#topical drug best prices

[snuurp]

introduction to the WORMS IN MY BRAIN jk this is a modern fantasy au for baldurs gate 3 plain text and more info under the cut

intro to the au, forewarning i haven't done much research, and my first playthrough of the game isn't done yet (I AM in act three tho I swear 2/3rds of the three guys r dealt with and so is cazador.) keep in mind i have no idea what i'm doing.

the mindflayer stuff is like. an experimental implant they all dubiously agreed to without all the info. extra enhancements (like the other tadpoles in game) are like drugs, and they appear once weekly at everyone's doors whether they want it or not. initial implant stabilizes Karlach's engine, helps with Astarion's vampire stuff, etc. etc. and the extras just feel good to use, it's addictive.

all of them are in a support group together meant to encourage them to stay clean from the extra tadpoles. time they've spent with the group varies.

there WILL be more detailed posts for them later, i have a lot of thoughts on Karlach and Wyll especially. implied/possible shadowzel and wyllstarion. my tav will be present, this is very self indulgent and i am in lesbians with Karlach.

plain text for images:

KARLACH

6'11" - 7'

construction worker.

her first job was disastrous.

foreman Goretash pushed her into dangerous situations that she felt pressured to be in because she was the newbie.

things went wrong with the electrical on the job site, landing her in the hospital with a near-fatal heart problem.

but good* news! avernus co. offered her a mechanical heart for the low, low price of a ten year work contract! (strings attached.)

she's out of the contract now, and avernus co. is refusing to maintain her heart (and the other "upgrades" they gave her without consent.)

still in construction, unionized and a loud advocate for workers rights.

can't do caffeine. her coffee order is a creamy chocolate chill from TImothy Horthingtons.

favourite board game is ticket to ride or uno, surprisingly mean and competitive in games.

SHADOWHEART

5'6"

works at hot topic (emo)

just got out of the commune, full swing edgy phase and does NOT know how un-niche her music is yet (please don't tell her)(she might cry)

"adopted" by Shar's cult when she was little, doesn't remember much before or after that beyond what other members told her.

dissecting her faith.

roommates with Lae'zel. (they hate each other)

"roommates" with Lae'zel also. (they still hate each other) (kinda)

rps her fursona COOL CAT CHARACTER DO NOT STEAL online.

very afraid of wolves which does include sparkledogs and makes rp super difficult.

her favourite board game is catan or any ttrpg.

if asked, her coffee order is "black, like my tortured soul" but she actually gets a vanilla latte with extra syrup and sweet foam. (oat milk because regular makes her tummy hurt)

LAE'ZEL

5'7" and gods does she ever hold that extra inch over Shadowheart.

works as a personal trainer, her clients are scared of her which makes her VERY effective for the right people.

insults clients, perfectionist.

mommy issues x100

the creche has a very community/it takes a village style of raising but they do a really bad job.

she wants to be the BEST of her siblings, doesn't take failure well.

loves competitive solo sports, hiking, marathons, bouldering, boxing, etc. etc.

delights in pushing Shadowheart's buttons.

she doesn't drink coffee, her order is a smoothie.

willingly drinks the ones with kale like a CRAZY PERSON.

favourite board game is chess and while she is good at it she is a SORE loser.

WYLL

6'1"

used to work for avernus co. and now works a much quieter, mostly Mizora-free job at an elementary school.

the students favourite gym teacher.

estranged from his dad after a huge, explosive misunderstanding re: the very un-HR Mizora incident(s)

likes Go Fish and cribbage, but he's happy playing any board game the others suggest.

generally just happy to be here.

coffee of choice is an americano with a shot of apple cinnamon syrup.

loves knitting.

definitely not crushing on Astarion whaaat crazyyyy.....

his watch is from his dad. he looks at it when he misses him.

misses him a lot.

ASTARION

5'9"

former troubled teen kicked out by his rich parents.

Cazador was a "pastor" that took him under his wing and adopted him into his group home (for a price)

in debt to him now and can't outrun it.

has two jobs.

works at Olive Garden, HATES IT.

works at (insert coffee shop chain here) ALSO HATES IT.

somehow has a very popular aesthetic tumblr blog in the year of our lord 20XX

coffee order is an iced caramel latte (sometimes gets strawberry/cherry/raspberry syrup to make his pictures cooler)

his favourite board game is monopoly (he steals from the bank) but he DESPISES cheaters edition because that "takes all the fun out of it"

Wyll's feelings are mutual and he knows about them but he's too insecure to talk to Wyll about it (nerd)

GALE

5'11"

unemployed, formerly university librarian/professor.

is not over his ex, will not be over his ex for the foreseeable future.

eventually goes to a new university to teach tho.

zero rizz, this man uses mage hand to play wizard wonderwall while concentrating very hard and that makes him look constipated sorry Gale likers.

has a part time job at a Barnabus and Noblemans before going to the new university.

commissioned Wyll to make his sweater vest in affront-to-the-gods purple.

wrote some very prolific papers in the wizard community.

coffee order is matcha or a mocha

favourite board game is clue. he gets really into it.

[flowerandblood]

My Best Friend (1)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]

[warnings: mention of stalking]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

This series has a sequel under a different title, My Beloved Nymph, which you can read here: Part 1

_____

Aemond arrived at their house a little late, angry and discouraged. He had to drive the drunk and mumbling Aegon home again and reassure their mother, that he would be fine. He was tired of being his nanny. He slammed the car door shut and walked out of the driveway onto the porch of house. 

He knocked on the door. After a few moments he heard footsteps and the sound of a lock opening. It was opened by Klaus, a tall, handsome brunette with a slender face and brown eyes. He was the owner of the house and his longtime buissnes partner. He got him access to all kinds of booze - and more - to the club Aemond owned.

"Sorry, something stopped me." He said shortly as he entered.

Klaus just looked at him meaningfully.

"Aegon?"

Aemond didn't answer. His grimace was enough. He took off his leather jacket and hung it on the hanger. They went into the living room, where two other men were sitting - Albert and Criston. 

Aemond immediately shook hands with the second man - they had been on good terms for years, Criston was also a frequent visitor to his club. He shook Albert's hand as well, though not as much with joy. 

Albert was a slippery and unpredictable man. Aemond knew, that he had been trying to do business with the Mafia for years, and he preferred to stay away from such things. After a brief greeting, Aemond settled into one of the armchairs. 

Klaus offered him a drink and Aemond just nodded. The living room and kitchen were separated from each other only by a countertop. Following Klaus, he saw, that there was another person standing in the kitchen. 

The girl he saw was the younger sister of Klaus. Their eyes met. She smiled at him in greeting, and he nodded to her.

Y/N was still on University. He knew, that she was a designer and could draw. Sometimes she would sketch them from afar at one of their meetings, though she hid herself so well, that usually no one noticed. Aemond, though they had only exchanged a few sentences during their "acquaintance", was fond of her.

 She didn't seek constant attention and didn't bother them, unless something very urgent happened. She distanced herself from their affairs, knowing, that some things were better left out. 

Sometimes, when they drank too much and she came down to get a glass of water at night, Klaus would make fun of her and she would make him laugh and tease him. They were tossing some nonsense and rolling with laughter, causing Criston and Albert to laugh too. He envied their relationship.

Although he had a good relationship with his sister, Healena, they were never able to establish such a connection. They were both incredibly closed and distant. Y/N and Klaus were assertive and empathetic, mischievous in a comical way, but at the same time, somehow, affectionate. They reminded him in an unpleasant way of how broken his family was.

Y/N went upstairs and they started discussing business topics. Albert tried to get Aemond to take some "new" drugs from his mob colleagues, but he steadfastly refused. No amount of money or opportunity could force him to get into this shit. Most of all, he wanted Klaus to get him whiskey and vodka at a better price than before. 

They talked until late. Criston was the first to say goodbye, an hour later Albert left. Aemond also got up to slowly make his way home, but Klaus' voice stopped him.

"How is your father?"

Aemond stopped. He didn't know, if he wanted to discuss this. His mother tried to talk to him about it, but he didn't want to. Not with her. Klaus, however, was an outsider. Aemond sighed.

"Getting worse." He replied after a moment of silence. "He confuses my mother's name with his ex-wife."

Klaus was silent for a moment.

"Let's have another drink."

One drink turned into two, then three. Aemond was talking about Aegon and his father. About how when he opened the club, his father didn't go there once. About Aegon having a drinking and gambling problem. That he keeps bringing home new girls, much to his mother's despair.

He was surprised, that he was spilling all this, but Klaus was a good listener. He didn't interrupt him or lecture him. Occasionally he would comment on a sentence, but generally he looked at him with understanding. 

Aemond felt he had drunk too much. His ears were ringing and his head ached terribly. He rubbed his temple, closing his one eye.

"I should go home now." He said as he slowly got up from his chair. He felt dizzy and grabbed the fireplace mantle beside him.

"Oh, man, you're not going anywhere." Klaus laughed, supporting him by the arm. "Sleep on the couch. Tomorrow is Sunday, so you don't have to go anywhere in the morning anyway."

Normally, Aemond would have refused, but today he didn't have the strength. It was almost three in the morning, he could have ordered an Uber, but he was afraid he would puke all over the car.

"All right."

***

He was awakened from a deep sleep by the gentle clinking of plates and cups. He opened an eye but closed it immediately, blinded by the morning light from the windows. His head was bursting. He wondered what time it was. 

He made one more attempt to look ahead and saw, that Y/N was quietly bustling about in the kitchen. He could see, that her movements were slowed down, trying not to slam cupboards and putting dishes away, without making any louder noises. Her face was literally determined not to wake him. 

She glanced at him to see, if she was succeeding, and when she met his gaze, she frowned apologetically.

"Sorry, I'm so hungry." She said, as if she had to justify herself, that she wanted to have breakfast at her own home. 

"I'll be making scrambled eggs and casseroles. Will you eat with me?” She asked, her voice light and unjustified contentment.

"What time is it?" He asked instead of answering, rising to a sitting position and clutching his head. He felt like it would explode. Y/N looked at him understandingly.

"Eleventh." She said, and he just let out a heavy breath. He knew he shouldn't have had any more booze, and he wished he'd not listened to Klaus. 

Y/N started to rummage in one of the cupboards, standing on tiptoes. It caught his attention, that she herself was still in her pajamas. It was warm, so she was wearing shorts and a black T-shirt with the words "Depeche Mode" written on it. The corner of his mouth twitched up. 

Very often they played songs of this band in his club. Apparently Y/N found what she was looking for, because she turned to him and waved a box of painkillers at him. He just nodded without saying a word, and she poured water into a glass. She brought it to him along with the pills and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Thank you." He replied, reaching straight for the package. Y/N sighed sympathetically but said nothing. He appreciated it. He didn't want to listen to mothering and lecturing about the effects of drinking too much alcohol. 

Aemond got up and Y/N went back to making breakfast. He sat on the other side of the counter on the seat, so that he watched what she was doing. He had to admit, that in the chaos of her activities, he had to appreciate her resourcefulness and how she also kept the scrambled eggs from curdling and the casseroles from burning to a crisp. 

At first he didn't feel like eating, but the smells, that reached his nose, made him change his mind.

"Sorry for the trouble." He finally said, realizing that Y/N was doing him a favor. She just shrugged and laughed.

"Come on. Happens to the best ones." She said and looked at him with a smile. 

Only now, looking at her from a closer distance, he realized, that her eyes were not blue. They were blue-green, changing color slightly depending on the light. Her dark, long eyelashes, eyebrows and hair, made her eyes look even bigger. He watched her silently.

She had a soft, relaxed face. Her figure was slender and fragile, and she was quite short. The shorts showed off her long legs. He thought, that she’s pretty. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of her words. "Ready!" She made the verdict, placing the food on a plate. She handed him one, which made a beeping noise. 

In the meantime, she made tea for herself and coffee for him. She didn't ask his opinion, but made it the way he liked it. Perhaps because Klaus had prepared one for him many times. It reminded him of her brother.

"Klaus won't be joining us?" He asked, trying the scrambled eggs. It was tasty, though he would have added more onions to it. Y/N looked at him. She swallowed her bite before answering.

“He said he would eat something in town. He has some errands to run at one of the stores. He asked me to take care of you." She said the last sentence with a slight amusement characteristic of her. 

It wasn't ironic, it was more of a mild annoyance. The one she usually shared with her brother. Aemond frowned at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been called a smile. Y/N noticed the nuance as she smiled even wider.

Aemond feared, that Y/N would force him to talk, but she didn't. She ate in silence, staring at a point behind him, her eyes betraying, that she was thinking about something. 

Aemond realized, that since he'd known her, Y/N had never shown any sign of reserve or fear of him. On the contrary, she was never afraid to express her opinion in front of him. She wasn't afraid of looking ridiculous in his eyes. He wouldn't be able to do it.

His image was everything to him. The lack of one eye and his blindfold created an invisible barrier around him, a wall, a vision of a cool, distant and resolute man. Also towards women, he always felt the need to be a domineering person, who could not tolerate opposition. 

On the one hand, he needed directness, on the other hand, he felt, that the women he had met so far, expected this from him. Despite the confidence, that was real, he felt tense around them even, when he slept with them.

However, now, that he was sitting with Y/N at breakfast, he felt relaxed. He knew, that even if he remained cool and distant, he wouldn't discourage her. Her behavior towards him openly told him, that she had sympathy for him, and whether he wanted it or not, he couldn't reject that.

Y/N blinked as if she remembered something. She looked at him, but in a rather unusual way. She looked like she was considering whether to ask a question, but nothing came out of her mouth. Aemond stopped eating.

"Something happened?" He asked, wondering why she was staring at him like that. 

Y/N put down her fork and thought for a moment. For someone so talkative, it took her quite a long time to put her thoughts into words. He knew she wanted to ask him something serious, and he didn't know if, after talking to Klaus yesterday, he wanted more outbursts.

"I don't want to burden you. But I have a problem." She said hesitantly, waiting for his reaction. Aemond raised his eyebrows.

"Problem?"

Y/N pursed her lips. It worried him. Her expression was desperation. He had no idea, what’s going on. She curled up in the seat and swallowed.

"Albert sends me messages." She said finally. Aemond's face hardened.

 "Texts...uh." She rolled her eyes as if she couldn't say it. She shrugged. "Well, you know. And he sends me pictures of himself. God." She sighed, burying her face in her hands, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. “I asked him to stop. He stops for a few days, but then it's the same again." She said dropping her hands. She didn't look at him, she was ashamed. 

“When he comes here, he doesn't seem to do anything. But when she greets and cuddles with me, she does it so that I…” She paused for a moment, her eyes turning red. Her knee began to move uncontrollably. She finally dared to look at his face. 

He could see, that she was fighting herself not to cry. He felt his heart pounding. He swallowed hard, looked ahead, and drank some of the now-cold coffee. He thought, that he wanted to kill him. A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I wanted to ask you… Do you think I could talk him out of it somehow. Did you notice, that I was giving him mixed signals with my… behavior or in any other way? He once wrote to me that I pretended to be a saint, but I must be quite a... slut deep down, because of how I look at him." Her voice trembled as she uttered the last sentence, and Aemond felt his jaw tighten.

"I've never noticed you giving him any signals." He said slowly, through slightly clenched teeth. 

Y/N stared at him with wide, red eyes. She was silent for a moment, then nodded and sighed. With the rest of her strength, she brought a slight smile to her face. She got up to collect their dishes. 

"Thank you." She said, taking his plate. "You've calmed me down."

"Will you tell Klaus?" He asked, looking at her intensely. "Or do I have to do it?"

She stopped, her face hardened. She didn't look at him. She moved after a moment, but no answer came out of her mouth. 

Aemond felt the blood pulsing through his veins. Her confession sobered him completely. He got up, walked around the counter, and came over to her, until they were inches apart. She turned to him, startled by his sudden movement.

"I asked you a question." He said coldly and low. 

She looked at him with her big eyes. The words stuck in her mouth. She took a step towards him. Then the second. He wondered what she wanted to do, but didn't pull away. They were so close, that their faces were practically touching.

"Klaus knows." She said despairingly. "But they have signed contracts for next year. He would pay heavy fines for abandoning them, Albert made sure of that. Klaus is afraid, that if he wants to stop working with him, Albert will file an anonymous report about his illegal transactions. There are more of them than I thought. He never told me about it before."

There was bitterness in her words. She dropped her gaze to the floor. Aemond couldn't find the right words to say.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked softly, after a moment of silence. She didn't answer right away.

"...For two months."

They stood there speechless, each looking in a different direction, lost in their own thoughts. He felt Y/N rest her forehead against his chest. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed softly. He didn't move away. 

Subconsciously, he placed a hand on her back. He stroked them with his fingertips. He placed his forehead against her hair and closed his eye. They were soft. He could smell the pleasant herbal scent of her shampoo in his nose. 

"I'll take care of it."

[sadist1224]

I STILL WANT Mafia!141 AU

Part 1 https://www.tumblr.com/sadist1224/742379650222784512/i-need-the-mafia141-au?source=share

Part 2 https://www.tumblr.com/sadist1224/742405536052543488/i-still-want-mafia141-au?source=share

The Mafia!In which you, a former second lieutenant of the police, were kidnapped by unknown people while 141 were in another city on their mafia business.

The first alarm is raised by Val, who does not find you at the bar, although you always arrived on time. The woman starts calling and texting you, but your phone is out of the network area, so the second thing she does is go to your apartment nearby. Not finding you there either, she decides to wait before acting decisively, but don't worry. The waiting period will not be so long, in an hour her people will interrogate passers-by in search of witnesses.

Just imagine Price's face, which Alejandro calls right during the interrogation, and on his work phone, while the Ghost beats the next drug dealer to a pulp. The captain stops the lieutenant as soon as he hears the latest news that Valeria has started making a fuss. Her people are questioning civilians, looking for something. Price asks to keep him informed and hangs up. I have a bad feeling in the back of my head.

The guys immediately sense something wrong with this call. Johnny and Gaz exchange glances with the Ghost.

Kyle, who was able to get Van's phone number almost before he left, just in case. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he could call you or not, but that doesn't mean he didn't want to.

Therefore, when they dial your number 5 times in a row, and you still haven't answered them, their anxiety increases significantly.

Alejandro was actually surprised by Valeria's unusual behavior and watched her actions all day, until eventually he and Rudy came back to the bar to interrogate her. And, of course, they didn't find you there.

You, who always smiled so friendly at them when they met and who had already learned their favorite positions on the bar list. Of course, they couldn't help but flirt with you, but how else would they behave with someone like you? How witty and at the same time cute you could respond to Rudy's flirting and to the same extent you could interrupt absolutely any disliked thing addressed to you. You definitely knew your worth, you made great jokes and could support even the most insignificant topic, or at the right moment take the conversation in a different direction.

You are the perfect bartender, and absolutely the man who completely captured the attention of two Mexicans. In fact, Alejandro has already been thinking about how he can lure you to their establishment. You would absolutely fit into one of their restaurants or casinos. If, of course, the guys from 141 hadn't already had their eyes on you.

Yes, the British liked you just as much as they did. The way Johnny ran after you, how easily and often Gaz communicated with you. Or how the Ghost and Price looked at you.

Alejandro is not stupid. He knows how the familiar coldness in the Ghost's eyes changes when he looks at you. Or how Price's eyes look at you with undisguised interest when you once again bring them the best whiskey from your stock. And how masterfully you manage to ignore it. Alejandro is ready to give a standing ovation to your stoic, even expression when you refuse to let Sope join them.

You're a professional. And you're not that simple. The Mexican likes this mystery about you. Only a very attentive person will notice that you've been through some shit. And it seems that the Ghost and Price have already guessed this.

But now, you're not here. Alejandro knows that he has to call Price, tell him about the disappearance of "their" favorite bartender. And he is already ordering Rodolfo to gather his men and comb the streets, because they all know very well how dangerous members of other groups can be. And they have plenty of enemies in the city and beyond.

Johnny, who just can't find a place for himself after the news of your disappearance, cuts circles around the hotel room. If you could see how worried he is… The man is ready to take off right now and go in search of you.

Gaz, who has been sitting tensely on the couch all this time, clutching his phone and nervously glancing at his watch, waiting for Price to finish the conversation with Alejandro. Of course, what did they expect, appearing so often in a bar, and even in your company?

The ghost knew that sooner or later it would happen, but that doesn't mean he's calm. In fact, he already imagines how in one of the shelters he will clearly show your kidnappers that they should not even pull their hands to what already belongs to them.

Of course, they've almost claimed you. You're almost there, even if you don't know it. Price had already thought about it. He already had a rough plan in his head how he could lure you into their family. Of course, he already had the idea to buy out the bar to begin with, but Valeria sent him far away, even with a very profitable offer for her. So the simplest option has disappeared.

But, never mind, he has plans to the last letter of the alphabet. In his head, you fit perfectly between the four of them. In every sense.

But he just can't choose between you and their job. The latter was still more important. That's why Price decides to finish all the business here first, and then deal with your kidnappers. After all, Vargas and the Couple care about you too, so they may not worry a bit.

[wallwriterstuff]

To Soothe A Soul ||John Price x Teen!Simon Riley||

Warnings: Mentions of drugs. Implied child abuse and neglect. All the angst. Talk of foster care and sibling separation. Implicit talk of death. Mentions of military discharge and injury. This covers many sensitive topics, Minors should not interact with this.

Words: 2679

Summary: Written for @glitterypirateduck O Captain Challenge using a take on the promtps 'An unexpected visitor' and 'A Rescue Takes Place'.

Former Captain John Price can spot a dead man a mile away, and he's known enough of them to know that not every dead man dies. It's in the eyes, that dead-eyed stare that proves the body might work but the tattered soul inside has long since withered away. He's horrified to find those eyes in the gaunt face of his newest foster child. Simon Riley is a dead man walking, and he's barely 14.

Part 2: The Yes Basket

“Any medical or dietary requirements? Allergies?”

“None as of yet but a doctor’s appointment will be organised for the near future to craft a more detailed healthcare plan. Kid’s malnourished and deficient in an alphabet of vitamins I’ll wager.”

His pen tapped rhythmically against his notepad, his gut feeling tight with anxiety. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called for an emergency placement and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but the fear of the unknown still prickled at the base of his neck, licked in icy stripes up and down his spine. A career in the military had prepared him for much in life, but even the horrors he’d faced abroad couldn’t have prepared him for some of the kids that came into his care. Fostering had definitely been a good move for him after an honourable discharge due to injury had forced him out of the field. The kids he cared for needed routine and consistency as much as he did, and it filled that aching need to have someone reliant on him being at his best, gave him the motivation to keep up with all those exercises doctors had insisted would help him stay healthy and help him to readjust to civilian life. If he had someone to do it all for it was much, much easier.

“Alright then. Anything else I need to know about him?” Price asked, halting the movements of his pen and poising his hand to note down anything of significance.

“Simon has a younger brother, Tom. He took on a caring role for him and it was his wish for the boys to remain together but…welfare concerns don’t permit it right now. We’ll talk more about a family plan going forward with you to ensure they get time together but for now just expect some backlash from the decision to separate them.” The woman on the phone, Kate Laswell she’d introduced herself as, sighed heavily and added, “Also…Simon found their mother. He’s seen a lot in the past 24 hours alone. Be mindful of his grief.”

Price couldn’t quite force his hand to move for a moment, thickly swallowing at the sympathy that clogged his throat for a second. He’d need to wipe that from his expression by the time they arrived; he doubted the boy would want to see it. Lowering his pen, he nodded slowly.

“Alright. How long?” His mind was already racing with all of the things he needed to get ready, to prepare.

“40 minutes from where we are to your address. We’re moving quickly with this one.” Kate informed him. Price internally groaned at the time limit but kept his tone calm and controlled as he agreed that it was fine and hung up. He took a moment to take a breath and then he placed his notebook away and pushed to his feet. He ran his home with just as much military precision as the barrack’s he’d been used to living in, with not a thing out of place and not a speck of dirt visible. No, no, it was the spare bedrooms that needed attention now. They were cleaned the same as the rest of the house but none were set up to welcome a teenager into. As he walked towards the stairs, he saw the fuzzy black ears perk up before hearing the click of hardwood beneath his claws. The grizzled German Shephard wasn’t the most welcoming looking dog given the scarring on his face, but he had a teddy bear heart and intellect that rivalled any human. His big head tilted in question, knowing that at this time of night Price was more likely to be sitting and nursing a glass of whisky and not traipsing upstairs. Price smiled gently and gave the lean muscles of his flank a firm pat.

“We’ve got a guest coming to stay Riley. You gonna be a good boy when he comes, hm?” he fussed him for a moment longer before gripping the railing and ascending the stairs. For the next forty minutes, the former Captain set towels in his bathroom, placed fresh bed sheets on every single bed in each of the spare rooms, and aerated each room to ensure it was fresh and prepared. In the kitchen, he set his fruit bowl front and centre and he tidied up his coat and shoe rack to ensure there was space for another set of belongings there. He tried to drag all these things out, not wanting to wait in the silence for his new charge to arrive and let the anticipation get to him. Riley settled against his side as he attempted to watch TV to pass the last 15 minutes, some mind-numbing episode of Match of The Day he could really care less about since Liverpool hadn’t been playing that day.

His own doorbell startled him like a gunshot, made Riley perk at his side. With a few firm commands and quick scratch behind the ears, he had Riley settled in his dog bed and was taking that last deep breath behind the door. I’ve met plenty like you, we’ll be fine.

Oh.

Oh no, no he hadn’t.

I’ve never met a kid like you at all.

Simon Riley clutched the bin bag full of his possessions in a white knuckled grip, his fist trembling with the effort as if scared that losing his grip meant losing everything. Every inch of him was locked up tighter than a maximum-security prison, and those eyes…those dead, dead eyes. They didn’t flinch. He’d seen SAS boys focus through glinting scopes with the same sort of resolve, unblinking, unyielding, vigilant in a way they’d been rigorously trained for. This gangly teen in tattered jeans and a baggy hoodie made a bigger impression than any he’d yet met. Dead as those eyes were they were keen, sharp, and Price knew they wouldn’t miss a trick. Overly aware now of his expression and body language, Price stepped aside to leave a nice wide gap, his smile welcoming and face soft, open.

“Hi, Kate right? And you must be Simon. Do you prefer Simon, Si, some other nickname?” he asked, gesturing for them to come in. Kate gave him a slightly strained smile and he guessed the ride over had been rather intense. Simon Riley oozed intensity in waves. When he stepped over the threshold into Price’s home it was like watching the grim reaper himself enter, an oppressive and ominous atmosphere following him, like he’d been trained to make his presence fill a room in a way his physically body couldn’t. Intimidation was something Price had dealt with for years however, gotten good at himself, and so he maintained that soft, open body language and didn’t flinch at that dead-eyed stare. I see you, but you don’t scare me, and nothing here should scare you either.

“Simon.” He grunted finally, fingers flexing around the bin liner. One bin bag. Moderately full but from the bulky way it stretched the bag Price guessed the majority of it was clothes. There was a stink that followed the bag to. Weed, he recognised, smoke, something bitter and tangy…iron-like. He filed that away as a conversation for later. Nodding, Price gestured to the shoe and coat rack.

“Simon, it’s good to meet you, I’m John. I made a space for your shoes and your coat here. House rules are that shoes always come off before we come in, please, or we’ll be forever mopping the hardwood.” He chuckled, maintaining that friendly smile as he waited to see what he’d do. Simon was already testing him clearly, because he let the silence drag out for a long while before he finally toed off his shoes and set them on the rack. His toes curled and uncurled into the hardwood for a moment. Price had seen it before both in soldiers and in previous kids, that fight or flight instinct. It was the scary unknown that did it. For some kids that came in this was the first house they’d been in that was clean and well-lit and warm. For some it was the emptiness of the open space that was unnerving after they got used to cramped bedrooms or bustling, busy living rooms filled with unsavoury visitors or simply one too many family members.

“John has offered to let you stay here for the time being, but I’ll be around still okay?” Kate assures him, “I’ll work on setting up visits with Tommy for you, and you’ve got my number saved in your phone, in case you want to talk to me.” Price knows instinctively that Simon won’t ever use that number. He doesn’t look the type to lean on anyone, least of all a stranger whose separated him from his brother.

“Actually, there’s more than just me in the house,” he pipes up, “Are you alright with dogs, Simon?” The boy doesn’t give him a single twitch of a response, simply looks from one adult to another. Buried deep beneath the layers of forced apathy Price can see exhaustion. “Riley’s an ex-service dog, worked with me on many a mission. He’s got a good temperament and likes a lot of fussing. He’s got a few scars though. You want to meet him?” his questions are met with silence once more, so John simply takes a few steps left to the archway leading into his living room, where Riley sits patiently in his dog bed near the window. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, ears perked and tail flicking in excitement. He doesn’t run, but he does lope forward a bit, curious and wanting to meet new faces, but Price makes him heel.

Simon almost rises on the balls of his feet, like a bird ready to take flight, eyes fixed on the German Shepherd in his eye line. Price takes a second to evaluate him, trying to see if it’s fear or curiosity, but the boy gives so little away. It’s the faintest twitch of his free hand toward Riley that gives Price incentive to motion the dog forward. It’s a gentle and tender display, as if Riley knows how sensitive the wounds Simon’s carrying are, like he can read the neon sign that screams HANDLE WITH CARE emblazoned on the boy’s broken soul. He sniffs gently at his pale hand, and Simon’s nose wrinkles ever so slightly at the cold, wet sensation on his bony knuckles. It doesn’t stop him from reaching to give Riley’s ears a scratch. The German Shepherd sits obediently, pushing his giant head into Simon’s hand for more. Kate gives the faintest smile.

“What’s his name again?” she asks.

“Riley.” Price replies, chuckling slightly as she goes to fuss him to. Her input causes Simon to fall back, eyes snapping to her and away from the dog, moving quickly from one fixation to the next, always hyper-aware and alert. How many times had the hand he’d not been watching for struck him? You can relax here, son, he wanted to say.

“A very good boy.” She coos. Price hums in agreement and steps up beside them.

“Living room has the TV and an old games console. I don’t have many games but if you like we can get some more in eventually. I don’t really use it often. Kitchen’s right through if you want a drink or something to eat?” His offer is met by that dead eyed stare again, but after a moment of consideration Simon gives him another quiet answer.

“Water.” His voice fluctuates with all the tell-tale signs of a boy on the cusp of puberty and Price is again hit by just how young he is for someone so alert and mistrusting. He doesn’t let the way his heart cracks a bit show on his face and simply leads them through to the kitchen, silently showing Simon exactly where the glasses are for him if he ever needs them while offering to make Kate a coffee to. Simon doesn’t contribute much to the conversation at all, just remains this silent and oppressive presence lingering in the corners of the room, anywhere that gives him a good vantage point really. He's a silent spectre, a sentinel, a ghost. Always somewhere just out of sight with everything in his watch and reach. Price lets him stand where he’s comfortable, concedes that little bit of control to him on a night he knows the boy’s had no control of anything.

“I’ve got a few different rooms upstairs, all of them are ready to move in to but I thought you might want to pick one that suits you.” He says, leading the two of them upstairs. Simon hasn’t once let go of his bin-liner and Price suspects getting him to wash anything in that bag is going to take considerable time and effort; this is all Simon has now of home, and however much a hell-hole home might have been he’s seen kids cling to the most disgustingly filthy objects purely because it’s the last vestiges of their old life and family they have left. He’s left all the doors open so Simon can explore each room upstairs at his own pace, and he waits patiently at the end of the hallway to give him time to adjust to the idea that this home is now his to.

Price can sense the overwhelm a mile away as Simon lingers in each doorway, like he’s afraid that to enter a room would be to taint it somehow, the pristine white linen looking to fine for his grubby hands. He can see the dirt under the boys nails, the slight lacquer of grease in his unkempt hair. Moving quickly indeed he thinks grimly as he watches the boy hesitantly test a mattress and peer out a window. That soulless stare focuses back on him when he’s found the room he wants, but the words won’t come. Simon never once asks if the room can be his, he’s never been allowed to want, but he acquires it through presence alone.

Price nods to the chest of drawers, “Bottom one’s got bedding in. We can talk some more tomorrow about how you want to decorate it. Take your time settling in and come down when you’re ready. Lights out at 10:00, alright?” Simon gives him a slow blink, and Price realises that’s all the reaction he’s going to get as he turns and walks to the stairs, Riley on his heels. Laswell waits near the front door, tapping away on her phone to organise the rest of Simon’s life no doubt. He clomps down the steps, absent-mindedly rubbing away the phantom aches in his leg once he hits the bottom.

“Kid doing okay?” Laswell’s question comes with a critical eye of him, and Price knows she’s really asking if he can cope with him more so than if Simon will be alright here. He gives a slight nod, glancing back up the stairs.

“Okay as he can be given the shit he’s gone through…he’ll, er…he’ll take some getting used to.” Price admitted.

“He’s not said more than five words to me since we met hours ago, and that stare…”Laswell shuddered a bit. Price hummed in agreement as he opened his front door to let her out.

“We need anything we’ll let you know, till then best to let him settle.”

“Alright then. You have my number.” Laswell lifts a hand in farewell as she walks down the front path and towards her car. Price watches her go, his mind already back on the teenage boy she’s leaving behind. Deposited in his house with nothing more than a bin-liner to his name, Simon Riley was going to require some serious care, and he felt clueless as to where to start. With a deep sigh, he closed the front door and set off towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea and a game plan. He was going to make this house a home for the boy, one way or another.

[pollenallergie]

Best friend!Eddie Headcanon(s) ft. Reefer Rick

aka Eddisms: The Reefmix

Reefer Rick doesn’t just supply Eddie with drugs to deal, he also offers Eddie his illegal bootleg copies of movies that are only out in theaters to Eddie for a discounted price.

Rick calls it the “employee discount,” but, considering Eddie is his only dealer at the moment, it might as well just be the “Eddie discount.”

You and Eddie have weekly movie nights. Typically, you rent movies from Family Video for these movie nights like good, morally upstanding citizens. However, once a month, you two indulge in the contraband and have a bootleg movie night wherein you watch whatever new, pirated flicks Rick has to offer.

On these nights, you forgo your weekly trip to family video but still head to the closest convenience store to get snacks because junk food is a necessity for movie nights.

Then, Eddie heads to Reefer Rick’s place to “rent” the flicks from him, leaving you back at the trailer to get everything set up for your movie night, much to your chagrin. You kinda hate that Eddie never brings you along with him to run his “errands,” mostly because you hate being left out. It’s not like you actually want to be involved in his illicit activities, but it still sucks to be excluded. Nevertheless, you prepare the spread of junk food, order the pizza, and transform the Munsons’ living room into the ultimate, cozy movie night cove.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s at Rick’s, buying the films and some weed for personal consumption, a movie night must-have. Unfortunately, such an exchange also involves shooting the shit with Rick for about an hour because he’s the only man who can out-chatterbox Eddie. These conversations usually involve Rick, who thinks of himself as Eddie’s mentor, giving the youngest Munson life advice that he definitely didn’t ask for and ranting about whatever sociopolitical issues he’s been hyper-focusing on lately, such as the military-industrial complex, the bullshit War on Drugs, really, any mostly-valid-yet-still-a-bit crackpot anti-establishment rhetoric you can think of, Ricks probably spewing it at Eddie. Honestly, these conversations are more like scatterbrained lectures; the kind filled with lots of ‘um’s and long pauses, the kind where Rick forgets what he’s talking about after a while and jarringly switches topics, starting a new lecture entirely without giving poor Eddie so much as a subtle verbal cue.

After retrieving the films and robotically nodding along to these scatterbrained lectures, Eddie returns to the trailer and is immediately accosted by your incessant complaining about the fact that he never lets you go with him to pick up stuff from Rick’s. At this point, your grumbling is part of the routine.

Of course, Eddie’s always quick to remind you that it’s not about wanting you to “sit at home and play housewife” for him (your go-to accusation, you little feminist you), but that he simply doesn’t trust Rick around you because, in Eddie’s words, Rick’s “sketchy” and “a total perv.”

In all honesty, Rick’s harmless; a drug dealer/supplier who has no qualms with dealing to minors, but otherwise harmless. Rick’s nothing more than a stoner punk with access to semi-decent weed that is somehow both a genius and a being that completely lacks common sense, hence why Eddie’s unofficial PoliSci professor has been caught by Hawkin’s PD a few times.

The real reason Eddie doesn’t want you around Rick is that he’s intimidated by him. More specifically, Rick is a fucking hot, with his various tattoos and anti-establishment ideals. He’s about ten years your senior, though the way he somehow balances tranquil maturity with enough oddball immaturity makes him seem five or six years younger than he actually is. Not to mention, he’s just educated enough to have some semi-intellectual conversations (Rick went to college at Purdue and flunked out during his junior year because he spent too much time partying and doing drugs), but he’s also somehow dumb enough for it to be sort of endearing, likely as a result of all the hard drugs killing his brain cells or whatever. Truthfully, Rick’s oddly charming in ways that Eddie doesn’t think he ever could be (little does Eddie know, he’s his own brand of oddly charming, and his type of charm has already made you fall for him), and, well, that scares the shit out of Eddie because, in his eyes, Rick is exactly the type of guy that could steal you away from him before he ever even gets the chance to tell you, his best friend, how hopelessly in love with you he is. No, no way, not happening. Therefore, Eddie’s decided that you can never ever find out who Reefer Rick actually is and you can certainly never meet him. Eddie can’t prevent the two of you from crossing paths in the grocery store, but he can prevent you two from ever properly meeting and talking to each other.

Anyways… Once Eddie has amply reassured you that you didn’t miss out on anything and that he’s not leaving you behind because you’re not a dude, he pops in one of the flicks, coaxes you onto the couch, and snuggles up with you as the two of you prepare to watch a really shitty quality version of a movie that you two are honestly indifferent to (hence why you two aren’t going to see it in theaters) and that, for some reason, has large, bold, poorly-translated Turkish subtitles on it.

[somehow-a-writer]

Best Friends Brother {2P Italy X Reader}

With a sigh, you browse your closet for something to change into while going out with Flavio to the mall per his earlier, almost pleading, text. You chuckle thinking about how much begging he probably would've done if you didn't agree after a bit. You quickly change from your pajamas by grabbing a simple black tank top with a small butterfly design, black jeans with a chain, and a pair of Converse and adding a choker and some rings to complete your look before grabbing your bag and keys, and setting out to meet Flavio at the nearby mall. Since it was a nice day out and your meeting place wasn't all that far from where you lived, you decided to just walk over and enjoy the day.

While you were getting ready and walking there, Flavio decided it would be a good idea to make Luciano tag along so he could get out of the house. Luciano wasn't taking too kindly to practically being drug outside when he planned to just have a relaxing day at home. "Giuro che se non mi lasci andare ti pugnalerò." Luciano said through clenched teeth, trying to get out of his brother's grip. "Aww non è divertente! Avanti, dov'è il tuo lato divertente? Inoltre, non vorremmo che la Bella aspettasse a lungo, vero?" Flavio glanced over at his brother, grinning as he knew that Luciano couldn't say no to (Y/N) despite not ever planning on admitting it. Admittedly, Luciano didn't truly give a flying fuck about you at first but after being best friends with his brother for so long, he grew more fond of you over time and came to befriend you as well. After a bit of contemplation, Luciano just sighed and gave in. "Bene. Andiamo." Flaviolet out a small, happy squeal as he dragged Luciano to the car and shoved him in before slipping into the driver's side. "Oh Dio, moriremo..."

Not long after you arrived in the food court, you received a text from Flavio. 'Hey (nickname)! Just got here, where are you hiding away??!' You giggle quietly as you send a reply, telling him about where you are in the food court, keeping an eye out for where your fabulous blonde friend is, still unaware of the fact there would be another to join you. Within a couple of short minutes, you hear an Italian voice shouting. "Ciao Bella!~" You look in the direction of the voice and break into a large small, jogging through the crowd towards your friend. "Hey, Flavio! Great timing, per usual! Hm? You didn't say Luciano would be joining us, how'd you manage that? Hi Luciano, it's been a bit, how have ya been?" Flavio just chuckles, shaking his head. "A magician never reveals his secrets, Cara (nickname)~." Luciano rolls his eyes at his brother's comments, before giving you a small smile. "Ciao Bella, I've been fine. How about yourself?" A faint blush creeps its way onto your cheeks along with a shy smile. "Little stressed but overall okay. Ya know, I think that was the first you've called me beautiful just in casual attire. I um...T-Thank you..." Luciano smirks, giving you a small nod in acknowledgment.

The three of you wander through various different stores, no matter if someone doesn't like the store another would be there to keep their spirits up. Flavio and Luciano tried multiple times to convince you they should be able to buy you something you wanted, however, you felt guilty in accepting their offer so you always politely refused. Upon wandering the halls of stores, you slipped into Hot Topic and started browsing various sections. Once they realized you had slipped away somewhere and had found you again, you were looking through one of the dresses hanging up for your size and the price, which was a tad difficult with how high it was hung. The pair noticed this and made a quiet agreement before heading towards you. Luciano stepped up behind you and flipped through the tags easier and faster. Being that extra few inches really helped. However, not expecting the sudden appearance, you squeaked and whipped around quickly with a small blush from the close proximity. "U-Um... L-Luciano...? I feel like I suddenly missed something now. Where-Where did you suddenly come from? The shadows??" You question, a little flustered over the suddenness. He chuckles, smirking down at you as he carefully unhooks the hanger with the dress you were looking at. "Maybe~. But that's beside the point now. Like it or not, you're getting at least one gift from us, Bella ~." He coos the last bit, patting your head before going off to another part of the store, presumably to find something else.

After a while of walking around, the boys held to what Luciano said despite your attempts to persuade them from it. Aside from a couple of small items, everything was pretty much a surprise within the large bags being carried. "Oh! Bella (nickname)! You should come over once we finish up for a small, private fashion show!" Flavio smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked. "A fashion show? I mean, you know I'm always down to hang out with you guys but fashion shows aren't really my thing." "Oh trust me, this one will be. Well if there's nothing else here to go to, let's go get this started!" Flavio excitedly said, looking at the others for their input. Luciano and you agreed that heading home was fine and soon enough, the three were on the way back to the car to return to the Vargas home for this mysterious fashion show.

After arriving home, Flavio left you and Luciano to chat in the living room while he 'got things ready'. In reality, he rushed to one of the spare rooms and separated the clothing items into one area, the items you knew about into one bag and the various other miscellaneous items into another bag. Flavio walked back with both bags and a smile that could rival the Cheshire Cat's, handing the bag of surprise items to Luciano for after and setting the other bag down, he clapped his hands together. "Alright Cara (nickname), I want you to go to the guest room and that's where the show will start, just come out when you're ready!" You got up and started walking towards the room, stopping in the living room doorway upon fully realizing what he said. "Wait. I'm the one showcasing everything!?" Flavio nodded, waving his hands in a shooing motion. "SÌ! Ora vai!" With a sigh and a blush already threatening its way to your face, you quickly scurry to the room, knowing there was no point in changing his mind. Closing the door behind you, you make your way towards the various clothes on the bed, getting changed into the first outfit.

Around at least an hour had passed by the time you were finally on the last one, it was the one Luciano had grabbed for you at Hot Topic. You slipped into it and realized it was much shorter and lower cut than you initially thought. not having leggings to pair with it, you walked out with a blush. Flavio had been complimenting and making various comments about the perfect pairings as well, Luciano on the other hand had been practically silent with an ever-growing and deepening blush. Once you came out in this one, Flavio squealed over how adorable he thought you looked, begging for a spin to see how it looked overall. You shyly nodded, keeping your eyes everywhere except the brothers while you slowly turned around. The dress looked amazing on you, you just weren't used to the cut on it. From ear to ear, Luciano had turned completely red and was trying to hide it behind his hand. Flavio could easily tell how the two felt about each other so as a bit of encouragement, he nudged his brother with a shit-eating grin. "Well? Doesn't the Bella Ragazza look absolutely magnifica?~" Luciano nods quickly, keeping his face covered as he looks at (Y/N), not trusting what might come out if he did try to speak. With a sheepish smile and a dark blush, you quickly scurry back to the guest room to change back into your earlier attire. Once he was sure you couldn't hear him, he mumbled into his hand, still trying to recover. "Fanculo, è così dannatamente meravigliosa." After a pause, he shoots an all-too-knowing look at Flavio. "Stavi tramando tutto questo fin dall'inizio, vero, pezzo di merda?" "E se lo fossi?" Flavio chuckled, tilting his head in curiosity. Before Luciano could say or do anything, however, you were already stepping into the living room with a confused look at the sudden tension. "Did I miss something...?"

"Niente~ Now come sit and you can have the rest of your gifts!~" Flavio ushered you towards the couch, patting the spot between the two of them. With a nod, you walk over, sitting between the two of them, and noticing Luciano's blush was still fairly prominent. "Luciano, are you feeling alright? You're quite red..." Leaning a bit closer, you gently place your inner wrist on his forehead. "Mmm... No temperature, that's good." Luciano only blushed darker again, stumbling over his words some as he quickly handed you the bag. "I-I'm alright! Non preoccuparti per me. Qui!" You tilt your head a little at his sudden change of attitude but nod, taking the bag. "If you're sure. Thank you as well." You pull out a variety of different items; jewelry, anime merchandise, a couple of boxes of pocky, and a few new pins for your collection. You smiled so wide, your cheeks hurt by the need, bouncing a little in excitement and small squeals over practically every item. You lunged at Flavio in a bone-crushing hug first before doing the same to Luciano, both returning your hug. "You both are absolutely amazing! Too impossibly sweet for words and just incredibly wonderful!!~ I still feel guilty you guys spent money on me but I'm extremely grateful for you guys! I love you two so much." You teared up a bit at the end, overwhelmed by happiness and how much these two truly mean to you. They quickly hug you, gently wiping any tears threatening to spill. "Thank you (nickname), we're the truly grateful ones to have you in our lives~ I'm glad you enjoyed everything! Thank you for being you, care (Y/N)." Flavio smiles, petting your head. Luciano leaves a soft kiss on your forehead, rubbing your back. "Anything for you, principessa. You're the true blessing so seeing you happy is always worth it, no matter what." You smile shyly, blushing as you hold them close, whispering a small thank you.

After recovering from the joyous outburst and tears, Flavio heads to the kitchen to get started on supper. Staying with Luciano on the couch as you chat, you grab a box of pocky and open it. Placing one in your mouth, you tilt the box toward Luciano in an offering manner. He pauses before smirking and leaning closer, taking the other end in his mouth. 'Does he mean he wants to play the pocky game??' You think to yourself, a blush already forming as you take a hesitant bite, Luciano doing the same. After a bit of back and forth, it's finally your turn but that would also lead to kissing him. You finally take that last bite, planning on pulling away quickly after, Luciano bets you to that aspect, however, cupping your cheek and holding you close. It was soft but all the feelings were easily passed between the two. Slowly you broke apart, gently resting your foreheads against each other with loving smiles. "Ti amo~." "I love you too~." Flavio smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Took you guys long enough to finally admit it. Nice to officially have you as a sorella, (nickname)!" Luciano grabbed a knife from his jacket, casually throwing it so it'd land a few inches from Flavio. "Stupido fratello, non sai quando non interrompere?!" "No, non lo so. Arrivederci!" Flavio laughed, heading back to resume cooking. You giggle, placing a hand on his chest and kissing his cheek. "You're so cute. But, again, please do try not to murder him. I know we're both quite attached to the little shit that is known as Flavio." Luciano chuckles, resting his head on your shoulder. "Potrò essere carino ma tu sei assolutamente tutto, amore mio~."

~Translations - all done using google translate, many apologies if any are incorrect. Please feel free to correct me on any translations!~

Giuro che se non mi lasci andare ti pugnalerò. - I swear if you don't let go, I will stab you.

Aww non è divertente! Avanti, dov'è il tuo lato divertente? Inoltre, non vorremmo che la Bella aspettasse a lungo, vero? - Aww that's no fun! Come on, where's your fun side? Besides, we wouldn't want Beauty to wait long, would we?

Bene. Andiamo - Fine. Let's go

Oh Dio, moriremo... - Oh god, we're gonna die...

Ciao Bella - hello beautiful

Cara - dear

SÌ! Ora vai! - yes! Now go!

Bella Ragazza - beautiful girl

Magnifica - magnificent

Fanculo, è così dannatamente meravigliosa. - Fuck me, she's so damn gorgeous.

Stavi tramando tutto questo fin dall'inizio, vero, pezzo di merda? - You were plotting this from the beginning weren't you, you shithead?

E se lo fossi? - And if I was?

Niente - nothing

Non preoccuparti per me. Qui! - Don't worry about me. Here!

Principessa - princess

Ti amo - I love you

Sorella - sister

Stupido fratello, non sai quando non interrompere?! - Stupid brother, don't you know when to not interrupt?!

no, non lo so - no, I don't

Ciao - hello

Arrivederci - goodbye

Potrò essere carino ma tu sei assolutamente tutto, amore mio - I may be cute but you're absolutely everything, my love

[snootlestheangel]

🗣️🗣️ no time like the present to get writing!! (coming from someone who.. also.. should be writing..)

but i'd like to hear more about the wolfshifter au idea if you don't mind!! very intriguing stuff

Thank you for the ask, my friend! Now that you have summoned every thought, here is a dump of the wolfshifter au!!!

So, for starters: The MacTavish family and their history of caring for wolfshifters. Since the discovery of wolfshifters about a century ago, there's been a huge stigma against them in the broad scope of modern society. Something about them never really being "human" and are typically reduced to nothing but savage beasts. But Scotland, having a high focus on herding, accepts the wolfshifter population the best. They're not exactly buddy buddy with them, but most wolfshifters find easy work doing stuff for farmers and whatnot. Granted, most of their jobs are like "guard dog" sorts of jobs, but hey, in a world where it's really common for wolves to be fired, refused a job, evicted, etc. just for being a wolf, work is work.

Then came along Great-great Grandma MacTavish. Something happened with her husband and somehow, a wolfshifter was the one to provide the best support for the young family during their difficult times. She ends up convincing her husband to start a business; basically a support/help center for wolfshifters in need. They provide basic medical care, food, clothing, shelter, etc.

Skip to modern day and Soap's family is still very heavily supporting this 'little' business. It's grown a significant amount, obviously, and it's the largest of a handful of wolfshifter care centers in the country, all others younger and operating independently. Soap's parents still run the "soup kitchen" that provide homemade Scottish meals to any and all wolves, no questions asked. Soap's eldest brother and wife are in charge of the medical facility that provides care for both human and wolf form. The brother (Oliver) and his wife run the "human" department specifically, and one of the two MacTavish sisters (Sarah) is in charge of the "wolf" department. Tiffany, the second MacTavish sister is in charge of the housing for displaced wolfshifters.

Side note about wolfshifters in this AU: they all are required to wear identifying tags/have ID chips for what's considered "safety" purposes. Ghost, being the legally dead menace to society he is, no longer wears his ID tags/dogtags (military ones), and because of Roba, his chip had been forcibly removed so he could never be identified; he'd just die a nobody.

Then we got Simon Riley. His father, being the absolute abomination he is, never knew his wife was a wolfshifter until after they have kids. Simon got the brunt of his abuse for being a wolf, and he eventually just became so numb to the abuse he gets from everyone that he eventually stops transforming. So much to the point that Price is not aware of his shifter status, but he's definitely suspicious.

But not as suspicious as Soap. Soap grew up around wolfshifters, and he knows there are certain behaviors and whatnot that are noticeable even in human form. He picks up on a few, albeit very subtle, behavioral traits from Ghost that just scream "wolf" to him, but he knows not to approach him about it. He grew up around wolves that had nowhere to go, no one to go to, traumatized and broken regarding their true nature. Ghost is like a poster child for it, so Soap keeps his distance from that topic.

They still end up having a very unique relationship, but it's not established when Ghost goes missing during a solo mission. Their intel was wrong or something else of the sort and he ended up getting captured.

The problem? They're a group trying to weaponize wolfshifters by forcing them to remain in wolf form. There's a special drug that was supposedly lost/abandoned that can induce transformations in wolfshifters. This group has mutated it to the point that wolves cannot physically transform back into human for several months at a time with only one injection of an amount that's in ratio with body weight and stuff.

ANYWHO

Ghost ends up stuck in wolf-form, he's injured, and he has no clue where he is. Turns out, he's stranded in what's considered the world's "safehaven" for wolfshifters all because of the MacTavish family.

Soap's siblings end up having to take him in, obviously not knowing who he is because he has no IDs or anything.

Basically just a really fluffy and angsty story about Ghost finding family with the MacTavish's and Soap just having absolutely world-destroying realizations of his love for Simon Riley. Ghost being soft with the young nieces and nephews, being fiercely protective of his new found-family

Yeah, I clearly haven't thought about this AU at all. Nope. Not a thought going towards it

[xylaes]

February DWC Day 4 - Vengeance

The Cleaner Part 3

Previous stories in this series: Prologue Part 1 Part 2

It didn’t take long for Xylaes to get the information he wanted out of Elrothos Sol’sil. A little flirting, some gentle touching, and a gin and tonic spiked with psychoactive drugs seemed to easily do the trick. Xylaes knew exactly what questions to ask and how to ask them. This is what he had been trained to do during his time in the Elite Forces, and this route was much better than the alternative which typically involved moderate amounts of torture. That’s not something he cared to get back into, and he doubted that Ouro would approve of his indiscretion.

The topic of Elrothos’s old restaurant, Sage and Salt, had been raised, and Xylaes raved about the delicious food (which he had never actually had), and the delightful owner (whom he had never actually met). Apparently the two had been old friends and sort of kept in touch over the years even after Rasen Cinderblade, Xy’s current person of interest, had abruptly moved to Bilgewater Harbor: A lawless city where every vice you can imagine is available for just a handful of silver and debauchery is half off.

That sounded about right for Rasen’s type. It was a place full of cartel activity, and a great place to go to become someone else. Rasen could easily continue whatever dirty work he was into in a city like this, and hopefully he could still be found there. He would go by a different name now, and perhaps have changed his appearance in some ways; hair color, facial hair, hopefully nothing too major or Xylaes would have to dig much, much deeper.

Xy left Elrothos Sol’sil passed out at one of the back tables of the underground brawling ring. He would wake up confused, no doubt, but likely with no memory of their conversation; just the memory of joining one of the fighters over in a darkened corner of the room, likely for lascivious purposes.

He stepped out onto the streets of Dalaran, inhaling the fresh night air before pulling on his coat to cover the sweat and blood-stained shirt. While a great many illegal activities happened in the Underbelly, it was usually best not to bring any attention to it in the main part of the city. He made his way back towards The Red Moon; showering and packing were on the agenda tonight, and then in the morning he would leave for Bilgewater. Taking out his comm device, he sent a quick message to Ouro, ‘Headed to Bilgewater in the AM, may be onto something. Gonna need some extra G for bribes’. Because of course he would need bribe money in a place like that. Time is money, after all, as is silence.

‘Wired to your account, keep me updated.’

Xylaes stopped in his tracks and blinked a few times when the notification came through that 500,000 gold had been sent to him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised, he had been to one of Ouro’s grand warehouses full of weapons, ammo, and other war necessities to pick up some supplies. He truly was a one-man cartel at this point, or were there others? Was he part of this now? A question for another day, but the thought didn’t bother him.

Money seemed to matter very little to Ouro, he never flaunted it nor boasted about it. If Xylaes had to guess, Ouro just preferred keeping himself distracted, and because he already knew this business well, he thrived with it. 

Or perhaps when it came to vengeance, no price was too high.

@daily-writing-challenge @ouroandar

[goonmaxxed]

⠀⠀annyeong! ━━━★ it would seem you have found @pervcoded's ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀sideblog!

welcome to goonmaxxed! this is my handy dandy before you follow post. before you read it tho, you might wanna check out my dni first.

hello! i'm luka, dog, blair, what have you- and it's nice to meet you 👋🏾! i'm a college student from america, painfully scatterbrained and puppy eager to talk to you guys. sorry in advance if i come off as strange in my interactions- you can rest assured i am trying my best to be normal LOL!! i adore a lot of things! i'm big into music, dungeons and dragons, critical media analysis, cats! sanrio! fashion! philosophy! art! and more- but let's get into the fun stuff first!

i'm (surprise!) a writer and roleplayer and have been doing both for many many years. this isn't my first run around the tumblr block, but i decided it was time for something a little different; my writing is majorly comprised of dark content starring fictional characters. i have a largely animanga focus, but some of my interests (and favs) at the moment are: fallout new vegas arcade, veronica jujutsu kaisen gojo, geto, yuuji alien stage dewey, isaac, ivan, luka chainsaw man denji, kishibe, quanxi, aki gokurakugai alma... kimetsu no yaiba sanemi... my hero academia izuku! slashers (horror villains)... games like boyfriend to death, price of flesh, and dol

and i'm likely to add more in the future. beyond that however, i'm a huge writing nerd! very obsessed with the craft, though i've only (extremely) recently became interested in reading and growing my technical knowledge on what it means to be a good writer. i'm most interested in gaining a sense of community, making friends, and bonding through writing - over egregiously horny anime characters, of course.

there are not many topics my blog won't touch on, though certain kinks: scat kink definitely/certain kinds of emetophilia/throwing necro in there too, why not, will not be explored on my page. i'm not interested in writing loli/shota/underage content on my page, and it can be assumed characters are 18+ unless otherwise states. i also will not be exploring real-world racial discrimination/raceplay in a sexual/pornographic context, this isn't the place for that. if any more no no's come to mind, this blurb will get updated.

as for what i am willing to write:

gn! and male! readers, trans readers, afab/amab readers, non-con, feral/unhinged/yandere tropes, a/b/o + hybrids (feral and humanoid traits, love body hair and fur), size difference. scent kinks/musk/marking/scenting, hands, feet, general body worship (sigh....<3), dub-con, incest (step or blood relatives), dom top characters, bottom reader, uppity readers, powerful readers, bimbos..., fantasy plots, action plots, porn with plot and porn without, feminine men, feminization + force fem, masculinization, masculine women. drug paraphernalia/drugging/aphrodisiacs, etc. and more to be added in the future. you can also just ask- if i don't want to, i'll let you know.

i hope it was fun getting to know me! i'll be seeing you over at @pervcoded!

[dailyanarchistposts]

Author: Kevin Carson Topic: health care

Alternet has an interview with Dr. Richard Deyo, who co-authored Hope or Hype: The Obsession with Medical Advances and the High Cost of False Promises. Some excellent bits of analysis, although (like a typical goo-goo) he gets the big picture wrong.

The problem with me-too drugs is a big one. Me-too drugs are chemically very similar to other drugs already available, yet they are typically marketed as if they were important new breakthroughs, and typically with very high prices. We found in many cases that new, expensive me-too drugs are not necessarily better than older generic and less expensive drugs. Because new and heavily marketed drugs seem like they must be better, manufacturers can command higher prices. That is an important driver of drug costs.

The central factor in this process is the state’s patent policies, which drastically inflate the profitability of the newer “me, too” drugs against much cheaper competitors that do very nearly the same thing. Indeed, the patent process has a huge distorting effect on R&D, since it results in so many resources being channelled into tweaking existing drugs just enough so that they can be re-patented as “new.” Then the drug reps hit every hospital and clinic in America, drop off some free samples and pamphlets, and (most M.D.s relying on drug industry handouts for their information on the new drugs that have come out since they left med school) the “me, too” drug becomes the new standard form of treatment.

The state having created the “honey pot” with its patent system, it is quite predictable that the state-enforced drug cartels and the white-coat Mafia (medical licensing boards with their mainly pharma-influenced “standards of practice”) should drive the industry toward a model focused on these high-cost drugs, and crowd out low-cost alternatives.

Any doc who (say) recommends Co-Enzyme Q-10 as a first recourse against congestive heart failure, or attempts some other low-cost departure from the drug-‘em-and-cut-‘em model, had better remember the state licensing board has its eye on him. Even stipulating that patents themselves are legitimate (which they are not), this latter practice has the effect of outlawing one of the most important defenses against monopoly: what Schumpeter called “product-substitution.”

The fact that the authors’ proposed response to this state capitalist sewer is even more state intervention (finessing the FDA approval process, more regulation of advertising, more procedural oversight of research), rather than eliminating the forms of state intervention that create the honey-pot in the first place, is mind-boggling. It’s like looking at one of those Rube Goldberg inventions.

Speaking of inventions.... One of the best regular features on MST3K was the weekly “Inventions” segment. My favorite was a treadmill with motorized wheels on the bottom, just in case you felt like moving around outside while you were walking. But with big government liberals making proposals like these, it’s hard for the farceurs on the Satellite of Love to compete.

[hahahmitski]

My 4th of July got cancelled because of rain so head cannons of fandoms I'm in.

Mphfpc

Everyone fainted because inflation price's. From Emma "$25 for a shirt! Nope Jacob what are these prices!" She then proceeded to burn down the store.

One time Olive overheard a future person rapping, and Olive wanted to show everyone something. Olive rapped about unicorns, drugs and how everyone was super cool. She sang her rap with swears and Miss Peregrine stopped it after she heard the 19th swear.

(kinda cannon) Bronwyn HATES clothing that are to soft on her skin.

Enorace and Fugh go on super secret double dates. Fugh caught them hugging and promised not to tell if they went on double dates.

Claire was really shy once she entered the loop. Miss Peregrine told the older kids she experienced stuff with starving and asked if one of them could help her. Fiona raised her hand without any hesitation. Fiona grew up with something like this. So Claire then warmed up to everyone. And besides Hugh Fiona whispers the Claire on occasion.

Enoch had 2 older brothers so he kinda treats Hugh and Millard as his older brothers from before.

Horace says "back in my day" when out in the present and a lot of people from the present stare at him or laugh at him.

Miss Peregrine misses her brothers deeply, but knows it's best to not to say anything about it.

Fiona and Hugh preformed "So Cold in Ireland" (Fiona on the electric guitar and Hugh singing). And Enoch was crying tears at trying to hold in tears. Once Fugh was done Enoch laughed so hard he fell to the ground and Hugh cried a lot not talking to Enoch for 2 months (The Bird forced him to talk to Enoch). Fiona simply glared at Enoch the first 5 times when they walked near each other.

Fiona was eyeing a guitar and told Hugh to ask Jacob why there was a funky looking guitar. Jacob told them it was an electric guitar. Fiona played the Guitar for her whole life. When Jacob heard that he bought the guitar for Fiona. Fiona hugged him really tight and gave him her favorite flowers as a gift.

Community (season 1 based sorry)

Abed has a secret obsession with Disney that only Troy knows (he accidently walked in on his Disney binge).

When some dude said that Annie and the play Annie are kind of the same Annie broke his nose.

Abed thinks of himself as Johnny from the Outsiders When comparing the group to the Outsiders (he is).

When someone brings up a topic Jeff doesn't like he has to RESIST the urge to cover his ears and go "lalalalalalalalalalalalala".

Grandpa will flex that he got like 20 dollars to a homeless person.

Shirley has bricks in her pockets (it fits don't ask why it just does) and hits anyone who hurt her family or friends.

Jeff will sit and cry in a corner if he doesn't have authority of the clan, again.

When someone said Chang was Jackie Chan, he was flattered and took a picture with them (they were drugs).

I think that the average The Cure listener is Abed. Abed introduced it to Troy. He claimed he didn't this genre of music, but listens to this type of music on the daily.

Britta has a shrine of Hello Kitty, but she would never give up her ego for anyone to know about her obsession.

Grandpa ate wood and it had bug it in. Grandpa got a few incurable diseases, but that didn't stop him. Yet.

Shirley kicked ass for Abed because this kid was calling picking a fight with him. Shirley ended up with a restraining order and ended up having to pay a lot of money to the kids grandma.

[lower-mkdr]

About Emma's current state (fourth letter spoilers)

In my mind, Emma is dead too. There's quite a complex way to explain it, but, at the same time it isn't something so surprising

She lost everything again after game 4 ended. She lost her memories, her love (the strong bond with her father that helped her try to keep up), her hopes (of having someone that wouldn't abandon her again), her hatred ("Revenge" came with a high price") and most importantly: herself.

The saddest part of her fourth letter that made me think a lot the first time I read it was how she had so many mixed emotions. At the end of the day, she's Emma Woods, ¿But who's Emma Woods, really, at that point? She doesn't knows. She can't recognize who she is, what she wants. She feels like she craves for something, the last thing her real identity gave her: she wants her family back, ¿But what's the point of that when she can't even remember them exactly? She has the best way to express it, it's a puzzle with a missing piece. The thing is, I believe that puzzle just have a few pieces, it's not even one who has a few pieces left to complete it, and she knows that. It hurts, a whole lot, but she doesn't knows why. That's why she feels like writing to someone she thinks she wants to remember is easier

Until game 4, Emma knew exactly what she wanted to achieve, it was clear to her, but forgetting almost everything just caused pure confusion and insecurity, one that she stopped feeling long time ago, or tried to avoid. Now she's just empty. And that hits so hard, because we know how much Emma adores and loves her father, how special this bond is to her and how this helped her realize many things. The drugs gave her something she could get attached to, to finally let out how affected she was by something she went through a l o n e.

Being alone most of her life didn't hit her as hard as when she actually knew what happened with him. Emma's whole motivation at first was trying to be strong enough to try to keep up alone, even if she already felt dead, she really tried to search for ways to feel alive

It's really sad.

All she wanted was to fill this void with something, she ended craving something she lost and tried to replace it with an object as a way to cope up the traumatic events and reality that were still hard for her to accept, that's a part of the bigger pieces in her puzzle that makes her now so empty: Not being able to remember who gave her a motivation to try to keep up living for.

Forgetting about her father makes her feel weird, because there's some part inside of her that still misses him, but since she can't remember at all, it becomes a sensitive topic she tries to avoid. She doesn't knows how to feel. She doesn't knows if she really wants to remember him or not and she may be even a little bit afraid of it

Again, she doesn't knows what to do, expect, or how to feel. It gets colder, and her memories and mind are a huge mess. She says she isn't really alone anymore, yet, ¿How much can we trust that? She's not happy, at least I don't think she is, by how she express many things in her letter. I remember I even thought once "That's just almost the same as being dead/feeling dead again", and now that I thought about it, I think it really is

[arielhopepeace]

This is a Javier Peña and Harry Styles (again lol) short story for all my fellow Pedro Pascal lovers 💕 This one isn’t gonna be as sweet as the Joel one. Y/N’s life kinda sucks lmfao. I will be posting the trigger warnings since some of the content is sensitive! This was a story suggestion by my best friend who doesn’t have a tumblr otherwise I’d tag her lol. BUT I will be coming out with another Joel story after this one so, feel free to follow me if you’d like to read that when it comes out!

As always, enjoy ❤️

Part two is here

Part three is here

Final part is here

Part One

18+ only

Tw: prostitution, abusive father, mention of drugs, mention of death, extreme violence, guns, murder, abuse in general, mention of sexual assault, implied smut (there’s gonna be a lot of this, she’s a prostitute 😬)

I’d also like to quickly say that I’ll never ever write sexual assault into my stories. It’s just a topic that is too sensitive for me, and for many others out there. There are mentions of it because men are sick and twisted in this world, but I will never describe it happening, or have it happen to y/n. Just a heads up on that ❤️ Anyway, onto the story to escape reality…

4,200 words

There's nothing that I love more than the scenery of Columbia; the beaches, mountains, forests. For the last few months that I've lived here with my father, I've always felt melancholy about the fact that I wasn't born in this beautiful country.

The move was a necessary change in order for my dad to be more successful with his business ventures. I despise the man, but he's filthy rich due to running with the narcos of Medellin. Of course he's never given me anything from his wealth, and instead has pawned me off to be a prostitute for extra income.

I tried my best to fight him on it, but to no avail. You can't argue with a powerful, dangerous man like him. All it does is get me badly beaten. He doesn't like to hit me often since it's bad for business, as he likes to say. Men don't generally like to sleep with women who are all battered and bruised. They think I'll carry some sort of emotional baggage and try to cling to them for security.

Truthfully, I'm very numb to all of it; the beatings, the sex, the disgusting clients, everything. There's no point in me feeling bad for myself. After all, I'm still the daughter of an important drug dealer who works for the drug dealer of Colombia, Pablo Escobar. Nobody would dare to hurt me, since it could possibly end up with them "disappearing". I don't think my father would ever kill someone for my sake, though. But I know he has for his.

It's been a difficult transition since I know hardly any Spanish, and that is the only language anyone speaks here. There's been countless encounters where I've been left feeling imbecilic and witless. My father never bothered to teach me the language, but hired his own personal tutor in order to better conduct business. This way, nobody will be able to talk about anything right in front of his face without him being able to understand. He never wants to be made a fool of.

The house my father lives in is incredibly opulent and pristine. It's just outside of Medellin, sitting on an emerald hill overlooking a vast crystal blue lake that shines brilliantly in the sun. Anytime I'm there for a visit, it makes me wish I lived in that damned mansion. Instead, I have to live in a shitty apartment in the more run-down side of town.

My place is close to one of the whorehouses where I like to sometimes find clients. Usually, I'll dress nicely with a provocative touch and head to a bar, fishing for men whose eyes linger on my breasts. The proposition I set is only said with my body, and once the man understands that I can't speak Spanish, not much else needs to be said, anyway. I'll say my price before we leave, choosing a number I'm comfortable with charging and pronouncing.

I have yet to find someone who refuses to pay, or is unnecessarily rough. It's a relief, because that was one of my biggest concerns going into this. My dad doesn't think that my job has any danger, but he also couldn't give two shits about me, it seems.

There's a slight sense of giddy elation that courses through me, knowing that I'm able to take the day to myself. All I want to do is go to the clinic to do my weekly health check, and then to my father's lakeside house to bask in the sun while he's away for a while today.

He always has to be made aware of my company, just in case he were conducting business and I startled one of his ruthless peers. They all know what I look like, and a few have even solicited sex from me before, but I'd rather be cautious about it than get shot for showing up unannounced.

Once the clinic gives me yet another clean bill of health, I go on my way to my dad's mansion. The warm air whips my hair around the car from the open windows, allowing me to breathe in the crisp feeling of summer. It trails goosebumps of satisfaction along my skin, a smile splitting my face as I giggle lightly to myself.

There aren't many moments when I'm truly happy, but being alone on the drive to my dad's is definitely one of them.

  To my dismay, my father is home, his smooth, lavish car parked at the top of his gated cobblestone driveway. He was supposed to be out all day, but I'm sure he'll explain why he's here so early.

I step out of my run-down sedan, closing the creaking, rusted door shut with a slight slam. My breathing is a bit more shaky as I approach the front door, not really wanting to face my dad today. He knew I was coming, though, so he shouldn't be mad, right?

The living room is relatively quiet as I enter, being greeted by one of the maids in the foyer.

"Dad?" I call out, hoping he doesn't answer me.

His raised voice echoes through the halls, my high heels taking me clicking down the marbled pathway, the walls are so tall it feels like they could swallow me whole at any moment. There's some profane Spanish coming from my dad's office, and I inwardly kick myself as I push the ajar door to it open slowly, not knowing if he's going to scream at me for this.

He has his front turned towards the countless amount of books that he never touches, an obvious strain in his irate tone. The large, gray mobile phone is pressed to his ear, the antennae shining silver above his head by several inches.

My eyes widen as he turns to me, my body immediately cowering in fear as he takes in my presence. He ends the call, gripping the phone so tightly in his fist, I'm worried he'll crack it.

"Hey, y/n," he says quickly. "What have I said about being in here when I'm on calls?"

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I just wanted you to know that I was here. I'm sorry," I apologize again. All I ever do is apologize to this man when really I want to punch him.

He holds up a large, murderous hand, shaking it side to side. "It's fine," he snaps. "You do what you have to, I don't care. Just leave me be. Got it?"

Without his eyes meeting mine for even a second, I nod, scurrying down the halls as fast as I can without breaking an ankle in my heels. I'm once again greeted by the warmth of the air and sun, surprisingly able to breathe better out here than I was inside.

"You're here," a British voice says beside me.

My head turns to see the charming, dashing Harry, my father's right hand man. "Oh, hi, Harry." I spot the gun sticking out of his belt, making me swallow hard.

He stuffs his ring-clad fingers into his powder blue suit pockets, a small smile settled onto his pink lips. "What are you doing here today?"

I point to the lake over the hill. "Gonna sun tan for a while. Need to not look so—gringa."

Harry chuckles lightly. "I think your skin is perfect as it is."

His words make my cheeks feel hot, and I turn my face away briefly. "Thank you."

"How's business? Anybody need correcting, darling?" he asks with a hint on concern.

I've only known Harry for about a month, and he's been nothing but lovely since I met him. He's always had a bit of protectiveness towards me and I'm not sure why. We've done nothing but have conversations with each other, and he worships my father, a man who seemingly can't stand me. Maybe he feels like he needs to protect me just because he's obsessed with my dad. That reminder always turns me off to him, even if his dreamy looks and refreshing accent do the exact opposite.

"No," I shake my head. "Not everybody knows who I am, but those that do are very—respectful."

"If there's ever a time when somebody isn't," he lifts his suit jacket to flash the grip of his pistol, "you'll tell me, yeah?"

"Yes," I nod. "Thank you."

Harry tosses me a dimply grin, his teeth neat and white. "No need to thank me, y/n. You should always be respected."

I go to tell him that I'm respected by everyone except for my father, but I refrain. Do I think Harry would ever hurt me? Probably not. But that one percent of uncertainty is enough for me to keep my mouth shut.

When I'm settled near the lake, I strip off my dress, kicking my heels to the side shortly after. Being laid out in only my matching black bra and thong with the sun licking my skin is more euphoric than any sex I've had in Colombia.

The men haven't really interested me in the slightest. Of course there's been the few attractive ones who have approached me, but even if it feels good, it's not often that I'm pushed past that delicious precipice. I've yet to have a client who cared about my pleasure, but they're not paying for mine. They're paying for theirs and theirs alone.

My eyes are closed as I relax my shoulders into the grass, allowing my body to be consumed by the intense rays. Being here with nothing but the sound of nature puts me so much at ease that I sometimes fall asleep. The birds that sing their songs proudly above are all giving me unique, individual lullabies, and I love every single one.

The distant sound of shouting makes me sit up, looking up towards the house for any indication on what could be happening. I abandon my dress and heels, my pulse immediately rising from the anticipation of what is unfolding at the top of the hill.

My body freezes as I see several men on their knees in front of my father with Harry standing beside him. He has his pistol tucked underneath both of his hands that are crossed over his front. My dad has his large pistol pointed at one of the men's heads.

Even if I spoke Spanish, there's no way I'd be able to tell what they're saying. They're too far away. I do my best to stay out of sight as I move in closer, creeping behind a shrub that lines the pool, giving it a green privacy gate.

I jump involuntarily at the sound of a single bullet being emptied from the chamber, one of the men falling back into a puddle of his own blood and brain matter.

My sweaty palm flings to my mouth, tears unable to escape from the shock I feel in my body. Of course I know that my father kills people, but I've never actually seen him do it.

He presses the barrel to the next man's forehead who is speaking with a trembling voice to my cold-faced dad. It's eerie how he has no empathy or emotion, only wrath and strategy. I've been convinced that he's a psychopath since I was a kid, but now I truly believe it.

There were nights before my mom died that they'd argue, and he'd slap her around like he does to me. It always made me furious, but what the hell is a kid supposed to do in that situation? The only thing I could do was imagine I was somewhere else that was far away, like a tropical island.

But here I reside in a tropical land, not at all living the way I'd imagine when I was a child. This is hell simply being disguised by pretty packaging and a sparkly bow.

The next man falls back after a shot, the third one not even being interrogated before my father shoots him dead, tucking his gun into the back waistband of his pants. A few men begin to get to work moving the bodies as my dad walks away, Harry looking down at them.

He shifts as if he's thinking, his own gun being wedged between his hip and his pants. I fall to my bare knees onto the soft blades of grass, curling up behind the bush as I hold myself tightly, still not having shed a single tear. Why can't I cry for the dead? Am I as psychotic as my father?

As I stand to walk away back towards my things at the bottom of the hill, a voice stops me in my tracks, my body freezing in place as if Medusa herself has turned me to stone.

"Y/n?" Harry comes into my view. "What are you doing up here?"

Panic. The only thing I can do right now is panic.

"Please don't hurt me," my voice wavers. "I'm sorry."

His green eyes soften, his hands stretching out towards me. His palms graze my arms, my eyes squeezing shut from fear. "Hey, I'd never hurt you. Look at me," he says gently.

Reluctantly, my eyes flip up to his, meeting his delicate gaze. "I heard yelling so I came up here. I didn't mean to see anything."

"Shh," he coos calmly. "Let me walk you back down to the lake."

With reluctant, frozen feet, I begin to tread down the hill with Harry's hand gingerly gripping the crease of my arm. I'm not sure why I feel so terrified of him right now. He's obviously killed people before, too, but I'm just the most concerned about him killing me. What if he tells my father that I was snooping? I don't know what he'd do to me.

My dress and heels lay lifeless beside the lake, my eyes fixed on them instead of the tall man beside me.

"Please don't tell my dad," I plead quietly. "I don't know what he'd do to me, Harry."

Harry tilts my chin up, giving me a comforting smile. "I never saw you, darling."

"Who were they?" I ask softly.

"Rats," he answers firmly with a furrowed brow. "They were giving information to the DEA that just got into the country. You know it's serious if America is getting involved."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Will you be caught?"

"Not if we're smart."

"Okay." My arms wrap around my midsection. "Thank you for your discretion."

Harry chuckles, nodding. "I'll always protect you."

My brows furrow. "Even against my father?"

He stands gazing at me for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "It depends on the circumstances."

Fuck, that's disappointing.

"Right," I nod, picking up my dress. "I think I'm gonna head out. I've had enough of the cartel for today."

Harry grazes my face with the side of his finger, the cool metal of his ring electrifying me. "Please know that I want to protect you from everybody, including your dad. It's just in certain situations, my hands would be tied."

"Like if I was a rat?"

He nods. "Exactly. I'd lose my head too if I protected you."

"I'd never do that, though. I know better."

Harry leans in and presses a delicate peck to my cheek. "I know, darling. You're too lovely."

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He beams, stroking my hair and tucking it behind my ear. "I like you, y/n. You're fucking beautiful and incredibly bright. I love any time that we talk."

Butterflies settle into the pit of my stomach, making my face turn hot. "And you don't care that I'm a prostitute?"

Harry shakes his head. "You didn't ask to be one in the first place."

I sigh as I sit down beside the lake, looking at the glimmering water. "I begged not to be, but he just—"

Harry rests beside me, tossing his arm around my shoulders. "I know. I'm sorry I can't protect you in those moments, either."

"I'm used to not having protection, Harry. It's fine."

He sighs, gently easing my head to rest on his shoulder as we both gaze at the water. My body relaxes in his embrace, my face turning to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Harry lifts my head up by my chin, quickly and suddenly capturing my lips against his, making me gasp in my throat.

It's not at all that I'm opposed to this, but rather it was extremely unexpected.

"What are you doing?" I ask, his hands on my waist.

He pulls away, his eyes having darkened. "Do you want me to stop?"

With a small smirk I shake my head, pushing my head forward for more of his delectable lips.

We lay on the field naked and breathless, my legs shaky and weak from my orgasm, and my body glistening with sweat just like Harry's. I had no idea that today would turn out like this, but I can't say that I'm disappointed.

I gaze up at him from his tattooed chest, his golden cross necklace buried in his sprinkling of chest hair. He peers down at me, smiling as he pulls me up for another sweet kiss.

"I have to go," he says softly. "He'll be wondering where I went."

"Okay," I answer quietly, sitting up.

Harry slides on his briefs and pants, handing me my things with a gentle grin. "Let me walk you to your car."

Once we're both fully dressed, we make our way up the hill, Harry's hand in mine the whole way. He's being rather romantic about it which is not at all something I'm used to. And he actually made me have an orgasm, another thing that isn't ever achieved for me.

He pulls me in for a swift kiss, his hand at the small of my back as I giggle, my fingers twisting into his soft brown curls.

"Oh," he says quickly as if remembering something. Harry pulls out his wallet and hands me a thousand dollars all splayed out, a bashful smile on his face. "I don't want to take advantage of you, y/n. Please take it."

"That's way too much, Harry. And also, clients don't ever make me orgasm."

He chuckles, pulling me in for another kiss. "Consider me the best client, then."

Reluctantly, I take the money, shaking my head. "This is the most I've ever been paid for one session."

"God, I'd give you more if you wouldn't make fun of me."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You're sweet. You didn't have to pay me."

He pulls my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I wanted to."

With one last glance to the handsome British man, I get into my car, Harry giving me a small wave as I drive away, his figure disappearing in my rear view mirror.

The encounter with him has left me feeling giddy and excited. Not only was he thoughtful towards me, but also just thoroughly romantic the entire time. I wasn't expecting Harry to ever become a client, but god, I'll look forward to the next time that I see him.

Later on, I decide to head to a bar near my house, just wanting to get a couple of drinks in my system for the night. I'm definitely not interested in anybody soliciting me since it's my day off, and I'm hoping nobody does.

I'm perched on a barstool, ordering myself a drink by only saying the names of the alcohols since I don't know how to make it more complex of a request. I've had to acquire the taste of neat tequila and vodka, which now I don't mind. The buzz comes on fast and it doesn't require me to know any Spanish of any kind.

A man sits beside me, saying something in Spanish to which I ignore, pretending as if he's not talking to me.

Then, in perfect English, he says, "No Spanish then, huh?"

With surprise and shock fixed onto my face, I turn to look at the man beside me. He has tanned skin and soft brown eyes with a dashing smile that sports a black mustache above it. His hair is also a slightly shaggy, shiny black that is flipped to the middle of his forehead. He's truly very attractive, but I really wanted to take the night off.

"No," I laugh slightly. "Hardly any."

The man chuckles as he sips his drink, a lit cigarette in the other hand. "Then what are you doing in a Spanish-speaking country?"

I wiggle in my seat, not wanting to give him any information about myself. "I could ask the same thing about you. You don't sound like you're from here."

"I'm not," he beams. "I was born in Chile, but then moved to America shortly after."

"And what are you doing in Colombia?" I ask with my head propped up on my hand.

"Vacation. I'm here with a few friends."

My head turns around to scan the bar. "Are they here now?"

"No, they're at their hotels with their wives."

"And you don't have a wife?" I laugh.

"No. It's hard to with my job."

My brows raise. "Oh, yeah? And what exactly is your job?"

"Would you be impressed if I told you I'm a pilot?" he chuckles with an arched black brow.

"Very," I giggle, "but only if that's the truth."

"And why would I lie?" he asks as he leans in, his voice low.

"Fine, Mr. Pilot. You wouldn't mind paying for my drinks then, would you?"

"Not in the slightest."

I giggle, shaking his hand as I stand off my barstool. "Then you have a good night."

With a victorious smile on my face, I leave the bar, making my way back to my apartment that isn't too far away. I thought it'd be better to walk rather than drive in case I drink too much, which in this case I haven't. Maybe a little tipsy, sure, but not enough to be impaired while driving.

There's a brief moment where I think I hear someone behind me, but I turn and nobody is there, making me shrug it off. I come up to the next alleyway, instinctively turning to look down it to find it empty. Perhaps it's the alcohol or the unsettled feeling that nighttime gives me, but I can't help but feel like I'm being followed.

I make it back to my apartment safely, climbing up the stairs in the building with groans of disapproval, my feet aching from my heels. At my door, I push the key in, being greeted by my shitty apartment that still somehow envelops me with a sense of comfort.

Even though it's a rather run-down section of town, and a less than adequate building, I still feel the most at ease here.

My tight dress slides off my body with a gentle tug, slipping on a nightgown before I tuck myself into bed. My mind flicks back to Harry being thrust inside of me, and his beautiful face twisted with pleasure. It causes me to clench around nothing just from the memory of him, and I know that he's going to be my new addiction.

As I shut my eyes, there's a knock on my apartment door to which I groan. Who the hell is here this late at night? With a wobbly, tired and tipsy walk to my front door, I pull it open, a man bursting inside suddenly.

"What the fuck?" I ask, watching as I can now make out the man to be one of my father's associates, José. "What are you doing here?"

"We were raided," he says with his back turned to me, holding several keys of cocaine in his arms. "I'm hiding this here."

"What? No the fuck you're not!" I shout.

José pulls his gun out and draws it on me, making my hands fly up immediately. "How about you shut your stupid bitch mouth and listen to me?"

"I'm gonna tell my dad—"

He scoffs, stuffing the cocaine beneath my couch cushions. "Who do you think cleared me to come here? Ever think that maybe your dad just doesn't give a shit about you?"

My emotions are once again held at bay. Why the fuck can't I cry?

"Just please hurry up and get out."

He finishes hiding the rest of the powder, finally lowering his gun. "You're lucky I don't fuck you right here for being such a bitch."

I swallow, my eyes staying on the floor as I decide to not answer him.

"Don't act like you wouldn't love it," he laughs. "It's your job to be a whore." José gives me a rough smack across my face, making me fall to the floor as I grip it. "Be happy that's all I'm doing before I leave." He slams my apartment door.

For a bit after he leaves, I'm sat against my living room wall gripping my cheek that throbs with a stinging pain. This isn't a feeling I'm unfamiliar with. The burn in my face only reminds me that I really am worthless here, and nothing more than a prostitute with no life worth living.

****

[crowleysaziraphale2003]

Hi lovelies,

Tumblr Fic Commissions

TW: Dark topics briefly mentioned.

Prices

I know the prices below may seem expensive, but I'm a broke uni student who desperately needs the money. I've been writing for fifteen years, and study Creative Writing at undergraduate level. I've been receiving high grades for my work. I've also been writing on AO3 for almost five years now, where I've written free commissions before. Here's a link for a sample of my writing. I accept requests via Tumblr, Instagram, Threads and AO3.

<500 words=£5.

500-1000 words=£10.

1000-1500 words=£15.

1500-2000 words-£20.

2000-2500 words-£25.

2500+ words=£30.

♡ Bonuses ♡

+£5 for addition of OCs.

+£5 for it to be written within three days.

+£10 for fandoms I'm not in or historical/ scientific fics (research).

I take payments via PayPal only, and 50% deposit (refundable for up to 7 days, should you change your mind).

Fandoms I'll write for, at no extra cost: Yuri On Ice, Heartstopper, Good Omens, Andi Mack, Bojack Horseman, Chicago Med, any Osemanverse stuff as well as Heartstopper, Julie and the Phantoms, Percy Jackson, Beetlejuice, Legally Blonde, Mean Girls, Mamma Mia, Waitress and Heathers (former musical theatre kid, what can I say).

I will write:

-Fluff.

-Chaotic fics.

-Group chat fics.

-Silly fics.

-Funny fics.

-Angst fics.

-Character death, if not gory.

-Hurt and comfort.

-Hurt and no comfort.

-Arguments.

-Poly relationships.

-Open relationships.

-Most ships, if any characters involved are of age.

-Enemies to lovers.

-Best friends to lovers.

-Break-ups.

-Song fics.

-Fics that are entirely dialogue.

-Fics that are entirely prose (such as an action scene, or insight into a character's thoughts).

-Platonic fics.

-Friendship fics.

-Found family.

-Coffee shop AU.

-Flower shop/ Tattoo Parlour AU.

-University AU.

-High School AU.

-Historical AU.

-Canon Divergence.

-Fics that read like/ are similar to poems.

-Sick fics.

-Whump.

-Fics involving non-sexual physical intimacy (hugging, holding hands etc. I don't count kissing as sexual as an ace person and will add it to my fics either way).

-I may allude to sex in a fic without writing it.

-Fics dealing with gender dysphoria.

-Fics dealing with questioning sexuality or gender.

-Fics surrounding identity.

-Fics with religious trauma/ guilt.

-Fics with religion as a positive aspect of a character's life.

-Disability as a positive thing.

-Mental health issues, including heavier topics. I will include a TW, of course.

-Fics with a happy ending.

-Fics set in space.

-Fantasy or other genres.

-Heavy topics, such as abortion, AIDS and euthanasia. I think it's important to normalise discussing these things.

-A variety of other AUs, but I will not age underage characters up.

That aside, DM me on Instagram or on my Tumblr asks, or comment on one of my AO3 fics, as with all requests.

I will NOT write:

-Smut (I'm asexual, so for me, it's uncomfortable to write. It's a personal preference. Plus, I've never written it before, and I would like to work in education as well as write, and do not want it showing up during background checks. Please respect this).

-Scenes with drug abuse of any kind.

-Zoophilia.

-Pedophilia.

-Gore.

-Excessive violence (lots of blood, stabbing, shooting. Fight scenes are fine.)

-Anything homophobic, zionist, transphobic, Islamophobic, xenophobic, anti-semitic, racist, sexist, ableist or discriminatory in any way, shape or form. I will write about experiences of ableism for a disabled character, homophobia for a gay character etc but will not write works with the message that these forms of discrimination are acceptable. It should go without saying that they're not.

-Pretty much any non-sexual kink. Again, a personal preference.

-Omegaverse stuff. Or anything with dark, damaged "alpha males" with anger issues involved.

Unless you paid an extra £5 for a fic to come out quicker, commissions may take me up to a few weeks, depending on how many I have to write, my uni workload and stuff going on in my personal life. I will keep you posted about it consistently.

That said, thanks for engaging with this post! I am very grateful for all of your support. It means a lot to me 💗

[mariacallous]

If you search for the phrase “abortion pills” on the messaging service Telegram, an array of public channels and groups pop up. Some have names like “Buy Abortion Pills” or “Abortion pills Mifepristone Misoprostol” while others offer advice on symptoms and best practices “after the pregnancy comes out.” On May 3, a post on “ABORTION PILLS MARKET” included a photo of a blister pack labeled as abortion pills, alongside the caption, “We are legit.”

There are currently more than 200 public groups and channels on Telegram that explicitly mention selling abortion pills in their name or description, a WIRED investigation found. At the end of May, the last month for which we have complete data, 57 of the 211 groups we uncovered were active, with at least one message sent in that month.

Activity found on the platform related to selling abortion pills traces back to at least 2016, and many of the channels and groups cater to customers around the world. In the year since the US Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in June 2022, though, there’s a new focus on marketing to people in the United States, according to WIRED’s review of roughly 47,000 public messages scraped from these channels. And in general, public activity on Telegram related to abortion pills has been exploding since last summer.

“Since its creation, Telegram has actively moderated harmful content including the sale of medications,” says Telegram spokesperson Remi Vaughn. “Telegram's moderators use a combination of proactive monitoring of public chats in addition to accepting user reports in order to remove content that breaches our terms of service.”

Shady drug sellers and scams are nothing new on digital platforms. A nearly universal experience of the early consumer internet, after all, was receiving spam emails claiming to offer penis enlargement pills. And in the decades since, dark web markets have fueled illegal distribution of drugs globally. Like other prescription drugs, though, abortifacients are legal in some countries but not others. Furthermore, in some places they can be prescribed for certain purposes but not others, leaving patients to potentially seek ways to fill in the gaps for their own care. In the US, access to reproductive care, including abortifacients, varies widely from state to state.

Despite the clear uptick in activity on Telegram related to abortion pills, researchers say that they don’t see evidence of a massive new movement to illegally sell abortifacients to Americans. Kat Green, an abortion access researcher and founder of the online data analysis platform Endora, says that illegal sales of abortifacients, and corresponding questions about legitimacy and safety, aren’t currently central topics in US abortion access work. In part, this is likely because it’s still legal in many US states for patients to get abortion pills by mail. And prescribed use of these pills, also known as medication abortion, is markedly on the rise in the US. But as new and pending legal challenges threaten to further curtail access, illicit sales could eventually expand.

Analysis of frequently used phrases in the Telegram message trove WIRED collected shows that a large number of these groups and channels don’t just claim to sell abortion pills. Phrases like “weight loss,” “muscle mass,” and “erection pill” were among the 10 most popular two-word phrases that appeared in the data set. And thousands of additional messages mentioned “benzos,” “painkillers,” “Xanax,” “weed,” “coke,” and “guns.” In all, at least a quarter of the channels appear to be hawking more than just abortifacients.

Hundreds of messages from the data that contained pricing information indicate that the average cost of purchasing a purported pack of abortion pills on Telegram is currently $135.

WIRED’s investigation also indicates that the abortion pill ecosystem on Telegram is likely a small world. Analysis of the members and administrators who send messages in the groups and channels shows that many of the accounts are likely controlled by the same individuals. For example, a user going by the name Dr. Pooja Gupta has sent 1,500 messages across nine channels or groups advertising the sale of abortion pills. Dr. Pooja uses a WhatsApp number that is referenced by administrators in 14 additional channels. And some of them use similar names like Doctor Jain and Doctor Reenu. Many of these messages also referenced the same website.

After joining several of Dr. Pooja Gupta’s channels, WIRED reporters received a private Telegram message from a user known as Manisha Gupta offering medication abortion for $90. When WIRED reporters expressed interest in making a purchase, a person prepared the order and sent an image showing a blister pack of pills, and an envelope with that day's date as well as the address WIRED provided for shipment. The return address written on the envelope was a location in Mumbai, India.

Still messaging on Telegram, a person then sent account information for Punjab National Bank and directed WIRED to submit payment through a service called Remitly. WIRED reporters did not complete the transaction. When asked whether they have had more US-based customers in recent months, the person said, “since new laws I am send to America much more.”

Some groups on Telegram have US-specific names or descriptions, like “Abortion Pills in Republican States,” but most have more generic names and claim to deliver to dozens of countries. For instance, one of the largest and most active channels in the data set dates from August 2021 and is apparently specifically geared toward delivering abortion pills to Dubai, Kuwait, Qatar, and the Philippines—all countries where legal access to abortion is restricted.

Last June, researchers from the security firm DarkOwl noticed a sharp increase in discussions on the dark web about connecting abortion-seekers in the US with abortifacients and other resources. Some vendors that already sold illegal drugs said they would begin selling medication abortion as well. At the time, though, the researchers said that they didn’t actually see abortion pills widely available for sale on most dark web markets, but that “they are available for purchase via threads in discussion forums, as well as classified-style advertisements on transient paste services.”

Ian Gray, director of analysis and research at the security firm Flashpoint, says that turning points like the Covid-19 pandemic or the fall of Roe for the US can spark trends in digital scams and illicit online sales. But a survey Gray conducted for WIRED of dark web advertising targeted at the US over the last year did not reveal a dramatic spike in content related to abortifacients.

“At a high level, it's difficult to identify a significant increase in chatter related to abortion pills due to Roe v Wade being overturned last year,” Gray says. He notes, though, that “there are a limited number of posts within the past year in marketplaces, which may indicate demand. Most posts, at least on Twitter and some within Telegram, are in Brazilian Portuguese, likely due to a ban on abortion pills.”

As with many medical procedures, the stakes are extremely high in medication abortion. But the patchwork of laws and access in the US could make the landscape particularly fraught for patients in need who may eventually turn to illicit markets out of desperation.

[konsultingfizzician]

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