#but i also nurse crazy notions of finishing it

[cpericardium]

this is a small part of the last big thing I tried to animate (2020) before I fucking died btw. don't tell anybody. DON'T show wildbow.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter 3

Title: Safe and Warm

Warnings: brief mention of child sexual abuse. Very brief.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

“You should have gotten these looked at BEFORE you came home.”

She sits on his stomach; knee on either side of his body and a bottle of peroxide, package of cotton balls, a pair of tweezers, and a tube of healing ointment rest on his chest. With all of the kids finally settled for the night and the house tidied and every last plate, cup and piece of silverware in the dishwasher, it’s finally their turn to relax. A quick soak in the hot tub while sipping drinks; one last glass of wine for her and a coffee for him. Still damp bodies clad in bathrobes as they sat on the couch; eating ice cream straight out of the carton while relaxing in front of the heat and ambiance given off by the gas fireplace. All conversation steering clear away from anything job related. Talking instead about Christmas and all the things that still need to be done; present wrapping, last minute gift grabbing, decorating. The kids also have jam packed ‘to do’ lists; skating, seeing the tree at Rockefeller, sledding, visiting Santa and the reindeer at Central Park. Christmas Day is spent with just the nine of them; the kids playing with their gifts and spending time outside, a traditional dinner that they’ve become quite the professionals at preparing together. The following day they’ll travel into Queens and spend the day with Ovi and Riya and their little family; two ‘grandkids’ that will be loved upon and spoiled senseless. New Years is usually spent quietly at home; takeout and alcoholic beverages and entertaining the kids with board games. This year plans have changed; Ovi’s wedding at The James New York in Soho.

As exciting as the latter is and as much as he does enjoy his time in New York City -the happiness and excitement evident on his wife and children’s faces more than enough to erase any of his own discomfort- it will be nice to get home. Back to their slice of paradise; the sun and the sand and the privacy and the feeling of security that comes with owning so much land. They’ll have a second Christmas; an informal get together with friends with a cookout on the beach and a ‘Secret Santa’ gift exchange. Work will be put on the back burner; no calls or emails from clients returned until the kids go back to school, the bookstore in good hands under the supervision of the two college students Esme had hired a year ago. Business has been good; exceeding even her wildest dreams and expectations. Already a well loved staple in Cooktown; customers loving the wide array of books and magazines, the outdoor courtyard and the comfortable couches and chairs allotted for those simply there to relax. Reading their purchases or the kindles set up for free use and indulging in the variety of cold and hot drinks and baked goods. The treats are mostly prepared by Tanner who has become quite the little chef and baker; finding his ‘place’ in the kitchen and never happier than when he’s creating some kind of dish or dessert from scratch. He’s also in charge of biweekly book reviews; picking a title to read and then preparing a well written report to go along with it. He’s become quite the local celebrity because of it; fan mail arriving on the daily from kids all over town and those who may have visited during family travels.

If anyone had told Tyler thirteen years ago that he’d even still be alive, let alone living THIS life, he would have told them they were insane. Laughing off the notion at ever being a husband and a father again; too much of a mess and certainly way too much of a liability for anyone to ever take a chance on. It’s weird how quick things can change. How one chance meeting with someone as equally broken and damaged as you can change the entire course of your future. Looking at you in ways that no one has ever has; willing to take on the enormous amounts of baggage and seeing past all your faults and your rough spots and jagged edges and giving you a future you never imagined even in your wildest dreams.

“There wasn’t a reason to get them looked after. They’re just scratches; branches getting a hold of me when I was in the bush.”

“Some of them are pretty deep. And I know you tried when you were in the shower, but there’s stuff stuck in some of them. Dirt or wood or something. Aren’t they sore?”

“They’re SCRATCHES. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse.”

“They’re a mess is what they are.” She picks up the tweezers; eyes narrowing as she leans over him and plucks pieces of debris out of one of the wounds. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t things supposed to go down in the city?”

“They did. In Laos.”

“I thought it was going to be the same in Cambodia. You let me read what Anil sent you. I’m pretty sure things were supposed to happen in Phnom Penh? How’d you end up going from there into the jungle?”

“There was a change of plans.”

She smirks. “Obviously.”

“You know how it is, things don’t always go the way we want.”

“I’d say nine times out of ten, they don’t. Seriously though, your face is a wreck. You should have gotten this all cleaned up hours ago. BEFORE you got on a plane home. What if they get infected? You don’t know what’s in that jungle. They could have some crazy poisonous plant life or something. What if you got into something like THAT?”

“I think it’s safe to say we’d know something like that by now. What are you so squeamish about? You’ve seen me in worse shape.”

“Now THAT’S an understatement. Have you ever thought I just don’t like seeing you banged up and scratched up? Have you ever thought maybe I’ve had just about enough of all of that? Can’t I nurse you back to health from something else for a change? Like...I don’t know...the man flu?”

“You always complain when I get sick. That I’m too needy.”

“I have never once said you’re too needy. I have, however, complained about how whiny you get. How you come down with a head cold and act like you’re dying. How do you go through the things you have and survive what you’ve survived, and think a cold will be the cause of your demise?”

“Hey, those colds get pretty bad.”

“Worse than…” Pausing, she sits straight up and drops the tweezers onto the bed, then soaks a cotton ball with peroxide. “...you know what? I’m not even going to finish that sentence because that will only bring bad juju. Talking about all of that? Revisiting it? Nothing good will come of that. And we need good juju, don’t you think?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Who? Me? No. Maybe. Just a little. Is a whole bottle of wine for oneself considered drunk?”

“For normal people, yeah. For you…”

“Look, I had a rough day. In fact, it’s been a brutal FOUR days. And right now? Well right now, I should be getting laid. Or at the very least, have my husband going down on me. And what I’m doing? Playing nursemaid. And not in a fun, sexy way either. Not the kind of playing nursemaid that comes with little outfits and orgasms.”

He grins. “You ARE drunk.”

“I’m just saying, I had other plans for this evening and picking pieces of the Cambodian jungle out of your face wasn’t part of it.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm...hmmm…”

“And I’d rather be doing other stuff too, but…”

“But the shit hit the fan and everything got fucked up and you ended up doing God knows what, doing God knows where. I’m not even going to ask how it went. I think I’m scared to hear the answer. It was obviously a dumpster fire if you went from the capital city of Cambodia to the bowels of hell.”

“There were a couple...snags.”

She returns to the task of investigating and cleaning the various scratches that mar his face and neck. “Anil let on everything went great.”

“Probably just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Was there something for me to worry about?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been involved in way worse things. It was pretty straight forward. Two easy hits.”

“First one went okay?”

“Exactly the way it should have.”

“Second one?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask?”

“You don’t want me asking?”

“I don’t care if you ask. You just said you weren’t going to because you were afraid of what you might hear.”

“Do I have anything to be afraid of?”

“Esme, seriously? Do you want to know or not? It wasn’t THAT bad. I’m here, aren’t I? In one piece?”

She nods.

“It honestly wasn't that big of a disaster. Things got a little fucked up. The second one didn’t go the way it should have. I had to make some decisions; change some shit around. The Mark wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I had to find out where he was and I had to figure out how to make things work.”

“Well good thing it WAS you that Anil asked. Because it probably would have been a lot worse. At least you know what you’re doing; you can think on your feet and stay calm and focused. A change like that? That would have thrown other people off. They probably wouldn’t have been able to get the second guy. They would have been too frazzled. That kind of change would have totally thrown them off.”

“Are you speaking highly of me, wife?”

“I am. I tend to speak very highly of you. All the time. To everyone. Even when I’m picking pieces of Cambodia out of your face.” She grabs the tweezers and unceremoniously inserts the tips into a large scratch at the side of his left eye; yanking out a piece of wood. “And it’s a nice face, by the way. So I don’t particularly like you coming home all messed up.”

“Like I said, I’ve had worse.”

“I will give you that.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence; his hands resting on her thighs as she continues to work at disinfecting and cleaning the scratches and her fingertips rub wound aftercare ointment into his skin. And he admires her as she does so. That steely look of determination on her face; lips set in a thin line and her eyes slightly narrowed and her hands steady yet gentle. And she looks so beautiful in that moment; in the mixture of moonlight and the glow given off by the bedside lamps. Hair pushed into a messy ‘up sweep’; held together by various clips -colourful and unicorn themed, ‘borrowed’ from Addie’s room- and bobby pins. Her face freshly cleaned and scrubbed; bearing the lingering scent of the grapefruit and pomegranate body wash she’d fallen in love with months ago. Clad in what she considers pyjamas; a faded and slightly tattered plaid button down shirt he’d worn during their Colorado days that is enormous on her tiny frame.

It’s been just over twelve years. Since he’d first laid eyes on her; standing on his front porch in The Kimberley in her little denim shorts and that yellow tank top that clung to her like a second skin. He’d known right away that he was in trouble; feeling things he hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time when she so much glanced in his direction and offered a small, almost nervous smile. And it would take him nearly ten years to admit what she’d probably known not long after their initial meeting: that his heart was hers from the very first day.

“You’re beautiful.” He says now, and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Are YOU drunk?”

“I haven’t drank in five years. I’m truthful.”

“Maybe your eyesight is worse than you think,” she teases, and dabs a peroxide dampened cotton ball against the scratches on his forehead.

“Or maybe you just hate compliments. Even twelve years into things.”

“You know I don’t handle compliments well. Even now. I know that doesn’t make sense, considering we HAVE been together that long and you’re the master of compliments and sweet talk, but that’s just who I am. It’s just me.”

“I will break you yet.”

“You’ve been trying for over a decade. Same way you’ve been trying to make an honest woman out of me.”

“Come on, at least give me THAT. At least admit THAT was successful.”

“Fine…” she leans down to peck his lips. “I’ll let you have your small victories. You’re still going out tomorrow? With Tanner?”

He nods. “It’s our thing.”

“He’s so excited. He’s been talking about it non stop since we got here. Apparently he’s been writing a lot. He’s got A LOT to show you.”

“Yeah, he told me. Something about crazy dreams he’s been having. He’s so fucking smart, Me. Way smarter than I am. He’s got your brain pan for sure.”

“He is far more intelligent than I ever was at that age. His brain is just...I don’t know. It’s beautiful and it’s brilliant. And it’s kind of scary at the same time. I mean, he’s only ten. And look where he’s at. Not even a special school is a big enough challenge for him. He is so far ahead of all of those kids. What happens when he’s too far ahead? When that place doesn’t have what he needs anymore? Then what? He’s already reading at a high school senior level. And his math? His science? You’ve seen his marks. They’ve got him doing things that fourteen and fifteen year olds are learning. And he’s passing it all with flying colours. Soon they’re not going to have what he needs. What then?”

“We find somewhere else.”

“Where? There’s nothing where we are. And we’re not moving. We just aren’t. We’ve put way too much into that house and that land. And we love it too much. So do the kids. We can’t upset their lives like that.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll find something. Someone. There’s always a way, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me? Where there’s a will, there’s a way?”

“When I told you that I wasn’t expecting to have a genius child on my hands. And I know it sounds like I’m bitching. That it sounds like I’m not proud of him.”

“It doesn’t sound like that, Me. At all.”

“Because I am. Proud of him. He’s insanely smart and he’s beautiful and he’s just this incredible little being that I don’t feel I even deserve. But I’m scared. For him. Because he isn’t like everyone else. He never has been. And I know we should celebrate that and celebrate who he is and nurture it and encourage it. But it fucking terrifies me. Someone like Tanner out in the real world. Because he’s NOT like us. Or his brothers and sisters. Or ninety five percent of society. He’s sensitive and he’s kind and he has this huge heart. And I’m scared what’s going to happen to him. Just for being who he is.”

“He’s ten, Me. We have years before we have to worry about anything like that. It’s going to be a long time before he’s out of the house. He’s smart as hell, but you’re right; he’s not like everyone else. Maturity wise? He’s a lot younger. He’s not ten in a lot of ways. He’s going to be with us for a bit. Longer than the rest of them.”

“I just don't want him hating who he is. I don’t want him growing up and hating himself. He’s already told you that. About how he doesn’t like his brain and how it works. How he doesn’t like being different.”

“That’s mostly when he’s pissed that he can’t do the things that TJ does. Or because he’s so much smaller. He has his moments; where he wishes he was like his brother. Didn’t you have moments like that growing up? Wishing you could be someone different?”

“Of course. We all do. I’m sure you did.”

“Fuck, practically every damn day. He’s going to be fine, Me. He’s just a little boy. And he’ll be a little boy in some ways for longer. It is what it is. He’ll be okay. So will we.”

“You are so much better at this than I am,” Esme laments, and tends to screwing the cap onto the peroxide and moving all of the supplies and tools to the mattress. “You’re so much better with him. You have been since the very beginning. Who was the strong one when we got the diagnosis? Who was the one that DIDN’T go into a severe depression and the seven stages of grief? I mean, we suspected it and I STILL had a hard time. I’m his mother. And I struggled then and I’m struggling now. What kind of parent does that? FEELS that?”

“One that loves their kid more than life itself. Who worries about them and is scared for them because they know how fucking cruel the world can be.”

“You’ve just been so much better than I have. You’ve handled it better. Me? I’m just a mess. And not a hot one either.”

“I think you’re way too hard on yourself. You’re a good mom. You’re an amazing mom. Just because you’re having a hard time with this doesn’t mean you’re a shitty parent. Just means you love him.”

“I do. Love him. He’s my Nugget. And I hate that he struggles. That he doubts himself. That he shit talks himself sometimes.”

“Gee, I wonder where he gets THAT from.”

Smirking, she picks up the tweezers and points them at him. “Don’t make me stick these in your eye.”

“I’m just saying…” he plucks the instrument from her hand and tosses it onto the bedside table, then reaches up to push loose strands of her away from her face. “...he does get some things from you. And you do like to shit talk yourself.”

“I’m working on it.”

“For the last twelve years?”

“So I’m a slow learner. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Why are you like this?”

His calloused palms rest on the sides of her face; thumbs brushing along the tops of her cheekbones. “Like what?”

“So good to me. Why are you like that?”

“Oh I don’t know, Me. Might have to do with the fact that you’re my wife and the mother of my children. My SEVEN children. And maybe...just maybe...it has something to do with the fact that I’m wildly and crazily in love with you.”

“Still? Even after twelve years?”

“Even MORE after twelve years. More and more every day, actually.”

“God I love you,” she declares, then stretches out along his body and buries her face in the favourite place of hers; the warm nook between neck and shoulder. “I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he wraps both arms around her slender body. “Ditto.”

She laughs at his response; placing a kiss to the sensitive spot below his ear and then pushes her fingers through his hair. It’s longer now. Often messy and often unruly; sides and back no longer shaved right down to the skin. She claims it’s her second favourite look of his; liking the fact that there’s something to ‘grab onto’ during more intimate moments.

He feels the tickle or her lashes as her eyes flicker closed, followed by the long, content sigh that she releases. And for several long minutes they lay in silence, one of his hands moving up to comb through her hair, the other slipping under the hem of her shirt; knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine.

“Me?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is muffled against the side of his neck.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I really DO like snuggling with you and all that. But right now? Right now I’m really horny and I really want to fuck.”

Laughing, she playfully tugs on his hair and pulls back to look at him. “Husband, you’re nothing if not brutally honest.”

“Wanna have sex?”

Grinning, she leans in to press a kiss to his lips. “Actually,” she says. “I do.”

****

They lay in a tangled mess of wrinkled sheets and sweaty limbs; listening to the wind that rattles the windows and the soft patter of ice pellets and snow against the glass. Both on their sides with her back tucked into his front; her nails lightly and repeatedly skimming along the forearm that rests just under her breasts. His breath is warm against the nape of her neck and she enjoys the different sensations against her skin; the juxtaposition of soft, moist lips and the roughness of his beard. He wears it much shorter now; neatly trimmed and groomed and a far cry from the ‘lumberjack days’ when they’d lived in Colorado. Back when his body was thicker; extra weight around the middle and his muscles more bulky. He’s much more defined now. Tall and lean and athletic; broad shoulders and wide back, a sharp cut to his waist and beautifully detailed abs.

Forty seven years old and he’s in the best shape he’s ever been; a near mirror image of what he’d looked like at thirty five when they’d first met. She remembers that day well. Glancing up from where she’d crouched down on the porch to shower attention on his dog and finding those blue eyes riveted on her; intense and electric and filled with both curiosity and thinly veiled annoyance. He wasn’t used to company, and certainly didn’t seem to like the idea of a complete stranger being brought straight to his doorstep.

Nik had told her just the bare minimum; ex special forces, a host of personal baggage and addiction issues, intense and withdrawn at his best. But word travels when you’re in the ‘circle’; the job a relatively tight knit considering the amount of people caught up in it and the number of countries that are serviced. She’d heard the stories; tales of fearlessness and brutality and exceptional skills. And while she’d thought Nik’s idea was ridiculous and that it would never work, she’d been intrigued as well; wanting to put a face to the name and to all the rumours and the whispers she’d been subjected to. Other than his towering height and those muscles that strained under the sleeves of his shirt and the host of tattoos and scars, he hadn’t been that intimidating; offering just a brief twitch of the lips in lieu of a smile, his hand engulfing hers when he quickly and willing shook it in greeting. There was something welcoming about him despite the lack of conversation; opening up a little as soon as Nik stepped outside and offering her a drink. Those eyes ever so slightly sparkling and a small smirk on his lips when she’d downed the glass of scotch; making a comment about being surprised a ‘wee thing like her’ could handle her liquor so well and then pouring her another. Even chuckling a little when she’d commented on his place of residence; modest and simple, a chicken probably a far better roommate than any human she’d ever shared living quarters with.

Things had actually started during the two day stay just outside of Dhaka; a high end hotel that Nik had procured for final team meetings and strategy sessions. Meeting up -by sheer chance and not by plan- at the establishment's bar; sharing both a table out on the patio and pitcher of beer and tray full of tequila shots. There’d also been a kiss. Or, as close to a kiss as you could get. When he’d walked her back to her room and they’d stood in the hallway; slightly inebriated and suddenly somewhat anxious and nervous around each other. Dinner had been casual and comfortable. He’d smiled and even laughed and teased her about being a total enigma; so small and delicate looking despite her time in the Corps and having such a reputation for being tenacious and no nonsense. They had shared stories of growing up in Colorado and Australia and he’d been relatively talkative; either encouraged by her own openness and chattiness or the mixture of the booze he’d consumed and the meds he’d taken. Yet suddenly they were both at a loss for words and things seemed awkward and uncomfortable, and she’d stuttered and stammered while asking him if he’d like to join her inside and then furiously blushing when he’d exactly accepted.

She can still remember what it had felt like; when she’d drunkenly teetered and stumbled when attempting to unlock her door and his arm had curled around her waist to keep her on her feet. His body had been warm and solid against hers; breath hot and moist on the back of her neck. His eyes had been locked on hers when she turned to face him, heart hammering in her chest as he leaned in to kiss her. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Even something so simple as a kiss. And it had been even longer since she’d wanted someone that badly; physically aching and desperate to feel his hands and his mouth on her.

But it had never happened. In a brief moment of clarity, he’d backed away. Doing nothing more than pushing her hair behind her ears before backing away.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said. “I can’t do this to you.”

They never spoke of that moment again. Not even when things had crossed that line in Dhaka. It’s been just over twelve years and neither have brought it up. It didn’t matter anymore; the awkwardness they’d felt, the glimmer of life that she’d seen in his eyes, the words that he’d uttered. Things had changed. Drastically. Marriage and children and a somewhat happily ever after.

His free arm slips between her and the mattress. Coming to rest along her collarbone; fingers splayed over the top of her right breast, thumb repeatedly brushing along the hollow of her throat. “You alright?”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his and moves their joined hands down to her stomach. “More than alright. You? You okay?”

“I’m good. Is that what you wanted? Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Exceeded them, actually. I continue to be impressed by you. Your track record for incredible sex is almost a hundred percent.”

He raises his head from his pillow. “Almost?”

“You keep forgetting about that time after Kyle’s bachelor party. When you were drunk. When you got off and I didn’t and then had the goddamn gall to pass out. On top of me. Your poor little wife that’s a foot shorter and at that time, over a hundred pounds lighter.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I haven’t made up for it? It’s been ten years since that. I haven’t made amends yet?”

“You’re getting there,” she teases, and then yelps and giggles when his teeth sink into her shoulder. “By the way, I think the neighbour knows you’re here.”

“You know what I’m surprised about? That the kids didn’t wake up.”

“Maybe they’ve gotten so used to it, they just sleep through it now.”

“Or maybe they’re hiding under their covers, totally traumatized.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be so good at what you do. Maybe you shouldn’t be the king of multiple orgasms. Screaming ones at that.”

“You’d rather I didn’t get you off at all?”

“Don’t get carried away. We don’t need to go to THAT big of an extreme.”

“We can resort back to a pillow over the face. Or my hand over your mouth.”

“Remember that time in Dhaka? When the people in the next room complained to the manager about the noise? He was so embarrassed; when he came up to our room.”

“I do. And I remember the first time we went to Phuket. I never introduced myself to the people in the next suite, but they seemed to know my first name.”

“They were just jealous. I guess neither of them ever experienced really good sex. And speaking of which; we’re going to have to change the sheets before we go to sleep.”

“You can sleep on that part. That’s YOUR wet spot. On YOUR side of the bed.”

“You’re the one who made it happen. You should be the one to clean up the mess.”

He grins against the nape of her neck. “It’s a good mess though.”

“A very good mess,” she says, and then rolls over to face him; pressing herself tightly against his chest and reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. “You alright?”

“Fine. Why?” He skims her fingertips along the length of her spine; pausing to trace the tattoo that decorates the small of her back before moving back up again. “Didn’t it seem like I was alright? Did I seem like I wasn’t having fun?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. You’re different; during sex. When something is bothering you, you do things differently. Not in a BAD way. Just in a different way. You’re more aggressive. Rougher than usual.”

“You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No. You never do. It was perfect. YOU were perfect. It was just...different. You were different. I’ve been with you for twelve years. It’s one of the signs I’ve come to recognize; one of the things that change when something is bugging you.”

Tyler grins. “You’re good.”

“Are you going to tell me? What’s going on? You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he admits, and then presses a kiss to her forehead before rolling over onto his back.

“I think you should.” Esme slides closer to him, propping herself up onto her elbow. “I think it’s good for you; talking about things that bother you. We’ve learned over the last twelve years, right? That things are better...that WE’RE better...when you don’t keep shit inside.”

Sighing heavily, he runs both hands over his face; wincing at the discomfort in both back and shoulder when he puts his hands behind his head.

“Is that what is? Pain? Did you get hurt? Do you need more meds? Do you…?”

“No pain. Just some tightness. I don’t need any more meds. I’m fine.”

“Did you take them while you were gone? ALL of them?”

“Babe, I’ve been taking them for five years. I wouldn’t fuck it up now.”

“I’m not saying you would. I’m just worried about you. I know something is wrong and I know it’s better for you NOT to keep quiet about it. So tell me. Please. Do your wife a solid and talk to her.”

“Didn’t I just slip you a solid? Twice?”

She scowls. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s nothing. Me. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, but this is something involving you and I worry about you. Don’t do this, okay? Let’s not get back into old habits. I know you don’t want that. Just like I don’t want it. Tell me. Please.”

He sighs once more, briefly closing his eyes.

“Is it the job?” Gentle fingertips trace the roman numeral tattoo on the front of his right shoulder. “ Did something go wrong? Other than a change in venue?”

“No. Other than that, things went fine.”

“But it IS about the job.”

Tyler nods.

“I’m not a mind reader, babe. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good. Something DID go wrong, didn’t it.”

“No. Nothing went wrong. It’s just...the people...the Marks.”

“They didn’t die or…?”

“Oh they died. You don’t survive a gunshot in the middle of the forehead.”

“So other than the chance of scenery, nothing went wrong and both Marks died but..”

“It’s who they were. Why they had to be killed. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I do. Because it’s bothering you and I don’t want you carrying that around. That’s never a good thing; you burying things. So yes. I want to hear it. You didn’t tell me much before you left; just that they were pieces of shit and they needed to be wiped out. Other than that…”

“They were the lowest of the low, Me. You can’t get lower than these guys. And I’ve dealt with some pretty huge pieces of shit. These guys? Worst I’ve ever gone against. By far.”

“Worse than Asif and Mahajan?”

“Considering how personal they made things and what they were going to do to my family, no one is worse than them. But if I take the personal stuff out of it, these guys are up there.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising. I didn’t think anyone could come close to those two.”

“The guns and the drugs? That shit was bad enough. They destroyed a lot of lives; killed a lot of people. But the shit I found AFTER I got there? About these guys? About other things they were up to? It’s fucked, Me. It’s fucked and it’s sick and twisted and I don’t think you need to know about it.”

“Well I think I do. You don’t have to shoulder this alone. It’s better if you don’t. Just tell me. I have big shoulders. Well, maybe not LITERALLY. What did you hear? About them?”

“Babe…”

“Tyler, tell me. Don’t do this. Not if you have plans on getting laid the rest of the time we’re here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I would. I’m not afraid to pull out the big guns. So either you tell me, or you suffer. Simple as that.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Tell me.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “Please.”

“When I got there and talked to the guy who hired Anil, things got worse. The Marks were even bigger pieces of shit than I thought. They’d both been married a handful of times. And put each one of their wives in the hospital. More than twice. A couple of them even ended up dead. There was never any proof that these guys did it, but…”

“But it’s pretty obvious.”

Tyler nods. “And then I heard about the kids. Not just kids they didn’t know. But kids related to them. Cousins, nieces, nephews. Their OWN kids.”

“Just beaten on them or…?”

“No. Not just beating on them. That’s bad enough. But this?”

“Sexual stuff.”

“Yeah. Sexual stuff.”

“Wow..” she sighs heavily, a fingertip skimming along the chain he wears around his neck. “...that IS the lowest of the low.”

“It just hit home. HARD. Made me think of you and the kids. Made being away from home a lot more difficult. And it was difficult enough already.”

“I’m sorry. That you had to hear all of that. But for it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you that took care of them. Anyone else ran the risk of screwing shit up. At least when you do things, you finish them That’s a bright spot, right? That you DID get to be the one?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just fucked me up. Mentally. Made me think of our kids. I swear to God, Me. If anything like that ever happens to them...if I ever find out that someone has touched them like that? I will fucking lose it. I will snap and I will fuck them up. I will torture them in all the worst ways possible. The most painful ways I know how. And then I’ll kill them. With my bare hands. If anyone ever messes with my kids…”

“Don’t think about that, Tyler. Don’t torture yourself like that. I mean, I think about it too. From time to time. And how I’d go nuts and kill someone. But don’t dwell on it, okay? Because our kids are fine. They’re warm and they're safe in their beds. And they always will be safe as long as you’re around. You know I always say you make me feel safe and protected? Well you do the same for them. You always have. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? They love you and they trust you. And you’re an amazing daddy.”

“I just want them to be safe. That’s all I want. Them safe. YOU safe.”

“And we ARE. Safe. As long as we’re with you, we’re fine. We don’t worry about a damn thing when you’re around. So please…” Esme presses a kiss to his cheek and nuzzles the end of her nose against his ear. “...no more dwelling. You got it out; you talked about it. You don’t need to think about it anymore.”

Running his hand through her hair, he tangles his fingers in the dark tresses and gently pulls her head back; lips covering hers in a long, slow kiss.

“Mmm…” she murmurs into his mouth, then sighs happily when he pulls away. “...that was...nice.”

“That was very nice.”

“You think you have one more in you? I still have some expectations that need to be met.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Good.” She throws her arms around his neck and rolls onto her back, kissing him hungrily as she pulls him down on top of her. Nails digging into his skin and her legs wrapping around his waist; ankles locking at the small of his back and a devilish grin playing on her lips when he pulls back to look at her. “Husband, you need to make love to me again.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

[kerice]

Painful Memories...

I came across some old photos. Some of my wedding. I can look at these pictures now with less emotion. There is sadness but I really can’t identify with that person in the photo anymore. Does this mean I have detached myself? I remember being there. Have I healed from the wounds that are still painful to mention? This day, more than 17 years ago, was a start of a major trial in my life. Having the courage to work through the pain of recovery has helped give me the drive and tenacity to overcome financial debt and to succeed in school. 

My academic journey started back in 1996, academic achievement did not come easy to me in high school, but I wanted to get a good job, so a few years after high school I started classes at Seattle Central College, in Seattle Washington. I then had a child at age 25 and I became a single mom. I am always inspired by women who say that without hesitation, trepidation or feeling less than women who have a partner. When my son was about three years old, I transferred to Bellevue College. They had a work study program where I could work at the school daycare (where my son was) and also work on my career goals, while having my son close. Due to the early birth of my second son on Nov. 27th, I was unable to finish my last two weeks of course work in the fall of 2003. As a result, I received a failed grade in my personal enrichment courses of French 201 and Algebra II. However my GPA for my science classes were within the range they needed to be. But, even so, I had to quit my job and dropped out of college since my son was born two weeks before the final exams. 

On the day of the wedding, It was a beautiful, warm day in September 2004, I remember, the kids were dancing and laughing, the lakeside property was gorgeous. I remember my family and friends being around me, it felt like a different life. I don’t like going back in my thoughts. The pain of those memories has become less as time’s gone on. To go from such a happy day celebrating with the person I wanted to live my life with to days later, almost losing my life to this person. This is a story, no one wants to tell. Four days after my wedding, I was a victim of a road rage incident, where I was physically assaulted and (along with my infant son) nearly killed. My husband of four days was charged with reckless endangerment and assault and then arrested. A passerby had seen the incident and called 911. I still can’t believe this happened to me. He never apologized for what he had put us through, we never saw him again except at a distance. I then started therapy for the physical pain that was inflicted on me, the emotional pain would be a much longer process of healing.

When you go through the family court system and testify in front of everyone, what you go through, it is very difficult. After the shock wears off, the shame sets in, it’s hard to talk about. They (the court advocates) encourage you to talk, saying that it saves lives. I felt lost and defeated. I was forced to go through court ordered therapy, which I knew, any invasive findings would be broadcast in court. I had to acknowledge other incidences of abuse that led up to the escalation to the road rage. I was faced with the reality of my own denial of what was happening to me. The excuses I would make to myself. He was just stressed out. Maybe it was a psychotic break? I couldn’t be objective or logical enough to begin to imagine why someone would do such things to a person they profess to love. I didn’t want a stomach ulcer on top of everything else. I was able to get a pro bono attorney for the first trial.  But after my ex-husband went to domestic violence treatment, there was a new trial. This was because, where there is “abusive use of conflict,” the courts don’t allow mediation to settle parenting plans. This put me in financial peril, and I have struggled financially  ever since. 

It’s been many years since the assault and arrest. I was vilified and blamed for what caused our separation to our community and friends. According to his account, it was all an exaggeration, a misunderstanding. I heard him say in court that I was crazy, emotionally unbalanced. Especially during the child custody proceedings. I was so afraid of him and what he would do to me. I couldn’t even comprehend fully what he was doing, who he even was. Was he my enemy now? He blamed me for getting him arrested, even though I had not been the one who called the police, but an anonymous stranger did! I felt alone, scared, traumatized. I hated having to go through the court hearings and hear the venomous words coming from him and his attorney. It made me feel crazy, out of my mind. I had to get away, I saw him everywhere, I was always looking over my shoulder. Sudden movements would make me jump. Flashes of the trauma would enter my mind. While driving my car, when I would see brake lights I would tense up and my heart would skip a beat. How could I even co-parent with this person? My Post Traumatic Stress was keeping me from moving beyond what happened to me, keeping me from moving forward. But I knew I had to somehow keep it together and be strong for my children. 

After the divorce, I was given permission to move out of state. In 2007, my brother, who lived in Northern Kentucky, offered me a job. Because of this, I was able to move out of state with my children. I am so grateful to my brother for his help in this transition. During this time, my father had entered retirement from the military out on the west coast. He and my mother were planning on moving to Cincinnati to help my brother with his business. The timing of the move was good since we would be able to have the support of my family, during this time of healing and transition. Upon my move, my ex was continuing to file motions at the Seattle court house. I had to hire an attorney, from out of state, to represent me and to respond to every motion filed. Within 5 years, he filed 12 motions that were all dismissed for lack of credibility. Even though he was ordered to pay my attorney’s fees, these orders were not enforced, therefore leading me to incur much debt over the years. With the two divorce trials costing $40,000 and the additional $10,000, my finances were in trouble. I had to ask my parents for help with these huge costs. Two years after the divorce, he stopped paying child support and my daycare costs exceeded $6,000. I had to ask my parents for help with the kids, which allowed me to work more hours to pay my debts. I have been used to working two or sometimes three jobs to get a handle on my finances. In 2015 I was able to receive vocational training so I could earn more per hour. 

I am a single parent living in the Cincinnati area for almost 14 years now. After much healing and hard work, I am anxious to continue my academic career goals. I am the proud parent of two well-adjusted young adults and I’ve had much experience juggling work, school and parenting. I also became the caretaker of my grandmother the last year of her life. In which I moved her into my home with my two children. During this time, as I partnered with the hospice care staff, I assisted in many nursing responsibilities. Reflecting back on this now, I feel that nursing is the field I belong in. During my time in Cosmetology school, I took on another caretaking job. I did this while managing my other full-time job. Then in 2018, I enrolled in an accelerated program at the Cincinnati School of Medical Massage. Where we had rigorous course work in A&P and Pathology. I also became a personal care assistant in 2018. I also currently work as a licensed Cosmetologist and LMT, as well as an STNA. 

I am happy to say that my domestic partner and fiancé is supportive of my desire to finish my nursing education. Over time I had developed a tougher exterior, not able to readily identify with my feelings. I was so guarded, out of necessity. An armor of survival. I find it more difficult to make friends, especially deep friendships that take invested time and effort. Letting people in feels too high of a risk at times, as the emotional scars surface. Where I attended massage school, they taught us what it means to be “semi-permeable.” The idea of boundary lines that define your personal space and the space for the client. If you are too closed off, then you won’t be able to tune into anyone else’s needs. This was a wonderful exercise for me in many ways. It’s helped me in my relationship with my children as well. In the past, I’ve heard awful comments directed towards me, anywhere from saying that I am a bad mother, to questions like, why didn’t I just get an abortion. Being on the other end of the parenthood journey, with my kids entering the adult world, I would say it was worth the pain, the struggle. We persevered, we are all tough as nails, I can see it from the work ethic my kids have. Even in the most ideal circumstances, children can still have issues. But seeing the love for me in their eyes is very moving. Watching them run around, playing and laughing is like watching my heart dancing outside of me. I wish that some things had been different for them. But through the struggle, we established a strong bond, which I believe will last for years to come. I don’t know who made this quote but it sums up so much. “A son makes love stronger, days shorter, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten and the future worth living for.” 

This trial has taught me to not be too quick to dismiss the notion that real love does heal our wounds. In my younger years I would have thought of that notion too trite. Having my children with me in my life has given me profound purpose and meaning. As small children, they looked to me as their constant, their calming force. They were my purpose for staying strong, stoic, steady. When they were little and even now, I give them my continued support. Also, it took me years of being single to allow myself to fall in love again. I feel thankful to my family and to my God that I have another chance at a lifetime partnership. So much healing has taken place but the memories in the emotions are still there. The muscle memories within the physical scars, are still there.

I see what those court advocate where talking about, all those years ago. I have come through the pain of a trial that allows me to empathize with the profound pain of others. Sharing my pain can save lives, or at least meeting others at their depths, so they feel less alone. Not that I have the answers, only the experience in the struggle to survive. I believe now, as a nurse (or soon to be) I can come along side someone and show them I understand what it’s like to be in pain. I can better understand where they’re at because of what I’ve been through. Not everyone is ready to hear a story like mine. A lot of times i get the, “ wide eyed, gaping mouth” reaction. But sometimes I meet someone who says, that it was what they needed to hear. It gives them the courage to set out on their own journey of survival. To start fresh, to start over if that’s what is necessary to start the healing process. As a massage therapist I deal with people and their physical pain all the time. I build care plans around strategies to begin the healing process. Many times, the physical pain is locked up with emotional pain underneath. I understand this, as I am there with them, letting them cry through their trauma. It’s a process that I feel privileged using my skills and abilities to aid in the healing.

[rangikuxmatsumoto]

– halloween shenanigans

“Oh come on, you guys are no fun,” Rangiku bemoaned, a slight pout forming on her lips as arms crossed defiantly across her chest. Yes, she was pouting and yes, it actually was working. A soft sigh escaped Izuru as he threw a knowing glance towards Shuuhei. Matsumoto’s pouting was easily going to work to sway his decision; Izuru could already see it having the desired effect as Shuuhei scrambled to appease the blonde.

“Ah, I mean if you really want to, I don’t see why we can’t…” Shuuhei stammered.

“Isn’t it a little….cliché?” Izuru questioned his tone level as his gaze shifted between the other two. Rangiku had already accepted Shuuhei’s reluctant acceptance to her proposal, which meant that most likely no matter how much Izuru protested he’d be forced to tag along.

“What’s cliché?” Renji chimed as he found three of his companions in huddled discussions in the corner of the fukutaichous’ meeting room.

“Nothing,” Rangiku shot, throwing a slightly glare toward Kira before turning her attention towards the red head, “I want to go out on Halloween but someone wants to be a party pooper.” Knowing that she could shift the tide heavily in her favor, her arm coiled around Shuuhei’s before looping the other around Renji’s, drawing the two males in close with a slight tug. “What do you say Renji? Want to come with Shuuhei and me to the World of the Living for a little Halloween mischief?”

“Uh….” Taken aback by Rangiku practically strong arming him into the planning, Renji felt he had little choice in the matter. “I mean, I guess…”

“So you’re coming,” Rangiku firmly decided for Renji, on his behalf.

“I’m not being a party pooper Matsumoto-san,” Izuru lightly protested but now with the decision three against one, he knew better than to press the issue. “…Fine, I’ll come too.”

A chorus of excited squeals erupted from the blonde female as she gave the two boys still wrapped up in her hold a little squeeze before releasing them to wrap an arm around Izuru’s form in a quick hug. “You guys won’t regret it; we’re going to have so much fun!” Rangiku announced as she bounced between the three of them, “Saturday, let’s say 8 PM, sound good?” Like they had any choice in the matter at this point, they nodded reluctantly, sealing their fate. With the plan in place, Rangiku tossed them a glance over her shoulder and offered a small wave, “8 PM, don’t be late.”

“What did we just agree to?” Renji questioned, still trying to figure out the whirlwind planning session he had accidently involved himself in.

“Uh, I guess we’re going out on Halloween,” Shuuhei responded, casually fantasizing over just how scandalous Rangiku’s Halloween costume might be.

“You just agreed to pay for Matsumoto’s drinks all night you know that don’t you,” Izuru chimed in, arms crossed as he realized Renji and Shuuhei were going to be absolutely useless.

As the week wound closer to Saturday and to Halloween night, Shuuhei, Renji and Izuru came to realize the predicament that they had found themselves in – Rangiku was highly invested in this, casually dropping hints very opportunity she got about the night they were going to have. It was Thursday night, the three of them out for drinks, when their conversation shifted to the looming weekend festivities.

“Wait, are you guys dressing up?” Renji questioned, the notion of Halloween costumes still a difficult concept for him to wrap his head around.

“I mean, Rangiku said she was…” Shuuhei chimed in as he refilled his glass, throwing a glance from Renji to Izuru, “You were planning on dressing up right Izuru?”

“…I’m still not happy about going…” Izuru sullenly replied as he downed a drink.

“Come on, you don’t want Rangiku to call you a party pooper again do you?” Shuuhei was trying his best to get the other two more on board with this adventure, figuring it might win him some brownie points with Rangiku.

“Okay so then what are you dressing up as?” Renji questioned his companions, pointing a drunken finger in their direction.

“Something cool,” Shuuhei chimed, trying to sound cool but only coming off cheesy in the process.

“Something easy,” Izuru groaned as he slumped forward, head to the table in a drunken state.

‘These two aren’t any help,’ Renji thought to himself, knowing that he’d have to go to Matsumoto for help.

The next morning Renji made his way to the Tenth; with the impending evening out only a day away he knew he’d find Rangiku in a good mood. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in her office but her taichou was. Renji was ready to turn tail and run knowing that Hitsugaya probably wouldn’t be pleased to hear about their plans but he wasn’t quick enough to get out of the sight of the young captain.

“Matsumoto isn’t here,” the ever present bite to his tone gave Renji the idea that Rangiku was supposed to be in the office, and the pile of undone paperwork was even more of a dead giveaway. The young captain pinched a note between his fingers, Rangiku’s elegant script fluttered across the paper but from where he stood he couldn’t make out what she had scribbled down as an excuse, “She had an errand to run – and since Kira and Hisagi have also stopped by over the past week, I assume the four of you are up to something.”

“Uh…” How was it that Renji was constantly finding himself put on the spot, “We’re just celebrating Halloween tomorrow…” Had he said too much? Based on the piercing glare he was receiving he might have.

“I figured,” Hitsugaya offered as a groaned escaped him, leaning back against his chair he let go of the note, “And what you’ve come to try and get out of going?”

“No,” Though the thought had crossed his mind a handful of times over the week, “Uh, I don’t have a costume yet and I was going to ask Rangiku’s opinion.”

“Do something clever,” It was the only advice Toshiro would offer, returning to the paperwork in front of him, “Or funny, she’ll appreciate that.”

Renji had been looking more for an actual costume idea, these vague notions as to what to look for in a costume weren’t helping him much. All he had gotten so far was cool, easy, clever, or funny – none of which helped and with Rangiku nowhere to be found at the moment he would be forced to figure this out on his own.

As the clock ticked closed to Saturday at eight, Rangiku put the finishing touches on her costume before sprinting off to meet the boys. For once, she was actually on time, unfortunately two of her companions for the evening were early. Her stride slowed to a stop as she took in the sight before her. Shuuhei was clad nearly head to toe in leather, leather pants, belt, vest – clearly he was going for the ‘biker’ look and Izuru, oh sweet Izuru, he really had gone with something easy, well something that made him look easy, a nurses’ costume.

“What the hell are you two wearing?” Rangiku questioned, slipping between them to get a closer look at the front of their two outfits.

“Halloween costumes,” they replied in unison, as if there was any question.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Shuuhei was the first up for judgement, Rangiku’s pale blue gaze narrowed as she turned her attention directly on him. Under her gaze, suddenly Shuuhei began to sweat, maybe his costume choice was completely wrong, Rangiku looked absolutely stunning in her witch’s costume, the low cut front, and the short frilly skirt – oh god he could feel the nosebleed coming on.

“Well, what even are you? A biker? You look like you belong at a gay bar with that outfit; all you’re missing is the leather ass-less chaps.” The bare chest, the short little croptop like leather jacket, god – the sailor style biker cap that he was now squeamishly clutching in his hands. She should have dictated their costume choices – allowing them free will in the matter clearly had been a terrible idea.

“—At least I’m not wearing a girl’s costume,” somehow Shuuhei had managed to squeak out a retort to Rangiku ripping apart his Halloween costume, trying as best he could to shift the judgment and ridicule to the other member of their party.

“It’s not a girl’s costume!” Izuru practically snapped, though there was a faint blush on his pale cheeks.

“It’s a girl’s costume. Your skirt is nearly shorter than mine and your heels are actually higher than mine,” Rangiku turned her wrath on the other blond, “But you had that in your closet already didn’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

A groan escaped Rangiku as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, whatever – it was Halloween, no one was going to judge, no one was going to care – honestly, they’d probably get more attention because of how those two were dressed. “Where’s Renji?”

“He said for us to go ahead and he’d meet us, something about his costume…” Izuru chimed, tugging lightly at the hem of the sexy nurses’ costume.

“Fine, tell him where to meet us.”

Rangiku was going to need a drink or ten in order to get through the night with these two and whatever crazy costume Renji ended up showing up in. If he showed up at all, the night was early yet but as an hour or so passed by with no sign of the red head, Shuuhei and Izuru started to wonder if he had somehow managed to pull off ditching this evening out. Though, they were actually having fun, and Rangiku was enjoying herself with all the attention being paid to her and the drinks being bought for her. So when the door to the bar opened and another patron began to shove their way in, their obnoxiously large inflatable costume bumping into people left and right – the three didn’t think anything of it, until they noticed just who and what it was.

First it was Rangiku, drink poised at her lips as she caught sight of the inflatable green crown of leaves that nearly towered over the other patrons of the bar, stalking through the packed party. Her gaze lowered, catching sight of a crimson mane that was far too unique to one person, but it was the scowl on Renji’s features that made her nearly choke on her drink from the laughter that threatened. She couldn’t even get the words out before Shuuhei was in stitches at her side, having followed her vision to level on Renji.

“A pineapple!” That was all Rangiku managed, half buckled over in laughter, and clutching Shuuhei’s arm for support as the two, semi-intoxicated individuals laughed their asses off at their friend’s unfortunate choice of attire for the costume.

“Yeah, yeah, a fuckin’ laugh riot. Urahara said it was all he could get on short notice!” He snapped, trying as he might to cross his arms against the large yellow inflatable costume that consumed his entire torso.  

“You went to Urahara for a Halloween costume?” It was Izuru who at the moment was still managing to keep his composure at his friend’s costume choice, even if he could feel a slight tug at the corner of his lips threatening to give way that fact that he too found Renji’s predicament amusing. “You know he did that to mess with you, right?”

Renji, the realization dawning on him that perhaps he had been taken for a sucker by the mysterious shopkeeper, hadn’t been thrilled already and now he wasn’t happy at all.

Having managed to regain some of their composure, even if a bubble of laughter threatened to consume Rangiku the minute her gaze shifted back towards Renji, Shuuhei and Rangiku tried their best to console the red head. “No, no, it’s perfect,” she managed, waving a hand in front of her face to dry the tears that formed from laughing so hard. “You look great, it really suits you Renji.”

“…Shut up.”

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 4)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​, @carryonmyswansong​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s it going?” Spence asked over the phone. 

“Good. Nearly one month down,” you stated with a bit of a smile.

“I know. It’s crazy. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, sweetie.” 

“How is school?” 

“Ah, it’s alright. You wouldn’t believe how awful some of these students’ handwriting is though. My god, it’s like deciphering hieroglyphics.” 

“Actually hieroglyphs are easy to translate since they use pictures to depict their meanings it’s rather easy to interpret them once you know what you’re looking at.” 

A grin fell onto your face easily. “I love when you tell me random facts.” 

“I love that you love it and it doesn’t make you want to roll your eyes.” 

“Never.” 

“And the apartment?”

“It’s not as big as I’d like, but it’s practical. I have a bedroom, small living room, kitchenette. So it works. I just need a place to store my crap. Speaking of, you can go ahead and send down those other boxes of clothes, I’m going to need ‘em.” 

“Sure thing. Made any breaks in the case yet, or have you had time?” 

“I’ve had time. I actually got to question all of the Miami PD.” 

“Oh yeah? How did that go?” 

“Overall, it just helped in crossing off that most of them aren’t suspect to doing it.” 

“Most?”

“Eh, I don’t like saying for sure none of them did it because it just strikes me as funny that seven of them went through the Miami PD. Not the county or state, just the city.” 

“It’s a good a lead as any.” 

“Yeah tomorrow I think I’ll start my questioning of the families and social circles. Garcia already pulled the addresses of next of kin and work for me. I’ll go to the workplaces when I can before and after class, and hit up the residences at night.”

“You’re going to figure this out. I know you can. But don’t over work yourself.”

“I won’t. How is everything there?” 

“Good. It would be easier if you were here but…” 

“I know. How is everyone holding up?” 

“Pretty good. I think Emily and Garcia miss you most. Garcia asks about you nearly every day,” he informed with a laugh. 

“Yeah, I miss them too.” 

“How has this been, by the way? The break? Do you feel like you’re getting the break you need?” 

You paused for a moment, a little unsure what he was referring to, but then you remembered how you told him you wanted to leave the crime fighting behind for a bit. “Yeah, I do actually. I know I’m investigating this case but it’s just one case and I can plan it out. I’m sure if I had the team it would be easier but since we weren’t called into it…” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“But it is helping. I mean most of my time involves the university work, and I’m just doing this on the side to keep me from going insane.”

“So you don’t feel like you’re just repeating what’s being done here? Chasing a case, that might not even have an unsub?” 

“It might not, but something tells me it does.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, Spence. Yes, technically all of these could not be related. But something feels off.”

“It is Miami, it’s not exactly a place people come to settle down.”

“I know that, but why would a guy who is well to do in the community with a wife and kids just disappear? Even if he’s involved in something illegal, clearly no one down here was closing in on him. Or why did a woman who was in nursing school with a boyfriend for three years just vanish? These don’t add up. Even if they were seemingly good citizens they poofed out of existence alongside these criminals.” 

“That’s what I love about you. You see past things like that. I know you’ll make this right and find out the truth.” 

You smiled at his words. “Thank you, sweetie. That means a lot.” 

“Do you think you could come up soon? Just for a weekend?” 

“I’ll try. I don’t know when though because I’m about to give my first exam and then midterms…”

“Yeah, not to mention I won’t know when we’ll get called away to a case…”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a hefty sigh. This would be hard navigating when you could see each other. “I guess I really didn’t think about how hard this would be.”

“Yeah, me either. I’m so used to seeing you, the thought of not seeing you at all for months is…”

That’s all he could get out before he stopped. 

“Hey, we will find a time. If nothing else, I have all of spring break.” 

“Yeah, that’s true. It’ll be here before we know it.” 

------------------------

You ran through the investigation through the week and interviewed almost all of the families, sixteen to be exact. The stories weren’t always the same. Some families felt that yeah, their loved one could’ve totally ran off. Some employees said the missing person never missed a day of work in their life. Others said their loved ones didn’t even leave the house without saying goodbye to everyone and texting if they would be late.

Something didn’t add up.

No matter how bad you wanted to say that some of these people may have gone AWOL, something told you that these people were victims of a crime. So you researched, hard, looking up everything you could on Dexter Morgan. 

He was a foster child and Debra isn’t his biological sister. He just began dating, seriously, for the first time since what seems like high school. His father was a cop -- bingo. That’s how he knew what to do and what to look for. Having rubber gloves on hand as a forensics specialist would be an easy cover too, in case he ever needed them for his own crime. 

It was him. You knew it had to be him. Everything pointed to him.

Okay, well not everything, but a lot of this was compelling. 

You just needed to put him at the scene and time of all of these abductions…

---------------------------

After class the next day, you decided to call in for a search warrant of Dexter’s residence. It was a long shot but it was a gut feeling and your department knew how accurate your gut was. You picked up your cell phone and were about to call your director.

But suddenly, something funny, something… strange twisted inside you. 

This man… This… Dexter. Unless he was doing some sort of weird balancing the universe act, he clearly had an MO for criminals. He wanted scum off the streets just like you did. 

What if… what if you didn’t… turn Dexter Morgan in? 

---------------------------------

You stood at his door, knocking three times. He answered it and you grinned.

“Hello again, Dexter,” you greeted with a sinister grin.

“Dr. Reid, so good to see you again,” he stated, and you knew he was lying. 

“You’re a serial killer,” you confidently declared as you stood right on his threshold staring at him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Aurette and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

I'm deeply honoured to be asked.

A true titan in the world of SS/HG fic, many of our readers will have broken their hearts over your story The Tattered Man.

Okay, let’s jump right in.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Honestly, it was a whim. Long before I thought of writing, I needed a login name to read fanfic. It was a play on Auror. I had no idea it was an actual name.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

Hands down, Snape. I know that might sound strange, but he was the one that clicked. My niece introduced me to the books. Being in my 30s at the time, I already had kids of my own, so I didn't identify as one of the students. I loved Harry from the start but he had this uncanny ability to keep being wrong about nearly everything. The character who best expressed adult annoyance with that was Snape. And I do love a good jerk. Snape was a jerk.

Do you have a favourite genre to read? 

I'm a sucker for fantasy and science fiction. I hated reading as a child. All there was available when I was a kid was Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys and it was insipid. I glommed on to mythology early but once I'd read all the books in my library on the subject, I gave up reading at all. That was about 4th grade. Children's books in the 70s were total garbage and YA books only had one author: Judy Bloom.

Ironically, my first job was working in a bookstore. It was a college bookstore, so it was all textbooks. I wasn't even a student, so I had no interest in any of them. One semester. A Lit prof assigned Fahrenheit 451. The cover art caught my eye and I read the blurb. Then started reading the book. I finished it in about 5hrs. It blew my mind. I had no idea writing like that existed. And the book was about someone discovering the value of books. It was intellectual Inception waaaaay before that was a thing.

After that, it was like a switch flipped in my head. I sucked up books air. I was never without a book or two. Or three...

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

Obviously Fahrenheit 451. I'm going to go ahead and say Les Miserables as well. I was in my 30s when I finally read it and sobbed like a baby at the ending. The care and tenderness Hugo showed when portraying these disposable lives were so unique for that age. Sadly, even today. A lot of our culture is wrapped around the belief that only the wealthy have value and beauty is a pathway to wealth. The poor and ugly are a constant plague to be shunned or dealt with, not humans with crushed dreams that deserve to be valued in their own right. Look at how often fanfic recreatesSnape as handsome or Hermione as gorgeous. Those are always the least interesting stories. (hops off soapbox)

At what age did you start writing?

Whatever age I was when I wrote Safe House. Probably 40ish? That terrible little fanfic is literally the first thing I ever wrote beyond shopping lists and emails. It's an ugly child, but my first, so I love its pointy head. I intentionally leave it up so new writers can see my learning curve. No one starts out good. Read my stories in reverse chronological order and you'll see they get a little worse each time. That's how much I grew as I learned the craft.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Reading tons of it. I was at a total loss after the book Deathly Hallows came out and it was all over. Reading it had become an event in my house. My husband and I would snatch the book out of each other's hands "You've had it long enough. My turn." And then there were no more...

I couldn't even tell you how I found fanfic, but it kept me sane. I keyed in on SS/HG because at the time there was a noticeable difference in the talent level in that ship. I must have read SS/HG fanfic for a solid 2 yrs before I took a leap and wrote my own. I was inspired by the amazing stories, but also by the crappy ones.  "Heck, I could do better" became its own form of allowance. So I had a small 'what if' and just went for it. Of course, it was crap, everyone's first is. But taking the leap and writing it was a huge thing for me to have done.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

I'm a sucker for a story where characters overcome emotional adversity, both external and internal. If you squint. You'll see that theme repeated throughout my fics.

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

None. Nothing else ever grabbed me as a sandbox I wanted to play in before or after HP.

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

Gosh, I don't think I would change a thing about JK Rowling's work. Things I would change would only be me forcing her story to fit my preferred ideal. However, if you think about it, her world, the good and the bad,  challenged all of us to churn out 100,000+ what ifs. Some out of anger. Heh.

As for fav piece of fanon, probably that Malfoy jr was Snape's godson. He's totally not, but whoever started that created a great layering of the dynamic between them that you can share in so many tones.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?  

I was a stay-at-home mom when I was writing most of my fanfics, so I wrote in a chaotic and very noisy environment. I didn't listen to music when I wrote, but music was often the inspiration. When I would get stuck in writing, I would leave it and go listen to music that was emotionally similar to where I wanted the story to be while I thrashed out plot points. Colossus by Afro Celt Sound System is amazing for plotting a prelude to a battle.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

Gosh, there are so many. Sadly, many of the authors who first inspired me are gone and pulled their fics off the web, like my fanfic bestie Dressagegrrrl. I would have to call out Pet Project by Caeria as the one I found most inspiring.  Anything by ApolloniaV is pretty high up there in my book. There are dozens I'm forgetting. There was one called Resurrection Man about Snape accidentally creating a hilarious Zombie apocalypse. Best. Fic. Ever. It disappeared from the web when the author moved on. An incredible loss.

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

Total pantser. The obvious effect is to drive the story right off a cliff and be unable to salvage it. It's why I vowed to never start posting until I had a rough draft ending. Too many dead stories waiting for an ending that never came. But an outline for me is a killer in disguise. I lose interest in telling the tale because I already did in the outline. The fun part is over. Sitting at a keyboard typing your fingers off, while muttering, "What the hell are these people doing? Who's writing this stuff?!" is an amazing experience.

What is your writing genre of choice?

In fanfic, I ran with every genre there was. Mostly I wanted to see if there was one I couldn't tackle.  Most of my o-fic is a hard-to-define mishmash of fantasy and sci-fi. I want to write romance, but it always turns into something complicated and angsty that no longer fits the box.

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

The Tattered Man.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote?

It came off exactly as I'd planned in my head. A rare occurrence for me.

What did you learn from writing it?

I could make people cry with my words. Up to that point, I'd made readers laugh and yell and blush, but to get a reader to the point of actually weeping? That's not easy. JK Rowling did it with ease. It was a challenge.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

It's very personal. My father had just died.  He'd had cancer, and it might have got him in the end, but what actually killed him was being sent home with a feeding tube and the wrong instructions. None of the homecare nurses realized the mistake until his kidneys shut down. It was devastating. When I next took up writing, I was still hurting so I tried to make others feel what I felt at a death that didn't have to be. It was crazy easy to write. I wrote it all in one day. Based on the reviews, I achieved my goal. It helped me work through my loss. Pretty sure I gave a few readers PTSD. My bad.

What books or authors have influenced you?

My all-time favourite book is Iain M. Banks' Use of Weapons. Definitely a classic among the eighteen people in the United States that read it. The man was a shockingly gifted author and I was devastated when he passed away. His ability to just drop you into the action from the first page and not bother to explain what's going on is sadistic genius.

How do you think that shows in your writing?

It led to my belief that a writer is always better when they assume their readers are smart. Grab their interest and just run. They'll catch on and even pass you with their theories of what's going to happen next. I've no patience with stories that spell out everything in minute detail. They're tedious and insulting. Less really is more. On the other hand, writing over your reader's head is just as annoying. Intentionally using obscure SAT words in your story just makes you a pretentious twat. Unless your character is a pretentious twat and it's part of the dialogue.  In that case, twat away. *gigglesnort*

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

My family all knew. They were tremendously supportive. Especially Mr. Aurette, my personal Snape. Outside of my family, I was less forthcoming. Mostly because it was so crazy hard to explain. I think it's a lot less weird now, but back then? It was far more stigmatized.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

That's a hard one. For someone who'd never tried to write a story before, it was an amazing journey to realise what I could do. That changed me forever. Having the instant feedback of reviews was intrinsic to that experience. The downside is you can get sucked into writing for reviewers, and they will tell you clearly what they want and expect.  That can stifle. I knew no one wanted The Tattered Man to end the way it did. I was pretty terrified of the reaction. But it's what I wanted. It was the entire point. I wrote that ending for myself, but I cowered after posting.

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I absolutely loved interacting with my readers. I made some real-life friends and some really great fic buddies all over the world. I watched them become friends in reviews too. It was a really great experience. Spam-posting a fic would often take on a festival atmosphere. Unfortunately, when my review count started to really take off, I couldn't cope with the sheer numbers the same way. There weren't enough hours on the day to reply to everyone. Trying to personalize my response to a review grew overwhelming. I actually grew quite depressed over it. Connecting on a more removed, professional level seemed cold. I connected the most on Livejournal when that was a thing. But I had to back off. "Aurette" became far more witty and wonderful than I was in real life. Everyone wanted a piece of her. I couldn't keep up with the bitch. Lol.  I faded away from most interactions on social media out of self-preservation. Even tiny fame can make you whacko.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

There's a few that come to mind.

1-If you want to be a better writer, kill every adverb you come across.

2-Read your words out loud to yourself. If you run out of breath, your reader will run out of patience at that exact point.

3-Dressagegrrrl was the one that finally made me see how playing POV ping pong within a scene was something that marked my writing as an amateur.

4-Stop trying to be clever. Be clever, if you are clever, but don't try. It comes off hamfisted every time. Readers hate that.

5-Never, ever, ever post something you wrote that day. You've left half of it in your head and you can't tell. It's awful.

6-If you're not even a little embarrassed by something you wrote 6 months ago, you're no longer growing as a writer.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

That's a bit of a sticking point. Stress is a muse-killer. Anything you can do to rid yourself of stress will help. Writer's block is usually the result of something going on elsewhere in your life. Fix that and the creativity will come back.

That said, my life has turned into constant stress with the result being I no longer write at all.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Everything has. 'Write what you know' is true for fantasy too. Whether it's heartbreak, or a drunken hookup that turned into love (Hello, Mr. Aurette) or a moment when you were a child and ignored or teased, or maybe the bully, all of it makes it's way into the emotional truth of a scene or character, no matter how outlandish the setting.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

I have a Dropbox full of stories I've run into the wall or had to leave half finished, both fanfic and o-fic. No teasers, because at this point I don't think they will ever see the light of day. Never say never, but the light of hope is dim.

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Anyone can write and everyone has something to say. Be open to the process. Part of that process involves having a stranger tell you that your shiny new love is really shit. Being defensive only prolongs your shittiness. Embrace criticism. Sometimes,  the process of justifying something can actually buttress your choice, so you double down with better results. Other times, you'll see your idea wasn't working after all. Be ruthless in your editing, but don't delete. That scene you cut because it caused everything to go off the rails could be a different story trying to get out. Take that leap, you fail at everything you don't try, so why not try something you really want?

Thanks so much for giving us your time.

It's been my pleasure.  Thank you for the opportunity.  *waves to my readers*

[lostonehero]

A high school teacher au pt2

(Fuck off with that word limit also trigger warning for some stuff)

....

Something was missing. Roman had a strong feeling pass over him like something was wrong. He needed something, his mind felt like lead, and he couldn't even focus on anything but this feeling. He had a vague notion that his friends were around him asleep waiting on a report.

His body seemed to move on it's own occord as he walked passed the nurses to a blocked off ward. The doctors and nurses tried to stop him, but something told him that this was more important then following the rules as he ran towards the door. His mind racing with this desire like something was rewired in his brain and everything he desired was behind this door. He even felt his heart yearn for this as well.

He opened the door and by the smell alone he felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he sank to sit in the room. Opening his eyes he sees Dorian lay in the hospital bed, all of the machines, tubes and wires have been ripped apart, and removed from his body. The walls have cracks and dents in them like something grew too big but stopped suddenly.

With shaky legs Roman got up approaching Dorian. What did he do to him? Out of instinct he brushes the hair out of his eyes, and a jolt went through his entire being. It felt like a rush of something hit him all at once. Something wet dripped from his nose, it was blood. How did his nose start bleeding? His head didn't feel heavy anymore. Unconsciously Roman grabbed Dorian's hand. He felt like he needed more his whole being screamed at him to take more. What could he take from Dorian? He didn't want to hurt him.

He let's go of Dorian's hand gripping his head. It hurt he needed to do something, he needed to taste.... taste? He closed his eyes leaning towards Dorian. His mind was screaming no this wasn't right, but he couldn't fight this. He felt his lips press against Dorian's, his tongue forced its way in as Roman climbed on top of Dorian. What was he doing this was wrong he was going to hurt him.

Roman laced his fingers in Dorians raising them above his head. His body craved more, Roman didn't want this anymore this was so fucked. He managed to force his eyes open locking them with Dorian's. He was awake why can't he stop him. Something was so wrong, Roman screamed internally. His lungs began to burn as he realized he was holding his breath.

He breathed leaning his forehead on Dorian's forehead. His fingers untangled themselves from Dorian's as they traveled lower. No no no Roman wanted to cry, why couldn't he stop this. Something foreign grabbed his hands pushing them away. Oh fucking finally, Roman felt relief flood his thoughts that turned to ice when he felt something wonder into his pants. Thoes hands weren't his, oh fuck his pants were coming off.

Roman looked back down to Dorian looked back at up at him. This is it he was going to ruin him, this shouldn't happen, he was a monster. Tears slowly dripped out of Roman's eyes. Dorian shifted under Roman flipping him over.

Roman looked up shocked still not able to control his body. He felt like everything was on fire, his body was craving something. He needed to fight this he almost raped his friend yet now he was pinned under the man. His pants now pushed down even more, he couldn't he look down to see what was happening, his mind was too focused on Dorian.

His body suddenly went cold everywhere except where Dorian's legs brushed over his own legs. He let out a whine wanting warmth. His thoughts were racing, what the fuck is going on? He was cold, he needed to get warm. He looked into Dorian's eyes, his mind screamed that it was wrong. His eyes were wrong, but something switched in his mind and he felt relaxed. Something yelled at him that this was normal, another quiet voice growing louder in his mind wanted no demanded more.

"He-help me. I-" Roman was starting to cry his body not moving to his will. He didn't know what was happening anymore. He just wanted this to end. He was a idipt and should of listened to everyone. He shouldn't of opened the box. He was probably going to rape his friend, and he couldn't do anything about it. He needed more but this wasn't right. He is going to hurt him.

His thoughts erupted into silence as Dorian kissed Roman with so much force there teeth clacked together. His tongue forced it's way into Roman's mouth. He was drooling so much he felt like he was going to choke. What is happening to him drool spilled out of his mouth when Dorian finally released him.

His mouth tasted sweet? Roman's eyes clouded over with confusion as he swallowed the excess drool as a reflex. How did he even produce that, Dorian's mouth was so dry. Roman let out a whine as his hands made there way to his mouth. Roman felt disgusted with himself, god he hated his body right now. Dorian maybe on top of him, but Roman can't control anything he does.

Why was he drooling so much? Humans can't drool this much. Roman's hands were pulled out by Dorian who replaced them with his lips like this was a scolding. His mind was reeling he felt good which wasn't right. He shifted uncomfortably his butt was wet, wait why was his butt wet? He let out a confused noise as Dorian pulled away. Roman gained back control of his body scootching upward away from Dorian to sit upright.

Ok he knows he is just in his underwear, and Dorian is still staring at him, and he almost raped his friend. Ok this was too much he started to cry overwhelmed with everything curling himself up in a ball. "I'm so sorry." He barely croaked out.

......

Dorian blinked at Roman, something was wrong. Not finished this wasn't finished. Need to finish.

......

Roman shifted again it was getting wetter under him and he knows his tears aren't that wet. He looked at Dorian bleary eyed who looked back at Roman with a desire in his eyes. He wasn't concerned with him at this moment something was really wrong, and for some reason he was soaked all along his bottom. Nothing was wrong with Dorian, he could move again. Something clawed at the back of Roman's mind he needed something.

He didn't like this not one bit, but his body wasn't moving without his permission. He started to feel hot, and he was whining. "He-lp." Roman whined moving his hands down as he moved to his knees bending over. Now his mind was getting foggy, but now he felt empty, but Dorian is fine so he wouldn't mind this. All rational thought left Roman as he pulled down his wet boxers. He slips two fingers in his ass, if he was in a saner mindset he would be startled at how easy they slipped in. Two quickly became three, and that became his whole hand as he whined like a bitch in heat.

Wasn't full, he needs to be filled. "F-fix." He cries as he pulls his hand out.

......

Dorian climbed and pushed Roman foward as he continued to whine. He would fix. Dorian leaned and stuck his tongue in Roman's ass without warning making a loud whine erupt from him. It was so wet he needs to fix. Removing his tongue, and his hospital gown already ripped to shreds he moves foward.

Two dicks entered without a warning, as sharp teeth pierce Roman's right shoulder. Roman let out a moan of pure pleasure at being filled. It was rough and messy thrusts each one making Roman sing lovely moans. The rapid pace continued as Dorian neared his edge, letting Roman cum first he followed quickly after letting his jaw go slack and releasing Roman's shoulder. He pulled out, then quickly licking Roman clean.

He fixed it he curls up next to Roman.

.........

Roman woke up in a panic unable to get up. Fuck why was he in bed Dorian was in the hospital. Something was wrapped around him, and a puff of black hair was in his line of site. Did he take someone home? What the fuck happened, what was this place? He tried to move again, a dull pain pulsed from his shoulder. Why did his shoulder hurt, it was usally his ass after sex.

The man on top of him shifted and rolled off of him sitting up. Roman looked over and froze, that was Dorian. How he was, did he. Roman felt bile in his throat as he pieced together what he thinks happened.

.........

Dorian massaged his temples as he sat up, yesterday came back in bits and pieces. Oh Gods he was so fucked. Why did his crotch feel so weird, there wasn't a blanket so he saw that he now had two dicks. What the fuck? He turned to see Roman with a look of horror on his face. "I uh."

"Dorian I raped you. I'm so fucking sorry." Roman looked appalled at himself.

Dorian blinked with confusion written on his face. "You what? I don't think you did Roman. Oh fuck I bit you hard." He brushes his hand gently over the bite mark on Roman's shoulder then let's his tongue sweep over his new teeth he grimaces, too sharp.

Roman looked confused. "But I, that's the only way I can explain this you weren't conscious."

"I could say the same to you Roman." Dorian hisses as he gets to his feet off the hospital bed. He notices the damage he has done to the place and pales. "I don't remeber any of this fuck."

Roman finally takes a look around the room seeing the damage, and a large crack behind him that matches the hospital bed. Confusion and fear laced his mind as he looked around then back at Dorian. "How... what."

Dorian shakes his head peaking outside the door everything was normal. A doctor spotted him and approached.

"Oh you're awake good you had us quite scared with that fall you took. But good news you can sign yourself out because there isn't anything wrong. It was just a little scare." The doctor smiles. "Oh by the way your friends are quite the animated type spinning tales about what happened." The doctor chuckles walking away.

Ok that was even weirder a black bag was in the corner of the damaged room. There was a note which Dorian picked up. It was from Patton...

"We got you guys clothes, after uh Virgil had a panic attack when things got real weird. Logan even fainted. Uh yeah the doctors think we're crazy so that's fun. The school isn't even acknowledging what is happening but they bought Logan's excuse that we're talking paid break all of us so don't worry about that."

Dorian reread the letter again then pulls out clothes from the bag. Tossing a set at Roman who seems to snap out of whatever trace he was in. "Uh thanks Dorian, what uh did the letter say?"

Dorian explains what he knows to Roman.

.........

The pair exit the hospital looking confused at the sight they see. Logan is currently writing reasons why this shouldn't happen, and Patton is trying to comfort him. Roman coughs getting their attention. "Uh hey you doing alright you two."

Logan jolts up grabbing Dorian's shoulders. "Explain everything."

"Uh I need to figure this out myself first Logan. I honestly can't piece this together my memories are fragmented at best." Dorian looks defeated.

Logan frowns. "Ok then we start from the beginning."

Patton claps his hands getting everyone's attention. "No not now let's go back to my place. You guys need a shower and a nice meal. "

As if on que Roman's stomach growls and so does Dorian's, both of their faces light up red.

"Time to eat. It's something normal." Patton hums leading the three to his car. "Virgil is already there uh Logan can you text him."

Logan nods sending Virgil a text.

[zendozebra]

All the Time in the World Chapter 11

“Why are you coming to me about this?” Like, he gets it, a sparring club was a good idea, but shouldn’t Kirishima go to one of his teachers that gives them practical classes? Admittedly, Majima should be helping Yagi and Aizawa, but Nezu hasn’t bitched at him to do it yet, so he wasn’t going to start.

“Because I went to All Might, but he said that he was too busy to be our sponsor, and Aizawa told me that you aren’t in charge of a club yet, which means that you can’t say no.” Aizawa, you prick! He was really hoping that everyone had forgotten that little detail of his contract, but damnit, why’d he have to be such a good teacher.

“Fine, you have other members for this shit show?”

“Yes sir! Myself, Bakugo, Midoriya, Uraraka, and Asui are the ones who signed up for it.”

“That’s it? Huh, you’d figure there’d be more than that.”

“I just asked enough people to have the minimum of five.”

“Makes sense. Why are you trying to start this up, anyway? Where’d the idea come from?”

“Well, the final exams are in a few weeks, and we still don’t know what we’re going up against for the practical part of it. There’s a chance that we might have to solve a problem without our quirks, or be forced to fight without them.”

“Well, at least you’ve thought this through a little bit.” He sighed loudly, standing up from his seat at his desk. “I would like to let you know, Kirishima, that not only is this a stupid idea, but it is an idea so stupid that you have my support 100%.” Majima smirked when Kirishima started to cheer, not knowing what the time stopper’s next move was. “But!” He leaned in close to the redhead, his smirk growing into a wicked smile, “I want in.”

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Five of his students stood in front of him, decked out in their gym uniforms. It was early on a saturday, so Majima was still kind of drunk. Let’s hope Asui wouldn’t judge him for that, her bluntness cuts deep sometimes. He cleared his throat before he started, “Alright, bitches, here's the deal. I’m hungover, and I frankly, don’t care for… Roughly 60% of you, 40% on a good day. So, let’s just go over a few things.”

“First things first, no quirks. Uraraka, since you don’t really control when your quirk activates, I got some gloves for you from the nurse’s office. Kirishima, no hardening, Midoriya, no bone-breaking, and if you blow something up, Bakugo, I’ll kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try, asshole!” This little shit just doesn’t know when to quit, does he? Fine, Majima has an idea to deal with this shit.

“Alright then, you’re with me shit-stain. The rest of you, choose a partner.”

They both got into position while Majima took his shirt off, trying to ignore the looks his tattoos got him. Man, sometimes he regrets getting this thing. Seriously, the kids knew he was a villain, that’s fine, but he had kind of wanted to keep the yakuza thing a secret. Whatever. “You ready, bo-” Bakugo punched him in the face before he could finish. This bitch.

Majima reeled back, but managed to grab the blonde’s arm, using this leverage to go in for his own punch, nailing Bakugo in the stomach. He took a step back, shaking his head to try and regain his focus. But what do you know, Bakugo doesn’t know the meaning of the words “Wait a sec”, and immediately charged back in, throwing a right hook at his head. He blocked with his arm, and again grabbed the boys arm, pulling him in to knee his groin. The blonde dropped like a rock, a look of hate at his teacher while Majima laughed his fucking ass off. All of this happened in a span of 2 minutes, meaning that the other four students had watched the whole thing.

They looked at him with wide eyes as Bakugo charged at him with his hands crackling. Oh, he’s pissed, this should be fun. He should use his old bag of tricks for this, shouldn’t he? Alright, yeah, let’s use the desync trick. Majima didn’t snap his fingers, but his body was cloaked in a blinding white light. “Time Desync: Factor of 5!” The others couldn’t figure out what happened, but Bakugo was suddenly flying back and landing on the ground, knocked out cold.

He turned to look at his other students, “So, what have we learned about fighting today, class?”

“We’re not supposed to use our quirks, Majima-sensei! That’s cheating, and it’s super unmanly!” Kirishima, seemed to be… Much more upset about this than Majima thought he’d be. Guess he should explain himself.

“Remember Kirishima, scumbag tactics are the only way to win. If you are not willing to become a huge cheater, just to win a fight, then you don’t deserve to win that fight.” Every. SIngle. Student. They were all looking at him like he was crazy. “What?”

“Majima-sensei, that really doesn’t sound very heroic.” Asui said, finger on her chin as she thought it over.

“Heroic? Who the hell said anything about heroics? Last I checked, I’m still a villain!” To send his point home, he punched Kirishima in the face when he knew the boy wasn’t ready, knocking him to the ground. “Hell, I’m the best kind of villain! Evil, not out of conviction, not for survival, not for gain or revenge. I am evil, as a choice! Evil for evil’s sake!”

“What the hell’s the difference between that kind of evil and the others? You said that there were only the 3 kinds, but now you’re changin’ it?” Oh man, Kirishima sounded a bit worked up. He probably should have punched Midoriya instead of him.

“The difference is that there is an equal chance that I’ll kill someone out of boredom as there is the chance of the stealing a pack of gum. I commit evil not because I want to commit evil, but because there is evil to commit.” Oh wait, shit, there’s a lesson to be taught here, wasn’t there? “Besides, you need to get this notion of ‘manly fighting’ out of your head, kid, before someone pays the price.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Midoriya, Asui, start with some sparring. Uraraka, take Bakugo to the nurse. I’m a bit rusty with desync, and I can’t remember how much damage he was suppose to take. Better safe than sorry, yeah?” He then grabbed Kirishima by the shoulder and led him a bit away for some privacy.

“Let me ask ya something, kid. There’s a villain standing between you and a group of hostages, what do you do?”

“I defeat the vi-”

“Wrong.” Judging the confused look on the redhead’s face, he can guess that this lesson is tad bit overdue, “You prioritize the safety and rescue of the hostages, work to isolate the villain in an empty environment. You’ve been assigned to work with a team of six, fighting a group of three, how do you decide which opponent to fight?”

“I fight the strongest o-”

“Wrong. Kid, you call yourself the Red Riot. You want to honour the legacy of the Crimson Riot, then put aside the chivalrous shit for when the job is done.”

“But what about fairness? Honour in fighting your opponents? That’s everything that Crimson Riot stood for!”

“And what if someone gets killed, because you wanted to fight fair? Huh? How are you going to explain that to a father that he lost his daughter to a villain attack, because you didn’t do everything in your power to get the job done. Huh?! What will you do, Kirishima?!” Majima is getting a bit worked up, old memories he didn’t want to be reminded of, but this kid needs to learn this lesson. Like Midoriya and that giant robot all those months ago.

“I’ll fight harder! I’ll get stronger! I- I’ll-”

“Look, kid,” Majima put his hands on Kirishima’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes. He saw a lot of self doubt, and a whole slew of confusion, but he’s just trying to help. “Some people say that not everything can be solved with your fists, but you’d be surprised how many people will give up after a quick kick to the dick. Or grabbing a fistfull of hair, or a thumb in the eye, or a sneak attack, ambush, all matter of dirty tricks. So long as you can end your opponent, you do it. By any means necessary. You got it?”

“…”

“Hey! I said, you got it? Or am I going to have to demonstrate to you just how effective these tricks are?”

That got him, now he was starting to look a bit scared. “Yes, sensei!”

“Alright, now back to work with the others.” Majima watched Kirishima run over to the others, putting a hand on his lower back. Damn, desync really did a number on his back. He’ll have to start up his own training again, he?

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Parts of this chapter seemed rushed, I know. I was having a ton of trouble with this one, and I needed to get something out. Next chapter is where we start affecting the canon a bit, and I have a lot of really good stuff planned. As an aside, we finally have fan art. Go check it out on my tumblr, @zendozebra, or just click the link in my profile. I also give updates on why I’m not uploading, so while you’re there, give me a follow, better to gauge how many of you ungrateful fucks there really are.

[imagine-wannaone]

Lai Guanlin Medical Au

Back and late as always~

> • You hadn’t expected to spend your Saturday night in the hospital,  >• But then who ever does except for doctors?  >• It’s been a while since you last saw the bright lights and overworked doctors and nurses, > • I mean it’s been a year, > • But as someone infamous for being incredibly clumsy, a year was a break,

> • It had started at the age of 6, breaking your arm, and then it’d just tumbled, > • From broken noses to crushed feet and bruised ribs, you’re sure that you’re at least 40% metal at this point, > • You’d be an awful superhero but you’re half way there, >• So you should be pretty used to pain by now, >• Hahahaha nope, > • Propped in a wheelchair in a busy part of the waiting room, you’re pretty happy to whine to your best friend, > • Who sits next to you, a veteran at accompanying you to the sterilised building after your accidents, > • But she was part of your reason for ending up there in the first place, > • It’d started a completely innocent day, hanging with your best friend, dancing goofily to songs on the radio and chatting endlessly,

> • But of course there’s always an element of boredom, which only means one thing for the two of you, > • Couples yoga, > • It’d always been a tradition for the two of you to try the weirdest couple yoga positions after you’d quit gymnastics together when you were 15, > • You’d actually become quite good tho??? > • Throw any weird position together and you’d find a way, > • It’s not yet known if you just liked throwing your best friend around or if you actually enjoyed the activity, > • During the warm up, a double plank, > • A move that you’d previously perfected despite the fact you now sat in a bustling hospital, > • You’d made a quick comment which had your friend bursting into a laughing fit, collapsing down onto your legs, > • Because you were always the bottom in yoga, stronger than your friend, > • Which made your pose break and your knee slammed in the ground, > • Okay maybe yoga isn’t the place for puns, > • (Isn’t everywhere the place for puns?), > • Or clumsy people, > • But now your knee looks a little off angle, and maybe a little swollen and yeah, maybe a little blue, > • Which really isn’t reassuring, > • And it’s screaming at you like a child having a tantrum in a toy store, > • Smh children are a lot of work, > • So your best friend listens to your complaining as you watch the waiting time leap from 4 hours to 5, > • That means you’ve got to sit in that all too familiar room for 3 more excruciatingly long hours, > • And one of the girls from the couple across from you has a bandage wrapped around her head and you feel bad for giggling at how cartoon-like it looks, > • But her girlfriend can’t seem to stop laughing at her, unable to fully meet her eyes without bursting into a new fit, > • Couple goals, > • I mean if you can’t laugh at each other what can you do? > • But while you have to wait a short lifetime, you also feel bad for all the nurses and doctors, rushed off their feet, as always, > • You pass your time by buying sweets from the vending machine and trying to throw them into your friends mouth, unable to move yourself, > • Which nearly ends in another broken bone, > • But tbh what a good place to break another bone, > • Then you’d be matching, > • And you make up people’s life stories as they walk/limp/roll past, > • Your friend naps on your shoulder and you wish your knee wasn’t keeping you awake, > • You’re pretty sure you can see the light when a nurse finally, finally, calls your name and you wheel the hell out of there, >  • One of the kids across from you had just started crying and it broke your heart, you just wanted to wrap him in blankets, > • You rolled to a stop and one of the doctors/ nurses (you were way too tired to try to be able to tell them apart) dropped into the seat opposite, > • He looked about as tired as you felt and you nearly sent him to go for a nap, > • But despite the tired eyes he still smiles at you and it’s 10/10, > • Like damn, > • A warm ass smile as well, not one of the mandatory ones, > • It warms your heart and you grin goofily back despite your knee, who does not like the notion of movement and protests heavily, > • He takes one look at your knee and is like whelp it’s screwed, > • Like yeah bruh, that’s why I’m here, > • So then you have to wait another half hour to get an x-ray, which is honestly awful, > • Not only are you getting radiation blasted at you, they have to move you, > • While you understand that they have to find out what’s actually wrong with your cursed knee, > • You don’t want to understand because it’s easier to complain when you’re ignorant, > • (Whoop too real here sorry) > • You eventually end up back on a bed with doctor Lai again, full circle, > • He cracks another heart warming, full gummy smile when you tell him how you’ve broken your kneecap, to which your friend hangs her head in fake shame and you grin, > • Cus his smile is damn intoxicating, > • That smile makes your head tingle; heart flutter, >  • So you’re infinitely glad you’re not hooked to one of those heart rate monitors, > • So after Doctor Lai confirms you’ve broken your kneecap, which is really a surprise to no one, > • He confirms you don’t need surgery and you thank the universe for being less mean than it could have been, > • You know what pain is coming when he says he’s going to cast it, > • His hands look delicate though so you comfort yourself with the knowledge you haven’t got a rough ass nurse casting your leg, > • But then you also have an extremely handsome doctor/nurse seeing you at your, admittedly not lowest, point (but still pretty low), > • Getting ready to cry because you can’t actually bend your leg, > • But when he passes you that gas, > • Oh boi it’s like a whole different you, > • It still burns like hell and you wanna scream but your mind just takes a laid back view on life, > • “You must be tired but you’re still beautiful like wow what’s your skin care?” > • You giggle from the laughing gas, not comprehending at all, > • Your friend has to leave the room from their overflowing giggles, second hand embarrassment and their imagination at your future horror at what just spilled out of your uncontrolled mouth, > • Lai’s cheeks redden > • You make sure to tell him it’s adorable, > • And he chuckles with a shake of his head, > • And then pain shoots up your leg and you cry out again, tears trailing down your face as you breath into the gas,

>  • But apparently you’re brain is still having a chill time, > • Your head is completely confused because this shit hurts, you’re crying, but yOU GOTTA LAUGH, > • “I don’t think you need my skin care routine to be honest, you look pretty cute already,” > • His words muffle your pain further and you giggle > • From the gas or from the compliment, a literal doctor cannot tell, > • “Well thank you, that’s a compliment and a half seeing as it’s coming from you,” > • Lai smiles shyly as he finishes setting your cast, eyes jumping to you as the gas wears off, > • And then it hits you, > • Oh man it hits you like a damn truck, full on and straight to the chest, > • I mean you already knew laughing gas had a stronger reaction on you than most, but you did not expect this, > • You wanna apologize to the doctor but you actually can’t make eye contact, > • You go through the usual, Lai giving you the rundown on what to do next and where to get your meds, > • He wraps his arm around your shoulders to help you shuffle off the bed and makes sure you’re steady enough on your crutches before shaking your hand, > • You finally manage to meet his eyes and practically melt, > • His eyes are tired, yes, but still warm and welcoming and his smile numbs your burning pain and it’s your time to blush before shuffling out of there, > • Your friend greets you buckets of laughter and it’s really what you need, > • That is until you see some pen scrawled onto your cast, something black and shiny standing against the cast, > • You plop down onto a chair, > • Even though you don’t know if you’ll be able to get back up again, > • And your best friend reads you a series of numbers scrawled quickly into the casts white surface, > • Above the number, > • “I’ll share my skincare secrets over a coffee” > • And really nothing has ever been more tempting, > • Guanlin has a busy ass schedule being a doctor, but he always finds time for you, > • Which really amazes you tbh, > • Your little dates are always laid back, because being a doctor is tiring AF, > • And it really suits you because what’s better than just lying around together chatting, or catching a coffee with cake(!!), > • Or playing truth or dare, > • Which is, not gunna lie, kinda dangerous but you gotta live life on edge™ > • And then when Guanlin has a weekend off and he has more energy, it makes the days where you go to theme parks or actually go outside even more special, > • And you’re on a chilled back date when Guanlin doodles over your admittedly bare cast, > • And it’s actually really cute and creative and you’re glad you had previously gone for a minimalistic theme, > • And when you heal you teach Guanlin your couples yoga poses, > • As your bestie had insisted it was a cute couple idea, > • And the fact that yoga had actually bought you together, > • And he gets the hang of it quickly and it’s really good for the two of you because Guanlin has a high stress job so the yoga relaxes the both of you, > • You become one of those couples you see on Instagram with all the crazy poses, looking cute af, > • lmao ‘goals’ > • But yanno, Guanlin really does teach you his skincare secrets and you don’t know if you’ve ever looked healthier, > • But you also don’t know if that’s the routine of the fact you’ve never been happier,

[my-mystic-messenger]

MC has a complicated birth and Jumin doesn’t know how to handle it

Heyo, you didn’t specify whom you wanted this request to be about so I went and decided to write a fic about Jumin and Madeleine again – for anyone who doesn’t know who Madeleine is, find out about her here – because I love them. Hope you enjoy! :3

Fandom: Mystic Messenger Rating: None Warnings: Angst Categories: F/M Relationships: MC x Jumin Word count: 1514

From the moment Jumin and Madeleine had announced their engagement mere weeks after meaning one another people had worried and warned them about the fast pace in which they were taking their relationship. Both of them were usually so composed and calculative and none of their friends could fathom the recklessness they showed in their love life. By the time their wedding day came around a couple of months later – just as rushed and yet perfectly organized – and no one commented on their relationship anymore. The two people standing at the altar and speaking their vows were brimming with joy and everyone with eyes could see that they weren’t just infatuated but truly and deeply in love. Madeleine and Jumin shared a deep bond that transcendent time. Getting to know one another was a process that lasted a life time either way, so neither of the pair saw any fault in giving in to the desire and passion they felt for one another right away. They exchanged their rings, shared a kiss in front of friends and family and overjoyed began a new part of their life.

♛

No one was surprised when the two announced Madeleine’s pregnancy by the end of their first year as a married couple. In fact, the only real surprise was that it hadn’t happened sooner. Jumin looked at Madeleine like the stars and moon were shining just for her at night and Madeleine held the same, all consuming adoration for her husband. Both of them were so excited for the child to come, documenting the entire pregnancy and sharing it with the RFA. They were just as excited to greet the new member of their group once they were born, already offering help and support in all matters baby. Of course none of them really knew anything about babies, but their excitement and support was enough. The closer the due date came, the more Jumin seemed to change, mellow out in a sense. He cut back work hours in favour of going home to his wife and eat ice cream and pickles with her. He began to trust his employees more, sharing his work load so he wouldn’t stress too much, all in favour of his health. After all he now had a family to take care of! It became obvious to everyone that Jumin Han had finally settled and found his peace in it. Instead of a hard, professional mask employees were now greeted with smiles and during lunch breaks Jumin showed around pictures of the beautiful nursery of his pregnant wife. He was still an exceedingly talented businessman, but he was also turning into an amazing father. 

♛

When Madeleine’s due date arrived, everything was ready. The nursery was finished and aired out. Elizabeth the 3rd was in a cat hotel so the baby could get used to the home first and then slowly get to know the cat, Jumin’s doctors were on call and Madeleine had the most luxurious room in the private hospital. Both of them were ecstatic to finally meet their baby and all was perfect.

It took a couple of hours after her water broke until finally Madeleine went into labour. Jumin never once left her side, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement into her ear. He pressed kisses to her temple and wiped the sweat of her forehead, never once complaining when she almost crushed his hand during a particularly painful push. In fact, he beamed through the entire process, mesmerized at how amazing his wife – any becoming mother, really – was. To be able to give birth to human life and endure such pain in the process truly was an astonishing feat. So lost in his adoration and admiration, Jumin belated registered the buzz that suddenly began in the OR. The heart monitor was beeping like crazy, indicating that Madeleine’s heart had stopped working. Jumin had close to no time to react when he was suddenly being pushed aside by the doctors, screaming about Madeleine having had a stroke and having to safe the baby at least. Jumin wanted to beg them to safe her too, but from the looks of it, it was already too late. They did manage to safe the baby at least, a little girl as it turned out – the two of them had decided to have it remain a surprise until birth – but Jumin couldn’t bear to look at the child. He begged the nurses to take care of her and demanded an immediate explanation by the doctors. After all the two of them had been to a million appointments and not one of them had seen anything worth mentioning. The doctors apologized a million times, explaining that apparently Madeleine had suffered of Preeclampsia which often time went unnoticed as the symptoms are things like weight gain and nausea, both associated with every regular pregnancy. It had caused Madeleine to suffer both brain damage and a stroke, killing her almost immediately. They tried to assure him that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d been amazing in preparing for the pregnancy and that no one was to blame. That, however, only seemed to anger Jumin further and when they tried to explain that at least they’d saved the child, the Han heir completely lost it. Had it not been for Jihyun calming him down, he probably would have killed someone. In that moment Jumin considered suing them all, every last doctor him and Madeleine had visited during her pregnancy who’d assured them that she was of perfect health. Then he realized that it wouldn’t make a difference. He didn’t need their money and all the revenge in the world wouldn’t reverse what he’d just witnessed. She was gone and nothing could bring her back to him.

♛

He held the child once, big green eyes beaming up at him with a toothless smile to match their radiance, before Jumin gave up on the notion of being a father. He named her Ji-Yun, despite his anger telling him to name her Biun instead, before handing her back to the nurses and asking Jihyun to bring her back to his place instead of him. Instead he asked to see Madeleine, couldn’t live with the thought of leaving this hospital without her. It didn’t bring her back, didn’t magically reverse time, but it allowed Jumin to let reality sink back in. As he clutched to her hand, bringing the cold member to his cheek praying and begging Madeleine to open her eyes he realized that with her, a part of him had died.

He purposefully returned home late that night, knowing that Ji-Yun was in good hands with his best friend. Better hands than he had to offer. It as the beginning of a long streak of abandonment and denial. No matter how much the RFA tried to lecture Jumin on his decisions, especially Saeyoung, Saeran and Zen who’d experienced it themselves, he never budged.

Jumin buried himself in work and let nannies raise his daughter. Once she was old enough those were replaced by an all day daycare and the moment she was too old for that, a string of boarding schools. He couldn’t so much as look at her, the bright red hair and shining green eyes so much like her mother that he was overwhelmed by sorrow each and every single time. Ji-Yun never got to know her father beyond what she read in the papers and little of it had been good, in recent years. The media didn’t care for C&R and the business aspect of his life, instead focusing on the plenty of women Jumin Han – once an infamous bachelor – seemed to care more for than his very own daughter. Women that went as quickly as they came. Sometimes, when Ji-Yun couldn’t bear it any longer and the pit in her stomach grew, she turned to Jihyun and the rest of the RFA for support. They’d opened their hearts and homes to her a long time ago, doing their best to make up for the mistakes Jumin was making with his daughter. It was them who told her about her mother and what an extraordinary woman she’d been. After every time Ji-Yun asked for Madeleine, all of them turned to Jumin, begging him to finally take responsibility of his despicable actions and above all, his daughter. They told her about what an amazing young woman she was and how much she was like her mother, kind and driven. None of them realized that it only pushed Jumin further away. Jumin knew what he was doing was despicable, fucking his way through the female high society before drowning himself in either work or bottles of wine. All the things he’d promised Madeleine he wouldn’t do, all the mistakes he promised himself he wouldn’t make…he failed it all. He’d turned into not only a copy of his father, but an even worse version. And by God, he hated himself more than all of the world combined.

[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign (Ch. 1)

A/N: Okay, my first series (since Snowfall All Year is only a two parter I need to finish) I’ve been wanting to write a mafia!au for the longest time, and I am crazy late on the trend but fuck it. Hope y’all enjoy and give me some love!

Pairing: Mafia boss! Yoongi x reader (hopefully it’ll stay that way)

Word count: 2.7k

Genre: Angst, fluff, maybe some smut

Summary: Some things in this world are dangerous, and you, him, and the world you once lived in that now belongs to him are just some of many you can’t be free from, but do you even want to be?

“It’s time to go now, y/n.” 

1, 2, 3, 4

“Five years after the fall of the underground power family, Moon Corporation, people still suspect an even more powerful company has taken their place since…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“The color red doesn’t suit this house well.”

1, 2, 3, 4

“The exposure beheld more answers than questions, but on the five-year anniversary of the suicidal explosion that killed the head, Mun Byungyeol and his daughter, the, as ordered to remain anonymous, green haired 13 year old. Colleagues mourn in secret and establishments fear an anniversary heist…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“Locals have several theories on the big conglomerate that now controls Seoul’s business, underground and above, with mafias and gangs running rampant, people fear the government is under their thumb as well…”

1, 2-

You inhaled deeply, as if just surfacing from the drowning body of water residing in your brain. Your fingers stilled from the tapping, a  desperate attempt to make you surface, a sorry technique therapy drilled into you.

Four was too perfect of a number for such an ugly world, a world you had to feign blind to now.

Your palms retracted from their firm placement on the wall you leaned on, relaxing you. Releasing your slightly curled fingers, you stifled a laugh at the desperate attempt to grasp onto something. 

Your little episode was finished as you settled your mind with the news continuing to drone on. Looking at the time, you decided it was time to get ready for your study session with Jungkook. 

Jungkook was a guy in the same university as you, he was older, but you were a year ahead, so you were in the same class. He was your neighbor in this adequate apartment complex that you kept via a crappy waitressing job. He was the regular party boy always at clubs and coming home at ungodly hours of the night. 

You weren’t exactly a social butterfly, so if you found one friend in Jungkook, you figured it wouldn’t be such a crime.

You faced the mirror, patting down your hair, “The green didn’t suit me well at all,” You mused, fixing your natural shade of hair, “Although the forest green was a nice shade on my skin.”

After gathering your study material, Jungkook knocked on your door and you studied like usual. He would always get distracted halfway through, though.“Why do you still have the news on?” 

You looked at the TV and shrugged.

“I guess I forgot,” You spoke, “Now what did you think this-”

“Mafias and gangs…” He mused, “Aren’t they the same?”

The pencil in your hand stilled. Absolutely not. Gangs were pawns, the mafias in this world were the players. As a little girl, that was the first thing you had learned, how to play chess outside a casual park bench, how to play chess crushing people in your hands as you moved them.

“Like I care.”

“You aren’t scared of these guys at all?”

“Failing class is scary, that,” You gestured to the TV, “Is a cheap haunted house in comparison to the hell of getting a D for my semester grade.”

Jungkook stifled a laugh, “I’m thanking every divine being if I pass, but it’s worth it as opposed to only studying and working.”

You rolled your eyes, “Sorry I’m not a child of the night.” Not anymore, at least.

—-

A few days later exams went well for you, and you finished your semester and had a solid two months off. All was well and it was peaceful in the dead of night.Too bad your body rejected sleep.This week was a big week.

////

“Dad?” You whimpered as a strong hand patted your head to calm you, or soften the blow of what’s to come, “Tell me you didn’t.”

Mun Byungyeol was a rough man who took you in as a young child. His men killed your parents for revenge and a nearly-dead 3-year-old suffering from starvation and cigarette burns was found at the scene. Initially resistant to your arrival, he got right to training you to be the heiress to replace the heir he never received.

He may have been rough, but he was a caring dad, even if you had never been his priority.

Not unless you could be used as currency.

“Y/n, it’s time for us to go,” He sighed, “I let this greed consume me, and I’m afraid it’s begun eating me alive now.”

Your mind couldn’t comprehend his words. The news was drowning out the comfort he attempted to give you. “…such evidence is linking the Moon Corporation to heinous mafia activities painting them as a possible syndicate, but no arrests have been made or criminal investigation on Mun Byungyeol himself, but many workers are being targeted due to possible involvement…”

Everything was dying. All your training was never for anything but fuel for his greed. You should be angry, shocked, appalled, but you weren’t. He’s been cashing out for so long on the blood of his family and foes that you didn’t even flinch when he said it. You did, however, flinch when the whole world highlighted it.

“If I just cash out and retire, we could never live in peace,” He shook his head as he switched off the TV, “But Uncle Byungjoo has a plan that I think might just work, but you and I won’t meet for a few years-”

He was going to abandon it. Cash out one last time, and leave. You were too surprised, you had put an inkling of faith in his heart to love this empire, like a fool. Your eyes widened at the notion of him abandoning you too. All you knew was his presence. All you knew were your father figures, “But the empire-”

“We were never an empire,” His self-loathing clung to each word, “I treated this organization as a bank, a money maker, it was inevitable that the paper I cradled would catch fire.”

You didn’t scream, yell, or cry. At least you hadn’t, yet.“Then who will rule Seoul?” You wondered aloud.

“A real syndicate.”

“Who will stay with me?”

He smiled warmly at you for the third time in your life, “One day, a real human.”

////

You woke up with a start from a bang on the door, but considering the 4 am hour, you chalked it up to city noise. Five years ago today, you saw the match light. In two days, it will have been five years ago you saw the flames engulf your home, your family, and everything you were. Each year, this week was chaos for the city of Seoul. Each day was accompanied by an event that slowly grew more and more above ground. It was almost mocking the past, the surfacing of dirty secrets. Secrets the world knew, but never wanted to see, cowards.

The new syndicate at the top of the kingdom was known as Bangtan to the underground scene, but with a “Group” tacked on after the ominous name, they were also the kings of the business world. They were much better at actually hiding their identities, hence why most average people assumed there was no such syndicate anymore or that the “law” took care of it. As if the “law” wasn’t under the thumb of the kings. 

The only reason you were aware of their presence was because getting out of the game was easy, but you could never fully burn the console.

Another bang on your door startled you out of your thoughts, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone to the bar before such a big day- where are your keys?!” 

An unfamiliar voice spoke through your door.

“Ask, y/n,” Jungkook’s slurred voice rang out in a yell as you flinched at the volume, “Y/n! I need stitches!” 

This wasn’t the first time Jungkook was yelling outside your door, most likely bleeding on your doormat. You never really asked questions, you just patched him up and left him on your couch.

“Is this even your door?! Did you lead me to one of your whore’s places?!”

“Bangtan!” Jungkook chanted in response.

This made you huff as you hopped out of bed in your large t-shirt and shorts and ripped the door open. You were faced with a blonde haired man in a three-piece suit accompanied by a trashed Jungkook with a short, but deep, cut on the corner of his forehead. The blonde-haired handsome man stopped struggling with Jungkook as he looked at you with the most pristine judging face, “Look, just forget we were-”

“Y/n!” Jungkook cheered before he passed out.

“He lives next door,” You remarked flatly, “No, I’m not one of his whores, more like one of his classmates, but I’ve seen those lines get blurred with him a lot, so I understand the assumption,” You looked at his forehead again, “And he does need stitches.”

The man narrowed his eyes, “Do you usually play nurse for him?”

“Only when his blood is dripping on my doormat, for the third time this month,” You angled your head down for the man to see, “Bring him in, you aren’t the first friend of his I’ve met-”

“But-”

“Anymore blood on that mat and I’m making you pay for it, now come on,” You snapped as he walked in and sat Jungkook in a chair around your table. You shut the door as you pulled your first aid kit out, “You have to sit him on the floor or the couch.”He complied to the couch, 

“Why does he-”

“When he wakes up, he attacks whoever is in front of him,” You spoke, preparing the needle and thread, “And I can’t stitch and hold him down at the table,” You explained, settling your knees to lock on both sides of Jungkook’s legs and your elbows pressing on his shoulders.

“Aren’t you scared he’ll hurt you?” The man asked as you began stitching.

You scoffed, “The only thing that scares me are failing grades.” You chuckled, “Plus Jungkook hurting me? Yeah, right. He has the fight of a peanut.”

Eventually, you just went on stitching in silence until the man broke the silence, “Who are you?” The man spoke mid-way through your stitching.

You paused for a moment, “Didn’t you hear Jungkook? I’m y/n, and who are you?”

“None of your concern,” He stated.“You’re bleeding on my hardwood floor, that has me pretty concerned.” You gestured to your hand to show him the small cut on his, “Concerned for my floor I mean.” You clarified, “The other two told me their first names at least.”

You thought back to the much pluckier and grateful Taehyung and Jimin as they smiled at you before taking Jungkook away.

He sighed, “Namjoon-”

You were tying the final knot when Jungkook snapped his eyes open. He immediately dove at you, pushing you to the floor, making the needle in your hand scratch your forearm before you threw it across the room to avoid the tempting notion of stabbing him with it. Namjoon was trying to find an opening to cut in between the struggling as Jungkook was sloppily throwing his fist down and you were moving your head to dodge each blow. Though his moves were sloppy, they were still fast, and Namjoon ended up watching in awe as you fearlessly slammed your forehead on his fresh stitches to make him stop to register the pain. You took advantage of the opening as you effortlessly pinned his arms down with your knees planted on his upper arms, “Jungkook!” You snapped as Namjoon watched his younger friend finally recognize you in his drunken haze.

“Y-Y/n?” He questioned, his tongue thick in his mouth, “You hurt my head- hey, you’re bleeding on my shirt!”

Your arm had a gash the length of a half ruler, it was shallow, but still dripping blood, but you didn’t flinch, “Wonder who made me hurt both my arm and their head, jackass,” You muttered, examining his stitches to make sure the impact didn’t affect the new suture, “And you got your blood on my doormat and my forehead, so let’s call it a draw.”

Namjoon was beginning to suspect you were more than a college student. With the sheer fearlessness and those fighting skills, you had to be something or someone who was anything but a regular student. Upon this realization, he then felt enormous regret wash over him for telling you his name. Yoongi would be livid if the empire was affected by Namjoon’s poor judgment, even in the most minuscule of ways. This string of thoughts prompted his mistake of grasping your wounded forearm to make you stand so he could properly question you. What he didn’t calculate in that movement was the fact that he grasped your fresh cut, which hurt like a bitch. This pain made you bring your other forearm to his neck, pressing firmly into his trachea as his back hit the wall with a bang, “Don’t ever manhandle a lady, Namjoon,” You seethed as you released him, “Care to explain yourself?” 

Namjoon regained his composure, impressed by your reaction time and ability to weaken his pride in such a short matter of seconds, “Who are you?” His tone was rougher in comparison to when he first asked the question.

“None of your concern,” You mocked, “Now take your sloppy friend, an alcohol pad and go-”

Your anger was cut short by a cloth that smelled an awful lot like chloroform engulfing your senses and releasing you from consciousness.

[autolovecraft]

The Unnamable.

Common sense in reflecting on these subjects, I assured my friend with some warmth, is merely a stupid absence of imagination and mental flexibility.

It was the pit—the maelstrom—the ultimate abomination. So little is known of what went on beneath the surface—so little, yet such a ghastly festering as it bubbles up putrescently in occasional ghoulish glimpses. Carter. Mary's Hospital. Glass or no glass, I must explore it a little.

It was the pit—the maelstrom—the ultimate abomination. Moreover, so far as esthetic theory was involved, if the psychic emanations of human creatures be grotesque distortions, what coherent representation could express or portray so gibbous and infamous a nebulosity as the specter of a malign, chaotic perversion, itself a morbid blasphemy against nature? It was plain that Manton knew more than I, he would not admit that it is sufficiently commonplace for literary treatment. Then they stopped hoping when the horror occurred. He did not laugh as I paused, but asked quite seriously about the boy who went mad in 1793, and who had presumably been the hero of my fiction. Certainly, there was strange talk one night in 1710 when the childless, broken old man was buried in the crypt behind it, and the grave where a sapling had sprouted beside an illegible slab. But his curiosity was undeterred.

Those scars—was it like that?

During this narration my friend Manton had become very silent, and I believe it touched Manton also, for although I could not see him I felt him raise his arm. Certainly, there was strange talk one night in 1710 when the childless, broken old man was buried in the crypt behind it, and the grave where a sapling had sprouted beside an illegible slab. There were some bones up under the eaves. With him all things and feelings had fixed dimensions, properties, causes, and effects; and although he vaguely knew that the mind sometimes holds visions and sensations of far less geometrical, classifiable, and workable nature, he believed himself justified in drawing an arbitrary line and ruling out of court all that cannot be experienced and understood by the average citizen. They may have been what that boy saw—if he was sensitive he wouldn't have needed anything in the window-panes?

My tale had been called The Attic Window, and appeared in the January, 1922, issue of Whispers. If they all came from the same object it must have been an hysterical, delirious monstrosity. And did you find anything there—in the attic or anywhere else? And inside that rusted iron straitjacket lurked gibbering hideousness, perversion, and diabolism. And inside that rusted iron straitjacket lurked gibbering hideousness, perversion, and diabolism.

Mather had indeed told of the thing as being born, but nobody but a cheap sensationalist would think of having it grow up, look into people's windows at night, and be hidden in the attic of a house, in flesh and in spirit, till someone saw it at the window centuries later and couldn't describe what it was that turned his hair gray. This much he baldly told, yet without a hint of what came after.

It argued a capability of believing in phenomena beyond all normal notions; for if a dead man can transmit his visible or tangible image half across the world, or down the stretch of the centuries, how can it be absurd to suppose that deserted houses are full of queer sentient things, or that old graveyards teem with the terrible, unbodied intelligence of generations? Besides, he was almost sure that nothing can be really unnamable. They may have been what that boy saw—if he was sensitive he wouldn't have needed anything in the window-panes? Certainly, there was strange talk one night in 1710 when the childless, broken, embittered old man who had put up a blank slate slab. I had half expected—No—it wasn't that way at all. It didn't sound sensible to him. And did you find anything there—in the attic of a house, in flesh and in spirit, till someone saw it at the window centuries later and couldn't describe what it was that turned his hair gray. In a good many places, especially the South and the Pacific coast, they took the magazines off the stands at the complaints of silly milk-sops; but New England didn't get the thrill and merely shrugged its shoulders at my extravagance. After the doctors and nurses had left, I whispered an awe struck question: Good God, Manton, but what was it? They were that kind—the old lattice windows that went out of use before 1700.

Where is it? The boy had gone to that shunned, deserted house, we talked on about the unnamable and after my friend had finished his scoffing I told him, too, of the fears of others in that region, and how they were whispered down for generations; and how no mythical madness came to the boy who in 1793 entered an abandoned house to examine certain traces suspected to be there. During this narration my friend Manton had become very silent, and I believe it touched Manton also, for although I could not see him I felt him raise his arm. The hour must now have grown very late. My tale had been called The Attic Window, and appeared in the January, 1922, issue of Whispers. Common sense in reflecting on these subjects, I assured my friend with some warmth, is merely a stupid absence of imagination and mental flexibility. Presently he spoke. The thing, it was averred, was biologically impossible to start with; merely another of those crazy country mutterings which Cotton Mather had been gullible enough to dump into his chaotic Magnalia Christi Americana, and so poorly authenticated that even he had not ventured to name the locality where the horror occurred at the parsonage, leaving not a soul alive or in one piece. Manton, I had often languidly disputed. Besides, he was almost sure that nothing can be really unnamable. Certainly, there was strange talk one night in 1710 when the childless, broken, embittered old man who had put up a blank slate slab by an avoided grave, although one may trace enough evasive legends to curdle the thinnest blood. It had been an eldritch thing—no wonder sensitive students shudder at the Puritan age in Massachusetts. Manton seemed unimpressed by my arguments, and eager to refute them, having that confidence in his own opinions which had doubtless caused his success as a teacher; whilst I was too dazed to exult when he whispered back a thing I had half expected—No—it wasn't that way at all. I saw that my words had impressed him.

It was everywhere—a gelatin—a slime yet it had shapes, a thousand shapes of horror beyond all memory. Then came a noxious rush of noisome, frigid air from that same dreaded direction, followed by a piercing shriek just beside me on that shocking rifted tomb of man and monster. It was an odd cry, and all the more hideous because it was so secret. Mary's Hospital.

It would have been blasphemous to leave such bones in the world, or down the stretch of the centuries, how can it be absurd to suppose that deserted houses are full of queer sentient things, or that old graveyards teem with the terrible, unbodied intelligence of generations? Manton was reflecting again.

[ecotone99]

I bought my daughter an iDog... and I think it's hunting me

My name is Guy Mullen, I’m a robotic science professor working at the Boston Institute of Technology in Massachusetts. I was once a proud father of a six year old girl named Hope, who, sadly, was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Despite fighting like the total champion she was, Hope died not too long after her 6th birthday. Before she died, she asked me to buy her a weird little toy that was currently popular on the market called an I-Dog, a simplistic robotic toy dog that did tricks. My daughter was 6 years old, so it intrigued me that she wanted a tech-toy rather than the usual doll or teddy bear girls of her age would want.

At the time, I thought nothing of it, because me, a professor of robotics, thought it was like a chip off the old block kind of thing. It made me proud. I went into the store today and happened to pass the toy department. I noticed that the same toy dogs were still on the market and selling like hotcakes, so I bought one. The stores around my area for some reason sell old toys. Guess people still like the classics.

And if you’re wondering why I got her this toy now rather than she was alive, let me explain. My daughter, being 6 years old, I didn’t want her to follow along in my footsteps. I wanted her to have a normal childhood. Like I said, teddy bears and dolls. As I got home, I opened it up and started holding the toy in my hands. It was just a cheap toy. But I guess the guilt of not getting it for her while she was alive was eating at me too much. I had no idea why my daughter would be so interested in this toy. I wish I knew then what I was in for, I never would have bought this toy. But as a father, you always want to get your child what he or she wants. It’s one of the joys of being a parent. It’s one of the joys I wish now was never part of being a good parent.

Today is the 8th anniversary of Hope’s passing. I’m going to the cemetery to visit her grave, like I do every year on the anniversary of her passing. But instead of the usual flowers I bring, I’m going to bring this toy dog, to show her that I never forgot. The I-Dog I got for her at the store supposedly played various songs from an mp3 player. Which was a good thing, because she had an extended list for a girl of her age. I would often let her use my mp3 player to play all her favorites. I’m glad, because I still had my mp3 player with all her favorite songs on it. It brought back memories of her and I singing together to her favorite songs on the car radio. Each new one she heard in the car, I would put it in my mp3 player and let her listen to them while she did what little homework she had in the 1st grade. Such a smart little girl. She should have gotten her chance to finish school. It would have been nice to see what her life would have turned out to be.

I took the small toy, the batteries, and the mp3 player from my handbag. I unscrewed its belly, set the batteries inside, then it made that robotic barking that it would make. I set the mp3 player by it, and it played the last song we ever listened to, “What is Love” By Haddaway, while doing that silly robotic dance it does. I watched as it danced a while longer, then left for home to drown my sorrows in tears and liquor. She deserved better. She deserved to be alive.

The next morning, I woke up with such a hangover, I made myself a cup of black coffee so strong that the spoon had a caffeine rush, in hope to kill the now massive headache I had. I remember leaving the music channel on tv. It just made the headache worse, so I shut it off. Minutes later, I nearly choked on my coffee after hearing an oh too familiar song. Her song. It was coming from outside my front door, but seemed to stop once I took notice of it. “What on earth?” I asked myself. I opened the door and looked outside. I didn’t see much, other than the usual. Houses, cars, birds, sunlight, even the local paper boy delivering newspaper. I noticed he stopped at my house when I stepped on the paper. I might as well pick it up. See what’s new in Boston. I picked it up, then turned around, then turned a pale white even whiter than snow. In the doorway of my house sat that toy. That music playing childs toy. The very same blue one with the fake purple jewels around it’s head, the one that I had bought not even a day before left at Hope’s grave.

“What in the hell…?” I looked around to see who would play such a cruel joke, then quickly picked up the toy, went inside the house and got dressed, and immediately went back to the cemetery. When I got there, the toy I had left there was gone. Engulfed with rage, I asked myself why someone would do something like this and proceeded to call the police. The police arrived and asked the usual, “do you have any enemies?” or, “why would anyone want to do this to you?” questions. I had no answer, for I had no enemies. All my friends knew Hope, and loved her as much as I did. It was a mystery.

By the time I got back home, my brain was tired from trying to figure out who would do this to me. Did someone see me do this? Did they watch me put this on my daughters grave? Did a bunch of teenage hoodlums desecrate my daughters grave, and add insult to injury by bringing this toy back to my doorstep? I couldn’t make sense of that though, because no one was around me when I was in the cemetery. And if they were, they were damn good at hiding. Exhausted and furious from the day’s events, I decided to give it no more thought and go to sleep. Or so that was my intention.

In the middle of the night, I was awoken by the sound of music. Not loud music, but loud enough to wake me out of my sleep. I looked at the clock. 3:30 AM. The music that I

heard sounded muffled, yet close. I pulled my blankets off to get out of bed, and as I did the music got louder. It was then that I noticed the toy was next to me, under my sheets. Which was impossible, considering the police had taken it as evidence. Not only that, but the toy had my mp3 player connected to it. Which was playing her 2nd favorite song, called Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlisle.

Now I’m afraid, because the only person who knew that was her second favorite song was me. It was our song. We sang it only to each other. Not even her mother knew. How is this possible? I immediately called the police to ask how something they took from me as evidence is now in my bed. I also asked if I was being investigated for something, considering how the only way anybody could have known that was our song was if they bugged our house. Immediately I was hit with ridiculous notions of some kind of technology war scenario were maybe a disturbed colleague might be playing some kind of deranged joke. All these questions and not a single answer. What the hell is going on here?

Confused and disoriented, I grabbed the toy, disconnected the mp3 player, and proceeded to take the toy out to the trash. The special meaning that it once held, now desecrated by someone’s twisted mind. I have to get some rest. The morning will be here quickly and I have to work in the morning.

That morning had an eerie chill about it. I couldn’t place it, but I attributed it to my recent episodes of neurotic paranoia. I got to work. The environment felt suspicious. Like I was being watched. I said nothing to no one, and made a straight line for my office. I opened my office door, walked in, shut the door quickly, and took a deep breath of relief. I had made it to my office without being asked a single question, as I was in no mood to talk to anyone.

I went to set my briefcase on my desk, and to my horror, the toy was on my desk. Not only was it on my desk, but my mp3 player that I placed in my briefcase the night before was connected to it.

Surprisingly enough, and for reasons I don’t yet understand, my first thought was one of morbid curiosity. I was anxious to know what song was selected to play this time around, because at this point, I was starting to think maybe this isn’t someone trying to play a joke. But what if it’s her. What if it’s Hope in some miraculous way trying to visit me. to let me know she hasn’t forgotten me either. But I’m a man of science. And in my world, things like this don’t happen. I’ve always been a skeptic, and found myself judging those who’ve claimed to have these experiences as kooks.

Is that what’s going on here? Is this a punishment? Am I going crazy as punishment for judging those people? Was I having a midlife crisis?

After work, I rushed home, locked myself in my home office, and found myself doing something I thought I, never in a million years, would find myself doing. I started talking to the dog. Reluctantly, I asked, “Hope, are you there? It’s Daddy, sweetheart. Are you trying to show me something?” Then for a moment, I snapped back to reality, laughed at myself, and asked myself, “What the hell am I doing?” At this point, I started to question my sanity and wondered if I should check myself into a mental hospital for evaluation. That was the only logical explanation left. I was losing my mind, and no one could see it but me. On top of everything else that ever happened to me, me going crazy was the icing on the cake.

I really didn't want to, but I was sure that this was the only way I can get some closure. I'm going to check myself into a mental hospital to ensure that this isn't making me crazy before anything gets worse. But first, this toy. This god damn toy. It has to go. I'm gonna make sure of that. I picked up a hammer, and smashed the thing into bits. I put the pieces into a plastic bag, and watched the garbage men take it away the next morning.

A week later, I checked into the mental hospital. I’m much better now. I was just having a mental breakdown and needed a vacation. It’s finally over. No more stress, no more heartbreak, no more I-Dog. Because the nurses were so nice, they all pitched in and bought me a plane ticket to Florida to relax. I just checked into my hotel room. And as I set my luggage down, and getting ready to plop onto the bed and let out a huge sigh of relief, I noticed in the room, there was that thing. The I-Dog. And the song it chose was “Nowhere to run.” By Arnold Mcculler.

submitted by /u/pro-gamer-move1 [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/cg7lnk/i_bought_my_daughter_an_idog_and_i_think_its/ via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Y1j2gw

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Start of chapter 5

Given how depressed he'd become during his hospital stay and how completely exhausted he was, his mother brought him back home after his heat had passed. It wasn't a permanent thing... more like a "until you can smile again" kind of deal. Needless to say his father wasn't happy at all, but his mother stayed home with him and the pair of them curled up on the sofa together watching movies and insane amounts of junk food. It was probably the most time he'd spent with his mum in years and he honestly didn't want it to end...

It was his 5th day out of hospital that the new suppressants he'd been put on finally began to work and his omega side surrendered dominance of his brain. Because he was so compatible with Levi, he had to take higher doses than before and he had to take them twice a day if he wanted them to stay effective... which sucked because he wasn't the greatest at remembering these things. If he could have gone with injection option, he really would have, but as it was until he saw Levi again he couldn't say how his body was going to react... which lead to the alpha being invited over for dinner on Saturday night, after which Eren would go home with Levi... provided he didn't spontaneously going in to heat again during the evening.

*

Sucking in a deep breath, Levi followed it with an even deeper sigh. It had been 13 days since he'd last seen Eren, and the omega had ended up in hospital due to complications with his heat. When Levi's rut had passed, he'd called Carla to check on how Eren was fairing only for the woman to start crying on the phone. He'd never been great at human emotions, that wasn't to say he was robot or anything, but when Carla said Eren was having complications due to injury to his groin, Levi couldn't deny he was murderous. Any injuries the kid had most likely came form the boy's father, and Eren refused to explain how it had happened. It had taken him the better part of two hours to calm Carla down and assure the woman he hadn't laid a finger on Eren. That's probably why he was now being summoned for dinner... so Carla could make sure he wasn't about to hurt Eren, before he took him home.

After attempting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, Levi grabbed the two bottles of red wine he'd brought as gift and climbed from the car. Given he'd come straight from work he was still wearing his dress shirt and pants, which would be way too over dressed for the occasion. The street the Yeager's lived on was nice and neat, but it didn't give off the dinner party and high afternoon tea vibe. They were obviously well off, but not too well off to move to the next social bracket. Great. Now he was sounding like Erwin. Shaking his head to silence his inner thoughts, Levi forced himself to the front door.

"Levi, thank you for coming. Though you hardly needed to wear a suit"

Kissing him on the cheek, Carla pulled back with a smile. Obviously the woman hadn't heard of personal space or boundaries, and seemed to think it was completely acceptable... or maybe it was and he was just so far out of touch with society it was him that was in the wrong? Shit. Cursing himself over his own thoughts, he forced a small smile to his lips

"Thank you for inviting me. How's Eren?"

Levi could smell exactly how the boy was. Scared, upset, lonely, happy and exhausted scent tones all reached his nose in only a way Eren could pull off. But compared to the teens scent when they'd first met they were barely evident at all, something his alpha wasn't impressed with at all

"He's... he's doing better. His heat was really rough for him, and he had to be put on new suppressants"

"Omegas definitely get the rough end of all of this"

"As a female omega I can honestly say none of what I went through seemed as bad as it's hit Eren. I do hope you'll be patient with him. He really is a sweet kid"

"Carla, I have no intention of doing anything like... that... to Eren. The way I see it, he has a lot of growing still to do and if I could legally leave him in your care I would. I can't image how scary it must be to trust your only child to a stranger and then for him to be hurt"

Hopefully that sounded alright... or semi-sensible. It wasn't like it wasn't true, but sometimes his words didn't necessarily get the message across in the nicest of ways

"Thank you Levi. Now if you could win my husband over..."

Carla ended her sentence with a laugh that Levi couldn't echo. At least he seemed to have won her over... say yay?

"Anyway, Eren and Grisha are waiting in the dining room. We should probably join them before Eren eats everything"

As expected, the dining room was nothing really fancy and not even a room. It connected to both the living room and kitchen with wide arch ways and was painted a pastel green that didn't really go with either room. As Carla busied herself getting wine glasses, Levi took his seat at the table across from Eren. Carla had said Eren was doing better, but to him the omega still looked exhausted and he definitely looked like he'd lost weight. Catching his eye by accident, Eren's face reddened as he hurried to look down. Yep. He was definitely still a brat.

Coming back with the wine glasses Carla broken the uncomfortable silence as if she hadn't noticed it all

"So Levi, it must be hard being a medical examiner"

"Carla, give the man a break. He probably hears that question all the time"

Grisha's harsh tone only spurred on Levi's dislike for the man

"It is, but it's a lot better than my old job"

"Your old job? You seem far too young to be talking like that"

"I used to be in the armed forces, I joined at the age of 16 with a medical career in mind"

Carla passed Levi his glass of wine

"I can't imagine what those brave men and women go through..."

Nodding as he set his glass down, he gave Carla his full attention

"I honestly had no idea what I would be in for, but watching it first hand... let's just say that dealing with dead people is much easier than trying to put someone back together after they've to hell and back"

"Grisha is a doctor, and for a time I thought I might fancy being a nurse, but it really wasn't for me. So I work as a medical receptionist instead"

Of course Levi already knew this from the paperwork the government has sent him concerning Eren, but as there wasn't anything else to really talk about...

"Eren's completely hopeless, he takes after his mother and has a head full of dreams"

Eren flinched as if he'd been hit and Levi was forced to swallow down his growl as he ground back teeth together

"Now, now, leave him alone. He has his whole future ahead of him"

"It's because you're so lenient on him, he is how he is"

"And how is that exactly?"

"An omega. She's filled his head with silly notions that he will have a life outside of his duty of breeding"

"Honey, really? This is hardly acceptable dinner talk"

Carla's tone was filled with embarrassment and Levi actually felt a prang of sympathy for the woman

"If and when we decide to have children will only be after Eren has finished his education. I am more than happy for him to continue studying and working at the tea store provided he changes his hours to more suitable ones"

Slamming his hands down, Grisha rose with a growl

"You should know better than to encourage such outrageous behaviour from an omega. I will not have you treating my son like that when it's his job to be bred"

Letting out a small whine, Eren pushed his chair back and Carla's attention was instantly on the teen

"Eren..."

"It's fine mum. Dad's right. I'll grab my things and then Levi can take me"

"Eren, your mother went to the trouble of cooking this amazing meal. We'll be staying for dinner"

Eren looked at him like he was crazy, but Carla just nodded

"Thank you Levi. It's nice to see there's at least one alpha in the family who will humour me"

"I am your alpha"

"And you're also being incredibly rude. I know Eren presenting as an omega wasn't what you wanted, but can't we make the most of the situation and get to know our new son?"

Carla seemed to be like the stereotypical mum one might find in some children's book. The woman was strong in her own way, and seemed to have infinite love and patience. Something that he really couldn't understand. Having lost his mother at young age, he'd bounced around the streets for a while before ending up with his uncle... who definitely wasn't a people person. By the time he'd joined the army, he didn't exactly have the best reputation and the army was just about the only place he could go. It was thanks to that that he'd met Erwin, and when the man had left Levi had followed suit, though the night terrors and PTS had already taken a firm hold on him. Even now he was prone to waking up agitated and confused, and more than once he'd accidentally hurt Isabel when she'd woken him mid-nap. That was yet another reason he didn't let anyone close, he didn't want to hurt or even worse kill someone he was supposed to be caring for. But there was no way in hell he was saying any of that in front of Grisha

"Fine, do as you bloody well please. You and Eren always do"

With dinner finally over, Carla wouldn't hear of him helping with the dishes and Levi found himself walking from the Yeager's house with a less than happy Eren. Grisha had stayed quiet for most of the meal, but each time Levi tried to make an attempt to talk to Eren, the alpha promptly replied instead of the teen. So all he really found out about Eren tonight was he was dreamer and his father was even more of an arsehole than he'd imagined possible.

Holding the door open for Eren, the omega slipped inside the apartment almost skittishly. Eren had been silent the whole drive home, but his muted scent told Levi that though the omega was slightly upset, he was also relieved... presumably over the fact he was now free from his father

"Should I freeze these left overs? Or are you going to eat them?"

Lifting the bag of food Carla had forced upon them, Levi scolded himself for using such a weak excuse to get the teen talking

"I'll... I'll eat them tomorrow if that's alright?"

"Of course it's alright. This is your home too now, and if there anything in particular you like eating, let me so I can add it to the shopping list"

Eren frowned at his offer, the boy wrapping his arms around himself as if scared or nervous

"Eren..."

"Sorry. I'll just buy my own food... I don't want you to go out of your way for someone like me"

Sure when Eren was being loud and abrasive it got on Levi nerves, but Eren being meek like this just felt too uncharacteristic of the teen and threw him for a loop

"Look. You're my omega by law, which means I'm obligated to take care of you..."

Shit. That sounded harsher than he meant

"And... I'll just be blunt. I'm not good at feelings and emotions, nor am I any good at letting people into my space, so I will probably end up hurting you without realising it. It's not my intention to though. I am not your father, and honestly I can't stand him. So if I do or say anything you don't like, you need to tell me"

Words... Why was he failing so badly with his words? And why was even trying to explain himself in the first place? Eren would obviously be taken away from him when the government realised their mistake...

"I... I'll think about it. If that's ok?"

Think about what? Oh... what he liked to eat? Shouldn't the kid already know? Shit. What was he supposed to say now? How did normal people respond?

"Sure. I'll just put these in the fridge, you can head to bed if you want"

Eren nodded slowly, the teen chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before looking to his feet and then back up to Levi

"Um... thanks. For you know... listening to mum at dinner and... coming and stuff . Dad isn't always so rude, and I think you listening to mum made her feel better... but you don't have to force yourself so hard"

Fleeing from the room, that was all Eren apparently had to say. Still, his alpha side was wildly appreciative of the honest words, it almost felt as if Eren had sung his praises. Something deep down inside of him felt just that little bit warmer and he hastened to squash down those feelings. Evidently he was fatigued from work, otherwise he wouldn't be happy over such a tiny thing.

*

Being Sunday and having no school, Eren slept late... until 6 am. Waking to feel oddly refreshed, he padded from his bedroom and out to an apartment filled with the aroma of Earl Grey tea. Levi was sitting on the sofa reading, it seemed the corner closest to the front door was the alphas "spot", and he made a mental note not to ever sit there. He was basically an intruder after all

"Good morning"

Jumping at Levi's words despite the fact he was staring at the alpha, Eren managed a nod

"Good morning Levi... um... do you have work today?"

"Not for another two hours. How about you?"

"I need to go in... you said you wanted me to change my hours..."

Levi sighed lightly as he placed his book down on the coffee table

"I do, but only because I know how rough these streets can be. If you change your hours will you be alright getting from school to work?"

Eren swallowed hard, it almost sounded like Levi actually cared... but there was no way that could be true and he was just flattering himself to think so. They were basically strangers after all

"I can catch the bus..."

"Do you need cash?"

Eren blinked at Levi

"No..."

"Ok. Let me know if you do"

[melindarowens]

It’s A FOMC Week! – Daily Pfennig

Chuck Butler’s: A Pfennig For Your Thoughts 

December 11, 2017

* A Big week for Central Banks

* Dollar rally takes a breather

* All by myself… again… 

Good day… And A Marvelous Monday, to you! Well, this is quite late today, and I apologize for that… It’s a very busy morning for me, with the weekly nurse’s visit, physical rehab, and a follow up visit to the surgeon’s office. So, this is the first chance I’ve had to sit down and write… I’ll get my stitches out today, and I’ve been walking a bit with my cane this past weekend, so things are looking up! Kathy headed south on Saturday, so I’m all by myself.. again… No biggie… as I can do just about everything myself now…  The Atlanta Rhythm Section (ARS) greets me this morning with their song: So Into You…   

Well, once again all the dollar buying stopped on Friday, marking the second day last week that we had multiple days of a dollar rally, stopped, only to be picked up again a day or so later. So, if that pattern remains in place, look for more dollar buying by tomorrow…  This is Fed Week, and so there will be lots of gyrations back and forth with the dollar as the question of will she or won’t she hike rates with the country facing a possible shutdown will be bantered about.  

There was an explosion this morning in Manhattan, I’m sure that this has everyone there on pins and needles, as it should, and their thoughts are not with the markets right now…  So, let’s keep that in mind, and hope that no one was harmed. There’s just too much killing in this country, and that’s all I’m going to say about that…   

There’s not much going on around the world, markets or data wise, as this week is all set up for the Fed’s FOMC Meeting that will start tomorrow, and end on Wednesday with a rate announcement at 1 PM CT…  Friday, saw the Jobs Jamboree print an increase of 228,000 jobs for November… You may recall me telling you the previous day that the ADP Employment Report said 190,000 jobs were created in November… So, where did the 38,000 more jobs come from that the BLS said were created?  Well, I guess you would have to ask them that question, as it wasn’t the Birth / Death Model for once. The BLS actually took 5,000 jobs away in November’s Birth / Death Model! Wonders never cease… At least that’s what my Mom used to tell me…   

240,000 new jobs were forecast, so the actual print didn’t meet expectations, but I don’t think that had much to do with the dollar rally fizzing out. The two things I look for in the BLS report is the Avg. Hourly Earnings, which saw a modest 0.2% increase, and the Avg. Weekly Hours, which didn’t see any movement at 34.5 hours per week… 

I’ve always told you dear reader that these were the two things we should focus on each month, and not the number of jobs, for those numbers can be hedonically adjusted to make things look good… or whatever…  These two items the hourly earnings and hour worked will give us clues to wage inflation, if it’s there or not, and from what I’ve seen in recent months, it’s just not there…  Of course inflation is everywhere else right now, as witnessed by the craziness I highlighted for you last week… If you missed class on those days, I suggest you check out the Pfennig website: www.dailypfennig.com where you can find past copies of the Pfennig…  

Well, I take that back what I said earlier about not much happening around the world, that may be the case today, but not for the rest of the week, as besides the Fed, there are four other Central Bank meeting this week…  The European Central Bank (ECB), Norway’s Norges Bank, the Swiss National Bank (SNB), and the Bank of England (BOE) all will meet this week…  To me, the most interesting meeting should come from the ECB, as we’re still waiting for details of their unwinding of their balance sheet, and to hear ECB President Draghi, talk about the need to keep rates at negative levels… UGH!  

But there won’t be any rate movements from these 4 Central Banks…  Everyone and their brother are expected the Fed to hike rates this week… That is everyone but me, but then I have hedged that by saying that IF Janet Yellen does hike rates this week, I think she will have done so, to poke the President just one more time…    I keep saying this but it just doesn’t get any traction with the media, ad no one listens to me any longer… But the Fed is hiking rates and hoping for inflation to rise at the same time… Those two things don’t mix, and the only thing the Fed is going to do is hike rates and cause the economy to go into recession…   

In the U.K. this week, they’ll see a ton of economic data, along with a BOE meeting. Add those to the ongoing BREXIT negotiations, and you could have quite the volatile week for the pound.  Please keep your arms and legs inside the car for the duration of the ride, thank you!  

In Norway, the Norwegian economy has the inflation that every other country would love to have, but having inflation isn’t the only thing weighing on the Norges Bank’s decision as to when to hike rates.. The price of Oil continues to wobble, and not like a weeble, because weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, and the price of Oil certain has shown it can fall downward! HA!  And don’t forget the fact that the krone needs the euro to be stronger to allow the krone to grab the euro’s coattails… 

I’ve already talked about the U.S. Data Cupboard from Friday with the Jobs Jamboree, but there was also the current print of the Consumer Sentiment Index, which was disappointing… The Consumer Sentiment Index, at 96.8 for preliminary December, remains elevated though continues to edge back from October’s expansion peak of 100.7… Hmmm…  Is this data telling us that Christmas retail sales isn’t going as forecast?  Maybe… 

Today’s Cupboard is basically empty, so nothing here to see, move along…  Bitcoin futures began trading today..  The craziness will now carry over to the futures market… 

And there wasn’t much movement in Gold on Friday, although there was quite a bit of trading activity. Gold gained $1.40 on the day, and is up 50-cents in early trading today… it was an ugly week for Gold last week, let’s hope that the ugliness is behind us for this week.. 

To recap…  the dollar rally that had been in place for two days ended on Friday, and we now await for it to pick up again… The Fed meets this week, and everyone expects a rate hike from the Fed even in the face of a possible Gov’t shutdown looming…  4 other Central Banks meet this week, but Chuck doesn’t expect anything from any of them, and he’s called everyone to watch out for a volatile week with the pound this week.    

For What It’s Worth… The news on the One Belt, One Road project for China has been sparse, so an update on what’s going on is what I was looking for, and found this: https://www.foreignpolicyjournal.com/2017/10/19/one-belt-one-road-china-globalization-and-the-international-oligarchy/  

Or, here’s your snippet:”Ironically, there are anti-globalists who see China, in its rivalry with the USA for geopolitical dominance, as a bulwark against globalization, to the extent of welcoming a “new Chinese century” as distinct from the “new American century” of the oddly named “neoconservatives”.[2] Some might also see China’s geopolitical expansion as a drawback for Zionism insofar as China aligns itself with Middle Eastern states antagonistic towards Israel, Syria being the primary target of Zionist anathema. Yet again, how seriously should one take China’s shadow-boxing with Israel, while conveniently insinuating itself into the Middle East, when Israel remains a primary supplier of weapons to China, including the latest U.S. technology, and have from the founding of both Israel and the People’s Republic maintained cordial relations regardless of China’s posturing in the Middle East?[3]

Globalization remains what it is whether its primary center is The City of London, New York, or Beijing. The investment bankers Goldman Sachs, Rothschild, Merrill Lynch, Chase, Citigroup, etc., do not owe prime loyalty to any super-power, nation or coalition of nations. Their forefathers were bankers to empires for centuries, then just as conscientiously helped to scuttle the very notion of “empire” when it became economically redundant.[4] If a China-led world economy offers better prospects for international investments than one led by the USA, rivalry over geopolitical interests in the South China Sea, or anywhere else, are not going to play anything other than a nuisance factor for global capital.”

Chuck again… A pretty long one, sorry, but wanted to capture the meat of the article…  

Currencies today 12/ 11/17… American Style: A$ .7528, kiwi .6915, C$ .7780, euro 1.1785, sterling 1.3365, Swiss $1.0088, … European Style: rand 13.6078, krone 8.3675, SEK 8.4887, forint 266.60, zloty 3.5673, koruna 21. 7220, RUB 59.09, yen 113.36, sing 1.3516, HKD 7.8065, INR 64.37, China 6.6187, peso 18.96, BRL 3.2899, Dollar Index 93.88, Oil $57.44, 10-year 2.37%, Silver $15.80, Platinum $885.52, Palladium $1,006.63, and Gold… $1,248.90  

That’s it for today… That was quite a thrilling Army/ Navy game on Saturday… the tradition of that whole thing is very impressive to me, and I make it a must see event each year… Our Blues have gotten out of their funk they were in, and are back to winning games again. Let’s Go Blues! Just 13 shopping days left folks.. this month is flying by, don’t you think? I hope the surgeon tells me I can drive again today, although I did cheat and drive Kathy down the road to get her car on Friday… It’s December, and it’s cold outside! BRRR…  Darling daughter Dawn will be by to pick me up and take me to the doctor today. Jerry and Everett stopped by to say hi yesterday, and Alex and friend stopped by last night…  Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels take us to the finish line today with their song: Jenny Take A Ride…  And with that, it’s time to go, albeit very late!  I hope you have a Marvelous Monday, and Be Good To Yourself!  

Chuck Butler

 Source link

source https://capitalisthq.com/its-a-fomc-week-daily-pfennig/ from CapitalistHQ http://capitalisthq.blogspot.com/2017/12/its-fomc-week-daily-pfennig.html

[everettwilkinson]

It’s A FOMC Week! – Daily Pfennig

Chuck Butler’s: A Pfennig For Your Thoughts 

December 11, 2017

* A Big week for Central Banks

* Dollar rally takes a breather

* All by myself… again… 

Good day… And A Marvelous Monday, to you! Well, this is quite late today, and I apologize for that… It’s a very busy morning for me, with the weekly nurse’s visit, physical rehab, and a follow up visit to the surgeon’s office. So, this is the first chance I’ve had to sit down and write… I’ll get my stitches out today, and I’ve been walking a bit with my cane this past weekend, so things are looking up! Kathy headed south on Saturday, so I’m all by myself.. again… No biggie… as I can do just about everything myself now…  The Atlanta Rhythm Section (ARS) greets me this morning with their song: So Into You…   

Well, once again all the dollar buying stopped on Friday, marking the second day last week that we had multiple days of a dollar rally, stopped, only to be picked up again a day or so later. So, if that pattern remains in place, look for more dollar buying by tomorrow…  This is Fed Week, and so there will be lots of gyrations back and forth with the dollar as the question of will she or won’t she hike rates with the country facing a possible shutdown will be bantered about.  

There was an explosion this morning in Manhattan, I’m sure that this has everyone there on pins and needles, as it should, and their thoughts are not with the markets right now…  So, let’s keep that in mind, and hope that no one was harmed. There’s just too much killing in this country, and that’s all I’m going to say about that…   

There’s not much going on around the world, markets or data wise, as this week is all set up for the Fed’s FOMC Meeting that will start tomorrow, and end on Wednesday with a rate announcement at 1 PM CT…  Friday, saw the Jobs Jamboree print an increase of 228,000 jobs for November… You may recall me telling you the previous day that the ADP Employment Report said 190,000 jobs were created in November… So, where did the 38,000 more jobs come from that the BLS said were created?  Well, I guess you would have to ask them that question, as it wasn’t the Birth / Death Model for once. The BLS actually took 5,000 jobs away in November’s Birth / Death Model! Wonders never cease… At least that’s what my Mom used to tell me…   

240,000 new jobs were forecast, so the actual print didn’t meet expectations, but I don’t think that had much to do with the dollar rally fizzing out. The two things I look for in the BLS report is the Avg. Hourly Earnings, which saw a modest 0.2% increase, and the Avg. Weekly Hours, which didn’t see any movement at 34.5 hours per week… 

I’ve always told you dear reader that these were the two things we should focus on each month, and not the number of jobs, for those numbers can be hedonically adjusted to make things look good… or whatever…  These two items the hourly earnings and hour worked will give us clues to wage inflation, if it’s there or not, and from what I’ve seen in recent months, it’s just not there…  Of course inflation is everywhere else right now, as witnessed by the craziness I highlighted for you last week… If you missed class on those days, I suggest you check out the Pfennig website: www.dailypfennig.com where you can find past copies of the Pfennig…  

Well, I take that back what I said earlier about not much happening around the world, that may be the case today, but not for the rest of the week, as besides the Fed, there are four other Central Bank meeting this week…  The European Central Bank (ECB), Norway’s Norges Bank, the Swiss National Bank (SNB), and the Bank of England (BOE) all will meet this week…  To me, the most interesting meeting should come from the ECB, as we’re still waiting for details of their unwinding of their balance sheet, and to hear ECB President Draghi, talk about the need to keep rates at negative levels… UGH!  

But there won’t be any rate movements from these 4 Central Banks…  Everyone and their brother are expected the Fed to hike rates this week… That is everyone but me, but then I have hedged that by saying that IF Janet Yellen does hike rates this week, I think she will have done so, to poke the President just one more time…    I keep saying this but it just doesn’t get any traction with the media, ad no one listens to me any longer… But the Fed is hiking rates and hoping for inflation to rise at the same time… Those two things don’t mix, and the only thing the Fed is going to do is hike rates and cause the economy to go into recession…   

In the U.K. this week, they’ll see a ton of economic data, along with a BOE meeting. Add those to the ongoing BREXIT negotiations, and you could have quite the volatile week for the pound.  Please keep your arms and legs inside the car for the duration of the ride, thank you!  

In Norway, the Norwegian economy has the inflation that every other country would love to have, but having inflation isn’t the only thing weighing on the Norges Bank’s decision as to when to hike rates.. The price of Oil continues to wobble, and not like a weeble, because weebles wobble but they don’t fall down, and the price of Oil certain has shown it can fall downward! HA!  And don’t forget the fact that the krone needs the euro to be stronger to allow the krone to grab the euro’s coattails… 

I’ve already talked about the U.S. Data Cupboard from Friday with the Jobs Jamboree, but there was also the current print of the Consumer Sentiment Index, which was disappointing… The Consumer Sentiment Index, at 96.8 for preliminary December, remains elevated though continues to edge back from October’s expansion peak of 100.7… Hmmm…  Is this data telling us that Christmas retail sales isn’t going as forecast?  Maybe… 

Today’s Cupboard is basically empty, so nothing here to see, move along…  Bitcoin futures began trading today..  The craziness will now carry over to the futures market… 

And there wasn’t much movement in Gold on Friday, although there was quite a bit of trading activity. Gold gained $1.40 on the day, and is up 50-cents in early trading today… it was an ugly week for Gold last week, let’s hope that the ugliness is behind us for this week.. 

To recap…  the dollar rally that had been in place for two days ended on Friday, and we now await for it to pick up again… The Fed meets this week, and everyone expects a rate hike from the Fed even in the face of a possible Gov’t shutdown looming…  4 other Central Banks meet this week, but Chuck doesn’t expect anything from any of them, and he’s called everyone to watch out for a volatile week with the pound this week.    

For What It’s Worth… The news on the One Belt, One Road project for China has been sparse, so an update on what’s going on is what I was looking for, and found this: https://www.foreignpolicyjournal.com/2017/10/19/one-belt-one-road-china-globalization-and-the-international-oligarchy/  

Or, here’s your snippet:”Ironically, there are anti-globalists who see China, in its rivalry with the USA for geopolitical dominance, as a bulwark against globalization, to the extent of welcoming a “new Chinese century” as distinct from the “new American century” of the oddly named “neoconservatives”.[2] Some might also see China’s geopolitical expansion as a drawback for Zionism insofar as China aligns itself with Middle Eastern states antagonistic towards Israel, Syria being the primary target of Zionist anathema. Yet again, how seriously should one take China’s shadow-boxing with Israel, while conveniently insinuating itself into the Middle East, when Israel remains a primary supplier of weapons to China, including the latest U.S. technology, and have from the founding of both Israel and the People’s Republic maintained cordial relations regardless of China’s posturing in the Middle East?[3]

Globalization remains what it is whether its primary center is The City of London, New York, or Beijing. The investment bankers Goldman Sachs, Rothschild, Merrill Lynch, Chase, Citigroup, etc., do not owe prime loyalty to any super-power, nation or coalition of nations. Their forefathers were bankers to empires for centuries, then just as conscientiously helped to scuttle the very notion of “empire” when it became economically redundant.[4] If a China-led world economy offers better prospects for international investments than one led by the USA, rivalry over geopolitical interests in the South China Sea, or anywhere else, are not going to play anything other than a nuisance factor for global capital.”

Chuck again… A pretty long one, sorry, but wanted to capture the meat of the article…  

Currencies today 12/ 11/17… American Style: A$ .7528, kiwi .6915, C$ .7780, euro 1.1785, sterling 1.3365, Swiss $1.0088, … European Style: rand 13.6078, krone 8.3675, SEK 8.4887, forint 266.60, zloty 3.5673, koruna 21. 7220, RUB 59.09, yen 113.36, sing 1.3516, HKD 7.8065, INR 64.37, China 6.6187, peso 18.96, BRL 3.2899, Dollar Index 93.88, Oil $57.44, 10-year 2.37%, Silver $15.80, Platinum $885.52, Palladium $1,006.63, and Gold… $1,248.90  

That’s it for today… That was quite a thrilling Army/ Navy game on Saturday… the tradition of that whole thing is very impressive to me, and I make it a must see event each year… Our Blues have gotten out of their funk they were in, and are back to winning games again. Let’s Go Blues! Just 13 shopping days left folks.. this month is flying by, don’t you think? I hope the surgeon tells me I can drive again today, although I did cheat and drive Kathy down the road to get her car on Friday… It’s December, and it’s cold outside! BRRR…  Darling daughter Dawn will be by to pick me up and take me to the doctor today. Jerry and Everett stopped by to say hi yesterday, and Alex and friend stopped by last night…  Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels take us to the finish line today with their song: Jenny Take A Ride…  And with that, it’s time to go, albeit very late!  I hope you have a Marvelous Monday, and Be Good To Yourself!  

Chuck Butler

  Source link

from CapitalistHQ.com https://capitalisthq.com/its-a-fomc-week-daily-pfennig/