#(I took her to the vet a few months ago and they charged me several hundred $$s)

[violetclarity]

not me considering forging my cat’s vaccination records so that I can move into my new place without having to take her to the vet...

#listen I know vaccination is important I'm not an anti-vaxxer #but she gets vv scared at the vet w/o me #and I'm not allowed to go in w her bc of covid #I don't want to give her meds or have her sedated just 4 a check-up #and like yes her rabies vaccine is expired but you know what she also doesn't do? go outside. #(I took her to the vet a few months ago and they charged me several hundred $$s) #(even though they didn't actually DO ANYTHING bc she wouldn't come out of her crate) #me: sobbing about how difficult it is to own a pet when you don't own your home

[kangaroo-sniper-imagine]

Mercs who didn’t pay attention to their family trees

-I’m only doing a few mercs, cuz otherwise this would be huge-

Scout and Spy

When Miss Pauling introduced their newest recruit, The Thief, everyone was at least interested with the new blood. They were useful on the field; fast, silent, deadly, quickly able to steal the info case and dashing back to safety in record time. They were closed off at first, like many are in a new environment, but quickly opened up as soon as they were settled in.

The only person who didn’t quite connect with them was Spy (shocker). There was something about the new recruit that stuck him odd, something familiar about them that he couldn’t just put his finger on. The Frenchman’s son felt similarly.

“It’s like I already know ‘em; which is weird ‘cuz I’m dead certain we’ve never met before.”

It wasn’t until several weeks later, as the ten of you all were joined in the rec room, just enjoying each other’s company after a successful match. Jacque sat in the corner with Mick {not to derail but I totally think that they’re secret best friends who roast each other on the field}, both sipping at their drinks and idly talking as Jeremey sat with them, having a loud conversation with Jane from across the room.

Then they heard it. A deep, throaty chortle that was extremely unattractive, coming from across the room, coming from you

Both Jacque and Jeremy froze, the sound too familiar for it to be comfortable, eyes snapping to you, where you were wildly laughing with Travish. The Scotsman was sloshed and laughed along with your, his thundering laughter almost drowning out your own. Almost.

The sniper took a slow sip of his beer as he as well looked upon the commotion. He hummed in thought, and turned to the frozen spy. “Izzit jus’ me,” he drawled, gesturing with is beer can to you, “or do their laugh sound a lot like yours?”

Scout slowly turned to his father, rage in his eyes, but all Spy could do was watch you laugh that awful laugh. His brain slowly connected the evidence, memories of 20+ years ago invaded his mind, a dalliance with a woman who looks shockingly like you, the nose that you share with him and Jeremy, your strange obsession with your appearance, and most damning of all; the shitty laugh that you’ve seem to inherit from Jacque.

With a deep breath, the Frenchman stood up, determined to get out of the room and hide in his abode so he could scream in peace, but the sudden influx of the realization, rather, caused him to faint.

He awoke, what he assumed, several hours later, in a familiar camper bed. In his peripheral, Jacque could see Mick smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper with one hand, a mug of coffee in the other. Without even looking up to confirm that the Frenchman was awake, the sniper spoke.

“Your kids are right pissed at you, mate.”

Jacque cursed.

Heavy and Soldier

Pauling was ecstatic to introduce more help, probably under the impression that this person to pick up the slack the other leaves so that her evenings won’t be filled with killing and covering up murders and thefts. Some young thing with a thick, almost indiscernible accent who spoke rarely and quietly. You were called the Electrician, for your… odd choice of weaponry.

Your gun was one of your own design, one you were very proud of, that rather than bullets shot out electrical charges, either stunning your opponent to help assist another teammate in a kill or give off a charge so intense it kills. You spent most of your free time in your assigned work shop improving your gun’s design and creating new weapons.

More than once, the team would hear a loud scream and the sound of a loud thud, only to come and find your door blown wide open and you stuck in the adjacent wall, hair shocked to stiffness and a new white streak added to your hair. Needless to say, you kept the team on their toes with your eccentricities. For some reason, your antics made Mikhail exceptionally worried. It was a weird knee jerk reaction he had, something that hadn’t flared up since he was younger, watching over his sisters.

About a month after your arrival, Jane caught you in his raccoon infantry pen, cooing over the animals that flocked to you. It was the first time he saw you smile since you’ve gotten there, and the first time he’s seen you out of your combat gear, now you wore a too large tee shirt and denim shorts, toes in the Arizona sand, scratching the chins of the furry animals. Deciding to try his luck, Jane approached you with a bellowing welcome, startling you, but you greeted him back regardless.

Jane noticed how much you liked watching the raccoons play with each other, but noticed you looked sad too.

“What’s the long face for, private?”

Your face pinched. When you spoke your words were slow, not used to English. “They have… family. I do not.” With a heavy sigh, you tried to elaborate. Jane didn’t mind waiting for you to collect your thoughts or your thick accent. Years of hanging out with Travish and Ludwig extremely sloshed had taught Jane patience in regards to others when they’re trying to speak an unfamiliar language.

“Mother was from… Russia? But father was from Norway, and mother went to there with him. When mother and father… died,” Jane’s heart twinged at the way your face fell, “I do not know how to find mother’s family in Russia, and father had no family in Norway. So I stay in Norway.” A beat of silence passed as you scratched the head of a curious baby raccoon that strayed closed to you. “I stay alone.”

Jane busted out crying, pulling you into a bear hug and vowing to be your surrogate family for as long as you want. He made it his mission to figure out who your family is. The first thing he did was write down the name of your parents, fully planning on hunting down your relatives after some good old fashioned American bonding.

Just as he was about to reunite with you after grabbing a baseball form his room, the American ran into Mikhail, who seemed pissed off

“You touch Sasha?” He accused, one large finger jabbing into the soldier’s chest. Jane couldn’t find it in himself to get mad at the accusation, he was a man on a mission to cheer up a sad kid and no angry Red was gonna stop him.

“No time,Sputnik! There’s a sad private who needs a moral boost and a good old game of catch!”

Rage quickly turned to confusion, then mild understanding. “Electrician is sad?”

Soldier gave a speedrun version of your sad backstory, even going as far to show the names of your parents to the Heavy. The Russian surveyed the sheet and he sighed. “That is not how name of mother is spelled.” He informed.

Jane scoffed. “And how would you know?”

Mikhail threw the American an unimpressed look. “Because family name is mother’s name before marriage.”

There was a second of realization.

“... is it a common last name?”

“... nyet.”

“... you might want to call your mother to confirm something.”

“... Heavy just might.”

—-

The next morning, Mikhail knocked on Jane’s door so early in the morning, the vet wasn’t even awake yet already doing his morning exercises.

The American looked up blearily to the Russian, one hand scratching his buzz cut head.

Mikhail looked grim. “Heavy call mother. Mother says that Electrician’s mother is cousin to her.”

Soldier mulled over the information. “So… your mama’s cousin is Private Zappy’s mama, so that makes us-

“Makes ME second cousin.” Mikhail insisted.

With an air of smugness, Jane flashed his left hand, displaying a wedding band. “Then I’m their second cousin in-law.”

Mikhail grumbled in annoyance and rolled his eyes, complaining in Russian. “Right. Sister Zhanna’s big mistake.”

With a sense of new found energy, Soldier stuck his chin up high and began marching towards your room, seemingly not aware that he was in only a pair of his tighty whiteys.

Mikhail sighed again but followed Jane regardless to tell you the news of your newfound family.

Medic (italics is German cuz lets be honest, who wants to translate all that)

After months of complaining to Pauling, asking for more on field medical help, upper management finally relented and hired a new mercenary, some bright young thing going by The Nurse.

You were studious, and compared to Ludwig you were very tamed. You saw this opportunity as a job to perform and not a way to finally experiment legally on people without getting arrested the way Ludwig does. You took your work seriously, dutifully dressing every wound, handing out pain medication, assisting Ludwig in his surgeries. You certainly helped lessen his work load during battle, helping with minor injuries so that the doctor could focus on his Ubercharge and on more serious injuries.

You two were professional to each other; despite showing you weren’t exactly sadistic you never chastised Ludwig for his somewhat cruel experiments, and you were always respectful to him and everyone else around you, which is something that impressed him (considering how noting the rest of the team is).

One day while experimenting on Heavy, you solemnly standing next to the doctor with your face covered like the good little health professional you were, the Medic fuzzed in German, adding, “I need a bone saw.”

Without him translating, you turned to your side and snatched the instrument off the tray, passing it to the doctor.

After a moment of thought, Ludwig spoke again. “You speak German?”

“Ja, I am from Germany after all.”

The russain’s rib finally took the blade and now was slicing easily. “What a coincidence. Which part?”

“Munich, but I left while I was very young when my family moved.” After another brief pause, you add, “I actually wanted to become a nurse because of Munich.

Ludwig didn’t mention that he, as well, came from the same city, rather, he decided to prod you and learn more. It was so rare to meet someone he could have a conversation in his mother tongue with.

“What in Munich made you want to become a nurse?” Reaching into Heavy’s chest with a scalpel, Ludwig began to sever the arteries attached to the heart.

“The University. My family lived nearby, and seeing the students come and go made me want to join them… actually a relative went there. My family was very proud of him and I wanted to go with him, but, ah, I was only a child.” Without being asked, you held out a silver pan that Ludwig deposited the heart.

The doctor started the timer, watching the mutilated chest cavity, waiting for the oregano to regrow due to his most recent experimental ‘medicine’. “Hmm, which relative?”

“Oh, my father’s brother’s wife’s…. something.” You replied idly, fetching a notebook and pencil to record the time. “Nephew or cousin’s nephew or something. It is a distant relation. Lost his license though.”

“Really? How?”

“He removed someone’s skeleton if you can believe it.”

Ludwig’s fist clenched so hard that the stopwatch broke. Dammit, now he has to start the experiment all over again.

#tf2 spy x reader #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy

[thingstrumperssay]

GoFundMe, money and my dog update

TL;DR on money: I appreciate the spreading of my page, but unfortunately I mostly got sketchy messages. (I really didn’t like having to ask for money anyway.) We got a loan, paid off some things, (car and credit card, mostly) got rid of cable (FINALLY) and we’re on a diet of mostly TV dinners that were on sale right now, saving us a few hundred. (All together. We were NOT spending several hundred dollars on food every week.)

TL;DR on GoFundMe: I’ll be adjusting the GoFundMe when I know how I want to do so, but I’m not going to advertise it in public anymore. (Unless I can get one person who I know isn’t sketchy to advertise it for me. Look up “Cob In Need” on Twitter.) My mom’s advertising it on Facebook for me.

TL;DR on my dog: We took her to the emergency vet because of her constant coughing after a storm. They said that the coughing is normal because she’s “coughing out her congestion” from the pneumonia and they sent her home with us. She has an appointment on Friday to double-check her lungs. Also because we waited so long due to an emergency patient (not Fuku) they didn’t charge us. I got into more detail on how she’s doing below.

Money: I deleted the post because of some sketchy messages I was getting on here. My husband got an $8,000 loan, paid off his car and credit card and dumped cable, (FINALLY) saving more than $300/month. (We’re going to do the streaming thing one service at a time, starting with Netflix.)

He’ll probably also see if he can move hospital jobs to get over $5/hour more than what he’s getting now. If not, he’ll see if he can get his insurance either free or cheaper since he’s (barely) getting less than $15/hour. (Minus weekend and overtime pay.)

We also cut our grocery bill by quite a bit just by focusing on TV dinner sales over everything else. They’re small so we can get like, $20 worth of them and we’ll be good for two months. (I’m sick of them but I can’t exactly cook right now anyway since Fuku needs near constant attention.)

As far as my dog goes, (which is what you probably actually care about) there was a storm a couple nights ago that upset her so much she’s still having a hard time controlling her breathing. In fact, I had to stop writing this several times to hold and adjust her. We got so worried that we took her to the emergency vet last night.

They placed her in an oxygen cage and said that they’ll call us. Some... Things happened with another pet, keeping us in the parking lot for a while. (They got rid of the charge because of that.) Her coughing is her “coughing out congestion” from the pneumonia, and she has an appointment to get her lungs checked on Friday.

She is panting a lot right now. I have her on my lap adjusted to clear her airway as much as possible. Because of her grade 6 murmur it’s still possible that she’s also coughing from her heart crushing her trachea, though I’m hoping this isn’t the case. (Of course.) She gets her medicine in about 2 hours, and she usually feels better after.

I need to pee but I can’t move.

#ooc #personal

[thirstofgames]

kitty and the jailbird

#️⃣2️⃣

-IT'S A MATCH-

A blank chat popped open and Damien stared at it for a second. He had honestly not expected it. The girl actually swiped him right. He looked at the clock impatiently; he did not have much time left in the library. There was a loud shout from the hallway, his muscles tensing, ready to hide the phone and bolt at any second.

He regretted that last question right as he pushed send. It sounded so bitter in his head now. It was a dating app after all and she was a good looking young woman.

you there?

...

hello?

busy flirting with your other matches, huh?

And there it was all about to end, the hot topic of his whereabouts. And the swift and cruel rejection that followed. It had already happened one too many times! Could he go through his again? Was it worth it? His palms were sweaty, but he never felt so cold. If the ground could just open up and swallow him whole before she finished asking... 

No, sorry

Just a little surprised we matched

you can unmatch if you want

Well, what I want is to talk with you 😊

Your profile caught my eye

what part?

Your profile pic at first.

Most guys can't pull off the broken, deep and scowling thing

But... looks good on you.

you don't look so bad yourself-

but then I read your description...

and I have to know something

shoot 🙄

It was a simple Yes/No question, but it took Kate way to long to answer. She bit her lip, thinking hard on the possibilities. It was such an unfair question though. She was not going to leave, but was not going to pursue anything with him until she knew what he was in for and how long he was going to be locked up. She'd wasted enough years waiting up on others... 

I'm just a little confused 🤔

Are you really in jail?

you gonna leave if I say yes?

It really depends...

A bittersweet smile spread on his lips. What was he expecting from a girl like her? She probably had a nice job, a supporting family and tons of friends and... an actual future. Why would she even consider wasting her time with him? The little time he had left... Better to just pull off the band aid!

She felt to bad! She hadn't meant to disregard his feelings, but wasn't it fair to let her know what she was getting into? She didn't even know what he was expecting from the conversation they were having... She was curious, but she didn’t want to lead him on.

okay, let's just say...

the orange pants and barbed wire are real

OMG

I have so mane questions 😱

here we go...

What did you do?

Wait, where do you even hide your phone?

STOP!

enough with the interrogation, alright?

I'm just curious...

sure, but i'm more than just a prisoner

a little respect goes a long way

Kate’s heart sank. He was hot, but the prison was a serious issue... She supposed people were not lining up to get to know him. He seemed pretty well rounded and mannered, but he was very defensive about his crime. Did that mean it was something really bad? But he was on a dating app... so maybe he was getting out soon? 

You're right!

I'm so sorry 😓

Let's change the subject

Why don't you tell me what you're looking for

hmmm

What?

i'm thinking...

nobody's really asked me that before

Seriously?

most people stop talking to me when they find out i'm locked up

i don't really blame them. i'm rough around the edges.

She didn't say anything for a while and Damien started wondering if he should just close the damn phone and leave. He should also probably take a break from Lovelink after this... it clearly wasn't doing him any good. Dark thoughts swarmed his mind and he had to close his eyes and head his head back against the bookshelf to get rid of the harrowing feeling. Like he was falling in an endless pit...  

The screen showed him typing and deleting several responses. Kate pursed her lips, impatient. Had she said anything wrong? She’d never spoken to someone who’d been locked up, she was still unsure what could trigger painful memories, or just remind him that he was... not free. But he said he just wanted to chat and his profile mentioned 'deep conversations'... 

Okay, I'm not running away, for now

but...

But I can't really make up my mind

If I don't know anything about you

So...

alright

honestly I'm just looking to talk to someone from the outside

it can get pretty boring in here, just waiting around the clock

Let's be friends then 😊

I'll be your window to the outside world

If that's alright with you...?

Damien sighed on the other end. Beggars can’t be choosers. It was a step in the right direction though. Maybe he was not going to find the love of his life at the very fucking end of said life. He was not living in some fairytale! He was still going to die, alone and forgotten.

But maybe... just a little less alone at the very end of his road. One friend meant more than none and maybe, just maybe... he could tell her his side of the story. Eventually. She seemed patient and understanding enough. Let at least one person out there know he did not murder his own father. 

sure

that's more than most

Of course a pretty thing like her got a lot on attention... She was only chatting up with him because the others were offline- 

but it must have been pretty bad to be such a long sentence

you still can't tell me what the crime was?

look, i've been making my own rules my whole life

you better ask what crimes I DIDN'T do

wow...

i'm no bragging or anything, just letting you know where I'm at

anyways, I'm more interested in what you're all about

what are you doing on an app like this?

Honestly...

I was about to uninstall it right before we matched 😅

Oh

you already found the one?

or no luck at all?

Well, I went on a few nice dates...

i see

Suddenly his experience on the app seemed less awful. Maybe it was not the right place. Or perhaps it was just the place for a misfit like him, here with all the weirdoes and con artists. 

And then they ditched me for their exes

Just my luck 😂

Oh and I swear to god if I see one more vampire 🙄 🙄 🙄 🙄 🙄

vampires?

Yeees

You wouldn't believe some of the things I saw...

OMG, one dude was actually dresses up as a centaur

I...

don't even want to ask

There's also the 'prince' scam going around

Dudes claiming to be the heirs of some  

Made up countries and asking you for money

It wasn't quite a rejection, but it still hurt a little. She already mentioned twice she was only interested in him as friends. She didn't need to spell it out every few minutes! But she was the only one... 

Met some nice people too ☺️

Actually became good friends with some

Which is nice since I just moved here

were did you come from?

Pallay 💜

you're a long way from home

I know 😢

I suppose it was getting kinda lonely

My friends and family come visit when they can

But that's not a lot...

what brought you here?

Got a really good job opportunity

But I didn't quite realize how far away I'd be

So yeah, to answer your question from before...

I'm kinda just chatting with new people

Made more friends than anything else lol

Hope that's aright with you 🤗

A smile crept on his lips. An actual, genuine smile. How long had it been since he had any reason to? God, it felt good to talk to someone! Someone who didn't know him, who didn't shout 'walking corpse' after him, didn't judge him. He almost felt like his old self. Almost. 

i'm cool with that

Great!

Looking forward to getting to know you, Damien 😄

so let's get to it

tell me about yourself

hobbies, favorite food, anything

my hobbies are always changing 🤔

I start something new every month or so

Oh, and I started volunteering at a vet lately

🐱🐶💕

With a friend I made on this app

it suits you

Hmmmmm how would you know?

We've only just met

just a hunch

I could secretly be evil 😈

you couldn't hurt a fly

besides, I've seen evil and believe me

you're not it

I'm guessing you're not going to elaborate on that

Are you?

see, you know me so well already

Smartass 😝

 At lest until she finds out.

And I love food 🤤

Who doesn't? lol

But picking a favorite is like... impossible

I do have one hell of a sweet tooth  🍫🍬🍦

I'm soooo jealous

I miss making my own meals

That's right! You probably just have a cafeteria.

I'm so sorry 😓

it's cool

i'm glad we have something in common

Is there any food you miss?

Wait... was there even steak in that picture? Kate felt her ears burning, the fluffy pajamas studently itching at her skin.

just makin my own in general, being in charge in the kitchen

Damien scrolled quickly through his phone, the memories leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He nearly didn’t send the photo. It felt like so long ago, a different time...a different person. But it felt so good to remember! To be reminded of the more happier moments when he had all his life ahead of him! And showing her a piece of his past may make her curious enough to stick around for a while longer.

He hit Send.

-Tap to download photo-

Oh

Looks... delicious

you like steak? 

Oh yeah, the food 😳

Wish I could have a bite of that hahaha

So not so shy and innocent as she claimed. Good to know. Even if it didn’t lead anywhere, which he had to be realistic about - he was on death row after all - it was still fun. The most fun he’d had in a long while. It felt...nice.

HA!

i wish you could too 😏

The door of the library swung open hitting the opposite wall. The guard in charge could be heard arguing with someone. At least four voices. He had to move fast.

I'm really hungry now 😅

good

Kate stared at the screen, the little green light besides his profile picture going grey. She scrolled through the conversation as if to make sure she hadn’t just imagined it. She tapped the picture he’d sent, a small smile creeping on her lips. He looked so... normal. Well, more like smoking hot, but she expected some kind of dump, or some greasy repair shop, not Greek sculpture level abs. The boy should come with a warning! She was a sucker for bad boys, but had she gotten so bad that she was now considering a fucking convict? What if he was a murderer or something??

shit!

???

someone's coming

gotta hide my phone

talk soon

Be careful! 🙏🏻

Her ice cream, forgotten on the coffee table, had turned to soup.

What had she gotten herself into?

#lovelink #damien jones #kitty and the jailbird #austin russo #counterpart

[amarabliss]

Galahdian Dreams - 9 ( Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

“I want to take her out with us.” Nyx watched as Drautos’ shoulders slowly deflated when he sat down in the chair across from him, “Hear me out…”

“You do realize that the last time you took Y/N out…” He looked at Nyx finally.

“It will different…” Nyx talked over him.

“…was only two months ago and…” Drautos began shaking his head

“And I’m asking this time…” Nyx smiled at him.

“…you got the shit kicked out of you, Nyx!” Drautos stood up leaning on his desk his brow coming together with worry, “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Nyx stared at him for a moment before leaning back shaking his head, “It’s was…one time…”

“One of many that are happening to our people. Your people, Nyx.” Drautos stood up letting out a heavy sigh, “People are beginning to fear leaving their homes…and you want to take Y/N out…not even just out in the city, you want to go out beyond the wall with her.”

Nyx shook his head chewing on his thumb, “Regis cannot keep her locked in here forever.”

“This isn’t about their politics Nyx, this is about the fact that we are not welcome here and you’d be putting both yourselves in the line of fire.” Drautos shook his head, “When are you going to do something?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Nyx raised his voice, “You think that I’m just guarding her because I think it’s fun? I’m doing this because when we came here, we came to see King Malcolm…instead we were met with King Regis…you’re the one who told me to stay under the radar…”

“Well you never showed much interest in your duties until recently.” Drautos sniped back.

Nyx stared at him for a long silent moment before he looked away, “You’re right…I haven’t done anything to help the situation, and I wasn’t very good right after the fall…”

“Nyx…” Drautos sighed hanging his head a little, “I didn’t mean…we understand why it took you so long to get back up. Everyone was beaten down into the dirt right next to you. But we also wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you…we’d be back home, more than likely six feet under.”

Nyx took in a deep breath letting it out slowly as he looked out the window watching a recruit warp up the main pillar before skidding down not connecting his dagger in deep enough, that was gonna hurt. Finally, he came back to Drautos, “I know it’s unconventional…but I’m trying to make Y/N see us…she is our biggest supporter here and she’s willing, no, eager to learn our ways. From what I’ve seen being around her these past few months…she is definitely King Malcolm’s daughter.”

Drautos sat back down looking at him as a small smile of admiration crept onto his face, “You have your mother’s instincts…and your father’s charisma…”

Nyx smiled a little before he spoke, “And was my mother ever wrong?”

“One occasion…” Drautos smirked a little as Nyx’s eyes widened surprised by the admission, “She decided one day it would be a wonderful idea to assign me to the most obnoxious child in all of Galahd…told me to try to whip him into something more than a snot nose brat.”

Nyx rolled his eyes smiling at him, “Just remember…I’m stubborn because you told me not to ever give up.”

Drautos smiled at him before letting out a sigh, “I can get you the paperwork you need to fill out…but I’m not the one who can approve it.”

“Who is?” Nyx watched his mentor take in, if it were possible, a heavier breath.

Several hours later he was standing outside the throne room doors waiting to be summoned before the king. His thumbs kept running over the tips of his fingers in a rhythmic motion as he tried to stay calm. He practiced everything he needed to say over and over in his head ignoring the subtle glares he kept getting from the throne room guards.

Jokes on them, they’re stuck guarding a door that no one would ever get to if the castle was breached. There were enough Glaives surrounding the Citadel that no one would even consider it an option. He didn’t think poorly of the normal guard…it’s just they were dicks…

“Ulric…” He turned to the guard taking in a deep breath, “You’re up.”

He walked into the throne room swiftly to his mark where he kneeled before the king keeping his head low and eyes averted, “Thank you for seeing me, your majesty.”

“I haven’t much time…so we can cease with the formalities.” Regis told him as he stood and began walking down the steps.

“Uh of course.” Nyx was thrown off momentarily by the dismissal as he stood up watching Regis walk down toward him, “I only came to request allowing Y/N to accompany myself and several other Glaives on an outing, outside the wall.”

Regis eyed him as he walked by only giving him a nod to follow, “And what would you be taking my niece out to do?”

“Sailing.” Nyx put his arms behind is back as he walked aside him.

“Sailing? You think it’s an appropriate outing to take? Y/N has never been sailing…” Regis took a folder from an attendant that approached him.

“Her ladyship is very quick to learn; I have no doubt she’ll be fine.” Nyx glanced at him as he sifted through the folder brow creasing, whether it was from the information in his hand or the conversation he would never know, “I believe the outing will do her some good. She’s been feeling trapped…”

“You presume to know how she is feeling?” Regis stopped looking at him sternly, “You are her guard…your job is to protect her, yet you are here asking to see if she can go on a field trip with you…Tell me do you know where my niece is right now?”

Nyx stood there for a moment before he pulled out his phone. Regis scoffed shaking his head as he spoke, “If you don’t know-”

Nyx raised up a finger as he clicked away at his phone. He smiled before he looked up, “She is in the east wing currently. She’s attending practice with your son, Prince Noctis. She wasn’t sure if she was going, she’s been feeling a bit distant from people since you closed off the greenhouse.”

He watched Regis eyes cloud up a little as he went on to explain, “When I’m not with her…I have people around her that I trust. People that I have vetted to ensure she is safe and well looked after. Thankfully, it’s only once in a great, great while that I’m not with her, but rest assured I have her safety in mind always.”

Regis tapped the file against his hand before taking in a slow breath, “You seem to take your job seriously.”

“As I should, I’m protecting a member of the royal family. She may not be in line for the throne anymore,” Nyx watched the older man take in a deep breath, “but it doesn’t mean she’s completely safe.”

“You’re smart to think that…” Regis looked at him with a distant thought in his eye, “You think this…outing…will improve her mood?”

Nyx tensed momentarily. Things had been extremely tense between you and the King. Family mealtimes were required now…and extremely awkward…Regis also had closed the greenhouse the following week after your incident with him.

You had been crushed and nearly lost it…

“Y/N…” He looked at you as your fist balled up looking at the chain on the door with a huge padlock, “Y/N, take a breath…”

“He can’t…” You turned and began marching down the hall as if you were going to war, “He can’t do this! This is the one place…the only place…”

“Wait…” He warped in front of you cutting you off as he put his hands on your arms, “just…”

“This is too far!” Your voice rose as you face began to redden, “He can’t…this is…”

“I know…” Nyx frowned giving your arms a gentle squeeze, “but you, going in wherever he’s at… and exploding…it isn’t going to help. You know this…”

You looked up at him tears just beginning to show in the corners of your eyes, “He…he’s trying to erase them…everything good that my parents did…He’s trying to erase it all…”

Nyx couldn’t say anything…he would have liked to agree with you to make you feel better, but he couldn’t. Ever since that day you had been…sad… He got worried for you. Afraid you might do something to hurt yourself, but you didn’t.

Nyx finally let out the breath held for a moment and spoke quietly, “I think…it would be a step in the right direction.”

Regis let out a sigh as he began walking again, “I am only restricting her of the things that are distractions. She may not become queen, but she still plays a vital role in the arena of politics. It is important that she finishes her studies and begin her duties.”

“Duties, your Majesty?”  Nyx questioned him a look of confusion coming to his face, “Forgive me, no one has informed me of the future yet…”

“It doesn’t surprise me that she hasn’t told you. It’s hard to have trained for one role your whole life and be thrusted into another so jarringly.” Regis smiled a little, “She essentially will be filling my position that I held when my brother was king, may he rest in peace…”

“You were in charge of overseeing relations with the territories, right?” Nyx smirked a little as surprised overtook the King’s face.

“Yes…as well as relations with other countries. Specifically, Accordo and Tenebrae.” Regis kept walking further down a hall toward the council chambers, “I need her to take her place before we lose those relationships.”

“Your majesty…” Nyx stopped gaining the full attention of the king, “Do you understand that she is terrified of being in large crowds?”

A flicker of surprise came over Regis’ face, “I…I was unaware.”

Nyx sighed looking down to the ground, “Sir…she suffers from PTSD…at least a little bit…That night destroyed her trust in people, and then when she was finally better…her entire world was torn down in a single moment. I have been working these past few months with her. Trying to at least get her comfortable with the people she sees everyday…”

Nyx looked back up at him putting his hands on his hips, “That’s why I took her out that night…I know it was wrong. I should have followed protocol, but you didn’t see what that party did to her. She puts on such a brave face, and she fakes the perfect smile, all the while she is panicking. Even the whole way to the Hearth, she tried to be brave asking questions to hide her fear…and she was brave finally…her curiosity of the ward overtook her when we arrived. It felt like I was finally seeing her in her element for the first time.”

“Why do you think that is?” Regis was watching him carefully. Nyx looked at him and he could see how genuine he was trying to be, “Be honest…”

“It’s because she trusts me, your majesty. We’ve built a bond by sharing conversations…I believe she lets her walls down enough around me to feel safe…and normal.” Nyx let his arms drop standing up tall like his mother always told him to do when he delivered something important, “If you want her to step into your old role…you have to get her to trust you again. You have to let her be free.”

Regis let out a long sigh before he nodded slowly, “You know your charge well. I trust you will take care of her while sailing.”

Nyx felt his excitement rise inside of him as he bowed, “Thank you, your majesty. I will do just that.”

“As I said when you first took over your position…” Regis spoke over him placing a hand on Nyx’s head, “Keep her safe…”

Nyx watched as his feet disappeared out of his view. He stood up straight watching the king walk through a set of doors leading to the council room. There was a strange feeling that stirred inside of his chest as he began to compare things.

What you told him about your uncle, that day he reprimanded you, and the cold breakfasts the weeks following…they didn’t add up to the man who seemed genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. He could tell each time he spoke those last few words to him…there was father’s love in them…Regis didn’t wish any harm to come to you and he was truly sorry for everything.

His strange feeling didn’t stop him long as he raced to the training grounds. He stepped inside cautiously and just in time to see Gladio throw Noctis halfway across the field. The prince landed hard on the ground with a groan.

“Whoa…hey…” Nyx rushed over to him kneeling down, “You alright there?”

“Don’t you feel bad for him! He deserves all he’s getting right now!” Gladio shouted toward them.

Noctis groaned sitting up with Nyx’s help, “I said I was sorry.”

“What happened?” Nyx chuckled a little further helping Noctis to his feet.

“I…maybe…sorta…” Noctis scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Maybe sorta nothing!” Gladio walked over, “Little twerp embarrassed the hell outta me…”

“She likes you…every girl likes you!” Noctis rolled his eyes, “Anita even said yes!”

“Whoa…you’re into Anita?” Nyx smirked a little as Gladio scowled looking away from them both. He really liked that the prince’s guards did not take shit from him because he was royal. It reminded him of home.

“He does and I happened to say something about it to her, mentioning how neat it would be for them to go out on a date…” Noctis glanced at Gladio who was still fuming.

“You two would make a cute couple.” Nyx patted Gladio on the back, “Go easy on our prince…he’s young…”

Gladio rolled his eyes nodding a little, “If you’re looking for Y/N, she and Ignis stepped into the other arena for a tutorial on javelins.”

“Right, thanks…” Nyx looked to Noctis giving him a sympathetic look, “Good luck…”

“Thanks…” He murmured as Nyx walked back out.

He walked across the hall again opening the door cautiously. He never knew what to expect when entering a training area here. Back home training rooms didn’t have doors and as soon as you entered you were part of the session. Insomnia however, it depended on the individual. There were rules…and they always changed…

“Good, but…” He looked over seeing you lunge out with a Javelin and Ignis instructing you. He felt his jaw clench as Ignis moved up behind you placing his hand on your hips adjusting you, “square off your hips…move this leg back and let your whole body be the force behind it. Otherwise you’ll fatigue your shoulders…try again.”

You followed the recommendations and sure enough there was a lot more power behind the thrust. You smiled back at Ignis, “That felt much better.”

Ignis smiled at you, “Keep coming and soon you’ll out master us all.”

You let out a laugh, “I doubt it…I’m sure if my uncle hears about me attempting to train, he’ll put his foot down somehow.”

“I have it on good authority…” Nyx took the opportunity to step in. You smiled at him as he approached making his heart flutter, “That will not happen. As I am your guard, it is my job to protect you, and in order to do my job well you also need to know some self-defense.”

“That’s a practical statement.” Ignis smiled at him, “I don’t believe we ever been formally introduced, Ignis Scientia.”

“Nyx Ulric.” Nyx took his outstretched hand his grasping it firmly, “Thank you for taking over for me for a bit. I had a meeting to attend to.”

“Happy to help. Y/N, has always been an easy student.” Ignis nodded toward you, “Always listens and performs well.”

“Well…fighting isn’t a speech…” You shook your head as you leaned on the javelin, “…words never killed anyone…”

“No but they can sometimes cut deeper than any weapon.” Ignis told you. Nyx could feel himself rolling his eyes slightly. What was this guy…perfect? “And with that, I will hand you back to the very capable hands of Nyx.”

“Thank you, Ignis.” You told him as he bowed slightly before excusing himself. You turned your attention to Nyx as soon as Ignis left, “So what meeting did you have? Captain Drautos giving your more recruit drills again?”

“Ah, no…I don’t have another set of those for two weeks.” He smiled at you as he placed his hands behind his back.

“Alright…who did you speak to and why are you so happy?” You moved to put the javelin away on the rack.

He followed you slowly, “Oh…just the king…”

That got your attention quickly, “What?”

“I had to…he’s the only one who can approve taking a member of the royal family out of the city…” Nyx watch as confusion filled your eyes, “which he granted.”

“…I don’t understand…you’re taking me someplace?” You tilted your head eyes narrowing on him as he nodded, “And my uncle approved it? This isn’t some trip he’s devising?”

“No, it is not a trip from him, and yes he did. It’s in a few days…we’re going sailing.” He grinned when your eyes lit up excited, “We’re supposed to have great winds that day…everyone wanted you to come.”

“Everyone…like everyone from the Hearth?” You suddenly became a little nervous when he nodded, “I don’t know…I don’t know how to sail…won’t I get in the way?”

“Well…it’s the Galahd version of sailing…so there’s a lot less rigging to deal with. I have a feeling you’re going to be just fine.” He smirked a little as he opened the door for you.

“That sounds like a trap.” You stopped in front of him putting your hands on your hips, “You wouldn’t be trying to trick me, would you?”

“You? Never…” He smirked at you, eyes twinkling at the thought, “What happened to all that trust you had in me?”

#galahdian dreams #NYX #nyx ulric #nyx ulric reader #nyx ulric/reader #nyx ulric imagine #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv imagine #ffxv #ffxv imagine #ignis scientia #gladiolus amiticia #Noctis Lucis Caelum #titus drautos #regis lucis caelum #kingsglaive #kingsglaive: final fantasy xv #kingsglaive imagine #ffxv au #slow burn

[prorevenge]

The neighborhood remembers. The neighborhood punishes.

This is a story I've been sitting on for a few years now, and having discovered r/prorevenge a couple months ago, I decided it's finally time to let the world know what happened to a sociopath who dared to cross The Neighborhood.

To set the stage, I used to live in a big but not huge city, lets call it palmville. I lived near the corner of a dense suburb nestled between overstuffed apartment buildings, a river that smelled like diesel when at low tide, and two busy highways. I was a minority in this neighborhood and I caught a lot of heat for it, people didn't really like white people there, but enough of our neighbors were accepting of us that aside from a few disagreements between families and the beatings that came with them I didn't feel like I was in danger when leaving my home. It was a rough neighborhood, but it was my home, and it protected its own.

The Community Center was like a temple, and...lets call her A.M. was the priestess. In our neighborhood she was respected like a living deity, and her calm and understanding reflected her status. I never once saw her behave without a strong moral code.

And the final piece to set this stage, our former landlord. Short asian lady in all the stereotypical ways, kind and sweet. Our house was above my parent's pay grade and she knew it. She went out of her way to find house repair and maintenance jobs for tenants that were having money problems. She'd pay them by taking chunks out of their rent, often times a bit larger than how much the work they did was worth. Looking back, that was probably illegal, but that's irrelevant because she died. The circumstances surrounding her death were suspect, but none of the suspects play a part in this story so there's no need to go into detail on it.

Her sons, who wanted nothing to do with real-estate, took over the business. They couldn't make heads or tails of how she managed to float books with so much red in them and began dumping properties, ours was on that list. I harbor no ill-will towards them, and still wish them the best, but the guy who bought the house...enter the sociopath and today's victim.

This guy wasted no time in making our lives hell. His first action was to raise the rent. Apparently when the account changed hands, he was allowed to update the rent to modern pricing. We'd been there for several years and were paying below market even from the onset, so this was a huge blow by itself. The second blow came when he said that the rent had to be ready, in full, on the first of every month, no partial payments, no work to reduce it, no extensions. Full rent on the first of the month or an eviction notice on the second. This was hemorrhaging our savings, but we were surviving for the moment.

Meanwhile, A.M. had lobbied hard for the city to co-fund a revival project to renovate the entire aging suburb and she succeeded. One street at a time had conga lines of work trucks almost every day and people were getting old leaky pipes replaced, sinkholes in yards patched, fences repaired, paint renewed, it was an amazing thing, and an enticing thing for The Sociopath.

Being at the corner of the neighborhood, our house was on the last street on the list, and Sociopath wanted us out so he could relist the house after renovation. He never said this directly, but multiple conversations made his intent clear even for 10 year old me.

Random inspections, overhyping of minor problems with the house, even so far as trying to bring us up on completely false animal abuse charges because our cat was attacked by what we believe was a raccoon and he tried to claim we did it, yeah, because a vet can't figure out the difference between knife wounds and a mauling.

We read the writing on the wall and began preparations to move. We decided to move in with my oldest brother in a place I'll call banjoland. Most of us had moved except my other brother, who stayed behind because he still had a lot of social ties in Palmville and his new job meant if he cut corners, he could keep paying sociopath's inflated bills.

Well, despite his best efforts, he came up $20 short one month and sociopath jumped on it. he had 30 days. We made the 400 mile trip from Banjoland to Palmville to get the rest of our stuff and I can't say as I approved of my brother's living conditions, but I guess that's beside the point. The month passed rather uneventfully, I guess Sociopath figured he'd won so there was no need to burn the gas to drive out and gloat.

The neighborhood had learned what was going on and that was the first time I'd ever been back in that neighborhood where I didn't get a single callout, a single glare, a single racist remark. Everybody behaved reverently, it was kind of disturbing in all honesty, I guess people in lower incomes all know what eviction means and felt like I was having a bad enough time already.

Well, 20 days later he says it's time to leave. We still had a week left, but it didn't matter, we didn't have the money to try fighting it with a lawyer. A.M. descended from the heavens and bought us a couple extra days, but it was evident he really really wanted us out, possibly because the work trucks were now one street away.

The last time I ever saw the house I grew up in, workmen were throwing my childhood possessions into a large bin when we supposedly still had three days left to leave. Everything that follows is a collection of information I got through the grapevine and phone calls with people present at the events.

Immediately, Sociopath moved into the house himself. Why you may ask? People who owned the homes they were living in were getting the full cost of renovations comped by the city. He figured that by moving in himself, he'd be able to get this house he bought at liquidation price renovated for free and flip it.

A.M. was having none of it.

She explained to him that at the time the revival project was approved, that house was a rental lot, and they can't change the budget now. She then explained to him that the partial cost coverage that had been approved for the lot was in our name, not his, and he wasn't eligible for partial cost comping either.

He'd have to pay every penny himself, and since the entire neighborhood was getting a facelift, he was required to at least renovate the exterior, otherwise she'd see the house condemned as an eyesore or dilapidated or whatever the legal term is. He went really cheap on the renovations, basically put in new carpets and a coat of paint, this would later come to bite him in the ass.

He then began trying to sell the house in earnest. The neighborhood remembered what he'd done. There were vandalisms when nobody was there, and loud noises from the neighbors when people were there to look the house over, and anytime a prospective buyer asked around, they got the full stinkeye from anybody they talked to. They made sure he simply couldn't get that house sold at market value.

After three months of this, he lowered the listing price. Then a month later he lowered it again and finally got a bite. A.M. personally made sure he had to file every. single. piece. of paperwork before it changed hands. Every single part of the house had to be inspected thoroughly.

And that's when Karma herself caught up with him. In his hasty and cheap renovations, he'd somehow damaged the pipes.

Black. Mold.

A.M. remembered how he'd treated us and she decided to pay him back in kind. I never heard how exactly she pulled it off, but she managed to delay him getting the news about the black mold being discovered for several days, long enough that by time he did get the news he didn't have enough time left to try getting it cleaned or make a last ditch effort to save the house.

The house was condemned days later.

In their final act, A.M. and members of the neighborhood filed every single complaint and injunction they could and arranged for him to be compelled by the city to demolish the house immediately. A cost he had to pay out of his own pocket.

He tried to destroy a family and broke laws just to make some quick cash, and instead was left fighting a year long legal battle and ended up losing thousands.

The neighborhood remembers. The neighborhood punishes.

(source) story by (/u/TanyaSapien)

#prorevenge #by /u/TanyaSapien #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[girlslikeguyswhosmoke]

There’s Something About Mrs. Kendall, Part 1

“That will be $142.50 today, Ma’am,” a middle-aged female voice said from the other side of the counter.

“Not as bad as I thought,” Mrs. Kendall replied.

She signed the credit card slip.

“I’ll be back next week to get the others taken care of,” she said. “Could I make the appointment now?”

“Sure,” the clerk said. “How many are you bringing in?”

“I’ve got four fur babies next week,” she said with a smile.

“Okay, I’ve got you down for 1:30 next Tuesday.”

“Thanks,” Mrs. Kendall said, bending down to pick up a pet crate, which contained three cats, a Siamese, an orange Maine Coon, and a smoky gray longhair.

She threw a smile at the clerk and turned to leave. But the vet clerk chuckled.

“See you next Tuesday, Ma’am” she said with a laugh.

Mrs. Kendall knew what this meant, but chose not to react. She was aware of her reputation, both as a “crazy cat lady” and as a crazy religious fanatic who belonged to a church that picketed the funerals of soldiers and desecrated Jewish graves with spray-painted swastikas.

As to the former, she was guilty as charged. The latter was unfortunately guilt by association. There was not a hateful bone in Mrs. Kendall’s body. Not one grain of her DNA hated black people or believed gay people should be put to death in accordance with the “good book.” Sadly, the same was not true of the remainder of her family, infamous and notorious, even in this small conservative town, where MAGA hats were worn openly and with pride.

Though it had been nearly 16 years since her family’s church had been run out of town, she was still unable to shake the horrible stigma of her last name.

At 62, she was healthy, never smoked a day in her life. In fact, the only tenet of her family’s belief system she shared was a distaste for tobacco and other substances. An active senior, she was semi-retired, though this was not entirely by choice. Finding an employer willing to give her a job in this town was a challenge. So she drove for Uber and Lyft to support herself and her 13 cats.

This meant she had ample contact with millennials, many too young to remember why she was so shunned by the people of her town. In fact, most of the few people she was on decent terms with were in excess of 30 years younger than she was.

She put the pet carrier in the back seat, then got into the driver’s seat and prepared to head home. Turning on the radio, she flipped through the several country stations, right-wing talk radio, and Christian radio stations that saturated the airwaves. Nothing was appealing.

Suddenly, her phone sounded the tone of the Uber app.

“Should I take this one?” she asked herself.

“Fuck it,” she decided, “I need the money.”

Moments later, she arrived at a 7 Eleven, where a teenage boy waved her down.

The boy was dressed in a black motorcycle jacket and tight faded and worn blue jeans. He wore a pair of sunglasses, even though it was overcast on this day. He was thin and stood about 5’ 7”. He was holding a backpack. She guessed he was maybe 14 years old.

“Did you call for an Uber?” she asked.

“That would be me,” the boy replied, his voice all but confirming her suspicion about his age.

“You have to be 18 to use the app,” she said.

The boy took off his sunglasses and looked at her with pouting blue eyes.

“Oh come on,” he said. “I’ve really got to get to Game Stop.”

Mrs. Kendall deliberated.

Then she pulled out her phone and declined the fare.

“Hop in,” she said. “You’ll want to ride in front. I’ve got my babies in the back.”

The boy got into her car and shut the door.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Kendall,” he said.

“How do you know my name?” she asked.

“Uhh...I think everybody knows your name,” he said.

“So how old are you?” she asked.

“15,” he said. “But I’ll be 16 next month. And I’ll have my license.”

She looked over at him and smiled, empathizing with his desire for independence.

“I’m getting a bike,” he said.

“Interesting,” she said. “Well, you look the part.”

Silence fell over the two and the boy began to jam to a song that was apparently playing in his head. Mrs. Kendall looked over at him and smiled.

“Sorry,” he said.

They came to a stop light next to the strip mall where Game Stop was located.

“Umm,” the boy said, “You think there’s one more favor I can ask?”

“Okay?” Mrs. Kendall replied.

“Wait for me at Game Stop,” he said. “When I’m done, I’ll give you some money. Think you can go to that smoke shop and buy me a pack of smokes?”

Mrs. Kendall balked.

“No way,” she said flatly.

“I’ll give you 20 bucks,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll come out of Game Stop with a hundred.”

“Maybe you didn’t understand me,” she said. “I’m not buying cigarettes for a 15-year-old.”

“Buy me two and I’ll give you 40,” he said.

She looked over at the gorgeous blue eyes staring dotingly at her. Of course, she knew she was being manipulated. Nevertheless, in the moment, her resolve began to break. After all, this was not her son. She wasn’t responsible for his well-being.

And 40 bucks was 40 bucks.

She drove into the parking lot at Game Stop.

“Hurry up,” she said, still not committing to commit the crime of purchasing tobacco for a minor. But clearly the boy had reason to feel optomisitc.

About 20 minutes later, the boy emerged from Game Stop, with the beaming, happy-go-lucky face replaced with one of disappointment.

He opened the car door and handed her a $10 bill.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said.

As he shut the door and prepared to walk away, she rolled down the window.

“Wait...what happened?” she asked.

“They only bought one of my games,” he said. “Sucks.”

He smiled.

“Was worth a try, right?” he said.

She hated herself for what she did next.

“Get back in the car,” she said. “Where’s the smoke shop?”

Without hesitation, he opened the door and got back in the car.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Kendall,” he said, his face returning to the bright and innocent, yet clearly manipulative smile he had presented before.

She drove him to the shopping center where the smoke shop was located and pulled into the Subway parking, at the opposite end of the strip mall from the smoke shop. This was so that the person behind the counter wouldn’t ask to see the ID of her passenger, as many smoke shops and liquor stores tended to do.

This meant placing an enormous amount of blind trust in a manipulative teenage boy she had met a only half hour before-- she trusted him not only with her unattended car, but also her three cats in the back seat. She was stepping so far outside of herself and her own series of actions stunned her.

But there was something about this kid. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but somehow she knew she could trust him. Even though she didn’t even know his name yet.

She walked into the smoke shop and stepped up to the counter. She had never been in such a place before. She had no reason to.

“Two packs of Newports?” she nervously asked the clerk.

“Shorts or hundreds?” the clerk asked.

Trying to conceal the deer-in-the-headlights look on her face, she smiled at him.

“Shorts,” she said decisively, figuring it might be preferred by novice smokers like the 15-year-old outside waiting in her car.

The clerk grabbed two green packs of Newports from the rack behind the counter. But before he could ring up the sale...

“Do you mind if I see your ID, Ma’am?” The clerk said.

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Kendall said.

“It’s the law,” he said. “We’ve got to card everybody.”

Mrs. Kendall wanted to laugh. If only he knew...

Moments later, she stepped outside to the sound of loud country music blasting from her car. The boy sitting in the passenger seat with the window rolled down had the seat reclined and his feet on her dash, but quickly took them down once he noticed her.

She shot him a disapproving glare as she approached the car.

“Looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable,” she said, handing him the two packs of cigarettes.

She got back in the car and immediately turned off the radio and then glared at him.

“I hope you know I’ve just committed a felony,” she said.

He smiled back at her as he tore open the pack.

“Actually it’s only a misdemeanor,” he said. “And that’s only if I tell anyone where I got these...which, of course, I have no intention of doing.”

Mrs. Kendall shook her head.

How? How did she let herself get talked into all of this?

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. If you need any yard work done...anything. I’m good for it,” he said.

“Actually,” she said. “I’m pretty sure I can find lots of things that need to be done.”

“By the way,” she asked, “What’s your name?”

He pulled out a fresh Newport from the pack and smiled back at her.

“Justin,” he said, his cigarette bobbing up and down as it dangled from his lips.

“Not in my car!” she said.

He pulled the cigarette from his lips.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know...”

Did he seriously think he could just light up in somebody’s car? What century did he think he was being raised in? Mrs. Kendall obviously grew up during a time when virtually every 15-year-old smoked cigarettes and nobody ever asked “Do you mind if I smoke?”. But that was so many years ago.

“Alright,” she said. “Go ahead.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Just keep the window rolled down,” she requested.

With that, Justin placed his cigarette back in his mouth, cupped his hands over it like a pro, and fired up his lighter.

Through the corner of her eye, Mrs. Kendall saw a stream of smoke emerge from the boy’s mouth as soon as it was lit. An inexperienced smoker he was not.

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew a cloud out the window, in an effort to comply with Mrs. Kendall’s wishes. But that didn’t stop it from blowing right back inside-- right into Mrs. Kendall’s face.

She turned to him and gave him a very stern look of disapproval. But he just smiled back at her, his eyes concealed by his shades.

At that moment, something clicked. Mrs. Kendall couldn’t figure it out. But seeing Justin sitting next to her, dressed up in a motorcycle jacket, wearing a pair of shades, and chilling with a cigarette stirred up an image she was strangely drawn to....

...But then the thought vanished completely from her mind. She could not allow her mind to go where she was afraid it wanted to go.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Why are you smoking?” she asked. “I thought vaping was the thing these days.”

“I used to vape,” Justin said. “But cigarettes are easier to come by and don’t need as much maintenance.”

“I mean,” he continued. “I’m gonna quit when I’m 20.”

Mrs. Kendall laughed.

“Why 20?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Justin said. “Seems like a good age.”

“You going to college, the military…?”

“I don’t know,” Justin replied. “Haven’t really thought too much about it. Right now I just want to get my bike, get a job, you know...”

“Doesn’t the job come before the bike?” Mrs. Kendall asked.

“The bike is my birthday present,” he said.

Obviously, Justin doesn’t come from a poor family, she thought.

Justin continued to smoke, taking deep inhales and measured exhales, just like a person who had been smoking for years would do. In fact, he had not been smoking for that long. He received his training through vaping. He took bigger drags in an effort to match the smoke output from vaping. Consequently, he reeked of smoke most of the time. This begged a very obvious question.

“Do your parents know you smoke?” Mrs. Kendall asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “They don’t allow it in the house and they won’t buy my cigarettes.”

“Well,” Mrs. Kendall said, “Good for them.”

Justin took one final huge drag from his cigarette before tossing the butt out the window. As he exhaled the final cloud of smoke, he rolled the window up, trapping the majority of it in the car.

“Roll it down,” Mrs. Kendall ordered. “Let my car air out first before you roll it back up.”

“Okay,” Justin said, rolling the window back down.

He pulled out another cigarette and lit up. The rolled-down window gave him another opportunity to have another one, so why not?

Mrs. Kendall, for her part, did not complain. She watched him torch up his lighter in the corner of her eye, this time with interest. And the first though that came to her mind was, why can’t this kid just be 20 years older?

But that was as far as she was going to let that thought go.

Despite her infamous family history, Mrs. Kendall was not a religious person. But after everything she did today, she was sure she was going to hell.

And so began an interesting friendship.

[porchwood]

Hey friends,

I’ve been struggling to come up with a sufficient thank-you for all your help with the GoFundMe, but it seems every time I sit down to try to write a response, some new awful thing arises. And this past week was the worst yet (maybe the worst ever).

When last I spoke to you, I was getting over a bad cold and preparing to ease back into work after my injury. The PT office finally called me back and I went in for one session to make sure I was at a recovery point where it was okay for me to do massage again; the therapist did a quick assessment - no exercises demonstrated or recommended - kinesiotaped the knee and charged $100 that I had to pay then and there. (So a waste, and an expensive one, but I guess it could have been worse?) The next day I started back at work VERY part-time (one 60-90 min client a day) and it absolutely killed me. I was no longer wearing the brace and my knee actually did okay with the work (bending/crouching notwithstanding), but the rest of my body (esp core muscles) were just drop-kicked by the work. I went home exhausted and shaky every day and finally tried substantially increasing my protein intake, which felt a little ridiculous (we’re talking a 24g shake + an 11g bar for breakfast or two entrees at lunchtime), but it’s done a world of good, and that’s all thanks to you guys. (Protein of any kind isn’t cheap and your incredible donations made it possible for me to buy good food to rebuild my muscles.)

The end of my first week back at work, I fell hard on the ice outside my house. Miraculously, my left knee never even hit the ground, but I fell flat on my back and my left wrist - without any lasting injury, thankfully, but I was absolutely worthless for the next 24 hours and had several days (crucial returning-to-massage days) of varying degrees of pain in that wrist. In the meantime, I made a couple of other adjustments (raising my massage table to take the strain off my lower body, getting back on an ibuprofen schedule instead of just taking it after the fact, when I was hurting badly), all of which helped, but I’m still only about 85% back. My knee still hurts every morning when I wake up and gets stiff and sore whenever I have it bent for any length of time. My workplace has been surprisingly good about letting me work a slower schedule as I build back up (ex. 3 clients a day instead of 5), and last Friday I finally got a paycheck for the first time in over a month (!). 

Then, two weeks ago, I was wakened at 3am to Lucky (my little rat terrier) falling off the bed. This has happened before and is usually comical after the fact, but when I picked her up, she emptied her bladder all over me, and when I tried to set her down to check on her, her back legs had gone limp and wouldn’t support her. Terrified (I’ve heard enough end-of-life dog stories to know this isn’t good), I was about to take her to the emergency vet when she sat up like nothing had happened and began licking herself. I took her outside and she walked around a bit, completely sound on her feet, and pottied again - business as usual. Worried and mystified, I messaged my (LPN) mother who thought the urination sounded like a shock reaction to the fall, so I gave Lucky a bath and spent most of the day just cuddling with her.

For about two seconds, life seemed like it might finally be getting a little better. I was able to pick up two massages at a local inn (which pay substantially better than massages at the spa and provide some very helpful extra money). And then on Thursday, I came home to a slightly anxious Lucky (howling quietly on my bed), and when she got up to greet me, her back legs wouldn’t support her. I scooped her up immediately and her entire body went limp (seemingly lifeless), her head and neck lolling over my arm. As I ran through the house with her, her bladder emptied down the front of me and - still lifelessly limp - she gave the most horrifying howl I’ve ever heard. I was convinced she was dying in my arms.

As we tore down the road to the vet’s (thankfully, about a 5-minute drive from home), she sat up on my lap and by the time we’d reached the office, she was acting downright normal again. I was able to get us in with one of the vets about 10 mins later (a tech checked her out right away to triage her and make sure she was stable), and he wanted to get some data on her heart. She’s had a heart murmur for almost her entire life and, while I’ve asked repeatedly what we could do for that, the only advice I was ever given was hawthorn and ginkgo supplements (which she takes on a more or less daily basis), and at one point we tried a canine cardiac formula for a few months with no notable changes.

She had an EKG, chest x-rays, and a blood draw ($516, including the office call) and then that info was sent to a veterinary cardiologist in Portland. All they could tell me in the meantime was that her heart is enlarged and to just have her take it easy for the rest of the day; they would call me first thing the next morning with the cardiologist’s report. Lucky was sleepy but normal for the rest of the day and I passed an awful night of bad dreams (including one about rabid dogs) and waking every hour or so to make sure she was okay.

I was scheduled for my typical split on Friday but had only one client at the end of the day and was an emotional wreck, so I asked if I could just go home to be with Lucks and I found another therapist to cover my client. I still hadn’t heard from the vet by 10am, so I called to check in. He gave me a brief summary over the phone and asked if we could come in for some more tests, which was another hour and a half and $236. (I was able to put these two visits on my CareCredit card but for some reason the vet only gives a 6 month promotional period instead of the 12-18 months that other places do. If you’re not familiar, CareCredit is a great option IF you can pay off everything quickly. If you can’t, you’re clobbered with obscene interest on the entire sum at the end of the promotional period, even if you’ve paid off almost all of the principal.)

I’m still making sense of the cardiologist’s report because it’s quite in-depth and my knowledge of the heart isn’t quite that high, but here’s what I’ve been able to glean:

- “severely enlarged” heart - borderline tachycardia and occasional arrhythmia (her collapse was considered a syncopal episode, if that helps anyone) - some degree of mitral valve issue - at risk of developing congestive heart failure

She was put on two heart meds, pimobendan/Vetmedin (which is supposed to be very effective and is also very expensive) and enalapril (an ACE-inhibitor), and she has a kidney check-up in about a week to make sure she’s doing well on them and adjust the doses if necessary. The vet seemed to think the prognosis was pretty good (considering that at this point we’re talking about staving off heart failure :/) - he said small dogs with mitral valve issues tend to do well on these meds - and other than this insanity with her heart, Lucky seems to be in pretty good shape. Before Thursday she was extremely active and happy; there’s no sign of neurological issues, and her BP, thyroid, kidneys, etc are all looking good. So I’m trying to stay hopeful.

She’s been a little extra sleepy (understandably) the past few days, but this afternoon she seemed unusually “off,” so I’m trying to figure out whether it’s her tiny body adjusting to the meds (which she needs to stay on for the rest of her life) or if her heart is suddenly starting to get tired and this is the new normal. :( I called my mother earlier (a mistake) and got a lot of pessimism-in-the-guise-of-sympathy that left me feeling like Lucky is on hospice and I should start making end-of-life arrangements now. 

I’ve been crying for the better part of the last four days, and I don’t think I can articulate how painful this is for me. I didn’t think it was possible to donate a human heart to a canine but I looked it up just in case, because I would give her mine without hesitation. Lucky is my whole life - my soul running around in a little black-and-white body, and five years ago when my life systematically fell apart, she was the only thing misfortune didn’t touch - and I knew this, and I was waiting. Since then she developed sleeping bladder leaks (which, while frightening, were easily and effectively treated with estrogen), then severe separation anxiety (which I’ve been struggling to treat since 2016, and yes, I blame myself for the anxiety making her heart worse, even though I’ve done absolutely everything to help her overcome it). Lucky is absolutely the reason I didn’t try to end my life at various junctures over the past five years, and I don’t want to think about what will happen to me if she’s not here anymore.

And as ridiculous as this will sound: I was supposed to be married by now. When I got Lucks as a puppy, I knew the inevitable would one day come (unless Jesus comes back before then so Lucky and I can just go to heaven together, which I haven’t given up on), but I knew my life would be much different by then. I would have a home and a husband to help shoulder the financial and emotional burden. I was not supposed to be alone, sterile, and struggling just to make ends meet. I love my roommate dearly, but it’s not the same as having a spouse, nor should it be. She can give me hugs and listen to me cry, but at the end of the day it’s me in that dr’s office, holding my hurting baby and promising to pay for whatever they have to do, and me that has to hold everything together and keep going when the worst happens. 

Incidentally, last Sunday was my birthday. I’ve mentioned before that my birthday has some kind of perverse curse, and if this year didn’t prove it, I don’t know what will.

My father (living in Nebraska, and with whom I’ve had a strained relationship since my hysterectomy) has congestive heart failure, and my mother called me shortly before all of the Lucky stuff to tell me that he’s failing and to try to talk me into moving back to Nebraska to help keep an eye on him. Which is a subject for another time entirely, but over the past few days I’ve been wondering if I should think about going back (temporarily), if only to be around family myself. It would be a complicated situation (I’d still be on the Maine lease and paying for half of everything, Lord knows if I’d be able to keep my Maine job when I came back and I’d end up back at Massage Envy in Nebraska, not to mention I’d be scrambling to pay down my medical bills and Lucky’s), but maybe it’s something I should consider.

Anyway: that’s where I’ve been. :( And I’m sure I look like an ingrate for not saying thank you about the funds sooner, but between the fatigue and the heartbreak, it’s been hard to manage much of anything lately.

#personal #lucky bloom #did i mention we got kicked out of our house four months ago? #and that i'm still recovering from an acute knee injury? #i almost can't even process this #and i know i'm quietly ignoring the parts i can't handle

[justanartsysideblog]

Old God, New Tricks

Old Dog Sanctuary AU

I finally managed to finish the first part of the Old Dog Sanctuary AU! I’m sorry this took so long, writer’s block has not been kind. This is mostly just setting the scene for what’s to come, but I hope you enjoy! 

This version of Dirthamen, Fear, and Deceit (mention) belong to @feynites.

Eda (mention) belongs to @palindromekomori.

Olwyn's alarm goes off at 4am and it takes all her willpower not to turn it off and roll back over. Her blankets seem especially warm and inviting this morning, and one of the sanctuary dogs is curled up at the foot of her bed and it would be cruel to wake them, wouldn't it?

But then she feels something pecking at her head and sighs.

Fear is not going to let her sleep in.

“I'm up,” She grumbles, reaching up a hand to pat the raven that's tugging on her curls. She tries her hardest not to disturb her bedmate—correction bedmates, there's two other dogs sprawled out on the other side of the bed—as she crawls out from under the covers in the darkness of early morning.

The dogs barely stir as she fumbles into a pair of jeans; one lifts her head, lets out a tired boof, and settles back down. Lucky girl, Olwyn thinks wryly, pulling on a pair of socks.

First things first...time to feed the dogs.

It's almost mechanical, as she fills food bowls on the porch, deftly maneuvering around wiggling bodies as the dogs crowd around her feet. The early autumn air is cool, especially this high up in the mountains, but nothing a sweatshirt won't fix; it'll warm up by early afternoon anyway. She administers the proper medicine to the ones that need it, and then heads out to the kennels to feed the rest, Fear flying overhead to perch atop the old barn beams.

Some days are harder than others.

The dogs keep her from drifting; from slipping into uthenera where she doesn't need to feel the guilt of all she's done and left undone. The world doesn't need her anymore, and it was getting harder and harder to keep awake. But the dogs help. If she does not get up in the morning no one will be there to feed them, or give them their medicine.

She needs the dogs as much as they need her.

And then, of course, there are the wolves.

Olwyn doesn't own the mountain, per se—such a strange concept, when thousands of years ago she had, and had no need for deeds to show it. She has a rather gargantuan chunk of land in her name though, enough that some would call it a nature reserve rather than a private residence. And even the parts of it she doesn't own are heavily warded and legally are counted as a national forest. It keeps the loggers away, and Haurshos keeps away the rest.

She's always felt responsible for the wolves, with the steady decline of their numbers; it isn't their fault they're associated with a disgraced god. There's a few packs in the area that she'd introduce to the mountain; enough territory between them to keep them all satisfied and out of each others' hair...and away from the locals in the towns on the eastern side of the Hunterhorns.

Not all of the wolves sent her way are those that can make it in the wild. Some were pets, or rescued from haphazard zoos and exotic animal shops; wolves that were raised as dogs until the owners saw that they wouldn't be cute and cuddly and domesticated the way they wanted, or wolf hybrids that people thought were tame enough to keep as pets, only to learn otherwise.

People know to call her when there's a wolf problem, and all the local vets have her number.  

The wolves remind her of Adahlan's hounds to a painful degree. They remind her of her Emerald Knights, and of their namesake that emerged when the Dalish held onto the remnants of culture that had been stolen from them through no fault of their own.

She tried her hardest to help, and failed all the same. At least she can give the wolves a fighting chance.

Olwyn steps into the 'wolf barn' and immediately finds herself the recipient of several enthusiastic greetings. Mossfur, the resident alpha male of the domestic pack, trots forward and gives a play bow, tail wagging.

Olwyn laughs, “Should we play for a bit?”

---

The first thing she notices when she enters the kitchen two hours later is that she's out of coffee.

Olwyn lets out a small, defeated sigh as she looks down at the empty coffee canister. She thought she'd bought some on her last trip into town, but apparently she'd forgotten to pick it up. This is why you should make lists, she thinks. Maybe she hadn't had a coupon for any at the time, and had thought she'd be able to stretch her stores until then.

The sanctuary is closed today, which means Eda won't be coming in. She can't call her and ask her to pick some up with the cleaning supplies she'll be bringing tomorrow morning.

It isn't that Olwyn likes being alone. She's always been a social person, and isolation can be suffocating at times. But seeing the passage of time, walking among those that live and die because of her own folly...that is worse. It chips away at her, bit by bit.

It's hard, especially when her brother sleeps. Isolation suits him more than it does her, and so does silence. The span of time between his visits varies, and each time a bit of her thinks he is not going to wake up this time. She knows better, of course. They are two parts of a whole, and he would not leave her, not after everything they've lived through and done.

Their brother is dead, Dirthamen would not subject her to that loss a second time.

Still, it is...it is maddening, to not know, even with either Fear or Deceit flitting around, making certain she has physical reassurance of Dirthamen's presence. But it is not the same as seeing her brother sitting at the kitchen table, clipping coupons from the newspaper as rain pelts against the windowpane.

Fear catches on to her thoughts, and lands on her shoulder and begins to preen.  

“I'm heading into town,” Olwyn decides, “You're in charge while I'm gone, Fear, but no answering the telephone, you know what happened last time.” Fear glances at her, the picture of feigned innocence, and Olwyn shakes her head as she heads for the front door, grabbing her keys as she goes.

She finds Hopper, a ten-year-old bloodhound, lounging in a patch of sunlight on the porch. His tail begins to wag when he spots her, thumping loudly against the wood. She always takes one of the dogs with her when she goes into town; it's a nice little adventure for them, to go somewhere new, and to meet other people aside from herself and Eda.

“Wanna come to town with me, hm?” Olwyn asks, and is rewarded with an increase in tail wags and thumps, before Hopper gets to his feet and slowly follows her off the porch.

“Here we go,” She lifts the old bloodhound into the passenger's seat of her jeep and gives his ears an idle scratch, earning a slobbery kiss in return.

The small town of Haven is a forty five minute drive down the mountain. It's got one main street and a population in the triple digits; she's lucky it's even got a local grocery store and a post office. 

It's become a bit of a tourist trap as of late, due to the old ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Someone had thought it would be good for business to make a historic sector, with everyone in period dress from the Dragon Age; it's a bit tacky, and more than a little historically inaccurate, but it means that every summer there's an upswell of visitors, and far too many souvenir shops. There'd even been talk of putting in a hotel to handle the growing seasonal crowds.

There are lots of things she can't get at the local grocery, of course. Supplies for the dogs, medicine, clothes...for that she takes a day trip to Redcliffe. But all she needs is coffee today.

So Haven it is.

Hopper gives a low woof and leans his head out the window as Olwyn pulls away from the house and down the long and winding driveway to the main road. Getting radio reception this far up the mountain is hit or miss, so after a minute or so of hiccup-y static she turns it off and drives the rest of the way in silence.

There's very little traffic this time of year, and plenty of empty parking spots along the main street. Olwyn manages to snag one right in front of the general store, and comes around to the other side to help Hopper out, and is greeted with another kiss that has her smiling brightly as she walks into the store.

The bell at the front jingles, and Seggrit, the owner, looks up with a surprised smile, “Serah Olwyn! What a pleasant surprise!”

“I needed some caffeine,” Olwyn holds up a coffee canister from the nearby shelf, “So I thought I'd make a short run into town.” She glances around and picks up a coke and a bag of barbecue chips before placing it all on the counter.

Seggrit nods, “Just be sure to steer clear of the main square on your way back, unless you want to get dragged into Grand Chancellor Roderick's latest tirade.”

Olwyn tries to hide her grimace as she watches Seggrit ring up her items. She and Grand Chancellor Roderick were not on good terms. With such a small community, it was very obvious who worshiped the Maker and who didn't, and her absence at Chantry gatherings is noted and remarked upon frequently.

There is also the fact that Grand Chancellor Roderick had strongly railed against her wolf sanctuary. He said it was too close to Haven, and that the wild beasts were dangerous and would only cause trouble. He'd cited several over-inflated and easily refuted stories of wolf attacks in Ferelden, and the rising number of tourists during the summer months. There'd been about five town meetings and several petitions, but in the end enough of the residents of Haven had refused to take his outcry seriously.

Olwyn has a feeling the majority of them were apathetic, and had taken Olwyn's side for the simple reason that she hadn't gone door to door trying to get residents to sign a petition for the local government to take action.

Besides, Olwyn has all the proper paperwork and licenses needed, none of the sanctuary wolves had ever escaped the grounds or had any reason to, and the wild nature reserve packs don't come anywhere near the local towns. They and Olwyn have an understanding, and the wards keep them as safe from people as they do the people from the wolves.

People can be far more dangerous.

“Who is the current target?” Olwyn asks, reaching down a hand to scratch Hopper behind the ears.

“Flissa,” Seggrit shakes his head, “He's mad she won't close The Singing Maiden on Sundays.”

Olwyn finds herself shaking her head as well. Chancellor Roderick can be persistent, she'll give him that. Still, she hopes nothing comes of it; Flissa always has dog treats to give out when Olwyn stops in for a drink. “Some people aren't happy unless they're complaining about something. Thanks for the warning.”

Seggrit nods as he closes the register and pauses, “Hey, when is that brother of yours visiting again?”

Olwyn blinks, trying to shove down the hollow feeling that comes when she’s reminded of his absence. “I'm not sure. He's been busy with his research.”

Seggrit shrugs, “Just wanted to ask. Last year my cousin came to visit for the summer and won't shut up about him. She keeps asking me if I know if he'll be back next year.”

Olwyn grins, “I'll be sure to tell him he has an admirer. See you next time, Seggrit.”

---

The drive back to the sanctuary is a little more lively than the drive down the mountain. Olwyn puts on an old CD—Eda has commented that Olwyn's taste in music is, to put it kindly, dated—and Hopper drools out the window, and Olwyn only has to stop once; a small herd of deer comes bounding out of the trees severl yards up, but she's going slow enough that she has time to slow without slamming on the brakes, and Hopper's tail thumps against her arm as his nose twitches and he watches the deer disappear back into the forest.

She lets Hopper down from the Jeep, and heads into the kitchen to start some much-deserved coffee. Fear is in the living room, watching reruns of an old tv show that Olwyn's forgotten the name of. Fear doesn't seem too interested, but when he spots Olwyn he flies to the counter and lets out a loud greeting.

“Just taking a small break before I go clean the kennels,” Olwyn explains, throwing a few pieces of bread in the toaster. She contemplates making some scrambled eggs, but decides against it. “Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

It's meant as a joke, so she's surprised when Fear squawks a yes and flies into the front office. Olwyn follows, intrigued. Fear hops down next to the phone, and Olwyn sees the answering machine light flash.

A message? She presses the button, and heads back into the kitchen to check on her toast. The recording filters in as she grabs the butter from the fridge.

“Hello, I am Keeper Deshana, of Clan Lavellan. I was given this number to call by Keeper Marethari, of Clan Sabrae. A wolf has been spotted within our reservation, and I fear it is becoming used to people and will soon come into contact with my clan. I would like to see what could be done for it, as it seems to be without a pack, and I was told you were the leading authority for such things...”

There isn't much more; a mention that Keeper Deshana is calling from a landline from one of the few permanent structures on their lands, and that she will be staying for several days, to wait for Olwyn's response, and the number to call to contact, just in case Olwyn doesn't have caller ID.

It's an interesting situation.

Lone wolves in the wild are rarer than most people think. They are pack animals by nature, and it is dangerous and counter-intuitive to their survival to go at it alone. But if it is the case and there is a pack within the area of Clan Lavellan's lands, then the lone wolf would likely be driven closer to the populated areas of the reservation in order to avoid an aggressive alpha. It happens sometimes; an omega wolf or a sickly alpha wolf that can no longer lead its pack may be picked on or physically challenged to the point of leaving the group. Especially when food is scarce, the weaker wolves may not receive adequate nutrition and leave out of necessity.

Olwyn has been able to...maintain a stable growth and weather pattern for the mountain to make certain her wild pack finds no reason to venture further toward civilization. The hunting is good, enough to support them and keep the population stable. But she doesn't know how scarce food is up north.

Clan Lavellan's lands are in the northern Free Marches, if Olwyn's knowledge is correct. That's quite a distance to go for a lone wolf. She'd need to have Eda stay at the Sanctuary while she was away, and the paperwork for transporting a wild animal over that many borders...the best way to go about it would be by boat, but Kirkwall is a city Olwyn would rather not visit anymore than she has to.

No need to make plans yet, you need to call Keeper Deshana first and see the scale of the problem, she thinks, picking up the phone.

Fear gives an encouraging caw.

Well, no harm can come from a phone call.

---

#old dog sanctuary au #olwyn #modern fen'sulahn au #dirthamen #also if anyone has any names for cute dogs that they'd like to submit #they may appear in later fills as part of the sanctuary pack

[sustainablehedonism]

august 01.2020

Today the owner of the restaurant I work at now demonstrated to me and the other server how to pour wine at the table. I remembered at the end of his crash course that I had already taken an immersive college course on wine. For almost the entire time, I had completely forgotten about that. The only thing I did in that program was drink and eat a lot. I traveled across three different states and went on wine tastings before I even knew what wine tasted like or even comprehend or appreciate it. What a wasted education. I literally spent an entire year in a class about terroir and I learned more about wine in this five minute presentation than I did at Evergreen. 

Trent tells me that I am pathetic for having a bachelor’s degree and wanting to get a waitress job anyway, but I know I will learn a lot from this job. I’m already noticing the systems engineering around me. I can see how there is an entire college major dedicated to restaurant management because it really is it's own system. There were some boomers who placed a nightmare order today and you could tell that these Karens had never worked in a restaurant because they thought it was a good idea that all five of them individually call in their order at the exact same time and somehow expect it to make it onto the same ticket. 

The owner is practically already making me a manager. I am surprised at how few staff he has in the middle of a pandemic… I would have thought displaced hospitality workers would be desperate for work and there would be no opportunities and a lot of competition, and yet, here I am, getting a job as a server in the thick of it. I guess I was in the right place at the right time. I am also surprised by how little he knows about the operation of his own business despite being in business since before I was born. He doesn’t even know how to use the point of sale system and add new items to the menu. 

I think the food and atmosphere of this establishment is overrated and overpriced, but if it is expensive and popular, that means more tips for me. Imagine a middle-aged, bland Port Angeles guy trying to sell generic Italian food to Twilight-obsessed tween tourists. I don’t have to take this job quite so seriously, and he doesn’t seem to have his shit together in the least and it seems like he needs all the help he can get. I will ride this wave as long as I can; maybe I can even put "bookkeeping" on my resume. 

 Apparently Madeline was a senior server here. That makes sense; I could imagine she's worked at every restaurant in Sequim and Port Angeles in the past few years. I once saw her working at a tacky Thai food place in Sequim of all places, despite being the whitest of white girls. I could see her life unfolding before me. You really only need to know a few things about someone to know their whole story. Christian. Small business owner. Bleach blonde. Children's dance and music classes. And now she's strapped down to this boring hometown, desperately just trying to provide for her bastard son. I overheard one of the kitchen staff saying that she works full time at a vet clinic now, so at least she is getting out of hospitality and into a more career driven job. But she still waits tables on the side for any money she can get. 

I remember when I first saw her backstage at my dance recital all those years ago, with a round pregnant belly burgeoning off of her cute little body. I thought she was such an adult at the time but I’m just now realizing that she was younger then than I am now. I remember when she was a teenager and working the reception of the dance studio, and I thought she was old and mature then. I remember babysitting her kid that one time. They were probably extremely busy at that point in their lives (and still are) but they never invited me back. I was bad at it, it was terribly boring, and I charged $10/hr which I suppose was too high because they were surprised by my rate - says the people charging $200/month for three dance classes. Her mom said in a Facebook post about her children, “Madaline, you are exactly what James needs,” which somehow upsets me but I can’t explain why. 

I saw her with her mom and siblings at the Irrigation Festival once, struggling to carry her giant toddler on her small hip. I remember seeing on Facebook how hard it was in the beginning when James had health problems including recurrent seizures. 

I can only imagine what could have been going through her head when she took a positive test. There’s the obvious panic, but also things like This child will have lots of aunts and uncles from dad’s side. There really isn’t any choice when you come from her world. Her baby’s grandmother is literally a famous midwife. I looked up to Carol for a while and just remember that odd article she shared on Facebook about how pregnancy is always followed through with even in cases of a stranger attacking and raping young girls. Her own mother is running a business about how to raise children properly, and she ran the dance studio with her business partner Carry, who is raising her great-grandchild in absence of fifteen-year-old mom Ashley. This kind of thing happens frequently in her world, and she was among the unfortunate fallen. 

I wonder how James will feel when he gets old enough to realize that he was a mistake, and then old enough to realize that he was the product of an affair. Imagine having a kid with someone else right before you get married. I remember seeing Isaac’s gorgeous engagement photos several years ago on Instagram and feeling relieved until I realized that this woman he is marrying is not Madaline. And I heard at some point from her sister Analise that he had cheated on his wife with her. I can’t imagine how isolating and embarrassing that is to be The Other Woman doomed for the rest of your life with his child. He is a family man, yet his profile picture is of his wife and their daughter - his son nowhere to be seen. I am stalking his pictures again and it makes me absolutely sick to see so many basic people commenting such positive things. These hicks are living in a Christian trance. “I knew from the beginning that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her,” give me a break. He knew before, during, and after  he was having a baby with someone else? I can’t take this cheesy sentimental word salad. 

These people might be genuinely happy but I can’t believe that. And now she doesn’t even tag Isaac or any of his family in James’ happy birthday posts – she tags her two sisters and her mother. Of course, James is being raised by the women on the maternal side of his family. Madaline has a brother too but I guess Tanner doesn’t babysit. I found him on Instagram and the only think I could tell is that he lives in Utah now. Analise is in California working at a winery and posting basic instagram pictures only by luck of not ending up pregnant at 22. And to think all of this could have been avoided with a magic pill.

[wandering-chronicler-blog]

Draecember-Winter Veil Celebrations

This is a day late, but what the heck?  Also, the first one that I’m not actually following one of the prompts on as the original post said we could make up our own!  And what better for a day like this than some light fluffy fun and inebriation?

As always, special thanks to @mittensmcedgelord​ for letting me borrow some of their own WoW cast for this piece, even if it’s mostly just cameos.  Also, for the insane version of the carol that is sung in it.

-Previous Pieces:  Letter, Losing Someone, Memory and Dimensional Ship, Discovery, On a Mission, Feeling Left out and Facing a Fear, Working with The Horde, Family, Reunion With a Loved One, Relaxing,  Facing a Fear and Overcoming an Obstacle, Corruption and Regret  -

“I hate you so much right now,” Onyxien grumbled.

 “Well, you volunteered for this, so whose fault is that?” Vylia countered.  She carefully adjusted the strap for the single long fake horn that was now on the netherdrake’s head.  

 He reached up with a claw to tug at the horn, pulling it onto the side of his head.  Vylia quickly corrected it.  “I didn’t expect you to dress me up in a way that makes me look like the unholy offspring of a fel mutant and a talbuk.”

 “That’s for the part though!”  She smiled at him as she finished.  “Now quit clawing at the horn.”  The drake merely groaned and dug his claws into the stones of the Lower City of Shattrath. “So, what about your lines?”

 “Uhh…”

 “You did look at the script the matron gave us, did you?”

 “It may have…”

 “Onyxien…”  She folded her arms and looked down at him as he turned away slightly.

 “Hey, I can’t shift like some of my brethren,” he reminded her.  “Claws like this weren’t made for turning pages!”

 She sighed, running a hand through her hair.  “Alright, I’ll go get another copy from her then.  Maybe Ryant and the others will have finished some of the stage too.”

 “Hope the kids appreciate all the effort we went through too to get them actual snow and not just that conjured crap the Aldor and Scryers have thrown around here and there.”

 She smiled a little remembering some of the sights since they’d arrived again in Shattrath.  It’d only been a couple months since their raid on the Dragonmaw Fortress, but it had been a long few.  Everyone was looking forward to a little rest it seemed, even though everyone knew just what was on the horizon.  “They already do,” Vylia told him.  “I saw some of them having a snowball fight earlier.  And the orc boy and draenei girl made this snowman that looked like a two-headed ogre.  They called it Gol’Ragg.”

 That got a small chuckle out of Onyxien.  “Oh, good old Gol’Ragg.  He gave me and my clutchmates fresh ravager flesh whenever we dropped by.  And cookies.”

 “You know him?”

 “Yep.  He’d argue with himself over if he should give us any, but we all knew it was an act.  He’d always give us things from his shop.”  

 Vylia chuckled a little at the image in her head of several netherwing whelps pestering an ogre as he argued with himself over giving them scraps of meat.  “Alright.  Well, I’m gonna get us the script copy and see what the others are up to.”  She turned to go back into the old ruined building that was being used for the party.

 “Can I take this horn off at least?”

 She turned as she’d reached the doorway.  “Go show the kids.  They’ll love it!”

Inside, there were some locals, but she easily spotted members of The Dirty Dozen at work or taking breaks.  Guldel sat in red winter clothes that barely fit him at the bar next to the large bowl of egg nog.  Beldak, one of the orcs, was next to him.  At one of the tables the death knights Arran and Vylia’s sister, Seliira, sat playing a game of hearthstone, using coins as counters.  Chou was followed by a group of children as she walked past with a tray of cookies, stopping only to hand them out and warning them that they were still hot.  In the rafters was a massive snake, sliding about with holly behind it, carefully fixing it as he went.  For a moment, it shifted and changed with a flicker of magic into the troll Lor’raj to dangle over Guldel and Beldak with mistletoe in his hand.  The orc grabbed a fish off the bar and pressed its lips to the troll’s. Guldel laughed at the absurdity before Lor’raj fell from the ceiling into the tauren’s lap.  Beldak began to laugh in response as Vylia passed them.

 “On the twelth day of Winter Veil the Legion gave to meeeeeeeeeee!” an operatic voice sang. Vylia turned around to see the group’s warlock, Faelthos.  The former scryer took a long drink from his mug.  “Twelve heroes fleeing!  Eleven goblin cannons!  Ten orcs a-screaming!  Nine dreadlords scheming!”  Vylia had to laugh a little at the drunk blood elf as he belched far louder than she’d have thought possible.  “Eight mutant drakes!  Seven hellish portals!  Six Blackrock cultists!”  He took a deep breath and another drink.  “Fiiiiiiiiiiive tiiiiiiiime paradoxesssssssssssssss!”

 She turned away from him and headed towards the back, stopping only to glance at the game as Arran slid a box over to Seliira.  “Hey, you two seen the matron?” she asked quickly.

 “Nope,” her sister replied.

 “Think she was talking to Vad about something,” Arran replied as he dropped another minion on the board followed by a spell.  He grabbed a couple silvers from his wallet and dropped them on top of the minion to signify a buff.

 “Ugh, well played,” Seliira admitted, seeing the move.  She drew another card from her deck and grinned.

 “Uh-oh, I know that look.”

 “Alright, thanks,” Vylia said.  She turned from them as her sister played another card, eliciting a groan from Arran.

 “Four night elf hunters! Three dancing draenei!” Fael continued as Guldel pulled the bowl of egg nog away from him.  “Two trolling trolls…  And a demon lord named Saaaaaammmyyyyyyyy!”

 She pushed the door to the back rooms open, finding Vadralis talking briefly with Kagh’Gosh.  The orc gave a single grunt and hefted a massive bag before heading back into one of the other ones.  The night elf sighed as he folded his arms and reached up to rub his forehead.  He leaned back until he was against the wall.

 “Hey,” Vylia said, approaching him.  “Tired?”

 He turned his head towards her.  “Yeah, actually,” he said.  “Had some trouble sleeping recently.”

 “Mmm?”

 “Yeah.”  Vadralis looked away then, down on the floor. “Think some of it is still getting into the swing of all this.  Having trouble remembering some of the things I did.  And some trouble with hitting a target with my knives.”

 “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out.”  She moved next to him, slipping a hand on his shoulder.

 “You didn’t know.  I thought I was a goner in that blast too.”

 “Yeah…”  Vylia bowed her head a little then.  She’d still not told him of the couple days she’d spent trying to get back there to see if she could find proof he was dead or alive.    “Yeah, I know.”

 “Not the first time I’ve been captured.  Though I didn’t even know humans existed last time it happened.”

 She had to laugh slightly at it.  

 “I’ll bounce back. Just might take some time.”    He looked up at her then, eyes resting on her hand for a moment.  “Glad you didn’t forget about me though.”

 “How could I have?  I…”  She almost added to her thoughts, but kept from doing so, though it was a bit of a relief to see a small smile on his lips.  There was silence between them as they heard Fael out in the main room begin another song.  It sounded like Chou had joined him as well in singing.

  “Nice to have a Winter Veil party again,” he said finally.

 “Yeah,” Vylia agreed. “It’s Sel’s first too.  Nice to have family with me for once on one of these events.”  She almost let go of his shoulder, but noticing how he moved just a little closer made her keep her hand there.  “Any word from your sisters since we got you out?”

 “Got them a message from one of the Shattered Sun vets on his way back to Stormwind.  And just the other day I got a letter from one of them. Frankly relieved I was alive.  Kept telling her husband that I was too damn stubborn to die.”  They both laughed a little at it.  “The other one named her newborn son after me thinking I’d died in the line of duty about a month ago.  She’s probably heard the news now too.”  He smiled sadly a little, his eyes tearing slightly.  “Kinda wish I could go back and see them.  But we’ve got a lot to do here.”  He reached up then and slipped his fingers between hers.  “And I’m glad that I get to spend it free and with someone important to me.”

 “Vad…”  She bowed her head just a little as their eyes met and her lips curled into a soft smile.  “Thank you. This’ll be one to remember.  I’ll make sure of it.”

 “I’m sure it will be already.”  He smirked at her.  “Even if only because Onyxien is participating in a play of How The Greench Stole Winter Veil for the orphanage.  And Beldak spiking the egg nog because it was ‘too weak’ by his standards.”

 She snickered a bit at how the netherdrake would look with the horn she’d spent nearly twenty minutes fussing with and the ridiculous red nose they still had to put on his snout. “Yeah.  Hey, speaking of which.  Have you seen Matron Mercy?  Onyxien shredded the script she gave us with his claws.”

 Vadralis shook his head. “Last I saw she put her husband in charge of watching over the place while she went to get something from one of the Skettis Outcasts.  Think it’s for the feast that’s planned.”

 “Aaah.  Guess we’ll get it later then.”   She let go of his shoulder then and he unlaced his fingers from hers.  “So, while we wait then, wanna get a drink?  Before Fael has it all?”

 “Heh.  Yeah.”  They started back to the door, sound of singing growing louder.  Fael and Chou were standing on top of the bar now, arm in arm and singing carols in panderan while they each had drinks in their free hands. Beldak was laughing as he watched the two dance slightly even.  The goblins Kikri and Ryant were standing on a table chatting excitedly about some device they’d come up with while Seliira was unwrapping the box that Arran had given her earlier.  Neither saw what it was, but she practically jumped across the table startling the other death knight as they landed on the ground as she made a squeal of delight. And at the bar, Guldel merely grabbed the entire bowl of egg nog and put it to his lips after a long sigh.

  “I know I’ve only been here a few months,” Vadralis started, “but is this kind of…  Insanity normal?”

 “Oh, this is actually kinda tame,” Vylia admitted.  Something then dangled right in front of her face.  She waved a hand away and it was pulled out of reach.  Looking up was Lor’raj, in his snake shape in the rafters, dropping the mistletoe out of his mouth before slithering away.

 “And I see Lor is still pestering people with the mistletoe…”  He sighed. “No wonder Guldel is drinking like a naga.”

 Vylia laughed a little, biting her lower lip as he looked back at her.  She thought briefly about it, but ultimately decided there’d be no harm. Besides, the troll had been dangling it all night over people.  “Eh, what the hell?”  Her hands slipped onto Vadralis’ face and she gave him a soft kiss on the lips.  To her joy, he returned her affection before a loud crash grabbed their attention and they both turned back to the holiday mayhem.

#draecember #draecember2017 #Warcraft #Draenei #fanfic #Vylia #Vadralis #Seliira

[valkyrie-echo]

Project Echo, Part 1: Chapter 29 (Hack the Feed)

Part 1 Summary: A long-buried Hydra disaster, a monster in the shadows, a missing child. Eight months after the events of “The Winter Soldier”, Bucky turns himself in to the Avengers on one condition: They must help him find a girl snatched off the streets by Hydra seven years ago. In their quest, the Avengers accidentally unleash a horrifying creature of darkness and shadow, intent on making their quarry its prey.

Chapter 29: Hack The Feed

It wasn't always the same video. Whoever was doing this to Bucky switched it constantly. Whenever he was alone some new scene would play- and whenever he wasn't it would come over his comm. He was getting the highlights of two of the most brutal years of his life-

-and Dennisson was loving every frame of it. On the second day, before Bucky began avoiding anything with a screen, he spliced in a few of his favorite clips- the things he let the guards do to Echo while the Winter Soldier was away on missions. It was unfortunate, he'd only shared three when Bucky smashed the computer and refused to be alone. Still, the audio haunted him for hours.

While Banner sat with him, the rest of the Avengers gathered in conference. "Is he having a psychotic break?" Tony directed his question at Sam, the closest thing they had to a psychologist.

"Maybe," he chose his words carefully, "or it could just be exhaustion. We saw this when he first got in, it's just more prolonged. He's hallucinating, seeing and hearing things that aren't there. It could be a simple matter of sedating him for a few days. A full-blown break though... It's a big call to make, and too early to make it. Plus," he reminded them, "I'm not qualified to give anything resembling a professional opinion."

"He's going to give himself an aneurysm," Clint shook his head.

"You're sure it's in his head?" Steve asked Tony for the hundredth time.

"JARVIS has done every scan he's got. No outside signals getting in or vice versa, and I swapped out the embedded comm days ago. There are signal jammers on every floor, if he's getting audio or video input I'm at a loss to explain where it's coming from."

"Clint? Anything?" Steve was hoping for some kind of answer other than 'crazy'.

"I've gone through every setting," Clint reached into one ear and pulled out a tiny black hearing aid. It was like popping his ears in reverse, he felt suddenly lopsided, "I can hear the electricity in the damned walls but, no, I'm not picking up any sound like what he's describing."

Steve shook his head, "What about Maria Hill? Did SHIELD have anything that JARVIS couldn't detect? Maybe it's Hydra."

"No one has been in this Tower but us, even if there was tech, how do you think it would have gotten in here?"

Natasha frowned, "That's not entirely true, right?"

Tony turned to her, "What do you mean?"

"The repair crews," she gestured to the lights, "Didn't they install new gear in the ceiling?"

"Are you suggesting they're Hydra?"

"No," she shook her head, "not all of them. I vetted them, remember? But- I don't know, was there anyone new on the crew? Not one of the regular guys?"

"Just Bill's wife's cousin's nephew's- hell, I don't know. Some relative. Scrawny guy."

Natasha shrugged, "It's worth consideration," she spoke up for JARVIS, "can you give us a family tree for this 'Bill' guy?"

A projector lowered from the ceiling and several photographs filled the screen, "All living relatives of William Kurschner III."

Tony studied the faces and frowned, "Call up security footage of shorty."

A few seconds later the man's face appeared. He wasn't in any of Bill's family photos. "JARVIS-"

"Checking Interpol and SHIELD data bases," JARVIS got to work immediately.

Steve tapped his comm, "Banner, bring in Bucky please. We might have something."

Dennisson pouted as he flipped between the feed of Bucky and the feed of the Avengers. They'd started deciphering his little trick too quickly. He was hoping to strip the man of his sanity first, and by the looks of it the Winter Soldier still had a bit of mind to spare.

Bucky flinched as he came into the room and looked away from the screen. He had a bad tremor in his right hand.

"We need you to look at the screen, Bucky," Sam came over and put a hand on his metal shoulder. Bucky was blinking rapidly and black bags sagged under his eyes, "Someone might be doing this to you, we need to know if you recognize this person."

"S-so you don't think I'm crazy anymore?" he'd been alienated from the Avengers since all this began. They treated him like some fragile kook, not taking his fears seriously. He didn't blame them, he was pretty sure now he was losing his mind too. He lifted his head though and forced himself to look at the man's face on the screen. He was about to say he didn't recognize him, then he frowned and cocked his head at an angle, "Can you add a beard? A short one?"

JARVIS added to the image and Bucky studied it for a long time. Pieces were taking a while to click into place, but he got it eventually, "I think so? I can't be sure, it was a very long time ago, before 'Project: Echo' even."

Tony looked from the man's face to Bucky, "Who is he?"

"Hydra," the more Bucky looked at the face, the more sure he was. He flinched as fresh screams filled his head. A particularly vulgar assault on Inessa by a guard. Bucky took little satisfaction in the familiarity of the guard's voice- it held a very distinctive growl. He remembered disemboweling the man upon his return from a mission for precisely what he was doing on the audio track.

Another image of the man appeared next to the security footage, "File found," JARVIS chimed in, "Gregory Tyson, Hydra special asset. Confined to Hydra Asylum Wonju after convincing his supervising agent to kill his children, reportedly over a disagreement on the number of acceptable casualties on a mission. He was diagnosed a sociopath with a narcissistic personality disorder."

"Dennisson," Bucky breathed, "it has to be Dennisson."

"The guy in charge of 'Project: Echo'?" Bucky nodded to Clint, "Oh, great. That's really great."

Tony cursed, "Have the remote suits rip up the ceiling- anywhere the crews worked. Find any unregistered tech and dismantle it."

"Of course, sir," the suits deployed.

Dennisson waved Morris over, "Turn on the second device. I want to speak to him directly."

"Yes, sir," the first device hacked sound and audio feeds. The second allowed a much more direct form of communication. The third- Morris hoped the third would not be exposed. It was his favorite.

The screaming cut out suddenly and Bucky rubbed his ear. He heard breathing. "Ssh," he silenced the others and frowned, listening.

"Hello, Winter Soldier. Have you been enjoying my playlist? I filled it with music I thought you'd like."

"What do you want, Dennisson?"

There was a long pause, "I'm sorry," Dennisson chuckled, "did you say something? Unfortunately I can't hear you- but do you remember? I like to be heard, and I don't care much for backtalk. I just wanted to let you know you're going to come straight to me soon. You'll beg me to kill you, and that's a promise."

Bucky waved to Tony, "Where's the security camera in here?" Tony pointed to the smoke detector. Bucky flipped it off.

Dennisson smiled to himself, "I hope you and your new friends enjoy this as much as I will."

Dennisson deactivated the microphone. Morris was anxious, would the man make the right call? "What next? Activate the third device?"

"Not just yet, let them stew for a while," he chuckled, "then we introduce the Avengers to the full might of 'Project: Helius'."

Chapter 30: The Third Device

#avengers #marvel #my writing

[soldierporn]

Giunta gives Medal of Honor to 173rd Airborne.

Former Staff Sgt. Sal Giunta gives his Medal of Honor to 173rd Airborne Brigade Commander Colonel Greg Anderson during a ceremony marking a new memorial to the brigade's 18 Medal of Honor awardees on July 6, 2017, in Vicenza, Italy. Giunta, who was awarded the medal in 2010, said it belonged to the brigade.

(Article and photo by NANCY MONTGOMERY/STARS AND STRIPES, 7 JUL 2017. Source.)

The Medal of Honor has always hung heavily around Staff Sgt. Salvatore Giunta’s neck. On Wednesday, he finally got to take it off.

In a ceremony marking the 173rd Airborne Brigade’s new memorial to all the brigade’s soldiers who earned the military’s highest award, the former Subway sandwich maker unfastened the medal’s blue ribbon from his neck and handed it over to the brigade commander.

“It can’t be with me because it’s ours,” said Giunta. In 2010, for his heroic actions during an ambush in Afghanistan, became the first living man to earn the medal since the Vietnam War.

“I want this to stay in Vicenza, Italy, with the 173rd, with the men and women who earn this every single day through their selflessness and sacrifice,” he said.

Giunta’s gift to the brigade came near the beginning of a casual, 45-minute event in which privates, children, and civilians strolled with war heroes, sergeants major and a major general along a brick walkway on a balmy Italian evening. The walkway, stretching from the brigade headquarters to the gym, is lined with 18 memorials to men who, on what was frequently the worst and final day of their lives, displayed conspicuous gallantry and uncommon valor.

Two fought in World War II, 13 fought in Vietnam and three fought in Afghanistan, including Giunta, Sgt. Kyle White and Staff Sgt. Ryan Pitts. All are remembered with a stone pedestal bearing plaques that show their faces and recite their heroic deeds.

Brigade commander Colonel Greg Anderson says the 173rd is the most decorated brigade in the Army. “I don’t say that to brag. I don’t say it as a point of pride,” he said. “I say that to emphasize that the brigade has always received the difficult missions.”

Giunta, then a 22-year-old specialist with B Company, 2nd Battalion, 503rd Infantry Regiment, was several nights into an October 2007 mission in the Korengal Valley when his unit was ambushed and began taking casualties. He repeatedly exposed himself to fire to pull fellow soldiers to safety and threw grenades to advance into a wall of bullets. Alone he charged headlong as bullets whizzed past toward enemy fighters, whom he saw carrying off a wounded American, one of his best friends.

“Sal never broke stride. He leapt forward. He took aim. He killed one of the insurgents and wounded the other, who ran off,” President Barack Obama said at Giunta’s ceremony.

Giunta’s friend, Sgt. Joshua Brennan, died from his wounds, as did the platoon medic, Spc. Hugo Mendoza.

Such losses make it hard for surviving soldiers to accept their medals for heroism. So does the military “band of brothers and sisters” ethos: No one does anything alone. “Hearing the Medal of Honor is like a slap in the face,” Giunta told Vanity Fair several years ago. “I don’t think you know what I did. I didn’t do s---.”

On Wednesday, he acknowledged a six-year struggle to come to terms with the honor. “I’m not here because I’m a great soldier. I’m here because I served with great soldiers,” he said.

Giunta has spent the past several years on the speakers’ circuit. In a few weeks, he will be an economics major at Colorado State University. His wife, Jennifer, a registered nurse, attended the ceremony and took all the adulation of her husband in stride. “We have a regular life at home,” she said. The couple have two children.

The brigade had planned to bring retired Lt. Col. Alfred Rascon to the event. Rascon, who was unable to attend, was awarded the Medal of Honor in 2000 for his actions as a medic in Vietnam in 1964, when he repeatedly used his body to shield the men he worked to save from enemy fire.

But other Vietnam vets made the trip, including Dave Gardner, from Memphis, Tenn. “We were the beginning of this,” he said, referring to the 173rd’s storied involvement in Vietnam.

“You want to see what people are doing with your legacy.”

Gardner, 70, who said he spent 43 months in combat and whose son is an Army Ranger now in Iraq on his fifth deployment, assayed the new memorial. “Marvelous,” he said.

#remember the fallen #Medal of Honor #MOH #KIA #US Army #173rd ABCT #memorial #Sal Giunta

[segolily]

Side eyeing a friend request on Facebook.

I got this woman as a client years ago when I still worked corporate. She had this poorly bred yet very sweet standard poodle puppy. Dog was perfect for grooming, she did many training classes with her, very well socialized, friendly, outgoing dog.

Yet, despite this she would come in with very severe bite and scratch wounds, some which required stitches. Her owner told me that she would go into a sudden, violent, aggressive rage and attack her, but never did it to me while grooming. When the dog was 9 months old or so she went into a grand mal seizure that she never woke up from. The vet suspects that, with this and her sudden aggression that the dog had some sort of neurological issue, perhaps being deprived of oxygen at birth. Maybe even rage syndrome? She was sadly euthanized.

I had grown close with this client by then, we were Facebook friends and something odd happened. Vegas’ breeder, who lives 5 hours away, asked me if I was able to reach out to one of Vegas’ half sisters, who was in a bad home situation. I messaged the client of mine to see if she would want this dog, she responded that she was actually going to message me to see about getting another dog.

Well, I ended up getting her a well bred, stable, health tested, beautiful dog for free. However, I think with the neurological issue from her first dog made her very paranoid about the health of this new one. She assumed all of these health issues were going on, went to multiple vets, and spent thousands of dollars treating ailments that simply weren’t there. She also worked up her anxiety taking the dog places and, while the dog was very well behaved the first few times I groomed her, she started displaying negative behaviors at time went on.

I would go to her house after work and do the dogs nails at her home, not charging even though she shoved tips at me. Come Christmas Eve and I have the dog on my schedule, I had blocked out smaller slots to make sure I would have time to groom a standard poodle but corporate groomers are just SO GREAT at scheduling and booked me full of small dogs on top of her.

I called an hour and a half after drop off telling her owner that I hadn’t gotten to her yet and would when I could, but she said she was just going to come pick her up and we’d groomer her at a later date. The later date comes by and she brings the dog in, telling me that the dog was just shaking when she pulled up, and the owner’s own anxiety was up at this point.

I then kindly point out that she needs to come into the salon calm herself, and that she was working her dog up, she replied with, “So, it’s because you left her in the fucking kennel forever the last time she was here.” OKAY. YEAH. I don’t tolerate people swearing at me and so I was very curt with my responses when I took the dog and groomed her.

After she took the dog home I made a note on her file that I would no longer take the dog for grooming, but it probably wasn’t needed because the owner also removed me from Facebook and blocked me and I was just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

I find out later that she then went through finding a new groomer, messaging them all of these awful, untrue things about me. Saying I was rough with her dog because I was angry with her? Um, no? Ironically she was messaging groomers that I KNEW who told me about what she did. Whatever, I left that salon shortly after and ended up taking a job in an entirely different county.

She sent me a new friend request on Facebook not long ago and I’m wondering why. I’m half tempted to accept it just to give her a chance to apologize.

#dog grooming #oops #that was long

[commonsensewizard]

A Few Things

A petition signed by 240 was aimed at changing the prom date at Brooklyn Technical High School because it conflicted with Ramadan. Thankfully, the school administration said the date would not change. However, all Protestants, Catholics, Hindus, Buddhists, Taoists, Jehovah’s Witness, Mormons, Seventh Day Adventists, Greek Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, Quakers and others not Muslim will have to curb their appetite and be inconvenienced as food will not be served until the Muslims are allowed to eat per their religious restrictions. If you don’t see what’s wrong here, no amount of explaining will help you recover from your coma.

 The Manchester bombing is another glaring indication of political correctness, lawyer insanity, and liberal thinking run amok. Here we have a guy on the ‘radar’, a man of suspicion, one on the ‘list’ of ‘possibles’, of whom they KNOW has gone to Libya, Syria and has shown multiple signs of radicalism...and yet he is allowed to roam free until he slaughters 22 and wounds many more. THAT’S when the reactive investigative forces go forth, bravely I might add, and begins to arrest more than a dozen people...and boy did they do it FAST and FURIOUS!!!! Man are they ON TOP of things. Talk about the proverbial closing the barn door after the horse gets out. Then, we have real idiots on this Manchester case who say, “Until we complete the investigation, we can’t be certain the case is closed.” YA THINK????? Well, thank you very much Captain Obvious. Our Western law enforcement folks are not allowed to be proactive to save lives, NOOOOOOO, they have to keep the ole cuffs on themselves for fear of being labeled racist, Islamophobic, profilers, Nazis, Fascists, or whatever sickening term you want to use. But when little girls get blown up, then the screaming begins and the finger pointing begins and the shrill screech for defense of the perpetrator’s civil rights from the left drowns out the blood curdling screams of the dying and those who lost them forever....right before their eyes. So, let’s keep doing it your way, liberals. No profiling, even though 99% of terrorist attacks on the west are Muslim. No proactive policing when the signs are there someone may be a real threat. We’ll just keep on waiting until they have a high body count, and then we’ll get cracking, boy! Let’s keep cheering the judges who cry ‘inhumane’ when our present administration wants the ‘law’ to be followed and wants to properly vet those who are coming from countries that vehemently and avowedly hate us and everything we stand for. Let’s keep on keeping on with what we’re doing. But, when the knife blade meets the flesh of your throat, don’t say a word about it. Not one word. It will be a bed you made.

Can you imagine the uproar if a comedian had held up a bloodied mask of Obama’s face in a photo shoot? Do you even want to imagine it? I don’t. The nuclear blast of offended-dom would have obliterated us all. Kathy Griffin, who has LONG used up her fifteen minutes and is desperately trying not to fade into the oblivion of being heaped on the garbage pile of irrelevance (as if she was ever relevant), was stupid enough to do that with a mask of Donald Trump, as if she was holding up his severed head. It wouldn’t have been funny with Obama, and it isn’t funny now. She has since apologized and that should make everything okay, right? Wrong. There is still something in this world that is called poor taste, and that qualifies. Many years ago an ‘artist’ displayed a glass case, filled with urine, that he had placed a crucifix inside, and labeled it “Piss Christ”. It didn’t offend me, because my God is big enough to defend Himself. He doesn’t need His followers to take vengeance for Him....like some others I’ve read about. But it was in poor taste. Just like Griffin’s main act has always been. She just took it to another level, and this escapade should be the end of her career. But it won’t be. The intense hatred and vitriol coming from the left will lift her up and she will be hailed as a hero. That is the level of indecency in which we as a nation have fallen into. On the series M*A*S*H, when Trapper was accused of having his mind in the gutter, he replied, “I can’t help it. That’s where the rest of me is.” Perfect description of our nation. Perfect picture of where we are when that type of garbage is allowed.

Why are we so distraught over this fat, goober looking idiot that is running North Korea? He is an idiot, but a smart idiot. He throws a missile in the ocean and the news media wrings their hands and goes into SPREAD THE FEAR TIME, wanting all of us to cringe at the thought of Kim Hung Chow lobbing one to Hawaii or, God forbid, California. If he’ll wait a couple of years, the San Andreas fault will take care of that La La Land for all of us. All we are doing is giving him what he wants. Like any spoiled little rich kid with power, he craves attention. Of all the countries in the world, this one is the most to be pitied. It’s people are starving. They have no hope. They have been told that when the rest of the world celebrates Christmas, they are really celebrating his grandma’s birthday. And they better clap and smile and be happy about it or they will be shot in the head. Little Lord Flat Tire for Haircut Head has banned Christmas, opting instead to make the country worship his grandmother. He’s not going to nuke us because he’s smart enough to know what would happen to his play pen if he did. No, he’s loving every minute of this notoriety and attention. If we really want to make him angry, ignore the little jerk, apart from sanctions that border national strangulation. Anything more, and we’re just playing the game he loves. It’s called, LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME!!!!!!

Lastly, but most importantly, was the nauseating story of Jacob Schwartz, 29, an up and coming Democrat in New York and on Mayor de Blasio’s administrative staff. Allegedly, he has been under scrutiny by law enforcement since last March and, allegedly, they found 3000 photos of kiddie porn, along with 89 videos of same, on a computer he handed over to them during the investigation. Now, as if child porn isn’t bad enough, the type investigators found on this guy’s computer makes me feel sorry for them, as well as the child victims. Once you see something, you can’t un-see it. Some of the photos and videos showed girls, as young as six month old babies, having some sort of sexual perversion performed on them by a man. If it turns out he is guilty as charged, there should be no other sentence passed down but immediate, forthright, Do Not Pass Go, bullet to the back of the head. And the court should allow one or more of the cops that were on the case and had to look at such filth be the ones who get to do it. Those images they will never be able to erase from their brain. It will haunt them until the day they die. It is my sincere hope they can find the man or men in the photos/videos, and that when they do, they are allowed to kill them once they positively identify them. This type of crime is too horrendous to adequately describe. Schwartz’s father had this ridiculous comment: “He’s already in therapy for this.” THERAPY???? REALLY??? The crime is too sick to comprehend. NO amount of therapy is going to help this guy IF he’s guilty. Kill him after he’s had a fair trial. If not for people like him, there would be no market for the filth who make the images. These are not people. They are vermin. And should be treated as such when found irrefutably guilty. There should be no room for rehabilitation and there should be no expenditure or effort to that end. Simply kill them, and then take out the trash.

#Brooklyn Technical High School #prom #Muslim #Muslims #American Muslims #ramadan #Manchester bombing #terrorism #domestic terrorism #domestic terrorist #law enforcement #Libya #Syria #Islam #radical islam #Islamophobia #Islamophobe #islamophobes #Kathy Griffin #piss christ #trump #Donald trump #obama #barak obama #North Korea #nuclear weapons #missiles #nuclear missiles #Kim Jong Un #Hawaii

[sissie-fiction]

So this is a personal story from a few years ago. I feel the need to share and get it off my chest. I am an experienced pet groomer and this is an experience that contributed to my burnout of the career that I excelled in.

At the time I worked at Petco and had an amazing team behind me. Now I will freely admit that I am an all around empath but the one that affects me the most and is very hard to control is emotional empathy and as such my emotions can be knocked up to 10 in certain situations. My coworkers knew about this and as such were always willing to stand in as a calming presence when needed. My store team at the time of this story we're not only accepting of my differences but went out of their way to accommodate me.

This is the story.

I had a cocker come in for grooming. Unfortunately that day our opening groomer's daughter was sick and had to call out, leaving our new bather traine alone for just under an hour so I could come in early. This lady dropped off a cocker and the traine had her sign everything including the matting release form and told her I would call as soon as I got in. I clearly remember her stating when I called to just do what I needed to do. In hind sight she didn't seem to really be interested in what I was trying to go over about the groom and confirming that everything I needed to do the best job for her that I could. In the end she just said she would pick up after work. Okay works for me. Still gave her a call and left a VM once I was done and gave a summery of the groom like I do with ALL my clients.

Now, it's a little around 5pm when she shows up to pick the pup up. I am still there waiting on my last dog (a sweet one eyed pitty girl) and have finished all my other dogs so I had time to go over in detail how to help the pup recover. I was 90% sure the pup was abused but unfortunately I didn't have any legal grounds to intervene. As I went over the groom, how to help recover, the next groom, recommend having a vet check him out, etc...it seemed like she wasnt really caring. Showed her the bill and she refused to pay it without seeing the dog. Not a problem. I had one of our other bathers bring her out for her to see but told her as it was such a high bill that I would have to see the reciet before I could hand him over. Our store had had several problems with people not paying grooming bills.

Once the lady saw the pup she threatened to have me arrested for shaving her cocker when it had severe matting. I had to have the store manager and salon manager come in and stand with me as she continued to threaten me. I don't know how long it was but I finally butted in after she refused to let both my managers talk and I proceeded to explain, in a semi-loud emotional voice that we had video and physical proof of the abuse she had put the poor baby through with those mats as well as the condition and behavior of her dog. Her attitude just got more snearing. I blew up internally and told her I could get her arrested AND have the pup placed in a special needs foster family in a matter of hours. That's the first and only time I have ever told that to a stranger.

Lady didn't believe me until my request client walked in and quickly confirmed that it was true. (Thank gods for clients like her! I still get Christmas cards from her.)

Like lady I'm overly involved in our small town when it comes to animals. I don't bluff when it comes to this stuff. I've shaved a dog before with such severe matting that it's right front leg fell off! (Thank gods I worked at a vet at that time and could simply call one of the docs from around the corner!)

Of course it was only after she realized I wasn't bluffing and had multiple people backing up my power that she admitted that the pup wasn't even hers!!! Belonged to a neighbor who was in the military and stationed overseas. The pup was too old to travel and so he left his baby with them and was sending them money to pay for his care. Which included monthly grooms!!!! (Found all that after the fact.)

I was so lucky that I had a request client at the time who was also part of our senior police staff. (For the life of me I can't remember his title.) I also happened to have his personal number (but that's another story) so I gave him a ring at which time she literally left the store without the pup.

He arrived within 5 minutes with 1 of his new guys (awesome dude, lives in my apartment complex) and when I showed them the dog and the others backed up my story he was on it. Seriously! Lady was brought in on charges. And I had to give a statement and everything! Took a few days but we got ahold of the owner in Germany and had a video meeting. Dude was literally crying.

Turns out that he had raised the pup by hand since birth. The pup was only supposed to be with the neighbors for 6 months. His sister was moving into his house from Hawaii to to work at our towns university. What was supposed to be easier for the poor pup actually hurt him.

In the end we actually had one of our town vets volunteer to house him and help with his recovery. The lady had to pay all the vet bills thank gods. And I met the owners sister when she arrived. He actually ended up selling the house and moved across town. Small house but big yard. Nice place. I remember meeting him in person when he got back almost a year later and his pup was still there to be with him. Spent every moment with him before he passed peacefully just 2 months later. The fact that I was his first call after that was just heartbreaking and at the same time made me feel like family.

Currently he hasn't gotten another pet as he has decided that he needs a few years to recover but I know when he's ready that it will be loved and never have to worry about anything.