#the Safehouse Pg

[safehousegirlpg]

Elevate your lifestyle at a luxury PG in Gurgaon with The Safehouse PG. Relish in beautifully designed rooms, daily hygienic meals, and exceptional security. Our PG provides the ideal mix of comfort, style, and convenience. Are you ready to make your stay unforgettable? Find your new home with us today!

[sapchat]

IDK if this has been done but I went through the 3 reboots and did a timeline of events so you wouldn't have to!

Side notes: sometimes I use the first initial for who it is! also some of MW3 has timestamps. I also apologize for spelling. Also, lots of this shit happens over like 7-12 days April 6, 2019 Makarov bombs Verdansk Price, Ghost and Soap know each other at this point, have NOT met Gaz

Start of MW1 Oct 24 2019 'Al Qatal' moves gas Oct. 25 2019 Piccadilly Square Oct. 25 2019 Price meets Gaz Oct 26 19 Alex & Farah blow Barkov's bombs Same day destroy one of B's bases Oct. 27 19 Price and Gaz go to Picc Safe house Oct 28 19A&F go to Urzstan hospital for "The Wolf" Oct 28 19 P&G meet up w/ A&F for the Wolf Oct 29 19 Plan ambush for Butcher & Wolf - Hadir uses the gas, learn Hadir stole the gas Oct 29 19 PGAF Go to kill W, & get H Oct 29 19 PGAF kill the wolf, H is 2 Russia Oct 31 19 PGN go 2 Russia, Capture Kill Butcher (and traumatize a family) Nov 1 19 Hadir is handed over to Russia Nov 3 19 Take down Barkov's gas production plant & K Price meets Kate @ Tea shop makes TF 141 w/ Ghost, Soap, & Gaz END of MW1 - May 22, 2022 Soap goes side questing, turns green (idk I didn't watch the trailer (I did but I just know there's like green gas)) Start of MW2 July 15 22 Ghost Blows AlMazrah base (Honestly didn't get the point of us seeing this) Oct 28 22 GS Kill/Cap Mission for Hassan -> Find American Missiles not Hassan Oct 28 22 PG in Amsterdam for Missile info (Think they used it as an excuse to swim) Oct 29 22 Capture a cartel mem 4 info Oct 29 22 Alej. Go for cartel jumping border Oct 30 22 GSAlej go 4 Hassan safehouse They capture Hassan (picnic in the desert omg!) Oct 31 22 PG in Spain for Hassan info Kate gets caught Shepherd tries to abandon her Nov 1 22 PG meet with F to get Kate (they get her and get juicy gos on Shep) Nov 1 22 Soap goes into Casa de Sin Nombre Nov 2 22 Gulf oil rig, blows up by G&S (philip was here too) Nov 3 22 Soap & Ghost are fighting Shadow co Nov 3 22 SG go for Alej w/ Rodolfo. PG meet up Nov 3 22 141 goes for Graves Nov 4 22 Go 2 Chicago 4 Hassan & missile kill both END of MW2 - Kate (& tech. Gaz) learn about Makarov

Start of MW3 Nov 10 23 Makarov is broken out of jail 2am Nov 10 23 Farah is ambushed Konni got missiles around 6am Nov 10 23 141 go for Nuc Power Plant, P get gased 9am Makarov has been out for 6 hours Nov 11 23 They go for Missiles in Urzikistan Nov 11 23 Kate is going 4 intel on Makarov meets Yuri @ 3pm Nov 11 23 Makarov crashes plane, blames Farah and Alex go there 7:30-9:30pm meet with Kate and Nikolai in hanger Nov 12 8am Nov 12 23 they go for Milena 7pm Nov 13 23 they get Makarovs right hand man Nolan 11am Nov 14 23 They find Shepherd swimming at some point 9:30 Nov 16 23 SG stop Verdansk dam bombing Same time PG are at airsti Nov 21 23 141 go after Makarov Hacker Nov 21 23 They stop Makarov bomb, Soap gets killed. Price kills Shepherd after spreading Soap's ashes.

[totallyfluxd]

I've found it, the holy grail of "oh my god please PLEASE talk to a brit" in fic. stovetop kettles. if you have a stovetop kettle in this country, in this century, I am guessing you probably also have an aga. perhaps a peerage. not a shitty one bed flat in stockwell. and to suggest an office breakroom?????? has a stovetop kettle????????? what offices are you seeing with stoves!!! please I am begging you to let these poor archival assistants make a brew with an electric kettle, they'll be there for hours waiting for a hob to heat up and boil a stovetop sodding kettle

for the love of god, americans writing fic set in the uk. please. please brit pick. please. doesn't matter how interesting your premise is, if I keep getting thrown out of the narrative by closets and blocks and sweaters and elevators and there being a reasonable amount of parking in central london I will be backing out of your fic post haste

[blackbat05]

Unexpected Refuge

Detective! Joaquin x Bookstore Owner! Reader

Plot: Your book store is a place of refuge for those seeking knowledge, and shelter?

Genre: PG-13

A/N: K-drama giving me ideas once again. Also SDCC 2024 announcements?!!! Just blew my mind🤯 Excuse me for the poor execution, really wrote this on a whim. Also realized that Joaquin was a character I wrote before I went into a mental health crisis😂 How time flies~ (Tag update because I am a nuisance: @tom-whore-dleston)

The man pants heavily as he darts into the nearest alley. Shouts of anger and thinly veiled threats were getting closer. He’s proud of his stamina but he can’t keep running away from them. He needs to recover his energy.

But where?

A light shines up ahead and without a second thought, the man races towards what could be his potential temporary safehouse.

Bang!

There were no customers inside. Just plenty of books, and a wide-eyed woman blinking at the hurricane of a man that just stormed her store.

He hurriedly digs into the inside of his coat, showing his credentials.

“I’m so sorry, my name is Joaquin Torres. I’m a Detective and it may sound crazy to you but I’m being chased by a group of Gangsters and I could really use some shelter.” His plea comes out in rapid fire.

The poor woman takes a quick look at his badge and for a brief moment, Joaquin believed that she was going to toss him to the dogs.

“This way.” She leads him further into the store and opens a latch on the floor that leads to storage. “In here!” She commands with urgency.

As soon as Joaquin is safely tucked away, she locks the latch and places stacks of books on top of it. The door flies open and the same Gangsters rowdily burst into the store. Joaquin feels a tinge of guilt. He can’t imagine how her store must be tossed upside down thanks to him.

What he didn’t expect was the woman holding her ground and demanding the Gangsters to leave as they apparently ruined one of her newest books that was just bought in.

“And stay out!” She screeches before flipping the sign to inform customers that they were closed for the day.

“Um…” The woman reverts back into her bashful form that Joaquin was amazed at her acting skills. “They’re gone. You can come out now.” The door opens and she helps Joaquin out.

“Thank you.” Joaquin doesn’t know what else to add. His shoes are suddenly very interesting.

“I thought you were lying about being a cop.” Her voice is soft and gentle, causing the insides of his stomach to do a couple of flips. “I guess not. Those guys were scary.” The tension breaks and Joaquin grins at her becoming flustered at the attention he was giving her.

“You can stay here for a while more. To make sure.” She offers.

Joaquin really wanted to. But if he didn’t get back to the precinct. Sam will have his ass.

“I would love to but my partner’s waiting for me. I should probably go.”

She nods in understanding, “Of course. Be careful.” The two walk to the door and she pops her head out to make sure that the coast was clear. She smelled like berries and vanilla.

“Coast clear, officer.”

He liked the way it sounded on her lips. He didn’t want it to be the last time.

“Um… would you like to have dinner sometime?”

She raises her eyebrows in question and Joaquin hurriedly explains, “It’s not what you think! I just wanted to thank you for today. Really. You saved my life. Not many people do that. I usually do most of the saving- I guess I should shut up now.” He observed her amused expression as he continued to ramble.

“Sure. I know a great steak place.”

***

“Hey Barnes! Torres here has a date! Any tips?” Captain Sam Wilson, loud as ever whenever he felt like heckling his best friends follows Joaquin around like a wart on his foot.

“Leave the man alone, Sam.” James Barnes gives him the middle finger. Cool blues turning to Joaquin, “Just be yourself. Everything will be fine.”

Yeah, not exactly reassuring either.

The old fashioned way it is.

Joaquin finds himself standing in front of your bookstore with a bouquet of roses in his hand. He catches your eye and you give him a sign to give you a couple more minutes as you cleaned and locked up the place for the night.

“Thanks for waiting!” You rushed out in sunflower colored dress, looking radiant. He swears his heart thumped loudly against his chest. “I was surprised to get your call.”

“Well, I made a promise.” Joaquin leads the way to the Steak Restaurant where you had the absolute time of your life chatting with the boyish detective in front of you.

“Oh my god! That really happened?” You laughed, tears forming in your eyes. “It seems to be like a recurring thing going on in your team.”

The two of you headed down the street after that sumptuous meal. Your hair is tousled all over the place and you feel like you’ve just ate a whole cow, but Joaquin doesn’t take his attention of you for a second.

As he recounts another mishap during a undercover mission with Sam, a wolf whistle rings through the air and a figure, no- three of them appear from the dark alley, each looking more menacing then the other.

Joaquin’s mind kicks into overdrive instantly and feels you tense up against beside him. He instinctively moves forward to shield you from them. But they’re not blind.

“Look who we found… Detective Joaquin Torres and oh! I see you got company.” The middle one leers at you and Joaquin has the urge to punch it off his face. You give his hand a squeeze, as if to reassure him to do whatever he needs to do to get these suckers.

As quickly and quietly as possible, you take out your pepper spray and ball your fist to conceal it from them.

“How is it that you three assholes show up at the most inconvenient timing?” Joaquin distracts them.

They smirk at each other and Joaquin lunges forward to take the middle and left man onto the ground, leaving the last as easy prey for you to pepper spray him to your heart’s content.

What you didn’t expect was the man to wildly brandish a pocket knife, nicking you in the process as he swings it around.

“Ah!” You hissed loudly, clutching your left hand. Joaquin immediately turns his attention to you and swiftly takes the third man down with ease.

He dials in a number and police cars arrive in no time to take the men away. Joaquin jogs over to you while a uniformed policewoman helps to bandage your hand.

“Let me.” He smiles and thanks his colleague for the efforts and works on finishing the job in silence. You can’t read minds, but you could guess.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” You reassure him.

Joaquin doesn’t say anything. He lets out a small exhale. So you try again.

“In fact, I feel pretty badass. Don’t you think?” You gently pry your hand away and show him your now bandaged hand proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Torres!”

The Captain jogs over, giving a pat on his back. “Came as quickly as I could. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks Sam.” Joaquin reassures. Sam nods, his gaze falling onto you.

“This is the girl you couldn’t stop talking about?”

“Ok, Sam. Stop.” Joaquin pleads, trying to push him as far away from you without much success.

“He was asking me how to impress you! Hey? I didn’t get your name though!” Sam yells over his shoulder, making you laugh at their antics.

“Y/N! I’ll see you around Sam!”

“Oooh I like her already, don’t fuck up Torres.”

“Leave!” Joaquin has to push Sam into the car and makes his way back to you, looking sheepish.

“Sorry, about that. Sam can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.”

A pocket of silence fills the air and you have to know.

“You were trying to impress me?”

Joaquin blinks. He momentarily opens his mouth and comically looks like a fish out of water. “Did it work?”

“Well…” You pretend to tap your chin carefully and Joaquin squirms in his shoes a little. “You impressed me the moment you came bursting into my store seeking for shelter.”

You laugh at Joaquin’s groan. “Not the answer that I was expecting.”

You give him a peck on the cheek and Joaquin momentarily freezes. “Is that a better answer?”

He holds his hand to the cheek that you just left a kiss on. For a moment, you’re scared that you’ve fried Joaquin’s internal circuits to respond coherently. But he breaks into a foolishly but adorably big smile.

Joaquin holds you by the waist and brings you closer to him and gives you a kiss of his own that leaves you spinning senseless.

“One hundred percent.”

[morverenmaybewrites]

Hiya! First of all your blog’s interface is so cute i’m rolling on the floorrrrrrr

Second of all your writing is absolutely amazing, i’ve just finished reading “the pizza delivery girl’s survival guide to gotham city” and lemme tell u i can’t wait for the next chapter cause absolute gold-

I wanted to ask what your thoughts are on Jason and day-to-day life outside of costume. Like, dude HAS to go outside as himself at least every once in a while, out of pure necessity. How do you think he goes on about it?

Aw, thank you, I'm glad you like my blog interface and my fic. I think it depends on how much he's progressed in processing his trauma, to be honest!

I imagine when he first moved back in Gotham, he avoided going out as much as possible, for a multitude of reasons. First, because he was still reeling emotionally from Bruce enacting project Knightfall (aka faking his own death), he was recovering from the injuries he sustained during the events of Arkham Knight (and of course, the injuries he got from the Joker). Most importantly, he is adjusting to living in a city he once hated enough to want to destroy.

I feel like those first few weeks were painful for him. Every place is filled memories, and while not all of them are bad memories, they often feel too painful to revisit. He likely spent most of his time cooped up in a safehouse (which was established as something he makes no effort to make comfortable), only going out when he absolutely had to. Interacting with the city and its people as little as possible. While I don't think the Joker ever meant him to survive his torture, the amount of scars and physical injuries he bears means that a lot of his interactions bring a lot of (misplaced) guilt and shame. Did that shopkeep spend too long looking at his face, his scar? Maybe he'll pass by some hole-in-the-wall shop and remember that he and Dick and Barbara would cool down there after patrols. The ramen, he'll think, is surprisingly good. The owner is a smiling, heavyset man who insists that they never pay for their meals. Maybe he'll even take a single step toward the shop, only to remember that the scars on his hands make it so it's hard to hold cutlery without shaking. That there are days when it's physically painful to eat. And he'll shake his head and walk away.

But I think the more he interacts with PG in the story and the more he fixes his relationship with his family, the more he'll be able to interact with Gotham City. Maybe going to the grocery won't be treated like a military supply run. Maybe he'll look up from his carefully-curated list and realize a type of candy Barbara used to be obsessed with is back in stock now. Maybe he'll put it in his cart, and for the first time in a while, he doesn't have to think about what he did to her as the Arkham Knight. One day, he'll wake up before his alarm and remember that you used to talk about watching the sun rise over Gotham Bay. He'll take a long walk along the shoreline and watch the way the sky turns into soft shades of pink and orange, and he'll be surprised at the realization that there are still beautiful things in Gotham. Maybe your face will flash in his mind, and he'll think that perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised, after all. Maybe one day, after a long night of patrol, he'll pass by the ramen shop again and this time, he decides to stay. The only thing that has changed is the owner, who's gained weight and a few gray hairs, but his smile is still the same. He'll bring Jason's order without asking, and he'll insist that he doesn't have to pay for it. Eating doesn't hurt as much as he feared. In fact, some days, he can move his hands without feeling pain. This is one of the good days. Maybe on that good day, he'll be surprised to find that the ramen is still good. That he can think of the days he used to stay here with his family after patrols, exchanging combat tips and juicy bits of gossip. And this time, he's able to smile.

[incorrectbatfam]

Can we get some gooner hcs?

You guys are really into this, aren't you?

I guess since I created the characters this would technically be their canon? Even though they're in the Gotham universe? Idk let's call it Schrodinger's Canon

Anyway, some basic tidbits I came up with:

When they're not doing crime, they hang out together sitcom style—usually at Rob's apartment in Burnside. He regrets telling them where the spare key is

Milo lives with Rob and the twins full-time because the alternative is letting him wander the streets as a minor. Rob is a criminal anyway so might as well harbor a teenage runaway while he's at it. The verdict is still out on whether Milo's just a tenant or if there's a familial relationship slowly forming

Gene also doesn't have his own house. He stays with Rob about half the time and the other half he stays with Otto or occasionally his ex-wife. The latter two live in Crime Alley so Gene prefers Rob's place

Blaise got kicked out by his parents for being a stoner. He lives in Milo's car in the parking lot behind Rob's apartment when the car isn't being used for missions. Mac is similar—he has an apartment but spends so much time in his ice cream surveillance truck that he keeps spare clothes and a sleeping bag there

Kellin made a decent amount in their hired killer days and has a few safehouses around Gotham and Metropolis. Their assassin paranoia keeps them cycling between places

Kellin also occasionally sleeps over at Booker's dorm at Gotham U. He's been getting them caught up on pop culture since they fell a few years behind

Otto is the only one trusted to babysit Jackie and Gunner. He might look like a grinch on the outside but he enjoys being around children

Gene invents new prototypes and Otto tests them behind his repair shop before giving feedback. If it involves chemistry, Molly will also give her input

Booker is the chaotic academic who turns every wall he sees into a detective board and often gets the right solution with the wrong formula

Ironically, Milo doesn't like racing video games and Grand Theft Auto. He thinks they're not nearly as exciting as the real thing

Molly and Blaise have feelings for each other but every time they try to get together the universe finds some way to stop them—bad timing, other people, and once a family of hungry raccoons

Gene unofficially coined the comedic physics that follow them as "the Looney Toons force"

The only ones not affected are the twins. Milo isn't affected as much compared to the adults too

Molly is a massive Gotham City Sirens fangirl. Sometimes, to get new ideas for her chemicals, she'll walk through Ivy's latest crime scene to see if she can use anything plant-based

Kellin swears the most but they do it in Thai because this is a PG-13 program

[acradelius]

Good morning or Good evening ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ , can I request a Moira O'Deorain x Fem!Reader? , where the reader is kidnapped and violent things happen but she comes to our rescue so brave and concerned? thank yoooooouuuu ♡♡♡♡♡

"I'm Here Now, Coinín"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Moira O'Deorain x Gender Neutral! Reader

Rating: Lime [🟢] - (Equivalent to PG-13)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Established Relationship, Female x Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them Pronouns For Reader, "Lost Puppy/Blind Follower"! Reader If You Squint, Kidnapping, Mention of Interrogation, Mention of Pharmacological Interrogation/Torture/Methods, Forced Drug Usage, Mentions Of Broken Bones, Mention Of Deprivation Of Senses, Mentions Of Waterboarding, Caring/Gentle! Moira, Slight Praise.

Word Count: 951 Words

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

Whether it would be traversing throughout the nine layers of Hell itself or going on what is hoped to be a simplistic shopping trip to the local farmer’s market, they could be found directly by her side. It could be labeled as a suicide mission with a ninety-nine percent chance of not making it back alive or sitting next to each other on the couch in the laboratory office, they could still be found directly by her side. It was quite obvious that it didn't matter the location or the situation, (Y/N) could always be found directly by Moira’s side. Therefore, when Moira had left the disappointment that she called Overwatch, (Y/N) uprooted themselves and followed her into the hands of Talon without any questions or hesitations.

Yet, being a part of Talon’s inner council meant that there were some things that had to be discussed or dealt with where only Moira could attend, having to leave (Y/N) alone for the night to entertain themselves until Moira was to get back. “The less people that are aware of the situation, the less danger that you will be in, my Coinín,” Moira would respond when having been asked by (Y/N) why they couldn’t attend as well. Typically that would mean that they would have to entertain themselves within the comforts of one of the many safehouses that Talon occupied, but (Y/N) was feeling more adventurous, deciding to spend the night exploring the city. Unfortunately, the night didn’t end as (Y/N) would’ve expected, and ended up getting captured by some former Overwatch operators to be interrogated for information about Talon and their next plans of operation.

How long has it been since that night? How long has it been since (Y/N) had been snatched away from their late night stroll around the city to pass the time until Moira was to come back home? These Overwatch operators, some of them being former coworkers and former companions, refused to tell (Y/N). It didn’t help that the interrogation and the increasingly violent methods that they were using in an attempt to extract information was making it seem as if time was going by ever so slowly, but that was also a part of the methods as well. Each different person brought in to interrogate (Y/N) had various methods to use, some more dangerous and risky than the others, but they all knew that they couldn’t just outright kill (Y/N) as a final tactic.

Using pharmacological torture upon them and trying to pry information while (Y/N)’s in a drugged out haze, breaking bones varying from fingers and toes to an arm and a leg, trying to deprive them of their senses to where they could only focus on the darkness and the pain but forcing (Y/N) to stay awake to endure it all. Now they are attempting to force (Y/N) to submit and give them the information that they’re seeking through waterboarding, listening as the former member coughs out and gasps for air through the drenched cloth on their face. While there’s an expectation of that extremely cold water to attempt to suffocate them once again, that expectation never comes. There’s some slight confusion, a slight jolt from (Y/N) as there’s fingers frantically brushing across their skin, beginning to pull at the binds that hold them down to the chair and the items that were used to deprive (Y/N) of their senses.

It takes some moments for some stability to come to (Y/N) from being disoriented by the sudden rush of their senses coming back to them, grunting slightly while scrunching their eyes closed at the blinding light that surrounds them. There’s a voice, a voice that’s recognizable but between the blaring alarms, the undeniable sounds of fighting taking place within the background, it’s hard to make out what exactly is being said. “..M-Moira..?” Moia’s name slips past (Y/N)’s lips in a soft whisper while lifting their head in order to look at the person, and being confirmed that’s exactly who it was. “Don’t you worry, little Coinín. I’ll be taking you back home, making sure that you get the best treatment.” Typically being calm outwardly, it doesn’t take much for (Y/N) to know that internally Moira’s panicking, concerned about the amount of damage that’s been done, but she continues to hold her head up high and deal with the occasional enemy that crosses her path as she proceeds to carry (Y/N) to the dropship for evacuation.

“..Are you absolutely sure that you’re not in need of anything to eat or drink? Maybe even just a couple more pain killers to dull the pain some more?” Moira questions her injured partner within her arms once they make it into the dropship and settle into some seats. Despite that there’s the fabrication of giving life and taking life at Moira’s hands, their gentle as they caress (Y/N)’s cheeks, gentle brushing across their skin to access damages, Moira healing what she can of (Y/N)’s body at that moment. There’s a smile upon (Y/N)’s lips as they shake their head in response to Moira’s question, struggling to keep their eyes open due to the physical and mental exhaustion they were dealing with. “You’re doing well, you know that? Doing so well, I’m so proud of you for holding out as long as you did despite what they’ve done to you.” There’s a smile that graces Moira’s lips, a rare occurrence, before she leans down and places a gentle kiss upon (Y/N)’s forehead, running her fingers through their hair. “ Now, rest.”

[purplesong1028]

The Perfect Storm

Chapter 6: The Tug

Miguel brings Pacho to his apartment in Tijuana, and has a full-on crisis before hooking up.

Rating: PG 13

Paring: Pacho/Miguel

Words: 2,077

The maid looks surprised and slightly nervous when she opens the door for them. Maybe she simply didn’t anticipate him to be here, or maybe she was doing things she shouldn’t be doing at his apartment. If this was another time, maybe Miguel would have cared more, but tonight, the Colombian behind him, closer than necessary, he just dismisses her and tells her to come back tomorrow evening.

Pacho leans back against the closed door and crosses his arms, head slightly tilted to the side, an intriguing mix of interest and challenge. “Tomorrow evening? That’s a generous amount of time.”

Miguel avoids Pacho’s amused gaze without thinking, but then forces himself to meet the other man’s eyes again. His palms feel a little wet, but he resists the urge to wipe them on his blazer.

“Do you want another drink?” He walks to the bar. That’s always a safe choice.

“No.” The smooth voice is right behind his shoulder, hot breath brushing the side of his neck.

He jumps and turns around. The next second, a pair of soft lips covers his.

Miguel hears himself making a surprised sound, but his heartbeats are way louder. His eyes are still open, and every tiny detail on Pacho’s face becomes alive from memory, from thick eyelashes to sharp cheekbones, still too fresh to be buried despite his best efforts.

The tip of a tongue touches his mouth, tentative and teasing, irresistibly delicious. He feels his own lips part as his eyes close, like a magic switch in his brain was flipped open, past memories and present reality mixed into one mesmerizing sensation.

The muscles on his back slowly relax against the bar, waist gently pressed against the smooth edge of marble.

He hears a chuckle, and then the tongue pulls away, not forgetting to give his lips another playful lick. He leans forward to chase it before he could stop himself.

“You know, you could have just told me you missed me.” Pacho presses their foreheads together, skillful fingers working a button open on his shirt.

Just one, just enough to expose his collarbones so the Colombian can ruthlessly sink his teeth in them.

A pained groan escapes his throat. Miguel grabs a handful of Pacho’s smooth hair and yanks hard. The other man surprisingly doesn’t fight him, seemingly satisfied to leave his neck alone after making a quick mark.

“What the fuck was that?!” He hisses as he touches the bright red bite mark on his body.

Pacho shrugs. It’s fucking unfair to still look that good when his hair is all messed up. “You didn’t mind a little bit of pain last time.”

Last time, Pacho bit his neck just like that, and he squeezed Pacho’s dick in response, the hot flesh throbbing in his palm…

Miguel doesn’t know how his face betrayed him, but the smirk on Pacho’s face grows increasingly more pleased.

“Come on then. Show me the bedroom.”

*

Miguel is honestly impressed at himself for finding a bedroom on his first try, since he has completely forgotten what this penthouse looks like. Maybe this isn’t the master bedroom, he can’t tell, but it looks big enough and has a full bathroom attached to it, so that’s good for tonight.

Pacho takes a quick glance around, eyes lingering on the king-sized bed. “Do the Arellanos know about this place?”

Miguel feels like he’s just been splashed by cold water, his body and mind coming to a halt at the potential dire threat.

Do they? He has never brought any of them here or told them about it, but this isn’t a safehouse, just a regular property, so it’s possible that Benjamín already found out about its existence.

What if someone has been in here before? What if there are cameras?!

No. That’s extremely unlikely. He has security here, and he has eyes in Tijuana too. Benjamín wouldn’t dare…even he hasn’t done anything like that to the Arellano’s properties in Guadalajara.

“Miguel.” Pacho calls him again, now in a serious demeanor like they’re in a business meeting, as if the new bite mark under his shirt doesn’t exist. “This is your place. I’m asking you: does anyone know?”

He should call it off. He hasn’t been here in years. How can he be sure? If this place isn’t secure…fuck, he doesn’t even want to imagine. However, admitting that in front of Pacho would mean he doesn’t trust his own security system in Mexico, that he can’t even feel protected in his own house. What does that say about him? What would Cali think?

“This is a secure location. No one’s listening.” He speaks before he runs out of time. If he takes too long to answer, it doesn’t matter what he says. He will just have to do a complete security check tomorrow, and hopefully he won’t find anything. But if he does, he’ll smash whatever he finds as well as the people who put them in here.

Pacho leans sideways on the dresser, eyes narrowed, clearly trying to figure out if he’s really as confident as he sounds.

“There are people living downstairs though.” Miguel shrugs, making it seem like he was hesitating for other reasons. “You know, regular people with ears.”

Pacho snorts, but his posture relaxes. “So? Do you plan to scream?”

Miguel feels his heart just hit his throat. He swallows it back down. “Do you?”

“Guess I won’t be able to.” Pacho pushes himself up from the dresser, and slowly paces to the bed. “What a shame.”

Miguel watches him take off his watch and place it on the nightstand. This is nothing. Pacho isn’t even showing any skin besides the already half-exposed chest. Yet somehow it feels more alluring than a model stripping down to her lingeries.

Meeting his eyes, Pacho then slips the ring off his finger, slow enough for Miguel to take a close look at those long fingers and remember how they felt against his body last time.

He feels his breath becoming faster, his blood starting to rush down. Should he do something? Who undressed first last time? Fuck, why can’t he remember anything when he needs it the most?

“Settle down. We have until tomorrow evening, remember?” Pacho takes off his necklace with the large golden cross. The metal touches the wooden nightstand, making a brisk sound. Then he smiles at Miguel, almost in a comforting way, but there’s only tease and enjoyment in his eyes. “Where are your manners? At least let your guest take a shower first.”

*

Miguel paces on the soft carpet, listening to the sound of water running. It hasn’t even been ten minutes, but it already feels unbearably long. He wants Pacho to come out right now so they can get on with…whatever they will do this time. Anything is better than waiting for something to happen.

His forehead starts to sweat, so he takes off his expensive blazer and throws it over the back of a chair.

Should he take more clothes off? He imagines the Colombian coming out of the bathroom wearing only a bathrobe, or a towel. Wouldn’t it be weird if he’s still fully dressed?

Suddenly he feels embarrassingly unprepared. He never bothered with those questions before. The women he paid for were willing to do all the work, whatever he wanted at the moment, undressing him slowly while leaving a trail of kisses, or simply unbuttoning his pants and going straight to business.

Would Pacho be willing to do the same? From what he could tell, the other man actually quite enjoyed taking initiative last time, but that thought doesn’t relax him at all. If anything, it makes him even more restless now.

He hears the bathroom door open.

He takes a deep breath and turns around.

Pacho walks out wearing a white bathrobe, hair still wet, tanned skin slightly flushed with heat. Miguel swallows, feeling his own cheeks turning hot. The robe isn’t even short, but this is still the most he’s ever seen from Pacho, since he couldn’t see anything last time.

Pacho walks to the bed and sits down comfortably. Miguel can’t see from this angle, but he just knows there’s nothing underneath that robe between Pacho’s legs.

“Are you always this nervous?” Pacho turns to meet his eyes with a smirk, a strand of wet hair falling on his forehead. “Doesn’t seem to fit your reputation.”

“Hard to match your reputation.”

It was meant to be a mild insult, but came out more like a compliment.

Pacho just shrugs. “Well, you better start practicing then.”

If he needed more provocation before, that definitely did the job. He strides towards the bed before he can think it through, and before he knows it, their lips meet again, his knee pushed between Pacho’s naked legs, his fingers intertwined in Pacho’s hair.

The familiar taste of alcohol and cigarettes is gone, replaced by a pleasant minty flavor, refreshing and natural, an enticing contrast.

Miguel deepens the kiss, shoving his tongue into the other man’s mouth while pressing his knee harder into the vulnerable flesh, feeling it harden against him. He expected Pacho would fight him, not used to being in a passive position, but the Colombian doesn’t appear to be bothered by his slight aggression at all. If anything, Pacho seems rather pleased by his eagerness, gently rocking against him, setting up a comfortable rhythm.

His shirt gets unbuttoned one by one, warm fingertips brushing his bare skin, from neck to chest, to abdomen, and further down…

He grabs Pacho’s hand before it reaches for his belt buckle.

Pacho breaks away from the kiss, blinking up at him with a questioning look. From this angle, he almost looks harmless, if Miguel can ignore the clear tease and desire in his eyes.

He hurries to unbuckle his own belt and slip out of his pants before one of the thousand reasons in his brain can stop him. Pacho doesn’t waste one second to reach for his dick as soon as it touches air.

It’s a little scary how he feels himself instantly growing larger in these warm, calloused hands. “Wow, you must have really missed me.” Pacho huffs, “what, getting tired of your beautiful young wife already?”

Miguel doesn’t talk about his wife while having sex with others. He knows some men like to complain about their boring wives at home while fucking some exciting new lover, but he’s never done that.

There was nothing to complain about María. She didn’t believe him when he told her that, which was understandable. He didn’t even know how to explain it to himself.

With Daniella, there’s also nothing to complain about, because he doesn’t really expect anything from her, so what can he possibly be unhappy about?

“You know it’s different.” He tells Pacho.

Pacho smiles and pulls him closer, pressing their hard desires tightly together. “Well, I would hope so.”

Miguel shrugs off his open shirt and moves them further up the bed, having no interest to continue this conversation. A sense of raw hungriness flashes across Pacho’s face as the Colombian sees his naked body, and Miguel feels like he’s about to burn up under Pacho’s unmasked desire.

A desire for his bare body and nothing else.

Many people might find that demeaning, but not him. Having someone want him like that, even if that someone is Pacho, makes his heart flutter in a way that it hasn’t done in years, sending a rush of tickling warmth through his whole body.

His face must have betrayed him somehow, because the next second, a hand reaches the back of his scalp and pushes him down, crushing their lips back together.

Miguel lets out a satisfied moan, his face tingles as Pacho takes the lead with that infuriatingly talented tongue. Seriously, how can anyone be this good at kissing?!

Miguel grabs Pacho’s shoulders and presses him into the soft mattress, and then slowly traces down along his strong arms, reaching for the hands.

With his heated brain, Miguel briefly considers pining both Pacho’s hands above his head, but then quickly realizes that’s not possible without a fight, a fight that he probably can’t win. So he settles with just holding them, a much more gentle gesture than he intended.

Pacho smiles against his lips, and then licks his cheek, playfully nudging his neck.

“Which way do you want it?”

And just like that, his mind goes blank again.

@naeviaanoai @mandaloria314 @ashlingiswriting @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @anunhealthydoseofangst @dashavau @drabbles-mc @sikkui @artemiseamoon (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off this list.)

[multistanisms]

Let Our Circle Be Unbroken;  Prologue | NCT

FANDOM: NCT

PAIRING: Jaehyun x Taeyong, Yuta x OC

WORD COUNT: 1,703

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: Mentions of violence, blood, pain, animal death

SUMMARY:  Surviving a near death experience comes with a lot of surprises when warlock Jeong Jaehyun finds a dragon in a place that holds tragic memories for him. Nothing is as whirlwind, though, as when Jaehyun begins to meet the little clan of misfits Taeyong has gathered over the years and a mystery is revealed.

Author Notes: Reposting this from my archived blog to update the links [cuz I do not remember how to log into my old fic blog]

Previous || Masterlist || Next

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‘Shit. This is bad. Really bad.’ Jaehyun thought as he ran. His magic enabled him to carry an unnatural speed in his rush, but the blood seeping from his side was an impending sign of how quickly he could lose consciousness if he wasn’t careful. He could hear the hunters, however, so stopping was not a viable option. The small group was far enough out of reach to not make a direct hit on him with their weapons but still close enough to hear their hounds and shouts. Humans with little more than fear and a prejudice against those who were different. Jaehyun was no fool to think he was immune to the tragedy of the human mind; he’d lived long enough to know better. No one who was born supernatural - even humans who happened to have a supernatural ancestor and ended up gifted - could escape being the object of human failure. 

This, though, was by far the closest in centuries the warlock had felt close to death. Even his magic was waning, losing it’s precision as his vision began to blur and darken at the edges. ‘Fuck, I’m running out of time.’ The thought hit him harder than a swift punch to the stomach or an unexpected kick to the nether region, and the warlock dove into the shadows of a nearby alley, cloaking himself. A swift escape was of utmost importance if he planned on surviving the wound in his side and keeping his eyes; the thing Jaehyun knew they would take as a trophy from his death. Dark hair was caked with sweat and Jaehyun is glaringly aware that he needs to focus on escaping or he may not make it to see the sunrise. His manor isn’t safe anymore, he knows that. If they could flush him out from his café, they no doubt knew where his home was. His other properties were currently being used as safehouses, and Jaehyun was in no way going to kickstart any stress or shock to those guests. A shaky breath shook Jaehyun’s body as he closed his eyes, glamour falling. As he looked up at the sky, he opened his eyes, revealing reptilian green irises accented by rainbow slits. His glamour wasn’t a priority compared to the situation he was in. A breath taken too hard made him wince as he leaned his head back against the dark grey terracotta wall.

‘Damn it, Jaehyun, think.’ he scolds himself, hand pressing to the gunshot wound in his side. ‘Think, think, think. Somewhere. There has to be somewhere.’ 

He’s jolted back to reality viciously when the renewed sounds of baying from the dogs is suddenly much closer. Large hunting breeds, vicious when they find their intended target. Fear riddles through Jaehyun’s blood like a discarded cigar on gasoline, and there’s a sudden flash through his mind. The answer is a risk, and there are so many emotions that bubble through his heart, but escape is at his grasp and he isn’t going to squander it because of a past he’d rather forget. Hope blooms to simmer down some of the fear, and his eyes ripple to life, glamour and natural color fighting as he brings the necessary casting rune to the forefront of his mind. He knows he has one, maybe two or an even slimmer three chances at this before he completely loses consciousness from the blood and he’s killed by fangs and crossbows alike. He traces the rune over the concrete, begging for it to work. Uneven breath halts when the magic fizzles and dies, leaving a pale shape on the cement. ‘No. Damn it to hell.’ he thought, frantically scribbling the rune on the cold pavement again. ‘Not here. Not like this. Please, no.’ Every fiber of his being was focused between panic and the need to escape. The rune fizzles at the edges and Jaehyun’s heart begins dropping before the magic sticks and the rune changes shape into the round portal that offers him escape. He moved to toss himself through the hole when his relief was cut short. A loud growl and sharp pain exploded over his arm as one of the dogs located him. With a yelp, Jaehyun’s balance was lost and he fell into the space, dragging the canine with him into the brief abyss before he crashed into a table on a large porch that gave way. 

Air left him in a rush and a weak groan, the overall pain finally making it almost impossible to stay awake. The dog released his arm and went to find purchase elsewhere when something snatched it up, and Jaehyun was vaguely aware of potential danger when he heard the brief scuffle of his predator becoming prey instead. Danger. The manor in the field wasn’t safe, either, it seemed. His vision was nearly completely black at this point, all he was aware of was black and rainbow dancing before him as unconsciousness took him hostage. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dragons had long faded from the forefront of the minds of the normal humans, but it wasn’t so simple as they had died off or been killed. Most had merely learned to stay in their human forms when among the masses, clans separated into smaller numbers to keep the species safe. Lee Taeyong was the youngest of the small sect from his clan, and the first to leave to find a clan of his own. His older sister, Areum, and their parents supported the choice, knowing full well that Taeyong had never really been able to be happy among only dragons. 

“Something else calls to you, little brother. You have to follow that to find your happiness.” Areum had told him as he had prepared to leave. IT was an emotional goodbye, but somehow, Taeyong knew he was heading into great things. 

And so the young dragon had gone off, found a clan of his own, and though the ranks weren’t large, the overall species was well mixed. And sometimes the clan had their own business to attend to, which was how Taeyong had found himself wandering the world, looking for a kind of vacation home for when the clan could reunite under one roof again. He had found one and had been working on remodeling and repairing it. The walls had all come down at their own pace, and the dragon had replaced them all and brought the house back to a lovely splendor. The high, covered wrap around porch was carefully set with a few swings, tables and chairs. Various plants were hung from the edge of the covering, a few potted plants settled among the railing around the porch. What had been an abandoned mansion that felt tragic and hopeless had started changing into a loving space. There was no furniture, but that would come in time. For now, the most important part was complete. The building was ready for it’s first bout of excitement when the clan gathered, and Taeyong was happy to think of that as he sat on the porch swing near the front door with a hot cup of tea as he watched the fall leaves drift about on the wind. His dream of making the property a home was almost done. A large garden ran along the west side of the mansion, a flower garden with a large pond and gazebo just north of the back entrance of the house. Imagining the fun and laughter that would one day be had made him content and he was humming softly to himself when there was a ripple of magic that pricked at his senses and made the hair on his arms stand up, goosebumps tracing up pale skin even under the soft, warm fabric of his favorite hoodie. Said goosebumps shivered briefly into black and rainbow colored scales that faded faster than they appeared. 

Curious, Taeyong reached to set his cup on the side table next to the swing, standing to walk down the porch steps and look around, hand resting on the large picnic table settled onto a large stone garden setup he had made for au fresco dining. Face contorted in confusion, he hummed curiously, moving to turn back when the magic came back in a much stronger wave, and Taeyong shifted out of protective instinct. The strong scent of coppery blood hit his nose first, then a loud crash and growling. When the intruding creature realized there was someone else, it released its prey to charge at Taeyong, only to wind up eaten by the large dragon. Tension still in his muscles, he turned his attention to the now destroyed table. The tabletop itself was surprisingly intact, the legs, however, would need to be remade. Now, though, with the immediate threat out of the way, the dragon brought himself closer to the scent of blood to better investigate. What he found was startling for him. The male was unconscious and very hurt, and despite the wounds and ragged breathing, Taeyong could see the male was beautiful. Magic was a palpable taste in the air, telling Taeyong the young man was likely a warlock or witch. What struck the dragon as odd was the intense need to save the other. 

Shifting back into human form, he lifted the other with ease, forgetting about the blood around his mouth and on his clothes as he carried the male into the mansion and laid him on the couch. “Where did you come from, beautiful?” he asked, looking over what he could to assess the damage. Blood had dried the male’s clothing to his skin, and there was a chunk of the man’s arm from the animal biting him. It was a lot to patch up for just one dragon, so Taeyong made a choice as he wrapped the dark blanket he’d been using around the unknown male. He walked to the porch to grab his phone, dialing a number as he knelt by the couch to brush his hand through the dark hair of the hurt man. When the other side fo the line picked up, Taeyong smiled. 

“Hey there, handsome. Are you and Arashi free? I need some serious help and your girl has the best magic to do so.”

[phogatpg]

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[safehousegirlpg]

Experience the Pinnacle of Living at Luxury PG in Gurgaon.

Welcome to The Safehouse PG, where you can experience the pinnacle of living at our luxury PG in Gurgaon. Our elegantly designed and fully furnished rooms offer a comfortable stay with amenities such as high-speed Wi-Fi, housekeeping services, 24/7 security, and more. Elevate your lifestyle with us at Safehouse PG.

[daylight-boyy]

Not housing/London related but electric kettles! Read so many fan works where the characters are using a stovetop kettle or a saucepan to heat water for tea (one time even read a line where they just put mugs of water in the microwave), but realistically they'd just have an electric kettle. They probably wouldn't even have a gas hob/stovetop in the break room - just a microwave for soup/leftovers/whatever, a kettle, and maybe a toaster

I feel like the exception could be the safehouse, where it's possible that there's just a battered camping kettle stuffed in the back of a cupboard rather than anything more expensive, but that's just our interpretation so do whatever, go nuts

And please note that they probably don't have any fancy teas in the archives, just english breakfast tea/black tea, which is probably either Yorkshire tea or PG tips if you're looking for a specific brand name to use :)

How Do British People: A smol guide to TMA fanworks

because I feel like most american TMA fans would like to have this information for their fanworks (and because my pet peeve is seeing inaccurate information in said fanworks) here’s some facts about London/England/United Kingdom that you should keep in mind when writing fanfics, creating headcanons, or drawing fanart for The Magnus Archives:

People in low-mid tier jobs in London (like, say, archival assistants) don’t own cars because they 1) wouldn’t be able to afford parking near work and 2) it makes no sense to drive in London, let alone drive to work;

On that same note, The Magnus Institute is a small historical manor located near the Thames, and thus it would not have any sort of parking lot for employees;

Affordable studio/one bedroom flats are either tiny or extremely far from the city centre, so it’s highly unlikely that Jon or any of his assistants would live by themselves in a flat that has a guest bedroom (this is your chance to use and abuse of the trope “there was just the one bed!” fellas);

To the three points above, my suggestion is to think of London like you’d think about NYC, except people often take buses to work instead of the tube;

Lots of people in England own inflatable mattresses or pull-out couches, just in case someone’s staying over;

On a pinch, meal deals (a drink, a snack (usually a bag of chips) and a sandwich) are the go-to meal if you’re on a hurry or just feeling lazy to get anything else. Tesco is a mid-low tier supermarket that can be found virtually anywhere in the UK, so it’s common for people to go to the nearest Tesco for meal deals;

During spring and summer, on nice sunny days, British people flock to parks and sit down on the grass to enjoy the sun during lunch breaks and weekends. Imagine Central Park, except any free patch of green grass (which London has quite a lot of) is basically Free Real Estate;

Healthcare, aka the NHS, is free, so if needed ambulances can be called guilt-free in case of medical emergencies, and reoccurring prescriptions are sent directly to your pharmacy of choice and you just need to go pick it up by providing your name and date of birth, easy peasy lemon squeezy;

In big cities like London there are a lot of apartments in modern apartment buildings, but because those are fairly new they’re usually on the expensive side, so what you’ll mostly find are flats, which is basically a unit inside a townhouse that’s been split into several units. And these buildings are usually old and, if you get a shit landlord, not well-maintained or insulated, so yeah.

Source: I live in England, have visited London several times, and my best friend of 9 years is British. I also did an extensive search for flats in London when I was job searching (fun fact: ended up not moving to London because Fuck That Noise! London I love you to bits but damn. damn.)

you obviously can ignore all of this if you want and keep creating your fanworks any way you like, but I know that other british people also find these sort of small inaccuracies a bit annoying, and I know that my american friends who didn’t know of these things were glad to learn about them, so yeah! I’m not here to shame anyone into doing my bidding or anything, so take these as they are: information and, most of all, suggestions.

feel free to add to this post if anyone thinks of anything else!

[thesafehousepg]

Are you Looking For a PG Hostel in Sector 38, Sohna Road Gurgaon? The Safehousepg provides furnished rooms with attached bathroom and free Wi-fi.

[drarryficrecs]

Hi! Do you have good roommates fic recs that aren’t eight year AUs?

● The Claiming Of Grimmauld Place by bixgirl1. Rated Explicit, word count 74k.

When Grimmauld Place begins fighting against Harry’s ownership of it, he decides he needs help to train the historic home — but little does he expect that it’ll be Malfoy who’s most suitable for the challenge. However, as Malfoy and Harry get closer, Harry comes to understand that expectations aren’t always the best path by which to guide his heart — and in the process learns just what is needed to make a house a home.

● (The Piece) I Was Missing All Along by lauren3210. Rated Explicit, word count 30k.

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

● Room Mating by QueenyMidas. Rated Explicit, word count 6k.

Harry and Draco are roommates after Hogwarts, having forged an unlikely friendship. However, after a night of Draco going through his exes to try and figure out where he’s gone wrong in his romantic life, he comes to discover that he could want more than friendship with The Boy Who Lived.

● Strange Bedfellows by treacle_tartlet. Rated PG, word count 6k.

Harry and Draco are living together at Grimmauld Place, because of reasons. Stuff happens. Look, just read the fic, okay?

● All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl. Rated M, word count 61k.

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

● The More Loving One by StacPolly. Rated M, word count 44k. (This is All Must Draw Near, written from Draco's POV.)

He knows what it looks like, two men, living and working together, but they are doing absolutely fine as they are, thank you very much. However, there's no smoke without fire, as the boys are about to discover.

● This Feeling Inside by Andithiel. Rated M, word count 8k.

Harry Potter and his flatmate Draco are both straight as nails. But during a lockdown, things start to get a little desperate, and suddenly they’re giving each other friendly handjobs and blowjobs on the regular. But that’s okay. That’s just what friends do. Right?

A story about two oblivious idiots, told through the diary of Harry James Potter.

● The Danger Within by Justlikewriting. Rated M, word count 23k.

Harry knew it would be difficult the very moment he realised who he was going to be cooped up with. In a safehouse. For what could be weeks, or months, or even longer. But he also knew that - especially since the bite - he was probably the best Auror for the job. And Draco deserved that.

Furthermore, it had been four years: they should be able to make this work.

● A Wish and a Wardstone by vivi1138. Rated Explicit, word count 26k.

Draco makes a wish and it has unexpected consequences.

A fluffy winter tale filled with hot drinks, warm blankets, and cuddles.

[gorogues]

Fictober 2022

Prompt number #20 Fanfiction Fandom: Flash Rogues Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Profanity.

Day Twenty: “There’s only us.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d seen a Multiversal threat.  But it was the first time they’d decided to step up.

“So you all know the deal,” Len began.  “Some fucked-up interdimensional demon things are running loose all over the world, and when they grab hold of you and stare into your eyes, you turn into one of them.  The ‘heroes’ are trying to stop them at their source, so the cities are left unprotected and it’s up to the rest of us to keep `em from burning.”

“Still think we should let it burn,” Mick said sullenly, though everyone ignored him.

“Nobody’s obliged to help,” Len reminded the assembled Rogues.  “Anyone who wants to hide, escape, or go on a crime spree is free to do so without judgment.  But the rest of us are gonna keep the peace in the Twin Cities.  Any questions?”

“What happens if one of us gets turned?” Lisa asked, and Len looked deeply pained.  He was imagining it happening to her.

“Let’s hope it never comes to that,” was all he could say, turning away so the others couldn’t see the worry on his face.  He checked his watch, which provided an opportunity to distract himself from those thoughts.  “Mardon and Dillon are due back with scouting reports in two minutes.”

Mark and Roscoe returned separately within the next few minutes, both looking tired and haggard.

“It’s bad out there,” Mark said quietly, shaking his head.  “Lotta demons.”

“And they’re converting people all the time,” Roscoe added.  “Civilians try to make a run for it, but are easily caught and turned.  I paused on the ground for a moment and one of the demons grabbed hold of my hand, but fortunately I was able to spin away.” 

He held up his palm and there was a moderately sized scorch mark on it, prompting Lisa to begin fussing over him.

“So we got our work cut out for us,” Len concluded grimly.  “Any guesses on how many demons are in the two cities right now?”

“Somewhere between seven and twelve thousand, and their numbers are growing all the time,” Mark replied, and Roscoe nodded in agreement.  Both were taking advantage of the rare opportunity to rest while they could.

“Okay then.  Are the stockpiles ready?”

“Every working weapon is here or in one of the supply depots, ready for action,” Hartley confirmed, holding up his inventory sheet.  “Sam’s readied the medical and food supplies here and in the other safehouses, so we can eat, sleep, and get patched up if there’s an injury.”

“I’ve already prepared the plans for feeding and sheltering civilians,” James said.

“Then I guess it’s time to head out.  You all know what you need to do, and where the other hideouts are.  Let’s go protect the cities,” Len announced calmly.

And they stepped out into new territory.