#pig on a pool floatie

[guineapiggies]

Via chlos.piggies

[dbssh]

at this point the lack of any beach hog skin is like. criminal. i can see him in my mind so vividly and yet

[ladylaviniya]

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 5 || MasterList || Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: You get the ultimate privilege of meeting Nicholas Tortano who grants you the ability to surprise August Walker

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Sexual tension, P in V intercourse, fingering, petnames, dubious consent, hate sex, rough sex, gun violence, threats with a gun, forceful handling, belittling, manipulation The reader vomits and is kissed briefly at some point. Mentions of dacryphilia, sadism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: .I dont honestly know but it's definitely more than 6k

Author Notes: the chapter and editing process was very rough I'm very sorry full stop my life has been in a business because I'm trying to find a new place to live and I've started going to the gym and missing out on a lot of sleep. I'm about to pass out which is why I'm posting this now. Again sorry for any mistakes granrma and otherwise

Inspiring Song: "girl with one eye " Florence and the machine. (Yes I know it's a sapphic song- I sing it like every day but let me have this pass to add it in)

08:09am Monday 19th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane.

'What the hell is she thinking?'

Henry shook his head as he reached the complex exit and walked out onto the street to the waiting car.

He wanted to smirk but the frowning scowl would not drop from his face.

'If I was anyone else, God what I'd do to her-' his hand clenched the passenger side door handle hard and slammed loudly behind him. His eyes shut and his head tossed while the car swayed and rocked.

Jude, his driver and loyal friend smirked, “You must like this one...or is there a pile of meat up in that apartment that I need to fetch? I can call Riggan the pig farmer in the Lockyer Valley, anything left over he can throw in Wivenhoe dam.”

August sighed and chuckled, "She's alive and well. No sweet treat for Coles piggies...but...I need you and Wesley to look into the Pig she has been accompanying."

Jude smiled and leaned over, clicking the button of the glove box compartment. Inside was a yellow envelope. August's eyes fluttered before his face broke out into a grin.

"You are a fine friend Jude," he said as he plucked the envelope and spilled the printed notes out onto his lap, "Do you ever sleep? Jesus mate."

The raven hair man giggled and started the car to a silent hum.

As the driver put a hand behind Augusts car seat and reversed the car out onto the main roads he smugly said, "I take pride in investigating, especially bastards like him."

August's fingers flicked through the pages of graphic intel. With racing eyes he soaked up the words and photos. Lloyd Hansen...an absolute moron. His nose flared at what he was reading. He grit his teeth. Especially when he recognised a name in bold he hadn't thought about in at least half a decade.

"Well, well, well, he's got kittens for sale," August scoffed.

Jude hummed, "And meddles in the dogs pack, it would seem little Nicky is out of the jailhouse."

Both men smirked. But August was by no means pleased.

He was grumbling to himself. You were now sticking your toes into the deep end of the pool without floaties and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to catch you in time for the dunk.

Entering his club, sneaking in with the detective, he didn’t think you were dumb enough to think you’d distract him... He read through your charade the moment his eyes laid down on you from above walking in with that man.

His eyes and ears were turning red.

It was tricky but thankfully he had the means to warning that cop not to touch what belongs to him...however how close could he really get to that bastard without potential outlash. He knew he needed to order another grandeur meeting. While everyone was in town, it might be his only opportunity.

When August forced you to watch the murder of the embezzler, he had every hoping intention that it would persuade you to never talk to the cop again. A normal undercover pig would’ve stopped the show then and there, called back up.

But there was no back up...no...there was only sweet little innocent you and your pathetic phone camera. If Lloyd was after information he would’ve wired you up...Lloyd wasn’t there for him...he was there for some selfish reason...

When you ran off and pulled the alarm a dozen things went through his head. You were going to get yourself killed if you kept running. So he chased you. If the other men of his circle saw August Walker hunting, they would have been inclined to hunt you down too. And if they caught you...they would have done more than rip your head off.

He couldn’t tell you. He wasn’t sure how. You were already distrusting and scared of him there was no way he would be able to explain all the details and with your pure heart, you wouldn’t understand his world and why his side of the fence did such heinous things.

But...he would keep you safe. He wanted to gain your trust while not mistaking his authority...he knew what he had done was traumatizing.

He was no stranger to rape. Especially the european parties...those special events where he would join his friends like Kenny Strong and Arthur Kingsley ran the highlife of elite gentlemen and some lucky women born into those elite families. He wasn’t entirely fond of the practice. He didn’t like to beat women, but he did love to tie them up and humiliate them to tears.

Something about crying made his cock hard- no, something about you crying did...

He made you cry and he tried to bend you to his whims...he had already begun the conditioning where you would call him Daddy to gain his affection and praise. It pleased him significantly. He would shield you from those terrible memories even if it meant torturing you into talking about them. Externalising, confessing, it was all a form of therapy and he knew he had finally cracked the surface of your mind. He wouldn’t break you but he would chop at you and cut the mould. He would heal you. He would rebuild you and give you all the happiness you could ever want.

Sitting back and shoving those papers into the glove box he licked his bottom lip in thought.

When he woke up that morning, he watched you sneak out of the room. He smiled and amused himself. He watched the cameras from his phone. You were in his room...now that was very silly...he watched you choose his shirt and his shorts. He bit his lip to hold back a laugh. You looked so confident but so ...innocent...particular. He watched you grab a knife from the kitchen, he half heartedly believed you were coming back to stab him.

When your hands reached for the glass doors he launched up. He hadn’t warned you about Kal and he knew that dog could rip a man up, probably kill you easily if his fangs cause your wrist or neck.

He wanted to spank you and fuck you hard until you screamed mercy for trying to run away.

Rather he chose a simpler and easier punishment, one you essentially consented to the night before. Watching you suck cock was an interesting spectacle. There was a certainty you’d never done it before or not that many times before.

As you gagged on his cock with those big beautiful eyes of yours, he imagined all the things he’d buy for you...all the things he’d do for you... You might’ve been on your knees but something screamed at him to serve you as a slave.

Jude broke the silence eventually. He smirked, “So, am I right? You like this one?”

August smirked back, “’Like’ isn’t a word I’d be using.” He was fucking obsessed.

09:06am Monday 19th August 2023, Woolloongabba, Brisbane

You didn’t make a call. You couldn't. August broke your phone as you recalled.

You showered and scrubbed your face until you could feel the slight peel of your skin. It stung, but it was better than the sting you felt from the memory of his cum over you...in your mouth. You brushed your teeth for probably fifteen minutes just to erase the muscle memory of his cock brushing the back of your throat.

You changed out of August’s clothes and threw them into the bin. You couldn’t take off the collar and it made you feel suffocated. The kitchen scissors managed to scratch up the leather but the metal ring that encased inside was too strong.

You shook your head and felt nausea rise in your belly again. Without any food, all that came out was bile and acidic spit. You fell to your bedroom floor and started hitting the carpet, awful noises of grief and need bellies from you. You felt strangled. You huffed and spat random threats and insults, pretending he was there to hear them...he...August or your father? It didn’t matter.

You clenched your fist and smacked your head trying to regain your thoughts.

You kicked your dresser and rose from the floor. You found your bus pass and left the apartment, walking out in some jeans and a loose tshirt with a pair of running shoes.

The bus trip wasn’t a far trip to the police station.

You didn’t have the intention to report the kidnapping. No, no...now you were pissed off. You were scorned more than once by men around you. There was only one person you could trust in this world.

“Hi,” said the administration clerk, “How can we try an help today?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes, 'oh bitch if only you knew.'

“I’m after Detective Lloyd Hansen, is he here?”

You needed to confirm if the man was still alive. When you pulled the alarm, things were run or die in that moment. You hoped the man had the wit to run instead of confront the mafia or whatever this criminal group was.

The office was feeling slower today. It was filled with idle chatter and coffee machines grinding beans and a printer scanning documents.

“Do you have an appointment today?” she hummed, tapping at her keyboard.

You blinked and your teeth sneered.

You almost strangled that worker with the telephone cord. No. You didn’t have an appointment.

You just wanted to see he was alive. To tell him you were alive...and to collect your fifteen thousand promised reward for your “services”.

Your hands uncontrollably slapped on the desk cause the admin clerk to roll a little away in their office chair.

“I want to see the detective, now.”

“It’s alright Sandra...I can see her...” Lloyd said behind you. You flipped around. He was coming out of a small cubicle.

He looked...tired...shocked...relieved. it was all over how he looked with his loose tie, bags under his eyes and the clench of his hands on some paperwork.

He slowly stood to you and guided you away from the service desk. He whispered, “The white corolla...I’m about to finish shift.”

09:14am Monday 19th August 2024, Sunnybank, Brisbane.

You remembered his car well. The day he drove you home, you were so scared and confused. That day you’d reported that August may have sexually assaulted you...that day he definitely did...

This time you weren’t waiting in the cold for Lloyd, the sun was hot and beating down.

He came jogging down the front stairs of the station and hastily unlocked the car.

You wordlessly slipped in and buckled up.

When he got in he slammed his door a little too hard. He pressed his face to the top of his wheel and swore softly.

“I thought,” he swallowed nervously and sat up to look you up and down, “I thought he really had killed you. I tried calling thirty fuckin times these last two days. What happened? Were you hiding?”

Two days....god...you had been gone, missing, for that long?! Missing Friday...return Sunday.

You shook your head, “I was the one who pulled the alarm Lloyd...he knew what we were doing...he was going to kill you. When I made a run for it like everyone else in the club, he managed to track me down...he...” you trailed off unsure if you wanted to repeat the actions, the words, the confession.

Licking your lips you said, “August Walker is a dead man walking...and...” your stomach started to growl, “I’m starved, and I’m sorry to be bitchy but you...you at least owe me a meal Lloyd.”

Two days...you had only a few pieces of chicken in two days. No wonder you felt like total crap.

Lloyd didn’t argue. He took you straight away to the closest fast food drive thru. You ordered so much and Lloyd didn’t dispute a single item. He settled for a simple burger, fries and larger soft drink.

Lloyd drove you both to the kangaroo point lookout, it wasn't too far from where you already live. You stared out at the city buildings and Brisbane River with a strained sigh.

You chewed silently on a nugget for a moment before you explained what happened. How you were caught, how you almost got away...

“Jesus,” Lloyd rubbed his eyes and sighed, “I...I think I...I’m sorry I took you for granted Y/N. When I left the building I search everywhere for you. I thought...well- I didn’t know what to think.”

You munched on a handful of fries, you didn’t care if you looked like a pig as you did it. Stuffing your cheeks full of a burger and then a massive gulp of an extra large drink. You swallowed and thrived off the heart burn aching in your chest, reminding you you’ve eaten too quickly.

You burped and then softly moaned, “I need to feel safe.”

“You need to move...Y/N please,” The begging in his tone was loud and clear. There was serious fear in Lloyd.

You wouldn’t submit to August Walker and you refused to run from him. You were now met with the choice...you were either going to destroy his reputation or literally destroy him....your blood pumped loudly. He made you talk about your father....your fucking father...and on top of that, he made you call him daddy.

What mind fucked you was how you were yet again able to walk away...not unscathed but definitely alive.

“No,” you dismissed unwrapping your second burger, “He will find me...I know he will...and even if he kept me alive both times, a third is pushing my lucky, I know you understand that.”

Lloyd shook his head at you and put his hand over your burger, stopping your next starved bite, he hissed “You think staying where you are is safer? You don’t know-“

“Lloyd!” You snapped, you slapped his hand back and shoved your pointer finger into your chest, you sucked down a shakey breath, “...I know...I do know. I need to protect myself when he strikes again...it’s worse now...I have too much collateral... He let me witness that murder in the club.”

The detective raised his brows at you, “You mean...” the blood drained from his face.

“Cameras were in the VIP rooms Lloyd,” you grit your teeth and glared at the view of the city buildings, “I saw a lot more than just a fucking man’s brains being blown out from his skull, hookers, coke... Auctions...he’s got it all in The Lion Lounge.”

The detective rest his fingers on his top lip. He was slowly nodding.

You sucked down a long drag of your straw and gasped, asking in the same breath, “Lloyd I want a gun. I won’t let him rape me again.”

You needed the protection from August or any man he sent to kill you.

Lloyd chewed his bottom lip and shook his head.

“Do you have a gun license?”

“Do I look like I have one?” you snipped. You knew it wasn’t fair on him for your attitude but you didn’t have the time to focus on his hurt feelings in regards to your mental health and physical safety.

“Have you ever even shot one?”

“Nope. But it only takes one shot to kill him close up.” You threw the wrapper out of his car window and rubbed your face.

If he didn’t come near you, he would be safe, and you could just work on collecting evidence for the courts.

The detective sucked his bottom lip and shook his head, “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh piss off!” You stomped your foot and twisted your body to face him, you grabbed his loose tie and tugged it as you seethed, “Lloyd, you practically thrust me into his arms and you have the gall to say now, me owning a gun is ‘too dangerous’?”

He gently grabbed your wrist and pulled his tie out of your fingers as he shook his head at you. His nose flared and he started to raise his voice at you, spit flying from his mouth as he hit the wheel with the palm of his hand. You expected a detective to hold a little more composure.

“Fine. Fine! But are you really willing to go to prison for life if you do manage to kill him? Think about this logically.”

His eyes were wide and his brows twisted with worry.

You fell quiet. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to stamp your foot again and scream that you’d spend two lifetimes behind bars if it meant his demise...except...was your demise worth the cost of his? Would you drown with him in the end of all of this if you killed him.

You noisily sucked at your straw.

“No...” you whispered, you didn’t want to cry in front of Lloyd but your tears were coming up, beading in the dips of your lids.

“No, that’s right,” Lloyd rubbed your shoulder with his thumb, “He isn’t worth it.”

Your lip pouted, “Why can’t you just...arrest him.”

He sighed and rubbed your back as you started to break down into pathetic frustrated sobs.

“Lawyers, laws and money,” he whispered and fluttered his eyes shut, “He has his ways. The only way we can take him down is if he is caught doing the hefty, big crimes. If I could’ve gotten the proof of the weapon dealers he would’ve been considered accomplice to the crime.”

“S-so if...if you..” you wiped you snotty nose on the back of your arm, “If he was caught on camera...he’d be sent to prison?” You started to laugh mechanically, “What if...what if I let him rape me. A nanny cam on my night stand or something?”

The office shook his head for the dozenth time, “By the law that wouldn’t be considered rape...only a messed up porno, especially if they see you set up the camera.”

Your fingers aggressively clenched another handful of fries, you didn’t eat them, you just threw them back into the bag.

“...I...what do I do Lloyd?” A fear of hopelessness tapped your brain.

He was quiet for a solid minute. He stared at you all over. You knew the bruise on your face was visible. He kept looking at your cheek instead of your eyes. And his gaze fell down to your neck. “It’s a collar Lloyd...he chained me to a bed for two days...”

His lips parted and with a impatient voice he asked, “Do you have a gym membership?”

“No? Why?”

He started his car and made you put your seat belt back on, “Okay, I don’t care, you’re getting one, right now."

Your eyes shrunk, “Why?”

Lloyd gruffly snarled, “Because I’m going to teach you how to fight.”

He would teach you at least some self defence. August might’ve been twice your size but if you could get the chance to get away...Lloyd would make sure you would take it..

05:30pm Monday 19th August 2024, East Brisbane Anytime Fitness Gym, Brisbane.

“Again.”

Your back hit the padded wall, your knees hit the floor as you cupped your middle and tried not to puke up the fast food from earlier.

“We have been at this for three hours!” You groaned, trying to use the foam wall to stand up again.

You were convinced Lloyd liked to beat you around, the red marks and bruises that were rising were the evidence.

“Until you can take me down,” Lloyd nudged you with his hand causing you to almost fall back down, “We aren’t leaving.”

You hissed angrily and stood up tall “Fuck sake.”

You held up your arms like he showed you. He started throwing his blows, you blocked him with your forearms and ducked away from his large swipes. He kicked your ankle and watched you crumble to the ground again.

“Watch your feet.” He scolded, “You are smaller and surprisingly speedy, use that to your advantage!”

You rolled your eyes and bit your lip. Getting to your feet you pushed up and launched your body at Lloyd who was checking out one of the yoga classes in the other room window.

He crashed to the floor. Your knees straddled his hips as you huffed with glee, “Ha! Home time!” your palms rested on his naked sweaty chest.

He chuckled and shook his head. He pushed you up by your hips. He shut his eyes, panting, “Again...then home time.”

You grumpily groaned, “Fine!” your ribs hurt bad and your knees felt swollen.

It was agreed by you both that if you needed to reach out you needed to use a burner phone or a payphone. Any calls or emails were going to be noticed.

When you felt the spray of the hot shower water at home, you cried. It felt good. You touched the collar still around your throat. Training to protect yourself reminded you the pain was worth it.

10:16am Wednesday 21st August 2024, Brisbane CBD

“Mr Luther, I’m so sorry for not calling in sick,” You wrung your hands in front of your boss, “Please forgive me for the unwarned absence.”

“Please!” He laughed heartedly, “I just assumed you were clicking some more photos!” He stood out from his chair and sat on his desk above you, “Did you hear about Walkers club almost burning down?”

Looking down at your lap, you reminded yourself that Mister John Luther was not a man included in the circle of trust. Nor were you convinced he understood the severity of the crimes the criminals he wanted to chase for gossiping stories committed. Your hand touched the ends of the scarf you wore, covering up the hideous black leather around your neck. You tried all morning to cut it off with a pair of scissors but you came to feel the metal circlet inside and gave up. There was a hole in one of the bottom cabinets where you had kicked in a hole...that was okay, you had an extra fifteen thousand pounds in your bank account.

You assumed Lloyd finally sent the money through.

“Did it?” you coyly asked.

“No clue how damaged the place was but the massive party was cancelled. The fire engines went zooming down this street Friday night.”

“What happens now then?” You glanced up at him and chewed the inside of your cheek, “With the smuggling case?”

“Put on hold for now,” he sighed and squeezed your shoulders, “I don’t have any sources about the next possible meet and greet. I was hoping you could keep the same production rolling. I have a new project involving a Nicholas Tortano. I want to get an interview with him.”

You didn’t recognise the name at all. Your fingers pinched at your long sleeve shirt. “An interview?”

Luther nodded, he winked and went back to his desk draw, slapping out a manilla folder.

He rubbed and clapped his hands, pushing and opening the new case to you.

“He has a history of his employed persons going missing. He has criminal history ties with Irish gangs and the italian mafia. I have a page of questions, I would like someone to ask him.”

You cleared your throat, “Me?”

Wagging his finger the elder man laughed, “No one has quite the balls as you deary...”

It sounded...Too dangerous.

“In that case,” you shuffled forward in your chair, “Can I be paid upfront for this job?”

You would not die at the hands of one gangster when you had your eyes set on another. Luther almost looked like he was going to tell you to get the fuck out of his office until he looked at your photos of August you’d taken. He was quickly reminded you had the best skills and to lose you would be suicide for his paper... You were the best thing to have happened to him. He accepted.

You sat in your work cubicle and aggressively jabbed at the key pad of your work phone. It’s not hard to find phone numbers. Nicholas Tortano had a nickname, “The Black Dog.” He was caught by paparazzi coming out of court a few times. His business empire related to charities. He was a philanthropist with a dirty history of crime connections. He had only been found guilty of third degree murder but many news articles in the past twenty years all labelled him as a omen of death, because anyone that had done him wrong was found dead not too long after...

You found the phone number and took a lucky gulp. There wasn’t an address for any business so if no one picked up, you were worried Idris might fire you for that mere disappointment alone.

The phone rung out once. You dialled again, the receiver picked up. You held your breath.

“Hello, Tortano and associates, who is calling?” the masculine tone soothed out.

“Hello, my name is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m a journalist from the local paper. Is there a chance I may be able to book an interview with Nicholas Tortano?”

There was a steady silence and a soft hum, “What does this pertain to?”

You rubbed your eyes and looked over the notes Luther had given you in the folder, “....People think he is ‘a mass murdering psycho with a thirst for crime’, I’m hoping to ask him some questions to seek the truth.”

“How ludicrous,” the man chuckled, “I am a gentleman. A businessman. Not a criminal.”

You strained over the phone as you spoke to the secretary, “I am sure but this is in regards to Mister Tortano.”

The phone went quite again, you thought maybe you’d lost the connection.

The sweet condescending waved through the sound, “I am he...are you free today for lunch?”

With widened eyes your voice caught in your throat. You felt like an idiot...you never imagined he would answer the call to his own company. CEOs never answer the call of a civilian first hand...

You cleared your throat and nervously clicked a pen, “I am, where would you like to conduct this meeting.”

You could hear him click something too. He sounded warm, and inviting on the phone, “Do you like Italian? Have you ever heard of Vapianos?”

A tiny smile touched your lips. When was the last time you were asked out to lunch? Your eyes rolled, for fuck sake, this was a job...not a date.

“I don’t mind it.”

11:54pm Wednesday 21st August 2024, Brisbane CBD, Vapianos.

Nick Tortano had invited you to a side of town with skyrise buildings. The Vapianos restaurant was on the bottom floor of some massive buildings.

You wrapped your scarf around your neck again. The leather was tight around your throat. It was like he was there with you...holding you...as you cried over a father that you loved and hated.

You shook your head and looked down at the notebook and piece of paper you were given by Luther.

You looked around at the tables and the waiters. The place was sparkling with a quality of...the wealthy and corporate. The palm leaves, the tinted glass windows that raced from floor to ceiling, the champagne glasses on a nearby table. It was all glorious decoration.

All the people there were beautiful...not a single appearance that resembled you...a pauper.

The awkward steps you took towards the receptionist resembled a weak lamb. You felt stupid for being there.

The server looked you up and down and it caused a sting to any confidence you had left. You touched your scarf.

“Hello, I’m looking for a Mister Tortano we have a meet-”

A hand glided across your back, you jumped a little and became confronted with a pair of dark brown orbs and handsome white teeth, “Hello, Miss Y/N.”

Nicholas...he was tall and wearing a simple sweater. Despite his causality he held an air of regality. Not to be overly romantic but you felt he would be a stunning prince if he was a royal member.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve had them set a table already.”

He held out an arm to you.

“Not at all,” You flushed and happily accepted it. You tucked it around and let him lead you carefully to a table. There was a set of plates and two wine glasses.

“Just give me a second or two to set up, is it alright if I tape your voice?” you asked reaching into your handbag.

He pulled out a chair for you and explained, “I would prefer no tapes, but I’m not adverse to photography.”

It wasn’t an unusual request. Lots of people didn’t like the sound of their voice. He must’ve been one of them.

It didn’t matter, photos were more your talents anyway.

“In that case, may I take the photos first and then perform the interview?”

He nodded and flashed a bigger beautiful smile.

“Where would you like me?”

You pulled out a office camera from your bag, you didn’t have time to go home and grab one of your ten others. You started to turn it on.

“If you could look away from the lens, relax your shoulders, lean back and look like you’re thinking. No smiling.”

“Do I look ugly with a smile?” he cheekily asked.

You couldn’t help but smile. He was charming and flirtatious and incredibly handsome.

“Terribly,” you teased, “No, my boss would just prefer a little more seriousness I believe. To make the page appear professional...plus the topic regarding the article with a smiling photo you’d look like a madman.”

He nodded promisingly and fell into the pose. When he heard the camera clicked a small smirk pulled at his lips before quickly trying to compose his face.

When the photos were finished you stuffed the camera back in your bag. He relaxed from his falsified stern appearance.

Now came the interview. You pulled out the sheet of questions Idris provided. Under no circumstances were you meant to ask anything but these....except....the questions....well...they were...

“So, you...ugh...hold on a moment....”

How many people have you killed?

What is currently the cheapest drug you can achieve from your circle?

Are you a homosexual?

What the fuck?! You weren’t even sure if you were legally allowed to ask these questions due to discrimination laws.

“Um...I...”

He smiled at you from across the table. You felt a pearl of sweat forming on your forehead.

“Stage fright?” Nick asked softly, tilting his head. He snapped his finger and a waiter came over and poured water into two cups. A basket of breadsticks were placed in the centre.

“No, well...yes...um. the questions I’m meant to ask you I stupidly didn’t read before coming here...” your cheeks felt warm. The embarrassment rose fast.

“So they’re not your questions?” his eyebrows lifted. His finger traced the lip of his glass.

“They’re my boss’s but I said I would ask them.”

Nicholas' lips parted back into a smile, “Enlighten me, I will be less offended knowing they’re not from you.”

You smoothed the paper out on the table and pulled out a notepad, clicking a pen after finding the least offensive one you licked your bottom lip and stuttered, “How...how would you describe yourself?”

He sighed and held the cup to his lips, “Vain, rich with a dominating grace.”

Those weren’t usual qualities someone described themselves as, usually people preferred to remain humble and soften their reality. It was an interesting new perception to attach to Nicholas Tortano the criminal who covered his wrong doings with funding medicine for sick children.

You noted it and looked at the page again to try and find another less offensive question. Frantically your finger scrolled down all the words. Your heart started to pick up. These were so ridiculous and disgusting. Right I go the jaws of the black dog- that’s what Luther had done to you.

You shyly laughed, “hmm, I...let me...-”

Nick slapped the cup back on the table. His smile had fallen, “Politely, Miss Y/N I don’t like my time to be wasted...how about you hand me that piece of parchment.”

He reached over with lightning speed. He pinch the paper and dragged it to him.

“Hey!-”

“Now now, here’s what we will do,” he peaked up at you and licked his bottom lip, “I’ll answer these questions and so will you.”

You lifted your chin and looked at him cautiously.

“But they’re not for me.”

“That doesn’t matter, I can see you’re nervous darling...so...let’s break tension.”

He trailed his thumb down the page and sighed, “Let’s see...ah yes I see how these would make you less inviting to involve yourself.”

After a moment he glanced and smirked at the questions, god you could throttle Luther right now for letting you go through this stupid interview.

“How many years did it take you to be where you are now as one of the most notorious crimelords?”

You tried to put on your best smile, “...yesterday...I stole this scarf...” you lied.

“Why Miss Y/N you must be a terrible influence!” He feigned a gasp of horror which made you lightly giggle, “I don’t label myself as a crime lord. As over the phone I stated simply, I’m a business man...my business so happens to involve crime. I’ve been in this business since I was thirteen years old. My first offence was Car theft. That was almost twenty years ago.”

Your throat shut. He was in his forties!? The damn bastard had the option of early 30s or maybe 20s if he shaved off his stubble entirely.

He looked between your face and your hands, “Are you going to write that down or do I have to do that too?”

You blinked and jumped with a start of noting down the new information, “Oh yes! Sorry!” Scribbling quickly you watched him, watching you...he was staring...like you were...something unusual.

“How many sentences have you been charged with?”

You shrugged unsure why you felt ashamed to say, “None.”

The pen in your hand twirled as the handsome gentleman scratched his nose, “Too many...in all up it has kept me behind bars for nine years total but I’ve been in and out for years. I only returned to the public eye a month ago.”

“Woah,” you whispered.

Nine years? A month? You didn’t have a lot of time to research him considering the call for lunch was so quick and speedy.

His fingers tapped the table softly. He shrugged, “Its not as bad as tellie makes it out to be...in fact it’s a way to network well. You can learn lots of new tricks when you’re forced into tight confinement.”

You started to take dot points. It’s interesting...being in prison for nine years...not all together but all total. Making connections and friends inside prison didn’t really click at first. You always assumed prison was a scary and lonely cell where you had to pee in front of everyone.

Nick looked back at the page and laughed, he rubbed his mouth and shook his head, “Are you a homosexual?”

You also laughed but it was more a awkward shyness, “No, I think I’m bisexual if anything but strictly gay I’m not. I can’t understand why that question would be even asked, I’m so sorry.” You grit your teeth and looked away.

He tilted his hand and shrugged, “It’s vicious rumour that I’m a pillow biter...I am not a homosexual.”

Its all he said. And that was something you really didn’t like writing down...it was so unnecessary.

“What is currently the cheapest drug you can achieve from your circle? Miss Y/N don’t tell me you sell drugs?” he giggled and folded the paper back a little.

'Jesus Christ'Luther!!!...you really wanted me to ask that!?' Your fists clenched under the table.

You dismissed it and grinned, “No, I do not. Sorry to be so boring....you?”

“Paracetamol,” he answered, “I can sell you some right now, I like to keep some nearby.”

Anyone could sell paracetamol...he deliberately said that, you knew.

“After the interview I think I might just,” you laughed and rubbed a little at your temple.

“How many people have you killed?”

You gasped. Your chest was like a loud metal band concert with your heart as the instrument racked, you didn’t understand how that was possible.

“None.” Well...your father....maybe...Nick didn’t need to know about that.

The philanthropic crime lord aka ‘businessman’ remained totally silent. Your hand paused.

“Are you not going to answer the question?...”

He put the paper down and plucked the menu, he unfolded the cardboard covered in matte black and gold designs, he looked down at the wine selection, “I think you might need to do something for me to answer that.”

“What?” you wanted to say you’d do it. But why would you promise anything to a man with his bad record.

“I’d need you to kill someone. And you don’t strike me as a murderer Miss Y/N.” His dark gaze flickered up at you, “Now...what would you like to eat?”

You bit your lip. He’s definitely killed before, or else he would’ve just said no. He wanted to you to know he was a murderer...you knew because his eyes remained perfectly still as he said it. No tremble or lying shame in those pupils.

You sat forward and drank a bit of your water.

Perhaps meeting Nick wasn’t just a benefit for the paper gossip. Maybe he could help you...you heard his voice ask you another question, probably about the menu, you do not remember...instead your thoughts tumbled out of your lips.

“....do you sell weapons Mister Tortano?”

The question caught him off guard. They weren’t on the paper your boss provided.

“Weapons?” he asked cautiously.

Shit, you had gone too far now to recall your thoughts, “Would you sell a gun to a woman even if she doesn’t have a license?”

His eyes sparkled.

“Whatever would you want a gun for Miss Y/N?” he leant back in his chair and pressed his fingers to his lips.

You tried to explain, but it was hard. You looked over your shoulder. It was too public to be discussing this. You whispered, “... There’s a rat who won’t leave me alone. I’d like to scare him...”

His eyes narrowed a little at your speech. He knew you weren’t being literal, so he replied coolly, “Are you asking for a gun or pest control?”

You whispered again, “A gun.”

He fluttered, you could tell he was staring down your shit to check for a wire.and clapped his hands loudly. The entire restaurant went from idle chatter and laughter to utter silence...it was eery...like a dream or a nightmare.

Nick shouted at the top of his lungs, echoing off the walls, “Leave us!”

The entire assembly of guests started to rise from their chairs. They packed up their brief cases and hand bags. Abandoning the half eaten food and untouched wine and champagne. Your nose wrinkled. What the fuck... they were all heading to the stair well, ignoring the elevators.

You looked back at Nicholas, confused, wondering if he meant you to leave too...you pinched the table cloth worryingly.

“Have you thought it through?” Nick asked now that the restaurant was empty, and quiet.

“What?” you didn’t understand. The entire perception of Nick Tortano was collapsing. He was so powerful...all those people were his. All of them under his thumb...all of them so obedient...

“Do you intend on threatening or killing?”

You felt trapped by his words.

“That’s my business Mister Tortano, politely speaking...” how could you confess to your intentions.

It was bad enough that he knew you wanted a gun.

You wondered if there was any chance you you make a run to the doors and run away. You were stepping from one scary man to another at this point.

After a while of sitting ashamed in silence, he stood up from his chair. His fingers lazily brushed the table, until he paused in front of you. He dragged his hand under your chin. He made you look at him, standing above you. His hand violently tore off your scarf and he tutted, “Is he the one who put the collar on you? The man to cover you in bruises? Might need a better foundation darling...I’m not stupid. I’d like to know if it’s going to reflect back on me. What’s the chaps name?”

You didn’t like how personally close he was standing above you. You felt small and trembled beneath his pinning dark brown eyes...they were practically black like some soulless shark. His white teeth looked starved.

You lied again, “...Lloyd...Ha-Han-Hansen...” perhaps Lloyd could handle Nick? But how? He couldn’t handle August. You regretted saying his name but that was it...you threw the only friend you had under the bus.

“Hmmm can’t say I know him well...”

“He’s um...a lawyer,” you lied again.

He smirked and whispered, “Is he?” his eyes narrowed with a glint of mischief.

He flipped his cardigan sweater up, on his hip, inside tucked in his jeans was a scary black gun... A hand gun.

“Well I do hope you get what you want out of him,” he pulled out the gun and set it on the table in front of you, “Here, consider it a gift...I find your disposition incredibly pleasing...”

You glanced at the gun and felt a rush of something...adrenaline? Anxiety? Arousal? Something became alive...

“I need to go. I’m so sorry,” you rushed to stand up, you pinched the weapon and carefully tucked it into your hand bag, “I need to leave.”

This was too easy. Far too coincidental. Maybe this was your father's spirit watching over you?

“Until we meet again,” he chuckled and stood aside. You could hear his wickedly laughter as you fled to the doors. As the doors closed behind you, you could see in the distance, Nick standing by the windows smelling your scarf deeply. Your hand touched your throst and felt the jagged material. You weren't sure if you wanted to go back for the scarf. Watching him press his face into the soft material- the action was perverse...he was perverse...just like August. A mighty shiver rolled up your spine. You didn’t have time to worry about that.

You were filled with all the raw emotions of the last month. Anger, grief, revenge....

You now had a gun... The power to wield death easily. Now you just needed your chance.

You kept hearing Lloyd in the back of your mind...would killing August be worth your own life?

Especially life in prison.

You shoved it back and focused on the pain you felt, the agony as you cried in his lap under threats of his spanking. He wiped you when you used the toilet...he called you puppy...he forced you to cum and cry....he made you beg and suck his cock just to hold you...he treated you as a subhuman.

02:06pm Wednesday 21st August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane

You opened your front door, slamming it behind you. And as you started to slide the bolts and chains, you heard something down the hallway...a small crash? No? A grunt...

Angry eyes and a sneer grew on your face. You marched down, your father’s door was wide open.

And there the fucker was. August... Folding clothes into your father’s bed from a washing basket.

You saw red.

“Wh-what the fuck...get out!”

He lifted his head and finished folding a pair of your jeans, your head leaned back to your bedrooms opened door before you looked back at him inside your father's room.

“Your home is a mess,” He said nonchalantly, “I won’t have you stomping around in squalor.”

He had gone into your room and cleaned it. And on any given day, that would’ve earned a man a blowjob, not him though, no...he was in your space and invading your life too much.

With a flared nostril you snarled, “I am giving you five seconds to leave. Or I'll-”

He snickered at your defiant demand, “Or what? You’re going to call the cops?”

You didn’t want to kill him here...You dug into your hand bag and it felt impossibly slow and heavy in your hand. You pointer the gun at his head and fought the trembling in your body and your voice, “Or you’re going to choke on your own blood August.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t expect your display. He paused and continued to fold the laundry. You didn’t like being ignored and moved inside of your father’s room. It wouldn’t be the first time a man died in this room.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” He said without a single hint of fear.

You held the gun now in both hands. You stood strong and came closer around the bed.

You scoffed, “No, of course not, you manipulate me, drug me, hit me, and raped me but 'oh nooooo I won’t shoot you'?”

He smiled and shook his head slowly. He appeared so unafraid and that caused a spit of hate to hit your face. You wanted him to be on his knees, begging for his life, pleading for forgiveness while he pissed himself. This was not at all what you imagined, him folding the washing and sorting to find pairs of socks.

“One,” You said.

He sighed and threw your underwear back into the basket. He started to walk around the bed gradually.

You screeched, “Two, stay the fuck away from me!”

He stopped and raised his hands. Slowly he perched himself on the corner of your dad’s bed.

“Three,” you said a little shakily. He still didn’t flinch. You felt suffocated. Why wasn’t he scared?

You pissed in his lap when he pointed one at you in the club. This wasn’t fair.

Tears uncontrollably started to fall from your eyes. You didn’t want to kill him...god you hated him...but if he wasn’t going to beg you, you didn’t want to kill him. Especially in this room...besides ...what would you do with his body?

“F-four, don’t make me do this August!”

You moved closer and closer until the tip of the metal weapon pressed into his forehead.

It was now or never...“Pl-please, don’t...” you begged, hoping he would walk out of the room and apartment. You squeezed your eyes shut.

You pulled the trigger and screamed as you did it. The trigger didn’t move...it felt stuck. You pulled it again and nothing happened. You opened your eyes and noted how the gun hadn’t gone off and August was still happily breathing with a dark, sadistic grin on his moustached lips.

“Five...” he hummed and wrapped his palm around the barrel, pulling it up and tugging it away from your trembling hands, “your safety is still on, and...” He clicked off the top and sighed, “It’s not even loaded.”

You crashed to your knees and vomited right over his leather shoes. You weren’t prepared for the rush of exhaustion to hit you. Your body shook. Your fingers clenched the soaked carpet. The metal of the unloaded gun lifted your chin up. Tears ran down your cheeks beautifully.

“Tell me, did the piggy give this to you?”

Your swollen lips blubbered, “No!” Lloyd didn’t need any more wicked men following him around.

You shut your eyes and sniffled. Surely August would kill you. This must’ve been some sort of a strike three, yes?

“Then where did you get your paws on one of these?...” he bit his smile lip.

“A friend...” it wasn’t a total lie. Nick liked you, you somewhat found him intriguing. Yes you’d only met that day...but he was a friend now for a moment in your mind.

August pulled you up into his lap by your hair. Hot lips pressed into your neck and nuzzling your ratty leather collar, “You were really going to kill me...weren’t you?” he cooed as you started to sniffle and choke on your tears, “You pulled that trigger. I underestimated you sweetness...don’t worry. I won’t punish you for that.”

He cupped the back of your head, pulling you in for a big kiss. His lips soft, but his hand tight and filled with dominance.

You felt light. He was kissing you just after you vomited. Gross.

He pulled away and spat at the floor, he chuckled and pressed his nose against yours.

“In fact...I got you a gift.”

You whined and fluttered your eyes, “I don’t want a gift from you.”

You weren’t mentally prepared for any sick sexual torture he had in store for you. You could see his jaw shift and his eyes dash back and forth.

“Are you sure? I think you’ll like it.”

Your hands touched the collar hopefully. Maybe it was the key?

He slid his hands under your armpits. You heard your bag hit the dry side of the floor.

He lifted you with ease to your feet and pressed a hand at the small of your back, pushing you to the bathroom.

He was so huge compared to you. The lower ceiling made you have a flash of worry...what if he hit his head?

He was fine.

He turned on the shower and peeled away your clothes. He wasn’t rough, and he wasn’t leering...he was soft...and patient. He pushed your long sleeved shirt up and gasped at the sight of bruises Lloyd created from the gym. His thumb unkindly pressed into one. You whined and tried to step away but your ass pressed into the vanity sink.

He knew he hadn’t given you these.

“And who has my puppy been playing rough with? Don’t tell me you’ve spread your legs for someone else now...”

He turned you around slowly, inspecting the marks he had not made on your skin. His hands palmed over your flesh.

The steam from the shower began to whaf out. You tried to not imagine the water bill ticking up.

He pinched your bra off and watched your arms circle to cover your chest.

He turned you back to face him. Unbuttoning your jeans, he tugged them down and helped take off your shoes. He pressed his lips to a bruise on your outer thigh. The temptation to throw your knee into his throat was great.

His hand cupped the back of your knee. His nose was so close to your underwear covered pussy, you could feel his hot breath tickling your clit.

Your panties were gradually pulled down to your ankle and you used his shoulder for balance as you stood out of the flimsy material.

He stood back and opened the shower door for you. He left the bathroom door open and you didn’t want to risk a punishment for locking him out. He took your clothes to the laundry and heard him open your cleaning supply closet where you kept a mop and broom and vacuum cleaner.

As you soaped your body, the suds building along your skin and back you sighed. The collar rubbed against your neck. It was a reminder...

He was powerful. He was scary and you were risking death. You had just tried to kill him...at any moment he could bash your head in until your skull caved, no one would find you for days...maybe weeks...he said he wouldn’t kill you but that was before you pulled a gun on him.

You were angry at yourself...angry at Ben....why would the gun be empty?! Couldn’t Nick have told you that? Maybe he assumed you knew how to handle one...

August came back into the bathroom after ten minutes of cleaning. You didn’t dare to leave the shower in that time.

He was back. And now...he was naked. You uncontrollably worried and pressed your back into the bathroom tile. He stood into the shower, stealing the hot spray when it hit his back.

He was so hairy, and huge. He was like a bear.

You gulped and glanced at his dick. He was flaccid but you knew he could fuck you with a soft dick or just his hands alone.

He held out his hand and whispered, “The soap, please.”

Your hand shook as you shakily handed over the small white bar. It was the cheapest shit on the shelves you could find.

Now you regretted not spending the money you saw in your bank account. You would die feeling poor.

You tried to cover your nakedness. A hand between your thighs. You felt the bareness and cringed your face. He would’ve waxed you again or shaved while you were ‘in his care’ after the club incident.

The huge man started to rub the soap along his thighs and his arms and chest.

He smelt of your vomit...he cleaned it up for you...his clothes...you could hear the laundry machine.

He either was cleaning evidence or he was staying the night.

His face...was soft. He wasn’t angry...he was deep in thought... He was pleased. The faintest of smiles was on his furry face.

When he was finished. He touched your waist and pressed you to turn around him in the cubicle. Now the hot water covered your shivering skin. He rubbed some more soap into his hands and rubbed the bubbled into your skin. Along the back of your neck he rubbed and pinched. A tiny moan imminently slipped from your lips. You hoped he hadn’t heard it.

He did...

You knew he was gliding his hands down to your bottom and rubbing the darkened skin he planted when he spanked you. You hissed and softly swore as his thumb pressed in. A small threat, a warning? A reminder...

He touched you everywhere except your tits and your cunt...which shocked you as you braced from his hands every time they drew near those areas. The sense of denial played in your mind.

Your body felt warm...humming as it was teased.

He did touch the leather around your neck and tutted at the parts you damaged with scissors, where the metal you couldn’t cut poked out.

Turning the shower off, August opened the door again and guided you out onto the soft floor mat. He took a towel from the vanity draw and wrapped it over your shoulders like you were some kid at the beach.

He wrapped a towel around his waist. His body dripping and soaking into the edge.

You were poked out of the room and made to go into your room. Your dad’s door was still open however and that made you uncomfortable.

On your bed...was a box....

The gift...was an actual gift!? It was wrapped in white and gold paper with a pink tulle ribbon around it.

You shifted your towel around to wrap yourself in and looked between the man leaning on the doorway and the wrapped box on your bed.

He nodded to it. Open it. A silent command.

Your curled your lips into your mouth as you pulled the tulle ribbon away and scratched the paper back.

A deep gasp left your chest, “A phone?...”

It was one of the newest if the models you used. This type of phone usually cost three thousand dollars!

Behind you the awful man laughed softly, “For stepping on the one from the club.”

The tiny smile that was coming to your lips, disappeared. If he hadn’t reminded you of that night, you might’ve kept smiling. Your fist clenched. You were angry. Did he know how scared you were as you ran in the dark? Did he know you hated him even more because of this gift. This wasn’t a gift, this was a bribe...

Your jaw ticked and you turned on your heel, you held your towel tightly, “I am not saying thankyou.”

He chuckled at that and nodded, he tilted his head to the side and wagged a finger at you, “I swear every time I see you, you become twice as fiery.”

When he stood forward you got scared and tripped back and fell onto your bed. The phone box slid to the floor. Your heart raced. You noted how you accidentally flashed him as the towel fell from your hands.

He paused, not moving any further. He could see how frightened you were. And if you didn’t know any better...he didn’t want to scare you today.

His smile fell and he sighed, “Before I forget...your sex toy arrived.”

You crept off your bed as he left the door way. He was quickly back before you could make an escape.

He held a box and threw it to you. Without thought you let go of your towel and caught the box with the erotic images and product on it.

Stark nude and wet you stood. You turned away from him and put the box with your newly bought toy on the bed. You put your phone box beside it.

He was watching you with bird eyes as you tried to pick up the towel and cover yourself again.

“So let me see,” he hummed, he crossed his arms over his chest and clicked his tongue, “First you threaten to kill me,” he pushed away from the door, “You then attempt to actually kill me,” and he shakes his head chuckling, “and now I find out my cock isn’t enough to satisfy? Good heavens...have I neglected my greedy little puppy?”

Your hands lifted... Your towel was loose but you had tucked it to your body. You prepared your fighting stance like how Lloyd showed you.

“Get out...” you spat.

“No,” he smirked, “I will not.” He launched forward.

He grabbed your towel and you slipped from the material. You ran around his body, ripping his towel off as you ran out.

You slipped on water droplets in the hall and slid down the hall to the kitchen.

As he came around the corner, you flung a cupboard door open hard that smacked his hard in the face. You smiled hearing his painful groan.

"Fuck!"

He pushed it back and tried to grab you as you ran around the mini island. You threw his towel at his face as you made a rush back to your room. You managed to lock a chain and bolt on the bedroom door. You panicked and climbed under your pathetic single bed. You heard him behind the wood.

“Open up little puppy...or I’m gonna huff...” he said, “and then I’ll puff...”

When you made no sign of opening the door and remaining beneath the bedframe. The door burst open. The locks tore through the metal nook. He walked through. He nakedly crouched by the side of the bed and sighed at you curled up under your bed. He shook his head and softly smiled. He laid flat on the floor beside you.

“Watcha doin down there sweetness?”

You felt a breath escape you. A soft laugh. Was he fucking serious?!

“Hiding,” you mumbled into your wrists.

He fluttered his eyes shut. His hand rested on his Bare stomach.

“Well I found you, so you might as well come out. You’re black and blue. I don’t want to drag you over the carpet, don’t want rip up your knees pup.”

You couldn’t understand why he kept calling you that. You weren’t a puppy...you...you were human and you still weren’t sure how that pet name even fit you .

You knew he was right though, there was only way out and it didn’t matter. You would need to face him. If he wanted to kill you, nothing could’ve stopped him from strangling your throat. After a minute or two you finally gave in... Wiggling your butt from under the bed. He moved up to his knees. He watched you stick your head out and shimmy to the open air.

You knew trying to run out the door was useless and there was no other locks other than the front door. You rubbed your lips, staring at the broken locks and the door that hung off only one hinge...you really hated him...

His large soft hand rubbed your cheek and the back of your neck, cupping you closer to his body.

Both in your knees, he pulled you into his chest.

You pleaded softly, “Please...”

“Kiss me puppy,” he begged and looked down at your lips. You glanced to his eyes and shut yours as your pushed your face up.

He was gentle. His tongue poked Into your mouth and your lips closed. He kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip loudly. God it felt good. It felt hot and inviting. This kiss was like a deep hot bath or a cosy blanket. His hands squeezed your arms and cocooned you closer to his damp skin. You just wanted to wrap yourself in his body and sleep...except your body felt attacked by an invisible electricity, like a dozen bees rumbling down from your chest to the folds between your thighs.

Your could barely breathe.

When he pulled back he shuddered, “Are you turned on?”

You gasped, “No, why would I-”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m scared,” your nose twitched and your gazed over his chest, feeling his cock twitch against your belly.

He chuckled and shook his head, he pressed a hard kiss against your cheek, “Merely two sides of the same coin...”

You whimpered and felt his hands smooth down your ass to your thighs. He lifted you up and pushed you onto your bed. You were at the same height now. Him kneeling on the floor with your sitting on your bed.

“You are safe, trust me,” he kissed your lips briskly, “Say it.”

“I...” you hesitated, “I am safe...and I trust you.”

His thumb pressed under your jaw, he kissed you again, “Good girl. I am not going to hurt you...truly...I promise.”

He dragged his lips down to your chest. He sucked in one of your tits. His lips smacked as he licked and sucked around your skin, you felt strange. Dirty but in a good way. Your own back curled to push into his mouth.

He pulled up after one satisfying suck, “That felt good yea?”

“S-so good,” you stuttered. Your cheeks felt warm it was like you were drunk but you knew you had a full sober conscious..

“Would you like to feel that again?” he asked, his hands ran up your thighs, spreading your knees.

You sighed as his thumb licked at your clit. You rocked your hip a little and whined. Fuck it felt good.

“Answer me puppy”

“I- oh god- I want to feel that again.”

He kissed your belly and pushed you back a little. Your head thudded against the wall. Your hands shakily grasped some pillows and put them behind your back. Your gleaming cunt glistened...that was totally you...no lube...no spit....just your arousal alone.

“Look at this pussy.” He marvelled as he pushed two fingers inside. You gasped and let out a feral moan.

“It just swallows up my fingers...do you like my fingers fucking your wet pussy?”

You whined and but your lip. When you didn’t answer, he pulled them out. He started licking them lewdly as he waited for your reply.

“I...” Your hands covered your eyes as you moaned, “I don’t know.”

“Are you turned on?” he asked you again.

“Yes,” you admitted. You just wanted his fingers back there again.

“Do you want my cock?” He purred in a soft belittling time.

“Y-yes...” you almost sobbed. God admitting it now made yourself sick. How could you admit to that? Your entire goal was to kill him. Take him down. Destroy his reputation. But here you were.

In your bedroom, crying for him to fuck you with his huge dick.

He climbed on top of you and tugged your ankles over his waist.

You felt his hard head press into your hole. His cock popped inside and his hips started the deep defend inside of you. He held your hips, lifting you up.

“Do you hate me?” he crooned, his teeth gnawed at your earlobe.

“I do,” you growled, in his ear, “fucking hate your guts.”

He laughed and groaned, “You hate my fucking guts?”

“Yes, fuck,” you gasped and scratched the back of his neck.

He was stretching you out and you drowned in his touch. You felt his cock tapping at your special spot and felt your knees clench tighter around his ribs.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked despite being balls deep and jerking his hips into yours.

“Yes. Oh god,” you gargled as he decided to slam himself harder and faster. Your nails dug into his biceps. Your teeth were grit tightly. You kept swearing. It hurt and felt so good altogether.

“Who do you belong to?” he sighed, his eyes winced while your pussy clenched him tightly.

You grunted angrily, “No body.”

He punctuated with his jerking hips, “You. Belong. To. Me.”

“N-no!” You yelped, his finger curled under your collar and tugged up you neck until you were forced to put yourself up on your elbows. He slowed his speed but kept his deep entrance.

“Oh but you do puppy, you do. You already know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

His other hand pressed against your clit and your eyes rolled a little. Your nostril flared. Fuck that was painfully good. He tugged you up by the leather strap until your nose pressed against his. His moustache tickles against your lip.

“Whose collar is around this throat?” he growlee.

You grunted, “Yours.”

“That’s right...it’s. Mine. My. Collar.”

He kissed you hard and possessively. Not once did he let the collar go. He shoved his mouth into your ear as he ground down hard inside your cunt.

“Would you fuck any other man with this collar on?”

Your hand hugged the back of his neck and scratched, “No!”

“So tell me, who do you belong to.”

Your gasped, spit flying from your mouth against his as you said it, “Y-you.”

“That’s right, good puppy. You belong to me. I own you. You are my pet. You are mine to look after...mine to protect.”

It was a mantra, a speech that planted itself into your mind as a new fact...like a new commandment that always had been yet unspoken until now.

“Say it you little bitch,” he barked.

“Yours, I’m yours,” your eyes rolled as you started to cum, your words caught in your mouth until you Released a ear piercing scream, “I belong to you!!”

You felt him cackle as you wailed through the orgasm. The pressure was like a water balloon bursting in your belly and shooting a burning pleasure through your cunt.

It took you a while to calm down. You sobbed. The pleasure was too much...you felt confused and consumed. His cock twitch and he grunted loudly before freezing. His cock moved again and you felt him pull away, his cum rushed out and dripped out of you.

You felt full and empty. It was an unusual sensation.

He was sweating, your were drenched. Leaning over your trembling body, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and sighed, “what are you?”

“Yours,” you whined.

He chuckled and shook his head. His fingers pinched your jaw, “No, what are you to me?”

“I...” you paused and blinked lazily. Your brain was too fuzzy. “I don’t understand...I don’t know.”

Your hand wandered up to your throat. His hand was fiddling with the metal. You heard the collar pop and click. He pulled the collar away and threw it over his shoulder, “You’re my puppy.”

"And..." You voice rattled through your teeth, "And you're...daddy?"

He kissed you again and nodded, "Good girl."

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[ladylooch]

Lacey and Kevin blurb.

Lacey Fiala sits on the edge of her family pool, little eyebrows scrunched at her over-excited father. She isn’t buying what he is selling.

“Baby, I’ve got you. I promise.” She squints harder. Her hot pink floaties make it hard to cross her arms. She rubs her toes together, pouting. 

“No.”

“Mama, Daddy, and Luca are all in here. It’s fun!” Kevin insists, knowing it’s probably a moot point. Lacey hates the pool. She hates bath time. She hates the lake at the cabin. But Kevin can’t wrap his head around his little girl hating water so much.

“Kev, don’t force her.” Sam calls from where she is monitoring Luca diving for rings at the bottom of the pool. “If she wants to stay there, you’ll have to stay there with her.” Kevin sighs, looking back at his two year old. Her hair is in poofy pig tails off to the sides. She has lime green scrunchies holding them in place. Her green eyes, brown hair and stubborn look are Sam through and through. 

“Okay. Daddy will stay here.” He murmurs, sitting himself up onto the ledge with her. Lacey smiles, immediately crawling into his lap. 

“Off.” She pats at the floatie on her left arm. Kevin helps work them off her. He reaches behind him to grab her towel hanging of the chaise. It’s filled with puppies and kitties with a pink background. The cloth engulfs the little girl in the towel. She seems so tiny, but looks up at him with big green eyes. She’s happy as a clam now. She grips Kevin’s forearm as he settles her in his lap, looking at Sam and Luca.

“I got all of them in one breath!” Luca exclaims to Sam as he pops up with the five rings. “Can you throw them farther now?”

“Loooo.” Lacey coos pointing at her brother as he disappears under the water. She bops her foot along Kevin’s calf, gripping his leg hair in her toes.

“Ow, baby. Be nice. Don’t pull the hair.” Kevin asks. 

“Hey.” Sam calls to Kevin. She tilts her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, green eyes meeting his gaze over the lenses. “You look too good with that baby in your lap. Mama might need a snack later.”

“I’ll give you something to put in your mouth.” Kevin nods, licking his lips. Sam chuckles, dragging her sunglasses back up her nose. Lacey sighs heavily, leaning her little head back into Kevin’s abdomen. He drops a kiss between her pigtails. “Almost nap time for you.” 

“No.” 

“Is that your favorite word now?” Lacey giggles as Kevin tickles her side. She pinches her shoulder up towards her cheek, collapsing into infections giggles that have Kevin laughing heartily with her. “Are you the cutest baby in the whole world too?” 

“Yeah!” Luca cheers in response from where he has climbed up into his mom’s arms. He looks exhausted. “Meine kleine Schwester ist die Beste.”

“Best baby sister for sure.” Kevin translates for his wife. Lacey yawns loudly. Her eyes droop as  Sam and Luca work their way towards them. Sam puts Luca next to Kevin. “I’m gonna move under the umbrella. I’ll hold her while she naps.”

“Okay.” Sam murmurs, puckering her lips. Kevin graciously drops a smooch there. Her vanilla chapstick transfers to his lips. 

“Mmm, you taste so sweet.” He tilts his head to the side, kissing along her cheek to her ear. “Daddy get to taste you later?”

“Yeah. I’m dying at you holding our baby right now.” Kevin runs his nose along her collar bone, dropping kisses before he pulls away. 

“Not the baby for long though, no?” He smiles, giving his newly pregnant wife another kiss. “Thank you mama for my babies.” He says to her, then walks over to the chaise lounge.

“Okay, I’m ready for more!” Luca insists, jumping back into the pool water. He re-adjusts his goggles, then is off for his next dive.

While Luca and Sam do that, Kevin rocks their toddler. His arms hold her tightly to him, with her towel still wrapped around her. She reaches up for his jaw, stroking at his skin like she has since she was three months old. Lacey only does this to Kevin. As she gets more tired, her hand begins to fall. Kevin grabs her pudgy wrist, kissing along the palm of her hand before putting it back on her chest. 

Kevin leans back in the chaise, slowly maneuvering Lacey to rest her face against his chest. He laces his fingers together over her butt to hold her in place. Then, he heaves a heavy sigh, ready to join his daughter for a nap of his own. 

[my-weird-news]

Scooter Braun's Epic Response to Client Exodus Rumors! 😱

Scooter Braun Drama Unveiled: The Great Celebrity Exodus...Or Not? 👋 Oh, Scooter Braun, the maestro of management, the wizard of wooing stars! 🌟 But hold on to your hats, folks, because it seems like his star-studded empire is crumbling like a soggy cookie. 🍪✨ In a tweet that could've made Hemingway jealous with its brevity, Braun, who's no stranger to a lineup of A-listers, spilled the beans: "Breaking news... I’m no longer managing myself," he declared. Hold on, Scooter! Managing yourself? That's like a chef refusing to cook their own dinner or a lifeguard needing a floatie in the kiddie pool. 🏊‍♂️ So, what's the scoop? Rumor had it that Justin Bieber, Ariana Grande, and Demi Lovato were giving Scooter the old heave-ho. 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️ It got so wild that even fictional characters like Annabelle from those creepy Conjuring movies and Peppa Pig were supposedly jumping ship! 🐷👻 Talk about a porcine power move. Grande, the queen of vocal acrobatics, pulled off a daring escape from Scooter's clutches after a solid decade of musical matrimony. Lovato, on the other hand, seems to be treating this breakup with Braun as amicably as you'd split a brownie with your BFF. 🍫💔 Bieber, the boy wonder who was discovered by Scooter thanks to the miracle of YouTube, apparently tried to escape this managerial maze as well. But hold your horses (or should we say scooters?), representatives from both camps denied the rumors faster than you can say "belieber." Oh, and let's not forget the insider scoop that Scooter is still holding Grande and Bieber under his management spell. 🪄🎶 According to an unnamed source with the inside track, it's all just a big misunderstanding. It's like a game of telephone gone wild. 📞🤷‍♂️ Now, let's talk Taylor Swift. Remember that time when Scooter bought her master recordings? Swift wasn't singing "Shake It Off" about that. 🎤🚫 She even took to Tumblr (oh, those were the days!) to share her feelings: "Never in my worst nightmare did I imagine the buyer would be Scooter." Ouch, Scooter, that's gotta sting more than a bee in a Speedo. But fear not, Swifties! Our queen has been on a mission to reclaim her musical kingdom by re-recording her old albums. 🎶👑 It's like watching a musical time machine, and we're all invited to the party. 🕺💃 So, what's the moral of the story? In the world of showbiz, managers might come and go, but the tunes keep playing, the drama keeps unfolding, and the hashtags keep trending. 🎵🎭📈 And that's a wrap on the Scooter Braun spectacle! 🎬👋# Scooter Braun Drama Unveiled: The Great Celebrity Exodus...Or Not? 👋 Oh, Scooter Braun, the maestro of management, the wizard of wooing stars! 🌟 But hold on to your hats, folks, because it seems like his star-studded empire is crumbling like a soggy cookie. 🍪✨ In a tweet that could've made Hemingway jealous with its brevity, Braun, who's no stranger to a lineup of A-listers, spilled the beans: "Breaking news... I’m no longer managing myself," he declared. Hold on, Scooter! Managing yourself? That's like a chef refusing to cook their own dinner or a lifeguard needing a floatie in the kiddie pool. 🏊‍♂️ So, what's the scoop? Rumor had it that Justin Bieber, Ariana Grande, and Demi Lovato were giving Scooter the old heave-ho. 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️ It got so wild that even fictional characters like Annabelle from those creepy Conjuring movies and Peppa Pig were supposedly jumping ship! 🐷👻 Talk about a porcine power move. Grande, the queen of vocal acrobatics, pulled off a daring escape from Scooter's clutches after a solid decade of musical matrimony. Lovato, on the other hand, seems to be treating this breakup with Braun as amicably as you'd split a brownie with your BFF. 🍫💔 Bieber, the boy wonder who was discovered by Scooter thanks to the miracle of YouTube, apparently tried to escape this managerial maze as well. But hold your horses (or should we say scooters?), representatives from both camps denied the rumors faster than you can say "belieber." Oh, and let's not forget the insider scoop that Scooter is still holding Grande and Bieber under his management spell. 🪄🎶 According to an unnamed source with the inside track, it's all just a big misunderstanding. It's like a game of telephone gone wild. 📞🤷‍♂️ Now, let's talk Taylor Swift. Remember that time when Scooter bought her master recordings? Swift wasn't singing "Shake It Off" about that. 🎤🚫 She even took to Tumblr (oh, those were the days!) to share her feelings: "Never in my worst nightmare did I imagine the buyer would be Scooter." Ouch, Scooter, that's gotta sting more than a bee in a Speedo. But fear not, Swifties! Our queen has been on a mission to reclaim her musical kingdom by re-recording her old albums. 🎶👑 It's like watching a musical time machine, and we're all invited to the party. 🕺💃 So, what's the moral of the story? In the world of showbiz, managers might come and go, but the tunes keep playing, the drama keeps unfolding, and the hashtags keep trending. 🎵🎭📈 And that's a wrap on the Scooter Braun spectacle! 🎬👋 Read the full article

[lo-frequency]

Bakusquad + Todoroki Pet Headcanons!

Just some hc’s of what pets I think the boys would have and how they’d treat them. This is definitely a crack post 💀

Bakugou

-A bulldog, named Killer. Killer the Great Explosion Murder Dog to be exact.

-He’s an all white bulldog with a little spike collar around his neck. The alternative is a collar with a fake grenade attached, usually used when Bakugou takes him out in public.

-Killer also has a harness with the little flare attachments on each side like on Bakugou’s mask.

-Despite his name (and what Bakugou wants you to believe), Killer is as sweet as they come. “C’mere, Killer!” Bakugou calls him, smacking his leg and you’re expecting this absolute menace to come charging down the hall. Instead, Killer’s stocky self comes trotting out of Bakugou’s room with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his lil’ tail nub wagging.

-Bakugou’s like “I’ve been training him to be an attack dog” and Killer only runs like a few feet from the house before stopping, opting to lay down and roll over for a belly rub.

-Don’t be fooled by all his tough talk, Bakugou most certainly spoils Killer, that’s exactly why he’s so lazy. His days consist of begging for treats and pretending not to understand Bakugou’s instructions. Not to mention that he has a big, memory foam dog bed, gets fed real food, and Katsuki takes him for 2 walks a day, everyday.

-Pats him roughly, but Killer is one of those dogs who likes slaps on the butt so he doesn’t mind lol. They play rough too, and at any given time Bakugou can be found rolling around the floor, play wrestling with Killer.

-Imagine if he posted tiktoks of Killer and people started trolling him like “Killer is slow, my dog can run faster than him” “Killer is overweight” “He can’t even run down the street”

-Bakugou truly believes Killer can do everything he says about him, and gets offended if you even insinuate otherwise. He would get mad at all the haters in the comments, clapping back at them like “I know you’re not talking with that lil’ rat dog in your profile pic” and he’d challenge them to races in the local dog parks so he can defend Killer’s reputation 💀. Well, one person actually accepted so now Bakugou has to train Killer for his first race.

-And then when he posts videos of him and Killer exercising, people are like “You’re pushing him too hard” “Poor Killer” “Stop forcing him to exercise” He just can’t win 🤷🏾‍♀️.

-Denki comes over and exposes him like “Killer’s been training alright, training his jaws” while filming Bakugou passing Killer food under the table.

-“Where’s Killer?” “He’s training in the pool right now.” “In the pool? Dude, you know bulldogs can’t swim, right?” “Well my Killer swims all the time!” And his friends rush to his backyard to see Killer lazily paddling around Bakugou’s pool with a floaty fitted on his little body lol.

-Killer loves him some Katsuki. He would be so clingy with him, following him everywhere he goes in the house, to the point where Bakugou has almost tripped over Killer several times. He has to close the door or put a baby gate up so he won’t interrupt him and all you hear in the background is Killer howling at the door.

-Killer fan cams, lmaoo

-Katsuki goes live and all people are asking about is Killer, and all the donations are “Killer’s Treat Fund” “Feed Killer on Camera” “Give him a belly rub”

-Bakugou never should’ve showed Killer on social media, it’s his account now 💀

Todoroki

-I can see Shoto with beta fish, but he wouldn’t know that you can’t put two males in the same tank.

-So one day, he comes home from work and sees that one of his fish is,,,not alive.

-Shoto quickly puts two and two together after seeing that the other beta fish is a little injured too, and he is absolutely horrified.

-After he cleans up the mess, he just looks at the survivor fish. Shoto can’t help but feel contempt toward him. He’s a murderer, he killed his other fish.

-From then on, Shoto does not like the survivor fish. He still takes care of him, but out of duty as his owner, only 😒.

-People on social media ask him what his fish’s name is. “He doesn’t have a name.”

-And then he makes a post like “Some of you have asked me why my fish doesn’t have a name. It’s because I don’t like him. He’s a murderer.” (Y’all, please 💀)

-People start calling him Killer Fish and Bakugou comments that there can only be one Killer, and that’s his dog.

Kirishima

-A turtle. He’d have one of those turtles with the raised horns/spikes on its shell and his name would be Tank.

-So Kiri thinks Tank the Turtle is the toughest little dude around, and often posts videos of him swimming or walking around outside.

-He’s like “You know, I think he’s faster than most turtles.” “How do you know that?” He shrugs, watching Tank with a grin “I can just tell, I mean look at him, he’s going!” And Tank is chugging along the ground at a good .002 mph.

-He’d have Tank on his back as he does push ups or on his chest as he lifts weights. “What number are we on Tank? 100? Alright, 100 more to go!”

-Kiri would make videos of Tank doing tricks, like knocking down a wall of tiny styrofoam bricks or climbing over a little ramp he made. He’s cheering for him the whole time, and he gets a treat after. “That was so manly, Tank!! Good boy!”

-Yes, a turtle can be manly too.

Denki

-A guinea pig, mostly blonde except a little black mark on her head, just like Denki. And you guessed it…he named her Pikachu.

-Denki is enamored with her for the first couple days, carrying her everywhere with him and constantly posting her on his social media. He couldn’t wait to get home from work so he could play with her and feed her little bits of lettuce.

-She seems to adore him too, hardly moving when he pets her so she can maximize his attention as much as possible, and jumping on his lap whenever he takes her out of the cage.

-He holds her up to the camera like “What can I say? The ladies love me. Isn’t that right, Pikachu?”

-She’s so cute that he doesn’t question how her cage seems to pop open by itself sometimes, or how she sometimes nios at his fingers if he holds her for too long.

-The unfortunate truth is that Pikachu cannot stand Denki 💀. Idk what he did, maybe it’s the way he smells, maybe it’s his voice, idk, but she is trying her best to stay away from him.

-The cage doesn’t pop open by itself, Pikachu has figured out how to escape, so now Denki regularly comes home to an empty cage and he has to track her down to put her back.

-“Day 3 of missing Pikachu. This is what come home to everyday, guys” and he flips the camera to show bits of food and guinea pig droppings scattered all over the place. Her little squeaks haunt him at night, but he knows he won’t be able to find her.

-He has such a hard time finding her, and he swears she teases him by squeaking nearby, then running somewhere he can’t get her.

-He’s on live and people try to give him advice but none of it works. Pikachu rushes past the screen behind him and they tell him to look. Denki abandons his live to chase after Pikachu and you just hear crashing and yelling in the background.

-When he comes back, he’s in his ‘fried’ mode and people are like wtf happened 💀

-He managed to put her back in the cage, but he had to end the live early.

(Can y’all imagine being jealous of a guinea pig? 😔) Thanks for tuning in! :)

[aw-colorcat]

My friends thought it was criminal that no “when pigs fly” pokemon existed, so I made one!

Other facts about the Plimp:

They are sometimes bred for certain colors and patterns

A famous movie starred a Plimp named “Boss Hog”

They feel like a pool floatie

You can ride on them

[paisley-print]

HeadCanons: The Boys Teaching You How To Swim

Tw: Mentions of Drowning, Swearing.

Characters: Marcus / Oberyn / Javier / Mando / Catfish / Joel / Max Lord / Ezra

Rating: SFW

NOTE: Gosh my first HC post!

JAVI

“I’m drowning!”

“You’re not,” Javi said deadpan. Teach was a loose word. You fell into a pool on a chase now him and Murphy were standing there unamused, watching while you doggy paddled wildly in a circle. 

“I am!”

Javi sighed and put his hands on his hips. “You’re in three feet of water just stand up.”

“Aghh!” you screamed “something touched my foot!”

He pulled out a cigarette and handed one to Murphy. “It was your other foot.”

“How can you be so sure!”

“Because I can see it, stand up!”

Murphy called out teasing “don’t worry “y/n” it took Olivia two lessons to get the hang of it.”

“Hey,” Javi said, lowering his voice and turning to Steve, “go get her.”

Steve scoffed “Why me? you do it.”

You cut in “I’m actively dying over here!”

Both men turned to you to shout in unison “STAND UP!”

CATFISH

“What is that?” You ask, squinting at the plastic in his hands. 

Catfish cleared his throat. “Its ah- modified flotation device.”

“It’s floaties…with Peppa Pig on them.”

“It’s all they had in Walmart” he said apologetically. 

“Can’t you just hold me?” You whined.

“If I hold you then you won’t be swimming”

You pout presenting him your arms “fine.”

He smiles, sliding them up your arms while stifling a laugh. “We may have just found your nickname.”

“CATFISH FUCKING MORALES I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU TELL THE OTHERS ABOUT THIS I WILL END YOU.”

DIN

“What do you mean you’re not going in with me?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Beskar is not exactly buoyant.”

You cross your arms over you’re chest and huff. “Well I’m not going in without you.”

“I’ll stand here the whole time, look the kid is going in-”

“How is that going to help me?”

“If you start drowning, then he’ll use his Jedi magic.”

“So my life is in the hands of a green bean- good to know.”

Din sighed heavily “if you go in I will let you fly the crest out of the atmosphere.”

You gasp dramatically “you mean it?”

“Once” he warns, then softens. “I’ll be watching the whole time, I would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

WHISKEY 

“Well goddamn sugar- I didn’t know I was married to a mermaid”

“Jack” you said annoyed “you’re supposed to be helping me swim, not staring at me from the deep end.”

“I can’t help it if I am stunned by you’re beauty doll.”

You roll your eyes hard. 

He laughs and throws his hands up. “Fine, swim to me Ill catch you.”

You scrunch up your nose nervously “that’s kinda far.”

“Would you like me to come over there and let me show you how good I am at mouth to mouth to reassure you?”

You cross you’re arms over your chest and grumble at him.

MAX LORD

The man has no idea how to swim - but he would pay for lessons.

JOEL 

Would be an excellent teacher, since he taught Ellie.“Remember don’t just flail about you gotta push the water with you’re whole arm.”

“Why aren’t you in here with me?” you pant.

“To build you’re confidence darlin’….you know, once you get a little better at this and maybe we’ll take a trip to Colter Bay. I heard they got nice beaches there…and not to many infected last time Tommy did a supply run.”

EZRA

“I’m afraid it has been many years since I have entered the water Birdie - I may not be much help but I can certainly try.”

OBERYN 

He would hold onto you’re waist, enough to allow you to get the general movement down. Then he would let go and catch you before you slip under the surface again. He would reassure you, telling you that there is no need to get frustrated since you are just starting out. He would give you an endless amount of praise and probably end with you breathless in his arms while he holds you above the waves. 

MARCUS 

He would enlist the help of Missy who is an excellent swimmer. He would have the two of you do little races, where she would often let you win. When he noticed you were getting a little tired he would, take you by the wrists and pull you to where you could reach onto the side and catch you’re breath. 

[uas-fics]

Title: Bonnets and Adoption Forms

Rating:T

Summary: While looking for a charging cord, Tweek comes across adoption forms in Criag's desk--adoption forms with only Craig's information filled out on them.

Ships: Creek

Other: For @creekcrew​‘s creek week.

When I read, I skip over words and I totally just read the prompt as "parents" and not "single parents" but I doubt y'all care about the mistake that much.

—-

Tweek finished the final stitch on the pale blue bonnet. Grinning, he turned in his seat to set the bonnet carefully on Stripe's head. With nimble fingers, he tied the little silver ribbon under Stripe's furry chin. He carefully adjusted the Pioneer dress he'd bought offline early that week.

"Stripe, you look perfect," Tweek told the guinea pig.

Stripe replied by attempting to chew on the ribbon. Tweek tucked the ribbon farther under his chin.

He pursed his lips. Craig would be home in twenty minutes or so from work, but Tweek wasn't sure Stripe could wait that long before taking the bonnet Tweek worked so hard on off his little head.

"Maybe I should take a picture," Tweek muttered under his breath. He reached back for his long-forgotten phone. His whole day off from work he'd spent adjusting the dress since it came a bit too big.

Tweek loved to dress Stripe up in all sorts of costumes: A dinosaur, a cowboy, a princess, an astronaut — seeing his little man dressed-up made Tweek smile every time.

It made Craig smile, too. Which was why he had to see Stripe dressed up as a guinea pig about to embark on a journey along the Oregon Trail to a new land of gold and carrot-treats.

Tweek even dug out his old cowboy hat to wear when he showed Craig. Unfortunately, the hat didn't fit anymore, but he could easily carry Stripe in it. It would be adorable!

Tweek pressed the power button on his phone. It didn't light up. With a frown, he held the button down. The screen flashed once then went dark. Out of power.

Swearing, Tweek stood from the table. Stripe scratched at the bonnet. Picking up the cowboy hat, Tweek deposited Stripe into it. He carried him across the kitchen to the living room. Careful of the precious pet, Tweek groped the ground near the side of the couch for a phone charging cord. With an 'Ah!', he pulled the cord up, only to find it had been chewed in half.

"Stripe, what did we talk about?" Tweek scolded, showing Stripe the frayed wires. "You could have been electrocuted!"

Stripe sniffed the cord then went back to nibbling on the bonnet ribbon. Tweek untied the bonnet and set it down in the hat. He would put it on when he went to take the picture.

"Maybe Craig has one in his office I can use."

Tweek gathered Stripe up. He headed down the hall, past the photos of their life — high school and college graduation, holding each other outside the restaurant the night Tweek proposed, looking dashing and so in love on their wedding, moving boxes into their own house.

Snapshots of the American Dream, as Craig's dad would say before Tweek's own started waxing philosophically about it.

Tweek pushed open the door to Craig's office.

Their house was a bit bigger than just the two of them would ever need, but the deal on it was too good to pass up at the time, thus each of them had their own private rooms to do whatever with. Tweek's held his architecture and modeling tools, along with his sewing supplies; in his, Craig kept a computer and star charts and Red Racer memorabilia.

Tweek paused to admire an animation cell from the second Red Racer movie proudly displayed on the wall. Craig had hugged him so tightly, Tweek was sure his spine would snap when he gave it to him for his birthday two years ago.

Still in the hat, Tweek set Stripe down on the floor before bending to his knees to search through the computer desk drawers. He pulled open the top and found an organized drawer full of office supplies, some of which Tweek was positive Craig didn't use for work. No phone charging cord though.

The next drawer held files in hanging folders. Knowing that the cord couldn't possibly in that drawer, Tweek started to shut it when he noticed some papers peeking through a gap in the files.

Craig liked things organized, Tweek knew, so he pushed the folders aside and reached down. All of the files were labeled, so it would be easy to find where these papers lived in Craig's organizational system.

week held the paper to his face to read it. His heart skipped a beat.

Adoption forms. They were adoption forms. Why would Craig have those?

Tweek fell back to his bottom, flipping through the papers. Half of the blank lines had been filled. All of Craig's information printed with his neat, clear handwriting in black ink doned the paper, but one of Tweek's information. Not even his name.

A cold sweat broke across his skin. The question wasn't only 'why did Craig have these' but also 'why didn't he full out Tweek's information as well?'

They'd talked once or twice about children: if they wanted them, and if they did want them, how would they have them, surrogate or adoption, but those conversations never went much further than 'maybe' and 'a surrogate would be awkward, don't you think?' then Tweek would quickly change the topic.

He knew Craig wanted kids someday, but Tweek wasn't sure himself. The idea of being a father was appealing enough — dropping the youngster off on the first day of kindergarten, soccer games, scouts, making fun of other PTA parents with Craig and showing them all up with his baking skills. As a thought experiment, he liked the idea of parenting but put into practice, there was too much that could go wrong.

What if their child was embarrassed having two dads? What if they threw temper tantrums that Tweek couldn't deal with without breaking down himself? What if he spoiled the child? And when the kid got older and more defiant? How would he handle that? He would ruin a kid for life!

That thought made Tweek's stomach twist.

"Tweek?"

Tweek jumped, swinging his head around. In the doorway, Craig frowned at him.

"I got off early," He explained, stepping and flicking on the light. Tweek blinked the stars from his vision as his husband crouched next to him. "Honey? What's wrong. You look sick."

Wordless, Tweek held up the forms and pointed. Craig winced.

"Oh. Um, those." Craig whistled nervously. "Those..."

"Craig," Tweek finally found his voice again, "why do you have these? Do you...you're not leaving me are you?"

Craig stared at him, eyes wide, as he processed the question. "Leaving you? Why would I leave you?"

"You only filled out your information! You're going to leave me and find a man who wants to adopt with you, right? Or are you going to raise a kid by yourself?" Tweek shook despite himself. Visions of waking up alone, cooking dinner for one, and being left in this big house with no one else clouded his mind's eye.

Craig pulled him into a hug. "I'm not leaving you." He tapped Tweek's wedding ring. "We had a whole big ceremony about that promise. Remember? Jimmy got drunk and tried to do his off-color stand-up to my grandma, and she smacked him with her purse?"

Tweek forced a smile. "She threw her punch on him as a warning first."

Craig nodded. "And he still kept talking."

The two shared a laugh. As they puttered out into silence. Tweek gripped the papers.

"Um," he started, "so..."

Craig looked away. He breathed a swear and said, "I wasn't going to show you those, but, uh, yeah. I filled those out a month or two ago. It was on a whim." He shrugged in a way Tweek knew he was lying. "I thought it would be good practice in case we ever did — "

"Craig do you really want to have a baby — err, a child — right now in our lives?" Tweek cut in.

Craig took a breath and met his eyes. "Yeah. I would." He put his hands on Tweek's shoulders and squeezed with a smile. "We would make the best dads in the world. We'd raise a smart and practical kid, babe."

"Or an impulsive and aloof one," Tweek muttered. Louder, he continued, "I don't think I would make a good dad. You would, but would they even let someone like me have a child?" He tapped his temple.

"Having an anxiety disorder doesn't make you a bad parent." Craig rolled his eyes. "If anything, it would make you a better one. Our child would never get hurt since you would have them in a life vest and pool floaties all the time."

Tweek snorted. "And you'd have to go to school every other day since they flipped off their teacher."

"I flipped off the teacher all the time, and I turned out just fine."

"Yeah, right!"

The two laughed again. Tweek pressed against his side, holding the papers up.

"Do you really think I'd be a good dad? If I knew that I would be, I don't think I'd mind having a kid with you."

Craig wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

Before he could speak, Tweek heard a chewing sound. With a gasp, he twisted around to find Stripe had crawled out of the cowboy hat and found a computer wire to nibble on.

He snatched Stripe up, scolding him, before setting him in Craig's lap. Craig  'aaah'-ed at Stripe's dress.

"He has a bonnet too," Tweek told him, but made no move to retrieve the bonnet from the hat.

Craig chuckled, shaking his head.

"And you really think you wouldn't be a good dad?" He held up Stripe to tap his nose against Tweek's. "You're amazing with our fur son."

Tweek shrugged. "He's a pet. It's different with a human kid. I could really mess up. They could end up hating me."

"No one could hate you," Craig muttered into his hair. Tweek hummed, unsure.

As they sat there, he thought again about the idea of being a parent. He thought about helping with homework and braiding hair before school. He imagined camping trips in the back yard and hot cocoa with star-shaped marshmallows after making mid-winter snow angles. Even the temper tantrums and fights over the car he envisioned suddenly didn't seem so bad.

It wasn't like he would be alone. He wasn't going to be a single parent. He'd have Craig and Craig would have him. They'd fill out what the other lacked like they always did.

Tweek looped his arm around Craig's waist and kissed under his ear.

With a smile, Tweek offered, "If you give me a pen, I'll help you fill out my half of the form."

---

[peachhoneii]

A Lesson in Dabbling

A/N: It’s gonna be May in less than a week!

The boys learn a lesson about the differences in duck biology. Unfortunately for Donald, it’s a bit more life threatening than he would like.

Louie did not like the communal pool. It was loud, rowdy, and there were too many people drifting in the waves their accumulated body masses created. He could have joined them. The waves were inviting in a way, but he kicked his feet idly in the waters seated on the edge of the pool. He stared ahead behind a pair of sunglasses as children splashed and swam.

Huey doggy paddled using his JW swimming float. Dewey was in the middle of an intense game of Marco Polo with their friends from school.

“Marco!”

“Polo!”

“Gilligan, you’re supposed to keep your eyes closed!”

“Look, last time I kept my eyes closed I ran into a pig’s hairy back.” He shot back at Jordan, whose shell swam circles around them, “And seriously, dude? You know I can’t catch you.”

Louie preferred to stay on land when they visited the communal pool. He counted down the minutes. At three he planned to visit the concession stand to buy a hamburger, soda, and fries. Uncle Donald sent them off with enough money for each, and it was his job to watch the money.

He patted his swim trunks pocket.

Gilligan threw his hands up in the air, giving up the chase. Dewey swam to the edge, gasping for breath, and grinned at him, “You’re staying on shore again?”

“The communal tub is a giant bath tub, and I want no part of it.”

“So, that’s why you’ve got your feet in there,” Jordan shouted for a second before diving again. He watched as his shell disappeared among the people.

“I do that for Uncle Donald.” He curled his bill in disgust, “He wants to make sure we had fun, and this is as much fun as I’m gonna get until we go to the water park.”

The water park was directly across the communal pool, and cleaner.

Dewey shrugged and readied to return to his friends. Turning his head, his face scrunched in confusion, “Gilligan, what are you doing, man?”

Louie shifted his view to where Dewey stared and asked the same question. The upper half of Gilligan’s body was submerged in water with his feet sticking high in the air. It would have been a funny sight to laugh at if he hadn’t remained completely still. His webbed feet didn’t twitch. His knees didn’t knob. There wasn’t a single trace of strain in his form. He went up and down, a consequence of the constant waves, but other than that, he was perfectly motionless.

“Gilligan? You okay, dude?”

Huey paddled towards him, “Gilligan?” He poked his bent knee experimentally, “We need to get him upright.”

“No, you don’t.” Jordan emerged from the waters, “He does this.”

They were about to ask what that meant when Gilligan suddenly jerked and sunk into the waters. He appeared right after, gasping loudly. His coarse, curly green feathers were weighed down with water. His gasp left his lips and was replaced with a sharp giggle, then a cackling laugh. He hooted, swishing water in every direction.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie stared in bewilderment.

“Yeah, man, that hit the spot!” He floated on his back, “I love doing that! You know how hard it is to get that thrill in the bathtub?”

“What was that?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Can I do it too?”

Louie didn’t fall into the pool but leaned forward, eyes wide. He had never seen anything like that before. Gilligan stared back at them in confusion, glancing worriedly at Jordan who shrugged.

“I don’t know.” He admitted while he pushed his legs back and forth, “I’ve always done it. It feels good, but I can’t do it in the tub like this.”

“In the tub?”

“Yeah, you know when you hold your breath and dive under the water? It’s kind of like that. I feel…light…fuzzy…like I want to keep going until I reach something, but I know whatever it is isn’t there. Something like that.”

The boys glanced at each other and returned to Gilligan.

It was Dewey that broke their circle silence, “Guys, we gotta try that.”

Huey refused. He told them not to. The pitched slither in his tone stopped them from Dewey’s initial attempt, “We should find out more about what he did before trying,” and that pacified Dewey for the time being.

At three, Louie bought their lunch. They played in the pool. They went to the water park across the street, and when they returned home, they bathed and settled into their beds. Louie knew what to expect the next morning and fell asleep easily, glad he didn’t fall in the pool again.

“It’s something other ducks can do.” Huey was perched on the top bunk. He read in a clear, quiet voice that resonated in their small room; the JWG was held firmly in his hands, “Anas is a genus of dabbling ducks where the duck dives into shallow water in search of food.”

“You’re telling me they used to eat like that?”

“Kind of yeah.” Huey closed the book, “It appears they did it to eat aquatic plant life and insects in the water. As ducks evolved, their minds and bodies adapted to the change.”

“So why did Gilligan do it?”

“An instinctive nature designated for his species.” Huey’s expression turned thoughtful, “What is he anyways?”

“His mom is a black duck.” Louie turned over under the covers, “I saw her at the bake sale. Her peach cobbler is to die for.”

“And his dad?”

Dewey tapped his bill, “I think he’s a mallard. I saw him with Gilly after school a few weeks ago.”

“That seems to answer it.” He closed the book with finality, “Now, let’s have breakfast. I think Uncle Donald is making pancakes.”

“But wait,” Dewey grabbed his sleeve, “what about us? Can’t we do it?”

“Sorry, American Pekin Ducks aren’t a part of the Anas genus. We’re from a domesticated line.”

Louie rolled out of bed and rubbed his eyes. He watched Huey go down the hall and enter the kitchen. Dewey stood there with a frown on his face.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, bud.” He patted his back on his way out, “Not everyone can dabble, and besides, it’s a lost art. I doubt even Gilligan can do it perfectly.”

He went to the kitchen to eat pancakes, which Uncle Donald had made for the morning, leaving Dewey behind to ponder over his words in their bedroom.

Louie would see in hindsight that it was thoughtless of him to leave Dewey with that dangling sentence.

Uncle Donald was down for a nap. He was permitted to take naps every now and then when they boys were at school, and this continued when summer vacation was well under way. Huey was writing a report for the JW. Louie was watching Wisney afternoon cartoons in the living room. He was alone, or as alone as he could be.

He knew where Uncle Donald kept the water wear. The life jackets, the floaties, and the swim rings were stored in a cramped, little closet in the hallway. It didn’t take much to wiggle it through and put some air in it. He didn’t hurry outside, choosing to walk casually with the inflated ring under his arm. Louie didn’t stir from the television screen. Huey didn’t look up from his paper.

The deck was freshly washed and sparkled as a result. A seagull hadn’t left a dropping yet, the air was humid, and the water below looked inviting. He went to the railing and stared below. Calm waters. Good. It didn’t make sense for an attempt during stormy weather. He would have tried in the tub, but the tub was too small. Huey had made such a fuss about the pool that he didn’t even get a chance.

He wore his swimming trunks, wiggled the swimming ring around him, and stepped off the houseboat to go around into the water.

It was a cool like warm. He floated comfortably on side of the houseboat. All he needed to do was to turn his body over, and capture the feeling Gilligan had felt on that day.

“Where’s Dewey?”

Louie bit into his sandwich and shrugged, “Isn’t he in our room?”

“He isn’t in our room. I was in my room writing my paper for JWG. It’s about the ramifications of Roman -,”

“I think I saw him with a swimming ring a few minutes ago.”

“Why would he have a swimming ring?”

“I dunno.”

Huey blinked, went outside, and Louie heard a strangled cry that forced him from the comfort of the living room and his half-eaten tomato, ham, sliced cheese, and lettuce sandwich.

Huey stood at the railing staring down at the water. Louie followed suit and snorted, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He dived in, tried to get into position, and sunk. He dived in, tried to get into position, and sunk. It was an uncomfortable, constant loop of Dewey repeating the attempt. He didn’t possess Gilligan’s odd grace. His knees knobbed and feet trembled. His body swayed back and forth in the still waters.

“What are you doing?” Huey shouted, “Get back up here before you drown!”

Dewey splashed up, “I’ma dabble! I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“No, dude. You like a dying fish on land.”

“You sound like a dying seal. Get back up here.”

He resurfaced, “Not until I dabble!”

Louie and Huey shared an uneasy stare. He would not get out of the water. He absolutely refused, and the chances of his drowning increased dramatically. He splashed, bubbled, floated about without any grace. His arms lost their strength, and he grabbed the swimming ring.

“Wanna come up?”

“No, not really.” He dove again.

“Boys?” Came Uncle Donald’s voice from the house boat, “I swear if Louie’s gotten his head stuck again the -,” he stopped behind them, “what’s going on?”

Huey and Louie froze, spinning around with stiff smiles.

“He’s taking a bath.”

“He is definitely not in the water outside the houseboat!”

Louie paused and turned his head slowly with a glare imprinted in his eyes.

Donald didn’t think twice, “He’s what in the what!?” He pushed them aside and looked down below, “Dewey!”

There wasn’t time to explain what was going on, or why it was happening in the first place. Dewey hadn’t returned to the surface yet, and Donald jumped into the water, diving right beside the swimming ring. They held their breath over the railing, watching and waiting for their uncle and brother to emerged through the waters, but rings of bubbles came to pop instead over the rippling water.

“We should do something,” Huey whispered.

“What are we gonna do!?”

“Call the ambulance.”

He ran back to get the phone when the water started to break. Uncle Donald parted the surrounding water in a great circle, clutching Dewey to his chest. He swam with one arm back to the harbor, pushing Dewey’s body first onto the pavement. Dewey rolled on his side, His little body shook and heaved, and he clutched his side as seawater streamed out of his bill like a river. Uncle Donald gasped, spat water out, and dropped on his knees, crawling to him.

“Dewey, Dewey speak to me!”

“I hear you.” He wheezed, “I hear you loud and clear.”

“Oh, my sweet baby!” Suddenly, he was pulled to his chest. Uncle Donald peppered him with kisses, over his face and head, and with another jerk, he was pulled away from his chest, “What were you thinking!?”

Louie and Huey grimaced from a safe distance.

“Uh...I was…”

“Don’t you know how dangerous that was!? You could’ve drowned!”

Anger born from worry was the worst, but Dewey had no time to think about that.

Dewey grinned sheepishly, “I was trying to dabble.”

“Dabble?” Uncle Donald searched his face for any sign of lies, “You mean dabble, dabble like ducks do?”

“Yeah, I saw Gilligan -,”

“We’re not that kind of duck!” He shook him viciously, “We don’t dabble!”

“Then what kind of ducks are we!?”

“American Pekin!” Uncle Donald jerked him back into his chest, caressing his head as he crooned quietly, “My poor, sweet, dumb child, we’re American Pekin. We don’t dabble.”

“A lot of folks don’t dabble, Dewey.” Louie said from his spot on the houseboat, “Are we in trouble?”

Donald released Dewey, staring at him wearily. His nap was spent and used to its fullest extent, but he appeared as tired as if he had returned from a late night shift, “Go back in side and dry off, Dewey, you too.”

“But am I grounded?”

“I don’t know.” He contemplated aloud, “There’s a lot we haven’t discussed about biology, and I shouldn’t have skimmed that with you boys.”

“So…”

“It was still a ridiculously stupid thing to do.” He fell on his bottom, wiping his forehead, “But it isn’t the worst thing you’ve done, go inside and get ready for dinner. I’ll start it up soon.”

“What about my swimming ring?”

Donald glared.

“Fair enough.” He hurried up the ramp, “Will be dry and clean by time you get inside.” His brothers followed quietly behind him, relieved their brother was safe and even more relieved they weren’t in trouble with him.

Donald watched them disappear into the houseboat. Red, blue, and green, such wonderfully troublesome colors. He scratched the back of his head and rolled forward, “Don’t forget it’s preening night!”

Their collective groans made him grin.

[rebels-ptau]

Does the family ever go to the pool? If so, what does everyone do?

(Ezra)Oh boy, the neighborhood pool. Source of summer fun, fifteen different forms of teenage embarrassment, and one attempted homicide. 

So there’s the community pool on top of the 1-in-3 people has a private pool. It’s huge, and usually packed. It’s staggered, with a shallow end full of girls that don’t want mess up their hair, moms, and kids of varying skill and volume of floaties. The deep end is mostly empty but for people sitting and hanging off the sides gossiping and catcalling each other doing tricks off the diving board. There’s a roped off section that’s allegedly for laps but it tends to be overrun and turned into the Dad Zone. Speaking of “Dad Zone”, Caleb fucking thrives at the pool in an embarrassment capacity. He has fully embraced the persona of (Literally) Fashion Blind Dad. See, he doesn’t like to take his shirt off in public, between the tattoos and the bullet holes, so he goes all out. Open horrible Hawaiian shirt over a wifebeater and board-shorts with a different, clashing, horrible Hawaiian pattern and flip-flops. The shades are necessary but does he really need to do the zinc oxide on the nose thing? Really? Luckily he constrains himself to the DadZone and whatever sportsball event is happening this week. I don’t think he actually knows anything about sportsball or even particularly cares about any of the teams but he knows enough of the lingo to sound like he does, and therefore maintains an elaborate charade of playing the various dads against each other, which is apparently a sport in and of itself.��

Hera thinks its adorable, but she spends most of the time reading anyway, and trying to keep Chopper out of the pool. He vents his spleen by sitting on the edge and snapping at water splashed at him, and occasionally at my- or Sabine’s heels in hopes we’ll startle and fall in. 

The homicide part was a couple weeks ago, one of the Neighborhood Get-Together potluck things that are mostly an excuse to outdo each other in the culinary arts. Sabine and I were halfway through a slab of smoked, baked and basted pork ribs when the Organas showed up, with Leia in this gold and brown bikini and a gauzy wrap thing and looking like a million bucks. Unsurprisingly and understandably, Sabine tried to crawl under the table, but I’m an idiot and couldn’t resist leaning down and teasing her.

“Aw, what’s the matter? BBQ pig-out face going to hurt your chances of becoming First Lesbian Lady?” The murderglare from that first line should have been enough to stop me, but no, I had to add, “I think President Organa-Wren has a better ring to it than President Wren-Organa, honestly.”Thus sealing my fate by revealing that I’d read her diary, since that argument with herself and several calligraphic versions of both was on page 42-4. Like I said, I’m an idiot. She flying-tackled me into the pool from under the table and very nearly succeeded in drowning me. Chopper was the only one that bothered to intervene. Even then it was probably because he wanted my rib bones for being a hero. 

[un-enfant-immature]

What will a Wish IPO look like? Seems we’ll find out sooner than later

Wish, the San Francisco-based, 750-person e-commerce app that sells deeply discounted goods that you definitely don’t need but might buy anyway when priced so low — think pool floaties, guinea pig harnesses, Apple Watch knockoffs — said yesterday that it has submitted a draft registration to the SEC for an IPO.

Because it filed confidentially, we can’t get a look at its financials just yet; we only know that its investors, who’ve provided the company with $1.6 billion across the years, think the company was worth $11.2 billion as of last summer, when it closed its most recent financing (a $300 million Series H round). Meanwhile, Wish itself says it has more than 70 million active users across more than 100 countries and 40 languages.

The big question, of course, is whether the now 10-year-old company can maintain or even accelerate its momentum. It’s not a no-brainer. On the one hand, it’s a victim of the increasingly chilly relations between the U.S. and China, from where the bulk of Wish’s goods come. Then again, Wish has been beefing up its business elsewhere in the world partly as a result of the countries’ shifting stance toward one another. For example, it told Recode last year that it’s increasingly looking to Latin American markets — Mexico, Argentina, Chile — for growth, and that it’s planning a bigger push into Africa, where it’s already available in South Africa, Ghana, and Nigeria, among other countries.

But let’s back up a minute first. If you don’t know, Wish was cofounded by CEO Peter Szulscewski, a computer scientist by training, who previously spent 6.5 years at Google before cofounding a company call ContextLogic, from which Wish evolved. The idea was to build a next-generation, mobile ad network to compete with Google’s AdSense network, but Szulscewski and his cofounder, Danny Zhang, realized they were “pretty bad at business development,” as he once said at an event hosted by this editor, so eventually they pivoted to Wish.

Wish began as an app that asked people to create wish lists, then the company approached merchants, letting them know a certain number of customers wanted, say, a certain type of table. It was smart to recognize that showing the right recommendations to shoppers would become critical to its users, though it didn’t necessarily foresee the types of merchants it would ultimately work with, most of them in China, Indonesia and elsewhere in East Asia and Southeast Asia who are focused on value-conscious customers and who, at the time, didn’t have other ways to sell to or communicate with customers elsewhere in the world (so didn’t mind paying Wish a 15% take to handle this for them).

Wish also quickly focused around lightweight items that it could ship cheaply from China, if slowly, using something called ePacket. It’s a shipping option agreement that established nine years ago with the cooperation of the US Postal Service and Hong Kong Post (and later made available to 40 countries altogether) that enables products coming from China and Hong Kong to be sent cheaply as long as they meet certain criteria — they don’t weigh too much, they aren’t worth too much, they adhere to certain minimum and maximums regarding their size, and so forth.

The mix has proved powerful for Wish, despite growing competition from China-based outfits like AliExpress that offer many of the same goods to the same customers around the world. (Wish has also competed, always, with Walmart and Amazon.)

The company has also soldiered on despite apparent struggles to keep customers coming over time, too. Because it doesn’t sell essential items but rather a grab bag of different items, people tend to cycle out of the app after a few months of their first visit, as The Information once reported.

A bigger issue now is that, as of two months ago, a new USPS pricing structure went into effect that raises rates on international shipments. It also requires foreign recipient countries to ratify new rates under ePacket (whose recipient countries, by the way, have been downsized from 40 to 12). That means that companies like Wish either pay more to ship their goods — forcing its vendors to charge more — or they move to commercial networks.

Of course, a third option — and one that may position Wish well for the future — would be for Wish to invest in more local warehousing in the U.S, Europe and others of its growing markets, which it told Recode that it is doing, along with seeking out more local vendors near its biggest markets.

Given shifts in the way that commercial real estate is being used — with retail-to-industrial property conversions accelerating, driven by the growth of e-commerce  — it’s probably as good a time as any for Wish to be making these moves. Whether they are enough to sustain and grow the company is something that only time will tell.

Again, we’ll collectively know much more when we can get a look at that filing. It should make for interesting reading.

Wish’s private investors include General Atlantic, GGV Capital, Founders Fund, Formation 8, Temasek Holdings and DST Global, among others.

[sunsetpools]

10 Fun Pool Games for Kids

Enjoying quality pool time with your children can create memories that last a lifetime! Pool games are also a great way to get in some exercise. Here are a few ideas to make pool time more of a "summer splash" for everyone! 

Beach Ball Race: Using large beach balls, see who can push theirs to the other side of the pool first. If they are older children, buy a couple of watermelons to use and then enjoy the melons after the game!

Ping-Pong Madness: Throw several ping-pong balls into the pool and have the kids collect them, whoever collects the most = winner!

Marco Polo: What's a pool game without Marco Polo? But switch it up by using animals - such as have the kids yell "Dolphin, Horse, Pig, etc., and the rest answering back with their best impression!

Shark & Minnows: One child is the shark and stands in the middle of the pool. The rest of the kids are the minnows. When the shark says "Go" the minnows jump in the pool and try to get past the shark without getting tagged. The children that get tagged are out until eventually you only have one child versus the shark.

Chicken Fight: This works best with older children who can hold another child's body weight on their shoulders (or have an adult holding the child on their shoulders).

Coins on the Bottom: Toss a bunch of change into the pool and the children collect the coins from the bottom of the pool - like diving for treasure!

Floatie Race: Similar to the Beach Ball Race, this one involves any pool toy you can get your hands on - tubes, loungers, pool noodles, inflatable ducks or dolphins, etc., the more ridiculous the better! The fun is seeing who can get across the pool with their ridiculous toy first!  

Air Ball: The goal of Air Ball is to keep a beach ball in the air and not let it touch the water.

Quick Jump Quiz: One person is the Quiz Master and the rest of the kids line up at the end of the pool. One by one, the kids will take a few steps and then jump into the pool. As they are jumping, they answer the question. This can be math/spelling/school work questions or any silly questions you want to ask.

What Time is it, Mr. Fox: One person is Mr. Fox and stands at the end of the pool. The other kids stand at the other end of the pool and yell together "What time is it, Mr. Fox" Mr. Fox picks a time and the other kids need to move forward that number of steps (5:00 is 5 steps, etc).

As always, practice pool safety and if the children are not tall enough to use the deep end of the pool make any modifications to the games! 

Source: ActiveKids.com 

[sierraobrian-blog]

Summer of my life

Kids smiling, jumping in the pool, playing in the sand, eating popsicles, swimming without a floatie for the first time, cooking on the grill, having a frozen beverage by the water. These images will flood your Facebook or Instagram feed ALL. SUMMER. LONG. Here’s what you don’t see. The mom who took the picture hasn’t showered in 3 days. She hasn’t worn makeup in much, much longer. She broke up 4 fights already today. Her toddler threw a tantrum because she asked for a banana. But when the banana was delivered to the very spot she requested so she could see the TV while watching Peppa Pig (for waaay longer than she should have been allowed), the banana was, GASP, cut into pieces. She wanted the banana BIG WITH THE PEEL ON BUT JUST STARTED A LITTLE SO SHE COULD PEEL THE REST HERSELF. Her oldest has asked what the plans are for the day for the 137th time. And honestly, there are no plans for the day. There are no plans because there are many, many, many clothes to wash. And a dishwasher to empty because it was run 4 days ago. EVERY bedroom looks like a pack of wild hyenas ran threw it. There are toys in every damn corner and there are dress up clothes in the bathroom, which have left a trail of glitter down the hallway and even on the toilet (don’t even want to know what happened there). But by the 138th “what are we doing today”, Mom just can’t take one more f*cking second. So guess what, kids? We are heading to the pool! That helps. For about 46 minutes. 21 of which were spent putting sunscreen on each child and blowing up flotation devices. But somewhere in those 46 minutes, Mom succeeded in taking a picture in which NO child is crying, whining, or fighting. As a matter of fact, they even look…happy. Post that sh*t to Instagram, baby. Then if she is lucky, by the 47th minute the children are requesting a snack and she can snap another picture to share of them eating popsicles by the sparkling blue pool water and it looks so peaceful that everyone, even Mom, buys it. Plus Mom is still in shock that the kids went 47 minutes without asking for a snack. That’s a success right there. Have to stop and celebrate the small stuff, right? All of a sudden it’s late afternoon and everyone wants more snacks. Mom doesn’t know what to make for dinner. Or if the kids will even eat the damn dinner because SNACKS. Everyone needs showers or baths now because they lathered up in sunscreen for the 46 minute pool escapade. They don’t want showers, especially the youngest, so she needs to be carried in and refuses to cooperate for the entire duration of the shower. The bathroom window is open a bit and the entire neighborhood has most likely heard just how uncooperative she has been. Finally, somehow all children are clean and in pajamas. Then the snack requests begin AGAIN. Mom whips up some homemade milkshakes and for a few moments of bliss, all kids are happy and maybe Mom can grab her phone and snap a another quick pic as evidence of his momentous occasion. If she’s lucky, the kids will fall asleep by 10 pm and Mom can finally relax. She will sit down to her favorite show and maybe even post about it on Facebook to let people know that she still watches programs that aren’t on Nick Jr. However, approximately 8 minutes into the show, Mom is asleep on the sofa. Her moments of freedom slip away as she wastes them on something as boring as sleep. She will wake up and do it all again the next day. Her summer is AH-MAZ-ING, dammit. And she has the pics on social media to prove it.

[magnusalec]

I'd love to hear some of your malec headcanons! (preferably not heartbreaking this time lol)

okay okay here’s a happy one

alec accidentally shrinks one of magnus’ shirts in the wash. magnus isn’t upset, but he decides to toy with alec a little bit because he tried to hide it from him.

when alec goes to get cereal one morning, he opens the carton only to have it moo at him. he drops the milk in surprise, and looks over at magnus who shrugs. “please can i just have a bowl of cereal?” alec begs, and magnus goes “what’s stopping you?” and walks away with a smile.

there’s a statue of an angel in the living room. magnus enchants it to move a cm whenever alec looks away from it. one day magnus walks into the room to find alec in an intense staring battle with the statue. “the statue is moving, magnus. like that mundane show you made me watch, with the doctor in the flying box.’ magnus doesn’t give himself away, just says “statues don’t move, alexander.” and walks out of the room with a grin on his face.

alec makes bacon one morning, and swears on all the angels that he can hear the faint oinking of pigs as he does. he doesn’t tell magnus about that one.

alec can’t find his other boot. every time he goes into a room, magnus magics it into another one. alec thinks chairman hid it.

it all comes to a head when magnus “accidentally” portals them into a pool in miami (an empty one, with no mundanes around thank god). alec comes up for air spitting out water, still in his clothes. magnus is wearing a bathing suit and sitting on a pool floaty. “why?” alec demands. magnus sips his cocktail, tilts down his sunglasses and says “next time, just tell me about the shirt.”