#GOLD ENEMY + ANEURYSM

[autos-official]

(Looks at the data from @vexwerewolf) i mean... our showrooms have only the first phrase because its people born in a metavault

Dont ask. We GENUINELY asked MONIST-1 RA and she/they/whatever said "idk" and uhm YEAH

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 42: Falme

Spoiler alert: I hate the Seanchan. Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate them. Also I guess this post spoils the whole book series or something? You probably don't want to keep reading if that's going to bother you. If instead my hatred of the Seanchan bothers you, please immediately jump in a lake and stay there the rest of your life.

This chapter has a Seanchan helmet because we're in Seanchan territory. Have I mentioned lately that the Seanchan suck?

She could not imagine doing that to any woman, not even Moiraine or Liandrin. Well, maybe Liandrin, she admitted sourly.

Dramatic irony re: Moghedien getting leashed, though as Nynaeve's thought process shows it's a small step for her at this point.

That looked like Padan Fain, she thought incredulously. It couldn’t be. Not here.

Get used to running into randoms you last saw halfway across the continent, Nynaeve. It's going to happen A LOT.

Nynaeve had combed out her braid, and her gold ring, the serpent eating its own tail, now nestled under her dress beside Lan’s heavy ring on the leather cord around her neck.

Ah the symbolism. Nynaeve is hiding her agency from the oppressive Seanchan, pretending as she is in Emond's Field terms not to be an adult. And though she may not like the Aes Sedai, the tower and the power are close to her heart now - and everything is all tangled up with the relationship she wants but cannot have with Lan.

“No? How much money do we have left? You have been ‘not hungry’ very often at mealtimes the last few days.”

Elayne reminds us here that she's sheltered, not stupid.

“If I were being held prisoner, I would not help my captors find other women to enslave. Although, the way these Falmen behave, you would think they were lifelong servants of those who should be their enemies to the death.”

Of course sometimes the difference is a very thin line. Elayne really has no idea about the pressures the Falmen (especially the damane!) are under.

Still, two leashed creatures trotted along with the patrol, like wingless birds with coarse leather skin, and sharp beaks higher above the cobblestones than the helmeted heads of the soldier. Their long, sinewy legs looked as if they could run faster than any horse.

*I* think they're cute, but I'm insane. (And anyway it's not their fault they're Seanchan.)

...if we are caught, I swear that before they kill us, or do whatever they do, I will beg them on bended knees to let me stripe you from top to bottom with the stoutest switch I can find!

I like to think they'd let her.

Actually if you think about it Tuon and early book Nynaeve could get along quite well if you could just get Nynaeve over the slavery thing (you couldn't, but maybe in a Mirror World where she has an aneurysm that changes exactly one part of her personality).

She had thought, like Elayne, that the damane must all be prisoners eager to escape, but it had been the woman in the collar who raised the pry.

It's crazy what you can make people do when you torture all the hope and joy out of them. I don't even think the damane loyalty is the least bit unrealistic.

At first she had thought some of the Falmen submission, at least, must be a pose, but she had found no evidence of any resistance at all.

Anyone who tried is probably long dead or at best fled.

Monsters and Aes Sedai. How can you fight monsters and Aes Sedai?

Better figure it out quick, Nynaeve. That's the assignment for Tarmon Gaidon.

Nynaeve had heard many tales of women and girls being seized on the streets or brought in from the villages; they all went into those houses, and if they were seen again, they wore a collar.

If. I'm not sure what possibility is sadder, that they resist until they die from the punishments or that they've been tossed onto the boats as part of the return haul.

The trees were all but leafless, but the damane were still taken out for air, whether they wanted it or not.

Another way they're treated like dogs.

Damane were possessions.

God I hate the Seanchan so much.

Though I'm starting to hate my ebook reader's note function more. Virtually none of these have been in order and I'm having to copy paste like crazy.

Lighting a candle beyond the reach of her arm would have made Egwene vomit. Once Renna had ordered her to juggle her tiny balls of light with the bracelet lying on the table. Remembering still made her shudder.

And I'm sure Renna sees it all as a kindness, as a way of letting Egwene feel the horror of the a'dam in controlled conditions so that she learns her "limitations" instinctively. It would be terrible to Renna if she'd worked out an escape plan that involved her channeling without realizing what the consequences were; she could hurt herself and then the Seanchan might have one less victim!

Her knife was still in its sheath at her waist, though. Egwene had been surprised when Min first showed up wearing it, but it seemed the Seanchan trusted everyone. Until they broke a rule.

An effective bit of fascism that, since complete restriction of everything would result in more rebellions (nothing to lose) and also make it impossible to get anything done (so many people needing knives for non-violent purposes that the Seanchan approve of).

‘Everyone has a place in the Pattern,’ ” she mimicked, “ ‘and the place of everyone must be readily apparent.’

Meanwhile, a young shepherd is taking his first steps towards becoming king of the world.

Overly stratified societies have so many issues. You can just tell that Seanchan must be much more repressive than the subcontinent on so many topics.

“I don’t think there will be any going back for me ever,” Egwene said, sighing, sinking down on her bed.

Poor Egwene. She's so strong and even she can barely hold up under this hell.

Earth is one of the Five Powers that was strongest in men. When I picked out those rocks, she took me outside the town, and I was able to point right to an abandoned iron mine. It was all overgrown, and there wasn’t any opening to be seen at all, but once I knew how, I could feel the iron ore still in the ground.

This is about the only time we don't see Egwene happy to be exceptional, even. That's how much they've hurt her.

“They can’t even help themselves, Min. I only talked to one—her name is Ryma; the sul’dam don’t call her that, but that’s her name; she wanted to make sure I knew it—and she told me there is another. She told me in between bouts of tears. She’s Aes Sedai, and she was crying, Min! She has a collar on her neck, they make her answer to Pura, and she can’t do anything more about it than I can. They captured her when Falme fell. She was crying because she’s beginning to stop fighting against it, because she cannot take being punished anymore. She was crying because she wants to take her own life, and she cannot even do that without permission. Light, I know how she feels!”

It is absolutely exceptional that they even drove an Aes Sedai to tears. She passed the same Accepted and shawl tests as all the other Aes Sedai and as brutally hellish and over the top as they are, they do produce strong and dedicated women. And in four months they Seanchan have all but broken her completely.

“Damane are not allowed to touch a weapon of any kind.”

One wonders if Deira came up with this herself, or if it was added later as the a'dam design was refined. If it was added later, it suggests that either the damane brainwashing, powerful as it is, can't be trusted to fully overrule the suicidal despair these women must be left with OR that the Seanchan are so pointlessly cruel that even though they have nothing to lose they still must dehumanize their victims.

“Her name is Ryma. I have to remember her name, not the name they’ve put on her. She is Ryma, and she’s Yellow Ajah, and she has fought them as long and as hard as she could.

In a way this gives Egwene a parallel with Rand's future behavior, in that he too has names he must remember, but Egwene's reasoning is of course way more healthy and actually a kindness to an unfortunate soul to boot.

“Maybe they’re going to conquer the whole world, Min. If they conquer the world, there’s no reason Rand and Galad and the rest could not end up in Seanchan.”

Depressing that Egwene sees a way for Min's visions to plausibly come true without her safety.

“I am being practical,” Egwene said sharply. “I don’t intend to stop fighting, not as long as I can breathe, but I don’t see any hope that I’ll ever have the a’dam off me, either. Just as I don’t see any hope that anyone is going to stop the Seanchan. Min, if this ship captain will take you, go with him. At least then one of us will be free.”

And here of course she's quite right not to put her faith in what she can't count on and to keep fighting anyway, but damn it's sad she's in this position.

“I must punish you severely for this. We will both be called to the Court of the Nine Moons—you for what you can do; I as your sul’dam and trainer—and I will not allow you to disgrace me in the eyes of the Empress. I will stop when you tell me how much you love being damane and how obedient you will be after this. And, Tuli. Make me believe every word.”

Again we see how the Seanchan enforces its madness by ensuring that every level of its hierarchy is under threat of terrible violence, and we also see how it's probably inadvertently stumbled into another method of enforcing its ideology: if you repeat the same lie to yourself over and over, sooner or later you will start believing it. For as much effort as Egwene is going to have to put into convincing Renna, the real danger is how much progress she'll make convincing herself to try and make sense of the horrible circumstances she's in.

Let's give it a try! I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow. I'll post my notes on chapter 43 tomorrow.

Not sure it's working, but I am copy-pasting. In any event: next time - Bayle Domon meets Nynaeve!

[digitaldoeslmk]

Hello there! I hope the month has been kind to you so far. Big fan of your artstyle. Very cozy and cute but also clean at the same time.

Also loving your rewrite of the show! I can't help but giggle at the aneurysm the canon Monkie Crew would have if they meet yours, especially with the fact that MK got eaten and found out that he was a monkey just a short time after he became a successor.

Also, will we ever see the Six-Eared Macaque being a menacing evil in your art of the story? Do you plan on writing it, or just giving it out in short passage writings and art? What other characters from the show do you plan on keeping? Will the Silver and Gold demon be as scary as they were in the book?

Drink your water often and sleep early regularly!

WAAAAH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I rly appreciate all your support so far, here and on my jttw blog!! <333

and don't worry, I have plenty plans about the shadow bastard! I just wanna get a handle on the character dynamics so far and how they evolve, until I throw a SEM shaped wrench at them xD

as for Silver and Gold, they did get taken back in by Lao Tzu but in recent centuries they dabbled a bit too much on smuggling stuff from his lab to the demon underground, so they got booted back to earth for their crimes. they were formidable once because they were meant as a test, but now they are being punished. they got very nerfed, and these convoluted plans of their are fruit of lots of paranoia and contingency plans to avoid worse punishment for their antics. just, digging their own grave deeper yknow? xvx

while they aren't minor clown enemies like in the show, they are prone to antics of their own, which make sense to them but not everyone else ahvshwgshs

as for how ill keep working on these. while this au can easily turn into a proper mammoth of a fanfic, i have issues doing long-format writing. not for lack of wanting, mind you! i do intend to write here and there, but what i manage to do will likely be character studies, scenes with fade ins and outs as needed, maybe a few sequential chapters but only if the muse and spoons are kind to me. but besides that, i can definitely keep doing these few sketches and blabbering posts I've been throwing at yall!

im rly just doing whatever works easiest for me at any moment, and this is a leisure project like my jttw aus, and i dont wanna stress myself with needless fat on these projects.

and thank you, I def will!!! :DD

[iqxys]

HEARTSTEEL members as my Top 5 in Overwatch

side note: I played league ONCE way back and haven’t really interacted with the fandom/lore since then so these are either extremely accurate or extremely inaccurate

Mercy: Yone, Aphelios

Aphelios is a DEMON at Mercy parkour and risky rezzes. Minimum 3 endorsements every match. Duos with Sett and ironically has cringy matching names with him. Loves pulling out the blaster to assert dominance. Actually a flex main but gets forced onto support almost every game. (he just like me fr) Mid GM peak.

Yone plays safer than Aphelios. Max 3 deaths every game. Blue beam king, never under 75%. Dodges Rein shatters and Genji blades like his life depends on it. Also a demon at Mercy parkour. T500 peak. (Highest was 417)

D.VA: Sett, K’Sante, Ezreal

Sett is an ult eater. Enemy threw out a projectile ult? Don’t worry, he ate it. Every single time. Gives his supports aneurysms because of how deep into the enemy backline he is. LOVES dive meta. Mid masters peak.

K’Sante knows every ult spot for D.VA. Either gets one person with self destruct or all five, no inbetween. Always goes back for his Kiriko/Mercy when they’re in spawn. The only ult he consistently eats is Grav and is known by Zarya players because of it. Mid diamond peak.

Ezreal rarely plays but when he does he only plays with Kayn. He tends to play safe and constantly has defense matrix up. Terrorizes Widows with Kayn. Hasn’t played comp but he’d be low platinum.

Widowmaker: Kayn/Rhaast

Rhaast is the one that mains widow. He enjoyed the entire ‘widow shouldn’t one shot’ discourse and defended her HARD. Gets accused of cheating almost every game and has a ‘fan base’ of people who defend him. ‘Skill issue’ in chat after someone complains about him or his character. T500 peak. (Highest was 125)

Sombra: Kayn/Rhaast

Kayn mains her and Rhaast always tells him to spawn camp the supports/widow. Quick play warrior. One of the silly/fun Sombra’s that spams voicelines in the backline to mess with the supports. Huge emps and always combos with Ezreal. Hasn’t played comp since season 6 of Overwatch 1. Low platinum peak, slipped into gold and hasn’t recovered. Could be high diamond if he actually tried.

Ana: Yone, K’Sante

Yone loves playing Ana but he’ll never admit it. Sometimes gets a bit silly and nanos Aphelios as Mercy. Huge anti-nades and sleeps. Could be mistaken for a T500 Ana. Low GM peak. (Has a seperate account)

K’Sante is definitely an Ana player of all time. Misses more than he hits but has great nades. Always nanos Sett as baby D.VA and yells at him if he re-mechs while nano is still active. Tbags slept targets and uses the pillow spray religiously. Spams ‘good kitty’ and ‘You need to learn to relax’ too. Low gold peak.

—

LMFAOO??? I’m in a match rn and we’re losing 😔

[jaydicksummerexchange]

JAYDICK EXCHANGE: AUGUST 31

[ ❤ Works posted so far! ❤ ]

WE’RE AT 102 EXCHANGE WORKS FOR 2020 YOUR CREATIVE POWER CANNOT BE CONTAINED! I cannot stress how amazing this number is as we only had 71 sign ups. That’s a lot of treats from some very amazing artists and writers.  Please continue to add your stories and artwork to the collection! It’s always open. If you’d like your treat included in our promotional posts, please have it completed before midnight EST September 3.

Here are today’s fanworks! Please leave a comment and kudos for the author if you enjoy their work. Authors/artists will be revealed September 3rd...ISH!

If this room was burning (I wouldn’t even notice) by anonymous for pissvinegarandacrowbar [FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Post-Game(s), Developing Relationship, Angst, Implied - Friends with Benefits

Summary: Ever since Knightfall, Dick has felt like the floor is on the ceiling and everything he’s holding onto is slipping through his fingers. But tonight Penguin has decided to throw a party in Gotham, and Dick is furious and looking for a good time.

He’d Trade His Guns For Love by anonymous for strikeyourcolors [FIC, Explicit, No Warnings Apply, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Thieves, Con Artists, Casual Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Complicated Relationships, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary:  Moments later, Dick has made his way through the crowd and is hanging off Jason's shoulder, whispering into Jason's ear, his breath tickling the short hairs at the nape of Jason's neck. “If you're here for good old Kathy's trinkets,” he purrs, “then, ohh, Little Wing, I'm afraid I beat you to the punch on that one.”

Dick butts into one of Jason's meticulously planned scores and gets "punished" appropriately.

Perfect Day by anonymous for Hedgebelle [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Fluff, Humor, Weddings, Groomzilla, Wedding Planning, Wedding Night, Kissing, JayDick Summer Exchange

Summary: “I ordered white lilies, not pink! How do you think my fiance will feel when he walks out here for his big day and sees these monstrosities instead of his favorite Easter lilies? Are you trying to ruin our whole wedding with your incompetence?” 

The florist looks like he might piss himself. Dick rushes over before things get any more out of hand.

-

It turns out Jason is a bit uptight about making everything perfect for his and Dick's big day. It's up to Dick to prevent his fiance from having an aneurysm, and from possibly murdering a florist...

Lazarus by anonymous for 3ssen [ART, Teen, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Post-Apocalypse, Steampunk, Alternate Universe, Pre-SlashFanart

Summary: There's a boy in the Wastelands, unaging, preserved in the bright, green fluid of the Lazarus Cores - the last human from Before the End.

you can mend a heart that's frail and torn (i'm worn) by anonymous for DDDemosthenes_1986 [FIC, Mature, No Warnings, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Red Hood and the Outlaws #25, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Has Daddy Issues, Protective Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Has Daddy Issues, Pre-SlashSelf-Esteem Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Character Death, Trauma, Aftermath of Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Feels, Hurt Jason Todd, POV Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Dick Grayson cares, References to Forever Evil (Comics)References to Nightwing #30

Summary: “My biggest mistake was coming back. That made me human. That made me not perfect. That hurt his rep, ruined the pretty little tale he’d conjured in his head. His little pedestal he’d build for self-flagellation after patrol. Don’t you see Dickie? The whole family loved me as a corpse. They didn’t love me when I came back filling graves with criminals. Even you…”

Jason gives a self-depreciating laugh, hugging himself and looking down.

“Even you.”

A Good Soldier but not A Good Son.

***

Not all wounds are skin deep, and some conversations have been a long time coming.

May We Together (Become Greater Than the Sum of Both of Us) by anonymous for MFLuder [ART, GEN, No Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Vulcan Jason Todd, Betazoid Dick Grayson, Alternate Universe - Space, Xenolinguist Jason Todd, Engineer Jason Todd, Command Track Dick Grayson, Diplomat Dick Grayson, TOS/AOS uniforms bc reasons, reasons being, jason in red and death jokes, and also command gold has a nice ring to it, Shippy Gen, Fanart

Summary:  Starfleet Cadets Jason Todd and Dick Grayson celebrate a successful mission simulation.

The Edge of Heaven by anonymous for slifer the sky noodle [FIC, Explicit, No Warnings,  JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Alpha!Dick Grayson, Alpha!Jason Todd, Anal Sex, Knotting, Dick in Lingerie, Dirty Talk, Buttplugs, Unconventional Relationship, Omegaverse

Summary: for the JayDick Exchange 2020 prompt: Alpha Jason and alpha dick, teeeeensiiiion and dick likes taking knots?? Thank u god bless

if I could tell you I would let you know by anonymous for solomonara [Teen, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jason Todd, Protective Dick Grayson, Pre-Slash, could be gen too

Summary: Jason sits up slowly, letting the comforter fall away to reveal bandages criss crossing his whole torso. There’s no way he did them himself. Besides not remembering it, the way they were wrapped suggests someone else’s hands. The question now is who.

The bedroom door opens at that moment, and Dick Grayson steps in.

Like a Dark-Haired Rapunzel by anonymous for Zillabird [ART, Teen, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Historical, Indian mythology - Freeform, Shahnameh, Zal and Rudabeh, Fluff, Long Hair, Jason Todd has Long Hair, Jason Todd is a Prince, (ess), Dick Grayson is also a Prince, Boys Kissing, A lot of research went into this okay, Fanart

Summary: The lonely, sheltered, handsome Prince Jason meets Dick - also handsome, also a Prince, but very much the successor of his father's sworn enemy.

It's love at first sight.

Cleaning Teams by anonymous for prompt_fills [Fic, General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Batfamily (DCU), Sibling Bonding

Summary: Short drabble of the Batkids attempting to clean the manor for Alfred.

[tanjamikaelson]

PART 78: | NO REST FOR THE WICKED |

MASTERLIST

PART 78: | NO REST FOR THE WICKED |

MIKAELSON’S COMPOUND

Klaus walked into the courtyard and saw a coffin. He stopped walking for a brief moment and narrowed his eyes, thinking of what is that coffin doing in the middle of his house. He stepped closer to the coffin and then quickly opened it, seeing someone's ashes in it and when he picked up a picture that was placed beside he saw whose ashes were in the coffin. It was Natali on the picture, her body was desiccated with a stake in her heart.

When Klaus sensed that Kol was about to walk into the courtyard, he quickly threw the picture back in the coffin and closed it.

  - "Nik, did you saw Natali somewhere?" Kol questioned, looking at his phone, "She didn't came home since she left to see Renee."

Klaus remained silent. He was just glaring at Kol not knowing if he should say something or not.. Until Kol didn't looked up at him and saw a coffin beside him.

  - "What is this?" Kol questioned, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

  - "Nothing." Klaus told him quickly and uncertain.

  - "Did you opened it?" Kol asked, while he was waiting for Klaus to answer he delayed Natali's number and called her.

When suddenly her phone could be heard echoing all around them. Kol looked down at the coffin realizing that the sound was coming from inside of it. He clenched his jaw and took an angry step towards the coffin. Klaus tried to stop him, but Kol pushed him away and opened a coffin.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he picked up a picture.

  - "What the bloody hell is this?!" Kol shouted, so loud that the half of the French Quarter could hear him, "This can't be true." he yelled, his voice trembling with anger, as he showed the picture to his brother. 

Kol was getting angrier by every second, he speeded towards the coffee table that was near them and flipped it over. A glass shattered all over the courtyard.

  - When Freya heard that something was going on she stormed into the courtyard, "What's going on?"

  - "You need to bring her back." Kol says as he look at his sister.

  - Freya was confused, "Bring who back?"

  - "Natali." Klaus told her because Kol wasn’t able to say her name, "Rene killed Natali."

Freya couldn't believe what she was hearing, she picked up a picture that was on the floor next to the coffin and saw Natali with a stake in her heart. 

  - She looks at Klaus and shakes her head, then says quietly, "I can't bring her back."

  - "How do you mean you can't?" Kol yells at her.

  - "Kol, I'm sorry but there is no other side anymore and we don't have her body." Freya tells him nicely because she didn't want to upset him even more, but that didn't work.

Kol’s eyes grew supernaturally blood shot as his fangs protruded from his gums. He roars in wordless rage and lunges at her, but before he can make contact Klaus speeds between Kol and Freya. He stood defensively, though he made no move to strike at Kol. 

  - “Kol, control yourself. You are angry and hurting.” Klaus tells him, he knew how ruthless his brother could be, especially when given cause.

But Kol only drew back his fist and propelled it into Klaus’ nose, sending the older vampire flying across the room and crashing to the floor. Klaus recovered quickly, pulling himself back up as Freya stood in front of Kol. That was the first time she saw him that angry and she could say it made her afraid. She didn’t think before using her magic to quickly snap his neck, that was the only way to calm him down.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

  - “We should do something Klaus, we can’t keep breaking his neck.” Freya tells him.

  - Klaus was sitting at the bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand, “You said it yourself there’s nothing we can do.”

  - “She killed her when we most need her.” Freya says with tears in her eyes.

  - “That was their plan all along.” Klaus told her, “In the meantime we should focus on the enemies that are going to come here after my sire link was broken.” 

  - Freya sighs, "It's only been two days since the link was broken. Must you jump into crippling paranoia already?"

  - "Speaking of which.." Klaus says and suddenly vamp-speeds downstairs into the courtyard, where he finds Davina strutting inside the front gate and immediately pins her against a support beam by the shoulders.

  - "Rather foolish of you to come here." Klaus tells her.

  - "Let go of me. It's Natali, not Davina." She tells him.

  - Klaus narrowed his eyes, "Is that suppose to change something?"

  - "You clever witch." Freya remarks as she walks into the courtyard with Elijah.

Natali hated that in Davina’s body she wasn't strong enough to push Klaus away from her, so instead she gave him an aneurysm.

Freya runs towards her and hugs her, happy that Natali isn’t really dead.

  - Natali hugs her back and asks, “Where’s Kol?”

  - “He is in the living room.” Freya tells her and Natali goes there immediately.

Kol has just healed and he got up from the ground just when the four of them entered the living room. He looked angry at them and took a step forward but was faced with a barrier spell.

  - “That was the only way to contain him.” Freya says.

  - “I’ve figured he would be angry.” Natali says.

  - “What the hell is this? And what is she doing here?” Kol says with rage in his voice.

  - “It’s me Kol. I jumped into Davina’s body when Renee killed me.” Natali tells him.

  - He felt a sudden relief, “Natali?”

  - Natali nodded, “Yeah, did you really think I could be killed that easily?” she questioned.

  - “It surely sounds like Natali.” Kol remarks.

  - Natali rolls her eyes, “Yeah, because it is me.”

When Freya undone the barrier spell Kol tightly hugged Natali. He was glad that she is alive, even if she’s not in her body anymore.

  - “Where is my body so Freya can put me back?” Natali asked.

  - “I’m afraid that can’t happen.” Kol replied.

  - “Why not?” Natali asked.

  - “Because Renee burned it. She sent us your ashes.” Kol told her.

  - “Of course she did.” Natali says.

  - “I told you so. You should’ve never trusted her.” Kol tells her.

  - “I’m sorry, Kol. I never fully trusted her, that’s why I prepared Davina’s body.” Natali told him.

  - “When did you do it anyway? Why didn’t I know about that?” Kol questioned.

  - “Remember when few weeks ago I brought Davina to Fangtasia, I compelled a guy to buy her a drink and compelled a bartender to put a drug in it and then I prepared her body.” Natali told him.

  - Kol had a small smile, “Oh, I remember.”

  - “So what happened while I was gone?” Natali asked.

  - “A lot actually.” Klaus replied, “Davina broke my sire link. Too bad your sister didn’t killed you a day earlier, it would prevent that from happening.”

  - Natali frowns, “What makes you think I wouldn’t do that if I was in Davina’s body in that moment?” 

  - “Anyway..” Freya interrupts them, “I’ve brought Finn back using nexus vorti that Davina created. He’s resting now.”

  - “If you could channel that amount of magic again you could bring your body back.” Kol says.

  - “It’s possible, but we don’t have a chance right now.” Natali says.

  - “We’ll find another way.” Freya tells them.

  - “When are we going to kill Renee?” Kol asked.

  - “Not yet, she needs to think that she won and we’ll strike when she least expects it. Until then we need to keep this as a secret, no one can know I’m in Davina’s body, especially not Renee.” Natali said.

  - “Then you need to stay here at the compound, where no one can see you.” Kol told her.

  - “This is going to be boring.” Natali remarks.

  - “Not quite, we need to find enemies who are coming to New Orleans.” Klaus says.

  - “Since I don’t have anywhere else to go, do you mind if we teach you a quick spell?” Natali says as she looks at Freya.

  - Freya smiles, “Not at all.”

Natali, Kol and Freya are standing next to each other at the coffee table in the upstairs living room, where Kol is starting to burn the letters that Klaus used as trophies. Elijah and Klaus watch solemnly from nearby.

  - “Mixing the ashes of these letters with your blood, Nik, will show us where your enemies are.” Kol crushes the ashes up with a mortar and pestle and Natali hands him a gold goblet with Klaus' blood. Kol sprinkles the ashes into the goblet before handing it back to Natali. 

Natali pours the ash-blood mixture onto a map of the world, which is pinned down by white candles. Freya was standing on the other side of the table and Natali took her hands. As they were holding their hands over the map they’ve began the incantation, “Calaste piso tal tras es tros. Calaste piso tal tras es tros.”

The blood starts to break apart into eleven small beads, which scatter across the map. Listed are the closest approximations: four total in North America (one near Chicago, Illinois; one in New Orleans, Louisiana; one in Southern California, and one in South-Central Mexico); one is in Southeastern Brazil; three are in Europe (Belgium, Southern Italy, and Western Russia); two in Africa (one in Nigeria; one in South Africa or Mozambique); and one in what looks like South Korea.

  - “Behold your greatest hits, Klaus. All over the world. But only one is here. Which means the legion of enemies you were worried about is an army of one.” Freya tells him.

  - “I assure you, this is your Gaspar Cortez.” Kol circles the drop of blood on the map that is right on the dot indicating New Orleans, Louisiana. Just then, Klaus gets a text message from Cami which reads, "Problem. Rousseau's."

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

SAINT TROPEZ

Chaos began raging through Saint Tropez and no one knew why. Rebekah and Anna were in the mansion when all of it started and they heard from some vampires that a group of witches started killing everybody who wasn’t joining them. 

Suddenly the doors of the mansion bust wide open and there was Renee with her vampires and witches, who were apparently spies all along. For generations some witches lived in Saint Tropez to spy on Natali and no one knew until now.

  - “Renee, what the bloody hell are you doing here?” Rebekah exclaimed.

  - “So this is the famous Renee, huh?” Anna remarks since she didn’t knew how Renee looks like.

  - “I came to take over this town.” Renee simply tells them.

  - Anna laughs, “Like hell you are.”

  - “Natali will..” Rebekah began saying but Renee quickly cut her off.

  - “Natali can’t help you.” Renee says, “May she burn in hell.” she adds as she throws them a photo of Natali with a stake in her heart.

  - “What sick game are you playing?” Rebekah asks her angrily.

  - “Not a game honey, I just came to take what’s mine.” Renee tells them.

  - “This is was and never will be yours.” Anna told her.

  - “We’ll see about that.” Renee says and raises her hand to show her witches to attack.

One of the witches holds her hands together and gestures it towards Rebekah. Rebekah instantly falls to her knees in pain. The witch continues to cast the pain infliction spell on Rebekah, who stares at her with wide eyes as she clutches her head in pain.

While other witches and vampires were fighting with Anna, Renee walked towards Rebekah holding a cursed stake in her hands.

  - “Remember this stake Rebekah?” Renee asked, “Now when I kill every siphoner no one will be able to cure you.”

Rebekah was on her knees, gasping in pain and Renee points the stake at Rebekah’s heart as Rebekah stares at her.

  - “When I wake up, you will be the first person that I kill.” Rebekah growls at her furiously.

  - “I won't hold my breath, but you're more than welcome to try.” Renee tells her before she plunges the stake into Rebekah's heart, and Rebekah groans in pain as her skin turns gray and desiccates.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

NEW ORLEANS

Klaus and Elijah have returned to the compound, where they have joined Freya, Kol and Natali in watching the map as the drops of blood head straight for New Orleans, some faster than others. 

  - “So this may only be a fraction of our potential enemies.” Elijah says.

  - Kol chuckles, “In hindsight, we could've been nicer to people. Or at least left fewer survivors.”

Neither of his siblings seem impressed by his glib comments.

  - Klaus turns to address Elijah, “We don't know all their motivations. Half of these people could want to put the bullet in your heart! End the sire war with the pull of a trigger.”

  - “I have an army devoted to keeping me alive. The only people that care to protect you are standing in this very room.” Elijah tells him and gives Klaus a serious look for a moment before he continues, “As you well know, Niklaus, there is another way.”

Klaus sighs, but seems to know that Elijah is right. Freya looks confused for a moment before she realizes what they mean.

  - “You're going to run?” Freya asks.

  - Klaus chuckles, “There was a time when the name Klaus Mikaelson was little more than a rumor. A shadowy figure who cast fear into the very bones of any who heard whisper of him. I don't run, sister. I disappear. And tonight, the four of you are going to make that possible.”

Kol and Natali are once again preparing to show Freya another spell in the courtyard.

  - "Klaus you just need to bleed into that chalice." Natali tells him, then turns to Freya,  "Add some oleander and a spotted owl feather, I'll give you the incantation, and we'll be good."

  - "Impressive. You created this spell?" Freya asks.

  - "Well, there's no witchcraft on this planet that we haven't studied. But we both know you're well aware of that." Kol tells her.

When Freya and Natali done the spell Klaus walked downstairs to the courtyard with his bags packed, walking toward where they’ve performed spell. Elijah stands behind Freya and walks toward Klaus as he approaches them.

  - “Is it done?” Klaus asked.

  - “Yes. And now any witch who does a locator spell will believe you're right here in New Orleans.” Freya tells him.

  - Elijah was amused, “You know, for all of the mischief, Kol and Natali truly are masters of their craft.”

  - “Wow, you needed a thousand years to notice that.” Natali remarks.

  - Klaus laughs, “Well, drawing trouble is their forte.”

  - Elijah then looks at him, “Don't stop driving 'til you're absolutely certain that you are safe.”

Klaus hugs him goodbye and gives Freya a kiss on the cheek before giving a hug to Kol. When he turned towards Natali she just told him, “We can skip the hugging.”

  - Klaus nods and turns to Freya, “Keep them in line, would you, sister?”

Freya nods, and Klaus walks out into the entrance hall with his bag in hand.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

MASTERLIST

Tags: @mikaelsonsmagic   @p3nny4urth0ught5   @cute-freak27   @ias-born  @superhalsteads  @characterobsessed   @hinata7346   @luiza-4-ever  @huntress1428  @infiniteoblivion21

[thewhiterabbit42]

The Other Side

Pairings: AU!Gabriel x AU!Reader

Summary: Survival wasn’t all there was to life in the apocalypse, and you were lucky enough to understand this.

Word Count: 5628

Tags/Warnings: smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, edging, friends with benefits, sleeping with the enemy, secret / forbidden affair

Written for: Anon - kiss request - tripping over objects / furniture and @spnkinkbingo     

Square Filled:  Biting

You hated using the tunnels.  They always felt cold, unnaturally so, and smelled the way you imagined a tomb would: damp, earthy, filled with stagnant air and the ever present possibility of entrapment.  It wasn’t that you were claustrophobic, so much as you really disliked the idea of being put beneath the ground.  Especially alone.  

They were the only way to get in and out of the colony unnoticed, however, and discretion was key.  Mostly because Bobby might blow a gasket if he knew just how often you left on your own, not to mention the aneurysm he'd get when he found out the reason behind it.

Thankfully, the passageway you needed was short, and before you knew it, a fresh breeze was once again nipping at your cheeks.  The barest whisper of something trickled across your senses as your feet guided you down the path, causing the cool night air to fill your lungs at a faster rate.  

Your pulse lost its steady rhythm, and you stopped dead in your tracks.  Your head tilted slightly, your instincts kicking into overdrive, but your hand never drew the blade on which it rested.  You were far from alarmed, even as the rustle of wings sounded directly behind you.  

“You know, if I was one of my brothers, you’d be dead right now…”

“You know, if I was anyone else, you’d spend the rest of your morning in the principal's office for misuse of emergency exits.”

The early morning sun blinded you, making it impossible to see the figure waiting for you just outside the tunnel doors.  Exhaustion clung to your mind, preventing the familiar voice from registering.  You whirled, unsheathing your blade, your muscles readying to strike.  

Recognition override your adrenaline at the sight of your best friend’s face.  

“Jesus, Wes!” You clutched the weapon to your chest, as if that would calm the frantic beating of your heart.  “That’s a good way to get yourself stabbed.”

“Is that anyway to greet someone bearing gifts?”  He asked, immediately holding up an old, faded travel mug.  You pursed your lips, tucking away your blade as you tried to even out your breathing.  You were relieved he was the one catching you sneaking back in over the fact he’d prepared a peace offering.  

Your eyes flicked down, curiosity brimming.    “I suppose it would be awfully ungrateful not to accept.”  Wryness lifted both your tone and the corner of your mouth as you took the mug from his hands.

“If I were you, I’d drink up.  Bobby’s been waiting for you since dawn.”  

Shit.  You’d forgotten you’d asked to meet with him.  

You glanced over to find an odd look on your friend’s face.  

“What?” You resisted the urge to glance down the front of you and make sure nothing was compromised.  You continued to hold his stare, noticing there was something different about it, something you were too tired to tease out.

There was more to Gabriel’s presence tonight.  More tension, perhaps.  More energy.  Or maybe there was just more of him.  It carried over into his touch, that something extra feeling awfully possessive as he grabbed you by the waist.  

“Since I know you’re not stupid, I can only assume you either have something terribly wrong with your sense of self-preservation, or maybe, just maybe, you somehow knew it was me...”

It wasn’t quite suspicion that colored his tone, but you also wouldn’t call it concern.  What was concerning to you, however, was how guarded he was. It was as if something was brewing inside him, something that was strong enough to churn everything he kept buried up toward the surface.  

“I’m having a torrid love affair with my mortal enemy…which do you think it is?” You said dryly, hoping some humor might help diffuse whatever was going on.

“Hmmmm.”  He sounded less than convinced, but as his hands slipped beneath your jacket, his focus shifted.  Fingertips teased tiny circles along your skin, sending small sparks of excitement through your system.  

You held your breath, concentrating on him and only him; the feel of his touch, the heat of his chest on your back, the way he smelled of different air and clean rain, suggesting he had come from someplace much further away.  He was your escape, and you wanted nothing more than to become lost in him.  

You felt yourself slipping away as he traced the tip of his nose down behind your ear, his breath unfurling warmly against the shell of it.  

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he ordered.  You were tempted to make a remark, but that little extra edge to him had you doing what you were told.  He placed something small and square on top of your tongue, and it only took a moment for a delectable combination of sugar and cocoa to soar across your taste buds.

“Oh —”

“— God, this - is this…” You stared at Wesley, wide-eyed.  “Where the hell did you find whiskey?”  The look you pinned him with really said who did you have to kill for this?

“Thought you’d like that,” he grinned, patting you on the shoulder before passing you.  You stared at his back a few seconds, your brain unable to comprehend the magnitude of his gift.  It took a few moments to recover, and you were thankful he was in front of you as you awkwardly shuffled to catch up.

Your moan was as decadent as the long lost flavor spreading inside your mouth.

“... you like that?”  He murmured, nuzzling along the side of your neck as he allowed you time to savor the surprise.   

You couldn’t remember the last time you had real chocolate.  Candy, sweets, anything without real nutritional value was overlooked once the fighting began.  Then, once everyone realized this was really the end, treats became so uncommon they surpassed the value of gold and silver.  In some places, they had become the only valuable piece of currency.

Now they were as rare as toilet paper, and you couldn’t believe the things people were willing to do for a chocolate bar.

“What would you do for one?”  Insinuation danced through his tone, and you finally turned around to greet him properly.  What you saw, however, had you stilling.  

Gabriel’s eyes glimmered in a kaleidoscope of sentiments and colors.  Greens and golds vied for dominance against a backdrop of heat.  He was beautiful.  Breathtaking.  Perhaps one of the few truly magnificent things left in this world.  

And for whatever reason, he found you deserving of his time.  

“I can’t - this is too much,” you insisted, holding the cup back up to him.  “I don’t deserve this.”

Wes might have been your closest friend, but things like this went beyond bestie status.  If anything, you should have been procuring him impossible items for looking out for you.

Especially when he had to know whatever you were doing outside the colony was at least seven shades of questionable if not outright forbidden.  

He glanced sideways at you, and your brows pulled together beneath his scrutiny.  You still weren’t able to get a pulse on him, which was strange.  Normally, you could both tell where each others’ heads were at.

“Oh, don’t worry, there are strings attached,” he informed you.  “You’d think if we took anything from the military, it’s that the whole don’t ask, don’t tell method doesn’t really work worth shit.”

You footsteps froze, your entire system lurching to a stop with them.  “Wesley…” 

You didn’t want to lie to him.  You weren’t certain you could after all you’d been through together, but most of all, you didn’t want him to share the burden of your secrets.

As if sensing the weight behind things, his hands shot up in surrender.  “You don’t have to tell me.  In fact, the less I know right now, the better.”

It wasn’t hard to read between the lines.  He was catching flak about you.  Then again, when wasn’t he?

“You just need to promise me you’ll come back.”  He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.  The contact combined with a stare that was far more direct than usual had you floundering.  

Unsure of what to do with his concern, you went straight to your family's specialty.

“If bribery of this caliber doesn’t convince me to, nothing will.”  You slipped your arm through his,  tugging him away from the main path and diverting your course toward a secluded hill that ran along the edge of the colony.  

You never knew how to handle these moments.  It was never easy seeing Gabriel for what he was.  It only reminded you how completely different you were.  

He was infinite, whereas you were nothing, an insignificant speck on the cosmic timeline that would eventually fade away.  You never felt worthy, even if it only came down to him needing a body with which to find pleasure.    

His eyes suddenly narrowed, and your forehead wrinkled down the center.  It wasn’t until you blinked that you realized what the problem was.  A drop of moisture slipped past the confines of your lashes, slowly trickling down your cheek.  

You didn’t understand how he could move you to such emotions so quickly when you spent most of your days struggling just to feel.  It was just another bewildering piece to the enigma that was Gabriel.  

“What have I told you about that?” He chided, a juxtaposition of hard and soft forming between his disapproving look and the gentle way he brushed away the streak with his knuckles.  

“What have I told you about going AWOL?”  Bobby scolded, not bothering to turn around from his place at the edge of the overlook.  You moved next to him, taking a large swallow from your mug as you avoided the cantankerous side-eye he sent you.  

No wonder Wes had opted to wait for you at the bottom of the hill.  There was more bear than man present this morning.  

You knew better than to jump straight into anything when Bobby was like this, and you took some time to admire the view of the colony.  Everything seemed ordinary on the surface.  People ambled through the center, going about their business.  The previous bustle had slowed, and the bodies weaving in and out of the structures took on an ambling, weighted shuffle.

His stare eventually settled on you, lips pulling thin with appraisal.  “You look like this is the last place you need to be.”  

“I’m fine.”  It was an automatic answer, a mistake, one you didn’t realize until his gaze intensified.  “I didn’t get much sleep.”

You knew it was better to give him something rather than stonewall him, and you hoped the amendment was enough to appease him.

“We have everything we need for it and then some: beds, linens, walls, protection… and yet it always seems to be one of the things shortest in supply.”  He paused, his eyes scanning the grounds some more before he continued.  “You still haven’t said where you were.”

You burst through the door to the supply shed, wincing as a thunderous crack echoed through the valley.  It was the third time this year you’d damaged something.  Bobby was going to be so pissed.

“Gabri-mmph,” his lips smothered yours, cutting off your protest.  

Shhh you heard his voice in your mind.  You want to alert the whole neighborhood we’re out here?

His mouth released yours, allowing you a brief reprieve for your burning lungs.  An infuriating smile pressing against your skin as he teased his way down along your collarbone.  His hands fisted the sides of your shirt, and you wished you’d remembered to fix the zipper on your jacket.  The last thing you needed was to have to explain why you were traipsing around at the end of winter missing vital layers.  Again.  

“Fuck you,” you breathed, your fingers weaving through his long, wavy strands of hair.  When he lunged for your throat, hungrily devouring your skin with teeth and tongue, you tugged in an attempt to keep him focused.   

An amused, albeit dark, chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat.  “That’s the plan, sweets.”

He captured your lips again, reigning in his ardor as he nudged you back through the small building.  You stumbled over piles of wood, scrap metal, broken pieces of furniture that might yet still serve a purpose, and you had to cling to him just to remain upright.   

Your luck eventually ran out, and your foot finally hit something that refused to give, sending you tumbling backwards so quickly even he wasn’t able to stop it.  Pain flared along your spine, and once your surprise wore off you realized you’d fallen against an old bookcase.

It was as good a spot as any.  Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket before running his hands beneath yours and pushing it over your shoulders.  You let it drop to the ground, eyes riveted as he tugged his shirt over his head.  His skin looked flawless in the moonlight filtering in through the windows, your gaze trailing up his lean, defined frame to the tousled, tawny locks hanging down around his face.  

Perfection you thought, and the air left the room in a sudden rush.  

“I needed some air,”   It wasn’t a total lie.  It just wasn’t the only thing you had needed.  

Strike two Bobby’s face said as he gave you a long look.  

“Different air?” He asked skeptically.  You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, doing your best to ignore the way he stared.  You knew he didn’t have a clue about anything, or else he’d be confronting you.

“I just…”  You fumbled for a better explanation, one that didn’t cross the careful lines you were trying to maintain between keeping him in the dark and outright lying to him.  The latter didn’t sit well with you, but you had nothing else to offer him this morning.  

Except maybe some of your whiskey, and there was no way that was happening.  

“... needed some air,” you repeated, taking another sip and finally glancing up at him.  You aimed for neutrality, hoping you could suppress how guarded you really were.

“One of these days, kid, you’re going to tell me what that means,” he said, finally letting the issue drop.   

“One of these days, we’re finding a bed,” you insisted, your hands gripping the sides of the bookcase as you all but prayed the thing didn’t collapse on you.  

Gabriel had ravaged the thing, sending pieces shattering in every direction in his haste before hoisting you up on the highest shelf left, ensuring he had a place to ravish you.  The setup was far from sturdy, the entire frame creaking and wiggling with every movement.  You did your best to stay still as he buried his head between your thighs, whereas he tried his damndest to get you to writhe as much as possible.  

“God, you’re such an ass,” you moaned, your feet digging into his back to keep your hips from rocking into his face.  You wished you could have the same effect on him, that you could make him dance to whatever tune you created, from fast-paced to slow to everything in between.  Yet, it was always him playing your body while you simply went along with whatever symphony he orchestrated.  

You wished you could tell him now.   You wished Bobby could understand that you left the walls of the camp because there wasn’t enough inside of them anymore.  Only he wouldn’t.  

His first reaction would be to make sure you weren’t bewitched.  Once convinced your mind had not been compromised, he’d move on to coercion, insisting there must be something the angel was holding over you.  It would take him some time for his denial to wear off, but once it did, then he’d think you were a silly little girl in way over her head.

Or a complete dumbass.

You weren’t sure which would be worse.  

“So… I can only imagine what you want to talk about,” he began.  “We got angel attacks getting closer by the day.  Outposts being discovered and overrun.  They’ve fractured our communication lines with the outermost colonies.  There’s that damn flu making its rounds, the fact that our last four supply runs came up all but empty, and I’m sure if we looked hard enough, we could even find a spy or two…”

In other words, you better not be there to waste his time.  

“Subtle,” you remarked.  “And while I understand you, and the others, have very important things to worry about, I would hope the happiness of your people would be among them.”

His eyes swung to you, hard and measured.  This wasn’t the first time you’d picked this battle, and he wasn’t any more thrilled to be doing it than you were.

“Hate to say it, but it’s the apocalypse.  Nobody’s supposed to be happy.”  

You knew you were walking a fine line.  You understood his priorities.  He and the other leaders had an overwhelming burden to shoulder, but sometimes they lost sight of the things that went beyond crises and survival.

“Should I quote you on that?”

You could practically feel the burn of his stare searing through the side of your head.  

“We’re doing the best we can with what we have.”  End of discussion.  

You hated when he tried to shut you down, like you were still some naive child with no idea what life was like beyond the walls.  

“Are we?”  You demanded.  At best, the place was a refugee camp, rather than the rebuilding of civilization they claimed.  Everything about it screamed temporary.  Many of the structures remained open.  Only the sick, injured, and most vulnerable were afforded four walls and a roof.  The rest of you made do with improvised lean-tos and tied down canvas, and even you had to admit to feeling a little salty that some of your supplies saw better quarters than the rest of you.  

You made do because you had to.  Because three figureheads was enough to keep a pulse on the entire place, but not nearly enough to keep ushering people forward.  Even with your help, with Wes’ and a handful of others, the tide had grown stagnant over the last several months.  People were drowning, and nothing good ever came from feeling like one’s head was trapped beneath the water while the surface drifted further and further away.

The only reason you weren’t losing your mind was because you had an archangel that had no problem helping you misplace it.  

Fuck, he was so good at this.  That tongue of his knew just how to move, just how much pressure to use, just what pace to set to get you to unravel.  His fingers moved within you, and they, too, knew exactly when to curl and hit that sweet spot.  You’d never known any man to pay this much attention to what you liked, and you wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he wasn’t one.

He tried to draw it out for you, bringing you right to the brink before easing you back again.  It was amazing and agonizing all at once.  

“Gabriel,” you pleaded, hands raking through his hair, nails scraping across his scalp as another wave of pleasure rolled through you.  You rocked yourself forward, ignoring the precarious groaning of the wood, unable to see past anything but an increasingly blinding need for him to pull that final stitch and let you come undone.  

“Sing for me my little songbird,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky with arousal.  

“Can’t,” you panted.  It was risky enough just being there with him.  You didn’t need some half-cocked night patrol bursting in because the archangel needed his ego stroked.  

Refusing him was clearly a challenge, his fingertips stroking your g-spot with more vigor.  Your head dropped back against the wall, a half-strangled moan catching in your throat.

“Gabriel—“” your argument cut short with a whine as he all but stopped, his touch slow, feather-light -- maddening -- and you watched as your release slipped away once again.   

“You will sing,” he insisted, his face breaking away from your sex to nibble tantalizingly along your inner thigh.  “Even if it takes me all night to convince you to…”

“I have all day to talk,” you reminded Bobby.  “Do you?”

You glanced back down at the activity below, taking another long pull from your mug.  You let the liquid roll around in your mouth, savoring the taste, allowing him time to decide how he wanted this to play out.  

“If you got a point, then make it.”  

You nodded, but said nothing, eyes riveted to the instructional building where all the kids spent their days learning useful things.  Trades.  Survival skills.  Tactical strategies.  How to properly handle an angel blade.  

“Listen,” he rounded, patience reaching its limit in the steady flush creeping up his neck.  “We got five graves that need to be dug this morning, so I suggest --”

You held up a finger to him, cutting him off.  “Just a moment.”  

A few seconds later, a set of doors swung open and everyone between the ages of six and sixteen came filing out.  Gaunt faces peered out from beneath worn and weathered layers, bodies shuffling obediently to the area a handful of adults were shepherding them.  This was their time to take a break from their studies, to be children, and yet, nothing about their movements suggested they were.  

There were no bursts of laughter, no lighthearted giggles or shouts, no excitement to be free from such menial tasks.  There wasn’t an ounce of playfulness within the group, only solemnity and silence that was mirrored by the adults overseeing them.  

“What do you see down there?”  You questioned.    

Bobby was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot.  

“Point made,” he conceded.  “Some days it’s like half of them already think they’re dead.”  

“Can you blame them?”  You made a wide sweeping gesture to the entire grounds.  Everything had a purpose, a function, just like everyone in the colony had a role.  Some days it felt like you were all just cogs in one big machine that did nothing but demand you keep running regardless of all the death and discomfort.  

“It may not be paradise, but it’s the best we can do.”  

“Is it?”  You pressed, unwilling to let the same cliche arguments drive the conversation.  “They need a way to let off steam.  Some form of entertainment, an escape, something.”

“I’ll get right on putting in a jungle gym after I bury our dead and explain to their children why their parents died from something a few Tylenol could have fixed.”  Sarcasm bled heavily into his words, and you could tell you were losing him.  “You want to help these people?  Find us some medical supplies.  Build us a clinic that doesn’t kill as many people as it helps because we can’t sanitize it properly.  Guarantee us one god damn supply run that doesn’t end with somebody not coming home!”

He had a valid point, but it only strengthened your argument that much more.  

“I’m not saying we ignore those things.  What I’m suggesting is we don’t overlook them.  Lift the sanctions on what people can bring back,” you insisted.  “Simple things like books, magazines, porn.”

Actual liquor so you didn’t have to drink things that tasted like they were one bad batch away from blinding you.  

Stars overlaid your vision, though it wasn’t quite how you anticipated.  The bookshelf emitted a final, dying groan before giving beneath your weight.  Gabriel lunged forward, pinning you to the frame with such speed that your head slammed unceremoniously back against it.  

“Shit,” he muttered, fingers hastily tapping the side of your head.  “Don’t check out on me yet, sweetheart.”  

The ache in your skull immediately faded, and he waited for you to lock your legs around his waist before shifting your weight entirely onto him.  

“Can we do things my way for once?”  You asked as he moved you both away from the new pile of kindling.  

He made a non-committal noise, turning to assess what other options were available for you both to get back to business.  

“You know, where we don’t break anything, myself included?”

“Ha, ha, chuckles.”  Sarcasm dripped from his words, though gold was more heated than anything when it pinned you beneath a look.  “I have yet to hear any complaints.”  

That’s because you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.  

“Unless…”  He prompted, almost daring you to say something to contrary.  

“No complaints,” you confirmed, stepping down to the floor.  “Though it would be nice if you let me lead for a change.”  

He was always the one calling the shots.  For once, you wanted to be the one in charge.  

Your hands smoothed up his chest before nudging him backward, and his brow shot up in a clashing combination of warning and curiosity.  He allowed you to guide him toward the center of the room until something pushed into the back of his thighs.  You reached behind him, ripping a sheet off an old, worn desk before playfully shoving him on top of it.  

“Permission to climb aboard the Gabriel Express?”

He rolled his eyes so hard he must have pulled something, but there was no mistaking the twitch of his lips or the way some of the darkness receded from his stare.

“Do you actually have anything important to discuss, or are we planning to ride the unicorn and sparkles train straight into the station?”  Bobby demanded after you went another heated round with each other.    

The knuckles around your mug turned white, and you realized no amount of good whiskey was going to let you keep your cool with him today.  

It was like talking to a brick wall.  Nothing you said made a difference, but you forged ahead, unwilling to let it drop this time.  The more you debated, the more you realized the only common ground between you was the sheer stubbornness you both possessed.  Any minute now, a bell was going to go off and you were going to be ushered into your separate corners.  

That, or one of you was simply going to murder the other one.

“What's the point of living if all we're going to do is survive?!” You shouted, your control dissolving as your words echoed across the valley.  

One day you were going to make him lose control, but tonight was not that night.

He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, give it up, his hand tight in your hair, baring your throat when he wanted it, dragging your mouth back to him on a whim, keeping your lips locked tight until you thought you might suffocate beneath his hunger.  

He let you set the pace, but the way he sat stock still beneath you resonated as more of a power move.  Be careful what you wish for, sweets, that smirk of his whispered as he made you do all the work.  

You took it as a challenge, doing everything you could to make him regret that decision, whether it was rising up and taking him in at a painfully slow rate or bringing him close to the edge before backing off the same as he had with you.  

Bit by bit, he started splintering, the need beneath his hands increasing as he tried to undo you.  You focused on the burning ache of your muscles, refusing to allow him to drag you over the edge yet.  A flush spread through the length of you, sweat breaking out across your skin.  Whose resolve would give first, you wondered?

Your face filled with color, less from your outburst and more from the way Bobby looked on the verge of shattering.  

“Is that how you feel?”  The quiet uncertainty beneath his words didn’t suit him.  He was the one with the unapologetic loud mouth.  He was the one filled with anger and bite.  You were supposed to be the one that took the edge off things.

“Bobby --”

“Don’t Bobby me, young lady.  You tell it to me straight.”  His face was all stern lines and gravity, and you suddenly felt like the time you’d gotten caught beneath the gym bleachers, not only with some boy but the wrong one.  

“No,” you told him.  “I don’t because it’s enough that I have people who take care of me.”

You never knew how often Gabriel had your back.  When you came, screaming his name and clenching so hard on his cock even he couldn’t hold back a cry, someone should have come running.  

No one did.  

You weren’t in any state of mind to question why, but, unbeknownst to you, he’d undone just enough of the grounds’ warding before you arrived so he could soundproof the building.  He’d never admit to it, and if you ever did ask, he’d simply pass it off to unusually accommodating acoustics.  

Had you known, it would have made losing your standoff a little less grating.  Your pride was used to it, though, and begging him to fuck you when your legs began to tremble wasn’t really anything new.  

He stilled, hands moving behind your thighs to help you ride out your pleasure exactly the way you wanted.  When you were done, they moved up your backside, helping himself to a generous handful of your curves.  He rolled his hips into you, giving slow, lazy thrusts that buried him in you to the hilt.

“You should see your face when you come,” he rasped, mouth ravenous along your neck.  That extra something within his presence returned, removing the chill from the air and causing it to swelter.

You couldn't imagine the view was as nearly as magical as he made it sound, but who were you to argue with someone that much older than you?

“So make me again,” you challenged, emboldened by whatever was causing his energy to spill out so palpably.  Your teeth sank into his lip, drawing it away from his mouth in a wholly uncharacteristic and ungentle way.  

He grunted, fingertips digging into your waist before he started pounding away at you in earnest.  

And make you come again, he did.  With one leg over his shoulder, then both, and lastly on your back when your legs could barely move, hitting so hard and deep that every thrust was followed by your sharp cries of satisfaction.  

When it was finally his turn, his eyes flashed bright with flames of gold, a gutteral noise tearing through him so fiercely the vibrations carried over onto your body.  You yelped as teeth unexpectedly sank into your shoulder so hard you were surprised when there wasn’t any blood.

“Fuck,” he growled, collapsing, the weight of his body trapping you against the desk.  

Instead of leaving right away, he lingered, leaving himself buried inside of you as your breaths began to slow.  You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, only that it didn’t take long.  He never stayed more than a handful of minutes after, and you were glad not to be conscious of it.  Every time left, you felt empty, physically and ways that ran so deep you didn’t want to think about them.  

You awoke a handful of hours later to ray of light spilling in through the dusty windows.  You were already dressed and covered in a dusty quilt that could have been tucked away in some obscure box, though you knew it hadn’t, and you might have questioned whether the night had really happened if he hadn’t left a few gifts behind for you to remember it by.   

“But other people aren’t as lucky, and some people just need more.”  You paused, watching two individuals square up against each other over what amounted to a shoulder brush.  “Some people need to get laid or take matters into their own hands.”  

Bobby made a face.  “Not much standing in the way of that.”  

You fixed him with a look that said there’s plenty.  

“Books.  Magazines.  Porn,” you repeated.  “Start there, and I guarantee you'll see a difference.”  

Shouts rose up from below, and you knew it was only a matter of time before fists started flying.  You frowned, knowing you both should get down there before the two idiots broke each others’ noses again.  

“You’d think they’d just learn their lesson and steer clear of each other,” he sighed, as tired of their antics as you were.   

You smirked.  “Maybe they would if they had some Playboys.”

He winced.  “For the love of anything good left in this world, can we please stop talking about porn?!”  

You stepped back, attempting to hide your mirth as you took one last sip from your cup.  You turned to head down the path, but before you could, he grabbed you by the arm.  

“You’d tell me if you ever felt that way, right?”  Blue eyes pinned you beneath the look, the one reserved to scare the shit out of anyone dumb enough to mess with you, and these rare moments in which he needed you to believe he actually could see through you so you wouldn't lie.  

You slipped your hand into your pocket, an ache flaring across your shoulder as fingers came in contact with something.  The lining to your jacket muffled the sound of the crinkling wrapper as your thumb skimmed over the nearly whole chocolate bar, pausing to worry over the small indent where a piece was missing.  It brought a smile to your face as much as the bruise and warm whiskey in your belly.  

“Don’t worry, dad,” you assured him.  “I’ll be just fine.”  

Tags are open to anyone 18+.  Send an ask to be added OR follow @rabbit-writes (my fic only side blog) and turn on notifications.

ALL the tags:

@girl-next-door-writes @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @lucifer-in-leather @blondecoffeecake  @tistai @room-with-a-cat @authoressskr @revwinchester @flufy07 @tardis-is-mine @tangle-of-ivy @luciferseclipse @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectivedestiel @angelofwinchester17 @phantomwarrior12 @jeanjeaniethings @wontlookaway @copperseraphim @fandomsrourlives @archangelgabriellives @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mizzezm @disneymarina @zpandaqueen @idabbleincrazy @katekvnes @han68000 @brokencasbutt67-writer

Gabe Squad:

@bloodstained-porcelain-doll @lacqueluster @baritonechick @samikitten @kazosa @nobodys-baby-now @acarpouschimerical @cipherwheeldecoder @megasimpleplan4ever @azlinh @fruitypieq   @koithings @booknerd1324 @the-kryomancer @karichanarts @sherlockedtash88 @archangelashiah @calamity-chaos @erisunderthemoon @hankypranky @missihart23 @curious-trickster @gabegirrl86 @trickster-emissarie @crazyevilninja-is-lame @sweetmisseddreams2002    @bun-dpdbny

[kalinara]

Rip Hunter Appreciation Week #2: Crossover/Fusion/AU

Okay, so, long story short, I kind of promised @oasis-wasteland that if I couldn’t think of anything better for Crossover/Fusion/AU day, I’d post about my most amazing and/or horrible fic idea ever.

The Time Hex Stripper AU.

As a bit of backstory, I came up with this in the Rip Hunter Discord Chat maybe a year or so ago specifically to annoy my friends.  I never got around to writing it, but maybe if you wish really hard, I’ll get up off my ass and do it.  (Probably not, but you never know.)

I will share my ideas with you in numbered form because it’s more amusing that way.

1.  The initial premise of the story is as follows: Jonah Hex is a modern day bounty hunter who has a long running sexual tension filled relationship (Think Batman-Catwoman, or Nate and Sophie pre-Leverage) with a member of the infamous global crime syndicate (/cult) known as Temporis Magistri.

I decided to give it a botched Latin name specifically to make @theadrogna twitch.  I do it out of love.  And sadism.  But mostly love.

2.  This member is Rip of course.  Though he actually goes by Michael Carter while a member of the Temporis Magistri.  Rip Hunter is an alias he takes later.

3.  So anyway, Jonah Hex is tracking down his old enemy/UST partner and finds him working as a bartender in a strip club owned by the Legendary Booster Gold.  Unfortunately this strip club has weirdly amazing security and Booster has no intention of letting anyone take the best bartender he’s ever found, so Jonah has only one way to get in:  AMATEUR NIGHT!

Jonah was a little self conscious of his facial scarring at first, but well “Honey, if you do it right, no one is ever going to be looking at your face.”

4.  Jonah’s stripping song is “I should have been a cowboy.”

At some point someone says: “I’d let him hogtie me anyday.”  And Rip is like “yeah...wait, what?”

5.  Anyway, the reason Rip is hiding out here is because he had a falling out with the Temporis Magistri and is on the run.  Because Rip doesn’t want anyone to know he’s a fugitive, he and Jonah have to pretend to be ex-boyfriends.

6.  Booster Gold, though mostly retired from the stage now, was a LEGEND back in the day.  (Even Zaman Druce was a little obsessed with Booster Gold’s infamous golden...boost once).  He still goes on that stage sometimes, and it is always amazing.

7.  Rip does have a bit of a minor aneurysm when he realizes that his enemy/sort of boyfriend and his father are dancing on the same stage.

8.  And yes, Booster is still his dad in this universe.  Rip knows, Booster doesn’t realize.  Basically what happened is that a long time ago, Booster had owned a different strip club, but he’d made enemies.  Bad enemies.  And that’s how baby Rip got kidnapped by a crime syndicate.  Rip has been told Terrible Lies about his father.  

Booster has always dreamed of finding his son, though.

9. “One day, it’ll be you on that stage.”  

10.  The other Legends all have roles to play in this nonsense.  See, Booster’s Strip Club is one that is coincidentally staffed by people with badass superheroic abilities.  Sara and Amaya are bouncers.  Ray and Nate are strippers (To “Weird Science” and the entire repetoire of Horrible Histories, respectively.)

Zari and Jax work with Jonah, as his tech and mechanic experts.  I feel like at some point Zari might fall for Amaya and Jax for Sara.  Or possibly a foursome.  Really, I think everyone is kind of poly in this universe. 

11.  Gideon, Miranda, and Martin are among Rip’s contacts.  They are all very amused by his predicament.  Martin and Jax are actually teacher and student who email each other for advice, and to share what dumbass thing their friends did today.  When they meet face to face, they are surprised and happy.   

12.  The climax of the story involves Booster Gold driving off Zaman Druce with a shotgun, while wearing nothing but edible gold body paint.

13.  The ending involves Rip and Jonah dancing together on stage to “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”

14.  Booster Gold watches proudly, and says “Look at our son!  He’s terrible!  Just like you!”  His husband, Director Ted Kord of the FBI, just nods, surreptitiously wiping away a tear.

[evansandblack]

Little Monster Ch. 1 - Nolan Holloway

Being Liam Dunbar’s twin sister was never easy, but it got even harder for Lauren when he became a werewolf and she was still human. When war breaks out in Beacon Hills Lauren finds herself hanging in the balance, trying to protect not only the pack, but the enemy too.

(Inspired by an imagine prompt from the lovely @froygutierreez. And a special thank you to @handprints-on-my-s0ul for listening to me scream about this fic for the past month.)

Warnings: Language.

Words: Just short of 6k.

It was barely autumn, but it had started to get uncomfortably cold at night and the metal bleachers at the lacrosse field were even colder. Despite the temperature, I was bound and determined to watch practice. It was one of the last practices of preseason and Scott's last day as assistant coach. I was sitting on the bleachers by myself, my brother's lacrosse hoodie pulled tight around my body as an extra layer of protection from the cold. Liam, however, was not in sight. The rest of the team had already started running drills, but my brother was not with them.

A text from Mason confirmed that he was still moping in the locker room. I told him to get Liam out there quickly because from where I was seated, it looked like Finstock was already on the brink of an aneurysm.

I cringed when I saw my friend Nolan get slammed for the second time already by Diaz but clapped supportively. "It's okay, Nolan! You've got this!"

He offered me a small wave when he got up and I smiled at him.

Coach Finstock yelled at him a second later. "Holloway! Grab a new stick and get in goal!"

Nolan hated playing goalie, it was something he'd admitted to me junior year while we were talking in our history class.

He took his spot in goal and the team started playing again. Liam was still not out there and Diaz was taking over the field. He was better than he'd been the year before and I was actually impressed.

I heard Finstock make a comment about making Diaz captain if Liam didn't show up soon so I quickly texted Mason to tell him.

Diaz was making his way down the field with the ball, rapidly approaching the net where Nolan stood nervously. He took the shot and a second before the ball could make it into the net, Liam appeared out of nowhere. He did an admittedly impressive flip before catching the ball and taking off towards the opposite end of the field.

I hopped up and clapped excitedly. "Way to go, Li!"

Things were looking good until Diaz started coming towards Liam, diving low and flipping him over his back. Liam landed hard on the ground and I cringed. When he didn't get up right away Scott blew his whistle and ran towards him.

I knew something must have been wrong, so I abandoned my seat and ran onto the field, weaving between the players who were standing there looking at Liam. I knelt next to him and Scott to see that Liam's eyes were glowing gold and he was growling lowly.

"Li, are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?" I asked, putting one hand on top of the heavy pads on his shoulders.

He shook his head, but I could still hear growls rumbling through his chest.

"Hey, look at me." I said, grabbing the face mask of his helmet and forcing him to face me. "You need to calm down. Take a deep breath."

He followed my instructions and I watched his eyes flicker back to their normal shade of blue, the same color or my own eyes.

Scott stood up suddenly, pulling the two of us to our feet as well.

I noticed everyone staring at something and I looked over to see a wolf standing on the field, barely fifteen feet away from all of us. There was still-wet blood on the side of its neck and it growled, baring its teeth.

Liam immediately pushed me behind him and I found myself nervously gripping the back of his jersey.

"Everyone back." Scott said cautiously.

Most of the team followed his instructions and took a few slow steps backwards. But Nolan was standing still, seeming unable to move. His eyes were trained intensely on the wolf.

"Nolan…" Scott said but he still didn't respond.

I walked towards him, brushing off Liam's hand when he tried to stop me. My fingertips brushed the skin of Nolan's forearm. "Hey, Nolan, it's okay. Just back up a little bit, okay? Just come towards me."

His feet moved hesitantly, and he almost stumbled back towards me.

I held onto his arm, my fingers gently stroking the skin there to keep him calm.

Scott took a small step forward and I knew what he was doing. No one could see it but he flashed his eyes; a second later the wolf turned around and walked back into the woods.

I moved towards my twin brother. "Liam, what's going on? Was that a wolf? Or a wolf?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"We need to go find out." Scott said, looking at Liam before turning his attention to me. "You need to stay here."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Absolutely not. The two of you aren't running off into the dark woods after a potentially murderous werewolf by yourselves."

"Lauren, please. Just stay here and make sure everyone leaves just in case it comes back." Scott pleaded.

I sighed but gave in. "Fine. Text me and let me know what you find out. And please, please be careful."

"We always are." Liam said before following Scott off the field and into the woods where the wolf had disappeared just seconds before.

Due to the appearance of a wild and potentially dangerous animal, Finstock had called practice to an end early and the boys were all making their way back towards the school and into the locker room.

I grabbed my bag from where I'd left it on the bleachers and followed them into the warm building and leaned against the wall across from the locker room door and waited to make sure everyone left.

Within 20 minutes, most of the guys were gone. Even Finstock had already left for the night but by my count, there was still one person lingering inside the locker room.

I waited 10 more minutes before deciding to investigate. I pushed the door open a few inches and made sure to announce my presence. "Hello?"

There was no response, but I knew someone still had to be in there.

"Hello?" I tried again, walking into the room and shutting the door behind me.

No one spoke but I heard a quiet sniffle come from the opposite side of the room. I walked around a few sets of lockers and saw Nolan sitting against the wall near the showers. He was already changed back into his normal clothes, but he was sitting on the floor with knees pulled close to his chest and his head in his hands.

"Nolan?" I asked, and his head snapped up. There were tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Lauren?"

I dropped my bag and rushed over, kneeling beside him. "Hey, what's going on? Why are you upset?"

He shook his head and wiped a hand over his face. "Nothing. I'm fine."

I sighed. "It's okay, you can tell me."

He just shook his head again.

I reached out to rest my hand on his shoulder. "Was it the wolf? I know you were in the library last year when… Everything happened."

"Lauren, really, you don't have to worry about me." He said.

"Of course I do."

"Why?" He asked almost coldly.

My eyebrows furrowed for a second before relaxing. "Because you're my friend."

His expression softened. "Sorry. I'm just a little freaked out."

I nodded. "It's okay. I understand."

He wiped his hand across his face again, the remaining tears disappearing.

"I know what might make you feel better." I said.

His blue eyes met mine. "Yeah?"

I nodded. "Let's go to that diner downtown and get something to eat. Carbs will help take the edge off, I promise."

He smiled widely. "That sounds great."

I returned the smile and stood up, offering him a hand and helping pull him to his feet. "I swear, they've got the best hot chocolate in Beacon Hills. Come on, I'll drive."

Nolan grabbed his bag from the floor and followed me out of the locker room and towards the parking lot.

"You seem really calm." He noted. "Considering what just happened."

I looked up at him, a small smile on my lips. "Yeah, there's not a lot that scares me anymore."

"Not even a wolf?" He asked.

I wanted to laugh but I didn't. "I mean, it's scary, I guess. But no one got hurt so there's no reason to freak out, right?"

We had made it to my car, which seemed to look more and more beat up every single time I saw it. Nolan had stopped a few feet back, looking conflicted.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a step towards him.

He shook his head and smiled. "Nothing. I'm sure you're right. It's just an isolated incident, no big deal."

I could tell the smile was fake by the way his upper lip had twitched but I pretended to go along with it. "See, everything's fine."

We got into the car and I jammed the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine sputtered but didn't turn over. I groaned before letting go, running a hand through my hair which was a mess from being outside in the wind. "Just give her a minute. She has a hard time sometimes… Most of the time."

Nolan chuckled quietly.

"God, it's like the Jeep all over again." I muttered, not thinking he would hear me.

"Did you have a Jeep before?" He asked.

I shook my head and laughed a little. "No, not me. Stiles did, though. It didn't even run on gas, I don't think. It ran on hopes and dreams. Not to mention that it's held together by several rolls of industrial strength duct tape."

He smiled as I turned the key again. This time, the engine turned over and roared to life.

"So, you excited for senior year?" I asked, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot.

"More nervous than excited." He admitted. "But I guess I'm excited to just be done with high school."

"Tell me about it. I just want to get the hell out of Beacon Hills, get all of my undergrad work done, and take the MCAT." I said.

I noticed a small look of surprise on his face. "MCAT? You want to go to med school?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I want to be a surgeon like my dad. I know it's going to take a while but that's fine. I love learning, I just can't deal with all of the drama here."

There was a lot more to it than I could admit to Nolan, but I certainly wasn't lying to him. However, telling him that "drama" meant supernatural creatures trying to kill me and my friends was not an option.

"I don't blame you for wanting to leave." He said, fiddling with a loose string on his sleeve. "Beacon Hills is kind of crazy."

I knew that the beast showing up at the lacrosse game the year before was still bothering him, and with good reason. Nolan, like a lot of other students, had taken shelter in the library when the beast appeared. Physically, he was unharmed; but I knew there had been some psychological damage done. He'd always been anxious, I noticed it the moment I met him, but things had only seemed to get worse after the incident.

My fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as I felt the almost overwhelming desire to tell him everything, to give him answers as to what the hell had actually happened to him. But I knew how dangerous it could be if he knew about everything. I knew what kind of target that could paint on his back and I didn't want that. I didn't want him to feel even half as scared as I did all the time.

"Lauren?"

I blinked once and looked over at him. "Sorry, what?"

"The light is green." He said.

I looked back to the traffic light in front of me, no longer glowing red. I nodded and pressed my foot to the gas. "Sorry, I was just thinking about something."

"About what?" He asked.

"Just school stuff." The lie rolled off my tongue with ease. I didn't even think, my mouth just moved of its own accord. "My schedule for this year is pretty packed. Between AP classes and extracurriculars, I'm not going to have a lot of free time."

"Are you still going to be coming to games and practices?" His tone was hopeful. "It's kind of nice having you there. At least I know I've got one person cheering for me."

I smiled. "Yeah, of course. I haven't missed one yet, have I?"

"I know that I don't always play and I'm probably not even going to make first line but it's just… It's nice knowing that you're there."

I looked away from the road to glance over at him. "Come on, you can totally make first line this year."

He arched an eyebrow at me. "Really? I got my ass handed to me tonight."

"So you need a little work. Listen, you're too nice. That's your biggest problem. Being nice is great until you're out on the field. Just take whatever anger you have and put it to good use. I know you have the skills because I've seen you run drills. It's not until the scrimmage when you get messed up."

"I don't have that much anger." He said.

I rolled my eyes jokingly. "You've got to be kidding me. You're a teenage boy, Nolan. Aren't all teenage boy supposed to be seething with rage?"

"No, I don't think that's healthy."

I laughed. "As a person who is often seething with rage, I feel attacked."

"You?" He questioned. "Seething with rage? What are you even talking about? I know you complain a lot but I've never seen you get angry about anything."

"Because you're not an asshole and you've never given me anything to be that angry about. But believe me, deep down, I am full of hellfire."

"Is it because you're short? It's usually the short girls who are the angriest." He teased.

I smacked his arm. "Oh my god, never mind. You are an asshole. And I will have you know that I am 5'3 and I know for a fact that I am four inches taller than Lainey Harris."

"Lainey Harris is 13 years old. She's only a sophomore because she skipped like three grades. So, is that all you've got? Being taller than a 13 year old? You're 17." Nolan laughed.

I pulled into the parking lot of the diner and found a spot between two minivans. "Are we going to go drink hot chocolate or are you going to further make fun of my stature?"

He laughed as we got out of the car.

I followed him inside. There weren't many people so we took an empty booth by the front window.

A waitress appeared to greet us and ask what we wanted to drink.

"Two hot chocolates." I said immediately.

She disappeared a moment later and Nolan smiled at me from across the table. "Thanks for this, by the way."

"It's no problem. You seemed pretty shaken up and I figure this is the least I could do."

He nodded. "Yeah, that was kind of intense earlier."

"Especially after what happened before." I blurted out.

His eyes widened, and I realized I'd made a mistake.

"Shit, I'm sorry. That was really not cool for me to bring that up. I already brought it up earlier and now this." I ran a hand through my hair. "Really, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No, don't apologize. It's okay, really. I just… I'm surprised. Most people don't bring it up because they're worried that I'm going to break down or something. It's actually nice for someone to not treat me like I'm weak."

"You're not weak at all, Nolan. Not by a long shot. I mean, obviously it's something worth being upset over but you seem to be doing okay, all things considered."

"I just don't know how you do it." He said, picking up a sugar packet from the basket at the end of the table and fiddling with it.

"Do what?"

The corner of his mouth turned up in the hint of a smirk. "Everything. All of this. You were there that night. You saw that thing too. You… You looked it in the face and you didn't run away like everyone else did. You stared right at it. And you walk around every single day like it's fine, like nothing ever even happened. It's like you don't even realize you could've died."

His words hit me hard and I leaned against the back of my seat, folding my hands in my lap. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say.

"And you know just as well as I do that it wasn't just a wolf. It wasn't just some animal attack." He said, resting his elbows on the edge of the table and leaning in my direction.

My eyes went wide and I was happy he wasn't looking at me in that moment. He knew it wasn't an animal and he was suspicious, maybe even of me. And that was a problem.

"I don't know what I saw that night, Nolan. It had to be some animal… Some crazy, mutated bear or something. It wasn't human. What else could it be?" I said.

Nolan looked back at me, his blue eyes scanning my face.

I could tell there was something on his mind, something he desperately wanted to say.

But he didn't.

The waitress strolled back up to our table, setting down two mugs of hot chocolate before wandering off again.

I picked mine up, curling my fingers around the warm mug. I could see steam wafting from the top so I knew it was too hot to drink but the heat made my hands feel better.

"Are you sure it was just an animal?" He asked.

I looked up from my mug to meet his eyes. I wanted to tell him the truth, he deserved to know. But I just nodded my head. "Yeah, Nolan. I promise. What I saw was an animal."

He leaned back, his own hands wrapping around his mug. "I'm sure you're right."

I don't think he noticed the way his voice trembled when he said that. He didn't believe me, at least not entirely. And he didn't know that I knew that.

I took a sip of my hot chocolate, ignoring the way it burned my mouth. "It's okay to be scared, Nolan. Just don't let it control your life."

He nodded, his blue eyes focused on his drink, as if he were expecting a mug full of chocolate to answer all of his questions.

"What is it?" I asked and his head snapped up, almost surprised by my question.

"N-Nothing. Tomorrow's the first day of senior year. I guess I'm just nervous."

He was lying. And he still didn't know that I knew it.

"That's not the only thing you're anxious about. Tell me."

He shook his head and reached into his pocket, pulling out $10 and dropping it on the table. "Really, I'm fine. I just… I need to get home."

"Okay, I'll give you a ride." I said, standing up at the same time he did.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll uh… I'll see you tomorrow."

Nolan all but ran out the door and flopped back down in my seat. I reached for my hot chocolate but realized my appetite had vanished.

I walked outside, pulling my jacket tighter around me and looking for Nolan. He was getting into the car with Gabe, another guy from the lacrosse team, one of the only people I ever saw Nolan spend time with, and someone I'd talked to a few times at parties.

When I got into my car, I realized Nolan had left his bag. I grabbed my phone and sent him a text about it before driving home.

When I got inside, the house was quiet. Mom was already in bed and dad had another late shift at the hospital. I walked upstairs to see if Liam was in his room but there was no sign of him.

I knew he was with Scott so I tried not to worry. But after what happened with Nolan, I was feeling a bit shaken. Something was off, not just with him but in general.

Ignoring the feeling, I changed into pajamas before crawling into bed.

Liam never woke me up so I didn't know when he'd finally gotten home but when I walked downstairs, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal.

"So what happened last night?" I asked, opening the fridge to look for food.

"We found bodies." He said casually.

"Human?" I asked.

"Wolves."

I nodded. "Werewolves or just wolves?"

"Not sure yet." He stood up to put his bowl in the sink and I closed the fridge.

"You ready for today? Did you pick your classes?" I asked, leaning against the counter.

He nodded. "Did you?"

"I picked mine weeks ago. You're the one who saves everything for the last minute."

"Have you heard anything about the new guidance counselor?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Not much. I know there have been some kids meeting with her throughout the summer."

"About what?"

I folded my arms across my chest. "The Beast. They were all in the library when it happened. I found out because of Nolan. I guess he sees her like once a week."

"I didn't know he was even there." Liam admitted.

I nodded. "It really scared him, Li. And I'm worried; Not just about Nolan, about everything. What if people are suspicious? I'm pretty sure everyone there is smart enough to know it wasn't an animal."

"Just calm down. We've been dealing with this long enough, we know how to handle it." He said.

I took a deep breath. "You're right. We have other bullshit to deal with today. So I'm going to go get dressed and we're going to senior registration and we're going to be normal high school students for once."

Liam offered me a smile. "That's the spirit, sort of."

I rolled my eyes and gave him a light shove. "Very funny. Get dressed, I want to leave in twenty."

My phone chimed as I made my way back to my bedroom and I checked it, expecting to see that Nolan had finally texted me back but it was just my dad, wishing me good luck for the first day of senior year.

I placed my phone on my desk while I got dressed and was just pulling my sweater over my head when there was a knock on my door.

"Come in!"

The door opened and Liam stepped inside, leaning against the wall. "Ready?"

I nodded. "I think so."

He tossed me my adidas backpack that was laying on the floor by the door and I slung it over my shoulder before following him downstairs.

I drove that morning and since Nolan's bag was still in my car, I'd had to field a bunch of questions about it from Liam.

"Listen, we went to get food. It's not like I went on a date with him. He's my friend, Liam." I said, glancing away from the road to shoot him a look.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't aware that I had to tell you everything I do, Li. Last time I checked, you're my brother, not my dad."

"I still need to know where you are. What if something happens to you? How can I find you if I don't know where you went?" He asked.

My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Okay, I get it. I understand. But what you have to understand is that I am capable of taking care of myself. You can't just baby me all the time."

"I know that. I know you can take care of yourself. But what you have to understand is that there are things out there that you can't protect yourself from. What am I supposed to do if something happens to you? What's the pack supposed to do?"

"You say that like I'm some crucial member of the pack. I'm hardly a True Alpha. I'm not even a werewolf. I can't predict death, I'm not strong, I don't… I don't even have a bat!" I almost laughed.

I pulled into the school parking lot, found an empty space, and put the car in park.

"Lauren, stop. Just because you can't…"

I cut him off. "Can we do this later? Please?"

Liam groaned and thumped his head against the back of the seat. "Fine."

I turned the car off and grabbed my backpack and Nolan's bag before getting out of the car.

"I'm sorry, Li. I'm just stressing out right now so if we could handle this later that would be great. I just want to meet with the guidance counselor and get it over with." I said, running a hand through my hair.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry too. I just worry about you a lot."

"I know." I said, staring at the ground as we made our way towards the building. "I know you're just looking out for me."

When we got inside, most of the seniors were already lined up in front of the guidance counselor's office.

"I'm not just going to stand around so I'm going to find Nolan to give his bag back and I'll meet up with you after, okay?" I said.

Liam gave me a wave as I took off the down the hallway.

Nolan was standing in front of his locker, typing a text on his phone.

"Good to see it still works." I said.

"What?" He asked.

"Your phone. It's good to see it still works. Thanks for texting me back."

I dropped his bag at his feet before turning on my heel and walking back in the direction I'd come from.

When I found Liam again, Mason and Corey had joined him in line and they were all talking about what classes they'd selected on the registration sheets.

"What's wrong?" Liam asked as soon as I walked up.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You smell terrible." He said.

I glared at him. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "Chemosignals. You smell like you're pissed off. And it's not a good smell."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm fine. Mostly just annoyed. Don't worry about it."

I leaned against a random locker as we waited for the line to move forward.

It took what felt like hours but the line slowly dwindled down. Liam, Corey, and Mason too their turns before I did.

It wasn't until they'd all gone until when I realized Nolan had gotten into line right behind me.

"Hey, Ren?" He asked timidly.

I turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I didn't text you. And I'm sorry I ditched you last night. It's just… I've been really anxious lately and I've been acting like a jerk because of it."

I stretched onto my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. "It's okay, Nolan. I can't stay mad at you, anyway."

His arms wrapped around my waist and gave me a light squeeze. "I'm still sorry."

I pulled away but smiled up at him. "I know. But you're my friend. So, I guess, if you're feeling like this and you need to take it out on someone, you can take it out on me. I can handle it."

The door opened and I heard a voice call out for the next person to come in.

"That's me." I said. "See you later, okay?"

I walked into the office, closed the door behind me, and took a seat.

"Lauren Dunbar?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Miss Monroe and I'll be your new guidance counselor." She smiled at me.

I smiled back. "Nice to meet you."

I reached into my backpack to pull out my registration sheet.

"So, Miss Dunbar, what are your plans after graduation? What colleges are you looking at?" She asked as I laid my paper on her desk.

"Harvard Med, Johns Hopkins, and Stanford Med are my top three picks. Beyond that, Duke, UCSF, and Yale." I explained.

"Aiming high, I see."

"Not too high though, right?" I asked.

She laughed lightly. "With your grades, I doubt anything would be too high. I do have one concern though."

I shifted in my chair, feeling my heart rate pick up. "What would that be?"

"Your attendance." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. "Your record shows that you missed 49 days last year."

I looked down at my lap. "I know my attendance has been bad the past couple of years but I plan on doing a lot better this year."

"Do you mind if I ask the reason your attendance record got so bad so quickly?" She asked.

I almost laughed. "I was really stressed and it caused me to get sick a lot. I, uh, I did therapy for a while though and now it's not as bad."

Miss Monroe nodded once. "I'm happy to hear that. Now, about your test scores; I see that you've already taken the ACT."

"Yeah, I did it in the spring." I said.

"Is there a reason you decided to take the ACT instead of the SAT?" She asked.

"I planned on taking both, actually. I figured it would just provide another score for schools to take a look at whenever I apply." I explained.

She smiled. "And have you started any SAT prep yet?"

"I took a practice exam over the summer. I got a 2290. I've already checked each school's SAT, ACT, and GPA requirements online. My scores are high enough for all six of the schools I'm considering. Not to mention, I have all of my extracurriculars."

She picked up my registration sheet and looked over the classes I'd selected. "AP bio, AP anatomy, AP chem, trig, English, Latin, and gym. Perfect choices, Miss Dunbar. What branch of medicine are looking to go into?"

"Surgery and emergency medicine." I explained. "I was thinking maybe working in a trauma unit or something."

Monroe laid my paper back down on the desk. "Well, it appears you've got everything planned out. You barely seem to need my help."

I laughed. "I don't usually need much help with anything anymore. I've had to deal with a lot these past couple of years."

"Like what?"

I shook my head. "Nothing I'm big on talking about. It's just a lot of drama."

"I know what it's like living here in Beacon Hills. We've all been through a lot, things that aren't easily explained." She said.

I realized then that the tone of her voice, the pitch, hadn't changed once in the entire time I'd been in her office. And that was unusual. But the meaning behind her words had my head spinning. She knew things. "What do you mean?"

"You were in the library last year, weren't you? You saw it, the animal attack."

I nodded. "Yeah. I saw the animal."

"What do you think it was?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. It was dark. I thought it was a bear or something."

"Are you sure about that?" She asked.

I noticed her eyes narrow slightly and I squared my shoulders. "It's not my job to know what kind of animal it was. It was just my job to get out of there, and that's what I did."

Monroe's smile barely looked fake. "I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Miss Dunbar. Thank you for coming in. You can take your registration sheet to the front office to turn in and they'll have your schedule made soon."

I stood up and grabbed the paper from her desk before walking out.

Nolan stepped inside and shut the door as I made my way down the hall to where Liam, Corey, and Mason were all standing.

"I don't trust her." I said immediately.

Liam's eyebrows raised. "You just met her?"

"Yeah, I know. And she was already asking me about what happened in the library last year. She knows it wasn't an animal attack so she starts asking me what I think it was. I can't tell if she's smart or a complete idiot. Either way, I don't like her. Didn't she ask you guys anything weird?"

Liam shook his head. "No, not really."

"Yeah, actually. She was talking about how things have happened that don't come with easy explanation and that anything we talk about in her office is confidential. I really don't think she was just talking about my schedule." Mason said.

"She made you kind of uncomfortable, didn't she? Not enough that you immediately want to run in the other direction but just enough that you don't want to be in a closed room with her?" I asked.

Mason laughed but nodded. "Yeah, a lot like that. She definitely knows more than she should."

The sounds of footsteps drawing closer to where we were standing brought the conversation to a close. I turned to see Gabe walking towards us, his eyes focused on me.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" He asked. "Privately."

Liam shot me a look but I just shook my head before turning back to Gabe. "Yeah, of course."

I followed Gabe to the opposite end of the hallway where he leaned against the wall. "What did you and Nolan talk about last night before I picked him up?"

"I'm fine, how are you?" I snapped. "And why are mine and Nolan's conversations any of your business?"

"He was upset after he left you at the diner. I want to make sure that's not going to happen again. He's not just your friend, he's mine too."

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest. "I was talking about the library. I didn't mean to upset him. If anything, I was trying to help."

"By upsetting him?"

"I tried telling him that he doesn't have to let fear control his life. I was trying to tell him that it was just some freak animal attack and he doesn't have to be terrified that's it going to happen again. He was upset to begin with, okay? After what happened at lacrosse practice, he was really freaked out. I told him we should go get some hot chocolate to help him relax. I thought talking about it might make him feel a little bit better." I explained.

Gabe rolled his eyes and looked away before his eyes flickered back to mine. "Well, clearly you fucked up."

"Yeah, clearly I did. But at least I fucking tried, Gabe. At least my idea of helping him cope is something healthy. You just try dragging him along to parties that he's uncomfortable going to. That's not the kind of person he is. He's not as social as you and I are. Shit, just take him to a movie or something; a comedy, he hates horror films."

He shook his head, glaring down at me. "Do you think you're special just because you know that about him?"

I shrugged. "Not really. But I suppose you think you're special, running around like you have some monopoly over being his friend."

"You should watch your attitude." He warned.

I laughed and began to walk away before I called over my shoulder to him.

"Threaten me again and I'll beat you to death with your own lacrosse stick."

[bellatrixobsessed1]

McMalfoy’s (Part 1)

So awhile back things were really slow at work so I may or may not have written a fic (on receipt paper of all things) to vent about work. Now I may not work in food, but this made me feel better about my job. 

So I present to you all, a fanfic about Harry (and his co-worker, Draco) doubling as an employee for both McMalfoy’s & MalfoyMart. A good number of these chapters will be based on things I’ve had to deal with at work. 

Once upon a time there was a kid named Harry Potter. He worked at McMalfoy’s part time. He promised himself that it was only temporary, he would keep the job until he had just enough to go to Merlin’s Music Magic festival that summer with Ron and Hermione. It was pricey, but all of the sickest wizard rock artists were going to be there. So McMalfoy’s would do. It was okay mostly, but his coworker Draco was kind of a jackass. Of course Draco was the boss’ son so he never got in trouble for licking the French fries of muggle born customers. Or for hitting on hot babes when he was supposed to be flipping burgers.

“Babes before burgers, Potter.” He’d say assholishly.  And since he was the boss’ son Harry would take the fall for the low productivity and the growing stream of customers.

 What made it worse was that McMalfoy’s was ran out of the Malfoy Manor so sometimes he’d get lost on the way to the kitchen and find some muggle corpses or run into Voldemort combing his lack of hair after getting out of the shower on a fine Saturday afternoon. But worst of all were the rude customers.

 Bellatrix was a regular, and she always had something to bitch about. One time she tried to use a Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut coupon at McMalfoy’s. He remembered the day quiet vividly, being as it was the first experience he had ever had with a customer like her.

 His Wednesday started out decently normal, with Draco adjusting his uniform hat, pretending that he could make it work. Literally no one could ever pull off a McMalfoy’s bucket had not even Cho Chang. Not even Flure Delacour. But hey, Harry had to give him props for effort. Of course, it was Draco’s turn to wipe down tables, but Crabbe and Goyle decided to drop in at that time. Harry found it funny how the pair always showed up when Draco was supposed to be wiping tables. Grumbling to himself, Harry picked up a handful of paper towels and a spray bottle. He wouldn’t get reprimanded for Draco’s laziness this time! He was running on auto-pilot scrubbing robotically as he waited for the lunch rush. He came to the table in the back corner, his ‘favorite’ to clean. He began referring to that spot as the artists’ corner.  That day’s mural was a classic. A nice big ol’ depiction of someone’s junk, captioned ‘Big D’. Harry would know it anywhere, he’d caught Dudley drawing it on menus at various high-end restaurants, and even once at a playground. Harry assumed he’d be free of it at McMalfoy’s but apparently the Malfoy’s were willing to serve anyone who had bucks to throw at them. So Harry found himself scrubbing at Big D, resenting Dudley for using a glittery gold sharpie this time. Within five minutes, Big D was very nearly gone.

 It was at about that time when Lestrange kicked in the door—literally lifted her leg and slammed it against the door despite having two perfectly functioning arms. Her hair was disheveled with her comb still stuck in it.  He sometimes liked to replay that moment in slow motion with a freeze frame on the part where she practically toppled to the floor. Upon successfully entering the establishment, Bellatrix balled her fists and scanned the place as if scoping out an employee to fight. Rodolphus sulked behind, silently begging her to, maybe, not do that.

 As was the script Harry gulped and greeted, “welcome to McMalfoy’s how can we McMake your meal?”

 “Two apple pies and McMalfoy’s flurry. Rod wants a burger.” Bellatrix replied, leaving Harry to mutter, “thanks for asking Bella, I’m doing great.”

 Instead he spoke, “Please let me get to the register so I can...”

 Bellatrix gave a dramatic huff. “Do you need to? Can’t you just take my order?”

 “Well I have to be able to enter your order into the register so…”

 “Just hurry up, I have places to be.” Bellatrix scoffed.

 Harry made his way behind the counter, to his luck Draco took this as his cue to follow and ready the stoves. “Okay, what can I McMake you?

 “I already told you. I want two apple pies and a McMalfoy’s flurry. With extra chocolate chips. And Rod wants a burger.”

 “Actually I wanted a chicken sandwich.” He squeaked.

 “He will have the burger.” Bella stated firmly. “Also get me a chocolate frog to go with that.”

 The feeling of dread that crept into his soul was overpowering as he carefully replied, “we don’t sell those here.”

 “Don’t. Sell. Those??? Here???” She shrieked. “What do you mean you don’t sell those here!?”

 “We only see those on Mondays when we are MalfoyMart. We’re McMalfoy’s at the moment, mam.” Harry explained. Frankly he thought it was very ridiculous for the Malfoy’s to double as a restaurant on some days and then become a popular grocery store on other days. But hey, if magic can do it then it would be done. Such was the way of the Malfoy.

 Bellatrix squinted menacingly at him. “Draco’s father will hear about this.”

 Harry stole a glance back to see the boy mentioned, blushing at how he had just been mocked. If Bellatrix hadn’t continued to be a complete and insufferable pain in the rear, that might have made up for her prior remarks. But no, reformed (and he used that word oh so loosely) or not, Bella was still Bella. If she couldn’t cause people physical agony she would settle for mental torment and the opportunity to be annoying enough to give someone a brain aneurysm.

 Harry held his smile. “I’m sorry about that. Would you still like the rest of your order?”

 “Sweet Lord Voldemort below! You have the brains of a house elf, of course I want the rest of it!” Bellatrix chided as Rodophus pretended to be very interested in the cheap toys that came with the kid’s meals.

 “Hey Bella look at that one.” He pointed at a plastic wand that looked like Lucius’ cane.

 Bella ignored him. “Also here, it says I get five knuts off.”

 “Bellatrix, you must have grabbed the wrong one, this is for Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut.” Harry fought to keep his smile good and wide.

 “Not it isn’t” She insisted.

 Harry couldn’t stop his eye from twitching. “Would you like to take a look, Madame Lestrange?” He hoped against all hope, that the use of the formal title would stroke her ego just enough to get her to calm down at least a little.

 She turned the coupon over in her hand, inspecting it way too closely. Once, then twice, and then a third time as if doing so would change what it read. “Hmmm.” She hummed before turning it a fourth time. Harry wanted to bang his head against the counter. And in that demented sing songy voice he had become accustomed to she asked, “Well can you use it anyways?”

 Harry blinked twice. “It’s for Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut.”

 “But if you use it, it can be for McMalfoys?” She seemed genuinely confused.

 “I’m sorry, Madame Lestrange, our registers can’t take coupons that aren’t ours.”

 He expected another one of her frenzied explosions. The ones that typically led to the police being called. She surprised him though, in calmly taking the coupon back with an, “oh, okay, just let me see it.” She turned her back on him, there was a flash of purple light. “Here you go, that’ll be five knuts off of my meal.”

 In her palm lie a clearly counterfeit McMalfoy’s coupon. “Bella, I just saw you use magic.”

 “Wh-what, me? Use magic?? To get my way??? I would never.” She sputtered with false shock.

 “Hey dear?” Rodolpus tried. “I’m very hungry, it’s only five knuts and we’re one of the richest wizarding families, can we please just order our meal?”

 “Can we just…pfft…order our meal.” Bellatrix snorted. “No, we can’t just ‘order our meal.’ We’re getting five knuts off, I have a coupon.”

 “Yes, you have a coupon, it’s the wrong coupon.” Draco grumbled to his aunt. And to Harry he muttered, “this changes nothing, Potter, we simply have a common enemy right now.”

 “Alright fine, how’s this?” Bella bargained. “No coupon but I get a toy.”

��“From the kiddie meal?” Harry asked.

 Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed, clearly she was getting serious. “From the kiddie meal.” She confirmed.

 Harry sighed, he didn’t want to do this. “Just a moment, let me ask my manager.”

 Bellatrix clicked her tongue and drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter until Malfoy’s majestic mane could be seen swooshing around the corner. With all of the regality a pureblood ought to have, Lucius came to stand behind the counter. “Yes, Potter?”

 Before Harry could open his mouth to explain the situation Bellatrix spoke up. “You’re employee is not being cooperative.”

 Harry’s jaw dropped at the sheer audacity of the woman.

 “He won’t take my coupon that I saved specifically for this moment.”

 “It’s for Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut.” Harry put in quickly. “So I offered…well she offered to take a kid’s meal toy instead.”

 “Just let her use the coupon.”

 “Wha-what?” Harry sputtered.

 Lucius took the coupon from Bella and finished processing your order. “That will be seven knuts and with the coupon…two knuts.”

 Harry knew at that moment he was in for a long few months. It was about four days now, since the incident, but he was still shaken. It haunted him on his lunch breaks, as he pondered whether or not she used a McMalfoy’s coupon at Hagrid’s Hamburger Hut. He took a bite of his PB&J sandwich and gazed at the restaurant mansion. Bellatrix was skipping up the walkway and he only had five minutes left of his break.

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/a-womans-world/a-u-s-woman-president-is-possible/

A U. S. Woman President Is Possible

As news outlets reported the final count in the South Caroline primary, I wrote on my Facebook page, “not a single woman,” suggesting neither Elizabeth Warren or Amy Klobuchar *would survive after Super Tuesday.  Certainly, they picked up no delegates in South Carolina, putting a wider gap between themselves, Bernie Sanders and Joe Biden.   Though disappointed with the results, I wasn’t surprised. Women live as second class citizens here and around the globe, no matter their social class.  The March edition of Vanity Fair, for example,  details the efforts of one Dubai Princess to escape her Sheik husband and his silken prison. What good is gold if there is no freedom? At the other end of the spectrum, Mexico, as I mentioned in a previous blog, has decided to stop collecting data on femicide. The announcement drew fierce criticism from women. Nevertheless, President Andrés Manuel López Obrador turned a deaf ear.  In his narcissistic view, his political enemies are behind the outcry.  (The Week, March 6, 2020, pg. 8.) Men the world over give themselves a pass where women’s rights are concerned. France awarded Roman Polanski, a confessed child rapist, its most prestigious film award this year. And what about Biden? He waited  29 years to apologize to  Anita Hil for his conduct at Clarence Thomas’ Supreme Court hearings. The timing couldn’t have looked worse as his apology coincided with his announcement that he would seek the presidency. Little wonder that Hill found his remarks opportunistic and inadequate. As for Bernie Sanders, how are we to understand his youthful manifesto on equality between the sexes? He may have been decrying gender roles, but what about his underlying assumption? Does he still harbor the pernicious view that women long to be gang-raped? One needn’t look far to see the deep prejudice women face in our society. Surely, the Harvey Weinstein prosecution and the #MeToo movement has blown the lid off any illusion that it doesn’t exist. Perhaps now we can grasp why, given the degree of power men hold in our culture, a woman may refuse to seek justice from her abuser and even allow him to maintain the facade that they are on good terms–particularly as only 0.5% of rapists are convicted.  (The Week, March 6, 2020, pg. 6) Of course, women are fearful. And why shouldn’t they be? Haven’t they seen one or two of these “good” men elevated to the highest court in the land?     Until women command a greater share of power in this country, true gender equality will remain a goal rather than a reality. Make no mistake, the struggle will not be easy because too many women, consciously or unconsciously, remain infected with a patriarchal germ that speaks to their inferiority. Even so, I begin to suspect a woman may become president of the United States while I live. Whichever Democratic candidate emerges as the winner of the primary, the political climate is such that a woman is likely to be his running mate. If that is the case, we have only to remember that Sanders, Biden, and Michael Bloomberg,* men well into their 70’s, have significant medical conditions.  Biden has had two life-threatening aneurysms (1988), while Sanders and Bloomberg have heart stents.  If biological longevity plays out, then a woman, being stronger, will assume the presidency, if only by default.   *While writing this blog, Amy Klobucher announced she was withdrawing from the race and Bloomberg has also since withdrawn.

[steveholley]

Farewell, Rod Bramblett

If you grew up in the 80’s or 90s in the Deep South as my generation did, you grew up surrounded by college football every Saturday.

If we’re being honest, it wasn’t just Saturday’s. In the state of Alabama in and other SEC states in particular, college football — Southeastern Conference football — was and is a 7-day-a-week event.

But nothing was more exciting than game day Saturdays and the night before leading up to a big conference game.

Things are still that way today and always will be, but it’s different now. The biggest difference between us is how we followed our teams back then and just how reliant we all were on the radio broadcasts of our team’s games. This was before the days of 740 channels (or even 60) and before every single game on the schedule was televised nationally. Before ESPN expanded to eleventy billion spinoffs and FOX launched regional sports networks and conferences began launching their own networks. Before you could get instant notifications on your phone letting you know every first down, change of possession, scoring update and red-zone alert. Before Twitter, Facebook, Reddit and the whole internet in general.

If you were lucky in those days, you had basic cable — all 30 some-odd channels — and could watch your team on ESPN. If not, you’d better hope they’d be in the ABC Game of the Week with Keith Jackson or Brent Musburger and Frank Broyles and Bob Griese.

But the only real, sure-proof way to stay in touch with your team on a weekly basis was through radio. In my hometown, we had an FM station that carried Alabama games each Saturday and a smaller, AM station that broadcast Auburn games. Birmingham and Tuscaloosa each had their own Alabama affiliates to choose from depending on which had the best signal reception on a given Saturday.

And there was nothing — absolutely nothing — like the feeling of being in the car with your parents and listening to your team on the radio. For me, that was Eli Gold, now in his 30th year as the play by play voice of the Tide, the late Doug Layton and the always colorful Jerry Duncan.

Games that weren’t on TV — ABC, CBS, ESPN and the late dearly departed Jefferson-Pilot Sports — left us strictly reliant on radio unless you wanted to shell out $40 for Pay-Per-View. My hometown’s Alabama radio affiliate even had a setup where you could call the station���s number, be put on hold and listen to the broadcast over the telephone. Looking back, I suppose it was the precursor to listening through smartphone apps like Tune In, iHeartRadio, Radio.com and Sirius.

But whether the game was on TV or not, there was always radio, and nothing made you feel closer to your team than being in the car or sitting around the house listening as Eli Gold or conversely Auburn’s Jim Fyffe describe each play as it happened — the excitement in their voice as David Palmer broke free on a punt return or Sherman Williams made a man miss to make it a foot-race to the end zone.

The first Iron Bowl I ever watched as a kid was in 1990. The game was on CBS, which in Birmingham had always had the weakest of all the over-the-air network TV signals and was hard to catch in a lot of homes more than 30-40 miles away from the city. Alabama had gone up 10-0 in the game before a late first-half Auburn score made it 10-7 at halftime.

I vividly remember my 9-year-old self getting sick to my stomach that day and had to be taken to the urgent care center a good 30 minutes away. My father loaded all of us into the car and we drove into town with the game on the radio. By the time we’d arrived and Auburn looked as though they were about to score following an Alabama turnover inside their own 10-yard line, my father couldn’t take it any more. He snapped off the radio dial right as we pulled up and didn’t find out until he was in the doctor’s room with me later that night that Alabama had won. As Tide fans will recall, it turned out that Auburn had fumbled the ball right back to Alabama on the very next play, the pivotal turning point in the game.

The Tide won, 16-7, off three Philip Doyle field goals, snapping a four-game losing streak to Auburn that had cost Bill Curry his job. (Fun fact: the first time I ever heard my father use profanity as a kid was when he’d yell at Bill Curry during the middle of a game while sitting on the couch. Until I was 9, I thought Curry’s full, legal name might actually be, “That Goddamn Curry.”)

As years went by, I listened on the radio as Alabama came from behind to beat Mississippi State after trailing late in the game in their championship season of 1992, and a few weeks later when Antonio Langham — my favorite player growing up — intercepted Shane Matthews’ pass and returned it for a touchdown to beat Steve Spurrier and Florida in the first ever SEC Championship Game at Birmingham’s Legion Field.

A year later, I was in the car with the radio on when Auburn’s Patrick Nix found future NFL great Frank Sanders for a touchdown that lifted the Tigers to a victory over ‘Bama to cap an undefeated regular season. The following year, Auburn came from 21-0 down to get to within a score of possibly tying or winning the Iron Bowl when Sanders was tackled one yard shy of a would-be first down to end the game.

When we reached our teenage years, my brother and I gathered around a small, table-top radio in my grandparents’ home and listened as Alabama suffered one of its most embarrassing defeats in program history to Louisiana Tech on a 4th-and-goal from the 26 yard line that Tech’s quarterback somehow converted into a touchdown pass. Those are just a few of the memories I have of listening to football games on the radio growing up.

Arkansas quarterback Clint Stoerner’s late fourth-quarter fumble at Neyland Stadium to keep Tennessee’s undefeated, championship season alive in 1998? The car radio on an AM station out of Knoxville after sunset, when many AM signals from hours away become possible to catch.

Vanderbilt games on WSM in Nashville, the home of the Grand Ole Opry, on 650 AM? The car radio. An occasional Ole Miss game on a station in East Mississippi? A (long-wave) radio that picked up signals out of Columbus. It was always a feeling of excitement when another team’s broadcast signal found its way to your radio at night.

In the summer, we could listen to Skip Caray and the Atlanta Braves but that was nothing; at least three radio stations within our area carried the Braves broadcasts. After dark, you could pick up KMOX’s strong overnight signal out of St. Louis and listen to the Cardinals and occasionally, on clear nights, the Cubs on WGN Radio out of Chicago and the Tigers and Ernie Harwell out of Detroit. But college football in the Deep South was and is the king of all kings.

So why the trip down memory lane? The sudden, tragic passing of Auburn broadcaster Rod Bramblett Saturday night has got me to thinking about all of the ways Mr. Bramblett and his colleagues have given us the gift of college football via the radio dial over the years.

My heart is aching over Mr. Bramblett and his wife Paula’s untimely and almost unthinkable death in a fatal car accident in Auburn. As I always have when trying to process sadness, I sat down at my computer and began to write.

When you’re an Alabama fan, it’s only natural to go behind enemy lines and tune in to the Auburn broadcast whenever they’re not playing at the same time as your team. I was drawn to this as a kid listening to the late Jim Fyffe call Auburn games on the radio with his patented pro-Tigers slant and signature nails-on-the-chalkboard yelling of, “TOUCHDOOOOOOOOOWN AUBUUUUUUURN!” after every score.

When Mr. Fyffe passed away suddenly in the summer of 2003 following a brain aneurysm, Rod Bramblett stepped into his chair and picked up right where his predecessor had left off. It may seem strange coming from a rival fan, but as legendary as Jim Fyffe was, I never really noticed a difference when Rod Bramblett took over his vacancy. That’s a credit to Mr. Bramblett, whose style offered the same mannerisms; the same audible grunts and groans when his team was playing poorly and equally the same jubilation and swag when they were winning.

I won’t pretend to glorify the late Mr. Bramblett or claim that I was a lifelong fan. That would only cheapen the man. What I will say is that what he meant to the Auburn community and its fan base and how much he gave to the school — both on and off the air — is something that precious few broadcasters can do and something that no one will ever forget. I have many friends and colleagues in the journalism industry in Alabama and in radio who met Rod Bramblett and never once did I ever hear that he was anything but a genuinely nice and pleasant person to be in the room with.

I don’t know who Auburn will hire to take his place and it is too soon to even begin to speculate on that. But with Mr. Bramblett’s passing, an unmistakable void is left in the hearts of true fans who appreciate college football that goes well beyond just his loyal listeners on football, basketball and baseball broadcasts; it affects not just “The Loveliest Village on the Plains” but the entire state of Alabama, which is in mourning today, and indeed the college game we love so much on a national level. Tributes are pouring in from all over the country and will continue in the days, weeks and months ahead and rightfully so — beginning with the finale of today’s SEC Baseball Tournament in Birmingham. Mr. Bramblett has earned them.

Life and Auburn football games on radio will go on after Mr. Bramblett’s passing, the same as it did with Mr. Fyffe’s sudden passing 16 years ago. But I hope that for a moment anyway, we can set aside all of these suddenly silly and trivial sports rivalries — as reasonably as we can — and remember that there are real people involved in these rivalries and that they have lives, character, family, friends and so much more. So, so much more.

One last thing before I wrap this up. As painful as it can still be to relive for Alabama fans, even with two championships and a 4-1 record vs. Auburn in the years since, I sat down Saturday night and early Sunday after the news of Mr. Bramblett’s passing and pulled up his two most famous radio calls via YouTube, both from 2013: the “Miracle on the Plains” catch by Ricardo Louis on a Hail Mary pass to beat Georgia and Chris Davis’s “Kick Six” return in that year’s Iron Bowl.

The latter will forever be one of the most memorable calls in sports history, period. The sheer pandemonium and jubilation in Bramblett’s voice as he screams from the top of his lungs: “THERE GOES DAVIS! OH MY GOD DAVIS IS GONNA RUN IT ALL THE WAY BACK! AUBURN’S GONNA WIN THE FOOTBALL GAME! AUBURN’S GONNA WIN THE FOOTBALL GAME!” And in his best Bob Uecker from ‘Major League’ voice, “OH MY GOD AUBURN WINS IT! OH MY LORD IN HEAVEN!”

“They’re not gonna keep them off the field tonight,” Mr. Bramblett exclaims.

Nor will they keep Rod Bramblett off the proverbial fields henceforth, or from having a lasting memory and a special place in those same peoples’ hearts and many others that will always live on.

We are none promised another day. Mr. Bramblett and his wife's sudden passing is yet another painful reminder of that. Be kind to each other while we’re all still here and let love win.

From one radio loyalist to another, rest in peace, Rod Bramblett.

[russian-fairy]

OtaYuri fic recs #5

But I’m Not There Yet by sarahyyy, teen, 4.5k

“Are you not going to read the article?” she asks, flopping onto his bed. “Look who ranked second, just after Phichit Chulanont.”

Otabek reluctantly scrolls down, and oh.

#2 - Yuri Plisetsky

In the embedded Instagram photo just under that subheading, a very grumpy Yuri is cuddling a very grumpy-looking cat. The caption reads: I found the cat version of me at the shelter today. #iknowisaidnomorecats #canyoublameme

(Or, the AU where Otabek and Yuri don’t becomes friends in Barcelona, and there are years of pining.)

Anything But Obvious by Tessa on Ice (tessacrowley), explicit, 15k, warning: minor character death

Yuri Plisetsky would rather die than ever be obvious.

What Hoodies Are Made Of by pissedofsandwich, teen, 1.2k

Let it be known that Yuri Plisetsky is killed by his first friend, and possibly, if given more time—and if he could just admit it deep down in his heart that yes, he has a crush on Otabek the size of St. Petersburg—his first boyfriend, during the exhibition gala of Trophee de France.

Oh, what’s the murder weapon, you ask?

The goddamn hoodie.

Or: Otabek dresses sexy for his EX Gala and Yuri loses his shit.

Press 1 For More Options by mousapelli, gen, 480

Otabek usually sees a fairly finite number of things when he answers a Skype call from Yuri. Yuri’s cat is not usually the one calling.

Come When Invited by mousapelli, gen 4.5k

The 2022 Olympics are in two months, so Otabek proposes the only one way they’re going to change Yuri’s citizenship in time. Or he just plain proposes. It’s one of those.

Hamster in Kazakh is Still Hamster by mousapelli, gen, 875

Otabek has a hamster. Yuri regrets teaching him how to use instagram.

Could Have Gone Worse by plapcat, gen 2.8k

When Yuri’s parents are brought up for the first time, Otabek hardly notices.

Five times Yuri’s parents are brought up around Otabek, and one time he meets them for himself.

Consorting With the Enemy by Imagines, teen, 2.5k

“You really make it hard for anyone to get close to you, don’t you?” a.k.a. the one where they accidentally hang out for twelve hours straight and it’s a Problem. Set after ep 10.

Time Goes By So Slowly by Imagines, explicit, 3.5k, warning: minor character death

Whenever the phone rings at 4 a.m., it’s never someone calling to say you won a million dollars or an all-expenses-paid cruise to the Caribbean, or that your bronze medal has just been bumped up to silver due to some kind of scandal. 4 a.m. calls are reserved for emergencies and tragedies, so Otabek’s heart almost slams out of his chest when Yuri’s name pops up on the screen at 4:13 a.m. on a freezing January night.

Gold at Both Ends by TheLittleSongbird, teen, 2k

Yuri shrugs in return, “I guess Viktor gave Katsudon some stupid ultimatum–he said he wanted to kiss his gold medal when he won the Grand Prix. But Katsudon won silver, and so Viktor….”

“Gets to kiss Yuuri Katsuki instead of a piece of metal?” Otabek finishes. “Seems like Katsuki didn’t really lose at all.”

Or that one time where Otabek kisses Yuri’s gold medal and Yuri has an aneurysm.

Untitled by limitlessmonster, teen, 667

“What’s it say?”

Otabek continues scrolling through his phone, brows creased and teeth edging his bottom lip as a scoff escapes. Quiet and amused, but noticeable still. Yuri is about to grab the device when his own phone chimes, prompting him to check his Twitter feed.

.@otabek_altin why do you call @yuri_plisetsky “kit”? aw honey it means “whale” in russian. don’t call him that. u should use something else

[news4dzhozhar]

**Just got this long interview brought to my attention. As this is the most recent installment I'm posting the body here. For the previous parts, follow the link at the bottom of the page this is sourced from. The whole thing is dizzying & at times contrary to itself but - decide for yourself** In our last interview, we agreed to not post any more Sean Gannon interviews as long as they did not retaliate against our source Sean Gannon in any way. They have not honored that. Not only has he been Relieved of Duty, stripped of his badge, gun, and even personal civilian License To Carry, they are going further. They cannot do this permanently and officially Terminate him unless they prove misconduct. They have convened an Internal Affairs hearing for this purpose on Monday, January 9th, 3:00pm at Boston Police Headquarters, 1199 Tremont Street. We have a new interview that we believe will change their minds. Sean Gannon Interview Part XIV Sean Gannon: I’m going to start off with some little-known facts. I trained at the same martial arts school as the Boston Bomber, Tamerlan Tsarnaev for YEARS. I also spent years as a member of BRIC (Boston Regional Intelligence Center). Here is an old article from a conspiracy website entitled “Six Degrees of Sean Gannon” http://carriemath.blogspot.com/2014/01/six-degrees-of-sean-gannon.html describing some of the events that went down and the connection I had to them. It concludes with “Knowing Sean Gannon will lead to death 5 out of 6 times.” It’s one of those conspiracy theories that actually happens to be somewhat true … except they’re WAY underestimating the body count. I’m going to lay out some little known (so far) facts here. Tamerlan Tsarnaev was an FBI asset. He was an FBI asset for a LONG time. Those times he got thrown out of the Cambridge mosque for being “too radical”? He was a “Mosque Crawler” – one of those FBI informants that pretend to be a radical so he can wrap up real Muslims in FBI stings with 20-year sentences. The people of that mosque were the good Muslims, people that just wanted to be good Americans, a better life for their children, and to not make more problems for their Muslim brothers. They tossed him out on his ass. They also probably suspected he was an informant as well. Did it ever sound strange to anyone that Russia explicitly warned us he was a terrorist upon his return to the US, but somehow the message got “misplaced.” It wasn’t “misplaced” we’re the ones that SENT him over there to act like a radical in the first place. Some say the Russians are paranoid. Well, it’s not paranoia when they really ARE out to get you. I don’t know enough about Russian regional politics to know exactly what he was doing over there, but I can assure you it wasn’t for the benefit of the Russians. After many years of struggle and sacrifice, Putin had finally managed to establish a degree of peace between Chechens and Russians, Muslims and Christians. Tamerlan was there to undermine that, and who was going to suffer? Innocent Russians dead in terrorist attacks and the good Muslims who would be blamed for what the pawns were doing. In Dagestan, Tamerlan formed a friendship with another young Muslim named William Plotnikov. They had very similar backgrounds, both had fled the former Soviet Union, both were elite amateur boxers in North America, both (allegedly) were devout Muslims and had a lot of other things in common. There were a lot of things that made Tamerlan identify with Plotnikov. Plotnikov was then killed in a shootout between police and militants in Dagestan. Two days later Tamerlan returned to the US. This is when the REAL radicalization of Tamerlan took place. I saw the difference in his face and manner as soon as he got back to the gym. He had always taken his prayer breaks in the gym before (we never had to wonder what direction Mecca was) but now they had a special intensity. He had grown a big beard to impress the radicals overseas, but it grew even bigger now that he actually meant it. Muslim brotherhood is a very real thing. Betraying your fellow Muslims is one of the worst things a Muslim can do. It’s actually the number one way the FBI and Israelis get you guys every time. Once you have betrayed your people in the smallest way, you are now a marked man for life if they ever release that information. Your family, your friends, your own mother will disown you. That means THEY now own you, body and soul. Tamerlan’s only way out now was murderous martyrdom. And he was going to take as many people with him as possible. I want to take a minute to explain who MY Muslims are. Boston is a diverse, fairly international city. With all the elite colleges like Harvard and MIT around here, out of the ten wealthiest men in the world, sometimes six of them have sons in Boston. King Bhumibol of Thailand (may His Majesty rest in peace) was born here while his father studied medicine at Harvard. The sons of the most wealthy and powerful families in the world come here, many of them Muslim, and do their thing for four years. You’ve got to understand, for many incoming Muslims, just the way women dress in America is like us going to a topless beach in France for the first time. Alcohol may be an illegal drug where they come from, so them going to a club in Boston would be like us having our bartender serve hash brownies and lines of cocaine … and our bartender is naked. When they have to go back home after four years, they’ll have a party that’s more like a funeral. But they usually leave with fond memories of our city. If they stay, they often end up concluding that the Prophet banned booze for a reason and quit drinking, but they’re still just fun cool guys to hang out with. I’m going to quote one of my Muslims, “I fast for Ramadan, I don’t eat pork, I pray, I look out for my fellow Muslims and I quit drinking. The only thing I can’t quit is hot girls in yoga pants.” Those are my Muslims. You’re a little wary of the psycho Muslims, but once you go out partying and chasing women with these guys, you’re like, “He’s OK, he’s just here to have a good time and make a better life for his family.” Tamerlan had previously passed that test. His radicalization happened later … but not the way people think it did. A little more on my Muslims in Boston. They’re not all rich kids from foreign countries, they’re also the small-business owners, the cab drivers, and many of the hard working regular guys and family men that make America great. I also do a lot of wrestling and martial arts, so I know a lot of great guys like coach Muzzafar “Moose” Abdurakmanov (former Uzbekistan National Champion), Sobhan “Soap” Namvar (former Iranian Juniors freestyle champ, beat the current Olympic Gold Medalist twice), Mohammed Hadifi and hot middleweight Muay Thai prospect Hussein Ilsadek. All really solid guys. I’ve even made friends with a couple of Nation of Islam Muslims … no easy feat for a pasty white cop like myself. I did it by being a straight shooter, honorable, honest guy in all my dealings, and they respected that, as I respected the role so many of them played as hard working, clean living, salt of the earth types that helped keep their communities together … even if neither of us agreed with all of each other’s beliefs. Also, men like Captain “Hadji” Hussein of the Boston Police Department. His nickname is not the racial slur, it predates it by many years, it’s based on the lovable friend from the old Johnny Quest cartoon and the title bestowed on devout Muslims who have completed The Hajj to Mecca. That name has a special meaning within this organization. For decades, whether he was your Sergeant, your Lieutenant, or your Captain, if you got a tough, dirty, dangerous assignment, you would tremulously ask, “Who is the boss?” And if someone answered, “It’s Hadji” you would breathe a sigh of relief and say, “It’s gonna be OK, Hadji is in charge.” He’s one of those guys where big problems become small ones, and small ones just go away. He’s like oil over troubled waters, he can solve problems that cause riots in other cities with 15-minute conversations. And when one of the military reservists in our organization get’s activated, he gets an obligatory email from Hadji saying, “Hey, hey, you better be careful if you be shooting at MY people!” He genuinely feels Muslim brotherhood, and he wants every soldier going overseas to remember that not all Muslims are our enemies, that there is a good Muslim at home that he respects, and that there are good Muslims everywhere that should be treated with respect. He doesn’t beat you over the head with it, he leads by example and then makes his point with wit and humor. He’s smooth like that. Now back to Tamerlan’s murderous martyrdom rampage – He wasn’t a real radical before, he BECAME radicalized by the way the FBI used him. The “Fast and the Furious” scandal from the ATF was such a big deal because it killed innocent Mexican nationals and cops. This will be MUCH bigger news here, because this time the blowback on their failed operation killed American nationals and American cops. It wasn’t just MIT/Somerville Police Officer Sean Collier that got murdered, it was also Boston Police Officer Dennis Simmonds. He got hit with one of the bombs chasing the suspects through Watertown. He eventually recovered enough to go back to work, but died of a sudden brain aneurysm a year later (almost to the day). Some people say “Boston Police are so brave.” Not really, we just have a great system. If we die in the line of duty, our kids get our pension as if they were us, something to take care of them the rest of their lives, like we were still there. They even get our jobs (automatically at the top of the Civil Service list). There is almost no downside to dying as a Boston Police officer. However, Dennis died young, before he had a chance to have any kids, so he didn’t get this. He does, however, have nieces and nephews, and they should never want for anything the rest of their lives. And the Federal Government, the ones that caused this fiasco, are the ones that should pay for it. Officer Sean Collier was in a similar situation. As are the civilian victims, Krystle M. Campbell and Boston University student Lu Lingzi. 8-year-old Martin Richard William didn’t even live long enough to have nieces and nephews, but his sister, brother and parents should never want for anything. That family should be made whole somehow. The good people that were maimed should be made whole (as much as we can) and not just by charitable donations, but by the same Federal government responsible for it. And we’re going to have to make things right with China in some way for getting their national (Lu Lingzi) killed with this operation. Kirik Jenness: Jesus. And they killed two cops? SG: It actually looks like it may have been more than two … this operation was going on a long time. It isn’t as well documented, and I’m still working on it, but if you kill a cop anywhere near MY city, it’s ME that’s honor bound to go after you. And I will not stop until you are brought to justice. And by the way, three of the guys intimately involved in the murders of Officer Sean Collier and Officer Dennis Simmonds are still walking free today, protected by the FBI. They’re not in some secret cell somewhere either, they’re walking free, still committing crimes, still a menace, and still a threat to kill more cops. KJ: Jesus! How did you find all this out? SG: Like I said, I was THERE when all this stuff was going down, I knew all these guys, am a decorated 20-year veteran of Law Enforcement, a member of MENSA, and was assigned to Boston Regional Intelligence as well, where you tend to learn a lot of stuff. It was all funny from the beginning, there were a lot of clues, stuff that didn’t add up, and stuff I couldn’t put together till later. Nothing I could prove … until now. What brought it all together is when I was doing some whistleblowing on some (in comparsion) lesser police misconduct. I referred to having “a lot of dirt on a lot of people” and some other specific things (will explain in another interview) and, being who I am, they panicked. KJ: What tipped you off? SG: When I went to the FBI with allegations of serious police misconduct, they inexplicably reported my “confidential” interview to the target of the investigation and have cooperated in a full court press to silence the whistleblower. They haven’t reported a witness to the target like that since the days of disgraced FBI Agent John “Zip” Connolly and Whitey Bulger. Luckily, I’m a Dick Lehr/Gerard O’Neill fan, so I figured it out quick. KJ: That’s really messed up! SG: Yes it is. It’s about the worst thing you can do in Law Enforcement. It means witnesses can’t come forward anymore because they can’t have faith in you to protect them, that you’ve lost all your street cred and that you’ve jeopardized your entire ability to be effective at your job. Nobody will talk to you anymore because nobody can trust you. I’m going to put it in starker terms: In any warrior society, honor is an integral to your existence. It’s especially important for Warrior Protector’s like Law Enforcement, because if you can’t protect your witnesses, you can’t protect anything. There is a STAIN on the honor of the FBI right now. It began when they set up witnesses for hits with Whitey Bulger, and good agents doing good work for decades had succeeded in wiping most of it away. And now all that work is gone and it’s right back on. KJ: Isn’t it dangerous to call out the FBI like that? There is no easy time for a cop. SG: I’ll be fine. I actually like fighting even more than I like women … and I LOVE women! I decided I was ready to go to prison for my principles a long time ago, and there are few people better equipped to handle it than me. Is it dangerous? Yes it is. I’ve done a lot of dangerous things in my life, but this is by far the most dangerous. And most necessary. They are the most powerful Law Enforcement agency in history, and if they want to hurt you they can. I’m gambling that the good men in the FBI outnumber the bad, that it’s just a few bad apples, and that the good men will prevail. They can act out to silence the whistleblower, but they’ll still have the same systemic issues until they address them. I’m hoping someday the FBI will come to appreciate that what I did was for the good of the organization, and for Law Enforcement everywhere. Also, we have evidence that they’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to avoid the upper echelons of the FBI, including FBI Director James Comey and their congressional oversight. Stuff that goes directly to the highest levels. I’m trying to avoid talking about certain topics here because it might affect good people that don’t deserve to be hurt or National Security. I will if I have to, but that is an absolute last resort, and I’m praying they don’t make it necessary with their ham-handed attempts at intimidation and retaliation. Retaliation from any party will lead to further information being dropped, and I won’t be so circumspect in the future. And it’s already encrypted at Wikileaks, and in the hands of people that will release it immediately if anything happens to me, even an arrest on a trumped up charge. And this stuff gets even more messed up. KJ: it’s not messed up already? SG: It gets substantially more messed up. This was just a warning shot. I mostly just want to be left alone by all the people messing with me right now. If they back off, I’ll back off. But it better be quick, because more stuff is dropping soon, and it’s much, much worse. KJ: Worse than this? SG: Yes. Much worse. KJ: Can you prove the things you’ve already said today? SG: Yes. It’s been documented in meticulous detail by award-winning journalist Michele McPhee, a veteran of the Boston Herald, Boston Globe, New York Daily News, Channel 5, ABC and current host of the radio show Afternoon Drive. It’s all been compiled in her new book Maximum Harm and will be a six-part documentary on the History Channel. Today, I talked mostly about the well-documented stuff in her book, but the new stuff we’ve got is MUCH worse (a lot of it based on some extraordinary work by the great Bruce Gellerman of WBUR) and we’ll be adding that to the documentary. KJ: Why didn’t she put it all in the book? SG: She wanted to, but she had a sketchy near death experience and decided it was safer to publish what she had, and do the rest later. Plenty here for more than one book anyway. I highly recommend that anyone that wants the REAL story of what happened with the Marathon Bombing to buy her book, it will blow your mind, and teach you a lot about how the world really works. And tell Joe Rogan, “Looks like you were right after all.” KJ: This is a little different from the movie. SG: It is. That is also one side of things. Mark Wahlberg is a brilliant creative mind on top of his acting abilities, but if you want to know what’s really going on behind the scenes in Boston, you’re going to have to go to someone like me first. And people like me are few and far between. That would actually make a great sequel, Wahlbeg’s character doing a little detective work and figuring out all the things going on behind the scenes in the first movie, and then bringing the additional cop killers and people pulling the strings to justice. Post Script – Thanks to all the people from so many unexpected quarters that reached out to help during this thing. And thanks to Anon for reaching out too. I wish I could have engaged you more, but I’m working very hard to do the Martin Luther King/Ghandi non-violence strategy – take a moral stand, speak the truth, and let your enemies make themselves look bad by the things they do to you. And anyone that has seen me fight knows that I’m willing to take a beating to get the win. You guys tend to wreck s***, which wouldn’t be in accordance with these principles. The other problem is that you’re a mixed bag, a motley crew, a real rogue’s gallery, some great guys, and some not so great guys. And many of your guys are too soft to do their own time, and roll on your fellow Anon quickly under pressure. Worse, they become way too enthusiastic about it (a common problem with certain kinds of informants), they act like they’re Junior G-Men playing Cops And Robbers instead of playing with people’s lives. No matter how much you like someone’s internet persona, never give clues to your real identity if you’re doing dirt together. You’re riddled with informants, and it’s dangerous to even talk to you guys because sometimes I might as well be talking to the bad guys direct. More on this at another time, you can thank me later. Here is a website with a few articles discussing the discrepancies over the years: whowhatwhy.org/2015/04/09/was-tamerlan-tsarnaev-an-fbi-informant-odds-say-its-possible/ whowhatwhy.org/2015/04/25/the-unexplained-connection-between-the-fbi-and-two-muslim-friends-killed-by-law-enforcement/ whowhatwhy.org/2016/05/11/tamerlan-tsarnaevs-immigration-records-reveal-fbi-bombshell/ whowhatwhy.org/2016/06/26/classic-whowhatwhy-tamerlan-tsarnaev-double-agent-recruited-fbi/ These were all first-page Google hits for me, but if you want more diverse sources, I recommend googling the obvious questions yourself and seeing what you turn up. It’s surprising. However, most leads tend to go suddenly and inexplicably dead in weird ways. And sometimes, literally. Here is a list of the House Judiciary Committee which oversees the FBI. Most of them are good and honorable people that were prevented from finding out the full scope of this fiasco by rogue elements within the FBI. They need to know the truth now so they can put an end to this, and put those three remaining cop killers behind bars. Please contact them and ask them to look into this, especially if you’re in their district. 114th Congress Majority Bob Goodlatte, Virginia, Chairman (113th) Jim Sensenbrenner, Wisconsin Lamar S. Smith, Texas Steve Chabot, Ohio Darrell Issa, California Randy Forbes, Virginia Steve King, Iowa Trent Franks, Arizona Louie Gohmert, Texas Jim Jordan, Ohio Ted Poe, Texas Jason Chaffetz, Utah Tom Marino, Pennsylvania Trey Gowdy, South Carolina Mark Amodei, Nevada Raúl Labrador, Idaho Blake Farenthold, Texas Doug Collins, Georgia Ron DeSantis, Florida Mimi Walters, California Ken Buck, Colorado John Ratcliffe, Texas Dave Trott, Michigan Mike Bishop, Michigan Minority John Conyers, Michigan, Ranking Member Jerrold Nadler, New York Zoe Lofgren, California Sheila Jackson Lee, Texas Steve Cohen, Tennessee Hank Johnson, Georgia Pedro Pierluisi, Puerto Rico Judy Chu, California Ted Deutch, Florida Luis Gutierrez, Illinois Karen Bass, California Cedric Richmond, Louisiana Suzan DelBene, Washington Hakeem Jeffries, New York David Cicilline, Rhode Island Scott Peters, California