chains of office

Get In Losers, We’re Going Curse Breaking.

I’ve been doing some research today (I can neither confirm nor deny I’m writing the sequel chapter to Dial Tone) and I just found out that Draco Malfoy’s wife Astoria supposedly dies really young due to a curse placed on her ancestor, which leaves both Scorpius and Malfoy devastated and I’m just…are you fucking kidding me????

Are you telling me that instead of the shitheap of fiction that was The Cursed Child, we could have instead had a story about young Scorpius Malfoy finding out about the curse laid on his mother, and being the Slytherin child that he is, deciding to find a way to break it. 

Like the possibilities, I can’t even, my brain is just…running away with the idea of what you could do with a story like that. Scorpius Malfoy finds out about his mother’s curse, and how his birth shortens her life, I mean…it’s like…there, in the title??? The Cursed Child???!?

And then you have Albus “Al” Potter being sorted into Slytherin but that doesn’t make him any less like his dad so when he finds out what his friend is trying to do he’s there, he’s 100% there to help, whatever his friend needs, Albus Severus Potter is there. His dad gave him the invisibility cloak after all, what’s to stop them using it to get into the Library and reading all the books. They get caught of course, and Professor McGonagall has this surreal moment of not quite déjà vu, at having a Potter and a Malfoy breaking the rules in front of her again, but as friends??? And they’re…they’re reading about healing magic and protection spells at 3am??? Slytherins??? Is…is it too soon to consider early retirement??? Asking for a friend???

And because Al is the precious little Slytherin that he is, he has absolutely no qualms about breaking into his Dad’s office, aka Harry Fucking Potter’s Office, at the ministry and finding out all he can about the most powerful ways to break curses. But first he needs to get there and maybe a few years ago asking his dad if he could come visit on the weekend might not have been weird but it’s weird now. Everything’s been weird since he got sorted into Slytherin but that’s not important now. What is important is he’s pretty sure he remembers a giant book chained to his dad’s office desk and he needs to get to it, but he’s a bit of a squib when it comes to flying, and apparition is still beyond him, but Rose can fly. 

And even though she’s been sorted into Gryfindor and they don’t talk as often as they used to it’s worth a shot right? And initially she calls him mad for wanting to do what he wants to do (just, a moment of pure Hermione shines through, “no, absolutely not, you’re going to get us expelled or worse”) but as she listens to him, the more he pleads adamantly and vocally on behalf of his friend who is just staring at the floor, the more she realizes, they’re serious. Scorpius hasn’t even attempted to flirt with her yet…or…at all really, not recently…and she can’t help but notice he looks a little thinner, a little paler, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises, and when he looks up there’s a look of harrowing sorrow behind those bright eyes and Rose Granger-Weasley says slowly, “No, I’m not stealing a broom just so I can fly Albus to the Ministry…” takes a deep breath and licks her lips, determination settling over her shoulders like a well-fitted cloak. “We’re all going. But first we need to get to the Burrow.”

“The Burrow?” Al frowns, doing that weird hopping skip of a run he does to keep up with Rose’s long strides as she turns. “Why are we going to the Burrow?”

“Because, you can fit more in the trunk of a Ford Anglia.”

But no, that’s fine I guess. We’ll just get some muddled bullshit about Bad Parenting, time turners and alternate universes, feat the deranged lovechild of HimWithoutANose and RacistLeStrange. Sure. Great.

Timeline of Daenerys’ and Jon’ births

I’ve seen some people confused about Jon’ and Daenerys’ age, so I thought I would write an explanation.

Let’s start with Aerys and Rhaella, the parents of Rhaegar and Daenerys. They married at a very young age (Aerys was 15 and Rhaella either 13 or 14). Rhaella gave birth to Rhaegar in 259 AC, at the age of either 14 or 15. Viserys was born in 276 AC, so 17 years after Rhaegar (Rhaella had many miscarriages, difficult pregnancies and stillbirths during these 17 years). 

In 282 AC Lyanna and Rhaegar disappear together - in 283 AC, the Battle of the Trident takes place and Rhaegar is killed. Few days prior to the Battle of the Trident, Aerys rapes his wife Rhaella, and that is the night when Daenerys is conceived.

Relations between Aerys and his queen had been strained during the last years of his reign. They slept apart and did their best to avoid each other during the waking hours. But whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor in the night. The day he burned his mace-and-dagger Hand, Jaime and Jon Darry had stood at guard outside her bedchamber whilst the king took his pleasure.

The “mace-and-dagger” Hand is Qarlton Chelsted. Aerys burned him alive after that one discovered the wildfire plot and tried to stop it.

“Aerys’s new mace-and-dagger Hand was not utterly stupid, and with Rossart, Belis, and Garigus coming and going night and day, he became suspicious. Chelsted, that was his name, Lord Chelsted.“ It had come back to him suddenly, with the telling. “I’d thought the man craven, but the day he confronted Aerys he found some courage somewhere. He did all he could to dissuade him. He reasoned, he jested, he threatened, and finally he begged. When that failed he took off his chain of office and flung it down on the floor. Aerys burnt him alive for that, and hung his chain about the neck of Rossart, his favorite pyromancer.”

When Aerys hears that Rhaegar lost, he sends Rhaella and Viserys to Dragonstone.

"Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side.”

The sack of King’s Landing happens a fortnight after the Battle of the Trident, Eddard arrives to King’s Landing shortly after the Sack, and few days later he leaves for Dorne to look for Lyanna. He soon finds her, and promises to protect Jon. Jon was born in 283 AC.

Meanwhile Rhaella stays on Dragonstone (Robert’s forces didn’t try to take the castle right away) until her pregnancy reaches its term. She delivers Daenerys and dies in childbirth. Daenerys was born in 284 AC.

Jon is older than Daenerys by around 8 months.

Is There A Doctor In The Room

So Creampuffs, I’ve got something for ya.

I was working on something for Carmilla Week and then a plot bunny hopped in, sat on my head and refused to leave. Sadly, the idea matched a prompt I’d already finished and that story was a bit more fitting.

However, what with the news of the 13th doctor and all, I did feel like writing this. Consider it an early entry!

“I’m just so excited!” Laura all but squealed, squirming in her seat. She knew she was getting some weird looks from neighbouring tables, but honestly if her relationship with Carmilla had taught her anything it was how to ignore those. They got them a lot, after all.

Sometimes people recognized them from Laura’s videos, sometimes they just recognized Laura from her column and articles at the paper and sometimes they just wondered why the perpetually broody girl glaring at everything was with the smiley ball of sunshine on a sugar rush.

Well, they got other strange looks too, but the sentiment behind those was typically less friendly and the short journalist tried not to think on those too much.

Hell, she wasn’t even paying much attention to anything other than what she was talking about at this point because she was so freaking psyched. “I mean, I really didn’t mind the male doctors or anything. They were so, so great and I became a fan of their versions…well, most of them anyway. But now we finally, finally have a female doctor.”

Across the table, holding Laura’s hand, sat Carmilla. The ex-vampire was giving Laura an indulgent, if slightly bored smile as her girlfriend rambled on and on. “And I get to interview her! Me! I have soooooo many questions.”

Carmilla chuckled and squeezed the honey-blonde reporter’s hand. “Cupcake, I think they want an article that’s more than a confirmation of fan theories.” She teased as she speared a piece of her steak. Carmilla still preferred it  nearly raw and bloody, which Laura half-suspected was just to make a point.

She’d been pushing it around her plate and reluctantly nibbling for most of the evening, though. Odd…and kind of a waste, since this restaurant was ridiculously fancy and expensive.

“I know, I know.” Laura lamented, pouting. “But just think what this can do for female representation! I mean, there’s more female role models now but none are quite as established a character as the doctor, you know?” She stopped talking just long enough to shovel some food into her mouth. “Oh god, what would happen if she met River? That would be really cool for LGBTQ viewers, you know?”

The blonde suddenly stopped and frowned. “Well, I dunno, there’s already a lot of people bitching online so maybe they won’t go that far with it.” She muttered. “They’ll probably make the companion male, just to keep the balance there. I guess people might complain that the whole deal with River would kind of make the doctor gay when really I doubt the doctor has a preference considering-Carm, are you okay?”

Carmilla’s head snapped back to Laura and she gave her a wry smile. “Sorry, Cupcake. I was distracted for a bit.”

“Oh.” Laura muttered. “Crap, am I boring you? I’m sorry Carm it’s just that I saw the announcement at work and then Gemma told me that I’d get to do the interview and I’ve been so excited about all of it that I didn’t even ask about your day and-“

“Whoa, hey, Cupcake no.” Carmilla quickly cut her off. “Laura, I love that you’re excited. Look at you. You look like Christmas and your birthday both came at once.” She chuckled and pressed a kiss to the back of Laura’s hand. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit distracted.”

Carmilla drained her glass and signalled a waiter before turning back to Laura. “So, I take it you’re bringing your mug to this interview?” She asked with a smirk.

Laura gave her girlfriend an unimpressed look. This matter was not over and they would be talking about it when they got home, but if Carmilla wanted to change the subject back then that was fine for now. “Of course. If I come home without a signed mug I’ll consider the whole thing a failure. Do we still have-“

She stopped when the waitress came by with two glasses of champagne and couldn’t keep herself from glaring. The perky brunette had been perfectly polite all evening, but she had also been giving Carmilla strange smiles.

This was hardly the first time people flirted with Carmilla in front of her, but that didn’t mean Laura had grown to like it any better.

Once the waitress had left, Laura continued where she left off. “Do we still have that marker that Laf tried to enchant?”

“The one that moved by itself and wrote satanic messages that we couldn’t erase?”  Carmilla muttered absently, not really looking at Laura. “I think it’s chained up in my office.”

“Good.” Laura grinned as she grabbed her glass. She really didn’t remember Carmilla ordering this, but she had kind of tuned out once she learned that the restaurant served triple chocolate cake as a desert. Besides, she wasn’t about to turn down champagne. “See, if I can get it to behave, I can still wash my mug after it’s signed.”

She took a healthy drink of champagne and saw Carmilla’s eyes widen in horror just before something cold and sharp lodged in her throat. Immediately she began to cough, retch and choke. Her glass dropped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.

“Laura!” Carmilla shot up and rushed to her side, more panicked than the journalist had ever seen her.

Tears sprung to the blonde’s eyes as she pounded herself in the chest while her throat spasmed around whatever was lodged in it. Finally a particularly sharp blow knocked it loose and with a gross, retching noise a glittering piece of metal shot from Laura’s throat on to her plate.

She took in deep, much needed breaths while her girlfriend hovered nervously at her side, rubbing her back and holding back her hair. “Fuck, Laura. Cupcake, are you okay?”

Laura nodded wordlessly and raised her head to see what she had nearly choked to death on.

A ring. Glinting in candlelight and partially covered in sweet and sour sauce was a gorgeous silver ring with a very big, very pretty ruby. Her heart stopped.

‘A ring. A ring in my champagne glass. I nearly choked on a ring in my champagne glass.’ Her brain replayed those thoughts a few times, before arriving at the next point that seemed important in her oxygen starved state. ‘Wait, why was there a ring in my glass? I could have died!’

She turned to Carmilla and pointed at the deadly weapon on her plate. “What the hell, Carmilla!”

Utterly baffled, the former vampire only blinked at her.

“Why would you do that?” Laura demanded, still pointing at the ring. “I could have died? Are you trying to kill me?”

The dark-haired girl’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “Well, gee, Cupcake I must be playing the really, really long game if that was the plan.” She drawled sarcastically. “Step one, repeatedly fail to seduce you. Step two, fall in love with you. Step three, relationship drama. Step four, everything literally goes to hell. Step five, everything is fixed. Step six, inexplicable murder. What do you imagine my next step is? World domination? It’s not my fault that you downed $800 champagne like a shot without looking at it!”

“You buy stuff like that all the time!” Laura fired back. More than one argument in the Hollis-Karnstein household had started because Laura had sent Carmilla out for milk and eggs and she returned with six bottles of expensive champagne.

More offended at the snark than at nearly choking to death by this point, Laura returned the glare with one of her own. “Oh ha ha, very clever Carm.” She growled, rubbing her throat. “None of this explains the choking hazard in my champagne!”

Carmilla let out a long groan and covered her face with both hands. “My god, it’s like you’re trying to be the embodiment of all blonde jokes right now.” She sighed. When her hands came down again, she snatched up the ring from Laura’s plate and shoved it in her face. “I’m trying to propose, you unbelievable twit!”

Everything went very quiet.

“Oh.” Laura muttered dumbly, staring at the ring. “I…Sorry. I probably should have realized that.” She muttered as a bright blush began to spread over her cheeks.

The tension drained from Carmilla and she smiled at her girlfriend’s embarrassment. “Ok, let’s try this again.” The pale girl sank to one knee, quickly wiped off the ring and held it out to Laura again.

“Cupcake…Laura…” She began, falteringly. “I love you. Those words feel so inadequate when I think of how I should describe my feelings, but I know by now that if I start waxing poetic you’ll either cry or call me pretentious.”

Laura had to quickly stifle a sob with her hand.

Carmilla chuckled. “I love you when you’re happy and smiling. I love you when you’re sad and all I want to do is make it all go away. I love you when you’re mad and passionate and rambling.” She took Laura’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m mortal now, so until we figure out that immortality thing, I only have so much time and I don’t want to spend a moment of it without you.”

Carmilla cleared her throat, dark eyes shining with tears even as she smiled at her lover. “You see me. You’ve seen every part of me and even the parts that should have made you terrified or should have sent you running…well, they didn’t. It hasn’t been easy, but we made it and each day I wake up happy that you chose me.”

“Carm…” Laura whimpered, thick happy tears freely running down her cheeks now.

“We’re better together, Cupcake.” Carmilla continued, playing with Laura’s fingers. “So I-I hope you’ll marry me and be with me forever.”

“Yes! Yes, yes, of course you idiot!” Laura cried, hauling Carmilla up into a messy, desperate kiss. She was vaguely aware of applause breaking out around them, but who the hell cared? She was kissing Carmilla and she loved her and she was so fucking happy because they were engaged!

They broke the kiss just long enough for Carmilla to slip the ring on Laura’s fingers clumsily before Laura tugged her new fiancée into another kiss. And another, and another.

“Fucking Doctor Who.” Carmilla laughed through her tears between kisses. “Stealing my thunder.”

“This is so much better than the doctor.” Laura sighed, resting her forehead against her fiancée’s. She really wasn’t going to get tired of that word any time soon. “But when we have kids, we’re telling them this whole proposal was way les embarrassing.”

Carmilla laughed into the next kiss and pulled back with a sheepish grin. “That might be hard, because the ginger twins are two tables over, filming everything.”

Laura followed Carmilla’s gaze and sighed when she saw and excited Lafontaine and a teary Perry wave with a camera resting on their table. “Dammit, Carm, you gotta warn a girl.”

Carmilla laughed. “Like when she’s about to ingest an ungodly expensive ring?” She asked with a cheeky grin.

“Stop pretending that was my fault.” Laura pouted. “Maybe I was just expecting you to propose with something less clichéd than a ring in my champagne.”

Carmilla really burst out laughing at that. She kissed Laura one last time and climbed to her feet. “Cupcake, we’re roommates who hated each other at first and then fell desperately in love, spent quite some time pining for each other and got back together after an extremely messy break-up and went on to get married…or engaged at least.”

Carmilla grinned down at her. “The whole vampire thing aside, we’re living proof that a bit of cliché can’t hurt.”

A note about the Enslin case

It is true that- legally- sodomy was a capital offense, and had the court been able to prove that Enslin had anally penetrated Monhart, I’m sure his punishment would have been worse than drumming, the but fact remains that, in general, certain acts described as ‘sodomy’ were viewed on about the same level as adultery or whoring. They were socially unacceptable topics, but ultimately not something you’d be ostracized for or something people would immediately hate you for. 
This is a society that didn’t understand sexuality. At least not in terms of gendered preferences; they assumed that all men desired women and boys to some degree, and sexual acts (short of penetration) were just another sin. Since the Great Awakening, everyone had pretty much accepted that all people were born sinful (sinners in the hands of an angry God anyone?), so sodomites weren’t seen as ‘homosexuals’ so much as another brand of sinners. And they could often use the culture of sensibility and close male friendships to get away with public expressions of friendships or long-standing relationships.

fiftysevenacademics did a great essay series on sodomy and sensibility culture.

So, when we look at the case of Enslin, people might say that being drummed out of camp and publicly shammed was harsh, especially if the culture didn’t punish minor sexual acts between men- and especially when Steuben, who approved the punishment, stood accused of the same behavior.

In the eyes of the military, the important crime to punish was fraternization

Lieutenant Enslin had attempted sodomy with an enlisted private in his unit. If he had been with another officer of close or equal rank, it might not have been considered fraternization. The crime requires the act to be compromising towards the chain of command, and an officer- who during this era were typically of a much higher social class, had been intimate with a boy who, by virtue of his position in the army, was bound to follow his orders in battle. That is the definition of fraternization. The power dynamic is there.

The power dynamic wasn’t necessarily the primary concern so much as the effect of that dynamic on men in that unit. Suspecting that an officer might be using his position to make men under his command have sex with him would make the soldiers suspicious not only of that officer and his priorities, but also of each other. There’s issues of favoritism. The reasoning behind promotion gets thrown into suspicion, and doubts among themselves could make them unwilling to accept leadership- which is dangerous in battle. Particularly during Valley Forge when officers and senior NCOs were quitting the army in droves, leadership in the ranks was constantly moving and needed to be legitimized quickly. Especially to Steuben who trained in the Prussian style and paid particular attention to military leadership, fraternization was a serious issue. Fraternization is still a major issue in the military because it is so detrimental to the morale of a unit.

So, it’s shitty, but Steuben and Washington were right to punish this case harshly and publicly.

rainbow valley

Summary: “As I’ve made very clear, Detective,” says Treville, strained, “I don’t make it a habit of getting involved in my employees’ love lives. But considering this precinct’s utterly abysmal and somewhat dangerous track record, you really cannot fault me for being concerned when you walk into work with a split lip that was not present the night prior.”

“Track record?” asks Constance weakly, and God, this really has just been the weirdest conversation.

“Athos’s wife is a wanted criminal in twenty-two states who only last week evaded arrest yet again, d’Artagnan’s spent the better part of the past year pining after you, and Aramis has gone and fallen in love with the very married wife of a European nobleman who has somehow gotten himself accidentally involved with the Spanish mob!” 

“At least Porthos is doing alright,” offers Constance lamely. 

“Yes,” says Treville, looking harried. “There is that.”

I wrote a shameless fic for @hansolosbutt‘s modern detective b99 au about the circumstances surrounding the day after constance leaves bonaciuex, which we decided were basically exactly like that one post where that personal trainer’s students all commiserated and went together without telling her to retrieve her things from her asshole ex boyfriends house. a good post, friends. a very good post. also, constance’s last name is baudin bc fleur, her niece (?) had that last name and i needed a maiden name for her. also also, trigger warnings for very brief mention of domestic violence. anyways, here’s this thing. this truly is like … my favorite au on the planet, right now,

Constance has always thought that Captain Treville’s office is somewhat spartan in decor. The desk is almost always immaculately clean, the commendations on the wall completely aligned and straight in their frames, and the clock above the doorway minimalist on charitable days. Aside from the small rainbow flag sitting among his pencils (all perfectly sharpened, all neatly arranged), fitted into his favorite fleur-de-lis-patterned mug at the edge of the desk, there really isn’t anything in the office that makes it particularly warm or welcoming or personable. Constance remembers only a few months before when the poor guy Deputy Commissioner Richelieu had sent down from human resources came to discuss Porthos and Aramis’s (convoluted, nonsensical, wildly work-inappropriate) email chain; he had entered Treville’s office looking apprehensive and left looking somewhat concerned. Constance, who had been privy to The Email Chain only once over Aramis’s shoulder, knew that it had somehow devolved from its benign origins of subject line: check out this guy’s suspicious-looking mustache to classic French literature-related memes. Quite frankly, unless one was particularly well-versed in the minds of Detectives d’Herblay and du Vallon, any poor fool tasked with reading through such an atrocity would likely as not emerge somewhat traumatized.

Joubert’s apprehension, however, had been surprisingly directed towards Treville himself; he had meekly suggested on his way out of the captain’s office, fiddling nervously with the bottom of his tie, that maybe he might consider putting a couch with earth-toned upholstery in the corner, just to make the place feel more welcoming?

Trevill had blinked at him, uncomprehending.

Aramis, who’d been trying to distract Athos from where he had his nose buried in case files by flinging paperclips at him across the room, had said, “Flower-patterned would make it even more welcoming, don’t you think Captain?”

Porthos had choked on his own laugh. Athos, engrossed in his case files, had tried to drink out of the communal bullpen pushpin mug and started spluttering in a most undignified manner.

D’Artagnan, bless him, had been the one to finally take pity on the aggrieved Joubert, leading him out of the bullpen and straight into the elevator with a comforting pat on his shoulder and a cheerful, “Come again soon!”

Constance remains standing in front of Treville’s desk, now, noticing that he never did take Joubert’s advice into consideration and get an earth-toned couch installed in the corner.

(There is, however, a small framed photo of the squad from last year’s Christmas party, the lot of them grinning like doofuses at the camera and more than one of them with their eyes half closed, perched neatly on the far right of Treville’s computer, and Constance feels a trickle of warmth expand in her chest despite everything.)

The door to the office clicks shut behind them and Treville comes to stand behind his desk in front of Constance, looking uncharacteristically apprehensive.

Keep reading

Carl Pruitt was a killer in life and appears to have carried that over into death. After discovering his wife in bed with another man, he attacked the pair and, after his wife’s lover escaped out of the window, he strangled his wife to death with a metal chain. Shortly after, he shot himself in the head with a pistol.

As if the situation wasn’t tragic enough, it seemed Pruitt was not done with killing. His grave site soon attracted rumours that it was cursed, with people claiming that marks on the headstone and the grass over the plot were marked with strange patterns, seemingly linking together like chains. What was even more alarming was the fact that those who tampered with Pruitt’s grave, either out of anger or curiosity, soon found themselves in fatal accidents:

  • James Collins, a local boy, rode to the grave with a group of friends where he defiantly threw a rock at the headstone, damaging it. On the ride back, James seemed to lose control of his bike, picking up a huge amount of speed before crashing into a tree. The bike’s chain was found wrapped around his neck.
  • James’s mother, distraught at her son’s death, took an axe and seriously damaged Pruitt’s grave with it. Several days later she was hanging laundry out to dry when she slipped and became tangled in the thin chain she was using as a clothes line, where she was strangled to death.
  • A farmer passing by in a horse-drawn carriage with his family declared that the story of the curse was nonsense and fired his pistol at the headstone, damaging it. The horses then became panicked and dashed, and while his family jumped to safety, the farmer was thrown from the carriage. He collided with some of the carriage’s trace chains, breaking his neck.
  • Two police officers, likely humouring the increasingly hysterical locals, went to the grave to investigate the rumours. They took several pictures of themselves with the grave, with one officer laughing about how ridiculous the legend was. As they drove away, they became aware of a ball of light following their car. Growing increasingly panicked, they sped up in order to escape it, soon losing control of the vehicle and smashing into a fence. One officer was thrown from the car with minor injuries, but the other – the officer who had been ridiculing the legend – was nearly decapitated by a fence chain that wrapped around his neck.

These are not the only deaths reported. In all incidents, there are several things in common: there is usually some disrespect towards the grave, if not physical damage; the victims are always found with severe neck injuries; the thing that inflicted the injuries, no matter the circumstances, is always a chain; and finally, the headstone, no matter how severely damaged, is always completely unmarked after the person’s death. 

It is, admittedly, very rare that spirits can harm the living, and spirits killing the living is almost unheard of. However, when it comes to the grave of Carl Pruitt, it’s best not to take chances.

Elorcan Possessive Billionaire AU part 1

Summary: Elide wants out of Morath CO. Lorcan wants in.

  • rob·ber bar·on [noun]

a person who has become rich through ruthless and unscrupulous business practices (originally with reference to prominent US businessmen in the late 19th century)

Three Years Ago

Las Vegas, Nevada, United States

Elide hummed as she flipped through the stacks of paperwork, filing them into the respective cabinets. With brutal efficiency, she re-organized all of her uncle’s loose papers and re-wrote all of his scribbles of writing other business mergers deigned to look over.

“Elide! My coffee!” Her Uncle Vernon roared into the intercom, thick syllables rasping out. The machine’s blaring grated against her ear drums at it whirred off. Slamming the last cabinet shut, she locked up, and headed towards the kitchen. Not only was she the secretary, but the kitchen staff as well—and the event coordinator, personal relations specialist, and treasurer.  

Because she was Vernon’s only employee; everyone knew his ruthless practices:  With low wages, long business hours, and little respite, Morath Company frequented as the one of the business that still practiced brutal techniques, not only through the use of vertical and horizontal integration, but also through the filled corruption of scandals and feuds. No one dared to work for him save herself—ruined and crippled and chained to her Uncle.

Until she turned eighteen years old, she could not legally walk away from her guardian. When that long-awaited time came, she knew Vernon would have finally found a way to hold her permanently within his grasp. The wait drew anticipation within her, a source of murky hope. Unclear her future may be, but it had to be better than to slave away.

She hummed softly to herself, swaying on her feet as best as she could. By the time she had delicately carried the cup of steaming coffee into Vernon’s office, he had moved on into requesting an apple fritter, declaring he’d slash half of her pay for being too slow. Again.

Elide had merely bit her lip, and wobbled out of the office.

Maybe if he had hired more employees, Vernon Company would ruin more smoothly. Maybe if he had increased her pay, she would have more motivation to work harder. Maybe if he hadn’t chained her into his office when she first worked there, she wouldn’t move so slow.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Never affirmatives, always questioning.

Always dreaming for the future, always living in the nightmare.

Vernon had slapped a new assignment on her desk by the time she returned her little work room. Elide inhaled sharply through her nose as Vernon instructed her to organize his latest dealing with the EPA in convincing them to grant them permission to build an oil well near the Mississippi. She wanted to say no and protest the outright disgust that the risk of the oil spill and build up of a harmful infrastructure for the environment was not a potential investment—especially as a distributary channel.

But she had learned the hard way to keep her mouth shut. It was the only way to prolong the pain. To bite her tongue was to save skin, but drive her mind into pieces. What she could eat, wear, love—all aspects restricted to her Uncle, her last living family tie. Of all strung love, the sneers had snipped away the strings of bent loyalty. Only time remained as her closure.

Her fingers traced the outline of her calendar, nails tapping the date of her eighteenth birthday.


Smoothing down her business skirt, she scheduled a phone conference with the EPA and placed that vapid smile onto her face. A blank face for the future clean slate.

She was Elide Lochan, and she would find a way out of this prison, coming in all shapes and sizes conjured by the metal at her ankle and bars in her mind.

Until then, she would play with Vernon.

Los Angeles, California

“Dammit!” Rowan cursed. “How did we lose this rutting business deal with the EPA? Our policies ally with their every move.” The desk splintered from impact with his fist.

Fenrhys threw his hands up in the air. “Why—how—are we losing our connections all to the horrid Morath Company?”

“Stop bloody shouting!” Gavriel shouted, pulling the roots of his hair. “We need this to work. So stick your nose back in the desk and breathe.”

Vaughan pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled his full cup of herb tea in one swallow. The others either paced around the room in hopes of releasing their anger while the others stormed out. The anger radiated within the room, a broken instrument victim of the feats of reckless runned reactions.

“Does it look like I give a flying fuck?” Lorcan snarled. “Maeve is blackmailing us again. If we don’t get this deal, she’ll rip apart our company for sure.” The duty to hang onto the shred of their independence hung volatile among them.

Fenrhys slammed his head against the desk rather violently, again and again, until the noise created a short cacophony. Gavriel grabbed his shirt’s collar and tossed him against the wall. “Stop acting like a child.”

“Obviously they have a mastermind in there,” Rowan said, ignoring his companions, and the rumblings of complaints. “Someone with the brains and words. The persuasion and the manipulation.”

“Someone with more hold than Maeve,” Lorcan mused.

“Impossible,” Gavriel snapped, ignoring Fenrhys’s sulking. “Maeve has been controlling us for the past damned ten years. You can’t get more powerful than that.”

Vaughan rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like we’re at the top of the hierarchy.”

Fenrhys narrowed his eyes at him, rubbing his jaw. “Who’s side are you on?”

“It doesn’t matter. We need to start searching through Morath’s database and narrow down the selection of employees and see who we’re going to kidnap. Use him to our advances. Bribe him to stay quiet. Then release him if his heart still beats.” Lorcan stalked towards the computers and flipped on all the switches, feeling the familiar humming of electricity under his fingertips. His dark eyes flickered to the lines of codes, full of simplicity past the facade of complexity.  

“Kidnap?” Gavriel demanded, rising from his worn seat.

Lorcan slowly turned towards his cadre, sparing them a feral glance. “Did I stutter?”

Rowan swore, and strode next to the whirring computer. “If Maeve finds out the prisoner we capture, she’ll wire him. Transform him. Manipulate him.”

“You’re going along with this?” Gavriel scowled. “Break a plethora of laws, so cross another?”

Lorcan tensed, his fingers flying across the keyboard, clacking away lines of code. Stiffness coated every inch of him, but he merely growled lowly in warning.

Vaughan shook his head, ignoring the amber-eyed male seething. “Maeve won’t find out. Not if she sees it as a conquest and nothing more. If one of us…show interest in him, then this scandal would not arouse suspicion.”

Fenrhys coughed. “You aren’t suggesting—”

“One of you will seduce CEO Vernon’s head informants,” Lorcan clipped out. “Whether male or female, I do not care. But you will make it happen.”

Fenrhys bristled as all heads turned towards him.

The Las Vegas Strip, Nevada

Work had drained her, ten hours of relentless scribbling and talking, full of sweet, empty words. If only the interviewed her insides and intentions, then would they see the black water running through her, flooding her lungs. Every breath tasted of the lies of liberty and poison of power.

The lust filled looks washing over her body was nothing new. Neither was hurrying through the less dense streets where lamp light rays flickered away into ceased existence.

The moment Elide walked down the alley, she knew something was wrong. The night was a calm tranquility harboring deeper secrets than the sun’s horizon, but never did it fade into utter silence.

Something was off.

She wormed through her bag until she palmed her pepper spray, and slowly inched up her skirt where her laid strapped against her thigh. No one, not even Vernon, knew that she carried weapons with her.

Except Manon. The cunning mafia leader had taught her how to survive on the streets when she’d save Elide from near assault after she was caught in the after-effects of a crossfire. Howls had filled the air, snarling and savagery whipping around her.

But this was a silent, sinister after thought. A rattling her bones left hollowness seeping through her.

Stone from the slanted roof clattered to the floor on her left, and Elide froze.

“Shit,” a male’s voice said.

“Shut up, Fen—”

The entire roof collapsed, and Elide let out a shriek as the stones hit the floor along with bodies.

Beautiful, male bodies. The most beautiful creatures she’d ever seen. Flesh did not scare as they rose from the ground, dark abominations with crooked halos. The closest—she assumed was Fen—held up his hands in protest.

“We come in peace,” he said, his voice a low melody.

But dark and dangerous.

Another dark-haired figure next to him snickered out, “Hey, props that she’s a girl.”

The shape of another male appeared from behind him, this one formed with broader shoulders and arms corded with sheer muscle. His fall had ripped apart his black-pressed shirt, a thin line of blood trickling across his chest. He snorted at his companion’s statement, rubbing his jaw with his large hands. A rough-hewn face met her own trembling posture, her bottom lip threatening to spill.

Yet—never had injuries looked so magnificent. Never had the darkness so called to her. Never had she tasted freedom.

Elide mentally slapped herself. Bit down on her tongue. Gripped the pepper spray tighter.

“What do you want?” She managed.

The male raised an eyebrow, his midnight black hair rippling with the night. “What I want to know, Elide Lochan, is why you’re the only person working for CEO Vernon.”

Elide Lochan trembled. No one knew that—no one. Vernon had even coded millions of nonexistent names with false identities into his computer to seem as if he had millions under his command as his last action of actual work. No one could re-route that direction and clear the coding and decipher the assortment of jargon.


A mocking bow. “Expert hacker, Lorcan Salvaterre. And CEO of the Cadre Companies.”


Jakarta, Indonesia

Elide wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, sighing as the beads of sweat continued to run down her forehead. California knew storming deserts and tepid springs, but Indonesia oozed humidity that had each of her pores leaking in response. 

Pressing her bag closer to hip and grasping the clasp tightly, she weaved through the bustling streets. Vendors leaned forward at her sides, nimble hands flashing forward, the town the perfect hole to pickpocket. Vibrant cloths and teeming displays glamoured the wiped-down fronts. Every smile and wave of a hand served as a distraction as the unsuspecting pockets or zippers opened, only for seconds later, curses to fill the air as victims realized their foolishness. 

Elide reasoned she would be the same victim to the games if she weren’t a werewolf. 

Her hands instinctively enclosed around a wrist, and squeezed.
A little boy fell out of a stall, his face beet red. A warm wind had his long locks of dark curls slapping across his face, coated with black streaks of grime and dust. 

As Elide gripped him, her eyes absorbed the thin scars painting his scrawny arms.“Who did this to you?” Elide murmured softly, her other hand firmly tightening its hold on her bag, ignoring the rest of the curious eyes peeking from behind the tapestry stall.

The boy shook his head, hitting some of the hanging threats of rainbow hues. “Can’t say.” His other hand flailed out and pantomimed zipping his lips. 

She slowly sniffed the air, narrowing down the scents. Of all the vendors in this street, this particular stall held the only one inhabited by werewolves—young ones, to be precise, which was odd considering the fact not one smelled rogue. Lest the laws forbid it, any pack forbid young wolves, prone to be subject as pawns or used as threats, wander alone.

“Where’s your alpha?” Elide asked, and slipped her fingers around a pendant in her bag. Yanking it out, and angling her body closer to the stall, she palmed the ruby.The boy’s eyes widened, his other hand reaching out.

Elide retracted the gem. “Alpha?” 

The boy loosed a small, defeated sigh. “Dunno. Probably killing or fucking.”

Her eyes widened. A sound escaped her throat. “Are you sure?”

The boy’s eyes turned dark. “Alpha killed mother. Alpha fucked sister. Alpha does same to others.”

Elide knew by the sweeping undercurrents of bitterness and acerbic taste in the tongue that the boy’s sister simply hadn’t been taken without strand of dignity or consent. It seemed she had come across one of the boundless alphas, spending wiles and wills on the wild mind rather than the collective security of duty. Her insides shuddered, her skin prickling in sorrow for the fate of the pack, for only the true chaotic cursed ruled in this new era. “What’s your name? I’m Elide.” She knew it was a risk to expose herself openly like that, but by the boy’s fragile state, he wouldn’t be able to fully mind-link his alpha that another werewolf not from his pack set on his claimed territory. By tomorrow, she’d completed her mission and be sailing back towards California.

It’d been too long before she had been in the eastern hemisphere, where two years ago, no alpha pack had deigned to rule over the torrid terrain and scorching soils of Jakarta. Only the ruined would dare claim the chance to tame the lands.

“I’m Nox.” The boy blushed. “Nox Owens.”

Elide released her grip and slid the ruby into the boy’s hand. Before he could disappear behind the fluttering, threaded colors of clarity and brightness, Elide leaned in, whispering, “Don’t grow bitter, Nox, but better.”

She set off for the streets, attempting to cover her scent with newfound vigor—her only supposed gift for her runted wolf side. Hiding in rabbit burrows did have advantages, but brought out whispers of disgust and pity to those who saw her other form. If she completed her unspoken task easily, then she’d be out of the ground quicker. Intruding on another’s territories had never been one to her liking, unlike Aelin’s boldness. Being the one of the several Alpha females must have had its perks, a craving Elide would never have fulfilled.

Hurrying up the steps into a small building with a slanted roof, she pushed past the wooden door, the blast of the cranked of air conditioner eliciting a satisfied sigh. Footsteps rounded from the corridor, and Elide grinned as she stared at the familiar white-haired acquaintance, dressed in the ever trademark dark clothes. 

“It’s good to see that Aelin hasn’t quite roughened you up yet,” said Manon, twirling her favorite blade in her fingers. “I’ve not got much on my end except for an Alpha Lycan settling here in the wastes.”

Elide unpacked her bag, pouring out the sparkling jewels for later bartering and bribing. “A Lycan?”

The more feral and wild kind of werewolves in the supernatural world, Lycans dominated over packs and reigned as royalty. Feared by most younger vampires and worshipped by regular werewolves, Lycans challenged the social order of the supernatural system. She’d met not just five three years ago, but one certain dark-eyed Lycan well enough to wish herself dead and nothing but dust in the earth; an encounter enough to drive her into a frenzied state of one she’d never envisioned herself, the simplicity rested in certainty.

“I saw a little pup today,” she murmured. “Alone in the streets.” The urge to protect the small one had rammed repeatedly in her head, ringing with resonance within every crevice. The lost, wide eyes reminded her of a younger version of herself, afraid and in awe of the wide world who offered terrors and tranquility. A desperation had flashed through him beyond that draped curtain of fear.

“This Lycan’s known to treat omegas poorly.” Manon rolled her shoulders. “He may not give a lick about what happens to those who toil in soil, but his warriors form a force of sheer strength.”

“Which is why your Thirteen still haven’t drive him away?” She had an inkling of feeling running through her veins, a snap of hopefulness thrumming through her. Manon’s silence was enough, and Elide rolled an amber stone across the table. The white-haired female easily caught it in her hands, rubbing the smooth surface. As a witch, her stance held hold over other supernatural creatures, only challenged by the ancient throng of individuals, including the older vampires who had seen the early revolutions of barred freedom and processed colonialism. 

“Which Lycan are we dealing with?” asked Elide, for the true forest bred creatures of the night called Lycans numbered to a few to be counted on hand’s fingers. Each reigned deadly in their own particular ways, each a foe to be reckoned with, each immortal and an aura of powerful. 

The leader of the primeval witch clan snapped her teeth—not at the fellow wolf who held youthful ebullience hidden within the shaded depths of dark orbs, a drawn and drab curtain across that flaring spark of cunning, restrained lore, but at the thought of the Lycan in her wasted lands. Manon crossed her arms. “This Lycan has dared to claim my territory as is, infiltrating my streets and my rings. I’m losing my contacts in a flushed drain.”

“What does this have to do with Aelin sending me here?” If gathering intel was all that was required, then she’d be heading back home to the sunny, albeit windy, shores of California within no time.

Manon gripped the stone tightly, the sharp noise of cracking piercing the air. “No,” the witch said slowly, opening her palm. Elide watched the cracks of the reddish brown hues fall listlessly to the floor, a distant reminder of the salted liquid running through her and scorching her mind. “You need to seduce Lycan Lorcan Salvaterre.”

A heartbeat of silence, then Elide coughed, clutching her chest. Pain sweltered through her, rivulets of rage racing across her vision, clear as the freshwater without a facade of fiction. Lorcan Salvaterre, the newest, most dangerous and wild Lycan that had appeared out of nowhere three years ago, the one who had shaken the very soils of her roots. The phantom bite at her neck flared at the name, her entire body shaking and trembling, the memories of the madness running amuck her mind.  

Time healed the blemished bruises and scrapes of scratches, but only bred the psychological damages burning and branding her insides. 

“Elide!” Manon called sharply, shaking her shoulders firmly, halting the flood of feelings. “Do you accept the deal?”

The figure of a rough-hewn face emerged through the fog of recollection, onyx eyes boring into her soul, warm hands skimming her skin, sending sparks through her. A dance of danger and dignity, her body a violin to his tune, unleashed and forbidden. The crescendo of emotions that had ruled her into the haunted female—werewolf—that she was today.

“Yes,” Elide managed to gut out, a sick smile spreading across her sunken eyes. Riled revenge spun, a chance of millions emerging through the unsolicited closure of three year’s time. She didn’t have to ask why the new type of mission when another vice wormed through her. “I accept your deal, Manon.”

It was time to return the forged game of unforgotten secrets and tempted betrayal—one in which no longer pawn reigned as herself, but the CEO of the Cadre Company, Lorcan Salvaterre, the robber baron of her heart. 

A retribution for what Lorcan Salvaterre had done to her three years ago.

anonymous asked:

What's your take on Pycelle? Is he like Ser Arys, genuinely trying to fulfill his vocation, but partisan due to personal preferences & legit admiration? Corrupt and bought? A guy with a secret agenda, like Varys? A guy out for self-aggrandizement, like LF, going along with the faction that offers the best chance? Some other? WoI&F shows he gave props to Tywin in his reports to the Citadel, possibly influencing the pro-Lannister slant of the narrator. What does that suggest about him?

Pycelle is a genuine Tywin fanboy, and believing Tywin is the bestest ever, serves the agenda he believes Tywin would want.

Of all the mourners, Grand Maester Pycelle had seemed the most distraught. “I have served six kings,” he told Jaime after the second service, whilst sniffing doubtfully about the corpse, “but here before us lies the greatest man I ever knew. Lord Tywin wore no crown, yet he was all a king should be.”

- Jaime I, AFFC

Not a Lannister fanboy, as becomes clearer the more he interacts with Tyrion and Cersei. A Tywin fanboy. And a completely transparent one as well. Look at how he maintains implausible denial when Gregor Clegane starts raiding the Riverlands.

Grand Maester Pycelle rose ponderously from the council table, his chain of office clinking. “Ser Marq, with respect, you cannot know that this outlaw was Ser Gregor. There are many large men in the realm.”

“Why should Ser Gregor turn brigand?” Pycelle asked. “By the grace of his liege lord, he holds a stout keep and lands of his own. The man is an anointed knight.”

“A false knight!” Ser Marq said. “Lord Tywin’s mad dog.”

“My lord Hand,” Pycelle declared in a stiff voice, “I urge you to remind this good knight that Lord Tywin Lannister is the father of our own gracious queen.”

- both from Eddard XI, AGoT

Pycelle’s proposed solutions are either having the complaining Riverlords and Tywin sort it out themselves, or Ned sitting on his hands and waiting for Robert to get back from his hunt. Both solutions favour Tywin over anyone else. It’s painfully obvious. So obvious even Ned starts snarking about it.

Then we get into material with Tyrion.

“As you command. How many men should I take?”

“Why, all of them.”

Vylarr stood like a man made of stone. It was Grand Maester Pycelle who rose, gasping, “My lord Hand, that cannot… your father, Lord Tywin himself, he sent these good men to our city to protect Queen Cersei and her children…”

- Tyrion VI, ACoK

If Tywin sent those men, how could anyone even think to dispose of them otherwise? The most damning bit of information comes out in that chapter too.

Pycelle’s breathing was rapid and shallow. “All I did, I did for House Lannister.” A sheen of sweat covered the broad dome of the old man’s brow, and wisps of white hair clung to his wrinkled skin. “Always… for years… your lord father, ask him, I was ever his true servant… ‘twas I who bid Aerys open his gates…

I mean, holy crap. Pycelle’s there to advise Aerys, and he here admits to a flagrant violation of that vow - with that phrasing, it’s clear he didn’t think Tywin was there to help Aerys. So when he says things like this…

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. “My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now[.]”

- Eddard VIII, AGoT

…laughing bitterly seems like the appropriate response.

Politically, Pycelle is nothing but toxic. About the best you can say for him is that he seems to be a skilled doctor.

The Grand Maester spread his hands in a gesture of helpless sorrow. “[Jon Arryn] came to me one day asking after a certain book, as hale and healthy as ever, though it did seem to me that something was troubling him deeply. The next morning he was twisted over in pain, too sick to rise from bed. Maester Colemon thought it was a chill on the stomach. The weather had been hot, and the Hand often iced his wine, which can upset the digestion. When Lord Jon continued to weaken, I went to him myself, but the gods did not grant me the power to save him.”

“I have heard that you sent Maester Colemon away.”

The Grand Maester’s nod was as slow and deliberate as a glacier. “I did, and I fear the Lady Lysa will never forgive me that. Maybe I was wrong, but at the time I thought it best. Maester Colemon is like a son to me, and I yield to none in my esteem for his abilities, but he is young, and the young ofttimes do not comprehend the frailty of an older body. He was purging Lord Arryn with wasting potions and pepper juice, and I feared he might kill him.”

- Eddard V, AGoT

But even that skill is turned towards Tywin’s service. Pycelle, suspecting Cersei had Jon Arryn poisoned, called a halt to purging and let Jon Arryn die. If Cersei did it, it was probably what her father would want, and Tywin’s never wrong about what’s best for the realm. Perfectly consistent.

7/27 (deluxe edition) inspired plots — PART ONE

  • THAT’S MY GIRL     ❝ destiny said you gotta get up and get it, get mad independent and don’t you ever forget it. ❞   

muse a has always been very sports inclined, jumping from one to another just to try them all out. football, tennis, basketball, swimming. but none of them seemed to be it for her, none of them completed her nor did she feel like she belonged. until she started boxing. her parents didn’t really approve of her aiming to become a professional boxer, especially not with all the risks and severe injuries she could obtain if one of her rivals hit her with too much force in an specific place. but muse a was never want to quit so she persevered with her technique and skill as best as she could in her own and then moved to los angeles to begin a real career and find a manager. something that didn’t prove to be easy since training women wasn’t a business many would dive into. after many stumbles, muse a finds a new manager who starts getting her fights that she wins easily. as she starts gaining a reputation for her quick hits and ko’s, she meets muse b in one of the high ranking fights of the year. muse b is quite the experienced and skilled fighter which makes their match one of the most awaited. the general public pits them against one another, betting for who they think will win. but it’s after they talk that they realize they may have a lot more in common than just boxing.

  • WORK FROM HOME  —   ❝ let’s put it into motion, imma give you a promotion. i’ll make it feel like a vacay, turn the bed into an ocean.

muse a is a very well known ceo of a wealthy enterprise, also known to have an entire chain of smaller business and offices all around the country. authoritative and ruthless in business, she’s taken down rival companies by destroying others who defied her or her company before. never one to go down without a fight. add muse b, who has just started as an intern at her company and has been assigned as her new personal assistant after she fired the last one in a fit of rage. muse b quickly and efficiently gains what could be considered her respect since he always gets everything done in an instant. muse a has never really looked at any of her employees with anything other than despair, perhaps a smirk if they did their job right. but with the young man it’s different, he’s quite efficient and handsome, so it’s not a bother to have im around her at all times. he slowly gains her trust and one night working late, something happens that crosses the line and changes their dynamic completely. there’s tears from muse a, despair and ache in her expression and it’s something she hasn’t shown in a long time. muse b happens to be there, as he always is, and tries his best to offer a shoulder to cry on. as it turns out, they end up in quite a different method of making her feel better by sleeping together. they begin an affair of sorts, sneaking around with quick fucks in her office or meeting room. muse b gets a taste of her life, wealth and a penthouse amongst them. little does muse a know that muse b is in reality the heir to her company’s biggest rising rival and only started his intership as a means to infiltrate hers and bring her down.

  • THE LIFE  —   ❝ no stress, baby you can find us getting down on a beach in dubai. pool side, sipping on a mai tai. double up, run it back in my mind.

muse a and muse c were always very adept to music, always singing along to the most ridiculous songs and pretending to play the air guitar or air drums. as they got older, they spent their free time learning how to play different instruments. guitar, bass, drums, keyboard. they did their best in muse a’s old garage but they lacked singing ability so they decided to find a vocalist, they wouldnt be the first band to start off in a garage filming youtube covers to stardom. casting after casting they finally found muse b, who was amazing. their youtube channel started gaining popularity as they posted more and more covers of different genres. near the end of their senior year of high school, they received news from a label that wanted to see them play live for them in los angeles to sign them. and they did, getting a contract and beginning their journey as a real band. it started slow for them, playing here and there a few gigs. until they were up to open for a more known band on tour with them, which brought them new fans and recognition. along the way and in between tours, muse a and muse b started getting closer to each other from how much time they spent together. and, after a while, they became involved. it was all for fun, kisses here and there while laughing and enjoying themselves. however, becoming involved was a risk for the band as a whole because if they ended up in bad terms it would put everything in jeopardy. muse c was always worried, but making sure muse a didn’t end up with a broken heart. since muse b was high off the fame and the fans, previosuly involved with some of them. it was a rollercoaster of emotions. and muse c got fed up one day, telling muse b to knock it off and stop fucking with muse a. however, in the heat of their argument, they kissed and slept together. muse a and muse c had always been best friends, but muse a was in love with muse b who had just slept with muse c. it was all a mix to an epic shitstorm.  ( could be poly )

  • WRITE ON ME  —   ❝ write on me, give me some wings i’ll fly. love the way you tat me up, i’ll never change my mind. ❞

muse a recently went through a really bad break up, to the point she was really depressed and lonely holed up in her apartment. she lost her job, contact with her friends and her family was far away to know or support her at all. she fell into a pit of darkness that she didn’t know how to get out of. muse b was going to pick up their things from their ex’s place to move back into their new apartment, which happened to be the one in front of muse a’s. in the midst of moving in, muse b knocked on muse a’s door to ask one of their new neighbors a few simple questions about the building and if the water not working was just a problem in their new apartment or others too. at seeing muse a’s sad demeanor and the light in their eyes so dim, besides her obvious apparence of someone who doesn’t care anymore, muse b was concerned and offered to talk. at first, muse a refused, wanting to be alone and muse b relented. it wasn’t until a few weeks later that muse b had to ask muse a for help with something on their apartment that they didn’t start hanging out. it took a while for muse b to convince muse a to just chat. they began spending more time together, binge watching a ton of tv shows from both of their wishlists and eating their weight on junk food. slowly, muse a opened up to muse b and their friendship cherished from it. they became really good friends, helping them heal from their respective break ups and finding a safe place in each other.

  • I LIED  —   ❝ you’re the only one that’s showing me the thrill. you’re the only one that’s giving me these chills. no ex in the past could open up my eyes, thought i found the one every time. ❞

muse a was what you’d call your typical troublemaker, always being the talk of everyone in his old high school. breaking hearts, getting into trouble. that’s all he did, bad choices seemed to follow him everywhere. he was brilliant though, getting good grades even if he skipped most of his classes or earned detention more times than he’d admit. it was exactly in detention where he met most of his friends, danger and recklessness seemed to tie to one another and bring them all together. they were known to wreck havoc wherever they went. fast forward high school and muse a was working part time a bunch of jobs to make ends. his appearence still resembled what he used to be, tattooes covering his arms and back and a lip ring adorning his face. he was all rough edges and no bite, but still pretended he was. from his old friends, only a couple remained while the others were serving time in jail. or in another state. muse a himself did a couple of years for a really stupid thing they did when they were eighteen. muse a’s best friend had always been a bad influence on him but he didn’t really care. however, when his friend brought his new girlfriend over once and saw how badly he treated her that he seemed to snap on how toxic he really was. for him, there was no redeeeming. but the girl seemed to be a princess, daddy’s little girl who wanted to rebel. muse b, indeed being the spoiled princess she appeared to be no matter how much she wanted to mask it by wearing too much make up, combat boots and a leather jacket. muse a became protective for some reason, going as far as calling out his friend for his behavior with her. seeing that didn’t work, he went straight to muse b, telling her she should leave him and get out, still have a decent life. but she refused, instead kissing him and becoming involved behind muse a’s best friend’s back. it was dangerous and, after a while, muse a asked muse b to run away with him. but neither muse a’s friend nor muse b’s parents were okay with them together and wanted them as far as away as possible.

  • ALL IN MY HEAD (FLEX)  —   ❝ dimming the lights just so that they don’t blind us. so tongue in cheek when we’re laying on roses but you’re touching my skin and you’re leaving me hopeless .

muse a is tired of how repetitive and boring her life seems to have become when she used to be lively and expecting so much from the future. stuck in the same day job and routine once she gets to her apartment so during the summer she decides to go on a roadtrip. she was going to do one when she graduated but never happened, so why not do it now? she packs up the essentials in her car and sets destination to the other side of the country. in her journey, she meets muse b in the first state she makes a pitch stop at. muse b needs a ride to the same exact city muse a has set her destination at and after hitting it off so quickly after meeting each other muse a invites her to tag along. they travel through small towns and cities no one would have known the names of. attending festivals and parties as they go, enjoying themselves and the weather. it’s easy to get lost in the frenzy of their road trip, inhibitions gone and emotions on an all time high. they border the coast so they can enjoy the beach as well while working on their tans. somewhere down the line, with lots of booze and a cozy getaway on the beach they kiss. it feels like second nature for them to be involved but when their trip comes to an end , arriving finally at their destination comes their biggest issue yet. muse a lives all the way across the country while muse b’s supposed to stay in the city. which means, they’re bound to break up, or are they?

lifting from office stores

okay hoes, take a seat because i’m about to rock your lil worlds. 

okay, maybe not, but i worked in a big chain store (office depot) for over two years, and let me tell you - it it easy as hell to just fuck the entire store up.

  • first things first: every store is different. i worked in two different locations in two different cities, and there are major similarities and differences in each. SAME: cams on the ink and some tech. managers care more about ink more than their children. that shit is expensive as hell, and easy to lift depending on the policies in the store. if they are in the security boxes: you are out of luck my friend, unless you can get your hands on the spider or alpha key to unlock them. they are practically indestructible. my coworkers and i would throw them against the walls and they would just bounce. other than tech, cams throughout the store are bound to be few and far between, if there are any at all. seriously, find a blind spot and conceal in your purse, and you can get enough pens to last you until you graduate with your college degree. DIFFERENCES: obviously locations. it depends on the area that you’re in when you go inside, because it determines how you’ll dress and be viewed by the employees. watch your cams. they might not be just in tech. i’ve seen them in back corners and above the hallway to the restrooms before, but those aren’t common where i’m from. just be careful.
  • things that are easy to lift: pens. markers. sticky notes for days. phone cases that are not in security boxes, just pop those lil shits open and shove them in your pockets. phone chargers. desk accessories. if your bag is big enough, paper and notepads are a breeze. folders are a joke. do you even know how many pencil bags and things of lead for mechanical pencils i have? it’s insane. literally anything in the store that is not tagged or in a box, grab it.
  • things that are not so easy: i have mentioned before in a post or two the major things i’ve been able to lift. 
    • Printers: easy as pie. literally just grab the thing, box and all, and walk out. these are not tagged. they are easy to boost. they are light, depending on the model you grab. let me tell you how it is the easiest thing you’ll ever do: you ever see those SAs with the mobile phone lookin’ things? those things are a dream. we use them to check inventory in our store, other stores, but the most important thing is that we use them to check customers out in other places in the store other than the registers. This is key. You need to make sure that one of the associates that you talked with has one of these, or you see them, otherwise this approach will not work. If the store associates don’t carry them, the second phase of this “whole lift and carry out” plan will not work. When you grab the printer, you can either put it in a cart and walk around for a bit or walk right on out if there’s nothing else you have to grab. If you are stopped, which is more than likely, shoot them a sincere, nice, genuine smile and tell them this: “Oh, (insert associate’s name here) checked me out already on that phone thing.” These are basically the magic words. We are lazy fuckers. We do not care about double-checking. The son of a bitch behind the counter will wave you out and say have a nice day. Honestly, this method is best used if you’re super confident and have been doing this for a while. I DO NOT RECOMMEND YOU TRYING THIS IF YOU ARE NEW TO LIFTING. PLEASE DO NOT EXPECT THIS TO GO OVER SMOOTHLY. Like I said before, every store is different. If you have a bad feeling, do not go through with it. This method works best in a crowded store, or during a rush for back to school. BACK TO SCHOOL IS ONE OF THE MOST STRESSFUL TIMES OF THE YEAR FOR US. IT IS STRAIGHT BLACK FRIDAY FOR THREE MONTHS. I HATED IT. IT STARTS IN JULY AND GOES THROUGH SEPTEMBER. But use that to your advantage. I haven’t paid for my school supplies in years. YEARS.
    • Desk Chairs: tbh, you can use the printer walk out method with these as well. just bring a cart back to the furniture pad with you, pick out a chair, and walk out with the same line. 
    • Laptop: Okay, this is priceless. A lot of my friends asked me how I got it, but honestly it only works if you have a really, really good friend in the store. My coworker was really into lifting, and we talked about way to get a computer for each of us because our old ones were dying. Computers are held in the back of the store in a cage that is locked and only the managers have the keys. Not the tech guys you see walking around the floor, but the manager on duty.They are the most precious thing that the store has to protect, which is why only select people have access to them. We were a close knit family, my friend, my manager and I. My manager would leave us to close the doors when we closed, and lock everything up, since they were usually counting the money and didn’t want to be distracted. So we used that to our advantage. One night, I came in 5 minutes to close, my manager was already in the back counting the cash, and my friend was working the floor alone. It was a rare and beautiful thing. My friend borrowed the keys to “lock the side doors” and he ran to the cage in the back, unlocked it, grabbed the laptop I wanted, handed it off to me, walked me to the front, and locked the doors behind me. I was home free. It was honestly the biggest thrill of my life, but it’s helped me though homework and classes this semester, and I am so thankful. Now I have a 17″ beauty to blog on and it’s amazing.
    • INK IS ALWAYS TAGGED IN THE BOXES. THEY ADHERE TO THE SIDE OF THE INSIDE OF THE BOXES, AND WILL SET OFF THE ALARM. IF IT ISN’T IN A BOX, IT’S STILL TAGGED. These are usually off-brand or cheaper brands of inks, like Canon, and Epson. HP is always tagged and in a secure box, so those are lil bitches. For the cheaper ones, you can slip it into your purse, and walk out with a crowd or after a small purchase, and keep walking if/when it beeps. 


HAPPY LIFTING BABES, AND IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, FEEL FREE TO ASK ON TIPS AND POLICIES FOR RETURNS AND SUCH. I am here at your disposal, use me how you like. Literally ask me anything.


🔥 A Song of Ice and Fire projectA Gifset per every chapter

↪ A Game of Thrones, XLIII, Eddard XI

Grand Maester Pycelle rose ponderously from the council table, his chain of office clinking. “Ser Marq, with respect, you cannot know that this outlaw was Ser Gregor. There are many large men in the realm.”

“As large as the Mountain That Rides?” Ser Karyl said. “I have never met one.”

“Nor has any man here,” Ser Raymun added hotly. “Even his brother is a pup beside him. My lords, open your eyes. Do you need to see his seal on the corpses? It was Gregor.”

“Why should Ser Gregor turn brigand?” Pycelle asked. “By the grace of his liege lord, he holds a stout keep and lands of his own. The man is an anointed knight.”

“A false knight!” Ser Marq said. “Lord Tywin’s mad dog.”

A fuck-manager story

I work for a popular newsagents/bookshop chain and our head office double checks us on everything from TPC (till-point chocolate sales) to our news accuracy (whether or not we’re sending magazines back on time)

So, for context, we are given money back on magazines we send back to our news depot. If we miss the returns, we lose the money (it’s called shrink waste). As a store, our news accuracy isn’t very good - this due to a few different members of staff not complying with standards and checking the shelves properly.

My store manager went to his annual managers meeting last week and when questioned by our regional manager as to why our news is so bad, my manager offered up my name for sacrifice. Mr holier than thou of course didn’t want to take the blame for not training his staff properly or enforcing staff policies.

tl;dr I almost got fired by the regional director without being told because my manager didn’t want to take the blame

“So officer please, that’s the man who’s destroyed my existence. Yeah, he begged and he screamed just like I did. And for this I was willing to die. It was all I could do to survive.”

“Tess-Timony” - Ice Nine Kills

September 28th, 2017

(I was going through my phone and found this video. So I decided to post it. I cut out the first half of the song/video because a highly intoxicated girl ruined it, but this is the best part of the song anyways.)

[Weiss sits in the library, lovingly watching Ruby trying and failing to sneak up on Blake]

Weiss- [smiles and sighs]

[Jaune walks up and sits next to Weiss]

[Weiss glares]

Jaune- Watching Ruby huh

[The glare does not stop]

Jaune - [sighs] A guy could really fall in love with a girl like her…..

[Weiss’s eyes go red with rage]




-24 hours later- 

[Jaune Arc sits in the middle of Ozpins office, chained to the floor]

Ozpin - And for the crime hacking into the schools computer to aid Cinder in conquering our kingdom, we sentence you to be burnt at the stake

Jaune - WHAT ?! I….I would NEVER [looks around in a panic from Ozpin to Weiss who is standing in the corner] Weiss ! Weiss you have to …!

Weiss- [begins crying] How could you !

Jaune- [horrified shock]

Weiss- I thought we were friends !

[Qrow pulls Weiss into a hug]

Qrow- There there Weiss. He won’t be able to hurt you anymore [shoots Jaune a venemous glare, not noticing Weiss flashing a smirk in Jaune’s direction]

Jaune - SHE SET ME UP 

Glynda- [points at door] Get him out of here ! [mutters under breath] I should have seen this coming after  I found out about him cheating

[Ironwood karate chops Jaune in the back of the neck and drags him out of the room]

[Ruby walks into the room, noticing Jaune as he’s taken out of the room] 

Ruby - Where’s Jaune going ?

[The adults look around uncomfortably]

Weiss- [runs over to Ruby, taking her hands with glee, tear free] A weenie roast ! 

Ruby - Oh ! [smiles] Good for him 

Writing Requests are OPEN

A Very Happy Birthday to the Fabulous abbythebear! I love you, my dear friend. Words cannot express how happy I am that I met you…uh, on the internet that is. Hope you have had a wonderful day filled with cake and smut…oh look, here’s some smut for you! :-)

WARNING: A smattering of swear words, and fluff that devolves into smut, sprinkled with a few bad puns. Unedited, so all mistakes are mine.

Katniss Everdeen is sick of her job at a large chain office supply store. The hours are crap. The pay isn’t worth the hassle. And the employees who work the logistics really get on her nerves. Especially their endlessly cheerful team lead.

Keep reading

Just a gentle reminder to everyone that Tagnuul is just a normal lieutenant in my main verse. He’s one of many loyal LTs that work under Commander Throk, and is the head of the linguistics department, but he is not Throk’s SiC.

The only verse in which he is someone’s Second is Batshit Squad, in which he is Nakul’s SiC, not Throk’s.

Pure Hearted (Chapter 1)

Hey Guys!

So this is a multi-chapter AU fic that I will be writing. I have this posted both on fanfiction and I will make a page for this story on my profile so you can keep up with future chapters. 

This story holds a place in my heart because it is something near to me.

So please enjoy and feedback is always welcomed!

Summary: "I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.“ "You saved me” she said. “That’s more than enough.” Officer Dick Grayson thought he was responding to a disturbance but his instinct told him otherwise. A young woman who has gone through the worsts of the worsts teaches him about the value of life and what it means to be optimistic even in the most darkest times.

Dick blinked several times as he stared back at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He had gotten home around 4:30 in the morning, immediately jumping in the shower, and washing himself off as he watched the blood disappear down the drain.

It had all happened too fast.

Gotham was experiencing another one of its tremendous rain storms and the city had declared a severe thunderstorm warning as he sat in his police cruiser and listened to the scanner.

The clock read 9:40 p.m. and his shift would end in twenty minutes.

The main street he was watching was completely empty and the last car that drove by was another police cruiser.

Dick knew what he signed up for when he attended police academy and knew he’d get late night shifts that consisted of nothing but drinking coffee and eating donuts.

Keep reading

the new royal spymaster
  • Corvo: It is my solemn duty as Royal Protector to announce the new Royal Spymaster and welcome him to the court. He is well-known by many of you and I trust you will aid him in his new duties as you have with me.
  • Corvo: *puts on the Spymaster's chain of office*
  • Corvo: It's me.
  • *everybody applauds*
  • Corvo: For my first official act as Royal Spymaster I will now drink eight bottles of King Street Brandy in three minutes
  • Emily: *hurriedly getting up from the throne and taking the first bottle of brandy out of Corvo's hands* Nope. No you won't. No you won't. Because if you do'll die.