#like we have this river that runs through city centre so we have a few boat cafes/restaurants and they all had pride flags up🥺🥺

[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Doctor

@jegulus-microfic July 2, Word count 1000

Regulus had always dreamed about being a doctor. His parents had mostly approved. They would have preferred he’d chosen to be a solicitor or an accountant, but they decided that doctor was also a respectable profession as long as he went into the correct area. Such as plastics, where all the money was. They had a friend who ran the plastics department at St Thomas’s in London and they arranged for him to train under him once Regulus finished medical school. 

But Regulus had other plans. He secretly sent out feelers to other hospitals and got offered a job in York. It was the one that he’d secretly hoped for. Sirius had moved up to York after he’d fled their family home. He’d gone to university there and fallen in love with the kindest man Regulus had ever met. Of course, his parents didn’t know that he knew any of this. 

He’d had all his correspondence sent to Sirius’s house and he’d go out on daily walks to phone his brother on a separate phone Sirius had sent him and paid for so they could talk without their parents finding out. 

Graduation day came. He was top of his class and a highly sought-after new doctor. He had his picture taken, said goodbye to his classmates and made a run for it. He left his parents complaining about the pitiful excuse for food that had been laid out for them and ran to Sirius’s waiting car. 

“Hey, Reggie!” Sirius’s smile was full of love and Regulus couldn’t help himself. He flung himself across the gear stick and hugged his brother as tightly as he could. “I’ve missed you too,” Sirius spoke quietly into his ear. 

They rushed back to his parent’s house and hurriedly carted the few boxes of his belongings down the three flights of stairs and out to Sirius’s car. Soon they were on the M1 and on their way north. 

He hadn’t just left his parents with no idea where he’d gone. He’d told them he had found another job and was sorry he left like he did, but he had no interest in learning how to pull back wrinkly old skin, so people could kid themselves that they looked younger than they were. He thanked them for everything they’d done for him and hoped that they would still want him in their lives. 

Remus was waiting for them at the front door. He flung his arms open and gave Regulus a firm, warm hug. 

“I’m so glad you made it, Reggie,” He said as he ruffled Regulus’s hair. They’d become good friends over the years since he and Sirius had met, even before they’d started dating. Sirius would drunk dial him and Regulus would spend most of the night chatting with Remus while Sirius did keg stands and made a show of himself. 

“Can we take you on a tour tomorrow? You can get to know the city before you start your first shift.” Sirius asked over dinner. Sirius had braved the locals to go to the chippy round the corner. It was excellent, the best fish and chips he’d ever had. 

Regulus went to sleep that night, finally feeling free for the first time in his life. He took Sirius up on his offer to see the small city. They ate breakfast and hopped on a bus into the city centre. Sirius took him to see the giant cathedral towering over the other buildings. Then through the Shambles, an ancient medieval street. The narrow street was jam-packed with shops and shoppers. The top levels of the buildings overhanging the street below. They took a walk along the bar walls that wrapped around the entire city, protecting it from enemy armies. Sirius took him on a river cruise down the Ouse and then into the Dungeons to learn about Dick Turpin. 

“Stand and deliver, your money or your life!” Sirius had yelled at him as he jabbed him in the back with a fake sword he’d gotten from the gift shop. 

“Turpin would have used pistols, not a sword,” Regulus pointed out. Sirius shrugged and poked him again. They walked down by the river to get home. His feet hurt but it had been worth it. The city was beautiful and he’d spent more time with his brother than he had for years. Tomorrow he’d start at the hospital and he needed to be wide awake to be on his game. 

Sirius dropped him off at the door, kissed his cheek and handed him a packed lunch. 

“Look at our boy Remus, all grown up and off to be a doctor.” Sirius pretended to wipe a tear from his eyes. 

“There, there dear. He’s a big boy now, we have to let him go,” Remus made his voice deep but struggled by the end, as he couldn’t help laughing. 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. C'ya later.” He blew them a kiss anyway and walked through the doors. 

The resident in charge of them was the most handsome man Regulus had ever seen. He had to take a few deep breaths to calm his speeding heart. He felt suddenly very warm and could feel himself beginning to sweat. 

“Dr Black?” Dr James Potter looked up from his list. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Sirius Black would you?” 

“Yes, he’s my brother, Dr Potter,” Regulus replied in as even a voice as he could. 

“He’s one of my best friends, I’ll be sure to let him know how you’re getting on,” Dr Potter winked at him. Regulus felt lightheaded. Oh, great, now he not only fancied his mentor but the guy just happened to be Sirius’s friend. He should have known better than to move in with his brother. Well, he was going to prove he deserved to be here. 

Dr Potter looked at him, his eyes glimmering with something.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” James grinned widely before they began the morning rounds. 

[allovertheworldblog]

The bus to Haparanda leaves early

So, I was up at the top of Sweden and had to decide where to go next, west to Norway or east to Finland.

In the end I decided on neither and went back down through Sweden.

When I was leaving Kiruna though it looked like I was going to Finland, that was the plan anyway. 

I decided on going to Haparanda (what a great name) which is on the border with Finland.

Only trouble was the bus leaves, the only bus to Haparanda, leaves at 07.10.

I get to the bus station 20 minutes before the bus leaves.

I’m the only passenger that does the full trip.

We have three different drivers over the 6 hour trip through snow filled Sweden.

The only reindeer we see over the course of the trip are in a sort of farm.

We get to Haparanda after 13.00 and I walk to the hostel through the ice and slush covered paths.

The city has a strange feel to it, a sort of half a city feel to it.

And in a way it is. 

Next door in Finland is Tornio, the original settlement in the area. Then when Sweden lost Finland to Russia they needed a base for trade in that region, on their land as it were, so they built up Haparanda.  

Today there’s no border control as Sweden and Finland are both members of the European Union.

The two cities have banded together and created a joint city in effect, a Eurocity.

The hostel has a sign up saying that the reception is only open from 16.00 to 19.00, I knew about this in advance but turn up anyway.

I ring the ‘out of hours’ number on their sign.

A lady opens the door and asks if it was me that was ringing, she’s not happy for whatever reason.

I ask if they’re open.

She agrees to 'sort of open’.

She checks me in and again with the sheets.

She wants to charge me 50 Swedish Krona for sheet 'rental’. That's Euro5.60 or $7.40.

I have my own sheets but thanks anyway.

She has a certificate for helpfulness on the wall behind her, NOT!

I put my stuff away and walk to the nearby IKEA, their most northerly store in the world.

I have a not very pleasant meal composed of some kind of meat.

It’s mostly Finns that are shopping there, they pay in Euro at the food counter.

The Finnish language sounds strange after hearing nothing but Swedish for the past week and a half.

My Swedish is non-existent but I’d become used to hearing it and used to the Swedish way of things, their bread, their ubiquitous cinnamon buns, kanelbulle.

They even go as far as to dedicate a day a year to their buns, 04 October is Kanelbullens dag or Cinnamon bun day. http://scandinavianfood.about.com/od/coffeecakessweetbreads/r/cinnamonrolls.htm

The Finns suddenly looked quite different from the Swedes, not as stylish, more brusque. 

The shopping centre is quite new but about a third of the units haven’t opened.

There are a couple of fast food restaurants and few cheap clothes and a few over priced ones, a couple of mobile phone shops and that’s about it.

If this was Sweden there’d be people around every corner in little cafés drinking coffee and every third shop would be a flower shop. 

The prices in the Finnish supermarket, on the Finnish side of the river, made me wonder about how travelling in Finland would compare to Sweden.

Sweden is considered to be one of the more expensive countries in Europe but from what I could see Finland was giving them a fair run for their money and in many cases coming in ahead of them.

The next morning I walk to the Finnish side of the river and search out the bus station.

It’s a Saturday morning so the bus station is closed, don’t bus stations the world over close on Saturdays?

The signs in Finnish that different bus companies have up in the window of the station do mention a Saturday service.

I’m annoyed and frustrated though, so I don’t give it time to work on my Finnish to figure out which column is Saturday and to figure out if the right destination I want is served by the individual companies.

So I decide I won’t be going to Rovaniemi after all.

Two Australian girls in the hostel in Kiruna had recommended the place for seeing the Northern Lights and for visiting Santa Claus in the year round Santa World close by.

I walk back across to Sweden and find that their bus station too is closed but they have a waiting room open and their electronic signs list all departures and arrivals for that day.

I felt relieved to be back where I know the set up.

Umea, half way down Sweden, is where I’m headed.

It might even be possible to catch a ferry across the Gulf of Bothnia from near there to Finland.

During the trip from Haparanda to Umea there’s enough time to watch a couple of movies.

Only trouble is they’re the same movies.

The attendant on the bus mustn’t have a very big movie collection as we’re shown 'One Day’, which we just catch the end of, then 'I Don’t Know How She Does It’ with Sarah Jessica Parker.

Then 'One Day’ again, then the Sarah Jessica Parker movie again.

Umea looks interesting and I might spend a couple of nights there. Of course it wasn’t to be.

In Umea I walk to the hostel. It's just before 20.00 at this stage.

A guest who's smoking outside lets me in.

The locked reception has a sign on it:

     'Good Morning guests…. the reception will be open from 06.00 to 07.00.  The Emergency Out of Hours number is …… (it cannot be used for making reservations).

Tomorrow reception will be open from 19.00-20.00’.

I walk back to the bus station, get some food and wait for the night bus to Stockholm. The bus gets me to Stockholm at 05.30.

I hang around the bus station for a couple of hours.

I go back to the hostel that I’d left a week previously before I went to the north of the country, it’s like coming home.

[practical-conservation-leeds]

First post and introduction!

So this is me just trying out a few thing in order to get things started on the old blogging front. I thought I would see what different kinds of posts look like before I decide whether to use this platform or an alternative.

This is going to be a place for me to post about my ongoing volunteer officer training at TCV Skelton Grange. For anyone that doesn't know, The Conservation Volunteers were founded in 1959 with the aim of harnessing the enthhusiasm of amateur conservationists to care for nature and the environment within their local communities. With the recent focus on social prescribing within mental health services, it has also become part of their remit to run groups supporting vulnerable or isolated people with their wellbeing.

I have been involved with TCV a few times in the past, including attending a Conservation Holiday in 2006 where the task was to re-surface a public footpath with gravel and reinforce the steps. I am unsure of the location but we stayed in a youth hostel and the volunteer leader came to work in a very NSFW t-shirt which he had borrowed from his son and not looked at before he put it on - LOL. Back then they were called British Trust for Conservation Volunteers and I may have been given a t-shirt as a thank-you for attending (not the obscene one that the instructor wore though).

Then a few years later I started volunteering at TCV Hollybush (based in Kirkstall) but that was in the administration office and not really involved in hands-on conservation. As a student in Leeds I had also volunteered with Hyde Park Source which again had an environmental angle, but was more about transforming bin yards in inner city Leeds (still a worthy and rewarding exercise).

It was only as a 40-something and after having taken time off work following a serious health incident that I made my mind up once and for all that conservation is the direction that I wanted my career to move in. But more on that later...

Here is a photo of my first visit to Skelton Grange:

The location itself is an odd one and quite hard to find if you are unfamiliar with that part of Leeds (which I am). You need to go up Pontefract Road and then navigate your way through a series of industrial estates in order to find it. The environment centre itself is nestled between a National Grid substation, a Yorkshire Water sewage treatment plant, and the site of a new 'combined heat and power' plant which is still under construction - e.g. not in the least bit peaceful or relaxing! On the other side you have the River Aire, and the canal (part of the Aire and Calder Navigation) which is slightly more tranquil.

This photo is of a more recent visit - you can see the new power plant in the far distance on the right:

[indiator]

Experience the Real Varanasi with Walking Tours – Indiator

Of the many cultures, traditions, rituals, and belief systems found in India, Varanasi, also known as Kashi Vishwanath ki Nagri, is one of the cities with lovely and lively markets.The oldest city in India, which has been ruled by kings and Mughals, is also a gathering place for many saints and sages and is equipped for both a traditional religious past and a contemporary future.

India’s Most Historic City!

The city is not only the oldest in India but also one of the few places on earth where people have lived continuously. The muslin and silk textiles, perfumes, artefacts, and ivory products produced in this ancient city are also well-known. Numerous religious, educational, and artistic endeavours are centred in this city. The city is surrounded by rivers and Ghats, as well as a wide variety of shrines, temples, and stunning palaces, making it a must-see for any traveller. So, book a Guided tour of Varanasi with Indiator and explore this magical city.

Things to do in Varanasi

Among the other temples in the city, Varanasi's Vishvanatha Temple, the well-known Shiva Temple, is the one that is most revered. Another revered temple in this city is the Sankatmochan Temple, which is devoted to Lord Hanuman. Another Maa Durga temple is well-known for the large number of monkeys that live in the trees close to it. The Tulasi Manas and Vishvanatha in Banaras Hindu University, as well as the temples constructed by the Maha Bodhi Society by Chinese, Burmese, and Tibetan Buddhists, make the city the cultural centre of India.

Kashi is a centre for Hindu education and home to many saints who are running numerous schools to preserve traditional education.

Varanasi is renowned as the centre of the silk market and is also well known for its handcrafted goods. Here, you can find a wide selection of fabrics with amazing gold and silver thread embroidery. Particularly the Banarasi saree, which has its own patents, is well known throughout all of India. In addition to this, the city is famous for and has patents for wooden toys, brassware, ivory work, and glass and brass bangles. By booking our Varanasi holiday package, you can walk along the famous streets and shops which are lying there since ancient times.

Varanasi's Most Well-Known Ritual

Ganga Aarti is the world-famous aarti of the Ganga River and a location known as the epicentre of supreme Divinity. The majority of city visitors and saints attend this well-known aarti. This occurs at one of the city's ghats. In the entire city, there are about 88 ghats, and the majority of them are well-liked for bathing and puja rituals, which are only performed during cremation rites. Every ghat has a unique mythology and history. One of the most well-liked attractions for all visitors is taking a boat ride in the Ganga river.

Wish to Travel to Varanasi?

According to Google, many tourists from around the world are drawn to this location and are curious about its history, so they frequently visit this city. The world is now accessible with just a click thanks to the internet, but what if you want to learn everything there is to know about a city?

What are the best places to visit, what foods to eat, and other details that set a city apart from others and make a trip there worthwhile?

Only a trip to this well-known ancient city and a thorough walking tour of the area could accomplish this.

In order to impart local knowledge to tourists from around the world, Indiator has planned Varanasi city tour packages for you given the limited resources and time as we want our visitors to explore the city in new ways and carry pleasant memories with them.

Our main goal is to constantly improve the service so that it becomes unforgettable. So, for a unique experience, stroll through Varanasi's streets, taking in the ghats and the rivers. Through our unique Varanasi Sarnath Tour Package and Varanasi Street Food Tour, discover the origins of life and death through the ancient tales of saints and sages. Let's go back in time once more.

[tiredspacedragon]

I have some ideas about this, so I thought I'd break them down by type for organization

Normal - Absolutely anywhere. Normal-types are adaptable enough to carve out a niche in basically any environment. They'll likely be all over the city.

Fire - Industrial areas. Any part of the city with an industrial or production focus will likely sport a lot of Fire-types. They'd also likely be sprinkled throughout the city in other places like Fire-types are in other games. They kind of just go wherever, but have greater concentration in hot places. Burned buildings could also be home to Fire-types.

Water - Canals and sewers. We've already seen waterways in the trailer and the original version of Lumiose. Paris has rivers running through it as well, so those could be added into the game as well. And if we get the chance to enter the city's sewer system, there will definitely be tons of Water-types in there.

Grass - Parks. Some Grass-types will certainly turn up throughout the city, near the rows of trees or just hanging out, but they'll probably be mostly in parks. You can see at least one in the map already.

Electric - All over the place. Lumiose will be infested with Electric-types, most likely, since power will be running throughout the whole city. Plus if we actually get to enter the Lumiose Power Plant this time, there will be scores of them in there too.

Ice - Cold storage and sewers. Ice-types will probably be as rare as always. They might pull a Driftveil and give them their own area, or I could see them being squeezed into the sewers with the Water-types. Or lurking inside specific buildings.

Fighting - Construction sites, mainly. We already know construction workers favour Fighting-types for assistance on the job, so we'll probably find them in any parts of the city that are still under construction. Otherwise, Fighting is another one of those types that can turn up pretty much anywhere. Streets, parks, alleys, wherever.

Poison - Alleyways. Poison-types will probably be all over a big urban city, but likely tucked out of sight. Lurking in back alleys, hiding in basements, or like Fire-types in the more industrial parts of the city.

Ground - Parks and catacombs. Ground will be one of the rougher types to fit into the city, I imagine. With everything paved over, they'll probably be found mostly in parks where the ground is accessible, or beneath the streets in tunnels. Paris' catacombs seem like a shoe-in for this game.

Flying - Rooftops. Flying-types can get anywhere, but we'll probably mostly find them on top of buildings or flying near them. If the Poké Ball mechanics are the same as in PLA, they won't even have to land for us to catch them.

Psychic - Basically anywhere people are, but particularly in the scientific centres of the city. They'll probably be mostly inside buildings, maybe laboratories and schools in particular.

Bug - Wherever they want. They're bugs, they'll get everywhere whether people wanted them to or not. The biggest concentrations will probably be in parks like the Grass-types, but they'd be in basements and on the sides of buildings and in trash heaps and everywhere else.

Rock - Historic sites. Rock-types will probably be in the same boat as Ground, mostly appearing in the more natural parts of the city or beneath it, but they may also be common in older parts of the city that are still entirely made of stone. If any part of Lumiose still has cobblestone roads, Rock-types will probably be there.

Ghost - Abandoned buildings. Empty houses or buildings left to rot would be perfect habitats for Ghost-types. Parts of the city slated for redevelopment that haven't been reached yet, or that are being quietly overlooked. And if there are Lumiose catacombs, they'll definitely be down there too.

Dragon - Waterways, at least. We see a Dragonair in the water in the trailer, but honestly this one does stump me. I can see there only being a few Dragon-types in this game. If anything was going to avoid a big populous city, it would be them. We might be limited to Dragonair in the water, Noibat infesting peoples' attics, and a handful of others as gift Pokémon or in other areas based on their other types.

Dark - Alleyways again. Basically the same places as Poison-types. Anywhere shady would do. Back alleys and basements, yeah, but also maybe in the poorer parts of town, like how Spikemuth was the poorest, most run-down part of Galar.

Steel - Everywhere. Like with Electric-types, a city in the midst of urban redevelopment will be crawling with Steel-types. I could see them being most common around construction areas, though, just like the Fighting-types.

Fairy - Around people. There will likely be some Fairy-types in the parks, but I expect most of the Fairy-types we see will be the domesticated sorts, like Swirlix and Spritzee. They'll be seen mostly in residential areas, or perhaps the fashion and food centres of the city.

I still have a question about Pokemon ZA:

The tweet say the whole game is happening in lumiose city, but there isn't many biome or diversity inside ONE city.

Even if the IRL inspire for lumiose city is Paris which is a huge ass city, you cannot make alot of variety for pokemon type (you have like what: City, residential area, Ghetto, maybe parc?) Where are mah boi going to live ?

[truthundressing]

happy pride to my shithole of a hometown <3

[sashi-ya]

Hello! Love your work! Can I request a Shanks x fem!reader x Mihawk (like the 3 are in a long term poly relationship) NSFW fic for the prompt Spending the Night at the abandoned minka? Thank you, can’t wait to read the fics from this event!

Hi my darling! Of course! I hope you enjoy this little scenario of these two strong pirates and you :3 Thank u for requesting! 🌸💖

~ 🌸 Cherry Blossoms Over Wano Event 🌸 ~

Nsfw~ Mihawk x F! Reader x Shanks ~ Spending the Night at the Abandoned Minka

tw: MMF threesome. Shanks & Mihawk action (dk the name of the ship). Vag. Dp. Oral. Fingering. Creampie.

wc: 1.8K

Like this event? masterlist 🌸~

“Shanks, I told you to stop drinking. You aren’t able to even walk straight” “How do you expect me to walk straight… ain’t nothing straight in me” “Pfff, Shanks you fucking... hahaha” “Do not encourage him (Name), please”

Coming to Wano -undercover- has been one hell of a fun. Apparently, Shanks heard his son, I mean Luffy, was coming here to defeat Kaido. A Yonko. The strongest creature alive. So, of course, even if the red haired trusts in the gum gum boy, he is there just in case.

Mihawk had to leave Kuraigana too. First, because the Shichibukai system has completely fallen since the Reverie and second, his other son, the green haired guy that wields many katanas at once, will be fighting against Kaido with Luffy.

You, their girlfriend, couldn't stay alone and had to come with them.

Of course, Wano has one of the finest, most delicious sake and Shanks had to indulge in it so you head to the very centre of the city to have some. As the flower capital is working on the preparations for the Fire festival, and everybody seems busy, nobody has noticed that under those typical Wano straw hats the faces of a Yonko and a Shichibukai were hiding. But, since you are not willing to show your presence, the visits to the Hana no Miyako are fast and expeditious. And there you are, walking through the forest to find a good place to rest for the night.

“There, that minka should be good” Mihawk points at an abandoned cabin. Many of the little houses have been left or destroyed during the last 20 years due to Kaido’s guards' surprise attacking the families that lived there. They were searching for samurais and Kozuki retainers to completely erase them under Orochi’s orders.

You help Shanks to walk there, gaining a few touches everywhere your body -not that you mind-. Inside, as always, the minimalist style of minkas, a futon, an irori in the middle and not much more. It doesn’t smell strictly bad, but the humid scent of the wooden walls certainly floods the ambience.

“Is it safe?” you ask, as if being already in Wano during these times isn't dangerous. “What other option do we have, (Name)? this dork is absolutely wasted” Mihawk points out, looking at Shanks who is already over the futon laughing and mumbling who knows what. “You are right, babe” you sigh, and help Shanks to untie his kimono properly.

You notice how the red haired has his skin burning, and you wonder if it is because of the alcohol or something else, so you touch his forehead. The heating sensation on your palm announces he is indeed running a fever. “Shanks. Oi, baby” you tell him, inspecting him and his dumb smile. “Are you ok? Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling bad?”.

Mihawk crunches next to him, golden eyes that follow the fine countenance of his boyfriend and a serious gaze inspects him. “Have you eaten something from the river, dork?” he asks, brushing the sweaty red bangs off Shanks’ face. “Heh…” Shanks laugh and both the swordsman and you begin to scold him for having food from the contaminated river.

But suddenly, the red haired pushes you both and in a moment is out of the cabin. “Huh, I guess his system is intelligent enough not to keep that venom inside him for too long” Mihawk says, absolutely carefree and flops into the futon. Your worried countenance motivates the swordsman to pass his cold hands on your cheek to calm you down. “Just wait for him, he will come back feeling better in a minute. He is a damn yonko, you will see”

And just like Dracule said, Shanks is back in a couple of minutes feeling better and energized. Is there anything that could hold back this man?

Shanks attacks you and pushes you against the bed. “Were you that worried for me?” he jokes, crushing you against the mattress. “Stop eating contaminated shit, you dork” Mihawk tells him, only opening an eye to spy on how he is doing, with his arms under his head.

“I was hungry, you know? I’m not like you, blood sucking vampire” he jokes, pushing Mihawk to the side. “Oi, oiii” you scream, trying to gasp for air under the big pecs of your red haired boyfriend. “Sorry, mademoiselle” he says, rolling to the side laughing. And there you are, in between the best swordsman and probably the powerful pirate of the world. Both are yours, you are theirs, and frankly there hasn’t been a single night the three of you don’t indulge in the honeys of carnality and lust. And tonight, it wouldn’t be an exception.

As always Shanks is the first to start the session, he sits crossing his legs and snatches you from your waist to sit on top of him. You, gladly, comply. His hard member - already so hard - under your ass, you groping against it playfully. Mihawk licks his lips, because he knows what Shanks wants to start and gladly kneels in front of you.

The skilful hand of the red haired passes under your kimono and squeezes your breasts while the swordsman spreads your legs. He kisses you and then Shanks and lets the top part of his yukata fall off his shoulders.

“You two look so good wearing the typical Wano outfits” you mumble in between moans, as Shanks bites your neck. “Do you think so, (Name)? You actually do look like a geisha... and you know what we do to geishas?” he whispers on your neck and bites your earlobe. “Show me” you whine.

“It will be a pleasure, my dear Oiran”

The red haired arm is able to rip your kimono open, exposing your nudity. Both men are surprised you are not wearing any clothing underneath and you smirk when you see how they pant like famished creatures in front of a piece of meat.

Dracule uses his cold long fingers to play with your increasing arousal wetness, while Shanks pulls from your hair to make you look to the side and kiss, sloppily but sexily, your lips. A kiss that soon turns into a wet mess of dripping saliva and moaning in his mouth when Mihawk decides to penetrate your entrance with two fingers and a beckoning motion.

“Moan louder, (Name)” the pale swordsman commands. And you do, because he decides to include his mouth into the exhilarated anatomy of your sex. Shanks gets his lap wet from your and his juices, and it is due to how much he is turned on when he sees you and his boyfriend using their mouths on each other.

But he won’t just look, of course not. He makes you bend a little back and to the side, just enough to pass your arm behind his neck so he has access to your nipples. He gives wet kisses and sharp bites on them as Mihawk keeps using his greedy tongue to devour you. Obviously, soon your climax arrives, and biting Shanks lips you come feeding the swordsman the sweet elixir of your ecstasy.

But oh, no sex session is over until all of you have at least come once, and now is your turn to make them happy… oh so happy.

You kiss both at the same time, an image that looks exquisite as a Renaissance painting or perhaps even a sinful happening in the bible. A lustful exchange of body heat and your hands slowly sliding both men’s clothes. Perfect bodies, tanned and fair skin, Shanks wounds and Mihawk’s golden cross hanging from his neck. You gloat at them so ready for you, hard members for you to have fun with the red tip and the precum dripping on the wooden floor.

Kneeling, you stick your tongue out and taste both sexes as you hold them in your hands. A kiss on Shank’s tip, a kiss on Mihawk’s tip. Both at the same time, the salty delight of gluttony on your greedy tongue. And as you suck them well, they fuse in an erotic, obscene kiss.

“Stand up, our sweet baby” Mihawk says once both are satisfied with your lips around his dick, and makes you stand up with a finger under your chin. “We kinda want to fuck you at the same time, you know?” Shanks tells you, passing his thumb over your lip. “Fuck me, please” you moan and nod with needy sight.

Mihawk stands on your back, while Shanks stands in front of you. Sandwiched in between them, the strong arms of the swordsman lift you up from your inner thighs. Spread and dripping you wait for them to slide inside your entrance, womb ready to hold both of their lengths.

Shanks uses his hand to guide the swordsman’s shaft into your sex, not before jerking him off twice. Mihawk lets you fall over his dick once it is properly aligned, making your eyes turn white at the sudden stretching of your walls. “What a beautiful melody your whimpering is” he whispers in your ear. “Come on, Shanks. Fill her up with me” he encourages his boyfriend who is jerking off watching you being stretched out by Mihawk.

“On it, man” he smirks, using his Haki on you when his intense eyes fix on yours. You moan and sigh, Shanks is able to produce an oppressing feeling on your chest, especially when he has that red glare on his black irises. “Stop using that Haki, she is getting all lightheaded” Mihawk scolds him, as you could only feel the intense pumps of the swordsman and the dizziness of red haired lover’s Haki.

“It is just to get her ready…” Shanks laughs, and suddenly penetrates you. Both inside you, shafts grazing up and down surrounded by your clenching walls. In and out, sometimes kissing you, sometimes they kissing. A total shameless and indecent fusion of three bodies sunk into pure depravity.

And climax is about to hit you hard once again, eyes flooded with tears by the immense pleasure. Feeling full of them, grazing, biting. Your arms resting on Shanks shoulder, the back of your head on Mihawk's chest. Violent thrusts, in perfect synchronicity from both. One, two, three, loud moans as your nervous terminals decide it’s time to make you tremble and cum.

“Good girl”

“Now allow us to fill you up”

First the swordsman, then the Yonko. They come so abundantly it feels almost painful to be so full of their seeds. And you rest your forehead on the red haired shoulder, dripping their releases into the wooden floor of abandoned minka where you three are spending the night 💖 ~

[robert-the-greyhound]

The Aftermath; Rising of the People.

The airing of "Greyhounds, Running for their Lives" was a real turning point for Greyhound Welfare Activists in Ireland. It was a literal key to a locked door we had been trying to pick with a hairpin for years. It brought to light the dark underbelly of the Greyhound Racing and Coursing Industries on a national viewing platform. Finally, the world REALLY saw the Truth.

I remember my mother calling me the day after. She was very upset, and said she had to turn the last part off due to the incredibly distressing images and videos. My mother has always been a rather sensitive soul when it comes to Animals. She'll watch a horror or slasher film where guts and blood fly but changes channel when Bondi Vet comes on as she doesn't have the stomach for it. But after watching two parts of the documentary, she was truly shaken at what was happening in this country and abroad, all off the back of her taxpayer money. I remember her saying how she had listened to me and my rants but more-so in a "that's nice honey" kind of way. Seeing everything I'd claimed on the national broadcaster platform really brought to light all the information I had previously shared.

She wasn't the only family member to reach out. Having moved across the country from my extended family years prior, I was very much outside the loop of family chattering. But uncles, aunts, cousin's, they all sent messages or called to chat about the Documentary, ask after Robert and ask what THEY as individuals could do to help. And they weren't the only ones.

Messages FLOODED into the Greyhound Awareness Cork Pages, as well as Roberts personal social media. Outraged citizens wanted to know what they could do to help. At first, we didn't really know what exactly to tell these people, messaging in their hundreds. It was like a dam had broken and flooded our little River valley of awareness events and protests. Now instead of a handful of dedicated Greyhound Activists, we had half of Cork looking to lend their voice to the voiceless!

So we organised a Rally. A march through Cork City Centre. A demonstration that we, the people, are ANGRY and won't stand for the continued systemic abuse and neglect of Irish Greyhounds.

The day of the March was incredible. Arriving on Grand Parade to see hundreds of people standing where previously only a dozen had was breath-taking. Seeing dozens of rescued greyhounds where before we were lucky to have three or four was likewise inspiring, though it once again drew to light the reality of just how few greyhounds made it out of the industry into loving homes.

Robert and I were invited to lead the way, alongside fellow greyhound advocates and rescue hounds Farloe, Molly and Cooper. There was a short speech to begin before we marched, moving up Grand Parade, down Oliver Plunkett Street and back up Patrick's Street. People stopped their shopping and joined us, or leant their support vocally, joining the chants of "There's No Excuse for Greyhound Abuse" or "You Bet, They Die". The support was truly incredible.

The one thing I remember clearly that surprised me at the time was the raw emotion. Animal cruelty always seems to strike a chord with people, but having been speaking up for Greyhounds and aware of these issues for so long before they were made public, I had started to become a little numb. There was always another case of horrific abuse. Another death on the track. Another rescue begging for help for the "take them or ill get rid of them hounds". Another dog turning up in Spain, Pakistan or China. Always more abuse, death and neglect. But standing in Cork City Centre, my best fur-iend Robert by my side, surrounded by hundreds of people yelling their support for the cause, I actually felt emotional.

The March for Greyhounds through Cork City harnessed the new found limelight brought about by the RTE documentary and the the industry and the movement even further into the public eye. There were multiple photographers trailing along the march, photographing the event. Likewise, there were news reporters, recording and streaming the march, taking interviews and asking everyone and anyone for a comment. The answers were all the same; We are here for the Dogs. The thousands of Greyhounds culled annually in pursuit of profit. The 6000 innocent lives lost every year. We are here, and our demands are clear- We want an end to the abuse of Greyhounds on the back of our taxpayer money.

The march went smoothly, with little to no hassle outside of a few snide comments from pro-racing passers-by. The morning after, our story and mission was the headline for every local paper. Photos and videos of the march were all over social media. It was a resounding success. Our first BIG event had worked out perfectly, raising awareness and pushing for an end of the plight of greyhounds.

Even the day after the march, the messages kept coming in. The public were riled up and people wanted to know what else they could do. Writing letters to local reps didn’t seem to satisfy that itch. Sharing information on social media didn't feel personal enough. People wanted to physically go out and protest, so that's what we did. We organized another trackside protest. And the turnout was phenomenal.

Previous trackside protests had been a few dozen people at a push, with a handful of dogs if the weather allowed. Now it was a highly organised event, needing high vis jackets and a team of organisers, the whole of GAC was run ragged keeping everyone in check.

That protest was an emotional one, and one of the only times we changed from a silent protest to a vocal one. It was better to organize the outrage into a single cry than try and corral the outbursts. There’s always one or two that get too riled up and start yelling “scum” or trying to spit back at those driving into the track, those few individuals who get so emotionally charged they lose sight of the end goal of a peaceful protest and lash out instead for some immediate satisfaction. To prevent said outbursts, we organized into a single cry “there’s no excuse for greyhound abuse”. Pauline McLynn once again joined us, giving a short speech which I streamed Live on Roberts Instagram for another hundred or so viewers. The support really was incredible.

And it didn’t stop there. After the initial outrage and flood of support had broken the dam, a steady river of messages and requests came in, and so began what I can only describe as the Greyhounds summer tour of Cork.

TW: #Animal Abuse #Animal Death #Dog Abuse, #Dog Death, #Drugs, #Animal Rights, #Protest

Photo Credit: Karl Kachmarksy

[sapphicknightaesthetic]

Prompt #2: The winds call me back to you

Ireland had proved to be more than Eivor had bargained for. She sailed home on the wind-tossed sea, wondering if the trade routes, outposts, and alliances she forged would prove to be worth it in the end, compared to their exorbitantly high cost. She remembered Barid’s eyes, soft but desperate, pleading with her to ensure  King Flann’s allegiance with his last breath, paired with an intensity of his love for his son. He had built a thriving city all so that Sichfrith could prosper...

“...Valhalla need not be a place, Eivor. It can be a legacy…”

She thought about her own legacy. Her intention had always been a life dedicated to fighting for honor, for the glory of her people, for some measure of peace where she no longer needed to pick up her axe to defend them at every turn. But is that what England had given her? She had spent much of her energy and immense skills at the whims of others with political aims and goals, not always aligning with her own. She had placed more than one puppet king on a throne, often needing to choose between the better of two evils. Was this honor? Was this a legacy worthy of entrance to Valhalla? 

Eivor felt exhaustion roll through her like the tide, filling every crevice. She felt unsure of her place in the world, and just needed the comfort of home. Of Randvi. That was her raison d'être, as Estrid would say. Her reason for being. If she fought for the betterment of her clan, if she made connections and alliances to ensure their safety, that was all that mattered. She shook the sad cobwebs from her mind, determined to have a genuine smile for her wife when she returned. She leaned against the firm wall of the longship, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Birna shook her shoulder. “Come on Sunbeam. Home time.”

Eivor’s eyes fluttered open, she blinked sleep back to its void. “Have we docked?”

“Not yet. We’re just around the bend.”

“Thanks for waking me, Birna.”

“I’m so glad to be rid of Ireland! Those Druids were something else, eh? Giving decent Pagans a bad name.”

“Mmmm.”

“Eivor, I don’t mean to pry. But you spent a lot of time with that red haired witch...what’s her name…”

“Ciara. I did. What’s your question, Birna?”

“I’m just wondering if you made any Druid magic of your own in that wet bog of a land?”

Eivor rolled her eyes. Birna knew full well she hadn’t, though this question seemed to pop up after every major journey they undertook. Eivor had tried to tell her multiple times that she would never be unfaithful to Randvi, that she could not bed anyone for the sake of it if her heart wasn’t in it. The concept had been lost on Birna, and so the questions had persisted. 

“You know I didn’t.”

“I’m just checking. You do have a type, Sunbeam. That red hair burns like fire.”

Eivor grinned ruefully, shook her head, and turned to look at their surroundings. They were just passing the trined point in the river that led to Grantebridge, the ruins of Duroliponte looming to the Southeast. One more bend and they’d be home. She wondered if Randvi would be there waiting; she had sent Sýnin ahead with a note. The evening was well on its way, Randvi might even be asleep. She pictured their bed, warm and soft, furs piled on top of them as they snuggled together, limbs entwined. More and more, this was what she wanted. The return home was always worth it, and was always something she looked forward to, but lately she no longer wanted to return, she only wanted the simple everyday fact of her and Randvi together, because she had never left in the first place.

She watched, wistfully, as the crew lowered the sails and started rowing, this part of the river too narrow to traverse safely. Her heart rate increased as the Raider’s hut roof became visible, growing closer with each stroke of the oars. She felt a swell of pride as more of her village emerged from the lowland fog. Her village . She had built this place from almost nothing, discarded hovels of canvas and sticks. Sigurd may have claimed it as theirs, but Eivor had been the one to turn it into something to be proud of, something worth protecting. She leapt to the back of the ship’s tail, standing on a ledge. “...Valhalla need not be a place, Eivor. It can be a legacy…” This was her Valhalla, and it would never be complete without the person at it’s centre, at its heart. 

Eivor realized then that while she was proud of Ravensthorpe, Ravensthorpe, much like her former idea of Valhalla, was only a place. Randvi was her true home. She’d go wherever Randvi was, without question. Their love, with all of its storied history of waiting, longing, and hiding, was her legacy. She saw copper hair, cloaked against the oncoming chill of the evening, waiting like a beacon between the posts of the village entrance.

The ship glided silently up to the dock, and Eivor immediately leapt off, running as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her. She grabbed Randvi, lifting her off the ground in a tight embrace, spinning her around. She inhaled Randvi’s scent, spice and fire blending with earth and ink and smoke. Her heart beat Randvi’s name in fast repetition, her hands holding onto her wife as tightly as she dared without hurting her.

“My love,” Randvi whispered, as she held fast to Eivor. “How I’ve missed you.” Her hands caressed the back of Eivor’s newly shaved head, luxuriating in the velvety feel. 

Eivor couldn’t speak, she did not want to break the moment with words, but slowly set Randvi down, quickly finding her mouth and communicating everything she couldn’t say with a long, slow kiss, paying attention to the feel of Randvi’s lips, the warmth of her mouth, the teasing nature of her teeth. 

Claps and pats of hands landed on her back and shoulders from the crew as they walked past the pair. Their hearts never failed to be happy for their Jarl, for the love that she had found and fought for. For all of her sacrifice, for the enormous work she had devoted to make their lives better, they gladdened at the sight of Eivor and Randvi together. They knew how hard her road had been, how much she had suffered, often silently, from such a young age. Her happiness was their happiness, and they showed her whenever they could. Birna let out a whistle. 

“You better get her to bed, Jarlskona.” Birna wrapped an arm around Petra, who had walked down to meet her wife when she saw the familiar Raven sails from her hut.

“Leave them be, love. I’d better get you to bed.” Petra wrapped an arm around Birna’s waist.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me, Petra. Good night, Sunbeam!”

Eivor and Randvi watched them leave, as Eivor sent them off with a wave. Randvi turned back around, seeing the edges of something in Eivor’s face. “What’s wrong, darling? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I have a few cuts and bruises, nothing to worry about, my heart.”

“Thank you for sending Sýnin. I have a bath prepared. And some roast boar, thanks to Petra.”

Eivor felt overcome at the thoughtful care Randvi showed her in all things. “Randvi...thank you.” Was all she could manage. 

Randvi smiled at her, her wife was always so ready to display gratitude, a custom she never tired of, but she furrowed her eyes, wondering what was troubling her usually contented drengr.

“Let’s get you home.”

 

Randvi and Eivor sat in deliciously scented hot water. The worry and tension Eivor had carried home with her evaporated into the steam drifting to the longhouse ceiling. A satisfied smile now constantly fixed on her face. 

“This was a great idea, possibly the best you’ve ever had. And that’s truly saying something.”

“I aim to please, my Jarl.” Randvi felt self-congratulatory at the obvious change in her love’s mood. Years of observing Eivor, of seeing her come home in different states of health and happiness, of finding different ways of tending to that glorious body and soul made Randvi an expert in the proper care and maintenance of her physically ferocious wife. But one truth prevailed among her experience: Eivor always recooperated faster with a bath. 

“Are you ready to talk about Ireland?”

Eivor exhaled. “I will do my best. It still feels...fresh.”

Randvi sat up in the bath, giving Eivor all of her attention.

“You know I went to Ireland to help my cousin, Barid. And I did help, although Barid fell in battle. His High King did not heed Barid’s warnings. We were able to beat the Druids back, but I have been wondering if his death was needless, no matter how good and glorious his end. He died a hero, and is no doubt in Valhalla, but had his words been listened to, he would still be the King of Dublin, and his son would still have his father.”

“It is not up to us to change fate, Eivor. It sounds like the Nornir gave Barid a good death. What else can we ask in this life?”

“The love of the most beautiful and intelligent of women, for a start, at the very least.”

Randvi rolled her eyes and laughed, pleasure and embarrassment mingled together. When she looked back at Eivor, sorrow still crept in the periphery. “Is that all that troubles you, Eivor?”

“The Druids of Ireland are much like us, trying to carve out a life for themselves, trying to hold onto their traditions and culture, though the Christians would willingly wipe them, and us, away if given the chance. There was an extremist faction, the Children of Danu, that were causing all the strife while other Druids were forced to live in fear and even secrecy. It made me wonder if we will ever truly pacify this land. The Christians make no room for anyone else. I…I had to kill a Druid priestess who I thought was my friend, all for a Christian King who would rule over all. Was that honorable? I feel...stained, Randvi. I wonder if the decisions I’ve made in my time here are hurting our people, rather than truly helping. She was misguided, angry, she caused a lot of pain in the land there. I think King Flann Sinna saw the error of his ways in his treatment of the Druids, and he will make amends - he said as much. But these Christians...they can be false as well as unyielding. I’m not sure how far he can be trusted.” 

Memories of Fulke and King Aelfred made her skin prick involuntarily. The Norse and Danes were often met with a great deal more than suspicion and hostility, labeled as barbarians and savages for their voracity in war. But there was something honest and forthright in them as a people; they hid nothing, they lived openly and celebrated the customs and cultures of all who chose to live among them. Sharing resources through a community was their way, regardless of the people that community comprised; yet this was not the way of the Christians. From what she had seen, they feared all outsiders. She was unsure if this was unique to Anglo-Saxon Christians or not, but from all she had experienced, she was not keen to go looking for other examples. 

Randvi found Eivor’s hand under the warm water, and stroked soothingly. Her love never lost sight of the broader view and what it meant for her people. It was one of the many things she adored and cherished about her. She took Eivor’s fingers and brought them to her lips, kissing them lightly. 

“These are large questions, my love. Too large to confront in one night. But I promise I will help you as much as I can in our time come in this land. You try to take care of so many, Eivor Varinsdottir. I fear the world is too big, even for your very broad shoulders.”

Eivor felt her heart flutter. After all these years, after all this time, being with Randvi made her feel like she was falling in love with her over and over again. She never stopped falling. 

“But maybe, just for tonight, you can let me take care of you?” Randvi leaned forward, kissing one cheek lightly, then the other cheek, her nose, her chin, across her forehead, until she found Eivor’s lips, nipping lightly, until Eivor pulled her forward and kissed her with earnest desire. She opened her body, as Randvi lay on top of her in the bath, relishing the closeness after too many months apart. 

Eivor leaned her head back slightly, looking into Randvi’s eyes, darkened to forest green between her desire and the dim candlelight around them.

“Barid said something to me, before the Valkyrie came to claim him. He told me that Valhalla need not be a place, that it can be a legacy.” Eivor held Randvi’s gaze, needing her to feel how much she meant what she was about to say. “I think perhaps for me, it is not so much a legacy, as it’s you, Randvi. You are my home, my Valhalla. After all of our time in England, all of the campaigns, the politicking, the alliances we have paid for with sweat and blood, we could walk away tomorrow and I would not care. The winds always call me back to you, wherever you are.” 

Randvi felt strangely vulnerable, though deeply moved. She felt her heart race to echo and return Eivor’s sentiment. If Eivor ever left Ravensthorpe, Randvi would follow without hesitation. She used the moment to lean down and kiss Eivor again, with unashamed love and lust and pride and longing and hope. Their lives together had not been easy, but it had been worth every moment they had paid. 

She felt Eivor’s hands slide down to her lower back, holding her closely. She felt a hot rush in her center, and decided it was time to leave the bath. 

“Shall we adjourn to our chambers, my Jarl?”

Eivor smirked, knowingly. “Indeed, my Jarlskona.” 

Randvi made her way out of the bath, as Eivor followed suit. Randvi spied some new blade slices over Eivor’s body, and some fresh bruises getting ready to bloom; she’d be sure to kiss them all later. She took Eivor’s hand and led them naked to their bed. Their bed . A place she was never tired of acknowledging. 

Eivor pulled Randvi to her, wrapping her in strong, solid muscle. “I missed you, Jarlskona.”

“And I you, my Jarl.” Randvi pressed her teeth against Eivor’s neck, nipping and sucking her way along the tender flesh under her chin. She heard Eivor’s breath catch, and a gasp after she released skin from her teeth. She moved a hand, cupping Eivor’s sex, feeling the wet traces of her want on her fingers. Eivor bowed her head resting it on Randvi’s shoulder, her breathing deepening with anticipation. This fierce drengr, terror of England and Ireland, great Jarl of a proud clan, was made vulnerable and soft with a single touch. It was a power Randvi knew only she wielded, and she never took it for granted. 

She brought Eivor to the bed, guiding her down. “What would you like, darling?” She purred in a way that drove Eivor wild.

“You. I just want you.”

“I am yours, Eivor.”

And the sound of those words, said by the only woman in the world she needed to hear them from, snapped Eivor out of the worry she brought home with her. As the sounds of their love-making filled the longhouse, Ravensthorpe sighed relief, and for tonight at least, everything was well in the world.

[dianapana]

SH Day 1: The Beginning of us

@sasuhinamonth

(Modern AU, OOC most likely)

“Kids, don’t forget to be very nice to Grandma today, it’s a difficult day for her” Hikari said once again, only to be met with silence. The woman sighed deeply and looked into the rearview mirror at her two teens, both with earphones in, typing away on their phones.

“They both love your mom; I know they’ve been in awful mood swings lately but they haven’t seen Hinata in a couple weeks.” Yuuta, Hikari’s husband tried to reassure her.

“I know, but this would have been dad’s birthday, and she always gets so sad around this time of the year. It’s been almost 10 years since dad died, but it still breaks my heart every time to see her cry”

Just as she finished talking the car stopped, Hikari did not have the time to turn around and ask her kids to be well-behaved because they were both out of their seats and running towards the house.

“These kids, I swear…” Hikari murmured to herself as she was putting her phone into her purse getting ready to get out of the car as well. She was just about to complain some more but was cut off.

“MOOOOOM, THE DOOR’S LOCKED”

That was it, the sentence that made her skin crawl, she froze in place. Hinata always waited for them by the window and would come outside when the car park, no matter how down she was that day, she would always be outside, but she wasn’t, the door was locked.

“Kids come back here,” Yuuta said softly while taking her purse. The kids got back into the car with wide eyes, confused but also scared. Hikari could not move, she stayed still and silent looking at her own hands as Yuuta went to unlock the door and then went deeper into the house. The few minutes he was gone felt both like a few seconds and an eternity.

He came out of the house with a deep frown on, he didn’t even have to say the words, they all knew. The kids cried Hikari fought against tears and Yuuta called his brother-in-law to tell him the sad news. Hinata had passed away in her sleep.

The week to come was a blur of phone calls and planning intertwined with crying, mourning and comforting. The funeral came and ended in a blink of an eye. Most of Hinata’s friends and generation had already passed, thus most of the people attending were distant family or kids of her friends. Regardless the room was filled with sobs and condolences. Just a few days prior Hikari complained about her kids growing up too fast, becoming adults that no longer needed her, but during the funeral, both of them held her hand as they cried throughout the ceremony.

Hinata was buried next to Sasuke, after 10 years of making him wait she decided to leave them and join him in heaven, part of Hikari was happy the two of them would meet again in the afterlife, but the other half of her was stubbornly missing her mother, needing her even in her adult life.

The last step of the process was cleaning out the house. It almost felt like blasphemy when they decided to sell the house. Sasuke built that house for Hinata, they started their family there. Even after Sasuke passed Hinata refused to move in with either of her kids because the house itself held importance to her. Two months passed since the funeral, but it still felt too soon, yet Yuuta and her elder brother were moving the furniture seeming not to understand the gravity of the matter.

Hikari on the other hand was on the floor of Hinata and Sasuke’s bedroom looking through photo albums of their childhood. She was reminiscing all the happy memories she had in the house, being in deep thought she didn’t hear her kids walking in until one of them affirmed loudly. “Wow Grandma and Grandpa look so young here”

Hikari looked over to see which photo they were referring to. It was a black and white shot of the two smiling, they were 19 at the time, Hikari knew the picture well, much like the story behind it.

“That was taken on their first date,” she said and the two kids looked up at her, waiting, expecting more, willing to hear the story. “Mom told me the story about a million times when I was a teen ‘If he doesn’t treat you like Sasuke treated me here, don’t bother he’s not worth your time Hikari’ she’d say”

Looking at the photo for a moment longer she could almost hear Hinata’s soothing voice as she was telling the story.

“The two of us met when we were small kids, our mothers were friends but we moved from Konoha after I entered elementary school. At the time the move was devastating, but as years went by, he slowly became a passing thought until finally I completely forgot about him and our friendship. Years later after, I returned to Konoha because I was assigned a kindergarten teacher post here. The first few days here were awful, I knew nobody and the other teacher was so rude and mean. I cried myself to sleep the first two weeks. I hated the apartment I stayed in as well; looking back, the apartment was lovely, but I hated being alone, I had never been alone before, and at the time being a single young girl in the city by yourself was frowned upon, and that mentality was so deeply rooted In my mind as well, I felt shame at times to come home to silence. I barely managed to get used to the job when I met Sasuke again, he was a young, handsome man; and he knew it too, if you think his ego is bad now you should have seen him back then. He came by the kindergarten to pick up his niece. He claims he remembered me and that’s why he kept approaching me, but I don’t believe that; I am telling you he fell in love at first sight.

I didn’t want to do anything with him, I was still having a tough time and a relationship would be too difficult to start at the time, but he insisted almost daily. It started out in a self-centred manner; he really believed himself to be the best catch out there, and he was, but still, it wasn’t very attractive at the time how he approached me in that way. So, after a few tries, he realized he should change how he tried to get my attention, he would bring me one flower every day when he came to pick up his niece; he apparently begged his sister-in-law to allow him to pick her up daily. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped coming, I didn’t ask about him because why would I, but his disappearance made me feel sad and disappointed; it made me realize how our small interactions actually meant so much to me and how much I basked in his attention.

A month passed and I had not seen him since, this time his memory was much stronger and harder to forget, but I was starting to lose hope of ever seeing him again. And just as I started accepting that fact, he returned with 31 flowers, one for each day he was absent, and a picture; a picture of the two of us as kids holding hands in the backyard of my old house. He looked so lovely, he was wearing a suit; it was the first time I saw him in one; he had just gotten an important job and couldn’t stop by due to the training program he needed to complete.

Before I could even get a word out, tell him I had missed him or that I was happy to see him, or how utterly surprising it was that we had met before; he started talking about fate and destiny, it was a lovely speech that painted us to be the one and only option for the other, it was very sweet. But once again he didn’t allow me to reply before asking me to wait. ‘Wait for a month’ he said ‘I will come and ask you on a proper date, one that I will be able to pay for with my first salary.’ I thought that was charming of him so I agreed.

Little did I know that a month later he’d show up once again with 31 roses and on a motorcycle. I had never dreamt of seeing one of those at the time, they were still so new and almost frightening. But I had waited for that date for such a long time so I decided to do things his way. He took me to the most expensive restaurant in the city.

The date itself is such a fun story too when he had to order he asked for the beef tartare, but he had never had it before and thought the condiments that came on the side were pre-portioned so he dumped everything in, it was so disgusting he couldn’t even take two bites out of it, so we ended up splitting my pasta. After the ‘dinner fiasco’ as Sasuke still refers to it, we continued our drive, he took me outside Konoha grounds to a small river bank where it was rumoured that you could see the most stars in the sky. That’s where we took the picture. We actually took about a dozen but we were both nervous, so either I had my eyes closed or his hands were shaking and the photo was blurred.

We leaned against the bike and looked at the sky for a while until he took my hand and held it, my heart was beating so fast I was certain he could hear it. I had never been on a date before, and the month of not seeing him made me realize my feelings, add to that a full month of waiting and expectations and I was a ball of stress, especially now that we were all alone in a secluded area. I had been fine at the restaurant, I was calm and collected while he had been the anxious one, but now the roles were reversed, he appeared to be so sure of himself and I was shaking all over. I thought the silence would be awkward, but it wasn’t, it was comfortable. I can’t even remember how long we looked at the starts and occasionally talked a bit, but I do remember the cool summer wind and his warm hand, I remember the mischievous glint in his eye, I was sure he’d kiss me, but he only looked at me and called me beautiful.

We only had our first kiss on date number six about three weeks and a half later, when I asked why he waited so long, he told me that Itachi gave him some advice, that at times waiting builds up suspense and makes the other person constantly think of you; which was true, all my thoughts would somehow lead up to him; and Sasuke said that he wanted me thinking of him as much as possible so I’d catch up to him; so, I’d like him just as much as he liked me. Poor him, not knowing I had already fallen deeply in love.

Don’t settle for less Hikari, they have to have an elaborate and intricate plan to get to you, and if it’s you doing the chasing follow your dad’s lead because I thought he was so charming.”

The story would forever be in Hikari’s mind, she would forever remember her parents as being deeply in love from their beginning until their last moments. The house was filled with memories, but so was she, she carried around all of the stories and moments of her parent’s love story throughout the years, and it was a beautiful tale.

[13atoms]

Close Protection (Davos x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: An Introduction

Bodyguard AU, post-S2. Davos finds his way out of prison, and straight into trouble. Fortunately he meets a woman who's in even more trouble.

___________________________________________________

The rain hammered down on New York, making the scent of garbage and concrete and people stew in the air, a cocktail of misery which made Davos’ chest ache for the open air and biting cold of K’un-Lun. Life in the mountains had been difficult, survival more challenging at altitude, at the whims of the climate, but at least it had been fucking simple.

Behind him yet another Kung Fu kwoon had slammed their doors closed at the sight of him. He could teach their students discipline, mastery of the craft he had dedicated his entire life to, and instead he had been shunned. Turned away. Davos had expected to shed a few surly words, perhaps give a mild demonstration of the martial arts he had learned as a child, and an easy ticket to his own kung fu studio would be available shortly thereafter.

In the half-dozen establishments he had visited, none of these weak imitations of Shifus had given him a chance to speak.

This watered down version of his entire livelihood, taught to children after school and bored, middle-aged office managers, was an insult. More insulting, he was not even deemed worthy to teach it.

Davos growled with irritation at himself as the rain made him shiver, his body betraying him in its coldness. His hair had grown out in prison, for the months he had been left to rot before his charges were abruptly dropped, and beads of the grimy American rain clung to his dark hair. He ran his hands over his face, wincing at their softness after months without even a spar, ruffling the shaggy mess which had taken root on top of his head.

The beard, too, was irritating. He hadn’t had the chance to shave. A shaggy moustache brushed his top lip and nose, making him look as bedraggled as Danny as he wandered the streets aimlessly.

His cheap rubber shoes slapped against the sidewalk, making smashed glass skid and trash crinkle with each step. Car headlights cast unnatural white-light, skimming across the puddles of the road, their drivers taking it in turns to cut one another off and create meaningless traffic as Davos trudged past them.

He scowled at a taxi driver, the irate man yelling at someone in a black car who had blocked an intersection, spitting with anger as his words were lost to the chaos of the city before they reached their intended recipient. Was this all these people did? All that was beyond K’un-Lun?

In cities across the world, was this man’s meaningless argument being replicated and replayed, night after night? It was enough to make a man give up.

He stared down at the cracked screen of his smartphone, barely functional with a soaked screen, trying to find the next dojo he was looking for. Perhaps they might offer him lodgings, if not work. Surely someonepracticing Kung Fu in this city had a sense of honour.

As he approached the cheaply printed banner outside the building he saw the lights switch off, the heavy doors already firmly closed. Bastards.

Davos stood for a moment, silent, trying to listen for voices inside. Another taxi driver was screaming at a drunken boy for throwing up in his car. A rat skittered across the pavement, searching for its next bin to scavenge through. There was no activity in the dojo.

With a groan of frustration, a kick at the door just substantial enough to bask in the pain of the collision, Davos turned back to the unforgiving city.

New York’s skyline was not high-rises here, none of the grandeur of the city centre which Joy had so nonchalantly enjoyed. This version of the city consisted of three-story buildings and fluorescent signs, shabby facades to concrete buildings which hid a multitude of sins.

A multitude so great that Davos had decided he no longer cared. He slumped on to the curb, his soaked feet perched at the edge of a river of disgusting water which rushed down the tarmac. It was unhygienic, it was uncomfortable, and Davos no longer cared. The slab of cast-concrete curb he sat on was loose, one more piece of this hodgepodge city which was falling into disrepair, wobbling as he shifted his weight on it.

Overhead a helicopter was circling. It seemed to happen endlessly, in this city, always one chase afoot. A huge rat run, filled with eyes and yet powerless to stop the proliferation of vermin throughout the streets.

A stray cat roamed past him, fur plastered to itself and revealing a bony skinniness after years of struggling to survive, a dead rodent in its mouth. The feral creature looked up at Davos lazily, unfearingly.

It walked right past him, on its merry way. He wasn’t even a threat.

*

The crack of your knees against the cheap plywood floor was barely more than a whisper, but you winced at the noise, hoping the honks of irritated taxi drivers and the shouts of pedestrians outside would conceal the indiscretion of your body. You contorted your torso down, out of sight, feet braced and ready to run if you had to.

You cursed yourself for being barefoot. For being unarmed. For choosing such an obvious place to hide. Scrambling out of bed in the wee hours of the morning had left you a little disoriented, and you forced yourself to blink sleep away, tensing your body against the threat in your house.

A heavy footstep crossed the threshold, distinct and deliberate as the hunter got closer and closer to your hiding spot. The living room was a small space, the kitchenette an even smaller corner of it, and the man coming after you looked big. His shadow was fuzzy from the low lighting as he took another taunting step, daring you to move. You stayed as still as you could manage, fingers reaching for the lip beneath your cabinets. Crouching behind the counter, reaching blindly, you muffled a breath of satisfaction as you found a knife concealed beneath the kitchen island.

The handle of it was dismally small, the blade barely any bigger and not even fixed, but it was something. With the steel in your hands, you felt a little bit stronger.

The intruder was rounding the counter deliberately. You felt sure he knew you were there, with nowhere else to hide in this damn place. You had the same training, and you knew he was toying with you. Trying to flush you out.

You unflipped the blade, and waited.

“If you come out now, we can get takeout on the way to prison,” he sing-songed, and you forced yourself not to laugh at the taunt.

You had always liked Agent Byrne, all things considered. He was a little heavy-handed, but he got the job done. But you would certainly never see a prison, if he was the one sent to capture you. You could picture the butt of handgun cradled in his non-shooting hand now, dwarfed by the giant of a man, as he braced to get a clear shot of you.

It was his distinctive move. He liked to fire a single bullet. Usually through the forehead.

It was merciful, in his strange way. He had always liked to take the shot himself, overruling his partner, and for good reason. He was one of the finest assassins the Firm had. Regardless, it would almost be embarrassing, to be taken out on the floor of your own kitchen, armed with only a knife.

An assassin of that skill deserved a much better fight.

As the scuffed nose of his sneaker edged around the kitchen island, you knew you had to give him a hard time. Clutching the knife in one fist, you drove it clean through his foot, leaving the blade there was Bryce screamed in pain and anger. You were out the door before he had time to draw his weapon, ducking as a bullet perforated the drywall above your head.

“Sorry!” you called behind you, another bullet rocketing dangerously close to your arm as you grabbed your go-bag from beside the front door.

Then you paused, hearing your name bellowed by the man as his limping footsteps approached the front door. You felt a little bad for him, wincing at the memory of your own injuries.

Still, it was part of the job. And one of the reasons you had been so desperate to leave.

He screamed your name again, colourful threats and curses spewed after you. You winced at the harsh insults, taking a second to cut the building’s intercom wires and close the door for good measure. Another bullet punctured the door as your keys left the lock, and you bolted.

Without an elevator, the fastest way to street level was the stairs.

You thundered down them, uncaring if your neighbours were woken up at this ridiculously early hour. The city itself could be louder, and the gunshots would have tipped them off that something was wrong. It didn’t matter if you were heard, you had to leave. Fast.

You heard the slam of a door upstairs, one heavy footfall followed by a lighter one, screams of your name. Your heart pounded, grab-bag thumping against your back, as you took the steps faster still. Agent Bryce was limping as he followed you, but he was certainly giving chase. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, one hand ghosting the railings, as you descended stairwell after stairwell, sticking to the outer perimeter where Byrne couldn’t get a clear shot at you.

He was following, slowed down the by agonising wound to his foot, and raging with anger at the escape of a bounty.

Perhaps he had thought you would go down easily, that you wouldn’t be waiting for him. No one left the Agency. You knew it. You had sprung out of your bed when he had snuck into your apartment with a gun in his hand, perhaps hoping if he creeped enough you wouldn’t hear him.

No. You had heard him coming, sensors on the stairs tripping and the man’s heavy tread unable to be disguised even by tiptoeing.

His feet were louder now, slapping against the stairwell, echoing alongside his roars. The whole damn place stank of piss as you inhaled raggedly, lungs heaving as you reached the final stairwell and took it two stairs at a time.

You had no idea what you would do once you were at street level. You couldn’t go to the police. You certainly couldn’t go to your new employer, not at this hour, and not with an assassin on your tail.

When you burst out onto the open street you cursed at the heavy rain, instantly drenching you, ruining your visibility as you looked around wildly for somewhere, anywhere to hide.

Unarmed and unskilled in fighting, you knew you couldn’t take on Bryce. The man was a mountain of muscle, wielding a pistol with enough bullets left to take you out half-a-dozen different ways, faster and stronger than you.

Though perhaps not smarter.

A taxi driver was idling outside the building, and you moved to wrench the back door open, ignoring the driver’s shouts of irritation through a puff of cigarette smoke. You threw yourself into seats, ducking down to hide, ignoring the irritated glare the driver gave you.

“Please, drive. Get me away from here,” you panted, glancing back nervously at the building. The man scoffed, glaring at you in the rearview mirror.

“I’m waiting on a job, lady. Get out.”

“No! Please, it’s dangerous, you don’t understand,” you begged, but you could already see the driver’s uncaring stare, rejection in the premature wrinkles lining his face.

“Out.”

When you ducked down, staring once again at the doors of your apartment building, he sighed. Climbing bodily out the car, leaving his lit cigarette smouldering on the dashboard’s ashtray, the driver opened the taxi door. He attempted to haul you out of the vehicle, and even in your terrified state you were forced to comply. What else could you do?

Out on the cold road again, you stared wide-eyed as the taxi driver slammed his door shut, moving the car up the block and away from you.

As you stood in the middle of the street, dismay sinking agonisingly into your stomach, you found your feet frozen to the ground. The front doors of the building finally slammed open, a sickening grimace spreading across Bryce’s face.

His roars of anger had been terrifying, but that silent smile sent a chill through you like nothing else.

“You’ll pay for this, you bitch.”

He lifted his injured foot, blood seeping through his sneaker and glinting in the streetlight as it mixed with the oily water on the road’s surface. Then, he lifted his gun. Sirens were blaring in the distance, but you knew the cops would be too late. You would be bleeding out on the road, your blood joining the city’s bilge, and Bryce would get a pat on the back for a termination well done.

You hated your voice, your shaking, as you started to beg.

“Please! I’m sorry! I did nothing wrong I… if you knew what they were doing. All the fucked up shit I saw in those files, they’re not the good guys! The Firm… they’re –”

At the mention of your ex-employer’s name, a gunshot ricochet through the night, skidding off the road.

It was a warning shot. Agent Bryce would never miss otherwise.

Your head ached, pre-emptively, at the thought of the bullet which would smash through your skull and separate the tissue in your frontal lobe as soon as the assassin stopped having his fun.

“Shut up, you traitor bitch,” he growled, and it gave you some measure of satisfaction to see the pumice red crawling up his face, the shaking and the frustration building in him “I know what you did!”

He spat as he yelled, his voice echoing around the streets even louder than the pounding of the rain and the whine of distant cars. You noticed the taxi which had kicked you out creep around the corner, and tried to push down a sense of irritation at the man’s cowardice.

You turned back to Bryce, wondering how to stall for time. And if stalling for time would even help. The sirens seemed to have gotten further away – maybe your neighbours hadn’t even bothered to call the cops.

“I did what was right!”

Your voice shook, body trembling in the rain, grab-bag limp on your back as the barrel of the Agent’s handgun stared you down from the sidewalk. You tried not to jolt at the whisper of movement behind you, unable to break Bryce’s stare. To give him the window of non-judgement he could use to kill you.

This was good. You knew that Agents should never get personally involved. Should never let emotion cloud their operations. Clearly, he felt very emotional about this particular job.

“You have no idea what’s right, you disloyal –”

Your jaw dropped, the gun clattered to the ground, and Bryce crumpled.

Behind him stood a soaked man, significantly smaller than Bryce, a concrete slab in his hands. You stared wide-eyed at the attacker, watching as he crouched smoothly to inspect his victim, sprawled unnaturally on the ground. The gunman’s head was split open, and you didn’t need to get any closer to realise that he was dead.

“You…” your voice came out strained as you looked at the man who had saved you, the piece of concrete curb he had wielded smashing as it dropped to the ground.

Both of you seemed as surprised as each other, your jaw hanging open while the stranger’s was clenched painfully tight.

“You needed help,” he offered, stunned.

You nodded.

“Thank you.”

The pair of you startled, your standoff interrupted, as wailing sirens seemed to get closer.

“We should go,” you declared, watching as the stranger nodded his head firmly, glancing at the entrance to the street.

You took off, bare feet protesting against roughness of the ground, surprised to hear the slap of rubber on tarmac as the stranger followed you.

“Where to?” he asked, wide-eyed as he took one last glance as Bryce, bleeding out in the taxi lane.

“Not sure,” you admitted, “away from here.”

In truth, you hadn’t expected your sudden accomplice to stick around. He kept up, following you as you avoided glass and obstacles on the ground, mere inches from your side.

“That works for me.”

__________________________________________-

A/N: This is due to be chapter 1 of 8. The fic is still being written, so let me know what you think! I'm hoping to get a chapter out every few days, as I write them.

This one requires a little cheesy-trope-tolerance, but it'll be worth it.

[hettiesworld]

Name of fic: I Recommend a Daddy

Pairing: Sugar daddy!Chris x OFC (Addison)

Plot summary: When Addison runs out of money and is about to lose her house, her friends Auora and Sydney recommend to her a sugar daddy. Of course, there is one thing that is different to the other sugar daddy companies; there is a romantic relationship available.

Warnings: Foul language, sexual themes.

Author’s note: This is part of @donutloverxo Sugary 4k Challenge. Of course, it is not part of my Chris x Addison series fic, “Best Thing I Ever Had”, just to be clear. My OCs are not famous, neither are the celebrities in this.

Word count: 1641 words.

“Rory! Sydney! Need your help quick!” Addison called out to her friends whilst running from her spare bedroom to her own, her handbag in one hand and her purse in the other.

“What is it Addy?” Sydney asked her, trying to braid Aurora’s hair.

“I have no money! I am gonna lose my house --” She started to freak out, breathing heavily. Just like the talkative person that she was. Until Auora stood up from her sitting position.

She placed her hands on Addison’s shoulders.

“Addy. Calm down, it’s okay, just do what we did. Get a sugar daddy.” “A sugar daddy?” “Yeah.” Sydney added on, also standing up, phone in hand. “Have a look. This is my sugar daddy.”

The picture on Sydney’s phone was of a 50 year old man. She could tell by the wrinkles on his face. Addison cringed at how old he was.

“And this is mine.” Aurora beamed as she picked up her phone, showing Addison her one. He looked, at least, 30-something years old.

“How old is he?” She asked Auora. “51. And he is Syd’s brother!” Aurora exclaimed. “What? How is he one? I have met him loads of time and it looked like… no offence, but he looked like he didn’t have a lot of money.” Addison explained.

“Meh. Something about a relative having a lot of money and I didn’t get anything. So I got Jeremy to help me.” Sydney replied. “But I don’t mind if my brother didn’t help me, I got to meet --” “--Yes, you got to meet Jeremy, we know. But that doesn’t mean you get to kiss him or something…” Addison interrupted Sydney.

She out her handbag on the bedside table and sighed, collapsing onto the comfortable water bed.

“Actually…”

Addison sat up and was shocked at what Auora was going to say.

“Wait… you’re in a relationship with them?” Addison exclaimed, putting on a confused face.

Both Sydney and Auora shrugged their shoulders, basically saying that they were.

“It’s kinda complicated. It’s a polyamorous relationship. He can date other girls. That’s the business of the sugar daddy company they are part of.” Sydney explained.

Addison thought to herself, ‘Does she need a sugar daddy? She was losing her house and she didn’t have a lot of money…’ Sydney already had Addison’s laptop up, with the sugar daddy website on it, flashing in her blue eyes.

“Go on. Pick one!” Sydney encouraged, placing the laptop in her lap.

Addison sighed and looked over the website. She repeatedly denied every single one she looked at until she found a 39-year old man picture on there. Let’s just say, Addison was definitely interested in him. His name was Chris and he was from Boston, Massachusetts. 

“Ooh… He looks interesting and hot! Go on, message him!” Aurora said to her, instantly clicking on the messaging app within the website. “Rory! Why did you do that?” Addison condemned Aurora. “Look! He messaged you!” Sydney added.

Mr. Evans: Hello Addison. Are you interested in my offer of being your sugar daddy?

“Reply Addy, reply!” Sydney and Auora both exclaimed at her.

“Okay, okay. Just leave me alone. Let me message him.”

Addison: Hello, Mr Evans. I guess I am interested in your offer. Mr. Evans: Please call me Chris. Now, tell me. Why are you coming to this website? Addison: I am going to lose my job and my friends suggested this website. It could help me with my financial problems. Mr. Evans: I will gladly help with your money issues. We should meet up, but if you’re living far away, we should meet via webcam. Addison: I would like that.  Mr. Evans: Just give me your Skype details and I will contact you soon.

Sydney and Auora screamed with glee as Chris accepted the offer. Addison sighed at them before giving Chris her details.

“Now we wait.”

It was a few days afterwards and Addison was alone, in her bedroom. She was waiting for Chris to call her via Skype. Then, it happened.

“Hello?”

Addison looked up from her phone, as she was playing Candy Crush Saga.

 “Oh my… I am so sorry! I didn’t know you called me!” She yelped, making Chris laugh from the call.

“It’s alright. I’m guessing you’re Addison then?” He asked her.

“Yep. Sorry I was playing Candy Crush. And please, call me Addy. My friends call me that.” “Got it. What level are you on?” Questioned Chris, titling his head and then sipping a beer. “I’m on… level 182.” “That is cool. I’m on level 543.” “What? How?!” “Practice.”

They both laughed.

“Anyways… You have financial problems?” He then asked her, having a notebook and pen in his hands. “Yeah I do. A few days ago, I had no money in my bank account. I’m getting evicted soon cause I can’t pay my rent…” Addison rambled on as Chris nodded understandably, writing down what she was saying. “I am so sorry. Well, if you accept my offer, then you will be able to live at my place, accompanied with me and my dog, I will be able to pay everything off. All you need to do is give me company. Do some chores around the house, that sort of stuff.” He explained.

Addison thought for a while.

“I do need money. Okay, I accept.” “Great! You can start in 2 days. Just come to my address in Massachusetts and we will do the contract and important stuff. Get packed and I’ll see you then, okay?” “Okay! Thank you so much Chris!” She hung up.

2 days later, she flew from London to Boston, Massachusetts in the USA.

It was a city of wide avenues and small places to sit and eat, to relax as folk went about their day. There were the sky towers in the centre, what was once thousands of homes now took up less ground space than an old shopping mall. The rest was parks and wild spaces, a chance to walk among nature or enjoy the trails on bicycles or horseback. Yet perhaps Addison’s favourite thing was the river that flowed through the centre, crossing the bridges, pausing just to look at the view I saw every day and loved all the more.

She arrived outside a white-ish house, just outside the city.

There stood a tall man, about 6’ 0”, with short brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, 2 buttons undone. He also wore brown shorts and white sneakers. “Addy! You came!” Chris smiled and welcomed her with open arms. She stood out of the fancy car. She was wearing a pretty flowery dress with matching blue shoes with wedged heels. Bright red sunglasses, her blonde hair flowing in the cool wind. In her hand, a beautiful leather handbag.

Addison pranced over to Chris, trying not to fall over in her shoes.

“Chris! It is a pleasure to meet you.” Her London accent was clear as day as she gave him the usual posh greeting; an air kiss on each cheek. “You too. How was your flight?” He asked her, being a true gentleman and bowing, kissing the back of her hand. “It was luxurious!” Addison smiled at him, blushing at the gesture he gave her. “Please! Let me give you a tour!”

The house Chris lived in looked quite expensive. She was surprised that he had a drawing-room (or a living room to you guys). The drawing room had a snug and huggy feel to it. The dining room, which was next to it,  was Chris’s in-home cafe, one where all the chefs and wait staff cooked for a living.

Upstairs, the bedroom she was staying in was just tidy enough to show that she cared about the space and just messy enough to show that she was able to let her creativity roam free. It was her goldilocks zone, perfect for how she was, especially for an inspiring storyteller like her. The en-suite next to it was a place of washing, of nurturing our sanity with the sensation of warm water and aromatic soaps. For the body must feel loved and cared for, for then it feeds back these messages to the brain and begins to set up a positive cycle of wellness.

After the tour, Chris let his personal servant takes Addison’s luggage to her bedroom as they stood in the massive hallway.

“Please make yourself at home. You are staying here. Any questions?” He asked her. “No. Not that I can think of.” “Good. Let’s meet in the drawing-room to discuss the contract.”

They both walked into the drawing-room and sat next to each other, with a big pile of papers, which is basically the whole contract. It was halfway through the signing.“Okay… time for section 5, which is relationships and sex.” Addison choked as he said that. “S-sex?” She faltered, coughing as her drink went the wrong way down her throat.

“Yes… you okay?” Chris helped her by patting her back. Apparently, that doesn’t help at all but Chris didn’t know that then.

She hummed in response as she put down her drink, leaning back as if it never happened.

“You alright now?” “Yep. Carry on.” “Okay… Now, are you fine with us being in a polyamorous relationship or do you want a ‘just friends’ relationship?” Chris asked, reading off the paper. Addison pondered to herself.

“Can I think upon it? I don’t want to be in a relationship without any romantic interest in each other…” She mumbled. “Yeah, of course. It would be cool to go on a date to see if we do have a spark.” He suggested, placing the contract down back onto the table. “I like that idea.” Addison smiled at him, blushing.

[ficforce]

Running Scared Part 2

Y/N sat on the raised platform that lead out to the very small garden of her home and her fingertips tapped nervously on the edge of the small table; Konro suggested they head out there to talk. She had pulled out the zabuton for them to sit on and he made her stay out in the warm, night air whilst he made tea in her kitchen. She could hear the voices of her friends and neighbours drifting over from the streets, sounds of games being played and a few friendly arguments over who was buying the next round of drinks - she was almost certain she heard Hinata and Hikage’s giggles from the other side of her fence.

Konro set the teapot down and poured for them both, “I can’t remember the last time we had tea out here, your tree got pretty tall… it’s almost as tall as Waka.”

“Which is still not that tall,” Konro looked at her and grinned, one of their past times had been picking on Benimaru. Y/N watched him as he looked over the dimly lit space, the lanterns all around town had brightened up everything but the stars were still perfectly visible, much more so than in the Cities. She hadn’t realised he wasn’t in uniform; his hair was pulled back as usual but the yukata seemed almost new, it was simple in a dark, navy colour that matched his eyes and at the shoulder seams, she noticed silver crosses providing a little decoration. They reminded her of the tattoos that encircled his biceps.

He didn’t seem to be as heavily bandaged as usual and somehow it made him look a little softer. Not that that made any sense to her but that’s what Y/N thought, “You’re missing the festival because of me…” He couldn’t tell her he wasn’t going in an attempt to make her feel better, he was dressed up for it and she also guessed he would have spent it with the twins, “I’m okay now, Konro. I would have spent the evening out here or by the window anyway.”

“I’m not that bad a company… besides,” he fixed her with a gentle but firm stare, “You agreed to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” He had only wanted to come out tonight in hopes of seeing her, it wasn’t quite the scenario he had envisioned though.

Y/N picked up her cup as a distraction and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, “Okay…”

x - -

“Y/N!” The woman’s head turned toward the closed hatch as she heard Benimaru’s voice - shortly followed by the distinct sound of Konro smacking the back of the younger man’s head. She laughed as Benimaru complained and opened up the hatch to see her two favourite Hikeshi, “‘bout time. I’m starving.” He took the bento she offered him and settled himself in the shade her doorstep provided.

Konro looked about ready to hit him again.

“Would you like some tea, Konro?” Her question brought the disapproving glare away from Benimaru and Konro’s expression softened for her as he nodded, he thanked her when she gave him a bento and he leaned on the counter to eat it, “I had to close earlier than usual today.” Y/N spoke a little louder as she prepared the drinks, “I sold out completely - though I made sure to save you two some food. I’m getting popular!”

The man swallowed a mouthful of rice before replying, “That’s great, Y/N. And you haven’t had any more trouble with those brats?”

“Not since you made one of them piss their pants,” she handed him a cup and Konro nudged Benimaru with his foot to get his attention, Y/N heard a muffled thanks from around whatever he was chewing on and smiled. “You didn’t have to go out of your way for me…”

He shrugged and took the cup she offered him, “Its all part of the job.”

“No, it’s not.” Benimaru’s voice piped up from the doorstep - followed by a small ‘ow’ as Konro kicked him.

“Yes. It is.” Maybe he had taken it a little further than usual but he didn’t appreciate the wannabe gang trying to extort money from Y/N’s business… or anyone else. The Hikeshi were supposed to keep the peace and stop it from becoming as lawless as the Empire seemed to think it already was. “If I didn’t scare the hell out of them they’d only come back, might makes right.” It was as simple as that; the strongest ran Asakusa. Konro was just glad that the Hikeshi were on the side of the people rather than a gang of thugs out for themselves.

Watching him eat for a moment longer, admiring his broad shoulders and the way the muscles in his arms moved when he lifted food to his mouth - a mouth she had thought about kissing…

Y/N felt her face heat up and quickly set about cleaning up the kitchen and putting away the supplies she had bought a little earlier. Konro had a way of looking intimidating whilst, at the same time, being the gentlest man she knew. His presence never failed to put butterflies in her stomach and make her giddy as a schoolgirl with her first crush.

She didn’t seem to notice Konro stealing glances at her as she kept herself busy, occasionally she would almost catch him but managed to play it off, smiling to himself as he thought it was cute that she could be so shy… He just hoped it was because she liked him too. “Y/N… you wanna go to that new bar with me tonight?”

“What?” Benimaru looked at him with an almost glare, he put his empty cup down by his side and crossed his arms, “You coulda asked me.”

Y/N returned to the counter, leaning over it just enough to see him at the side of her home, “Maybe he’ll ask when you’re twenty-one.” She tossed him one of the salted snacks he said he liked and grinned as he caught it with ease, “I know you can get hold of sake but good luck getting it in an actual bar, short stuff.”

“I’m taller than you… probably.”

The woman turned her head to look at Konro, her eyes widening as she realised their faces weren’t that far apart with them both leaning on the counter, the serious edge to her voice faltered a little, “D-don’t even think about sneaking him in.”

Konro chuckled into his tea; she could be quite motherly when it came to Benimaru. Placing the empty cup on the counter he leaned in just a little more and his hand moved to cover hers on the counter, “I was asking you.” It was fun watching her flounder at his obvious attempt at asking her on a date, he could almost feel the heat radiating off her cheeks and her shy smile only made him want to lean in the last few inches to steal a kiss.

“I… yeah, that sounds good…”

“I’ll pick you up at s-” the sound of someone screaming cut through his words and as the three of them looked in the direction it had come from a plume of black smoke rose into the sky. “Infernal…” Konro stood back up straight and then another plume appeared, followed by a third and fourth in quick succession before the alarm began to ring from the watchtower. “Y/N, go inside and don’t leave unless a Hikeshi says otherwise.”

Y/N nodded quickly and watched as the two men ran toward the centre of town. Closing the hatch and locking it tightly she stood still with her hands fisted in her apron - something wasn’t right… Surely that many people hadn’t combusted all at once?

A chill trickled down her spine as her fingers started to feel cold, letting go of her apron and shaking them out she ran to her room to grab an overnight bag in case she needed a temporary home in the guardhouse. It wouldn’t be the first time Benimaru wrecked her house.

And then she waited as it began to get unnaturally dark; the feeling of dread her only company.

It was hard to tell how quickly or slowly time was ticking by as she heard explosions from outside, often followed by screams and then there was what sounded like dozens of feet running past her house. A loud bang on her door made her drop her bag, “We’re evacuating to the river!” whoever it was yelling through her door was gone just as quick but she heard them yell the same at the next house and then the one after that. Y/N opened her door, stumbling back as heat washed over her face and the smoke assaulted her nose and mouth, through slightly watering eyes she saw that the sky was masked out by smoke, ash and flames as Asakusa burned violently. Crowds of people were running past her and she did her best to stay at the edge of it and not become affected by the mass hysteria.

This wasn’t normally how evacuations went, this wasn’t well organised and there was none of the usual bravado that Asakusa’s residents showed - they were terrified.

Red and orange flames jumped from house to house as if chasing them, and perhaps it was the panic but Y/N thought she saw the figure of a person in the flames. The thought flew from her mind as she felt someone push into her and sent her onto her hands and knees in the dirt. A knee knocked into her cheek and someone else stepped on her ankle, it was all she could do to turn herself into a ball to protect herself from being trampled. The crowd soon overtook her and Y/N bit down a pained sob as she tried to stand, hobbling forward a few steps forward before freezing solid - the turn at the end of the street, where all those people had run, had become an inferno.

Screams and yells that had been panicked morphed into ones of agony.

The woman couldn’t even draw in a breath as she watched burning people stagger and fall back into view. Some were infernalised, whilst most were burning alive; Men, women and even the children. The smell of burning hair, and flesh, and clothes ravished her senses and made her gag. Her inability to move, the fear paralysing her, made it possible for the burning crowd to stagger or crawl back towards her; it wasn’t until someone grabbed her injured ankle that she had the sense to runaway.

x - -

Konro’s hand went to the back of his neck and he couldn’t speak - or rather, he didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t known what she had seen or gone through, he hadn’t even known she’d gotten hurt or trampled or burned or anything. All he had known in the first few days after the fire was that she was cooking for anyone who needed feeding and that she came to the guardhouse a few times. “I’m sorry… I shoulda checked on you.” During her description of what had happened he had reached for her hand after she had started to cry, he gave it a small squeeze as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“You were so heavily sedated you barely knew which way was up… idiot.” His sudden guilt made her want to hit him because there hadn’t been anything he could do but at the same time, it was sweet of him. “I… I heard you and Beni through the wall that night.” His head tilted a little and she continued, “I locked myself inside the house and huddled up as far away from the door as I could and I heard you telling him he was at his limit and then it got really quiet and this… this horrible feeling came over me.”

Konro grit his teeth, he remembered what came next and he hadn’t known she was in the house - he could have killed her. He had taken out the houses around him and somehow left hers standing. Maybe he did it unconsciously? It was her home and her business, it was important to her so it was also important to him. “That was just before I put Beni out of commission. I didn’t want him burning himself out and ending up…” he gestured vaguely to himself, “Like me.”

“It sounded like a hell of a fight, the whole house shook and I really thought it was going to come down on top of me. I remember getting my first panic attack and passing out after I heard what must have been your Akatsuki rip up the ground,” Y/N felt his hand move onto of hers and when she looked up he was staring at the table with his head bowed, it wasn’t hard to tell he was berating himself and Y/N took her hand from his so that she could move to sit beside him. Leaning into his arms a little she took his hand in both hers, “What’s wrong?”

She was warm against his side, the weight on him wasn’t enough to bother his damaged skin too much and even if it did he wouldn’t want her to move. It was nothing short of a miracle to him that she wanted to be this close, especially after everything he had put her through, “I knew I’d frightened you…” Konro felt his voice crack a little and cleared his throat before continuing, still unable to meet her eyes, “It just wasn’t the same between us again and I couldn’t figure out why you were so uncomfortable near me… It was only today that I realised you live opposite the mess I made and now I find out you were in my… you were in range for the shockwave to have brought your house down on top of you - I could have killed you, Y/N!”

“That’s not it at all!” Without thinking, she grabbed his face with both her hands and turned his head to look at her, silently pleading for him to listen and actually believe what she was saying, “You nearly died, Konro, you gave all you had to fight for our Town! I’m not scared of you, I’ve never been afraid of you, Konro… I just…” She needed to tell him or she really would lose him, “I can hardly leave the house anymore, I was scared you’d ask me out and I’d have to say no and then you’d never speak to me again!”

He felt her hands beginning to tremble and caught them in his, bringing them down to her lap. Y/N looked down at their hands and then back at his face where he was gazing at her the way he used to; like she was something special and adored. She had expected pity but found none.

The Lieutenant reached out to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers, “I wish I had asked you sooner, so that you didn’t have to keep running away. I guess I was scared too; worried you might say no.” The man pulled away from her and with a ghost of a smile on his lips he opened up the pouch tied to his belt, “We don’t have to go out to have fun, I could come here and if you want to stay at the guardhouse then I’ll walk with you the entire way. I only took tonight off because I hoped I would meet you and give you this…”

He held out a kanzashi. It was a single round petalled flower on a hairpin, he hoped it was still her favourite colour and Konro watched her expression nervously, “I’m not great at making these but it’s the best one I could manage because they’re kinda fiddly.” When she didn’t react or say anything he started to doubt himself and was tempted to put the small gift back, “It’s a dumb tradition… making a kanzashi for the girl you want to take to the festival.”

“Konro… I…” Y/N’s face felt hot and she gripped the hand he had left on her lap, “I can’t go out there, I want to take it, I want to spend time with you again.” Tears pricked her eyes again and she looked down, “I can’t go out there, Konro! I’m sorry, I’m sor-” Her whole body fell forward as she was pulled to him, Konro hugged her to his chest and stroked her back; it was so similar to when he had calmed her down earlier.

“We don’t have to go out,” he slid the kanzashi into her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “A man only goes to a festival for three things; Pretty women, sake and fireworks.” Almost as if he had timed it a whistle sounded up into the stars and burst into colour, “I have two out of three.” Feeling her turn her head so that she could watch the fireworks, Konro felt his heart flutter when her arms wrapped his middle.

Y/N sucked in her bottom lip, thinking as she watched the sky blossoming every colour imaginable, “You know, if you stay a little longer… I can find some sake.”

“I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me, Y/N.”

[batgurl1989]

A Wolf In Toussaint Chapter Three

Summary: After being summoned by the Duchess, you and Geralt head to the Palace of Beauclair with some trouble on the road.

Word Count: 2120

Warnings: spoilers for the Blood and Wine DLC

A/N: I know this is so soon after the last chapter, but I was too excited not to post it. Taglist is open, requests are open.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @princesssterek @seanh-boredom @djinny-djin-djin @diegos-butt @cynic-spirit @daddys-littlewhitegirl

"Younin! Watch out!" Geralt growled a warning at you as you dodged a stream of caustic acid an Archespore shot at you. Where Igni hadn't scorched the ground, the large plant-like monsters' poison had. Geralt slashed at one of the large plants, trying to sever it's head.

You tried to stay to the edges of the battle zone, drawing on the smoldering embers for power as you kept fire shooting from one hand at the plants. You didn't have any silver weapons on you, which would have to be remedied as soon as possible. You knew Geralt was worried about you, and that was causing him to be distracted. It had only been a few days since you woke up, and this was the first time you had had to fight since the bandits on your way to Novigrad. You knew it was a risk to draw on the fire, as it was the hardest element to control, and the chaos was weakening you at an alarming rate. But right now, you didn't need to control where it went as long as you aimed wide of where Geralt was.

"It's multiplying!" You called out over the din of the fighting. Buds were springing from the ground. Though these weren't full blown monsters yet, the vibrations of the fire and the fighting were agitating them. One burst close to you, spitting acid in all directions. A droplet landed on your boot, sizzling as it ate through the leather. "Shit!"

Geralt was by your side in a flash, pulling your boot off before the acid could make it to your skin. His eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, concern and something else flashing in the golden depths. You nodded that you were alright, and he was gone again. He swung his heavy silver sword deftly into the monster, his energy seeming to have jolted back to full now that you had come close to being hurt.

Turning your attention to the buds, you carefully stepped further back, out of range of any shooting poison. With your boot off, the rocky ground bit into your sole, but you couldn't think about that now. As long as you avoided the acid pools, you could handle it. Eyeing up the buds that seemed ready to burst, you unleashed a stream of fire, using all your concentration to aim true. The blooming plants burst into fire, sizzling as they wilted to the ground, their poison remaining inside and lighting up with the petals.

Your head snapped around when you heard hissing and squealing. Geralt had slashed through the bud that served as the monster's head, ending the monster's life, and stopping it from creating more buds. He carefully wiped his blade off before returning it to it's sheath alongside his steel blade.

With laser-like focus, he stormed over to you, his hungry eyes raking over your body in such a way that your breath caught in your suddenly dry throat. The tip of your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his eyes tracking the motion like a starving animal. You heard a low rumble deep in his chest, and it set all your nerves on fire, ready for him.

When he reached you, he pulled you roughly into his arms, his mouth covering yours with such force your teeth clacked against his. A long low moan escaped you as you pressed against him, desperate to get closer. The adrenaline from the battle still coursed through both your veins, and it needed an outlet. His hands spanned your back, pressing you tightly against his armour, his fingers gripping the linen shirt you wore for the road. You clutched the grooves of his armour, standing on your toes to kiss him deeper, your tongue delving into his mouth to tangle with his own.

His hands travelled lower, gripping your arse before he lifted you off the ground. Instinctively you wrapped your leather bound legs around his waist, your arms going around his neck to steady yourself. With one arm banded under your legs, his free hand dove into your hair, pulling it free of the ponytail you had tossed it into. Your red hair caught in the breeze, fluttering around both your heads in a curtain of fire, blocking out the world.

You pulled away when breathing became a necessity, resting your forehead on his. His golden eyes searched yours, but you didn't know what he was looking for. You breathed deeply his scent, the adrenaline leaving your system, and your nerves calming. This man drove you wild and seemed to centre you. It was a complete whiplash effect, and had your head spinning, but you wouldn't give it up for anything.

"I suppose we should find the horses?" You whispered, not wanting to destroy the mood of your little world. Geralt chuckled softly, before kissing you all too briefly one last time. Slowly, he let you slide down his body until you were on solid ground again. As your foot hit the rocky ground, you remembered you only had one boot on. "I don't suppose you packed extra boots in my size?"

"Sorry, it was a vast oversight on my part." Geralt shook his head, going to retrieve your boot. He examined it quickly to make sure there was no acidic poison left on it, and to make sure the hole hadn't ruined the integrity of the boot. "You should be able to wear it until we get to the city. I promise to buy you a new pair."

"You don't have to do that. I can buy my own." You blushed as you sat on a nearby log to pull your boot back on. The hole wasn't any larger than the size of your pinky nail, and as long as it didn't rain, you would make it to the city. "Could we also stop by a blacksmith, and see about getting me a silver sword or at least a dagger?"

"Of course." Geralt nodded, offering you a hand to help you up once your boot was laced again. You took his rough hand, but didn't let go once you were vertical. He raised his eyebrows at you, but a small smile played at his lips, and his grip tightened around your fingers. "But first, horses."

It didn't take you long to find the horses. They had run off at the first sound of trouble, but these were Toussaint horses, and were used to being ridden into battle, so they hadn't gone far. They were munching grass as though bored, which you couldn't help but laugh at.

"Dandelion is bringing Roach and Marabelle when he comes down. He sent a letter while you were sleeping." Geralt explained once you were back on the road to the Palace of Beauclair.

"So the King let him go?" You were surprised that you hadn't been worried about it until now. Sure you had been busy being captured and then healing and regaining your strength, but your friend's well-being should have come to mind before now. You mentally kicked yourself for being so selfish. "Do we know yet what went wrong?"

"From what Yen could figure out from her sources, the King of Beggars is either working for someone who wants you and he was delivering you to him, or he was trying to get you away from the person who wants you." Geralt fought hard but ultimately failed to keep the edge off his tone. You weren't the only one jealous of an ex. "One day, you will have to tell me what he means to you."

"If that's what you really want." You had nothing to hide, and if Geralt needed to know for his own peace of mind, you wouldn't keep that from him.

"I'm not sure that it is." Geralt grumbled, adjusting the reins in his hands. "But it might be something that can give us a clue as to what just went down."

"Perhaps when we get back from the Palace, we will have time." You nodded. You knew how hard it was to ask about an ex, and if Geralt wasn't sure he was ready yet, you weren't going to push it. The King meant literally nothing to you other than as a friend, but you weren't sure Geralt would believe that without hearing the rest of it. "So is there anything I need to know about the Duchess?"

"Other than she likes things done her way and quickly, not really." Geralt shrugged. To him, the Duchess was no different than any other client, other than she had the army to back up her demands while farmers and villagers barely had the coin to get his services in the first place. "She can run a little hot and cold, but that depends on how grave the job is. If there is no job, she is actually quite pleasant to be around."

"Oh?" You raised your eyebrow at the Witcher, your voice dripping with unimpressed sarcasm. Knowing him and his past, there was only one conclusion that jumped out at you after what he said.

"Not like that, I swear." Geralt laughed deeply, warmly, in a way you rarely ever heard. Then his face grew serious. "Her sister, however..."

"You're joking! You have to be!" You blinked a few times, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he slept with the Duchess's sister. You were pretty sure she was dead, but didn't know if Geralt had a hand in that or not. "Are you joking?"

"I don't kiss and tell." Geralt winked at you but remained silent. Frowning you tried to think of a way to get him to talk, but knew that once he set his mind to it, there wasn't much you could do to change it.

"Fine. Keep your secrets." You mock pouted, turning back to the road ahead. The palace and the sprawling city across the river from it had come into view, and it took your breath away with its beauty.

"Like nothing up North, isn't it?" Geralt commented, watching you take in the fairytale-esque scene in front of you. The towering palace with its spires and arching bridges. Tall trees and rooftop gardens painted the scene with every shade of green. The lake shone like a fiery sapphire as the sunlight reflected on its smooth surface.

"Definitely not." You couldn't tear your eyes from it as you continued to ride towards it. You didn't remember making the decision to kick your horse into a gallop, but sound the wind was whipping through your loose hair, pulling it behind you as you raced toward the city. Geralt kept pace with you, smiling as the joy inside you bubbled into laughter at the freedom you felt in that moment.

At the city gates, you slowed your horses. Unlike in Novigrad, the guards at the gate were mostly there to keep the peace. No one was checking papers, or questioning anyone about whether they were magical or not. Everyone was free to roam in and out of the city as they wished. The atmosphere was completely different than what you were used to, and you felt almost giddy about it.

As you rode through town, your head was constantly swiveling to take in the sights and sounds of the lively city. Artists advertised their skills and their work outside brightly lit shops. Bakers were rushing to keep up with the demand for their pastries. Florists boasted about the colours of their most recent blooms, ready to steal the hearts of those who received them. Fresh fish was brought in from the river, the catch of the day being shouted to draw in more customers. There were few street walkers and even fewer homeless people. The cobble streets were wide and clean, nothing like what you were used to in Velen.

Geralt watched you with an amused look, indulging you when you wanted to stop to watch a street performer either sing or dance. He handed you coins to give to them when the performance was finished as you clapped loudly. Your heart sang out in happiness that he was showing you this part of his world and his life. You could see yourself easily settling in at Corvo Bianco, making wine, traveling to the city when you wanted to take in some art and culture. You found yourself wondering if Geralt would ever retire from the Path, and settle down here for good. But you shooed that dark cloud away before it could rain on the brightness of your day. You didn't know what the Duchess wanted, and that was as much darkness as you wanted right now.

[melisa-may-taylor72]

For the first time an Argentine publication was specially invited to the United States to attend the concert, party and subsequent press conference of the group QUEEN. This compliment that corresponded to PELO, made it possible to see and hear the performances of the English band in New Orleans and Miami. We also got interviews with the group and its current producer. As a preview of all that material, we reproduce the review of the New Orleans concert witnessed by our special envoy.

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New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans with all its huge genesis of jazz and blues. With a history of mystique and art born on the banks of the Mississippi River. A city where the constructions and the european style (Franco-Spanish) coexist in eloquent contrast with the steel, cement and glass that constitute the visible face of this country. And this is where we come to listen to one of the most powerful English rock bands: Queen. It’s no coincidence. Their new album is called “Jazz” and New Orleans breathes it everywhere. This charming city that seems unreal, welcomed a group of journalists from various nations, invited especially by EMI to attend the concert, the party and subsequent press conference that Queen was going to give. New Orleans was the third date of the 32 concerts that the band was going to perform in 29 cities throughout the country. With overwhelming success in Europe, this tour marked Queen’s final coup in the United States. And they did, because the band is playing like never before, with much more rock and roll than when they started. This is what happened on stage.

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An hour before

The concert in New Orleans would take place in the Auditorium, an immense theatre belonging to the city with a capacity for 20,000 spectators. This was Queen’s third performance in the United States, having played two days earlier in the legendary Memphis (Tennessee). The show would start at eight o'clock in the evening, and an hour earlier we decided to go to the concert site to recognize the field. The Auditorium is located practically in the centre of the city, so the access to the place, and later exit, were done quickly and efficiently. The concert is barely an hour away and the people is waiting in front of the gate numbered one hundred. We approached to chat a little with the boys who wander around drinking soft drinks or the very light American beer. Almost everyone sees Queen for the first time and, not coincidentally, their number one band is Led Zeppelin. Everyone shows they know a lot about the band and gets excited when a colleague from Argentine television and his cameraman starts filming them with the camera. 
When we retire, we observe the four enormous trucks that carried the stage that Queen uses in their shows. We return to the hotel where a special bus will take us to the stadium.

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The stage 

The Auditorium of New Orleans is a large rectangular cement stadium. It has a plateaus tray that surrounds it completely. In the lower part no seats were placed, while upstairs it is easy to settle in the bleachers, where there are a lot of exits and corridors to the outside. People enter comfortably and quickly and there are few policemen, who act as ushers, indicating where to place themselves and how to avoid crowds. New Orleans has among its traditions the Mardi Gras (our carnival) so it is customary to attend disguised events. Thus four witches, a mummy, three wild animals, a princess, two Martians, and some more difficult to identify parade before our gazed eyes. Everything serves to color the party. The stage is about thirty meters in front and ten meters in deep. At the sides there are two platforms one meter high, just below the columns of reamplification. These hang from the ceiling of the stage in two groups of six. The stage is open, in the dark. You can only see a kind of grill of lights, hanging directly in front of the audience. In a few minutes the stadium fills up. The turnout is estimated at 18,000 people. All tickets were sold in advance, at the sole price of $8.50. There are no numbered locations and the ones that arrive are the ones that get the best location. There are no fights and everything runs smoothly. In the area without seats are located two huge consoles: to the right the computerized system of programmed lights. These are the stage lights, up and to the sides, and the ones that fall from behind in front of the stage. To the left is the console, with sound -one of them- and just like the previous one it doesn’t have no guards or barricades around it.

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Opening

It’s half past eight and with the stadium full, all the lights go out. The screaming is infernal and is only subdued by Queen’s music. The stage is illuminated when the huge console of 500 red, green and white lamps is lit alternately. As a dense column of smoke emerges from the floor, the console begins to rise backwards, finally forming the roof of the stage. The effect is achieved and makes the crowd shout even more. Music is the basis of rock and roll. Now we see the musicians. May on the left, Deacon on the right, Mercury on the right, and Taylor with his drums back to the center. On the right you can see the great grand piano that Mercury used several times. The battery is mounted on a three-storey platform with white light spots directed at the public. Above Taylor’s head hangs a huge gong also surrounded by lights, and to his right, a pair of timpanis. Mercury sings “We Will Rock You” in a revamped rock and roll version. The bass supports the tones with astonishing security and the rhythm invites movement. 
Mercury sings like on records, the whole group sounds perfect in a clear, undistorted stereo. It moves with the grace of a contortionist or a classical dancer, always clinging to the microphone reed, a kind of cane that will be used in a thousand ways throughout the show.

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Berry and Hendrix

“Good night, New Orleans,” shouts Mercury and the audience responds enthusiastically. We still can’t react to such a flood of light and sound, when Mercury sits at the piano to attack.
“Somebody To Love”, a beautiful gospel song that allows us to enjoy Queen’s best instrument: their voices. The band threshes the song safe, comfortable, and on the end Mercury plays a solo that stands the audience up. Almost without breathing we passed to one of the top albums in Queen’s career: “A Night At The Opera”. The opening, “Death On Two Legs,” is Brian May’s blunt and overwhelming guitar display. There are probably a dozen guitarists more skilled than him in rock, but very few have the ability, style and imagination that he possesses. His guitar is main part of Queen’s original sound, at times with a rancid and distorted hue and sometimes clear and classic. Almost without stopping they continue with “ Killer Queen”, one of the first successful songs in Buenos Aires. A combination of hard rock with Beatle style vocalizations. The main instrument in this song are the voices of Mercury, Taylor and May. This time the next song “I’m In Love With My Car” is hooked and starts with a heavy riff. Mercury’s voice transforms into Chuck Berry. May makes a very polished solo with a very Hendrix sound (he loves him) and Mercury stands next to him gesturing with the microphone as if he were an imaginary guitarist. At the end he sits at the piano and abruptly the song becomes “Get Down, Make Love”, a true monument to heavy rock. A dense, choppy riff, supported by the piano and the forcefulness of rhythm. Then the stage lights go out and the lights begin to turn on the audience. The lights run through the stage rack in a precise effect. May plays all sorts of effects with his guitar, accompanying Mercury’s vocal acrobatics. The drums explode and the riff repeats itself tirelessly. The next track is “You’re My Best Friend” a moment of tranquility for everyone with this song in the best style of the ‘60s.

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The new trick

We all need a break, but it’s very brief because Mercury announces that the next one is a John Deacon song, using a play on words. He sits at the piano and starts “ Spread Your Wings”, a typical American ballad, with a Mercury deeply inspired by Mc Cartney - isn’t that wonderful? The end is prolonged with the band to all orchestra and the surprise arrives. From the top of the stage, another stage begins to descend with a complete set of drums. The synchronization is perfect, and when the song ends the stage is already installed. The new stage fits perfectly with the platforms located on the sides, leaving the musicians one meter above the audience. May takes the guitar, Taylor sits on this new drum set that has the cover of “ News Of The World” on the drum. That’s how the acoustic set begins. It starts with a very raw, super rancid boogie. With this song we forget certain insecurities in Mercury’s voice, perhaps because of tiredness.
Mercury clarifies that the next track was specially composed for New Orleans and will not be played on tour “Dreamers’s Ball”.The fake trumpet solo is a beautiful parody by Brian May. The audience is delirious and clapping. Everyone participates and the festive atmosphere is increasing. In front of the new stage a curtain of lights is formed that astonishes and gives rise to the jokes of the musicians. The acoustic end is in charge of May and Mercury. Alone, sitting in the middle of the new stage, they sing the beautiful ballad “ Love Of My Life ”. The audience is restless and doesn’t pay much attention to this number. In our country it would have had a sepulchral silence, but they see bands like this every week. 

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Acrobatics and rock

“39” ends this singular set. A correctly played skiffle, where the vocal arrangements replace the bronzes. Everything is dark for a few seconds and when the spots are turned on, May is placed on the left platform and Mercury on the opposite one. They start with the riff of “It’s Late” and the stage rises again. At the right time it allows Deacon and Taylor to be seen on the original stage. May and Mercury descend and the song becomes more intense. Not surprisingly, our astonishment was overcome. Mercury and May constantly cross from one end of the stage to the other. This is democracy, no kid is left without seeing his idol up close. “Fat Bottom Girls’ is the single from Queen’s new album. A song with country airs and a title that… we leave it to the music writer. The beginning of the song is a vocal acrobatics of the four. A resounding display of their ability to sing, with those undulations of the chorus that we thought impossible to hear live. The song comes to life with May’s riff, perfectly marked by Taylor with a crushing tempo. They continue with “Sheer Heart Attack”, an accelerated rock and roll from the LP “ News Of The World”. May’s guitar becomes incisive, crackles and howls. There is one of the most fantastic rock guitarists. Halfway through the song, Mercury leaves the scene for an inspired May. Then a long improvisation begins. First a funky rock that slowly morphs into a total experiment. May uses the Echoplex and we discover that he admires Hendrix without itching. His guitar is multiplied, first by three and then by ten. The notes are scattered throughout the auditorium, filling it with mysticism. Listening to May pull out unimaginable sounds from his guitar, one understands the ‘why of the dispensing of synthesizers in Queen’s music. The guitar replaces the strings, the winds, and the keyboards, of course. Everything is done on the basis of a simple but effective polyphony. May obtains a diabolical combination of sounds between the attack of the strings, in high, with the finger prepared for the intervention of the harmonic, and the dose of saturation and maintenance (sustain). This orchestral concept of the guitar has references in two other great English guitarists: Steve Hackett and Robert Fripp.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Grand Finale

The end of the song is the beginning of another brilliant rock: 
“Keep Yourself Alive,” the opening song of the album “Queen I’. The end is by Taylor, who does some passages on the tom-toms and the timpani, with sound effects of glissando. Mercury leaves the center of the stage. Next to the piano an assistant is waiting for him who has helped him all night by holding him and reaching for the microphone. Freddie sits down and the first bars announce "Bohemian Rhapsody”. The screaming is hellish. Mercury’s piano playing is perfect. 
May does a solo identical to the studio version, and I wonder how they’ll do the opera part… There’s the answer. The stage explodes with smoke and colour and the musicians disappear. The stars are now the lights. The immense, luminous ceiling that covers the stage makes all series of combinations and routes, always synchronized with the music. What my mind associates most quickly to describe what happens, are the images of the film “Close Encounters”. 
But before leaving this hallucination, they magically appear for the rocker ending of “Rhapsody…”. The end explodes of light on the drummer’s stage, with a blinding effect, and Taylor hitting the giant gong, which he uses only in that song. The group disappears and the whole stadium stands up and asks for more. The classic lighters begin to light up in a sign of approval. Some red light bars also appear; similar to those in “Star Wars”, one can’t help but smile at such sophistication. Several minutes pass in which the public kicks the cement until it shakes.
Then they return to the stage to play “Tie Your Mother Down”. We are all standing up and living the ceremony of rock. 
The four of them have changed their clothes. May looks like a fairy with her long hair, her very long body that moves in the wide sleeves of his kimono. 
Mercury is standing on the stage, dancing and gesticulating, until May joins him for his solo. Again the drum lights explode and the band disappears again. Nobody wants to leave, we think they won’t come back. Exactly two hours ago the concert started. 
Yet they return and again a different outfit. They changed for the last two encores, a masterstroke… Taylor’s drums start with a super-heavy beat. It’s “We will rock you ” in its original version. Mercury only sings the first few stanzas, leaving the chorus for the crowd. 
Everyone responds, and this chorus of thousands of throats singing in time moves us to a shiver.
May and Deacon have already embarked on the final phrasing, located on the left side of the stage. Suddenly, on the opposite side, a spotlight 
finds Mercury and starts “We Are The Champions”. Once again, 
you see the crowd supporting the melodious chorus. A great ending. 
The four musicians step forward and bow. With the stage empty, covered with smoke, the lights are lowered again, while the recording of the closing track “A Night at the Opera (God Save The Queen)” is played. 
No one leaves, everyone howls frantically. But Queen won’t be back. Some take comfort in running to buy their T-shirts and badges of the group, which are only sold at concerts.

Article by “Pelo” Magazine, November 1978

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy-deactiv, @briianmaay, @l-over-bo-y, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @darlinginnuendo, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @foxmonkey, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog,
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[i-mybrunettelady]

If you're still taking them; from the soft sentence prompts: “No, sorry, you laughed. I … I never saw it before. It’s — pretty.”

<33

I am! Thank you for submitting an ask <3 You chose a pretty lovely prompt too!

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Lion’s Arch, 1332 AE

It is strange to see Lion’s Arch so empty. Of course, there are a few souls setting shops, cleaners on the street, lovers catching a moment alone, Lionguard patrolling the area, but not as many as it will have later in the day, when the sun rises further and dispels this almost mystical aura Nyra has never been able to fully capture in the city. It’s one of the reasons she didn’t move to Lion’s Arch upon her rise to fame. Besides, Divinity’s Reach is not bad. It’s only that she isn’t home all that often, but it’s okay.

But whether it is Lion’s Arch or Divinity’s Reach, it wouldn’t matter, because she has Trahearne back to walk the streets with. Their hands are joined together, bark against glove, and they walk in silence, but it’s a pleasant sort of silence. It  feels like Zhaitan campaign and their walks around Fort Trinity.

“Do you remember what you told me in Orr?” he suddenly asks, demanding her attention.

“I told you many things in Orr,” she replies vaguely, shaking her head. Her chest feels oddly light; has been since Kralkatorrik’s demise a few days ago.

“You said we never went anywhere nice for dates,” he continues, pointedly ignoring her reply. Nyra wants to see two yellow eyes turn at her, but the wilted leaves on his face are hard to miss and the eye at its centre remains unseeing, dead.

We should both be dead, she thinks. But we’re not. He has dead foliage to show for it, she has her burns. They’ve been remade for each other, a quiet reminder to never part again.

To think I only wanted a little piece of fame when I was nineteen, she thinks. Sometimes, it scares her. It doesn’t today, though. She doesn’t dwell on it.

“Does this count as a nice date, then?” Nyra asks, tilting her head. A stray lock of hair falls on her face, tickles her nose. His thumb runs over hers.

“Does it for you?” Trahearne asks back, suddenly insecure. “I know I suggested it, but if you’d rather do something else, you should’ve said something. Lion’s Arch-”

“Relax, it’s perfect,” she stops, turning to face him. “I never thought I’d have this again. You could take me to those electric Branded rivers and I’d love it.”

“Don’t go into Branded rivers,” he says quietly.

“My eyes can’t turn any more purple, don’t worry,” she says lightly, and his eye goes wide for a split second where she thinks her attempt at joke has gone way too far, and then his laughter fills the quietness of the morning.

Nyra smiles, and it’s a genuine thing. Happiness feels almost foreign, an unknown force coursing through her; celebrations at Fort Trinity come to mind, parades in the Grove and Divinity’s Reach and Hoelbrak and Rata Sum and Black Citadel; him, tipsy, laughing at a norn hunter’s bad joke, the sway in their steps when they’ve had a touch too much of Rytlock’s blood whiskey-

“What?” he says, searching her eyes.

“I never thought I’d hear you laugh again,” she whispers. “Do it again, please. It’s very pretty. Fuck, you’re very pretty when you laugh.”

Faint glow on his cheek brightens. He looks away, squeezes her hand, clears his throat. “Lyss.”

“Trahearne.”

“Only if you laugh with me.”

For the first time in a long while, she feels like she has an actual reason to. “Yes. Laughter is good. Let’s laugh together. And never stop again.”

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Trammander lives in my head rent-free and I don’t mind it one bit. Let them be happy for once, ty