#i have. a plan. and then i can pay for another e-consultation to get the first 10 pages of the pitch checked
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Making Career Changes-A Blue Print
Being a recruiter and offering advice on career change may seem like an oxymoron pursuit. Last year was a difficult year for many and I hear people tell me that they are tired of what they are doing and wish they had a Plan B as we used to call it when I was in the military. I feel their pain but unfortunately my job description does not include career change.
Having thought about this for some time and asking advice from people who have successfully made their career transition a reality, I offer a few suggestions for those whom I cannot help professionally but may be able to help with this article.
When Amazon founder Jeff Bezos was deciding when to quit his well-paying hedge fund job, he went to his boss and told him that he was thinking of selling books online. He had already been talking to him about the power of the internet, but for the first time, he was seriously considering quitting to become an entrepreneur. Bezos asked himself what he would regret more when he was 80 years old: Trying to build something he had strong conviction in and failing, or failing to give it a try? He realized that not trying would haunt him every day.
Whether or not you are pursuing a passion or side hustle, confused about quitting your job for a new one, or just looking for a change, know that it’s not a straightforward decision. It requires careful planning and thinking.
Transitions aren’t just about doing something different. A career transition is a lifestyle redesign that often entails rethinking how you want to feel at the end of the day, how you want to spend your time, and how this relates to your longer term goals. When you feel this need for change, it isn’t necessarily related to a fancier title or more money, but your inner voice whispering that you could do more, be more, experience and achieve more.
Start by asking why you want to quit your current job.
Is it the culture of the organization, is it the people you work with, or is there something else bogging you down? You might also discover that you love your job, but you want to build something new or experiment with a different sector. It is critical to be radically honest with yourself and think things through.
Keep the end in mind.
It is challenging to plan for the long-term, but it helps to have a mental image of the kind of life you want to build.
Work and life are not separate entities. Work is part of life. Try to visualize where you want to live, the kind of person you want to partner with (or if you even want a partner), and how you want to spend your time on a daily basis.
Assess yourself.
While some may know already they want to work in another industry or go back to school to learn something new, many don’t know what their next step should be. But it is impossible to know where you are going if you don’t know where you are. The simplest way to conduct this self-assessment is to ask yourself these questions:
What’s my end goal?
If I keep doing what I am doing today, will I get closer my ultimate goal?
Will my 80-year-old-self have more or less regrets because of my current choices?
Be realistic.
Some transitions are unlikely in the short-term. Don’t set yourself up for failure by setting unrealistic goals in unrealistic timeframes. We overestimate what we can do in one year and underestimate what we can do in 10. You can change your industry, your function, and your geographical location but all three are unlikely to change immediately. Gradual change is often much more sustainable.
Have a backup plan.
Create an alternative you can live with when things aren’t going as envisioned or planned. It might be somewhere in between your ultimate aspiration and your current state. This can bridge the skill and network gap you might be facing during career transitions.
Set a time frame
Suppose you want to transition from law to social impact consulting and making that switch is proving to be difficult, perhaps because of lack of relevant experience. Here your backup plan could be time-bound. You could give yourself one year to make the switch from law to social impact consulting by acquiring the right set of skills, building a tribe of mentors, and networking with industry professionals. If it still doesn’t work out, you can rethink your goal or look at accomplishing it in the longer term if it still interests you.
If you aren’t thinking about a career transition today, some day you will. As and when that day comes, my hope is that you approach it with curiosity, conviction, and commitment. Career transitions are messy, but they can also turn out to be catalysts in shaping a future self you will be proud of. There is no way of guaranteeing success, but not trying might just leave you wondering what if?
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Cannot sleeeeeep. Have to w h i i i i n e
Woke up to stabbies. Been getting these electrical stabs the last couple weeks. Figure its fibro. I dont see why it would be my new pill. But my body picks a spot and then it feels like im being STUNG. REPEATEDLY. Tonight its the opposite spot of my scar's location.
And i hear beeping. I think its bro's alarm. He does not wake up easily. If i tell him to turn it off, he will and go back to sleep.
And the nephew keeps turning on the hallway light.
And I'm obsessing over a niece issue.
Bong water has not been using a litterbox. They're upstairs, i think she just isn't going upstairs anymore.
Conversation with niece went like:
"I picked up 2 piles of poop from bong water last night."
"You can take her back to my apartment whenever you want"
"Are you going to be there?"
"Nope."
"If i bring a litterbox down, will you help me clean it?"
"I dont do the litterbox at MY house."
Bitch. You do not deserve a fucking cat. Or any pet. She killed her rats from neglect.
If i wasnt so against returning poor helpless furbabies to the shelter for insignificant reasons...........
But also we already have FOUR CATS. We were supposed to stop at Cinderbelle. But then Pantera, Pooka and Reno happened....
We cannot own another cat. It's already been a month. If the landlord notices... 😣 We've babysat other animals before but like i said its been a month. Niece doesnt seem to have plans for leaving either. I guess shes fine paying rent for an empty house and just sleeping on our couch forever. If we kick her out, she'll just couch surf. At least her boyfriend is in jail.....ffs
I barely have the executive function to clean MY cats litterboxes, and they're right outside my door. For just this purpose. I'm not gonna be able to do a downstairs one. I cannot tote the container of litter between flights. Just. No.
I dont think i can tell her friend (original owner of bw) to take her because she lives with a toxic af mother and i dont think the situation is safe.
SO, WHAT DO D:
Also the house is so bad. Made worse by now cat shit all over the place. But everyone is really struggling physically, and between the house and our own bodies, our mental health is fucked up too.
Moms stomach is fucked. She does not want to eat. She does. She resorts to junk food when she gets hungry but i cant complain because she wont let us feed her otherwise.
And sissy fucked up her back. I dont know what all shes doing for it but shes done muscle relaxants, back brace and tens unit occassionally. She refuses a heating pad for some reason.
Lately my symptoms are fibro shit, stomach pain, asthma, a strained/tired back, and tachycardia. The tachicardia is the worst because it kicks up when I get up. And eat. It settles down when i rest. Also the asthma. Just going up/down the stairs makes me do this dry throat clearing kind of cough for the next 10 minutes after the tiniest pinch of exertion. And I've woken up gasping a few nights.
Those two need to see some fuckin doctors. Mine can't do anything for me, but at least I jump through those fuckin hoops. I see everyone. All the specialists. I'm trying my best here. I have some major flaws that im sure frustrate the family, but this irritates me that they won't see people.
Mom especially. The only appointments she has are for literal surgical consults and she flaked on ONE situation already. Next one is for somethig else. No idea if she'll ever do anything about her previous issue she needs fixed 🙄😤
And also my sister is going blind and has high blood pressure but won't take her medicine. Her reasoning is because then she'll have to order more and go through setting it up and shit. Executive function issues i guess. Mom has been setting it up and giving it to her but i never remember and sometimes she forgets too.
Like do you know how many pills i take to have some semblance of function and not die? This is also frustrating to see.
I don't know what to do about any of this.
If we got rid of the cat, the niece would disown us. Which honestly, if she werent already riding a fine line of unsafe i wouldn't mind so much, she'd get over it eventually. Once she had the maturity to. 🙄 Because it's not like it would be out of spite. But sissy is on eggshells making sure we dont push her away. Probably into the arms of another halfway house resident. 😒
Uuuhhgggg
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#god it's 2am i was supposed to take a shower fuck#when i get hyper focused something it can be too hyper focused :///#i have. a plan. and then i can pay for another e-consultation to get the first 10 pages of the pitch checked#so yeah.#it's me against the fucking outline
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Wednesday 5 August 1835
9 10
12 35
no kiss very fine morning F68° at 9 breakfast at 10 ½ - kind note from Lady Stuart de R- begging me to go to her between 12 and 1 - lucky that Lady Stuart and Lady Vere were just arrived from Richmond park and would be delighted to see me - A- and I sat talking over the breakfast table - had post horses to the carriage and off at 1 - Lady Stuart de R- alone - ½ hours tête-a-tête - talk about V-‘s leaving Lady S- neither party seemed to have known the value of each to each other - all V-‘s doing - not an economical plan for her, and Lady S- did not know what to do for a companion V- talked too much of poverty when confined at the Lodge had it to herself but wanted Lady Stuart to pay her Vere board wages for the gardener Lady S- thought this not right for V- had the use of the garden and the gardener milked and V- had the milk shabby of Vere she said too that when Lady S- went over it made a great difference in her Vere’s weekly bills so that at last Lady S- took fowls and meat with her poor Vere thought I it’s like her but I merely said it was a great pity Lady Stuart de R- wished I was at liberty - should like to meet me in Italy - Charlotte and Mr Canning to be married the end of this month and going to Highcliffe - to have it to themselves - the Stuart the R-s would like going to Italy - if it could be managed to leave Miss Hyriott with old Lady S- thought it would do very well - yes! said if it can be managed - said I was afraid I could not leave my aunt or should be delighted to go to Italy - went in to luncheon - introduced to Mr Canning - a nice good-looking young man - apparently (according to countenance) more amiable than talented? Lady Sarah Saville came in - shook hands –
SH:7/ML/E/18/0075
asked where I was, and on hearing that I was in Dover street asked me to call - home at 2 ¼ - John dined in ¼ hour and at 2 ¼ out again - A- sat in the carriage 35 minutes while I paid my visit to Lady S- and V- at Whitehall - they had heard of me from Lady Stuart de R- (very glad to see me) Lady S- looking better than I expected but seemed very feeble - V- looking thin but well - saw both her children Anne-Louisa and little Donald 4 months old - very nice children - Lady Stuart de R- had made me promise to dine with her to meet Lady S- and V- had consulted me about the sale of Lord Hardwickes’ books - Lady H- would pick out what she wanted and sell the rest - I against it - said she would not get near their value - she has sold the house (3 St. James’s square) furnished taking nothing out but plate and china, magnificently furnished - for £20,000 to the Duke of Leeds - the executors Lords Eastnor and Caledon (Lady H- herself one of the executors) advised this tho’ the house worth £25000 - I said it was certainly sold very cheap - on the subject of the books mentioned Mr. George Stockley 13 Bolingbroke place Walworth road and Thorpe 38 Bedford street covent garden - so from Whitehall drove off in search of Stokley - not at home , but has a shop 44 Holywell street near Temple bar, and might be there - there we went - a little narrow street just wide enough for the carriage - a b.g. place - the man not there - gone to White chapel - a boy asked me to leave my name - declined this and drove off - home at 5 50 - dressed all but having my hair done - dinner at 6 ¼ took a little that A- might not have a désagrément of dining seule - finished dressing - at Lady Stuart de R-‘s at 7 35 - nobody in the room but Mr Canning and another gentleman - Lady Stuart de R- introduced as Lord Caledon gentlemanly pleasant person enough - 8 before we dined - Lady S- de R-, Lady Stuart, Lady V. Cameron and myself and Lord C- Mr. Canning and Lord S. de R- our party - Lord C- took out Lady S- Lord S. de R- Lady VC- Mr. C- Charlotte Stuart and Lady S- de R- and I walked out together and I sat on the left of Lord S- de R- with V- on my left - my Lord very agreeable - I mentioned my Swiss model and want of a treasury order to get the package passed unopened from here to H-x Lord S- bade me write him a note that he could act upon and said me he would get me an order - very good of him - very nice dinner - pleasant dinner and evening - the ladies going to a small party at Lady Gordon’s at 10 ½ - I staid to take one cup of tea, and got home at 10 20 having ordered the carriage at 9 ½ and it had waited - found A- with the tea-things still in the room - had fresh tea made, and sat up talking till 11 ¾ - very fine day -F71° at 12 35 tonight in my dressing room - my cousin came before my fist dinner but took no notice of him till on going to bed speaking of wines Lord S- de R- said the Spanish wine pronounced Seeges (i.e. exactly like sieges military operations) was most valuable - hardly to be got - must be sixty years old before it was drinkable - this was the wine Lady S- de R- was to have inquired after when we were in the South of France in 1830 - but she never made out the name (Lord S-‘s handwriting not the most legible) and we could not hear of the wine
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Junior Doctor Shenanigans - A Week In The Life:
Probably should have taken it as a bad omen when I discovered on Monday morning that I’d packed two scrub tops instead of a top and trousers. Thankfully I was able to borrow a spare pair from a colleague, albeit not before spending the entire morning waltzing around in jeans.
Spent an hour desperately fighting to control one of my patients’ rapid heart-rate (specifically fast atrial fibrillation, an arrhythmia that was likely a complication of his recent heart attack) only for him to pass away 15 minutes before I was supposed to start my evening shift. Understandably I couldn’t leave until the man’s family had arrived, so I called down to the unit where I was supposed to be working to tell them I’d be late.
Fifteen minutes later, the senior doctor from the day-shift came up to the ward; not to help, as I’d naively hoped, but to hand me her pager before escaping. The senior who was supposed to be on-call in the evening was off with Covid, leaving me to contend with the reality of having to tell a family that their lovely dad had just passed away while holding a page that I am far too junior to carry. Somehow I managed not to burst into tears, but it was a close call.
This also marks the first time I’ve ever had to break the news to a family member that their loved one has died. Definitely one of the worst parts of my job and not something I can imagine ever getting used to.
My consultant only came in on Monday before gleefully escaping off on her holiday, entrusting me with her nine patients as she went. Essentially leaving me to take on the role of a hospital consultant, complete with my own daily ward-rounds and MDT meetings to plan discharge dates. Given that I’m only three years into the job, these responsibilities are waaaaay above my pay-grade 😅
Patient relatives can either be the loveliest people you’ve ever met or complete nightmares in human form. There is no in-between. Case in point: one of our - admittedly very pleasant - patients had to spend a couple of days in hospital waiting for a scan to determine if she had a clot in her lungs, during which time she needed oxygen. Waiting for scans is pretty standard: emergencies in A+E take priority so scans don’t always happen immediately, and us doctors don’t have the power to rush them without good reason. This detail was entirely lost on the patient’s six daughters, all of whom demanded individual updates because they refused to talk to each other. Their main request was that we somehow strong-arm the Radiology department into prioritising their mum despite her being medically stable, and when we couldn’t guarantee a time-slot, they would threaten to take her home against medical advice.
One highlight from their interactions with us include the time one daughter furiously marched up to me to ask why her mum hadn’t been seen yet, despite the fact that the junior doctor responsible for her was clearly dealing with a much sicker patient at the time. One daughter also asked my colleague if they could take her mum home with “oxygen tablets”, while another seemed to think you could buy oxygen tanks over-the-counter. Another daughter somehow managed to get the email address of the consultant and complained to her directly, causing the consultant to blame aforementioned junior doctor (it wasn’t his fault) and force him to deal with the fallout on his own. Needless to say, when they eventually did take their mum home - thankfully after waiting for the scan to show she didn’t have a PE - we all breathed a sigh of relief.
My friend and I have kept ourselves entertained all week by concocting a detailed plan to pack in our jobs and escape to build a cabin in the woods away from civilisation. As the week’s gone on, the idea has only seemed more appealing, to the point where we’ve been looking up derelict woodland properties on Rightmove 😅
Our wards are literally riddled with covid and every week brings new staff absences, yet somehow my friend and I have managed to avoid it so far. We’re convinced the bastard virus is just biding its time for when we have annual leave in two weeks…
Out of the many microbiology samples I’ve requested this week in patients with suspected infections, literally none have been sent to the lab. This isn’t any one person’s fault - it’s mostly a side-effect of our nurses being stretched thin due to chronic understaffing - but it is frustrating to watch a patient’s infection markers get worse and worse with no clear indication of what antibiotics to give.
August is creeping ever-closer, meaning I’ve started applying for jobs. One of the requirements on my ridiculously complicated application form is a list of consultants who have known me for three years and are willing to provide a reference. This is problematic as 1) I haven’t been working for three years and 2) junior doctors generally move departments every four months and don’t actually spend that long with any one consultant. One of the consultants I’ve asked literally met me for the first time last week 😂
#it's been a while since I've done one of these but this has been *a week*#I should point out that it's actually been quite a fun week but that's mostly because I've been working with my friend#who just happens to have the same morbid sense of humour as I do - much to the dismay of our poor innocent FY1#junior doctor shenanigans#medicine#tw: death
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Buddie Moodboard - Runaway Jury AU
Here’s to another strange AU. Disclaimer: I don’t know shit about law aside from how to break it. Anyway. Here we are. Again. :)
Lawyer and jury consultant Chase Mackey may be in for the greatest job of his career. A group of people who either were victims of the tsunami or lost people in the natural disaster a year ago want to sue the City of Los Angeles for negligence.
The claim: Investments in structural and nonstructural measures to mitigate the effects of a natural disaster like a tsunami were not carried out, despite experts repeatedly pointing out the risks. Due to budget cuts. As a result, the planned raising of dikes and improvements to floodgates were not pursued. Due to budget cuts. Thus, the city is liable for negligence that resulted in even more unnecessary deaths, injuries, and property damages.
The other party holds the claim that the tsunami can be identified as an Act of God by the law and that the measurements in place were sufficient, given the information they had before the tsunami happened. Thus, although tragic, the City of Los Angeles does not owe additional fees or reparations to victims of the tsunami.
Chase Mackey doesn’t care which side is right or wrong. He just knows which one pays more to have a certain verdict come out of the lawsuit. And so, he makes arrangements for a jury more likely to vote in favor of the city than the group of victims taking the case to court.
At first, all goes according to plan. They pick just the right candidates. It’s like pulling the strings in the back of a puppet show. Every time. And this time, surely, will be no different.
That is until a young man named Evan Buckley starts complaining about jury duty and is elected by the judge personally as one of the jurors. Chase wants to think that this is no great setback. The man is young, inexperienced, and doesn't seem to care about the situation much. In fact, the fallout the young firefighter had with his captain prior may actually play into his hands.
While Chase Mackey does not believe in coincidences, he knows better than to waste easy opportunities if they arise.
After the jury is elected, Chase receives a phone call from an unknown source introducing themselves as Greggs, making him a surprising offer or maybe even threat: Ten million dollars in exchange for the outcome of the court case. The same offer is being made to the opposite party, he is told.
First come, first serve.
At first Chase believes this to be a joke, but whoever it is on the other end of the line is serious. He has to learn that lesson fast as it is proven the very next day when one of Chase’s selected jurors is thrown out, found ill-fit for jury duty.
Apparently, the young man who said he didn’t want to be part of the jury is the inside man Greggs mentioned on the phone.
Evan Buckley is a charismatic, young firefighter who easily wins over most of the jurors sitting at one table with him. It is the kind of antagonist Chase was not prepared to be facing. Not that this gives him any kind of worry. He played this game much longer than this youngster has. And he’ll gladly show the kids the ropes.
On the other side of the court, Evan “Buck” Buckley is set on getting justice for the victims of the tsunami. Many people suffered that day, people he loves, and he won’t stand by while the city tries to shift blame from themselves over to the first responders who have risked their lives to save people.
Apparently, a few semesters of law and psychology in community college alongside some internet research can get you quite far in this strange endeavor.
Buck is supported by his partner Eddie, who is handling the conversations between the lawyers as “Greggs”. Eddie never imagined finding himself in a situation like this, but despite his fear for Buck’s wellbeing, he agrees that something needs to be done. Something has to change, or else the wrong people will get away with a clap on the back of the hand.
They always have each other’s back, after all.
Chase Mackey is not easily impressed by any of their spiel, though. He assigns his team to dig up dirt on Evan Buckley, all the more surprised when all they can give him is what they already know: That he is a firefighter for the LAFD currently off-duty due to a health condition. And that he had some fallout with his currently suspended captain, Robert Nash.
But that’s it.
Which can’t really be the case because no one can hide from Chase’s team. They should have that man’s personal history down to his social security number by now. None of this makes sense. It’s as though the guy became a ghost in his own life ever since his accident that got him off-duty.
To gather more information, Chase sends out some henchmen to dig through the man’s apartment. Buck interrupts them just as they are about to steal the data he hid there. The fight results in fire being set to his apartment. Thankfully, Buck can save the data from being stolen and makes it out just in time, only to watch his apartment go up in flames.
Pointing out to Eddie later on that moving in together may come earlier than both imagined is perhaps not the best joke he ever made, judging by his partner’s reaction later on.
A furious Eddie wants Buck to quit right here and now, though he knows there is no way that Buck is going to give up, no matter what he says. They started this, so they have to see this through. Eddie urges Buck to be careful, which is just as pointless, he knows.
It’s Buck we are talking about, after all.
The next day, Buck presents video footage of his apartment being searched to the judge, prompting the judge to order the jury sequestered. Simultaneously, Eddie ups the game to fifteen million dollars for the verdict, letting Chase know in as many words that they are not to be messed with.
Not that this will stop Chase Mackey, quite on the contrary. He will do whatever it takes to get the verdict. That’s what he’s paid to do, after all. If that means blackmailing some people to the point that they consider suicide? Then so be it. That’s their decision, after all.
It’s a free country.
Nonetheless, Chase finds himself more and more cornered as Buck continues to influence the jury. If he were to pay, he could be certain of the verdict. But is it a gamble worth taking or is it, in the end, only just a trap?
After all, Chase knows this one thing for certain: Everyone can be bought.
Right?
Find more moodboards here.
#buddie#buck x eddie#eddie x buck#evan buckley#eddie diaz#evan buck buckley#evan buckley x eddie diaz#eddie diaz x evan buckley#buddie moodboard#moodboard#aesthetic#buddie au#ficlet#in smol
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Whumpmas In July: "I Can't"
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: E
Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka; Mizuki/Umino Iruka
WC: ~4990
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Notes: Deception, Drugging, Prison Break, Dissociation, Rough Oral Sex, Conditioning, Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Character Death, Triggers, Hair-pulling, Violence, Kidnapping
A/N: This story follows a Non-Linear Narrative, for the most part.
A sequel to “Secret”
For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list
Read on The Archive
~
The day Umino Iruka walked into the clinic seeking therapy was the day Rikona changed her plans to fit her new narrative. Sure, she’d been next and available to take patients, standing right at the check-in desk as he filled out his paperwork; and normally, there was a day or two in-between registration and the first session, just so the team of psychiatrists and therapists could best review the potential case and match the best team with the patient. But none of that mattered. She was going to take Umino Iruka, and as soon as he finished filing his intake forms, she took the thin folder right out of Aiko’s hands.
“Right this way, Umino-sensei.”
“I prefer to be addressed with my given name,” he said on the walk to her office.
“Of course, Iruka-sensei. I’m Rikona.”
It’s so simple to establish a baseline with Umino. He wants to tell someone about his story, he wants to get better, but he doesn’t have the words for it and he doesn't know how to get there. She gently prompts him along, learning his past and keeping him from dissociating—she finds out in the first session that good is not a word Iruka can hear in certain contexts. She discovers trauma hidden in every corner of his life, coloring every interaction he’s had since he was eleven. She hears about Naruto and how Iruka’s as good as adopted him, even if the village won’t let it be official; and about Kakashi, the partner who suggested Iruka seek out counseling, yet forgoes his own mental health.
Really, it’s not hard to understand him.
So they have a couple of sessions and it’s working well. She’s getting to know him, while at the same time getting him to trust her and tell her more about his story.
But after only a few sessions, he is captured and tortured and she has to make a hospital visit when he's inevitably brought home—by none other than Hatake Kakashi. And of course, Hatake doesn’t leave his side throughout the hospital stay except for required psychiatric consults. Umino comes out the other side of his captivity with minor injuries and almost no backslide on his mental health progress.
Rikona gives herself much of the credit for that. To Hatake, she initially gives a modicum of a nod; he’s certainly present.
~
Iruka trips for the third time in almost as many minutes, and puts a palm to his temple. “Rikona-sensei, is there somewhere I can sit down for a moment?”
She looks back at him, brows raised. “Another dizzy spell?”
He nods.
Rikona leads him to a bench and lets him sit, guiding his head to rest in his palms, his elbows braced on his thighs. She had said that they were going to go straight to the Hokage Tower, but the hospital never felt this far away before. It feels like he’s been walking for over an hour.
“How much longer to the Tower?” he asks.
“Not too much,” she says. “Ten minutes.”
That. That doesn't sound right. The hospital is only a fifteen minute walk from the Tower. Why have they been walking for so long?
He lifts his head and looks around, but the wooded park they’re in looks like any other in Konoha. “Rikona-sensei, why are we in a park?”
“You asked for a little time to make sure the medication I gave you is in full effect before speaking to Tsunade-sama,” Rikona answers quickly. “Do you not remember?”
The world is still spinning. He carefully shakes his head before putting his head back down. “Are these dizzy spells also a side-effect?”
“Unfortunately, yes. You may have to just power through them.”
Iruka groans. “Okay, let’s keep going, then.”
Rikona offers her hand to help him stand, and her elbow to keep him steady as they walk.
The trees go by.
The sounds of the village fade away.
~
And then they find out that the Sato event traumatized Hatake. And honestly? She kept her cool in the meeting, but that night when she’s home, she has herself a good laugh. The man went and got himself traumatized over someone who he’s been manipulating for months, if not years? She’s not heard of a successful Reverse Stockholm syndrome; it’s hilarious.
But she also harbors a deep-set anger because it was under Hatake’s watch that Umino went and took that mission—he’s not an active field agent, shouldn’t be in the field, it should have never happened. It was under Hatake’s watch that the Sato incident occurred.
And then Umino talks about moving. And Rikona knows. This is the time. He’s asking for her advice, blushing as he talks about someday asking Hatake to move in together. But Hatake’s influence has been nothing positive and she knows exactly who Umino should be seeing instead.
She knows because she’s been covering for his usual therapist for over seven months and she’s a professional. She knows how to recognize abusers, manipulators. She can form an emotional connection with a carrot if it needs therapy—she’s good.
So when Mizuki tells her about his old boyfriend, this wonderful man he misses so dearly, who has never once visited him in prison; Rikona resolves to be the one to help this man, her patient, receive closure at the least—or reunite long lost lovers at best.
She knows she’s making the right decision. She knows Mizuki is good for Iruka. She knows because when she told him about what happened to Umino, she could hear his heart break.
“That’s why I never let Iruka take missions without me, see? Because I knew things like this could happen, and I care about him—Rikona, I care so very much—I could never have forgiven myself if something like this had happened to him while we were together.”
And no one can fake that tone, those heart-wrenching sobs, the tears, oh gods the tears.
Together they make a plan. And she’s so happy to help him, so happy that she’s essential to his reunion with Umino. Mizuki says it himself; without her, the plan could never be implemented. She even lets him write the first letter, so Umino can hear his words straight from his own hand.
And on her way out of the prison that day, she grabs a few forms, and some extra envelopes, and if one happens to be a request for a conjugal visit, well… Mizuki’s been alone for so long. The least Umino can do is reconsider.
...
(She didn’t know what that first letter said until Iruka-sensei brought it to her office, feeling like he could dissociate at any moment and experiencing a moderate anxiety attack. When she read it, she felt a sting of doubt, like maybe Mizuki wasn’t how she’d diagnosed him. But then she remembers Hatake, and how Mizuki says he changes things to fit his stories; and she realizes that this note must have been tampered with before it reached Iruka-sensei.)
~
The prison break for one goes like this.
It starts seven months prior, with the head psychiatrist for the hospital getting swamped with paperwork and a sudden flood of new patients, and it’s only her, Rikona, and one other therapist working the clinic lately. Tomi-sensei asks—practically begs—Rikona to take her prison shift on Fridays, that they’ll shut down the clinic except for emergencies. It’s only until further notice, only until Tomi-sensei can hire another psychiatrist, or at least another therapist.
When Rikona gets to the prison, the guard is wary at first—she'd already been there that week—but after a quick explanation he waves her through. She's been treating inmates in the East Wing for months prior, so she knows her way through security. But Tomi-sensei treats inmates in the West Wing. Three inmates, specifically.
The first she sees for an hour and a half. The first half hour is talk therapy, the last hour she oversees his electroconvulsive therapy. The second receives a cocktail of anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, a tranquilizer, and extra medicine to help with the side-effects of all these. Then, Rikona sits with them and talks for an hour. After that, she breaks for lunch. Finally, the third inmate of the West Wing; who receives one large dose of a mood stabilizer, and two hours of therapy.
Two hours a week, for seven months. Sometimes she stays later if the story he’s telling is particularly riveting, and she thinks that his telling of the story will help him.
But at the end of the day, she signs off on all three patients, carefully writing Tomi-sensei’s name in place of her own. Tomi trusts her judgement, and her conscience is clear. All three patients are steadily improving, some at slower paces, but improvement nonetheless. Rikona bills the hours in her own name, though; Tomi can take the credit for their health, but she needs to pay her mortgage.
So it’s easy to check out one of the East Wing prisoners for electroconvulsive therapy that Monday when she heads in. And she’s been working in the prison for years, so security knows her, and the East Wing prisoners are minimum security risks anyway—Rikona, thin and small as she is, picks an old woman to lead to therapy. And if the room for electroconvulsive therapy is in the West Wing, well security knows that Rikona knows her way around there, too.
The old woman is feeble, slow, gentle. The prison system broke her years ago. The poor thing doesn’t need to be shocked into submission. That’s not why Rikona brought her along.
There’s a seal she knows—the only advanced bit of chakra use she ever learned, before she determined that the shinobi way wasn’t her way—which can render a person invisible for a short time. She knows that the loss of his ability to mold chakra is very hard on Mizuki, and so when she leads the old woman into his cell and gives him the premade seal, she returns the grin he gives her.
“It’s time,” she says.
“You have him?”
“He’s all yours, Mizuki. You just have to promise to be careful. Whatever’s been done, he’s—”
“Rikona-sensei, I could never hurt him.” She presses the tag to his chest and he disappears.
She closes the door to the cell, leaving the woman in there alone, and walks away.
Confidently, she strides through the halls of the prison. She waves to the security personnel she knows. And then she gets back to the woman’s cell, and pushes another tag onto it—one to keep the door locked for good. They won’t be realizing that she’s gone for hours, if not days. They only use the flap at the bottom of the door to push her meals inside, and the tag leaves that part alone, she makes sure of it.
She toes it, just a little, just to be sure. It sways.
Rikona walks out the front doors, Mizuki a silent, invisible presence behind her.
~
Does she feel bad for lying to her client?
Gods, yes.
But it’s for his own good.
Hatake is a terrible, manipulative elitist. He doesn’t deserve someone like Iruka-sensei.
They’re five minutes from her home, a wooden cabin she maintains deep in the forests outside of the village. It’s there that the medication takes full effect and Iruka-sensei collapses. She’s so much smaller than him, and he’s heavier than he looks, but she pulls him onto her back and drags his feet along the ground and up the stone steps and into the house.
She’s careful, laying him down on the rug in front of the fireplace. It’s warm, so she doesn’t feel the need to start a fire. He’ll stay unconscious for a few hours, just until after sunset. She puts a blanket within reach, just in case he wakes up before they get back.
And then she leaves to collect Mizuki.
~
Kakashi doesn’t know how to explain it.
But something’s wrong.
There’s an odd scent in the air.
He had been heading to Iruka’s house, but he sighs and turns around to head back to the Tower. He’s still not going to take that mission, but he needs to talk to Tsunade.
~
Rikona watches as Mizuki strokes Iruka’s face tenderly. She’s making dinner in the kitchen and they’re laying side-by-side on the rug in front of the fireplace, now lit and warming the cabin. Her heart swells to see them together again after all this time, and she hopes that Hatake hasn’t poisoned Iruka-sensei’s memories so much that he can’t remember the good times he had with Mizuki.
They look good together.
Iruka-sensei hasn’t woken up yet, but she checked his vitals when they came back and he’s coming back to himself. They had pulled his vest and weapons off of him and set them on the couch once they got back, so he could lay more comfortably. He should wake any minute.
~
“A bad feeling?”
“A bad scent.”
“Like an intruder?”
“I don’t know. Very likely.”
Tsunade steeples her fingers. “Track it. Do not engage. Report back.”
Kakashi nods and turns to leave.
“It could be Akatsuki,” she warns. “Be careful.”
Kakashi is gone as soon as she finishes her sentence.
~
This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be a part of this. This isn’t love.
Rikona can’t believe she was so thoroughly duped.
~
The pack at large doesn’t know the scent he’s trying to convey to them. All he can say to describe it is wrong and bad and that can describe any fucker who hits their partner or child, or any stall vendor who deliberately raises their prices for a certain kind of person, or—
“The ripe, rancid one?” Pakkun asks, growling.
And those are the words he’s been searching for, yes. The rest of the pack catches that same scent and readies themselves.
“That’s the one. What is it?”
“That’s the prisoner Iruka-Boss fought a while back, when the prison had that major breakout.”
Kakashi’s stomach flips and his spine chills.
Mizuki.
~
“You’re awake.”
Mizuki puts his hand over Iruka’s mouth to keep him from crying out, leans over and whispers in his ear, “You could never get away from me, don’t start trying now.” The tears glistening in the corners of his eyes shimmer in the firelight and he looks beautiful when he cries. Mizuki dips his head and kisses Iruka’s neck, relishing the whimper he receives.
He removes his hand, knowing he has Iruka’s obedience.
“You’re not real,” he mutters. “This isn’t real. It’s-It’s a side-effect. Of the m-medication.”
���Oh, baby, this isn’t a dream,” Mizuki lifts himself to hover over Iruka, pressing the length of his body along the tan one on the floor. “I’m here. I’m here to stay.” He shoves his knees in-between Iruka’s thighs and rolls his hips. “Hmm, missed this. Missed you. Did you miss me, too, baby?”
“Get off,” Iruka hisses.
Mizuki grins and presses his teeth to Iruka’s neck. “Don’t mind if I do.”
~
Kakashi sends half of the pack to find Iruka, and the rest follow Mizuki’s scent.
He goes to the prison; he needs to check himself. He needs Pakkun to be wrong.
The security personnel confirm that prisoner 834-769 is in his cell. Been there all morning. There’s no log of him being taken out. Kakashi doesn’t growl, but asks if someone can go down to the cell and give him visual confirmation.
“Chakra confirmation is sufficient when there’s no cause for alarm,” he’s told.
Chakra confirmation???
“The fucker has no ability to mold chakra! And there is cause for alarm,” he grits through his teeth. “My pack caught his scent outside. I need visual confirmation of his presence in his cell now.”
Security at least pretends to take him seriously. They send a team down to the West Wing and Kakashi considers following them.
And then a bone-chilling howl echoes outside, and Kakashi doesn’t care about visual confirmation. Because the howl is the one that says scent lost and it’s coming from Bull’s half of the pack, the half that’s supposed to find Iruka—
And if they lost his scent—
Kakashi bolts.
~
Rikona leaves them to reacquaint in the living room. She steps outside. The stew will be alright on its low heat, and the rice still has plenty of time left to steam.
The stars are nice. The moon is waning from full, and she pulls a throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. In the distance, she can hear wolves howling and smiles softly.
It’s such a nice night.
~
He can’t explain it. He doesn’t stop to try, to tell an ANBU patrol what he’s doing, or to find Gai or anyone else.
The look on the security guard’s face was enough. No one will believe him if he tells them that Mizuki has something to do with Iruka’s disappearance. Hell, no one will likely believe him if he tells them that Iruka’s missing. After the Sato incident—and his reaction afterwards; he can admit that he was being a little overprotective—no one will take him seriously.
Kakashi has to do this by instinct. He has the pack flanking him, leading him along the ripe, rancid scent. They understand without him explaining, thank the gods.
Iruka is pack. This knowledge is as an intrinsic part of him as his family name, as chidori, as his loyalty to Konoha. More than this, the deeper part of him recognizes Iruka as his and recognizes the reciprocal possession Iruka holds on his very being.
Whether he knows it or not, Iruka owns him.
Boss’s Boss, indeed.
~
Mizuki hears the door shut behind Rikona as she leaves. He puts his mouth over Iruka’s, and when his lips won’t part he pulls on Iruka’s hair knowing that it will force a gasp as well as remind Iruka whose he is. He pushes his tongue into Iruka’s mouth when it opens and rolls his hips faster. With his other hand—the one not busy with the hair—he reaches to his crotch and pulls down the front of his prison pants and frees his dick. He fights with Iruka’s pants, and then lowers those too and eventually grabs both of them together in his fist.
Iruka’s limp. That’s fine. He’s used to working with that.
Iruka winces into their kiss, muttering, “Stop.”
“None of that. You know better.”
Iruka turns away. “I said, stop.”
Mizuki lets go of his own dick and pinches Iruka’s, watching him wince and hold back tears and bite his bottom lip.
“You know I don’t like that word. You don’t get to tell me to stop.” He grabs them both and strokes. “There, isn’t that better?”
“No, please—I can’t—I don’t want—”
Mizuki pulls his hair harder, twists his fist in the strands, and Iruka relaxes and his eyes turn glassy and there he goes. Mizuki grins, bites at Iruka’s mouth, and says, “Beg me to touch you.”
The response comes like the last two and a half years never happened. “Touch me,” Iruka murmurs.
“Tell me you missed me.”
“Missed you, ‘Zuki.”
“Aww, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel good.”
~
Kakashi runs through the forest behind the hospital and another sinking feeling hits his belly.
Rikona-sensei was supposed to be in charge of Iruka’s care.
But if Iruka’s missing.
Where’s Rikona-sensei?
“Pakkun.”
“Boss.”
“You know Iruka’s therapist?”
“Yeah. She went this way, too.”
Mizuki took them both. Fuck.
~
“Want to suck my cock, baby?”
Iruka comes back, just for a moment, just long enough to get the n sound of his answer. Mizuki tugs his hair again—training Iruka to become his personal little slut at the pull of his hair was the most brilliant idea Mizuki had ever had; he pats his own back every day he remembers the time he spent on it. And, damn it took time. Iruka never liked having his hair pulled, so the pain and the sex and his never-ending desire to please Mizuki combined together to make a perfect storm. And it still took months, almost a year, of hair-pulling and ordering Iruka around to condition him into the perfect whore.
And now, thanks to Rikona, he’s got that back.
He pulls himself up to the couch and sits, slides his pants to his thighs, and guides Iruka into position over his cock. There’s still tears on his lashes, and that’s just fucking perfect.
Mizuki’s been using his hand for over a year, and Tsubaki’s cunt before that.
Nothing compares to Iruka’s throat.
“Oh, good boy,” he groans as Iruka slides down over him. It’s tight, hot, wet—perfect—he put so much work into training this slut to take him and blow him right and two years isn’t enough time for Iruka to forget it seems, because he gets to slurping and tonguing and bobbing his head like he never left Mizuki’s legs.
~
Rikona stops in the doorway, blinking.
Iruka-sensei has dissociated. Mizuki seems to be aware of this, yet isn’t trying to get him to come back. In fact, he’s using Iruka-sensei’s mouth as-as—
She turns and goes back outside, closing the door quietly behind her.
She looks up at the night sky and suddenly the stars don’t feel so relaxing.
~
“My sweet, good boy, sucking me soo good. Look at you. Right where you belong.”
He remembers what he’s heard about Hatake from Rikona. What a joke. “As if blowing someone else could ever change who owns you.”
Iruka whimpers. Gods that sound fucking drives him crazy.
“Who owns you, baby?”
Iruka pulls off of him, just enough. “You, Mizuki.”
“Fuck, missed this.” He pushes Iruka back down, hits the back of his throat and keeps going. He takes Iruka’s hair in both hands and moves his head for him; Iruka isn’t going fast enough to get him off. This way, though, “You’re mine, baby. So good. Mine, mine, mine—FUCK!”
He shoots down Iruka’s throat.
The first time they did this, Iruka had spat it out. Mizuki made sure he never did that again. He knows that Iruka throws up later, once he comes back to himself; but whatever. Right now, he’s swallowing down Mizuki’s come, his throat working his pulsing cock and it feels great. He pulls back near the end of his orgasm, and lets the last pulses of come splash on Iruka’s lips and chin, watching it drip down his neck.
The tears are falling freely, but Iruka will stay on his knees until Mizuki tells him to get up. Fucking beautiful.
~
Why would Mizuki take both of them?
It doesn’t make sense.
Iruka, obviously. Mizuki’s had it out for Iruka since they were twelve, if not younger.
But why Rikona-sensei? If nothing else, he should have killed her. They should have found a body.
They still haven’t picked up on Iruka’s scent. There’s a third scent, but it’s muddled and weird and Kakashi can’t place it.
“Boss.”
“Akino.”
“Smoke, up ahead.”
“That’s where they are.”
He knows it in his bones. In his soul. He’d bet his life on it.
… He’s also betting Iruka’s life on it. The pack is already at top speed, but for this last sprint they all push just a little more.
~
Rikona walks off the porch and down the path. She’s reviewing the last four months of therapy sessions with Iruka-sensei in her head, and the last seven months with Mizuki, wondering where she went wrong. She hugs her arms tight to her body and watches her feet.
Hatake-san is an elitist. A genius, gifted child who advanced through the ranks too quickly and thinks too highly of himself. He’s Friend-Killer Kakashi, known for leaving a teammate for dead, for putting his own fist through the girl who loved him for the sake of a mission. He’s manipulative, and known for reading porn in public, and tampers with his partner’s mail, and-and-and—
She’s reaching.
She knows she’s reaching.
Oh gods, what has she done.
~
Kakashi watches Rikona stop on the path and begin to shake. He slides out of the tree silently beside her, and says, “Yo, Rikona-sensei.”
She gasps, startled. “Hatake—”
“Where’s Iruka?”
She points to the cabin behind her. “Please, I didn’t know. He lied to me.”
“Hmm?”
“He told me you were bad for him. He told me that he missed Iruka-sensei. He cried when I told him about Sato.” Rikona bites her lip. “How did he fake that? Did he fake that?”
“I’ll deal with you later.”
“I’ll turn myself in.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Kakashi says. He glares at her, exposing the sharingan for full threat. “If he’s hurt, you get hurt.”
~
“We should go to Water Country,” Mizuki sighs, slipping his dick back into Iruka’s mouth. “They’ve got good clubs out there. I could make a lot of coin selling the use of your throat.”
Iruka’s so far gone, so far down, he doesn’t even react.
“And with the ocean and all, your vomiting won’t be so off-putting each night.”
The door breaks open and a pack of mutts crash through the windows around him. Mizuki pulls out of Iruka’s mouth, reaches in Iruka’s weapon pouch beside him for a kunai. He may not have the ability to mold chakra anymore, but that doesn’t change how well a blade can slice through the delicate life beating in a person’s neck. Mizuki pulls Iruka to his lap and has him cover his body, pressing the kunai under his jaw.
“I wouldn’t,” he warns. Hatake stalks into view, coming around the couch. “I promise, I’ll kill him faster than you or your mutts can get to me.”
One hand on the kunai, the other around Iruka’s waist. He doesn’t even need to keep a hand in his hair now. Iruka’s his.
He put in the time.
He put in the effort.
He built Iruka.
He sneers at Hatake. “You and your mutts can leave.”
“Not without him.”
“Iruka? Tell Hatake to leave.”
“Please leave, Hatake-san.”
Oh, that was good. Like he was slapped, Hatake flinches; just barely, but Mizuki catches it. That was nice. Worth a reward.
“Good boy, baby,” Mizuki purrs. He bites Iruka’s shoulder, relishing the soft whimper.
~
He’s under. He’s so far under and Kakashi has to be careful or he won’t get Iruka back.
This wasn’t a warning Rikona gave him; that came from Tomi-sensei a few weeks back, when she heard about one of the dissociation episodes he’d experienced during the Sato incident. He can’t trust anything Rikona has ever told him now, but Tomi-sensei never had a hand in Iruka’s care and so is objective.
He motions for the pack to stand down.
“Actually, I changed my mind,” Mizuki says. “Don’t leave. Just stay still.”
He takes the kunai away from Iruka’s neck and aims it at Kakashi.
He won’t hit him; Kakashi’s faster than anything he can throw. This is perfect. This is his chance.
He just has to be careful.
Iruka could still not come back if he’s not careful.
~
The bite of a blade against his neck is odd, but familiar. The slosh of come in his stomach is uncomfortable, but familiar. The taste of musk and come on his tongue is gross, but familiar.
Mizuki’s rumble against his back is nice and familiar.
Slipping into following Mizuki’s orders is simple. It’s easy.
The pain of his hair being pulled. The claustrophobic sensation of being boxed in as Mizuki hovers over him. Their bodies pressed together. His dick—pain—being stroked alongside Mizuki’s own length. It’s all familiar.
Falling is easy.
He can’t. He can’t handle being there anymore.
And then—
“Don’t move. Just stay still.”
The blade leaves his neck, and Iruka tracks it as Mizuki levels it at—
At—
Kakashi—
“Just sleep, dearest.”
“Please, Iruka, I wanna touch you please.”
“I like asking.”
“Please kiss me.”
“Hello, Love.”
“What do you need?”
“I will always come for you.”
“I will be wherever you want me to be.”
“Hello, Love.”
“Can I use the g-word tonight?”
“Hello, Love.”
“Hello, Love.”
“Hello, Love.”
And Iruka wakes up.
He reaches for the kunai out in front of him, disarms Mizuki and stands up out of his lap. He fights the vertigo, fights the chills chasing each other down his back and his arms.
He remembers the day he came home to Mizuki and Naruto, and how he put two kunai in him before kicking him out. He remembers the rage, seeing Naruto pull away from Mizuki like hot coals, remembers sending Naruto to hide in his own room because they had been in Naruto’s room; there was still a small blood stain on the floor of that apartment when he left, one he couldn’t clean up in time.
Mizuki can fuck with him all he’d like.
But he can’t fuck with Iruka’s family.
And maybe Mizuki couldn’t hit Kakashi with a kunai if he were point-blank. Maybe a thousand kunai couldn’t hit Kakashi if Mizuki were the one throwing them. It doesn’t matter.
Iruka’s been teaching Anatomy of a Kill and running disarming practicals for years. They can call him soft, and say his humanity is a weakness or a strength. He preaches the Will of Fire and he burns with it; he will protect that which is precious to him.
Naruto.
His own sanity.
Kakashi.
Whether or not it needs protecting, Iruka will be the shield.
He plunges the kunai into Mizuki’s chest, drags it through heart and liver, snapping ribs and muscle tissue as he goes, and settles the blade in Mizuki’s intestines. He stands over Mizuki as the life leaves his chest, gushing red and bloodying Iruka’s hands and clothes.
Mizuki’s eyes are dark with betrayal.
He whispers, “I will always own you.”
And then… and then he’s gone.
And Iruka breathes.
Gods.
I’m… I’m free.
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[Roles .]
(Y/N) stared at William with undying devotion and love within her (e/c) gems. A wistful sigh escapes her mouth as William talked about the plan for their next target. Fred and Sebastian who sat beside her looked like they were gonna throw-up from her love sicken stare. The men in room could all clearly see hearts floating around her head.
"(Y/N)."
Once her name was called by William. She gets out of her loving daze. "Yes William?" The woman squeaked, Sebastian quietly laughs at her while she sent him a heated glare. Which thankfully shut him up. "I was wondering if you can stay a bit longer, I would like to go over the details with you again."
(Y/N) nods quickly, William sighs and dismisses everyone. Fred and Sebastian give her uneasy glances, while Albert and Louis only stare ahead to the door. The female could only have her head up high as she waited for his words. Patiently waiting for the man she gave her life for to utter a word. Whatever it will be, she will make his dream come true, even at the cost of getting her hands dirty.
"(Y/N).."
"Yes William?" She said.
The blonde could only hold back a sigh at her dedication.
"I wish for you to pay more attention to the meetings. Your focus is not on the plans I have crafted. Why is that?" (Y/N) gave him a small smile. Her face warming up but her voice strong.
"It should be obvious, William."
The crime consultant gave her the coldest look she ever saw on his face. Yet she didn't let the fear take hold of her as she spoke on. All while William turns away from her.
"You know I want you.."
(Y/N) said, taking a small step in his direction.
"It's not a secret I try to hide
I know you want me
So don't keep sayin' our hands are tied
You claim it's not in the cards
And fate is pullin' you miles away
And out of reach from me
But you're here in my heart
So who can stop me if I decide
That you're my destiny?"
A hopeful smile slowly crawls on her face.
"What if we rewrite the stars?
Say you were made to be mine
Nothing could keep us apart
You'd be the one I was meant to find
It's up to you, and it's up to me
No one can say what we get to be
So why don't we rewrite the stars?
Maybe the world could be ours
Tonight!"
William sighs and faces her, his arms crossed as he walks over to her.
"You think it's easy.." The male said, his tone bitter.
"You think I don't wanna run to you
But there are mountains
And there are doors that we can't walk through
I know you're wondering why because we're able to be
Just you and me within these walls"
William does a small twirl and spreads out his arms. Gesturing to the room and the walls keeping them alone. He stops and glides over to the covered window, pulling it slightly before letting go like he pricked his finger.
"But when we go outside, you're gonna wake up and see
That it was hopeless after all
No one can rewrite the stars
How can you say you'll be mine?
Everything keeps us apart
And I'm not the one you were meant to find
It's not up to you
It's not up to me
When everyone tells us what we can be
How can we rewrite the stars?
Say that the world can be ours
Tonight.."
Taking the nobles hand into her own, she pulls him into a waltz. The two spiraling into a frenzied rhythm as they stare at one another.
"All I want is to fly with you
All I want is to fall with you
So just give me all of you"
"It feels impossible!"
"It's not impossible!"
"Is it impossible?"
"Say that it's possible!"
"How do we rewrite the stars?
Say you were made to be mine?
Nothing can keep us apart
'Cause you are the one I was meant to find
It's up to you
And it's up to me
No one can say what we get to be
And why don't we rewrite the stars?
Changing the world to be ours!"
The woman twirls him again. Making his back hit against her chest. The two stop dancing, only holding on to each others embraces.
"You know I want you.." William utters, his eyes gazing at the ground with a empty look. He gently pulls off the females (s/c) hands holding onto him. He heads over to the door, not even taking a glimpse of her forlorn expression.
"It's not a secret I try to hide
But I can't have you
We're bound to break and my hands are tied.."
The door closes with a small click, and the room was silent as tears fell from (Y/N)'s face. Hugging her arms close to her body.
(Okay, I know what you guys are thinking: why wasn't (Y/N) the female in the song? Or that something about William having him to be the male singer. My reason for this is because William is a complex character who sees reality as it is and he knows that his dream is very far off and it can't happen over night, sacrifices are needed to be made. While (Y/N) is too confident that everything is gonna be okay, things will be simple, which in reality, it isn't. So that's my take on it, hope you guys enjoyed it!)
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Hey! For the WIP thing, e/c college au?
ooh this one’s fun. Shadowgast college/modern with magic au with a whole lot of academic magic talk. Caleb and Essek are research assistants to Yussa and Waccoh, respectively, who are forced to work together on a research project despite their long-standing rivalry. While their bosses go on an enemies-to-colleagues (to lovers, maybe???) journey, Caleb and Essek bond over dunamancy.
I really love this au but it lacks enough plot to justify the worldbuilding, and also parts of it got piecemeal-ed into other fics so it seems kind of redundant now. I haven’t totally given up on it, but it’s definitely on the back burner. since I’m so fond of it, you get a much longer excerpt than necessary:
“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard in my life!” Professor Waccoh announced her arrival by shoving the door open like it had wronged her in a very cruel and personal manner. Yussa stormed in behind her, his robes swishing aggressively, as if they too were possessed with a righteous fury.
“Your plan will never work!” he cried. “The experiment will be over before it begins, because all our materials will have melted.”
“They won’t if we get mithril sheets instead of steel!” Waccoh countered.
“And blow a third of our grant funds on day one? What lunacy!”
Caleb and Essek exchanged long-suffering looks. Their first day as co-lab assistants to the joint research team of Waccoh and Errenis was not looking to be a pleasant one.
“Are we still on for tutoring later tonight?” Essek whispered under the noise of their bosses’ continuing argument.
“Of course,” Caleb answered. They were both standing against the wall at the edge of the lab, awaiting instruction, writing utensils at the ready to take down notes, but neither Yussa nor Waccoh seemed to realize they were even in the room. They had eyes only for each other.
“Of course we have to enchant the materials first! It will be so much easier than waiting until everything is assembled!”
“So what am I supposed to do, just sit here twiddling my thumbs and wait an eternity for you to cast your stupid spells? No way! I’m building the engine first, then I can move on with my life while you spend another decade enchanting it.”
“If you would just listen to reason, Tuss…”
Essek leaned over to Caleb again. “Perhaps it would be more efficient if we start now?”
Caleb looked up from the cat he’d been doodling in the margins of his notebook. It looked more like a sausage with legs and a tail—he was no Jester.
“What do you mean?”
“Here.” Grabbing his bag in one hand, Essek put the other on Caleb’s elbow and guided him to the next table over. Neither professor commented.
Sitting down, Essek pulled a cinderblock of a textbook out of his bag. The front cover showed a galaxy of stars overlaid with geometric designs and bold, block letters reading: Fundamentals of Dunamancy. And under that, in slightly smaller letters: Leylas Kryn, PhD. It was littered with sticky notes poking out the side of nearly every page.
Essek flipped open to one marking about a fourth of the way through the book, labeled CALEB.
“So,” Essek began, and Caleb scrambled to turn his notebook to a fresh page. “We left off last time talking about dunamis, correct?”
“Yes,” Caleb confirmed. “And the beacons.”
“Right. So you understand the origins of dunamancy.”
“I am a little unclear,” Caleb admitted. Curious, he glanced over to the other side of the lab. Yussa and Waccoh had migrated to the chalkboard, where they appeared to be laying out their respective arguments in bullet-point form. They did not seem to be in need of any assistance. He turned back to Essek.
“The beacons are fonts of magic, but they are also religious relics, correct?”
Essek nodded.
“But dunamancy is an arcane subject,” Caleb continued. “It does not come from worship of this Luxon figure, the way clerical magic is derived from deities. It is a realm of academic study.” Essek nodded again. “So, where does the religious connection come in?”
“Well, you have stumbled upon a matter of great controversy,” Essek answered. “Personally, I believe religion has nothing to do with it. If you ask me, the beacons’ connection to the Luxon is a historical note, a misguided invention from a time with a more primitive understanding of magic. If we were wise, we would disregard any writings that talk of its divine origins and approach the subject from a fresh perspective. But,” Essek mouth twisted into a bitter smile, “if you ask Professor Kryn, you will get a very different answer.”
“I see,” said Caleb, mind whirring as it mulled over the new information.
“But that debate is not essential to our lessons. You don’t need to understand the depths of the beacons in order to practice basic dunamancy. Although, I appreciate your curiosity.” His smile softened as he surveyed Caleb. “You have an uncanny talent for getting directly to the heart of the matter.”
Don’t ask so many questions, Bren.
Caleb blinked hard against the voice echoing at the back of his mind.
“Have these beacons been studied very closely?”
Essek tilted his head to the side, considering. “A bit? It’s difficult, with them being such cherished cultural artifacts. Most of the examination that has been done was conducted by archeologists and historians. A handful of arcanists in recent years, including Leylas, have been permitted to study them, but it’s an extremely thorough vetting process.” He paused, jaw working as though he was unsure about whether to allow the next words past his lips.
“The vetting is mostly done by high level clerics within the worship. I imagine Leylas’ long history of devout practice made them more inclined to allow her access.”
Caleb noted the tinge of sadness—and was that resentment?—in his voice. But Essek was speaking again before he could comment.
“I can send you some articles on the topic, if you wish to investigate further,” he said. “In the meantime, we move forward.”
Though it remained open in front of them, Essek hardly consulted the textbook once as their lesson continued. It was difficult not to pay attention when he talked; the smooth timber of his voice paired with the undeniable enthusiasm he had for the subject kept Caleb enraptured, Even the most basic elements, clearly known by rote, Essek explained with a spark of passion in his eye, which grew brighter with every question or clarification Caleb parried back.
He was an excellent teacher.
They had almost entirely forgotten about the job they were meant to be doing, and their bickering superiors, until over an hour later. While Essek was guiding Caleb through a diagram of common somatic movements for dunamantic spells, Yussa called out,
“Caleb! I need you to go to my office and retrieve my copy of Otiluke’s Guide to Enchantment, Volume IV. I have a point to prove!”
ask game
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She is so noble, so enthusiastic, and at the same time such a naive child, and in fact so like himself in character.
She is so noble, so enthusiastic, and at the same time such a naive child, and in fact so like himself in character. Yet, he tries. From my three hours’ conversation with Katya I carried away among other impressions the strange but positive conviction that she was still such a child that she had no idea of the inner significance of the relations of the sexes. All donations will directly help the refugees at the border.. Cersei sat as still as a stone statue as the shears clicked. However, using that as a statistic is misleading, since many people gave up their voice and their say zapatillas de tacos futbolin the election by not voting. One of Illyrio’s chests had been packed with a child’s clothing, musty but well made. Great Wolf would only say the facility would reopen next winter though city planning documents indicated the refurbishing of the complex was to be completed in November.. If you doubt me, ask Bronn. An event was recorded the first year
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Majestically Too Far Beyond : CSSNS 2020
It’s finally here! Yaaaay! Here’s my @cssns for 2020, Majestically Too Far Beyond, title based on the Poem written by Komal Kapoor. You can read my explanation of how this mess all got started Here. Art is by @kmomof4 and I threw in some too for fun.
Summary : Emma Swan has never been that type of girl, you know, the one that cries and sinks into a pint of ice cream after a break-up. She's never ever cared about anyone other than completely out of survival, but then came Neal, and then came the final big break up with someone maybe she sort of kind of loved. So now she is one of those girls who are homeless, living with her adopted brother and his wife at their farm in a long abandoned Victorian keeper's home, desperately trying to save to get her own place while working her difficult government job and as a merc witch on the side. When a desperate Witch calls on her to do a spell, it's all bad news - but then said Witch revealed a mountain of gold coins, and whimpered that Emma is her only hope. How can she not be a bad ass magic savior for this poor soul? All seems to be well, until the consequences are suddenly very real. Killian may be a Demon, a fallen Angel that now delights in the practice of revenge, but first and foremost he's a gentleman. Sort of. Especially when his ruddy Angel brother is focused on bureaucracy and keeping mankind out of chaos, while Killian barely keeps his denizens as safe as he can in a world that wants Demons dead. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. When Killian goes above to plead for more safety laws in the metropolis of Hyperion Hills, the city that lies over a major portal to hell, he does not expect to meet a council that the elemental five sit on. He especially doesn't expect that the council would ever take him seriously in his campaign for demon safety. Regina, Snow, Ariel, Elsa, and Belle seem dead set on making it their pet project - each for their own very different reasons. Especially when they bring up hiring a tempestuous security consultant, Emma Swan. When they adjourn, he can say that he is optimistically apprehensive. An optimistic Demon never leads to good things, unless by good things you mean throwing back rum while chasing a pretty woman for plundering. He's unsure of what to expect when challenged to do shot for shot by a mysterious blonde Witch, who didn't care who (or what) he is, but he does like a challenge. Too much in fact, the challenge raising the stakes, because from there on it becomes a blur, and yeah, he's bloody well in it now. The idea of a contract sounds fantastic when they stumbled into the strange tower, half naked and wanting. It's the ritual she does instead that he should have been paying attention to. So, maybe now he's missing a hand, and has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, his and someone else's, a mirror's accursed magic the only thing to tell him what took place: he's a prisoner until someone lets him free… And a woman that he’s positive did not exist in his life yesterday, who just happens to not only be a Witch but a complete stranger, is pregnant with his child.
Rated E, but really falls in at more of a M. Fluffy angst with some adult themes and hinted undertones. READ ON AO3 HERE.
Chapter 1 - Long ago, eclipses were feared as well:
To say that the Jones 'Brothers' had been fighting since time began, was not an understatement, but also not exactly truthful. They had actually been fighting before recorded time, and before there was even a concept of the perception of anything besides the aether or eternity.
That's why he'd fallen, actually. Loss was a powerful motivation, enough even to question the utmost Authority - and the Authority despised questioning. Fighting was in the nature of the divine Celestials, as it seemed, and in Her infinite curiosity that She defined as 'Wisdom', God had let Lucifer burn too brightly. Their war was a lover's jealous quarrel turned violent.
Although Liam was created moments before Killian, they were brothers (as it were) even amongst a host of angels, and they were close regardless of their stubborn spats. They fought over the world and its workings, Liam given a flaming sword while Killian was given books. They fought over knowledge of the divine arts, arguing whether humans were worthy of the Arcane. They fought over Killian's love of a mortal woman, and his questioning of commandments.
They fought over Killian standing behind Lucifer, and Liam fought Killian right before he fell. In some ways, it was Liam's own hand that pushed Killian, but in his last angelic act, Killian forgave his brother.
While Earthborne and some remnant Angels believed Demons were not capable of love, they were of course wrong. Demons loved, lost, and forgave just as any others. Even after the schism, even after years of passive aggressive pettiness between both sides, Demons were still seen as wayward, dark, demented creatures. Angels had done little to fight this stereotype, instead reveling in their continued status as goodwill ambassadors.
Even their name amongst mortals was a cosmic joke, the Creator and her lover-made-antagonist too long gone to bother with proper names. They were Angels or Demons to some cultures as humans grew on God's abandoned project, while others called them by their new names.
The Angel Diana was called a Goddess alongside Hecate, Freya, Gabriel, Uriel, and many others. The Demons Zeus, Odin, Loki, Hades, and Poseidon happily took on roles that suited their carnal needs. Angels mixed with mortals along with Demons, God's secret seeds of elemental magics taking life along beside them as Druids, Fae, and Elementals. Some of the Celestials even birthed life as their lost parents had, Demons begetting Demons, Angels begetting Angels, and everything or anything in between.
Humans gained magical prowess as the world changed, Witches, Druids, Warlocks, Mortismals, and Mesmerels becoming the norm for human bloodlines.
Still, Demons were given less, all because God had cursed them irrevocably before disappearing with Lucifer into the abyss. They were cellularly different now than any of the Angels they had once been, a yoke around their neck that they could be forced to obey. Like Angels, they could be worshipped, called, trapped, or contracted even as their powers and bodies twisted into the curse stained strangeness God graced them with. They were looked on with disgust, pity, horror, and anger for it despite their best attempts.
Which was why his sodding Ponce of a brother working as an Angel ambassador for a Prince of Hell was so important - and so bloody frustrating.
It wasn't as if being a Prince of Hell wasn't stressful enough - his people always under siege or afraid of some Witch summoning them to place a brand, then using them as a charcuterie board - no. It was that his brother was a baked potato when it came to convincing the public they were not what millennia of ingrained hatred had established Demons as.
Bosch had died before Killian could uppercut him, regardless of his depiction of Liam as a trumpeting ferret bird or the even less flattering version of Killian. Dante had been another great PR stunt his brother had botched miserably. The Rings of Hell weren't even used, Lucifer gone before he could put God's plans for punishment into place. Now as a museum and reenactment park, it was a popular attraction that helped generate funds for the denizens that lived in the spacial plane that surrounded it, but Dante's review had been swayed by Liam taking him into The Kingdom right after. How could Hell ever live up to the paradise God herself had planned for humans? Only Cedar Point, Busch Gardens, Disney, or Universal Studios could come close as far as themed parks. It was a complete disaster.
This newest idea of Killian sitting on the board of Hyperion Heights to work with the world's premier intersectional coven, 'StoryBrooke', was another terrible idea in the making, and Killian had no qualms letting his brother know it.
"This is absolutely ridiculous Liam," Killian gritted out, itching under the glamor that made him look mortal. Being confined in a skin suit had his molecules vibrating so loudly he could hear his canines, starlight and cosmic fire sending pinpricks of goose flesh down the dark hairs of his arms and legs. Wearing this was torture enough without Liam staring at him in disdain, his own heavenly image unblemished. Even his halo was a polished gold around his fat head. "While I am a dashing rapscallion in my original skin, don't you think it's bad form for them to see me like this instead of how I actually look? Isn't the point of this to show that even if we're not as pretty as your lot, we're still beings that deserve respect?"
Liam grunted, rolling his eyes. Blue fire from explosions of stars and galaxies lit in mirrors of Killian's own, but framed by rosy cheeks and tawny curls instead of moving shadow, a ghoulish pallor, and dark hair the color of ink or raven's feather. The Angelic glamor contained the haze of darkness that moved like smoke around him, the length of his fingers and claws, and made his flesh look pale but not tinted the color of the universe's light. It did not hide his horns (remnants of shattered halo) or his twitching tail if someone chose to leave eyes on him too long, but that was another Demonic burden to bear.
"First impressions, little brother. Even the most progressive Witch is still a Witch. I'd rather them see you like this instead of wondering if you truly need all your giblets."
Killian swallowed hard, nodding once before grumbling, "Younger brother. Younger."
"Go over your notes again. You'll need to be your nauseatingly charming self for this, especially if they bring the males in their midst," Liam asked of him, and Killian looked out the dark windows of the car as his tail moved in agitation.
"Regina. Head of the Coven, Witch and Mortismal that inherited her throne from her mother. Began the integration method and broke away from the Misthaven Coven to create the StoryBrooke one," Killian intoned.
"Right. She's a tough nut too, and her ghosts do the most of her dirty work. She's not someone to cross unless you want your chairs stacked to the ceiling every morning by some bloody poltergeist."
"Aw, well, I'm unfortunately haunted by you already, I doubt a poltergeist could do more damage." Killian slanted a look at his brother, who gave an annoyed huff as his pure white feathers ruffled. Killian was thankful in part that he did not have wings at all times, even if the trade off was painful. "While Regina is the head of the Coven, the head of the Council is Elsa Frost of the Frost twins. She's a direct descendant of the Giant Ice Sorceresses with powerful magic, but her passion is creating legislation for Hyperion Heights. Her sister Anna is the family's public relations face, and runs their fashion empire, Arendelle Designs with her Druid husband."
"Good. Good, tell me about Ariel Poisson."
"Siren and Mermaid, with four years on the council. Made history as the first water Elemental to sit on the council, beating the long seated Witch, Ursula, by a large margin. Opponents argue that her father's position as King of the seas and his dominion over fair weather and fishing made voters nervous to not cast ballots for her. Her campaign slogan was 'Part of your World', which could be beneficial to my campaign."
"Right. Snow Blanchard?"
"Would-be heir to the Misthaven Coven who ended its elitist reign by breaking tradition and leaving, sending them into chaos." Killian smirked. "She sounds like someone who I could get along with."
"She gets along with everyone except her family, which is more than normal it would seem," Liam replied back, and Killian snorted out a chuckle.
"Druid, Elf, and Green Witch. Runs a high profile herbal apothecary chain Enchanted Forest Supplies, focused on holistic medicinals, herbs, and spices. Nolan Farms is a subsidiary that sells produce to the Heights, which is her husband's 'pet' project."
"Watch yourself, brother," Liam warned. "While you might get away with that if it's just the Witches, if David and Ruby sit in today you'll find that will not stand."
"Ah, yes. Ruby Reddings and David 'Charming' Nolan. You only circled that they are Werewolves in red ink everywhere you could. David is Snow's husband, and her lead farm hand. Ruby is Snow's cousin who introduced the two. Ruby is currently in a high profile relationship with your colleague, Inspector Wolfe, and they both are very active in pack politics. Many are betting they will create their own pack if the current Alphas do not abandon some of the more ancient doctrines. Nothing new there."
"Don't forget Livre and Fa."
"Belle Livre, Witch turned Vampire, runs a community literacy foundation and bookstore chain. Known ally to Demon rights. Soft spoken but brutally intelligent. Introduced a synthetic blood that allows for daytime living via plant cells collaborating with Enchanted Forest, which made history 6 years ago," Killian listed. "Mulan Fa, Vampire. Cultural Development head of the Heights, and curator of The Hyperion Heights Museum of Art, History, Science, and Culture. Teaches part time at Hyperion Heights University as an adjunct professor. Fa is married to a Fae Elf, Merida Ursa."
"Good. That's as far as we know besides the whole Swan fiasco, which is not to be brought up."
"What Swan fiasco?"
"Oh, little brother. If you had done your research outside of the profiles I gave you, you would know all about the criminal history of the black and heartless sheep within the Misthaven and StoryBrooke covens. It's better off that you don't know."
"Er. Well. Alright. I didn't look into them because I don't bloody well care about their lots as long as we get protection. There was another slaying this weekend. A Lower Demon."
"I'm aware. Did you know her?"
"Not really, but that's not enough either. I owe my people more. The other Lords of Hell are fine telling Demons to stay below and never use their name, which is fine for the new blood. It's the old, the weak, and the abused that are at risk."
"Careful, Killian. Your lust for vengeance will never be welcomed by mortals."
"I'm well aware Liam. They like my kind for an entirely different kind of lust."
"Could you please not." Liam sighed, sitting back against the seat. After a moment, his brother spoke quietly. "There was another attack as well, this time in broad daylight in Camelot Town. The Anti-Integration Movement has claimed responsibility."
"Of bloody course they have!" Killian hissed, clenching his fists. He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing. "Brilliant. Just absolutely marvelous -"
"They were going to run a story in the Times. I managed to block it for now, but we need a sympathetic writer on the inside, or we risk them running another story with their bias."
"I have a guy. I'll reach out, he's an old school Warlock who I've worked with in the past on push back. What's their excuse this time?"
"They said that the Succubus was, quote, 'asking for it by the way she was dressed'."
Nausea rose in Killian's throat, and he swallowed it down with bitter practice. "I wasn't aware that how someone dressed meant their lives were not only void, but taking pieces of them was fine as well."
"We know they're being funded well, and we will get arrests as soon as possible. This won't be forever, Killian."
"That's easy for you to promise when this has been my - our forever." Killian bit out, glaring at his feet.
The car came to a stop, the driver opening the door to let them out. Killian moved briskly up the steps of the council building, as Liam followed behind. They moved through the lobby with an easy flash of Liam's ID that Killian scoffed at, moving into the elevator.
"After that display, I'm going drinking after this," Killian gritted through his teeth.
Liam blinked, straightening his tie in the door's polished reflection. "What display? They were nice."
"Exactly. If I came here alone, I would have been in that security line for an hour."
Liam rolled his eyes, taking down his halo to polish the golden ring. "You absolutely exaggerate how you're treated. Not everyone is out to get you, especially when you look like this. Give others a break."
"I'll give myself a break after this with as much rum as I can safely consume, instead."
The doors pinged open to reveal a small atrium, dark wood flooring in stark contrast to the birch tree covered walls. A secretary stood behind a rounded desk against the far wall, motioning for them to sit.
"They'll be with you in a moment," she offered, glancing at them with a thin smile. Killian could practically taste her distrust as he scratched behind his ear. Liam swatted at him lightly in a bid to get him to stop, both of them tense when the doors finally opened to reveal a petite woman dressed in a powder blue skirt and blazer.
"Come in gentleman. The council will see you now." She smiled icily. His brother stood, his feathers slightly puffed in an indication of his own nervousness.
Killian followed a second later, walking with them as they made forced, but pleasant conversation all the way into the boardroom.
Women sat at a long table that curved slightly, facing their own small table similar to a courtroom. He was reminded of the tribunals in the old days when law had begun, but the courtiers were far different than the strange group of women scrutinizing them.
To his surprise, the majority of them seemed actually curious instead of repulsed or bored.
"The council recognizes Liam Jones and Killian… Jones. These are your chosen surnames, correct? And you identify as… brothers?"
"Yes," Liam stated firmly with a curt nod. Killian watched from his peripheral as his shoulder muscles twitched, his wings held stiffly upright to keep them from the floor.
Killian nodded, careful to keep his tail curled around his legs. The skin suit itched as it clung to him, not abated by his attempt to sit more casually.
"Interesting," remarked the dark haired witch at the far right. A nameplate sat in front of her, marking her as Regina. He wondered idly if her stare was due to the blood on his hands only an eternal existence could bring.
"You are here to ask for help in creating safety measures and a potential council commitment to Demon rights, correct?" Ariel, a fiery haired lass with a heart face, asked.
"Our major point of concern is the influx of hate groups that seem to fall in line with smuggling operations and planned violence," Killian said slowly. Attention snapped to him, and he brought up the slide presentation he had prepared. "We have had some luck stopping shipments and arresting bit players, but we can't find the heads of these operations."
"You can't find them, or you are barred from digging deeper?" Mulan asked, and he chuckled darkly.
"The latter, I'm afraid. We have consistently come to the same dead end again and again. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you ladies how difficult a foe powerful covens behind corporate entities are." He let a grimace creep onto his face, and saw the majority of the women nod in acknowledgement.
"This could make many enemies for us, if approached in the wrong way." Belle stated quietly. "Specifically with our good friends in the Storybrooke Coven."
Snow nodded, exchanging a bitter look with her. "We may need a professional from our coven, but she's unable to get clearance without special notation."
"Oh? Who is this?" Liam asked.
Elsa and the rest of the coven smiled in varying degrees of fondness. "The best in the business, and in my Coven. If you need to find someone, Emma Swan can always find them, and she's good at criminal magical activities. She knows the system, knows how and where to hide, and where to seek."
They'd found what the coven wanted, and their stake in the venture. Killian caught Liam's face falling, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"You can't be serious. Involving Swan in this after -"
"That was all a misunderstanding, and was blown completely out of proportion. We have long held up our end of the blame and accountability, while Misthaven has shirked theirs in the name of slandering her." Elsa steepled her fingers. "If you desire the best, which I assume is why you are here, you need to rehab not only Demons’ image, but hers as well. She should be sitting here with us."
Liam tried in vain to tip the scale back in their favor, his face going red. "We'll consider this as part of our negotiations."
"Negotiations? Liam, you are a detective. You should have deduced by now that you have no leverage. You have only decisions to make." Regina closed her planner, regarding them with her dark gaze. "So, make them quickly, before our patience wanes."
Killian bit back a laugh at Liam’s sudden blustered stuttering. These witches were good, and as the meeting ran on for hours he realized just how much liquor he would need to recover.
"Well that went well."
Liam’s sour expression and slumped shoulders were just visible in his peripheral, even as his feathers were still quite literally ruffled. He huffed out a noise of disapproval, too vexed to even reply back.
"Aye to that, brother." Licking his lips, they stepped into the cool dusk air. "I'm going for that drink, are you…?" Killian glanced at Liam, who shook his head with annoyance.
"Seriously? You really -"
"Really shouldn't what Liam?" Killian smiled, venom leaking into his tone. "Go get drunk in a town that would rather pretend I don't exist or sell me in a fine powder to the nearest bidder? I think I'll be okay, although the concern is duly noted."
He turned on his heel, his glamor falling away in a puff of smoke. The air hit his itchy, overheated skin, his tail whipping around in sharp, agitated flicks.
"Take care of yourself, little brother! No need to be a self destructive bastard. We lost a battle, not the war!" Liam called after him, stepping into his sleek car. Killian snorted.
Hailing a cab with some difficulty, the driver asked where he was headed with the same slight resignation he was used to for his kind.
"A bar, Demon friendly please. Some place without swill."
The driver nodded, dropping him at a dimly lit corner of the city. A red neon sign spread crimson light along the sidewalk, soft light also spilling out the doors accompanied by loud guitar. Looking up, the looping, swirled lettering made him smirk. 'The Jealous Flask' was as good a place as any in his neck of the underworld woods.
The inside was smoky, deep red damask wallpaper paired with dark, pitch stained wood panels, booths, and bartop. The liquor selection was displayed neatly, unlike the few early patrons sitting scattered around. The jukebox played warbly rock music, some punchy chords and an easy to memorize refrain.
'one two three four, can I have a little more, five six seven eight nine ten, I love you'
The bar stools were empty, and Killian slung himself onto one, the bartender nodding his head by way of a greeting.
"Rum, neat," Killian stated, pointing to his preferred vice. The bartender did not stop polishing the glass in his hand, but the bottle floated down gently, pouring itself into a tumbler before the glass set itself down in front of Killian. "Thanks, mate."
The bartender nodded again, continuing his work with the aid of his magic. People began to trickle in as the time ticked forward, a witch or two eyeing him suspiciously, vampires playing pool in the front, a group of young werewolves forcing change into the jukebox to get edgier music playing through the speaker system. The Clash crooned out words against the Fae Queen ruling over greater Eld, the pack jumping around excitedly and thrashing their heads back and forth. By this time Killian had moved to the far curve of the bar, his glass refilled to the point of the bottle sitting next to him like a patient date. There were still no other Demons in his presence. It shouldn't have surprised him, shouldn't have even made him angry with the amount of violence they were privy to, but he burned away the emotions with the alcohol flowing down his throat.
A soft touch on his shoulder caught his attention, and he turned with a growl. It died in his throat when large eyes met his, blonde curls falling in front of her eyes in loose tendrils.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," she stammered, biting her lip. Pointing to a drink that was clearly not his, umbrella and all, she continued. "I was trying to reach my drink. It’s gotten crowded and I thought, I mean, I am sorry I wasn't trying to -"
"Aye." He nodded, throwing back his drink. "S'alright lass. I'm sorry, I s'pose I'm just a bit out of place here."
She smiled, blushing. "Yeah, I uh, I get that. I haven't seen you around before."
"First time here. I was in the neighborhood for business." He poured himself more, and to his surprise she pushed and elbowed her way to sit next to him.
"Business?" Her eyes were curious while her fingers toyed with the umbrella in her drink. "Should I be concerned?"
It was clearly teasing, and Killian felt himself loosening up around her. She seemed to read him well, or at least the alcohol was working. "Not any of the good kind, I'm afraid." He grinned with a wink.
"Ah, so we're just ships passing in the night?" She leaned in and he could smell the floral and herbal scent of her, her eyelashes batting coquettishly as she sipped her drink in his space.
"Passing closely, I hope," he murmured. His heart raced; it had been ages since any mortal had shown interest in him that was mutual.
His head spun as she met him drink for drink, hand unsubtly creeping higher up his hip.
"Would you be opposed to… Maybe, I don't know… getting out of here?"
"Are you saying you would fancy a nightcap, lass?" She smiled from under her lashes while biting her lip, and his heated blood grew hotter.
"Perhaps." She stood with grace as she extended a hand to him. "My place is a quick and easy teleportation spell away from here, and my bed doesn't require any sort of magic outside of what I can do with my tongue."
Killian hesitated, her golden hair in the glow of the lights making her seem to shimmer. "I don't even know your name -"
"Eloise. It's Eloise." She pulled him up, letting him stumble into her body. Her lips met his, and soon he was pulling her closer as their mouths slanted across one another's in hunger. She bit his lip and he felt the tightness that had bloomed in his belly spread fire down his spine.
"Lead the way, love," he whispered huskily, grinding into her.
She smiled broadly, the world shifting until he was in her dimly lit home. A lone window twinkled starlight, moon huge outside as it hung in the sky. Her tongue slid past his lips, the bitter herbal taste overwhelming while the world shifted again, this time pulling him apart.
In a perfect world, Emma Swan would not be doing anything remotely close to what she was currently debating doing. It truly wasn't her fault; it fell on Neal and his stupid family if anyone was to blame, and his stupid coven with their stupid leader. She should have known back then it had been a set up, should have known that Neal was a fucking liar. How many times did the same drawn out plot have to play out? Apparently, too many, considering she had still warmed his bed until a week ago.
This time it was final. Emma wouldn't accept him back when Neal slithered out from under the rock he had his affair in. She wouldn't be charmed by his smooth talking silver tongue, and if he so much as breathed near her, she would take another five years for breaking his smarmy Fae nose. Final. It had to be final.
But finality meant certain conditions had to be met, especially if she was to ward him away. For one, the beautiful loft that belonged to Neal in the Heights downtown could definitely not be her base of operations any more. Neither could the various in between places she found where Emma could grieve until he took her back, damaged goods and all. No more hotel rooms, no more abandoned apartments, no more warehouses, vacation rentals, or quiet empty offices. She had to get her own place, and it had to be able to handle her particularly finicky magic. Neal's place wasn't great for her particular practice, but the view had been killer enough to ignore it. Neal's fortune had meant she didn't need to work, and with her record (or, as his coven would sneer, 'notoriety') that was just as well.
Working added a wrinkle to her life; she would have to find somewhere that allowed her enough space for her magic to keep her employed. That would require a hefty chunk of gold - if she was lucky. The prices in the downtown area were steep, only high profile Witches, Warlocks, Fae, and Celestials could afford accommodation that close to the capitol buildings and Ley Lines. Initially when Emma had glanced through the apartment listings on the bulletin board, she had almost had a panic attack at the amount of gold they demanded.
Her brother David, blessings be, had been her knight in shining armor. There was a large Victorian home that lay in shambles at the edge of their farm lands, its beautiful scalloped details in need of paint, and the gutters growing weeds as thick as her forearm. But, it was within her budget if she could get the down payment placed before the scheduled demolition. She put what she had down to stall as much as she could, but it was not enough in the least.
One big job was all she needed. One big job that she could cash out on. A dip of her toes back into the waters of peddling illegal magic, just quickly in and out without a splash.
She didn't need any more jail time, that was for certain.
Putting out the word she was available in the whisper market was always dangerous, but listening in was free and without a snag if you were smart.
Emma heard tell of a desperate woman willing to give a truckload full of gold to the right Witch who could perform delicate, esoteric, deeply Arcane and forbidden magics. Luckily for both of them, that's what Emma excelled at.
She had always been good at her craft, and her magical workings were beyond powerful. She could do things that other practitioners only dared to dream of, if they could even conceive it. It was why Neal had kept her around, and why his coven's dislike would melt away if she said she would consider joining.
(If she did that around Yulesmas for better gifts, was it really so bad?)
The request itself was intriguing, the woman herself a Witch that could not do the spell alone. She wanted an equivalent exchange of unbreakable magical bonds, which while tricky, was not forbidden in most circumstances. The offer was too good to pass up on, but Emma didn't like leaving things to complete chance.
Cue her sister-in-law, Snow. If anyone could throw runes, read the winds, divine from the mundane, and not keep any of it a fucking secret, it was Snow.
Emma knocked on their cheery red door in the early morning, which must have been a surprise to Snow considering she was half dressed in business wear. She pulled up her stockings in a one footed hop, motioning for Emma to come in as she balanced the phone receiver against her neck. The coiled cord spun around her, and she groaned loudly.
"Yes, Regina, I know. I'll be there, I'm literally - it's 2 hours away. I will be there in thirty minutes at latest, but - Well, yes, Emma just walked in." Snow gestured at a chair, and Emma sat, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. "Yes, I know it's early for her. I know. Uh huh. Yes. We will definitely put her on the table; it's absurd not to, considering - yes, I would love to talk to you about this in person as I've said - alright. Yes. Okay then, buh-bye."
Sighing, Snow twirled, untwisting herself from the phone cord. She smoothed down her pencil skirt and blouse before looking straight at Emma with a curious stare. Her mouth twitched with annoyance as she spoke.
"Now. To what do I owe the pleasure? I have a meeting with Celestials shortly, so." She waved a hand indicating the clock in the background. Turning to the counter, she opened up a cookie jar and removed a rolled cannabis cigarette, putting it between her lips and lighting it.
Emma swallowed, watching the petite woman slide the purple lighter back in its space on their counter. "I just need you to divine something for me. A situation, with a woman who wants me to… to uh, do something."
Snow rolled her eyes, narrowing them to glare at Emma. "We are bringing you up as collateral in our meeting today, trying to get you a seat where you belong - on the council," Snow hissed. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a breath.
"Please?" Emma asked innocently, batting her eyelashes for good measure.
Snow sighed. "Alright. Picture the situation and the woman."
Emma focused on the description, the spellwork requested, the woman's pleas. She could feel Snow's magic engulf her, and the fuzziness that came with it as she wove threads out into the natural universe, time and space sending her back answers.
A moment passed, and the feeling abruptly stopped as Snow shook her head.
"This doesn't feel right," Snow said, taking a drag of her blunt. She exhaled, the thick smoke swirling into the shape of birds that dove through the air. Emma coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. "That woman… I don't know. She feels off."
Emma frowned, petulant that the answer was negative. "She's a Witch, and in trouble."
"Have you rolled your runes?" Snow began to pull on her loafers, gathering her things.
Emma chewed her lip. She had divined, or tried to, but had not found a concrete result. "Yeah, and they said it's… Questionable, but the end result leaves all parties happy. Tarot said basically the same thing."
Snow let out a little twittering laugh, pulling her purse up on her shoulder. "And how does Neal feel about it?"
"Neal doesn't need to feel any way about it. I… We… I broke it off." Emma looked at her shoes, then idly inspected the counters formica. "Forever this time."
"Oh. Is that why you're here so early?" Snow's eyes went wide, a hand covering her mouth. "Oh, Emma, honey. I'm so sorry, I've just been under so much stress with Regina and this council. Wait, where are you staying? Oh no - are you homeless!? You mean it, you're never going back to that creep?"
"Never," Emma said firmly, even as her voice caught. "I'll find a place though, Snow. Don't worry."
"So you are homeless, oh Emma, if I wasn't late - no. No. You know, I'll call Regina and cancel it, you need me more than -"
"No, well, I mean -" Emma shook her head. "No. I'll stay here tonight if I have to, but you need to get to your meeting. I don't need Regina's wrath on top of everything else."
"You know you can stay here with us as long as you need, oh, Emma, I wish you had told me -"
"I don't want to stay here. I can't work here, and I love you guys but you both are gross with your lovey dovey hippie -"
"I get it, I get it." Snow grimaced.
"So yeah, I need the money. I can't stay here, I need my own place… I put a tiny deposit on that Victorian down the road, but I need the full down payment to keep it." Emma shrugged.
"The house at the --- Emma, that place is a breeze away from being condemned!"
"No it's not," Emma groaned, rubbing her temple. "It's got good bones, and character. It just needs some… help."
"Well. I mean…" Snow hesitated, heading towards the door, as Emma followed. "Alright then. I'm just warning you, I get a terrible vibe from that woman and I could cancel this today, we could work out a plan. We have the money from the harvest. You could work for us or with David and help us with the roll outs in exchange for a loan. I'm organized, but the help would be appreciated if you're living so close… especially since I'm making sure that house is safely remodeled for you. I don't want you to end up with the roof falling on you or some gas line exploding."
"You worry way too much, Snow."
"I hear the future through nature, and it's generally terrifying. Nature is terrifying. Excuse me for being cautious, and wanting to help you out."
Emma laughed as they walked out the door together, Snow rummaging in her bag for lipstick which she quickly applied. "Yeah well, you're also smoking weed so potent it could put an elephant to sleep. I don't want a loan from you."
"I'm not an elephant, Em. I'm an Elf. It'll take more than this to knock me on my ass." She smiled, extending a hand to squeeze Emma's shoulder. "Be careful, okay? No repeats."
"That wasn't -" Emma protested, but Snow cut her off with a sharp look. "Yeah, alright.
"Good. I'll see you tonight, you're coming for dinner. No buts." Snow grinned, before disappearing with a puff of periwinkle smoke.
Emma groaned, kicking dirt as she stalked away towards her new potential home.
In the final days before moving from the small basement apartment Emma rented, the dingy, unused, bare studio finally found some decoration in chalk outlines, herbs, and a large bubbling cauldron. It hadn't ever been a home or remotely close to one when Neal presented a better option, the bed untouched and unmade. It reminded Emma more of her prison cell than anything else, which offered a strange duality of comfort mixed with dread. It was fitting that she would meet to do this ritual here.
Gothel arrived promptly for their 10 am arranged meeting in a well worn taupe cloak. She looked as desperate as the correspondences between them indicated, but Emma resolved to get this over with as quickly as possible. They shared a nod in the form of hellos, then Emma pointed to the cauldron.
"Let's begin, shall we?" Emma asked, and Gothel drew back her cloak to reveal her tired and gaunt looking face.
"Yes. Let's. Your payment, with more upon completion." Gothel dropped a large purse on the counter, Emma immediately grabbing it and checking the contents. It was real, her heart soaring as she shoved it in her bag.
"So, you are to give me a token of your will, usually blood, an animal you raised, or something that's valuable to you . Something you care about, that you are tied to that a severing will make you -"
"I give you the life of my first child," Gothel interrupted.
Emma's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh." Biting her lip, she brushed back her braid. "That's… That's super Illegal. I…"
"You wanted something heavy, you got it. There's a reason why I came to you; you have a reputation for doing things quietly. The reason you chose me is because you need the coin. Now, my terms. I know you provide healing. I want to keep myself young and strong - youthful immortality. Grant me this." The grin on her face unsettled Emma, Snow's warning in her mind. Nevertheless, the satchel of gold meant a secured home.
"Um. Alright. Are you sure, the life of your firstborn? That's a ways off, and the strength won't happen until -"
"Do it. Do it now, I know the spell will be enacted when payment is due. I'm well studied - Breaking a bond with a child, specifically your first, will grant me the power I need. I know that I can't do this spell myself either, so here I am."
Emma gulped. "Okay. Let me get the texts."
Emma returned with her copper cauldron, pile of books, and spell components. Gothel's grin grew wider, her eyes gleaming at the sight of the tongues, eyes, crushed butterflies, and other more macabre ingredients the spell required.
Feeling a low tug in her gut that something was wrong, Emma backed away from the altar. The other Witch seemed to shimmer, slightly in alarm, a glamor of some sort possibly covering her skin. Feeling even more unsettled, Emma shook her head.
"I can't do this, listen -"
"Please. Please you must, I need this to escape a curse. It's blood magic, almost unbreakable and impossible to escape on my own. Please." Emma heard no lies in her speech. "I admit that I have not been entirely truthful. While I was able to send you the gold easily, I am trapped, held against my will. I can only project myself to you. I was afraid to tell you, because I am desperate to rid myself of this curse." When no lies continued to register, Emma felt a deep sense of pity for the other witch. A blood magic binding was no joke; someone truly must have hated the poor woman.
"Fine," Emma said, throwing her hands up. Gothel perked up slightly, hope in her eyes. Throwing the ingredients in the cauldron, a shimmering mist roiled over the edge as she spoke ancient words and stirred in the shape of long unused runes. Adding bones that melted in soapy bubbles and stirring with a long Pegasus feather that gradually turned to ash, she looked up at Gothel, who was wringing her hands anxiously.
"Your tokens?" Emma asked.
Gothel waved a hand over the stained cloth; several of the woman's teeth, a long braid of her hair, and a large chunk of skin fell into the cauldron. The cauldron's contents began to boil, smoke curling in darkened serpentine tangles.
Emma began the words, Latin, Arameric, the old tongue of the Pagans, Celtic, remnants of Gaul, flowing them together until speaking plainly to her own magic.
"Blood of one that is two, child, mother,
Blood of my own, tear them asunder,
Thicker than wine, thicker than water,
Ties that bind, bound to another,
The womb that grows life,
Kin cared for in kind,
A payment for power,
Remake the ties, lift, and unbind."
Scraping her hand against a dagger, Emma let her blood drop slowly into the brew, the words flowing out in the crimson rivulets. As she pulled away the wound closed from her own healing energy.
"Cradle of moon within flesh,
Remake that which is to be made,
Your reflection removed,
Mine in its stead.
Your burden is mine,
Carried and held as your first,
Blood of the two, child, mother,
As they are born, you are cursed."
She looked at Gothel, who was still wringing her hands, long nails cutting into her palms. This magic was hopefully worth the price the woman had so freely paid. Breaking an infant and mother's bond to give to another was a great sacrifice, the magic comparable to true love, if not greater. The power the Witch would receive would hopefully free her from the curse, but also give her the strength she desired.
"It's done. You must cast your brand over the cauldron, and when you, you know," Emma turned around, holding herself tightly. Caught up in the thought of what she, Emma Swan, would even do with a child, she was unaware of the other Witch behind her scrambling to the cauldron or her deep disregard for anything she was saying. "Get pregnant, let me know. I'll handle that - Wait, what are you -"
Gothel chuckled lowly, her brand in its arcane circle around the cauldron, neon lines of electricity like power that sparked and crackled. Emma felt her hair stand on end, small pebbles lifting off the stone floor as the cauldron shook. Smoke rose in heavy plumes, purple and a noxious mauve that made the air feel sticky, her lungs not able to fill all the way. Gothel's chuckle had turned into a wild cackle, her braided and matted hair like vines or a visage of Medusa.
Gothel's voice was crazed, shrill as she pointed a gnarled finger at Emma. "This is it. This is it! I've done it, I'm free! Oh, you silly, stupid girl. Now nothing will ever stop me again!"
Her laugh grew into a shriek of triumph as magic swirled around them, Emma watching as the woman in front of her disappeared. Gaping at what happened, Emma checked herself for any signs of curses or hexes, unsure of what had just taken place.
To her surprise, no sign of magic lay on her that she could see. She wasn't cursed, the room wasn't jinxed, and the second payment… Emma quickly checked her purse, finding the large satchel of gold easily. The second sat where Gothel had discarded it without looking twice, and she picked it up hesitantly. It was heavy in her hands as she checked it again and again, realizing that for once in her life, everything was going right.
Three hours later, she owned the Victorian home down the road from her brother's farm, the first home she had ever truly called hers.
Living near her brother's home had its perks, and disadvantages, as Snow had hinted. For one, Snow was cooking for her every day, and Emma was positive she was going to gain several dress sizes if she didn't stop gorging on various pasta dishes while pouring her magic into restoring the wooden floor.
A major downside was having her brother constantly fixing her house without her being aware. She'd been woken by him cleaning the gutters, fixing her porch, and of all things, roofing. It had only been a few days, but between his insistence on the outside being presentable and her own work inside, the house was coming along faster than she ever dreamed. It was frightening, and David kept her on edge with his very obvious attempts at snooping around.
"So, you're done with Neal for good," he said, startling her as she sat out on a newly hung porch swing. She wrinkled her nose at him in protest, and he grinned. "And… You're making doors again."
She froze, panic gripping her.
"It's alright, I'm not mad. I'm just - just be careful. I trust you, but I know that before -"
"I made a mistake. I know it, you know it, the Coven knows it, and so does everyone else in the Heights that saw me fall from grace." Emma curled her arms around her knees, bitterly forcing out words. "I won't make the same mistake again. I am on the straight and narrow; these doors are for commuting and hunting skips only."
David laughed, poking her in the side. "Back to hunting skips, huh? Damn. Don't you ever settle down and enjoy the simple life?"
Emma laughed, shaking her head. "What the hell is the simple life? Nothing is simple."
"Well, yeah, but… I mean the simple life." He brushed a hand through his hair, looking at her with a gentleness that she instantly felt uneasy with. "House, a pet maybe, hobbies, a partner, kids -"
"If you are trying to set me up again -"
"Not me," David raised his hands defensively. "No, I was just -"
"I don't deserve that life," Emma stated, shrugging. The sun was sinking lower, crickets singing in the cool air. "That life isn't for me. That life is for people like you and Snow, people that are worth something."
"Oh, Emma. You know that's not -"
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Emma snapped, standing with a start. David looked at her with a hurt expression, and she felt pure rage. "Goodnight."
She stepped back into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind her.
"Emma, come on," David called from the porch, but Emma wasn't listening to him as she fought the immediate urge to be ill. The sudden nausea ripped through her, and despite her attempts, vomit burst from her throat.
She panted, holding on to the wall with one hand. The other hand gripped her side, fierce cramping making her double over in a scream of agony. She lurched forward, unable to breathe as pressure rose in her stomach. To her terror, her skin grew taut and she seemed to bloat, the pain of it ripping through her.
David splintered the door, his arms around her as she lost consciousness.
She woke in an ambulance, David holding her hand like he'd done when they were children. He was always the best big brother she could have asked for, always protective of her, and always pushing her to be better. He had convinced her to trust Ruth, convinced her to take a chance with the older woman who was willing to adopt both of them, and they had found another home together. When she was scared or sick, he was right there to hold her hand. Even now as pain ripped through her, he was there. She tried to understand, but her body burned until the flame became too much to bear.
She woke again to the beeping of machines and David's yelling, her body aching but no longer in the same searing pain. Lifting herself up to try and hear what David was saying, she struggled to make out more than just fragments.
"I'm not leaving, that's my sister ---- How did -- she wasn't, she --- I don't know, she never said anything ----- A WHAT? No! I'm --- not leaving!"
Emma's stomach lurched, and she shifted to get out of bed. The sheets slid from her middle, and she gasped. Her middle was rounded, as if she was pregnant. But that was impossible, that was absolutely and completely impossible.
A knock sounded, a petite woman entering.
"I'm Doctor Mullins, Emma. I know that this may take some time to fully process, but… you're pregnant."
Emma hissed out a breath into a hysterical laugh. "What? No. No. This is not how babies work, or pregnancy, or even - I haven't even had sex since - "
"I know, and I understand that you must be frightened." The doctor attempted to console her, but Emma could not stop her rising panic. She touched the rounded skin of her stomach, the firm smoothness lined with stretch marks. Letting out a low wail, the doctor tried to speak over her still. "It's some ancient and dark magic, but it's very real. We have an inspector on the way to take your statement, and we performed a few tests -"
"No. No, this is a bad dream, this isn't real, this isn't happening to me!" Emma closed her eyes, trying to focus.
" - most concerning of which is the results on paternity, which indicate that the father has non-human presenting DNA. Normally that's not terribly unusual, but this is clearly not a planned pregnancy considering your… your conception being, well, this, and the genomic markers show that the parentage is half Celestial. I need to ask, have you had any relationships with an Angel?"
Emma shook her head, trying to understand what the doctor was asking.
"Alright, what about anyone with proximity to dark, Arcane, or Demonic magics? Anyone who associates with Demons? Do you associate with them?" The doctor eyed her curiously, and Emma shook her head again.
"I don't know any Demons, Angels, or Celestials." Emma bit her lip, frustrated at the question. Rolling it between her teeth, she murmured a thought out loud. "I did recently perform a ritual that was older. It didn't call for this though, I don't know anything about this…"
"Well, it doesn't just happen." Emma looked at the doctor with enough venom in her stare to curdle milk. The doctor laughed nervously. "I mean, it did but -"
"This cannot be happening," Emma moaned, throwing her head back against the hospital bed's pillow. "This has to be a bad dream."
"I'm afraid it is all very real. Considering the circumstances, an inspector of magical law will be assigned to question you regarding the situation. Because of the issues of legality, you may not leave or have visitors until then." The doctor stood, brushing her hands on her slacks. "Baby looks healthy despite wanting to grow at an accelerated rate, and we have slowed that as much as we can. Welcome to motherhood Miss Swan, and, er… Congratulations." Giving a last placid smile, she left the room, leaving Emma alone.
Emma sat stunned, unable to do anything but focus on her steady breathing.
(Fuck)
The single word came to mind again and again, escaping from her lips as her breath finally began to turn into sobs.
"Fuck."
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Everything Burns - Chapter 15
Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC
Warnings: Fire, violence, implied violence.
Word count: 2081
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14
Chapter 15: Better Class of Criminal
By the time midday came around The Joker and Jester were ready and waiting. He had briefed her on his plan or rather as he called it, 'idea' of going to pay Harvey Dent a visit in hospital.
He had asked Scarlett to get him a nurses outfit so early that morning she had gone home to raid her closet finding one that was given to her by mistake and was far too large.
It was an odd turn her life had taken but she was rather enjoying it and she could no longer see her life any other way, the thoughts of going back to work filled her with dread, but the thought of a life without Jack was even worse.
She had agreed to go with him and a few of the 'boys' to the meeting with the mob that afternoon, to pick up the Joker's payment.
Jester prepared herself to leave as she pulled on her boots, the boys switched on the TV and something caught her ear. With one boot on and the other off she hurried over in an odd limp-y fashion and snatched the remote out of the goon's hand before turning the channel back to what it was just on.
On the TV was the usual news anchor for GCN and below him was the caption.
Later on GCN
REVEALED: BATMAN'S TRUE IDENTITY
In the upper left corner of the screen was a video link to another man.
"He's a credible source, an M&A lawyer from a leading consultancy. He says he's waited as long as he can for Batman to do the right thing. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. We'll be live, at 5, with the true identity of the Batman. Call in at 5 to have your say." Said the News anchor and Jester quickly pulled on her other boot before running to tell Joker.
"So he knows who the Bat really is and he's going to broadcast it on TV," clarified Joker, looking up at her from behind his desk, she simply nodded. He burst out into hysterical laughter and she was a little taken aback. She had expected him to be pleased but not this happy, but then this was Jack and he didn't do things by half measures.
"Well you said there was a number do you remember it?" he asked and she nodded he held out a pen and scrap of paper and she wrote down the number that had come up on screen.
"Well done Jester!" he said laughing again before he pocketed the number and stood pulling on his coat.
At 3 thanks to the Joker's police 'connections,' they were told about Maroni going to see Gordon. They knew he had ratted them out, having told Gordon where The Joker was going to be. The 'boys' were sent on a small errand after that to fill the basement of Gotham General with a large amount of ammonium nitrate. They had it rigged up within the hour but were not back in time for the meeting so The Joker and Jester were left with just four goons. The hospital explosion would be the distraction they needed to get the cops off their backs while they paid Harvey a visit.
She was surprised how quickly the Joker could get things done, and it was somewhat of an honour to witness him at work.
He caught her staring at him when he got off the phone with one of the goons and shot her a quizzical look.
"What?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.
"Nothing. It's just awe inspiring to watch your brain work. I mean less than an hour ago you were told about a police ambush and already you have a way out and a pretty spectacular one at that. I just forget sometimes that you are an absolute genius" she said and he chuckled.
"Come on, let's go check on our guest," he said, as he walked past her his hand ran along her side, it was some kind of a habit now.
After a night in the boot of a stolen cop car, Lau was surprisingly well, and Jester squeezed his cheek playfully when they opened the boot to make sure he wasn't dead, yet.
The meeting with the mob was on a container ship, the money was already there and waiting. At 4 they left for the meeting, knowing full well the police were planning their ambush.
They arrived at the docks just past 4 and The Joker jumped out the van before offering a hand to Jester which she gladly took. The goons followed behind with a bound and gagged Lau. The docks were empty apart from the enormous red coloured container ship. It was enormous and Jester looked around the ship curiously. There must have been thousands of shipping containers all stacked at least ten high. As a door to one creaked slightly, something snapped inside of Jester and she stopped in her tracks. She couldn't tell if she wanted to laugh or cry. Joker turned back to look at her, watching the turmoil going on inside her head. The sound of a chainsaw motor rumbled in her ears.
"Come on Jester," he said and she seemed to come back to herself, a twisted grin spreading across her face. She skipped over to him laughing slightly to herself.
He led them down into a large room within the container ship, in the middle of the room was a huge pile of money. It must have been at least half a storey high and spread out across much of the room.
"Put him on the top" the Joker said to the goons motioning to Lau, and they dragged him up quickly. Either Lau was stupid or very clever as he did not struggle as the Joker climbed up the pile behind the goons with a chair. He placed it on the top and the goons pulled Lau into it before the Joker dismissed them and left them to go look out for the Chechen.
He began to tie Lau, who was now dressed in a straight jacket to the seat.
"He's here" shouted the voice of the goon no less than a few minutes later and the Joker looked up from his place, before ducking back down to continue tying Lau to the chair securely.
Jester stood back to lean on the wall as she heard footsteps approaching. The Chechen was a skinny man with a shallow face and sharp features and he smiled disgustingly at Jester as he entered the room.
"Not so crazy as you look." said the Chechen loudly to the Joker who began to stand up on top of the pile.
"I told you, I'm a man of my word," said Joker standing up fully, on top of the pile of money before he patted Lau on the head sarcastically and jumped down the pile, sliding down most of it to come to a standing stop in front of one of the goons. He looked back at the money as piles of it slid down in his wake.
"Where's the Italian?" the Joker asked though he knew full well that Maroni would not be coming.
"I don't know, but he's not here so he doesn't get a share. We go 50/50" said Chechen in his broken English. The Joker shrugged at this before picking up wads of money and beginning to launch them up at the Lau hitting him in that face a few times.
"Please" Lau begged and Jester laughed loudly as yet another wad of money hit him.
"Joker-man, what you do with all your money?" asked the Chechen pointing to the pile with his lit cigar.
"You see, I'm a guy of simple taste," said the Joker turning to the Chechen.
"I enjoy... dynamite … and gunpowder... and gasoline," he said the last one much louder than the rest. The Joker took a step back, as a goon with a gas can came in and began to soak the bottom layer of cash in petrol.
"What the...?" exclaimed the Chechen rushing towards the goon angrily.
"Ah, dah, dah. dah." sung the Joker pointing his gun at the Chechen who stopped dead in his tracks.
"And you know the thing that they all have in common?" the Joker asked the Chechen approaching him again.
"They're cheap," he said with a slight growl in his voice. Jester glanced down at her phone, checking the time, it was just past 5, and she shot the Joker a meaningful look.
"You said you were a man of your word," said the Chechen , the cigar in his mouth causing him to slur.
"Oh, I am." said the Joker before he pulled the cigar from the Chechen's mouth. He held the cigar up blowing on the end a few times.
"I'm only burning my half," he said before he turned and threw the cigar at the petrol-soaked pile of money. It was engulfed in flames in seconds and Lau began to wiggle in his restraints. The Chechen face went grey and he looked at the burning cash in horror.
"All you care about is money." spat the Joker to him.
"This town deserves a better class of criminal... and I'm gonna give it to them." said the Joker, his face close to the Chechen's.
"Tell your men they work for me now." said the Joker poking the Chechen hard in the chest with his gun.
"This is my city," he said and the Chechen moved his face away.
"They won't work for a freak," the Chechen said.
"Freak." mimicked the Joker making fun of the Russian's accent.
"Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches? Hm?" the Joker said as he brought his knife out and waved it in front of the Chechen's face.
"And then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is." shouted the Joker, as a tow of the Chechen men came up behind the Chechen and held a blade to the Russians throat, before pulling him away.
"It's not about money, it's about sending a message." muttered the Joker to himself, before he pulled his phone out his pocket and began to dial.
"Everything burns" he cried loudly as Jester began to laugh.
"I had a vision" began the Joker into the phone, after a few moments Jester moved over to him and began to play with the buttons of his waistcoat.
"Of a world without Batman. The mob ground out a little profit and the police tried to shut them down one block at a time. And it was so boring! I've had a change of heart. I don't want Mr Reese spoiling everything but why should I have all the fun? Let's give someone else a chance. If Coleman Reese isn't dead in 60 minutes then I’ll blow up a hospital" said the Joker before he hung up and pushed his phone back into his pocket. He looked down at the raven haired clown still playing with the buttons of his waistcoat.
He reached out and pulled her chin up so she was looking at him before his arms moved to encircle her waist, he leant in and kissed her hard and she let out a squeal of delight. He bit hard on her bottom lip, drawing blood and she grinned at him.
"Come on gorgeous," he said, taking her hand in his and leading her away from the flaming pile of cash.
The Joker really was a man of his word as before they left the ship, he did indeed chop the Chechen up into little pieces and feed him to his beloved Rottweilers.
"Can we keep them?" Jester cooed as she knelt down and stroked one's head as it ate lumps of its old master.
"You want to?" The Joker asked as she began to scratch the dog behind the ear, causing its back leg to kick strangely.
"Yes, please, they're so cute and they are trained as attack dogs, they could be useful," she whined looking up at him with big eyes.
"Sure, put the dogs in the van," the Joker said, turning to his new men, who without question led the three enormous dogs away.
"Thank you," she said getting up and moving closer to him.
"Anything for you" he purred against her ear as he brought her close to him again.
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Thank you so much for reading, sorry it took me longer to post this chapter but things have been a bit mad at home recently. Hope you enjoying please, please like and reblog.
#heath ledger#heath ledger joker#heath ledger joker x OC#heath ledger joker smut#heath ledger joker X original character#heath ledger x femOC#ledger joker#joker x OC#ledger joker x OC#ledger joker smut#joker#joker x reader smut#joker smut#joker fluff#joker x reader fluff#heath ledger joker fanfic#Addicted to the joker#heath ledger joker fanfiction#ledger joker fanfic#heath ledger joker story#joker fanfiction#joker fanfic#the dark knight fanfic#the dark knight#the dark knight fanfiction#the dark knight joker#the dark knight joker x OC#the dark knight joker smut#the dark knight joker fluff#oc insert
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Saturday 1 August 1835
6 25
11 20
No kiss. At my desk at 7 25 at which hour F65° and fine morning - at George’s account and settled with Turner for stones and to come again tonight with estimate for stones for the tail goit - then breakfast at 8 50 - meant to have been off to Halifax to the District bank but Greenwood came convenient enough - I wanted to speak to him about sawyers etc but he came to speak about the letting Nelson have the Northgate house job - poor G- in a nervous agony about it - could scarce speak - damp cold pallor over his face - almost in tears - it was unfairly let - Helm’s the lower estate and it was to go to the lowest - Helm a very honest man - should have his Greenwoods buildings without estimate - it was not he (Helm) who said anything against me - no ! he said perhaps it was for the best - ‘I had been over-seen’ but I had told him I might have other building to do and I should not forget him - G- hoped I should excuse his coming to tell me - it was for my interest - ‘they’ (the town I suppose) might oppose me - might oppose my getting a licence - I had done wrong - I heard him very quietly then said what I had done could not be altered now - but I had done right according to my own judgment and conscience and if the town could act so unjustly as to oppose me, they might - if I could not get a licence I had immediately change my plan, and trouble myself very little about it - I wished Mr Harper to decide but he declined doing so, and I had therefore decided as I had told Brian Helm in a moment as every might and ought to do in a case like this where right principle was the only guide - I had taken the lower estimate - the case Mr Harper said was singular - yes! but I thought it clear - the price given for the old materials had nothing to do with the estimate of the work - I had a right to do as I liked about the materials - N-‘s estimate of the work was the lower by about £3.15.0 I believed and I had taken - when G- heard the price of the old materials he said he himself would have given £200 for them - if, said I, I had known that in time you should have had them - these were mine to do as I liked with - on hearing my explanation and seeing me so clam yet decided, G- began gradually to cool and said the thing was misrepresented - it only wanted explaining - I told him what I had said both to Nelson and Helm - adding that after the inquiry I had made, it certainly appeared to me that N- was the more experience person - BH owned he had never done any columns - à la longue - G-
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became reconciled and talked what he could do if he did set up the Inn - I mentioned his wife’s remark that they might as well put a stick into the house as herself and that G- had as many irons in the fire as he could cool - he said well! but he was master - yes! but said I, she must be mistress or it will not do -‘well! but she does not say so much to me’ - perhaps said I she might be fearful of speaking so plainly before you - however you must judge as well as you can - he said people asked if he would ruin Carr - no! he answered he would say all he could for him to me; but if he C- did not get it, it was another thing - well! said I, I will exonerate you on this point - you have already said enough to save your credit if you never say anymore - but I have not said C- shall have it - he has made no application to me - what have to expect from such a character? Remember the trick he played me about the manure - besides, his immorality is a disgrace - G- said yes! it was and he was very domineering and disagreeable - then inquired about the Hope coach - said I was going to London - bade G- take the 4 inside places and one outside for Monday morning to Sheffield if he could - ordered about hat-bore lined with coarse flannel to be sent home tonight - spoke about Charles H- G- said 2 1/2d. per yard in length would be enough for sawing up rails and settling them - the oaks-logs to remain where they are till my return and then go to Greenwoods to be cut up - G- thinks the Inn will pay me 7 ½ pc. in ten years - on going out found Wheatley the veterinary surgeon come to look at A-‘s pony - something of a splent and liquid blister should be applied - said I was satisfied to find him of my own opinion - George to call tonight for stuff and directions - W- agreed with me, it would be well to let the pony be from 8 to 9 am and from 6 to 7 pm in the paddock, and this would save the trouble of walking her above and would answer much better - then desired W- to examine the old mare – her jole already affected - thinks her not that bad enough to infect the other horses, but she ought to be kept apart - better to put her out of the way - then with my father and Marian - spoke about the mare - my father said nothing against it, but seemed hurt - perhaps it will be best to put the mare away and say no more about it - then had Mr Husband who brought the plans of the water wheel etc from Mr Harper - told Mr Husband merely to make me out an account of Charles H-‘s work done on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and in fact this week, and keep an account of what more he did during my absence - said I had spoke to him this morning he was now gone about wood and making a sluice for Spiggs loose a job which the coal agent would settle about - Reminded Mr Husband that he was in a situation where 100 eyes would be upon him, he must do the best he could and his best plan would be to consult no interest but that of his employer - if there was the least rent to be found, it would be torn from top to bottom - I was anxious for him to be cautious - I said this in consequence of what G- told me - in his agony, he said, he admired Helm who had acted quite independently and never gone near Husband who had said in his G-‘s presence 3 times, and he G- would swear to it and had once thought of telling Mr Harper last night that he (Mr H-) could put £500 into any mason’s pocket and G- thought that very strong and improper language - yes! said I and very wrong and imprudent - I shall not forget it - but if there is anything to be laid against him it must be proved and then he will be off at a tangent - well, said G-, but he shall be watched - I thanked G- said I should be much obliged to him to keep a sharp look-out, and only advised him to do it as quietly as possible - Perhaps G- had some interest in being for BH-? I shall ponder these things - I am more and more persuaded that the choice of N- was right G- said at last, he had no doubt, he could get a licence - no! no! the house will be licensed - I told G- if he meant to set it up, he had better say nothing and go and consult Gunter in London as to the manner of setting out tables etc G- having said he had seen as much of this sort of thing as Carr, and could buy in horses as well, but did not so well understand coaching - Having G- Wheatley and Husband for 3 or 4 minutes and writing the whole so far of today took me till 2 5 - then counting over the money to take to the bank A- in bad humour about something and copying old parchments again so I kept aloof A- off on her pony to Cliff hill at 3 - I wrote and sent John off immediately with note to ‘Messrs. Rawson, Bankers, Halifax’ enclosing to Mr R- fifty pounds in Bank of England ‘on account of the new museum, making the amount of her subscription paid on that account £150’ - a little while talking to Marian and then at 3 ½ off to Halifax down the old bank to the Yorkshire District bank - asked what they would charge upon remitting £100 to London - answer 5/. i.e. 1/4p.c. their usual mode of doing business - to those who have an account with them they give and take 4p.c. and charge ¼ p.c. on all on business done - all bills paid whether in London or elsewhere but that ¼ p.c. includes postage and everything - said I had found fault at another bank with the charge of ¼ p.c. on remittances to London - I would consider about it - walked off up the street round into Waterhouse street - doubted when opposite the Join stock whether to see what I could do with Mr Carr - then remembered Marian’s telling me her friend was one of the managers to whom all my concerns must be known - turned back to the Yorkshire District bank - asked to be shewn into their private room and opened an account with them leaving £1800 in Bank of England 20s.10.and 5s. and gave Mr. Rawson’s £5 for an order for £4.10.0 payable to ‘George Buckle Esquire’ (on a sheet of letter paper - in payment of his bill for the copies of wills for A- received this morning per parcel) - returned up the old bank by Whiskam road to where Robert S- and his man Joseph Sharpe were gas-tarring the railing that parts off the new field road - left orders for all the gas-tarring to be done and the railing between Carr and my father to be done over again (i.e. 2nd time) and then if any time to spare during my absence Park-farm wood the little seedling oaks to have the grass cut from around them for 4 or 5 inches breadth and hedges to be cleaned - passed Walker pit - nobody there- sometime in Conery wood - saw A- returned about 5 ¼ - Mark Town came to me in the approach road - I see he would be glad to take the purchase of the cottage himself and said if George N-‘s farm was to sell Mr Ackroyd’s manager Mr Ingham would advance him (Mark) money to pay for it with - told him to make up
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his mind to leave things as already agreed upon - I would take the cottage and do what he wanted he remembering his own proposal to pay me 1/. in the pound on all laid out - I wanted no better agreement - Had Charles H- also in the approach road - told him to saw up and set double railing round Mytholm dam, and to guard the trees in the Wheat field and in George R-‘s upper daisy bank, and enlarge 2 or 3 of the guards in Carr’s Shibden Land but 1st to get the Spiggs Loose shuttle done, and his work should be examined and reckoned upon on my return - told him to put up notice against hunters and trespassers in such places and as many as he thought would be best and enough, the printed notices being left with my aunt - paid Charles H- and Robert Schofield up tonight, and gave the latter £2 on a/c of walling done along the ft. of Bairstow - Dinner at 6 ½ - coffee - A- went upstairs I to my father and Marian for ¼ hour - said A- had a headache - It was bad humour did not like sometimes going from home with me and sometimes not very different from what she expected I could not at first guess what she meant on explanation after coming up from my father she did not like my not taking her to Richmond Park but leaving her to call on or rather spend the day with Mrs Plowes I explained affectionately and calmly she cried and said she knew I should think it nothing and only turn it against her as I had done two or three times before she thought the sooner we parted the better I said my greatest and first wish was her happiness if I could not make her happy I only hoped someone else might succeed better etc etc very kind and affectionate said were I in her place I should not like being taken as it were to be looked [at] I thought it bad taste but it should be as she liked ��oh no but she had expected very different something led to my recalling my expression about old Mrs Saltmarshe that perhaps it might be in her power to introduce Catherine Rawson then said A- you should not not have claimed powers you did not possess I reminded her of my saying I hoped to succeed but if I could not my failure would be better than many people’s success but if left to do my own way I did not despair - she by and by came round kissed me etc. I took all well but thinking to myself there is danger in the first mention the first thought that it is possible for us to part time will shew I shall try to be prepared for whatever may happen 25 minutes with my aunt till 10 20 - very fine day F69° at 10 20 pm
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Days of Prophecy
By Daymond Duck Published on: March 28, 2021
Jesus compared the end of the age to the days of Noah and the days of Lot.
So much Bible prophecy is being fulfilled, these days could also be called the days of prophecy.
Here are some recent events that caught my attention.
One, in early Mar. 2021, Israel announced plans to build the “Peace Railway” to connect Israel with the Gulf nations, China, the EU and others.
This could take a few years, but it is prophetically significant because China has already spent hundreds of billions of dollars building the “silk railroad” to the Middle East, and the Bible teaches that the Kings of the East (probably China and others) will invade the Middle East during the Tribulation Period.
Two, concerning peace in the Middle East: on Mar. 16, 2021, Israeli Prime Min. Netanyahu said there are 4 more normalization agreements (peace treaties) on the way.
Netanyahu did not name the 4 nations, but it is believed that 3 of them are Indonesia, Mauritania and Saudi Arabia.
If 4 more agreements are signed, that would up the “Abraham Accords” to 8 nations.
Israel is moving closer to the covenant with death (Isa. 28:14-15; Dan. 9:27).
Three, concerning the Battle of Gog and Magog: on Mar. 19, 2021, Middle East expert Joel Rosenberg said “the threat of war between Israel, Iran and Hezbollah is rising.”
He noted that three Israeli leaders took emergency trips to Europe and Russia to relay Israel’s concern that war is coming.
Israel’s Pres. Rivlin and IDF Chief of Staff Kochavi visited Germany, Austria and France.
Israel’s Foreign Minister Ashkenazi visited Russia.
Rivlin has also secured an invitation to visit the U.S. to address a joint session of Congress (the time of this depends on when Congress can meet because of Covid).
Four, also concerning the Battle of Gog and Magog: on Mar. 21, 2021, it was reported that there is a growing alliance between Russia, Iran and Turkey and a growing dislike by these three nations for the U.S.
Russia, Iran, and Turkey are working together to divide up Syria and gain more influence in the Middle East.
Five, concerning the U.S. being a blessing or a curse to Israel: on Mar. 18, 2021, it was reported that the Biden administration will reset America’s relationship with Israel in four areas: 1) The U.S. will re-establish diplomatic ties with the Palestinians; 2) The U.S. will return to the Two-State Solution (division of Israel); 3) The U.S. will oppose putting the “Made in Israel” label on products from the West Bank; and 4) The U.S. will return to giving the Palestinians millions of U.S. tax dollars each year.
Six, concerning world government: in a video that has reportedly gone viral on social media, a doctor from Ireland, Anne McCloskey, warned that “The Great Reset” is being pushed by globalist elite individuals and groups that want to drastically reduce the population of the earth.
McCloskey believes the Coronavirus crisis is a created event that people are using to establish a totalitarian world government.
McCloskey warned that these people are coming for you and everything you have, including all of your property, savings, and freedom.
It is important to understand that the Antichrist and False Prophet will use the economy (buying and selling) to control people and silence or eliminate those who disagree with their godless world government.
Seven, concerning the cashless society: it is being reported that one goal of “The Great Reset” is to completely transform the global money system into a cashless society.
Central Banks in several nations, including the U.S., are already discussing the creation of digital currencies that can be tracked.
These digital currencies will eventually make paper money worthless.
People will not be allowed to buy and sell without them.
For your information, the Republican Gazette recently reported that the cryptocurrency market has passed one trillion dollars in value.
This is fact, not a conspiracy theory that could be several years in the future.
Something like this could be a precursor to the Mark of the Beast.
Eight, concerning the coming economic collapse:
On Mar. 17, 2021, it was reported that Biden has asked Congress to reform the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act of 2017, so he can raise corporate taxes to cover some of his spending, and the Tax Foundation has estimated that it will destroy 159,000 jobs (be aware that this is at a time when many businesses are locked down and facing bankruptcy).
On Mar. 17, 2021, it was reported that Biden signed an executive order on the day he was inaugurated that canceled the sale of oil and gas leases on 80 million acres of land in the Gulf of Mexico, and the Louisiana Oil and Gas Association estimates that will endanger an industry that employs about 250,000 people (experts are warning that everyone’s utility bills will skyrocket).
On Mar. 22, 2021, it was reported that Biden regularly consults with former Pres. Obama on a number of issues (recall that Obama promised to transform America, spied on Trump, his people were involved in the Russian Collusion Hoax, etc.).
On Mar. 22, 2021, it was reported that Biden plans to spend more than $100 million on bus and airline tickets, hotel rooms, detention facilities, Covid treatment, etc., for illegal immigrants.
On Mar. 23, 2021, it was reported that Biden is preparing a $3 trillion stimulus package to deal with Climate Change, rebuild America’s infrastructure, etc. (Know that many U.S. citizens didn’t receive a stimulus check from the last stimulus package.)
Nine, concerning mandatory vaccinations and tracking people, on Mar. 17, 2021, the Israeli Knesset approved a bill to require certain people to wear an electronic bracelet that will monitor whether they are obeying Israel’s quarantine laws or not.
These bracelets, called “Freedom Bracelets,” won’t track a person’s movements, but if that person leaves the area that they have been quarantined to, the authorities will be notified.
Officials are using Covid as an excuse to race toward many kinds of tracking systems to locate and keep up with the movement of people.
Ten, concerning the Coronavirus, the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) recently reported that 85.01 million doses of vaccine were given in the U.S. between Dec. 14, 2020, and Mar. 5, 2021.
1,524 people died in the first 48 hours, there were 31,079 adverse incidents (5,507 serious), and 85 reports of miscarriage or premature birth.
The short-term risk of death or serious affliction is small, but it is there, and there has not been enough time to determine unknown long-term risks.
In addition to the above, on Mar. 16, 2021, the Office of Attending Physicians reported that only 75% of the members in the U.S. House of Representatives have been vaccinated.
Even though 25% have not been vaccinated, all House members are allowed to use the House gym showers, locker room and swimming pool.
So, why are gyms, etc., locked down in several cities and states when House members are using the House gym, etc.?
Eleven, I want to share an e-mail from a reader that doesn’t want to be vaccinated.
Much of it is over my head, but it is well-stated and, in my opinion, very important.
Knowingly putting the name of Lucifer into your body is literally identifying yourself with him (The enzyme that activates the quantum dots in Gates’ vaccine is called Luciferase. Lucifer was Satan’s name when he fell; Isa. 14:12).
Knowingly taking aborted human fetal tissue into your body is not much different than cannibalism (When you can’t eat by mouth, you get nourishment through an IV into your body, so what’s the real difference?).
Satan is behind this whole thing, because it is unnatural for a person to want to exterminate their own species; even animals have respect for their own kind!
He (Satan) started his attack on the human genome (DNA) in Genesis 6, and nearly accomplished his agenda, BUT GOD intervened and protected the human race through Noah and his family because they were the only people on earth who had clean genetics (the pure human genome).
Jesus came as a human with a pure, uncorrupted human double helix of DNA; therefore, His sacrifice was done as a human and is for human beings only, not for animals, or synthetics, or ‘transhumans’ because none of them are ‘in the image of God.’
This current vaccine will begin the process of altering the human genome, but it does not splice into the double helix and completely change the DNA; however, the ‘mark of the beast’ (the Quantum Dot Tattoo) will totally corrupt the human genome, splicing itself into the double helix, so that the person who takes it will no longer be ‘in the image of God’ but will be ‘in the image of Lucifer’ with an alien form of DNA, one that was not created by God but is an abomination just like the Nephilim.
I never thought I would see Hosea 4:6 so clearly as I do today: “My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge: because thou hast rejected knowledge, I will also reject thee, that thou shalt be no priest to me: seeing thou hast forgotten the law of thy God, I will also forget thy children.” I wonder if the believers who take it will pay a price in eternity? If they are born again, they cannot lose their salvation, but God says they will not be ‘priests,’ and He will ‘forget their children,’ so does this mean that they will lose rewards? I think so! It’s up to each of us to be responsible for our actions, as God says in Romans 1:20 that ‘they are without excuse.’
Twelve, here is another interesting e-mail from a reader in MO.
No one is date-setting, but this is amazing, if true, and I pray that it will brighten your day.
The reader’s pastor asked his congregation at their Wednesday night Bible study to open their Bible to the last two verses in the Bible (Rev. 22:20-21).
The verses are 20 and 21 (as in the year 2021), and they read, “He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.”
Some would love for Jesus to come quickly for His Church in 2021.
Finally, if you want to go to heaven, you must be born again (John 3:3). God loves you, and if you have not done so, sincerely admit that you are a sinner; believe that Jesus is the virgin-born, sinless Son of God who died for the sins of the world, was buried, and raised from the dead; ask Him to forgive your sins, cleanse you, come into your heart and be your Saviour; then tell someone that you have done this.
#guns#news#executive#order#biden#coming#for#the#guns&ammo#losing our#freedoms with a stroke of a pen#satanic sneakers with human blood in them from#lil nas x#nike teams up with#satanic#rapper#666#shoe#can't make this up#Evil rising!
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HOW TO BUY A HOUSE - IN 3 EASY STEPS
There is a lot of confusion out there about how to become a Homeowner so I thought I would take a moment and put it into Average Joe speak. That, and in my experience, some people go about it totally backwards which is counter productive to the end goal.
STEP 1. - ASSESS YOUR FINANCES
This is fairly simple. Eliminate non-essentials from your spending budget and stick it in the piggy bank. Modify spending habits to generate savings. Make short-term lifestyle changes.
It's just temporary and if canceling monthly memberships (Netflix, Gyms, Any Subscriptions), adjusting your shopping habits [I got some great tips for this], or eliminating other non-essential spending allows you to keep more money in your pocket to get a home versus flushing rent dollars down the proverbial toilet? Bit of a no-brainer if you ask me.
Bottom line is you have to have money ready-to-hand for the transaction. Even with the "zero down" options like VA and some USDA loans; just to name a couple.
There are inspections, appraisals, escrow funds, repairs, home warranty policies, property taxes, closing costs, and other such considerations that must be paid in order to get a home of your own.
"Do Not Save What Is Left After Spending; Instead Spend What is Left After Saving" - Warren Buffett
Figure out what kind of a down payment your financial situation will allow for. The more, the better, but very few people I know got 20% of the purchase price [a.k.a. - conventional/bank loan] sitting around collecting dust. Good news is you don't necessarily have to have that much.
One of the most common loans is a FHA that only asks for 3-5% down AND there are down payment assistance programs out there if you are really Stuck Like Chuck when it comes to finances. NOTE: This does NOT mean they are going to give you ALL of your down payment; you gotta have some chips in that poker game too.
I like to recommend that people shoot for at least 6-8% of the purchase price of the "kind of home they want" just to make sure all the bases are covered - down payment AND cost(s) of the transaction. Folks, that's a lesser down payment than Owner Finance options for the same "kind of home" as Owners generally ask for 10-15% down.
This total can be a combination of self-savings, down payment assistance, assets that can be used as collateral against the loan, monetary or tangible gifts from friends/family members in some few cases, and more.
Each person is unique and different in how that 6-8% manifests and lenders can vary in what form(s) of down payment they will accept.
EXAMPLE:
Purchase Price: $150k
FHA Down Pymt (3-5%): $4,500 - $7,500
Other Cost(s): (3% +/-): $4,500
Total Savings Needed: $9,000 - $12,000
Kill some bills, sell your "junk" - we all got crap laying around the house we don't use worth money in various amounts - and modify spending habits in a positive manner.
If you are a two car family... can you get by with just one vehicle on a temporary basis [turn that car, and its bills, "into" a house]? Perhaps you have a skill set or piece of equipment that can earn you extra cash here and there on your terms? What changes to your lifestyle can you make that will put another dime or dollar into that kitty bucket?
Finally, do whatever it is you need to do to put those greenbacks into a savings method you can stick with. Whether that is a traditional banking institution or an old shoe box under the bed; you do you. If this means you have to ask someone in a position of trust to hold it so you don't spend it? Guess what you should consider doing?
STEP 2. - TALK TO LENDERS
Let's talk about the "When" of contacting a lender. The only true answer to "When" is... When You Are Ready and only you know how Ready you feel.
I've had clients express the sheer dread they felt about reaching out to a lender and it's an understandable fear. One of my people even said that they felt applying to lenders and having them see their credit condition was akin to stripping naked in front of a total stranger.
But, and as I told my client... think of it like going to the doctor for a full physical exam. Hospital gown over your birthday suit and all. Lenders are professionals there to do a job. They do NOT judge or speculate just because they have intimate knowledge of or about you.
If you suspect you may have some homework to do, credit wise, then it's better to contact a lender sooner rather than later. This allows you to get a game plan together and knock out credit related targets while you are saving funds for your down payment goal. Once completed, you are able to resume your application with confidence moving forward.
"Everything You Want Is On The Other Side of Fear" - Jack Canefield
However, if you are one of the few who feel their credit profile will be a "non-issue" then my suggestion becomes waiting to speak to lenders until you have most, if not all, of your down payment goal met.
When applying to a lender always ask if they perform a Soft or Hard inquiry against your credit report. Most of the lenders I know [and I will list two of my favorites for you here in a second] will execute a Soft Credit Inquiry to determine credit worthiness. This Soft Inquiry does not impact or affect your credit score - should such be a matter of concern to you.
Something else I've noticed is that people don't seem to understand shopping for lender is very much like shopping for an automobile. The overall requirements of any one particular lender (or dealership) can be totally different from a fellow lender's (or dealership's).
Just because one says "No" does not mean they will all will say "No". And even if the first lender tells you "Yes"... I would still encourage you to apply to more than one who does Soft Inquiries. Compare apples to oranges to find the best fit for your home purchasing needs by reviewing interest rates, terms of repayment, mutual rights and remedies, and so on and so forth.
Only after you have secured lender approval (which may be conditional based on various factors) and they have given you the green light to shop up to the amount of $X.00 do you move on to Step 3.
STEP 3 - FIND YOUR REALTOR
The vast majority of the population feels the path to homeownership is "finding the home and then buying it" - through a Real Estate agent. This is NOT the case.
Selecting an agent to help navigate you through the complexities of The Offer and Purchase process is the absolute LAST step to be taken.
What Happens When You Do It Backwards:
You shop for, and find, that PERFECT place and then reach out to an an agent or contact the website that is listing that property. The agent involved determines you haven't spoken with a lender and may now recommend one to get the process started.
Just to let you know... most of us agents are unable to do much of anything at this point without your having secured a lender first. There are some agents out there who are also qualified mortgage consultants but I, personally, haven't met one yet so I don't know how they work.
At this point the agent may also put you on an e-mailer list that scouts the MLS's and regularly sends you properties "matching" the ideal home that you originally asked about.
Why?
Because "that home may not still be there when you are in a position to buy". That's agent speak for... this is gonna take a bit of second and that property will most likely have sold by the time we get you lender approved.
I can't emphasize enough the fact that we agents don't "GET" you that house - the lender does that by providing the loan to pay for it. Us agents help you shop for a home and protect your best interests when buying it.
We deal with the butt-ton of technical paperwork coming/going from every which-a-way at all hours of the day, manage the contract negotiations, handle scheduling and execution of services by professional providers involved in the transaction, are your personal defacto counselor/moral support during the stress mess of buying, and more. None of which can be done until a lender gives us the green light to begin.
Well, most folks aren't mentally or emotionally prepared to reach out to said lender on the fly like this. Fears of "what that lender will see" or personal misgivings about "not qualifying" due to credit condition can halt the whole process at this point. Perhaps leaving you with negative emotions about the whole experience thus far.
But, for the sake of argument let's say you muster up the courage to reach out to a lender anyway. You'll discover that they are people too - most with a generous heart and helpful personality.
You might even discover that your credit was nowhere near as bad as you had built it up in your mind to be. Or, the lender may come back with a little homework for you. Take care of This and That and we'll be able to get you into a home.
The "whammy" of doing it in reverse order like this is that the lender will also share that you will need X thousands of dollars as a down payment to make that happen. Talk about a case of sticker shock!
Obviously, this can be discouraging and disheartening. To overcome one obstacle only run smack dab into another you weren't prepared to tackle? It may start to feel like you are looking up the side of a mountain, the goal of owning a home clearly in your line of sight, but you lack the climbing equipment (not to mention the funds to acquire such) to reach the summit.
It may feel like "that's it, game over" at this point. I know because I, too, approached home ownership azz-backwards like this before I became a Realtor. Felt like someone had ripped a bit of my soul away and left me frustrated and crying inside my heart and mind.
DON'T give up on yourself or your dream of home ownership. Back up, regroup, and attack that goal again. This time, in the correct sequence of events.
"You May Have To Fight A Battle More Than Once To Win It" - Margaret Thatcher
Do this and I promise you that there will be no better feeling in the world than those you experience at the closing table when you are finally handed the keys to your very own home.
Disclaimer: Opinion Editorial for educational and/or informational purposes. Content presented is deemed accurate and/or reliable at the time of authorship. Any errors or omissions present in material(s) are unintentional. You are encouraged to execute your own research.
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