#medic was right: his organs were big and meaty after all

[zarla-s]

and then heavy married that man

[patreon]

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 10

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt 71 “Dont be stubborn. Try it.”

Word Count: 1890

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Thanks @burnsoslow​ for beta reading and pretty much having to drag me across the finish line, as well as all the weeks and weeks of listening to me whine and pity myself.  And @emkay512​ for pre-reading and your encouraging words late Monday that made my whole night.

a/n: this is crack, plain and simple. I haven’t written since mid-october; just been paralyzed with fear over my own writing and this is my practice run and basically the best I could come up with. I’m going to try so so hard to finish this series

The new royal couple, fresh off their Vegas flight, stepped up to a makeshift podium the press had created on the tarmac. It was packed tightly with news station microphones crammed in every nook and cranny, one on top of the other. Voice recorders were spread across its surface, and the crown's private jet served as the backdrop. A bevy of frenzied reporters -- domestic and international -- pushed and elbowed their way into one another in hopes of getting the closest shot of the newlyweds and a chance to have their questions answered first.

“King Liam! Is the marriage binding?”

“How long have you known, Miss Brooks?”

“Were you trying to make a political statement by having a hooker at the ceremony?”

“Your Majesty! Will the monkey be joining your court soon?”

So many questions, most followed by laughter and snickers directed at the King and his bride.

Liam frowned as his eyes dashed side to side in a diligent effort to understand the literally thousands of questions that were lobbed at him all at once. He blinked rapidly as one flash of a camera after the next blinded and bleached his vision. Just as it would return to normal, another successive set of flashes would set him back again.

He had been a part of news conferences since he was a child, when he would watch his late father speak from different parts of the world, near and far, about this policy or that deal. Yet this was different. This was not only the biggest breaking story in Cordonia -- or even Europe -- but one that had swept the world. 

His drunken actions two nights ago, no doubt, would have created a stir; however, it was Maxwell's post on Instagram of the ceremony that now made him tabloid fodder. Everyone knew about the king who was married by his own brother and an Elvis impersonator, the leg-humping monkey that served as a ring bearer, and the chain-smoking, tube-top-wearing prostitute who was the maid of honor. As confident as Liam had been that he could handle this, as he'd dealt with so many other stories of intrigue regarding the monarchy, he couldn't dispel the twisting feeling that burrowed deep into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Madeleine was right: he had become a laughingstock. A failure. Just one big fuck up.

As much as he hated to hear the things said about him, he could deal with it. In the morning, he would call Prince Harry to swap stories, survival tips, and perhaps share a good laugh about it.

It was just ...

Liam felt Riley's tiny hand grip his a little tighter. He wouldn't blame her one bit if his little pussycat turned around and headed back up the steps to the jet and returned to Las Vegas. The only thing Liam wanted to do was keep her shielded from the hurtful comments and insensitive questions. But to his astonishment, she stood there with all the feigned confidence in the world, flashing a big, beaming smile that lit his heart on fire, while staring back at him affectionately. She was handling the situation better than she was before they stepped off the plane. He knew she was doing it for him. God, she just makes everything better. 

Feeling a little more grounded and in control, Liam returned her smile. A touch of radiance sparkled between his eyes and hers, as if it were some sort of unspoken conversation only they understood. Riley knew exactly what he needed at that moment to rise above this scandal they were both being raked over the coals for: He needed her to be okay.

Raising his free hand to calm the crowd so that he might address their concerns, he noticed the press' attention and cameras suddenly shift away from him and into the distance. Murmurs and chatter soon erupted. Naturally, Liam's gaze followed suit -- towards a group of heavily-armed soldiers heading their way. They wore white hazmat uniforms and had self-contained breathing apparatus and personal protective equipment. Leading the charge was a well-dressed gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shiny bald head that glistened with heavy perspiration. 

He walked like he hadn't shit in weeks.

Liam squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. “The hell is that?”

Riley inched closer to Liam and clasped his suit jacket. "What's happening right now? Who are all those people, Liam?"

Liam's forehead creased in puzzlement; he didn't know. Wrapping his arms protectively around Riley, he pulled her even closer but never answered the question. It wasn't until the uniformed men stopped briefly and pointed to Drake, who was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, that it suddenly became clear who they were looking for.

Reporters and onlookers had been so focused on Liam’s return with the American woman, they hadn’t noticed that the brooding Walker had exited the jet last among their posse. Just as everyone had watched replays and snippets of Maxwell’s Instagram video, they were also fully aware the King’s best friend wasn’t exactly returning to Cordonia … healthy … thanks to Maxwell’s Tik Tok sing-along. 

A video Drake Walker had no clue existed. 

 The crowd began to disperse in fear and panic. If men in hazmat suits were needed, they could only assume this went well beyond your casual, run-of-the-mill STD.

Still in no mood to play around, Drake started yelling obscenities and gradually backing away from the hazmat brigade that was closing in on him like a cheetah at a water buffalo hole. 

"Mr. Walker," a heavily echoed voice called out, sounding oddly reminiscent of Darth Vader through their breathing contraption, "we need you to come with us."

"The fuck I do." Drake shook his head emphatically while continuing to slide away from them. "I'll beat the shit out of all of ya if you so much as touch me."

"Now, Mr. Walker, don't be stubborn. Try it, and you'll find yourself with a nice little tranquilizer to the ass. Are you going to come with us willingly, or do we have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?"

Drake stood motionless in disbelief. "I don't even know what you guys want or what you think I did," he squawked with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Tough titties. SEIZE HIM!"

With that order, Drake twisted on the heels of his boots and took off, dodging and weaving away from a bunch of men he had no clue why were even after him. 

He had a pretty good hunch, though, who set this chain of events in motion.

The bald guy in a three-piece suit walked up to Liam and flipped his badge open. "Your Majesty?"

Liam nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the man's credentials. "I am. What is the meaning of all this? What the hell are you doing with Drake?"

"Sir, if you will, it has come to our attention that Mr. Walker is a public health risk and highly contagious. We will have to secure him into our custody at once."

Liam scrunched up his face in utter confusion and stared back at the official before responding, “He just has case of crabs, syphilis, herpes, genital warts, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. You’re treating him like he’s about to start some damn worldwide pandemic. Without sexual contact and with heavy doses of medications and creams, Drake should be able to live a normal life like anyone else. So, as the ruler of this country, I am ordering your men to stand down at once.”

“My apologies, King Liam, but my orders come from the World Health Organization and the United Nations. You'll need to take this up with them. Dr. Wolfschitz was clear on the protocol."

"Dr. Wolfschitz?" Liam questioned as realization quickly set in. He twisted around to face Leo, who had this enormous shit-eating grin, the likes he'd never seen on him before. "You? You did this?"

“Walker messed with the wrong bull, little bro.” Leo stuck up his pointer fingers on both sides of his head with a menacing scowl and smugness in his tone. “Now he gets the horns.”

Liam swatted away one of Leo's finger horns. “This is serious, Leo. Not everything is a joke! You're going to fix this, NOW!"

Leo placed a comforting hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, patting it a few times before speaking softly to him. “Look, I know you’re upset right now. You two were very close. But the Drakester is going to a far better place. There’s a big open field and everything where he can run and play all day with others just like him. And all the meaty bones he can eat too … lucky bastard.”

Riley had to bury her face in Liam’s chest to prevent the laugh that threatened to escape, but the bobbing of her shoulders was something she couldn’t hide. 

“NOW, Leo!” 

Leo tried to hold his ground but was too weak to resist the impatient glare Liam was burning into his soul. After a brief moment, he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Why ya gotta be such a dillhole, Liam? Do you realize you get rattled faster than a two-tit turtle on a tightrope? It's really not your best quality, little brother, but we can work on that." Annoyed, Liam rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned as his brother continued, "Either way, Father always said, ‘if you can't help your fellow man out, you might as well become one of the Walkers.’ Truer words were never spoken so eloquently.”  Leo raised his eyes to the heavens thoughtfully before thinking better of it and lowered them toward the ground. "May you rest in peace, Father," he shouted.

As Leo trotted off to speak with Bald Dude to confess his false claim, Bastien helped guide Liam and Riley through the rambunctious swarm of reporters and spectators. Once they reached the limo, Liam helped Riley inside as Maxwell rounded the vehicle and climbed in on the other side. Pausing for a moment before sliding in, the King placed his hands on top of the open door of the limo and turned one last time to check on his friend. He swallowed hard over the guilt of leaving him behind. As His Majesty watched in horror, Drake took a tranquilizer dart to the back of the thigh and Bastien insisted the area was a security threat, shoving him inside. They would send another car to transport Drake and Leo back to the palace. 

Bastien stomped on the gas pedal and sped off, kicking up dirt and smoke as the tires peeled and squealed against the fiery Cordonian asphalt.

When they passed through the airport's security gate, a small motorcade following closely behind, Liam finally lifted his head, his eyes growing wide when he realized what just happened: Bastien's shove had sent Liam flying across the seat to land face-first into a lap — her lap. 

He stayed frozen in place, unable to look anywhere but the two slender, bronzed legs peeking out below the hem of his new wife's dress. 

Riley lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin dangling from her plush pink lips. "Something you wanna say, Your Majesty?"

Everything that had just happened in the 15 minutes since they landed was long forgotten. Drake who? Liam glanced up with a devilish smirk. "Welcome to Cordonia, Pussycat."

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink

@liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography

@txemrn @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonblooms12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09

Liam x MC only: Cordonia-gothqueen

Anything with Drake: @tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags:  @sanchita012 ​  @narrytheworld ​  @queenwalton   @gabesmommie1130 @cordonianprincess   @liamandneca @emkay512 @waywardromancefantasygirl @nomadics-stuff @queendianaofcordonia @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @kat-tia801 @drrookie @sfb123

[sharpen-jadescythe]

Operation Kitten, 1

Part One: The real story of what happened after Sharpen punched Mathias Shaw in the face. Continuation of the other SI:7 Seal story LOL

Jiroki, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. That the problem with Lux’ana Queenwing, a member of your guild posing as someone else? Yes, that can be traced back to me. But one upshot of this situation is, I finally get to be honest with you about something I was holding back. Not because I started things with us in a lie—no I would never do that unless lives depended on it. And they did, actually. I was protecting a lot of people so that’s why I didn’t tell you or anyone the full story, about me. Maybe that sounds like a lie a lover would tell you when he just happens to um, secretly be SI:7. Every time there’s a problem in your romance, he goes ‘Look baby, I had to lie to you in order to save lives.’ And I do know some agents like that. Those guys who use their jobs as an excuse, they’re filth. I guess if you think I’m filth too, I wouldn’t blame you. However, this is the truth. Alessandre and I were both trying to save Lux’ana’s life and the lives of her flock when she walked up to you that day and asked to join the Greyshields like it was nothing. Like Alessandre was just her friend and I had nothing to do with it. But it was part of a much bigger operation, love. Like you wouldn’t believe...

Al instructed me to pretend like I didn’t know Lux’ana, never met her. Al was going to serve as her reference. But now that cover of ours has unraveled some, and so much time has passed? I am going to tell you the truth. The real truth. Okay so, I’ll start at the beginning.

It's dangerous to talk about my work, so usually they give you a story to tell other people instead—not that this is it. I’m telling you everything, even my part in it. I’ve been called a himbo before, that sometimes I make dangerous or stupid decisions. But I see no point in lying to a woman I care so deeply for. I made some promises to you that I intend to keep. Just know that SI:7 gave me another version of my recruitment story, that I failed the swim test. That they threw me in a carriage for punching Mathias Shaw on the beach and sent me home. I embellished a little and said I got to keep the swim trunks. Because I look so damned fetching in that little blue and gold speedo, I guess my vanity sold me out a bit. It was a poor excuse for still having them anyway—as if SI:7, as powerful as that organization is, would let some recruit walk away with their standard issue uniform, even a… choice part of it, just to wear at pool parties. No, you can get picked up and arrested for that, seriously.

There’s a scene I was instructed to leave out, because my situation with them stayed tenuous even after my first mission. Yes, I did punch Mathias actually. That’s still true. But they didn’t give me a free ticket home with no muss nor fuss. That’s the part they asked me to tell my friends. What actually happened is they hogtied me, shipped me all the way out to Boralus which was the center of things at the time, then put me in a holding cell. After leaving me to cool down for a few days, they brought me before the man himself.

They brought me more standard issue stuff to wear, some loose cloth pants and a shirt. I was mad, and wanted some way to mess with them, so I ripped the shirt sleeves off. Which was a bit foolish, I guess. It does get pretty cold in Boralus. Shaw and the others had a barracks set up on the east side of town, close to the damp docks. Close to the Alliance ship docked there and all the cough-cough, handsome fair winds flowing in from the sea, if you know what I’m saying. (Fairshaw’s totally a thing, but you didn’t need an SI:7 Seal to reveal that secret to you. All I’m sayin’.)

To my surprise, they sent me in to see the head man without shackles on my wrists. I had a tight escort—this big Kul Tiran named Big Mack who took up almost the entire hallway, but I did also note that it was just one man and they’d fed me this whole time, treated me well, let me go out into the practice yard for exercise. They just didn’t let me mix with any of the other recruits. And another thing I noticed, all the people I’d trained with were gone. Even that annoying Dwarf guy Hael who couldn’t save himself in the water, let alone from being an obnoxious Dwarf stereotype, being loud and trying to get me drunk the night before the swim test and all that. (In fact, I think I remember telling him that, that he was playing up the Dwarf thing so much I was starting to wonder what he was trying to prove?) So anyway they dropped us all off the coast of Northrend, near Honor Hold, gave us the swim test and they all graduated, even that fool who tried to hang on my back like I was a Night Elf-sized wading board, and drown me in shark-infested waters? Geesh, what a world.

I teased Big Mack, said he looked like he wanted a sandwich. I mean, come on, how big did this guy really need to be?

“Hrmph. Need a third man for that, if it’s a real offer you’re making.”

I blinked. I… was Big Mack coming on to me? He laughed, and yes he did a good job of scaring the pants off me. Let’s not think about me, Big Mack and my pants off. Anyway…

Mostly, I was sullen. I hadn’t shaved in days. My green beard was scruffy and I knew my long dark green hair was kinda bedhead, too. If I didn’t get released right away, I was fully prepared to do something I promised myself I would never ever do, wherever I worked, no matter how tough things got—but damned if I was going to let them lock me up for no real reason, even if it was in the recruit’s barracks. If things were truly rough, then I was going to name drop my sister Wisthera Bane. They knew about her, of course, she was a master rogue in a leading Kaldorei spy organization. But they needed to understand that I was at the point of leveraging my sister and all her connections. Alessandre’s too, if I needed. He was a top assassin as I understood it. He helped run the Kaldorei Rogue Network with her, and they only really reported to High Priestess Tyrande and the Shando, Malfurion himself. Not the Alliance. Well, the Alliance wasn’t their first stop anyways. The Kaldorei people came first.

Big Mack rather roughly pulled out a metal chair for me and pointed with a meaty finger for me to sit. I had a little shock at first, seeing the important man I had punched waiting for me on the other side of the table. Arms crossed, that certain smirk on his face beneath that clipped brunette moustache, but this time, Mathias Shaw had a black eye. Well, it was more of a gray eye by now. The medics had it healing up nicely.

“You don’t just punch a man like Mathias Shaw in the face and get away with it.”

“Well.” I was stunned to be facing him. But I knew from our training that you never showed you were intimidated. However, I’d learned that from before in life anyway. “How do you punch a man like Mathias Shaw? Maybe next time I’ll stand my ground, should’ve stayed standing over you on the beach while you were flat out like a light.”

Mathias uncrossed his arms, sat up right in his chair. “Alright, Seal. You’ve had your word in. I’m letting you have your personality because it’s useful to us. Your freedom of speech in this situation is in my gift—you do get that, right?”

“I’m not an SI:7 Seal. I failed my test.”

“Did you, though?” Mathias cocked his head at me, smirking anew. So this was his revenge, the hitch. Why he was able to smile at me even with that black eye. Mathias was giving me the one thing that I hated most of all.

“I did so fail that swim test.”

“I’m not sure that’s how tests work? Right? I mean… doesn’t the teacher grade you? And if the teacher isn’t sure, then doesn’t the pass-fail decision fall to the headmaster? How exactly do those Kaldorei schools work, that you still don’t know?”

“Interesting line of inquiry, sir. But I’m immune to insults coming out of the mouth of a man that I punched.”

“Hold on now—we’re going in circles. Relax.”

I guess I did have my hackles all the way up already. I let my big shoulders sink down, took easier breaths. I glanced back over to see Big Mack still standing in the room by the door. I gave Mathias a look, that after everything, he wanted a bodyguard in my presence.

Shaw folded his hands on the table. “Yes, SI:7 has a reputation for letting some big arseholes in. Arseholes who bungle missions because they’re really in it for the gold, the chance to retire early after body-breaking work and then start up their own businesses. Security agencies and the like.”

“Yes! After only one year of service! Maybe two? But how does that serve the Alliance?”

Mathias nodded at me, that it was all true. But he also looked weary. That wasn’t a part of his organization, they way it was run, that he condoned. “If men get tired, we have to let them go. We can’t force them. And there’s this pipeline of ex-pats helping their buddies and the sons and daughters of their buddies to join up, just to make even more money. We’re trying to break that down from the inside. No offense, but Kaldorei don’t tend to rub each other’s backs like that. So, we’re aggressively recruiting your people. And before you think of threatening me with intervention from your sister in the Kaldorei Rogue Network, we know all about them. In fact, I made them, Wisthera and Alessandre. And the third triumvir rogue, Mistress Myrielle Fadeleaf? I trained her as well.”

I pointed his way, “Not how my sister tells it.”

He rolled his eyes, “Anyway. You’re young, you’re new to spywork. And seems it runs in your family. We recruited you because of your sister, Sharpen. You’re not going to catch us out with that, it was one of the main reasons. SI:7 didn’t go into it blindly.”

“But you just said!” I floundered for a moment, realizing my parachute was gone. “Corruption, back-scratching is rife in SI:7! That whole recruitment experience—nightmare—is not something I want to repeat in the field. I won’t serve!”

Mathias stayed calm, sucked his teeth and looked up thoughtfully before he spoke. Like he was indulging me. “Now. I don’t want to call you a himbo. I don’t wanna hurt your feelings. But let’s say that, unlike your sister, you are a man who would take orders. You would do it for the greater good, you would be incorruptible in that way. Sharpen, didn’t I just explain to you that I’m sick of the bad guys inside our organization? I want a real man. You.” He pointed at me with both hands, thumbs up like he was attempting to sell me a horse, fast. “You are a real man, Sharpen Jadescythe. A man we can depend on.”

[givemefic]

Chapter One: Sold

Title: Accepting Fate, Denying Destiny

Author: GiveMeFic

Fandoms: All for the Game/Harry Potter

Characters: All for the Game Crew, Harry Potter

Relationships: Canon AftG, Harry Potter/???

Rating: Explict, MA

Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence, Torture, Sexual Themes/Acts, Abuse of all kinds so be mindful (More to come I’m sure.)

Summary: Sold off at the tender age of five by his abusive uncle, and then again at ten, Harry Potter learned that life would always find a way to fuck you over.

~

“Because,” Kevin swallowed hard, “he starts this year.”

“Who?” Matt slung his arm over Dan’s shoulders. “Stop being so cryptic.”

He tapped his cheek, the number two stark against his skin. “Why do you think Jean is number four?”

Dan and Wymack both straightened. “Wait, so the third in your little cult court is going to play this year?”

“How can you be so sure?” Wymack asked.

“He’s the right age. And I heard that he came back to the Nest last year after I—“ He choked on his words. “After I left.”

CHAPTER ONE: SOLD

The boy shivered in the car, the warmth from the drive with his Uncle Vernon this morning had long since been replaced by the cold from the snow and freezing rain. He looked at the building his uncle had gone into. He hadn’t come back, and the boy winced when he felt like he was going to shake out of his skin.

“Don’t you dare get out or be seen, boy!” He’d almost recoiled from the hand that reached back, but he knew that the second hit was always harder if he did. Cheek blooming red and tender, the boy nodded and had been there, curled up in the floorboard ever since.

Only now he couldn’t stand it anymore. So he popped up, saw the lot empty of people, and he snatched his cousin’s spare coat from the back of the car. Dudley was three times his size, so the puffy coat was like a blanket. He stayed curled up and with practiced ease, the boy ignored his cramped stomach and fell into a light sleep.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but he came awake, trying to hold still. The door opened and the boy cringed under the coat.

“What the—“ The coat was ripped away. He looked passed his uncle and the sky had darkened and the snow wasn’t falling anymore. “Get out here, boy!” A meaty hand took him by the arm and the boy found himself falling out of the car and onto the now dirty snow covered ground. “Well, here he is.”

Lifted and barely able to stand on his own feet, the boy held back a cry as his shoulder was wrenched higher. One of his too big shoes fell off.

“He doesn’t look like much, tiny thing.”

He opened his eyes and saw a few people standing before his Uncle Vernon. Two men were outside a very nice looking town car. It was left running and the back door was open.

“Don’t let his size fool you, he works hard and listens well enough. Don’t you?” He shook the boy again and he couldn’t stop a whimper at the pain, nor his now bare foot was slipping in the snow. “You said,” Vernon cleared his throat and continued on in the same kind of polite voice he’d heard his uncle use when talking to his boss on the phone at home. “You said this would be enough to clear my debts.”

“Yes,” drawled the man in a heavy wool peacoat. “That’s if we find him suitable. Let him go.”

He fell to his feet and couldn’t stop himself from sliding to his knees. The overly large shorts, almost long enough to be pants on the boy, soaked through. He looked up at the strangers.

“Those eyes,” the other murmured. He took a cigarette out and lit it. “How old are you?”

He looked to Vernon and trembled.

His uncle answered, “He’s five.”

“Where did you find him? You claimed his parents are dead?”

“Yes,” Vernon spat. “My worthless sister-in-law and her husband got themselves killed when he was one. He was dropped on us and we’ve put up with him since.”

The man in the coat squatted down and leaned in to look closely at his face. “Any records?”

“None.”

“Medical?”

Vernon scoffed. “I wouldn’t waste money on him at a doctor.”

The coat man’s mouth thinned and the boy tensed, waiting for a rage filled hit or shove. Only he stood up and with practiced ease, lifted the boy from the ground and settled him on his hip. “Want to see, sister?”

From the open car door, a woman’s hand waved them over. It was dark in the car and the boy couldn’t see anything beyond the lit end of a cigarette. “He’s small, but seems willing to listen. Don’t you, young man?”

At first the boy didn’t know what to say, but the man holding him gave him a little bounce and raised an eyebrow. So he nodded and said, “Yes, Ma’am. My ears work good. Even though Uncle says they don’t.”

The other man burst into chuckles and the one holding him smiled. “Bit of an attitude too.”

Vernon was sputtering and took a step toward them with a shaking finger and a red face. “Listen to me to you loathsome brat—“

“That’s enough.” They cut Vernon off and stepped between him and the boy. “What’s his name?”

The boy frowned and said, “Freaks don’t get names.”

It was silent for a moment, then the woman spoke from the darkness. “Don’t they?”

“No, Ma’am.” He shook his head.

Vernon cleared his throat and with a croak he said, “It’s Harry. Harry Potter.”

The man holding him slid into the car while the other finished talking to Vernon and the b— Harry’s eyes widened when he saw the man backhand his uncle. He cringed into the lap of the woman he’d been passed to. He didn’t want to see what Vernon was going to do to the stranger. Only a moment later the door shut and when he peaked out, Harry saw both men sitting across from him and the smoking lady.

“Well, Harry,” she said, “welcome to the family.” He could now see in the dim lights of the street as they pulled away, that she was a very pretty lady. Her blonde hair was he same shade as Aunt Petunia’s, but longer and wavy. “I’m Mary Hatford. What do you think about coming to live with me now?”

“Mary?” The smoking man leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”

Her hand came up and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the hit. Only her fingers crept into his hair and gently detangled the mess. “I’m taking him with me back to Boston, Stuart.”

“What for?” Stuart tossed the butt of his now finished cigarette out the cracked window. “He’s small, we could use him as a runner. I bet you’re petty quick, eh, Harry?”

Harry nodded, dislodging Mary’s hand. “I run a lot faster than Dudley and his friends. And! I fit under the rose bushes! I don’t care about getting scratched, but Dudley always cries if the thorns bite him.” He reached down and rubbed at his bare foot. It had begun to tingle from the heat of the car.

Mary leaned forward and saw what he was doing. She pulled a coat from behind her and draped it over him, tucking his legs and feet into the warmth. “He’s coming with me. Abram could use a playmate.”

Harry frowned. “Who’s that?”

“My son,” Mary said. “He’s all alone in our big house.”

“He doesn’t have no friends too?”

“Doesn’t have any friends,” Stuart corrected. “And Mary, I don’t…” He lit another cigarette and sighed out a plum of smoke. Harry wiped at his eyes when they stung as the smoke filled the car. “Aren’t you worried about—“

“It’ll be fine,” Mary insisted. “Don’t you want to come live in a big house, Harry? My son is your age too.”

Harry blinked and asked, “Is your cupboard big enough for me?”

“Cupboard?”

He nodded. “For me to sleep. I’m not scare of spiders.”

Mary closed her eyes. When she opened them, she looked down at him and said, “I think we can do better than a cupboard. How about your own room?”

“Mary,” the other man finally spoke up, “what will your dear husband say about this? He barely tolerates his own son.” He waved at Harry. “What do you expect will happen with him?”

Mary bit her lip and Harry pulled her coat up higher to his shoulders. “I’m doing what I can to protect him, William.” She stroked Harry’s hair again. “If that means sacrifices, then so be it.”

“Um,” Harry huddled down and asked, “where do you live? Is it far, far from Uncle Vernon?”

“So very far away,” Mary promised. “I’m leaving tonight to head back. I need to make sure Abram is alright.”

“Still can’t believe that arsehole made you leave him behind,” Stuart grumbled.

“Collateral.”

Mary glared at William for his comment. “I needed to come back, to get away and help settle things here with father… I’ve got some people watching him for me. It’s only been three days.”

“A lot can happen in three days.” William sighed. “But, maybe your new whipping boy will help ease your heart.”

“I will protect Abram above anything else,” Mary said, and Harry trembled at the anger in her voice. “And Harry here, he’s going to help me. Right, lovely?”

He hesitated, but said, “I’m too small to help pro-prot...”

Mary leaned over and tapped his nose. “You’re just the right size. But you’ll have to do some things that might be scary. Or even hurt. I promise to make sure you have lots of things to eat, and a soft place to sleep at night. But you have to make sure Abram is safe. Can you do that? It’s a big job.”

Harry looked at Stuart and William, but both of them were looking out the windows. So he nodded. He’d been hurt a lot before, but at least this time there would be a reason. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would never say why they hurt him, they just screamed and threw things, or beat him.

He could make sure Abram was ok. Mary seemed nice, and he wanted to go far away from his family. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She smiled, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“You’re going to be perfect, Harry. They’ll love you.”

[whumpitywhumpwhump]

Here’s Mafia Week Day 5! Prompt: “Prove your loyalty.”

The new recruit sitting in Beck’s office kept shifting and glancing around, as though he expected Pat himself to jump out of nowhere and start quizzing him. Beck watched him from across the desk, chin propped up by one arm. The kid was young, almost as young as Beck himself had been when he joined up, so Beck tried to think of the advice he would have wanted when he was new—what did no one think to tell him?

“So, advice, that’s what I’m supposed to give you, right?”

The kid nodded, then ran a hand over his shaved-down hair.

“Ok. First thing, then. Don’t ask questions. Especially not if you’re dealing with Pat himself. To quote a fellow member of the organization, when Pat tells you to shoot, you don’t ask where or how many times—you just shoot. If he needed you to have more information, he’d give it.” Beck was never big on questions himself and it had served him well in his years serving Pat.

The kid frowned, dark brows sliding together.

“What?”

“I just—I know it’s stupid, but I feel like he doesn’t like me? Like, yeah, he let me in the organization, but every time I see him he glares, like he’s waiting for me to mess it all up somehow.”

“He doesn’t dislike you. He just doesn’t trust you, which brings me to the second thing. In my opinion, this is the most important thing you’ll ever do in your time with Pat. You need to make a good impression early—do something perfectly for him, prove your loyalty. Even better if it’s something you personally care a lot about, because he loves to see that dedication. It’ll let him know that you’re serious and he should treat you as such.”

“But how do I know what will prove my loyalty? What did you do?”

“I saved his nephew’s life, jumped in front of a bullet. Apparently, selflessness goes a long way when it’s in the interest of the boss and his kin.”

He wasn’t lying to the kid—he had taken a bullet for Simon, not long after they’d first met. Simon had been running a negotiation with the Connell family over lunch at a bookshop uptown, and Beck was supposed to observe from the background and act as backup only if absolutely necessary. Three other people were also stationed around for the same job, but they were all more experienced people, higher up in the organization.

Things had been going well the entire night, and then, as Louis Connell slid their deal across the table, Beck saw the flash of silver. The man was pulling a gun from his pocket—there was no time for warning—Beck took off running and dove across Simon’s lap. Dishes went sliding off the table, smashing; the other three guys pointed their weapons, and Louis pulled the trigger, burying his bullet a few inches deep in Beck’s back as he flew past, tackling Simon to the floor with him.

The two of them had crawled under the table, and Simon put pressure on Beck’s wound, but it wasn’t then what it was now, between them. There was no rush of warmth to any place their skin touched, no blushing smiles or soft kisses. Beck couldn’t even remember, at the time, if Pat’s nephew was called Sam or Simon, so he just never used his name.

There was a shootout above them. Two of Pat’s men down, but all of the Connell’s. When their ride came to pick them up, they took the remaining backup, along with Simon and still-bleeding Beck, back to Pat’s house. There, a doctor had stitched him up and given him some medication with no name on the label. After he was feeling a bit better, Pat came up to see him.

“That was good job you did today. I’ve heard you’re the reason I still have nephew.” He paused, and maybe Beck had imagined it, but the older man seemed to despise him just a little less.

Of course, once he’d saved Simon’s life, he couldn’t get rid of him. Simon would go out of his way to bring Beck along for different operations and hyped him up to Pat as often as possible. That got Beck in Pat’s good graces very quickly—he respected his nephew, because Simon was such a good judge of character. Saving Simon that day was the only reason he’d made it this far in the organization.

Beck sighed to himself, because Simon might also be the reason the organization turned on him. If this recruit would hurry up and leave his office, he could be on his way to the Connell hideout, to break in and steal back the case. A risky move, but one that might pay off for both of them.

“So I should try to save someone?”

“Yeah, I guess. Or something like that. Like if you were caught by our rivals, keeping your mouth shut under pressure might earn his respect, or if you get particularly good dirt that we can use as leverage against someone. Stuff like that, big moves.”

“And if nothing like that comes up?”

“Trust me, it will.”

The recruit nodded, lips pressed in concentration, like he was committing Beck’s every word to memory. It was rather unsettling to watch.

“That’s the basics, so that’s where we’ll stop for today. Be here tomorrow, same time, and we’ll start in on schmoozing—how to butter up the legal types you work with.”

The kid jumped up, thanked him vigorously, and left. As soon as he was out of sight, Beck grabbed his backpack and rushed out the door.

Laying down in the backseat of his own car, he wriggled out of his work clothes, and managed to pull on a larger, baggier set of black clothes. It would distort his shape and keep him from being too distinct. He then put in the fake contacts Simon had given him—very dark brown, to cover up his natural green. He completed the change with a brown wig, which fit neatly over his curls. He’d never done anything even remotely like this—he did bribery and leverage, not breaking and entering, but it’s what Simon needed him to do.

He slid out, fully changed, and tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants, pulling his jacket to hang down over it. With a click, he locked his car, then tucked the keys in at the top of the tire, where they were hidden from sight by the body of the vehicle—taking them with him seemed too risky.

He set off for the Connell base—Josie’s diner. With any luck, he’d be in and out of there before Simon arrived.

 He slid in the back door no problem. All he had to do was swipe a box of lettuce and say he was delivering it, and they let him walk right in. There was no need for high security at a place like Josie’s because everyone in town knew it was Connell territory and their sometimes-home base, so who in their right mind would try to break in or cause trouble there?

He set the lettuce down amidst similar produce in the kitchen, then quickly darted into a long hallway that wound off further into the building. Following it’s twists and turns led him to a flight of stairs going straight down into the pitch black. If he could guess from the vague odor of gunpowder and cigars wafting up to him, the place he needed to check out would be down there.

Beck crept silently down the stairs, eyes adjusting the dark slowly. When he reached the bottom, he could make out, vaguely, that he was in a basement, all one room. There were large pieces of furniture scattered about, but he couldn’t make anything out clearly.

He stood on the bottom step, thinking out a plan to find the briefcase down here. Perhaps if he crept back up the stairs and pushed the door a little further open, enough light would filter down for him to search by? Or maybe he could risk turning on the light—but would he be able to find the case before anyone noticed the lights?

Wood groaned behind him, barely audible. He spun around, saw a dark shape coming up fast—it connected with his forehead, his body stumbled back off the step, and spots swirled across his vision.

He couldn’t help but groan when the lights were flicked on. Through squinted eyes, he made out Jackson Connell standing over him, holding what looked like a two by four.

“Who are you, and what are you doing creeping around here?”

Beck kept his lips firmly shut.

“I said, who the fuck are you?” The man punctuated his question with a kick to his stomach.

The air rushed out of Beck with a small gasp, but he just stared at the stairs, ignoring the words. Another kick, this one harder, slammed into his gut. He didn’t even put hands up to protect himself—it wasn’t worth it yet. Kicks were fine, he could handle that.

Heavy footsteps coming down the stairs announced the arrival of another Connell, this one a stranger to Beck. He watched the large man warily as he approached.

“Who’s this fucker?”

“Hasn’t said yet. You wanna ask him?”

The big guy nodded, and grabbed a fistful of Beck’s hair, lifting him off the ground. The man slammed him against the wall, hard enough that his teeth knocked against each other.

“Name?”

Beck just gave the man a cold glare. The man nodded, then dropped him to the floor. Before he could get his bearings, a boot connected with his ribs, then another.

The kicks came too quickly for him to do anything other than take it. One particularly hard kick left a flash of hot pain, brighter than the other future bruises, and he grunted. That spotted throbbed with every pant in or out.

A second blow connected with that same spot, and he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. It was getting harder to keep sucking in full breaths of air, and his chest was starting to ache, so he curled up tighter and tried to put his arms between his body and the assailants.

The big man was not having that, however. He grabbed Beck’s arm and used it to pull him to his feet. Then he delivered a hefty punch to his chest, and the air was knocked out his lungs. As he gasped harshly, the man pushed him across the room, sending him stumbling into a table.

The man shoved him into a seat and grabbed his arms. Still struggling with getting a full breath, Beck could do nothing as the man clicked handcuffs shut around his wrists, then circled around him.

“Now, you’re gonna tell us your name and why you’re here.”

Beck put on a lopsided grin, and the man swung his meaty fist. As it collided with Beck’s jaw, all he could think was that he had failed Simon, and Pat was going to kill them both.        

[austinpanda]

Dad Letter 030120

1 March, 2020

Dear Dad--

Seems like it’s almost spring now, in the south, although we were still at 6 degrees this morning, and my car was covered with lacy frost. I still love how cold it is here. I have to wear two long-sleeved layers at home to be comfortable (otherwise we burn too much kerosene, which is expensive) and I just find it so much easier to think than when I’m hiding indoors from the heat and the air conditioning is running constantly. Perhaps I wouldn’t be so hard-wired to enjoy cold climates if I’d been raised here, but for now, it’s still fuckin’ magical, and I love it! 

Had a very good job interview this past week at Penquis. It took me until after the interview before I figured out where the name “Penquis” came from. At first, I thought it was an organization founded by some guy named Joe Penquis, but then I typed the names of the three counties that Penquis serves, and figured it out: Penobscot, Piscataquis, and Knox counties. It’s the beginning of PENobscot and the end of PiscataQUIS. When I finally snapped to that, I felt pretty smart. 

The interview went fairly well. We sat at a big conference table and two women tag-teamed me with the usual questions. “What are your strengths?” “What would your last manager say about you?” “Have you ever had any interaction with this kind of social services organization before?” I got to tell them that, yes, since moving to Maine, I’d been enrolled in MaineCare. This gave me an opportunity to impress the shit out of them. I figured they’d be in favor of people using this kind of social service, generally, because they ARE this kind of social service! And this allowed me to say that I wasn’t glad to move to a new state and immediately go on the dole for healthcare, but that it also wasn’t in anybody’s best interest for me to be without medication I need (they nodded a lot) and that it was my strong belief that “need” isn’t weakness, and it isn’t indicative of failure (nods nods nods, hey, this guy can articulate his passionate beliefs, woo-hoo, etc.) and I think they were very impressed by that. They were equally impressed by my other-worldly typing speed, and I think they appreciate the fact that it’s always handy to have one person around who knows what semicolons are for, and where the apostrophe is supposed to go, and how to get the phrasing just right. 

So I may be working for a place called Penquis soon. If I’ve already mentioned that it’s a naughty word with a superfluous “QU” stuck in the middle, it’s also delightfully close to the word “Penguins.” And my job would have a summer break! Since my job would be for the home heating assistance program, my job would evaporate like a snowball in the summertime. They asked if I had any problem with what amounted to summer unemployment, and I said, “It occurs to me that teachers have been doing it forever now, right? I certainly can find something to do, whether a temp job or whatever.” They also mentioned that I’d probably qualify for unemployment during that period. I think that aspect of the job is awesome, and it makes me want the job more!

I should find out whether I got the Penquis job by early this week, so possibly as soon as tomorrow. I could be wrong, but I really think I got it. A small part of me thinks the women who interviewed me liked me so much that they now want to marry me, and bear me many children, and take to their smelling salts whenever I narrow my eyes at them. But it’s also possible that this is a stupid guy-centric way of looking at it, and they weren’t thinking any of the sort. I can’t help the fact that my salt and pepper hair and beard make me look like an irresistible, if meaty, George Clooney. As the rock star once said about his own gorgeous ass, “I don’t claim to understand it. I’m only its servant.”

Here’s a nice thing that’s happened. Ever since we moved here, we’ve been cursed with a very meager supply of hot water. Taking a shower has stopped becoming a thing of relaxing cleansing, and has become a thing of quick, nervous scrubbing before the water goes cold. It sucked! We only had hot water for about four minutes worth of shower time, and that meant you couldn’t wash your hair in the shower, or shave while you shower, because there wasn’t enough time. Being in a cold state, and stepping out of a cold shower into a cold bathroom is just...cold.

But two nights ago, a glorious thing happened: Our water heater burst, and died! Something gave way, and water started gushing out of it, and into the spare bedroom. If we hadn’t been at home, and if we hadn’t been wandering around wondering where the sound of rushing water was coming from, we might not have caught the leak before it did some real damage. As it was, we were able to spring into action: Zach started removing the screws from the little door that covers the space in the spare bedroom wall where you access the water heater. I called the landlord. They said they’d send someone around right away, and could I please try to turn the water off that’s feeding to that heater, so it doesn’t flood the room? With a bit of trial and error, I found the valve to turn off the cold water feeding to the tank and stopped the leaking (making me the hero, obviously.). 

So that sucked. But! They sent a guy around. He examined the water heater. He made a phone call and said, “Yeah, wow, it blew out the whole lower unit,” which sounded serious. Long story short: within a couple of hours, he’d fetched another (used) water heater, and installed it. It looked newer, and clean. It was a Whirlpool. It was full-sized and looked serious. And it works! 

Now, we have what I’d call a normal amount of hot water. Zach has tested this by taking a few long showers, and said he has yet to run out of hot water. This is a serious improvement to our lives. In fact, you now have to use a lot more cold water to balance out the hot water, because the hot water alone is hot enough to melt your face off. But at last, we can shower like normal people again! The only drawback is that the maintenance fellow left the old water heater in the spare bedroom. He said he’d send “the guys” around on Monday with “the trailah,” (cause here, men sound like the Pepperidge Farm cookies spokes-curmudgeon) and they’d haul it away. The spare bedroom is pretty small, so the big, old, filthy water heater that’s sitting in the middle of the room kind of dwarfs everything else. No worries. I have cleaned around the water heater. It’s the cat’s room, anyway, until we get a spare bed. Anyway, hot showers again. Wonder what the poor people are doing, etc. 

A weird weather thing happened! One day last week, we had been forecast a heavy snowstorm, up to 12 inches. As the day of the snow neared, however, the snow chances dropped and dropped, eventually hitting “none.” Needless to say, Zach and I felt tremendously screwed, because we still haven’t had a significant snowstorm yet. But the city of Bangor, and the city of Old Town (where we live), and the city of Orono (across the street from us, containing the big university) all shut down anyway! It was weird! For some of the day, it rained slush. But mostly it was just cold and damp. And everyone shut down! I swear, we went to Dairy Queen for a treat that night (and I can’t believe there’s a Dairy Queen near us in Old Town, Maine, but there is) and the Dairy Queen shut down while we were waiting in line. They still served us, but they stuck a note on the window saying they were closing at 6:00 pm due to weather. There was no weather! By that point it wasn’t even precipitating; it was just cold! 

I think that means I just witnessed a whole city, and its surrounding towns, rebelling en masse against the lack of a snow day that they felt like they got cheated out of! I think the schools, municipal offices, and other businesses all thought they’d get a day off work, because of unsafe driving conditions. Then, when the driving conditions turned out to be just fine, they collectively said, “Fuck you, sunshine,” and closed up shop anyway. It’s weird being in line at Dairy Queen and all the outside lights go off, and everyone inside is running around frantically because they’re excited that they’re going home early. They literally asked me, “Do you want lids?” To which I said, “...I’m sorry, do I want what?” They wanted to know if we wanted lids on our Blizzards (our frozen milkshake things). Since it seemed she wanted very badly for me to not require a lid, I told her, “Nah, we’re fine without lids.” And we were. Perhaps it would have taken too long for her to obtain a lid. Obviously, working in food service requires lots of high-pressure decision making. 

I’ll sign off now, but you’ll probably see the bluebonnets soon! All my love to you both!

[shinymills]

Phantom Eye Syndrome

The first time I noticed something was off was not long after I was fitted with a prosthetic eye. I'd been in a car accident about seven months ago, I walked away from it, obviously, but it fucked my face up pretty badly - my right eye in particular.

Anyway, the day that I got my eye started our pretty great. I was pretty psyched about not wearing an eyepatch anymore - I didn't have to, but the sight of my empty socket had sent my little nephew into a crying fit, made me feel like shit, and I'd been wearing one since.

Not to sound too like a complete cliche, but that day the sun had been shining, birds had been singing, I had been singing ... cats had been running because I had been singing, but they're judgmental little fuckers anyways, so who cares.

It was only after the visit, on my way home, that things started to get a little odd. Close your eyes. Now move them around a bit. You know how you could feel them moving under your eyelid? That's what I felt the entire drive home, under my right eye. So yeah, when I got home I called my doctor right away all "The hell, man?".

After a bit of confusion on his part, he assured me that it was just my mind playing tricks on me, like phantom limb syndrome, but, yanno, with my goddamned eye. This surprised the hell out of me because, until that day, I hadn't felt anything like that. I was pretty quick to point out to the doctor. He didn't have any helpful answers beyond, to paraphrase, "The brain's a weird pile of meat, dude." Very helpful.

That odd fluttering sensation continued off and on for several weeks. It was annoying as hell, but not actually painful, and after a while I got used to it. Even managed to forget it was even happening sometimes. Eventually, nearly a month after it first started, it actually stopped happened, and I thought that was the end of it.

Yeah, that was, in fact, not, the end of it. A few days after the fluttering stopped, I started noticing dark, blurry blobs - but only from what would have been my right field of vision. Understandably, this confused the fuck out of me, and again I called my doctor to reiterate my earlier question with a, "Seriously, the hell, man?"

Which he very unhelpfully answered with another, "For real dude, the brain's a big, weird mess of meaty goodness." I mean, he obviously didn't say those exact words, it was a bunch of medical gobbledygook that explained fuckall, but that was what it boiled down to.

Suffice to say, I was feeling pretty frustrated at that point, and a bit annoyed because those blurry blobs were everywhere I looked. A hell of a lot harder to ignore than the fluttering had been. Like, a lot harder. But I tried my best because apparently, that was my life now.

Weeks passed like that, me trying my best at first to ignore the blobs, and failing utterly, and then just trying to adjust to them being there, better success. That was about when they started growing ... Clearer. More distinct. Like, not all of a sudden, yanno?

But with each day that passed they came more and more into focus, like they had been objects that had been far away or something, and were finally just coming into focus. With each day they grew clear I noticed more and more about them, and got steadily more freaked out.

The blobs, well they were still blobs. But, like, I don't know how to fucking describe it. Okay, imagine like ... Imagine for whatever reason you decided to go to a slaughterhouse, right? And you just gathered up aaallll the meat and shit in there. All the organs, all the viscera, all the organs, hell even all the literal shit, and bones, and teeth, and fucking eyes.

And then imagine you took all that, decided you wanted to apply as maybe the personal sculptor for Satan himself or something and just smushed this shit all together into shapes that sorta resembled the end result of what would happen if a praying mantis and a squid met in a bar, got drunk as hell, and decided that the other looked kinda hot - and then draped it all over people who for some fucking reason were cool with it.

   Yeah, that was probably the worst part, those things, they were everywhere, on everyone. And no one fucking noticed. I could see what looked like it was maybe part of a spine at one point, maybe? Look I'll be the first to admit I don't much about anatomy, but it looked a lot like a fucking spine. The only thing that kept me from going and *completely* losing my shit was that I never saw one on me. And trust me, I looked in mirrors often enough that people might’ve started to think I was really, really digging myself each and every day. But nope, no high self-esteem here. Just an all-consuming terror that I was gonna wake up one morning to find one of those things draped on me, over me.

  Never saw it though, thank fuck. Just… on everybody else. Those things writhing along every inch of them, caressing them in ways that were *beyond* disturbing, and pushing and prodding their way into any orifices they could. And yeah, I literally mean *any*. Hentai nightmare for ya right there. It was when I went to visit my sister that things… ah, they reached a head. I’d been preparing myself for it, really fucking hoping I wouldn’t see it, but preparing myself to see one of those things on my sister. 

  And yeah, there was one, and yeah, it took every fucking ounce of self-control I had not to try and pry it off her, scream at it, at her. But I managed. And then my little nephew woke up from his nap, and I wasn’t so fucking prepared for that. 

  All of three years old, and the sweetest little thing you’ll ever meet, and he had one of them on him. Wrapped around his throat, and prodding at his lips in this fucking disgusting, obscene manner that had me seeing red.

  I’d never, never seen one of them on a child before, always teens and older, but here was my nephew, smiling up at me while one of those things coiled and pulsed around him. And… and as I stared, I didn’t know what to do but fucking stare, I saw an eye form within the mass, and not just any eye. It was *my* eye. The eye I’d fucking lost, it stared directly at me, and it fucking *winked*. It knew I could see it, and it thought it was the funniest fucking thing.

I didn't mean to scare him like I did. I didn't hurt him, I just grabbed him, and I was screaming. I wasn't screaming at him, I was screaming at the thing on him and I was grabbing at it, but I couldn't pull it off him. Couldn’t grab it even though I could *feel* it. Slick, and fleshy, and cold, even though it pulsed, and twitched beneath my fingers.

I don’t remember much after that, not really. I can sorta remember my sister screaming at me. I can remember my nephew crying his little heart out. But beyond that, it’s all a blur until I sorta ‘woke up’ at the police station. My sister had called the cops at some point, and yeah I can understand why. From her perspective, I just flipped my shit and attacked her son, even though I would never, never hurt that boy. He means the world to me. I just wanted to protect him from that thing.

I told the cops that, told my sister that, and then later told the therapist I was forced to go to that. And each and every time I told them, told them what I saw, what I was seeing, the things on them would squirm, and shift, like they’re laughing at me, like what’s happening to me is a joke that just keeps funnier and funnier to them every time it’s told.

[starlingsrps]

hazel mckenna char. dev.

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: hazel rainbow mckenna

Nickname: mack is acceptable.

Birthday: june 19

Age: twenty three

Gender: female

Place of birth: sedona, az

Places lived since: talent, or; evanston, il; chicago, il

Parents: burke mckenna, truck driver, 44; summer mckenna, medical transcriptionist, 42

Siblings: amaryllis, 21; rowan, 19; poppy, 16; sunny, 13; magnolia, 11; jasper, 9; juniper, 6; huck, 4; olive, eighteen months 

Relationship with family: hazel will be the first to call her family weird - who the eff has ten kids anymore??? - and misplaced hippies but they're her weird misplaced hippies and no one calls them that but her. she'll go to the mat for her siblings any day of the week, even olive who doesn't really care. she's especially close to her aunt sadie, an opera singer with the lyric, who she lives with because she makes jackshit as a cub reporter.

Children of his own?: nooooooo. she's not even sure she wants them in case she turns out to be fertile as a rabbit like her mother.

PHYSICAL

Height: 5'4

Build: teeny

Complexion: fair

Distinguishing features: big bambi eyes

Hair color: brown

Usual hair style: wavy lob

Eye color: blue

Glasses? Contacts?: reading glasses

Style of dress/typical outfit(s): black pencil skirt/skinny pants, white silk blouse, cardigan/sweater in her big bag. out the door in twenty. 

Typical style of shoes: heels on her feet, flats in the big bag.

Health: healthy as a horse

Grooming: well groomed always. you never know who you're going to meet and it would be a damn shame to meet someone important and look like a gutter troll.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: pierced ears, a rose gold band on her right ring finger always, no tattoos.

Accent?: nah

Unique mannerisms/physical habits: she can be a little awkward in her movements and she’s sort of all elbows and knees. clumsy. hazel is clumsy.

Athletic?: no.

INTELLECT

Level of education: ba in journliasm from northwestern

Level of self esteem: good!

Gifts/talents: even though she's picked a dying media, hazel is a gifted reporter and tenacious as all hell. once her ears prick on a story, they don't go down until it's cut and printed and she's the same about everything in her life. she's organized and ambitious and knows exactly what she wants in life and she's not afraid to go after it.

Shortcomings: hazel is a steam roller and has had a stick up her ass since 2008.

Style of speech: clear and brisk - she doesn't mince words.

Artistic?: i'm saying writing counts so yes.

Mathematical?: ish.

Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: logic

Neuroses: none that she recognizes as such 

Religious stance: atheist

Cautious or daring?: daring

Most sensitive about/vulnerable to: nah

Optimist or pessimist?: realistic

Extrovert or introvert?: extrovert

Level of comfort with technology: damn good

RELATIONSHIPS

Current marital/relationship status: single

Sexual orientation: heterosexual

Past relationships: not...really? a few hookups here and there in college but nothing truly notable. she's always been too busy.

Most comfortable around: her aunt, probably.

Oldest friend: HAHAHAH

How does he think others perceive him?: a pain in the ass, probably.

How do others actually perceive him?: a pain in the ass with potential

VOCATION

Profession: cub reporter, chicago tribune

Past occupations: freelance journalist, editorial assistant, intern

Attitude towards current job: she pinches herself every morning that she got her dream job fresh out of school. but also wishes she made enough that she could get her own place AND afford the shoes she wants and deserves. she also wishes they'd stop giving her sports stories because wowowowowowow

Attitude towards current coworkers, bosses, employees: STOP GIVING HER SPORTS STORIES!

SECRETS

Dreams: get dat pulitzer

Greatest fears: being buried alive

Hobbies: that implies free time which she does not have. nah, if she's got free time she likes to go see her aunt perform (she hates opera but loves sadie), work on long form articles for pitches, and bullet journal.

Past sexual transgressions: nah

Crimes committed: nah

What she most wants to change about her current life: go away reese no don't less sports stories, more meaty ones. she knows she has to pay her dues but [whines]

What she most wants to change about her physical appearance: she wishes she were 900% less clumsy

DETAILS/QUIRKS

Daily routine: up, work, work, work, work, lurch home, pass out. she forgets to eat a lot.

Night owl or early bird?: night owl

Light or heavy sleeper?: like the dead

Favorite food: cheese fries

Favorite book: from the mixed up files of mrs. basil e. frankweiler

Favorite movie: all the president's men

Favorite song: "send me on my way” by rusted root

Coffee or tea?: red bull

Type of car he drives: god no

Lefty or righty?: right

Favorite color: pink

Cusser?: a bit but not to excess

Smoker? Drinker? Drug user?: no/sometimes/no

Pets?: nope

[lenathesassygreekoracle]

Lost Little Raven Is Found

Declan:

It had been days since the first of six council meetings, it was upon the second meeting that the scent upon some of the shifters had changed; in the early hours of the morning upon the day of the third meeting I had been sitting on the couch in my hotel room going over files when my mind was launched into a rather vivid memory/dream of one little witch. I had been ravaging her in a most carnal of ways, and damned if it didn't have my cock twitching and wanting the real thing.

When the vision/dream receded my mind went a mile a minute, starting to piece things together; the dream, the new scents upon shifters, a broken into witch shop… things began to make sense, some shifters had coveted magic for as long as the shifters had been stalking this earth.

Summoning four of my men, I had two seek out and survey the witches shop and her. The other two I had shadowing the Russians and Italians  for clues and suspicious activity. All this needed to be figured out before the sixth day of council, or there could be heavy repercussions for all shifters , witches and other supernatural folk alike.

Lena:

*i was left for a day before the Russian returned. He smelled of vodka, cigars, and a faint trace of Declan, probably a similar cologne. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. My powers were not even my own. I couldn't control my visions with the lack of blood, or mind I had at the moment. Without knocking I hear him enter the room “pity, I never catch her undressing.” He came over to my bed and sat on it. My stomach heaved as it revolted at the thought. It was time for my shot. I felt the needle stick into my arm. I didn't flinch. Immediately the drugs cloud me.i received a larger dose than normal. He ordered me into his lap, and as much as I didn't want to I had to. When I was in his lap he asked how old I was. I gave him the real answer. He looked shocked. “Is that how you know Declan?” He moved the hair from my neck. I knew what was coming. I shook my head no. “Good. Because if you had that much history it would be much worse. And I need more.” He chewed on my neck as he drank in my power. I felt myself becoming weaker with each pull. I think of Declan, what did this have to do with him? I felt as if death was going to claim me. If it did I wanted Declan to know who did it, I concentrated as hard as I could and forced a vision to his mind, showing the room, the lack of clothing I was allowed, the bruises, and finally the Russian feeding from my neck, and his statement of needing power. I stop the vision and pretend I'm anywhere else but here.

Declan-

-My cell did a little Irish jig across the coffee table, just as my mind was wracked with more visions of the little Raven; the vision was laced with the ever present tickle of death. She was being fed upon, from the look of her neck and the bite marks trailing along it; she was fed upon on a daily basis if not more than once a day.

I grab blindly for my cell, sliding my thumb across the screen as the visions subsided. I answer the call with a carnal edge to my voice, the kind that could only come when you sought blood for blood; the eye for an eye kind of shit.

I listened to the two men on the line, they had contacted each other and put together a conference call so they could both share their intel in a timely manner. My men were more organized than any military faction around and a hundred times swifter and deadlier when it came to carrying out my orders and missions.

Having heard from both parties the puzzle in my mind had completed itself, all that was left to do was to act ; I didn't have long before the next council meeting was to start. A matter of a few hours, I would have to act quickly.-

“Right Liam you and your men make your way back, Dylan you and your team await me at your current location I'm on my way; it's time to set things in motion. We have four hours to get the witch from the enemy's grasp, and get back in time to attend the council meeting.”

-Not waiting for a response I hang up and summon four more men to my side, and set out for the abandoned castle Dylan had followed the Russians to; it was wear they were keeping the witch.-

Lena:

*i could barely feel my body. I wasn't dead yet. I felt the bed shift and I was placed on one side and felt the bed move again. His cologne nearly choked me. I couldn't believe he was laying next to me. I moved away as much as I could. The man spoke in a foreign language to someone else and I heard the door open and close, I was left completely alone with him. He placed a meaty hand on my side* no… don't touch me. *i fought with every fiber of my being through the medicine, but it was failing*

Declan:

-Arriving at the castle, Dylan my right hand man started to inform me of the going ins in and out of the castle; there would be a guard change soon, and a medic would also enter a room in the dungeons for about a half hour before leaving. Right now though the head of the Russian family was in there alone.

As much as I'd like to confront him, thinks had to be done before the council; or all hell could break out. Picking up my cell, I call some other men that were in town; I told them to cause a big scene that would call for the Russian head to attend to personally.

Now all that was left to do was bide our time before we strike, with any luck the Russian would take the bait; he wasn't very bright after all and was exceedingly arrogant and cocky.-

Lena-

*i almost vomit when he kisses me, as if he were my lover, just as he positioned his hands at the lining of my panties a knock came. He told them to “fuck off” a small voice on the other side detailed a situation that had just started and needed the man’s attention. The Russian pulls back and touches my face “I will finish this later Oracle until then you stay here and make no noise.” And he dressed himself again and left with the other man, locking me in the room alone. I closed my eyes. Something far worse than death was in my future.

Declan-

-leaving four of the seven men watching the exterior Dylan and two of his men follow me inside, we used the shadows and secret entrances in and out of the castle till we reached the dungeons; we arrived just saying n time to see the medic get ushered in by the two guards at the door.

The four of us took advantage of the moment knocking all three men out we carried them silently into the dark cell. I walk over to the cot and brush some hair out of the little witches face, I give the signal with my free hand to take all the gear and items off the three unconscious Russians then go set a look out.

Returning my attention to Lena I lean in close to her and whispered into her ear, my words were soft, endearing as well as mocking.-

“ Come little Raven, nows not the time to be playing no cat and mouse with me. You know if you weren't so stubborn you'd have been safe in my bed cuddled up against a throbbing hard cock that would worship the ground you danced over.

Let's not tarry a moment longer, there is work to be done and not a lot of time left to do it in. Can you stand and walk or should I carry you?”

Lena:

*i look up at him, confusion colors my face. His words hit me. But my previous orders ring in my mind. Not a sound. In all honesty, it was a relief to see Declan, even with his smart ass comments I welcomed him. I fought Gravity to sit up. I swayed but was determined to move. I slowly stood up, the sheet falling away from my body, just the camisole and panties on revealing the dirt, bruises, and of course my neck that had been used as a chew toy. I whispered* I can't leave *my chest constricts, I don't know how to explain the shot and the fact I had to follow orders, but the chemical runs through my system, not a sound, I mouth the word “help” my body and my mind disagreed, I had to win this*

Declan-

-The witch was struggling and it was obvious, Dylan made a bid for my attention as he proffered several vials of a drug from the medic; this had a smirk dancing across my lips.

Those fucking bears were a bit more clever than I gave them credit for, I knew what the drug was and I also knew where and whom they got it from. Without a doubt they got it from the Colombians, which meant there was an alliance between the two.

Luckily I knew of a few things that would help counter the effects of the drug. Reaching into my jacket I pull out a little baggie of dried herbs it looked to be. It was actually a mix of catnip, burdock root, mint , and ghost pepper.

I pop the herbs in my mouth chewing them up finely till I had a mouth full of juices, I lean in and kiss Lena deeply; my mouth becoming a sluice. It would take a few minutes to counter the drug, but she would be fine soon enough.-

Lena:

*i watch you chew. Then you kiss me and I taste the weird concoction in my mouth. I ignore the taste and concentrate on the sensation from your mouth. I react for the first time in what felt like eons. My arms snake around your neck and my lips move against yours. The clouds rescind and I feel control over my visions slowly returning. I keep you close till I moan loudly from the kiss, it was the first arousal I had since the dream I had of you between my legs. I wasn't staying silent anymore, it was working. Damnit I owed Declan, but who cared at the moment? Yeah I was still in trouble, but this kiss, and having control was totally worth it*

Declan-

-snaking a muscular arm around her tiny waist, I break the kiss resentfully as I held her hot little body against mine my free hand had a mind of its own as it caressed her ass and slyly slid between her thighs on occasion. I couldn't place the blame solely upon my hand, the thoughts of the visions of me between her thighs had haunted every waking and slumbering moment since it occurred. It only leant fuel to my hand and its nefarious intentions.-

“ it's best if we leave now little Raven, I don't think it be in your best interest to tarry here much longer. You might find yourself on your back again with me tongue deep inside you.”

-His voice was very husky with the heated intentions he described. These weren't mere scenarios he described, it was just a matter of time and place till they came true.

Slipping off his leather jacket he places it over her shoulders. The jacket was so big on her, it could be like an oversized dress.-

Lena:

*he pulls away much too soon. My body yearning for his* I dreamed about that scenario, and it wasn't all bad. *feeling more like myself* but I see what you mean and a bed would be much more comfortable. *i sniff at the jacket realizing how pleasant the scent was* thank you *i kiss his neck before zipping it up, biting my lip, looking at him with relief welling in my eyes* let's leave… please.

Declan:

-Keeping to the shadows we make our way back to the others, the three unconscious Russians locked in the cell. As we meet up with the rest of my men the cars are already waiting for us. Climbing in we speed toward town and the pending council meeting.

I regretted what I was going have to put Lena through, she didn't need to know about it just yet; when all was said and done, I'd take her back to my hotel room and run a bath for her. Then I would allow her to rest, only after the business that stood between us was resolved.-

Lena:

*once safely in the back of the car I needed to know this was real. I grabbed Declan’s hand and squeezed it. He was real. This was real. I let out a soft sigh. I was safe after this huge ordeal. My eyes drifted closed for the majority of the drive. I was finally able to sleep safely without having to worry about the one I don't want crawling into my bed, I mumble another thank you. I sleep until the car stops and turns off. The lack of an engine purr woke me. I blinked* where are we? *whatever building it was, it didn't look like a hotel* where are we? *i yawn wide, my brain not firing well yet*

Declan:

-Getting out of the car I slowly and gently ushered her out of the car too, the time to tell her what was going on was approaching even faster.

As she began to question where we were, I waited until we were over the threshold of the building and well down the hall before answering her question.-

“ we are in town, in a private building that was rented out just for the annual shifter council meeting. It lasts six days, and all shifter leaders attend with a small army of their men; to discuss trivial things as new borders, alliances, new and old shifter laws, to appoint or retire to leaders, to announce soon to be births and losses of elders among other countless things.

It is here upon the last day of the council meeting, we shall address the wrongs done unto you; and set to making things right.”

Lena:

*rubbing my eyes and the words set in, I was going to see all the elders...wearing next to nothing and a coat* what? No! I...I can't! I'm disgusting! *i stop walking, digging in my heels, not willing to admit it's more fear than my appearance* Declan….just take me to your hotel. Make love to me. *trying anything I can to distract you and make you take me away from here and away from the Russian and his lackey* please! I can give you an heir if you just take me away from here. *knowing you mentioned births, thinking you want offspring* please…. please. *I freeze when I hear The Russian’s voice booming from a nearby room, he still didn't know that I was missing. He joked and laughed about what was waiting for him back home and my hairs raised. My resolve got stronger. I couldn't let him do this, no matter how afraid I was, this wasn't going to be over simply because I got away. Declan might not be there next time. After the silence hit hard, I made up my mind* take me to the council.

Declan-

-Her pleas to be whisked away were heart wrenching, it was hard to decipher if her words of being under me, and giving an heir were out of sincerity or fear. I chalked the heir thing up to fear, but from our kiss earlier and her visions I knew there was some truth to her pleas of being between my sheets.

I push her gently against the wall just outside of the council chamber, my voice was thick with gravel; and my eyes were smouldering with a heated passion.-

“ Before we enter, just know I'll keep you safe from this moment on till my dying breath…”

-Dropping to his knees before her, he kept his smouldering gaze locked with hers; reaching up he placed his hands upon her hips. Pulling her panties down to her knees, he lifted a finger to silence her protest; he lifted her up and set her upon his shoulders  so he was comfortably between her thighs barely half an inch away from her core. His warm breath tickling her, a growl of approval could be heard from his men who surrounded them; his eyes never left hers.

He slowly extended his tongue, sweeping it gently over her outer core cautiously; a spark of mischief lit in his eyes, leaning a little closer his tongue squirmed its way deep into her. His hands placed on either side of her on the wall for support.

He was going to feast upon her, he was going to calm her nerves and worries the best way he knew how. By releasing natural endorphins and adrenaline, through her body. This was also a promise of what was to come afterwards when they were alone.

When this moment of reprieve ended, he would have to become emotionless and almost cold; while in the presence of the council. He would give her something warm to grasp onto.-

Lena:

*his movement shocked me, I almost protested but his caution to quiet me won out then the pressure hit, and pleasure followed. We were blocked from most view but it was so naughty. His men could see! They could hear, and certainly could smell my arousal at this moment, hell I was sure most shifters in a one mile radius could, but I didn't care anymore. I bit my lip and tried to stay still but it was in vain, I felt like my body was being claimed and I didn't want to stop. I didn't want him to stop. This felt right, it felt almost familiar, but dejavu was something I got used to awhile ago. My hips flex and move slightly seeking my release and as hard as I bit my lips I couldn't stop the moan that escaped, my voice came out in a pleasured whisper* Declan I'm going to… *warning, begging, and just so wonderfully close I had to say something before it happened, I try to hold back but it's too intense, I moan out his name as I come for him, in a way I haven't for so many years*

Declan:

-As she came for me I lick hungrily at the waves, as the crash against him like they were breaking upon a cliff. As she finishes with a single cry of my name I give one more lick to clean her up, before gently setting her back upon her feet; I lean my body against her, pinning her to the wall. My long throbbing member pressed firmly into her tummy through my jeans, I chuckle softly as I lean down placing my lips upon her ear.-

“ a gesture of good faith little Raven, just a showing of what's to come later. Now steel yourself, we walk onto a battlefield the likes you have not seen. Politics and feral shifter desires run rampant in here, Dylan will keep you safe and stay by your side at all times. You may not like the side of me I must show in here, try not to take my words or actions to personally.”

Lena:

*i'm in almost a haze of post orgasm goodness, I reach down to rub the hardness between us and I look up at you- why does Dylan have to be by my side and not you? They're going to smell you on me anyways…. *taking in the rest of your words* what is going to happen Declan? *my orgasm glow receding, concerned about what will happen, I pull my panties into proper place and the coat down so it covers my thighs again. I look steady into your eyes* what sort of things are going to be said and done?  *before the words are completely out of my mouth a door nearby opens, and again I hear the Russian’s voice coming from the newly opened room. I freeze* I can handle whatever it is, just don't let that fucker near me. We can talk about this preview later too… *now resolved to get justice* he still has my ring too.

Declan:

-Before entering the room, Declan leans in and whispers to two men; one of them was Dylan the other was just as big as Dylan and Declan were but he looked far younger. The other man's name was mentioned by Dylan.-

“Worry not Declan, Liam and I will take care of everything; I'll keep the lass close as if she were my own daughter. Liam and a few of our other men will take care of the other matter discreetly.”

-As Declan disappeared into the room, Dylan stopped Lena and the others from following him; he pulls Lena aside so as to speak to her.-

“My name is Dylan, this here is my son Liam. Declan has asked me to keep watch over you and to explain a few unanswered questions you had.

The first matter to address is his scent on you, Declan is a cunning Lad; he gave you his jacket for more than just your modesty. To be honest us shifters aren't really concerned with whether others can see us in all our naked glory. His jacket will more then explain his scent upon you, the second question of what is going to happen that may have you calling what you know of Declan into question.

The answer is an old tradition of sorts. It's only acceptable for a male shifter to show emotions over three situations. A mate, a young, or your pride/pack/brood. It's viewed as a weakness of emotions are shown outside of those three things, and right now it can't be afforded to be seen as weak in any manner in front of the entire council.

So for the sake of you and everything he's trying to accomplish tonight, you virtually don't exist aside from being evidence of the Russians breaking shifter laws.”

Lena:

And if I was his mate? He wanted that the first time we met. *frowning a little processing the words and my emotions, it makes sense.* so what I stand there, wordless and let a bunch of old two natured fucks look me over and decide if there's cause for the prick who did this to die? *i pinch the bridge of my nose* fine… I'll do my best with that.

*i know I'll probably hear shit from Declan that'll hurt but I can deal with him later, judging by the hard on I felt earlier, blue balls will be on my side for any argument that may ensue.*

Dylan to be honest I don't know much about the real Declan or the show Declan. So I wouldn't be able to say much. I think you have witnessed the majority of our interactions…

Declan:

-Dylan just nodded as she spoke and then quietly ushered her inside, taking a few seats set up behind Declan and his men. The council was in heavy discussion, which came to an end the moment the Russian stood up as he seen Lena. He shouted and pointed at Declan.-

“Council members, see that we have a law breaker amongst us. Declan brings an outsider to a council meeting, never before has this been permitted or heard of; I demand that  something be done about this! I call for our most strict punishment, we must make an example of him! No shifter is above the law… I call for his death!”

-The council broke out in a frenzy as they all looked at Declan and Lena, a Japanese male with similar facial features as Declan called for quiet, before he called upon Declan to answer the charge.-

“Shifters of the council hear me now! There is indeed a law breaker amongst us, and yes I have indeed broken the laws by bringing not only an outsider to a council meeting. But a witch! There is a reason for this out of character action, I bid you all to hear and view my evidence! For this witch is but one artifact of evidence I bring before your gathered wisdom, that one amongst us has broken one of the most scared of our laws.

Earlier this eve! I rescued this witch from a castle under the control of our Russian comrades! She was being held against her will, for the sake of producing magic for their own goals and nefarious ambitions!

This witch was being fed upon! She was also drugged, with a drug well known to us all as devil’s breath! I present you with evidence now of the drug my men confiscated from the Russians, no doubt provided to them by the Colombians! Which also leads us to the new point that an alliance between the two factions had not been announced to the council!

Allow me now to bring forth the witch for your examination of her body, you will see bite marks and needle tracks all along her neck , shoulders, and arms!”

-Dylan leads Lena to Declan's side, where Declan removed his coat from her near naked form for the inspection of all the gathered shifters.-

Lena:

*im basically thrust into the center of the room and I just look around. I try to stay as close as I can to Declan but I have questions fired at me. I'm asked to share my history, my hands try to cover my breasts and my crotch because I'm uncomfortable with being ogled by so many*

my name is Lena Metiloudas, I am an oracle from the time of Ancient Greece, I served the Gods with my visions and the humans. I was kidnapped and taken from Greece. Eventually I came to the United States and studied with Marie Leveau, the voodoo queen. When she passed I purchased a shop and have lived in New Orleans since. The Russian’s broke into my shop and stole a ring of power amplification. He has it on now.

*i hear murmurs and someone grabs his hand stating the truth*

I took a vacation and was kidnapped from my room in Paris. My weeks since have been drugged, power stolen through my blood, and abuse at the hands of him.

*i point at the Russian I can see his face turning purple* he chewed on my neck and ingested my blood *i pull my hair back and show the broken skin around my neck.

“I feared he would do worse. He promised so. My body bares evidence of his abuses.”

One of the older males comes over and asks for my arms. I look to Declan briefly before turning my arms over and the male examines the needle holes, two circle me noting the bruises, bites, and more. I stay standing, trying to keep my breathing even, waiting for someone to make proclamation, the man is gentle as he examines me.*

Declan:

-Declan wrapped the coat back around Lena, before motioning for Dylan to come get her and take her back to her seat. Declan also returned to his seat, his face a blank canvas as he steepled his fingers and waited patiently for things to calm down.

This however would not come to be, the Russian once again stood and pointed his finger at Declan; growling to his men to kill Declan. Neither Declan nor his men made a move to oppose the actions requested of the Russian. Only those who were watching Declan would notice his small smirk, as the lights began to flicker under the tension being emitted from the room full of shifters.

The Russians men raised their guns, pointing them at Declan; only to turn them on themselves and fire. All at once twenty large bodies hit the ground lifeless leaving the Russian speechless.

Declan opened his hands a little wider so the Russian could see what was hidden within the steepled fingers. It was a Vial of the drug he had been given Lena for weeks. Declan had discretely had Liam and his men drug the Russians men and give them orders to kill themselves when ordered to kill Declan or Lena.

The Russian all at once went pale then back to being as red as a tomato in his anger of how cunning Declan was.-

Lena:

*the Russian began yelling and cursing at Declan.

The anger came off of him in palpable waves. I was left stunned at Declan’s magical display. It was amazing. I opened my mouth to speak, finding more courage now that the numbers were in my favor, he didn't have the drugs, and the council was on Declan’s side. I let the coat hang unzipped. Between Dylan and Declan I was safe, I knew it. Through this ordeal I couldn't deny it.

I could see the anger building in the Russian. I wanted to provoke him enough to make another lethal mistake. I had full control over my power now. I closed my eyes and felt Dylan grab my arm, he was making sure I stayed upright. I used a significant amount of my energy and shoved a memory into the Russian’s head. Me willingly letting Declan touch me, the hallway escapade just moments earlier, the orgasm and walking into the chambers. The promise for later. Then the memory morphed for a vision of the future, Declan in a seat of great power with the families, my visions lending more strength by his side. I wasn't too sure it was the truth but visions were somewhat tricky, they didn't always come to be. When I heard the Russian yelling slurs at me I stopped and opened my eyes, he the turned on Declan, pure fury tearing across the room toward Declan!*

Declan:

-The Russian flipped his desk across the room in anger as he charged at Declan in human form, he flipped Declan's desks in the direction of Lena, Dylan yanked her down to the floor just in time as the desk flew overhead; a huge black panther crouched low over her shielding her with his body.

Declan had virtually disappeared,a large black shadow shot out of nowhere and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Leaving only a roar so loud it shattered any items of glass, in its wake. The roar had come from the Russian he was in massive amounts of pain, the back of his legs were soaked in blood; his pants in tattered pieces. He had been hamstrung by sharp claws.

The Russian began to shift into a giant bear, as he fought to get to his feet once again. Only to have a massive panther stalking out of the shadows towards him, the panther would have come up to Lena’s shoulders if she had been standing up; it was twice the size of Dylan's panther form.

With one final lunge the bear and panther bodies collide, the panther stepped away from the bear; its maw completely covered in blood. The Russian now back in human form, lay there with his throat torn open gurgling blood as he tried to fight for breath and final words.

The Russian raised his hand In an attempt at a final attack by using the magic ring he stole. His hand was caught in another massive hand, as Declan knelt over his body; crushing the Russians hand till it broke, he slipped the ring off his finger.

Standing up Declan turned to face the council and Lena, he crushed the ring In his hand; and begun to address the council.-

“The Russians have paid the ultimate price this day! Having lost not only their leader but twenty fine warriors, it's a heavy cost even for being an example. We have two matters to consider now, the first is to place a wiser leader in the seat of power for the Russians; the second is how to deal with the Colombians for aligning themselves to such a nefarious cause.”

-The Colombians all knelt before the council, begging for mercy, and stating they would place a new leader in the seat of power.

The old Japanese male from earlier stepped forward and spoke now, before handing things back over to Declan.-

“We the Japanese(dragons), and the Chinese (foxes) cast our vote in favour of our allies the Irish, to choose the course of action for the Colombians and a more favourable leader of the Russians.”

Lena:

*after the commotion came and went I was left somewhat bewildered, with a giant cat over me...I listened intently when words came. It seemed like the meeting was coming to a close, I asked Dylan* can we leave soon? *i was getting exhausted, it had been such an eventful night. Declan remained so calm, so calculating I didn't know whether to be turned on by his prowess or scared by the calculating man. Dylan hadn't answered me, he was drawn into the proceedings as I had been, but the distractions were starting to build. I watched as the elders closed the meeting without further performances by any fools. I saw Declan turn toward me. It was time to get the hell out of there, my body throbbed with the memory of his promise when we got to the hotel*

#Fin