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revolutionbuildersllcor · 1 year

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Fun Things To Do in Medford Oregon

Medford, Oregon is a fun place to visit. It has great food, beautiful scenery, and plenty to do! I'm going to tell you about some of my favorite places in Medford so that when you come to visit you can have an awesome time too.

Vodka tasting at Crater Lake

Want to get a more sophisticated buzz? Some of the best vodkas in the country are made right here in Medford, Oregon. The vodka is distilled from potatoes and aged in barrels that were once used for bourbon or whiskey. A local family runs the distillery, and they produce their own spirits onsite. The business also has tasting rooms where you can sample any of their fine liquors—including gin, rum, and whiskey—to your heart’s content!

If you want to learn more about this process, check out one of these two cool events:

Vodka 101: A Tasting Class – $35 (2 hours)

Learn how vodka gets made by touring Crater Lake Distillery before taking part in an educational tasting session that will teach you how to identify different types of vodkas by taste alone (no glasses required). This class starts at 10 am every Saturday morning but spaces fill up quickly so be sure to book well ahead if you want to attend!

Go to the Medford Farmers Market.

The Medford Farmers Market is a market where you can buy fresh produce, homemade food, and products, and even get your pet's food. The location of market is at the corner of Main Street and Riverside Drive. You can expect to find vegetables that are in season, as well as some out-of-season vegetables or fruits. There are also meat products sold here such as beef jerky, bison burgers, chicken breast strips, and pork chops. You can also purchase desserts like brownies or cookies from local bakeries like Big O's Cookies & Sweets (which has been featured on Food Network).

The farmers market is open every Saturday from 8 AM to 1 PM during spring through fall months (November - April), and closed during winter months (May - October). Admission into the market costs $0 for adults due to its location being part of a public park area; there will be booths selling tickets for rides/attractions nearby if interested in those activities instead!

Hike Table Rock

If you like to hike, Table Rock is the place for you. This trail is short and sweet, but it’s also a great workout. The trail begins at the Crater Lake Lodge and climbs up several switchbacks before reaching Table Rock (a 1,200-foot elevation gain). Once at the top of this plateau-like rock, you’ll be rewarded with views of nearby Wizard Island, Mount Scott, and Mount Thielsen in addition to Crater Lake itself! If you get lucky with weather conditions or go during peak wildflower season (May), there are tons of wildflowers along the way that will make your hike even more magical.

Visit the Rogue Creamery.

Located in a tiny town called Central Point, this artisanal cheese maker is well-known as a tourist attraction. In addition to making some of Oregon's best cheeses and ice creams, it has a tasting room and gift shop where you can sample its delicious products. There's also a restaurant that serves up fresh sandwiches and soups made with their cheese (and you thought sandwiches were just for lunch). If you're not into eating out then stop by for the picnic area where you can pack your own lunch or order one from their restaurant menu to enjoy in the park setting outside!

Look for Sasquatch at Collier State Park.

If you're looking for something to do that's weird and wonderful, then look no further than Collier State Park. You can find Sasquatch here!

Sasquatch is a legendary creature, which supposedly lives in the forests of Oregon and Washington. It is said to eat berries and nuts from trees, but unlike Bigfoot, it doesn't like beer or pizza (or maybe they just don't get along). As with other mythical creatures such as dragons and fairies, there have not been any real sightings of Sasquatch—but that doesn't mean you can't try!

Collier State Park is part of the Coast Range mountains; it covers more than 3,000 acres near the city of Medford. It has plenty of hiking trails where you might be able to spot some furry beasties lurking around the bushes or hiding behind trees—check out their website for more information about camping at this park if you want an overnight stay!

Remodeling Services are an effective way

Medford remodeling is a great way to add value to your home. Whether you are improving the kitchen or redoing a bathroom, there are plenty of opportunities to make your house feel like a new place. You also have many options when it comes to decoration and colors. Medford has a lot going on so let us help you find something that interests you

Revolution Builders is a great company.

This company is dedicated to providing quality home repair and remodeling services. From kitchens and bathrooms to basements, roofing and siding, new windows and doors, carpentry, and more - we will help you solve your home improvement issues. Revolution Builders, LLC is a licensed contractor that provides personalized service for all home renovation projects

Revolution Builders, LLC

3619 Aviation Way, Medford, OR 97504

(541) 210-3205https://revolution-builders.com/

#medford builders #medford construction #medford remodeling #construction companies medford or #Southern Oregon Home Builders

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women-for-reproductive-rights · 1 year

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Chapter 9 & 10: Female Reproductive rights and Campaigns

Finally we reach the last couple of chapters of this blog where I outline what I hope to do in the future. Today I am talking about specific goals I have for the next five to ten years. Obviously I want to work in civil liberties and work specifically for advocating for women seeking reproductive freedoms. First of all I hope to work for these guaranteed rights in areas where women need the most help and are the most under represented, thus New Orleans.

Last summer I had the amazing opportunity to go to New Orleans for my Twenty First birthday, this of course was one of the most fun trips I have ever been on. However, among the having a great birthday on Frenchmen and Bourbon Street I meet multiple women on the street advocating for Female Reproductive rights. This was definitely a little surprising because of the political climate in New Orleans and the fact that it was one of the first states to completely reverse laws allowing freedom of reproductive rights in the state. The women I talked to were volunteers for the ACLU in New Orleans and trying to gain more voices for protests, town halls, policy writing, and overall canvasing. I remember her telling me that she I was the first person to talk to her that day and that she felt like she was "fighting the fight alone and against a large dragon".

This girl really stuck with me for the rest of my vacation how she was advocating for people's better future in an areas where no one will listen. Due to my close connections to the South, and my love for New Orleans I instantly wanted to help her. I wanted to sign up for her protests and come to her town halls, but I realized something more. the ACLU in New Orleans needed more than just more political voices, they needed Legal help to legitimatize their voices in the South. I vowed on that day I would come back and become a lawyer fighting for Female Reproductive rights in the South. This is because it is hurting the most vulnerable people.

With that being said, I hope to attend Law School in Louisiana before 2025 focusing specifically on Civil Liberties. I want to ensure that all women are represented in the South and gain representation for vulnerable and statistically under represented people who are seeking reproductive healthcare. With my time at USM i feel as if I am prepared to attend Law School and promote the avocation of women in the South.

Along with working with nonprofits in New Orleans to help women gain reproductive freedoms, I am also extremely interesting in working on campaigns for Liberal Political Representatives and Senators. I really got inspired by doing this when I traveled to Philadelphia with the Model United Nations and I had the opportunity to go see Barrack Obama and Joe Biden talk in favor of voting in Pennsylvania. Both men as accomplished as they are also really helped to inspire and move the crowd to not only vote in Favor of Pennsylvania representatives but to inspire people to want to help with their campaigns. I have have always kind of been a salt of the earth girl and I would really enjoy helping and doing the grunt work to ensure representation in political campaigns especially those revolving around Women reproductive rights.

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books-in-a-storm · 3 years

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Snowflake Book Review’s

Title: Dragons of Bourbon Street(Jade Calhoun #9)

Author: Deanna Chase

Pages:212

Snowflake Rating:❄❄❄❄(4/5)

Synopsis: White witch Jade Calhoun is seven months pregnant. All she wants to do is sink into domestic bliss while enjoying planning wedding and baby showers. But when a new acquaintance is arrested by the Witches Council and then mysteriously disappears, Jade is pulled into the thick of things. Forced by the Witches Council to track down the missing woman, Jade finds herself once again dealing with dragons. It should be a piece of cake, right? All she needs to do is track down the woman who escaped the Council, stop the dragons from awakening and taking over the city, and still find time to celebrate life’s milestones… all while in her third trimester.

First And Last Sentence: Here

#snowflake reviews #urban fantasy star review #urban fantasy #bookblr #books #booklr #dragons of bourbon street #deanna chase #bookworm #recommendations #april 2021

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Day 52: Tattoos

When he left the Wizarding World, Harry hadn't thought too much about what would happen to Draco Malfoy after he testified for him at his trial.

If pressed, he probably would have assumed that Malfoy would have continued in his father's footsteps. He would have imagined well tailored suits and robes, long blonde hair, the same aristocratic nose tipped in the air.

So, perhaps his jaw all but hitting the floor when he saw the other man for the first time in five years was understandable.

And it wasn't the fact that he was walking into the muggle bar that Harry worked at that shocked him, it was the fact that Malfoy had trimmed his hair short on the sides and left the top long; it was that he'd dyed it hot pink.

It was the fact that his left arm had a muggle tattoo covering the dark mark that had once been there with beautiful, bright flowers; new life coming out of death. It was the dragon tattoo peaking out of the collar of his shirt, that Harry guessed, was shaped around his namesake constellation.

It was the loose, black v-neck, muggle t-shirt tucked into skinny jeans that were cuffed just above his ankles. And the three earrings in the cartilage at the top of his right ear.

It was that he looked nothing like the stiff, tidy, pretentious twat that Harry would have envisioned him growing into and it made Harry wonder what else he was wrong about.

Malfoy caught sight of him a few second later and literally froze in place.

"What can I get you?" Harry asked, giving him a little smile.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, cocking his head uncertainly, "You look like someone I used to know."

(Read more below the cut)

And that was fair, too, Harry supposed. He didn't look anything like the scrawny, desperate teen he'd been the last time Malfoy saw him, either. Harry had grown a good six inches since then, his shoulders had filled out, he'd grown his hair long because the curls were less messy that way, he'd grown a beard that he kept short and tidy, and he had a few tattoos of his own. "You look like someone I used to know, too," he replied, "But you can't possibly be the same person that I thought I knew and I'm sure that I'm not quite what you thought either." He tilted his head at Malfoy, "What can I get you?" he repeated.

"What would you recommend?" Malfoy asked as he slid into a bar stool with a touch more caution than Harry liked.

"Do you like sweet drinks?" he asked, "I have this cotton candy drink that we make with cranberry juice and raspberry vodka," then he added, "And cotton candy, obviously."

"That would definitely be something I've never tried before," Malfoy replied with a little smile.

"Done." While Harry was making the drink he said, "So what brings you so far from home?"

Malfoy cocked his head, "I left home ages ago," he said. "Disowned, as a matter of fact."

Harry frowned as he reached under the bar to fetch the cotton candy, "What? Why?"

Harry saw him lift one shoulder casually before having to stick his head into the cupboard below to reach the bag of cotton candy in the back, "Apparently, Malfoys are allowed to make all sorts of mistakes and commit all sorts of atrocities, but being gay was just one step too far for them."

Harry bashed the back of his head against the bar in his haste to stand up, "Wait, you're-?" he started before registering just how badly that had hurt, "Ouch, fuck," he said, rubbing the back of his skull.

"Here," Malfoy murmured, holding out his hand, "Let me."

Harry leaned over and Malfoy gently cupped the back of his head and murmured something under his breath. A moment later a warm, tingly feeling suffused Harry's head and all of the pain disappeared.

"Wow," Harry said, rubbing the back of his skull again and feeling for any tender spots, "That was amazing."

Malfoy shrugged and Harry went back to working on the drink. "I was training to be a healer," he confessed softly so no one would overhear, "But then I had one too many people refuse to let me help them because of-" he broke off and shook his head, "Well you know."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry said with a frown as he slid the drink across the bar. He was about to say more when Ben, one of his regulars, came up to the bar for a refill, "Hold that thought," he said, making his way over to get him another bourbon.

"This," Malfoy said, pointing to the drink Harry had made him when he returned a few minutes later, "Is actually quite tasty, Potter."

He laughed, "No need for the tone of surprise, this has been my job for nearly five years now. And you can call me, Harry," he added.

The corner of Draco's mouth tilted up, "Oh I can, can I?"

Harry nodded, "And I think I'll be calling you Draco."

"Bold of you," he said but he was smiling so Harry didn't take him too seriously.

"Gryffindor," he replied, pointing to himself with a wink. "So tell me about yourself, Draco," he said.

And to his surprise and utter delight, Draco did. He sat at the bar, sipping that martini before switching over to lemonade, all evening, telling Harry about his life and asking questions about Harry in turn.

One things led to another and by the time Harry was getting ready to leave, Harry was really not ready for the night to end.

"Can I walk you home?" Draco asked, apparently he wasn't ready for it to end either.

Harry smiled at him and nodded toward his house, they set off down the street talking about nothing. He only lived a few blocks away and they found themselves standing at the bottom of Harry's steps all too soon.

"Will you punch me if I kiss you?" Draco asked him.

Harry shook his head with a smile he couldn't quite hide, and leaned forward to meet Draco halfway. The moment their lips met, Harry's veins felt like they'd been set on fire. He reached out and clasped the fabric of Draco's t-shirt in his hands and pulled him forward, crashing their bodies together.

"Come inside," Harry begged against Draco's lips.

Draco pulled back, brow furrowed slightly, "You want this? With me?"

"Godric, yes," he groaned. "Please."

The other man gave him a breathless little smile and Harry dragged him up the stairs and straight to the bedroom.

Afterward, Harry got up to order them some pizza and when he returned, Draco was laid on his back on the bed, his pink hair fanned out across the pillow, Harry couldn't help but think that his body looked more gorgeous than any work of art he'd ever seen. And Harry sat up beside him admire him better, "I thought this one was your constellation," he murmured triumphantly, stroking his fingers over the dragon that curled over his collarbone and up his neck.

"Well spotted," Draco said, a smile in his voice.

He brushed his fingers over the snitch on Draco's chest, "I've got one of these, too," he murmured, leaning a bit so Draco can see the snitch he has on his own hip.

"Yes, I noticed," Draco replied, giving him a little smirk, "What does it say under it?"

"I open at the close," Harry said.

Draco hummed, "You'll have to tell me the story sometime."

"I'd like that," Harry told him, surprised to find that it was true since he'd never wanted to talk to anyone about the war. He trailed his fingers over the flower that had been tattooed over Draco's heart. "For your mum?" he asked.

He gave him a sad smile and nodded, "The black narcissus."

"These are for my parents," he told him, pointing to the antlers adorned with lilies along his collarbones.

"What are these ones?" he asked, trailing his fingers over the Marauder's map style footprints on his bicep and shoulder.

"These," he said, twisting to show Draco that they wrapped around his shoulder and onto his back, "are names of the people who have held me up, some of them still living, and others who live on in me." He grinned at him, "I'll show you the map they're modeled after the next time I have it out."

"Do you have any others?"

"Yeah," Harry said, collapsing onto his back so he could show Draco his ankle, "Deathly Hallows on my ankle."

Draco's fingers brushed lightly over his skin and Harry's spine tingled pleasantly.

"Do you have others?" he echoed

He nodded and rolled over onto his stomach and Harry had to hold back a gasp, "Beautiful," he whispered, trailing his fingers lightly over the wings covering Draco's shoulder blades.

"They're to remind me that I am free. I made my choice to fly instead of staying shackled."

"They're beautiful," Harry repeated.

Draco reached back and pointed to his neck and Harry's eyes followed to a compass. "To remind me that I choose the direction of my life from here on out."

"I love that," Harry replied, flopping back down on the bed next to Draco. "I'm planning my next one."

"Oh?" Draco asked, turning his head to the side and resting it on his forearms so he could look at Harry.

Harry nodded, "A constellation as well, Sirius, and wolfsbane incorporated somehow."

"Are all of yours for people, then?"

"Yeah," he replied, about to say more when the doorbell rang. "That'll be the pizza. Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?" he asked as he stood up and started looking for a pair of pants to put on to answer the door

"I should go-"

"Draco," he said, leaning in and stealing another kiss, "Stay. Please."

"For how long?" Draco asked.

The doorbell rang again and Harry stumbled into his boxers, "For as long as you want. Stay forever if you like."

And he was surprised to find that he was only half joking.

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Please go look at this GORGEOUS art by @pato-roldnart. I'm completely in awe of how talented they are. It's just like I imagined it and I am totally in love!

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Day 51: Parents | Day 53: First Anniversary

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry drabble #drarry ficlet #tattoos #I am weak for tattoos #and piercings #Day 52 #enjoy!#getting together

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vukovich · 3 years

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Hey hey Vuk!! Congrats on the followers! You deserve every one of them!

You requested bizarre prompts and oh I have a bizarre prompt for you... 😈 Drarry, if you please, any genre/vibe that feels right for you in the moment, BUT inspired by Robert Pattinson's disastrous attempt at making solid microwave spaghetti last spring (just Google it if you don't know what I'm talking about and enjoyyyy lol). Have fun and stay weird 💚

Note: OH. MY. GOD. Google it if you guys haven’t. Random Wordcount Generator: 493

“Potter.” Robards looms between Harry’s cubicle walls. “Got a report of a contained fire at your place. Again.”

“Goddammit,” Harry mutters.

Ginger hair bobs along the top of a partition. “Watch your fuckin’ language, Harry! You’re at work, ya cunt!”

Robards turns, and Harry hears a whoomp, slap of papers, and a grumble. “Weasley’s got the file.”

“Sure do,” Ron takes Robards’ place, fighting a shit-eating grin. “So, lunch at yours, then?”

----

Twelve Grimmauld Place isn’t on fire, but it’s a bit crisp around the edges. Harry and Ron approach from the front gate, and all the windows are open, sheer curtains billowing out toward the street. The breeze wafting from the house reeks of burnt hair and greasy smoldering oven residue.

Something solid slams against the door as Harry opens it, forcing it back shut.

Wild grey eyes peer through the small window in the door. “You can’t come in! You’ll ruin the surprise!”

“Is the surprise a fucking dragon?!” Harry shouts back.

“It’s a birthday surprise!”

Ron steps up and knocks politely. “Let us in, Malfoy.”

“No!”

Ron’s fingernails become immensely interesting as he thinks. “You left your gmail logged in on Hermione’s laptop.”

“No…” Draco’s eyes are quivering saucers.

“Yup.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I haven’t. Yet.”

“Goddammit,” Draco hisses.

“That’s what I said,” Harry mutters.

----

Twelve Grimmauld Place isn’t on fire. Anymore. Scorched divots pockmark the floor in a scattershot pattern originating at the oven and spread across the entire front room. Crunchy black craters adorn all the upholstery, like blackhole leopard spots.

“Draco…” Harry drawls, surveying the damage. The fucking ceiling is black. “You can just buy me a new tie.”

“Mate, if I gotta hear about your bedroom proclivities while you’re sober, I’m done.” Ron wipes up a glob of black sludge off the kitchen table and pops it in his mouth like he wants to fucking die.

“Necktie,” Harry grumbles, watching Ron for signs of poisoning.

“Like I said.” Ron helps himself to another jiggling blob. “Second warning. Malfoy, what were you making?”

“Chocolate lava cake.” Draco backs himself into a corner, arse against the counter.

He looks like a book of used matches. Blackened hands and bare feet, singed mop of platinum hair, the rest of him white. Rather white, in fact, Harry realizes. White apron, clean pale skin…

“Draco, are you naked under the apron?” Harry bites back a smirk while Draco shrugs.

Ron circles around the table to peer at the half-dozen open books. “Malfoy. Buddy. Why do you have a recipe book written in Pompeian Runes?”

Another shrug. “Authenticity?”

Ron grunts in acknowledgment. “These aren’t recipes for cake, you twat. This one you scribbled ‘Cornflakes’ into is a bloody detonation potion.”

Draco’s feet become immensely interesting as he avoids Ron’s scrutiny.

“And this one you’ve written… ‘instant coffee’ and ‘splash of bourbon’ on is for goddamn liquid Fiendfyre.”

“Draco, what the fuck!?” Harry barks. “You could have leveled the whole neighborhood!”

“Surprise?”

#drarry #peculiar prompts

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years

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Like a Moth to a Flame Pt. 3

Back at it again and this chapter was fun! Next one we’ll be getting into some more juicy bits but I needed a setup for the scene. So enjoy my friendly little deviants!

Mild TW: mentions of blood, violence, attempted assault, and (very) minor character death

As always, I thank/blame @miscellaneous-bnha for the inspo

Part 1 Part 2

•••••

You feel numb walking down the darkened sidewalk towards home, shock and frustration making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other. It had been several weeks since you last saw Mirio, and there hadn’t been any reports of strange, paranormal activity in any other part of town. At least, not according to the papers. Even after the landlord had coughed up the money to replace the ruined fire escape, you’d yet to catch another glimpse of the golden mothman. Night after night you’d put out bowls of sugar water, stayed up late, even pulled a few strings of old Christmas lights out of storage to decorate your portion of the new railing. But come morning, you always found the bait untouched and it left you feeling drained and disappointed. You knew your nightly routine was starting to feel unhealthy, obsessive really, and that your performance at work had been gradually slipping as a result. But it wasn’t until today, when your boss called you in after your shift ended and handed you that soul-crushing pink slip, that you realized just how far it had fallen. And on top of all that, you’d missed the last bus home, forcing you to take a literal walk of shame back to your apartment.

“What am I gonna do?” You breathe into the crisp night air, unconsciously reaching into the pocket of your coat to fish out your phone. Without even looking at the screen, you unlock the device and open your camera roll, tapping on a folder marked “Moth” before finally looking down. There was only one picture on file, but you’d seen it so many times it was practically burned into your retinas. The image was grainy and blurred (not to mention overexposed beyond the point of recognition due to the flash), but you couldn’t give a damn about any of that. The only clear part of the image, the only part you cared about, was the pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you. For some unknown reason, the camera hadn’t distorted them, perfectly capturing their glassy, sapphire hue and wide-eyed expression of curiosity.

And you had spent countless hours poring over it.

In the beginning, you’d convinced yourself it was nothing more than a piece of evidence, proof of your sanity and a confirmation of his existence. But as the days passed, you’d come to take comfort in it, more often than not allowing your mind to wander freely back to the memory of his voice in your ear and the warm weight of his head on your shoulder. You hadn’t even posted it to any of the online forums, jealously hoarding it the same way a dragon protects its treasure.

“Mirio.” You exhale softly, thumb absentmindedly brushing over the cracked surface of your phone screen. “I wish I could fly away from my problems like you. Must be nice having wings…”

“Hey there, baby!”

A gruff, slurring voice abruptly snaps you back to reality, head whipping up to see a trio of men leaning against a rundown building across the street. Their faces are indistinguishable, partially obscured by shadows thrown from a lone street lamp shining over their heads. But you can clearly make out the brown paper bags they have clutched in their fists, the material crumpled and molded into the tell-tale shape of liquor bottles as they continue to heckle you.

“Why dontcha come over here and hang out with us?” The biggest brute calls out, beckons you closer with a crook of his finger. “We’ll show ya a good time.”

“Yeah, a real good time.” The man to his left cackles. His lewd remark earns him a few snickers from his seedy friends while a wave of revulsion courses down your spine. Catcalling wasn’t exactly foreign to you; in this part of town, it was practically expected. But their drunken words and leering eyes make you acutely aware of just how empty the streets are right now, devoid of other people or passing cars to offer protection (or witnesses) should they decide to take things too far. Still, you straighten your spine and snap your eyes forward, long-since trained to know it’s best to ignore their booze-fueled jeers and keep walking.

“Awww, don’t be like that, baby!” You hear one of them call from your right, “We just wanna have some fun!”

You keep your gaze trained on the looming silhouette of your apartment complex, soles of your shoes clicking against the cold pavement as you grip the phone in your hand even more tightly. You’re close enough to see some of the lights are still on your neighbors windows, probably cleaning up from dinner or settling in for a smoke and a drink. With the promise of safety so close at hand, you cast a quick glance over your shoulder….

And feel your blood run cold as you see the men casually strolling across the empty street to fall in line behind you. They’re whispering amongst themselves as they take a few more swigs from their bottles, their shuffling gait and longer legs quickly closing the gap between you. You pick up your own pace in turn, walking much more briskly now and earning a reproachful growl from the men behind you.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” One of them snarls, “Didn’t your mama ever teach you it’s rude to ignore people?”

You don’t respond to his jab, too afraid to speak regardless, and set off at a jog, determined to put as much distance between yourself and these morons as possible. But that action proves itself to be a grave mistake, as you hear the footsteps behind you pick up in speed. Before you can fully register what’s happening, one of the men appears over your right shoulder, laughing maniacally as he gives you a rough shove and sends you careening off course and into an adjacent alleyway. The unexpected move knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground and knocking your head into the concrete with enough force to set your teeth rattling. Even worse, you lose your grip on your phone, hearing it skitter off into the darkness as the men crowd into the alley after you.

“I think she could use a lesson in manners! Ain’t that right, boys?” Their leader asks mockingly, seconds before he grabs you by the hair and roughly hauls you back onto your feet.

“Please!” You yelp, both from fear and the pain shooting throughout your scalp, “I-I have money. You can take whatever you want!”

“Whatever we want, huh?” He says with a sneer, his face close enough you can smell the sour aroma of cheap bourbon and old cigarettes on his breath.

“Then gimme a kiss, sweetheart.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, his free arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place as he tries to force his tongue past your sealed lips and down your throat. Your screams for help are muffled by the kiss, and it’s all you can do to push against his chest and thrash wildly in his hold. His companions stand faithfully behind him, egging him on with bouts of derisive laughter intermingled with hoots to “hurry up and get on with it” so they can have their turn. After a few moments he pulls away for air, arm leaving your waist and clapping the hand that was tangled in your hair over your mouth. Meanwhile, his buddies move to either side of you to grab you by the shoulders and force down on your knees.

“Since you didn’t feel like talkin’…” He growls dangerously, free hand toying with the buckle of his belt. “Let’s see if that pretty little mouth is good for somethin’ else.”

Your eyes widen as his belt comes undone with a soft clink, tears pricking at the corners as he leers down at you. Instinct takes over as he attempts to undo his fly, and before he can move his hand you jerk your head back to partially free your mouth. Then you bite down. Hard.

“Fuck!”

He hastily wrenches his hand from your mouth before you can do any more damage while you take in a desperate lungful of fresh air. A quick glance at his hand shows you’d successfully broken the skin, leaving a perfect, crescent-shaped indent that was quickly beading up with fresh blood.

“Help! Somebody help! Rape! RA-!”

You’re abruptly silenced by a quick blow to your right cheek, delivered by one of the men still holding you down. Throbbing pain radiates out from the point of impact, making your vision white out and earning a cruel laugh from your captors.

“You little bitch!” The injured man spits at you, “Think you’re so tough, huh?”

A small click forces your eyes to open, only to be met with a glint of metal in the light of the full moon: a switchblade.

“Let’s see how tough you are when I slice up that pretty face of yours. Starting with that fuckin’ mouth.”

With a twirl of the blade, he advances towards you, relishing in your helpless state as greedy eyes roam the plane of your terrified face. You’re too scared to scream anymore, eyes squeezing shut as you brace yourself for the first cut. But instead of searing pain, there’s an odd rustling noise, followed by a colossal thump that seems to shake the very earth beneath you. The men holding your shoulders abruptly release you, backing away amidst a slew of bewildered curses. Slowly, you crack one eye open to find a new, dark figure standing in front of you, blotting out the moon itself and effectively shielding you from your would-be rapist.

“M-Mirio?” You gasp, voice wavering from disbelief and shock. The golden cryptid looks over his shoulder at you, only giving a chittering cry at the sound of your voice.

“What the fuck!?” The man behind him screeches, “The fuck is that thing?!”

Mirio’s head snaps around to face the terrified thug, wings slowly raising in a show of strength and dominance as he lets out a low, menacing growl.

“Y/N…” He snarls, taking a short step forward and shifting into a crouch. “Mine.”

“S-stay back!” The man stammers, jabbing the switchblade into the empty air in front of him like a puny saber. “I’m warning you!”

Mirio gives a low hiss in response, wings fully extended as he lowers himself to place one hand on the ground. You’re frozen on the spot, hardly daring to breathe as you sense the slightest movement could set him off. For a moment, everything is still. And then, spurred on by loyalty, liquid courage or a combination of the two, the other thugs charge Mirio from behind. Moving faster than you could comprehend, Mirio whips around with a high-pitched shriek, landing a powerful swipe to the center of one man’s chest and sending him crashing to the pavement beside you. The other one was luckier, successfully jumping onto the monster’s back and causing Mirio to rear up on his back legs once more. The attacker then attempts to wrap his arms around Mirio’s neck, perhaps hoping to cut off his air supply or at least distract him long enough for the third man to join the fray.

But Mirio was obviously stronger and smarter than he was expecting.

Clawed hands scratch at the attacker’s face and shoulders before the winged behemoth suddenly flops onto his back, bringing his full weight down on the foolhardy attacker with a sickening crunch. Rolling back onto all fours, the man is left gasping for air on the ground, possibly with a punctured lung or (at the very least) a few broken ribs. Undeterred by his pitiful cries for mercy, Mirio looses an unearthly roar before grabbing the man by the front of his sweat-soaked shirt, rising to his full height, and tossing him towards the empty street like he weighed no more than a ragdoll.

“MINE!” He bellows, “MIIIIIIINE!”

“Fuck you!” The remaining man screams in return, rushing towards the towering beast with his switchblade held aloft. “Die, you fuckin’ freak!”

Mirio shifts back into a fighting stance, his back to you as he lets out another spine-chilling howl and rushes forward to greet the oncoming attack. At the same time, the moon moves behind a cloud, throwing the alleyway into inky darkness as you shriek and cover your head with your hands. With your eyes screwed shut, all you can hear is the man’s incensed grunts and yells, overshadowed by Mirio’s own enraged roars and the scratch of his nails on the dirty concrete. After a few seconds of struggle, Mirio gives a piercing cry, followed by the wet sound of tearing flesh and a strangled, gurgling noise. The fight ends as suddenly as it started, the only sounds now coming from your own terrified whimpers and the clatter of the switchblade falling to the ground.

Peeking out from between your fingers, you find the sky has started to lighten once more, the moon reappearing from behind the clouds and washing the bizarre scene in an unsettling, ethereal hue. The scrawniest attacker is still sprawled out next to you, unconscious but mercifully alive given the force of his impact. Mirio stands facing towards you, breathing heavily as the wings on his back shiver and shake. And at his feet, eyes wide and lifeless, is the leader’s body, his face covered in deep claw marks and a puddle of blood seeping out from underneath him like an oil slick.

“You… you killed him.” You breathe, “Mirio, h-he’s dead.”

Mirio doesn’t make any move to acknowledge your words, simply sinking to his knees with a rumbling groan. He seems almost sad, remorseful even, with the way he hangs his head and curls his bloodied hands into fists atop his knees. In this new light, you also notice something on the mothman’s left forearm: a clean, shallow gash. That must have been the cause for his shrieking earlier.

Slowly you stand once more, swallowing the lump in your throat to take a few tentative steps toward the creature.

“Are you… hurt?” You ask softly, noting the way he jolts and then shrinks away from you. You’re only a few feet away now, close enough to make out the faint stripes and eye-spot pattern on his wings. You nervously crouch down, balancing on the balls of your feet but keeping a safe distance should he turn aggressive. A chilly breeze blows through the alley, pushing against your back and making the creature raise his head up slightly, sniffing the air. His gaze locks on your face, glassy eyes wide as he slowly puts his palms on the ground and gets back on all fours. He moves one clawed hand closer to you and you start for a second, taking a quick step back before catching sight of the streaks of blood dripping from his forearm once more.

“Hurt?” You say again, pointing a shaky finger at the wound. His eyes follow to where you’re pointing and he lets out a chittering mewl, lifting up his injured arm. His long, slithering tongue snakes out from his mouth and he begins to lap at the blood, wincing at the taste. You’re unsure if this is real or an act. On the one hand, it’s hard to believe a creature so obviously powerful as him would be so concerned over little more than a scratch. Then again, you feel certain Mirio is too much of a gentle soul at heart to fake the whole “kicked-puppy” routine.

“No. Don’t do that.” You chide gently, tone forcing the monster to stop licking at himself and look up at you. Moving slowly so as to not startle him, you reach into the pocket of your coat and fish around until your fingers close around a crumpled, but thankfully unused, piece of tissue. When you pull it out of your pocket, Mirio’s eyes narrow into slits and he bares his teeth to let out a small, warning hiss.

“Easy, boy.” You say soothingly, “It can’t hurt you. See?”

You extend your free hand and pat the tissue against your own palm, demonstrating it’s benign nature. Mirio’s face gradually relaxes as he watches your display, eventually crawling over the corpse on the ground to get closer to you. You’re now practically nose-to-nose with the mothman, dropping your empty hand by your side and using the tissue to gesture at the cut on his arm.

“Let me help.”

Mirio gives a short blink before shifting into a squatting position similar to your own, carefully extending his injured arm towards you. Doing your best to not cause him any pain, you carefully start to dab at the areas around the cut, mopping up the spilled blood as the monster watches you work.

“Y/N.” He says softly, his voice causing you to look up from your task. Mirio raises his other hand to touch the right-hand side of your face, sending a bolt of prickly pain shooting through your skull and making you wince. You’d been so caught up in the chaos and adrenaline-fueled high that you’d forgotten about your own injuries. No doubt you’ve got a sizable bruise forming from where that thug had punched you earlier. Mirio’s stiffens up at the your response, brow furrowing in concern as he quickly pulls his hand away.

“H-hurt?”

“A little…” You mumble in response, “But I’ll be alright.”

He stills for a moment and you offer him a small, pained smile, hoping to reassure him. And the next thing you know he’s moving, clutching you to his chest in a protective embrace and nuzzling his face into your neck. You squeak a little at the unexpected move, body going rigid in fear of being attacked. But soon his sweet scent and warmth fully envelop your senses, causing you to relax in his hold.

“Hurt.” He whimpers in your ear, “Y/N hurt. My fault.”

You can feel your heart clench at his words. He sounds so guilty. Helpless even. Like a child crying to their mother for comfort. Before you can think better of it, you wrap your arms around him in return, worming your hands underneath his wings to rest on his well-defined shoulder blades.

“Oh, Mirio no! It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything to hurt me.”

His body begins to shake, his breathing turning into ragged gasps as he squeezes you even more tightly. One hand leaves your back to cradle your head, the sheer size of his fingers tangling in your hair making you feel like doll-like. The two of you stay locked together like this for a few minutes, holding onto each other in the moonlight as Mirio continues to tremble beneath your touch.

“Mirio. I-” You softly breathe, causing him to raise his golden head and look you in the eye. You have so many questions for him, so many things you like to say. But all that comes out is a quiet, “Thank you.”

He cocks his handsome head to one side before a smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth, pearly teeth reappearing as he gives a short nod of understanding.

“Mirio… keep Y/N safe.”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” You say with a weak chuckle, reaching up one hand to brush an errant strand of blonde hair away from his face. “I’m safe now.”

Mirio coos as he presses his cheek into your palm, the same way he’d done outside your apartment complex all those weeks ago. His eyes close contentedly and you can’t help but smile at his blissful expression.

“Y/N. Mine.” He purrs.

You freeze at the bold statement, pulling your hand away and earning a disappointed mewl from Mirio.

“You said that before. Mirio, what do you mean–?”

“You there! Freeze!”

A familiar voice cuts off your question nanoseconds before a powerful flashlight is aimed directly at Mirio’s back. Even though you can’t see around his massive frame, you can tell it’s the same officer who caught you the last time Mirio visited you.

Only now, the cornered cryptid hadn’t had the chance to fly away.

“Hands where I can see them!” The officer demands, flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other. Mirio makes no such move. Instead, he rises to his feet, hooking one arm under your thighs and taking you up with him.

“Wait! Mirio, don’t!” You shriek, desperately grabbing at his chest and mane as he turns to face the officer. It’s a terrifying sight for the poor man: three bodies strewn across a bloody alley, a blue-eyed beast, and a helpless civilian seemingly taken captive.

“D-drop the hostage!” He stammers out. “Do it, or I’ll shoot!”

You can tell from the way the light wavers that he’s shaking and you suspect the only reason he hasn’t fired his weapon yet is because he doesn’t want to risk hitting you. Your eyes flit wildly between his and Mirio’s face, finding his fangs are bared as he lets out a warning hiss.

“Y/N.” Mirio snarls, wings slowly unfurling behind him as he bends his knees and tightens his grip on you. “Mine!”

With that final declaration, Mirio gives his wings a powerful flap and kicks off from the ground. You scream as you take flight, tiny fingers digging into the solid muscle of Mirio’s chest and neck for safety. Between the sound of rushing wind and your own heartbeat jackhammering in your ears, you can barely make out the officer’s voice telling him to stop, followed by a rogue gunshot. And then there’s nothing. Nothing save for the wind in your hair and Mirio’s howl of victory as he carries you ever higher into the starry night sky.

“Stop!” You shriek, cold air stinging your battered face and forcing your eyes closed. “Put me down! Mirio, let go!”

Mirio doesn’t respond to your demands, either unable or unwilling to hear you as he sets off over the rooftops. After a few minutes of careful flying, he abruptly changes course, veering off westward and heading for the woods that ring the city limits.

“Keep Y/N safe.” Mirio says resolvedly, his voice rumbling through his chest and directly in your ear.

“Y/N… mine.”

•••••

Tags: @middevil465 @delightfully-anonymous

#bnha mothman au #mothrio #mothmanmirio #mha x reader #togata mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: attempted assault #mha #bnha

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acetechne · 3 years

Photo

The Mall (tm) turned 40 today so it felt wrong not to acknowledge it :’ )

Of course most of the things that I think of when I think of WEM are in Phase IV and not in Phase I but...

I talk about how much The Mall drives me nuts and truly I DO resent it when it comes up in conversation as the Only Thing We Are Known For, but I do have a weird tangential enjoyment of The Mall... I have this strong nostalgia I can’t explain. I mourn the current trendy commercialization of what should be a monument to the eclecticism, gaudiness and poor taste of the 80s-90s (although I don’t miss the creepy clowns on bourbon street)

tell me your favourite mall memories (mine are probably Playdium, the jumping fountains and the Silver City dragon - my favourite store as a young weeb was Milennium)

#projectcanada cities #pc: edmonton #digital art #clip studio paint #edward murphy #i made cosmo tiny so he doesnt give me nightmares #also augustus is vaporwave isnt he #go check out the yt channel best edmonton mall now #and yes i once rode a submarine before their demise

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necroheir · 3 years

Text

“Trust me, have a couple drinks, and I promise you’ll have the best time. It’s part of the Vermont experience,” Jordan said. The two were in a seedy bar in his hometown of Burlington, Vermont, and he quite prided himself in the fact he’d managed to drag Kite out of the comforts of camp at all. Especially after slaying a dragon (and nearly losing their lives in the process), they needed a healthy dose of normalcy. So the two sat at the bar, no stool in between because they were totally gay, and Jordan ordered himself an old-fashioned, and a bourbon peach smash for Kite. The bar was quiet, playing some old jazz in the background. “See that over there?” he held the rim of his glass, and pointed out the storefront to the antique store called ‘The Brick Basement’ on the other side of the street. “That’s our next stop.” He was positive letting Kite loose in there would be like releasing a kid in a candy store.

@kiteshields

#kiteshields

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cardest · 3 years

Text

Sydney playlist

And the winner is Si-da-nee! Sydney, Newcastle, Canberra, NSW...ah! The music from this part of the world is so good it is to be believed. I shared Melbourne yesterday and today (on Australia Day) I just had to go with one more. I know this Sydney playlist can reach 200 songs. It’s up to you! Let me know what bands or songs I missed. The songs branch out to Newcastle, Byron Bay, Broken Hill and down to Canberra and the Snowy Mountains.

SYDNEY

001 Icehouse - Harbour Town 002 Hard-Ons & Henry Rollins - let there be rock 003 Paul Kelly and the Messengers - Sydney From A 727 004 Cruel Sea - 4 005 Toe To Toe - Race Against Time 006 GANGgajang - Sounds Of Then (This Is Australia) 007 Celibate Rifles - Wild Desire 008 Johnny Cash - Fast Boat to Sydney 009 The Kinks - Australia 010 Rose Tattoo - Out of This Place 011 BB and the Blips - Lucky Country 012 Cold Chisel - Painted Doll 013 Mass Appeal - Inward Span 014 Mortal Sin - Women In Leather 015 HIEROPHANTS - Nervous Tic 016 Dragon - Blacktown Boogie 017 Mental as Anything - Blacktown To Bondi 018 The Scientists - Hey Sydney 019 Pat Wilson - Bop Girl 020 The Mexican Spitfires - Sydney Town 021 Arrowhead - Coven of the Snake 022 Models - Two Cabs To The Toucan 023 Box The Jesuit - Sleazo Peepshow 024 AC/DC - Live Wire 025 Redgum - Parramatta Gaol 1843 026 Frenzal Rhomb - My City Of Sydney 027 Parramatta Hot Rod Man - The Satelite V 028 Radio Birdman - Murder City Nights 029 Bane of Isildur - Gates of Valhalla 030 Clouds - Bower Of Bliss 031 Lime Spiders - my favorite room 032 The Beasts of Bourbon - I’m So Happy I Could Cry 033 You Am I - High Chair 034 Louis Tillet - Carousel 035 Nic Dalton and his Gloomchasers - Okay Sydney You Beat me 036 The Saints - One Way Street 037 The Whitlams - You Gotta Love this City 038 The Executives - Summer Hill Road 039 Ratcat - That Ain't Bad 040 Hoodoo Gurus - Leilani 041 Straight Arrows - 21st Century 042 Falling Joys - Parachute 043 Toys Went Berserk - Wheels In Motion 044 The Hummingbirds - If A Vow 045 The Angels - Wasted Sleepless Nights Dark Room 046 Died Pretty - Stone age Cinderella 047 Sadistik Exekution - Mental Derailment 048 Newtown Jets team song 049 Do Re Mi - Man Overboard 050 INXS - The Loved One 051 John Kennedy - Ghost of Newtown 052 Nazxul - Vow of Vengeance 053 The Go-Betweens - Streets of your town 054 SPY V SPY - ONE OF A KIND 055 Tumbleweed - Gyroscope 056 Kylie Minogue - Wouldnt Change A Thing 057 Mental As Anything - Live It Up 058 Divinyls - Good Die Young 059 Grungeon - Infernal Shelter 060 Hard-Ons - School Days 061 The Radiators - No Tragedy 062 The New Christs - Born Out Of Time 063 The Sunnyboys - Alone With You 064 The Triffids - A Trick Of The Light 065 The Takeaways - Sweet & Sour 066 COG - Bondi 067 Cold Chisel - Tomorrow 068 Icehouse - Electric Blue 069 Midnight Oil - Bring On The Change 070 Celibate Rifles - Darlinghurst Confidential 071 Radio Birdman - Do The Pop 072 You Am I - Coprolalia 073 Cruciform - Sanctuary 074 Electric Pandas - Big Girls 075 The Saints - Just like fire would 076 Perry Keyes - The Day John Sattler Broke His Jaw Douly Stewart 077 The Bushwackers Band - Shores Of Botany Bay (double Douly Stewart action!!) 078 The Holy Soul - Family Magician 079 Mi Sex - Only Thinking 080 Beasts of Bourbon - Chase the dragon 081 Paul Kelly and His Messengers - Incident On South Dowling 082 Models - Out of Mind Out of Sight 083 Clouds - Alchemy’s Dead 084 The Go-Betweens - Lavender 085 Def FX - Surfers of the Mind 086 Skyhooks - Somewhere in Sydney 087 The Bamboos - Kings Cross 088 The Whitlams - Year Of The Rat 089 MINDSNARE - BURNING BLACK 090 David Bowie - Let's Dance ( Sean Steward ) 091 V Spy V Spy - Harrys Reasons 092 Hoodoo Gurus - Whats My Scene 093 Midnight Oil - Who Can Stand in the Way 094 Hard-Ons - Girl In The Sweater 095 Goanna - Solid Rock 096 THY ART IS MURDER - Human Target 097 White Dog - Sydney Limits 098 Tumbleweed - Hang Around ( Aje Morris ) 099 Mental As Anything - The Nips Are Getting Bigger 100 Icehouse - Great Southern Land 101 Divinyls - Only Lonely 102 Deborah Conway - Its Only The Beginning 103 Bastardizer - Up The Ante 104 Mi Sex - Computer Games 105 Sunnyboys - You Need A Friend 106 AC/DC - Heatseeker 107 Mortality - D. Form 108 INXS - Don’t Change 109 Naiad - Confidence 110 Crow - Railhead 111 Mass Burial - Etemmu 112 New Groove - Rockmelons 113 The Alarm - New South Wales 114 Potion - Women of the Wand 115 Backyard Mortuary - Lure of the Occult 116 Girl Overboard - The Love We Make 117 Radio Freedom - I Can Feel It 118 Tex Perkins & Don Walker - Harry Was A Bad Bugger 119 Dragon - This Time 120 Slaughter Lord - Destructor 121 Alchemist - Dancing To Life 122 Happy Hate Me Nots - Salt Sour & Brighton 123 Downtime - Downtime 124 50 lions - To the test 125 Town Pants - New South Wales 126 INSURGE - Political Prisoners 127 GANGgajang - Gimme Some Loving 128 The Maviss - Thunder 129 MAD MAX 2 SOUNDTRACK - The Montage Main Title from the Road 130 Cruel Sea - This Is Not The Way Home 131 Mortal Sin - I Am Immortal 132 Mad Max /Furry Road OST - Doof warrior 133 WHISKY SMILE - Old Mate Ernie Dingo’s Got My Baby 134 Falling Joys - Jennifer 135 Noiseworks - Burning Feeling 136 The Celibate Rifles - Tick Tock 137 Lime Spiders - scene of the crime 138 Died Pretty - out of the unknown 139 The Crystal Set - a drop in the ocean 140 Kings Of The Sun - DROP THE GUN 141 Frozen Doberman - Dying Phase 142 Laura Imbruglia - Looking For a Rabbit 143 Scarymother - Lord of the Flies 144 Captain Cleanoff - Wizards Sleeve 145 Wa Wa Nee - Stimulation 146 Gods of Eden - From the End of Heaven 147 Rabbit - Too Much Rock N Roll 148 Balescream - Amnesia 149 Aeturnus Dominion - Aeturnus Dominion 150 The Screaming Jets - October Grey 151 Bob Hudson - The Newcastle song 152 The Poor Boys - Hey Man 153 Ilium - Orbiting a Sun of Sadness 154 The Seer - The Fall 155 Arse/Piss - Churdburglar 156 Alchemist - Austral Spectrum 157 Redgum - Yarralumba Wine 158 Henrys Anger - Personality Test 159 Sidewinder - Titanic Days 160 Armoured Angel - Enigmatize 161 Midnight Oil - Kosciusko 162 The Church - reptile 163 Cog - Charades 164 Kim Salmon & the Surrealists - Lightning scary 166 Addictive - Pity of Man 167 Ilimitable Dolor - Soil She Bears 168 AC/DC - The Jack 169 The Angels - We Gotta Get Out of This Place 170 Celibate Rifles - O Salvation 171 Happy Hate Me Nots - Things wearing thin 172 Jack Forest - Every hour god sends 173 Mi Sex - But you don't care 174 Laura Imbruglia - looking for a rabbit 175 Hummingbirds - Blush 176 INXS - Kiss The Dirt (Falling Down The Mountain) 177 Yes I'm Leaving - Slow release 178 Rose Tattoo - Rock n roll outlaw 179 Asteroid B12 - True romance 180 Midnight Oil - bus to Bondi 181 Feedtime - Motorbike girl 182 The Bhagavad Guitars - I wanna know why 183 The Scientists - Blood Red River 184 The Crystal Set - cluster 185 Beasts of Bourbon - Chase the dragon 222 Deniz Tek - Run out of water 333 AC/DC - Jailbreak 666 TINA TURNER - We Don’t Need Another Hero (ThunderDome)

We are so close to 200 songs! Jump in and let’s fill the gaps together. PS: I don’t use Spotify because they don’t even half half these songs on their system.

#sydney #sydney playlist #bands from sydney #sydney songs #newcastle playlist #mortal sin #ac dc #spy vs spy #mental as anything #sadistik exekution #beasts of bourbon #sunnyboys #armoured angel

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skepticaloccultist · 4 years

Text

The Society with No Name

I had taken the train in from our temporary accommodation in the English countryside to deal with a few pressing matters back in London. Our house in Hackney has been packed, and while most of it will go to storage some is on its way to Portugal. We have taken offices there, and are preparing to sign the papers for our new home in Portugal in the coming days.

There are many things I will miss about London, though these days of plague mean that I miss them already. The bookshops and private libraries, the lectures and occasional events that bring me out into the night. But this country has become a shambles, and more sensible accommodation is in our future.

Among those things that I will think of even in the brightest of Portuguese sunshine is a place that I have come to consider a second home in London. One of the few reclusive lairs in central London that affords one such as myself a bit of respite, and a proper coffee, or whiskey as the case may be.

Located down a street too narrow for any but foot traffic, two right turns from Leicester Square station, is a rather peculiar building that seems to have grown like a weed among the more traditional structures around it.

Painted these days where there is wood on its two facades in a dark blue, the building is narrow at its base, a corner slot some 20 feet on either of its two street facing sides. Stretching some five or so stories tall it is impossibly angled outward over the sidewalk as it rises. Not in any modernist architectural style, just in a centuries long battle with gravity.

The door is nondescript, black painted wood under a stone mantel that bears the number "13", though the vagaries of London's postal code system mean that it hasn't had that number as a street address since shortly after Queen Victoria expired.

If one were to knock at the door, no one would answer. To enter, one needs to have a key.

+++

I became a member or "key holder" of the society sometime during the summer of 2009. It had long been on the fringes of my social group, small though it has always been. Though it was only through a chance meeting of a standing member that I was invited to join.

As many will know I have spent my life politely declining membership in a range of secret societies, handshake clubs, and masonic fraternities dressed up in various historic ethnographic fashions. I have never been much on membership in anything, initiatory or otherwise. I am not a very social fellow when it comes down to it.

It was the complete lack of any "club" like structure that the society presented that drew my attention. Members are not encouraged to interact, no events public or otherwise are planned. One simply pays annual dues and receives a key that grants them access to the building, including a small lobby bar staffed 24 hours a day, a number of rooms of various sizes furnished with arrangements of chairs and tables with doors that can be closed, and access to one of the largest private esoteric libraries in the world, taking up an entire floor of the building.

Not only is one not compelled by the society to interact with other members, but if you have not been introduced it is considered impolite to attempt conversation. Ideal for the recluse who seeks a perfect Turkish espresso at 1am, with the least amount of social interaction possible.

When one has entered through the front of the building the hall is modestly lit, a short entry that has a coat room to one side and opens into a sort of lobby, with a cafe style bar set into the rear of a small room, a few chairs and a table or two along one wall and three booths along another.

The bartender on duty never comes from behind the bar to serve, and it is expected that each member bus their own tables before they leave. A hallmark of the society is courteousness.

Opposite the entry way across the tiny lobby is the staircase, which goes upward around a tattery old iron lift. The stairs creak as you climb them, but the hand railing is fixed solid. Not something that can be said for the lift.

I have ridden the lift on several occasions, each time being reminded why no one ever rides in the lift. The noise alone is enough to think a banshee was the operator.

One climbs the slender stairs, pausing on the occasional landing to peer out of the crooked windows onto the street below. No one ever seems to be on the streets when you look out of the windows, regardless of how crowded the streets were just moments ago when you were approaching the building.

On each floor the stairs open to a landing that leads into various rooms. Some more private than others. The rooms are decorated minimally, with shelves of books and curiosities left over the years by members.

On the third floor is the library.

+++

The origins of the society seem to have come out of a select group within the British supper club the "Ye Sette of Odd Volumes." Members of that organization seem to have acquired the building in the early 1900s and from there the society evolved.

It is unknown to current members who actually owns the building, or if the society holds it in some obscure trust. Though a general trust fund was setup in the 1950s and covers staff pay and building upkeep, the annual dues each member pays seem to come to about the required budget each year.

The building was built sometime in the 18th century, though from its ill fitting the upper few stories must have been a later addition. Typical of the period the rooms are mostly wood trimmed plaster walls. Each of the member rooms is painted in a particular colour scheme, though these seem to change as years go by.

As was typical of societies of the early 20th century membership is coed, with women being key holders from the beginning. The only restriction to membership is that members must live within commuting distance of London. Those members that leave the region must relinquish their key. It is intended as a place of solitude for those who need it in their dealings with the city, a place to coordinate and consult with the volumes in the library.

It is said among older members that the building was a well known opium den in the late 19th century, frequented by literary types and dragon chasing aristocrats. The layout of the rooms certainly lends itself to the idea of opium beds and servitors, with the rooms' high ceilings perfectly suited to smoke filled chambers.

The rooms on the top two floors of the building are more open, like small ballrooms. Though furnished with a few chairs they are easily emptied out for purposes privy to only the society members behind closed doors. These rooms, unlike those on the lower floors, have windows that can be opened. It is considered polite to book a room ahead on the calendar if one plans to need it for more than a day, though exceptions are often made.

+++

Unlike the other floors, which are divided into smaller rooms, the landing of the third floor has only a single door, made of glass and requiring a key to open, the same as the buildings front door. This is the entrance to the society's library, a densely packed but well organized room full of books, maps, papers and other ephemera.

The society's library grew out of the private libraries and individual donations of previous members of the society, usually upon their death. It takes up the entire third floor, with fiction and other non essential volumes found across the shelves of many of the members rooms on other floors.

The first member whose private collection was to form the core of the original library, who willed a portion of their collection to the society upon their death, was William Sharp, former Golden Dawn member and founder of the Celtic Society. After his collection was sorted other members began to add works, then as members passed on it became a custom for their private libraries to be donated to the society.

By the end of the second World War a librarian had been employed as part of the staff trust. Initially just a job of sorting and keeping records it has evolved into a more curatorial role as the members who donate their collections often have a great overlap in their private libraries' holdings and there is only so much space on the third floor.

Works from the library can not be removed from the building. Anyone attempting to do so is banned without recourse. They may be taken to the members rooms but must be signed out at the time, though signing out is on an honors system of a paper list on a clipboard near the library door. In the history of the society a book has never gone missing.

The holdings of the library are much of what you would expect, rare volumes, original manuscripts. The society holds the personal papers and effects of several of its former members. Possibly my favorite object in the library, though in no way occult, is a stack of love letters written between botanist and writer Edith Wheelwright and Beatrix Potter in the late 1920s. An eloquent longing preserved in a private way that will never be seen by public eyes. The two women's handwriting alone makes one ache with decadence.

+++

The gentleman who primarily works behind the bar is an eloquent older Italian who speaks a dozen languages in passing and can read one's tarot on a rainy day. He makes a distinguished espresso as well.

I have long attempted to get him to stock some pastries at the bar but he refuses, serving only liquids hot and cold. On days where I am holed up in one of the rooms I often pop around the corner to an unremarkable ramen noodle shop. A tiny place decorated in a trendy colourful style but a passing bowl of noodles if one knows how to order.

I was able, sometime after a year or so of being a key holder, to insist that the bar stock my preferred bourbon. Though I had to personally supply the first few bottles kept behind the counter they eventually began to replenish themselves.

I do run into friends who are also members occasionally on the stairs, though more often I am in the building to meet them directly during daylight hours. The hours I generally keep tend to be late, and while there are others who frequent the society at similarly nocturnal intervals, like myself, they keep to themselves and their business.

It will be a shame to have to hand in my key in the coming month, I will be unable to spend as much time as I would have liked here in this comfortable late 19th century chair, whose time for a reupholstering was ages since, and to look out of the window on the landing outside of the library, where no one ever passes by below regardless of the time of day, and the park across the way from the building seems to go unnoticed to anyone but the squirrels.

Perhaps London will lure me back one day, after the plague and the war have passed? Previous members in good standing are always welcome to return if they find themselves living full time in London again. In the meantime I drink a final espresso or two from Silvio, taking the bourbon with me, and spend some time in the library saying my goodbyes.

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akimmito · 4 years

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Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 14

Silent Hill: Something happened, I'll take someone over for Marie to judge

Needle: Ah, what was missing

It’s a Nara: Don't sleep, there is an Akuma

It’s a Nara: Who is Available?

Almost Pretty: This Akuma itself is causing disaster

Needle: There goes the national library

It's a Nara: Who is Available?

Perfect Crime: We are at the airport, we can escape to the bathroom. Just tell us, Kanté

It’s a Nara: Perfect

Aithusa: I'm ready, Max.

Wild goat: I'll go! I'm available

Olive: You have communications, don't be ridiculous

Almost Pretty: I can't escape the Bourbon Palace for this, we are being evacuated to the basement

------

Ateliade, Jade Shield, LadyNoir and Rakkīgāru are on the ruins of the national library, the last place that al Akuma ruthlessly destroyed. Observing the damage and trying to understand how he did it, the cameras failed to capture the attack, they just watched as the building collapsed on its own. A troublesome situation.

"Rakkīgāru, use the Lucky Charm."

Kagami obeys immediately, the Lucky Charm delivers a candle similar to the ones she has placed in the meditation room. The four heroes look at the object with curiosity, its function is totally unknown to them, but somehow they understand that what they need at the moment is in the MT.

"We need a more thorough evaluation. Mures?"

"Yes, LadyNoir?"

"Come here, we will use the mouse to try to identify your abilities from all possible angles. "

"Ok."

"Maybe that's what the Lucky Charm was referring to." Ateliade offers her opinion on this, looking at the candle. After all, Marc is on the MT, but neither Kagami nor Marinette feel that is the case. Surely they will need the specific abilities of some Kwami that is not being used, their instincts are screaming at them.

Before long, Mures appears in all his nervous figure. It's the first time that he will go out into the field like the mouse, he's more used to his vigilante suit, but he's confident that everything will turn out well.

"Let's follow the Akuma."

At Jade Shield's words, the five heroes move to follow the Akuma's trail of destruction. When they see the purple Dolphin flying over The Turkish Consulate General and they are suddenly aware that they are now in District XVII where most Embassies and Consulates are. That could be a problem if it reaches international ears, endangering citizens of other countries. They can already hear Chloe yelling at them for speeding up, they don't want anyone from outside sticking their noses into something they don't understand.

"Multitude. "Marc activates its power and divides himself into five copies of himself, remaining in a size similar to that of a child. Each duplicate goes in different directions, each hero follows a different one while the main one remains in place to serve as backup.

Marc can see from their different perspectives the way power works, there is no way they can get closer without perishing like buildings. The others don't fully understand him, but he does.

The Akuma seems to detonate its powers through a form of echo location, similar to what bats do, only instead of just directing it around the place, it also causes perfectly directed destruction, if they get close they will be hit and probably killed. It's inconspicuous from the directions you see, but it's enough.

If there was ever any doubt that the new villain wanted them dead, this new Akuma victim is proof that this is the case.

"We need one of two, someone who can demonstrate directly in front of the Akuma or someone in armor to withstand the impact of the echo location."

"Is that?"

"It's the closest I could discern."

"We need Tunin." Kagami suggests, it's better not to trust again and the Dragon's abilities are easily used over long distances, they wouldn't even be exposing the child.

"Yes…"

"It's done. Equuleus, bring Tunin to the field. ”Felix smiles, sure Damian will be ecstatic with the news. Since the first attack Akuma has wanted to leave and although there have only been two before that, they had not wanted to risk it yet.

Quickly, the boy appears next to LadyNoir and when he sees his mother, he feels guilty. Running away to find Constantine doesn't count as betraying her trust, does it? He may think that even she should have considered it, although perhaps what should bothers her is that he blackmailed Plagg.

"Something happens?"Marinette asks her little boy, who doesn't seem fully prepared, although his amber eyes seem to reflect something else.

"No mother. What should I do?"

"Can you simulate a storm, baby dragon?" Ateliade questions, if they can confuse the echo location (as Mures calls it) she can release her power and allow them to attack to obtain the Akumatized item, although it cannot be seen which one. Guessing is not much fun.

"Something happens?"Marinette asks her little boy, who doesn't seem fully prepared, although his amber eyes seem to reflect something else.

"No mother. What should I do?"

"Yes, two of the abilities are combined. It's harder, but if I just have to do that, it'll be fine.”He says with conviction.

Jade Shield moves to take people out of the Akuma's path, who cannot fully escape. Rakkīgāru unites to help, as long as they are not sure that their little plan works, they should avoid casualties as best they can.

Damian draws his sword and begins to move in parallel with the Akuma, at a good distance while concentrating on the two abilities he wants to activate at the same time. He can do it only because he's stubborn and his mother was helping him with every step, he wanted to be able to be a real help to fight alongside miraculous adult users and for that he needed to make an effort. As he tries to muster his energies for that, he better understands why his mother insisted so much that not yet, but done or not, it's his time.

"Tunin! Now or never."

He growls at Ateliade's words, but activates his powers.

"Dragon of Air and Lightning. "

Damian disappears to make way for a thick black cloud of storm that spreads around the Akuma, the lightning moves through the clouds and attacks the Violet Dolphin, which he barely dodges due to the interferences that the sound makes in his abilities... In addition to the poor vision that it has is frustrated by the intense light intervals that the rushing rays generate.

It really is a storm.

-----

Bruce Wayne is Batman

I can jump from eighth floor and survive: Paris has strange creatures.

Hell rejected me: What kind of strange creatures? Metas?

I can jump from eight floor and survive: No... it's a bat-winged dolphin that destroys everything in its path. And there are the heroes they mentioned!

I'll rest when I die: Is it real?

I can read your mind with a single glance: Are they the heroes and not the vigilantes?

I can ump from eight floor and survive: Yup, it's the heroes. Although they are still while talking.

I’m not Batman: I want a report.

I'll rest when I die: Your interest in our safety is flattering

-----

"Oh God! The boy just turned into a storm! How?! Where's the point in all of this?!"Dick almost has the jaw in the ground when seeing how the hero boy vanishes in a black cloud that begins to flash and cover the strange creature.

Everything is being televised with drones, according to the presenter. It also features the new hero, who is registered as part of the Team.

"Tunin is the current owner of the Miraculous Dragon, it was entered into the official register two months ago. His abilities are much more polished than previous Miraculous user Ryukko, demonstrating much more training. Despite his young age in relation to other heroes, we can be sure that he's trustworthy. He has already demonstrated this by displaying new skills and a great mastery of his powers. "

Tim watches with too worrying ease, still holding his cup of coffee, but he seems to pay little attention to what the newscaster has said.

He doesn't blame him, the situation seems to come out of a dream, with the same little sense.

He doesn't lose attention to what happens, they are far enough so that what happens is only barely visible through the window, but the view from the drone is very accurate. Soon another hero, the presenter calls her Ateliade, activates another power and a dragon stuffed toy falls into her hands, she and LadyNoir (the leader, according to what they said) put themselves in position taking advantage of the fact that the Akuma is too busy dealing with the cloud storm.

"It seems we managed to capture Rakkīgāru and Jade Shield as well, helping civilians to get out of the Akuma's path." Indeed, the two heroes move through the streets picking up people from the probable routes of the Giant Dolphin. "Mures remains on the sidelines, he seems to be fulfilling the role of watchman. Like Tunin, it's his first appearance. He has been registered as an official part of the team for six years, he's the second user of the Miraculous Mouse, after Multimouse with a single appearance ten years ago. "

Dick is surprised to learn that information, ten years ago? Since when is Paris dealing with this villain? Maybe he should go to the prosecution and the KanTech offices to find out the information required to know the matter.

"Dick..."

"Hmm?"

"Am I dreaming?"

"No."

"I'll leave the caffeine." Tim puts the cup on the table in front of him and takes his computer to start investigating, having his location in Paris, the information about the Akuma begin to appear. "Eleven years ago Hawkmoth first appeared and with him two heroes: Ladybug and Chat Noir. As time went by more heroes appeared and rotated, before Gabriel Agreste was arrested for being Hawkmoth, Paris was left alone with three heroes: Ladybug, Chat Noir and Vulpes. Chat Noir turned out to be the son of the villain, who was devastated and gave up being a hero... "

"What?" Dick stops watching television, missing the exact moment the Akuma goes crazy and its echo location loses the destructive effect because he can't focus enough for it.

"This is a summary of what happened seven years ago. The Butterfly Miraculous was stolen by the killer of Nathalie Sancour, the previous user of the Peacock. That Miraculous returned to the hands of Ladybug... Graham de Vanely spearheaded the lawsuit against Gabriel Agreste and Adrien was forced to marry Lila Rossi to keep his mother alive, as the heroes investigate a cure for the magical coma..."

"How did they manage to hide ALL THAT from the world?"

"Magic." Tim growls, that's the main reason, then with the joint efforts of different government bodies they became self-sufficient in it, making laws that allowed Parisian heroes and vigilantes to run freely making them an official identity within the country, but without being linked to it. How did it evolve to that point? Not even in the United States, with the acceptance of the heroes in the country, have they managed to do something like this... Will the French be more intelligent or are they much more paranoid? Because there is a complete security protocol so that the information does not come out.

They are so in jail just for mentioning all that to their family.

"We can't give that report to B... or come out as Robin and Nightwing."

"Should we register?" "Tim nods, but as far as he knows, only the MT can register heroes or vigilantes and for that they would need to contact them and give a good excuse for their visit." Everything is very well detailed, the theme of the vigilantes is not super secret like heroes. It's illegal to mention them on social networks outside the jurisdiction of France and word of mouth would not be credible because there is no information available. "

"Rakkigaru launches the cure!" The television distracts them again and they are surprised, again, to see how all the damage begins to repair itself and return to its original state.

"W-What…?

"It's one of the Miraculous Ladybug powers... it's one of the few skills that are publicly known and accurately described. The rest appear as: doubtful or not precise. "

"Do you think they are handling it well?"

"Yes... according to what Felix Graham de Vanely said, half of the evidence he presented was offered by the heroes of Paris and was, precisely, the most incriminating. Seven years have passed and they have the support of the MT, which have cleaned up the country's organized crime very well and have followed several very difficult cases that they have managed to manage... They have a more brilliant list of achievements than ours. You know, the Joker escaping Arkham every month is a stain on our record. ”Tim laughs a little when he says it. He would like to know their methods, although he suspects that they must have a network of informants, something that they have not used much because in Gotham it's unlikely to find trustworthy people, only Jason got several informants, but they have not reached more than that.

"Then let's just say hello."

"And let's seek to join that information network."

Tim sets that goal, to be part of that vigilant circle to which the MT belongs.

-----

Vivian @ LadyLuck_08

I loved Tunin's debut, will his hair be naturally long?

Leonor @Scar_FullMLeo

Did you see Mures? He's so cute

Ladybug comeback @ LadybugHero_89

It took a round hour to stop the Akuma. New record.

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

Finally! I hate the basement. Who was the smart one who decided that it would be a good Akuma refuge?

#maribat #dickinette #dick x marinette #mominette #ml x dc

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