#oh i LOVE a good voss water bottle

[acrosstobear]

MICK SCHUMACHER poses for a picture with a fan at the Ritz Carlton x Marriott Bonvoy x Mercedes AMG F1 Miami GP party 

[viking-raider]

Southern Generation - Part VI

Summary: Sy officially moves in with Lily and they go on a road trip to make amends.

Pairing: Austin Syverson/OFC (Lily)

Word Count: 11,965

Warning: PG-13 - Language, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Oral - F Receiving, Drama, Pregnancy Cravings

Inspiration: Syverson is OP

Author's Note: Thanks to the wonderful @wondersofdreaming

Author's Note 2: Make sure to follow and turn on the notifications for my Tag List blog @viking-raider-taglist to stay up to date on this and all my other stories!

“That's the last of them.” Sy smiled, setting the last box of his stuff down.

With Lily pregnant and them making their relationship official, Sy moved all of his stuff from his Austin apartment into the farmhouse with Lily.

“Well, officially.” Lily replied, resting her hands on her hips and looking up at him. “Welcome home.” She smiled, giddy and proud.

“Thanks, Darling.” He grinned back, cupping her face and kissed her.

Lily smiled, as she woke up from her nap, feeling the warm and heavy weight of Sy's body in bed with her, his head in its customary place, on her chest. She usually woke up from her naps with Sy, whether or not he was with her, when she fell asleep or not. Sighing and moaning softly, she lifted her hand to twist the short, curling ends of his hair between her fingertips.

“Hm.” Sy hummed softly, rubbing his scruffy face against her chest and hugging his arms tighter around her middle, thumb stroking her tummy.

“I'm surprised at you.” Lily whispered, still playing with his hair.

“Why?” Sy moaned back, turning his head to look up at her.

“When I first met you, I half wondered what your hair would look like if you let it grow out.” She explained, running her fingers through it.

“Oh?” He chuckled, smirking at her.

“Yeah.” She blushed at him. “But, I just didn't expect the Bear, Austin Syverson, would have curls.” She grinned at him, twisting the ends of his hair between her fingers, she loved his developing curls.

“My hair hasn't been this long in ten years.” Sy laughed, blushing and biting his lip. “I've been thinking about cutting it again.”

“I will end you, Wyatt.” Lily threatened, touching the tip of her finger to his nose.

“Oh, busting out the middle name and everything.” He smirked, taking a playful snap at the tip of her finger. “Lily?” He whispered, biting the inside of his lip as he stared into her eyes.

“What?” She replied, tilting her head at him.

“Have you thought about going back?” Sy murmured, brow creasing. “Back to Middleburg, to see your grandparents. Jak isn't a threat anymore. I'm sure they would love to see you and I'd bet my life, you want to see them again. Especially now, with the baby on the way.”

Lily pressed her lips together, resting her hands on Sy's shoulders. “It would be nice to see them again.” She answered, after a long pause.

“But?” He pressed, sensing it coming next.

“What if they don't want to see me?” She asked, searching his eyes for comfort, and found it. “What if they don't want me in their life anymore?”

Sy took a deep breath, sitting up as he did, and brought Lily up with him. “Then, that's their loss.” He told her, folding her up in his arms and pressing his lips to her forehead. “If they don't want you in their life, then they are missing out on knowing one of the most amazing gals, who can light up a room, simply by walking into it.”

“You're just buttering me up, Austin.” Lily mumbled into his neck.

“Woman, have I ever lied to you?” Sy grinned into her hair.

“No.” She chuckled, blushing shyly.

“I don't intend to now, Angel.” He whispered, kissing her temple. “But, you won't know their reaction, unless you go and see them.” He added, softer.

“I know.” She whispered back, leaning against his chest. “You're right. I owe it to them and myself.”

“Whatever choice you make, I'll support you, every step of the way.” Sy told her, gently tipping her head back and tenderly kissed her.

“I think I want to go see them.” Lily said, later that night, while she and Sy sat at the dinner table.

Sy looked up from his plate of spaghetti and garlic bread, slowly lowering his fork. “All right.” He nodded, straightening his back and giving her his full attention. “When do you wanna go?”

“The sooner, the better, I think.” She mumbled, shifting in her seat, her own dinner mostly untouched.

Sy nodded his head again, quietly regarding Lily from across the table. He could see the worried and fearful anxiety on her face, still mulling over every worst case scenario about seeing her grandparents again, he could almost see every one of them tick by her eyes. Afraid that her grandparents would disown her, the moment they laid eyes on her. Blaming her for what transpired with Jak. Afraid of what their reaction would be, when she showed up at their door, after five years of silence, pregnant with the baby of man they had never heard of or met before, especially since they were incredibly religious.

He reached across the table, just in time to catch the tear that escaped and started to slip down her cheek, then rested his hand over hers. “No matter what happens, Lily. You still have me.” He told her, lovingly.

“You still have us.”

Lily grasped Sy's hand and tried to smile at him and not cry at the same time, which was hard with the way her hormones were starting to really get out of control. “I know.” She choked back.

“Let me finish painting the rest of the house and go to your twelve week baby appointment on Friday, then we'll pack a bag and ourselves into the car and drive out there.” He told her, making a game plan, so her frazzled and tired mind could relax.

“It's only a twenty-ish hour drive.”

“I think, that's a good idea.” Lily nodded, chewing on her lip, taking deep breaths.

Sy smiled and squeezed her hand. “Good.” He chuckled and let her hand go, before picking his fork back up and dug into his spaghetti.

Sy double checked his large, Army issued duffel bag, making sure he and Lily had enough clothing, he had her zofran, nausea medicine, and prenatal vitamin, along with everything else he, Lily and Aika would need for the almost nineteen hour drive from Celina to Middleburg, Virginia, having already put her pregnancy pillow in the car, before tugging the bag closed, slung it over his shoulder and went downstairs.

“Billie promised to keep an eye on the place and pick up the mail for us.” Lily said, meeting him in the entryway hall.

“Great.” He smiled. “Well, I got all our stuff packed.” He said, jostling the duffel bag.

“I already packed some snacks in the truck too.”

“Then, we're all set!”

“No, I have to pee, one more time.” Lily giggled, and rushed into the half bath.

Sy laughed, shaking his head and took the duffel bag out to the truck, dropping it in the back seat with Aika. “All set?” He asked as Lily came out of the house.

“I am now!” She nodded, crossing the yard to the truck and got into the passenger seat.

“Did you lock up?” He asked, getting in with her.

“Yep.”

“You good, Aika?” Sy asked, looking to the German Shepherd, who let out a loud bark. “All right, let's get this road trip underway!” He pulled up Google Maps on his phone and entered the address to Lily's grandparents' place, then set the device on its dock and started the truck.

Sy and Lily laughed, as they sang along to a song that came on Sy's playlist that they both liked, Enemies by Shinedown. But, Sy turned the song down, when Lily suddenly stopped singing and quickly identified the look she got just before she threw up. Quickly popping open the center console, Sy reached inside of it and pulled out a circular, blue and white object and opened it, holding it out to her. Lily took it from him, without question and threw up in it, once or twice.

“Where did you get this?” She asked, looking at it, realizing it was a hospital-grade nausea bag. “Did you rob a hospital?” She chuckled, looking over at him.

“No.” He laughed back at her. “I bought them off Amazon. I wasn't sure if you got car sick on long rides or not. But, I was sure the baby would make you nauseous, at least, once on the drive. So, I wanted to be prepared and make you as comfortable as possible in the process.”

Lily tied the used bag closed, then opened the center console and found another twenty-plus of the blue emesis bags inside. She smiled up at him, shaking her head in disbelief of his utter and complete thoughtful and preparedness.

“You never cease to amaze me, Austin.” She said, sitting back up. “You see how amazing your Daddy is.” Lily grinned, looking at her belly, and making Sy blush.

“Well, I gotta take care of ya, don't I?” He smirked, resting his hand on her thigh.

“Yeah, I suppose.” She sighed, smirking back at him.

“There's some Listerine strips in the center console, by the way.” Sy added, after a few quiet moments.

“I'm sorry, am I offending you?” Lily giggled, opening the console again and fished around for them, before finding the small blue case.

“No, no.” He grinned, chuckling. “Just figured you'd want to get the taste out of your mouth.” He explained, finally getting them on the interstate highway.

“Did you pack my nausea meds?” Lily asked, feeling another wave wash over her.

“Yeah. It's in our bag.” Sy nodded, brow creasing, as he tried to figure out what stupid shenanigans the car in front of them was up too.

Lily twisted in her seat and pulled the worn green bag between the front seats, tugging it open and riffled through it, until she found the little prescription bottle of tiny, white oval tablets, then turned back around. She removed one of the pills and cracked open one of the two bottles of Voss water in the cup holders and downed the pill.

“Why don't you rest?” Sy suggested, reaching behind her seat for her pregnancy pillow. “It's just going to be annoying highway stuff for a while.” He said, giving her the pillow.

“I don't want you to get lonely.” Lily protested, maneuvering and situating the U-shaped pillow into a comfortable position.

Sy smiled over at her. “I'll be fine, Angel.” He assured her. “If I get lonely, I'll talk to Aika and we'll play the quiet game.” He chuckled, looking at the dog from the rear view mirror. “I'll wake you up around one, and we'll find some little place to have lunch.”

“If you're sure.” Lily yawned, she was usually already in the middle of a nap by now.

“Positive, Sweetness.” He nodded, turning the heat on a bit to make sure she was kept warm.

Lily contorted her body in her seat, drawing up her legs and propping her head and the curve of her pillow against the window, wrapping her arms around it and hugging it against her body, before dozing off to sleep. Sy reached out and rested his hand on her leg, gently massaging it as he kept his eyes on the road, just listening to the hum of the tires on the worn asphalt of Interstate Forty fill the silent cabin of the truck; Aika curled up on the backseat. The quiet boredom of the road allowed the devil to whisper into Sy's ear.

He wasn't sure what to do, if Lily's grandparents, the people that raised her, rejected her, and not only her, but their great grand-baby, his child. He knew he had to be strong for Lily, it would crush her, if they wanted nothing to do with her and the baby, but Sy wasn't so sure he would be able to keep himself under control. He had a feeling he would end up giving the couple a very big piece of his mind, before bringing Lily back home to Celina.

“It'll be fine.” He said aloud, glancing over at Lily. “It'll be all right.” He assured her sleeping form, leaning over just enough to lay his hand on her belly.

Sy found a turn off into Memphis just before one in the afternoon, parking at a small riverfront park in downtown Memphis, giving Lily a quiet place to wake up and all three of them a place to stretch their legs, and Aika a place to pee.

“Hey.” Sy called, softly, shutting off the car and leaning across the console. “Lily. Wake up, baby.” He cooed at her, brushing his knuckles against her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Hey, sweet pea.” He grinned, watching her eyes slowly flutter open, blinking at the bright sunlight glittering off the murky river water.

“Where are we?” She asked in a sleepy voice, rubbing her cheek against the microfiber cover of her pillow.

“The home of the King, Memphis Tennessee.” Sy chuckled, teasingly, and kissed her again. “So, love me tender.”

“I'm all shook up.” Lily chuckled, unfolding herself and sitting up in her seat.

“Well, it's now or never, baby doll.” Sy roared, his head going back.

“Oh, don't be cruel.”

“But, I can't help fallin' in love.” He chimed back.

“What now, my love?” Lily asked, smirking at him.

“I knew there was a reason I loved you.” Sy commented, finding more and more of them every day. “But, I thought we'd get some fresh air and stretch our legs, I'm sure Aika has to pee. Then, we'll find some lunch.”

“I like that idea.” Lily nodded, pushing her pillow into the back seat, then climbed out of the truck, taking the used nausea bag with her to throw away, while Sy put Aika on her leash.

Sy took Lily by the hand and strolled down the little sidewalk along the riverside, watching the various types of boats go by them on the water. The weather was nice and warm with pleasant enough humidity, a few clouds floating in the baby blue sky.

“Are you craving anything specific?” Sy asked as they patiently waited for Aika to do her business in the grass beside them.

“Hmm.” Lily hummed, pressing her lips together and considering if there was something specific she wanted for lunch; she hadn't had any definitive cravings yet, other than the three days she really needed to eat Mac and Cheese.

But, something specific did strike Lily.

“A pretzel.” She purred, already licking her lips at the thought of the salty baked good.

Sy chuckled at her, amused at the expression on her face, eyes closed and dreamy. “All right. I'll get you a pretzel then.”

It was like a ding went off in Lily's soul. “I want a lot of Pretzels.” She said, eyes popping open and looked up Sy, almost manic and desperate.

“Okay.” He replied, brows raised and blinking at her. “I'll get you a pretzel for lunch, then some to munch on.”

“Yeah.” Lily nodded, staring down at their feet, eyes wide. “Pretzels are good.”

“That they are.” Sy agreed, snickering, unable to keep back his amusement.

Lily's eyes snapped up at him, watching him laugh at her, his eyes practically teasing and making fun of her. “Shut up.” She snapped, but started to laugh back at him. “I can't help it.”

“I know you can't.” He nodded, trying to stop, but it only made him laugh harder. “That's what makes it even better.”

“I hate you.” Lily giggled, playful punching him in the arm. “Now, I want my pretzel, Captain.”

“Yes, Major!” Sy replied, saluting her, then quickly cleaned up after Aika and took them back to the truck. “I just need to find a place to get you one.” He sighed, taking his phone off its dock and googled where to get a pretzel in Memphis, Tennessee.

“Okay, there's an Auntie Anne's not that far from us that does pretzels.” He said, saving the directions and setting them in that direction.

Leaving Aika in the car, Lily and Sy went into the shopping center the Auntie Anne's was in, navigating the crowd and line to the counter. Lily chewed on her lip for a moment, torn between getting a regular pretzel or the pretzel bites, before finally deciding on the bites with the nacho cheese dip. With her food, they navigated their way around again and Sy got himself something from the Wendy's the center had as well, before going back out to the truck to eat there; Lily stealing a couple of Sy's french fries and sharing a couple of her pretzel bites.

Once their lunch was finished and they tossed their empty containers away, Sy made a quick run into the Mega Wal-Mart across the street from the shopping center to buy a big bag of mini pretzels and a case of Voss water for Lily, knowing she was going to get very thirsting from devouring them.

“Thank you.” Lily said, when Sy gave her the bag as he got in the car, her eyes glued on the bag.

“Just don't turn into one.” He teased her, chuckling. “All right, let's get back on the road.”

“I don't want you driving all night, Austin.” Lily mumbled around a mouthful of pretzel.

“I know and I won't.” He replied, reaching a hand into the bag. “I'll go until sun down, then we'll find a place to sleep for the night.” He said, then crammed the four or five pretzels into his mouth.

“Good.” Lily smiled, passing back a pretzel to Aika, who quickly devoured it and came back for more.

Reaching Blacksburg, Virginia just after dark, Sy found a drive-thru to order them dinner and a motel for the night, parking out front of the motel's office. Sighing, he rested back in the driver's seat, scrubbing his palms over his tired face and lulled his head to the side to look over at Lily, who had fallen asleep again, twisted around her pillow and her half eaten bag of pretzels clutched to her chest. They were three hours away from her grandparents' orchard, three hours from finding out whether or not they would be in Lily and the baby's life.

“Watch her, girl.” Sy said to Aika, before slipping out of the truck, locking the doors for extra measure, and going inside the office to get a room.

Once he had the room, Sy got back into the truck and parked as close to the room as he could, before going around and opening Lily's door, careful not to let her slip out. Then, gently took the pretzel bag from her and set it aside, unbuckled her seat belt and tried to figure out for a moment how to untangle the mess of limbs and pregnancy pillow, but quickly gave up with an amused chuckle. He just picked up both her and the pillow to carry her into their room and laid her down on the bed, tugging the turned down blankets over her, then went out to get their bag, dinner and Aika.

“Hey, Angel.” Sy smiled, closing the room door with his foot as Lily sat up, rubbing at her face and pushing her hair out of her face. “I got us some food.” He said, holding up the bag.

“You hungry?”

Lily nodded, still sleepy. “Where are we now?” She asked, sitting cross legged on the bed, beside Sy as they ate their food.

“Blacksburg.” He replied, shoving fries in his mouth. “About three hours away from your grandparents' place.”

Lily bit her lip and nodded her head, staring at the half eaten, plain chicken sandwich in her hand, suddenly losing her appetite and set it down. “I'm gonna take a shower, I'm sore.” She mumbled, getting off the bed and headed into the tiny bathroom.

Turning on the light and closing the door, Lily let out a heavy breath and tugged her tank top off over her head, followed by her elephant patterned leggings and underwear, before turning towards the shower, the walls were dingy and discolored, but clean. Spinning the hot and cold taps, then stepping under the shoddy shower-head, she leaned her forehead against the cracked acrylic wall, letting the pleasantly warm water cascade down her back, like a waterfall, with a soft moan. She was starting to have second thoughts about going to see her grandparents. She wondered how upset or disappointed Sy would be, if she told him she wanted to go back home to Celina in the morning, instead of going the three hours to Middleburg to see them.

She wondered how disappointed in herself she would be later on, if she chickened out this close to their destination.

The bathroom door opened and closed, followed by the rustle of clothing, before Sy stepped into the shower behind Lily, resting one hand on her hip and brought the other one around to cup the gentle slope of Lily's belly, pressing his lips to the base of her neck. Gulping down a thicket of emotions in her throat, Lily turned in Sy's arms and pressed herself against his chest, nuzzling her face into his neck. He smiled against her wet hair, gently kneading her hips and lower back, knowing after so many hours in the car and the way she contorted her body to sleep, she must have been in pain.

“Let me take care of you.” He whispered, kissing her forehead.

Sy picked up the little bottle of travel sized, hotel shampoo, broke the seal on it and poured it into his broad palm, then gently massaged it into her hair, stealthily wiping away a line of soap that dripped down her forehead and almost in her eye. Lily closed her eyes, softly moaning at the gentle and pleasurable pressure of Sy's strong and blunt fingers working the scentless shampoo into her scalp, his thumbs moving out to methodically rub her temples, easing the edge off of the tension migraine she had all day. Sy tipped her head back into the spray of the shower, combing his fingers through her wet and soapy strands to rinse out the shampoo. With her hair washed, he found a small wash cloth and bar of soap, and started to wash her body, beginning with her shoulders and applying a little bit of pressure as he did to massage the cramped muscles there.

“God, that feels so good.” Lily sighed, melting under his tender affection, a smile twitching on her face as he rubbed the cloth over the ticklish spots of her sides.

Sy smiled, kissing the bridge of her nose. “Anything for you, Angel.” He cooed back, paying special attention to the beautifully growing bulge of her belly.

“Thank you.” She whispered, relaxed and sleepy, after they got out of the shower, letting Sy dry her off and secure the towel around her body.

“You're welcome, Sweetheart.” He replied, kissing her cheek.

Lily went back into the room and opened their duffel bag, just pulling out the first article of clothing that her hand came in contact with, which was Sy's worn, Jack Daniels, Tennessee Whiskey t-shirt and let the towel slip off her and pulled on his shirt. Sy stood in the bathroom doorway, still naked and dripping from the shower and smiled at her, loving how the black garment hung on her like a dress, her shoulder length hair dripping and making it wet as she brushed it.

He had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.

Moving over to the full sized bed, Sy situated her pregnancy pillow, then turned towards Lily. “Lay down, Angel.” He cooed at her.

Frowning at him for a moment, but seeing the look in his blue eyes, Lily chuckled and laid down, situating herself with her head and neck propped up on the belly of the pillow and her body comfortably cradled in the middle of it. Sy picked up her discarded towel and used it to dry off some, before turning off the room lights, then crawled into bed with her. Moving between Lily's legs and gently bending up her knees and pushing them apart, Lily's startled gasp filled the dark room as Sy's warm breath wafted over her exposed folds, just before his wide tongue took one long and leisurely lick.

“Jesus H. Christ!” She cried out, gripping the arms of her pillow.

“Just me, Angel.” Sy chuckled, hooking his arms around her legs, so they rested on his shoulders, and pressed his palms down on top of her thighs, to keep her still, before dipping his head back down and pressing an open kiss to her clit, flicking the tip of his tongue against it, melting Lily into a sweet and needy whimper.

Sy licked and suckled at her delicate pussy, slipping his tongue between her folds to tease her entrance and get a deeper taste of her, lewd noises filled the room as neither of them hid the pleasure they were in and having. Lily rocked against his mouth, her hands pressed to the back of Sy's head to hold him in place, eyes rolled and fluttered, her anxiety of not wanting to go to her grandparents' in the morning completely forgotten in the heady peak of her orgasm.

“I love your mouth.” Lily sighed, out of breath, exhausted and pleasantly numb.

Sy roared with laughter, laying down beside her. “Good to know.” He grinned, pulling the blankets over them and draping his arm over her. “Good night, Angel.” He whispered, kissing her cheek.

“Night, Bear.” She mumbled back, starting to drift off.

Sy stayed awake for a little while, his hand slipping up inside the shirt she was wearing to gently caress her belly and stared at the back of her head. “God,” He whispered, careful not to wake or disturb her. “I don't ask much of you. But, for whatever my word is worth, please don't let these people hurt my girl. She needs and wants them in her life, so does our little one.” He said, lifting his hand to gently stroke her damp hair.

“Let this meeting tomorrow go well, for all of us.” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging Lily back against him.

Lily took a deep breath and held it, as Sy turned the truck off the main road and onto the dirt road leading onto the Warren Orchard farm, seeing the tall apple tree shaped sign with Warren Apples carved elegantly in its trunk. It wasn't long before they came to the closed security gate, shutting them off from the rest of the farm. Sy rolled the truck to a stop and looked over to Lily, lifting a brow at her, waiting for her to tell him what they should do next, when a voice came to life next to him.

“Welcome to Warren Apple Orchards, what can I do for you?” A deep Southern drawl asked from a mounted intercom box outside the driver's side window.

Sy rolled down his window and leaned closer to the box, spotting the security camera mounted above the one side of the gate. “Yeah, we're here looking for the owners of the place.” He replied, glancing over at Lily again.

“Mr. and Mrs. Warren aren't taking visitors just now.”

Lily huffed through her nose and leaned over the center console and Sy. “Tell them, Liliana wants to see them, Judd.” She called out, biting and pressing her lips together.

There was a long pause with a bubble of tension, before an electric buzz filled the humid air around them and the metal gate rolled out of their way. Lily sat back in her seat and Sy gave her a concerned look, before driving though.

“You know him?”

“He's worked here as long as I can remember.” Lily replied, staring out her window to the immaculate lawn and row of trees beyond that. “Just keep following the road, you'll find the house at the end of it.” She added, picking at the hem of the shorts she was wearing.

True enough, a few minutes later, a massive colonial, plantation house appeared behind ancient weeping willows. Made mostly of white stone with two stories of wrap around porches and ornate black railings, tall marble columns, from the foundation to the roof; what looked like five chimneys, three turrets and an apple tree weathervane. The driveway looped around the front of the house, leading up the stairs onto the porch was double french, front doors.

Sy was in complete awe of it as he pulled around to the front of the driveway. “This place is amazing.”

“Yeah.” Lily gulped, biting her lip and stared up at the house. “Oh dear god.” She whimpered, shrinking her seat, trying to hide.

“What?” Sy frowned, then noticed a whited haired man step out of the house, wearing a pair of light brown khaki pants and a black pull over sweater with the Warren Orchard's logo on it, an apple with an arrow threw it, the front of the arrow's shaft bent in the shape of a W.

“I'm guess, that's--”

“My grandfather.” Lily nodded, peeking over the edge of the door to look up at him. “Yep.” She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and pressed her forehead to the window.

“Well, you can't hide forever, Angel.” Sy told her, tilting his head at her. “He knows we're here and this is more than likely us, sitting here.”

“I know.” Lily huffed, chewing her lip. “I know.”

“You can do this, babe.” He encouraged her. “I'm right here, Angel.”

Lily looked over at him, looking at him like a lost puppy, before taking a deep breath and fortifying herself. “You're right.” She nodded, leaning over and kissed him.

Taking another deep breath, Lily opened her door and stepped out of the truck, gulping as she looked up the steps to her grandfather. Her heart felt like a war drum in her chest, she was excited to see him again, he didn't seem any different from the last time he had seen him, at least, not from the distance they were at.

But, she was also afraid of what was about to happen next.

“Paw-Paw.” She called out to him, softly, her voice shaky.

“Liliana.” He replied, lifting a snowy brow at her, his honey-brown eyes scrutinizing her.

“I've missed you.” Lily blurted out, sniffling, tears burning her eyes. “I'm sorry I disappeared. I'm sorry I just ran away and I didn't tell either of you where I was going or why. That I stayed away for so long without a word.”

“But, I thought about you all the time.”

He stared hard at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You scared the daylights out of your grandmother and I, Liliana. We tried looking for you everywhere, but you just vanished into thin air, like you never existed.” He told her, his anger slowly showing on his face.

“We thought you were dead.”

Lily bowed her head, ashamed for what she had put her grandparents through. “I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention, Paw-Paw.” She choked, looking back up at him, breathing hard.

“Then, what was your intention, Liliana?” He barked at her, his eyes glowing with rage. “Who are you?” He hissed, as Sy came around the front of the truck to wrap an arm around Lily's waist, to comfort her.

Sy looked up at him for a moment, his eyes hard at the man. “Austin Syverson.” He replied, hugging Lily against his side and rubbing her back.

“Your relation to my granddaughter is what?”

“I'm her boyfriend.” He replied, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Look, she's come here, because she misses you both, very much, and has regretted the way she left. But, she had to leave, she had a very valid reason in doing so. In reality, she's an adult, more than capable of making her own choices and doesn't have to answer to anyone as to why she's made them.” He told Lily's grandfather.

“That includes you.”

“But, she's gained the strength to come here to try and make amends with you both, for more than one reason. You can either accept that or you can not. What happens now, is up to you.”

“Davy, who is it?”

A voice called from the double doors behind Lily's grandfather, before it opened to a thin, elderly woman with a short, curly pixie cut, who struggled to wheel herself out of the house and onto the porch. Her dim and pale blue eyes almost instantly found Lily at the bottom of the porch stairs, her hands flew to the front of her flower pattern dress, mouth dropping open.

“Liliana!” She exclaimed, reaching out a hand to her husband.

“Mee-maw.” Lily sniffled back, smiling at her grandmother through her tears.

“Thank the Lord, you're all right, my sweet child.” She cried, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“I am.” Lily nodded, wiping at her eyes. “And, I wanna be part of your lives again. I want to make amends for what I did by running away and disappearing. I'm sorry, I hurt you and Paw-Paw.”

Lily's grandmother looked up at her husband, who was still glaring at Lily and Sy, pressed her lips together, then looked back at them. “Come inside.” She said, letting his hand go and turned her wheelchair around and headed back towards the door.

“Davy.” She called over her shoulder.

Sighing, he turned and pulled the door open for her, eyeing Lily and Sy as they mounted the porch stairs, then followed his wife inside the house, before doing the same. She rolled down the hallway and turned into the private study, motioning to the long leather couch and parked herself in front of it.

“Hello.” She said, looking at Sy as he sat down beside Lily on the couch.

“Ma'am.” He replied, politely nodding his head to her.

“Who might you be?”

“Austin Syverson, Ma'am.” Sy answered with a sweet smile. “I'm your granddaughter's boyfriend.”

“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Syverson.” She replied, regarding him. “I'm Violet Warren, and this is my husband, Davis.” She said, motioning to him as he took a seat in a chair to Lily and Sy's left.

“Sir.” Sy said, nodding his head stiffly to him.

“You're looking well, Liliana.” Violet commented, turning her attention to her granddaughter.

“Thank you.” Lily whispered, licking her lips. “I just go by Lily now.”

Violet nodded her head. “Very well.” She acknowledged. “Where've you been, Lily?”

Lily drew a deep breath through her nose and slowly let it back out. “It's a long story.” She whimpered, gripping Sy's hand for support, chewing the inside of her cheek to bits.

Davis and Violet glanced at each other, before she leaned forward and took a small hand bell off the coffee table between them and rang it. A moment later, a young lady appeared in the doorway of the room and Violet asked her to serve them some tea. The tension was tight and thick in the room while the tea was being made for them, no one saying a word to each other. The servant returned, carrying in a highly polished tea tray and set it down on the coffee table, setting out teacups for the four of them and filled the cups, before leaving the room again.

“What is your story, Lily?”

Carefully drizzling a bit of honey into her tea with a honey dipper and taking a fortifying sip of it, Lily started her story. “You know that I had been seeing Jak.” She said, looking between her grandparents.

“We did.” Violet nodded, taking a sip of her own tea.

“Well, what you didn't know was Jak had been abusive to me.” She continued, staring into the rich and steamy liquid in the expensive china teacup. “He had been the entire time we were together. But, I was too naive and silly to break it off with him for the longest time. But, after a particularly bad incident, I decided I couldn't take it any longer. So, I packed a bag and went to live with Maggie. I didn't tell you-” She paused, brow creased, she had often thought about why she hadn't told them, but had never really pinned down a specific reason to why she hadn't.

But, she shook that thought off.

“I honestly don't know why I hadn't. All I knew was I was terrified of Jak finding me again and dragging me back into the life and situation I had been living in for so long with him. While I was with Maggie, I changed my name from Liliana Jade Warren to Lily Ana Moore, to make it harder for him to find me, which made it hard for the both of you to find me, and finished university.” She continued on. “After I did that, I moved to a very small town in Texas and started my own company for my Graphic Design and Photography.”

“It's how I've been supporting myself.”

“I was so consumed by my paranoia and fear of Jak finding me, that I never left the house I bought in Texas, five years ago, this is the farthest I've been from it, since I've moved there.” She confessed, looking to Sy, who smiled at her, supportive and proud.

“What's changed?” Her grandfather asked, his own teacup still where the servant set it, ignored and cold. “Why are you here now?”

Lily cleared her throat and set her tea aside. “I left and became reclusive, agoraphobic, because I felt unsafe and afraid. That Jak would end up finding me and hurting me. He did end up finding me, but Austin...” She looked to Sy, her eyes filled with appreciative love and pride. “Austin makes me feel safe again. He's protected me, in more than one way, and he's shown me what real love is. I owe him so much.”

Sy grinned brightly at her, gripping her hand, a bit choked up at her words.

“He's helped me get back to this place, a place I've held onto, wanting to be a productive member of society, to be back in your life and be your granddaughter again. I miss you and I love you both. That never changed and it will never change.”

“That never changed for us either, Lily.” Violet replied, resting her teacup back on its saucer. “You will always be our precious granddaughter and we have always loved you; from the moment you were born to this moment right now.”

“I hope you could find it in your heart, to have a little more love.” Lily whispered, biting the inside of her lip, gulping.

“For what?” Violet frowned, brows drawing together and head tilting at her.

Lily looked to Sy, who nodded his head at her. “Sy and I are expecting.” She mumbled, not meeting either of her grandparents' eyes.

“You're with child?” Violet asked, shocked disbelief in her voice.

“I am.” Lily nodded, whimpering.

“I hope you're not here, thinking this little reunion will get you money.” Her grandfather snapped, coldly.

Lily's eyes snapped over to him, a cold knot of shock, hurt and anger in her stomach, she could feel the tension stiffen Sy's body. “We don't need any of the family money.” She hissed, eyes hardening. “My business alone is quite well off, thank you; and I'm more than offended at the accusation.”

“That's putting it politely.” Sy chimed in, staring daggers into the old man.

“Davis.” Violet barked, offended at her husband's insult as well, she had no feeling that Lily and Sy were there looking for money or assistance with their lives or the baby.

“Excuse me, for the last time I recalled a couple sitting on that very same couch to tell us they were expecting a child, it was our sweet Daisy and that good for nothing, Palmer, and we all saw how that ended.” Davis replied, his voice cold and sharp.

“Austin isn't my father.” Lily barked, her voice mirroring her grandfather's.

Lily and her grandfather glared darkly at each other, before Violet grew annoyed with their childish behavior and clapped her bony hands together, catching the room's attention.

“That is quite enough.” She scolded them.

Sy hid his smirk around the rim of his teacup, already liking Lily's grandmother.

“How far along are you?” Violet asked, looking at Lily.

“Almost thirteen weeks.” She replied, unconsciously touching her belly.

“Do you know what you're having?”

“Not yet.” Lily grinned at Sy, giddy at the thought of finding out the gender of the baby, she didn't care if it was a boy or a girl, she was just excited in general. “We won't know for another five weeks.” She added, glancing over at her grandmother.

“Well,” Violet grinned, her eyes lighting up. “I can't wait to meet my great-grandbaby.” She said, sounding overjoyed at the prospect. “Davy?” She looked to her husband, her eyes still filled with excitement, but outlined with warning.

Davis looked at her for a moment, then over at Lily, before looking down at the watch on his right wrist, then stood. “I have to meet Mac in the south orchard.” He said, tonelessly, and left the room.

Lily let out an uneven breath and painful tears punched her in the chest, turning her face into Sy's collarbone as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side, pressing his lips to her hair. Violet's mouth was pressed into a thin, angry, lipstick red line as she continued to stare out the study doorway after Davis, the rapturous event of finding out about their great-grandbaby being overshadowed by his stubborn pigheadedness.

“I think we should go.” Sy said to Lily, gently wiping away her tears.

“Please, do stay.” Violet chimed in, turning her attention back to them. “There's more than enough room right here.” She said, looking back and forth between Lily and Sy. “Please, it's been so long, Lily. You've been gone and so far away. Town is twenty minutes away and with you here now, two minutes is too far away.”

Lily looked up at Sy.

“It's up to you, Angel.” He whispered, brushing his thumb against her flushed cheek.

She looked over at her grandmother. “Of course, I would love that.” She whispered, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

Violet smiled at her, relieved to have her granddaughter under the same roof again. “I'll have Clara set two extra places at the table.” She grinned, overjoyed. “I'll even have her make your favorites for lunch and dinner.”

Lily smiled at her, touched at her grandmother's sentiment. “Thank you.”

“You remember where your room is?” She replied, lifting a brow at her.

“I do.” Lily nodded her head.

“Then, I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure you must be tired with the baby and the long journey from Texas.”

“I am.” She agreed, sighing softly.

“Off you both go then, the bell will ring, when lunch is ready.”

“Thank you, Mee-Maw.” Lily said, nodding her head and stood up, Sy standing with her.

“Ma'am.” Sy nodded his head to Violet, then followed Lily out of the room and down the hall to a flight of stairs. “Well, that didn't go as badly as the two of us thought it would.” He commented, mounting the stairs behind her.

“No, it did not.” Lily replied over her shoulder, going up the three sets of stairs. “I just hope my grandfather comes around.” She added, coming to the second floor and going down to a door at the very end of the hall. “This is...was—my room.” She said, turning the vintage, metal and ceramic door knob that had a hand-painted gold floral design on it, and pushed the door open.

The bedroom was spacious and bright with the mid-morning sun shining in through four windows, between one set of windows sat a squat, five compartment, vintage chest of drawers, across from that was a full sized, poster bed, with the doorway to a bathroom to the left and a walk-in closet to the right. There was a bookcase and table against the wall by the door, mostly filled with church and home school related things.

“It's a nice room.” Sy commented, picking up one of the books on the table, a bible.

“Thanks.” Lily smiled, shyly, seeing that her grandparents had left her room the exact way she'd left it, when she moved out.

“Do you wanna rest for a little while?” He suggested, stepping up behind her and resting his hands on her hips, gently pressing his thumbs into the small of her back and massaging them.

“Yeah.” She moaned, her head dropping back against his chest, turning to kiss the underside of his bearded jaw.

“How about a nice warm bath first, maybe a cup of tea?”

Lily chuckled into his neck, grinning. “So dotting, Captain.” She teased him.

“I love you.” He cooed, kissing her forehead, then moved away from her and went into the bathroom, plugging the drain on the ancient claw-foot tub and turned the X-shaped tap handles.

Lily padded into the bathroom, sitting down on the closed toilet seat and pushed down the stress of her grandfather's behavior towards her, to watch Sy fill the bath for her, a soft smile on her face. She stood up for a moment and reached underneath the sink and removed a small bottle and handed it to him. Sy smiled at her and took it from her, uncapping it and getting the strong snap of eucalyptus and sprinkled the Epsom salt into the delicately warm water, before turning off the tap. He grabbed a towel and folded it, then situated it at one end of the tub, to pillow her head, when she started to soak.

“Now, where is the kitchen?” He asked, looking at her.

“Down the stairs, first door to your right.” Lily replied, getting out of her clothing.

“Cool, I'll be right back.” Sy told her, kissing her temple and stepped out of the room to go downstairs to get her tea.

Lily finished undressing and carefully stepped into the pleasantly warm water, leaning back with a soft and satisfied moan, focusing on the warm water enveloping her body easing away her aches and pains, melting away the anxieties that had accumulated during the drive over from Texas and the visit. While Sy found the kitchen and pushed open the swinging door, finding the cook, Clara, inside, who looked up as she heard him come in and wiped her hands on her apron.

“Can I help you?” She asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Um, just need a cup of tea.” He replied, licking his lips and glancing around the kitchen.

“Oh, of course, right away.”

“I'd hate to put you out.” Sy said, alarmed.

Clara chuckled at him, pulling down a cup from a high cabinet. “It's what the Warren's hired me for.” She assured him. “I'm guessing it's for Lily.” She added, moving about the kitchen as she put the things together to make the tea.

“Yeah.” He nodded, then patiently waited for her to finish and took the cup from her. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Clara smiled, and returned to what she had been doing.

Sy carefully took the cup back upstairs to Lily, smiling as he stepped into the bathroom and saw her lounging comfortably in the tub. He was glad she could relax and let the stress go, even if it was for a little while. Lily stirred as he sat down beside her, smiling at him and taking the cup of tea from his outstretched hands and let out a pleased moan.

“Feels like a spa day.” She chuckled, handing her teacup back to Sy for him to hold, so she could relax back again.

“You deserve to relax.” Sy replied, softly. “You've got an important job to do.”

“Yeah, I'm growing a Syverson.” Lily chuckled, teasingly.

“Exactly.” He laughed back. “That's no easy feat to bring one of us into the world.”

“Bringing a Syverson into the world is just the start of it, then we have to raise them.”

“Oh, trouble, trouble, trouble.” Sy grinned at her. “Nothing, but trouble.”

“Toil and bubble.” Lily giggled, fully amused and lighthearted.

“Come on, sleepy, out with you.” Sy said, setting her empty teacup on the vanity counter and pulled the towel off the bar and held it open for her.

“Okay.” Lily replied, stifling a yawn with her hand.

Stepping out of the tub and into Sy's arms, she rested her forehead against his chest and let him dry her off. Sy had taken a liking to drying her off after she showered or bathed, since she'd become pregnant, none of which Lily protested to, she was usually very sleepy by the time she got out of them, so having him there to finish up was always nice.

“Oh, fuck.” He barked, after helping back into her clothing. “Your pillow is still in the truck.”

“It won't kill me to have one nap without it.” Lily said, through yet another yawn.

“You were a very cranky mama bear the last time you didn't have that thing to sleep with.” He reminded her. “I'll go down and get it, just sit tight.”

“I'd rather lay tight.” She huffed, starting to get cranky as she shuffled over to her bed and laid down.

Sy rushed back downstairs and nearly collided with Violet. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He panted, making sure she was all right. “ Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, where's the fire, Mr. Syverson?”

“Lily's laying down for her nap and I just realized she doesn't have her pregnancy pillow and she always wakes up very cranky, when she doesn't have it to sleep with.” He explained, calming down.

Violet smiled up at Sy, touched and pleased at the plain devotion he had for her granddaughter. “Well, we can't have that, now can we?” She chuckled, rolling back out of his way.

“No, ma'am.” Sy shook his head at her.

“Violet, Mr. Syverson. Just call me Violet.” She informed him as Sy reached the front door.

He paused, hand on the door and smiled at her, remembering when Lily told him to call her by her given name. “Of course, Ms. Violet.” He nodded at her, politely.

Violet smiled back at him and Sy went out to his truck.

“Hey, girl.” Sy said, opening the passenger door of the truck and only to get attacked by Aika's tongue. “I know, I know. I haven't forgotten about ya. I promise.” He chuckled, petting her. “I'll come back down in a couple minutes and take care of you. But first, I have to take care of your mama.” He said, reaching in the back seat for Lily's U-Shaped pillow, pushed Aika back and closed the door again, before rushing back upstairs.

“Okay, pillow.” Sy said, bursting into the room, only to find Lily curled into a ball and sound asleep, making him chuckling. He situated her pillow and gently unrolled Lily from her ball and slipped her between her pillow, before covering her up.

“Sleep sweet, Angel.” He whispered, kissing her cheek softly, then went back downstairs. “Um, do you know where Ms. Violet is?” He asked the servant that had served him and Lily tea when they had first arrived.

“Yes, she's in the private study, right through there.” She replied, pointing the way.

“Thank you.” He nodded, then went down, gently knocking on the door.

“Enter.”

“Ms. Violet?”

“Ah, Mr. Syverson, I'm trusting the pillow crisis was averted?” She asked, an amused glitter in her eyes.

Sy chuckled. “It was, thank you.”

“Then, what can I help you with?”

“I, uh, brought Lily and I's dog with us...” He said, sheepishly, though Lily's grandmother seemed like a very sweet woman, Sy got the vibe she was the authority in this household and crossing her wasn't the way to go. “She's in my truck and I didn't want to take her out without asking first, so I didn't step on any toes and cause any issues with you and your husband.”

“What kind of dog is she?”

“She's a German Shepherd.” Sy replied, licking his lips. “I found her in the war-zone on my last deployment.” He half explained to her.

Violet blinked several times at Sy. “You were in the military?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He nodded, with a deep sense of pride. “I was a Captain in the U.S Army, Special Forces, for more than ten years.”

“What's the pup's name?”

“Aika.”

“Well, Aika is more than welcome here.” She told him. “As long as she behaves herself.” She added, a soft smile on her face.

“She's a very well behaved dog, you have my word.” Sy replied, smiling back at her.

“Good.” Violet nodded. “Just make sure you keep her out of the orchards or Davis will have a never-ending fit.”

“Will do.”

Excusing himself, Sy went back out to the truck and put Aika on her leash, walking her around the front of the property and away from the orchards, making sure to clean up after her, then brought her inside, taking her upstairs to Lily's room, where she curled up on the bed with Lily, before he decided to do a little exploring himself before lunch.

He wandered into the orchards, seeing the short trunks, but wide crowns, light green and shiny apples weighing down its branches and a couple littered the ground. There easily had to be a hundred trees of the same sort for as far as Sy could see in the area he was in, before he moved on. Sy came to a small dirt lane and crossed it into a totally different portion of the orchard, these trees were still squat and wide, but the apples on their branches were medium sized and mostly two toned, a dull red that faded into a yellow-y green color.

He crossed another dirt road and found another orchard of another kind of apple, this one a light yellow color, when he heard voices and then his name and turned, seeing Lily's grandfather, realizing he had wandered into the south orchard.

“What are you doing out here?” Davis asked, approaching him.

“Just looking around.” Sy replied, keeping his tone guarded. “Lily's told me a lot about the place.”

“And where is she?”

“Back at the house, sleeping.” Sy told him, his shoulders stiff. “She gets tired a lot with the baby.”

“Hm.” Davis huffed and turned on his heels.

“What's your problem?” Sy barked after him, unable to hold his temper any longer. “She just wants her grandfather, the man that raised her, back in her life, in her child's life. Not your money or your business, just your love and affection.”

Davis spun around on his heels to face Sy. “I might have raised her, because my Daisy died, and her father was an unreliable scum, but she's making the same mistake her mother did. I won't be part of that again.”

“I won't be there when it kills her too.” He hissed, then stormed off.

Lily woke up to Sy's angry pacing at the foot of the bed and cursing under his breath, and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “What's wrong, Bear?” She asked, frowning at him.

“Your grandfather is a pigheaded, son of a bitch.”

Her mouth fell open for a moment, then her brows drew together and her eyes narrowed. “Did the two of you get into an argument?”

“Sorta.” He huffed back.

“For the love of Jesus, Austin.” Lily barked at him, pressing her hands to her face. “Why?”

“I didn't go lookin' for it, Lily.” He retorted, stopping his pacing. “I was just checking out the orchards and ran into him. One thing came to another, I asked him what his problem was, all you want is his love and affection back, not his damned money or his orchard, and his reply was you're making the same mistake your mother made and you'll end up dying because of it too.”

“Which you will fucking not!” He added, a panicked fright breaking through his burst of anger.

“Of course, I'm not going too, Bear.”

Lily sighed, shaking her head and running her hand through her hair, before getting up out of bed. “I'll be more than all right. We have a great doctor and an amazing hospital back home. Plus, I have you to take care of and look after me, the whole time. I'll be perfectly safe and sound.” She told him, hugging her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest.

“Don't listen to him, Sy. He's just a grumpy old man, set in his ways.”

“What's that make me?” He asked, half jokingly.

“My boyfriend and Papa Bear.” She giggled, tilting her head back to look up at him.

“Good to know, Mama Bear.” He teased back, dipping his head to kiss her. “The fuck was that?” He asked as two loud dinging sounds filled the house.

“That is the lunch bell.” Lily replied, pulling away from him. “One ding is breakfast, two is lunch and three is dinner.” She explained to him, finding her shoes and slipping them back on. “Old Virginian hospitality, Syverson. I know you Texans aren't used to it.”

“Oh, you posh and polished Southerners.” He teased back, following her downstairs. “Give me the ringing of a triangle any day and this cowboy will know the way to the dinner table.”

“Remind me to buy one for our house, then.” Lily giggled, showing him into the family dinning room.

“Buy what for your house?” Violet asked, already seated at one end of the table.

“Oh, Sy was making fun of us for being—what did you call it?” She asked, looking at him as he vigorously shook his head at her. “Ah yes, posh and polished Southerners, for having a meal bell.” You grinned at him, impishly. “While, pointing out the Texas Cowboy in him could only find his way home, if he heard the call of a triangle bell.”

“I said, I would be able to find my way to the table. I know my way home, thank you very much.” He spoke up, his cheeks pink underneath the hairs of his beard.

Both Lily and Violet's laughter filled the dining room, but Sy soon joined them. But, the laughter died down as Davis entered the room, taking his place at the other end of the table, practically sucking the air out of the room as he took his seat.

“How is the south orchard doing?” Violet asked, as lunch was being served.

“One of the original York apple trees is starting to fail for some reason.” Davis replied, picking up the salt shaker. “Mac and I were running through a list of things we can do to save it.” He explained, paying closer attention to his food than to the others at the table with him.

“This looks really good.” Sy commented, licking his lips at his plate.

“It's one of Lily's favorites.” Violet smiled at him. “Creamy Shrimp pasta.”

“I used to try and bribe Clara into making it for every meal once for a whole summer.” Lily chuckled, twirling the angel hair pasta around her fork. “Never worked out.”

“Didn't deter you from trying though.” Violet chuckled, smiling fondly at her granddaughter. “I'm more than sure you'll love what Clara is making you for dinner.”

“I have no doubt.” She smiled back.

“Oh, Mr. Syverson, if you'd like a place to park your truck, I'm sure Davis could show you where the garage is.” Violet said, her eyes on her husband.

“Thank you, Ms. Violet.” Sy replied, smiling at her. “And, please, call me Sy or Austin, whichever you might prefer.” He told her, a bit shyly.

“Austin, it is.” Violet answered, giving him a sweet smile. “But, you can do that for him, can't you?” She said, lifting a brow at her husband, with an expression that dared him to object to her request.

Davis stared at his wife, his hard brown eyes holding Violet's stern blues, before his shoulders dropped slightly. “I'll show you after lunch.”

“Thank you.” Sy replied, stiffly.

Lily rested her hand on Sy's thigh, gently squeezing it, trying to keep him calm and relaxed. “How have the orchards been?” Lily asked her grandfather, trying to open any sort of connection with him. “I know picking season is coming up soon in the next few months.” She pointed out, gathering up a forkful of her shrimp pasta.

There was a long silence at the table, each second made Lily's heart clench tighter, fearing her grandfather would just continue to ignore her and pretend she didn't exist. She didn't know how much more of his coldness she could take, before it became too much to bear and she would just want to leave again.

No matter how much it would hurt.

“Other than the York tree showing signs of white rot, the orchards are as productive and fruitful as ever.” He finally spoke.

“What happens if you don't cure the white rot?” Lily frowned, concerned for the tree.

“We lose the tree.” Davis sighed, resting back in his chair and tossing his napkin onto the table beside his plate. “It'll only be the third originally planted tree on the farm we've ever lost. Well, with any luck the rot won't spread and it won't hit us too hard.” He explained, looking at her.

“Just because you lost one, don't mean you'll lose more.” Lily replied, holding his gaze.

Davis dropped his eyes and nodded his head, sighing, then looked up at Sy, noticing his empty plate. “You done?”

“I am.” Sy nodded, wiping his mouth.

“Come on, and I'll show you where the garage is and you can park your truck.” He said, standing up, leaving his half eaten lunch on the table.

“I'll be right back.” Sy whispered to Lily, kissing her cheek and stood, following her grandfather out of the house.

The walk from the house was silent as they stepped off the paved driveway and onto a pea gravel lane that led a little ways away from the house, through a small grove of very ancient looking weeping willows to a large building with several vehicles parked outside of it.

“You can park it here.” Davis said, motioning to the area in front of them.

“Thanks.” Sy nodded to him, then turned back to get his truck.

Bringing his truck around and finding a place to park it, Sy got out and and grabbed their duffel bag out of the back and locked up, heading back up to the house; when Davis stopped in his tracks, noticing the duffel bag slung over his shoulder; the worn military green and the faded, black U.S letters.

“Something the matter?” Sy frowned, turning back to him.

“That's a military bag.” Davis replied.

“Yes, it is.” He nodded, shifting it on his shoulder and tilting his head at the other man.

“It's yours?”

Sy's shoulders slumped and he stared at the old man. “I served more than ten years in the U.S Army as a Captain in the Special Forces.” He explained to him. “I retired almost a year ago.”

“How did you and Lily meet?”

“As I said, I retired almost a year ago and I returned home to Austin, Texas.” Sy replied, sighing. “Even though I could live quite well on my retirement, I don't like not having a job or being idle. So, I went about applying for jobs, mostly jobs I could do with my hands, construction jobs and such. A construction company told me about a contract that they had gotten from a young lady, who needed help fixing her place up in Celina, which is about three hours south of Austin. I called about it and got the job. I'm sure you guessed, it was Lily.” He smirked, chuckling to himself.

“I started fixing the place up for her and we grew close, especially after we helped each other through a few traumatic things.”

“Like, what?”

“I have pretty severe PTSD from my time in deployment and Lily's gotten me through more than one episode.” Sy smirked, blushing slightly and toeing the ground with the tip of his boot. “She's the guiding light to holding them back.” He whispered softly. “As for her, she's been through a lot in the last five years, especially the fear and turmoil caused by Jak.” He said. “There's nothing on this planet, there hasn't been anything on this planet, I wouldn't do to ensure her happiness and safety.”

Sy looked Davis dead in the eyes, a deep seriousness coming over him, even though he had a knot in his stomach. “Listen, your granddaughter isn't a little girl anymore. She's a grown woman, and a beautiful, loving and intelligent one, at that. She's so incredibly caring for the people around her, even when she's been so hurt and her trust in people has been cut deeply. Her work ethic is admirable, she built a company from the reclusion of her own home, that she hadn't left in more than three years, and it is thriving. She's even currently in the process of interviewing people to fill two positions, because she has so many clients, that she's in need of the extra help.”

“You're projecting the fear of your daughter’s mistakes and death on Lily and it isn't fair to her, or to you and your wife.”

“My Daisy Mae's misfortunes aren't the only failures that have me disappointed in the situation.” Davis said, rolling his jaw at Sy.

Sy huffed at him, biting his lip and nodding his head at him. “You think I'd be some, what was it, unreliable scum, like her father?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.

Davis sighed back at him, scrubbing a palm over his wrinkled forehead and lifted a brow at him. “Come with me.” He said, motioning him back towards the house.

Pressing his lips together, Sy followed him back up to the house and into Davis's private study, setting the duffel bag down by the door as Davis closed it behind him. Davis motioned to a leather and mahogany upholstered chair in front of a cold fireplace, then moved over to a small table of bottles and glasses, pouring them both a drink. He handed Sy a glass and took the seat across from him, taking a long sip.

“Smooth stuff.” Sy commented, licking his lips and admiring the rich, amber liquid.

“Maker's Mark, Kentucky bourbon whiskey.” Davis replied, smirking at his glass, appreciatively.

“Anyhow.” He cleared his throat, balancing his glass on the arm of his chair. “Palmer Hughes. He came to work here in the summer of 1985, he was twenty years old and Daisy was eighteen. I knew the boy was trouble the moment I set eyes on him and knew I should have sent him picking.”

“But, for whatever reason, and against my better judgment, I didn't.”

“He took an instant liking to our Daisy, who was ordinarily a good mannered, well behaved and proper girl. But, as soon as he set his eyes on her, he started corrupting her. He would stop coming to work in the fields to sneak himself and her off the property and go into town or wherever it was they would go to. Daisy started to become more defiant and rebellious. One of our church elders even spotted her and Palmer with a group of their lowlife friends in a questionable area of town, getting high, smoking and drinking.”

“It was such an embarrassment.” He sighed, taking a deep gulp of his drink. “When Daisy was twenty-one, she came to her mother and I and told us she was pregnant. Palmer had split the moment he found out about it. But, I tracked his no good ass down and dragged him back. He and Daisy got married just before Lily was born.”

“What happened?” Sy asked, frowning at him, the burn of the alcohol melting through the knot in his stomach as he thought about it. “How did her mother die?”

“She developed a hemorrhage that the doctor's couldn't get under control, so she ended up bleeding to death.” Davis explained, growing pale at the memory of the doctor's telling him and his wife the news of their daughter’s death, their only child. “For his part, Palmer did seem distraught over her death. But, he blamed Lily for it. So, he spent the rest of her life coming in and out of it, before Violet and I finally just adopted her and permanently took care of her.”

“It was Violet and I that ended up naming Lily, as well. Daisy hadn't picked one, that we were aware of, and Palmer wasn't being cooperative with anyone, us or the hospital staff.”

“Where is her father now?”

Davis sighed and carefully regarded Sy for a long moment, before replying. “He died, some years ago.”

Sy blinked at him, shocked. “You never told Lily this.”

“No.” He shook his head, guilty. “Vi and I thought it would be best that we didn't.”

“That's not really for either of you to decide.” Sy frowned at him, annoyed. “Lily deserves the truth.”

“I know she does.” Davis agreed. “I'll tell her, one day. As for you, Austin.” He met Sy's eyes. “I've unjustly projected my prejudices of Palmer onto you. You are, not even an ounce, the man he was. You are a man I wish my own daughter would have met and fallen in love with. But, I am glad my granddaughter met, fallen in love with and is having my great-grandbaby with you.”

“Thank you.” Sy answered, taking his compliment and finished off his drink.

[renaerys]

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

[a-master-procrastinator]

Incorrect Quote Game

Tagged by @palepinkycat, thank you :)

Rules: go to this quote generator, enter your characters’ names and have a good laugh

Technically I only used one OC in this and was going to change that, but then got a little carried away (bc it's much fun and bc I love BH crew), so long post (had to cut like half of that stuff, and it's still too long).

Mako: I have a bad feeling about this… Jett: What do you mean? Mako: Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble? Jett: No? Gault: That actually explains so much.

---

Jett: You’re giving me a sticker? Blizz: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!” Jett: I’m not a preschooler. Blizz: Fine, I’ll take it back- Jett: I earned this, back off!

---

Mako: What’s the straightest thing you’ve ever done? Jett: *sighs* Jett: I killed a man.

---

Gault: If you get in trouble, I'm gonna be like… a lawyer to you. Ok? Jett: Okay. later on Voss The Three: Hunter! Sit down on the chair, you're in trouble. Gault, whispering: Deny everything. Jett, loudly: That isn't a chair.

---

Torian: Do you cook? Jett: I made a cake once. Gault: Yeah, it was good. Jett: Really? Gault: Don’t make me lie twice.

---

Jett: Your smile? It makes my day. Torian: Your happiness? I live for that. Mako: A room? Get one. Gault: Hotel? Trivago.

---

Mako: *is hugging Blizz* Torian: Hey! It's my turn to hug Blizz! Torian: *grabs Blizz* Jett: *kicking down the door* What do you mean, "yOuR tUrN"? We agreed now is my time slot! Mako: No, It's still my turn! Blizz: *suffocating* Guys, I love you, but just because I'm the smallest doesn't mean you can be hugging me constantly! Torian: But we need the moral support! Mako: And you're small! Which is cute! Jett: If I don't hug you right now I think the depression will kick in and my body will stop functioning. Blizz: *close to tears* Well- I, I guess.

---

Gault: They… well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff? Mako: Um, murder??? Jett: Adventuring! Torian: Tuesday.

---

Jett: Is there anyone here who’s actually straight? Mako: *raises hand* Gault: *puts her hand down*

---

somewhere on Hoth

Torian: I'm cold. Jett: Here, take my jacket.

meanwhile

Mako: I'm cold. Gault: I can't control the weather, Mako.

---

Mako: HYDRATE OR DIE-DRATE! Mako: *aggressively throws water bottles* Torian: Uh… what's up with her? Gault: She's trying to yell mental health and wellbeing into us. Mako: I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU! Jett, crying: It's working.

---

Gault: I still don’t have a New Year’s resolution. Jett: You could lose a few. Torian: You could be less lazy. Mako: Don’t be such a bitch. Gault: Okay DAMN, SHIT.

---

The crew when they drop food on the floor Mako: Aw man. *throws it away* Torian: Five second rule! Jett: Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *eats it off the floor* Blizz: *sobs on the floor*

---

Jett: I just want someone to take me out. Mako: On a date? Gault: With a sniper gun? Torian: Both if you're not a coward.

---

Mako: You bought a taco? Gault: Yes. Mako: From the same transport that hit Jett?! Gault, with a mouthful of taco: Well, me starving ain't gonna help her.

---

Mako: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective? Gault: *crouches down* Jett: *kneels down* Torian: *sits on the floor* Mako: Mako: I hate all of you.

---

Blizz: Uh, boss? Mako is in the pool and I don't think she's waterproof. Jett: What? Torian: I think he meant, Mako is drowning. Jett: WHAT?! Meanwhile Mako: *is drowning* Gault: OH MY GOD, Mako! KEEP SWIMMING! Mako: I can't swim, dumbass— *sinks* Gault: Mako!

---

Gault: You're a lying piece of shit! Jett: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD! Torian: I'm leaving and I'm taking Blizz with me! Mako, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

---

Mako: Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically. Jett: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes. Gault: Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting. Jett: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

---

HK-51: Query: If you took a shot for every time you made a bad decision, how drunk would you be? Mako: Maybe a bit tipsy? Torian: Drunk. Jett: Wasted. Gault: Dead.

---

Mako: I told HK to grab snacks for everyone. Jett, looking through the options: Why did you grab fruit snacks? Are you five? Who even likes Fruit Snacks? *Mako, Blizz and Gault raise their hands*

---

Jett coming back to the ship after Belsavis

Jett: We’re kind of missing something guys. Mako: Cohesion? Blizz: Teamwork? Gault: A general sense of what we’re doing? Blizz: And Torian is not here. Gault: Oh, and that, yeah.

---

Jett: Why is Blizz crying? Gault: He saw a leaf on the sidewalk and- Blizz: IT LOOKED SO CRUNCHY! Jett: Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say- Blizz: AND WHEN I STEPPED ON IT THERE WAS NO CRUNCH! Jett: NO, NOT THAT!

---

HK-51: Suggestion: Share dumbest scar stories. Blizz: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Mako: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and it burned. Torian: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Gault: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it in my hand and I got a really bad burn. Jett: I have emotional scars.

---

Jett, at Torian: You're my significant other. Torian: Yeah I am! Jett, at Blizz: You're my child. Blizz: Yes boss. Jett, at Gault: You're my bitch. Gault: Yeah I am- wait, what? Jett, at Mako: My bestie. Mako: Naturally. Jett, at Skadge: HA, GAY! Skadge: Fuck you.

(i had to bully Skadge at least once)

---

Torian: WHO ATE MY BREAD?! Torian: I'M GOING TO FUCKING K- Jett: I did? Torian: Kiss you and buy some more, you haven't been eating anything today. *walking away* Jett: Jett: He's gone Blizz. Blizz, coming out the closet with bread stuffed in his mouth: Twankh uh!

---

Jett: We need a plan to beat them. Gault: Okay, listen up. First, we fill their shoes with wet cat food. Jett: Gault: Judge me all you want, I get results.

---

Jett: *posts a super low-quality image to the group chat* Gault: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents. Jett: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you. HK-51: Unnecessary correction: Actually, master, I did the math. Gault would have $225, not $0.15. Gault: I’m right here…. Mako: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :) Blizz: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please Mako: Sorry I only have a dollar. Blizz: :( HK-51: Unnecessary correction: I just realized I was wrong, Gault would have $22,500, because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent. Blizz: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice. Gault: You can buy anything you want with $22,500. Jett: Yeah, and he wants soda and apply juice. Gault: Apply juice to what. Jett: Directly to the forehead. Torian: … Torian: Great chat guys.

[crosbys-guccifloral-crocs]

She’s been teasing h all night and he goes home and they fuck super rough and he doesn’t realize she’s slipping and goes downstairs to get water and she thinks he’s leaving her/she sub drops:(

Kill me, why don’t you? 😩❤️. Hope you love this.

Warnings: FLUFF, very mild, non-detailed smut.

Tags: Dom!Harry, Soft Dom!Harry, sub!reader***

It was Gemma and Michel’s rehearsal dinner and Y/N had been teasing Harry profusely all evening. Whether it was grinding up against him on the dance floor, palming him under the dinner table or making eye contact with him while eating chocolate covered strawberries and letting the juices drip down her lips. He was about to lose his cool. He was sure of it. He needed to get her home and regain control, as it should be. So, he approached his wife and mother on the dance floor and stole her away.

“Sorry, mum.” He said, placing and arm around his wife’s waist and leading her away. “We’re going to head out now. See you tomorrow at the church, bright and early.” He finished, giving his mum a tight lipped smile before leading Y/N away from the crowd and growling harshly in her ear. “Yer in deep trouble, missy.”

The car ride home was tense, H gripped the steering wheel of his Range Rover so tight his knuckles turned white. Y/N didn’t dare say a word, she just bit her bottom lip and looked out her window; occasionally squirming in her seat — a pathetic attempt at trying to rid the tension building up between her legs. She was so wet for her husband that she was afraid the leather beneath her may be wet when she exited the car.

Once inside their home, Harry threw his car keys into the bowl that was situated in the front foyer of their home.

Kicking off his shoes he barked, “strip. Y/N. Now.” It was a simple, yet serious request that for some reason made Y/N giggle. As she undid her dress H said to her, “oh, you think this is funny, Y/N? You wanna play games, love? Fine. I’ll fuckin’ show yeh who’s in charge. And I can assure you, it’s not you.” He grumbled, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder so that her feet were in his face and her head was at his arse.

As he entered their bedroom he threw her rather roughly onto the bed — but not to hurt her, only enough to assert his dominance. Yanking off his tie and kicking off his Gucci dress pants, H says to his wife, “who are you and what have you done with my wife? My sweet, innocent Y/N.? Because, judging by what I witnessed this evening you sure as hell aren’t her. My wife doesn’t grind on the dance floor like some hooker, and she damn well doesn’t eat strawberries like some porn star.” He growled, crawling over her gorgeous naked body sprawled out on their bed.

He didn’t even check to see if she was wet enough before he entered her. He knew she was. The evidence of that was currently drying on the Italian leather passenger seat of his Range Rover.

He soon began pounding relentlessly into his wife’s tight and soaking core.

“Yeh were real naughty tonight, baby. Did yeh like dancing like a whore f’me? Did acting like a dirty slut turn yeh on?” He asked as he continued his harsh, satisfying movements.

“Yes, H!” She screamed. He actually enjoyed having rough sex with his wife when they were in their proper mind set. He loved loving her and cuddling her when she was subby though because his wife wasn’t the type to be all that affectionate. She wasn’t one for random hugs and kisses unless she had a shit day at work or saw that he did. Seeing her husband sad or angry often caused her to sub-drop almost instantly. So, the fact that he didn’t foresee what was about to occur was unusual.

After he and Y/N were both spent and completely satisfied, he kissed her softly on the lips and made his way to the kitchen to fetch them some waters.

Upon his return to the bedroom he noticed some unusual changes in his wife’s behaviour. After they make love his wife usually runs them a shower while he gets the drinks or she reads her parenting magazines— they don’t even have children yet, nor is she pregnant but as she says “it never hurts to be prepared.”

But now? She was curled up on her side of the bed staring at their wedding photo on her bedside table.

“Hey, lovey. ‘M back,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss her cheek as he got under the covers with her. Putting his arm around her waist he added, “brought yeh a Voss, love. Yeh must be parched. Know I am. That last round took a lot outta me.” He joked, kissing her ear. When she didn’t answer him, he got up from his place on the bed to come around to her side. But the shift in weight on the mattress caused Y/N to shoot up from her position in the bed.

“Wait!” She cried out, grabbing his wrist. “Please, daddy, don’t leave. M’sorry I was such a slut t’night. Didn’t mean to upset yeh. Promise I’ll be a good girl! I will, please don’t go!”

“Whoa, whoa, love. ‘S fine. ‘M not going anywhere. Was just gonna put yer water bottle next to yeh. ‘M here. Yer okay. Why didn’t yeh tell me you were slippin’ huh? Coulda cuddled yeh a bit longer.” He sighed, getting back into the bed and spooning his wife. “Not goin’ anywhere. Not without yeh, at least. Do have somewhere to be tomorrow though. Can’t believe Gem’s gettin’ married tomorrow, can you, love?”

Slowly coming out of her subspace, Y/N said, “actually, I can. Never thought we’d beat her to it, if ‘m bein’ honest, H.” She chuckled.

“Wha’??” He gasped, eyes wide and faking shock.

“Well, it only took yeh 4 years to propose. Michel did it in 2.” She giggled.

“Oh, yer gonna get it for that, missy.” He growled playfully, flipping her so that he could straddle her and pepper her pretty face with kisses.

[harryfeatgaga]

I LOVE HARRY SO MUCH I AM SO FUCKING OVERWHELMED SEND. HELP. PLEASE.

MOOOOOOOD

Anonymous said:Tell me now! Tell me now! Tell me will you ever love me again, love me again????? 

NOW IM SEARCHIN EVERY LONELY PLACEEEE EVERY CORNER CALLIN OUT UR NAMEEEEEEEEE

Anonymous said:FTDT is still that bitch! Yes Harry give me the sad emo songs so I can cry for no reason!

GOD I KNOWWWWW

Anonymous said:Paige oh my fuck I just dreamt that Harry promised he’ll release anna if I suck his d*ck or he’ll release medicine if I suck his d*ck and swallow I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO GIVE HIM AN ANSWER MY SISTER WOKE ME UP

OFKGHVFJGNHJFGNGJKL

Anonymous said:Idk if larries are racists or delusional but when i say that harry would look good with a yovanna ventura (a latina model) they called me out for “forcing him who to love”, uhm???! What?? ALL I DID WAS SAYING HOW GOOD THESE TWO LOOK HOW TF AM I FORCING HIM ON ANYTHING??!

I-

Anonymous said:i look at harry when he was 19 living the best life and looking GOOD and now i’m 19 and still out here looking like a troglodyte

ksnjdbfhjnfgjvkJNFHGIUJKNHJ

Anonymous said:throwback to when i was in melbourne and i was driving (i can’t drive who the fuck gave my license anyways) and i have the worst eyesight and one of my contacts fell out so i pulled over on this high way and put my contact in then had a sip of water but it was a voss bottle so a police car pulled over thinking it was a vodka bottle ://// - sister anon

oh my god

Anonymous said:Jesus Christ I just remembered Freddie’s turning 3 in a few weeks…..I can’t believe it woah

thats crazy 

Anonymous said:Remember when Victoria Secret models were singing the n-word in bodak yellow backstage and no black models were in it? Also the model devon windshield or whatever tf her name is compares the struggle of getting a blonde highlight with POC? Oof another reason why Victoria’s Secret should be cancelled

a mess

[nothingsolutions]

kev /.  /

playboi carti blaring 

did u ever own a tech deck: yes I have unfortunately only cause I never knew how 2 use it

We taking a road trip 2 Area 51

ur panicking but can only send an emoji: eggplant

thoughts on Target produce: she’s interesting. has a life of her own. all the colors n textures shapes. (wut would her name b) Something kewl idk let me think. a creature.

solar power? Ufos (y) cause cause u need power 4 the ppl ur gonna abduct

if u had a spaceship wut color: burnt orange or hot pink. juss 2 let em kno i’m here. 

Ima Leo I like attention

Wut do u think I am? ughhhhh (im a gemini) oh god

a muse: anything that doesn’t look real. biggest inspo is Petra Colins. 

Puts up the standard of things not looking normal. She does whatever she wants and thats the best. Thats what I try 2 do

something u aspire to be that inanimate: well everything is alive spiritually. maybe grass cause of how grounded it is. its v vibrant. I love color. 

u can tell cause the reflection of my Mac (green)

is it narcissistic to make urself ur background: absolutely. If no1 ones gonna luv u who is?

what water brand: a liter of voss or smart water

Water is always with me

I always drink 3 bottles b4 bed.

gas station order: lollypop and water

dentist or doctor? doctor they scare me. which is good

fav piece of clothing under $5: well i cant find my fav piece under $5, how about fav piece (ok) my archive gold golf shirt from 2017

what do u shoot wit mainly: fujifilm s700. luv recommending cause so cheap

what kinda cheez it: regular they nostalgic

where u would live: los angeles 1000% (y) I consider myself an la whore I could roam 24/7 but when I get a convertible its game over. im never coming home

Wut kinda convertible? 2007 bmw series 6. first car. dont wanna crash it

from the perspective of a plant who are you: hold on... a succulent but the cool ones that r orange

you like jazz? Yea but wait hold on yea just yea

yellow: yes (y) reminds me of childhood best friend

la metro: ummm hello I luv it cause it reminds me of Anthony and I taking it all the time. Anthony is amazing

fav controversial celeb: Kim k she juss does so much 4 ppl. she amazing & helps ppl 

what were u doing 2 years ago today: sophomore year holy shit being insecure. a people pleaser. really sad deep down. rotten inside.

Fav color car: black I have2 choose black it looks lux glossy wait r u still typing?? (Yea im gud)

Would u delete instagram: no

Did u ever do a tbh: oh god of course it was culture

What’s ur first post: maybe anime or a picture of lps doll

Phone % 18%

How many unread emails: 3,311

Do u have blue light glasses: wut tf is a blue light glass

My experience with the casting director

it all felt like a movie

Hearing receca blacks date in the back seat

and the casting director next to me telling me to be a model

It felt like a dream

I woke up 3 times last night

quote 4 2day: The fear of looking stupid is holding u back

[queen-scribbles]

Change of Plans

Quick word of warning, this is almost 9k words, so.. know what you’re getting yourself into xD Silver more than made up for not talking to me for a while.

Silver had grown accustomed to many thing in her lifetime. Making her own ship repairs, always being on the move, dealing with scummy contacts, making plans on the fly and altering them even more on the fly. She could spin crap deals into something at least decent, choke down--or enjoy--any number of local delicacies, and suppress her gag reflex with the best of them. Usually.

Today, wading thigh deep through Hutta swamps, was not part of usually.

“I hate this planet,” she groused, forcefully quelling the urge to throw up. “It smells like the south end of a sweaty rancor.”

“It ain’t my favorite either, Sil,” Corso said sympathetically. “And do I wanna know how you know what the south end of a rancor smells like?”

“No, no you don’t.” She waved away a cloud of insects. “How much further?”

He stopped, pulled out a small datapad, and checked. “Just about a dozen yards in that direction.” He pointed the same way they’d been traveling and flashed her an encouraging smile. “We’re almost there.”

“Yeah, but then after the meet up we hafta go back.” As if to further emphasize her point, Silver smacked at something that was biting her neck. “And apparently, the local wildlife isn’t aware that you’re the only one allowed to nibble on me.”

Corso made a sound halfway between a laugh and choking. “How rude of them.”

“I know, right?” She slapped another one on her cheek as they resumed course.  “Dammit, what’s got Baz so paranoid? We’ve never had to meet this far off the beaten path-kriffin’ hell!”

The toe of her boot caught on something under water and Silver pitched forward, drenching herself in sour smelling swamp ooze.

“Sil!” Corso hurried toward the spot, but she’d resurfaced by the time he reached her. He grabbed her arm and helped her regain her balance instead. “You alright, gorgeous?”

“Alright, yes. Gorgeous, I don’t think so,” Silver said darkly. “I’m gonna kill Baz.” She ran her hands over her hair to squeeze out as much as she could and than shook it off into the swamp. She coughed, gasped for breath, and dug her fingers into Corso’s arm as she fought her gag reflex. “Hard to believe it was only a month ago we were at a swanky party gettin’ repeatedly thanked for savin’ Corellia and the Republic with it.”

“Does feel like it’s been longer’n that,” Corso agreed. “Prob’ly cause we jumped right back inta work. C’mon, let’s get this meeting over with so we can get back to Angel and I’ll help ya get cleaned up.”

Silver quirked a brow at him, wiping mud off her face. “Ya offerin’ to scrub my hard to reach spots, Riggs?”

He barely blushed. “Maybe a few that aren’t so hard to reach, too.”

“Deal. But first we see what Baz wants.”

>>.<<

The fidgety Mirialan waiting inside the long abandoned hut wrinkled her nose when Silver and Corso walked in. “Ewww, what happened to you?”

“You, Bazeryn Wilas, you happened to me,” Silver snapped back, half tempted to peel off her gloves and drop them on the rickety table for dramatic effect. But they were one of her favorite pairs, so if there was any hope they could be saved she wasn’t giving them up. “What is so kriffin’ important--not to mention secret--that the middle of a frangin’ swamp on Hutta of all places is the only acceptable location for a meet?”

Baz worried a loose stitch on her jacket cuff. “Can’t be too careful. Don’t want anyone t’ think I’m choosin’ sides.”

“Choosing sides?” Silver repeated, skeptical.

“Yer workin’ for the Pubs, ain’tcha?” Baz pointed out. “Gone legit. I don’t want anybody gettin’ the wrong idea about us meetin’.”

“While I see your point,” Silver said slowly. “I take offense at gone legit. My gripe with the Imps was personal. I just took Republic credits to finance it. Why pay for things myself if I can get one of the biggest governments in the galaxy to foot the bill instead?”

Behind her, Corso shifted position and she prayed none of his tells showed enough to give away how close she was walking the line between lie and truth.

“Okay, whatever,” Baz shrugged. “People talk’s all ‘m sayin’. I wanted t’ give ya a tip.”

“About?” Silver prompted. A trickle of swamp water ran down her spine and she fought the urge to wriggle.

“There’s a fella on Denon, needs help movin’ somethin’... sensitive,” Baz said, clearly choosing her words with care.

“Define sensitive,” Silver said, trying to be patient, but it was hard in her current state.

“Who says I know?” Baz retorted defensively.

“Oh, c’mon, Baz,” Silver groaned. It was like pulling teeth. “We worked together enough I know you don’t pass along a job without checkin’ it out first. You’re too careful, too worried a bad job’ll give you a bad rep. What’s so damn sensitive about this cargo?”

“It’s people,” Baz muttered reluctantly, sighing and crossing her arms.

Silver stiffened, eyes narrowing at the other woman. “Oh, hell no! You know I don’t do slaves, Wilas.”

“They’re not slaves!” Baz protested, head snapping up indignantly. “You know me better than that, Airen!”

It’s Riggs now... Even as the words floated through her head, Silver decided this was not the time to offer such a correction. “Well, if not slaves then who are they? I don’t wanna take part in spiritin’ away some serial killer who’s close to gettin’ caught either.”

“Would you listen-” Baz took a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s not slaves, an’ I’m pretty sure it’s not criminals, either. Like you said, I vet things. Couldn’t find much, but there haven’t been many major crimes on Denon recently, violent or otherwise. I think it’s just people tryin’ to get out of a bad situation under the radar. Kids runnin’ from bad parents or somethin’. But I don’t have any solid specifics. You want those you’ll have to contact the guy yourself and ask.”

“Fine,” Silver sighed. It couldn’t hurt to contact the guy. If it was too sketchy she didn’t have to say yes. Besides, she stank of swamp water and it was beginning to make her nauseous. “You know my holofrequency; send me the guy’s info and I’ll get in touch with him.”

Baz nodded. “Will do.”

“C’mon.” Silver tugged Corso’s arm so he’d follow her out of the hut. She waited until they were a good way clear before asking, “So, whaddya think?”

“Oh, there’s somethin’ sketchy about this, Captain,” Corso said, tossing a glance back at the hut. “I don’t think it’s a trap or anything like that, but my gut says there’s more to this than we’re hearin’.”

She nodded. “Knew there was a reason I married you.”

“I always thought it was my stunnin’ good looks an’ sense of humor,” he retorted, grinning.

“Well, them too. But I do love a man who’s perceptive. We can comm Baz’s contact and try to ferret out some more details after we get back to the ship and you make good on your offer.”

Corso chuckled and tweaked the end of her ponytail. “I like this plan, Captain Riggs.”

Silver grinned. “Thought you might.”

>>.<<

All told it took an hour and four uncompromising scrub downs to get the swamp stench off her skin, and another two washes beyond that to get it mostly out of her hair.

“Guess that’ll hafta do,” Silver sighed, sniffing at one of the long, skinny tendrils of wet hair as she untwisted the towel wrapped around her head. “I still smell Hutta.”

Corso laughed softly as he stepped up behind her. “Pretty sure you’re just bein’ paranoid.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer, taking a deep breath as her head came to rest against his chest. “All I smell is your shampoo. Considerin’ we used half the bottle just now, that’s no surprise.”

She tipped her head back against his shoulder to fix him with a skeptical look. “You’re just sayin’ that.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” he countered, kissing the top of her head.

Silver grinned, bringing her hands up to rest lightly against his arm. “No.”

“Why would I start now?”

“Good point.” She turned, still standing in his grasp, and Corso’s fingers slid into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Yet another reason why I married you.”

“You have quite a list,” Corso teased.

“I have quite a man,” Silver countered. She rocked up on tiptoe to steal a kiss, one hand instinctively grabbing at the towel wrapped around her as the movement loosened it and it started to slip. “We need to get dressed.” She stole another kiss. “Much as I like you in just a towel, I think we should look a tad more... professional when we reach out to Baz’s contact.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” Corso said with an impish smile. “Your wish is my command.”

Silver flashed an impish grin of her own. “Don’t tempt me.”

>>.<<

The contact info Baz sent was for an audio-only channel. That raised a few flags in Silver’s mind, but actually talking to the man assuaged her worries. Cagey as he was about the origins of the people who needed a “clandestine ride”, much as the charm in her voice reminded her of Darmas, her gut said go with it. Corso agreed. So they arranged to meet the man--Jay, he said they could call him--on Denon and hammer out exact details.

“Why all the secrecy?” Silver asked.

“For their safety, it’s vital they stay as far off the radar as possible,” Jay said. “We want the broken link to stay broken.” And with those cryptic words, he signed off.

“Well, that was an interesting conversation,” Silver said dryly, once the connection was dead.

“Sure was,” Corso agreed. “Not really much we can do ‘til we get there, though. I’m gonna fix up some dinner, you hungry?”

“Nah.” Silver shook her head. “Still nauseous from the swamp stench. Maybe some of that tea we picked up on Voss? I wanna look at the hyperdrive. It was makin’ weird noises our last few jumps, and I’d swear Risha said she’d look at it ‘fore she left, but it happened again comin’ to Hutta.”

“Maybe Angel hates this planet much as you do,” Corso teased, rubbing her back.

“They do say parents’ prejudieces can rub off on their kids,” Silver joked. “She’s the closest thing I got for now, so...”

Corso laughed, giving her a gentle push toward the hallway. “Go check on the baby, then.”

“Yes, dear,” she replied, snickering as she headed for the engine room.

>>.<<

Fortunately, the hyperdrive held up fine for the trip to Denon. The holo blinked as they landed, displaying the image of a man wearing a hooded jacket to obscure his face. It stayed just long enough for an obviously distorted voice to say “Come to these coordinates,” before flickering off.

“I’ll bet you twenty credits this is an SIS gig they’re outsourcing,” Silver commented as she guided the Corellian Angel to a near-perfect landing.

“Don’t say that too loud,” Corso said glibly. “‘Member this is an Imperial-aligned world.”

“Which supports my theory,” she shot back. “Aside from all the cloak-and-shiv nonsense, th’ SIS wouldn’t wanna draw attention to themselves. If we get caught with these people, whoever they are. there’s no tie back to the SIS. We’re just freelancers our ‘cargo’ contracted to get them from point A to point B.”

“I’m not plannin’ to get caught,” Corso said as he wriggled a holdout blaster down into his boot. They’d both agreed--just to be safe--that Torchy and Sparkles should stay on the ship.

“Oh, me neither, obviously,” Silver said as she powered down the Angel and grabbed Flashy to holster. “But I mean just in case. Would be just like a spy to make sure all their bases are covered like that.”

“Only one way to find out,” Corso shrugged. “Where are these coordinates he sent us?”

“Not far from the spaceport, actually, from the look of things,” she replied.  “Guess gettin’ to their ride quick is more important than anything else.”

“Either that or whoever they’re runnin’ from doesn’t know they’re gone yet and they’re just coverin’ their tracks for when that happens.”

“Which means they’re someone who’ll be missed,” Silver mused as they headed down the boarding ramp. “Deserters, maybe?”

“I’m all for helpin’ Imps switch sides,” Corso muttered,”but we should prob’ly stow the theorizin’ for now, considerin’ where we are...”

“Good point. So. This world’s a socio-economic trade hub. Tourist talk it is.”

“You gonna let me buy you somethin’ nice this time?” Corso teased, resting an arm loosely around her shoulders.

“You try that on every planet, dear,” Silver shot back playfully. “It hasn’t worked since Calius for a reason. I’m all set on things that sparkle.”

His lips twitched toward a smile at the not-subtle play on words. “Well, then, I’ll just have to adjust my strategy, won’t I, Captain?”

Lightly bantering back and forth, they made it through customs easily, then headed for the coordinates. It turned out to be a mid-scale apartment building only a few blocks from the spaceport.

“I stand by my belief that they’re valuing speed above secrecy,” Silver said in a glib undertone as she and Corso stepped into the turbolift. She pressed the button for the second floor. “Gutsy move if ya ask me...”

The lift reached their desired floor and they found the apartment they were looking for. Silver pressed the comm button next to the keypad and waited, fingers hooked through her belt loops. 

“Who is it?” crackled out of the speaker.

“I’m lookin’ for Jay,” Silver replied evasively.

There was a few seconds’ silence, and then a soft beep and whir as the door unlocked and slip open.

“Here goes nothin’,” she muttered.

“Really wish I had Torchy right ‘bout now,” Corso whispered, his fingers twitching restlessly.

“Ditto.” Silver strolled into the apartment with a healthy dose of false bravado.

The only ocupant in the front room was a man who looked roughly her age, with piercing blue eyes and tousled black hair. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his face schooled into a carefully neutral expression.

“You must be Jay,” Silver greeted him breezily. She darted a quick look around the room, noting possible cover--none--and exits--the door behind her and one behind Jay.

“And you must be the esteemed Captain Riggs.” Despite his guarded nature, the smile he flashed was warm enough.

“Or so I claim,” she baited. “I could be anyone, lookin’ for a sweet payoff.”

Jay shook his head, amusement creeping into his eyes. “You’re Riggs. Or is it still Airen? I’ve heard conflicting stories.”

Behind her, Corso shifted, sidling close enough he could swap their positions if things got dicey. “How’re you so sure that’s who she is?”

“Wanted posters, for one.” Jay held up a hand when both Silver and Corso stiffened. “Imperial wanted posters, Captain. Corellia made you a few enemies. But mostly it’s because we have a mutual friend. So I knew what you looked like. Didn’t mention how pretty you are, though.”

Silver snorted. “Save it, Slick. I’m not available.”

“I’m not allowed to compliment without an ulterior motive?” Jay needled good-naturedly. He turned to Corso. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Don’t I know it,” Corso returned coolly. “Whaddidja wanna see us for?”

As if on cue, the door behind Jay slid open and two figures stepped out. Both humans, a man and a woman, with brown hair and dark green eyes. Jay held up a hand, forestalling any comments they were about to make.

“I need you to get them out of here,” he said simply. “So far we’ve avoided Imperial notice, but I don’t see that lasting much longer. If we can do this right, the Empire won’t even know they were here and we can get them safely to the arms of the Republic.”

“And they are...?” Silver prompted, not reading anything beyond nerves from the green-eyed pair.

“Kel and Ezi Stantyn,” Jay replied, gesturing in succession to the man and woman as he introduced them. “Beyond that, all that’s important is the Empire not knowing they’re here. We’ll have to find a way to smuggle them onto your ship so there’s no record of you taking on passengers.”

Silver narrowed her eyes and took a shot. “Bet the SIS is good at that sorta thing, huh?”

Jay blinked, caught off guard for the barest fraction of a second, then smiled. “Heard you were good. Nice to know those reports weren’t biased or exaggerated. Whatever experience the SIS does or doesn’t have in this area, I’m guessing you have more.”

“Damn straight,” she grinned. She’d been right. “Fill me in on what we’re dealin’ with?”

>>.<<

Over the next hour or so, Jay ran them through all the measures and potential loopholes present in the spaceport security system. There were a lot of measures and not a lot of loopholes.

“Do they check delivery personnel?” Silver asked, studying the projected blueprint on the holotable.

“How d’ya mean?” Jay frowned, pursing his lips in thought and cocking his head.

“If, say, my husband an’ I found somethin’ we wanted t’ buy while bein’ all touristy, but it was too big to lug around with us while we browse, so we had it boxed and delivered to our ship. How close would they look at the delivery people? Would they let delivery people in, or is that a droid’s job here?”

“Droids handle deliveries here,” Jay confirmed. “But it was a good idea...” His eyes narrowed. “Although...” he pulled up a closer view of the departing checkpoint and skimmed the specs for the cargo scanner. “How do you feel about exotic pets, captain?”

“Depends on the pet,” Silver replied. “Why?”

>>.<<

A few hours and one winding jaunt through the most blatantly tourist trap parts of the city--which was enough fun to be worth the trip all on its  own--Silver’s comlink chirped. She traded a knowing look with Corso and clicked it on. “Yes?”

“Just confirming delivery of your purchases to your ship, Captain Riggs,” a clipped voice reported. “I’d make sure they were secured nice and tight before you take off; one of them looked rather banged-up. Wouldn’t want anything getting loose while you’re traveling.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Silver said. “Long as I don’t return to a ship full of free-range gizka, I’m happy.”

“Very good, ma’am. I hope the rest of your visit is pleasant.” The comlink beeped as the other party signed off.

“That Jay’s idea of an Imperial accent?” Corso muttered, amusement in his eyes.

Silver lightly smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “It was pretty good, when ya take into account regional dialect an’ all. Maybe it ain’t pure Dromund Kaas, but it was good enough. We’ll mosey our way back to the apartment, see if he has any final words of wisdom, and then hotfoot it outta here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Corso drawled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.  “An’ a better one than Jay had for gettin’ our, uh, cargo past the scanners.”

“Hey, I think usin’ the fact they don’t differentiate between life forms was kinda genius,” Silver said impishly. “All they scan for is drugs an’ toxins.  Long as neither a’ them show up, security don’t care. An’ it’s not like we came up with anything better.”

“Still just a little too simple,” Corso muttered.

“Nah, long as they don’t have any reason to be suspicious about, they don’t do a full work-up. An’ we aren’t suspicious. We ain’t even the Corellian Angel, if they have that flagged. I used one of those alternate transponder codes Risha left me as a goodbye present. We’re the Silverhawk. Nothin’ flagged on that since we didn’t get caught on the silkworm job. Hopefully we pull this off without gettin’ tagged. I like the Silverhawk.”

“Wonder why...” he teased.

Silver rolled her eyes and was about to retort when she noticed a pair of men staring at her intently. “Uh, sweetheart, is it just my imagination, or are those two abnormally interested in me?”

Corso swiveled casually, hiding his glance behind them by pretending to laugh at something she’d said and pressing a kiss to her hair. “Y’ mean the two sittin’ at that last tapcafe we passed?   It’s not your imagination.”

“Guess Jay’s not the only one who saw my wanted posters,” she muttered.

Corso swore under his breath, and settled his arm more protectivel around her. “Change of plans, Sil. We’re goin’ straight back to the ship.”

“No arguments here. I’ll comm Jay, let him know what’s goin’ on.”

“You trust him?” Corso asked, tone neutral--which meant he didn’t, at least not fully. 

“He seems like a good guy, an’ Tel’s only had good things to say about the SIS agents he’s worked with.” She snorted softly. “All two of them.”

“Your brother works for Republic SpecForce, Sil. ‘Course he got along with ‘em.”

“It’s sweet that you’re worried, but I don’t think he ratted me out. ‘Sides, doesn’t make much sense to hire me for a job and then sicc bounty hunters on me.”

“True,” Corso admitted sheepishly. “I’m just extra paranoid about the charming ones thanks t’ Darmas.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” Silver said with a nod as they hurried toward the spaceport.

>>.<<

No one stopped them on their return to the ship, but Silver still didn’t waste any time firing up the Angel. It was a good thing, too. Even as the systems spun up to full readiness, she glimpsed one of the men from the tapcafe in urgent conversation with the guards at the hanger entrance.

“Sil.” Corso’s tone made it clear he’d noticed as well.

“I know.” She punched the intercom. “You have ten seconds to get strapped in, or you’re in for a ride!”

She vaguely heard Bowdaar roar something and Guss begin to protest, but blocked it out as she counted as measured a ten count as she could under the circumstances. The moment lights went green, they were moving, fast as Angel could handle.

It was a clean getaway; no officials or ruffled feathers to worry about, but Silver didn’t relax until they hit hyperspace.

“Okay,” she sighed, playing with her ponytail. “We’re good. Next stop, Kerkoidia.”

“Thought we were takin’ em to Naboo,” Corso frowned as he unfastened his harness and moved to lean against the back of her seat.

“We are, but I still need to refuel Angel. Didn’t have time on Denon.”

“We were there for hours, Sil,” Corso pointed out. “How wasn’t there time?”

“Several other ships wanted a refuel, hon. We were fifth on the list. That particular spaceport was small, and can only do one ship at a time, they don’t have a fuel line in every hanger like some of the places we’ve docked,” she explained. “So they hadn’t gotten to us yet. We’re still decent, just can’t get all the way to Naboo. So we hafta refuel somewhere, Kerkoidia’s on the way and Republic-aligned, so it seemed the best choice.”

“Sounds good to me,” Corso nodded. “Now that we’re safe, you wanna let our passengers move to more comfortable quarters?”

“Sure.” Silver punched on the autopilot and stood. “They can have Risha’s room.”

“‘Zat big enough for two people?” Corso said, frowning as he followed her out of the cockpit.

“They only gotta share for a week,” Silver shrugged. “Even if it’s cramped, I’m sure they can manage.”

“What was the deal with that take-off boss?” Guss asked as they passed each other in the corridor.

“Runnin’ from bounty hunters,” Silver said. “Apparently I’m a wanted woman in Imperial space.”

“Fun,” Guss muttered. “Might wanna check our new cargo, make sure nothin’ got busted.”

“That’s what we’re doin’ right now,” Silver nodded. “Why don’t you an’ Bowdaar start workin’ on dinner? We didn’t get much for lunch-” she heard Corso’s stomach grumble as if in agreement-- “an’ we’ll probably eat early.”

“Sure, boss.” Guss headed for the galley as Silver and Corso ducked into the cargo hold. Exactly as she’d been worried, one of the crates had shifted and cracked open during takeoff, and now something like a dozen gizka--slightly daazed--were wandering around the cargo hold.

“Ah, dammit,” Silver muttered, trying to herd the small creatures to a back corner. “Corso, close the door, quick, before any of ‘em get out.”

He obliged, scooping up a gizka as it tried to make a break for it. “Wow, these guys are kinda cute.”

“They’re also a huge pain in the neck,” Silver retorted. “But yeah, they’re pretty cute. Help me get the crates open. We can use the lids to make a barrier, and I’m sure our passengers would like to move to more comfortable quarters.”

Working together, it was easy enough to pry the lids off the two large crates. They tipped them slightly, both to make it easier for the human occupants to climb out and to shunt the gizka occupants behind the makeshift barrier.

“Sorry about... all this,” Silver said to Kel and Ezi once the two were out and standing with her and Corso. “The rough launch, an’ the gizka an’ everything.”

“No trouble,” Kel mumbled, and Ezi nodded her agreement, coddling a runty gizka in her arms as she scratched its ear nubs. The gizka cooed appreciately and looked happy, so Silver didn’t object. 

“We can show you your room, and some of my crew are workin’ on dinner.”

Kel and Ezi nodded, gesturing that they would follow her.

Silver laid a hand on Corso’s arm. “Darling, why don’t you go make sure Guss hasn’t lit the galley on fire.”

“Right,” Corso said with a nod. “I’ll take care of that while you get them settled.”

They went their separate ways, Silver making very sure the door closed and locked behind them to contain the gizka before she led Kel and Ezi to their room.

>>.<<

The journey to Kerkoidia was uneventful--unless nausea from Guss’ cooking counted. (Silver had hoped having Bowdaar help him would improve things. It hadn’t. At least she was the only one to get it bad.) Kel and Ezi kept to themselves, spending most of their time in their room, along with the gizka, which Silver was pretty sure Ezi had adopted. Fine by her. One less to worry about. Nothing on the Angel broke or gave them any trouble, and--aside from one near-gizka breakout--Guss didn’t even screw anything up. Kerkoidia Control welcomed them without and holdup and acquiesced easily to Silver’s request for fuel.

“It’ll only take an hour or so to fuel up,” she explained to crew and passengers alike. “So not a lot of time for explorin’. But if you wanna go wander the hanger or spaceport for a change of scenery, go right ahead.”

Unsurprisingly, Guss took her up on it. Equally unsurprising, Kel and Ezi didn’t.

“Suit yourself,” Silver shrugged. “I’m gonna go see if they have any kinda gift shop with knick knacks I could send my brother. If you change your mind, just stay close enough we can find ya when its time to take off.’ She looked at Corso. “You wanna come, hon? Or d’ya feel more like stayin’ to help Bowdaar keep an eye on the ship?”

“Think I’ll stay this time, Sil. Still owe Torchy and Sergeant Boom Boom a good cleanin’.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. “But you have fun.”

She winked. “I am good at that. See ya later, then.” She wasn’t expecting much; Kerkoidia was hardly a major tourist destination. But something little she could send Tel as a joke wasn’t too much to ask for. She hoped.

It wasn’t. While the spaceport’s equivalent of a gift shop was just a nook with one of the locals hawking holoframes with images of the Maldinian City skyline and durasteel or plastiform models of some of the buildings, the prices were cheap. It was good enough for her. After spending a few minutes perusing the wares, Silver selected an extremely gaudy plastiform miniature of the Retail Caucaus building(because what’s the point of a joke gift if you don’t go all out?), paid for it, and headed back to the ship.

As she made her way through the huge, sprawling complex toward her hanger, the first tendrils of unease tugged at the back of Silver’s mind. Something was off. She detoured through the spaceport’s business wing at the last second, and figured out why: she was being followed. The hard-eyed man she’d noted in passing as she left the gift kiosk was lounging against the wall, pretending to be on comms with someone, but clearly darting glances at her. It’s just one guy, I can lose a tail, Silver began to reassure herself as her fingers twitched toward her comlink and she kept walking. But then she noticed the zabrak pretending to scan for an arriving party, but whose eyes continually drifted back to Silver. And then the woman with burn scars on her face, who Silver realized had been loitering outside the hanger bank when she left. Oh, damn.

With three of them following her, this was not just a tail. This was an ambush waiting to happen. And since one of them, at least, knew where her hanger was, they knew this was a detour and had probably caught on that she was wary. Which meant one of two things was likely going to happen very shortly: if they were after her, they would corner her and finish the job, and if they were after something or someone else from her ship, they would fade back and hit the hanger before her crew could prepare.

She increased her pace and reached for her comlink. “Corso, we’ve got a problem...” When she glanced over her shoulder again, all three watchers were gone.

>>.<<

She could hear gunfire before she reached the hanger. Oh kriffin’ hell. Silver’s fingers curled around the hilt of her blaster and she wished in vain for her stealth field generator as she plastered herself against the wall and edged closer to the hanger entrance. Her scattergun would also have come in handy, but she’d left Sparky on the ship in case Corso had time to clean it after he finished with his guns. So it was just her and Sparkles as the ambush for the ambush.

She slid along the wall, fast but quiet, peeked around the corner-

-and nearly butted heads with the zabrak she’d seen earlier. There was a stunned millisecond before both scrambled to get in the first shoot. Silver whipped Sparkles in a hard arc against the zabrak’s temple and the mercenary crumbled. Not before getting off a shot that grazed Silver’s shoulder and blew any hope of sneaking up on the others.

Dammit. Silver hissed in pain and irritation as she brushed her fingers over the fresh welt. It hadn’t done much damage beyond singe the sleeve of her favorite shirt, but she’d been counting on the element of surprise.

A blaster bolt winged off the wall by her head and Silver swore as she dove behind a large duracrete planter. It was lousy cover but she could worry about that in a minute. For now she peeked cautiously between the spiny leaves of whatever was growing on the planter to get the lay of the land.

She could only see the man and woman she’d noticed earlier, no extra back-up, which was good. The level of tactical thinking and the two were showing was not. There were only three of them because they thought three was all they needed.

“Sil?” Corso hollered, voice breaking her reverie.

“Still alive!” she hollered back. She couldn’t get a good angle on either Hard Eyes or Burn Scars from here, and they knew it. Silver looked around for somewhere with decent cover and a better shot, but the nearest thing was a bench almost fifteen feet away. And with the way Hard Eyes kept glancing toward her current spot, even trying for that would be really stupid.

Fortunately, Silver had never been opposed to stupid plans. Hell, half the time she survived because of them, along with a healthy dose of dumb luck. Corso’s gonna yell at me for this, she acknowledged silently, shifting her grip on Sparkles and briefly resting the barrel against her forehead in salute to yet another genuine Silver Airen Stars, I Hope This Works idea. With a deep breath for nerve, she stuck Sparkles around the planter and started firing blindly toward the mercenaries. A couple shot in, she moved from behind the planter and ran like hell for the bench. She heard the snap-sizzle of blaster bolts narrowly missing her as she dropped and slid behind her new cover--which did have a good line of sight on the two mercenaries. They were forced to split their attention between the hanger and her. Hard Eyes swiveled to keep Silver pinned down, while Burn Scars kept firing on whoever was in the hanger; probably Corso and Akaavi.

This could last awhile... Silver thought grimly, popping up to fire off a couple shots at Hard Eyes. Especially since I don’t have most of my gear. She smelled burning hair after Hard Eyes’ return fire and winced. That had been too close for comfort. Clearly, time for another stupid idea. She checked her comlink to see if she could coordinate with her crew this time, but there was just static.

Huffing loose wisps of hair out of her face, Silver pulled the tiny, ancient holdout blaster out of her boot and stared at it. I really wish I didn’t have to do this... She pinned the barrel under her boot and bent it--which was difficult, but not nearly as difficult as she’d expected--before rapping it hard against the edge of the bench. Hope this works. Sorry, Dad. She peeked one last time to verify where the mercs were standing, pulled the holdout’s trigger, and threw it as hard as she could.

For a pair of heartbeats there was nothing. Then an explosion shredded the air and Silver instinctively covered her head. After a moment, she looked around the bench again. Hard Eyes was on the ground, bleeding profusely from all the shrapnel lodged in his head, neck, and shoulder. She couldn’t even tell if he was still alive. Burn Scars was slumped against the wall looking dazed, and Silver was pretty sure she could still see the zabrak’s boots lying prone in the same place as before.

Now or never. Gripping Sparkles tightly, she abandoned her spot behind the bench and charged full-tilt for the hanger entrance. Her path took her directly toward a durasteel crate Corso had probably been using for cover. Rather than skirt it, Silver planted one hand atop the crate and smoothly vaulted over it--

--which turned into a less than smooth landing as pain seared through both her chest and leg and the sharp crack of twn blaster bolts echoed from roughly where she’d left the zabrak.

So. Not unconscious, was all she could think as she hit the ground with a yelp and rolled, her head smacking the floor. She heard Corso swear even as his hand settled on her arm and dragged her into the safety of his cover. “Kriff,” she panted, wincing in pan as her hand curled against her side. “Frangin’ hell. Be a dear and finish them off for me, will ya?”

Corso peeked around the wall and snapped off a few shots, ducking back at the return fire. “They’re dug back in, Sil. An’ you don’t look good. We need to get you outta here.”

“Corso, they’re gonna tag my frangin’ ship!” Silver hissed. “They do that, the transponder codes won’t matter. I don’t want them comin’ after us again in a couple months cuz they think we still have whatever the kriffin’ hell they’re after!”

“What if we do?” he shot back, firing blindly around the corner. “What if they’re after you?”

She snorted and regretted it. Stars, it felt like her ribs were on fire. “Sure, Imp bounty hunters workin’ in Pub space. That’s a worthwhile risk.”

“I’ve seen the bounty on your head, sweetheart,” Corso drawled. “It absolutely is.”

“Oh.” Silver leaned her head back against the wall. “All the more reason to kill ‘em...” Talking hurt, and she let the words trail off.

“Sil?” Corso nudged her with his boot. “Sil.”

She barely found the energy to groan.

“Damn it!” There was the sound of rapid blaster fire, and then a yelp-thud from roughly where Silver remembered Burn Scars being. “Akaavi!” Corso hollered, his arms sliding around her shoulders and under her knees. “See if you can take care of the last one!”

Silver missed Akaavi’s reply, her head lolling against Corso’s shoulder as he picked her up and lit out for the Angel’s boarding ramp. Her head hurt. Hell, all of her hurt. She closed her eyes and held on to Corso’s shirt.

“Sil? Stay with me, darlin’.” Corso pressed a kiss to her forehead as the clank of his boots against the floor underscored his worried tone. “Almost there.”

“Mmm,” she managed as he paused to hit the controls that opened the medbay door. She could feel the vibrations of Angel warmed up and ready. “Make sure... Guss... did it right....”

“I will,” Corso promised as he settled her on the narrow medbay cot. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Be right back.”

“Mmhm.” Silver forced her eyes open as he left the room, and groped for the emergency restraints on the bed. A whimper escaped when one of the straps rubbed the wound in her side, but that was better than landing on the floor when Corso took off. Hope we got enough fuel...

The vague sound of Akaavi yelling, “Go!” reached her, followed by the shift of Angel’s engines ratcheting up, and Silver finally let the darkness win.

>>.<<

The engines had settled into the steady background drone of hyperspace when she came to. The air smelled of kolto and singed flesh, causing her nose to instinctively wrinkle. “...Tell me that moof-milker’s worse off’n me.”

“That moof-milker’s worse off’n you,” Corso said obligingly. His voice was oozing with relief. “Welcome back, sweetheart. You’re not s’pposed to scare me like that, remember?”

“I seem to recall the opposite,” Silver countered, opening her eyes. “I promised to insure you never had a borin’ day again. Ikeep my promises.”

“Maybe in the future, find ways to keep ‘em that don’t involve nearly gettin’ yourself killed.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “No promises. What the frangin’ hell were they after, anyway?”

“Us, I suspect.” The quiet comment was underlaid by the hum of a diagnostic scanner.

Silver turned and saw Kel, brow drawn in a slight frown of concentration as he studied the scanner’s readout. He glanced up at her as he continued, his clipped, precise accent adding extra weight to his words. “The Empire doesn’t look kindly on deserters.”

Silver blinked at him, leveraging off Corso’s arm to try and sit up. “Either I hit my head a lot harder’n I thought, or you just said you’re Imp.”

“Former,” Kel corrected calmly, his accent noticeably less pronounced. “S- Ezi and I are defecting.”

“Doesn’t the military usually handle that? And why’re you takin’ care of me instead of Guss?”

“Only if you have some kind of valuable intel they want, and I volunteered to patch you up. I was my squad’s medic, so my knowledge in the field is slightly more extensive than your Mon Cal’s.”

“He didn’t mind, Sil,” Corso piped up. “Guss said he ain’t used to stuff bad as you got, anyway.”

“But I’m all patched up?” she probed, glancing between Corso and Kel. Her head still hurt, but everything else had faded to a dull ache.

“Sufficiently to make it to Naboo, yes,” Kel said with a nod. “But you should be more careful, Captain. And when we land you should see a doctor.You have good equipment here, but it does have its limits.”

“I’m sure I’m fine...” Silver grumbled under her breath.

“Sil. Just for a check, make sure there’s no surprises waitin’ for us down the road?” Corso said, tone cajoling.

“I’m fine.” 

“That’s what you said after Darmas gave ya a concussion,” he countered.” An’ ya weren’t. Please? For me?”

“Oh, you fight dirty, Riggs,” she huffed.

He grinned and kissed her forehead. “Learned from the best.”

>>.<<

Since there wasn’t much else to do for the rest of the trip, Silver agreed to stay in bed and let Corso handle piloting--on the condition she got to hear Kel and Ezi’s story.

They obliged on the counter-condition she got the short version. Born to a moff, raised in the heart of the Empire, patriotic and loyal as could be wished. The first cracks hadn’t appeared until a couple years into Kel’s military service, when a woman who had gone through medical certification with him defected. “They simultaneously tried to cover it up and... investigate the loyalty of any who had worked with her. That’s when I began to question.”

Unbeknownst to Kel, his sister had started doubting at nearly the same time. “I wasn’t anything special; just general infantry, but even with that limited experience, things weren’t sitting right with me; orders we were given, orders we were told to ignore... it made me wonder.” Ezi shifted in her chair. “That first time we had coinciding leave.... it took us almost three days to admit something was bothering us. I finally couldn’t stand it anymore and dragged Av- Kel somewhere private to confess. Once we both came clean, it was a matter of figuring out how to leave without implicating or tipping off our parents.”

“It took almost a year,” Kel picked up, absently cracking his knuckles. “We were kind of stuck, and stumbled across Jon-” he winced. “Jay completely by accident.”

“You two ain’t good at the name thing, are ya?” Silver said with a smile.

“Why do you think we don’t talk much?” he replied wryly. “We’ve been Avrin and Saskia our whole lives. Do you think you could just start calling someone in your family by a different name after more than two decades? Kel and Ezi haven’t been to slip into, but we’re working on it.”

“You make a very good point,” Silver conceded, rubbing the general area of the synthskin patch on her thigh. The blaster burn underneath itched something awful. “I don’t think I could swap just like that. But movin’ on with your story?”

“There isn’t much more to it,” Ezi shrugged, tuckign her hair behind her ear. “Jay works for the Republic and has some underworld connections, at least on Denon. So he got us forged identification papers and covert transportation from Ziost to Denon, where we holed up until he found someone who could get us away from there.” She gestured toward Silver. “You came along and here we are.” 

“And the bounty hunters came from where?” Silver hinted. “An’ how d’ya know they’re after you?”

“I peeked out,” Ezi said sheepishly, waving off her brother’s brewing protest even as he opened his mouth. “Once your crew was returning fire. I recognized the woman. They are--or were, rather--part of Krath’s Fangs, an elite mercenary company our father used as personal security. I don’t know how they found us, because we were positive no one knew we were on Denon.”

“However they found us, they’re dead now,” Kel said. “And we should let Captain Riggs rest, Ez.”

She nodded. “Sure. Thank you for getting us out, Captain. I’m sorry you’re paying such a price for it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Silver assured her. “I’ve had worse days.” Not by much, but I have.

Ezi didn’t really look like she believed her, but didn’t argue the point, either, instead following Kel out of the medbay.

>>.<<

They arrived on Naboo on schedule and without any evidence they were being tracked or followed. Kel and Ezi thanked Silver “and really, your whole crew” profusely one last time before leaving to met the contact who was going to help them settle in, Ezi still carrying the gizka. 

After the brother and sister were out of sight, Corso turned to Silver. “Alright, Captain, I believe you promised to go see a doctor when we landed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Silver huffed, leaning against him to keep weight off her bad leg. “There’s gotta be a lot of doctors on Naboo, though; gonna take a while to find-”

“Here.” Corso grinned as he held out a datapad. “Took care of it while we were en route. You’re seein’ Dr. Stella Viks in an hour.”

Silver blinked as she took the datapad. “You-”

“-were expectin’ you to worm out of it, yes.” He was still grinning, damn him. He knew her entirely too well. “I worry about you, Sil, an’ wanna be sure you’re okay.”

“Well, I guess I can appreciate that,” she conceded with false reluctance. “Come with me?”

“Course.” He tugged gently on her ponytail. “Love ya.”

“Love you, to.”

>>.<<

Dr. Viks’ office was professional and neat--enough so to make Silver fidgety. She felt as if disturbing anything could quite possibly get her arrested or something. Irrational, yeah, but she couldn’t help it. It was a relief when her name was finally called and she headed back to one of the exam rooms, Corso firmly in tow. She wanted to say she wanted him there so when the doctor confirmed she was fine, it would be that much easier to rub in his face, but there was a nervous twist in her gut that belied the thought.

Dr. Viks was waiting when they reached the room. “Ms. Riggs?”

“Captain,” Silver corrected automatically, then winced apologetically. “Sorry, habit.”

“That’s alright,” Dr. Viks assured her, gesturing for them to take a seat. “There isn’t much here.” She set down the datapad she’d been reading. “If you prefer Captain, then Captain it is.  What’s the reason for your visit today?”

“We got in a bit of a shootout with some no-goods who were after our cargo at our last stop, an’ my husband wanted me to get checked over by a doctor. Make sure the patchin’ up I got was good enough,” Silver explained, squeezing Corso’s hand.

“Smart man,” Dr. Viks said with a smile. “What injuries do you sustain in this shootout?” She turned on and started calibrating a fancy-looking scanner as she listened to Silver’s reply.

The redhead paused for a beat before reeling off, “They winged m’ shoulder, got me good in the side an’ leg, and I banged my head pretty hard when I hit the ground.”

“Noted,” Dr. Viks nodded, and began her examination, a combination of using the scanner and physically checking the injuries Silver had mentioned. “Whoever patched you up did a good job,” she commented. “They must’ve had some training.”

“Former army medic,” Silver said, biting her lip as the doctor’s fingers ran over the goose egg above her ear.

“That would explain it.” The scanner beeped and Dr. Viks examined the screen. “Alright. Everything looks fine... there are the injuries you mentioned, but they’re all healing nicely. The bump on your head is the extent of it; there’s no deeper issues there.”

“Then what’s with the feelin’ sick and losin’ her balance?” Corso asked. “I mean, there was a little after Hutta, but y’know, Hutta’ll do that to ya. It’s been worse the past couple days, so I thought for sure it had to do with the bump on her head.”

Silver huffed. You’re being overprotective again. “I told you that’s nothin’ hon. Hutta swamp water an’ Guss’ cookin’- what?”

Dr. Viks was looking at her in amused surpprise, gaze flicking to the scanner screen as she formed her next sentence. “You didn’t know you’re pregnant, Captain?”

Silver and Corso’s hands tightened on each other til their knuckles were white, Silver’s free hand instinctively pressed against her stomach. She blinked at the doctor, trying to process, to breathe.” I... did not. How... How far along...?”

“About ten weeks, from the look of things,” Dr. Viks replied. “This isn’t really my area of expertise. I can take care of some basics, since you’re here, but you really should find a doctor who specializes in obstetrics. I can give you some names on Naboo, if you like, or you can use the holonet to find one on your home planet, if you prefer.”

“We’ll do the latter, I guess,” Silver mumbled, still shellshocked in the best possible way. “But if you could tell us if it’s healthy....” I was pregnant on Corellia. The utter chaos of her war-zone exploits flashed through her mind and she very nearly panicked.  “Make sure I haven’t screwed it up?”

Dr. Viks chuckled and nodded. “Of course.”

As the doctor adjusted settings on the scanner, Silver finally turned to look at Corso. His expression was mix of looking like someone had smacked him in the gut with a power prybar and pure, unbridled joy.

She cleared her throat. “So, I’m guessin’ this is okay with you?”

Corso opened his mouth and tried to start a sentence twice with no sound coming out before giving up. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her soundly instead. When he finally pulled  back to put the barest distance between them, he whispered hoarsely, “What do you think?”

Silver smiled and brushed his cheek with her thumb. “I think you’re gonna be a great dad. And if you smile any wider, you’re gonna rip your face in half.”

He chuckled as they both sat back. “Can’t have that.” He reached over and rested a hand on Silver’s belly. “Gotta be there for my kid.”

Once Dr. Viks had the scanner properly adjusted, it didn’t take long to confirm that the baby was perfectly fine--a minor miracle, far as Silver was concerned.  “Do you want to know girl or boy?” Dr. Viks asked.

Silver looked at Corso, saw matching uncertainty in his eyes, and shook her head. “Not right now. We can’t unlearn it once we know, so we should prob’ly be sure first?”

“I understand completely,” Dr. Viks assured her, powering down the scanner. “Unless you have any more questions for me, I think we’re all done.”

“Nope, I’m good.” Silver slid her hand into Corso’s and gave it a squeeze. “’Sides, we have a lot to talk about. Thank you for all your help, Doctor.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Viks said with a smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Silver said, slightly dazed as reality started sinking in, but still unable to stop grinning.

>>.<<  

They spent the entire trip back to the Angel in silence, and didn’t say a word until they were back in their cabin.

“So...” Silver began. “You’re really okay with this?”

“Hell, yes,” Corso said fervently, pulling her into a hug. “Sil, you know how bad I want kids.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know if you wanted ‘em now or down the road a little,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He kissed the top of her head and moved them to sit on the edge of their bed. “I wanted ‘em when we got ‘em. Trust me, darlin’, I’m ecstatic. Is this... are you okay with this? You’re gonna be doin’ all the work.”

Silver laughed giddily. “Kriff, yeah. I love you, and any kids we have are gonna be so frangin’ awesome.” She paused for a second, rubbed one hand over her abdomen. “Guess I have to avoid runnin’ gun battles now, huh?”

“Yeah, I think it’s best to avoid shoot-outs of all kinds while pregnant,” Corso chuckled, kissing her forehead.

She grinned giddily again. “I’m pregnant. We’re gonna have a baby.” She gasped and shot to her feet. “I gotta call Tel! And my parents-” Her expression sobered. “D’you... wanna tell Rona? I know you two’re mendin’ fences...”

“Not sure if we’re there yet,” Corso admitted, squeezing her hand. “Go call your family, though. They’re gonna be so happy.”

She bent down for another kiss, her grin back when she straightened. “Tel getsta be an uncle. He’s gonna kriffin’ flip.” She paused on the way out of the room.  “You can tell the rest of the crew while I tell him. If you want?”

Corso grinned as he stood. “Deal.”

That settled, Silver limped toward the cockpit to call her brother. Sure, this was going to change everything, but in the best way possible.

She couldn’t wait.

[arplis]

Arplis - News: The year was 1995, and I was watching television

Frasier, to be specific, whose placement in the NBC “Must See TV Tuesday” lineup my family took literally. This was event viewing in the Michelman household, and my tweenage brain soaked it up like a sponge: the fashion, the erudition, the many glasses of sherry. One moment stands out above all else, wherein the audience is given a brief glimpse inside the Crane family refrigerator, which is revealed to be stocked to the brim with glowing blue glass bottles of mineral water imported from the United Kingdom. In the context of the show, this was just another item—like the Macclesfield ties, Joan & David loafers and Frasier’s apartment itself—meant to symbolize wealth and class. I discussed the topic with my mother; she told me that the water on Frasier was very expensive, and that in this family we drank water from the spigot on the fridge door. “Imagine paying money for water,” I remember thinking. Today, I wish we’d bought stock in La Croix. Bottled water of a clear, identifiable origin has long been popular in Europe, where the history of drinking site-specific mineralized water dates back thousands of years. But here in America, mineral water has baggage. I believe I speak for many readers when I describe first encountering mineral water as a totem of yuppie excess vis-à-vis late 20th-century movies and television, obsessed over by the likes of Patrick Bateman (he drinks Ramlösa and Apollinaris) and the aforementioned Frasier Crane (those iconic blue teardrop bottles of Tŷ Nant, from Wales). This identity wholly disconnects mineral water in the U.S. from its curative, egalitarian image abroad. It’s a status symbol, something rich people drink as a class flex: the little bottle of San Pellegrino, same as what they sell at the grocery store across the street, marked up to $12 at a restaurant catering to assholes. Frasier may be relegated to the great rerun loop of history, but today’s outlook for mineral water in America is evolving quickly, and there are merchants for the cause. One of them is a guy out of Fort Lauderdale named Brett Spitalny. With his company, Aqua Maestro, Spitalny has, since 2002, overseen a portfolio of imported bottled water. And that’s all he sells, offering about 30 different fine waters from around the world (including Borsec from Romania, Fiuggi from Italy, and yes, Frasier’s beloved Tŷ Nant), selling to a collection of retail and wholesale clients around the country and providing water education along the way to high-end hotels and restaurants. “What’s coming from the source is what you find in the bottle,” he says. “It’s not adulterated, and it hasn’t been purified or filtered or messed with.” The sentiment might be familiar to anyone who’s set foot in a natural wine bar. Aqua Maestro’s portfolio includes some recognizable brands, including Fiji and Voss, as well as deeply obscure bottles like Iskilde, a highly oxygenated still water from Denmark that “comes out of the ground looking like milk.” “Imagine paying money for water,” I remember thinking. Today, I wish we’d bought stock in La Croix. Ashley Epperson of Salacious Drinks, a Washington D.C.–based distributor and direct seller of mineral waters, looks at the seltzer boom as a pump primer for the U.S. market. “As far as Americans are concerned, we are way behind the times,” she tells me. “If you go to Japan, Europe, Australia, even Canada, they have huge water markets. But we are so used to the idea of free water, or buying purified tap water in a bottle. Most people don’t know what fine water tastes like.” In this way, a brand like Salacious Drinks caters to people who have had their interest piqued by seltzer, and are ready to learn more about the world of fine water. “We love someone saying, ‘Oh, I like La Croix’ because that means when we sit down and do a fine water tasting, they are going to say ‘Ohhhh…’” If mineral water is a beverage primed for growth in the American market, its punky cousin seltzer is surely to thank. The year 2019 was the year seltzer peaked: The stuff is everywhere, filling entire aisles at your local Target and spanning the spectrum of popular culture, from New York Times think pieces to Coachella activations to junk science finger wagging. La Croix in particular has been embraced by the extremely online millennial work force (especially in media), showing up in desk office candids and work fridge tableaus. There’s even a secret Facebook group for devotees of seltzer, profiled by everyone from The Spoon to The Guardian. (I’m a longtime member.) My own avid consumption of La Croix, which is just filtered tap water that’s been force-carbonated and flavored, had become reflexive, habitual, desultory—a drink to drink when I didn’t feel like using my brain, the water equivalent of ordering a Starbucks coffee. By contrast, Borjomi, a Georgian water I credit for thrusting me down this rabbit hole, tastes as if it were beamed in from another consciousness entirely. It is creamy, lush, with just a touch of finessed funk, like a beautiful raw milk cheese, or a piece of foie gras, or a glass of farmhouse saison (minus the hops and malt). I found myself (quelle horreur) skipping past the wine section and forgoing the beer at World Foods—the excellent specialty food and beverage market near where I live in Portland, Oregon—in favor of more Borjomi, and eventually, other delicious waters from around the world: Antipodes of New Zealand, Jermuk of Armenia, Llanllyr Source of Wales, and Essentuki of southern Russia, not far from the border with Georgia. The seltzer boom (and likely impending bust) has opened a door for us to reconsider what mineral water is, and who it should be for. If brands like Polar and La Croix (and yes, even White Claw) have helped unmoor fizzy water from its wealth-and-privilege trappings in America, then I say bully; after all, La Croix is owned by the same company that makes Faygo, the beloved soda of the ’90s horror-rap crew Insane Clown Posse. How bourgeois could it really be? In the pantheon of affordable luxuries, mineral water has few peers—a .75 liter bottle of Borjomi, the utterly delicious, naturally sparkling mineral water of the nation of Georgia, costs somewhere between $1.99 and $3.99, depending on where you’re purchasing. Turns out this was just scratching the surface. The well for water appreciation runs deep, and all aqueducts lead to the work of the world’s leading authorities on mineral water: Martin Riese and Michael Mascha, who together run Los Angeles’ Fine Water Academy, bestowers of the official Water Sommelier Certification. Germany native Riese first gained fame in this country for his work with the Patina Restaurant Group, whose properties across the United States include multiple operations at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) and in New York’s Lincoln Center, Rockefeller Center and Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Riese’s water menu for Patina is the stuff of legend, helping land him everywhere from The New York Times to Conan. “People started to come to [LACMA] just for the water menu and try the different waters and taste the differences between them,” Riese tells me. “I was a little surprised and almost scared.” Mascha, meanwhile, runs FineWaters.com, an international clearinghouse for water information and advocacy, and a compendium of bottled water brands large and small. A former professor at USC, Mascha came to water as an alternative to alcohol following a serious health diagnosis. “My cardiologist told me I could live, or drink alcohol, but not both,” he says. “Naturally, I made the decision to stop drinking, but by removing one bottle from the table I began to focus on another.” If mineral water is a beverage primed for growth in the American market, its punky cousin seltzer is surely to thank. Key to the duo’s methodology is understanding the differences among individual water sites. Not unlike wine, tea or coffee, water is a product of its place of harvest—in this case, different sites around the world through which rainwater is naturally filtered. Each mountain range and hillside has its own geological calling card, with a noticeable impact on a given water’s flavor and mouthfeel. Different waters vary in chemical composition, which is why the water bottled as Lurisia (from the Italian Alps) tastes vastly different from the water bottled as Borsec (from the Carpathian Mountains of Romania). Riese and Mascha discuss this in terms of total dissolved solids, or TDS, a phrase well-known by espresso geeks—low-TDS waters have an almost drying effect, while high-TDS waters taste rich and smooth, even sometimes a touch swampy (in a good way). On his website FineWaters, Mascha categorizes a range of mineral waters from “super low” (0-50 mg/L) to “very high” (1500+ mg/L). By this categorization, the 2,210 milligramsTDS on my beloved Borjomi is incredibly high—more than four times higher than Perrier, for example. It makes sense that this would be the water that hooked me. In specialty coffee, a topic I’ve written about extensively, it’s common for new acolytes to have a “light switch moment” with coffees that explore wild expanses of the flavor spectrum: Think wild-fermented and genetically diverse “natural-processed” coffees from Ethiopia, or highly prized and rightly expensive Gesha variety coffees from Panama. Same thing in wine, where young drinkers have gravitated in droves to the electric Technicolor “natural” wines of boundary-pushing makers like Anders Frederik Steen, Furlani and Cornelissen. These experiences fall on the extreme end of the product spectrum, and that’s why they hook new drinkers: The journey to “aha!” upends the preconceived notion of what coffee or wine should be, redrawing its culinary and cultural application. Same with Borjomi, an extremely mineralized water that led me to explore a world of flavor experiences—some more subtle, some even more extreme (say hey, Essentuki #4). “We’re seeing a wave of adoption where people realize that water is not just water,” says Mascha. “They get hooked for whatever reason, and then they realize that water has terroir, it comes from a place, it has flavor, and it can be integrated into epicurean ways like wine.” Ladies and gentlemen, it me. I was first suckered in by flavored filtered tap (La Croix), then had my mind blown by the outer edges of the mineral spectrum (Borjomi). It’s roughly the trajectory a wine drinker undertakes, from nipped high school Boone’s Farm to Jura savagnin sous voile, with a land of exploration and subtlety to discover in between. (Burgundy, if you’re paying.) Riese and Mascha advocate seeking out different styles and weights of water for different meal pairings and experiences: Cantonese suckling pork with Cana Royal water from Slovenia, or smoked fish roe with a low-TDS Swedish glacier water, which Mascha describes as tasting “like you’re in the middle of nature, and it’s raining and you open your mouth.” And in our conversations, each encouraged me to explore offerings across the minerality scale, like the soft, low-TDS waters of Svalbardi, Lofoten and Lurisia, or the complex, naturally sparkling waters of Vichy Catalan, Pedras and Ecuador’s Guitig. Unlike so much of today’s zen koan cacophony of wellness trend buzz, mineral water is certifiably good for you, something czars and soldiers and doctors in Europe have known for centuries (to say nothing of the older regulars at the 127-year-old Russian & Turkish Baths in New York’s East Village, swigging huge plastic bottles of Narzan). Mineral water is culinary, yes, but it’s also elemental in a profoundly satisfying way—an organism consuming the most delicious and interesting version of something it needs to live. “Like with wine, like with coffee, it’s not about finding what’s best,” says Mascha. These days he’s expanding the role of water to its place beyond the glass, working with cocktail bars to develop custom ice and chocolatiers seeking the perfect water to blend into chocolate bars. This feels like a natural expansion of the implied conclusion, which is that by re-evaluating the identity and flavor and history of the water we drink, we can then extend this new consideration into water’s role in the wild beer we drink, the cocktail ice we stir and shake with, the sip of water we take to realign our palates between the bites and bottles of everything else we love. “These waters come from a real place, from a real source with a cultural identity attached,” says Mascha. “They mean something.” The post Seltzer Is Over. Mineral Water Is Forever. appeared first on PUNCH. #LaCroix #MineralWater

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/the-year-was-1995-and-i-was-watching-television

[truckergurlz2019-blog]

Experimenting in the Kitchen

Hello (raises my glass bottle of sparkling Voss), it’s me Dawn aka Hazel Eyes. Y’all it is Sunday!! That means food, I get to talk FOOD with all of you. This week I am showing off 2 recipes and 1 hint. Go Grab a drink and join me back here for 1 quick and easy and 1 Mexican dish.

Alright so we all know a little about me, but this shocker is I am 100% self taught home cook. The very first thing I want to share with you this Sunday is do not be afraid to get in that kitchen and experiment. My first experiment this week was based off some pork stew meat, a package of Spanish rice, and a jar of tomatillo mild salsa. 

Doesn’t it look good! It was super easy as well. The rice I used was from Full Cart and needed 25 min to cook so I started that. Then in a pot I dumped the entire jar of salsa and a little over 1 pound of pork stew meat. Turned my stove onto the mark below medium (just 1 below) threw on a lid. I wanted it to cook slow and marinate. Now this entire jar would easily cook 2 pounds. I stirred both the pork and the rice in that 25 minutes. When it was over I tasted the rice (crunch city) don’t be ashamed to mess up.

With rice add more water ½ cup at a time and cook till gone and check again. My pork was done at about 30 min. And my rice was great after that little more water. I added more butter and some salt for taste. Served the pork and salsa over the rice. Please feel free to add roasted corn along side or in the salsa. (don’t lick the screen).

This started as an oh crap I thawed nothing for dinner and do not feel like cooking anyhow recipe. (show of hands who has been there?) But you know what they say do not underestimate a woman with a crock pot and a can of cream of mushroom. But… *dramatic music* I have a pressure cooker and dinner was in 30min. Mushrooms and beef are great so I grabbed the frozen hamburger patties out of the freezer (the ones I had were the Walmart brand in the orange tube packing). I turned my cooker onto cook, mixed 1 small can of soup, 1 can of almond milk (use any milk), season salt, garlic, and Tony Catchetorie to taste. I like spice if you don’t omit the spice. When that mixture was amazing and a tad salty to also salt the beef I added in the frozen patties I made 5. Set the timer to 15min. I decided on stuffing to eat with it. 

When the pressure cooker got to pressure ad began cooking I started my water for the stuffing. *Pro tip* add fresh garlic cloves to the water let it infuse the water and butter. Dump in stuffing mix let stand 5 min. My son wanted canned tomatoes for dinner as well so no veggie was pictured. Let the steam off when the time is up take out the meat, turn it to brown to keep it bubbling. Add in 2 spoons of corn startch mixed in a little water and thicken the sauce you made. Now serve over the stuffing. Now my son the picky eater who “doesn’t eat gravy patties” ate his on bread and loved it. This meal was a literal experiment.

I say that to say my tip for the week is EXPERIMENT… We all know what flavors go together to an extent. You want to make a broth or soup, season your water first once that tastes good and a little leaning towards heavy add your meat or veggie or both. You want to make something using a can of broth or cream of something? Start with it add seasonings you have on hand and that you like and once it tastes good add your other components. Stop being scared. Guess what happens if you mess up? 9 times out of 10 its edible just not good. And if its not edible there is pizza. The biggest thing I hear from people is I cannot cook without a recipe, yes you can!! So please for this week go to your freezer and cabinet get a few items and experiment. If you are really stumped I will push you in the right direction if you reach out.

Good luck and until next time

Hazel Eyes 

[arplis]

Arplis - News: The year was 1995, and I was watching television

Frasier, to be specific, whose placement in the NBC “Must See TV Tuesday” lineup my family took literally. This was event viewing in the Michelman household, and my tweenage brain soaked it up like a sponge: the fashion, the erudition, the many glasses of sherry. One moment stands out above all else, wherein the audience is given a brief glimpse inside the Crane family refrigerator, which is revealed to be stocked to the brim with glowing blue glass bottles of mineral water imported from the United Kingdom. In the context of the show, this was just another item—like the Macclesfield ties, Joan & David loafers and Frasier’s apartment itself—meant to symbolize wealth and class. I discussed the topic with my mother; she told me that the water on Frasier was very expensive, and that in this family we drank water from the spigot on the fridge door. “Imagine paying money for water,” I remember thinking. Today, I wish we’d bought stock in La Croix. Bottled water of a clear, identifiable origin has long been popular in Europe, where the history of drinking site-specific mineralized water dates back thousands of years. But here in America, mineral water has baggage. I believe I speak for many readers when I describe first encountering mineral water as a totem of yuppie excess vis-à-vis late 20th-century movies and television, obsessed over by the likes of Patrick Bateman (he drinks Ramlösa and Apollinaris) and the aforementioned Frasier Crane (those iconic blue teardrop bottles of Tŷ Nant, from Wales). This identity wholly disconnects mineral water in the U.S. from its curative, egalitarian image abroad. It’s a status symbol, something rich people drink as a class flex: the little bottle of San Pellegrino, same as what they sell at the grocery store across the street, marked up to $12 at a restaurant catering to assholes. Frasier may be relegated to the great rerun loop of history, but today’s outlook for mineral water in America is evolving quickly, and there are merchants for the cause. One of them is a guy out of Fort Lauderdale named Brett Spitalny. With his company, Aqua Maestro, Spitalny has, since 2002, overseen a portfolio of imported bottled water. And that’s all he sells, offering about 30 different fine waters from around the world (including Borsec from Romania, Fiuggi from Italy, and yes, Frasier’s beloved Tŷ Nant), selling to a collection of retail and wholesale clients around the country and providing water education along the way to high-end hotels and restaurants. “What’s coming from the source is what you find in the bottle,” he says. “It’s not adulterated, and it hasn’t been purified or filtered or messed with.” The sentiment might be familiar to anyone who’s set foot in a natural wine bar. Aqua Maestro’s portfolio includes some recognizable brands, including Fiji and Voss, as well as deeply obscure bottles like Iskilde, a highly oxygenated still water from Denmark that “comes out of the ground looking like milk.” “Imagine paying money for water,” I remember thinking. Today, I wish we’d bought stock in La Croix. Ashley Epperson of Salacious Drinks, a Washington D.C.–based distributor and direct seller of mineral waters, looks at the seltzer boom as a pump primer for the U.S. market. “As far as Americans are concerned, we are way behind the times,” she tells me. “If you go to Japan, Europe, Australia, even Canada, they have huge water markets. But we are so used to the idea of free water, or buying purified tap water in a bottle. Most people don’t know what fine water tastes like.” In this way, a brand like Salacious Drinks caters to people who have had their interest piqued by seltzer, and are ready to learn more about the world of fine water. “We love someone saying, ‘Oh, I like La Croix’ because that means when we sit down and do a fine water tasting, they are going to say ‘Ohhhh…’” If mineral water is a beverage primed for growth in the American market, its punky cousin seltzer is surely to thank. The year 2019 was the year seltzer peaked: The stuff is everywhere, filling entire aisles at your local Target and spanning the spectrum of popular culture, from New York Times think pieces to Coachella activations to junk science finger wagging. La Croix in particular has been embraced by the extremely online millennial work force (especially in media), showing up in desk office candids and work fridge tableaus. There’s even a secret Facebook group for devotees of seltzer, profiled by everyone from The Spoon to The Guardian. (I’m a longtime member.) My own avid consumption of La Croix, which is just filtered tap water that’s been force-carbonated and flavored, had become reflexive, habitual, desultory—a drink to drink when I didn’t feel like using my brain, the water equivalent of ordering a Starbucks coffee. By contrast, Borjomi, a Georgian water I credit for thrusting me down this rabbit hole, tastes as if it were beamed in from another consciousness entirely. It is creamy, lush, with just a touch of finessed funk, like a beautiful raw milk cheese, or a piece of foie gras, or a glass of farmhouse saison (minus the hops and malt). I found myself (quelle horreur) skipping past the wine section and forgoing the beer at World Foods—the excellent specialty food and beverage market near where I live in Portland, Oregon—in favor of more Borjomi, and eventually, other delicious waters from around the world: Antipodes of New Zealand, Jermuk of Armenia, Llanllyr Source of Wales, and Essentuki of southern Russia, not far from the border with Georgia. The seltzer boom (and likely impending bust) has opened a door for us to reconsider what mineral water is, and who it should be for. If brands like Polar and La Croix (and yes, even White Claw) have helped unmoor fizzy water from its wealth-and-privilege trappings in America, then I say bully; after all, La Croix is owned by the same company that makes Faygo, the beloved soda of the ’90s horror-rap crew Insane Clown Posse. How bourgeois could it really be? In the pantheon of affordable luxuries, mineral water has few peers—a .75 liter bottle of Borjomi, the utterly delicious, naturally sparkling mineral water of the nation of Georgia, costs somewhere between $1.99 and $3.99, depending on where you’re purchasing. Turns out this was just scratching the surface. The well for water appreciation runs deep, and all aqueducts lead to the work of the world’s leading authorities on mineral water: Martin Riese and Michael Mascha, who together run Los Angeles’ Fine Water Academy, bestowers of the official Water Sommelier Certification. Germany native Riese first gained fame in this country for his work with the Patina Restaurant Group, whose properties across the United States include multiple operations at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) and in New York’s Lincoln Center, Rockefeller Center and Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Riese’s water menu for Patina is the stuff of legend, helping land him everywhere from The New York Times to Conan. “People started to come to [LACMA] just for the water menu and try the different waters and taste the differences between them,” Riese tells me. “I was a little surprised and almost scared.” Mascha, meanwhile, runs FineWaters.com, an international clearinghouse for water information and advocacy, and a compendium of bottled water brands large and small. A former professor at USC, Mascha came to water as an alternative to alcohol following a serious health diagnosis. “My cardiologist told me I could live, or drink alcohol, but not both,” he says. “Naturally, I made the decision to stop drinking, but by removing one bottle from the table I began to focus on another.” If mineral water is a beverage primed for growth in the American market, its punky cousin seltzer is surely to thank. Key to the duo’s methodology is understanding the differences among individual water sites. Not unlike wine, tea or coffee, water is a product of its place of harvest—in this case, different sites around the world through which rainwater is naturally filtered. Each mountain range and hillside has its own geological calling card, with a noticeable impact on a given water’s flavor and mouthfeel. Different waters vary in chemical composition, which is why the water bottled as Lurisia (from the Italian Alps) tastes vastly different from the water bottled as Borsec (from the Carpathian Mountains of Romania). Riese and Mascha discuss this in terms of total dissolved solids, or TDS, a phrase well-known by espresso geeks—low-TDS waters have an almost drying effect, while high-TDS waters taste rich and smooth, even sometimes a touch swampy (in a good way). On his website FineWaters, Mascha categorizes a range of mineral waters from “super low” (0-50 mg/L) to “very high” (1500+ mg/L). By this categorization, the 2,210 milligramsTDS on my beloved Borjomi is incredibly high—more than four times higher than Perrier, for example. It makes sense that this would be the water that hooked me. In specialty coffee, a topic I’ve written about extensively, it’s common for new acolytes to have a “light switch moment” with coffees that explore wild expanses of the flavor spectrum: Think wild-fermented and genetically diverse “natural-processed” coffees from Ethiopia, or highly prized and rightly expensive Gesha variety coffees from Panama. Same thing in wine, where young drinkers have gravitated in droves to the electric Technicolor “natural” wines of boundary-pushing makers like Anders Frederik Steen, Furlani and Cornelissen. These experiences fall on the extreme end of the product spectrum, and that’s why they hook new drinkers: The journey to “aha!” upends the preconceived notion of what coffee or wine should be, redrawing its culinary and cultural application. Same with Borjomi, an extremely mineralized water that led me to explore a world of flavor experiences—some more subtle, some even more extreme (say hey, Essentuki #4). “We’re seeing a wave of adoption where people realize that water is not just water,” says Mascha. “They get hooked for whatever reason, and then they realize that water has terroir, it comes from a place, it has flavor, and it can be integrated into epicurean ways like wine.” Ladies and gentlemen, it me. I was first suckered in by flavored filtered tap (La Croix), then had my mind blown by the outer edges of the mineral spectrum (Borjomi). It’s roughly the trajectory a wine drinker undertakes, from nipped high school Boone’s Farm to Jura savagnin sous voile, with a land of exploration and subtlety to discover in between. (Burgundy, if you’re paying.) Riese and Mascha advocate seeking out different styles and weights of water for different meal pairings and experiences: Cantonese suckling pork with Cana Royal water from Slovenia, or smoked fish roe with a low-TDS Swedish glacier water, which Mascha describes as tasting “like you’re in the middle of nature, and it’s raining and you open your mouth.” And in our conversations, each encouraged me to explore offerings across the minerality scale, like the soft, low-TDS waters of Svalbardi, Lofoten and Lurisia, or the complex, naturally sparkling waters of Vichy Catalan, Pedras and Ecuador’s Guitig. Unlike so much of today’s zen koan cacophony of wellness trend buzz, mineral water is certifiably good for you, something czars and soldiers and doctors in Europe have known for centuries (to say nothing of the older regulars at the 127-year-old Russian & Turkish Baths in New York’s East Village, swigging huge plastic bottles of Narzan). Mineral water is culinary, yes, but it’s also elemental in a profoundly satisfying way—an organism consuming the most delicious and interesting version of something it needs to live. “Like with wine, like with coffee, it’s not about finding what’s best,” says Mascha. These days he’s expanding the role of water to its place beyond the glass, working with cocktail bars to develop custom ice and chocolatiers seeking the perfect water to blend into chocolate bars. This feels like a natural expansion of the implied conclusion, which is that by re-evaluating the identity and flavor and history of the water we drink, we can then extend this new consideration into water’s role in the wild beer we drink, the cocktail ice we stir and shake with, the sip of water we take to realign our palates between the bites and bottles of everything else we love. “These waters come from a real place, from a real source with a cultural identity attached,” says Mascha. “They mean something.” The post Seltzer Is Over. Mineral Water Is Forever. appeared first on PUNCH. #LaCroix #MineralWater

Arplis - News source http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Arplis-News/~3/G7qKKgMC55Q/the-year-was-1995-and-i-was-watching-television