#selling aviator sunglasses

[ereardon]

At Sea [Bob Floyd x Reader]

Chapter 2

Overview: I’ll be home in five weeks. That’s what naval aviator Y/N told her fiance before leaving for deployment in the Atlantic. But time ceased to stop when she met Bob Floyd, the ship surgeon. Shy and honest, Bob quietly slipped into Y/N’s life, creating a complicated dynamic on an already intense mission. Falling for Bob was not in Y/N’s plan, and as she continues to weave a web of lies, she must make a choice: return to the life she left on land, or forge ahead into the unknown with Bob. But before Y/N can decide, disaster strikes, leaving Bob to make the decision that will alter their lives forever. 

Chapter summary: Y/N and Bob have their first heart-to-heart; Y/N reminiscences on how she met her fiance

Pairing: Navy Doctor Bob Floyd x Female Aviator Reader

Warnings: Implied emotional cheating, lots of Naval inaccuracies

WC: 2.5K

Masterlist here

In the air, everything else gets stripped away. Fears, concerns, chores, anxieties, conversations. They all stay on the ground. 

Or in this case, on the deck. 

When you’re in the cockpit, your brain splits in two. One half shuts down – the half that controls emotions, everyday life. The other half, the aviator half, roars to life. It’s the part of you that instinctively knows when to dive or call for backup, when to evade, when to approach. That part works practically autonomously. 

The first time you sat in a cockpit, it was an extension of yourself. 

The jet dipped low, the ship just ahead. A quick flight, in and out on a search and rescue that yielded negative results. You jumped out of the seat onto the waiting ladder, pulling off your helmet. The late September wind whipped at your face as you shrugged on a pair of sunglasses and looked up toward the other incoming jets. Daiquiri and Johnson landed a few seconds later, the drop of the jet onto the runway causing a thump in your chest. 

“See you in the ready in ten,” you called out to Chevy, your backseater. He waved his hand in acknowledgement and you jogged out toward the cabin door, quickly descending down two decks. As you rounded a corner, helmet still in hand, you smacked into someone. 

Bob had his arms outstretched in apology before he could even see who he collided with. 

He was wearing navy colored coveralls and carrying a small clipboard, glasses seated low on his nose bridge. 

“Y/N,” he said, surprise lacing his features. 

“Hey you.” You looked to your left down an empty hall, tilting your head and beckoning him to follow you into the darkened hallway. The two of you turned the corner out of the main walkway. “What are you doing?” 

He raised the clipboard. “Filling out patient intakes and supply forms.” 

“Spicy.” He laughed. 

“Did you just get off of a flight?” 

You nodded. “Search and rescue that got called early.” 

Bob’s eyes roamed over you, slowly. “It’s weird to see you in uniform.” 

You frowned. “Weird?” 

He shook his head vigorously, a small blush creeping up his neck. “Not weird, sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I just mean, I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that you’re an aviator. It’s really impressive.” 

“I guess. I don’t really think about it too much.” 

“It’s not every day that you meet a beautiful aviator.” 

This time, you blushed. “You obviously don’t get enough deployments, sir. We’re crawling all over this ship.” 

He laughed and stepped closer, reaching out and touching the collar of your flight suit between his thumb and index finger. As Bob rubbed the fabric slowly, you felt your breath turn choppy at his proximity. “I think you’re selling yourself short.” 

You opened your mouth to respond when the thunder of footsteps crashed down the main hall. You and Bob broke apart like magnet poles. A few aviators stormed past, laughing, not noticing the two of you in the darkened hallway. “I have to go,” you whispered. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight.” 

Bob’s eyes twinkled as you turned, falling into step with the other aviators. 

***

You and Connor met at a museum opening your friend Sally had dragged you to. While standing in the corner, nursing a glass of wine as Sally pressed her chest against some stranger’s arm, Connor appeared at your side in an almost magnetic way. He was extremely tall with dark hair and tawny skin and the widest brown eyes you had ever seen. 

“Are you a fan?” he asked, motioning at the painting you were lingering in front of. 

You tipped your head, pretending to be an expert, before letting out a little caught. “Would you judge me if I said I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between this and something from the Goodwill bin?” 

He laughed. It was throaty, catching at the end, and reached out one strong hand that slid into yours perfectly. “Connor Bennett.” 

You told him your name. “Anyways, I should probably get back to my friend.” You whipped around but Sally was nowhere to be found.

Connor hadn’t let go of your hand. “At least let me show you one thing that doesn’t look like a donation item.” Before you could refuse, he was walking you confidently toward a lifesize painting on the far back wall. 

“This is an O’Keeffe,” he said. Your eyes rolled across the canvas. Soft swoops of vivid colors. It was pretty, but nothing to write home about. 

Instead, you lifted your eyes to Connor. He was mesmerized. His eyes were soaking up the canvas, drinking it all in, and you found yourself turning back to the painting, trying to see what he saw. The first time around you had missed the delicate but deliberate blue from one color to the next. How sensual the lines were. How confident. 

“So what do you think?” You liked that he gave you enough time to develop a thought without interruption. Most men couldn’t stand even a millisecond of silence. They wanted to be the smartest in the room. And if they weren’t the smartest, then the loudest. Connor was comfortable simply letting thoughts fill the empty space. 

You smiled up at him. “I’m a fan.” 

The two of you went on your official first date a week later, and you slept with him that night. At twenty five, you wanted to know what you were getting into. He was tender, but dominant. He stayed the night, even though he hadn’t asked. It had been years since you had let someone break that barrier. 

Later, you found out he was a curator for the museum. He worked normal hours and grew up in a two-parent household, went to Yale and was in a fraternity. He had an insanely good memory and could recite every Lords of the Rings movie on command. 

A talent that was not often used. 

Being with Connor was easy enough, in the way that other relationships never had been. So the day he proposed, you said yes. It wasn’t that you couldn’t picture a future without him. 

It was that he was the only person who had ever made you think that maybe a future with them wouldn’t be so bad. 

***

When, for the first night in almost a week, you got caught up writing reports and didn’t make it to the deck after hours, you wondered if Bob even noticed. 

How was it possible that the two of you had settled into a quiet routine in the span of only a week without ever acknowledging it outright? 

But every night, without fail, he showed. You met on the deck long after the sun had plunged into the horizon. Bob snuck out a thermos of coffee and the two of you would sit and talk long into the night. He was shy and unassuming, with a clear and keen eye for his surroundings. He chose his words carefully, often mulling things silently in his head before breathing life into words. 

He folded used tissues into near squares, loved James bond movies, his favorite candy flavor was lemon and he had a cat named Whiskey growing up. 

In turn, you told him about yourself. How your favorite feeling is coming in from a day at the beach, drinking a cocktail and getting ready for dinner after a shower. How when you were five, you tried to feed the ants that swarmed the cracks of the driveway with leftover birthday candy, almost giving your father an aneurism. 

Somehow, Bob’s fingertips landed on your leg, eliciting goosebumps as you told him about the day your childhood best friend and her family flipped their sailboat in the lake and how you and your parents were the first ones to show up at the marina and watch them pull the four family members to safety.

Bob asked questions, peppering you with small prompts that made you feel like not only was he listening, he was truly hearing what you were saying. 

Who your favorite musician was. Kacey Musgraves. What your favorite meal is. Breakfast, followed closely by dessert. How old you were when you had your first kiss. Fourteen, but the first one was nineteen. Your go-to drunk snack. Cold pizza and a Diet Coke. Why you became a pilot. It’s in your blood. 

He’s good people, as your mother would say. It was clear that after spending only a handful of hours with Bob, he respected people and treated them with kindness. In your head, he opened doors for old ladies, stopped traffic to scoop up a turtle crossing the road, helped little kids find their parents in a crowded mall. 

You had yet to see a crack or flaw in his demeanor. And that terrified you. 

After the first day on the run, you stopped wearing your ring. It was a hindrance for everyday life – helping out in the dishroom, exercising, flying – and you were now more understanding of why so many people opted to forgo rings in service. 

By the time you made it on deck, it was quarter to eleven. Darkness spread as far as the eye could see, except directly beneath the flood lights. Small beacons of light in a literal sea of black. You were somewhere deep in the Atlantic, and there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind of how cold it would be if you were to fall in. 

And how quickly the waves would overtake you.

“Didn’t think you were going to make it.” 

You jumped. Bob was lingering just outside the flood light ring. 

“Jesus Chris, you scared the shit out of me.” 

He gave a shy smirk. “Sorry. You didn’t show last night, so I thought maybe you were rethinking our arrangement.” 

The thought of him waiting for you put a pit in your stomach. 

“Oh yeah? And what arrangement is that?” 

He held up the thermos. “Contraband barista and customer.” 

You chuckled and he placed a cup of coffee into your hand, lingering for a second as your fingers brushed over each other. When he pulled away, even though the cup was steaming, your fingers felt cold wrapped around the mug. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

“I’m just lucky you showed up tonight.” 

He sounded relieved. Like he really thought you wouldn’t show. Guilt clouded your mind. The good part of you, the part that volunteers at the food shelter and cuts up six pack plastic rings so fish don’t get stuck and the part of you that wore a white confirmation dress under the scorching Louisiana sun screams at the rest of you to tell him. As your bare finger taps against the mug, in the deep recesses of your mind, she screams at you that you owe him that. 

“Are you alright?” Bob leaned toward you, propping one elbow on the wall behind your seat. You tilt your head back against the wall, his arm only a few inches away. His bicep is muscular, and you know that’s carting around a truly excellent body beneath his uniform. 

“I’m fine. Why?” 

“You seem a bit off.” 

“Do you really know me well enough to say something is off?” 

Immediately, you saw he was taken aback and guilt seeped into every cell of your body. Kindness is not one of your strengths. You’ve had to bite your tongue more than once growing up in the south with the alphabet of the Navy always ready on your lips. Honesty is a philosophy you lean too hard into at times, to your detriment. And one you ignore all too often as well. 

“I’m sorry,” you added quickly. “That was rude of me.” 

Bob dropped his arm and straightened. “It’s alright. I overstepped.” 

“It’s just, I mean we’re strangers, right? Kind of. And saying something like that makes me think you see this as more than it is.” You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, hating yourself the moment the words leave your lips. You’re not sure why you say it at all. It’s sour as it exits your mouth. 

“Trust me, I am very aware of the situation, Y/N.” His voice was bone chillingly calm. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Your heart began to jog in your chest. He knew. He had spotted the ring that first day and had been pretending otherwise ever since. If anything, you were pissed at yourself. An anxious blush crept across your throat, combating the cold of the ocean wind. 

“The mission is only a few weeks,” Bob said and your pulse instantly began to even out. “You’re young and smart and absolutely beautiful. I know that if we were anywhere else, this wouldn’t be happening.” He waved one large hand in the space between your bodies. “If I had met you at a bar somewhere, you wouldn’t give me a second look. But here, on the ship, it’s a limited dating pool. It’s limited everything. I’m your default.” 

Dating pool. The elephant in the room. The whale on the ship. You weren’t imagining the electric current running between the two of you. 

You let out a sigh of relief, not even realizing that you had been holding your breath, and laid one hand on his thigh, gently. Bob looked up, the vulnerability across his button nose and pink cheeks making you flush. 

“Stop it,” you whispered lightly. You wanted to tell him the truth. That you had noticed him that very first day in the mess. That talking to him felt like talking to an old friend, but also stimulated a nerve you didn’t even know you had. That touching him felt natural. That you had waited all day, rushed through your duties, to make sure you made it to the deck on time, just hoping he would still be there. 

He glanced down at your hand. You started to feel insecure about it, but as you went to lift it, you changed your mind. 

“Y/N.” That was it. Just your name rolling off his lips in a quiet whisper that got picked up and sailed away in the cold wind. Instead of pulling away, you rubbed your thumb across the thick material of his pants a few times. Slowly. A reassurance. So without saying it, he knew. Through the silence, you hoped he read you. 

“It’s not like that, OK?” you said. He nodded. “I need you to know that you’re a choice. I’m here because I want to be. Simple as that.” 

The words hung in the air, dense like the thick fog rolling in. Bob glanced over at you, his gentle face slowly relaxing. 

You sat there in the darkness and the silence, your hand on his leg, until the coffee in your cups ran cold. Until the wind picked up so high it felt like tinnitus. Until you both realized how late it was and how tired you would be the next day. 

Until you both knew, deep down, that tomorrow would be different. That everything had changed. 

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Tagging some people who I think may like this (but feel free to message me and say you're not interested and I won't tag you going forward!): @blue-aconite @horseshoegirl @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @spinning-away @bvbfloyd @startrekfangirl2233-writes @shanimallina87 @xoxabs88xox @xomrsalliej4787xo @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @thedroneranger @callsign-magnolia @sometimesanalice @stargazer-88 @tomanybandstolove @laracrofted @iangiemae @teacupsandtopgun @palepeanutponyshoe @mrsjobarnes @desert-fern @double-j @djs8891 @gigisimsonmars @fanficfandomlove @bobfloydsbabe @katiedid-3 @katieshook02 @na-ta-sh-aa

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 2 - She Sells Sanctuary

[can also be read on AO3]

Summary: Rory meets with an arms dealer in Algeria who has inside information about a weapons deal between Iran and Russia

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, Afrikaans slang, smoking

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word Count: 2.4 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV. Author's first time writing a South African character, please excuse any mistranslations of Afrikaans slang used.

October 28, 2022 10:49 - Algiers, Algeria

The casbah was a popular tourist destination at this time of year. A plethora of bodies passed back and forth – people shopping, taking holiday snaps – civilians entirely oblivious to their surroundings as Lieutenant Rory Sinclair of the 141 moved amongst them, headed towards one of the many cafes in the center of the quarter. For the end of October, it was unseasonably warm for her tastes, feeling more like early summer before midday had even struck, yet the sky was a crisp, sharp autumnal blue with little cloud cover in the sky – that same bright powdery shade that made her think of John’s intense stare. 

It was a sad state of affairs when she’d been kept apart from him for too long on missions of her own. A not uncommon thing considering she could handle the espionage side of the work without sticking out like a dog's balls when compared to a 6’4” juggernaut in a face mask, a beefcake Scot with a mohawk, or even her own partner, a man who sported facial hair more fitting for the 1880’s and was rarely spotted without his signature boonie hat. At this point, it was just her and Gaz capable of slipping into a crowd unnoticed, and she had more experience under her belt doing so. No, instead, she had to spend the last two weeks separated from the dear Captain – who had promised her years ago that wouldn’t be the case (bloody liar) – while he was off galavanting with Gaz, chasing down AQ cells in Amsterdam.

Readjusting her dark aviator sunglasses that had begun to slip down the bridge of her nose, she scanned her surroundings, casually rolling up the sleeves of her light jacket as if she were only just starting to be affected by the heat. It was an added layer she surely didn’t need, but considering she was strapped to the nines in weapon harnesses underneath, it was a necessary evil. Brushing her hand through her hair, fighting against the breeze, she made sure to adjust her part the right way so that her earpiece stayed out of sight. Sturdy boots thumped against the old pavement stones, cobbles that were likely older than most in London at this point. There was a part of her that wished she could take the time to appreciate the scenery, relish in the history around her— instead, the job came first. 

A cigarette dangled from her lips as she strolled through the crowds, her fingers curling around it as she pulled it away to flick off the ashes, exhaling a stream of smoke from the corner of her mouth. The gun tucked in the waistband of her skinny jeans, resting against her back, was a reminder that she was here for business, the kind kept thoroughly off the books. Pretending to window shop, her mobile finally dinged with the notification of a received text message. 

Meeting’s on. He’s waiting for you. 

She dropped her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with her boot before carrying on, passing under the clotheslines draped across buildings and the fluttering material above her drying in the morning sun. 

The menthol hit of mint tea perfumed the air around her, coiling and mingling with the scent of coffee as she drew closer to the center. At one of the tables outside the cafe, two men sat under the protection of a large parasol, neither appearing as though they fit the surroundings at all. At least she attempted to be inconspicuous. Nikolai, dressed in a black leather pilot jacket and his golden chain around his neck, gave her a little nod from across the crowd. Sitting across from him was a man dressed in a navy linen suit, wrinkled with the heat, and brown leather dress shoes polished to a shine. So much for keeping their business low profile. What stood out most – besides the suit, of course – was his otherwise unkempt appearance: shaggy brown hair, mussed and wild from the wind, and a beard, patchy with stubble, that needed a trim. He was a cowboy playing gangster, and she could see it from a mile away. 

Of course this was the type of prick Nik would have contact with. Hazel eyes rolled and she sighed heavily, brushing past the others in the crowd. She was already none too pleased about this meeting, but in their line of work there was no retreating from the dubious contacts. Alas, sometimes they were the best sources of info, even if it meant hours spent thoroughly checking the veracity of the claims.

Taking her seat at the little bistro table as the apparent Guest of Honour, Rory sat back in the creaking wooden chair, pushing her sunglasses up and onto the crown of her hair. “Mr. Botha, I presume,” she said, reaching a hand out to shake.

“Call me Niel.” His thick Afrikaans accent rolled off his tongue in a low drawl, as he unbuttoned his suit jacket with one hand smoothly and took her hand in his other, giving it a swift shake. 

His hands were surprisingly soft, smooth. But then again most peoples’ were when compared to Price and the others she was close to, men whose hands were rough and calloused with the nature of their work. 

A young waiter came out and placed a steaming cup of mint tea on a saucer on the table in front of her, his head ducked down, doing his best not to make eye contact with any of them at the table before quickly departing. 

They’ve likely already been made. “Took care of ordering for you,” Nik mumbled. 

“Ta,” Rory said, lifting the tea to her lips and blowing away the steam. 

“So, this is my contact?” Botha gave Nik a sideways glance. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”

She sipped her tea and wet her lips, placing the cup back on the saucer with a quiet clink and leaned back in her seat, draping her arm over the backrest of the chair. Crossing her legs, she let her foot swing casually as she tossed down the first challenge with the lift of a brow. “And just what were you expecting, exactly?” 

Botha adjusted his shoulder, fixing his suit jacket before crossing his ankle over his knee as if mirroring her gesture. “Name like Rory, thought you’d be a mick, at least,” he said with a lazy shrug of his shoulder.

The stoic exterior Rory wore crumbled only slightly, her lips curling at the corner into a smirk. “Fair point.”

“Don’t look like any soldier I’ve met before either, ‘specially not the ones doing any real work.” He looked at her appraisingly and sneered. “Look more like those choty goty they set up Instagram accounts for to propagandise teenage boys just trying to skommel.”

Frozen in her seat, she stared at him as if she’d just made contact with an alien instead. “Beg your pardon?”

“Have a wank,” he restated the point he was trying to make in terms she would understand, motioning lewdly with his hand, simulating the act before checking his nails for the non-existent dirt underneath them.

“Lovely.” She grimaced, hiding her expression of disgust by taking another sip of her tea. “Let’s cut to the chase, yeah?” Leaning forward, she pushed her drink aside and clasped her hands together on the table, causing it to tip towards her. “Certain interested parties I work with have a stake in what occurred between the Russians and Iran in Al Mazrah. Heard through the grapevine you've been rather accommodating to both sides, completing transactions for them so they don’t have to get their hands dirty.”

“Interested parties?” Botha scoffed and took a sip of his coffee. “Who do you think you are?” He glanced over at Nikolai once more. “Who does she think she is?” His attention returned to her once more, a devilishly smug expression tugging his mouth into a lopsided grin. “I’m not some fokken spy, I don’t need any of this cloak-and-dagger bullshit.” Waggling his finger back and forth at her before pressing his hand to his chest, his fingernails clearly well-manicured. “I’m here to protect my own ass. And I’m willing to go wherever I think they can do the best job.”

“Including a British Special Forces Task Force?”

“Who just so happen to also be tied up with the CIA and the US military– if I’ve got my facts right. And, who are more than willing to work with those of a certain less than ethical persuasion.” He glanced at Nikolai, sighing as he scratched at the underside of his jaw, his nails dragging through heavy stubble. “Let’s get this straight, I’m no fan of Captain Price. But, I also know beggars can’t be choosers. I’ve made a few deals with Nikolai in the past, I’m certainly no goody two shoes, I go where the bucks flow. And now, I’m stuck with you lot so I can find my way out from being tied up with AQ. Rather be considered an enemy to them than you bastards.”

“No goody two shoes?” She huffed out a bitter laugh. “You mean being an arms dealer?”

He grunted with distaste at the term. “So crude. I act as a middleman. A service connecting buyers and sellers, and helping with the shipping and transport of select, exotic goods.”

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I didn't come here to debate the chosen term for your area of employment, Mr. Botha. You can call yourself a bloody entrepreneur for all I care, I’m just trying to gain some valuable intel and decide if it’s worth our time putting your arse under any sort of protection.”

“Jesus, it's like working with the Captain himself. So cut and fokken dry, aren't you? O man, and thinking you're the kings of the jungle out here while you’re at it.”

“Lions? Hardly— always thought of Price as more of a grizzly bear, quite frankly. Aggressive, territorial. Roar that’s just as bad as his bite. Not to mention, incredibly adaptable.”

“Well, if Price is a bear, then what are you, Lieutenant?”

Her smile was a dangerous thing, a threat. Eyes all agleam with that predatory lupine spark she had when facing down the enemy. “Depends on the situation, really. Now—” Taking a moment, she slipped her metal cigarette case from her pocket and flipped it open, pulling a cigarette from the protective cradle, and placed it between her full lips. “I'm sure you're aware of what happened with Ghorbrani, yeah?” Words coming out slightly muffled by the smoke in her mouth that jostled about as she spoke. 

Glancing up at him, her large doe eyes met Botha’s through the flickering flame of her lighter that had sparked to life as her thumb rasped over the flint. The fire danced over the tip of her cigarette, burning it to orange embers. 

“I'm aware of the dent that happened in my bank account. Yes.” He sighed and flinched at the metal snap of Rory closing the cigarette case. “Especially now that Zayani’s running things.”

“Not a fan?” She pulled the cigarette away and blew out a stream of smoke, leaving it to curl around her face in a veil and drift off into the late morning air.

“He’s mad.”

“Says the man who’s worked with all manner of despots.” 

“Don’t act like you’re squeaky clean. We both know our money’s painted red, and by the looks of things, that doesn't seem to be hanging over your head too heavily.”

“I make do, but this isn’t about me.” Pointing her fingers that held her cigarette at him, she put the focus squarely back on his shoulders. “You said you had information that would make this all worthwhile, care to share?”

“Not even bothering to rub honey on my mouth, huh?” He stabbed his tongue into his cheek and rapped his knuckles against the wood of the table, hesitating in answering. “The Russians. Apparently, they got their hands on something they weren’t supposed to, and handed it off to Zayani themselves. Hassan is a little too close to AQ for my own tastes, and if the Russians are still willing to deal with him despite the fact AQ have the Ruskies as enemy number one… well, it’s become all too much of an inbred fuck-fest for me to want to be involved anymore.”

“Quite the tangled web.”

“It’s koek. I have a hustle, this is all backdoor and black ops shit that your type get their broekies in a twist about and then deal with. It’s time for me to voetsek.”

She took another sip of her tea and a drag of her cigarette, letting him sweat. “Do you have any idea what the Russians found? Was it weapons, intel?”

“Whatever it was included shipping containers.”

Her brow lifted, but otherwise her poker face never slipped. “Shipping containers, eh?” That bit of information sparked something in her head. Just that morning she had received information from Laswell about the same thing in Al Mazrah.

Absorbing and planning, Rory glanced over at Nikolai and noticed the way the Russian sat stiff, his finger kept curled around the cigarette in his mouth as if he were watching something. Turning her head slowly to look out into the crowd, he leaned into her, his other hand clutching her elbow under the table. “Red track jacket. Black hat. Two o’clock,” he murmured quietly. 

Keeping her calm demeanour, she gazed out into the masses, noticing the man by the description given. It was clear they were being watched, and considering what the discussion topic was her gut instinct told her the threat was coming from only one place. 

Clearing her throat, she pushed away from the table. “Well, I hate to cut this short, but apparently we seem to have gained an unwanted appendage. So, I need to deal with that little problem before we can discuss this any further.” She stood up and placed her hand down on the table, her fingertips pressing to the solid wood surface as she laid down the law with the arms dealer. “Stay in town, Mr. Botha. Don’t go too far. Nik’ll be in touch.”

With that, Rory and Nikolai excused themselves from the cafe and headed out towards the center square. The streak of red through the gathered crowd towards the exit that led into the dizzying maze of streets and alleys of the casbah was all the proof they needed to begin the hunt. 

tagging @taciturntraveller

[crazylittlejester]

The Chain As Things That I Did/Happened To Me In September So Far Part 2

Disclaimer: yes, I’m ok!!! I’m just very emotional, especially when it comes to animals and fictional characters!!!

Four (I didn’t forget him this time, I’m still sorry little dude)- friend didn’t know I was behind the door (I was too short for them to see me through the window) and opened it from the other side, got squished :(

Legend- jokingly made a “soft launch” post with my best friend/roommate and accidentally trolled our entire friend group into thinking we were dating

Sky- Got up out of bed while still unconscious and asked my roommate for sticky tack

Wars- Went on a weekend trip. My glasses broke in the middle of a ghost tour shop. Had to wear my prescription aviator sunglasses the rest of the trip (including on the ghost tour). Instantly became the coolest person in the tourist town.

Wild- Bawled my eyes out to How To Train Your Dragon 2

Wind- burnt my tongue on tea in the middle of a psych lecture and “cursed like a sailor” (my friend’s words, not mine) at it, professor looked over at me and paused what she was saying before continuing

Hyrule- fought the library printer and then immediately absolutely ate it on the concrete stairs while I was leaving

Twilight- instantly burst into tears because someone was selling a pair of kittens on the school’s Snapchat story for only $50 and I couldn’t take them in (Bonus: found two dogs tied up to a hand rail outside of student union, freaked out, and stayed with them until their very sweet owner came back with food)

Time- joined a new D&D campaign and cannot stop yapping about it to anyone who will listen

we’ve had hilariously similar Septembers, I too joined a D&D campaign, fought a campus printer shortly before eating shit, messed up my tongue (i bit it) in a psych lecture and screamed, got absolutely nailed by a door a friend was opening, and took a weekend trip

anyways these are genuinely great matches for all of them, but i do hope you’re doing alright 😭

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

TMC Home Sweet Home AU: Encounter

Dave Lee stays behind at MandelaTECH to finish clearing out unwanted tech, unable to brush away the feeling that he isn't alone.

TW: blood, injury, body horror

Notes: This is around 5'000 words long, being the shortest HSH fic so far, but. Trust me. it's important. Anyway here it is!!! Hope you enjoy :)

July 29th, 1992. 11:35 PM

Another slow business day.

MandelaTECH had closed a few hours prior, but the emptiness seemed nearly the same as when it was open. Faint music played through a cassette player that rested on one of the metal shelves, said shelf being strangely empty for a store meant to be selling tech. Adding to the strange emptiness was the fact that the entire store was nearly completely silent aside from the stereo playing random songs, along with the sound of the AC blaring from the vents. However, rustling and thumping was heard from behind one of the doors leading to the back storage area. Faint whistling was heard before the door was shoved open by the one person in the store; the founder, Dave Lee.

He was a shorter, stouter man wearing a green shirt with MandelaTECH’s logo plastered on it in white text, partially covered by his nametag. He wore an unbuttoned, red-plaid flannel shirt over his arms, rolled up to his elbows. He had a bushy mustache on his top lip, and was wearing aviator sunglasses over his eyes, concealing them. Also partially covering his face was his black, very curly hair, which was messily covering a small part of his forehead. He held a large analog TV in his hands as he closed the door behind him with his foot, all before walking through the store, placing the Television onto one of the tables, all while he quietly sung to himself to break the silence.

“There she stood in the doorway,” Dave quietly sung as he placed the TV next to the ever growing stack of broken tech on the floor and table. “I heard the mission bell, and I was thinking to myself ‘this could be Heaven or this could be Hell.’”

He took a breath before rubbing his forehead with his hand, all before glancing at his watch, taking a deep sigh when he was reminded of how he should’ve gone home nearly an hour ago. However, the sudden news that he had to throw out most of his tech meant working overtime was an inevitability.

He took a moment to stare at the tech in front of him; radios, Televisions, boxes of VHS tapes, and even more were resting in front of him, doomed to be thrown into a dump in at latest a month. Dave’s brows furrowed, feeling a deep sadness in his chest as he realized that old tech was becoming obsolete, despite his best efforts. However, he then shook his head, realizing he’d rather throw out barely working tech then end up in jail.

He raised his hands to pick up one of the Televisions, pausing before glancing towards one of the back rooms. He then glanced back at the TV, along with a box of tapes before grasping the TV he just brought out and walking back. He opened the small storage room’s door, all before gently placing the TV on the ground and carefully pushing it against the wall. He left the room, coming back after a few moments before placing the box of tapes next to it, all before covering both with a black blanket and closing the door behind him.

“—And still those voices are calling from faaar away,” Dave sung quietly once again as he walked towards the rest of the tech, pushing back his urge to hide all of them somewhere instead of throwing them out like garbage. He picked up one of the smaller Televisions, all before turning back towards where the back door was, failing to notice the cord of the TV was dangling beside his feet. “Wake you up in the middle of the night, just to hear them say—”

Dave’s foot planted on the cord, causing him to trip forward slightly, luckily regaining his balance after a second, though his Television wasn’t as lucky. It fell out of his hands, smashing against the linoleum floor with a loud crash. Dave stumbled forward, staring at the shattered glass underneath the TV’s body, all while he held his hands up to his face in shock. “O-Oh…Oh no….” He muttered, trying to resist the urge to cry. He was going to throw it out anyway, so why did it hurt to see it break? He crouched down, carefully grabbing the metal casing of the TV, all while trying his hardest not to cut himself on the shards of glass underneath it.

He held it up, wincing as he looked into where the screen used to be, only to see the bare electronics and wires. He took in a deep breath, all before he shifted the TV to get a decent grasp on it before stepping over the shards of glass, realizing he was going to have to clean it up later. He continued to walk until he found himself at one of the back exits, pushing the door open with his shoulder before walking outside.

He looked around, seeing the dumpster in front of him, resting in front of the tree line near the back of the building. He turned to his left and right, seeing nothing down the alley within the light above the door, along with the streetlights nearby. He needed to get more lights installed back there, he thought. He hated the idea of not being able to see something back there. He felt the cool air hit him as he quickly walked towards the empty dumpster, hesitantly throwing the TV into it, hearing the loud BANG as it hit the inside of it. The sound made Dave flinch, all before he turned back and walked quickly towards the back door, opening it and slamming it shut behind him. He let out his breath, suddenly remembering how much he hated taking out the trash at night.

Dave swept the shards of glass on the screen into a dustpan as he listened to the faint sound of music coming from the boombox nearby, thinking to himself as he cleaned up the mess. Something in his gut felt especially…sour; a deep feeling of dread that he couldn’t place. It could’ve been anything, ranging from his exhaustion, to his fear of having to close his store for good. He grasped a box of old VHS tapes, holding onto it tight as he walked back towards the back door, pushing it open with his back and walking back into the cool night air. He took in a deep breath, walking towards the dumpster and tossing the entire box into it. Finally done, deciding to throw everything else out in the morning as he turned and walked back towards the door—

“It’s a beautiful, cozy evening in Mandela County tonight; clouds are rolling back, and the sun is set to shine tomorrow morning.”

A radio?

The signal changed, like a car radio flipping stations from songs, to the weather reports, to even a few old TV channels, or the audio of them at least. Dave stared towards the side of MandelaTECH, seeing nothing but darkness past the lights, the tint of his glasses making the dark parts nearly pitch black.

“Welcome to the Hotel California,” The static voice sung, pausing awkwardly before continuing. “Such a lovely place. Such a lovely—I just got a 10-15, heading to the place now. What did you…get a similar call?”

Dave stared into the darkness, slowly raising his hand towards his face, lightly grasping his sunglasses. He paused, listening to the unstable radio signals as he slowly removed them, his eyes squinting slightly from the light above him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw more and more, seeing nothing until he looked towards the corner of the store, freezing solid.

Eyes.

Reflecting the light; staring back at Dave from the darkness.

Dave stared back, hearing a garbled version of Amazing Grace coming from where the eyes were, Dave beginning to feel his heart sink as he barely made out the outline of a tall humanoid in the dark, seeing glistening teeth and a pale face. Dave and the thing in front of him had a silent staring contest as Dave stepped back a foot. The being remained unmoving, standing as still as a statue, all until it abruptly became silent. Dave stared at it in horror, dropping his glasses, hearing them clatter against the pavement beside his foot. The thing flinched, its gaze looking towards the glasses, then back at Dave, staring at him with its wide, dark eyes. Silence fell, all before it dropped down, pressing its barely visible, bony hands on the ground. Dave felt his heart drop to his feet when it began rapidly crawling towards him.

Dave turned around, sprinting towards the door as he heard it charging close behind, Dave swinging the door open before shutting it behind him. A loud bang emitted from it as the thing behind it slammed against it, the sound making Dave let out a surprised yelp as he fell to the ground. He could hear scratching and banging coming from the door, it shaking with every impact. Dave heard the sound of distorted radio frequencies, and with the realization that the thing was going to discover that the door wasn’t locked eventually came the realization that he needed to hide.

Dave scrambled to his feet, entering the main store, his eyes stinging from the fluorescent lights now that his glasses were gone. He looked around, continuing to hear the sound of the thing banging on the door becoming heavier sounding and more rapid. Dave ducked behind the customer service counter, reaching for the cell phone on top of it, missing grabbing it a few times before finally feeling it in his hand, pulling it down towards him. “Please…God damn it, please…” He whimpered as he dialed 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I-I…th-there’s something outside.” Dave whispered, glancing around his hiding place towards the back door, which was barely visible behind the store shelves between him and it. “I don’t know what it is; I don’t know what to do—”

“Sir, please try and remain calm,” The person on the other side of the phone line stated. “Are you hiding?”

“Y...yes, I am.” Dave flinched when he heard another loud crash against the door.

“Did you see what it looked like?”

“I-I don’t…I don’t know it was…tall and…pale?” Dave grasped his hair with his free hand as he tried to suppress the urge to panic. “I…I don’t think it’s human.”

Silence; for a tad too long for comfort.

“Don’t worry sir, help is on the way, where is your location?”

“Mandela Tech, on—”

“Officers have been sent to your location.” The operator stated, their voice strangely…quiet. “Remain silent and hidden. Do not instigate.”

“I w—” A loud crash made Dave choke on his words, hearing the door slam against the wall beside it. Dave’s blood ran cold as he covered his mouth with his hand, scared to look back at the now wide open door as he lowered the phone to his side. Past the music of the boombox, he heard the sound of bare feet walking across the linoleum floors in erratic patterns, along with heavy yet quick breathing. Dave could hear it moving around the store, brushing against shelves and knocking things off of them. He shut his eyes, swallowing hard as he shakily held up the phone towards his ear, barely audible as he whispered into it. “…It’s in the store.”

No response. The operator had already hung up.

The thing behind him continued to search around, mimicking the songs playing on the boombox as it did. Dave took a deep breath in as he carefully turned towards the edge of the counter, peeking out from behind it as he tried to catch a glimpse of the creature he heard walking around. He couldn’t see anything for a little while, instead only hearing the sound of tech parts falling off of shelves and distorted radio signals. However, after seeing it appear from behind a few shelves, Dave felt his heart skip a beat, seeing what he was dealing with for the first time in proper lighting.

It was tall; way too fucking tall, over seven feet at least. Its skin was a dull, pale grey, its veins visible from under its thin, sickly skin. It wore nothing other than a pair of raggedy blue jeans, which were full of holes and stained with what Dave hoped was reddish dirt. Its legs seemed short compared to the rest of its body, and its arms were eerily long, their musculature being odd and strange looking, as if it had more muscles than a regular human did. It held its hands down towards its knees, Dave seeing that they were large, with three short fingers, with the ring finger and pinkie being much longer, with long jagged nails at the end of them like claws. Dave looked up to try and see its face, though something told him it was best that he couldn’t see it. At the very least, it looking away from him gave him at least some comfort.

It roamed around, its movements jerky and erratic, as if it was stumbling over its own feet. Dave pressed his back against the counter as he looked at the phone in his hand, turning to his left, seeing the front doors were decently close to him, albeit in the open. He took in a shaky breath, carefully and quietly shifting onto his knees and soon into a crouching position as he looked towards his right. He wasn’t sure where the thing was, only knowing it was still somewhere on the other side of his hiding place, deciding to take the chance as he threw his phone as hard as he could towards the other part of the store.

It clattered against the ground, metal parts of it breaking off from the impact as it slid a few feet. Dave heard the thing stop, growing silent abruptly as Dave waited, seeing if it would take the bait. Luckily, it did, Dave being able to hear it drop down and crawl towards it, Dave looking to the right to see it huddled over the broken phone. It held itself with three of its limbs, picking up the phone with its one free hand as it stared at it, Dave only barely able to see its all-too-wide smile from where he was hiding. Dave looked back towards the front doors, able to see his car in the dark parking lot through the glass; salvation within his view. He only hoped that the phone would keep its attention long enou—

“911, what’s your emergency?”

The sound of the things radio frequencies made Dave freeze.

“Please…you gotta help me,” the distorted sound of a man’s voice begged. “There’s someone in my house…I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know how it got inside, I’ve had my doors and windows locked for months—”

Dave turned around, seeing the things wide, crazed eyes staring at him, its long face pointed downwards, making it finally look vaguely human instead of an animal with a snout.

“I-I…th-there’s something outside.” The thing spoke. “I don’t know what it is; I don’t know what to do—”

Dave heard his own voice echoed back at him from its mouth, it’s far too wide, toothy smile not once fading as its saliva dripped from its maw. Dave couldn’t think of anything more in that moment than his own conscious yelling that he needed to run.

Dave hurried to his feet, already sprinting towards the door before the thing behind him let out inhuman, garbled laughter and screaming. He glanced back only once as he rushed for the doors, turning back the second he saw the thing also scrambling to its feet and running around the counters towards him. Dave ran through the automatic doors, looking up to see his car across the parking lot besides the trees, suddenly wishing that he had the habit of parking closer to the building. He flinched when he heard a loud crash behind him, glancing back only once to see that the entity had lunged through the window beside the doors, landing on the shards of glass though seemingly unaffected by the shards of glass in its hands and feet. Dave simply turned back, deciding to not look back even once, not wanting to see its face again.

As he ran, his breathing harsh and rapid, he heard the thing behind him, its garbled radio signals becoming far too close for comfort. Dave finally made it to his car, grasping the handle only to find that the door was locked, and when he looked towards the creature chasing him, seeing that it wasn’t slowing down, Dave decided he didn’t have time to try and unlock it. He let go of the handle, beginning to sprint away as the thing behind him lunged at him, swiping at his back with its claws, narrowly missing it. Dave tried to suppress his urge to sob, feeling adrenaline rushing through his veins as he could all but feel the things breath on the back of his neck. He ran for the road, his lungs burning and his body sore, all as the creature grew ever closer, all before it dropped down, and swiped at Dave once again with its jagged claws.

Dave felt it tear the flesh of the back of his left knee. He let out a loud yell as he fell onto the cold asphalt, slamming against it, feeling his breath be forced out of him. A pulsing pain radiated from the large gash in the back of his leg as he quickly turned onto his back, looking at the twisted knee in horror before he looked up, seeing the alternate’s glistening teeth above him. Dave crawled back, his leg crying out in agony with every kick of his foot, barely able to get a few feet away from the alternate in front of him before it slashed at him once again. Dave held his arm up to protect his face, the creature’s claws scratching his skin, leaving two jagged, bloody lines in his forearm as Dave screamed. He held his bloody arm with his other hand, looking back up just in time for the other arm of the thing to slash at his face.

He felt warm blood run down the right side of his face from the two new, deep gashes across his skin. He turned away, supporting his body with one shaking arm as he held up his other over the new wound. He couldn’t see his own hand in front of him through his right eye, instead only seeing a reddish black; blind.

He looked back up at the creature, seeing it was stumbling closer to him; this was it. Dave was dead, and he didn’t even know it yet. That thing only knew slaughter, and Dave could see it in its crazed, bloodshot eyes. It looked down at him, echoing things it’s heard before, both familiar and alien to Dave. Dave covered the bloody wound that used to be where his right eye was with his hand, closing his other as he awaited the death he felt was inevitable. However, when he took one last glance at it, he noticed it wasn’t even looking at him anymore. It was looking towards the edge of the parking lot, and as Dave heard the sound of tires on asphalt, Dave began to wonder just how lucky he was.

Headlights hit the thing’s form, it backing away slightly as it covered its eyes from the light, though it refused to turn away from the car as it stopped nearby. Dave was blinded by the bright lights obscuring his already blurry vision, only able to see a dark silhouette exit the vehicle. The alternate was staring at the person, completely still and making no noise, as if it froze solid. It tilted its head slightly as it felt a strange sense of familiarity. The figure raised their arm, and a series of loud shots rang from the gun in their hand, Dave barely able to process anything aside from the thing stumbling back and screaming with stolen voices. It turned away, crawling away like spooked wild animal as its thick, dark blood oozed out of its new wounds. Dave watched as the figure blotted out the headlights, standing in front of him with their gun by their side. Dave could only hear their heavy breathing before they spoke.

“Shit…you alright?”

 “N…I don’t…n-no.” Dave stammered over his words, his mind going faster than his tongue.

“Jesus, you need a fucking hospital, come on.” The man said, his voice soft yet urgent as he held out his hand for Dave to grab. “Can you walk?”

“…I don’t…I don’t know, it…it—” Dave was suddenly reminded of the sharp, borderline unbearable pain in his leg.

“Give me your hand, we’re gonna get you some help.”

Dave obliged, grasping the figures thin hand as he helped Dave stand up, Dave wincing with every movement. The figure was far taller than him, making it hard for Dave to wrap his arm around his shoulders for support, but soon enough he was being led to the car nonetheless. Dave glanced up at the figures head, only being able to see pale bangs concealing his face. He seemed decently thin, and was wearing a leather jacket. Dave couldn’t make much out through the darkness, unable to even begin to state how grateful he truly was before he was ushered into the back seat of the car. Dave felt himself growing tired with every minute, unclear if it was from the blood loss or the pain. He tried not to think of what would have happened if the man didn’t make it there just in time; something told him he didn’t want to know.

He was too focused on the throbbing pain in his head and leg to pay attention to the what-ifs anyway.

July 30th, 7:10 AM

Dave awoke on a hospital bed the following morning, soreness rushing over his body as soon as he regained consciousness. He heard the sound of the heart monitor beside his bed, along with faint talking outside of his room, and when he opened his eyes, the fluorescent lights in his room stung his eyes, making him wish he had his sunglasses back. He had two long slashes on his face, held together by stitching that was partially covered up by the bandages concealing his right eye. He looked down to see that he had bandages on his arm as well, lightly stained with red, though it seemed like the bleeding had stopped or at least slowed. It didn’t stop Dave from feeling sick and woozy however.

He glanced around the unfamiliar room, seeing the pale brown and white walls along with the medical equipment nearby. He then took in a deep sigh, wincing slightly as he leaned back and closed his eye, feeling the exhaustion creeping up on him despite just waking up. However, before he could drift off to sleep once again, he heard the door open to his right. He turned slightly, at least enough to be able to see who it was, able to see that it was a nurse standing near the doorway.

“Mr. Lee, you’re awake.” He stated. “You have a visitor from the police department; he wishes to speak with you privately.”

Dave stared blankly at the nurse for a second. “Yeah…yeah that’s…fine.” Dave said weakly, his voice hoarse and his throat sore as he spoke. He rested his head against the pillow once again, preparing to answer a bunch of questions despite being half asleep. The nurse turned towards the partially open door before pushing it open, gesturing into the room before leaving, all before another person walked into the room.

“Mr. Lee?”

A familiar voice; gruff yet not too deep. Dave turned towards the man, finally able to see the person who saved him in proper light. He was a tall, decently thin man wearing a lazily put on white dress shirt, along with blue jeans. He had bleached long hair, held back with a lazy bun except for his long bangs. It had a scruffy beard, and tired green eyes that stared back at Dave with disguised concern. It had its hands in its pockets as it sat down in a chair next to Dave’s bed, all before Dave smiled softly.

“Y…It’s you.” Dave said.

“I was just stopping by to check in.” The man stated. “Making sure you’re doing alright after…everything.”

“Heh…yeah.” Dave grew quiet for a second before looking back at the man beside him. “Who…are you anyway?”

“Oh yeah, right…” The man cleared his throat. “I’m lieutenant Thatcher Davis, I work for the MCPD.”

“So you’re the one they sent?” Dave asked. “Cutting…it a bit close, don’t you think?” Dave chuckled nervously slightly, trying to lighten the mood despite not really feeling in the mood for jokes.

Thatcher stared at him blankly before looking away. “Hm.”

Silence fell between the two for a moment, at least until Thatcher continued.

“How do you feel?” Thatcher asked.

“As…good as I can be right now.” Dave said. “They…couldn’t save my eye, judging by what I’ve heard.”

Thatcher sighed deeply. “I’m…sorry to hear that.”

“…Don’t be.” Dave said. “I mean…it’s…better than it could’ve been. You win some, you lose some, y’know? Just…happy to be…alive I guess.”

“You’re…certainly more positive than…I could ever be.” Thatcher said quietly.

“Sometimes you have to be.”

Silence fell, and with it, the light attitude in the air began to dissipate.

“Lee, do you know…exactly what attacked you?” Thatcher asked.

Dave looked away from the lieutenant as he thought to himself. “Uh...it…It had to have been one of those…alternates, right?” Dave paused again. “Though…I don’t know; the way you posed that question…” Dave let out another nervous, not quite genuine chuckle.

The tense silence felt more uncomfortable that time.

“Did…you get it?” Dave questioned hesitantly. “Were you guys able to…find that thing, and…stop it from hurting anyone else?”

Thatcher looked at Dave, its stare dark yet sad at the same time.

“They’re going to list it as an animal attack, Dave.” Thatcher said quietly.

Dave didn’t understand the statement at first, taking a few moments to process it. “…Do…do they not…know—?”

“They do.” Thatcher stated, glancing away for a second.

“I-I don’t understand, are they just…you’re just going to cover it up?” Dave questioned with a tinge of anger to his voice. Thatcher didn’t respond, not making eye contact as Dave continued. “What the hell do you mean, you…I don’t understand—”

“Dave.” Thatcher stated quietly. “Look…I…I hate this as much as you do.”

“Then why don’t you just…tell them it was an alternate?” Dave asked. “Why are you allowing them to cover it up?”

“Listen…I wasn’t sent by the police last night, I was off duty.” Thatcher responded, feeling guilt creeping up inside of him. “I went Mandela Tech because I overheard the call on the police scanner in my car.”

“What?”

“I was going out to drive because I couldn’t sleep.” Thatcher continued. “…If I didn’t do that, Lee…you’d be dead.”

Dave remained in silence as he listened.

“They weren’t…going to send anyone, Dave.” Thatcher stated with a slightly wavering voice. “…They didn’t think…you were going to survive.”

Dave had no clue how to process how he felt, only being able to look away with furrowed brows and a confused and scared look in his eyes.

“Y…I d…I don’t…understand.” Dave muttered.

“It’s…protocol.” Thatcher stated. “And trust me; I hate it as much as you do. If I could, I’d leave that god forsaken police station but…at the moment…I can’t. I have a job I need to do before I can.”

Dave remained in stunned silence as Thatcher fetched a small notepad, writing something down in it before ripping out the paper. “Look, if anything happens again, you call me, alright?” Thatcher handed Dave the slip of paper, Dave able to see it was a phone number. “I’ll be there. I wish I could…do more to help but I’m afraid right now I can’t—”

“No…n…no you’re fine.”

Thatcher looked at Dave who was staring at him with a tinge of sadness. “Look…y…you saved my life last night.” Dave continued. “If anything…I should be the one repaying you.”

“Dave, that’s not necessary—”

“Thatcher.” Dave paused for a second as he thought to himself. “Thank you.”

Thatcher didn’t maintain eye contact. “You don’t…need to thank me. It’s just my job.”

“Yeah, but…you were off duty.”

Thatcher sighed quietly as it fidgeted with its hands. “…That…thing.” It muttered to itself. “…I saw it before.”

“…what?”

“It didn’t look…like that, it looked more…like an imitation of…m…fuck.” Thatcher shook his head as he stood up. “Forget it. Call me if you need anything, but…hopefully this is the last time we see each other.” Thatcher approached the door, grasping the handle before looking back at Dave through the corner of his eye one last time. “Good luck, Dave. Wish you…a quick recovery.”

With that, it left, Dave left wondering how to process how he felt as he looked down at the phone number in his hand. He sighed slightly as he thought to himself. He laid back in his bed, the pain in his body a bit more tolerable as he shut his eye. He was exhausted, and despite the looming dread of knowing he was left to die by the people meant to protect him, along with the strange feeling he got from Thatcher’s sudden leave, he decided to sleep, or at the very least try to. He wasn’t sure how well he would rest, knowing the things he now knew.

Either way, at least he knew there was a friend he could count on.

[jaysficarchive]

A Swing at Love

Chapter 3

Sakana hummed while washing her costume from today's performance. So far they'd been doing well without her father, having just finished their New York stop and concluding the entire world tour. While saddened by the news, she was also happy to be reunited with her father soon.

As she stood up to hang the laundry, the sounds of closing car doors filled her ears. She turned to see a man dressed in expensive suits walking towards her. He was also looking around at the various performers and props used in their shows.

"Can I help you?" Sakana asked.

"Hello. How are you, Miss Mizuiro?" the man asked with a greeting bow. He was an older man-- likely around her parents's age-- with a pair of aviator sunglasses over his eyes. He pulled them down to reveal his dark eyes.

Anger ignited Sakana's blood when she recognized him.

"What are you doing here, Fujimura?" Sakana clipped her costume to the clothesline before turning back to the men.

Fujimura gave her a pleasantly false smile. "I couldn't help but notice your circus was in town."

Sakana was immediately on the defensive. Ever since they'd gone back on the road, greedy businessmen have been flocking to them like vultures. It's just as her father had said-- the corporations descending on them now that he was sick. Hiroaki Fujimura was one of them, and just as frustratingly persistent as the others. Today he seemed extra chipper, which only made her more suspicious.

"I'm sure you're aware me and my associates have been looking to expand overseas, and given your circus is also based in Japan, I think it'd be a good opportunity for both of us."

"Thank you, Mr. Fujimura, but we're not interested." Sakana's sneered at him.

Fujimura chuckled. "You're mistaken, Miss Mizuiro. You see, as one of the early investors in Big Top Serendipity, I put a considerable amount into it, which now makes me a stakeholder."

Sakana's eyes widened.

"I'm here to take my equity stake. Your father left a very profitable and renowned circus behind because of his sickness, so I see fit to take care of you all and change some things about this establishment."

"And tell me, how would you do that?" Sakana was becoming impatient with the man.

Obliging her request, Fujimura pulled a list from his pocket. Apparently he'd been observing them for quite a while.

"First by relocating out of Japan and to Las Vegas. Second, you all will need a serious cast change. Some of these people are as old as me."

As Fujimura rambled on about all the changes he'd make to Serendipity, effectively destroying their way of life, her blood boiled with molten hot anger. Her father's words definitely rang true.

Finally, Sakana snapped.

"We're not selling our circus and that's final! Now get the hell off our property!"

"You don't have a choice, ma'am. Because of my early investment, I have some ownership in Serendipity. Unless you somehow have enough money to buy it from me, I suggest you prepare to be on the Vegas strip."

Vegas strip?! Just what was this man think they were?! "We won't allow this! Just because you gave my parents money doesn't you get to lord over everyone!"

Fujimura scoffed.

"Again. You, or your family, don't have a choice. They've spent too long resisting and letting my money go to waste on some traveling cirus."

Fighting back tears in her eyes, Sakana glared strongly at Fujimura. Hearing him insult everything that made Serendipity unique made her fury burn brighter. All the hard work-- blood, sweat, and tears-- her parents put into their home, gone to waste.

She wished her mother and siblings were here so she could sic them on Fujimura. She wished her father were beside her to lay down the law.

"What's going on here?" Selene walked up to Sakana and Fujimura, sporting a concerned look on her face.

Now with the Mizuiro matriarch there, Fujimura introduced himself and his plan. Like her daughter, Selene became furious.

"How dare you?! You will never own our circus and we won't be going to Vegas! If you think you can just come in and try to lord over us all, you have another thing coming!"

All Sakana could do was angrily glare at Fujimura, wishing horrible things upon him in her mind. Who did he think he was? Coming in thinking himself as a king and them as subservient subjects.

Even after the tongue lashing Selene gave him, Fujimura stood there eerily calm. Seeing his face so emotionless unnerved Sakana to no end. Part of her wondered if he was waiting for Selene to turn her back so he could strike.

Finally after a lengthy silence, he spoke again.

"I intend to collect, Mrs. Mizuiro, whether you like it or not."

He got back in his car and drove off.

Selene's fists were balled so tightly she was about to pop a blood vessel.

"Is he gone, Mama?" Mizumi asked. Her sudden voice startled both Selene and Sakana.

"Yes, Mizumi. He's gone."

"I don't like that he threatened you." Hisakata said. He wished he was big enough to protect his mother and his sisters, but would have to settle with using his words for now.

Night came but Sakana still burned with anger. How dare Fujimura come here and declare he has the right to Serendipity?! That snake! And then the threat he gave Selene? Just what was he planning?

Her anger turned to sadness when she thought about everyone else. The clowns, acrobats, and artists had been like family to her since she was born. To think that Fujimura would be getting rid of them, destroying years of meaningful relationships, could become a reality.

I need to do something... Sakana got up and quietly made her way to the kitchen. Maybe a drink and small snack would clear her head. Pouring a glass of lemonade with a ham sandwich on the side, Sakana sat at the table. Her mind pondered with possible solutions to combat Fujimura, but they all turned up as dead ends.

Sighing, her hand reached for the newspaper and looked through the pages. As she mindlessly flipped, something caught her eye.

Don't be shy! Become a mail order bride!

Wealthy, lonely men seek on demand wives from foreign countries

Checking to see if anyone was around her, Sakana tore the ad out the newspaper. She may have found a way to save her family.

The next morning was rough when Fujimura came back. Serendipity's cast was in the middle of packing for Japan when he showed up. But he wasn't alone-- some of his business partners tagged along with him. As Selene chewed them out, the younger Mizuiro children wondered where their older sister was.

"Has anyone seen Sakana?" Ryujin asked.

Mizumi and Hisakata shook their heads, though they were worried. The last thing they needed was her running off.

"You sure you wanna do this?"

Sakana nodded. While it may seem like she'd run out of options, that was so far from the truth. If she was going to fight someone like Fujimura, she needed to level the playing field. She needed the resources and money he had, and this was the only way to get it without risking her family into debt.

"Alright then." The man running the mail order bride agency took her name down. "Where'd you like to go?"

"Japan."

The agency owner hummed. "You're in luck, lady. I got a bunch heading to Japan this afternoon by seaplane."

A small smile crossed Sakana's face. "What time is it leaving?"

"12 sharp. Be there or get left."

Sakana nodded and left to get ready. Fujimura may have thought he had her cornered with yesterday's revelations, but she refused to give up.

Saizo brushed his hair as he prepared for the day. With much on his agenda today, it was utmost important he look his best. Especially since he was expecting company.

If ibu's words are true, then maybe I'll find the woman I truly desire, he buttoned his shirt. Now fully dressed, he headed downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. His bride was expected to arrive this afternoon, so he had to be prepared.

Sakana looked out the window at the vast sea below her. Dozens of other mail order brides were on board with her, all headed to Japan. When she returned to the circus to get her things, she told her family that she had to go but that her plan would be explained once they got back to Japan.

"We'll be landing in a short while, ladies."

Sakana clutched the handle of her suitcase. Was this risky? Yes. But it was worth it to save her family from someone's greed. Hopefully they'd find it in their hearts to forgive her. She couldn't imagine how worried they must've been when she wasn't at Serendipity this morning.

When the plane landed, Sakana joined the other mail order brides as they got off. While they were excited, she just mindlessly strode into the airport. Being home should've been joyful. It meant she'd see her father again.

Father...oh lord I know he's gonna- Sakana's thought was cut when she bumped into someone. They were sturdy, strong.

"My apologies."

Sakana looked up to see the most beautiful pair of eyes she'd ever seen. One was a deep dark brown while the other was as blue as the ocean.

"I-it's my fault. I should've been paying attention." Sakana rubbed her arm. She hasn't been back for a minute and she's already running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

"You wouldn't happen to be with the mail order brides, would you?"

Her heart stopped. "W-what makes you think that?"

"Because," the man rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm actually here to pick up one. The agency told me her name was...Sakana? Is that you?"

Sakana nodded. Now she was beginning to regret her decision. However, she reminded herself that she'd rather be in an unhappy, loveless marriage than let Fujimura take Serenpidity. "I'm her. You are?"

"Kaijura. Kaijura Saizo."

@julieemarine

[thekristen999]

Seven Sentence Sunday

I‘m having a lot of fun with @putijeansdiaz-ronordmann‘s Buddie reverse challenge.  Here’s more than seven sentences for my Mafia AU fic.

..

Chim shrugged and grabbed a bottle of water from a cup holder. "Look. I know you hate this and for the record, I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect of spending 24/7 with you for the near future. Think of this new assignment as a way for both of us to get some breathing room."

Near future. Yeah, no. He was a businessman, he had meetings and deadlines. Not to mention a few people to intimidate. While Buck understood using the very same tactics he was trying to end while converting his family business into legitimate operations was a little hypocritical. It was the results that mattered.

When all was said and done, maybe his father would finally look at him with respect instead of skepticism.

Until then, well, Buck didn't exactly practice what he preached. Occasionally, he got threatened, but it was usually all hot air and ego. Despite what Hollywood liked to sell, people in his line of work didn’t kill each other or break their kneecaps. Cyber-attacks, shady business dealings, sure.

Which made today's meeting unnecessary. But Chim wore his aviator sunglasses, which meant that his right-hand man and brother-in-law wasn't going to take no for an answer. It didn't mean Buck wouldn't complain.

"I don’t need a bodyguard."

"You need additional security."

"Then why can’t we hire from the million private security firms out there?"

"Because we need someone who isn’t connected to any other power figures in the city."

Don’t trust anyone who could secretly work for the enemy. Another of his Uncle’s motto’s. Buck sighed. "So, what? We’re choosing drop-outs?"

"No. All three gentlemen are new to L.A., and all come highly recommended from Athena."

That ended any further protests from him. Resigned to his fate, Buck waited until they pulled into the empty parking garage.

Chim got out first then came around the side to open the door for Buck.

It was stuffy inside the parking garage and two of three men were dressed in expensive suits. Buck watched sweat trickle down their faces, except for Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome on the far right. He wore a light black leather jacket with a black shirt that stretched over his chest, and jeans that fit him like a glove.

Buck could think of a few ways in which this guy could protect him.

...

Tagging @andavs @fleurdebeton @megsvstheworld @mellaithwen @homerforsure @renecdote @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @alyxmastershipper @loveyourownsmiilee  and anyone else who wants to play.

[all-the-things-2020]

No Better Place - Chapter 4

Summary: Cassidy puts Javi to work.

Word Count: 1100

Cassidy was leaning on the rail of the pen when she heard the rumble of a truck coming up her drive. Taking one last glance at the bay gelding who was pacing nervously back and forth, she turned to see who it was. She was not surprised to see the shiny new Ford from the Pena ranch roll to a stop next to her old blue truck. Now she just had to decide if she was happy to see Javi or not.

“Hey,” she called out as he stepped down from the cab. He wasn’t wearing a hat today, and his dark hair fluttered a bit in the breeze. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the aviator sunglasses he wore, but he seemed a little nervous.

“Hey,” he replied, shutting the truck door carefully so as not to spook the horse, who had started trotting now, his nostrils flaring. “How’s he doing?” He lifted his chin in the direction of the corral.

“Not too bad,” Cassidy said. “Had a hell of a time getting him down so the vet could geld him. I think he’s afraid of men.” To prove her point, the gelding tossed his head and pressed himself against the far side of the corral. “He’s okay around me, but the vet and his assistant got him freaked out.”

“You name him yet?” Javi said. He had stopped a few feet from her, which she was thankful for. Not only did it keep him further from the already agitated horse, it kept him away from her. She was determined to resist her physical attraction to him, now that she knew a bit more about him, but damn, he was hot.

“Buster,” she said, waiting for him to scoff.

“Because he busted out the fence,” Javi said with a nod. “I like it.” He scuffed one boot toe through the dirt. “Um, my dad wanted to know if you need anything else. He thinks I don’t have enough to keep me busy.”

Cassidy resisted the urge to snort at that. “Oh, I’ve heard that you’re plenty busy,” she said, leaning back against the fence rail. Javi tilted his head at her and she forged ahead. “I ran into a couple of people in town who filled me in on you, Mr. Pena.”

“And what did they say?” Javi shifted his weight, placing his hands on his hips. His blue shirt gaped open at the chest, where he’d left several buttons undone. Could his pants be any tighter? Cassidy thought idly.

“That you left your fiancée at the altar,” she said. “That you hang out at the Lobo on Saturday nights and go home with a different woman every week. That you buy whiskey by the case and cigarettes by the carton. That any woman with a lick of sense would stay far, far away from you.”

Javi chuckled, but there was little amusement in it. “I admit it,” he said. “I’m a piece of shit.” He shrugged.

“And yet, here you are, offering to help me again,” Cassidy said. “And don’t tell me it’s just because your dad told you to.”

Javi sighed. “They forgot to tell you I used to be a federal agent,” he said bitterly. “I’m used to blindly following orders.”

“Oh, they told me that,” Cassidy said lightly. “I just didn’t think that part was very important.” She turned her back to him and laid her arms on the top rail of the fence. “You can help me with Buster, if you want. I can retrain him, no problem, but he needs to get over his fear of men if I’m going to have any chance to sell him.”

She heard Javi take a few steps closer. “What would I have to do?”

“Not much at first,” she said. “Just hang out with him. Let him realize you aren’t going to hurt him. Maybe give him carrots and horse cookies. Groom him once he’s used to you, so he associates you with good things. I’ll do the actual training.”

Javi stepped forward a bit more, resting his arms on the top rail a few feet away from her. Buster quivered and snorted at the far side of the pen. “I can do that,” Javi said quietly.

“Good,” Cassidy said. “You two stay here and get acquainted while I get some work done with the others.” She pushed away from the fence and headed for the barn.

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

Javi leaned on the rail, watching Buster, who watched him back. The bay horse was on full alert, ears flicking back and forth, eyes wary. Javi could see the horse’s skin twitch with anxiety.

“Yeah, I get it,” Javi said softly. “They screwed you up good, didn’t they, boy? But I’m not going to do anything to you. We’ll just hang out for a bit, two losers together, okay?”

Buster snorted but remained on the far side of the pen. Javi sighed. He spied the lawn chairs he and Cassidy had sat in the other day and brought one over to the corral fence. Might as well be comfortable while he kept the horse company. Buster watched his every move as he carried the chair and placed it where he got a sliver of shade from the scrawny palo verde tree that grew nearby.

From his seat, Javi could watch Buster, as well as see Cassidy out in the bigger arena on the other side of the barn. She was lunging a bay horse, making it walk, trot, and lope around her on the end of a long line. She stood calmly in the center of the circle, giving the horse subtle cues with a long whip and her body language. It was mesmerizing, and not just because she was wearing another tight tank top.

He was so lost in watching Cassidy work that he forgot all about Buster until the gelding stepped into his line of sight. Javi was about to shoo the horse out of the way when he realized Buster was only a few feet away from him.

“Well, well,” Javi crooned. “Curiosity isn’t just for cats, is it?” Buster snorted and shied a few steps, but otherwise stayed where he was. Javi sat still, relaxing even though every instinct he had told him to lean forward. He didn’t want to spook the horse and lose the tiny bit of progress they’d managed to make. So he sat, and Buster stood, In companionable silence while the sun beat down and the flies buzzed around their heads.

[godtiercosplayhelp]

rlly rlly hoping you’re still active but i need some advice for a first time cosplay as face, specifically where to start. do i look around thrift stores for clothes? do i find things that are similar or that need to be modified? are there any good tutorials on a dave cosplay you can reccomend?

@thecosmicapple

Hi there. Congrats on your first cosplay! Welcome to this fun hobby.

If you haven't checked out this website yet, it's an archive of Homestuck related cosplay tutorials and guides. They have a sections dedicated to specific characters, so just scroll down to you find Dave.

The difficulty of this cosplay depends on which version of Dave you are cosplaying. WhatPumpkin used to sell official Dave shirts, both plain white tee shirts and the red sleeve baseball tees. You should be able to find either of those on eBay pretty easily. Here is an etsy listing for made to order Dave shirts. If you're looking for more DIY, purchasing a shirt at a thrift store and modifying it is also a great option. Here's a tutorial for using heat transfers for the shirt logos.

Here is a Dave cosplay guide. It's for his godtier outfit, but should help you out nonetheless.

Thrift stores would be a great place to start for aviator sunglasses. I think every pair of glasses I ever bought for cosplays were from Walmart or the Dollar Tree, so those are also good starting places if you have them locally.

Here's a link to a pretty cheap blonde wig to get you started. When I first started this blog 10 years ago, there wasn't much of a market for cosplay items on Amazon yet. I've bought a few wigs from there over the years. Just always check reviews! Some other good cosplay specific wig sites are Arda Wigs, EpicCosplay Wiigs, and the Five Wits Wigs, bu they are all on the pricier side because they sell very high quality synthetic wigs. A simple Amazon or eBay wig is plenty to start off with, though. Here's a wig styling tutorial on YouTube.

And lastly, remember to have fun. Cosplay is a hobby and it should be fun for you. Best of luck to you! Please feel free to reach out with any other questions. I'm sporadically active on this blog still, and typically answer messages privately.

[sharp-shooterspk91]

Sharp Shooters Pk - The Air Force Shop

An aviation enthusiast passionate about joining the forces and serving the country started this business in September 2012. By combining his devotion to his designs, he created elegant articles.

Starting with T-shirts and then hoodies, Sharp Shooters had numerous best-selling articles in their stock. Now, Sharp Shooters Pk offers a variety of products in its online store.

T-shirts:

The store offers a wide variety of T-shirts for all Air Force and Army zealots. Whether you're looking for a polo shirt or a cotton jersey T-shirt, you’ll never fail to find one at Sharp Shooters Pk. The store also offers beautiful color ranges of blue, green, black, grey, and camouflage.

Jackets:

Airborne flight jackets and camouflage jackets are always in high demand among customers. So Sharp Shooters Pk never fails to provide them, especially in winter. Light in weight and extra warm, polyester-lined jackets shield you from the drastic cold weather.

Hoodies:

Hoodies and zippers have been trending since the last decade and here you go with a vast collection of them at Sharp Shooters Pk. The passionate fans of air and armed forces love these designs with camouflage and many other tantalizing prints.

Trousers:

Sharp Shooters Pk offers a wide range of trousers in-store, including airborne paratrooper styles and various designs of camouflage trousers.

Aviators Sunglasses:

When it comes to sunglasses, aviators are always a “yes” and considered classy and elegant. Aviator sunglasses are characterized by dark, often reflective, lenses and thin steel, or titanium metal frames with double or triple bridges and bayonet earpieces. Sharp Shooters Pk dispenses a variety of aviators and Ray ban, along with American Opticals, Guess, Polaroid Fusion, MJ, Cartier, and Persol sunglasses.

Watches and Tactical Gloves:

High-quality watches such as 5.11 Field Ops and Ferrari watches are up for grabs at Sharp Shooters Pk. Tactical gloves in our stock give unmatched protection to hands from weather, abrasions, and impacts while used on duty or combating a shoot.

Tactical Gears:

Sharp Shooters Pk offers an extensive range of high-quality cotton Air Force, Army, and Navy caps with foldable shades.

Keychains:

Our online store offers an exquisite collection of aircraft keychains manufactured with high-quality stainless steel, perfect finishing, and detailed accuracy.

Aircraft Models:

The most demanding and loved articles of aviation enthusiasts are fighter aircraft models. F-16 and JF-17 models fabricated with plastic are among the popular items.

[johnbenderbc]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Ray Ban Gradient Aviators.

[aeprmedia]

Ralph Lauren Aviator Sunglasses

This is a demo product. Naming his brand after a sport that embodied a world of classic style, Ralph Lauren created Polo Ralph Lauren in 1967 as a label initially selling men’s ties. The label quickly grew and redefined American style with their signature preppy menswear. The now iconic Polo Ralph Lauren polo shirt was introduced in 1972 in twenty four colours and instantly became a classic,…

[frankmes]

A man in aviator sunglasses near me now looks good

Man and aviator sunglasses near me now almost match. When they have the right glasses, it improves their appearance. They prefer to wear these sunglasses rather than wearing round sunglasses. Airmen popularized them. Soon, the trend caught on, and now almost everyone knows about it. They're popular because they're fun. They may flatter you, but only if you have the right face.

The gold frame is a common feature of most pilots. They are what everyone wants. If you don't want to look different, you can choose this. Of course, you can also try the thin frames that are popular now. They provide the perfect look for fashion-conscious men. Aviator sunglasses near me now offer a real benefit because they not only make you look good, but they also protect your eyes. There are a lot of single men who want to get their hands on these glasses. If you want to join the ranks of pilots, then this may be the right choice for you. You look for the right glasses at an online store that is known for selling good, inexpensive glasses. You may also want to consider getting a pair of night vision goggles. Thin frames and night vision goggles are a good choice. There are many shades to choose from. Before you choose aviator sunglasses near me now, you need to know what kind of sunglasses are reasonably priced. Branded goods are more expensive and therefore may not be the right choice. If you are going to shop online, then be sure to check the reputation of the store. Also, look at the terms and conditions before you make up your mind. Before you decide to buy a pair of pilot shoes, be sure to check the fit, frame, and lens material. Ideally, you want a sturdy and durable frame. Titanium frames are a good choice. Metal frames are common and popular. You won't find a plastic frame on a pilot, but there may be some that you have to look for. Polycarbonate lenses are worth it. They can withstand rough use and are also durable. As a result, metal frames and polycarbonate lenses work well for everyone. Before you choose lenses, make sure they block out the sun and light, and more importantly, they should completely cut out the ultraviolet light. After you have selected aviator sunglasses near me now, you need to check if the online store offers free shipping. In addition, they should guarantee fast delivery. The store you buy from should also offer many payment options. Credit cards and PayPal are the most common payment methods. Best of all, aviator sunglasses near me now are perfect for men. They make you look good. They can also eliminate glare and boost your confidence. Now that you know what these types of glasses are, go ahead and buy them.

[frontporchconsign]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Ray-Ban Arista Brown Gradient Sunglasses RB3386 001/13 Gold Tortoise Aviators.

[mhkeiger]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: QUAY AUSTRALIA High Key Mini Bling Aviator Sunglasses.

[crazyblondelife]

Back to Basics and Style Inspiration

You know I’m a proponent of wearing what you already have in your closet, even though I do love to shop! I believe in buying the best quality pieces you can afford, for the most part, because these pieces will last for so much longer and you’ll feel good wearing them! Honestly, I’ve gotten to the point that I don’t want to bring anything into my closet that won’t still be wearable in five or even ten years. It’s just time for me at 60 years old to have a wardrobe that is full of classic, wearable pieces. Of course, there are exceptions…a few fun trendy pieces thrown in here and there make your wardrobe fun but even those, if purchased with care and thought can last for years!

January is my least favorite time of the year because of the weather and also because of the lack of sunlight! I thrive in the warmer months, but, alas…January is here and I do want to make the most of it! I find myself wanting to simplify everything after the excess of the holiday season, with clear, clutter free spaces and that also translates to my wardrobe! Basic pieces mixed and matched make me feel easily put together! Here are a few outfit ideas made up of basic pieces that you probably already own in some form! I hope you feel inspired!

I love the idea of wearing my Sambas with leather pants (these are recycled)…it’s a look I hadn’t thought of before, but why not? A basic white tee (closet essential) with a camel cardigan gets dressed up with a gold chain and a black bag completes the look! You’ll see me in this look often in the coming days!

I believe everyone needs a black leather jacket (or three)! I have a biker jacket, a more conservative leather jacket from Theory and a very old just basic black jacket that I still love and wear! I would like to add a black leather blazer to the mix this season if I can find just the right one! A leather jacket in some form or fashion is such a classic look that anyone can pull off and it pairs with jeans, trousers, skirts and even looks great with a dress! This look is classic and fabulous street style with the lug sole boots and medium wash jeans. Throw on the same white tee under the jacket, put your aviator sunglasses on, grab your bag and you’re out the door in style!

A herringbone coat is so stylish and classic and…I have a brown one but not a black one, so this one piece I’ve added to my wishlist! It’s a perfect everyday coat that’s just a bit more stylish than a solid coat but works just as well with most outfits! Loafers are trending and classic at the same time (also love these metallic ones) and a good black turtleneck is something that every woman (and man) needs as well as a pair of black sunglasses! I’m so in love with the YSL bag, but unfortunately, that’s for another day…a girl can dream!

I’m throwing in this picture as an example of how you can wear older pieces from your closet. I purchased the white blouse from Zara and found a little Pinterest inspiration on how to style it in an unusual way! It’s a pretty basic blouse that would go well with most anything, but I decided to style it under this embellished military jacket from Free People that I found in Nashville about 6 years ago! I loved the jacket then and I still love it…as far as I’m concerned, it will never go out of style! I added a very old bag from Chloe (at least 10 years old), a pair of clog booties that I purchased last season and my lower rise skinny jeans from Moussy Vintage (these are still some of my favorite jeans and are about 3 years old)! The pearl necklace is a little unexpected, but that’s what I like about it! The moral to this story is that if you really love something, you can find a way to wear it, so buy what you love and hang on to it! I’ve never been one to sell my nice things after a season because I still love them. Eventually, even if I take a break from wearing something, I’ll come back to it and revisit it in another way! It really is fun to get creative with your wardrobe!

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post…I felt a little long winded today! I’m working on a Valentine’s Day Gift guide for tomorrow that I think you’ll love! It’ll be here before you know it!

[drozzy]

Post 12 - Promotion

Ray-Ban effectively utilizes every medium possible for advertisements., but especially digital marketing. They have professional and efficient presence all over the online world, including Instagram, Facebook, Tiktok, and Google advertisements. Their outreach and engrained sunglass credibility help reel in satisficers by being everywhere; those who don't care immediately are drawn in by Ray-Ban. Another way to reach their target market is done so by the use of promotions done by big influencers. Another big medium is sponsorships, most recently, they've sponsored the Ferrari racing team, and all the drivers can be seen sporting Ray-Ban sunglasses. This is keeping up the image of badasses rocking sunglasses, such as aviators with the Air Force many decades ago. I think this is very effective, as it makes people want to emulate these influencers and celebrities. Personal selling is utilized by Ray-Ban, as they do have large retail stores with sales professionals helping assist customers and talking to them to drive home a sale. All in all, Ray-Ban has secured a strong presence in their market and it will take a lot for any company to knock them from their pedestal.