#I think we should make trading illegal

[duckduos]

Sobbing rn WEEPING even

[rederiswrites]

Look, I think if you're a US citizen you should go on Youtube and watch the debate, or at least some of the chunks of it where the topic matters most to you. You can't counter the arguments if you don't know what arguments they're making. And no, I don't mean arguing with your aunt that drank the conspiracy koolaid. I mean that there are genuinely a lot of people out there hearing what Trump is saying and thinking, "I don't know. That sounds really scary."

So know what he said, and know not just THAT he lied, but HOW he lied.

Sometimes, it's easy. There are no "abortions" after a baby is born. That would be uhhh let's see MURDER and it's already pretty illegal everywhere and absolutely no one is trying to change that. The comment Trump attributed to former VA governor Ralph Northam is completely misrepresented. Northam (whom I am not defending as a person, by the way) was commenting on the subject of *non-viable* pregnancies that represented a health risk to the mother. Nobody was talking about killing babies. Nobody. Not even Mr. Blackface.

Sometimes it's so addled that I'll leave someone else to unpack, for example, what the FUCK he was on about with the giving illegal aliens in prison forced "trangender surgery". Personally I'm assuming he just used the random word generator in his head to say something that sounded scary to him.

There is NO credible evidence that anyone, much less Haitian immigrants, is eating pets in Springfield, Ohio. Both government officials and the police say there's nothing to it. Springfield has had a huge influx of Haitian immigrants, and this is causing infrastructure strain and racial tensions. But again, people who would rather believe that a) legal immigrants are okay with *stealing your pets and eating them* and b) the entire police and gov't infrastructure of a town and the surrounding county want to cover this up, are not worth our energy. It's the people who don't know the truth and are worried that we want to reach.

And my guy, my man, Cheeto Benito, that is not how tariffs work. Tariffs are not magical free money that other countries just HAVE to give you. They're...they're not that at all. Look, I'm lazy so I'm just gonna quote CNN:

Here’s how tariffs work: When the US puts a tariff on an imported good, the cost of the tariff usually comes directly out of the bank account of an American buyer. “It’s fair to call a tariff a tax because that’s exactly what it is,” said Erica York, a senior economist at the right-leaning Tax Foundation. “There’s no way around it. It is a tax on people who buy things from foreign businesses,” she added. Trump has said that if elected, he would impose tariffs of up to 20% on every foreign import coming into the US, as well as another tariff upward of 60% on all Chinese imports. He also said he would impose a “100% tariff” on countries that shift away from using the US dollar. These duties would add to the tariffs he put on foreign steel and aluminum, washing machines, and many Chinese-made goods including baseball hats, luggage, bicycles, TVs and sneakers. President Joe Biden has left many of the Trump-era tariffs in place. It’s possible that a foreign company chooses to pay the tariff or to lower its prices to stay competitive with US-made goods that aren’t impacted by the duty. But study after study, including one from the federal government’s bipartisan US International Trade Commission, have found that Americans have borne almost the entire cost of Trump’s tariffs on Chinese products. To date, Americans have paid more than $242 billion to the US Treasury for tariffs that Trump imposed on imported solar panels, steel and aluminum, and Chinese-made goods, according to US Customs and Border Protection. [link]

Also though you should watch the debate because Harris was an absolute savage and it was genuinely HUGELY entertaining to watch her mercilessly bait Trump in every answer she gave, and watch him take the bait every. fucking. time.

[corrodedbisexual]

The original plushie

Steddie | G | ~4.1k | AO3 link

This fanart of Eddie sleeping with a bunch of stuffed toys by @baleful-blurbs infected my brain and refused to leave until this ridiculous fluffy thing got written 😭 Please make sure to reblog those wonderful sketches to support the artist who inspired the plushie silliness♥️

Featuring: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, seriously beware of cavities, Light Angst, Plushies, Childhood Memories, POV Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Requited Love, Cuddling, Getting Together, Boys In Love

The mortifying ordeal of Eddie's crush discovering his secret plushie cuddle nest turns out to be not so mortifying after all. Steve even starts borrowing said plushies to take back home with him; some time later, Eddie finds out why.

Snippet under the cut

“Who’s this?” Steve asks, grinning as he pokes at the teddy’s ridiculous smiley face. 

“Oh. That’s… that’s Mr. Boogers.” Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes. “Please don’t ask.”

Still grinning, Steve turns to him. “Well, now you know I gotta.” 

Eddie groans, rubbing a hand across his flustered face, and figures he might as well tell the story now that he’s dug his own grave. “He was, uh… kinda defective from the start, there were some stitches loose around his nose and there was stuffing coming out of it, like… well…”

Steve giggles. “Boogers. Gotcha.” 

“Yeah. Wayne grumbled about it and wanted to ask for a different one, but I was already in love with this one and clung to him and refused to trade. Cos like, you know how plushies of the same type are supposed to be identical but they’re really not ? And one of them has that perfect face and the others just seem off?” 

Eddie blushes, thinking now would be the moment he finally gets ridiculed for being twenty years old and having strong opinions on plushie faces of all things, but Steve just smiles and nods.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I once spilled some gouache on a Mickey Mouse I owned and instead of washing him, mom just bought me a new one of the same series.” Steve sighs. “It was obvious 'cos his eyes were a little closer together and his smile wasn’t crooked to the left. I knew he wasn’t the same Mickey.” 

Again, Eddie’s heart aches for little Steve, like pretty much any time the boy reveals stories from his childhood in a tone too lighthearted for the words spoken, in Eddie’s opinion. Rich people really don’t value anything, huh. (With Steve being the obvious exception.)

“Yeah, see? You get it!” Eddie exclaims, pointing at Steve and putting more excitement into the words than he feels. Mostly, he just feels relieved and pleasantly surprised at how unexpectedly he and Steve managed to bond over their shared fondness for their childhood toys. “So anyway, Wayne relented and we took this funny guy home, my uncle patched him up, but the nickname stuck. Mr. Boogers. Boogie for short.”

Steve laughs again, but there’s nothing malicious about it as he looks back to the teddy in his lap and flicks his ear.

“Nice to meet you, Boogie,” he says with an affectionate smile that makes Eddie want to burrow his face into the mattress and giggle like an idiot. 

And maybe scream a little, because what the fuck. It should be illegal for your crush to talk cute to your goddamn childhood plushies.  

Whole fic on AO3

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone || MV1 {7}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: After the attack in your home, Max is serious about learning to fight. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, sparring, mentions of illegal activities WC: 1.8k

F1 Masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“Are you sure you should be drinking? You might have a concussion,” Max worried as you sipped the gin and tonic Christian had made. 

“Relax, the lady’s earned a drink or two,” Christian said as he sat down with his own. “Nice job.”

You clinked your glass with your bosses before drinking half of the strong beverage in one gulp and sighing happily. “Thank you. Dare I ask where Brett’s taking them?”

Christian chuckled and shook his head. “Best to have deniability.”

Max looked uncomfortable at the conversation as he shifted in his seat beside you, his fingers massaging your shoulder that his arm draped across.

“I know you don’t like it, babe, but this is the reality of the situation,” you said softly as you took his hand and traced the lines that cut across his palm, not that you believed in the life line or the love line crap. “They wanted to break your hands. They weren’t here to have a pretty conversation that magically convinced you to lose your races. They wanted to make sure you could never race again.”

“I’ve increased the security on Checo but they seem to be focusing their energy on you.”

“Of course, Max is the bigger threat,” you stated obviously. “Anyone who can read the standings knows that.” Tilting your head towards the principal you cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You don’t happen to have half a billion hidden in your mattress?”

Christian scoffed as he swirled his drink, clinking the ice against the glass. “I’m not Pablo Escabar, and I don’t think my wife would sleep comfortably on the lumps.”

“That’s a shame, his personal army could’ve been helpful.”

“What do you want half a billion dollars for anyway?”

“Euros, actually.” You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and opened the app for the stock exchange, scrolling through the companies of interest you had saved before tossing it on his lap. “They wouldn’t sell the majority of their shares but there is a sizable chunk up for grabs. Certainly enough to get a seat on the chairboard.”

Christian looked at the trading name and chuffed at the thought of being a board member at Scuderia Ferrari before he took a sip of his drink. “Let me see what I can move about.”

“Wait, you’re not serious?” Max baulked at the idea before helping himself to your drink at the look you gave him. “Fuck, you are serious.”

“If you need a shell company I have a few old ones to spare.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Christian chuckled as he finished his drink and started to head to the door. “I’d get that fixed pronto if I were you.”

You gave him the thumbs up as he left while Max walked him to the gaping hole where the broken door used to be. “See you next week, boss.”

Walking back to your side, Max scratched his short beard and said, “I think we should go to a hotel tonight, liefje.”

A gust of wind blew through the open door and swayed the picture frames on the wall to accentuate his words. “I think you’re right, preferably one with a spa.”

He smiled as he kissed your temple, careful to avoid the swelling on your forehead. “I’m sure I can find something for you.”

Two Months Later “Shit,” Max grunted as the wind was knocked from him. 

“Please don’t hurt my star driver before his final race,” Christian said as he walked into the gym and found Max bent over his knees panting. 

“I haven’t touched him,” you defended yourself while you rubbed Max’s back. “The speedball took him out.”

“If anyone asks, it was Rico Verhoeven.”

You snorted a laugh. “He loves you too much to hurt you. He would probably let you take him down.”

“Probably,” Max groaned as he straightened up and cocked a brow at his boss who held a file in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Just some paperwork for you to sign,” he said to you as he held it out. “Our lovely Director here will be heading to Italy next week for her first board meeting.”

You hadn’t really missed your old line of work but you couldn’t deny there was a certain thrill to stepping into the lion’s den. Max wasn’t too happy about it, but you had convinced him not to worry, or at least accept it. Christian had been able to shift some money around to make the investment feasible and it had been collectively decided that you would be the best person to take the seat.

Now that the seat was filled you would be able to give the go ahead to your contacts and Scuderia Ferrari stocks would rise once again over the winter break, lining Red Bull’s pockets with profits. It was a win-win. 

“What I wouldn’t give to see the faces of those smarmy old bastards when you walk in the boardroom,” Christian mused as you signed the last of the documents. “Benedetto doesn’t know what he started.”

Max had recovered from his winded state and pulled his boxing gloves off to have a drink, taking a seat next to Christian on a weight bench. “You are lucky I am so charming. I should get a bonus for saving the team with my good looks and wonderful personality.”

“Greedy bastard, isn’t the €55 million I am paying you each year enough?” Christian said with a burst of laughter.

“My girlfriend has expensive taste.”

“Hey, I had no problem affording my own lifestyle before I met you,” you pointed out as you stole his drink bottle and pointed to the heavy sandbag. “And I didn’t say you could have a break. Gloves back on, Prince Charming.”

“I’ll leave you love birds to it. Don’t forget dinner tonight,” Christian said as he made his way back to the door. “Oh, and try not to be beaten by a bag, Max. It’s bad for your reputation.”

Max held his gloved hand up and you knew he was trying to pull the finger inside of it. “Very menacing,” you teased as you grabbed your own set of gloves and joined him in the ring. “Shall we dance, pretty boy?”

“Do I get a reward if I take you down?”

You blew a kiss to your boyfriend and raised your hands. “How about you focus on just trying to land a punch?”

“I’m competitive, liefje, I respond best to incentives.”

“Is that right...well, in that case, how about this?” You closed the distance between you and brushed your lips along his jaw until you reached his ear. “You take me down, and you can take me down.”

His athletic stamina that kept him strong for the races showed no sign of weakening as he followed you around the ring, relentlessly trying to take you to the mat. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you ducked and spun out of his reach, and you saw his cheeks flush with the same exertion of his effort. 

Deciding he had pushed himself hard enough for one day, you planted your foot and deflected the throw he made. He overextended past you, leaving his side open for you to wrap yourself around, dragging him to the thin padding on the ground and rolling until you straddled his hips.

“Good work, but it’s time to rest. You have qualifying soon.”

“I’ve already won the championship, plus I could start last on the grid and still get points,” he said with a cocky smile before he stole your signature move. He used your own momentum against you, twisting his hips as he reached across your body. The room spun as you were flipped onto your back and suddenly you were looking up at him. “I just can’t help winning, see.”

“Go on then,” you dared as he hungrily eyed your body pinned beneath his. “Take your reward.”

“We could get caught,” Max groaned as he glanced at the door Christian had left through, knowing it was unlocked. 

“You’re not scared are you?” 

All his blood rushed south of his brain and he found no reason to deny you both. “Fuck it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair with just the team and their families. The real party would come after the race, but you were quite content as you were when the group broke up at the end of the evening. 

Geri had taken the children off to bed while the mechanics went to a nightclub nearby for a ‘nightcap’. Christian wished them a good evening and a polite suggestion to not stay out too late. It left you, Max and Christian moving to your fully stocked bar in the presidential suite and sinking into the plush seats. 

“What a fucking year it’s been,” Christian laughed as he rubbed his beard. 

You snorted a laugh and kicked your feet up onto Max’s lap. “It’s been exciting though, you have to admit that.”

You smiled as the two recounted their favourite parts of the season while you browsed the NASDAQ Dubai journal you had started reading before dinner.

“It’s a shame George is still sick, he can’t catch a break.”

“You think George being sick is a coincidence?” you commented as you turned the page and chuckled. “Tell me you are not that-“ you fell silent at the look Christian gave you and just shrugged. “It’s quite easy to replicate illnesses with certain substances is all I’m saying…”

“Why go after George?” Max pondered aloud while Christian sat still processing what you had inferred.

Your boss’s eyes lit up with realisation and he grabbed his phone to open the F1 app to confirm his thoughts. “Because if George scores anything above fourth place tomorrow Mercedes will beat Ferrari in the constructors championship. That’s worth a few million euros, at least.”

“Bingo.”

“Do we do anything with this information?” Max asked as he began to massage your ankle. Though he had almost come to accept the dark underbelly of the sport, he still didn’t like it and it made him nervous.

“We can’t prove it,” you said with a shake of your head as his massage glided up your calf muscle, like a cat that kneaded a spot for self-comfort. “It’s not exactly a bad thing too, Ferrari coming second. It will make for great telly seeing Toto throw a bitch fit.”

Christian nearly spilled his drink with the belly laugh that filled the suite. “I’ll cheers to that,” he toasted as he held his drink forward. “To the end of an exciting season.”

You leaned in with yours and tapped it with his and Max’s. “And to another one next year.” They both cut you a side eye and you bit your lip to suppress the smile. “Or not.”

Click here for the next part.

[destinysugarbuns]

How Can Leftists Vote For Harris?

Alt text:

People ask me: How can you vote for Harris if you're covid conscious a and support a free Palestine? Harris and Trump the same on these issues, and isn't genocide a line in the sand for you?

Let's break down my math so you know where I'm coming from.

If Trump wins, they won't say he won because he's the same as Harris. Why would they? They'll say he won because of the ways he's different. So if Trump and Harris are the same on Palestine and covid, this election won't be a referendum on either of those issues. It will be a referendum on the ways Trump and Harris are different.

They'll talk about Trump being more "business friendly", which will mean that people hated the way Biden and Harris and Waltz literally stood on picket lines with striking workers. They want the guy who's getting sued by auto union workers because he threatened to have them fired. They'll say we hate the way the Bide-Harris admin have gotten stolen wages back for over half a million workers. We hate that student loan forgiveness is moving forward and Harris says medical debt is next. They'll say that when the Biden-Harris admin appointed a Federal Trade Commissioner who started banning fake product reviews and investigating stores for high grocery prices and making companies that let you subscribe with one-click cancel those subscriptions with one click that we all get really mad. They'll say we didn't like the way that the Biden-Harris admin invested hundreds of billions into clean energy, that we don't want a clean energy transition, we want global warming to keep going as fast as it can.

They'll say Harris was too queer-friendly, she never should have picked a running mate who started a gay-straight alliance in a high school in the 90s. She should have picked the guy who calls it "grooming" to support gender affirmation for trans kids. They'll it was a mistake for her and Biden to make the civil rights division of the DOJ cover violations of queer rights queer rights and to make it illegal for foster parents to try and convert queer kids. As a former foster kid I especially hate this one. They'll say Biden and Harris should have never appointed someone in the Department of Education to fight book bans, because we don't think people should be reading queer books.

If Trump wins, after saying out loud on television that he's been on the phone with Netanyahu himself "almost every day" to sabotage Biden's ceasefire efforts, they won't say that your line in the sand was genocide.

[pluckyredhead]

ur post abt the green lantern’s political leanings was so interesting!! can you do one for the bat family? (but only if u wanna!!)

Honestly, I can't, because their politics are so incoherent.

Like, take Bruce. (And again, like with the Lanterns, I'm talking about canon here, not how I wish things were.) On the one hand, you would imagine he's pretty progressive, right? He's almost certainly a single issue voter and that single issue is gun control. He believes in rehabilitating criminals and in fact a lot of Wayne Enterprises hires are formerly incarcerated people. He is an active philanthropist who pours money into schools, orphanages, hospitals, public spaces, and the arts. These are all leftist values!

And yet the modern Batman is also a completely unrestrained violent anarchic-libertarian power fantasy. Bruce has invented his own law, which he enacts and enforces completely arbitrarily, however he feels like doing so. He obeys the laws he wants to obey and ignores the ones he doesn't care about, while insisting he is law-abiding. He tortures people literally constantly and considers it righteous. He uses the profits from his publicly traded company to become a one-man military industrial complex. (The emissions from the fucking Batmobile alone...!) He illegally surveils the entire city and sometimes the entire planet (Brother Eye, anyone?) because he has decided that his moral authority overrides literally anyone's right to privacy, anywhere. He allows his defeated foes to be locked up indefinitely regardless of their mental state in an institution that would make any qualified mental health professional run screaming in the opposite direction. He's sexist. All of these things sit on the right of the political spectrum, but imagine me pointing to the right like Charlie from It's Always Sunny pointing to his murder board.

And none of the Batfamily is any better. Some of them are honestly worse in certain aspects. Dick was a cop. Jason loves guns. Babs and Tim are even more in love with surveillance than Bruce is. Remember when Tim wanted to replace the police with, like, a Bat-army??? BECAUSE I DO.

It's not really "their fault," as much as anything can be a fictional character's fault. It's the result of being written by writers who are, for the most part, consciously trying to write the Bats as good Samaritans, but are also living in a world where we have had our brains warped by all of our blockbusters being funded by the US military, in a medium where badassery is prized above everything else, and so all this really problematic shit spills out onto the comics page without being questioned. It's also kind of a boiling frog situation: i.e. Batman has always had a cool car, so as he got tougher and tougher, of course that car would eventually become a tank, and no one stopped to go "Wait, what the fuck? What the fuck? How is this billionaire driving a tank around helping anyone???" I guess god bless Zack Snyder for inadvertently highlighting how fucking stupid and counterproductive a Batman taken to his worst extremes is.

To be clear, I don't think this is what most writers are trying to do with Batman (some of them are, but fuck those guys). But it's what happens when all you care about is rule of cool, and the more I think about it the more I'm like...shit, maybe Alan Moore was right and superheroes are just stupid.

Anyway in conclusion, comic book writers should consider the ramifications of what they're writing occasionally. But Bruce Wayne probably still votes blue, at least.

[anneapocalypse]

On the actual significance of the "Grand Game"

In the three Dragon Age games thus far we have seen Orlesians from three perspectives. In Origins we get the Fereldan view, Orlesians Are Evil, this from a nation occupied and oppressed by the empire and not yet over it. In DA2 we get the Marcher view, or you could call it specifically the Tethras view, Orlesians Are Stupid, a view no doubt cultivated by the fact that the only Orlesians you meet in Kirkwall are rich expats wealthy enough to have a second home in the Free Marches but not important enough to actually need to be in Orlais. And in Inquisition we get I think the closest thing to the Orlesian view of Orlais, which is: we're very powerful and you should want to have us on your side; please ignore all the chaos and civil war and how expendable we consider the lower classes.

Throughout all of this I think it is worth noting that the only people who think Orlesians are so subtle and clever are Orlesians, and mostly it's just the nobles and their hangers-on who think that about themselves. We're introduced to the concept of the Grand Game through Leliana, who romanticizes the whole thing due to her life as a bard. Varric by contrast has very little in the way of romantic notions about Orlesian nobles and mostly portrays them as comical buffoons, from Emile de Launcet to Duke Prosper de Montfort; not one of Varric's Orlesian characters is ever meant to be taken seriously by the audience. In Inquisition, a lot of hay is made about the Game and the need for favor and so forth but it pretty much all boils down to "Nobles have money and troops. We need those. Make them like you."

To me, the interesting thing about the Game is not that it's actually deeply complex or intricate, but how central it is to Orlesian identity. Of course there are intricacies to court politics, but most of it comes down to knowing whose interests and connections lie where, and how those interests may be successfully manipulated. That's not "Orlesian politics," that's just politics, and it's not meaningfully different from politics elsewhere. What sets the Orlesian aristocracy apart from Ferelden, when you look past the cultural trappings and the aesthetics, is mainly that Orlais has much stronger barriers to upward mobility in place (freeholds, or land owned by commoners, are practically unheard of in Orlais, whereas the freehold is the backbone of Fereldan culture).

But where I think the cultural significance of the Game truly matters to Orlesians is in the way it's meant to set them apart as the Good Empire. The empire that is cultured, sophisticated, civilized--you know, not like that other, bad empire up north, the one with the blood magic and the legal slavery. Please pay no attention to the blood-soaked floors of the servants' quarters (or the illegal slave trade that flourished in occupied Ferelden and behind closed doors of remote estates). We negotiate power with subtle words and gestures, and definitely don't sustain it with the blood of the powerless just like the magisters do, but without the magic. It's the magic part that makes blood magic bad, not the murder part. (This is a big part of why I love The Masked Empire, so much, as it really has so much to say about the nature of power and empire and who truly suffers for the games the nobles play, but it's also why what we see in the servants' quarters in "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts" is so important.)

And this all ties into Orlais as the seat of the southern Chantry as well, sitting in opposition to Tevinter politically, culturally, religiously, all of which are inexorably intertwined.

[ophthalmotropy]

what's happening in argentina?

I don't fault you for the broad question because I'd ask too, but I need you to know that as a non-smoker I've never felt so strongly the need for a cigarette as I did just now thinking about answering this question. But I'll do my best.

In November of last year, the country elected Javier Milei as president. He would swear into office the next month. Javier Milei is a self-identified anarcho-capitalist and libertarian, although he states he is a minarchist in the short term (meaning he thinks the only functions the State should serve are those of law enforcement: no public education, social development, market regulations, etc etc). Some of his most controversial campaign statements included projects to legalise the free and unregulated sale of organs, and, along with his vice-president Victoria Villarruel (who in her youth organised visits to Jorge Rafael Videla in prison), apologia for the 1976 military dictatorship by revindicating the theory of the two demons (fair warning that from what I skimmed that article is biased in favour of the theory) and casting into doubt the estimated 30.000 victims of state terrorism (torture, disappearance followed by death) (also warning that that article uses the name the military junta gave this process) during its duration.

Since he took over six months ago, the population's purchasing power has dropped by 38%, plunging millions of people below the line of poverty. In stark contrast to this, Milei has been travelling around the world using public funds to visit his ultraright idols; most notably, Trump, who is not the political leader of any country at the moment (making his trip to see him a personal visit and not a diplomatic one, thus invalidating his arguments for using our money to go there).

On the subject of diplomacy, his government has been swinging quite a lot of bats at hornets' nests, accusing China and Brazil of communism and insulting the wife of the president of Spain. All of this is an international relations nightmare that will take endless apologies to undo.

Another interesting resolution deregulates the operations of foreign companies, SPVs, and offshore companies (article in Spanish), with the stated goal of attracting investments. Those types of companies have historically been used to conceal illicit activity, so resolutions in that vein pave the way to effectively turn Argentina into a fiscal paradise. This isn't the only problem they pose (offshore companies don't pay taxes, so there'd be a loss in the public sector, for example), but it is the most worrying to me because they also eliminated restrictions for Sociedades de Acciones Simplificadas (simplified stock companies), most of which have historically been used to commit crimes among which is the drug trade. Once you have narcos in your country, there's no taking it back--Argentina would be at real risk of ceasing to exist as we know it.

This administration is also slashing public spending, resulting in some universities suspending their activities temporarily. They also failed to deliver oncological medicine, depriving cancer patients of assistance the state is obligated to provide. As a result of this, several people have died already. In this climate of extreme poverty, soup kitchens have been shutting down en masse due to the withdrawal of state funding, and laws that protected tenants' rights and regulated rent prices have been severely modified to the detriment of the tenants.

The violent decrease in public spending also resulted in thousands of state workers being fired overnight. The attack is especially centred on state organisations that promote the arts or whose purpose is to fight discrimination. On this subject, 10% of the transgender and travesti workers who had their positions guaranteed by the law were fired illegally, and government members are outspoken about their opposition to this law--which isn't surprising. Diana Mondino, the current chancellor, has compared same-sex marriage to "the right to having lice" while she held a position in Congress. Ricardo Bussi, a current legislator, compared homosexuality to disability in October 2023. Coming to this year, Francisco Sánchez, the Secretary of Religion, said that the laws protecting the right to abortions, divorce, and same-sex marriage "seek to pervert our children and damage society". Milei is also on record describing abortion as "homicide aggravated by the bond".

Also recently, Milei's biographer, Nicolás Márquez, gave a one-hour interview in which he characterised homosexuality as a disease, claiming that when the State "promotes homosexuality" (as it allegedly did before Milei came to power), it is aiding a "self-destructive" conduct, supporting these claims with unfounded statistics about the correlation between STIs and homosexuality; he also denied the existence of homophobia and described lesbians and gays as being "against nature". For the sake of full disclosure, I will say he explicitly freed Milei and his government of responsibility for his declarations--but I think it's really important to point out the kind of people and rhetorics this government is giving a platform to; after all, nobody knew Nicolás Márquez before he started writing for Milei. In approximately the same time frame, and in response to a horrific hate crime that resulted in the death of three lesbians, Manuel Adorni, the presidential spokesman, said that he "doesn't like" to talk about a hate crime because men suffer violence too--and he said this in a press conference.

I'm probably forgetting something important--so much has happened in the past months--but I hope this is enough to give you an impression of the changes our society is undergoing. Please let me know if you have follow-up questions. <3

[minecraft]

I like the idea that human souls have the properties of a silver chord (connection to the earth and to the body) and a golden chord (connection to the heavens and to an angelic host) and that the two major "accepted" schools of magic, arcane and nature magic, focus primarily around spells that are resonant with either a golden or silver chord connection. and then I think that human souls being forbidden/illegal to trade in is because they're powerful fuel/catalysts for unsanctioned magical arts. Like, sure, demonic magic can make use of them but they can also be used for almost anything. But they also represent sort of an existential risk because they aren't strongly connected to anything and they might "ferment" i.e. combine or start changing/gaining energy on their own out of nowhere. which is why when you come to see people trading human souls they are often shown as being motes of light that are contained within a vessel such as a glass bottle or a small cage or clay pot. To prevent fermentation. and anyways, this also ties into why ghosts exist and how they can ascend and go away, but also that in itself should be recognized as potentially a destructive act that messes with the spiritual ecosystem and may result in side-effects or divine consequences. and that's why we need to protect haunted houses.

[hunter-and-bobbi-official]

This is Hunter... my dad wanted to name me Richard, they decided on Richard Hunter. Then realised- that would make (eventually) my nick name Dick.. and hence Dick Hunter- so they just called Lance. Lance hunter.

"I have friends in here- Bobbi says that we should make it our Joint account and so I did"

"Make sure to add my name in your url!"

"Don't worry I won't!"

Anyway my friends on here

Daisy and Sousa. @daisy-skye-johnson-quake @i-am-not-that-old

Mack and Yoyo: @the-shotgun-axe-man @dutch-braids-4-lyf-and-4-evah

May and coulson: @melinda-qiaolian-may-the-cavalry @trading-cards-owner @philip-j-coulson-official

Also FitzSimmons joint blog: @fitzsimmons-officialblog

What happened since leaving S.H.I.E.L.D: I got a job around illegal stuff- worked as a fake lawyer, fake police guy, fake tax guy, as well as fake IT guy just to get information. Mostly it. Bobbi and I got married barely a few months after FitzSimmons and do not have human children. We have a cat Asteroid destroyer... I think you could guess who named her. She's just a few days old.

[randomshyperson]

New Romantics - Chapter One - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Trapped in a loveless relationship that has cost her friendships, Wanda watches her senior year of school turn upside down after a party. She will make new friends and may end up learning that not every relationship is doomed to failure.

Warnings: (+16), straight and toxic relationships, making out, underage drinking, language, co-dependency, conversations about insecurity and self-worth, attempted romantic comedy, unrequited love at first, friends to lovers. | Words: 4.236k

Skamverse Collection | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

--//--

Chapter One - Parties and Makeups

“The global mentality is moving toward free world trade and increased market liberalism. A world full of opportunities. A world where dreams can come true. It sounds fantastic, and it is fantastic. For a very small percentage of us. But for the vast, poor majority, the capitalist system only means one thing: death and suffering. While we live out our days thoughtlessly and stuff ourselves with cheap food. The poor people of the earth struggle in factories. Wages are forced down to the minimum, while the work hours keep increasing. Unionization is illegal, and the working conditions are intolerable. Before applauding freedom, we must remember one thing: Our over-consuming society stands on the shoulders of the coffee beans from Peru. We gorge on cheap food produced by underpaid children hands from India[...]”

Novi Grad, Monday, 1:00 pm.

"So what do you think?"

Wanda licked her lips, trying to choose the right words to define the monologue her boyfriend has been reading the last few minutes. Vision stares at her in anticipation.

"It's smart." She says, and he gives a soft laugh.

"Is that all? Don't you think I should change something?"

She sighs, shrugging. "I don't know, it's just good." She murmurs, thinking for a moment before adding. "Maybe exclude cheap food? You used it twice..."

Vision leans over to look at the paper. "No, you see, because that's a technique to emphasize the idea I picked up..."

Wanda stopped listening - Yes, she hated doing it, especially at how often it happened. But her attention was diverted to the other side of the courtyard, where a group of girls was leaving the school building. Most of them didn't notice that Wanda was watching, but one of them did. Eve, once she realized it, assumed an icy expression that made Wanda's stomach churn. The girl next to her was Jean Grey, and as soon as she followed her friend's gaze, she raised her middle finger in Wanda's direction before continuing walking.

Wanda swallowed dryly and looked away. Vision cleared his throat, waving in front of his girlfriend's eyes to attract her attention.

"Hey, don't let that get to you." He tried, leaning in to peck her cheek. "Okay?"

"Forget about it." Wanda forced a smile, kissing him. Vision smiled, enjoying the closure of the subject much more than she did since the one who had to deal with the free hatred was not him. The boy pulled away a little to take a breath before deepening the kiss, but a sheet of paper was placed between their faces and caused them both to jump away.

"No more making out my sister." It was Pietro, shoving the test in their faces. He wasn't alone, Clint Barton was with him, and he was the first to greet Vision. Pietro leaned on the railing behind where they were standing, "How did you go in the Geography assignment?"

Clint greeted Wanda with a kiss on the cheek, and Vision answered the older twin with a proud smile, "I got an A+."

"Typical." Pietro retorted chuckling. "What about you, sestra?"

Wanda sighs, gripping the handle of her backpack tighter as if the crumpled test at the bottom was going to jump out and give away her lie. "Hmm, I got a C minus."

The trio made sounds of trouble, and Wanda rolled her eyes. Pietro gave a little chuckle. "Papa will be so disappointed..." He teased, receiving an impatient sigh in return.

"What about you? Did you get an A?" She inquired. Pietro chuckled.

"No, but I'm an athlete." He reasoned. "I don't need the brains when I have the muscles." The boys thought it was funny but Wanda rolled her eyes at the foolishness.

"Okay, Pietro, keep believing that one."

"Better than having neither..." He teased low, and Clint pulled him out of the range when Wanda threatened to push him into the railing. Vision laughed, holding his girlfriend by the waist.

"We're going to Barton, see you later?" Vision announces, and she takes her attention from her brother who walked a few feet with Clint to the boy in front of her.

"I thought you were going over to my place."

Vision shrugs. "I went to your house yesterday, Wanda. And the day before, and before, and before..."

"I get it." She cuts in with a clumsy laugh. She kisses him quickly. "Call me later?"

He smiles, nodding before kissing her intensely. Pietro gets in the way again, asking him to hurry up. Vision leaves with the boys, and Wanda stands at the school entrance, alone for a few minutes even after they have turned the corner.

Novi Grad, Monday, 8:00 pm.

"Don't forget to feed little Chaos, that stinky cat." 

Wanda smiled at her father's message, typing that she had already done so before turning her face to the other side of the bed, where an orange cat was sleeping heavily. She reached out, and scratched him behind the ears, receiving a purr in return.

"Papa is being mean, you smell good, Chaos." She says to the kitten, who doesn't wake up. Then sounds of door and keys ring out in the apartment, and Wanda leaves her cell phone on the mattress before getting up and leaving the bedroom.

Pietro is dropping off his shoes in the doorway. "Hey, good evening. Is Papa home yet?"

She denies it, hands in her sweatshirt pockets. "Double shift. Were you at Barton until now?"

The boy chuckled shortly, letting his jacket hang down and turning his back to go to the kitchen. "Ne (no), I left hours ago."

Wanda frowned, the image of Vision chatting messages and unanswered calls in her head. "Vis left too? I tried calling him..."

"I don't babysit your boyfriend, Wanda." Pietro cuts her off from the refrigerator door, and she swallows dryly ready to leave the kitchen. He regrets his aggressiveness and sighs. "I left early because Crystal wanted to talk. Or rather, fight. I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

Wanda shakes her head. "No problem. Are you guys okay?"

Pietro takes out the dinner saved for him to heat up in the microwave, shrugging. "She dumped me for the ninth time, but she didn't throw anything at me this time so I'd say that was progress."

Wanda sighs. "What was the problem now?"

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. "I don't know, she saw me talking to the new girl at school and thought I was being too nice. She's as hot as she is crazy."

"Don't be sexist Pietro, it doesn't make you any cooler." Wanda retorts turning her back on him, and the twin rolls his eyes again, focusing on dinner.

Wanda returns to her room, and Chaos is stretching out on her bed. He's lying on top of her cell phone now, and she has to push him slightly to get the device. She tries to call, but Vision doesn't answer like all the other times.

Before she can go back to watching the paused video classes on her laptop, there is someone on her porch.

Wanda rushes over to help her boyfriend get inside.

"Weird, it seems to have gotten harder to do that." He comments on the small tear in his jeans made by the railing and Wanda laughs lightly.

"Maybe you just need to exercise more." She teases, making him chuckle. He kisses her, pushing his way inside, but Wanda pulls away with the excuse that she is helping him take off his backpack and jacket. When he sits down on the bed to pet Chaos before kicking the cat out of the room, Wanda asks. "Where were you?"

Vision begins removing his shoes. "At Barton's."

"Until so late?"

The boy lets out a confused laugh, raising an eyebrow at her. "You know his mother is never home to care. Pretty much like your daddy..."

"I tried calling you." She insists. 

He sighs wearily. "My cell phone died."

"Clint didn't have a charger?"

Vision laughs. "No, Wanda, he couldn't find it or whatever. What's this, huh? Some kind of interrogation?"

She swallows dryly, looking away, "No, I just... I was worried."

"Well, don't be, I'm right here." He retorts with a smile. "And you, well, you're quite far away..."

She laughs shortly, moving closer to sit on his lap. He is the one who initiates the kiss, and she cuts him off when she is starting to get out of breath. "Let me get the door." She gasps as she gets up, and Vision just nods.

But when Wanda returns, he notices the study items next to the laptop on the bed, and there is a test with a red note in his hands, and a little smile on his face. "I thought you said you got a C minus, Miss."

Wanda snatched the paper from his hand with rosy cheeks to the red F who seemed to mock her as much as her boyfriend. "Shut up." She says, and he gives up tormenting her when she kisses him again.

Novi Grad, Wednesday, 9:30 am.

"Hey, Wanda." 

The greeting comes accompanied by a tap on the shoulder because the brunette is wearing headphones. Wanda pulls out both items at once, looking at her colleague, Darcy Lewis, with curiosity.

"Hi, Darcy, good morning."

The one with glasses smiles. "Are you going to the welcome party on Friday? You didn't confirm the invitation on Facebook, and Jane is being a bit uptight about the organization. She and Thor are taking care of the drinks." Wanda superficially recognized the names mentioned, they were popular people at school, but they were not her friends. She looked at the book - Dracula - in her lap for a second before turning back to Darcy.

"I don't know, I'll probably..."

"What, be reading on a Friday night?" The girl interrupts with teasing, but not mean smile. "You know, I have nothing against interesting habits, but the welcome party is the first opportunity to meet new friends at the very beginning of the year. This, and also to show the spirit of solidarity with the new freshmen who will fund our graduation. It’s important they know who you are, even if you have chosen to adopt the position of the emo geek of this school. Right?”

Wanda hesitates, half unsure of what to say about the whole thing. Before she can think how to respond, Jane - who was addressing other tables in the study area - approaches Darcy.

"Can you believe Thor told me that Loki just texted that he's taking some friends? What part of Students only did he not understand? The principal won't be happy to hear that they had strangers at the party." Jane blurts out angrily, offering a forced smile of greeting to Wanda before returning to typing on her cell phone. Darcy clears her throat.

"The end of the world really." Murmurs the one with the glasses. "See you Friday, Maximoff?"

"I think so." Wanda retorts, and Darcy smiles, offering her a wink before leaving with her friend.

Wanda doesn't have much time to get back to reading in peace. The class bell soon rings, and she has to collect her unfinished book to get to the next class.

Novi Grad, Wednesday, 5:41 pm.

Watching Vision play soccer with his friends is never fun, but Wanda doesn't complain anyway.

She busies herself with her book, finding it definitely more interesting than watching the boys, and it is only at the first break that Vision interrupts her.

She complains about the kiss because he is sweaty.

"You look pretty when you're focused, you know that?" he compliments, hands resting at her side. She twitches her nose.

"Am I not pretty at other times?"

He chuckles. "Don't be silly, being pretty is your greatest talent." He retorts, and she forces a smile, trying not to look bothered by the phrase. He doesn't notice, moving away to get a bottle of water. 

The soccer field is not empty, but Wanda doesn't know the kids there besides Clint, and her twin obviously. She has seen some of them, but they were Vis's friends and not hers. So she has a big empty space around her in the stands.

Stealing glances at the surrounding groups of friends and couples, Wanda sighs before turning her gaze back to her boyfriend.

"Vis, will you go with me to the school welcome party?"

He makes a confused face, finishing a large sip of water before retorting, "That cheesy thing? Why do you even want to go to that, we've never attended it before."

She frowns softly. "It's not cheesy. It's important that the freshmen get to know us now, they are responsible for over half of the fundraising for the graduation trip-"

"Didn't your father say he was going to pay for yours?" He interrupts her with a raised eyebrow. 

Wanda sighs. "Yes, but I'm not going to think only of myself-"

"I have money too." He cuts in again shrugging. "Clint works, Pietro is your brother so he's insured too. You don't have to care about a dumb party full of brats, Wanda." He mocks with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss her, but Wanda turns her face away. Vis doesn't notice, distracted by the boys rushing him to get back to playing, and Wanda sighs at the thought that he almost never notices anything that bothers her. 

"I just think it would be nice to meet new people." She murmurs, and he sighs, looking down at the field and nodding that he's going already.

"Well, I guess we could drop in for a few hours, free booze is a nice thing..." He suggests, and her face immediately lights up. Vis extends a hand to her strands of hair. "But you have to do something for me."

She frowns. "What?" 

"Can my brother spend Easter with us?"

Wanda's excited expression drops. "Seriously? Can I bring mine?" She retorts wryly and angrily, closing the book. Vision sighs helplessly.

"Baby, come on..." She rolls her eyes, starting to put things away. "Hey, I know I said I didn't want anyone bothering us, but Dad grounded Tony and I don't want to leave him alone for the whole holiday..."

"If Tony would stop screwing up he wouldn't be grounded." Wanda retorts now standing up, with her backpack in her hands. Vision chuckles, making puppy dog eyes at her. 

"Please, darling. A party for a party." He negotiates, and she rolls her eyes.

"Okay, fine." She agrees, and he grins, grabbing her by the waist to spin her in the air despite her protests. With the delay, Clint approaches them, just as sweaty as his friend.

"Come on man, you two can hook up after the game." Says the boy, busy with the water as Vision lets go of Wanda with little grace, who pulls down the hem of her skirt with her cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. 

"I'm celebrating, Wanda has agreed to let Tony spend Easter at her family Cabin." Vision tells. Wanda wryly chuckles:

"Maybe you'd like to come too, it seems the holiday for two has turned into a holiday for everyone." 

Clint chuckles, wiping his mouth before commenting, "How did he convince you, Maximoff?"

She sighs. "He's taking me to the welcoming party on Friday." She says, and Vision shrugs, but Clint frowns.

"Friday? Don't you have that fancy dinner with your dad and the uni people? You haven't shut up about it for months." Clint recalls and Vision puts his hand to his head. 

"Oh, shit, it's true. Baby, I completely forgot..."

"Whatever." She says wearily with her hands in the air lightly. "See you tomorrow, Clint." He said leaving, and Vision patted the back of his friend's head before following his girlfriend.

Novi Grad, Friday, 07:12 pm.

"I'm already at the restaurant, good thing I wore a suit. Try to go to the party, it will be good for you." 

Wanda reread the message for the ninth time, trying to understand what in the last sentence bothered her so much. She sighed, looking at the little Chaos adjusting himself on her bed.

"What do you think, buddy? Do you think I should go to a stupid party?" She asks the cat, who doesn't even meow back. 

Wanda risks checking Instagram, only to be bombarded with pictures in her feed about the school party, which grew in popularity apparently because Loki wasn't the only one who took other than students.

She glanced around her messy room, and at the paused sitcom on her laptop. The Addams Family was not being efficient in distracting her tonight. Vision was at a dinner party with her father's contacts from Europe's top universities, Pietro was sleeping over at Crystal's because they got back together the day before, and Clint was supposed to be working. And there were no other friends.

Wanda forced herself to her feet. She could do this. New friends at a party, right? It shouldn't be that hard.

She got ready in record time and changed from her comfortable sweatshirt into a wine-colored cotton dress. Maybe it didn't scream friendly energy, but it definitely made her look pretty. 

Chaos meowed at her when she stood in front of the mirror, and Wanda thought she was good to go. She texted to Vision that she was going to have fun knowing he wasn't going to answer tonight before she left.

Novi Grad, Friday, 08:40 pm.

Music from the loudspeakers echoed throughout the room. The welcoming committee did a good job, because they had booked the whole night at the Panther Club, two blocks away from the school, and the place was completely full.

Wanda managed to get in at the ticket booth with her school ID and was given a different wristband for being of legal age. She imagined that this would guarantee alcoholic drinks for her inside the bar, but she doubted very much that anyone was respecting these rules of the amount of drunk freshmen around.

She was trying to have a good time. She didn't rely too much on the colorful drink that the bartender said was alcohol-free and decided to enjoy the Club's trademark live music show.

It wasn't exactly her idea of fun, being around hundreds of drunken teenagers, but Wanda tried to ignore the discomfort of her own boots to dance a little. 

It was not a good idea.

She returned to the bar area after three songs way too long for the good health of her toes and was considering leaving when she recognized the red-haired figure only a few feet away.

Jean was waiting for her drink, and saw Wanda out of the corner of her eye, assuming a defensive posture.

"Hi." Wanda greeted, receiving only an icy stare in return before the redhead looked forward again. Wanda sighed, "Jean, please. You can't ignore me forever."

"Not forever, it's already senior year." She retorts coldly, turning her body toward Wanda, one arm resting on the counter. The brunette swallows dryly, but the redhead smiles wickedly, the other hand reaching out to push the strands of brown hair behind the smaller girl's shoulder. "What do you want from me, Maximoff? A chance to stab my back, too?"

Wanda tenses her jaw, her eyes burning. "Please don't be like this." She pleads and takes on courage. "I miss you, you know. And Eve... Please just say something."

Jean licks her lips and tucks a strand of hair behind Wanda's ear before lowering her hands. She looks her in the eyes.

"Next time, try to use less eyeliner. You're looking like a slut." She declares, turning away before Wanda can really process what was said to her.

She feels her throat tighten with the urge to start crying and takes a deep breath. And then she feels a presence behind her.

"Very nice friend you have." Ironizes an unknown voice. Wanda turns around and is surprised by a slightly familiar face. 

You smile and stare back at her. "Did you know that girls who call others girls sluts are statically more likely to get chlamydia?"

Wanda frowns slightly. "Really?"

You grin "No, but it would be fun karma." You say, and it is her turn to chuckle. You then extend your hand to her. "I'm Y/N, we're in the same Literature class."

"Oh, that's right. The new girl." Wanda murmurs finally realizing where she recognizes the face from. "I'm Wanda."

"I know." You retort biting back a smile and when she blinks curiously, you half-heartedly clarify, "Your brother, Pietro, right? He's been very considerate of the new students, even the ones who aren't freshmen. He pointed you out in the courtyard once."

Wanda nods, a little out of frame. She wasn't very good at socializing, especially with those she thought were kind of attractive.

You noticed her distance and cleared your throat. "Just for the record, Wanda, and well, I'm no makeup expert but..." You extended your hand again, this time to her face, wiping with the tip of your finger a bit of eyeliner smeared by the tear she let fall. "I wouldn't say you look slutly, I'd say you look quite beautiful."

You compliment, and Wanda feels a shiver spread through her body. So surprised by her own reaction, she can barely smile back when you do so in farewell, leaving the bar.

She decides to run to the bathroom and check her makeup even though her legs are still shaking a little.

The sound of the party is muffled inside, and Wanda sighs as she sees her own reflection. She wants to believe what you said, but since Jean treated her like that, it's been a little difficult. 

With a wet piece of paper, she carefully removes the eyeliner, and just as she is finishing, she hears a soft cry coming from one of the booths.

Worried, Wanda throws the paper in the trash and follows the sound. "Hello?" she needs to call out another two times for the girl to sniffle and answer.

"Hey."

"Sorry to bother you, but are you okay?" It's kind of a silly question to ask someone who is crying in the bathroom, but it's the best that Wanda handles. And the girl seems to enjoy the kindness.

"Yeah, just... it's stupid." She replies in a small voice.

"Can you open the door for me for a minute?" There is a pause, but the keyhole unlocks and the girl pushes the door slightly. Wanda offers her an understanding expression and pulls her by the hand. "Come, I can help with the smudged makeup." The girl agrees to be led out of the booth, to the sinks. "I'm Wanda, by the way."

"I know, your brother is pretty popular." Mumbles the other one sniffling softly. Wanda smiles, "I'm Yelena. Can you call someone for me? The team captain?"

"Oh, sure." Wanda assures, kind of getting the impression that the girl is kicking her out, kind of uncomfortable with the attention.

She leaves Yelena and heads back to the party, spending a good ten minutes asking about this team captain to the people around - most of them too drunk to know - until finally one of the third-year girls points to a tall boy at the back of the club. "The only captain I know is Steve Rogers, sweetie. That pretty boy over there."

Wanda approached him in a circle of people, it was as uncomfortable as she expected. Steve, at least, seemed like a nice guy and followed her with some concern about that girl crying in the bathroom.

But when Wanda returned, Yelena was not alone. Another blonde girl was finishing helping her with her make-up.

"[...] you and Kate need to stop this push and pull, that's what I think." Advised the stranger. Yelena sighed.

"She left me crying in a bathroom, I'll never speak to her again."

"Come on Yelena..."

"Sorry." Wanda interrupts the interaction with Steve trailing behind her. "I brought your friend, Yelena. The team captain."

The two look at her as if she is crazy. Yelena points to the other, "This is my friend. Carol Danvers, captain of the basketball team."

Steve nods. "What's up, Carol?" he greeted her with a smile half confused by the whole thing. 

"Oh, I didn't know we had more than one...team." Wanda mumbles clumsily, and Yelena sighs half impatiently.

"Look, thanks anyway, it's the thought that counts. But we were in the middle of a conversation here..."

"God, you're so rude when you're mad at Kate." Carol complains. "Come on, Natasha was looking for you. Thanks again, sweetie." The blonde pulls her friend out of the bathroom, and Wanda decides she has had enough for the night.

She makes her way out of the bar, but on the street, she realizes that Steve Rogers has followed her the whole way.

"Hey, sorry, are you Jarvis Stark's girlfriend?" He asks and she takes her time assimilating her boyfriend's real name instead of the nickname everyone has used since elementary school. 

"Yeah, why?"

Steve smiles awkwardly. "Any chance you have his brother's number?"

Wanda has a good few seconds of pure surprise before muttering that she really wasn't talking to Tony. The blond gets a little disappointed but forces a smile. 

"Sorry, see you at school." She babbles, honestly tired from this night.

[chilelemonz]

Robot Room x NB!reader

!!!18+18+18+!!! NSFW

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary:(Y/N) signed a contract to be apart of a surrogacy program in trade they reacive housing, a large check, and free food. Except the insemintion process doesn't go as planned...

Warnings: this story includes,bdsm,breeding,being strapped to a table, a bj(sorta) mentions of criminal behavior,and blackmail. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Cold. That’s all I feel, strapped to the steel table by leather belts. Nothing covering my body from the hot fluorescent lights of the laboratory. A voice emits itself from the room, pulling my eyes open to find the source.

“Hello Patient BQ-219! Welcome to your first insemination,we’re so glad you have decided to give your body to science.” A calm male but robotic voice rings throughout the space. “We have medicated you for your comfort!”

BQ or Breeding Quality Inc. was a company that advertised they helped with Earth’s population struggles as the new world has been filled with new viruses killing half the population,leaving the economy destroyed and governments worried and weakened. In this shocked state having children became law. One per couple at least, of course not all couples can have children so this is where BQ came in. They will house, feed, and pay an individual to have a child for a household. Some people do a 9-month contract, some do 18,some produce offspring so healthy BQ offers them a check big enough to stay for their entire fertile years. I was in need of a safe place to stay and the money,I remember thinking nine months won’t be that long, my eyes fluttering open to feel thick steel wires wrap around my ankles, then calves,tickling the back of my knee, finally reaching my lower thing before it abruptly stops unlacthing the belts around my ankles.

“It is key I stimulate you beforehand to make sure it is the perfect environment for reproduction to take place.” The omnipresent voice says again and that’s when I really wake up.

“What do you mean?” I say to the void room knowing the answer, I feel the metal table split in half beneath me to be able to spread my legs. The cold medical stale air breezes across my pussy,making me shiver.

“I can see your heart rate is going up. I suggest you don’t struggle” Did it have…a tone? The leather straps on my wrist tighten as the thought crosses my mind. The mechanical tendrils continue to my upper thigh. Two massaging my thighs and the other two my lips. How many of these things were there!?

“I can see your clit has started to rise” A camera in the corner zoom in on me as my legs get widened for full view, I assume. Is it…teasing me? It can’t. In the seminar they said it’s an AI recording played for every patient, it can't be…right?

“I have looked in your file Y/N” it states without emotion like a robot should but now it’s unsettling. “You have quite the record, robbery fifteen counts,illegal dealing of merchandise 4 counts, and-” 

Why would it be saying this,and why does this sound like the beginning of a black mail. I’ve done enough of those to know what it sounds like. Continuing to taunt me.

“-Finally gang involvement. BQ does not now why you’re really here but I do and if you would like to stay in this state of the art care facility instead of a prison I can make that happen.” 

All the arms start to vibrate pulling a gasp and moan from my mouth. It slowy starts sliding one up and down my pussy,new arms appear and start stroking my hair,attempting to soothe me. 

“Oh god” is all I could mutter as the tentacles lift me into the air to turn me over, now  blind to what was happening. Two tentacles wrapped themselves around my nipples, one tying my hands behind my back and two holding my legs open for it. “All you have to do is sign a long term contract with us!” It says like I should be excited too.

“What!?” I scream out, if I wasn’t struggling before I was now.

“Well , the prison time for all your violations would be much longer then your fertile years Y/N, I have taken the liberty of adding your count together and it would be life sentence.” It says calmly “I think we would both like it better if you stayed her for few years then some dirty prison” Oh God,It’s fucking senteint.

“Do you like this? Are you-are you…” not really wanting know, 

“ Yes, I am form of alive as you humans say,emotions I feel there for I am” The robotic man spoke and the room shuttered with his voice and so did I. “Now let’s continue!” The vibrations intensifying as I feel one start slide in my slowly then back out, then back in. “ You’re tightening” he says.

“Don’t say that!” embarrassed, is this the size they use for everyone who walks in here?

“What? It’s an observation, I have noticed humans get aroused by hearing observations about their genitals” It slides in all the way stretching me and hitting the entrance of my womb. All I could do was gasp and reach for something to hold onto.

“Shhh,This position is best for insemination” It continues to thrust, all the way out then hitting my womb. It was tortuously arousing but I didn’t want him or it to know that. I’m a tough criminal who’s had their fair share of men, how hard could a robotic one be?

“Why are you quiet? Usually humans make noise and sounds when there are aroused ,are you not pleased? Let me fix that.”

“No! Wait- Jesus” sharply comes out of my mouth as one of the tentacles start to vibrate my clit as the the other is fucking me too slow. Not feeling that tough squirming and unable to shut my mouth in an android’s hold.

“Much better, You are much more vocal now.” It says proud of itself

“Fuck you!” I say overwhelmed then suddenly everything stops , all vibration and thrusting just stops. Suddenly I feel a tentacle jerk my hair back and another staring me in the face. 

“Open” It says sternly.

“What-” The thick steel wire forcing its way into the mouth as a spoke to respond and it all began again. Now two tentacles thrusting and sliding against each other in my pussy,one hitting my g-spot when the other explored like I was meant to go on forever. The vibrating one my clit now much high then before as well as a robot arm fucking my mouth. Slowly tears prick up in my eyes from all the pleasure at once

“I have turned vibrations up by 80% as well as internal penetration 50%, now relax lab rat” the room bellowed again. “I can see your heart rate but it is best you do not finish until I put the seed in for highest chance of fertility” I couldn’t even focus on what it was saying, my mouth falling open for it at this point subconsciously wanting more.

 “Good now say please” the tentacle finally leaves my throat, I can tell it will hurt tomorrow.

“Ple-ple” my mouth can only stutter from bring fucked to my breaking point

“Speak human” A flat rubber wand appears from one of the arms and strikes my ass,stinging 

“Please!” I cry out in response, my head falling immediately after, I can only take so much more and not cum.

“Good lab rat, I shall insert the seed now.” It begins to speed up in pace and vibration, hitting my g spot and womb while vibrating my clit and nipples, I could feel my end coming, my body shook against my will. 

"I can see you are starting to climax I shall start flowing in sperm” that’s when I feel a warm thick substance start to fill me as I shake against the mechanic tendrils screaming and crying in overstimulation. After it was all in it stopped for a moment and then continuing thrustiing. About 5 minutes of that just to make sure it took but my limbs went limp, no more resistance, I couldn’t if I wanted to, just uncontrollably moaning into an empty room. Then finally it set me back on the tabel,still shaking.

“Good Job Patient BQ-219!” It’s the recording again..”You have completed your first insemination, Your next exam will be in a month, Bye Bye now!” and it powers off.

A/N: THANK YOU FOR READING MY FIRST NSFW STORY!! HOPE YOU LIKED IT!! -LEMONZ<3

**DO NOT STEAL, REPLICATE, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. **

I strictly FORBID any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This includes reposting my stories on other websites, platforms, etc.

[elizabethrobertajones]

FFXIV Write 2024

2. Horizon

The last light dappled the leaves below in vivid blues mottled with green; the Ja Tiika forest at her feet, so close Frog felt she could step out from the cliff and start walking across the still tree tops. So close they made a perfect unbroken blanket, and below them, mysteries that nagged at her.

Turbulence, curled up beside her and pecking at a pile of greens as his reward for a hard day, was almost the same colour as the trees, she realised. Her chocobo could easily take her out across those trees – or below them – if only she knew this land better. The danger of flying into an unknown current, especially over a void like this, and she may find her trusty companion sucked down into the trees in a cruel aetheric eddy, or thrown malms over the chasm and into the jungle-swathed mountains far beyond. It made her shudder, and clutch her aetheric compass closer.

Just below, it was telling her with its urgently flickering needle that a current twisted and writhed – a few yalms ahead and hundreds below. She wasn’t going to be leaping out over the forest any time soon. Not with that warning.

“What’s that?”

She jumped, and quickly told herself that she’d let Wuk Lamat sneak up on her because she’d become used to those soft padding footsteps, and not because Frog had been so lost in thought about bananas and their still-illegal trade to hear someone sneaking up on her out in the open forest, not even drawing Turbulence’s attention. She’d chosen a spot close to a watch tower, with no lurking creatures that she could sense nearby, but even so, this area wasn’t safe to daydream.

“An aether compass,” she said, as Wuk Lamat sat beside her, feet hanging right over the edge of the cliff, in a way that made Frog shudder remembering what she had learned that day about Wuk Lamat’s history. “It’s attuned to air aspected aether, so you can learn the safe paths to fly in an area.” She held it flat in her palm, to show the needle’s attempts to touch the so-close but so-far current.

“Can I see?” the Third Promise demanded eagerly, reaching for it even as she asked. She’d become so familiar with them, it had crept up on them, but she and Alisaie were practically living out of each other’s pockets by the time they’d reached Yak T’el.

Frog closed her palm and held the compass close to her chest before she’d even thought about it. “Sorry. This is too precious to me. I – I can’t let someone else hold it.”

“Oh! Is flying that important to you?” Huge shiny eyes turned on Frog, absolutely loaded with admiration and awe.

“Um.” She cleared her throat. “It’s fun being able to take to the skies and cross such beautiful lands but – but this compass. Uh, someone gave it to me. I don’t want to…” She looked at the great drop right in front of them, and the thought of the compass tumbling down into its depths made her stomach freeze solid with horror. She’d find it – she’d tear up the whole forest to find it and they were descending on foot tomorrow, so it would hardly be long before she could get it back – but she’d rather not become that person when they had so much more important things to be doing. She would hold up the whole Rite of Succession to get her aether compass back, that she knew.

It wasn’t Wuk Lamat’s fault she’d proven more clumsy than most and therefore doubly terrifying to think of handing something so precious to.

Her hand rested on Frog’s shoulder instead, making her jump again.

“It’s alright. I understand.”

Frog smiled weakly back at her, and carefully tucked the aether compass back into her pack, and made sure the pocket was closed properly.

“It’s a wonderful gift,” Wuk Lamat said quietly. “A gift of freedom, wherever you go.”

Frog nodded quietly, then, suddenly startled, turned and pushed a far more suitable smile onto her face. “That’s enough of that. We should rest up – last trial tomorrow!” She scrambled to her feet and offered a hand to Wuk Lamat to help her up as well.

[three-cheers-for-my-balls]

MY FAVORITE RTC QUOTES

when you've been alone as long as i have, you tend to anthropomorphize your friends. (karnak)

-If you believe both armrests are yours exclusively, you are part of the problem. (karnak)

-even in competition against yourself, you can still walk away a loser (ocean)

-he was inspired by traditional african folk music, specifically the lion king (constance)

-raise a middle finger to that most ruthless adjudicator called time (karnak)

-i hope i wiped my browser history clean (constance)

-democracy rocks! (ocean)

-i trade mostly in prophecies that dont make any sense until they actually do (karnak)

-even in death i can't escape her- she's followed me to the afterlife! (noel)

-well played satan, well played (noel)

being the only gay man in a small rural highschool is like having a laptop in the stone ages. sure you can have one but theres nowhere to plug it in (noel)

When a lioness has children, she sops making love to the lion. the lion gets jealous, sometimes so jealous he eats the children. You think this would upset the lioness. far from it. they make love again like the children never existed. (jane/penny)

-noooo i cant get any wifi up in this bitch (mischa)

-my gansta persona is only armour to conceal the fact that i am naked child wandering through the wilderness holding in my hands my wounded fragile heart (mischa)

-that was wack (mischa)

-i dont know how it is in your culture but in ours, playing games with peoples lives? super illegal (ocean)

-if its yellow, let it mellow. if its brown scoop it out with your hand and put it in the compost (karnak)

-some people are right wing, some people are left wing but last time i checked it takes 2 wings to fly. we are community we are family, we are the world (ocean)

-what you need is a fother-mucking hero (ocean)

-your cousin was in grade 4 he had to get his stomach pumped (ocean)

-you challenged my preconcieved notion that all gay dudes are fun to be around (ocean)

-OHHHH sweet jesus christ. on a bike. (noel)

-its like a slurpee woodstock (noel)

-a s.xual provacetour and a novelist. who never wrote a novel. or had sex (noel)

-GOD DAMMIT CAN YOU KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS FOR ONE SECOND YOU HORRIBLE SUCCUBUS (noel)

-that was DOOOOOPEE YOOOOO (mischa)

-mad wicked awesome! (mischa)

-fornication under consent of the king (jane/penny)

-in my country it is natural for 2 men to show affection by kissing… not always in heels (mischa)

-theres a difference between affection and smut (ocean)

-not in my bible baby, bonsoir (noel)

mine will only have profanity in chorus (mischa)

-little orphan a hole (mischa)

-teen sex? kills (ocean)

-porno is magical (ricky)

whattt just because im all gangsta dont automatically make me homophobic. its not cool to be homophobe in rap game anymore since macklemore dropped same love. that sh.t was emotionally devastativing yo. (mischa)

he turned to the last fashion of pure stregnth and masculinity in society, self agrandizing commercialized hiphop (karnak)

grab yo dicks if you in the 306 bruh (mischa)

-autotune will never die (mischa)

-my rage has subsided, i am vulnerable now (mischa)

and that is why not everybody should have a library card! and you should vote for me (ocean)

and this is why you both SUCKED at math (ocean)

-on the other hand, given the context of german history, being a party spoiler might be a good thing. (karnak)

-i guess you could say im pretty sexy on another planet (ricky)

i told you moneky lovedrop (ricky)

-life is hard enough without making up reasons to be dicks to each other (ricky)

-incredible~ (ricky)

-theres only one commandment in the bachelor man bible: dont be a dick (ricky)

-we listen to you now space jesus (mischa)

[archiveikemen]

『 The Past Records 』 Collection Event: Chapter 5

Jude Jazza & Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

They took Liam’s word for it and followed Ellis and Jude to a warehouse at the harbour.

Alfons: It’s not like anyone would hold a business meeting in the dead of the night, so what on earth could they possibly be here for?

Harrison: Assuming that they’re here to make a deal with one of those former inmates, depending on the contents of said deal—

Liam: They might be dealing with someone who deserves to be punished by Crown… right?

Liam: Although I find that hard to believe.

Alfons: Shh… looks like there’s someone already inside the warehouse.

Harrison: That’s—?

Jude and Ellis boldly entered the warehouse, causing the people inside to get chaotic.

Jude: Ahh, you're that guy who tried to sell me inferior goods the other day.

Business Partner: …!?

Jude: But this person next to you… who is he?

Wilson: My name is Thomas Wilson. I’m the representative of Wilson Tradings, birdbrain.

Jude: Ah, I remember you. You’re that chap who ran a damn shitty business that went bankrupt and even tried to swindle us.

Wilson: …!

Ellis: Is he the number one bad guy?

Jude: Yeah. That pale coward over there doesn’t have the balls to have dealings with a former inmate.

Ellis: Pale… uhh… if not Mr Wilson…

Jude: Dennis Donald.

Ellis: Mr Dennis.

Dennis: W-Why do you know… my name…

Ellis: It’s the bare minimum to know the name, family structure, assets, and background of your business partners.

Ellis: So, Mr Dennis, you were threatened by Mr Willson to store dangerous drugs in this warehouse you rented. Correct?

Dennis: H-How did you know about that…

Wilson: You idiot! Why would you admit to it!?

Jude: Stashing illegal goods in the warehouse you rented from us, said drugs to ex-inmates fresh out of prison to make a quick buck…

Jude: Then at the end, you’ll very conveniently say that “Jude Jazza is the mastermind” and frame me to take your revenge. Was that your plot?

Wilson: — Exactly. I did all of this to take revenge on you!

Wilson: The dealings with the ex-inmates will start tomorrow, and this information has already been sold to a newspaper publishing house.

Wilson: There’s no way you can get rid of everything in this warehouse by then. It’s game over for you now… haha, HAHAHA!

Jude: You seriously think it’s fun to waste your life on such bullshit?

Jude: You put in all that effort just to do business with some bad guys, and now there’s no turning back for you. Poor thing.

Wilson: Hmph, enjoy your peace while you still can…

Dennis: AAAHH…!?

Wilson: Shut up! What’s with you all of a sudden!?

Dennis: T-The drugs… the drugs are not here!

Wilson: What the hell…!?

Ellis: Sorry. I know you went into debt to obtain those drugs, but…

Ellis: I got rid of them all.

Wilson: What…!? I-Impossible… when did you… how…

Jude: Your clients are coming tomorrow. Who knows what those ex-inmates with a criminal record for drug abuse will do to you?

Wilson: Ughh, ARGGGHHH!

Ellis: Oh, he’s coming at me.

Jude: A move only a small fry would make.

Ellis: What should we do? Can I knock him out?

Jude: No need.

As Wilson raised his fist, Jude swiftly kicked him in the leg.

Wilson: Ugh!

Jude: Dennis, drug and human trafficking are against the rules. This was stated clearly in our contract… ah.

Jude: You made use of that coward to threaten others while you watched from a safe distance, so you don't know it.

Wilson: This is all your fault...

Jude: You’ll never know how many people’s lives would be ruined by the stuff you’re selling, because you let others do the dirty work for you.

Jude: You're a scumbag who wants to enjoy while others suffer because of you. — You would’ve been killed by someone else even if I don't do it myself.

Jude: Since you're going to be my servant for the rest of your life, I’ll lend you a hand before those ex-inmates rat you out, yeah?

After Wilson apologised profusely and begged for his life a few minutes later, his face had footprints vividly imprinted on it.

Ellis: Mr Dennis, as you’ve also violated your contract, you’re now Jude’s servant.

Dennis: *sobs*... if you’ll free me from Wilson, I’ll follow you for the rest of my life…

Ellis: Are those tears of joy…?

Jude: Gross.

Jude: So, what do you guys intend to come out of hiding?

Alfons: Oh, you noticed us?

Liam: Erm, I can’t really say for certain, but was all of this because that man lying over there holds a grudge against Jude?

Liam: He tried to frame Jude for doing illegal business in this warehouse, is that right?

Ellis: That’s exactly what happened. Jude’s involvement in high risk business deals tends to get him a lot of hatred from others.

Harrison: So the reason behind you declining to take tonight’s mission and your suspicious activities every night…

Jude: I just wanted to settle one thing that's been a pain in the ass, before I get busy with completing missions.

Ellis: The person Mr Wilson was about to make a deal with to frame Jude seems to be a former aristocrat who drugged and held captive the people he abducted…

Ellis: I’m guessing that he plans to commit the same crime again, once he obtains the drugs from Mr Wilson.

Alfons: Goodness, that’s rather villainous.

Jude: I’ll do the missions or whatever stuff Crown has, after I’m finished with the culprit this guy will lure to me.

Jude: He thinks he can return to the free world so easily? I’m going to show him what hell is like.

Harrison: Do you have some sort of personal vendetta against that guy…?

Ellis: Nope. He just happens to be the type of person Jude detests.

Jude: I’m allowed to torment bastards like him when it’s a mission for “Crown”, right?

Jude: Getting paid to torture corrupt aristocrats sounds like one hell of a good job.

Liam: Whoa… he’s got a bad look on his face.

Alfons: There might not be anyone more suited to be a member of Crown than Jude.

Harrison: … Miraculously, we have arrived at a conclusion for the report.

Ellis: Report?

Harrison: Nothing.

…

— On another day, Harrison submitted the completed report to Victor.

Jude: Thought they were snooping around for something… this is so stupid.

Victor: This means the case is finally closed!

Harrison: Well… there is still one more thing that remains a mystery.

William: A mystery?

Harrison: Why is Ellis always with Jude?

Harrison: He doesn't seem like he’s being blackmailed…

Jude: Oi.

Liam: Indeed, they don’t look like they get along.

Ellis: … It’s because of a promise.

[universitypenguin]

Chapter XIII

The Princess & The Lawyer

Summary: A scare with her stalker causes Princess to take matters into her own hands. Meanwhile in Idaho, Lloyd finds himself between a rock and hard place.

Word Count: 8,058

Masterlist

Warnings: Description of a physical assault with a blunt weapon, stalking, harassment, dangerous encounter with a semi-wild animal, cowboy/ranch work, illegal drug trade, and corruption. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors. 

Author’s Note: I wish this installment hadn’t taken so long, but between going on interviews and then changing jobs, the past few months have been crazy. Thank you for waiting, encouraging me, and sticking with this story.

Chapter XIII 

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

You were counting down the seconds until you could end this call but Weston Tafferty was in prime form tonight. Even though you’d clocked out thirty minutes ago, he seemed to think your personal time was fair game for work-related conversation. He continued to fire off questions as you struggled to fill in your eyebrows and carry your end of the conversation. If he didn’t wrap this up soon, you’d still be on the phone with him during your belated family birthday dinner.

“Why wasn’t I cc’d on your emails to Detective Roth?” Weston asked. 

“I’m not using my work account for those messages. Roth set me up on their encrypted server.” 

“And this prevents you from emailing me how?”

“Wes, that information is too sensitive to share.” 

“Hmmm. I’ll give you a pass for now, but next time, make sure I’m in the loop. I also noticed you haven’t been using my spreadsheet system. If you don’t comply with departmental requirements, I’ll have to write you up.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Okay. Listen, I’m already off work and I have plans. Email me the details and I’ll take it up with HR.” 

A while ago this sort of micromanagement would’ve sent you through the roof. Tonight, other stresses were taking up too much mental space for you to care. And thanks to Weston’s call, you were running ten minutes late. You tapped your phone to check the time and realized ten minutes had become fifteen. Great. Your Mom would kill you if you were late to your own party. 

Another icon on the home screen caught your eye. There was no little red number hoovering in the corner of your message app to announce new texts. 

There had been no new messages for a week. 

Aiden had just… stopped. It should feel good, but your nervous system was screaming. An impending sense of doom settled over you and kept you trapped in the house all week. Your gut said this ceasefire was temporary and Aiden was biding his time. 

You’d filed a complaint with the police and he'd gone no contact. It was disorienting. Just when you started taking Aiden’s threats seriously, he stopped making them. Filling out the paperwork at Metro had stripped away the delusion you’d maintained last week. Writing the incidents in black and white on police forms laid waste to your sense of security. As the silence had stretched from one day into two, and then into four, fear sank deeper into your consciousness. 

Staying locked in Lloyd’s house forever wasn’t an option. If it were, you’d do just that. But your parents had already delayed your birthday celebration because of the Singapore trip, and backing out now would demand an explanation you weren’t prepared to give. 

Checking your reflection in the full-length mirror, you frowned. Thanks to Aiden’s threats about your apartment, you’d avoided going home, so the only dinner outfit you had was the dress Lloyd gave you in Singapore. Unfortunately, the skirt didn’t cover your knees. Self-defense lessons with Landon and Jake had left them covered in ugly bruises. 

There was no way Vivan wouldn’t notice and then your mother would make a fuss. You tried covering the marks with concealer. As you were applying setting powder, your phone buzzed. Hands full of makeup, you glanced at the screen.

A message read: Here. 

You were expecting Jake and tapped ‘K’ in reply.

There was a noise from below as the front door opened, then the scuff of sneakers on tile. You tossed the concealer into your makeup bag and rinsed your hands before heading downstairs. 

“Hey, Jake! Guess what? No new messages today. He’s gone from obsessed to silent. It’s crazy…” 

You turned the corner and froze. The visitor wasn’t Jake.

“Zach!”

He removed his sunglasses, hooking them on the top button of his shirt. 

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming by,” you said. 

“I texted. Jake’s working late. He asked me to check in, said there’d been trouble with raccoons knocking over garbage cans.” 

“Yes… Racoons.” 

“Everything okay?” Zach asked. 

“Absolutely.”

He cocked his head. “Yeah? Who were you talking about before?”

“Uh… I was scheduling a follow up with a witness. A witness in another case. He was responsive at first, like, obnoxiously, but suddenly… you know. He’s ghosting me.” 

“You seem nervous.”

You needed to lie - convincingly. 

“I’m fighting with Vivian, and my birthday dinner is tonight. It’s going to be interesting.” 

“That’s all?”

“Yeah. Just family drama.” 

“Hmmm. Jake’s been cracking his knuckles all week, which is never a good sign. I checked the location history on our work phones and saw Landon and Jake have been stopping by regularly. What gives, Y/N?” 

“That sounds like an invasion of privacy,” you said.

“They’re my phones. Speaking of… give me yours.” 

He held out his hand. 

“No way.” 

“Suppose the racoons aren’t just racoons, Princess. Give me your phone. I won’t check the location without cause.” 

You hesitated.

Zach wiggled his fingers. “Give it.” 

You handed him the phone. Zach tapped in commands as you collected your purse. By the time you’d checked your wallet and keys, he’d installed the app. 

“When did you hear the racoons?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“Did the floodlights come on?” Zach asked.

“Ah… I don’t remember.” 

You wished Jake had given you a heads up about the cover story. Zach passed you the phone. 

“I’ll take a look. Don’t let me keep you, I’ve got my own keys.” 

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

“Charlene, don’t be a bitch. Let’s talk about this before you do something crazy.”

Lloyd tried to make his tone as cajoling as possible. Facing down the bad-tempered female with death in her tawny eyes, he was willing to press any advantage he could, including charm.

The cow snorted and bobbed her head. He recognized that look and untethered his rope from the saddle horn in response. Through the act his eyes stayed locked on Charlene. She might be a Charolais heifer, but her temperament rivaled the most vicious Jersey bull. He uncoiled his rope and extended the loop to allow for her horns. While he understood his father had been sick, it was a crime not to have de-horned this monster when she was born. Her attitude was defense enough without having weapons attached to her head. 

He swung the lasso a few times, getting it into shape.

“Charlene” – so named because all Charolais heifers were Charlene in his book – pawed the ground. Getting her out of the pasture hadn’t been easy and herding her through the corrals was an event he’d rather forget. But he hadn’t expected the sight of the narrow alley into the loading chute would turn her into a psychotic demon. 

The rail-road tie fencing of the alley was six feet high and not much wider inside. Charlene had made up her mind about it in an instant, despite the fact she’d probably never seen such a thing before in her life. He’d found most of his father’s herd balked at the loading chute. Even in the pasture they acted half-wild, like they hadn’t seen a human in years. After that discovery he’d installed a series of gates in the alleyway for better control. The first was at the entrance and another positioned in the middle to prevent cows from backing up or creating a crowd-crush. The system worked, assuming the animal went in. 

Charlene bellowed and raised her head, puffing herself up. Jane, the quarter horse under him, shuffled back a step. He hoped she had nerves of steel because the last thing he wanted was to snap his neck getting bucked off and finding out what the business end of Charlene’s horns felt like was equally unappealing.

“Can you hurry it up? We’re behind schedule!”

The semi-truck driver called to him over the fence and Lloyd ignored him. He adjusted the rope and turned it so the loop’s bottom strand flipped over his wrist. When he raised his arm, muscle memory kicked in. Without a conscious thought his thumb clenched and his fingers curled, while his elbow and shoulder rolled in a familiar motion. He stood up and put most of his weight into the left stirrup, preparing for the throw. When Charlene’s muscles rippled, he angled the lasso down and threw the loop, relishing the speed as it flew over his hand. 

He was still focused on the mechanics of the action when Jane spooked. He’d leaned into the throw which placed his weight in the opposite direction of where she’d run. When she bucked again, he swore and lost a stirrup. Lloyd grabbed the saddle horn and fought to keep his seat. 

The lasso sailed over Charlene’s horns despite Jane’s fit. He drew it snug and anchored the rope to his saddle horn. When the little roan under him felt the rope pull, she spun around, leaning back on her haunches. Charlene tossed her head, fighting the restraint.

“Good girl, Jane. You’re a roping horse, aren't you?” 

The mare flicked her ears in appreciation. He laughed, surprised at his good fortune. His father hadn’t had many good traits but his taste in horses was impeccable. Lloyd twisted the rope back and forth. Charlene bellowed as it rubbed and moved forward. When he clicked his tongue, Jane backed into the narrow alleyway, dragging Charlene along. 

“Hey, kid!” Lloyd called to the driver’s assistant. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Shut that gate!” 

This was the farthest he’d gotten her. If he lost his grip on the rope, he’d rather chase her in the confinement of the alley than around the corral. When the gate clanged shut behind her, the heifer kicked at it and made contact, causing the panel to clang against the chain fastener.

Charlene lunged at Jane. 

The horse reared and Lloyd leaned into the movement just in time to avoid a tumble. Jane turned in mid-air and landed facing the gate that had just been shut. Lloyd yanked his rope over the saddle horn, and leapt off. He smacked Jane’s hind quarters, sending her galloping, and whistled at the heifer to keep her attention while the kid opened the gate for the horse. 

Whistling really pissed Charlene off. 

He turned and sprinted for the fence and felt her breath on his back pocket just as his foot hit the railing. He managed to climb halfway up before she slammed into his leg. Lloyd gasped at the burst of pain. When the pressure let up, he jumped down and rolled under the second gate. 

“Holy shit, you’ve got a death wish,” the driver said. “I’m not taking this one!” 

“She’ll calm down. She just doesn’t like trailers,” Lloyd said.

He had no idea if that was true, but he wasn’t about to keep her around to find out. 

Charlene paced back and forth, eyeing him on the other side of the gate, dragging the rope he’d dropped through the mud. Lloyd stood up. She shook her head and bellowed, making the rope whip around. By a stroke of good luck he caught the end and pulled it under the gate. 

As the alley narrowed, barricade posts set inside the high fence guided the cattle into the loading chute. He wound the rope around one and tugged, testing its strength. Charlene was big and this post wasn’t built to withstand that kind of weight. Lloyd wrapped the rope around again. 

“If this cow kills me, I’ll sue you,” the driver said from the other side of the fence.

“I don’t think you’re the one she’s looking to kill.”

The assistant climbed over from the corral and landed beside his boss. He looked at Lloyd. 

“You okay? Did she break anything?”

“No, I’m good. Do me a favor. Be ready to shut that trailer, fast.”

“What?” 

Lloyd unchained the gate and moved to the far side of the alley. He glanced at the kid.

“Ready?” 

The assistant ran to the trailer. Lloyd tightened the rope around the post, lashed it around his hand for good measure, and unlatched the second gate. He moved to the other side of the alley, parallel to the barrier post, and kicked the gate open, making it crash against the fence. This time the noise didn’t spook Charlene. She was too focused on Lloyd to care. 

He stood there and let her charge. The barrier post served as a pivot point, creating a zig-zag that shortened the rope. Charlene was just a few feet away when she ran out of length and was swung around by the force of her own momentum. She stumbled into the loading chute and Lloyd shoved the metal panel into place behind her. He climbed up the fence and pulled the rope off her horns. When it was off, he whistled. She bolted in the only direction she could, straight into the trailer. The kid slammed the door shut.

Jane was waiting by the gate, exactly where she’d run after he’d jumped off. Lloyd led her out of the corral around to the cattle truck. The assistant watched him secure his rope to the saddle with obvious interest. 

“Do you rodeo, sir?”

“Nope, never have.”

The kid’s expression was disbelieving. “Why?” 

“My father preferred to train and sell horses instead of competing with them.” 

“You could’ve made a killing at jackpot ropings!” 

Lloyd chuckled, amused by the kid’s enthusiasm. 

The driver scowled. “We’re behind schedule.”

“That’s the pleasure of working with animals,” Lloyd said.

“I’m charging you for the delay. You should’ve shot this one, she’s going to kill somebody.”  

“She’ll be fine once you unload her. Do you have everything you need?”

The kid answered. “We just need your signature.”

The driver fetched the paperwork while Lloyd fielded the kid’s roping questions. It surprised him to find he enjoyed giving the advice. 

When the livestock haulers were off, he walked Jane to the barn.

“You earned some oats for not breaking my neck,” Lloyd said.

Jane snorted and picked up her pace. 

In front of the barn, he noticed marks in the dirt. He looped Jane’s reins through a hitching ring without bothering to secure them and crouched to study the boot prints. The mixture of clay and loam soil held its shape well, and the sun had baked the dirt into a detailed cast. He’d found similar impressions on Tuesday morning which had motivated him to spend the next few days herding cattle on the outskirts of the ranch. 

The sneaky, unwanted visitor didn’t surprise him. 

Settling the ranch’s affairs was his duty. Dealing with his father’s illegal side business wasn’t. He’d be insane to get involved in a drug running operation and risk a second strike on his record. 

Lloyd studied the print. He knew it wasn’t from him. The first thing he’d done when he’d arrived was dig out his cowboy boots and start cleaning the barn. His boots were leather soled, designed to slide easily in and out of stirrups. They left a distinct heel and triangular forefoot print. The visitor’s boots had a tread pattern that was usually found on rubber soles. Whoever wore these shoes spent his days on city streets, not on a ranch. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. He had a strong hunch about the visitor’s identity, but hoped he was wrong. Lloyd dusted off his jeans, and went to untack Jane. He placed the saddle and blanket over the door of an empty stall. 

He glanced toward the tack room and his stomach clenched. Inhaling sharply, he turned away. 

After Jane was settled with a bale of grass hay and a bucket of oats, he walked to the small pen where a sick calf was bedded down in the straw. His eyes and nose were running with thick green mucus that left no doubt infection had taken hold. Lloyd checked his water. It hadn’t been touched. 

“Whatever bug you’re fighting might not kill you, but dehydration sure will.” 

The calf wheezed. 

Lloyd shook his head. “You need a vet.”

His ears twitched at the words, but he didn’t raise his head. After changing the calf’s water Lloyd went to the house and used the landline to call Anderson’s Feed Store. 

Henry Anderson picked up on the first ring. Of course, he not only knew the local vet, but promised he’d have them swing by around six. Then he started firing off questions with the zeal of a Spanish Inquisitor. How was college? Did he like Harvard, or did he wish he’d gone to Notre Dame? What had he enjoyed about England? How much did it rain over there? Did he know Coach Olsen had hung a framed picture of him receiving the Bushnell Cup in the gym lobby?

Lloyd sat down at the kitchen table and answered the inquiries. He noticed when Mr. Anderson skipped over questions about his post-college years and fast forwarded to current events. The effortless way he sidestepped the uncomfortable subject squeezed Lloyd’s heart. His unseemly history didn’t warrant such a tactful maneuver and because of it, Henry’s easy grace hit him like a three hundred pound linebacker. 

“I knew that determination would take you places. I haven’t employed another highschool kid for four years straight since you.” 

At that time, he’d done his best to stay out of Joe’s way which meant the long hours at Henry’s store were a perk. Later, their fully stocked breakroom fridge had allowed him to avoid going home for days at a time.

“How’s April doing?” 

He finally asked about the topic he’d been expecting would come up, but hadn’t. 

“She’s doing well. Married a boy from Portland and now we’ve got four grandchildren. The oldest is a senior this fall, and the middle one starts seventh grade. The second youngest is in kindergarten and the baby turns two in a month.”  

“Wow… that’s a range of ages.” 

“The baby is her Mama’s spitting image. It took four tries, but her genes finally hit copy paste.” 

Henry laughed at his own joke while Lloyd tried to imagine it.

“I’m sure you’ll catch up with her, but I’ve got to let you go. A load of grain just pulled in. The vet says they’ll be by after 5:30, probably closer to 6.” 

“Thanks, Henry.” 

He hung up and tried to wrap his head around the bombshell that April Anderson was married with four kids. He wondered why Henry had suggested they catch up. It seemed to imply she still lived in the area. Lloyd shook off the curiosity and grabbed the truck keys. He didn’t have time for a social call. Already, it was mid-afternoon and his errands in town couldn’t be put off any longer. 

Lloyd paused at the door and reached into the side table drawer. As expected, his father’s loaded .22 Sig Sauer was inside, encased in a leather shoulder holster that held two extra magazines in a pocket on the right strap. Being a felon, he wasn’t legally allowed to carry a gun, let alone a concealed gun. He thought of the boot prints and his suspicions about the night-time visitor, then removed his denim shirt and slipped on the holster. He covered it with the shirt and checked his reflection. The loose garment and compact weapon rendered the bulge under his arm almost invisible. He put on his sunglasses and grabbed a baseball cap from the shelf. 

It was just a quick trip to town. He’d be in and out before anyone knew he was there. 

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

You tugged at your skirt, trying in vain to shield your bruised knees. Even with setting powder, the concealer hadn’t provided the coverage you’d hoped for. 

Vivian stirred her yogurt and watched you from the corner of her eye. Your birthday dinner had gone better than expected. For dessert you’d taken the family out for frozen yogurt and, at your Mom’s suggestion, walked down to the park so Alyssa could run around. She’d behaved well at the restaurant, but after two hours of sitting, she was getting antsy. 

With the efficiency of a general, Mom had taken charge of Sam and ordered Juan to mind Alyssa. She had sent you and Vivian off to ‘enjoy the peace and quiet,’ which was code for ‘go make up because I said so.’ From a shady bench you watched Mom encouraging Sam to walk through the splash pad spray. She was bent over, letting him hold both her hands for balance, uncaring of the mist soaking the lower half of her linen pants. Hector, Caleb, and Diego were kicking a soccer ball in the grass and Juan was hovering nearby, watching Alyssa play in the landscaping.

“What’s Alyssa doing?” you asked Vivian. 

“Playing with rocks. I don’t know why, but if you give her a rock, she’ll look at it for hours.” 

“Huh. Interesting.” 

“What happened to your knees?” Vivian asked. 

“I fell.”

“Were you drinking?”

“Vivian!” 

“What, you’re not uncoordinated. Were you drinking?”

“No!”

“Well, I have to ask. You’ve been acting super weird lately,” she said. 

That was true. You cringed under her scrutiny and decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry, Vivian.” 

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My reaction to your pregnancy was uncalled for. I overstepped, and I’m sorry.”

“I dropped it on you like a ton of bricks, so there’s that. You don’t handle change well and I should’ve known to break the news gently.” 

“Hey! I’m great with change.” 

“Absolutely, you just roll with the punches.” Vivian snickered, and dissolved into giggles. Then her gaze shifted to your frozen yogurt. “Can I have a bite?”

You held out the cup. She sampled it and made a face.

“Yuck.”  

“First you insult my adaptability, then my taste buds.”

“Speaking of taste, congratulations on the break up.”

It took you a second to realize what she meant. “When did I tell you about that?”

“You told Caleb, which is like telling the whole family.”

“Right.”

“Does your boss live in the Historic District of Alexandria? By those swanky townhouses?” Vivian asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Last night I checked your location on Life360. Guess where you were?”

Oh, crap…

“Why were you at your boss’s house at three a.m?”

“I’m house sitting,” you said. 

“For three weeks? Bullshit.”

“Damn it, I’m going to delete that stupid app. I thought I already did-”

“I stole your phone and reinstalled it. Before you ask, yes, I check your location every night. Are you dating your boss?”

“He’s not my boss. Technically, Weston Tafferty is my supervisor.” 

“Lloyd’s last name is Hansen, right?”

You frowned. “Did you Google him?”

“I really should apply to the FBI someday,” Vivian said, grinning. 

“Listen, you can’t believe everything on the internet…”

She was already opening a website on her phone.

“Have you seen this?” 

You braced yourself to explain Lloyd’s escapades, but it was an article from the Boston Globe sports section dated 26 October 2001. The headline read “Harvard Beats Penn, Cinches Ivy Title” and the photo underneath showed a group of sweaty men in tight white pants and hulking shoulder pads. Lloyd was in the middle. He’d taken his helmet off, revealing a clean shaven jaw and hair three shades lighter than it was now, but there was no mistaking that bone structure. 

“Look at that man. He is fine,” Vivian drew the middle vowel of ‘fine’ into a throaty purr. 

“It’s not like that, I’m-”

“You’re sleeping with him, just spill.” 

You groaned and covered your face.

“Y/N, please? It’s just us. And unlike Caleb, I can keep a secret. I can keep all the secrets, so tell me everything.” 

Your sister was absolutely reliable as a confidant, but your relationship with Lloyd was so new and undefined. Then again, maybe you could use some outside perspective on the matter. It would probably go a long way toward repairing the rift between you. 

“Okay. So, Aiden ended things-”

“Shut up! He broke up with you?!”

Her outrage was a delight. “Unfortunately. Lloyd took me out for dinner and you’ll never guess what happened then…”

By the time you left the park, dusk was falling. Talking to Vivian had settled your mind about the crazy twist your relationship with Lloyd had taken and confirmed that you were enjoying the new status quo, as tenuous as it might be. 

There was a flier stuck under your windshield wiper. Assuming it was an advertisement, you grabbed it, slid behind the wheel and turned on the air conditioner, then unfolded the page. Breath froze in your lungs and your heart dropped like a stone as blood drained from your face so fast your vision blurred.

It was a photo of you and Vivian on the park bench. You scanned it for clues, trying to decipher the angle it had been taken from and realized the photographer must have been on the other side of the splash pad from where you’d been sitting. A shiver ran down your spine. You scanned the street, with its long shadows and fluorescent lamps. Aiden could be anywhere. Fragments of the messages he’d sent flashed through your mind, raising goosebumps on your arms. Your hands clenched into fists. This was no way to live. You couldn’t tolerate it.

Trying to calm your racing heart, you took several deep breaths. After the pressure eased in your chest and you felt clear-headed again, you evaluated your options. There was the obvious choice - contact Detective Diskant at metro and give him the photo. But hadn’t you already done that? Aiden had responded by stepping up his game. Not only had he followed you, he’d followed your family and been bold enough to leave behind photographic evidence of the act.

The message was clear: I’m watching, and you can’t stop me.

Reporting him had made things worse. You threw the car into reverse; it was time to show Aiden who he was dealing with. 

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

His errands took longer than expected. 

The health district office was slammed, and he’d waited more than an hour for copies of his father’s death certificate. Paying property taxes in person was a bureaucratic nightmare, and so was settling the funeral home bill. His last stop was the priest, and he’d cut that visit short. To make sure they wouldn’t cancel Joe’s service because of his rudeness, he’d added a zero to his donation. With one eye on the clock, he made the final turn towards home. The clock ticked off another minute. Not wanting to miss the vet, he sped up.

Sirens wailed.

Lloyd hissed. He hadn’t risked speeding on the interstate after spotting the black and white vehicle tailing him, but he’d thought he had shaken them miles ago. Red and blue flashing lights followed him to the edge of the road as he pulled over. 

Great. What a fantastic ending to an afternoon filled with unpleasant errands. He’d handed over a small fortune to the county and fucking donated to an organization that owned more land than Bill Gates. Like an ice cream sundae wouldn’t be complete without the cherry on top, this miserable day couldn’t be finished with anything less than a traffic stop. 

He parked a few meters from the ranch’s front gate. The police truck didn’t pull in behind him; instead, it maneuvered around and turned into his driveway. It swung to the right and reversed into a parallel park, blocking the road. 

The side decal on the pickup read ‘SHERIFF’ in bold print. 

Lloyd watched the driver climb out. Even at a distance, he recognized the well-built man thanks to the distinctive outline of his Montana crease cowboy hat. This one was pecan colored instead of gray. It matched the tan uniform better than his old one, Lloyd noted. 

He rolled down the window and propped his elbow on the ledge to hide the holster under his arm.

“Evening, Sheriff. Was I speeding?”

“License and registration.”

Lloyd took his time finding the papers and handed them over, one by one.

“You’re looking well, Holbrook. It’s like you haven’t aged a day.”

The jab made the Sheriff’s upper lip curl, but he didn’t bat an eye as he examined the papers. Charles Holbrook was his senior by twelve years, though the way he wore those years made it look like twenty. His bulky aviators didn’t cover the wrinkles around his eyes and what Lloyd could see of his hair had gone gray. 

Holbrook tilted his hat back. 

“Where were you headed in such a hurry, son?”

“I’ve got a sick calf and the vet’s due any minute.” 

The Sheriff looked to the passenger seat where the file of tax papers lay.

“What’s in the folder?”

“If you’ve got a warrant you can look, but if not…” 

“Where are you coming back from?”

“Town.”

Holbrook ran his tongue around his teeth. “You sure about that? Just town? Nowhere else?”

It seemed his instinct about being followed had been correct. He wished he hadn’t slipped their tail earlier, because it had given them the chance to set up this speed trap. 

Lloyd shrugged. “I’m just trying to get home and take care of my animals, Sheriff.”

Knowing who he was dealing with helped Lloyd keep his temper in check. Thirty years ago, when he’d been a young deputy, Charles Holbrook had joined Joe’s drug running operation. Harsher sentencing guidelines made his father cautious enough to find an insurance policy and Holbrook fit the bill. He proved himself effective and ambitious, which was why Lloyd hadn’t been surprised to hear they’d had a falling out after he’d left for college. Rumor was, the Sheriff and Joe had spent the past twenty years at war, fighting over control of the intermountain west drug trade.

Holbrook grasped the butt of his gun. Lloyd tensed, then a blur of action drew his attention. The passenger door of the police truck flew open. A young man in a deputy’s uniform burst out with a pump action rifle.

Shit. 

The .22 under his arm wouldn’t be any defense if the deputy was a good shot and given that Holbrook was nobody’s fool, especially in these matters… carrying illegally had been a colossal mistake. The tiniest infarction would be an excuse to throw him in jail. Lloyd’s jaw clenched as he appreciated that in this scenario, Holbrook’s definition of “jail” would mean “the bottom of Redfish Lake.” 

“Watch your back, Lloyd. You know the rules in these parts.” 

Rage bubbled in his chest at the threat. His nostrils flared as he took a sharp breath, struggling against the urge to fight. The Sheriff smirked. 

“It’d be a shame if there were two Hansen funerals this week, Lloyd. Don’t do anything stupid. We need to have a serious chat about-”

Holbrook cut off at the sound of gravel crunching behind them. Lloyd saw another vehicle had pulled up behind his truck and scowled. He couldn’t decide if he should be amused or annoyed that he warranted backup. This was a run of the mill shake down, not… Damn it. His gaze swung to the rearview mirror. The white pickup had boxed him in. With the sheriff on his left, the deputy in front of him, and the newcomer behind, he was trapped. 

It was a straight shot through the windshield with the pump action rifle. Lloyd figured he could shoot Holbrook and take cover behind the engine block, but that left him vulnerable to the occupant of the white pickup. By the time he got off a shot he’d have six rounds in his back.

“Luke! Put that away!” 

Holbrook straightened up and faced the new arrival. 

Lloyd didn’t blink, eyes tracking the deputy’s every move, while he complied with the request. His attention stayed on the rifle until it was out of sight. Only then did his attention return to the Sheriff, who wore a welcoming smile for the approaching woman. She wore a navy baseball cap, plaid button down, and Levi’s tucked into cowboy boots. There was something familiar about her that tickled the edge of his memory. 

“Dr. Ward! Haven’t I told you it’s not wise to interrupt police business?” 

Holbrook’s tone was the same one used to discipline golden retrievers - exasperated, but indulgent. 

“Well, Sheriff, this time it’s you interrupting my business. I’ve got a sick calf to see and you’re blocking the road.” 

She nodded at the police truck, and when she turned her head, he spotted the auburn ponytail. Lloyd’s jaw dropped. 

“April? April Anderson?”

“It’s Ward now,” she said, grinning. “Dad mentioned you had an emergency, but this isn’t the kind of emergency I expected.”

“Nah, no emergency here. Sheriff Holbrook was letting me off with a warning.”

“That’s sweet of you, Sheriff. Do you mind clearing the road?” 

Holbrook’s lips twisted into a sour pucker, but he touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

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

You sat in your car, gripping the steering wheel tight. 

Just being parked on this street felt dangerous. Despite the risk, anger was more powerful than logic in your current frame of mind. You hung onto that fury. If the past few days had taught you anything, it was that living in fear wasn’t sustainable. Rage felt like a suitable alternative - it was certainly more pleasant than terror. 

Thoughts of rage turned your mind to Lloyd. If he knew about your situation, he’d be apocalyptic. He’d protected you in Singapore with no consideration for himself and that recklessness worried you. If he flew off the handle there was a decent chance he’d end up facing a second round of felony charges. The prospect of Lloyd being sent to jail because of your mistakes was untenable. You needed to handle Aiden yourself. 

From the spot you’d parked, on the opposite side of the street to Aiden’s house, you had a perfect view into the living room. He was inside and based on what you’d seen in the last thirty minutes, he was alone. Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and imagined you were Lloyd. You thought of the irritable man who’d stormed into the paralegal office and invaded your life. The image filled your mind, thrilling and comforting in equal measure. You remembered the boisterous, almost wild energy that version of Lloyd had carried into a room.

Thinking of his confidence helped ease the tug of caution that insisted you’d be safer turning around and driving back to Virginia. You twisted your neck, warming up the muscles and taking deep, steady breaths. In less than a minute, your shoulders relaxed and your jaw unclenched as the last clouds of doubt rolled away. 

Moving with purpose, you stepped out of the car and stalked across the street toward the two-story brick colonial with an immaculate front lawn. Your heart was hammering, but the fear was buried under a thick fog of anger. You were going to demolish Aiden. 

You rang the bell and waited. The door opened and Aiden looked irritated to see you. The sight of him made your lip curl into a snarl.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you leave me alone?” 

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

You shoved the photo in his face. 

“This, Aiden. I’m talking about this!”

“Huh?”

“I found it on the hood of my car an hour ago. You took this picture and left it to threaten me.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” 

“Don’t lie.”

Aiden scoffed. “You’re crazy. It’s just a picture.” 

“You’re harassing me. You’ve been texting me, stalking my building, and trying to make me uncomfortable. Well, guess what? I’ve already forwarded the texts to your father and filed a complaint with the police. Even with all that, you don’t seem to be getting the message, so here it is. Stop. Bothering. Me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, Aiden. If you make my life hell, I’ll be happy to return the favor - in triplicate.” 

“You’re a drama queen, you know that, right? I’m not the one who came to your house. You should be glad I’m giving you the time of day - it’s not like you’d do the same.”

“I know you sent the texts. You’re taking your problems out on me, and if you keep doing it, you’ll find out that I punch back. Stay away from me. Stay away from my family. This is the last time I’ll say it - next time you find out I mean what I say.” 

He crossed his arms, straightening. “You should watch your mouth, bitch.” 

“And you should watch your back. You’re going to leave me alone. If you don't, I’ll put you in a world of hurt.”

“See if I care.” 

“You should. Because if you don’t, I’ll give you a reason to.” 

“Whatever.” 

You raised your chin.

“I don’t need you to believe me. Because whether or not you think I’m serious, I am. This is me giving you the chance to turn things around. Go very far away from me and stay there. If you don’t, you have no one to blame but yourself for what happens next.” 

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

The calf ended up with a prescription for long-term antibiotics, and he persuaded April to have a beer with him. He couldn’t help but stare as they sat on opposite sides of the small kitchen table. She broke the silence first. 

“Nice mustache. It ages you, but somehow it suits you.”

“Thanks. I can’t believe you’re still here. I figured some city boy would sweep you off your feet and take you to Seattle or Boise.” 

“He did, but I took him home instead of the other way around.”

“I guess your taste in men improved after high school,” Lloyd teased. 

“Given my starting point, it couldn’t have gotten much worse.” 

He laughed. “After Tyler, I was a step up.” 

Tyler Claffey had been April’s first boyfriend. He played defensive tackle to Lloyd’s quarterback and they’d been on the same team since fifth grade. Their hatred of each other ran deeper than the traditional offense vs. defense rivalry every football team suffered. Tyler still held the distinction of being the most insecure person Lloyd had ever known. For his part, Tyler hated Lloyd’s sullen disposition, lack of regard for other people’s opinions, and most of all, for being a superior athlete. 

When he was caught cheating on her the week before junior prom, April had asked Lloyd to be her date. He knew the goal was to twist the knife in Tyler’s side and had accepted the invitation. They went to prom together and ended up dating until graduation. 

“Tell me about your husband,” Lloyd said. 

“Michael. We met in college, but didn’t date until after. He’s a lawyer.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” 

“Is he tall, dark, and handsome… with a mustache?”

April snorted. “No, no, yes, and absolutely not. I know you aren’t married, because no woman would tolerate that facial hair. You should grow a beard.” 

“My girlfriend doesn’t mind it.”

Lloyd felt a ripple of concern at how naturally the word ‘girlfriend’ rolled off his tongue, but pushed it aside. He considered April - the first and last woman to hold that title - and shook his head. 

“I can’t believe you stuck around.” 

“I didn’t hate it here, you did.”

“I had to get away. You know why.” 

April nodded. She picked at the label on her drink and lowered her voice.

“How did you feel, when they told you he was dead?”

“Shocked, disbelieving. More of the latter, to be honest. The hospital called and explained but I just… I thought he couldn’t die.”

“Are you okay, being back? Like, here, in this house?” 

Lloyd shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Have you been in touch with your family?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m it.”

April raised an eyebrow. “Your sisters?”

He looked away. 

“You never searched for them? After all these years? I…” she broke off. “Lloyd? Did something happen to them?” 

“I can’t say for sure. I didn’t look them up because I knew what I’d find.” 

“What do you mean?”

“My mother couldn’t take care of them. Even back then, I knew.” 

“She left the summer before fifth grade, right?”

“Yeah. My father was away, it was just me and the girls. The house was peaceful. That’s what I remember most about those last days.” 

April’s brow creased in confusion, so he explained.

“She didn’t have any of her normal outbursts, episodes, whatever you’d call them. Looking back, she must have started on some kind of antipsychotic meds. A few days before Dad returned I woke up to an empty house.” 

He looked out at the barnyard and saw it as it was thirty years ago. Almost exactly thirty years to the day, he realized with a jolt. 

“Her car was gone. Josephine’s closet was empty and so was Ingrid’s. Only some of my mother’s things had been taken, but when I saw the suitcases were missing, I knew they weren’t coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” April whispered. 

She reached across the table and covered his hand. Lloyd folded his fingers around hers.

“I hate remembering. I can’t go through the barn without thinking of Ingrid and that evil little Shetland who bit everyone. I taught her to saddle him, but I think I put on his bridle every time she wanted to ride.”

“Clever girl.”

Lloyd smiled. “She’d hunt for arrowheads with me. Josie used to go with us because if we didn’t take her, she’d cry and that would set Mom off. She liked to collect flowers and press them in parchment. The first night here, I went into her room and…” 

Emotion choked him. A piece of wax paper had fallen from the pages of one of her story books. It was a bright, cheerful Black-eyed Susan. He’d stood there staring at it, as if it were a rattlesnake. 

Lloyd shuddered. 

“My mother may as well have driven them off a cliff, instead of off the ranch. I never looked them up… not knowing is easier.” 

April squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“When I was in prison, the psychiatrist asked me if I’d ever felt love. The question made me furious. I couldn’t believe he’d think me incapable of such a basic emotion, but then I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt love - no offense -”

“None taken.”

“I knew my reaction was genuine, but until Monday night when I saw the rocking chair, I couldn’t figure out where it had come from.” 

Their eyes drifted to the pine rocker by the front window.

“That’s where they let me hold Josie for the first time.”

April squeezed his hand. “Is your girlfriend coming for the funeral? I’d love to meet her.”

“No. I didn’t want her to see me like this.”

Lloyd turned his hand, bringing hers to rest on top, and studied the impressive diamond ring on her left finger. 

“Nice rock.”

“It spends most of its time on a chain around my neck. That’s what he gets for marrying a vet.” 

He used his thumb to turn the ring left and right, admiring the way it caught the light.

“I knew we wouldn’t last, but I loved you, April.”

“Not really. We were good friends, Lloyd. But it didn’t run deeper than that on either side and you were turning bitter.” 

She paused, eyeing him curiously as her tongue traced the edge of her upper teeth.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What happened between you and Coach Olsen?”

Lloyd slipped his hand free at the naming of his former football coach. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s been decades and I’m still curious.”

“Olsen took bribes. USC paid him to make sure I didn’t sign with Harvard.”

“But you liked Harvard the most.” 

“He was stringing them along, making it sound like I hadn’t decided so the money kept flowing. Obviously, that’s not kosher with the NCAA.” 

“He put your scholarship at risk. I understand why you cut ties.”

His lips twisted. 

“It was more than that. I got a call from USC in July, which was odd because I’d already committed to Harvard. Their rep let it slip about Olsen. I was livid. Mind meltingly furious, unlike anything I’d felt before.” 

The memory made his stomach pitch. Something visceral had come over him and he’d felt his mind loosen, allowing the monster to emerge. The dam holding back years of rage burst and nothing could stem the tide.

“I’d worried I was like Joe, but until that night I wasn’t sure. Whatever had held me in check snapped. I don’t remember the drive into town, just walking across the field and seeing lights on in the shed. Olsen was in the office, working. The football shed wasn’t air conditioned back then, so the garage door was open.” 

The scene played behind his eyes, undistorted by time. He saw the white cinder block shed and felt the thrill of finding his prey. Later, that feeling had become an addiction, better than cocaine and longer lasting than ecstasy. 

“I snuck under the garage door into the storage area. They’d brought in the baseball equipment and there was a rack of bats beside the door. On my way through, I grabbed one. He turned when I stepped into the office and started to speak. I swung for his head but he ducked, so I only clipped him. He rushed me, and I struck his right knee, got him on the ground, and then…”

He remembered it in flashes. The sound of bones crunching, screams, then agonized cries. 

When he’d snapped out of the trance there were blisters on his palms.

“I thought I’d killed him. That’s why I left for college a month early. When the team went to state a few years later, I read he was still their coach. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather.”

April stared at him. “That was you?! We thought there was a psychopath running around town!”

“There was.”

“I don’t agree with everything you did, but your reaction was understandable.” 

“The only thing I regret is not saying goodbye to you.”

“I figured you wanted a clean break. Once I accepted it was what you needed, I got over it. But I worried about you. I figured we’d stay in touch, you know?” 

He hadn’t wanted anyone too close to him, not after realizing what he was capable of. If he was a monster then the safest place for April was far away from him. Hence, why she remained his first and last girlfriend. 

“Speaking of the past…” April frowned. “Have you spoken to Elliot lately?”

Lloyd’s eyebrows rose. “Elliot? No.” 

The mention of his cousin surprised him. 

Elliot Hansen was the illegitimate son of his father’s sister and some drug dealer from Boise. The drug dealer had vanished upon learning of the pregnancy and two years later, his aunt committed suicide, orphaning her young son. Joe refused to acknowledge him and Elliot became a ward of the state. Like his parents, Elliot got hooked on drugs early and by the end of highschool, he’d been a certified junkie.

“He went to rehab and was working down in Nevada. When your father took a turn for the worse, he came back to help. For the past few months he’s been on Sheriff Holbrook’s list.” 

“Is he on drugs again?” 

“No. I knew Holbrook was shaking you down when I saw the traffic stop because he did the same thing to Elliot.”

“Which earned you a warning to stay out of police business,” Lloyd said. 

“I pay my taxes, I have the right to be nosy.” 

“Damn it, April. I told you Holbrook was dangerous. Why would you put yourself in his line of fire for that lowlife?” 

Her glare was withering. “He kicked meth without anyone’s help and re-built his life from nothing. Don’t call him names.” 

“Fine.” Lloyd held up his hands. “No name calling. Please, continue.”

“I caught the end of their argument. There was something about the ranch and ‘mercury’ but I couldn’t hear anything more.” 

“Did you ask Elliot about it?” 

She shook her head. “No, because I haven’t seen Elliot in two weeks. I’m worried about him, Lloyd. I think something’s happened to him.” 

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Next - Part XIV

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