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anxious-allie-ren · 3 years ago

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Hey everyone! I’d like to introduce the new story I am writing! You can find it on both my AO3 and Wattpad. Both of which are linked in my bio. But I’ll also be posting the chapters here for you all. Be easy on me as I haven’t quite figured out how to post chapters on here and create a master list. That is something I will be working on. Alright, now in to the good stuff.

Erota

As the only daughter from a high society family, the pressure is on you to impress the ton and find a suitable match. You hope to find love, but your fate is decided for you. Your marriage is arranged to King Kylo of Chandrila. Pain and tough decisions are soon to follow.

This story is inspired by Bridgerton and regency era.

Hello everyone! I have been dreaming of writing this fic for a bit now and finally gathered the courage to do it! Like I said in the description, this story is heavily influenced by the regency era and the Netflix show Bridgerton. I've done my best to keep it accurate to both the era and the Star Wars world. I hope you enjoy!

The Ton.

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The season has finally arrived. You have officially joined the ton and are coming out into society. The debutantes of higher society are to be presented in court. This now includes you and your family.

You were the only child of the Duke of Selonia. A small territory southeast of Drall within the kingdom of Corellia. It's a quaint little area, nothing to brag about. It was cozy and calm. Many of the families had lived in the area for generations. Neighbors all knew each other. But despite its comfort and kindness it was lacking funds.

Since you had been able to remember, life was very simple. You helped in the gardens, the kitchens, and even with the laundry work. Your family took trips to town often, visiting with the people. Your mother loved to stop at the bakery and buy pastries to bring back to the estate. She told you stories from her childhood as bedtime stories. Coming from a common family and marrying into high society. Your parents married for love and not statues. Many scolded your father for marrying "below his station" but he let their words roll off his shoulders. He was attracted to your mother for her beauty, kindness, and capabilities. Your mother was no stranger to hard work, and she assured you weren't as well.

As you matured, you watched as your home aged as well. Bricks began to weather with time and vegetation started to take over. Farmers had less success each year and businesses were closing. The help your father was once so quick to provide had now dwindled into nothing. There was no help to give. The funding was nearly gone. After your mother's death, the strong and reliable man you had once called your father was gone. What replaced him was a shell of a man. He gave up on his duties as a duke and instead threw his time and money into bad habits. Gambling and drinking had become his crutch.

You lost your mother in your adolescence. Still a young girl so in need of a mother and her guidance. Her death left you confused and in desperate need of comfort. You tried to lean on your father. But in his own grief, he seemed to forget about you. Instead, you turned to your community. The maids and butlers became your family. They ensured your schooling would continue. The men even went as far as to teach you math and science. When you entered your teens, you attempted to take on the dukedom in secret. You went over all the documents and finances, trying to find a way to help your people and restore your estate. It was to no avail. Nothing could be done without your fathers signature. So you were left with no choice but to let it go. You focused on your studies and lessons with the maids. They helped bring you to maturity. Now, it was time to join society as an eligible woman.

Marriage has been heavy on your mind for many years now. The idea of meeting a man and marrying just for statues or titles didn't interest you. Neither of those things mattered to you. A marriage had become something with such a negative connotation. But love, now that was very different. You yearned for a true love match. You craved a deep connection unlike any you'd ever experienced. As a child, you'd developed small crushes on some of the neighborhood children. The butterflies and blushed looks were something you understood. But you'd never felt love before. You loved your family of course. You even loved your townspeople. But that was so different from what you hoped to find.

Becoming a debutante was not something you were looking forward to. Joining the ladies of high society was only asking for drama. But as the daughter of a Duke, it was your duty to join the ton and find a suitable husband. This had become increasingly important as your territory lost more and more money to your father's lifestyle. These thoughts scrambled around your mind as you got ready. You would be heading to the first ball of the season, your entrance into society, in moments. You were dressed in your nicest items. A deep red ball gown embroidered with golden florals along the bottom of the skirt and corset. Your hair was pinned back, allowing your face to stand out. Your maid, Jillian, was helping you put on your shoes as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Jillian had been with your family before your mother passed. She had watched you grow from a pained child to a strong young woman. She was with you every step of the way. Jillian became a motherly figure and your most trusted confidant.

Jillian pats your calf as she begins to stand, finished with clasping your heels. Her touch pulls you from your thoughts. You give her a polite smile and thank her, turning back to the mirror. Your anxiety is growing with each tick of the clock and in typical Jillian fashion, she can sense your discomfort. She comes to stand behind you, adjusting the pins in your hair.

"You know you're prepared for this. There's no need to sit and worry."

You meet her gaze in the mirror, her gentle blue eyes giving you a wave of comfort. You let out a sigh and play with your fingers.

"I felt prepared, but now that it's upon me, I'm not so sure. So much is at stake here, Jillian. The people of Selonia are relying on me to find someone who can help. What if I'm not up to standards?"

Jillian only chuckles at your words and places her hands on either of your shoulders.

"Standards? Now you're just being silly. You are a kind, intelligent, and strong young lady. Any suitor would be lucky to have you as his wife."

You turn to look at her, face scrunched in concentration.

"That's exactly the issue! It can't just be any suitor. They need to be able to fix dukedom and be the love I've been waiting for. What if that's unrealistic? How can I ever find someone to do both?"

Jillian places a comforting hand on your cheek, her thumb slowly stroking your cheekbone. She gives you a small smile before she speaks.

"Is that what you're so worried about? Dear, you're placing too much stress on yourself. Don't worry about the dukedom or Selonia. Go and find your love, everything else will fall in place."

You lean into her hand and smile, her words bringing you peace and a newfound sense of confidence. She pulls her hand away and turns towards your bedroom door. She calls back to you, "Now let's get you going! It's time."

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The carriage stopped in front of the King's summer estate. Many of the guests were already walking up the grand entrance and making their way inside. Your father hurried around and opened the door for you, holding his hand out and helping you down. Tonight he was doing his best to look and act presentable. You place your hand in his bent arm and let him lead you into the ball. Neither of you had spoken more than a few words to each other in years. You were surprised he even accompanied you tonight. His presence only made you nervous again. You weren't sure what his intent was by coming. Was he finally stepping back into his positions as father and Duke? Or was there some ulterior motive?

You found out quickly as he leaned in to speak to you, just as you were arriving at the entrance of the ballroom.

"I am expecting you to perform well tonight. I want to see gentlemen callers of high status calling on you tomorrow."

You look up at him and furrow your brows in confusion. So this is what he came for? To ensure you schmoozed with the highest titles with the most money? If so, he's going to be very disappointed.

"I'm here to find a reasonable suitor for myself, father. Not a suitor for you and Selonia."

He stops walking at your words, his head turning to look down at you. You can see his clenched jaw and anger in his eyes. His distaste for your words is written all over his face.

"Stop with your foolish girly fantasy of a love match. You're here to do as I say, and I'll be damned if you disobey me."

His words sting your heart. Your father had never spoken to you this way. When you were young, he was always so gentle and loving towards you. Now it seems you're just another pawn to be thrown around his chessboard as he pleased. You swallow the lump in your throat and move your gaze back down. Now was not the time to worry about this. You had more pressing matters.

You allowed your father to lead you to the entrance, stopping to allow the announcer to get your names. You took a deep breath as you prepared to face the ton. First impressions were everything, and you did not want to screw this up. The announcer clears his throat and stands at attention. Everyone in the room stops what they're doing to await the next debutante.

"Presented by her father, the Duke of Selonia, Miss Y/F/N."

You stare forward as your father leads you into the ballroom and towards the King and Queen of Corellia. You both stopped before them, your father unlinking your arms and bowing. You fall into a curtsy, bowing your head in respect. Your father stands back up and looks to the king. You stay still, awaiting the command to move. The king of Corellia rises from his throne and moves to stand in front of you. Everyone holds their breath, watching closely to see what unfolds. He places a gentle finger under your chin, raising your head to meet his gaze.

"Stand up for me, dear. You can relax."

You do as he says and stand quickly, giving him a polite smile as you return his intense eye contact. His finger never leaves your chin. He smiles back at you and begins to speak again.

"You are a true beauty, my dear. You know, they say the eyes are a window to the soul. I can see the love and strength living within yours. Hold onto that, they will be your biggest asset."

Your eyes widen at his words. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face.

"Thank you, your majesty."

With that, he removes his finger from your chin and climbs back to his throne. He turns his attention back to the room and declares, "Let the festivities continue."

Your father grabs ahold of your arm again and leads you away from the thrones. You can feel the crowd staring at you, but you can't find it in you to care. King Luke of Corellia spoke to you! Not only that, but he complimented you. This was a great honor bestowed on very few. You would take his advice to heart.

It seems your father had a different perspective. He leads you to a table with dance cards placed neatly in rows. You begin to search for your name as he smirks and begins talking.

"Compliments from the king will help greatly in gaining potential suitors. You'll be the most desired lady in the ton. Seems finding you a husband of high title will be easier than I thought."

You finish tying the card to your wrist and turn to look at the room. Your father continues to talk as you observe your surroundings. You look up at the elegant chandelier. It shines beautifully in the light, casting sparkles all over the room. You watch as they dance across the guests, creating an angelic and light atmosphere. A waiter comes by and offers you and your father glasses of champagne. You take a small sip and return your attention to the crowd. Many of the ladies are giving you glares or speaking with the eligible men in attendance. You take notice of their attire. Many have much more elegant gowns and jewels on. Their appearance shows how much they have to offer. Your feelings of inadequacy begin to creep back in. You don't even notice a man approaching.

Your gaze stops on a young man across the room. His dark brown curls and bright smile grabbed your attention. He was speaking to another man, seeming to be in deep conversation. His face was so expressive as he spoke, hands moving about to help prove whatever point he was trying to make. You couldn't help but be captivated by him. If there was anyone you were hoping to get a moment with this evening, it was him.

You snap from your thoughts as your father greets him and motions towards you. This man must have been reaching his thirties. Much older than any of the debutantes here. His bright ginger hair stands out like a sore thumb. He makes eye contact with you as your father talks. An uneasy feeling sweeps over you. For some reason, something about this man doesn't sit right with you.

"Y/N, I'd like you to meet the Earl of Drall, Lord Armitage Hux" your father says as he motions towards the man. Lord Hux takes your hand and raises it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. The contact makes you cringe internally. Your father looks at you expectantly and you quickly pull yourself together.

"Hello Lord Hux, it is so nice to meet you."

Your father smiles at both of you and claps a hand on Lord Hux's shoulder.

"Lord Hux here is a good friend of mine. I was hoping to introduce you both tonight."

The uneasy feeling now makes sense. Any friend of your fathers is likely a crook. Not at all the type of man you want to be speaking to. You nod politely, biting your tongue from speaking your mind freely. The men then turn away from you and begin a discussion of their own, leaving you out. You lift your glass of champagne back to your lips and turn your gaze back to the direction of the man you had spotted before.

Instead of finding the curly haired man again, you met eyes with someone else. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back was a raven haired man. He stood tall and broad, much larger than any other man in the room. His gaze pierced through you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. You wanted to approach him, but to do so would make you look indecent.

Your eye contact is cut off by Lord Hux coming in front of you. He holds out his arm to you in invitation.

"Would you do me the honor of a dance, Lady Y/N?"

You wanted nothing more than to say no and go speak to the mystery man. Or even go find the curly haired man from before. But you know you had no choice in the matter. To deny him would make you look bad to the ton. Plus, your father would never stand for it. So you placed your hand in his arm and nod.

"Of course, Lord Hux."

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I really hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you think!

Love,

Allie

#star wars #kyloren #kylo #kylorenthings #fanfic #fanfiction #king Kylo #reader x character #readerxkyloren #reader x Kylo #reader x Kylo ren #poe dameron #armitage hux #Hux #Poe #historical #regency #regency era #bridgerton

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pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 4 years ago

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Wormhole | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 10k

A/N: This is a comfort fic disguised as a CM episode. Also, I had a lot of fun writing this.

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, murder, general CM things, hospitals, mentions of blood, psychopaths

You weren’t normally nervous to talk to Agent Aaron Hotchner. Sure, he was your boss, but he had also been leading the BAU for so long that you always trusted his reactions and motives. Still, the reason you had asked him to meet was so far out of left field that you were nervous he would tell you you were insane.

You were the first one in the office for the morning, perching on your desk in the empty bullpen while you waited for Hotch to arrive. You stood up when he entered the office, but waited to move until he made it to his office door and beckoned you to follow him inside.

“Good morning, (y/n).”

“Morning, Hotch,” you stood awkwardly in front of his desk, clutching the file in your hands.

“Please, sit. Is everything ok?” As soon as you made eye contact with him, your nerves settled. Everything about his behavior showed that he was genuinely concerned for you and interested in what you had to say. You took a deep breath, sliding the file onto his desk.

“I was looking into this cold case from the eighties, in Illinois. Mia-Rose Horn, 16, found murdered under a bridge. I have a theory, and I was hoping I could take a couple of days to go check it out.” You bit your lip while he picked up the file, thumbing through it.

“What��s your theory?”

“The only suspects considered were older transients in the area because the town was so biased against migrant workers. My preliminary research shows that the unsub profiles as younger, someone who knew the victim and her family personally. It feels like there’s a piece of the puzzle missing, and I think victimology can really help this case. I’d like to visit the dumpsite and walk the crime scene. I’d also like to go through the evidence to see if I can narrow it down a little more, and possibly do updated DNA analysis. I’ve already contacted the lead detective, he said it would be fine if I went out there.”

Hotch was quiet for a minute, reading the case information from the file. The longer you sat in silence, the more you feared he would say no. Finally, he closed the file and handed it back to you, “the FBI wasn’t invited in on this case when it was active, how did you find it?”

You blushed, hard. “I was watching a cold case documentary and when they talked about this one it just didn’t feel right, so I asked Garcia to pull the file. Once I looked it over more I realized my hunch was correct. They barely built a profile and the one they did make was wrong.”

“Do you work on cold cases often?”

“I’ve only worked on it when we don’t have an active case and I’m caught up on my paperwork, it makes me feel like I’m still making a difference when things are slow here.”

Hotch nodded, “you’re a good agent, (y/n). I trust that you’ll represent the BAU well. I can’t let you take the jet but you’re welcome to an SUV. However, as soon as we get an active case it takes priority. Do you understand?”

You stood up quickly, excitedly gripping at the file, “Yes sir, of course. Thank you so much. I promise I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think I could do something. I won’t let you down, sir.” Hotch smiled softly at your energy. You had reached for the door handle before he spoke again, calling after you.

“(y/n),” you turned, hand still on the doorknob, “take Reid with you, I assume he knows the details of this case, too?” You nodded quickly, practically bouncing back to your desk with excitement. You checked the clock, Spencer would probably arrive in the next ten minutes or so, giving you time to arrange everything you’d need for the trip.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, you were waiting for him, go bag in hand.

“Hotch said you could go?”

“Not only that, he said you could come with me,” you smirked, falling in step next to him as he walked to his desk.

“Really?”

“We’re leaving now, so get your go bag.” You did a little happy dance as he started to gather his things.

“Ooh! Where are you going?” Penelope joined you at Spencer’s desk, hot cup of coffee in her hands.

“(y/n) is solving a cold case, we’re going out to Illinois to get more information.”

“The one I pulled for you? You actually solved it? Is there anything you can’t do?” Penelope asked in disbelief. Just last week she had explained to you why she was convinced you were a superhero.

You laughed brightly, “I don’t know if I can solve it yet, that’s why I need to go check it out for myself. Yes, I’ll call you if I need anything,” you answered when she opened her mouth to speak again. She hugged both you and Spencer before you left, making you promise you’d call her with updates and letting you know she’d call the detective to let him know you were on your way.

In true Spencer fashion, he had brought enough audiobooks to last the whole drive. You didn’t mind, your brain was more focused on driving. You didn’t talk about the case until you were nearing the end of the twelve hour road trip. Spencer was the one to bring it up, turning down the volume knob on the console.

“How are you feeling about this?”

“To be honest, Spence, I haven’t really been listening.”

“I meant about the case,” he chuckled.

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up. It’s been a cold case for over three decades for a reason, you know?”

“We wouldn’t be in Illinois right now if you weren’t on to something. Instincts exist for a reason, and your instincts are usually right.”

You fiddled with the air conditioning vents absentmindedly, “I don’t want to dredge up old wounds for the family and the town unless I’m absolutely certain I can bring some closure to them as well. The detective is the only person who knows we’re coming. I don’t want to start interviewing witnesses until I know I can do something to help.”

Spencer nodded, “I’ll follow your lead, you just tell me what you need.”

You spent the rest of the time discussing the details of the case, Spencer looking over the file again while you navigated to the police office. Having Spencer with you made you feel a lot better. You knew the case front to back, but this was your first time leading an investigation and you didn’t want to accidentally miss something in the file out of nervousness. Spencer’s eidetic memory and genius brain would keep you on track and ask you questions you knew would only help you in the grand scheme of things. Spencer was also your best friend, your biggest supporter. Any considerations he had would always come from a place of love and mutual respect.

When you arrived at the police station it was late in the evening, but the detective was waiting for you. He was an older man, tall and mostly bald.

“Hi, you must be Agent (y/l/n). Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Detective Reeves, nice to finally meet you, too. This is my partner, Doctor Reid.” Spencer brought a hand up to wave. “Thanks for letting us take a look at this.”

“Thanks for making the drive out here. This case…” he sighed, “Mia-Rose went missing two months after I started this job and I’ve been hunting her killer ever since. It’s been thirty two years, a fresh pair of eyes will do this case good. It’ll do the whole town good if you can see somethin’ I haven’t.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” you said, not wanting to promise any results to him. “Is there a room we can set up in?”

“I’ve brought all of the evidence to our conference room. Use it for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” you took off to the door that he had pointed at, Spencer on your heels. He shut the door behind you, dropping his bag on a chair while you picked up examination gloves.

The next few hours were spent meticulously going over the evidence that had been collected. You occasionally made comments to Spencer about where the item had come from and any notes that had already been documented about it.

The clock had just passed midnight when you were ready to move on to the next part of your investigation. You wanted to walk the dumpsite, but it would be useless to go while it was still dark. Instead, you retreated to a small motel at Spencer’s insistence that you needed sleep.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to shut my brain off enough to actually sleep,” you confessed once you were wearing sweatpants and leaning up against the headboard of the bed.

Spencer wandered out of the bathroom, giving you the softest look as he sat down next to you.

“What are you thinking about the most?”

“The evidence told me exactly what I thought it would, but I can’t build a decent mental picture of what happened until I see the dump site. What if I get there and it still doesn’t make sense? What if I’m in too deep on this one, Spence?”

“This case has been cold for thirty years, it can wait one more night. You are an incredible FBI agent. You’re an incredible human, at that. I know you can handle this, and Hotch knows you can handle this, too. If you aren’t able to solve it, you’re not letting anyone down. It’s been a cold case for a reason, I’m sure you’ll solve the next one.”

“Logically I know you’re right, but that isn’t making sleep happen any easier,” you sighed, sinking down onto a pillow. You could tell from Spencer’s expression that he had an idea when he reached up, turning off the lamp beside him and laying down next to you in the dark.

“This is called Image Distraction, all you have to do is close your eyes, try to relax, and listen to my voice.”

“Are you hypnotizing me?” you giggled into the darkness, feeling like a small kid at a sleepover with their best friend.

“No, it’s just a strategy to help you fall asleep. I’m going to describe a scene to you and the idea is that it takes up enough space in your brain to prevent you from re-engaging with other thoughts. Hypnosis doesn’t actually put you to sleep, just in a trance that seems like you’re sleeping. It’s been proven to help change habits and thoughts around sleeping though. There was a study done in 2010-”

“Is that what I’m supposed to be picturing? I’m seeing dudes in lab coats and creepy hospital walls.”

You felt the mattress shake next to you as Spencer laughed.

“No, that wasn’t it. I’m going to start now, picture a waterfall. As you walk closer it gets louder, pounding onto the rocks below it and spraying a mist into the air. The droplets of water stick to your face. You can see a rainbow that touches the pool at the base of the waterfall. The plants growing around the pool of water are greener than emeralds, bright and shining in the sun…”

That was the last thing you remembered him saying before succumbing to sleep. You had a very vivid dream while you were sleeping, not uncommon for someone in your field, but it wasn’t one you had had before.

There was a teenage girl walking in front of you down a long hallway. You instantly recognized her as Mia-Rose. She turned around every so often, beckoning you to come closer, but no matter how fast you tried to move your feet it was impossible for you to catch up. The hallway was familiar, you realized it was one in Quantico that you walked down every day to get to the elevator. It took longer than normal to reach the end, and just when you thought you could catch up to Mia-Rose, Hotch stepped out in front of you, holding Spencer with one arm and holding his gun to your best friend’s temple with the other.

“You have to choose, (y/n).”

“Choose what?”

“One of them has to die. Him or her?” he moved his gun to point the barrel at Mia-Rose.

“I don’t understand, why can’t I save them both?”

“One of them has to die.”

It only took you a moment to consider, “me. Shoot me. Let them live.”

“Brave choice,” Hotch’s gun came to point at you and his finger squeezed the trigger.

You woke up.

Soft morning light was coming in through the window and Spencer was already awake, quietly tying his tie while perched on the edge of the bed.

“Morning,” he grinned when he noticed you watching him.

“Morning,” you panted, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“You were dreaming.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hotch made me choose between him shooting Mia-Rose or shooting you.”

“What did you choose?”

“I made him shoot me instead.”

You expected Spencer to launch into an analysis of your dream and what it meant, but instead he asked another question, changing the subject.

“Can we stop for coffee before we walk the dumpsite?” he pulled a blue cardigan out from his go bag and stuck his arms through the sleeves.

“Sure,” you said, stretching as you stood up. While you got ready, Spencer found the nearest place to get coffee, and you stopped there before continuing on to the bridge where Mia-Rose’s body had been found thirty years ago.

“I’m too used to walking active crime scenes,” you murmured when you pulled over to the empty dumpsite. Normally dumpsites like this were taped off with officers present, as well as some news reporters and civilian gawkers. You were sure that it had looked like that when the crime had first happened, but now it was just a bridge that nobody thought about.

When you stepped out of the SUV you noticed a small memorial for Mia-Rose nailed to a tree, wilted and weathered flowers around it. You stopped for a minute to look at it, then continued through the brush to the overpass.

Mia-Rose had fallen off of the bridge onto the ground beneath, where you were standing now. Her death was originally ruled a suicide, which had slowed the investigation until her parents insisted she wasn’t suicidal and had her autopsied, revealing ligature marks and evidence of assault. Just from reading the file, you knew that her parents were right. She didn’t profile as suicidal, and if she was she could have jumped from further down the bridge into the flowing river to your right, not onto the ground where she likely would have survived.

“Mia-Rose was found right here,” you pointed, “and her belongings…” you turned to your left, Spencer moving from behind you to stand where the girl’s school backpack and shoes had been found, a handful of yards away.

“They were found next to this rock.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, facing him from where you stood, “the ME found traces of motor oil on her skin, so she must have been transported in a car. That means the unsub was driving on this road, stopped here by the bridge, then tossed her over the side. Why not just toss her stuff after her?” After thinking in silence for a minute, you started moving. “Stay where you are,” you instructed Spencer as you climbed the embankment. Once you reached the bridge, you stood on the edge so you could see both locations of dump sites.

“Spence,” you called to him, “how long is the average car?”

“Anywhere between 10 and 18 feet, depending on the size of the vehicle,” he answered quickly. You positioned yourself in line with where Mia-Rose’s body was found, then paced out roughly fifteen feet, landing you almost squarely in line with where Spencer was standing down the hill.

“What are you thinking?”

“This might sound kind of out there, but what if there was a partner?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out how you had gotten there. He climbed up to where you were standing before asking you about it, “what makes you think that?”

“Eyewitness accounts said they saw Mia-Rose in a car with a man the night she went missing, and they were both sitting in the front of the car, but that’s about all anyone can agree on. What if there was a second unsub sitting in the back? If I’m the unsub getting Mia-Rose out of the front, you’re taking her stuff out of the trunk and tossing it over the side,” you acted out.

“Which means my DNA should be on her belongings,” Spencer concluded, finishing your thought, “I’ll call the lab and start getting things processed.”

“Good idea, I’m going to call Garcia and then we can head back to the station,” you said, pulling out your own phone as Spencer took a step away to make his call.

“Crimefighter! What have you’ve got?” Garcia answered her phone quickly.

“Hey Penelope, can you go through the list of Mia-Rose’s family members and get me some updated contact info?”

“Of course! Did you get a lead? I knew you could solve this,” she rambled. You could hear the clicking of her keyboard as she multitasked.

“Not quite, just a better understanding of the situation. I want to start interviewing family members to really nail down victimology and see if they know of anyone who fits my profile. Spencer’s calling the lab to get some evidence re-examined. When they send you results can you run them through CODIS?”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now, thanks Garcia.”

“Anytime, my love. I just sent the updated contacts to your tablet. Garcia out!”

Spencer was waiting for you in the SUV, once you finished your call with Garcia you drove back to the station. Detective Reeves assigned an officer to help you call the family members and invite them in for interviews.

“Mrs. Horn, thank you for coming in to talk with us,” you said gently to the elderly woman sitting across from you.

“Anything to help you find my little girl’s killer. Do you really think you can solve it?”

“We’re trying our best. Any information you can give us will make our job easier. Mia-Rose was walking home from school when she went missing, and was later seen getting into a blue car. Is there anyone she would have willingly accepted a ride home from?”

“No, she always walked, rain or shine so she could say hello to the neighbors on her way home. Except for Tuesdays, my brother Dylan would drive her home from band practice on Tuesdays because it was after dark.”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, silently acknowledging that Mia-Rose was abducted on a Friday.

“Did she have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her, bullies or friends she might have had a falling out with?”

“No, she was sweet to everyone. That’s why it was such a shock to the town when she was killed. There wasn’t a soul who hadn’t been touched by her kindness.” Mrs. Horn spoke so highly of her daughter, further validating your theory.

“Let’s take a break,” you said, noting the way she was tearing up, “excuse us.” You stepped out of the room with Spencer.

“We should talk to Dylan,” he said once you were out of earshot of Mrs. Horn.

“I agree. He was interrogated by police when Mia-Rose first went missing, but I don’t think he’s a suspect. His alibi was rock solid, but he might know something about what happened.”

You had the detective bring in Mrs. Horn’s brother, Dylan Godfrey. While he agreed to an interview, he was much less cooperative than Mrs. Horn.

“I told the police thirty years ago, I had nothing to do with it,” he drawled, “I was at home with my wife, God rest her soul. I didn’t even have my car to kidnap Mia if I wanted to.”

“Where was your car?” Spencer asked quickly.

“My boy had it, out with his friends. He had just gotten his driver’s license. You know how kids are, impossible to control.”

This was the first you were hearing of his son. Nowhere in the records from the original investigation did it say Dylan Godfrey had a son, let alone a son who’s whereabouts were unknown on the night of the crime.

“Mr. Godfrey, let me ask you this. How old was your son the year Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“Eighteen.”

“Do you know where he was that night?”

“Out, like I said. He didn’t come home until after two o’clock in the morning.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Last I knew he was working on a farm just out of town, the McGilroy’s place.”

As soon as Spencer had gotten the information out of him, you were firing off texts to Garcia. She sent you the address of the farm, and you called her once you were en route.

“You’re on speaker, Garcia. What have you found about this guy and why didn’t we know about him before?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. He wasn’t included in any of the original witness statements. I’ve barely been able to find information about him online. I know he’s still alive because I don’t have a death certificate, but other than that no home address, no phone number, no nothing. Everything I know about him is from his childhood, before Mia-Rose went missing.”

“Something is better than nothing, what did you find?”

“Daniel Godfrey, born in 1965 to Mary and Dylan Godfrey. He was a decent kid from what I can tell. He got good grades in school, even got a scholarship to a college in Chicago but he turned it down at the last minute. I’ll hit you back if I figure out why.”

“Thanks Garcia,” you chirped before she hung up. You pulled up the long dirt drive of the McGilroy’s farm, putting the SUV in park and getting out. Spencer was by your side in an instant, you noticed the way his hand rested on his revolver.

“My goal is to get him in for a voluntary interview. If we can get him talking, we can figure out what happened that night and why his known locations on that night fit our timeline. Best case, we get a confession and the name of his partner, worst case, he had nothing to do with it and we’re back where we started.”

Spencer nodded, so you reached up to knock on the door. After a moment, a blonde woman opened the door.

You flashed your credentials, “hi, I’m SSA (y/l/n) with the FBI, we’re looking for Daniel Godfrey and we were told he might be here.”

“He’s out back in the barn,” she said, pointing down a gravel path.

“Thanks so much,” Spencer said as you stepped off the porch. You reached the barn and pushed open the large door, revealing a man inside. He was carrying a bucket of water that he poured into a trough for a horse before acknowledging you.

“What can I do ya for?”

“Are you Daniel Godfrey?” you asked.

“Depend’s who’s asking,” he chuffed, wiping his hands on his dirty coveralls. You held up your credentials.

“I’m Agent (y/l/n) and this is Doctor Reid. We’re with the FBI investigating the murder of your cousin, Mia-Rose Horn. We were hoping you’d come in to the station so we could get some more information about her.”

“What kinda information? Mia’s been dead a long time now.”

You had to play this carefully, one wrong word and he wouldn’t voluntarily interview with you, “your father told us you were out with friends the night she disappeared. We were hoping you could tell us what town was like that night and if you saw anything unusual.”

“You talked to my father? I can tell ya right now, it was quiet. Just like any other night in this town.”

“Great, that’s exactly the kind of information we’re looking for. Would you be able to come with us to the station so we can get that statement through the official channels? While we’re there I’d like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s ok.”

“Are ya saying I’m being arrested?”

“No, not at all. This is completely voluntary.”

Daniel fell silent, considering your offer. When he finally spoke again it was gruff and hostile, “will my old man still be there?”

You exchanged a glance with Spencer, hoping he had a better read on what answer would be your best choice. Spencer’s tongue flickered over his lips, then he cautioned a response, “he’s there right now, will that be a problem?”

Daniel looked dejected, scuffing his feet in the hay below his boots, “not unless he makes it a problem.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Our car is out front, is there anything you need to do before we go?”

Daniel shook his head and quietly followed you and Spencer back to the SUV. He didn’t say much while you were driving back to the police station, and neither did you. You escorted Daniel inside the station, walking quickly past where his father was sitting, still talking to the officer Reeves had assigned to your case. Dylan stood up when he noticed his son, but Daniel just kept his head down and quickened his pace. You brought him to an interrogation room, a small space with just a table and a couple of chairs.

“You can wait here, we just have to go collect some materials and then we’ll be back, alright?”

“Whatever,” Daniel said, taking the seat closest to the door. You stepped out, shutting the door behind you.

“Did you see the way Dylan reacted when he saw Daniel?” you asked Spencer quietly. He nodded.

“Did you see the way Daniel reacted when he saw Dylan?”

“Do you think it’s relevant to this case? I don’t want to waste time asking about it if it’s just some squabble they had once. Hotch said I could only work this case until we got an active one back at Quantico, and you and I both know serial killers don’t take extended vacations.”

Spencer considered the situation, you could almost see the gears turning in his mind, “it might be a way we can get him comfortable talking to us, irrelevant or not. This is the best lead we have. Just like you said earlier, you have to get him talking.”

You trusted Spencer’s opinion, not just because he was your best friend, but because he had led his fair share of interrogations during his time in the FBI. He was really good at it, his accelerated mind picking up patterns of words and behaviors that you could only be envious of.

“What do you mean ‘I’ have to get him talking? I thought this was a team effort.”

“It is, but you have to lead this interrogation.”

You weren’t surprised at his statement, but you resented the fact that he was right. Your favorite part of your job was the quick thinking, the on-the-fly deductions you had to make in the field that helped you put all of the clues together. You liked helping people and actively putting bad guys away for the greater good of the country you served. You were good at your job, too, having spent so much time developing your skills with arguably some of the best agents in the Bureau. You couldn’t not be good at your job surrounded by minds like the ones at the BAU.

Like everyone though, there were some aspects of your career that you were better at than others. You usually excelled in the takedown and arrests of suspects and left the mind games to your colleagues that were much better equipped to handle them. Sure, you could talk a suspect into putting their weapon down instead of pointing it at you or a victim, but that was a heat of the moment interaction. Cool, collected interrogation rooms just weren’t your strong suit, and nothing during your time at the BAU so far had changed it.

“You really think I can do this?”

“Absolutely. You have the skills, knowledge, and rapport to conduct this interview,” Spencer showed no hesitation in his answer.

“Promise to let me know if I’m going down the wrong rabbit hole?”

Spencer smiled, “of course. Let’s go solve this case.” He handed you a sheet of paper, a form for Daniel to sign with his Miranda rights on it.

Once you were seated across from Daniel, you handed him the paper and read him his rights.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Daniel, what happened between you and your father?”

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between you and Spencer, “what kind of FBI agents are you?”

“We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. We use psychology to solve crimes. I hope my question wasn’t intrusive, Doctor Reid and I both just noticed the way your behavior changed when you saw your father. He’s been helpful in our investigation and I don’t want any family conflicts to interfere if you’re going to help us too.”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Just a disagreement?” you pressed carefully.

“Just a disagreement.”

“Alright,” you said, deciding to leave it at that and move on. He was giving you too much resistance for the direction you had wanted to take the conversation, so you changed the subject. If his disagreement with his father was relevant to the case, you’d have to get that information out of him another way.

You started off by asking about Mia-Rose and gathering any information Daniel had about her. At first he was reluctant, just explaining that they saw each other during family gatherings and when his father would drive them both home from band practice.

“You went to the same high school then, if you were in band together?”

“Uh huh. It’s a small town, everyone goes to the same school.”

“Can you tell us about who Mia-Rose spent time with? Who were her friends?”

“Everyone was her friend. She was the friendliest kid in school.”

“Who were your friends?” Spencer asked, tilting his head. It wasn’t a question you had thought to ask, but as soon as he did you saw where he was going.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” Spencer answered.

“Alec Krause, Markus Sparrow, Nicolas Rush,” Daniel listed.

“Where are they now?” you asked while Spencer pulled out his phone, presumably to text Garcia for a background check, “are you still in contact with them?”

“They all moved out of town for college. Haven’t seen or talked to ‘em since,” Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“You were supposed to go to college, in Chicago, right?” you prompted. Daniel’s eyes flickered between you and Spencer, probably wondering how much about him you knew.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Got a job at the farm,” he shrugged.

“Daniel, I’m going to be real with you,” you squared up, “I’ve seen plenty of small towns in this job. I’ve talked to many people from small towns just like this one, and almost all of them in your position would have taken the out. They would have moved to the city as soon as they got the chance, so why didn’t you? Why did you choose to stay in this town?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Daniel was quick to correct you.

“You didn’t?” Now you were on to something.

“The disagreement I had with my father was about me leaving. He wouldn’t let me leave, so he got me the job at the farm.”

“Alright, let’s take a break,” you said, standing up and stepping out of the room. Spencer exchanged a few words with Daniel, then followed you out.

“That was big,” you panted, trying to shake out the jump of adrenaline that you were feeling.

“You’re doing great,” Spencer confirmed.

“When Dylan was talking about his son earlier, during his interview, it seemed like he didn’t have control over Daniel. What was it he said, ‘you know how kids are’? Something must have changed to make Daniel listen to his father telling him to stay, something that changed after Mia-Rose was murdered.”

Right before you were going to go back into the interrogation room, your phone rang. Hotch’s name lit up the screen.

“Hold on, Spence. (y/l/n),” you answered, praying that Hotch wasn’t going to tell you to abandon the case and get back to Quantico right when you were making strides.

“I’m just checking in to see how things are going.”

“We’re talking to a person of interest right now, it’s just very slow going. We think he had been working with a partner when the murder took place, but he’s not giving up names,” you explained, “please don’t tell me we have a case that we have to come back for, we just got a break that might open this case up for us.”

Hotch chuckled on the other end of the line, “no, we don’t have a case. Garcia told me you had a lead and I was curious.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you were a prosecutor before joining the BAU. This is exhausting, and every time I say something I feel like he’s going to invoke.”

“You’re doing fine,” Spencer whispered reassuringly.

“Spencer says I’m doing fine,” you relayed to Hotch.

“I’m sure you are. Sometimes unsubs like this take time to crack,” he reminded you.

“It’s already been thirty years, I’d like to close it now,” you decided, squaring your shoulders. “I’m going to go back in there and wrap this up. I’ll call you back when we’re done.” You hung up with Hotch, then turned to Spencer. “Let’s do this.”

Daniel seemed to tense up when you walked back in, sitting down across the table from him once again.

“Thanks for being patient, Daniel. I’d like to know why your father wouldn’t let you leave town. From what he told us, he gave you a lot of freedom in high school. What happened?”

“We had a disagreement, like I said.”

“Right, we’ve covered that. It must have been hard going from being able to do whatever you wanted to working a farm job under your father’s thumb. I was hoping you could tell us exactly what kind of disagreement. Was it because Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel nodded, “ok, that’s a start. Was there a specific reason beyond Mia-Rose’s murder?”

Your tactic was deliberate, validating his feelings before pressing harder in hopes that he would give something up.

“He didn’t want me getting into more trouble.”

“More trouble? As in, you got into trouble here first?”

“Correct.”

“We don’t have any police records for you, Mr. Godfrey. Usually that’s the kind of ‘trouble’ that stops kids from going to college,” Spencer chimed in.

“The police don’t know I was there.”

“Where?” Your question was burning hot, and you watched Daniel squirm as he realized he had dug himself into a hole.

“I was in the car.”

“Which car?” you hoped he meant the car you thought he did, but you needed a true confession.

“My father’s car…” you chose not to say anything and instead let him sit in uncomfortable silence, “the night Mia was killed.”

“With her? Was Mia in the car with you?”

“Yes, she was.”

You had to maintain your composure, even though your insides were doing cartwheels out of excitement. This was exactly the kind of lead you were looking for, you couldn’t blow it now.

“Your father said you were out with friends, were any of the people you mentioned earlier with you? Alec, Markus, and Nicholas?”

“No, it wasn’t with them.”

“Who else was in the car then, Daniel? It wasn’t just you and Mia-Rose.”

“I don’t remember,” he started backpedaling, a clear sign that you were closing in.

“We’re going to step out and give you some time to think about it, see if you can try to remember,” Spencer interrupted before you could say anything, nodding towards the door when you made eye contact with him. You followed him out, turning to him abruptly once the door was shut behind you.

“I was getting somewhere with him.” You were fired up, to say the least. Now that you were in the comfortable privacy of Spencer’s company, you could let your emotions come forward.

“I know, I know,” Spencer smirked, “Garcia got a hit with Daniel’s friends, we should call and see what she has so we have more leverage when we go back in there.”

You took a deep breath, pulling out your phone and calling Garcia.

“Boy Wonder got my text!” she answered after the first ring.

“What did you find, Garcia? We’re really making strides here and anything you’ve got could really close this for us.”

“I ran the names of Daniel’s friends, like you asked. Almost all of them checked out, normal guys with normal lives.”

“Almost all of them?” you caught the specificity of her words.

“Right. One of them, Markus, he checks out too… but his brother, oh my his brother has done some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Spencer asked, brows furrowed in thought.

“Kyle Sparrow. When he was 11 he attempted to rob a bank, and not just as a joke. When he was 14 he was suspended from school after locking students in storage closets. He’s been in and out of jail his whole adult life. He got out a year ago and hasn’t been back since.”

“That fits our profile. How old was he when Mia-Rose was killed?” Spencer followed up.

“That’s where things get weird, I was hoping you guys would have a good explanation because this really doesn’t make sense.”

“Garcia,” you called, refocusing her.

“Right. Kyle Sparrow was 10 years old when Mia-Rose was murdered.”

“What?” you whipped around to look at Spencer incredulously, hoping he would have some kind of information about child serial killers that would clarify the situation. Instead, he just frowned and shook his head. You had to decide if it was worth bringing up to Daniel and risk wasting precious time. You considered for a moment, then spoke. “Send us his address, we’re going to ask Daniel about him. If he seems like a viable lead then we’ll head out there. Thanks Garcia.”

“Done and done. You’ve got this, crimefighters!”

“Are you ready to go back in there?” Spencer asked when you reached for the interrogation room door handle.

“Do I have a choice? This case just took a turn that I wasn’t expecting.”

“It’s been four hours and thirty six minutes. We can take another minute to get coffee if you need a longer break,” he suggested.

“I’m too close to cracking this. I can feel it,” you confessed. Spencer nodded, acknowledging that your gut feelings were usually right. You opened the door, sitting back down across from Daniel. Spencer stood in the corner behind you, hands in his pockets.

“Did you remember who was in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?” Daniel shook his head. “Ok, that’s fine. I have some names that we’ve collected as people of interest for this case. I’m going to read them off and you tell me if one sounds familiar, ok?” Daniel nodded, so you opened your file and pulled out a blank piece of paper, holding it so Daniel couldn’t see the lack of information on your side.

“Emily Prentiss.”

He shook his head.

“Derek Morgan.”

Again, nothing.

“Penelope Garcia.”

Your list was intentional, listing people you were certain Daniel wouldn’t know so you could get a baseline for his behavior. It paid off when you listed the next name, “Kyle Sparrow.”

You could practically see Daniel tense up. Though he shook his head, his leg started bouncing nervously and his eyes were flickering frantically around the room, looking anywhere but at you and Spencer.

“Daniel,” you started, keeping your voice low, “remember when I told you Doctor Reid and I use psychology and behavior to solve crimes? You may not have noticed it, but your behavior shifted when you heard Kyle’s name. You know something about him, don’t you? Was he in the car with you that night?”

Daniel finally looked up at you, eyes watering, “I’m not a criminal.”

“I didn’t say you were. Was Kyle in the car with you the night Mia-Rose was murdered?”

“He was just a kid, my best friend’s little brother. We were out in my dad’s car, I had just gotten my license so I skipped class and took Markus and Alec for a spin around town. When I dropped them off back home Kyle said he was lookin’ to go across town to the library so I offered him a ride. I even made him sit in the back because he was still just a small kid. Then we saw Mia walking home. It always took her longer because she stopped to say hi to everyone she passed. Kyle suggested we offer her a ride too, so I did.

“It all happened so fast, first she was getting into the car and then Kyle had a knife at her throat. He told me he’d kill her if I didn’t do what he wanted. He made me drive out of town to the woods and watch as he tied her up and did horrible, horrible things to her. I didn’t even know a kid was capable of doing those things. When he was done with her he made me help put her back in the car and drive to the bridge. She wasn’t dead when he made me push her over the edge, that’s why I didn’t throw her in the river. I thought she’d survive it without Kyle knowing because he was too busy getting rid of her stuff in the trunk. He still made me drop him off at the library after, even though it was closed on account of it being real late at night, and swear that I’d never tell anyone what we did or he’d kill me too.”

“How did your father find out?” you asked.

“He found blood in the car the next morning. I told him it was from Markus, that he had gotten scratched up while we were messing around in the afternoon. He made me clean it out with bleach, told me I’d have to learn responsibility if I wanted to move out. When my auntie called him later and told him about Mia being missing, he connected the dots. He told me he didn’t want to know what I had been doing the night before, but if I tried to move away it would make me a suspect. He got me the job at the farm and I’ve been there ever since.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Daniel. We’ll tell the court how cooperative you’ve been, they might ease your sentence because of it.”

“The court? What?” Pure fear crossed Daniel’s face. It didn’t sit right with you that he had to be arrested, knowing he had been coerced into helping murder his cousin, but he had still committed a felony. You had to let the court decide his fate.

“Daniel Godfrey, you’re under arrest for accessory to the murder of Mia-Rose Horn,” Spencer moved behind Daniel, taking his hands to cuff them. As soon as he was done Daniel was passed off to an officer and you and Spencer took off, SUV keys in hand.

You sped towards the home address Garcia had sent you for Kyle Sparrow, wishing the rest of the team was there so you could split up in case he was at work. This part of your job was where you felt the most comfortable, the tactical side of an arrest that was more physical than the mind games you had just played in the interrogation room. It was just starting to rain, a light drizzle that darkened the skies as you drove to what you hoped was your final location for this case.

“Is there Kevlar in the back?” you asked, realizing you hadn’t gotten vests from the police station before you had left. Spencer turned around in his seat, checking around the vehicle.

“Nope.”

“Great,” you sighed, “let’s try not to get shot at then, alright?”

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer agreed.

You pulled up to Kyle’s house, which was more of a rundown shack on the outskirts of town. You drew your weapon as soon as your boots were on the ground, approaching the door cautiously.

“Where’s Morgan when you need him,” you mumbled, hoping you wouldn’t have to kick the door down, “Kyle Sparrow, FBI,” you announced, knocking on the door. A gunshot flew through the window next to you, shattering the glass. That was all the invitation you needed to bust open the door, but Kyle wasn’t in the room inside. You moved quickly through the maze of rooms, taking one side while Spencer took the other.

“Clear,” you called every time you ensured a room was empty. You heard Spencer clear a couple of spaces, then fall silent. You worked your way to the kitchen, finding him in a standoff with Kyle.

“I’m not going to jail again. You can’t make me,” Kyle seemed unreasonably calm, grinning slightly to himself while he pointed a pistol at Spencer.

“You’re wanted for the murder of Mia-Rose, Kyle. There’s no way to get out of this one,” you had to keep things simple for him and talk him down as quickly as possible before he shot at you again, “let’s just talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to jail for a person I killed thirty years ago.”

“There’s no other option. We know it was you, this ends here.”

“If I have to go back, it has to be for something better. You’re right, this ends here, but not because I killed Mia-Rose Horn.”

“How does it end, Kyle?” Spencer asked. You noticed the glint in Kyle’s eye, giving you a split second to push Spencer out of the way and get hit with a searing pain in your side. You heard Spencer’s revolver fire as you hit the floor.

“Get him first,” you grunted, putting a hand on your side to try to stem the bleeding. Spencer crouched next to you, worried eyes looking you over before he pulled your handcuffs out of your pocket. Your ears were ringing, but you could just make out the sounds of Spencer talking before you blacked out.

You woke up in the hospital, an all too familiar experience. Spencer was beside you, nose in a book. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention to it though, considering the way his brows were furrowed and his fingers were tapping against the cover. He was lost in thought somewhere, you just didn’t know where.

“Spence,” you managed to croak through your dry throat. His eyes shot up from the page, lips turning up in a small smile when his gaze met yours.

“Hi,” he practically whispered.

“Is Kyle dead?”

Spencer hesitated, no doubt weighing the value of telling you the outcome now or waiting until you were better rested. He chose the former, shaking his head.

“I did what you would have done and shot him in the hip. He’s not dead, and once he’s healed he’ll go to trial. You did it, (y/n). You solved the case.”

“We solved the case. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You also wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“So?” you shrugged, “I lived. Where’s Garcia? Usually she’s the first one at the hospital.”

Spencer’s smile returned, “she wanted to but a case came in right right after you went into surgery. She sends her love and said she’d make up for not being here when we get back to Quantico.”

“A case? We should get back to help,” though you were exhausted, you brain immediately went into profiling mode.

“No, you’re going to stay here and rest. You should be staying for longer than you’re going to, but I was able to convince your doctor that I was more than capable of making sure you got home safely.”

“I didn’t realize you were a rule-breaker,” you teased, feeling your eyelids droop.

“I’m not, I just thought you would want to go home as soon as possible. You’re not the kind of person who likes being away from their family, and we’ve already been gone three days. Staying here doing nothing, although it would be good for you, would just torment you more.”

“Thanks, Spence,” you murmured, falling back to sleep. You dozed on and off for the better part of the day, Spencer staying by your side the whole time. Towards the end of the afternoon, you woke up to his seat vacant. The immediate panic you felt was squashed by calculated thoughts, he’s probably getting food or in the bathroom. You fought to stay awake while you waited for him to come back. He surprised you by returning with someone behind him.

“Mrs. Horn wanted to talk to you, if you’re feeling up for it,” he said, resuming his position in the chair next to you. You nodded, watching the older woman enter the room from where she had been standing in the doorway.

“I wanted to thank you for finding my daughter’s killer, even though it put you in the line of danger.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” you reassured her, sitting up a little against your pillows.

“I wish her father could have been here to see it solved. He always told me not to lose faith, that a blessing would come our way. You were our blessing,” she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I was just doing my job, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to figure this out.”

Mrs. Horn tutted, telling you she was just glad that her daughter could rest in peace now. Before she left, she made sure to tell you that if you were ever in Illinois you and Spencer were welcome to come over for dinner, and that she hoped you got better quickly so you could go help other victims.

Once she was gone, your doctor came in to follow up with you. You had been shot in the side, the bullet passing through and exiting out of your back without hitting any major organs. Spencer did most of the talking for you, asking questions you couldn’t make sense of and checking over your chart for what was probably the hundredth time that day.

“You seem to be healing well and have a… knowledgable… support system, so I’m going to clear you for discharge. If anything changes you’ll need to go into the nearest hospital, ok?”

“Yes ma’am,” you answered. A nurse came in later with your discharge papers, which you signed before Spencer helped you in a wheelchair and out to where the SUV was parked.

“Are you sure you want to drive in this rain? I can-“ you winced in pain, hand flying to your side, “I can do it if you don’t feel comfortable.” Spencer stifled a laugh, reaching his hands out to give you something to brace yourself against as you moved from the wheelchair the SUV.

“I don’t mind driving,” he said simply.

“Yes you do,” you quipped quickly, exhaling as you settled into the passenger seat.

“Ok, yes. Under normal circumstances, I do mind driving, but I think I can make an exception when my favorite driver has been shot.”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” you smirked, still struggling to breathe in a way that would make your side hurt less.

“Are you warm enough?” Spencer fiddled with the heating knobs once he was settled behind the wheel. You nodded, but the shiver that ran down your body betrayed you.

“You’re the one driving. I want you to be comfortable,” you mumbled.

“You’re the one who just got shot. Here,” he reached behind him into the back where both of your go bags were stored. He unzipped his own and pulled out a cardigan, then leaned over the console to drape it across you. “The wool will help you retain heat.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, relishing in the comfort of his gesture.

“You didn’t have to take that bullet for me.”

“I did. I pulled you into this mess, I wasn’t going to let you get hurt because of it.”

“Hotch sent me with you so that you wouldn’t get yourself hurt,” he rebutted.

You brushed him off, “I’ve been shot before, I’m going to be fine.”

“I’ve also been shot before, you didn’t have to push me out of the way.”

You were quick to counter, “you didn’t have to push Blake out of the way either.”

It was an unnecessary squabble, a fact you both caught onto quickly once you realized the direction the conversation was going. Instead, Spencer changed the subject to explain the history of the small towns you were passing through on your way to the interstate.

Miraculously, once the car was comfortably cruising on the highway, Spencer fell silent. You suspected it had to do with his intense concentration on driving in the elements as the rain got harder, though he also could have been giving you the space to sleep if you needed to.

It wasn’t until you were over an hour into your journey that he spoke again, after a quick glance at you revealed fresh tear tracks down your cheeks under the passing street lights.

“(Y/n), are you crying?” His question was so soft you almost missed it, “is it the pain? You’re not due to take your meds for another three hours but I know you have ibuprofen in your bag that would be ok to take now. I can pull over-“ his hand was about to move back to the steering wheel from where it had come to rest on the console, but you reached out to grab it instead.

You and Spencer didn’t really ‘do’ physical contact. You both had reasons not to, instead finding comfort just in proximity. As long as he was around, you were happy. This time, though, it was different. Maybe it was because you were touch starved, or because you had just been poked and prodded at all angles while in the hospital. Whatever the reason, the light grip you had on Spencer’s hand to stop him from pulling over was enough to make you feel the tiniest bit better. He was there with you, he was real.

“It’s not the pain,” you managed to hold your composure, knowing that letting any kind of sob escape the confines of your soul would only physically hurt you more.

“Are you tired? I drank enough coffee to get us home by morning but if you really need to sleep we can find a hotel somewhere. There are three off the next exit.”

“Spencer,” you ran your thumb over the prominent vein in his hand, “it isn’t something you can fix.”

“What do you mean?” He was puzzled, and by the way his hands were twitching you could tell he was deciding whether or not to stop the car anyways.

“There are hundreds of thousands of cold cases. Hundreds of thousands of families that don’t have closure. Hundreds of thousands of victims that haven’t gotten justice.”

“There’s one less because of you. You made a difference to Mia-Rose’s family, you got her the justice she deserves.”

“She deserved justice thirty years ago. I feel like the system failed her, the very system I work for. She was just a kid, and the answer was right there the whole time. Why did I have to be the one to figure it out, thirty years too late?”

Spencer’s response was soft and gentle, “because you’re exceptional, (y/n).”

“I didn’t have to be exceptional to solve this case, though. That’s what I’ve learned from all of the cold case documentaries I’ve watched. The ones that get solved are because someone knew what happened and didn’t come forward about it until years later. There was a psychopathic kid on the streets for thirty years because the police didn’t think to talk to Daniel Godfrey.”

“We can’t change what happened in the past, but we can make a difference in our futures.”

“I’m just so tired, Spence. I chose this job, I love this job, but it’s exhausting.”

“Then rest, (y/n). It’s ok if the only person you save some days is yourself.”

He was right, of course. You wanted to keep saving others, but you couldn’t do that if you didn't make time to save yourself too. You finally closed your eyes and pulled his cardigan up to your chin. Though you were still conscious, limiting your sensory input helped calm you down enough that you found yourself flitting in and out of dissociation. Even when Spencer’s hand gently moved out from under yours to answer his phone, you kept your eyes closed.

“Hey JJ,” his voice was quiet, barely audible over the rain pounding against the windshield, “they’re doing ok.” He paused while he listened to JJ’s response. “No, they keep reminding me that it’s not the first time they’ve been shot. I’m worried about them though.” He trailed off.

“They’ve been shouldering this burden of over 185,000 cold cases since we started working on this one, and now that it’s solved they’re finally feeling the weight of it. I don’t want them to drive themselves crazy trying to solve all of them on their own. We deal with enough active cases as it is.”

Though you were barely in a state of mind to process his words, he had hit the nail right on the head.

“How is the case you’re working on?” You presumed JJ was filling him in on what they knew, “have Garcia look into large purchases of triacetone triperoxide… Call me if anything changes. We should be back by morning.”

“Yes,” his change in tone indicated that JJ had asked him a question, “that would be great, JJ. Thank you so much.”

He must have hung up with JJ because his hand found yours again, fingers just barely touching. It was a simple action, loaded with a lot of meaning. Spencer was your best friend, and would always be your best friend. Bullets, cold cases, marriages, there was nothing that could break the bond you had with him.

You didn’t understand why people called their significant others their “better half”. It insinuated that you weren’t a whole person to begin with, a fractured existence that only found completion by the means of someone else. The idea that your life couldn’t be fulfilling until someone else made it whole was a concept that was set up for failure and self-loathing.

Instead, you believed that you were a whole person who could live a fulfilling life without the necessity of another. Instead, you surrounded yourself with people who lifted you up and helped you achieve your goals without being the direct cause of your success. Instead, you followed your dreams and somehow found Spencer Reid along the way.

Spencer was your best friend, your confidant, the one person who you knew you couldn’t live without, but he was not your other half. He was his own whole person, a mirror image of your own being. You found solace in his companionship, safety in the complexities of his brain. When the stress of your job got to be too much, you could reliably turn to each other and exist in the little slice of the world you called yours for a moment.

No, he was not your other half. He wasn’t even yours, for that matter, but he was there. He was there in a capacity that nobody else could achieve.

This is part of my GALAXY universe! If you liked this relationship, check out the MASTERLIST for more content!

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection @thatsonezesty13 @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @bazzleslynn @tj-drinks-tea @willa-wonky @eddiesbifocals @tee-mbrown @reniescarlett @bone-hurty-bitch @messyacademia

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #platonic imagine #platonic soulmates

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 4 years ago

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This Christmas - A Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 3)

Two life long friends. Secretly in love. Home for the holidays. Will they risk everything by telling the other how they feel? Or will they spend another year loving from afar?

Read these first Prologue Part 1 Part 2

It was now morning and you stared at the blank document in front of you. You have now written the first twelve chapters and you’ve hit a wall. A big, huge fucking wall. You had been trying to write now for well over an hour and you just couldn’t come up with anything. You made a few notes as to what you wanted to happen, but figuring out how point a leads to point c… you were blanking.

You finally decided to take a break, sneaking inside the house and making breakfast. It was still quite early, so you thought it would be nice to do the cooking while you were staying there. You searched around for ingredients and pans you would need. Of course, there was something on the very top shelf you couldn’t reach. You sighed, standing on your tippy toes, barely able to grab it. You just needed a few more inches and you would have been able to get it.

However, just before you decided to go and grab a chair, you felt a heated weight pressed against you and a tattooed hand grabbing the item for you.

“I see you haven’t grown much since we were twelve,” Harry smirked in your ear.

Goosebumps covered your skin while your face heated up, “Fuck off,” you smirked back, pushing him off of you.

You turned around seeing him standing there wearing nothing but a pair of jogging pants and some crazy bed head.

“New style you’re going for there?” You smirked, walking past him and over to the counter.

“I still haven’t heard a thank you,” he pointed out.

“Thank you for being a foot taller than me, so that you could reach the flour for me,” you joked.

“I believe you should be thinking my Mum and Dad for that,” he winked.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “What are you doing up this early anyway?”

“Jet lag,” he shrugged.

“Right,” you said. “So, what part of the world did you travel from this time?”

You poured out each of the ingredients while Harry watched you.

“LA,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right, the movie,” you said, nodding. “How’d that go?”

“It was great,” he said. “I loved it.”

“Any spoilers?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I could ask you the same thing, Ms. Netflix special,” he said, leaning up against the counter. “Congrats on that by the way.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “And I would totally give you spoilers but nothing is going on with it yet. They’re still casting some of the characters.”

“Speaking of, I’m hurt you didn’t offer me the starring role,” he joked.

“And make your head even bigger, no thank you,” you giggled.

“Well, I mean I do seem to have an awful lot in common with your main love interest,” he pointed out.

You froze, staring at the mixture in the bowl, trying to figure out what the next step would be. However, your hesitation pretty much proved he was right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you squeaked.

“I’m just teasing you,” he smirked, knocking your shoulder with his. “But you have to admit there are a few similarities.”

“Your point?” You asked.

“No, point,” he said. “Just dropping a hint on the next time Netflix comes your way, I’m available.”

“Wait… is The Harry Styles coming to me for a job?” You gasped. “Is the bank account drying up that quickly?”

“Ha. Ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Since you’re going to make fun of me, I guess I’ll just go back to sleep and let you make pancakes all by yourself.”

“That was the plan all along,” you pointed out.

“Okay then… I’m going,” he said, staring at you.

“Okay, then go,” you smirked, shooing him out.

“Oh, come on,” he whined. “You know you want my help.”

“You can put the flour back on the top shelf,” you told him as you finished mixing the batter for the pancakes.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the rest of the ingredients and putting them back in their proper places. As he did this, he caught himself glancing over in your direction. His gaze dropping down the length of your body and back up again. You were wearing leggings and a large jumper with the sleeves pushed up. Your hair was yet again in a messy bun with strands of hair sticking out around your face.

The real reason Harry was awake so early wasn’t purely from jet lag, but from having a dream about you. The last few weeks, you had been on his mind more than usual, but ever since seeing you again you were all he thought about. More specifically, he thought about the time he walked in on you in the bathtub the other night. He thought what it would have been like to join you to feel your skin against him.

And there he was again, thinking about you. He really needed to stop or else he was going to have another problem.

“Harry!” You snapped your fingers in front of his face.

“Oh, yeah, what? Sorry,” he said, shaking the thoughts from his head.

“You okay over there?” You asked. “You kinda spaced out for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah, great,” he said as his face blushed a shade of pink.

“Can you heat up the veggie sausage?” You asked.

“Sure, sure,” he said.

You looked over at him as he fumbled around. You held back a giggle as you watched him. While you were finishing up the pancakes, your mind started to wander into the thoughts of if mornings would always be like this if you and Harry had ever given a relationship a try. You may never know in real life, but this was your little glimpse into what could have been and you weren’t sure if it was a good thought or a bad one.

Later that afternoon, you finally managed to write and finish an entire chapter. You still weren’t where you wanted to be, but progress was progress at this point. It was around lunch time, so you were just finishing up getting ready to go out with Harry. You weren’t sure what was on the agenda, but you were looking forward to it. You also made a mental note that tomorrow you needed to visit your mum for a bit because it was kinda rude that you were spending time with Harry and Anne when you told your mother you were going to be working the whole time.

Which you were, most of the time, but you still needed to go see her. Anyway, while you were getting ready you received a text from your editor asking about how things were going with the book.

Hey, Y/N! Just checking in to see how things are coming along.

Hey! Things are… going. I am writing and I’ve gotten quite a bit done in the last few days. Once I’m finished with the first fifteen, I’ll send them your way, sound good?

Perfect. I can’t wait to see what you came up with!

Let’s hope you still feel that way once you’ve read them. Ha!

After a few more texts back and forth, you double checked yourself in the mirror before grabbing your coat and heading out to meet Harry. You didn’t have to walk very far because he was already out the door of the main house, carrying a few bags with him.

“Um, are we taking a road trip for lunch?” You laughed.

“Nope,” he said. “But we do need some essentials.”

“Food better be included in that because I’m starving,” you said.

“It wouldn’t be lunch without food,” he said in a duhh tone.

You rolled your eyes, “Anyway, where are we going that we need all of these essentials, whatever that means.”

“You’ll see,” he smirked. “Now, let’s get going.”

The two of you walked out of the backyard and walked towards the walking trail that connected to the end of the street. The walk was filled with silence from the two of you, but it was refreshing. Any awkwardness that started out between you was now creeping away and everything felt like no time had passed.

It was strange really, but then again it was you and Harry. About twenty minutes later, you and Harry arrived at the nearby park, where he placed the bags on a picnic table. He took out a blanket that he used to cover the table in two shorter ones to place on the benches connected to it. Next, he took out containers of food filled with fruit, sandwiches, and crisp spreading them over the table. Finally, he took out some drinks before looking over at you.

“Lunch is served,” he smirked holding his hand out.

“Wow, you really went all out, didn’t you?” You laughed sitting down on one side while he took a seat across from you.

“Eh, I figured this was better than going into town,” he said.

“Do people still come up to you here?” You asked, popping a strawberry in your mouth.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Most of the time things are pretty chill and people just want to chat me up, see how I’m doing. And then others, usually the younger generation are the ones who are a bit more… uh… “

“Annoying? Bothering you?” You added.

“Basically, yeah,” he nodded with a laugh.

“One… hearing you say the younger generation really makes me feel old,” you laughed. “And two, how do you get used to random people just coming up to you like that. Occasionally, I’ll have someone say hi to me… but that’s very rare.”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. It comes with the territory I guess.”

“I guess you have been dealing with it for over a decade,” you said. “Which is still hard to believe.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “I still can’t believe it and I’ve lived it. There’s so much I’ve already done that sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m only twenty six and still have a lot of life left to live.”

“You’ve definitely done and seen more than most people our age,” you nodded. “Is that why… you tend to spend more time with other uh… celebrities because they understand that part of your life?”

Harry sighed, putting his sandwich down as he thought over his words, “In the beginning yes. I had all these thoughts of who I was supposed to be, or where I was supposed to be or who I was supposed to be seen with. I kinda lost myself and what I wanted to do in it. Like I used to think I had to live in LA because that’s what everyone did when they made it, but now I can’t stay there more than a few weeks at the most.”

You nodded, taking a bite of your own sandwich in response.

“I don’t want to say that’s what happened with us,” he started. “But I can’t lie either. The truth is, I don’t know what happened, really. Things got overwhelming and I just... “

“Stopped calling?” You finished for him.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“I’ll admit, when our friendship kinda just ended… I was pissed. I was hurt. I hated you for a good little bit. I was jealous whenever I saw you out with other friends or at all these exclusive parties. I thought I wasn’t good enough to be in your life anymore. Like I was the past and that’s where I was supposed to stay,” you whispered. “But then I realized, I was also to blame. The phone works both ways and I never tried to call or text you again. I could have tried one more time and maybe that would have been the time and we wouldn’t have lost years out on our friendship.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe I would have still been an ass and everything would have stayed the same.”

“Guess we’ll never know, huh?” You asked.

“Good thing that’s in the past, right?” He asked, hopefully.

“Yeah, it is,” you smiled.

You and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon at the park talking about everything. It was like you two were trying to make up for all the years you hadn’t talked and in a way you two were. When you were done talking, you walked along the park, which quickly turned into a little game of running around and jumping on his back, just like old times.

By the time you both headed back home, it was getting dark. Houses covered in Christmas lights lit up the night sky and the two took a bit of a detour looking at all of the decorations. There were times you caught yourself looking at Harry more than looking at the different lights and decorations set ups. Your head and your heart were having a severe disconnect at the moment.

Your head was trying to be all logical and warning you about letting your guard down. Old feelings you had previously suppressed were slowly coming up, but your head kept trying to push them down. Your heart, however, kept fluttering whenever he would laugh or your hands would slightly brush up against one another. After a bit, you found yourself clenching your fist because the want to grab his hand and lace his fingers with yours was becoming unbearable.

If only you knew, Harry was feeling the same way. He glanced at you, smiling to himself as he watched the lights glowing over your skin. Being with you today further proved that he was in love with you. He realized then, he couldn’t hold back his feelings from you much longer and he didn’t want to, he had to get them out.

Harry stopped all of a sudden looking over at you, “Y/N…”

“Yeah, H?” You asked, turning around to look at him.

“I-” he started.

“Everything okay?” You asked.

“I-I,” he stuttered out. “I’m really glad we’re doing this…. Reconnecting… and shit.”

“I am, too,” you smiled.

Harry forced a smile, mentally kicking himself in the ass for chickening out as the two of you finished the rest of the walk back to the house.

Uh oh! Who do you think will be the first one to finally admit their feelings?

Find out in PART 4, posted tomorrow at Midnight CST. :)

#Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles Fics #Harry Styles Christmas Series

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toloveawarlord · 4 years ago

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Ch. 1

Pairing: Wren Blackwell x Jonah Clemence

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @starry-starry-night24 @youreawizardharr (please let me know if you want to be tagged!)

A/N: Day 4 of the 12 Days of OCmas! Are Wren and Jonah as Star Crossed and Wren believes?

The tinkling of the bell above the door signaled their arrival. Too early for incoming influx of captains and merchants with documents to be reviewed and approved. Another two hours should have been free to work on overhauling the filing system that her boss had struggled to keep in order. She didn’t need to rush after hearing her son exclaim the visitor’s names.

“Uncle Fenrir! Uncle Ray!” The ten-year old’s voice echoed through the small building laced with surprise and joy. Abandoning his schoolwork for a chance to spend time with his two uncles. Amber eyes sparkled up at the two. Rarely did he get a visit from his family.

Fenrir beamed a grin at him, accepting the welcoming hug. “Reece, ya got taller!” He stopped by any time he came down to the ports, pitching in to help if Wren needed it.

Which meant today must be business. Never did Ray come by her work without warning. Placing down the files in their proper piles, Wren maneuvered through the chaos to emerge from the office. “Reece, you can go out for a break.” She didn’t want him to hear any military discussions, lest he want to join.

“Come on, I’ll buy ya a treat if it’s alright with your mom,” Fenrir offered to the eager boy, glancing to her for the okay.

It was like looking at two needy puppies. “That’s fine.” As Reece raced out the front door, Wren called to the ace with a serious tone. “No guns this time. I’ll kick your ass if you even think about it.”

She received a salute paired with wicked grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“This time?” Ray questioned, emerald eyes moving from the vacant doorway to his sister.

“Reece is becoming increasingly interested in weapons ever since he was allowed to shoot Fenrir’s gun,” Wren replied with irritation. She’d agreed to teaching her son a little hand-to-hand combat for self-defense. At no point, had permission been given for him to wield a weapon.

Ray chuckled at her frown. “I count myself lucky that Fenrir came away in one piece.” His memories of a protective older sister when they were but children resurfaced with nostalgia. Though she came across as calm and collected, she possessed incredible fighting skill that could rival some of his chosen thirteen.

The army would gain much if Wren agreed to join, but he knew that she would never, not with her son to protect.

The two moved into the messy office for privacy. Wren cleared a spot on the desk to sit while Ray claimed the only empty armchair. “What are you looking for?”

“Shipping manifests that could pass initial inspection but might be importing contraband.”

Wren cast a glance over the organized mess. “I’ll look into it. Though, it will undoubtedly take me a few hours. What is it that’s being smuggled in?” If she had a frame of reference, then it would make the search much easier.

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you that.” The investigation now a joint one. He’d have to explain to the Reds why he involved a civilian in a sensitive, top secret mission.

“If I know what I’m looking for, the box size and contents will be much simpler to find.”

Ray shifted to cross his legs, mulling over his options. Trust wasn’t the issue. He knew Wren would be discrete and quick. But involving her meant bringing up her name at the meeting with Red Army late tonight. Was it better to have some information than come up empty with those smug bastards?

“Stop worrying. I want to help, so let me.”

He sighed. “Tainted magic crystals. They’re small enough to go undetected but a single one can cause massive damage. If the calculations are even slightly correct, the influx that has been reported could destroy half of Cradle. Wren, you don’t have to agree to this. I understand if you want me to walk away.”

A dire situation. Time sensitive.

Wren could see why he’d been hesitant to tell her. Part of her, the mother part, wanted to tell him no. Becoming involved opened her and Reece up to being targets. Her common sense wanted her to walk away.

But Ray would only come to her with something so dangerous if it weren’t his last option.

“I’ll do what I can.”

The King of Spades relaxed at her agreement. “Thanks, sis. I’ll assign a soldier to keep watch here and at your home. Just as a precaution.” His gaze flickered to the large clock sitting on the wall. They’d made a detour here.

“Go on. I know how busy you are. I’ll come by with whatever I find,” Wren said with a wave of her hand. They hardly saw each other but on a few of his off days.

After the two officers left, Wren gathered all the shipping manifests that were within the last few months to pour over at home. She only took a break to cook a light meal and eat with her son before it was back to examining the documents.

Night had settled in by the time she discovered anything significant. There were a handful of suspect items that had been flagged, but only one stood out. Regardless of her gut feeling, Wren took all of the evidence and would allow them to mark off the ones that were unneeded.

“Reece, I’m going to take some things to Ray. I’ll be back later-”

“I wanna come!” He cut her off, abandoning his schoolwork to scramble over the back of the couch. Amber eyes as big as a puppy, begging to for permission.

Wren reached out and brushed her hand through his red hair. Normally, it would be alright, but she wanted him nowhere near this case. “Not this time. I won’t be gone long. Stay here, okay?”

“Aww, but mom!” Reece protested with a frown.

“Please don’t fight me on this, Reece.” She pressed a kiss to his head as she gave him a tight hug. To admit it would be too hard, but there were more reasons than simply his safety from outside threats that she worried about.

<< << <<

Soldiers at the gate had redirected her to Central Quarter. The two armies had convened, and she’d have to find Ray there. The neutral zone hadn’t changed much. Wren only came when she absolutely needed to. She’d chosen to live in the port town of Black Territory, far away from anyone in Red Territory.

The meeting had come to a close by the time she arrived. She’d been greeted by the 10 of Spades on his way out with a tip of his hat. Wren stayed in the foyer of the Civic Center, finding a nice pillar to hide behind. The Jacks exited next and following them the Queens.

Their boots were all that echoed throughout the large room. Their dislike for each other well known. As one came to a stop, so did the other. “Who’s there? The Civic Center is closed. You’re trespassing.”

Ten years.

It had been ten years since she’d heard that voice.

And it still caused her heart to throb painfully inside her chest.

His steps grew closer.

If she continued to hide, it would reflect poorly. Wren moved from her spot behind the pillar. With stiff movements, she passed Jonah without a word, instead moving to Sirius. “I brought what the King of Spades asked for. I was only waiting for him to come down.”

“He mentioned that. I’ll deliver them for you.” Sirius took the compiled documents and headed back for the stairs. He cast a worried glance back over his shoulder, but the woman was already heading for the door.

Don’t look back. Keep walking.

Her palm pressed against the door, but cool fingers wrapped around her other wrist. Wren tensed at his touch, wanting to pull away but found herself unable to.

“I’m owed an explanation.”

He was right.

“You drop out of school and disappear for ten years.”

Her reason one that he wouldn’t understand.

“Wren! Look at me!” A gentle, but firm command.

Emerald green met beautiful molten amber.

Wren swallowed down the lump in her throat. It hurt more than she’d imagined it would. Strong emotions that she’d bottled up and shoved deep into her heart, rattled in their cage, threatening to burst out. If they did, she feared she’d lose all control. “We were dumb kids, who didn’t understand that it would never work.”

Not even she believed the words that passed her lips.

“How could you possibly know that?” He wore so many emotions. Hurt. Confusion. Anger. She’d vanished. The day prior they were sneaking off during a break to be alone, and the next, gone. No explanation. No note. “I searched for you. I went into Black Territory against my families wishes-”

His family the catalyst of her disappearance.

But she couldn’t reveal that.

“Jonah, we’re different people now. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and if we’re being completely honest, the Queen of Hearts could never be with the King of Spades older sister. One thing or another always got in our way.” Whether it be his family or the Red Territory fan girls who hounded her for even speaking to him back in school. His duties joining the army would have broken them apart, and once Ray became the King, that would have done them in as well. “It’s for the best.”

He was still the Jonah she’d fallen in love with. His brows creased, not willing to accept that he couldn’t have everything that he wanted. “Did you think me not enough to protect you?”

It had little to do with protection. Wren tugged her hand free, shaking her head. “You would never go against your family.” She turned and shoved the door open to escape into the chilled night air. Pain blossomed across her chest. Her legs threatened to give out.

Return to Black Territory and try to forget.

As if it worked the last ten years.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He couldn’t simply give in. None of his questions had been answered. Jonah followed; his voice drenched in confusion. “This isn’t about my parents. You left me, Wren! Without so much as a word. I deserve to know why!”

She clenched her fists and whirled around to face him. “It’s always been about them, Jonah! Do you have any idea how many times your mother found a way to make my life miserable? She’s the one who had me pulled from your class, turned my teachers against me, and she tried to pay me off when--” Wren caught herself before she blurted out the one thing she refused to speak of. Emerald irises fell away from the shock on his features.

Their raised voices had drawn the attention of the Jacks loitering by the fountain and with them, someone who was meant to be at home.

“Pay you off for what?” Jonah couldn’t think of a single thing that would require an exchange of money.

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t take the money, but I did leave. It’s over, Jonah. I think it’s better if we just pretend we’re strangers.”

“No. I refuse to leave things this way-”

A small hand slipped into hers. Reece wore a concerned expression. He’d never seen her so upset. “Mom?” He’d disregarded her wishes, following her all the way to Central Quarter, where he’d never been before.

Jonah glanced between the two. “Mom? You have a son?” It was dark but the moonlight illuminated the boy well enough.

Matching amber eyes met for the first time.

The missing piece walked right into the puzzle.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #jonah clemence #ray blackwell #fenrir godspeed #reece blackwell #wren blackwell #star crossed lovers

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softboywriting · 5 years ago

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Christmas Lights | Peter Mendes | Mendes Triplets AU

Summary: Taking a chance on Peter Mendes may be the best thing you do this Christmas. [fluff] [triplet au] [college au]

Word Count: 4k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Making friends on campus is hard when you don't know a single soul in the town you've moved to. St. Augusta college has the exact major program you've been looking to get into. You spent two years back home at your community college doing your prerequisites since it was far cheaper than doing four to six years at St. Augusta. The only downside to college in a small town is that everyone seems to know each other and they aren't really looking for new friends.

Christmas is approaching and you've been planning on going home for the holidays but you can't exactly leave your cat alone in your apartment for a few days. Bugs is not exactly one for traveling either, so a three hour car ride home would be absolute hell. You decide to stay, to wish your family Merry Christmas via video chat and open presents with them that way. Well. That's the plan anyway.

Thursday, four days before Christmas, you win tickets to go see the light display at the park in town. It's a huge event and people come from all over to see it. You honestly didn't think you would win and you only entered because you figured it would be something fun to do other than sit around your apartment and watch Netflix.

When you pick up the tickets at the administration office you find out that it's a pair of them. Wonderful. You've got no one to go with. For a moment you wonder if you should just give them back, to have the secretary redraw the winner. Surely a couple would love these. You know if you were still with your ex boyfriend you'd love to. No. You'll find someone to go with.

So the hunt for a companion begins. You text the girl you talk to in your psychology class, having her number from a project you worked on together a few weeks ago. She's got plans. You text your friend Amie back home to see if she wants to drive up for the weekend and hang out. Nope. Her car is broken down. Just when things look bleak you remember the community board in the courtyard of your apartment complex. There were always postings on there for lost dogs, tutoring, and private classes of all sorts. Why not just see if someone wants to go with you?

You get back to your place and take a seat at the computer. Bugs jumps up on your lap and headbutts your stomach. "You wanna go with me Bugs?"

He meows.

"Yeah I didn't think so. I'd probably look like a freak walking my cat on a leash."

He purrs, flopping over on his side and covering your legs.

You open up a blank document and sigh. Alright. This may be a new low for you, but hey, maybe you'll make a really good friend. You type up the flyer and even add a few clip arts of Christmas lights along the bottom. It has your school email address on it in case anyone wants to contact you. You were going to put your number on there but thought better of it. You don't want some douchebag sending you nudes or something.

One brisk sprint to the community board outside later and you've got it posted. Now you wait. If no one replies then you'll go alone and give your spare ticket to some kid in line at the display. Here goes nothing.

____________________

Saturday morning you wake up with you phone blinking with a notification. You grab it and slide up to unlock. It's your email. Your school email. A surge of excitement courses through you and you're hoping someone has replied to your bulletin.

You open the app and flip through some emails from your teachers about assignments due after the holiday break. Sure enough there is one that's from a student. You can tell because it doesn't have a name attached as a contact like the staff emails do. It just says unread from [email protected].

Hi, I'm Peter. I saw your post on the community board. If you're still interested I would like to go.

You chew on your lower lip, nervous about going. What if this guy is a creep? You can bring your pepper spray. Maybe you can assess him by showing up early to the community board and seeing if he looks like a weirdo. Not all creeps look like a creep though. Okay. You're not being fair. Not all guys are bad, besides if you don't reply to the email, he probably won't show up right? He'll just think you've found another companion.

All day you contemplate emailing Peter back. Do you want to go with a guy? Maybe you should wait and see if a girl wants to go. But then again, you didn't specify your gender on the posting. So he doesn't even know if you're a guy or girl. Well that changes things. You're gonna do it.

Around dinner time you email Peter back. You tell him to meet you at the board on Christmas Eve around six and that you're going to be wearing a white coat. You still don't reveal your gender, just in case. _____________________

The time has come. You put on your puffy white coat, boots and a pair of gloves. You give Bugs some kibble and head out to the community board in the courtyard. There aren't very many people out there, a few groups of people talking near the decorated trees at every corner of the yard. There is no one by the board and you're kind of disappointed but relieved. Maybe he would flake out.

"Hey, are you the one with the tickets?"

You turn and you're met with a guy quite a bit taller than you. He's got a mop of curly brown hair, flushed cheeks covered in freckles and greenish hazel eyes behind some cute round glasses. He's in a bulky pink hoodie with a jean jacket over it just like he said he would be. He looks familiar, you're pretty sure he's in one of your classes.

"Peter?"

"That's me." He pulls his hand from his hoodie pocket and you shake it. "I'm so glad you replied back. I really want to see the lights, I just don't have the extra cash for a ticket this year."

You smile big and he grins right back. "I'm glad you replied too. I didn't really want to go alone."

"Then why'd you buy the tickets?"

"I didn't. I won them."

"Oh! Gotcha. Well, let's go? We don't want to miss it."

"Right. Do you want to walk or..." You look over at your car in the lot and wonder how much gas you have.

Peter shrugs. "It's a short walk. Like twenty minutes tops?"

"Probably, and I wore my boots." You look down at your old black snow boots. "They're pretty comfortable for walking."

"Let's get to it then!" Peter says excitedly, patting your shoulder. "No time to waste."

_____________________

The walk to the park proves very interesting. You learn that Peter is studying to be a photographer and does photos for the school newspaper while also doing some freelance work on the side for a couple of students with blogs. Both of you love hot chocolate with cinnamon in it. You both love the color pink, and you both have cats. His is a girl named Peach after Princess Peach from Super Mario. He is also in your business management class, and you can't believe you didn't pay more attention to him. He's so cute.

When you get to the park you show your tickets at the booth and they let you skip the line to get in. Once inside you can't believe how much it has changed since you visited once as a kid. There is a ten foot tall reindeer, life-size snowmen with tophats, and a small replica of the eiffel tower that's all lit up with tiny star shaped lights and a big star on top. It's incredible.

Peter tugs your arm and you follow him over to where an old woman dressed as Mrs. Claus is handing out flyers. "We have to do the scavenger hunt."

"The what?"

"Hello! Join the scavenger for a special surprise at the end of tour of lights!" Mrs. Claus says, handing a flyer to you and a few kids who are nearby.

You look over the list. "Find Santa's belt, Rudolf's nose, the elves stockings, Mrs. Claus's glasses, and the magic Christmas bell. Take a photo with each object and show at the end of the tour for a special Christmas surprise."

Peter takes the list and looks like a kid in a candy store. "They changed it up this year. This is going to be so much fun."

You can't help but smile. Peter has turned out to be the best companion you could have hoped for so far. "What is the prize at the end?"

Peter looks up from the list. "No clue. It changes every year. Last year I got a stocking."

"Oh that's actually kind of cool. I figured it'd just be like one of those big candy cane sticks or something."

"Nah, they go all out." Peter looks around the park. "We should start the hunt, we don't want to be the last ones to find everything."

"Why not?"

"They could run out of prizes for the night. Plus, I want to stop by the elves workshop and get some hot cocoa." Peter puts his arm out and you take it, looping yours under his. "Let's do this thing."

_____________________

The scavenger hunt is a blast. You and Peter literally comb through every display trying to find the items on the list. So far you have found the elves stockings and Mrs. Claus's glasses. Rudolph's nose is your next target as you head for the sleigh display.

Just as you reach the sleigh you see the last person you ever expected to see. Your ex boyfriend Blaine. He's got his latest fling on his arm, some tiny little thing with dark hair. Honestly you have no idea why he ever dated you. Every girl he's dated since you, there's been five in the last nine months, has been your polar opposite. You're not sure if it's him trying to not think of you or if it's that those girls are his type and you just weren't.

"Can we look for Santa's belt?" You ask, stopping mid stride and Peter looks back, clearly confused.

"We're right here though?"

"I know...I just don't want to do this one yet."

Peter walks back to meet you and crosses his arms. "You're avoiding someone."

"What? No, I-"

"Oh come on. Who is it? Family? Ex best friend? Ex boyfriend?" He looks around at the people nearby.

You sigh and roll your eyes. "It's my ex boyfriend if you must know. I'm surprised he's here considering our hometown is three hours away."

"Oh, dramatic." Peter puts his arm around your shoulders. "Which one is he?"

"The guy over there with the Steelers hat on with the girl attached to his arm." You point out Blaine, clear as day.

Peter nods and pushes his glasses up. "He looks like a douchebag."

"He is."

"Why'd you date him?"

"Small town? He was the best I could get?"

"Ouch." Peter laughs. "Well, you wanna make him jealous? I can be your pretend boyfriend for a while."

You look Peter over and he holds his arms out. "You are way more handsome, and you're definitely bigger." You chew on your lower lip. "I do want to get back at him."

"I'm all yours." Peter laughs. "Sounds like he really hurt you. I'm all about getting back at a douchebag."

"Alright. Yeah. Why not?"

Peter wraps his arms around you and walks you toward the sleigh display. He grabs your gloved hands and holds them close to your chest. It's actually nice. You haven't been held since you were with Blaine.

"There's Rudolf!" You point to the front of the light display and sure enough it's Rudolph but his nose isn't lit up.

Peter pulls you toward a big present box nearby. It's got a lid like a chest. He lifts it up and you grab the huge pom pom like ball out of it. Rudolph's nose.

"Wanna pose for a picture together?"

"Yes." You pull out your phone and hold it out while Peter leans down behind you, both of you holding the pom pom as you make goofy face and snap the picture.

"Oh hey," Blaine says as he approached with his girlfriend. "Crazy seeing you here."

Peter wraps his arm around you and holds you against him, pressing his face into your hair. "Do we know you?" What a power move.

"Crazy? I go to school here." You roll your eyes.

"This is your ex?" Peter asks, as if you hadn't already told him. He's playing along very well.

"Yes." You lean your head back against Peter's chest. "Why are you here Blaine?"

"Date night." Blaine grins, kissing his girlfriend grossly and for way too long. "It's so romantic here, and Christmas Eve is the perfect time to see a light display. I couldn't imagine bringing my beautiful girl anywhere else."

Peter rubs your side obviously reading into how tense you've gotten with Blaine's asshole demeanor. "Isn't it the best? I brought her here for our six month anniversary." He looks over at you with a smile, having really put emphasis on six months and you bite your lip. "We're going to dinner afterwards, the steakhouse on tenth street. They do a Christmas Eve special for couples. Reservation only."

Blaine looks annoyed, and one upped. Which, honestly he has been because Peter is really selling the lie. "Funny, we were gonna do that too. Guess we'll see you there."

"Really?" Peter grins. "Because the only restaurant on tenth street is a McDonald's. Get over yourself and stop being a dick in front of your ex."

Your jaw drops and Peter threads his fingers between yours. He walks you away from Blaine and you can't help but let out a laugh in astonishment. Peter just destroyed him in a matter of seconds like it was nothing.

"I can't believe you did that," you say, looking back at Blaine and his girlfriend who's yelling at him about something. Probably for embarrassing her.

"Yeah, well, he was being a dick. You could tell he was trying to rub in that he was on a date with someone who wasn't you. I can't stand guys like that."

You lean your head against Peter's arm. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that, I could have just walked away."

"What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't defend my fake girlfriend?" He laughs and you laugh too. What a crazy night it's been.

_____________________

You and Peter finish the scavenger hunt and go to the prize booth to show your photos. The worker hands you both a lidded box that's wrapped up like a present and you step aside to open it and see what you got.

"Fuzzy socks!" You squeal, holding up a pair of fluffy candy cane striped socks. "These are awesome!"

Peter opens his box and he's got a pair to but they're green and red. "I'm not sure these will fit me, but you can have them." He looks down and sticks his tennis show clad foot out. "Maybe they will?"

"You'll have to see." You turn in your gift box at the little drop off bin for people who don't want to take it with them. "I suppose it's time to go back home now."

"Yeah." Peter pushes his glasses up. "I had a great time. Thanks for letting me go with you."

You chuckle. "I almost went alone. I didn't know if you were some creep or not. I'm glad I did email you back though. You're pretty cool."

"You are too. And I promise I'm not a creep." Peter crosses his fingers. "Swear I'm normal."

"You're a goof."

"Yep. That's me." He loops his arm under yours and the two of you head for the apartment complex. You really are glad you decided to say yes to him. This night was incredible, even though you saw Blaine, it was still great.

_____________________

"Any plans for Christmas?" Peter asks as the two of you stand outside the front door to your building.

"Nope. Just me and Bugs video chatting my parents some time in the afternoon. They've sent me a few gifts in the mail so I've got some stuff to open."

Peter runs a hand over his hair and bites his lip. "Well, if you wanted to, my brothers and I are making breakfast and stuff. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I brought a guest over."

"Do your brothers live with you?"

"Yeah," he turns and points at the building to the left of yours. "We share one of the penthouse apartments."

"Fancy." You raise your eyebrows. "Those things are like super expensive."

Peter smiles sheepishly. "They are, but all three of us have full ride scholarships and Raul got a massive grant. We all pay our part from our grants pretty much but Raul pays a little more since he wanted the big apartment."

"Ah, I see. Well...can I get your number? I'll text you if I am able to make it?"

Peter pulls out his phone. "Of course."

The two of you exchange numbers and say your goodbyes. You head up to your apartment, smiling to yourself. Peter is kind of awesome. You finally feel like you've made a friend. Christmas miracles do exist.

_____________________

Christmas morning. It's snowing heavily when you wake up. Bugs is on your head, asleep against your hair. Your phone lays on the pillow beside you, notification light glowing. You grab it and turn it on, seeing two messages. One from your mom saying Merry Christmas and one from Peter telling you their building security code and there is a photo attached.

You open the photo and it's him in a Santa hat and the ugliest sweater you've ever seen. In the background there is another guy, his brother you assume, and he looks super similar. Maybe Peter was a twin. You reply back with a photo of Bugs in his little Christmas sweater you had put on him last night.

After a call with your mom and dad, making plans to video chat around one in the afternoon, you decide to go over to Peter's apartment. He's been sending you photos all morning of the food and you just can't resist. He's such a dork but he's so genuinely cute.

You bundle up and cross the courtyard to head to his building. Peter meets you at the front door and you laugh at his reindeer print pants. "You didn't have to come all the way down here."

"Yeah, I did." He chuckles as you walk down the entry hall. "I sort of forgot to mention something."

"Uh oh. What?" You stop short of the elevator doors. "Is there where you tell me you're a crazy psychopath and you're gonna eat me?"

"No!" Peter's face goes white but he quickly realized you're joking. "No, no no no. Okay that sounded bad. Okay no, I just forgot to tell you about my brothers."

"What? Yes you did, you said they live with you?"

"Not that. I mean, we're triplets."

"Oh!" You laugh. "That makes sense."

"What?"

"Well, in your photo of your Santa hat I saw one of your brothers in the back ground and I thought he looked super similar to you."

"Oh. Yeah, that was probably Shawn. We look the most alike." Peter pulls out his keycard to the elevator and swipes it to go up. "Raul still looks like us, but his hair is darker and he's got a little bit more angular of a face. Anyway, they're really excited to meet you."

"Why's that?"

Peter rubs his neck and blushes. "I don't bring a lot of guests over."

"Like just female guests or?"

"Any really. My brother's always tell me I'm antisocial. Whatever."

You step out of the elevator and Peter heads to the left. "I wouldn't have guessed you're antisocial. You're pretty talkative with me. You told me about so much yesterday."

"Yeah well, you're easy to talk to." Peter pushes open the door to the apartment. "And-"

"Damn Peter!" One of the brothers says as you walk in. "How'd you manage to get the balls to talk to her?"

"Shut up Raul," Peter says, throwing a pillow at him from a nearby sofa.

Raul stands and walks over to you. "I'm Raul. His older brother."

Peter rolls his eyes. "By minutes."

"Every second counts." Raul smirks and shakes your hand. "Merry Christmas, welcome to our shithole."

"Raul!"

You stifle a laugh. "Merry Christmas to you too. I was told there would be breakfast?"

"Just missed it. I ate it all." Raul says with a shrug and a tummy pat. "Christmas morning munchies."

"Oh shut up," Peter says and motions for you to follow him to the kitchen. You do and Raul flops down on the sofa laughing at his own dumb joke. "Shawn, this is the girl I told you about." He introduces you and you shake Shawn's flour covered hand.

"Hey, welcome. We've got a ton of food, please eat. It's just us." Shawn says, gesturing to the counter with plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon.

Peter hands you a plate from the cupboard. "Don't be shy okay? I promise none of us will judge you for eating a bunch or something."

You take the plate and grab some of everything. "Don't worry, I'm starving so I won't be shy."

_____________________

Post breakfast the guys open gifts. There are quite a few under the tree and you're surprised to find there are three for you. Considering you just met Peter yesterday and the other two today, it's a shocker. How could they even know what to get you?

"How...how do I have gifts?" You laugh as Peter plops a small red box in your lap.

"Well, last night I went out and got some stuff in case you did decide to come over. I really hoped you would, and I didn't want you to feel left out."

"That's so sweet." You lift the lid and inside is a little bag of cat toys and treats. "For Bugs!"

Raul chuckles and hands you another box. "Open this one."

You tear open the small box and inside is a hot cocoa mix in a mug that says Meowy Clawsmas. All of you have a good laugh at that.

Peter hands you the last box and he's flushed. You give him a look and open it. Inside is a flat small envelope. "What is this?"

"Just open it," Peter says.

You tear open the little seal and inside are two printed tickets to the ice rink downtown. "Ice skating?"

"I think Peter is asking you on a date," Shawn says from where he's cleaning up wrapping paper on the couch.

You flush, warmth spreading across your cheeks. "You want to go out with me?"

"Y-yeah. The light display was so much fun I thought maybe... y'know, we could do something like that again." Peter pushes his glasses up and clears his throat. "It doesn't have to be a date. We can just go as friends, or if you want to go with someone else that's okay."

"Peter."

"Yeah?"

"I'd love to go out with you." You lean forward and give him a hug. He seemingly melts into you, big hands coming up and resting on your back. "Relax."

Raul and Shawn let out a little chorus of awes.

"Thanks for not making Christmas suck this year." You laugh, pulling back and pushing Peter's hair out of his face. "I'm glad I took a chance and invited you to the light display."

"Me too. Merry Christmas," he says with a smile and you smile back.

"Merry Christmas."

_________________________

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. Next part coming soon! - A

Custom header per part made by the incredible delicateshawn

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes au #peter mendes #mendes triplets #mendes triplets au #the mendes triplets #mendes triplets fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes au fic #shawn mendes fanfic

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bellemorte180 · 5 years ago

Text

Wanderlust: Chapter One

FBI Special Agent, Niklaus Mikaelson is sent to the small town of Mystic Falls, Virginia to investigate a series of murders. When a serial killer’s most recent victim, Caroline Forbes, saves herself from a horrible fate, Klaus cannot help but begin to feel drawn to her. However, it seems that he is not the only one.

A/N: Read the prologue, that was posted earlier today, first.

Chapter One:

FBI Special Agent Niklaus, Klaus, Mikaelson surveyed the room. It was tidy and neat; not a single thing out of place with the exception of dog toys that lingered on the floor. He bent down and picked up a plush toy pig that had seen better days before tossing it into a basket by a brick fireplace that held an assortment of other toys. He took in the decor. It was modern but cozy. She had a small grey couch, yellow pillows and a soft blue blanket that lounged on the back. Her curtains were a soft blue, contrasting against the white walls.

A pair of used trainers were placed by the door, telling Klaus that she was a runner and by the state of her shoes, an avid one. By the fact that there was not a speck of dust or hint of dog hair lingering in the home, he could conclude that she was neat and very tidy. Given the array of cleaning supplies he found in the cabinet under the kitchen sink, he could conclude that she had some OCD tendencies. That and her closet was color coded, as was the mail that was neatly organized on her desk in her spare room that she had turned into a home office. Her MacBook remained untouched and shut; a notebook she clearly used for work lingering at its side. This was not a robbery, for valuable items still remained in their place.

Her bedroom was much of the same as the rest of the house. Neat and orderly. Her clothes were all folded, and her bathroom cabinets all held some organization system that made Klaus chuckle slightly. Her bed was freshly made and given the rest of the house; he was not surprised. Her comforter was white, but a plush dusty rose-colored blanket was folded neatly across the end of the bed. The throw pillows matched not only the blanket but the lamp shades on her bedside table. Inside the tables, Klaus found nothing out of the ordinary; some hand lotion, a book that Klaus recognized as some romance novel that was all the rage at the moment, an unopened box of condoms and a few sex toys. He made a mental note to find out who her closest friend was and have them retrieve those items. There were some things a parent did not need to know about their child.

He also found a small handheld pistol and a few rounds of ammunition in a box under the table. Given who her mother was, Klaus was not surprised that she would own one; and given what he could gather from her personality, the fact that the legal documentation associated with it was located in the spare office, filed away in an easy to use filing system was also unsurprising. Pictures lingered on the walls throughout the house. Her bright blue eyes, wide smile and genuine happy demeanor haunted him.

Caroline Forbes, twenty-eight years old, travel agent and daughter of the local Sheriff had been missing for a week and a half. By the state of her pictures she appeared well traveled; several pictures having been taken at various points across the world. According to her mother, Caroline was a planner with a hint of wanderlust; she would not simply take a trip without planning something or letting someone know ahead of time. Several of the pictures included trips with her dog and there was no way she would have left him behind. With the discovery of four bodies near the town’s Falls, the Sheriff requested assistance from the FBI, for fear that the bodies were connected to her missing daughter. When the case was presented to Klaus, he could not help but agree.

In truth, Klaus was tired. He had been chasing monsters for six years and the depressing manner of his job was eating at him. The victims lingered with him, even if he caught their monsters. He did this job because he wanted to give a voice to the victims who were unceremoniously silenced. This was his job, his career and one he was good at. However, He felt so much older than thirty-six. Looking at the bright eyes of Caroline Forbes, he knew those eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. Someone with such life should not be stamped out. Klaus felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He reached behind him and pulled out his smart phone and answered the call.

“Marcel?” Klaus answered, his British accent pouring though the phone. He placed his hand on the desk and tapped his nails against it. While being in the FBI and chasing serial predators taught Klaus to be patient, it was still something he struggled with. He wanted answers and while he was able to play the cat and mouse game serial killers typically liked to play, Klaus was losing his patience with it. He was good at his job, this he knew; he was able to see into their minds and there was a diabolical side to him that could anticipate their next move. It was a darker side of him that he hated touching; wondering if that made him a monster as well.

“Find anything useful at the house?”

“No. It appears that she was grabbed before entering the house. No forced entry or any sign that anyone outside her mother had been to the house at all.” Klaus replied, hoping that there would be something of interest that would point to who was holding Caroline. Yet, all he learned was that Caroline was an interesting woman who had a full life. He was not sure how that made him feel in the slightest. “Which means this was a planned kidnapping. He would have known when she was coming home. So, I suspect someone local.”

“Well, the autopsy reports of all four victims came back. I think we have enough to name cause of death. The most recent body indicates strangulation.”

“Identifications?”

“Thank Jesus for dental records. A couple had missing person reports as well.”

“Good. I’m leaving now. Put a pot of coffee on for me, will you?” Klaus asked, knowing that he would need the caffeine and hung up the phone. That was something at least. Klaus took one last glance around the house, ensuring that everything was put back where he found it. Even though he doubted that Caroline would ever set foot in this home again, he did not want her to worry if she did.

After locking the house up behind him, Klaus drove back to the Mystic Falls Police Station. It was small and had not been updated since at least the mid-nineties but he had not really expected anything else. It was a small town with a low crime rate and until the possibility of serial murders, Klaus had never heard of it. That was not surprising; most of the places he had been too where because of some depraved soul wreaking havoc on the innocent.

He pulled his government issued SUV into the small parking lot. When he entered the station, he was taken aback by the disarray. A desk had been completely flipped and papers were littered all across the floor; a computer lay shattered on the ground. One of the officers whose name escaped Klaus, was on the ground with his head between his knees. Several other officers were patting him on the back; unsure of what the issue was, Klaus walked by them with a curious look and entered the conference room.

Like the rest of the station, the conference room was small; smaller than his office back in D.C. It had a few windows, a small round table and just enough room for a whiteboard to be brought in. The table held several photos of the Falls and the corpses before they had been moved to the morgue; as well as some photos of the marks on the bodies once they were examined by the coroner.

“What is with the commotion?” Klaus asked, eyeing Marcel who was putting a photo of all four victims on the board. These photos were the drivers license photos of the woman when they were alive, confirming to Klaus that Marcel was able to get a photo ID on each of the women. Marcel was a tall man with dark skin and black hair. Much like Klaus, he wore jeans and a simple T-Shirt but knowing Marcel well, Klaus knew that he had a more fashionable style when not on the job.

“One of the victims was his sister. The first one.” Marcel replied, pointing to the first photo. Klaus closed his eyes and sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time Klaus had seen the devastation a loss could bring; especially one so brutal. “Her name is Victoria Donovan, better known as Vicki. Last seen about fifteen months ago but according to her skeleton remains, she was murdered roughly a year ago.”

“Missing person report?”

“No.” That made Klaus pause, he reached over and picked up Vicki’s file, flipping through it. “Apparently Vicki was a drug addict and had a tendency to take off for long periods of time. When she went missing, everyone, including her brother, assumed she went off on a bender.”

“High risk victim then.” Marcel nodded in agreement while Klaus picked up a second file. “Okay what about her, April Young?”

“The next victim.” Klaus’s eyes flickered to the second photo. She looked nothing like Vicki. Vicki appeared to be tall while April was short. Both had pale skin but different coloring. April had jet black hair while Vicki had more of an auburn color. “She is from Mystic Falls but moved out of town shortly after she graduated. Her father is the local pastor.”

“Says here she was pregnant?” That made Klaus’s stomach drop. According to the medical records, April was early along in her pregnancy and would not have been showing. Good chance that her attacker did not know about the baby when he took her. “Also, no missing person’s report for her either?”

“Yes. According to the sheriff, Pastor Young is a very religious man. When April came home for a visit about a year ago and told him of her pregnancy, they had an argument. She left and from what everyone thought, she returned back to Richmond. Due to the nature of their disagreement, he had no idea that she was missing or who the father of her baby was.”

“And she had no friends? A job? Did no one miss this young woman?” Klaus snapped; tossing the file on the table. He understood why a report would not have been made for Vicki but April? What kind of father disowned their own child because of a baby? Why would no one come forward for her?

“I feel you man. Some people just don’t have anyone I guess.” Marcel replied. “As for her father, well, he will have a lot of soul searching to do after this. I guess we will have to go and let him know. I wonder how a father can turn their own child away when she clearly needed him the most.”

Look at your own father Klaus. Look at what he did.

Klaus shook himself from his thoughts, focusing on April’s photo. He picked up her autopsy again and read. She had been dead and in the ground by the Falls for nine months. Both April and Vicki’s bodies were far too decomposed to tell an exact manner of death; Vicki was nothing more than a skeleton. If it was not for her dental records, she wouldn’t have been able to be identified. He shook his head and turned to the next photo. He paused; recognizing that face.

“Wait. She looks familiar.” Klaus stated, staring at the third woman’s photo. He picked up the file. “Andrea Star. Why do I know that name?”

“Because she was a reporter from Charleston who went missing six months ago. Made national news.” Marcel replied. “She was originally from Mystic Falls before relocating to South Carolina for college and then eventually she started her career there.” Klaus nodded, reading over her autopsy report. “She was home for Christmas six months ago. She went missing after she left for her drive back down to Charleston.”

“She was murdered three months ago.” Klaus eyes narrowed, thoughts processing in his head. “Says here that she was strangled and….ugh oh god.” Andrea, better known as Andi, had a more complete autopsy report for the simple fact that her body was more intact. He put the file down and picked up April’s again. The same thing was reported but Klaus missed it the first time. A nauseating feeling rolled in Klaus’s stomach. This went beyond murder. How he mutilated the bodies only made him more infuriated. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know.”

“Okay, and what about...” He looked to the fourth victim. “Camille O’Connell? Is she also from Mystic Falls?”

“No. Never been actually.” That took Klaus by surprise. Thus far each of the victims had been born in Mystic Falls but had left. It was a pattern that he was catching onto but with Camille, it appeared not to be the case. “She is from New Orleans, my old stomping grounds, and there is a missing person report out of Boston. According to what the Boston office faxed over, her twin brother, a Sean O’Connell was expecting her in Boston three months ago. She never showed.”

“So, maybe she made a pit stop here. Meant to fill up on gas or grab something to eat. Wrong place. Wrong time.” Klaus replied, reading over the autopsy report. It had almost identical readings to the others, but the body was fresh; only two weeks old. The autopsy was able to note that the markings on her neck also indicated strangulation. There were bruising on her wrists and her inner thighs. She had malnutrition from lack of nutrients and her hair was knotted; clumps ready to fall out. She was pale and from the autopsy, it showed that she had little to no sunlight for a long while. Her body bore signs of the same twisted mutilation as Andi’s and April’s.

“What are you thinking?” Marcel asked. Klaus looked at his partner and sat the file down on the table. He stood and looked at Caroline’s photo was on the board. Victim number five and the only body that they did not have. Missing for almost two weeks.

“Caroline. Where did she work again?”

“A travel agency out of Richmond. She was the only one who still lived in town, with the exception of Vicki.”

“They leave. That’s the connection.” Klaus muttered, eyes darting from picture to picture. “Caroline commutes forty minutes each day to her place of employment and comes back to Mystic Falls. She is also known to enjoying traveling, at least according to the photos in her home. Camille was just passing through on her way to Boston. Andi was home visiting family but lived in Charleston. April also lived out of town and only came home to tell the news of her pregnancy to her father but never intended to stay. Vicki routinely leaves town for long periods of time on a drug binge. That is how he chooses his victims.”

“Because they never stay in Mystic Falls? Could be because it would be harder to track him that way.”

“No. If that was the case, the victims would all be like Vicki. Drug addicts or prostitutes. High risk. Not well-known reporters or travel agents who is also the daughter of the town sheriff.” Klaus replied and Marcel nodded in agreement. “Caroline. I think she is alive.” He reached down and picked up a black marketer out of the silver tray. He opened the cap, putting it between his teeth, and drew a long ling. “Vicki was last seen fifteen months ago but decomposition sets her time of death around a year ago. April, last seen a year ago but decomposition puts her time of death, nine months ago. Andi went missing six months ago but her body indicates death three months ago. Camille, went missing three months ago but she died only weeks ago.”

“He holds them.” Marcel added in, looking at the timeline. “He keeps them hostage for three months before he strangles them and then mutilates their bodies. He dumps the body by the Falls and kidnaps a new victim when the opportunity arises.” Marcel pointed to Caroline. “You said that there was no forced entry in her home?” Klaus nodded. “He planned to grab Caroline. He would have known when she would arrive home from work. The rest were convenient but knew enough that they were in town with plans to leave. Except Camille, like you said. Wrong place, wrong time.” Marcel paused. “There was a break between victims. Between April and Andi.”

“Most likely because there was no one in town who was planning to leave.” Klaus looked at Caroline’s photo again. “I suppose that since she still lived in town, he had not considered her yet. He is devolving. Caroline leaves but returns. If we don’t catch him, soon enough his paranoia will start believing that everyone will leave.”

“I hope you’re wrong on that for Caroline’s sake. If he is devolving, he may kill her quicker.”

“Yeah. I know.” He continued to look at the photos, the worst-case scenario running though is head. “Did you put coffee on?” Klaus asked and Marcel nodded, looking at the board. “I’m going to talk with the Sheriff. Maybe give her some hope that her daughter is still alive.” Klaus opened the door to the conference room and walked through the station. The mess had been cleared and most of the officers were at their own desks. Like on most cases, eyes followed Klaus out of curiosity and either respect or hostility depending on the case. Here, the town was shaken to the point that they would accept help, even from a British foreigner who just happened to work for the FBI.

Klaus walked into the small kitchenette and headed towards the coffee maker. Leaning against the counter was the officer who Klaus saw lose his temper. Klaus eyed him as he poured himself a cup of coffee before grabbing another mug. He was medium height, strong build and had blonde hair with blue eyes at Klaus’s sister would kill for.

“Donovan, right?” Klaus asked and the officer nodded his head as Klaus held out his hand. The officer took it and gave a firm shake that impressed Klaus.

“Call me Matt. Everyone does.”

“Klaus Mikaelson. Look, I’m sorry about your sister but my partner and I will do everything we can to figure out what happened to her.” Matt nodded his head but said nothing; his eyes watering again, and Klaus could tell that he was doing everything he could to not break down and lose his temper again. “Tell me about her.”

“Vick?” A small smile graced his lips. “Honestly, she was a train wreck. She was a year older, but I was always the one cleaning up her messes. Always the life of the party. Then again all she did was party, drink and get high. Never willing to try rehab or anything to better her life.” Klaus listened as he brought the coffee to his lips; drinking it slowly. “I keep replaying her last days over and over in my head.”

“What do you mean?”

“We fought. She told me that she was leaving town again. I tried to convince her to stay. Maybe, I don’t know, try and get her job back at the Grill. She was adamant that she needed to leave. She had been spending time with Damon Salvatore and I guess they ended things. Although, I don’t think it was serious at all. All I know is that she took off like a bat out of hell and I never saw her again.” Matt turned and punched the fridge before gripping the counter. “Damn it. I should have looked for her, but I thought that she just took off. I thought that she would come back eventually. She always did.”

“Hey. You did nothing wrong.” Klaus reached up and placed his free hand on Matt’s shoulder; giving it a tight squeeze. “Go home. Get some rest and take some time off. If you think of anything let me know. Okay?” Matt nodded and Klaus gave him another pat on the back before picking up the second coffee mug. He left the kitchenette and headed towards the Sheriff’s office. The door was closed but then she rarely left it open. Her office had two large windows that allowed her to see out into the station but the last few days had her keeping the blinds closed. Klaus had only seen the Sheriff out of the office for a few moments each day, and that was only to take Caroline’s dog to the bathroom, and Klaus was certain she didn’t go home. “Sheriff? Its Agent Mikaelson. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, come in.” Klaus bent down slightly in order to open the door with his elbow since his hands were full. He opened the door and then pushed it closed again with his foot. He sat a cup of coffee down in front of Liz who gave him a tired smile. She was not in uniform but instead jeans and an oversized shirt. Her hair was cut short but in disarray. The bags under her eyes indicated the little sleep she got, and Klaus wondered if she had eaten in days. The dog, a brownish colored mix with long hair that was resting in the corner padded over to him. “Hey Enzo. Being a good boy?”

“He has been prancing all afternoon. I think he is looking for Caroline.” Liz stated, gripping her mug tightly. “I got him for her when he was still a puppy. They bonded instantly and she spoiled him.” Klaus nodded with a small smile, remembering the large amount of dog toys that were in her house. On that thought, Klaus reached in his back pocket and pulled out a silver key. He handed it to Liz who gave him a smile as she took the key from him. “Did it help?”

“I think so.” Klaus replied, not wanting to tell her that he didn’t find much outside of getting to know her daughter. Typically, it was not done to include a family member in an investigation, but Liz was a cop and he was certain that she had no hand in the disappearance of her daughter or the death of the other woman. “Do you know if Caroline was involved with anyone? Was she receiving any threats?”

“No. Caroline was engaged about a year ago to Tyler Lockwood.” Klaus gave Liz a blank look. “The mayor’s son.” He nodded in understand. He saw no photos of a man in her home and her closet did not indicate that someone lived with her. “But he cheated on her and she kicked him to the curb.”

“Good for her.” There was a hint of respect in his voice. Everything he learned about Caroline both impressed him and saddened him. Her photos showed a woman who was so full of life be stamped out; but he had hope that the perpetrator held his victims for weeks at a time before killing them. If that was the case, there was still time to find her alive.

“Yeah. Caroline is stubborn and said she deserved better. Tyler tried to get back together with her, but she wasn’t having it.” Liz laughed lightly. “She is not one for mincing words and called him on in the middle of the Grill, in front of his mother. Tyler stopped bothering her after that.”

“Anyone else?”

“No. Caroline and Tyler were together for a long time. She dated Damon Salvatore for a few years during high school but that ended before she graduated.” Liz’s tone was dark, and Klaus made a mental note, that was the second time he heard that man’s name in the span of a few minutes. “Caroline was a relationship kind of woman, not one for one-night stands or anything like that.” Klaus thought back to the items in her bedside table and could agree that the untouched box of condoms showed that she didn’t have guest in her bedroom often.

“What about friends?” Klaus asked, knowing that it was good to know who Caroline associated with and incase the worse happened, he would let them know in case there would be anything that Caroline would not want her mother to see. A small detail in the autopsy report flashed in his eyes and he forced down some bile; some things Liz just did not need to know. “Who was she closest with?”

“Bonnie Bennet, and Elena Gilbert.” Klaus jotted their names down. “The three are inseparable. Elena is a medical student; she is doing her residency at the teaching hospital near Whitmore and Bonnie owns the bakery in town that she took over when her mother died. When the girls where in college, Caroline would always organize some kind of trip. She loved traveling and often did so for work; or at least that was her excuse to go see some part of the world.”

“A hint of wanderlust?”

“She got it from her father.”

“Where is her father?”

“Bill died about a year after she graduated high school.” Klaus nodded, offering his condolences. “We were divorced but we got on well enough. Caroline was always close with him. I did let her stepdad know that she is missing. Stephen asked that I keep him updated. Said he will come down when she comes home. I don’t think he can be here with…. without her here.”

“I didn’t realize you had remarried.” His eyes flashed to her hand and saw that there was no ring. That caused Liz to chuckle. Klaus looked at her confused. Enzo came padding over and whimpered at the door. Liz sighed and called the dog over again. The dog obeyed but continued to look at the door.

“I wasn’t. Stephen is Bill’s widower.” That startled Klaus but he hid his surprise well. Liz eyed him and he could almost see the upturn of her lips; amused by his reaction. Klaus could tell that despite the fact that she would have had to be devastated during the divorce, telling other’s that her ex-husband was gay brought some humor to her.

“I see.” Klaus replied giving her a small smile. He took the last sip of his coffee and placed the empty mug on Liz’s desk. On the corner of the desk, he could see a picture of Caroline in what appeared to be a cheerleading uniform. She appeared at least ten years younger in this photo and by the fingerprints on the glass, Klaus could tell that Liz held it often. Klaus picked up the photo and looked down at Caroline’s smiling face. “She seems so full of light.”

“She is.”

“Liz, I’m going to be honest with you.” Liz’s breath sucked in and she glued her eyes to Klaus. She did not know this man, but she was trusting him to find her daughter; but she also wasn’t a fool. She knew the chances were slim and with the bodies surfacing, it was clear that something terrible happened to Caroline. “Based on the autopsies and the pattern of the bodies, Marcel and I believe that he holds his victims for a long period of time before he kills them. If he continues with this pattern, Caroline could still alive.”

Suddenly, it was as though a dam broke inside of Liz. Tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t stop them. Hearing that there was a possibility that her daughter was alive caused all the emotions she kept bottled up to overflow. Enzo lifted his head and placed it in Liz’s lap; his nose nudging her hand. Liz raised her hand and patted the top of his head. Klaus reached over and picked up the box of tissues that were resting on her desk and handed them to her. Liz took them gratefully. She dried her eyes and Klaus waited for her to compose herself. He was expecting it and been around enough grieving mothers to know that such news would cause the tears.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” Klaus muttered. “I don’t say this to get your hopes up. I could be very wrong, but I hope I am not.”

“Caroline is a fighter. Even when she was a little girl, she always had something to say and never let anything stop her once she put her mind to something. If she was told she couldn’t do something, she set out to prove them wrong.” Klaus chuckled at that. “If she is being held somewhere, Caroline would fight. She would do anything in her power to save herself. I raised her to take care of herself and never to give up. She’ll be okay. I have to have faith in that.”

“Why don’t you go home Liz. Get some rest.”

“No.” Liz replied. “When Caroline was little, I told her that if she ever was in trouble, that she comes here. That if she came to the police station, I would be here, and I would protect her.” Liz insisted. She reached down and scratched Enzo’s ears. “He won’t leave either. It’s like he knows.”

“Dogs are funny like that. They sense things that we can’t.” Klaus looked down at Enzo and could tell that the pup was well loved; and very loyal to Caroline. For a second, he wondered if maybe there would be a way to use Enzo to track her; use her scent or something. Maybe he would contact the field office about having K9s sent out into the woods and maybe they could pick up her scent. His focus would be to find Caroline and bring her home. “Have you eaten anything?”

“No. I-“ Liz was cut off by Enzo going wild again. He started whimpering and ran to the door, scratching at it widely. Liz called to him, but he completely ignored her. Seconds later, the office door burst open and a deputy ran through it; a wild look on his face. Enzo scampered out the door and Klaus could hear him barking incessantly at something.

“Sheriff. It’s Caroline. She is alive.” Liz bolted from her seat and was out the door before Klaus could even move. Quickly, Klaus ran out of the office and through the small station. He ran into Marcel, who was in the same mind set as him. They followed the voices and the sound of Enzo’s barking. Once they reached the lobby, Klaus took in the sight before him. Officer’s upon officers were crowded in the lobby but were giving the woman who held their attention a wide birth. Enzo was barking and jumping, trying to get her attention while Liz was slowly approaching her as though she was an injured and wild animal.

Caroline Forbes was standing in the middle of the police station, her blue eyes darting around frantically. Her breathing was labored, as though she had just run a long distance. Klaus took in her appearance. Her blonde hair was weighed down by grease, indicating that it had not been washed in days; if not longer. Twigs and leaves were stuck in her hair and her skin appeared dirty. She was barefoot and by the bloody footprints on the station’s tile floor, Klaus assumed she had run as fast as she could with no shoes on; not stopping despite the fact that her feet were being torn to shreds. Klaus noticed that she cradled her left arm to her chest and from what he could see, there was purple and yellow bruising up and down her arms.

She wore a pair of black slacks that he assumed she had on during her abduction. While they were torn, crinkled and dirty, they appeared to be the kind that a professional would wear to the office. Her white tank-top that was tucked into her pants had several tears through them and had dark brown spots that Klaus could not tell if it was dirt or blood. Her skin was very dirty, and he could see spots of dried blood that stuck to her. There appeared to be a cut on her forehead that seemed fresh, seeing that there was a small trickle of blood sliding down her face.

“Caroline, sweetie? It’s mom. Okay. I’m here.” Liz stated in a calm voice that amazed Klaus. Any other mother would have run up to their daughter and took her into her arms, no matter the condition their daughter was in. Klaus took a moment to remember that Liz was also a cop and a damn good one from what he had seen. Slowly, Liz approached Caroline with one hand outstretched. “It’s me Caroline. I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? No one is going to hurt you again.”

“Mom?” Caroline focused on Liz and her eyes narrowed. Her voice was hoarse as though she had been screaming for a long period of time. Given the situation, Klaus was willing to bet anything that she had been. “I’m okay? I made it?”

“Yeah, baby. You made it.” A look of relief flashed across Caroline’s face and tears started to fall down her cheeks. Her knees gave out and Liz caught her easily; bringing her daughter’s head to her chest. The pair sunk to the ground but did not let go of one another. Caroline let out a howl that echoed off the police station walls; sounding as though a wild animal had been injured. Caroline cried into her mother’s chest while Liz continued to rock her; kissing the top of her head in comfort. Enzo laid down beside Caroline, getting as close as possible he could to his master. Caroline, with her good hand, reached out and brought the dog to her chest the best she could and just held him close.

A/N: Thoughts????? Theories. I am really looking forward to hearing your thoughts and theories on what is going on. I am going to drop a lot of hints and clues in this story; so I welcome theories on who is the killer.

#klaroline fanfiction #caroline x klaus #klaroline #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #fanfic

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post-itpenny · 4 years ago

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DBD Survivor OC

Thomas Grey

The survivor to go with my killer OC Irene Oakland (The Muse).

I hereby dub these two- the Center Stage Chapter

As twins, Thomas and Dinah were inseparable throughout their childhood, though their parents often encouraged them to take up separate interests. The two did everything together, more often than not with Dinah leading the way and Thomas faithfully at her heels. Perhaps the one thing the two bonded over more than anything else however, was their love of ghost stories.

Their grandmother had grown up in a rural community devoted to a local sawmill. The families living in cabins in the surrounding woods, spending much of their free time telling stories and thriving on folktales. The twin’s grandmother was more than happy to share these stories with her eager grandchildren.

In high school the twins started to find their own interests. Thomas, developing a love of computers, found himself experimenting with editing and sound. Dinah on the other hand was notorious for joining clubs and sports teams only to grow bored and quit soon after. She was far more interested in what the world had to offer, daydreaming of traveling the world and in the meantime exploring the fields, forests, and historical buildings of their hometown. While Dinah dreamed of the future her brother however, set a plan and worked for it. The summer of their junior year Thomas was awarded with a scholarship to study audio engineering in Columbus and Dinah was hit with the reality that she would be seperated from her twin for the first time ever.

Seeing his sister’s distress, Thomas started dragging Dinah to his AV club meetings where she was passed a video camera.

Dinah found a love of filming the world around her, buying an old video camera at a junk sale and beginning to document her excursions. Thomas started joining her and together they made short videos of the various places they explored. They graduated high school and Thomas went on to college with Dinah to be accepted and joined her brother in the spring.

They made friends with others who had a love of urban exploration and soon the small group had a small website to post videos of the various places they explored. They developed a large following from their fellow college students and often received requests to try visiting haunted sites. For Halloween they decided it was time to do just that, and the twins knew exactly where they wanted to go.

In their home town was a building on the historic registry despite not having been open in decades. The shell of the former Spades Theater was reportedly haunted by a vengeful actress, the Twins had both wanted to visit for many years but did not for fear of getting caught as trespassers. However their video work had given them some courage and they knew thanks to some former high school classmates how to get inside.

It was Dinah who was placed in front of the camera that night. She knew the lore of the place best and could also give commentary while she filmed. Thomas was frazzled, his equipment’s batteries dying quickly and sound filling with static as his sister grew bold and started challenging any ghosts to come out, just like they had watched so many times others doing on TV.

Thomas could have sworn he saw movement in the corner of his eye, somewhere on the edge of the stage. Suddenly, a loud shriek echoed through the hall. The group panicked and ran for the exit, a broken window pane they had taken turns shimmying through. Dinah was out first, the smallest of the group. Her friends followed suit, running off and screaming into the night. Thomas struggled to climb through the window, his leg was caught on something, or maybe something had grabbed hold of him. His sister grabbed his arms and pulled, Thomas feeling stretched as two forces fought to have him. Dinah looked up at the window, eyes growing wide in fear.

Thomas never got a chance to ask what she saw.

Dinah let go of her brother, and Thomas was dragged back inside.

Description:

Cautious yet observant. Thomas Grey is often in the background but keenly aware of the world around him, allowing the survivor to stay quick and quiet as he moves around the map.

Perks

Sound Check

You are aware of all sounds around you. Killers automatically have a five meter increase of their terror radius including while in any stealth mode. In addition, the actions of your fellow survivors have a five meter increase.

“Check, check…. Check”- Thomas Grey

Get Your Gear

Any item gained from a chest is automatically green level or higher. Items retrieved from basement chests are always purple level.

“Careful! None of this was cheap.”- Thomas Grey

Not Again

Let’s not fall for the same trick twice. Your vaults are 10% faster and there is no limit to window vaults. Pressing the secondary action allows you to fast vault with an immediate sprint burst afterwards. You suffer from the exhausted status for 15 seconds after, before being allowed to use the action again.

“Fool me twice, shame on me.” - Thomas Grey

#Thomas grey #dbd survivor oc #the muse

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years ago

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Casablanca: The Story

Whether you enjoy a timeless love story, heart-wrenching interpersonal drama, gritty film-noir, thrilling spy action, edge-of-your-seat suspense, or war stories, Casablanca has it all, and in spades. Everything from classic lines to familiar story beats comes together to tell this story of a tragic romance embroiled in the midst of an oncoming war, and what a ride it is. Let’s take a look.

So what’s the setup?

It’s December of 1941, and War is coming. The Nazis have already taken most of Europe, and are looking to march on what’s left, with no signs of stopping. The refugees, fleeing the Nazi forces, search for transportation to America, and most end up in the city of Casablanca.

The problem is, then they can’t get out of Casablanca. As a result, the city becomes somewhat of a way station, full of people waiting for visas to enable them to cross the Atlantic, and the officials profiting from the people’s desperation. As it turns out, a few German officials, carrying important documents, have just been murdered, and their documents stolen. Casablanca is on the alert, and the German forces in the city are taking it quite seriously, rounding up suspects and marching them into custody.

In short, Casablanca is not an easy place to live.

A plane full of Nazi officials arrives in the city, bringing with it Major Strasser, who is introduced to Casablanca’s Police Prefect, Captain Louis Renault. (Claude Rains)

Renault assures Strasser that they are doing everything in their power to solve the murder case, and explains that he knows who the murderer is, and expects to arrest him tonight. You see, Renault believes that the killer will be at Rick’s.

How does he know this, you may ask? Simple. Everyone comes to Rick’s.

Thus we are introduced to the hub of activity both in the city, and in the film, Rick’s Café Americain, a popular nightclub and gambling den. It’s a busy place, full of people who want to leave the country and their hushed conversations, all set against the soothing background noise of piano player Sam.

It is here that we are introduced to the owner of Rick’s Café Americain, Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart).

Right off, we learn a few things about him: He never drinks with customers, and he’s got a dry wit that’s sharper than a brand-new razor.

Rick sits, playing chess by himself (an element inspired by Bogart) at his own private table when he is interrupted by a man named Ugarte (Peter Lorre).

Ugarte tells Rick that his specialty is helping refugees (for a price), and that he himself intends to clear out of Casablanca that very night. He gives Rick something for safekeeping: an envelope that contains valuable letters of transit. An interesting choice, since it’s rather obvious that Rick doesn’t exactly like him very much, but Ugarte seems to trust him quite a bit, even if there isn’t any friendship between them.

“You know, Rick, I have many a friend in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust.”

Interestingly enough, as Rick points out, letters of transit are what was stolen from the murdered German couriers. He tells Ugarte that he’s ‘a little more impressed’ with him, and leaves it at that, hiding the papers inside the piano. A few moments later, he is approached by Signor Ferarri, the ‘head of all illegal activities in Casablanca’ and the owner of another nearby club, The Blue Parrot, who wants to buy Rick’s, or at the very least the piano player, Sam.

Rick’s having none of it, and tells Ferarri that he’s not selling the club, nor does he sell human beings, period. After this discussion and a brief incident ending with Rick calling a cab for a lady patron, the stoic club owner ends up in a conversation with none other than Captain Renault, who, ironically, seems to be on almost friendly terms with him.

The pair exchange witty banter, with Renault guessing reasons Rick has not returned to his home country, America. Rather than provide the true reason, Rick is content to let his Friendly Enemy guess, remaining very closed-mouthed on the reasons he remains in Casablanca.

Eventually, Renault gets to the point of his visit: He intends to make an arrest in Rick’s club tonight, and that Major Strasser of the Third Reich will be there to watch. Renault also mentions that there is a certain individual who has just come to Casablanca who will likely be in search for an exit visa much like the ones that were recently stolen. This individual’s name is Victor Lazlo, and the German army is quite keen on catching him before he gets overseas, and of course, Rick can’t, and won’t do anything about it, right?

After all, Rick sticks his neck out for no one.

Rick and Renault decide to make a bet on the outcome of Victor Lazlo’s stay in Casablanca. Renault wagers that he shall be captured, Rick that he shall escape. There’s a catch though, as Renault explains to Rick; Lazlo will probably be looking for two exit visas, as he’s traveling with a woman that he’s quite fond of.

Moments later, Major Strausser arrives, and Renault commences the arrest operation. His men move in on the suspect: Ugarte, the man who entrusted the important papers to Rick earlier. Ugarte, makes a pretense of going quietly before making a run for the door, firing a few shots behind him. He spots Rick on his way, pleading with him to help him hide, but it’s no good: he’s caught and dragged away, to the satisfaction of both Renault and Strasser.

Strasser isn’t completely satisfied, however. He wants to ask Rick a few questions.

He asks, all right, but doesn’t get much by way of answers. Rick’s just as tight-lipped with Strasser as he was with Renault, and the only information anyone comes away with is that Rick is from New York, and has brown eyes (apparently).

“Richard Blaine, American. Age, 37. Cannot return to his country. The reason is a little vague.”

Strasser is concerned that Rick might help Victor Lazlo, the man previously mentioned by Renault. Apparently Lazlo has been getting the word out on some of the nasty things that the Third Reich is responsible for, and as a result, the German military really want him arrested.

Why bring this to Rick? After all, he sticks his neck out for no one.

As it turns out, Rick has a history with lost causes. And speaking of history, it’s about to come back and bite him. Hard.

You see, Victor Lazlo (Paul Henreid) has just walked into Rick’s Cafe, with a woman on his arm. This woman is named Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman), and Sam (Dooley Wilson), the pianist, recognizes her immediately.

Victor and Ilsa get a table, and are apparently going to meet with someone to help them, when they are interrupted by none other than Captain Renault, who cordially sits down to share a drink with them rather than arrest them. How nice.

Ilsa, for her part, is returning Sam’s recognition, and asks Renault about him. The captain informs her that Sam came from Paris, traveling with the owner of the establishment, Rick. Ilsa seems interested in this ‘Rick’ character, but before she can really start asking questions, Strasser sits down at the table as well, clearly hostile towards Victor, but unwilling to do anything just yet, with Victor on French soil. Strasser arranges to meet with Victor the following day in Renault’s office to discuss why Victor’s here, and with that, leaves him to his drink.

No sooner are Victor and Ilsa alone than Victor immediately heads to the bar to inquire about his contact. You see, he and Ilsa were supposed to meet with someone who would provide him with the letters of transit to get out of Casablanca. They were, in fact, to meet with the recently-arrested Ugarte.

Left alone at their table, Ilsa begins a conversation with Sam, the piano player, and it’s obvious they know each other. Ilsa has a song request: she wants Sam to play ‘As Time Goes By’. Sam, while reluctant to at first, eventually gives in and begins playing the tune just in time for Rick to barge in, shouting at Sam for playing that song. Before he can really lay into him, Rick and Ilsa spot one another, and Rick recognizes her, instantly.

Sam grabs the piano bench and gets the heck out of Dodge.

Renault and Victor arrive at Ilsa’s table again, meaning that whatever history is between the pair will have to be ignored for now. Rick, breaking his own rule, joins them for a drink, to Renault’s surprise.

After an evening of small talk, Victor and Ilsa leave in a cab and Rick heads to a private room in his club to recover.

Later that night, Rick is sitting by himself in his club, drinking and remembering old times, and not in a fond way.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

As he sits, hoping Ilsa comes back, Sam comes in, trying to get him to leave. Rick isn’t budging, instead making a song request, the same song that Ilsa requested earlier.

“Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By.'”

And so Sam does, albeit reluctantly. As he plays, Rick continues remembering, an entire relationships worth of remembering of he and Ilsa in Paris. Apparently the two were an item, and Rick was a considerably happier looking guy. During this time, the pair knew very little about each other, except that there had been another man in Ilsa’s life who was now dead.

Despite this, the two seem quite happy together, until something interrupts it. The War.

The German army is moving in on Paris.

The night before the Gestapo are to invade, Sam plays ‘As Time Goes By’ on the piano as Rick and Ilsa plan to escape Paris the following morning together by train.

The next morning, Rick stands at the train station, alone, waiting for Ilsa, who never shows. Sam approaches with a note from Ilsa, a note which explains that, while she loves Rick, she can’t go with him, and she can never see him again. Rick is left on the train station with a broken heart and a new cynical edge as Sam pulls him onto the train that will eventually take him to Casablanca.

In the present, Rick looks up to see Ilsa in the doorway. By this time, he is good and drunk, and isn’t really interested in hearing her explanation of what happened in Paris. Eventually, his snark and hard edge, reinforced by the alcohol, drive her off before she has a chance to tell him her side of the story.

So, before we get any further, let’s take a look at where we’re at.

Right now, we’ve got a handful of major players that we’re getting to know pretty well, all wrapped up in the affairs of Casablanca. First, there’s Rick.

Rick is a cynic, a bitter man who’s been kicked around by life a bit too much. While having a history of fighting for the underdog and being a romantic, something happened to him along the way that changed his way of thinking to: “I stick my neck out for no one.”

That event was, of course, Ilsa’s leaving, and the heartbreak that ensued.

As a result, Rick is a changed man, a hard man who now claims that he never gets involved, and who certainly wants no part of his sentimental roots. He’s really an interesting choice as a protagonist, as the audience does like him and root for him, but he’s not the heroic type. No, that’d seem to be Victor Lazlo, wouldn’t it?

Victor is the opposite of Rick in just about every way. He’s a good, honest and upright man, idealistic, brave, and patriotic to a fault, and wanted by the Nazis (which is a recommendation in and of itself). In any other movie, he’d seem to be the obvious choice for the hero of the story. Not in Casablanca.

Between the two is Ilsa. She’s with Victor, and was in love with Rick, and is the one person Rick ever truly loved. She is currently stuck in the middle, the balancing act between the idealism and the cynicism, and the bridge between the characters. She’s a strong woman who’s been through a lot of pain that she keeps under wraps, and it shows in her interactions with both Rick and Victor.

Three different characters, all stuck in Casablanca for their own very good reasons, and of course, all end up in each other’s lives, under the pressure of the Gestapo. This leaves very little room for coincidence, and serves as an excellent setup for the situation and the characters involved. Even more showcased are the contrasting characters, all falling on different sides of a moral chart ranging from the upright Victor to the neutral Rick, to the corrupt Renault, to the evil Strasser.

Speaking of which, let’s get back to the story.

Victor and Ilsa arrive in Captain Renault’s office the next morning for their appointment, just moments after Strasser informs Renault that he believes that Ugarte left those important letters of transit with Rick. Strasser, upon seeing the couple, informs Victor that there is exactly one way he can get out of Casablanca: if Victor gives up the names and locations of the leaders of the underground movement rising against the Third Reich.

Victor, being the stone-cold patriot that he is, doesn’t talk, and he and Ilsa leave Renault’s office, but not before being told that Ugarte is dead.

Meanwhile, Rick decides to pay Signor Ferarri a visit at Ferarri’s club, The Blue Parrot, to pick up a shipment that’s due. Ferarri tells Rick that he’ll send the shipment to him when it comes in, and knowingly remarks that he’d pay a lot of money for the missing letters of transit. Rick lets on that he definitely knows something, but leaves it at that, and goes on his way, meeting Ilsa in the market on his way out.

Now in a sober state of mind, Rick tries to persuade Ilsa to explain to him what happened in Paris, but Ilsa refuses, preferring to think of older, happier times than the recent barbed encounter. She does however, impart a very large bombshell:

Victor Lazlo is her husband. Not only that, he has been her husband, and she was married to him during her romance with Rick in Paris.

She leaves him with that information and leaves, with her husband, for the place Rick just left: The Blue Parrot.

Once inside, the two attempt to bargain with Ferarri to get them out of Casablanca. Ferarri explains that he can’t get Victor out, but he might be able to arrange for a way to get Ilsa out. Ilsa, unwilling to leave her husband, turns him down. Rejected but not bitter, Ferarri tells the couple that the missing letters of transit were not with Ugarte during his arrest, and that they are probably with Rick.

It doesn’t exactly seem to be a secret.

Back at Rick’s Café Americain, Renault still hasn’t found the transit papers, even after searching Rick’s place. The Captain has a conversation with Strasser, who is worried about the level of influence Victor Lazlo might have on the people.

“It is too dangerous if we let him go. It may be too dangerous if we let him stay.”

Just then, Victor approaches Rick and says that he wants to talk to him, in private. Rick agrees, and they move to his office, where Victor tries to convince Rick to give him the letters of transit. Rick refuses, flat-out stating he won’t let them have them at any price. When Victor asks why, Rick tells him to ask his wife.

Confused, Victor heads back to the main room, where a bunch of German officers are exuberant playing and singing a patriotic German song. Victor springs into action, getting the club’s band to play the “Marseillaise” over them. Around the room, the refugees in Rick’s Café Americain stand, singing the French National Anthem as loudly as they can. It’s a powerful moment, but unfortunately, it catches Strasser’s attention.

Now certain that Victor’s presence is a disturbance, inspiring the populace against the Third Reich, Strasser orders Renault to close down Rick’s, and get everyone out. As the place is clearing, Strasser tells Ilsa that she and her husband are in danger, and will be until they allow Strasser to take them back to German-occupied France.

Back in Victor and Ilsa’s hotel room, Victor confronts Ilsa, telling her about Rick’s response to his attempt to get the letters. Ilsa doesn’t really tell him anything, but he pieces it together anyway, and forgives her for drifting away while he was in a concentration camp, before leaving to attend an underground resistance meeting.

Meanwhile, Rick heads home to his apartment above his club, and realizes he’s not alone. Ilsa snuck in the back, and has been waiting for him. She pleads with him to get over his bitterness towards her, and think about the bigger picture. Rick, however, doesn’t really want to.

Ilsa isn’t willing to let it go at that, and pulls a gun on him. Rick calls her bluff, knowing she won’t actually shoot him, and Ilsa tells him that he has no idea what she’s been through, and that she did love him, and still does. After a brief reconciliation, Ilsa begins to explain what happened in Paris.

Before she met Rick, Ilsa had been married to Victor, who, she was told, had been shot and killed. She wasn’t lying when she said the other man in her life was dead, she’d legitimately thought that, and that’s why she let herself fall in love with Rick. As it turns out, Victor wasn’t dead (obviously) but in a concentration camp. The day he escaped was the day Ilsa was to meet Rick on the train station platform to escape Paris. Ilsa, finding this out, stayed with her husband, and sent the note to Rick, explaining that they couldn’t be together.

Ilsa in the present says that she can’t bring herself to leave Rick again, but pleads with him to at least get Victor out of Casablanca, telling him to do the thinking for all of them.

As it happens, Victor enters the club downstairs, led by one of Rick’s employees who was at the same underground resistance meeting with him. Rick calls his employee upstairs, has him sneak Ilsa back home out the back, while he goes downstairs to talk to Victor.

No sooner does Rick join Victor at the bar that Victor begins to try to get the letters of transit from Rick again, this time saying that, if he won’t give Victor one, at least give Ilsa one so she can get out. Rick seems impressed by this show of love, but before he can give a definitive answer, a group of French officers barge in and arrest Victor.

The next morning, Rick enters Captain Renault’s office, and tells him that he and Ilsa are running away to America, and that the last person they would want to run into would be Victor. Rick explains that, instead of holding Victor on a flimsy, fictional charge, it would be a better idea of Renault released Victor, and catch him in the act of trying to get the letters of transit off of Rick. This way, Renault can put Victor away as accessory to the murder of the German couriers, for good. Renault, liking the sound of this, agrees. After this, Rick drops by The Blue Parrot to sell Rick’s Café Americain to Signor Ferarri, on the condition that all of his employees keep their jobs.

That night, at Rick’s club, Renault shows up to help with the plan to get Victor arrested, and hides as Ilsa rushes in, worriedly telling Rick that Victor thinks that Ilsa’s going with him, not Rick. Rick assures her that everything’s going to be fine, and Victor enters. Rick hands over the letters of transit, and Renault springs from hiding, arresting Victor.

A lot happens at once.

Ilsa rushes to Victor, and all of a sudden, Rick has a gun out and trained on Renault. He orders Renault to sit down (hands where he can see them) and call the airport to tell them that two people are leaving for Casablanca for Lisbon, and to not give them any trouble.

Renault pulls a fast one on Rick’s fast one, though, and calls Strasser instead, unbeknownst to Rick.

Strasser, being unfortunately intelligent, figures out what’s going on and orders a police squad to meet him at the airport, and heads out to stop them before they can get out.

Rick, Renault, Ilsa and Victor arrive at the airport, and Rick tells one of the orderlies to put Victor and Ilsa’s baggage on the plane. Ilsa, realizing that Rick is planning to stay behind, is heartbroken, reluctant to leave him again.

“You’re saying this only to make me go.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not with him, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”

“But what about us?”

“We’ll always have Paris. We didn’t have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.”

“When I said I would never leave you.

“And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of. Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that.”

Rick finally puts the big picture ahead of his own little one, and does the right thing. Knowing Ilsa belongs with Victor, he lets her go, and rushes them both onto the plane, which starts down the runway at the exact second Strasser pulls in.

Strasser tries to put in a call to the radio tower to stop that plane, but is abruptly interrupted by Rick shooting him in the chest. Strasser falls, dead, as all of the cops show up.

It looks like it’s curtains for our hero. Renault tells the officers that Strasser has been shot, and after a tense moment, the corrupt Captain decides not to turn Rick in.

“Major Strasser has been shot…..Round up the usual suspects.”

The plane takes off, and Renault advises Rick to leave Casablanca for a while. He also suggests that perhaps they could leave together and do some good. The pair walk off into the fog, as Rick drops the final, iconic line:

“Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Thus ends one of the most beloved films of all time.

At first, the end of this movie can seem a little abrupt. After spending so much time building up the story, it almost seems like the ending comes rushing in, changing everything in the last twenty minutes. Rick’s last-minute gambit can seem almost as though all of his development was done in the last third of the film. It’s clear that he’s a changed man, alright, but it can seem kind of rushed, if you don’t look carefully at the entire film.

You see, throughout the movie, Rick regularly declares: ‘I stick my neck out for no one,’ but the fact is, that isn’t really true.

While Rick presents a bitter and cold demeanor, the fact is, throughout the entire film, he does little else than stick his neck out for other people. If all he cared about was his own security and success, he’s doing a terrible job at it.

From refusing to sell his club to rigging the roulette tables for a refugee couple, Rick’s tendency to fight for the underdog never really dies down. His most selfish actions are as a direct result of a broken heart, a bitter edge grown after the only woman he’s ever loved left him without explanation.

Rick is obviously a changed man by the end, but it has less to do with his morals, and more to do with his duty.

You see, Rick serves as both a character and a picture of America. With a story set during December of 1941, a ‘neutral’ American character who must decide whether or not to take a stand in the war. It’s no coincidence that his ending comes about when he lets go of his own selfish desires and looks at the big picture, and puts the world first, over what would make him happiest. For Rick to grow into a better person, he has to let Ilsa go.

He’s not the only one sacrificing, though.

Throughout the film, the number of sacrifices characters are willing to make are staggering, and it’s quickly obvious that the ones who are willing are heroic, the ones who aren’t are villains. Strasser is very concerned about the risks of having Victor around, but plays it safe. Renault, originally content to do anything to save his own skin, eventually sacrifices his safety in Casablanca for the greater good.

The character who is willing to sacrifice the most is, of course, the most heroic character. Victor Lazlo, having escaped a concentration camp and been pursued by the Third Reich, is willing to give up his wife and his freedom, safety, and life to make sure that Ilsa is safe. He is unaware of Ilsa’s past, and doesn’t feel the need to be. His love and his duty mix together, his goals blend, and therefore, as the most heroic character, the character that might traditionally be the protagonist, he is also the least conflicted character. As a matter of fact, the honor of most conflicted character goes to his wife.

Ilsa’s sacrifice is on both sides. Torn between her husband and the man she fell in love with years prior, Ilsa has little choice in who she boards that plane with, and is uncertain of which man is going with her until the very end. She is willing to sacrifice her life of freedom with her husband to stay with Rick, initially choosing gratification over duty, but in the end, comes to the same conclusion that Rick does: The right thing for her to do is to go with her husband, to freedom.

It’s a bittersweet ending, but it’s also one that ties up all the loose ends, and the only possible satisfactory ending for the characters. The audience feels the same pull as the characters, the same division between duty and desire, but we know, as does Rick, that in the end, he has to look at the big picture. That’s the genius of Casablanca. It asks the audience to consider the same moral questions it asks of its characters:

Are you willing to sacrifice for the greater good?

Rick, like America, is waking up and realizing that he has to do something to fight injustice, and that to do that, he has to be willing to give up his personal happiness, to allow himself to be an idealist, and to keep fighting for lost causes.

The ending is heartbreaking, yes. But unlike heartbreaking endings where we rage against the disservice done the characters, this bittersweet ending is the only possible ending for all of the characters to maintain their integrity, the only way they can all do the right thing.

And we applaud them for it. It’s a perfect ending to what’s pretty darn close to a perfect story. But of course, there’s more to a movie than a story.

In the articles ahead, we’re going to be taking a look at some of the other important elements to the story of Casablanca, so if you enjoyed this one, stick around and join us! Don’t forget that my ask box is always open for questions, requests, comments, or just a conversation. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you in the next article.

#Casablanca #Casablanca 1942 #1942 #40s #Film #Movies #War #Drama #Romance #PG #Humphrey Bogart #Ingrid Bergman #Paul Henreid #Claude Rains #Dooley Wilson #Sydney Greenstreet #Conrad Viedt #Michael Curtiz

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amenomiko · 5 years ago

Text

Ah, My Dear Daughter...

Him and his beloved daughter.

Nobunaga - "Papa, please groom me!"

Obviously it's a first time for him to do it but since his wife is not around, well, he will just do it then.

He randomly put some powder here, a bit of lipstick there, and some eyeshadow here.

Of course, it's MC's make up items that she brought from the future for the first time.

Her daughter is excited and couldn't wait for her mother to come home from her visit in town and so the father is her only hope.

He grinned and nod confidently to himself. "Ooooh what a masterpiece."

She beamed. "Really??" Then she took a mirror and her smile immediately disappear. She sees nothing but a thick white powder, plump lipstick all over her lips, purple eyeshadow and smudge eyeliner on her eyes. Not to mention the HUGE, ROUND blush on her cheeks.

Even Geisha wouldn't make up like this.

She pointed at her face. "This?"

He nodded. "Yes." His smug is still there.

"This? Masterpiece?" She glared.

"Oh yes, not even your mother could win over your beauty. Hmh."

MC went pale at the doorway, and the rustling sound of fallen fabric took both of their attention.

Hideyoshi - No..! It's Dangerous!

Hideyoshi has just finished with the war council, now on his way back to his chamber.

Then he paused, he smells something delicious where it came from the kitchen.

He could hear voices not too far from the place he were standing. It was Masamune and.. A woman's voice? It must be one of the maids--

"What are you doing??"

His daughter jumped. "F-father..! Don't just appear out of no where like that..!"

His eyes wheeled from the hot pot, to grinning Masamune, and to his daughter, and the KNIFE IN HER HAND???

"Wh- what is that thing you are holding now??"

"F-father, obviously this is a knife--"

"It's dangerous! Masamune, stop laughing..!"

"Oh please, Hideyoshi. Your daughter is the one who insist to learn on how to cook from me, and besides, she is very good in handling knives so you don't have to--"

He immediately take the knife away from her. "Don't cut it..! Let me do it!"

"Oh come on, father, I've been doing it all the time when I help mother in the kitchen..!"

"That won't convince me. What if you cut your finger and the bacteria spread all over your body and your face gets swollen??"

His daughter smack her forehead to his overly concerned nonsense while Masamune is laughing so much at this, until his cheeks is cramping.

"Ah, just let your father be. There's always next time--" Hideyoshi glared to the carrots in front of him, "There will be no next time..!"

Masamune shrugged. "Alright, alright, just relax, Hideyoshi. Hey..!" He poke Hideyoshi's butt cheek lightly.

Hideyoshi: Ah--

He cut his finger.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH OAO!!"

"KYAAAAA QAQQQ!!!"

Masamune: Oh f-- I'm screwed (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

Masamune - Daddy, I have a boyfriend!

CLATTER.

MC went "Oh my." to the tea cup that just fell from her husband's grip.

"You-- what??"

He rushed to his daughter, gripping her on the sides of her arms.

Please, please, please, anything but that! God, let him misheard it, she didn't say that she--

"I have a boyfriend Daddy!! His name is Kei and he is sooo handsome!! Ehehehe I'm so happy (ू•ᴗ•ू❁)!!" His daughter, who is barely 6, said it happily and cup her cheeks giddily.

"What- b-b-b..!" Colors has left his body.

MC have to do something before her husband faint. "Anata, it's just a crush among the kids, oh you know, it's just the sweet things between children when they were small-"

"Never underestimate childhood love, my wife." He is all serious now. "This kind of thing must NOT be taken LIGHTLY!" He clenched his fists.

"Ah, no.. Anata-"

"How dare that brat..! He really got the guts to get the heart of my baby kitten..!"

"Anata.. Hello.. Can you hear me ʕʘ̅͜ʘ̅ʔ?"

"This can't do!! There is no other HANDSOME PERSON in this world other than ME \(UAO)/!!

"Is that the main problem here ((((;゜Д゜)))??"

Ieyasu - What are you wearing?

Ieyasu's daughter likes to create a new kind of fashion, a habit that she pick up from her mother.

Not that Ieyasu mind about it.

But he DO mind when the daughter wears it.

For example, she created a new fashion for female ninja like the ones she ever saw in those animation (source: Her Uncle Sasuke OBVIOUSLY) of which the ninjas wear a short yukata where the length reached until their upper knees.

She was so happy with her creation. Twirling herself in front of the mirror, giggling happily whenever she brushed her fingers among the fabric itself.

Ieyasu simply look up from his documents, and goes "Hn." When his daughter showed him the yukata. (MC pursed her lips from holding back her laughter, knowing how contrary her husband's "Hn" is).

Until she said "Okay! Since Uncle Sasuke is around the town I'm going to--"

He raised one of his eyebrows. "..And where do you think you are going?" His tone is grim.

"Well, it's to show Uncle Sasuke this yuka-"

"NO ONE is going out of the town with THAT kind of yukata."

"A-Anata.."

"But-"

"What are you displaying? There's NOTHING to show today or NEVER."

"But I'm not--"

"No BUT'S, nothing, end of conversation."

"Ughhh!!" She stomped her feet, "FATHER YOU- YOU-..!"

He raised another of his eyebrow. "I'm what? Now go and feed the fish at the pond. Go elsewhere but the town." He glared.

Now she is pouting, trembling with anger. "FATHER YOU-- YELLOW WIRE BRUSH (/QAQ)/!!"

"Ah.. And there she goes. Looks like you've earned a new name this week hm? What was it last time? Scrubber for toile-"

"....Stop." He continued to read his documents with (-"-;) face.

Mitsunari - Nabe.

Mitsunari loved his daughter more than anything in this world. She is his angel, his blessings, his gift from God, the flower to his life. Until..

"Father, this is my fiancee, ____! Hehehe he just proposed to me yesterday..!"

She brought her fiancee to meet her parents.

MC was shocked by it, but she was happy. Yet, she is worried for her husband. It might be a big impact for him as his face is still frozen the moment both of them stepped into the room.

Her daughter's fiancee bowed to MC, and when he bowed to Mitsunari, the tactitian still has no any expression on his face.

When suddenly a smile curved on his lips. "Ah, ____. Welcome. Perfect timing of you to come today. We are having Nabe for our dinner."

MC breathe a sigh of relief, but somehow she is still worried because..

Mitsunari's smile didn't reach up to his eyes.

They sat at each other's places, and his "smile" is still there.

"Wow..! We are having meat for tonight?" His daughter cheered. "Yay! Is it from Kobe? Really, Mother?? Yay!!" She turned to her fiancee, "Isn't it great?"

Her fiancee chuckled, "Hahaha you are so cute."

Somehow MC noticed that there's a slight twitch to Mitsunari's smile.

"Oh, allow me to serve you, My Lord." Her fiancee about to take the meat to place on Mitsunari's bowl when he cut his words with "It's alright. You are a guest here. Let me do it."

"Ah, but I insist--"

With the same smile on his face, Mitsunari put a vegetable on the man's bowl of rice instead.

"O-oh, thank you--"

And another. And again, and again,...and again. Until his bowl is FULL of vegetable, while some of it fell of from the bowl itself.

"Uhm-- My Lo-"

Mitsunari gasped softly. "Ohh..! I'm so sorry."

"N-no..! It's alright--"

"It seems to be lacking of more vegetables! Here you go..!" He take the raw vegetables plate and POUR all of it in front of the man.

"F-father / Anata...!" MC and her daughter said in unison.

"Young man has to eat a lot of vegetables don't you think?" His violet eyes darkened. "Hm?"

"Y-y-y-y-yes..!"

Silent anger is more scary than anything indeed.

Mitsuhide - It was an accident!

It took a while for his daughter to convince her father to meet her boyfriend.

Well.. "Boyfriend" because the condition of this meeting is that..

Mitsuhide will decide if the boyfriend is worthy enough to be called as her fiancee.

...And he only agrees because MC is the one who persuade him to do so.

"Anata, it's about time. Come on."

He smiled. "Another one scroll for me to read, my beloved wife."

"..You said the same thing few minutes ago."

Meanwhile, Mitsuhide's daughter and her boyfriend be like:

"I can do this, I can do this,...*takes a deep breath* I can. Do. This." Her boyfriend tremble in fear, his nails dig into his knees.

"I'm so sorry ____. My father is very stubborn." She sighed. "But first, let's have a drink. Just a little bit. Okay?"

"A-a-a-alright..!" He's about to stand when his knees gives in from his nervousness, as well as the cramp from sitting too long in a same position. "WAH (/OAO)/!""Kya- OAO..!" *BAM*

Where at the same time, few seconds ago, MC has been pushing her husband to walk towards the hall, "Unnf come on already! Anata..!"

"I'm just testing his patience, my little mouse, I want to see how long he can-"

A clattering sound startled both of them. "..Anata..?" She started. "It came from the hall..! Is it the enemy??"

"..Stay here." Mitsuhide immediately run towards the meeting hall, slamming the shoji screen open "____..!"

"Ah-""Uh-"

..Only to found his daughter's boyfriend is on top of her and she's at he bottom of him.

MC catch up to her husband since she found him frozen at the doorway "Anata..? What's wro-" She gasped. "Oh my-" Then a low chuckle together with a sound of "click" took her attention. "..Oh no."

"F-F-FATHER! WE CAN- I CAN EXPLAIN..!"

"YES MY LORD, IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK!!!"

"Stop breathing starting from now." He grinned creepily, his eyes gleaming with the eye of a killer.

The very same day, their castle is full with the sound of firing gun and a girlish scream.

Kenshin - Daddy, when I grow up..

"I want to marry Uncle Sasuke..!"

His sake cup paused mid-air the moment his beloved daughter suddenly announce her fantasy dream in the middle of tea time.

"Oho? Well, well, isn't this interesting?" Shingen grinned. "What do you say, Sasuke?"

Sasuke, who has been playing with his Lord's 6 years old daughter were surprised at it but it doesn't last long as he knew that it is just a part of kid's usual thing to say.

Especially when he is indeed the closest Uncle for her since she was small where at times he had helped with baby sitting the girl whenever Kenshin is busy or MC is busy tending to their youngest son.

She loved her other uncles too but Sasuke is always her favorite. Therefore this kind of thing is not really surprising. It's something to be expected of because at times the daughter would always say "I love you..!" cutely to her ninja Uncle.

Despite this.. Sasuke still choose to tease his Lord. And MC knew about it yet choose not to spoil the fun of watching her husband's interesting reaction.

Because Kenshin is still not giving any respond to his daughter's words.

"Anata? Are you alright?" She breaks the silence, holding back her laughter.

"....."

"Well if I am still available by then, yes, let's get married." Sasuke added with the most stoic face ever. As usual. Then he continued with "So, I will have your blessings to have your daughter by then." He bowed.

Shingen snorted and immediately covered his mouth.

"Hmm but this could be a problem."

MC feign a serious expression. "Why, Sasuke?"

"If I marry Kenshin-sama's daughter now, it could be a crime. You know, it's like marrying a loli. Hm.." He nods. "MC. I will take responsibility."

She nodded as well, pursing her lips, she pull out an 'invisible phone' and make a 'call', "Hello police? There's a criminal here."

Yukimura: ʕʘ̅͜ʘ̅ʔ... These two are at it again.

Kenshin, after a few minutes: ...Fine.

MC: HE APPROVED--

Sasuke's own eyes widened. "He approved- oh. Uhm.. Kenshin-sama, my apologies, I was just teasing you."

His Lord frown, followed by a sigh. "You are complicated sometimes." He sip his sake, "You are my ninja and so I trusted you more than any other vassal. What else other than approval would you want?"

"Anata.. That's not the case here." MC, currently stuck in between a surprise or wanted to laugh so bad from her husband's interesting reaction.

Shingen couldn't take it anymore and laugh out loud until he coughed all the dango from his mouth, and were nagged by Yukimura for imitating a hamster.

Shingen - Just WHAT are you wearing??

Everytime MC and her husband travel through time, their daughter will take this chance to hang out with her modern era friends.

One thing about MC's only daughter is that, she is fashionable and is into fashion designs like her mother. Therefore, mostly her wardrobe will be full with her own designs.

Except.. It can be kind of revealing. Unlike Ieyasu's reaction to his daughter when she wear something "revealing", Shingen's will be dramatic.

So there's one time where they had to attend an event to celebrate Sasuke's new invention and the warlords, especially MC and Shingen were invited.

"Oh Anata, I will get back to you to help for your necktie, give me a few minutes alright?" MC resumes her make up before calling for her daughter who is still in her room, "Honey, we are going soon, won't you be late for your outing with your friends?"

After a good 10 minutes she comes out from her room with a crop top and a skirt. "I'm ready~ how do I look, mother?" She beamed.

MC opens her mouth and close it back with a smile. "Yes, it was cute. How about you show it to your father as well? Oh, could you help with his necktie? You know how much your father is not used to it yet." She winked.

"Okie dokie~" She hops to her father, who is still focusing to adjust his necktie, "Father let me help you with that..!"

"Ah, Thank you my beloved ange--AHH OAO!"

She gasped. "What..? What's wrong?"

"Y-you-.. What do you think you are wearing??"

"Oh dear, you scared me, father..!" She huffed and roll her eyes.

"I scared you? Excuse me-- why is it so short??"

"Please, father..! It's the fashion here..!" She's about to turn around and her father were startled once more "AHH OAO!!"

"What now, Father??"

"T-that..! What is that??" He pointed to her bare back.

"Oh it's the latest trend," She whispered, "It's 'backless'."

"Backless- what- MC..! Come here..! Your daughter is--"

"Goodbye~~~ see you tonight Mother~~"

"MC- WAIT- MY ANGEL IS-"

She shushed him. "How about I wear it?"

"Ah, that would be nice-- wait- OAO!"

Yukimura - Sneaky Little Girl

Yukimura had made a rule within himself even before MC is pregnant,

That he will treat his children equally.

Boys or girls, there will be no difference. There will be no special treatment.

"Papa..! I want that." His son said as he pointed to a fabric doll of a bear.

"We have it at the castle."

"But Uncle Shingen is not a doll!" He pouted to his father, while MC snorted "What are you, Anata? Asian mom wannabe?"

"What- what do you mean- no, ___ I won't get you that doll- Hey MC don't buy that for him ୧( ಠ Д ಠ )୨..!"

His sleeves were tugged gently. "...Papa."

Yukimura's face immediately changed from ୧( ಠ Д ಠ )୨ to (ू•ᴗ•ू❁) with "Yesss?"

Both MC and their son: ಠ_ಠ....

"I want that." She pointed at the sweets shop.

"Ahh, you want the chestnut bun? Or the dango? Or the mochi? Or-"

MC coughed. "Anata."

He immediately turn back to "normal". "Uhh. No, can't do. You will get a bad stomach ache. And a cavit-" He froze to his daughter's teary eyes. "..ties.. You will get cavities..! D-don't show that face to me. D-"

"...." She is tugging on her mother's yukata now,..with the same teary eyed look.

"No, you won't convince me otherwise no matter what. You won't--"

"Papa.. You are so evil.." She rub her tears with her small arms. "I just want one of it.. Y-you even bully big brother for not buying him the toy.." She sniffed into her mother's thighs. "Awww honey. I will get it for you okay?""No..! Papa has promised us..! Unn I hate Papa (PД`q｡)!!"

"GAHHHH FINE ୧( ಠ Д ಠ )୨!!!"

The moment Yukimura goes off to buy those things that his children wanted, he didn't know the two of them (which include his own wife) shows "thumbs up" and a high-5 with one another behind his back.

Sasuke - I want to learn to use..

"A sword."

He paused from drawing glasses on his wood block. "Come again?"

His daughter, age of 6, pursed her lips, clenching on her knees and repeat it again, "I want to learn on how to use a sword."

It has always been a dream of his, to make a 'Ninja Squad' with his children. But the moment he got a daughter after 2 sons, he find himself go against the idea. Practically, his daughter is his princess and a princess that must be protected all the time.

"It's nice, but it's still dangerous for you right now." His first born, who has his personality answered in his father's place.

"Agreed. Even if you are learning it now, we won't allow you to use it right away." His second child added.

She pouted, turning to her mother for help, but she only smiled at her daughter. "Your second brother already answer for me, honey." -"This is not fair..!"

Sasuke tried to look away from seeing her upcoming tears, and to make it worse, she scoffed at him with "Fine! I will ask Uncle Kenshin then!"

"Anything but that- alright, I will teach you on how to use ninja bombs then..!"

"Hmph! Ninja bombs is lame!!" She shouted and stomp away angrily.

It's like a lightning struck to Sasuke and his sons : ฅ(๑⊙д⊙๑)ฅ!!

MC: My my (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku imagines #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku Mitsunari #ikemen sengoku ieyasu #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikemen sengoku yukimura #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikemen sengoku sasuke #daughter #ikesen

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years ago

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Episode Spotlight: Murder She Wrote, Season 9, Episode 6: Night of the Coyote

Jessica Fletcher assists the sheriff of an old Western town in New Mexico solve a the murder of a museum owner. In the process, she discovers that the modern mystery may be connected to another mystery of the past: the lost location of a stagecoach robber’s treasure.

By season nine of Murder, She Wrote, the show was well established, well loved, and well watched. Ratings were good, and the show’s location-hopping was keeping the mysteries fresh and interesting. Jessica Fletcher’s travels were taking her all over the world to keep the casualty count of Cabot Cove down somewhat, and as such, in season nine, episode six’s Night of the Coyote, she found herself in New Mexico for what was considered one of the best episodes of the series.

Today, on Episode Spotlight, we’re going to be taking a closer look at the episode in question, analyzing it as both an episode of Murder, She Wrote, and as an episode of television in general.

Without further ado, let’s take a look at the mystery of the Night of the Coyote. Spoilers below!

The episode opens in a town in New Mexico, where mystery writer Jessica Fletcher is visiting an artist friend of hers by the name of Susan Lindsay. Susan has taken Jessica to see a reenactment of the town’s famous legend of a stagecoach robber, Cutter McGee, who was caught by Navajo and killed. Once the reenactment is over, Susan takes Jessica to meet the man responsible for the reenactment, and the revival of the town in general: Max Teller.

Max Teller, as it turns out, owns a museum about the history of the old West town, and encourages Jessica to see it during her stay. Max’s secretary cuts the discussion short, pulling Max away to inform him that he has a meeting with a man called Ben Judson.

Judson, as it happens, wants to buy the town of Silverville from Max Teller, claiming that it’s a fairer deal than the bank (who Judson works for) would give him. Unsurprisingly, Max isn’t selling.

Later, Jessica and Susan are at Susan’s house, where she is showing off her artwork. Also admiring Susan’s work is another writer by the name of Mark Strickland, who is in town researching the silver strike for his book. Max Teller hopes that the book will do extremely well, as it will attract tourism for the small town. Jess mentions that Cutter McGee, the stagecoach robber, was a sea-faring man, as evidenced by the sextant and other nautical navigational equipment that he kept in good condition until he died. Strickland agrees, and points out that the sextant was probably also used while McGee navigated the desert. He also warns Jess not to get Max started on the legend of McGee, or more specifically, the lost treasure that he stole from the stagecoach.

After Max and Strickland leave, Jessica and Susan discuss the fact that Susan is fairly obviously interested in Max. Susan admits that this wasn’t really expected, as she’d sworn off romance since her divorce.

The next morning, Max Teller goes in to work and finds a surprise: an old friend of his, Tony, who demands his portion of an off-shore bank account. Max doesn’t want any part of this, but Tony just says that Max just needs more time. Tony also mentions that Max needn’t call the cops, as Max is ‘clean’ now. On the other hand, the police might be interested to know how Max got the money to buy Silverville in the first place.

The plot thickens.

Meanwhile, Jessica explores the desert while Susan paints. Jess, curious about the landscape and mourning the loss of her favorite pen, wanders off a little ways and hears coyotes howling. Slightly spooked at the noise, further spooking her is the apparently mysterious appearance of a Native American man behind her, sitting on a rock. He tells her that the echoes further up are confusing, and at night, it is easy to see why the shamans believe that the spirit of Coyote brings evil. He says his name is Sam Keeyani, and warns Jessica that the trail becomes treacherous, with loose rocks and skinwalkers rolling around further up. Although Sam says he does not believe in skinwalkers, he does admit that odd movements in shadows do bring their legends to mind. Jessica looks back towards the trail, and when she turns back around, Sam is gone, leaving behind Jessica’s missing pen.

In Silverville, Max goes to confront Earl, one of his employees, as he has learned that Earl has been shortchanging Max on hay deliveries, keeping some for his own profit. Max fires him, which doesn’t bother Earl too much until he learns he is being let go without pay. Upon hearing this, Earl flips.

That night, someone burns down Max’s museum.

The next morning, Jessica and Susan come to make sure that Max is alright, meeting the man Jessica saw in the desert the previous night. Apparently, Sam Keeyani is the sheriff of the town, and is here to investigate the fire. The sheriff proceeds to pick up some dust and watch it trickle away, and examines the sky for a few moments while otherworldly music plays. After he’s finished, he proceeds to ask Max if he has any enemies. Max tells him about firing Earl, but Sheriff Sam discards that theory, asking if there are any other enemies.

Max insists that it was Earl, and Sheriff Sam relents, agreeing to look into it, but he still wants a list of Max’s enemies. Max and Susan head to Max’s office, where Susan offers to help Max rebuild his museum. Max turns her down, shutting her out pretty effectively. Disgusted, Susan leaves, cutting him out of her life.

Meanwhile, Jess and Sheriff Sam enjoy coffee at the police station, where Jessica asks Sheriff Sam what the performance outside the burnt museum was all about. Sam admits that in reality, he was smelling the air for gasoline and examining which way the wind was blowing. He also explains that someone turned in Jessica’s pen, and he quickly figured that only a famous writer would carry a fancy pen like that.

In other words, nothing ‘mystical’ about it, just good deductive skills. However, the unusual way that he does deduce lulls suspects into a false sense of security, and then they slip up.

Sam also tells Jess that he found sneaker tracks outside the burnt museum. He explains that this is what rules Earl out as a suspect, as Earl always wears boots. Charles Strickland shows up with a list of items in the museum that have been presumably lost, admitting that there were items in storage that he never had a chance to document. He then offers Jessica a ride back to Susan’s house while Sam investigates Earl, who’s biggest crime from last night was punching a guy at a bar. Earl was at the bar all night, and has witnesses to back him up. In other words, he’s no longer a suspect.

The next morning, Max’s secretary finds Max dead on his office floor, shot in the chest. Sheriff Sam breaks the news to Susan, who seems surprisingly calm about it, stating that they only went out a few times and that she had no idea about his whereabouts the previous evening. Later, she admits to Jess in private that Susan had wanted to kill Max last night, after his refusal of her help. It turns out that Susan had gone back to apologize to him later that night, and found him with his secretary. She left before they spotted her, and was too upset to talk about it until now.

Jessica informs Sam about this development, and the pair go to question the secretary, who reluctantly tells them that she had some drinks with Max, and listened to him declare that he was about to be rich. She left around 8:30, after Max said he was meeting someone, who, she doesn’t know, but she does mention Ben Judson’s intentions to buy Silverville.

Just then, Sam’s deputies find Max’s old friend Tony driving Max’s car, and bring him in for questioning. Tony explains that he and Max used to own a mail order business, until Tony started getting a bit too greedy. Max turned the state on him, and Tony went to jail. The police never found out about Max’s offshore bank account, and so Max got off scot free. When Tony got out of jail, the money was gone. Tony hadn’t seen Max since the previous afternoon, before long before Max was shot.

Jessica points out that Max was sure telling a lot of people about how rich he was about to become. Sam thinks that Max was going to cave and sell Silverville, but Jess disagrees. Her theory is that it had something to do with the stolen stagecoach treasure. Before she sets off to investigate, Sam tells her that his uncle Ashie says that he has met Jessica Fletcher in his dreams, and asks her if she believes that’s possible. Jessica says that she doesn’t recall meeting Sam’s uncle, but, curiosity piqued, agrees to meet his uncle soon.

Jessica heads to the library, where she discovers that the archive’s newspapers are missing from right around the time that Cutter McGee robbed the stagecoach. The librarian informs her that Strickland had already reported the missing articles, and tells Jessica that the only information left from the time period were some bills, a postcard, and a bond from a company that went out of business in 1905, now utterly worthless.

Jess prepares to leave, bumping into Strickland himself in the process. She tells him why she is at the library, and Strickland pulls out some of his research material to help. In his copy of a book about celestial navigation, Strickland reveals the only known picture of Cutter McGee. Jessica asks Strickland if he knows what exactly McGee stole, but Strickland says that no one knows for sure, and guesses range from gold bullion to bags of silver dollars. Either way, he’s sure it’s worth a fortune by now.

Meanwhile, Sheriff Sam goes to visit Ben Judson, who apologizes for campaigning against Sam as mayor. He informs Sam that the sheriff’s department has never been operating better, and asks what he can do to help. Sam asks for information about his offer to Max for Silverville.

Judson says that he did offer to buy water rights for his herd, and thought it was a fair deal. Max would have gotten his money, and the bank, which Judson is the president of, would have gotten the land without a foreclosure. He tells Sam that he had no motive for murder, however, as the bank had frozen all of Max’s assetts before he was murdered.

That night, Sam takes Jessica to see his uncle Ashie. Jessica asks him if he knows the story of Cutter McGee, and Ashie obliges.

As it turns out, Cutter McGee hid in the desert for a few days before leaving for water. Once he was in the open, the Navajo found him and took his horse, leaving him unharmed. A few days later, McGee’s own people killed him. Jess thanks him, and asks if there’s anything she can do for him.

Uncle Ashie’s only request is for her to sign a copy of her book, as he is quite familiar with the author’s work, hence her appearances in his dreams.

Jess returns to Susan’s house, where she finds her hostess lamenting Max’s death. Jess tells her that she misses her own deceased husband very much, and after all of the things she’s done since his death, her only regret is that he was not there to share it with her. Still, she has made many good friends along the way.

At the sheriff’s office the following day, Sam shows Jessica the autopsy’s results: there was sand in the bullet wound in Max’s chest and his hair. Jessica deduces that the body must have been moved, originally shot somewhere else. Sam has also gotten his hands on Max’s safety deposit box. Inside the box, as it turns out, is Cutter McGee’s diary. Jessica is surprised that such an item would not have been on display in the museum, then figures out why it wasn’t: Max must have thought there were directions to the treasure inside.

Sure enough, letters on the inside of the diary turn out to be longitude and latitude directions, and a map from the library gives Jessica a general idea of where to look, but the area is too big to cover quickly. Remembering Uncle Ashie’s story, Jess recalls that the Navajo only found McGee because they were out looking for rabbitbrush, which only grows in one spot: Coyote Canyon, the place Jessica first met Sheriff Sam.

With a firm destination in hand, the pair set off, finding traces of blood in the canyon and sneaker tracks, just like the ones outside the museum. Sam points out a cave near the top of the hill that the Anasazi used to bury their dead in, and Jess gets an idea for how to catch the murderer.

Jess calls Charles Strickland, telling him that she’s found the treasure. She offers to meet him at the location of the hiding spot so they can open it together, and he agrees. Later, Jess waits in the cave while Strickland arrives. They open the chest, to reveal stacks and stacks of utterly worthless bonds from the business that went bankrupt at the beginning of the century.

Yes, Strickland murdered Max Teller for some worthless paper.

Jessica points out that the fire was started by Strickland, a disguise for the theft of the sextant so that he could use it with his constellation book to find the treasure. She also explains that his interest in the treasure passed academic when he went from discounting the treasure to speculating it’s worth.

Strickland, now surrounded by the cops, admits his guilt.

He explains that shooting Max was an accident. Max was upset that Strickland was looking for the treasure without him, and when Max snuck up on him while he was searching the canyon, Strickland shot him in the ensuing struggle.

Murderer caught, the case is closed, and another day is saved.

So what?

Like most episodes of Murder, She Wrote, Night of the Coyote is on the formulaic side. There is a murder, with plenty of suspects and motives to go around, there are clues that all come back in the end, and it ends with Jess and the local law enforcement celebrating another criminal caught.

So what makes this a good example of Murder, She Wrote, or television in general?

Consistency.

Night of the Coyote has enough red-herrings to keep the audience guessing about motives and killers, but the clues end up pointing in one direction. It’s concise without being too easy, the motive makes sense, and it all adds up in the end.

The suspects are easy to tell apart, with separate motives and connections, making them easier to remember, and allowing the audience to figure out who might have done what, and why. Jessica herself is on point throughout the episode, sharp as a tack and working together with the local law enforcement.

Sheriff Sam is another point in the episode’s favor. It’s always good to see the law working with Jess instead of against her, and here, Sam’s playing up of perceptions of Native Americans is a memorable enough quirk, as well as making a good point. Both he and his uncle are respectful depictions of Native American characters on the show, an improvement over a previous attempt seasons before. He’s competent, intelligent, and human, with enough personality that plays well off of Jessica herself.

Most of the characters within this episode feel a tad more fleshed out than typical Murder, She Wrote, (not surprisingly, as 45 minutes is not a long time for development) and Jessica herself is given a few moments of introspection. Her shared scenes with Susan, reminiscing about her own marriage and her life following her husband’s death are rare gems, windows into Jessica Fletcher’s deeper thoughts and personality.

In other words, Night of the Coyote is an example of the best of Murder, She Wrote.

It’s Jessica’s personality, a good mystery, and memorable characters all wrapped up in a neat package. It’s easy to see why this one became a fan-favorite, standing out among twelve years of episodes, with an interesting mystery linked to the past, and a mystery that’s just tricky enough to keep the audience guessing.

It is these elements that also make it an example of the best of television. It’s engaging, makes you think, and entertains you at the same time. Relatively timeless, the episode manages to maintain a level of intrigue as well as enjoyment throughout the entire episode. Full of distinct characters, scenes, and settings, Night of the Coyote is an excellent showing for Jessica Fletcher, and a must-see for cozy mystery fans, or avid television watchers in general.

Don’t forget that the ask box is always open for anything from suggestions and discussion ideas to questions and conversations! Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope to see you guys in the next article.

#TV #Television #Episode Spotlight #Murder She Wrote #80s #Angela Lansbury #Mystery #Crime #Drama

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otomates-a · 5 years ago

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galaxiasus said: 👫 hi raihan and piers

@galaxiasus ↪ PROMPT!

raihan is usually the one who intrudes upon piers, randomly showing up on spikemuth’s doorstep with sandaconda wrapped around his body clinging to him and an apple in his mouth casually like hey what’s up dude i’m coming in, gently pushes aside some rando team yell grunt in front of him with his index finger. he’s not literally intrusive, though, he makes himself scarce when something is going on or piers is busy, but he does drop by a lot unannounced and will just greet him and go if he needs to. it’s not like it takes long to visit him so he may as well. what i’m getting at is piers prob sees this loser every other day SINCE SOMEONE!!!! WON’T GET!!! THEIR ASS!!! ON SOCIAL MEDIA!!! TO TALK TO HIM!!! forcing him to go to you in person ... is this the STONE AGE.... that said, sometimes it IS the other way around and piers probably shows up at hammerlocke. it always surprises raihan, but he’s thrilled about it. he’ll make time for piers whether he’s busy or not.

i’ve already mentioned it here & there, but piers is one of two people who can really get raihan to put down his phone and actually pay attention to him. the other is leon because obvs he’s close friends with him, but even then sometimes he brushes leon off (albeit humorously.) if piers is around, he’s more likely to have raihan’s attention than his fans are and even though he’ll still take photos & videos & whatever, it’s for fun more than anything else. he likes documenting, very “pictures are worth a thousand words” mindset. piers doesn’t even have to ask him to put it down ever, really. while he’ll still check his updates from time to time, he’ll mostly put it away on his own. especially if they’re outside or setting up camp together to cook for their teams, which he likes to do anyways just for fun. not pictured: all our conversations about raihan literally getting up and ditching an interview mid-filming to chase after piers if he sees him around KJNMHKJHNM. really though if he sees an event as special enough or even if piers requested it of him, he wouldn’t even bring his phone along if they went somewhere together or if piers just needed / wanted some time with his attention safely / solely on him. when raihan doesn’t have his phone on him, he gets a lot Softer, too, even though he’s always a little big of a smug tease.

piers probably fucking dies with raihan even if he starts getting used to him because he isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment romantic, he’s also super physically affectionate and a deep kisser idk how else to word that i’m KJNHM. when raihan kisses piers, it’s 1. completely out of nowhere without any indication it’s going to happen because he’s very spontaneous, 2. extremely clingy which absolutely means 90% of the time he’s not just leaning down to kiss him, he’s hecking PULLING HIM INTO A REALLY TIGHT HUG AND BEING SUPER EXTRA ABOUT IT, 3. not one for simple pecks (usually!!) when he goes for it he REALLY goes for it just... very sudden, deep, hard, tight embraced kisses .... obviously there are exceptions i’m not saying he’s NEVER soft or that he doesn’t do quick touch-and-go pecks or anything like that EVER, those are just more rare and tend to be in “read the room” situations where he’ll prob be less spontaneous anyways. since he also has no filter on PDA, the amount of people who have seen him kiss piers is prob absolutely wild too. raihan kisses him in the middle of a final battle or something, leon and the other gym leaders and the entire galar region nod sagely, exchanging money on the bets they took for when it would happen bc it was GONNA happen at some point during the event KJNHM. marnie is somewhere holding her head in her hands out of secondhand embarrassment. so it goes.

raihan is a bit of a secret romantic behind how smug he is, although he doesn’t let it show very often. he likes to do sentimental things and that part of his personality mostly shines through when he’s interacting with pokemon, whether they be wild / belonging to others / or his own. even though he’s not the greatest cook, he’ll go out of his way to make curry that his team will like and sometimes he’ll bring some over to piers to share with his team, as well. he takes an interest in dark type pokemon once his visits to spikemuth become more frequent. he takes time to get to know each pokemon that piers has and sometimes brings them little gifts once he’s started figuring out a pokemon’s personality. what berries they like, if they like any particular items, etc. but he also does this with piers, hence the romanticism. the more he starts to understand piers, the more often he’ll occasionally bring a gift over for him. usually it’s topical stuff, like things he can use for music / songwriting / etc. other times it’s really silly, like scrunchies with dumb patterns on them for his hair or just some sweets he tried at the cafe and thought it was so good he wanted to share it. he’ll even bring something for marnie sometimes and pass it on to piers to give to her if she isn’t in town at the time. he’d literally buy flowers for piers at some point tbqh. looking at him one wouldn’t expect it, but he just likes all that cheesy stuff & being involved in the world of someone he loves ??? soft.

bonus: raihan learning to appreciate the simplicity of not dynamaxing pokemon and enjoying piers’ style of battling. he constantly tells piers that one day he’s going to beat him in the finals and when he manages that, he wants the two of them to convince leon to do a double battle against them together.

bonus x 2: piers saying i love you aloud may be a little rare, but with raihan it is not. he says it often. loudly or quietly. energetically and calmly, when need be. in front of others and alone. when piers needs to hear it and when he doesn’t.

bonus x 3: since sb won't hecking invest in social media and texting skills, raihan communicates with piers back and forth via bird mail just shove a letter in a pelipper's beak and pray i guess. you: piers will send him letters just to tell him he's feeling sad. me: bitch i raise you raihan sending him a letter just to say good morning & good night don't fucking teST me.

#galaxiasus #i always do more than 4 with this meme #every single time #i can't shut up w headcanons #anyways enjoy dumpster diving life u baby #「 galaxiasus | piers/raihan ❛ ◟ in the rain humming melodies‚ every word you write or sing is so warm to me. 」#「 raihan ❛ ◟ feels just like i don't try‚ looks so good i might die. 」#「 headcanon. 」

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lnicol1990 · 5 years ago

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The Dark Domain - Session 5

This week, we were a player short as he’d been called in for work. It was surprisingly immersive considering what had happened to his character(s) last week.

Anyway, on with the session!

It’s a new day in Gorvick.

Atlas sets up breakfast for the party, moving a scholar from his table in the corner to claim it for the group. He does help the man move his papers and documents and even buys his breakfast for him. He orders bacon and eggs and to keep them coming, and then takes a seat at the table, waiting patiently for the others.

Irah awakens with his usual energy and carefully dons his civilian clothing over his Domain armour. Once ready, he slips his Ring of Subterfuge on and cheerfully exits his room. He knocks on Kaieth’s door and loudly calls out to his colleague. He can hear banging from beyond the door before the elf curtly calls out, saying that he will meet Irah downstairs. Irah agrees and makes his way to the staircase. He is stopped by a little girl asking him if he wanted her to clean his room, but he politely declines.

Kaieth emerges once Irah is gone. He is extremely sullen and glares at the little girl when she offers to clean his room, not apologising when she begins to cry.

The trio sit down for breakfast, Atlas and Irah happily tucking in the mound of bacon and eggs, while Kaieth touches nothing. When a serving girl asks them for drinks, Kaieth asks for water, along with an apple, and Irah joins him. Atlas asks for wine, but relents to juice when the girl mentions that the bar doesn’t serve hard drinks so early.

Left alone as the girl tends to their order, they get down to business. They ask Atlas what he can tell them about Gorvick and he points them to Priestess Trill, the head of Gorick’s religious section. He reveals that she’s a re-educator, and all the re-educated in town are her doing. He mentions that there is absolutely no crime in Gorvick, and that he’s overheard rumours about there being more to this than meets the eye. He also notes that he has never seen Trill without a two guard escort.

Everyone agrees that this Trill needs investigating. But first, they need to complete their paperwork.

Kaieth asks about the man they were told about last night, and Atlas points to the scholar he’d moved earlier. Kaieth then turns to Irah and asks which of them would approach the man. Atlas excuses himself, saying that he already has his paperwork sorted and he needs to clear his tab.

They are interrupted by the serving girl, who asks Irah if he’ll speak to her brother. A thug had landed on the boy during the scuffle the previous night and when Irah had helped him out, the lad had been rude. Apparently, the boy was now terrified that Irah would report him and send him away for re-education.

Seeing the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, he tells Kaieth that he should deal with the lad immediately and that the elf should deal with the scholar and the paperwork. Kaieth glares at him disapprovingly before resigning himself to the task.

The scholar is all too happy to help, requiring only a small administration fee and a few questions answered so he can fill in the rest. Kaieth pays upfront and sits down, preparing for a long list of questions.

The first question immediately takes him off guard, when the scholar asks for their names. Kaieth answers honestly, but instantly recognises that Irah might need to use a false one. He leans over to the nearby aasimar and asks him for help. Irah answers with ‘Solaris’, but Kaieth doesn’t catch the pronounciation and garbles it to ‘Philamoris’. This earns an eyebrow from the scholar as that is apparently a lady’s name. Kaieth manages not to snigger.

The second question is almost as hard as the first, when he asked where they are from. Kaieth decides to answer literally by saying they are from Quain. The scholar is shocked at the implication that an aasimar was born in the quiet fishing village, but theorises aloud that that must be why the aasimar priest had been sent over. Kaieth just nods noncommittally, silently relieved that a cover story just wrote itself.

The third question is what their business in Gorvick is, with the fourth follow up question being how long they intended to stay in town. Kaieth goes along with the newly formed cover story and explains that they are looking for Father Saepin as he disappeared a couple of days ago. He guesses that they won’t be in town longer than two weeks and the scholar writes all the answers down.

The man then tells Kaieth that it’ll take him a couple of hours to sort the documentation out and the elf begins to take his leave. The scholar stops him, holding out a hand but not actually touching the elf. He gives a side glance to Irah and then warns Kaieth that they should probably stay clear of Priestess Trill. When pressed, he explains that the woman thinks of herself as above her station, and often likes to butter herself up to anyone she thinks is a visiting dignitary.

Kaieth thanks him for the warning and everyone leaves the inn, deciding to take in some air.

As they walk through Old Town, they walk past an older human priest. They all notice that he has a blue gem in the centre of his forehead. Kaieth recognises the meaning from the book he’d read before leaving the Domain, while Irah and Atlas know from living in Pentalis that the gems colour means he is a priest of Bonnel, Goddess of law and order. The man smiles at them as they pass and they go about their respective businesses.

As they enter the market, the lady stall owner from the other day calls them over. She thanks Kaieth again for saving her life, which makes the elf feel awkward from the gratitude. She offers him a small pouch, apologising that it isn’t much but that she would like him to have it. Realising that it’s a reward, Kaieth immediately declines, explaining that he did not help her for a reward. The woman is even more grateful and calls him extremely kind, unaware that she is making him more uncomfortable, and insists that he have something from her stall instead.

Atlas takes hold of the opportunity and asks the woman for a bouquet of flowers, as she has a small collection at the back of her stall. She happily makes up a small arrangement for him, with blue as the lead colour as requested. When it comes to payment, she asks if he’s part of the group or if he will have to pay for the flowers. Kaieth relents and says he’ll take the bouquet as a reward, if only to appease the woman, and quickly moves away from the stall.

As he’s about to leave the market, the young boy from the other day hisses to get his attention. The boy opens with awe at Kaieth for taking down ‘the orc woman’, much to Kaieth discomfort, which gets Atlas’ attention. But the goliath has little time to voice interest before the boy grabs everyone attention by asking them if they want some of her stuff.

When asked what he’s talking about, the boy explains that he takes the personal items of the re-educated and sells them, as the people won’t need them. Irah immediately chastises the boy, saying that stealing like that will get him in trouble, but the boy defends himself. He explains that Priestess Trill allows him to take what he can carry. Everyone is a little sceptical but do take a look at his stall.

Irah sees Rolfor’s wand that he lent his sister and tells the boy that its important and that he’d like it back. Hearing that, the boy picks it up and hides it behind his back, demanding two silver pieces for it. Irah is able to convince the lad to drop the price, pointing out that he thought it was a broken fire-starter and that an honest seller wouldn’t change prices like that.

Kaieth notices jewelery on display and asks the boy if he took the orc woman’s necklace. He confirms that he did and pulls said necklace out. He states that no one will probably want it as its so ugly and asks for a copper piece. Kaieth gives him a gold. The elf then looks at his other wares and sees a lockpicking set that is in surprisingly good state and a dagger with a strangely sharp edge to it. He asks for those as well and offers the boy his warhammer in trade, but the boy turns him down. The lad explains that’s better off sold at the New Town’s indoor market as no one in Old Town could afford it. Kaieth then hands over three more gold pieces to the boy, who had only asked for five silver.

Atlas looks over the merchandise but doesn’t buy anything. Once the boy has locked up his stall and once again bolted over the wall, he mentions that Irah and Kaieth should probably keep their new purchases well hidden as that’s likely how the boy makes his money, by selling the same contraband over and over to gullible shoppers.

They continue walking and visit the warehouse section, stopping briefly to let a woman pass them to enter the docks. They then watch three men enter from New Town, one ordering the other two. They notice that the subordinates are silent, with a blank look on their faces. Atlas explains that those two are a couple of the many re-educated in town, at which point, Irah adds that that means they’ve been stripped of thought, personality and everything that made them individuals. Both agree that it’s a fate worse than death.

They stay motionless as they watch the trio take stock from the warehouses and return to New Town. At which point, the woman from before asks to get through again. They move out the way to let her pass and Kaieth grumbles about the walkway being so narrow. The woman overhears and explains that it was never enlarged when the town expanded, so everyone just has to deal with it.

Sensing that they’re getting in the way, the group decide to head back to the inn. They don’t encounter anyone else wanting to talk to them and make it back to the inn without incident. They return to their table from before and don’t have time to order a drink before the scholar approaches with the finished paperwork.

Kaieth notices that the man has a peculiar scar on his forehead and asks as tactfully as possible if he had his gem removed, recognising that it is in the same area as every other priest they’ve seen. The man assures him that it was nothing as crass as that. He explains that human priests don’t have the same divine spark as aasimar, and they need to be given one. The final test is a ritual to gain a connection to one of the five and that none of them connected with him, thereby failing the test and not becoming a priest.

The man shurgs, seemingly unconcerned with the outcome, and returns to his work.

Paperwork now in hand, they return to the warehouse district and approach the gate sentry. Atlas greets the man on duty and shows his pass, used to the procedure. Irah and Kaieth both show their paperwork and their seals of entry, which are promptly stamped after a cursory glance over their documents.

On the streets, they see re-educated milling about the streets doing menial labours. The Old Town urchin is speaking desperately to one of them, showing the man the gold coins he’d earned from the group, but getting no reaction from him. The group notice a resemblance and figure that the man is the boy’s father and leave the pair alone.

They enter into the indoor market and see a variety of shops. Kaieth sells off his unused armour, not needing it due to his training. They are about to leave when they see the urchin rush in and run over to a shop. He’s only in there for a few moments before he quickly leaves, dropping a scrap of paper which Kaieth reads.

He calls to the boy about dropping the paper, who snatches it back and leaves. With nothing else of interest, the group also leave.

They make their way to the church and enter. Upon entering they see Priestess Trill preforming a noon-time sermon, which causes Irah to hang back. Kaieth follows Irah’s lead, while Atlas strolls up to the woman. The duo watch as a pair of guards quickly fall in behind behind the goliath, obviously prepared to deal with him should he start anything.

Instead, Atlas merely drops to one knee and presents Trill with the small bouquet of flowers, a charming smile on his face. Trill, without missing a beat, takes the flowers, moves them to her other hand, and gives them to the guard. Atlas quietly mutters his disappointment, apparently sure that this time he’d gotten the colour right.

Trill ignores him and continues her sermon. When she finishes, Atlas gives her a standing ovation, which she ignores and walks over and speaks to a young acolyte. Atlas tells her that he’s brought some people he thinks she’d like to meet, at which point she gives him a scathing look of indifference and then returns her attention to the acolyte. Once she’s finished her discussion, she then allows Atlas to show her to these people.

The moment her eyes land on Irah, she walks to him with an overly cheerful smile on her face. She is gracious and fawning to the aasimar, giving Atlas and Kaieth barely a moment’s notice. She does commend Irah on his ‘charity’ for having Kaieth as his bodyguard, a sentiment that irks both of them, and asks Kaieth if he is one of the Blackleaf refugees.

This instantly puts Kaieth on edge, but he stiltedly replies that he is. He glares at Trill with barely concealed hatred as she goes on about some of the elves remaining loyalists while the rest were exiled with the Domain, but she has returned her attention to Irah, who is doing only a slightly better job at hiding his dislike of the woman. Knowing that this could easily lead to a poorly timed, anger-fuelled confrontation, he forces himself to calm down and mention to ‘Philamoris’ that maybe they should see about getting accommodation as the journey to Gorvick has been a long one.

Irah agrees, realising that he’s already used up four of the six hours before the ring runs out of power to disguise him, and excusing them from the church. Trill asks if he will come for the evening service but he declines, saying that he is tired and should rest. But, not wanting to insult the woman and arouse suspicion, he promises to attend evening service tomorrow. She accepts his compromise and bids them farewell.

The party quickly leave the church and once outside, Irah asks Kaieth if he is okay, clearly aware that Trill’s words upset the elf. He lays a hand on Kaieth’s shoulder and the man reacts instinctively, tearing himself away and pulling a dagger out in preparation to defend himself. Kaieth catches himself before he does anything else and quickly puts the blade away, apologising to Irah. He explains that he has an old injury on that shoulder that twinges from time to time, and asks the aasimar not to touch there again, to which Irah assures him that he won’t and apologises if he’d unintentionally hurt his friend.

Kaieth tries to brush the conversation off and Irah notices that the topic is a sore one, and drops it. He does his best to keep the group mood light by suggesting that they find accommodation. Kaieth and Atlas agree on this, with the elf suggesting they take rooms in the nearby inn. Atlas mentions that it will be a lot more expensive than Old Town’s inn, but Kaieth argues that it’s closer to their target and they’ll be able to conduct surveillance better there than in Old Town. Irah agrees, adding that it will be quicker to get to the nearby inn than Old Town should he lose track of time, which confuses Atlas.

Kaieth and Irah enter the inn with Atlas following, and learn that the inn is a great deal more expensive than Old Town, but decide to bear it and rent three rooms. They all enter one and Irah takes off his ring, showing Atlas his true appearance for the first time. At first, Atlas is even more confused, not understanding why Irah is hiding, but accepts that he does look different to most aasimar. Once it has been explained that the ring is for subterfuge purposes, Atlas shrugs in agreement.

As they are trying to figure out what they can do in Irah’s remaining two hour window, Kaieth notices Trill leave the church and enter a large, important looking house to the west. When he asks about it, Atlas mentions that it’s the mayor’s house, though admits that he hasn’t seen the mayor in the week that he’s been in town.

They decide that the mayor should be their next person of interest and agree to spend the remaining time introducing themselves to the mayor. As they head towards the house, Trill is leaving it with her escort. She voices surprise at seeing them, but Irah quickly bluffs that he’s just getting some of the evening air before they retire for the night, with his bodyguard and guide following him.

He mentions that he had also been planning to introduce himself to the town mayor as a courtesy, but Trill tells him not to bother, explaining that she just came from there and that the mayor will not be seeing anyone for the rest of the day.

He and Kaieth share a quiet, suspicious look, and the elf asks why the mayor isn’t seeing visitors. Trill responds by telling them that the mayor is often sick and that this is one of his bad days, which she attributes to the stress of being mayor. Irah asks what the man is sick with, and offers his limited services, to which Trill says that she does her best for the man but concedes that a ‘Greater One’ such as himself might be able to help where she cannot.

When asked what being mayor has to do with being sick, she explains that there were a lot of Domain sympathisers who wouldn’t leave when the man took power seven years ago. This division caused a great amount of stress and when things got to a head, she had been forced to re-educate the unrepentant.

Irah’s pleasant smile goes very brittle.

She mentions that she told the mayor about them and that he will likely want to meet with them once he’s feeling better. She asks if they are staying in the nearby inn, which Kaieth confirms that they are, and she recommends that they try the roasted gor for dinner as it is a local delicacy. The elf thanks her and the group watch as she goes about her business.

Once she is out of earshot, Kaieth immediately announces that Trill is lying. She answered too quickly concerning the mayor, and her words sounded rehearsed. The group wonder if she’s done something to the mayor, or is holding something over him to maintain power.

It is suggested that they break into the mayor’s house that night and find out what’s going on, but quickly realise that Irah’s ring will run out of power soon and Atlas is not someone who could be easily hidden. As such, they agree it is probably best that Kaieth goes alone.

They return to the inn and wait for night. As the sun begins to set, Kaieth makes his venture out. He strolls through town casually for a while, watching the locals close up stalls and businesses for the night.

When he gets to the mayor’s estate, he sees a man gardening. When he asks the man if it isn’t getting late for that, he receives no response. He realises that the man has been re-educated and is paying him no attention, and so quietly slips into a dark corner of the garden and makes his way around the house.

Aware that a large house like the one before him usually has more than one way in or out, Kaieth looks for one. He makes it all the way around the back before he sees a servant’s entrance on the south western side of the building. It opens as he spots it, forcing him to keep to the darkness, and a man steps out and walks away. He can hear a voice from the front and moments later the man returns with the re-educated in tow. The door closes and locks.

As Kaieth is about to leave, feeling like he has done all he can for now, he hears voices from inside through the nearby window. He crawls over as close as possible and listens in.

He can hear three voices, one man, one woman and a little girl. He hears the little girl telling the others about her day, telling them about what her tutor had taught her. The woman is praising the girl, seemingly proud of her every accomplishment. The man is also praising the child for her studies, but then turns the topic onto a party. He mentions that he’s inviting some dignitaries or such over in a few days, and how it would mean the world to him if “she would play piano for Daddy”. This seems to excite the girl and she starts hurriedly saying that she would and promises that she’ll play her best songs for him.

Suddenly, the girl goes silent and begins coughing and wheezing. There is the sound of chairs screeching against the floor and a rush of footsteps. The man begins shouting, ordering that Priestess Trill be sent for. Another step of footsteps are heard and there is a bang of the main doors being flung open as someone is running, clearly towards the church. The woman is desperately trying to calm the girl, telling her to breathe slowly and promising that Trill will be there soon. The sound of footsteps return and Trill’s voice can be heard, telling the girl to stay calm and to just breathe.

Kaieth is lying in the grass, frozen, his mind racing. He wonders why Trill lied about the mayor being sick, when it’s his apparent daughter who is the one suffering. Also, with Trill now there, and her escort supposedly, he realises that he may be stuck there for a long time.

Regardless, he concludes that he’s learned enough and slowly inches back into the bushes, hoping he will harder to spot in the treeline. He quietly returns the way he came and checks the other side of the building. When he sees no one, he decides to risk getting back to the inn and is amazed that no one has noticed him. Without another thought, he swiftly returns to the inn and Irah’s room.

Once safely inside and sure the door is locked and no one is listening, he tells the others what he found out. Irah and Atlas are both mystified as to why Trill would tell them that the mayor is ill instead of the child. Irah wonders aloud if they might be able to use the girl’s sickness to their advantage, but is unsure as to how as they don’t know precisely what is wrong with her. Kaieth states that he thinks they should wait for a summons from the mayor, as he seems to be planning a party of sorts in a few days and that they’ll have their chance then. The other agree and conclude that there’s nothing else they can do for now and should retire and wait for the summons.

And so the session ends.

#D&D #The Dark Domain

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