#yeah i mean we all knew the extension was incoming

[il-predestinato]

thoughts on the charles contract extension rumours and the other guy apparently having a harder time finalising his?

My thought is that it's an opportunity for Scuderia Ferrari to be the funniest team on the paddock:

[nikkisticki]

They've done a Q&A to talk about this and I'm going to be frank, they gave a bunch of really bad answers that largely reek of them throwing up their hands and going "Well it's too much work to add more guns to the game because we'd have to make more dlc skins for every old dlc and balancing things are head!", which is nonsense as nobody is holding them to that standard besides themselves.

People want new build opportunities more then cosmetics, so they release more cosmetics.

If you take a peek at the comments someone did a transcript of one of the two responses they've uttered and it's starkly just a lot of half answers while they say things like "Deep Dives are the end game!" even though it's not an end game! Deep Dives reward you very little (a cosmetic/weapon/blank core for each stage) for WAYYYY too much time spent when everything can be lost the moment the medicore servers hiccup and disconnect you. They aren't something you do repeatedly, you do them once a week and then forget about the game.

As it stands, the end game is THE NORMAL GAME but longer and more annoying, so much so that most people rarely do them.

I don't understand what they think endgame means, but I'm starting to think they don't either. People want something substantial to throw themselves at, instead they just say "well we made hardcore content" and stare past the question, something they've done for years.

Oh, they think end game = difficult, which is also wrong and silly in the game where you're in end game after a single promotion.

I could honestly sit here for hours and point out how many of these responses are no better then corpo speak, but here's a few obvious ones:

[Q] GSG have plenty of incomming games, why do a DRG RC ? I really don't see the point of doing that game, should of been a extension, and if this were the case it would of been really GREAT. I'm afraid you play with the future of DRG 😢 [A] Because we think it's going to be super fun, and it became clear to us pretty quick that what we want to do would not be suited for a DRG expansion. An expansion would be much smaller, and much more restricted, than what we intend Rogue Core to be. [A] It started as an expansion for DRG, but as it grew it quickly became obvious that the scope of what we wanted to do would be much better for a new game entirely

Translation:

The statement "This was meant for the base game" is always just a sign that they realized how much more fat stacks they'd make if they could resell cosmetics, change said cosmetic sale model and/or get a secondary stream of income from both that and purchasing the game.

Of course, they just accidentally revealed that this could have been the new Season 5 update that would have revitalized the game. Instead, it's too hard, sorry!

There's maybe ten responses to "this is a stupid idea" with them responding with "Yeah we knew you'd feel that way! Trust me, it'll be worth it!" while not displaying a single reason why that would be or why anyone should trust them when the last good update was the new weapons two years ago.

Someone told them you can spend positive feelings on your content and they misunderstood and thought that the community would still be there in a year of nothing to do after multiple years of nothing to do.

People play Deep Rock Galactic for the progression. It's about getting new gear, new cosmetics, new builds, collecting more shiny rocks and gold and becoming better at the game. It's not about getting a Legendary Flaming Minigun that you'll have for fifteen minutes or shooting bugs at all moments of the run, which sure is what they are describing as the game that's going to detach all of their current progress and run them back to zero.

Oh, and also they promised that large content updates for Deep Rock Galactic are done forever

Please look forward to season 5 being admitted by the devs as being as undercooked as the last.

The way they are responding automatically to questions really speaks of someone having coached them on what to say, and I really don't think they grasp what's going to happen if and when Rogue Core fails to launch.

There's probably not many people talking about Deep Rock on here, but DRG is being put into a freezer filled with meaty tendrils for 8 months (or more) so they can slamjam out a standalone roguelike version of the game.

I think a lot of people were already pretty confused by them having that secondary team making a Vampire Survivors clone, and the board game, but now we're looking at the game that few people are satisfied with the state of as the games best time is long past most dwarves. The best grinds are for Overclocks which quickly run out and leave you with nothing but grinding for cosmetics (90% of which are slightly different versions of beards). Add on that the game is being left on an event which I've regularly heard people say they'd prefer having the robots back (and everybody fucking hated the robots)

The general issue is that rockpox demands specific build types to overcome which ruin players desires as they need pinpoint damage, which then requires more attention and drags down the experience. Robots required heat, but heat was easy to obtain on many builds.

Not a good choice for several reasons, mainly that heavy combat wasn't the main draw of this game and ultimately will fracture it's own playerbase, rendering DRG drained of its more combat focused players on top of the slow entropy of players leaving due to BEING FUCKED BY ROCKPOX for 8 months.

Add on the fact that they are acting as if the ALPHA of this new game won't need continued effort applied to it, which means the main game will slow down even further, thus leading to the same problem of players leaving faster then they'll join.

This is not the way forward to keeping this brand growing, this is how you get elongated YouTuber videos talking about the good ol days. You don't want that.

[thekatebridgerton]

Where are you getting that Kate’s family was wealthy??? Because if that were the case, she never would have needed to make a deal with the Sheffield’s for Edwina’s dowry or Mary’s living after her father died? Her father wasn’t a nobleman or part of the landed gentry, and neither was her birth mother. To use something Anthony said for his requirements, biologically, she isn’t considered to be of ‘good breeding’?? The fact that it was a massive scandal that Mary married Mr Sharma suggests that actually yes, it is a bit of a big deal?

You know I debated on if I should delete this ask on account of your impeccable rudeness and lack of critical thinking anon. But I decided not to.

1) I never claimed Kate's father was wealthy. In fact I tried to clarify that he was not.

2) let me direct you to the definition of Gentleman according to Enciclopedia Britannica where the word wealth or riches is never alluded to.

By that definition, Kate's father was indeed a respectable gentleman. Had he been rich by the ton standards, his marriage he to Mary wouldn't have been a scandal. Since he wasn't and was engaged in the practice of actually working for his own income at the point he met Mary.

Then yes it was a scandal.

My point in the previous post was that never was Kate's legitimacy put into question by either Mary or Edwina. The term 'good breeding' as I'm sure Lady Catherine DeBourgh would love to explain. Largely depends on the personal interpretation of the person making the statement.

Since the judgment of what it means to be well bred according to the dictionary is simply

noun. Good manners and courteous behaviour resulting from a good upbringing, especially among the upper classes. Also occasionally: the good upbringing evidenced by such manners.

Yes it can also be an expression of doubt towards a gentlewoman social background but in upper class society verbally doubting someone's social background in public and among nobles who supported/ like that person, has always been both incredibly rude and an indication of ignorant education and tasteless etiquette.

Mary's elopement was a scandal because she eloped with a man who wasn't wealthy that's it. She was the diamond and married Kate's father despite him not having money. (Note that By ton standards poverty is measured different than normal person standards) Kate's father for all we know didn't have 3 houses in Mayfair, but just one.

Kate's father may not have been a nobleman but he was considered a respectable gentleman, so by extension so was Kate, although however respectable, her father did elope with the daughter of a nobleman. That's sort of thing is frowned upon, This is what caused the Sheffield's disdain for Kate and made them ridicule her parentage.

But Anthony already knew that and he didn't care. So the Sheffield's just came off as a vulgar couple with no manners or social awareness at all

So yeah, Kate IS considered of good breeding the Sheffield's were just being dicks.

Does that answer your question?

[marjansmarwani]

trust that there will be light always waiting behind

8.4k || ao3

TK has gone out of his way to prove to Carlos that being a paramedic is every bit as dangerous as being a firefighter, it seems.

But Carlos will do whatever it takes to find him and bring him home safe, and he always will. Even if it means he needs to face some personal demons on the way. But it's worth it - he refuses to lose TK for anything. ------ A 2x08 speculative fic

All the kudos and thanks to @officereyes for not only convincing me to actually write this but for also brainstorming with me, a lot. 

Will it happen like this? Probably not. But we can dream. All I can ask for is some quality Carlos and his dad content, and maybe Owen not being as shitty as he has been lately. But because I don't trust Fox to give us that, I wrote it.

Title from "Six" by Sleeping at Last

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

TK wasn’t sure how things had gone from normal to total nightmare in a matter of seconds, but here they were. 

In this case “here” meant that the pregnant woman they were meant to be helping was not in fact, pregnant and that he and his team were now being held at gunpoint in an empty parking garage. 

So yeah, total nightmare. And the day had started off so well. 

He stood quietly, body tense with his hands up wishing he had been paying more attention; that he had noticed them coming from behind before they had gotten the drop on them. That he had noticed before he and his team were in danger. But he hadn’t and here they were: at gunpoint looking at a critically injured patient they were expected to save with only the gear in their medpacks. Which was especially bad, considering it seemed pretty clear that their survival depended on his. 

He exchanged a glance with Nancy as he pulled open the bag to start grabbing gear, doing his best to shoot her a reassuring smile. All the while he couldn’t help but think about something Carlos had said when he had discussed becoming a paramedic with him. One of the pros, he had noted wryly as he planted a kiss on the top of TK’s head, was that at least his boyfriend being a paramedic instead of a firefighter would mean he would have to worry less. TK had rolled his eyes at the time but now he could say quite firmly that Carlos was wrong. 

After all, he had never been held at gunpoint as a firefighter. 

----------

A surprise party worked best when the person who is supposed to be surprised shows up, Carlos figured. 

If it were anyone else, he might have been amused. But it was TK, who was supposed to be at his parent’s house for his surprise party 40 minutes ago. Tommy and Nancy were going to bring him by after shift but instead, none of them had shown up and Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

He could see the unease growing in the eyes of some of the others too as they made the transition from amused to concerned as the time ticked by. Carlos had tried calling TK almost a dozen times now, only to get his voicemail each time. He knew that Tommy and Nancy had gotten calls too, from Judd and Marjan respectively, with the same result. Now, 40 minutes later it had moved from a feeling to a fact: something was wrong. He could see Owen off to the side of the yard now, speaking lowly into his phone as he tried to get an update from dispatch. His expression was grim and when he ended the call Carlos crossed the yard towards him. 

“Well?” he asked when he drew close enough, “what did they say?” 

Owen shook his head, “They can’t reach the unit, and it hasn’t been in contact for over an hour.” 

Carlos could feel the fear solidifying within him even as he asked the next question, “Were they able to tell you where?” 

“I’m waiting on that info now.” 

Even as he said it his phone dinged with an incoming text and Carlos craned his neck to read the address over Owen’s shoulder. 

“That’s not too far,” he said, “if we leave now we should be there within the hour.” At Owen’s surprised look he raised an eyebrow, “What? You thought I was just going to stay here while you go look for them? Not likely.” 

Owen nodded and managed a small smile, “Let’s go then. We have a paramedic team to find.” 

--------

It took some negotiating but Tommy had managed to ultimately convince the people with guns that their friend would be better off receiving treatment in the ambulance rather than in the back of a van. As they packed up their supplies and got the patient ready to move to the ambulance TK’s mind was racing through all the implications. This move meant that they were planning on relocating, which meant that they would be leaving their last known location. Once they left this parking garage unless they were somehow able to check-in, dispatch would have no way of knowing where they were and they would be officially labeled as MIA. 

Which was less than ideal, but did at least mean that someone would be looking for them. TK pushed the used gauze into a pile, taking care to make sure that his back was turned to their kidnappers as he reached for his neck and pulled at his necklace until the chain came undone. He slid it under the edge of the pile, where it would hopefully be spotted by anyone looking for clues. He looked up to see Nancy and Tommy both giving him curious looks. He met their eyes and mouthed, “Carlos.” 

Once they were reported missing there was a zero percent chance that his boyfriend would not be involved in the search, he knew that without a doubt. It was subtle enough that it would hopefully pass their captors’ notice, but Carlos would recognize it instantly. It was something that would tell him that they had been here, and that they were in danger. Carlos would know that TK wouldn’t have parted with the pendant otherwise. 

Nancy raised an eyebrow and Tommy shot him a quick smile as they finished their prep and got ready to move the patient. When they entered the ambulance and got the patient settled TK crossed to the cab and pulled himself into the driver’s seat, only to look down and get a sinking feeling. While traveling by ambulance would be ultimately better for the patient (and by extension, them) TK had also been banking on the fact that once in the ambulance there would be more opportunities to call for help. 

Which was a hope quickly dashed when he saw that their radio had been ripped out, effectively eliminating the possibility of getting help that way. TK bit his lip and turned his eyes to the road in front of him as the armed man climbed into the cab beside him. “Drive,” he instructed plainly and TK complied, switching on the engine and shifting the vehicle into gear, acutely aware of the gun leveled at his chest the entire time. Getting shot was not an experience he had been looking forward to relieving ever again if he could help it. 

“Where to?” he asked.

“Just drive and I direct you.” 

TK nodded and slowly pulled forward, keeping his eyes trained on the road. 

Maybe, just maybe these people were more reasonable than they seemed and maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster, TK thought to himself as he pulled out of the parking garage and headed to the right as instructed. They just need to keep everything calm until help arrived. Because it would, TK was sure of it. 

--------

The ride there was filled with tense silence, their combined anxiety filling the car to capacity and leaving no room for words. Carlos kept an eye on the phone in his hand, the small blue dot tracing their location and showing their progress as they grew closer and closer to the destination flag. They were almost there. They would have answers soon, one way or another. 

He spared a glance at Owen. The fire captain’s eyes were glued to the road and his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles shining white against the black upholstery. His jaw was set and his expression was full of a panic Carlos was sure was reflected in his own face. He wondered if Owen was thinking the same thing: things had been going so well. Possibly too well, and now the universe was looking to even the score. Carlos hated the thought — TK deserved all the good things the world had to offer, in his opinion — but it was one he couldn’t help but wonder. He just hoped that no matter what, TK would be okay. No matter what the universe was trying to throw at them as long as he was safe at the end, Carlos could take it. 

Reaching the parking garage had been the easy part, it turned out. He and Owen drove the levels in tense silence, each scanning for any clues, any signs of the missing paramedics. It wasn’t until he saw a black panel van parked haphazardly that Carlos broke the tense silence: “Stop the car!” 

Owen did and Carlos was out his door before the car had even lurched to a complete stop. He ran to the van, heart sinking as he noticed the back doors hanging open. He approached with increased trepidation, not sure what he was hoping to find. When he reached the back and got his first look inside the van, he was pretty sure this wasn’t it. 

Bloody gauze and other medical scraps littered the ground, along with three broken cell phones, all of which seemed to have been smashed. Carlos could feel dread building in his gut as he surveyed the destruction. He sensed Owen come up behind him, heard the low curse he let out at the scene. 

“There’s no saying any of the blood is theirs,” he reminded Carlos as if he could read the frantic thoughts racing through his mind, each possibility worse than the last. 

Carlos bit back a retort — there was no good in reminding Owen that there was no saying it wasn’t either — and was about to ask another question when he noticed something silver poking out from under one of the gauze scraps. He leaned forward to grab it, heart sinking when he pulled it out to reveal a very familiar necklace. 

“Maybe,” he told Owen as he turned, holding up the necklace while the FDNY pendant glinting in the low light of the parking garage, “but they were definitely here.”

Carlos hadn’t been sure it was possible but he was certain he saw the fear in Owen’s eyes grow as he took the necklace from Carlos, running his thumb over the numbers engraved in the pendant. “He left this as a clue,” he said quietly, and Carlos nodded. 

“Which probably means they were taken somewhere else and TK wanted us to know they were here.” 

Owen nodded, pulling his gaze up from the necklace to meet Carlos’s eyes, “We need to find them.”

His voice was tinged in desperation, a feeling Carlos knew well. He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone as he took another look at the mess in the back of the van. “We will,” he told Owen, “and I think I know someone that can help.” 

------

Their destination had turned out to be an abandoned restaurant, shuttered by the pandemic. As workspaces went it wasn’t a bad one, if a little dusty, and they got their patient set up on a prep table in no time, falling into their usual rhythm as they returned to this relative familiarity. TK was currently retrieving supplies from one of their cases and running through the situation in his head, separating it into pros and cons. 

Pro: they had come here in an ambulance with their house number clearly painted on it in broad daylight. Once people started looking it shouldn’t be too hard to spot. 

Con: they were deep into a neighborhood known for being an entertainment district. While traffic had decreased significantly overall since the start of the pandemic it was nearly non-existent this early in the day. The odds of a casual observer being in the neighborhood were slim to none, which was not a thought that brought much comfort. 

The man shouted at him to hurry up and TK quickly added another con to his list as he grabbed the last thing and crossed back to the table: their kidnappers were not reasonable people and every moment that passed seemed to push them just that much closer to the edge. Even as he thought it the woman edged closer to Nancy, causing her to tense as the cold metal of the gun was pressed against her side. 

“Hey,” he said firmly, “if you want us to save your friend, you need to let us work. That means you and your guns should be at least 6 feet away. It’s a little hard to focus otherwise.” 

The woman glanced at the man, who was studying TK. TK met his gaze steadily, not looking away until the man nodded and turned to his companion, “Go wait by the door, just in case. They’re not going anywhere.” 

She nodded and TK could breathe easier as she stepped away from Nancy, who visibly relaxed and shot TK a grateful look. Tommy eyed him quickly before returning her focus to the patient. “I appreciate what you’re doing, Strand, but in the future maybe let’s try to not antagonize the criminals with guns, yeah?” 

TK nodded as he worked, “Sorry Cap, I just really don’t like guns. Chalk it up to bad personal experience.” 

Nancy grimaced at the reminder and Tommy nodded, “Then let's keep this calm, no one needs to get shot today. I’m not losing another member of my crew, you both got that?” 

“Yes Cap,” TK and Nancy chorused, lapsing into silence as they worked. Unfortunately, with their supplies, there was only so much they could do. They had had a busy morning before this call had come in and no time to restock in between. They were running low on pretty much everything, and everything they had would have hardly been enough to repair the damage before them on a good day. But, despite everything, he was still a patient and he was still in need of treatment so they did what they always did: everything they could. 

Even as they worked TK made sure to keep one eye on their kidnappers. With each passing minute, they seemed to get more and more restless, and increasingly desperate. The woman even seemed twitchy and TK vaguely wondered if she was going through withdrawal. All the signs were there and if she was that made their situation even worse. TK knew how that felt first hand and knew what it could do to a person’s mental state. The idea that she might be coming down from a high and was currently pointing a gun at them was less than ideal and he mentally added it to his con list. 

Surprisingly, she wasn’t the one to crack first. TK was helping Captain Vega to do what they could to clean and secure the entry wound when the man stepped closer, waving the gun around as he shouted, “What is taking so long? We’ve been here too long, we need to get moving!”  

“Do you want it done right or do you want it done fast?” Tommy asked evenly, her voice calm and level. 

The man scowled at that, but stepped away, “Just, go as fast as you can.”

TK watched him walk away, glancing at the clock above the door and cursing before running his free hand across his face, the hand holding the gun tapping against his leg. 

“He’s spiraling Cap,” TK noted softly, “we might need a plan if you want to avoid that whole one of us getting shot thing.” 

“And we’ll find one,” Tommy agreed, “but for now we stick with the original one: do our jobs and keep calm.” 

TK nodded tersely and continued with the task at hand. It was only a few more moments before his Captain gave a soft curse and he looked over to see her scowling at the bag next to her. “We’re out of saline,” she said in answer to his questioning look, “can you go see if there is any more in that bag by the door?” 

TK nodded and crossed the bag laying on the ground next to the door they had entered. As he grew closer he noticed that the bag wasn’t the only thing by the door: a fire alarm, bright red against the white of the walls and shining like a beacon of hope as he drew closer, was situated on the wall just past the bag. If he could reach it and pull it, dispatch would be notified. A fire company and at least one APD unit would be called and the alarm might be enough of a distraction for them to get out of here and get somewhere safe until help arrived. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see that the two armed assailants were not watching him and made up his mind. He was going to pull it, and hope for the best. If it doesn’t work it’ll have been his idea and his idea alone — the rest of his team doesn't need to be involved in this. This was a stupid choice he could make for himself and by himself. 

He stepped forward, hardly daring to breathe as he drew closer. He was just about to reach out his hand when he heard footsteps behind him, loud and fast. He turned in time to see a hand reaching for him, aiming to strike him with the side of the gun. He ducked, the hand missing his target as he dodged the blow. The man came for him again and TK managed to dodge the next blow as well, and the one after that. 

They moved away from the wall and TK had the frantic thought that maybe he could get the gun away from him, maybe he could actually get the upper hand. He reached for it, throwing himself into the man’s space and reaching around for his arm. He leaned closer, so intent on his goal that he didn’t notice the man rummaging on the nearby shelf with his free hand. He didn’t notice his other hand at all until a sharp pain ripped through his side, causing him to release his grip on the other man involuntarily. He stumbled back, hands reaching blindly to the source of the pain coursing through his body. He felt a warm and sticky wetness and was about to lift his hand to examine it when he felt another sharp pain which caused his vision to go white before everything went black and he knew no more. 

-----

Carlos hadn’t had to say too much before his dad had agreed to help out. One of the perks of being a Ranger, Gabriel reminded his son, was getting to choose the cases he focused on from time to time. He wasn’t sure if it was the words he had said or the tone of his voice that had done the convincing but within two minutes his dad had taken down the address and was on his way. He had said he was likely 10 minutes out but each one of those minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly. 

He and Owen waited in tense silence, neither saying a word since Carlos had hung up the phone with the news that a Texas Ranger was on the case. Owen had raised an eyebrow but after Carlos clarified that it was his dad his expression had shifted to something unreadable and Carlos wondered how much Owen knew about his parental situation in regards to TK. 

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, as it happened. About 4 minutes into their wait, after Owen had made a phone call to Gwyn and Carlos had sent out some updates to the team, Owen cleared his throat, turning to Carlos before he spoke. 

“I don’t want to pry, Carlos, but TK mentioned something about you and your parents a few months ago and I just want to know where that stands. I don’t want to make things weird for you, but I also don’t want to accidentally reveal any information you’re not okay with.”

Carlos nodded, feeling a rush of appreciation for the older man’s tact as he responded, “They know I’m gay,” he told Owen plainly, “but they don’t know I’m in a relationship. They’ve never known about any of my relationships, we just don’t talk about it. When TK and I ran into them at the farmer’s market I introduced him as a friend and as far as they know that’s the truth.” Carlos turned to see Owen’s reaction, not sure what to expect. Anger maybe? Frustration or upset? 

When he did turn he didn’t see any of those. Instead, the older man’s face was neutral as he nodded. “They won’t find out otherwise from me,” Owen promised him, and Carlos nodded his thanks, letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He was surprised, however, when Owen continued talking. 

“I know it’s not my place to tell you how to interact with your parents,” he began, “but for what it’s worth, I would never want TK to keep something that was important to him from me because he was worried it might make me upset or uncomfortable. From everything you and TK have said about your parents, I wouldn’t be surprised if they felt the same way.” 

Carlos could feel Owen’s gaze on him, steady and reassuring despite everything, and he nodded. He could feel Owen’s words rattling inside his head, but there was no way to process them right now, not when the fear of possibly losing TK and the worry that his danger-prone boyfriend was missing was so soundly occupying the forefront of his thoughts. 

He was still trying to parse through it all when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. He stood as he recognized his dad’s truck, crossing to meet him as he pulled to a stop. “Thank you,” he told his dad as he stepped out, “I really appreciate this.” 

“Anything for you, mijo,” his dad assured him with a smile, “all you have to do is ask. Which you rarely do, which tells me this is pretty important.”

There’s something else there, in his dad’s words and his expression, that tells Carlos that his dad knows there is something Carlos isn’t telling him, but he ignores it. It didn’t matter right now — nothing mattered except for finding TK. “Still,” he says instead before turning to Owen who has been hovering at the back of the van. “This is TK’s dad, Captain Owen Strand of the 126.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain,” Gabriel says with a nod, “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Likewise,” Owen replies quickly before diving right in. “Were you able to find out anything yet?”

“Actually yes,” Gabriel admitted and Carlos tensed at the expression on his dad’s face. It was the one he used when he tried to break bad news gently. “We think we may have identified the suspects. There was a bank robbery this morning and the suspects fled in a van matching the description Carlos gave me. There were three suspects — two who entered the bank and one getaway driver — and bank security thinks that they hit one of them while exchanging fire as they fled.” 

There was so much information trying to squeeze into Carlos’s head now. None of it was good but one fact jumped out amongst the others. The suspects had exchanged fire with the security guards which meant…

“They’re armed,” he said tersely, the dread he had already been feeling threatening to overtake him now, “the suspects are armed.” 

“And they needed the paramedics to treat their partner,” his dad agreed grimly.

“Do we know anything about what kind of shape the injured suspect was in?” Owen asked and Carlos could tell that his mind had gone to the same place his own had: if the paramedics were not able to save the injured bank robber, things didn’t look great for them. Their best hope was for a minor injury but judging by the amount of bloody gauze in the back of the van and the fact that it was a gunshot wound the chances for that were slim to non-existent. 

Gabriel shook his head, “No, and the security cams in this parking garage are just for show, I already had someone check.” 

So TK and his team were being held at gunpoint, being asked to provide medical care that should be done in a trauma room, and there was no way of saying where they had been taken or if they were okay. Carlos could feel his chest tighten in panic as the hopelessness of the situation set in. 

“Are there any leads?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the desperation in his voice. 

“Well, they did leave in an ambulance, and that’s not exactly subtle,” his dad reminded him bracingly. “We’ve put out a bulletin — every cop, sheriff, and ranger will be looking for it. We’ll find them, mjio.” 

Carlos nodded because he didn’t trust himself to speak and because he desperately needed it to be true. They needed to find them, and TK needed to be okay. Nothing short of that would be enough. 

----------

TK knew he was somewhere he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

There were voices nearby, but TK couldn’t process any of them. Some of them sounded familiar but others were foreign; unknown with a hostile edge. He tried to open his eyes, to try and take stock of his surroundings but all he could see were vague and blurry shapes. He thought that someone called his name but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was in pain, and he was in danger. 

The pull of the darkness was stronger than any fear or curiosity, however, and it washed back over him without hesitation, pulling him back under.

---------

Riding in his dad’s truck with his dad and Owen Strand would have been awkward on a good day but today, with his mind full of fear for TK and the tension of the secret between them all, it was unbearable. Carlos couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing anxiously against the floor — the exact same nervous tick he teased TK about on an almost daily basis. The irony wasn’t lost on him, or Owen it seemed as the man leaned forward from the back seat to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, empathetic eyes meeting his own in the rearview. Gabriel kept up a steady stream of one-sided chatter, undaunted by the lack of response from his traveling companions. Every once in a while his radio would crackle to life and Carlos could swear that he could feel his heart seize each and every time. 

But every time it was the same: no news, no one had spotted the ambulance yet. Crime scene techs had scoured the van and surrounding area, pulling fingerprints and looking for anything else that could give them a lead on who these people were and where they may have gone. Carlos knew all too well that criminals, especially ones involved in crimes that took as much planning as a bank robbery did, were creatures of habit. If they had somewhere they felt was safe and secluded enough, they would go there. It was up to them to find it.  

Carlos knew that his anxiety had not gone unnoticed by his father. He sent him surreptitious glances from time to time, in between radio updates and idle chatter. Finally, he asked a question: “You really care about this TK, don’t you?” 

The opening was there, Carlos could see it. A part of his mind told him his dad must too, to open the door so plainly. But the fear of what could happen, of what he has convinced himself he stands to lose is too much. There was already so much fear in his heart from this nightmare he was trapped in, he can’t stand any more. So he nodded and simply answered, “Yeah, I do.” 

He tried not to notice the disappointment and pity he could feel from all sides as Owen met his eyes again in the mirror. But his boyfriend’s father stayed silent as promised and Carlos looked away, turning his attention to the window instead. He knew he needed to tell them, he had been coming closer to making that decision on his own with each passing day. Now he just had to hope that they both survived this one and that there would still be something to tell at the end of it all. 

His pessimistic spiral was interrupted by the familiar crackle of the radio. He listened absently as his dad grabbed it and at the words that came in response. At least he was only listening absently until some of the words processed in his mind: “Ambulance 126 has been spotted in an alley off W. Fourth St.” 

His heart was working on beating its way out of his chest now. He sat upright, looking around frantically to get their bearings. They were only a few blocks east of West Fourth, they could be there in minutes. He relayed this to his dad who nodded before flipping on his lightbar and heading in the direction of the address provided. As they drove Carlos sent his desperate hopes out to the universe. Let them all be okay, let them actually be in or at least nearby the ambulance. Above all, let TK be safe. 

As they sped through the city that was the thought that Carlos played on a loop in his head. Let TK be safe, and everything else would be fine 

----------

TK came to awareness slowly and at first, the only thing he was truly aware of was the feeling of someone repeatedly tapping his cheek. 

“Cut it out,” he whined and heard a relieved sigh in response. 

“He’s awake,” a voice — Nancy? — declared and TK tried to open his eyes. It took several tries but he managed, painstakingly blinking them open to reveal the worried faces of his Captain and his partner staring down at him. 

“Hey guys,” he said as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position, “why the long faces?” 

Captain Vega looked unimpressed with his efforts and pushed him back down onto the ground. “Don’t try to play nice with me Strand after you did that. Of all the reckless, foolhardy things. I really thought you had more sense than that.” 

TK frowned at her, trying to piece together all the uncategorized shapes and sensations floating through his hazy mind, “What do you…” he began, but broke off when a sharp pain ripped through his side and Nancy pressed gauze down onto his side, “oh.” 

It was coming back now. 

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” his Captain scoffed, “what were you thinking TK?” 

“I was thinking that they were getting more and more unhinged the longer we were here and that if I had been able to pull the fire alarm dispatch would be notified and it would have given us enough of a distraction we could have maybe saved ourselves,” he said defensively, trying hard to sound assertive when even just the dim lights of the kitchen were causing explosions of pain in his head. 

“And how did that go for you?” 

“Not great,” he admitted. “How long was I out?” 

“Not too long,” Nancy told him as she lifted up the gauze to check on his stab wound, “and I’ve got the bleeding slowed but this wound is pretty deep. Not to mention the knife did not look particularly sterile so this needs treatment, soon.” She nodded towards the abandoned blood-covered chef’s knife on the ground that the man must have grabbed during their scuffle, and TK groaned. 

“So probable infection,” he muttered, “great.” 

“Not to mention with the width of that knife likely some significant damage,” Tomy reminded him, her unimpressed look holding firm.

“It’s not like I had any way of knowing he was going to find a knife, to be fair.” 

“To be fair, I would think the guns should have been enough of a deterrent,” Tommy countered. “Wasn’t getting shot once enough for you?” 

TK shifted uncomfortably under his Captain’s gaze and was about to fire back a retort when Nancy interrupted, “Can you both knock it off? Yes, that was incredibly stupid TK and if you weren’t already hurt I probably would have hit you myself. But it was also pretty brave, Cap, and he meant well. Either way, arguing about it is not going to change the fact that we’re still being held hostage and TK is still hurt so maybe it would be best if you both stopped, for my sanity if nothing else.” 

She gave them both a hard look and TK did his best approximation of a nod with his throbbing head, not eager to be on his partner’s bad side. Tommy nodded as well, though the look she gave TK promised that they would be revisiting this later, assuming there was a later. He cleared his throat and glanced towards the table where their patient was still laid out, “How is he?” 

“Stable, for now,” Tommy answered, following his gaze. “He’s going to need more blood than we can give him though: his friends don’t know his blood type and we only have so much O neg on hand.” 

TK nodded, reading in between the lines of what his Captain wasn’t saying: he didn’t have much longer and if he didn’t, neither did they. “What are the others up to?” 

“Arguing,” Nancy said softly, “about what to do with us.” 

TK turned his gaze to them and though he couldn’t hear their words, he had a feeling he knew what they were saying and it wasn’t good. His suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when they approached. 

“That’s enough of that,” the man informed them, gesturing roughly to where Nancy was tending to TK’s stab wound, “get away from him.” 

“He needs—” Nancy tried to argue, but TK put a hand on her arm and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before holding out a hand for the supplies.

“It’s okay,” he told her, “I can handle it from here.” 

She didn’t look impressed or convinced, but a wave of the gun prompted her to hand them over and pull herself up from the floor, stepping in the direction indicated by the woman. The man looked down at TK with disdain, “You’re done causing trouble,” he announced, “Because if you do it again, I will start shooting, but I won’t be aiming at you. Got it?” 

TK swallowed and nodded. What else could he really say to that? He wasn’t about to risk his team’s safety for anything. 

“Good,” the man declared with a nod, “glad we’re on the same page.” He turned to Nancy and Tommy now, “Is he stable enough to be moved right now?” 

“He’s as stable as we can make him with what we have on hand,” Tommy told him calmly. 

“Then we’re moving,” he declared, “we have another van stashed nearby. We’re going to move out,” he gestured towards himself and his companion, “and we’re taking our friend and this one with us.” 

When all eyes turned to him TK realized “this one” meant him with a start. Which was...less than ideal, but at least he would know that the other two were out of danger and could probably get help. 

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said in her firmest tone, “he’s injured, he needs treatment.” 

“Which is why I know he’ll be no trouble,” the man countered, “plus he’s a paramedic, isn’t he? He can treat himself. I’ll let you give him some supplies, I’m not unreasonable.” 

TK could practically see Tommy’s anger rising from his position on the floor and he spoke up before his Captain could say anymore, “It’s okay Cap,” he said, hoping his voice sounded more sure out loud than it did to his own ears, “I’ll be fine.” 

Tommy turned her gaze to him and was more likely than not going to tell him how many ways that was not happening, but any arguments she may have made were abruptly cut off by the sound of the door banging open and a barrage of police officers entering the scene, guns raised. 

TK let himself sag against the wall in relief as he saw their two assailants surrounded and even more when he spotted a familiar gaze in the crowd, filled with fear and worry as it grew closer to him. 

“Carlos,” he said quietly, managing to pull a small smile to his face. 

“Hey Ty,” Carlos said roughly, reaching out to run a hand through his hair even as he surveyed him for damage. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched as he spotted the bloody gauze poking out from underneath his hand just above his hip. 

He reached for it, but TK called his name softly before shaking his head ever so slightly, “leave it be, I’ll be fine. I’m just so happy to see you.”  

Carlos looked like he wanted to argue but he bit his lip, turning instead to the crowd behind them. TK followed his gaze and froze when he spotted Gabriel Reyes amongst the officers. He pulled away from Carlos ever so slightly, “Your dad…” he began, but Carlos shook his head, gripping TK hands tighter, not letting him pull away. 

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he told him, “all that matters is that you’re safe.” 

TK had so many questions, but his head was swimming. He wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss or the head injury, but it was getting harder and harder to follow a fluid thought. He opened his mouth to try and ask any of them but was saved from the trouble of doing that by his dad appearing at his side, expression anxious as he kneeled down. He looked him over before calling over his shoulder for a medic and TK tried really hard to follow what was happening but it was becoming so much harder with each passing moment. 

He was so disoriented he almost missed the commotion that erupted around them. All he knew was that Carlos’s hand was suddenly gone from his and he blinked several times, forcing himself to focus on what was happening around them. The woman had somehow managed to free herself of the officer cuffing her and had managed to grab her gun again. She was waving it frantically and shouting, but her words were a blur to TK. All he could focus on now was the fact that Carlos was closest to her, and that he was stepping closer to her. 

That he was standing firmly between her and TK. 

The rest of the world might be a blur of noise and light but this was clear as day. Carlos was stepping towards the woman, hands raised as he tried to speak calmly to her. But TK knew in his heart that he had been right about her state and knew that there would be no reasoning with her. But he also knew that Carlos would try, because that’s what Carlos did. He helped people, no matter what. 

The next moment happened in a blink of an eye but TK saw it as if in slow motion. Carlos took a step forward, his soothing voice still speaking to her, still vibrating its way through the air as another sound erupted between them, eclipsing Carlos’s voice. 

It was the sound of a gun firing and TK could do nothing but watch in horror as Carlos’s stride faltered before he stumbled. He could do nothing but try to call out his name with whatever breath he still had in his lungs as Carlos went down, and he could do nothing but feel his heart shatter when he didn’t get up. 

TK tried to go to him, tried to push himself off the ground. He needed to help, he needed to save Carlos. But his body wouldn’t listen. The pain in his side sliced through him again with a vengeance and the last thing TK saw was Carlos’s unmoving body before his vision faded to black and he knew no more; left with the worst sight he had ever seen in his life as company as he fell into the darkness.  

-------

Carlos woke slowly, bits and pieces of his surroundings making themselves known to him and helping to fill in the blanks in his mind: he was in the hospital, he had been hurt, he had been searching for TK…

And that was the thought that brought him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes with a gasp, feeling hands on him instantly. “TK,” he tried to ask, “is he…”

“Relax, mijo,” his dad told him soothingly, “TK is safe. He just woke up from his own surgery a short while ago. His dad assures me that he’s fine, and asking about you.” 

Carlos took a deep breath and willed his heartbeat to slow. TK was alive, they had found him. He was hurt, but he was doing okay and Owen was with him. That did answer a lot of his questions, but there were still so many left. Starting with, “What happened?” he asked his dad. 

Gabriel settled into the chair at the side of the bed, leaving a hand on Carlos’s arm as he studied him, “What do you remember, Carlos?”

“I remember TK and his team going missing, calling you, and finding them. After that, not much.” 

Gabriel nodded and his hand on Carlos’s arm tightened, “One of the kidnappers, the woman, went a little crazy when your colleagues tried to bring her in. She freed herself from the officer’s trying to cuff her and you were closest. Well,” he amended, “you and TK. But you put yourself between them and tried to talk her down. It…” his dad broke off, clearing his throat and continuing with a thick voice, “it didn’t go well. You were shot, Carlos, right in front of me. I was so scared I was going to lose you, mijo. You cannot scare me like that, I am an old man.” 

Despite it all, Carlos chuckled, “Please, you are not old dad. There are 20-year-olds older than you.” 

His teasing didn’t put a dent into his father’s upset, and Carlos sobered, “I’m sorry,” he said instead, “that can’t have been easy. I know what it’s like to see someone you care about hurt like that. I’m sorry you had to see that, dad.”

Gabriel shook his head, leaning forward again, “You have nothing to apologize for Carlos,” he said firmly, “you only did what you thought was best, what you needed to do to protect the man you love.” 

Carlos’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened, but his dad held his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips, “You are not subtle, mijo. I had a feeling since this all started, but the moment I saw you with him, I knew.” 

“I’m sorry I kept this from you and mom,” Carlos apologized softly, “that I lied to you when we met at the Farmer’s Market.” 

“Stop apologizing Carlos,” Gabriel instructed, his tone matching his son’s, “you have nothing to apologize for. If anyone should be apologizing I think it should be me. Clearly, I did something or said something that made you feel like you couldn’t share this and for that I am so, so sorry. I never wanted you to feel like you had to hide anything from us, especially not this. I’m...” he trailed off and Carlos was surprised to see tears in his dad’s eyes, “I’m just sorry,” Gabriel finished, “I need you to know that. That and the fact that both your mother and I love you so much, no matter what.”  

“I do know that,” Carlos assured him, “I never doubted that for a second.” 

His father smiled at him and Carlos could feel a weight that had been subtly resting on him for nearly 10 years lifted. He met his father’s eyes and returned the smile. 

“Dad,” he said clearly, with a confidence that had been so many years coming, “I have a boyfriend. His name is TK Strand, and I love him. He means everything to me.” 

“I’m happy for you Carlos,” his father told him, a soft smile covering his face, “you deserve nothing but the most wonderful love the world has to offer, and I hope this boy can give you that.” 

“He can,” Carlos assured him, “he does.” 

----------

TK was staring moodily at the dark ceiling of his hospital room. Yes, he was beyond grateful to have been rescued and that his teammates were safe. They had just been by actually — both women very clear that they would stab him themselves next time if he ever tried to do something so reckless again — and he had been happy to see them. Just as he had his parents and his friends, all who had stopped by before the doctor informed them all that he needed rest. 

That was all wonderful and he was grateful, but the one person he wanted to see more than anyone else — that he needed to see — was in a room of his own on the other side of the hospital. He had been assured by multiple reliable sources that he was fine: awake and alert and recovering nicely from his gsw (fuck, Carlos had been shot. That was a thought and a memory that was going to haunt him for a while, he knew it). But he had been denied any and all requests of seeing him with his own eyes due to his concussion — hence the dark room as light still wreaked havoc on his head — and the antibiotics slowly dripping their way into his system in an effort to cut off any possible infection from the dirty knife blade before it had a chance to take root. Which, as a paramedic, he recognized was reasonable. If it were anyone else he would have recommended the same. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was him and it was Carlos, and TK needed to see him with his own eyes before he could believe that he was really alright. 

Since that was beyond his control, that left him with pouting about it in the dark, which is what he intended to do about it for the foreseeable future.  

A soft knock at his door interrupted his plans and when he turned his head in the direction of the door, his breath caught in his throat. 

“Carlos,” he breathed, his name emerging from his lips like a prayer as the other man gave him a small, tired smile from his wheelchair in the door. Behind him stood his father, looking at TK with a smile that told him everything he needed to know. 

He waited as Gabriel pushed the wheelchair into the room, reaching out for Carlos, taking his hand in his own as soon as they were close enough to touch. He moved to the side of the bed, leaning over and meeting Carlos in a soft, tender kiss that he hoped did something to relay even a portion of the emotions he was feeling. They pulled apart and he met Carlos’s eyes, studying them and him for any signs that he wasn’t okay, but his study was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up, startled, to see Carlos’s father watching them with a bemused expression. 

“I will leave you both alone,” he promised, “but first I just wanted to take a moment to meet you properly, TK. I am very glad you are okay.” 

“Thank you, sir,” TK said warmly, still clutching Carlos’s hand. 

Gabriel shook his head, “None of that ‘sir’ business now,” he told him, “as far as I’m concerned we’re family now. Call me Gabriel, please.” 

“Well Gabriel, TK said lightly, “I am happy to meet you, officially.” 

He grinned at Carlos, he matched his expression without a second thought. Gabriel watched the pair of them, smile growing. 

“I would love to talk more with you TK, take some time to get to know you, but I know when I’m not wanted so we’ll take care of that later. Just remember Carlos,” he told his son, voice suddenly firm, “you’re injured too. Don’t overdo it.” 

“Yes dad, thanks.” 

Gabriel gave them both a smile and with an affectionate squeeze of Carlos’s shoulder, he was gone. 

“So,” TK said as he watched the older man walk away, “you told him.” 

Carlos scoffed, “I didn’t have to. He spent all day with me, looking for you. He figured it out pretty quickly.” He paused here, swallowing thickly as he looked back at TK, “God Ty, I was so scared. I don’t know what I would have done…” 

TK cut him off, pressing a hand against his face, “Hey, none of that. We’re both okay, and that’s what matters.” 

But even as he said it, he could feel his voice waver. The last memory he had before blacking out of Carlos collapsing after being shot would be forever ingrained in his memories, a vision he was sure would come back to haunt him for many nights to come. Carlos leaned forward now, placing a hand on top of TK’s and pulling it away from his face so he could twist their fingers together. 

“Same goes for you,” he said firmly, as if he knew where TK’s mind had gone. Because of course he did. It was Carlos, and TK knew there was no part of him that was a mystery to the other man.   

“Hey, remember when you said being a Paramedic would be less dangerous than being a firefighter?” TK quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood and Carlos rolled his eyes. 

“Only you could manage to prove that wrong,” Carlos fired back, his voice a blend of fondness and exasperation. “Maybe you can try not to keep proving that wrong though, for my sake?”

“I guess I could try,” TK said softly, “if only for you. I love you an awful lot, you know.” 

Carlos leaned forward and pulled him into a kiss with more heat than before. It was warm and bright and so full of everything TK had been so afraid of losing for good. When they pulled apart, both breathing heavier and both leaning in, resting their foreheads on each other, Carlos responded, “I love you so much, Tyler Kennedy. Don’t you ever get kidnapped on me again.” 

“I’ll do my best,” TK promised, “but I know that if I do, you’d come find me.” 

“And I always will,” Carlos assured him, squeezing their linked hands, “no matter what.” 

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch24: The Wheel Fell Off

Summary: There are some perks to having your own, personal mechanic…and Fliss isn’t the only one who notices.

Warnings: Bad language.

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So I gotta give a shout out to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​  as she came up with a few gems of dialogue for this!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 23

And the wonder of it all is that you don’t realise how much I love you.

July 2020

Frank looked around at the team assembled in his office for the daily Stand-Up and nodded. “Okay, so I’ve nothing else to add, anyone got any other business before I call it?”

“Are we far behind on the repair time KPI for the Dolphin Tour fleet?” Mick, the finance manager looked at Frank and he shook his head.

“No, a day or so. Tim says he’ll have made the time back by Friday so we’re good.” Frank replied. “I’m not concerned. It shouldn’t have an impact on the incentivisation payments”

Mick nodded and Frank waited for a second. When no one else spoke, he dismissed the team and turned to his computer, leaning over to check the rest of the meetings and tasks for the day. He was midway through a very complicated spreadsheet detailing incoming repairs and timescales when his phone rang.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He greeted Fliss, leaning back in his chair a little. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, well, no. I was in the menage harrowing the surface and the wheel fell off the Quad Bike.”

“What do you mean the wheel fell off?” Frank pulled a face, scratching at his temple.

“Well, you know how it had four wheels? Now it has three,” came the sarcastic response.

“Dickhead.” Frank shot back and Fliss’ laughter hit his ears.

“Well, what did you think I meant?”

“You know what, I’m sorry I asked.” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that means you want me to come fix it?”

“Yeah but it can wait until later if you’re busy, we managed to get it out of the way. Dad’s here snagging the extension to the tack room so he had a look and he says the bolt has sheared off so he can’t put it back on without a spare and I don’t know if you have any lying about in your Man Cave.”

“I will do from when we changed the wheels last year.” Frank clicked into his calendar to double check his schedule and smiled. “I’ve got no meetings this afternoon so I’ll come home at lunch. I can do the stock inventory at home.”

“My hero.”

“You know, if you carry on being sarcastic you can shove it up your ass.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” Fliss laughed. “You know I love the fact that you can fix all this shit for me.”

“No you love the fact I get filthy fixing all that shit for you.”

“Well yeah, that’s one upside to you being good with your hands.”

“One?” Frank grinned, leaning back in his chair. “So there’s more?”

“You know it Sailor. I gotta go babe, my next client is here but I’ll see you soon, and if you can’t don’t worry it’ll wait.”

“I’ll sort it. Love you, sweetheart.”

“You too.”

True to his word, Frank left the office at midday giving his team the instruction to call his cell if needed. Once home, he parked up, headed inside to change out of his office attire and pulled on a pair of worn, light jeans and a t-shirt. Once done, he grabbed his shades, went into his work shop and picked up his tool box along with a couple of spare bolts and wandered over to the yard. As he walked, he stopped for a moment to take in the building work and smiled. The extension to the office and tack room area was complete, giving Fliss a huge extra space to organise all her tack and equipment. The paint and plastering had been completed a few days before and the fittings had all been finalised yesterday which was what Bill was in there snagging, making sure it was all as they’d specified. The storage units and racks were all on order and due to arrive at some point tomorrow so Frank knew he’d most likely be busy fitting them in the evening, not that he minded. He loved being able to be involved and help out.

The diggers were in place, hollowing out the additional riding paddock at the bottom of the yard, this one slightly smaller than the current one, but would give more than enough additional space for people to ride, and the hedge along the bottom field had been cleared to lead out to the additional three acres of grassy space they had acquired, with a new gravel path to be laid as a walkway once the post and rail fencing was done. They’d also asked for trenches to be dug for water pipes to avoid the stable hands having to lug buckets and tanks up to the horses.

All in all, it was coming along really well and on schedule, the whole thing set to be completed by the beginning of August, well in time for their wedding, which was now just ten weeks away.

Frank made his way onto the main yard, Fliss waving at him from where she was teaching in the paddock and he waved back, wandering into the newly-constructed building as Bill was busy pointing to something on the wall.

“Yeah, that needs patching up.” He nodded as the guy besides him produced a packet of small stickers in the shape of yellow dots. He placed one on the area Bill was clearly not satisfied with and Frank looked around, noticing a number of them in various places in the room. Bill glanced over at him and smiled. “Hey, son.”

“How picky ya being, Bill?” Frank smirked and Bill let out a snort.

“Nah, the actual building and electrical fittings are all sound.” He gave a nod. “This is just cosmetic. The door frame is chipped, this plaster here is rough and there’s some patches where it’s too thin but other than that it’s good.”

“I’m glad you’re doing this as I wouldn’t have noticed any of that.” Frank mused, leaning in a little closer to examine what it was that Bill had spotted, and the older man shook his head.

“Well, I have over thirty years in the trade and my eyes are still pretty sharp.” Bill chuckled. “Anyway, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me she dragged you out of work to fix that Quad!”

“It’s no problem. Got nothing on this afternoon so I can work from home.”

“She’s got you wrapped round her little finger.” Bill shook his head and Frank arched an eyebrow.

“I could say the same for you.” He accused. “And with Mary too for that matter. And Verity. You’re a soft ass for your girls, Bill and you know it.”

Bill shrugged. “Guilty as charged. Some would argue I’m a soft ass for my boys too, all of you.”

Frank smiled back, his neck feeling a little warm as the sentiment of Bill’s words sunk in and he took a deep breath and jerked his head towards the door. “I best go do what I came to do before her majesty accuses me of slacking.”

Bill chuckled. “It’s in the barn,” he informed, waving him away and Frank emerged out into the hot, midday July sun and strode round to the rear of the yard. The Quad bike and offending wheel were indeed stored in the barn, which was slightly cooler than the outside and Frank dropped his tool bag to the floor before he knelt down to take a look. Bill had been right, the bolt had snapped but it was an easy fix.

Or so he thought.

Ten minutes later, after a lot of cursing, heaving and straining he’d finally managed to work the broken bolt loose. Standing up, he cracked his neck and back, tossing the broken item into his bag with a contemptuous glare as he wiped his sweaty forehead and reached for the wheel. Thankfully, that was easy and took him two minutes to fit, and once he was happy it was sorted he pushed the quadbike out to make sure it was on properly.

“Did you fix it?” A small voice asked him and Frank glanced up to see a little girl, who can’t have been much older than four, stood looking at him as she grinned, her dark pigtails poking out from underneath a cap.

“Sure did.” He smiled.

“It was funny when it fell off.” She giggled. “Fliss screamed and then she swore.”

Frank snorted. “Yeah, she has a potty mouth.”

“Alicia!” A woman spoke and Frank turned to glance up at a slim, dark haired lady, dressed in a pair of bright, beige jodhpurs and a tight, baby-blue polo shirt, both items of clothing looking like they’d never come into contact with a horse at all. “Don’t run off!”

“I just wanted to see if the wheel was back on.” The little girl protested and the woman rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She smiled, flashing off a set of perfect white teeth from behind a set of glossed lips. “She’s so nosey.”

“Kids for ya.” Frank smiled, shaking his head.

“Don’t I know it?” She laughed, a perfectly manicured hand flying to her chest as Frank straightened up, wiping his hands on the back of his loose fitting, slightly grubby jeans. At that point, Joanne came round the back of the barn and she smiled.

“You ready for your lesson, Leesh?” She looked at the little girl who gave a cheer. “Come on then, Fliss is waiting.”

“This is the best Phys-Ed ever!” The little girl grinned and shot off after Joanne.

“Phys Ed.” Her mom rolled her eyes. “Damned private tutor education. I swear, I could kill my ex-husband for suggesting this.”

“You don’t ride yourself then, I take it?” Frank asked and she shook her head.

“No, but when she decided she wanted to, I thought I should make an effort. I think it’s what they refer to in the business as possessing all the gear, but having no idea.”

Frank gave her a smile. “Yeah, well, when my girl decided she wanted to learn I wasn’t particularly keen either but, well, she’s hooked now.”

“Oh, your girl rides too?” The woman flicked her hair back over her shoulder and Frank studied her for a moment, her painted on eyebrows and heavily bronzed face arranged into a genuine look of interest. He realised then that she had absolutely no idea who he was. “Does she do that here?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” He chuckled.

“Huh.” The woman scanned him up and down a little, her eyes blatantly flicking to his left hand. “Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing coming here after all.”

Frank took a deep breath, recognising the flirting for what it was and he gave her a little smile. “Well, I better get on.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m sure Fliss has a list of a hundred other jobs for me to so.”

“So, are you like her mechanic or something?” The woman continued and Frank looked at her, his face remaining straight.

“Something.” He gave her another nod and moved to walk back onto the yard, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, well, we’re new here. We’ve not been here long. I’m Michelle.” She offered, following him.

“Nice to meet you, Michelle.” He looked back over his shoulder as she paused a few steps behind him.

“I err, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.” He stopped, turning to look at her, a smirk flicking across his face. She bit her lip and grinned back.

“Are you gonna?”

At that Frank let out a bark of a laugh. “Frank. Frank Adler.”

“Nice to meet you, Frank.”

“You too.” He smiled politely, as he slid his aviators back down from the top of his head onto his eyes, before he realised they were dirty. Taking them off he pulled the bottom of his shirt up slightly to wipe at the lens and when he returned them to his face he caught Michelle’s focus was still on his waist line. Her eyes flicked up to his and she shrugged a little.

“Sorry.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t blame a girl for looking, huh?”

Frank blinked, glad his eyes were hidden, a little shocked at her forthcoming nature, before he let out a snort.

“Well I’ve done my fair share of looking in the past, not any more though. My fiancée would have my balls hung up on the wall.”

“Oh, erm, sorry, I didn’t, wow.” She blinked and ran her hand through her glossy hair. “That’s embarrassing.”

Frank shrugged. “I’ve been in far worse situations, believe me.” With that he turned, and as he began to walk along the side of the paddock he looked up to see Fliss was watching him over the fence, her hands on her hips. Her eyes were hidden behind her wrap-arounds but he could tell from her demeanour she wasn’t best pleased. With a groan he approached the white post and rail that ran round the ménage and leaned on it.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Her tone was friendly enough, despite her frosty body language, as she walked over towards him. “You get it fixed?”

“Yeah, took me a while to get the bolt off but it’s all good.”

“Thanks.” She slid her hat up a little and wiped at her brow with the back of her arm. “Fuck, its warm today.”

“Well, take your clothes off.” Frank grinned. “It’ll help you cool down.”

“Pervert.” She snorted, before she nodded behind him. “I see you met Kim.”

“Kim?” Frank frowned. “She said her name was Michelle.”

“Yeah, but Joanne calls her Kim Kardashian.” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “On account of the botox and fake boobs.”

“You two are bitches.” Frank scoffed and Fliss shrugged, before he frowned. “Hang on, her boobs are fake?”

“Keep talking, Sailor.” Fliss slid her glasses down and glared at him over the rims and he let out a laugh.

“Baby, I’m joking.” He looked at her and she gave a hum as she pushed them back up her nose as he leaned over the fence a little. “Come ‘ere.”

Fliss stepped towards him and Frank dropped his head to press his lips to hers. “Love you, baby.” He ginned, flashing her his best cheeky grin.

“You can’t get round me that easy.” She shot back and Frank shrugged.

“Who says I’m trying to get round you?”

“I know you, Adler.” She scoffed, stepping back. “Look, I gotta get on so I’ll see you at home. You wanna pick Alex up tonight?”

“Sure, I’ll get him. Is Mary getting the bus home from Summer Camp?”

“Yeah, I told her one of us would pick her up but she insisted.” Fliss shrugged and Frank smiled.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a couple of hours then.”

“Yeah, love you.”

“You too.”

*****

It was gone five before Fliss had finished at the yard. She’d hardly had time to breathe, let alone think about what she’d seen that morning, but that said, it was there, nagging in the back of her brain. She bid Joanne a good night, before she headed down the little path to the house. She was hot, sticky, uncomfortable and ready for a cool shower and a very large glass of white wine. As she walked down the drive, she passed her newly acquired white Hyundai SUV and stopped as she caught her reflection in the tinted rear mirror.

“Oh, Jesus.” She mumbled, moving closer to take a better look. Her skin was the colour of a fucking beet, her hair was all over the place from where she’d removed her cap and tossed it on her desk, her polo shirt was full of all sorts of stains and she was pretty sure she could smell herself and her riding britches were hung a little low on her hips, her soft stomach visible beneath the tight cotton of her top.

And then, from nowhere, came the image of fucking Michelle and her fucking size two figure, with her fucking perfect tits, model smile, stupidly glossy hair, and impeccable eyebrows and straight nose…

Fliss hastily pulled her pony tail out, fluffed out her sweat-damp hair and retied it, before she smoothed down her top as best she could and headed into their yard and through to the utility room, Thor trotting behind her.

“Hey!” Frank greeted her from where he was led on the rug, building some form of tower out of a set of large, brightly coloured blocks as Alex sat next to him, his little hands curling round a few of the bricks. The baby looked round and made an excited noise at the sight of his momma, and shuffled a little onto his knees and hands, crawling towards her.

“Frank, I stink.” She held her hands up in warning and Frank hastily rose, quickly picking Alex up off the floor before he could get much further towards her.

“A little dirt won’t hurt him.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, but I look and feel like I’ve been rolling on the muck heap all day so I’m going straight for a shower.”

Frank chuckled as she gave Alex a quick kiss on the head, moving out of his way before he could grab hold of her. “Well, I think you wear the dirty, stable hand look well, Honey.”

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back down in ten, do you mind starting dinner? I was gonna do a quick chicken salad.”

“Course.” Frank nodded, looking at her for a moment and she simply smiled back.

She could feel Frank’s eyes burning into her back as she headed out of the family room into the hallway, trudging up the stairs. As soon as she was in their bedroom she stripped off her sticky, dirty clothes, tossed them onto the floor and climbed straight into the shower, turning it to an adequate temperature. Tipping her face up into the stream she let the lukewarm water cool her slightly, as she blinked back tears of frustration.

Michelle had at least had the good grace to look a little sheepish when she’d realised exactly who Frank was, but fuck, it had still pissed Fliss off to the point she’d wanted to smash her face straight into the floor. And more to the point, Fliss felt annoyed that it had riled her the way it had. It wasn’t exactly like it was an unusual occurrence, everywhere they went Frank seemed to attract female attention, he was gorgeous, but today had been on her home turf, somewhere she was Queen Bee, and to have someone else buzzing around her hive in such a way made her feel uneasy.

Real uneasy.

With a deep breath she washed her hair, sorted herself out and turned off the shower before she wrapped herself in a towel and headed back into the bedroom. As she was brushing out her hair, her phone went off and she picked it up, snorting at the message from Steve which showed a baby-grow with the words, “party at my crib, 3am, bring a bottle,” on the front. She sent him a quick response, pondering for a moment at just how fast Sian’s latest pregnancy seemed to have gone, she was approaching her sixth month now, and seemed to be glowing just as she had with the twins. Mary had been very happy when they’d announced they were expecting another boy, declaring proudly that made her Bill’s only granddaughter, something which, according to her, made her special.

And of course, none of them had corrected her, because it was the truth.

Tapping her nails lightly against the surface of the vanity unit, Fliss scrolled down to her message conversations and found the one to Bonnie, sending her a quick text to ask if she was free. She set about her quick face care routine, before she braided her damp hair, and then her phone began to ring.

“Hey!” Bonnie greeted her. “I’m driving so thought I’d call you…erm, I’m not doing anything in particular, why?”

“Well, I know Si’s outta town on business so I wondered if you fancied company for a few hours?” Fliss replied, keeping the details as sketchy as she could. “Me and a bottle of white? God knows I could do with one after today.”

“That bad huh?” Bonnie chuckled. “Sure why not. I’m not working tomorrow after all. Did I tell you I had many weeks off?”

“You might have mentioned it.” Fliss replied, laughing a little. “You teachers have an easy ride.”

“Fuck you.” Bonnie shot back and Fliss snorted.

“I’m joking, well I’ve no lessons until later tomorrow so I can have a few.” Fliss scratched at her temple. “What time works for you?”

“Well, I’m just on my way to have dinner at my mom’s so, I can pick you up on the way back?” Bonnie offered. “Be about seven ish?”

“Perfect.” Fliss smiled.

“Awesome. We can get down to some Hen Party planning!” Bonnie’s voice was laced with excitement. “I found this awesome villa in Miami that will accommodate everyone.”

“Can’t wait to see it.” Fliss smiled.

After a little more conversation, Fliss placed her phone back down and dressed in a pair of denim shorts, a khaki green boat necked short-sleeved top and shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops. She took another look in the mirror, scowling once more at her reflection, before she rolled her eyes and headed downstairs.

She walked into the family room and smiled as she saw Mary was sat on a stool at the island whilst Alex was sat in his high chair, munching on a piece of cucumber. Frank was busy tossing things into a salad bowl, and he turned to smile at her as she greeted them all, dropping a kiss to Mary’s head, then Alex’s in turn.

“Feeling better?” Frank asked as she slid her arms round his waist, pressing her face into his t-shirt.

“Yeah, much. God, it was disgustingly hot out there today.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing I don’t miss about working on boats, the lack of air conditioning.” Frank chuckled as she stepped back and moved to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.

“My face feels burnt, but I don’t know how that’s possible.” She shook her head, thanking Frank as he reached into the cupboard and pulled down a glass for her. “I had a cap and shades on.”

“It doesn’t look too red.” He looked at her and she took a large gulp of wine, giving a satisfied sigh.

“Been waiting for that all afternoon.” She closed her eyes, savouring the taste before she opened them again. “Oh, that reminds me, I’m going over to Bonnie’s later, just for a couple of hours. Hen Do planning, that okay?”

“Course it is.” Frank nodded. “You want me to drop you off?”

“No, she’s at her mum’s so she’s going to come get me. I can Uber back.”

“I’ll pick you up.” Frank looked at her. “We can take the kids and Thor down to the beach for a little flashlight walk on the way back.”

“Flashlight walk?” Mary suddenly spoke, excitement lacing her tone. “The last time we did that it was so cool, we saw all those hermit crabs and the dolphins!”

“Don’t be so nosey.” Frank looked at her and she shrugged.

“You weren’t exactly whispering.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to Fliss who chuckled. “Sure, sounds good. I won’t be long, just a few hours.”

Frank shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, not like Mary needs to be up early and Alex will probably sleep the entire time anyway if he’s in the carrier.”

She gave him a small nod before she set about helping Frank with their dinner. It wasn’t long before it was ready, and they decided to eat outside. Mary chatted away, filling them all in on what she’d done at Summer camp, Frank listening, but all the time keeping one eye on Fliss who seemed to be taking it all in, but wasn’t saying much.

They finished, cleared their dishes away and Mary headed upstairs for a little while, whilst Fliss took Alex for his bath before she brought him back down, ready for bed to give him his bottle which Frank had ready.

She passed him over as Frank made his way to the sofa, dropping down to feed their baby, and Fliss watched for a moment, before her phone beeped.

“Bonnie’s outside.” Fliss stuck it back in her pocket and turned to Frank as he gently shifted Alex so he was a little more comfortable, his small hands curled around the bottle as he drank his milk.

“She not coming in?”

“No point, we’re only going straight back out.”

“Right.” Frank nodded as glanced back down at Alex. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking up at her and Fliss nodded back, a little too quickly, the way she always did when she was trying to hide something and Frank took a deep breath. “Liss…”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head. “Just a little wiped after today, that’s all.”  Frank sighed and Fliss narrowed her eyes as she turned towards the kitchen. “Don’t sigh at me like that.”

“I’m not sighing at you like anything.” He replied as she pulled out a bottle of wine to take with her. “Just wish you’d tell me what the problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem.” Fliss rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to Bonnie’s for a few hours. Is my life that sad that whenever I socialise it always has to be because I have a problem?”

“I didn’t say that.” Frank replied, calmly.

“Good, because that’s not why I’m going.”

Knowing he was beat, and that if he pushed it any further they were going to end up in a full scale argument, Frank nodded. “Okay then. Have fun, call me when you’re done.”

Fliss blinked, almost as if she was waiting for him to push her again, before she simply shrugged and leaned over to gently run her finger down Alex’s chubby cheek. She then turned to Frank gave him a quick kiss.

“Love you.” He pressed his lips to hers a little deeper, before she stepped back and he was pleased to see her smiling.

“Love you too.”

Frank watched her go, taking a deep breath as he glanced back down at his son. A few minutes later, Mary bounded into the room and Frank looked up at her.

“Did you hear back from the vets, you know about Cleo?” She asked.

“Yup.” Frank grinned, “wanna read the email?”

“Dur!” She grinned and Frank pulled his phone out form his pocket, scrolling with one hand to the email that had arrived earlier that afternoon before he handed it to her.

“Dear Mr Adler,” Mary read, “I’m pleased to inform you that Sandybrook Cleopatra has passed her five-stage-vetting, bla bla bla,” she skipped on a few lines, “negative worm count, negative for equine influenza, rhino-erm, what’s that?”

“Pneumonitis” Frank read as she turned the screen to him. “I’ve got no idea, some disease, obviously.”

“And Streptococcus Equi, oh I know that one. That’s strangles.” Mary nodded.

“Whatever you say, Stack.” Frank smiled.

“As such, please see attached the completed and fully executed Export Health Certificate. Upon arrival in the USA, your animal will require a further three days quarantine which you must organise ….bla bla bla!” Mary grinned up at him as she handed him his phone back. “So that’s it?”

“Yup!” Frank nodded, as he glanced down at Alex who was now turning away from his bottle, signalling he was done. ”Everything’s done, Jo’s sorted the stuff with Department of Agriculture at this end, el ponio is being collected by the UK transporter tomorrow morning and will be on a flight later that evening.” He paused to rearrange Alex over his shoulder to burp him. “So, if all goes according to plan, she’ll be arriving here after her quarantine mid-afternoon on Fliss’ birthday.” He nodded, before he mumbled. “Thirteen thousand bucks lighter.”

“Thirteen thousand!” Mary spluttered. “Holy shit!”

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Frank looked at her sternly as Alex gave a loud burp. Frank turned his head to look at him. “Better out than in, Bean.”

“Sorry but, Dad, that’s a lot of money. I thought they did you a deal and knocked half off her price because it was Fliss?”

“They did.” He shrugged as he stood and carried Alex over to his pack and play. “She still cost me three. The rest is the cost of the vetting and the transport. But, Poppa B and Nanny V have said they only want half back and Uncle Steeb is chucking in a couple of hundred towards it, so it’s kind of like a joint present.”

“She’s worth it!” Mary grinned and Frank chuckled, heading to kitchen area.

“The horse or Fliss?”

“Mom, of course.” Mary scoffed, hopping up onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

“She sure is.” Frank agreed as he opened the fridge. “But I’ll be telling her that’s her birthday this year, birthday next year, Christmas and first wedding anniversary present all rolled into one.”

“First anniversary?” Mary looked at him. “You ain’t even married yet!”

“I know but now I don’t have to think about buying her anything for like twelve months.” He shrugged, smirking to himself as he leaned down for a bottle of beer, knowing he was talking utter shit. There was no way that was gonna fly, and he didn’t even want to try for the simple reason he loved buying Fliss stuff that made her smile. Still, it was fun trying to watch Mary decide if he was joking or not.

“What about Mother’s Day?” She asked after a moment.

“She aint my mom,” Frank looked at her, “as the eldest the responsibility for that falls to you.” He twisted the lid off the beer as Mary narrowed her eyes. “You want a beer?” He waved the bottle at Mary.

“Really?” Her eyes grew wide.

“No, just wanted to see how much crap I could tell you that you’d actually believe.” He smirked. Mary blinked, before she let out a low groan, realising she’d been had.

“You’re such an idiot.” She shook her head, and Frank watched, chuckling to himself as she bent down, picked Fred up and stalked to her Den, Thor hot on her tail.

*****

“So, I thought,” Bonnie grinned, turning the laptop to face Fliss as they sat at her kitchen table, “that this one sounds perfect. It sleeps up to twelve, has a pool, hot tub, is a short walk to the beach, not far from down-town and also literally a five minute walk to the hotel we stayed in, where we can get a really good deal on a Day-Spa package. And, we can also get someone in on the Saturday to do a grill and cocktails for us, if that’s what you wanna do.”

Fliss gave a small smile, and Bonnie frowned. “Or, not. Sorry, is it not what you wanted? I thought-“ Fliss sighed, her hand laying on Bonnie’s arm. “No, that…” she took a deep breath and smiled, “it sounds perfect, Bonnie. Honestly it does.”

“So, why are you making me feel like I’ve given you a dog turd on a plate and told you it’s your dinner?”

At that Fliss choked on the mouthful of wine she’d taken and looked at her best friend. “You know, for a teacher, you really have a way with words.”

Bonnie chuckled, as Fliss shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. I’m just feeling a little…actually, I don’t know what I’m feeling. Pissed off, maybe?”

“Why, what’s happened?” Bonnie looked at her.

“Just…oh, you know what, it’s nothing.” Fliss brushed it off, necking the remainder of the wine in her bottle. “Can I get a top up?”

“I’ll get it.” Bonnie nodded and stood up from the table. A moment or two later she returned, and held the bottle up. “You speak, and I’ll pour.”

Fliss blinked, realising she wasn’t going to get away with it, so she sat back and blurted everything out. How she’d felt seeing Frank with the bimbo at the yard, how she was feeling a little insecure over how she looked because she’d once upon a time been that groomed, perfect looking person. And the more she talked, the more tumbled out about how she felt sometimes that Frank was way out of her league before Bonnie shook her head and cut her off.

“Are you listening to yourself?” She scoffed. “Jesus Christ, I haven’t heard anyone talk this much shit since Simon told me he was gonna run a marathon.”

“Hey, you asked what was wrong.” Fliss looked at her, her temper flashing a little. “I’m just telling you!”

“Yeah, and I’m just telling you, you’re a fucking moron.” Bonnie shook her head. “Fliss, you’re beautiful. Honestly, like, if I have kids and end up with your figure after, I’ll be over the moon. But that aside, Frank loves YOU. Not the way you look, or the way your hair is styled, or the way your eyebrows are painted on, he loves you.”

“I know.” Fliss nodded, sniffing a little. “I know he does, and I know he’d never cheat on me, I get that. I just, oh I don’t know, I don’t know why I feel like this. I can’t explain it.”

Bonnie side eyed Fliss as she topped her glass up before she sat down at the table, taking a deep breath. “Do you think this has anything to do with your ex?”

Fliss frowned, shaking her head. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you told me he used to put you down about how you looked, compared you to other women he, well, fucked behind your back.” Bonnie trailed off. “I don’t know, I was just thinking maybe that deep in your mind, you kinda still think you should have a face caked in make-up and boobs pushed up to your chin.”

Fliss gave a snort at Bonnie’s description before she shrugged. “I don’t feel like that, not really. I’ve never bothered about anything like that whilst I’ve been with Frank. But something about her just pissed me off, more so because she was doing it right there in my own back fucking yard.” Fliss took another slug of wine before she bit her lip. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s because she reminds me of that past life.” She tapped her nails against her glass. “But, I was fucking miserable, and now I’m not, so why would I even bother about some bimbo flirting with my man? It’s not like he did anything or was gonna.”

“So, basically, we’ve come to the conclusion that this woman is a tramp and you’re an idiot.” Bonnie nodded and despite herself, Fliss laughed.

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Hmm,” Bonnie sipped her wine. “Okay, I’m glad we got that sorted.” She took another sip before she gently reached out and squeezed Fliss hand. “You got nothing to worry about. Frank adores you, to be honest, me and Simon always say it’s kinda gross the way he’s always like looking at you with stupid doe eyes or touching you whenever he can.”

Fliss smiled, a fond look crossing her face as she knew what Bonnie was saying was true. Any chance Frank got he would touch or cuddle her, and it was never in a dominant way like it had been with John, it was because he simply wanted to, it was his love language. “Yeah, he’s touchy.”

Bonnie smiled and sat back as Fliss took a deep breath. “But you should talk to him, tell him how you feel.”

Fliss shrugged. “Maybe, like you said, I’m being an idiot.” She gave her friend another smile before she nodded back towards the laptop. “But, now for the fun stuff. Show me what you got planned for our weekend of debauchery in Miami, Maid Of Honor!”

**** It was a little before ten when Fliss called Frank to say she was ready for pick up if he still wanted to come get her, which was a dumb question, because of course he did. He packed the kids into the car, and drove the fifteen minutes or so to Bonnie’s and Fliss clambered into the passenger seat, her cheeks flushed a little from the wine. After giving him a quick kiss, she turned to smile at Mary who beamed at her, her head torch already in position, Thor’s flashing light up collar sitting pretty around his neck as he perched in the middle seat between her and Alex who was in the baby chair, fast asleep.

They drove down to the Public Access, the same stretch of beach they would be married on in a matter of weeks, and all climbed out, Frank gently settling Alex in the carrier that hung over his chest before he offered Fliss his hand and they headed onto the moonlit sand. They walked in silence for a while, the air finally cooled enough to be enjoyable, Mary running ahead of them, Thor gambolling in and out of the waves, giving a little bark of enjoyment as he chased the surf.

“He’s gonna be soaked when he gets back in the truck.” Frank groaned and Fliss laughed.

“Should have come in mine, he could have sat in the trunk.”

“He can ride home on the flatbed.”

“Don’t you dare.” Fliss nudged Frank with her elbow and he chuckled, his arm sliding round her shoulder as he pressed a kiss to her head.

“You gonna tell me what’s bothering you now?” Frank asked as they continued to stroll up the beach.

“Nothing.”

“Lissy.” Frank spoke sternly and stopped to face her. She let out a sigh, her hand reaching up to smooth over Alex’s hair as he lay slumped against his dad’s chest.

“I’m being an idiot, I know that. But seeing you before, at the yard I just…”

It was Frank’s turn to sigh as he shook his head. “Honey, I-“

“No, I know what you’re gonna say but, I just, well, she was there looking like a fucking model and then there was me, and I used to be that size, and I used to be that person, that looked half decent, you know? I can’t remember the last time I actually wore any form of make-up bar a bit of tinted moisturiser or mascara, or when I last straightened my hair, let alone painted on my damned eyebrows! And then she’s flirting with you flashing her perfect teeth, and her perfect fake boobs and her line free brow and plump lips, all full of fillers and botox and-“

“You want Botox?” Frank cut her off mid rant and Fliss let out a groan.

“No I don’t want fucking Botox, Frank!”

“Well shut up talking about it then!” He laughed. “Look, I don’t want that fake shit either. Do I look like the type of guy who wants someone who is just one step away from being a Malibu Barbie? Fuck that!”

“You look like the type of guy who should want a Malibu Barbie.” Fliss replied, somewhat sullenly. “You don’t see the looks you get every time we go out.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You know, girls like that are ten a penny down on the boardwalk. But you’re the one I took sailing.” “Thanks a backhanded compliment.” Fliss narrowed her eyes and Frank laughed, cupping her face in his hands.

“Look, Sweetheart, I love you.” He shrugged simply. “Because you’re beautiful, inside and out and because you’re my Lissy.” He pulled her face up to meet his, placing a soft kiss to her lips, his nose sliding against hers.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I wasn’t mad at you, just feeling a little low I suppose.”

“You know I get it too.” Frank smiled, dropping his hands to take hers. “You think I don’t notice the looks you get when we go out?”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” Frank assured her as he entwined their fingers together. “But I don’t care. Because I know you’re mine, and I’m yours. So please don’t think for a second I’d even think about anyone else that way.”

He dropped a soft, slow, deep kiss to her lips and when she pulled back, she smiled.

“Sorry, I know, I was being an idiot.”

“Yeah.” He nodded in agreement and she chuckled as he returned his arm to round her shoulders and they continued walking, the sound of the waves against the shore a perfect back drop to Mary’s excited shouts and Thor’s little barks.

“When you said you said you wouldn’t think about anyone…” She started and Frank was pleased to note her voice was full of mischief, his playful Lissy was back.

“Well,” he wrinkled his nose, shrugging a little, “maybe if Rihanna came knocking then I’d have to give it some serious consideration.”

“To be fair I’d give it some serious consideration, too.” Fliss mused and Frank arched a brow, teasingly as he looked down at her.

“Yeah?”

“Damned straight. I’d do her, she’s hot.” Fliss shrugged and Frank’s face split into a dirty grin as he stopped them both, using the arm round her shoulder to spin her into him as best he could with their son placed between them.

“Now there’s an image!” His voice was loaded with suggestiveness and Fliss laughed as his lips brushed hers.

“Pervert.” She whispered, her hand once more sweeping over the back of their sleeping baby’s head.

“Only for you.” He smiled, before he looked up, considering something. “And Rihanna.”

**** Chapter 25

[atomicblasphemy]

So, that before opening credits scene at the grom episode, I’ve been putting a lot of thinking into it. Here’s the thing, we see the portal open and King is watching so videos on Luz’s phone, right? Moreover, there’s a charger there that leads straight to the aforementioned portal. Now, this means that they are pretty much siphoning electricity from somewhere in the human realm. And we know for a fact that the human realm side of the portal is in a ran down shack that’s pretty unlikely to have power, also its in a pretty isolated wooden area. This leads to the unavoidable questions of: a - where the hell is the outlet?  b - how long is that damn extension cord (and where can I buy one as long as that)?

For all we know, Luz and Camila’s home is the closest building to that ran down shack, i.e. the most likely answer to question a. This raises a few interesting scenarios, because it means that someone from the owl house would need to go through the portal, probably carrying an obscene amount of electric cables, go into Camila’s home, plug it, and make sure that Camila won’t unplug it.

First candidate for the job would be King, obviously. Problem is, he probably wouldn’t stand for such a lowly job. Besides he is likely too tiny to carry all that  amount of power cables.

Second candidate: Luz herself. This should be even more difficult.

-----------

“Mija? What are you doing?”

“Oh... Hi, Mami... Nothing, just uhhh charging my phone.”

“Why here, though? Don’t they have power at camp? Is that why you’re not returning my messages?”

“They... uhhh...” *sprints back to the portal*

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

And, of course the third candidate would be Eda.

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

“Miss Noceda, I understand you are in a lot of distress right now. But I need you to try again and tell us what happened in a calm manner. You said there was a break in, right? Where did the intruder go and when did this creature appear?”

After taking a few long breaths, looking at the officer’s eyes she continued. A few meters behind a large feathery figure lay asleep, it’s body coated with the colors of many tranquilizing darts.

“I... I was trying to get some sleep. I have long shifts and little chance to rest so this normally comes pretty easily. But as soon as my head hits the pillow I start hearing noises from downstairs, like someone going through my stuff. So I grab the first heavy object I find and start making my way there. So... In the middle of the living room is this tall white lady, striking ambar eyes, long grey hair going all the way down to her hips... and that tight fitting burgundy dress, like something that she had worn multiple times, but she still looked surprisingly elegant in it...” “Ma’am, please stay on track. You mentioned she said her name was ‘Edalyn Clawthorne’, most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles. Is that correct?”

“Right, sorry about that. But yeah, that’s correct.”

“We have checked, many times actually, for an Edalyn Clawthorne and nothing came up. Needless to say the same goes for those ‘Boiling Isles’. Did the intruder present any other form of behavior that you, especially considering your line of work, would understand as indicative of drug use or anything along those lines?”

“Humm... Well... Right after she introduced herself she said she was there to steal my power, some of my stuff... then she took a long look at me and said ‘and with some luck, your heart’. Then she winked at me and... I believe the kids call it fingerguns... She did that. That’s pretty much all that happened before I remember this person was invading my house and then I started yelling and trying to hit her with my bedside lamp. That’s when... Look, you won’t believe me anyway...”

“Why don’t you try me anyway?”

After taking a deep sigh, Camila continued.

“Right... At first she seemed like she was trying to calm me down or something. Then all of a sudden her eyes started going all black...”

“Mhmm”

“She let out this blood curling screech. It sounded almost as if she was in pain.”

“Mhmm”

“Then the feathers started appearing, her body started growing... I really thought she was going to kill me.”

“I see... That being the case how do you explain the first officers in the scene reporting they found the creature cuddling up to you in the front porch and the two of you watching Up! on your phone?”

“Well... First of all, shiny things seem to calm her down. Second, I didn’t know birds could purr.”

Meanwhile, the house’s backdoor is open, a long white cord snake in. It’s end laying a few inches from an unused outlet.

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

Suffice to say Eda would be a no go either.

This leaves Owlbert. He is used to the human realm, but there’s again the problem of size. Nevertheless, the biggest problem is he obvious cuteness, which means that if Camilla is anything like her daughter, means the lady will try adopting and we might get some kind of weird reverse version of the show staring Camilla and Owlbert.

This leaves one final option. And I think it is important at this point to remind ourselves that it is of the utmost importance that the power cord remains connected to an outlet in the Noceda household at all times.

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

Camila had just laid her head on the pillow. The softness of the fabric was a great contrast to the sounds emerging from downstairs. There was no question: her house was being burglarized. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence around those parts, she wanted to afford Luz the most safety and comfort possible but there was only so much her limited income could do. She was terrified, but also curious. After all, it stands to reason that criminals more often than not use discretion as their best weapon, the way the make sure to be long gone before the victim ever realizes that there even was a crime.

Whoever was downstairs, they had not intention of making their presence a secret. They had broken through the window and the shattering glass was loud enough in the mostly empty house, but that didn’t seem to be enough for whoever was down there. It sounded as though a tornado was taking place entirely on her living room and kitchen.

Curiosity defeats fear. She opens her chamber door, tentative steps heading towards the stairways. She was never a reckless person, she knew the costs and consequences actions can have. But something deep in her being, churning up her guts, screamin that what was taking place in her home did not belong in this world. That whatever it was she would never have another chance of witnessing and no amount of adult responsibility can defeat the childish urge for wonder. She thought of the daughter she so missed. And such novelties are hardly ever divorced from the fear of the unknown.

The final step and she was at last on ground level. Sure enough, she could see plenty signs of the devastation. Furniture upturned, shelves spilling their contents on the floor, dirt and mud splattered in all surfaces. But, nothing missed. Not much broken either. Whoever was there, their intentions evaded her entirely.

The kitchen. A loud metallic bang came from the kitchen.

When had she start shaking?

She regrets her former bravery, but she was a Noceda, she crossed the sea in search of a better life. She faced monsters before. She was no coward.

Camila Noceda was no coward. She looked into the kitchen.

There was the intruder, whatever it was. She lacked names for the being, no, the monster making a ruckus in her kitchen. In it’s beak a plug it tried to jam into one of the outlets on the wall and surprisingly enough it was the one closest to the window it had entered through. And she knew that that had been the entry point better than she knew her own name at this point. It the shattered glass on the flower was not incontrovertible evidence enough the damning proof was that the being had not yet finished crossing that threshold. Perhaps it never would. Its body, this elongated yellow mass of yellow feathers was still on the window, going back into the woods to an unfathomable distances.

This monster, she knew did not belong in this world. Reality was unkind, and working with the healing of bodies she knew nature could be cruel. But this. This was madness. And finally when the creature seems to notice her presence the void in it’s eyes seemed to voice agreement with such belief.

It’s birdlike face inched ever closer to Camila’s. She couldn’t move. The power cord still in the creatures beaks. Camila would have once considered owls as the most precious and adorable birds. No longer.

It offered the power cord to the human. She plugged it. Mortals could not challenge the designs of immortals, after all.

The creature seemed satisfied. It’s face grew even closer to Camila’s, and finally a sound in a surprisingly screechy voice echoed through the ravaged home and it’s denizens soul:

“H O O T”

And before perception could catch up, it was gone.

She would live in the house for the remainder of the many decades of her life. Things would change, new pieces of furniture, new colors, adaptations to accommodate an aging body.

Much would change in the Noceda home over the years. But that plugged power cord would be a constant. A heirloom she would pass on for generations. An offering to make sure whatever demon, or god she made acquaintances with that night would remain satisfied, not to return to this world, not to ravage it one home at a time again.

--------

So yeah, I’m pretty sure Hooty was the one that made sure the owl house has a reliable source of electricity.

[lokidrabbles]

Perfect Fit (Loki x Reader)

Peter Parker tells reader about what Loki thinks of them.

A/N: Another oneshot, this time featuring Spiderman as the medium for Reader and Loki. Also, my headcanon remains that Loki refers to Peter as Spider Boy. As always, Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: None! Fluff n’ such!

Your eyes peered up from your paperwork to catch sight of the fidgeting teen sitting in front of your desk. You empathized with him. It was always some sort of hell fire when Tony or any of the Avengers reprimanded one of the outlier members for failing to complete a mission in time, or failing to follow a inward duty to protect others. Although the consequences of the damage the young Spiderman had left behind were very minimal (extensive property damage, but no one seriously hurt), Tony still upheld his duty as Peter’s pseudo guardian, and laid it hard on him.

As part of the process, you were in charge of filling all the damage reports and costs left behind by the throws of battle, and Tony ordered Peter to witness the extent of his mistake through financial eyes. Or maybe through boring clerical work. Whatever the matter, Peter looked absolutely nervous, probably dreading to hear just how much his antics caused the city (or Tony).

“You know I’m not actually going to tell you how much cash Tony is going to have to fork out, right?” You asked him, causing him to jump slightly.

“What, really? I mean, are you sure? ‘Cus I’m sure Mr. Stark wanted me to, uh, witness the depth of my carelessness.” He stuttered in response.

“I mean yes, you definitely want to be more cautious. But this, in comparison to Tony’s own damage cost analysis, is almost nothing. I’m sure this is just his weird way of wanting to make sure you’re keeping the citizens and yourself safe out there. Also I feel if I tell you, you’re going to be harder on yourself than you need to be.”

Peter let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. I really am sorry about what happened, I did try to be as careful as I could.”

“I’m sure you did kid. The important thing is that building was insured, and that no one was seriously hurt. You good?”

“Yes, yes!” He responded hastily, and you almost felt the weight being lifted from his shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re just as nice as Mr. Loki mentioned you to be.”

You shot a quizzical look at Peter. “Uh, Mr. Loki?”

“Well, yeah? Mr. Thor’s brother? I’ve seen you both together a lot here at the facility.”

Of course you knew who he was talking about, but the fact that Loki made his chipper self into this conversation was odd at best. From your documentation, you found out Loki had been assigned to this small escapade in the outskirts of the city. It actually made you content to see Tony’s mistrust in him begin to dwindle, allowing him to participate in the Avenger’s daily heroism. You could almost see his sour face once he found out this precise squad would be lead by Tony himself. But it made sense.

“What’s Mr. Loki doing gossiping about me to you?” You asked teasingly.

“Nothing bad! I can swear by that!” Peter said, putting his hands up in defense. “I think he just wanted me to feel better.”

“That’s a good one kid.” You chuckled. “It’s a miracle on it’s own to have Loki talk one word to anyone. You have no idea how long it took me to have him say a simple hello to me.”

“Really?” Peter asked, slowly pulling his hands down. “I know Mr. Loki is always very reserved, and he was a little scary at first. But he’s actually kind of, really nice too.”

“You must have a very skewed definition of nice.” You said sarcastically. You jested however. You had experienced Loki’s ‘niceness’ firsthand, in his own bizarre way. Loki’s form of nice didn’t really fall under your typical definition of it. Nice was, for example, telling someone thank you, bringing thoughtful gifts, buying someone lunch. Loki’s nice more so included telling you that you were being stupid and foolish for failing to believe in yourself, and that you should be ashamed of yourself, blah blah blah. He got the right intention, but his delivery was horrible. You cringed at the thought of poor little Peter having to go through that.

“I mean, maybe? He was very helpful during the mission, and his strategy at the whole thing. I was like, wow! He moved so fast in between everything, I had such a hard time keeping up. Though, maybe that’s why I got so distracted in the first place.” He sighed, still blatantly defeated for his error.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself though. For what it is, I think you’re a pretty talented kid too.” You said with a toothy smile. “Loki’s just a big show off though.”

He laughed in a much more relaxed manner. “Thanks, that means a lot. But I must have really taken it hard when Mr. Stark raised his voice at me. Mr. Loki approached me and told me I’d be sent over to your department and how you’d be very welcoming, nice and easygoing.”

You were slightly irritated at how Loki found it so easy to tell Peter all these likeable things about you, yet still failed to do so with you in person. Yet, you knew his reason’s to do so with Peter. Again, Loki wasn’t the most approachable man in the universe, but that didn’t mean he was completely heartless. His words with Peter, while few, were carefully chose to make the young teen feel less anxious. You mentally reminded yourself to give a him a big smooch the next time you saw him.

“I’m actually really happy to hear that.” You said, leaning against the back of your chair. “It looks like he found someone who he’s comfortable with, so that gives me some peace at mind.”

Peter became obviously confused at your comment. “I’m not sure I get that.”

“You said it best at first. He’s a scary fella. But it seems you got to him somehow. So trust me, from now on you got another set of eyes keeping watch of you, making sure you’re safe out there.”

“Actually, I think that make’s me a little more nervous.” He said sheepishly.

“Oh well yeah, be very wary of the God of Mischief.” You said ominously, followed by a snort and giggle.

“Oh, wait. Are you and Mr. Loki dating?”

Your giggles soon stopped, as your mouth remained agape in shock. Again, this was not where you expected a conversation about Loki to go to. You now felt like the nervous teenager in the room instead. Through its entirety, both you and Loki did well at keeping the relationship under wraps, understanding the impending chaos that would ensue if anyone (Tony and Thor) would find out. Well, maybe Loki could care less, but you still had a job and income to maintain. While inner work relationships were not uncommon here, there might be some adherence to having a relationship with someone who used to be on the blacklist.

“No.” You said lowly. Even you wouldn’t have believed that no.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything like that. It’s just, Mr. Loki seemed to have talked fondly of you, and I do see you both together quite a bit. Also you both look really good together, but like not to mean you are dating or anything!”

“Okay Peter! I think we’re done here. I’ll take care of the rest, tell Tony you learned your lesson and all BS, and you can be on your merry little way, yes?” You said, rummaging through you documents, and handing Peter a crumpled up slip with your signature on it.

Peter took the slip slowly, unsure of what he hand uncovered with his innocent introspection. “Are you okay?”

“I’m super.” You feigned through a false smile. “Thanks for dropping by, but I got some more work to do.”

The young teen, still bewildered by your sudden agitation, took it for nothing and soon tip toed out of your small office. You let out a heavy breath and slumped in your chair. It seemed you were in the clear for now, and you figured Peter would be a smart kid and avoid spreading unnecessary rumors. Also for the sole fact that his life would be at risk if Loki were to ever find out he’d tattle at Tony. Still, your mind raced back to the encounter Peter had told you about, and how Loki made a worthwhile impression on the young teen. It warmed your heart knowing someone else seemed to have approved of your gloomy partner.

Towards the end of your shift, you were visited by said partner in efforts to soon spend a relaxing evening at your home. Loki casually seated himself on the seat in front of your desk, arms crossed over his chest.

“I hear the Spider boy paid you a little visit?” He asked playfully.

“He did in fact. He’s a sweet kid.” You responded, eye still glued on your computer screen. “A little naive, but sweet.”

“Stark was relentless on him today. Dare I say, I felt sorry for the lad. He looked like a scared puppy.”

You hummed in a chipper manner. “Yeah, he told me all about it. He also told me how Mr.Loki made him feel a whole lot better today.”

You heard Loki grunt, a way for him to avoid talking about it. You figured it was still awkward for him to hear about his ‘good deeds’ with the type of shit he’s gone through.

“He was very impressed by your skills set. You may have a little fan boy in the making.” You grinned, finally closing your laptop. “I think we should adopt him as our child.”

“You’re hysterical.” He responded flatly.

“I’m mad at you though.” You said as you began to gather your belongings.

Loki raised an eyebrow at you. “Pray tell why?”

“How come you tell Peter all of these nice things about me, yet you always avoid doing so to my face?”

Loki remained quiet, draw back by the nature of your question. You meant to approach the subject in a playful manner, still understanding how Loki had his own special way of showing affection. Yet, you saw how Loki rested his chin at the top of his knuckles, analyzing and concocting an appropriate answer. He looked adorable.

“I suppose I really haven’t done so.” He said admittedly. “What would you like to hear?”

You felt your face heat up. “It doesn’t really work if I tell you what I want to hear. Also, that’s embarrassing.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Peter told me all the good things though.” You began. “It does make me happy that you think that way about me, instead of an absolute bother.”

He rolled his eyes. “I do hate your incessant ability to self-deprecate. However, everything else the Spider boy mentioned is absolutely true.”

“How lovely to hear.”

Loki stood up and began assisting you with your bags and belongings. You smiled with a strong sense of satisfaction, promptly turning off the lights in your office.

“I also forgot to mention to him that you’re amazing, and incredible.” He whispered behind you. “That I love your smile, and I love how your hand fits so well into mine. That I always look forward to seeing your bright eyes every single day, that I-”

You felt your lips begin to twist in both joy and uneasiness. You jabbed Loki slightly at his side, urging to promptly stop before you explore. “Cut it out. I can’t tolerate this level of cheesiness.”

He smirked mischievously at you. “Then I will have to draw out my admiration for you with the Spider boy if you aren’t able to tolerate it. I’m sure he would be more than happy to hear about it.”

“You better fucking not.”

---

Later in the evening, a young Peter Parker, overseeing the block from the top of a building, took note of Mr. Loki firmly leaving the facility with you, hands hidden, side by side. Upon further inspection, Peter deducted it would be best to keep quiet about this encounter, sensing how distressed you had been about it earlier today. He felt correct about his assumption however; both you and Loki looked good together.

[tmnt-veelicious]

Across the Stars - Ch.17

*crawls out of a hole* HOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLYYYY FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

Yes. I am alive.

Yes I had a rough patch of life over the last few months.

And jeeeeesus, I think I wrote the beginning of this chapter like 3 times....

BUT IT’S HERE. AND I’M SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG. At least the next chapter will be interesting and will introduce some new characters!!! I am definitely feeling the writing juices flowing~

First Chapter -> HERE Previous Chapter -> HERE Next Chapter -> SOON

''I think this neighborhood suits you,'' started April as both women were comfortably seated at a table in a cozy café. Vee couldn't help her quiet chuckle, crossing her arms as her eyes ventured to the large window that offered a view to the street. ''I think it does too..., but I'll be so far from everything. Mostly far from Donnie. He's downtown and I'd be uptown...'' ''It's not so bad! You know these guys can travel fast and they know the city like no one else.'' True. A small sigh escaped the artist, her attention back to the other. She was glad the reporter had answered her call. Vee confessed feeling stupid for her sudden departure and her attitude, but April had been quick to waive those away, answering that all that mattered was that her friend was safe. The only thing left to do was to move forward. Harlem seemed like a nice place. It was mostly known for its nightlife and its jazz influences, to which Vee felt drawn to. Maybe she'd have opportunities up here, who knows? Her train of thoughts came to a stop as a waitress got to their table; a lovely african american woman adorning a dark afro like a crown. Vee did admire her style, noticing her septum piercing and her 'au naturel' look. It didn't seem like much, but so many people could ever inspire the artist, and that was the beauty of living in New York. As the orders were taken and the women left with coffees in hands, proper discussions could finally start. ''So...starting a family?'' started Vee. ''Since when were you two planning that little adventure?'' April's smile was soft: ''We were talking about it for several months, but only recently did we really start to properly consider it.'' ''Even with both your lifestyles? … You wouldn't be the most 'typical' and 'calm' family.'' ''I don't think that should stop us, or anyone. … It's something we both want, Vee, and we're ready to work for it.'' ''I'm not saying the opposite, don't worry!'' quickly reassured Vee. ''… I guess I'm just having a hard time wrapping my head around that idea. I never really thought about having kids, so the thought process kinda escapes me.'' ''Oh?'' the reporter slightly cocked her head to one side, curious. ''I don't want to say I'm surprised, but still am nonetheless.'' The other woman seemed amused: ''There's so many things I have yet to accomplish.... Getting a child is the least of my worries right now. I guess I just don't really feel compelled at the idea.'' ''In that case I can understand,'' added April with a soft smile. ''It's only natural that you'd want to advance your career and get more stability, I get that.'' The conversation paused as their food arrived. But as soon as both were left alone again, the reporter couldn't help squinting a little, now curious: ''Although.... do you think you could ever have kids with Donnie?'' Vee almost spat her coffee, her thoughts suddenly rolling at a franctic pace. She frowned, reminiscing all those times they had sex without any protection. ''I, uh... I'm not sure,'' frankly answered the artist. ''I've never really thought about it, but now that you mention it, I should verify with him.'' ''I think it'd be in both your interests to set things clear. At least you'll know where you both stand in this...'' ''Yeah … that's for sure.'' What if he wanted kids? Could it be possible? At least for now her cycle had been steady and normal, so there was no fear regarding that. And the relationship was still in its early stages – it was too soon to think about that! Oh, those thoughts would plague her mind for the rest of the day, she knew that...   ''Anyway, enough kid talk,'' said April, thankfully interrupting Vee's thinking. ''I wanted to discuss apartment and furniture with you.'' ''What, you wanna know how I'll decorate my fortress of solitude?'' playfully commented the artist. ''Oh come on now...'' ''Just kidding, just kidding, don't worry. What's on your mind?'' ''Since I'll be moving in with Casey and he pretty much already has everything in terms of furniture... I was thinking about giving you some of the stuff we have at the apartment. Fridge, oven, whatever you need.'' The artist lightly frowned. ''Wait... give? April, I can't just receive without giving in return. Tell me your price and I'll gladly give you so-'' ''Vee, please,'' gently cut the reporter. ''… I know I'm putting you in a difficult situation and things can turn expensive. I want to help in any way I can, plus you can always repay me in other ways. Don't worry about it. I've given it some thought and I'm at peace with that.'' And the artist was absolutey thankful. Knowing she didn't make the best of incomes, this help felt like a miracle. … Just thinking about all her future expenses was enough to make her head spin, but at least with Donnie's help – and now April – she knew she could get a good footing and proceed without immense struggles. ''Also,'' added April, ''I know you don't have the best of conversations with your parents regarding your choice of living in New York, so I wanted to ease things up by giving you a good headstart and make them less worried.'' Vee softly sighed, although showing a small smile. She knew the brunette had heard some bits and pieces of conversations ever since she moved in. Even if the dialogues had been in French, it was not hard to notice the argumentative nature of those calls. ''I, uhm … it's been almost a month since I spoke to any of them, so there's nothing to worry about for now,'' said Vee. ''Is everything alright?'' ''The less I talk to them, the better! So, yes, everything is fine,'' tried to reassure the artist. April seemed good with the answer, but there was no denying that for Vee to avoid her family, it would probably blow back to her face in a nasty way. But today was not the day to think about such matter. Breakfast done and over with, both women were now on their way to visit the apartments. The first one proved to be a complete disaster; mold found in the bathroom and under the kitchen sink, only two windows and barely any natural light coming in, a broken wardrobe door in the bedroom. The landlord didn't seem like the most caring person either, insisting that he'd get the needed repairs done once a new tenant would move in. ''Those things have a cost, you know?'' he would say. … And this apartment will be a hard pass, you know? Vee couldn't believe that she got fooled by the advertisment online. It seemed so nice... At least the second stop was promising. The lot was at the top floor of a five story high building. The entrance was a small hallway that had one door to the left which gave to the bedroom (with a window!), and a door to the right that gave to the bathroom. The end of the hallway gave to an open area to which the left part was planned for a living room, and the right had space for a kitchen, the area delimited by a side hall that gave enough surface for an extension of the counter tops. Some windows gave enough light into the place, as well as a nice view on the street and buildings around. Plus, the living room windows were tall and large enough, one being an entryway to the emergency staircase outside the building. It was perfect. *** Her step was light as she made her way back to the lair, the greatest grin plastered to her face. She did it! Well … almost! But it was at least a first step in the right direction. Her first point of interest when she arrived was Donnie's workspace, but she found it empty, instantly bringing a small frown on Vee's features. Maybe she should check the garage next? Her attention snapped when she heard a sharp sound – a can being opened. Turning around, she slightly jumped as she spotted Mikey nearby, an orange crush drink in his hand. '' 'Sup?'' ''Jesus, Mikey, you gave me a mini heart attack,'' she breathed out. ''Oops, my bad,'' he said, taking a sip. ''You lookin' for Don? He just got out on patrol with Raph.'' ''… Aren't you guys supposed to lay low for a while with the Purple Dragons and Foot Clan situation?'' The orange clad one shrugged: ''Going out on patrol doesn't mean we're looking for them, you know? We still gotta look out for the bad ones on the streets. Plus, going out in small numbers attracts less attention.'' ''Huh... touché,'' admitted Vee. ''I guess the good news can wait, then.'' ''What good news?'' The artist's grin was back: ''I might have found a new apartment! The landlord just needs to do a credit check and then, if it's all good, the place will be mine.'' The terrapin's smile was soon as big as Vee's: ''Yo! That's awesome! Where is it? How big is it?'' The woman didn't wast any time to grab a blank sheet of paper and a pencil laying around on Donnie's desk, already starting to sketch the layout of the apartment. Deep in her explanations, she did not notice Leonardo now standing near, trying to take a peek from behind. ''What's that?'' he asked. Vee slightly jumped again, already on the lookout for the leader. ''JEEZE, what's with you guys scaring me tonight?!'' Leo showed an amused smile, arms crossed before him as he took some pride in that comment. ''I'm an excellent ninja. Getting to scare you means I'm doing a good job.'' ''Alright, don't get too cocky.'' She briefly sighed, next bringing the paper to clearer view. ''Behold, this is probably my next apartment!'' The blue clad mutant took some seconds to observe the layout, pensive. ''… There's quite some windows in there. I'll have to get Donnie to secure the place so no one can spot you and get in.'' ''Leo! Chill!'' faintly laughed Vee. ''I don't even completely own the place yet. Plus I'll be on the fifth floor; I'd like to see anyone get in other than by the emergency staircase or the entry door.'' ''I'm sorry I am cursed with the leader plague. I always have to think many steps ahead.'' Vee's smile was soft: ''Don't worry, it's appreciated. But now it's time to celebrate! There's no place for worry tonight!'' ''Now we're talkin'!'' added Mikey playfully, rubbing his hands together. ''… Watchu wanna do?'' The artist left her paper back on her boyfriend's desk, a smug smile now showing on her features. ''Donnie and I do have a little secret stash of red wine, and I fully plan on going through one bottle tonight.'' ''Hell yeah!'' Mikey was now nudging his brother's arm with his elbow. ''Care for a drink as well? Come ooooonnnnnnnn.'' Leo was squinting, trying to appear severe, but it didn't take long for him to conceed with a grin, his posture relaxing. ''Alright. Just one.'' *** Vee was delightfully surprised to learn that Leo also had a taste for red wine, happily sharing her bottle with him – and of course he did take more than one drink. Meanwhile Mikey had opted for beer, some cans already resting in the fridge. It felt good to kick back and just be happy, living in the present and have no worries. But soon celebrations took an interesting turn, Vee definitely inspired by her luck and feeling a little bold. An idea came to her mind as Mikey was showing her some stuff he was hoarding, especially when it came to hair dye bottles. She had always wanted to try a new hair color... It didn't take long before everyone was set up: Vee sitting in a chair with a towel over her shoulders, hair in layers. Mikey had ''borrowed'' some of Donnie's latex gloves (used for when he was tattooing), already at the task of applying the chosen color. Meanwhile Leonardo was sitting nearby, keeping company and enjoying the show. ''It's gonna look dope as fuck,'' commented the orange clad turtle, hair dye brush in hand as he was spreading some color. ''I'm kinda nervous about it, though,'' added Vee. ''Last time I did something to my hair, it was only some blonde streaks here and there. … It's my first time going full on with a non-natural color.'' ''There's never nothing wrong with going wild once in a while,'' said Leo. The artist threw him a glance, somewhat amused. ''Says the guy who seems to overworry a LOT about anything.'' ''Hey, I have my moments, alright,'' chuckled the leader, next taking a sip of wine. Mikey tsked; ''What, your last wild thing was to shorten your training time or somethin'?'' ''Nooooo, I-...'' Leo lightly frowned, his lips forming a thin line. A sharp sigh left him as he confessed: ''I asked Mikasa out.'' Both Mikey and Vee's gazes were now locked on him, their smiles wide. ''Finally!'' let out the woman. ''How did it go? Is everything good?'' ''Spill the tea, bro!'' chided in Mikey. Leo's smile was shy, carefully choosing his words. ''We're still figuring some things out, I guess? It all started when we got to you both at the Maneki Neko... I brought her back to her apartment and we kissed. … I dunno how to explain it, it just felt right at that moment.'' ''So far, so good,'' commented Vee. ''What's next?'' ''I'll admit that I chickened out after that,'' continued the leader. ''I just didn't know yet if I was ready to get into some sort of relationship. I was a douche and I didn't say or text a word to her after a couple of days.'' ''You're a fucking dumbass,'' added the other turtle, slightly scolding as he parted some more layers of Vee's hair. Leo raised his glass a little: ''On that I agree, BUT! I kicked my own ass and finally got back in touch with her yesterday. I explained the situation to her and she agreed to meeting up and talk about it a little more. … I'm just-'' His eyes met Vee's, somehow pleading. ''How can I know she really likes me? For crying out loud, how did you know you liked Donnie?'' The artist couldn't help her laugh, surprising both mutants. Leo didn't really know how to react. ''Did … did I say something wrong orrrr?'' ''No, no! Good gosh, no!'' tried to rectify Vee, calming her laughter. ''Oh jeeze, Leo, you and Mikasa are just so freakin' adorable. …. Would you believe me if I told you that she kinda asked me the same question a while ago?'' The blue one showed a smirk, amused: ''Welp, I won't hide that I had a smiliar conversation with Donnie as well.'' ''See!'' pointed the woman. ''Dammit, you two. Mikasa likes you, okay? You guys … all four of you, there are people who're gonna like you and even love you for who you are, no matter the fact that you're mutants. Damn, get that drilled in your heads, alright?!'' Mikey couldn't contain a chuckle: ''You're pretty straight-forward when you get some drinks in you, Vee.'' ''I only speak the truth without reservation,'' she added, taking a sip of wine. She savored her beverage for some seconds before speaking up again: ''But to answer your question, Leo, I knew I liked Donnie when everything felt comfortable. I mean … whatever I would say or do, I knew it wouldn't mind him. … His presence is like a never-ending warm hug around me. I feel true, I feel seen...'' Her eyes got back to him. ''And if you feel like you can be your true self around Mikasa, then I say that it's worth a shot.'' ''I'll take your word for it,'' replied Leo, smiling and slightly lifting his glass in cheer. *** Hours later and Donnie couldn't be any more glad to be back home. Patrol had been pretty boring and tame tonight, but at least he got to spend some time with Raph, which was never a bad thing, at times. Hanging his gear for the night, he then proceeded to his workstation, only to frown a little once he spotted a sheet of paper with some sort of layout draw on it.

By the looks of it, it seemed to be an apartment, the gears of his mind running as he also recognized Vee's handwriting. ''Bro!'' His attention snapped, suddenly realizing that he had been deep in thoughts. He turned to the source of his calling, then noticing Mikey with a big smile on his face. Donnie didn't have time to say anything that his brother spoke again: ''I have the immense pleasure to present to you the world-premiere revelation of Vee 2.0.'' He did some theatrical gestures before bowing and backing out of view in a comical way, finally giving view to Vee who had been hiding behind him. The purple clad turtle's eyes grew wide as soon as he noticed the artist's new hair color. Teal. A lush dark green color that reflected so well when exposed to any lights. ''Whoa! That's so cool!'' blurted the tall terrapin, already approaching the artist. One of his hands was still holding the paper, but his other one couldn't stay put, gently taking some strands of Vee's hair and having a closer look at the color. He couldn't erase his grin, his eyes scanning every inches. ''You should thank Mikey, he's the one who did most of the work,'' informed the woman. The tall terrapin did throw a glance towards his brother who was still nearby: ''No wonder it's perfect. There's always a positive outcome to any of his projects.'' ''Aww, thanks bro!'' added the orange clad mutant, somehow surprised, yet glad to hear such compliment. ''So … you like it?'' asked Vee with a timid smile. ''Like it? I love it!'' answered Donnie, his gaze meeting hers. ''It really suits you. … Any specific reason for that change, though?'' The woman had noticed the sheet of paper in his hand, taking it in turn and pointing the sketch she did. ''If all goes well, this little lot will be mine.'' Donnie's happiness was renewed: ''For real?!'' A simple nod from Vee was enough for him to lift her off the ground in an embrace, unable to stop himself from spinning around a little, obviously feeling overjoyed. Relief also washed over him, knowing how the whole process was stressing the artist – and himself as well, there was no lying there. ''You did it, baby,'' he gently said, loud enough for only her to hear, nuzzling her as he came to a stop while still hugging her. ''Almost, but yeah. Let's hope for the best...,'' replied Vee in the same tone, her arms gently coming around his neck. ''Get a room, you two!'' piped in Raph's tone, playful. The couple looked his way, the red clad terrapin making his way to Mikey. ''Come on, let's give these two nerds some space. Ya wouldn't want to catch their cooties.'' ''Hah! You're just jealous!'' added Donnie comically, next suddenly hurrying to his room, Vee still in his arms and now laughing. Raph was rather unimpressed, a sharp exhale of air leaving him as he glanced from the running one back to his younger brother. ''…. The day I'll be jealous of that bean pole, assume that I'm delirious or somethin' like that.'' *** It wasn't long before they were found in bed, exchanging everyday clothing for comfortable wears. Donnie was laying first, Vee next nestled in-between his legs, her back against his form. The artist was not finished, drink-wise, so she shared some more wine with the terrapin, a screen mounted to a telescopic arm brought over them so they could watch any videos they desired. It was during moments like this that Vee felt at complete peace, loved, and the happiest. The warmth that invaded her could only confirm that she was at the right place with the right person. And yet the same question kept repeating itself in her mind since her conversation with April. ''Donnie, are we compatible?'' she asked in a shy tone. The mutant slightly frowned, his gaze still on the screen. ''Define 'compatible','' he asked. ''Can we procreate?'' His body and muscles suddenly tensed. Both were now staring at eachother, not giving a damn about the video anymore, the turtle trying to find his words. ''… Uhm, well, no. I don't think so. … Wh- Why are you asking this?'' Vee shrugged: ''Well, we've been having unprotected sex and I don't take any contraceptive pills. I'm just curious.... How can you be sure that we're not?'' He sighed briefly, his thoughts running a hundred miles per hour. The video on screen was still going on, the subject suddenly a blur. But that didn't matter. ''First of all, we're not the same specie.'' ''Ok then, why can tigers and lions create ligers? Why can donkeys and horses create mules?'' ''Because to their roots, they are the same. As for us, we come from two different branches. I'm a reptile, you're a mammal; there's a huge spacing inbetween us. Plus, I'm suspecting the mutagen has something to do with it, as it mostly prevents us from contracting human diseases, amongst other things.'' Vee crossed her arms, diverting her gaze, slightly feeling uneasy as she circled her drink slowly and pensively. ''… You do make sense. … I guess I was mostly biased by the fact that you do present humanoid features.'' She felt one of Donnie's hands to her cheek, bringing back her attention on him. ''… Did you want to have a child with me?'' he asked in a hushed tone, forever soft. Vee suddenly blushed, frowning a little. ''No! I mean- uh. Based on your explanations, no. Also I'm not ready for that and it's too early in the relationship to know. I- shit, I dunno,'' she blabbered. The terrapin's smile was soft, amused by her reaction. ''Hey, don't worry, I was just asking! … I guess I'm just wondering too if you ever wanted one. If that was the case, I wouldn't want to prevent you from doing so...'' ''What? You mean you'd let me hook up with a human guy only so I can get banged up?'' questionned the woman, confused, as she sat up straight and was still looking at the other. ''Hell to the no - yuck. The whole pregnancy shebang doesn't appeal to me anyway.'' ''Adoption is also an option,'' added Donnie, matter-o-factly. ''That's pretty much this family's case!'' ''For sure, and I think it's very admirable, but raising a child is still a huge deal in itself.'' She sighed, timidly rubbing the back of her neck. ''… Sorry I brought that up, I was just curious. Ever since I spoke with April, it has been bugging me. I'm really not ready for that chapter in my life and I don't think I'll ever be, but I wanted to know your opinion on that.'' Donnie rejoined her, one of his arms snaking around her form. He was softly nuzzling the top of her head, keeping her close. ''Whatever you choose or decide, I'll always stand by your side, loving every moments – every seconds - spent with you. We build our own happiness, and that doesn't mean it has to imply a child in the future. … As long as you're happy, so am I.'' ''I know. … I do feel kinda weird for not wanting a child though,'' mumbled Vee. ''Hey,'' intervened the mutant. ''You're not weird, believe me. Having a child is not an obligation. This is your body, your choice, and I will forever respect it.'' ''Oh, you better,'' smirked the artist in return.

[avengersassemble-fics]

What is it About You?

Kylo Ren (Ben Solo) x Reader

Summary: The First Order is trying to stomp out the Resistance. Work on the Starkiller Base is non-stop everyday. Some work on the weapon itself, and others get to work on the fleets fighters and shuttles. One engineer sparks the interests of the commander himself. But why? What is it about this engineer that the Force and Commander Kylo Ren, seem so interested in?

part 01/10 “encounters”

word count 3.6k

an: lmao look don’t judge me for ANOTHER new piece. when it comes to me it comes to me. this is my first ever kylo piece so hopefully i can do him justice.

Starkiller Base was a lot of things, none of those being a place you would ever consider home. It was freezing cold, it held this unsettling feeling in it, and if you weren’t concerned about keeping your job, then you probably would have left as soon as you stepped onto the tarmac. But, this was your first major assignment post, and it wasn’t an opportunity you could pass up.

You didn’t work on anything too important. Did you know what they were building? No not exactly, just that it was a weapon. Your main concern was making sure that the TIE fighters and transports that came from battle or missions were back to pristine condition. Some days you pulled in a 6 hour shift, while others you felt like you could see the sun peaking over the horizon. Those days were the ones you dreaded the most. Why?

Because the only reason you had those days was when Commander Kylo Ren returned, and his command shuttle was in complete disarray. And today was one of those days.

You reveled in freedom when it and its owner weren’t on the base. Every time you were informed of a departure check being needed, you felt the happiness flow back into your life. That is how much you hated that shuttle, and though you wouldn’t admit that to anyone, that is how much you hated Commander Ren as well. It made you feel like your work and time meant absolutely nothing to that man.

Well you knew it didn’t. How could someone like that care about anyone’s feelings? That’s probably the reason why you felt yourself dragging your feet as you made your way to the incoming bay. The only thing that you looked forward to at that moment was seeing your friend who hopefully had brought you a cup of coffee. Besides the tiredness felt in your eyes, your body craved that warmth.

Being an engineer is one thing, but being a female engineer felt like you were an animal on display in a cage. No, you didn’t get to wear pants like the men engineers, you had to wear a grey dress. The only thing you could add to keep your body warm (on a snow planet!) was a black turtleneck sweater underneath, and not so relatively thick black stockings. Everyday. Five days a week.

You hated the cold.

The bay doors opened to your presence and the cold air hit your body. You shivered, seeing your friend in the distance on a terminal, and thank the stars you could see not one but TWO steaming cups. You wanted to skip with joy. You made your way over, your steps echoing in the air, and your friend turned, shoving your cup towards you.

“Here, grumpy,” her sweet voice said, and you smiled, “I knew if I didn’t bring you one you’d be a raging bitch all day.”

“Your words hurt me,” you said sarcastically, but none the less you took the cup and bumped her shoulder, “but my love for you outweighs it all.”

“Shut up,” she said and you chuckled, taking a sip as you looked over her shoulder, “your transport is 30 minutes out.”

“Great,” you mumbled, taking yet another sip before putting the cup down, “can’t wait to see what’s happened to it this time.”

Reina Duune. She was one of the only other female engineers on the base (there was only 6 total), and she was your best friend. You both went to the same school, and befriended one another when you got into a fight with one of the boys who tried to put his hand up your skirt. She jumped in to defend you as well, and you both got suspended for a week. The boy? He got off scot free. To this day it made your blood boil, because it just showed that the men were seen as more important than the women.

Reina was beautiful. She made the room stop, turn, and look at her beauty when she’d enter rooms. You noticed, but she never did. Did she overshadow you? Yes, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t like being stared at by strangers. You were attractive you would say, you did garner some attention but not on the level Reina did, but then again you weren’t too upset about that.

“Don’t worry about the other fighters coming in today, I’ll finish with those while you do the shuttle,�� she told you and you gasped playfully putting a hand on your heart.

“You do love me back, I always knew it,” you laughed and she followed, rolling her eyes.

“Okay joker go do your work,” she commented and you gave her pouty lips as you backed away holding your coffee.

25 minutes.

You spun around and walked over the farthest terminal in the bay. The Command Shuttle always landed here, and you needed to prepare the area for its arrival. Not only did you have to put up with Commander Ren today, but because he travelled on his own that meant General Hux was going to be here soon to greet him as well. You know how it sounds, oh you don’t like Ren and Hux? Is it because they’re men in power? No of course not. You didn’t care who had power. Hell, you didn’t like Captain Phasma either. They’re all just assholes.

20 minutes.

The area was spotless, that’s how you always left it. But there were a few crates tossed down from somewhere and you groaned as you set the warm cup of your drink. You walked over to one of the crates and tried to get it to open to no avail. You squinted, trying to read the wordings on the side, but the faded letters told you nothing. You mumbled to yourself and you shoved it barely an inch. It was heavy, whatever inside weighed it down to where you could barely push it. You tried pushing it with your hips when someone jogged up behind you.

“Here, let me help you with that,” the deeper voice said, and you turned to look at the source. He was dressed in white Stormtrooper armour, but no helmet. You recognized him, but could never remember his number. Just that it started with FN. He got on your side, and you both pushed the crate to the wall.

“Thank you,” you breathed, and moved to the second crate, and he followed your lead, both of you putting your hands on the edge to push.

“Yeah of course,” he said before you both pushed hard against the crate to the wall next to the other one.

“Wonder what the hell is in these things,” you commented, feeling the heat build in your face.

15 minutes.

“No clue,” the Stormtrooper said, and you both moved to the last one, “probably not that important if it’s just left around.”

You both pushed hard on the third on, it sliding across the ground slow, “Yeah,” you grunted, “but we’re the ones having to move them.”

With one final push from you both, it went against the wall like the others. You both had to catch your breath, and you wiped your hands together to try and rub the redness out of them. His hands went to his hips and you could see a trickle of sweat down the side of his cheek. You motioned your head to him.

10 minutes.

“Are you leaving on a mission?” You asked him and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “there’s word of Resistance activity on Jakku, we leave in a few days. Captain Pasma wanted additional training before we embarked.”

“And here I thought you wore that for fun,” you joked, and you earned a chuckle from him.

“I would trade this heavy and hot armour for rags any day,” and you smiled and shook your head, you nodded at you, “what’s your name?”

“(Y/N),” you replied, not bothering with your last name, but he extended his hand and you shook it.

“FN-2187,” he replied and you nodded. It was weird to you that they didn’t use their names. Or maybe they just didn’t remember them.

“I’m terrible as it is with names, let alone call numbers, maybe I’ll just call you Finn for short,” you commented, there seemed to be a spark in his eyes and before he could reply, you nodded behind him, “you may want to get back to your squad.”

The trooper, Finn you’d call him, turned to look behind him and noticed Captain Phasma and General Hux entering. You straightened yourself as did he, and he backed up from your presence.

“Thanks (Y/N),” he commented and you smiled waving a bit as his back turned to you and went back to join his squad. You fixed your hair and went to the terminal, pressing a few keys and standing tall as General Hux made his way over. Clean workspace, happy General, that’s all he cared about. You heard a call come in in your ear, from the pilot on the shuttle. They were inbound, and you nodded to yourself.

General Hux was finally near you, along with one of his guards (another Stormtrooper), and he stationed himself away from where you were.

“Any word from the shuttle?” He asked you. No greeting, no acknowledgement to your presence, nothing. God, you hated him.

“Yes, sir, the pilot says they’ve exited hyperspace, should be any moment now,” you replied. Just because you hated the man didn’t mean you weren’t respectful to him. It just made your life easier.

“Begin the landing procedure, then,” he said and you nodded your head. You pressed a few keys and the bay door began to open. It cracked open slowly but the cold air hit everyone quickly. Wind whipped at your face and pushed your hair back and you had to clench your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering.

You could see the shuttle in the distance, and General Hux made a comment to his guard, not so much to you, “If the commander is not piloting then that is not a good sign.”

You wanted to groan and roll your eyes. Of course it’s not a good sign, when is it ever? You hoped the damage wasn’t too extensive. But you just stood there and laced your fingers in front of you. The shuttle finally neared, and you could hear the engines slow as it pulled into the bay. As it did, it pushed more wind into your bodies, but you held your ground fine.

You looked over the body of the shuttle, not seeing much damage on the outside. It needed some cleaning maybe, and you would have to check the engines and make sure it was still in near perfect condition. The shuttle landing gear extended out, and touched the ground, and the ramp almost immediately began to lower. You straighten your posture and stare straight ahead, while the engines died in a buzz. The first to exit were the troopers who had gone with the commander, and they stood at your side as Commander Ren stepped down the ramp.

He was tall and dark, covered completely in black robes, and his presence would undoubtedly scare the average person. But not you. You had managed this whole time flying under his radar, you paid him not attention. The only time you really thought about him was when a few of the others would speculate who or what exactly was under that helmet. All you cared about was the fact you could see his fists tightened into a ball, and his posture looked angry. Hux and him spoke momentarily before they both walked off with one another.

The troopers beside you began to follow, one turning to face you as you relaxed your stance, “Just a fair warning, it’s not pretty in there.” Before you could say your thanks, you closed your eyes for a moment.

Great, this was great. Just what you wanted to hear.

You grabbed a pad from the terminal and began to walk the perimeter of the shuttle. Not too much outer damage, it was almost in the same perfect condition as it left. Maybe a couple scratches, easy to buff out, and you typed on the pad your findings. You stepped towards the ramp that led inside and took a breath to prepare yourself. Time to see what exactly the condition looked like in here.

You stepped aboard and nearly gapped. There were slashes down a side of the wall, still sputtering electrical shocks as you stood there gawking. Oh you knew what that damage was. Fucking lightsaber marks. You set your pad down on the piloting console, and walked over to the wall.

What. The. Fuck. What the fuck was this guys problem? Was he really that inconsiderate that he literally fucking ripped through metal? For what! What makes someone do that?

You felt lightheaded, it was sudden and you had to hold onto the torn apart wall to hold yourself up. Your vision went fuzzy, and you blinked to try and see clear again. You heard footsteps coming your way, and you shook your head to compose yourself, and grabbed your data pad to begin ordering repairs for this..damage.

The presence stomped up the ramp, and you knew exactly who it was by the sound of it. You closed your eyes and fought back the groan you wanted so badly to let out. Fucking great.

“Is something wrong, officer,” the voice said. The filter in the helmet gave nothing away, but you could tell the tone of voice was irritated. You took a deep breath in and spun around, holding the data pad against your chest.

“Commander Ren, I’m just performing the post-flight-”

“I didn’t ask you that,” he cut you off and took a step forward to you. He was taller and bigger than you in stature, but you didn’t back off, “I asked if something was wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” you replied, looking up to meet his gaze. Out of the corner of your eye you could see his fist tighten. He looked you over quietly and you didn’t like that. But you didn’t avert your eyes. Look then, you wanted to say. Take a fucking picture too if you want.

What was wrong with you today.

“I would watch your tone, officer,” he commented, and that made you raise a brow, “you should feel nothing but gratefulness for the opportunity you have with the First Order.”

What did that mean. What? Tone of voice?

“Yes, sir,” you replied. He looked you over once more, and turned to walk down the ramp. Your shoulder relaxed, and all you could think was what an opportunity it was to clean up after someone who acted like such a child.

He stopped in his tracks, and you stared at his back. Commander Ren looked over his shoulder for a moment and finally left the shuttle. You let out a breath of relief, and looked back to the wall. What a weird morning already.

The day seemed to drag on as you put in work orders for everything that was needed. You were in what you would call your office, that was shared with three other people. You sat down in a chair that was right in front of a larger terminal, easier to work on then the one in the bay, and you were busy typing away what you needed. You also couldn’t help but go over the events that had transpired that day. You shook the thoughts from your mind when the door to the room opened.

“You missed all the fun today,” your friend Reina said to you. She sat at the terminal she claimed was hers, and spun her chair to face yours, but you had to keep typing as she spoke, “I’d say there’s one hell of a Resistance pilot out there.”

“Hey if you want to switch, be my guest and you can finish all these work orders,” you threw back at her.

“That bad?”

“That bad,” you replied and shrugged your shoulders, “just because you have a lightsaber doesn’t mean you should just use it to trash your own shuttle. Especially when someone else had to clean up the mess.”

Reina shook her head, “Yes but they don't care about that. They know someone is going to fix it so it doesn’t matter what they do.”

You sighed, finishing the last work order you had to punch in. 22 requests needed within the next day. It was going to be a long 48 hours for you and the team who’d be assigned to assist you. You spun your chair to meet Reina’s face.

“I didn’t think when I joined the First Order I’d just wind up being someone’s maintenance bitch,” you commented and she gave you a sad smile, “it just doesn’t feel like my work is that important.”

“But it is,” she replied, “hell without you no one could fix that thing. Even I don’t know how the ins and outs of it, but as someone who helped develop its plans-”

“But no one knows I helped develop the shuttle plans. That’s the problem, they’re long gone with promotions and making twice as much as I do.”

Reina extended her hand for you to take, and you did, and she clasped her other hand over it, “You’re going to get the recognition you deserve one day. It sucks it’s not now, but it’ll happen. Too damn smart for it not to.”

Reina always knew how to help you feel better. You gave her a sad smile and off you two went to get some kind of food into your systems.

2300 hours.

You had finally made it back to your room. It was decently sized, you couldn’t really complain. But the metal walls, metal bed that held your mattress (if you could call it that), no decorations, and a bathroom with a decent refresher. You reached behind your back to unzip your uniform, struggling to reach the zipper. You stopped when there was a beep at your door. You sighed, and walked back over, and instead undid your hair that was in a ponytail all day, letting your hair relax. You didn’t know who it was, but you ruffled your hair as you pressed a button near the door and allowed it to open.

Were you expecting Commander Ren to be there? No. Absolutely not, and you could not hide your surprise.

“Commander Ren-”

He walked into your room without paying you any mind. You stood at the door for a moment and blinked trying to comprehend what the fuck was going on.

“Please, come in,” you muttered and turned to face him. The door to your room shut, and almost immediately, Commander Ren’s hand extended out, and there was a grip around your neck. You gasped, the air exhaling your body as you struggled to breathe.

“Your thoughts are too loud,” he said, taking a step forward, his hand pinched like it was around your throat.

“What do you mean,” you tried to manage but it didn’t really come out that audible. But he heard you.

“Don’t play stupid, (Y/L/N),” you shook your head, almost feeling like your eyes were going to flutter close, and right then he released his grip on you and you gasped for air.

“Every thought since I’ve returned, I could hear each one,” he said, and you rubbed your throat, “your attitude towards me are the loudest thoughts you have.”

“You just fucking choked me,” you shook your head, “I don’t even know what you’re going on about!”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he warned you, and you stood straight, “you incompetence annoys me.”

“My incomp-” you stopped yourself from continuing this charade, “y’know what? Please get out.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?!”

He took another step forward, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. Kylo Ren towered over you once again that day, you would lie if you didn’t say he made you nervous.

“I’m making you nervous,” he said and you blinked at him. Stop doing that!

“What is it about you,” he said again, and looked over you, “why is the Force connecting us like this.”

“Please leave,” you asked again. You didn’t know if his eyes were locked with yours, but he moved around you and to your door. Without saying a word, you relaxed, and rubbed your shoulder. What the fuck was that? You forcefully reached around your back and barely reached the zipper on your uniform, and pulled it down, and let your clothes hit the floor. You walked to your bathroom that held the refresher in it and continued to strip down, desperately needing a shower. Anything to get today’s grime off of you.

You turned the refresher on and stepped into the warm water. You didn’t know what Commander Ren meant, by any of it, but you tried not to think too much about it. Since he could (apparently) hear what you were thinking. You cleared your mind as you washed your body down. You stayed in there until the water started to turn cold, and you turned it off and carefully exited, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself.

The only thought in your head right now was getting into bed and getting some rest for tomorrow.

[clonemando]

for requests. i like jango and boba a lot if you could do some slice of life with them

I had so many fun ideas for this ranging from Boba taking a joyride in the Slave One to Boba adopting a tooka but I settled on the most angsty one in the end. Boba having an allergic reaction to some food Jango made and the emotions stirred up by it. I hope you enjoy! Feel free to request more stuff too. I love getting requests.

There were three things in the universe that Jango Fett cared about. One was his reputation. He was honorable and fair. He always kept his word and never backed out of a deal. He always completed his mission. Second was his ship. The Slave One was his home and an extension of himself and his armor. He kept it in perfect running order and spared no expense in making sure it was always fueled and armed. That ship had saved his life on several occasions and he had a feeling it would do so many more times as well. The last was his son. Just because he was the last on the list didn't mean he was less important. Jango would give up his name and his ship and every credit he owned for Boba. Nothing mattered more to him than his son. However he wanted his name and his ship to be there for Boba when the day came that he couldn't. The reputation he built would help keep Boba safe and give him the opportunities he needed to survive and his ship would protect his son like it had protected him. He still hoped that day was far away. However, no matter how precious and important his son was to him, it didn't mean Jango knew what the heck he was doing.

"Boba no!" He yelped as the little gremlin made to jump off the top of the shelves in their kitchen.

"Boba lek!" Boba countered and jumped and Jango barely caught him before his son would have hit the ground.

"What are you doing?!" He groaned lifting the giggling toddler into his arms.

"I wanna fly like the aiwhas! Can you teach me buir?! Please! You can do anything!" Boba said brightly. Jango's frustration melted under the huge brown eyes that were reflecting nothing but childish innocence and love back at him. He swore he heard Jaster laughing at him from where he was marching on.

"People can not fly like aiwhas Boba." He said setting his son on the counter and starting to make some caff since he was fully awake now. Did every buir have to wake up at 5am to stop their child from diving into durasteel floors? Or was that just him?

"But... But... You fly buir! I saw you!" Boba pouted and Jango booped his nose to stop the incoming tears.

"I use a jetpack Boba, which you are still too small to use. It'd burn your feet right off. When you're older, after your Verd'goten, I will teach you how to use one. I promise." He said and Boba took a moment to think before deciding that was a fair deal much to Jango's relief.

"I can't wait to be big enough for my Ver- Verd- Ver-"

"Verd'goten,"

"Yeah! That! I want to be a warrior just like you dad!" He said brightly.

"You'll be even better than me one day Boba. But let's not rush things. I like my little Bob'ika just how he is." Jango said bumping their foreheads together gently as he finished making his caff and then started on first meal for both of them. Boba continued to chatter about everything he was going to do when he grew up and Jango half listened while he cooked making sure to keep note of the important things Boba mentioned but tuning out the rambling bits.

He helped Boba down from the counter and up into his seat at the table before bringing both their bowls of mashed fruit in a sort of milk porridge. He sprinkled some Mandalorian spices on his and dug in while watching Boba eat his without the extra spice. He hadn't made this for Boba yet and he wanted to see if his son liked it so he knew if he should get more or not. The grains used were the same ones his family used to grow on their farm on Concord Dawn so the meal was a little special to him.

"Mmmmm this is good buir! It's warm." Boba said smiling at him and Jango returned the smile easily about to explain the significance when Boba interrupted.

"It's a little spicy though. Next time can I have less spice?" Boba asked and Jango frowned.

"I didn't add any spice to your Bob'ika. It shouldn't be spicy at all." He told him but pulled Boba's bowl closer to look inside and make sure he hadn't accidentally added anything to it that would cause it to taste spicy.

"It makes my tongue feel all tingly and hurts my throat though." Boba whined and Jango's eyes widened just a little bit pulling the bowl away completely when he noticed Boba's face was swelling up. For a single moment he was too panicked to think clearly before he remembered what he needed to do and grabbed the epi-pen from a nearby drawer and returned stabbing it into Boba's thigh and then alerting the Kaminoans for help as he stroked Boba's hair gently to soothe him since Boba was scared now.

"It's an allergic reaction Boba. You'll be okay. That's why we keep these. I get then with some foods too." He explained keeping his voice level despite his own fear. Boba was his clone, why the hell was he allergic to something like this that Jango had been eating just fine? He would slaughter those pathetic Kaminoans if they lied to him and did something to his son.

"Jango? Boba is okay now. We believe this allergy is due to his upbringing. You were born and raised on Concord Dawn where the grain is found and were exposed to it's pollen and ate it often growing up. However, Boba's lack of exposure has caused him to develop this allergy. With your permission we will do a test for all common allergens found on Concord Dawn and Kamino as well as other well traveled planets so you can be more aware of what to avoid in the future." One of the nurses said in the Kaminoan's normal relaxed tones.

Jango let out a breath and nodded. "Of course. Please do." He said and she nodded her agreement but hesitated.

"I was also told to offer you a replacement product. We added immunity to such simple issues already to the other clones. If your product is not to your liking, we are more than happy to replace it with a better version." She said and Jango felt sick over just how little they understood. Boba was his son! He didn't want a replacement.

"I have already put too much work into this one to have to replaced. I just want the tests done and I'll work with what I have." He said and she bowed her head at him.

"As you request." she agreed walking away but Jango's face fell to his hands. Boba wasn't just a clone. He was Jango's son. He was everything good in his life. He had almost lost him and those demogolka thought they could just replace him like one of the meat droids they were making? Boba was different. He was special. He wasn't replaceable.

A small voice inside Jango suggested that maybe none of the clones were replaceable but he shut that one up tight. Even if that was somehow true there was nothing Jango could do for them. A deal was a deal. Only Boba belonged to him. He was the only one Jango could protect and thoughts of the other clones would only break him to think about. No, they were unimportant and it was none of his business what happened to them. Boba was his and he would not let them compare him to the product they were making for the jedi.

As soon as they finished and cleared him Jango brought Boba back to their apartment and brought him to his bed where he could hold his son while Boba napped and reassure himself Boba was okay and he hadn't lost him.

"Buir?" Boba asked quietly and Jango held him a little tighter.

"What do you need Boba?" He asked in return.

"You know... if you... if you did want to replace me... they could just slow the aging on a trained clone and you could pick up from there. You don't have to be stuck with a defective product like me." He almost whispered and Jango felt like he had been shot.

"No! No, Boba, no. I could... You're... You're perfect. You are exactly what I wanted and you aren't defective at all. I'm allergic to things too. I have a prescription on the visor of my helmet to help me see better. Sometimes my back cramps up and I have trouble moving. None of that makes me less worthy of being your buir does it?" He asked waiting for Boba to shake his head before continuing.

"Boba you are one of a kind. You aren't just a smaller version if me. You are my son. You're unique and those differences are part of what I love about you." He said tears rolling down his face.

"Even the bad ones?" Boba asked nervously.

"Even the ones that scare me and make me want to hold you forever and never let go. I love you Boba. No other clone will ever be my Boba. Only you. Never ever doubt that. I could never replace you and I never would want to." He swore.

"I love you too Buir." Boba murmured and Jango sighed resting his cheek on his son's curls humming to him quietly until they both fell asleep.

[sofiaisqueen2004]

“I’m gonna need the suit back”-P.P *TH*

*I wrote this three years ago so sorry if it’s cringey!

Summary-Peter does something reckless that costs him his job.

Warnings-Slight Violence

*Spider-Man/ Peter Parker's POV*

I can't believe I split the boat open in half....what the HELL was going through my head. How could I be stupid enough to split the whole freaking Ferry in half with about 100 people on it! I was just trying to be like Mr.Stark. And yet it got me fired, got my suit taken away, and I lost my girlfriend...

[Long Flashback] (My bad for it being so long)

"Who's that guy on the left." I asked my A.I. that was in my suit. I looked down to a group of 3 men.

"Matt Gargon. Extensive criminal record, including homicide. Would you like me to activate instant kill?" Karen responded.

"N-no! Stop it with the instant kill already!" I yelled. I listened in on what the group of men were saying.

"White pickup truck." A guy with a denim jacket said.

Another guy with tattoos all over his neck signaled to another guy to go into where all the cars were.

"Droney, scan the ship for a white pickup truck." I signaled my spider drone.

I saw what my drone saw and smiled, "This is too perfect! They got the weapons, the buyers, and the seller all in ONE place!"

Karen interrupted me, "Incoming call from Tony Stark"

I started to panic, "No, no, no, no! Don't answer!"

Mr.Starks face popped up on my screen in my suit, "Mr.Parker. Got a sec?"

"Uhh, no i-i'm actually at s-school!" I lied.

Karen said, "No you're not!"

"Nice work in D.C kid!" Mr.Stark said.

"O-ok!" I stuttered.

"My dad never really gave me much support, and i'm just trying to break the cycle."

I interrupted him, "I'm kind of in the middle of something..."

"Don't cut me off when i'm complimenting you! Anyway, great things are about to happen," He stopped talking abruptly because of the Ferry's honk... "What was that?"

I actually started having a panic attack, "Umm, i'm at band practice..." I'm such a terrible liar.

"That's odd, Happy told me you quit band two week ago?" He stated confused.

"I gotta go!" I yelled.

'Hey...." Then I hung up on him.

"I'll take those!" I shot my web at the man who was holding a pair of keys, and brought the keys back to me. I jumped off from where I was and landed onto the floor that they were standing on.

"Hey guys, you left at the wrong time! The ferry doesn't doc until 10:30! You guys are early!" I said and they came running towards me. I shot two guys away and punched another guy in the face. He fell all the way towards the end of the boat. He was dangling off the edge of the boat. Another guy came up behind me and tried to hit me with a blue glowing glove. I dodged it and shot my web at his arm and it was stuck to a metal pole.

Two other men tried to get up but I shot them and they went flying the other way with a motorcycle. "Woah, woah, woah, not so fast! Oh sorry! Are you guys ok? My bad that was a little hard. I gotta say," Shooting my empty web cartridge out then replacing it was a full one, "The other guy was way better with that glove thingy. I'm honestly, i-i'm shocked!"

The guy with the wings came out and smirked at me, I started running towards him but before I could get to him, the FBI showed up and yelled, "FBI! GET ON THE GROUND!" A bunch of men came towards me and I put my hands up in the air yelling, "Wait, wait, wait! What do you guys mean FBI??"

Karen started to speak, "The FBI is the Federal Bureau of-"

"NO! I understand what the FBI is! But what are they doing here?" Wings popped out of a white van cut the van in half. They were metal which means it's the same winged man that I fought before! He flew towards me with a purple lowing gun in his hands.

I moved everyone out of the way without getting hit. He flew up in the air and aimed his gun towards the guy who had the blue glowing gun and set him free. He yelled, "Get to the roof. We're leaving here!" I shot my web at the guy but missed. So then I shot it to the winged man's ankle. He shot his gun everywhere on the boat making holes.

I activated my taser web that was attached to the guys gun, and he let go of it. It landed in front of me but it exploded and shot everywhere. There was a huge crack in the middle of the ferry. The guy flew away from the scene and water started bursting through the crack. Both halves of the boat started falling apart.  The cars were going everywhere and were being pushed by the water.

"OH MY GOD!!! WHAT DO I DO!!" I screamed, "Karen, show me a x-ray of the boat! And point out all the strongest points." I saw all of the poles. I got an idea. I shot my webs at every single one of them then tied them together and pulled them as close as I could to myself. So that the boat wouldn't fall apart.

It stopped moving after 5 seconds. A man started clapping but then the boat immediately started falling apart again. Then after a few minutes, the boat started getting back together again. I looked over and saw Iron Man, pushing the boat back together, "Hi Spider-Man! Band practice was it?" He said sternly and sarcastically.

He flew to the bottom floor and I followed him. He somehow glued the boat back together, "Uhh Mr.Stark! Hey Mr.Stark!" I yelled climbing to the top of the boat, "Can I do anything!? Is there anything I can do!?"

He sighed, "I think you've done enough!" He flew off...

I sat at the top of a building with my legs dangling off the ledge. I hear two suits land near me, I assumed they were Tony Stark, and Y/n Stark...

*Y/N's POV*

I saw everything that happened. I felt bad for Peter because I know my dad won't let him hear the end of it. We flew towards him. I had my own iron man suit only it was fit for my body type.

"SO previously on Peter screws the pooch, I'd tell ya to stay away from this. You have a multimillionaire suit, not so you can just sneak off anywhere and do the one thing I told you NOT to do!" My dad yelled at him.

"Dad! Cut him some slack!" I yelled at him.

"NO Y/N! I will NOT! He disobeyed me! He deserved to be punished!!!" Dad yelled back.

"Is everyone ok?" I looked towards Peter.

"No thanks to you..." Dad said.

"Dad!" I yelled.

"Y/n! If you keep on defending him I will ground you!" I stayed silent.

Peter turned around with his mask off, "No thanks to me!? Those weapons were out there and I tried to tell you about it, but you didn't listen!" My dad flew down to Peter's level, while Peter started walking closer to dad, "NONE of this would've happened if you had just listened to me!!!!" I knew Peter was on the verge of bursting out into tears.

"If you even cared, you'd actually be here..." Peter continued speaking but then stopped. My dad's suit opened revealing himself. I did the same thing too. My dad walked right up to Peter while Peter backed away...

"I did listen Kid. Who do you think called the FBI huh?" He sighed walking closer to Peter, "Did you know I was the only one who believed in you while everybody else said I was crazy to recruit a 14 year old kid!" Dad stated.

"I'm 15-" Peter said quietly.

"No-THIS IS WHERE YOU ZIP IT ALRIGHT!!!!! AND LET THE ADULT TALK!" Dad screamed in front of Peter's face, "What if somebody died tonight? Hmm? Different story right? But this time it would be on you! But If you died, I think that's on me... I don't need that on my conscious."

"Y-yes sir. I know! I-i'm sorry" He stuttered. But my dad just shook his head, "Yeah, sorry doesn't cut it."

"I-I just wanted to be like you!" My dad shook his head again, "And I just wanted you to be better..."

"DAD!! Shut the hell up!!!!! Peter is my age! He didn't know what to do because you NEVER listened to him!" I took a deep breath while my Dad glared at me, "He's too young to make these life threatening decisions. I love him ok. We've been dating secretly for a few months...so don't you dare go yelling at him and blaming him for something that could've easily been avoided if YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO HIM FOR ONCE!!!!"

"Ok so, you're grounded for the rest of your life and you're done dating Peter," He said pointing at me, "And so this is not working out, i'm gonna need the suit back."

"WHAT!?" I screamed, "You can't do that to him!!!"

"ZIP IT Y/N!!" He screamed at me. I had tears clouding my eyes now.

"Wait, for how long?" Peter asked.

"Forever" Dad responded sternly.

"No, no, no! Please, please, please! You don't understand! This is all I have! I am NOTHING without this suit!" Peter whined.

"If you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it! Ok? God I sound like my dad..." Dad said disappointedly.

"I don't have any clothes..."

"Ok we'll sort that out..."

[End of flashback]

*Peter's POV*

I walked into my apartment where my Aunt May and I live. I had my headphones in and went straight to my room...

I stopped abruptly at the door that leads to my room. I saw Y/n sitting on my bed with a bag in her hands.

"Y-y/n..." I whispered in shock. Her head shot up and instantly ran into me. She hugged me so tight I couldn't even breathe. But I hugged her back and I heard her start crying. I pulled back and wiped her tears away with the pad of my thumb.

"Hey don't cry! I'm right here..." I leaned into her and kissed her soft lips. She kissed back putting her hands on my neck. I pulled back and she smiled at me and I smiled back.

"I came here because I convinced my dad to give this back to you..." She handed me the bag. I opened it and found my Spider-Man suit in it.

"No... freaking...WAY!!! Oh my gosh Y/n thank you so much!!!" I yelled. She chuckled and pecked my lips, "And we can be back together now!" I grabbed her and spun her around in the air. She giggled and said, "Can't wait to be your girlfriend again!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way..." She smiles at me then I kiss her again.

----

Word Count: 1,887

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Arranged {4}

Yahya Abdul Mateen II x OFC Nyorie Kane

Warning: Mild Cursing. Plot

Words: 2.7k

Summary: Yahya is thirty-three, and his friends and family all seem to believe that it is long overdue for him to have a wife. He’s been set up more times than he can count and with his busy schedule and rising Hollywood star, it is becoming even more difficult to meet people, well people who aren’t looking for a come up. In the beginning, he said he didn’t want anything serious; his motto was “I’m was here for a good time not a long time.” Then it became he didn’t want anything that would distract him from where he wanted to go and what he wanted to accomplish. Now that his fame is rising and he’s approaching a sweet spot in his career he decides what the hell the time might be right.

In comes “A Match”, an exclusive matchmaking company run by his best friend Ramel’s wife Tamika. He gives Tamika and Ramel free rein and all his trust to find him, someone, he’d mesh well with. Instead of going through her clientele Tamika has just the right woman in mind, her best friend, Nyorie. Things are done a little unorthodox at “A Match” though. This unconventional route is credited for a near-perfect success rate.

Note: I’ve only tagged those who have expressed to be on a forever tag list. 

***None of the images are my own***

**Loosely Proofread/Edited**

**Interactive**

Need To Catch Up?| Chapter one | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*

-Chapter Four-

Three days later he was staring at a stack of papers that was the contract agreement. Included in the agreement was also the usual fee for services. Tameka was making bank especially if this was the standard fee for every client. Among the papers was an extensive explanation of what she did, what she didn’t do, how she did what she did and what was expected. There was a code of conduct as well as termination policies. Inside the welcome packet there he found all the information about the different stages and the steps in each stage. This was very detailed and when he assessed it all, it wasn’t a completely illogical way to approach dating.

 Yes, it was absolutely nuts to agree to marry someone without seeing them, but the saying love is blind was coined for a reason. No, it probably was never meant to be taken so literal, but the truth was the same. Love was blind, love should be found and established with the purest cornerstones. His only hang-up was if this was something that was logical for him and who he was now. He wasn’t some local baker, or a teacher or even a city planner anymore. He was an actor. Now most places he went, he was recognized, approached and watched.

 Yeah he could go incognito eighty percent of the time and he was glad for it but he’d come to accept the luxuries of life before were not his luxuries now. He’d traded privacy for paparazzi, and traded clipboards for scripts. He still hadn’t gotten over the differences in his life from a year ago to today.

 The more he flipped through the papers and read them over carefully he thought more and more about what the road would look like moving forward with this. He thought about the kind of connection he would want with a woman and the likelihood of finding it like this. He went up and down and around it for what felt like hours. He talked himself into it ten times and out of it ten times. He’d even written a pros and cons list and had thrown it out and done it again too many times. By the time he’d come up with a decision he was fed up with thinking about it. He knew it was the fear of the unknown at this point. The only thing that was in his head at this point was doing the damn thing. So that’s what he told himself as he tapped out a text to Tameka.

 MSG: Let’s do it Meeka. Let’s do the damn thing!

 He shook his head and tried to shake off how ridiculous he felt. He knew he was ready for it, but he just had to get out of his head with it and allow whatever was meant for him to freely come.

 MSG Tameka: All right then. Fill out the paperwork, bring it back, fax it, courier whatever you choose. Once that’s processed we’ll start your screenings. Be mindful we’re going to be digging deep into your personality. Truthful answers are the only answers acceptable, especially if you want success.

MSG: Got it. Thank you Meeka.

MSG Tameka: You’re like my brother Ya. Anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.

 He’d known Tameka for over ten years. They were similar. In the beginning stages of Ramel’s relationship, he took it upon himself to get to know her to be sure she was right for his best friend. It didn’t take him long to be convinced she would be a good fit for Ramel. Since then they’d gotten closer and she really had turned into someone he considered a sister.

 He sat there in his living room filling out the first page of information.

 “Name; Yahya Abdul Mateen II. Nicknames; Ya, Hya. Date of Birth; July 15, 1986. Gender; grade A man baby. Family; mother and one brother, four sisters. Ethnicity and Race; Black and Proud. Height; six-three. Religion; Muslim. Gender you are seeking; female. Marital Status; Single. Income.” 

It was there he first paused as he tried to think of a response. Was he supposed to put his current net worth, what he had in the bank, what he was averaging per movie? He was probably thinking about too deeply, but he didn’t know what to put, so he put something basic and carried on.

 “Comfortable.” As he got to the second page it got a little more personal. There was a question asking about his family history then another inquiring about his blood type. After that, it went into physical illnesses or mental illnesses. When he saw the big leap from there to asking about communicable diseases he blinked because it wasn’t even page six and already things were getting real.

 He spent the next forty minutes or so answering the second, third and fourth pages that asked everything from STDs to medications currently taking. It was pretty detailed which he understood. These were important questions to know before matching someone. He zoomed through the questions about the reason for his decision for matching, and what his expectations were. He’d set the bar pretty low. He wasn’t sure what to expect so he decided to expect nothing spectacular. You can’t be disappointed if you never really set your hopes up, right?

By page six the real hard-hitting questions began. “What are you looking for in an ideal match?” He thought it would be a difficult question, thought he would have no idea what to write but that wasn’t the case. He found himself writing away. 

“A woman who is down to earth, funny, honest and smart. A woman who knows what she wants from life and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. a woman who is caring, understanding, passionate, supportive, ambitious. Someone who is silly and has a silly sense of humor and doesn’t take themselves seriously. Confidence is major for me, someone who loves music as much as I do, has a great attitude, positive, classy but definitely kinda hood.”

 He reread it and nodded his approval and continued.

 “What’s your type?” A wide smile spread across his face because he knew his type. He’d imagined her several times over the months. “Curvy and thick in all the right places, meat on the bones, beautiful lips, expressive eyes, nice smile, shorter than me, fashionable, black and proud in everything that means.”

 Thinking about his ideal woman and had him thinking what if Tameka actually pulled it off and found someone that was just right. What if in a few weeks his ass found a wife and not just another ex. That tripped him up and had him stepping away from the paperwork for a few minutes to collect himself and his thoughts with a glass of Henny. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready, or he was reluctant for change, it was the reality of a possibility.

 When he returned to the papers he earnestly answered the remainder of the questions that ranged from a full six pages about him and his dreams, wants, desires and another six pages about his ideal mate and what he would want her dreams, wants and desires to be. When he was finally finished it was almost three in the morning and he was exhausted. He’d felt like he’d done a mental marathon. There were questions in this packet he hadn’t thought about in years and at all. he took that as a good sign. The more in-depth the questions the better the outcome, right?

  ~~~~~~~~~

A day later he was sitting in an office with a couple Tameka introduced as Dr. Rachel Abramson and Dr. Martin Abramson. They were in charge of mental and emotional screening and preparedness. His first impression was that he would sit in a comfy chair and discuss his thoughts and feelings about beginning the process. For the first hour that is exactly what happened. They had him begin and assured him now was the time to get all his questions out. So, since they wanted him to ask questions he did.

 “Are the two of you really that good to have so many success stories? There has to be one story of complete failure.”

 The two of them looked at each other and then back to him before they busted out laughing. After a few moments, they finished and Martin spoke first.

 “Tameka said you’d be a little apprehensive about the process.”

 “She sure wasn’t lying,” Rachel added.

 “Ha-ha-ha, very funny. You can’t blame me, can you? This is pretty peculiar.”

 “Okay here’s the thing. On a scale of normal and insane, this is insane when you think of it from a societal norm perspective. We’ve all been taught and conditioned that we have to do things one way in order to find the love and happiness we want and deserve. So we go our entire lives on this hamster wheel trying it over and over and over no matter how many times we fail. No matter how many times we don’t find that love or happiness we want but heartache or loneliness. At what point do you change your perspective? At what point do you start to wonder what are societal norms doing for me? Here we’re changing up the norms. There is no reason why a different approach cannot work,” Rachel finished.

 “We’re doing a different approach for the same goal. The only difference is our approach actually works and it continues to work. We’re that good at what we do because of the process and the screenings, these chats. We now know you want to be a believer, but you have to be shown the way. That will go into your profile and into the decision for those we cross with you for a match,” Martin explained.

 Taking a few moments for their words to register he nodded then shrugged. “All right. I’m here. Let’s do it.”

 That was when they began to dig deeper pulling him to talk about his entire life story, relieve every decision he’d ever made, every experience. He thought about things he hadn’t thought about in years. They had a way of bringing deeper meaning to his experiences, his struggles. They gave him worst-case scenarios and stressful situations, questioned his decisions in relationships and life. They dissected everything and the whole time they wrote note after note and exchanged look after look. After another two hours, he realized just how deep this process got. He felt like he’d just gone through the most extensive counseling session he’d ever had.

 “How do you feel?” Tameka studied him with a slight “yikes” face.

 “Damn that was intense.”

 “Yeah, Rachel and Martin really get in there and tear you apart and put you under a microscope then put you back together. Usually, everyone who sees them says they feel refreshed leaving.”

 “Refreshed? Meeka I feel like I just got a soul cavity search.” She laughed and shook her head.

 “Boy, you so stupid. Seriously, it’s all right. It’s like this for everyone,” she assured.

 “Are all screenings like this?”

 “I wouldn’t say that. This one usually puts everyone through a wringer, you’re facing a lot of things, it makes you doubt yourself; it’s supposed to. It’s part of the process. The worst is behind you. You have three more screenings and then we’ll move on to the fun stuff.”

 “What exactly is the fun stuff?”

 Tameka smiled widely and zipped her lips. He didn’t have a good feeling about whatever it was she was talking about.

 Sure enough, four days later he’d felt like he’d actually gone through the wringer. He’d completed the following screenings that focused on his potential mate love languages and expectations, and sexual expectations and intelligence. It was definitely an intricate process. From what he could tell those he’d dealt with really knew what they were doing.

 After a quick trip to New York for work and a trip with his brother and sister to Vegas for some downtime, gambling and silliness he felt refreshed. 

Today he dribbled the ball around the court with Ramel and crew he tried to keep his mind off of things. Tameka said they would go through his responses and screenings and put together a complete assessment that they would then use to go through their database of potential women he would mesh well with. He knew the processes couldn’t be rushed but he was getting a little anxious after three days and no notification on the status.

 He was a little off his game and Rashawn was taking advantage of that. He stole the ball and dropped a perfect fadeaway bucket. He stood there shaking his head.

 “What the hell has got your mind so outta the game you let Rashawn of all people steal your ball?”

 They laughed at him together and he had to admit he deserved it. He walked to the sideline and dropped onto one of the bleachers. His boys sat around him taking sips of their water.

 “Is this about this matchmaking?”

 Rashawn and Tyrell both sounded off. “Hold up, matchmaking? Are you getting set up?”

 Dropping his head back he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want them all to know in case it didn’t work out and he was in fact unmatchable.

 “Yeah, I was trying something different, thought why not.”

 “Okay. We didn’t even know you wanted someone. Why you ain’t say something?”

 He shrugged and rolled his head around. “No reason.”

 “So that’s why your jump shot is shit and your ball handling is even worse,” Tyrell chided. He laughed at the insult to injury, he was already feeling like crap.

 “Man kick me while I’m down. Great.”

 “Leave him alone. Tameka’s process is tough. In the early days when she was giving me the run down, she blew my mind with how detailed everything is,” Ramel defended.

 “Right. Damn, I had no idea. After four days I felt like she’d unlocked a whole nother level to my personality I didn’t even know I had.” They all laughed but he wasn’t joking. He was woke before but now he was third eye woke.

 “So you’re waiting for results now?”

 “I’m waiting for them to finish analyzing my assessments. I think they’re screening me with potentials. I don’t even know.”

 “You ready to meet someone? I mean you could have yourself a girl in a month’s time,” Rashawn voiced.

 “He could have himself more than a girl in three months’ time,” Ramel corrected.

 “Yeah, I’m ready. The interesting thing is throughout the whole process of them analyzing me and asking me every question ever invented it had me really seeing how empty my life has been and how stuck I was. It opened my eyes to show me what I had to offer and that I was ready to offer it.”

 They all nodded fulling understanding what he meant. He was glad he wasn’t friends with men who ran from commitments and dogged out their women. He was glad he was surrounded by levelheaded mature men who sometimes acted like complete idiots behind their wives’ backs.

 “Well, I hope Tameka can work some miracle because it will have to be one hell of a woman who keeps your attention cause God knows you got that ADD,” Tyrell piped up.

 Again, they all laughed together, at his expense.

 A few more days passed with him working even more. He went on more and more auditions and his name was being kicked around quite a lot. According to his agent and manager, his name was brought up a lot for different projects. The ones that had him super excited was the fourth installment to The Matrix and a Candyman remake. He grew up on Candyman and damn near tripped down the steps when he’d read the email about it.

 The days passed quickly, and he traveled between NY, Miami and LA all for auditions, meetings, interviews, and photoshoots. he was busy but in the back of his mind, he wondered where he was in the process with A Match. The longer he went without hearing something, the more he worried that he was unmatchable.

 As he was pulling into LAX from his recent trip to London Tameka’s message caught him off guard.

 MSG Tameka: Great news. When can you come in?

 His nerves went into high gear as one thing repeated in his head.

 “So it begins.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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[hillarykylie]

How I Started My Business at 19, With Over 1130 Clients and More

So I’ve decided to start this thread and share a little more about my entrepreneurial journey, as I thought it’d be easier for people to refer to them since I’ve been getting a high volume of DMs ✨💖

I started my business at the age of 19, back in late 2020 during lockdown, and when I was still preparing to head into my second year of Uni.

I’m not a fan of disclosing how much I earn, so please respect that! I like to remain humble and I don’t need people sending me evil eye or bad vibe$ 🦋🧿

All you need to know is that I’ve managed to pay off a bulk of my Undergrad international student tuition fees, so that gives you a good grasp of my income in less than 6 months.

Despite having a lucky start, it’s been a wholesome yet daunting and incredibly challenging journey.

I knew absolutely nothing about running a business prior to starting mine, and had zero experience in proper entrepreneurship.

I’d like to think I started my business on accident, as I genuinely had no intention to pursue it as no more than merely a side-hustle during lockdown 2020, when I felt somehow compelled to unlock my creativity and the burning desire to venture into more unconventional avenues, and partially to also evoke a sense of rebellion against my college.

I knew I had to explore the potential of my business when I started seeing a consistent surge in sales and raking in a considerable percentage of profit margin, despite the naysayers in my life convincing me otherwise.

This only occured in early 2021, when I began witnessing extensive progress with my business.

I hit a 100 sales in early November 2020, and by the middle of February 2021, I’d surpassed more than a 1000 sales, and had a fully functioning website and an overhaul in branding, and garnered over 7000 in followers on IG.

I also had to learn how to file taxes from scratch.

Those were the days when I’d thought hitting a 100 sales in a few weeks were “impressive”.

Now it’s grown to a point where I have to consider the prospect of scaling and expanding my business, and hiring people in the process.

In case you’re wondering, I’m in a relatively niche market!

So if you’re reading this thread and you’re starting a business that offers a more generalized form of commodity, or operating in a highly saturated market and industry with a high level of competition, take the advice that resonates and leave the rest!

I can only speak from my own experience, growth and lessons.

I’m no expert - I’m also learning as I’m growing, as it’s an everyday process.

1. Be specific with your Branding

What types of products or services do you offer?

Who is your target demographic and who do you cater to?

What values do you want your business to adopt?

What marks your business out from your competitors? - your unique selling point?

What is your tagline?

How do you make sure clients resonate with your brand?

WHY did you start your business?

What is YOUR story?

What is the vision and ultimate long-term goal of your business?

My branding actually started out rather poorly in the beginning, and I had to pause for a while and commit to a complete overhaul of my brand, image and logo, business mottos and description and what not.

My old branding was confusing, erratic and all-over-the-place, and clients were unsure of what my brand message even was.

Make it clear, concise but catchy!

Moving forward, I now have a much more refined brand image and message, which has helped me immeasurably in my business growth and garnering the right clients and contacts in the industry.

You don’t need to have this figured all out in a day - take your time to map out different ideas, and consult with what works best.

2. Research on your market and industry

How saturated is your market?

Know your competitors and how long they’ve been in the business.

Narrow down some price competitive strategies

Think about what you can offer that your competitors don’t

How do your competitors rank in search engines?

3. Be realistic with your expectations

Unless you’re one of the Jenners or Kardashians, don’t simply expect your business to gain traction overnight.

Faux business gurus who sell the overhyped notion that get rich quick schemes exist, aren’t being real with you.

The growth of your business takes time.

It can be daunting to launch your business and having to anticipate your stream of sales, your average sales rate, and gauge the pace of your growth and expansion over time.

But with consistency and the right strategies, you’ll eventually get there.

So what if you’ve only managed to sell to 20 people in your first month?

I’d only made 17 sales when I first started out.

It took me around 2 months to truly hit breakeven and cover my initial start-up costs, and eventually increase my profit margin.

Don’t sweat it! It’s great to be ambitious and enterprising, but let’s not forget that Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Be realistic and concise with your timeframes and go easy on yourself with your goals, especially when you’re just starting out!

4. Hold strong to your Vision, ALWAYS

This isn’t some cliché advice - it’s paramount.

Entrepreneurship isn’t a walk in the park, and it takes a great deal of risk, tact, courage and bravery to start a business and then sustain it with time - especially in the midst of a pandemic.

If you were raised in a culture that disapproves of entrepreneurship, or are surrounded by individuals who think they know better than you do -

Keeping your vision laser-focused and robust is of utmost importance.

Personally, I was met with unending backlash, cynicism and skepticism by the people around me when I’d first started my business.

In fact, I was mocked and relentlessly discouraged from pursuing my idea.

The responses ranged from people arguing that starting a business during a pandemic contained “high-risk”, to people virtue-signalling and claiming that I should place more focus on my education instead.

I was indoctrinated into believing that it was pointless to even embark on my business endeavour to begin with.

Take people’s opinions with a grain of salt.

Have discernment when it comes to internalizing certain advice.

Even as I was growing, others would tell me that it would never be ‘sustainable’ - but look where we are now 🙂

Keeping your vision strong would also help you with staying motivated and resilient when times do get tough.

The ebb and flow of running a business unfortunately means that there will be setbacks, plateaus, and disappointments at the end of the day.

I can’t emphasise how many times I was ready to throw in the towel and give up, during my early days or when I was met with friction with clients or business partners.

I was ready to quit and call it a day, but a part of me urged me to keep going.

This brings me to my next point.

4. Take breaks if you have to. Hustle Culture will end up demolishing you.

In the beginning, I was sold the idea that the harder I worked, the more hours I’d committed to improving and running my business, the more I’d earn.

However, this strain of thinking isn’t novel to me. The hustle culture has been ingrained in most of us growing up, especially in my experience with being in University.

I’d feel abnormally guilty for taking breaks, and would break my back just to achieve the extra mile - whether it’s with my business or school. I never knew when or how to pause. It got to a point where overworking had gradually affected my energy levels, fatigue and mental health, and my productivity drastically decreased, and hence - it became my huge wake up call.

Hustle culture is oversold in the corporate world. Yeah, it’s amazing to be a hard worker - but what’s the point if you’re compromising your mental health, energy levels and sanity for your business, or with anything in life?

As I run a niche creative business, I find myself unable to generate new creative ideas when I’m deficient in energy or when I’m completely burnt out. It also takes my ability to focus and concentrate on my tasks at hand away.

Creator burnout is very much a real phenomenon. Constant working without adequate breaks will only really annihilate you in the long run, and deprives you of the opportunity to recharge and refuel and strategize your game plan.

Strangely, I’ve also found that the more rested I am, the better my business goes, and the more I’m adept at handling ideas.

[fivegoldpieces]

Talks Machina at Gen-Con Q&A Highlights

Note: This only has the audience q&a portion. Cast answers are transcribed, side-comments and banter are only included if they are relevant to/answer the question posed. Apologies in advance to mobile-users if the read-more doesn't work - this is tagged as #long post if you want to blacklist it.

[[MORE]]

Q: For Matt; might we expect any possible homebrew releases coming out in the next year or so, like dunamancy?

Matt: I have plans. I can't say anything because I want things to be cool and surprising. But I have plans don't worry. It's not that I don't care, it's that I don't have time, but I'm working on it.

Q: For Taliesin; what would make Caduceus really angry?

Taliesin: I will say that he can get angry. It does happen. Juvenile disrespect does eventually get to him. Not a fan of pranking. I mean, you know, everybody's got some layer - there's some stuff. No one's that serene all the time. No one.

Q: For Taliesin; at the end of the Call of Cthulhu oneshot, you mentioned that you had a lot of mouse traps set up. I was just wondering, were the shadow people the most dangerous thing they could've released, or was there a more dangerous horror waiting that they managed to avoid?

Taliesin: I mean, if the cats had been released first, that would have definitely been an interesting thing. The cats would have been a problem. Also, if somebody had died really early, I was setting up a series of rules for dead players to continue to interact, which would have been really really unhappy and bad. And terrible rules for the things that were living behind the glass, and if you were stuck behind the glass, you were right there with them and they could really mess with you. Thankfully none of that happened.

Q: For Matt; you have the Tal'dorei Campaign Setting - I was wondering if you were going to do one for The Mighty Nein campaign?

Matt: I don't have a lot of time. Campaign settings are extensive. I'd like to eventually do something like that. I have materials, it's just assembling them in a way that can be legible by a non-crazy human being that I am. Hopefully! We'll see as time goes on. At the moment, we're consumed with this animated series that you guys helped make happen. Super excited about that. Keep an eye out as time goes on, because hopefully I'd like to get around to that. That'd be awesome.

Q: For Matt; what the hell was up with the undead vibe on Jamedi Cosko?

Matt: Yeah, that's crazy huh? That's a pretty weird thing. Yeah, there was something about him that gives off an undead vibe. Wonder what that means? I appreciate the question, but I don't know if that'll come back into play in some time. Let's see if it gets explored at some point, and if not at least I could tell you at the campaign wrap-up.

Q: For Travis; for the animated series, a lot of the characters have iconic catchphrases so I was wondering how you're going to translate "I would like to rage"?

Travis: Are we going to "translate" that? I think he's just going to say "I would like to rage". Yeah, we are definitely keeping iconic lines, moments, interactions, all those things will be there just as they were.

Taliesin: I'll also add to that - if you want to see somebody doing that and taking things that shouldn't actually work in-game and making them work in-game, Jody Houser is doing a great job in the comic book series of making you feel like somehow Matt is intertwined in everything that happens, it's kind of cool. Check it out!

Q: For Taliesin; a lot of comparisons have been thrown around between Fjord and Percy, and something that I noticed was Uk'otoa is being much more insistent than Orthax was - do you think if Orthax was as insistent and as keen on punishment, Percy might've gone a similar direction as Fjord?

Taliesin: Honest to God, and this is just from watching, I don't think Percy had nearly as strong a will as Fjord does. Watching Travis play Fjord was definitely like, "I did not have the balls to pull that off, oh my God." Percy was never about the hard choice, it was always about "what's the option C that I haven't figured out yet, there's a way to game my way out of this, if I just keep talking I can get everything to work" until the very end. Like chicken? Percy doesn't play chicken.

Laura (using Vex's voice): From firsthand knowledge, Percy does curtail very easily.

Matt: If you actually recall, Percy didn't even make the choice. Scanlan did for him.

Q: For Laura; when can we get a Caduceus tea set?

Laura: Oh, I heard a lot of "ooh's". Who would buy a Caduceus tea set? [audience applause] Well, shit, maybe I should look into it.

Sam: That's so many more people than who voted for me.

Brian: Not to be That Guy, lets just see how long his character lives, before we start making merchandise around him.

Q: For Sam; you are kind of the king of over-the-top and ostentatious whether it be with your character design, or your flasks, or things like that, and especially your outfits at the live events - how do you come up with these over-the-top creations and also how on earth do you plan on topping last night?

Sam: That last part will be hard. I think next year, I'll either come out totally naked or I'll just be so basic - pleated khakis, a polo shirt, I don't know. That outfit last night, it was pieced together from several different stores, I'm sure CritRoleCloset will figure it out at some point. But it was a challenge putting that together. And then, my fellow cast members, like two weeks after I bought all that weird stuff I wore, they were like, "hey let's go goth". So. Fuck you guys.

Q: For Travis; with Fjord's recent decision, do you see him changing outfits to fit his new or old persona?

Travis: I don't think so. Most of Fjord's armor was very piece-mail stuff that he got either from working on the docks, or stuff that he got from Vandren, or items that he was given just as he sort of accrued time and responsibility where he worked. I think that stuff's very dear to him, especially coming from an orphanage where he didn't have any possessions, so all those things that are actually his are very dear to him. He might add to those things, but I think underneath they'll stay there. He might augment them or change them a little bit, in the same way you would draw on your jeans in school or whatever, but that stuff's his so it means a lot to him.

Q: For Travis; after Fjord severed his pact with Uk'otoa, was there a larger fear in telling Beau and Jester what had happened, since he had been traveling with them the longest out of the Nein, or did his journeys with the Nein make that fear equal across all of the party?

Travis: I think actually he was worried about telling Beau and Jester the least, and maybe Caduceus in there as well. He knew he would hear about it from Nott, and Caleb had already sort of started to call him on his shit and saw through a lot of that stuff. He also regards the group as very powerful, so I think a lot of it is turning to his very powerful and talented friends and saying, "I don't have any of that anymore, I hope I can still play with you guys." Legit though, the response was amazing. It was absolutely incredible. Jester is so gregarious and loving and joyful and exuberant that I don't think he was worried about that, I think he was actually looking forward to telling her as one of the first people to know. And Beau is second-mate, so like ride-or-die or right?

Q: For Taliesin; I can totally be wrong for this, but just reading body language and facial features, there do seem to be moments where you're kind of just like, "I'm done with this" - I just kind of want advice, like how do you keep playing when your energy level might be low or you don't like where the story is going?

Taliesin: Oh, that is never "I'm done with this", what you're seeing is the "I'm trying to make sure no one notices that I'm reading my backstory notes". That's me reading, frantically. I'm a big believer in terror, terror is a great way to keep me up. "Oh God, I don't remember anybody's name, oh God how many siblings do I have oh God."

Marisha: Well, also you write your backstories like the Silmarillion, it's like, so intense. I'm like "my dad was mean to me" like that's my backstory.

Q: For Sam; based on the amazing reaction we've had to your DnDBeyond theme and the Critical Role theme, when can we expect a parody version of the 2010 hit "Like a G6" by Far East Movement as "Like a d6"?

Sam: Oh wow, that's good.

Marisha: Not to be that person, it already exists. The Library Bards did it. So, you should check it out. I mean, do a cover, Sam, I don't know.

Sam: There are more songs incoming, just so you know.

Q: For Matt; you say dunamancy can alter the reality and the fate of the person that wields it - is this an affront to the Raven Queen?

Matt: I would say, given the fact that elements of dunamancy deal with the manipulation of probability, destiny, things like that, the Raven Queen is probably not that cool with dunamancy. Just throwing that out there. One of the few things she's probably like, "Really, guys?" So yeah, I'd say you're on the right track.

Q: For Laura and Travis; do you talk to Ronin about your campaign?

Laura: So, Ronin, every Thursday night he stays with a babysitter at home, but he watches the opening of the show. Like, he loves the theme song so much. I sing it every time I change his diaper.

Travis: Same, like I know there's songs that parents sing to their kids - he's heard the damn theme song every day of his life.

Brian: But do you guys change the lyrics though, like "You shit your pants, I'm cleaning it up now", you know what I mean?

Liam: My kids bust into that song constantly. We cannot play a board game or anything. Someone goes "it's your turn" "TO ROLL" every time.

Q: For Marisha; I'm a huge fan of Jocks Machina and hopefully we'll get to see them on the channel one day - will Beau ever join Jocks Machina?

Marisha: What are the requirements, are there prerequisites for joining Jocks Machina? You're kind of the authority on this.

Travis: Guns. Abs. Likes to lift heavy things. Likes to break a sweat. Likes to whoop that ass.

Marisha: Check. Check. ...Check? Check. Hell yeah.

Q: For Matt; this is a rather involved conspiracy theory question, so excuse me - last year when the party was in Shady Creek Run at the Landlocked Lady Inn, they first arrived and there was a doorman named Champ who Keg knew. The next morning, they went down and there was a new doorman who said he'd been working for the Marduns for a few months and had bright red curly hair and vibrant green eyes and acted rather enigmatic and shady and shifty and was saying they should listen more and that he hoped that whatever they were after, they were on the right path. Later, once they recover everyone, Jester is asking the Traveler where he was, and he says he was always there. So my question is this: was that character the Traveler in disguise?

Matt: [several moments of silence]

Matt: That'd be pretty interesting, huh? That's a unique observation. I will confirm nor deny.

Q: For Matt; now that Fjord has effectively broken up with Uk'otoa, what do you think would be a more compelling storyline, or what are you most interested to see: him continue to take levels in warlock, possibly with an Archfey patron, or paladin...?

Matt: Part of what I really enjoy about this game is how the players continuously surprise me. I'm down to see what journey Travis wants to take. I'm curious to see how he takes this next path in his journey and which elements he wants to maintain, what direction he wants to go - he seems to be really finding interest in the Wildmother and talking to Caduceus about that, and that's kind of been an element of breaking that pact at the time, so I'm curious if he's going to continue down that path or see this as a blank slate to continue to grow. I'm interested to see the different decisions that Fjord takes, and Travis does through Fjord, and kind of adjust and build the narrative for that character around that. I can't say I have a specific path that I'm hoping for, because I have no idea what Travis's direct interest is, beyond just the actions he's taken in the game. Yeah, I'm just excited to see where it goes. I really love the idea of not knowing that as the Dungeon Master. As much as it's me building and world-planning, many of you out there who run games as GM know the most exciting part of the game is after all that prep, coming to the table and the players completely surprise you, and you kind of have to think on your feet and go with it. That's the best part of the game for me.

Q: For Marisha; what inspired you to play Beau a bit more shaken about her near-death than some of the other characters?

Marisha: Well, I was at 2 hit points the whole time - Liam can attest to that. So you know, I was kind of role-playing that. Shit's crazy man.

Q: For Liam; so you play your characters, both Vax and Caleb, very emotionally without any hesitation, and you're an experienced actor. What I wanted to ask was, something that people who try to emulate Critical Role don't realize that can happen when you try to put yourself into the character and get emotionally invested is character bleed. I was wondering how you deal with that, if you do at all. Like, if something really emotionally devastating happens to Vax or to Caleb, how does it affect you and how do you deal with it?

Liam: These feel like synthetic memories, so any time the superimposed fantasy friend gets killed or has to leave or whatever happens - that shit we carry around and get upset about. Every time we leave on a cliffhanger and someone's gonna die, we think about it constantly. Vax helped me sort through things, but made me more loyal and determined and willing to take chances - which in life I generally try to avoid conflict. Caleb, I still kind of drive around and think about him and still go, like "why did you do that?" He's really messed up, if I just think like, fireballs and cats like it's fun, and we can make dick jokes and it's fun. But if I really take a minute, I just go "Oh". I feel bad for him, I feel really bad for him. I have fun playing the game, and I love these guys, and I feel bad for my character.

Follow-up Q: Do you have ways that you learned to process that, like if you're at home feeling bummed about something that happened on a Thursday night, and you're like "man I need to get out of this funk"?

Liam: Yeah, I pull my head out of the game. I'll play a game with my kid, or watch a movie with my wife, or go running. Running is great. Not for your knees, but everything else. Or spend time with these guys out of the game. There's lots of ways. We're really invested in their stories, so it sort of drags along like coattails wherever we go.

Matt: To give you examples too, when he says "hanging out with friends", the group that's there, your friends that are in this game that you trust enough? You should all also support each other when those dark moments happen outside of the game. Whenever we lose a character in the game, we have like a wake. We go to an Irish pub that we go to often in Burbank, and we all get drinks and we have a wake for that character. And it's part of that process too. Even though it's imaginary, there's a part of that experience and journey that's come to an end and that deserves its respect as well, and we're all there to support the player. As a playing group, be there for your friends who may be going through that experience, because even though it is make-believe and it's a game, that is still a loss. And that's not a bad thing either. Loss is an important thing to process, because life comes with loss. Part of the wonderful experiences of role-playing games is that it allows us a safe space to explore very positive and very negative emotions in a healthy way and make us better people for it. So just be there for them, be supportive, and be the best friends and co-players you can be.

Liam: Part of the reason, I think, that we get upset when these fictional characters are killed is because we're playing this game of imagination together, and we form a chemistry together where we're like "we get to do this together, and it's always like this, and you're always funny like that, and you're always intense like this" and we really love that chemistry. Then somebody gets killed and they're gone, and that chemistry, which is something that we're like addicted to and love, that chemistry is gone. Like, when Molly was gone. Beau and Molly had this great "fuck you" "fuck you" butting heads thing - that's gone. We're actors, but anyone who plays this game extensively, you love the sort-of second life that you create for yourself and then when the character is gone, you don't have that unique mix anymore.

Q: For Laura; I really love how you play Vex and Jester, even though as two characters, they're pretty different from each other. But sometimes, you have an instance where like, your Laura shows. So I actually just wanted to ask, what was the biggest disconnect you've ever experienced between player versus character? If you've ever felt like, you as a person, as a player, would never ever make a choice in a situation versus what your character would do in that same situation.

Laura: I feel like everything my characters do, I wouldn't do in real life. Like, especially Jester. Travis and I have had these conversations: the joy of playing a character like Jester or like Grog, where you don't have to filter yourself - everybody, I assume, has these random really stupid things that pop up in your brain and you don't say them because everyone would judge you, and they're weird - and as these characters, you just embrace it, and it is so much fun. Talk about character bleed - it is an issue that I deal with now, because Jester has had that effect on me, and so I tend to say stupider things in real life now. No, but I would never deface anything in public, I would never steal anything.

Travis: You're not gonna attach any dicks on the walls.

Laura: I would not attach a dick to a wall in public. Or anywhere. I do eat a lot of donuts though, that's on me.

Q: For Matt; we've explored several places in the multiverse in your games, like the City of Brass, the Feywild, places like that - are there any places in the multiverse like the Astral Sea or somewhere that you, either as a player or as a GM, would have liked to have gone but have never had the time or resources to do?

Matt: Interesting. I do have some places that I really would like to explore, whether in this campaign or campaigns down the road. Astral Sea is interesting, it's a really weird amorphous plane, and I just love the prospect of one day throwing an Astral Dreadnought at these poor guys. He's my second to the Tarrasque. Oh they're fun, they're a good time. I've always loved Planescape. The City of Sigil would be great for obvious reasons of course. So I can be like, "no guys, this is where I learned my wrong pronunciation". But the City of Doors is awesome. Lady of Pain is a great element. Those who watched the Search for Bob oneshot, there was a Lady of Pain reference dropped in there. If you missed it, you can go back and look. Maybe there's a few doors in Sigil that lead to Exandria, who knows. Think about that for your home campaigns, huh? I want to go into some deep Abyssal planes too. We've been to the City of Dis, we've seen a little bit of the Nine Hells of Baator, though maybe not the harsher places. There's so many to explore!

Q: For Sam; Matt has said on Twitter that one of the ways you guys handle the pressures of the Kickstarter and the intense dramatic moments in the campaign is by checking in with each other and checking in on each other's mental health. I know you take on a lot of responsibilities with doing the DnDBeyond ads and the songs that you write and also your characters are often joking around with other characters and giving them a hard time so I was wondering, from your perspective, if you could give some details, without giving away anything too personal, on how to properly mentally check-in with your fellow players and just help everybody and check that everybody is doing okay.

Sam: Well, I'm learning from these guys, as we go, how best to do that. I'm weird in that, as weird as I am on-screen, I don't really talk very much when we're off-screen, or I keep my stuff to myself, more than some of these guys do. But they have, in the last few years, helped me sort of connect more with my best friends here. You know, we do check in a lot with each other, thanks to Matt and thanks to all of us. For instance, yesterday morning we all had breakfast together. It was really nice - we just talked about stuff, and it was just great to just sort of reconnect with everybody. I'm not an expert at this in any way, and in fact, on this stage, I am the least good at it, but I have endeavoured to become better at it. Opening yourself up to your friends and feeling comfortable enough to share your past or your worries for the future with your friends and not getting any judgement back is like, the greatest gift. If you have that with one person, it's amazing. If you have that with all of these people? Holy moly, it's the greatest thing in the world. I've tried to be better at sharing my stuff with them and being there for them. That's all I can do.

Q: For Marisha; in campaign one with Vox Machina, there's a lot of powerful badass lady NPCs, so if by chance, it all worked out timewise, who do you think Beau would be most likely to have a crush on?

Marisha: Kima. Yeah. Keyleth very much emulated Allura, and really looked up to her and kind of looked at her as a powerful female figurehead and took notes for leadership through her. Beau would just wanna fuck.

Q: For Liam; what do characters do in the campaign that you find funny no matter how old it gets?

Liam: Everybody throw in on this one. I'll never get over Laura waggling her eyebrow every third word in the game.

Taliesin: Slow snicker every time there's even vaguely a possibility of a dick joke.

Travis: I'd say every time there's a pain reaction out of Nott. It is hysterical to me.

Liam: I like any time, just the concept of death comes up or Molly - anywhere, in the game, out of the game - one of these people would be like, "Like you, you're dead!"

Laura: Uk'otoa.

Q: For Laura; do you think the volcano would be a good spot for Traveler on?

Laura (using Jester's voice): Okay here's the thing. Like, I totally did at first and I need to talk to him, because I think that now it's probably not, because it wasn't very expansive really, as big as I thought it would be, and there wasn't like a lot of beds, and like, no real good food. So, I don't know how many people are coming, but like, even just getting to the nearest hotel was really difficult, you know?

Matt: I love the idea that half of your sketchbook is Jester's tiny Yelp reviews of locations in Wildemount.

Q: For Laura; with all of the throwback to Vox Machina and Whitestone in the week before, how are you feeling with all of it?

Laura: I'm feeling very nostalgic.

Laura (using Vex's voice): Also, I would love for everyone to come visit.

Marisha (using Keyleth's voice): Me as well.

Laura (using Jester's voice): And also, if we did, I think we would cause a lot of problems.

Marisha: New pitch - Travelercon at Whitestone. We know the food is good, lots of lodging and room and board, no dead people in trees anymore.

Laura: All of the residuum that you could ever hope for.

Brian: And endless booze.

[Panel end]

[solar-bean]

This is the very extensive and detailed rant of a fed up black, female student of class 2020

-You are free to scroll past this if you want. I really just needed to get this off my chest. But if you have advice or are experiencing a similar situation, feel free to message me-

So first off, I haven't liked going to school since I was 9. And highschool has only deepened my loathing of it. But maybe I don't hate school in general. Maybe I just hate the schools I've gone to ( 4 in total ). This rant is about highschool specifically. Perhaps what I'm about to type is normal and I'm overreacting. But I'm tired of not talking about my problems because I'm worried that I'll sound like an ungrateful brat. Typing/ writing about my issues makes me feel better. And I really need to feel better.

So here are the main points in order of severity: Low income, Advisory, Graphic Arts and Discipline/Work Ethic

Low Income:

I've only ever gone to low income schools in my neighborhood. I hoped high school would be different but thanks to the crappy education of my old school and an even crappier selective enrollment test score, I couldn't get into the schools I wanted. Then again my single mother probably couldn't afford those other schools anyway.

My highschool shares a building with another highschool. And unfortunately they called dibs on the best features and have control of the heating and ac. We don't even have our own gym. We also have the least amount of space with the smallest class being mine of 144 seniors. So there's a lot of packed classrooms.

Speaking of having way too many students, recourses are slim as a result. Our best equipment, chromebooks, need to be reserved weeks in advance by the teacher and even then they still may not be able to get enough of them for their class. Said chromebooks can often be missing keys, not work at all or be stolen easily because of their small size.

A few other issues are terrible lunches ( I've been bringing lunch from home since sophmore year), very limited field trips, mice infestation, very few clubs ( if we have any idk ) and teachers have to pay for just about everything class related.

Advisory:

Advisories were created to prepare us for greek life in college. I honestly think it's to keep everyone in check but ok. Even so I have absolutely 0 interest in anything frat or sorority related ( no offense to those who do ) as well as many of my classmates but advisory is mandatory.

My first 2 years of advisory were hell. Most of my advisory sisters were either people I'd never talk to because we weren't in the same class, had nothing in common or they were straight up terrible people. I should mention that freshman year has the worst students because about 30% don't make to the next grade or just transfer. Most of my advisory sisters I had problems with were in that 30% ( a few had already repeated ).

Since I kept to myself there were very few incidents were I was put into a tense situation with them. The main conflicts involved our advisor, who I guarantee you was not the problem. She was essentially a poor, white, optimistic, young math teacher from out of town that was thrown to the slaughter. And my cowardly self watched not wanting to be next.

She ended up leaving by junior year so what was left of my advisory merged with another and got a new advisor. The only downside is that our new advisor is a firm believer in " sisterhood " and no cliques ( even if you converse easier with a certain group of people and advisory is already a forced clique in itself ). Maybe I'd be more up for advisory events , which we rarely have , if my advisory experience wasn't sullied so early on.

Graphic Arts:

The reason I chose my school was because it had an art class. In seventh grade I knew I wanted to have a career in art and that my talent was lacking but had potential. So you can imagine my horror when I learned that the art teacher had left once I'd gotten there.

I was sad but stayed positive and even highly recommended them to get another art teacher. Then by sophomore we got an art after school program ( 4:25 to 6 twice a week ). I managed to keep my grades the same and take the classes every week for the entire school year. I only missed about 4 days total. For once I actually enjoyed staying after school.

The class taught me so much and I didn't have to wait for the summer to take an art class downtown. Even better I got to interact with other young artists of my race ( there was usually only one other black kid at the summer classes ). Everything was finally looking up.

Then the art galleries happened. The school hosted one per semester. I brought my art to display but I couldn't stay cuz of a shitload of math homework. I got complimented the next day but still regretted not staying. So I vowed to attend the next one with even more pieces than before.

The night finally came and I was hyped. Me and two seniors were in charge of doing caricatures for free ( one senior gave me a dollar tho ). I had fun with that but noticed something weird...none of our art was displayed.

Apparently they cut it out for time along with the theatre clubs performance. And I would've been fine with that. If my family hadn't come.

The icing on the cake was when they turned off the lights in the hallway where we were drawing the caricatures so they could start the show for the performing art groups. I couldn't contact my family until the show was over and booooiii were they pissed. Especially my mom. I was more sad than anything. I had a feeling my school valued the performing art more and this just proved that. At least now we have an actual art class. And my art teacher is awesome and supportive as hell.

Discipline/ Work Ethic:

These are together cuz they've equally fucked me up. Don't get me wrong. I have a 4.2 gpa and 0 detentions.

The problem is my classmates.

I have been to soooo many class/school meetings about behavior and grade issues over the past 4 years. One of which a staff member said " now i know all of ain't bs-in' but why aren't those people helping the ones who are."

Like wow! Thanks. I hate it.

I'd be happy to help my fellow classmates. It's just that their version of help is cheating off my tests and copying my homework.

So yeah my bad. I've been sooo selfish.

I can count on my hand the amount of times I've been told that I'm doing a good job directly and not in front of a class as a way to embarrass them.

This year behavior was so bad that they made a competition to see which advisory would get the least demerits. Big mistake. My heart goes out to all the poor well behaved students who lost because of a few advisory mates. It only takes one. The record for most demerits in a day was 30 I think.

I forgot the competition was going on at some point cuz I've only gotten 2 demerits in 4 years. My advisory won second and we played the waiting game for our prize only to have a pizza party with 17 other advisories. The winning advisory was salty as hell. But hey we got free lunch at least.

I managed to get good grades simply by doing everything on time and having no social life. This was by choice really. I promised myself I'd do better in college but now I gotta study for ap.

It was actually ap literature that gave me a new perspective on my classmates work ethic. We were given a lengthy reading assignment but the due date was stretched by two class days and the weekend. Even though I'd been mentally drained lately ( by lately I mean since the 1st week of school ) and had other work to do, I completed it with slightly less annotations.

Upon the due date I discovered that I and one other classmate completed the reading. Even the valedictorian didn't do it!!! And this wasn't a one time thing either.

In fact my class is notorious for never doing work on time. I'm talking completing-a-project-in-the-class before-the-it's -due- for bad. And some people I understand. Some of them really need help and resources. But every one else. Excuses excuses. The extended due dates gave me extra free time but it made the work I completed on time feel pointless. Like I could've just not done it and not face any consequences.

I tried that and was stressed out all day to the point of doing the work anyway. School's got me whipped I guess.

So if I hate highschool so much why do I go on time everyday, miss at most 3 days a year, do my work, behave myself and study??? Simple. I'm trying to get out. Having a good gpa and test scores will get me more scholarships cuz God knows my mom can't afford art college ( I got into my first choice so yeah:). Really highschool has just been a means to an end.

I've had my good days and have made some friends but I really just wanna run to hills with my diploma in hand. And thats what's kept me going. But now we're quarantined.

And my school has decided to make work optional.....and I have all A's......

Needless to say I've barely done any work at all. If we never have to go back theres a good chance I won't. I'm so numb at this point that I don't care that we may not have a prom ( aka the only dance I was ever going to go to ).

I'm just done. Done and fed up.

But thank you to my mom, family, bestie, teachers and my classmates that actually want to have a future for keeping me going. If I don't completely give up it's thanks to you. Future me, I hope you get everything you want at art school:)

[prorevenge]

The neighborhood remembers. The neighborhood punishes.

This is a story I've been sitting on for a few years now, and having discovered r/prorevenge a couple months ago, I decided it's finally time to let the world know what happened to a sociopath who dared to cross The Neighborhood.

To set the stage, I used to live in a big but not huge city, lets call it palmville. I lived near the corner of a dense suburb nestled between overstuffed apartment buildings, a river that smelled like diesel when at low tide, and two busy highways. I was a minority in this neighborhood and I caught a lot of heat for it, people didn't really like white people there, but enough of our neighbors were accepting of us that aside from a few disagreements between families and the beatings that came with them I didn't feel like I was in danger when leaving my home. It was a rough neighborhood, but it was my home, and it protected its own.

The Community Center was like a temple, and...lets call her A.M. was the priestess. In our neighborhood she was respected like a living deity, and her calm and understanding reflected her status. I never once saw her behave without a strong moral code.

And the final piece to set this stage, our former landlord. Short asian lady in all the stereotypical ways, kind and sweet. Our house was above my parent's pay grade and she knew it. She went out of her way to find house repair and maintenance jobs for tenants that were having money problems. She'd pay them by taking chunks out of their rent, often times a bit larger than how much the work they did was worth. Looking back, that was probably illegal, but that's irrelevant because she died. The circumstances surrounding her death were suspect, but none of the suspects play a part in this story so there's no need to go into detail on it.

Her sons, who wanted nothing to do with real-estate, took over the business. They couldn't make heads or tails of how she managed to float books with so much red in them and began dumping properties, ours was on that list. I harbor no ill-will towards them, and still wish them the best, but the guy who bought the house...enter the sociopath and today's victim.

This guy wasted no time in making our lives hell. His first action was to raise the rent. Apparently when the account changed hands, he was allowed to update the rent to modern pricing. We'd been there for several years and were paying below market even from the onset, so this was a huge blow by itself. The second blow came when he said that the rent had to be ready, in full, on the first of every month, no partial payments, no work to reduce it, no extensions. Full rent on the first of the month or an eviction notice on the second. This was hemorrhaging our savings, but we were surviving for the moment.

Meanwhile, A.M. had lobbied hard for the city to co-fund a revival project to renovate the entire aging suburb and she succeeded. One street at a time had conga lines of work trucks almost every day and people were getting old leaky pipes replaced, sinkholes in yards patched, fences repaired, paint renewed, it was an amazing thing, and an enticing thing for The Sociopath.

Being at the corner of the neighborhood, our house was on the last street on the list, and Sociopath wanted us out so he could relist the house after renovation. He never said this directly, but multiple conversations made his intent clear even for 10 year old me.

Random inspections, overhyping of minor problems with the house, even so far as trying to bring us up on completely false animal abuse charges because our cat was attacked by what we believe was a raccoon and he tried to claim we did it, yeah, because a vet can't figure out the difference between knife wounds and a mauling.

We read the writing on the wall and began preparations to move. We decided to move in with my oldest brother in a place I'll call banjoland. Most of us had moved except my other brother, who stayed behind because he still had a lot of social ties in Palmville and his new job meant if he cut corners, he could keep paying sociopath's inflated bills.

Well, despite his best efforts, he came up $20 short one month and sociopath jumped on it. he had 30 days. We made the 400 mile trip from Banjoland to Palmville to get the rest of our stuff and I can't say as I approved of my brother's living conditions, but I guess that's beside the point. The month passed rather uneventfully, I guess Sociopath figured he'd won so there was no need to burn the gas to drive out and gloat.

The neighborhood had learned what was going on and that was the first time I'd ever been back in that neighborhood where I didn't get a single callout, a single glare, a single racist remark. Everybody behaved reverently, it was kind of disturbing in all honesty, I guess people in lower incomes all know what eviction means and felt like I was having a bad enough time already.

Well, 20 days later he says it's time to leave. We still had a week left, but it didn't matter, we didn't have the money to try fighting it with a lawyer. A.M. descended from the heavens and bought us a couple extra days, but it was evident he really really wanted us out, possibly because the work trucks were now one street away.

The last time I ever saw the house I grew up in, workmen were throwing my childhood possessions into a large bin when we supposedly still had three days left to leave. Everything that follows is a collection of information I got through the grapevine and phone calls with people present at the events.

Immediately, Sociopath moved into the house himself. Why you may ask? People who owned the homes they were living in were getting the full cost of renovations comped by the city. He figured that by moving in himself, he'd be able to get this house he bought at liquidation price renovated for free and flip it.

A.M. was having none of it.

She explained to him that at the time the revival project was approved, that house was a rental lot, and they can't change the budget now. She then explained to him that the partial cost coverage that had been approved for the lot was in our name, not his, and he wasn't eligible for partial cost comping either.

He'd have to pay every penny himself, and since the entire neighborhood was getting a facelift, he was required to at least renovate the exterior, otherwise she'd see the house condemned as an eyesore or dilapidated or whatever the legal term is. He went really cheap on the renovations, basically put in new carpets and a coat of paint, this would later come to bite him in the ass.

He then began trying to sell the house in earnest. The neighborhood remembered what he'd done. There were vandalisms when nobody was there, and loud noises from the neighbors when people were there to look the house over, and anytime a prospective buyer asked around, they got the full stinkeye from anybody they talked to. They made sure he simply couldn't get that house sold at market value.

After three months of this, he lowered the listing price. Then a month later he lowered it again and finally got a bite. A.M. personally made sure he had to file every. single. piece. of paperwork before it changed hands. Every single part of the house had to be inspected thoroughly.

And that's when Karma herself caught up with him. In his hasty and cheap renovations, he'd somehow damaged the pipes.

Black. Mold.

A.M. remembered how he'd treated us and she decided to pay him back in kind. I never heard how exactly she pulled it off, but she managed to delay him getting the news about the black mold being discovered for several days, long enough that by time he did get the news he didn't have enough time left to try getting it cleaned or make a last ditch effort to save the house.

The house was condemned days later.

In their final act, A.M. and members of the neighborhood filed every single complaint and injunction they could and arranged for him to be compelled by the city to demolish the house immediately. A cost he had to pay out of his own pocket.

He tried to destroy a family and broke laws just to make some quick cash, and instead was left fighting a year long legal battle and ended up losing thousands.

The neighborhood remembers. The neighborhood punishes.

(source) story by (/u/TanyaSapien)