#our neighbours across the road have but not us

[witchstone]

okay i've Calmed Down and my dad and I sat down to sketch out what to do if this happens 

[readwritealldayallnight]

Yours, Mine, Ours

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 1.5k words

warnings/tags: fluff

“So did the other two actually say no or did you just never invite them?”

“‘Course I invited them, you asked me to, so I did.” Simon replies with ease, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. “They’re smart lads, lovie, they knew to say no all by themselves.”

You shake your head at him in disbelief but the smile that’s been plastered across your face ever since the two of you pulled out of your flat’s parking doesn’t budge. Simon’s been driving for a few hours now, and as stressful of an experience as that is alone, you’re too excited to mind the long journey in the car.

Simon is on leave for the next two weeks, something about Price having to attend a funeral following a death in the family, and deciding that everyone on the force was due for a bit of time off. Seeing as the Captain was going to be preoccupied during his time off duty, he had asked if Simon wouldn’t mind checking in on his house for him, making sure things were alright. He’d even offered for the two of you to stay in the guest room for the duration of their leave.

Simon had explained how Price knew that the two of you were living in a small flat in London, and apparently his home was in a beautiful, forested, isolated area which meant he had essentially no neighbours, something he also knew would appeal to Simon. He offered for the two of you to stretch your legs out there at enjoy the property, including the privacy that came with it.

Wanting to be polite, you’d told Simon he should extend the invitation to Soap and Gaz, thinking they might enjoy a nice, quiet stay-cation as well at their Captain’s place away from it all. It would appear your lover had different ideas in mind however. Though you couldn’t blame him entirely, the thought of having the cozy cabin all to yourselves was certainly more appealing.

Every which way you look outside the car, your vision is filled by endless blurry trees as you zoom by, the colours of the leaves having finally changed into the warmer, more vibrant colour palette that came along with the autumn chill. If the drive up to his property was any indication of how beautiful the area really was, then you were in for quite the treat.

Entranced by the beauty of the landscape in comparison to the city lights you’ve grown so used to, you fail to notice the glances Simon keeps sneaking your way, the smallest of satisfied smiles seemingly permanently etched upon his face beneath his balaclava. He was grateful that after explaining the situation and Price’s generous offer to you, you had been too excited to ask many questions, instead getting a jump start on packing a duffel bag or two.

You were one of the most intelligent, clever, curious people he’d ever known, and it was normally quite difficult to get anything by you. He was therefore feeling rightfully proud of himself as he drove you nearer and nearer to the home you believed belonged to his Captain. In actuality, there was no funeral for Price to attend, the sergeants had certainly not been invited along on your getaway, and the home you’d be staying in wasn’t Price’s.

It was yours.

Yours, and Simon’s.

The two of you had been living in that shoebox of a flat he’d considered as ‘satisfactory’ when he was only staying there as a bachelor, for far too long. As ideal as the location might have been, there simply just wasn’t enough space for two people to live together, even considering Simon’s absences for work and that fact that when he was home, you two were essentially always on top of one another anyways.

You’d both been searching for a new flat for what felt like ages now, none of the places you visited feeling like the right fit. Simon would be weary about a certain neighborhood, you’d be concerned with the lack of any balcony or outdoor space, he’d ignore the price tag that felt your eyes bulging, and you’d shake your head as you walked through doorways that had him needing to duck down.

Little did you know, Simon had been doing his own house hunting, outside of the city. You had told Simon you were fine with staying in London, understanding that it’s convenient to have everything near by. But Simon didn’t want to give you just ‘fine’. He wanted to give you a home. The home he intends to spend the rest of his life with you in, plans on carrying you over the threshold in your wedding dress, hopes to carry sleeping newborns in their car seats through the door.

For months now, Simon has subtlety been learning more about what that home looked like to you. He’d look over your shoulder as you scrolled through Pinterest, casually asking if you could show him your boards, you know just for fun, and paid very close attention when you showed him the one named ‘future house’. On his phone, he had a list a mile long in his notes app, from secretly writing down every comment you made while watching your home reno shows. He’ll casually ask you what you think of the houses you drive by, jotting down your answers in his mind, remembering likes and dislikes.

He believes that like you, it’s the people filling the home that matter more than the structure itself, as proven by the way you continue to put up with his minuscule flat. He knows you mean it when you say you’re alright with another flat. But he has the money goddammit, he has the means to do this for you, and when the listing came up for a home in what you’d revealed as being your ideal area to settle down in one day, the house resembling the amalgamation of everything he believed you’d described as being your perfect place, he knew he had to put an offer in.

And if there ever was anything about the house you didn’t like or wanted to change, he’d gladly do it for you, no questions asked. You want to paint the bedroom? Just tell him what colour you want. You want to change the railing on the wrap around porch? He’s on his way to the hardware store already. You need him to dig a stump out of the backyard to make room for your garden? Sit back and enjoy the show lovie, he’s on it. And when the time comes to build a crib? Well he may as well baby proof the whole house while he’s at it too.

He’s pictured your reaction a thousand times over in his mind. He imagines you’ll maybe give a small gasp when he turns the corner of the long driveway and you first see the cozy, two-storey home, surrounded by never-ending foliage of red, orange, and yellow leaves, the time of year perfect for appreciating autumn in the UK, as well as the privacy the tall trees grant you. He thinks the first thing you’ll comment on will likely be the windows, an item high on your priority list he knew to adhere to.

He imagines you kicking off your boots as you step through the door, pace quickening to explore every room, spinning in the kitchen as you joke about how jealous you are of Price. He pictures you groaning with envy when you spot your dream master bathroom, insisting to Simon that since you’d been tasked with checking in on the home you may as well see every room, right? He plans to explain away the obvious sparseness of the home as the Captain not having lived here long, as being very non-materialistic after all his years in service.

He’ll continue to play along for as long as he can, part of him knowing that you know him well enough that you’re likely to catch onto his deception at some point. However he hopes that before you start rummaging through kitchen cabinets and find them empty, too empty even for an absentee captain of a homeowner, that you’ll mention something along the lines of wishing you could stay here longer. That’s when he plans to slip a key into the palm of your hand, revealing that you might be able to stay longer than you believe.

The small piece of metal that’ll unlock the rest of your lives together, sits heavy in his pocket, in contrast to the light feeling in his heart when his hand reaches across the dashboard to grab a hold of yours, knowing that the content, lovesick smile you offer him is likely stretched across his face as well, staring right back at you.

Though you’re unaware that Simon is currently driving towards your home, and not away from it, you’re gently stroking the scarred skin across his hand, feeling as though your home is sitting right next to you, holding your hand and your heart at the same time.

[mariacallous]

It is over and everything is lost. This is the refrain repeated by Armenian families as they take that final step across the border out of their home of Nagorno-Karabakh.

In just a handful of days more than 100,000 people, almost the entire Armenian population of the breakaway enclave, has fled fearing ethnic persecution at the hands of Azerbaijani forces. The world barely registered it. But this astonishing exodus has vanished a self-declared state that thousands have died fighting for and ended a decades-old bloody chapter of history.

On Saturday, along that dusty mountain road to neighbouring Armenia, a few remaining people limp to safety after enduring days in transit.

Among them is the Tsovinar family who appear bundled in a hatchback littered with bullet holes, with seven relatives crushed in the back. Hasratyan, 48, the mother, crumbles into tears as she tries to make sense of her last 48 hours. The thought she cannot banish is that from this moment forward, she will never again be able to visit the grave of her brother killed in a previous bout of fighting.

“He is buried in our village which is now controlled by Azerbaijan. We can never go back,” the mother-of-three says, as her teenage girls sob quietly beside her.

“We have lost our home, and our homeland. It is an erasing of a people. The world kept silent and handed us over”.

She is interrupted by several ambulances racing in the opposite direction towards Nagorno-Karabakh’s main city of Stepanakert, or Khankendi, as it is known by the Azerbaijani forces that now control the streets. Their job is to fetch the few remaining Karabakh Armenians who want to leave and have yet to make it out.

“Those left are the poorest who have no cars, the disabled and elderly who can’t move easily,” a first responder calls at us through the window. “Then we’re told that’s it.”

As the world focused on the United Nations General Assembly, the war in Ukraine and, in the UK, the felling of an iconic Sycamore tree, a decades old war has reignited here unnoticed.

It ultimately heralded the end of Nagorno-Karabakh, a breakaway Armenian region, that is internationally recognised as being part of Azerbaijan but for several decades has enjoyed de facto independence. It has triggered the largest movement of people in the South Caucasus since the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Azerbaijan has vehemently denied instigating ethnic cleansing and has promised to protect Armenians as it works to reintegrate the enclave.

But in the border town of Goris, surrounded by the chaotic arrival of hundreds of refugees, Armenia’s infrastructure minister says Yerevan was now struggling to work out what to do with tens of thousands of displaced and desperate people.

“Simply put this is a modern ethnic cleansing that has been permitted through the guilty silence of the world,” minister Gnel Sanosyan tells The Independent, as four new busses of fleeing families arrive behind him.

“This is a global shame, a shame for the world. We need the international community to step up and step up now.”

The divisions in this part of the world have their roots in centuries-old conflict but the latest iterations of bitter bloodshed erupted during the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Karabakh Armenians, who are in the majority in the enclave, demanded the right to autonomy over the 4,400 square kilometre rolling mountainous region that has its own history and dialect. In the early 1990s they won a bloody war that uprooted Azerbaijanis, building a de facto state that wasn’t internationally unrecognised.

That is until in 2020. Azerbaijan, backed by Turkey, launched a military offensive and took back swathes of territory in a six-week conflict that killed thousands of soldiers and civilians. Russia, which originally supported Armenia but in recent years has grown into a colder ally, brokered a fragile truce and deployed peacekeepers.

But Moscow failed to stop Baku in December, enforcing a 10-month blockade on Nagorno-Karabakh, strangling food, fuel, electricity and water supplies. Then, the international community stood by as Azerbaijan launched a 24-hour military blitz that proved too much for Armenian separatist forces. Outgunned, outnumbered and weakened by the blockade, they agreed to lay down their weapons.

For 30 years the Karabakh authorities had survived pressure from international powerhouses to give up statehood or at least downgrade their aspirations for Nagorno-Karabakh. For 30 years peace plans brokered by countries across the world were tabled and shelved.

And then in a week all hope vanished and the self-declared government agreed to dissolve.

Fearing further shelling and then violent reprisals, as news broke several Karabakh officials including former ministers and separatist commanders, had been arrested by Azerbaijani security forces, people flooded over the border.

At the political level there are discussions about “reintegration” and “peace” but with so few left in Nagorno-Karabakh any process would now be futile.

And so now, sleeping in tents on the floors of hotels, restaurants and sometimes the streets of border towns, shellshocked families, with a handful of belongings, are trying to piece their lives together.

Among them is Vardan Tadevosyan, Nagorno-Karabakh’s minister of health until the government was effectively dissolved on Thursday. He spent the night camping on the floor of a hotel, and carries only the clothes he is wearing. Exhausted he says he had “no idea what the future brings”.

“For 25 years I have built a rehabilitation centre for people with physical disabilities I had to leave it all behind. You don’t know how many people are calling me for support,” he says as his phone ringed incessantly in the background throughout the interview.

“We all left everything behind. I am very depressed,” he repeats, swallowing the sentence with a sigh.

Next to him Artemis, 58, a kindergarten coordinator who has spent 30 years in Steparankert, says the real problems were going to start in the coming weeks when the refugees outstay their temporary accommodation.

“The Azerbaijanis said they want to integrate Nagorno-Karabakh but how do you blockade a people for 10 months and then launch a military operation and then ask them to integrate?” she asks, as she prepares for a new leg of the journey to the Armenian capital where she hopes to find shelter.

“The blockade was part of the ethnic cleansing. This is the only way to get people to flee the land they love. There is no humanity left in the world.”

Back in the central square of Goris, where families pick through piles of donated clothes and blankets and aid organisations hand out food, the loudest question is: what next?

Armenian officials are busy registering families and sending them to shelters in different corners of the country. But there are unanswered queries about long-term accommodation, work and schooling.

“I can’t really think about it, it hurts too much,” says Hasratyan’s eldest daughter Lilet, 16, trembling in the sunlight as the family starts the registration process.

“All I can say to the world is please speak about this and think about us. We are humans, people made of blood, like you and we need your help.”

[catnipaddictt]

Toast

neighbour!sam monroe x gn!reader

synopsis: your first interaction with your angsty neighbour

wc: 2k

tw: none

Stretching your arms above your head, you will your body to wake up quicker. You swing your legs out of bed and onto the soft carpet of your bedroom. Your alarm clock shows that the time is half past 10. But luckily today was a Saturday meaning you didn't have to do anything productive.

After taking a quick shower, you throw on some jeans and a comfy sweater before heading downstairs. Making your way to the kitchen, you are greeted by your parents as well as the smell of overcooked toast. 

“Good morning hunny, sleep well?” Your mother asks with a smile. Both your parents were good natured but strict. You were their previous little girl after all, even if you were definitely little anymore. 

“Yeah, I slept okay” you reply back as your father hands you a piece of almost blackened toast, earning a scowl from you. He sees your expression and jokes “more flavour this way!” 

You look our the window of the kitchen at the clear skies. Maybe today would be a good day to visit the lake that was close to your house. Deciding that it would be a good use of your time you grab the book you had been reading and your walkman off of the kitchen bench before telling your parents where you were going.

“Okay honey, but be careful and don't talk to anyone you don't know” your mother warns you in a strong tone. “I'll be safe, I promise” you reply before your dad pushes another piece of toast your way. “For the road.”

The walk from your house to the lake only takes about 15 minutes but is made more enjoyable by the music in your ears. Once arriving at the glistening water you find a shady tree to sit against, placing the now cold, burnt toast on the ground. No way you were taking another mouthful of what tasted like tar.

Lost in the world of your book and the song in your ears, you don't hear the figure approaching you, only noticing when a dark shadow casts its way across the pages in front of you. You look up only to be met with blue eyes rimmed with smudged eyeliner. You immediately recognize the figure as your gloomy neighbour, Sam Monroe. 

You were under strict instructions by your mother never to talk to the boy as he listened to ‘devils music’ and smoked enough weed for the entire neighbourhood. However, this never stopped your wandering eyes from observing him. From a distance of course. 

You would watch him slam the front door to his mother's house as he left, wearing dark clothes with all sorts of logos you didn't know. Your bedroom window looked directly into his and even when his blinds were shut, you could see the boy moving around shirtless, cigarette tucked between his slender, ring-clad fingers. 

So what? You're a little fascinating with him. But curiosity never killed the cat, and you weren't exactly breaking your mother's rules as you had never uttered a word to him. 

Sam looks at you, his cigarette hangs loosely between his lips before he pulls it away, exhaling. You hope your mouth wasn't gapping at him. Pulling your headphones off your ears, you look up at him, slightly worried. Why was here standing right here, right in front of you? 

He crouched down in front of you, holding out the cigarette for you to take. You take it from him, not really sure what to do. You wanted to make yourself seem cool, so you try your luck and bring it to your lips before inhaling. 

Almost instantly you feel like you are coughing up a lung. ‘How do people do that?’ You question yourself. Sam lets out a huff of amusement before taking the cigarette from your outstretched hand. He sits down in front of you, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knees, making sure the cigarette doesn't burn through his well-worn jeans. 

“At least you tried,” he shrugs. “The first time I tried smoking, I started crying” he admits. You take in his words carefully, pressing them permanently into your memory. He was actually speaking to you. He gave you his cigarette to try. His saliva was probably on it. Oh god. His saliva probably made contact with your mouth. If your mother found out she would skin you alive.

“Hey, you with me?” He waves his hand in front of your face causing you to snap out of your little trance. “Uh…yeah” you respond. Smooth. “What were you listening to?” He questions. “Oh...I was listening to David Bowie.” You realise that he is probably going to think you're a loser because you don't listen to anything he likes.

“Bowie's cool” he replies. You can't tell if he is being sarcastic or not. “Have you heard anything by Marilyn?” He asks. “Marilyn Monroe?” you must look perplexed as he laughs “No, Marilyn Manson.” 

“I don't think so?” You reply “My parents don't let me listen to anything that doesn't play on the radio.” He passes you the headphones that were reading around his neck, and plugs them into his much newer walkman. “Here listen.” You place his headphones over your ears and after a few moments music fills them. 

It's nothing like anything you have heard before. It's raspy and messy but you like it. You can also hear why your mother didn't want you listening to this type of music. It makes you feel something that's hard to put into words. “It's different but I like it” you conclude to Sam, sliding the headphones off and passing them to him.

“Yeah? I could show you some other stuff some time if you want?” He says and you nod “I would like that.” 

“I'm surprised I've never spoken to you before, I know we go to the same school, and we are neighbours” he states looking at you. “I was told to stay away from you” you admit. Although now you can't see why you were told to, Sam seems genuinely nice. 

“Ah, your mom's got strong views… or?” “Something like that” you respond. “I've seen you looking at me, you know, I can feel your eyes when I leave the house” Sam says calmly. You in fact are the opposite of calm now, but you manage to limit it to a darker tint covering your cheeks. 

“Sorry” you mutter. “Hey, I don't mind it, although you should also close your curtains better. I don't mind you watching me, but I can see you getting changed. I turn away, don't worry.” Sam speaks before talking another drag of his cigarette.

You go a deeper shade of red, if that is even possible. He can see you getting changed. And for some reason you don't really mind? He said he looks away though, a small part of you hopes he isn't telling the truth. “I swear I don't watch okay?” He restates, trying to get his point across. “I'm not a perv or anything” 

You nod at him, unsure what to say. “Why do you have a piece of burnt toast?” His question catches you off guard. He can't just go from saying he likes you watching him to asking about your dad's questionable cooking methods.

“My dad thinks the toast is better this way, but it really isn't. I was going to feed it to the birds” you admit still tinted with embarrassment.

“It looks inedible.” Sam states, eyeing up the bread suspiciously. He looks over towards the waters edge, where a selection of ducks had gathered. You pick up the now slightly soggy piece of toast and rip it in half unceremoniously. You pass one half to Sam, he raises a pierced eyebrow. “For the ducks” you explain, trying to not come off as too weird. 

He places his cigarette between his pink lips again, inhaling the smoke. You watch as it comes out of his nose, but look away quickly, trying not to seem as if you were staring. He doesn’t say anything but you can feel his gaze on the side of your face. 

You see him move and look back at him as he gets to his feet, unfolding his legs clumsily. He holds out his ring-clad hand for you to take, prompting you to look up at him. “Thought you wanted to go feed the birds, remember?” he says with a sly grin as you take his hand. He pulls you to your feet, and you place your book in your bag carefully. 

He doesn’t let go of your hand, instead he leads you around the lake a bit until you reach a shady outcrop with a dozen or so ducks surrounding it. He lets go of your hand and you internally miss the warmth of his palm. He takes the half piece of burnt toast and rips off a small chunk before throwing it out to the water. The ducks, as expected, start making a racket and swarm the small offering. More ducks must sense that something of importance is happening as more start to swim towards the bank. You rip off your own bit of blackened bread, throwing it at the selection of hungry mouths. 

“Hey, overthere, look” Sam speaks as he points towards two large swans swimming towards the frenzy. Once they get closer to you two, you rip off a bigger piece of the toast and throw it towards the pair. The larger of the swans takes it in their beak, gulping it down. You smile at the large white beauties as they swim even closer, wanting their share of the feast. Sam rips off smaller bits than you, making sure to try and give each loud duck a bit of food. 

After a few minutes of pulling pieces off of bread, both you and Sam have run out of food for the birds. “You know, you’re not too bad company” Sam says, keeping his head facing the water. “Thanks” you reply quietly, “You are a lot less…scary than I thought.” The two swans make their way onto the bank of the lake, settling down by the waters edge. You watch as they ruffle their pale feathers and begin grooming themselves. 

Sam lets out a laugh, now turning to face you. “Thanks, we should do this again sometime.” You nod slowly in agreement. The warm sun bathes both of you in the late morning light and makes the water glisten invitingly. He throws down the remains of his cigarette after taking one last inhale, stomping on it to make it stop burning. 

You watch the last of the smoke drift into the air as he exhales it, politely away from your face. His eyes connect with yours as he turns back to face you. The ducks continue to quack in the background, but as you two have stopped feeding them, some have begun to swim away towards the shady opposite bank. 

“What are you doing the rest of the day?” Sam asks, looking at your face closely. His blue eyes shine in the sun, making them stand out from his messy black hair. “I don’t know” You answer honestly, you really hadn’t planned your day past this trip to the lake. “Do you want to hang out or something?” he questions you, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to”. 

“I would like that” you shoot him a smile, afterall it would be nice to have a friend so close to your house. Even if you would have to keep it away from the prying eyes of your conservative parents. “Lunch?” he queries with a sly grin. You nod quickly in reply, lunch would be nice.

It's safe to say the rest of your day off was spent with your rather attractive emo neighbour, and an hour long lecture from your angry mother when you were caught talking to him in the driveway.

ignore any grammatical errors, I made them on purpose I swear

[gemsofgreece]

You really should know about Storm "Daniel"

Unlike how much all of us Greek blogs notify our tumblr communities about the regular (at this point) arsons wildfires afflicting Greece, we did not say much about the floods the country has been suffering from right now. There was a mention here and there and I even made a joke post as the storm was starting but not a lot of stuff in general. So, I think there's a couple of things you should know and I feel like I could address about it and actually it's not just about Greece. So I believe this could interest a lot of people and it should be something known worldwide.

In the beginning of September there was an alarm about an extreme weather phenomenon forming above the Ionian Sea at the west of mainland Greece. In truth, the phenomenon was not caused by the climate change. It was just a very rare occurence where a high pressure atmosheric system was sandwiched between two currents of low pressure. Low pressure systems are the ones resposible for stormy weather while high pressure systems generally create stable weather. As the low currents encircled the high pressure system, the storm that had started forming became unusually stable for a storm. As a result, the storm moved northeast above Thessaly and other regions of the central part of Greece and... just decided to stay there for an indefinite amount of time. Furthermore, because it's September and the Ionian Sea had warmed up throughout the summer, the medicane (Mediterranean cyclone) gained tropical features as it was forming, pushing its intensity to extremes unknown to this area.

The storm remained above all of central Greece for about 4-5 days but at the meantime it was causing side-storms in neighbouring countries, such as Bulgaria and Turkey. Both countries suffered from floods causing damages and deaths.

Istanbul, Turkey (CNN).

Tsarevo, Bulgaria (CNN).

Four people died in Bulgaria and seven in Turkey.

But like I told you the core of this was exactly on top of Greece's central mainland and islands. So what happened there? I happened to experience this shit first hand. My recollection of it is that it was unlike any other storm I had experienced before. My knowledge on meteorology is not very advanced, however I believe due to the high pressure part, there were actually no winds at all - or they were insignificant, so it wasn't like what you might have in mind as a conventional cyclone. It was a rainstorm but it was like a rainstorm from hell. The crucial part is that in Greece summer violent rainstorms may last for about five minutes but certainly not for five days nonstop. There was no pause, not even for a second. It kept pouring and pouring in indescribable volumes, without decreasing or slowing down, not for a moment. The fourth day it started taking short breaks.

As a person with a phobia of lightnings since childhood, I kept wearing earplugs throughout all these days. For four days, ten seconds did not pass without at least one lightning shrieking exactly on top of our heads. In the end, I am dead serious, I think my lifelong phobia has been cured somewhat due to this extreme exposure that eventually had a numbing effect. I think only the first day there was a record of 7,000 lightnings. I believe there must have been dozens of thousands overall. The lightnings also caused fires but the downpour was so overwhelming no fire could ever stand a chance.

Whether during or after the rains, what I was seeing outside was post-apocalyptic. The only thing missing was the zombies. It really looked like a background from a videogame, including a constantly lit up sky. I was not in danger though people dear to me were. The worst for me was a huge fall in the quality of living but that doesn't matter. The rains caused severe destructions across cities and villages. They caused floods, they broke bridges, they broke a massive number of roads, they made walls collapse, they destroyed springs, they damaged water and electricity outlets entirely, they drowned flocks and flocks of animals, they destroyed mountainous and coastal villages alike, they made cars float and fly over each other and they uprooted houses.

Village in Mount Pelion, Greece.

But that's not the end of it. Four days later, the storm moved southwest towards the Ionian sea, basically to the place of its original formation. It side-swept over Athens in the meantime, flooding the city, but that doesn't mean much since I could cry and Athens would still flood with my tears. Anyway. AFTER the storm left, the floods caused by it started multiplying and expanding. Picture that: a crystal clear sky, a bright sun and your phone screaming state alerts about evacuating your village or town because a lake has launched at you! Here's the thing: Thessaly is a massive plain surrounded by a ring of mountains. Half of those downpours fell right on the lowlands causing floods and destructions the first days. The other half however fell on the mountains, filled the streams heading down and they all met up and filled the lakes and the large river of Thessaly, Pineios and they all basically exploded the next days. Pineios especially exploded both in its western and eastern part, sinking the entirety of Thessaly's plains under water. As a result, floods were actively taking place days after the storm had ended and the weather was good. The phenomena have only started subduing since yesterday.

The overflowing of the river, trapped by the mountains.

Farmers won't be able to work this year and next year is questionable as well. There are huge concerns about various epidemics breaking out as more and more dead animals are found in the waters. Entire villages are under the water. There are estimations that some villages in west Thessaly might have been lost forever and their residents will have to move elsewhere. Sixteen people have died from the rainstorm and the floods.

Actual villages in Karditsa, Greece.

A more longterm danger is that the ground received such an unnatural amount of water that it might have been severely eroded and destablised, making it vulnerable to natural disasters I don't want to utter. Many roads are either broken or bloated and Thessaly has been cut out from communication and transportation with the rest of the country. To this day, there are maps guiding people how to drive from North to South Greece and vice versa by entirely skipping Central Greece! (Hint: they will have to drive through Epirus, aka western Greece.) The first days there was also complete isolation from what was happening in the country and the world and also the very regions we were in as we had no electricity and our only chance was getting a call from somebody being elsewhere and telling us what is going on.

Volos, Greece (CNN)

Many regions have received within 2-4 days 55 times their monthly amount of rain or more than twice the yearly amount. Greek meteorologist Christos Zerefos estimated that such a phenomenon occurs every 300-400 years. Meteorologists were alarmed internationally - with Germans and Americans reportedly saying they hadn't studied such a phenomenon again in their career. Its intensity was record high in the history of Greece and right in the top of Europe's as well. They also agreed that such a phenomenon would be devastating even if it had hit the most advanced and prepared country.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END. The weakened Daniel seemed to slowly move towards South Italy but it decided to take a turn and headed south towards Libya and Egypt. Quite possibly, as the storm was once again travelling across the warm Mediterranean Sea, it was rejuvenated and gained even more tropical traits. Eventually, the medicane hit Libya with unprecedented force.

The cyclone travelling from Greece to Libya.

The toll it took on Libya is unspeakable. As I am writing this,

More than 5,226 people are killed and more than 10,000 are currently missing.

Like, can you wrap your head around what I am talking about? I don't see this shit being acknowledged enough across the world. I am checking this again and again, to ensure I am reading this correctly.

Daniel has officially become the deadliest medicane on record.

Eastern Libya, from Al Jazeera.

In the meantime, Greeks found opportunities to practice their favourite sport: political infighting. People who weren't even here when hell broke loose say that if this or that was properly done, we would not have problems at all. I even saw an idiotic Greek expat comment how "we got drowned in a little bit of rain". The truth is we should bloody thank our lucky stars and I say this with the entire awareness of half of Thessaly being currently underwater. It is true that Greek governments and people have done so many things badly, like building on top of streams and rivers, changing rivers' natural route, drying up natural lakes and all that shit that guarantees you are going to have massive problems once a serious storm breaks out. Also, the disaster revealed that there was once more a very questionable management of all the money given by the EU for anti-flooding measures after a previous flood (Ianos). Of course, I would be happy if at last we viewed this disaster as an opportunity to improve ourselves and the management of our land, however whatever happened these days wasn't the fault of anyone in particular. On the contrary, A LOT worse could have happened. A lot. Maybe Libya is not an indication because if Greece is not used to such extreme rain phenomena, then Libya is probably ten times less used to them, however we should not forget that this monster was STUCK at least five days over the heartland of Greece. For this alone we should damn be thankful we did not get it any worse and that the land endured in any way and of course now we have to correct old mistakes as well but let's do it united and determined and without wasting time once more in pointless infighting, which in this case might even be unfair. (In fact I think the thing we should blame the state the most about was not making it clear beforehand that this was going to be unprecedented, not just "very severe". They probably didn't want to cause panic and mayhem but still. We should know.) Of course I am not talking about how the state will treat the afflicted regions from now on, which is entirely its responsibility. And we should stand next to Libya. Greece has its wounds to mend but it should absolutely provide support to Libya. We know what this freak phenomenon was like.

I know this text is long but please consider reblogging this. We should know what happens on our planet. Thousands of people are dead from a freak phenomenon devastating regions across lands and seas. Also forgive any mistakes I might have made although I believe the information is correct for the most part. I didn't speak more about Libya because I don't know enough to analyze the situation as much. Perhaps there are ways of supporting the country too. As a last note, this phenomenon was not freakish because of the climate change - it was just a very unusual occurence. However, the - otherwise normal - warmth of the sea did feed and intensify the storm and the climate change might in the future cause these super rare, accidental phenomena to become more frequent.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Neighbour's son Miguel

This is turning out to be longer than I anticipated 😅.

I actually had the song in mind when I imagined the barbeque scene, but after writing it, I realised that it fits this part more ...

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Warnings: heavy making out.

----------------------------------------------------------

Neighbour's son!Miguel who continues running his thumb across your soft skin as he waits for your response. You swallow hard and curl your fingers against his chest, then bite down on your grin. You take a moment to compose yourself, your heart pounding against your chest with delight, then turn your face back up to his. Your eyes fall to his lips for a brief moment, your mouth watering in anticipation of tasting them, then you lift your gaze to his. “Please.” 

Neighbour's son!Miguel who stops at the end of the street. You lean over, trying to see if there's an obstacle on the road, but he just tells you to get up. You unclip your helmet and crane your head back as he stands, then swallow hard when he removes his helmet to reveal the naughty smirk he'd been wearing as he looked down at you. He curls his fingers around your sides, then pulls you into his chest, his hands sliding around your waist to your back. “Miguel!” you gasp, curling up against him shyly. “What if someone sees?!” 

Neighbour's son!Miguel who laughs at the way you hiss the words, chastising him like you’d grown up together - like the nine years you’d lost between you meant nothing at all. “Who?!” Miguel asks, raising an eyebrow at you in that way that makes your stomach start flipping like crazy. “It’s almost midnight, princesa.” Your lips curl into a smile as he rests his forehead against yours, an amused grin on his handsome face. A soft snicker escapes your lips and you turn your face away from his. “Well … someone could be throwing their rubbish. And what if they see us?! And then tell our mu-”

Neighbour's son!Miguel who stops you by grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to his. He lets his eyes travel over your features, your arched brows and your round eyes and your luscious lips. He brings his mouth closer to yours, but stops just a breath away. “Great,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across your lips. “Then we won’t have to tell them ourselves.” He shoots you that mischievous smirk again and you feel yourself go weak at the knees at the sight. He catches you quickly, his strong arm sliding around your waist, then presses his lips to yours. You melt into him as he kisses you, his tongue so delicious in your mouth. The two of you giggle and moan softly as you kiss, your hands moving across each other’s bodies excitedly, your hearts thumping in unison. You wrap your arms around your best friend’s neck as he sneaks his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt and your chest warms at how perfect he feels against you.

Neighbour's son!Miguel who sits back down on his motorcycle and pulls you between his legs, one hand tugging your mouth back to his, the other sliding dangerously low down your back. His hands glide all over your curves as you start kissing again and you shiver at the delicious feeling of his warm touch. Then he closes his fingers around your ass and you gasp as you stretch onto your toes, a warm feeling pooling in your core as the entire front of your body brushes up against his.

Neighbour's son!Miguel who can feel himself getting excited at the aroused look on your face; your unfocused gaze, your parted lips, your heaving chest. You were so gorgeous, so perfectly beautiful under the moonlight, and he still couldn't believe that the best friend he was always going to end up with anyway had grown up to be so pretty. He slides his hand behind your knee and lifts it up onto his hip. 

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose fingers crawl beneath your shirt as your lips find his again, his calloused skin brushing along your sides. You let out a choked gasp as you feel your underwear start to get wet, then you grip onto his jacket as you sink into his chest. You run your hands across his broad shoulders, the muscles firm and tight beneath your palms, and slide your fingers into his hair, tangling them in the silky strands. Your hips start moving against his, your core begging you to feel his body pressed up against yours, and you lift your other knee, straddling him on his bike. 

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose chest rumbles with a deliciously low groan as you grind yourself against him. Coño, you were cute, dry humping him so excitedly in the middle of the street. But you were right - what if someone did see you? He wouldn't let you get embarrassed like that. He pulls his lips away from yours and gently pushes you away from his centre. “P-Princesa,” he chokes out, his mind going dizzy with arousal as you move your lips to his neck and continue rolling your hips against his. “C-Calmate … mi bonita …” He forces out an amused chuckle and you finally pull back, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Holy shit!” you hiss, jumping off of him and taking a step back. You look up at him with wide eyes and your lips curl at the corners instinctively - just like they always do when you're looking at him. Your stomach flips as the scent of him drifts past your nose and you quickly turn away, covering your face with your hands. “Sorry! Sorry, I just got-”

Neighbour's son!Miguel who curls his finger into your belt loop and tugs you back to him before you can start walking away. He removes your hands from your face, placing them on his chest and sliding them up to his shoulders, then he reaches out and twirls one of your curls around his finger. “Never apologise for that, princesa,” he murmurs, admiring the soft glow on your sweet face. He chuckles and bends over to wrap you up in his arms, his cheek coming to rest on your shoulder. “But maybe not in the middle of the street, hmm, bonita?” “Okay,” you giggle softly, the sound causing his heart to swell in his chest. The two of you walk the rest of the way back home, Miguel pushing his bike alongside you. He gives you another kiss before you leave - a quick one this time, soft and chaste - and you run to your door, giggling the entire way. “Night, jellito!” you call to him once you reach your entrance. He waves back at you from his garage. “Night, bombón.” 

Neighbour's son!Miguel who's known you almost as long as your parents have. Your body tingles with excitement as you think about how little has changed between the two of you - how he'd call you his bombón when you were six years old and he was defending you from your bully, and how he called you that now, when you were twenty years old and desperate to know the feeling of his body against yours. You bite down on your grin as you close the door behind you and come face to face with your mum and sister. “So? Where did you guys go?” your mum asks when you shuffle into the house in silence. Your sister leans over the back of the sofa, not missing the thrilled look on your face. “What happened?!” You drag out the suspense for a minute longer, then you whisper in revelation, “we kissed!” The three of you squeal and hug each other in excitement and your mother discreetly shoots off a text to her friend. 

Neighbour's son!Miguel who walks into his darkened house and flips the switch for the lights, only to find a desk chair sitting in the middle of the living room. The chair turns around slowly and he comes face to face with his brother, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he takes in him. “We've been waiting for you,” Gabe murmurs, his voice dramatically low. Miguel rolls his eyes at his brother's antics and shrugs his jacket off, ignoring him. But Gabe leaps out of his chair and lets out an accusatory gasp. “¡Dios mío! You guys made out?!” “Gabi!” Miguel hisses, his eyes flickering to his mother's nervously. “We didn't … ‘make out’.” But his heart thumps in betrayal, causing the blush to crawl up his neck and across his cheeks. Gabe frowns at the nickname and turns to face their mother, a fake look of horror on his face. “¡Míralo, mamá! Look at what has become of your precious oldest son! Staying out until 12 am and coming back looking a member of a boyband who has just been attacked by his obsessive fangirl!” he moaned. “¡Ya!” Miguel exclaims, annoyed by his brother's description of you as an ‘obsessive fangirl’. “¡Callaté, tonto! Shouldn't you be in bed by now? ¿Pollito?” Gabe's brow furrows with irritation at his brother's insults. He opens his mouth to respond, but his mother interrupts him quickly. “¡Silencio! Miguel, apologise to your brother!” “Sorry, Gabe,” Miguel mumbles, gritting his teeth to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Their mother nods in satisfaction and sends the both of them up to bed. Then she grabs her phone and giddily responds to your mother's text.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose mum is just as delighted as yours that the two of you have finally gotten together. You'd spent every day of the last two weeks together, going out with your siblings and old friends only to linger back once everyone had left so you could be alone together. You'd drag him to the bookstore so he could get the books off the high shelves for you and he'd bring you to the beach so he could admire the way your swimsuit highlighted your beautiful curves. You were inevitable. And everyone had known it from the start.

Continue

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 10

an: this is my favourite part yet! Thanks for your patience! 

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 2700

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language mentions of torture, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

I can still hear ringing from hours of relentless whirling of the helicopter engine beating against my eardrums. Ghost pulls me through the snow with one rough hand wrapped around my arm and the other on his pistol. In the time it took us to fly here, he only riled himself up more. Searing, red anger radiates from beneath his suit. I dread the moment we pass through that door.

Ghost doesn’t clear the safe house. He doesn’t have to. A thermal imaging camera attached to the chopper told him no one’s been there in hours. The night vision lenses reveal to him that no one’s trampled through the slushy snow or left tracks of any kind in days. The tiny cabin is between one of their bases and a large town in Latvia. It isn’t accessible by road. Only a helicopter, ATV, or 40-mile hike from the nearest settlement will get you here. This place isn’t meant to be found. The Ultranationalists won’t have suspected us to leave the country. No one will. Even the other task members have no clue where we are. Only Price. We’re completely alone.

It’s supposed to be safer, but I feel far from safe.

The cabin shakes as he slams the door shut and flips three deadbolts. There’s no escaping him. Even if I somehow miraculously made it out of the cabin, I’d be shot dead before I could make it ten feet away. Inside I am completely blind. There isn’t an ounce of light. Ghost releases me and blood rushes to the spot on my arm he was gripping. I can feel the bruises forming already. He brushes against my back as he steps further into the dark. It’s eerily silent. There’s no traffic outside or music from neighbouring rooms or wind gusts rattling the windows. Everything is completely still. Only my heavy breathing fills the dreadful space.

A small table lamp clicks on as Ghost lets go of the chord. The tiny metal chain clinks against the glass base. He paces around, looking completely out of place. We’re in a small room with a burgundy futon, a wooden table with two chairs, a tiny wood stove, and several cabinets on the far side of the wall. This is the only room in the whole building. It’s cozy and quaint; the kind of place new couples spend too much money on for a weekend getaway. There’s also another lamp standing in the corner of the room that Ghost now switches on. The lamps cause two jagged shadows to follow him around the room. Its warmer here than at the base, but not because the heat is on. This building doesn’t have heat, but we’re closer to the ocean so everywhere’s warmer. It’s just cold enough for the snow to stick to the ground in a slushy consistency.

I stand by the door, watching as Ghost undoes the clasps on his helmet before taking it off and placing it on the wood table. His skull mask is still covered in the bloody remnants of our interviews from this morning. Next to it, he places the large assault rifle. He doesn’t offload his handgun or any of the other various weapons strapped to his person. No, he might need those yet.

Ghost pauses for a moment as he scans the room, taking in our surroundings until his eyes land on mine. As much as I want to, I can’t look away. There’s something about his eyes. There always has been. They hold so much depth it’s hard to describe. So much horror I physically can’t describe. A type of desire that I’m afraid to describe.

He silently stalks across the wooden floor, holding my gaze the entire time, holding onto his anger even longer. Ghost stops only inches away. I shift back toward the door to put some distance between us.

“Are you scared of me?” his eyes narrow as he examines my face. Ghost is a well-trained bloodhound. There’s no hiding my fear from him. He can smell it pulsing through my veins. He can hear the muscles in my heart thundering at a terrifying speed.

“Should I be?” already, my voice is unsteady.

“I would,” he says plainly. My throat tightens and my mouth runs dry.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why’d you lie to me?” he ignores my question, jumping right to the very thing that is fueling his anger. Ghost is already standing too close for comfort, utilizing his size just like he does during the interrogations.

“I didn’t lie to you,” I lower my voice. Maybe if we’re both whispering, he won’t start shouting.

“You did,” there’s venom in his voice. I can hear the rattles of a snake hiding in tall grass. If I take the wrong step, I’m sure to be bitten.

“I told you what he said. Just not all of it,” I press my sweaty palms to the side of my thighs. Ghost’s brooding eyes are shadowed by the bloody skull mask. He’s so close I can smell the tangy, metallic scent. I taste it on my tongue as I bite the inside of my cheek. I feel it in my veins as it pulses through my racing heart.

“That’s rubbish,” his brows furrow and his lower lids tighten.

“Is it?” I ask. What would he do if he were in my position? Are my actions truly that unforgivable? “Why don’t you just interview me like you do them? Then, you’d find out.”

“Because you’re not one of them,” he says with certainty. Maybe not, but are we so different? For years, people told me I was just like my father and he’s “one of them”. How different can we be?

“Maybe I am,” I push back. The rattling sounds closer. My mind is warning me to step away from the snake, but some morbid part of me wants to see what’ll happen.

“You’re not,” he states.

“How do you know?” I ask. What makes him so certain? Sure, 141 does their research before kidnapping someone, but maybe I could be an Ultranationalist. Maybe he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks. Maybe I’m the snake.

Ghost reaches into a pocket on his thigh. He pulls out his switchblade and snaps the blade out. My eyes widen as I step further back, trapping myself against the door. Ghost stalks even closer. His movements are slow and predatory. I have nowhere to go as he presses his chest into mine. The hard equipment strapped to his vest hurts as it rubs against my clothes, jutting into my flesh. One hand harshly wraps around my mouth as the other presses the tip of the blade against my cheek.

I jolt away from the pain and try to wriggle from his grasp, but it’s no use. Ghost has me pinned against the door with no escape. The pressure is sharp and I feel the skin threatening to break, any harder and he’ll draw blood.

“Simon,” I try to say his name but the words are muffled. My hands wrap around his forearm and squeeze. Not in an attempt to pull him away, but just to get him to stop. His skin is hot under my cold fingers and his tense muscles ripple beneath my palm.

When I finally make eye contact with him, my heart skips. His eyes are dark and analytical. This isn’t about hurting me. He is simply gauging my reactions. This is a test.

The skull mask leans in closer. “An Ultranationalist wouldn’t flinch. They’d lean into the pain,” he whispers. Ghost releases me, taking only a small step back. I don’t wait to catch my breath before asking my next question.

“Do you like hurting them?”

“I do,” he says with a sense of pride. It’s now that I realize he doesn’t see these men as people. In his eyes, as soon as they joined the Ultranationalists, they abdicated all their human rights.

“That’s sick.”

“Maybe,” he says, taunting. “But it’s nothing in comparison to what they do.”

I ignore his attempt at changing the topic.

“Do you like hurting me?”

“Y/n,” something in his voice changes. It’s strained, almost. I see his brows furrow at the edge of his mask. He leans back at this. “Do you think that low of me?”

“In Price’s office, the two of you mentioned intercepting a high-ranking Ultranationalist’s family member. That’s what you did to me,” I wait for him to tell me I’m wrong. I want him to tell me I’m wrong. That the families of the men they hunt aren’t being punished for their crimes. Deep down, I know I’m not. “Did you know about that?”

“I helped plan it,” Ghost admits. My throat tightens even more and I fight the urge to cry. Of course, he did. It’s all some stupid vendetta. They don’t care who’s hurt in the process. Part of me can’t help but feel betrayed. I should’ve expected it. When I look into his eyes, there’s no regret. I’m just collateral to him. There’s a larger plan at play and my life is just a small game piece.

“Were you there when it happened?” I ask. I need to know. How much of my suffering was directly because of him?

“No.”

“Do you know the things they did to me?” my voice cracks. “How they pumped me so full of drugs I couldn’t stay conscious? And when I was awake, I was sick for hours. I was so drugged up I could barely stand, let alone walk. My body didn’t feel like my own. They locked me in a dark room alone for weeks. The only time I saw another person was when I was fed just twice a day. I didn’t know if my family was okay! I still don’t! I had a bag over my head ninety percent of the time and when I couldn’t keep up, they’d grab at me and push me until I’d hit a wall or the floor. Did you know that, Simon? I am covered in bruises! Even now,” my eyes start to water, but my sadness begins to transition to anger. “You planned all of that, Simon?”

Ghost takes a moment to watch the emotions flicker across my face and weigh his options. He takes a deep breath before saying “It was a part of the plan. You were supposed to believe you were taken by the Ultranationalists, so you’d be more willing to cooperate with us. We contracted the job to one of our Russian allies so it couldn’t be directly traced back to us. The fact that you were looking into your family’s past was just a coincidence. A convenient one, but a coincidence nonetheless,” his voice is reserved. He’s holding back again and it only hurts more.

“You’re no better than them,” I hiss at him. “At least they’re honest about what they do.”

Ghost scoffs at me and when he looks at me his eyes are narrowed and his brows furrowed. “Honest,” he laughs in patronizing disgust. “You don’t know a fucking thing about them.”

“I don’t know a damn thing about you either! Everything you’ve told me was a fucking lie!” I hate to admit it, but I break first. I’m the first to raise my voice and now all bets are off.

“Have you watched the news lately? Don’t you-”

“It’s hard to watch the news when you kidnapped me!” my face is red and I feel a burning rage. I feel like I’m on fire. Like Ghost has soaked me in gasoline and struck a match.

“Shut your fucking mouth for two goddamn seconds,” he snarls. There are flames in his eyes. “Haven’t you seen the bombings? The shootings? The fucking airport attacks? Any of it? That was all them! They’ve killed thousands of people for political power and they’re only getting started,” his fists are balled at his sides as he pushes into me again. I so badly wish I was closer to his size. At least then I’d have a chance.

He’s becoming just as worked up as I am. Good. He deserves to feel what I feel. The anger. The pain. The betrayal. How fucking unfair all of this is. Ghost’s breathing becomes faster as his chest heaves with disdain. I imagine a scowl on his face as he tries to justify his actions. As he tries to justify all of the violence he is responsible for. 141 isn’t as righteous as they’d like to believe. Their hands are caked in layers upon layers of years worth of blood. Their skin underneath is stained a type of red that won’t wash off in the sink.

“If we take out Makarov and his top generals, we can disband the Ultranationalists. We can stop this utter madness from becoming any worse. If we do that, we’ll save thousands of people and stop wars before they begin,” Ghost rests both his hands on the side of my neck, his thumbs just under my ears. His grip is light, but I feel the urgency under his fingers.  “I will do anything in my power to see that happen,” he says, reigning himself in as he steps back.

“Even kill my father,” I whisper. His eyes flicker back to mine. He doesn’t need to say anything to confirm my suspicion.

“He’s a bad man, y/n,” Ghost’s voice lowers.

“You don’t know him,” the pain is evident on my face. My heart aches and I miss him.

“No. But I know what he’s done,” he watches my expressions, calculating how much he should tell me. “Last month he coordinated a shooting at a refugee camp. Could call that his specialty. Refugee camps and immigration centers, sometimes homeless shelters. He targets vulnerable people and causes that the Ultranationalists know will get people riled up. Your father is responsible for the death of hundreds of innocent people. Do you know who lived in those camps? Young families. Children who had their whole lives ahead of them. He killed them y/n.”

My face scrunches up in disgust and disbelief. I feel the bile creeping up my throat as my stomach twists itself into an impossible knot. My knees want to give out. That can’t be true. He wouldn’t do that, not the man I know. My father is an introvert who likes to buy loaves of expired bread and feed pigeons in Central Park. He runs my mother baths and cooks too much pasta and kisses me on the forehead every time I visit. He is not that man.

“You’re lying,” my bottom lip trembles. “Everything you’ve told me is a lie, why would you tell the truth now?”

“I have video,” he says coldly. “Four of these attacks alone have detailed surveillance footage of him present during the events. But he’s not always present. Often, they’re planned at a distance. He’ll have coordinated most of them from your home.”

“That’s not true,” I mumble into my sleeve as I wipe my nose. “It’s not,” the tears finally spill from my eyes. It can’t be true.

“So no, y/n, I don’t like hurting you,” Ghost cups the side of my face, his thumb brushes along my hair as he gently guides me to look at him. “But I’d do it a million times over if it means stopping Makarov.”

“Where does it end?” my voice is pleading “Makarov, then my uncle, then my father, and all of their generals. Who else do you have to kill before it can finally end? Me? Am I on that list, Simon?”

“I would never do that to you,” he murmurs as his other hand brushes away my tears. All I want is to lean into his touch. To have him hold me and tell me everything’s going to be alright.

“How can I believe you, Simon? How can I believe you after everything you’ve done? After all the lies you’ve told,” my soft voice cracks.

His thumb soothingly brushes up and down my cheek. With each deep breath he takes, his vest pushes further into my chest. Before the pressure was alarming but now, I find a strange comfort in it. I want him to say that there’s a way out of this. That maybe he was wrong about my father. That when I go home, it’ll be like I never left. Simon leans down and rests his forehead against my own. My mind drifts to the blood sprayed across the white skull.

“You can’t.”

PT11:

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Meet the Millers (part 1)

Neighbourhood dilf!Joel Miller x Reader

(AO3 mirror) TLOU Masterlist

summary: Your neighbour, Joel Miller, has always caught your eye. After a perfect storm of events, you end up in his house. Or more accurately, in his bed. 

warnings: pwp, at least half of this is just smut, fingering, grinding, squirting, dirty talk, eventual fwb, reader and Joel are oblivious asf, a bit of angst (bc i love any excuse for angst). 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this will be a (short) series! lowkey just an excuse for me to write fwb!Joel lmao. Also, don’t look too closely: it's an au set in 2004 cuz I said so.

wc: 4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knows exactly what he's doing. Joel Miller on Mrs Harris’ porch, in a tank top and snug jeans, wiping the sweat of his brow. Fucking delicious in the hot summer air. 

You're not watching, of course. Just…. checking the mailbox. It's not an excuse to see the way his arms ripple as he tugs at the cord of the lawnmower, or how his tanned back flexes in the sun. Nope. Not at all. 

You sidle up to the mailbox, giving discreet glances at Joel on the porch opposite. The rip and roar of the lawnmower is so loud, you barely hear him call out to you. 

"Hey neighbour!" He calls, giving you a wave. The hem of his shirt slides up to reveal his v-line. You make a point to keep your eyes upwards. 

"Hey yourself!" You open up the mailbox to find a couple of letters. Perfect for pretending like you weren't ogling the man opposite a mere few metres away. Unbeknownst to you, he chuckles at your attempt to distract yourself from him. He thinks it's cute. He jogs across the road. 

"I got something for you," Your eyes practically bulge out your head. "Think Sarah took your spare keys by accident." Oh. Oh. She'd been coming over to feed your cat for a couple weeks, whilst you were away. Procrastinating, as usual, you'd been putting off getting your keys back for the past week. 

~~~

You'd moved in about six months ago. As someone who worked from home, you'd quickly built an odd routine. Joel was in the same boat: a contractor, working odd hours, some days at home and some days working from 8am to 8pm. As a new neighbour, you tried not to make a splash - quiet and respectful in the quiet Texan suburb. No kids, no husband - just you and your cat, Arlo. 

You didn't ask for him in your life: sometimes seeing Joel in his yard or packing up his truck. Occasionally, you'd pass each other picking up the morning paper, or late at night after your runs. Sarah was the one to say hi first, complimenting your clothes just before a night out. You're waiting for a cab on the front porch when you see her. 

"Hey neighbour!" She called, her dad behind her slamming the boot in a huff. 

You wave back, dolled up in a little black dress and probably a little too much makeup. "Hey, yourself!" 

She jogs towards you. "God, that is a cute dress! I've been bugging my dad for ages to let me get one just like it, where's it from?" She knocks you off guard, stuttering as you tell her the brand. 

"Thanks, it's not too expensive either, and it has pockets ," Despite yourself, you give her a twirl, showing off its hidden feature. 

"No freakin' way!" Sarah smiles warmly, hand on your arm and introduces herself. "Sarah. We met at the potluck a couple weeks ago."

You furrow your brow. "Oh, the Millers! Of course, you brought the veggie hotdogs and grilled kebabs." 

She nods. "We haven't had the chance to say hi yet! My dad, Joel…" she turns to wave at the man who stands at the car, arms crossed like a gruff bulldog. "...he's not the friendliest. But Mrs Harris, next to us, says you came round and took a look at her computer. She said it was half dead and you fixed it up for her; you… work at a fancy tech company and you're really good at that stuff? So, I've got a weird question to ask."

"We were wondering if you could have a look at our new computer for us? I think we messed it up trying to set up and it keeps coming up with this blank blue screen…. no pressure of course! A-And we'll pay you in pancakes and coffee!" The young girl seems jittery, bouncing on the balls of her feet. You can't say no to her. 

"S-sure. I've got some time, tomorrow morning. Let's say… after 9? If that's okay with your dad."

She squeals, almost knocking you over in a frantic hug. "Thank you, thank you! Dad? Dad, guess what…?"

She bounds off into her Dad's arms, excitedly babbling about your conversation. You chuckle to yourself in the light of the streetlamps. You'd noticed him around, of course. He's the only one on your street the same age as you: the rest were old and retired. At the potluck, he manned the grill, reserved but skilful. A man of few words, but Joel Miller laughed and smiled like a hyena around his daughter. It was sweet. You were happy to help. 

The morning after, you felt rough, admittedly. Technically, you'd gone out for networking - strictly business. But one work drink turned into two, two turned into three; and then you were downing shots until 3 in the morning. The pounding headache at your temples seemed punishment enough. Shit. The time. 

You get to Joel's at 15 past 9, impressive considering that you were in bed 10 minutes ago. You're dressed in a light sundress and slippers, standing on the doorstep. You knock, and Joel opens the door: scruffy and in a t-shirt and low gray joggers. There's the scruff of a 5 o'clock shadow on his face; making him look rugged and good in the morning light. You're imagining how it would feel on your thighs, rough beard scratching at the plush skin, dragging your sweet cunt on the apex of his nose….. 

"Sarah's upstairs," He clears his throat, morning voice low and gruff. 

 "I'm not too early? Looks like I woke you up." You walk in and he points you up the stairs. 

"S'alright sweetheart. It's not a bad view to wake up to." 

You almost trip up the stairs at the implication. Joel's behind you, hand steady at the crook of your back to stop you from falling. 

"I j-just meant getting our computer fixed. Sarah's been so excited and I'm not good at that kinda thing…" 

"I get it. You're okay." You chuckle. He's beautifully flushed, hand snaking around the back of his neck to scratch at it nervously. "But is this all okay with you? She kinda ambushed me yesterday, and I can't make any promises-" 

"-she tends to do that. She looks at you with those big brown eyes and then all of a sudden…."   ...you're in your hot neighbour's house, on your hands and knees. To fix his computer, of course. "That's my Sarah. I'd be more scared if she wasn't my own."

You like her. She's buzzing through her door when you walk up the stairs, excited. She grabs your hand and leads you to Joel's office. "Morning! So, I've been fiddling around with the parts but I can't get her to turn on…"

"Her?" You laugh. 

"Her name is Carol, and she's basically my kid." She kneels at the wires under the desk. "Dad had no clue how to set this up so, of course, I had to do everything. See, with this cord…" 

She chatters as she explains her process. You find out she's funny, and bright: a smart young kid who sourced most of the materials herself. Frankly, she reminds you of yourself; a young upstart in college looking for an explosive new career. Under his desk, you trace the cables and explain what they all do, peeling back the clunky tower to find the source of the problem. Sarah listens, intently, asking you questions about how it all works - clearly inquisitive. Joel watches at the doorway, equally enraptured. The technical details all go over his head, but he softens when he sees Sarah so free with you. You laugh at her jokes and indulge all her questions, no matter how small. You are kind and patient with her, refusing to be patronising; engaging her at her own level. 

When you finish up, Joel calls you downstairs for coffee and pancakes, as promised. Sarah races down the stairs, and you trail behind her. From the kitchen, Joel likes the way you look in his home, in a pretty dress and a smile on your face. He shakes the sudden thought out of his head. 

"Dad, I swear to god, Lindsey's not gonna believe it. She told me about MySpace, but she didn't think I'd actually do it-"

"Lindsey? S'that the girl who came to your party, the one with the buck teeth?" He says, between mouthfuls of pancakes. 

"That's Linda, Lindsey's-" 

"The one in your math class, right? With the-" You put your hands up by head to mimic horns, pulling a face that makes her laugh. It makes him laugh, too. 

It's been a couple of hours, when you get back home. You collapse on the couch, warm and content. It becomes the beginning of a gentle back and forth with the Millers. 

~~~

"You alright there, sweetheart?" 

You've spaced out on Joel's sofa. Joel’s by the kitchen island, rummaging around the drawers and running a lazy hand through his locks. With the way his arms flex and stretch with ease, you’re left practically drooling; head swimming with all the ways you could make his legs buckle, or how his hand would feel between your thighs, or…

He cocks his head to the side in amusement. “Think I lost you again.”

Embarrassed, you cringe into yourself. “Sorry, Joel. Just thinking.”

“....about?” He prompts.

“Work. Mostly.” You lie. “Sarah, too. Thinking about if she knows you whore yourself out to the neighbours like this.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He keep his head down, pointedly.

“... I bet Mrs Harris enjoys the view, then.” You say it under your breath, but he hears and laughs. Quiet, at first and then roaring; laughing so hard tears form at his eyes.

“You're gonna kill me, sweetheart .” he laughs.

Time and time again, the pet name makes something at the pit of your stomach bubble. At first, you thought it was Southern hospitality, something you weren’t used to before moving down here. The doll’ s and the bless ‘yer heart ’s rolled off your back coming from everyone else; at the grocery store, grabbing lunch, at the bank. But coming from Joel : with a warmth that knocks you over every time? It would be the death of you, you’re sure.

“What’s she payin’ you, then?” 

His back is turned now, head into the depths of a cupboard. “..just needed to get out the house. M’goin’ crazy in here.”

You hum. “It’s quiet downtown?”

“Too quiet. The Kier contract finished a while ago, and now m’just twiddling my thumbs waiting for another one to tide me over.” He peeks out from the wooden frame. “I think I’m actually bored without Sarah.”

You giggle. God, he was such a softie. A couple days of Sarah at a summer camp and Joel seemed to be bouncing off the walls already. It was cute, even if the deep furrows in his brow made him look so frustrated. “I think if she heard that she wouldn’t let me live it down.” 

You’re up now, palms dragging along the surface of the counter, a grin as big as a dinner plate plastered on your face. “Wouldn’t it be such a shame if someone were to tell her…”

He stops, dead still. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You get a little closer. “I would.”

He narrows his eyes as you step closer, until the tips of your noses almost brush together. “You-”

“- would. ” You say, barely a whisper. Thick, long eyelashes frame the chocolate brown of his eyes: stormy, lidded. You can't help it, in the tension. Your own eyes flick towards his lips and you bite down words that are a little… inappropriate. 

Instead, you tap the drawer by your hip and open it up to a tray of knick knacks. In the rough and tangle, your spare keys sit squarely in the nest. Joel grabs them and takes your hand, softly, to put them in your palm. 

"You wanna stay? For a drink?" 

You cut the air with melodious laughter. "It's 11am, Joel."

Indifferent, he shrugs. "I've got some beer in the fridge, and an empty house. Could do with some good company…"

"...why not?" You smile. 

You sit on a battered loveseat outside, on his deck. The sun is shining, the sliding door open, and you're nestled in the cushions next to Joel. He sits closer than expected, a lazy arm draped on the back of the furniture and the other swigging a cold beer. You place yours in the gap of your lap, giggling at the way he clinks your bottles together. He makes you feel like a teenager, the meat of your thighs peeking out from your shorts and touching the cool glass. 

"Didn't think I'd see you out this morning.

"And why's that?" You ask. 

"Would'a thought you'd be nursing a pretty mean hangover." He shrugs. 

"Ummm…?" 

"I saw you last night," He explains. "Real late, stumblin' out of a taxi. You were wearing a different dress to the last time, so I just thought-" 

"Well, last time it was work drinks."

"S'always work drinks, sweetheart." Your heart goes thud-thud. Sweetheart. 

"Last night, it was a date." You see him clench his jaw and tense up slightly. 

"...But?" He prompts, taking a long swig of his beer. 

"But…" You sigh. "I got stood up."

He almost does a spit take, choking on his drink. His eyebrows are raised, confused. " Seriously? " 

"Seriously." You deadpan. "Probably should've known. He sounded weird on the phone a couple of days before…"

"-He didn't call you right before your date?" 

" God Joel , I know how it sounds, okay? Thought I was overreacting but I guess I'm not good at seeing red flags."

He deliberates for a moment. "Yeah, me neither."

It's your turn to be confused, and so he clarifies. "Sarah's mom."

Your mouth forms a silent Oh , in realisation. You put a hand on his arm, that flopped down by your side. "Was it just you and her in the beginning?" 

"Me and Sarah? Sure feels like it." He mumbles. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"She's a good kid." You say softly. "You did good." 

He grunts in affirmation before turning to you. "You're probably the smartest person I know. Sarah looks up to you for good reason. You dodged a bullet. That dickbag doesn't know what he's missing." 

"Thanks, Joel." And then you titter, softly. "Would've been nice to get laid, though."

He makes a face you can't quite read, so you nudge him with your elbow. "Not like that! It's just been a while with work and-" 

"You're okay, sweetheart." He smiles with a faraway look in his eyes. Unceremoniously, he downs the rest of his beer, and says something you don't quite hear. 

"I could help with that." He tucks away your hair absentmindedly, and rests his hand by your cheek.

"Huh?" You almost splutter. It comes out like an unintelligible garble. 

"I could make you feel good." A little louder this time, but low and sultry. The tips of his fingers brush your cheek. Honestly, it makes you short circuit, overloading your brain with a million ways to interpret his words. He takes your silence for a no. 

Apologetically, he says, "Forget I said anythin’-" 

You kiss him, impossibly soft at first. You lean into one another, gulping down air with the way your chest pounds. It could be the beer, or Joel, but you feel light-headed when you separate. He stays close, thumb on your chin and never once breaks eye contact. 

"Need to hear you say it." He strains. 

From your mouth comes the three words it feels like he's been waiting a lifetime for. You chew your lip, but without missing a beat you say what you both need to hear. " I want you ." 

He crashes his lips to yours this time, sloppy and needy and desperate. You want to swallow him whole, warmth radiating off you both. You're not thinking when you clamber onto his lap, dragging your pussy on his jeans. Groaning, he separates like it's all too much. 

" F-fuck, sweetheart. "

You're sure it's suggestive, in tiny sleep shorts and no bra, eaten up in a large t-shirt. The material of your panties have been swallowed up by your cunt, soaking wet. You need his hands on you, but he seems surprisingly chaste - having them rest on your back for now. Smiling into the kiss, you tug them lower and he squeezes the plush of your ass in response. You reward him with a moan and the delicious roll of your hips in his lap. Joel’s rock hard in his jeans, and you savor the feeling of it against your pussy.

“Want you to be more specific, doll. What do you want?” He pauses to nip at the juncture of your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You can’t think properly with the way his hands knead at your hips and your ass; strong, rough palms brushing against your skin under your shirt.

Without thinking, you croak. “Y-your hands. Need your fingers in me.” 

He groans, hips jumping up at your words, and then takes a moment with his head on your shoulder. Cursing, he lifts you up with ease so you're on his lap facing the garden. 

He slaps a big palm on the crotch of your shorts, making you jump. One strong around your waist, the others strums at your clothed cunt - rubbing you until you're soaked through. You turn your neck as much as you can to suck hickeys into the base of his neck. Flushed, you realise just how exposed you two are: with the slatted wooden fence barely covering you from view. All your neighbours had to do was step out into their gardens to see you writhing on Joel's lap. Against all reason, the thought makes you wetter, and you whine. 

Ever perceptive, Joel traces his hand around the waistband of your shorts. "You like this, don't you darlin'?" 

You whine when he dips his hand lower, barely glancing your clit. "F-Fuck… don't know.. what you're talking 'bout." 

His other hand snakes under your shirt, slowly but surely brushing against the apex of your nipples. "That someone could see us…"

"N-no, Joel-" 

"That someone could see you fucked out on my lap like this. Like a dirty slut…"  

"J-Joel-" 

"Can't go saying my name like that, sweetheart. Someone might hear you," He wrenches your legs open with his knees and finally, finally, circles your clit quicker. " Fuck, fuuuck, listen to how wet you are f'me. Prettiest fuckin' whore this side of town.…you make the prettiest noises.."

It's not fair, really. He kneads at your tits, sending pleasure up your spine at the way he manhandles you. He slips a thick finger into your hole and you clench at the stretch. The bulge of his cock rocking into your ass, his fingers at your pussy, and a hand pawing at your tits? You had no chance. 

"M'gonna cum, fuck , Joel m'gonna.."

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

His voice is low and tender, and pushes you off the edge. With a moan, your walls clamp down onto his finger, and you see white in the heat of your orgasm. It's been a while since you've cummed; usually a desperate hand in your pussy for a quickie every now and then; but the feeling is amplified 10 times as much with Joel whispering obscenities into your ear. You shake with the aftermath and pull him into a deep kiss. 

"You ok?" He asks, the concern making you laugh after the filth he had been saying mere seconds ago. You nod, smiling warmly at him in the morning sun. He gives you another kiss and then you jump as he slips another finger in you. 

"Wanna give you another one," Eyes lidded, he slows, waiting for permission. "And another, and another. As many as you'll let me."

You nod, gently, and he picks up the pace. His fingers go in and out of your sopping hole, thumb tightly on your clit. Joel's fingers are magical - unwavering and hitting all the right spots. He plays you like a guitar, listening for your moans and the way your body reacts - strumming this way and that to get you to orgasm. And you do, again, but gentler; bliss washing over you like the tide. 

He's your neighbour, and you've never seen him like this: in a trance-like state, moulded into you and hellbent on your pleasure. All you can do is sink into his embrace, drunk on him and the way his lips taste - beer and breathmints - in the airy light of the morning. 

He's coaxing you through your third orgasm when you feel it, a pressure just behind your swollen clit. Joel notices the way your legs shiver and the subtle shake of your hips. 

"You're so beautiful." He says, pumping faster. "Knew it when I saw you in that little dress, tits spillin' out and I knew it when I saw you today. You look so good with my hand buried in your cunt, humpin' my lap like a bitch in heat..."

"J-Joel I can't…"

"You can, baby, jus' one more." 

"I can't.."

"So, so close for me, please . Cum on my fingers f'me, sweetheart , please -" 

With a sob, you clamp down on his fingers once more. Your orgasm ripples down your body, like a tight thread snapped in a split second. Liquid gushes from your cunt; so much his hand and your shorts are covered in it. Did you just…? The pressure at the base of your stomach peters off, and Joel talks you through it. 

He covers you in kisses at the apples of your cheek, your forehead, anywhere he can reach. "Did so good f'me. You're such a good girl, baby."

You whine when he separates his hand from your slick. Groaning, he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean; of which his fervor makes you dizzy. All you can do is watch, exhausted but satisfied, through lidded eyes. He rubs your knee with his other hand. 

"Let's get you cleaned up." Nonchalant, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. You bury your head in the crook of his shoulder, embarrassed at the mess you've made. Joel only laughs, squeezing you into a hug. 

~~~

Simply put, he's a gentleman; making you feel completely at ease. He urges you towards a hot shower, with a change of clothes folded neatly by the door. It's his clothes - Sarah's were too small to fit - and they're big but familiar on your body. You traipse down the stairs in Joel's old sweats and a flannel, padding into the kitchen. Joel's at the hob, wearing a new t-shirt and loose tartan bottoms. You try not to think about how he was almost elbow deep in your pussy not too long ago. Or how he made you see stars more times in an hour than you have in months . 

"Just made lunch." He stirs at the pot on the stove. You sidle up to him, close but careful. He dips in a finger to the sauce he's making. "Pasta. Think it's missing something, though." 

Without thinking, you hold his hands to your lips and suck the sauce off his finger. "More salt, maybe?" 

He looks a little dumbfounded. Oh. Oh. God, you can't help it when he looks like that, stormy and brooding and… 

"More salt it is, then. You could help me finish it? I can put on a movie or somethin’."

You want to, you really do. It would be like heaven with your head on Joel Miller's shoulder, on the sofa - seeing him soft and domestic . Like a relationship.

"I should head home, I think." You don't exactly know the etiquette for one night stands. "Next time."

To be honest, you didn't even know if this counted as a one night stand? Just sex? Friends with benefits? Would there even be a next time? 

His smile seems rueful for a second before he nods. 

"Next time, sweetheart."

_

_

_

[helloalycia]

the Clarks [four] // alicia clark

summary: the last thing you expect is for the world to basically end, but you're grateful you have the Clarks by your side as it does.

warning/s: mentions of the dead, blood, death and drug withdrawals.

author's note: this chapter was originally one super long one so i split into two short ones, hence why this is a little on the shorter end compared to others. Hope you like it nonetheless! one part left after this 🥰

one / two / three / five / masterlist / wattpad

A few hours later, as the sun was setting, my mum finally made it home in one piece. As soon as I saw her car pulling in the driveway from the Clarks front window, I was about to go and check on her per Madison's request, but Madison beat me to it and insisted she come with me.

"Okay...," I agreed with confusion. "But she'll be fine. She wasn't sick this morning and I doubt she's suddenly caught a cold between then and now."

Madison was unconvinced but joined my side nonetheless, but not without casting a final glance at Alicia, saying, "Don't leave the house. We won't be long."

Alicia rolled her eyes but nodded, joining her brother on the couch. Madison and I left for my house, myself letting her in and hoping my mum wouldn't be in a mood and start berating me or, even worse, Madison.

"Mum? You home?" I called out, closing the front door and going into the living-area. "Mum–?"

"Will you keep it down!" her familiar voice hissed from the couch, and Madison and I stopped when we saw her laying across it, head under a cushion. "I'm trying to sleep here!"

I sighed, rolling my eyes and shooting Madison an 'I told you so' look. "Okay, sorry. I'm heading over to the Clark's house."

"Whatever."

Remembering why I hated being here, I dragged Madison back out the front door and we walked back to hers.

"See?" I said knowingly. "Nothing out the ordinary. Still as hostile as usual."

Madison glanced back at my house. "Hmm, yeah... d'you wanna stay at ours tonight? I'm sure Alicia would appreciate the help with Nick."

"You sure it won't be too much with Travis and his family coming around?"

She shook her head, patting me on the back as she motioned for me to go through the front door. "Of course not. There's always room for you here, you know that."

I smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Madison."

When we returned to the living room, Nick was trying to listen to the radio as Alicia was distracted by her phone, probably messaging Matt. When she saw us returning, she looked back to us both.

"How's your mum?" she asked, earning Nick's attention, the two of them waiting.

"Still hates me," I joked, making Madison tut disapprovingly, and I was forced to change my comment. "Sorry. I meant, she's still her usual tired self after a long day of work. Happy now?"

Madison sighed and headed for the kitchen as Nick and Alicia gave me sympathetic glances, but I shrugged them off and sat on the armchair. Alicia put on the TV and we put on the news, per Nick's request, confused at all the chaos happening in the city with some protests. We didn't get to watch it long enough to understand the issue however, as the electricity suddenly cut off, leaving us in the bare bones of light of dusk coming through the windows.

"Kids? You okay?" Madison called out from the kitchen, and we yelled in confirmation. Not long later, the blonde returned with candles and matches. "Help me light these."

As we discussed why the power had suddenly gone out, Nick started mumbling about the power grid and losing control and a bunch of other nonsense that Alicia and I exchanged looks at. Maybe he was still a little delusional from his withdrawal, who knew?

After we finished lighting and spreading out the candles, we all heard a high-pitched scream from outside, startling everyone and making us run to the front window to see what was happening. My own eyes widened when I saw the neighbours across the road running as someone chased them, attacking them with a weapon of some sort. There was blood covering their clothes and it didn't look good.

"Mum, we have to do something!" Alicia exclaimed, before tugging my arm to the door.

"No! You can't go out there!" Nick shouted, and Madison jumped in front of us both before we could leave.

"Your brother's right, it's too dangerous!" she said sternly.

I looked at her with disbelief. "Madison, they need help, we can't just sit and–"

"Nobody leaves this house, understood?!" she ordered, and I breathed out with surprise. She looked to Nick, saying, "Lock the windows and doors now, son."

I blinked, glancing at the window. "I have to go back home. Mum's alone and–"

"Is everything locked up?" Madison asked, sensing my concerns. "Doors? Windows?"

I nodded, almost sure. "I think so. Unless she opened something before she passed out. But she doesn't usually–"

"Then she'll be okay," Madison said with certainty. "It's not safe out there, Y/N. Stay here, okay? Just until Travis gets back and then we'll check on your mum together."

I wasn't convinced, but it definitively wasn't safe out there and I wasn't sure what else to do. Mum would be fine, right?

"Stay here," Alicia said after a moment, taking my hand and earning my attention. "I'll come with you later."

If I wasn't convinced before, I certainly was now. Anything Alicia asked, I was sure I'd do – this included. So, with a reluctant sigh, I nodded and gave in.

How was I supposed to know what this 'sickness' was? How was I supposed to know that the news and the neighbours and the electricity going out were all signs for what would happen?

After everything went wrong that night, the neighbours changing right before our eyes, Travis and his family returning, looking like they'd seen a ghost, Alicia almost dying... I dreaded what that could mean for my mother.

It wasn't until I raced to the living-area with my heart in my throat when I saw my mum snarling at the wall, her back facing me. It should have been obvious what was wrong, especially after what I'd seen moments before, but I refused to believe it.

"Mum?" I asked nervously, taking a step forward. "You okay?"

Her snarling quietened as she paused, tilting her head, then she turned around and I saw the worst. Her jaw was slacken, bloody and spit around her lips, eyes grey and blank, skin rough... she looked dead, just like the others, and tears burned my lids.

"Y/N, stay away from her!" Madison exclaimed, tugging me back before my mum could grab me with her outreached fingers.

Travis rushed in behind us with the shotgun he used to stop the neighbour with earlier and pointed it directly at my mum.

"Wait, just wait–" I tried to make them stop, hoping I could figure out something else. Maybe she wasn't one of them? Maybe it was reversible?

"Y/N, honey, we gotta go," Madison said, trying to pull me back, but I fought against her.

"Just wait! She might be okay! She might–!"

"Maddie, get her out of here!" Travis warned, moving backwards as my mum approached him.

"Y/N, come on!" Madison shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me out the front door.

"Just wait! Please, just–!"

BANG.

She was my mother. A bad one who probably hated my very existence, but she was still my mother and she didn't deserve to die like this.

"We need to go back inside, sweetie," Madison said softly, pulling me towards her for a hug, but I could barely hear her, the sound of the shotgun repeating in my mind.

The last ever sight of my mum was an undead, bloody mess and I wasn't sure I could ever un-see it.

19 years old — 21 days later...

We'd found some abandoned-looking hotel to take refuge in for the moment – Madison, Alicia and I, along with Strand and Ofelia, some friends we'd made whilst escaping the city. Everything had gone so horribly wrong these past few days, with the Abigail being taken, Travis leaving to find Chris who'd gone on the run after trying to kill Madison and Alicia, and Nick choosing to leave his family altogether.

The last one was the one I couldn't quite understand. How could he choose to leave his family in the middle of an apocalypse? You don't just leave family behind, especially not now, not when surviving is impossible without them. It hurt, even more when he asked me to come with him, but how could I? How could I just leave Madison and Alicia?

I was pissed off and hurt to say the least. He should have been better to them, no matter what. And it had clearly affected Alicia more than she was letting on.

Madison and Strand were having a look downstairs in the hotel to make sure there were no infected. Meanwhile, Ofelia, Alicia and I took to the upstairs to check the hotel rooms. As Ofelia wandered off down the hall, I used this as my chance to check in with Alicia.

"Hey," I said quietly, falling into step with her. She glanced at me, expressionless, so I continued, "You okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

I tried to read how she was feeling, searching her eyes for something beyond this feigned nonchalant persona she had, but there was nothing. "Nick."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she said, "He chose to leave. I can't change that."

I tilted my head slightly. "I know that, but it's still shitty and he shouldn't have done it."

She released a deep breath as she looked down, avoiding my eyes. I knew her well enough to know that she cared a lot for him, even if she tried to pretend she didn't.

"I can go and look for him if you want," I offered, wanting her to be okay. "Bring him back."

At this, she immediately stopped walking and looked to me like I was insane. "Hell no! You're not going out there, risking your life because he wants to have a pout! You're not cleaning up his messes for him again!"

I swallowed awkwardly, surprised by her sudden outburst. "Okay, you're right. Sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"No!" she exclaimed again, flustered and irritated and in disbelief. "Why would you even say something like that?!"

"Alicia, I–"

"He chose to leave!" she reminded me with a glare, and I soon realised it wasn't aimed at me. "He– he thought it was safer out there than it was with us, so he can live with that! But you– you're not going! I'm not losing you, too!"

Frowning when I saw her eyes tearing up, I tried to take back my words. "Alicia–"

"It doesn't matter," she said stubbornly, before looking away and pushing past me to go to Ofelia.

I watched her go, my heart squeezing with guilt. For God's sake, Nick, why did you have to leave?

As we searched a few rooms, soon realising the ones with a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door handles were full of infected, we stayed in a room to use the shower and get into a change of clothes. Thankfully, by a miracle, the water was still working and we didn't know for how long, so Alicia showered first. Ofelia left to get some fresh air and I was stuck gathering some clothes for my shower next, whilst also wondering how to talk to Alicia without upsetting her yet again.

Soon enough, I heard Alicia leaving the bathroom and turned to see her walking to the mirror, fully dressed but with wet hair and a towel in hand.

"You can go," she said briefly, before facing the mirror.

I nodded, chewing my lip awkwardly and standing up. I hesitated, glancing at her as she wiped her face with her towel, then decided to grow a pair and talk to her.

"Alicia?"

"What?"

"D'you wanna talk about it?"

She paused, still not turning to look at me, then answered firmly. "No."

Figuring it was too soon, I respected her decision with a nod and was about to go to the bathroom. Then, she spoke up again, stopping me.

"Why did he go?"

I turned around, seeing her looking at the counter with sad eyes.

"Why would he just leave?" she continued, voice so quiet she sounded like a kid. "He's supposed to be my brother."

I approached her cautiously, not wanting to push her away when she was finally opening up. "I can pretend to understand Nick's decisions, but I never have. I understand why you're upset, Alicia. I am, too. He was supposed to stick by me, too. I didn't think he'd just go."

"He asked you to go with him," she said, neither accusatory or upset, and looked up at me. "Why didn't you?"

"Why would I?"

She pursed her lips, green eyes darting between mine as if trying to find the truth. But I was telling it, she had to know that.

"He's your best friend," she started, but I stopped her, knowing where she was going with it.

"He's an arsehole," I said, my frustration peeking through without meaning to. "He shouldn't have left you. His job is to be there for his family. That's what family does! There was no way I was going with him, Alicia."

She nodded slowly. "Please, don't go after him. If you go too, I wouldn't know what to do."

Without thinking, I stepped forward and cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet my eyes and see the honesty. "I promise you, I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here with you. Okay?"

She nodded, lips curving into a frown, before suddenly pulling me close and hugging me. Her arms wrapped around my neck tightly, not letting go so soon, and I returned the gesture, not quite ready to either.

21 years old...

Never did I think the Clarks and I would find a place to call home again since we lost our own over two years ago, and yet that's exactly what we'd done. Built a home in the Dell Diamond Baseball Stadium in Texas, of all places.

Sometimes, I could barely believe it was as safe and well-equipped as it was, that we didn't have to worry about infected or rival gangs or anything. We could just live and build a new life in a shared community, and that was enough. Madison had worked extremely hard to make this place what it was, and we'd all worked with her to keep it a safe haven.

Some of the benefits included actually being able to eat a proper breakfast every morning, such as now. I was sat with Nick, who was bugging me and trying to dare me to put chilli powder on my scrambled eggs.

"Nick, please fuck off," I said as politely as I could, making him smirk.

"Buzz kill."

"No, I'm just not five," I said knowingly, looking at him over my coffee cup. "I don't do dares."

"You didn't seem to have that attitude when you dared me to jump in the river the other day," he said with a quirked brow.

I tried not to smile at the memory. "You're the idiot who agreed. Not my fault."

He rolled his eyes playfully as Alicia and Nick's girlfiend, Luciana, approached our table and joined us.

"Nick, are you annoying Y/N again?" Luci asked as she shoved him in the arm slightly. "Leave her alone."

"Unfortunately, he hasn't left me alone since we were kids," I told her before he could answer, making him scoff and Luci smile.

"Good morning," Alicia said, flashing me a smile as she sat beside me with her breakfast tray.

I returned her smile, trying ever so hard to ignore the butterflies I'd felt for her for an embarrassingly long time now. "Morning."

"You still on for the supply run today after lunch?" she asked as she started to dig in to her eggs.

I nodded in agreement. "Definitely."

It was supposed to be her, me and a few other residents, and I always loved going on a supply run. I suppose it helped when my partner was Alicia. What could I say? If you fell in love with someone over the course of your lifetime, it was kind of hard to just get over it.

After enjoying breakfast together, the others went their separate ways whilst Alicia and I stuck to our usual morning routine of doing the rounds around the stadium, checking in on all the different stations. It was the best start to my day, for obvious reasons.

We checked in on the gardens, the greenhouse, the kitchens – everywhere – before reaching the final station, the training area. One of the new residents we'd accepted into the stadium recently, Rick, was stealing the show as he threw knife after knife, hitting every target in the centre like a pro. It would have been impressive if he wasn't so flirty with Alicia since he'd arrived. Unfair of me, I know, but I was allowed to be jealous, surely.

"Wow, someone's been practicing," Alicia commented with an impressed smile once he was done.

He smiled, shrugging. "I've just got good aim."

She shook her head, crossing her arms. "Seriously, Rick, that's so good. Where did you learn?"

"Just comes with time," he admitted in a perfectly polite way, and yet I hated it.

She hummed, glancing around. "You ever thought about teaching it? There's a lot of people here who'd love to learn, I'm sure."

He mirrored her stance, crossing his arms, and met her eyes with mischief. "That depends. Would you be in the class?"

Taken aback, Alicia's cheeks began to turn pink. "I– well– possibly. I could always learn something new."

"Then how could I say no?" he played along with a cheeky smile, checking her out.

I couldn't help the face I pulled as I looked between them both, instantly getting put off. It was hard to tell if Alicia was interested in him, but she was definitely flustered by his obvious flirting and suddenly turned into a blushing mess. Deciding I didn't want to witness it however, I left them to it as they continued chatting and flirting and overall making me regret eating breakfast because I was certain I was gonna vomit.

"Hey, grumpy pants, what's up?" Madison appeared out of nowhere as I walked away, then glanced behind us at Alicia. "New guy'a really taken a liking to Alicia, huh?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I guess."

Madison raised an eyebrow with amusement. "What? Don't approve?"

Hiding my jealousy the best I could, I shrugged. "It's none of my business."

"Huh, okay," was all she said, hiding a smile, before she asked, "Can you help me with something in the greenhouse? Could use an extra pair of hands."

"Sure thing."

"You sure Alicia won't mind me stealing you?"

I swallowed hard, nodding. "She's a little preoccupied. She won't even notice."

Madison chuckled before patting my back. "Alright, sweetie, c'mon."

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Because The Road Home (leads me right to your door)

TW: she/her pronouns, drinking to excess, cursing, sloppy drunks

Neighbour au in which one gets drunk and ends up knocking at the other’s door, drunkenly trying to argue with the neighbor and- instead- passing out in their living room.

“No because like that’s the problem with Christmas, right?” she licks her lips, leans in closer to the person next to her, “Because it’s a capitalist hell hole we live in-“

somehow, the person next to her is even more drunk than she is, swaying in place with slanted eyes.

“No, dude.” He slurs, “you’re right. like-“

she tries to pay attention to him speaking, looks at his lips as he talks and rests the rim of an overused solo cup to her lips. it’s filled to the brim with red wine, which has sloshed over multiple times and stained the front of her white sweater already, a problem for later.

She’s enough drinks in to have false confidence, can feel her lips buzz and her fingers tingle. Confident enough to interrupt her friend in front of her, she finally speaks:

“y’know what?” she stops long enough to hiccup.

Your equally drunk friend, Geoff, nods, doesn’t even care that she interrupted him mid thought (and the thoughts were fleeting) “Go on.” he encourages her.

“I’m gonna go in and finally give that fucking neighbor next door a piece of our mind.”

Geoff nods, immediately sold:

“the one with the music?”

“yes!” she’s borderline yelling, “the fucker with the music. i’m tired of everyone here not being able to study because of him.”

Geoff nods once: “do it.” he pauses for a second, a smirk snaked onto his lip: “i dare you.”

and that’s all she needs to stumble across the lawn, yelling the entire time, working herself up-when she looks back Geoff is gone, probably distracted, but the red hot anger from the alcohol still burns warm in her chest, finds herself as he fist raises to the door and the blows land

“i know you’re there, fucker.”

Suddenly aware of how cold it is, she rubs her hands along her arms as if that will offer warmth, make a jacket appear like magic. she can hear the music from inside; not as loud as usual, but enough to build the hot anger up that swells in her stomach until her hand rests along the door again

as if he planned it, the door whips open and a frazzled man answers.

“Hello?”

his voice borders on panic, or worry, you aren’t sure which, but you push it down.

“you.”

a smirk appears on his lips, takes over his mouth as he leans against the doorframe, crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly the picture perfect, calm man now.

“Me?” he muses. immediately, he can tell she’s past drunk; swaying in place, the slurring words, the squinted eyes

she’s had run ins with him before but on a much milder scale-bringing mail to him when Geoff is too awkward to drop it off. the time he came home early and pulled into his driveway was she fed a stray that was attracted to his front porch for some reason-

“Yes-you!” she huffs, a stomped foot. finding the confidence that rolls and snakes around in your belly she takes a step forward and presses a finger hard into his chest:

“you and your music!”

“my music?” he giggles, “what about my music, princess? hm?”

“To begin with,” she removes her finger from his chest long enough to tick them off on her fingers: “it’s loud.”

“Right,” hasan nods, “go on, then.”

“and! and it’s obnoxious.”

“obnoxious,” he muses, “that sure is a word to use. maybe not the right word-“

“And!”

she tries again and he laughs, stands up a little straighter: “oh damn, I thought we were done. I have to hear this. Off you go, then.”

“Like i was trying to say!” her head spins and she rests her hand on the doorframe, knocking his own off in the move to do so, “and it’s-“

“princess?” he finally manages, though it still sounds like he’s holding in a laugh, “you alright?”

“of course i am.”

“right,” he nods, “i believe you were giving me a verbal lashing on my music. you were on reason two, if that helps.”

“it’s a long list.”

“i got the time.”

“stop mansplaining to me,” she hiccups, the world around her spins and comes in and out of color, “like i was saying-“

“you know,” he says, half a step towards her, “i actually have something in the oven to check on. come inside for a second-“

“i’m not done.”

“i know you aren’t, princess.” he holds in the eye roll, takes a step towards her and holds her by the elbow. “come on.”

carefully, his hand rests on her elbow, the other on her lower back as he carefully watches her take the small step inside, closes the door behind her.

“i don’t know where i am.”

her voice borders on being sad, eyes glassy as she looks around. it’s a nice house, she’ll allow herself to say; a light purple wall, decorated with paintings and framed books line the shelves-small planted flowers crawl and creep towards the sun, surprisingly well taken care of-

she takes a step to investing the titles on the wall and hasan drops her:

“no you don’t,” he says gently, “cmon, we’re getting water.”

“i can do it myself.”

“i’m sure you can, princess. but you don’t know where you are-“

“it’s not like i could get lost.” she hiccups but allows him to pull her into the kitchen, gently push her into the chair.

“wouldn’t put it past you.” he hums gently as he places a hand next to her as if she’s a dog and making sure she isn’t going to move-before retreating to a well decorated refrigerator, adorned with magnets and postcards, coming back with a bottle of water that he twists off with the bottom of his shirt before sliding it to her.

“not thirsty.”

she goes to push it away but guesses where it is incorrectly and almost knocks it off before hasan catches it barely in time.

he holds in the sigh for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“one sip.”

“i’m not a child, hasan.” she goes to bat it out of the way but misses again, knocks some onto her lap.

“nooo,” she moans, eyes watering again, “my shirts ruined.”

she pulls at the stained sweater as if she’s seeing the red wine stains for the first time.

“i’ll make you a deal, princess.” he sits in the chair next to her and leans in close enough to her for her to smell his cologne: “you drink half this water and i’ll get you a new shirt.”

she hiccups, weighs the options.

“Tempting, i know.” he sing songs, holds the water out to her, and too tired to argue she rolls her eyes and accepts it.

“fine,” she huffs, “only so you’ll shut up.”

he nods, zips his lips, throws the key over his shoulder: “you stay here,” he continues, “don’t move.”

“i bet you were really bad at the quiet game growing up.”

finally, a laugh breaks through: light, carries through the house and she’s glad, even in a drunken state, that she hasn’t been too mean to him.

as soon as the sight of his yellow sweater disappears from view she makes her way to the front room, where the untouched vinyls and book jackets lay. her fingers run over the spines, worn with use and time, well loved and she cracks one open and sees the folded pages, the slanted writing in the margins. when the world becomes shaky and slanted again she holds onto them fireplace, the table, the side of the couch until she allows herself to collapse onto the couch, on her back as she rests the book on her belly-

“magic and love have two things in common, namely how easy both are to fuck up-“

her lips move as her eyes try to focus on the pages, on the small type and the way the words appear off the page dance and wave around in the air in front of her

“-which is exactly why she swore both off-“

the sound of the book hitting the floor doesn’t stir her. eyes heavy and fallen already, she falls into the drunken stupor that threatened to happen for hours.

rooms away, hasan knew the second he heard the fall what happened

“fucker.”

slowly, he folds the shirt in his hands, makes his way to the kitchen and grabs the untouched water, the bottle of aspirin out of the counter. finds the notepad shoved in his junk drawer and uses his nicest writing to try and ease her mind when she wakes up:

you fell asleep on the couch and i didn’t want to wake you. you’re at the neighbor with the loud musics house (hasan) bathroom is upstairs on the left. feel free to take this shirt for your stained one. Take three aspirins. my room is upstairs on the right if you need anything. you’re free to go when you wake up, but i do make an amazing omelette. get me if you need anything. -h

he shoves it with the shirt before he can second guess it. makes his way to the front room and sets the water, note and shirt on the table. picks the book up and sets it next to it. grabs the blanket over the back of the couch and throws it over her gently, holds his breath to see if she stirs and when he doesn’t, makes his way upstairs, hoping his morning starts with making an omelette.

[urlocalhovel]

✨To my American neighbours below me as I sit in a country well on the same path-

America has seen it all, hasn't it? It's been through struggle, so much fucking struggle and what is birthed from that struggle? A prospering, better nation- as someone who's special interest has been North American history since the age of 5, please take my word for it.

You will prevail through this shitstorm. It might be scary, it might take a revolution and it might be a hard road, but just like all the other storms America's land has had upon it's soil- the good of the people, the kindness and the right thing will prevail.

Here in Canada, we were so angry for so long at your population as we blamed you for allowing such a man to end up in a place we so highly respected. But we educated ourselves, realized how your elections work- realized just like with us at home, it's a dawn of a new, turmoiled age where the very idea of democracy is threatened.

A large amount of us wish you safe haven in our land, just like it had been during the mid 1800's- we've stuck by you in all your wars across seas (despite some being a tad questionable) and we will stick by you in this one at home, whether it be a visible one or a quiet, looming internal one. We welcome you here, and will never stop advocating and speaking up for what your country deserves- ❌America has fought too hard for too long just for all that hard work to be thrown out the door.

✨To the ones who are scared, I need you to listen to this very closely and repeat it constantly when you're afraid of where your government's future lies✨

America has been through political storms, the chaining of basic rights and literal people before + the threat of democracy shattering- and what happened at the end of that all? The good of the people prevailed.

The people of colour who called this country home while building and feeding it's growing nation found themselves allowed to be considered a citizen with rights after so many years of turmoil and abuse, the children who worked like dogs in factories found themselves finally being protected by labour laws, the gender who was constantly looked at as inferior became a part of the workforce and gained the ability to vote, the people who loved who they loved stopped being imprisoned and gained a right to be themselves-

and then apart from all the storms at home, there was the storms overseas, which ended up waking America up as to what "war" truly means: The American People Fought Back; Made Their Voices Heard, Made Their Fellow Countrymen's Sins Open Information For All To View

The People That The American Government Disregarded Prevailed.

And you, in this present moment and all moments hereafter, will prevail too.

I know it must be scary to think of the future, about the shattering of democracy before your very eyes, but you've been through it before- so have we up in the North. And each time it did, our countries both prevailed and laws and acts to make sure it never happened again were put into place- you're country is strong, and those laws and acts will find their way through the channels once again to make America the country it had been flowering to become.

Godspeed, Neighbour💞🍁🇺🇸

[magiarec]

🆘🏠 WE NEED SAFE HOUSING.

We moved across Canada last year to escape severe medical abuse, but our living situation rapidly degraded. Our next door neighbour is a violent racist homophobe who has dedicated the last year of my life to harrassing us. More details will be under the cut. After months of searching we finally found a new apartment an hour away, and can have it any time in the next two weeks as long as we have the money. We do not have that much money. We can cover moving costs, the remainder of rent on our current place, and all our normal medical/etc bills. We've asked family for help and gotten a resounding "bootstraps" from them. Mutual aid is my only hope.

Our triad is LGBT (what, all at once? yes!), severely mentally ill, two of us are disabled, and one of us is latina. I'm currently still trapped waiting on a reply from immigration, legally can't work yet, and I don't feel safe doing sex work here when an arrest could mean deportation.

🌈 ♿ £0/2000

total cost: deposit (600), rent (1200), eating this month (200)

Here’s what we’ve been trying to get away from for a year. TW for racism, homophobia, slurs, child abuse, assault, graphic violent/sexual threats, sexual harrassment, fatphobia, the police having to get involved, and anything else that I can add if you need. I’m going to list these in the order they happened.

• Tried to break into our house during a four hour long extended breakdown. Hammered on the door til it dented. Threatened all of our lives multiple times. This went on until 2am. First police report.

• Spent a week hammering on our door or window and screaming “WAKE UP” at any time between 4-6am if she heard us using the kitchen the night before.

• Followed me up and down the road when I ran errands calling me a disgusting pig, the d slur, and a pedophile. Followed all of us down the road more than once screaming at us for being worthless [d slur]s while she was a mother.

• Told her children I was a pedophile, and that I might kidnap them one day. Loudly. In front of their friends. Described in graphic detail what she assumed I would do to them if I did.

• Waited on our doorstep for me and pulled out a fistful of my hair when I tried to push past her to get inside. I have not left the house alone since. Second police report.

• Multiple months of her waiting until after midnight to begin blasting religious sermons or the same fucking eminem song six times through our conjoining walls.

• Began weighing our fire escape grates down while screaming at us that she’d burn us alive to ready us for hell.

• Waited until I was home alone and then came up to the door and began calmly telling me that she’d, quote, “cut my clit off” before offering to bring her guy friends over to rape me straight.

• Taped naked photos of herself to our bedroom window.

• Brought a fucking ant infestation into the basement apartments we split and tried to punch me in the face when I told the inspector we’d been putting down traps and all of the bugs came from her side of the building.

• Chased my husband down the side of our house, spat on his face, and tried (almost succeeded before we both tackled it shut) to kick the door open. Third police report that they actually bothered to come out for, and the first one where the officer who arrived took the genuine threats and physical assault seriously.

It’s going on trial tomorrow. Our landlord has had months to evict her for the assults, or not paying rent, or the harrassment, or the way she keeps threatening to shoot his family and calling them the N word. He has told her instead that we’re “probably” moving out soon for the past year and she insists she’s staying until that point - a thing we found out this week when confronting him about her still being here. We also found out that his plan to rent us her bigger unit is contingent on us furnishing it and leaving it for two months when his family comes to stay for a wedding in August.

We also also found out that when the baliffs said they can’t evict her until he does [basic legal step that she could contest] [... that he could have done last year] he decided it wasn’t worth it. So he’s going to illegally evict her. By waiting u til she leaves next week, unlocking her unit, loading her belongings into a van, changing the locks, and installing a gate. His plan is to have her arrested for tresspassing when she tries to come back to her house.

This is insane. It is not legal, it’s deeply unethical even if I hate her ass, and there is no way in hell that she will not just blame us for it when it happens. My husband leaves for work at 4am. She knows this. I am dead fucking certain she will attack him or us before the week is out if we remain here. I am terrified and traumatized and need your help. Please, please help.

[beefrobeefcal]

Beeftrue or beeffalse

You have polar bears in your area.

More earthlore that I’m calling beeflore. I’m gonna watch nature documentaries and submit fun facts and bullshit and you will have to sort through what is truesies and falsies

beefFalse, Buglet!

Yes yes yes... Canadians and their igloos and their main export is snow... har har har...

but no! Polar bears are not the menace you may think they are where I am. Fun fact about polar bears: they scream when they poop. The bigger Canadian nuisance, however, is the MOOSE.

One time, Mr Beefcal and I were rallying home after an almost 24-hr road trip in the middle of winter - again, northern Canadian Prairies. Right as we were making the second to last turn to our house, this weird gangly, brown Gollum-looking bitch flails across the road and flops into the ditch then gallops away into a cow field.

We rode the rest of the way home in silence, got out of the truck in silence, unloaded and went into the house in silence, went to bed in silence. As we laid in the dark, we both had the same thought - wtf was that? It wasn't until we both confirmed that we had both seen the thing run across the road that we decided we had collectively hallucinated or we'd witnessed our first government genetic mutation - a weredonkey - running free in northern Saskatchewan.

It wasn't until the morning when we told our neighbour what we saw that he told us it was a baby moose. He found it snuggled in with his cows when he went to feed them breakfast.

Moose are wild, Buglet. Thanks for adding to beefLore!

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

[master-john-uk]

I did not share this story when it was first reported last week, as I was too shocked, horrified and angered!

A car deliberately ran over 14 sheep in a field. In order to do this, two sets of farm gates were broken through. This proves the culprits' determination to cause injury, death and distress to the innocent farm animals!

Farmers can legally shoot dogs that do this... perhaps this permission should be extended!

If Surrey Police fail to get these bastards severely punished, farmers may (justifiably (n my opinion) take matters into their own hands!

Land on the furthest side of my Dorset farm was broken into in 2019.

I had been alerted my London cyber team that my land was being advertised on social media as a venue for an illegal rave. (They blocked and deleted these posts.) I set up several wireless surveillance cameras, and positioned my secret weapon, The Cow Poo Cannon... A large tanker with a high pressure hose, filled with slurry.

On the advertised date it was very stormy, and the security cameras were knocked out of place by the wind. (They did capture a very strange image of a cat stalking foxes though!)

Nothing happened that night, and after a couple of days we moved the cow poo cannon back to the main farm compound.

The following weekend I was alerted by a phone call from a neighbour who told me that the lane at the far end of the farm was blocked by cars. RED ALERT! I immediately contacted Dorset Police... estimated response time "about two hours."

My two Czech farmboys started to take the cow poo cannon over the fields, Farmer Frank took the big tractor out onto the road to try and block their escape, and I drove cross-country in the Land Rover.

I was first on the scene. Approximately 30 to 40 youths had broken through the gates to Bottom Pasture. They were having a wonderful time. I positioned the Land Rover where the headlamps gave me maximum visibility, got out of the vehicle, and walked towards them, calmly at first.

After trying to talk to them in a cool, calm manner... I lost it! It was at this point that two Dorset Police cars turned up (much sooner than expected). I was bundled into the back of one of the police cars. This made me even more angry.

Most of the little gits had escaped before Farmer Frank blocked the road with the tractor. Although one got stuck when he tried to escape by driving his Ford Fiesta across a field.

The cow poo cannon did not arrive on scene soon enough to be of any operational use... probably because the two Czech lads had been drinking vodka all evening!

Only eight people were arrested that night (including me), and only five were charged, all with drug related offences... nobody was charged with causing criminal damage by breaking into my farm.

In addition to reinforced gates, most of our fields are surrounded by ditches, which very few vehicles can drive across.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Chapter 5 - the opera

Part A

Part B

Part C

Warnings: none.

----------------------------------------------------------

     She glanced up from her embroidery when she heard the sound of a carriage pulling into their driveway. She set her cloth aside, tucking the needle carefully into it so it wouldn’t get loose, then she rushed to join the rest of her family at the door. 

     “Pavitr!” Lord Singh exclaimed, greeting his nephew with a hug when he stepped out of the carriage. “How was your journey?” 

     The young man flashed his uncle a tired smile. 

     “Exhausting,” he admitted truthfully, “but I am so grateful that you have given me a place to stay, Mamaji.” The tension between the foreigners and the natives in British-occupied India had been escalating in recent months, so his mother had asked her brother if he would be willing to let her son stay with him for a while. Lord Singh waved away his nephew’s thanks as he led him into their house. 

     “You are always welcome here, Pavitr,” he reassured him, patting him gently on the back. “Come, have some cha (tea) and take some rest. The servants have already prepared your room and I am sure your cousins will be happy to show you to it.” 

     “Sat sri akal, Veerji (Greetings, older brother)!” Anjali exclaimed, wrapping Pavitr in a hug as he stepped through the entryway. “It is wonderful to see you again!” 

     They had not been back to India since they had moved to London eight years ago, but their aunt, uncle and cousin had visited them once before, leaving them with fond memories of their extended family. Pavitr returned Anjali’s hug with a delighted grin. 

     “You too, Anjali,” he agreed before turning to Rohan next. His eyes widened with surprise when he saw how tall his young cousin had grown. “Hai Raba (Oh my God)! You could probably see all the way to Punjab, Rohan!” 

     Rohan chuckled and bent over to give Pavitr a brief hug in greeting. “It is good to see you too, Veerji. How are Bhuaji and Fufarji (aunty and uncle)?”

     “They are doing well,” Pavitr replied, his bright expression faltering as he thought about his parents back home. “How have you guys been?”

     “All right,” Rohan shrugged, taking a step back so X could take her turn to greet their cousin. Then suddenly, he remembered the most exciting piece of news to happen as of late. “Oh! Penji just had her debut the other night. The whole town was practically knocking down our door yesterday morning!” 

     Pavitr’s eyes lit up with excitement and he turned his attention to X when she pulled away. 

     “Really?” he asked, eager to find out more. “Anyone catch your eye, Penji?” 

     X rolled her eyes as her lips twisted up at the ends in amusement. 

     “It has barely been a week, Pav,” she pointed out calmly. “I have time.” 

     Except that she didn’t - well, Miguel didn’t have time. X felt her stomach tighten with nerves at the reminder of the façade she’d agreed to put on for his sake. But she didn’t need to burden her cousin with that right now. “But enough about me! We can catch up later. Let us show you to your room!” 

     Gabe jogged down the steps to the carriage where his brother was already tending to the horses. He looked up and his gaze landed on their neighbour’s house across the road. They’d been to the opera a few times together after X had begged Miguel to bring her along: she didn’t understand Italian, so she’d always sit right by him, right where he could lean over and murmur the translations into her ear. “Miguel, have you-”

     But that had been before she’d come of age; before she’d become a viable prospect whom his brother couldn’t seem to take his eyes off anytime she stepped into a room. So perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to bring her along to a darkened theatre where the two of them would be trapped next to one another in intimately close proximity for three hours. Miguel looked up at his brother, waiting for him to finish his sentence and Gabe pursed his lips as he tried to come up with a different question instead. “Uh … Tied your shoe? I … don’t want us to be late …” 

     He trailed his sentence off into an awkward chuckle and Miguel’s expression turned even more suspicious. 

     “My shoes are fine …” he replied carefully. “And I think we will make it perfectly on time, brother.” He turned around to get into the carriage and Gabe rushed down the rest of the stairs, desperately trying to stop his brother from seeing X as she walked out of her house. But he was too late. 

     A comfortable warmth filled his chest when he saw his neighbour. She was clothed in a pale lavender dress that swirled around her ankles as she walked out of her house. He waved at her to try to get her attention, but she was too absorbed by her conversation with her family, her sweet features lit up with delight as she chatted to them excitedly. Miguel turned back to Gabe and gestured across the road. “I will ask X if she would like to join us.” 

     Gabe flashed his brother an awkward smile, just managing to conceal his defeated sigh: it was going to be a long night. 

     Pav tugged on the collar of his shirt, allowing himself a little more space to breathe. 

     “These outfits seem … unnecessarily fancy,” he pointed out, keeping his tone light so no one would take offence at his complaint: they had offered him a safe place to stay, after all, he should be grateful for their generosity. Rohan shrugged as he walked towards their carriage. 

     “At least they keep the cold out.” 

     X smiled at the way her brother’s easy manner put their cousin at ease: she’d noticed how careful Pav was with his words, always thinking twice before speaking his mind around them. But she didn’t want him to spend his time with them walking on eggshells and constantly policing himself to make sure he didn’t unintentionally offend anyone: that was the exact reason for which he’d left India, after all. 

     “Lady X!” She startled as the familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Might you be on your way to the opera?” 

     X turned to find the owner of the voice and her heart gave a little flutter when she saw Miguel approaching her. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from reciprocating the wide grin on his face, but she did allow herself a polite smile of greeting. “Lord Miguel. We are indeed paying a visit to the opera. And yourself?”

     “We are heading there as well,” Miguel revealed, feeling his heart speed up at the thought of accompanying her to the opera. “For the eight o’clock show, I take it?” 

     X opened her mouth to respond, but was immediately interrupted by her sister. 

     “Lord Miguel!” Anjali exclaimed, rushing over to join their conversation. “How lovely to see you! Are you off to the opera?” 

     She leaned to the side, sneaking a glimpse of Miguel’s carriage, then she turned back to him with an expectant look on her face. 

     “Yes,” Miguel confirmed, amused by Anjali’s inexplicable enthusiasm. “I was just asking X if-”

     “Wow!” Pav gasped, scurrying up to the group to take in Miguel’s broad and towering form. “You’re as big as an ox, Sir! I bet you could plough fields all on your own!” 

     Miguel furrowed his brows at the unfamiliar young man, unsure how to respond to such a comment. “Uh …” 

     “Oh! Miguel, this is our cousin, Pavitr,” X introduced him. “He has come to visit us from Punjab. He will be staying with us for a while.” 

     She shot him a meaningful look, silently conveying to him that the matter was a sensitive topic, and Miguel nodded in understanding. “Nice to meet you, Pavitr.” 

     “And you as well, Sir,” Pavitr replied, shaking Miguel’s outstretched hand enthusiastically. X flashed Miguel an embarrassed look, but he returned it with a warm smile that immediately eased the tension from her body. 

     “So, will you be joining us at the opera today, Pavitr?” Miguel asked. Pav’s features lit up at the question. 

     “Oh, yes! I have never been to an opera before! Although I have been told that everything is in Italian.” His brow furrowed with anxiety and Miguel quickly waved his concerns away. 

     “That is all right. If you don’t mind riding in the carriage with me and my brother, I could explain some of tonight’s story to you on the way over?” he offered. Pavitr turned to X in question, a hesitant expression on his features. 

     “You are perfectly safe, Pavitr,” Miguel added quickly, instantly understanding the reason behind his unease. “X and I have known each other since we were children. I am sure she trusts me with your safety.”

     “Oh! Yes! Of course!” X agreed. She gestured to Miguel’s large and imposing frame, trying to stop her eyes from lingering on the outlines of his muscles pressing against his shirt. “ I mean, you said so yourself: he could probably take down an ox.” 

     Goodness! Whatever could have possessed her to say something so silly?! She forced out an awkward laugh as she glanced between the two men, then she straightened her features again when neither of them joined in. “But anyway! Let us make haste before we arrive late.” 

     She nodded at each of them in turn, then rushed into her own carriage. Miguel’s lips curled at the ends as he watched her skitter away and his chest warmed at how cute she was whenever she got embarrassed. She’d started being embarrassed around him a lot lately, if he really thought about it. Though he couldn’t figure out a possible reason for her to-

     “Er, shall we go, Sir?” Pav asked, clearing his throat when the silence had stretched on for a little too long. 

     “Oh! Right, yes.” Miguel forced all thoughts of his neighbour out of his mind and turned around to lead Pav over to his carriage. “But please, ‘Miguel’ is fine.” 

     “All right, Miguel,” Pav replied, bouncing after him obliviously.

Continue

[valentine-cafe]

Hii

I'm in a very struggling situation so is it okay if you give me fun facts about Zhao Yizé 9948e? Doesn't matter what it is. Just no angst and nsfw fun facts.

He is my comfort character and I need to read something about him to ease my stress. You can take your time on it tho!

— 🎨

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ oh darling we really are sorry and we hope things ease up for you :(( sending you lots of love! we composed this real quick for you

𖹭. he plays the guqin! he's very good at it too

𖹭. can recreate animal sounds very very accurately

𖹭. he treats mister squiggles like a genuine pet snake when in fact squiggles is his familiar —

𖹭. he can speak fluent japanese!

𖹭. his english given name is mathew ( he hates it XHVKBK )

𖹭. on the topic of languages, he speaks more english than he does chinese as he's not around the zhào estate too often and rather lives in the society of shades

𖹭. he is associated with dull shades of blue

𖹭. one of our voice references for him is from this audio

𖹭. as a child, he loved hiding around the ponds of the estate garden, swimming among the lotus flowers and sometimes laying on the big lotus leaves. he also had a small water fan he’d use to splash his older brothers with. they never knew it was him that did it.

𖹭. when yizé first got mr. squiggles, the first thing the both of them did was have a race in the training grounds. he won, and made squiggles get him ice cream as a reward.

𖹭. in yizé’s late teens, he had developed an odd habit of sleeping in the tree branches because he’d sit in the garden at ungodly hours to do homework for school. it became a comfort to him, and he liked when the birds nestled up to him.

𖹭. yizé helps a lot of the community around the estate and makes sure everyone goes around and are safe. safely getting elderly and the young across the road, making sure cats and dogs don’t run out and get lost and is also one of the people who makes a bunch of food for his neighbours and hands it out to them when he can.

𖹭. at work, yizé really likes the missions where he gets to go to the last sector of the society. because it’s a place surrounded by nature and it just comforts him. he loves the areas of the inner society too! the last one just reminds him of home. and also there’s deer!

𖹭. though he doesn’t read books, he has a special thing for comics. he doesn’t read — but he loves looking at all the art. he’s never been too good at art, but he admires it so heavily. he’s always trying to draw something! even if it comes out a little messy, he still feels proud of what he makes

𖹭. yizé is the only one in his family that manages to get brain freezes whenever he drinks cold drinks or eats something cold too fast, nobody knows why.

𖹭. he really likes dancing on roller-skates and is quite good at it too! he often goes to some of the clubs around the society to dance around with them on. one of the reasons for this is because it reminds him of his best friend lorenzo.

𖹭. he has a special soft spot for reptilians, and adores salamanders specifically. he can’t explain why, he’s just always loved how silly they look.

𖹭. has a bit of a tendency to get lost whenever he’s out, but he always find his way back home ! ( he calls his fire dad or his ceo dad or his mama )

𖹭. his younger sibling and him get along really well, and often enjoy running around the parks close to their home, catching bugs and critters for them. yǔ xī has always been able to relate to his love for all wildlife, and it’s refreshing. they like to sit and study them while eating ramen

𖹭. he likes to visit his older brother xīyang whenever he has time. he knows he is sick often and because of this, he really likes bringing him soup and food. and although they’ve had a rocky past together they also share lots of laughs when they get the time. last time they laughed over squiggles accidentally dipping his tail in yizé’s soul when he went to hug xīyang

𖹭. really likes to bully his boss/dad rasui, calling him an old man and sometimes not listening to his orders at work because he likes to prove there are different ways to do things. and he can see even when rasui scolds him, there is pride for his adaptability. ꒱