#anticipate and derail the trigger before it becomes a trigger

[dearviper]

Certain Dark Things Chapter 19: I Do Not Love You

This is going to be an incredibly triggering chapter for multiple reasons. PLEASE read the following warnings.

WARNINGS: 18+ (minors dni!); strangling/physical abuse; use of gendered slurs; ATTEMPTED RAPE

Table of Contents | My Masterlist

You awoke in your bed, chained once more to the wall. The door was closed, and your ears rang at the suffocating silence.

Though you tried to convince yourself that it was just a bad dream, reality would not let you ignore it.

Fat tears leaked from your eyes as you stared at the door, dreading the moment when Edward would walk through it.

You sat there for hours before the knob finally turned and Edward entered the room. He was no longer in his Riddler uniform, and you wondered morbidly if it had become too drenched with blood to wear.

He didn’t speak as he pulled up a chair and sat before you, face impassive. Eventually, he cleared his throat and broke the silence.

“I thought you could handle watching, but you have more of a… delicate constitution than I anticipated.”

You let out a small huff of mirthless laughter. “I suppose you could say that.”

Unsure if you truly wanted the answer, you asked, “Savage, is he…?”

“Dead,” Edward replied curtly, watching for your reaction. You showed no surprise — you felt no surprise.

“The body?”

“Disposed of.”

You nodded slowly, still staring off into space. Right now, you felt like an outsider to your own life. Like you were watching this conversation happen in a movie, the silver screen acting as a protective shroud from the horrors of reality.

The longer you dwelled on them, the more Edward’s sins wrenched your mental stability. Though you had not seen Savage’s death, your imagination recreated the event for you.

The starving rats chittering with their jagged teeth and sharp claws burrowing into this man’s head, chewing at his-

Vomit leapt up into your throat and derailed your thoughts.

Seeing your distress, Edward stood up and took you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. His touch was like acid burning your skin, and you were shaking with animosity.

How was it that mere hours ago he tortured a man to death, chained you up again, and now stood here appropriating your touch?

How was it that one man could be so consumed by insanity that the incongruity of his actions was unapparent?

How could he still expect- no, how could he still feel entitled to your forgiveness? Your love?

And just like that, it was as if time had halted. The collar tugged uncomfortably against your neck in the stillness of the moment.

Your love. That was what he wanted.

That was his weakness.

Cautiously, you pressed a reluctant kiss to Edward’s throat. He froze and tensed up, though he did not pull away.

Trembling, you repeated the action on the other side of his throat. This time he did pull back, eyeing you warily.

You swallowed harshly and said breathily, “Make me forget, Eddie.”

His own breath was coming out in heavy pants, invading your own lungs in the limited space.

“What?”

“Please,” you sniffled, a timely tear streaking down your cheek. “Just… make me forget.”

He let out a shuddering gasp, almost a whimper, before yanking your head forward and crashing his lips against your own.

You threw your arms around him in kind, pressing your chest flush against his own until you were sure you could feel both of your hearts beating.

Dropping a hand to your thigh, he hitched your leg up around his waist and began grinding against your center. He threw his head back, allowing you more access as you kissed up along his neck and jaw.

Edward gasped out your name pathetically as you nibbled on his ear.

“Bed?” you breathed out.

Immediately — desperately, he nodded and climbed up onto the bed with you. He practically collapsed on top of you, his body crushing your own. All the wind got knocked out of you, but he mistook the noise for one of pleasure.

He growled and dove his face into your chest, inhaling deeply.

“My angel, my sweet girl,” he murmured. “So beautiful like this. Y’look so good under me. Where you belong.”

Maybe he liked you under him, but the position was less than ideal for you.

“Eddie,” you moaned out his name. “I wanna be on top. Wanna ride you.”

His hips jerked involuntarily at your words and he let out a pitiful whine.

“Alright?” you pressed, and he nodded frantically.

“Alright.”

Awkwardly, he flipped onto his back and let you straddle him.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Eddie,” you cooed, tracing his jaw with your finger. He mewled at your words, practically crying.

Pathetic.

You surged forward, capturing his lips with your own. Grabbing his hands, you placed them on your ass to get them out of the way.

Oblivious, he moaned happily into your mouth at what he perceived to be an act of desire from you.

Wasting no time, you began rolling your hips against his, grinding down on the bulge in his pants. Despite the buffer of the fabric, you could feel him coming undone beneath you.

“Are you gonna cum for me, Eddie?” you asked huskily. Unable to respond verbally, he nodded feverishly once more.

You timed it perfectly.

Just when he fell over the edge, you yanked some of the slack from your leash and looped it around his throat like a garrote.

You could see the moment where the O of pleasure on his mouth turned into one of horrified realization as you pulled tight and began to strangle him.

Edward thrashed wildly under you, bucking and kicking and trying to get away long enough to get a breath in. You only jerked the cable tighter, righteous fury burning and consuming you.

“You stalked me!” you screamed in his reddening face. “And you kidnapped me, and you touched me, and you poisoned me twice! Yeah, I know about the Ipecac, asshole! You’re a fucking murderer and a freak, and you’re going to rot in hell!”

You were shrieking like a banshee, but in your frenzy you could hardly care. He tried to speak, but it was in vain. The only noise escaping his throat was choking gags.

The asphyxiation took hold of him, and for the first time in your life you saw someone’s face turn purple with oxygen deprivation.

A small part of you pitied Edward as you watched the light die from his eyes. His whimpers were childlike, imploring you with the little energy he had left to show mercy.

You showed none.

His heavy lids shut, his chest stilled, and his body went limp underneath you.

You released the cable, shaking with both exertion and adrenaline. Your heart raced as it finally sunk in that you just killed a man.

Sucking in deep, large breaths, you shut your eyes and tried to still your pounding heart.

You shouldn’t have let your guard down.

Too late, you registered Edward sitting up and thrusting a hand to your collar. Easily, as if playing with a rag doll, he dragged you back down and clambered on top of you, straddling your hips as you had straddled his only minutes ago.

“You fucking whore,” he roared in your face.

“Eddie-”

“Don’t ‘Eddie’ me, you stupid cunt!” His purplish-red visage was one of fury, of betrayal. “I love you, I take care of you, and this is how you treat me?!”

“You kidnapped-” He struck your face with the back of his hand to silence you.

“I AM TALKING!” he bellowed.

He was in the full throes of psychosis now, panting heavily and glaring at you with demented eyes. Wrapping both hands around your throat, he began strangling you as you had done to him.

“All I wanted was for you to love me. Is that so much to ask?”

He paused as if he expected an answer, but his fingers still dug into your windpipe and all you could do was gag. Edward shook his head bitterly.

“But you never will, will you? You’re just like every other skank on this planet, using your sexuality as a weapon to get what you want and then discarding me after.”

You gasped for air like a fish on land, but none reached your lungs. Tears were pouring down your face, both from the lack of oxygen and from your terror.

“If you want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like one,” he threatened, eyes flashing.

Pinning you down by the throat with one hand, he reached the other down to yank down your pants.

“No!” you choked out, your protest sounding more like a rasp than the roar you intended. You scratched at his face, drawing blood from those cherubic cheeks.

Your attacks were met with violent backlash as he grabbed your hair and slammed your head into the wall.

The world around you began to spin at both the impact and sudden rush of air to your lungs, and you sobbed as you heard the sound of a zipper.

You began to shut down, dissociating from your body as you waited for the agony.

And waited.

And waited.

It didn’t come.

“Shit,” Edward hissed.

You managed to force your eyes back into focus and found that he was jerking himself off rapidly. You almost wept in relief when you realized that he was doing so because he couldn’t get hard.

In a rage, he shoved you away from him viciously and slid off the bed. Running a hand through his hair, he began to giggle maniacally.

“Oh, you. You, you, you, you, you!”

His frustration was palpable in the room, now silent apart from your coughs and sobs as you struggled to regain your breath. He fixed that mad gaze on you with a curious sort of wrath.

“I just can’t do it! Because even though you betrayed me like the stupid dog- like the bitch you are, I still love you.”

You did not respond, only glaring at him with pure loathing in your eyes. He stalked back over to where you sat on the bed against the wall. You jerked away, but he was too quick.

Grasping your jaw painfully, he began to adjust the cable to shorten your leash. By the time he was done, your neck was bound almost directly to the wall, save for about a foot of slack.

“I still love you. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be punished,” he said in a low voice, smiling cruelly at you with vengeful eyes.

Abruptly, he grabbed the bed frame and yanked it out from under you. You yelped as you landed clumsily, stubbing multiple toes, choking yourself slightly on the collar, and twisting an ankle in the process.

With the collar this taut and without the bed to sit on, you had to balance on the balls of your feet to keep from gagging as the collar dug into your neck.

Edward dragged the bed as far from you as possible. When he was satisfied, he opened the door and left the room.

He returned moments later with the rat cage. Inside were the remaining rodents, squeaking and squirming all over each other.

Setting the cage down on the ground, he opened the gate. In their writhing mass, the rats began to tumble out the side, spreading out across the room and searching for shelter in its dark corners.

One bold rat approached your bare foot, sniffing curiously as you stomped to try and spook it.

“I have a riddle for you, dog,” Edward giggled almost mischievously.

“Edward,” you breathed. “Please.”

He ignored you.

“Now, stop me if you’ve heard this one before: The more there is of me, the less you see. What am I?”

You stared at him with horror as he killed the lights and slammed the door shut, submerging you in complete darkness.

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[that-is-just-so-typically-me]

I’m feeling so torn. After about a year of occasional text conversations with my ex, I think I’m recognizing a pattern where for a while afterwards, all the hurt and angry and afraid parts of me seem to come creeping so close to the surface of my skin at all times, and it becomes harder for me to walk around my life accessing the default calm, settled, generally kind reactions I tend to have first. My inner peace just gets incredibly disturbed. I’m uncertain if this means that actually I have barely processed or managed anything in a meaningful way, and it’s not healthy or possible to be in contact with her as long as I continue to grieve our dreams and plans together, being together for the rest of lives. I feel like I hold my anger and fear and despair at the same time as I hold my forgiveness and love and hope. I don’t want to shut her out now that a part of my exists that welcomes it - because I can’t possibly not care for her, and there are parts of me that know I am generally okay enough, the parts that function which have gotten me moving my life along this whole time. It feels artificially angry and aggressive to ask for no contact. Like, the angry parts of me exist parallel to the parts that understand everyone is flawed and complicated, and that traumatized people traumatize people, and we’re all doing our best. And god, I miss her. Even this small, apparently too painful interaction fills a tiny bit of glue in the rip that runs through everything. And maybe how good and right it feels is the entire reason why it’s so dangerous for me. And there’s the way that every time I see her name in my notifications and begin subconsciously anticipating a response, my mind flashes back to memories, which usually ends up with my mind playing back the most painful and traumatic moments like the worst home-movie I keep rewinding and reliving. And then it turns into the nightmares about her and her girlfriend (always accompanied by other stressful but unrelated nightmare plot points, to add insult to the injury). The nightmares snowballed when I got home from my recent trip, and now I’m fighting the most intense perseverations about what happened. And there’s the way I know I begin to expect a response in a certain time - just based on her texting habits and patterns - and it is so unsafe for my nervous system to subconsciously expect anything from her, after how worthless I ended up feeling when she chose her other partner over me in so many small and big situations. Literally obviously she owes me nothing, but of course I am aware that she is living her life with her partner so I’m in those instants of realizing I haven’t heard back when I guessed I might, I of course think “Oh it’s a Saturday, they’re on a date” which of course triggers the thought of not being the one she goes on Saturday adventure with anymore, and someone else is in the place I was doing those things with her instead. And building a whole life with her instead. And I know that and mostly I can hold that jagged truth in my bleeding hand and I’m so used to it and I get by and can even smile at times. But the constant, jarring, unexpected reminders that feed into these weeks of flashbacks and insomnia and nightmares. It’s derailing and negativity impacting my life in a tangible way.

I’ve started struggling with restricting my eating again, which hasn’t happened since the pandemic hit when I was isolated at home with my parents, and was going through an emotional hell realizing they were isolating together, and getting together. I used rationing food as my excuse to punish my body for her no longer loving me. It feels like that again, and I guess it’s just an even bigger trigger for my already constantly triggered body image. It’s not good. I know I can’t keep going on in a pattern like this.

It’s all so incredibly embarrassing. I was doing pretty well with all of this, all things considered, before I got the text last month. I just hate that I still feel this way after so long. I’m so frustrated that I have been pouring my blood, sweat, and tears, harder than ever, harder than I have worked for anything else in my life (except perhaps my degree) into all of this healing work, but something like this still affects me so badly.

It feels wrong to cut off all contact with her. I really want to be healed enough to still have at least a casual acquaintanceship. I hope I can get a grip and not subconsciously spiral out every time I hear from her, but I don’t know if I can. I’m having to face the humbling possibility that I am still way too damaged to do it. And if I am still this damaged, why is it that the work I’ve been doing hasn’t been healing me? And what else can I try instead to actually reach this anger and fear and pain and release it? I want to heal so badly. I know that there is nothing for me here, stuck staring at a moment for the rest of my life. She chose to leave me. She chose to be with someone else. I respect that and I can stay here scraping myself raw against this truth and nothing is ever going to change it. I can’t go back to the past. But what I can do is keep moving forward into the future in spite of all of its terrible and beautiful uncertainties, if I can just keep going and not keep tripping when I stop turning to stare back at the past, if I can just start glancing instead of staring. My heart is so raw and scared and feel so fragile, like a new and ugly bird (hopefully kind of cute, still), but it’s it’s out there in the open and I am so ready for something good to happen again, to someday feel the irons fall from my soul and float again in the reckless trust and love and fearlessness I once I had. If I can just figure out how to do it, I would do anything to get the freedom of the soul back, to get all of myself back, no longer bleeding, but warm and safe and loved - by me and all the hearts I cherish.

I’m seeing my therapist on Thursday. I can make it.

[theskyeandsea]

Snappy Birthday! || Group Chatzy

Timing: May 2nd, 2020

Location: Nicodemus and Skylar’s House

Description: Skylar and Nell threw an unfor-gator-able surprise party for Nic. No hunters, humans, or supernaturals were hurt in the making of this chatzy!

Tagging: @carbrakes-and-stakes​. @walker-journal​. @harlowhaunted​. @nelllraiser​. @theskyeandsea​. @corpse–diem​. @bountybossier​. @3starsquinn​. @chasseurdeloup​. @hunter-haywood​. @deepintheredwood​. @fairyjeff​.  

Skylar looked around at the small gathering of people, more than a little anxious. Nell had really outdone herself with the decorations-- the alligator inflatables she'd found shoved in a back closet were pumped up and scattered in different rooms, the large alligator cake was sitting on the table, there was a massive gator themed centerpiece on the gift table, and Dundee was walking around in his costume. Skye had helped set up most of the decorations, but she left putting Dundee in the costume to Nell, she was still a little skittish around the dog, even if he'd only ever barked at her once or twice. There were buckets full of ice and beers by the pool and in the kitchen, along with more than a few bottles of whiskey. Walking into the kitchen, she smiled nervously at some of the people who had gathered there. "Thanks so much for coming, I'm really glad you all could make it!"

Nell was anxiously watching her phone, wanting everything to be as perfect as possible when it came to this party. In honesty, she wasn't entirely sure when she'd become the type of person to help plan three parties withing a few months span, but she certainly wasn't mad about it when it was for friends and the people she cared about. Waiting for Erin's text, she readied herself to tell everyone to hide and quiet down, knowing that if they missed the crucial and initial 'surprise!' it would derail the biggest part of any surprise party. Already she'd sent numerous texts to Erin, checking in a possibly obnoxious amount to make sure everything was going to plan. "For sure," she echoed Skye's sentiment, glad she'd had such a good partner for this event. "I haven't heard from Erin yet, but they should be coming any moment so- everyone just get ready. Think about where you might want to hide." She'd also been sure to try and request that Erin make sure no weapons were on Nic, not wanting the surprise element of said party to result in injury when it came to his party guests.

Kaden didn't know Nic that well but he liked the guy well enough to go to his birthday party on the invite alone. Plus, it couldn't be worse than his own. No mimes in sight, a good sign already. His brow shot up at Nell's announcement. That sounded like a bad idea. "Are we really jumping out and yelling surprise at a hun--" He caught himself. "Guy. At the guy. That sounds like a bad fucking idea." He sighed and found a spot around the corner where he didn't have to crouch down or do anything ridiculous and could keep his beer on hand. Let someone else get knocked in the head for hiding in a hunter's house and jumping out and yelling surprise.

Adam arrived in thunder of whoops and hollering as he and several brawny fellows pilled out of pick up truck and began rolling up kegs to the door covered in various phallic puns incorporating Nic’s new age. When the truck eventually drove off, Adam burst in wheeling a keg will dressed in short sleeves and wearing a hideous bandanna in the shape of a well-endowed alligator.

Nell wasted no time in staring down each and every one of the assumed frat boys that approached the party, asserting dominance as quickly as she could to let them know that she would not hesitate to kick each one of their asses if they so much as ruined an inflatable alligator, or her and Skye's vision for the party. Of course...the beer was a welcome addition. One could never have too many kegs. "We'll just jump out not near him," she quickly supplied to Kaden. "And maybe Skye can be a little decoy when he walks in." Then she went to Adam, reaching out to prod the bandana on his face. "There are going to be children gators here," she joked, not actually planning on the young man taking it off.

Trying to be inconspicuous about keeping Nic out of the house was harder than Erin anticipated. That’d been her only real job for the day, and compared to the massive amount of work Nell and Skylar had put into it, she’d gotten off pretty easy. CHILL. Pulling up. Five minutes. She quickly texted Nell, giving what felt like the twelve status update that hour. “Thanks for, uh--carting me around all afternoon,” she glanced over at him, though she wasn’t able to entirely meet his eyes. Their last conversation hadn’t been entirely pleasant, and largely consisted of Erin telling him she should stay away while the murderous squid had a hold on him. And then here she was, out of the blue asking him to help her run menial little errands all day to keep him out of the house. Avoided any real conversations by popping in and out of the truck, and taking her good old time at each spot. Her eyes narrowed as they started to pull into the driveway. “Oh!” She piped up as she hopped out of the car, moving to the driver’s side and held out her hand. “Weapons. All of them,” she nodded at him, making a ‘gimme’ motion with her fingers. “You still owe me that tour of the pool, right?” She gave him a smile, trying to keep this light. This was a totally normal request. “We don’t need weapons to check out a pool.”

Golly, Hunter was so excited to be invited to Nic's birthday party! He hadn't gone to one since his daughter's Haylee's fifteenth and that had been awkward since his (ex) wife had been flirting with his best friend the whole time. He couldn't blame her he supposed, Frank was a really nice fellow and he was handsome to boot. He followed behind Adam, the younger man dressed strangely, but Hunter was sure it was just the popular fashion. Grinning he looked around the party,"Wowie, y'all. It looks great. Who decorated? I love the theme!"

Eventually Adam handed out monopoly money to his friends and sinewy friends departed, still sweaty from the keg rolling he took out yet more Caligula gator bandanas and offered some to Hunter and Nell "Don't pole him," he cautioned Nell regarding her prodding the bandana "You'll just make him more excited, here I have some for folks."

Skylar nodded at Kaden's advice. That was admittedly something she hadn't really thought about. The idea of jumping out at Nic was probably a bad idea, even if it was just for a party. Before she could respond, she blinked in surprise when a man burst through the door with... kegs? Face turning bright red as she realized what was on his bandana, Skylar turned to face Nell instead. "Mhm! I can do that!" She said, hurrying to take a seat on the couch next to one of the lamps. This was casual right? Just... sitting on the couch? Surrounded by inflatable alligators and beer? "I'm all set when everyone else is."

Why was Red going to another hunter birthday party? After Kaden's mess, they had almost sworn off going to anyone's birthday party. Still here they were, surrounded by a weirdly theme birthday party, but at least, Red supposed, it wasn't mimes. "Kaden's right. I don't want to be punched," or worse,"in the face today and I doubt anyone else does."

Orion stood awkwardly in the house. Skylar hadn’t been lying, this place was huge. He recognized a few people but felt weird approaching any of them at the moment. He had waved to a few people when he got in. This was supposed to be a surprise, but Rio wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of trying to surprise a hunter. He remembered trying to scare Athena as a kid and ended up flipped onto a coffee table. He hadn’t tried that ever again. So he tried picking a spot as far from the door as possible for when Nic got back. Out of the danger zone.

Jeff wasn't really in the mood for another party, especially since he hadn't even made it in the door for Kaden's. But considering there was no mime tomfoolery here, it was safe. Even if he still couldn't speak. He sulked over by Kaden, beer in one hand and a clumsily wrapped present with crocodile wrapping paper in the other. When the small child that babysat his dog ordered them to hide, he shuffled behind Kaden. But if Nic wanted to punch someone at his own birthday party, then that was his God Given Right. He drank his beer, opening his mouth to say something..... and then nothing came out. He drank more beer instead.

Nicodemus had stayed fairly quiet for the majority of the drive, unsure of what to say. He didn't mind running around mindlessly with Erin. Even if mindless was a bit of a tender term considering...everything. He frowned. Damn it. The hunter glanced overr at Erin and nodded, a slight furrow even as a slight smile showed. "Ain't a thing." He mumbled to himself as they pulled into the driveway and got out of the truck. At her sudden exclamation, his eyes darted over to her and he breathed easier when it was nothing. "My weapons?" He questioned but started anyway. Twenty minutes later, he was done pulling out every small knife, bullet, and even a fountain pen that he had kept on him. The unsharpened pencil was last. His eyes narrowed slightly as he started toward the door. "Y'wanna do that now?" He nodded to the door and started toward it. "Yeah, alright, guess I can do that now."

The silly little tripwire spell Nell had set up was triggered the moment Nic and Erin neared it, and soon enough she was shushing the rest of the crowd, trying to make sure no one was in punching distance of the door. "Okay, okay, they're here! Get ready!" she said in a hushed whisper, looking to Skye to give the girl a reassuring smile.

Blanche wasn't surprised that Nell had outdone herself again. She was, however, at the amount of Frat boys with Beer and gators that showed up. Once Nell gave the signal to get ready, she made a beeline for Rio. "Hide!" she said, excitedly.

Adam immediately fell into a commando-like sprawl, Hunter surprises perhaps having been more militaristic operations back home.

Hunter crouched down next to Adam, though his knees creaked as he did. He supposed it was probably time to go back to the doctor like his (ex) wife had wanted him to years ago. "You look like you're on a stakeout there, kiddo. Trying to make sure Nic doesn't see ya?" He hoped Nic wouldn't be able to see him like this. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get up anytime soon, much less hide.

Orion could have hugged Blanche, he was so excited to see her. “Oh thank god you’re here.” He was still a bit nervous about hiding but decided to go along with Blanche, just making sure to move them away from the door when they did.

“Jesus, are you like the Mary Poppins bag of deadly weapons?” Erin mumbled, unable to hold onto everything he’d just painstakingly pulled from every pocket and hiding spot on his body. She heaved them with some effort into the back of his truck, then ran back to cut him off at the door. “Ladies first!” She nearly chirped, hoping to God Skylar left the door unlocked. When it opened, she took a quick glance inside, could hear people shuffling and paused just in the doorway. “Wow!” She bellowed, not letting him step in immediately. “This place is amazing!” It was, and she’d get into that later, but that was probably enough of a warning, right? Still, she took long, careful steps and reached for his hand to keep him from moving too quickly into the doorway or past her, sharing the same thought the rest of the partygoers had. For the love of God, don’t spook the fucking hunter.

When the door swung open, Skylar smiled and waved from the couch as the two of them stepped into the room. "Surprise, Nic! Happy Birthday!" She said brightly. She really, really hoped that Erin had confiscated all of Nic's weapons, getting something thrown at her might put a damper on the whole... birthday celebration.

Being late was not something Alain had ever been comfortable with and yet this was exactly his situation right now. From the other side of the road he had waited for twenty minutes for Nic to be done with his fucking collection of weaponry. Well, at least, he was now the least likely to get shot by birthday boy. Watching Erin lead the way to the place, Alain sighed heavily and got out of the car, present under his arm. "About fucking time." Following behind, he arrived just in time to hear a familiar voice exclaim "Surprise!"

In tandem, everyone seemed to rise up at once, some more cautious than others as the exclamation of, "Surprise!" went up around the room. Hopefully, Nic would be pacified by the inflatable gators before punching anyone.

Nicodemus had never heard Erin so animated before. He followed behind her, heavily scrutinizing her moments, he listened. With her voice as loud as it was, he couldn't hear much over it. But something seemed off. What was that smell? Was it...gator? No way in fucking hell was it gator. Then, Skylar was shouting and he reflexively reached to grab a weapon. An inflatable gator. It popped and squeaked under his grip, whistling its way to a sad death. Wait, what had she said? He blinked. Squinted. Looked around. It wasn't just Skylar there. It was...a lot of people. More than he expected. She had said Happy Birthday. He looked over all of them and stood there. Like a dumbass. There were gators. Baby ones? Was that discount Steve Irwin? "...Howdy." Was all he could manage.

"Howdy, birthday boy!" Hunter said loudly as he pushed himself up (making dad grunts the entire way up). Seeing a lady next to Nic, Hunter grinned,"Who is this, bud? She's pretty," He said with a little wiggle of his eyebrows.

Skylar was startled when he grabbed an inflatable alligator, she flinched when it popped loudly, the sound making her hearing aids ring a bit. But, that was a lot better than him doing that to one of the people here! Walking up, she held out a pointy party hat and held it out to Nic. "I thought it'd be nice to have a little party for you-- Nell did a lot of the work, honestly. Happy Birthday!" She said, beaming.

Nell could handle the the casualty of one inflatable gator, seeing that as a success even as air continued to whine out of it. "Happy Birthday!" she echoed brightly stepping towards the man that this party was all about. "You're definitely old now." She waited somewhat anxiously, hoping to see some sign that he didn't completely hate the party Skylar and her had put together. "There's lots of food! And alcohol! And baby gators. Other animals, too."

Kaden shook his head as Nic killed the very dangerous inflatable gator. Better it than anyone else here. He'd go wish him a happy birthday later, he had plenty of people to talk to. And Kaden didn't really need to have another great run in with Erin just yet. He turned to Jeff and nodded. "How's it going?" His brow furrowed when it was clear the other guy couldn't talk. "You should get a dry erase board, man." He gave Alain a small wave as he saw him come in behind the birthday boy. "Want to go see the animals?" he asked the couple of hunters around him. He didn't really give a shit what they said, he was going to see those fucking baby gators before he left so help him.

Red could tell that there was a fae here, just not where. They tried to shake it off for the sake of Nic and the party, they didn't want to ruin it by causing a scene. At least there were animals here. Maybe he'd have to ask the bossy girl where she got these for Violet's next birthday. They bet that her birthday party would be the best if there were animals like this there. "You know what, yeah I do. Just let me grab a beer." They went grabbed their own beer and then moved over to the baby gators with Kaden. "Violet would have liked these," They said nodding to the small animals.

Orion couldn’t help but laugh when he heard the popping noise. Of course Nic stabbed the inflatable gator. But at least that was better than stabbing one of the party attendees. At least if he had stabbed a fellow hunter it would have healed pretty quickly. “That’s why I didn’t want to hide” Orion giggled, looking back at Blanche, “I didn't want to end up on the wrong side of his surprise.” Looking around, he recognized quite a few. It put him a little on edge, but the ones that he did recognize were alright, as far as hunters went. And was that… Erin with Nic? So his new boss knew Nic? Hmm, small town.

Nicodemus looked between Skylar and Nell. A party. He didn't remember ever having one before. The back of his neck felt warm. "It's nice," he finally said with a firm nod. "Just, uh, real fuckin' surprised." When had he started to know so many people? And they were all in his and Skylar's house. Holy fuck, he had a house and he had friends. Jumping Jesus Christ. He had even heard Alain sneaking up the door behind him. Nic offered Hunter a small but friendly smile. Right up until he blanched at the question. "Erin, that's her," he said quickly as he glanced over to the booze in the distance. Then to the baby gators. "Gonna get a drink there, bud. Enjoy yourself, huh?" Stepping carefully over Dundee, who looked just as perplexed as he did if not more so due to the lack of noticeable blinking, he power-walked to the watering station and cracked open a cold one as he turned around to survey the area. Goddamn, they had committed and committed hard.

“Wow,” was the only word that kept flashing in Erin’s mind when she saw the full scale of the party for the first time. They hadn’t been kidding even a little bit when they said there’d be gators. “Surprise?” Erin finally said when she turned to Nic, who seemed without a doubt surprised. “Holy crap, you guys. This is seriously amazing,” she smiled over at Skylar and Nell, stepping aside so the small crowd could fawn over him. As they should be, even if it was making him visibly uncomfortable. “That’s--yeah, that’s me. Erin. Nice to meet you…?” she chuckled at the older man who’d come up to greet them. Most of the faces she could pinpoint, some more of a surprise than others, but this was a new one to her. Wasted no time in plucking up one of the party hats and sat it squarely on her head. “Shut the front door--are those real gators?” She asked the second her eyes laid on them.

Hunter grinned at Erin. “Nice to meet ya, Miss. I’m Hunter. I meet Nic at a bar a while ago. He’s a real sweetheart, aint he?” He grinned wider, “I bet he’d make a great boyfriend. You know, if that interested you.”

Alain walked over to the pile of gifts to put down the box in which he had stuffed one crocodile plush, and a Laguiole knife with a handle that ressembled the skin of an alligator. This is when he heard someone speaking with Erin about Nic. Turning on his heels with the most neutral expression on his face, he raised his eyebrows at his friend and crossed his arms. "Well Erin, I think Hunter here might make a pretty good point."

Skylar beamed at the two of them, before nodding. "I'm glad that you like it! Have fun looking at the gators, I'm going to make sure Dundee doesn't poke his way over there." She said before walking off to find the little dog. It was huddled in a corner, a little overwhelmed by all the people who were in the home. Which was honestly fair, she kind of related. Reaching out gingerly to fix the dog's hood, she glanced up and saw Rio and Blanche, the two of them sporting matching pink hair. "Hi! I'm really glad you both could make it. Thanks so much for coming."

Nell beamed under Nic's simple, but approving words, and couldn't help but also enjoy Erin's. "Good, good. You deserve it," was all she managed to say. She was glad she had Skye had managed to pull this off. Nic needed good things in his life, and now this could be one of them. Sticking with the funeral director for a moment, she nodded, paying no mind to Alain. She didn't like the man, but she wouldn't start anything when she wanted this party to go perfectly. Turning to Erin she said with renewed excitement, "Yeah! Real gators! Reptile Rick brought along his brood. They're cute, aren't they?"

Orion smiled brightly when Skylar made her way over to say hi to them. He eagerly waved back and perked up. “Hey! Of course, thanks for the invite.” It had a good turnout, with quite a few people showing up for it. “You weren’t joking about this house. It’s ginormous.” He glanced at the crowd around Nic, talking to him and Erin. He would make his way over there eventually to say happy birthday, once things had calmed down. “You and Nell did really good. This party is really cool.”

Adam took a tray of vials from among the kegs. Some of the folks at the Bullet had responded to his blood drive, allowing for enough Slayer Blood for vampire poison. Liquid silver in pressured regulated contains for werewolves. A poison that'd disrupt the air regulation within aquatic creatures like Selkie, causing them to burst from the inside. There was very fine cold iron grains to poison the ventilation systems of Fae communes, Adam carefully set these and other vials of deadly alchemy with the other gifts before returning to the kegs to get drinks really started.

The only sound that came out of Erin’s mouth was a nervous laugh, eyes wide. “He’s--uh, he’s--yeah. He’s great.” She cleared her throat, glaring daggers at Alain through the smile forced onto her lips when he needlessly chirped in. “Helpful as always, aren’t you? Why don’t you go say hi to Nic, yeah?” she said, patting Alain’s back extra hard, thankful Nell was there. “They’re adorable!” she answered eagerly. “I’m gonna go see them like--now. I can’t wait. You totally understand, right?” Even if they didn’t, she was already shuffling away. “Excuse me!” She bounced off towards the refreshment table first for some of what she hoped was alcoholic “Gator”-ade. A little surprised at the crowd that had gathered around the baby animals, but she supposed not even a big group of guys like this could resist. “Is this the designating hiding spot?” She teased and watched them scurry around, taking large sips of the mysterious green drink.

Skylar laughed a little at Rio's statement, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. "Mhm, it's a really big place. I have no idea places like this even existed in White Crest, but I'm really lucky to have a place to stay." She said. "Thanks, it was mostly Nell. She really outdid herself. I like the hair, by the way. It looks really cool." She said with a thumbs up. With his pink hair, Rio almost looked like he'd stepped out of an anime or something. It honestly suited him-- and Blanche as well.

Lord, there were even presents. Cold beer in hand, Nicodemus grunted a greeting to those he passed by as he wandered over to the baby gators. He took a moment to raise his beer at Adam with a slight grin. Gingerly, Reptile Rick placed one in the palm of his hand, its small head resting on the hunter's wrist. Large reptilian eyes stared at him and he stared back. A true, blue genuine smile brightened his face for a hot second before he glanced over at the others. "They're, uh, real fuckin' gentle and shit," he said. Reptile Rick looked on in approval, the string of his fishing hat bobbing slightly. "...Thanks for comin', I 'spose. Didn't really know all this shit was happenin'."

Adam sees Rio being all pink with Blanche and Skylar and gives him a knowing wink and encouraging thumps up and highly evocative penetrative pantomime with his hands. Fellow Hunter dude thus no doubt encouraged and full of manly vitality, Adam return to drinks and watching Nic be Crocodile Dundee.

Nell nodded enthusiastically as Erin made her exit, not blaming her in the least for wanting to check out the little gators. She'd already spent some time with them before the party had started, and was letting everyone else get their fill, now. "I completely understand she offered with a chuckle before watching the other women head over. Adam's motion catching her eye, she wasted no time in heading his way to make herself a drink as well, glad that the party seemed to be going well enough. "You're going to make them match their pink hair," she said to the man with a little smirk, always amused by his antics.”

Alain forced a smile at Nell. It was not that he disliked her, but... Ok, it was exactly that, but it appeared that she had at last decided to be an adult. It would have been a shame if he ruined all her efforts. "Wait, Erin, you can't just..." He protested, and rather than sticking with Hunter, who would probably whine about his ex wife again, he followed after Erin to have a look at the baby alligators. If the question of how those things got here crossed his mind, he figured that the answer probably would be too shady for his liking. And... there was too much people here for his liking. Obviously. Who could blame them. Alright, then maybe he wouldn't bother Erin some more. Taking a deep breath, the hunter contemplated leaving. He had dropped the present, said Happy birthday. His job here was done, right? This was about then that he noticed Skylar on the other side of the room, with Orion, with... pink hair? Waving politely at them, he walked away from the alligator loving crowd to join them.

"Hey you know whatever gets that three-way rocking," Adam affirmed to Nell before drowning a drink like as if were a raindrop in a desert. "Maybe they like cotton-candy everywhere?" He blinked his way after the next drink slammed his brain. "So how do you know Bad Santa?"

Kaden was definitely not telling the baby alligator what a good boy it was in French when he realized Erin and Nic had joined them in the reptile corner. "Must be. Sorry, I said surprise once, that's all you get," he told Erin. "Happy birthday," he said as he watched the baby gator scuttle in Nic's hand. "I'd say you got a better theme than my party." It was nice, seeing a weirdly functioning just nice party for a hunter of all people in this hell hole town. Weird as hell, but nice.

"Thanks for inviting us, really. This place is great! I love Nic and he deserves a really good party," Blanche said brightly, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. She still couldn't believe the two of them dyed it pink. Wild. "And thanks. I think we mastered the art of impulsive twenty year old." If only it didn't end with the both of them killing something. She had caught Adam doing something out of the corner of her eye and made a face. "Anyway, I totally want to pet a gator and the dog at some point. Also, Skylar, you don't have an aversion to Little Debbie's Muffin's, do you?"

Nell snorted into her drink, not exactly discouraging Adam from his conception of the three-way. After all, what kind of best friend would she be if she didn't let Blanche get teased about sex? And she also wouldn't mind poking a small bit of good-natured fun at Skylar and Rio. In true mature fashion, she tucked her drink under her arm for a moment to bring her hands together in the shaped of a heart, capturing the three of them in the center of it. "I can smell it brewing now. If they don't serve cotton candy at the wedding...I'm not going." It took her a moment to figure out who Bad Santa might be, but it had to be the birthday boy...right? "Do you mean Nic? Because I'm here for that nickname, even without explanation."

Skylar nodded at Blanche, "For sure! He really does. I wanted to do something fun for him, you know? I feel like everyone could use a little fun right now." She said, not noticing the way her expression changed. She also didn't notice Adam's gesture, which was probably for the best. "Dundee should be around here somewhere-- I'm trying to keep him away from the baby gators. Hm? I mean... I'm allergic to gluten, so I'm kinda averse to most baked goods." She said with a little shrug before noticing that Alain had walked over. "Oh! Hi! Thanks for coming! I'm glad you were able to make it." Skylar said with a grin. "We've got games, there's plenty of beer, whiskey, and lots of food in the kitchen."

Adam sighed with a feigned dramatic wistfulness, "Well, Nic's Hunter powers activated when he was just a mall santa, down on his luck and scaring kids. But then vampires attacked some of the other Santas, and after a long investigation of Snow globes the kids watched in horror as Santa tore apart one of the elves, thus the Hunter known as Nicodemus was born." Adam nodded solemnly as before quaffing a drink.

Orion saw Adam wink at him and his cheeks immediately burst into flames. His face must be all sorts of shades of red at the moment, but he tried to ignore it and focus on the conversation instead. “Thanks! Blanche gets all the credit for the idea, but I’m surprised by how much I like the pink hair.” It was weird and fun and crazier than anything he had ever done, which was a welcome change. He waved at Alain and glanced over at the snacks and drinks that Skylar had mentioned, “Turns out, the Gatorade is in fact not gatorade and is alcoholic. I found out the hard way.” By that, he meant that he had taken a drink of it and immediately spit it back into the cup from the surprise. “But it tastes good.” Ish.

By now, Nell felt fairly adept at judging when Adam was going to launch into his ever-famous renditions of obviously very true and perfectly accurate stories, and a grin split over her lips as this one met her ears. "Please tell me there are pictures of this. I could put it on next year's cake. Does he still have the costume?" Against possibly all expectation, the thing that made her almost choke on her drink was the revelation of Nic's full name. She'd simply assumed it was...Nicholas or...something normal. "Nicodemus?? As in a wannabe Roman emperor?" She couldn't wait to hold that one over Nic's head.

Adam affirmed that he was sure Nic still had the costume, just in case it fell to him to defend Christmas from Dracula. "Was more goin for Pharisee from the Bible, or the leader of the Rats of Nim, but yup"

Alain smiled at the three of them, his eyes lingered on Blanche and Orion's hair color. "...That's... cheerful." He shook his head with amusement. Oh well, if it made them happy. "Did you name one of the alligators after Nick Dundee?" His eyebrows raised. Oh well, he knew people who had named their dog Orion. Looking in the direction of the drinks and food he grimaced. "Oh no, I'm fine I don't really drink alcohol anymore," apparently embarrassed, the hunter rubbed at the back of his head and shrugged. "Gatorade and taste good in the same sentence, I don't know," memories of a terrible night with Blanche and Nic was brought back to him and he laughed a little as he glanced at Blanche.

Erin didn’t know what he was saying, but Kaden was saying it soft enough that it seemed close enough to a ‘coo’ as a grown man could get. She didn’t interrupt, him or Nic as he held one and grinned like a kid. Just admired the way the baby gators had managed to melt the hearts of everyone almost instantly. She’d be lying if she wasn’t right there with them. “It’s gonna be a hard theme to beat, that’s for sure,” she nodded at Kaden. “I’ll leave you guys alone with your new friends,” she said with a grin, like she was in on their secret. A blast of pink was the first thing she spotted when she grabbed another drink. “Whoa. You’re going to wake the dead with that hair,” Erin smirked over at Rio. Boss-brain would’ve been scorning him right about now but she looked past it. It was a party and she was drinking green mystery juice. She didn’t have a lot of room to judge. After listening in a moment, she pointed towards Blanche mid-drink. “Wait, is this the infamous Blanche?”

Adam murmured to Nell, "Looks like word's gotten around about B.H."

Red took a few pictures of the animals to send to Artie, hoping their wife would show Violet. If they had known, maybe they would have brought the kid with them, but then again she was the perfect excuse to leave if Red needed a quick excuse. “Gotta day this birthday is a lot easier to handle than the last.”

Shaking her head, Nell quickly said, "I don't know what the hell a rat of Nimh is but— the Bible thing makes sense. I just feel like with a name like that, he could have definitely stabbed Caesar. She watched as Erin seemed to recognize Blanche, not exactly surprised. "What can we say she's a popular gal who with the hair of a a troll doll. Who wouldn't have heard about her? A very pretty troll doll."

Adam shook his head. "They make dolls of trolls? But they're too fucking hideous for kids. ...and Blanche is waaay hotter then a troll."

Skylar chewed the inside of her cheek when she realized that Alain didn't drink-- oh no. "Um, we also have water and soda in the fridge. And the food turned out great, I was out grilling earlier and the steak turned out really nice, if you ask me." She said hoping that the offering of non-alcoholic beverages and food would gloss over her little misstep there. Tilting her head, at the Dundee comment, she blinked. "Oh, no. Dundee is the name of Nic's dog. There he is right now." She said, pointing to the little chihuahua who had plonked down onto the couch and had curled up into a little ball for a nap.

Blanche almost snorted when Alain complained about the gatorade, biting back a comment about how if he didn't want to drink gatorade maybe he shouldn't have gotten so drunk that she and Nic had to baby him. "I'll take some of the jungle juice. Or beer." She said brightly. She was just about to go get some when someone pointed her out. WHat - "Infamous - wait. Oh! Erin!" Blanche recognized her from Regan's facetime. "Hey! You act like I'm a walking tornado." Blanche thought for a second and them sheepishly shrugged. ".... You got me."

Nell wasn't entirely surprised that Adam hadn't heard of troll dolls. Most likely his toys growing up had all been outfitted with flamethrowers or something. The only flamethrowers she'd had growing up were her sisters. "No it's like- they're little pudgy baby dolls with funny colored hair. Blanche is definitely hotter than either though. Can confirm that." Nell took the opportunity to wave over at the other pink-haired person...Rio. "Hey! What'd you guys use to dye your hair anyway?"

Adam nodded, "Heya guys, digging the K-pop look."

Orion picked up on Blanche’s name and laughed when he heard what Adam and Nell said. “This just in, Blanche is hotter than a troll” Rio leaned close to Blanche and repeated, smiling as he said it. It was nice hearing with Blanche knowing about him being a hunter. He didn’t have to shy away from explaining his super hearing to her. But he immediately slunk away when he realized that Nell and Adam were joining the group. His boss and now Adam too? Oh boy. “I uh- we uh- I” Rio stammered, trying to form a coherent sentence, “Hey there.” He settled on, greeting his boss and Nell and Adam that had joined the group. “Uh thank you! I don’t know actually, Blanche bought the dye.”

Alain scratched at his cheek. The last thing he wanted was to make Skylar uncomfortable over something she couldn't have known. "Hey, it's fine. It's okay. I look forward to that," he reassured her, carefully patting her shoulder. Glancing over his shoulder to have a look at the dog, he froze when he realized what it was she was referring to. He wrinkled his nose and searched for Nic in the crowd. What the fuck kind of dog was that ? "Well now I have something to roast him about. Thanks Skylar, I will be right back." You bet that he was now making his way to birthday boy. "You didn't tell me you had a ..." Rat? "Dog."

Nicodemus parted from the gators, as hard as it was, and started to head toward the pool. How the hell they got the ambiance going the way it did, he didn't understand. He looked over at Alain and raised a brow. Looked at Dundee who didn't seem at all bothered. "Yeah, came with the fuckin' apartment. Believe that shit," he said, a lot less bothered by it than he had been a week ago. "Wouldn't leave, so fuck it, why not, right?" The last conversation he had with Alain hadn't been pleasant. What he asked hadn't been pleasant, but still, Alain showed. "Thanks for comin'. You knew about this?"

Blanche had definitely been blonde the last time Erin had seen her--brief as it was--but here she was. In the flesh. “No! You’re just--you’re here. I wasn’t sure this day was going to come,” Erin laughed, recalling their almost exclusive online interactions. It suddenly dawned on Erin she was surrounded by almost all of the youths of the crowd, especially when Nell and the other younger kid joined. This felt weird. Time to retreat. She nodded at Rio, “Hair looks good,” she said simply. Nodding at Blanche again as she backpedaled. “Glad to finally meet you, too,” she smiled, then turned to go back and adore the baby gators again with what seemed like the rest of the older party attendees.

Noticing Rio's stammering, Skylar blinked in confusion as the other three approached. Why was he so nervous about them? Was it because the awful bandana? In that case, she couldn't really blame him, it was pretty bad. But, the guy who walked up didn't seem all that strange. With a smile, she waved at him. "I'm Skylar, by the way. Nic's roommate. Nice to meet you." She said. There was quite a bit of conversation going on, so she didn't totally register Alain's words, but the small pat on her shoulder caught her attention. "Oh, bye!" She said with a nod in his direction, and offering a wave when Erin also turned away. People coming and going, all the talking... parties were exhausting.

Adam gave Skylar a once over, and then another look over, neither of which were granted any subtly by the drinks in his system. "I'm Adam, looking good, Skylar," he said walking up. "Heya Oreo, how’s it hanging?"

Skylar didn't like the way that Adam looked at her, nope, nope, no. With a slightly panicked smile, she tilted her head towards the pool of baby alligators. "Mhm... I need to go." She said, adding quickly, "Check on the alligators. Yup. They... need to be watched." They were just little alligators, they wouldn't eat her, right? Walking quickly away, she let out a sigh. All things considered, that had gone well. And Nic seemed like he liked it too, which was all that mattered in her book.

Nicodemus's ears weren't ringing from wolf howls or vampire screaming or some other kinda nonsense. No, it was just people talking. Enjoying themselves. It wasn't...terrible and that was a terrifying thought on its own. There'd be time for the rest of the shit later, unless it came sooner. Town like White Crest, it just might. Being the center of attention was the last thing he wanted but he swallowed it down to try and find a decent place to stand. Idling picking at the soggy label on his beer, he cleared his throat some. A banjo played quietly in the background and he shook his head with a snort. "Uh, thanks for comin'...and shit," he started as he looked around the room. All relatively new faces in his life, but now, familiar. Like Dundee, that didn’t seem to bother him as much anymore. His brow furrowed some. "...Appreciate it. It's, uh--Yeah. Stay as long as you want or at least 'till Dundee or Skye kicks your ass out." A dry laugh sneaked out of him. He glanced at the cutout of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. They glanced back. The shooting gallery lay beyond. He raised his beer and headed over. “Meanwhile, my ass'll be out on the open range.”

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 9

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Spinster(s) (Once Upon a Time: Think Lovely Thoughts), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Colette (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Dove (Once Upon a Time), Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena

Additional Tags: Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Violence, Gun Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, UST, First Time, Drama & Romance, Kidnapping, Extortion

Summary: Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go.  Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into 'protective custody,' but is he all that he seems?  As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth.

Read Previous chapters on AO3

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]  [Chapter 5]  [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]  [Chapter 8]

Chapter 9 - On Whose Side

Even with his feet firmly on the ground, Jefferson felt less than confident. They still had a long way to go, and a light flickering on inside the house made his appeal to Belle all the more urgent. He supposed he should thank their good luck that at least the grounds at the rear of the house appeared empty, though he was under no illusion that appearances could be more than deceptive. However, ensured of their safety, at least for a few moments more, he turned his attention back to the diminutive young woman he was trying to save.

“Lower yourself down,” he instructed, his voice barely above an urgent hiss. “Wrap your arms and legs around the supporting post and slide down to me.” He saw the fear in her even before she spoke and added,  “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

“I… I can’t,” she stammered, but he shook his head, becoming aware that he’d been counting in his head, anticipating the moment when whomever it was had turned on the light inside the house would reach them.

“You have to. You’ve done the hardest part. This bit is easy.”

She shook her head again, and he pressed his lips into a flat line, controlling his increasing worry, and as encouragingly as he could, coaxed,, “All you have to do is slip over the edge and find the post with your legs first, then your arms once you have lowered yourself. You can do this.”

He saw the moment that she grabbed her resolve, and moved to position himself by the post where he would be best able to fulfill his promise to catch her, mindful, of course, of her injured hands.

“That’s it,” he crooned as she began to hang off the side of the awning by her elbows. “Just a little further.”

With almost a whimper, she practically dropped onto the pole, and he moved to catch her, thinking she would miss and fall, but somehow she managed to slam into the support and wrap her arms and legs around it so tightly that she didn’t move at all lower from the spot to which she had propelled herself.

“Ease up,” he murmured to her, not quite able to reach. “Let yourself slide lower. I’ve got you, I promise.”

Lips still pursed, he watched as, inch by inch, she slipped closer to the ground; closer to his reach. As soon as he was able he put a hand to her back, as much to assure her of his presence as anything else, and after only a few more, agonizingly slow, downward inches, she twisted her body as she let go with her arms, launching herself at him.

Anyone with lesser reflexes would have been toppled by the way she suddenly slammed into his chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck and shoulders, but some part of Jefferson had half expected such a thing. He sensed she was nearing the edge of what she could take in one night, and they still had to get out of the compound. He wrapped his arms around her back and for a moment held her tightly, reassuring, “You did good… great.”

Then, he lowered her to the ground and gently prized her grasp from him, though he kept contact with her.

She surprised him, asking in a shaky voice, “What now?”

“Now we get the hell out of here,” he told her, shooting her as boyish of a grin as he could muster under the circumstances. Then he pointed to the trees that lined the open expanse of the grounds. “We cross to the shadows of those trees, and follow to the wall. Stay low, and stay by me.”

She nodded and moved slightly closer as he hooked one arm through hers, and he saw her cringe as he pulled the gun from where he’d holstered it.

“Just in case,” he pledged, hoping he wasn’t making an empty promise.  “Ready?”

As she nodded, he let go of her arm and slipped his own across her back to guide her as they crossed the back lawn. He tried to shorten his strides and still maintain a good speed, especially when they crossed the less shadowed patch of grass where light from the upstairs windows spilled out into the night. They reached the shelter of the trees without incident, and though he breathed a sigh of relief, he knew they had to keep moving. It wouldn’t take long for the two men who had been shooting at them to find their way down - unless of course they’d run into trouble on the way. The thought should have brought him some measure of comfort, but with the way everything had gone down since he learned of the takedown, he had little faith in gaining help from the authorities.

He led Belle deeper into the darkness beneath the trees, heading for where he knew the house was surrounded by high walls, but where he also knew there was an electronic gate for which - as a member of this ‘criminal elite’ - he had a key.

“Let’s hope they haven’t cut the power,” he muttered under his breath.

Belle turned to frown at him. “To what?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’s all right,” he said. “Not far to go now.”

He could tell she was tiring fast, and after everything she’d been through that evening he was surprised that she wasn’t an utter wreck. He thought she was probably running on adrenaline, and that once she came down from that, then there would be problems. He had to get her somewhere safe, and fast.

The thought made him look down at his phone as he pulled it from his pocket and flicked to the secure email account. Damn it, Gold! he thought vehemently as his message went unanswered. Fine then, he answered himself. We’ll just have to do this the hard way.

**

Jefferson’s luck held as far as the gate was concerned, but not so much with what lay beyond. He heard the voices even as he pressed the fob against the gate sensor and winced as the whir and click seemed inordinately loud in the surrounding hush. He tugged the gate free, and wedged a nearby stone between the gate and the post to keep it from closing fully as he turned to Belle and tucked her into the dip made between the brick gatepost and the wall.

“Stay here,” he told her urgently. “Stay quiet… I’m not sure which side those guys out there are on, so…” he frowned to himself as he tugged a second gun out of a pocket and pulled back the slide.  He had no clue whether Belle had even handled a weapon before, or whether she’d be able to use it with her hands in their current state, but he wasn’t about to leave her defenseless while he dealt with whatever awaited them outside. “...if anyone other than me comes through that gate… don’t wait, just squeeze the trigger.”

He handed the gun down to her, flicking off the safety as he did, and watched as she looked at it with near revulsion, but she nodded, and cradled it between her trembling hands.

“I’ll be back,” he told her softly, and nodding added, “You’re doing great, Belle.” Then, without another word, he turned, pulled open the gate and slipped through.

The narrow street beyond was poorly lit, but he wasn’t about to let that lull him into a false sense of security, though it did offer him a measure of protection as he took in the scene. There were two men, both wearing vests that identified them as FBI, which was promising, but didn’t actually mean anything worth Jack as far as he was concerned. The FBI were supposed to have had his back; supposed to have given him a thirty minute heads up on the takedown, and it hadn’t happened, so he could only assume that there were two separate factions within the Bureau.

The question was, on whose side were these two agents?

Moving carefully so that he stayed in the shadows, and could circle the car, parked barely six strides away, to approach the men as if he’d come around from another direction entirely, Jefferson took a deep breath and then straightening up, put a jaunty spring in his step as he moved to deliberately catch their attention, keeping the hood of the car between himself and the others.

It wasn’t long before one of them spotted him, and flashed - far too quickly to be seen in the darkness - an open wallet in his direction.

“Move on,” he instructed, gesturing behind him with a thumb to indicate further along the street. “This is none of your concern.”

“You know what the issue is with this world?” Jefferson said, as though answering the agent’s instruction, though the words were the first half of an identification protocol that he and Rab had agreed upon.

“Are you deaf?” the agent answered, “I said move on!”

Jefferson sighed, then muttered under his breath, “Well then, I guess that answers that question.” Then more clearly and with another sigh. “Sorry, fellas… no can d—”

Before he could even finish his insincere apology, one of the two agents rushed at him across the front of the car, but Jefferson was ready for him, and caught his arm as he got close, using the man’s forward momentum to launch him toward a garage wall on the opposite side of the street.  He heard the rush of air burst from the man’s lungs as he hit hard, but Jefferson didn’t wait to see if he were winded enough to stay put. Instead, with a half roll, half slide, he propelled himself across the hood of the car toward the man’s partner, lashing out with a foot as the second agent’s arm began to rise, no doubt holding a weapon.

The kick brought a hiss of pain from the man, and the satisfying clatter of a weapon landing some way in the distance. He didn’t wait, however, for his adversary to recover, but slid off the hood of the Taurus, getting his feet under him to rush the man before he could fully recover.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other agent gather himself and begin moving away from the wall to head in his direction, even as he ducked a wild swing from the man in front of him. He saw a dark shape in the hands of the first of his assailants, a weapon… a gun? Swearing softly at the necessity of using his nearby opponent as protection, and counting on the man’s vest or his partners fast reflexes, to save the agent from lasting harm, Jefferson grabbed at the mans arm as he took another wild swing, catching it by the wrist, twisting it around behind, as he moved to use the man as a shield.

He heard the too familiar crack of the leads as they were propelled from the tazer, and managed to push the man away from himself and into the trajectory of the leads. He winced as the agent jerked like a man with Saint Vitus’ dance before he toppled to the ground.

“Oops,” he offered, with an almost apologetic shrug before rushing the agent that had just disabled his partner by accident.

The fight was brief; fast and dirty, he didn’t have time for finesse. The downed agent wouldn’t stay down for long and he had to take them both out. He drove his shoulder into the man’s partner, into his stomach and used the force of his rush to carry him back against the wall again, knocking the wind from the agent before straightening up to press his forearm across the the man’s throat and hold him in place as his struggles weakened.  At first Jefferson had to endure a few painful but ineffectual punches, and even to twist aside against a knee raised toward his groin, but as consciousness began to elude the man he held in place the attempts grew less frequent, until the agent finally became a heavy weight as he slumped against Jefferson.

“See…” he said as he pulled both men to sit at the base of the wall, and after searching the pockets of the unconscious agent for the car keys, found some zip ties which he fastened around their wrists even though he hated those thing. “…that issue I was talking about…?” he went on, answering his own question. “Everyone wants an easy solution to their problems, and everyone refuses to make things easy.” The men groaned almost simultaneously beginning to wake. “Tell that to Rab when you next see him, and tell him also that this is where I disappear.”

[haphazardlyparked]

a point of contention

regret everything part twenty-one (part twenty)

Noki begins coming back later and later at night, and his absences correlate directly to the impending deadlines for Congress proposals. Noki comes to bed when Kan’s already asleep, and by the time Kan wakes up in the morning, he’s already up and about. Kan spends a lot of his brand-new alone time thinking about the Exchange, and how he can best dismantle the group without mortally offending Noki.

The Exchange is becoming far too involved with different Samra-related pots to continue operating within Kan’s government. That Kan must force a choice on them is already apparent, though Kan doesn’t care what Noki chooses to do so long as his interests are clear, and his position is appropriate for those interests. Pure diplomacy hasn’t been Noki’s focus for a while now.

Kan decides he’ll start the process after Congress. Things will be calmer then... and Noki might be more persuadable.

“If you want my advice, Noki,” Kan drawls, passing the data screen with the Exchange’s draft proposal back to his lover. “You need to look at our side more closely again. You’re starting to sound like an agent of Samra, and not like a group dedicated towards Tasak’s successful future.”

He tries to couch it in a jest, but Kan hopes Noki sees his genuine concern. The Exchange has become very… bold recently, more so than Kan could have anticipated. Their proposal—to create an organization dedicated towards analyzing viable structures for bilateral trades between Samra and Tasak, as well as research on such an alliance’s potential benefits (and costs, Kan supposes)—is a good idea in theory, but their highlighted topics and outlined priorities heavily favor Samran scholars, and what Samra has to offer, and what Samra should be allowed to do or not do.

What about what Tasak has to offer? They may not have Samra’s sophisticated organic technologies, but their work with digital and mechanical construction has built wonders in their city. And Tasak has seated herself at the center of a grand alliance between multiple states, a trading coalition unlike any seen before it. There’s nothing in the Exchange’s proposal about how the alliance’s farmers and tradesmen and engineers will be protected from the adverse effects of Samran influence, let alone how this new relationship might change Tasak’s relations with her historical allies.

Noki cuts Kan an annoyed look. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Not,” says Kan glibly. “It would be highly inappropriate if I did.”

The scowl on Noki’s face scrunches his nose. In an energetic attempt to derail the conversation, Kan leans sideways to kiss it; Noki evades him.

“I’m serious, Kan. This is important!”

“And I’m serious too, Noki,” Kan replies, exasperated. “I just gave you my opinion. You know I won't take risks for my people that Samra will benefit from, and which we might or might not.”

“I've already explained--”

“I know,” Kan says, trying to sound patient. “I know how you think these supposed provisional allowances will function, but you must recognize how narrow your plan’s vision is. The Exchange is going to keep heading down this road. You know this, don't you?”

“Excuse me?” Noki asks, surprised into sharp politeness.

Kan huffs. “You’re hardly one of my diplomats these days. Changing careers can be a good thing,” Kan adds quickly. “But you must see the beginnings of the need to change, right?”

Wrong, clearly. Noki’s expression shutters to blankness. “Is what the Dowager has been saying?” he asks.

“She doesn't have anything to do with this.”

“Kan.”

Kan sighs. “She agrees with me, but that doesn't make me wrong, Noki. You're not exactly objective. And you do this thing, where you try to be the organization you want to gain permission for, only before you have the permission. The Exchange is an example of this, I think.”

Noki recoils, stung. In an effort to distract them, or to give himself a minute to think, he gets up from the sofa and goes to get a drink. While he’s gone, Kan wonders how he can get out of the rest of this conversation.

“How can you say I don't want the best for Tasak?” Noki asks when he comes back. Instead his spot by Kan, he sits on the chair beside the couch.

Kan frowns. “That's not what I’m saying,” he objects. “All I mean is that, as a diplomat in my court, you should be more objective when it comes to Samra. Understanding them and understanding where and how we can open dialogues and relations is important, but in the end, you're Tasakese, Noki.”

“I never said I wasn’t!” Noki protests hotly, sitting ramrod straight now. His eyes blaze with righteous anger, and Kan shakes his head.

“You speak with a whole host of Samran contacts every day,” Kan reminds him.

“Just as I spoke to Isokai every day too.”

“That was--is--different. He's the ambassador, and you're his Tasakese liaison here. Under what auspices are you carrying on your communications with various members of Samra’s Conclave and private strategic organizations? Would the Exchange even provide me a list of them, if I asked?”

Noki gasps. “Have you been spying on me?” he demands, using his outrage to avoid the question.

But Kan avoids his question in turn, because while he himself isn't doing the espionage, Sem and the Dowager do present him dossiers of information on the Exchange.

“In this matter, Noki, I am your lord,” he replies calmly, but with an uneasy weight in his chest that drags his voice down half an octave. “I can support your passion as your lover, but I cannot always condone your actions as your liege. You should know this.”

Noki sighs, and leans back in the chair. “I understand,” he mutters.

But Kan doesn’t know that he does.

A few nights later, Kan finds a familiar-looking ring sitting in an open box on his pillow. It’s made of a dull metal, with a white band circling its center, and he knows immediately that it is a strand of Noki’s dyed hair set into the band.

“I don’t want to fight with you over this—thing,” Noki says, coming into the bedroom from the bathroom. His voice is heavy, on the verge of cracking. “I love you, Kan.”

Smiling, Kan picks up the ring and box and sets it on the bedside table. Holding out his arms, he beckons Noki closer until they’re standing next to the bed. Then he hugs Noki so tightly, he can’t escape when Kan lowers his mouth to Noki’s ear and taunts, “One apology to one. What does that mean, in Samra?”

“I suppose,” says Noki quietly, shivering in an effort to fight his ticklishness. Kan loosens his hold so that he can poke at Noki’s sides. “It means that neither of us--is perfect!” The last comes out as a squeal, and Noki pushes at Kan lightly. When Kan loses his grip on Noki, he escapes backwards onto the bed. 

Kan follows him, and Noki pulls him down beside him. “I love you, Kan,” he whispers seriously, his hand running down Kan’s side and back up. Kan suppresses a shiver, and shifts in closer to Noki. 

“I love you too, my brilliant heart,” he murmurs back. 

Kan leaps out of bed and to his feet at the sound of doors slamming open.

“Lord Kan!” he hears someone shout his name. “Kan!”

He’s awake enough to realize that very few people can come into his and Noki’s home without triggering all manners of alarms, and then he recognizes Sem’s shouting.

Dread bores a hole into Kan’s stomach. He runs towards the front door, and meets Sem in the hallway.

“Kan!” Sem repeats, breathless, more a sob than Kan’s name. He’s red-eyed and he grasps for Kan’s arm, gasping, unable to say the words that he needs to.

Kan holds Sem upright and closes his eyes and wishes that Sem never finds a way to tell him. He might even take this moment, Sem in pieces and clinging to him, for eternity, just as long as—

“The Dowager,” Sem gasps. “The Dowager—Kan”—another sob wrenches free of Sem before he can continue, voice trembling—“I’m sorry, Kan. She’s gone.”

“What?” Noki gasps from the bedroom door. He looks as white as his nightshirt.

(next - twenty-two)

im afraid to tag people but  @gingerly-writing  @severe-fangirl-syndrome @rrrawrf-writes

[gpnationalcrane]

7 Ways Your Construction Project Can Go South | ALICE Technologies

This article is brought to you by ALICE Technologies

Construction project delays are both frustrating and costly - but they’re also incredibly common. So common, in fact, that GCs no longer ask if a project will veer off-schedule or off-budget,  they ask by how much?

The bigger the project, the harder the fall.

Large-scale construction and infrastructure projects involve complex scheduling, with many interdependent tasks and moving parts. The larger and more complex the project, the higher the risk of construction delays and mishaps.

In fact, a project that exceeds its timeline or budget is more common than a project that achieves it. When a recent study by McKinsey looked at the construction of assets across all categories, they determined that large projects (regardless of class) typically take 20% longer to complete than originally estimated - and often run as much as 80% over budget.

As you can imagine, this holds significant financial implications for GCs and developers. Returns on large construction projects, in particular, can be unpredictable - and often quite low for the time and effort invested.

Savvy GCs do their best to factor in common challenges before they arise, in order to mitigate the impact of construction delays on their bottom line. The most common culprits they anticipate are these:

Faulty scheduling.

The most common (and most impactful) pitfall for large-scale construction is an unrealistic timeline. When scheduling is misaligned or constricted from the start, delays will snowball throughout the entire timeline to completion - throwing your project completely off track. In the past, project scheduling relied mostly on manual insight and calculations, which could take months of collaborative effort to complete, or adjust - but today’s GC’s can leverage more advanced digital tools to dynamically tune their construction schedules.

Budget failures.

While an accurate bid goes a long way towards maintaining a budget, a wise man once said “an estimate is only valid at the moment it is written”. The time elapsed between project conception and final completion poses a huge challenge when it comes to maintaining a budget. And while individual factors (such as rising material costs) may be impossible to predict, maintaining timely and accurate digital records can help GCs catch creeping costs before they skyrocket out of control - and adjust or amend their plan of action, accordingly.

Design challenges.

From improperly placed elements to poor material choices, some design failures are virtually undetectable until midway through construction - at which point, they become glaringly obvious. While a skilled GC may catch many potential mishaps during the preconstruction phase, the ability to adjust on the fly to what isn’t working can make or break a project.

Labor shortages.

The post-recession decline saw skilled workers leaving construction for other industries. Since then, the number of new laborers entering the construction sector has continued to fall, steadily dropping throughout recent years, as young workers shift their attention to digital trades. Worker shortages mean every crew must be scheduled precisely, in order to maintain optimal flow towards completion - which is why intelligent GCs leverage cutting-edge technology to analyze and maximize crew utilization.

Bottlenecks.

Whether it’s a stalled financial approval, site challenge, or delay in permitting, there comes a moment in the lifespan of every construction project in which a bottleneck occurs. Whatever the cause, a wrench is thrown into the works, and everything seems to come to a hard stop. When a single point of failure brings work to a standstill, waiting it out means losing precious time and resources. Historically, a bottleneck scenario might derail an entire project for weeks, or even months - but recent technological advances (such as the use of AI-driven tools) can help GCs address this type of challenge, revealing unconventional workarounds, methods, and routes of progress which enable even a stalled project to move forward.

Catastrophe or Crisis.

Natural disasters, inclement weather, and other unforeseen circumstances (such as those caused by recent government shutdowns, or the global pandemic) can cause massive disruptions to construction scheduling and completion. On large-scale projects with extended construction times, exposure to environmental delays triggered by climate change have drastically increased. Projects located in developing countries may also be vulnerable to risks posed by economic or political instability. Whatever the cause, when extenuating circumstances occur, the ability to adjust on a moment’s notice is crucial to limiting negative impact on constructability.

Supply chain failure.

Material and equipment shortages can create major roadblocks to project completion. If a manufacturer or supplier fails to deliver as expected, or (worst-case scenario) stops producing an essential component, tracking down alternate resources can pose quite a challenge. Even when alternative options are readily available, the reconfiguration required to adjust to changes in timing and cost can be massively time-consuming - and expensive. Today’s more advanced GCs are leveraging digital tools that can assist in this type of scenario, tuning assumptions about what inputs will be available so that construction continues as quickly as possible.

Every construction project is unique in nature, introducing its own unique set of uncertainties and hurdles. In a world where experts consider time and cost overruns to be a “feature” of construction, the ability to anticipate issues and address them efficiently when they arise is essential.

That’s why we built ALICE Technologies - an AI-driven solution that helps GCs successfully overcome all of the challenges described above. While many digital tools can be helpful in addressing separate aspects of scheduling or constructability, ALICE is the only solution capable of analyzing changes dynamically, as they occur - assessing thousands of potential options to propose the ideal scenario for your situation. Our goal is to help GCs and developers jump the hurdles that stand in the way of project completion - and get back to building a better future.

source https://www.constructionjunkie.com/blog/2021/8/23/7-ways-your-construction-project-can-go-south-alice-technologies from G P NATIONAL CRANES LTD https://gpnationalcrane.blogspot.com/2021/08/7-ways-your-construction-project-can-go.html

[boricuamermaid]

marisa & rj’s rom recs / winter edition

a few months ago marisa @liambaeyne and i started a little, two-person book club of sorts. we started reading the same books--the majority, if not all, featuring women of color as the main characters--and talking about them via literally any outlet we could find (texts, tumblr posts, messages). we went back and forth giving each other recommendations and opening each other up to new sub-genres within the romance genre. basically, this little book club has been one of the best things about this year and we wanted to share that happiness with y’all.

content warning: most of these books are pretty steamy and contain explicit sex scenes.

legend

C - contemporary romance

H - historical romance

YA - young adult

Italics - Rj’s favorites

Bold - Marisa’s favorites

Both - both of our favorites

Books Marisa & I Have/Are Reading

Insert Groom Here by K.M. Jackson - C; a scandal triggers a Bachelorette-esque reality tv show

To Me I Wed by K.M. Jackson - C; event planner and restaurant owner try to keep things light as she makes plans to marry herself, but things keep getting more and more intense

The Betting Vow by K.M. Jackson - C; a model-turned-actress wants to be taken seriously, a tv producer just wants the model-turned-actress

Love On My Mind by Tracey Livesay - C; ceo of a tech company, pr executive, and a lie on a mountaintop

Along Came Love by Tracey Livesay - C; pregnancy, jail, and what happens when someone has a family for the first time

Love Will Always Remember by Tracey Livesay - C; two brothers, amnesia, and more secrets than they know what to do with

Take the Lead by Alexis Daria - C; an alaskan survivalist and a city girl get paired up for a dance competition

Acting On Impulse by Mia Sosa - C; personal trainer trying to forget her high profile ex and an actor trying to avoid detection in aruba

Forbidden by Beverly Jenkins - H; Set during the Reconstruction Era. Eddy Carmichael sets off on an adventure to start her own restaurant in California, but the adventure is temporarily derailed in the middle of the Nevada desert when her life is saved by Rhine Fontaine, a successful man living his life passing for White. As a connection builds between them, the racial divide implied by the different colors of their skin and the life Rhine’s built for himself become threatened...and both must decide if the reward is worth the risk.

Breathless by Beverly Jenkins - H; RJ has gotten me into historical romances now and Beverly Jenkins knows where it’s at. Breathless follows the eldest niece of Eddy and Rhine from Forbidden, Portia Carmichael, a determined bookkeeper who is avoiding suitors like her life depends on it because her entrepreneur dreams leave her with no plans to marry. But suddenly, her life becomes reacquainted with an old friend of Rhine’s, former bartender/medical-student-turned-cowboy, Kenton Randolph, and well...the best laid plans...

Talk Sweetly to Me by Courtney Milan - H; shy mathematician meets scandal waiting to happen

Rj’s Read and Rec

An Extraordinary Union by Alyssa Cole - H; Civil War, spies, and forbidden love

Agnes Moor’s Wild Knight by Alyssa Cole - H; 1490s, tournament where the prize is a kiss

Daughters of a Nation: A Black Suffragette Historical Romance Anthology by Lena Hart, Piper Huguley, Kianna Alexander, and Alyssa Cole - H; four very different stories set between 1861 and 1917; long-lost loves, strikes, carpenters, and cabarets

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before series by Jenny Han - YA; a sixteen-year-old writes love letters that she never expected anyone to send

The Weight of Feathers by Anne-Marie McLemore - YA; rival families, mermaids, birds in the queen of ya magical realism’s first book with the most beautiful prose i’ve ever read

Rj’s TBR

Dance With Me by Alexis Daria - C; book two in the Dance Off series

Hamilton’s Battalion by Rose Lerner, Courtney Milan, and Alyssa Cole - H

A Summer for Scandal by Lydia San Andres - H

When the Moon Was Ours by Anne-Marie McLemore - YA

Rj’s Preorders

A Princess in Theory by Alyssa Cole - C; “...the tale of a city Cinderella and her Prince Charming in disguise.” #sold

A Hope Divided by Alyssa Cole - H; book two in her Loyal League series

Books 4, 5, 6, and 8 of The Worth Saga by Courtney Milan - H; even though they’re not up for preorder yet but because I know myself: they’re regency romances with woc leads and i love Courtney’s books (obv)

Tempest by Beverly Jenkins - H; the third book in Rhine’s series

Pretending He’s Mine by Mia Sosa - C; the second book in Mia’s Love on Cue series. I just saw Marisa said there’s “faked masturbation for reconnaissance” + the fake dating and i, too, am sold.

Marisa’s Read and Rec

Hate to Want You by Alisha Rai - C; Childhood lovers Nicholas Chandler and Livvy Kane, who carry on a once-a-year affair until the one year they don’t, are reunited when she unexpectedly returns to town. Throw in unresolved feelings, business affairs, and a colorful history that’s driven two families apart and you’ve got the beginning of an intriguing three-book series (the ‘Forbidden Hearts’ series). What I found myself most mesmerized with was the history between the Kane and Chandler families and there are still so many questions I have that I can’t wait to have answered in the two following novels.

Wrong to Need You by Alisha Rai - C; In the second book in Alisha Rai’s ‘Forbidden Hearts’ series, Jackson Kane, Livvy’s twin brother, returns to town after spending years running from the shadows of his past. It’s a quick trip, just to look in on Livvy—or so he tells himself, in denial of another reason worth returning: Sadia Ahmed, his childhood best friend, whose emails to him have gone unanswered for years. Sadia, who he’s been in love with since they were teenagers...who is also his brother Paul’s widow. Sadia, a single mother now, struggles to keep the café that’s been in the Kane family for decades afloat, and when Jackson returns unexpectedly and offers to help after the departure of her cook, Sadia is reluctant to agree. But with her hands full juggling two jobs and her son, Kareem, she needs the help, and despite the hurt and anger she feels, she needs Jackson more than she’s ready to admit. The second novel in this series is my favorite thus far—we dive deeper into the secrets bottled up between the Chandlers and the Kanes, and passion builds through the recount of history and reconnection between two friends who probably always should’ve been more. The history between the Kanes and the Chandlers remains as intriguing as ever even after this second novel, and I can’t wait for the final book in the series!

Vivid by Beverly Jenkins - H; Nate Grayson’s life is thrown off-course when the new doctor coming to set up practice in his little Michigan town, Dr. V. Lancaster, whom he assumes to be a man, turns out to be Dr. Viveca Lancaster—a woman. This book was so! good! Start to finish, a solid read with really great characters. Viveca—Vivid, to her family—had me rooting for her from the very start. Spirited and challenging and unwilling to bend to the ignorance of men who think only men should be doctors (Nate Grayson included), Vivid keeps Nate and the folks of Grayson Grove on their toes as she works to prove herself as a doctor...and comes to share more with Nate Grayson that either of them anticipates.

Jewel by Beverly Jenkins - H; We return to Grayson Grove, this time the focus on Eli Grayson, Nate’s cousin. Eli, a man of the news, finds himself with the great opportunity to get his newspaper up and running again, only there’s a small caveat—the man offering him the chance only sinks his faith into men who are married. Eli, unmarried and a known lothario (“The Colored Casanova of Cass County,” he’s been called) with a past he’s not necessarily proud of, thinks quick on his feet and asks a favor of Jewel Crowley—to pose as his wife! Add a fake marriage (or is it fake?) and throw in some mystery and murder as an old and unwanted face blows back into town, and you’ve got a novel I couldn’t help but breeze through.

Marisa’s TBR

Between a Rock and a Hot Mess by Phyllis Bourne - C

Dance With Me by Alexis Daria - C; the second in the Dance Off series. RJ and I both read the first book in this series and LOVED it, so I immediately preordered the second after finishing the first (and if I recall, she messaged me saying she basically did the same thing).

Marisa’s Preorders

Hurts to Love You by Alisha Rai - C; the third book in the Forbidden Hearts series

Pretending He’s Mine by Mia Sosa - C; the second book in Mia’s Love on Cue series. I read the preview as well as the book description and there’s fake dating and faked masturbation for reconnaissance involved, and I was sold.

Tempest by Beverly Jenkins - H; the third book in Rhine’s series

[hestiahomeservice]

5 Tips To Make Your Home Remodel Less Stressful

If you’re like many homeowners, you are under the impression that home remodeling San Antonio is a breeze. Unfortunately, once you undertake a renovation of your own, you will soon discover that the change you’ve been so looking forward to comes at a very high price. That price, more often than not, is your mental health.

Though you should certainly not give up on achieving the home of your dreams because the process of getting there can cause stress, you should anticipate it and, where possible, take steps to mitigate it. Some stress triggers are foreseeable, such as cost, while others may take you completely by surprise, such as finding black mold behind your kitchen cabinets. Whatever the trigger may be, there are ways to deal with it before tossing the towel.

Anticipate Actual Costs

You did your research and have everything priced out correctly. You have probably calculated the costs for cabinets, new flooring, and labor for kitchen remodeling San Antonio. Although it’s nice to have a ballpark figure, know that when it comes to home renovations, things rarely pan out as planned.

Subcontractor costs, delays, unforeseeable issues, equipment rentals, and other line items can all quickly add up. While an experienced contractor should always respect homeowners’ budgets and steer them toward materials and projects that are within their price range, it’s not possible to anticipate every expense that comes along with home remodeling San Antonio. Homeowners should expect the unexpected by setting aside a budget specifically for contingencies.

Set a Strict Budget

When it comes to budget, money is one of the biggest factors that trigger stress and discussions between couples during home renovation projects. You can prevent the headaches and the stress that comes with them by determining beforehand just how much you plan to spend on your renovation. Do you have money set aside specifically for bathroom remodeling San Antonio? How much of your other funds do you agree to use (income, credit cards, home equity loans, etc.)? Discuss your budget before you begin renovations so that, when it comes time to spend, no party gets sticker shock.

Know What You Want

Nothing derails a home improvement project (or budget) more than an indecisive homeowner. You can save yourself, your significant other, and your contractors a lot of time by entering the process with a clear vision of what you want for your space. A solid idea helps to prevent mid-project and costly changes.

Additionally, in your quest for your dream space, it can be easy to fixate on the details. While it’s okay to be selective about cabinets and countertops, don’t stress about paint colors, sink fixtures, lights fixtures, or hardware during the project. You can easily change those features later on and when you begin to bring your space together.

Try to compromise on the small details during the renovation if your contractor asks you to.

Understand Your Home’s Quirks

It’s impossible to know what lies beneath your carpets, behind your cabinets, or behind your walls without first ripping them up or open. Even newer homes can hide complications. Understand that contractors are going to find problems when they get to work. In essence, just how extensive those problems are will really depend on your home’s age, its location, and other unique characteristics.

Get Away From the Home

Homeowners who try to micromanage renovation projects think they’re helpful, but this is far from the truth. Not only does their presence in the project induce stress, but it causes the contractors to stress, too. Try to limit the feedback on the smaller details and focus instead on the project in a larger scale.

For many homeowners, that can mean ensuring that the contractors are there only during work and school hours. For others, it may mean using up vacation time to get away from the home while the bulk of the work takes place. Whatever that means for you if you become overwhelmed by the “mess,” step away from your home and return when the stress and worry is gone.

For a stress-free renovation experience, work with a full-service home remodeling San Antonio firm with a reputation for doing things right. Contact Hestia Construction & Design today.

Learn More

5 Tips To Make Your Home Remodel Less Stressful | Hestia Construction & Design — Houston, Texas

[pauletterao]

Active Listening: 7 Don’ts of Active Listening

Remember the last time you were in a coaching session or conversation with a direct report and completely zoned out? As you resurfaced from your mental fog, you had no idea what the person was saying or how to respond. You scrambled as you tried to figure out what you may have heard them say before you lost focus.

A lot has been written about the do’s of listening. Here are a few of the don’ts. Elimination of just one of these will have a profound impact on your relationships.

Don’t anticipate what they will say. Doing this can entirely derail us from actually hearing what the person is saying. If we anticipate the future, we can end up directing the conversation to an area where we thought it was going or read what we thought we were going to hear into what the client is saying. Both are unhelpful. When we stop anticipating what someone will say, we can hear them in a way that is new and rare.

Don’t think of other things while they are speaking. Sometimes we enter a situation not fully prepared to listen attentively, with a mind that’s too cluttered to listen. It takes preparation and practice to be present for an entire coaching session, but it is worth it. You might try letting go of distractions by incorporating a mindfulness practice before you coach. Whether it is a favorite breathing technique or setting an intention, engage in a ritual that signals to your brain that you are closing down your self-focus and turning your attention to be of service. All the other moving parts of your life will be awaiting you at the end of the conversation or coaching session. Learn patience. You will get to deal with them next.  

Don’t think of what to say or ask next. It is okay to have silence. Don’t fall prey to thinking you need to immediately begin speaking when your client pauses. It’s okay, actually it’s highly recommended, to listen fully while they are speaking, and then, think of your next coaching move after they have finished. Take time. Slow is better if you want to go deep. This means trusting yourself to know the next right thing to do or say when it is time to do so rather than frantically searching your brain or notes for what to do next. This kind of listening takes confidence and comes with practice over time.

Don’t get caught up in details. I talked about this in my article on listening perspectives. Details are interesting, but rarely transformational. Insights lie in the penthouse of thinking—how someone is thinking through something, what they are feeling and experiencing when they think it through, what their best thinking is at this stage. These higher levels of thinking are where you want the client to focus and where you want to actively listen. The magic is not in the details—ever.

Don't have a personal agenda. When we have an agenda for a client or colleague, we most often begin to hear what we want to hear instead of what the other person is saying. We take in the information in the conversation in a way that supports our theory, and we dismiss what does not fit in. Even as an expert in a certain area, our real facilitative power comes from our ability to hold back the reins and allow their brain to muddle through their conundrum. This is their right and responsibility. Allow them to own their learning by listening without an agenda. Trust that they will get where they are going.

Don’t have a filter through which you experience this person. We all have our biases. As coaches, it is crucial that we become increasingly aware of what our biases are and learn to set them aside in each session, so we can truly create a judgment-free zone for our clients and hear them in their fullest capacity.

Don’t get emotionally hooked into what the client is saying. It is easy to take on the emotions of another especially if we care about them.  But if we become angry at their coworker with them, it will be more challenging for us to help them stay solutions-focused. Empathy is always good, and as Rumi says, we want to listen with an ear in the chest; but we don’t want to become enmeshed. Keeping a great enough emotional distance will help us help our clients do their best thinking. When we are not triggered and our prefrontal cortex is uncluttered by a stress response, we can listen at the highest level.

The impediments to active listening are many. To be fully effective we must not only be aware of our triggers and what throws us off course, but also be prepared to manage ourselves such that we can listen actively once we retrieve our presence.

“The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.” Rumi

[celticnoise]

TODAY CQN brings you the fifth EXCLUSIVE extract from Alex Gordon’s book, ‘CELTIC: The Awakening’, which was published by Mainstream in 2013.

The book covers the most amazing decade in the club’s history, the Sixties, an extraordinary period when the team were transformed from east end misfits to European masters.

THE Celtic fans did not have to suffer the pain and humiliation of a seventh consecutive New Year’s Day defeat from Rangers in 1962, the annual ritual no-one of the green and white persuasion anticipated with any particular fondness. Winter’s icy grip, unforgiving and unremitting, obliterated fixture lists throughout the country with pitches all over the place being deemed unplayable.

These were the freezing old days before the advent of undersoil heating and, back then, the ground staff at Parkhead would spread bales of hay on the surface days before the game and then attempt to brush the frost-covered straw off the pitch as close to kick-off time as possible. This action, of course, served to confuse player and fan alike when the markings on the pitch were fairly well disguised. There was also the use of braziers, strategically appointed around the playing area. This equipment was not the most imaginative, innovative or workable of ideas as they often scorched the grass directly beneath them. So, on this occasion, the conditions were the winners and the Celtic support, for the first time in seven years, weren’t forced to endure a different kind of Ne’erday hangover.

Celtic had waved a fond farewell to 1961 with a 4-0 success over Raith Rovers two days before Christmas Day. Would 1962 eventually be ushered in with another victory? Alas, no. Kilmarnock were the visitors to Parkhead on 6 January once the snows had cleared and the thaws had made known their welcome presence. It was a lively encounter, but Celtic and their fans had to settle for a 2-2 draw with Stevie Chalmers and Bobby Carroll pulling the trigger for the Glasgow side.

MASTER MARKSMAN…Stevie Chalmers.

Four days later Chalmers, with his ninth goal of the league campaign, was on target again, but once more it ended in stalemate against Third Lanark. Chalmers was a likeable guy off the field, but on it he was a demon, no goalkeeper was safe when Stevie was around. If they fumbled a shot or a header they knew there was every likelihood he would be on to it in a flash, taking ball and keeper into the net if need be. The player’s route to a career in the hoops was a strange one. He started at Junior side Kirkintilloch Rob Roy, moved to Newmarket Town and then on to Ashfield before being spotted by Celtic at the age of twenty-three.

He would often shake his head in disbelief and say, ‘You know, I signed for Celtic from Ashfield on 6 February 1959 and made my debut just a month later against Airdrie at Celtic Park. Unfortunately, we lost 2-1, but imagine that – one month I was turning out in Junior football and the next I was playing for the famous Glasgow Celtic. Couldn’t happen today, could it? Possibly not surprisingly, that was my only appearance of that particular campaign. Now you see me, now you don’t! But I realised I had been handed a great opportunity by Celtic and I wasn’t about to pass it up. I knew I could score goals for this club.’

Meanwhile, it had been awhile since the chants from the away fans of ‘Ha Ha Haffey’ had been heard, but, as anticipated, it was only a matter of time before his alter-ego put in an appearance. Big Frank was at his butter-fingered worst as Dundee United lashed four behind him at Tannadice on 13 January, but, fortunately, he was bailed out by the blokes in front of him. Mike Jackson (2), John Hughes (2) and Pat Crerand  were among his rescue party in a rollercoaster ninety minutes. Jackson said, ‘You never knew what you were going to get with Frank. He looked a world-beater on occasion and then performed like a rookie in the next game. In fact, if you were really unlucky, you would get both in the one game. It couldn’t have done much for the nerves of our defenders.’

FIVE OF THE BEST…Pat Crerand, Billy McNeill, Mike Jackson, Jim Kennedy and Dunky McKay involved in a five-a-sides tournament in Falkirk in the early sixties.

Undoubtedly, Johnny Divers, like Jackson, should have thrived under the influence of Jock Stein. One of his admirers was teenager John Hughes. He said, ‘I thought Johnny was a very under-rated player. He helped me a lot when I first came into the team and he was only a youngster at the time, too. As Mike Jackson points out, he scored over one hundred goals for the club and he was an inside-forward and not a main striker. That’s a fabulous total, but he, too, was moved on when Jock decided it was time for him to go. Like so many before him, he could have contributed so much more and his name should have been in lights.’

Bobby Lennox made his debut against championship-chasing Dundee in March at Parkhead in front of a crowd of just over 37,000, the majority of whom would go home happy after Celtic’s 2-1 victory. Lennox didn’t mark his baptism with a goal, but he would make up for it as his career unfolded; 273 times, to be precise. So, that was one game down and 570 to go for the man who would become known as ‘The Buzz Bomb’. Admittedly, the Dundee team that visited Glasgow that day had lost a little of their verve and venom while the talismanic Alan Gilzean toiled with injury problems, but they were still a formidable outfit and they had their eyes on winning the title for the first time in the club’s history.

Frank Brogan, a speed merchant on either wing who had been signed from St.Roch’s the previous year, got Celtic’s first goal and once again you are left to ask the inevitable question: What on earth happened to him? Brogan, whose brother Jim would later play for Celtic, looked the real deal with pace to burn, an eye for goal and breathtaking accuracy with crossballs while running full pelt. His style was hardly complicated. He knew he could skin any full-back with his breathtaking acceleration and didn’t over-indulge in the fancy footwork. Step-overs and the like were not for him simply because he didn’t require trickery to leave his opponent in his slip stream.

Why, then, did he falter and be allowed to leave Parkhead a year later for Ipswich Town after a total of only forty-eight appearances? Had the Celtic system failed him, too? Something, somewhere was not right because Frank Brogan possessed awesome potential and he should have been around for years to entertain the home support and terrify the opposition. Celtic’s winning goal against the Tayside men was provided by Billy McNeill with an unstoppable header from a well-flighted corner-kick from the aforementioned Brogan.

It would be extremely difficult to comprehend what happened next. Celtic were derailed again while facing another club in the relegation dogfight. This time it was Airdrie, who, at the end of the season, just escaped the drop on goal average. Two of the Broomfield side’s points total came at Celtic’s expense in a startling 1-0 win. Not for this first time, the Celtic support was left aghast at what it had just witnessed. A strong and purposeful Dundee team with their eye on the title had been beaten in the previous league encounter and here was the same side in green and white being turned over by a bunch of stragglers at the other end of the table. It was becoming increasingly perplexing.

HE FLIES THROUGH THE AIR…the much-maligned Frank Haffey.

One of the reasons for the Airdrie collapse, alas, was Frank Haffey, so often the whipping boy, but, at the same time, so often guilty as charged. And this time his own team-mates turned on him following an unforgivable howler. It was comic cuts stuff as he practically threw the ball into his own net and the players converged on their embarrassed No.1 without any attempt to disguise their disgust in front of the Broomfield audience. It’s harsh to single out an individual in what is essentially a team game, but there are occasions when you can quite easily detect the turning point in a game as well as a season. Any chance Celtic had of being crowned First Division champions disappeared that day in March with seven games still to play. Deservedly, the title eventually went to Dundee.

The Scottish Cup ended in utter and unexpected embarrassment for Celtic when fans rioted at Ibrox during a 3-1 defeat from St.Mirren in the semi-final. The club had gone into the game on the back of an overwhelming five-goal success over the same opponents only the previous week. Aspirations were high of a second successive Cup Final appearance and, hopefully, better fortune than that enjoyed against Dunfermline. Rangers were due to face Motherwell in the other semi-final at Hampden the same day hence Celtic playing at the home of their great rivals. The failure of the team against an ordinary Saints outfit was as horrendous as it was unacceptable.

After the first forty-five minutes, Celtic players sought the refuge of the dressing room after capitulating three times without reply. It was too much for some undesirables with eighteen minutes left to play. Suddenly there was a pitch invasion, the players were ushered off, bottles were thrown and police were wrestling with hooligans. Unfortunately, a fringe element followed Celtic – other clubs, too, had their own problems – and their insane reactions marked a new low in times back then. The game was eventually completed and finished 3-1 with Alec Byrne pulling one back.

However, the sickening images of so-called fans swarming all over the pitch appeared in newspapers the following day and the Celtic hierarchy, as you might expect, were mortified. The club strenuously warned against any repeat. A statement read, ‘If the thugs who profess to support Celtic think that they can influence the result of a match by such behaviour they indulged in on Saturday, they are very far and dreadfully mistaken. As soon as they tried to influence the outcome of the match we, as Celtic directors, decided the match was St.Mirren’s.’

The 1961/62 season had delivered little; the league blown with seven games still to play, an inability to qualify from a League Cup section that saw a relegated side, St.Johnstone, get through and a Scottish Cup adventure that ended in chaotic scenes at Ibrox. That powderkeg situation should have awakened a few at Parkhead; the natives were getting restless. During the season they had seen their favourites written off after one particularly dull game described in a national newspaper as being ‘the worst entertainment in the east end’.

That seemed harsh criticism because, appealing or appalling, the individuals in the green and white hoops had, in fact, always attempted to uphold the traditions of the club. It’s just that they did not possess the quality to deliver to a trophy-winning standard. There appeared to be very little happening on the player recruitment front in the summer of 1962. Disconcertingly, a general apathy seemed to be settling on the club. Indeed, it would be October before money was spent in the transfer market with a twenty-seven-year-old journeyman called Bobby Craig arriving from Blackburn Rovers for something in the region of £10,000. Apparently he had also played for Third Lanark and Sheffield Wednesday, but the question asked most by the man in the Jungle was, ‘Bobby Who?’ And yet, for all the wrong reasons, his name would be on every Celtic supporter’s lips by the end of the 1962/63 campaign.

Most of the usual suspects were in place when the new season kicked off with a League Cup-tie against Hearts at Parkhead in August. Frank Haffey was in goal with Dunky McKay and Jim Kennedy remaining at full-back. The wing-halves on either side of Billy McNeill were Pat Crerand and Billy Price. John Hughes, of whom big things were expected now he was being recognised as a first team regular, spearheaded the attack and Charlie Gallagher, Crerand’s cousin, would be playing immediately in front of him in the inside-right position with Bobby Murdoch occupying the same role on the left. Bobby Lennox was fielded on the right wing with Alec Byrne on the opposite flank.

There were still no real tactics in what appeared to be a rigid 2-3-5 formation. Improvisation among the players was a luxury denied them. There would have been apoplexy in the dug-out if say, for instance, Lennox, without prior permission, wanted to swap wings with Byrne for a spell to freshen things up. And God help the full-back who wanted to cross the halfway line, a doctrine which stifled the aggressive McKay, but probably suited the more pedestrian Kennedy. Things would change. Eventually.

  CAPTAIN AND LEADER…Billy McNeill.

Billy McNeill looked back, ‘We knew we had good players and we kicked off every campaign wondering if this was going to be the breakthrough season. We always wanted to make an early impact in the League Cup, but had failed to do so for too many years. It was the first piece of silverware up for grabs and we all realised the confidence that would come our way if we could win the trophy before the turn of the year. It would have given everyone, player and fan alike, a real lift. I recall we started that term with a 3-1 victory over a strong Hearts side who could prove troublesome to anyone on their day. Our failure to display any sort of consistency was evident in the next game when we lost 1-0 at Dundee. One minute we were up; the next we were down. To be perfectly honest, it was infuriating. Hearts ended with eight points to our seven and that was the end of the League Cup for another year. I have to admit to feeling a fair degree of sympathy for John Hughes. He had scored thirteen goals in the competition since making his debut against Third Lanark three years earlier and had yet to play outside the group stages.’

Rangers travelled across Glasgow for the first Old Firm encounter of the season. Once more the litmus test had arrived so early. The Ibrox side were still smarting after being dismissed by Dundee in the previous season’s race for the flag and had made all sorts of threats and promises throughout the summer. It was crunch time for them, too. Could they deliver? Manager Scot Symon had his strongest team at his disposal and, unfortunately, they answered the rallying call with Willie Henderson, a darting imp of an outside-right, beating Haffey for the game’s only goal. Consistency and this set of Celtic players were never bedfellows. The league had barely started, the players still sporting their summer suntans, and already Celtic were playing catch-up. Unfortunately, it was so typical of the times.

Both Old Firm clubs have always shown a ‘nosey neighbour’ interest in what is happening and what is going on in each other’s camps. The public mantra is quite different, of course, but it’s a lot of hogwash. If someone sneezes at Parkhead then they want to know about it at Ibrox. And vice versa. So, what had been happening across the Clyde during Celtic’s abysmal run? Rangers, in fact, were undefeated on their own soil and had dropped only two points out of ten. You can win championships with form like that. While Rangers dazzled, Celtic, sadly, dithered.

Muhammad Ali and George Foreman did not invent the Rumble in the Jungle in Kinshasa, Zaire, in 1974 as anyone who was in the vicinity of Parkhead to watch the early season 1-0 defeat from Queen of the South would surely testify. Clearly, the dreadful inconsistency of the team was more than just merely irritating the Celtic faithful. It had now reached the level of unsettling a support that felt the need to let its feelings known.

The club sailed serenely on, hitting every iceberg that was possible. Robert Kelly and his fellow board members were regular targets for some vicious verbal abuse as tempers frayed and snapped on the terracing. Jimmy McGrory, it appeared, was immune from criticism, the supporters having too much respect for a club legend. Alas, for the chairman and his directors, they didn’t fall into that category, as far as the fans were concerned.

After the Queen of the South catastrophe, Celtic went on a run of five games without success. The club had barely reached December and any thoughts of unfurling a championship flag at the start of the next season had been shredded and binned. It was like being forced to watch rerun after rerun of the worst movie you had ever seen. In slow motion. There was no escape and, yet, emotional ties brought the man with the bunnet back every matchday, the proverbial moth to a flame; the glutton for punishment.

The league was out with their reach, but there was no way they would allow Rangers to saunter to the title. The Celtic players readied themselves for beginning the dismantling job on their old rivals on the first day of 1963.

* TOMORROW: STUFF OF NIGHTMARES: Part Five of CQN’s EXCLUSIVE extracts from Alex Gordon’s book, ‘CELTIC: The Awakening’, an in-depth look at the most fascinating decade in the club’s history, the remarkable sixties.

The post CELTIC: THE AWAKENING: RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE first appeared on Celtic Quick News.

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[thelmasirby32]

Ecommerce and SEO: Past, present, and post COVID-19

30-second summary:

Ecommerce is suddenly a reality for millions of businesses who may not have had online selling on their radar prior to COVID-19.

Consumers in most countries are cutting back on discretionary spending as optimism for economic recovery has fallen. Groceries, household supplies, personal care, and entertainment are among the categories in which consumers plan to maintain spending.

In this post, we’ll take a look at the current state and how businesses will need to adapt their ecommerce and SEO strategy to succeed post-COVID-19 (whatever that may end up looking like).

As countries including the USA head into phased reopening, countless questions remain about the business landscape ahead. Will changes in consumer behaviour persist and if so, to what degree? Is there a second wave coming that will derail recovery efforts and send consumers back into lockdown? How can you plan for recovery when no one really knows quite what “recovery” means?  

In the face of such uncertainty, one thing is for sure, companies need to get in position to gather and analyze data quickly—to be agile and respond to whatever twists and turns Coronavirus throws our way next. Regardless of industry or location, that responsive, adaptable strategy is going to rely heavily on ecommerce and SEO. 

Ecommerce is suddenly a reality for millions of businesses who may not have had online selling on their radar prior to COVID-19. And while search optimization is a discipline as old as search engines themselves, dramatic differences in consumer behaviour may require an entirely new approach to SEO going forward. In this post, we’ll take a look at the current state and how businesses will need to adapt their ecommerce and SEO strategy to succeed post-COVID-19 (whatever that may end up looking like).

Consumer behaviour and ecommerce: Present state 

Fresh off of an unprecedented leap of $8.5 billion in U.S. CPG (in-store and online) sales during the first two weeks of March, conditions have quickly shifted once again. Panic buying gave way to record-high ecommerce sales in mid-March, after which we saw a week-over-week decline (-22%) in online sales between March 21-28. Overall, according to Nielsen, U.S. ecommerce sales right now are above the rates of one year ago. CPG, in particular, is soaring and up nearly 42% over the week ending April 4, 2019. 

Consumers in most countries are cutting back on discretionary spending as optimism for economic recovery has fallen. Groceries, household supplies, personal care, and entertainment are among the categories in which consumers plan to maintain spending. As of April 19, 32% of US respondents to a McKinsey survey were anticipating a drop in their household income and over half expect the impact on their household finances to persist for four months or more. 

Kantar/Google research shows even greater pessimism and pegs 71% of consumers in G7 countries as expecting their income will be impacted by Coronavirus. 

Source: Think With Google  

Online and phone ordering with contactless delivery or curbside pickup has become the modus operandi for millions of businesses. 

Businesses need to be able to listen closely to consumer fears, needs, and preferences as they evolve. Customers may not be comfortable heading straight back into crowded retail environments. Vacations closer to home may be preferred by many. Businesses will be challenged to understand the customer experience as it’s happening and to respond with optimizations in real-time to meet the individual’s needs.   

In addition to this increased listening and awareness, consumers want to hear from the companies with whom they choose to do business. Even prior to COVID-19, 64% of consumers and 84% of business buyers expected companies to respond to them in real-time, according to Salesforce research. Right now, consumers are looking to brands for guidance and expertise in solving the challenges they are experiencing navigating the path to a new normal. The vast majority of consumers across sectors want to hear from brands just as often or even more than before the Coronavirus pandemic. 

How SEO will drive ecommerce success as the coronavirus pandemic evolves 

The relationship between ecommerce and SEO has become far more complex than how you optimize product listings for search.  

But whether you’re ecommerce first, selling online as a sideline, or now enabling ordering and payment online with curbside or in-store pickup options, the insights gleaned from SEO will power more effective operations across the board. Here’s why: 

SEO provides real-time insight

BrightEdge (disclosure: a client company), back in 2019 surveyed a sample of over 200 digital marketers and found that over 86% of marketers stated the real-time research is critical to success. Furthermore, SEO insights are being used in all manner of digital marketing campaigns across paid search, video, email, and display. 

Real-time search insights – especially now – enable us to tap into localized pockets of demand and appear in front of customers with rapidly evolving needs and intent. SEO insights, more than any other type of data, give us a clear line of sight into the voice of the customer through search queries, interactions with local search results, site analytics, and more. 

SEO paves the way for both desktop and mobile experience

Consumers may not be searching for restaurants during the commute home from the office right now, but that doesn’t diminish the importance of mobile-friendliness, especially when it comes to ecommerce. As Google itself says, when it comes to mobile marketing, “speed is table stakes.”

Staying at home doesn’t necessarily mean switching to desktop, particularly where multiple family members may each be home and browsing on their own mobile device.  

Consider switching to next-gen image formats like JPEG 2000 or WebP for mobile, with PNGs or JPEGs for desktop browsers. Look out for render-blocking resources, inefficient code, unused CSS and other page speed or site speed issues that may be hindering your performance. Use Google’s Test My Site as a starting point.  

Search trends are key in staying on top of customer expectations

Who was even thinking about curbside pickup this time last year? Today, it’s pretty much expected that if you are open for business, you’ll provide this fulfilment option for customers who are not comfortable entering your store (in some places, entering the store may still be prohibited by public health regulatory agencies). 

 Those businesses that caught onto the trend in early to mid-March were ahead of the groundswell in early April. Being among the first in your space to catch onto a massive change in consumer demand such as this can help you win over new business and better serve your existing customer base. Google Trends has a Coronavirus Trends resource business should be keeping an eye on. These are helpful insights for marketing but could influence operations, sales, and customer service, as well. 

Search spans Google, Amazon, YouTube, and more

Organic search commands the largest proportion of channel share, accounting for 53.5% of site traffic, on average. A comprehensive ecommerce SEO strategy accounts for Google, but other product search opportunities, as well. Amazon, for one, cut back its service to third-party sellers but as this comes back online, there may be opportunities to expand your ecommerce presence in the world’s largest marketplace. Check out this guide to improving rankings on Amazon to get you started. 

Video search is another massive opportunity for companies now selling online, as Nielsen reports video streaming is up 100% in some markets due to Coronavirus. Even before lockdown, YouTube was both the world’s second-largest search engine and second-most visited website.  

YouTube SEO takes into consideration factors ranging from watch time and keyword targeting to sentiment, engagement, channel authority and more. Learn more about optimizing this channel in SEW’s YouTube Optimization: Complete Guide.

Post-COVID-19 SEO tips for ecommerce   

Whether you’re an experienced online seller or just transitioning to ecommerce as a result of physical distancing, your customers may be entirely different from who they were even three months ago. A few tips to help you get in front of the right people with the right content: 

Revisit your adherence to ecommerce SEO best practices. You may need to renew your keyword research, update on-page optimizations to reflect changes in consumer behaviour, reorganize your site structure and optimize for the new customer journey, refresh and add new content (particularly around how you are responding to COVID-19-related issues such as food safety or package handling). Ensure that you are monitoring trends in real-time whilst planning for ease of lockdown restrictions, seasonal and product demand. For example, above we can see large demand for products related to how people now are investing in their dwellings, particularly, with spring here and summer coming, and in outdoor spaces, it is important to seize opportunities where demand is high and also plan for future trends and new normal(s).  

Optimize your ecommerce site for voice search. Make sure you’re positioned to trigger a response when consumers ask their voice assistant for a product like yours. If you are not yet familiar with speakable schema, there’s a good primer here to help you get ready for it. 

Automate SEO intelligently. Taking the legwork out of routine SEO tasks can make marketers more efficient, freeing up valuable time for more creative optimizations and strategy. Of course, intelligent automation can dramatically improve search performance, too, by recognizing and optimizing for opportunities in real-time.  

Consider your headless commerce and content options. Make your products and content even more accessible, removing barriers to conversion in the process, by incorporating headless commerce into your strategy. This is the process of separating the front and back ends of your ecommerce application so you can sell directly through social media, for example.   

Most important of all is that you are set up to measure, analyze, and activate the mass of user signals consumers are sharing with you across search interactions and your ecommerce website. Whatever economic conditions and user preferences COVID-19 generates next, those businesses that are able to quickly understand and move on new opportunities will win the day.

The post Ecommerce and SEO: Past, present, and post COVID-19 appeared first on Search Engine Watch.

from Digital Marketing News https://www.searchenginewatch.com/2020/05/19/ecommerce-and-seo-past-present-and-post-covid-19/

[requiem-dailyprophet]

WITCHTIPS & HOROSCOPES 7/17-23/2019

Eclipse season is finally over! Over the past few weeks, secrets have come to light, as the stars have unmasked truths and forced us to move towards growth. We are now at the impetus of change—choosing the next course of action to move forward with the emotional clarity the eclipses have brought to us.

This week starts off with an intense aspect between tender Venus, who is currently riding the emotional Cancerian seas, and austere Saturn, who is retrograde in practical Capricorn on 17th. Right after these two planets come to oppose each other, Venus aligns with the North Node of Destiny, making the 17th a karmic day. We may feel underwhelmed in matters of love and desirous of boosting our bank accounts on the 17th. Venus is in the mood to commit to a new way of partnering and saving money, as long as Saturn’s lessons are recognized. The following day, Venus softly connects with illusive Neptune, who is retrograde in dreamy Pisces, on the 18th. We may feel lost, paranoid, and unsure of the commitments we made on the 17th, but we will still move forward with the vision. Mercury retrograde reenters Cancer on July 19th, taking us back in time to June 26th, where the communication master spent its last day in Cancer before entering Leo. Venus opposes powerful Pluto, who is retrograde in Capricorn, on July 21st, adding the emotional component from the eclipse on July 16th. The 21st is a very intense day. Arguments and deep seated issues may come to the surface on the 21st. Before firing back, we must ask ourselves if this is the vision of what we want to grow. Is it worth the effort? The Cancer Sun links up with Mercury retrograde on the 21st, giving us clarity throughout the chaotic day. Finally, the Sun enters passionate Leo on the evening of July 22nd, adding desire and strength to our hearts and minds.

Aries

March 21-April 19

It’s been a long time since you’ve stepped away from your professional obligations. This week serves as a reminder that there’s more to life than work, business meetings, and paying bills. Take a moment to smell the roses and embrace the finer things in life. No more restless nights trying to jam work in before you fall asleep—supplement those evenings for a casual and relaxing reprieve from daily anxieties at home with your loved ones. Leave your stresses at the door and coast through the week with pleasure. Give your mind time off from stresses to enjoy these summer nights.

Taurus

April 20-May 20

Remember a time when life was simpler? This week you are reminiscing and rethinking your youth. Revisiting the past may be fun, but your nostalgic mind may cause old wounds to resurface. Exploring your younger days with wonder will heal your heart and mind (if you’re ready). Just don’t spend too much time reliving these early childhood memories, as it may force you to dwell on issues and get stuck in the past. Use old lessons as a jumping board to create the life you crave. Let your old wounds heal. Most importantly, forgive yourself. Dream of what’s to come.

Gemini

May 21-June 20

You’re now figuring out how to take control of your life, which is a big step for you, as you’re a “live in the moment” kind of Star Sign. Learning to implement structure and boundaries will prove challenging, due to your airy sentimentality. Giving in to others whims and tantrums has allowed you to evade conflict in the past and kept relationships conflict free. Currently, you’re not afraid of arguing—you just want peace of mind at all costs, which means stepping up your attitude and focusing your priorities on yourself. Detox yourself of energy vampires to restore inner tranquility.

Cancer

June 21-July 22

Power struggles with others may cause major issues in all interpersonal relationships. The underlying issue that’s causing your emotional upsets to surface, is that you feel ignored by others, which is forcing you express yourself (even if that means hurting those you love in the process). It’s hard to walk away from a disagreement when you are upset, especially when emotions are heated. You don’t have to force your views on others to be heard (and vice versa). When emotions get too heated during a conversation, take a step back. Let yourself and the situation cool down before continuing the discussion.

Leo

July 23-Aug. 22

Taking time out from the daily grind is a necessity this week, as you are experiencing physical and emotional burnout. Your hard efforts and work ethic has allowed you to gain success. But, you’re too exhausted to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Give yourself a momentary reprieve from life’s stresses and sleep in. Get the massage you’ve been dreaming about for weeks to de stress. Indulge in a relaxing bath at night before bed. Spend time with friends. All of these suggestions will act as a jumping start as self-care, which you very much need to add to your routine.

Virgo

Aug. 23-Sept. 22

There may be underlying issues brewing within your coven that are causing you a bit of stress. A great way to connect with your coven is to incorporate creative projects into your magical practices (activities you can all do together). This will allow you to connect with your fellow witches outside of the magical community. It will also serve to strengthen the bond between you all. Not only will problems be resolved, but you will be able to communicate through creative means and spend time engaging on a different level. Artistic endeavors can heal and transform your relationships this week.

Libra

Sept. 23-Oct. 22

You’re in a transitional place of emotional healing. You’ve been letting go of old wounds and hurts, trying to evolve your mind and heart. So far, you’ve been able to transform at a rampant pace. However, this week, you may experience temporary setbacks. The past will come back to haunt you, possibly derailing all of the emotional progress you have made. It’s your choice to engage with those who can derail your recent headway. Understanding your emotional triggers is important, as it will save you a lot of pain and aggravation. Also, setting clear boundaries will help in remedying issues.

Scorpio

Oct. 23-Nov. 21

False information is coming your way, forcing you to fact check all communications with others. Unfortunately, your mind will get a little cloudy this week (from all the celestial confusion and noise), causing you to believe in situations that may be exaggerated and unreal. Best advice to avoid unnecessary issues is to think about the source and decide if they are usually correct. Perhaps they are trying to ruffle your feathers out of jealousy. Regardless of the matter, think twice before believing the tall tales you hear this week. Lean into your intuition to access the truth of the matter.

Sagittarius

Nov. 22-Dec. 21

You’ve been feeling a bit off for the past few weeks, mostly due to your decreasing confidence. While you may want to crawl under a rock and hide from all the celestial activity coming your way, you will be pleased by what’s cosmically in store for you. This week aims to rebuild your confidence, making your heart sore with delight. Learning to talk and listen with kindness, before impulsively shouting out your sentiments, is the first step to rebuilding your esteem (as you will feel more connected to others—which is what you secretly desire the most).

Capricorn

Dec. 22-Jan. 19

Be clear with your intentions this week, as you may inadvertently hurt others. While this may not be your aim, you may step on other people’s toes causing more harm than anticipated. Although you often don’t shy away from expressing your sentiments, this past month has stopped you in your tracks, giving you the personal awareness to state your feelings with compassion, rather than force. Allow an open discourse to take place, with the aim to heal and mediate concerns from others. You will be surprised by the results, which will allow you to flourish with kindness and transparency.

Aquarius

Jan. 20-Feb. 18

Secrets and clandestine activities are coming to light this week, causing you to feel extra stressed. Don’t despair! You have the cosmic opportunity to stop the rumors in their tracks, or to explain your part in the matter at hand. The worst thing you can do is to run away from these matters when they come to the surface. Tackle them head on to avoid further confusion and gossip. Although you tend to steer away from confrontation, being direct will help squash these pesky problems before they become bigger issues. Odds are, people will come to your rescue if you’re honest.

Pisces

Feb. 19-March 20

Finding your footing may be hard this week, as you are unable to feel grounded in the world. While you may be geared to take on more leadership roles, understand that if may change the dynamic within your social circle. Relationships and emotions are always prone to change (a sentiment no one knows better than you)—but, you are emotionally torn on how to proceed. You will be able to make headway and gain clarity over the weekend. However, any actual decisions are best left until the end of the month, as you may experience a reversal of sentiments by then.

(x)

[oneworldproductions]

Chapter VIII - Jon Moxley versus Zack Sabre Jr.

As the music came to a fade, the capacity crowd on hand were on their feet as the Technical Wizard in Zack Sabre Jr. began to tighten the drawstring of his trunks while eyeing the proverbial Street Dog in Jon Moxley from across the ring.

♫OOOH!! ZACK SABRE JUUU-NIOR!! Louisiana began to soar in unison as the Brit began to bounce on the tips of his toes, feeling the energy as they’ve anticipated his long awaited return. Meanwhle, Jon snarled and paid no mind to the white noise around him, rather salivated at the mouth at the piece of meat he was convinced was easily about to devour. The senior official of the contest came forth between the two men and checked on their status, “Gentlemen, are you ready? Are you ready? … Ring the bell!!” Ding!! Ding!! Ding!! An eruption of cheers signified the start of the contest as Jon stood in place and soaked in the moment, while Zack came down to reality to the task at hand, beginning to hunch in cautious approach, knowing full well of what Jon was capable of — anything. As the Submission Specialist began to narrow in, Jon began to be a little more cautious and began to mind his space, quickly side stepping from him being cornered against the turnbuckle and buying some time for his own ‘smart’ approach. Kevin Kelly: A surprising slow start for Zack and Jon here, after Moxley found that Suzuki Gun towel inside his locker room! Don Callis: Are you kidding me, Kevin?! You know just as well as I do, that Jon is all hot headed up until he’s faced with the reality at hand that Zack Sabre Jr., this young gifted stud, is standing before him and can twist him up in a pretzel faster than hairline receding. Kevin Kelly: Oh, yeah … you’re one to talk. Don Callis: None of us here at the table can talk … Point of the matter being, this is not going to be a walk in the park for Jon, kid’s in for a long night! Mauro Ranallo: Don’t be quick to under estimate the formally monikered 'Lunatic Fringe’, Don! We’re talking about the same man who was told he would never lay claim to one of the most prestigious Championship Belt’s in this Sport! If anyone can catch Zack off of his game and derail his accolade stacked twenty-eighteen? It’s Jon Moxley. Kevin Kelly: And here we go..! Amidst the chatter we were showcased a strategic grapple fest, where Zack had tested his reach of Moxley while the Street Dog clung to his roots and shadow boxed the Brit out of his comfort zone. A rhythmic clap began to elevate through the silence and concentration of the ring, as eventually the two men had tied up in the bow-and-collar tie up and began to assert one another’s dominance in struggle of control as they’ve do-si-do’d around the ring canvas. Moxley had gradually muscled the noticeably thinner Brit against the turnbuckle where he imposed his will and shoved his palm in the throat of Sabre Jr., hoping to provide him great discomfort. Zack coughed as he struggled for his next breath, glaring at the Ref with what little vision he had as he began to count on Moxley to release the hold. “One!…Two!…Three!…C'mon Moxley!…Four!…I’m ringing the bell!…” Jon had reluctantly released the hold, knowing his odd charm would buy him some extra time from costing him the contest via disqualification … or perhaps he really didn’t care if he had gotten disqualified? Before we could get too caught up in that thought, Zack had reached out and slapped Jon across the face with relentless retaliation! “OOHH!!!” The sold out crowd on hand called out as Sabre Jr. marched out from the turnbuckle and pressed foreheads with Jon Moxley, who was heated that such a gesture of disrespect was shown to him as he frothed at the mouth, blaring his reddened blues into the eyes of Technical Wizard who casually blurted “Step the fuck up, Jon-Boy. Show me what you got!” Mauro Ranallo: Mama-mia!! Kevin Kelly: Be careful what you wish for!! Like a bat out of hell unleashed a wicked European Uppercut from Moxley that scythed beneath the throat of the Brit, causing him to stumble back towards the turnbuckle, after being met with a barrage of furious right hands, connecting to the temple of Sabre Jr. whose head began to bounce back off of the top rope, only to be met with the flurry of accurate right hands thrown recklessly into the temple of Zack looking to cause harm! The crowd met every punch with a comedic count-o-meter, reaching the ridiculous number of “30!” Jon, from the bottom of his stomach unleashed a hearty war cry into the air as the sold out capacity crowd retorted in eruption of cheers, feeding off of the Street Dog’s adrenaline that was clearly on display as he marched around the ring and fed off of the crowd’s hype. While Zack had sunk in the corner looking dazed and confused, questioning his placement and surrounding as he had just been rung from an onslaught of precise right hands. “Bloody hell…” Zack was heard muttering as he found complacent in his current position, getting rather comfortable while he wiped the proverbial cobwebs from his conscious. But before the Brit could get too comfortable, the crowd was wildin’ up and getting behind Jon who had sprinted to the far end of the ring, only to rebound and greet the Sabre Jr.’s chiseled chin with a stiff right boot with a running face wash! The very sound of the rubber insole of Jon’s boot colliding with Zack’s face caused a questionable tooth to shoot out from the Brit’s mashed lips, his bronze flecks rolling to the back of his head as the announcers called from 'Dream Street’! Before Zack could come to his senses, he felt his ankle be taken hold of and being dragged out to the center of the squared circle, as Jon dropped to his knees and draped his body over Zack’s with his leg hooked in a single for the cover! “One!…Two!…Thr–Kickout!!” The sold out capacity crowd in attendance had sighed, some with relief as Zack somehow came around to answer the call. His shoulder popping up off of the canvas as his body rolled to recovery position, gasping for his next breath as he mustered the courage to get back into the vicious game that was Professional Wrestling. Meanwhile, Jon had popped up from the failed pinfall and was noticeably tired. Slouched over and breathing heavily as he expelled a lot of energy with hopes of putting the Brit away in early and spectacular brawler fashion. This had bought Zack some time, as he managed to crawl to all fours and begin to make his way towards the closest set of ropes, reaching up to assist him in regaining his balance from having his equilibrium checked. As he began to slowly ascend, Jon had already made it to his feet and began to stalk to Brit with intention to do harm … however Jon was met with a surprising European Uppercut of Zack’s own! The limb of Sabre Jr.’s jacked the jaw of Jon who sprung backwards from the attack as the Brit followed up with a series of open hand slaps of his own, in mixture with slickly noted calf kicks by the color commentary team, only to be followed up with a spectacular spinning heel kick to the midsection of Moxley! Jon folded over, exhausting his lungs from the unsuspected kick, only for the back of his head to be stomped down upon from the ignorant Sabre Jr. who had ill will on his intentions, forcing Mox to fall face first into the canvas beneath the imposed will of ZSJ! Louisiana didn’t quite know how to receive the cocky gesture of the Brit, who carelessly rubbed the raw rubber sole of his athletic shoe over the shell of Jon’s ear, who kicked his legs out from under him from the annoying pressure point gesture that Zack naturally displayed, showing no respect for the Cincinnati Native. A chorus of boo’s came down as ZSJ looked out to the crowd and simply held up both guns, cocking both triggers as he flipped the trigger out towards the audience, showing that he could care less of their thoughts on what little of respect he had to showcase in his return to One World. Kevin Kelly: Well, at least it’s good to know that somethings never change. Don Callis: I’m telling you Kevin, when Minoru Suzuki got in this kid’s head? It brought something out in him. And I think it’s for the better! Kevin Kelly: Yeah, well try convincing that to Jon Moxley, who is beneath the boot of Sabre Jr. right now! C'mon Referee, get the man off his head! Finally the official had convinced Zack to let up his foot, stepping back as he raised his hands to his own credit, abiding by the official’s demands as he tried to sidestep him and take advantage of the situation. “Yeah, a'ight mate, fuck off.” Mouthed the Brit who pushed aside the official, who only stepped to Sabre Jr. as he walked on by, but retorted from coursing any more action as the Brit unleashed a sick kick right into the face of Moxley as he was trying to push himself up from the ring canvas! The sick slap of his arch meeting Jon’s face was met with a gut wrenching sigh from the sold out crowd, as Zack showcased vicious behavior in attempts of physically harming Jon, questioning whether this encounter between the two had become a shoot?! The Referee had chirped in Zack’s ear over the questionable kick, but wouldn’t call for the bell just yet. Sabre Jr. however wouldn’t let up and would apply his torso to the shoulder blade of Moxley who began to situp on all fours, masking his face from the sickening kick from ZSJ just seconds earlier, only for his cranium to be met with hollow thumping bony knees being raised and driven into the skull of Jon, who naturally cradled into a ball and covered his head in attempts of softening the blows of the retaliating ZSJ who demonstrated a clinic in his improved striking, wanting to drive his knees right into the face of Jon Moxley to repay for the thirty-odd hits he took to his head earlier, perhaps taking personal offence to such attack. Whatever it was … it certainly changed the tempo of this match. Just as Jon thought he could rest from the oncoming attack, his body was dragged out from the ropes and was pushed to his back where he had been covered . “One!…Tw-Kickout!” Jon wasn’t out of this fight just yet, as he jolted up from the pin attempt from Sabre Jr., who just sat up on his knees and watched as Jon tried to gasp for air in his seated position, but this was just where ZSJ had wanted him. Zack shot forth and snuck his right arm underneath the jaw of Jon and snaked his legs around Moxley’s waist from behind, sneaking in a backpack rear naked choke hold as Jon rolled to his side and dug his hands into the flesh of Sabre Jr., hoping to pry his thinner limbs from beneath his neck as he applied a sickening choke hold! “Do you give up, Jon?!” The official had asked of the Street Dog who had wheezed for his next breath, as Zack continued to showcase his determination of making Jon recite those two words that he has been heard saying only once in a blue moon. Louisiana were on their feet wondering if such a moment was going to be experience tonight as the sold out capacity crowd were on their feet, cheering for their respective combatants as Zack began to transition out of the choke once he felt Jon grow weak in his bind. ZSJ made it look easy, as he climbed over Jon in a full mount grapple, and began to assert himself as he showered down on the Lunatic Fringe with a bit of his own medicine. Stiff palm strikes were intended for Mox’s face, hoping anything would break through the frantic waving of Jon’s arms who attempted to block any oncoming strikes that were intended for his face. “Jon! Jon?! Do you give up?!” Moxley was not responding, he would never dream of doing such a thing, and it’s not like he’s never been in a fight before - however he’s never been in quite of a fight like this one. In his frantic arm movement, ZSJ had seen another opportunity present itself as he quickly had shot up to the balls of his feet, and quickly side-stepped over Jon’s arm, and fell back with a cross arm-breaker submission hold! This fluid movement had occurred all too fast of Moxley to act upon defending it, as he now laid at the mercy of Zack’s torquing hips, thrusting up into his shoulder socket as he attempted to rip the meaty limb from his anatomy. Jon’s jowls unhinged from his skull as he shouted from the pit of his stomach in pain, feeling his muscle tissue being pulled and stretched in the most undesirable manner, fighting through the pains of the nagging question on whether he wanted to call it a night. Don Callis: That injured arm, Kevin! Mauro Ranallo: Is this it?! Is this the sweet serenade of Jon Moxley at Chapter Eight?! Kevin Kelly: Zack Sabre Jr. with a sick torquing armbar on Jon Moxley in the center of the ring, and just … AND JUST WHEN YOU THINK HE’S GOT YOU IN ONE MOVE … Kevin Kelly lead on as we watched the beautiful technical display of Zack Sabre Jr. as he reached down and took hold of the flailing limb of Jon’s leg, and proceeded to haul his leg back as now bent him in an awkward bow-and-arrow stretch with his arm and leg, while driving his knee into the back of Jon Moxley who now seemed to be tied in the web that was spun by your Friendly Neighborhood Sabre Jr.! The crowd was really starting to feel for Moxley here, as it seemed like his fate was inevitable at this point, as Zack was like a Cobra once it had caught it’s prey in it’s bind, and it was only a matter of time that the venom of Moxley’s muscles being stretched beyond their extent would deteriorate his will to go on and make Zack the victor. Don Callis: C'mon Jon, what do you have to prove?! Call it a night, bud. Mauro Ranallo: You can’t question Moxley’s fighting spirit, Ladies and Gentlemen, the man is a fighter through-and-through … but every man has his day. Kevin Kelly: It’s only a matter of time … It had seemed that time had only made matters worse of Moxley who now had been had his way with, as Zack managed to adjust his body weight to somehow sit-up and stand on his knees from his laying position, while still handling one elbow and ankle of Jon’s in each of his arms, as he began to eye his next route of attack. Just as the sweat stricken Brit had plotted his next move, he couldn’t help but notice how much noise that Jon had been making in the pain he was putting him through in this unique submission maneuver. With the rise of his right boot, he began to stomp down relentlessly on the head of Moxley while he had been tied up in his bind, hoping to bring the Cincinnati Native to a state of unconsciousness! One sick kick after another, the heavy and tired driven sole of ZSJ’s boot was now being stomped over the vulnerable face of Moxley who was at the mercy of Sabre Jr.’s submissive knot, unable to defend the sickening strikes as the Referee has seen enough!!! “Ring the bell! … Ding!! Ding!! Ding!!” A sudden shock falls over the sold out capacity crowd as Sabre Jr. heard the bell and reluctantly released the hold, letting a motionless Jon Moxley go from the vicious striking submissive hold as he staggered to his feet and struggled to the closest turnbuckle, gasping too for his next air as he confusingly looked at the official for the decision. The senior official leaned between the ropes and voiced the following to the announcer… “The Winner … by way of Referee Stoppage … Zack! Sabre! Junior!” As “Sabre Jr. Tribute” sounded the public announce systems, Zack fell down to his ass and leaned against the turnbuckle, wearing a toothy grin as he chuckled at the annunciation of his victory, listing to the mixed cheers and jeers that erupted from the crowd at the result as a motionless Jon Moxley laid in the middle of the ring being attended to by the Senior Official. The Brit sat and began to pick at the tape on his wrists, pealing them off as he watched Jon having a flashlight shone in his eye as he laid assumed unconscious on the ring canvas. The cameraman catching Zack’s very reaction as he raised his right hand in Jon’s direction and flipped him off, showing him how little he thought of him in this concerning moment. A chorus of boo’s now showered down on Sabre Jr., who took his rolled up wrist tape and threw it at the motionless body of Jon who laid still being tended too. ZSJ grabbed the bottom rope and slipped beneath it, escaping the scolding of One World Pro-Wrestling Officials who called on Zack to have a bit more class, especially after a victory and how said result occurred. As Zack made his way up the entrance ramp, he breathlessly looked into the camera as his nimble fingers began to pull at the laces in his trunks, shining his pearly whites while an assortment of insults were being shouted his way while making his way to the back. “You should'a just tapped out, Mate.” Zack announced cockily, shaking his head as he spat at the camera lens, causing the man to stall as Sabre Jr. walked by, heard chirping the words off in the distance as he made his way through the black curtain. “Just. Tap. Out.” Don Callis: Wow! … There’s a bright future here, for that young man.

[fitcoachmohi]

7 Tips to Improve your eating habits. Habits can be hard to change because, well, they are habits. Each year, many of us look at changing some of our bad habits, and the best thing I can do to help my clients is to try to help them prioritize—and work on the easiest things first.Whether you’re looking to change a number of bad habits or only one or two, there are some basic principles to consider when it comes to navigating your way through the behavior change process. So, here are some tips for smoother sailing: Set your behavior goals and make them reasonable. Be specific. “I want to get physically fit” or “I will eat better” are too vague. Instead, set a goal of “I will walk 30 minutes a day” or “I will pack my own lunch twice a week.” Start with the easiest changes first. Once you tackle those and feel successful, you’ll feel empowered to take on more challenges. As each small change becomes permanent, they’ll start to add up, which can also add up to big health benefits. Don’t think ‘forever.’ Try to just get through a weekend without overdoing it, or take things a day at a time—or even a meal at a time if you have to. Keep track so you know how well you’re doing. If you’ve been trying to boost your physical activity, keep a log of your minutes or miles. If you’re trying to cut back on sweets, set a limit for the week and keep track. And for each small success, give yourself a pat on the back. Try to anticipate what might derail you and plan accordingly. If parties are your undoing, plan to have a snack before you go, and decide ahead of time how many drinks you’ll have. If you know you’ll hit the snooze button instead of exercising in the morning, put the alarm clock across the room—right next to your workout clothes. Practice the art of distraction. When you get the urge to eat something you shouldn’t, tell yourself that you’ll wait 15 minutes before you give in. Chances are, you’ll get busy doing something else and forget about it. Notice what triggers your bad habits and break the chain. http://bit.ly/2OxEKQw #healthtips #wellnesscoach #fitcoachmohi https://www.instagram.com/p/BmZ1gUmFdNd/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=hbbep5waiusb

[aelowan]

Summiting Mount Writers’ Block

What is Writers’ Block? Each writer defines writers’ block in their own way. To us, writers’ block doesn’t exist. We don’t actually believe in it. We believe in getting stuck. Often, to call getting stuck writers’ block is to give it a great deal of power over your creative process. It becomes an event. It becomes an insurmountable force standing in the way of you reaching your creative goals.

If Writers’ Block Doesn’t Exist, Why Can’t I Find the Words?  

When you’re staring at the blank screen, but the words just won’t come, there could be one or more factors putting the brakes on your creative output. Most of these factors can be broken down into just six categories:

1. Something is awry in your story 2. Environmental factors are either not conducive to or actively stopping your writing 3. You don’t have enough time to devote (or perceive that you don’t) 4. Your stress level is too high 5. Anxiety is overwhelming you 6. Your block is actually depression

We’ll talk about each of these categories—how you can spot each one and ways to help you get unstuck if this is your challenge.

Its Broken—Something is Awry in Your Story

One of the primary reasons why authors get stuck is because something in their story isn’t working like they intended. There are three primary ways something can go awry:

• You have fallen into a rabbit hole (and found dirt instead of Wonderland) • Your story doesn’t have enough conflict to drive it • A character (or characters) lack agency

Falling into a Rabbit Hole

Let’s talk for a minute about the pantsing vs. outlining debate.

There are two broad types of writers—those who start with an outline of the action to follow as they write and those who start with only a loose sense of where the story is headed. (This second group are called pantsers in reference to the idiom: flying by the seat of their pants.)

Outliners believe that carefully structuring the action before writing keeps them focused and on track. Many will prewrite important sections, much like a movie director creates a storyboard. Detail level in outlines can vary from those who know the general topic of a chapter to those who create a play-by-play of each scene. This method can be very effective, but critics feel that it can stymie creativity, locking in the action and leaving little room for exploration.

Pantsers believe that allowing a story to grow organically allows them to evolve ideas as they write. They may begin a story with an idea for who the characters are and what the cornerstone pieces of the action will be, but they allow the action in each chapter to lead them to what happens next. This method can lead to unexpected places—rabbit holes. Some rabbit holes lead to Wonderland—places that you never dreamed the story could go. These rabbit holes can enrich your story tremendously. On the other hand, some rabbit holes lead to a dirty hole in the ground from which your plot cannot dig out. These rabbit holes are the type we are talking about. (It is important to note that outliners are not immune from rabbit holes. They are simply more likely to have ironed out impossible plots before they began writing.)

If your words have stopped flowing, make sure that you haven’t fallen into a rabbit hole you can’t escape from. If you think you may have, you’ll need to figure out what about the plot has made it untenable. Follow the hole you went down backwards to find the last plot point that funneled you here. Examine that plot point. Was there another option available to your characters than the one they took? Try starting at that decision, but going in another direction. Giving your characters a do-over may be just what you need to get the words flowing again.

Not Enough Conflict

Another place where a story can run off the rails is where there isn’t enough conflict to propel the action forward. If you’ve found that you have pages and pages of characters doing inconsequential things or of characters doing much more talking about how past plot points made them feel, rather than participating in new plot points, your problem may be that there isn’t enough conflict in your story.

Look at each character and determine what they want. What is it that motivates them? What role do they play in this story? What characters or elements exist that stop your character from achieving their goals? You generate conflict in a story by putting characters in direct contact with characters or elements who want opposite things. Simply put—determine what your characters want, then throw increasingly difficult obstacles in their path.

This might be a good time to mention the concept of an overpowered character. Especially in speculative fiction, many characters have abilities that the rest of the world do not possess. It is tempting to keep adding power to your characters in order to make them able to overcome any obstacle. This can lead to problems because as a character gains power, unless the obstacles keep pace, soon the character has no risk in the story. Instead of conflict driving the plot forward, the story has become a scrapbook of your amazing character breezing through life. If you find yourself feeling like there is no energy to your plot, check to make sure that your character still has to struggle to succeed.

Lacking Agency

The last place your story could be holding you back is if one or more of your characters lack the agency needed to affect the world around them. If you find that your writing is bogged down and you just can’t think of any way to move forward (and you’ve made sure that you haven’t fallen into the wrong rabbit hole) then check your characters to make sure that they have the means and influence to carry a story. Are they able to make decisions on their own? Are they merely reactive to the actions of others or are they proactive in their own story? Do your characters make decision that further the plot, or are they plot piñatas who are simply being battered about by the events around them?

If you find that your characters are far more reactive than proactive, you’ll need to take a hard look at the character and what function they serve in the story. If a character’s job is essentially set decoration and their only purpose is to react to the actions of other characters, that character—no matter how cute, tragic, attractive, or loved—is holding you back. Story thrives on conflict. If your character can’t contribute in a way that drives the action forward, then they are a prop. Stories can have prop characters as long as they are very minor. If you have a prop character sucking the energy from a large portion of your story, getting stuck is inevitable.

Locking the Door—Environmental Factors

Sometimes, what stops the flow of words has nothing to do with the story itself, but has triggers elsewhere in your life. Some of the most common factors that can derail you are components in your writing environment. These come in two broad groups: physical and social factors.

Physical Causes for Derailment

Some environmental triggers that can stop the flow of words are things that distract us that can be altered. Environmental factors like uncomfortable room temperature, distracting noises, constant phone calls, a disorganized space, and spending excess time on the internet can all lead to frustration which can build into an inability to concentrate and create.

These kinds of factors can be mitigated fairly easily. The use of fans or heaters to make your writing area comfortable, using music to help stimulate your creativity and drown out distracting noises, keeping your writing area organized in a way that makes sense to you, ignoring non-essential phone calls until you are finished writing, and setting boundaries for when you are working and when you can surf online can all do wonders for lowering your frustration and getting you back on track.

Social Causes for Derailment

Some environmental triggers are not as easy to fix. The biggest is not having a social structure that is supportive of your writing or your need for a distraction-free time to pursue it.

When you live with others, it can sometimes be difficult for them to understand that writing is much more strenuous than it may appear. It requires a great deal of concentration. It may look like we’re “just typing” and that we should be able to stop abruptly then pick up where we left off easily. Nothing could be further from the truth. Most writers have some version of the writing trance. It is a lot like the zone that long-distance runners talk about. It is a place where the world around us falls away and we are completely present in our story with our characters. It doesn’t operate like a light switch. Like runners, most of us need a period to warm up and cool down around our emotional workouts. When people and animals in our environment continually interrupt this trance, it takes us far longer to get back into our trance than they may realize. This can lead to frustration and sometimes can derail us to the point where we completely lose our connection to the scene.

If you think that social environmental factors are affecting your writing, try talking to the adults in your life and asking for their help. Non-writers often have no idea how their “just a quick sec” interruptions affect us. Good communication may help you get the distraction-free environment you need. If the social factors are small children or pets, be proactive. Make sure that you have anticipated and tended to the needs of those who depend on you before you begin. In a hectic house, with constant demands from children and pets, changing the time of day you write might also help. Saving your writing time until everyone is in bed may give you the uninterrupted time you need to get words on the page.

Too Many Irons in the Fire—When You Don’t Have Enough Time to Write (Or Think That You Don’t)

Sometimes, our lives are simply too busy to write. A new baby, a new job, and exams are all reasons why you really might not have enough time to get words on the page. But often, we fall into a pattern of believing that because we are active, but don’t have time to write. Chances are, you have more time than you think you do.

The average fantasy novel is around 100,000 words—probably more than you have time to do in a weekend—but it is not as many as it may seem. With an active schedule you may not have time to write 5000 words a day, but could you write 500 words a day? The average word length for the English language is 4.5 characters. If we round that down to 4 characters and a one character for a space, 500 words a day is 2500 characters, or the equivalent of 17.8 140-character tweets. That is easily in reach for even the busiest of us.

500 words a day might not sound like much, but if you find that small amount of time every day, in 200 days—less than 7 months—your 100,000-word novel would have a draft.

Saying that you don’t have time to write can be a lot like saying you don’t have time to exercise. There is a point at which it is a matter of setting priorities and deciding that your story is important enough to squeeze in your daily writing workout.

My Life Is Too Complicated—When You Are Too Stressed to Write

We have all had those years, when the pressures of the real world—family obligations, trouble at work, money matters, illness, social upheaval, interpersonal strife—builds to such a head that it takes over every part of your life. These periods can make getting words onto the page a particular challenge. The brain power you need to bring to bear on your story is being used to process other priorities.

This type of stuck is one of the only times that it might be time to take a vacation from the story. You need to be gentle with yourself and do what you can to alleviate the pressure. If you’re not ready to call a vacation just yet, try some of the many techniques for lowering stress. Go for a walk, get a massage, take a hot bubble bath, play with a dog, meditate/pray. Find some time each day to do one small thing that is only for you.

Anxiety – When You’ve Talked Yourself into Being Stuck

Sometimes we can’t get the words out because our fears about ourselves and our writing have taken over. Writing is not an easy thing to do. It requires an enormous amount of vulnerability as we lay ourselves metaphorically bare for the reader. We pour our whole selves into the page and then hand it to strangers and hope that is speaks to them. And fear that it won’t.

That fear—that tiny seed of doubt that you will never be good enough, that your writing will be rejected, that you will face ridicule, that you will never taste success—can fester inside you until you are locked up with it.

We all have tapes in our heads that play when we have doubt or when we are trying something new. Some of those tapes can be disruptive and lead us into a spiral of negative self-talk. We’re terrible. Our writing is bad. We have no original ideas.

Part of being an artist, of creating for others, is learning to insulate yourself from negativity. We love it when readers tell us that we have made a connection, but you have to know that your writing is good enough even without constant accolades. Bad reviews will come. You have to learn to tune them out, and more importantly to never keep a copy of the tape to play in your head as you work on the next story.

If anxiety has taken over and paralyzed your writing, you need to take control back. Remember why you began writing in the first place—because you love stories and want to share them with others.

Seek out the support of other writers. A writing group can be a wonderful way to realize that the tapes you are playing are wrong. Finding a supportive group to cheer your successes and help you when doubt rears its head can make a world of difference.

Make sure that your goals and deadlines are realistic. Demanding from your writing that you hit the bestseller list in two weeks is going to set you up for disappointment and doubt, but so is expecting that you will write 5000 words a day and finish a novel every 20 days. Set small, attainable goals and hold yourself accountable for your progress.

Depression—When It Is Not About Writing at All

Sometimes your inability to write doesn’t have to do with any of these things. Some of the hallmark symptoms of depression, especially the inability to concentrate and the lack of interest in activities you once found pleasurable, can be mistaken by authors as writers’ block. Depression is a serious illness that affects millions of people from all walks of life. With depression, it can feel as though your life is slipping away. That it is robbing you of everything you once thought was important. That you will never regain what you’ve lost.

If you are suffering from depression, please don’t suffer alone. There are resources available to help. You are valuable to the world. You make a difference in the lives of others, especially as an author. Depression will lie to you and tell you that no one will care. That you are a burden. That your contributions are not important. None of those things are true. You, and the stories inside you, are a gift to the world.

If you are struggling with depression, please ask for help. Here are some resources that might be of use to you:

• https://www.nami.org/Learn-More/Mental-Health-Conditions/Depression • https://adaa.org/living-with-anxiety/ask-and-learn/resources • https://www.betterhelp.com/ • https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

The Suicide Prevention Lifeline also has a telephone number that is staffed by people who understand and can help. Their number is: 1-800-273-8255.

You are not alone.

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In a Pro-’Brexit’ Corner of Britain, Impatience to Be Done With It

By Katrin Bennhold, NY Times, Jan. 29, 2017

ROMFORD, England--At the greyhound track in Romford the mood is tense. “Think big,” one racecourse employee breathes into my ear, referring not to life in general but to dog No. 6, a muzzled male he reckons has a chance to win.

I watch as fellow bettors nibble on soggy fish and chips and study their betting cards, and as bookmakers write and rewrite the odds on their whiteboards. It is raining.

The scene could not be more English, and that is fitting: Romford is where wealthy London becomes not-so-wealthy Essex, a county that prides itself on its ancient Englishness--not the upper-class variety with clipped private school accents but that of “patriotic, hard-working people who might describe themselves as working class,” says Andrew Rosindell, the local member of Parliament, a Conservative.

Seven months after a referendum vote to leave the European Union, many in Romford also describe themselves as impatient.

There is impatience with Supreme Court judges, who last week affirmed a lower-court ruling that the government must seek the approval of Parliament before starting talks for the so-called Brexit. (“Enemies of the people,” one woman commented matter of factly, echoing a recent tabloid headline.)

And there is impatience with Prime Minister Theresa May, who outlined her vision of a clean break with the European Union this month and promised to begin exit negotiations in March, but is distrusted here because she once backed the campaign to remain in the bloc.

With 10 minutes to go until the first race of the night, the conversation at the greyhound track turns to Brexit.

“What is taking them so long?” one man laments.

“There will be an uprising if nothing comes to fruition,” another predicts darkly.

“Wait, we haven’t left yet?” a third asks. “But we voted out!”

Romford and the Borough of Havering were so eager for Brexit that the local council voted for it five months before everyone else--in a motion last January proposed by Lawrence Webb, the local representative of the anti-European U.K. Independence Party. A well-judged stunt: politically unbinding, widely mocked in the metropolitan press but a sign of things to come.

Earlier, Mr. Webb had picked me up from the train station. We strolled through Romford Market, immortalized in “Market Boy,” a play by David Eldridge. It is usually a bustling affair of 150 stalls and at least as many St. George’s crosses, he said, but in freezing temperatures it is rather more subdued.

Flanked by a modern shopping mall on one side and a 19th-century church on the other, the market has been in operation since 1247, a banner at its entrance claims. Under the Royal Charter granted by King Henry III, no other market is permitted to set up within a radius of six and two-thirds miles (apparently the distance a sheep can walk in a day). So old is Romford that the River Rom was named after the town, rather than the other way around.

But for all that proud tradition, Romford isn’t what it used to be, Mr. Webb says. People work harder than five years ago, but earn less. They worry about rising rents and their children’s education. They are concerned that recent immigrants from the European Union are jumping the line in getting public services.

I tell him that in central London some people are hoping for regrets among those who voted for Brexit, for a realization that leaving Europe would make everyone poorer, that it had all been a terrible mistake.

“Some of the people you meet at dinner parties in London have their head so deep up their backsides they can’t see the light of day,” Mr. Webb says. “I just got off the phone with a family evicted from their temporary accommodation after they lost their council house. Landlords are throwing people out. That’s what is happening.”

The Supreme Court decision last week has only deepened the distrust of “London elites,” he says. And if that ruling has revived hopes of slowing down or softening Brexit in the British capital, a mere 45-minute train ride southwest of here, in Romford people talk about speeding things up.

“The plan is to delay, delay, delay so they never have to go through with Brexit,” Mr. Webb says. Article 50, the legal procedure that, once triggered, sets off a two-year irreversible countdown for the divorce from the European Union, “could have been triggered on Day 1 if they were serious about leaving.”

Could there be an uprising, as some locals have predicted?

“No, the fight will be at the ballot box,” Mr. Webb says. “You watch,” he adds. “If the Conservatives betray the people again, it’s UKIP’s gain. That’s what happened in America.”

If people here have not been tempted too much by UKIP so far, it is in part because Mr. Rosindell, the local member of Parliament, is as nationalist and anti-European as anyone.

His office is in the Margaret Thatcher House, named after Britain’s first female prime minister, who once championed the common European market but toward the end of her career became a Euroskeptic, banging her handbag for effect. Mr. Rosindell recounts proudly how he once took an aging Mrs. Thatcher greyhound racing. (She had her picture taken with a dog that--unbeknown to her, one must assume--was called Tom Euro.)

“Welcome to the heartland of the Thatcherite ideal,” Mr. Rosindell beams when I step inside. “We value tradition, family, nation, the flag, heritage and monarchy.”

That went without saying. There are 44 British flags, or Union Jacks, in the hallway; six portraits of Mrs. Thatcher; three portraits of Queen Elizabeth II; and a bust of Winston Churchill. Buster, Mr. Rosindell’s Staffordshire bull terrier, a popular English breed, wears a Union Jack waistcoat. Even the rug on the floor is the British flag.

“Is that not disrespectful?” I ask as I wipe my muddy boots on it.

No, Mr. Rosindell says, it’s good to have a “sense of humor about these things.”

“We have Union Jack bikinis and Union Jack underpants,” he says cheerfully. It is a sign of “modern” patriotism, he says.

The bunting in his office is red, white and blue. “Why the French national colors?” I joke.

“They’re not French!”

“Russian?”

To be fair, he chuckles. Born in 1966, the year England won the World Cup (“A good year to be born, a good year to be English,” he says), Mr. Rosindell believes strongly that Britain should leave the European Union and that “anything that is seen to derail the process will be seen as a betrayal by the elites.”

In the nearby market, some stallholders count Mr. Rosindell as part of that elite. “Air Miles Andy,” they call him. Many say they do not bother voting anymore and went to the polling station for the Brexit referendum only because, for once, they felt their vote could make a difference.

“Choosing between Labour and Conservative is like choosing one disease over another,” says Steve Wickenden, Sticky to his friends, who sells meat next to a painted English flag with the slogan “Come on England.”

A father of three, Mr. Wickenden is not really worried about the dire economic consequences from Brexit he hears about on television. “You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs,” he says. “We’ve broken the eggs. Now we need to make the omelet.”

Back at the greyhound track, the anticipation has been building for an hour. Finally the gates open, and a fake orange hare is sent whizzing along a rail on the outside boundary of the racing track at 33 miles an hour, six hounds in hot pursuit.

The noise level briefly rises. It is over in seconds. “A bit like sex,” one bookie comments.

The dog called Think Big came in second to last. No matter. People in Romford have had it with thinking big. Little England might be an insult elsewhere. Not here.

“Globalization, Europe, and where has that got us?” scoffs the bookie. “Nothing wrong with Little England.”