#finally! some serious work! (perishes)

[takitori67]

(Phone crashes) (this kills the man.jpg)

#fgo #fate grand order #arjuna #ttls gallery #finally! some serious work! (perishes) #you can tell i have given up on his clothes btw. i cannot do shading for accessories #this wasnt meant to be digital. i was just moody and #(eyes twitched x3.14) when arjuna's eyes look so off balanced while lining this out on paper #criticism is accepted because i want to know if the colors are wrong. ty. adios for now

[itsphoenix0724]

~WELCOME~

~Azriel x Reader~

Tonight, you sing for me- you and your mate enjoy unexpected fun in your new home when you borrow Az's shadows for the night (2.5k)

Flower Power -Az comes into contact with a strange flower on his trip to the continent, and he begins having some strange.....side effects. (3.3k)

Falling Stars -Az feels like his throat is closing when he sees you in your Starfall dress, and he can't seem to get a word out to you. At least, until you're both more than a few drinks in. (2.8k)

A Shadowed Throne -The warmer seasons have been particularly hard this year as Azriel awaits his Queen's return. When winter finally dawns he finds Death will only kneel to Life in one circumstance. (1.5k)

Can You Kill a God? -No one will ever forget why you are Death's queen ever again. (2.4k)

Tickle My Strings -Azriel becomes a regular guest at your performances, and when you take a trip back to your house, you find the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought. (4.6k)

Hold Me Gently -Azriel knew exactly what he signed up for when he became the court's spymaster, but sometimes everything gets too much for him to handle. (1.6k) Bonus Chapter!

Meet Me On The Ice: Series

You and Lucien Vanserra have been skating together since you were children, but when he has an accident that takes him out right before championships you turn to your brother and his hockey team to fill the position. His best friend Azriel has lethal grace on the ice and owes your brother a favor, which seems like a match made in heaven, except you can’t stand each other. Can you and Azriel pull a routine together in time for your competition, or will it all spiral out of control?

Dancing With Shadows: Series

Living your life with a long-distance relationship has never bothered you before, but when you surprise Az with a plane ticket you finally get to see how it works in person.

~Eris x Reader~

Your Heart on a Platter: Series

(On hiatus)

The only way to seek your revenge is to return the heir of Autumn's heart back to a witch in two months time. However, this task proves much more difficult than you presume it to be.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2

All Things Vile -A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

~Cassian x Reader~

Through the Pass- On a quiet night in with his mate Cassian recounts his past lover. A fierce, bold-hearted Valkyrie who perished during the war. (2.1k)

~Rhysand x Reader~

Promises Pt 2-You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from. (1.7k)

~REQUESTS~

Date Night (Azriel x Reader)

You Lookin'? (Azriel x Reader)

Sit down (Feyre x Reader)

Kiss Me In The Quiet (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

The Fawn and Her Lion (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

Forever Afterall (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

Hate Me (Azriel x Reader)

~WRITING EVENTS~

Build Me A Bouquet -Ongoing

#acotar #masterlist

[seat-safety-switch]

Although it is very clichéd, drinking out of a human skull mug at work gets a lot of messages across. For one thing, it shows that you are serious. It also shows that you’re going to spend a lot of time drinking coffee, because a human skull is very hard to drink out of, and it can only hold a little bit of coffee at a time, because human skulls are not designed to hold coffee. Which is why I primarily drink either high-test aircraft cleaning spirits and fruity, sugar-heavy cocktails. Sure makes the Monday planning meetings go a little faster, and no one’s the wiser, unless I fuck up and include one of those little cocktail umbrellas.

Mugs are actually a surprisingly significant part of my life. Once, a long time ago, I had the perfect mug. The handle fit my hand very well – snugly, but far enough away from the barrel that I didn’t burn my knuckles. There was a little lip. It didn’t wobble when I put it down on an uneven table, or workbench, or desk. Then, I left it in the communal office dishwasher, and some asshole stole it.

This thief – and make no mistake, their felonious intent is communicated thoroughly – didn’t just misplace the mug. They didn’t carry it back to their desk, realize it wasn’t one of “the office’s” mugs, and return it to be washed. One, two days, even a week... I could deal with that. It was gone for months upon months. Soon, I had lost all hope of seeing it again in the cleaned-mugs cupboard or even the grotty sink full of coworker leavings.

I considered asking around about it, but to admit that level of vulnerability at work would have compromised my position. Not because I was powerful. No, because I was and am the weird asshole who doesn’t do any work. As long as I didn’t raise too much of a fuss, they couldn’t be bothered to figure out who would be responsible for firing me. In fact, my line manager had perished in a motorcycle racing accident several years ago, and I just intercepted my own performance-review paperwork when HR put it on his desk and signed it myself. To draw attention to my precarious existence by making a stink about a coffee mug would mean that I would finally have to stop playing Counter-Strike and shopping for car parts all day. And then I’d have to get a real job.

So, I let that mug go. Maybe one day, it’ll turn up again. I make sure to attend all the going-away parties on the other part of the floor, and even on the adjacent floors, just in case the thief who ruined my life lived in a different department. In the meantime, I have a stupid human skull mug. It doesn’t fit in the dishwasher, and no thief will want to wash it by hand and then steal it, not when there’s a Garfield lead-cadmium one from the 70s in there too.

[hebuiltfive]

N/B: It's up on AO3 with the news work skin, if you'd prefer to read it there. If not, I present to you Jeff and Scott's join POTY interview (the date is flexible, shush).

TIME’s Person of the Year 2065

Jefferson and Scott Tracy: A Hero’s Return

By Lila Ward.

Rumours have swirled and gossip has flourished in the months following the return of Jefferson Tracy. Questions have been asked, both in public forums and behind closed doors, on his suitability to return to his work, as a face of the good and the honourable, but none of that has seemed to stop him. 

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last eight years, the world knows the story of the great Jeff’s Tracy’s demise. For eight whole years, the world had thought Jeff had perished in one final battle of good versus evil; a heroic death for an extraordinary man. 

The truth was not so simple, as it rarely ever is.

Jeff Tracy had not succumbed to an early grave, but had been exiled in the far reaches of space. For nearly a decade, Jeff Tracy lived out a life in the stars; a solitary existence for a man who deserved better.

The universe, however, smiled upon him favourably and sent the blessed International Rescue to save him from a cold and lonely demise, an organisation that Jeff had set-up years prior.

How had he survived? 

What state was he in? 

Did he really make it home unscathed? 

Is he really capable of carrying on where he left off?

These are some of those questions that have been asked. I, myself, had been one of the many who was curious about the answers too once upon a time but any and all worries are dispelled the moment I set eyes on the man for the first time. 

It’s a cold, rainy November day in New York. I had half-expected to greet a man who looked like he’d spent the last eight years in space, but that wasn’t the man I met. Jeff isn’t frail or in need of any sort of help. He looks his age, he sounds ever-so cheerful and his energy is boundless.

Over the course of his impressive career, Jeff Tracy has had a number of “firsts” —he was the first man to step foot on Mars; the first man to travel at Mach 20; the first man to survive an eight year stint in space with nothing but the remnants of a test-plane and the clothes on his back — but what I want to hone in on is his achievement of being named Time's Person of the Year for the fourth time — a record breaking feat which he can add to his list of “firsts”.

"I can't say that it was a record I was setting out to break.” Jeff confesses to me when I ask him what it feels like to hit yet another milestone. “It is nice though, I won't lie, to be up there with the greats.”

The first time Jeff was named Person of the Year was all the way back in the late 2020s, when Jeff first took over his family's business. "I had no idea what I was doing back then.” He admits to me with a twinkle sparkling in his eye. It makes me wonder if he's telling the truth or not. "I was just a baby trying to find his way. God... 2029! I don't even think I was married at that point."

His second Person of the Year feature was, like this one, a joint piece. Back then, Jeff was joined with Captain Lee Taylor, a close friend and colleague, after they had both recently returned from their two-year mission to become the first Men on Mars. 

"Lee always joked that it was the highlight of his career; not the mission but the magazine, the title. I said to him, "Lee, you cannot be serious. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the mission!" But he was deadly serious about it, telling me firmly that it was the greatest moment of his life. I’m still not sure whether he was trying to pull my leg or not with that.” 

Was it an honour to be named Person of the Year alongside his friend? "Of course it was, Lila! It was an honour to be named Person of the Year the first time. Being able to do it with Taylor? That was an even greater honour. The greatest, of course, if being able to share it this year with Scott.”

His third time being named Person of the Year was for his creation of the philanthropic organisation, International Rescue. "That... was a tricky one." Jeff remembers with an almost sour expression. "The world had only just found out some of the identities involved in that work — we had tried very hard to remain anonymous at first, but alas it wasn't meant to be — and some of the world didn't like the idea of who was behind it."

Some tabloids ran with obscene headlines that claimed International Rescue wasn't an organisation for the people due to the billionaire who had founded the group. Others claimed that their attempts of secrecy meant the team were hiding something nefarious. We know now that all of those rumours were based in nothing but opinions, but at the time, Jeff recalls it doing damage.

"It didn't hit me hard, but I remember Casey becoming increasingly more frustrated by it. Taylor too, if I'm being honest.  To me, so long as it didn't impede my ability to get out and help people, I didn't care what they wrote. It didn't matter. I was in a position to help people and so I did. 

“There were times when our help was refused, purely because people had believed what they’d read in the tabloids, but… there was nothing we could do except keep trying to do better and prove ourselves. We should never have needed to prove ourselves but I guess we managed it.”

In the years that followed, and in his subsequent years trapped in space, two of his sons managed to follow in Jeff’s footsteps and attain the title for themselves.

John Tracy was first, being named Person of the Year the same year Jeff disappeared. At the time, he was one of the youngest to obtain the title, a fact that makes Jeff chuckle. "He told me about it when I got home. He didn't seem to speak fondly of the experience but I'm sure that was just John. He’s never been keen on interviews and I don’t think that’s changed much. I know he was proud of it, though; he wouldn't have told me if he wasn't."

The second was Scott Tracy a few years later. 

I turn to Scott who is sitting beside his father. This year, as joint Person of the Year alongside Jeff, marks Scott's second time being awarded the title. I ask him whether it’s different the second time around.

“The first time was bizarre and, at the time, I felt a little like an imposter. I think it was a couple of years after we thought we’d lost Dad, and to be named Person of the Year for all the work I was doing in Dad's name, with his companies, all without him being around to witness, or even claim the title himself... it was a little weird.

“It’s a lot less weird this time, though. I think I’m able to actually enjoy it this time around.”

Both of them have just come back from their accompanying photoshoot and are still dressed in the last ensemble Wardrobe had trussed them up in. Jeff wears a dark navy blue trimmed suit, his silver hair gelled in a style that makes him appear younger than his actual years. Scott wears a similar cut of suit, though his is in a shade of lighter blue. The resemblance between the father-son duo is much more prominent in person than in the glossy photos were accustomed to seeing.

Scott, along with the rest of his family's organisation, were the reason Jeff arrived home safe and sound, and the reason I'm able to sit down and chat with the great hero himself, but it must have come as a shock when they discovered the truth about what really happened to their father?

"It certainly wasn't the news we had been expecting to hear." Scott answers with a grim expression. I assume he's remembering that fateful day. "But when we heard there was a chance that Dad was still alive, we all knew there was no choice but to try. That’s all we ever do at International Rescue; we try for the best option, deal with whatever hand we're dealt."

It’s safe to say that International Rescue are probably experts when it comes to dealing with whatever hand their dealt at this point. Not only do they have to adjust plans whilst out on their rescues, but this very operation of rescuing Jeff nearly ended in more tragedy. 

"We did encounter a few problems." Scott goes on to tell me, detailing how their arch-nemesis — the international criminal known as the Hood — tried to abandon them in the depths of space. I wonder aloud how it feels to have someone considered an arch-nemesis, but Scott laughs.

"I wouldn't recommend trying to find one. It might sound cool but they're more trouble than they're worth."

So, after the mission they’d essentially been unknowingly preparing for all their lives, what’s next for International Rescue and the Tracy family? Is Jeff planning on heading into retirement?

"Oh, no. No, no, no." The determined shake of the patriarch’s head is enough to emphasis his point. "No plans of that whatsoever. I've still got life in me, come on! I think people expected me to come back as this weak, older man who had given up hope over the years ago, but that isn't me." 

Jeff is proud of that fact, I can tell. He lifts his head and those crystal blue eyes pierce mine. "I've got plans. The world thought they'd said goodbye to Jeff Tracy years ago, but it was just a see you later. There might be a lot of people who would like to see me fade away into the shadows — actually, there’s probably a fair few — but that ain’t happening anytime soon."

The plans Jeff claims to have are a tightly guarded secret, however. Even Scott doesn't know the scope. 

"We've not had a full discussion yet, but I think I know the direction Dad wants to go. There's still a lot to be ironed out but it's very exciting and it's definitely going to help International Rescue, and the world at large really, in the near future."

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderfam #scott tracy #jeff tracy #five fics #fic: TIME's Person of the Year 2065

[tricktster]

so i’ve been baking bread pretty regularly since sayyyy april 2020. you know, when we were waiting for this whole kooky covid thing to die down in a few weeks, but in the meantime some people had taken the very rational step of buying out every store’s supply of EXTREMELY PERISHABLE goods, including the extremely sad 100 calorie sandwich rounds favored by my parents.

now me? I’d read enough zombie very serious survival books to have ventured to the co-op on March 10 to stock up on dry bulk ingredients, and I’d included yeast and bread flour among the necessities - not because I thought that they’d ever get used, really, it just seemed practical if things got a lot worse than anticipated. And then? Well. You know.

So I joined the club of the tens of thousands of americans who had always viewed leavened dough with a healthy skepticism and the deep sense that these things were best left to the professionals. With the circumstances now unimaginably altered, we were now very cautiously dumping yeast into bowls of warm water, all the while doubting that this would actually work. So, obviously, that sense of accomplishment I felt when, after all the proofing and kneading and rising and punching down and rising again and venting and egg washing and etc etc etc, I actually pulled two relatively respectable loaves of bread out of the oven? Fucking intoxicating.

I’ve gotten medium good at bread over the intervening years, insofar as I can produce a sandwich loaf without needing to find a recipe, I’m pretty comfortable with adding cheese or garlic or raisins and nuts or whatever if I’m feeling like an Interesting Bread, i’ve forced a few loaves of sourdough into existence (though both I and the dough were kicking and screaming the whole way), and I recieved the ultimate tool of convenience for my birthday last year, when my parents gave me the dutch oven that finally permitted me to finally skip kneading altogether (if I so desired).

Except like.,. I didn’t ask for a dutch oven. I actually asked for something much cheaper and by all accounts more convenient: A bread machine. When I did, though, my mom (who has baked precisely 0 loaves of bread in her life) said “oh, you don’t want a bread machine.”

“I don’t?” I asked, already halfway swayed by her confidence on the matter.

“oh, no, nobody ever actually uses bread machines, they just take up space on the counter.” my mom, a woman who owns two instapots, assured me.

I considered her reasoning, and very firmly replied with a defiant “oh, okay, yeah. that makes sense, and I guess I’ve gotten this far without one, so like, it’s silly to get one now.”

I know. I have a will of steel.

So like, another year has passed since that exchange, and a week or two ago i finally decided that since counter space is no longer at a premium at my new place, i could at least try out a cheap bread machine? I went on ebay, got an open box deal on a decent entry level model, and took it for a spin yesterday.

And, for what it’s worth, uhhhhhhh HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT COULD HAVE BEEN THIS LOW EFFORT THE WHOLE TIME?????

LIKE I COULD HAVE BEEN JUST DUMPING INGREDIENTS IN A PAN AND WALKING AWAY THIS WHOLE TIME?????!?!?!?

it’s making brioche for me right now. It’s almost too easy. I’m actively furious.

This feels exactly like the day I finally bought a game genie so i could get Mew to finish out my red dex. I’ve been grinding and learning helpful strats from youtube and there was a fucking cheat code that would have let me skip the bread making side quest while still gaining xp this whole goddamn time.

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 14 Rewatch: “Game of Drones”

The basics: A bombing at a drone facility kills one, injures another and sets off the search for some terrorists in Los Angeles.

Written by: R. Scott Gemmill wrote/cowrote “The Only Easy Day”, “Brimstone”, “Breach”, “LD50”, “Found”, “Borderline”, “Absolution”, “Archangel”, “Tin Soldiers”, “Impostors”, “Cyberthreat”, “Honor”, “The Watchers” and both sides of the NCIS Los: Angeles/Hawaii Five-0 “Touch of Death” episodes, “Recruit”, “Free Ride”, “Wanted”, “Ravens and The Swans”, “Impact”, “War Cries”, both ends of the “Deep Trouble” season five finale/season six premiere, “Inelegant Heart”, “Praesidium”, “Traitor”, “Active Measures” (season seven premiere), “Blame It On Rio”, “Internal Affairs”, “Matryoshka” part one, "Talion" (season seven finale), “High Value Target”/”Belly of the Beast” (season eight premieres), “The Queen’s Gambit”, “Under Siege”, “Unleashed” (season eight finale), “Party Crashers” (season nine’s premiere), “This Is What We Do” (episode 200), “Các Tù Nhân”, “Goodbye Vietnam”, “Ninguna Salida” (the season nine finale), “Hit List”, “Asesinos”, “Till Death Do Us Part”, “Choke Point”, “The Guardian”, “Hail Mary”, “Kill Beale Vol. 1”, “Alsiyadun”, “Fortune Favors the Brave”, “The Bear” (season 12 premiere), “Angry Karen”, “Love Kills”, “Russia, Russia, Russia”, “The Noble Maidens”, “A Tale of Two Igors” (season 12 finale), "Subject 17" (season 13 premiere), "All The Little Things", “MWD” and “Work and Family”.

Directed by: Kevin Berlandi. Berlandi is new to NCIS: Los Angeles. He has directed episodes of Criminal Minds, Bull and Partner Track.

Guest stars of note: Kavi Ramachandran Ladnier returns as NCIS Reserve Agent Shyla Dahr from “Work and Family”. Both Natalia Del Riego as Rosa Reyes and Richard Gant as Raymond Hanna are back from “Come Together”. Jennifer Marshall as Navy Commander Neal, Jamil Zraikat as Cyrus Karimian, Jenapher Zheng as Janice Ng, Anna Rajo as Maria Estevez, Turhan Troy Caylak as Darius “Bunny” Vale and Ramona Dubarry as Monica Tavares

Our heroes: Are back at it for season 14.

What important things did we learn about:

Callen: Asks to bring Hetty’s remains home from Syria if she was the one who perished. Sam: Bringing his father to an activity center so he can swim, play pool and poker. Kensi: Sniper. Deeks: Would have been killed without Sniper Wife. Fatima: Doling out assignments. Rountree: Starts an interview with an engineer and ends up defending what he does. Kilbride: Commandeering helicopters.

What not so important things did we learn about:

Callen: Self-titled world’s coolest uncle. Sam: Not thrilled his father broke away from the activity center. Kensi: First day school drop off. Deeks: Not built for first day school drop off or public restrooms. Fatima: Old show went into syndication so Fatima has cool new wheels. Rountree: Calculus is better than is algebra. Kilbride: Betting his non-existent grandchildren.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange? Not in a schoolhouse/safe house in Syria although some of her alias IDs were.

Who's down with OTP: Kensi and Deeks get to be anxious parents dropping Rosa off for her first day at school. They have a long and serious conversation bracketed between some Deeks jokes about how brutal their jobs can be, how awful the world is and that letting Rosa into the world to be her best self is an act of faith that the world will be kind.

Who's down with BrOTP: Not a lot of BrOTP situations. Callen works with Fatima, Rountree is mostly solo and Sam is only around at the end.

Fashion review: Callen is wearing a red, white and blue plaid button-down. Long sleeve black tee-shirt for Sam. Kensi wears a blood-red tee-shirt. Deeks starts the episode in a pale purple tee-shirt before wearing an LAFD fire inspector/marshal’s uniform undercover. White turtleneck for Fatima with a buttery looking black leather jacket (spectacular!). Rountree is wearing a blue, white and grey jacket over a pale blue tee. Dark blue three-piece suit, white dress shirt and blue and white tie for the Admiral.

Music: Not today.

Any notable cut scene: See music.

Quote: Kensi: “You know, all this is making me feel like I want to call Rosa and check in on her.” Deeks: “Okay, pull up on that stick there, helicopter mom, because she's fine. You just need to give her some space and time to find herself and-and to grow. Put the phone down.” Kensi: “Yeah, I know, but how many parents dropped their kids off at school only to never see them again because of another school shooting” Deeks: “Okay, you can't, you can't think like that.” Kensi: “How can you not think like that?” Deeks: “I mean, all right, you can consider the possibility, you can do the drills, but at some point, you just have to give in and believe in a greater good. I just feel like that's getting harder and harder to do. Yeah, well, that's why they call it faith.”

Anything else: A security guard is making his way through an engineering firm. The firm builds drones. The guard’s route is very deliberate, logging in and out of areas as he makes his way through building. As he gets near the exit, he sees a janitor’s cart just off the entrance.

Exiting the building, the guard locks up and logs out. There is a massive explosion. The guard is thrown ten feet from the door and fiery debris lands all around him.

Cue the new credits – a little red in the logo.

A really overprotective Kensi and Deeks are dropping Rosa off at school. Deeks is worried about bullying which makes Rosa nervous about bullying. Kensi and Deeks will pick her up after school but will text if there is a delay. There is a back-up plan with “Naomi’s mom”. After reviewing the alarm code for the house and the panic code, Rosa is finally on her way. Kensi and Deeks rethink their plan with home schooling a possibility. Deeks announces “I’m not built for this.”

As Sam is ready to take his father to an adult activity center, Raymond is walking around in his pajamas and slippers. Raymond is has no interest in “adult day-care”. Sam sells the place which has a gym, pool and library. Raymond is fine with Sam leaving him at a gym, a pool or a library. Sam notes this place has all three. The two bicker before Sam asks Raymond to just try the place. Since they have billiards and poker, Raymond is a little more interested but disappointed that the poker games aren’t for money. “The only fun is when you’re winning real money.” Mrs. Williams, Raymond’s caretaker, will be picking him up at the end of the day. Raymond complains about her driving. He’s also not keen on the idea of making new friends at the activity center since as soon as you get to know someone, they die. The only new things there are hips and pacemakers. Sam is patient with his father as he makes old age jokes.

Arriving through the side door, Fatima sees Callen looking at party venues. She offers some help – she’s good at planning things. Callen was looking for wedding venues. Fatima asks what does Anna want. Anna is torn between a trip to City Hall and Arkady’s dream of recreating “Doctor Zhivago”, complete with horses and snow. Fatima asks if Callen has a theme – traditional, fantasy, cosplay. Callen asks about “fantasy” and Fatima goes on including Sam as a troll, Deeks as a pixie, Kilbride as a wizard. Shaking his head, Callen tells Fatima he’s going to run these roles by them to see what they think. Fatima says no. “It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Callen replies. Fatima knows he’s kidding and asks that he not. Shyla interrupts, Kilbride needs to see Callen.

Walking to Kilbride’s office, Callen asks Shyla what’s up. She isn’t sure but there has been a communique from Syria. In his office, Kilbride tells Shyla to hold his calls and patch the Commander through to the plasma in his office. Commander Neal pops up on the screen. With the help of the Syrian Democratic Forces, Neal and her team were doing some recon work. At an abandoned school, known to be a safehouse, there was an ambush. Human remains were found, burned beyond recognition. One body had documents identifying them as Trudy Chambers, an American female. Callen looks stunned. Asking if the remains of Chambers were that of a small woman, Neal confirms they were. Dental records and DNA is still be checked. She will contact them when they have an ID. Trudy Chambers is one of Hetty’s aliases.

In Ops, Fatima arrives and asks Shyla what’s the new case. There is television coverage of the explosion and fire at Havlock/Haines Aerospace the prior night. Havlock/Haines builds remote piloted vehicles for the Navy. A janitor was killed, the security guard was badly injured. ATF said the bomb was nitroamine high explosive. The dead janitor was Luis Estevez, the guard Morgan Reynolds. Neither fits the profile of a bomber – more wrong place, wrong time. Fatima will go to the crime scene with Callen, Kensi and Deeks will look into the janitor while Rountree looks into the security guard. Shyla seems a little surprised that Fatima is doling out assignments – that is usually the job of a more senior agent. Since Shyla does not see a more senior agent in Ops, “go get ‘em girl,” is her advice.

Asking if the remains will be flown back to the US, Kilbride tells Callen they will be if they are positively identified. Callen wants to accompany them. Kilbride agrees. Callen then brings up Harris Keane, who was travelling with Hetty. Once the forensic team completes their work, the Admiral thinks they’ll know more. Knowing if she was ambushed at a safe house – even if it wasn’t Hetty – Callen believes she’s in danger. Kilbride disagrees – Hetty was in danger the minute she went back to Syria. And there are no safe houses in Syria right now. But since this is Hetty, she has more lives than a barn cat and is just as mean. Callen nods his head in agreement.

In the boatshed’s main room, Kensi and Deeks are speaking to Maria Estevez, daughter of janitor Luis Estevez. After offering condolences, they asks Maria about her father. He liked working as the night janitor – the money was good and it left him time during the day for other projects. As a skilled carpenter and mason, Estevez worked construction jobs when they came up. Kensi asks when did he sleep. Maria has an immediate answer – Sundays. During family dinners in the fall, he’d doze off watching football. Deeks asks why did Estevez work two jobs. Maria explains that years ago, her immigrant father worked two jobs to make ends meet. In recent years, especially after the death of his wife/Maria’s mother from COVID two years ago, it was to keep busy. Estevez did not work with explosives but loved fireworks. The Estevez family loved to put on a display. Asking if there were any financial issues, drugs, enemies, Maria states her father was a gentle and caring man who did anything to help others. Since Maria was told Estevez died in a factory accident, she wants to know what’s going on. Kensi and Deeks would like to see Estevez’s home.

A sullen Callen is a bit surprised by Fatima’s new Porsche. She explains her old TV show was just sold into syndication. When Callen notes the vehicle isn’t subtle, Fatima replies that in LA, subtle stands out. Callen is still distracted so Fatima asks if he is OK. He updates her about the body found in Syria. Fatima offers condolences and asks if they can do anything. They can’t so they should work the case.

Calling in to Ops from outside the hospital, Rountree has no luck with the security guard. He’s lawyered up but even if he didn’t, his doctor said he was in no condition to be questioned. Shyla notes he was healthy enough to find a lawyer. The Admiral wants the hospital staff and the lawyer to be put on notice, “as soon as he can eat his Jell-O, he better start talking.” Shyla is going to get a warrant to search Reynolds’s residence while the Admiral wants to question the staff at Havlock/Haines about Reynolds.

At the crime scene, Callen and Fatima are in the bombed out facility. The sleek, modern place is now a mass of burnt walls, cables and wires hanging from the ceiling, rubble all over. Speaking to executive Monica Tavares, she explains that the explosion is a financial hit to the company. Not only do they have to rebuild but they are not going to meet certain orders from contracts. Callen asks if she knows who would do something like this. Tavares has a list – anarchists, right-wing extremists, anti-war activists. Fatima asks about industry rivals or disgruntled employees. There are some – a few staffers left after they started working for the government – conscientious objections to making “weapons of war”. When Fatima asks for contact info, Taveras agrees to cooperate but makes it clear, none of them would blow up the building.

Callen asks if there were any other issues in recent weeks and months. Nothing as obvious as blowing up the facility but Havlock/Haines has been subject to a “relentless” series of cyber-attacks. The company is working on where they are coming from but no luck finding who is behind them. Callen gets a call from Shyla who has the terribly burned corpse of Luis Estevez on the big screen (ick, show, ick). Estevez was already dead for several hours when the explosion occurred.

Later speaking to Fatima, if Estevez was dead before the explosion, they likely used him to get into the building. Fatima agrees – the bombers killed Estevez, used his ID to get into the building, probably put his body and the bomb into something like a cleaning cart. That would be Fatima’s plan. Callen finds it scary but thinks it would be a good way to dispose of the body. Fatima agrees – it would make it look like Estevez died in the explosion.

Walking around the immaculate home of Luis Estevez, Kensi is on the phone with Callen. Thinking unless he was Jekyll and Hyde, Kensi believes Estevez was Mr. Rogers only more neat. Callen wants Kensi to check if Maria has power of attorney so they can access his phone and financials. Fatima asks about home security but Estevez barely locked is doors. Fatima wants to check the neighbors’ security systems to see if anyone was following Estevez. Kensi will ask. They also want Kensi to ask about Estevez’s daily routine. Meanwhile, Estevez’s Jeep is going to NCIS’s carport – they will check to see if he had GPS.

Moving to the kitchen, Maria is packing up the food in her father’s home. She talks about her father’s truck. Deeks assures her the truck will be released to the family when NCIS is done with it. Maria seems less worried about that, more thinking about how much her father loved the truck. It was his first ever new vehicle. Kensi asks about power-of-attorney. Maria got it after her mother passed away, her father got all his paperwork in order. Kensi tells Maria that they can take info from her father’s phone and financial records and maybe find who killed him. Maria is weeping. Deeks looks so uncomfortable. Kensi, seeing Maria’s distress, asks if she would be able to come up with her father’s daily routine, “Can you do that?” Maria says she can try.

Outside of the house, Kensi and Deeks are wrecked about the pain of the day. Deeks makes a joke about the pain being as bad as kidney stones, annoying Kensi. He extends to the joke to childbirth, leading Kensi to calling him an idiot. When Deeks says he’s joking, Kensi wants to know why. “Because if I don’t joke, this job is too sad for me to keep doing it.” Kensi understands but thinks he’s an idiot – a loveable one. All the sadness has Kensi wanting to call Rosa and see if she’s OK. Deeks stops her – this is Rosa’s time to “find herself and to grow.” Kensi brings up school shootings, something Deeks does not want to think about. It is what Kensi thinks about. Deeks tells her they can do the drills and prepare Rosa the best they can but at some point “you just have to give in and believe in a greater good.” Kensi finds that hard to do but Deeks tells her that’s what faith is. “I mean George Michael even wrote a song about it.” Deeks makes some George jokes.

Arriving at Ops, the Admiral wants a sit-rep. Shyla fills him in on the team’s status. She is also working with NCIS CYBER to find who is behind the cyber-attacks against Havlock/Haines. The Admiral figures that whoever did this was willing to kill an innocent man and used high end explosives – they are not militia “idiots”. Shyla suggests industrial espionage – a rival company that wants some of the hundreds of millions of dollars available in military contracts. The Admiral is rooting for that because the alternative is state sponsored terrorism.

As Kilbride walks back to his office, Callen calls up from the bullpen, looking for news about the remains and Trudy Chambers. Kilbride assures Callen he would have updated him if there was any news from Syria. The Admiral’s more pressing concern is whoever blew up Havlock/Haines since they like aren’t done. He wants Callen focused on the task at hand and not Hetty. “Now go catch these bastards before they strike again.”

In the carport, Fatima is working on Estevez’s truck. She tells Callen that the vehicle was wiped clean – she can still smell the bleach. Callen gets a call from Alex asking if she wants to hang out with Jake. Fatima wishes she had a niece or nephew – it seems like fun. Callen agrees it is while they are young. When they get a little older, less time for the world’s coolest uncle and more time for teenage girls. Fatima asks if Callen gave himself the designation of world’s coolest uncle. Callen wants to know who is cooler than he is? After Fatima laughs, she announces he’s cool, “like supercool.” “Let’s not oversell it.”

In the boatshed, Rountree and Shyla on the plasma are chatting. He is meeting with Janice Ng who left Havlock/Haines when they started working for the DoD. Shyla gets an alert from CYBER – the source of the attack is coming from Beirut, Lebanon.

With Fatima and Callen back in Ops with Shyla, they are discussing Lebanon being an US ally but Hezbollah, a militant group with a political arm, is not. Callen brings up two Hezbollah operatives who were arrested in the US for planning acts of terrorism. Those arrests were for fundraising and weapon buys but things may have gotten more aggressive since the US’s relationship with Iran gets worse. Iran funds a lot of Hezbollah’s actions. Asking about Estevez’s truck, Callen tells Shyla that the truck was wiped clean as was his GPS. Callen wants a list from the Office of the Director of National Intelligence of any known Hezbollah members in the US, especially anyone on the West Coast.

In the boat shed, Janice Ng explains she joined Havlock/Haines to be part of the team that put the first person on Mars. She did not sign up to build weapons of mass destruction. Rountree tells her the drones aren’t weapons of mass destruction. Ng disagrees – they could be armed with a nuclear weapon. Rountree points out they aren’t but Ng thinks he’s being naïve. But she thinks it is Rountree’s job to cover up the military’s crimes against humanity. Explaining that it isn’t his job to cover up anything, Rountree is there to find the truth about who set the bomb at Havlock/Haines. Ng is annoyed – since she quit for not wanting to be “a warmonger”, she’s being treated as a suspect. She’s waiting for Rountree to beat a confession out of her.

Deeks arrives at the boat shed with Kensi right behind him. Rountree explains that he isn’t there to beat a confession out of Ng. Pointing to his wife, Deeks tells Ng that what Kensi is there to do as he walks into the restroom. Kensi tells Ng Deeks is just kidding. Rountree updates Kensi on his questioning and Ng lawyers up. Rountree tells her she doesn’t need a lawyer. After she warns them against railroading her, Rountree just cuts Ng loose.

Sighing that it is just “one of those days”, Rountree tells Kensi he’s gotten nothing from the former Havlock/Haines staffers. Kensi explains that they got some security footage and were going to Ops when “somebody needed a potty break.” Deeks returns from the restroom where they’re out of towels so he airdries his hands all over Kensi and Rountree. He explains that he would rather use their restroom than some public restroom. Rountree is more concerned that some of Deeks’s air-drying got into his mouth.

Contacting Ops, Kensi pulls out the thumb drive with the security camera footage and sends it to Shyla. Shyla has camera footage from other places as she tries to stitch together Estevez’s day. Kensi and Deeks are on their way to Ops to help Shyla. Deeks signals to Rountree that he probably shouldn’t use the restroom.

In the bullpen, Callen is reviewing some street camera footage with Fatima. With the coroner estimating Estevez’s time of death around 4PM, Callen sees white van for Bunny Vale Laundry and Dry Cleaning outside of his house at 11AM. The branded van is still there two-hours later. While it could be a long lunch or a day off, it is just as likely a stakeout. In Ops, Shyla has info on Bunny Vale Laundry, a chain in LA. Tracing the specific van, for the last few days, it was always near Estevez, either at his home or following him around.

Bunny Vale Laundry is owned by Darius “Bunny” Vale and his wife Sara. They are first-generation Persian-Americans, born in America. No links to Hezbollah but Fatima wonders if Vale is using his business as a front. There is a laundering money suggestion from Shyla – she really does fit right in. Callen and Fatima are going to speak to Vale.

In interrogation, Darius “Bunny” Vale is on the wrong side of the table. Callen shows him a photo of the laundry truck outside of Estevez’s home. Vale claims to have over a dozen vans like it. Callen tells Vale the van was used in a crime. Vale was worried something like that would happen – the van was stolen. Callen mentions there was no police report but Vale says the truck was gone for a while and then returned. He never knew it was missing until one of his employees found it. Since there was no damage to the van, he didn’t report it, figuring it was some teenage joyriders. The van was found near one of Vale’s locations by an employee who was with Vale for years. “Anything else?”

Pulling out his phone, Callen shows Vale Estevez’s dead body. Vale expresses his disgust in Farsi. Callen explains that Estevez was a father and a grandfather who was likely murdered in Vale’s van. When the forensic team goes through the “stolen” van, if they find any evidence Vale will be connected to Estevez’s murder and the attack on Havlock/Haines. Fatima asks how long as Vale supported Hezbollah. Vale is stunned – he’s never supported Hezbollah. Callen threatens a trip to Guantanamo Bay but Vale claims he had nothing to do with what happened.

When Callen says “last chance” to Vale, he explains he can’t help, “they’ll hurt my family.” Fatima offers protection but Vale is speaking about his family in Tehran. While NCIS has agents all over the world, they are not in Iran. Fatima tells him the threat is to his family in the US as well as Iran. If he helps them, they can stop threat.

Vale explains that two men demanded a van, was told if he didn’t cooperate his family in Iran would pay the price. He was told to not ask any questions and to not tell anyone. Vale gave them the van and then the van was returned. Vale doesn’t have much information – he didn’t know the men, he didn’t know where they were staying. In Farsi, Fatima tells Vale he needs to help them. He is in danger if he doesn’t cooperate. Vale mentions a friend named Ava who was threatened as well. She had to provide a place where the men could work. Callen wants Sam called in – this is a full team operation.

Joining Callen, Fatima and Rountree at an office park, Sam and the team are all wearing their kevlar with the big guns out. He thinks this assignment is easier than getting his father to behave. When Fatima asks how Raymond is doing, Sam replies he’s doing everything possible to make him crazy. The Admiral has had enough chit-chat – and Deeks isn’t even involved. Fatima and Rountree take one entrance, Sam and Callen take another. Shyla tells the team the building is owned by Ava Safari with only a 26% occupancy rate due to COVID. The terrorists are set-up on a vacant office floor. The Admiral considers them armed and they are dangerous since they have access to high end explosives. He warns them of booby traps. That doesn’t sit well with Deeks, who is dress as a fire marshal/inspector. “I’m not the bomb disposal guy.”

Deeks walks through one of the offices. It is empty though there is a cot and a lantern flashlight in an open area. He is approached by a man asking why Deeks is there. After saying he’s happy the place is rented again, Deeks claims to be LAFD there for the building’s monthly inspection. The man wants Deeks to leave and return the following day. Deeks explains he can’t do that. Deeks is walking ahead of the man, through the office. He is rambling about the inspecting the Nakatomi Plaza – nice “Die Hard” shoutout – and puts on soundproof headphones because he’s about to set off the building’s alarms. The man behind Deeks pulls out his gun. Kensi says “weapon” and takes out the man from an office building a healthy distance away. “Tango down.” Deeks seems surprised.

Callen and Sam join Deeks – “Nice shot honey,” Deeks calls to Kensi. He starts talking about having a BB right under his scalp from being shot by Darrel Dinkins. Sam mentioned the BB migrating to Deeks’s brain. An arriving Fatima and Rountree enjoy the show. Deeks tells Sam he missed him. “I bet you did.”

While Fatima sends the dead man’s prints to Ops, Callen has the dead man’s burner phone and wants to Shyla to check the contacts and any GPS info. Sam finds a Canadian passport for the dead man issued to Cyrus Karimain from Fort Erie, Ontario. It is likely a fake. Sam has four other passports for four other men. There may be an entire cell in Los Angeles.

Deeks find a trash pail full of shredded documents. One looks like a map but he could only figure it out if he was the Amazing Kreskin. Fatima doesn’t know who the Amazing Kreskin is. “That was before Google,” Sam tells her. Callen finds something and shows it to Sam. It is a symbol of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps’s staff college. The men in the office aren’t Hezbollah, they are Iranian special operatives who usually train proxies to fight, not do the fighting themselves. The Admiral knew this was state sponsored and is willing to bet his grandchildren that the drones that took out Soleimani was manufactured by Havlock/Haines. Shyla notes the Admiral doesn’t have grandchildren. “This team America, is payback.”

Tracing the location of the cellphone numbers in the dead man’s phone, they are all traveling on the PCH, just passing Malibu. While Deeks thinks they are surfers, Sam realizes they’re going to Point Magu. Point Magu is the home of the Triton drone project. The Admiral wants the team in helicopters on their way to the base in two minutes. When Shyla asks how, the Admiral doesn’t care – Coast Guard, National Guard, borrow a TV traffic helicopter.

At Point Magu’s entrance, a Bunny Vale Landry Van shoots its way past a guard station. The sole guard tries to fire on the men but is overwhelmed by four men with military weapons. Driving the van into the base, there are two barrel in the back with explosives. The men all exit the van before it plows into a trailer with a satellite on top. Since this is NCIS: Los Angeles, there is a massive explosion.

One of the men tries to enter a structure next to the structure that just was blown up. He has a keycard to get in but the door does not open. Callen comes out from the side of the structure and tells the man “nobody’s home.” The men are surrounded by Callen and Sam on the right, Kensi, Fatima and Rountree on their left and Deeks from the top of the structure. Behind the on the ground team is more armed Navy sailors. It was set-up as a kill box. Fatima starts ordering the men to surrender in Farsi. The men surrender. Deeks wonders how he is getting off the building – he asks Rountree to catch him.

Stepping away, Sam has a call from Mrs. Williams, his father’s caretaker. Raymond left the activity center without the caretaker. He instead left with a woman named Victoria. Callen is impressed – one day at the activity center and Raymond has a girlfriend. Callen thinks Sam could learn a little something from his father.

In the armory, Kensi, Deeks, Fatima and Rountree are dropping off their gear. Fatima thinks they should go out for drinks and Rountree should pay. This surprises Rountree until Fatima says she’s buying. Deeks offers to take everyone out to dinner if Rosa could join them. Kensi steps in – not on a school night. Deeks asks how is Rountree’s calculus. It is better than his algebra but it is not very good.

Pouring two glasses of scotch, the Admiral offers an arriving Callen a glass. Callen asks if he is going to need it. The Admiral thinks the longer Callen stays in their business, he will but he won’t need it today for Hetty “Not now anyway,” he tells Callen. The remains were of a female child, not Hetty. Callen asks why were Hetty’s IDs found on a dead child. The Admiral thinks Hetty planted them. Without the forensics the US military has, anyone who saw the remains and the ID thinks Hetty is dead. Thinking Hetty is in trouble – and the Admiral saying she was in the trouble the minute she went to Syria, Callen asks for permission to look for her. That’s a no from the Admiral. If they had actionable intel, they would go. Until then, Hetty is on her own.

Saying he has a lot of personal time, Callen is thinking of going anyway. The Admiral makes it clear LA just had foreign terrorists attack a building and a Naval Station so there will be no going halfway around the world “searching for your surrogate mommy.” Telling the Admiral to enjoy his scotch, Callen storms out. The Admiral drinks his own scotch and then Callen’s untouched glass, saying he intends to.

Not enjoying his scotch is Sam, sitting with a glass at his dining room table. Raymond sneaks in almost like a teenager caught by his parents. Sam asks where his father was. Raymond said he took Sam’s advice and made some friends. Sam thinks Raymond should have called. Raymond is sure he sent a text but he didn’t. This is every parent-child discussion about being out late with friends, just with the roles reversed. When Raymond says he’s not a child, Sam tells him he's acting like one. Yep, parent-child in reverse. Sam is angry that Raymond “hooked up with a woman on your first damn day. An angry Raymond talks about Victoria, who is married to Cliff, a bedridden veteran. After his time at the activity center, Raymond went to see Cliff, providing him such much needed company. Sam is instantly remorseful until Raymond makes it clear that he also provided Victoria some much needed company. Sam isn’t sure his father is joking as Raymond says good night.

They changed the fonts on the credits too.

What head canon can be formed from here: Sort of an update to the season 13 finale – Callen is looking at wedding venues, Sam is dealing with his father, Kensi and Deeks are taking Rosa to her first day of school. Family continues to play a big part.

Shyla is great with the team. She has a different relationship with Kilbride – more casual and fun than any of the team members.

Visiting the bombed out drone place had to be pretty brutal to Callen, who less than an hour earlier learned his “surrogate mommy” may have met her end in a similar action.

The Kensi and Deeks conversation about doing their jobs in the world we live in has been going on now since season eight. This was another variation of it with Kensi sounding a little more done this time.

The program used real events – the arrest of two Hezbollah terrorists, the bombing of Soleimani- to make the story go.

Episode number: Season 14 (a healthy run for any program), episode one. Episode 303 overall. These recaps will go up every Friday (save one in mid-March) until season 14 wraps.

#NCIS: Los Angeles Rewatch #NCIS: Los Angeles #NCIS Los Angeles #NCIS: LA #ncis la

[ouroandar]

FEBRUARY DWC 2024 DAY 4 - VENGEANCE

The Cleaner Part 4 tw: Mentions of murder, death, guns

Previous stories in this series: Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ouro paused what he was doing and glanced down at the message from Xylaes: 

‘Headed to Bilgewater in the AM, may be onto something. Gonna need some extra G for bribes’. Bilgewater made sense in some ways, but it would have been much too obvious in other ways. However, no one ever claimed that Rasen Cinderblade was a bright man, even if he had been extremely good at his previous profession. 

‘The Cleaner’

Most cartels and mobs had at least a few Cleaners on their payroll; people that were there to specifically clean up messes of all varieties. Typically that mess involved a dead body, whether it was to be completely disposed of or staged in a way to suggest that the deceased had perished in a different manner. Essentially, they cleaned up a crime scene.

Rasen Cinderblade happened to be there the night of The Hallow’s End Massacre. He wasn’t there to ‘clean’, there would be none of that since it was a loud and cruel statement that was to be made. Ouro had specifically remembered the expression on the man’s face as he fired gleefully into the large group filled with members of their warring cartel and a large number of innocents. As Ouro lay dying on the ground with a gunshot wound to the head, he could recall hearing the words ‘finally able to get some real action’. Disgusting.

As much as Ouro wanted to do all the legwork and hunt down every single one of those assholes himself, his schedule had grown busier over the years and his focus had to be elsewhere. He had to admit, having someone he could (sort of) put his trust in was actually…nice? It had been a while.

He knew anyone Pollux had recommended for the job would be trusted and discreet, but he had to run his own background check on Xylaes Qin’oril. The man had a serious past, and many parts of his public and even private records had been redacted. Had anyone else glanced at this, they would have immediately said ‘not a chance’, but not Ouro. He understood the overwhelming need for vengeance when he saw it. They were two sides of the same coin.

He sent back a message almost immediately: ‘Wired to your account, keep me updated.’ Then, he wired 500,000 gold to a private account he had specifically set up for Xylaes. He was well aware how business in Bilgewater worked, and the other man would need gold for other expenses as well. He had more than enough, and would never be hurting for money for the remainder of his life.

Anyways, if Xylaes decided to double-cross him, he would simply track him down and murder him. Given their common connection in Pollux, he doubted it would come to that.

@daily-writing-challenge @xylaes

#story #the list series #xylaes #ouro #dwc2024 #februarydwc2024

[fineiwillwritethismyself]

Every Little Movement (Travis x F!reader)

Author Message: Hey guys! Like you, I have been infected with the Ted Raimi virus thanks to The Quarry. So here is a little something something to help stimulate our fanbase. For mature audiences.

*It is Travisxreader, unnamed reader, reader is female, reader is a librarian, reader has a heart condition, strangers to lovers, older man/younger woman, smut, grumpy travis, soft travis, semi sick-fic, crying after sex, praise kink if you squint.

Here is the link for the Birthday Chapter:

Moving to North Kill was certainly never on her roster.  A city girl moving to a rural town way upstate was almost her personal hell.  Yet with the trauma and sadness her family constantly caused back home along with the vicious job setting at the bank she had worked at, she needed to escape.  Getting the one and only call back for a job as a librarian for said small town in her home state, was what she thought she needed; subconsciously of course.  That was the only way she said yes, something inside her told her to accept.  Her library degree was finally going to pay off!  

After being accepted, she did her fair share of research on the town.  Research detailing if it was safe, how populated it was, crime rate, etc.  She was excited to see that it was near Hackett’s Quarry.  A very popular summer camp when she was growing up.  However, last year, tragedy struck the Hackett family causing it to permanently close.  Rumor has it the entire family got wiped out from some unknown illness or attack.   

Driving the long hours through the state with all her belongs was not the most glamours way in moving.  However, it was the cheapest and the most practical.  As there was an hour left to the journey, her anxiety and excitement began to spike.  She was able to rent a duplex in the middle of town.  A sweet sounding elderly family lived in the right side of the house while they needed a nice, quiet tenant to help them cover their bills.  After the shut down in tourism from the quarry’s closure, it caused inflation to hit the poor residence and farmers of the town.  She was terribly nervous if she was making a horrible choice; moving into a house she never toured before along with people she never met in the backwoods of New York.  She also had no idea what to expect from her job.  It sounded as if she’d be the only one working there, as the hiring manager mentioned that the library was shut down due to lack of staff.  Would she be safe working into the night?  All alone?  She hoped they had law enforcement.  She remembered hearing there was a Hackett family member that was a cop, but she was unsure if he perished as well and or if they ever refilled that position.

Her heart started to beat hard in her chest and it tightened.  She gasped feeling the pain strike.  She slowed her driving to a crawl and began to take deep breaths.  Pulling over to the side of the road she closed her eyes and tried to calm her shaking body.  It’s all going to be fine.  Everything is going to be fine.  She tried to lie to herself and calm the frantic thoughts.  Her chest palpitations were a potentially non lethal condition passed down in her family.  She’ll be ok as long as she doesn’t stress so much.  However, her family caused her to be a constantly stressed and worrisome individual.  There was hardly a day she lived without stress.  

As she was breaking on the side of the road, she tried to calm her stressed nervous system.  Then a tap on her window caused her to scream.  Looking to her right and clutching her chest she saw that it was an officer.  His face was serious but it was startled at her reaction.  He made the motion to roll down the glass.

“I’m sorry to have scared you ma’am.  You’ve been pulled over for some time.  Is everything alright?”

Gazing at his face she noticed how the sun colored his dark eyes and shone through his black hair.  He had an intense, intimidating air about him with the stare to match.  Yet his tone wasn’t gruff just stern.

She nodded, “Yes I was just trying to get my bearings.  Can you tell me how far away I am from North Kill?”

His face bore a brief moment of shock, “North Kill?  Why would you…oh are you the new librarian?”

She nodded her head.

He shifted his weight and hung off the roof of the car, “Your only a half hour out from the town.  I’ll escort you the rest of the way.”

“Oh you don’t have to officer, I can manage-”

He continued, “Make sure to follow me closely.”  Ignoring her as he walked off.

She huffed.  Ok, now she had a cop snooping around and overbearingly taking her to town.  But one question was answered, they had a police force.  Rolling up her window she saw him pull out in front and drive slowly ahead.  Shifting into drive she followed closely behind.  Getting a good look at the back of the car she noticed it said ‘Sheriff’ on the trunk.  Her eyes widened, great she was being escorted by the sheriff.  This was either really good or really bad, depending on the impression she made on him.  She remarked how clean and pristine his uniform was.  If their uniforms were so well made, then North Kill couldn’t be that uncivilized and disheveled right?  

Thinking back to their encounter, he had quite the presence.  It shook her and captivated her mind.  He was very intimidating and she hoped she didn’t have to be on the end of that again.  Then a thought struck her causing her to groan.  Just how small was this town?  What if he was the only cop in town?   Would she constantly be bumping into him?  And what if she needed him to protect her at some point?  Oh boy she was in for it.

She wasn’t paying attention and had to break hard.  He was stopped at a stop sign and nearly rear-ended him.  She saw him look into his rearview mirror.  She raised her hands in a sorry gesture.  She noticed he shook his head before taking off again.  She gripped the wheel tight; yep, definitely a negative impression.  Following him around twists and turns she was actually thankful for the escort.  This many tiny side roads and sharp rights and lefts over cavernous drops was not what she was used to.  And to top it off, the thunderstorm brewing was not making it any easier.  She adored the fall and storms but not driving in them.

Pulling around a curve her eyes brightened.  North Kill.  The outskirts were greeting her as she drove in.  A small gas station with a few tiny houses and stores were lining the side.  Following in, she saw colorful small family homes mixed with stretches of farmland.  Forests lined the entire area on each side with rolling, treed hills in the distance.  As they drove she gawked at the small brick police department on her right.  That was where he worked no doubt.  Taking a right turn at a three way fork right past the station, they pulled around to a small rounded building.  It was close to the heart of town and within walking distance to the police.  He parked and so did she.  Hopping out she noticed that this was her library!  So close to town and so close to his work.  This was both a comfort and a curse.  

Walking past her car she met him as he stood near the entrance.

“This good for you?”  He asked.

She looked at the library then him, “Oh yes, this is great!  Thank you very much officer.  Er, let me correct myself, Sheriff!”

He gave a nod before turning and going back to the drivers side.  She felt she needed to show more gratitude.  His abrupt departure threw her off.

“Um, seriously I really am grateful!  I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you.  Since, I am the new girl in town and all.”  She gave a nervous smile and finished the sentence with the introduction of her name.

His face was still stern as he gave a curt nod and said, “Don’t mention it.  And it’s Hackett.”

Hackett!  Her face lit up in surprise.  He left her standing that way as he climbed into his car and sped off towards the station.  That was the surviving Hackett!  Another question answered.  Watching his car disappear down the bend she turned back at the building.  The rain had stopped momentarily but was about to pour down again any moment.  Getting a quick look she climbed back in her car.  It was a quaint building with grey stone and no edges.  Large windows surrounded the front and green beautiful trees and bushes decorated the perimeter.  Smiling she was satisfied.  This town looked more developed than what her nightmares projected.  Hearing another clap of thunder, she thought it was time to go check out her rental.  After all, her landlords were expecting her tonight.  Kicking the car back to life she headed off down the road to the left side of the library.

Passing beautiful neighborhoods she turned off and down to the right.  Riding down she saw this street held a series of one story duplexes.  It was a gorgeous street with clean cut grass and tidy homes.  Heading a bit further she found her house number on her right.  Glancing at the cookie-cutter duplex she saw brick looming behind her home.  She gasped.  The damn police station was looking over her back yard!  Was she just doomed to always be in Sheriff Hackett’s vicinity?  Also, how safe was it for being so close to imprisoned inmates?  Were there any in such a small town?  If there were then everyone would know she supposed, so it couldn’t be that bad.  Parking in the small lot, she hopped out and knocked on the right side’s door.  The lights were on so they had to be home.

“Hello?”  A short, adorable old woman with a cute pink apron appeared.

“Yes hi!  I am the tenant and new librarian.”  She said while introducing her name.

“Oh yes!  You’re early.  Did you have an ok time traveling?”

She nodded with a yawn, “It was long but, at the end there, Sheriff Hackett helped escort me to town.”

Her face bore surprise, “My that’s quite a bold offer of him.”

She titled her head, “How so?”

“He is very reclusive, even as our sheriff.  So hearing him offer such a generous thing as escorting a lady to town isn’t heard of.  Then again we don’t get many visitors now days and a cute young thing like you might be on his soft side.”

She blushed, “O-Oh well that’s good then…I think.”  This lady was adorable but a bit much right now.

“But where are my manners.  It’s raining out!  Come in dear, let us make you some tea!”

She smiled as she moved over the threshold.  Their home was just as cute as they were.  She came to find that her name was Margerie and her husband’s was Phil.  Phil looked like a mirror image of Margerie except he wore a grey sweater and black pants curled up in a rocking chair.  Their walls were full of pictures of grandkids and family along with paintings of flowers and farmland.  It was very warm to the point she was sweating.  But she didn’t mind it was cozy.  She felt very at ease and her anxiousness melted away as she watched Margerie make her tea and commence small town gossip.  

“And oh you should’ve seen Ms. Ruth’s slippers!  Poor things were chewed to bits by the Jones’ dog.”

She laughed politely as she took the tea that was handed to her.

As Margerie was sitting down she waved her hand, “But please ignore me.  I’m rambling on again.  Tell us about you dear!  You must have fascinating stories from that big city life you lived.”

She looked down with a thoughtful smile, “Yes, quite.  Very loud.  Very cold.  Very…lonely.”

Margerie’s face looked so sad, “Oh I didn’t mean to pry dear.”

She waved politely, “No please, it’s ok!  I came here for a change of pace.  For the better hopefully.  By getting this job I hope to settle down in a relaxed adorable town such as North Kill.  It might be the very thing my soul needs.”

“And settling down with a nice man maybe?  There’s plenty I can introduce you to.”  Margerie winked.

She blushed, “O-oh maybe later…but I do appreciate your offer.”

“So you work hard over there in the city?”  The gruff voice of Phil finally spoke up.

“Yes sir, I was a bank teller in one of the most chaotic parts.  I worked long and hard hours to really get nowhere.  Family was very unsupportive, so I chose the simple life.  Hopefully this library job isn’t as crazy as a major bank job in the middle of a work hub.”

He simply nodded with an approving grunt. 

She gave one more yawn and Margerie seemingly just noticed now just how tired she looked, “Oh dear we are keeping you up.  Look at us here, being old chatter boxes while you’re probably dead tired from your long trip.”  She got up and went to a kitchen drawer.  She produced something in her hand and walked over to her, “Here is your key.  We will pay your utilities as long as you keep up on your rent.  Sounds like a deal?”

She nodded with a big smile, “Yes!  Thank you so much!  I will do everything I can to repay your generosity and trust in me.  I’ll be the perfect tenant.”

Margerie smiled tenderly, “I don’t doubt that dear.”

As she stood up Margerie held out her arms.  With an approving nod they hugged.

Rubbing her back briefly she said, “Welcome to North Kill!”

“If the people here are just as sweet and kind as you two, then I’ll have no worries left.”  She said smiling down at them.

Breaking the hug Margerie held onto her arms with a smile, “Well most of us are, besides that grumpy Sheriff.  But, he means well.”  She gave a wink.

She blushed for some reason.  She turned to leave, flashing one last smile and gave a goodnight before making her way to the door.  Margerie walked her there and let her out.  With a final goodnight she turned to her right and unlocked her own door.  It was dark.  Fumbling for the light, she switched it on.  It mirrored Margerie and Phil’s side but without the massive amount of pictures and knitted blankets.  They had it furnished with a couch and a lounge chair.  She smiled, forgetting about the furnished part in the deal.  The kitchen looked clean and empty in the dark.  As she made her way to look at the bedroom she was delighted to see a nice queen sized bed sat in a near empty room.  Walking in and switching on the ceiling fan light, she saw that the bed was made and that there was a note on her pillow.

“Welcome!”  Was printed on the cover.  Opening it she gave a small chuckle as it was a brief heartwarming message left from Margerie greeting her and telling her that they were glad she was moving in.  Holding the card to her chest she sighed contentedly.  Her worries were melting away minute by minute.  The only thing left was the job itself.  And, she’ll soon find out tomorrow how good or bad that was going to be.

Undressing and falling asleep surprisingly quick, she slept a dreamless sleep.  

Waking early, she didn’t feel unrested but she did feel a bit out of place since it was her first night in a new home.  Shuffling to the bathroom she got a wonderful hot shower; washing off all the grime and stress from the drive over.  The warmth helped her sore legs and butt as she marinated under the steaming stream.  Hopping out she heard her phone ringing.  Running to it she saw it was a local number and answered.

“Yes hello?”

The woman on the other line asked her name and she confirmed it was her.

“Hello!  I’m just calling to make sure you made it to town safe.  I am Dorene your boss.”

She smiled, “Oh yes I have!  Nice to hear from you.”

“Wonderful.  When you come in I’ll be there to help show you the ropes and give you the keys.  After that, you should be all set to carry on the job.”

“Alright, sounds great.”

“Good, see you in a few.”

“See you then.”

They hung up and she sighed.  Alright, the boss didn’t sound so bad.  Getting dressed she hopped in her car and drove over.  It wasn’t a far drive at all, in fact once she felt comfortable, she probably could walk.  If she felt comfortable that was.  Pulling up and parking in the back, she ran around to the front doors and knocked.  She saw the glimpse of the inside as a woman, Dorene, saw her wave and came over to let her in.

“Hello!  Glad you are here.”  She sounded relieved, “Since I was the only one working we couldn’t open very often.  But since you are here it will make it much easier.”

She smiled politely at Dorene as she crossed into the library.  There was a large expanse between the doors and the wrap around front desk.  Behind it to the left were wooden shelves running around the circular building sectioned off with signs labeled with themes and categorizations.  She could see tables dotted throughout the shelves with low hanging lights dimly illuminating the rows.

“Well!  It shouldn’t be hard to get you to run this place by yourself.  I’ve made cheatsheets and notes in case you forget or need an answer.  And of course you can call me if you are stuck with something.”

She nodded, “Ok.”

Dorene turned to her and extended her hand, “Welcome to North Kill, it’s so nice to meet you.”

She shook it with a nod before Dorene brought her over to the circulation desk.  It was a few hours of learning the computer system and getting answers to typical procedures.  She was told of the extensions for the police as well as finding out where the panic button and escape routes were.  Eyeing the panic button she couldn’t help but imagine Sheriff Hackett running in all serious-like at the instance of an emergency.  She shuddered at the thought if she ever hit that thing by accident.  After a few more tiresome rundowns, Dorene was eager to hand her the keys and get out of there.

“Hours are 8am-5pm and this library does close on Fridays and weekends since we are such a small town.  If you ever need time off just let me know far in advance ok.  Ok have fun!”

Waving at Dorene’s immediate retreating form, she sighed.  So much for company.  Sitting in the comfy chair, she turned to look at the shelves, or stacks as Dorene called them.  Getting back up she thought it good to start and memorize where things were in case a patron needed to know where a certain book or section was.  Walking through the low light, she did find that it was a bit dark.  But, as she smiled at it, she found that the warm yellow light mixed nicely with the gunstock wood shelving.  It was terribly cozy; romantic even.  Glancing at her phone she saw that she was a few hours away from closing.  All that and not one patron today.  She shrugged.  She was fine with that. 

Heading back to the desk she saw the sky begin to darken.  It was a gorgeous view seeing the trees and hills in-between the convenience store that sat right across from her.  Being on the corner of the street helped give a bigger perspective of where she sat in town.

After another half hour or so she glanced back at that panic button.  It sat right under the desk and if she ever needed to scoot closer to the computer, she knew her thigh would hit it.  She closed her eyes and shook her head at the cringy thought of having to explain that she caused a false alarm to the intimidating Sheriff.   Suddenly, movement caught her eye out the doors.  It was the devil himself.  His cop car sat directly in front and she saw the door open and close as he got out.  Her breath hitched.  She didn’t hit the button somehow, right?  Her mind didn’t just do that?  He swiftly moved through the double doors and she stood to greet him.

“Evening Sheriff!”

He gave a small smirk, “I see they left you with the reigns to this place already.”

She nodded shyly.

“This is my last stop on my evening patrol.  Mind if I..?”  He gave a head tilt towards the shelves and she picked up on it a beat too late.

“Oh!  Yes of course!  Do what you need to Sheriff.”

He gave a nod as he began to walk around the library.  She watched his form as he disappeared in the stacks.  He was tall and the uniform really did wonders on him.  Hell it does wonders on any man.  But, something about him tickled the back of her mind.  She couldn’t quite shake what she was feeling.  She knew she was feeling intimated and nervous since he was a cop after all.  A very stern cop at that.  But there was something else causing her heart to flutter.  Fluttering dangerously fast.  Before she caused another episode with her heart she turned away and sat back down.  She refrained from staring at him until he crossed her line of sight again.

“All secure, have a good night ma’am.”

“Likewise Sheriff Hackett!”

He paused at his name before giving a nod and leaving.  She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as she watched him get into his car.  The sky was nearly fully dark as she saw his headlights switch on.  As quickly as he came he drove off.  Her gaze watched the doors for the rest of the evening.  She remembered his greeting and that he even smirked.  It was nice to see that.  A change in his face that was.  

The rest of the time went by.  She didn’t realize she just spent hours thinking about Sheriff Hackett.  Hours studying the images in her head of his face and his walk.  Hours of remembering the timber of his voice.  Shaking her head and scolding herself, she began to turn off the lights; lock up the money; shut off the computer; and lock the doors.

The drive home was just as brisk as it was to work.  She was surprised she wasn’t accosted by Margerie in wondering how her first day went.  They were probably waiting for her to sleep and to bother her tomorrow evening.  They did have some restraint then.  She was grateful as she was indeed tired.  Stripping down she was glad to be free and comfortable in her own space.  She felt a little uncomfortable being nude in such a new place but there was absolutely no one around.  

Heading to the bathroom her mind thought of Sheriff Hackett again.  She had the instinct to cover her breasts and pussy.  His eyes bored into her mind.  Why was she thinking about him this much?  Why did she feel the need to cover up if he wasn’t here?   And why did her heart flutter again at the thought if he did catch her like this.  What the actual fuck was she thinking?  Shaking her head she just went to the bedroom and forced herself to turn off.  She needed sleep.  Too much happened and he was the last human interaction she had.  That was it.  That was all.

Meanwhile her dreams were nothing but flashes of the Sheriff.  She would dream a rut of dreams of him patrolling her work or about his smirk or about his eyes.  She got up to use the bathroom and desperately tried to change the course of her dreams.  She thought about the town, her landlords, her trauma, anything!  Heading back to bed she sighed and quickly fell back to sleep.  But to her dismay, the same dreams stuck with her all night.

…

Waking up with a groan, she felt horrible.  It felt as if she was fighting all night.  And in a way she was.  Rolling out of bed she went to get a shower.  A shower will solve many problems.  Hopping into the hot stream she felt at ease and relaxed.  With the water to her back she closed her eyes and rested her head against the cool tiles.  She smiled feeling the heat sear her flesh deliciously.  She felt it warm her shoulders, down her back, and legs.  It felt so warm, like a hug.  It engulfed her and and she felt comforted.  

As her mind drifted in and out of snoozing and wakefulness, the water soon morphed into hands.  She felt hands at her back and sides where the water caressed.  The hands were attached to strong arms with a lean build.  She smiled.  She didn’t mind where this was going.  A hunk sharing her shower?  She’d never turn that thought away.  As the feeling kept on she saw the person’s face buried in her neck.  She smiled more.  That was, until the face moved away revealing that it was Sheriff Hackett.  She opened her eyes and yelped.  Absolutely fucking not!  What the shit brain?  She felt nothing towards that man besides intimidation and a light wave of fear.  Why the hell was he on her mind so much?  Especially in the shower like this?  Turning the water to cold she blasted herself as punishment.  Soon after, she stepped out shivering in the frigid fall morning.  Definitely a mistake but, she felt momentarily better for it.

Getting dressed she made sure to go shopping after work.  But as for breakfast, she was going to try the local diner and grab a small thing before heading to work.  A donut and a coffee sounded heavenly right now.  Running a comb through her hair, she gathered her things and headed out to the nearby diner.  She looked out and across the street.  She could practically see it from where she stood, so she decided to walk over and get a feel for the town’s atmosphere.  Walking along she shook her head unable to believe she just thought what she just thought.  Of all things and of all places and of all people, why was it him that her mind lasered in on?  Looking up she decided to distract herself with the trees and pretty fall sky full of clouds.  She sighed happily as a breeze ruffled her damp hair.  The dead leaves rustled pleasantly underfoot.  Autumn was the best.

Arriving much too soon, she took a deep breath before entering.  People were here.  She was surprised to see so many people here.  And said people all looked up at her.  She gulped harshly.  She didn’t expect that.  Then a wonderful voice saved the situation

“Oh!  You’re the new librarian!  Come and have some coffee, on us!”  

After that, everyone gave her a smile and went back to whatever it was they were doing.  The woman at the counter was thin and in her middle age.  She had a great smile and beautiful grey brown hair tied into a messy bun.

“Name’s Gail dear!  Pleasure to meet you!”  She extended her hand.

She returned in and gave her own name.  She took the iron grip of Gail’s handshake like a champ.

“Well what would you like?  It’s all on the house today.”

“Oh I could never Gail-”

Gail waved her hands, “Nonsense!  Consider it a hearty welcome!”

“Well I’d like a latte with a donut please.”

“Sure what kind?”

“Um you got vanilla cream?”

“Of course we do darling!”  She leaned back and shouted, “Dale!  Get me a #3 with milk and a #7 with cream!”

The boom of her voice startled her but she chuckled as Gail gave her a smile.  Breaking the moment was the sound of the door opening and closing behind her.

“Ah Sheriff!  The usual I assume?”  Gail asked.

She didn’t turn around but froze.  Come on… He stepped up right beside her.  He was terribly close and she could practically smell his cologne and the aftershave on him.

“If you will Gail, it be appreciated.”

“Of course. Dale!  Get Sheriff Hackett’s usual!”

There was a faint, “Got it” from behind the doors before Gail smiled at the two and moved to clear off the bar.

She looked tentatively at his profile.  She couldn’t help but stare, what with her steamy shower thought still fresh in her mind.  He picked up on it as he slowly looked over at her.  She blushed.

“Ah, uh, we keep running into each other.”  She stammered.

“It’s a small town.  Tends to happen.” 

She nodded, “Right, yes of course.”

Gail had turned around and vanished to the back leaving her completely alone with the Sheriff.  She felt so awkward and the blush worsened against her will.  She felt the urge to say something but didn’t know how to.  As she opened her mouth to mention the weather, Gail came back with two cups and a bag.  Her mind screamed thank-yous at her.

“Your latte and donut, darling.  And your usual coffee, Sheriff.”  She handed them out at the same time.

As she reached for her cup, for a split second, her fingers brushed the side of his hand.  He definitely noticed but didn’t acknowledge.  He just paused slightly before grabbing his.  She on the other hand felt it all.  She felt time itself stop.

“Thanks Gail.”  He said before raising the cup and taking a sip.  He turned around to leave.

“Have a good day now Sheriff.”  Gail said.

He gave a nod and a glance back, “You too and you as well.”  He said looking her over before leaving.

She gave a squeak as she watched him leave before turning back to Gail.

“You ok darling?  Your face is all red.”

“O-Oh is it now?  I guess it’s from the cold.”

Gail gave a suspicious nod.

“Well thank you again Gail!  It was so nice to meet you!  I’ll be sure to come here often!”

She gave a smile and a wave, “Please do!  We love company.”

With a nod she turned out the door and began to walk to work automatically.  What just happened there?  She replayed the entire scene over again in her mind.  The brief warmth of his hand, his cologne, his aftershave, the farewell.  Why was her mind ablaze?  Why did she care so much?  There was no way she was crushing on this man already.  Give her one brooding man in a uniform and she was smitten apparently.  Was that it?  She sighed exasperatedly as she made her way to unlock the library doors.  

As she unlocked the front and turned on the first lights she stopped.  Did she just walk to work?  She sighed and scolded herself again.  Now she’ll have to walk home in the dark.  A fleeting thought crossed her mind in asking Sheriff Hackett for another escort but she shook her head.  That was silly, it was only a few minutes away.  Surely it wouldn’t be a hassle to walk back.  Switching on the table lights and getting the money out while booting up the computer, she was ready to go. 

It seemed like another slow day until some hours later when a group of teens walked in.  They were laughing and loud as they approached the desk.

“Hello what can I help you with?”  She asked.

They stopped and some of the boys noticed her.  She guessed they weren’t expecting anyone else besides old Dorene.

“Yeah we got research papers to do.”  One said.

She smiled, “Alright have at it.  Let me know if you need any help.”

They shuffled passed with their volume slowly rising again.  Some boys were still staring.  She chuckled and shook her head as she sat back down.  They were a very rowdy bunch.  After what was nearly an hour, she leaned over to see what mess they made.  It was quite the pile of books and she noticed little reading.  Sighing she shrugged, it was her job after all.  She didn’t mind the change from the quiet day that was yesterday anyway.  

A girl came over to the desk, “Hey miss, I can’t find a certain subject.”

She perked up and slid her chair next to the computer, “Alright what were you looking for!”

As she was typing through the catalogue to help find the subject, one of their friends called out that they found it.  They gave a shy look at her before thanking her and running back over.  She chuckled as she sat and continued to type on the computer.  She was going to get a little more familiar with the section numbers and how to look up certain books and items.  

Soon after, the bunch began to leave the library.  Some thanked her on the way out while some stared and others ignored her.  Smiling at them as they left, she glanced over at their table.  Wow that sure was a lot of books.  Turning back she noticed it was getting dark outside again.  Only an hour to go now.  Bringing her attention back to her computer she didn’t notice the red and blue lights coming up and flashing outside the doors.  Hearing the door open and some one run in she looked up.

“Sheriff Hackett!  Pleasant as always.  I assume you’re here for your patrol?”

He was slightly out of breath with a panicked expression, “What?  No you pressed your panic button.”

“I did…”  She looked down at her thigh which was pressed up hard against that button.  Her face turned a bright shade of red.  Looking back up at him she noticed that his lights were on in his parked patrol car.

“Well.  What’s the problem?”  He asked with a hint of impatience.

“I…I accidentally pressed it.  I…didn’t mean to.  I’m terribly sorry.”

He gave her a look then rolled his jaw.  Glancing down and then back up she could clearly tell he his patience was gone.

“So you wasted my time is what happened.”

“N-No I didn’t mean to.”  She stood.

“Look, I know you come from the big city with lots of action.  You might assume there is nothing for me to do here in such a small town but run in at false alarms.  Well, you’re dead wrong.”

Tears began to sting her eyes and her heart began to speed up painfully.

“Next time be careful.  I will let you off with a warning, but know I won’t be so fair if you do it again!  Understood?”

She had trouble breathing and the words didn’t come.  All she did was nod before turning away to clutch her chest.  She just needed to get away from this moment.  She needed to calm down.

“Are you alright?”  He asked.

She nodded as she bent over trying to shield herself from his eyes and to stop the pain.  But she heard his footsteps coming closer.  Her eyes were screwed shut.  She just wished he went away.

“Hey.”  His voice was at her back.

And she felt that she was going to pass out.  She felt herself move forward but hands caught her.  Her eyes flew open feeling one on the center of her back and one on the center of her chest.

“Easy now.”

He slowly brought her back up and she allowed it.  Her hand was still clutching her chest as her arms shook.  She felt his hand on hers as he held her chest.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I have a heart thing.  It can get triggered with stress.  I’ll be fine.”  She gasped.

She didn’t see, but his face softened and had a guilty expression wash over his features.   He was so close.  So terribly close.  She could feel his chest brush against her back.  Her heart sped up faster smelling his cologne.  His warm hands feeling intoxicating to her.

“Ok listen to me.  Completely clear your mind and breathe deep and slow.”  He said. His voice was a soft rumble.

Her anxiety wanted to spike further.  Her embarrassment wanted to kill her.  But she had a choice to make: continue to freak out and risk passing out or listen to him and cause her body to go into a failsafe state and shut down.  She chose the latter.  Closing her eyes she stood straight and took a huge gulp of air in.  Exhaling, she could feel her body relax.

“That’s it.” He muttered.

She repeated the inhale and just listened to his voice and his own breathing.  Her mind barred off any thoughts.  Her emotions were numbed and she felt her heart begin to slow down.  She felt her chest loosen.

“Good girl.”  He whispered.

A blush slapped her in the face and her mind began to spike again, but she forced everything to shut down.  She’ll just have to remember it at a later, more calmer time.  A few more breaths later and she felt calm.  She then was remade aware of his hands that remained on her chest and back and touching her hand.  A slight blush tinged her face.

“Are you good?”

She nodded, “Yes…thank you.” She wasn’t looking at him.

She felt exhausted.  She barely had any energy left to stand.  Turning to him his face bore shock.

“You look awful!  I mean awful as in sick not as in you.  You don’t look awful…” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, how are you feeling?”

“I’m out of the woods I’d say, just really tired now.”

He gave a nod.

“I’m sorry to have wasted more of your time Sheriff.  And I should be getting things closed up anyway.”

She glanced at him as he shifted his weight and looked down for a moment.  Looking back up at her, his face was still stern but his eyes looked sad.

“I’ll help.  Consider it an apology for my attitude.”

He walked past her without hearing any reply or retort.  She watched him begin to pick up and look at the books on the desk.  A small smile crept on her face and she went to aid him.  She huffed looking at not one nor two but three piles of books those kids left.  Shaking her head, she gathered a few that went together and turned to slide them back in on their respective shelves.  A sound from him caused her to turn around.

“You ok?”

“Yeah just…how the hell do you know which goes where?”

A smile grew and her lips quivered in the effort to hide her laugh.  Biting her lip she approached his side.  He had a book in his left hand and a small pile in his right.  He looked at her and lowered the book to her eye level.  She tilted it in his hand to look at the spine label.

“So it goes alphabetically, then numerically, then by date.”

He nodded.  He moved to put the book on the shelf below, but in the process, their hands briefly touched.  She closed her eyes to take the sudden shock and he seemingly ignored it.  Composing herself she turned and put back her pile.  It took them a few minutes to get them all put away.  Once that was done she walked around to turn off the desk lamps.  He sauntered out towards the doors.  She followed him to the desk and put the cash away and shut down the computer.  Looking up she saw he was waiting for her.

“Oh you don’t have to wait up for me Sheriff.”

He just stood and looked at her.  Getting the hint, she grabbed her purse and sped walked on her way out.  Turning off the final light before locking up she joined him on the sidewalk.

“Thanks for helping out and sorry again.  See you tomorrow I suppose.”

He gave a curt nod before turning back to his car.  He turned back once he noticed her walking down the path instead of towards the parking lot.

“Don’t you have a vehicle?”

She turned quickly, both hands clutching her purse strap, “Oh, yes!  I kind of forgot to bring it.”

He turned fully to her with a look, “You forgot your car?”

She nodded, the blush hidden in the dark, “Y-Yeah.  I walked over to the cafe and didn’t think about it as I just autopiloted to work.”

He looked down and sighed, “Come on.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He looked at her, “I’ll take you home.  Come on.”

“Oh I live just around the corner you don’t have to-”

“Consider it part of my-”

“Apology.”  She finished with a grin.

He looked down with a smile as well, “Yeah.”

She walked over biting her bottom lip, smiling like crazy.  She jogged up to the passenger side and hopped in.  She told him to turn down the street to the left and to drive for a minute before her place was on the right.  

As he pulled up she turned and said, “Thank you again for helping me.  How did you know how to calm me down?  I-If you don’t mind me asking.”

He looked at her then bowed his head, “In her old age my mother developed a heart complication.  Being her eldest son I had to make sure I took care of her, along with everyone else.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry.”

He shifted in his seat and sniffed, “Don’t worry about it.  This your home?”

Glancing back and then to him she nodded, “Yes!  I live on the other side of Margerie and Phil.  And funny enough, you can see the police station just behind.”

He leaned over and squinted.  Sitting back he had a smile, “That you can.”

Unbuckling her seatbelt she said, “Thank you again Sheriff.  I’ll be seeing you tomorrow evening!”

He nodded, “It’s Travis.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Travis.”

She blushed, “Oh…Travis.  It suits you very well.  Um, I’d offer to let you in for a coffee or something but I forgot to go shopping.”

“That’s appreciated but I need to get back to the precinct.” He gave a nod.

She gave a nod back and opened the door.  Margerie was coming out of her side of the house.  Her face was full of concern.  As she stood and closed the car door, Margerie reached her hands out to her.

 “Are you alright dear?”

She nodded with a smile, “Yes!  Sheriff Hackett was making sure I got home safe.  I forgot to drive this morning as I just walked to the diner before work.”

“Oh how sweet.”  She leaned over and gave a wave at Travis.  He gave a small wave back before pulling out and driving off.

She turned back to Margerie, “I hate to ask but I forgot to go shopping, do you mind if I have dinner with you and Phil tonight?”

Margerie’s face lit up, “Oh of course!  We were just about to sit down to my meatloaf.  I’ve been meaning to chat with you on how your first few days were going.”

She gave a chuckle, “I’ll be glad to, thank you so much!”

She was pulled into the beautiful warmth of Margerie’s home yet again.  She was set with a hearty helping of meat and potatoes with a side of cornbread.  Meatloaf wasn’t her meal of choice but it was heavenly!  Margerie knew how to cook.  She let them know how uneventful her day was yesterday.  Today though, she had one group of teens looking for research for their paper and made a huge mess.  

“And I accidentally pressed the panic button.”

“Oh no, Sheriff Hackett wasn’t too hard on you was he?”

She dipped her head, “At first yes but upon seeing me have an…episode, his whole demeanor changed.”

“Episode dear?”

She nodded, “Yea I have a light heart condition caused by stress.  When he made clear how upset he was it triggered some palpitations.”

“I swear that man has no sense about him!  Scaring a poor young girl like yourself-”

She stopped her, “Well he helped calm me down and gave me some breathing exercises.  He made sure I was ok.  And afterwards he helped clean up and then drove me home.”  She ended it with a blush.

Margerie was floored, “Well bless my stars, that isn’t very common of him.”

“R-Really?”

She nodded, “He conducts himself as a gentleman but he is all edges.  To hear how careful he was with you tonight right after being upset is a nice change of pace.”

She blushed, “Oh.  Say Margerie can you tell me more about him?”

“Have an interest in him dear?”  She gave her a wink.

“I uh, well, uh I-”

“Don’t fluster the poor girl Marg.”

“Oh it’s all in fun Phil.  Well, from what we know his family was wiped out a year ago.  What caused that, we have no clue.  Some say a terrible virus took them.  Others say it was the Hag of Hackett’s Quarry.”

“The Hag of Hackett’s Quarry?”

Margerie nodded, “Yes the Hag of Hackett’s Quarry.  It’s a ghost story where 7 years ago a traveling circus came and burnt up nearby.  Rumor has it the woman had a wolf boy child who escaped while she died in the fire.  Stories say she haunts the woods looking for her lost son.”

“Oh…”

“Now to me that’s a load of bull!  I say they either drank themselves to death with their whiskey mine or they shot each other in a frenzied hunting state.”

“So Travis is the only surviving Hackett?”

Margery gave a devilish smirk, “Travis?  He gave you his name?”

She squeaked, “Um…yes?”

Margerie chuckled then continued, “He was the only one to survive and does not talk about his family.  Of course there are rumors that he was the one to take them out.  But, we had an official investigation performed by outside agents and they cleared his name.”

“How terribly tragic.”

“It is dear.  And from what you’ve told me it sounds as if he does indeed have a soft spot for you.”  She got up, taking the plate in her hands and added, “Maybe you can replenish the Hackett family tree.”

“Margerie!”  She yelped.

Phil started laughing.

Margery shrugged, “What?  I’m a sucker for happy endings, can you blame me?”

She laughed along with them; blush burning her face, hand hiding her mouth.  Was it obvious?  Was it that obvious?  Day two and she was smitten for the Sheriff.  And…what if this news gets around!

“Um well…if this was true what you said about me and Travis it would be appreciated for no rumors to be spread…I feel he’d be a bit skittish when it comes to personal gossip.”

“Oh you’re right dear.  Well, I will do everything in my power to keep these old lips sealed.  I am not guaranteeing anything but I will make an effort.”

“Thank you.  I highly doubt though, if I was interested, that he’d be interested back.  I think I’ve made myself look quite the fool in front of him.”

“Never say never dear.”  She said as she was cleaning the dishes.

Getting up from the table she came by Margerie and asked if she could help, to which, she happily accepted.  After cleaning up and being loaded with leftovers, she was sent on her way happy and full.

“See you later dear.  And if any new ‘development’ between you and Sheriff Hackett blooms, let me be the first to know!”

She blushed, “Ah, I shall.”

Unlocking her door she turned on the light and sighed.  Home and alone.  Storing the food in the fridge she went to the couch and sat down.  Holy shit there was so much to unpack from today.  First off, she remembered how angry Travis got with her over the alarm thing.  Her fears had come true about his reaction.  Then his strong hands came around her in a a complete 360 of events.   They held her steady and felt just amazing.  She grew hot remembering the sensation on her chest.  Her head spun remembering the smell of his cologne.  She felt wet at the memory.  But what sent her over was his voice.  His rumbling calm and directing voice in her ear.  She remembered how their hands touched and how he smiled when taking her home.  And of course him giving his name.  Looking down she felt terribly horny.  She knew she was under his spell.  She needed a to go to bed and sleep it off.  Maybe she’ll feel different in the morning.

Lying in bed she tossed and turned.  Her mind was ablaze for Travis.  His image and words kept flashing in her head depriving her of real sleep.  Once she shifted and settled down though, a long and spicy dream overtook her subconscious.  She was in her bed and the lamp was on.  Looking down at the foot of her bed she saw Travis standing there, shirtless.  She gasped as his cold stare swept over her.  He began to move and climb on top of her.  As he got closer she saw that his cold stare was ladened with emotion.  It brimmed with unspoken words.  It looked tender.  

“Travis?”  She whispered.

He looked at her face then her lips and before she knew it he kissed her.   She closed her eyes feeling the world spin.  His hands were brought to the sides of her head.  They gripped the bed underneath and she felt the totality of his body on hers.  He leaned in and she could feel his hard dick pressing at her entrance.  She moved her legs aside and he slid in without effort.  He broke the kiss to look down at her.  He moved very slow and he gave breathy, near silent moans as he did.  She moaned long and low feeling him fill her.  It was soft and slow and tender and even sweet.  The thought ‘was she dreaming’ crossed her mind and in a blink she woke back up.  Sitting up, she hung her head.  What a sexy nightmare.

She felt like a zombie walking into the shower.  With that dream, she had caused for an even harder time sleeping.  Turning the water on cold, she blasted her nerves to force herself awake.  Drying her hair she deemed it good enough and got dressed.  Grabbing her car keys she was sure to not forget it this time.  The morning was dark and cold as she swung into the diner’s parking lot.  Running in for warmth she was greeted with much of the same scene as yesterday.

“Hey there, darling!  Is everything ok?”

She was confused as she approached the counter, “I’m fine why?”

“Sheriff Hackett was running into the library last night with the lights flashing.”

She hung her head, “Oh that, well I accidentally pressed the panic button.”

“Ooo not a good move.  How grumpy was he?”

“Let’s see, on a level of one to Hackett, I’d say Hackett.”

Gail laughed, “What can I get you this time?”

“An espresso and a nice warm bagel please.”

“Sounds good.  Dale!!  A #4 and a #13 hot!”

“Ok!”  Was faintly heard from the back.

The door chimed behind her again and she feared to turn around.

“Morning Sheriff!”

Yup it was him.

“Morning.”  He grumbled.

He stood by her again and her body flushed.  Her spicy dream ran in her mind and she thought her legs were going to give out.  He looked over at her and his face showed concern for a second.

“You ok today?”

She nodded and tried to act cool by throwing in a smile, “Yeah just tired.  Didn’t sleep well, ya know.”

He nodded and looked back, “The usual Gail.”

Gail nodded, noting an odd air between them before shouting out the order back at Dale.

“Everything alright between the two of you?”  She asked.

They glanced at each other with surprise before looking back at Gail.

“Yes?”  She responded.

Gail squinted before going back into the kitchen and grabbing the orders.  She looked at his profile again and fidgeted with her hands.  He was side eyeing her, noticing her nerves.  He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t get so nervous ok?  We can’t have what happened yesterday happen again.”

“Oh yes…I will try.”

Gail entered back in and came to a halt seeing this.  A smile crept on her face, “My this surely is interesting.  You don’t make many friends there Sheriff Hackett!   Way to go girl.”

“I don’t know what you mean Gail.”  He said as he took his coffee.  Turning away to leave, he touched her shoulder again, “I’ll see you when I’m on patrol.”

She turned bright red.  If Margerie wasn’t going to spill the beans Gail surely was going to after that.  

“Here you are darling.  Now tell me, is anything happening between you and the Sheriff?”

She shook her head, “No not really.  I…I don’t know why he is being so sweet with me.  Maybe I’ve made a fool of myself one too many times and he pities me.”

Gail had a mischievous glint in her eye but didn’t say anything.  She paid for her breakfast and waved goodbye before heading back out into the cold.  Bringing the car to life she swung it over to work.  

The days from then on were as average as possible.  One or two people would come in, make small talk, greet her, and leave.  Travis would make his evening patrol as per usual.  Margerie would try and pry into any new info but she sadly had none to give.  Though, she was getting looks at the diner whenever Travis entered.  Gail was positively spreading rumors at this point.  But, she honestly didn’t mind.  Would it be so bad if she was seen together with Travis?  Would it be bad for them to be a couple?  The words Margerie mentioned that night at dinner about regrowing the Hackett family tree flittered through her mind.  She blushed with a smile.  She wouldn’t be opposed to it.

Her first week went by.  She had three days to herself on the weekend.  They were terribly quiet and lonesome.  Though, she did enjoy it after such a busy week.  Yet she figured it would get too lonesome come time she got used to everything.  She wondered what Travis did on the weekends.  She felt sad, figuring he was at home alone too.  He was terribly reclusive and she wished he was a bit more social.  That way he could be looked after by friends in town.  Though, having such a family trauma would definitely isolate you.  Her heart ached for him.  

When would she make a move?  It didn’t need to be soon, she was only there a week after all.  Things like these take months to develop right?  Sometimes yes and sometimes no.  Her parents mentioned they had love at first sight while her sister took months for her to come around to a guy who had a crush on her.  There is no formula for this.  If she liked him she liked him end of story.  Sighing, she became nervous.  She didn’t think she had it in her to confess.  Not if she wanted to survive that was.

Another week went by and she noticed a change with Travis.  He’d show up sometime in the afternoon and then again during his patrol.  He claimed he wanted to make sure she was healthy and well, being as she was the only one in the building.  She wanted to see something more in it but dared not to vocalize it.  

During that Friday a nasty storm rolled in.  It was rainy and windy going into work that morning.  Come noon, it picked up considerably.  The wind howled and whistled and the trees slapped the outer walls and doors of the library.  She loved storms but was feeling unnerved with this one.  Mainly because she was at work and not safely tucked away at home.  The thunder made her jump and the lightening sounded terribly close.  Getting up to look out the window, a loud clap sounded right above her head causing her to yelp.  With another rolling in right after, it knocked the power out.  Her breathing increased and her fear shot up.  She was now alone in a dark building in the middle of the storm.

Travis was running around the town like mad making sure the locals were safe and inside during the storm.  Once the power went out, he sped around to the local businesses to make sure they were alright as well.   After popping in the grocery store then making sure Gail and Dale were secure, he looked towards the library.  A panic rose in his chest.  He wondered if she was safe and calm.  Booking it to his car he turned on the lights and sped off.

She was a bit frantic in the dark.  Should she lock the doors?  Should she hide?  If she felt more secure here it probably wouldn’t be a problem but, being it was only her second week, her imagination ran rampant.  She just wanted to go home and curl up in bed listening to the rain pound outside her window; feeling the safe strong arms of Travis around her.  Pacing the library, she didn’t hear the doors swing open.  Travis rushed in drenched and frantically looking around for her.  He called her name but got no response.  A pit rose in his stomach and he began to search the library.  She didn’t hear him as he approached, her heart and her fear pounded too loud in her head.  Walking between the stacks and out in to the space between, she bumped into something.  It grabbed onto her and she screamed.  She screamed and cried as the grip tightened.

“Sh, sh, hey it’s me!”

“Travis?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t breathe.”  A slight hint of panic rose in her tone.

“Just inhale deeply.  Remember what I told you, clear your mind.”

She felt him at her front.  She was face to face with his chest but couldn’t see him.  She felt his arms around her back and smelt his cologne again.  Closing her eyes she drank him in.  He was here and holding her, whispering soothing words into her ear.  She leaned into him and felt herself begin to calm.  

“That’s it, relax.  I’m here.  You’re safe now.”

She breathed in again and again, feeling her body slow down.  She thought for a moment that she could fall asleep this way.

“That’s it, good girl.”

She snuggled into his chest and as she did the lights flickered back on.  Opening her eyes she peered around but dared not move.  She could now see the dark of his fabric at her face.  She saw his arms wrap around and disappear behind her back.

“Travis?”

“Yes.”  He said softly.

She raised her head to look at him.  His dark eyes were looking tenderly down at her and her heart skipped a beat.

“You came for me?”

He swallowed harshly, “I needed to make sure you were ok.”

“Oh…how sweet.”

A paused settled between them as they looked at each other.  His breathing was still a little ragged from all the excitement.  His eyes looked glazed over but still held their sternness.  He was so close to her.  Her body was practically melting into his fame.

“Travis?”  She asked again, breaking the silence.

He didn’t say anything but leaned in closer.  Their eyes locked and danced between them and their lips.  And in the next moment they kissed.  It was soft and chaste.  They both felt that, if they weren’t careful, this illusion would break.  His lips were soft against hers.  His cologne crashed down hard into her senses as she felt him kiss her.   His hands shifted up her back and into her hair.  She brought hers up his chest and around his neck.  He felt strong and what he was doing caused her head to spin.  He was the one to deepen the kiss.  Her mouth opened without resistance and his tongue slid in to meet hers.  He tasted like the outside rain mixed with tinges of coffee.  She slid her hands up from his neck into his hair.  She felt his grip tighten around her as they devoured one another.  He pulled away breathless as he looked at her.  

“We should take this somewhere else.”  He said.

“I agree.  Let me go check the computer and text Dorene about leaving.”

She went to move but his grip pulled her back in for one more brief kiss before he let her go.  She smiled dumbstruck as she walked away.  He followed closely after.  Switching on the computer she found that there wasn’t any internet service.

“Yeah no service.  Good, more of an excuse to go home early.”

“I’ll help you close up.”  His usual tone was now a mix between stern and desperation.  

She couldn’t believe what just happened.  He was here and just kissed her silly.  She chuckled as she watched him run to turn off all the desk lights.  The new fire lit under him was so endearing to see.  She put the money away and threw Dorene a text about no wifi and wanting to get home for safety.  Coming back to the desk her phone buzzed with a confirmation to go home.  Dorene figured no one was going to come out anyway in this storm.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”  She said.

Travis rushed to her side and kissed her again.  She smiled as his lips met hers.  Breaking away he held onto her arm as he walked them out the doors.  She turned to switch off the last lights and he let her go to allow her to lock up.  When she turned to face him again he kissed her once more.

Breaking away she said, “I’ll meet you at my place?”

He gave a nod as he ran to his car and she did the same.  The sky was terribly dark and the rain pelted down hard.  She bolted to her car, missing the cover of the library awning.  Unlocking her door and sliding in she turned the vehicle on.  Turning on her brights she pulled out and down towards the street.  He waited for her to be in front as she began to turn down the road.  Fortunately it was just a straight shot home in just a few minutes.  She pulled into the parking lot and he did right behind her.  Turning off the car she ran out to unlock the door.  As she was doing so he ran to meet her.  Throwing open the door Travis grabbed hold of her and turned her to him.  He kicked the door closed as his lips met hers again.

“Let’s get out of these wet clothes hm?”  She said with a mischievous smile.

He nodded.  His face held something between awe and pure adoration.  It nearly broke her seeing such a powerful look come through those dark eyes.  She quickly tossed off her shirt and he was in the process of taking off his utility belt.  He carefully laid it on her kitchen’s bar before unbuttoning and peeling off his wet uniform.  She watched him become undressed and her mouth watered.  His bare chest was muscular and lean.  His thighs were just as strong and shapely.  Once he was down to his boxers he moved over to her.  Her bra and panties covering the last bit of her as well.  His hand slid down her sides and he pulled her into his chest.  She kissed him as her hands slid up to his pecs.

Breaking away he asked, “Bedroom?”

She jerked her head to the left indicating where it was.  In an instant he hoisted her up and carried her to the room.  Once there, he threw her down and climbed on top.  It almost mimicked her dream.  She reached a hand over to turn on her lamp.  She wanted to make sure she saw everything.  Every emotion that flittered on his face.  Every physical movement as he made love to her.   His body was cold and clammy from the drenched clothes, but in the process of being so close to her it began to warm up.  Hers did the same.   Lifting himself off he looked down at her.

“Are you sure you want this?”

She gazed at him, “I really do.”

“With me?”

“Travis what do you mean?”

He glanced down then into her eyes, “I’m an old, grumpy cop.  I’m not a pleasant man.  Not to mention I have serious baggage that you might never know the full extent of.”

She was silent for a moment and he looked away.  She brought a hand to his face to turn him back to look at her. 

“Travis Hackett I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since we met on the road.  I’ve dreamt about you just like this to the point I couldn’t sleep.  I know you’re all edges and aren’t the nicest man, but I’m still here!  I want you.  All of you Travis.”

His eyes looked like they flooded with tears.  Turning to kiss her hand he said, “I thought it was too late for me to find happiness.  It always eluded me.  But you’re here and you’re real.”

She smiled, “I am.”

He kissed her.  He kissed her and shifted to take off his boxers.  Her eyes flew wide and she hurried to take off her bra and shimmy out of her panties.  She looked down to catch a glimpse of his cock.  It was long and thick.  Her legs quivered, aching to be filled.  His lips moved down her neck to her breasts.  They latched onto her left nipple.  She gasped and arched as he sucked and rolled it between his teeth gently.  

“T-Travis!”

He hummed as he continued to suck at her breast. Her legs kicked and trembled.  She opened them wide, ready and waiting for him.  He let go and raised up.  He lined himself at her wet pussy and slowly entered in.  She moaned as he gave one as well.  He was slow as he slid his dick all the way inside.  

Once hilted he asked, “Are you ok?”

She arched her back, “Y-Yes, please, fuck me!”

He smirked and rested his face at the crook of her neck.  He continued to move slow, dragging in and out lazily.  His breathing became heavy.  He closed his eyes and began to make soft, cute moans in her ear.  Her mouth gaped open.  She couldn’t believe this was still happening.  He felt so perfect inside her.  He stretched her a tiny bit but just enough to not hurt.  He raised himself back up and began to quicken the pace.  

He was over her.  His hands still firmly planted at the sides of her head.  She wrapped her hands around his forearms.  They locked eyes.  His were no longer dark and stern.  They were full of love, care, and sadness.  Hers were glazing over with how good she was feeling.  

“You’re so lovely.  So sweet.  You’re such a good girl.”  He groaned.

Her breath hitched and she felt herself cum then and there.  She screamed and gasped as he quickened his pace.  Feeling her contract around him and grow even wetter was sending him over the edge.

“Oh Travis!  You’re a good man, my good man.”

His voice caught in his throat.  His breath came out ragged as he gazed down at her.  The words crashed over him in a heightened sense of love and pain.  In the next moment he felt himself about to cum.

“I should pull out.”  He panted.

“Don’t!”  And she wrapped her legs around his waist, “I don’t mind.”

Looking in her eyes for one moment, he screwed them shut as he came.  He moaned and cried out from the intensity.  He thrusted deep and slow until his movements stopped.  As his body stilled he remained over her, panting.  She was breathing hard and glistening with sweat.  Her hair was splayed out under her and she looked at him.  She was absolutely gorgeous.  Feeling over come, he kissed her.  As he kissed her, he couldn’t help the tears from falling.

“Oh Travis, are you ok?”

He nodded but couldn’t look her in the eye.  

“Come here.”

She enfolded him in her arms.  His face rested on her neck and hair.  His body began to shudder.

“I’m sorry.”  He choked out.

“Sh, don’t be, let it out.”  She hummed.

He cried.  The emotions he held back for so long: sadness, anger, resentment, fear, loneliness, and now love; all came crashing down.  She held him as he laid on her, still inside of her.  She stroked his strong, lean back as he wept at her neck.  It was such a tender and heartbreaking moment.  One she never foresaw coming.  After a few moments more he raised himself and climbed off of her.  He moved to sit at the edge of the bed.  He hung his head.  She sat up to hold him.

“Are you alright?”  She asked.

He shook his head not meeting her gaze, “I’m sorry.  Crying after sex is quite the turn off.  I just…”

She turned his face to look at her, “Don’t be sorry or embarrassed.  I couldn’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

His gaze swept over her for moment before he asked, “How much do you know?”

“All I know is that your family died tragically around you.  I can’t even begin to express my sorrow.”

“Well, one day I’ll probably share the story with you.  But now’s not the time.”  He turned to look into her eyes.  He saw nothing but love and concern.  He almost couldn’t bear it, “After this display, you aren’t repulsed?”

She shook her head and looked confused, “Why would I be?  All I see is a broken man.  One who is overdue for happiness.  One that I think I’ll come to love very quickly.”

His breathing shuddered as he studied her face.  There wasn’t a hint of deception or humor in her tone or features.  Tears brimmed in his eyes again as he kissed her.  He kissed her soft and sweet.  He never wanted to let her go.

Breaking the kiss she smiled, “Now let’s go shower.”

He took her hand and she touched his face before she brought him to the bathroom.  She turned the water on and waited for it to heat up.  As they did he held her to him.  Their warm, sweaty bodies pressed together.  She snuggled her head in his chest.  Feeling the steam rise from behind her, she turned and moved to hop in; holding his hand to pull him along. 

The heat surrounded the two as they embraced in the shower.  It was just like what she daydreamed about.  His hands held her as her back was flush with his front.  His hands ran up and down her body.  She closed her eyes and he brought his lips to her neck.  

She smiled and hummed, “I’ve imagined this exact scenario.”

He smirked against her skin, “Wow, you really wanted me from the start.”

She blushed, “I-I mean what can I say?  You're very handsome.  Ah!”  She felt him lightly bite her neck.

She leaned into him as he kissed and sucked, marking her as is.  He wanted to show the town she was his and only his.  Let them talk.  They remained that way for awhile.  Soon they turned to clean one another.  They slowly slid the soap up and down each other, savoring the other’s body.  Near the end the, water was turning cold so they jumped out.  While drying off, a knock on the door sounded.

“I’ll go get that.”  She said.

Exiting the bathroom she wrapped her robe around her tightly.  Opening the door, it revealed Margerie.

“Is everything alright dear?  I was worried about the storm and when I looked I saw your car and Sheriff Hackett’s in the lot.”

She glanced back and turned sideways in the doorframe.  Margerie followed the line of sight to see Travis standing in the hall with a towel wrapped around his waist and another slung around his shoulders.

Margerie gasped, “Good heavens, hello Sheriff!”

He gave a nod.

She turned back to Margerie with a smile, “Well I guess what you said about the Hackett family tree will be true.”

Margerie floundered for words.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”  She said with a wink as she closed the door.  Turning back she saw Travis huff and look down with a smile.

“Guess it’ll be all over town now.”  

She smiled, “I guess so.”

She crossed the room to get to him.  The smile that played on his face made her feel giddy.  She kissed him, yanking on the towel to pull him in.  He gave a surprised moan as her lips crashed onto his.  

The following days in town held a different buzz.  Margerie told Ms. Ruth who told the Jones’s next door which in turn made its way to Gail which confirmed her rumors.  Soon everyone knew about their relationship.  Travis never mentioned it but he was worried if the town would disapprove; what with his mysterious family history and his age.  But the dirty looks never came.  He would get smiles on the street and pats on the back expressing how happy they were for him.  Getting all this positive attention affected his attitude and soon he was smiling just a bit more.

Meanwhile she was getting all the girl talk from Margerie and Gail.  They wanted all the juicy details about Travis and how he treated her.  She would never reveal too much, but made it clear he was terribly sweet and gentle with her.  He was incredibly patient and kind.  This set an even more positive outlook for Travis as women gave him stares and winks.  He wasn’t sure how to take this new attention so he’d just nod back and be on his way.

Months and months passed and the love grew between the two.  They were virtually inseparable.  They continued to have unprotected sex since she wouldn’t mind if she got pregnant.  He desperately wanted to be a father so he never argued.  Children were just around the corner for them.

In time their wedding would be small yet full of meaning.  The entire town would be there.  Her family was invited but seeing as they were a few hours away it was ‘too much of a hassle’ to come.  Phil gave her away as Margerie acted as the mother of the bride.  The entire town celebrated late into the night.  Travis never felt so loved, even when his family was alive.  And she felt the same.  She never felt so at peace.  Their relationship was the thing to inspire and rejuvenate the lonely depressed town.

#travis hackett #ted raimi #sheriff hackett #smut #the quarry #fanfic #romance #fandom #sick fic #travis x reader #unnamed reader #praise #soft #grumpy #tender #travis hackett x reader #Reader has heart condition #Reader is a librarian #older man younger woman

[genshrineimpact]

oh the little scenario you wrote about young morax and goddess of war!reader was lovely, and because i'm a sap and can't handle angst well i imagined that we retired along with him and didn't perish at some point in liyue history. and i'm gonna submit some seperate headcanons to add on as well !

it's been years since we fought alongside him and commanded an army, the last time more than likely being when celestia destroyed khaenriah and abyss monsters invaded all of teyvat. despite both being gods there was still the slight fear that neither would return. luckily they both did and they were clinging to each other for days after all that had happened.

every year when rex lapis would descend for the rite of descension to give guidance to the people of liyue for economic prosperity, goddess of war!reader would bless the liyue millelith during lantern rite (alongside morax if you'd like), so soldiers would always return home, victorious from battle.

in the game's lore, zhongli is connected to the entire liyue weapon series (the unforged, summit shaper, etc), and some people added on that we gifted him a polearm while courting each other, well what if later on after their marriage we had helped him forge vortex vanquisher his weapon of choice in the present? i think it'd have more personal meaning for him to choose that specific weapon out of any he had wielded when he was still the geo archon. he could have just left it somewhere no one would ever dare get it, maybe entrusted it to cloud retainer to hold on to in her abode or any of the other adepti, but that's the weapon you both forged and no one could ever pry it out of his hands.

and finally, very serious discussions between the two of them when zhongli started contemplating stepping down as the geo archon. a hushed conversation that carried on until the first rays of sunlight were peaking over the mountains and the agreement to go through with it. you may or may not have agreed completely on him giving his gnosis to the tsaritsa but you trusted zhongli completely, so you let him do what he see fit. now when time allows it you both wander the entirety of liyue together, sometimes conversing and other times in silence. the both of you have mellowed out since your younger days but the love you feel for each other is just as strong as it was thousands of years ago.

every now and then the older folk of liyue will make comments to the two of you, mainly of how you both remind them of their marriages when they were younger, but every now and then there'll be a passing comment that likens your mortal forms to morax and goddess of war!reader when liyue was just a settlement and they bring up how they were in love just as the two of you currently are.

also hu tao def knows who you are despite your mortal identity since the lore implies that she knows zhongli is morax, and she absolutely adores the both of you

cries these are lovely!!!!!! i saw this last night before bed but i had to sleep but i was so so so giddy wanting to answer this hskdjskdj the struggle of a working adult ugh

i get you, i crave angst on certain times but the need to consume fluff is always on 24/7 ;w;

⬙⤠ masterlist ⤝⬙

you're both just tired after all the things you experienced and so you both decided to focus on building a safe haven for yourselves. with morax's vast knowledge and the fact that your name is enough of an intimidation to deter hostile parties, you both tirelessly scour over the lands of liyue, looking for the perfect place to settle.

you then remember your first date at the beach and shyly suggests to find somewhere close to the sea. morax immediately agrees because he can see that having a harbor city would be very profitable and make for a strong economy. plus, with both you and him watching over the city along with your troops, the risk of invaders should be kept to a minimum. and that's how liyue harbor started <3

also i'd imagine that your own adeptis would personally go down and spar with the millelith regularly! if they take a liking to a soldier, they might even give their blessings! (ofc your blessings are worth even more but they're significantly rarer) they're used to this routine back when they served you in the war, and it's the reason why your troops are stronger than most.... wait now i'm thinking about xiao bonding with your adeptis, maybe even developing a relationship with one??? oh no the brainrot.... it's consuming me aaaa

so, while morax is focused on prospering your people, teaching them knowledges and blueprints and introducing the concept of mora, you're making sure the city is safe both from external forces or internal disputes. it's a good combination and it works well!

i like the concept of vortex vanquisher being a special weapon to zhongli because you helped him create it!! a specially made weapon, just for him, suited to his preferences and aesthetics, crafted from the most precious materials you have in store, and blessed by you personally. he has it at all times with him and will never under any circumstances part hands from it!

i think you would be very understanding of his reasons for stepping down as an archon. though you might not be an archon yourself, you are still a very powerful god, enough to rival one who owns a gnosis, you daresay. though you were scared at first, you slowly realize that you share the same sentiment as him. the times have become peaceful, the mortals you thought you need to protect has acquired enough power and knowledge to protect themselves, and you've successfully built a city that's the envy of the other nations. so when morax asks what do you wish to do, you tell him that you will be with him every step of the way.

and so in the rite of descension, two mythical beasts fall, his exuvia and your chosen form of appearance wrapped around each other. in sickness and health, in war and peace, in death and afterlife. together, inseparable. is what the elders would say as they mourn over your passings.

both of you might have grown from eating rocks boiled in hot water (well, you eat them on your anniversaries for old times' sake), and you might have stopped giving each other ridiculous things like deer heads, chalice of blood, or pretty seashells (though even if you do the gifted would laugh and accept it happily, much to the gifter's amusement), and you might have moved on from loudly pining over each other (your adeptis and retainers and friends are happy but sometimes they feel that it's a little lonesome, not hearing one of you gush about the other)....

.... but as you walk down the streets of liyue in your mortal form, with your mortal husband's hand against your back and his lovely voice telling you about your adopted daughter hu tao's latest shenanigans at the funeral parlor today... you think you love him more than ever, right here, right now.

together, inseparable.

© genshrineimpact | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated - it's the least you could do as a reader on tumblr. remember, likes do nothing on this website! feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #god of war! reader au #rin writes #rin answers #kanojous #welcome to the blog btw!! happy to have you here #yay more friends to brainrot with <3 <3 <3

[kanerallels]

A little late, but finally, here are my thoughts about MSATD 4x06!

Absolutely LOVE the way it started. Because of course these two would wind up being chased around an abandoned factory by a guy Eliza DRUGGED THIS IS THE THIRD TIME SHE'S POISONED SOMEONE AND I LOVE HER FOR IT

"I used to box for County Harwick" "does that mean something?" "IT MEANS QUITE A LOT" absolutely PERISHING it reminds me of that post about the person who pretended not to know what Harvard was

(also from a writing perspective I loooooooooooove the vibes of just throwing us into the middle/end of a case, showing us that they've been working on quite a few cases together! Plus it's just a fun way of writing things)

I'm very proud of Eliza for working with a large staff well and being able to handle things on her own!

UGH FITZROY'S JERK DAD SHOWED UP I HATE THAT GUY

Okay this was probably my favorite case of the season. The suspense, the way it handled Fitzroy's struggle over being given that promotion, and the culmination was *chef's kiss*

I read this post about how Eliza's allegiance is to the truth, while Nash's isn't to money, but to the memory and legacy of his brother and this episode DEFINITELY hammered that point home! The scene where he was struggling with whether or not to kill that guy? SO well done, Felix Scott has got mad skills

(also while I am not a Patrick x Eliza shipper.... from an objective point of view they had some GOOD moments in this episode)

(I mean come on. "you're the only one who's ever believed in me"? Him putting down the gun for her and only shooting O'Driscoll when he tried to kill Eliza? Those are some pretty immaculate vibes. I'm still ride or die for Williza, but I can see where the Patrick x Eliza shippers are coming from)

(okay and the moment in Patrick's cell where he said that he wanted her to believe he was a good person and she said that would never happen (affectionate), but then he said "Perhaps not. But I'll keep trying anyways"? Giving SERIOUS Rose In Bloom vibes. If you know, you know)

ANYWAYS BACK TO THE PLOT I also really really really LOVED the last scene between Fitzroy and his father. He stood up to him!! And told him that he didn't care if he was disappointed in him!! And the fact that he might not have a lot of ambition wasn't painted as a bad thing!! I LOVED IT A LOT OKAY

Oh also I didn't really like Phelps taking William's place at first, but the idea's grown on me a lot in this past episode. I liked the part where he basically told Fitzroy that he shouldn't be doing this job to get a pat on the back-- while I get where my boy Fitzroy was coming from, and Phelps is definitely a lot harsher than I approve of, it reminded me of a scene in The Rookie. And therefore gets a pass. I also liked the way it showed that Fitzroy and Phelps are at their best when they're working together!

Oh and! I liked the moment where Eliza and Mr. Potts were talking and she finally elected to be honest with him, and that's what won him over. EXCELLENT scene, I really liked it

(also I loved how Fitztroy, when he was Stressed, rubbed his hand over his face like William does. These are the things I obsessively notice. I have issues)

And then I REALLY liked the ending. The whole "Eliza goes to work for Nash" plotline has never been my absolute favorite. It just doesn't feel super true to who she is-- instead of being the only female detective in the city, she's a female detective working under Nash. And while I did enjoy their partnership more than I expected, I'm so glad to see her back in her own office, where she belongs. And she finally changed the name at the top of the sign!!

(and OBVIOUSLY I loved the William flashback at the end)

So overall, this was a really fun season!! Even though I was sad to not have William for the last two episodes, they were still really fun. Eliza and Patrick have great chemistry together on screen, and they're a really fun duo to watch!

Also, even those I missed Moses a LOT, I enjoyed some of the new characters-- namely, Clarence-- and the focus on some of the old ones, like Fitzroy and Phelps!!

And I DEFINITELY can't wait for the next season

#msatd #msatd spoilers #msatd s4 #miss scarlet and the duke #eliza scarlet #william wellington #patrick nash #not gonna lie to y'all i'm a little nervous for this next season #mainly because of the whole romance side of things #but overall i'm excited to see what happens next!

[askkirbnfriens]

Hi everybody! Unfortunately finals season is upon me, so asks are going to go on hiatus for a while. However, I have some GSA refs to post in the meantime! So sorry for the wait! ^^;

Anyways, from left to right, here's Tristan, Iseult, Dinadan and Palamedes!

As always, more info below the cut! :]

Tristan (he/him) - A starfolk warrior with a past shrouded in mystery. He works primarily as a spy and informant, and uses a bow and arrow on the battlefield. Tristan is quick to crack a joke, and rarely takes himself or others seriously. He can be serious if the situation demands it, but he's prone to provoking fights and quite impulsive. He's also quite musically inclined, and can often be found singing or playing instruments when he's not working.

Iseult (she/her) - A Waddle Dee who was separated from her family by a demon beast attack at a young age and raised by a family of starfolk. She serves as a medic in the GSA. Bubbly and mischievous, but very dedicated to her work. Much more outspoken than the average Waddle Dee due to being raised alongside the other Star Warriors. One of the best medics in the GSA. She and Tristan perished in the same battle during the war.

Dinadan (he/they) - A traveling bard who joined the GSA for a place to stay. He serves on communication lines, gathering and organizing information from informants, and sometimes works as a spy. Tristan's childhood friend. Often sarcastic and generally cynical, and likes to make a mockery out of anything that bothers him. If there's a practical joke going on in the GSA, he's usually involved somehow, whether that means being the one playing it or the one being pranked. However, he can be serious if need be, and cares deeply about his friends. Dinadan perishes a little while after Tristan and Iseult do, an unfortunate victim of Yamikage and Agravaine's betrayal.

Palamedes (he/him) - A traveler from a small planet toward the edge of Gamble Galaxy. He has great hunting and tracking skills, and works in forensics as well. The most serious and level-headed out of this group of four, but has his own bit of a mischievous streak. Tends to be the butt of jokes within the group, but doesn't tend to play any jokes himself. Generally soft-spoken and slow to anger, except over his friends getting hurt, and some other more silly things. Palamedes survives the war and takes over Dinadan's work of overseeing communications until Nightmare's first defeat, when he retires back to his home planet.

#not ask #riddle's fcs #galaxy soldier army #gsa kirby #tristan (oc) #iseult (oc) #dinadan (oc) #palamedes (oc)

[pocket-ozwynn]

Offline Valor: Chapter 1

[Borrower!AU]

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Word Count: 3324

CW: Adult language, blood, injury, brief animal attack

Zelly’s skin crawled as she stared with absolute horror.

The skull was melting, the warnings were stark and bold, and the scorpion-infested bone left a lot to be desired…

Zelly set her jaw, steeled her nerves…then shot a dramatic look towards the camera. She held that accusatory glare before leaning back and laughing nervously, “You guys suuuuuuuuuuuck. Do I REALLY have to do this?”

Zelly pursed her lips as she turned over the coffin-shaped box in her hand. The print on the lid–the melted skull with scorpions crawling over the cranium–was a perfect caricature of just how awful this was going to be. Zelly squinted as she read the warnings. There wasn’t much to say other than ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO EAT THIS CHIP. 

The Hot Chip Challenge was the infamous, unholy love child of the Carolina Reaper Pepper and the Scorpion Pepper–two of the hottest peppers in the world–into a single chip. Streamers far braver and far more popular than Zelly had taken this challenge with far less persuasion needed, and they had utterly crumpled under the heat of this Scoville scale-breaking abomination. 

Zelly was TERRIFIED, but she was a woman of her word. Her livestream audience had crushed the ridiculously high donation goal she had set for them in a matter of days, and their reward was watching their favorite livestreamer eat this chip and surely perish. Suddenly Zelly wished she had a will written out. She cursed under her breath as she worked to pry off the lid. Her fingers trembled as she struggled.

“I don’t LOVE the branding,” Zelly admitted as she finally popped off the lid. “I dunno about you, but I personally try to avoid eating things that say hi! I want to kill you.”

Zelly’s gaze flitted off to the side to read the scrolling chat while she prolonged her eventual agony. They were eating this up. She couldn’t keep up reading any of the comments beyond seeing streams of emojis, laughter, and glimpses of inside jokes.

Despite how much trepidation she felt, Zelly smiled.

Zelly set the sealed chip off to the side and slipped on some latex gloves. She shook her head in disbelief as she stared at the thing as if it was a coiled viper. “Look, I didn’t think this was actually possible! I set that donation reward ridiculously high NOT THINKING you would actually hit it!”

Zelly swallowed and picked up the chip once more. “I guess I underestimated how much pain you guys wanna see me in, ya’ buncha sickos…”

She cracked a crooked smile to mask some of her fear before ripping off the corner of the chip’s container. Zelly went to make a witty comment…then gagged as she caught a whiff of the contents. The Hot Chip smelled like rancid vinegar, feet, and mildew all wrapped up in a single, triangular snack of death. Her sinuses were scorched and shriveled in an instant, and she had only just opened it.

Zelly coughed and sputtered through pained laughter as she slowly reached in and pulled out the jet black chip. Her eyes widened as she regarded this monstrosity.

“Oh noooooooo…” Zelly lamented quietly, the fear feeling far more genuine now that she was holding it between her fingers and could actually smell Suffering. The chat was going wild. “No no no, you…you can’t be seriou-...it’s CAKED on there! What the hellllll…”

Zelly puffed out her cheeks and slowly exhaled as she tried to summon what courage she could. She gave a wistful look towards the camera before raising the chip.

“Well, Chat,” Zelly said, as if raising a toast at her own funeral. “This is for you. Cheers.”

And with that, Zelly tipped the chip towards the camera as if clinking a champagne flute. She then closed her eyes, tossed it onto her tongue…

…and bit down.

Zelly frowned as she started to chew. She cracked open one eye. Huh. Maybe it was a dud? Sure there was a bit of heat, but nothing terrible.

“Oh, that wasn’t so ba-” Zelly choked on her words as pain gripped her taste buds.

She immediately screamed and fell out of her chair in a panic before scrambling to her feet and running for the door. Chat silently howled with glee as they could hear her yelling all the way down the hall as she bolted for the kitchen.

What a way to start the day.

—

Everyone agreed that the Hot Chip Challenge had been the highlight of the stream. And while Zelly had fun the rest of the time and she’d been able to play a few rounds of Apex Legends with Takua and Cybertooth, she couldn’t help but feel a bit sad.

Zelly screwed up her face as she mulled over that feeling. Nothing prompted it, nothing triggered it, it was just…there. It had been there for a couple of days now, though the feeling ebbed and flowed. It wasn’t hard for her to know why she was sad, but it wasn’t something she was willing to admit it still bothered her.

A lack of closure does screwy things to the heart, that’s all.

Zelly sighed as she finally finished up the backend work of her post-stream. She typed out a quick message to one of her mods before pushing away from her desk and making her way to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help take her mind off of things? 

Unfortunately for Zelly, the shower proved to be dreadfully mediocre.

Despite it being the height of summer, Zelly cranked up the water as high as she could and just…sat there. She gently pressed her eyes against her knees as she pulled herself into a ball, her lips still stinging from lingering pain. The shower water cascaded off her and crashed around her rhythmically; her deep, wistful breaths invited plentiful steam into her lungs with hopes of granting some degree of peace.

But it never came. The once-comforting heat did little to ease the gnawing of her heart.

“Alright, leeeeeet’s go…” Zelly murmured to herself as she raised her head. She spat a quiet curse as some of her soaked locks slapped her in the face like strands of wet bubblegum. She let out the longest groan she could muster before combing her hair back and carefully rising to step out of the shower. 

As Zelly dried off and wrapped her hair in a towel, she felt her heart start to wander a bit. It wasn’t like she was thinking about what happened with Oakley; it was the feelings that still lingered. The good, the bad, the blissful, the painful…it was a hungry feeling that demanded not just mere offerings of acknowledgment, but craved absolute attention. 

It honestly was exhausting how much it still hurt.

Zelly lost track of time as she got ready. Apparently somewhere along the way she decided that Starbucks was going to be “dinner” tonight. Man could not live on caramel cookie bar frap alone, but Zelly always knew that bit of ambrosia helped her to at least have a bit of a joy in her heart between now and her next therapy session. But Zelly didn’t necessarily want to be alone, so she sent Nikol a text to see if she wanted to tag along.

She got her reply from Nikol right after she had slipped into a new tank top and her favorite pair of denim shorts. The text was straight forward: oh hell yeah. Zelly smiled and tapped out a response of her own before doing a little bit of makeup. Nothing too crazy, but just enough for a bit of a confidence boost.

After striking a silly pose in the mirror, she headed out of the bathroom. She slid into some sandals, threw on a pair of cute sunglasses, and grabbed her purse making her way down the stairs and out the front door.

Zelly poked around on her phone a bit as she bounced down the steps and moved down the driveway. The only movement she saw was her pink hair bobbing out of the corners of her eyes, and some subtle movement by her car.

Zelly looked up curiously, then beamed as she spied the neighbor’s cat Chu Chu out by the driver’s side of her car. 

“Oh hiiiii, Chu Chu,” Zelly cooed sweetly to the neighbor’s cat as she approached. Chu Chu didn’t respond at first. She bowed her head down, made a low yowl, then picked something up in her teeth and shook it about violently. 

Zelly’s stomach flipped as she realized what the cat was doing. Chu Chu was prone to eating poor baby animals, and she really liked dropping off whatever she wanted to “share” with Zelly. 

“CHU CHU, NO!!!” Zelly screamed. Chu Chu started and shot across the lawn like a bullet. 

“Dumb cat…” Zelly murmured with the shake of her head as she watched Chu Chu run. She loved that cat, but the last thing Zelly needed today was seeing some poor bird getting eaten right in front of her.

For better or worse, the cat didn’t take her dinner with and had unceremoniously dropped the small dark form on the driveway right next to the car door. Thankfully she saw no blood, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still hurt or possibly dead.

“God…” Zelly whispered sadly. Her heart broke as she considered what to do for the injured animal. 

She crept a little closer. From her distance, it was a bit hard to make out what it was at first… All she could really see was blacks and browns. Maybe it was some sort of crow chick? No, the proportions didn’t look right and it didn’t seem to have wings. Zelly squinted behind her tinted lenses. 

She stopped when she saw the animal had a hand sticking out. Was it a mouse? Or was it just a toy, and Zelly had been overreacting?

“Weirrrrd…what the hell is this?” Zelly murmured as she pulled off her glasses and leaned down to get a bit of a better look, her shadow falling over the prone form.

Then, without warning, the tiny form pushed itself up onto an elbow–their head snapping up to stare at her through strands of dark hair that fell over their face.

Definitely not a mouse or a toy then.

This was a man.

Zelly screamed instinctively as she threw a hand up over her mouth. She took a panicked step back and braced herself against her car with her free hand.

“What the hell what the hell what the hell…” she whimpered to herself as she just stared down at him. Her mind was reeling. What was she looking at exactly?

The miniature man had 3-day scruff, sunken eyes, and sunburnt skin that was glistening with sweat and slightly peeling. His chest heaved as he swallowed deep gulps of air, his entire frame just shuddering with each labored breath. Was it from adrenaline? Fear? Pain?

And he was small. He was so incomprehensibly small that Zelly could barely wrap her mind around it. He was 2, maybe 3 inches tall? It was hard to tell. No Human being should be that tiny…but then again, maybe he wasn’t Human. Who's to say?

Zelly was not a tall girl by any means, but she felt utterly enormous at this moment. To him, she probably looked terrifying. Without really thinking, she quickly squatted down to seem less intimidating, but the movement only seemed to startle the man further–he scooted back, his lips curling into a snarl as he pulled something from his boot with his free hand…

It was a yellow thumbtack. Though at his size, it looked like it could easily be a dagger. And with the way he held it in front of him, it seemed to imply that was its intended use.

It dawned on Zelly how a “colossal creature” moving suddenly and without warning might have looked to the man. She mentally chastised herself for acting without thinking. Zelly slowly raised her hands to indicate she meant no ill intent…though she wasn’t quite sure that kind of gesture would translate for him.

“H-Hey, easy,” Zelly stammered. She tried to keep her voice soft and calm, but that was incredibly difficult. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The man stared up at her. He propped himself up a bit more, as if trying to get ready to run if Zelly proved hostile. This was a standoff, with Zelly wanting him to make the next move lest she startle him again. 

While she wasn’t sure what he was exactly, she could tell he was perhaps some kind of elf in his mid-20’s. And despite the blistering weather he was wrapped in a mishmash of black and burgundy leathers and had a dark cloak draped over his shoulders. The cloak had a familiar frill along the edges–it almost reminded her of one of those soft cloths you use to clean glasses.

He had long dark hair that looked like it had been done up in a bun once, but now it was partially down thanks to the tangle with Chu Chu.

Zelly searched his face. It was bizarre how many details she could make out, despite the size of his face and the distance there was between them. She could see pain…and fear…but was that fear because of Chu Chu? Or because of Zelly? The thought that anyone could be afraid of her was shocking, and perhaps even a little unnerving.

But there was a third thing Zelly could pick out as well: defiance.

This miniature man was looking defiantly up at her, despite the obvious pain and fear. She noticed the way his jaw was set and his nostrils flared as he blinked through the pain. He looked like he was willing to stare Death in the eye.

Did…did this man think that she was going to hurt him? Or worse?

Zelly realized how dry her throat felt. She swallowed and licked her lips before carefully and quietly asking, “Are you okay?”

A new emotion flickered across his face…confusion. He hesitated as he slightly furrowed his brow.

Then he spoke.

“I…never thought a Titan would care about the well-being of a Borrower,” the man admitted. His voice was rich, and ever so slightly clipped with the faintest of accents. He also sounded exhausted.

By all accounts, his voice should have been so small that Zelly wouldn’t have been able to hear him speak…and yet she did. She almost felt his words. She wasn’t sure if it was magic (god, was magic actually real?) or her own misunderstanding of how this being’s physiology might work compared to a person of her size. Regardless, Zelly could absolutely hear this man’s somber reply.

“Borrower? Titan?” Zelly made a face at the terminology. “You think I’m a-” 

She cut herself off and shook her head. 

“…not important,” Zelly told herself, then looked back down at the little man. “Are you okay?”

Zelly stopped as realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She felt sick to her stomach.

“Wait, oh my GOD,” Zelly yelled as she grabbed fistfuls of hair. Her eyes widening as reality started to sink in. “Chu Chu nearly ate you alive! Th-...That was YOU!! In her mouth!! Holy shi-”

“A terrifying creature indeed.” The man nodded in solemn agreement. 

“How are you so calm about this?!” Zelly gawked in disbelief. Why was she the one that seemed more freaked out by this than the man who nearly been eaten?

The Borrower went to reply as he readjusted his positioning, but was cut off as his face twisted in pain. Zelly’s anxiety melted into concern as she watched him raise an inquisitive hand to his chest. He pressed against the leather and winced slightly at the contact. When he drew back his band, Zelly noticed it glistened with fresh blood.

Zelly’s hand went out instinctively, but when she saw the way the man braced himself at the approach of her fingers, she stopped immediately.

Maybe it was old Hippocractic embers rekindling in her heart, or maybe it was the “Oakley Situation” feelings being so raw and present…but regardless of the reasoning, she knew she couldn’t just let this man bleed out.

“You’re hurt,” Zelly pointed out with a certain firmness that belied her utter bewilderment. She wanted to scoop him up and run him inside, but a part of her cringed inwardly at the thought. She needed his consent. Zelly wasn’t just going to pick up a random stranger–little or not–without making sure that was even remotely okay for her to do. 

“It is j-just a little blood,” the man replied weakly. Zelly watched as the man started to fade, his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep his head up. “Nothing…mmph…new…”

As his words came out sluggish and belabored, it also dawned on Zelly how unbearably hot it had been. This man had clearly been out in the sun, but for how long? Dehydration alone was a very real risk, and along with that came heatstroke. If the blood loss didn’t get him, Zelly was terrified that the heatwave would. 

Suddenly Zelly’s desire for a silly, sad Starbucks run seemed so incredibly trivial as she crouched above this bloodied, heatstricken, thumb-sized man.  

She couldn’t just leave him, but her head was spinning with the implications of what she was looking at…this wasn’t just saving a baby bird that had fallen from its nest, this was a full-grown man. Zelly had no idea what he was or where he came from. Did she really understand what she was getting into? Zelly felt a pang of panic. What if she couldn’t do this? There was a reason she dropped out. There was a reason Oakley had-

One thing at a time. She needed to get him inside, stop the bleeding, get him cooled off, and get some water in him. Then she could try and piece together what was going on.

Zelly drew back her outstretched fingers and instead twisted her wrist so her hand was resting on the driveway with the palm up. The miniature man groggily regarded the hand, then looked up at her. 

Zelly held his gaze for a long moment. He didn’t move to climb up into her hand, but she also didn’t move to try and grab him without permission. Finally, Zelly ventured, “You can trust me. You’re hurt, and I can help.”

Did Zelly really mean it? Could she be trusted?

Despite how much uncertainty she felt, Zelly smiled softly. 

Then she reassured him quietly, “I promise.”

The Borrower’s hesitation was palpable. The man’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to maintain consciousness. He regarded her words…her fingers…her eyes.

He looked at her eyes for a long time. Zelly wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for

Then after what felt like an eternity, the man sheathed his thumbtack back into his boot and wiped off the blood of his hand onto his cloak. He reached up with his cleaner hand and gripped into the flesh of her fingertip and pulled himself up. Zelly could feel the individual fingers digging into her skin and muscle, she could feel the way his body shook as he struggled to stand. Zelly’s head was swimming with questions, but she knew there was a time and place for that.

Zelly was breathless as she waited for him to say something–anything. She was on the balls of her feet, ready to spring and catch him with her free hand if he looked like he was ready to pass out. 

After hauling himself up to his feet, the man took a few deep breaths before looking up. The Borrower met her gaze. He didn’t move further and he didn’t speak. No smile graced his lips.

Then, finally, he weakly nodded and replied with a quiet, almost hesitant, reply:

“...thank you.”

#ogtoc Rowan #ogtoc Zelly #gt #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t writing #giant/tiny writing #Borrowers #Borrower!AU #Offline Valor #gt writing #wholesome giantess #it's about time we gave them their First Meet 💙🖤

[grokebaby]

EVIL ARTEFACTS

Chalice of perishment - a small, innocuous looking chalice that is a pure, matte black color. It has the ability to make liquids into powerful potions - or poisons. It only works on bodily fluids such as tears or blood. It needs to come from a living source, since the Chalice uses the emotions and life source to power it's effects. The reason for it's name containing perishment is due to the fact that, at the cost of making, the Chalice will start slowly draining whoever it receives it's liquids from, which can result in severe bodily corruption or even death. There's a catch to this, however, as the person who donated the liquid to the Chalice, has the most success using the resulting potion or poison - thus making the use of living sacrifices undesirable. Simple potions still remain some potency when used by someone else, but for anything serious, it either loses most effect or may even result in disaster if used by someone other than the source person. [Was in the possession of and briefly used by Dark lord Evilicus, currently confiscated by the Galactic alliance of public safety]

Golgon('s) sword - A large ancient sword forged by and for an ancient demonic ruler by the name of Golgon. The sword's handle is decorated by mysterious patterns that resemble pawprints to the untrained eye, and it has a huge white gem at the base of the blade. If, when hit by the sword, it pierces flesh, a terrible ailment is inflicted on the injured person. It causes the flesh of the victim to begin drying up in painful, charred blisters beginning from the infection site, and eventually spreading onto the whole body. There is currently very few known antidotes. Once the infection has taken over the entire body there are two possible outcomes that are affected by the victims mental state upon the final moments of infection. If the victim has been able to come to terms with their terrible fate, and is at peace with death, they simply die in a pile of ash. However in the case of the opposite, where the victim attempts to fight their ailment and feels fear of it, they turn into a mindless entity, a metaphorical shadow of their former self who will only obey the sword's wielder. It is theoretically possible to free the victim of their state after this, however any known instances of this have not been recorded with tangible proof of the method and thus it remains debated. To prevent the sword from rapidly changing wielders, when found by someone whom it deems worthy, it attaches itself to the wielders arm and forms a sort of semi symbiotic relationship with them. It is very difficult to detach the sword from it's wielder, and the prospect of it becomes more risky the longer the sword and wielder are connected together. Depending on the length of time, potential side effects of detachment include short to long term nerve damage, rashes, burn scars, sensitivity to sunlight or necrosis. [Was in the possession and use of the Dark lord Evilicus, confiscated later by the galactic alliance of public safety]

(X) Null's hideout key - A mysterious key that is said to open the hatch to Nulls hideout. Null, known by many names (all of which include the word Null somewhere), is a cryptic entity who's known to wield strange unexplainable powers. Though it is possible to make a deal with it, x will most of the time still do however it pleases, and has been known to become unreliable or unpredictable. It's powers aren't necessarily solely destructive nor creative, and thus it's freedom tends to split opinions. X is a surreal lifeform who operates beyond the concepts of logic or physics and is thus difficult - but not impossible to challenge. According to various nursery rhymes, Null is said to suck out all whimsy and "imagination" from anything x touches, which manifests in various ways depending on subject, however vast majority of the time it's powers are transformative and don't significantly harm the subject of it's tricks.

Most info of Null originates from old children's tales or nursery rhymes and thus are the only consistent source on x. According to a story, a group of heroes sealed Null away to protect all the fun and beauty of the world, and placed a spell on the key to cause it to be constantly playing hide n seek. There exist no clues as to where the key is, and according to the story, the only way to find it is to start randomly counting down from 10, while looking for it. This is said to work regardless of location, person, or amount of participants. The chances of finding it still seem slim, so many seekers have been left to count down over and over again to no avail. Due to all this, Null's existence is heavily debated.

Void ores - a type of metal that is largely found in shadow dimensions and various underworlds. It's a popular - Though hard to find material for demonic entities to forge armor or weapons out of. Information around It's functions are closely guarded from humans or "Overworld" entities In fear of exposing vulnerabilities. Once subtracted, forged and fine-crafted, any piece of armor made from this ore becomes stronger each time it's exposed to blood - anyone's blood. The metal is considered intelligent in ways that inanimate objects often aren't (or shouldn't be), and it seems to cooperate with it's so called "Master" in (most) everything they do. It can be worn over long periods of times - even a lifetime, as it forms a sort of exoskeleton around it's master and grows and adapts with them. The metal is considered highly risky however, since any attempt to separate it from it's master causes it to act in dangerous ways and harm any living matter it touches, thus making removal near impossible and sometimes even fatal. Thus, it is advised that one make armor out of it only if they are fully willing to make a lifetime commitment, because you can't be guaranteed a safe removal. Methods of forgery seem to vary too much for there to be any one reliable source, so it is suspected that each demonic lifeform has their own, closely guarded method. [Notable example of an armor like this is the one currently worn by The Dark lord Evilicus]

#Lore #Cursed artefacts #Worldbuilding #Dark lord Evilicus #(Uhh what tags do I use for this) #REF #Object lore #Lore notes #Posts that make you yell at Evilicus for endangering themself

[mccdreamys-writes]

smiles for miles – 13. found.

and if i could turn back the clock, i'd make sure the light defeated the dark. - Calum Scott, You Are The Reason

S E P T E M B E R   1 8 T H   2 0 1 1 continued.

I paced restlessly outside the shed, feeling like a caged animal trapped within invisible walls. The frustration of constantly hitting barriers and retracing my steps was overwhelming. It was like being stuck in a nightmare where someone I cared about was in danger, and I couldn't do anything to help. Even though my team was inside, working hard to save her, I couldn't shake off the feeling of powerlessness.

Each passing minute felt like an eternity as I anxiously waited for any sign of progress. Finally, JJ emerged from the shed, and I rushed towards her with a flood of questions in my eyes.

"We need you inside," she said gravely, her tone serious and urgent. "You were right. This whole situation is about you, and we can't move forward without your help."

A surge of urgency shot through my body as I followed JJ back into the shed. My mind was buzzing with a whirlwind of thoughts, considering all the possibilities and potential outcomes of the situation.

As we entered, I observed the team gathered outside the concealed room, their expressions a mixture of determination and uncertainty. They weren't outright arguing, but it was clear that there was disagreement about the best course of action. Some seemed to advocate for caution, while others appeared more inclined to take swift and decisive steps. You could feel the tension in the air as everyone debated their best plan.

Just as I moved to enter the room, Hotch intercepted me with a firm grip on my arm. "Hold on, not yet," he instructed, his tone serious and commanding. "You can't just rush in there."

"But JJ said-" I started to protest, but Hotch interrupted me before I could finish.

"Listen," he interjected, his voice stern. "We do need your help, but rushing in blindly won't do anyone any good. You're too emotionally involved right now. We need your clear thinking and your knowledge of this place. Help us strategize instead."

I took a deep breath, mentally bracing myself for what was to come, and then nodded firmly. "Alright, tell me what we're dealing with," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.

Hotch pushed me closer to the group, and I found myself encircled by my teammates. Reid had sketched out a rough blueprint of the building, detailing the hidden room and the positions of Maile, James, and the menacing weapons aimed in their directions.

Rossi's voice broke the tensity. "She's forcing you to make a choice, Alex," he said gravely, his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

Reid quickly followed with an explanation. "The guns are rigged so that if you disable one, the other will fire. If you save Maile, the gun pointed at James will go off," he explained.

A wave of dread swept over me, dragging my heart down like a heavy weight in my chest. Despite the lingering bitterness in my relationship with James, the thought of him facing such a dire fate filled me with a profound sense of sorrow. Regardless of our past conflicts, I couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't deserve to meet his end like this.

But the mere notion of Maile's demise plunged me into a deep abyss of despair. The idea of losing her felt like losing a piece of my very soul, a part of me so essential that its absence would leave me utterly incomplete. The thought of her being torn away from me was unbearable, as if a core part of my identity would perish alongside her.

"I refuse to believe this is our only option," declared firmly, the strength of my conviction pulsing through every word. "Ira's attachment to her life with James is too strong. She wouldn't allow him to die. And she's well aware that I'll choose Maile."

I was certain of my conclusion. Ira wouldn't let her fiancé die. It went against everything I knew about her. Her devotion to him was too strong, even if her ability to think clearly was compromised.

"Where is she anyway?" I asked them.

Hotch answered quickly yet carefully, almost scared of what he was about to say. "We haven't found her yet."

"She can't be far," I pressed, a sense of urgency creeping into my words. "She wants a front-row seat. And I have a strong hunch about where she might be watching from."

Approaching Reid's rough sketch of the building, I grabbed the pencil and marked an X where the door to the observation room was. "There's a secret passage," I informed the team. "It leads to a room with monitors displaying live footage from all the cameras in this place."

Reid furrowed his brow in curiosity. "What was that room used for?" he asked.

Glancing up at him, I composed myself. "So he could relive her abuse," I replied calmly, though the gravity of the situation weighed heavily in my words.

"So, what's the plan?" JJ jumped in, breaking the tense silence of the realization that Maile's life was worse than they thought it'd be.

Morgan took charge, proposing, "I say two of us head up there to reason with Ira, figure out a way to disarm those guns without risking anyone's life. Meanwhile, the rest of us brainstorm a backup strategy."

Hotch nodded, acknowledging the proposal. "Blake, any other way into that room?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, grabbing the pencil and mapping out a complex route through a network of tunnels. "Following this path should lead you there as well. Or at least it used to back in the day."

"Alright," Hotch continued, his tone firm. "Morgan, Dave, you two head up there. Keep your communication devices on at all times. We need to stay informed about every move."

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, a tense silence hung over us as we awaited Morgan's next update. Then, at last, his voice crackled through the earpiece, breaking the stillness like a sharp crack of thunder. "Ira Listunova, FBI. We know you're in there," he announced firmly, his tone a mix of authority and caution, signaling their entrance into the room where Ira was thought to be hiding.

We held our breath, hanging on every word, bracing ourselves for what might come next. And then, there it was—the sound of Ira's voice cutting through the tension with unsettling confidence. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," she greeted them, her words laced with a chilling calmness that belied the gravity of the situation.

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, each syllable laden with unspoken implications and veiled threats. It was clear that Ira was no ordinary adversary; she was a formidable opponent, one who approached this deadly game with a calculated precision that made her all the more dangerous.

As we gathered close, the anticipation in the air seemed almost tangible, each of us yearning for even the smallest glimmer of hope amidst the overwhelming challenge before us. Then, breaking through the heavy silence, Reid's voice rang out, carrying an urgency that demanded our full attention.

"I think I might have something that could help," Reid declared, his tone a mix of determination and nervousness. We leaned in, eager to hear his idea for navigating the dangerous situation we found ourselves in.

Pointing towards the intricate diagram he had sketched out, Reid began to outline his strategy. "We're aware that attempting to untie them could trigger the guns," he explained, his voice steady despite the circumstances. "But as I studied the setup, I noticed something peculiar about the way they're rigged. And then I followed the wires to the control box."

With each word, a glimmer of hope began to shine through the darkness, the possibility of a solution emerging from the depths of despair. "I remembered seeing a trigger lock on the box," Reid continued, his words punctuated by a sense of revelation. "It's secured by a numeric code. Six digits, to be precise."

"And?" JJ prompted, her voice impatient as she awaited the next crucial piece of information.

"Alright," Reid started, his brow furrowed in concentration as he delved deeper into his analysis. "We're aware that Ira fixates on Alex's top two significant relationships, right? So, any big happening related to either of those could be what she's fixated on. She's particularly sensitive about feeling like she's not the first choice, which helps us narrow down the possibilities."

Reid turned his attention to me, indicating it was my turn to speak, to share more about my past, my life experiences.

Then Hotch asked with both urgency and concern. "Can you provide us with any details? Breakups, conflicts, anything that might give us the code?"

Thinking back on my tumultuous relationship with James, I recounted the key moments. "We didn't take any breaks, but we decided to split on May 15th, 2009."

Before I could delve further, JJ interjected with a pointed question, "Isn't that just eight days before-"

I anticipated where she was going and finished her sentence, acknowledging the significance. "Yes. The next important date would be our divorce which was finalized on September 3rd, 2009. But the moment that probably matters most to her is our first major argument about Maile."

That memory was still vivid, like a scar etched into my mind. It was the first time I felt both love and hate towards the same person.

"February 8th, 2002," I added, recalling the date. "Fifteen years after my last celebration with her."

Hotch grabbed his communication device, his finger poised over the button with a sense of urgency "Dave, could you ask her about February 8th, 2002?" he instructed, his voice filled with anticipation.

We all leaned in, our ears tuned to Rossi's voice as he initiated the inquiry. "Hey, Ira," Rossi began, his tone measured yet probing. "I'm curious about something. How does the date February 8th, 2002, resonate with you?"

In the tense silence that followed, every breath felt magnified, our collective attention fixed on the response we awaited from Ira. Though her facial expressions remained hidden, the pregnant pause in her breathing hinted at the stirring of deep-seated emotions within her.

"I must respectfully disagree," she replied with a hint of defiance in her voice. "There's nothing of importance to report." But beneath her words, we could sense the unspoken truth, a subtle evasion dancing in the air.

"I'm going in," Hotch declared. "Stay here unless I instruct otherwise." His words carried authority, but there was also a hint of caution, reminding us to follow his lead and wait for further instructions.

The weight of uncertainty pressed down on me, a heavy burden that seemed to consume my every thought. Each moment dragged on, stretching into an agonizing eternity filled with unanswered questions and lingering fears. Time seemed to warp, distorting reality as we waited for the decision that would determine our fate.

Then, in a sudden moment of clarity, a single beep pierced the silence, breaking through the oppressive atmosphere like a sign of impending finality. It cut through the tension, leaving an undeniable mark on our senses. With held breath, we waited, caught between hope and despair.

Hotch's urgent call for medics shattered the stillness, jolting us into action. Reid and JJ surged forward with purpose, their urgency driving them towards the heart of the unfolding crisis. The arrival of the medical team followed swiftly, their determined strides reflecting the seriousness of the situation.

A surge of emotion welled up inside me, a primal urge pushing me to jump into action, to offer any help I could. But as I tried to move, a chilling realization hit me – my body wouldn't respond. I was stuck, unable to do anything, gripped by fear as I struggled against the paralysis that left me helpless in the face of danger.

As the stretcher carrying my ex-husband passed by, a flood of conflicting feelings washed over me, stirring up memories and emotions long buried. In that fleeting moment, the past collided with the present, weaving together a tangled web of regret and longing. But amidst the chaos, a newfound clarity emerged, breaking through the fog of uncertainty that had clouded my mind.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I pushed myself forward, driven by an unshakeable determination to confront the demons of my past. Questions swirled around me, demanding answers, but I remained resolute. In that crucial moment, my focus shifted, drawn towards the woman whose absence had left a profound void within my being.

As I entered the dimly lit room, my eyes fell upon her form, trapped within the harsh grasp of mechanical restraints. The chains wrapped around her arms, stark against the paleness of her skin, revealing the cruelty she had endured. Her once-lovely face bore the scars of her suffering – dried blood streaked across delicate features, while bruises painted a painful picture on her skin.

Despite the visible wounds, there was a striking resilience in her demeanor, a defiance that shone through the darkness threatening to engulf her. In her battered state, I found a glimmer of hope amidst the despair, a reminder of the unyielding strength residing within her.

Hotch's frustration was evident as he struggled with the stubborn restraints. "I can't get them off," he confessed, his voice tinged with exasperation and a hint of resignation.

Fueled by the injustice of our situation, I said: "Then I'll find that woman myself."

But Hotch's response stopped me in my tracks, his tone laced with a steely resolve that left no room for argumentation. "No," he commanded firmly, his gaze unwavering as he closed the distance between us.

His next words were delivered in a hushed whisper, laden with an intensity that belied their softness. "You stay here," he urged, his voice a gentle caress against the tumult of my emotions. "She needs you... And you need her."

As I silently nodded, a path seemed to open up before me as I moved through the crowd of worried faces, making my way towards her. Despite the pain that clouded her features, there was a certain glow emanating from her, a radiant aura that pulled at my heartstrings. Our reunion was filled with both joy and sorrow, tinged with the bittersweet residue of years lost to separation.

"Hey," she breathed, her voice a fragile whisper that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words. "I know this wasn't how we were supposed to reunite."

With a gentle gesture, I silenced her, my fingertips brushing against her hair as I cupped her cheek in the palm of my hand. "Hush," I murmured, my voice a soothing balm against the backdrop of chaos that surrounded us. "How are you?"

Her response was a mosaic of emotions, each word imbued with the resonance of lived experience. "A bit bruised. A bit hungry. A bit thirsty. A bit tired," she confessed, her vulnerability laid bare in the raw honesty of her words. "But mostly, incredibly happy to see you."

A tender smile graced my lips as I echoed her sentiment. "Right back at ya," I affirmed. "I'm going to get you out of here, I promise. And then, I'll go to the hospital with you. I'll be by your side every step of the way. I'm not leaving you. Not anymore."

She responded with a touch of self-deprecating humor. "You're going to get sick of me," she joked, although her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.

But I refused to entertain such thoughts, my resolve unwavering as I met her gaze with sincerity. "Never", I stated. "There is absolutely nothing in this world that could ever make me sick of you."

As the door creaked open, Hotch stepped out followed by Dave, Morgan, and Ira, their presence offering some comfort amid the uncertainty that hung in the air. We all waited anxiously for a solution on how to free Maile from the restraints.

"I'll tell you", Ira began. "But only in the presence of those two." She gestured towards us with a nod of confirmation.

Hotch hesitated, his uncertainty palpable, but I sensed an unspoken understanding flicker in his eyes. "We'll be fine," I reassured him, projecting confidence despite the doubts swirling around us.

With a reluctant nod, the three men reluctantly departed, leaving me alone in the room with the love of my life and the woman who had sought to usurp my entire life.

Our eyes locked, a silent exchange of tension and determination passing between us before she broke the silence with a faint smile. "You look better in person," she commented, trying to lighten the mood with a hint of humor.

Despite her attempt at a compliment, I remained focused on the task ahead. "Enough with the chit-chat," interrupted, urgency coloring my tone. "Get her out of these damn things."

"Sure, fine. Whatever", Ira replied with a begrudging sigh, her movements deliberate as she approached the opposite side of the room in her police handcuffs. She pushed a button and with a resounding click, the restraints fell away, freeing Maile from their suffocating embrace.

But as Maile tried to stand, her strength faltered, her knees buckling beneath her. Without hesitation, I rushed forward, catching her in my arms before she could fall.

In a desperate embrace, she clung to me as though afraid that I might slip away, evaporating like a fleeting dream upon waking. The weight of her fear pressed upon me, a tangible reminder of the fragility of our existence amidst the chaos that surrounded us.

With a sudden shift in momentum, she pivoted us around, forcing me to confront the grim reality in front of me, behind her back. Ira's actions had summoned forth a gun, its presence a chilling reminder of the danger we faced.

Tension filled the air as I prepared for the expected onslaught, but the anticipated gunfire never erupted. Instead, a sickening realization washed over me as Maile's weight slumped against me, her blood staining my hands in a macabre testament to the brutality that was our life.

Instinct kicked in as I reached for my weapon, the familiar weight offering a semblance of reassurance in my trembling hands. With determination, I aimed at the woman responsible for the tragedy, her body crumpling to the ground in a silent acknowledgment of the violence that had engulfed us.

Exhausted and overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, I collapsed to the ground, holding Maile's lifeless body close. Tears mixed with blood as I whispered desperate pleas into the darkness, my words a solemn promise of undying love.

"Please stay with me, Smiles," I pleaded, my voice choked with emotion. "I love you."

#alex blake #criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #david rossi #derek morgan #bau team #criminal minds fandom #bau #dr alex blake #fxf #ssa blake #ssa hotchner #ssa reid #dr reid #ssa morgan #ssa rossi #ssa jareau #original character #alex blake x female character #alex blake x original character #alex blake x original female character #alex blake x fem!character #wlw #fic #fluff #angst

[thottybrucewayne]

A LIST OF PEOPLE WHO ARE GOING TO HELL: 2023 EDITION, LETS GOOOOOOOO!!!!

Anybody that's still dick gobblin JK Rowling. At this point yall can't be saved. Perish. Yall be going two hand twist Teanna Trump full throttle on her shit 24/7 365 and for what? A children's book series that really should have stopped being relevant the second yall heard the bitch was bumping coochies with terfs on Twitter dot com? Be serious

Anybody that defended Tory Lanez. But especially the niggas that were 10 toes down and nipple deep in conspiracy theories because they were too pussy to admit they just wanted to participate in the harassment of a Black woman. You going to the hottest part of hell if you really believe that "roc nation got him!" Or any other bullshit

White leftists who hold zero community with Black people either online or irl but wanna act like world renowned Doctors of Niggalogy the second they hear about anything a Black leftist is doing. I'm fitting yall for some gasoline draws as we speak

White tiktokkers. Yall showed yall ass so bad last year that you all gotta go at this point. Yall getting packed like sardines and will be down there within 2 to 3 business minutes

Like 99.999999999999999% of anime/manga fans. You niggas are so deeply unserious about everything to the point where a prominent figure in the anime news community was exposed for being a literal "ex" neo nazi and yall tried to sneak forgive him 2 months later because "everyone makes mistakes" you're spineless and weak and I'm spitting in your eye before I pull the lever to the flaming depths below

Speaking of anime, anyone who was involved with anime abridged series but especially in the 2010s. Yall are going to the front of the line. I ain't forget what yall was doing with Canary from hxh

Anybody who is ridiculously overly critical of the "state of female rap" but refuse to speak on these mid tier male rappers that be stinking up the girls records with they features

Paula Abdul and Jlo. They both know why.

Anyone who makes Ike and Tina/Whitney and Bobby jokes

Anyone who thinks up north and Cali aren't racist. 9 times outta 10 you are the embodiment of northerner/cali racists we be talkin about

Anyone who argues that slur reclamation makes a word not a slur anymore. A. That's not how that works B. Now I know why yall wanna say nigga so bad

Anybody who still listens to them nsfw anime boyfriend audios on the public library computers. You and the dude on xvideos a seat over from you are 2 sides of the same coin

Batman "fans" who say shit like "why doesn't he just kill the joker?" Yall add nothing new to the conversation like ever and its literally painful to talk to you

Anyone who takes hoteps, Dr. Umar, or DJ akademiks seriously. You was born a fool and you'll die a fool

Niggas with podcasts. Enough

Whoever keeps coming up with them twitter hypotheticals that rule every conversation within the Black community for a solid week. I'm convinced you are a psyop tasked with sowing chaos within the Black community. You must be terminated.

Anybody who recommends me corny ass cornball corn on the cob ass media then expect me to like it. Cause like....what you trying to say?

VAUSH

Yall nbs who keep jumping up to defend raceplay/slaveplay in any kink based controversy on here even though nobody was fuckin talkin about raceplay/slaveplay

Reylos. Self explanatory.

Booktokkers and Booktok authors

Niggas who eat chitlins but are picky about other food. Slurp them doodoo noodles in hell, babes.

People who think "blackwashing" is real. Self explanatory.

Men who look like they smell like cold spit and earring backs who talk cash shit about fat women. Yall gonna be roasted on a spit and I'll be turning it.

Pickmes. You've finally been picked! To burn in the lake of fire for all eternity.

And finally, anybody and I mean ANYONE who is still doing stupid shit like licking subway poles for attention. I hope all 8 million diseases of the naked city on that damn pole attack your immune system and breaks you down on a molecular level till theres nothing left.

#thotty speaks #thotty rants #going to hell list 2023 #feel free to add some in the reblogs

[acacia-may]

More Than My Life [Mystwalker Fanfiction]

Story Summary: He should have listened to her all those years ago. If he had, he probably wouldn’t be lying on what very well could be his deathbed with a gaping wound in his stomach that had been meant for her, and she wouldn’t be standing guard quietly in the corner as her insides coiled and twisted. She wouldn't be contemplating if for once in her life she knew what it was to be truly and utterly scared…

OR

When King Jellal is seriously injured protecting Erza Knightwalker, the words he couldn’t say and the feelings she wouldn’t admit are finally brought to light.

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confession, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Post-Edolas Arc

Relationships: Erza Knightwalker and Mystogan (aka Edolas Jellal) Romance and Friendship; Mystwalker; Edo Jerza

Characters: Erza Knightwalker (POV Character) and Mystogan (aka Edolas Jellal)

Rating: G

Warnings: Mention of some injuries as well as some non-graphic discussion of non-depicted violence related to those injuries and discussion of the treatment of those injuries. Spoilers for Edolas Arc in Fairy Tail but there should be No Spoilers for 100YQ.

Word Count: 2762

Links to original posts on AO3 and FFN. Please do not repost to another site.

Story Below the Cut! Thank you so much for reading!

Erza Knightwalker had been called many things in her life, but scared was not one of them. If anything, people had been scared of her—but of course that had been ages ago now, in what almost felt like another life. In some ways, perhaps it had been another life—after all, this was her second chance at life or maybe even her third, fourth or fifth given how many times she had almost perished given her particular line of work. Still, her king had offered her a chance to start over, and even she could admit he was kindhearted despite her belief that he was far too apt to forgive people who didn’t deserve it, people like her. When he had chosen to commute her sentence from the banishment or execution she likely deserved to working with him in rebuilding the kingdom that she had nearly pushed to the brink of destruction, she had thought the newly-crowned monarch was either totally naïve or completely out of his mind. When he had appointed her as his personal bodyguard, she was sure he must be a little of both, particularly after he had been genuinely surprised the first time she had taken a serious injury in his place. 

“I never thought you liked me very much,” he had said, and Erza had merely blinked at him. King Jellal was far too smart to be this stupid. 

When she had asked him, as respectfully as she could manage, why he had seen fit to make her his bodyguard then, he had twitched his mouth just barely in the corners and said, “Well I needed to think of some kind of punishment for you.” 

She hadn’t realized then that this was his dry sense of humor talking, but humor or not it was a concerning sentiment. “It’s not much of a punishment,” she had insisted. 

To which he had replied, “You believe you should have been banished with my father.” It hadn’t been a question. 

“It would have been a just sentence.” 

His smile had widened then for just a split second, and the expression of his face had softened, “You and I have very different ideas of justice then, Captain Knightwalker.” 

He should have listened to her all those years ago. She was not so arrogant as to doubt the king only...if he had listened to her and sent her away, he probably wouldn’t be lying on what very well could be his deathbed with a gaping stab wound in his stomach that had been meant for her, and she wouldn’t be standing guard quietly in the corner as her insides coiled and twisted. She wouldn't be contemplating if for once in her life she knew what it was to be truly and utterly scared… Something panged in her chest, and her eyes burned, quickly growing misty. 

“Captain…are you crying?” asked a hoarse, strained voice. Erza turned immediately towards the king who was lying weak, pale, and languid in bed as would be expected from someone who was so critically injured. As she rushed to his bedside, her only concern was stopping him from straining himself. In truth, what he had actually said had barely registered until he repeated, “Why are you crying, Captain?” 

Erza’s brow furrowed. Crying? Surely, she wasn’t…

Erza’s jaw fell a bit slack as she pressed her fingers against her face and felt the damp trail on her cheek left by an unbidden and unwanted tear that had somehow struggled free. Her cheeks grew hot though she was certain she blushed even more when His Majesty asked, “Are you okay?” 

Ezra was far too respectful of her king to roll her eyes, but a sigh did escape her mouth. He was unbelievable—absolutely unbelievable—mortally wounded and worried about her of all people. No wonder his subjects adored him. He truly deserved to be considered “the king of the people.” The difference between him and his father, King Faust, was almost night and day. “I’m fine, Your Majesty,” she assured him hurriedly. “Are you alright? Do you want me to fetch the doctor?” 

The royal physician had only just recently stepped out for the first time since he had sutured and bandaged the king’s wounds. Erza was certain he hadn’t gone far. She could likely even catch up with him if she ran fast enough, but His Majesty said, “No, thank you. I’m alright. Please let poor Dr. Sequen have a bit of a rest.” 

Erza quirked an eyebrow at him and his bold-faced lie, not to mention his concern for his royal physician, a scrawny old man who had, naturally, been running himself ragged over the last several hours trying to save the young king’s life, but that was his job and one he was more than happy to do, she might add. If anything, he might be upset that he wasn’t summoned immediately when His Majesty had woken up. 

“Captain, you could use a rest too,” he said before Erza could begin to insist His Majesty send for medical attention. She shook her head briskly, and King Jellal sighed. “Would you at least sit down, then?” 

With a sigh, Erza decided it was probably best to oblige his request before he hurt himself on her account, again, so she quietly took a seat in a chair at the bedside. After several moments of silence, she decided to give her report, “They’ve apprehended the assailant, and he and his accomplice are awaiting trial. The…the attack was intended for me, not you, Your Majesty.” 

King Jellal nodded. “I figured as much.” 

Which is exactly the reason you shouldn’t have made me your bodyguard, Erza mentally continued. There were surely countless people who wanted to hurt her, who wanted vengeance for the horrible things she had done under the reign of King Faust. It wasn’t fair for King Jellal who put an end to his father’s tyranny and ushered in an era of peace for Edolas to have to pay for her misdeeds. Even this de facto assassin seemed to think so since, as she had heard from some of her men, he had crumbled into a sniveling, apologetic mess when he realized he had stabbed the king in her stead. In his defense, she supposed, he had no way of knowing that King Jellal would jump directly in front of the swing of his sword and push her out of the way—no one did, least of all Erza herself.

“I’ve failed in my duty to protect you, Your Majesty.” 

She hung her head but could hear King Jellal hum thoughtfully. “I suppose that is one way of looking at it.” 

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, what other way is there?” she questioned, glancing up at him again with a slight tilt of her head. 

The corners of his mouth twitched just barely with that thoughtful, almost imperceptible smile she had come to recognize after years as his most trusted bodyguard. In many ways it seemed saved only for her and those moments when she was far more frank with him than a servant should be with their king. “That I succeeded in my duty to protect you.” 

“Your Majesty, if you are the one protecting me, I have no right to call myself your bodyguard. It is almost nonsensical. When your subjects learn I have allowed you to be injured in my place, they will insist I be stripped of my rank of Captain in your Royal Army and perhaps even imprisoned or banished for treason.” 

As something almost affectionate passed over his eyes, King Jellal tilted his head. “I think they will understand.” 

“Your Majesty, your people are not as forgiving as you.” Erza sighed. “Though they are good people, they are also reasonable ones. They will never understand why their king would risk his life to protect his bodyguard.” 

“Perhaps,” King Jellal admitted quietly; however, his expression softened. “But I can only hope they will understand why their king would risk his life to protect the woman he loves.” 

Erza’s face grew suddenly warm, and she was sure her cheeks must be swiftly turning as red as her hair as her heart began to race. She shook her head slightly. Surely, she had misheard him…or perhaps infection was setting in and he was becoming delirious with fever. His Majesty, however, merely bit his lip as the faintest tint of pink flushed in his cheeks. 

“I apologize. That was not how I intended to tell you. I’m not sure I intended to tell you at all, but I do think you should know…” He swallowed hard. “I do care for you—more than life itself it would seem.” 

There was something so sincere in his dark eyes that Erza found she could only blink at him. Had she been any less helpless, she would likely have thought it was almost pathetic in a way—the former Great Fairy Hunter of Edolas rendered completely speechless, empty-headed, and useless by a few ardent words, even if they were utterly unexpected. As Erza continued to blink blankly at him, King Jellal sighed and averted his gaze from her, but he continued, “I suppose in a way it was unfair that I kept it from you. I hope you’ll forgive my selfishness in concealing my true intentions.” 

“Your…your what?” she finally but barely choked in a somewhat garbled whisper as her cheeks flamed red. 

“Nothing improprietous I assure you. It’s only…my affection for you is much deeper than merely a king for his bodyguard, and it always has been. And earlier today, when I saw that swordsman coming right at you and…your back was turned already fighting with another one, I…I realized that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I’m sorry.” 

Erza shivered under the intensity of his gaze, but there was something so kind and so gentle in his eyes. She swallowed hard. It dawned on her that for the second time in her life she had absolutely no idea what she was doing with herself thanks to a completely outlandish declaration from King Jellal. She should have probably come to expect it by now, but this was not a pardon. This was not a commuted sentence. This was a…a…she could scarcely bring herself to even think it. Could this really be a declaration of…of love?

“There’s no reason for you to apologize, Your Majesty,” she stumbled. “But…uh…um…” Her voice hitched, and she stopped abruptly, mentally kicking herself for sounding so wavering.

“I’m afraid this is yet another time we will have to respectfully disagree, Captain. I have put you on the spot and made you uncomfortable, and for this I am very sorry.” 

“No, uh—” she began to say she wasn’t entirely sure what, and, as much as she would never admit it, she was actually somewhat relieved when His Majesty interrupted her. 

“Please don’t feel obligated to say anything just because I am your king,” he gently insisted. “If anything, I hope you have grown to see me as not only your king but also your friend.” 

As Erza somehow managed a brisk nod, King Jellal smiled. “Then as your friend, I humbly ask for your forgiveness for being so forward and for making you cry.” 

Erza touched her cheek, checking for yet another unbidden tear, but it was dry. His Majesty must still be referring to before. 

“I’m the one who should ask for your forgiveness. It was completely inappropriate for me to…”  

“Please, Captain. I know it’s selfish of me to ask but…”—His face flushed a rosy pink— “if you would just, please, consider indulging me and allowing me to believe that perhaps you were crying for me and for yourself.” The blush of his face deepened to a flaming red so crimson that it resembled her hair and clashed terribly with his. He buried his face in his hands. “That sounded…horribly wrong. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to cry, of course, ever, for any reason, but when I woke up and saw those tears in your eyes, I…I didn’t know what to think. I guess I thought that perhaps…perhaps it was possible that…that it was something deeper than just duty. That maybe you weren’t just mourning what had happened to your king, but…” His voice trailed, and Erza’s own cheeks flushed rose. 

After a long heavy pause, she took a deep breath. “It was. It was more than that…” Erza confessed at last though she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “I…I didn’t want to lose you, Your Majesty, especially not because I couldn’t protect you. I don’t think…I could live with myself if you died to save me.” 

“I don’t think I could live with myself if you died to save me either, so I’m afraid we’re at a bit of an impasse, Captain Knightwalker.” 

A breathy chuckle escaped Erza’s mouth. “Once again.” 

His Majesty chuckled a bit himself before his expression softened. “I don’t regret it, protecting you, I mean. I would do it again, a million times over—as many times as it takes. I hope at least now you can believe me when I say I love you more than my own life, Erza Knightwalker.” 

Erza’s cheeks grew hot, but she stumbled her way through a nod. “I do. Though I’m not sure I would have without you taking a stab wound for me earlier,” she admitted.  

“I do appreciate your honesty.” His lips twitched, and there it was again—that secret smile. “I suppose it was worth it then, to be able to tell you that, at least once in my life.” 

Something twisted in Erza’s stomach as an almost sickening sense of dread began to rise in her chest. “Once?” she repeated in an almost garbled voice. She stood from her seat and turned to rush out the door to fetch the doctor, but she stopped abruptly as His Majesty’s hand reached out to gently grab her wrist. 

“No, please. I…I’m not on my deathbed, I can assure you—injured, yes, but I’ve been hurt much worse than this before, believe me.” He offered her a slight, reassuring smile that faded as he continued with the faintest pink tint in his cheeks, “I only meant that…if you don’t return my affections, I…I won’t express them again out of respect for you.” 

Erza blushed, but she sighed. “It’s not me you should be worried about, Your Majesty. You should be thinking of your people—what they’ll say, how they’ll whisper and gossip about you if you try to pursue a woman who is merely a soldier, a bodyguard, and a criminal…” 

“They don’t see you the way you see yourself,” he insisted with something so kind, so ardently devoted in his dark eyes that Erza could almost believe him. “And even if they did, I’m sure that when they got to know you they would see everything in you that I see and would know what an amazing person you are.” 

“You have a very good heart, Your Majesty,” she replied, turning away from him with rosy cheeks and a bittersweet smile tugging at her mouth. “But you deserve someone worthy of you.” 

“I can’t imagine anyone is more worthy than the person who has stayed by my side—fought by my side with an unshakable loyalty and who has always been willing to die to protect me.” King Jellal gently pressed his palm to her cheek, and as he whispered her name, “Erza…” her heart raced. “I love you, but I don’t expect anything from you. If you don’t love me, I understand. I will never mention this again and will hope you can learn to forgive my forwardness and remain my friend. But please only refuse because you don’t love me, not because you’re scared to.” 

Scared. Erza Knightwalker had been called many things in her life, but scared was not one of them…and she was not about to take up that title now, no matter how apt it might be. She could only hope that the rapid beating of her heart wouldn’t betray her as she leaned forward, snaking her arms around his neck. Her warm breath brushed up against his skin as she hovered mere inches away from his face. “I’m not scared…” she whispered before she finally erased the space between them with a kiss. 

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