#everything is fine judy
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Girlboss in a box
#everything is fine fanart#everything is fine#everything is fine webtoon#everything is fine webcomic#everything is fine Judy#digial art#digital drawing#fanart#webtoon fanart#tumblr art#art on tumblr
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"Mom, does it hurt when we get bombarded?
Do we feel the pain, or do we just die at once?"
These are the questions that Reporter Youmna El Sayed began with in her interview conducted by the AJ+ network to document her struggles with her children and the suffering of all the people of Gaza
When my kids ask me, 'Mom, does it hurt when we get bombarded?
Do we feel the pain, or do we just die at once?'
and I have to tell them, 'No, don't worry. It's not going to hurt.' Their father reassures them, saying, 'Don't worry. It just happens once, and that's it.' In the past, we would comfort our children, saying, 'Don't worry. It's going to be okay. It's going to end soon. You'll be fine. We'll be fine.' Everything is shaking—constantly. But now, every night, we tell them, 'Don't worry. We're together, sticking together. If we die, we die together.'
Death has become a looming reality since the Israeli army encircled Gaza city.
The bombardments have been relentless—from the land, air, and sea.
Our building is in a perpetual state of tremor.
Three days ago, we awoke to the smoke of nearby fires filling our homes.
We sought refuge in the basement, the best option with the least smoke, but it was still overwhelming.
The kids were coughing, suffocating, and their eyes were itching. But when it comes to my children, it just hits me so hard, Dina, and I just feel that I can't control it anymore.
I can't be that strong, brave woman who's able to control things or get things under control because they're my weak part.
I feel a loss of control, unable to maintain the facade of strength and bravery. Judy, usually full of life, now appears quiet and terrified
She doesn't eat much.
She doesn't feel like doing anything.
I tried to speak to her about things, you know, bring back some happy memories, and I said, as usual, 'What would you like to do the first thing after this war ends?' She told me, 'Mommy, I don't want to do anything except for this war to end.
I just want these bombardments to end, everything—the destruction, the despair, the loss.'
I think they tell you that now—we're just hearing news of people dying every now and then—people that we know, friends, colleagues, everyone around us.
And it just, you know, really, like, 'May he rest in peace,' and that's it.
I just—we just go on because we were just waiting for our turn.
You mentioned to me that food is scarce and supplies are low.
What is the water situation?
We can starve, right?
We can go on without food, even as adults.
But without water, I'd rather die from bombardments than die from thirst.
I don't want my kids at the end to die from thirst.
Are you still thinking to move south, and what would that look like? The last attempt was a couple of days ago, and we found out that to move south, we need to walk for at least 6 to 7 km on foot and not carry anything at all with us—none of our belongings. Basically, walk this distance while we raise our hands to show that we surrender, just holding our IDs in one hand and raising the other.
And I think that's just extremely humiliating.
And it's not just that, you know?
You remember the massacre that everyone saw on TV screens for the civilians that were bombarded on the road?
They're still lying there. Until this day, lying there in the streets, their bodies.
The crows and the birds are eating from them, and no one has been able to pick them up. The Israeli army has not allowed anyone or ambulances or any medical teams to come to pick these people up and to bury them.
How can I let my kids go through a street while they see other children and other people killed and thrown just like that, lying in the street like that, while birds are eating from them?
I think that this is just inhumane and more cruel than anything.
This is not to worry about fighting Hamas or Palestinian fighters.
This war began by eliminating and wiping out the Palestinian people in Gaza.
This isn't a war against Palestinian fighters nor Hamas; it's a genocide against Gaza.
#jerusalem#gaza#palestine#gaza strip#free gaza#free palestine#storiesfromgaza#غزة#فلسطين#genocide#humanitarian crisis#savepalestine#freepalestine#palestinian#israel#longlivepalestine#prayforpalestine#savegaza#palestina#prayforgaza#palestinewillbefree#alaqsa
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There's a brand of criticism that looks at Night of the Living Dead (1968), and suggests people consider the interpretation that Harry Cooper, the racist and misogynistic antagonist of the movie, was right the whole time. After all, if everyone listened to Harry, they would have stayed safely locker in the cellar and survived. He was a bad person, but if you think rationally about, his plan would have worked.
This has nagged at me awhile, because it felt off, and now I can tell you unambiguously that interpretation is not just thematically inconsistent, but factually wrong. Here's why.
First, consider what each character symbolizes. Ben, the protagonist, is revolutionary thinking. He represents taking action, problem solving, creativity and opposition of authority. Barbara is the iconic public in the face of sudden, overwhelming horror. Think the shock and horror in response to the Vietnam War, fresh at the time, the first real widespread use of television exposing USAmericans to the graphic atrocities committed by their own soldiers. Harry, the antagonist represents isolationism, conservativism, and the idea that everything is fine as it is. There is no need for change for Harry, let the government fix it.
Secondarily! Harry's wife Helen and daughter Karen. Helen is also a symbol of traditional values, but in what you might call a centrist way. She too thinks, at first, that Harry is right and it's all going to work out, but as the movie progresses she comes to realize too late that she is not being kept safe but rather held as property and Harry intends to let everyone die if it means what he has stays his. Karen, meanwhile, represents the idea that the external problem (zombies) cannot be ignored and just locked away. The problem is already inside the house, it will affect everyone regardless.
Lastly! Judy and Tom, what else could they be but the innocent hope of youth (Tom) and love (Judy). They die first because their naivete and blind optimism put them in each other's way. They are the proud soldiers of the US military going of to an idealistic war only to die, burning and alone, for nothing.
So, factually speaking, first and foremost, the "Harry was right" position always glosses over that Karen is infected. They believe that as a large group it would be easy to avoid further infection by Karen. This is incorrect, as the movie shows several times. First, Helen stays at Karen's side so extensively that she is ultimately killed when Karen turns. We can from this also recognize the same thing would happen if everyone stayed in the basement. Helen will be infected. Second! Harry repeatedly shows his belief that his wife and daughter are property, and he will act irrationally in his own self interest. It is safe to say that Harry will insist on protecting his wife and daughter even after they become zombies. This means the group will be isolated in a small space with two fresh zombies. What happens from this point is immaterial the group is now at best 3vs4 on the side of zombies, and they have NOT successfully made it through the night unscathed.
But wait! This is already giving the idea that Harry is right too much credit because Harry does not want to leave the basement at all. This means that if Harry was listened to, there would only be Tom and Judy in the basement versus Harry and his zombie family. They would all die if they did not take action. Furthermore! Only by leaving the basement does anyone other than Ben and Barbara find out how to stop zombies, and Ben is the only one who has genuinely figured out one solid antizombie tactic on his own.
Not only this, but Harry has no way to predict that people like Barbara and Ben will show up. His basement plan hinges on a stable situation, which they are not in. He has not planned against a horde of zombies until Ben arrives, and after Ben arrives, he works almost exclusively against the group goals. Harry is not just isolationist but selfish. His plan does not work because at no point does he show any ability to cope with the direct problem, and every version of "sitting it out in the basement" just gets more people killed. Harry is wrong and his plan is bad and critics who suggest his plan was good ought to feel bad.
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holds gun to your head. what are your the locked tomb gender hcs. i like your art
thank you!! in no particular order:
harrowhark: thats a Thing. being she/her is like a thing that came with being reverend daughter as a job and she refuses to acknowledge gender beyond that- but she would fucking kill it with it/its pronouns lets be real
gideon: butch. thats all. kind of that middle ground between being gnc and transgender in any direction but shes fine being a girl its moreso the focus on being a lesbian. ive seen some top surgery gideon art which i love but thats not my primary hc because i think A) she loves boobs on other girls so much it goes back around to appreciating her own B) im gay
camilla: boygirl. shes transmasc but also still a woman mostly due to nonchalance about the whole thing. shares she/he with palamedes thats my dream
palamedes: sorry i meant girlamedes. girlboy. also like if he was a girl but still a boy, but contrary to cams side its because hes both, like if you overlaid two layers at 50% opacity to make a new color. blue-green. shares she/he with camilla. quinn @thatneoncrisis once said hes soft butch which is so real i adore that
tridentarii: the twins to me are cis (dont leave yet) primarily because i think if i stick to the bit of them being cis white women everything they do is a fucking riot and it simply is the height of all humor. that aside sometimes i do get tired of the bit and corona is so trans woman to me and i know with certainty that when ianthe was in babs body she was doing drag.
naberius: i dont think about him LMFAO
second: i also dont think about the second much due to lack of substance, but i can get behind judy. nonbinary woman to me
fourth: jeannemary baby butch for SURE. thats canon. maybe a she & sir if i think about it. in modern aus gideon will babysit them and immediately clock isaac as a future he/they
fifth: t4t
seventh: dulcie has woman swag. not sure if shes cis i feel as if im intruding if i wonder about it. protesilaus is some guy
eighth: who cares
pash: worlds most beautiful trans woman ever to ME. i love her dearly there needs to be more representation of women just absolutely fucking coated in dirt and motor oil with bad manners if you offer them water. she is not fucking cis that is in the hair
nona: she just decided to be a girl because she thinks girls are pretty and she likes them. hope this makes sense <3 shed fucking adore some neos
john: karkat vantas
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Bumblebee (Transformers) - Chapter 1
Meeting Bumblebee and Sam was possibly the best thing to happen in your life. At heart you’d always been a nerd. In high school that really wasn’t a flex. You always sort of knew Sam. He was constantly running a little hussle on the side.
It was adorable.
But after the fight in the national city, things changed. Sam changed and then you met his cousin Bumblebee. You just assumed it was some kind of nickname. Your little crew had expanded. It was just you, Sam, Mickeala and Bee. You couldn’t have been happier. Especially since they were the only ones that seem to believe your theory of alien existence.
Most people thought it was just a phase, but you were a scientist and you’d been studying the markings and messages since the battle that the government tried to cover up.
They said it was an international attack and everyone just believed it.
None of it made sense.
You were determined to prove that with the help of your friends.
“Bee! You won’t believe what I found!!”
His blue eyes sparkled at your call, brown hair a bit tousled from whatever activity he’d been doing in the living room of the Witwicky household. You had pretty much become a member of the family.
“Well Hello (Y/N) it’s always nice to see you. Can I get you anything?” Judy asked. You shook your head.
“No thanks Mrs. Witwicky, I just had a scientific breakthrough. Come on Bee!!”
You grabbed his hand, leading him to the backyard as you dropped your bag. With notebook in hand, you flipped the pages taking a seat as Bumblebee joined you.
“What did you find?” He looked intrigued. The second his eyes landed on the symbols you drew, he swallowed.
“I’ve been trying to decipher these for months and I think I finally cracked the code. “
There were a few scribbles, and next to the foreign writing was a few notes. “
“Bee these symbols have to be alien and I think I figured out what this one means. It says prime.”
He was impressed that you were even able to translate the writing.
“Of course there’s a lot more, it has to be, but I don’t have the entire message. So prime must mean something. In a lot of other languages it means savior or leader.” Your brows were furrowed as you reached for your computer from your bag, pulling up some sites to correlate.
“Whatever it means, I'm getting close, I can feel it. I’m almost done with my radio system too. Plus John said that if I helped him with the last three cars that I could use the junkyard to hook up my portal. “ You did a little cheer.
“It’s all starting to look up!!”
You were overly excited, and Bee wanted to share your joy. But he couldn’t. Because all the answers you were looking for were right in front of you. It killed him not to tell you the truth, but Optimus was very clear about involving anyone else in this war. While they had an alliance with the navy, it was agreed that staying hidden, at least for the time being, was the best call. There were still Decepticons out there hunting them. Wanting to cause harm to the human race. They couldn’t allow that.
“I’m protecting her.”
That’s what he kept telling himself.
Everyone around you knew the truth and Bee was worried that when you did find out, it wouldn’t be as exciting as you hoped.
“Hey Bee, you okay?”
You took notice of the sadden expression. He looked up, letting out a breath and he forced himself once again to lie to you for your safety.
“I’m fine, I just did really bad on a test recently.”
“Why didn’t you say anything! It’s algebra isn’t it? I can help you. This alien stuff can wait. I have plenty of time to become a scientific genius. First I gotta make sure my best friend makes it through high school.”
You placed all your items down with a grin, and the pit in his stomach just became worse. You literally just dropped everything to help him because you thought he was struggling. His spark felt a bit cold in his chest.
“Come on, let’s go study.” You started shoving your items into your bag as you nudged his shoulder with a giggle. When you moved to the door, Sam came running out.
“Bee Opti-Uh I mean your dad needs to talk to you pronto!!”
Bumblebee’s eyes lifted, and you looked a bit worried.
“Is your dad doing okay?”
He almost forgot that even Optimus’s existence was another cover story.
Bumblebee nods.
“He’s doing better.” He assured you.
As far as you knew his father had an illness, hence his reason for living with Sam. You’d never even question why you were never able to meet him. One night you’d just sat down and told him that you understood what it was like losing a parent to an illness. You’d been raised by your grandparents. You barely remembered your parents because you’d lost them so early in life. Then shortly after you’d lost your grandfather. Now it was just you and your grandmother.
His gut twisted, and he bid you goodbye, following Sam out the door. He hoped that this distraction would help his conscience.
#secrets#goverment#love#bumblebee x reader#care#sam witwicky#transformers#truth#friends#la#war#decepticons#autobots#guilt
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Okay I know this is a long shot but you know what I would like for my birthday next month? Art of my characters. I haven't really been able to draw anything in months because my job basically consumes every moment of my life right now, and I miss them. 🥺
Here are the ones I'd love to see art of:
Penelope is my main girl, the apple of my eye, my little Halfling popstar who's a bundle of anxiety and spunk.
Diana is all sass and spontaneity. She is head-over-heels for her patron Nimue, and would do anything Nimue asked of her.
Vivi is Penelope's best friend, and she's goofy and chaotic. She loves folklore and myths and gets a kick out of pop culture. (She's an NPC in our Fate DnD game, so our DM and I basically share her lol)
Johni is Penelope's girlfriend, who just got out of an unfair warlock contract. She's still learning to be more confident in herself and her abilities outside of the contract. (She's another NPC in our game, but this is another case where we share her lol)
Sonnet is a sweet, affectionate Tiefling with a big heart who has a wild streak a mile wide. She is able to generate flowers and plants wherever she goes, and gifts them to people she considers friends.
Hyacinth is Sonnet's mom. She's an Eladrin from the Feywild who's incredibly laid-back. She tends to have an "eh, this is fine I guess" outlook on... basically everything. She likes to sleep in trees.
(Art credits in order of appearance: @makiokuta, CR Scannell, @pianta, myself, Maki again, @judilyart, me again, @heroicn0nsense, Picrew, Maki again, The Honey Bun, Az again, Az again, @cookyys-closet, Judy again, another Picrew, Az again, Ninneko)
#zippyelly ocs#penelope meadowcreek#penelope#diana de broceliande#johni madcap#sonnet#hyacinth#vivi knotcutter#omg please don't feel pressured to do anything#this is just a silly excuse for me to share my characters#friends art
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sweet nothings
bernard x gn! reader
Summary- Bernard is overworked, but you make him feel better.
Inspired by Taylor Swift's Sweet Nothings, love that song so much and it just feels like such a Bernard song. Let's be real, he is a swiftie!
Bernard was known for his on time and upright behavior. He had always been that way. The elf knew that if he ever wanted to raise amongst the ranks within the workshop, he'd have to do what was right. what was right was being on scheduled and showing other's that you were dependable. Bernard did everything in his power to make the other elves, and of course Santa, like him. However, Bernard never knows when to take a break.
For instance! The year before Scott became Santa, the workshop was running as smooth and on time as possible. In fact, it was October and the elves had surpassed their quota! Everyone was thrived about, everyone but Bernard. Bernard, in stead of letting himself celebrate, felt as if this meant bad luck was coming. Bernard had spent all day and night worrying himself sick just thinking about all the things that could go wrong before Christmas.
That's where the lovely Y/N comes in. Y/N had a way of calming not just Bernard, but everyone in the workshop. See, Bernard was Head elf, but there are actually various head elves all belonging to their own department. Like Judy was the head of baked goods and hot cocoa mixologist. Y/N was head of North Pole security and the Effective Liberating Flight Squad unit (E.L.F.S for short). Everyone felt safe knowing Y/N was there watching over them, making sure nothing went wrong. The North Pole had its fair share of experiences with research groups, archaeologists, and other interferences. Y/N had it all under control. What none of the other elves knew, was how Y/N could calm Bernard down with on look!
Bernard currently pacing up and down they workshop, checking in on everyone and the toys. This would have been fine, even nice, if it wasnt he 4th rotation around the workshop in an hour. The elves knew it was his job and he was just making sure everything was running smoothly, it was almost November so they couldn't blame him! However, everything was going smoothly. This year had been the most productive since Scott to over! Bernard had nothing to be concerned about.
That's why Scott went to Y/N. Just as all the elves knew, Santa knew of your spell over Bernard. Once he noticed Bernard going to make his 5th workshop check-up, Scott went to find Y/N. The H/C elf stood calmly in their security room. The walls covered in monitors, each showing a different angle of the Pole. Y/N had always found their job calming, even if it wasn't always calm. They had the unique job of assuring every elf, and occasional human, that they were safe! Y/N was talking to Danny, a E.L.F.S agent, about grabbing hot cocoa for the unit when Scott came in.
"Y/N, are you busy?" The sudden, new voice caused the E.L.F.S to look towards Santa, each giving him a wide grin to greet him 'hello'. Y/N looked to Santa, matching their agents smiles.
"No, I'm not! Everything is running smoothly, did you need me for something?" Confidence laced the elf's words as they stood tall, well as tall as an elf could stand!
"Yes, would you follow me?" Santa's question was met the a sharp 'of course' as Y/N followed his lead out of the security unit and to the workshop.
"It's November and all of you guys are doing fantastic- as usual!" Scott praised, but his face showed a different story. He sighed, his hands had go to reach the grand workshop door's golden handle. Yet his hand never made it. In stead, he turned back to Y/N with worried eyes. "Bernard is on edge, more than usual. He needs to calm down. You're the only I know who can get him to take a break."
The elf softly smiled at Santa, their hands reaching up to rub their eyes gently. "I told him he needed to sleep in today, sir. He was so overworked last night, he came home and passed right out...couldn't even bare to eat..." Y/N thought that when they told their lover to sleep in a bit, relax a bit in the morning, he would! Y/N wasnt asking him to take the day off completely- just a break in the morning! Bernard was gonna be the death of them.
"Please get him to take a nap or something before one of these poor elves snap at him. I think he'd fall over from being shout at right now." Scott was just as worried as you were, you knew that. The Jolly man reached to open the door, allowing you to walk through.
The moment the door had opened, every elf in that workshop had their eyes on Y/N; However, they were only looking at Bernard. Y/N quickly walked down the spiral staircase as the elves went back to work, they all knew why Y/N was there. Bernard looked scared at the sight of his lover. He knew he should have listened to them. Sure, his partner was the sweetest elf in the world, but Y/N wouldn't hesitate to drag Bernard's ass back to their home and force him to sit down. Bernard had a funny feeling that everything was about to happen.
Y/N grabbed his boyfriend's arm, Bernard had never seen him so worried. his lover's anxious look was painful for him to look at, Bernard felt sick when he realized he cause it. He never meant to stress Y/N out, they didn't deserve it.
“Have you slept?” Y/N soft voice made Bernard break, thankfully no one saw him tear up as his lover was already dragging him out of the workshop. “I mean, I know you’ve slept…but like really slept!” Y/N exclaimed as they let go of Bernard’s arm and turned to him. Their heart breaking at the sight of a misty eyed Bernard. “Oh snowflake…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you…I'm just worried.”
“I- I kn-know…” Bernard choked out causing Y/N to pull him close into a tight hug, their hand rubbing his lower back. The two stayed like that for awhile, Bernard softly weeping in Y/N arms, until Y/N slowly pulled away.
Their soft eyes looked to their lover, “You need to tell me what’s going on? Everything in the workshop is going great, darling. Talk to me.”
Bernard looked at his feet. He didn’t really know how to put all his thoughts and emotions into words. A shaky breath left his lips, “That’s the issues…” He heaved out, looking to meet Y/N confused face. “I-I don’t know, everything is going like to well…” Y/N hummed softly at what Bernard said. Bernard’s fear wasn’t silly and Y/N knew he just wanted to have a good Christmas this year. It’s a big job being head elf. Christmas was the last major holiday of the year, beside the New Years Eve. Bernard carried a heavy weight, his lover knew that.
“I see, you’re scared something is gonna go wrong…” Bernard nodded softly as Y/N took his hands in theirs, rubbing their thumb across Bernard’s calloused hands. “I understand where you’re coming from, love, I do…but nothing bad is gonna happen. It’s gonna be okay. Let yourself have this one, celebrate.” Y/N’s smile brightened up Bernard’s life, and their words never ceased to comfort him.
“Yeah…you’re right. Maybe I was being a little to…much.” Bernard softly chuckled, looking at his feet once more, and then back to Y/N.
“I don’t think you could ever be too much, or maybe I’m just biased.” Y/N soothed, letting go of one of Bernard’s hands so they could wipe his tear stained cheek. Bernard melted into the soft touch, his eyes fluttering close.
“Sometimes…everything is just so much…” Bernard murmured, his eyes slowly opening. “When I try to take a break, something always tells me how I should be doing more…” The head elf looked up to his lover with soft, tired eyes. “I’m just too soft for all of it.”
Y/N looked to Bernard, his eyes just as soft and tired as their lovers. “It’s okay, I’m right here. Whenever you need to run, just run home to me.” love pouring out in their words like sweet honey.
#bernard the elf#bernard the elf x reader#the santa clauses#bernard the santa clause#bernard the elf fanfic#bernard the elf imagine#the santa clause fanfic#david krumholtz#david krumholtz x reader#x reader#x gn reader
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Too far
(Amber Freeman x Ghostface! fem! reader)
Summary: After Amber and you were forced to become the new Ghostface, you realize your happy end just slipped through your fingers as you snap at her
Request are here (with more details here and here) and here :))
a/n: it's quite short I'm sorry, got stuck at the end not really knowing what to do...
Warnings: Ghostface stuff (violence, blood, injuries, etc), angst, no happy end
(English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)
"Let me get this straight. You met a guy on reddit, started talking because you agreed Stab 8 was shit, and now he wants to start a new killing spree and frame Tara's sister for the murders?" you asked your girlfriend as calmy as possible
"And if I don't help him, he said he would kill you..." she added, looking down with tears in her eyes "I'm so sorry Y/n..."
She looked miserable. You never saw her like that. It was not her type to cry or let others step on her. You were her only weakness. She would do everything in her power to make sur you were safe.
You were the only reason she accepted to become the new Ghostface. To keep you safe. But that meant that she was in danger now. Because the bad guys never win.
She was acting weird lately, you knew something was off. But you wouldn't have imagined something like that. The thought of your girlfriend killing people - even if it was to protect you - made you sick.
"Hey, it's okay" you pulled her in for a hug "Telling me about it was the right thing to do. We're going to figure that out together, okay?"
Amber wrapped her arms around you and held you close, burying her face in the crook of your neck and apologizing all over again. She knew she fucked up and felt guilty about it.
"I'm so sorry..." she repeated "You're probably wishing you never had met me..."
"Of course not my love... I would never wish for that... You're the best thing that happened in my life..." you kissed her to wipe her worries away "Listen, here's what we're going to do... tell him we will help him"
"We? Wait no Y/n- I don't want yo to get hurt. That's too dangerous you can't- I don't want you to become a criminal because of me..."
"Amber, my love. It will be fine, I won't expose myself. I'll help you with the technical issues"
I was, in fact, not going to be fine. Taking care of 'technical issues' wasn't enough for Richie. He would force you to kill, threatening you to hurt your girlfriend and you if you didn't.
<><><><> ♡ <><><><>
That was it. Everyone was dead, including Richie. It was finally over. You were alone with Amber, in her house, both covered in blood.
You should be happy that it was over, but you couldn't take your eyes away from your friend's body. Tara's body. You felt like she was looking at you, her dark brown eyes wide opened in shock. Dead. Because of you.
You had flashbacks of Wes, how afraid he looked when you sunk your blade in his throat. How he begged you to let him live. How he would never know his mom was dead too.
You thought you would throw up immediately. It was a pure torture. Seeing him looking at you like that, terrified, crying for help. Every time you closed your eyes you could see him. Dead. In front of you.
How Judy died thinking her son was dead because she wasn't here in time. How she sounded when you called her. The panic in her voice, how it was shaking when you told her you gutted Wes. How you stomach twisted uncomfortably at the lie you told her.
How all your friends looked at you after the 'big reveal'. After you betrayed them all. How Tara begged you to untie her after Amber locked her in her closet. How she still had hope that you might change your mind and help her.
How she looked at you when you aimed at her with the gun, tears in her eyes, pleading you to stop. To spare her. How her eyes got wide when you told her you couldn't, voice shaking, tears rolling down your cheeks.
How the realization hit her. Her lips were trembling, she couldn't look at you anymore. She knew she was going to die of your hands before you even pulled the trigger.
And Sam's desperate scream after you shot her sister before her eyes... How it broke your heart to see her like that, knowing she couldn't protect the one she loved the most.
Protect the one she loved the most... That was what got you in this situation in the first place. You never wanted that. You never thought it would go like that. It was not supposed to go like that.
Amber and you were supposed to give Richie to the police with evidence. But she got scared. She thought you would've had problems too, being his accomplices, even if he forced you.
She told you it would be better to find another solution. Frame him for all the murders, not reveal yourselves with him. You trusted her. But her plan didn't work out.
None of this shit plan worked out.
She swore you wouldn't get hurt. She swore she made him promise nothing would happen to you.
But he stabbed you. Three times. And Gale shot you in the leg. And Sidney smashed a bottle in your face, leaving you with a deep cut on the left side of your face, going through your eye. You would probably never see with this eye again.
You had no idea how you were still conscious. You were so tired. The only thing you wanted to do was lay down and close your eyes.
Too caught up in your thoughts, you didn't hear Amber come up to you, until she entered your field of vision.
"Are you okay...?"
"Am I okay...? Am I okay...? Of course I'm not okay!"
You flinched when she tried to put her hand on your arm and took a step back.
"Don't touch me."
Now it was her turn to flinch at the tone of your voice.
"All of this-" you gestured toward the corpses around you, including your own wounds "-it's your fault. All. Of. This."
"Y... you don't mean it, right...?"
"Oh yes I mean it. Everything is your fault, Amber. If you never talked to him-"
"But you know he forced me...!" the way her voice broke should have told you to stop here. But you didn't.
"-if you stuck to the plan we wouldn't be here! You swore I wouldn't get hurt. You swore I wouldn't have to kill anyone! And look where we are! I killed my friends! For you! Because I got caught up in this stupid shit! Because of you!"
Your voice became more and more louder as your rage built up.
"I got stabbed three fucking times! And I will probably never see properly again! All that for what? For what huh? Tell me for what I did all this shit?!" you were yelling now, tears and blood blurring your vision "For you! Because I didn't want to let you alone! Because I thought we would get out of this before it got out of control! Because we had a fucking plan! A plan that you fucked up because you were too scared we would have had minor problems!"
"Baby... please stop..." She was crying now. Each one of your words felt like a stab wound directly in her heart "I- I love you so much I..."
"Well I fucking hate you!" you huffed, lips curling up into a smile - not a joyful one. "I don't even know why I stayed after you told me! I should have run away when I could. I should have listened to them. The others. Everyone. They warned me before we got together. They told me you were no good for me. But I didn't listen. I thought they were wrong about you. Turns out they were fucking right."
"Y/n..."
"You fucking ruined my life! I wish I never had met you."
Your tirade over, you took a moment to breathe, heart beating fast in your chest. You stumbled, and sat on the stairs, not giving her a single look. She didn't dare to look at you either.
She felt so empty, like you ripped her heart out of her chest and stabbed it, stepped on it, ran over it with a semi-trailer. She let herself fall to the ground, back against a wall. You waited for the ambulances and the police in this heavy silence.
When they took you to one of the cars, you were crying. Not even faking it. Real tears.
You didn't mean half of what you said to her. Even if you were angry - terribly angry - you could never hate her. You probably should, given what just happened. A part of you did hate her. But the other one was still desperately in love with her.
Maybe you went too far. Like this shitty situation. And exactly like it, it's too late to go back now. Even if you wanted to.
But you had to. It was the best thing you could do. For her.
It would be easier to go if she hated you. Easier for her to make a fresh start after. But god did it hurt... Telling her all this shit, knowing it would break her...
You lost too much blood, you knew it. It was a miracle you were still alive. You fought so hard to stay conscious during the last thirty minutes... but now you could let go.
The way Richie twisted the knife in your stomach probably damaged important organs, and the bullet in your thigh and the cut on your face didn't help. You had glass in your eye. Taking it out would probably kill you.
But it was okay. She was okay - physically at least. You were going to die, but she would be fine. There was no doubt she hated you right now. You hoped she did.
"It was the right thing to do, right...?" you whispered in the oxygen mask, as you felt yourself getting weaker
You felt tears rolling on your face. Your throat hurt. Your heart was in pieces. You regretted telling her all this shit. You just wanted to hold her before going. Just once.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it... I love you so much..." you murmured
As you started to slowly lose consciousness, your moments together flashed before your eyes; the first time you saw her, your first date, first kiss, her smile, her laugh, her sometimes questionable humor... her soft lips on yours, her hands slipping under your shirt, cold fingers caressing your skin...
She loved kissing you like that. You did too. You wished you could kiss like that one more time.
You wished things ended up differently.
She really was the best thing that happened to you. You wished you would have the chance to meet her again in your next life.
#amber freeman#amber freeman x reader#amber freeman x fem reader#scream#scream 5#amber freeman x ghostface reader
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my thoughts immediately after watching the 2023 Christmas Special
Can we please keep Geoffrey? He's delightful and thoughtful and the first sibling of any of the Nonnatuns to appear since Sister Evangelina's brother!
I chuckled when they lampshaded the fact that Colette could have moved into Nonnatus house years ago. Chummy got to live there with her child as well, but that was so long ago, back in the old Nonnatus house before they had to knock it down.
I was going to make a comment about unsurprisingly predictable surprise triplets, just before they turned out to be quadruplets, which did surprise me, a little.
But I am surprised that the research-loving show-off doctor did not x-ray Brenda in month 5 or 6. Or maybe listen for more than half a minute with the pinard? can you not notice the difference between 2 heartbeats and 4? Did not everyone and their mom get to palpate poor Brenda's belly? They even let Tim have a go just because he was there.
Sister Monica Joan's depression rang very familiar. When my grandmother neared 90, she complained about having to grow so old. That remark from Sister Monica Joan back when Nancy was new could have been a quote from my gran: "Child, I have seen everything."
If Judy Parfitt is contemplating leaving her role, I'm sure we'd all applaud her for sticking around for so long and inspiring a ton of request for a prequel series about the beginnings of the order in Poplar.
Does Heidi have a plan where she wants to go with the story of May and her mother? the parcel gave an idea about the difficulties with fostering and adoption in a constellation like theirs. Shelagh making an effort to make the gift from Esther suitable for May is symbolic for the care she gives her, taking what is there and adapting it to what May needs. It is also fine with me to show that even a privileged and educated family like the Turners can only do so much in a system that made Esther have to leave May at an orphanage in the first place. The message I'm taking away is that the real need is to try make sure children can stay in their families and communities whenever possible and that communities and families have the means to raise their children.
Did anyone ever take a closer look at the differences between the kind of pastoral care Cyril gives in comparison to Tom ? I'd be interested in reading it, but my knowledge of the goings on in church at that time is nonexistent. Of course, comparing a curate who is pastoraling full time with someone who has a different day job will be mismatched, but there are more distinctions to be found.
Phyllis did not come home refreshed from the refresher course. And the enema discussion is a treat!
The idea with the illuminated baby Jesus will absolutely be stolen should anyone ever make me put together a nativity display.
More thoughts are sure to come, now I'm curious about yours!
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Chapter 15
Summary: Lloyd takes things too far in his threat against Deputy Russell and has to change tactics mid-stream. Princess and Zach decide to push back against Detective Roth's allegations.
Word Count: 3,936
Masterlist
Warnings: Mention of drug trafficking, murder, legal proceedings, spy/intelligence agencies, corruption, stalking, violence, threatening, and discussion of criminal behavior. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.
The Princess & the Lawyer
Chapter 15
Lloyd stood at the stove stirring a noxious mixture of gasoline and aluminum hydroxide. Pungent fumes hung thick in the air, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose with a bandanna.
The screen door slammed, and familiar footsteps echoed through the hall.
“Ugh! What is that stench? Did a gas line rupture?”
Elliot’s voice rang through the house before he came around the corner into the kitchen.
His bright-eyed appearance was in sharp contrast with Lloyd’s sleep-deprived state. Knowing his cousin had been left in charge of their captive all night, Lloyd couldn’t help but draw the obvious conclusion. Elliot’s excessive cheerfulness was derived from a more potent source than caffeine - he was smoking ice again.
“I followed your instructions and made a copy of Carl’s phone,” Elliot said, buzzing with excitement. “Guess what? Sheriff Holbrook’s texts are still on there, tucked away in some encrypted app. We could use it as leverage!”
Lloyd shook his head. “No. We can’t deviate from the plan. Did Russell agree to a meeting time?”
“Eleven o'clock at High Meadows.”
“Not a bad choice. Lots of entrances and exits,” Lloyd said. “I’m almost finished here. There’s water cooler jugs filled with this stuff piled up on the back deck. Bring your truck around and start loading them for me, will you?”
“Sure thing, man.”
Elliot bounded down the hall and Lloyd rubbed his tired eyes. He desperately needed some sleep unless he planned on asking Elliot for a bump of meth to keep him going. Lloyd shut off the stove, checked the final batch of chemicals, and rinsed his spoon in the sink. He stuck his head outside to inform Elliot he was going to bed and headed up the stairs.
Just as he lay down, his phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Hansen? This is Judy Lange from the HOA. I wanted to let you know that the association swimming pool has been fixed and approved for reopening on Monday. Should I leave your keys in the mailbox for your house sitter, or wait until you’re back?”
Mrs. Lange didn’t actually hold an official position with the Homeowners Association. Her husband had campaigned for the post out of pure spite. His single-minded crusade against Della Collins’ window box planters and their “busy-looking” Ultra Star Petunias earned him a landslide victory in the election. He’d passed a statute banning all multicolored blossoms from public spaces and after his triumph, lost interest in executing the duties of his office.
Despite her eccentric husband, Lloyd found Mrs. Lange to be a reasonable person. Her annoying habit of speaking at a million words per minute was made up for by impeccable manners and a sharp sense of humor. Even Mrs. Collins, who was still torqued at Mr. Lange a year later, couldn’t resist her charms.
After his brain finally managed to process her rapid fire words, Lloyd grunted.
“The mailbox is fine. I’ll text my friend and let her know to pick them up.”
“Excellent. I apologize for calling you at such a time, Lloyd.”
Mrs. Lange’s voice carried a hint of horror, as if she’d just realized she had contacted someone in the midst of a family tragedy. Lloyd didn’t view the situation as such, but he recognized the apologetic shift in her tone as she launched into a long winded explanation.
“With everything going on, I am sure now is a terrible time for you… I just didn’t want to forget. You’re the most frequent patron of our athletic facilities. Well, usually the only patron to be frank. Mrs. Collins isn’t getting around like she used to after her knee surgery. Anyways, I’ll personally take those keys to your friend so they’re ready when you get back. And if there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
She really meant it, Lloyd thought, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. If only she knew what the man who he was supposed to be grieving had done to him.
“Thanks, Judy. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, darling. I’ll see you around.”
Already half asleep, Lloyd hung up the phone. His last thought was that he needed to call you. Hearing from Judy reminded him of home, and of you. It had been days since your last talk and that was far too long. Before the meeting with Russell, Lloyd promised himself he’d make time for a conversation.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You stalked back and forth in front of Zach’s desk, breathing hard, your fists clenched in frustration.
“I can’t believe his nerve! Can you believe this? Can you?!”
“Uh-huh.”
Zach grunted and continued tapping on his keyboard.
“He has the audacity to accuse us of leaking information to the media, without a shred of evidence? It’s unprofessional!”
Zach nodded, seemingly absorbed in his work.
“I spent so much time building them a database and now no one can use it. The whole process was exhausting and tedious and… are you even listening to me?”
“Yes. Roth is an infuriating bastard. I knew it from the start, and you thought he was cute.”
“I did not!”
“Did so,” Zach said.
“Did not.”
“Let’s not lose sight of our most important objective here.”
“Yes, let’s not. What is that objective, again?” you asked.
“Getting back in Roth’s good graces and thereby, restoring our access to information and resources.”
“I’m sorry, were we just in the same room? About twenty minutes ago, when Roth kicked us to the curb and Bishop had a melt down?”
“We’re not going to let our hard work go to waste. There’s more than one key for every lock, you know?”
“Uh… that’s not how locks work.”
“It is when you know how to pick locks,” Zach quipped.
“I haven’t even told you about my conversation with Mr. Liu!”
He resumed typing, his attention focused on the monitor. “No sister?”
“Well, that’s a very anticlimactic way of putting it, but yes. He’s certain that Julia didn’t have a sister.”
“That’s the conclusion I ended up at too.”
“Should we tell Roth?”
“I’d rather clear our names first,” Zach said.
“How?”
“Look at this.”
Zach pivoted his monitor to show you the screen.
You stared at a map of Arlington with a route highlighted in purple. Squinting, you noted the web address of a popular running app called PacePal. The account’s username was generic and the profile picture was an image of a man's athletic shoes.
“What am I looking at?”
Zach smirked. “This PacePal profile belongs to Peter Shaw. The account photo is of the same running shoes he’s wearing in the Twitter he shared last year of himself finishing the Miami Marathon.”
“Okay, not to make myself look like an idiot, but who is Peter Shaw?”
“A very tenacious investigative reporter with Rolling Stone Magazine. He’s also the only person who knows the real identity of the leaker, and thanks to his lax attitude toward social media security, we know where Mr. Shaw will be at two o’clock this afternoon.”
“So, if I’m hearing you correctly, we’re going to give Detective Roth a taste of his own medicine?”
“I intend to serve him a fresh plate of crow as soon as humanly possible,” Zach said.
You raised an eyebrow. “Ruthless much?”
“I didn’t pull in that jackass Lattimer without a damn good reason. We’re onto something with Julia’s supposed sister and if we don’t keep pushing the trail will go cold. What do you say, Princess? Shall we go put Shaw on notice?”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Lloyd called you when he woke, but reached your voicemail instead of you. He sent a text instead and dove into the shower to scrub off the lingering stench of gasoline that clung to his skin.
None of the clothes he’d packed suited the character he wanted to portray tonight, so he rummaged through Joe’s closet in search of better options. In the back, he discovered a garment bag containing the winning ensemble: a navy suit with wide lapels, bootcut trousers, and a matching waistcoat. It screamed 1970’s gaudy at the top of its lungs.
To complete the look, Lloyd installed the hair extensions he’d sent Elliot to acquire from a beauty supply store two towns over. Cutting the remaining extensions into three-inch pieces, he applied them carefully across his jaw, smirking as he remembered April's suggestion that he should grow a beard. The overall effect was a cross between Jerry Garcia and Medusa on a bad hair day.
For accessories, Lloyd raided Joe’s dresser. He added rings, a gold chain necklace, and a pair of lightly tinted orange sunglasses. The oversized frames elevated the look from vintage inspired to unmistakably costume like - a perfect fit for the character he was putting on. He slapped on a strongly scented aftershave he found in Joe’s medicine cabinet and instantly regretted it when his eyes watered from the fumes.
Resisting the urge to wash it off, he turned his attention to more practical matters. Joe’s gun cabinet yielded a wide assortment of armaments. He owned weapons from every firearms manufacturer on the market in the past fifty years. Lloyd wasn’t keen to give a hopped up meth addict a gun, but circumstances demanded it. He picked up a Winchester Renegade and checked the ammunition.
“Hey, Elliot! How’s your aim these days?”
Elliot turned around from his task of cleaning up the kitchen and did a double take of Lloyd’s outfit.
“Better than most people’s. What are you wearing, dude? Are we going to make a drug deal or audition for Saturday Night Fever?”
Lloyd snorted at the question and held out the Winchester Renegade.
“I need you to watch my back while I’m meeting with Russell. Just in case things don’t go according to plan.”
“Understood. I’m the second shooter on the grassy knoll,” Elliot said.
They took back roads to the meeting spot. By the time they reached their destination, Elliot’s old truck was covered in mud from the unpaved roads that cut through the vast Idaho landscape. They were deep in the countryside, hidden from prying eyes of passersby on the highway by miles of barren hills.
High Meadows had once been a thriving venue for team roping and barrel racing events. Now, the clay earth he remembered as being meticulously groomed played host to an invasion of dandelions and scotch thistle. The red aluminum roof over the pavilion had faded to a dull rust color and the cedar panel fencing that encircled the space was bent with age and broken in several places.
He helped Elliot unload the water cooler jugs filled with the gelled fuel that he’d spent the morning cooking. Lloyd marked out a circle, about twenty feet in diameter, in the middle of the arena and cut a small trench into the ground. With Elliot’s help he poured the viscous mixture into the trough and raked the displaced dirt back into place.
They hid their equipment in the bed of Elliot’s truck and moved the vehicle into a ravine near the main access road to High Meadows.
Lloyd turned to his cousin. “Go take up position on that hill over there.”
He pointed to a spot beyond the dilapidated grandstands. “It has the best vantage point. Also, there’s a thermal scope in your backpack in case the night vision doesn’t cut it.”
Elliot slung his backpack over his shoulder and disappeared into the hills. Lloyd took his position in the arena as the sun settled behind the horizon. He lay down on one of the risers in the grandstands, propped his feet up, and dozed until the sun went down. Suddenly, the crackle of the Bluetooth in his ear brought Lloyd back to the present as Elliot’s voice broke him from semi-unconscious.
“Russell is pulling in,” Elliot said.
“I see the headlights,” Lloyd confirmed.
The beams of Russell’s headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the arena. Lloyd leaned casually against a pillar on the far side. The position gave him plenty of time to observe Russell as he approached. The deputy was clearly spooked - he’d worn a bulletproof vest over his khaki uniform.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Lloyd called out in greeting.
Russell stepped into the arena, his eyes scanning the space, trying to assess the situation.
“Who are you?”
“Didn’t Carl tell you? We’re the Canadians,” Lloyd said, flashing a mischievous grin.
Russell’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Now, let’s get down to business!” Lloyd clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Don’t look so tense, Luke. I’m here to make you rich, and myself even richer. You see, I came here to shake down a former associate, but the trouble is this jackass died before I could get to him. So, I found a locally connected businessman and squeezed until he spilled your name.”
The deputy’s nostrils flared, a warning sign Lloyd waved off dismissively.
“Don’t worry about it. I took care of him.”
“What do you mean you ‘took care of him’?” Russell demanded.
“I took him for a swim in Redfish Lake, the kind you don’t come back from,” Lloyd said, punctuating that statement with a wink.
Russell’s shock was palpable. Lloyd gave him a beat to recover, but when he just got a blank stare in response, he shifted tactics and threw his arms out in exaggerated frustration.
“Oh, come on! Be fucking for real, bro. Do you have two brain cells left rattling around in that ugly mug, pig? I got rid of your dealer because, number one, he’s a snitch and I don’t fuck with snitches. Number two, getting rid of Carl gives you the opportunity to set up a more reliable distribution system. Isn’t that nice? An open playing field with no territorial disputes from the locals? You can thank me now, or later.”
Russell hesitated. Lloyd didn’t let the silence linger.
“Okay, then. You’ll thank me later. Look, about-”
“You really killed Carl?”
Lloyd sighed. “Would I lie to you? Me? I have a reputation to uphold, Deputy.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath, that’s what you are,” Russell said, edging backwards.
“Hey! We’re not done talking business!” Lloyd yelled after the man as he turned away.
“Yes we are. Go to hell!”
“Don’t walk away from me, pig! This isn’t the kind of conversation you can just walk away from!”
Lloyd’s voice echoed through the pavilion, ringing with anger.
Russell glanced over his shoulder.
“Oh, Luke… My number one rule is simple: I don’t fuck with snitches. Rule number two? Dirty cops who know your face are bad business. You see, they always end up being snitches. It’s like different flavors of the same ice cream. Triple chocolate fudge or brownie delight, who can tell ‘em apart?”
As Russell’s hand went for his gun, Lloyd flipped open his lighter and tossed it on the ground. The carefully prepared mixture of gasoline ignited instantly, shooting up and forming a wall of fire that raced around to encircle them.
Taken by surprise, Deputy Russell instinctively moved away from the searing heat of the flames an action that inadvertently drew him closer to Lloyd.
“Isn’t this nice? I find it rather cozy, like stepping into a bubble of security.”
Lloyd chuckled, his smile twisted with madness.
“This is how you conduct business?” Russell hissed, eyes glinting with shocked desperation as the flames continued to roar around them.
“I find it refocuses the attention when a deal starts getting off track.”
“What the hell do you want?!”
“I’ve made myself very clear, Russell. You need to work on your attention span. Here’s the deal: we become business partners… or you become a victim of what I like to call ‘spontaneous human combustion.’”
“Spontaneous,” the deputy muttered, looking at the flames.
“I never really plan on cremating anyone,” Lloyd said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world to discuss incinerating your business associates. “Every time I’ve actually gone through with this, the whole thing happens so fast, it really does look spontaneous. Now, Deputy… What do you say? Ready to make a deal?”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You sat beside Zach on a park bench, trying to make the most of the slight shade of a tree that offered a tiny bit of respite from the blistering August heat. The sound of approaching footfalls was a major relief. Five more minutes out here and you would have melted. You glanced up to see Peter Shaw, a man of average height with close cropped dark hair, nearing your bench.
Zach stood up and moved to the center of the path, blocking access to the parking lot.
“Peter Shaw. I’m Zach Hightower and this is Y/N. I assume you know who I am?”
The journalist stopped a few feet away from Zach. He was dripping with sweat, but still had the energy to offer a cocky smirk. He glanced in your direction and arched an eyebrow.
“The investigative duo. Where’s Hansen? Isn’t he usually your partner?”
“I read your article this morning. It was very interesting,” Zach said.
“Thanks. What part did you enjoy the most?”
“I thought it was very well researched. You even knew where the recent evidence was being stored. That was a very… interesting… detail to include in the article.”
Peter shrugged. “I take pride in my work.”
“The other little thing that jumped out and grabbed me was about the evidence collected in the Nguyen case twenty years ago. Your source criticized the chain of custody related to Shun Nguyen’s cell phone. That was extremely specific.”
Shaw’s grin turned from smug to sly. “I always make sure my sources have a keen eye for detail. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
“One more thing. The criticism you leveled at the State Police for handling the digital evidence from that cell phone? Well, it went over my head, but I’ve got a guy who’s a genius with that kind of thing. When I showed him the article he said you’d need to consult with an expert in digital forensics to break down those kinds of technical concepts as clearly as you did.”
“Actually, I’m just that good,” Peter said, crossing his arms.
“You have a degree in English and absolutely no background in tech. You’re not that good… but I believe your source is. The level of insight they gave you left their fingerprints all over that article, Shaw. Your man’s days are numbered. If you were as good as you think you are, his head wouldn’t be heading for the chopping block.”
The journalist snorted. “Do you run, Mr. Hightower?”
“Only when someone’s shooting at me. Why?”
“Just wondering if you get any other forms of exercise, besides jumping to conclusions.”
“It’s more of a step-by-step chain of logic that links together quite nicely. You really are a good writer, Shaw - very organized. That made it much easier to fill in the blanks. Does the name Leo McKenzie ring a bell?”
The blood drained from Shaw’s face, turning his lips white. Zach grinned.
“Good talking to you, Pete. Thanks for your time! Come on, Princess, let’s go.”
“You’re way off base, Hightower,” he called after you.
Zach gave him a cheerful wave. “Hey, Pete, since you’ve undoubtedly got my number, why don’t you give me a call next time you need a source? I can teach you how to cover your tracks so you don’t keep burning through informants.”
Then he lengthened his stride, forcing you into a jog as you tried to keep up. Once you were in the privacy of his vehicle, you gaped at him.
“Are you crazy? Did you just invite that sleazebag to call you?”
“Sure. He’s made more progress on this case than anyone else. We can’t ignore that.”
“How did you know who his source was? Did you guess?”
“Deduction isn’t guessing and that look on his face was all the confirmation I needed.”
“We should tell Detective Roth.”
“No. Let him figure it out on his own. He won’t believe anything we tell him at the moment.”
“But the security of the investigation is at stake!”
“Not for long. Shaw will contact his source and alert them that we’re onto them. I want to give Detective Roth the chance to redeem himself. Also, if he can’t find a mole in his own department, I’m not sure I want to work with him.”
“Right. Hey, where are we going?”
Zach turned onto an unfamiliar exit, one that headed away from his office.
“I’ve got to make another stop. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Elliot drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You really freaked him out."
"Mmmhh."
"He's going to send those drugs up in flames."
The insight was spot on. Deputy Russell’s wavering commitment to the sale was becoming more evident as dawn broke. He had raced back to the security of the Sheriff’s Offices after meeting with “the Canadians” and spent the rest of the night holed up there. Through the front window, Lloyd watched his shadow move behind the blinds.
The silhouette moved from left to right, and then crossed back again, from right to left. Russell was already a paranoid bastard and introducing a real threat to his life may have been a step too far. His restless actions raised a red flag in Lloyd’s assessment of the situation. Watching him through binoculars from their high vantage point in the parking lot of the White Rivers campsite, Lloyd decided it was time to ease the pressure and give Russell an escape hatch.
He was too spooked to hand the drugs over directly to the Canadians. After the ring of fire incident Russell was probably more likely to shoot Lloyd if he ever saw him again instead of cooperating with him.
“We’re going to plan B,” Lloyd said. “Give me a burner phone.”
He held out a hand and Elliot pressed a device into his palm. Lloyd dialed and watched through the binoculars as the blinds of the Sheriff’s office raised. He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew Russell was somewhere inside.
The call connected.
“Hello? Who is this?”
Lloyd spoke hoarsely. “Hello. Deputy Luke Russell?”
“This is he.” Russell sounded suspicious.
"This is Agent Ambrosio of the ATF. Do you have a moment to speak with me? Somewhere private would be best if possible."
"Yeah, yeah. I can do that," Russell said.
There was feedback as he moved, the the sound of a door closing. He must have gone to his office.
“Okay. I can talk now.”
"Russell, I'm calling about your boss, Sheriff Holbrook. Are you aware of the case against him?"
"Uh… you mean that thing from last year?"
"Eighteen months ago," Lloyd clarified. "The federal investigation into Holbrook's involvement with the drug trade has continued, which is why I'm reaching out. We need your cooperation."
"What can I do to help you, agent?”
"We have everything that we need to make an arrest. This is a courtesy call, Deputy. We're moving on him tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"
"Oh… Wow… Okay, is there anything I can do?" Russell asked.
"We're still organizing things. Holbrook is constantly armed, and we're aware of how high-risk this operation will be. I’d be more comfortable with the situation I’m sending my men into if we had your cooperation.”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need, sir.”
Lloyd’s mouth curved into a smile. Pushing too hard may have been the right play after all. His prey had just swallowed the bait without noticing the hook that pierced his lip along with it.
Game. Set. Match.
All that was left to do was reel in his catch.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Next - Part XVI
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Masterlist
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@dear-fifi
#the princess and the lawyer#series: the princess and the lawyer#the princess & the lawyer#series: the princess & the lawyer#lloyd hansen x y/n#lloyd hansen x you#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen x female reader#lloyd hansen x fem! reader#lloyd hansen au#lloyd hansen fanfic#lloyd hansen fanfiction#lloyd hansen fic#chris evans characters#chris evans characters fanfic#chris evans characters fic#the gray man fanfiction#the gray man fanfic
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Last Line Challenge
Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many as you like)
Thank you @phoenixtakaramono, @bisexualhomelander, @kosmochlor, @merry-andrews, and @plasticfangtastic for no pressure tagging me. ETA: Ugh, forgot to c/p this part above the cut: a lot of people already did this but no pressure tags to @eutz , @snow-white-9999 , @blaacknoir , @lunarpunisher , and yes you too @xieyaohuan 😉
Does anyone else find it hard to do this lol? My spatial "last line" in every google doc of a chapter in progress is a graveyard of text that I wrote but then removed. And my last line where I stopped is often for a good reason, not just because I ran out of time. So it's a line that is likely to go into the graveyard next time I look at it.
I don't know if this fic (chapter) will ever see the light of day, but technically this is the last thing I wrote:
Sometimes his imagination took him to more ludicrous places. Asking William what he wants. And when this coarse filthy-mouthed Brit would inevitably tell him to go suck his dick in the same tone as ‘go to hell’, by god, maybe he’d grin and do it, even though he’s never done anything like it before, just to enjoy the bewilderment on William’s face. He wanted to see William undone, dramatically, humiliatingly, by his own hand. He wanted to thank him for taking care of Ryan in the same breath as telling him he’d been waiting to see this sight. He wanted to deposit him back where he plucked him from, and in the morning have breakfast all together as a family, maybe William looking a little worse for the wear, maybe Ryan noticing but never guessing why.
The last thing I wrote of something that will see the light of day, but maybe not this particular part lol:
“He doin’ alright?”
“He’s… doin’ better each day, let’s just say that.”
“Looked fine in yesterday’s photos plastered all over the papers.”
Butcher shrugs. “Yeah, he was damn intent on taking a good picture. They had a whole operation set up in the flat, hair and makeup, them lighting umbrellas and white backdrop and everything. But he hasn’t even been up and about much. They had to airbrush his face, he’s been so fucking pale.”
“The baby get airbrushed too?” Judy asks and Butcher smiles because that's just like her.
“Not while I was on watch. I’m sure they touched everything up in post though. None of 'em magazine pics ever look real.”
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Judy what the fuck-
#everything is fine#everything is fine webtoon#everything is fine fanart#eif spoilers#everything is fine spoilers#everything is fine webcomic#everything is fine Judy#tw blood#cw blood#If you know you know#No fr Judy you saw an opportunity to kill and you went for it
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An Idea
So, I saw those leaked pictures where Spider appears to be in Avatar link unit and I've seen some discussion about if this means that Spider will get an Avatar or not. Honestly, I have to side with the "no" crowd. As much as I want him to have an Avatar, from a narrative perspective it feels like a cop out of sorts, since I personally think it would make the most sense to his story if he embraced his humanity (at least first, before potentially getting one).
So, an idea: Spider sometimes sleeps and naps in the avatar links. If Spider vanishes for a chunk of time and no one has seen him go out, the first place to check is the link units. Chances are, he’s sleeping there.
That being said, I thought to myself "hey what would a little kid do if he saw adults climb into link units and reappear as Avatars?" And then I thought "what would a lab of scientists do if the little kid they were taking care of just straight-up vanished on them?" So, here's the 5 am product of that. Somehow, Norm ended up being the parental figure here? Apparently, Spider collects those like they're Pokémon cards.
I know that this might not fit into the Avatar narrative from a canonical perspective, especially considering the comics, but I still had fun writing it!
Anyway, those of you who would like to read said product of 5 am, please enjoy!
----------
At five years old, Spider was a ball of energy, bouncing off the walls, falling off high places, running in between people's legs, and constantly getting involved with things that he should not be anywhere near. Like basically everything on Pandora, the lab had never been baby or kid-proofed, because no babies or kids were meant to spend time there. So, time and time again, someone had to save Spider from electrocuting himself, eating something that would certainly kill him, or tumbling into a concussion, all while he giggled and squirmed, unaware of his own peril.
Norm, who had wanted kids some day and definitely not here, thought he was going to have a heart attack every other second. Somehow, by some God-given miracle, Spider always ended up completely fine after each near-disaster, not a scratch on him, but Norm could practically feel years being shaved off his life. Spider wasn't his kid, but Norm had been relegated to primary caretaker, somehow. Probably due to his non-threatening aura. Regardless, Spider's safety had become important to him, so each harrowing experience made Norm's head pound from the whiplash changes in his blood pressure.
Still, the chaos was somehow comforting. It kept everyone from ruminating for too long on their losses, on their distance from home, or on the deaths of dear friends and family. When the darkness was encroaching, Spider would somehow come barreling in to either brighten everyone's day or, at the very least, pull their attention to his dangerous antics. He was never gone for long, so time for wallowing was barely existent, these days. Norm found himself thankful for that.
Then, one day, Spider had up and disappeared on them.
At first, Norm only noticed the strange silence that had settled over the base. Then, he noticed that it was well past time for Spider's breakfast, and the kid hadn't come to pull on his pant leg, whining for freeze-dried apples and the small rations of the cereal he liked. Finally, he ended up checking the kid's room. He had found it empty, the bed made, as if no one had slept in it at all. The kid was missing.
And now it had been hours, and Spider was nowhere to be found.
Norm was well past worry, and well into the beginnings of panic. He wasn't the kid's dad, but he was the one who cared for him, taught him, tucked him into bed each eclipse. Didn't he have a right to worry?
Did he tuck him into bed last eclipse? No, he had samples to run, so he had handed off the responsibility to Judy, one of the other scientists. That was, apparently, a mistake.
"What the hell do you mean you don't remember?" He had screamed into her pale face. "You don't remember if he got into bed?"
"I did what you asked me to do! I took him to his room!" She had yelled back at him. "He said he wasn't tired yet, so I told him to do whatever, as long as he stayed in his room!"
"Stayed in his room- ?" Norm started, then cut himself off, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, "That kid can barely sit still when he's eating. Judy, do you really think he'd listen to that?"
"Well, how was I supposed to know that?!" Judy had snapped back.
In retrospect, she was probably also terrified. She was watching the kid grow up too, but not like Norm. Norm participated in his growing up.
"You should have known, because he's a kid! He's just a -" Norm stopped, choking back a surprise sob.
What the fuck, was he crying now? What had gotten into him?
"Drop what you're doing. We're finding him. Now!" He had shouted towards the rest of the lab.
Shockingly enough, everyone mobilized without so much as a grumble and began searching the base from top to bottom. They checked under tables, in cabinets, the deserted base rooms, hell, even yelled into air ducts.
Then, someone brought up the unthinkable.
"Did the kid leave the building?" Someone had asked.
"He doesn't know how to wear a mask," someone else had reasoned. "Plus, they're too big for him."
Voices had started sounding like they were underwater. Who the hell was speaking? He wanted to throttle them, make them shut up.
"But what if he managed to get out?"
"He doesn't know how to do that, either."
"Maybe he watched us doing it or something."
"Even if he did, he's too small to get to the controls."
If Spider left, he'd be unconscious in seconds. He'd be dead in minutes. Dead before his life could really begin. Dead because Norm had to test some stupid goddamn samples instead of ensuring the kid made it to bed, safe and sound.
Norm wanted to throw up. He felt high, he felt drunk, he felt like the room was spinning out of control.
He took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to get himself to think. Where would the kid be? Where would his kid be?
It was no secret the kid wanted to go outside. The scientists made sure he knew that wasn't possible, but Spider would still ask, probably hoping for a different answer.
Two days ago, Norm had gone to visit Jake and his family. He had wanted to see how they were doing, get some time away from the lab, and eat some (frankly delicious) Na'vi food. Spider had followed him into the Avatar link room, asking him a million questions about a million different things. Unsurprisingly, the dreaded one came up, yet again.
"Why can't I go outside?" Spider asked him.
"Because you're too little and it's too dangerous," came Norm's practiced response. "You can't breathe the air."
"Then why can you go?" Spider pressed. "I wanna go outside, too!"
"Because I'm big enough," he had responded. "And I have an Avatar."
The kid knew the purpose of the room. He knew what Avatars were, and had a basic understanding of how they worked. He also knew he didn't have one.
Before the kid could go on his "it's not fair" and "when will I be big enough" tantrum, Max had mercifully scooped the kid up and distracted him with the promise of playing common room board games.
Back in the present, Norm's eyes widened. Panicked, desperate hope filled his chest. The units were practically sound proof, so yelling wouldn't penetrate their walls all that well, and the room was some distance away from the main lab where most of the scientists spent their time. The kid wasn't allowed in the room alone on account of the delicate machinery inside, but when was the last time a five year old gave a damn about rules?
Without even asking if anyone had checked the room, he sprinted in its direction, probably faster than he had ever run in his entire life. He skidded around corners, almost slamming into walls in his frantic hurry.
He whipped the door to the link room open, looking around. Then, not seeing the kid anywhere, he started whipping the units open, one by one.
Just when he thought all was lost, and that perhaps the kid did slip outside and suffocate, he pulled open the last unit.
And there he was.
Spider.
Relief flooded his veins, sweet and sharp, making his legs feel like they had the structural integrity of a Twizzler. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Norm stared at the kid, drinking in the sight of him alive and breathing.
The kid was still asleep, his little form small enough to curl up on his side in the unit, under the metal cage. One of his hands was curled into a loose fist, while the other was bunched in the too-big shirts they had been dressing him in. His curly hair had fallen into his face, a golden strand sticking to his mouth.
He was still here.
Giddy, insane laughter bubbled in Norm's chest. Tears pricked his eyes. His hands were trembling.
One of the laughs escaped his chest, wet and hysterical-sounding to his ears.
Spider stirred, stretching his fingers, scrunching his face, and uncurling from his fetal position. He reached one of his hands up to rub his eyes before looking up at Norm, blinking blearily.
Norm couldn't believe his eyes, fearing what he was seeing was a lie. He needed to hold him. He needed to hold the kid, make sure he was healthy and safe and not outside.
Norm whipped the cage off of him, probably with more force than was strictly necessary, and yanked the little boy into his arms. He gathered him to his chest, sobbing his fear and relief into the precious, miraculous, wonderful kid's head.
He wanted to say something, something important, but he couldn't. It was too much. It had too much weight, too much meaning. He feared it was too soon to release into existence, a claim he knew couldn't be taken back. Hell, he wasn't sure if he really meant it, or if it was panic that made him think crazy things.
"Jesus, kid," he whispered instead, between sobs, "Jesus, don't scare me like that."
He would scold the kid later, maybe send him to time-out, maybe ground him, give him some form of consequences for the horrific ordeal, but right now, Norm would hold the kid close, bury his face in his curls, and bask in the feeling of the warm, living, beloved kid in his arms.
God, who the fuck was he kidding? Who the hell did he think he was fooling?
When they eventually asked Spider why he slept there, the kid had simply shrugged and said that he wanted to see what it was like. They didn't press much further. Deep down, they all knew the real reason. They didn't need to hear it and Spider didn't need to say it. It was painfully, heartbreakingly obvious.
Years later, if Norm couldn't find Spider, and the kid wasn't with the Sully family, he would check the units first before letting himself panic. Nine times out of ten, the kid would be found there, napping comfortably on the gel packs. Norm, and eventually all the other scientists stopped bothering to scold him for it. In return, Spider would get up without complaint if someone needed the link for its intended purpose.
Then, one eclipse, an eclipse like any other, but still somehow not like any other, Jake had ran to him, panicked and terrified, and told him what had happened to his kids. He told Norm that Spider had been taken by the RDA, by a somehow revived Quaritch.
After Jake left, Norm went directly to the link room.
He had hoped, against all odds and common sense, that he'd find Spider in one of the links, curled up and sleeping peacefully, just like that day, just like so many other days.
Instead, he had found nothing but empty units.
His worst nightmare had been brought to life.
Spider was gone. The kid was gone. His kid was gone.
And this time, Norm couldn't save him. All he could do was weep, uselessly and painfully, into the silent, empty room.
A parent's worst nightmare had been brought to life.
#this is my first time writing fanfiction in like a decade please be gentle#I tried my best#I welcome critique though#I am absolutely obsessed with these characters send help#In the form of more content#Idk if I'm doing tagging right#I sure hope so#parental figure Pokemon card acquired: In Denial Dad Norm Spellman#spider socorro#miles spider socorro#miles socorro#avatar spider#atwow spider#avatar 2#norm spellman#avatar: the way of water#awow#atwow#atwow fanfiction
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Since we're at the end of Pride I thought I'd post an angsty queer history-themed IceMav concept that I've been toying with.
Basically, I remembered reading somewhere that during the early days of the AIDS pandemic, the military personnel with HIV were prosecuted for sodomy, discharged without medical coverage, and in at least one instance made to live in a special barracks wing. And this got me imagining the fallout if someone at Top Gun was discovered to have it.
I see it as a few months after the first movie, Ice and Mav are instructors, they've been hooking up since shortly after Mav ended things with Charlie, but it's strictly a friends with benefits thing. The key points are:
Someone at Top Gun is discovered to have AIDS, the Navy panics, closes off the base, no leave, no visitors, but because of the logistics and politics of it all (the White House and Pentagon really want to keep it quiet that the gay plague was discovered at such an elite symbol of US military strength) it's hard for the Navy to decide what to do next.
When the patient's name and photo come out, both Ice and Mav panic because he might've been an old hookup but neither is sure, neither ever bothered asking for names, they never felt the need for another night until each other (neither is ready to think too hard about that)
They were aware of the disease, but both have internalized homophobia where they think of AIDS as something that affects the freaks, weirdos and other non-conformist queers, not more masculine presenting ones like them.
With leadership paralyzed by red tape, everyone starts to get paranoid. They start second guessing how exactly it's transmitted. Asking for a test is taboo because it's seen as admitting you did something (had sex with another man) that would make you worried you have it.
Ice and Mav cut off all contact cold turkey.
After a week Mav shows up at Ice's because he can't take the loneliness and the isolation, and he realized that with Goose gone, Ice is his closest friend. Ice hesitates but lets him in.
Instead of their usual hookup, they just talk. They both admit they're worried they have it, and how afraid they are of losing everything. That leads to a discussion of their backgrounds, their daddy issues, childhoods, etc. They start to understand each other better.
They eventually undress the other, ostensibly to check for Kaposi sarcoma, but really to share some physical intimacy that isn't sexual. After they finish exploring the other's body they fall asleep.
Slider finds them the next morning when he bursts in, ready to tell Ice off for cutting him out for the last week.
"Oh for Christs sake Tom, I knew you were a homo. I don't care, long as you keep your personal life to yourself and don't start dessin' up like Judy Garland we'll be fine. But Damnit Tom, HIM!?!"
(This is enough to qualify Ron as a decent ally by 1980s military man standards)
"Yeah, him. Look Ron, I didn't expect it to happen, but he's stuck around and he's probably, no, he's definitely gonna be here for a while... At least if he wants to."
"I do" (this is the first time they acknowledge they feel more than physical attraction to the other, and the first time either has done that to another man.)
That is how their relationship develops past just sex
They still have a lot of work to do, a lot of internal homophobia to unlearn, and a lot of external obstacles (including more homophobia, fun!) to face, but this is where it really started.
Years later they'll acknowledge the cruel irony of finding something so beautiful in such a terrible situation and admit they weren't really the heroes in this particular chapter of history. But they'll never apologize for finding each other, in whatever way fate had planned for them.
Obviously, neither of them tests positive. The Navy finally mandates it for everyone on base after a couple weeks.
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Hi again! Yeah, from your bookshelf! You seem well informed and I wanna know the type of stuff you read and might recommend. I don't even know what to tell you for my interests because I feel like I'm just begining. Sorry I'm young and dumb still haha.
#1 you're not dumb and #2 nothing to apologize for :)
Here's some books I've got on my shelves or that I've read:
Men Who Hate Women: From Incels to Pickup Artists, Laura Bates
Pro: Reclaiming Abortion Rights, Katha Pollitt
Women, Race, & Class, Angela Davis
American Girls, Nancy Jo Sales
Lesbian Culture: An Anthology, eds. Julia Penelope and Susan J Wolf
Lesbian Studies, Margaret Cavendish
Hood Feminism, Mikki Kendall
Against White Feminism, Rafia Zakaria
Sister and Brother: Lesbians and Gay Men Write About Their Lives Together, eds Joan Nestle and John Preston
Another Mother Tongue, Judy Grahn
Aimee & Jaguar, Erica Fischer
Mouths of Rain: An Anthology of Black Lesbian Thought, ed. Briona Simone Jones
Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe, John Boswell
The Mary Daly Reader, eds. Jennifer Rycenga and Linda Barufaldi
Hidden from History: Reclaiming the Gay and Lesbian Past, eds. Martin Duberman, Martha Vicinus, George Chauncey Jr.
Testosterone Rex: Myths of Sex, Science, and Society, Cordelia Fine
Speaking Freely: Unlearning the Lies of the Father's Tongue, Julia Penelope
The Resisting Reader, Judith Fetterley
The Double X Economy, Linda Scott
Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture, ed. Roxane Gay
Home Grown: How Domestic Violence Turns Men Into Terrorists, Joan Smith
Intercourse, Andrea Dworkin
The Trials of Nina McCall: Sex, Surveillance, and the Decades-Long Government Plan to Imprison "Promiscuous" Women, Scott Stern
The Politics of Reality: Essays in Feminist Theory, Marilyn Frye
Only Words, Catharine A. Mackinnon
Everything Below the Waist: Why Health Care Needs a Feminist Revolution, Jennifer Block
Witchcraze: A New History of the European Witch Hunts, Anne Llwellyn Barstow
Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the Frontlines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture, Peggy Orenstein
Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men, Caroline Criado-Perez
Lesbian Ethics: Toward New Values, Sarah Lucia Hoagland
We Were Feminists Once: From Riot Grrrl to CoverGirl, the Buying and Selling of a Political Movement, Andi Zeisler
Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution, Adrienne Rich
On Lies, Secrets, and Silence: Selected Prose, Adrienne Rich
Feminism, Animals, and Science: The Naming of the Shrew, Lynda Birke
The Female Body in Western Culture: Contemporary Perspectives, ed. Susan Rubin Suleiman
Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza, Gloria Anzaldua
Flesh Wounds: The Culture of Cosmetic Surgery, Virginia L Blum
Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment, Patricia Hill Collins
Pornland: How Porn has Hijacked our Sexuality, Gail Dines
Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women, Susan Faludi
From Eve to Dawn: A History of Women in the World, Marilyn French
This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, eds. Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua
Seeing Like a Feminist, Nivedita Menon
With Her Machete In Her Hand: Reading Chicana Lesbians, Catriona Reuda Esquibel
The Disappearing L: Erasure of Lesbian Spaces and Culture, Bonnie J. Morris
Foundlings: Lesbian and Gay Historical Emotion before Stonewall, Christopher Nealon
The Persistent Desire: A Butch/Femme Reader, ed. Joan Nestle
The Straight Mind and Other Essays, Monique Wittig
The Trouble Between us: An Uneasy History of White and Black Women in the Feminist Movement, Winifred Breines
Right-Wing Women, Andrea Dworkin
Woman Hating, Andrea Dworkin
Why I Am Not A Feminist, Jessica Crispin
Sapphistries: A Global History of Love Between Women, Leila J Rupp
I tried to avoid too many left turns into my specific interests although if you passionately want to know any of those, I can make you some more lists LOL
I would suggest picking a book that sounds interesting and using the footnotes and bibliography to find more to read. I've done that a lot :) a lot of my books have more sticky tabs or w/e in the bibliography than in the text so I don't lose stuff I'm interested in.
Hope this helps!
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The Target
Angst, back from the dead, memory loss, amnesia, guilt, implied past abandonment, referenced past captivity and torture, referenced past illness, therapy mention
[Directly follows Tea]
The set up was cliche for a reason: it worked. No fancy equipment, as few moving parts as possible, and complete deniability. Jackson had taken the target to a small tea shop in the heart of the city. Crowded but not too busy. Bribing the waiter to sit the pair behind her table was easy.
The hard part was resisting the urge to turn around and look at him -
(She needed to be patient. Even if it was her Wolf back from the dead, she wasn’t sure her presence would be soothing.)
(…)
(If it was her Wolf, if Ghost had left him for dead, if he had survived all these years - would he hate her? Would he forgive Ghost?)
“You’re looking well, East.”
“Thanks. Helps to not be half dead and sick as a dog.”
The voice was…wrong. Too gravelly, too low - the accent though, the cadence of his words…oh, how desperately she wanted to believe it was him. A waiter brought her the tea she had ordered, creamy and warm and sweet. She didn’t have the stomach for it, thinking about the target behind her.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. I know it must have been a…rough adjustment.”
The man behind Liza scoffed.
“It’s been…an adjustment, to be sure.” He sighed, voice softening. “But I’m…doing better. Thanks to you - ”
“Oh, don’t you dare give me credit. That’s all you. And Nate, of course. I just dropped you at the door and left.”
“You didn’t have to. Help me, I mean.” East clearly meant to elaborate, but a waiter came by to take their order. Liza forced herself to swallow a few sips of her drink. She told herself she didn’t shiver at his coffee order - it didn’t mean anything, anyone could enjoy black coffee and four sugar cubes without milk.
“Speaking of, helping you, how’s Judy been?”
“Helpful.” The word was clipped and professional, but East worked some levity into his voice as he continued. “Starting to feel like a real person again.”
“I’m glad.” The warmth in Jackson’s voice almost took Liza off guard. So sickeningly tender and genuine. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re - ”
He cut himself off, their drinks served by an unwitting waiter. There was the clatter of tea cups and coffee mugs and sugar stirred with honey.
“Careful, it’s hot.”
“I know - it’s still good.”
“How can you tell with it burning your tastebuds off?” Jackson’s amused huff and East’s chuckling sigh only made the pang of nostalgia all the louder in Liza’s heart. Wolf (her Wolf) never waited for his coffee to cool; too impatient to wait - he always claimed it tasted worse once it cooled to a drinkable temperature.
“I’m glad you’re back, Jackson.” East’s voice was still warm, but there was a tension under his words. “How have you been? Is everything…alright?”
“Fine. I’m doing just fine - happy to be home, if I’m quite honest.” Jackson’s reply was immediate and open, but dreadfully vague. “Everything’s just fine.”
Liza couldn’t see East’s reaction behind her, but whatever it was compelled Jackson to continue. She could almost see him, in her mind’s eye: her Wolf…a decade younger, face pinched in worry - always worried - and eyes bright with determined preparation for every scenario.
“Things are dying down. Americans are keeping to themselves for once, and it’s looking like a cold case.” Jackson’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Liza could practically feel the tension bleed from the man behind her. “Almost out of the woods - just some finalized paperwork and seals of approval.”
“And what happens…after?”
Liza stared down at her tea, trying to picture it. The great and terrifying Ghost - who swore off apprentices after losing his first, his last - being told the man that was practically his son had survived. (Had been abandoned.) Wolf - who went through a hell at the hands of the enemy, who spent years abandoned and alone - survived and he could come home. (To a stranger in his room and the dog he loved long dead.)
(Her one regret in her life burned bright in her throat - oh, how he would have loved to meet Casey. How different things could have been if Wolf was around to protect her boy.)
“After…we get you home.”
“Which is?” East (Wolf?)’s whisper was hoarse, laced with a sad desperation that broke Liza’s heart. Jackson had told her he might have - she didn’t really think, she hoped -
(She was a fool, always blinded by hope and it’s empty promises.)
“I - I thought you said things were going well with Judy - ”
“Nevermind. Your tea’s getting cold.“ It was like a switch had flipped, words suddenly steady and strong. Whatever fledgling hope Liza had that this was her Wolf, that he could come home, died in her chest.
(Wolf hadn’t had a home to come back to in along time.)
“Hey, I just - East…it’s fine. We said it would probably take some time. We’re not in any rush - ”
“You seem to be.” There was a thin bite to the words, defensive but still smothered in that muted parody of nonchalance. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to. It sucks to think about. I thought maybe you…figured something out that I couldn’t.”
“East…love, I - ”
“It’s fine. I like my job. I like my friends. Think Al and I might get a flat together - rent’s too high to not have roommates in this economy.” East’s sigh was decisive, a harsh swallow before he continued. “I just - God, fuck - I like my life right now. And I don’t want to leave it all behind. But I know - I don’t know - what you need or, or want me to do in return for - ”
“Nothing. East, I’m not here to take you away I just - I didn’t know if you had somewhere else you’d rather be. But, if you’re happy here…I don’t see any reason for you to leave.”
“Really?”
(Why did the relief in his voice sound so much like a nail in the empty coffin they buried for him?)
Liza wanted to get sick; she stood up a bit too quickly, chair bumping into the man behind her. She pulled on the mask of a stranger, perfect and apologetic and calm, and looked a dead man in the eye.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry - ”
“No worries.”
Her heart dropped to her feet, his polite glance failing to betray recognition, even though she knew that face and those eyes so well, even a decade removed -
(He looked so much older than she remembered him. Tired. Contented. Scarred and worn by time and it’s ravages. Where was the soldier more boy than man she remembered? Where was his fiery eyes and burning passion? Where was his fight?)
(…)
(Was it better, she wondered, for him to live a life without that fight, that fire in his heart? God knew how it had burned her and everyone else who knew him when it was snuffed out.)
Liza took her leave, heart in her throat.
—
“Did you - ?”
“I don’t know him. This was a waste of my time.”
“I’m sorry - ”
“I’m sure you are.” Liza let her voice soften as she looked out at the rain hitting her hotel window. She sighed into the phone, speaking before she could regret it. “Agent Jackson?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know this Wolf of yours, but it sounds like he’s having a pretty good life.” She almost paused, almost stopped to consider telling him the truth before deciding better of it. Liza was far more comfortable in a lie. “Don’t fuck it up looking for something he doesn’t need found.”
“…Thank you, Liza.”
She snapped the phone closed, and closed her eyes, remembering the face she knew on a man who didn’t know her.
It wasn’t worth unburying that empty casket. It wasn’t worth uprooting a good, clean civilian life. It wasn’t worth opening old wounds. Wolf was dead, as he had been for a decade. Liza needed to make sure he stayed dead, and that East stayed alive and well and untainted by the world he left behind.
[Before Smoke Break]
(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)
Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath @genuineformality
#whump#angst#back from the dead#memory loss#amnesia#guilt#abandonment#past torture#past captivity#past illness#therapy mention#freelancers#*squeezing Liza like a squeaky toy* her track record for deciding she knows what’s best for people in her life sucks so bad#but she keeps doing it because she cares too much to let anything be anyone’s fault but hers.#and east…oh east. this is just a random Tuesday for him. it’s the last time she’ll see the face of her friend and he doesn’t even know it.#I am unwell abt my own ocs. *autism creature stare* I just think they’re neat.#in other news it’s [redacted] today so. worst case scenario I’ll explain whatever the fuck keeps me away from the internet#whenever I can get back. best case scenario nothing happens and life goes on as usual for my blog schedule here. o7#regardless just gotta get through the week and I’ll have a better bead on the risk level we’re looking at.#personal rambling done. mwah I love you people who read my goofy tags.
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