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sp0o0kylights · 1 year ago

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Steve and Gareth as cousins warm up, part two!

First part is HERE.

Next part is HERE.

Reminder: Someone on Twitter proposed Steve and Gareth as cousins whose family had a major falling out, and then someone else brought it up recently and long story short no idea who to credit the idea too bc you can’t search for SHIT on Twitter but it's theirs not mine.

Warnings: Steve and Robin Get (canon-S3) Drugged.

"I'm just saying the other theater is cheaper." Eddie said around the straw jammed in his mouth.

He carried the largest bucket of popcorn Starcourt’s movie theater offered, alongside the two boxes of candy he'd also demanded Gareth buy him.

"Easier to sneak into, you mean." Gareth corrected, with his significantly smaller bag of popcorn. His, he planned to share with Jeff, Grant having snuck in his own food.

Gareth himself would have snuck in the cheaper (and far larger) snacks, but Eddie had thrown a fit about going to the mall to see a new movie instead of Hawkin’s far older theater.

Of course, the older theater also had several disadvantages, key of which was terrible seating, and so, Gareth had bribed him with whatever treats he wanted.

His wallet took a hit but fuck it, at least they got to actually see the screen.

Not that they even made it into the fucking theater, because someone chose that moment to crash into Eddie.

Popcorn kernels and soda flew everywhere, with Eddie only avoiding it landing on him and Gareth both by years of dealing with this exact bullshit in school. Of course, the mall wasn’t school, and neither of them had their guard up.

"What the hell man--" Eddie spat, immediately on the defense, as they both turned to see what jackass wanted to cause problems this time.

Except Gareth had recognized the person who bumped him.

"Steve?" Gareth asked, causing his cousin to totter around and face him. He was in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, which remained to be absolutely ridiculous, but that hadn't been what had drawn Gareth's attention.

No, that would be the absolute wrecked face staring at him with a doped up grin.

All thoughts of the movie immediately faded away.

"What happened to your face!?" Gareth demanded, immediately stepping up into his cousin's space, eyes darting over the damage.

Recent black eye, split lip, blood splatter all down one side of his neck, nevermind his clothes…

"Robs!" Steve called over his shoulder instead of answering, body moving as if he was walking on a wildly rocking boat and not solid ground. "Come 'ere!"

He beamed, which had the horrific effect of resplitting his lips. "Meet Gareth, my baby cousin!"

"I am two years younger than you." Gareth argued on automatic. He didn’t look to see how Eddie took this little piece of info--he’d figure out what he’d say later, when Steve wasn’t covered in blood.

It did not stop Robin from reaching out to pinch his cheeks.

She too, Gareth realized, was clearly high on something, both of them giggling and weaving on their feet.

At least Robin didn’t appear to be hurt--or at least, not hurt as badly as Steve.

"What the hell did you two take?" Gareth demanded, looking between them as he quickly put his popcorn back off to the side.

"We didn't take anything, dad." Steve said bossily, rolling his eyes. He spoke in a voice so unlike himself that Gareth knew his own face was doing something crazy.

Not that he could stop it because what the hell.

"What my patriotic friend here means is that we don't know." Robin added, smacking a hand onto Steve’s shoulder.

(The entire sentence was slurred and sounded like she'd shoved candy in her mouth before she started talking.)

"You don't know?!” Gareth asked, taking in the way Steve flinched when Robin touched him. Added a mental note to check his cousin's shoulder too. “How do you not know?"

Gareth wasn't panicking, he wasn't, except he absolutely fucking was. Steve's dad was going to kill him, disown him, and throw the body out of his house--in that exact order.

Gareth’s parents wouldn’t take him in, not unless his mom felt she could use it to one up her sister in some way which meant that Gareth was going to have to sneak Steve in and out of the house like he was some--some puppy Gareth was trying to keep and--

"Did someone give you two something?" Eddie asked, interrupting Gareth’s spiraling.

"Give is a very strong word." Steve said with a snicker.

Robin nodded so much she looked like a bobble head. She leaned in, nearly falling into Gareth in the process. “In fact it’s not the word I’d use at all! I’d use…” She trailed off, screwing her eyes up in thought.

“Made us?” Steve suggested as Gareth finally gave in to his instincts and reached out to steady his cousin. “Forced us?”

“Socked it to us!” Robin added with a weird amount of glee, and the two of them once again collapsed into giggles.

Literally, forcing Gareth to try and steady them both.

Which meant Eddie was right--they’d been drugged. It made perfect sense-- Steve wasn’t the kind to experiment with drugs beyond weed. Had in fact, given a very long lecture about how he’d make Gareth go on runs with him if he ever found out Eddie had given him anything stronger than weed.

There was no way he’d change now, and especially not around a jobsite. Particularly one as busy as the mall.

"You can't tell anybody." Robin continued, eyes so wide they were more white than pupils. "But we got truth serumed!"

As if that made any fucking sense.

Gareth turned a half frantic, half disbelieving look to Eddie--whose own face scared him almost as badly as Steve's did.

He was hiding it, and doing a good job of doing so, but Eddie was the one person Gareth knew better than Steve.

Right now? Eddie Munson was furious.

Not mad, or upset, or even as pissed as he had been the time Tommy Hagan had thrown his drug box in the river.

He was enraged.

"Hey." He said, and the only thing more shocking than realizing Eddie was this mad was hearing him talk in a calming, almost playful voice. "Sounds like you two sailors had a pretty rough time. Why don't we go to the bathroom and get you both cleaned up? I bet you'll feel a little better."

It was clearly the right move, because both of them looked downright delighted.

"He thinks we're sailors!" Steve said, cupping a hand around his mouth and leaning to talk in Robin’s ear as if he was whispering. (He wasn’t.)

Robin’s grin grew impossibly wider, before Eddie stepped forward to help Gareth half guide half herd the two into the nearest bathroom.

"I know you." Robin said, squinting dramatically as Eddie opened the door with his regular flair, bellowing for anyone in the place to get out.

It was Steve's turn to nod enthusiastically. "That's Eddie, Robbie." He said.

"I'm honored King Steve knows such a humble peasant's name." Eddie bowed as Gareth finally got both Steve and Robin into the bathroom, trying to get them to sit on the floor before they fell on their asses.

Which just made a hurt expression appear on Steve's face. "’Course I do. You have really pretty hair."

It had the effect of making Eddie look like he’d been punched and Gareth had to quickly turn his bark of laughter into a cough.

"I bet it's soft.” Steve continued, as he pressed his back against the tiled wall and slowly slid down to the floor. “Gare, is it soft?"

"It's very soft." Gareth agreed, trying to wet a paper towel with shaking hands. Finally he gave up entirely, ripping the plaid sweater he had tied around his waist and shoving one of the sleeves into the sink.

“Oh my god.” Robin said abruptly, sitting up from her own slouched spot on the floor as if she’d suddenly been stricken sober. “It’s him! He’s your type!”

“What’s my type?” Steve turned to her, as Eddie leaned his back against the door to the bathroom, blocking anyone else from entering.

“It’s like--like Nancy! But boy Nancy.” Robin seemed to think this made a ton of sense, and given Steve’s immediate groan maybe it did to him, but Gareth was too freaked out to even begin to process what the hell they were on about.

Probably nothing, given they’d been drugged.

Eddie seemed to pick up on his general anxiety and poor attempts at shoving down his own freakout, because he gently called out Gareth’s name.

“I think it’s wet enough.” He added with a raised eyebrow. His eyes drifted purposefully to the sink and with a curse, Gareth snapped shut the water off.

His hands were still shaking.

“Give it to me.” Eddie said gently, moving to take the shirt from Gareth’s hands. “Here, swap me Gare, and guard the door.”

Gareth did, as Eddie knelt down to take Steve’s chin in one hand, and carefully began dapping his wounded face with the wet sleeve.

“May I ask what battles you two sailors have been involved in?” He said, continuing to sound like playful, fun Eddie and not like he was about to murder half the town (which, Gareth could tell by body language alone, is what Eddie actually felt like) “Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the villains who did this?"

“Robin melted into Steve, rubbing her face in his shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe us.”

Eddie smiled his most charming smile, a full blown rouge grin he played up as he continued to wipe and dab at Steve’s wounds. “You’d be surprised at what I believe in, my fair lady.”

Steve tried to talk, but ended up hissing as he ran into Eddie’s fingers.

“Russians.” He managed to get out, when Eddie quickly took the sleeve away so he could talk. “We got kidnapped by fucking Russians. Also we kinda saw some shit and they’re after us. Possibly you now if they saw you with us.”

There was the briefest of pause as Steve and Robin stared at Eddie, as Eddie stared back.

Then Steve and Robin as one started howling with laughter, so hard that Robin’s head ended up in Steve’s lap with Steve’s own head resting on hers.

Eddie turned to give Gareth a pinched look. “Russians.” He said, still calm despite it all. “Right.”

Which had to be the fucking drugs speaking.

Gareth just took a deep breath as Eddie managed to gently prod Steve back into putting his chin in his hand, shaking his head ever so slightly.

He didn’t know who he was going to actually have to murder, but at least Eddie looked to be on board with acting as his backup.

#tw drugs #tw canon bodily injury #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #eddie munson #Gareth Emerson #Gareth and Steve as cousins #secret cousins #whose family had a falling out #Eddie is fuckin PISSED #he may be a drug dealer but he is a drug dealer with MORALS #how dare someone drug people in his town!#mind hes thinking Steve somehow took a hit for Robin and then they still got Robin anyways but ya know #Gareth is having a full bore anxiety meltdown #He just wants his older cousin to be okay : ( \

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firelordsfirelady · 6 months ago

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XVII. The List

Author: @firelordsfirelady

Imagine: When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess?

Pairing: Zuko x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, feelings of fear, banishment, mentions of burns/abuse, frustration, violence, betrayal, language

Word Count: 1639

Destined to be Yin and Yang

I own no rights to Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters/story.

Author’s Notes

The characters as all aged up so Zuko’s banishment happens when he’s 16

Keep in mind I am bringing a unique world with inspiration from ATLA in their characters, some of the events that happen, bending, etc. Not many things may align or occur with what happened in the show. It’s intended that way, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.

See Y/N’s look this chapter here.

Destined to be Yin and Yang Soundtrack (YouTube)

I had just pulled the undershirt over my head to expose my wound when a gentle set of knocks sounded at my door.

“It’s me.” Zuko’s voice was quiet from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?” Sighing as I looked down at the undergarments that kept my chest covered, I debated telling the Prince to buzz off.

Why do you need to check on your distraction? I thought sarcastically before I granted him permission to enter. I turned my back to the door before I could see Zuko walk in.

“Where are we off to next?” I asked as I finished taking the shirt off of me. “I know you saw the sky bison flying away too.” The last words I whispered were soft as I held my shirt in my hands. The sound of a door closing then water sloshing in a bucket brought my attention to the Prince as he set down a bucket before he looked at the wound on my left shoulder. The area around it was slightly red as the cells within worked hard to repair the damage caused by the rock, and it was slightly oozing a bit of clear liquid now. Zuko took a seat on the edge my bed as he rolled up his sleeves.

“We must wait for news of anything unusual.” Zuko’s voice sounded defeated as he grabbed a rag from within the bucket. “It’s a waiting game now.” He carefully wrung out the excess water from the rag before he moved to come towards me, but I grabbed his wrist lightly to stop him.

“I can handle my wounds.” I felt the rush of blood as it came to turn my cheeks red in the soft candlelight. I found it hard to look at Zuko as his eyes tried to convey whatever emotions he was feeling. Looking away from him, I tried to grab the rag, but Zuko tightened his grip on the cloth.

“I know you can handle your wound.” Zuko’s words were barely above a whisper. “Please, just let me help.” I bit back any hurt remark I would’ve thrown at him as I nodded my head and allowed Zuko to tend to the wound. His touch was gentle as he cleaned the area around the wound, and we sat in silence as neither of us made eye contact with the other. I wondered if he could feel how rapid my heart was beating with his proximity, or if he knew how messed up he had my heart, mind, and feelings.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He whispered as he dipped the rag back in the bucket.

“There’s a long list of things I shouldn’t do.” I said just as quietly as the Firebender had. “So, I’m going to need you to elaborate.”

“You should have gone back to the boat.” Zuko said as he brought the rag back to clean my wound. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but his gaze was focused on the wound in my shoulder. The golden orbs held a deep sadness as he paused his action when he noticed my gaze on his face.

Gently taking the rag from Zuko, I levitated a small ball of water to me before maneuvering it to occupy the small deep hole in my shoulder. Closing my eyes, I focused on the flow of water in my body as I willed the wound to close. Bringing my hands back down, I heard Zuko’s sharp intake of air as he saw the faint scar that replaced the open wound.

“If I had, then Iroh would be the one with the injury.” My eyes remained closed as I spoke softly. “Staying on the boat is on the list of something I shouldn’t have done.” A moment of silence passed between us before Zuko quietly asked.

“What else is on the list?” I felt my heart stop briefly before it began to rapidly beat as I swallowed my nerves and decided to honestly speak with the man looking at me with golden pools for eyes.

“I probably shouldn’t have been on the boat to the Fire Nation three years ago.” I opened my eyes to look at my hands that were placed in my lap. “I probably should’ve died once I stepped foot in the Fire Nation Capital.” A joyless chuckle left me as felt a wave of emotions crash into me.

“I shouldn’t have kept my dream about the Avatar to myself, but I wouldn’t have been able to see the light leave your eyes if it was another empty lead.” I wet my lips and swallowed before I continued. “I shouldn’t have been jealous at the thought of someone waiting for you back home, and I shouldn’t have been so relieved when you didn’t.” Looking up, I found intense golden pools staring at me, and the wave of emotions hit me harder as my heart raced within my ribcage.

“I shouldn’t be in an arranged marriage with you. I mean, you’re a Firebender,” I motioned towards Zuko before I took some water from the bucket and played with it between my hands. “And I’m a Waterbender.” I guided the water to extinguish one of the lit candles nearby, and I sighed.

Our elements themselves are yin and yang.

“I shouldn’t hate how the world treats you, and I shouldn’t see the good in you.” I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as I barely whispered my next words as I looked at Zuko again. “I shouldn’t care about you as much as I do.” The only sound in the room was the soft inhales and exhales of our breathing as the Firebender looked back at me. My eyes tried their best to memorize every detail of the man’s face in case I didn’t see him this close again.

“There’s a long list of things I shouldn’t have done.” I said in a normal tone as I leaned back into the chair. “Two things aren’t on that list: helping you rescue your uncle, and helping you regain your honor.” A yawn escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Prince Zuko, but I am exhausted after today’s events.” Zuko frowned slightly at his formal title. “I am in desperate need of a bath before bed.” I laughed a bit to help hide the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks. Zuko stood after I started to stand, but he gently grabbed my wrist as I went to walk past him, stopping me in my tracks. Turning to look at him, I felt a gentle tug before soft lips met mine and a hand cupped the left side of my face. As his other hand cupped the other side of my face, I closed my eyes and kissed the Firebender back before he pulled back to look at me.

“You shouldn’t have done that….” I whispered as I searched Zuko’s eyes for the answer to the question my heart was dying to know.

“I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.” Zuko whispered as his golden eyes steadily held my gaze. “I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you.” Zuko’s right thumb gently stroked the left side my face as his eyes put his guilt on full display. “I shouldn’t have called you a distraction.”

“I shouldn’t act like you don’t mean anything to me.” Disbelief overtook my face as my heart leapt in my throat, and I struggled to swallow it back down.

“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean….” I whispered while my mind raced and my heart panicked as my eyes flickered to look at Zuko’s lips before looking back to the golden pools. A soft smile was on Zuko’s lips as he looked at me before his hands left my face and he extended his right pinky to me.

“I pinky promise that I won’t say anything I don’t mean.” He whispered as his hopeful eyes searched mine. With my heart racing in my chest, I wrapped my pinky around his and squeezed.

“There’s another one more thing on my list.” Zuko whispered as he kept holding the pinky promise with reddened cheeks, and I raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t enjoy doing this.” Using my pinky to close the space between us, Zuko’s lips met mine in a gentle kiss. With red cheeks, we pulled away from each other and I let out a small giddy chuckle then smiled at the Firebender.

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one.” Zuko smiled as he suddenly looked away in embarrassment before he cleared his throat and lightly rubbed the back of his head.

“I fear that I have kept you from getting to bed,” Zuko’s words were soft as he nervously shifted on his feet. “Forgive me.” He said in a teasing manner as the corner of his lip raised in a slight smile. I sucked my teeth as I slightly shook my head in a teasing manner.

“I might be incline to forgive you if there’s jasmine tea involved in the apology.” I smiled at Zuko as I rocked slightly on my heels then straightened up and stifled another yawn. “I really need to go bathe before I pass out in the water and drown.”

“There will be no drowning with me around.” Zuko said with a small laugh. “I wouldn’t want to break my pinky promise.” I smiled as Zuko walked towards the door.

“Good night, Zuko.” I said as he turned around to look at me once he was in the hall before I got on my tip toes and placed a light kiss on his lips.

“Good night, Y/N.” The Firebender’s cheeks were red as he turned around and went into his room across the hall.

Tag List @chevysstuffs @puttyly @ginger24880 @night-fall-moon @junieshohoho @0kauy @coolgirl458 @hypnoticbeing @angelruinz @preeyansha @playboygeniusphilanthropist @ssonniiu @chi-ara @hagridshaircare @stell404 @kyo-kyo1 @herondale-lightworm @simonsbluee @nadlx33333 @nerdisthenewcool @jewelsrules @soggycrout0n @mymomsdisappointment @leeaintthere-blog @sanskritisays

#avatar imagine #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #destined to be yin and yang

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piss-pumpkin · 6 months ago

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🩸What doesn’t kill you leaves you wounded 🩹

(Older)dipper pines x reader, Douce amere chapter 21, ~3.4K words Masterlist prev

Tw- blood, hospital

“Y/n!” Dipper yelled. Oh god. Holy shit. He was across the circle in seconds sliding to his knees by Grunkle Fords feet, to the spot where you now laid unconscious. Jesus Christ. His hands flew to your shoulders and he resisted the urge to shake you. He wanted to do anything to wake you up, but his brain was in overdrive. Don’t shake a head injury, that makes concussions worse, he thought. So instead he stared at you, trying to think of anything to do.

Your eyes had fallen shut, so he didn’t even know if Bill was gone. He had to be. Clearly the zodiac worked. But was that good, or bad? Fords words echoed in his mind. They’re the boat, he’d said.

Dipper didn’t realize Ford was kneeling beside him to, and checking your pulse, until he looked up and declared, “They’re alive.”

Okay. That’s good. That means things are okay. But he still felt frozen. Your hair was plastered to your forehead with blood, and with shaky hands Dipper tried to brush it aside to get a better look at the gash.

He shuddered. The blood was streaked across your forehead from the hair, and dripped down your face, even catching on your lashes. Dippers hand flew to cover his mouth, and he reflexively stumbled back. Mabel caught him. He hadn’t realized she’d been there.

He was half aware of people yelling. Wendy was by your head, applying pressure to the wound. Figures she’d know first aid, or something close to it. Though Dipper wanted to scream and nitpick. Pressure on a head wound? What if that makes it worse? But the bleeding needs to be stopped, that’s priority one. Could Bill have damaged the skull? Dipper was shaking, and Mabel was trying to steady him, to little avail. There was a commotion of sorts. As it should be, where you were concerned.

You were alive, that’s all that mattered. A cruel part of him wanted to add a for now to that statement. Alive, but with a bloody face.

Somewhere in the chaos he head the word: hospital. That seemed like a good idea. Dipper tried to get to his feet, but his legs betrayed him, and he crashed back down on his knees. In an instant, Mabel and Pacifica were heaving him up by the arms. The sudden motion sent the world into a blur around him as his head grew light, heart pounding. He managed to echo the word he’d heard, “Hospital.”

People were already moving. Stan was scrambling around, but his car was gone. Car. Shit. You’d- Bill had left it somewhere. Somebody had to call an ambulance. He wasn’t sure if anyone had done it already, so he gave it a shot. His trembling hand dipped into his pocket, and his hand was almost too sweaty to type his passcode.

He didn’t managed by the time you were being scooped up, and put into somebody else’s car, Robbie’s van, laid across the middle row. Right. Yeah. Other people had cars. He cursed himself for not knowing how to drive. Would Robbie go fast enough? There was no traffic law that had to be obeyed in a time like this.

Robbie was in the drivers seat. Wendy buckled you in, even as you laid down, just in case. First your chest, then looped around the van to your legs. There was a cloth, a ripped piece of her shirt on your head to soak up the blood. Dipper stumbled up to the car, throwing open the door beside your head. He looked up at Wendy, “Pressure?” He managed.

Wendy nodded coolly, “yeah.” How she managed to be so calm, he’d never understand. A few more people jumped in the car. Mabel in the passenger seat, Ford in the back, Stan was still away searching for his own keys. Dipper gently picked your head up to rest on his lap so he could sit on your row.

He winced looking down at your face. The cloth was almost soaked through, and left red blotches on his hands when he applied pressure.

When the passengers had seatbelts, Robbie floored it. Good. Fast. Dipper was half aware of Wendy on the other side of the seat, near your feet. His eyes were stuck on your nose, and how it seemed to be painted with the dripping blood.

He blamed himself. And the days he spent upset at you ached like a hole in his heart. All his issues seemed insignificant, now. You’d finally done the exorcism, but…

You’d once told him; no more possession. You were talking about Mabel. It was what, less than a month ago? It felt longer than that. Like he’d fumbled an entire lifetime with you. He might’ve.

Dipper barely noticed the entire car ride. He kept pressure on your head, and he watched the stop signs zip by without the hint of a break in the van, and heard the piecing shriek of car horns in response. That was good. They’re fine. They’re fine. You’re fine. You weren’t moving much.

He hadn’t been to the gravity falls hospital before, never had the need. It was small, really more like a doctors office, and on the outskirts of the town. Dipper didn’t know about the back ambulance entrance until Robbie pulled into it. Suppose Dipper had only seen it from the front and in passing.

Mabel was the first to run out of the van, booking it to the door. Probably to get help. He didn’t see her pass through the doors with the van in the way. Dipper was careful to keep the cloth hard pressed on your head even as he unbuckled his seatbelt and slid open the door. The cloth was wet, and it sent shivers down his spine.

We’re here at the doctors, he thought. This is the best place to be right now. There were people in there who could fix this. Dipper stood by your head, and you were still resting on the seat. He glanced up at Wendy across from him at the vans other door. “Sh-should we get them out?” He sputtered.

Wendy paused, and looked back behind her. “Wait, I think they’re-“

Then people came running out. People in scrubs came, and pushed him and Wendy out of the way.

Dipper watched as they worked, and then took you. They brought a gurney. And in a rush you were off, and Ford was talking to somebody who looked important. Robbie and Wendy were together, Dipper couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Eventually, they were piled into the waiting room. It must have been a slow day besides this, because there were only two other people sat down. One guy looked to have a twisted ankle. One guy was Toby Determined. Dipper was staring at the tile floor. It was white, but old. Specks of old stains or new dirt marked all of it, and the space between the tiles had plenty dust.

He sat with his head in his hands. Your blood was still streaks across his forehead. The nurses asked about it, but he wasn’t hurt.

They’d been there a while, now. Others left, some popped in. Dipper could feel his phone buzz now and again with texts from busy people asking if you’d been let out yet. He didn’t respond.

Your aunt Susan got called in, being your guardian. That was an awkward conversation. Dipper didn’t know what to say when she zeroed in on all of them and asked what had happened. Maybe she expected him to protect you. He didn’t have an answer. Dipper was more than glad when Stan did it for him, said you’d hit your head. It was Ford who mentioned why.

It was him, Mabel, Ford and Stan, Pacifica, and Susan. He’d been holding Mabel’s hand for comfort earlier, but he needed both now to keep his head off the floor.

Each time a nurse or doctor walked in or by or down the hall and he caught a glimpse of them, he thought it might be good news. Or bad. He was halfway aware of Stans hand patting his shoulder. The waiting room was quiet, just the full hum of a fan behind the receptionists desk, and the occasional cough from somebody waiting. People drifted in and out. Toby was still around. Twisted ankle guy got seen by his doctor.

Pacifica had to go. Her parents needed her at home, and even with her protests, she had to leave. She squeezed Mabel’s arm, and tapped Dipper on hand on her way out.

It was maybe mid afternoon when somebody finally came. A doctor this time, not a nurse. She asked for Susan, and your aunt said it was okay that the rest hear the prognosis, too. Dippers hands were cold, he fidgeted with his fingers to try and warm them up, but it didn’t work.

The doctor took a breath. “So, our patient is alright,” she started. Dippers fingers started to twitch as they tapped faster on his palm. “They suffered a pretty bad hit to the head, though, we’re looking at a concussion, but it could be worse. Their records indicate no previous serious head trauma, which is good, we’ll have to wait and see about any symptoms, but there’s a few we can expect, at least for a while,” she said, handing lazy Susan a paper. She scanned it with her good eye while the doctor kept talking.

Dippers hands were sweaty. You were okay. He wanted to yell, or celebrate, but he was still scared. He hoped so hard that there wouldn’t be lasting effects. But you were okay. And Bill was gone. Win-win. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so sick to his stomach once he saw you, and saw you were fine.

The weight of the room seemed to lift a bit when the doctor left. You were alright, so some things were well.

Eventually, they told him to leave. The staff urged the pines family and Susan to go home, to come back tomorrow when you were in better condition. Dipper frowned, “are you sure we can’t stay until we can see them again?”

Mabel nodded along.

The nurse bit her lip, and tapped at her clip board, and told them all you’d be in better shape tomorrow. Dipper wanted to fight, but a hand landed in his shoulder to hold him back. Stan shot him a soft look, “Kid,” he started. “Get some rest.”

Dipper hesitated, brow furrowing. How long had they been sitting in the hospital? He felt dead tired, it was like the waiting room drained the life out of him. He sighed, “Fine.”

And then he left.

…

Eyes crusted shut, you came too with a headache. Both in the sense that your brain hurt, maybe from stress or tiredness, and in the sense that it felt like your skull was throbbing. However that worked. But you were you. You thought. You thought some more, taking in the sensations around you. Bed. Sheets. Pillow. Lights. Even if eyes closed you could feel them. All that, and no trace of Bill. Holy fuck it actually worked.

You tried to open your eyes. They had a hard time adjusting, the hospital light seemed brighter than the sun. Hospital. You were in a hospital, it seemed. what happened- right. It took a few moments, but it came flooding back, and your head seemed to ache and throb at the memory. Bills attack. You resisted the urge to touch your forehead. You must have been bandaged.

When the nurses saw you were awake, they were nice. Gave you water, ice chips, asked if you were alright. As soon as it was allowed, they let Dipper, Mabel, and Susan into the room.

That was nice. When with them, fussing over you and holding your hand, it didn’t feel real, like it was really done that easy. Easy? We’re calling that easy? At least nobody died. You could almost laugh, you at least smiled. You nearly had, died that is. A couple more good hits and maybe you would have.

They told you the damages. They changed your bandages. You’d be good to leave eventually. Soonish, maybe.

Dipper held your hand. You didn’t know how long he’d been there, or how long he was waiting for you. His head was rested on his elbow as he laid it on the thin and uncomfortable mattress. He had a little smile, a shy one halfway hidden behind his arm. You’d asked him to stop inquiring if you were alright, you’d heard that enough. Every once in a while though, he snuck the question in. You could always tell it was coming by the way his eyes hung on your bandaged head.

Mabel brought a weird raunchy werewolf romance novel. That was unexpected. When she came to see you, she grinned when she walked in and pulled it out of her bag like a dramatic reveal, and despite your protests, read it with you. But it grew on your pretty fast. Mabel was right, it was a little funny. Though you halfway suspected that it wasn’t entirely ironic for her.

They gave you meds: antibodies to prevent infection of the wound, something to help you sleep, pain killers. They gave you spare bandage rolls, to change with. Your head didn’t feel great, but the drugs helped. And then they gave you less of them.

Eventually, you were discharged. It might’ve been a few days. Aunt Susan took you home. Her home, that is. And had time off to see to it that you were rested and taken care of. Your room felt weird. The last time you’d slept here, it wasn’t you. It was possession, and all your drawers, files, and items had been snooped through and prodded around by Bill looking for any secret that could kill you, physically or otherwise. You gulped as you stepped inside. Bill had left your laptop on the bed.

Sighing, you moved it to the side table, and sat down on the mattress. It was much softer than the hospitals. You stared at the wall. With headache and a body that wasn’t yours, you’d studied the wall a while back. Looked and memorized every little stain or crack in the paint, and every notch of the trim. You could see this wall if you closed your eyes, probably.

You slumped back on the bed. This sucked. The sun was high in the sky, maybe midday. And you were here, forced to take it easy.

You stood slowly, to help the head, and drifted to the bathroom, and eyes caught on the mirror. It was you. You still had a bandage from the roll over your forehead and wrapped around. You couldn’t even see any red marks on it, on the outside it seemed clean. Soon, you wouldn’t even need the roll, and you could switch to one more akin to a big bandaid. Who knew if that would be more or less comfortable. At least you barely noticed it anymore as it was now.

It was hard to resist the urge to touch it. Pursing your lips together, you gave in, and ghosted your fingers across so softly you could barely feel it. That accomplished nothing.

Taking it easy wasn’t all that easy. You realized that much as you leaned on the counter to stare at yourself, with nothing to do.

Oh shit. You had embarrassing death note-y letters just sitting in Soos’ break room. You could go move those. It would at least get you outside. If they found that, it would be so embarrassing. Yeah, that was something to do.

You put shoes on.

“Y/n?” Susan called from the kitchen. Right. She made her way to the doorway. “And where do you think your going?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I was going to stop by the shack,” you started. “Go for a walk, get some fresh air.”

Susan made a face, and you could tell she wasn’t entirely happy. She looked at you, then at the door, then back to you. Sighing, she leaned on the wall. “Y/n, I’d rather you stayed and rested,” she said, worlds clinging to her lips like she wanted to keep them to herself.

She might’ve been right. “Please?” You asked, shooting a weak smile with brow raised. The way it creased your forehead felt funny under the bandage. You might need to take another painkiller on your way out. Or when you get to the shack… the doctors said you shouldn’t be alone while you were on them. Or drive.

Susan sighed. “You’re going to be back by dinner time, okay?”

You nodded, and tried not to let it show that the motion sort of hurt.

“Okay, go tell them you’re alright,” she relented.

You smiled, offered a “thanks,” and left with a bag that had a sweater and a bottle of pills.

It was bright. Despite the summer weather, you’d spent so much time locked up indoors lately. That should probably change, you thought. Soon it would. When you were better.

When you got to the shack, you went to the front door to sidestep the gift shop. You glanced at the spot on the grass where the shacks magical barrier had taken affect before, the threshold between freedom and possession. You were over it.

Approaching the door, you were startled when it swung open in front of you.

“Y-y/n?!” Dipper exclaimed, hovering in the doorway. His jaw has fallen open, eyes wide as they flickered from your forehead to your gaze. “You’re out of the hospital?”

His eyes were burning through you, but mostly you were just glad to see him. Second, you noticed Mabel behind him, and she bounced over to the doorframe, too. “Why didn’t you say anything? We were like, going to see you?”

”Now?” You managed. Had you really not mentioned you were discharged? “It… slipped my mind, I guess,” you mumbled, looking at the wood panel floor.

Dipper raised his brow, and was doing a bad job hiding his concern. Mabel, too.

“Well, I’m here now, so…” you said, trying to recover from the silence. The state of your head and the after effects of the concussion were a matter for later. You gestured at them in the door, “are you gonna let me in?”

They did not let you in. In fact, they blocked you even more. Dipper and Mabel, breaking from their stunned silence, stepped out to hug you. It probably shouldn’t have caught you off guard, but it did. It took you a moment for you to wrap your arms around them in turn. Wow. Both their hair ended up in your face, and it almost made you sneeze.

Your eyes stung, and for a moment you thought that hair or fuzz got in them, but no. Your visions grew blurry for a moment as tears threatened to spill. You guys all made it. You were all fine. All friends. You squeezed them, and pressed your eyes shut to try stop the waterworks. You wrapped one arm around Mabel, and one around Dipper, and couldn’t cracked their backs the way you pulled them in.

They didn’t need your grim death bed letters. They didn’t have any new scars from the possession. You were still here. The last few days had blurred together in the hospital. And your bedroom was just the way Bill left it. But the shack was yours. Theirs, too. More theirs than yours in the physical sense. But more than anything it felt safe, just for you.

You’d blinked back tears by the time you let go of your friends. You collected your letters without opening them to read again. Their contents were better left forgotten. But you didn’t throw them out.

The shack was safe. So was outside, you could go anywhere now. Dipper held your hand, and not in the sad way he did at the hospital. Mabel finished her gross werewolf book. And you had the strange feeling that you could, potentially, be okay now.

Hey fellas. Anyway this is like the epilogue to the angst arc me thinks. I’m not even like satisfied with this chapter but like. Posting. It’s whatever.

And man I’m glad the angst arc is done 😭😭 tell me why I decided to write a long ass angst arc and a death fakeout in my silly gravity falls x reader rom com. I have no idea what I’m cooking sometimes😭

Taglist: @dead-esque @cipheress-to-k-pop @phobo-ss

#x reader #my writing #douce amere #dipper pines #dipper pines x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #dipper x reader

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seat-safety-switch · 3 months ago

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How often have you been involved in cannon warfare? It's almost a cliché at this point. You and a couple of the guys from law school get a bit tooled up, steal a galleon from the dock, and set out for the open seas and a life of adventure. Trouble is, you forgot to let the Spanish navy know that you were just borrowing it. Now they're shooting four-inch chunks of red-hot steel at your dumb ass, and you suddenly remembered you don't know how to swim.

What do you do in this increasingly-common dilemma? The obvious thing to do is to fly the flag of surrender. Throw up a white sheet on the main mast and hope for leniency. Of course, this assumes that someone on board is both A) sober enough to climb, and B) brave enough to climb at the same time, which is a rare pairing of qualities in your flunky friend group. Plus, everyone knows chicks dig it when you fight back against the vicious whims of an unjust government that wants you to return their boat. Cowardice is right out.

Here's my pitch, instead. What you should have done before you pickled your liver this evening was buy Seat Safety Switch's Ship Stealing Sinsurance. For just a mere five doubloons a night (assuming you've been paying us for at least 40 nights of debauchery before any claim,) we'll negotiate with your local belligerent government for a ceasefire and a return to civility. Sure, you'll have to bring back the ship, but at least you'll do so mostly intact. And with your legal training, I'm sure you can talk your dumb ass out of the guillotine (or firing squad) afterward. No problem at all.

Are you not planning on stealing any ships? That's what they all say, but that's where the real beauty of our scheme – I mean financial instrument – comes in. If the ship you're on is stolen by pirates, then you can also claim any damages to your person and goods! Don't even think of claiming against those menacing kraken attacks, though. Squid is not covered by our basic or professional policies.

So sign up today, and take the future into your own hands, as long as you read your entire policy first. You really don't want to be trying to wage war at sea against the Dutch and find out that you only covered the longboats because you're trying to save a few bucks.

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lovesicklovermia · 5 months ago

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𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙡𝙮𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙨

﹒﹒ ﹒summary - from a forgotten memory, to a memory never forgotten.

﹒﹒ ﹒set in - season 3, season 7

﹒﹒ ﹒pairing - daryl dixon x reader

﹒﹒ ﹒ content inclusions - pre relationship!! angst!! feelings!! fluff!! terrible singing!! baby jude!!

‘i live to entertain!’ had been the joyous words that had escaped your lips, back in the prison, many months ago. judith was terribly upset, and solace was yet to be found by the young girl, who, for once, didn’t even seem entertained by the plastic red cups that beth usually placed on the floor for her.

no, today judith was angry, and sought seething revenge on every individual in the prison, by making it practically impossible for anyone to sleep at this late hour. even rick was trying to get a decent nights rest, so it was obvious to tell the seriousness of the situation.

you, like many other nights, had not snuck into thin covers. instead, you’d wandered the open space of the prison cell, the cramped space all too claustrophobic for such a wearisome night. the screams grew louder and louder, and as carl shushed his sister gently, almost embarrassed by her wails, you figured you may as well help.

so, here you were.

you’d placed judith in her carrier, a baby car seat that now sat on a table in the general prison area. you’d tried with all your might to send the poor girl to sleep, various soft yet likely damaging songs practically infiltrating the poor babies ears, then a bottle - which she’d refused with a sharp scream.

so, how else could you settle the girl? she wasn’t hungry, clearly wasn’t tired. perhaps she was simply bored.

so, hence goes your previous words.

you had no stereo, nor any instruments, nor an ipod to play music from - so you went acapella.

first, choices were too difficult. you hadn’t a wide range of knowledge on babys favourite songs - ‘the wheels on the bus’ felt like a smack in the face, for the only baby going ‘waaa waaa waaa’ was judith herself. ‘if you’re happy and you know it’ was bound to make too much noise - you could get awfully vicious when clapping your hands and stomping your feet. ‘row your boat’ seemed too terrifying for a girl growing up surrounded by walkers already, and ‘defying gravity’ (the only potentially family friendly song you could recall) seemed all too operatic for this late night.

so, you’d sang the most god-awful, annoying song you’d ever heard.

‘we’re on easy street!’ you’d started, far louder than you’d hoped for. by now, the whole prison was awake and utterly miserable, and you could practically hear multiple people scoffing from their cells. judith hadn’t so much as cracked anything other than a pouting frown, so you’d continued, the godawful pitchiness you were subjecting to this poor baby causing you to cringe. it didn’t ’feel so sweet’, unlike your lyrics. it felt like torture.

a clank of a cell door opening, but you'd hardly paused in your singing. you valued everyone’s sleep far more than your dignity, no matter how much of an idiot you currently looked. you posed in front of the girl as you continued your pitiful singing, reaching your hands out to the small girl, before you gently took her out from her carrier. judith looked more so traumatised than pleased.

yet, as if she was hoping that by this action it meant you’d stop, a small chuckle escaped her lips.

‘there we go! you really do like easy street, huh?’ you fooled yourself, then reaching out to tickle the small girls stomach. she’d, luckily, not eaten for a few hours, so there was far less of a chance that she’d barf, as you began to softly spin her around, a simple dance to make her laugh, rather than howl.

‘on easy street and it feels so sweet, doesn’t it?’ you cooed, humming the lyrics, before practically half-tripping over your feet as you bumped into a far taller, and, shockingly, laughing man.

‘hell, i dunno what ya’ done to asskicker, but i think she’s gonna laugh ‘erself dizzy.’ came the drawl of the archer you shared a cell with, not that he ever actually went in his cell, of course. you couldn’t help your embarrassed pursed lips at his rare yet obvious chuckles.

‘no, i think, maybe, she’s enjoying herself.’ you’d mumbled in reply, propping the girl up on your hip, who proceeded to drool onto your shoulder.

‘ya’ can carry on.’ the man shrugged, leaning back on the chair, before holding his hands out to take the baby, a rattle in his hand. where had he gotten the rattle from? perhaps he’d been saving it for a night like this. unfortunately, you’d gone and publicly humiliated yourself before he could even whip the toy out from his backpack of nightmares.

‘i really don’t think so.’ you'd cooed in response, watching as he scoffed humorously at your obvious sarcasm. yet, judith had reached her small arms out, so you’d passed the girl over, before kneeling in front of the pair, and running your thumbs over the girls cheeks, blotchy from screaming and howling. she was sniffling, perhaps a cold at bay, yet as the poor girl whacked you over the head with her new favourite object, you couldn’t help smile.

‘think she hates ya’ singing.’ the archer teased, yet as the baby giggled and pulled gently at your hair, you couldn’t help but disagree, and his words only retracted his previous statement - somewhat, anyway. ‘but i think she loves ya’.’

the simple words of ‘love’ uttered from his lips practically had you melting like a snowman, yet you managed to only grin in response, tapping at his knee once before you stood up. ‘shut ya’ damn mouth.’

the two of you looked at one another for a moment, tiny awkward glances spared and embarrassed, tight-lipped smiles given.

‘what is this, the redneck olympics?’ glenn had teased, clearly elicited from your previous words, and, well, everything about daryl.

and just like that, the moment had been gone.

daryl had presumed he’d forgotten about it. it was around twenty seconds in total, the entire feeling of you, him, and a baby in his arms, and the hope that one day you’d see him as someone that you had no need to be embarrassed around.

and as the recorded sounds of easy street began once more, for the uncountable time, he couldn’t help but regret never speaking three words. or, maybe even four. maybe if he escaped, or got released, or maybe if you and your godawful singing knocked down cell walls.

those four words, being - ‘this ain’t ya’ song?’

hey, how was he supposed to know? the song was so pitifully awful, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

#twd #the walking dead #thewalkingdead #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #twd oneshot #oneshot #angst #fluff #feelings #daryl dixon #judith grimes #twd fanfiction

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hinataoc · 1 month ago

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I'm so excited to have the chance to share my piece for the @twosidesfanzine !! Leftover sales are going on right now and I highly recommend checking it out is you are a SoKai, RokuNami, or even a cookbook fan!

https://twosideszine.bigcartel.com/

I had the honor of working alongside @amyhayanora ❤️ She did the illustrations and I did the writing. Collaborations with her are always a joy and this project was no different.

This piece is a Duality, which means it showcases both SoKai and RokuNami in it as they travel to Potorosso (Luca)!

Aggiungi un Posto a Tavola

Add Another Seat at the Table

-------------------------------------------

The hatch of the Gummi Ship hissed open. Salty sweet air rushed into the cockpit, igniting Kairi’s senses. She undid her buckle and peeked her head out while the others took in the damage around the ship. Perhaps she should have been more concerned about the fact that they’d just crashed on an unknown world, but the fact that it was a new world took over her curiosity.

Shimmering ocean surrounded them on all sides. Sea spray cooled her cheeks as waves lapped against the sides of the scuffed ship. Green mountains towered in the distance, and at their base lay what appeared to be a village.

“Wow,” she whispered under her breath.

“Yeah,” Sora added, coming up and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Reminds me a bit of the islands.”

Kairi leaned into him with a hum, welcoming the warmth that filled her chest. “Me too.”

Roxas let out a harsh breath behind them. “Ship now, sightsee later, guys!”

Naminé giggled as Kairi and Sora separated with sheepish laughs. “I am looking forward to seeing the world, too,” Naminé admitted, looking around at the disarray in the cockpit. “Despite the circumstances.”

Roxas plopped back into his seat, defeated. “Circumstances being the ship’s completely out of fuel and we have no idea where we are?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sora pointed out with a shrug.

“Sora…that’s not the point,” Roxas groaned, putting his hand over his face.

Naminé gently ran her hand along Roxas’ shoulder. “It’s alright. Let’s get the ship to shore and find a place to stay for tonight. We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

Roxas peeked between his fingers, a soft smile tipping the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Since that’s settled,” —Sora laced his fingers behind his neck and looked out over the ocean— “where are we exactly?”

As if in reply, a whirring engine of a boat cut through their discussion. They looked amongst each other before all of them rushed to the opened hatch and saw an approaching boat. It was small in size, wooden and worn down from obvious years of use. Inside sat a large, imposing man. A bushy mustache covered half of his face, making his expression difficult to read.

Roxas cleared his throat and pushed Sora forward, appointing him to talk first. Despite being literally pushed into it, Sora excitedly climbed out of the cockpit and balanced on the Gummi Ship’s wing.

“Hey there!” he greeted. “I’m Sora, this is—”

“What manner of ship is this?” the man asked in a burly voice.

“I told you, Massimo,” a young boy’s voice caught everyone’s attention. They looked over, and a boy’s head peeked out of the water. Blue and purple scales covered him, sparkling under the light of the sunset. “I watched them fall out of the sky.” He leaned back against the ship and crossed his scaly arms. “Luca learned about it at school. Anything from space—gotta be aliens.”

Massimo looked between the boy and the ship, his brow gradually raising.

“Trust me,” the boy assured him. He dove back into the water and leapt onto the boat. The group gasped as he shook the water off and his scales instantly transformed into skin. He appeared no different from any of them. “Just wait till I write Luca about them. He’ll totally agree.”

“I am not so sure, Alberto,” Massimo murmured.

“Yeeah.” Sora rubbed the back of his hair, awkwardly moving on, “Well, um—I’m Sora, and this is Kairi, Naminé, and Roxas!”

“Would you be able to help us ashore?” Naminé asked, stepping in.

“Uh-yeah, of course,” Alberto instantly agreed. “As Potorosso’s best and only lifeguard, I’m basically an expert at saving lives.”

Massimo huffed out a breath, but didn’t say anything as he unraveled a net from the fishing pulley. Alberto grabbed the fishing net and dove into the water. The group watched him with awe as the scales returned the moment the ocean met his skin. He darted around the ship and captured it in the net before coming back up on the other side of the boat and handing Massimo the rope.

Still in the water, Alberto leaned up against the boat and said, “You guys should totally stay with me and Massimo when we get to town. He’s always making too much food.”

“We wouldn’t want to overstep,” Kairi assured Massimo, unsure about his lack of reaction.

“We’ll find an inn, so don’t worry about it,” Roxas added.

“Yeah, I’m sure we can—WOAH!” Sora’s arms waved wildly around when a wave hit the back of the ship and rocked him off balance. Kairi reached out for him, but it was too late as he face planted into the sea.

Alberto jumped into action to help Sora up to the surface while Massimo let out a long-winded breath.

----------------------------

Sora hummed happily, pulling the sides of the thick blanket further around his shoulders. A towel blocked his sight, but he soaked in everything around him. Savory scents wafted from the kitchen as Massimo cooked what Alberto described as the most incredible and life-altering pasta dish they would ever taste. Mews of cats carried over the breeze coming in from the open window, along with Naminé’s soft voice cooing at them while Roxas chuckled and whispered sweet things that he likely didn’t realize the others could hear. All of that was overshadowed, however, by the gentle massage of Kairi’s hands while she dried Sora’s hair.

“Better?” Kairi asked, moving the fluffy towel so she could see his face. He beamed up at her, making her giggle.

“Much better,” he replied, nuzzling into the towel as she continued to dry his hair.

“I can’t decide who’s more like a cat,” Roxas commented. “Sora, or this actual cat.”

Everyone laughed, including Sora. He lifted a part of the towel out of his face to see them. The biggest cat he had ever seen lay over Roxas’ lap, purring loudly and rubbing against his hand while fluffy kittens climbed over Naminé.

Sora snickered at the sight. “I want a turn with the cat next.”

“Only once you’re all dry,” Kairi said in a teasing tone.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Sora resigned himself to Kairi’s words with a sigh before abruptly grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his blanket. She squealed but quickly settled in beside him, pulling the blanket over her shoulder and cozying up. “We’ll just have to snuggle in the meantime.”

Kairi giggled. “I’ll happily accept that.”

“What a pair of saps,” Roxas jested, chuckling when Kairi stuck her tongue out at him.

“I think it’s sweet,” Naminé replied. She carefully picked up a kitten and giggled when it licked the tip of her nose. “Don’t you?”

The tips of Roxas’ ears warmed. His smile grew in a goofy, love struck sort of way. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted.

“Who’s the sap now?” Sora asked.

“Hey, I can have my moments,” Roxas countered.

Kairi snickered, and that pulled the rest of them into laughing together. A knock on the doorway cut through their amusement, and they looked up to see Massimo. He remained still until the room went silent, then motioned his head towards the kitchen and turned to leave. The four teens looked at each other before following after him.

A savory bouquet of scents welcomed them to dinner as they passed through the doorway. Old iron pots covered the stovetop, steam billowing over the tops and making it impossible to see what delicious food sat waiting inside. Sora closed his eyes and inhaled, sighing in appreciation before abruptly bumping into a chair.

“Ah yeah, you might want to watch where you’re goin,” Alberto told them, walking around the table surrounded by mismatched chairs to set out drinking glasses. “Usually it’s just me and Massimo eating in here.”

“Thank you for making the space for us,” Naminé replied. “I hope it wasn’t much trouble.”

“Psh, please, Massimo loves having company.” Alberto waved dismissively.

Massimo harrumphed in response while he filled dishes with dinner. The group chuckled nervously and quickly found their seats. While Alberto helped with the finishing touches, Sora looked around the kitchen. Copper pans hung from the wall, along with bunches of garlic and dried herbs. An antique radio on a corner cabinet played classical music, the notes warbling through the speaker. Sora grabbed Kairi’s hand and pointed it out to her, along with other various unique decorations that caught his eye.

“It is my pleasure to present”—Alberto stopped at their table with two bowls of steaming pasta along each arm—”trofie al pesto!”

The group oohed and ahhed as the bowls were placed in front of each of them. Plump curls of pasta filled their dishes, along with cubes of potatoes and green beans, all of it coated with vibrant pesto.

“This smells amazing,” Roxas said with a growing grin, picking up his fork.

“It tastes amazing!” Sora enthusiastically agreed with a muffled voice, his mouth already full.

Roxas let out an exasperated breath but smiled all the same as he took a bite for himself. His eyes widened as he chewed. “This really is good.”

“Yeah, Massimo’s the best cook in Potorosso,” Alberto bragged, wiping under his nose. “He’s teaching me everything he knows. I even put the basil leaf on this time.”

With a chuckle, Kairi picked up the loose basil leaf on top of her dish and waved it at him. “Very elegantly done.”

Alberto grinned, then scrambled to his seat when Massimo cleared his throat. Rather than pick up a fork, he grabbed a handful of pasta in his hand and scooped it into his mouth. Massimo continued to eat his food, paying no mind to Alberto, but the rest of the group stopped and stared.

“Huh.” Sora looked at his food and put down the fork.

“Don’t,” Roxas warned.

“Don’t what?” Alberto asked, his mouth full.

“Nothing.” Naminé smiled sweetly, and Sora took the opportunity to shovel pasta into his mouth via his hand.

“Come on,” Roxas groaned under his breath, his hand covering his face.

“It’s even better this way,” Sora insisted, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

“Right?” Alberto replied. “I tried it both ways and hand eating is definitely the way to go.”

“Now I’m curious.” Naminé looked between her fork and Sora.

“Not you too!” Roxas cried out, making them erupt into laughter.

Even Massimo cracked a smile.

------------------------------

Fireflies danced under the moonlight, lighting the way as Alberto led Sora, Kairi, Roxas, and Naminé outside to their beds for the night. Bunches of blankets and pillows towered over their heads as they followed, stopping in front of a tree with a treehouse built in the center of its branches.

“And here we are.” Alberto held his arms out wide. “My secret spot!”

“We can make room inside if you would prefer.” Massimo placed his hand on Alberto’s shoulder.

“We don’t mind,” Naminé assured them.

“Yeah, we’re used to sleeping outside.” Sora readjusted the blankets in his arms. “Thanks for sharing your secret spot with us, Alberto. It’s great!”

“I added a bit to it since Giulia was here, so it’s pretty much perfect.” Alberto grinned.

“We’ll let you get some sleep.” Massimo ushered Alberto away with him.

“Thank you again for everything,” Kairi said. “We really appreciate it.”

Massimo simply nodded while Alberto waved enthusiastically and called, “See you in the morning!”

The group waited until Massimo and Alberto were gone inside the house before they made their way up the tree. With their magic, it didn’t take long to get everything up into the treehouse and situated enough to be comfortable. A string of white lights weaved between the branches and flickered to life once Naminé found a switch. Blankets and pillows covered the wooden planks, pressed up against the short walls along the sides. It was a tight fit, but the four of them managed to lay down side by side. Without a roof on the fort, they were able to gaze up at the multitude of stars shimmering above them.

“What a day,” Roxas whispered. He smiled as Naminé’s hand wound around his.

“A wonderful day,” Naminé added. “Unexpected, but I’m happy it happened the way it did.”

“We should get that pesto recipe for Little Chef tomorrow,” Sora said with a yawn.

“I would also like to explore the town tomorrow,” Naminé said. “There were so many unique trinkets inside Massimo’s home, I’d love to buy some from the shops here.”

“Oh me too!” Kairi propped up on her elbow. “Sora pointed out the old radio to me.”

“Wasn’t it beautiful?” Naminé asked, also sitting up.

“I guess that leaves me repairing the ship?” Roxas asked, chuckling when Naminé looked at him with apologetic eyes. “I’m teasing. We could use some downtime. Exploring the town sounds great.”

“I’m glad we crashed here,” Sora said, then he heard Roxas scoff. “What?”

“I am too,” Kairi agreed, kissing Sora’s cheek before she laid down. “It’s a beautiful place and I’m glad we’re here together.”

All of them hummed in their own form of agreement. Their whispers continued to fill the night air until one by one, they fell asleep beneath the stars.

#kingdom hearts #sokai #rokunami #Hina-writes

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violetmuses · 3 months ago

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Honor - M. Lowrey ❤️‍🩹

Title: Honor - M. Lowrey ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Mike Lowrey

Main Storyline: Detectives Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett discover the most unexpected “gift” out of nowhere. @adoresmiles 🏷

Honor - Part II ❤️‍🩹

=====

1996

“Come over.” Detective Mike Lowrey stepped out of the Miami Police Department with his partner and best friend Marcus Burnett. “I'll have food and everything. It's been a while since we hung out together.”

“That's cool. Your penthouse? I don't wanna make noise if we start watching this football game at home. Theresa will kick my ass!” Noting his wife Theresa, Marcus chuckled over the household.

“Got it. See you later.” Mike tossed car keys of his midnight Porsche and rolled out, blasting music through Florida sunshine.

______

“Hey, what's wrong? You looked creeped out, man.” Mike stood from the couch when Marcus showed up. This television channel echoed around.

“There's a baby perched in the hallway.” Marcus whispered. “I pulled up to see you and this random woman held one buckled car seat.”

“What the hell?” Mike shoved Marcus out of his way and rushed out, facing that shadowed corridor.

Right away, Mike and Marcus glanced over to see an adorable baby boy crying on the floor.

“Told you! Now bring him in, Mike. I'll help unfasten the carseat.” Marcus turned his “parent mode” in action.

“Okay.” Closing that front door behind him, Mike whispered as this baby kept shrieking.

No chilling after all.

=====

2003

“$21,000 dollars in damage? What? Oh, kiss my Black ass! It was the dashboard. We'll cover that reimbursement because somebody's on the way with your money.”

Following one large fail with ecstasy pills, Detective Mike Lowrey grilled this caller while answering his cell phone at the Miami Police Department. Partner Marcus Burnett looked on, silent.

“There's vehicular wreckage, and you sank someone's boat?” Captain Conrad Howard ranted through questions.

While Burnett and Lowrey took Captain's anger, Mike's cell phone rang once more.

“Hello?” Mike narrowed both eyes during this second phone call.

“Detective Lowrey? Apologies for disrupting your day, but it's almost 3:00 PM.” A secretary for one of the elementary schools called this time.

“My goodness! Thank you so much for calling. I'll be there to pick him up right away.” Ignoring the case, Mike grinned with joy.

Closing that flip phone, Mike glanced toward Marcus and smiled even brighter.

"Look, I'll pull strings with the case. Go pick up your son, Mike.” Whispering, Captain Howard settled emotions, dismissing Lowrey and Burnett from his office.

______

“Armando's in third grade now? I can't believe it, Mike!” Marcus nearly sniffled in the passenger seat.

“Please don't cry again.” Mike pointed to his best friend before exiting the car.

“Papa!” Eight year old Armando Aretas cheers to greet Mike up close.

“Hey, man! Sorry I'm late. Work was crazy.” Mike holds hands with Armando while moving back to the car.

“Dónde está Tío?” Still using his native language of Spanish, young Armando looked for “Uncle” Marcus Burnett.

“Right there.” Mike gestured near the passenger seat after safely buckling Armando.

“What's up, man!” Wearing this football jersey, Marcus glanced over one shoulder with the biggest smile on his face.

Armando's genuinely kind laughter echoed through sunlight as Mike Lowrey returned home.

=====

2020

Almost twenty-five years later, international deployments outright shifted the personality of Armando Aretas.

Laughter stopped reaching his heart and smiles faded away.

“You good?” Mike offered the question more often than not these days.

“Tired.” Armando clipped through slightly accented English and still helped clean up the kitchen tonight.

“That's all right, man. Night.” Mike excused himself from Armando's personal space while his son focused on chores.

_____

Just before Armando would turn out the main lights and go to sleep, knocking reached that front door out of nowhere.

“Yes?” Armando pulled himself together when two strangers arrived here.

“Armando? We have news for you.” One of the professionals spoke up.

“I won't talk. You're not Miami PD.” Armando folded both arms right as Mike Lowrey returned downstairs.

“Can I help you?” Mike joined questions and faced both strangers, protective.

“We found out that…” One stranger tried to explain himself again, but two gunshots pierced the evening sky and killed each man.

“What the fuck? We've been ambushed, man. Go!” Mike signaled Armando to prepare himself with weapons.

Calling that police department for help now would've strangled the moment with red tape and put their lives at risk.

“Look out!” Armando shouted between lights of the waking neighborhood and scoped for Mike's presence just in case. There was no other choice.

“Don't worry, I'm right here. Keep moving and stay with me.” Mike noticed Armando after running down the sidewalk.

“Kay.” Both men nodded toward each other, quietly prepared.

Just when gunshots echoed once more, smoke billowed uphill in the distance.

“Who set shit on fire?!” Mike looked forward while destruction unraveled.

Moments later, as she wore this bloodied prison uniform, Isabel Aretas emerged past the burning flames.

#dark themes #au fanfiction #fanfiction #mike lowrey #armando aretas #❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹#Isabel Aretas #movies #jacob scipio #will smith #bad boys #armando #my writing #violetmuses #💜💜💜#strong language #drug reference #drabble requests #requested!

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thisisallthehattersfault · 3 months ago

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It is seven thirty in the morning. An hour ago I bolted upright in bed possessed by the image of Klabautermann cultivating human forms like swords spirits in xianxia novels. In the process of me exploring that concept, I somehow got myself emotionally invested in the inherent homoeroticism of a seventy year old pirate and his goddamn boat

------------------------

“It was… hm. Maybe a year and a half after you’d been built. You got that big ass hole in your hull.” Newgate swirls the sake in his cup as he reminisces, watching sunlight catch off the liquid. “We managed to get you patched, but before we could get to the next island all those damn storms hit, one right after the other

Moby inclines their head. “I recall.” Their hand drifts to their side in the gesture of someone touching an old scar.

And isn’t that interesting? “I kept thinking we aren’t gonna make it. We shouldn’t have made it. There were so many times on that journey that by all rights we should have sunk, but you… you got us there.”

Again, an incline of the head. There’s something majestic about the Moby, even in this mostly-humanoid form. Something about the way they move, the way they carry themself. Like water made flesh, all smooth and fluid motion. When they turn to him, water droplets slip off the ends of their trailing braids to hang suspended in the air. They swirl around Moby like the silks of a lady’s dress.

“Your stubbornness had already covered me like a varnish,” they laugh, and it strikes Newgate that his ship is teasing him. “I was not made in the image of one who easily accepts failure.”

Moby’s solid-colored eyes are deep, deep blue, the color of water just at the edge of the depth where sunlight reaches. There’s an eerie liquid sort of quality to them. Here on deck, the light swirls through them much like it does the sake in his cup.

Newgate finds himself shifting in his seat. He clears his throat. “Were you — aware, even back then?”

“I was,” Moby says, in that almost-singing way of theirs. “My thoughts were… simple. Crude, but they existed.”

Newgate makes a thoughtful noise. “What was that like, for you?”

Now it’s Moby’s turn to consider the sake in their glass, while Newgate considers their profile. They’re nearly translucent, but only barely. The way light moves through them makes them look like they’re glowing from the inside. “I knew I was damaged,” They say, after a moment. “I knew I could die. I knew I didn’t want to.” They take a sip from their cup, and their throat moves as they drink. A thumb swipes away a droplet of sake clinging to the corner of their mouth. That droplet rolls off them again, joins the water dancing in the air. “I remember thinking — I cannot sink. I will not sink. I was made to carry them.”

Here, they turn again to face Newgate, smiling. Their face is as deeply-lined as his own, but they’re lines that speak of the right kind of aging. Crows feet and laugh lines that crinkle when they smile at him. They look like they’ve smiled often, his Moby. They look like they’ve been smiling for decades. “Of course I got you there, old friend,” they say warmly. “Our children were on board.”

#One Piece #Whitebeard #Edward Newgate #Whitebeard Pirates #Moby Dick #should I tag that? Will that confuse people?#klabautermann #sorry for any fans of the MD book who are now looking at. Boat romance?

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bronzefuryfic · 1 year ago

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Bronze Fury

When the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce is brought to King's Landing to meet with the rest of her family, she finds herself caught in a crisis of succession. The Greens battle for her support... and her affections.

Chapter Two: To King’s Landing / Previous Chapter / Directory

After suffering a great loss, Rhae is summoned to King’s Landing to meet her estranged Targaryen family members. Far from home and alone in the dragon’s den, it is up to her to determine friend from foe.

It was a full month of bedrest and recovery before the Maesters would allow Rhae to make the journey to King's Landing.

"The skin is still healing, Lady Rhae. The risk of infection is still at its height!" Maester Willem chided her one afternoon, as she picked impatiently at her bandages. "Travelling by boat is dirty and cramped. You won't receive the same care as in a castle." Maester Willem whacked her fingers with the wooden spoon he was using to brew one of his remedies. "Which means it must stay clean!"

"I'll be fine, Maester Willem," Rhae scowled. She'd have loved to fly to King's Landing by dragon-back, but fate had other plans in store for the young heir.

Unable to use her bandaged hand to rub her now-aching knuckles, she began kicking her feet restlessly underneath the covers. Rhae had never been confined to her bed this long before. She longed for her bow and wondered miserably if she'd still be able to aim it properly.

She was still missing a lot of skin on her left hand and forearm. From what glimpses she caught between wrappings, the flesh was still raw and waxy looking. All the blisters had popped by now, and a hard crust of new skin had scabbed over most sections.

The farther up the arm you travelled, the more severe the burn grew. She could hardly move her shoulder, which was still charred down through her bicep. They had started peeling off the damaged skin, an excruciatingly painful process, so that a new layer could grow back. The only time she slept soundly was the rare instance she'd accept the milk of the poppy.

On most nights, Rhae lay awake into the early hours of the morning, hot tears spilling down her face onto the pillow, feeling feverish as her arm itched. It was what she deserved for her failure outside Gulltown—Ser Gerold's burns had been far worse.

"How goes Ser Jon's preparations?"

Ser Jon was Rhae's elder cousin—a man of four and twenty that had thus far resisted his House's council to wed. Rhae knew it was likely he never would—Ser Jon had taken a fancy to his squire.

"He is learning quickly," Maester Willem said. A slight twitch of his eye hinted to his deeper dissatisfaction. Rhae knew the Maester disapproved of Jon's personal ventures. "He lacks the same vigor as your late uncle, but his decision-making has been... satisfactory."

Rhae rolled her eyes.

"Would you have me push for one of Lady Mysa's boys?" She demanded. Her great aunt had not yet accepted Rhae's decision, having petitioned for her eldest to hold Runestone's seat in Rhae's absence instead. Lady Mysa visited her niece nine times since her injury, each time with honeyed words and exaggerated loyalty. Rhae's patience with her aunt was growing thin—Mysa made similar proposals against Rhae's claim as a child. She doubted her great aunt would willingly relinquish any acquisitions upon Rhae's return.

"Of course not, my lady," the Maester bowed.

"Good," Rhae narrowed her eyes at him. "I expect you to support Ser Jon as you supported Ser Gerold, and as you are dutifully bound to support me."

In the meantime, Rhae continued her correspondence with the Queen. She was thankful, if for nothing else, that her dominant arm remained uninjured. Writing was one of the few tasks the Maesters allowed her to perform unsupervised.

All the letters more or less said the same—the Queen was sorry to hear of her encounter with Sheepstealer, but insisted she must not despair. Rhae's anxieties eased slightly when she learned that the Queen's son Aemond had not claimed a dragon yet, either.

Furthermore, she wrote, preparations were being made to recieve Rhae at King's Landing. Their Maesters were more than capable of continuing treatment for her injury, and lessons were already being prepared to catch her up on the history and language of Old Valyria.

"She makes little mention of the King and Princess Rhaenyra," Rhae confided to Ser Jon the evening before her departure.

In the last week, the Maesters had allowed Rhae to walk the castle at her leisure. An exercise of strength, and though Maester Willem refused to admit it, trust. Her arm itched terribly, as it did most days, but she made sure not to loosen her wrappings. She would not give them reason to delay her departure.

"Aden says the Queen and the Princess are not on the best of terms," Ser Jon said. Aden was the squire Jon had taken a fancy to—Jon had told Rhae once before that when Aden was just a page, he'd served under a knight in King's Landing. "If you're to believe court gossip, passed to a knight, then passed to his page. Though, I suppose you'll learn the truth of the matter first-hand before long."

"The Maester had heard similar rumors," Rhae felt a scratch in her throat, then continued. "And Ser Gerold used to tell me the Hightowers were the only house in all of Westeros brave enough to defy the Targaryens."

Jon looked away politely, allowing Rhae a moment to dry her eyes. She cursed herself internally—she could not allow such weakness once in King's Landing.

But her heart still ached for her uncle. For as much as she begrudged Ser Gerold's rants of revenge, she never thought she'd miss hearing them.

"I'd nearly departed the dinner early, if only to keep myself from cutting down Daemon where he sat." Ser Gerold had used to say, face always flushed with anger by this point in his story. "It wasn't easy, listening to the King bless one marriage while his butcher brother sat beside him, having murdered his own wife days prior... but before Viserys could finish his toast, Queen Alicent entered the hall in a gown of green... marvelous courage in the depths of the dragon's den... I knew then we were not alone in our fight."

Rhae couldn't help but feel she was being recruited for plans much larger than her own. She'd hoped to claim a dragon to protect Runestone, but what if the fight Ser Gerold referred to was grander? She wished she could ask him.

"You will write and tell me the truth of what you observe in King's Landing, won't you?" Jon asked, turning back to her. "So that we may know rumor from fact?"

"What other threads am I meant to be pulling?"

Jon frowned. When he spoke, he seemed to choose his words carefully:

"Prince Daemon murdering your mother is not the only crime the royal family denies, cousin." He tugged nervously at his sleeve. "According to some."

"The lords and ladies?"

"And the knights. And their pages," Jon said. " And the servants and the craftsmen and the stable hands. None speak it, but all know it."

"What won't they speak?"

"Treason."

"But you won't tell me what this treason supposedly is?" Rhae peered up at him. "That everybody knows about but me? Supposedly?"

"Not everyone, no even I! You're not understanding," Jon grabbed Rhae by the shoulders, causing her to wince in pain. He brought his voice to a hush. "These matters require subtly, cousin. To question the succession of the royal line could mean death to you, me, and all of our House!"

Rhae squirmed under his grip, left shoulder searing in pain. She felt nauseous, but one word still struck her.

The succession of the crown? Ser Gerold had always considered the matter handled. House Royce did not concern itself over the gender of their heirs, even if other noble families took issue.

"Let go of me," Rhae said, her voice strained. Jon leapt back, realizing at last the hurt he was causing.

"Apologies, cousin..." Jon scratched the back of his head, avoiding her gaze. "But you should understand better than anyone that the royal family has little regard for what is right and what is wrong. We must not provoke them unnecessarily."

"Yet you want me to dig for secrets to send to you in a letter with my name on it?" Rhae whispered furiously.

"Only what catches your eye," Jon said. "To my understanding, you won't need much more than that. I trust you to be clever enough to let me know without incriminating yourself."

Rhae fumed, but the look on Jon's face told her that the conversation was over.

Rhae was relieved when she finally left for King's Landing. Jon had attempted to speak with Rhae once more in her room, but she had not been in a good temper during her final hours at Runestone.

"House Royce remembers our oaths to you, Lady Rhae," were his parting words, given instead under the watchful eye of the rest of their House. "And we eagerly await your return. May it be by dragon-back!"

Lady Mysa stuck her nose in the air—Rhae had refused to see her alone, either. As she looked upon the other faces of her house, more than usual seemed to avoid her gaze.

Rhae's face flushed as she boarded the boat. It was her own decision to leave Runestone, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being exiled.

The journey lasted five miserable days. Rhae was glad she was not prone to seasickness—the Maester was right, the trip atop of her injury was very draining.

"Lady Rhae, we're approaching the dock," the Captain told her at last. The ship's healer was just finishing her latest dressing of bandages, and Rhae ushered for him to finish faster.

Runestones seamstresses had prepared her a black gown for her arrival. They made the sleeves with lace, which allowed for a delicate covering of her bandages without being overwhelmingly warm. The bodice contained several cuts that accented her waist, looking like twin claw marks had raked her on each side. Another layer of lace was woven in the gaps, so intricately stitched red and orange flames peeked out. Finally, the otherwise plain black skirt split at her naval, allowing the layer underneath to shine through. They made the secondary skirt of silk. It too contained orange hues, though much tawnier than the lace stitching at her waist. Once above deck, Rhae realized it looked a lot like bronze.

Rhae gazed down towards the dock as the men worked to anchor the ship. Beneath, a welcoming party awaited her. She tried her best to maintain a neutral expression, but it felt that her stomach was being clawed at from the inside.

The Queen was instantly recognizable, though Rhae had never seen her before. Alicent had a white cloak standing behind her, a sullen-looking Dornish man, and wore a marvelous emerald green gown. No one else matched her elegance.

To her right, Rhae assumed, were her children. This assumption was even easier—their hair was silver, just like hers. She tried not to stare, but the sight of the Red Keep was admittedly far less interesting to her.

"Welcome, Lady Rhae," said Queen Alicent as she descended towards them. "I hope your journey was a good one."

Rhae stooped into a curtsey, as her Septa had taught her to do. It was not as low as she would've liked, but she feared any lower and she might topple over.

"Your Grace, it's a pleasure to thank you in person for your invitation." Rhae said. "The Red Keep is even more marvelous than I'd imagined. It's no wonder my father preferred it here."

The Queen smiled kindly.

"With any luck, he'll prefer the Free Cities even more." She said. The guard behind Alicent smirked at this, and a sense of relief washed over Rhae. At least these two seemed no more fond of Daemon than she was.

Queen Alicent motioned to the children beside her—Two boys and one girl, as she'd described in her letters.

"This is Haelena," the Queen continued, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Haelena jolted, surprised by her introduction. Her hand flew upwards for a moment to wave her greetings before she dropped it just as quickly, unsure of her action. Her elder brother seemed to suppress a snicker. Alicent rushed the conversation forward, side-eying her son.

"And this is Aemond," she gestured next towards the boy closest to her, the younger of the two. At his introduction, Aemond bowed his head. Rhae thought his eyes seemed to linger on her injured arm.

The Queen had mentioned before that Aemond was also without a dragon. She wondered what he felt about her arrival and bowed her head in return.

There were no such questions about the eldest's brother's feelings, however. Rhae figured the last must be Aegon, who face had stretched open into an enormous yawn just as his mother had motioned to him for the final introduction. The Queen glared at her son, waiting for him to finish so that she could resume.

"And Aegon," she finished, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation. Rhae felt a yawn of her own tickle her nose, and her face gave an involuntary twitch to stifle it. This was as Aegon gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, looking amused. "My youngest, Daeron, is back in Oldtown at the moment..."

Rhae and Queen Alicent exchanged more pleasantries about her travels, a frivolous few extra moments for the sake of politeness that only Aemond seemed engaged with. Aegon watched some dockworkers argue, while Helaena had become preoccupied with a ladybug that had landed on her sleeve.

At last, the Queen announced it was time to board the carriages. Six guards led a path through the bustle of the yard to where the horses waited. As they walked, Rhae noticed that Aegon and Aemond fell behind. When she looked back at them, she saw they were whispering to each other. Her cheeks burned.

"I suppose it might be nice for you all to chat on the ride to the castle," the Queen said, giving a pointed look to Aegon. "I trust you'll be kind to our guest."

A moment ago, this is the scenario Rhae most anticipated. It now terrified her.

Realistically, Rhae knew she was in for nothing more than a twenty minutes of awkward socialization—she had never spent much time with her peers in the past. Her most frequent company was Ser Gerold, the Septa and Runestone's Maesters. But her whole body seemed to buzz with anticipation. She couldn't stop focusing on their three to her one.

The inside of the carriage was grand, but Rhae couldn't stop imagining the walls closing in. Helaena climbed up after Rhae, taking the seat beside her, still holding the ladybug. Helaena was followed by Aemond, who took the seat directly across, and finally Aegon, who took the remaining one diagonal to Rhae's position. When the carriage door closed, the four of them sat in stony silence until they heard the horses neighing and the carriage lurch forward.

"I like your dress," Helaena said, puncturing the quiet. She didn't look at Rhae when she said it—she was still studying the ladybug, now crawling in her lap. "It's very pretty."

"Thank you," Rhae said, not detecting any sarcasm in Helaena's tone, despite the apparent disinterest. The ladybug was walking along the pattern stitched into Helaena's dress, seemingly unaware it could stray away from its path. "That ladybug seems to like yours more."

Rhae wasn't so sure what she said made sense, but Helaena giggled at the observation.

"They're considered to be good luck," she said. Her voice was light and airy. "Perhaps it's a sign."

"Let's hope," Rhae replied. Another silence took the carriage as Helaena tried to coax the ladybug off her skirt and onto her finger.

"Which lessons do you look forward to most?" Aemond piped up. He had his hands clenched in his lap, though he didn't seem angry. Was it nerves?

"I'm not sure," Rhae admitted. "All of them, I suppose. I've always been curious about Old Valyrian history, but I suspect learning the language will be the most difficult."

"I'd be happy to help you practice," Aemond offered. Aegon snorted loudly, causing his brother's face to turn pink. He pressed on. "It's difficult at first, but you'll get the hang of it. Even Aegon's passed all his tests, and he sleeps through half the lessons."

Helaena giggled, and Rhae couldn't help but join in. Aemond looked pleased with himself, but tensed just as quickly as Aegon leaned forward in his seat.

"If you'd like a lesson actually worthy of your time, you'll have to come down to the Dragonpit." Aegon shared, watching Rhae's expression closely. Her chest tightened at its mention, and she subconsciously pulled her injured arm closer to her. "A private lesson, of course. We wouldn't want anyone else—"

"Aegon!"

"What?" Aegon threw his hands up in mock surrender. "It's not as though you've got a dragon to show off, have you, Aemond?"

Aemond's face flushed.

"Sunfyre isn't even large enough to saddle two riders yet," Aemond grumbled. "The Dragonkeepers said it'll be another year."

"Eight more months!" Aegon retorted.

"You could always ride with me and Dreamfyre," Helaena chimed in, as her brothers bickered. She reached for Rhae's hand right hand, which was closest to her. "If you wanted to, of course. Given your injury, that might still be scary, but Dreamfyre is a sweet girl."

Rhae froze at the mention of her injury, as did Aegon and Aemond. She knew instantly that must have been what they were whispering about back at the docks. In the tense silence that followed, Helaena passed the ladybug from the tip of her finger to Rhae's knuckle, unaware of the effect her statement had caused.

"That sounds like great fun," Rhae mustered, a familiar itch spreading beneath her bandages.

"They say wild dragons are harder to tame than those that've had a rider once before," Aemond said after a long moment. Rhae had hoped they might move the conversation elsewhere. "And they respond better to High Valyrian, which you probably didn't know yet."

"Silly me," she muttered. His words stung—she hadn't known that. Perhaps if she had, Sheepstealer wouldn't have attacked Ser Gerold and his men.

Aegon and Aemond exchanged a look. Both boys seemed to want to ask more, but it was clear this was not how either hoped the conversation would arise.

Rhae focused on the ladybug as it scurried between her fingers, no longer interested in speaking.

They finished the carriage ride in the same sullen silence they had started. When the door opened, Aegon was quick to hop off the carriage, followed a moment later by his sister. Rhae moved to follow, still carrying the bug, when Aemond stopped her.

"You'll claim a dragon," He said quietly, his cheeks still pink. Rhae managed a small smile.

"You as well," she said resolutely. "In the meantime, I would be grateful for someone to study with."

Aemond nodded, and they joined the others outside. Runestone was a large castle, but Rhae couldn't help but feel impressed by the Red Keep now that she was here. Her neck craned upwards at the towering turrets.

"Welcome home, Rhae," The Queen said, watching her take it in. "I hope the ride up was pleasant?"

Rhae cast a glance at the trio besides her, the ladybug tickling her wrist.

"It was very insightful," she said, reclaiming her composure. "I look forward to my stay."

Queen Alicent smiled, leading the way inside. The children followed suit—Aemond first, followed by Aegon.

Helaena attached herself to Rhae's good arm, smiling brightly. The ladybug had crawled to the nook of Rhae's elbow and passed back onto Helaena's sleeve.

"Come on!" She said, tugging slightly. "I'll show you to your room."

And with Helaena guiding her, Rhae followed the rest into the Red Keep.

Next Chapter: Ch. 3 - The Queen’s Quest

There is something amiss with Rhae’s invitation to the Red Keep. The King is yet to be seen, but Queen Alicent requests Runestone’s heir join her for a private meal. Will Rhae learn the purpose of her summons?

AO3 | Chapter Discussion

Thanks for reading!

#House of the Dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond x oc #aegon x oc #Aegon II Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen #Helaena Targaryen #team green

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custom-dolly · 3 months ago

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Meet Vanessa Hart!

She's a stylish business student with dreams of being a CEO of her own company. Her favorite color is grey (because of her eyes) and blue. She is allergic to cats and dogs, so she doesn't like either very much. She loves socializing and is really popular at her university, the NYU Stern School of Business. She is terrified of water + being on boats. She became a double amputee after a car accident when she was 10. She is also asexual + hetero-romantic!

More thoughts + materials under the cut 🌟

Not the most proud of this one, but she was in a pretty rough state when I started lmao. (No legs, damaged plastic, loosing hair, half off face, ugly ass bangs, horrifically proportioned ect.). It's mostly the face I'm unhappy with, but the entire thing feels a touch sloppy.

I used mostly scraps from jeans for the wheelchair and skirt, and a hoodie for the shirt and scarf. I couldn't find metal wire, so I used scraps I could find, but metal wire is probably the best choice. Hot glue is holding this entire thing together lmfao. I can't for the life of me find the name or brand of the doll, but it's some weird off brand barbie.

I'm pretty proud of the wheelchair though! I used cardstock for the back and seat, on those weird colourful parts.

For her skirt I just hot glued the top to her waist and threaded a wire through her "hips" then down the length of her skirt so that it could be positioned. I then glued down the pack of the skirt and stuffed it down to her knee height then covered the inside with glue. It gives the impression of a below the knee amputation pretty well, I think.

For the face I just painted it on with a brush and posca pens. I didn't seal it either, so I have to be careful with it.

All her clothes are hot glued on, so it was less sewing her an outfit and more like fucked up fabric paper mâché, where I glued on whatever worked.

#dolls #doll custom #doll customization #doll #FIRST POST WOOOOOOOOO #dollblr #art doll #wheelchair #disability #art #my dolls #Vanessa Hart #Vanessa

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copycatupholsteryflorida · 1 year ago

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A Step-by-Step Guide on How to Install Boat Seat Covers in the USA

Boating is a popular pastime in the United States, with millions of people taking to the water to enjoy the great outdoors. Keeping your boat in top shape is crucial for a safe and enjoyable experience, and one important aspect of boat maintenance is protecting your seats from the elements. Installing boat seat covers is an effective way to safeguard your investment and enhance the longevity of your boat's interior. In this article, we will guide you through the step-by-step process of installing boat seat covers in the USA.

Materials You'll Need

Before you begin the installation process, gather the following materials:

Boat seat covers: Choose high-quality, weather-resistant seat covers that fit the dimensions of your boat seats.

Screwdriver or drill: You may need this for removing and reattaching seat cushions.

Measuring tape: To ensure a proper fit, measure your boat seats accurately.

Fasteners: Depending on your seat cover's design, you might need fasteners like snaps, hooks, or straps.

Mild soap and water: For cleaning your boat seats before installation.

Step-by-Step Installation Guide

Prepare Your Boat Seats: Before installing seat covers, it's important to start with clean seats. Use mild soap and water to clean any dirt or residue on the seats. Allow them to dry thoroughly.

Measure Your Boat Seats: Use a measuring tape to determine the dimensions of your boat seats. This step is crucial to ensure the seat covers you purchase fit perfectly.

Unzip or Unfasten the Covers: If your seat covers have zippers or fasteners, open them up so they are ready to slip over the seats.

Position the Seat Covers: Carefully slide or drape the seat covers over the boat seats, ensuring they align with the seat's contours.

Fasten the Seat Covers: Depending on the design of your seat covers, secure them in place. This may involve snapping them onto the boat seat frame, using hooks or straps, or fastening them through grommets. Follow the manufacturer's instructions for the specific fastening mechanism.

Tighten and Adjust: Ensure that the seat covers are snug and properly aligned. Adjust them as needed to make sure they fit securely over the seats.

Secure Straps or Fasteners: If your seat covers have straps or fasteners, ensure they are tightly secured to prevent wind from getting under the covers.

Zip or Fasten the Covers Closed: If your seat covers have zippers or fasteners, close them to ensure a tight and secure fit.

Inspect for Proper Fit: Carefully inspect each seat cover to make sure it fits securely without any wrinkles or loose areas. Make any necessary adjustments.

Reattach Seat Cushions: If you removed seat cushions to install the covers, reattach them using a screwdriver or drill. Make sure they are fastened securely.

Test the Boat Seat Covers: Take your boat out for a test run to ensure the seat covers remain in place and do not flap in the wind or become loose during use.

Maintenance and Care

To keep your boat seat covers in excellent condition, it's important to perform regular maintenance. Here are some tips for maintaining your boat seat covers:

Clean your seat covers regularly with mild soap and water to remove dirt, salt, or other contaminants.

Check the fasteners and straps periodically to ensure they are in good condition and secure.

Inspect for any signs of wear and tear, and repair or replace seat covers as needed.

Store your boat with the seat covers on to protect them from the elements when the boat is not in use.

How to Install Boat Seat Covers in USA: Things to Consider

When installing boat seat covers in the USA, there are several important factors and considerations to keep in mind to ensure a successful installation and effective protection for your boat seats. Here are some key considerations:

Seat Cover Material: Select seat covers made from high-quality, weather-resistant materials designed to withstand the elements. Marine-grade vinyl, polyester, or canvas are popular choices due to their durability and resistance to UV rays, water, and mildew.

Seat Measurements: Accurate measurements of your boat seats are crucial. Ensure that the seat covers you purchase fit the specific dimensions and contours of your seats to provide the best protection.

Fastening Mechanism: Different seat covers use various fastening methods, such as snaps, hooks, straps, or elastic cords. Consider the ease of use and the effectiveness of the chosen fasteners to keep the covers securely in place.

Color and Style: While aesthetics may not be the top priority, it's still essential to choose seat covers that complement your boat's overall appearance. Some boat owners prefer covers that match the boat's color scheme.

Ventilation: Ensure that the seat covers allow for adequate ventilation. Proper airflow helps prevent the growth of mold and mildew, especially in humid or wet climates.

Storage: Consider where and how you will store the seat covers when not in use. Proper storage can extend the lifespan of the covers. Some covers come with storage bags or cases for convenience.

Cleaning and Maintenance: Understand the cleaning and maintenance requirements of your seat covers. Regular cleaning can prolong their life and maintain their appearance.

Compliance with Local Regulations: Be aware of any local or state regulations regarding the use of seat covers on boats, especially if they obstruct visibility or safety equipment.

Weather Conditions: The weather in different parts of the USA can vary greatly. Consider the local climate when selecting seat covers. For areas with harsh sun exposure, UV-resistant covers are essential. In regions with heavy rainfall, waterproof covers are crucial.

Removability: Consider whether you need to remove the seat covers frequently or if they can remain in place while the boat is stored or during transport. Some covers are designed for quick removal and reinstallation.

Type of Boat: Different types of boats may require different seat cover designs. For example, pontoon boats, speedboats, and fishing boats may have varying seat configurations that require specific cover types.

Budget: Seat covers come in a wide range of prices. Set a budget that balances quality and affordability. While it's tempting to go for the cheapest option, investing in higher-quality covers often pays off in terms of durability and protection.

User Reviews and Recommendations: Research seat cover options online, read user reviews, and seek recommendations from fellow boat owners. Hearing about the experiences of others can help you make an informed decision.

Professional Installation: If you are uncertain about the installation process or have a complex seating arrangement, consider hiring a professional to ensure the seat covers are installed correctly.

Warranty: Check if the seat covers come with a warranty. A warranty can provide peace of mind and indicate the manufacturer's confidence in their product's durability.

By taking these considerations into account, you can select and install boat seat covers in the USA that best meet your needs, protect your boat seats, and enhance your overall boating experience.

Conclusion

Installing boat seat covers in the USA is a practical way to protect your boat seats and extend their lifespan. Proper installation and regular maintenance are key to ensuring the covers remain effective in safeguarding your boat's interior. By following the steps outlined in this guide, you can enjoy a cleaner, more comfortable, and better-protected boating experience.

#boat seat covers for damaged seats #fitted boat seat covers #replacement boat seat skins #boat upholstery usa

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universitypenguin · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter XIV

Summary: Lloyd sets his sights on orchestrating Holbrook’s downfall and uses skills from his former life to serve up his own brand of justice. Meanwhile, Princess interviews a witness who casts doubt on key information in the case.

Masterlist

Word Count: 7,352

Warnings: Explicit discussion of murder and serial abductions. Mention of extortion, police corruption, drugs, and kidnapping. Spy/intelligence agency themes, general violence depiction of criminal behavior. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Chapter XIV

Lloyd scowled at the muddy road as he navigated around the section that had been washed out by last night’s thunderstorm. The damage to the ranch’s main road aggravated his simmering frustration. He would need to order a truckload of gravel first thing on Monday.

He’d left the house at dawn and spent the day running around like a chicken with its head cut off, searching for Elliot. As light faded into the western sky, he had nothing to show for the effort. Every potential hiding spot he’d searched turned up empty. He’d spent the morning checking abandoned hunting cabins and old flop houses he remembered druggies frequenting. After lunch he expanded his search radius to the forest service cabins up in the Sawtooth mountains, then hunting blinds, and remote campgrounds.

In the evening, he’d driven out to Redfish Lake, apprehension growing with each mile, and searched the boat shed. It was empty. The only residents he’d found were of the eight legged variety. After closing up the shed, he’d surveyed the lake’s perimeter, visiting the remote places with heavy foliage that could disguise the activity associated with disposing of a body. None of them appeared disturbed. Overall, the day had been a waste.

The weight of failure settled over him as his eyes lit on an unfamiliar sight ahead.

A strange pickup truck was parked in front of the ranch house. Lloyd’s gut tightened. He jerked the wheel and pulled off into the cover of a grove of trees. Holbrook wouldn’t drive the beat up ‘97 Ford parked in the yard if his life depended on it, but it would be just like him to send someone else to do his dirty work. Concealing his vehicle in the trees, Lloyd reached behind the seat for the PTR-91 rifle he’d stashed there and slung it over his shoulder. He secured it to his back and checked his ankle holster for Joe’s Sig Sauer. In the shoulder holster he wore a Glock17 - his weapon of choice in his previous life.

The weight rested comfortably in his palm as he snuck through the trees and across the lawn. He kept his finger wrapped around the trigger guard, and the weapon hidden behind his thigh, as he climbed the steps to the porch. Every creak of the wood under his boots felt magnified as he approached the door. He scanned the shadows along the edge of the porch, searching for signs of movement. The front door was unlocked, and the knob turned easily.

The scent of fresh coffee surprised him. Lloyd stepped inside, gun raised and took measured steps as he swept the living room. His guest hadn’t turned the lights on. He glanced around, seeking signs of the intruder, and spun to the kitchen. The brightness from the picture window stung his eyes, blurring his vision for a moment. When they refocused, his heart skipped a beat.

Elliot Hansen sat at the kitchen table. He was slouched over a mug of coffee, which if the dark rings under his eyes were anything to go by, he desperately needed.

“Lloyd. I’ve been waiting for you.”

The tension drained away. He lowered the gun and studied his cousin for a moment before turning back to shut the front door. Lloyd laid the Glock on the table and sat down across from Elliot. A dozen questions filled his mind, but he hesitated to ask them. Elliot didn’t fill the silence. He just took a long drink from his coffee, looking ready to fall asleep at any moment.

“Elliot?” Lloyd found his voice unexpectedly soft as relief shifted to concern. “What happened? Why did you come here?”

“I need your help.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You picked your way through the crowd of shoppers, scanning ahead. The entrance to Zach’s office was between a hand-rolled ice cream shop and a Kate Spade store. If you weren’t paying attention, the discreetly placed entry was easy to miss. It was painted the same color as the wall and served as access to the outlet mall’s second floor, which had been converted to office space during the Great Recession. You found the door and unlocked it with the code he’d sent.

The curving marble stairs led to a wide corridor brightened by tasteful chandeliers and intermittent skylights that invited in the natural light. In sharp contrast to the busy mall, this level was quiet. At the end of the hall you reached his office, pressed the button, and waited for the chime that announced the door had been unlocked.

Zach was in his office with his feet propped up on his desk. The soles of his moc-toe Carhartt boots were so worn that you could hardly make out the original tread pattern. The deep worry lines in his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes immediately caught your attention. Before you could ask, his expression shifted into a smirk.

“Morning, Princess. What brings you in so early on this lovely Saturday?”

“Ha ha. You called me.”

“And was shocked when you picked up the phone. I was going to leave a voicemail.”

“I got up early to meal prep, then remembered Lloyd’s fridge is fully stocked.”

Zach made a face. “Be careful in there, he eats weird stuff.”

“I can’t take that warning seriously from a man who ate fried rattlesnake and liked it.”

“A man has to draw the line somewhere and I draw mine at blood pudding.”

“Do I want to know?”

“If it looks like sausage and it’s in his fridge, don’t touch it.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Now, why am I here?”

“With Lloyd in Idaho, we don’t have a Mandarin translator, so I called in a favor from an ex-teammate. Roth has cleared him to work on the case.”

“What are we doing that requires a translator?”

“An interview. I got in touch with the archivist in Julia’s home town. He asked to meet after work, so you have an hour to prepare.”

You took the overflowing file he extended.

“When did you put all this together?”

“Yesterday and last night.”

“Have you slept?”

“No, which is why you’re doing the interview. I’m heading home to crash once your translator gets here. He’s apparently running late.”

“It’s Saturday, no one’s late on Saturday,” you said.

“I like the way you think.”

A deep voice behind you made you jump. You dropped the file and whirled, catching your heel on the threshold, and falling with an undignified squeak. A pair of strong arms stopped you from hitting the ground and pulled you upright. Gasping, you braced a hand on your rescuer’s shoulder and turned ninety degrees to look at him. He had dark brown hair and a short, trim beard that emphasized his high cheekbones. His eyes, an unusual blend of blue and green, were crinkled with amusement. A full, expressive mouth was drawn into a crooked half smile at your expense.

“Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The newcomers’ accent was crisper than Zach’s drawl, but not as familiar.

You noticed he dropped the ‘r’ in darling, turning it into ‘dah-ling.’ Immediately, your mind went to New England, but the way he rolled his vowels was distinctly Southern. The vestiges of a southern accent, perhaps?

“I’m fine. I didn’t realize you were behind me.”

“How’d you get in?” Zach asked, his voice edged with annoyance.

“I slipped in behind her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“To see if I could.”

He flashed a Cheshire Cat grin, full of mischief. Your disapproval melted at his boyish enjoyment. Wasn’t it better to find a weakness now, than when it really counted?

“I’m having Jake update the alarm system first thing when he’s back. Y/N, this is Marco Lattimer. He and I served together on the teams. Besides being a first class troublemaker, he’s fluent in five languages.”

Marco smirked. “Fluent in five, but I speak seven.”

“Wow. That’s… impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Marco will be your translator. I’ve already briefed him on the case.”

Zach turned to Marco, eyes sharpening. “Lattimer, don’t even think about flirting with my colleague.”

“What if she doesn’t mind?” Marco said, winking at you.

“She’s Lloyd’s research assistant and you’ll have to deal with him regarding the ‘what if’ part, but I’d advise against finding out. Princess, you’ve still got that taser I gave you? Marco’s harmless, but if he gets on your nerves, you have my permission to zap him.”

You grinned at Marco’s disgruntled expression.

“I’m sure we’ll get along fabulously,” you said. “Go home Zach, I can handle this.”

Ten minutes later you were in the conference room with Marco, waiting for the Zoom call to start.

“So, how’d you end up working with Lloyd?” Marco asked.

“I interned at his law firm. He stole me from the paralegal department for my research skills.”

“Sorry to hear that. It must be miserable to be around him all the time. I swear, he’s the reason lawyers get a bad rap. He could teach classes on how to be insufferable.”

This was a sentiment you’d heard many times before.

“Lloyd and I get on fine.”

“Do you have the patience of a saint, an addiction to benzos, or just do a lot of meditation?”

“It depends on the day. Most of the time meditation works, but a stash of benzos is always a good back up plan.”

By the time the computer lit up with the incoming call, you and Marco were on friendly terms. He was charming, funny, and definitely flirting with you. The flirting didn’t concern you because you sensed his pursuit was less about genuine interest and more about target practice. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and folded his arms in a way that showcased his biceps. You would’ve thought it was deliberate but his posture was too nonchalant to be premeditated.

You relied on Marco to make sure Mr. Liu was comfortable and let him engage Liu in small talk for a few minutes. Working with a translator always provided a great excuse to sit back and observe your subject’s mannerisms before starting the interview. Mr. Liu appeared to be in his sixties, with horn-rimmed glasses and neatly combed hair. He wore casual office attire and judging by the fit of his light blue button down, he starched his shirts. He fit the role of village archivist like he’d been sent straight from central casting. After he was settled, you turned the discussion toward pressing matters.

“Did you have any personal connection to Julia or her family?”

Mr. Liu spoke and Marco translated.

“Yes, I knew her family. Her parents were lovely people. Unfortunately, they passed away some years ago.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Are you familiar with the circumstances of Julia's death?”

“Yes, we were all horrified by the tragedy. It was a shocking incident that saddened the entire community. The pain it caused her family was immeasurable.”

“The investigation into Julia's death has been reopened based on fresh evidence. DNA tests have revealed a connection between her and another woman who was murdered in a similar manner. They’re believed to be full siblings. Does Julia have an older sister?”

Mr. Lui’s brow furrowed, and he paused for a long moment.

“That's impossible. Julia's parents were not together for long before she was born. Her father had left the island to serve in the army and spent three years stationed in Vietnam prior to her birth. There is no chance of an older sibling.”

His certainty piqued your attention.

“So, her father was away during that time. Do you have any records that could shed light on Julia's family or explain the existence of an older sibling?”

The archivist’s voice was firm as he responded. Even without Marco’s translation you would’ve understood the statement as a denial.

“I assure you, there was no other child. Julia's parents were committed to each other and their daughter. The entire village would have known if there was another pregnancy or a sibling. It's simply not possible.”

You leaned closer, eager to see his reaction to your next words.

“Mr. Liu, we have evidence suggesting otherwise. We need to uncover the truth about Julia's past, no matter how unsettling it might be. Can you think of any reason they kept this information hidden?”

His head lowered, shoulders rising in symmetry as he frowned.

Liu stumbled over his words as he answered. Translating like you’d asked him to, Marco repeated his statement verbatim.

“I… I can't imagine why or… how such information would have been concealed. Our village is tight-knit, and secrets are rare. Not rare to be kept, but rare not to be noticed and revealed. If there's something hidden, it must have been for a grave reason and Julia’s parents weren’t that sort of people.”

“Thank you for speaking with us, Mr. Liu. We appreciate your time. If anything further comes to mind, please contact us, or the Virginia State Police, directly.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lloyd sat down across from Elliot. He didn’t totally disarm himself but rested the rifle on his thighs under the table.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Joe had a stash of drugs. A big one, according to Holbrook. He thinks I know where it is.”

“Why?”

Elliot rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been taking care of the ranch. Joe paid me for it. He could have hired a cowboy, but you know Joe. He didn’t trust people he didn’t know. The work brought me up here at least a couple times each week for the past three years. What conclusion do you think Holbrook drew from that pattern?”

“And? Was he right?”

“No! Damn it, Lloyd! It took me years to get clean, I wasn’t moving his drugs!”

Lloyd knew, given Elliot’s history, Joe wouldn’t have trusted him around the product. All the same, he had to ask, because one good look at his cousin tipped off Lloyd’s intuition that Elliot wasn’t as clean as he claimed to be.

“I don’t know about a stash of drugs. Joe never told me anything about his business and I didn’t ask. We barely talked, except for emails and text messages about the ranch. He always paid me on time and I appreciated the side income. That was it. But the Sheriff won’t let this thing go.”

Twenty kilos of coke, thirty of heroin, either would be worth more than a million on the street and small enough to hide in a carry-on case.

Lloyd sighed. “Holbrook has to go.”

“He’s untouchable.”

“If I learned anything in the past twenty years, it’s that no one is untouchable.”

“This isn’t London, or Berlin, or some fancy place you’ve been. It’s southeastern Idaho and Holbrook is the King.”

Lloyd grunted. “To be clear, you’re sure this stash actually exists? It wasn’t sold off years ago?”

“I can’t be sure, but Joe always preferred to have a backup plan.”

That rang true. A stash of drugs would’ve served as insurance against stock market fluctuations, housing crises, or whatever rattled the economy next year.

“Alright. Tell me about Holbrook. What’s his weak point?”

Elliot stared. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly. Who has a grudge against him? Are there any deputies on his payroll?”

“Aside from me, I don’t know of any grudges, but his department has a suspiciously high turnover rate.”

“Ex-associates? A disgruntled secretary? Jilted lover?”

“Uh… would a former drug dealer count?” Elliot asked.

“Does this drug dealer have a name?”

“Carl Shepherd. The Sheriff gave him carte blanche to deal locally, then the feds came sniffing around. Holbrook cut him loose and they’re not on good terms, but Shepherd says he has Holbrook in his pocket.”

If the dealer had two brain cells to rub together, he’d have exhorted Holbrook for protection. Lloyd begrudgingly approved of the plan.

“But he’s too scared of the Sheriff to flip on him.”

“Why bite the hand that feeds you?” Lloyd murmured.

His mind moved quickly, considering the various options available. Elliot grimaced.

“I’m never going to get out of this mess.”

“How do you feel about pulling a kidnapping? Say, tonight?”

“Uh… given how that worked out for you last time… lukewarm.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve turned over a new leaf. Carl Shepherd doesn’t have any ex-spooks overly invested in his well-being, though, right?”

“Not that I know of,” Elliot said.

“Great, then let’s get this show on the road.”

After some persuasion, Elliot agreed to the plan. He was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs as he drove them into town in his rattle trap pickup. In contrast, Lloyd was bubbling with excitement, a feeling that intensified as they navigated the narrow lanes of the Oxiana Trailer Park. It was akin to the anticipation before a rollercoaster dropped into free fall - an exhilaration he’d missed from his old life but only realized now. Elliot parked in a shadowy spot about a hundred yards from Shepherd’s house.

He pointed to a gray trailer with peeling paint. “That’s his place. He drives a ‘68 Camaro.”

“Nice car.”

“Uh-huh. What’s your plan, again? You weren’t exactly clear about the how.”

“We’ll see how it plays out. Kidnappings never quite go according to plan.”

“You’d know.”

Lloyd snorted. “Shut up. I’ve seen your rap sheet, you’ve got no room to talk.”

“I was high for that stuff.”

“Yeah? Same.”

Elliot turned, resting an elbow on the steering wheel as he studied Lloyd. “Are you kidding? You were the quarterback, the golden boy. You never touched that shit.”

“I took Adderall to cope with test anxiety and smoked weed.”

“That’s your drug of choice? Adderall? Dude, that’s pathetic.”

“It started with light stuff. Weed, then Adderall. Senior year I started popping Xanax to cope with anxiety. At first it was just when I was struggling, then it became a daily habit.”

Elliot considered him. “I knew you were into weed, but not the rest.”

“Things didn’t get serious until I was at Harvard. I got hooked on pain pills after a football injury and when the team doctor wouldn’t give me more Vicodin, I bought Percocet on the street. From there I got into Ketamine, Valium, and Prozac. The market for drugs was thriving on campus, so I bought extras and re-sold it to the partiers. It didn’t take long before I was taking my own product.”

“Joe would’ve skinned you alive.”

“Beaten me to death is more likely.”

“What’d you get hooked on the most? Percocet?”

“Cocaine. I had a taste for Ecstasy, too. My main addiction was Coke, with a little Xanax in the mix. When I graduated and had the money for it, I got back on Vicodin.”

“Damn. You know what really shocks me?” Elliot asked.

“What?”

“You went for the cheap stuff. Coke? Back in the day, I could get a bag of Coke for like sixty, seventy bucks. Meth was like six times that much.”

Lloyd chuckled. “I’d seen what meth and heroin did to a person. Cocaine felt less risky and more… fun. Until I was in prison, I didn’t think I was addicted.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I kept a lot of secrets before. Now I try not to. Also, if you think I don’t get what it’s like to have your past catch up with you, I want you to know that I do.”

Elliot ducked his head, looking away.

Lloyd turned back to the road. They sat in silence for the next twenty minutes while the sun dipped behind the horizon. A car pulled around the corner with no headlights on and Lloyd squinted, trying to make out the model.

“Is that him?”

Elliot straightened up. “Yeah. That’s him.”

They watched as Carl turned into the driveway and parked, then walked around to the trunk to unload grocery bags.

“What now?” Elliot asked.

“Wait here for thirty seconds, then go up to him. Get his attention. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Elliot nodded and wiped his palms on his jeans. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Lloyd slid out of the truck and shut the door quietly. Keeping one eye on Carl as he took in the first load of groceries, he snuck through the neighbor’s lawn and around their house. Maneuvering through a hole in the chain-link fence he crossed into Carl’s backyard and used the cover of the peeling gray trailer to mask his approach. He listened to footfalls on wooden steps, then pavement, and gauged the distance. A truck door slammed and a moment later, Elliot’s voice rang out, calling a greeting to the drug dealer.

Lloyd burst from his hiding place and ran, aiming at Carl’s back. Electricity crackled as the taser found its mark. The volts sizzled in the air as Carl convulsed, then dropped to the pavement, unconscious.

Elliot jerked back, his face leaching of color.

“Holy shit! What voltage is that thing?!”

Lloyd smirked. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little excitement? Help me get him in the trunk.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Leaving his car here will arouse suspicion. If we take it, the neighbors will assume he’s out of town.”

“Maybe we should stop adding to our rap sheets while we’re still ahead,” Elliot suggested.

“I usually agree with the principle of only committing one felony at a time, but we’re on the clock here. Grab his feet, would you?”

Elliot groaned, but obliged, taking Carl’s feet while Lloyd guided his upper body into the trunk. He slammed it shut and grinned at his cousin’s pale face.

“There. Felony number six, complete. Although technically, in this state kidnapping isn’t a felony until you’re a hundred feet away from the property on which the abduction occurred. So, to be precise, we’re still in the act of felony number six.”

“You’re insane.”

Lloyd smirked. “Not according to my doctor. And given the circumstances, I think this was the most appropriate course of action we could’ve taken. Now, go on ahead of me and make sure everything is set up. I can’t speed with a body in the trunk.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sat next to Marco, looking at the murder board.

Zach had set it up in the corner of the conference room and after the interview you’d migrated over here naturally. Your chairs were adjacent, facing the bulletin board like students in a classroom. Marco had ordered coffee and a late brunch for the both of you while you explained the details of the case.

“And they found the sister’s corpse right next to the first victim?” Marco said.

“Yeah. It’s mind-boggling.”

He shook his head. “What’s weirder is that these two are sisters, but the rest of the girls on this board are as different as night and day. Different hair colors, ethnic backgrounds, different kinds of jobs.”

You turned your attention to the victim’s pictures. They were organized by date of disappearance and below them was a horizontal timeline that stretched from left to right across the width of the board. There was a topographical map of the Fairfax area in the lower right corner, with colored pins making locations.

“There’s a variety in the women, but what’s mostly consistent is the age range, the manner of disappearance, and their social status.”

Marco leaned back, hooking his left ankle over his right knee.

“How do you investigate a case with so many missing variables?”

“You’re referring to the other six corpses?”

“The lack of them, specifically.”

His comment tickled a thread you’d been playing with since Singapore. Rather than answering, you stood up and crossed to the bulletin board. First, you untacked the sketch on the far left of the timeline. It was of the unknown victim - Julia’s supposed sister - and then took down the photo underneath her, representing her daughter. Then from the far right of the timeline, you untacked Julia’s photo.

You sat down next to Marco and faced the board again.

“What about now? Does that make more sense?”

His mouth tilted in a half smile. “I’m not the investigator here. How would I know?”

“Technically, Lloyd and Zach are the investigators and I’m their errand girl. You’re a fresh set of eyes. I’ve been trying to figure out how removing the sisters and the little girl changes things.”

“Do you see a pattern here?” Marco said.

“Maybe. If Lloyd were here, I’d bounce this off of him, but look…”

You laid the photos you’d removed on the table and returned to the board, pointing to the photo of the first woman to go missing.

“The first victim, Stacey Moore was twenty-six. She worked at an indie publishing house in D.C. and had just graduated from G.W with her master’s. She disappeared in June of 1999.”

You pointed to the next photo.

“Maya Sutton. Twenty-four. Tax associate at PriceWaterhouseCoopers, recently hired off an internship program, master’s degree in accounting from William & Mary. Disappeared in August of 1999.”

Marco listened as you ran down the list of victims, and reported their ages, jobs, and degrees. He was nodding along by the time you reached the last photo.

“The women were close in age. Twenty-three to twenty-seven, born and raised in the U.S. and focused on their careers. They were successful despite being young, and except for Lucy Lund, they all came from upper middle class backgrounds.”

“They’re all born in eastern Virginia, too,” Marco said.

You checked the notes and sure enough, all the victims had been born along the Virginia coast. The pattern was even closer than you’d realized.

“Good catch.”

You rehung the photos of Julia, her sister, and the niece, off to the side, separate from the serial killer victims.

“They found these victims. That doesn’t feel like an accident. If he made six women disappear without a trace, why leave three corpses in the same spot? And Julia’s body wasn’t even properly disposed of.”

“That deviates significantly from the pattern,” Marco said.

“And with the timeline laid out like this, it looks like Julia’s abduction occurs too early in the year. He’d abducted someone during the last week of May before, but Julia disappeared in April, which is a month before he usually began taking victims. There’s also a stopping period between the 1999 victims and the 2000 cases. In 1999 the last victim disappeared on September 3rd. In 2000 the last victim was August 15th.”

“Seasonal employees might be a good suspect pool to explore.”

“Removing the discovered bodies gives us a pattern. But when you add these three cases, it muddies the waters. I think we’re looking at two different crimes. A serial killer and… this mess with Julia, whatever it is.”

Marco crossed his arms, studying the altered layout of the board.

“You’re right. Julia really doesn’t fit his victim type.”

“She was too tall, not from the United States - and not from Virginia. She didn’t have a college degree, let alone a graduate degree, and didn’t work outside the home. The serial killer’s victims were ambitious, professional women. They were all under five foot five and didn’t weigh more than a hundred and sixty pounds, but none of them were exceptionally thin. The abductor seemed to pursue women of average build.”

“Julia was five-nine and weighed about one-thirty,” Marco said.

“Going off victim type, that made her not only too tall, but too thin.”

“What’s hard to understand is that he’d suddenly screw up a body dump after getting it right so many times. For his first victim, sure. He’s inexperienced. But doing it again with Julia, several years later… the only way it makes sense is if he put the sisters together.”

Goosebumps raised on your arms. If he put the sisters together…

What if the sisters’ deaths were connected? Maybe even to the serial killer, but not as victims who he’d hunted. Had they gotten in the way? Or was there something else, completely unrelated to the disappearances, going on at the same time? Was that possible in a town as small as Harmony?

“What are you thinking?” Marco asked.

“I think it’s two different cases. Everyone was waiting for the pattern from ‘99 and 2000 to re-emerge. They were mentally preparing for the next victim and Julia was the next woman to disappear. In a small town riddled with disappearing women, why wouldn’t they think she was part of the spree?”

“That’s logical, but the way you’ve explained it makes better sense. What about the sister and the niece? They’re an even bigger deviation from pattern than Julia. How can they be identified when there’s nothing to go on?”

“I’ll figure out something,” you said. “Lloyd won’t be back until Tuesday, so I’ve got time.”

“Where is he?” Marco asked.

You noted his demeanor changed when Lloyd’s name came up. His arms crossed, creating a subtle barrier between you, and the paper cup in his hand crumpled in his grip. His attention was riveted on you, belying the casual tone he’d spoken in.

“He’s out west, taking care of family matters.”

“Huh. So, Lloyd didn’t hatch from an egg?”

“You worked with him before, you’d probably know more than me.”

The comment slipped out, not entirely by accident. Meeting people who’d known Lloyd in the past alway stirred your curiosity. Lloyd’s life had been a series of transformations: a gifted law student turned cold-blooded intelligence officer, then a disgraced ex-spy who’d become a ruthless mercenary and landed himself in prison. You’d only known Lloyd after his metamorphosis into a law-abiding citizen. Discovering the previous version that had existed before was a constant source of entertainment. Gruesome entertainment, perhaps, but you couldn’t check your impulse to fish for information whenever the chance presented itself.

“Do you enjoy working with Lloyd?”

Marco’s question took you off guard.

“Yes. He was a bit of a pill at first, but then I discovered he could be charming when he wanted to be. After that, I made sure he had reasons to be charming.”

“What makes him want to be charming?”

“Rewards. Lloyd responds best to positive reinforcement. It works wonders.”

“Really?”

“He’s like a border collie. If you don’t keep him occupied and engaged, he’ll start chasing squirrels and digging up the yard.”

Marco chuckled. You pressed him harder.

“What was working with Lloyd like for you?”

He pursed his lips. “I knew him when he was on Zach’s team. They were doing God-knows-what in the same area where I was deployed. He was obnoxious.”

His fingers tightened on the paper cup, crushing it nearly in half, unaware of the action.

“Yeah. But Special Forces attracts a lot of obnoxious people.”

His lips twitched, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“One day Lloyd showed up with extras. Tag-a-longs from Langley, I think. They assigned my team as their support crew. We were waiting at a checkpoint to help them exfiltrate, which should have been simple, but things went sideways and we had to extract them. Everyone was accounted for - except Lloyd’s extras.”

You watched Marco’s lips compress. His shoulders bunched and you read anger in the lines of his body and the set of his jaw. He’d crumpled the coffee cup flat. Silence stretched. You waited, knowing he’d eventually fill the silence.

Marco’s eyes flickered, shifting to internal focus. You could tell he was picking his words carefully.

“The most dangerous predators wear the most charming masks. Lloyd… Lloyd is a viper in Gucci loafers. He takes pleasure in manipulating people, especially emotionally. Lloyd comes across brash, but underneath it he’s malicious, with a ruthless streak ten miles wide. I’ve seen it in action. Trust me, his blood runs cold.”

You were silent, thinking of Lloyd’s revelations in Qatar. He’d cultivated a certain image in the intelligence community, and clearly, Marco had experienced it. Silence hung over the room as he continued to weigh his words.

“We were behind enemy lines at that point, but I offered to turn back and try to save the tag-a-longs. Lloyd laughed. Straight up laughed, and told me everything had gone according to plan. The agents had been on a one way trip from the start and he’d risked the whole team’s lives to dispose of them.”

“What did you do?”

His eyes flashed.

“I went back for them. One was alive. They’d slit the other’s throat. I reported the incident to command and got transferred to a different continent the next day. Later I found out the guy I’d saved died in the hospital because of a medication error.”

You nodded, studying his reactions. They were full of anger and distaste. Marco’s story was authentic and his emotions genuine. Defending Lloyd, explaining that he’d changed, wouldn’t help Marco. He’d known a different person than you did. That version of Lloyd had done terrible things without remorse and he was still capable of it, when pushed.

“Lloyd is charming, but be careful. He’s not trustworthy.”

“I appreciate the warning, and I’m familiar with his background. He’s changed a lot since prison. There are still rough edges, and the ruthless streak is still there, but the malice isn’t.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting conclusion.”

“If you want to say ‘bullshit,’ just say it. There’s no need to take that tone.”

“Noted. Why don’t we find something more pleasant to talk about than Lloyd? Say, over coffee? Or better yet, dinner?”

You wanted to accept, so you could find out more about Lloyd, but the invitation was clearly romantic.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m seeing someone right now. Maybe another time.”

His lips curled into a rueful smile. Before he could speak, there was a loud buzz. Your heads turned toward the front door in unison.

“Where’s the video feed?” Marco asked.

“I think there’s one at the front desk.”

The buzzer sounded again. Who would visit Zach’s office on a Saturday? Anyone who had business being here on the weekend would’ve had a key. With Marco on your heels, you headed for the lobby. Behind the receptionist’s desk, you found a monitor discreetly mounted into the wall, displaying the feed from the hall. A man in a shirt and tie, with a gun holstered on his right hip, stood outside.

He looked into the camera and you recognized Detective Roth.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Carl Shepherd woke up with a headache. A second later, he realized someone had tied him to a chair with his hands cuffed behind him. There was duct tape securing the cuffs to prevent him from picking them.

“What the fuck?!”

“Well, well, look who’s awake. Had a good nap, Sleeping Beauty?”

His head swung, searching the darkness for the owner of the voice. A switch clicked and Carl hissed, whipping his head away from the 10,000 lumen work lamps that burned his eyes. His head throbbed in protest at the dazzling light and the quick movement.

“Fuck! What are you doing? Are you trying to blind me?!”

The beams from the industrial lamps were like looking at the sun. He squinted out of the corner of his right eye, trying to see his kidnapper.

“You can’t do this! I’m untouchable, damn it! I make one call to Sheriff Holbrook and you’re running for the rest of your lives. What kind of psycho are you?!”

“We’re the Canadians,” the voice said. “We’re here for a stockpile of drugs a former business associate of ours misplaced. Rumor has it you’d know something about it.”

He laughed. “Canadians? You don’t scare me.”

“I don’t need to scare you, but what should scare you is suffocation. Because guess where we are?”

Carl looked around, noticing the corrugated walls of the room.

“A shipping container.”

“Bingo. We seal the vents and shut the door and you’re dead. It’s not the lack of oxygen that kills you, it’s the carbon dioxide poisoning from your own exhalations. First, you get a headache, then nausea sets in and your heart rate spikes. You pant for breath, but you can’t get any, so you start to feel dizzy. Then vomiting, seizures, and finally you pass out before officially suffocating to death.”

Carl considered the threat. His kidnapper took this pause as defiance.

“I’ve run the numbers and given the volume of this container, the ratio of oxygen, the probable rate of consumption, and other variables, suffocation should take about 22 hours. Horrible way to go, trust me. I’ve seen it before.”

He could easily imagine the owner of the voice hovering in the shadows, wearing an oxygen mask as he watched his victim suffer. A long silence lingered as he waited for the kidnapper to continue.

“Alright, suffocation it is…”

Clothing rustled and the lights illuminated the outline of a man as he stood from a chair on the other side of the work lamps.

“Hey! Wait, don’t!”

“You want to talk?” the kidnapper asked.

“I can’t give you the drugs. You’re looking for Joe Hansen’s stash, right? I don’t have them, it was Deputy Russell who took them!”

- - - - -

Elliot leaned against the Camaro, staring straight ahead.

“We’re screwed. We’re totally screwed.”

Lloyd resisted the urge to point out that Elliot was screwed, not him. If push came to shove he’d kill Holbrook and slip out of town. That wasn’t something his cousin was hardened enough to consider. At the moment taking out the Sheriff might not be the worst plan. Elliot could serve as his alibi. After seeing how he’d handled the kidnapping, it was obvious he’d be a terrible accomplice, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t set Lloyd up for an acquittal based on reasonable doubt.

“Holbrook will never believe his right-hand man crossed him,” Elliot said.

“Deputy Russell is his second?”

“Yeah. Luke Russell.”

“Huh. I think I had a run in with Deputy Luke the other day. Is he partial to a pump-action rifle?”

Elliot’s eyes widened. “That’s him. How’s you get away?”

“Charm, wit, and of course, I’m too pretty to kill,” Lloyd said, and winked. “Listen, this is just a setback. We can work with this. The plan is the same as before - we get the Sheriff busted. Once he’s locked up, you’re in the clear.”

“How? We don’t have any drugs!”

“Tell me about Deputy Russell.”

“He’s careful. Paranoid. Kind of off-kilter, socially. When he tries to cover it up, he comes across as creepy. He’s almost as crazy as the Sheriff.”

Lloyd considered the odds that Holbrook had found another psychopath to partner with. Someone less polished than him, so he’d never have to worry about competition for his elected position. Birds of a feather flocked together, especially the unstable personalities with criminal tendencies, like Joe and Holbrook. They had remained allies for fifteen years before their falling out. Perhaps history wasn’t exactly repeating itself here, but it seemed to rhyme.

Joe and the Sheriff had gone from partners to enemies. Now, Holbrook and Russell’s alliance was approaching the same crossroads, and Elliot was caught in the middle.

“He wouldn’t move the drugs? Or check on them?”

“No,” Elliot said. “If he had the slightest idea we knew about the stash he’d destroy it. Russell is paranoid, in capital letters.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Lloyd mused. “Would he sell them?”

Elliot frowned and scratched his jaw. “Maybe. He’s in this for the money and a quick sale would cover his tracks.”

“Alright,” Lloyd said. “Here’s the new plan.”

- - - - -

Carl watched the two men enter the shipping container. His eyes had adjusted to the brightness, but he still couldn’t see anything but shadows past the work lamps. To his surprise, the kidnapper in charge stepped into the light. Dread curled in Carl’s stomach. If he was seeing his kidnapper’s face, that only meant one thing.

“What? What do you want from me?”

“Call Deputy Russell and tell him you found a buyer for the drugs.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’ll kill me!”

The mustached kidnapper sneered. He reached behind his back and pulled out a Glock.

“Listen up, Carl. You have two choices. Get us a meeting with Russell, or say goodbye to your kneecaps.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Detective Roth hadn’t spoken for twenty minutes. He sat with his arms crossed in the waiting room, opposite from you and Marco. The clock ticked loudly, counting off the seconds as you waited for Zach.

Marco shifted beside you, his leather jacket creaking. He’d refused to leave you alone with Roth. The protectiveness amused you, since you had no qualms about being alone with the detective, but Marco had taken an instant dislike to the man. It didn’t help that Roth had refused to explain the nature of his visit. He’d breezed in like he owned the place and immediately demanded you round up Zach, Bishop, and Lloyd.

Your phone vibrated with a text from Zach.

On my way up.

A moment later, the door opened, and Bishop entered, followed by Zach.

You did a double take at the sight of Bishop’s outfit. He wore khaki slacks and a novelty golf shirt that made the patterns in Lloyd’s closet look tame. His black polo was decorated in neon-sign print. Hot pink flamingos, lime green palm leaves, turquoise margarita glasses, magenta watermelon slices, and chartreuse pineapples covered the material.

For a man who wore nothing but white or blue shirts and neutral ties to the office, he apparently swung to the opposite end of the spectrum on the weekend. Next time you needed a gift for Lloyd you’d ask Bishop where he bought his golf shirts.

Zach pinned the detective with hard eyes.

“What brings you here, uninvited, on a Saturday afternoon, Roth?”

“Which one of you contacted the press?”

“Excuse me?” Zach said, tilting his head.

“Who leaked evidence to the media? If you speak up now, the punishment won’t be as bad. I’d recommend doing so quickly, because I’d rather not get angrier than I already am.”

“None of us would do that,” Bishop said.

Roth grunted. “What about Lloyd Hansen? Why isn’t he here?”

You answered. “His father died. He’s in Idaho taking care of family matters.”

You tried to speak neutrally, but despite your best efforts, anger sizzled in the words.

“The Rolling Stone ran a cover story on the unidentified victims of Shun Nguyen today. The highlight of the piece was that the recently discovered victim was found by the Xiarong crime scene, where she’d been lying undiscovered for the past twenty years.”

He paused, letting the statement sink in, then continued.

“A podcaster was waiting for me in the parking lot this morning. Guess what he wanted? He wanted to know how we could miss a second victim only a few hundred feet away from the first. That was a fun question to field at six a.m.”

Zach’s lips compressed and goosebumps rose on your arms as the shock settled in.

“Do you have any idea how much harder my job just got?” Roth demanded.

“Our job,” Zach said.

The detective snorted. “Given the magnifying glass we’re about to be put under, go ahead. Call it your case, please. It’ll keep a few reporters off my back while they chase you around.”

Zack and Bishop exchanged a glance. You wondered if you should mention what you’d learned from Mr. Liu this morning. Questioning the DNA test when Roth was already upset didn’t feel too smart, but you didn’t want him to think you were hiding information. One look at his tight-lipped expression decided your course of action.

“We weren’t the ones who contacted the media,” you said.

“We’ve had limited hands on this case in the department and only a few people knew the details published today. I trust all of those people. By default, that puts you all at the top of my suspect list.”

Roth looked around, studying each face.

“The only explanation is that someone in this room compromised the investigation. You betrayed your responsibility, mishandled classified information, and screwed me over. As of right now our cooperation is over. Until you hear differently, stay the hell away from my department.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Chapter XV

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Masterlist

Tag List

@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai

@elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @terry2227 @jesevans @mjey12 @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @ultrasilentwhispers @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida @mysweetlittledesire @maylaysia109 @liecastillo @unluckyevans @marantha @literaturelove @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister@ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @roseeatta @pensieve-foryour-thoughts @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @michalkasimp @namelesssav @yiiiikesmish @lavenderx0 @calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @rogersbarber

#the princess & the lawyer #the princess and the lawyer #series: the princess & the lawyer #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #chris evans characters #chris evans characters x reader #no minors #minors dni #the gray man fanfic #the gray man fanfiction #the gray man fic #lloyd hansen #smut series

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evita-shelby · 10 months ago

Text

National Anthem

Chapter 7

Cw: postpartum, mentions of breastfeeding, postpartum depression and rage, attempted murder, period typical attitudes , alcohol

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife @call-sign-shark

Rosie’s birth wasn’t the end to Eva’s shitty moods.

Jack’s gone to New York with his business at the investment firm he’s bought and knows there’s gonna be another row when he gets back.

Eva was afflicted by the baby blues and some remains of her shell shock. Didn’t help that Rosie had trouble latching onto her tits to the point the doctor had to recommend powdered baby formula a week ago.

His witch had taken it as having failed at being a mother even if Rosie was barely fifteen days old. From then on everything had just become worse, in his expert opinion.

The lack of sex made her irritable, a strict regime to regain her figure ruined meals more often than not and having her remaining family far from her had her at the brink of tears.

She had wanted to come to New York, stay with her family in 5th Avenue while he worked, but he had refused her suggestion because she was still recuperating from Rosie’s fucking awful birth.

Did it stop her from barging into his office today as if she weren’t still bleeding from the birth?

No, because here she was looking as stunning as always and angry at him for some fucking reason he cannot even begin to guess.

“What the fuck did I do this time, Evie?” he sits back and asks the woman who looks very close to committing violence.

“The Italians, did you have to fucking provoke them, Jack?” she answers throwing the black hand addressed to him.

His latest taunt was supposed to put the fear of God in them, let them fucking know Jack meant business.

Changretta had wrapped a garrote around his balls when he learned Laurie had gone off to die in France, said he’d make sure the Nelson name would die with him in that alley.

Now that the Spiniettas tried their hand at bootlegging, Jack had come to make Luca shit his tailor-made suit. The Irish gangster then told him all about the witch who not only gave him the boats the Italians were trying to use to smuggle booze from Europe but also had given Jack the three brats back-to-back.

And when you’re having Riccardo Spinietta ask where the shipment went, I’ll be fucking a fourth one into her, Jack had taunted as they left Luca barely alive at the docks.

“Congratulations on your daughter.” The threat was clear, and Jack supposed his wife had a reason to chew him out about it.

“If anything happened to you and the kids, I’ll fucking kill them.” He stayed seated already plotting how he’d wipe the wops off the face of the fucking earth for daring to come after his woman and children.

“Your police chief has been notified and until this is resolved, we are staying with my uncle. You are welcome to join us there, or not, I don’t give a shit.” Even despite the danger they are in, she’s still mad at him.

The witch straightened herself out as she made to leave his office, Jack took the chance to walk her out, to have an excuse to touch her even if its just a hand at the small of her back and a lukewarm kiss goodbye.

“Put a place for me at dinner then, Evie. We will talk about this later” He’ll deal with this later, when he can get her to talk freely and then remind her he loves her better than anyone else ever can.

For now, he settles by opening the door for her.

Instead of leaving Eva pulled him onto the threshold with trembling hands and forcefully shoved him against the doorframe seconds before a bomb went off in the street below.

He covered her as best he could as they braced for impact. The office is sturdy enough to withstand the damage and yet the screams he hears in the lobby below tell him that this bomb was meant for them.

The Black Hand had retaliated, the hand in their mail was a diversion. A way to get him to leave his office and be on the street when it happened.

They knew she’d confront him about it and would’ve taken both out had they been in the street.

It would be blamed on the Italian anarchists who sent their letters this morning while he was hiding in England after his failure.

Luca will be dead when he sets foot in American soil.

Eva’s given a sedative for her nerves and Jack a prescription for whiskey after being cleared of injuries.

“We’ll be fine, baby, we’ll take a trip somewhere until it passes. Just us and the babies.” He promised cradling her face and kissing her forehead as she sat there numbly on the hospital bed.

It wasn’t the first nor last attempt on her life, but this was the first time she didn’t want to die.

Knowing she had so much to live for had shaken her, knowing she had children who needed her, a family who would miss her had made her realize just how valuable her life was.

“How about Florida, we could rent the bungalow like we did on our honeymoon and just stay there where nothing can touch us.” Jack promised her the world and every problem had been forgotten.

But they still exist. Even if they are forgotten in the background.

“Yeah, let’s do that. Stay there for a while. I miss the sand and the sun so much.” She gave a small smile. “But tonight, we celebrate, we celebrate they didn’t kill us.”

A shame she still has some twenty days before she could fuck, nothing made her feel alive like having him between her legs in every position they could think of.

Instead, she settles for drinking enough to forget that morning even happened. Not that she can, motherhood and sobriety made her a lightweight and it’s not long before she’s being taken upstairs before she truly falls off the wagon.

Doesn’t work, never fucking works, or so she tells Jack who is still sober enough to throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Have you forgotten what made you so mad at me?” he tossed her on the bed and spread her legs wide for him forgetting they can’t fuck. Something he should remember from last year when they couldn’t fuck on the kitchen table the Father’s Day after the twins were born.

“No.” the witch answered closing her legs and using this power she has over him to talk their shit out. “You keep me out of your business, and now we’re in danger because it didn’t occur you to ask your all-knowing wife what she thought of intercepting the liquor in her ships.”

“It’s a man’s world, sweetie, would make me, us, look weak if you got involved.” He said in his defense, still undressing to join her in bed thinking she’ll forget about this tomorrow when the hangover sets in.

“So? They’d regret it when they realize we’re un- fucking- touchable. Had it not been for me today you would have been blown to smithereens, sweetie.”

Eva then moved forward until she was kneeling at the edge of the bed and running her hands up his thighs until she reached his belt. So, she wasn’t supposed to have penetrative sex, but they never said she couldn’t use her hands or her mouth to keep Jack in line.

“I could’ve survived.” Jack’s hand comes under her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip tempting her into sucking it, as if he weren’t already straining in his pants at the mere idea of coming on her tits and face.

Her gringo loves her mouth, thanks god all her boyfriends are dead because he can’t have any man alive know her talents.

Eva wants to bite his finger off for dismissing her words and he knows it. She might even leave him like this for saying it, she’s done it before.

“Fine, we’ll give it a try, but I make all the final decisions and you won’t be on the payroll. If people catch wind of it, our enemies will too.” The thumb on her lower lip goes back to cradle her chin and forcefully tugged her face upwards to make him look in the eye as he gives his one-time offer. “Do you understand, doll, you play by my rules, or you don’t play at all.”

Well at least one good thing came out of today.

A/N: on September 16, 1920 (presumably) Italian Anarchists put a bomb in a cart at Wall Street, New York. There are conspiracies as to who did it because even now they can't actually confirm it was the Anarchists who did it.

Joe Kennedy happened to be in his office that day and was apparently blown back from the impact even it was across the street from the bomb, Jack here survived because Luca miscalculated how long they'd take in his office.

The idea for Luca and Jack’s rivalry is actually @thegreatdragonfruta idea.

#eva smith shelby #evacore #eva x jack #jack nelson #jack nelson fanfic #jack nelson x oc #jack nelson x eva smith #national anthem fic

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z45capp · 4 months ago

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August 6 - 台南； Stationery Store, Sicao Green Tunnel, Anping Tree House, 台南 Confucius Temple, Old Lin Department Store

I have been spending too much time with Brooke. I know us so well that we did go back to the stationery store. B sadly did not get the turtle plush, but she did get a lot of other pens, highlighter, markers, and another calligraphy brush. We are both in agreement that the man who sold us our first ones in 九份 might have scammed us. $400 NTD for one calligraphy brush is a lot, and B said that the varnish on hers is coming off. Mine is okay for right now, but the quality does say that it was something I probably could have bought in a stationery store. We got tricked because he was hand making the brush heads in front of us. But it’s for the memories, I suppose. Anyway, at the stationery store, I did $600 NTD worth of damage, which is not bad at all considering I thought it was about to be a lot more. I did get a fountain pen for $150 NTD plus one washi, some “Thank You” stickers, even more stickers, and some more materials for our top secret project. So glad I got out of there before I bought even more. Sorry, Mom, I didn’t get any photos of the store, there were too many cameras and I was too nervous. I did however get a picture of the outside of the store.

Back in the room, I did some organizing and worked on this blog post before heading out to find the 100 year old tree 葉老師 told us about. I did not find the tree, though, both maps brought me to a gate for the National Cheng Kung University, which I wasn’t sure if the entrance to the garden where the tree was was inside the gates, so I didn't go in. But I did get a good walk out of it and walked passed the Department of Business Administration, which, of course, as a Business major, I had to take a picture of. I made it back to the hotel with just enough time to charge my phone a little bit and grab some snacks before meeting everyone at the bus.

Our first stop was the Sicao Green Tunnel, a short boat ride through some mangrove trees. When Peter told us that we were taking a boat ride, I was very scared because I get boat sick easily. The humidity and the closeness of the seats on the boat also did not help, I felt nauseous the whole time, but thankfully did not throw up or get sick afterwards. Reflecting now, the boat ride was very cool to see the trees and the animals who use the area. Second, the Anping Tree House. The Tree House used to be a salt warehouse, but since its abandonment has been taken over by nature; banyan tree branches and roots cover every part of the Tree House, from floors, walls, and even to the roof. I had fun exploring the Tree House, but I do wish that it wouldn’t have been so rainy when we went. Plus, Fanny, Faith, and I were late to the bus because the snacks we had ordered at the adjacent cafe took a really long time. Not super fun to be late, but everyone was so nice about it and didn’t mind too much. Third, the 台南 Confucius Temple. This Temple is the oldest Confucius temple in Taiwan, the main worship area of the building is built in the Southern style with angled roofs, while the buildings forming the courtyard are built in the Northern style with flat roofs. The temple was beautiful and I am glad that we got to see a Confucius temple since the one in 高雄 was closed when we went. Finally, the Old Lin Department Store. Built in 1932 by the Japanese, it is one of the only shopping malls to have a shrine on its rooftop. I think the shrine was closed when we went, but I got a few pictures of the Torii gate right next to it. The store is five floors and has everything from clothes, jewelry, bags, to shoes, pens, soaps, tumblers, and more. I thought that walking the five floors would have been hard, but the steps were easily doable. At one of the stores, I bought a massage bar. I definitely didn’t need it, but the ladies were so nice and I had wanted to buy some soap before I left, so this fulfilled that wish. I feel like the relaxing powers of the bar also did kick in a little later while I was walking around. I felt more relaxed and like I could go to bed easily, which the ladies had said the massage bar is good for.

Back at the hotel, I wrote most of my Independent Excursion before going out to a bar with the group. However, the bar we wanted to go to had a standup show and was completely full. So, we found another bar, but would have had to pay $300 each, and no one wanted to do that. Then half of us decided to head back to the hotel while the other half decided to keep exploring. I am so glad that I went back to the hotel as I was able to finish my Independent Excursion, where I yapped A LOT, and packed before leaving the hotel and leaving Taiwan.

Academic Reflection

I found the blog post (Not the Spiritual Travels blog) about the Sicao Green Tunnel to be pessimistic. The author wrote about how the tour guides on the boat had the wrong facts and how the tunnel was completely man made and not natural like advertised. I honestly would not have known this if I hadn’t read the blog, but why point out all the inaccuracies? I suppose that I should be happy that someone did provide the correct facts, though. The sentence at the end saying how the author would still go even if everything was falsely advertised seemed rushed and inauthentic. The Spiritual Travels blog also touched upon the man madness of the Tunnel, but I feel like it had a more positive outlook than the other blog. It also seemed more authentic than the other blog’s, like the author really did mean that the ropes holding up the branches were there for a reason and not to fool tourists. In the Tunnel, I did not notice the ropes at all, and quite frankly do not care too much whether it is man made or not, as long as the experience shows the beauty of rural Taiwan.

I thought that the Old Lin Department Store had been the first one of its kind in Taiwan. The reading says that it is the second one, the first being Kikumoto Department Store in 台北. It is understandable that one of the biggest cities would have had the first department store, though. I can definitely see the care the government had put into restoring the building. While the shops inside are modern, the architecture remains the same as do the decorations on the walls and floors. I also definitely saw the bullet holes in the walls remaining from WWII.

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pirate-of-the-southern-isles · 7 months ago

Text

Fanfic's snippet - How Hans became a pirate, part III

First part here

Second part here

Hans is telling the story of what the hell is he doing here to Anna and Elsa after three years of the events portrayed and from his own perspective, mind you.

After Layla and Bernard managed to get into a huge fight – both verbal and physical – and Bernard called him “a lice-lad” for the first time, he didn’t even know why – it was a time to go.

“Catch!” Layla threw him one of the bags with gold and ordered to run as fast as he can. So he ran, not even feeling the pain of glass splinters in his feet. It wasn’t so bad – for as far as they ran out of the castle. The floor inside were even and hard, or covered in soft carpets. The soil of the Southern Isles was, on the other hand, really treacherous and sharp, especially with no shoes on. He didn’t have them. He didn’t have anything but the pyjamas. There was no time to change.

“Dinghy!” she yelled, when they’ve finally managed to slide off the black rocks and not kill themselves doing that. He almost sprained his ankle five times before he reached the shore. She basically seated him onto a bench and pushed the boat to the water herself, then she jumped in and grabbed paddles.

“Move it, newbie!” she ordered, throwing him one of them. It snapped him out of this weird, frenzy state he fell into when he saw from a distance how the flames consume the badly shattered castle, which prided itself to be “impossible to capture”.

There were a lot of other boats around, filled with pirates going back to their vessels. Everyone was screaming, calling to one another. No one was chasing them. There was only a sound of fire and people’s cries behind him. He didn’t know if those were voices of pirates or just of simple people thrown out of their beds, like he was.

Now he saw more clearly. On the sea near the main Isle there were not one but a few different ships of various sizes, but every one of them had a Jolly Rogers on their masts, every one had at least a line of cannons and was fully ready to use them. Every once in a while there was a boom – apparently, the powder hasn’t run out yet. Its smell was pervading the whole world around, managed to dull even the odour of the salt. He was feeling like his eardrums were about to burst. There was a sack with a stolen gold at his lap. Layla had three around her. Not to much, given the size of the freshly robbed treasury, but when they will sell all the other stuff… but where to sell it?! It was obvious that those things were stolen! It was probably easy to identify from where! They will find them, he will be taken home, he will be sent home again…

“Hey! Don’t panic!” Despite the darkness of a moonless night from one side and the smoke from another, she saw his face clearly. “You are starting your new life, lad! Look! See that one there?! She’s ours! Now, row with those arms!”.

The ship was close now. There were reflections of fire on the sea, giving impression like they were entering Hell. But they reached the bank – he was pretty strong after long years of fencing trainings and manure-shoveling, but his shoulders were still begging mercy – and someone threw them a ladder.

It was the first time he set foot on the “Morning Star”. There was the crew all around him, screaming cheerfully and drunk with victory. Because victory was obvious, fair and square. He could hardly believe it. Some pirate band just robbed the Southern Isles to the last penny. Of course, yes, the main treasury was still almost full, because, well, they didn’t have much time and sacks and Bernard managed to steal them some… but taken the damages into account, his father will have to spend a small fortune to repair it all.

Something slammed right next to him. Involuntarily, he jumped out of the way, but it was just one of the yards, pulling down the sail. The ship kicked. Someone at the wheel started to spin it. Someone else started yelling orders, but he had absolutely no clue what those meant. His heart was pounding, he could hear mainly some high-pitched peep and a white noise. His eyes were watering. His whole body hurt. And, he had to admit, he was terrified half to death.

Someone tugged on his wrist, he almost fell over.

“Come, catch those halyards and pull! I’ll be right back with ya!”

He has absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be pulling, but, fortunately, someone just sticked it into his hands.

“Come on, lad, on three! One, two, three!”

Having no better idea, he pulled. He felt a sudden pain in his palms – but he didn’t let go. Those pirates before him didn’t let go either, so he didn’t want to look weak. Looking weak was always dangerous, and if it was dangerous at home, then on the pirate ship, among some thugs, it was probably deadly.

There was quite a few of “one, two, three”s. Every time he thought he was losing a piece of a skin, but the ship was slowly turning around, heading for the sea. Hans felt a wind on his neck and saw it in the sails. They were leaving.

He looked back. Flames left on the land, smaller by the minute. There was still a long time till dawn. The other ships vanished somewhere in the darkness. There was no moon. They were going into the night. On stranger tides. All of his life was disappearing behind the stern.

When the last sail was set, the crew cheered. One of them jumped, the other one showed around his newly acquired treasures, two of them started dancing so hard they crashed into the other two and the three who were stealing the tapestry – he didn’t know their names by then – pulled out the instruments and started to play. The whole ship was having a great time. And he was just standing there, not knowing what he is supposed to do. Layla promised she will be back soon, but she was nowhere to be seen. Was he supposed to just remain standing? Maybe he should sit? Cheer with them or stay silent, not drawing attention?

“Hey, lad, and who may ye be?” finally, the pirate who yelled “one, two, three” noticed him. He had a beard, a striped shirt with no sleeves and a big belly. Oh, and an eye-patch.

“Me… Hans” he responded, barely remembering his own name. “My name is Hans.”

“Are you a hostage?”

“What? No!” he gasped; is it possible that Layla took him only as that?! If so, well, she is up for a great disappointment. He was sure no one is going to pay for him. And as far as he knew, hostages with no hope for a ransom were usually up for a gruesome end… He suddenly felt sick.

“So what, a new crewmate?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Eh, nevermind. Look here, lad!” he showed him his own bag, filled to the fullest… yes, it was definitely one of his sisters-in-law jewelery. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes… and… where did you find it?” he asked carefully; it wasn’t like he had some big feelings towards the wives of his brothers. Usually he just treated them with some slight sympathy. And he pitied them on behalf of joining this so-called-family, because he know best it is no joy, no honour and no profit. But he would prefer them to not be hurt. In the end, there was no animosity between them. Most of them hated the Southern Isles as much as he did.

“From one of the bedrooms, where else?”

“And… the owner?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t bump into anyone, why?”

“No reason”. He felt a little better now… well, a little little. “So… where are we heading?”.

“Wherever our captains commands, of course! Oy, mates!” He yelled to his friends, hoisting up his plunder. “Hurray for captain Rogers!”

The crew yelled with all the might. Hans could see both men and women, different ages, various shapes, sizes and colours. The darkness of the night was lit up only by small, iron lanterns, so it was hard to tell exactly how many of them there is.

The pirate laughed resoundingly.

“Cheer up, lad! Name’s Raivis. Are you from there? Some village?”

“I… me…” What was he supposed to say? I am a thirteenth prince, well, I was, before they disowned me, I ran away because I couldn’t stand them anymore”?! “Yes, I am from the Isles” He hoped it will be enough for now.

“Look at you, lad, so scared! Is it your first time seeing the battle?”

“This kind, yes”. He preferred not to mention Arendelle just now.

“Oh, of course. Here, take a sip!” Raivis reached somewhere next to them. Other pirate was just pouring something into wooden cups. It has a strong scent of citruses. New colleague took two, for him and for himself. Hans took it, but it was like he didn’t know what is he expected to do. “Well, lad? Here is for the health of the captain!”

Not seeing any other way, Hans raised the cup and tasted the grog for the first time. He barely stopped himself from spitting it out immediately.

“So, how did you get here?” It seemed like Raivis was going to keep his interview, right after he swallowed all of his shot in one gulp. “Wait, let me guess! You are looking for adventure! You have it in your eyes, lad, yes, I’ve seen it before. So, seven seas, adventures, glory and unforgettable story, aye?”

“Ah, Raivis, you really ain’t the brightest”. Suddenly right next to him appeared a woman with a really mean smile. She wore two braids, tied diagonally on her head, and a velvety tunic. Probably expensive. But he could safely assume that for her – it was free. “I can tell right away. He is running away from something!”

Oh damn.

“So, lad? The holy matrimony was just too tiring, or maybe there was some small fight with your old ones?”

Boy, you have no idea.

“Hans!”

He turned around immediately. At the doors between two sets of stairs, where on the “Black Sheep” one could find a galley and for the “Morning Star” it was a where captain’s cabin was located, stood Layla.

“Come, my father wants to see you.”

#frozen #fanfic #hans of the southern isles #fanfiction #prince hans #hans westergaard #the southern isles #westergaards #you can always be a pirate #prince hans of the southern isles #pirate hans #frozen hans #disney hans #oc layla rogers #oc bernard svöluson #lots of OCs

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