#alana hall

[rededgerp]

Congratulations Nicole! You’ve been accepted as your first choice of Victoria Justice (Alana Hall)! Please send in the account within the next 24 hours!

X ABOUT YOU

Name: (or alias) Nicole

↳ Pronouns: She/Her

↳ Age: 41

↳ Activity: (How often you’ll be on.) As often as I can.

✖ ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER

↳ Celebrity Desired: (Who you really, really want to play) Victoria Justice

↳ Second Celebrity: (Should you not get your first character, this is who you’ll want to play) Sofia Carson

↳ Character Name: (Also state if they’re related to anyone please) Alana ‘Lana’ Summer Hall

↳ Character’s Pronouns: She/Her

↳ Occupation: (Are they a teacher, bartender, actress, influencer, etc?) Bartender/Influencer.

↳ Birthday: (We need it for the Birthday Calendar) February 19, 1993

↳ Background: Lana comes from a broken family. Her father lives in Australia with his new girlfriend named Amanda and her two children. She is currently attending FIDM.

↳ Para: (One to two paragraphs in character form of the character that you’re applying for. If you’re already in the group and this is your second, third or fourth character, then no para sample is needed.) Slamming her sketchbook down, Alana threw her pencil across the room, a look of frustration on her face. She was having a serious case of drawing block. Checking the clock on her desk, she groans when she realizes that she was going to be late for work if she didn’t get going now. Rushing around the room, she struggled to get ready for her job at the local bar. Finally getting dressed, she left the room and got in her car, driving to the Seven Grand. Pulling into the parking lot of the bar, she got of her vehicle and entered the establishment.

↳ Anything Else? (If there’s something about your character that we need to know please state it here. Did you read the rules?): No. Yes, I read the rules.

[soranatus]

Halle Bailey as Ariel with Tiana & Cinderella, and her older sisters!  By Veronika Kushnareva

[i-heart-yellowstone]

25 - Cowboys in the Hospital

Part 26

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @whatelsecouldgowrong

Helena Hospital 

Kayce was seated in one of the lobby chairs in the hospital nervously tapping his boots on the tile floor needing something to distract his mind from what was happening. 

Gripping his hair in his hands tightly he wanted all the bad thoughts to get out of his head.  Hearing footsteps he heard Alana’s voice call out to him.  “Kayce, I say this with love.  But you don’t look too good.  Maybe you should go home and get some rest.” 

“I can’t leave her.  I can't leave, especially while she's still in surgery.” He shot his head upright offended that she even suggested that idea. 

The blonde walked forward pausing in front of her brother in law nervously.  “Look I'm not trying to make you upset.  It's just right now we can't do anything.  It's up to the doctors.” 

“The last time someone said that to me was when Alissa was in labor with Faith.” He growled through tears, seeing pain flash across the woman's face.  “I almost lost them both that day.  I refuse to sit here and feel helpless.” 

Alana softly tried to get his attention.  “Kayce, you shouldn't be by yourself right now.” 

“Go fight that dang detective to get her out of this mess.  I'll be fine on my own for a few hours.” He pushed himself up from the chair heading in the opposite direction in the hospital hallway.  He shoved his hands inside his jacket pocket, looking at his appearance in the reflection of the glass window. 

The youngest Dutton looked like a wreck.  His eyes red from crying after they had rolled his wife into surgery.  His hair was disheveled and greasy.  Running his hands down his face he recalled one day that could have been the worst day of his life, but it became the greatest day since his daughter was born. 

Kayce jumped out of his father’s truck rushing over to the backseat passenger side, flinging opened the door getting ready to help his girlfriend out of the vehicle.  John had drove them to the hospital and the other family members were following shortly behind them. 

“Kayce - I - I don't think I can do this - oohhh!” Alissa winced, getting rolled in a wheelchair, holding her belly that looked like it might explode any minute. 

Once they had gotten rolled in the room he helped the nurse gets her up in the bed.  “Don’t think like that, honey.  You're the strongest person I know.” 

“Don’t leave me here.” I grasped my hand in his, where he dropped down onto his knees holding my hand tightly. 

“There’s no way in hell I would do that, Lissa Rae.” 

The doctor named Amber came into the room all dressed in her scrubs and gloves looking at the vital screen that monitors the baby and his wife.  “Good morning Ms. Lambert, it appears that you are completely dilated and ready to give birth to your baby girl.  Are you ready?” 

“I guess so.” She gulped nervously, squeezing her fiancé's hand that was holding hers.  

Alissa began pushing with everything she had until it had been hours later and the baby still hadn’t come out.  She lays her head against the pillows trying to catch her breath, feeling Kayce brush her hair from her sweaty forehead.  “You’re doing so good, babe.” 

“Mr. Dutton, we’re going to have to change her delivery method.  The baby is upside down so we will have to deliver her through a C-section.” The doctor explained once the nurses began putting IV’s into Alissa’s arm. 

Alissa called out to her husband in fear.  “Kayce - I - what does that mean?  I - I want you to be there with me.” 

“I’m sorry ma’am but it’s not allowed by protocol.” A nurse responded with a disappointing look on her face at seeing the young sixteen year old that was about to become a teen mom. 

Young Kayce squeezed his soon to be wife’s hand sobbing heavily after he had attempted to be strong for his terrified lover.  “You’re going to make it through this surgery.  And when you wake up we’re gonna have a beautiful daughter.” 

“Mr.  Dutton, we need to get her into surgery right away.” Dr. Amber declared, reminding the young couple. 

Alissa croaked through tears.  “I love you, Kayce John.” 

“I love you, Lissa Rae.” Kayce kissed her lips gently letting her hand slip from his watching the hospital staff take her into surgery leaving him in the room feeling completely powerless in that moment. 

Kayce had come out of the bathroom seeing Detective Dillard standing in the hallway with Alana who went over to him.  “The detective just informed me that they are beginning to examine both articles of clothing.” 

“How long will that take?” He asked her. 

She shrugged her shoulders sadly.  “I don’t have an answer for that.  I’m sorry.” 

“So we’re still stuck waiting.” Kayce sharply turned his head hearing an alarm start going off.  “What the hell does that mean?” 

“That’s a disconnect code.” One of the nurses at the desk scrambled to her feet seeing something that the other three people didn’t.  “Oh my god. Oh my god.” 

Kayce spins on his feet bolting to the end of the hallway in pure panic.  “Who’s room is that coming from?  My wife’s or my father’s?” 

“We will handle this.  Step back, sir.” Another nurse gently put her hand on Kayce’s chest.  Kayce quickly looked around the room not caring what he did next.  The nurse went to touch his arm and tried to get him to sit back down.  “Please step back, sir - ah!”

“Alissa!” Kayce called out his wife’s name punching the nurse where she collapsed onto the ground. 

She held her head firing off a code name.  “We have a code White in process.” 

“Alissa! - Get your hands off of me.” Kayce got slammed into the nurses desk by a hospital officer that pushed his elbow into the youngest Dutton’s throat in an attempt to hold him down. 

Detective Dillard came around the corner with Alana before his sister in law shoved the hospital officer off of her brother in law.  “Are you trying to kill him!” 

“I’m answering the code White call.  He throat punched a nurse.” 

Alana got up in the hospital officer's face with a snarky tone in her response.  “He’s the current Livestock Commissioner meaning he is an agent of the State that you just attempted to assult.  His father is the Governor and his wife is also currently in surgery.  So how about you cut him some slack unless you want me to charge you with assault charges.” 

“What.  What is, what is today?” The group heard the patient that was awake speaking to someone down the opposite hallway from where they were standing. 

One of the nurses answered.  “Thursday.” 

“What month?” 

The same woman answered.  “August. You need to lay down.” 

“Been laying down long enough.” 

A voice over a radio informing the staff.  “We have a code three.  422 I. C. U. “

“What’s a code three?” The unknown patient asked. 

Kayce and Alana whipped their heads around knowing that voice without a doubt of even seeing the person yet.   Meanwhile Beth was walking back from the coffee maker with a glass cup in her hands, walking down the hallway with the nurses and the unknown awake patient.  The glass mug slipped from her hands shattering to pieces on the tile floor. “Daddy.” 

“Where’s Alissa?” John asked his daughter, holding onto the medication walker that was connected to the iv needle sticking into his arm. 

Beth weakly answered him.  “She’s in surgery.  They - the police were accusing her of attempted murder on your life.” 

“Dad - you’re awake.  Dillard, he’s awake now!” Kayce and Alana moved standing behind Beth watching the doctors move him back into his room and sit on the bed.  

Detective Dillard walked up behind them about to say something else.  “We need to give him time to recover before I question him.  He’s been in a coma for almost a month -“ 

“You here my father’s side of the story and start fucking clearing my wife’s name.  And if you do anything else except that I will make sure you pay for it regardless of what charges you pin on me!” Kayce shoved Dillard harshly against the nearest wall, getting up in his face with bared teeth. 

Dillard nervously nodded his head in agreement quickly.  “I understand, Commissioner Dutton.” Alana eyed the two men with a hopeful smile that they would finally get her sister home and figure out who had sent those men to kill the Governor. 

[denver-carrington]

Maxwell Caulfield (Miles), Juliet Mills (Rosalind), and Jack Coleman (Steven) were some of the celebrities who attended a recent cocktail party to celebrate the U.S. release of Joan's book, Behind the Shoulder Pads. Photo 1: Posted on Tumblr by joancollinscollection Photo 2: Posted on Facebook by Stefanie Powers Photo 3: Posted on Instagram by Beth Coleman

[remaineds]

closed starter for @heartintact !

"i half expected you to be gone when i woke up," she mumbles sleepily into his shoulder, body half draped over his, duvet hitting just above her hips. "but like in a, god cast down a plague specifically to turn steven into dust kind of way." thinks she might be mixing up her metaphors, but she's far too satisfied with last night's activities to care. "i'm glad you're still here, though, don't get me wrong. if God needs a character witness at your judgement, feel free to send him my number. i'll sing your praises." she can't get through the sentence without laughing, lifting her head from his shoulder to smirk up at him. knows she's rambling now, but she feels light and happy, and a happy alana is a talkative one.

[touchbased]

closed starter for @heartintact !

no one's asked her a question, or even acknowledged her, in twenty minutes. and while alana understands she isn't exactly high on the list of priorities when it comes to a baptism celebration, it feels more isolating than it should. as though this dinner only serves as further proof that she doesn't quite fit in here. until, "oh. uh," did the hot priest really just ask her something? after she basically accused him of drowning newborns? "i own a store. mostly knick-knacks and gag gifts."

[auradoniandreams]

Some things I'd like to see in the TLM live-action:

More of Ariel with her sisters. How do they get along? How do they react after she goes missing? How do they feel about her love for the world above?

Flashbacks of her mother, mayhaps? I know it's not central to the story but I love a good flashback scene 👉👈

More of Ariel spending time in the human world, discovering the cuisine, the arts, the good stuff AND the bad stuff, etc

Some backstory and developement for Eric, like where are his parents, or why he loves the sea so much

How did Ariel fall in love with the human world? Why does Triton hate it so much? (I mean they sort of imply that it's because her mother was killed by pirates, but he never really says it directly, and I feel like that would be an interesting theme to tackle; the fact that humans are simultaneously the reason why Ariel grew up without a mother AND the ones behind all of these amazing cultural items/ traditions/ etc that she loves. And, y'know, Eric)

More time spent developing Ariel and Eric's relationship...yes, I know Ariel lost her voice, but like sign language is a thing, and so is writing. You're Disney, you can figure something out

I'd like to see Ariel's inner conflict get explored more. Does she feel bad after leaving her family? Does she feel like she doesn't belong in the underwater world? How does she feel about her father? What kind of mark has her mother's death left on her?

I could literally go on for a few more hours, but I feel like this post is getting too long. Anyways, I'd love to scream about this with someone, so feel free to reply/rb and add ur own stuff, or just dm if you also have The Little Mermaid brainrot

[unratedmagazine]

Country Thunder 2023

Country Thunder 2023 Canyon Moon Ranch 20585 E Water Way Florence, Arizona April 11-14, 2024 by Mary Andrews Country Thunder (CT) hosts festivals in Arizona, Wisconsin, Florida, Bristol, Alberta, and Saskatchewan during the year. Country music has hit a momentous popularity throughout North America in recent years and Arizona is no exception to the rule. The four-day festival did not…

[planetpedri]

Strawberries — Marc Guiu.

Pairing: Marc Guiu x Fem!Reader

Summary: As a strawberry enthusiast, you never share them with anyone, not even your best friends. So when you, without hesitation, hand Marc one the second he asks, your best friend cannot help but point it out.

Disclaimer/s: This is high school based!

A/N: I Love You Marc Guiu. You Will Be Mine…….. part two !

Sitting down at the lunch table in between your friend, Alana, you pull out your lunch box. Today had been exhausting to say the least and you were just glad to have the thirty minute break to munch on your favorite snack, strawberries.

Alana glances at you, an amused look on her face as she reached over to snag one of the fresh berries. Your reflexes kick in immediately, hand jolting to swat the tan girls hand far away from them.

Wincing, Alana draws back, “hello!?”

Laughter escaped Lamine’s muth at the typical interaction, only dying down once Marc and Héctor finally make their appearance.

You force a conversation change, bringing up how annoying your maths teacher is. As the topics moves along and you finally come to realize he, Marc, was sitting right alongside you, his thigh grazing yours. Your face flushes slightly as you clear your throat, trying to engross yourself with the conversation at hand.

All too aware of his effect on you, Marc leans into your side. “Can I have one?” He asks, a smile on his face as he does so.

Consumed in your ever growing heart rate, you nod, grabbing not one, but two of the red berries and setting them down in front of the boy.

Thats when the table goes silent. Everyone’s eyes flicker between you and Marc, all eyebrows quirked. “Did anyone else just…” Héctor speaks slowly, his index finger motioning between you two.

Your face burns a bright red as you glance at Marc, watching him bite into the strawberry with a smirk. He was enjoying this.

“Oh, so this is insane.” Alana huffs, “just because he’s a little pretty he gets one but not your best friend?”

“A little?” Marc furrows his eyebrows, but is ignored.

You stumble over your words, trying to figure out how to save yourself from this awkward moment. “Uhm—I was just distracted, I didn’t realize–“

Alana tsk’s, “So what? Do I need to get you to fall in love with me too, to get a berry out of you?—Ouch!?”

Kicking the girl under the table twice, you groan. “Alana!” You snap, eyes wide and jaw agape as she’d literally just outed you.

Once again, the table goes silent. A mixture of amusement and tension flooding the air between the five friends.

Héctor is finding it all amusing, Alana is spewing apologies, Lamine is giggling like a school girl, and Marc… Marc is grinning like an idiot.

Your heart is beating irregularly as you avoid Marc’s amused gaze. “I am so not in love with you, do not get any ideas.” You quickly add, beginning to pack up your stupid.. stupid.. strawberries.

A calloused hand covers yours, stopping you from cupping the cover on. Your breath hitches as your eyes fly in Marc’s direction.

“Chillax.” He smiles, a small laugh escaping his perfect lips. “Just eat your strawberries.”

Maybe you could also put a memory forgetting spell on the whole table while you’re at it.

Sucking in a breath of air, you nod. “Right. Totally.”

“Soo..” Alana starts, immediately being shut up by Lamine, who sends her a warning look. “Oh, fuck you.”

“You’re the one who can’t keep her mouth shut!”

While those two begin a rant of insults toward each other, Marc leans in close to your ear, “we’ll talk later.. when we’re alone?”

Your lips form a thin line, “or not..?”

“I’ll meet you in the library during study hall.” He laughs, patting your knee affectionately. And it stays there, for the rest of lunch, both of you smiling like idiots.

DT(s): @halfwayhearted ^_^

[threadsoflacee]

Hi, I'm new to the fandom and unsure who to ask my questions. I recently joined Tumblr and came across your posts while browsing the Hannibal meta tag. I have a few questions: What are Hannibal's feelings towards Bedelia and Alana? I remember Mads once said that Hannibal is in love with everyone on the show to some extent, so what exactly does love mean to him? Also, I'm having trouble understanding the line by Will: "You will only do that if I rejected you" (sorry, I paraphrased). I apologize if these are too many questions. Thanks in advance!

Haiiii welcome to the fandom !!! This will be my own perception of things so if I’m wrong in any way it’s on me !!! Ok so. Hannibal has a very hierarchical scale on his friends and lovers. Don’t know if U finished the show but in s3, Hannibal sees Alana in his Memory Palace as having a deserved place in his psychiatric office in Baltimore, which shows that he has respect for her and she’s a big enough part of his life to occupy the more intelligent part of his attention. We can compare that to how he sees Will as having the first place in the chapel in Palermo, the Uffizi gallery, and the front door of his childhood home, that he described as "it’s the door at the center of my mind, and here you are feeling for the latch", and in a deleted dialogue in the script "you stumbled into the hall of my beginnings". Will is the one who has the most importance in his mind ! Alana is below that. So to Hannibal she’s only a past lover, past work colleague, and an asset to get closer to Will (like when he promised her he would save Will). In s2 he had sex with her ONLY for the alibi when he killed Abel Gideon. So he could tell Jack he was up all night sexing it up when he was actually cutting it up in Gideons guts. OK NOW BEDELIA !!!!! He doesn’t gaf abt her. They only got married under false pretenses so Hannibal wouldn’t get caught in Italy after the whole Mizumono thing. He cuts off her leg at the very end of the show (past the credits after the cliff fall). 1 scene that shows how annoyed he actually is with her is when he kills Anthony Dimmond in front of her, Bedelia is obviously in shock, and he raises her voice at her when she doesn’t answer his questions in time. She couldn’t even be a proper asset because of how sensitive she was to murder (as she should !!!!!). So to Hannibal she was only a piece in the puzzle in his grand scheme of Need To Kiss Will.

Ok now for the second question ! Will saying "you turned yourself in so I would always know where you were. you’d only do that if i rejected you" could mean two things. 1. Will knows that Hannibal is in love with him, or at least desperately devoted, and him saying this is like poking at where it hurts saying "you’re so in love with me you’d ruin your entire life if i rejected you" Which in this case ruining his life is Hannibal turning himself in to the police. 2. Will WANTED Hannibal to be put in jail so it could be done once and for all. He told him "I don’t want to know where you are or what you do" which is clearly saying Get the fuck out of my life we are Done breakup style not entirely out of hatred, but also because he KNEW Hannibal would manipulate his words. And since Will knows Hannibal’s mind so well, he knew Hannibal would find a way to turn this sudden dynamic / domination dynamic around and find a way to put Will in the lesser spot ; which is what he accomplished by turning himself in. He even told him "I want you to know exactly where I am and where you can always find me". In this way Will would always think about him and know against his will where he is and what he’s doing since Hannibal is in prison.

To Hannibal Love is violence. Maybe u read my post abt Will’s question "is Hannibal in love with me?" !!! Hannibal’s love is violence in the way that love and ache gets mixed together. It’s distance and intimacy. It’s sharing meals and music together and isolating Will from all of his friends so they can only be together (Hannibal referenced their relationship to Achilles and Patroclus with the phrase "Achilles wished all Greeks would die so he and Patroclus could conquer Troy alone"). It’s the stabbing wound that Will sees in his nightmare bleeding out his stomach into a bite then a kiss !!! The bite shape is symbolism of possessiveness and the kiss is love. He never fell in love with Alana or Bedelia. He appreciated them as friends, people to fill his days with, and assets to manipulate and eventually guide himself into Will’s way by scaring and erasing everyone that would try to stop him. Will is the only one who Hannibal truly loves on all aspects of the spectrum. Emotionally, physically, psychologically, and selflessly.

Ok now im done lol. I hope this helped !!!

[graciebrams]

𓇢𓆸 get to know me

hi I'm ema you can call me em or ems <3 my pronouns are she/her, desi 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎐🌟💌

✧ i ١٥٧٤ : rose gold, silver jewellery, coffee, books, ribbons, hoop earrings, lipgloss, handwritten letters, choclate, colours pink, brown and sage green, bracelets, cats, ballet flats, sundresses, rings, sunsets, dried out flower petals, collecting old movie tickets, etc ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav artists : gracie abrams, taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, lexi jayde, eileen alister, alessi rose, alix page, maise peters, birdy, the nbhd, chase atlantics, the weeknd, johnny orlando, harry styles, lizzy mcalpine, beabadoobee, girl in red, olivia rodrigo, evanescance, ROLEMODLE, phoebe bridgers, 1D, billie eilish, finneas, lexi caroll, clairo, conan gray, cate, CAS, gracen reign, madison beer, mazzy stars, MARINA, lyn lapid ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

✧ fav shows: gilmore girls, anne with an e, lockwood and co., two broke girls, derry girls, b99, my mad fat diary, opposite sex, YOU, insatiable, the office, the good doctor, dash and lily, the irregulars, my life with the walter boys, the summer i turned pretty, friends, breaking bad, girl meets world, my lady jane, maxton hall, ted lasso, supernatural, gossip girl, the oc, bridgerton, OBX. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav youtubers: carys rachel, ceri jones, heather wotherspoon, ur internet mom ash, luna montana, audrey mika, basicgorl, just sharon, naomi victoria, anna lenks, niki and gabi, layze, sarah betts, emma chamberlain, ahaspoofy, tia gabriella, caitlyn marie, nailea, sadie aldis, grace's room, sturniolo triplets, tara yummy, benoftheweek, larray, madeline argy, sab quesada, cam and fam, kalogera sisters, quen blackwell, alana lintao, sam and colby, melieya, kailpeery, nick wilkins. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

✧ other favs: sophia birlem, sadie sink, cailey spainey, lola tung, chris briney, daisy edgar jones, amybeth mcnulty, lily collins, rowan blanchard, nicola coughlan, emma stone, sarah carpenter, cory foeglmanis, diana silvers, nicholas hoult, caitlyn dever, lauren graham, sarosie ronan, anne hathway, tom holland, zendaya, andrew garfield, laura marano, florence pugh, jenna ortega, cooper koch, harrison osterfield, harry holland, sam holland, paddy holland, tuwaine barett. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav movies: little women (1994 and 2019), the princess diaries (1 and 2), anne of green gables, carrie 1976, roman holiday, sabrina (1954), qala, freaky friday, legally blonde, 13 going on 30, to all the boys, kissing booth, adventures in babysitting, 16 wishes, 16 candles, how to build a better boy, priscilla 2023, the fault in our stars, dirty dancing, love rosie, stuck in love, tolkien, the devil all the time, all spiderman and marvel movies, uncharted,

prev urls : sparksssflytv -> graciebrams

• divider by @issysh3ll

[i-heart-yellowstone]

28 - Ticket to the Train Station

Part 29

Raised Fair Share of Hell

holy crap y'all this is the longest chapter I have ever written for Yellowstone. So you'll have to come back for more 😉

Stomping into the living room Kayce and I entered into the living room of the Dutton house with so many emotions running through the back of our heads I knew it wouldn’t be long before one of us snapped over we had just had been told by one of John’s former workers in the Governor's office. 

Seated on the long leather couch was my mother Eliza and my father in law John Dutton who both had concerned looks on their faces not knowing why they had been called here but would soon find out. 

Alana was sitting in one of the armchairs keeping her gaze focused on me before we heard footsteps entering the room revealing Beth who looked like she wanted to bite into somebody’s neck if she could.  “What has that motherfucker done now?” 

“He’s set to become Governor in a few days.  Apparently with John coming home for two months there’s some rule that the job and power get passed down to the next most powerful person in line whence just so happens to be your brother.” 

Beth snapped a correction at me.  “He’s not my brother anymore.” 

“So wait simply because John returned home to rest instead of immediately returning to his Governor duties he just lost the job that the people of Montana voted him into.  That doesn’t add up at all.” My sister brought a hand to her mouth resting her chin in the palm of her hand. 

John picked up his glass filled with whiskey taking a long sip from it.  “He was taken out of the will after he gave an entire piece of how bad of a man I was long ago.  Now we just need to make sure when he goes away, he goes away for good.” 

“He goes to the fucking train station, daddy.” Beth growls, pouring herself a glass of whiskey. 

My mother Eliza sat upright glancing between our small group.  “Wait.  What’s the Train Station?  Is it an actual station?  Are you planning on running him out of town?” 

“Um honey, can I speak to you for a second?” Kayce tugged my wrist gently leading me into the kitchen whispering to me.  “Did you never tell them about where the bad people who attack this place go?” 

Brushing my hair out of my face I sucked in a breath.  “I didn’t think they would ever need to know.” 

“Alissa!” Kayce ran his hands down his face. 

Raising my hands up in surrender I begged my husband to understand why I hadn’t told my mother or sister about the trash can we refereed as the Train Station.  “Look I know how it looks but I didn’t think they needed to know.  I mean Lee could have told Alana, but it was his choice not to, not mine.  As for my mother, she likely wouldn’t approve.  If my father was still alive you’d be lying in the ground dead from one of his shotguns.” 

“So how likely are they going to help us get rid of Jamie once they tell them what it really is huh?” Kayce whisper-shouted at me pointing his index finger at my chest. 

Hitting my hands on my thighs I lowered my gaze to my muddy boots.  “I don’t know.  I’m hoping they won’t freak out but that’s as far as my brain has gone.” 

“I guess let’s just go see how this goes.  I’ll let my father tell’em.” Kayce removed his hat hanging it on the wall before we went back into the large living room seeing all eyes on us.  My husband gestured to his father.  “Tell’em dad.” 

John pushed himself up his seat on the couch standing and facing the two women in the room whose lives were about to change the minute they found out this family secret.  “It’s a trash can for everyone who’s attacked us.  It lies in a jurisdictional dead zone in a county with a population of exactly zero.  Hence no jury of your peers and no court for a change in venue.” 

“So you mean that you - the men who killed our father went there.” My sister covered her mouth holding back tears. 

John bent his head down wiping at his mouth with his freehand.  “Yes, Lana.  The men who attacked our ranches went there.” 

“Oh god.  I might be sick.” My sister got up rushing to the bathroom. 

John focused his gaze on my mother who had her mouth opened in utter shock, not having said a word so he kept explaining the deep dark secret.  “We found a way to circumvent the consequences of defending ourselves.  I’m shocked we need a way, but we do.  We always have.  Unless we’re willing to walk away from 120 years of our family bleeding into this ground we always will.” 

“John-“ Eliza began crying, still not processing everything he had said. 

The owner of the largest ranch in Montana spared his neighbor a disappointed look.  “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Eliza.” 

My mother bolted up from the couch running out the front door slamming the front door.  Leaving my husband’s side I followed after my mother knowing she was struggling with this.  The front door shut behind me where I saw my mother leaning over the railing clutching the front of her chest.  “Mom.  Mom - I’m - I’m sorry.  I should have told you about this-“ 

“How did you find out about this and not tell me and your father about this?” She spun on her feet, tears streaming down her face. 

Dropping my hands down to my sides I take a few steps towards her hoping she doesn’t hit me in response.  “Kayce decided he’d rather not lose by lying to me but simply by the actions that he makes himself.  The night we had wed he told me the secret.  I don’t - I wish I had a better reason for why I didn’t tell you but I don’t.” 

“I’m relieved your father isn’t around to hear this.” My mother sat down in the nearest chair. 

Twiddling my fingers together I apologized softly to her and to myself I suppose.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth from the start.” 

The front door creaked open causing me to glance over my shoulder seeing my husband waving me back inside the house.  “Beth, has a plan.  If she’s up to hearing it.” 

“I think I’ve traumatized her enough for one day.” 

My mother rose from her seat walking past me and into the cabin.  “Let’s see what this plan is.  How’s Alana?” 

“She’s back from the bathroom sitting on the couch.  Beth made her some tea to help calm her nerves.” Kayce answered her question letting us walk inside before he shut the door behind himself following us back to the main room. 

Beth was sitting in front of the window seal, Alana was on the couch and my mother had sat down right beside her.  Finally my gaze focused on my father in law who was standing in the center front of the burning fireplace with one of his hands resting on the mantle and his head hanging low, eyeing his boots. 

“John.  What exactly is the plan here?” I took two steps forward feeling the intense air in the living room. 

Beth brought an un-lit cigarette to her lips.  “We’re going to give Jamie one option and if he refuses we will then kill him.” 

“I’ve gotta teach you some things really quick.  I’ll fill you in on the way to his office.” Kayce informed me eyeing his sister.  He headed upstairs grabbing a few things leaving me alone with our families. 

Beth came over to me taking my hands into her own, looking over to the picture on the wall above the fireplace. “I need you to lie to Jamie.  Come up with something he won’t be able to think isn’t true.  That is the most important part of the plan.” The picture she was staring at was the one that had me, Kayce, Tate and Faith all gathered around a campfire that John had taken a couple years ago. 

“Wait, what exactly is the plan?” I questioned her, still unaware of the whole plan they had cooked up. 

My sister in law turned on her heels going over to my sibling and our mother before my husband took me out to his truck.  “To get rid of Jamie.  That’s the plan.  My brother will fill you in on everything else that has to happen for the ranch to be safe.” 

Kayce parked the Livestock Commissioner truck in an empty parking lot near the government state house building.  Climbing out of the passenger seat of the vehicle I shut the door gently, going around the tailgate to meet up with my husband.  “What exactly are we doing out here in the parking lot?  I thought we were going to handle Jamie.” 

“I need to teach you some defense moves that you’ll have to use on my brother.  He would suspect me coming to see him because I listen to Beth.  But you’re different, he’ll listen to you.” He explained reaching inside his brown jacket, taking out a handgun, holding it out towards me.  “Take this.  Just in case you need a weapon.” 

“Kayce , I - what do I need to know?” I reached for it, pushing the handgun in my back pocket hiding it underneath my orange jacket. 

“When I would do snatches in Afghanistan you would approach someone from behind -  make contact with the carotid artery. “ He wrapped one of his arms around my throat, choking me lightly once he had put my back to face his front.  I gasped before he removed his arm and I was able to properly breathe again.  “The longer you deprive the blood to the brain, the longer the subject stays unconscious.  That’s what we need you to do to him.” 

Locking eyes with my husband I sucked in a breath putting on the bravest look I could manage.  Kayce dropped me off at the front door and pulled away watching me walk inside the federal government building.  Walking past Jamie’s receptionist I went straight into his office slamming the door closed where Jamie quickly got up from his desk chair.  “Alissa.  What are you doing here?  Is everything okay?” 

“Child protective services has taken my daughter from me!” The words flew from my mouth and I began sobbing the most tears I could muster. 

Jamie came over to me grabbing my shoulders, concern clear all over his face.  “What.  How, how did this happen?” 

“The detectives found my fingerprints on the gun used to shoot your father.  They’re coming to arrest me right now and take her away.” Putting my face in my hands I collapsed onto my knees crying.  “Please Jamie.  Please help me - she’s my only child.” 

He bent down offering me a hand to help me stand upright.  “What can I do?  I’ll do anything for Faith.” 

“Even attempting to murder her grandpa because you stupidly believed a Market Equides woman cared about what you wanted.” Lifting my head up from my hands I glared up at the Dutton lawyer. 

Jamie stared at me, still very much confused.  “What, what, how do you know about me and Sarah?” 

“What do you think, your sister.  Now I know what you’re going to do the second I make my next move but remember that you are not the one in control here.  We are, not you.” 

Jamie took a step backwards slightly.  “We.  Who’s we?” 

“Keep your mouth shut and walk out like nothing is wrong.  Don’t you dare tell your receptionist to call the Capital police.” Drawing out the handgun from under my jacket I quickly grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. I pressed the barrel into his back. 

He whimpered, opening the office door while I led him towards the main entrance door.  “Alissa, I would never hurt you and Faith intentionally. Please let me explain-“ 

“You should have remembered that before you made the police put me away in prison for something I didn’t commit.” Shoving him outside the double doors he stumbled out into the parking lot falling into my husband’s chest who was standing outside his truck. 

Jamie muttered under his breath.  “Kayce.  Kayce, kayce, please understand I didn’t mean for this to happen.  She - she’s poison.  She’s lying to both of you.” 

“You have just as many secrets as our father does.  I’m sorry to say but we can’t just take your word anymore, brother.  Do it.” Kayce nodded, yanking his brother up onto his feet by the collar of his shirt. 

Jamie got cut off shortly once I wrapped one arm around his throat, choking him.  “Do what - aggg!” He clawed at my arm but I felt his body go limp meaning he was unconscious in my arms with my husband catching his body. 

Sitting in the passenger seat of my husband’s truck I kept my focus on the road in front of us.  Heavy thick silence was the sound that was inside our vehicle that evening.  Kayce was driving us there with the others already there waiting for us.  

Kayce pulled the truck off the road until we were near the cliff edge where he turned the engine off looking over at me with a weak look.  “Are you sure you’re up for this, Lissa?” 

“I’m already involved in this, Kayce.  I just won’t be the one dying to finish it.” I responded back to him unlocking the door, getting out of the truck and closing the door behind me.  Kayce followed going to the truck bed flinging it open dragging Jaime out the back of it. 

Jamie groaned, blinking his eyes open seeing me and Kayce standing over his body on the dirt.  “What are we doing here - no, no, no.  I shouldn’t be here.”

“Actually Jamie you should have been here a long time ago.” Jaime, Kayce and I all shifted in our heads in the direction of the voice watching Beth stroll into the light of moon.  “I’m going to give you two options.  Option One : we put your ass down in that canyon with the other people who have tried to come for the ranch.  Option Two : you turn yourself into the police and confess to everything which will result in you spending the rest of your life in prison.  I’ll give you a minute to think about it but you aren’t leaving here without making a choice.” 

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[pesky--dust]

As much as I always complain about the language version of Hannibal in my country, allow me this time to admire something that I liked about the translations.

(for context: the episodes were broadcast on a regular basis when they were also broadcast in the United States)

In the first episode, when Jack talks to Alana about Will, she says, "Promise you won't push him over the edge," and at the end, when Jack comes to the lecture hall and finds Alana there instead of Will, Alana says, "You promised that you won't push him over the edge" (given how the series ends? i love it)

In Trou Normand, when Hannibal explains to Will why he is covering up Abigail's murder of Nick Boyle, he says: "You know why. Jack would hang her instead of her father and the world would burn her at the stake". (Abigail Hobbs was a real person and was a victim of the Salem trials)

The gallery scene from Dolce? "Mine? Before you and after you" was translated something like, "Mine? The division is you".

[defectivevillain]

this broken design, ch11

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read from the beginning here.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: kidnapping, canon typical blood/violence/gore, mentions of animal dissection (just the words "animal dissection")

You fall in and out of consciousness. One moment, you’re roughly dragged along the ground past Alana’s house; the next moment, there’s a blindfold secured over your eyes and you’re situated in what you guess to be the trunk of a car. You feel every minute bump in the road and you swear the driver is intentionally hitting potholes, if only to jostle you around more. At some point, you feel your vision fading—even amidst your best efforts to remain awake. You know you need to stay conscious to escape, but your body refuses to obey your commands.

The next time you wake, you’re met with an incessant, throbbing headache. You wearily blink your dry eyes open, wincing as light sears into your vision. Left with nothing but a buzzing silence and your thoughts, you berate yourself for letting your guard down. You had forgotten the nature of the people you were investigating. You’re in danger. You take a deep breath around the gag in your mouth and try to remain calm. Thankfully, your blindfold must have been removed at some point. 

Surveying your surroundings, you find a dilapidated dining room with dusty trinkets lining the walls. There’s a fanciful chandelier hanging over the luxurious dining table, which has seven empty seats. You’re located at the back head of the table—your wrists bound to the arms of the chair you were placed in. There are mere ropes holding you to the chair, but somehow, you can hardly even move, let alone try to get out of them. You must have been drugged—with something potent enough to remove all traces of physical resistance from your system. You can’t do anything more than make your fingers twitch from where they’re resting on the edges of the chair arms. Moreover, when you do manage to move them, your hand twitches sporadically. That’s definitely not a good sign.

It’s hard to stay awake, even though you know you need to be conscious and aware of your surroundings to keep yourself safe. There’s nothing to occupy you except for the monotonous ticking of a clock in the hall behind you, your blurred vision, and your aching limbs. 

At one point, when you drag yourself out of the void of unconsciousness, you find that you have a companion. Frederick Chilton is sitting in the chair on your right. You blink at him blearily and try to get his attention, only to remember that you’re both gagged and nearly unable to move. Upon closer investigation, it looks like he’s unconscious. You don’t stay conscious long enough to learn anything about Chilton’s situation or see your captor. Weirdly enough, your captor has been strangely absent—leaving you to decay amidst molding walls in solitude. Each time you fight off unconsciousness, you notice that Chilton is more roughed up. Your captor has a grudge against him, and it doesn’t take you long to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Ironically, by trying to protect Alana, you only ended up putting yourself in more danger. If you had the strength, you’d shake your head in disbelief. 

The opportunity to speak with your captor finally arrives the next time you wake. The man, evidently finished with torturing Chilton for the day—judging by the blood soaking through the man’s shirt—tightens the ropes around Chilton’s wrists. This is your chance. “Gideon?” You feel yourself asking. It comes out muffled because of the gag. Your voice is dry and raspy; your entire mouth is dry and the words almost seem to bounce around restlessly. 

You blink at the figure. It looks like Hobbs. But, no, it can’t be Hobbs—Hobbs is dead. You blink and try to peel away the Minnesota Shrike’s cloying visage. The sickly emerald tones in his eyes fall away to reveal a sharp blue-eyed gaze. Dr. Abel Gideon is looking at you with interest; Chilton is no longer the subject of his attention. You cast a hateful gaze at Chilton’s prone form, feeling a momentary stab of satisfaction at seeing him hurt. You have to rip yourself from those thoughts to focus on Gideon, who is now standing next to you. 

“I must say, you were out for quite a while,” Gideon hums. You can’t tell if he’s speaking to himself or to you. He turns your chair ninety degrees to make you face him. “Perhaps I overdid it with the drugs. I haven’t been at the operating table in quite a while…” His focused musings are eerie. The man is treating you as if you’re an experiment—an animal on his dissection table. Eventually, Gideon sighs and removes the gag from your mouth. 

“Why did you take me?” You ask immediately. That’s the first thing you want to know. You can justify Chilton’s presence here—he worked with Gideon in the past and nearly convinced him he was the Chesapeake Ripper. You’ve never done anything of the sort, however. You’re not a mental health professional, nor have you even spoken to Gideon aside from the single conversation you had through the bars of his cell. 

Unsurprisingly, Gideon doesn’t answer your question. You’re not even sure if he can hear what you’re saying. “Say hello, Frederick.” Your assailant says instead, momentarily stepping aside to make sure you can see the man in question. Frederick Chilton cannot say hello, since several of his organs have been evidently removed and he is unconscious. You grimace. You don’t like the man, but you don’t think he deserves to be mutilated so cruelly. You swallow hard. “Might as well have some fun before I dispose of you properly.”

It takes you a moment to comprehend that statement. You look up, only to find that Gideon isn’t looking at Chilton anymore—he’s looking at you. You take a rattling breath in. Gideon walks away for a treacherous moment. Your heart is racing in your chest, so loudly that its rhythm reverberates in your ears. He’s back a moment later with a knife in hand. His fascination with Chilton is gone. The psychiatrist lies neglected in his chair, unconscious but ignored. For the first time in your life, you envy Frederick Chilton.

“Dr. Lecter is rather fond of you. Perhaps if I…” Gideon breaks off. Quick as lightning, he drags his knife along the skin near your left eye. You scream and writhe in your bonds, but he only smirks. You know that’s going to leave a nasty scar. That must be the point, you think to yourself faintly. He wants to leave a mark on you. “I forgot how enjoyable this was.” You want to kick at him, but Gideon must sense your thought process because he quickly steps out of range. 

You’re left to slowly dissipate in your chair, the uncomfortable sensation of warm blood trickling down your face. At one point, you feel droplets fall from your eye in a manner rather similar to tears. The next time you blink, your vision is crimson-tainted. Your vision doesn’t seem to be affected, other than the blood falling into your eyes. The entire left side of your face is stinging. This time, when you feel your eyes slip shut, you don’t fight it. 

You have no idea how much time passes after that. It’s clear that the drug is still in your system, because you can’t keep yourself awake for more than what you assume to be an hour or two. Chilton remains a steady, silent presence at your side. Each time you wake, you realize that he looks no better than before. You can hardly focus on him, though—not when it’s been several days (you can assume) since you’ve had anything to eat or drink. Your limbs are cooperating with your commands a bit more than before, but you know you’re still nowhere near your usual level of fitness. 

The ugly sound of a chair scraping against the ground jerks you out of your thoughts. Gideon is dragging a chair towards the table—a chair that is inhabited by a redheaded woman that looks far too familiar. It doesn’t take you long to recognize where you know her from—she’s Freddie Lounds, the same reporter who has been dragging your reputation through the mud all these years. Gideon pushes her to a place at the table at your left, opposite Frederick Chilton. Dread stews in your chest. This feels more significant than you can currently comprehend. Gideon stands at the other end of the table, his gaze contemplative as he looks from Chilton to Lounds, before finally settling on you. You immediately dislike the strange resolve in his eyes. 

“Choose.”

“What?” You say. 

“Choose,” Gideon repeats. There is nothing short of complete, utter sincerity in his voice. “Choose who lives and who dies.” You stare at him in disbelief, wondering if you misheard him. Evidently, you didn’t—Gideon is holding a gun in his right hand and seems to be waiting for your command. There’s an entertained smile on his face. He must be enjoying this spectacle—seeing you come to terms with the fact that you will be the cause of an onlooker’s death. 

You glance between Freddie Lounds and Frederick Chilton. Who should live? Who should die? You have both of their lives in your hands right now. Freddie shoots you a wide-eyed look. Frederick looks equally terrified and his eyes are begging you for help. You experimentally tug at the ropes binding your wrists to the chair. Unsurprisingly, they don’t budge. You try to think of a way out of this. It takes you a few moments to remember that you do have a weapon—a dagger concealed in your boot. However, it’s nearly impossible to reach without informing Gideon of its presence. It seems you’re well and truly cornered. You have no choice but to kill. 

You contemplate who to save. It’s a macabre thought, but a necessary one nonetheless. You’re sure that your hesitation would only encourage Gideon to kill both Lounds and Chilton. You take a deep breath. Chilton worked with Gideon on numerous occasions, and manipulated him into thinking he was someone else. Lounds wrote some unsavory things about you, but she’s ultimately innocent in all this. She’s nothing but a bystander—a civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time. You take a shuddering breath in.  

Gideon is waiting expectantly. You return his gaze and incline your head towards Chilton. In a true show of cowardice, you can’t say his name. You don’t want to utter his name—don’t want to succumb to the reality that he will die because of you. The smirk on Gideon’s face widens impossibly, showing crooked pointed teeth and a truly maleficent elation. You watch as he pulls a gun from his belt—evidently stolen from his prison transports—and cocks it. Gideon steps around the table and moves to stand a mere few feet away from Chilton—far too close for him to miss. The gun is steadily aimed at Chilton’s temple. 

Gideon’s finger squeezes the trigger. Your heart is thundering in your ears, but you know what you need to do. Your arms are trapped but, thankfully, your ankles aren’t bound to the chair. You lean forward and kick Chilton’s chair as hard as you can. 

The gun fires. 

Chilton falls to the ground. The bullet resides in the wall behind him, leaving the drywall to crumble around the entrance point. You wait for a puddle of crimson blood to grow on the floor, turning the carpet red. Nothing of the sort is present. Frederick is unscathed. 

“Well, well,” Gideon remarks, putting the gun on his belt for a minute to deliver a slow, mocking clap. The applause echoes in the hollow space around you, creating a horrible rhythm. Freddie’s eyes are wide and the expression on her face is indecipherable; it almost looks as if she’s truly seeing you for the first time. “You think you’re clever, do you?” You don’t elect to respond. 

“Fine,” Gideon remarks. “You’ve made your choice.” 

Gideon cocks his gun and pushes it against your own temple this time. He raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to utter your last words. You stare back at him defiantly, heart in your throat. Just as his finger squeezes the trigger once more, you rock your chair to the side with enough momentum to send you crashing down to the ground. You sense the cold metal of your dagger resting against your ankle, and it only takes a second of manipulation for the dagger to fall down to the floor. From there, you twist and lean back until you can grasp at it with your bound hands. You maneuver to the side and duck under the table to guard yourself from the onslaught of gunfire. With the momentary coverage, you’re able to cut through the ropes binding your wrists to the chair. The effort is rather awkward and certainly hurts, but you’re miraculously able to get your hands free. You idly wonder if Gideon is giving you this time to break free of your bonds—if he wants the thrill of the hunt. The thought makes your stomach turn.  You crawl under the table and jump out at the side. You’re quickly met with the business end of Gideon’s gun and a malicious smirk. You dive to the side and roll, swiftly getting to your feet and wielding your dagger. 

In a gunfight, the person with a dagger is far outmatched. Right now, Gideon has the upper hand, since he has a gun. You need to fight offensively—fighting defensively will get you killed here. You also need to be unpredictable—fight dirty, use common household objects as weapons. Perhaps most importantly, you need to move the fight elsewhere. Otherwise, Chilton and Lounds could be injured in the conflict. Knowing this, you decide to turn and duck down the hallway behind you, confident that Gideon will follow after you. Sure enough, you hear his footsteps follow you through the hall. You sprint down the hall, ducking around corners until you come across a small supply closet. It’s just barely big enough to stand in and you do so, before pressing your lips together and holding your breath. 

“Ready or not, here I come,” Gideon announces, his footsteps echoing in the eerily silent hall. The floorboards in front of the closet creak and you have to put a hand over your mouth to stifle your breathing. The killer pauses in his tracks just outside where you’re hiding. 

You duck down instinctually and a bullet rifles through the closet door where your head had been just seconds ago. Gideon shoots another bullet a short distance from the first and it nearly skims the top of your head as you’re bending down. Eventually, he must decide that you’re not in the closet, because he continues walking forward. 

You take the gifted opportunity and shove the closet door open, before lunging forward and stabbing Gideon in the back of the neck. He lets out a pained hiss and claps a hand over his neck, before turning around and firing at you. That shot seems far too close for you to dodge, but soon Gideon is lunging at you and the thought slips to the back of your mind. You bend low and manage to tackle him to the ground, before making a grab for the gun. Your effort fails as Gideon throws you off of him with ease. Quick as lightning, he pushes you into the ground and chokes you. His gun meets the side of your head and his grip on your neck tightens, effectively robbing you of breath. 

Your vision is beginning to blur. You know you’re near the end; you don’t have much air left. You try to kick out at him, but Gideon doesn’t budge. Your hand scrabbles for purchase on his relentless grip, trying to free your airway. In the scuffle, you somehow lost your dagger. You blindly reach behind you with your free hand, praying that it fell to the floor behind you. To your surprise, your hand closes around something sharp—your dagger. You don’t hesitate to stab upward into his left eye. Gideon screams and instinctively loosens his grip on your neck. His hold on his gun is loose; you twist to the side, ignoring the inexplicable stab of pain in your side when you do so, and rip it from his grasp. Gideon’s left hand covers his eye and his right hand reaches out towards his gun, which you’re now holding. You don’t give him the chance to get it back, instead putting the pistol to his temple and firing. 

Gideon falls backward, hitting the ground with a loud thump. You push yourself up to a sitting position before twisting to kneel, desperately hacking and coughing as you regain your breath. You’re certain you’d never been closer to death than in that awful moment, with Gideon looming over you with a devilish smirk on his face. You must’ve bitten your cheek somehow, because there’s the coppery taste of blood in your mouth. It hurts to swallow. Once you regain your breath, you stumble up and brace yourself against the wall. Gideon’s corpse burns into your vision. 

Laughter reverberates in your ears. Garret Jacob Hobbs stands further down the hall, a brilliant maniacal smirk on his face. There is nothing but malicious glee in his eyes. Your first victim regards your latest. You blink and Hobbs becomes Franklyn Froideveaux. Franklyn stares at you with hollow, unseeing pits for eyes. His skin rifles outward, exposing the mess of bloodied organs residing in his chest and stomach.

For a fraction of a moment, the pendulum swings before your eyes. Gideon’s body is still in front of you but, when you blink, it’s gone. You hiss and grit your teeth hard, trying to rip yourself out of this reverie. This is your design. This is your design. Your bullet carved a neat hole in his forehead, allowing crimson droplets to flow down his face and onto the ground. The wound on his neck must be adding to the accumulating puddle of blood. 

There’s a stifled yell from behind you and you’re tornfrom your thoughts. You turn your back on Gideon’s corpse and run back to the dining room, only to meet the eyes of Freddie Lounds. “Miss Lounds,” you remark, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The effort to speak feels slightly uncomfortable. You continue anyway. “I’m sorry, let me help you there.” You move toward her and use your dagger to cut the ropes binding her wrists. Then, you cut the gag off from where it’s knotted at the back of her head. Freddie doesn’t say anything, but she does rub her wrists with a pained grimace. You immediately feel guilty. Somehow, it feels as if it’s your fault that she’s here. 

There’s a strange expression on Freddie’s face as she regards you. She almost looks… worried. “What’s the matter?” You feel the need to ask. Freddie wordlessly points at your torso. You look down and grit your teeth, feeling a brutal pain rip the breath right from your chest. 

There’s a bullet lodged in your side—the oblique, you remember from your lectures. You immediately remember the shot from earlier—the one that came far too close to dodge. In the heat of the fight, you hadn’t noticed. Now, you wince and bring a hand down to exert pressure on the wound. Freddie’s staring at you in disbelief. For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence as the two of you remain quiet. Then, Freddie inexplicably moves towards the table and grabs a napkin. She hands it to you and you thank her, pressing it up against your side. Unsurprisingly, the fabric is quickly growing bloodstained. You take a deep breath and try to look over your shoulder, despite the pain it triggers in your side. It seems the bullet didn’t exit your body. 

You weakly grasp at the wall, before slowly sliding down until you’re seated on the ground. There’s a bead of sweat trickling down your neck. Your adrenaline was pumping before, bringing your attention away from the inexplicable discomfort at your side. Now, however, all you can focus on is the throbbing pain. 

“Freddie,” you remark. The reporter raises an eyebrow. “Can you…?” You break off, looking at the phone mounted to the wall in the other room. It’s just barely visible from your current position on the ground. Freddie seems to understand what you’re saying, because she runs over to the phone and dials 911. You raspily tell her to mention Jack Crawford and she does, from what you can hear. 

“They’re on their way,” Freddie says. It’s the first time she’s spoken since Gideon first brought her into the dining room. Your vision is blurry at the edges, but you can still make out the shell-shocked expression on Freddie’s face. She looks completely out of her element—startled and disturbed, as if the world has just flipped on its axis. Guilt finds a way into your heart again. 

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say, past the bloody taste in your mouth. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Freddie asks. She’s squinting at you in suspicion. 

“My fault,” you respond through gritted teeth. Somehow, the effort to talk is now met with a harsh twist of pain that bolts through you like lightning. You continue to apply a rather shaky pressure to the wound, grimacing when you see the napkin is now crimson. Freddie gets up and grabs a few more napkins, before squatting down next to you once more. 

“It’s not your fault,” Freddie murmurs, shaking her head and averting her eyes. She looks relatively unharmed—at least, physically speaking. She is justifiably shaken by the events that transpired. Freddie changes the napkin in your hand for a fresh one. You whisper a word of gratitude and she nods, her lips drawn tight in a flat line. 

Time drags on. Everything around you is fuzzy. Freddie hovers over you, a surprisingly worried expression on her face. You try to reach out to her, weakly reassure her that she’ll be okay, but you can’t move. Everything burns. The adrenaline you had earlier must be wearing off, because now you’re intimately aware of all your wounds. Blood trickles down your lips, likely creating a rather gruesome picture—if Freddie’s expression is anything to go by. 

It feels like it takes years for help to arrive. You know it can’t be more than fifteen minutes, yet it feels as if you wait for an eternity. When you finally hear the distant sound of a door getting kicked in, you can’t help but let out a small relieved breath. Admittedly, even breathing hurts. You feebly adjust the napkin against your side. You hear the familiar words of agents announcing their entrance to the building. In moments, there are several agents entering the room. A tactical medic approaches you within moments. There’s blood seeping down your skin and soaking through your clothes. You don’t have the strength to do anything except exert a weak pressure on your wound. Your breaths are harsh gasps and increasingly hard to come by. You blink.

It’s hard to be aware of your surroundings. You manage to fight the urge to remain in this dreary darkness and your eyes flutter open. You’re reclined on a stretcher in an ambulance, with several straps preventing you from movement. Your vision is swimming, but you can vaguely make out faces looking over you. You blink a few times in an attempt to clear your sight; when your vision finally returns to normal, you feel fear strike through your heart. Hannibal is sitting at your side, a sharp gleam in his eyes. His brows are pinched in what you assume to be manufactured concern. There’s a paramedic at your side asking you questions, but the words all sound garbled. When you look back to Hannibal, you swear you see him smirking. A trick of the light, you tell yourself. Your heart starts thundering in your chest and a machine begins to beep incessantly. You don’t want to be so vulnerable in front of the Chesapeake Ripper, but you don’t quite have a choice. Your vision falls to black within a few moments. 

You manage to catch glimpses of the starry night sky, then the white ceiling of what must be a hospital. When you realize you’re being wheeled through a hospital hallway, you can’t help but grow more nervous. You’re tightly secured to the stretcher and you feel trapped. There’s an oxygen mask secured over your mouth and nose. You grimace instinctually from the pain shooting through you, rippling up your torso and down your skin. You try to move your hand, but you can only slightly bend your fingers. Alarms are blaring. 

Several nurses hover over you. They’re trying to speak to you, you think. You can’t answer. There’s nothing but overwhelming pain. Your fingers are twitching again. A tear slides down your cheek. The light above is blinding. Your hand is restless. You can’t stop fidgeting. 

Suddenly, Hannibal’s hand is on your forearm. His grip is incredibly loose but the pressure is somehow—regrettably—reassuring. Before you can contemplate the meaning behind the gesture, you’re slipping into unconsciousness once more. This time, however, you don’t wake. Instead, you’re left to drown in your own dreams and nightmares, removed from reality. 

next chapter

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[battyaboutbooksreviews]

💖 Sapphic Books Coming Out June 2024

🩷 There's something especially sweet about a sapphic romance. Here are only a few of the amazing sapphic books hitting shelves in June 2024. Which ones are you adding to your ever-growing TBR?

💖 Which ones are you adding to your TBR?

Contemporary 💖 But How Are You, Really - Ella Dawson 💖 Hot Summer - Elle Everhart 💖 Pony Dakota - Nat Burns 💖 Wish You Weren't Here - Erin Baldwin 💖 Something to be Proud Of - Anna Zoe Quirke 💖 London on My Mind - Clara Alves, Nina Perrotta (translator) 💖 Please Stop Trying to Leave Me - Alana Saab 💖 Looking for a Sign - Susie Dumond 💖 Triple Sec - T.J. Alexander 💖 Pages from the Book of Broken Dreams - Kat Jackson 💖 Director's Cut - Carlyn Greenwald 💖 Furious - Jamie Pacton, Rebecca Podos 💖 Cicada Summer - Erica McKeen 💖 Tehrangeles - Porochista Khakpour 💖 Women - Chloe Caldwell 💖 Experienced - Kate Young 💖 Liddy-Jean Marketing Queen and the Matchmaking Scheme - Mari SanGiovanni

Paranormal/Horror 💖 The Pecan Children - Quinn Connor 💖 Private Rites - Julia Armfield 💖 The Deep Dark - Molly Knox Ostertag 💖 The Science of Ghosts - Lilah Sturges, El Garing (ill.), Alitha Martinez (contrib.) 💖 Wolfpitch - Balazs Lorinczi

Fantasy 💖 Mirrored Heavens - Rebecca Roanhorse 💖 The Fire Within Them - Matthew Ward 💖 Digging for Destiny - Jenna Jarvis 💖 Saints of Storm and Sorrow - Gabriella Buba 💖 Markless - C.G. Malburi 💖 Sleep Like Death - Kalynn Bayron 💖 The Afterlife of Mal Caldera - Nadi Reed Perez 💖 The Pale Queen - Ethan M. Aldridge 💖 The Unrelenting Earth - Kritika H. Rao 💖 Ballad for Jasmine Town - Molly Ringle 💖 Six of Sorrow - Amanda Linsmeier

Historical 💖 A Bluestocking's Guide to Decadence - Jess Everlee 💖 A Divine Fury - D.V. Bishop 💖 The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye - Briony Cameron 💖 Hall of Mirrors - John Copenhaver

Mystery/Thriller 💖 One Killer Problem - Justine Pucella Winans 💖 The Last Note of Warning - Katharine Schellman 💖 Shanghai Murder - Jessie Chandler 💖 And Then There Was One - Michele Castleman

Sci-Fi 💖 Lady Eve's Last Con - Rebecca Fraimow 💖 The Stars Too Fondly - Emily Hamilton 💖 Moonstorm - Yoon Ha Lee 💖 You're Safe Here - Leslie Stephens

[hanahaki-disease]

Waiting on some Holy Favor

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/SC cross over

Summary:

“Percy…Blew up…The St Louis arch?!

He’s not dead?!

Tim’s eyes were wide as they replayed the footage and enlarged the grainy picture showed off his best friend. What was Percy doing in Missouri? Who is that girl? What happened when he went to New York? Worry began to fill Tim’s stomach. He wondered if Percy was put up to this, threatened to do something for someone, because there was no way he was doing this of his own volition.”

Thank you to @keitria for beta reading!!!

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Tim locked the door behind him, wincing as his sore shoulder bumped the hard wood closed. Training was rough and he felt dead on his feet. But he chose this. He wanted—no, needed to become Robin. Dick didn’t want to take the mantle back, Jason was dead, and his best friend was missing. No one was here to reign in the Batman and Gotham was paying the price.

He hissed as he collapsed on the couch, an old towel separating him from the white material so that he didn’t stain it with his sweat or blood, groaning with relief when he could finally relax. His muscles burned. Legs weak, arms heavy, and head throbbing. Grapple training g was the worst but Robin needed to fly and so Tim will endure. Jason and Dick had, and he was sure Percy had too even if he wasn’t apart of the family business. If they survived, so could Tim.

With a groan he lifted his aching arms and grabbed the TV remote. He’ll turn it on to fill the silence, to make the empty halls not so empty anymore. Most of the time he didn’t really care what was playing. Sometime he flicked the channel button a certain number of times and leave it playing where it ends up, other times he’ll play friends or Sponge Bob, just something.

He flicked to the news. Alana Nazeer was Gotham’s beloved news reporter on channel eight, and Tim could see why. She was pretty, middle aged, and never shared her political opinions on city wide television. The best way to get on the masses’ good graces. She was reporting something serious, the laugh lines at the corner of her mouth pulled taught as she looked into the camera, hands clasped in front of her.

“Earlier today, down in St Louis, Missouri, a bomb detonated at the top of the St Louis arch,” She said reading the cue-cards. Tim was intrigued, he hadn’t heard about this yet. “There have been no causalities reported so far, however, eye witness accounts say that, just before the bomb went off and group of three young children rode to the top, and only two came down. No video evidence has been recovered yet but many suspect that these are the same children who caused a local greyhound buss to erupt at a gas station just outside Blüdhaven.

“St Louis Police department have recognized only of the three children involved with the Blüdhaven incident as young Annabeth Chase from Richmond, Virginia, the other two children are still unknown.” On the screen blurry surveillance camera footage showed Percy, the girl, and another kid their age jumping out the back of a bus before the screen cut off in the explosion. A few train station cameras also caught them before they disappeared in the southern city. “What their motives are is still unknown, but law enforcement is encouraging those with connections to either child to come forward and that we may apprehend them before any other tragedy occurs. This is Alana Nazeer with Gotham Today.”

Percy…Blew up…The St Louis arch?!

He’s not dead?!

Tim’s eyes were wide as they replayed the footage and enlarged the grainy picture showed off his best friend. What was Percy doing in Missouri? Who is that girl? What happened when he went to New York? Worry began to fill Tim’s stomach. He wondered if Percy was put up to this, threatened to do something for someone, because there was no way he was doing this of his own volition.

He should tell Bruce that Percy was alive. He needed to know, maybe—maybe that will help him get out if this funk he’s in. And perhaps Bruce will let him go down to Missouri to help Percy with whatever was going on with him, bring him back home to Gotham. Or even just supply him with the more discrete Batman tools and gadgets, give him another panic button just in case.

But as soon as those thoughts crossed his mind, he shoved them back where they came from. If he knew his best friend, and he does because they’ve known each other for years, Percy would not want Bruce’s help. Not after he was treated and ignored after Jason’s death. Percy would rant to him how Bruce would treat him as a burden, an unwanted mouth to feed because he wasn’t Jason. He wasn’t useful like Jason was, wasn’t as smart or as strong, and their near identical appearance was too much for the older man. Bruce couldn’t separate Percy from Jason and instead pushed him away.

And maybe that’s why Bruce didn’t notice till well after Percy went missing that he never came home. He didn’t fully recognize Percy as his son the way he had with Jason or Dick, even if Dick was his first. It took Alfred and Tim’s insistence for him to send Clark and J’onn to New York to find him, and by then it was too late. Percy had disappeared and it was days since the trip, and Tim had helped a few missing persons cases by then that anything after twenty-four hours was unlikely.

A part of Tim hated Bruce for being so ignorant and disrespectful towards Percy, for agreeing to take him in and care for him only to show favoritism towards his older brother. And he knew that a part of that ignorance was because of the grief over Jason, but it still wasn’t right. His there-but-not-there presence reminded Tim of his own parents and he doesn’t wish that upon anyone, much less his best friend.

But maybe now that Tim was Robin, or on his way to become Robin, he could help Percy somehow? But…How? Tim was stuck in Gotham and he was due to leave any day to Paris to complete his training—Dick! That’s right! Tim had almost forgotten about the oldest Wayne child. They hadn’t spoken since Tim asked if he could be Robin again for Bruce, but Dick told him to keep his number in case of emergencies. And this was an emergency if any.

“Hello?” Dick’s voice answered from the other side.

“Mr Grayson? Are you busy?” Tim asked.

“I can talk, Tim,” He said. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“You remember the gas station explosion a few days ago in Blüdhaven? The one with the bus and the missing kids?”

“Yeah, I went over there to investigate with the police department, but there wasn’t much evidence of how it happened,” He answered. “I know some of the passengers had said it was because of some kids, but we weren’t able to find them. Why’d you ask? Did you find something?”

“Ye-Yeah, um” He stuttered. He didn’t really think this conversation through, if he as honest. He thought it was just going to be easy. Ring up the young adult, tell him he saw his missing little brother on TV and that he was the reason for the domestic terrorist attacks across two different states, and then hang up and go about his night. It was a vague, unreliable plan because how exactly was he supposed to actually tell him that. He couldn’t just blurt it out right, Dick wouldn’t believe him. But this was important and he should know because it his little brother, Tim’s best friend! Who, apparently, is a wanted fugitive in two states. Wild. “I think Percy’s alive.”

Dick’s silence on the other side was concerning. “What?”

“I-I just saw the news,” He answered. “He was seen in St Louis and he-he’s a suspect in the arch explosion, but he disappeared after that.” Tim rewound the TV, letting the segment replay. “And there’s been surveillance recovered from the gas station, and Percy was spotted in the feed.

“I Just thought you should know,” Tim said. “I don’t know if B would have told you if he knew. I don’t know if he knows himself that Percy’s alive.”

“Did the news say why he was in St Louis?”

“No, just that he was spotted there and in Blüdhaven. They don’t know where he’s going from there of if he’s still there, not many witnesses saw him beside those that saw him at the top.”

“Okay. Okay.” Tim heard Dick sigh. “I’ll..I’ll look into it, try and see if I can find him or where he’s going next. Thank you , Tim. That means a lot.”

Dick hung up after that and Tim couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. First, his best friend as alive. (Already the best news in the world.) Second, he helped Nightwing with a missing person’s case indirectly. (His inner fanboy was screaming right now.) And thirdly, he was going to be Robin. Tim was going to be able to help the Batman and Nightwing and go on missions and help Gotham. The term ‘joy’ didn’t fully encapsulate what he was feeling.

He only wished Percy here to celebrate with him.

*****************************

I was originally going to post this on Sunday but I decided to be nice. I still might update on Sunday too, who knows 🤷‍♀️

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