nurtmeup

[witchersmistress]

Wedding Night Woes

Hello my darlings!! here is a little more Walter for ya....

Trigger Warnings: Blood, swearing, violent threats, Walter being an asshole. loss of virginity, more asshole behavior from Walter. gentle rough sex, body peircings.

Word count: 3.5K

Walter’s POV

My wife stands before me in the very spot I signed my life away for her three years ago. Her watery eyes meet mine, and I smile at the blood smeared across her lips. I felt her body stiffen when I kissed her at first. The way she tried to fight me. But a part of her, the best part, melted into me. Her body is going to crave being mine. I’m going to parade her around as my own personal fucking trophy for all to see. For her father to be disgusted and ashamed. The bell is rung, slicing through the silence of the Cathedral. She jumps at the loud intrusion, trying to take a step back, but I hold her in place. My eyes drop to the blood trail that makes its way from her neck to her chest. She will bleed for me in more ways than one tonight.  “Walter.” My name is spoken softly on her trembling lips. “Yes, little darling?” My eyes lift to meet hers. “Go to hell,” she whispers, referring to my last statement.  I smile at her. “It’s going to be so much fun bringing you to your knees, Mrs. Marshall.” She swallows.

 Amelia’s POV

 He grabs my hand and helps me off the altar, and immediately pulls me down the aisle covered in the white carpet. Everyone stands on either side to watch us go. My parents don’t even try to catch up and speak to me. But what is there to say? It’s too late. I’m now married in the eyes of the Ravens. The pastor didn’t even ask those who opposed to speak now or forever hold their peace. Because he knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Once a Master chooses his Ravenias, there is no going back. We make our way outside and rain instantly drenches me. I squeal, throwing my free arm over my head. He’s already got a black limo parked right in front of the Cathedral, and he holds the back door open for me to jump in. That’s probably the most gentlemanly thing he’ll ever do for me. I get as far away from him as I can, which is hard, considering my dress is in the way. Finding a seat, I yank on my train just as he shoves it into the car and gets in. Placing my hands on the now ruined silk, I don’t even bother looking out the window to see if my family came out to see us off. It doesn’t matter. There was a big and elaborate wedding reception planned that was also supposed to take place at the Cathedral but I’m guessing that’s no longer needed.

 He proved his point and made me his wife. We sit in silence as the driver takes the curvy two-lane road while the rain comes pouring down. He takes us downtown and my heart races when he pulls under the awning of the hotel, knowing why we’re here. I was hoping that he’d skip this part. The valet opens the back door for us, and Walter exits. It takes me a moment to get back by the door, and I mumble a thank you as a man at the valet helps me out. “Congratulations.” The guy smiles when his eyes land on my wedding dress, and I feel my shoulders slump, unable to thank him this time. No matter how rude of me that is. Walter takes my hand and drags me up the black velvet stairs and through the glass door. I feel eyes on us, so I keep mine on the white marble floor with the black diamond inlay design. My heels get caught in the dress, and I almost trip, but he yanks on my hand, keeping me up. We make our way through the elaborate lobby of the luxury hotel and to the elevators. We have to wait for ours, and I try to calm my breathing. I’ve spent a lot of my childhood here at the Harlowe. My father owns it. He has over five hundred locations in the United States alone.

People check in having no clue what kind of illegal activity goes down here. The Ravens place their members throughout the world to benefit their society. They will take the worst kind of evil, dress it up in a ten-thousand-dollar suit and give them an expensive bottle of scotch and the ability to suck your soul out of your body without you knowing. I’ve seen my dad do it too many times. Poor bastards never see it coming. Our elevator opens up, and we step into it. Walter pulls out a card before scanning it. This is the only one that has access to the floor. H for the honeymoon suite lights up and takes us over twenty-five floors up in silence. I run my wet hands down my dress when the door slides open, and we step into the suite. On any other day, it would be gorgeous. Red and white rose petals litter the white and gray marble floor. A black circular table sits in the middle of the foyer. A glass vase sits on top with the most beautiful red roses I’ve ever seen, and a bottle of champagne along with two flutes sits on either side. He walks past them, stepping down into the open living room. I slowly follow. “Gavin will be here shortly.” He finally speaks to me, making my pulse race. I’ve heard that name before. I’ve seen him a couple of times when he came to visit my father.  I’m pretty sure he’s a doctor. That has to be wrong. “Who … who is he?” That’s my biggest fear. That he’ll whore me out. Let others use me because I’m no use to him. Sell my body to make him some extra cash.

 This isn’t a marriage out of love. So why would he treat me with respect? “A doctor,” he clips, removing his black tuxedo jacket from his broad shoulders while walking farther into the room. I take a look around, seeing more flowers all over. The overwhelming smell almost makes me gag. I swallow nervously. Afraid I was right. “Why … Why do we need a doctor?” He comes to a stop and turns to face me, his peircing-blue eyes scrutinizing my smeared makeup from the downpour. I hate that I care what I look like right now. “Are you on birth control?” My cheeks flush. Phil didn’t want me on birth control. He wanted a baby straight away. An heir. A Raven is nothing if he doesn’t have someone to carry on his name. I hadn’t quite figured out how I was going to keep that from happening, but I wasn’t going to have Phil’s child. I answer Walter. “No.” “Exactly.” Turning his back to me, he goes over to the baby grand piano. A silver tray sits on top with a tinted decanter with an M in the middle. He removes the glass diamond top and pours the whiskey into one of the glasses that sits next to it. “The last thing I want to do is knock you up,” he adds.

I want to be happy that he doesn’t want to get me pregnant because I don’t want kids either. But instead, it pisses me off because it’s just one more way he’ll control me. Why wouldn’t he take away my ability to reproduce? Taking in a deep breath, I remind myself it’s something we agree on. But that thought also makes the hair stand on the back of my neck. He’s going to fuck me. I knew this day would come. That it would be my wedding day when a man would take my virginity. I just never thought it’d be my sister’s ex. A part of the agreement of me being handed over to Phil was that I was a virgin. I know the Ravens have to abstain from sex their first three 8 years at Barrington. He wanted me to remain one until our wedding night. If I didn’t bleed for him, then I would be considered a whore. My parents promised him my innocence, and I had to deliver. I know for a fact that Phil had been fucking women the past few years. I didn’t care. I actually prayed to God, hoping that Phil would fall in love with one of them and forget about his arrangement with me. They were not answered. Instead, God laughed at me and sent me someone far worse than Phil. 

“Here.” Walter offers me the second glass of whiskey, and I look from it to him, making no attempt to take the drink from his hand. “I didn’t drug it,” he growls. “I don’t believe you.” I lift my chin. He could have very easily slipped something into it since we entered the room. It only takes a second to spike a drink. I know. I’ve seen it done before. He rolls his eyes and throws the one he’s offering me back, proving that it was, in fact, not laced with something. Setting both down on the tray, he walks over to me, closing the distance, and I stiffen. “Why would I drug you?” I swallow nervously but answer honestly. “Makes me compliant. Easier to take advantage of.” Reaching up, he runs his hand through what’s left of my bun, pulling bobby pins loose and letting them drop to the floor at our feet. The long, wet curls fall down across my bare back and over my shoulder, some falling in front to frame my face. “That would be too easy.” He finally speaks, his knuckles brushing it off my shoulder. “I want you to feel me holding you down. I want you to hear yourself gasping for breath when I force you to come. And I want your eyes on mine while I make you cry. I’ll never drug you, Mia, because I don’t need you compliant. You’re now my wife, and I can take whatever I want from you.” My throat closes up while his eyes bore into mine. He’s got it all figured out. I hadn’t realized until just now that he’s had this planned. I thought it was a last-minute thing. Like he just woke up this morning and decided he would crash my wedding and make me his wife. 

But I was wrong. He’s had this plan for quite some time. The Cathedral, the hotel—he’s rubbing it in my father’s face. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to figure out any of this information. It's been in the works for years. My parents and Phil are making a big deal out of this day. “Walter, please…” “You’ll do that too, little darling.” His hand moves to cup my jaw and he lowers his lips to my forehead, brushing them against my skin. Words spoken as soft as the tender kiss and my pulse races at how calm he can be. How well he can hide what he really feels. He hates me and my family. I’m nothing more than an outlet for his revenge. His cell rings, making me jump, and he pulls away to answer it. “Hello? Yes, send him up.” The elevator dings before the door opens, and he turns, giving me his back. I let my shoulders fall while trying to calm my breathing. “Mr. Marshall. Good afternoon, sir,” a man’s voice says. “Who the fuck are you?” Walter growls. “I’m Jackson,” the man answers. “Where the fuck is Gavin?” he snaps. “He got caught up in surgery and asked me to fill in for him.” Walter pauses a second before he speaks. “She’s in here.” They enter the open living room a few seconds later. Walter is holding his cell to his ear, eyes on me. But after a few seconds, he hangs up. “Hello, Mrs. Marshall.”

 The kid gives me a big smile, and my stomach sinks that that’s what I’ll be known as now until the day I die. So easily stripped of my maiden name that once meant something to me. Harlowe is known around the world—wealth and power are just a couple of things. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always hated that my father is a Raven and the life we have to live, but that doesn’t mean I want to be a Marshall either. “This will only take me a second.” He places a briefcase on top of the piano and pops it open, pulling out a couple of packages. He rips one open, revealing a syringe, and the other is a vial full of liquid. “Whoa.” I take a step back. “I thought—” “You’re getting on the shot,” Walter interrupts me, and I look over at him to see he’s now standing at the island in the kitchen, making himself a new drink. “Too many women are irresponsible when it comes to taking the pill, and I refuse to wear a condom when I fuck my wife.” He glares at me, daring me to argue. My cheeks redden at the way he talks to me in front of this stranger in the room, but this is one fight I’ll let him win. The guy inserts the syringe into the vial and pulls back the plunger, filling it with the liquid. Once done, he looks at me. “Turn around and pull up your dress.”

 His eyes drop down to the train, and he frowns. “Walter might have to hold it for me.” I take several steps back away from him, my heels tripping over the silk material, and I fall onto the bench seat at the piano. “Excuse me?” I shriek, wide-eyed. “Turn around—” “You will administer it in her arm,” Walter snaps at the man, and I flinch when I hear him slam the glass down. “Of course.” The man nods, walking over to me. He opens the new alcohol pad before rubbing it on my arm. He lets it dry and then grabs the skin. “Small pinch,” he says and sticks me. I don’t even feel it. 

There are too many other things running through my mind right now. “How long will it take?” I ask, hoping he says days, maybe weeks. It could buy me some time to stay a virgin if Walter refuses to wear protection. “When was your last menstrual cycle?” the guy asks. “Earlier this week,” I answered softly, counting the days in my head. Phil planned our wedding around my cycle. I’ve always been like clockwork. I just recently got off it. He smiles. “You should be good then. As long as it’s five days out from when you started, it should work immediately.” Fuck my luck. “But I also brought some morning after pills that you can take just to be on the safe side. Just remember, they aren’t to be used as a form of birth control. Just last resort. You may experience some bleeding for the next couple of months but that’s nothing to worry about. Make sure to schedule another shot within twelve to thirteen weeks for it to be the most effective.”

 His eyes drop to my chest, and silence fills the large room. My eyes shoot over to Walter in panic. Am I paying? Will he let him fuck me now that I’ve received the shot? Is that another reason he’s putting me on birth control? So other men can’t get me pregnant when he allows them to fuck me? A Raven raising another Raven’s child? Unheard of as far as I know. If it’s not their bloodline, they don’t want it. It’s just another awful thing on a long list that disgusts me about these men.

 Walter was about to take another drink but set it down. Not as hard as last time. “Is there a reason why you’re staring at my wife’s chest?” he demands. I hate that my thighs tighten when he calls me wife. Like it actually means something. As if he will protect me. I could laugh at myself right now if I was alone. Walter Marshall only cares about himself. History proves that. “Oh no.” The guy chuckles. “The blood.” His eyes meet mine. “Do you need stitches?” “She’s fine,” Walter growls before I can say anything. “And your services are no longer needed.” “Just in case.” He removes some Band-Aids from his briefcase and drops them on top of the piano. Like they’re going to do me any fucking good.

 Walter walks him to the elevator, and then he returns. He stands with his hands in the pockets of his dress slacks. His crisp white button-up that once fit him like a glove is now wet, sticking to his skin and showing off his hard chest. My eyes drop to the way his abs flex as he breathes. His sleeves are rolled up, showing off his tanned and muscular forearms. A Rolex watch that I know must have cost him over a hundred grand sits on his wrist. All Ravens wear their crest on a ring while attending Barrington but take it off after graduation. They no longer need it. The brand on their chest is reminder enough of their devotion. My eyes drop to his wedding ring. It’s simple—a silver band. I haven’t gotten a good look at mine. But I feel it. It’s bulky and heavy, weighing me down. I used to think he was hot. I found him attractive when my sister dated him and was jealous of her. I was so stupid. 

An immature little girl who didn’t understand how the world works. I hate that he looks better now than he ever did back then. How is something so stunning so evil? He walks over to me, and with each step he gets closer, the louder my breathing gets. “Stand up and turn around,” he orders. Getting right to it. I stand on shaky legs and turn around to face the piano. I feel him reach up and unzip my dress. My breathing is erratic, my heart hammering in my chest. The room sways as the soft material slides down my body and pools at my feet. Heat covers every inch of my skin. All of a sudden, it’s too hot in here. I tremble when he gently moves my hair to lay over my shoulder before his knuckles touch the top of my spine and slowly run down the curve of my back, making goose bumps rise all over. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and I close my eyes tightly to keep from crying. I’m trembling. My heels are shaking on the marble floor, and I can feel the sweat beading across my forehead. I feel like I’ve turned my back on my sister. 

Even though I don’t have a choice in the matter, she would still hate me for what’s about to happen. She loved him. He just didn’t love her in return. Not the way she deserved. “Face me,” he softly commands. Taking in a shaky breath, I slowly turn to face him but keep my eyes closed. “Look at me, Mia.” His hand cups my cheek, and I open my watery eyes to meet his. His thumb brushes over my parted lips and I sniff. His eyes drop to my neck and then my chest, following the blood from when he cut me with the dagger at our wedding. Blood is our oath. I had to bleed for him in front of his fucking cult. And I’ll bleed for him now when he rips my innocence away. His knuckles run down my sternum and outline the top of my white strapless bra. Reaching around me, he brushes his lips on my ear while I feel him undo it.

 The material falls to our feet seconds later, making me whimper. When he pulls back, his piercing-blue eyes darken while devouring my breasts. I hate that my nipples are hard. I’ve waited so long for this moment. To become a woman. I wished I could have done it a hundred times with him. Back before he took the one thing that meant everything to me. “I’m going to take it easy on you,” he speaks softly, “because it’s your first time.” “Thank you,” I whisper, hating that he’s going to have so much power over me. That I’m going to have to thank him for everything. I will forever rely on him for food, shelter, fucking survival. Men like Walter don’t allow women to have their own careers or lives, for that matter. They are owned. Ravenias doesn’t need to know who she is. She belongs to her Master, and serving him is all that matters in their lives. His hand grips my chin and lifts my face, so I have to meet his cold stare.

 “It’s still going to hurt, Mia.” My stomach tied in knots, but my pussy pulses. I don’t understand it. Why is my body reacting to him when my mind knows it’s not right?  “And afterward, I won’t give you the courtesy of going easy,” he adds. “Do you understand?” “Y-yes.” My voice wavers, and my feet shift in my heels. He pulls away and gives me his back, ordering, “Go to the bedroom and lie on the bed.”

[yaozongzhupressoffice]

Dear Yao-Zhongzhu, recently a few thing happened and I (43, M) heard some people thought I was in the wrong in my actions despite the fact I personally felt justified in my behavior. Because I know you are an enlightened gentleman such as myself I was interested in your opinion on the matter as it always insightful. See, recently I was celebrating my only son (15, M) birthday, and as I love all of my family dearly, I sparred no effort in making sure that nothing could trouble this celebration. Everything was going well until one of my assistant let me know that there was somebody that was insistently asking to meet me. Despite the fact that it was an impolite request as it was made without taking into account the importance of the celebration that was held today, and since I am nothing but willing to help my people, I decided to go expressly meet this person with the intent of dealing with their request in a swift manner. (It had nothing to do with the fact that my wife (37, F) was in the same room as me when the identity of the person was announced to me and that she looked at me like she wanted to kill me on the spot after hearing that). When I met the person in question (15, M) I was immensely surprised to learn that they were claiming to be my son ! For some mysterious reasons my wife was not as surprised. Because, you know how it is, we all have a few bastards here and here, sometimes it’s one or two, sometimes it’s six or seven, sometimes I’m not sure I can count that high ! But most of the time they don’t show up to your doorstep to your legitimate son birthday party ! My wife was clearly heartbroken by this unpleasant interruption to her dear son birthday party and by this reminder of the various difficulties we had concerning conjugal and private matters in our relationship. Being her husband, I immediately took the matter in my hands and had the unpleasant reminder removed from her sight by having a servant throwing him down the stairs of our humble mansion (barely 200 steps). The critics comes from some representants from another family (I shall not disclose their identity but it start with a L and they like bland food) considered that it was uncalled for and started saying some weird slogans like « do not bully the weak » or « have courtesy and integrity » and complained that he « might have died » (he clearly did not, he walked away after barley one minute of looking dead and he could even bow). I personally feel like it was in the right as my son birthday party and my wife mood were my priority at this moment as a father and husband. But to conclude this matter I wanted your opinion so, dear Yao-Zhongzhu, Am I the Asshole ?

[DRAFT DOCUMENT v.1.2 FOR COMMENT ONLY. NOT FOR RELEASE]

Dear Venerable Anon-zongzhu gongzi [REDACTED BY COUNSEL, contextual information will reveal the identity of the writer]

A thousand thanks and blessings upon you for gracing this humble one's inbox with your question, and please extend my warmest well-wishes to Jin-furen [revise and anonymize--see above]. Of course, of course you wish only to ensure that your wife and heir have the peace of such a special day protected from interlopers, particularly when those interlopers are perpetuating such terrible and UNFOUNDED rumours!!! Furthermore, as we all know by now, the interloper in question was [REDACTED IN WHOLE; see above. zongzhu must endeavour not to include privileged information that will reveal the identity of the writer. please see the attached guidelines regarding how to avoid revealing personally identifiable information in official communications]

Naturally when a man of your elevated station [see above] must balance those oft-opposed ballasts of manhood and respecting your wife, it is inevitable that one must sire a bastard or two. [please see the attached sensitivity training slide deck made available at last year's general discussion conference] Who among us hasn't, after all, haha!! [REDACTED BY COUNSEL, irrelevant to the scope of the inquiry]

No, I will be honest with you, anon-zongzhu gongzi, and will share with you my real and whole opinion on this deeply personal family matter as you have laid it out before us:

[REDACTED IN FULL. zongzhu, call me asap]

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 24

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. But you do not have to read the others in the series to understand this fic.)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @themaradwrites @munstysmind @thebejeweledwatercat @fanficanatic-tw @asirensrage @kmc1989 @karimac @theesirenteller @residentdormouse @alisbackalleybbq @ninjasawakenedmystar @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @occommunity

Warnings: profanity, (very minimal) gun violence, (brief mention) blood, (minor) physical violence (I mean, the guy's a mercenary, mmmkay)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/132270193

My tag list is OPEN. Please just let me know if you'd like to be added :)

******

As smoke billows heavily from the garbage room and fire alarms blare, he leads her down the hall; a firm, protective hand on the back of her neck as they blend seamlessly into the steady flow of guests that head for the closest stairwell. Taking an alternate route would have caused too much suspicion; The Continental’s clientele well-versed in how to be deceptive and how to spot those guilty of the same. The majority is immensely loyal to Winston; with eyes that are forever curious and peeled and ears that are always open and lurking for even the smallest hint of trouble.

Drawing attention is the last thing he wants; keeping his rifle pressed tightly against his side as he makes random, mundane small talk with a clearly nervous and fearful Esme. Knowing that his voice -if kept low and steady and reassuring- is enough to calm her down and keep her focused; needing both his presence and the security and the confidence that he’s always been able to instil in her. Using both words and the pressure on her neck to keep her moving; encouraging her to match his slow and steady gait as opposed to adopting anything more frantic and hurried.

The growing crowd notices nothing amiss; intently focused on the reality of their situation as opposed to what others are doing around them. Chattering and grumbling to one another in a mixture of confusion, slight concern, and immense annoyance; questioning the cause of the fire and bemoaning disrupted naps and schedules as they pull on sweaters and overcoats. He never makes eye contact; his hand slipping from the nape of Esme’s neck to the small of her back as he steers her towards the stairwell. Pausing to hold the door open for others; accepting the words of appreciation tossed in his direction and returning them with nothing more than a simple nod. And when the last person begins making their way down the stairs, he lingers briefly on the threshold; waiting until the others are a flight below before turning on his heel and quietly closing the door behind him.

Fishing the lone key from his jacket pocket, he jams it into the control box and turns it all the way to the left; the toe of a filthy, well-worn combat boot rhythmically tapping against immaculate, gleaming marble as they wait for the elevator to reach their floor. Beside him, Esme nervously rocks back and forth on her heels and chews anxiously on the inside of her cheek; her eyes fearful, her complexion a washed out, almost sickly gray. Taking advantage of the lull in activity, he reaches out to gently tug on her hair; shooting her a wink and flashing a brief yet reassuring smile when she glances up at him.

The lift noisily rumbles to a stop, and as the door opens, he moves his hand to the small of her back; applying firm yet gentle pressure as he encourages her to step on, then directs her to stand against the side wall. Out of sight in case an employee beckons the elevator from another floor; wanting to avoid both a confrontation and the chance of her impending departure getting back to Winston.

He shoves the key into the control panel; holding it in place as his free hand activates the two-way radio clipped to his vest. “We’re in the elevator now. Heading to the basement, level one.”

“Copy,” Nik responds. “We’re right behind you; southwest stairwell, seventh floor.”

“Any word from Wick? About the outside?”

“He’s stationed across the street. Taken up position on the roof. His people are here; fire trucks out front, men inside checking the situation, evacuating people. Should make it easier for you to get around.”

“Armoured car?”

“ETA three minutes. It’ll be waiting for you.”

“How much time do I have?”

“Fourteen minutes. Before the hotel’s security system goes back online.”

Esme urgently tugs on his sleeve, whispering: “Ask about Millie” when he glances down at her.

“Have you heard from Alcott? About how things went?”

“They made it safely out of and away from the building. Met no resistance. They’re at the designated spot; Wick will join them once you and Esme are away from the building and you give the all-clear.”

“Millie?”

“I’m assuming she’s fine. Alcott didn’t say otherwise. No news is good news.”

“What about Winston? Any sign of him?”

“Not that I was told. I know that doesn’t exactly fill you with a sense of confidence…”

“I’ll handle him. If I have to.”

“Tyler…”

“We talked about this. You know where I stand. I’ll handle him.” Releasing the comms button on his transmitter, he gives Esme a small yet reassuring smile. “She’s good. They didn’t have any problems getting outta here. They’re a few blocks away, waiting on us to get the fuck out. And to pick up Wick.”

Esme breathes an audible sigh of relief. “I’ve just been so worried about her. She’s just so sensitive, you know? I know she’s tough and resilient, and she’s crazy smart, but she’s still just a little girl. It’s always just been her and I, and it was hard enough telling her that she couldn’t come with us, never mind sending her with someone else.”

“I don’t necessarily like the idea of her with other people, either. But it was the right decision to make; if things go wrong, at least she isn’t around to suffer because of it. And like you said, she’s in great hands.”

“I don’t trust many people when it comes to her. I wouldn’t send her with just anyone.”

“I know. I trust your instincts. And your choices. I wouldn’t have gone along with it if I didn’t.”

“I just didn’t want you to think that I’m neglectful or thoughtless or that I just leave her with random people. I just…”

“I don’t think any of those things. I never would. You did the right thing for Millie. Do you really think I would have gone along with it if I didn’t think that?”

Esme shakes her head.

“Stop doubting yourself. You’re a good mum, Me. You’re an amazing mum. You’ve done right by her. And I know it wasn’t easy; doing it all yourself. There’s no doubting how much you love her. How you’ve devoted your entire life to her.”

“She’s my baby. She became my entire world. And if anything happens to her…”

“Listen to me.” Laying a hand on the back of her neck, he firmly squeezes. “Nothing is going to happen to her. Alcott will make sure of that. She’s safe. And you’ll see her soon. I promise.”

“You’re not worried about her? Or scared or…”

“You kidding? I’m scared shitless. But I know she’s gonna be alright. She’s with people that would do anything to protect her. I wouldn’t have gone along with sending her with them if I didn’t truly believe that. Now…” He re-checks the tightness on her vest. “...what I need you to do is just breathe. Stay calm, keep your eyes and your ears open, and let me know if something doesn’t feel right. Okay?”

She nods.

“You just gotta breathe, Esme. Just breathe and trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

Patting down the pockets on her coat, he reaches into the left one and removes a black, purple and pink striped beanie. Gently slipping the garment onto her head and then giving her a wink as he tugs it down over her ears. “It’s cold out.”

She manages a smile; briefly leaning her body into his before once again issuing a long, heavy sigh. “Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“You KNOW.”

“What YOU know is that I hate when you talk in riddles.”

“You’re not going to go after him, are you? Winston?”

“Not intentionally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You either are, or you aren’t. What…?”

“I’m not going looking for him. That’s not what I’m here for. I’m not going to search the place; hunt him down like a rabid dog. Even if it IS what he deserves.”

“But?”

“If he tries to stop me from getting you out of here, then I’ll deal with him.”

“Tyler..”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want hear about the fucking rules of this place; how they're the only thing separating us from the animals. Or whatever bullshit he likes to preach. And I especially don’t want to hear about The High Table. Those fuckers have caused enough damage and enough problems to last a lifetime.”

“They are not the people you want to piss off. Haven’t you learned that by now? That they’re not the type of people you want to cross? After everything they did five years ago…”

“I already talked to Nik. If it comes to having to kill Winston and live with The High Table on my ass, she and Yaz will make sure you and Millie were kept safe. Taken care of.”

“So we basically just go back to the way things were? You in one place, us in the other?”

“If it has to be that way, then…”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. Five years wasn’t enough? I realize that was all my fault, and I can’t go back and make a different decision; I can’t ever erase what I did or make things right. But we just found each other again. After YEARS apart. And Millie just finally got her dad. And you’re willing to just say ‘fuck it’ and throw all that away?”

“I don’t want to fight. Especially right now. I don’t…”

“I’m not trying to fight. I’m trying to make sense of it. We are so close to having everything we wanted. Everything we should have gotten five years ago. And yet, you’re okay with losing that? For a second time? I don’t…”

“I’m not okay with anything. It’s not like I want to throw it away. It’s not like I love the idea of things going back to the way they were and…”

“You can’t retaliate. I know you’re pissed off; about that sniper coming after you and putting Millie in danger. And I know you hate this weird, gross obsession that Winston has when it comes to me. Believe me, I don’t particularly like the thought of it either. I understand why you’d want revenge. Part of me wants it to. But to go against The High Table and put a target right on your back…”

“I don’t care about me. If it comes down to protecting you…”

“You think it’s caring about me to put yourself in danger like that? Do you think that’s caring about Millie? You think we want you having to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?”

“Don’t I already do that?”

“Trust me when I say this, Tyler: there isn’t anyone you’ve gone against that is as vicious and cold-blooded and unforgiving as The High Table. They won’t just kill you. That’s going easy on someone, as far as they’re concerned. They will make you suffer. They will abuse you and torture you until you’re begging them to put a bullet in your head. Even then, that won’t even be enough. They’ll stop and give you a few days rest and then start all over again. And that will last weeks. Maybe months. Maybe even years. Do you think I want that? Them doing things to you? I already saved you from that shit once. Don’t make me do it again.”

“Don’t threaten me with that. Don’t…”

“I’m not threatening you. I’m begging you. Please don’t go after him. Don’t let him reel in you like that. He wants you to react. He wants you to snap and do something drastic because he knows he can’t bring you down any other way. None of his threats have worked. Offering you money didn’t work. The sniper didn’t get the job done. And he’s not going to get his own hands dirty. He wants you to draw blood on Continental grounds so that The High Table will come for you. How can you not see that? That he will do whatever he has to ruin everything. To ruin YOU. Don’t fall for his shit. You are way too smart for that.”

“I can’t let him hurt you. I can’t let ANYONE hurt you. And if he gets in my way…”

“If you’re not going to think of yourself, at least think of me. And Millie. We NEED you. We’ve always needed you.”

“You’ve already done almost five years on your own. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. If you have to…”

“It isn’t about ‘having to.’ It’s about not WANTING to. I don’t want to do this alone anymore. I didn’t want to do it alone the first time! I am begging you, Tyler. Don’t do this to me. To Millie. To US. Please don’t.”

“What am I supposed to do? If he tries to stop us? If he won’t let me take you out of here. How am I supposed to handle that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t…”

“Well, you better figure it out fast.” He glances up at the illuminated numbers above the elevator doors. “Because we have two floors to go and if we step out there without a fucking plan…”

“I don’t know. I don’t…” Briefly closing her eyes, Esme takes in a long, quivering breath. “...I’m just begging you not to kill him. I’m not saying you can’t defend me. Or yourself. He won’t break the rules; he’s not going to draw blood on Continental grounds.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. He’s not above The High Table. NO ONE is. He breaks one of their golden rules, and they WILL punish him. They will strip him of his management, deconsecrate this place, and allow it to become a bloodbath in here. He knows it, and he won’t even chance it. The power that comes with running The Continental and being in The High Table’s good graces are what matters most to him.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“I’ve spent enough time here…enough time around Winston…to know what he treasures most of all. And it isn’t me. It’s power. He won’t risk losing that. Not even for you.”

“So we just talk it out? What do we do? If he tries to stop us? You better hurry, Esme. Because once those doors open…”

“You just can’t draw blood. You can threaten him. You can rough him up. You just can’t kill him. You find another way to handle things. You’re smarter than you think, Tyler. Way smarter. If anyone can handle Winston and play him at his own game, it’s you.”

“So I’m allowed to at least beat the shit out of him?”

“Within reason. If you start, you have to know when to stop. Don’t cross a line you can’t cross back over. That’s all I’m asking. Because I love you, and I need you. And I’m trying to protect you. So just please…PLEASE…remember who you’re dealing with and what he wants from you. And DON’T give it to him.”

Tyler nods slowly as he considers her words, then lays a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him. Covering her mouth with his in a long, deep kiss that lasts until a melodic tone announces that the elevator has reached its final destination. Pulling away, a gloved hand tightly squeezes her neck. g “We’re going to be alright.”

“Stronger together than we are apart.”

“Yeah…” He offers a slow yet shaky grin. “...we are.”

*****

The rifle moves slowly; controlled by a steady and confident grip as it makes sweeping passes over closed doors, hidden alcoves, and empty hallways. The silence within the bowels and dark recesses of The Continental deafening; exacerbating the sound of every breath they take and the brush of their soles against the cement floor. Coming to an abrupt halt when voices puncture the stillness; muffled conversations within the laundry room as employees shut down equipment and prepared to evacuate the building. And when they grow louder and closer, and he hears the faint squeak of an opening door, he mutters a "fuck...fuck....FUCK" and seizes her by the front of her vest; quickly and aggressively dragging her into an alcove. His back pressed against the wall as he pulls her much smaller and lighter body into his; a forearm draped across her collarbone and a hand covering her mouth in order to ensure her silence.

When the threat passes, he issues a sigh of relief; an arm ushering her behind him as they once more continue their journey. Vaguely aware of the hold she has on his jacket; her footfalls light and quiet as opposed to his awkward, shuffling gait. His weight and size proving to be detrimental; creating unwanted noise that seems to echo throughout the basement and bounce off the surrounding walls. And they’re fifty yards away from freedom when it happens; an unmarked door tossed open, followed by cocky, smirking Winston stepping out into the hall.

“You really didn’t think you’d get away with this, did you? That I wouldn’t catch wind of your little plan? That someone wouldn’t give you away? Not very smart, are you.”

“Stay back,” Tyler warns. “Don’t come any closer. Don’t…”

“You came into my home, where you’re certainly not welcome, and proceeded to ignore every rule laid out in front of you. Not to mention disrespected not only me, The Continental itself, but all of those who seek and take refuge here. Just who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the one that’s getting Esme out of here. Away from you. Out from under your thumb. It’s over, Winston. She’s not yours to protect. She never was.”

“You seem to forget that if it weren’t for me, she’d be long dead. And so would your child. In fact, that little one would have never even been born. She exists BECAUSE of me. Because I opened my doors to her mother. Because I gave her a safe haven. Which is something you couldn’t do. Something you’ll NEVER be able to do.”

“I’m going to need you to take a couple of steps back. ‘Cause if you come any closer to her…”

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, Mister Rake, you don’t intimidate me. Not in the slightest. I’m not threatened by you, nor am I scared of you. And I certainly don’t respect you.”

“Never thought I’d say this, but we actually have something in common. Because I feel the exact same way about you.”

“You are under MY roof. This is my home. My KINGDOM. Mine and mine alone. I certainly didn’t want you here; your type is never welcome at The Continental. And believe me, I did everything in my power to prevent you from even stepping foot in this city, never mind this establishment. But even I have my limits. My weaknesses. I admit that I DID succumb to her…how should I put this…feminine wiles.”

Esme hurries out from her ‘safe place’; managing half a step before finding herself blocked by his much larger, heavier body. “And what the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?

“Get back,” Tyler orders, using a forearm to once more tuck her behind him. “Don’t engage. Don’t even look at him. Just stay right there and keep quiet.”

“You know exactly what that means,” Winston informs her. “You have an uncanny ability; the gift of being able to manipulate people into doing exactly what you want. A well-placed smile or pout. Those big, dark eyes. That ‘damsel in distress’ air that you so easily adopt. Even those well versed in your true self fall for it; strong, noble men that never crack under pressure, never break a sweat under even the most dire of circumstances. You act shy and coy and sweet and…”

“That’s not true. I’ve never acted like that. Not with you. Not with ANYONE.”

“You’ve made a living…and a very lucrative one at that… doing those very things. Isn’t that why you’re here in the first place? Why you needed my help? My protection? For years you’ve conned the very best; talked and flirted and lied and…if I may be so bold…even whored…”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Tyler snarls. “Don’t you EVER…”

“... your way into their good graces. Their lives. Their BEDS. How long have you gotten away with it? How many men HAVE you fooled? How many have fallen in love with you, only to have their entire world crumble underneath them?”

“Those were jobs,” Esme argues. “Nothing more. Nothing less. That’s all they were. I never…”

“Never what? Meant to take things that far? Use them in ways that go far beyond your job description? You can’t tell me that Alessio was the first that you devoted so much time and energy to. Eight months. Nearly three-quarters of a year. You became part of his family and even accepted his proposal. You allowed him to raise your daughter, you…”

“He treated Millie like complete and utter shit! Like she was subhuman. He wanted to send her away! To boarding school! A four-year-old! A baby! He…”

“And just who enabled his behaviour? Who allowed him to be around the child? Who was so desperate to have a father in their daughter’s life that…”

“You fucking asshole!” Esme lunges forward; immediately finding herself snagged by the hood on her jacket and aggressively yanked backwards.

“Stop!” Tyler orders. “Just stop. This is what he wants. He wants us to react. Lash out. Do something stupid. So just get behind me and stay there. And don’t say another goddamn word!”

“That’s Millie he’s talking about! My daughter! OUR daughter! She’s just a little girl. A baby. She…”

“He’s using her to get to you. To get to US. Now just get behind me and stay there. And keep quiet. Got it?”

“But…”

“Got it?”

She tearfully nods, then obediently tucks herself behind him.

“You are noble.” Winston addresses Tyler. “I will give you that. Perhaps not the most intelligent, but…”

“I’m only going to tell you once. Get out of the way.”

“So gallant. So eager to protect And so damn devoted. To a fault, even. Do you not see what she’s doing to you? The pattern? Isn’t this how it all began? You protecting her? SAVING her?”

“Winston, back away. Before…”

“Before what?” The older man chuckles. “Before NOTHING. Are you that oblivious? To how you’re being played? Not just once, but TWICE?”

“I’m not taking the bait. I know what you want from me. You want me to snap. You want to be able to paint me as unstable. Unhinged. An unnecessary threat. You want to be able to tell everyone that you acted in self-defence. That I had no reason to act the way I did. You want to be able to kill me; break all the High Tables rules. And then get away with it by making up some bullshit on how it was justified.”

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are more intelligent than I give you credit for.”

“It’s not going to work, Winston. No matter what you say or do. I’ve had much worse said to me. DONE to me. By WAY better.”

“She’s using you, Mister Rake. Just like she used you in Dhaka. She has no morals. She doesn’t care who she hurts. She brings men like you…like US…to our knees. She…”

“You and I? We are nothing alike.”

“We are EXACTLY alike. As much as it pains me to admit it. She’s conned us both. Used us. Manipulated us. Only with you, she got away with it TWICE.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You know nothing; about Esme and I and what went down between us and Dhaka.”

“Word travels fast in the circle. You should know that by now. You should also know that you’re the laughing stock. Everyone talks about it. About YOU. You may be a hero. You may be a legend. But you’re also a damn fool.”

“I’m only going to tell you once more, Winston. Get out of my way. You either move on your own, or I do it for you. And you don’t want that, believe me.”

“I’ll tell you something else. What happened two days ago? In your room? It’s the last time I hire an outsider. To get a job done. It was simple; I told them who the target was and exactly where to find him. Yet here you are. Standing in front of me. Still breathing. You’re a hard one to kill, Mister Rake.”

“I fucking knew it. As soon as it happened. I knew you were behind it. Why? Of all places to try and take me out, why there? With Millie in the room? She’s a baby. MY baby. Why…?”

“Unfortunately, when it comes to war, there’s always collateral damage.”

The rage is overwhelming. All consuming. And in one quick movement, he drives the butt end of his rifle into the side of Winston’s face; the older man roaring in both surprise and pain as he drops into a bloody heap. Blood thunders in his ears as he tosses the weapon aside and then stalks towards his prey; placing a knee in the middle of the other man’s chest as he changes his method of attack. Restoring to using his fists; raining punches down on Winston’s already battered head and face. Oblivious to Esme's initial orders and then her desperate pleas for him to stop; ignoring her as she attempts -in vain- to pull him away. Unable to control either strength or aggression, he pushes her away; causing her to lose her balance and fall heavily onto her rear in the middle of the dirty floor.

“Tyler! No!” As he reaches for his rifle, she scrambles to her knees and then her feet; rushing towards him in a frantic attempt to yank the weapon from his hands. Both arms wrapping around one of his as he places the muzzle against Winston’s forehead, finger poised on the trigger. “Tyler! Stop! Please don’t do this! Don’t…!”

“Just step away, Esme. That’s all you gotta do. Just step away.”

“Please don’t,” she tearfully pleads. “You don’t want to do this. It’s not worth it. HE’S not worth it.”

“You heard what he said. It WAS him. That tried to kill me. Millie was right there. She was in the room. That sniper aimed right at her.”

“Tyler, this isn’t what Millie would want. You kept her safe, yeah? You made sure nothing happened to her. You SAVED her. She’s alive because of you. And she’s waiting for us. She’s waiting for YOU. Her dad. She needs you, okay? She’s always needed you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t make that happen. That I kept her from you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for it to get this far.”

“You have nothing to do with this. With HIM. So just step away and…”

“You and Millie just found each other. After all this time. You get to be a father again. And she finally gets her dad. The one she’s been asking about. Don’t rob her of that, okay? Don’t rob her of you. I already did. Don’t you do it to her, too.”

“Esme��”

“I can’t let you do that to her. I just can’t.”

“He deserves it. For him to have his head fucking blown off..”

“Maybe he does. But I don’t want you to be the one who does it. We are so close. To having everything we ever wanted. Please don’t throw that away. Please don’t throw ME away.”

Initially pressing the muzzle harder against Winston’s head, he finally relents, index finger slipping off the trigger as he backs away. And while Winston stumbles to his feet, Tyler once more takes hold of Esme’s hand and guides her behind him.

The older man smirks; using his tie and the sleeve of his suit jacket to clear the blood and sweat from his face. “You realize you just signed your death warrant. Both of yours, for that matter. You drew blood on Continental grounds. That’s rule one: no business is to be conducted on company property.”

“Just let us go, Winston,” Esme attempts to reason with him, struggling to remain calm despite the hammering in both chest and head. “It doesn’t have to go any further than this. It doesn’t have to escalate. Just let us go.”

“You know that can’t happen. It WON’T happen. I was never going to let either of you escape. The child, yes. She has many people who love her. Who will gladly step up and take care of her in your absence.”

“You’re going to kill both of us? Is that it? That was always your plan?”

“I’m not going to kill you. Why would I waste such a wonderful, beautiful asset? I’m not a stupid man, Esme. Don’t treat me as such.”

“When I told you I was hiring Tyler, and you agreed to let him into The Continental, you told me you’d let us go. That we’d be free to just walk out of here. You PROMISED me.”

“Well, you see, my love, like you, I too have to lie from time to time. To get my way.”

“You’re fucking crazy. Why would I ever stay here with you? Why would I want to? Especially after all of this. You think I’d just forgive you? For everything you’ve done? For keeping my daughter from me? For killing Tyler? You think I’d just learn to be okay with all of that?”

“I can have your daughter brought back. At any time. All you have to do is ask nicely and…”

“And do as I’m told? Is that what you were going to say? All I would have to do is be a quiet, obedient, submissive little thing, is that it? Play along? Be a trophy for you; someone you could parade around? Show off? Feed your ego? Cure your limp dick? Is THAT what you were going to say?”

“You are a feisty one. Always have been. I can give you a life. A very good one at that. You’ll never want for nothing. There’s nothing I can’t give you. Why won’t you let me do that? Give you the world? Why…?”

“I would rather put a bullet in my fucking brain than spend another minute here with you.”

“You’ll learn to love it. Life here. Where you’re safe.”

“I’m not staying here. So you’re going to have to kill me, too. Because I’ll do it myself. I’ll find a way. I will NOT be some toy for you.”

“But you’ll be one for him? Some ‘no one’. You’ll accept a life with THAT? Over one with me?”

Esme remains defiant. “I’d rather be his whore than your wife.”

“You really would choose him? An alcoholic, drug-addicted mercenary who abandoned his dying child?”

“Don’t talk about him like that.” Her hand disappears underneath the hem of her jacket; fingertips brushing against the handle of the Glock. “Don’t EVER talk about him like that. Don’t even say his name.”

“I don’t know who is more blind. Him or you. He can’t see what you’re doing to him, and you can’t see him for who he truly is. A nobody. No more than some two-bit thug who…”

“Winston, I am warning you. DON’T talk about him like that.”

“You’re more foolish than he is. You realize that, don’t you? The fact you would turn down a life with me for a pathetic, miserable existence with him? He doesn’t deserve you. Don’t you see that? He’ll never change. This is who he will always be. He’ll never give this up. This life. Not for you, not for your daughter. You can’t change him. You can’t save him. No matter how desperately you want to.”

Slipping the gun from its holster, she removes it from under her coat before either man has a chance to stop her.

Winston gives a mocking chuckle.. “And what are you going to do with that, little one? What…?”

“It’s not what I’m going to do. It’s what YOU’RE going to do.”

“And that would be?”

“You’re going to let us out of here. You’re going to keep your promise. Or I will put a bullet in your fucking skull.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Like I told Alessio earlier. I don’t bluff.”

Behind her, the doors to the kitchen swing open, and she quickly pivots; training the gun on the figure that strides into the hallway.

“Miss Drummond,” Both Charon’s voice and eyes are soft. Reassuring. Kind. And he holds his hands up in a plea for peace, signifying to both Esme and Tyler that he poses no threat. “If you would be so inclined as to hand me your weapon.”

“I can’t. Not unless he lets us go. He’s going to kill Tyler. And keep me here. Away from Millie. He’s…”

“He’s going to do no such thing,” Charon assures her and slowly reaches for the weapon; giving a calm, gentle smile as he gingerly plucks it from her hand. “You’re safe. You’re BOTH safe. No ill is going to come to either of you.”

“But he said…”

“What he said doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to happen to you. Either of you. You’re going to walk out of here. Together. And you’re going to be reunited with your little girl. Very soon.”

“It was him, you know. That hired that sniper. To kill Tyler. He didn’t care that Millie was there. She could have been killed, too. And he didn’t even give a shit. That’s my little girl. My baby. And he didn’t even care.”

“I know. Of his involvement. The news of such I didn’t learn until this morning. But she is safe now. She’s away from here. This place. This life. And if you want to see her again…”

“It’ll never happen,” Winston interjects. “My people are already on their way. They’ll be here in minutes. So I suggest…” He glances at Esme, then at Tyler. “...that if you have anything to say to each other, you do it now. Or you won’t get the chance.”

“There is NO ONE coming,” Charon informs him. “There is no cavalry.”

“I called them myself.”

“As did I. After you hung up. It’s been called off. And they’re free to go.”

“You can’t make that decision. You…”

“No. But The High Table can. You’re not the only one with friends in power, sir.”

“You’re lying. You’re…”

“I NEVER lie. You should be expecting a visit from The Adjudicator. The High Table was very concerned that you hired someone to do business on Continental grounds. Not even you are above the rules.”

“First Jonathan, now you? Charon, how could you? Betray me like this? After everything we’ve been through. The years we’ve spent together. The battles we faced. All the things I’ve done for you. And THIS is how you repay me? This…”

“THIS is the right thing to do. Now…” He regards Esme over the top rim of his glasses, then holds out the Glock. “...you can be trusted with this? Rule number one…”

“I can be trusted.”

“Good. Now I suggest you leave. The way you have planned. I will meet up with you. At the airport.”

“You’re coming with us? Why? Why are you…?”

“I’m merely tagging along. To make sure you get to your destination. Safely. But if something does happen in the meantime…” Cradling her face in his palms, Charo presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. “...it has been a pleasure, Miss Drummond.”

As tears well in her eyes, she stands on her tiptoes and embraces him tightly. “Thank you. Not just for this. For EVERYTHING”

“I have very much enjoyed your company. And your friendship.”

Shouldering his rifle, Tyler plucks the Glock from Esme’s hand and slips it into the waistband of his pants, then wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her tight against him. He gives Charon an appreciative nod. “Thank you.”

“We will see each other soon, Mister Rake.”

“I hope so.” He begins leading a trembling and terrified Esme away. “I really fucking hope so.”

******

As an armoured SUV waits for them outside the shipping and receiving, Tyler��s eyes quickly scan the immediate buildings for any sign of trouble; any figures lurking in open windows or within the shallow recesses of doors. And when he’s certain it’s safe, he jumps off the platform and then turns to assist Esme. His arms outstretched and waiting for her to make her move; easily and effortlessly catching her and then placing her on the ground. Holding her securely by the wrist as he pulls her in the direction of the vehicle; opening the door with one hand, the other shielding the top of her head from coming in contact with the frame. And he waits until she buckles herself in before shutting the door and hurrying for the driver’s side; slipping behind the wheel and throwing down the overhead visor, allowing the keys to fall into his lap.

“Well…” He guns the ignition. “...that went to shit.”

Esme attempts an apology. And an explanation. “I’m sorry. He just knew exactly what buttons to push. First talking about Millie, then about you. I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t hear another word. He just kept going and going, and I just snapped and…”

“What did I tell you? About listening to me? About never second-guessing a goddamn thing?”

“I just couldn’t listen to it. As if admitting to being the one to hire the sniper wasn’t enough…”

“Esme, I told you to stay quiet. To not engage with him. And I didn’t tell you just once. I told you multiple times. To just shut up and get behind me and let me do my job. Why don’t you listen to me? Why can’t you just do what you’re told? Why…?”

“He just got to me. It was just too much. I can usually handle what people say about me. And I don’t really care that he called me a whore and…:

“I sure as hell fucking cared.”

“...and accused me of being a liar and manipulator. Because I WAS those things. When it came to the job. I DID do those things. I did lie, and I did manipulate people.”

“It was always a means to an end. You did what you had to do. It was work. That’s it.”

“He said the exact same things Gaspar did. About me. About US. About how I used you to get out of Dhaka. And that’s not true. I didn’t lie to you, and I didn’t manipulate you. And I didn’t use you.”

“I know that. I…”

“Everything that happened between us, everything we said to each other, everything we planned? It was all real. Every second, every word. None of that was fake. And for TWO people to insist on it?”

“If I didn’t believe it then, what the hell makes you think I’m going to believe it now? I don’t give a fuck what Gaspar said. And I sure as hell don’t give a shit about anything that came out of Winston’s mouth. I was there too, Esme. In Dhaka. In that hotel room. And it all felt real. It never felt anything BUT real.”

“I just wanted to make sure, that’s all. That you know that none of what Winston said is true and that….”

“Esme, I KNOW. I’ve ALWAYS known.”

“And then when he started in on Millie and then you…”

“Listen, as much as I would love to be able to just sit here and unpack all of this with you and assure you that everything is okay…that WE’RE okay…I can’t do it. Maybe later, but not right now. I need to get us the fuck out of here. Away from this place and out of this city. Out of this COUNTRY. So I’m going to need you to let this shit go. For now. Okay?”

She nods.

“I also need you to toe the fucking line. Because back there? With Winston? That almost ended very badly. And I don’t want to have to deal with something like that again. So, please…I am begging you…listen to me. Do as I say. Got it?”

Tears well in her eyes as both chin and lower lip tremble. “Got it.”

“And please don’t do that. Cry. Because I can’t deal with that right now. I can’t be who you need me to be when you’re this upset and close to freaking out. You hired me to do a job, yeah?”

She nods.

“Then let me do it. Or we are NOT going to get out here. Cooperate. Please.”

“I will. I just…”

“No more. No more talking about this. Just sit there and be quiet and…” His words trail off as his SAT phone vibrates within the confines of the inner pocket of his jacket. And he mutters a ‘fuck me’ as he pulls it out and jams an index finger into the ‘talk’ icon.“What?!”

“Where the hell are you?” Nik inquires. “We’ve been waiting here. At the rendezvous site. Where…?”

“I got a little held up.”

“A little?”

“We’re on our way now. Be there shortly.”

“You’re fifteen minutes past the deadline. Of when the security systems came back on line. Why haven’t you been answering me? On your radio? Did something happen to it or…?”

“I turned it off. In the basement.”

“Tyler…”

“Look, we had an issue, alright?”

“What kind of issue?”

“One I don’t have time to explain. I’m trying to fucking drive!”

“Do I need to remind you who's in charge? Who your boss is? Who gives you orders and signs your paycheck? Do I..?”

“Fuck off, Nik!” He barks, then hangs up and tosses the phone onto the dashboard; unleashing a host of profanities when it bounces off and falls to the floor at Esme’s feet.

Chewing anxiously on her bottom lip, she glances over at him, then down at the cell. And she strains against her seat belt as she leans over to pick it up; placing it in the hands-free holder clipped to the dashboard.

For several minutes, they remain in silence as they make their escape; grateful for the clear and easy path created by the slew of emergency vehicles provided by Wick’s men. To the untrained eye, the FDNY badges and logos seem legit; boldly plastered on the handful of engines and SUVs that not only keep the street directly in front of The Continental car and pedestrian free, but have succeeded in closing down all intersections within a three block radius in each direction.

The closer they get to their meet-up point, the more steady and confident his nerves become. With the confrontation with Winston now pushed onto the back burner, it makes room for cautious optimism; allowing himself to think of not only being reunited with Millie, but of finally being able to start his life -as a partner, soon-to-be husband, and a father- in his homeland. He’s anxious to share the things he loves with his little girl; already dreaming of teaching her to surf and taking her camping and fishing and dirt bike riding. Witnessing as she thrives and grows and gets accustomed to life ‘down under’; making friends and falling in love with the people and the wildlife and taking on an accent.

It’s those thoughts that release the last of the tension in his shoulders and jaw, feeling remarkably lighter as he glances over at Esme; watching as she nervously chews on the inside of her cheek and fidgets with the ties on either side of her hat. He regrets how harsh he’d been with her; the aggression he displayed, and the way he’d barked at her and ordered her around. Lowering himself to reprimanding her as if she were nothing more than a petulant child.

Dropping one of his hands from the steering wheel, he gently sweeps dirt and debris off the thighs of her jeans. “You’re not hurt are you?”

She glances over; a quizzical frown knitting her brows together.

“I didn’t mean to push you as hard as I did. I just meant to get you out of the way. I didn’t…”

“It wasn’t THAT hard. You didn’t hurt me. I just lost my balance. I…”

“That was a pretty hard fall. I didn’t…”

“Tyler…” She grabs a hold of his hand before he can remove it from her leg; managing a smile as she tightly squeezes. “...I’m fine. Honest. Remember when I talked about being thicker too?”

“Oh fuck, not this again…”

“Most of that thickness is in my ass. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, it’s just made your ass even better. And it was pretty awesome before, so…”

“And you excuse me of unprofessional talk?” she teases. “Aren’t you supposed to be the mature and sensible one in this situation?”

“Fuck mature and sensible. You talking about your ass being thicker? All I can think about is that saying. About ‘more cushion for the pushin’.”

“You are nothing if not predictable,” she chides and releases his hand. “I KNEW as soon as I mentioned my ass, your mind would go there. Right into the gutter.”

“I was a total prick back there. I didn’t…”

“You weren’t. You…”

“No. I was. I shouldn’t have talked to you like I did. You didn’t deserve that. You…”

“You had every right to. I haven’t exactly been the most cooperative client, have I?”

“You’ve been a challenge. I thought maybe the last five years might have calmed you down; gotten you over that whole ‘I listen to no man’ stage.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I tend to listen to you more than other men.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That’s not saying much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. That I just didn’t shut up and do what I was told. I didn’t exactly follow my own advice, did I? About not letting Winston get under our skin.”

“No, you did not.”

“Like I said, I don’t really care what people say about me. I’ve been called way worse by way better. But when he brought up Millie and then started threatening you and talking all kinds shit about you…”

“I’m a big boy, Esme. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You DO need me. In more ways than you’ve ever been willing to admit. I may not be able to protect you the same way you do with me, but I can still have your back. Defend you. Take care of you.”

“And I’m still going to tell you that you don’t need to.”

“We’re going to have to come to some sort of impasse, Tae. Because…” She pauses when she sees the slow, almost boyish grin that spreads across his face. “...what? What’s that little smile for?”

“Nothing. I just haven’t heard you call me that in a long time. I missed it.”

Smiling, she reaches out and rubs his thigh, then squeezes his knee. “I missed saying it.”

“You gotta promise me that you’ll try and rein it in. How much you worry about me. Want to take care of me.”

“You know that’s impossible. It’s just who I am. Who I’ve ALWAYS been. When it comes to you. I’ve always cared too much and worried too much. That’s not going to change, you know. So I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree. About whether or not you need to be protected or not.”

“As long as you promise you won’t go too Mother Hen on me. You know I can’t handle it when you start that babying shit.”

“You are so full of it. You like it when I baby you. I mean, who else is going to put up with you when you’ve got the man flu? You’d probably drive other women completely crazy. They wouldn’t know how to handle you. You’d break them for sure.”

“Well, your sister always was amazed about how I managed to never break YOU in half.”

“I’m made of tough stuff, I guess. Momma didn’t raise a quitter. Or a coward." Yanking off her beanie, she smoothes down her hair and fixes her ponytail. “Did you know? About Charon? That he was part of all this?”

“All I knew was that Nik had someone on the inside. Who got her the blueprints of the hotel, security codes, and all kinds of info. I never would have thought it would be him, though.”

“What do you think made him turn? Against Winston?”

“You heard him; he said it was just the right thing to do. What happened the other day probably pushed him over the edge; the sniper even going after Millie.”

“You never told me that. That they intentionally targeted her.”

“I didn’t see a need to. There was no reason to upset you more than you already were.”

“That must have been terrifying. It’s one thing for people to come after you; you’re used to it. But for them to go after her?”

“I handled it. I did what I had to do. To keep her from getting hurt. But if I ever find exactly WHO pulled that trigger…”

“I give you full permission to shoot them in the head. After you torture them. Slowly and extremely painfully. Do you think he’s going to be okay? Charon? Winston isn’t going to take this lying down; he’s going to view it as a massive betrayal.”

“Winston isn’t dumb enough to try anything. Charon’s got The High Table on his side. Which means, in some weird, fucked up way, they’re on our side too.”

“Better than having to worry about them coming after us. Let’s just hope we never have to call in any favours. Rely on them for anything. Because if I ever have to resort to THAT…”

It happens quickly. Leaving no time to time to react or prepare for impact. The roar of an engine, the glare of headlights cutting through the thin veil of fog, the screeching of brakes. Safety and security suddenly and brutally ripped away; bodies violently jostled within the confines of the SUV as horns blare, glass shatters, and metal crunches and crumbles.

And then, silence.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

From David Sedaris via Bari Weiss and Free Press.

>>>>>

The New York apartment building Hugh and I live in isn’t terribly big. I wanted a nice view, so we’re on a high floor, the drawback being that we need to rely on the elevator—not for going down so much, but only my friend Dawn would carry a load of groceries up twenty flights of stairs. The building has doormen, so between me and the street there is definitely one, but more often, two or three occasions for small talk. Nobody likes this kind of thing. That said, there’s a definite art to it.

Not long after we moved in, I was heading to the lobby, and a neighbor I would later get to know as Tommy boarded the elevator one floor below mine. He nodded at me, and as the doors closed I raised a finger. “May I ask you a question?”

“Not if it’s about how much to tip the doormen at Christmas,” he said.

That was exactly what I was going to ask. Quick, I thought, think of a replacement. “Can you recommend a cobbler?” I asked.

Now it is five years later. I’m on my way to the lobby and when a woman boards at 14, I ask, “How long have you known your dentist?”

She thinks for a moment. “Fifteen years. Why?”

“Just curious,” I say. “I knew my old one for almost that long but then we moved to New York and I had to start over.”

“And where did you move here from?” she asks. And then we’re off, pleasantly conversing until we part ways on the ground floor.

How long have you known your dentist is such a good icebreaking question, a real keeper in my opinion. I didn’t make it up, it’s not mine, rather I found it on Duolingo, an app my friend Dave turned me on to. He’d been using it to learn Spanish. Me, I started with Japanese. It offers over forty languages, free with ads, and free of them for a pretty nominal charge.

Each program features the same cast of animated characters: the excitable little boy, the bored teenage girl with hair covering her face. There’s an athletic-looking blond fellow, Vikram, who wears a turban, and Bea, who, according to her profile, is of West African heritage: eleven in all, including a talking bear named Falstaff. Sometimes Duolingo will give me a sentence in English: “How many desks are in the room?” and I have to translate it into Japanese choosing from the menu of words written in hiragana at the bottom of the screen. Other times I have to read a sentence out loud and the characters will either accept or reject me, based upon my pronunciation. My least favorite is when they give me the sentence and I have to write it in whichever language I’m studying. If you’ve only ever learned English you maybe don’t know that in other countries, “I gave her the suitcase,” might go, “I gave to her the suitcase,” or “I had to her the suitcase gave.” You have to grasp a new word order. Then there’s the spelling to worry about.

My friend Mike is learning Yiddish with Duolingo and one of the sentences it taught him is: “My uncle is a broken man.” I used its French program to freshen up before a trip to Paris not long ago, and was both surprised and not by the question, “What is he doing in our bed?”

I’m a dilettante, and always have been. Rather than really buckling down and mastering anything, I flit from one language to the next. Thus I noted how different Duolingo’s Japanese was from Duolingo’s German version. In the latter, the characters have definite opinions. “Your apartment is dark and ugly.” “I don’t like your sweater.”

They give the impression that German people are direct and judgmental, but also outdoorsy, generous, and sure of themselves. Thus such sentences as, “I’m sorry, but your doctor is playing volleyball today,” “I am giving one hundred toilets to my father,” and “Spain needs us.” There’s a lot of talk about witches, but no mention of them dating one another, this as opposed to Duolingo’s Japanese program where seemingly everyone is gay. “Is that your grandmother’s new girlfriend?” is one of the questions I was taught. Suddenly the guy with the headband on had a husband as well as a son. Even the bear was dating another guy.

I often complained about the last Japanese learning program I used, Pimsleur. So much of the talk was, as it is on their German and Polish and Romanian courses, about drinking. “Do you want a beer? Wine? Sake? Whisky? How many bottles? Should we drink at your place or mine? What time should we start drinking? Do you know what Tenaka-san drinks? Does his wife drink too? Have you ever had drinks with his parents?”

Pimsleur taught me a lot of practical things though, like how to make reservations and buy train tickets. “Which track do I leave on? At what time do we arrive? Is it an express train or a super express train?”

When it comes to icebreaker questions though, the type one might ask in an elevator, both Pimsleur and Duolingo pale compared to Teach Yourself Japanese, a book a woman in England sent me a few pages of. It was what her dad used back in the ’50s, and it includes the phrases: “What will become of us if father dies? Grandmother has turned blind. The man with small hands is my friend. I no longer take any pleasure in my work. Shall I kill myself tomorrow?” and “It is only the third bottle from the left which has poison in it.”

What age, I wonder, are these students? If you no longer take pleasure in your work I’m guessing you’ve been at it for a while, yet your grandmother is still alive, and newly blind? And just how small are the friend’s hands? I’m thinking of someone with the equivalent of raccoon paws, trying to open a bottle of pills he can kill himself with.

Depressing phrases or practical ones, you’ll never become fluent through an app or a book, no matter how many hours you devote to it. You have to talk to actual people. My friend Scott has tutors in both Japanese and French and is miles ahead of me in terms of conversing and understanding. He does his lessons once a week on Zoom. I suppose I could do the same, but I’m afraid I won’t like the tutor, and won’t know how to put an end to our relationship. It’s the same reason I don’t see a psychiatrist or hire a trainer.

Most of the doormen in my building are from Ecuador and one, Adrian, has, at my request, started speaking to me exclusively in Spanish. I took it in high school, so we didn’t have to start from scratch. The problem is that, because he essentially works for me, he’s not going to be as strict as, say, the French teacher I had in Paris. Not that I’m not progressing. Recently I learned that Adrian calls his mother Gordita, which means little fatty. It’s a nice bit of information to start your day with, though it leaves me wondering, and phrasing the question to myself in Japanese, French, German, and now, tentatively, in Spanish, “What does he call me?”

Image: Nobody likes small talk. Yet it is an art worth mastering. (Photo by Anthony Rizzuto/Anthony Angel Collection/PhotoQuest/Getty Images)

[A link to David Sedaris reading his essay below]

[antimnemonic]

alright hhhhh im just posting this to vent feel free to offer input but don't feel obligated to care

I've had some bullshit trouble finding a place to live starting june. bad locations messy ppl im not paying 1k a month to be stuck a year in a 3 room apartment with a half dozen animals out in the sticks

i found something slightly below my standards and under budget and only for two months! perfect, resets the clock

unfortunately. 3rd floor. no elevator. it's been 3773473 degrees everyday for like a month now, i have a bad leg, not particularly a lot of energy, im gonna have to do this again two months from now--

also my moving window is very small 😬

I've already resolved to not bother with decorating or fully unpacking since we plan to have a new apt by the end of july

im considering then, honeshtly, to just chuck my stuff in a storage unit for two months. I would have more time, it would be easier than going up and down three stairs in egg frying weather, i probably wouldn't injure myself-- and so i would only take my work clothes summer outfits and devices

but also like. ok im not like MORALLY OPPOSED to storage units but they're so materialistic..... im paying to just put my stuff somewhere, it's absurd to just think about. I feel like i rarely use most of this junk but idk how to go about in getting rid of it. i miss when I was freshly independent and on-and-off homeless and all my stuff fit in the back seat of a friend's car

[tauforged]

I understand health can be personal, so feel free to disregard this ask if you'd rather not talk about it publicly. But asking as one person with bad knees to another, and as one person working in an aquarium/zoo to another: do your knees often give you trouble in your line of work? Do you do anything special to take care of them and the rest of your body between shifts? I do a few different things at our facility but working with the aquarists is always what ends up having the most potential to hurt my knees/other joints. (I have RA, for context)

it can depend, honestly. the things that give me the most trouble are going up and down stairs (my department has its office and lab on the fourth floor, and we collect samples from the basement pump room daily, so days where the elevator is out of operation or too busy can be real tough) and kneeling down. usually i don’t have to kneel down for more than a minute or two while filling sample bottles or adding buffer to a system, but the feed yesterday was an exception as i was entirely at the whims of the turtle and she was taking her sweet time eating, so i was out there for a good half hour or so. the best i could do was stop every now and then to adjust how i was sitting, but if i get the opportunity to help with a feed again i’ll probably elect to feed from a different position on the dive platform and sit on one of the steps so my legs don’t cramp up as bad.

im lucky in that i usually do lab work, so i spend a lot of time standing/walking which is a lot easier on my joints than sitting or kneeling, and when i do sit at my desk i’ve got plenty of opportunity to get up and stretch whenever i can feel anything starting to lock up on me. i also sometimes bypass the employee stairwell and go up to the office via the main exhibit area, which is almost entirely gradual sloping ramps as opposed to the steep and tight spiral staircase — it’s less efficient, and can be a pain if we’re busy, especially since the fourth floor itself is inaccessible via ramp (our floorplan is a little fucky wucky) so im hitting the stairs either way, but one flight is much more manageable than five LMAO

thankfully for me, the position i work isn’t as labor intensive as stuff i’ve done previously (im never touching retail again as long as i live — stocking heavy ass bags of dog food and aquarium gravel used to knock me OUT) and what little heavy lifting / climbing around that i am doing is few and far between — but i’d imagine that’s different depending on what you do. someone who spends a lot of time physically in the exhibits and climbing up and down off the rocks in the penguin area to scrub it down will probably be faring a lot worse than a lab tech. honestly what’s been getting me the most lately has been my hands 😖 i love data entry and playing with spreadsheets but my wrists and fingers do NOT

[mega-aulover]

Santa Baby...

This week a little M-rated FLUFFY sweetness for Everlark Christmas. Katniss one-ups Peeta once more in the Gift giving department.

It was their 10th wedding anniversary. And Peeta was rushing to get to their fifth-floor walkup. He was late as he rushed, navigating through the bustling shoppers. The faint Christmas music could be heard coming from the holiday-themed storefront windows. Peeta tried to leave early, but the bakery was packed tonight as Christmas was a few days away.

Peeta couldn't wait to get home to be with his wife and little girl Melody. He couldn't believe ten years of marriage had passed by. Ten years ago he was eighteen and in disbelief that he was marrying the girl of his dreams. They got married at Christmas because Greasy Sae decorated her small restaurant and they didn't have to spend money on decorating a venue. It was a small home-spun wedding, but it was filled with light, warmth, and love.

Ten years later and Peeta still had to pinch himself.

This year Katniss claimed she didn't want any hoopla. She told him she was going to make him a simple homemade dinner. Peeta wanted to do something grander, but Katniss said to save it for their twenty-fifth anniversary.

Peeta found it funny, Katniss wanted to do something small, because his wife, was the ultimate gift-giver.

Peeta could never beat Katniss when it came to their anniversary gifts. For their first anniversary, she gave him a piece of paper with the lease of his Bakery. On their 2nd anniversary, she'd gotten his mother to work in the Bakery. His mother who was opposed to their entire marriage showed up at the baker with the cotton tee shirt with Peeta's Baked Goods emblem. Each year Katniss always topped his gift making their anniversary memorable.

He was rather relieved that he was coming home to a home-cooked meal and to his daughter. He loved his family life. Loved his life with Katniss. Walking away from his wealthy upbringing when he was a teen, and choosing to be with Katniss, led to an exquisite life.

It wasn't easy because, they barely scraped by, but they were happy.

Peeta held his small gift bag tighter as he rushed down the stairs to catch the subway. According to legend, they were supposed to exchange tin. Peeta had gotten a shiny tin ornament for their tree at home. It was inscribed with their wedding date and the words "Happy Tin-th Anniversary."

Peeta checked his watch as he gripped the strap hand on the subway. There was a crush of people inside the train. As much as he loved the holidays, he loathed the mob of people fraught with high levels of anxiety over getting the perfect gift.

There were two types of Christmas shoppers. Those who purchased throughout the year, and those who waited until the holidays to shop. Peeta and Katniss were the people who purchased their gifts ahead of time, they saved money and it afforded them the ability to really enjoy the holidays.

Getting to his stop he sped up the stairs, out of the subway, and made the right. He briskly strolled to the apartment building. Using the key he opened the front door and stepped into the slightly warmer interior of the 7-floor building.

The lobby was empty as Peeta pressed the button for the elevator. He could have walked up the stairs but tonight, Peeta couldn't wait to get home.

He recalled his fifth anniversary when Katniss told him she was expecting their daughter Melody. It was the greatest present because he always wanted to be a father. Ever since then, Peeta had never been able to top that gift. He and his daughter were thick as thieves.

Entering their modest apartment, he paused to put his keys inside the bowl on the consul table. Pictures of their small family were hung on the wall. Melody was the carbon copy of her mother but with his eyes. One of his favorite pictures of Melody was when she was two. She'd found an easter egg. Her joy over finding the egg radiated in her wide blue eyes. Her small little mouth was thrown open in a triumphant shout, and her bow sat askew on her head. Melody was the sweet song in their lives.

"Katniss," Peeta called as he hung up his coat on the coat tree. And took off his shoes at the door. "Melody!"

Peeta frowned. Normally his five-year-old would be barreling her way to him by this point in the evening, and Katniss would be just behind her watching them. Tonight the entry was quiet and when he walked into the living room the lights were low. The Christmas tree lights were on the only noise in the apartment was the instrumental holiday music.

"Katniss," he called out.

In front of him were their small dining area and the galley kitchen. The table was set up for two not three. There was a bucket of bubbly on the dining table and the most delicious smells were coming out of the kitchen.

Peeta was going to call out again when he saw a folded note on one of the armchairs.

"Sit Down," he read out loud. "Melody with grandparents."

As soon as he sat the music changed. "Ba-boom, Ba-boom..." Came the familiar soundtrack of Santa Baby sung by Eartha Kit.

Katniss sashayed out of the kitchen in sync with the music.

Peeta's mouth went dry. She wore a long faux-fur coat on, red heels. her dark glorious locks were done up in 1940s finger wave. Her lips were red and her grey eyes sparkled. Katniss was his version of Jessica Rabbit. Suddenly his pants became tighter as she stood before him, and the faux-fur coat she wore slipped to the side showing her creamy olive skin.

Katniss's siren voice enveloped him as she sang, "Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me."

She turned around and let the coat slip to show the slender column of her back. Peeta gripped the arms of the chair as he realized Katniss was naked under the coat.

As she sang, "Hurry down the chimney tonight," she held the coat tighter and wiggled her bottom at him.

Peeta swallowed, he loved her ass.

She turned around as the brass instruments played.

Peeta gasped at the way her eyes told molten silver. They turned that color when she was turned on. He sat at the edge of the chair wanting to reach out to her but she pouted and shook her head no. She began dancing, shimming showing off her toned lean leg.

As she sang to him, she flashed small slivers of skin. He was sweating, and he wondered if perhaps the thermostat in the apartment was broken.

"Katniss," he gasped, desperate to touch her.

Peeta didn't have to feel disappointed at the lack of contact for too long, because she sat astride him and sang. "Think of all the fun I've missed. Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed."

Katniss leaned forward and Peeta could feel her hot breath on his lips and his heart wanted to escape the confines of his chest. He actually wanted to haul her into the bedroom like a caveman. But at the same time, he didn't want to move, because she was gyrating on him giving him a lap dance. It was the sweetest torture.

She stood up and shimmied away from him and Peeta wiped his forehead and gripped his hair, as Katniss danced slowly, and sang. "Come and trim my Christmas tree..."

Peeta was panting as she walked around the chair and whispered in his ear, "Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing."

His leg was shaking as Katniss began walking away toward their bedroom, singing, "Hurry down the chimney tonight..."

Katniss stopped at the door winked at him, then called him forth with her finger, before her coat slipped off her body and she disappeared into the bedroom.

Peeta tore through the apartment and found Katniss lying in the middle of their bed in tiny red briefs with the words, "Define Naughty," written in silver.

Once again Katniss had out-gifted him. But once more Peeta was a gracious loser.

[cha0tician]

in falinesti you're basically stacked on top of each other if you're actually living in the branches. even hollowed out knotholes along the trunk get very crowded. there's halls sung straight through parts of the trunk so you can access your house. the rings can act like landmarks--there's one thats dark and has a squiggle in it, take a turn there. the magic used for construction, regulations on how far apart the levels had to be, and the tree itself keep it very stable even while it moves.

the other tree cities of valenwood, they can use sap for bridges and stairs and that's how you get the beautiful amber glow of silvenar. not so for falinesti! to ensure everything works correctly in a less than stationary city, and without having to have a chorus of experienced engineers on standby, most of the cities infrastructure is done physically. sure, you carve the streets with song just the once, and that's how you carve out homes, but the bridges from branch to branch? the pulley elevators cranked like a boatswain would? the movement will over time crack and snap even the thickest sap construction, each becomes a whole undertaking to replace. no, better to drop elevators with pulleys and use suspended bridges.

as i was saying. the branches are very crowded. the trunk, there's a lot of wood between you and the next floor. branches? not so much necessarily! you've built on top a branch, then there's two apartments below you, and a knothole in the trunk next door that goes straight through the other end of the tree with all kinds of sorts coming in and out. someone's residence is suspended from the branch above your market stall. bosmer traditionally have big families, but with such limited space, you can't expect to renovate for any unplanned additions, so you might send the oldest kids up and over a few branches.

for families that can't afford that, most end up following the city on the ground, or moving away from the city entirely. followers of the city have a hard life. other than lower class families, who usually make their livings in operating the pulleys and bridges, you'll find thrill seekers, hunters, and traveling merchants along falinesti's roots. many foreigners prefer to do business under the city's shade over being hoisted high into the air, so even though it's a bustling area with no permanent private structures, it's not uncommon for sensitive meetings to be held with naught but a tent to keep out curious ears.

all of valenwood operates based on the seasons, but nowhere more than falinesti, who must adapt to the tree shedding some of its leaves--thankfully not all, not in the climate!--and exposing certain sections to more of the weather conditions, a position that changes each year at random. not to mention if a new twig sprouts up right in the middle of your street the following spring!

the highest branches are reserved for those who serve arkay, and his temples, as that is where sky burials take place. bosmer are returned to the food chain by scavenging birds, insects, and rodents, their bodies tended to through decomposition by the priests. these branches are often bleached pale brown to white by the sun, which is fitting, given that white is the color it death to the bosmer, as opposed to the rich golden brown of life, the color of auriel and the spring suns return. these branches are of the few places you can dress in white without it being seen as an ill omen--white is also the color of hircine, and of animals he has selected to struggle constantly to survive, their pelts unnatural against the forest background.

[armpirate]

UNDER HIS SKIN || JJK || Ch. 9

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: They say there are two versions for every story, and it's important to hear both of them. Everybody is hearing your side of the story, but it's just fair to get to know his.

After breaking up with his girlfriend, the only thing he wanted was to have fun with no attachment. You wanted to get rid of your virginity, and he wanted to tick you off his list. What he didn't expect was getting so emotionally attached to you that he would regret the deal.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

She doesn't live in one of the best areas of New York, but it's not the worst one I've been in either. Although this building... It looks like it might fall down at any point.

The cracking sound of the door draws my attention back to Y/n, finding her fighting to open the door. Her left hand twists the key, while the right one keeps pulling from the door until it finally opens. That sudden move almost made her fall to her back -and I say almost because I hold her by her arm before she's able to stumble enough to fall.

When she's aware of my hold, she hawks and moves her arm away cautiously.

—You do this every time you go in? —I look at her surprised— Last week I thought you were just so mad and frustrated you fought with the first thing you found.

—It'd be easier if we could fix it. But most of us earn just enough to survive every month.

I understand what she is trying to say. I guess that, if they're living here, it is because they can't really afford a lot more than enough to survive. But it still doesn't take away the fact that living like this is a headache. What if one day that trick doesn't work out and she's just stuck outside?

Sooner or later, they'll have to repair that door. Either it'll be by choice or they'll be forced to do it.

—Lift or stairs?

—It depends —I put my hands in the pockets of my cargo pants.

—I live on the fourth floor.

After driving for more than four hours, only stopping to get some gast? Yeah... no.

With no need to say a word, I lift my hand and point to the closed metallic lift. And if the door problem was something to worry about, the elevator only makes me concerned for her safety and genuinely makes me ask myself if she actually dares to go up and down on this thing. Being able to see the wires in charge to move this box up and down the building, the flickering lights giving the best horror movie environment and the buttons that Y/n almost had to punch to get this thing to move? She shouldn't be living in these conditions.

—Welcome to my humble home —she informs me after opening her door.

The big contrast is mind-blowing.

Opposed to the unkempt building, her house is tidy and cozy. And that floral scent that welcomes me as soon as I step inside only makes it even better. Everything just sticks together. There's a lot of white, gray and pastel colors -which is something I'd have never related to her if I had had the chance to guess.

Somewhere across the room, I see a similar turntable I have at home, and it seems like she has a big collection by the big amount of vinyls displayed on the small shelf next to it.

—Oh —I point to the old turntable in the living room corner—, I have the same model.

Pathetic way to try to start a conversation with her right now. I'll give myself that.

—It was my grandma's —she shrugs—. I also have a collection of all the vinyls she bought —she points to that same shelving, that's as tall as the furniture where the turntable is lying on.

Pressing my lips together, and aware of the grimace expression I've made, I simply nod and keep looking around, trying to find something to talk about. Or more like trying to find something that could give me a hint about who she actually is.

—Do you want something to drink?

—I'm fine.

I walk around, looking at all the details and seeing some pictures displayed on the furniture near the entrance door. A more innocent and smiley Y/n appears in one of the pictures, next to an old woman.

—So, are you going to rate my house?

And there she goes. Peace lasted way too long.

—Will you still play the enigmatic and interesting role? —I turn to her— You were about to set some rules.

—About that...

It doesn't take me long to guess she didn't think about anything, and probably she was sure she'd be able to come up with something while I was here.

—You didn't think of anything —I finish and think of the most important rule—. Then let me start: let's stop bitching at each other. Let's move on from that.

Whatever happened between us, needs to stop. We're both grown ups to still be bickering and fighting because of a misunderstanding three weeks ago.

Time to let that shit go if we're doing this.

—Two: Limits —she continues—. I want to set the pace of whatever this will be.

Which makes total sense.

—Of course —I let my body fall on the couch—. Three: Communication. If you don't feel comfortable with something, or you think you aren't ready, I need you to tell me. I will stop and I will mold to you. Like... If you don't feel like talking with a dude, or do something in bed with me, it's fine. We are here for that, so no need to rush it.

She crosses her arms on her chest, keeping her eyes on me as I sit comfortably on her sofa, as if I had been here more times than I could count them.

—Four: We can't tell anyone —she points a finger at me, as if she were warning me—. Let's keep it between us and as low key as possible.

—They'll think it's weird we get on well out of nowhere.

—As if they'll care that much about it. I'm sure they have more things to think about rather than you and me, and our childish fights —she interrupts me—. Doubt they'll notice.

I tilt my head, accepting her proposal.

—Five: No jealousy.

She cackles at my idea, which makes me frown.

She's laughing now, but at some point it'll happen -and probably it'll be from her side. It's good to set some things straight before we get into business.

—Okay, fine. I'll try not to fall for you. And I'll try not to fight every girl that drools for you. Alright?

Rolling my eyes, I decide it's a good idea to write all of this down. So as I try to remember everything we settled for now, I typed them on the phone.

—We need to write down all of this —I justifies myself—. I'll send you a screenshot when we're done. Your number, by the way? —I look up to her, and huffing, she finally gives me her phone number—. Six: You can't go out with the same dude more than once.

She huffs again, and I'm seeing every intention to protest against it. But I stop her before she's able to.

—You need to hang out with different guys to be able to get all the skills you need.

—Or more like you won't be able to enjoy your part of the deal if I fall for someone.

Oh... she really thinks I haven't thought about that.

—Let me get there —I type the rule on my phone before I say it out loud, sitting carelessly and resting my back on the backrest—. Seven: You can't fuck anyone. At least not until I do it first.

That sassy smile slowly vanishes away when I speak up about my idea.

What did she expect? Me getting her ready to be with a random guy, just for them to get a reward of all my hard work? That's not fair.

—You're kidding, right?

I shake my head, playing with my fingers on my lap as I let my phone rest on my thigh.

—It's a transaction, that's what the deal is about —I continue—. This is your part of it.

—And what if I like someone and I want him to be the first time?

—That's exactly why the sixth rule exists —I smirk—. I want to be the owner of all your first times, Y/n. I'll be working for it, and build you up to be ready for it.

And being the first one to taste her and feel her, after the big challenge she's been, is the best reward I could think of right now.

Moving my phone to the side of the couch, I reach for her hand, guiding her to move closer to me so she ends up standing in between my thighs. Both of my hands bring her closer by pushing her from the backside of her thighs, something that cuts her breathing momentarily as I try to place her on top of me, straddling my lap. My hands move up, until they both cup her hips over her gym pants.

—If I can't fuck with other guys —she whispers—, you can't fuck other girls.

—You want exclusiveness?

—No, fairness —she corrects me—. This is our deal, remember?

And I think it's a fair rule.

—Rule number eight: My release is yours —I rub my lips against hers.

—And my first times are yours —she finishes under her breath.

I move my hands over her body, delighting myself with being allowed to touch her this way after thinking about it for so long, deprived and forced to look at her from the distance.

I trace her jaw with my fingertips, moving up to her face to place one of her locks behind her ear. A route that my lips follow, from her lips, to her jaw, until they reach her earlobe. I can feel her fast paced heartbeat against my mouth as I travel over her skin, and I'm convinced she likes it when her mouth lets out a heavy breath as soon as my teeth get in contact with the spongy part of her earlobe.

Still holding her with my left hand on her neck, I reach the phone and manage -hardly- to type the rest of the rules down on the notes. I can see her eagerness and impatience whenever my eyes go up to her. And I know she's totally done when both of her hands rest on both sides of my head, as she tries to bend closer to my neck to be the one teasing me. But I move faster. I throw my phone somewhere on the couch, and cup her face with both of my hands again just to redirect her lips to mine before she can even think of being in contact with my neck.

Her lips are a bit clumsy at first, finding it difficult to follow my moves. But damn, don't they feel soft and addictive. Slowly, she catches the pace and encourages herself to directly touch me, making it hard for me not to groan when her cold fingers lie directly on the exposed skin of my neck.

She opens her mouth a bit wider, letting my tongue dig in her cave. That first touch with her tongue, mixed with the taste of her spit is making my brain go places it shouldn't go to right now. She gasps when I twirl my tongue around hers, and I can't help but grin at that reaction.

It really is making it difficult for me to hold back everything I want to do right now.

—Is this your first kiss? —I ask, breaking up the kiss.

She doesn't answer straight away, instead... I kind of feel bad for making that question when she frowns, and looks at me concerned.

—Was it that bad?

I move my thumb on her cheek. It was obvious she's inexperienced, but not in a bad way. If I hadn't broken up the kiss, I'm sure I'd be hard like a rock in my pants.

—Not at all, and that's dangerous.

Stopping myself before it's too late, I lift her up and let her rest back on the couch. She's confused, probably expecting more from this first time than just a kiss.

—You're leaving? That's not fair, you're such a teas...

—I'm leaving —I start walking to the door—. Now we're in a tie.

Of course mentioning what happened in the studio is way better than saying I'm so turned on, I'd probably would be ready to fuck her just with a kiss.

She doesn't need to know that.

—Anyway, this was an introduction of how it'll go between us from now on —I make a small pause—, cocktease.

—Stop calling me that —she warns me.

Oh, if she only knew she's only encouraging me to use that as her nickname from now on. The more she hates it, the more I'll use it.

—Okay —I sigh—, cocktease.

I rush to close the door of the apartment as soon as I see her taking her shoe off and see it fly across the room. Although I'm fast enough so I just hear it collide against the door.

Smirking again, I take my phone out and see her contact. On her name, where she wrote "Y/n", I edit it just to write "Cocktease".

It'd have been better if she had just ignored it.

[blindbeta]

Hi! I first wanted to say that I love your blog. As someone who wants to write and represent people who aren’t me I always appreciate the help.

I was reading your posts and I was wondering what you thought about my idea for magic I was going to give to my blind character (blind POV character it’s a growing up story and part of his arc is finding some community with other blind people and branching out from his childhood friends)

His power, as it stands, is the ability to communicate to animals and he gets a bird who becomes his sort of familiar and acts as his guide animal. This power was given to him by a spell book mysteriously created for him and written in Braille. His friends have their own books and magic gifts.

Just wondering what you think!

Magic and a Bird Guide Animal

Again, loving the Braille spell books. The idea of everyone having special books and magic gifts is nice, too. The arc you have for him is a refreshing one, as stories so rarely feature more than one blind character, let alone a blind community.

Communicating with animals is a nice power with lots of potential. It doesn’t seem to negate his blindness here.

When it comes to guide animals, I am not opposed to fantasy animals or fantasy versions of guide animals. According to research, these are some of the characteristics guide animals should have:

1) able to learn commands

2) trained to avoid obstacles

3) it should have designated working time and non-working time. For dogs and horses, this is signaled by a harness

4) should not be touched or distracted by others

5) should have good eyesight, hearing, and memory

6) should be able to go anywhere

7) should be docile and not dangerous or aggressive

However, I am wondering about the tactile part of working with a guide animal. For example, this video of using stairs with a guide dog shows the importance of feeling the movements of the guide animal. In the video, YouTuber Lucy Edward’s ascends stairs outside with her guide dog. As they approach the steps, the guide dog places her front paws on the bottom step. The change in elevation signals to Lucy that she is approaching steps. Text reads: ‘The command for guide dog Olga is “step stand” and she places her two front paws on the steps. I then find the step with my foot. When my foot hits the first step, she knows to start climbing. When I feel the harness level off, I know we’re on flat ground.’

For your character, while the bird can help him avoid obstacles, as guide animals should do, the bird will not be on the ground with him. He will miss out on some of the tactile cues. I don’t know how much verbal communication from the bird will make up for this.

Instead, I think giving him a cane will allow him to have tactile experiences and allow him to be aware of changes in the ground. The bird could instead, offer the part of guide animal use that acts as an obstacle avoider.

To elaborate, a cane is usually said to be an obstacle finder, while a guide animal is an obstacle avoider. A guide animal will take a person around objects or find a different path altogether. The handler may not even know the obstacle was there or that a more difficult path existed, depending their level of vision and if they were familiar with the area before. In contrast, a cane user will interact with obstacles. They will need to search around paths and choose the best one for them.

I wonder if using a cane would allow him to navigate his environment while being guided around obstacles and to more suitable paths by his guide animal. This is just a thought I had.

I am not a guide animal handler myself. Therefore, I would like to suggest consulting with guide animal handlers, such as this sensitivity reader who is open for consultation. This can help you write specific details with more ease.

I hope this helps. As always, I am happy to see blind characters using magic, especially when it doesn’t erase their blindness.

This has been cross-posted on WordPress.

[squidbiology]

Suuuuper mundane q, but: what kind of transit is most common in inkfish cities up top? I'm from the Valley and we use inklines and kettle systems and hovercraft, but I'd imagine the rest of the world.. doesn't do that?? Is it all just trains since that works for tons of species?

You'd be correct. Trains are the most common method of transportation in mixed-cultural cities, as well as between populated locations.

Inkrails are useful for inkfish and extremely efficient single-person transit, but less so for those who... can't do that. You most likely won't find many, if any, on the surface(except for entertainment purposes).

Cars are also a quite popular choice in general, but they have several issues: mostly, that different species have different sizes, different hand sizes and shapes, etc. You'll probably see more cars in cities of predominantly one species, as then they can be tailored to that species.

Buses are also an option that's more viable than cars, but still not as efficient as a good train or subway system. There's at least enough in inkopolis to be a viable option if you don't have a car and don't have far to go.

For single-person transportation, there's also devices such as bikes, skateboards, and motorcycles, as they're more regulated as opposed to flying structures, which aren't developed as mainstream transportation methods in any surface cities.

In inkfish-dominated spaces, there's also superjumping platforms. On certain buildings, there's permanent structures similar to beacons that allow you to hone in on them and jump safely, and if you feel like a workout, you can use a chain of superjumps to get around. This isn't quite as popular in the domes, as airspace is usually used by hovercraft and there's risk of being hit as you jump.

Inkfish cities are also unique in the fact that they tend to be more vertical than horizontal, though you should be used to that, being from the domes. However, instead of hovercrafts, it's mainly elevators, stairs, and superjump balconies.

[madi2112]

Pride at the Capital 2024

Two awesome days with Team Cher

Day Two:

Up bright and early today to partake in an 8am committee meeting about yet another silly pointless bill the hate mongering Majority Party is trying to get passed.

This one banning anything they define as a "political" flag or even picture or reproduction of a flag anywhere in a government area. This includes schools, airports. Etc.

They have labeled the rainbow 🌈 flag "political" and want to ban it. The real goal of the bill.

The meeting was filled with right wing rhetoric and lies (as usual) and when it was finally time for public comments the vastly overwhelming majority were against the bill.

So many people spoke out against the bill that the time per speaker kept getting reduced. From 3 minutes to 1 minute then 30 seconds to none at all. Dozens of people (including me, but luckily 2 of my team members did get to speak) never got to add thier thoughts to those already opposing the bill.

Didn't matter.

The bill passed the committee along party lines. No surprise there.

<Team Cher member speaking to deaf ears>

More delivered more bill information sheets and attempts at walk up appointments until our next meeting. Which was an interesting one.

A very interesting one.

We were meeting with a film crew who would be our companions for the rest of the day.

Yep, I (and Team Cher) are part of a documentary to air later this year (on Prime and Hulu) about those of us combating the horrible things happening in Florida. We are just a segment in the program along with a look at an Openly LGBT Senator candidate and Equality Florida in general.

They filmed our pre-meeting game plan session, one meeting with a wonderfully supportive Senator, our post meeting thoughts with both Senators, including the meeting with a someone from the opposition party.

Then lastly they filmed our overall thoughts and reflections on the two days of work we put in.

Can't wait to see how it's all put together!

Lunch was provided by the Florida Democratic Party in there conference room and media center.

We left just enough time to run down to the rotunda again (the stairs were faster then the wait for an elevator) to support another Equality Florida press conference.

<I'm just over the speakers left shoulder >

Our afternoon meeting was with Senator Torres from Orlando.

He's a terrific ally and has a grand daughter who is a transwoman.

Needless to say the 22 bills introduced already this session by the Majority Party is something he loudly opposes.

He did welcome the film crew so you will be able to see and hear his words of profound wisdom. Truly inspiring.

<Senator Torres, in the tie, being an inspiration >

The last meeting of the day was with a Senator from the oppressors (sorry. I mean opposition) party.

He was less the enthusiastic about our meeting.

Still we agreed in our strategy meeting (being filmed) we would be friendly, respectful and professional.

We were the only ones.

The senator first limited our group to only two of us, claiming his office was too small.

To bad there were couches and chairs for at least 6 in the office and an empty meeting room next door.

Then took a phone call during the alloted 15 minutes. Which didn't go even a second longer despite the call mid meeting.

He was also dismissive, confrontational and rude.

All of which we let the film crew and Democratic House leaders know about.

They weren't surprised.

The whole encounter brought on the feelings that we are fighting the evil Galactic Empire.

Enhanced by the string of 9 straight middle age (and older) white men in nearly matching suits, white shirts and ties marching into the Republican office as we arrived.

The next coming of stormtroopers.

Then I looked at the 8 of us. Diverse, colorful, full of conviction and belief in what's right.

Like a band of rebel fighters.

Hopefully we can fight them off before they takeover completely.

I felt like I was part of the solution. Part of fighting the good fight against those wanting a facist theocracy run by heartless, evil wanna be dictators.

The last bit of business was the wrap up interviews for the film crew. We all chipped in with our feelings about the event, the real struggles we faced and how we bonded as a group. This was filmed outdoors in front of the capital where just hours ago we took the group photo.

Saying goodbye was all that was left and more then a few tears were shed.

Along with a group hug.

Even our captain, who has done these teams many times before, said this group was special and one of a kind in how we bonded.

We agreed to try to reunite next year and I hope it happens.

If not, it was a life changing, inspiring and emotional 2 days.

So to Devon, Charles, Stephanie, Marissa Katie, Corey and Tanya, I'll never forget this and will always be part of #TeamCher4life.

~Madison

[nightlifeseries]

Date night N.D. and Tami Pt 4

Tami: So, tell me how have you been? 

N.D.: Work has been nonstop. Every time I think I have a break- I get called in for an emergency. 

Tami: Is that bad? 

N.D.: Not bad for my pockets. But it’s bad for my health and relationship.

Tami: I mean.. [chewing] I work just as much so I get it. I was going to sleep this entire day if you didn’t call me. 

N.D.: Oh yea? How is the shop? 

Tami: It is crazy right now. I have gotten a few offers to open a new shop.

N.D.: How would that work? 

Tami: Yea well at the same time, the girls want to renovate the current location. 

N.D.: In what way? 

Tami: They suggested adding a washing station, combining the spa and massage room. Which I am not opposed to. It’s just with that kind of update, we wouldn’t be able to use the shop. Like structurally - we can move the clients to one side and style them. We would be right in the way. I was personally thinking of taking the stairs out and adding an elevator lift.

N.D.: Did you share that with the ladies? Will that location support an elevator lift? 

Tami: I have to get with a contractor and see what we can change structurally. It may not be possible. I mean when I moved into that building, I had no idea my popularity would skyrocket. 

N.D.: What about tearing down the building and rebuilding? So everything you need is there rather than renovating and wasting time with contractors? 

Tami: So hire builders? 

N.D.: I think building a new salon would be most cost effective. Renovating is way more expensive. 

Tami: But what do I do about the girls? They have to work.

N.D.: Take them with you. 

Tami: Huh? 

N.D.: You travel to clients. Take them with you. That way they can network and pick up clients as well. 

Tami: Certainly you can not be serious. I mean that sounds good, but do you know how much that would cost? I have 6 stylists. Traveling for one person is a lot.

N.D.: You have friends in high places right? 

Tami: uh... 

N.D.: Send them to other shops to help out. You have been all over the world. Give your stylists a chance to travel and grow their clientele. That way when you open the second shop - you will be ready to work. 

Tami: Wow this is a lot to think about. So you mentioned rebuilding the salon, sending the girls to other cities for work, and opening the second shop. Did I miss anything? 

Youtube

[dreamxonxx]

𝙰 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚁𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙿𝚝.𝟸

     (( PART TWOOOOO!!! sorry for the delay life is crazy lmaooo- ANYWHO i hope you guys enjoy!! part 3 should be coming here soon <3 ))

warnings!: kinda some sad stuff but nothing crazy (:

2.2k!

   Firmly shaking his hand, she smiled. “ Good. Then while you get rid of that damned book, I will get things ready.” she said letting go, bringing her wrist up to examine the gauntlet. He nodded and took a step back. “I’ll be back momentarily to resume where we were.” he said, making his way towards the staircase he had previously descended from. She watched as he made his way up the long creaky stairs, once out of sight she focused her energy to her gauntlet that lit to life with wild blue magic beaming in the center. She tilted her head slightly watching the magic dance around her wrist. Normally her magic was calm and easy to manipulate, but for some reason it seemed to be having a mind of its own. Scrunching her eyebrows in frustration she used her opposite hand to guide the magic back to the center of the gauntlet. She opened the center of the gauntlet, opening the blue orbs that allowed her to other universes. She stared at them in awe for a  moment as wisps of blue swam around the orbs and the space between, glistening as they moved. This was normal to an extent. There have been points while traveling the multiverse where she finds a ‘hot spot’, a point in which her magic elevates itself to match the others' magic in the room. However, she had never seen it this strong and prevalent. Taking a deep breath to help regain her course of thought. The orbs balanced as the wisps continued their dance, using her opposing hand she spun the orbs slowly trying not to disrupt the peace. 

Hearing the stairs creak, she stopped the orbs looking back at the man, who was making his way down the stairs. “All ready?” she asked, bringing her attention back to the orbs spinning them again slowly. “All ready.” He repeated as he approached her with his hands behind his back, raising his eyebrow at the orbs between them. “Give me just one more minute and I will be too.” she spoke softly, keeping her eyes on the orbs. “What kind of magic is this?” he asked, watching her spin the orbs in and out of view. “That's a long story for a different time, I'm afraid Doctor.” she said with a sly smile as she picked out one of the universes. The gauntlet pulls the unpicked orbs back into itself, she shudders as her gauntlet wisped with the almost feral magic dancing around the outside. Making a mental note to have her gauntlet looked at when she made it home she pinched the orb open. She took a couple of steps back making space between the both of them, Stephen took a couple of steps around the orb now standing next to her. Once it got as big as the both of them she looked over to him. “After you.” She motioned for him to step through. He put his finger on the orb, the blue orbs slowly going up his fingers and down his hand slowly trying to pull him in. “And you’re sure this is safe?” he said, pulling his hand back the wisps slowly fading. “Oh, don't be such a baby Stephen.” she said playfully, rolling her eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips, “If you say so..” He said, reaching his arm out to the orb again, pushing his hand though. He watched as his arm was engulfed by the orb before looking back at her one last time before stepping through.

 Once threw, he closed his eyes shut, the sudden brightness made him feel as if he went blind.He hissed, bringing his palms to his eyes he rubbed them, trying to relieve the burning sensation. Blinking a couple of times, keeping one hand above his eyes, he took in his surroundings.He was in a meadow cornered with woods and a waterfall that stood perfectly between the two. The only sounds coming from the water that hit the rocks and birds that chirped overhead. He took a shallow breath in fully consuming his environment. Its been god knows how long since he had left that god forsaken Sanctum and to finally be in a place that felt peaceful felt surreal. She stepped threw behind him, closing the passage behind her. Turning to him she couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched the sorcerer take in his surroundings. This would normally be the part where she says something sarcastic or witty to try to lighten the mood, but she could tell he really needed to be left how he was for another minute. She slowly walked past him trying not to disrupt his moment. Walking to one of the rocks that sat a little from the waterfall, but close enough to feel the mist that splashed from the water, she sat criss-crossed. Stephen followed shortly after sitting beside her, keeping a small amount of distance between them. “ It’s..beautiful. Truly.” he said in a hushed voice. He faced her with a small sad smile, “Thank you.” She smiled gently back. “You have nothing to thank me for Stephen.” She turned her attention to the waterfall. “This is universe -900, otherwise known as-”

“Utopia” Stephen finished for her. She whipped her head back around looking at him in surprise. “ H-how..You know about Utopia?” she said, confused.She was the first person to be able to travel here, since it used to just be a legend. Before her brain could spiral with questions he answered. “ I only know about it, because in my universe..” he sighed and looked down at the water before he finished,” You told me about it..” She opened her mouth as if to speak but she couldn't find the words, curiosity riddled her brain. He glanced over at her before clearing his throat, “In my universe You were the Sorceress Supreme before me.” he said sadly before looking back to the water.” You were the one who brought me into the New York Sanctum, you were the one who would teach me the advanced books, even though it went against the Sorcerer's code, you always pushed me to be the best I could be...For whatever reason, you trusted me, and to an extent, i became your apprentice. We traveled and trained a lot together.. You told me your theories on the multiverse, and what universes may lie within..Until you became sick..”  The last part came out as a whisper as he looked back at you.”To this day I don't understand how fate could be so cruel.” he said in a slightly bitter town. “In my universe.. Your death.. Was the beginning of its demise.” She kept him stable. In his universe (Y/N) was his one last thing keeping him going. So whenever he lost her, he lost a part of himself. So after Christine's denial he spiraled to the point he is at today. Alone in a universe that is rotting away.

Processing what he said, she sadly smiled at him. “ I am deeply sorry for your loss..However,” she gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “ She would be proud that you’re here, with a variant version of herself. We are the only people to have ever walked its surface!.” she said, speaking softly trying not to say the wrong thing. “ You did what you did because you were in pain.. And you had no one left to try to help you on a better path, so grief and anger stricken you turned to the Darkhold, you did what you believed to be the best thing for yourself, and bad things happened. I’m not angry at what happened. I’m saddened to know you simply lost your way.” she squeezed his shoulder gently before letting go. He was speechless..He faced her, searching her eyes for any sort of indication that she was lying or if this was all his mind playing a cold joke on him. “Sadly, darling.. You speak as if you know me..as if you know what i have done..when in reality you only know a version of me..” he said, placing his hand on top of hers."The person you knew died long ago." Looking down at their hands lazily resting upon each other, she intertwined their fingers, looking back up to him.“This path you’re on… it’s gonna get you killed. You know that, though; don’t you? “ her eyes pierced through his. ”Eventually..” he responded with a sad smile.” Then would you be able to rest, Doctor?” she asked. He hummed in response, looking at the scene ahead of them.” There is no rest for the wicked, but I would like to hope it's going to be better than the haunted house.” he said, referencing his Sanctum. “Why do you trust me, only after just meeting me, all the while knowing that I am the one who damned my universe. There is absolutely no reason or point to take me here. So why.?” he asked, standing up getting slightly frustrated. He didn't deserve kindness, he didn't deserve to be in this universe, and he didn't deserve to be back with her. After everything he did he deserved the worst, yet here you are stealing him from his nightmare to take him to a place he only dreamed of. Is he the crazy one or is (Y/N)?

She stayed seated, turning her body to be facing him. “Stop mentally abusing yourself. You can do nothing about the past, only the future.  This world is naturally a blank slate, that once you pass through changes its surface to your envision of the world. And as dark and cold your universe is, it's a blank slate just waiting to have something done with it.” she said calmly and soothingly. “It’s all about perspective, and breaking the loop.” Letting her words sink in he turned to face her. “How would you suppose I do that?” He said coolly, raising an eyebrow. “Easy.” she said standing up. “Give the Darkhold a rest. Find a safe spot only you know of and leave it there. You’re doing nothing but making yourself lose whatever parts of you you have left.” She put her hand on his forearm. Looking at her hand he let out a small sigh. “ I will think about it.” he gave a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

For the next couple of hours the two took turns explaining their universes and their variant counterparts, enjoying each others company. She explained her powers and how her Stephen helped her control them. He felt a twinge of.. Jealousy.. When he heard her speak of his variant. He had never been fond of his other selves, especially when they had Christine..but for one to have (Y/N).. it didn’t quite sit with him well.. 

Once the sun started to set she knew it was time to start heading back,even though she really didn’t want to, she knew she was pushing her own magical abilities. "Well.. As nice as this has truly been.. I’ve got to get you back, and then myself before Stephen freaks out too badly.” she stood up, focusing her magic to her gauntlet. Strange nodded, looking around him one last time to really take in his settings. “Thank you.. Again. This was truly needed.” Watching as she found his dark blue orb, he put his hand on her shoulder. Sighing he made eye contact with her. “I know you're not.. Her.. but i have to say this before i leave..” he took a deep breath composing himself. “ I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done for me, whether it's in this universe or not, you always seem to find a way to bless me with your presence. Thank you for not giving up on me..” he said moving his hand from her shoulder to her cheek. “ I hate seeing you go again..” he whispered the last part. She leaned into his tough slightly keeping her eye contact. “This will be our last conversation for a while, but it will never be the last, Stephen.” she said, holding his hand on her face. She took his hand and moved it around her waist as she wrapped her hands around his neck. He froze slightly at the physical contact. It had been years since someone had held him, and even longer since it was with her. He quickly got over it and held her firmly to himself. “Don’t do anything reckless while I am gone.” she said with a quick squeeze. “Don’t think of this as a goodbye, simply i'll see you later.” she said letting him go reluctantly. He frowned as the two pulled apart. He looked to the portal that seemed to be opened on the eerie street from which she came. Knowing there is no other option he stepped through taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss upon it. “Stay safe on your travels, Master (Y/N)” his grip on her hand softened as the space between the two grew bigger. “Stay away from that book Stephen, I shall see you soon.” she said as her portal closed, going back to its dark blue orb. She picked up the orb and examined it as she put it back into the rotation of the gauntlet. She looked around at her surroundings one last time, smiling to herself before she opened the portal to her universe. She sighed as she stepped through, knowing she was about to be getting an ear full from Strange.

@silver-shadow @cerene-ciderr @mooorana @pinkthick @strangesthirdeye @twilightzone24​

[abluescarfonwaston]

If Franziska WERE to have a horse, what would stop her from riding it in the classroom/courtroom/any other place? Nothing! She'd teach her horse to bite the defence and any other person who'd dare to oppose them (her and her horse). In addition to her whip and crop, of course. Miles lives in fear of the day she realises she's grown up who can now use a family stable how she pleases. He starts to carry horse treats around, just in case.

Franziska and the terror. The only thing that stops her are the metal detectors (too small), the poop issue and the fact they keep scheduling her for court on the second and third floor. She still believes the 'fact' Miles told her about a school prank where people took horses up the stairs and they couldn't get down cause they don't walk down stairs. The story was about cows but she's not taking the risk with her best friend going in those cursed elevators.

[victorgrwrites]

WIP Wednesday

Buhh, right, WIP Wednesday. Well, I did just bumrush 1st draft of the next Higher Than Death chapter. Have a section.

"Oh! You're the new one."

Jack heard… he's not entirely sure what he heard. A voice, certainly, but a voice that sounded like Raphael mimicking Astarion. If Astarion was deciding to lay on the sultry silk a little too thick.

His eyes snap to the movement beyond the bath, a red figure rising out of a bed that was set on an elevated half of the room. And it…looked like Raphael. Though everything about him is entirely wrong, from the way he spoke to the way he walked to the way he emoted. This devil cocked his hip to the side in his intricate but sparse leather harness, his hand lifting to drag the tips of his claws gently against his exposed chest.

"Raphael told me there would be a new patron of his, but he didn't tell me you would be as handsome as you are." The devil purrs in an airy kind of sing-song mockery of Raphael's voice, slowly descending the short steps to the sunken floor.

"And Raphael didn't even tell me your name," Jack smiles, standing straight and putting his arms behind his back. "He's kind of rude if you ask me."

"He can be quite the naughty boy," the devil titters, "but he does work so very hard." He reaches the bottom of the stairs and curtsies as if there was far more fabric he had on to curtsy with. "My name is Haarlep. I am Raphael's succubus, charged with entertaining his guests and taking away their stresses for a little while."

Haarlep straightens and folds his hands behind his back coquettishly, "And you're Jack Punch. Raphael told me that I may be seeing you. He seems to think you have some tension that could use some releasing."

Jack huffs a soft chuckle, bringing a hand up in a shrug, "I figure it's more polite to ask rather than assume, so. How would you do that?" He wasn't necessarily opposed to some rest, even if that came at the cost of lying with a succubus. It's not like he wasn't used to being drained into sleep.

Haarlep titters again as he brings his hand up to his lips, demurely hiding it. "Polite and intelligent. You are the whole package, handsome." He brings his hand down to his chest again as he begins to explain, "I am sure you've been told I am a succubus. And as a succubus, my most sought after services are of the sexual variety. Not only to provide any act your depraved imagination can conjure, but in a multitude of forms that are entirely accurate to their original owners."

Jack's brows furrow slightly at the word. "Forms?"