#running away mid transaction

[dio-the-thot-exterminator]

parents will literally let their kids do whatever they want to the EXPENSIVE things we sell in our store and then have the nerve to giggle n smile acting like its cute... you just handed me something drenched in random baby juices and now I have to handle the rest of your things AND the items of everyone behind you. Disgusting.

[arsenalgbt]

Part 2/2: sorry this is so long.

Kieran thought about standing him up, he’d not meant to say yes to Leo. KT didn’t want to get distracted from trying to get his degree, he needed it to make his dad proud. His dad who’d given up so much to raise him and get him there. Hector told Kieran that he doesn’t have to date the guy, but that he defiantly needed an orgasm or three to centre himself again. Kieran went on the date and him and Leo kept talking and talking until they got kicked out of the restaurant. They walked back to Leo’s place in comfortable silence and Leo kissed Kieran goodnight before going inside. Kieran liked that Leo was taking things slow, Leo couldn’t figure out what he was doing. He wanted to fuck Kieran, not share some virginal kiss with him. This continued for weeks, Leo kissing Kieran goodnight and then leaving and when Kieran asked if they were a proper couple, Leo said they were. Leo hadn’t told anyone about Kieran, but he supposed he should now that he apparently had a boyfriend. Kieran had told Hector nearly every single detail, Kieran didn’t know how to do relationships and defiantly didn’t know how to do them with rich lads like Leo who decided to invite KT to a party to meet Ben and Dec. Neither of them expected KT to be introduced as Leo’s boyfriend and Dec made some comment about how KT should enjoy him while he can which led to KT learning that Leo’s parents would likely already have someone set up for him to marry. Kieran leaves, annoyed at Leo for leading him on, annoyed at himself for thinking he belonged with these lads who view marriage as a business transaction, annoyed at himself for thinking Leo would stay. KT’s own mother didn’t want to stay with him, why would Leo whose clearly better then him?

Leo hears what Dec said and runs after KT, they end up having a conversation that feels more like an argument than either are willing to admit,  and Leo learns that KT is terrified of being left so he promises not to leave him. KT tells him not to make promises he can’t keep, and Leo kisses him in response. Leo doesn’t know what he’s doing, his parents would not approve but Leo wants KT, he wants to be with KT and he wants to see what life is like when he’s allowed make choices for himself. Leo promises not to leave and KT promises to do the same (even when he gets upset and scared, he has to talk to Leo and not run from parties because Dec’s an idiot). That’s the first night they have sex and for the next three years, KT and Leo are love’s young dream. Leo has met Kieran’s dad and his friends from back home (a majority of whom Ben does sleep with)  and Kieran is basically living with the three of them (and being tutored by both Leo and Dec because uni is hard but he’s almost there!) but he’s not told his parents yet. Leo is scared of what will happen if he's forced to choose between his parents and KT. Leo doesn’t know what life is like without his parents but he certainly doesn’t want to live a life without Kieran. Leo is two and a half months pregnant when they all return for their final semester of college in mid-January (Kieran had looked really good on Halloween) and he knows Kieran is freaking out about it. They’d taken the test together in Kieran’s dad’s house on Christmas Eve together, they tried to do all the big moments together. Kieran is terrified that Leo will leave, that his parents will make him come home and Kieran will never see the love of his life or their baby again. Kieran thinks he’ll fuck up their kid. Leo plans on staying and when Kieran finally breaks down in Leo’s arms, Leo suggests they elope. Kieran stops crying straight away   because there is no way he heard that right. Leo says they might as well make their promise to stay legally binding and that he loves Kieran enough to view the marriage as more than something that has to be done. Leo knows it’ll make Kieran happy and knows his parents will get on board with KT and the baby if there’s a ring already on his finger (Leo’s parents value tradition  but he knows he can convince them to let go eventually if they see he’s happy). That weekend they pack Dec, Ben and Hector into a car without telling them what’s happening or why they’re in suits and they go get married. When Ben jokingly asks if the reason for the elopement is because Leo’s knocked up, Kieran and Leo don’t deny or confirm and simply say it was one of many reasons.

The first few months of marriage are hard. They’re living with Dec and Ben and Kieran is working and studying and feeling awful for not paying rent now that he’s actually living there. Leo says he doesn’t have to pay and they argue when Leo asks why KT never tried to pay when he was basically there all the time. Leo is a high maintenance pregnant person because he’s stressed out about college and having a baby and telling his parents and he fights with Kieran about all of this. They can’t agree on where they’ll live after they finish (London? Scotland? Belgium?) Kieran says they need a flat that he can pay for half of because he’s not going to be a trophy husband, Leo thinks this is ridiculous. Leo accuses KT of sleeping with Hector when he thinks the pair are hiding something (Kieran was trying to plan a baby moon and had asked Hector for help), the surprise is soured by Leo’s accusation and the fight that follows. Leo eventually tells his parents about the baby and his husband and they react by saying they are disappointed with him, Leo lashes out at Kieran as a result. They make it hard for each other to stay but they stay. They love each other and they promised they’d stay. Things eventually start getting easier. Birthing classes ease Leo’s stress, Kieran finds ways to contribute to the house that make things better (how Leo never knew Kieran was good at fixing things before marrying him is still a mystery). They graduate with no idea of what’s next and Leo is just so thankful he didn’t go into labour at the ceremony. He almost passes out when his parents come up to him, he’d invited them to the ceremony but didn’t think they’d show up. They ask to meet Kieran and Leo just nods wordlessly and brings them to where his husband and father in law are taking photos with each other. Kieran says it’s nice to meet them in person which confuses Leo until his mother mentions Kieran had called and essentially gave them shit for abandoning their son just because he chose to be happy and loved. Kieran wasn’t going to let Leo be abandoned like he had.

Leo’s father tells Leo he wants him to take over the London branch as soon as he’s back from maternity leave. Leo says he needs  to talk to his husband about it first to which KT responds by almost passing out because is Leo insane? Obviously he should take the job! They leave their parents and go for a walk around campus in the same comfortable silence they experienced on their first date until they are away from the crowds. Leo asks Kieran what he should do and Kieran tells him he should stay, that London is their home and that he wants it to remain that way for awhile. Kieran wants to find a job, wants to find a flat that he can pay half for, wants to raise his baby in London among the family they’ve created with Ben and Dec. He wants their in-laws to be in different countries and for Hector to fly in and out of their child’s life when he visits London from Spain with way too many gifts. Leo wants the life Kieran is proposing and they make it happen. Kieran declines the offer to work for Leo’s parents (and Dec’s parents when Dec makes them offer) because he wants to make it on his own merit, wants to succeed beside his husband not because of him. They’ll figure everything out and eventually they do  through the ups and the downs. They find a flat, Kieran gets a job, they figure out parenthood with their first child and they disagree and fight and make up and laugh and help one another. They stay. They always stay.

I need approximately 48 hours to respond in an orderly manner..................... trust I will be back when I'm more coherent ASHHDFASDFHJJHAHBHVBDFGVKHGDHGJ

[finderedacted]

i have no idea what the convention is for posting fanfiction on this website is, but i've decided to share something i'm working on (something i can't get out of my head) here before it ends up on AO3. i'd love to hear what people think.

WIP - proofread but may have some consistency errors for now

working title: Usually (part 1 of ?)

rating: Mature content includes: descriptions of violence, references to trauma and abuse, references to sex, mentions of blood (typical of BG3), BG3 spoilers word-count (this part): 2,451 words summary: this is what happens when Astarion and Caorann break from their routines of fucking and feeding sometimes and start having feelings - it's difficult.

context notes: i'm writing this to explore the dynamic of Astarion and my character from my first full-release BG3 playthourgh. Caorann /kɯːrəN/ ("koo-run") is a goody two-shoes half-elf druid who finds themselves having to become shrewder and meaner to survive and deal with the tadpole and the Absolute while balancing that with their moral compass. i specifically built them to look a bit more mature, thank you to the maturity slider in BG3 character creation. imagine a green-haired light-skinned non-binary person who looks like they're in their mid-late thirties, with a messy ponytail and kind but weary eyes, and you have what you need.

below the cut are the first two parts of whatever this is becoming.

---

Usually, when Astarion is done with his night-time feed on Caorann, he doesn’t linger. He is an imperfect gentleman – he stays to clean the wounds on Caorann’s neck, and to make sure they’re not suffering too much from the now-routine blood loss. But he usually leaves quickly afterwards, creeping into the night to seek a more filling quarry.

There’s usually a set routine. Caorann lets Astarion know he can feed on them tonight, and then he comes to them quietly in the night after everyone else in the camp is fast asleep. Caorann lies down and makes themselves comfortable, Astarion bites their neck and drinks just enough, and the transaction is complete with little fuss.

Usually.

Tonight should be no different. After the bite and the ceremonial clean-up, Caorann is doing their customary final checks on the neck wound, assuming Astarion has already disappeared into the darkness for his meal; they’re sleepy and off-guard so it’s perhaps a moment longer than they’d like before they realise they’re being watched.

Caorann stiffens, then turns to look upwards to find Astarion still nearby, lingering a few metres away and watching Caorann with narrowed eyes.

Astarion flinches when Caorann blinks at him, then blusters, “Ah, sorry, I should--”

He turns away, then turns back, then huffs when he sees Caorann still tensed and staring at him. He spits, “What are you looking at, druid?”

Caorann blinks again. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I started it,” they reply, at which Astarion huffs again. “Did you want something? You don’t normally stick around this long.”

Astarion puts a hand on his hips, the pose of a petulant child who refuses to believe they’ve been caught.

Caorann sighs. “What, Astarion?”

Astarion frowns; it’s like he’s fighting himself, muscles coiled not in preparation for a kill but as if he’s trying to stop himself from lashing out. Suddenly, Caorann’s tadpole throbs; they can feel the edges of Astarion’s consciousness as he struggles with something that feels like a question that he hates. Astarion knows Caorann’s there, too; he tries to hide from them, and in that moment Caorann hates the tadpole for how easy it makes it to overstep and overstay – hates the control the tadpole has and the control it offers. Caorann balks and backs away from the tadpole’s prying instincts, but not without a struggle. “Gods, sorry. It’s still so hard to stop it before it starts.”

Astarion grimaces, but then waves a nonchalant hand. “Don’t mention it. Look, why don’t I--” “I mean, you don’t normally stick around after you feed, and it seems like there’s something on your mind. Are you okay?”

Astarion huffs again but this time his muscles relax too. “Ugh-- you damned-- fine.” He pauses, then crosses his arms.

Caorann stands up and takes a step towards him. “So,” they say gently. “What is it?” Astarion screws his face up and then after so much hesitation it suddenly tumbles out, a sharp hiss that would definitely be a shout if he weren’t worried about waking up the rest of camp, and he’s jabbing a finger at Caorann as he stage-whispers, “I just don’t get you! At all!”

Caorann is startled at the jabbing finger but also bemused. They give a lopsided smile – Astarion looks so offended by that but he’ll cope, Caorann is sure. “What do you mean?”

“I-- just-- why in the Hells are you so kind to everyone? All the time?!” Astarion’s arms are all theatrics and big, exasperated gestures as he continues, “You agreed to help those tieflings, you tried to rescue some silly dog, you insisted on helping that brat who was caught up with the harpies, and sure I get all that, you’re a goody two-shoes druid and your whole job is being nice to innocents or whatever the Oak Daddy taught you, but--” – he pauses to breathe after the first act of this tirade, then puts both his hands on his hips and glares at you for act two – “but why would you be so kind to me? Do you have no sense of self-preservation? Do you not realise how stupid this is? Why would it be good to help someone as--”

Astarion chokes abruptly and draws back – Caorann doesn’t need the tadpole to know that Astarion’s suddenly scared of going too far, of whatever is under his mask suddenly rearing its ugliness into view and right in front of some silly grass-munching druid he barely knows. There’s something he doesn’t want to say, but maybe he does want to say it, maybe he needs to say it, but not yet, not to this generous shithead, and Caorann couldn’t possibly judge if Astarion should say it now but certainly wants Astarion to be comfortable, at the very least, so Caorann holds out their hand to try and create a sense of calm as Astarion’s eyes widen like a cornered animal’s. “Look,” they say, quietly. “It’s okay.”

Astarion scoffs. “Is it? Is it? I’m a vampire spawn. I’m a monster. I drink your blood most nights and you--” – he jabs his finger right into Caorann’s chest this time, his voice rising – “you let me. You let me! What the Hells is wrong with you?”

The question ripples in the night air while Astarion breathes raggedly, reeling slightly from his explosive speech. Then his expression shifts to something more guarded, more like the mask he wants Caorann to see, though not before Caorann catches a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Caorann lets the question dissipate, lets the night reconfigure into stillness, and lets Astarion’s breath get less ragged. They try to reply carefully, gently. They know a bit about Astarion’s wounds and a bit about the damage wrought upon him by his old master, but they also know not to push. Yet they’re also feeling hazy from the blood loss and tired from yet another long day, so the words aren’t as tidy or slow as they’d want them to be.

“Astarion. I don’t know if I understand where this has come from, but, look, I believe in giving help where I can and sharing the beauty and kindness of nature in my actions. Maybe you don’t expect a druid to stand by a vampire spawn, and yes, there are druids who won’t. But they follow the letter of the law and I… I just can’t anymore, not when I could turn into something outwith our laws any second now.” Caorann pauses, scared of their own babbling. Astarion’s lips are pursed, his eyes strained with skepticism, but so far there is no witty retort, no snarling rebuke, so Caorann swallows and continues.

“And I – well I believe we shouldn’t turn our backs on people when something has happened which isn’t their fault, like what happened to me, right?” Caorann sways slightly, then tries to slow down their speech. “I didn’t ask for the tadpole. Neither did you. And you happen to be a vampire spawn and you need blood. And I can make the choice to help you feed, so that you can be strong and no one else gets hurt. It’s maybe not the ideal we talk about as druids when it comes to nature and balance, but--”

Astarion cuts in, “So it’s pragmatic, sure, fine. But look, you still--” – he stops, and the mask wavers again. His eyes darken and he turns away. “You are trusting someone who is already a monster. Someone who could kill you like it’s nothing, and you’ve let me into your camp and you let me near your neck.”

“Yes, that’s right. Because I believe in having your back,” Caorann replies.

“Well,” Astarion snaps back, “What if you have someone’s back and then they turn around and stab you right in the intestines anyway?”

Caorann sways again, too woozy to feel as threatened as they should be. “Why? Is that your plan?”

“No, I--”

“Astarion, I do like you, you know. It’s not just pragmatism.”

The muscles in Astarion’s shoulders tense. The pause is long but loaded, heavy, and Caorann could swear they feel the gears in Astarion’s mind shift into place.

He turns back to look at Caorann over his shoulder with a pained expression that snaps in a flash into a grin. “Oh, oh. Is this because--”, Astarion’s back straightens as his whisper shifts into his customary bedroom drawl, “– because of that night we spent together? When I wasn’t just busy with your neck?”

Caorann’s brows furrow. “I mean, yeah, that was a very welcome way to let off steam, but it’s not the only reason I--”

Astarion turns fully back to face Caorann. His smirk is full and his eyes are glittering. “I see. Well you know what, this whole conversation was just so unnecessary, wasn’t it? Really I was making a fuss for no reason.”

“Wait—”

“Darling, you need your beauty sleep, and I need my second helping, so why don’t I get going and we can forget about all this?”

“Astarion--!”

“Goodnight, dear little druid. And thanks once again for the meal.”

Then he’s gone, cloaked in the darkness as if he had never even been there.

Caorann sways once again, then crumples onto their bedroll. They exhale slowly, then inhale twice as slowly, letting still earthy air fill their lungs. This is fucking stupid, they think.

They struggle to meditate that night.

---

They don’t talk about it. Well, Astarion doesn’t talk about it, acts like he doesn’t even remember it; why would it even be relevant when they’re busy driving daggers into duergar skulls and meeting a friendly fucking mind-flayer in the middle of the Underdark?

He knows Caorann wants to talk about it; Caorann’s got those kind eyes that say “let’s talk” in a soft voice without even a whisper on the wind. Astarion hates it. He wants Caorann to fuck off.

This ridiculous gaggle of freaks he’s travelling with make him want to talk about everything and he hates it so much. His first time in the sun in 200 years and still he sometimes wants to crawl back into the darkest corner of his old palace-prison so no one ever looks at him again. Even Lae’zel is trying to check on him nowadays and sometimes he just wants to run away.

Don’t look at me, he mouths at the ceiling of his tent that night. Don’t touch me, he snarls silently. Keep your distance, darling, he spits in his mind. He lies on his bedroll, scowling at nothing.

Astarion has continued to feed on Caorann since his outburst. Caorann has continued to be accommodating – once, maybe every three or four days, without question, without complaint.

When is the punishment coming?

When will they run--

“No,” Astarion hisses. Then he jumps out of his skin, a soft question at the entrance of his tent completely blindsiding him. Gods, how embarrassing.

“Astarion?” Caorann’s gentle whisper comes again. “Are you in there?”

Astarion closes his eyes. “Go away.”

“Sorry,” whispers Caorann.

Oh fuck off.

“Ugh, fine. Come in,” Astarion mutters, opening his eyes to watch.

Caorann tenderly pulls back the tent fabric and steps inside. You would never know they sometimes stomp around in the shape of a bear. Astarion marvels, for a moment, at how carefully and sweetly Caorann can move, then cuts the thought off like he’s taking steel to a goblin’s neck. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop it.

Caorann squints at Astarion, then casts their eyes on a patch of ground next to him. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Do what you want,” he mutters, looking away.

Caorann hums, then lowers to sit cross-legged half a metre from him. “Do you want to deal with whatever is wrong? Everyone is asking me and we all want to help. Even Lae’zel.”

Astarion’s eyes burn and now he turns fully onto his side to face anywhere but this stupid kind druid. “What does it matter, Caorann?”

“Ugh, Astarion, fine. Do you want me to be angry with you?”

The burning in Astarion’s eyes rises something akin to what Karlach’s chest must be like, and is that-- are his eyes-- wet?

Shit.

“If you don’t want to talk then at least let me say what I want to say,” Caorann continues. “If you would rather I didn’t, tell me to fuck off. I’ll go.” Astarion stays silent. He can’t say anything. He can barely breathe.

“Astarion?”

He chokes. “Talk, then,” he manages.

He feels Caorann exhale behind him. “Are you being off because of the other night? When you yelled at me? You’ve barely spoken since. People do like your little comments and it seems like something’s not right with you. You barely even had anything to say about the myconids, and that place was just begging for your commentary.”

Astarion has nothing to say right now, either; or, really, he can’t, because he’s focusing all his energy on crying as silently and as motionlessly as possible.

“Astarion?”

Astarion tries to surreptitiously wipe his face. But Caorann isn’t stupid.

“If you need to cry about something, you don’t have to hide it, you know,” they say, and Astarion can hear their kind smile as they do, and then he--

Well, he’s not really sure what noise it is that escapes his throat, but it’s choked and strangled, and then he’s bawling and shaking and his mind is screaming no, no, no, not this, you can’t--

Caorann’s hand is on his shoulder, inviting him to turn over and face them with the most delicate little pull. Astarion makes another of those pathetic choking noises he apparently can’t control now, then turns around.

Caorann’s eyes are reflecting the moonlight that shines through a gap in the tent, glittering kind stars breaking up the darkness. Their expression is soft, though their eyes are strained with clear concern and showing off those lovely crow’s feet around--

Astarion wants to scream.

Instead he sobs.

Caorann doesn’t say a word. They just keep their hand gently resting on Astarion’s shoulder as sobs thunder through his body.

It might have been two minutes or another two hundred years before his crying slows, his shaking abates, and he can finally say something.

“Get out.”

Caorann stares right into Astarion’s eyes, a sympathetic smile on their lips. Astarion could lean forward and kiss--

“I said. Get. Out,” he growls, confidence slowly returning and taking back over his wretched, sob-wrecked muscles.

Caorann’s eyes crease with sadness. They close them, nod, then get up and leave without another word.

Astarion kicks himself immediately afterwards. Then, with barely a thought, he takes a sleep potion and sinks into nothing until first light. [tbc]

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 14, 1973

It’s mid-afternoon and he can barely keep his eyes open. He lowers the window, stops for bitter gas station coffee, musters the energy to sing along to the radio but his eyes are still so heavy.

Those things aren’t enough. He knows that. Running on fumes at this point but some part of him, tiny left over ember inside that used to be a person, reminds him that he needs to sleep. 

And a giddy, frenzied thing inside him says it will be okay. He can find Lestat and persuade him. Please don’t rush. Please don’t wreck the car nodding off. Take an extra day to drive, you will have all the time in the world.

He found a Buddy Holly 8-track under the seat. Reminds him too much of home but nice to change up the music. He and his mom used to dance around to Not Fade Away after school when he was little and he tries not to think about it as he drums his fingers along on the steering wheel.

Too much, though. He switches to FM and lights a cigarette. Approaching Abilene and he wonders if they have any stations. And it’s fuzzy country music but he prefers it to the silence, or the ghosts. Anything to make the last twenty minutes easier as he watches for the exit.

It’s odd, how clear he actually feels as he pulls off the highway. Over-exhausted, but for the first time in days he feels a little bit rational. A little calmer. Maybe too tired to freak out or something. He rubs his eyes as he cruises towards the city, ready to just pick the first motel he sees. It makes sense from here, thinking about it now. He can picture himself checking in, and pictures the long shower he wants to take, and pictures falling asleep while the sun is still up. Maybe he can stay asleep until it rises, too. 

Surely he must have gotten this much sleep recently; his life in San Francisco was full of lazy mornings. Up all night doing interviews, with no obligation in the morning. Rising whenever he felt like it, dropping tapes off at the station. Wandering around. He knows, little ember inside of him knows, that maybe two weeks ago he had mornings like that, but he can’t remember.

Well. He picks a spot. Too tired to be anxious about talking to the front desk. He thinks he makes it through the transaction like a person. Makes it into the room in one piece.

It’s not horrible. Hideous curtains and slippery gold duvet but it’s clean. He puts the tapes in the top drawer. Double locks the door. 

And shower first. Scalding hot, and he isn’t sure how long he just stands there under the spray. Back stiff from all the driving. He presses his face to the tile wall and breathes the steam. He wonders if anyone has noticed he’s missing yet.

Soft pants after. He remembered to bring pajama pants. No shirt. He shaves over the bathroom sink and feels more alert. He starts picking at the scabs again, wincing at how hard it is, how he has to dig his nails into the flaky edge, but seeing himself in the mirror gives him the strength to stop. 

Fine, fine. Be a person.

He gulps water from the tap.

Turns the TV on with the volume low, just so it’s not so quiet in here. 

Smokes a cigarette, reclined on top of of the ugly bed, staring at the TV screen but not really following it.

It’s depraved, the way his mind spins and spins. Depraved, like the way he keeps trying to dig into the scabs, like how he’s driving across the country, like how he knows he’s a changed thing. Depraved like how, for a moment, he considers jerking off before he goes to sleep, knowing he’ll be remembering Louis’s cold hands on his body.

But he rises off the bed, without planning to. Grabs his keys. Goes out to his car in his bare feet, ignoring how hot the asphalt is.

Can’t sleep like this, not without getting some of the transcription done. His eyes are sore but he promises he’ll just do one tape. Just one tape, just to get some of it done, and then he’ll sleep. He will.

So he lugs the typewriter case inside, and a ream of paper. Sets it up on the little table by the window. Grabs the set of copies, and the ashtray, and the whiskey from the bottom of his bag. 

He’s listened to the tapes a couple times now. Keeps pacing his motel rooms to them, or lying awake in the dark, pretending that Louis’s voice will lull him to sleep, instead of flooding his insides with adrenaline. It’s easier now, typing the words, taking it slow, like he’s finally really hearing them.

Play. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Play. Pause. And tap tap tap on the keys. And the quiet rhythm of the TV in the background.

Play. Pause. Snap of his lighter, hit of nicotine. Little rasp of the screw top and a slosh of whiskey. 

He breathes. He listens. Feels normal again.

“What I mean is,” Louis says from the tape, and his voice drags across Daniel’s body like a cello bow. “The moment I saw him, saw his extraordinary aura and knew him to be no creature I’d ever known, I was reduced to nothing.”

Pause.

His nails tap on the edge of the table. Heart skips a beat.

Rewind.

I was reduced to nothing.

Rewind. Play.

Tap tap tap.

He stares at the words on the paper and wants to cry. 

[previous day] | [next day]

[talesfromtheasterism]

Fear in the Realm of Fire

Entrance to Bloodstar is just the challenging feat as one would imagine. I readily admit that my first smuggling run there was mostly chance, having slipped in during a small commotion at the blast walls caused by some particularly audacious scavengers. I've since learned to shadow a certain type of crowd to the borders, ones who will occupy the soldiers without provoking them into a full sweep. If no such groups are available, I simply conduct business in the Outer Wastes until an opportunity arises.

Step inside Praedis with clandestine intent, and the mindset of occupation falls into place. A city built above itself, with metal roads held between skyscraper pincers, and verdant boulevards with three stacked layers under false sunlight. All of it joined as though one great scaffold, with a thousand corners to hide in and six directions to reach them by. The solution: no inch out of sight from the Republic's military. Ramped accessways for civilian traffic, and cargo lift priority for the APCs. Gently followed wherever you walk by the curious eye of a gun nest's IMG barrel. Hardfire walls that shutter entire districts, and flash orders to lie on the ground in searing neon letters. Once, a nervous driver noticed the projectors fizzle and made to outrun them. A moment slower, and they too would've been cut in half along with their car.

You hear countless tales up and down there. Patriotic boasts, rebellious rallies, disillusioned longing for the lifestyle of the stateless wanderers. The latest atrocities of the Old Order and the Sulphurous. Occasionally, a forbidden love story between the warring factions. Very rarely, an eccentric theory on the fate of the Forgemasters. And then, there's a story you never hear. The one you can feel in everyone's mind when the topic drifts too close to state experiments, or the astonishing leap in inferno technology. People's words lurch mid-sentence, like an arm pulled away from a flame. Instinctive fear. To the Ashen, technology is almost religion, and this queer faith has its demon, its antagonist. My curiosity was too powerful. I made a transaction. For knowledge.

What is it about the human mind that gives it such capacity for violence? An indecipherable network of feelings and impulses, so they spun the tale. The animal instinct to destroy dangers and opponents, suppressed and funnelled by a tangled web of personhood. What if, through diligent study, you could remove the person from its path? What if that mental shutter to hatred could be replaced with a synthetic, ever-open gateway? Conjoin the power of mortal rage with the surgical precision of a computer… where would the equilibrium fall, between the incensed and the unfeeling? I paid to know. And I almost regret it.

They called it Project Amalgam. They told me it was out there, in any of a thousand corners in six directions. And they told me a machine can hate.

I quickly took my leave.

⁂

[bitchycollectorpolice]

Mastering Efficiency: Your Comprehensive Guide to POS Systems for Theme Parks, Retail, Deli, Spa, and Fuel Stations

Have you ever stepped into a theme park and marveled at how smoothly everything runs? Or perhaps you’ve been at a deli, amazed at how quickly your sandwich is made? The secret sauce behind these seamless experiences often lies in the technology they use—specifically, POS (Point of Sale) systems. In this guide, we'll explore the ins and outs of Theme Parks POS systems, Deli POS systems, Spa POS systems, and Fuel POS systems, while addressing the all-important question: how much does a retail POS system cost? Let’s dive in!

Understanding POS Systems: What Are They?

A POS system serves as the backbone for businesses that engage in sales transactions. It’s not just about processing payments; a POS system helps manage inventory, track sales, and analyse customer data. Picture it as the nerve centre for operations in retail shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues.

Key Advantages of a POS System

Faster Transactions: Reduce wait times for customers, especially during busy periods.

Inventory Management: Keep track of stock levels in real-time to avoid running out of popular items.

Sales Analytics: Gain insights into customer preferences and purchasing patterns.

Enhanced Customer Experience: A smooth transaction process leads to happier customers.

The Importance of Theme Parks POS Systems

Theme parks are bustling environments, welcoming thousands of visitors daily. So how do they maintain such high levels of efficiency? Enter the Theme Parks POS system.

Why Every Theme Park Needs a POS System

Running a theme park involves managing multiple aspects, from rides to retail and dining. A robust POS system is essential for:

Speeding Up Transactions: Long lines can dampen the excitement. A well-designed POS system can significantly reduce wait times.

Real-Time Inventory Management: Ensure that food stalls and gift shops never run out of popular items.

Flexible Payment Options: Handle everything from cash to mobile payments effortlessly.

Visitor Insights: Analyse data to better understand what attracts customers and adjust accordingly.

Must-Have Features of Theme Parks POS Systems

User-Friendly Interface: The system should be intuitive so staff can be trained quickly.

Multi-Outlet Management: For parks with various retail outlets, seamless integration is key.

Mobile Capabilities: Mobile POS systems allow for payment processing away from traditional checkout counters.

How Much Does a Retail POS System Cost?

As a business owner, understanding the costs associated with a retail POS system is vital. The price can vary widely based on several factors.

Factors Influencing POS System Costs

System Type: Cloud-based systems often have lower upfront costs compared to on-premise systems.

Features Needed: More advanced functionalities, like detailed reporting or integration with other software, typically increase the cost.

Hardware Requirements: Costs for registers, scanners, and other devices can add up quickly.

Subscription Fees: Many POS systems operate on a subscription model, with monthly or annual fees for software updates and support.

Average Costs

Basic POS Systems: Expect to pay around £30 to £50 per month for basic functionalities.

Mid-Range Systems: If you need more robust features, costs can rise to £100 to £200 per month.

High-End Systems: Larger operations may invest £300 or more per month, not including hardware costs.

Deli POS Systems: Ensuring Freshness and Speed

Running a deli is all about providing quick service and fresh food. That’s where a dedicated Deli POS system shines.

Why Deli Owners Should Invest in a POS System

The unique demands of a deli require a system that can manage:

Quick Transactions: Customers want their orders fast, and an efficient POS system helps meet that demand.

Inventory Control: With perishable items, real-time tracking is essential to minimise waste.

Custom Orders: A good deli POS should handle special requests and modifications effortlessly.

Features to Look For

Customisable Menus: Allow customers to create their sandwiches with ease.

Real-Time Inventory Updates: Keep an eye on stock levels to prevent running out of popular items.

Mobile Ordering: Enable customers to order ahead, improving service speed.

Spa POS Systems: Elevating the Client Experience

In the spa industry, creating a tranquil experience is paramount. A Spa POS system can help you manage appointments, sales, and customer preferences, ensuring everything runs smoothly.

Benefits of Using a Spa POS System

In a spa setting, customer satisfaction is key. A POS system can enhance the experience by:

Streamlining Appointment Management: Prevent double bookings and manage client schedules efficiently.

Customer Profiles: Keep track of preferences for personalised service.

Product Sales Integration: Manage retail sales alongside service appointments.

Essential Features

Appointment Scheduling: A calendar integrated into the POS helps manage bookings effortlessly.

Client History Tracking: Store data on client preferences and past services for a tailored experience.

Membership Management: Easily handle recurring payments for memberships or packages.

Fuel POS Systems: Powering Up Efficiency

Fuel stations are unique environments that require a specialized approach. A Fuel POS system is crucial for managing fuel sales and associated retail operations.

Why Fuel Stations Need a POS System

Fuel stations serve numerous customers daily, and efficiency is key. A dedicated POS system provides:

Fast Payment Processing: Quick transactions keep customers moving.

Fuel Management: Monitor inventory levels in real time to avoid shortages.

Integrated Retail Sales: Manage convenience store sales alongside fuel transactions.

Key Features of a Fuel POS System

Real-Time Inventory Monitoring: Know your fuel levels and stock in the convenience store.

Flexible Payment Options: Support various payment methods, including pay-at-the-pump.

Customer Loyalty Programs: Encourage repeat business with rewards for frequent customers.

Future Trends in POS Systems

As technology continues to advance, so do POS systems. Here are some trends to keep an eye on:

Cloud-Based Solutions: More businesses are transitioning to cloud systems for enhanced flexibility and scalability.

Mobile POS Systems: Handheld devices are becoming increasingly popular for quick service.

Artificial Intelligence: AI can help analyse sales trends and predict customer behaviour.

Benefits of Adapting to New Technologies

Improved Customer Experience: The latest technology often leads to quicker and more efficient transactions.

Enhanced Security: New systems come with better security features to protect customer data.

Greater Scalability: As your business grows, your POS system should grow with it.

My Personal Experience with POS Systems

When I first launched my business, I settled for a basic POS system, thinking it would suffice. Initially, it seemed to do the job, but as I expanded, it quickly became clear that I needed something more robust. After upgrading to a more comprehensive POS system, I noticed immediate improvements in transaction speed and inventory management. It’s a game changer!

Investing in the right POS system not only streamlined my operations but also allowed me to focus more on my customers.

Conclusion

Whether you’re managing a theme park, deli, spa, or fuel station, having the right POS system is crucial for smooth operations and customer satisfaction. With the ability to integrate transactions, inventory management, and customer insights, a solid POS system can help your business thrive.

Still wondering how much does a retail POS system cost?? While prices vary based on features and functionalities, investing in a high-quality system is a step toward enhanced efficiency and growth.

Are you ready to elevate your business with the right POS system? The time to act is now!

[dankusner]

Candidate: ‘High time’ to legalize marijuana

TEXAS HOUSE

Democratic state House candidate Sally Duval gave a direct answer to a question about why she made a political video ad of her sparking up a joint, while sitting in a comfortable lawn chair with the bucolic Texas Hill Country in the background, to promote her underdog candidacy in a conservative district against a popular Republican incumbent.

“Maybe we’ll get some attention and raise some money,” the 59-yearold businesswoman said in an interview with the American-Statesman a few days after posting the video on social media this month.

“I believe that the recreational use of marijuana, or cannabis, whatever you want to call it, should be legalized.

I think having a regulatory regime similar to that of cigarettes and alcohol and liquor, beer, stuff like that, seems quite reasonable to me.”

Her tactic worked, at least to a degree, she said.

Since the post went live Sept. 9, her campaign has taken in about $1,000 a day in contributions, she said.

But not quite enough to cover the production cost for the video that ends with her taking a hit off a bong while coughing and laughing.

The tagline voice-over says, “I’m Sally Duval, and I believe it’s high time for change in Texas.”

Duval is running to unseat Carrie Isaac, who is seeking reelection to a second term, in House District 73, which includes Comal County and parts of Hays counties, southwest of Austin.

Isaac, who has lived in Hays County since the mid-2000s, was elected to the open seat in 2022 with 70% of the vote against her Democratic opponent.

The decision by Duval to make legalizing marijuana the most visible theme of her candidacy comes at a time when public attitudes toward marijuana use and possession appear to be moving away from the “just say no” mantra of generations past.

In 2023, the Texas House passed legislation by a bipartisan 87-59 vote to decriminalize small amounts of marijuana and related paraphernalia.

Isaac voted against that bill by El Paso Democrat Joe Moody.

Her campaign did not respond to a Statesman email asking about legalization efforts.

Moody has introduced versions of his bill for several sessions but has never been able to push it over the finish line to become law.

The measure was never considered in the Senate.

However, a year earlier, voters in Austin, San Marcos, Killeen, Denton and Elgin voted to decriminalize marijuana in their cities.

This year, voters in Dallas, Bastrop and Lockhart will vote on similar measures.

Voters in Lubbock in May rejected decriminalization.

Kevin Lawrence, executive director of the Texas Municipal Police Association, which represents about 33,500 local, county and state law enforcement officers statewide, said rank-and-file membership is likely split 50-50 on marijuana decriminalization and the association has not weighed in on local efforts.

The organization as a whole opposed Moody’s bill, Lawrence said, but on fairly narrow grounds.

“As of yet, we still don’t have a courtaccepted, scientifically approved field sobriety testing system for marijuana in Texas,” Lawrence said.

“We are concerned that that if we, if we legalize marijuana in Texas, we’re going to have more people driving while under the influence, and no really good way for enforcement to take place.”

Dallas Police Chief Eddie Garcia is taking a more forceful view of the proposal that would decriminalize the possession of 4 ounces of marijuana in his city “In my opinion, 4 ounces is not a small amount for personal use,” Garcia told the Dallas City Council in

August. “Four ounces can contribute to 38 different drug transactions. And who prospers? Drug dealers and drug houses prosper.”

That would lead to a lower quality of life, especially in already-struggling neighborhoods, Garcia said.

Duval said Texas law regarding the sundry products of the cannabis plant is confusing.

Medical cannabis in limited instances is legal in Texas. Gov. Greg Abbott signed a law in 2019 that tracks a federal law from the year before making hemp legal, which opened the door for the legal sale of certain THC edibles, such as gummies.

Recreational use of marijuana is not legal in Texas.

The product that Duval smoked in her video, she said, “was one of those federally legal hemp products that you can buy at any store in town.”

In her 90-second ad, she says, “You might already know what’s in this,” as she lights up a joint, “but do you know who has no idea and no way to test it? Law enforcement. They arrest people every day for marijuana possession, but they don’t have the funding to test if it’s illegal marijuana or a federally legal hemp product. Our laws are confusing and unclear.”

Moody’s bill went nowhere in the Senate last year in no small measure because Republican Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick, the chamber’s president, opposed it.

Heading toward the 2025 legislative session, Patrick shows no sign that his mind might change on decriminalizing marijuana.

He has asked senators to craft a bill to make it clear that less potent, but still intoxicating, cannabis products known as Delta 8 and Delta 9 should be illegal in Texas.

Asked if state leaders fighting legalization, or at least decriminalization, of marijuana are out of touch with public sentiment, Duval replied, “I think they’re rather way behind.” Texas voters, she added, would probably support a statewide referendum on the topic, if given the opportunity.

“Because Republicans decide what’s on that ballot,” Duval said, “they’re never going to let us have a chance to vote on it.”

[darkness-and-books]

Mummy?

Chapter 2: Chuckaboos

Scooby Doo Victorian au

⚠️: none

word count: 919

Summary: When a well liked and trusted stable boy goes missing in a wealthy neighbourhood, a few well off young ladies and gentlemen (and their dog) see fit to do some… investigation.

Frederick lay on the ground, pale yellow waistcoat discarded and draped over the veranda railing some yards away. Fred leaned up on an elbow, “Hand me that lynch pin, would you?” he called out to Norville as he pulled a kerchief out of his pocket to wipe perspiration from his brow.

Shaggy stood from his seat on the veranda and looked to the table full of various tools and pieces. “Lynch pin?” He muttered himself as he picked up a piece from the table and carried it away to Fred.

Frederick held out a hand as he heard Norville’s footsteps approaching the propped up hansom. What fell into his hand was substantially heavier than he expected. Looking down into his hand Frederick saw quite a different piece than he thought for. He looked up to Norville, one brow raised and a teasing smile had befallen his face, “Shaggy, this is the hub,” Frederick said as he waved the piece around,

Norville reached to take the piece back, “Oh no, I’ll need this too, but would you bring me a small metal peg on a metal loop,” Frederick explained, this time being sure Norville knew what to look for.

“Erm, right then,” Norville said, running back to the veranda to fetch the correct piece, a slight blush rushing to his face.

Scooby sat up on the step, the aforementioned lynch pin hanging from his mouth. “Rhis run?” Scooby asked, the piece nearly falling out of his mouth in the process.

“That looks right,” Norville said, thanking Scooby as he gingerly took the piece from between Scooby’s teeth.

Behind Norville, came the pattering of feet. He turned to hand Frederick the lynch pin, “Here y-” He froze for a moment, hand mid way through the transaction.

Miss Blake smiled at him, “Hello, Shaggy,” she greeted. Velma looked down at the pin in Norville’s hand. And took it away to where she assumed it belonged.

“Ehm, hello, Miss Blake,” Norville said, his hand finally dropping to his side as he realised he was no longer holding anything.

“How are you this morning?” Miss Blake asked as she looked back at Velma’s retreating figure.

Norville scratched the back of his neck, “Fred’s been puttering about with the hansom this morning. I’ve simply tried not to hinder the process,” He said awkwardly.

“Yes, I think that’s something of a regular occurrence for Fred,” Miss Blake commiserated as she walked up to the veranda and sat by Scooby on the steps. She scratched his ear, “I’ve brought you something,” Miss Blake said, reaching into a hidden pocket of her dress skirts with her available hand. She pulled out a treat and held it out for Scooby who promptly took it.

Scooby crunched the treat, spilling crumbs down the stairs and all into Miss Blake’s skirts. “Oh dear, Scooby, please do try to compose yourself,” She warned as she shook out her skirts.

Out by the hansom Velma was talking to Frederick, who was very nearly done working the wheel back onto the carriage. “Did you read the paper this morning?” Velma asked as Frederick finished putting the lynch pin into place.

“No, I don’t recall having read it, though I think Shaggy did. Why do you ask?” Came Frederick’s response as he stood up and dusted himself off.

“Charles 'disappeared’ recently,” Velma said with a certain emphasis on disappeared. 

“I can’t imagine that the Clarke family would ever get rid of him,” Frederick said, trying to remember anything at all distasteful about the man in question.

“Neither can I,” Velma agreed, “I thought we might visit the neighbourhood and… investigate,” She said, almost conspiratorially.

“Alright then, just let me get the carriage off the block and we’ll have a look,” Frederick turned toward the veranda to call for Norville.

“Shaggy, come and help me lift this!” Frederick shouted,  bending down to find a good grip on the underside of the carriage. Norville was with them shortly, catching the carriage’s edge on the other side.

“When we lift the hansom, grab the block, Velma,” Frederick instructed as he prepared to lift the end of the carriage. “Ready,” Fred and Shaggy braced themselves, and Velma was kneeling in front of the block. “Lift!” Frederick exclaimed. In a rush the carriage’s front end was elevated and Velma was pulling the block away.

“Let’s not do that again,” Norville panted as they put down the carriage. Fred and Norville wiped up their hands as they all walked back to the veranda.

“It’s not my intention to have to do it again any time soon,” Frederick stated as he grabbed his waistcoat from the railing.

“If you ladies will wait here a moment, I’ll bring Dolly and Brandy around for the hansom,” He said as he did up the buttons and walked off to the stables.

“He really won’t let anyone else handle those horses will he?” Miss Blake commented as they all watched him trot off into the distance the estate.

“No, I don’t think he would,” Shaggy said, grabbing his overcoat from one of the chairs.

Frederick came back, leading Dolly and Brandy to the carriage, “There you are girls,” He cooed as he began setting them up with the carriage, making sure everything was properly fastened. After double checking everything and patting the horses as praise for cooperating so well, Frederick turned once more to the veranda. “Come along then my dear Chuckaboos!” He called as he hopped into the box seat and took up the reins.

Teehee, I love Fred and Shaggy

[libraryofcirclaria]

The Esterzy

Library of Circlaria

Earlier Blog Posts

Investment, Development, and Structure

Map of Remikra, 1264-1308

Funded by revenue from a deep-trade transaction and costing 11 million qors (Remikran currency), construction on the Esterzy began in April 1272 and was completed in late November.

Upon completion, it stood as the largest aircraft in Circlaria (a record held even today), and was described by many as a "city in the sky." At width, the airship was approximately 400 feet; and at length, it was 1200 feet. In terms of cabin space and volume, it was more than 16 times larger than the Pirafone. Its lift interior was divided into sixteen sub-interiors, with four spanning the area inside the main lift's width for each of four 300-foot long sections within the main vessel. Attached to the bottom of each sub-interior was a two-level passenger cabin, meaning that the bottom four cabins running along the center had window views both on the left and right side of the ship; the left and right cabins (four on each side) had respectively left and right views of the outside; and the top four cabins had views only of the interior of the vessel, through the center of which ran a large corridor, named the Sky Boulevard.

Each cabin followed the same room arrangement and structure as that of the fabled Pirafone, consisting of two levels. On the lower level stood the atrium, the ballroom, the dining room, and the gaming room. On the upper level of each cabin stood the guest rooms, divided into economy, middle, and upper social classes.

The Sky Boulevard was spanned by a cable rail tram that hung from the top cabin and ran the length of the corridor. Looping around the center of the corridor below the rail was a people-mover network featuring a two-level line of slow-moving cabs attached to a moving conveyor belt. The lower level of this was accessible directly from the floor while the upper level was accessible by a raised platform accessed by a set of steps every 50 feet. The lower level rotated clockwise while the upper level rotated counter-clockwise.

Service

Construction and development of the Esterzy was funded by Bucksworth Financial Institution, who owned the vessel. They launched the Esterzy into service in January 1273 with a route to Weston in the Galapolgis Island territories. Its first international route, beginning that February, ran from the Great North, to Tandeiyah, and to Furthing. The following year, it began its routes to Monassa and the Mid-Westerlies. By the mid-1270s, its service routes included all of Remikra, and by the beginning of the 1280s, all of Canticula.

Passenger ticket prices were prohibitively expensive, going as high as 11'000 qors per person. So most passengers aboard were those of the upper social class, including politicians, celebrities, and high-ranking business figures, as well as family members and invited friends.

The Esterzy reached peak service in January 1287 with its first trip to Ancondria, where it rested thousands of miles away from Remikra when the Provan Republic attacked the Early Republic. However, fate struck the vessel on 6 January 1290, when it was shot down over Lake Onad in the nation of Lotemn.

[conrad-browne]

Level Up Your Gameplay with Free Fire Top Up Services

Free Fire is one of the most popular battle royale games on mobile devices today. As a multiplayer shooter game, success in Free Fire requires not just skill but also upgrading your arsenal using in-game currencies and items. This is where Free Fire top up services come in - allowing you to conveniently purchase Free Fire Diamonds and other currencies to enhance your gaming experience.

Why You Should Use a Top Up Service

Purchasing Free Fire Diamonds directly from app stores can be expensive compared to using a dedicated top up service. Services like LootBar offer Diamonds and other packages at discounted rates, allowing you to level up your gameplay without spending as much.

Top up services also offer convenience through instant delivery of currencies and 24/7 customer support. This means you spend less time handling transactions and more time enjoying the game.

Benefits of Free Fire Diamonds

Free Fire Diamonds are the premium in-game currency that can be used to purchase a variety of exclusive items that provide tactical advantages during matches. Here are some key benefits:

Unlock elite and legendary character costumes - These provide special skills and abilities to gain an edge over opponents.

Obtain stylish and intimidating weapon skins - Upgraded weapon skins often come with attributes like increased firing rate or reload speed.

Access elite weapon bundles and characters - Special bundles provide multiple upgraded items at a discounted cost.

Open loot crates - Diamonds allow you to open crates that contain rare items unavailable through regular gameplay.

How to Top Up Free Fire Diamonds

Topping up Diamonds using services like LootBar involves just a few simple steps:

Select your desired Diamond bundle based on the amount you wish to purchase.

Choose your payment method - options include credit/debit cards, e-wallets, cryptocurrency, etc.

Enter your Free Fire account ID.

Complete payment to initiate top up.

The purchased Diamonds will be credited directly to your account.

The entire process usually completes within 5-10 minutes for most top up services. This enables you to get back in the game with upgraded gear in no time.

Ensuring a Safe and Reliable Transaction

When purchasing premium currencies online, safety should be your top priority. Only use reliable platforms like LootBar that guarantee:

100% protected payments via encrypted gateways.

Verified Diamonds with guaranteed delivery.

Secure account top ups without requiring passwords.

24x7 customer service support via Live Chat and Email.

Full refunds in case of failed transactions.

Avoid unknown services that may engage in fraudulent activities like unauthorized account access. This safeguards your money and gaming progress.

Enjoy an Uninterrupted Gaming Experience

Running out of Diamonds mid-game can severely limit your ability to compete with upgraded opponents. Top up services ensure you have a steady supply of premium currency, for an enjoyable and uninterrupted gaming session.

Immediate delivery combined with discounted bundle rates means you spend less time away from the game worrying about diamonds. Stay energized in longer battle royale matches without worrying about upgrades.

"I only do top ups from LootBar now - cheaper rates plus instant delivery is perfect for my gameplay style. I can focus more on tactics rather than stopping to buy diamonds." - Sarah, Free Fire Player

A lag-free payments and delivery process is crucial for an optimized battle royale experience, which services like LootBar provide.

Enhance Your Progress with Bundles

One efficient way to spend your Free Fire Diamonds is by purchasing special bundles that pack multiple upgrades. For example, LootBar offers:

Character bundles with matched costumes and abilities.

Gun skin bundles with customized weapons for different play styles.

Membership and event bundles providing temporary boosts and perks.

Special edition collaboration bundles from popular media franchises.

Bundles maximize value for your Diamonds compared to individual purchases. They also streamline the upgrade process, enabling rapid strengthening of your in-game arsenal.

Wrap Up

Investing in Free Fire top up services opens up the true potential of upgrades and customization for next-level gameplay. LootBar facilitates this through discounted Free Fire Diamonds, protected account top ups, instant delivery, and 24x7 support. Level up with premium bundles, weapon skins, costumes and more without breaking the bank. Top up today to step up your game!

[internationalrealestatenews]

[ad_1] Whereas the common American spends greater than 4 years saving to buy a house, in accordance with Intuit, there are a lot of individuals in different elements of the world—particularly battle zones—for whom saving any amount of cash is a luxurious. In locations like Israel and Ukraine, the place battle has introduced the actual property trade in each nations to a digital standstill, individuals’s homebuying and promoting ambitions have been sidelined by a extra pressing want: survival. Cultural Which means of Homeownership Endures in Israel The actual property group in Israel is in a holding sample, ready to see how the battle with Hamas will impression the nation over the long run, says Assaf Epstein, broker-owner of Nadlan 2000, a luxurious actual property agency in Jerusalem. Epstein says that purchasing a house is commonly an emotional determination, and with their lives upended by battle, his shoppers don’t have the psychological bandwidth to see a house transaction via presently. Individuals are rather more cautious about nonessential purchases, provides Epstein, who is also the chair of the Jerusalem Chamber of Actual Property Brokers. Within the speedy aftermath of the Oct. 7 assault by Hamas, Epstein says, he was busy taking calls from panicked shoppers who had been frightened about their pending transactions. Then, the calls stopped because it turned clear an prolonged, full-scale battle was underway. Patrons and sellers simply froze. “As soon as the calls stopped coming in and purchaser curiosity went away, some brokers had been confronted with the fact of not with the ability to present for his or her households,” Epstein explains, including that some brokers left the enterprise whereas others joined the navy. However Epstein is assured the actual property trade will likely be revived. Homeownership has sturdy cultural significance in Israel, the place many are descendants of the Jewish diaspora. Proudly owning a house creates a way of permanence that many hadn’t recognized previous to residing in Israel. And although the pool of patrons has dramatically lowered for the reason that battle started, there are nonetheless these from the diaspora seeking to make “aliyah,” the immigration of Jews to Israel. “We live in a time of rising antisemitism,” Epstein says. “And, as loopy because it sounds, I get calls from American Jews contemplating transferring to Israel—perhaps as a result of they've a baby who's learning right here, and so they desire a second house. However I'm additionally listening to from some who're afraid that they must depart the USA as a result of improve in antisemitism.” For now, Epstein is doing his greatest to counsel shoppers, nevertheless it’s tough to offer them conclusive steering as a result of he can’t predict how the battle will play out. “It will take time,” Epstein says. “I'm hopeful by mid-2024, the market will enhance. However individuals have to really feel secure once more to ensure that that to occur.” He provides: “The market goes down quite a bit quicker than it comes again up.” Developments Present Hope for Ukrainian Actual Property “There was horrible destruction to property, in addition to civilian casualties,” says Olga Arkhypova, an agent with Associate Actual Property in Odesa, Ukraine. The variety of displaced residents there continues to extend because the battle with Russia rages on, and most of the people are involved about saving money for on a regular basis wants, not to mention buying a house. Arkhypova is counseling shoppers on easy methods to reap the benefits of housing packages enacted by the federal government to help house patrons and householders whose properties have been destroyed. She’s additionally busy working with shoppers who fled Odesa, itemizing the properties they left behind and delivery their private belongings to them. Some elements of the town are seeing a return to normalcy: Rental charges are again to prewar ranges in Odesa’s most fascinating neighborhoods.

However demand in any a part of the town usually is determined by how a lot shelling the realm has acquired. Though Arkhypova has remained secure, she says she hears sirens all through the day. “Till 2022, Odesa was one of many prime three actual property markets in Ukraine and was tied with Kyiv for many housing underneath development,” Arkhypova says. However different cities additional away from the battlefront, similar to Lviv, Rivne, Ternopil and Ivano-Frankivsk, are seeing a rise in homebuyer demand, she provides. Accordingly, house costs in these areas are rising. Arkhypova will get intel from fellow actual property professionals round Ukraine, and the tendencies she’s listening to about in different cities are giving her hope for Odesa. “There will likely be peace and prosperity once more, which signifies that Ukrainian brokers may have loads of work, and the nation’s actual property market will flourish—as will the complete economic system of the nation,” she says. Caring for a Dwelling in Kyiv From the U.S. Arkhypova additionally retains in contact with actual property professionals overseas who left Ukraine, like Olesya Drozdova, who's now an agent with Altamar Actual Property in Dana Level, Calif. Although Drozdova moved together with her husband from Kyiv to America in 1998, she feels a powerful connection to her homeland. Drozdova remembers life as a baby in Kyiv underneath the rule of the Soviet Union. Folks didn’t personal their properties privately, and authorities might take their properties away from them for any purpose. Drozdova says she’s grateful to be within the U.S. however feels pleasure in her Ukrainian heritage. “Seeing what is going on again house may be very tough as a result of I need to do one thing to assist, however I've obligations right here,” she says. “I can’t simply stop my job and return to Ukraine. However I can’t do nothing, both.” Drozdova stays in contact recurrently together with her mates and fellow actual property brokers in Ukraine. She’s listening to about areas of the nation which are taking in 1000's of refugees, complicating native housing dynamics there. Whereas some elements of Ukraine have blocks of empty buildings, others don’t have sufficient housing for the inflow of recent residents. Drozdova is busy ensuring her mom’s house in Kyiv is being cared for. By probability, Drozdova’s mom came around her on the finish of 2021; she was nonetheless in California on Feb. 24, 2022, when Russia’s invasion started. “She was supposed to return in March of 2022, however, after all, that didn’t occur,” Drozdova says. Her mom remains to be residing together with her now. “She is 80 years previous. I gained’t let her return.” They’ve been capable of depend on a household buddy to take care of her mom’s house whereas she is away, however there was a priority about looters. For now, she’s simply blissful her mom is secure. [ad_2]

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 08x02 What’s Up, Tiger Mommy?

“That was phrased on purpose I’m sure”

Somehow, we skipped Episode 2 so we’re watching it after SPN 08x03.

“Aren’t these guys worried about blood-borne illnesses at all?” “Something mighty important” “Fkn Chicago” “Why is Box 1 not in the top left?” “And she would never be there for the opening. That’s not a thing. They take your box out, put it on the table, and leave you alone.” “who cut who?” “Is it fkn hair cut day? Jesus Christ” “Back in my day…scratch out day and put purgatory” “You also wouldn’t be watering plants mid-day. Not usually anyway” “I guess I don’t know what time it is, but they are just dumb demons after all” “Yeah, fuck em! And shake your head at them” “Wasn’t that her friend or something? Don’t they know that stabbing the host kills the host? What the fuck?” “Could have exorcised her?” “ehhh” “They all sound like they broke out of an institution. Holy fuck” “Just trying to imagine what Dean is thinking during his smile” “what the fuck” “that was cool as fuck. How did they not think of that sooner? That was so off-the-cuff. Oh yeah just say it backward” “Helluva lot of makeup.” “I don’t know shit about Ferraris. Just a red Ferrari to me” “eh” “little strong with the verbiage there but sure” “Fkn Willy Wonka or what?” “That whole thing was a little weird I guess” “Let me guess - mom’s car isn’t Eurotrash” “Not his gun” “Why even bring it?” “Was that fkn Patrick Stewart? That guy kinda looked like him at first glance” “Hey bitch” “That is his name” “That guy is from LetterKenny” “That’s, at least, 94%.” “Ok, Mr. Texas”

I wish we had more PurGAYtory

“Why is Purgatory gay?” Dean looked for Cas for over a year; Dean prayed to him every night. Cas trying to protect Dean.

“I feel like they’re going to work with Crowley after this” “Just go swipe your knife, man. Stab a bitch” laughter “thats funny” “Saying that within ear shot yeah ok” “Tell Sky Daddy to cram it. We’re going with the boys” “That was such a weird set-up for the episode to have this kind of ending” laughter “what the fuck is happening?” “Has that guy ever shot a gun before? Nobody’s really moving at all. It’s not rocket science” “Alright. We got our payoff I guess” “Still kinda weird” “Toodles” “So she’s soulless now?” No, the transaction wasn’t completed

“They’re not that crappy. Come on now” “eh” “They’re running away on you. No big deal. Gotta see that coming. Should have stood between them and the exit”

[webmeridian]

Magento vs Shopify: Which Platform to Choose for Your Store

The article was initially published in WebMeridian blog.

Today’s eCommerce space is evolving at lightning speed. Remember, there are thousands of eCommerce businesses like yours that ponder upon it.

As a business owner, if you want to survive in the digital age, sooner or later, you’ll need to bring your products online, and you’ll need the right eCommerce platform. In a tech-driven world, a compact and robust eCommerce platform helps you maintain a professional store.

Plus, it makes it easier to showcase your product line, ensure an impeccable shopping experience, and count a significant uptick in sales. Moreover, eCommerce platforms have centralized the efforts of businesses managing their inventory, offering customer support, and processing payments.

Form a Clear Perspective about eCommerce Platforms

When it comes to Magento vs Shopify, you’d be surprised to find out how many businesses still have little to no idea which they should choose. Part of the issue is that many business owners have no clue about their own considerations and want to select an eCommerce solution purely based on generalization.

Shopify and Magento work wonders whether you run mid size or big operations. Here’s the thing, you should first review your business needs and then see whether you’ll be better off with Shopify or Magento. From Magento to Shopify, you’ll need to browse and dive into a comparison of a lot of elements. Magento works as a great open-source eCommerce hub.

Now, we’ll break down how Magento and Shopify are different from one another.

Key Statistics and Figures about Magento Vs Shopify

Shopify and Magento have become hallmark eCommerce platforms. Magento accounts for 1.2%, whereas Shopify holds a 10% market share.

In terms of add-ons and apps, Magento features 3600, while Shopify comes with 4200.

When it comes to live sites, Magento supports 50,000+ across the United States and powers up over 315,000 websites globally. On the other hand, Shopify shores up to 3,450,000 live sites.

In terms of annual transaction volume, there are over $140 billion worth of transactions that are processed on Magento.

Magento powers sites in health, fashion, beauty, electronics, home, sports, apparel, media, etc.

More than 90% of shopping deals would take place online by 2040 and Shopify and Magentoplatforms are at the forefront.

Magento accounts for a 50%-80% revenue boost for various eCommerce businesses.

You can choose from more than 200,000 Magento-based developers throughout the world.

Magento ranks as the 9th-best among content management systems. Even in an evolving eCommerce ecosystem, Shopify usually ranks in the top three.

Shopify vs. Magento: Detailed Comparison

If choosing an eCommerce platform seems like a daunting task, focus on the essential use cases. So, what’s the main difference between Shopify and Magento? Well, if you run small to medium-sized eCommerce operations, then you’ll find Shopify more attractive. But if you don’t mind getting into the technicalities, then Magento is a more suited option.

Selecting the right eCommerce platform depends on your business requirements. When deciding which eCommerce platform is right for you, review essential elements in this Magento vs Shopify comparison guide.

Ease of Use: Magento Vs Shopify

If you choose an eCommerce platform that is difficult to navigate, then you’ll run into unexpected challenges that would inevitably impact your store. In terms of usability, Shopify has an edge over Magento. One of the best things about Shopify is that it doesn’t require end-users to have coding skills.

In fact, using Shopify is a matter of setting up a new online store and selling products right away. On the downside, Shopify has limited customization, which doesn’t offer complete control of a site. If you’re looking for an outclass eCommerce solution with drag-and-drop functions, site builders, and simple customizations, opt for Shopify.

But if you don’t mind getting into the nuts and bolts of installation and maintenance, then Magento is a much better option. The open-source eCommerce hub features a page builder and comes with an expensive price tag. Unlike Shopify, you’ll find Magento store administration way more challenging.

On the bright side, you can integrate Magento’s admin controls with WordPress and centralize/streamline your content management. In short, if you’re an amateur, it would make more sense to choose Shopify. But if you have some coding skills, Magento would make a better choice.

Pricing: Shopify Vs Magento

Magento You’ll find the pricing structure of Magento within your reach. It is equal parts flexible and competitive. There is an option to opt for a Magento plan that meets your eCommerce business needs. And the best part is that it cuts out the need to cover a subscription fee each month. In fact, you can also use the free version of Magento and install it to set up a new store.

But you will need to cover the cost of hosting providers and getting a new domain so that you can publish your site. Magento’s license cost is a different story and comes down to multiple factors. It can be Magento’s version or the license type you want. You can either opt for Magento Commerce or Magento Open Source.

One of the reasons that Magento Open Source stands out is that it is a free system solution. It means there are no licensing charges. But you’ll have to cover the hosting, additional expenses, and site development costs.

Magento Commerce, on the other hand, is a proprietary system, and the starting annual price is around $22,000. Why pay a licensing fee? Well, this is how you get security updates, dedicated technical support, and software access. But the actual cost will come down to varying eCommerce needs, like the number of sites and servers you want to run through Magento.

Shopify Shopify works around a subscription model and features five different pricing tiers. Depending on your eCommerce business needs, you can choose a $9 or a $2,000 tier per month. All Shopify plans feature hosting and domain names and you can choose from a variety of themes and templates at a relatively low price point.

In fact, you’ll find that the majority of Shopify themes are super cost-effective. In comparison, both Magento and Shopify pricing can go high and low. If you want great templates, you won’t have to pay more than $180 on Shopify. However, it’ll cost you around $500 on Magento. Users often find it difficult to calculate each plan’s transaction fee and how it would impact the process.

It is vital to understand that Shopify and Magento have different pricing structures. Affordability comes into play only if you have minimal or basic eCommerce needs. It is entirely up to you how you use open-source eCommerce platforms like Magento. And based on your business requirements, the pricing structure is bound to vary.

Integrated Tools: Magento Vs Shopify

Magento comes with built-in features like an advanced inventory system. This allows store owners to check their total visitor count, render revenue reports, import high-volume databases related to products, and compare different product variants.

Business professionals also have the option to get sales solutions from the Magento marketplace. Once you have access to sales tools, set fixed percentages and discount prices, recover abandoned carts, customize checkouts, and make improvements to enhance customer journeys.

Magento’s sales solutions also support multi-channel selling. You can also leverage the Shopify marketplace so that you can quickly sell a wide range of products. Similarly, you can use the Shopify marketplace to recover lost sales and check out abandoned carts.

Selling digital products, you can use Shopify to sell physical products. What’s more is that Shopify has partnerships with UPS, USPS, and DHL Express. This allows store owners to deliver their products efficiently through courier services. In comparison, Shopify features more robust sales tools than Magneto. On the same platform, you can use Google Analytics for thorough data review.

Themes: Magento and Shopify

Your online store’s theme is a crucial element that increases or decreases user retention. If you want to thrive in the eCommerce space, you’ll need a layout and design elements that can garner more attention from users.

Shopify features a long list of premium and free themes. While Magento features impressive themes, it’s not even close to what Shopify has in store for its users. So, if you want to fully customize a theme, then you’re most likely to love Magento.

Magento offers 11 different themes priced from $30 to $500. You can still use Magento to build your dream online store, use the features that work wonders, and make adjustments until you meet your specific brand image.

But if you simply want to choose from a broad selection of paid themes, then choose Shopify over Magento. Plus, you won’t need any coding skills to make changes to Shopify themes.

Apps and Add-Ons

Wondering how to choose the best ecommerce platform? For many eCommerce business owners, it’s all about supported add-ons and apps and an eCommerce platform. Without Add-ons — you can’t add more functionality to your eCommerce store. Whether you choose Magento or Shopify, both platforms make it possible to tap into extensions and add-ons.

Shopify features more than 1,000 apps. You can find premium as well as free apps on Shopify. These apps usually revolve around social media advertising, shipping, and email marketing.

Marketing Features

Marketing tools or features are a crucial component when deciding which e-Commerce platform is right for you. When you have direct access to great marketing tools, you can make the changes to expand your user base and improve your business’ bottom line.

Shopify comes with great marketing tools that pair together with third-party integration. For instance, you can use tools, like Klaviyo and Seguno to sell your products on Instagram and Facebook. Shopify also supports multilingual websites, which allows you to market your products in multiple languages.

On the flip side, Magento has a dedicated marketplace for marketing tools. So, if you want to roll out email campaigns, you’ll first have to install extensions. You’ll also need to hire a skilled web developer who can integrate marketing tools. If you want simplicity, you’ll likely gravitate more toward Shopify’s integrated marketing tools.

When you compare Magento and Shopify, you have to consider your business needs. Comparing Shopify vs Magento involves a strategic process — it’s about having to figure out “which” one caters to your needs. In the end, when it comes to Magento vs Shopify comparison, focus on the features, pricing, add-ons, built-in tools, and other elements to make your decision. So, the next time you read, “Which is better Magento or Shopify,” make sure not to generalize.

Conclusion

If you’re part of the eCommerce industry or looking for leading eCommerce platforms, you’re going to explore Shopify vs Magento comparison. Magento and Shopify are invaluable and robust eCommerce platforms. If you want to make the “right” choice, find out as much as possible about both platforms and avoid generalizations. At all costs, focus on the elements that meet your prerequisite needs and help you establish and run a successful online store.

Once you review the fundamental differences between Magento and Shopify, you’ll be able to choose the one that can help you meet your eCommerce store needs faster. Since Magento and Shopify have different use cases and parameters, consider how every single element of these eCommerce solutions can help you lay and strengthen the foundation of your online business.

Contact us to get top-tier full-service development, delivery, and support around multifaceted eCommerce solutions. Whether you choose Magento or Shopify, we at WebMeridian can help you maximize your traffic and conversions along with state-of-the-art website development.

[seijorhi]

No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy. 

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face. 

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek. 

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest. 

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach. 

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone. 

Not that he’s ever that patient. 

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?” 

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in. 

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down. 

Dinner, and everything else for that matter. 

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.” 

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. 

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat. 

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful. 

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend. 

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt. 

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes. 

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week. 

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of  guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days. 

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later. 

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything. 

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.  

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone. 

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers. 

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out. 

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely. 

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you. 

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning. 

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.” 

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement. 

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do. 

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?” 

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually. 

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask. 

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch… 

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek. 

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence. 

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.” 

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs. 

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages. 

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open. 

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her. 

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?” 

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely… 

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true. 

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore. 

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account. 

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job. 

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff. 

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one. 

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave. 

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile. 

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.” 

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto. 

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you. 

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?” 

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’. 

But that was then. 

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake. 

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper. 

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

[sunjaesol]

love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

[battybatzgirl]

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary: 

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

1.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

2.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

3.

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

4.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

5.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?