#rectangular step stool

[upinteriors]

Dania Stool by Designit for Skagerak.

[neoplatinum]

to love and to cherish - epilogue | minatozaki sana

summary: the aftermath of that day has left more than physical scars on your family

pairing: heiress!sana x reader

themes: blood, murder, gore, knives, kidnapping, assassins, katanas, arranged marriage au, fluff, angst, tension, lots of elitism, conglomerate power-hungry side characters, implied sex, misamo!

wc: 4.0k

(series masterlist)

you stare at your shoulder, the scar from the stabbing in a lighter color. you lightly graze over the scar, watching the way it contorts under the pressure of your finger. a faint pain coming back just from the mention. you barely survived that attack from the abes. the injuries from your fight leaving imprints not only physically, but mentally.

some days you wake up crying, tears already staining the pillowcase. it’s either sana or the kids dying in front of you, the evil smile of the brothers causing you to toss and turn. sana’s always there next to you.

always next to you.

you tend to go quiet those mornings, letting yourself be vulnerable in her arms. constantly living with the images of the brothers killing your family.

today seems to be one of those days.

you’ve been having the same dream for the past couple of days. in this dream, sana is the one who rushed in, chasing down the brothers herself. intending to make them pay for their crimes. to tear them to pieces, instead they kill haruto and hanako with their laughs filling up the empty room. 

sana letting herself fall to the ground, sobs let loose as she lets them kill her, no longer willing to live. and you stand in the corner, pounding at an invisible boundary, screaming to save them all. 

in every dream, you are powerless, unable to protect the family that you’ve grown to love.

you watch yourself in the mirror, the injuries of the fight still evident across your body. some cuts deeper than others; a testament that you survived according to sana.

you let out a deep breath, as you wash your hands, trying to rid the thoughts from your head. a distorted version of the reality that you now live. the abe’s are dead and your kids are safe. even momo and mina are recovering quickly, momo’s back to her old muscly self.

turning off the faucet, and wiping your hands on a small towel as you walk back into the bedroom. sana’s still sleeping, her head lolled to the side, the comforter wrapped around her snuggly. 

smiling, you lightly adjust her head back, so she wont wake up with a neck cramp. her head continues to chase after your hand even as you step back.

you lean down to kiss her forehead before exiting the room. and outside your room is both haruto and hanako. his big eyes staring at you, rushing to hug your legs. you bend down, pressing a kiss to both of their temples before wrapping them in a deep hug.

haruto’s been more clingy with you, he doesn’t tell you what he’s seen that day. but you have an inkling it’s more than you intended him to see. maybe the bloodshed has made him more worried for you. he always clung to sana before, but these days, you find him wanting to sit on your lap at dinner, or begging you to read him to sleep. 

all of which you will happily oblige to, doing anything to keep his childhood a happy one. hanako doesn’t seem bothered, a warm smile always on her face, she’s grown to cling to sana.

you stand back up, picking hanako up in your good arm. letting haruto hold onto your fingers as you descend down the stairs, the family portrait fixed against the wall again. rounding the hallway and down to the kitchen.

sitting hanako into a high-seat while haruto clambers up a step-stool. hands against the ledge, watching you intently. you start making a simple japanese breakfast for everyone. spooning warm hot rice into bowls, and plating tamagoyaki on long rectangular plates. the distant chirping still heard through long panes of windows.

it’s a nice sunday, with your family until sana’s mother’s birthday. sending staff to the minatozaki estate to help set up.

haruto watches as you continue to stir the miso soup, pouring it into bowls, giving it to him to place on the dining table. a chore that he’s found himself enjoying. the heavy steps of his little feet against the hard wooden planks. his little hummings as he continues to walk back and forth. hanako’s just happy to be there with her little toy in hand as she tries to bite it. the rest of the breakfast gets served when sana walks into the dining room. 

you walk up to her, feeding her a piece of steamed egg, to which she happily melts into your arms after. “good?”

“the best.” you pull her towards her chair, scooting the chair in, and leaving the dining room to wash the dishes. haruto’s already going on about how excited he is to see grandma, while you can hear hanako’s toys shaking. grateful beyond belief that your family is safe and happy.

--

the drive to the main estate is quiet, other than hanako’s toys shaking in her hands. the sounds of light music playing through the radio speakers, haruto’s happily sat in your lap, hands on the car door as he watches the scenery outside. it’s nice to see him so happy, wonder-filled eyes observing the world around him. brushing through his hair, and teaching him the different things that he sees out the window.

the calming hum of the car, coupled with light coughs from the chauffeur makes you lose track of time. unaware that you have rolled into the main estate. gazing upon the beautiful trees branching down towards the people, like a giant canopy over the mingling guests.

that familiar crest on the wall, now in a golden pin on your breast pocket. a dignified gift from sana’s mother. a valued heirloom of the minatozaki clan, one you had to officially sign that was yours to own when she handed it to you. hanako continues to shake her rattle, clanging the wooden pieces against each other. you grab haruto in your arms as you step out the car. rounding around the back and opening the door for sana. a hand outstretched as you take it, letting her stand up. placing haruto on the ground for him to run behind sana’s legs. peering at the crowd of people out front. 

you place hanako on your hip, taking sana’s hand in yours. walking towards large doors, the sounds of gasps filling your ears, the feeling of being stared down from afar. continuing to walk in as the crowd parts at the sight. you pay it no mind as you walk down the familiar stone slabs. hearing the trickle of water and the sounds of the wind chimes nearby. 

immediately the security team is bowing to a perfect right angle. head straight down as you pass. little haruto hiding behind sana’s legs as he watches the people strangely. once you enter through the main doors, immediately you’re hit with the sight of dignitaries everyone. a far too familiar scene, you’ve started to dread these events. they always put you in a sense of unease. crowded spaces with limited exits has made you more hyper aware, constantly darting your eyes for exits and counts of people.

heads are turning at the sight of your family, the familiar lewd glances from the men and curiosity or disdain at the sight of you. rolling your eyes at the familiar looks. seems that even months away from prying eyes has made the people more nosy. you pull sana a little closer to you, her eyebrow slighted up at the motion. you just offer her cheek a kiss and continue to move forward.

its clear why sana feels like a zoo animal at these events, you’re feeling the exact same. 

you can’t blame them though, this is the first sighting of your family out in public in months since the showdown with the abe’s. it’s made friends and foes more curious of you. 

you even took a temporary leave from work, spending more time recovering and finding peace with the events that unfolded. the death of the abes led to an uproar in the japanese underground network, more people vying for the dissolved power that was once there. 

not many people know that kaito was killed by kenji, instead it was leaked that you killed them both. causing unease in the people, a sign of power being shifted in your direction. more and more of the minatozaki council is recognizing your power in the family. a sign that you could become the next capable leader. 

you can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing anymore.

you spot momo and mina afar, their eyes already scanning the scenery. a clear sign that they didn’t want to be here, resorting to their military training to distract themselves. you smile as haruto runs up to mina. shaking on her pant leg as she picks him up.

“hi momo, how have you been?” you ask, letting her coo at hanako, your daughter continues to shake the rattle in momo’s face. nearly hitting her with it. momo dodges it easily, and just pokes her cheeks lightly.

“always doing better than you.” she says, smiling wildly as she tickles hanako, her squirming in your arms. you pass her to momo, watching the way she tosses her in the air. your heart nearly dropping to your stomach, but then she catches her and hanako cheers. 

mina gives an approving nod before going back to people watching, sharp eyes looking for anything out of place.

sana pulls you into her, a content smile as she watches her kids play with her cousins. a reminder that this life wasn’t always going to be this way. had she been married to kaito, she doubts momo and mina would be willing to interact with her kids. but knowing that you are her partner, it’s obvious how willing they are to be intertwined in your life. 

the sound of a gong taking you out of your little bubble, the sight of sana’s mother taking center stage. a mic in hand as she welcomes the guests to her birthday ball. a bright smile on her face, as she continues to share the sentiments of how happy she is for the life that she now has. short anecdotes about how she started and how far she has come, even taking the time to pan to you and sana. giving a quick bow to the clapping guests as their eyes fall on your family.

she gives a graceful deep bow before exiting the stage. you grab hanako from momo’s arm and make your way over, letting her coo at her granddaughter. the other women in her circle fawning over the young girl, hanako absorbing all the attention. 

you’re starting to think that you’re raising a mini sana. one that showers in attention and wants to be treated like a little princess. sana’s mother smiles and picks her up. 

you step away from the group of woman, walking back to the trio. haruto begging to be held when he sees you, his eyes happy as he wraps his arms around your neck. a sign that he’s feeling safe.

you and sana make your rounds with other guests, kindly greeting them all. worried over the injuries that you’ve sustained. a trained smile as they express their empathy with greedy eyes. you keep your hand on sana’s back as you continue to move around the floor. taking time to appreciate the dragon tattoo that peeks out from the dress, fingers softly moving across her back through long conversations. 

her tattoo is a gorgeous sight you will never get tired of seeing. you continue to stare at it until she turns towards you, hair covering the tattoo as she caught you again. a warm blush spread across her face, a knowing grin sent your way. sana only smiles before coyly walking away, off to mingle with her mother’s friends. all of them fawning over her and her daughter. haruto peeks his head over, asking you to bring him towards his grandmother.

you drop him to the ground as he stands in between his grandmother’s legs. eyes peering at the older women in the circle, awws and compliments filling his ears. you take the time to glance around, more and more eyes on you than ever before. 

before abe blood was spilled, no one bothered to look at you. seeing you as another lap dog for the minatozakis, conditioned to become a pawn for their bidding. but since the events, it seems people are paying attention. the rumors of the death of both brothers at your hands spreading like a forest fire. causing hushed whispers and fear in those that know nothing of your background. 

you’re brought out of your thoughts when sana places a hand on your lower back, gently bringing you back to the present. giving her a kiss as you offer your hand for a dance. pulling her onto the dancefloor, weaving past on-lookers and those already dancing across the waxed murals floor. finding an empty space towards the middle. bringing your hand around her waist and intertwining your other hand with hers, giving her a nod as you both start dancing. you twirl her with your hand, watching the way her hand flows along with her. you don’t know it but couples around you have left the dance floor, instead watching her elegance with every step. instead you’re focused on her satisfied smile as you continue to keep in time with her steps. letting her dance around you, pulling her back in for a quick dip of her body. applause from all directions hitting your ears. you smile widely as you pull her back up. taking a deep bow with her, clapping still filling the dance floor.

she looks radiant like this, face shining under the lights, a genuine smile as she takes in the applause, even doing a quick spin for the theatrics. you laugh before offering your hand once more, walking away from the dancefloor. the couples that once were dancing finding their places once more.

“you never asked me to dance when we were kids. i didn’t know you could dance like that.” she says handing you a drink from one of the circulating waiters. 

“didn’t want to ask you then.” you explain, continuing to down the smooth amber liquid, the strength of the liquid hitting your senses. “thought you were stuck up.” immediately she hits your arm, the one holding the cup, you watch the liquid slosh up the sides, nearly spilling over. 

moving it away from your body as she stares at you, jaw hanging at the words. “you did not just say that.” she says, folding her arms over the other, staring you down.

“i never tell lies sweetheart.” you grin downing the rest of your drink before she could slap the cup out of your hand. laughing lightly as you just offer her a forehead kiss instead. 

“i was not stuck up.”

you just laugh, placing the cup onto a tray, giving a small thank you to the waiter before focusing on your wife once more.

“sana, you’re the heiress to the biggest japanese conglomerate family, and you want to convince me you’re not stuck up?” you challenge her, amusement dripping through the words.

“even if i was, you can’t say that i am. i’m your wife so that means that i’m always right.” she says with finality. you don’t have it in you to argue with her, reassuring her that it was all a big joke. her arms still folded as you try and hug her. you continue to pester her until you feel a tap on your shoulder. immediately turning around and keeping sana behind you, a hand keeping her away from whoever tapped you.

in front of you is a man and a woman. both their face stoic and strange tattoos along the side of their face. relaxed posture and open hands, dark purple kimonos, a fan in the woman’s hand. their crest upon the fan. you step backwards.

“hello.” you offer. the woman continues to stare at you, eyeing your outfit and particularly focused on the minatozaki pin you have on. stopping her fanning before starting up again. sana stands next to you, staring at the pair in front of you instead.

“it’s nice to finally put a face to all the rumors.” the man’s deep voice hitting your ear it’s raspy like a smoker’s and rumbly. he looks away from you towards sana. “sana minatozaki, it’s been a while.” he offers his hand, sana’s outstretched as he presses a soft kiss to her hand.

“yukio ito. it’s been a while.” she pulls her hand away from his hand, his eyes glancing up, a small grin as he continues to stay bending down. the woman stops her fanning, closing it quickly.

“i’ve missed you sana-chan.” the woman says, her eyes lighting up in that feigned smile, offering a hug to sana, watching the way she lightly touches sana. you feel your hair standing up. 

“yuri, it’s been a while.” sana offers, more bite to her words than you expected. yukio fixes himself back up while yuri starts fanning herself again. 

this feels like meeting the abe brothers all over again.

“taking down the abe brothers yourself and you married sana? what can’t you do?” he laughs out, grabbing a cigar from his pocket, lighting it in front of you. the scarring of his hand apparent, running zig zag lines all over. you watch the line of smoke floating up.

“i’m flattered you think that.” you say returning back to his face. 

sana steps closer to you, slipping her fingers in between yours, standing toe to toe against the ito siblings. he takes another cigar out of his pocket, offering it to you. 

“i apologize, but i don’t smoke.” you return it back to him, watching the way he stuffs it back into his pocket. 

“how proper, can kill two men with your hands but doesn’t smoke.” he laughs with his sister. you just nod and let them laugh away. “i like that, come have a drink with us sometime.” he says before turning away with his sister. 

watching them disappear into the crowd. letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as sana squeezes your hand.

“never thought i’d see her again.” sana mumbles to herself.

“why?”

“she disappeared to thailand years ago, way before we got married. said she was going to elope with this model that she found there. never heard from her since.” sana explains, pulling you towards her mother and her kids.

“i’m assuming you were close?” you say, continuing to walk next to her.

“my best friend actually, well before she disappeared.” she says, and you both arrive in front of her mother. haruto and hanako are dancing in the circle. wild movements and swinging arms everywhere as they enjoy the music.

“do you miss her?” you whisper to sana. continuing to watch your kids playfully dance with cheers from the older women. 

“not at all, one of my exes cheated on me with her for months. i only found out because mina caught them together.” she explains. you nod and go back to watching your kids. “that and she also stole money from me.”

“sorry to hear that, dear.” you say, patting your shoulder for her.

“it’s okay, it’s in the past.” you nod, letting her lay her head on your shoulder. watching the children fondly. 

sana’s mother admires the safety that you bring to her daughter.  a comfort in her heart finally easing in, knowing that she made the right decision approaching you all those years ago.

 then she turns on her heels rounding towards the stage. and immediately the music goes quiet, turning heads towards the platform. 

“thank you all for joining me tonight,” quick claps of applause before she moves along the stage. circulating across the platform, the lights shifting as she moves around. “i’d like to propose a toast!”

she grabs a drink from the tray behind her.

“to the future of the minatozakis!” she turns her head towards you, pointing the glass tipped your way. a light being shown on you and sana. you pull yourself closer to sana, pointing your glass towards the older woman.

everyone grabs their glass, and you cheers your in the air towards her. a loud harmonious cheer of ‘to the minatozakis!’ can be being heard as everyone takes a drink. loud claps following as she exits off the stage once more. 

sana kisses your cheek, intertwining your fingers once more. handing you her glass. you place the cups down on the table, taking sana’s too.

“i wanted to ask you something.” sana says, taking your hands in hers as she pulls you away from the main hall, taking one more glance at haruto and hanako still by their grandmother.

“what is it, honey?” she continues to lead you away from the main hall, there’s a few people lingering outside the doors but other than that’s its quiet. you continue down the hall with sana’s heels hitting the floor as she guides you to a meeting room. closing the door behind her and returning back to your side.

“do you want to have another kid?” your eyes immediately widen, thinking back to how scared your kids were in that room. that dreaded room, you hope to never see those crying eyes again.

“i do, but i’m scared sana.” you explain. there’s nothing more that you want but knowing the horrors that could have been inflicted on your family, you’re scared to bring another life into this family.

“scared of what?” she whispers gently, tucking your hair behind your ear. watching the way your eyes are so unfocused and lost in your thoughts.

all you can see is your hands covered in blood from then, your own children’s wails filling the air as you stare at a dead kaito abe. blooding spilling from his own shirt onto the ground. the dreams of everyone around you dying, without you being able to save them. stuck behind a barrier from those you care more than anything about.

“i’m scared i won’t be able to save them.” you exhale, dropping into a chair. “won’t be able to save the kids, won’t be able to save you.”

she shakes her head, dropping to her knees, watching the ways your shoulders sag as you lean back. concern filled eyes searching for yours, “but you did, you saved us. you saved the kids, you saved my own life.” she says dropping into your lap.

“you saved me, more than you could ever know.” she says kissing you softly, bringing you out from your vortex of thoughts. 

“but what if i can’t save them?” you counter, worried about the new threats that now exist just because the abes are dead. there’s newer powers to worry about. 

“you will, because i know you. you would save them even if you were on your last breath” she says confidently. you don’t challenge her on it, even if you were on your last leg you would still fight with everything in you to protect this family, to protect this marriage and your kids.

“i would do anything to save them, i just have dreams that i can’t save them.” you explain, letting her understand the night terrors that you’ve been experiencing since that day. she nods, she never step foot into the room, but she knows enough to be glad she never was there. 

“you can save them, i know it.” she says. and you nod, pulling her into a kiss as well. everything that’s been taken from you in your life, you have grown from it. learning to adapt to the circumstances that have been dealt. you can grow from this too, not letting the potential fear that festers in your brain stopping you from achieving the next step in life. 

“so another kid?” you say in a teasing voice.

“yes?”

“let’s have another kid then.” tickling her lightly as she erupts into giggles.

there’s no one else you’d rather live this life with. having sana by your side every day is a dream you didn’t know you had until now. to love and to cherish sana minatozaki with everything in you.

--

a/n: and it's finisheddd!!!! thank you to everyone who read this series frfr. and a special thank you to @cry4mina for always listening to me talk about my troubles with writing and giving me ideas. i hope this epilogue was a nice fluffy finish to such a dramatic story LOL. and for @d3viant0n3 this one's for you. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[pycobutterpie]

Stranger in my kitchen

Summary: Dean goes full to protective dad mode, as he sees a stranger in his kitchen touching his daughter.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: firing a gun in front of a baby

Word Count: 1392

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please don't judge me for using a translator for this original text. I wrote it together with my friend Minnie who has added the part of Lu and Y/N. We are so exited to add something to this beautiful community of writing for dean. Also this is my first fanfic ever published outside my inner circle of writing friends. (In our story it also became true, that Dean is Bens real father. And Bobby never died. ;) )

[Y/N's POV] It was actually a normal day at the Winchesters' house. Dean had been on a hunt with Bobby and should be home soon. Ben was still sleeping his bed upstairs. The two dogs were running around in the garden and also needed a little time to themselves… Baby Cassidy was already awake with her mother Y/N. Cassy was in damn good hands and was currently sitting in a little baby bouncer on the kitchen counter and Y/N was clearing out the dishwasher. But they weren't alone. On one of the bar stools sat a man, not much older than Y/N and Dean, in a smart dark blue suit and white shirt that wasn't completely buttoned up. In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee and on his hand was a ring with a black rectangular stone in it. With the other hand, he nudged Cassy's bouncer and smirked at her. Y/N had just tied her hair up in a bun and was wearing just a top and hot pants as she crouched behind the counter at the dishwasher. Cassy started laughing and just babbled to herself.

[Dean's POV] Hunting. An activity in which Dean felt completely free and could rely entirely on his instincts. It was what he had learned, what he was born for. Making the world a better place, saving lives. The family business.

For once, it wasn't about changing diapers or talking to stuffy principals. No, Wendigos didn't talk and Dean understands Bobby without words. So the men had chased the thing in the nearby St. Jeffreys mine for a few hours and finally sent it to purgatory. It was life like before the unexpected baby happiness. The hunt had been all about instinct, speed and accuracy. That was what Dean had been living for the last few hours.

And that was what he needed now, when he saw a strange man sitting at his kitchen table, holding out his hand for his Cassidy. The strange man was wearing a suit. He was sitting with his back to the doorway through which the hunter had just stepped. An advantage, if only for a split second.

And the pistol was already in Dean's hand, loaded with silver bullets, aimed at the stranger's back.

Dean pulled the trigger immediately.

There were no thoughts clouding his mind. No details that he noticed. Shoot first, ask questions later. That had always been the motto. At least that of John and Dean Winchester. The bullet that Dean hoped would save his daughter went off with a loud bang. Then his gaze was diverted by a person appearing from behind the counter. It was Y/N, who Dean's subconscious had classified as missing before. That's why he hadn't hesitated for a moment to shoot the stranger. Because nobody was allowed to get too close to his little Cassy. No one.

If you had time to look at Dean, you'd see a serious guy with soot and dust on his face, trousers and jacket. A bloody scratch adorned his left cheek, his knuckles were cracked and his palms were scraped open.

[Y/N's POV] Y/N hadn't given any thought at all to the fact that her cousin Lu had announced himself. Twenty minutes before his arrival. Of course, that was typical of him, as always. If he announces himself at all. But she was a good hostess after all, offering her visitor a coffee immediatly. And although he wasn't purely human, she knew he posed no danger whatsoever. Not to Ben, not to her, let alone to Cassy. She had even asked him to help her with some of her research into Cassy's powers and how to secure certain parts of them. But nonetheless, she knew Dean would be back later today. But she just figured the situation could be resolved with a simple round of introductions. But that wasn't the case. Dean came in in the manner of his father and started shooting at everything he didn't know and couldn't categorize. Great…

But Lu was quicker. He had already heard the footsteps crunching on the smooth tiled floor. Because Dean's shoes didn't look particularly clean from the hunt in the forest and so he also heard the safety catch on the gun and then automatically raised his hand towards Dean and the bullet made it out of the barrel of the gun but fell to the floor just before it hit his suit.

Y/N screamed briefly and slapped her hand over her mouth, but then saw how battered Dean looked… "Baby! What happened?" She had also dropped a cup that she had just taken out of the dishwasher and then immediately ran over to Dean, took the gun out of his hand and stuck it securely in the back of her waistband.

Lu had stood up in the meantime and straightened the front of his Armani suit and then looked over at Cassy again and stroked her lightly over her small hand. "Well, it looks like your daddy in a damn bad mood…" He looked to Dean with a grin now, being slightly provocative of course… But that was just the way he was. Otherwise, he was a kind-hearted person, if you could call him that…

[Dean's POV] Dean lips twitched in anger as the guy stopped the bullet just like nothing. That wasn't human. Something like that shouldn't be in this house. Briefly, he froze slightly as Y/N took the gun away from him and remained totally calm. She even seemed taken aback by Dean's reaction. Only slowly did he realize that she could also have an insurance agent visiting or someone from the youth welfare office. But that was out of the question, because the man was totally unimpressed by the fact that he had almost been shot.

What was wrong with the guy and his mocking grin? Dean looked at Y/N in amazement, because she must have guessed what had happened. He almost nagged at her: "A strange, supernatural guy is trying to touch my daughter. This maybe?" Long slimy fingers trying to hurt a cute baby. But not in Dean's kitchen!

Quickly, the hunter rushed to Cassidy and picked her up from the rocker to his dirty arms. The comforting smell of fresh baby skin and diapers came into his mind and grounded him a little. The little girl didn't quite know whether to be happy or cry and looked a little frightened.

Dean turned his child away from the stranger so that he couldn't touch her again. The protective father turned threateningly to the suit guy: "Get your paws off her or you'll have mine in your face!" He would love to deform that polished face a little, given the stranger's audacity. Dean protectively placed a hand on Cassy's head. Only Y/N's light-heartedness kept the hunter halfway to the ground. Eagle-eyed, he tried to spot something about his girlfriend. Some strange behavior. Was she under a spell? "So, what's this, huh?" he asked, still growling slightly.

[Y/N's POV] Lu stood there grinning, his hands buried in his pants pockets by now and leaning against the counter in the kitchen, really very relaxed and not at all intimidated. He then picked up his coffee cup, spread his little finger and simply watched the spectacle that was unfolding between the two of them. As panicked, angry and heroic as Dean was acting, it really amused the cousin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but then realized that she should have warned Dean that Lu was coming over. She ran a hand through her hair and then said, "Dean…please… If there's someone in this house, I let them in here, otherwise Evangeline and Bones would have struck. And I told you about my cousin Lu from Vegas back then, didn't I? May I introduce…my cousin Lu from Vegas…yes, Lu is not human. He's a warlock. And yes, I invited him here to think about this magical barrier for Cassy's powers and to talk to him. But that won't work if you just shoot him. He's my biological cousin and I hope we've settled the issue now!", she said with a sigh. "Lu? This is Dean… My fiancé and father of my daughter. He's not usually that pissed off. But with Cassy, he sees red… And he has an aversion to strange men in suits…"

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 21

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

You saw the rectangular glow from the computer from a distance that was connected to the projector. Nerves began to take over and your arms and legs felt heavy and numb.

This is for Joel, you reminded yourself, imagining him laying in that hospital bed. It was enough to overcome any fears you had as you paced your way toward your destination.

You let out a quiet exhale, pulling your hood up over your beanie hat as you walked. It felt like slow motion.

"Five minute warning!" A woman's voice projected over a microphone off to the side of the projector. "Trick R Treat begins in 5 minutes. As a reminder this movie is rated R so please decide if this movie is right for you."

Right on cue, you saw Steve approach the woman behind the microphone. He looked extra cop-like with his hands on his hips and alternated between a serious and smiling face. A moment later, she was following him across the grass, away from the podium.

"You got this," you heard Jessie say just loud enough for you to hear from behind. The backup of your three roommates was more than just appreciated, it was a necessity.

You were about ten paces away.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Eight paces.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Deep breath.

Four.

Three.

Two.

Jessie positioned herself at your back as your extra set of eyes while you could see Winnie and Chrissy from your peripheral vision. The players were in place. Now, you just had to do your job.

You stepped onto a little stool and were elevated to being eye level with the computer screen. It was a basic PC laptop and you reached into your pocket to retrieve the drive with the footage.

There was one moment of doubt as you held it millimeters away from the HDMI outlet on the side of the computer.

What if this isn't it? You suddenly wondered. What if Steve set you up to make a fool out of you?

You shook your head. No. There was no time to play the 'what-if' game. Worse case scenario, you're hit with random footage and you make a fool out of yourself. Best case, the town would see up close and personal what *really* happened last Halloween night - and Joel's name was finally untethered to the awful rumors that sought to ruin his life.

The prize was worth the potential backlash, and so you plugged it in and watched as little white box popped up on the bottom, right corner asking if you would like to open the disc.

You navigated through the two or three steps it took to have the footage ready to play on the big screen.

"Eagle!" Jessie whisper-shouted. "Eagle on your left, ten o'clock!"

Eagle. It was the code word you'd come up with on the spot for anyone who was about to foil the plan. In this case it was the woman who Steve had pulled away.

"I needed a bigger window," you hissed to yourself through gritted teeth as you fiddled for the input on the remote. "Fuck."

"Eagle, Eagle, Eagle!" Jessie continued.

Your stomach knotted up as your fingers struggled to comprehend what your brain was telling them to do. You were panicking. Why were you panicking?

Get it together! You commanded to yourself. For Joel!

"Shit." The woman was too close and you needed another thirty seconds to set the remote to the correct input and to get the crowd's attention prior to playing the video.

Right when you thought it was going to be over, you heard a loud commotion off to the side. It was a cry for help and you saw someone laying on the ground. It pulled the podium lady's attention in the opposite direction.

Winnie! You began to get off the stool but Jessie caught your arm and shook her head, winking at you with a smile.

"Wha...?" You couldn't even finish the word but her nonchalant demeanor clued you in. Your roommates were causing a distraction.

Brilliant! You thought.

You fiddled with the buttons and all of a sudden the big screen fluttered and the dark image of Joel's truck, the one you had since become so comfortable with, came into view.

For the first time you wondered if you could handle watching what you were about to watch.

You cleared your throat and tapped the microphone. The two or three thuds let you know that it was on and ready to go. There was no turning back.

"Good evening everyone," you spoke. "Prior to tonight's movie I would like to show you a quick five minute video. It's footage from October 31st of last year."

You tried not to think about all of the eyes that were on you. When the woman tending to Winnie began to march in your direction, your friend reached for her, perfecting her acting debut.

"Please don't leave me," she choked out. "I'm so dizzy."

You half-smirked when the woman rushed back to her, but got immediately got back to business.

"This footage shows what *really* happened between Joel Miller and Johnny Champagne." You were going to elaborate but you knew the short video would speak for itself. That, and you didn't have the time. "Decide for yourselves who the real boogeyman is."

You pressed play and everyone focused on the screen in the immediate distance. Jessie stepped up beside you and put an arm around your shoulders as you chewed on your nails.

There was Joel, changing his tire as he explained to you. When the second car pulled up behind the truck, you wanted to cover your eyes. Watching him get beat up by the two men in his front yard was so horrific, you didn't know if you could take watching another similar attack. It was brutally heartbreaking.

But you did. You watched with everyone else as Johnny began the scuffle. Joel was choked out by the chain and that's when you had to turn away. It left your core in a state of genuine pain.

Jessie rubbed your back to comfort you, though continued to watch the events unfold.

The camera managed to capture all of it. Every single detail that Joel had described was right there on the screen for the entire town to see. Joel wasn't even fighting back, he was just trying to free himself so he could breathe again. That's when he backpedaled, sending him and Johnny down a little hill where the assailant fell, leaving his neck at awkward, impossible angle.

The crowd gasped in unison. And then everyone fell silent. It was hard to grasp what the collective reaction was. No one said a word.

You let the silence linger for a little while before returning to the microphone. "Joel Miller didn't kill anybody. He was attacked.. and he didn't even fight back. He was just trying to get the chain off his neck that Johnny Champagne tried to strangle him with. And now.." you hesitated before continuing, "Vic Champagne is out there somewhere after assaulting Ronnie McCready down at the junk yard. And then attacked Joel and I at his house. He's also responsible for the green flyers with our pictures and phone numbers on them, which I'm speculating many of you have seen. *Vic* is the predator, and he needs to be caught before he hurts someone else."

You were breathing heavy and didn't even realize it until you stopped talking for second. You knew you had tears in your eyes but you didn't care. Your voice was strong and that's what mattered.

"Now that everyone just saw with their own eyes what happened," you went on. "You can make up your own minds about Joel.. and the way you all treat him. He did *nothing* wrong. If any of you were in that same situation, you would try to get the chain off of your neck, too. And that is *not* a crime."

You backed away from the microphone, removed the disc from the computer and slipped back into the darkness with Jessie at your immediate side.

Winnie got up from the group and you heard her say, "Oh, I feel so much better now, thank you!" before her and Chrissy hurried to catch up with you.

"Holy shit, you were great," Chrissy said in a breathless voice. "You just did that. You really just did that."

When your friends began to praise you with some quiet laughter and hugs, you broke down and started to cry as you laughed with them. You hadn't cried in years and all of a sudden it was happening to you left and right, usually out of nowhere.

As you sat down onto a bench on the opposite side of the green as the movie, your friends plopped down beside you and all chimed in for a group hug with you in the middle.

"We got you," Winnie assured you.

"Always," Chrissy added. "I'm sorry I judged him. I shouldn't have called him what I called him before I knew you were together. It was stupid. It was-"

"I love you guys," you told them, tapping off your tears to relish in the fact that you had done it; that you had accomplished what you intended to. People, at least the ones that were present, knew Joel's story now.

"How is he?" Jessie asked.

"He's okay." You nodded, "Not okay but.. okay. His mom and dad are with him now."

"You said they didn't catch Vic?" Chrissy asked.

You shook your head. "Not yet."

"Fuck." She breathed the word and shook her head.

"Please be careful," you told your friends. "Really. I'm afraid for anyone to go back to the house. What happened at Joel's was terrifying. I thought they were going to kill him.. and the mask." You shook your head. "I just can't shake it." You took a deep breath.

"Maybe we shouldn't go back to the house," Winnie agreed. "I mean what if they show up?"

"Could we stay at your boyfriend's house?" Jessie wondered aloud.

"I'll ask him. I'm sure he won't mind. And there is a spare bedroom."

"I think I'm going to stay at the hospital tonight," you told them.

"Will you be okay?" Chrissy asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

The four of you exchanged hugs again before walking off together toward your cars. You knew until Vic was caught that no one was safe alone.

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT CHAPTER

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[theladyofbloodshed]

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter 4

This Nesta POV chapter comes from a tiny portion in ACOMAF that I am running wild with

And they had wanted the exact geographical location of the house. The layout and size of each room. Where the furniture was. Where the windows and doors were. What room, likely, we would greet them in. Azriel had provided it all, with my sisters’ help.

The face staring back at her in the looking glass was sallow and unwell. Shadows had taken up residence beneath her eyes and her thin face had only become worse in the last couple of weeks. It was an effort to eat anything at all. At any moment, Nesta expected the door to be broken down like the Spring High Lord had done.

After many days of tedious waiting that only knotted her stomach further, a letter finally arrived from the mortal queens. The meeting would take place at eleven in the morning in two days’ time. They demanded to know the exact geographical location, the layout and size of each room, the positioning of the furniture, the location of windows and doors, where they would likely be received. It felt more like a military interrogation – one she wasn’t prepared to respond to alone.  

With no knowledge of how to contact her sister, Nesta had waited until the staff had left for the night before placing the letter on the front step. If a guard was here, she had never seen them, but sometimes she thought she saw shoeprints in the soil near the house as if somebody had been treading lightly. Sometimes, at night when she could not sleep, she thought she could make out the faint rustle of wings in the distance.

If the queens arrived in a few days and her sister did not, Nesta was not entirely sure what they would do. As best she could, she would relay Feyre’s words, but she had never been one to rouse morale.

A soft knock sounded at the door then Elain entered.

‘You did not sleep at all.’

She had been surviving on broken shards of sleep that her body took for itself whenever it could. Nesta turned back to her reflection and smeared her thumbs beneath her eyes.

‘Do I look so terrible?’

Elain joined her on the rectangular stool and touched her cheek. ‘Nobody could ever accuse you of that, Nesta.’

I’m scared. I don’t know what to do to keep us safe. I wish none of this was happening. I hate father for leaving us.  

‘If you would prefer, we could organise for you to go into the village when the queens come. A letter could be sent to Graysen and Mrs. Laurent can chaperone. He would be glad to spend time with you, I’m sure.’

Elain smiled, her beauty showing no signs of diluting with worries. ‘I want to be here.’

If Nesta wanted her to grow, she had to let her do these things even if she wanted Elain far from faeries and their quarrels.

Nesta dressed quickly in a pale blue gown. Despite the tremor in her hands, her hair was braided and pulled tight into her favoured coronet. She dabbed perfume onto her neck and wrists. It was important to look as though she could take on anything even if it felt as though a fist was clenched around her trembling heart.

The unmistakable sound of a knock sounded on the window of the parlour where she sat tinkering with the pianoforte. Her fingers stilled on the keys. She held her breath, hoping it was the wind that had tricked her although the day was beautiful with no wind to be found. Elain was deep in the garden somewhere tending to the weeds that were proving impervious to her attempts at destruction. Her finger grazed over another ivory key when the sound came again, harder this time. A definite tap-tap on the glass.

Reluctantly, Nesta raised her eyes to the window. The quiet Illyrian held the letter in his hands and inclined his head towards the front of the house.

Out of the two, Nesta wasn’t sure which one she’d prefer to deal with. The large one, Cassian, had proved to be arrogant and uncouth when he delivered the letter, but this one had an intensity that scared Nesta. Being alone with any man was not appropriate. She risked her standing to have either one of them in close proximity.  

She swept through the house, pausing when she reached the elderly cook who was rummaging through the pantry. ‘I feel a little under the weather still. I will take a rest in the lounge. Please ensure that nobody disturbs me.’

The cook’s face fell in concern. ‘Shall I prepare a tea for you, Lady Nesta? You have eaten little for days.’

‘No. None of that is necessary.’

Nesta tried to turn on her heels, but the cook continued, ‘Should I fetch Elain?’

It was difficult not to lose her temper when the poor lady meant well, but Nesta’s tether was fraying quickly. ‘I need nobody.’

With the cook’s eyes burning into her spine, Nesta could hardly continue down the corridor and open the front door to welcome in a faerie. She retreated back to the lounge, locked the door, then propped open the windows. It sent the sparrows spiralling towards the hedge. Nesta could not see the faerie in the grounds. She leaned forwards until practically her entire top-half was hanging out into the garden. Then he appeared directly in front of her, making her jump back.

‘I must enter through the window?’

‘Through the window or not at all. You came here unannounced. You cannot expect me to banish my staff yet again for your convenience.’

He surveyed the window frame then grimaced. ‘My wings may be an issue.’

Gingerly, he cocked a leg up and over the windowsill then stooped low to try and pass his wings through. The sharp talon on top of the left wing scratched the paint of the frame, but Nesta did her best not to flare her nostrils. Her anger was likely a trifling thing compared to a warrior of five centuries. He bent as low as he could to the windowsill in an attempt to bring the second wing through but it snagged on the clasp. He leaned forwards a handful of times trying to free himself to no avail. All it did was make the window shake and he could not reach around his wing to remove it.

The noise would rouse attention.

Nesta leaned towards him, ignoring the scent of night-chilled mist and cedar on his skin, and settled her hand upon his wing. The frame was bonier than she was expecting it to be – and far less flexible. She pushed down gently, fingers grazing against the membrane as she eased it through the frame. She wondered how it would feel to touch the tendons running through it. The sun filtered through the wing, casting it almost in a reddish hue. They were strange. Not entirely in a bad way, but strange nonetheless.

When Nesta turned back to Azriel – that was his name, wasn’t it? – he had a hand covering his heart. A wedge of sunlight beamed across that face carved from marble; his hazel eyes were ringed with brown and flecked with green. His lips were pursed, not with annoyance but something unreadable.

‘Please, sit.’

He exhaled slowly, hand still pressed against his heart. She wasn’t sure if he had heard her despite the closeness of their bodies. Too close. Far too close to be polite, but she had just moved to help without considering it. Remembering herself, Nesta took a step back. Still, he watched her with that intimidating intensity.

‘Azriel.’

Nesta said his name softly to prompt him into action. It was a beautiful name. One that fit with his great, magnificent wings.

‘Nesta,’ he breathed.

‘Sit,’ she repeated.

As if an enchantment had been lifted, the man blinked his eyes back into focus.  His wings shuddered as he exhaled.

‘I do not know how long we have until a nosy member of the household rattles at the handle so we-’

‘I can shield us.’

Her brows drew downwards. Shield? As in hold a shield aloft for the entirety of their discussion?

Azriel added, ‘If you permit it.’

At her hesitation, he stepped near the pianoforte tucked into the corner of the room then both he and the instrument disappeared from her view, as if they had never been there at all.

‘The magic from my siphon,’ he gestured to the large, blue gem on his chest, ‘allows me to shield.’

‘Oh. Nobody will know you are here?’

‘Only you,’ he replied with an elegant dip of his head.

Although logic argued with her that it was woefully irresponsible to trap herself inside a magic shield with a man she hardly knew – a man who was far older, far more powerful, and far more dangerous – Nesta agreed to it. To put a little distance between them, she waited until Azriel took a seat which took a long time as he seemed to be waiting for her to do the same. At least he had manners.

Nesta was not one for small talk. Minimal contact with these faeries was for the best lest they be accused of sympathising with a cause like the Children of the Blessed. It was better for everybody if their business was handled swiftly. Still, it did not stop her from asking, ‘Feyre?’

‘Well. Happy.’

They reached another strange standstill. Nesta wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to take the lead or not. The shadows that flocked around him seemed to be peering at her from over the top of his wings.

‘Do you do that with your siphon?’ She tapped two fingers over her chest to ensure he understood her then gestured to the shadow grazing against his jaw.

He swatted it away. ‘No. I am shadow singer. There are few in this world like me.’

From the classic beauty to the obsidian ink on his muscled arms, she did not doubt that.

‘Will you talk me through the lay out of the house, Nesta?’

Oh. She liked the way he said her name. It resided on his tongue as if it belonged there.

As best she could, Nesta explained the history of the manor. The previous owners had kept it in their family for many generations so there had been little work done. He made meticulous notes as they spoke, but often Nesta would feel his gaze caressing her face. Azriel was very different from the other one who had visited a few days earlier. He was reserved, using as few words as possible, preferring to let her prattle on about the furniture that Father had ordered from the Continent. Indeed, this one was different from any man she had ever met because she was used to men who dominated the conversation leaving no room for her. Despite what he was, Nesta felt at ease around him. He had a deep drawl to his quiet voice that seemed to lure Nesta in, so she had to remind herself to stop leaning towards him.

‘If you’re comfortable, would you be able to walk around the house a little so I can commit it to memory while I follow. Nobody will see me,’ he reassured her.

‘The siphon.’

A hesitant smile curled in one corner of his mouth as if he wasn’t used to it. ‘The siphon,’ he repeated.

When Nesta had conjured a suitable reason to be sweeping through the house, they departed. Although there was no sign of Azriel, she could sense him there like a phantom presence that was just out of reach. If any of the staff wondered what she was doing, the lie would be that she had misplaced a book. Thankfully, none but the cook stopped her and that was only to ask if she felt better.

They returned to the lounge, a randomly selected book from the shelf stowed in her arms. Azriel materialised from thin air in the same seat had been in before. Hazel eyes tracked her movements as she returned to her own seat.

‘Have you been unwell?’

On instinct, her fingers flexed, ready to push against the constant ache in her chest only to find that it wasn’t there. Nesta stilled her hand. She hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t there until now.

‘No.’

The heat of his gaze seared against her skin, reading the lie too easily.

‘A little worried,’ she conceded.

How had he made her give up the lie so readily? Nesta never gave ground like this. She held firm, digging her heels in even when she knew she should give up.

‘I will do anything I can to keep you safe.’ He blinked rapidly, shaking his black hair from his face, then amended, ‘We will. For you and Elain. I must return.’

She stood with him, ready to see him out. When Azriel moved towards the window again, Nesta gestured to the door.

‘I will seek my sister amongst the roses. You may follow me into the garden to depart that way.’

Her fingertips held the head of the cold, metal key as she began to turn it in the lock.

Unannounced, Azriel asked, ‘Do you play?’

His eyes flickered towards the pianoforte.

Their bodies were too close. The curve of his wing shielded her and only a whisker stopped it from touching her shoulder.

‘Poorly,’ she admitted.

‘I do not think you do anything unless it exceeds expectations.’

Why couldn’t she move? Her hand was poised to wrench open the handle to expel him from her home; her body was waiting for the signal to move. But she could not. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Once more, she took in his image. Until the stars winked out, Nesta might have remained there, but then a cold shadow snaked over her cheek. Azriel’s eyes widened in alarm as the shadow returned to him.

It broke the spell on Nesta.

‘They’ve never done that before.’

She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself, but Nesta had pulled the door open anyway and marched over the polished floorboards. The skirts of her dress caught between her legs from the pace though she continued on until her feet met soft, spongy grass.

Nesta did not look round. She didn’t need to. She knew the moment he had departed.

[raisoramizu]

Hazbin Hotel: New Order - Chapter 2: Cracks

Intro - Chapter 1 (Radiostaticapple) ......

That night, even the TV Demon was drunk, and it was all because of his obsession.

Had Alastor become the number one cause of alcoholism in Hell?

Of course, Vox was in his Control Room; ever since the Radio Demon had returned about a year ago, Vox spent at least 90% of his free time there when he wasn't attending to business. He was even neglecting Valentino, who did nothing but complain. Right now, the moth demon was blowing up his phone with messages, the notifications chiming and scrolling one after the other on one of the many displays in the huge, blue-tinted circular room.

"Where are you, love? Why aren't you answering? Are we still on for dinner tomorrow? Did you know Angel hasn't replied to my texts all day? If you don't answer me, I'm gonna lose it..."

Sitting in his swivel chair, Vox took another sip of whiskey from his mug, let out a loud sigh, and silenced the notifications. His large red eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, and his face was bathed in the warm glow of his drunkenness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk. Maybe with Alastor? No, he'd had plenty of benders with Valentino, but right now, he couldn't recall a single one.

Slumped in his chair with his hands on the armrests and his mug precariously balanced between his claws, his gaze drifted to the desk where an old, greyish photo lay. It showed a smiling Alastor and beside him... a younger Vox, with a cathode-ray tube screen and an outdated suit. The photo had been torn in half, splitting their figures, and then sloppily taped back together.

The leather of the chair creaked as he leaned forward, hunching his shoulders and clutching his rectangular head with sharp claws. He was desperate.

He couldn't sleep; he couldn't find peace. Those fools still hadn't noticed the cameras inside the Hotel, but that didn't give him any advantage: something had happened in there. Alastor had almost died, probably had some sort of deal with Lilith, and was definitely screwing Lucifer. Vox felt like he was going to explode from frustration.

Those thoughts broke him to the point that sparks crackled along his antennas, lightning bolts shooting through his body, his anger culminating as his red eyes fixed on a screen: Lucifer was in the Hotel's Common Room, slumped over the bar in the exact same position as him. Then he watched Lucifer down an entire bottle of rum.

"..."

Pressing a button, Vox activated every single camera inside and outside the building, projecting the Bar's feed onto the main screen.

Saved by Angel Dust before he could collapse to the floor, he slumped back onto the bar. With the heels of his boots firmly planted on the stool's footrest, he propped both elbows on the bar's surface, one on each side of his fresh glass of rum. He stared at it, confused, before picking it up. Damn, it was hot in here.

"Isn't there any air conditioning in this place?" he asked, loosening his bow tie under the puzzled gaze of the two demons.

"Uh... it's on, I think," Angel Dust replied.

Lucifer scoffed, gulped down yet another glass in one go, and pointed his free hand towards the ceiling. "Not on enough." With that, he released a blast of shimmering magic that instantly froze everything in the room.

The magic startled the spider demon, causing him to leap off his stool. Every wall, bottle, glass, and table was coated in a thin, crackling layer of ice, so cold that it caused a lamp on the wall to shatter, throwing the room into a shadowy gloom.

"Hey, hey, Sexy Boss, you could've just turned the AC up a notch!" Angel stammered with a tight grin, a mix of discomfort and fear crossing his face. He cautiously took a few steps toward Lucifer, motioning for him to calm down, but the angel was already peeling off his striped vest.

"Ugh," Lucifer groaned, tossing the vest onto the empty stool beside him, his messy hair sticking to his forehead. "It's better now, right? Problem solved," he added, leaning toward the spider demon, his voice and smile dripping with drunken languor. He nearly toppled over again, but Angel caught him with a firm hand against his chest, steadying him. Angel shot a pleading glance at Husk, who had gone back to cleaning glasses behind the bar.

Husk, uninterested, dropped the corners of his lips in a disinterested frown. "What do you want from me? You're the one who said tonight would be a fun celebration. Deal with it."

"Oh, thanks a lot for the help, mister-'I-hate-everything,'" Angel snapped, narrowing his mismatched eyes. He hesitated for a moment, watching Lucifer drunkenly cling to his wrist, rubbing his cheek against the back of his hand. His cheeks flushed. "Damn it!" He cursed under his breath before an idea struck him. "I've got it! How about we dance? Something fun—it'll help shake off the booze!" he exclaimed, flashing a way-too-cheerful grin to mask his deep discomfort.

Husk snorted, amused, as he tried to steady the glasses on the now-frozen countertop behind the bar.

The sound made Angel whirl around, his platinum hair bouncing, baring his teeth in frustration. "What the hell's so funny?!"

"Just that, even if you won't admit it, you're clearly changing. 'Dancing to shake off the booze,' huh?" Husk smirked, wiping down a glass. "Old Angel Dust would've just suggested a quick screw."

Still holding Lucifer steady, who had literally wrapped himself around Angel's hand, the spider demon leaned toward Husk, his eyes blazing with anger. "What do you take me for? That'd be taking advantage of him! Look at him... he'd puke all over me!" Angel shot a fearful glance at Lucifer, who was still rubbing against his wrist. "Do angels even puke when they get too drunk?" he asked, suddenly serious.

Husk glanced at the absurd scene unfolding between the Seraphim and Angel Dust's hand.

"..." Angel groaned, running a desperate hand through his platinum hair. "Alright. Charlie won't notice if we handle this right."

At the word "we," Husk raised an eyebrow, but before he could object, Angel was already turning on Alastor's old, frost-covered radio sitting on the counter. As the ice slowly melted without leaving a trace of water, a soft, nostalgic 1930s jazz tune began to play.

Angel shuddered in disgust. "Oh, hell no, I'm putting on something modern."

But before he could turn the dial, "NO!" Lucifer stopped him.

Clinging to the arm that had kept him from face-planting, he lifted his weary, sweaty, flushed face toward the source of the melody. "Leave this one..." He parted his lips as if to sigh but merely loosened his grip on Angel's hand, turning back toward the bar.

Angel stared at Husk in bewilderment, who was wearing the exact same expression.

"We could dance to this—"

"I don't feel like dancing," Lucifer interrupted again, his voice trembling as he rested his elbows on the bar, running his hands through his already-tousled hair.

His words and the ensuing sigh drew the attention of both demons again, particularly Angel Dust, who stepped closer, reaching out with one of his right hands as if to touch Lucifer's shoulder, but hesitated.

"I just... I just want to know what's going through his head... why he's so distant. Damn it!" Lucifer's frustration peaked as he slammed a fist onto the bar. Angel jumped but quickly relaxed into a sly smile.

"Oh, so there's drama involved... that's why you've got the sad drunk vibe going on," he teased, waving a hand at Husk. "Pour me another. We've got a lot of stuff to unpack here."

Husk, with a low chuckle, started making the drink. "Love troubles? Who's crazy enough to drive the Big Boss to this state?"

"Crazy or... clever," Husk muttered darkly, pouring the drink.

The word "clever" seemed to spark something in Angel Dust. He raised a sharp brow, narrowing his black eyes at the pitiful, drunken figure of the Seraphim. "Sorry if I'm overstepping, but... we're talking about Alastor, right?" he asked, leaning in slightly.

Lucifer straightened up, sitting rigid on the stool as a deep blush spread across his face.

"OOOH cra–" Angel clamped both hands over his mouth, stifling his reaction with a few awkward coughs. Even in this fragile, drunken state, this was still Lucifer. He needed to maintain some composure—getting frozen solid or burned alive wasn't exactly appealing. But he shot Husk an I-told-you-so look, nonetheless.

"..."

"He rejects me... but not completely. He's evasive..." Lucifer continued without much of a reaction, sitting upright on the stool with his shoulders slumped and both hands resting on his thighs. His blond hair had fallen out of its styled waves, framing his tired face as he stared vacantly ahead.

Angel, taking a sip from his glass, straightened up, flaunting his furry chest from beneath his pink top.

"For what it's worth, Sire... this kitty-cat here—who knows our little fawn pretty well—said he's never seen him interested in anyone romantically or sexually. So..."

Lucifer shot him a sidelong glance as Angel took another sip.

"...maybe he's just not used to it. I mean, imagine the pressure of hooking up with the King of Hell. That's gotta be intense. Some people might die just thinking about it," Angel leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "...maybe it's his first time."

Lucifer barely had time to lift his head and raise his eyebrows in surprise before the background music abruptly cut off. Along with the others, he turned unsteadily toward the radio. In that exact moment, Alastor's figure reappeared, standing right behind him.

"I believe this delightful evening has just come to an end, Lucifer~" Alastor said, without the radio filter, catching the attention of Husk and Angel Dust. But Lucifer, clearly confused and drunk, reacted more slowly. Before he could even turn around, he felt himself being pulled backward.

"What the—?!" he exclaimed as a tentacle—emerging directly from the sinner's back—yanked him off the stool. In an instant, Lucifer found himself suspended in the air, arched backward just above Alastor's shoulder. From his upside-down angle, he caught a glimpse of Alastor's profile. The Radio Demon's ever-present closed-mouth smile remained plastered on his face, but his eyes were anything but happy or amused.

"Alastor..." Lucifer sighed, his face softening into a languid expression of drunken affection as he was carried away. Alastor, however, turned his back on the bar and began walking without a word.

Angel Dust shot up from his seat. "Hey, wait!" But before he could get close, another tentacle zipped by, grazing his chest and burying itself deep into the bar counter.

"AAaehk! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" Angel Dust growled, jumping back. "...!" He flinched again, terrified when Alastor suddenly froze. The room's lights flickered wildly as the Radio Demon turned toward him, his eyes enormous, inky black, and twitching like dials on a broken radio. The eerie, ticking knobs and voodoo stitches around the corners of his now grotesque grin sent shivers down Angel Dust's spine.

Husk, sensing the danger, leapt over the bar and quickly clamped a hand over Angel Dust's mouth. "Shh, quiet!"

"..."

"..."

Without a word, Alastor resumed walking toward the staircase, dragging a barely protesting Lucifer, still suspended and weakly squirming in the air. ...

By the time they reached the second flight of stairs, Lucifer's complaints had become increasingly annoying: "My head's spinning... I feel like I'm gonna puke... I can't move like this... Why don't you kiss me?"

Alastor's growing irritation manifested as a sharp burst of static. Without warning, he roughly slammed Lucifer's back against a hallway wall.

The angel groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as two tentacles pinned his wrists to the wallpaper in a crucifixion-like pose. A third tentacle coiled possessively around his waist. When he opened his eyes again, Alastor was right in his face, looming over him with both hands braced against the wall on either side of Lucifer's head. The Radio Demon's furious gaze bore down on him.

Lucifer shivered. "...!" His eyes widened in shock, staring up at the demon who now loomed over him, casting an enormous, distorted shadow that crept up the wall and ceiling, independent of Alastor's movements, as if it had a life of its own. He stared at Alastor for what felt like an eternity. The demon was beside himself with rage. Lucifer had seen him angry before, seen him provoke and intimidate others with his magic, but this was different. Now, it was as though Alastor had lost control of the mask he usually wore—a mask of smiles and distorted voices. He was rigid, drooling as he ground his yellowing teeth, his eyes blackened, with only glowing red pupils left. Acid-green threads swirled around his mouth and shoulders, and a massive "X" pulsed on his forehead, glowing as his antlers stretched out nearly a meter long from his crimson hair. But most unsettling of all was his breathing. His shoulders shook, and his breath rattled through his teeth like the crackling of a poorly tuned radio.

"You..." Alastor began suddenly, swallowing a lump of saliva before continuing. "You're a Seraph... One of the most powerful angels in the celestial hierarchy. You're the King of Hell. With a snap of your fingers, you could solve most of the problems plaguing this place. With just a glance, you could bend every damned soul to your will. Overlords, fallen angels... There are no infernal princes or nobles who could ever hope to compete with you." His grin twisted into something desperate and angry as he continued to pant. "...And yet here you are, crying, despairing, getting drunk and spouting nonsense like a pathetic fool... while everything around you burns!" He roared the last word, clawing the wallpaper loudly with his nails. "Besides whining about why I don't tear you apart like you want, what else would you have revealed if I hadn't shown up?"

"Wait, I didn't—"

"That I've lost my power?! That I'm weak and fragile?!" Alastor bellowed, his voice no longer carrying any musicality. The shadows around them deepened, ghostly eyes swirling within a barrier marked with green voodoo symbols. His smile grew more malicious. "I can assure you, I've got plenty of power left to pulverize this damn hotel and devour more than half of Hell's population ~"

At that, Lucifer's alarm spiked. He partially shifted into his demonic form, easily breaking free from the tentacles. "Alastor, calm down, damn it!" He grabbed Alastor by the collar, but just as he placed his hands on the demon's chest, Alastor's eyes widened, and he let out an exaggerated, gurgling gasp that startled Lucifer into letting go.

Alastor recoiled, stumbling backward until he collapsed against the opposite wall, sliding down into a seated position as the corridor slowly returned to normal. Still disoriented from the alcohol, Lucifer, now unsupported, toppled forward, falling to his knees on the floor.

"..."

When Lucifer looked up again, Alastor was hunched over, clutching his chest and panting with wide, panicked eyes. Had he hurt him? He'd barely touched him—how was that possible?

"Alastor...?" Lucifer called out, uncertain and frightened. "Are you okay...?" He began crawling across the floor, extending a hand toward the demon, but stopped short, his mouth agape as he noticed the acid-green symbol whirling on the wall behind Alastor. The four arrows crossed, topped with a circle, shone so brightly that their greenish hue lit up Lucifer's face. In that split second, Alastor dissolved into his shadows, fleeing the scene.

"Wait, Alastor... please, wait!" Lucifer staggered to his feet, trying to drag himself toward the stairs leading to the east wing of the hotel, but he stumbled again, collapsing face-first onto the floor with a groan. "Damn drunkards!" He tried to stand once more, but this time his body had reached its limit. His eyes widened as a wave of nausea overtook him, forcing him to slap a hand over his mouth. "Ugh!"

With the last bit of lucidity left, he had no choice but to envelop himself in a bright, magical flame, teleporting to his room to throw up in peace.

Alastor had left.

For five days—since he had been mortally wounded by Adam—he hadn't left the Hotel. Hell was a dangerous place for him now. Even though his reputation still instilled fear in the damned at the mere sight of him, he couldn't risk some lunatic getting the idea to attack. In that case, could he defend himself? Ninety percent of the time, probably yes—they were all weak and pathetic, doomed to eternally relive whatever had landed them in Hell in the first place. But that other ten percent was too great a risk. He valued his life. He valued his power. He desired to possess and dominate everything, and he had never been further from his goals, from his very survival. And then... what the hell was happening to him?

That evening, the Hotel had become too small. If he had stayed inside, Lucifer wouldn't have left him alone, not even in his Tower. He needed air. Not that the air of Hell was particularly pleasant—the sulfur crept into everything, and the noises were grating, crude, pathetic—but that desolation, that despair, it soothed him.

It was raining. By now, he was soaked through. Under normal circumstances, he would've minded the filth, which could ruin his hair and, more importantly, his suit. But now... did it matter?

He was walking toward the city center, one of the side streets, where he could already see the golden peak of Heaven's Embassy through the constant downpour. The building stood out, a jarring sight among all that red and black, the human-like yet decayed and eerie structures, and the neon signs of brothels and seedy places he passed by.

Step by step, along the sidewalk, without his cane, he kept pressing a hand to his chest. It still hurt. The soaked tail of his jacket flared out in the infernal breeze that tugged at his hair, already plastered to his forehead and ears. He lifted his face, squinting his eyes toward the giant pentagram that dominated the sky, where Heaven's sphere could also be seen.

As his gaze moved upward, it also, inadvertently, fell upon one of Vox's cameras.

...  

Alastor's movement was projected onto one of the deserted Control Room screens. Even his image alone tended to cause interference, but when his face was fully caught by the camera, the screen glitched annoyingly.

Vox wasn't there. His empty cup was. The torn and taped-together photo was there. His swivel chair was turned toward the exit corridor. Some screens were still showing the Hotel bar, while the main screen was fixed on the empty hallway where, just a few minutes earlier, Lucifer and Alastor's argument had taken place. But the TV Demon was gone. Where was he?

...  

Alastor cast a weary glare at a small demon who, at the mere sight of him, bolted noisily away, whining in distress just as he reached a dead-end alley blocked by poorly nailed wooden beams. A deep, bitter realization gripped Alastor's throat: it was identical to the alley where he had witnessed Lucifer being tortured by those demons. The alley where his downfall had begun.

He stopped in front of the beams. This was the place. The same street, the same buildings, the same stench.

With a flick of his claws, he summoned a few tendrils that cleared some of the beams, creating a small passage just large enough for him. The narrow street had no streetlights or doors, only a few windows high up on the buildings. The alley stretched for another twenty meters before ending at the wall of a towering residential building. Trash lined the edges of the sidewalk, there were a few waterlogged makeshift beds, signs that some vagrants had probably slept there, broken crates, and bloodstains on the ground.

He moved forward about ten meters, leaning against a wall, his shoulders slumping as he struggled to breathe. It was physical exhaustion, yes, but mostly mental. With a wave of his hand, he swept away the water dripping from his hair. Streams of rain ran down his face, framing his ever-present smile—a smile now frozen in place, a mask of despair. Through the gaps in his fingers, he stared down at his own chest.

Opening his jacket, he muttered, "...What the hell is happening to me..." His voice was without its usual radio filter as he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, exposing his chest and the large circular symbol with crossed arrows glowing with his sickly green magic. The center of the crossroad mark was fixed at the exact point where the angelic spear had impaled him. And there, where Adam's wound began to scar, small X's and fragmented Voodoo symbols intertwined, barely comprehensible because they were incomplete.

"Maybe the weakening of my power is affecting the ritual..." He mused, his right index finger grazing Kalfu's mark.

~ Even that light touch sent a jolt of pain through him, forcing him to groan.

Suddenly, the alley was illuminated by a flash of lightning.

Alarmed, Alastor quickly buttoned his shirt, turning with terror toward the beams that still blocked part of the entrance to the alley.

... His pupils shrank to pinpricks.

"Alastor!"

"Vox."

[taimco]

The Benefits of Introducing Window Wells

With regards to home wellbeing and upkeep, window wells are a fundamental yet frequently ignored part. These semi-roundabout or rectangular designs, introduced around cellar windows, fill a double need: they give insurance and improve normal light. Here's the reason window wells are an important expansion to any home.

Expanded Regular Light

Window wells permit more daylight to enter cellar windows, making frequently dull, underground spaces more splendid and really inviting. With expanded light, property holders can make utilitarian and stylishly satisfying storm cellars.

Improved Storm cellar Ventilation

Appropriate ventilation is significant for keeping up with air quality in cellars, particularly since these areas are inclined to clamminess and unfortunate wind stream. Window wells work with ventilation, permitting natural air to course while forestalling dampness development.

Water Waste

One of the main advantages of window wells is their capacity to redirect water from storm cellar windows. Numerous window wells come furnished with seepage frameworks that immediate water and groundwater away from the establishment, forestalling cellar flooding and water harm.

Assurance from Garbage

Window wells go about as a boundary against garbage, like leaves, soil, and snow, that can collect around storm cellar windows. This forestalls blockages in waste frameworks and lessens the gamble of window harm.

Improved Wellbeing

In the event of a crisis, window wells give a protected departure course from the cellar. Many are planned with stepping stools or moves toward work with simple exit, particularly in homes with storm cellar rooms or residing spaces that require departure windows by regulation.

Tasteful Allure

Current window wells come in different styles and materials, permitting mortgage holders to upgrade the presence of their cellar outsides. Ornamental window wells can further develop the general control allure of a property, particularly when matched with finishing.

Forestalling Soil Disintegration

By redirecting water from the establishment, window wells assist with forestalling soil disintegration around the home's edge. This keeps up with the underlying respectability of the establishment, lessening the requirement for exorbitant fixes.

Picking the Right Window Well

While choosing a window well, it's critical to consider factors like size, material, and seepage choices. Steel and plastic window wells are famous for their strength and low support. Furthermore, introducing a window well cover can give added security from trash and water while expanding wellbeing.

End

Window wells offer numerous advantages, from further developing cellar wellbeing and solace to safeguarding your home from water harm. If you're thinking about storm cellar remodels or essentially need to defend your property, putting resources into top notch window wells is a brilliant choice.

[prvtocol]

@badtrigger : With one applesauce cup in one hand, Miguel raises to his tip toes and stretches his little arm up as far as it will go. The coveted box of nilla wafers is just out of reach, pushed farther back on the high shelf by the tiny pads of his index and middle fingers. "Hurry up!," Monte impatiently whines, keeping a lookout at the pantry doors, tuning his ears to the hallway for the sound of mama or papa's footsteps on the staircase. In focus mode, Miguel plants one foot on the lowest shelf to boost himself just a little farther. Almost.. almost..! His shoe slips and knocks into one of the glass jars; the container flies off and smashes into pieces on the floor. Both boys gasp and pause. They look at each other in disbelief. In silence they stand, expecting the sound of footsteps to follow their loud mistake. They do. "I told you it was a bad idea. I don't wanna get in trouble!," Miguel whines, pushing off the step stool (avoiding the shattered glass as he goes) and follows his twin brother out of the pantry doors. Monte slides them shut to hide the mess and urges his brother to follow him with the spoils of their pantry raid -- two applesauce cups will have to do. | random wonderful asks ( always accepting ) ᠂ ⚘ ˚

The white sheet fails to get fitted to the king-sized mattress when the crash sounds, halting both parents mid-tuck of the crisp clean fabric. Eyes make contact from opposite sides of the bed before each turn to the doorway, intent to find the source of the sound and check on the twins downstairs. Before they even descend the staircase, Santiago is on high alert, checking the villa’s security feed just in case it's more than the children at play. 

     “Boys? Is everything alright?” Her voice carries to where they were left in the living room to play while both parents went upstairs to make the beds after a completed round of laundry. An array of plastic toys are scattered throughout the central rectangular woven rug, the majority of which are small cars sized to race on a rebuilt track set up along the perimeter. The twins, however, are nowhere in sight. It is in the nearby kitchen they find the two, each with a spoon in one hand and the other hidden behind their back. No cuts or bruises appear on either (Brianne's sweeping gaze assures) or is there (after a brief survey of the space around them) a mess anywhere to be found — just two smiling children standing awkwardly against the cabinet and passing glances at the other. 

     “Hi mama! Hi papa!” The greeting comes in near unison, but the looks plastered on the boy’s near identical faces couldn’t be more different. Monte grins wide while his brother's mouth looks stretched into a half frown; his thoughts stew in being the one responsible for knocking down the glass container. 

     “What was that sound, darlings?” Brianne gets to questioning while Santiago walks the perimeter of the kitchen island, spying the applesauce cups behind their backs as he turns the corner.

     “What sound mama?” Monte plays daft, believing they can still do this; they will never know. “I didn’t hear anything, did you, Miguel?” 

     Miguel stares blankly up at his mother before getting nudged in the arm by his brother’s elbow, coaxing a quick shake of his head. 

     “That loud crash.” Brows lift, attempting to jog their memories. Certainly, if Santiago and her heard the sound upstairs, they heard it down here. Sight drops to stare curiously at the spoons in their hands and she wonders. “Is there something behind your backs?”

     Miguel’s fingers fumble and the applesauce cup drops to the floor, rolling on its side to come to rest in front of his foot. “Oops.”

     “We were hungry so ah, we got a snack!” Monte pipes in, words flowing out without another breath. “A healthy snack. See, applesauce.” He pulls his cup forward to proudly show her; Miguel picks his back up off the floor.

     Santiago is connecting the dots to pause in front of the walk-in pantry (where the applesauce cups are); his hands still on the knobs ready to slide the doors open. Brianne shares a knowing look with her husband, which also turns the boys’ attention. Seeing their father about to reveal their little accident sinks in, shrinking Miguel’s shoulders with it.

     “I see. Well, is there something you want to tell us? About what happened?” Gently she prods, wanting to hear it from their mouths first before laying accusation. Sight turns on Miguel, knowing the child can barely spin a lie, unlike his sly brother.

     Monte worriedly shakes his head but Miguel’s face contorts just shy of crying before he blurts out, “We’re so sorry mama. It was an accident. We were trying to get the nilla wafers off the shelf but, I didn’t mean to, it, it fell off, and crashed all over” He buries his face in his hands while Monte’s chin drops; so much for keeping the failed biscuit heist a secret.

     Brianne presumes “it” is one or more of the glass containers lining the upper shelves holding an array of baking ingredients. Flour, sugar, corn starch, whatever one or more was knocked over undoubtedly left a huge mess and a dangerous shattering of glass which she's grateful neither child cut themselves on. Meanwhile, the box of nilla wafers is presumably still on the shelf right above them, purposefully out of reach to be a treat rather than an easily accessible snack.

     “That was the crash then. Well, luckily not yourself. We better take a look at the damage. Come on.” With a sigh, she places her hands on their shoulders, leading them over to the pantry and their father who waits, his face stern as ever. Neither parent will be upset about the mess they will soon discover, but more so in the act of dangerously climbing the pantry shelves and the aftermath, trying to evade telling them the truth about what happened. Yet another lesson to learn and a reminder that there's never a dull moment in the Moreno-Guyot household. 

[allinonecc]

Using Area Rugs to Define Spaces in an Open-Concept Home

In recent years, open-concept floor plans have become increasingly popular in home design, offering a spacious and fluid layout that promotes connectivity and flexibility. While open layouts create a sense of airiness and freedom, they also present unique challenges in defining separate areas and creating visual boundaries within the space. This is where area rugs play a pivotal role, serving as versatile tools for delineating zones, adding warmth, and enhancing the overall aesthetics of an open-concept home. In this article, we'll explore how area rugs can be strategically used to define spaces in an open-concept home, creating a cohesive and harmonious living environment.

Identify Functional Zones: 

The first step in using area rugs to define spaces in an open-concept home is to identify the functional zones within the space. Common zones may include the living area, dining area, kitchen, and entryway. By delineating these zones, you can create distinct areas for different activities and purposes.

Anchor Furniture Groupings: 

Area rugs are particularly effective in anchoring furniture groupings within an open-concept space. In the living area, for example, a large area rug can be placed beneath the seating arrangement to define the conversation area and create a sense of intimacy. Similarly, rugs can be used to anchor the dining table and chairs in the dining area or the kitchen island and bar stools in the kitchen.

Create Visual Boundaries: 

In the absence of walls or partitions, area rugs can help create visual boundaries between different zones within an open-concept home. Opt for rugs with contrasting colors, patterns, or textures to delineate separate areas and guide the eye from one zone to another. This not only adds visual interest but also helps define the spatial layout of the room.

Layer Rugs for Depth: 

Layering rugs is another effective technique for defining spaces in an open-concept home while adding depth and dimension to the room. Experiment with layering a larger rug beneath furniture groupings and a smaller rug on top to create a focal point or define a specific area within the space. This layering technique adds visual interest and creates a sense of coziness and intimacy.

Consider Rug Shapes and Sizes: 

The shape and size of area rugs can also influence how spaces are defined within an open-concept home. In rectangular or square rooms, opt for rugs that mirror the shape of the space to create a harmonious and balanced look. For irregularly shaped rooms or seating areas, consider using round or oval rugs to soften sharp corners and create a sense of flow.

Coordinate Rug Styles: 

While each functional zone within an open-concept home may serve a different purpose, it's essential to maintain a sense of cohesion and continuity in the overall design. Coordinate rug styles, colors, and patterns throughout the space to create a unified look that ties the different zones together visually. This ensures a seamless transition from one area to another and enhances the overall aesthetic appeal of the home.

Use Rugs to Define Traffic Flow: 

In addition to defining functional zones, area rugs can also help guide traffic flow within an open-concept home. Place rugs strategically along pathways and walkways to delineate the main circulation routes and encourage natural movement throughout the space. This not only enhances the functionality of the home but also adds visual interest and organization to the layout.

Personalize with Texture and Material: 

Finally, don't be afraid to personalize your open-concept home with area rugs that reflect your unique style and preferences. Experiment with different textures, materials, and pile heights to add tactile appeal and visual intrigue to the space. Whether you prefer plush wool rugs, natural fiber textures, or bold geometric patterns, choose rugs that complement your decor and enhance the ambiance of your home. https://washablearearugs.co.uk/. 

In conclusion, area rugs are invaluable tools for defining spaces and creating visual interest in an open-concept home. By strategically placing rugs to anchor furniture groupings, create visual boundaries, and guide traffic flow, you can enhance the functionality and aesthetics of your living space while adding warmth and personality. Whether you're furnishing a sprawling great room, a cozy loft apartment, or a modern studio, area rugs offer endless possibilities for customizing and personalizing your open-concept home to suit your lifestyle and design preferences.

[rprservicesllc]

how to measure the roof from the ground in a property preservation business

In case you’re intending to chip away on a roof and don’t have the structure plans, taking pioneer estimations from the ground lets you precise the roof region and measure a few expenses. Estimating your roof is the initial phase in an effective re-roofing task. You can get a measure of your roof’s estimations from the ground if you prefer not to ascend a ladder and get up on the rooftop yourself. There is a specific method to measure the roof from the ground, which can be beneficial to know as regular check-up assistance provided by the property preservation company can reduce the damages that occur during extreme weather conditions. 1: Discover the length and width exterior wall: Use your measuring tape along the walls from one end to the other from both ways. Record these calculations in your journal. Alongside the roof’s angle, you’ll utilize these 2 measurements to ascertain the roof’s general square footage. After estimation of the building’s walls, gauge the length of the extensions on one or the other side (if your roof has overhangs). Evaluating the region from ground level is less exact than estimating each side exclusively, however, it can make a speedy, simple, and safe elective while re-trying a square or rectangular roof. To calculate an irregular roof, you’ll need to get on top. 2: Ascertain the pitch of the roof: To determine the pitch of your roof, you’ll initially have to set up a stepping stool adequately high to reach it. Spot a level against the roof a couple of feet in from the edge and point it with the goal that the drifting air pocket is focused, then, measure the length from the finish of the level to the exterior of the roof. 3: Pitch multiplier table to estimate out what number to use: Pitch multiplier tables make it simple to use a specific pitch to assess the roof area. Run a quest for “pitch multiplier table” and search for the estimation of your roof’s pitch in inches on the left part of the table. Record the similar pitch multiplier to use in your after calculations. For instance, a roof with an ascent of 3-in-12 will have a pitch multiplier of 1.031, while one with an ascent of 8-in-12 will utilize a multiplier of 1.202. You can have the option to of various solid pitch multiplier tables with a fast Internet search. 4: Increase the region by the pitch multiplier to get the roof area: To begin with, multiply the length by the width. Then, at that point, take the result of these two measurements and multiply it by your pitch multiplier. The number you get will be an exact measure of the region you need to cover for your roofing task. 5: Divide your assessed area by 100 to determine your materials. Roofing materials are packaged in “squares” that contain sufficient shingles to cover 100 square feet (9.3 m2). Partitioning 1,290 sq ft by 100, for instance, will tell to you that you need to arrange at any rate 13 squares to take care of work.  RPR Services is a property preservation work order processing and updating company, who provide all types of data processing for REO servicers and inspections QC and processing services to National, Regional, and Inspection Companies.

For More About Property Preservation Work Order Processing Services Visit https://www.rprservices.com/state/property-preservation-work-order-processing-services-texas/

[yandere-sin-and-obsession]

Oc’s

Request are open, find a fave and send in a request. More coming soon.

Kaya/Kia Sakrura

Gender at birth- female

Age- 23

Height- 165.1 cm (5'5)

Occupation- unknown pays very well

Medical - high pain tolerance

Description- Curvy, top-heavy woman with a full hourglass shape, wide hips and a slight tummy, no scars

Background- Kaya is the middle child of a mostly male family aside from her mother and trans brother, her parents are divorced. Her mother is single and living in Japan while her father is remarried and in Australia. Kaya had no connection with her family after she moved to America. Kaya is a lazy and manipulative person who puts little effort into what she does so people don't ask any more than what they think she can give. She's smarter than she looks and is very good with tech and computers, she gets around and is very “friendly” with those in power.

Vittoria/Vrisk Taylor

Gender at birth- female

Age- 20

Height- 142.24 cm (4'8)

Occupation- reporter

Medical- Albinism

Description- a short, thin woman with a pear-shaped body, no scars, piercings, or tattoos.

Background- Vrisk is an only child both parents died in a car accident when she was young. Vrisk is kind and sweet but she is willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants while protecting what she cares about. She once was a freelance photographer before deciding she wanted to be a reporter.

Travis Neilman

Gender at birth- male

Age- 24

Height- 187.96 cm (6'2)

Occupation- unemployed

Medical- none

Description- Tall, lanky man with a rectangular and feminine body shape. No piercings, tattoos, or scars.

Background- Travis father owns three major and successful businesses all though he acts and seems like a nice guy he has no problem using you as a stepping stool to get what he wants. His mother died when he was seven because of terminal cancer,. He thinks she left him behind with his harsh father at the time, now that he's older, his father is always trying to make a connection with him to which he normally shrugs off. He's an only child and will never have to work a day in his life. He lives life fast and hard without a care in the world, able to charm anyone into his deceitful arms.

Marcus Anderson

Gander at birth- male

Age- 21

Height- 6'4

Occupation- personal trainer

Medical- unknown

Description- Tall, fit man with an inverted triangle body shape, slight scarring on his back and chest almost completely healed, three cartilage piercings on his left ear, a spine tattoo on his spine, and a smoke tattoo on the front of his neck.

Background- Marcus has no parents or siblings to speak off was in the system until he turned 18. He prefers not to talk about his childhood. Women and men normally hire him for his appearance especially his more wealthy client's, but he shows little interest in them opting for someone who would like him for him rather than his appearance.

James Williams

Gender at birth- male

Age- 23

Height- 5’10

Occupation- Ceo

Medical- none

Description- A slim man with a trapezoid body shape. Slight scarring on his knuckles, no piercings, no tattoos.

Background- James is an upstanding CEO at one of the second-largest production companies. James has an older sister who has never had an interest or intention of seeing him. When he was little his parents were often away on business trips leaving him a little attention and touch starved because of this, he falls hard and fast.

Lucas Mercia

Gender at birth- male

Age- 25

Height- 6’0

Occupation- cashier at a flower shop

Medical-none

Description- Tall, lean, with slight muscle definition. A small scar curved under his eye on the left side of his face and a tongue piercing, no tattoos.

Background- He unofficially works for Kaya having been suckered into a deal with her when he was young and desperate for money. He’s zero contact with his family, due to past trauma and abuse.

[losinmortalesperdidos]

"Time travelers?" they chuckled. "No. Only in movies and shows, but I don't think they're impossible." Since it was possible to step between two dimensions, two absolutely different worlds, through the accidentally opened door, since it was possible to be a walking portal between them, time travels didn't seem so absurd to them.

"On the stool or the bench, your choice," they gestured at the simple wooden pew standing aside. "I'm going to prepare the plate, it'll take a couple of minutes, and you can decide how you sit."

They left the room through the small door behind the curtain. There was their Red Room where they developed the film and dried photos. A little while after they returned carefully carrying the rectangular glass plate which they put into the slit on top of the camera. "Ready?"

She wondered if her grandfather knew about that sort of thing, what he would have thought about it. He must have known. He was a man who knew a little about every little thing.

Realizing the cup he held was for her, she smiled sheepishly, taking her offerings with a nod.

"You've seen em before?" But she realized something; his compliment was devoid of flirtation. Telling her she looked good wasn't followed by a cheeky smile. It was just... honesty. His honesty.

Without a word, she walked over to the table, took a sip of her tea, and set it aside.

"On the stool?" she motioned in front of the camera.

[stegrossaurus]

Hello and Goodbye

Hello and Goodbye

by Dale

HELLO

I barely noticed it at first. Missy was at the age when she loved leaving little messages with the fridge magnets and she could’ve easily left that one before she and her mother had gone out of town. 

“Hello,” I absently said back to the magnets. It was quiet with my wife and daughter visiting family, so I sometimes talked to myself. I got what I needed from the fridge and closed the door.

HELLO               HELLO

           HELLO

Those got my attention. “How many of these magnets are there?” Two of the Hellos were higher that Missy could reach even with her step stool, which was another weird thing. “I guess Shelly did those.” I pushed on the door a bit to make sure it was closed (there was a bit of a chill in the air) and started making lunch.

The chill didn’t go away at all. The summer sun and the heat from the stove did nothing to stop goosebumps from rising on my arm. At first, I thought the stove was broken and that scratching sound I was hearing was something out of place inside. But the range under the pan was still red hot and the scratching was in the walls.

“Rats? Didn’t we get rid of them?” 

I tried to follow the sound as it moved in the walls towards the window. Then I noticed that the light from the window seemed a little dimmer than before. The sun was clearly still out and there were no clouds that I could see, but there was somehow less light coming through the glass.

I got closer to see what was happening when more scratching, louder and fiercer, shook the cabinets. The stove rattled a bit as the sound moved past it and the fire sprung up from the range. I turned off the heat, but before I could put it out, I saw the fridge.

WHO ARE YOU?               TOO FAST    WRITE IT DOWN

                            DANGEROUS                                     IT WANTS TO KILL YOU

SHE’S ASLEEP         HA                                   IDIOTS

                                       HA             LUCIFER            HOW LONG?

                 4                         HA

Who could have written that in the seconds since I’d last looked at the door? We didn’t even have that many magnets. The scratching and the rattling got stronger.

“Who are you? What’s going on?” I shouted, spinning around, trying to catch whoever was in my house. The room darkened further and the microwave jolted on. “Whatever this is, it isn’t funny! You can’t just come in here! This is my house!” 

Something wet and purple started spreading on the walls as the magnets swarmed across the fridge door, making messages I couldn’t interpret. The soup on the burning stove started accordioning, soft and sponge-like, out of the pan. I backed away from the counters, too afraid to grab a knife.

 Then my phone started to chill like an icecube in my pocket. I pulled it out my shaking hands and looked at the weird, gray static flowing across the screen. 

“What’s your name?” a soft, raspy voice echoed from the phone.

“Dale,” I choked out, too scared to do anything but answer.

The static rushed in one direction until some gold came into view: a large eye with a rectangular pupil surrounded by matted gray fur. 

“Are you pretty, Dale? Will you help me?”

I found the feeling in my legs, dropped my phone, and ran. I bolted down the main foyer to the front door, with darkness and high laughter following me. I ran like I never had in my life, but the trip from the kitchen to the door had already taken over 30 seconds when the darkness overtook me. The family photos on the wall changed like molding slabs of meat, showing creatures like out of a nightmare. Snarling fangs, curved horns, oozing tentacles, hideous faces surrounded by snakes. And they were all talking.

“Solve the equation.” “Who does he love?” “We know you’re there.” “What do you look like?”

Their voices were like records skipping, nothing was coming through perfectly. Not that I wanted to listen. The door was still getting closer, the new longer hallway didn’t go on forever. I ignored the screeching and laughing from the monstrous pictures on the wall and kept running.

I got closer to the door. The frosted window looked dark, but I could tell the world outside it was bright and normal. I’d just put my hand on the handle when something slammed against the glass from the outside! I could almost make out angler fish fangs and octopus tentacles as I scrambled back.

“LOOK!” it shouted as I scrambled to the now-tainted living room. “Blood! She’ll be soaked!” It laughed cruelly as the living room darkened and started to shrink.

It wasn’t my living room anymore. A new, worse world was taking it over. The walls were turning that rotting purple, the windows were rearranging, images of teeth and eyes played on the TV. Random letters and mathematical formulas burned into the hardwood. As I skittered around to avoid them. The portrait of my family melted into another demonic beast: a rail-thin, green-skinned man with a cruel grin and a black fiddle.

“Are you the one doing this?” I asked. No answer. “You can’t stay here. This is my house.” The answer I got was harsh laughter.

The furniture moved closer as the walls closed in, warping and growing new layers of fabric like a fungus. I went for the fireplace poker, but every trace of the fireplace was gone, replaced with a large square opening leading somewhere even darker.

“This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.” I whispered it over and over as the room kept slowly pushing in. 

The love seat, couch, and recliner, covered with fur and scales and slime, closed in tighter as the laughter got louder. I tried to remember every exorcist movie I’d ever seen. Crosses, holy water, prayers; all of it slipped through my mind like water. A blob of blue ooze rose up at my feet, forming a candle, and a form shimmered into existence right in front of me. A thin, humanoid figure with a head full of horns and three golden eyes surrounded by matted gray fur kneeled next to the candle.

“Do you like Rowena?” a mocking voice asked. “Will you marry Rowena?”

The creature on the floor hissed, but didn’t acknowledge me. 

“Is that what you want? To marry me?” I was baffled. The whole situation was flooding my brain. What would happen when I said no? What would happen to Shelly or Missy?

That thought crystallized in my brain. Shelly and Missy. When they came home in a few weeks from visiting Shelly’s parents, they’d be in the middle of all of this. Whatever this was would attack them. If it really wanted me to marry this Rowena, it would kill them.

“Get out,” I said, clearer and stronger than I’d felt in the last several minutes. “NOW!”

I kicked over the candle and shoved the mutated furniture out of my way. I swiped at the oozing picture of the demon man and tore it off the wall, which started turning white again. The laughter turned to screams as I kicked the recliner away and marched over to the former fireplace.

“Get the hell out of my house! I don’t want you!” I reached into the darkness, felt some kind of fabric, and yanked it out. “I don’t need you!” I tore out more fabric and kicked over a dresser that was changing into some kind of altar. “I have Missy and Shelly!”

With every second I fought, my house turned a little back to normal. The altar reverted to a dresser and a small crucifix fell out of the drawer. I picked it up, and started the only prayer I could remember.

“Our Father, who art in heaven.” 

The screaming turned to pleading as I continued and the room changed more and more back to normal. The ghostly figure on the floor was long gone, but it and others were visible on the TV, backing away in fright. They kept shouting something: Goodbye.

So, I finished my prayer with, “Forever and ever. Amen. Goodbye!”

And with that, it was all over. The fireplace was back. The floor was unmarked. The TV was showing the news. The family portrait and the dresser were on the floor and the furniture was out of place, but there was no sign of the haunting.

I took a breath, letting the adrenaline drain out of my body before I started cleaning up. Missy and Shelly didn’t need to know about what happened, whatever the hell it was.

“What the heaven was that?” Babylon yelped as she lay on the floor. When she sat up, her tentacles were wobbly, but the mouths on both sides of her head were smiling maniacally. “Did we actually contact a mortal spirit?”

“Of course it was, Babs! What else could that have been?” Crowla snapped shrilly. She scooted from the ouija board, now with a cross burned into the wood, and marked three 6s over her chest with her paw. “I told you we should’ve done this, Rowena. That ouija board’s a tool of God!”

Echidna tried to scoff like she always did when Crowla did her dead-again Satanist thing, but we all felt the spirit shove us to the floor when they crowded around the board. We all saw it smash the candle, turn the walls white, throw my clothes out of the closet, and tear down my Nicky Nero concert poster. We all heard that Christian prayer and saw that…thing in my scrying mirror. It was like another world was coming into ours and it hadn't seemed like the mortal plane. What if Crowla was right and we’d contacted someplace…else?

“Guys, keep it down,” I hissed, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “If you wake up the neighbors, they’ll tell my parents when they come home and they’ll crucify me.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Crowla asks, her eye sockets gaping. “Because I don’t think that spirit came from the mortal world.”

“OMS, we contacted Heaven, didn’t we?” Echidna dropped her cool act and let her snakes frizz out. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

“We’re gonna be fine. I ended the session, he said goodbye, and he’s gone,” I said. But was he?

I looked over the notepad I’d written the responses “Dale” gave us on. They came so quickly, I had to write them down.

how many are there? 

get rid of them. 

who’s there? 

come here. 

this is my house. 

are you the one? 

stay. 

marry me now. 

want you. need you. 

i miss hell. 

He’d gone crazy when Babylon joked about him marrying me. Thank Satan I’d ended the session before something worse had happened.

I heard a sharp grunt and jumped to my hooves before I realized it was just Batibat. I knew she slept like she was at peace but I still couldn’t believe she hadn’t woken up through all that. She hadn’t even disturbed the bowl of blood Babs had put her hand in. Once Babylon had stopped chattering with Crowla, she’d be gratified to see the wet spot spreading on Batibat’s sleeping bag.

“You know, there are easier ways to find out if Lucifer Baal likes you. You could just ask him to the solstice massacre,” Echidna said, trying to sound playfully jealous. She’d been sneaking hemlock into his lunch since second grade. But I knew she was just trying to get things back to normal.

“You’re probably right. I might just study for my math test, too. Million times easier,” I said nonchalantly, hoping to put the whole thing out of my mind.

But I couldn’t. A dead spirit wouldn’t miss Hell if it was at peace in the mortal world. Right? So “Dale” must have been from Heaven. And if he ever finds a way back here, my parents, my math test, and Lucifer Baal will be the least of my problems.

[pastanest]

A/N: if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post.

Negan x she/her!reader

Secret

There isnt a smile on your face, you cant allow yourself to let it show, not to everybody else. But as your hands grip the green fabric of your bag, you can feel the excitement of the smile within you, even when it’s so forbidden. Perhaps that makes it better, as much as you hate to admit it.

Shaking your head, you focus your attention on keeping your footsteps at the pace of a steady walk rather than the joyous skips you wish you could make in time with your ever-increasing heartbeat. Gaze fixed downwards, you do well to avoid any eyes that could be on you, despite being all too aware of just how normal the sight of you on this particular journey has become to practically everybody in Alexandria. None of them know exactly why, though.

“You can head home now, I’ve got it from here!” You greet Michonne, admittedly a little too excitedly, but you’re too close to put it off any longer.

The swordswoman gives you nothing more than a small smile and a nod before she takes her leave, dropping the keys into your hand as she passes you. And then, you’re free.

Fingers trembling, you fumble with the keys to unlock the first door, your heart skipping a beat as you step inside and close it behind you. Giddy nervousness takes ahold of you, and you cant bring yourself to turn around, your view strictly locked on the door.

“Hello again, sweetcheeks.”

Your smile erupts free at last, and you spin on your heel, grinning at him as you pull the wooden stool over to his cell door and sit yourself down in front of it. Chuckling at you, Negan strolls his way over to you and sits on the floor with his arms casually holding his knees.

“Have you got somethin’ for me today, or am I lucky enough to just get your company?” How dare someone with a history as sadistic as his, have a smile as insanely charming as that.

“My company is a guarantee, but I do have something else for you, as it happens.” You hint playfully, gesturing to your bag as you place it on the floor beside you.

On the other side of the bars, Negan raises his eyebrows up at you, pretending to be surprised. “Oh, dollface, you shouldnt have!”

Feeling more like a teenager with a crush with every second that passes, you giggle bashfully and start digging through your bag. In no time at all, your hands grasp either side of the sealed rectangular cake tin and pull it out to show him. As you lift the lid, Negan gasps.

“Okay, you really shouldnt have gone to all this effort for me, you know Im more than happy with just your company.” He says, his guilt evident in his voice.

Sighing, you lift a couple of plates from your bag and a large knife. “I know, but you’re stuck in the dark all the time living on leftovers, it isnt healthy. The least I can do is sneak some sugar into your system and breathe some life back into you.” And with a shrug, you begin cutting into the lemon sponge cake you’d deliberately been saving up weekly lemon rations for. Everyone gets their share, but you needed more, and for that, you had to wait.

To match the gesture, a pair of equally lovesick eyes watch your gentle movements.

Placing one slice of cake onto a plate, you leave the knife on the other plate, and turn Negan’s portion on its side, holding the cake to the plate as you carefully pass it between the bars. When he reaches for it, his fingertips happen to brush your hand, securing the cake to the plate so that you can let go, but you dont, not right away. For one precious moment that you know you’ll daydream about until you see him again, your eyes stare into Negan’s with a longing like you’ve never known. You are under strict orders not to ever unlock Negan’s cell, and you know that if you did, you could never bring yourself to lock it again, so this barrier has parted you since the day you met.

“Why is it this guy’s locked up here?” You had asked innocently, particularly wary as you glanced around at the street that was populated with otherwise normal looking people.

How was it that within these walls, these people had built a society like the world before, with a neighbourhood and even a prisoner? It was a little too unsettling, the thought of what a person would have to do in the world today to be deemed by others unsafe to roam around, but not bad enough to simply slaughter.

“He killed good people, and holds no regret or guilt about it.” The leader of the community, Rick, had explained to you all those years ago.

He was a good man, you knew it even on that first day. It was him that had found you outside while on a run and brought you in, to the first safety you’d known since the world changed.

Your eyes had lingered on the staircase that led to the cell of the mysterious criminal, but Rick led you on. After all, the prisoner was not a destination on your tour. It wasnt until a few weeks later, when the ones in charge had begun to trust you, that you had been properly introduced. Some part of you was desperate just to see him, having heard so many different things about him from everyone in Alexandria. You were so curious that you had even volunteered to take some shifts on watch over him, and that was how it started.

“He doesnt usually care who else goes in when Im already there, so it’s safest if I go in first.” Rick had explained as he led you there, but you’d already passed that place with curious eyes enough times to know exactly where you were going.

What Rick said made sense, you’d heard plenty about his personal rivalry with Negan, and knew that Rick didnt often go to him for fear of trying to kill him if Negan didnt shut up, which he infamously didnt. It seemed logical that with Rick there, Negan’s attention would be fixed on taunting him, and therefore made it safe for you to observe him, get used to the type of things you may hear him say when you were to be alone with him.

“Give me a minute, then come on in. I wont give any kind of signal, makes it too obvious to him, so just come in as quietly as you can, when you’re ready.” Rick gave you an encouraging smile as he held your shoulder, and then both his hand and smile were gone, abruptly turning from you and unlocking the door.

Taking a deep breath, you waited, tapping your shoes against the ground impatiently. Maybe 30 seconds passed before you couldnt take anymore, and you followed Rick inside as quietly as possible.

“-such a lovely surprise to have you visit-“

Your eyes met Negan’s, and whatever he was in the middle of saying to Rick was immediately forgotten. Swallowing nervously, you felt frozen to the spot, and as the stranger smiled at you, something strange erupted in your stomach. If you werent desperate to believe it was anything else, you could have sworn it was butterflies.

“Now, this is a lovely surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure, m’lady?” Negan tucked his arm under his stomach and bowed, that dazzling smile charming you even when locked behind bars.

Experiencing things you never thought you’d feel again, like you’d been transported back to the world before, or your memories of it at the very least; you couldnt form a single word to reply to him, and that only seemed to make him grin wider.

Unfortunately for you, Rick took the conversation back after that, and they began their back and forth verbal jabs at each other, while Negan cast flirtatious glances at you. Whenever he said something particularly funny, you found yourself using all your strength to hold back a laugh, while Negan would watch your reactions intently and wink when he saw you really struggling to resist him.

Years have passed since that first day, and so much has changed. Rick sadly passed away, or disappeared, as Daryl likes to say. By now, naturally you know the gruesome details of Negan’s sentence, but you have asked him about every single thing you’ve heard about him, and he has been honest with you. As horrific as his past actions are, you can understand his logic behind them, the rules he had to uphold. Not to mention, you werent part of the group when he was in control of them, so you didnt grieve any of their losses or experience any of their pain. It’s all in the past to you, and you know for a fact that you are the only person here that sees Negan as more than an ancient enemy.

“This is almost as gorgeous as you, how do you do it?!” He asks in humoured disbelief, utterly besotted by you as he picks up some more of his slice of cake and throws it back in his mouth.

Chuckling, you smile at Negan endearingly. “What can I say? Miracles happen when inspired by such a charming muse!”

Negan shakes his head. “Now, dont get me wrong, this cake is fuckin’ good, but make no mistake, the only miracle here is you.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you place your own plate down on the floor beside you.

“If I was some miracle, I would’ve gotten you out of here by now.” Your voice cracks with emotion at the end of your sentence and you’re quick to look away from him, always hating when you get upset in front of Negan because he cant reach out and hold you, and you know that kills him.

“Hey, hey, you stop that right now, you’re far too pretty to cry over some guy!” He teases playfully, hoping to bring a smile back to your face, and of course, he does.

You let out a mix between a chuckle and a scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Some guy?! Right!”

Negan grins. “That’s my girl, smile for me.”

Shaking your head, you wipe your eyes and sniffle. “I just wish-“

Negan cuts you off. “I know, but your life here would be ruined if you helped me, and I wont let you do that, not for me.”

You nod, accepting defeat because you know he’s right. If you got him out, it would so easily be found to be you that had done it, because you would have been on watch when he suddenly disappeared. And if that happened, it would most definitely be you in that cell. Still, that doesnt mean you dont wish for his freedom far more often than you do almost anything else.

Over the past few weeks, though, the thought has been playing on your mind even more. To the point where you truly struggle to get to sleep nearly every night because you’re busy trying to formulate potential plans of breaking Negan out. Each one seems as unlikely as the next, and you continually fall asleep with a sinking feeling as you realise your own failure each and every time. But as the days progress, the threat of the Whisperers grows, taking up the space in conversations around Alexandria that were usually reserved for gossiping about Negan, the same thing happening in official meetings, and you sit back and watch in complete disbelief as Negan becomes an afterthought.

And quite suddenly, you find yourself packing a bag in anticipation of your next night watch shift over your forbidden love, but this time, it isnt a cake tin that’s concealed. It’s cans of food, bottles of water, flashlights, a pair of handguns, ammo, and spare clothes, both for you and a man. The keys to Negan’s cell are already attached to a loop in your jeans, having been to see Michonne when she was on watch before you and pretending to arrive at your post, only to sprint back to your house the second you knew she was gone. You know Negan is going to be worried sick, he knows you were due on watch tonight, and he knows you’re late, but once he realises why, it’ll all be worth it.

The streets of Alexandria are dark as you take your memorised, most discrete route to his cell, avoiding all the points where you know others are posted on watch. When you reach the stairs, you all but jump down them, and this time when you fumble with the keys, you’re so excited you almost drop them.

Stepping inside, you’re greeted by Negan already standing at the very front of his cell, his hands holding the bars of his cell door, his eyes wild with confusion and worry as he stares at you.

“Where-“

But there’s no time for his question, you’ve dropped your bag on the floor, and Negan stops dead in his tracks. That isnt your usual cloth bag, it’s a waterproof rucksack, and it’s packed full.

“What’s this?” He asks, even more confused.

“We’re getting out of here, that’s what this is.” You tell him, speeding over to his cell door and fumbling with the keys all over again, your trembling fingers retrieving a key you’ve only ever stared at longingly.

Shaking his head frantically, Negan walks backwards until he hits the wall at the far end of his cell. “No, not happening.”

You lock eyes with him so that he can see the fires of determination blazing in yours. “This isnt for you, it’s for me, for us. We are getting out of here.”

The cell door swings open, creaking loudly in the silence left behind in the wake of your clarification, your words sinking into Negan like the raindrops he’s only been able to see from the window for so many years.

He takes a single step forward, then another, then another, each as hesitant as the one before. And soon enough, Negan is standing in the doorway of his cell. You step back, breathless as he walks free, but he doesnt so much as glance at the door to freedom, his gaze stays on you, even as tears fill it. Your vision of Negan is blurred by your own, and when you feel his fingertips graze yours, you gasp, tears flowing freely down your cheeks and undeniable butterflies escaping the confines of your body, enveloping the two of you in a moment neither of you will ever forget. The world itself slows to a stop. Not wanting your own tears to blind you for a second longer, you blink them away, and Nega’s other hand lifts to hold one side of your face, his thumb brushing away your tears as he smiles down at you with the love you’ve felt in his gaze for so long, but can now feel resonating within you.

“Where are we headed?” Negan whispers into the silence, and you close your eyes, nuzzling into his palm with a smile on your face that is of complete and utter peace.

“So long as it’s with you, I’ll be the happiest person in the world absolutely anywhere.” You answer, opening your eyes to stare up at him.

Negan smiles down at you, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You and me both, dollface.”

[justsabian]

Humans are space.. pets?  (Entry 7)

Masterpost

I decided after my last entry that it would be in my best interest to document anything and everything I can get my hands on to aid in making a plan.  After I finished writing, I got up and wrote all the following notes; I am writing this introduction after for ease of reading.  This entry will be mostly informational and provide insight into the living conditions of the sapients on this planet.

...

I could not get exact measurements of anything, so all measurements will be by my best estimation.  

The dwelling is composed mostly of a smooth black stone.  The walls and flooring are all this material, whereas the ceiling is made of sand composite.  The ‘kitchen’ area carries over the main themes of the rest of the dwelling, but the bases of the counters seem to be metal.  The drawers are capable of being pulled out to make a staircase and roll easily out- when not locked.  It could be possible to climb up via the edges of the drawers, but it would be more difficult.  The counters are too far apart to do a jump off of one onto the other.  There are windows at eye level when standing on the counter, perhaps these could be broken or opened to climb out of; it would be a long drop on the other side though.  

In the main entryway, there is a piece of furniture that resembles a couch.  It’s in the center of the room and too heavy & large for me to drag anywhere.  Besides that, the front area is barren.  The sapients have removed the carrier they brought me here in, so it’s a non-factor.  

The second room of the house, the ‘bedroom’, is slightly more furnished.  There’s a storage unit across from the doorway (which has no actual door, I’m unsure why) and 3 smaller pieces of furniture.  Two I would equate to being chairs or stools, and one that might be decorative as I see no obvious purpose for it (it’s shaped kind of like a lamp but there’s no lighting system).  Above the storage unit there is one small, narrow window.  Aside from that, there is a large rectangular piece of furniture that resembles a bed.  There aren’t any blankets or pillows, just a sort of soft looking square of white material.  There is a door out beside the bed, but the handle is too high up for me to reach and appears to work differently than a traditional human made one.  Underneath the bed I have stored my ‘mattress’, as well as my journal.  My remaining supplies are hidden under the storage unit.

To take stock:

Swiss army knife

One (1) plain granola bar

One (1) canteen with drinking water (1 quart)

Radio

4 AA Batteries (rechargeable)

Translator 

Utility belt (Just empty pockets)

This journal

A pen (half of ink remains)

My current plan is pretty loose, but hopefully efficient.  If it fails, I’ll have to factor in whatever variables I missed.  

I’ll pack up my supplies onto my utility belt (that is what it’s made for, after all) and wait underneath the bed for a viable opportunity.  When the sapients open the side door, I should be able to dodge out around their legs and get outside.  Once out, I should be able to slip though the fence.  The gaps are large enough for me to fit through if I saw correctly through the window.  From there, I should be able to bolt.  It’s mostly flat, plain terrain out there, but there are other sapient dwellings and various structures it may be possible to hide near.  If I made it this far, the next goal would be to get to the wreck of the Dutchess.  She’s in ruins, but I may be able to salvage something useful, even if it is just scrap metal.  From here, I’d radio my team and let them know I got out.  After gathering approximate locations, I’d be able to formulate an exact plan on how to get them all out.  The next step would rely very heavily on Lily being able to make a way to communicate out of atmosphere, but we should be able to get something from the ruins of the Dutchess to send out an SOS.  Then, hope and pray to whatever gods there might be.

Plan B is to wait it out and continue documenting what I can from the sapients.  Perhaps more information will allow for a better plan to be made.  This is probably the safer option.

I’m undecided what route I will take as of now.  I want out now, but patience is an important skill to master and may reveal an easier way out.  

Captain Crow, plotting.  [There’s a crude doodle of a bird with a pencil next to his signature]

Entry 8

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{Taglist <3}

(you can comment or message me to be added or removed!  Thank you all so much for your support!)

@fishtale88  @anactualvelociraptor @ace-cat-nerd @thatquietkid108 @dyn-mellt @arataya @klltsun-25 @librowyrm

[florxdexcerezos]

Olly's store was a garden of Eden - buckets of different kind of flowers lining the wall and the floor. In the centre was long rectangular table with examples of themed bouquets. There were a couple of customers in the store, admiring the flowers on the wall. while Olly sat prettily on a stool behind the counter.

When Lucius opened the door to the store, a bell twinkled above his head, catching Olly's attention. When he noticed Lucius, his focused expression melted into a bright smile. Heart racing, he beckoned the man closer.

"Of course, come into the back. I'll swap with Amelie." He stepped from his stool and lifted part of the counter to allow him to follow him. A quick conversation was had with Amelie who left the room to take Olly's place behind the counter. Which left Olly to lean against the long table in the room, covered in flowers. "Whatcha got for me?" Must be important if he was taking time out of his day to come and see him in person.

━━ ✦@florxdexcerezos

Elizabeth's words echoed around in his head as he stood across the street from the flower shop he had come to know so well. Lucius, are you asking me permission to ask Olly out on a date? He hadn't even finished the whole thing that he wanted to say. No, not permission, Liz. I just want to know if you would be okay with it? She had laughed, not maliciously, before hugging him. Luci, I've seen the way you've looked at him for a while now. All the flowers you buy at the office for birthday and publishing celebrations come from Olly's shop. I've known for a long time. It took you long enough. But know that if you hurt him I will hurt you. But I know you won't. She sighed before letting him go and adding. Great, now my only two friends are dating each other and I have to be the awkward third wheel when we hang out now.

But as he stood here, just across the road, he didn't ask her if perhaps Olly liked him back. Sure the three had been friends for years now, but this was. God, he was nervous. Nope, he was going to take control of his story this time. Like the characters in Elizabeth's novels, the ones he hated sometimes when he had to read through them before handing them off to the editors. Just do it. As soon as the light turned green, he rushed across the street. Walking into the shop like he had a million times before but it was different this time. ❝ Hey, Olly. I have something to ask you. ❞

So much for trying to be the leading man.