#incorrect mirror image

[finite-breakpoints]

Beck: "Hold on. Explain that to me again, slower, and listen to how you sound this time."

Cyrus: "So. The Grid and the System are two separate things -- the Grid is a place, but the System is a consciousness. And the reason the Grid is collapsing is because Clu trapped that consciousness somewhere, which destabilized the Grid."

Beck: "Okay. But seriously..."

Cyrus: "I'm not done."

Beck: "...you do hear yourself, right?"

Cyrus: "Shut the fuck up, Beck. Anyway, like I was saying--"

[conflictofthemind]

Not only do Robin and Will (and Mike!) have scenes together, they have a plot where the three of them visit Castle Byers in the Upside Down and here's all of the proof:

I originally posted this on twitter a month ago, which got a lot of backlash as well as prompting a certain someone to lie directly to my face about it. Now that I've been vindicated so much in the last few days, I want to share this mini-theory that I'm mostly convinced of at this point.

1.Let us go over the filming timeline: February 15th (left), Robin and Will at the McCorkle farm. Take note of the outfit that Robin is wearing here. February 20th (right), fans stumble on an Upside Down Castle Byers set in the woods.

February 22 (left), a pap reveals they were filming at this location the past week, and likes a comment saying one of the figures in the red picture was of Noah/Will.

March 1st (right), Ross Duffer posts what is (possibly) weeks 7-8 of filming, including a picture of Castle Byers in the Upside Down with the prominent American flag.

March 13 (but not really), we get a hidden shot from Episode 4. Oh, and an iPad in the corner that says this was actually February 13 - the same week they were filming with Maya/Noah/Finn at the farm.

Oh, but zoom in. Enhance image. What is that? It's the unknown!

A flag.... the body of a person with a dark coat and a white t-shirt.... possibly in the mirror view of a car or some kind of framing device. Now what did they film in the same week(s) that looks like this? Just Castle Byers and Robin.

2. Aaaaand then we get a little bit into Lovers Lake gate (literally).

The official version of the map, that could still be incorrect tbf, has Lover's Lake placed near the farms on the outskirts of town. There is also a fan-made map referenced from the actual show, which is different but still places Lover's Lake next to some farms and specifically Eugene McCorkle's farm.

Then we have this classic BTS photo from Ross of (possibly lol) Weeks 5-6 which would include the week of February 13 and 16th where we know they were filming at the farm.

What this all means, I won't speculate on too much, but I am fairly sure we are getting a mission with Robin/Will/Mike as they venture into the Upside Down (maybe Mike drives them himself) through a rift that has strategically opened near the farm because of it's position near the Lovers Lake gate. I think it's possible that they are investigating Will's memories, and trying to induce them to come back. The opening scene as we all know happens at Castle Byers. Will wants to go for his own self-development and discovery, Mike tags along because that's his boyfriend bestie, and Robin tags along after developing a soft spot for Will and to get a glimpse at how the two interact.

3. Where are the others at (why only them three)? Also in episode 4, we have Nancy, Jon, Dustin and (probably since it's his car) Steve as a group all travelling from the McCorkle farm into the Upside Down. Perhaps they split off into their own missions, or something goes awry and this is the reconnaissance team sent in to find RoWillMike.

The one thing I do have extra confirmation of is that Millie has not been involved in any of the farm scenes, even the ones filmed in April. There is no way El is involved in this plot. Millie was also on a filming break during most of February.

The others all likely have a plotline together (Lucas/Erica/Joyce/Hopper/El). Vickie couullldd be there though?

Fin.

[cryptidghostgirl]

HOLY SHIT

I just got to reading the request you did for me

Aka Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

And I love it so much???

Like it's so good 😭

Don't wanna bother you with another request but could you do a part 2? I'm just curious on if the reader ever succeeds or if alastor ends up getting their marriage back lmao

A/N i’m so glad you liked it!! a number of people have been asking for a part two actually so of course :) Also this is my reminder that I am not a woman in stem but an enby in classics so I get science things wrong,, i’m very sorry.

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2 (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Nothing I can think of please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 2,206

First Part: Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I can still be useful" Alastor told himself as he straightened the lapels on his jacket, "She still needs me."

Alastor leaned into the mirror, slicking his hair back just the slightest bit.

"Yes." he nodded to his reflection.

Taking a deep breath, Alastor stepped out into the hall. He didn't know why he was so nervous. Y/n had never caused anxiety to rule his being before, so why was it happening now?

Since her arrival at the hotel, she had stayed locked in her room. Two whole days had gone by and the demon avoided everyone and everything. It was not unexpected or out of the blue, she had always favored her own company above anyone else's but, Charlie was growing tense. She had asked Alastor to help bring their newest guest out of her shell, hoping their shared past would cause his attempts to be more fruitful than her own had been. For some odd reason, Alastor had agreed.

Fondness was the trouble. He was fond of Charlie, and he had always had a bit of a soft spot for Y/n. She had been his wife for christ's sake, there was no way he couldn't have fostered some sort of affection for the wildly brilliant and creative girl.

Before he really realized it, Alastor was at the door to Y/n's room. She had taped a sheet of loose leaf to the door. Keep Out had been written on it in all caps, in her familiar, messy handwriting. Alastor's smile softened slightly at the sight.

Y/n had not haunted his thoughts, had not been an obsession, since his arrival in Hell. While he had recalled her with warmth and a slight smile, even looked for her in Hell on occasion, she had mostly stayed out of his mind after his death. Alastor had had bigger things to deal with, more important occupations of his time. He had had plans. He still had plans but, everything had seemed to change the second Y/n had appeared and nearly flat out told him she didn't care about him.

Alastor was nothing if not prideful. His image, his sense of self, his power, it all played in to the idea of himself in his head. He had figured that through the years of their arrangement, the strange woman had come to harbor some sort of affection for him as he did her. He had figured she at least cared for him as a friend, that her irritation had been friendly, playful even. Clearly, he had been incorrect.

The door suddenly swung open revealing Y/n. She wore an cross expression, a lab coat, and safety goggles. Peering over her shoulder into the room, Alastor noted the way her hair was still continuing whatever she'd been working on before opening the door. He had never seen a demon with a form like hers before. It was perfectly suited, equally unusual as the soul it housed.

"I could feel you standing out here."

Alastor raised his eyebrows, bravado taking over.

"Really, my dear?" he asked, leaning on his microphone before him as if it were a cane.

"Yeah." Y/n flatly replied, lifting the goggles from their eyes and pushing them onto their forehead, "What do you want?"

"I..."

What did he want? Alastor was a man who always knew his goals, his aims. He was always working towards something, no deed without its purpose. It was only now he realized that he didn't really know what he wanted from Y/n, why he had really agreed to fulfill Charlie's request with nothing given in return. Alastor cleared his throat, banishing the complicated thought to another time.

"Charlie requested I come speak to you about your lack of participation in the hotel's group activities."

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"And you care what I do with my time because...?"

She tilted her head slightly to the side, her hands still on either side of the doorframe, blocking him from entering the room. Alastor sighed.

"You're not going to make this an easy conversation, are you."

It was a statement, not a question, and a slight smile cracked across Y/n's tired face.

"You know me so well." she joked lightly.

Alastor was ready, preparing himself to have to force his way into the room to have this chat. He saw the way her hand on the door twitched, and prepared himself to have it slammed in his face. Much to his surprise, Y/n let go of her hold on the door and stepped to the side.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to come in?" she asked after a moment, her head cocked to the side in a genuine curiosity.

Alastor nearly laughed. Always so inquisitive with regards to the world around her, always trying to fill the gaps in her understanding, usually at a loss when it came to what was considered normal interaction. He stepped into the room. Y/n's hair stopped what it was doing with the test tubes in the back and closed the door for her as she turned to face him. After a look of appraisal, she seemed to decide the atmosphere for the conversation and sat down on the bed, patting the empty space beside her at Alastor's continued hesitation. He sat down and she crossed her legs, watching him intently.

"You need to stop avoiding people, and the activities. You are here to be redeemed, aren't you?"

"Oh! I see what the issue is." Y/n smiled brightly, "No, I'm not."

Alastor's brow furrowed. He had thought it odd that Y/n of all people would seek redemption but, had figured the time had simply changed her in ways he had yet to grasp.

"Then why are you here?"

The little beast called hope clawed at the inside of his stomach, gnawed on his ribs. The want was unfamiliar.

"Because I need an angel."

Alastor froze.

"You need..." he watched her in confusion, "you need an angel?"

"Yep." Y/n nodded in earnest.

She smiled up at him, evidently satisfied with herself and her response. She had always been like this. Alastor sighed.

"Why?"

"Because I need to test my virus on one, duh."

"Y/n, what are you planning."

"Same thing as always. Actually, I could use your help. Maybe this isn't all so bad, can you get me an angel? Just at the next extermination or something. I already know it works on demons, I just don't want to actually let my little baby loose without knowing it will work on the angels as well."

"Jesus, Y/n." Alastor laughed lightly, unable to not.

He shook his head in disbelief and Y/n's smile slipped from her face. She was always scheming, always wanting, always doing what it took to ensure she got what she wanted. They were so alike in that way: complete and utter disregard for the world unless it served them.

"What? Did I do something wrong? Did this hotel already work? Have the exterminations stopped?"

"No, I... you really haven't changed."

"Well, I'm taking out the afterlife now instead of the living world, but sure." Y/n crossed her arms, evidently irritated by his remark, "I'm just the same. So are you, by the way. I've heard about what you've been up to since you died."

Alastor was silent in thought for a moment before he spoke again. He looked at Y/n with a determined gaze.

"Are you asking to reinstate our deal?"

Y/n was wrong, Alastor had changed, she just didn't know it yet. The hotel had changed him, whether or not he wanted to admit it. He realized the answer to Y/n's initial question, what it was that he wanted, in that moment and there were only three things. The first was the same as it had been for the last seven years, to get rid of this damned contract he was under. The second? The second he had realized earlier, in his room when he'd been getting ready to come to Y/n, he just hadn't liked it and so, he had ignored it. Alastor wanted to be back in her good books. More importantly, for some undefinable reason, Alastor wanted her back at his side. The world, he had realized, had felt empty without her, no matter how irritating and distracting she could be. Though his motivations were muddy, figuring out the reason for the want was never the priority. The end goal was to fulfill by any means necessary. It always had been, for both of them. The third was that Alastor secretly wanted Charlie's crazy plan to work out. He wanted to protect these sinners, to protect this place they had all worked so hard to build.

There was a point of intersection to be found in two of these three things, if Y/n answered his question correctly. Taking out sinners, taking an angel, could let all hell loose on the hotel. Convincing Y/n to make a deal with him, to give Alastor her soul, well, that would be killing two birds with one stone. He would have his imperfect little companion in afterlife and he could stop her from doing any more damage to the hotel and its reputation than necessary to ensure the first thing took place.

"I suppose."

That was exactly what he had been hoping to hear. The first deal had been under her terms. Alastor had been hoodwinked into it, unable to turn it down due to the information on him she had uncovered. Now, the tables had turned. Alastor held his hand out towards her, grinning malevolently.

"How about this, let's make a new one."

"I don't see why not." Y/n shrugged after having thought it over, her hand meeting his, "Things are different, we're both dead. The old one wouldn't really work anymore."

"No, it wouldn't, would it?"

"Yeah so, you get me an angel to test this on. I start participating more in the hotel. Deal?"

"How about this." Alastor's grin widened, his antlers growing as well as his shadows ate away at the room's walls.

Y/n didn't flinch. Nothing in her expression changed save a slight twinge of intrigue as she watched him become more monstrous by the second, more all consuming.

"I help you get an angel. You stick by my side, like the old days. That would include participation in the hotel and all of Charlie's plans as it is where I work for now. A metaphorical taking of a soul rather than a heart, shall we say."

He was counting on her lack of interest in the world outside of science right now, counting on her lack of understanding of how things worked in Hell when an overlord offered a deal like this. He had chosen the words carefully, getting everything right while keeping the truth hidden.

"I'll still have time to work on my project?" she asked skeptically.

"When there is time."

Y/n smiled.

"Deal."

Green smoke wound its way out from the point their palms met. Y/n watched it, eyes wide with intrigue as it curled around them, temporarily filling the room.

"Is that what happens when deals get made in Hell?" Y/n asked as she let go of Alastor's hand.

"Only certain ones."

"Cool."

She got to her feet, snapping her goggles back over her eyes. Turning to the table, she began to fiddle with her test tubes once again. Alastor retook his normal form, watching her with a satisfied smirk. He summoned the chain, feeling the cool shadow of the mellow across his fingers. Y/n seemed not to notice as the collar formed around her neck. Alastor didn't like that, didn't like being ignored. He gave it a tug and she stumbled back a few steps, her hands flying to her throat and her hair catching the glass beaker she had nearly dropped.

Y/n noticed the chain now. It was impossible not to. As her hair set the beaker down, she turned to Alastor, eyes fixed on the glowing metal. Her gaze traced it from where she held it to his hands. Y/n looked up at him.

"What's this?" she asked, eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, "When did this get here? How..."

She trailed off and Alastor's smile grew wider still. He advanced towards her, wrapping the excess chain around the handle of his microphone. It clinked menacingly against itself, spawning a sudden deep seated dread in Y/n.

She held her place, her shoulders thrown back and feet planted firmly. Alastor couldn't tell if it was all a show or if she really was not at all scared of him in that moment. He didn't really care, it didn't matter. She stared intently up at him in defiance as Alastor came to a stop about a half a foot away.

"Well?"

"Oh my sweet, you really have no idea what you've gotten yourself in to, do you?"

It was better than he could have hoped, could have dreamed. She was entirely under his control.

"Welcome to the rest of your afterlife."

----

Next Part → Till Death do us Part pt. 3

A/N I wasn't super sure how to end this off, I hope you liked it!!

@marukun @nanami1chu @i-like-potatoes12533 @boogiemansbitch @apenasandorinha @almond-t0fu @mygoldtears @ahellborn @winterisholding @misty-melody @themetalbabygirl @trash-shoot

[eveningepiphany]

pirates gold | H.S series, part two

[part one]

[series masterlist]

summary: challengers are arising as life on the ship continues. not only that, but all kinds of tension is building between you and harry. good and bad... and something that feels forbidden to even entertain in your minds eye.

warnings: swearing, tension, fluff, sexual mentions, talks of violence, harry being so so fine, mentions of kidnapping, one bed trope.

a/n: i cannot believe how long this took me to write, I’m praying I can do part three in half the time. thank you for your patience my loves<3

———

There are plenty of moments you are left wondering how in control of your life you actually are.

If you truly have any power at all— because sometimes it feels like everything is spinning relentlessly out of your grasp.

Well, especially under your current circumstances. Since your last 4 days have been spent as someone else’s prisoner.

Which, you couldn’t have predicted would lead you into the bathroom of your own captor and being left to bathe with his own personal collection of things.

Being in there was a shock enough as it is because… of course you’d noticed how well-groomed he appeared. But to see that he actually had things like soap and hair wash…

Another stereotype you presumed, was that pirates were horrendous when it came to maintaining a sense of personal hygiene. But it was another thing you were evidently incorrect about when it came to Harry. And seemingly the rest of his crew as well.

As you washed off in the shower, scrubbing away the collected dirt, dust and sweat off of your body, you felt almost like a new person.

It felt inexplicably good to use soap again, which is a luxury you took for granted much too often back home. But finally getting rid of all the residue on your skin was an amazing feeling. Including washing away the salt from your ocean dip a few days ago. Which was stuck in the crevices and creases of your skin, like it was slowly dehydrating you from the outside in.

So you took probably longer than you should in his shower… but it didn’t seem as time ticked on that he was in his room or at the bathroom door.

Not even when you eventually stepped out from the water, drying yourself off with a rag-like towel. Looking at yourself in the mirror, taking in your frame, and how the skin under your eyes is a tad less sunken in after a long shower.

Maybe it was from stress, or lack of sleep. But either way, you rubbed your fingers underneath them. Attempting to smooth out the remaining darkness there, as if that would work.

Settling on the fact what was left of them was only temporary, you decide to just get into the clothes Harry had given you. Pretending it doesn’t weird you out as you slide his black shirt over your body.

It was far from tight on you, and the fabric probably could’ve swallowed you up as it clung to you. And as you pulled the soft pants up, they were equally as big.

You gazed in the mirror again, looking at how his clothes fit you. Struggling to envision him in such simplistic clothing.

Suddenly, his body filling out the once baggy pants and shirt is taking up the confines of your mind. They certainly would fit him properly. And likely hug the muscle built on his chest... you have to swat the mental image away, before it conjures into something more.

So immediately, you jump to distract yourself. Eyes roaming around the bathroom until they lock onto the cabinet beneath the bathroom bench.

Your hands don't hesitate, coming to the cupboards to open them, pulling the handles so they unlatch.

It’s sadly sparse inside. Almost entirely empty despite a few miscellaneous items. A hair comb, a dagger sheath and a… sewing kit? You frown at the sewing kit, unable to imagine him doing anything as delicate and time consuming as hand sewing.

However, he does wear intricate outfits. He seemingly prizes them, actually. So, it seems fitting that if wear and tear got to them, he'd be keen to fix them. That's the conclusion you're going to go with anyway.

But regardless, in the small wooden confines, there is nothing you can steal for your own benefit. You think of shutting it, but in the silence something urges you to open the small plastic box anyways.

You drop onto your knees, sliding the container to the edge of the shelving, and hooking your fingers into the latches and pulling the lid upwards.

There are several little threading needles— even clothing pins— placed among regular cotton thread in an array of colours. But there’s also multiple wads of fishing line, which immediately makes you wonder why it's in there. Trying to pinpoint what kind of clothing needs fishing line as a stitching.

You’re about to pull it out, but conveniently, there’s a rattle outside of the door. One that indicates someone is coming into his quarters. You hold back a frustrated sigh, suddenly wishing you had of taken a shorter shower.

Your body kicks into quick movement, hurrying to click his sewing box shut and put it back where it was in the first place. Pushing hard on the latches that now suddenly don’t want to cooperate with your haste.

It’s silent outside of the footsteps that trail to the bathroom door, making you wince as the latch on the cupboard echoes a tiny clack as it’s shut.

The feet stop at the door, and your breath is held from where you’re kneeling. Not sure if you’re hoping for Harry or not.

“Y/N?” His voice calls with a rap on the door, “y’decent?”

“I—“ you slowly rise from the floor, cringing at the creak of the boards beneath your feet as you stand.

“Yea… yep.”

The lock jingles and the door swings open, revealing Harry— who looks no different to how he did almost an hour ago. Black blouse, black pants. Nothing had changed.

You feel suddenly vulnerable standing in his clothes in front of him, and you have to force yourself not to wring your hands at the bottom of his long shirt.

“Mm, nice to see you actually showered, ‘stead of tryin’ to break out.” He comments, nonchalantly stepping in through the door. Eyes scanning you in his clothes.

As he steps closer, the only difference you notice is the red bruising around his knuckles, on the hand hung down by his waist.

“Oh, I tried.” You mused, attempting to push confidence in your tone— adverting your gaze away from his bruised hand.

He hums, still staring at your frame, “To no avail, I see.”

“I suppose not.” You remarked, to which he shrugs. His body language is casual, but you’re still unconvinced that everything is normal.

Now you're staring at him, trying to decipher what the fuck is happening right now. Given the fact nothing about this seems planned.

“But I am confused...” You prompt, and to it, he cocks an eyebrow.

He steps forward, “Go on.”

“What exactly have you done in the last hour?” It comes from your mouth as an accusation. One that draws out a rash laugh from him pink mouth.

“Why is it you assume I’ve done something?” He's awfully close to you now, and it highlights the features on his face. Ones you're desperately trying to pay no attention to. But it's much harder to ignore the fall of his hair over green eyes when its up close.

“Because that just seems the most likely.” You stated. Walking to brush past him—shoulder passing his chest with a light touch— the bathroom feeling far too cramped for the two of you. And the air around you had suddenly gone hot with tension on your end.

You make your way out into his quarters, making use of your need for distance, and deciding to inspect the room while you could.

Harry turns on his heel, watching as you now suddenly walk around his bedroom like it was your birth right. Hands trailing over frames on the wall, and picking up random objects he’d strewn on the floor.

He sighs at this, part of him wanting to stop you from snooping around his place, but he’s also undeniably curious at your mannerisms while looking around. The way your eyebrows pull down into a frown as you pick up an array of things. Including odd ones, like a bag of dried out barnacles, and whetstones block he uses to sharpen his blades with.

“I bought ya up here t’shower. Because unlike many, I have a hygiene standard, darlin’.” He says, and you turn from where you were touching the cover of his unmade bed. Fingertips noting the softness of it. He sleeps here… your brain announces as though it’s unfathomable to imagine him at rest in his own bed. Which was tucked into the corner of the all-wood room, three circular windows running beside its edge.

Looking at his hand again, finally getting the courage to bring it up.

“And your knuckles are swelling up. All bruised. They weren’t like that earlier.”

He smirks, completely bypassing your question, “looking at my hands, ay? Didn’t pick you to be that kind of girl.”

You sneer at his stupid tease, irritated at his arrogance.

“Just seemed all rather impromptu, and now you’re back here with bruised up fists that you didn’t have earlier.” You challenge, after walking slowly away from his bed.

“You don’t stop until you get an answer y’like. Is that right, princess?” He scoffs.

But he knows you’re brilliant at reading someone, tragically so. And it’s obvious you’re not as stupid as he wishes. Because he watches as your eyes narrow, clear that you know he’s dodging your questions for a reason.

“And you don’t give answers unless it suits you best, I take, captain?”

To that, he chuckles, and decides to prove you right, walking over to grab your wrist with the unscathed hand.

“M’clothes are a bit big on you…” he comments, partially using it as an excuse to drag his eyes down your body again. Completely changing the subject.

“Tomorrow, we’re pulling into port, we’ll buy some stuff that actually fits you.” Despite being the one to decide this, there's a pang of disappointment in his chest at you getting out of his oversized clothes. He ignores it. The hand that's becoming all too familiar to your wrist is leading you out of his quarters, and your eyes dart to take in the room a final time. Hoping to commit it to memory.

“That’s a bit doting. Are you going to take me with you, or is that a far fetched wish?” You drawl, already figuring you’ll be locked away while they roam about. Buying you clothes while you sit prisoner.

You should probably just be grateful for the fact he is willing to spend gold on you, given the circumstances. But who would you be kidding if you tried to portray that right now. ‘Thanks for buying me clothes while I sat locked up in your jail cell!’ He would audibly cackle if you said that.

He chuckles at your bitter sounding tone, “I’d bet you’d be rather upset if we went into town without you.”

You scowl at him, having to bite your tongue as to not say anything rash, choosing not to respond at all.

He’s taken you outside of his room, and locked his door with the small ring of keys he keeps on him. Beginning a slow walk along the corridors of the ship, seemingly in no hurry at all. He pulls your arm to rest firmly between his elbow and ribcage as you stroll the halls, as though you’re on some kind of leisurely walk.

To your silent annoyance, he rolls his eyes with amusement, knowing you'll hold quite the grudge if he doesn't take you out when the ships docks at Sintir. “I’ll think about it, dove.”

The two of you walk in quiet for a minute. Clacking of shoes against decking echoes through the hallways below deck. You get lost in thought, until his voice quickly coaxes you out it.

“We’re stopping for two nights.” He suddenly clarifies for you, “After we buy you some suitable clothes, maybe you can come into town after dark.”

You’re skeptical of his offer, given that it’s not a guarantee. But you’re desperate to just get off this ship for a bit. Not even in an attempt to escape, you know that wouldn’t work even if you tried. Purely to be on land again, and around people who aren’t felons at sea.

So you soften your frown a bit, going quiet for a few moments. You decide to try the hopeless approach, no matter how weak your faith is in it. But maybe you'll get some pity from the man beside you, “I miss the towns, and being on solid earth, that’s all. It's all I've ever known.”

You were already embarrassed at how the helpless tone sounded on your voice. Maybe because is wasn't genuine, but either way, internally you gagged a little.

He laughs abruptly at your words, almost shocked that you attempted to persuade him with that.

“No need to pull the damsel in distress card.” He’d shook his head, smiling wide with humor at your expense, “My decision is impartial to a poor attempt at manipulation.”

“It’s not manipulation!” You turn to snap at him, dropping the meek mannerisms just as quickly as you put them on.

“Oh but it is, darling.” He bumps your shoulder with his own, turning a corner that reveals another set of stairs, “y’bad as any other pirate. Outside of the shitty lying.”

You shake your head, huffing out air from your nose as he leads you up them. The annoying thing is that he's right. However you still fight to prove your point.

“Can you blame me? I just want to go into a town and do something normal. Have a little stability amongst this shit show!” Your grumble made him chuckle, as it seemed to always do. Like as if he could not take a word you say seriously, even if he tried.

“I suppose I can’t fault you for it.” He hums, pushing a hatch open after unlinking your arms. He went through it first so he could help you up. Hands steadying you once your feet come in contact with the floor. Because suddenly, you’re on the bow of the ship. The afternoon sun out and warm on your skin as the waves are calmly lapping over themselves.

You momentarily forget that you’re pissed off with him. All you can focus on is the fresh air and golden sun.

His eyes take in your deep inhalation, and the way you look so relieved to be outside. Understandable given the fact you spent 2 days locked in a tiny room.

A feeling he can’t name stirs in his chest. And the voice in the back of his head is suddenly encouraging taking you into Sintir while the ships docked there.

“It’s… nice out.” You exhale, your gaze veering to him momentarily as you speak. His green eyes are locked onto yours, and you quickly make to slide your attention back out on the blue water.

Which is easy to look at, since it doesn’t technically end. Just melts into the equally blue horizon where the sky meets the sea.

“It almost always is, up this far north.” He nods, pushing the sudden emotion away. “It won’t stay that way once we leave the port. There’s a storm well in due this week.”

You mentally file away that you’re up north, but a part of you gets anxious with the idea of being out while there’s a storm.

On land, you always enjoyed them. They brought a sense of serenity to you. The thunder and rain sometimes came so loud in Kelna it drowned out everything going on in your life. Temporarily, of course, however it was nice while it lasted. But on water was a different story. You’d heard they’re rocky rides, treacherous even. That ships often enter a storm, and don't come out the other side.

“Don’t look s’worried.” He comments at your suddenly terrified energy, he places a palm on your back to usher you forwards.

“Just that I really don’t want to die out here.” You sigh, not denying the fear since it’s clearly that obvious.

You walk willingly wherever he’s decided to take you, sharing a short wave to the man up by the ships wheel. He had messy head of hair, one that you imagined when it was windy, would blow all over the place.

“Have faith in us, Y/N. We’ve weathered many storms jus’ fine.”

“Oi, H,” the scruffy pirate you just waved at calls down to his captain, as he tracks down the stairs with you. Going from the steering deck to the main deck.

Harry tilts his head over his shoulder, pausing on the stairs where you both stand, indicating he’s listening with a nod. You briefly trail your eyes over his side profile. The curve of his nose, and the cut of his jaw.

But his crewmate barely gets a couple words out before he’s interrupted shortly after, “How did ya go wi—“

“Fine, Liam.” Abruptly, Harry cuts in. Not rudely, but curtly.

The man on the wheel, who now has a name to you— Liam— alternates his gaze between the two of you suddenly. Like he’s dawning upon why he just got interrupted.

“Ah, I see.” He nods, quickly busying himself with what he was doing beforehand.

Harry continues walking you down a set off stairs, back down to main deck.

“I’m going to assume that was about earlier, and has something to do with why you dragged me out of my cell.” You say, attempting indifference.

“You’d assume right.” He nods, but you wait for him to say something more— which he doesn’t.

You sigh in frustration, “I'll also take that's why I'm still up here, and not locked back up."

You're trying to gauge yet again how much of his actions are kindness, and how much of them are out of an attempt to gain something.

"Not why you're out here, 'm tryna give ya a bit of sun." He brings you to a stop at the far left of the main deck, smirking as he talks, "I've got to patch up a old sail, incase we need it. No better place to do it but out here."

He pays no mind to you as he kneels down to a storage unit a few feet away from you in the floor, unlatching it, and hauling out a huge canvas sail it. The sheet crinkles as he carries it out, and dumps it on the wooden deck.

You frown, wondering if he's the only one on the ship who can do any sort of needlework... because it seems like the only reasonable option as to why he's doing it himself. So you ask, "Why exactly are you doing it?"

He laughs, striding back over to pull a much larger sewing kit from the bottom of the storage space, and also sheet of spare canvas.

"You are filled with clichés of us, darling. What is makin' y'ask that?" He chucks the kit and extra fabric down, following to sit shortly after.

You're still standing as you try to conjure up an answer that doesn't sound unbelievably stupid. But he is cross-legged, pulling the damaged side of the sail over his muscular thighs.

"Because..." You pause, still unsure how to phrase it as you stare at him. You're looking at his side profile again, and it's lit by the overhead sun.

He glances your way, essentially looking up at you from where he's positioned on the floor. He finishes your sentence for you, "'Cause I'm a captain? And why would I do something productive for myself and my crew when I could make someone below me do it?"

"Well... basically."

"You're going t’find out very quickly the dynamic between me ‘n my crew." he pulls open the sewing box, filled with larger needles, and thick thread.

"I may be their Captain, but we’re all like brothers. I see them as that, not as my workers. They are my team, and we help out whenever and wherever we can." He states, sounding completely sincere, "And, I'm the only one that can actually hand sew things, so here we are."

"Here we are..." you parrot quietly, almost finding it endearing the way he talks about his crew mates.

Delicately, he’s threading up a needle and starting to take it through the sail and its new panel, lined up over the relatively large tear. His hands are steady, hair fallen over his eyes as he concentrated on starting the stitch. You stare at the dark bruising over his knuckles, and you swear that wasn’t as deep a shade earlier.

Without thought, you slowly sink to the ground, back resting against the side of the boat, not waiting long before you start to ask him more questions.

“Whatever happened to put that large of a hole in your sail?” You’d quizzed.

He knew it wouldn’t take long before you started to pry him with more of your wonders, “A cannonball.”

Your face can’t hide the shock, because of how casually he answered you. Your lips were parted in surprise at his response when he glanced over to you. A smirk over his mouth, popping a dimple on his cheek.

“Jus’ a run in with another ship.” He mused, “They tore a hole in our sail, and we tore a hole into the side of their boat.”

You almost sputter a laugh, of course he has to brag about not having lost that altercation.

“I hope you have a winning streak under your belt.” You shake your head, smiling a little.

“Why? Because I’m carryin’ such precious cargo.” Alluding to you with a charming cadence to his voice.

You’re stretched out in the sun as he watches you, and you almost look happy. If he didn’t know any better. But maybe you are a little. Circumstantially, you’re probably far from it. But in this moment, you look calm in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“Obviously. And all this would be for nothing if I go down with your ship and you don’t get your gold.”

“Tragic really, after putting up with y’through all this. Including jumpin' off m'own ship.” He teases.

“It’s been like, 5 days. I cant have been that annoying outside of the jumping thing.” You can’t tell if you’re offended at his jabs like you should be. You wish you fully were, but the banter is almost pleasing to have with him. It gives you something to laugh at. And also gives you an excuse to be insolent with him.

“Mm, if only y’knew…” he sighs in faux exhaustion, a tiny laugh escaping through his façade.

The way the ship cruised through the waves was inexplicably calming to experience up here. With the sun and the warm around surrounding you.

His hands were weaving the needle through the material, it’s mesmerising to watch. He’s definitely skilled at it, since it has hardly taken him long to get one side sewed on.

“You look quite content over there.” He comments, not looking up from where he was.

The observation stuns you a little, because of how true it was.

“I… it’s hard not to be after being in a tiny wooden room for 2 days straight.” You answer, but it doesn’t feel like the only reason why.

“Y'know,” he begins, “I excepted someone like you to have the worst set of sea sickness, and to be constantly terrified, but you've seemingly proved me wrong.”

“Have you underestimated me?”

“Possibly.” He remarks. And you don’t answer him again.

You're struck with the realisation that you actually don’t hate being above deck. Or really on the ship— outside of the reasons to why you’re on it. You think you might have underestimated yourself.

Like a reel of film, your mind flashes through images of a life like this. Outside of the damn cell at the bottom of the boat.

One where you spend your days free on the water. Both free in regards to your imprisonment here— but also from your life and looming responsibilities at home.

You envision yourself suddenly in the most pirate-like attire, standing up on those huge masts like they do in fictions sold at the bookstore— the odd one that would romanticise the life of piracy instead of completely defacing it.

It hits you like a slap in the face. One that stings and burns on the side of your cheek, lingering for days after it initially impacted.

You have to forcibly squeeze your eyes closed, because there is no room to have feelings like that in your already muddled brain.

Harry speaks up from where you forgot he was sitting, “What exactly is Kelna like?”

“Prison.” You blurt, hand almost coming to slap over your own mouth in surprise.

Your head is in disarray, and that somehow slipped its way out. Because all the sudden, you realise you almost felt more trapped in your own home than you honestly do here.

You tried to escape this ship out of fear that you would be killed— or sent somewhere worse— but when that element is removed from the equation, you’re certain anything is better than Kelna.

“Im kidding—“ you hurriedly spew out, but his head is turned to frown at you, “it’s nice… it’s great. Very lovely people and we have… yea. It’s great.”

Of course, you love your family. Some of them. Your younger brother and older brother, your younger sister. But outside of your siblings, there were few people to love.

“Sound like y’trying to convince yourself more than me.”

You guess you kind of were in a sense. And a part of you wanted to just say how much you never wanted to go back, if that were an option. You only ever told your older brother Poe about how desperate you were to get away from the court. One person. One soul out of this whole world of them knows.

Only Poe knows how terrified you were that Misha— Kelna's infamous prophet— would come to the podium to speak the most misconstrued riddle, that supposedly announced you were to take the crown. Your own stomach churns at the concept.

But revealing that to Harry felt like giving away a vulnerable piece of yourself. He doesn't deserve to be the second person you entrust with something so pressing for you. Which you remind yourself that you swore not to lay an ounce of trust in this man’s hands. That your impartialness to a separate life here is due to your life at home. And that freedom on this ship is unlikely.

“I’m not…” you breathe out in defeat. Trying desperately to steer clear of the subject, because its easy to drag you into a pit of ever-welling anxiety.

However, he can sense your complete shift in energy. This is your first time really talking about home. And it seems like you have more than bitterness to it. He expected a whimsical answer. One that showed your longing for return, or that you even valued part of being in a court. But he got nothing of the sorts.

It slips from his soft mouth before he can stop it, “Are you not safe at home?”

He’s completely disregarded his sewing venture, and has turned to look right at you. His features have softened, and he looks genuinely a little concerned. But you brush it off for deceit. Of course he would want to know something like that. Want to pick away at your seams until all the sudden you're unraveling in the palm of his hands, tearing your whole village down with it.

“Yes!” You jump to clear that up. Secondly feeling like he's almost babying you.

“Probably safer there than I am here.” You bark, but it’s hardly true if you really think about it. Attempts on a royals life are always a threat, and it’s happened to your family members before. Which transcends into a whole other story, equally as painful for you as anything else at home.

His brows pull into a frown. He realises he’s struck something sensitive here. The topic seems to make you recoil completely. Your body language has changed, just like that. Straight from relaxed to on edge.

“I feel like there's a pretty equal risk." He provides, picking back up the threaded needle. Seeing what more he can coax out of you.

"I—" you cut yourself off.

"I am fine." Your tone is conclusive.

"Is that why you always sneak out of your royal residence in the middle of the night?" He pushes, a sarcastic lilt to his deep voice.

"That isn't any of your business!" You groan, "I'm not asking why it is you're a felon at sea, or your tragic past life that's lead you here, am I?"

"But you probably wonder..." he smirks, impartial to your jab.

"I don't, you ass!" You state defiantly.

"I'm just trying to gauge how much you actually like your homeland."

You scoff in disbelief, "Oh, piss off. You just want something to hold over me."

It's clear to him something much deeper is going on than what he initially thought. But its also evident that you are far from interested in talking about it now. So, he files away what information and suspicion he had, and finally allows the subject to change.

"Whatever princess... y'getting mouthy, and I've gathered that usually doesn't end well for either of us." he rolls his eyes in amusement, "You'll have to to tell me what kind of clothes you like, so I know what I'm in for."

"It only doesn't end well because you're so goddamn pushy." You huff.

"This is why you ended up locked in a cell for two days." his tone is airy, considering the topic, "Also, best of y'to recall I'm the one who decides whether or not ya coming off the ship tomorrow."

You hold back your bitter quip at his reminder, but not the deep sigh from your lungs. You feel stressed. Overwhelmed even. Which is the only good thing about your tiny room below deck, its stable. You know what you get down there. Yourself, and no personal questions that leave you reeling.

He finishes his double stitch in silence. Thinking of you, and wondering what exactly your perception of your home life is. In a long answer— not the short and guarded ones he's currently receiving.

You sit, still in the sun, but feeling significantly more riled up than earlier. That's when Harry stands from his work, and your eyes dart to the patch that's now one with the sail. Intricately sewed in place, with a clearly detail-oriented eye.

"An' she's done." He nods proudly, talking to himself as he picks the complete task up from where it was spread on the deck. Carrying it back into where it came from— along with the closed sewing kit. Laying it folded in the floor compartment and latching it closed.

His hands brush themselves off along his black pants. They admittedly fit him perfectly. Nipped in at his sculpted waist, and outlining his likely firm thighs.

His green eyes slanted down to you, as if he could feel your own gaze burning into his tanned skin. He smirks, a dimple popping out on his cheek as he looked at you.

He was trouble.

He looked at you like you were a game to be played. A challenge to be conquered. And somehow you met him right at that very level. You wanted to prove something to him— and the thing is, you don't even know what.

Its not something you can reverse, or take back. It's already long started, the second you pushed back from his demands when you first met.

His legs that you were just studying stride over to where you sit. He towers over you, examining you with a silent and smug smile.

"A corset, perhaps?" He proclaimed without context, and your face twists in confusion.

"Although, I've heard they are very hard to get on and off a woman." It clicks in your brain he's currently talking about you. Imagining you in the likes of a corset.

It's like he was pondering it aloud just for his own sick enjoyment, because he keeps going as your expression quickly bleeds into a scowl.

"And, there is no doubt in my mind you'd drive your own elbow into my stomach before you let me help lace you into a corset. Or out of it." His voice has dropped an octave, and his chocolatey hair has fallen over his forehead again. For such a heinous topic, he has the face of an angel. Maybe a fallen one... but an angel nonetheless.

"You would be correct." You confirm, "And I spend enough time in corsets at home. God forbid I wear one when theres no need for it."

He suddenly juts a hand out for you to take, which you stare at for an awfully long time, analysing the dark marks over his knuckles. Eventually settling to let him help you stand. It pulls you up effortlessly despite its visibly injury, and you feel the rough parts of his large hand as it cups yours.

"Espcially if im going to be laying around in a cell, whats the point in that?"

He still has grip on your hand, "Oh, dove, y'not going back down there for a little bit."

Your gaze narrows immediately. And you ask the first question and only question that makes sense in your mind.

"Who else is down there?"

"Someone who deserves to be left in the room with the cuff holders on the wall. Attached to them."

Your stomach sinks a little, recalling him saying thats sectioned off for people who have done truly bad things. Seems like it would explain his battered up knuckles perfectly.

But with the closest thing you’ve gotten to an answer all day, you’re quick to mentally move onto what the effects you the most.

"Where am i gonna..."

He says with a completely unfazed expression, "With me."

“With you?”

“That’s what I said, no?” He raises his brows, “unless you’d rather be down there with him. Who we’d then certainly have to kill once he knows you’re here.”

“Christ.” A wave of shock rocks through you at his vulgar wording, “can you put me nowhere else?”

“No.” He states, starting to walk with your hand gripped in his, “it’s just for the night. Don’t worry s’much.”

“Don’t worry? You just told me you would have to kill a man if I chose to stay away from you.”

You’re glaring at him as he holds open a door for you— one that leads to another kitchen room— despite you’re bitter look, he’s unbothered entirely.

“Let’s get you something to eat. Allow ya to process the fact you’re stuck with me for a night.”

———

Your night was significantly different to all the others you’d had on the ship this past week.

The evening had come on relatively quick. You’d sat above deck after he fed you some fruit, and watched the sun set as his crew gathered to share a pint.

You observed their dynamics, and the way a few men got themselves silly on one too many beers. Stumbling all over the deck.

Harry stayed closer to sober though—a bit tipsy, but nothing drastic— and as evening bleed into night, many of the boys had turned in for bed around midnight.

His blonde crew mate had shouted out for you to come down and have a pint, but you laughed it off. His drunken plea seeming far out of line considering the circumstances.

Not long after most of them had left, Harry came up to where you sat. You were perched atop a step on the stairs, and you know he’d been watching you. Making sure— as you stayed a fair distance away— that you didn’t disappear.

His hand had gestured out to you again as he had apparently come to collect you. You stood without it’s help, and he snorted a bitter laugh.

“You're infuriating, you know? Unbelievably so. And I feel it all the way in my stomach.” The lilt in his voice is intoxicating. He sounds like he disdains you, yet is addicted to the feeling all at the same time.

He’s standing the step below yours, and once you had fully straightened out, you were slightly above him. It almost gave you an added boost of confidence, “Right in here?”

Your hand reached out to breach the minimal distance, brushing your pointer and middle finger against where the skin of his stomach is.

His hand grabbed around your wrist, staring at you— he pressed your palm flat against his chest— you could feel the warmth of his skin beneath the sheer black blouse he was still in.

His bruised knuckles are pressed over yours. The dark spots a mosaic of blacks and blues— you wonder how bad it would hurt if you pressed down on them. Just out of spite, of course.

“Right there.” He affirmed.

“Too bad you have to room with me tonight.” You sigh in mock sympathy.

He looks like he’s about to say something else, when he bites his tongue and does his usual thing— tugging you along wherever he plans to go.

His leftover mates say goodnight as he walks past— all of them regarding you as well, surprisingly.

You’re lead to his quarters as you’d suspected, and you’re now faced with the situation of how this is going to all pan out.

Once inside the dark room, he lights a wall candle with a match— that he pulled from god knows where— casting the space in a golden glow.

He is quick to then shed the black material that’s covering his chest over himself without hesitation. Your gaze skates along the muscled skin of his back. Littered in black ink and scars that immediately piqued your curiosity. Ones that you undeniably want to trace over, and enquire how exactly they got there. Which feels like an odd thought to be entertaining considering how much you push to hate him.

His hands unlatch his belt, still adorning all its weapons. And he walks to the foot of his bed, laying it atop the cover.

“Would I be correct to assume I’m taking the floor?” You put forward, and his head turns over his shoulder.

“That one’s up t’you. Unless you’re that desperate to get away from me.” He drawls, the alcohol making him a tad drowsy now that the buzz has worn off.

A part of you begs to be stubborn. To say no. But the other half of you in rioting to lay down on a mattress for the first time in almost a week. Because you couldn’t physically sleep another night on the hard wooden floor.

You breathe outward, walking over in silence as you climb beneath his sheets without warrant.

He tries to ignores it, but a small smile breaks out over his lips before he can stop it. So he turns swiftly around, unzipping his black pants and shedding them off his long legs.

“What exactly are you doing?” You shrilly ask, palms ready to shield your eyes if he decides to strip the only remaining fabric below his laurel-adorning hips.

“You’re not sleeping naked next to me.” Certainty riddles your tone, and there is no way you’ll budge on it.

But to your statement he laughs, “M’not naked.”

“Not far off it either.” You murmur, observing as he walks over to the candle he not long lit and blows it out.

The room falls into darkness, all you can hear are the plodding of his feet on the wood floor.

Once he’s next to the bed, you hear his voice, “You’re on my side, by the way. S’budge up.”

You scoot over without words, and feel the mattress sink as his weight comes onto it.

“Better than the floor, no?” He asks quietly, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Undecided.” You whisper. “Comfier I suppose.”

His breath is quiet and consistent as you both fall quiet. You’re certain he falls asleep before you, because you’re awake for a while. Staring at the ceiling wondering how you got here yet again.

But eventually, the tiredness you’ve been feeling for the last couple days catches up on you, and it lulls you into a deep sleep. Unbroken from any uncomfortable surfaces or loud noises. Just peace.

Peace until you stir for the first time in the morning.

When soft light is shining through the circular windows, and you realise how truly warm you are. All the edges of your consciousness are blurred and hazy with your sleep induced state. You nestle into what you thought was the mattress, but register somewhere in your head that your body is pressed against someone.

And after that, it’s confirmed when they move. A slight roll, and a warm heavy arm that drapes over your waist, tugging you closer.

Your eyes dart open, and are met with the sideways view of a swallow on a collarbone. It stops you dead in your tracks. Because slowly you realise your plastered to someone's side. Harry's side. Legs thrown over his hips, head nestled into his neck.

You're frozen for a moment. Because he smells so nice. But alarm bells are sounding in your head. Too close to the enemy, they riot.

The rigidness of your body stirs him again, rolling him further into you. Legs intertwined, and the bridge of your nose bumping against the curve of his throat. Now he's truly swallowing up all your senses. His scent is genuinely intoxicating. Salty, just as you'd imagine a pirate would smell— of the ocean and all that lies beneath it. But it has a woodsy tone to it, deep and masculine. One you wonder how he just naturally carries.

His tattoos are gorgeous up close, chest chiseled and dusted with soft dark hairs. You use the finger that’s between your body and his to brush gently over the butterfly on his stomach. Tracing the details, despite how wrong it feels. In your moments of timid admiration, you don’t realise his eyes have opened. Green and glazed over with sleep, it takes him a solid minute to register what he's watching you do.

An intake of breathe, and his gravelly voice pressed out the only thing he can even think of saying, “g’morning.”

Physically, you flinch. Startled at his sudden consciousness. Finger withdrawing from its tender movements, your heart pounding.

“I— hello.” You whisper, unsure how long he’s been awake.

He stretches, which in turn scoots his body down the bed, leaving you face to face with him. A pink tongue juts out over his lips— wetting them.

“I should’ve established a no-cuddle policy.” You state, eyes wandering the plains of his face.

To this, his morning voice rumbles a laugh, “are you trying to blame me for this? ‘Cause you’re on m’side, touching up my chest, dove.”

You turn your head over your shoulder, glancing to the gap from where you originally feel asleep and where you are now. Red flushed over your face, It does look incriminating on your end.

A guilty sigh falls from your lips before you purse them together. Not having an explanation for how you ended up like this.

“S’okay.” His voice was so deep, and it sunk into your ears. Almost drawing a shiver out of you. It was attractive.

You can’t tell if that observation is coming only from the fact you have just spent a night curled into his chest. But it’s all you can think about.

“Didn’t mean to.” You say, the closest you were coming to an apology.

“Mmm, I bet.” He murmurs, his hand leaving from where it was on your waist and going to comb through his hair.

Perfectly tousled from sleep, he brushed through it with his fingers. You take the opportunity now that his hand has left your waist, to sit up, averting your eyes from the way his touch glides through his soft hair.

You look out the window, and immediately you’re shocked. You see land. Not even that far away.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“There’s land…”

“Ah,” he also props himself up with his elbows, “so there is.”

“Best we get ready.” He shrugs his bare shoulders, and you quickly jolt your head this way.

We?

He’s far from shy as he threw the covers off himself, with the daylight streaming through the windows, his whole body was on display.

You wondered if he realised the kind of body he had on him. Because undeniably, seeing him in just boxers makes your throat bob.

“Do you say we because you intend on taking me off the ship?” You ask, a silent plea behind your words.

“Tonight.” He states, glances back to see the palpable excitement spread over your face.

You rush out of bed, a sudden burst of energy at his confirmation. He is shocked as suddenly your arms collide with his bare waist.

“Thank you. Thank you.” You really are grateful, and you’re so desperate to get off this boat for a bit.

His lips part in surprise, “that’s… y’welcome?”

You hold him longer than you should, a part of you a little ashamed at your lack of self discipline. Because you should be able to contain yourself. You eventually pull yourself from him, smiling in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“We’re probably gonna dock in… 20 minutes? We’ll be gone for most of the day. I’ll come back and get you at evening.”

It sounded like a long time to wait. But you are sure you could do it. So you nod, enthusiastically.

You go and sit yourself on the edge of his bed, wondering where you’re going to end up— what the town will be like, where you’ll go— all while watching Harry go through his closet for an outfit.

It reminded you almost of how a royal would dress, particularly about what came out and what would go with what.

He stands with his back to you, still just in boxers. He has a nice ass.

You mentally scold yourself, yet unable to look away from him as he pulls a maroon pair of pants over his hips. They’re left unzipped as he gets a off-white linen shirt to tuck into them. However the shirt was left almost entirely unbuttoned. And his cross necklace sits between his pecs that are on full display.

He belts his weaponry around his waist, taking it off the wall from where they were hung. Odd of him to leave them so in the open, when you could’ve stabbed him in the night while he slept.

“Are you leaving me in here?” You ask, watching as he collects a few last minute things from around his room.

“S’long as you don’t trash the place.”

You think about teasing him, but decide not to risk it. You piss him off, then you’ll likely get put somewhere without anything to snoop around. And also miss out on getting off the ship tonight.

So you just nod. And at that, he’s satisfied.

“Well, m’off then. Don’t do anything stupid, Princess.” He raises his brows, face serious until it breaks into a small smile.

“I won’t.” You lie, because how are you meant to guarantee that.

He walks out, and obviously locks you in. You wait an hour, until you’ve been docked for a while before you start to dig around his room.

Not forgetting to take some time looking out the window to figure out where the hell you are in the world. Nothing was geographically giving it away, but once you saw a small fishing cart on the pier, you read Sintir fishery.

Sintir is so far away from your homeland, you let out an audible gasp when you read it. There’s no fucking way, you’d thought.

But as you walk away from the window, you register that it has technically been a week since you’d been taken.

You ponder it as you start to go through his things. You feel like some kind of home invader. Rummaging through a trunk under his bed, raiding draws, and flicking through his racks of clothes. Digging into pockets as though you were waiting to happen upon something of value.

It turned out to be the smartest places you looked, because in a thick raincoat, you fucking found it.

A key. One he has to have forgotten about, since there’s no way in the world he’s left you in here without being certain there’s no way to get out.

You ran to the door of his room, and held your breath as the sharp metal got pushed into the lock by your eager hands.

You turned it, jostling it a bit. And it clicked.

Quietly, you reach for the handle, gently pulling it down and breathing out as the door unlatches.

There’s no time to wait as you slink outside. Clicking it shut, and slowly trying to recall your way back down to the chambers.

Every noise has you on edge, and you’re terrified to get caught. Waiting to turn a corner and one of his crew mates to be there, catching you in the act. But it’s not enough to stop you. You may have made a few wrong turns, but you end up in a hallway that jogs your memory.

You make your way down the stairs to the cells, unable to keep your footsteps entirely quiet. It’s without warning you realise the space down there is in fact still occupied by someone… just like you’d initially feared.

You’re met with a guttural groan, and suddenly your anxiety nearly triples. It’s masculine— and when you reach the bottom of the stairs, still out of view from the cell door— you can confirm it when the voice echoes out from the dim room.

“Let me out, you… you fuckin’ bastards.” Whoever it is sounds exhausted, like they’ve been teetering on the edges of life or death for hours.

When you don’t reply he lets out a wet and chesty cough as he continues, “I don’t care about tha’ whore no more! The princess means nothing to me.”

Your heart is racing at the mention of yourself, and the man sounds like he’s dying. It’s certain in your mind now this man’s face was probably what caused the bruising on Harrys fist.

A heavy bang comes from his cell, sounding like metal cuffs being slammed against a wall.

His speech turns to slur as you slowly back yourself back up the stairs. Curiosity always kills the cat, you think. And you wished you’d stayed in Harry’s room.

“Or jus’ kill me already!” He begs, tone shaking with exhausted rage, “already beat me to a pulp after I called that royal a good f’nothing slut. S’cmon!”

That was your cue to leave, and as you break off into a near run down the halls, you’re shaking the whole time.

Yet somehow, despite what anyone would’ve expected, you made it back to Captains quarters without a single run in. Not a soul knows you found a key.

You slide down the relocked door once you’re inside, and pant with not only the physical exertion, but the anxiety you just put yourself under.

It takes a fair while before you can move again, but your hands skate along the floorboards beneath you, tracing the wood grains to calm down.

Rising, you go back to his closet to put the small key back exactly where you found it. Not taking chances in trying to harbour it for yourself.

The room is deafeningly quiet, it forces your mind to hear the likely dying man’s words on repeat. And wonder if Harry really punched the man because he called you a slut…

The only person that knows is him.

He only knows that the second that sack of shit opened his mouth and said the only thing you’d be good for is ‘a quick fuck and some gold’ he absolutely lost it.

He only knows the feeling of pure, red-hot anger that took over him until he slammed the side of his fist into the slimy man’s face. More than once. He’s not sure how many times, until it was bloody, and until his knuckles already had a bruise festering below the skin— darkening by the minute.

And god, can he not stop thinking about how it made him feel. It was all consuming. It solidified that you were not going back down into the cells. He would rather have you in his own bed than within a 5 metre radius of that scum.

So as he walks through the town, splitting off from his crew to go by you clothes, he realises that you’re making more of an impression on him than he thought.

And while he piles up half a wardrobe for you, not even worrying about how much it’ll all add up to, he clocks just how… infatuated he’s possibly become with you.

Just how he’s suddenly ended up in this position. Where he hates you, yet wants to protect you— and even sometimes dote on you.

God— It’s dangerous.

That feeling that lingers when he thinks about you. Both a good and a bad one.

You were dangerous for him… and he’s still trying to decide how much, and in what way. But the biggest thing, is he’s worried for when he finds out.

Whether it’s going to be when you stab him in the back— either metaphorically or physically— or when you trace your delicate touch over his bare chest, so gently his mental resolve cracks along with the walls guarding his heart.

His conclusion as he checks out with a plethora of clothes for you, you’re either going to kill him, or he’s going to end up killing for you.

Oh, and that he’s certain he wants to kiss you. But that’s a whole other thing he has to mentally unpack.

———

taglist:

@saturnheartz @slap-me-harry @ilovehsstuff @ameerakane20 @matildasatellite @harrysslut7 @sunflowersey @styleswiftie @anotheryoutubefanpage @straightontilmornin

thank you everyone for your undying support, you are all the best!! i love you

comment or reach out to be added to taglist—🤍

i really hope you guys enjoyed this part since i have rewrote it and reread it that many times i seriously have no idea if it’s any good HAHA

[iovebarca]

Tangled Emotions - Pau Cubarsi

Authors note: Sorry for ghosting! I've been working on my final projects one is about ancient civilisations and the other about women's football so a lot of reading🥲

WC: 1300+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, angsty but not really angst, fluff.

send me requestsss 🫶🫶

The school ball was in full swing, the gym transformed into a dazzling dance floor with twinkling lights and music filling the air. You and Pau had decided to attend together as friends, looking forward to a night of laughter and dancing.

As the evening progressed, you found yourselves lost in the rhythm of the music, spinning and twirling on the dance floor with carefree abandon. Pau's laughter echoed in your ears as you shared jokes and whispered secrets.

But then, as you went to refill your drink, you caught sight of Pau in the hallway, his lips locked with the one person you least expected – the girl who had always been inexplicably mean to you. The sight sent a pang of hurt and betrayal coursing through you, the music fading into the background as your heart shattered into a million pieces.

Without a word, you turned and fled, tears blurring your vision as you stumbled into the nearest bathroom. The sobs wracked your body as you leaned against the sink, the weight of the evening's events crashing down on you all at once.

Minutes passed in a blur as you tried to compose yourself, the echoes of laughter and music from the ballroom filtering through the walls. But the pain in your chest only grew with each passing moment, the image of Pau and that girl seared into your mind like a brand.

Finally, with a deep breath, you straightened up, wiping away the tears with shaking hands. You couldn't bear to stay at the ball a moment longer, not when your heart felt like it had been torn in two.

With one last glance in the mirror to make sure your red eyes weren't too obvious, you squared your shoulders and left the bathroom, determined to put on a brave face and leave the night behind you.

As you walked away from the ballroom, the sound of laughter and music fading into the distance, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at your insides. You didn't know what you would say to Pau, or if you would even be able to face him at all. All you knew was that the pain in your heart was too raw, too real, to confront just yet.

-

The rays of the sun twinkled warmly around the living room, and the scent of summer air filled the house. Yet, the usually happy atmosphere was marred by the tension between you and Pau. It had been this way since the thing that happened just before the break. The image of Pau kissing that girl was seared into your mind, and the hurt still lingered.

You and Pau had been best friends for as long as you could remember. Your families always celebrated things together, and your graduation party was no different. But this time, you tried to avoid him as much as possible, he knew why but he was too ashamed of his previous actions, the pain of the recent events casting a shadow over the celebrations.

You wandered into the kitchen, hoping to escape the awkwardness. Irene, Pau's sister, watched you with a knowing look. She had noticed the cold distance between you and Pau. Determined to mend things, she hatched a plan.

Later that evening, as you were heading upstairs to grab something from your room, Irene cornered you. "Come with me," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Confused, you followed her. She led you to the bathroom, and to your surprise, Pau was already there. Before you could protest, Irene shoved you inside and quickly locked the door.

"Sort this out," she commanded through the door. "You two are ruining your own graduation party."

You turned to Pau, who was leaning against the sink, looking equally frustrated and embarrassed. "This is ridiculous," you muttered, crossing your arms.

Pau sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. But maybe she's right. We need to talk."

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. You glared at him, the anger and hurt bubbling up. "Why did you kiss her, Pau?" you demanded, your voice trembling.

He looked taken aback by your question, his eyes shifting away from yours. "I don't know," he mumbled. "It just happened."

You scoffed, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "It just happened? That's all you have to say?"

He straightened up, frustration clear on his face. "What do you want me to say? That it was a mistake? Because it was! I didn't think it would matter so much to you."

"It does matter, Pau! You just had to kiss her! Why her?" you shot back, your voice breaking.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" he demanded, stepping closer. "You're acting like it broke your heart or something."

You stared at him, the dam of your emotions finally breaking. "Because it did!" you cried, tears streaming down your face. "It broke my heart, Pau. I've been in love with you for years, and seeing you with her felt like a knife in my heart."

The shock on his face mirrored your own surprise at your outburst. A heavy silence fell between you, filled only by the sound of your quiet sobs. The minutes ticked by, each second dragging on as the weight of unspoken feelings hung in the air.

Finally, Pau took a deep breath and broke the silence. "You... love me?" he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of hope and fear.

You nodded, wiping at your tears. "Yes, you idiot. I love you. I didn't know how to tell you, and then seeing you with her... I just couldn't take it."

He looked down, guilt and realization washing over his features. "I didn't know," he said softly. "I thought... I thought maybe if you saw me with someone else, you'd realize how much you mean to me."

You sniffled, the anger starting to dissipate. "Well, it worked," you muttered, your voice still shaky. "But it hurt, Pau. It really hurt."

He stepped closer, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn't know what to do. I've been so confused about my feelings for you. I've been trying to understand why seeing you with other people makes me so angry, why I can't stand the thought of losing you. And then I kissed her because I thought it would help me figure things out, but it only made everything worse. I love you, but I didn't know how to admit it, and now I've fucked up and I don't—"

You interrupted his rambling by grabbing his face and kissing him passionately. The words died on his lips as he melted into the kiss, all the tension and confusion dissolving in the warmth of your embrace.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless, the room filled with a new, electrifying tension. Pau looked at you, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and joy. "You kissed me," he murmured, almost in disbelief.

You smiled through your tears, nodding. "Yes, because I love you, Pau. And I needed you to stop talking and just understand that."

A slow smile spread across his face, and he pulled you into another embrace. "I love you too," he whispered into your hair. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

Irene's voice interrupted your moment. "Are you two done in there?" she called through the door.

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. "Yeah, we're good."

The door unlocked, and Irene peeked in, grinning. "About time," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now come on, it's your graduation party. Let's go celebrate."

Hand in hand, you and Pau followed Irene back downstairs, ready to enjoy the holiday together, knowing that your friendship had blossomed into something even more beautiful.

[infernothechaosgod]

A fanart for @sunny1927's take on Oswald in Kingdom hearts based on this post they made sometime ago :>

I hope I interpreted that image as oswald seeing mickey in the mirror on his own correctly or else some details I purposfuly put there are pointless TOT

[always when a character sees someone else's interpretation/a character they made up etc I like to add a detail showing that it's accualy just them by having the interpretation or in that case hallucynation have something incorrect or out of place on them that usualy belongs or is associated with the character seeing things in this case I made mickey have a rabbit tail if you'll look closer....God it will be so akward if it's accualy NOT suppoust to be just oswald ahhhhh ToT]

[everythingblackblack]

I came back with more incorrect quotes, but team ekoda version.

Aoko: What do you want? Kaito: Living next to you. <3 Aoko: Perfect, let's be neighbors.

Akako: I love you. Kaito: Who doesn't? Kaito: Even I'm in love with myself.

Kaito: I love my evil wife who really wants to kill me. I come home from work every day and narrowly avoid one of her many death traps. When we eat dinner, I smile and say, "Poison again?" She just shrugs and laughs, we both know it's a lot of venom. Note: I took the image from Facebook just like that.

Hakuba: I'm sick. KID: What do you have? Hakuba: Looking forward to seeing you. KID: You're going to die.

Hakuba: You're a fuckgirl. Hakuba: You excite everyone. Akako: Not you. Akako: I love you. Hakuba: ME MORE. Akako: Did you believe it? Akako: To laugh. Note: This one in particular made me laugh a lot.

Kaito in the group chat: They called me, it was extortion and they told me "we have your dad" and I answered "I no longer have a dad" and then they told me "we're sorry, we have the wrong number."

Kaito: BROOOO. Hakuba: What's up, Bro? Kaito: Look in the mirror. Hakuba: Ready. Kaito: That's how ugly my life would be without you, bro. Hakuba: Bro… Hakuba: I hate you.

Hakuba: I know how to manipulate people. Shinichi: Shut up, you KID is manipulating you, how do you know?

Aoko: CALM FRIEND, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, YOU DON'T NEED TO DO THOSE THINGS, HE WILL LISTEN TO YOU. Akako: YOU'RE CRAZY. Akako: A BLACKOUT HAPPENED.

Hakuba: Who died? Kaito: My dad. Hakuba: Really? Hakuba: My sincere condolences. Hakuba: … Hakuba: Do you want to be my boyfriend?

[thebiggerbear]

The Ghosts Are Coming For You - Two - Quite the Opposite

Pairing: Beau x Female!Reader; Beau x Female!Detective!Reader

A/N: Sorry this took so long but I'm a pita sometimes when it comes to the mapping out process and setups. A huge thank you to my beta, Em, for all of the brainstorming sessions we had where she would listen to me rant and rave about this chapter as I beat it into shape like a pillow under your head that won't cooperate. She unfortunately didn't have time to do the final process of beta'ing this time around but she did spend a lot of time helping me mold this into what it is so I want to thank her for that. Again, apologies for another long chapter. I did contemplate splitting this into two shorter chapters but in the end, it felt right to keep it altogether for the setup's sake. Future chapters will not nearly be this long. Thanks for sticking with me on this ride. Hope this came out okay.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Songs mentioned in the chapter: Knockin' Boots by Luke Bryan; I'd Love To Lay You Down by Conway Twitty

Disclaimer: Let me just say up front, I have never worked in law enforcement so I tried to piece together things I’ve seen and heard in true crime documentaries and podcasts alongside with movies/tv and books. I apologize for any inconsistencies, incorrect information, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. Also, this story is going to take place over a few months. Some things might be delayed or appear illogical to not have been thought of before they take place in the timeline, but it’s purely for story purposes.

Tl;dr: I made shit up.

Warnings: mentions of deaths/murders; mentions of abusive relationship; mentions of emotional/psychological, physical, and verbal abuse; angst; a little sexual tension; a little flirting/teasing

Word Count: 16k+

Series Masterlist

Series Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @superrey; @fromcaintodean; @stoneyggirl2; @lacilou; @perpetualabsurdity; @deansbbyx; @syrma-sensei; @globetrotter28; @roseblue373; @angelbabyyy99; @hobby27; @rieleatiel

Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @birdiellie; @illicithallways; @muhahaha303

This chapter was recc'ed by @winchestergirl2 here.

You glanced at yourself one more time in the mirror of the bathroom at the precinct, smoothing down your dress and checking your make-up one last time. You and Jack had just pulled up to the station no more than half an hour ago. 

You’d been called out on another case earlier in the day. Thankfully, this one didn’t appear to be connected to the one from this morning. Instead, it had been a home invasion that had gone badly and the homeowners had been found shot to death, by their college-aged daughter who had been returning home from a late night out. You tried to put the traumatized girl and the victims out of your mind, but you knew the former’s heart-wrenching sobs were just as likely to haunt you as much as the images of her dead parents would. You silently promised her exactly what you promised every other loved one in the cases you worked: you’d do everything you could to find the ones responsible and put them away for good. You just hoped you could deliver in this case, and that it hopefully might bring some small measure of peace for the young girl whose parents were now gone and who she had to make funeral arrangements for. Thankfully, her aunt lived nearby so the woman had been on the scene almost as soon as the responding officer had been. You were relieved that the daughter wouldn’t have to face all of this alone.

You took a deep breath and stared at your reflection, forcing yourself to change thought tracks and focus on your upcoming date with the County’s sheriff. Your nerves were slightly on edge; you hadn’t been on a date since you had been living in New York. Not a real date, anyway. Jack’s girlfriend, Cecilia, had kindly tried to set you up a couple of times with single guys she knew in the first couple of months you’d been here, but both blind dates had been full blown disasters. Your heart hadn’t really been in it, anyway, and you were convinced that you just weren’t destined for love or family or any of those white picket fence dreams everyone else had. You were married to your job, could even get obsessive with it at times, and that would just have to be enough to sustain you. Besides, after your last relationship, you almost tended to prefer it that way.

You just hoped this dinner went well, even if it didn’t end up really going anywhere. You could do with a friend around here, someone other than Jack, who you could maybe meet up and have a beer with every now and then. Someone who understood the job and wouldn’t take it personally if you had to cancel last minute because you got a call you had to respond to. Someone who could help distract you from the daily horrors that plagued your mind and maybe lighten up your darker times. Plus, you could now have a contact in the Sheriff’s department if you ever needed to reach out for anything relating to a case.

And even if things got awkward, at least you could have a drink and you had a very handsome sheriff to feast your eyes on. You’d never admit it to him but the cowboy thing really worked for him and it did do it for you a little. Though you sincerely hoped he left the Stetson at home this time. 

There were many reasons to look forward to this dinner, and barely any to dread it. You swore to yourself that you would have a good time, no matter what, and you would relax for the evening. 

You did some last minute adjustments to your hair, blew out a breath, and left the bathroom. When you stepped into the squad room, you heard a wolf whistle coming from the corner desk. “Fuck off, Taylor.” You flipped the younger man the bird, ignored his commentary, and braced yourself when Jack turned around in his chair to face you.

“Nice.” Jack gave you an approving nod, taking in the soft waves of your hair, your simple floral-patterned dress, your light-handed make-up, and your appropriate length heels. “You got a hot date or something?” He teased.

“Shut up,” you muttered, making your way to your desk.

Your partner laughed, knowing from your response that he was right. “Cecilia is going to love this. Who’s the lucky guy?”

You bit your lip, packing your things into the purse you’d grabbed from your car earlier. You always kept an emergency bag of clothes and necessary items in your car; you had learned that a spare change of clothes and a toothbrush were good to keep on hand for those long nights you worked or for the occasional damage that was done to clothes you were wearing while on the job. This may be a smaller town and it may have a smaller budget, but thank God they had showers. They had saved you more than once, especially when it came to mud or…other things.   

You glanced around the room and mumbled, “Sheriff Arlen.”

You knew Jack had heard you because his dark eyes were as wide as saucers. “Come again?”

“The sheriff.”

“But I thought he and Jenny Hoyt were—”

You glared over at him. “Well, apparently they’re not. He said as much when he asked me to dinner.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“So he asked you out at a murder scene,” Jack teased. “Sounds about right.”

The scowl that plastered itself onto your face would have terrified any other man. You reminded yourself that while you could probably kill him and make it look like an accident, that would be hard to do in a room full of seasoned homicide detectives who were sitting only a few feet from you. Not to mention, you’d need to find a new partner and there was no way in hell you were sharing a car with someone like Taylor every day. You’d go to prison first.

He held his hands up. “Kidding, kidding. I was kidding, Y/N. Come on.” 

“Not funny.”

“It was. A little bit. Seeing as you’re always working. How else would he be able to ask?” When your glare didn’t let up any, he decided to ease up on you and cleared his throat. “You know, I was wondering why he was so chatty with you all of a sudden. Can’t say I blame him, though.” Jack inclined his head towards you. “When you clean up, you clean up nice.”

You gave him a look. “Thanks ever so much, Jack.” Whatever little confidence you’d managed to scrounge up in the bathroom before was now completely deflated. You knew you looked nice, but the little joke he’d made had taken the wind right out of your sails. Jack was just being Jack, you knew that; he meant no harm. He had no idea how close to home his words had actually hit. He was just ribbing you like always, no more than any of the other guys here did on a daily basis. 

“Hey, I was trying to compliment you,” he laughed. “So where is he taking you?”

“A steakhouse in town. He said they serve the best ribeye in the county.”

He nodded in approval. “Nice. So this is like a real date, huh?”

“Think so.”

“You and the sheriff. Who would’ve thought?”

“Shh,” you hissed. “Keep your voice down.” At his questioning look, you added, “I don’t want anyone else knowing about this. If Taylor found out, he’d never shut up.” You could immediately see the flaw to your plan having Beau pick you up at your job. Guaranteed many people would see you and your coworkers, including Taylor, were bound to find out anyway. 

“Well, I’m flattered you told me, I guess.”

“You should be,” you insisted, glancing towards the clock and seeing it was 7:30 on the dot. You grabbed your purse and started to make your way to the door, hating the way your heels clacked loudly against the floor.

“Have fun,” Jack called. “If you need me to pick you up, let me know.”

“Thanks,” you called back, flipping Taylor off again for good measure. The guy was now making actual barking sounds. You supposed you should be grateful that he hadn’t actually made his way over to you to try his cheap come-ons on you like usual.

“Oh, a word of advice.”

You stopped and turned back to Jack, who leaned a little closer in his chair towards you, keeping his voice low.

“If the handcuffs come out at some point, and knowing you they most likely will, make sure to keep the key nearby. You don’t want to have to call 911 because you left it on the dresser. That would be one embarrassing emergency call to make.” He smirked, shooting you a wink.

You placed a hand on your hip, glaring at your partner. “Darcy, how you continue to get laid on a regular basis is beyond me. Cecilia is a damn saint and someone should thank her for her service.”

The bastard had the nerve to laugh. “I do. Every single time.” His grin widened and you felt ill to your stomach. 

Making a face, you waved a hand to dismiss him and turned back around. “Bye.”

“Remember,” Jack called. “Keep it nearby!”

You shook your head but didn’t respond, instead continuing your trek out to the parking lot.

Once you stepped outside, you did a quick scan of the area and found the man you were looking for. He was in a different car this time, a rust-colored truck that had definitely seen better days.

He had just turned to look at the entrance when he spotted you, eyes widening slightly. He hurried to get out of his car and began to approach you. You decided to meet him halfway, thankful there wasn’t really anyone milling around at that moment.

Before he could get a word out, you noticed the new look right away. 

“You changed,” you accused.

“So did you,” he pointed out, his eyes roving over you. 

You nervously smoothed down the skirt of your dress with your fingers. “I wasn’t sure if there was a dress code where we were going. I should have asked. Is this okay?”

He nodded, a slow smile forming on his face. “More than okay. You look amazing,” he breathed.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, you look great, too.” You took him in and definitely liked what you saw. No hat, a button-down that hugged him in all the right places, jeans, short brown wavy hair that looked to be the right length for you to run your fingers through (among other things), a touched up beard from earlier, and a warm grin. “So you put the cowboy away.”

He chuckled and you could swear you could see a faint pink color dusting his cheeks, though it wasn’t easy to tell in this light. “A little bit.” He gestured towards his cowboy boots, making you let out a quiet laugh.

“I like it.” You gave him a kind smile; you truly did like what you saw. 

His smile grew and he held out an arm in invitation. “Shall we, little lady?”

“Oh no, you didn’t.”

Chuckling once more, he lowered his arm and moved closer. “Too much?”

“Way too much.”

This time, he held out his hand to you in offering, and tried again, giving you his most charming smile. “Ready, Beautiful?”

Choosing to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, you placed your hand in his and gave him a nod of approval. “Better. Still needs work, but better.” You could feel the warmth of his skin seeping into yours and you almost wanted to intertwine your fingers with his to feel more of it, but that would be too forward of you and might make things awkward. You hadn’t even gone on the date yet. So instead, you smiled when you felt the strength of his grip and let him lead you wherever he intended to go.  

He started towards the truck. “Already, you are one tough woman to please. I hope this isn’t a sign of how the rest of our night will go,” he quipped.

“Depends on how hard you work to please me.” 

His eyes snapped to yours and seeing your teasing grin, he shook his head, looking away, clearly amused. “I really got myself into something here, didn't I?”

“You did,” you laughed.

“You know, they say you East Coast girls can be difficult to satisfy.” You noticed the twang purposely deepen as he teased you back.

Once you reached the car, he opened your door for you. “You know, they say you Texan cowboys never met a challenge you didn’t like.” You moved past him, not missing the smirk on his face and the shake of his head, and slipped into the passenger seat. He closed your door for you and you rearranged the skirt of your dress by the time he joined you inside.

He turned a smile on you. “Ready?”

You returned it and gave him a nod after having buckled your seat belt. “Ready.”

You watched as his smile broadened and he started up the car, thinking this date was already going better than the other two you’d had since coming here.

It should have hit you that you’d allowed him to pick you up rather than insisting on meeting him at the restaurant. This way in case things turned out as they had both previous times, you had an easy escape should it be needed. But there was something about the sheriff that had you throwing most of your caution to the wind for the evening. Something just so inviting, as if he were the sun and you wanted to be in his orbit, no matter how temporary it might be.

Beau turned the radio on and Luke Bryan’s voice carried from the speakers and echoed throughout the car. “Boots need knockin’, knockin’ boots, knockin’ boots, me and you, oh” You saw his cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink as he quickly changed the station, clearing his throat quietly. When Conway Twitty’s voice floated through with “But I won’t talk of starry skies or moonlight on the ground I’ll come right out and tell you I’d just love to lay you down”, he immediately turned to another station, his shoulders relaxing slightly when it was apparent a commercial was playing. You bit into your lip, trying to hide a smile underneath your hand as best you could until he turned to look at you. 

He let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe you should pick the music.”

You leaned forward, never taking your eyes off of him, and switched the radio off.

“Good choice,” he laughed. “Though I warn you, I’ve been known to be a bit of a talker. Silences and I don’t get along too well, or so I’ve been told.” He gave you a sheepish grin.

“Good.” You smiled and got comfortable. “I want to hear all about the cowboy from Texas who ended up as a sheriff in Montana,” you teased.

He watched you for a moment, his grin softening into a smile, and then he laughed and nodded, turning back to the road. “Copy that.” You hadn’t even pulled away from the curb before he launched into his first story of the night.

 “What made you want to become a homicide detective?” Beau asked.

There it was. One of the three questions you hated being asked, especially on a date. True, when you go on a date, you’re supposed to talk and get to know one another, but sometimes you wished you could skip this part of the conversation altogether. That and anything about your personal and professional life back East. But you supposed that wasn’t feasible and it was unfair to the person asking, so you usually found yourself answering, and by answering you typically meant that you evaded the questions at all costs.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about work.” You took a sip of your wine, quickly glancing around. The steakhouse he had taken you to was nice. It was a little more packed than you anticipated for a Thursday night, in these parts anyway, but the ambience was perfect and you had to admit that the sheriff had chosen well. He had insisted on pulling your chair out for you, which was a nice touch. He had even opened the car door for you, too, upon your arrival, holding a hand up to stop the parking attendant from approaching you while thanking him. 

By the time you both had gotten to the restaurant, you had learned that Beau had a younger brother who he was very fond of, and that he had initially retired from law enforcement but then had been pulled out of it by one phone call from his injured predecessor. Beau hadn’t been lying; he was a talker. Surprisingly, you enjoyed that fact about him. He could switch gears and talk about any topic, regale you with stories that were entertaining and helped you learn more about him. Some might think he enjoyed going on about himself but you could see that wasn’t the case. He used his affinity for talking to try to connect to those around him. He was always looking for common ground and a way to make you feel comfortable. He was open and gregarious, almost warm you would say, so the person he was talking to would feel at ease. You instantly liked that about him.

Once you were led to your table, you both quickly put in an order for drinks: a beer for him and a glass of red wine for you. You kind of liked it when he admitted he wasn’t much of a wine drinker and you might have joined him for that beer if you hadn’t been nervous. Beau had then asked if it was okay if he could order for both of you, swearing by his choice of entree and that you would love it, and you had happily agreed, more than impressed that he had asked first.

It didn’t take too long for Beau to start up more conversation between you and your nerves began to ease, with you realizing you really liked this guy. Sure, you were attracted to him — who wouldn’t be? But you also could see yourself with him outside of the bedroom, possibly taking in a movie, having more dinners like this one, and just spending time together. While you knew you still needed to get to know him better before thinking of anything like that, and you hadn’t been looking to start up an actual relationship anytime soon, your instincts told you to hold onto this one and not just casually throw him away for a roll in the sheets or two.

Plus, the man had been right; your food was delicious. All in all, this was definitely the best date you’d been on since being in Montana, no contest.

Now here you were, over drinks and a half eaten dinner, enjoying said meal when Beau decided to turn the tables on you. You supposed it was only fair; he had been doing a lot of the talking thus far and it was a date after all. You just wished he hadn’t started out the gate with that.

“We aren’t,” he confirmed, giving you a broad smile. “I’m just asking about your background because I want to know more about you.”

Well, damn, when he put it like that… “Fair enough,” you agreed.

“So, homicide. How’d that come about?”

You shrugged. “Seemed like a good move to make at the time.”

“And you don’t think it is anymore?”

You thought over for a moment how best to answer that one. Should you be honest and let him know where your head was at? Or should you keep it to yourself as you had been for the past year? One brief glance into his warm green eyes had your lips loosening. You got the feeling that whatever you told him about this subject would stay between you two. “You have to be made for the job.” You bit your lip and trailed your fingers over the rim of your wine glass. “I’m not sure that I am,” you admitted quietly.

“Seems like you are.”

You looked up to find him smiling kindly at you. “You saw me at one crime scene and you think I’m a natural?”

“Well, no, I mean, you were great. But uh,” You noticed a faint tinge of pink rising in his cheeks and he gave you a sheepish smile alongside a nervous chuckle. “I may have looked you up earlier.”

Ah, you had expected as much. You gave him an approving nod before taking a sip of wine. “A man who does his homework.”

“It’s just that you said you’d only been here for four months and with the department not having heard anything about the string of cases your precinct’s had in all that time…I felt I should look into it a little,” he attempted to explain, guilt beginning to line his expression. “It’s more about the case from this morning than you. After the last time, I just…”

You could see he was trying to figure out how to finish that sentence but he didn’t need to. “It’s fine.” You waved your hand dismissively and sat back in your chair with wine in hand. “I looked into you, too,” you admitted. Something you usually did before a date anyway, but the sheriff had particularly piqued your curiosity.

His brows arched in surprise. “And?”

“You need to update your department photo on your website.”

“Never,” he swore, making you tilt your head and smile in amusement. After a moment, his grin faded and he glanced back down at his plate. “That can’t be the only thing you saw in your search.”

You debated on whether to tell him what you’d found. It obviously hadn’t affected your decision to go out with him tonight. There wasn’t a single officer in law enforcement that didn’t have a case in their past that haunted them, whether it had gone awry or it was that truly terrible. You knew that better than most. While you were curious about what you had seen, you didn’t need answers, not until he was ready to give them.

You carefully chose your words before responding. “I may have seen something about a case down in Houston that perhaps didn’t go as planned.” 

Stiffly nodding, he began to cut into his meat. “Didn’t go as planned is a real nice way of putting it,” he mumbled before taking a bite. 

You studied him as he chewed, noting the tension in his jaw that wasn’t just due to the action. You could understand that this appeared to be a topic that he didn’t like discussing. Once he swallowed, he took a sip of his beer, his eyes meeting yours. “You had no problem answering my question. I suppose it’s only fair that I should answer yours.”

Your brows furrowed as you pretended to be confused. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to ask a question yet.”

His features relaxed slightly and his smile started to return. You mirrored it and he let out a quiet chuckle as he self-consciously scratched at his eyebrow. “Yeah, I, uh…I do that a lot. Sorry. Hoyt always says I can be a real chatty one.”

Your jaw was the one tensing this time, at the mention of Hoyt, but you worked to cover it well by finishing the tiny amount of wine left in your glass. You had zero desire to be reminded of that pushy blonde from this morning. You signaled to your server for another glass and sat back, smiling. “I don’t mind it all that much.” 

And that was the truth, you didn’t. Which was odd because most times after a long day like this one, you just wanted peace and quiet. And that’s what you had always looked for in someone, besides the other desired qualities someone had in a life partner — someone who could let you have that quiet, let it be comfortable between you and empty of expectations, even give your mind time to process everything from the day’s events. Someone who understood and didn’t take it personally, who didn’t cop an attitude if you didn’t want to rush right back out the door for a dinner hosted by your friends or to go to a family gathering or to a sporting event or concert down at Madison Square Garden. Someone who could just let you be during some of the tougher days in your career. As you had already observed, Beau’s conversation flowed freely but the best part was that it didn’t carry any requirements of your constant participation. You actually enjoyed some of the stories he’d regaled you with already and you liked how the banter between you was natural and easygoing. Even if you weren’t here on a date, you had a feeling that had you met him in another social setting, you would have enjoyed talking with him anyway. He just had this warm, light-hearted, and charismatic way about him that just invited you in and you had no choice but to want to be around him.

“It doesn’t annoy you?” Beau asked, dubious. “It’s annoyed every other woman in my life so far.”

You shook your head and shrugged. “Sounds like that’s their loss then.” You gave an appreciative smile to the server who delivered your new glass of wine and held it out to Beau. “And their loss is my gain.” 

Beau’s gaze was intent on you and his grin melted into the smirk that had first made an appearance when he’d asked you out. “Both our gain,” he murmured, lifting his pint glass to meet your glass in a soft clink. Neither of you looked away as you both drank and that familiar flip feeling was back in your stomach. 

“So.” You quietly cleared your throat after placing your glass down, forcing your gaze back on the steak you were trying to cut into while also attempting to rein yourself back in. If you weren’t careful, you might just ask him to skip dinner altogether and get straight to dessert…at your place. “You looked into me. Any questions?” You braced yourself, expecting the other two questions you dreaded: about the infamous serial killer case you’d been involved in back East that he had obviously read up on, or worse, your romantic history.

“Just one.” Your eyes flicked to his and you found him giving you that charming smile once more. “Are you religious?”

Your brows furrowed slightly, wondering where that had come from. A little part of you was dismayed at the question, hoping he wasn’t one of those guys. There was nothing wrong with being religious of course, but it wasn’t your thing. Back in New York when you had been patrolling the streets in uniform, you had gone on a date with a friend of a friend. By the end of said date, you were fielding questions about your sexual history, if you were willing to turn away from sin, and what you would be willing to do to avoid eternal damnation of your soul because you were a woman and a whore (his words, not yours). He had even tried to slip a pocket Bible into your purse without your knowledge before you hurried out of the building, telling yourself that you were done with blind dates forevermore. And you had been, though Cecilia had managed to talk you back into them once you got here (but you’d made your ‘absolutely no exceptions’ rule known before she did). But then of course, the two she’d set you up on pretty much closed out that option for you permanently.

With Beau, you hadn’t gotten that religious vibe from him but you also hadn’t known him all that long. Disappointment radiated throughout your chest. Perhaps you would be calling Jack for a ride after all. “No. Why?”

He gestured towards your neck and you glanced down, realizing what he was focused on. The immediate relief swept through you and you discreetly let out a breath. “It’s pretty,” he reassured. “I just thought…maybe…”

You maneuvered the cross pendant between your fingers and smiled down at it. You always wore it and it hadn’t even entered your mind that it might come up in conversation. When you had checked yourself over in the mirror earlier at the station, you didn’t even give it a second thought when you saw it, sitting around your neck, shining brightly for all to see. It was just a part of you at this point, like another limb, that you barely paid any notice to. Unless you sought it out like you had at your first crime scene of the day this morning. “It was a gift.”

You glanced up to find Beau nodding. “Oh. So, not religious then?”

“Not religious,” you confirmed. “More…spiritual.” You turned your smile onto him. “Maybe,” you added as a quick afterthought. 

His eyes were focused on you, warm as could be, and his smile echoed that warmth. “Same, actually.”

More relief flooded through you as you folded your arms on the table, pushing your plate away slightly. You were still eating but you needed your stomach to settle a little first from the flip-flopping it just did before you continued. “Sometimes with this job, it’s hard to be a believer, you know?”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Sure is sometimes.” He began to cut another piece of his steak. “A gift, huh? Who from?” He swallowed and then his eyes widened slightly. “I mean, only if it’s okay for me to ask that. Shit, sorry,” he laughed nervously at himself. “I am really bad at this. It’s, uh…it’s been a while.”

“Me too,” you reassured him with a smile, relieved to hear it. “I’m not that much better but I’m pretty sure this is what we’re supposed to be doing. Asking questions, getting to know one another…”

“Good point. Well, in getting to know one another,” He appeared serious all of a sudden and you noticed a little apprehension that hadn’t been there before. “I should tell you that I’ve been married before.”

That slightly surprised you, more from the topics being changed so quickly than the revelation. It was something you already knew thanks to your look into him earlier, but it had been a brief mention in everything you read. You were waiting for him to bring it up and now that he had, you were curious as to what heralded the end of his marriage and just how long ago it had been considering the Houston case had only been a few years ago and he had still been married then. You also wondered just how long he had been married.

“And I also have a teenage daughter.”

You kept your expression even and gave him a slow nod. So, that long then.

Beau cleared his throat nervously. “Her mom and I split up a few years back. They came up here and I followed them. I didn’t want to be too far from my little girl. But, some months back, she and her mom moved back down to Houston.” His expression darkened for a moment before it cleared and he gave you a nervous smile.

Your brows drew together. You could understand his moving up here to be close to his daughter; that was admirable even. Though when they moved back to Texas, Beau didn’t follow them this time? There was definitely a story there.

He was studying you, most likely trying to ascertain if this was a dealbreaker for you. You lifted a bite of steak on your fork and asked, “How old is your daughter?” When you placed the meat inside your mouth and began to chew, you noticed the relief sweeping through his expression. 

“Seventeen.” He gave you a wide smile, pride shining in his green eyes. 

“Wow. She’s almost out of high school.”

That smile grew even bigger if it were possible. You couldn’t help but mirror it; it was nice to see a father be proud of his daughter. It wasn’t exactly something you experienced yourself growing up. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Hard to believe. Em told me today that she and her mom are going to look at the University of Houston this weekend. My little girl is talking about going to college.” He shook his head. “Where the hell did the time go?” He murmured sadly, dropping his gaze to his glass in thought.

You gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. You imagined it must be hard not to be present for these important moments in his daughter’s life, especially considering what they’d been through. The serial killer case Jack, Anderson, and your Chief kept referring to turned out to be the same one you found out Beau and his department had been involved in. While one of the kidnapping victim’s names had not been disclosed to the media, the internal reports confirmed it for you: Beau’s daughter had been taken by the suspect. Thankfully, there had been a happy ending for all involved minus the killer. However, you still wondered why he hadn’t followed his family back home, especially after all of that. There had to be a reason he stayed (which you were currently grateful for) but you didn’t think it could be the job. It had to be something else but what that something else could be, you had no idea. You didn’t know his daughter obviously but seeing the sadness currently residing in his expression, you felt for him; you felt for them both.

Beau seemed to realize he had spaced out for a moment and quietly cleared his throat. He gave you a tiny smile but you could tell some of the light had gone out of it from before and his eyes weren’t as bright when they settled back on you. “Sorry. It just…” He made an explosion sound and gestured towards his head. “It still catches me off guard sometimes.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” You gave him a reassuring smile. You could see the gratitude staring back at you and you took another bite of your steak to give him another moment. He appeared to take your cue and did the same. When you were done chewing, you lifted up your glass to take another sip of wine. “It’s from a family.”

His brows furrowed slightly in confusion.

You gestured to your necklace. “It was given to me by the family of a victim. After I worked their case.”

You could see surprise and interest light up his eyes, but you appreciated that he didn’t immediately begin peppering you with questions. Instead, he smiled at you. “I’m sure they were grateful for everything you did for them.”

You affected a slow nod, your fingers immediately clasping onto your cross pendant as memories a part of you would rather forget began to play on a loop in your mind. You glanced out across the restaurant and Beau mercifully gave you a minute to get yourself together.

Eventually, you brought your attention back to the man sitting across from you, moving back into his chair and sighing in satisfaction. He had finished his dinner while you had been working to push certain images in your mind back into the box you locked everything from your job away in. “Best steak in the whole county. That with a beer at the end of a long day…never fails.”

“It is pretty good.” You had to agree; it was definitely the best steak you’d had since moving here. 

He seemed pleased at that. “Though, I may need to get some steps in before we leave.” He gestured towards his body. “I have a figure to maintain.”

You could see the teasing in his gaze and you decided to tease him back. “From what I can see, you don’t have all that much that you need to maintain. But, if you really want to work the calories off.” You gave him your best seductive smirk. “I can think of a few ways to help with that.”

As you expected, the shade of his eyes darkened slightly and his smile melted into that familiar smirk. “Do you now?”

You kept your gaze locked on his as you picked up your wine, finishing it in one long swallow, before placing the glass back down and licking the last remnants from your lips. When your tongue made an appearance, his eyes were laser focused on it, before lifting back to yours. All traces of the teasing from before were gone now. “I do,” you confirmed.

Images filled your mind once more, but this time they were of a more carnal nature, starring the attractive man sitting across from you, who very much appeared to be hungry again, and not for food this time. That expression of his promised deliciously dark and sinful things should you decide to make good on your implied offer. You were seriously considering throwing every rule you had right out the window and asking him to drive you back to your place, your car be damned. You’d call Jack for a ride to the station in the morning, not caring in the least about any jokes he might make at your expense on the way. With the way Beau was looking at you now, you were pretty sure you’d be too blissfully tired to care much anyway. 

“How is everything?”

The server’s question interrupted your little staring contest and Beau turned an amiable smile up at the man. “Great. Another ribeye grilled to perfection.” You took the opportunity to breathe and get your thoughts back in order. 

The younger man grinned, pleased. “Glad to hear it. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Beau glanced over at you as did the server, both waiting for your answer. You knew your reply would determine how you would spend the rest of your evening: sleeping alone or not sleeping at all.

After a moment of desire and logic warring within you, the former ended up winning out. You turned a polite smile onto the server. “Can I get some coffee, please? Decaf?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Beau’s gaze drop to his plate but you also could see the hint of a smile forming on his handsome face.

“Absolutely. Sir, would you like anything else?”

Beau beamed up at the man. “I’ll take some coffee as well. Also decaf. Thank you.”

The server nodded, grabbing your plates, and hurried off to get said coffee.

When Beau’s eyes met yours, you gave him an apologetic smile. You hadn’t meant to be a tease. You really did want to take him back to your place, but you also liked him and surprising yourself, you wanted to see where this could possibly go. You weren’t looking for a serious relationship right now (or possibly ever again) but you also didn’t want whatever this was with Beau only ending up as a one night stand. As much as you were attracted to him and as badly as you wanted to find out just what was stirring deep within those eyes when he looked at you like that, you wanted this to last just a little bit longer. That was what had the rational part of your mind winning the battle from a few moments ago, much to the chagrin of other parts of you.

Beau gave you a subtle nod and his returning smile was understanding and almost appeared a little relieved. You weren’t exactly sure what to think about that but he didn’t give you much time to ponder it before he hit you with the third question you despised. “So, how about you? Ever been married? Any kids?”

You could feel a familiar tension happening in your face when you forced a wan smile. “Never on both counts.”

“Never as in never happened? Or never as in you never plan to?”

You wondered why you had been stupid enough to finish your wine and not get a refill before ordering the coffee. You truly hated this part of dating, which was one of the reasons why you didn’t do it too often. Beau wasn’t asking anything outside of the box that would be expected from a first date, but God did you hate this question. 

“Never as in I’ve never been married and no, I don’t have kids.” You glanced around, looking for the server but not finding him. When you looked at Beau again, you found him studying you intently. He seemed to sense that this wasn’t a topic you really wanted to delve into and decided to leave well enough alone. He slowly nodded at your response and finished the remains of his beer.

The playful banter from before, the comfortable conversation, the teasing — all of it seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving a very awkward silence between you for the first time all evening. You mentally cursed yourself, knowing you were the one responsible for it. But you also reminded yourself, This is why you don’t date.

“So, I told you why I moved to Montana. What made you decide to transfer to Big Sky Country?”

You hadn’t expected him to ask that question and when you glanced up at him, you could see the kindness that was beginning to become his trademark staring back at you. He was swerving away from the previous topic and throwing you a lifeline.

“I just needed a change,” you admitted.

Mercifully, he didn’t immediately follow up with “A change from what?” and just nodded. “You like it so far? Outside of things like today I mean?”

You thought it over for a moment. “Yeah. Outside of things like today, I think I do.” You surprised yourself with that statement. You hadn’t really thought about it too much since transferring here. You had only really focused on the job part. You had just been so desperate to get out of New York, to try something different, that you hadn’t really looked before you jumped. And now that you were here and he was asking, it hit you that you hadn’t really taken a moment and thought it over in the four months you’d been here. Montana was certainly different to New York, in many aspects, and you thought the change in the pace of living would drive you nuts. Especially being used to big city life. But truthfully, you found that you much preferred your lifestyle out here compared to what it had been back East. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, Manhattan hadn’t been either, but there was no such thing as perfect — only close to perfect. And right now, studying the man sitting across from you, you knew he fell under that category and despite the heavy weight from work you carried, you felt a little lighter and had a little something resembling hope for the first time since you’d crossed state lines.

Beau crossed his arms and leaned on his elbows. “I feel the same. Took me a little bit, though. Quite the change from Texas, especially in temperature.” He chuckled and your smile widened. “But it’s beautiful up here, the fishing’s great, folks are nice…I had no complaints. And eventually, it started to feel like home.”

You slowly nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” you murmured.

The server appeared then with your coffee. Once you were set up, he left again, giving you both your space.

Beau picked up his cup, getting ready to take a sip. “So, uh, about that case from this morning…”

You placed your cup down and shook your head, chuckling but without any real mirth. “I should’ve known you’d try to pump me for information I can’t give you. No wonder you asked me to dinner then and there. My partner implied as much when I told him.” You were such an idiot. You knew he was attracted to you but you should have known this was going too well to actually be anything more than that and an attempt at getting you to soften up to give him information at the same time. You immediately thought of another reminder for yourself, This is why you don’t date cops.

“What? No.” He gently laid his hand over yours, causing you to look up at him. “That’s not why I asked you to dinner and I’m not asking you for any information. I know you can’t give me more than you already have and I’m not trying to push that.”

“Then why bring it up?”

He went to answer you but then stopped, studying you intently. You weren’t exactly sure what he saw but it had him removing his hand and sitting back, seemingly guarded all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He appeared like he wanted to say more but instead, he smiled apologetically. “I told you I’m no good at this,” he quietly chuckled.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, though it felt like anything but. “Let’s just forget it.” You gave him a small smile before sipping your coffee. 

His eyes were trained on you and he let out a quiet sigh. “Hoyt was right. I talk too much.”

You involuntarily tensed at the mention of his undersheriff again. That was twice now. Your instincts were screaming at you. “Maybe she’s not a fan but I don’t mind it.” You compulsively swallowed and then asked the question you hadn’t planned on asking for at least a few more dinners, and that was only if you both somehow managed to become serious about this dating thing and he made the impossible happen: changing your mind. “You asked me about my past so it’s only fair I ask about yours.” He nodded in encouragement. “Was there anyone after your divorce?”

He seemed a little surprised but didn’t hold back from answering. “I had some casual dates here and there. None of it really went anywhere, though. If I’m being honest, I was too focused on Em and the move up here to think about getting into anything.” 

You nodded, giving it a beat, before you asked the real question you needed an answer to. “So there wasn’t anyone serious? At all?”        

Discomfort quickly flitted across his expression and nervousness radiated off of him, answering your question before he verbally could. Disappointment surged within your chest. You should have known. “Just one. After I had settled in.”

You forced your tone to be as neutral as possible, relying on your training. “And?”

“It didn’t work out.” 

You shot him a look of disbelief. Obviously, it hadn’t or you both wouldn’t be sitting here right now. 

Beau let out a sigh. “Things just got…complicated.”

You nodded, not bothering to ask how or even who he was referring to. You already had a pretty good idea on both.

Staring at you, Beau seemed to contemplate something before elaborating, “Me and Hoyt…we dated for a bit.” And there it was.

You felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over you. Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach. You should have known. Rumors, no matter how exaggerated, didn’t start up without some sort of catalyst. Not to mention, her watching you like a hawk while talking to Beau that morning now made sense. You were all cops; if Beau had checked you out at all, no matter how discreetly, Hoyt would have seen it and been less than pleased. Especially, since she appeared to still carry a torch for him; that was more than obvious to you now. 

It was a shame. The date had been going mostly well until he dropped that little nugget or harsh truth. While you appreciated his honesty and willingness to be up front with you, and answer your probing questions, you now knew this would never work. The sadness that engulfed you at the thought should not have cut as deeply as it did depending on how little you actually knew this man who you had only met this morning. 

“Oh,” you forced out.

“Yeah, but that was some time ago. It’s been done for a while. Like I told you this morning, she’s my undersheriff and a friend, that’s all. Us trying for anything more than that just didn’t end up working out.”

“Obviously.” You gestured at the table, indicating the date you were on.

He laughed, his body relaxing. “Yeah.” He then graced you with a warm smile. “Well, maybe it did in a way.” At your furrowed brows, his smile melted into a smirk and he covered your hand with his once more. “You’re sitting here with me, now.” His thumb began to tenderly stroke your skin and you ignored the chain reaction it set off within you feeling his touch. “So maybe it ended up working out after all,” he murmured.

You gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Yeah,” you whispered, the sadness blooming within your chest. You knew at that moment that if you gave him the greenlight right now, your earlier hesitation before being damned, you could have him in your bed by the night’s end. There was definitely a mutual attraction between you that you definitely could have explored, even if it was just casual fun. But now… Now, the possibility of you and Beau, something fun that wasn’t just a one time thing or something more, had immediately been swiped off the table for you.

And just when you thought things in Montana might work out for you after all.

Beau had just pulled his car to a stop, right behind your parking spot at the station. He turned a smile on you. “There we go.”

You had asked him to bring you back to your car though he offered to drive you home, concern marring his brow when you’d insisted you were sober enough to drive yourself. He didn’t argue but you noticed he purposely took a longer route back to your precinct, which was just agonizing for you. Being in close proximity to the man you were highly attracted to but wanted as far away from as possible at the same time was complete torture. You considered telling him to pull over somewhere you wouldn’t be seen by anyone on the main road and working out the tension you both had along with your frustration, but despite your disappointment at how things had worked out, you couldn’t do that to him. From the little time you’d spent with him, Beau appeared to be a good man and he wouldn’t deserve you doing that to him. You knew he’d enjoy himself as well, sure, but then you insisting things stay professional between you afterwards, insinuating you were just there for one round of casual sex and that you had basically used him — well, he wouldn’t deserve that. Had this been someone like Taylor, you could have easily done that with a clear conscience, but not to Beau. So you kept your hands to yourself, stayed quiet, and stared out the window at the passing dark landscape. 

Beau had tried to make conversation a few times and you answered him, but it was the bare minimum. He had even tried to start up the teasing banter again once or twice but you never took the bait. You felt bad but it was best to close this up now rather than let the man have hope for something that could never be.

So once Beau stopped the car, you had to keep yourself from vaulting out of it and getting as far away as you could. Instead, you undid your seat belt, desperate to end this quickly but as kindly and respectfully as possible. “Thank you for dinner. You were right. That was the best steak I’ve had in a long time. You sure know your beef.”

“Us Texas cowboys always do,” he teased. His smile grew and you could see the hope coming to life behind it. You hated to see it, knowing you would soon be crushing it. Your heart cracked slightly when he picked up your hand, kissing the back of it in a manner that you’d only seen in movies. The feel of his lips on your skin sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. 

You felt him smile against your hand. “Cold?” He murmured.

“A little,” you lied. “Still not used to the temperature, I guess.”

“I know that feeling all too well.” He released your hand and turned on the heat, adjusting the vents in your direction. He then picked up both of your hands, bringing them up to his face and gently blew hot air into your palms, causing another shiver. This time, thankfully, he didn’t remark on it and there was no smug smirk. Instead, he began to rub your hands in between his, trying to warm you up. “I should’ve brought a jacket,” he muttered. “Or insisted you grab yours.”

“It’s fine,” you whispered. “I have to adjust to the Montana weather at some point, I guess.” 

Beau chuckled. “Yeah but not like this.” 

“I’ll be fine. The heat in my car was working this morning and I’m a straight shot across town where I’ll be stepping into a warm house.”

He continued rubbing your hands, his eyes meeting yours. “You live across town?”

You nodded.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you mention that? I could have dropped you right off and given you a ride back here in the morning.”

You softened at the nickname before your eyes narrowed. “What, you thought you’d be spending the night? Wow, presumptuous much?” You didn’t mention how you had been afraid the entire date that that very thing might happen if you invited him back to your place.

He gave you his winning smile. “Not what I meant, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes and gently pulled your hands out of his, rubbing at your left one and focusing on it. “You’ve got all sorts of nicknames for the ladies, don’t you?” You muttered.

You felt him tenderly cup your chin and he brought your eyes back over to his. You could feel  yourself falling into the depths of those green orbs that studied you so intently. “I’d really like to see you again,” he murmured. “Y/N,” he added for good measure with the hint of a teasing smirk.

You gave him a sad smile and gently moved his hand away from you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His smirk dropped and his brows began to furrow. “I'm not sure I understand. I thought—”

You scrambled for a way to explain that wouldn’t invite too many questions. “I’m just not looking for anything serious right now. And honestly, I think you are.”

The confusion on his bearded face intensified. “Then why did you say yes to the date?”

You shrugged. “Truthfully, I was hoping we could have something casual and I thought maybe that’s what you’d want as well, just to have some fun without any strings, something light, but now…”

He watched you, his eyes moving back and forth over your features, trying to assess what exactly had gone wrong here. You kept your poker face on, thankful for that one part of your job you had been able to hone over the years. Sure enough, disappointment began to spread over his expression. “I thought we had a really nice time. That we were on the same page.”

“So did I,” you admitted sadly. Until we weren’t. “But we just aren’t.” You pretended you didn’t see his face fall at that or the wall he immediately put back up after until a stony expression was all that looked back at you. “Look, I did have a nice time. A really nice time. Thank you for showing me some of what Helena has to offer.” You gave him a kind smile at the callback to your conversation from that morning and you weren’t surprised when he didn’t smile back. Not this time. Possibly not ever again. Another part of you was saddened that you had pretty much ruined any chance of you becoming friends, never mind lovers. But you just couldn’t do that to yourself again. You wouldn’t, even for a great guy like Beau.

You knew you shouldn’t do it but you couldn’t resist; this would be your only chance. You leaned in and quickly kissed him on the cheek. You felt his arms start to move, almost as if to circle around you and pull you in closer, but you hurriedly moved back into your seat before he could. “I guess I’ll see you around. Good night, Beau.”

His eyes stayed trained on you. “Get home safe,” he gruffed out.

Your smile widened at his kindness. “You, too.”

You stepped out of the car, noting that he didn’t rush to get out to open your door for you like he had earlier in the evening. That might have to do with the stone cold expression he still wore that faded into shock and disappointment when he thought you could no longer see him. You got into your car and started it, giving him a wave when he didn’t immediately move. A moment later, his car pulled away from yours and you watched as he slowly rolled out of the parking lot onto the main road. Once he disappeared out of sight, you let out a heavy breath and dropped your face into your hands.

You liked Beau, he seemed like a good man and he even seemed good for you. But the past relationship with Hoyt that he had admitted to you had you hitting the eject button as fast as you could.  No matter how easy and promising things had seemed between you before that little bomb dropped. Had he owned up to it this morning when he asked you out, you would have never said yes to him. You’d been there before and you had no interest in going through any of that again. That particular scar still stung even though it had been quite a while since that pain had been inflicted on you.

Speaking of which, Beau had been right; you should have said no when he asked you out. You took a deep breath, silently cursing yourself for being so stupid as to accept the date. What had you been thinking? That you’d get a friends with benefits situation going with the man? Or that you’d somehow magically be willing to enter into something serious when you knew deep down you couldn’t? Not only that, but you should have known from the way Hoyt looked at Beau at the crime scene this morning that there was something between them. You should have immediately known the second her possessive attitude appeared. He may have claimed that they were done and it was in the past for him, but that didn’t mean it was for Hoyt. And if she wanted to resume things between them, pick up where they left off before it got too complicated, it would only be a matter of time… You shook the thought from your mind and took another deep breath, blowing it out past your lips in a steady stream of air. 

Once you felt centered enough to be able to focus, you put the car in reverse and started the drive home, intent on putting Beau Arlen and another date that ended in disaster behind you. 

You watched as Jack leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, staring down the man currently sitting across from you both. 

“So, you’re telling me that you were nowhere near the Hartmans’ the night before last?”

“No, sir,” the young man insisted.

Your jaw tensed but you kept your face carefully blank. Sure enough, the kid’s coffee-colored eyes briefly flickered in your direction before settling back on your partner.

Earlier this morning, not too long after you had arrived for your shift, Ava Russell, Amelia Hartman’s sister, had marched into the precinct, towing along Madison, the couple’s daughter. You hadn’t seen either of them since you had spoken to them at the Hartmans’ home yesterday, after the latter had discovered the grisly scene of her parents’ deaths as a result of what appeared to be a home invasion gone badly. The older woman demanded to speak to you and Jack right then and there.

Your heart went out to the young girl almost immediately when you spotted her bloodshot eyes surrounded by puffy and blotchy-red skin. Even as she looked at you, her eyes were brimming once more with unshed tears.

“Ms. Russell, how can we help?” Jack asked kindly.

Before he could finish getting the words out, Ava turned to Madison and said sternly, “You need to tell them.”

Madison’s eyes overflowed once more and she sniffled, wiping her cheeks. “Aunt Ava, I don’t know if I should,” she whimpered. “What if I’m wrong?”

“Then he’ll be cleared,” Ava snapped. “But you need to tell them.”

Madison let out a sob and dropped her face into her hands. Ava looked as if she was about to bark at the girl again, so you quickly stepped in, laying a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. It wasn’t uncommon to see something happening like this after such a case as this one. Emotions were running high, they’d barely had time to process the two unexpected deaths, their thoughts most likely were turning over and over with memories of Everett and Amelia, wanting to know who had taken them from this world and so brutally — all of it. Ava loved her niece, that much was evident from what you’d seen the day before, but both women were most likely near their breaking points, even if they might be on different ends of the emotional spectrum at the moment. The best thing you could do to help was to listen to what needed to be said, to placate Ava and let her know you were absolutely taking her sister and brother-in-law’s case seriously, and to soothe Madison who had been through more than enough in the last twenty four hours. Not to mention, any investigator worth their salt would be willing to hear whatever Maddie had to say, even if she herself thought she was wrong, whatever it might be. You never know what form a break in the case might show up in.   

“Hey, Maddie,” you spoke softly. “How about you and I find a quiet place to sit down and talk? Would that be alright?”

She sniffled again and turned to glance up at you. 

“I’ll come with you,” Ava insisted, ready to march her niece down the hallway towards the interrogation rooms herself. 

“Actually,” Jack smoothly intervened. “Ms Russell, if you don’t mind, maybe you can stay here with me and answer a few more questions. Maddie will be fine with Detective Y/L/N. She’s in good hands.”

Ava had a knowing expression on her face and her eyes landed on your encouraging nod, making her sigh. “Sure. But, Maddie, you need to tell them everything,” she ordered, this time with a gentler but still firm tone.

Maddie gave her aunt a subtle nod, wiping her cheeks again, and you turned a kind smile on her. “Let’s go see if we can find a quiet room, okay?”

“Okay,” Maddie choked out.

You had led the strawberry blonde-haired teenager down the hall and into one of the free rooms. You made sure she was comfortable and had everything she needed before you sat down to hear what she had to tell you. And by the end of it, you had a feeling you might be thanking Ava for pushing her niece to come in if this was indeed the break in the case you and Jack had been looking for.

Maddie had a boyfriend, Dylan Carter, who she met last semester and who happened to be a few years older than her — something she hadn’t shared the day before with you or Jack when you’d asked. It turned out that he wasn’t a student at the university she attended but he lived locally off-campus. They had met at a party one night and things took off from there. She had been seeing him pretty steadily since then and they had gotten serious. So serious in fact that Maddie had brought Dylan home for a bit once classes let out for the summer. To say Everett and Amelia Hartman were unimpressed was an understatement. 

After observing the two lovebirds up close and personal, both parents wanted Maddie to move on from the relationship and focus on the path ahead of her. They reminded her she was young and had so many opportunities at her fingertips, just waiting to be taken. Maddie hadn’t been happy about their opinions and it had caused arguments between her and her parents, but when you pushed a little further, you eventually got the whole story behind the Hartmans’ immediate dislike of her boyfriend. 

They were convinced that Dylan was controlling and manipulative towards her, and they wanted him out of her life. He could be a sly charmer in public, very charismatic even, but privately, it was a whole other matter. He didn’t want her going anywhere or seeing anyone without him present. He had become possessive, overly jealous, and demanding. He even would put her down and call her names, tell her how stupid she was or how ugly she looked, and advised her that she should feel lucky that he chose to be with her, that he loved her that much. 

Classic emotionally abusive behavior: suss out their vulnerabilities, strip them down until they’re nothing and easily controlled, and you’ll be in control of them. Sadly, it was no surprise to you that Maddie had kept her relationship with Dylan a secret from you and Jack. You’d seen it several times before in cases you worked, even back when you’d been working the beat as a patrol officer. Just like you discovered in Homicide, there were way too many methods that people could employ to hurt others, way too many ways that innocents could be preyed upon by predators of various natures, all of them having diverse motives. It was something that you (and all cops truthfully) learned early on in your career. It was even why some of you joined the force, yourself included. To protect and serve — it wasn’t just a motto painted on the side of a patrol car to you.

You had paused the writing on your notepad when Maddie told you about an incident that had taken place only a few weeks ago. She and Dylan had gotten into another heated argument, this time over her disobeying him by going out to dinner with a girlfriend while he had been working. The argument escalated to Dylan wrapping his hand around her throat and pushing her into the wall. He had tightened his grip when she clawed at his hand and she had been terrified. He threatened her and let her go but not before he promised that if she ever did something like that again, she’d be sorry. That incident had frightened her so badly that she had snuck a phone call to her mom after he had fallen asleep. All she had running through her mind was what if he hadn’t let go of her? What if she’d never see her parents again, or her friends? What if he had squeezed too hard? What if he’d done worse? What if he killed her, even just accidentally? He regularly grabbed her, left bruises around her wrists and forearms, even squeezed her thighs and knees in death grips when he would drive, but never had he gone this far before.

Naturally, Amelia panicked and woke Everett. They immediately made the three hour drive to pick up their daughter, not caring in the least about what could be done for classes. She could transfer for all they cared but they wanted their daughter safely away from the abusive asshole who’d had the nerve to put his hands on her, with the intent to harm her. Something Everett told Dylan when they’d faced off while Amelia rushed Maddie out of his apartment and down to the car. The older man hadn’t missed the light marks forming on Maddie’s neck even though he’d already known what happened since Maddie had told Amelia. Her parents had wanted to contact law enforcement, take out a restraining order, but she pleaded with them not to. Eventually, she was able to persuade them, promising she’d stay away from Dylan for good.

That promise didn’t last that long. She had returned home with her parents as they’d requested, luckily being able to take some classes online, while Amelia kept posing the possibility of a transfer to somewhere closer to home at the end of the semester. Everything seemed to be settling into place though things had been terrifying that one night, and she was doing her best to cope with the new changes in her life. And of course, Dylan kept sending her apology texts, lonesome Snapchats, and left her tearful and pleading voicemails. He claimed he truly loved her, loved her so much that it drove him crazy. He never meant to hurt her, he just got jealous and he lost his head, but he would never really hurt her, yada, yada, yada. You’d heard all of those excuses before and you began to see what direction this story was about to take.

Sure enough, Maddie had started to sneak out to meet with him when he told her he was in town and desperately needed to see her. She lied to her parents about catching up with a friend who was taking a gap year and still living at home. Amelia seemed nervous to let her out the door but eventually, she gave in and just asked that Maddie stay safe, keep in touch — easy enough to agree to at her nineteen years of age. Everett had told her to call him if she needed him to pick her up or for anything at all. The two were none the wiser. And Ava hadn’t known about the scary incident with Dylan or anything after that whatsoever; not until Maddie had told her the night prior and then the older woman insisted she come in this morning to tell you everything.

One night about a week ago, Maddie met up with Dylan, and of course, he had been in a sour mood. He wanted her to move back, to move in with him, but she said she couldn’t. When he got angry, pressing her and then insisting she must not really love him, she panicked and said she couldn’t because of her parents. Maddie began to cry, recounting this moment to you, and her regret was palpable. It was obvious she believed she might be responsible for what happened to her parents even though she still couldn’t accept that Dylan would ever hurt them. He loved her after all, and to hurt them like that would hurt her. Surely, he understood that.

You pressed your lips together for a moment, choosing not to respond to that thought, and gently prompted her to tell you what happened next.

“He said ‘So, it’s your parents then? That’s why we can’t be together?’ Not really thinking and just wanting to end the argument, I told him yeah, that was why.”

“And what did he say to that?” You asked her.

Her eyes began to brim with additional tears, spilling over onto her cheeks. “He asked me,” she choked out. “‘If your parents weren’t a problem, would you be with me then?’” She began to sob, placing her face into her hands. “I told him yes but only because I wanted him to stop. I never meant to—” Her crying increased and you felt horrible for her but you still needed to do your job. The only thing you could offer in that moment was quiet kindness, silent support, and a box of tissues.

She took the box from you and sobbed out a thank you. You gave her a minute or so to collect herself but you had to prompt her to get the rest of the information. 

“Maddie, where is Dylan now?”

Her wet eyes snapped up to you in alarm, almost looking fearful, and she rushed out, “You’re not going to arrest him, are you?”

You had answered that as diplomatically yet vaguely as you could. It took some coaxing on your part, but eventually she told you where he was staying. Here in town still. Of course. There was no way he was going to leave the object of his dangerous obsession, the toy he liked to exert his control over. Obviously, you kept those thoughts to yourself. 

“Have you spoken to him since yesterday?”

She nodded, wiping a tissue under her nose. “Yeah.”

“So you told him about what happened to your parents?”

“Yeah,” she whimpered.

“And what was his response?”

Maddie’s eyes watered again but she managed to get out, “He told me he was really sorry, that he hated that I had found them like that, and he wanted to be there for me.” You got the sense there was more to it than that so you pushed.

“And?”

“And,” she whispered brokenly. “He said ‘I know how sad you are but just think, we can be together now. No one’s standing in our way.’” She burst into tears once more and you let out a quiet breath, writing down what she’d said. Not a confession by any means, but it certainly now made Dylan Carter a person of interest in your eyes. It was something you and Jack definitely needed to look into and pronto. And somehow you had to convince Maddie to take out a restraining order, something you hoped you could have Ava assist you with. She had listened to her aunt about coming in, maybe she’d listen about safeguarding her safety as well. You wanted nothing more than to comfort the girl but you had to do what you’d been brought onto this case to do and see through this investigation. You had gotten too personal, too caught up in emotions once before, and you couldn’t— You briefly closed your eyes in pain, feeling the weight of the necklace around your neck, but you forced yourself to focus. You had a job to do and that was to get justice for the Hartmans and by extension, their daughter, while also protecting her. You had a new lead, a possible motive — time to get cracking.

So here you and Jack were, sitting in another interrogation room with Dylan across from you, giving you both a mix of a bright smile and a cocky smirk. You knew without a doubt that you had your guy but you had to see the process through to make sure no stone was left unturned.

Dylan had been exactly where Maddie said he’d be and he didn’t appear to be worried by Jack’s pounding on his door or your request that he accompany you to the station to be questioned. Nor did he seem fazed by the presence of two Helena PD officers behind you, at the ready and each having one hand near their handcuffs in case the word lawyer was used, the other near their holster in case he made a move. He could try to refuse but there was really no room for refusal. And now that he had denied being anywhere near the victims’ home the other night, locking himself into his story, you were going to show him why there wasn’t. 

“Are you sure that you weren’t anywhere near the Hartman home the other night? Say around 11:30?” You asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Like I told you, I was at my friend’s. We watched the hockey game, drank a few beers, then I crashed on his couch. I was a little too drunk to drive if I’m being honest.” He tried to give you his most charming smile but you weren’t buying a single shred of the act.

“So not at all?” You repeated.

“No, ma’am,” he insisted.

You glanced over to Jack who gave you a subtle nod. “Well then, we have a problem, Mr. Carter.” You picked up your phone, pulled up the file Stephens had sent you, hit the play button, and turned it around to show the son of a bitch. 

He watched the scene unfold that you and Jack had watched before heading out to pick him up. A dark Toyota Corolla pulled up in front of a house two spots away from the Hartman house, coming to a slow stop. When the engine was turned off, it was a good minute before he got out and closed his door; you chalked that up to him checking the area before getting out. You then watched as he made his way down the sidewalk of the quiet street, stopping in front of the Hartman property, turned, and approached the house, slipping out of sight of the camera. Dylan had only put his hoodie up and had never looked around to see if the neighbors had any doorbell cameras, and like an overly confident jackass, he had pulled right in front of the house that not only had a doorbell camera but also a garage one, and his image was all too clear for anyone to see, plain as day.

You could see his jaw tensing but he kept his face tightly controlled. You stopped the video and placed your phone down. Jack had his arms crossed and his stare at Dylan never wavered. “That’s you, Mr. Carter.” You pointed to the device. “Pulling up to a neighbor’s house close to the timeframe that the Medical Examiner has estimated that the victims were killed. You then got out of your vehicle and approached the Hartman home. You were not seen leaving until approximately an hour later. You were there the night they died. So as I said, we have a problem.”

“That proves nothing,” he ground out.

“Nothing?” You turned to look at Jack in feigned shock before turning back to the younger man. “You lied about being at the scene the night of the murders. You are on camera arriving on scene. How does that prove nothing?”

“That’s not me,” he snapped. “You can’t tell who that is.”

You watched him for a moment. “It is you, Mr. Carter. And I’m willing to bet that if we find that hoodie, the victims’ blood will be all over it, won’t it?” You challenged.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You arched a brow over at him but remained quiet, allowing your partner to attempt to seal the deal, to push him off of the edge of that bubble he was currently riding on. You didn’t see a confession coming, not from this sadistic prick, but you had to take the chance that he might fold in the face of some of the evidence already gathered against him. 

“Here’s your chance to come clean, man,” Jack offered. “To tell us what really happened that night. Maybe you only meant to scare them, talk to them, convince them why their daughter should give you another chance. Maybe something went horribly wrong and you reacted. And maybe after that, you panicked.”

Dylan’s eyes snapped up and you could see the angry edge to his now darker brown gaze. You had him and he knew it. “I’d like to talk to that lawyer now.” The good old L word. You wished you could say you were surprised that he would have opted for that instead of admitting what he had done, but you weren’t. Not much surprised you anymore when it came to these types of cases, especially with these types of perps. There was no remorse in those eyes.

You gathered up your papers, phone, and got to your feet along with Jack. “Sure thing,” you said sweetly, giving him a strained smile and turning to leave the room. You opened the door and indicated to Officer Morris who had been standing sentry nearby, waiting. He gave you a nod and he made his way past you into the room. He ordered Dylan to stand up and put his hands behind his back, causing the latter to scoff and demand a lawyer even more firmly, saying he was being falsely accused and that he didn’t do anything. Morris asked him again to stand up and this time, Officer Lewis had also stepped into the room. Lewis reminded you of a wrestler you’d once seen on TV years ago, some guy named Austin or something; he was that big and intimidating looking, not that Morris was any slouch himself. Dylan wisely got to his feet and did as requested. 

“You’re under arrest for the murders of Everett Hartman and Amelia Hartman,” Jack began as Morris cuffed Dylan. He read him his Miranda rights and once he was finished, Morris led Dylan out the door. 

You watched as he passed you by, not looking away once even when he glared at you. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, he stopped and got a sick-looking smile on his face, whispering to you, “She’s mine, you know? We’re going to be together. Nothing is going to keep us apart now. She’s mine.”

You wanted to punch him, to tell him that Maddie or any other person on this planet would never be his, that he was going to rot in jail for the rest of his life and you’d personally see to it — but you kept your cool, your training kicking in, and you kept your features carefully schooled into a neutral expression. Plus, you refused to give him any of the reaction he was looking for. He had already taken too much from Maddie and her parents, Ava and their loved ones, and from what you’d found out about the victims during your investigation, the community. He had shattered Maddie’s world and it would be a very difficult road ahead for her but at least she was now safe from this monster.

“Let’s go.” Morris pushed Dylan forward and Lewis was right there to give him a hand. You continued staring after them as they made their way down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

“You okay?” Jack asked, next to you.

You turned to look at him, your brows furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

He inclined his head towards your chest and you only just realized that you had pulled your necklace out and been moving the pendant back and forth on the chain. You had no idea when or why you’d done that; you only hoped that you hadn’t done that in front of Dylan and the officers.

You cleared your throat and placed the pendant back inside your shirt. “I’m fine, thanks though.”

Jack nodded. “Bit of a rough case.”

You huffed out a breath. “Bit of an understatement.”

“True.” Jack gestured for you to walk down the hall to your squad room first. “But the important thing is she’s now safe.”

“As long as he doesn’t get bail,” you muttered.

Jack shook his head. “You think you could stop being the Bad News Bears for one minute? Take the win, Y/L/N.” He passed you and entered the room, plopping his notepad onto his desk. “Besides, I doubt he’s going to get bail. We’ve got him on video. The DA will use it and make a good argument.”

Jack had a point but so did you. “The girl’s parents are dead. She believes she’s the one that caused their deaths. How is that a win? For anyone?” You placed your things on your desk and turned around to lean against it, crossing your arms.

Jack gave you a look but sat down in his chair. “We just closed up a case literally before we hit the forty eight hour mark. We’ve got him on the Ring camera footage from the neighbor, we’ve got him on traffic cams driving to and from the house near the approximate time of death, he’s got the motive, he flat out lied about being at the scene, he’s obviously got a screw loose from what he just said in there to you that’s on camera. We’re getting warrants for his friend’s place and for the tracking of the friend’s car. The sister was able to convince the daughter to take out a restraining order so it’s on record — it’s an open and shut case. A win, Y/N. What more do you want?”

For the bastard to pay. Immediately dismissing that thought and masterfully keeping a tight lid on your emotions, you mulled over it. What more did you want? You couldn’t be quite sure other than that you wished this hadn’t happened in the first place, like with every single case as of late. Every single case since… You briefly fingered at the fabric covering the pendant around your neck. Jack was right; this was pretty much an open and shut case, and Maddie was now safe. Ava was even taking your suggestion to get the girl into therapy as soon as possible. You should take the win. You gave him a nod and turned to sit down at your desk. 

“Well, well, well,” Taylor began as he walked in, making your eyes roll as soon as you heard his voice. “If it isn’t my favorite lady detective.”

“Well, well, well,” you echoed. “If it isn’t the pain in my dick coming back. Could’ve sworn the doc gave me something for it but here you are, again. Gonna have to tell her that the creams aren’t working so I need something stronger.”

Jack hissed out a laugh and Stephens rolled his eyes, passing by you both to get to his desk. “Can’t you two play nice for one damn day?” He grumbled.

Riley Taylor was a few years younger than you, had just moved into Homicide two years before you transferred here, and was a perpetual pain in your ass. What he lacked in tact he more than made up for in his pursuit to drive you up a wall on the daily. The blond-haired detective thought he was slick, charismatic, and overall wanted by every single female in a ten foot radius. Guess who was the only female that worked within a ten foot radius of him during the week? Yep, you got that honor…though you knew it was more of a curse. 

Sure, he had pursued you the first few weeks you’d been out here, probably just happy at the prospect of having a woman to talk at instead of the wall since Jack and Stephens mostly ignored him. You’d politely declined, trying to be professional, civil, compassionate — and then you’d flat out turned him down when he took your response as a green flag to continue his pursuit. Suffice to say, things had turned downright ugly between you two and the animosity was at an all-time high. He wasn’t a bad guy per se, and you could work together if you had to, but he definitely got on your nerves pretty often. If there was a bane of your existence in this precinct, it was most assuredly him.

Mark Stephens was his partner, a middle-aged man with mostly gray hair and a bushy mustache to boot. He had been in Homicide longer than you, Jack, and Taylor put together though for some reason he had been passed over for Captain in favor of Anderson. The rumor was that it was due to his age while others claimed it was because the Chief couldn’t stand him. Stephens took a very no-nonsense approach to everything he did, even outside of the job. Jack told you that the last time a smile had been spotted on Stephens’ face was back in 1993 when the Toronto Blue Jays had won the World Series for the second time. By the time the World Series was supposed to roll around again the following year, the smile had all but slipped into legend. Jack also warned you that you’d have a better chance of finding the Holy Grail than ever hearing Stephens laugh. 

You could almost understand why Taylor enjoyed provoking you rather than dealing with Stephens all the time…almost. You didn’t think Stephens was that bad and you respected his experience and how he handled himself on the job. You also couldn’t help but feel some compassion for the man. He’d been around for how many years, seeing how many murders? You thought your squad and the whole damn precinct needed to cut him some slack.

“Oh, I’d like to get along with her, alright,” Taylor teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he continued to his desk.

“And just like that, I feel the sudden impulse to trade waxes for cement.”

Taylor halted in his tracks, frozen mid-air above his chair, his eyes wide. “You get waxed? Are we talking bikini waxes or…?”

“Alright, alright,” Jack interrupted, flashing a look between you both. “Let’s keep it PG in here for Christ’s sake.”

“Amen,” Stephens mumbled, already clicking away at his mouse.

“She brought it up,” Taylor argued. “Listen, I’m a simple man and I can only take so much.”

“You’re simple, alright,” you muttered, turning to open your drawer on the left side of your desk.

“You wish you had a piece of this, Y/L/N,” Taylor threw out there.

You whipped your head around so fast, you were surprised you hadn’t hurt your neck with the action. “Oh, you mean like a super tiny bite-sized piece?”

“I mean, if you want to bite…I’m game.” 

You scoffed in disgust and turned back to your computer. You had work to do; the asshole could go into the men’s bathroom and play with himself if he was that hard up for some entertainment. The way you’d heard it, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

A throat clearing nearby broke into your thoughts. “Hi.”

Your eyes shot up in disbelief, having heard a familiar voice in front of you that you hadn’t thought you would hear anytime soon, if ever again. Sure enough, there stood Sheriff Beau Arlen, hat in hand, facing your desk, his eyes intent on you. You hadn’t heard or seen him come in. “Hi,” you breathed out in surprise.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your fellow detectives turning to watch the scene happening in front of them. Except Stephens; the older man could care less. 

You marveled at how good Beau looked. Once again, you felt the pangs of disappointment when you remembered why you couldn’t go there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the feast your eyes were currently being served. You stared a little too long and Beau smiled to himself, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again, the unabashed desire deep within those green orbs while at the same time, his cheeks appeared to be a single shade darker. Somehow, the contradicting reactions made him look even more appealing to the naked eye. Naked. You tilted your head slightly as that word rolled around in your head, causing your teeth to subconsciously dig into your bottom lip. You bet he’d look just as good as he did with his clothes on, perhaps even better… 

Jack loudly cleared his throat and it thankfully shook you out of your very unprofessional thought track. You got your mind out of the gutter and you snapped back into professional mode immediately, ignoring your partner’s quiet sniggering. “What are you doing here?” You asked the man in front of you.

Beau gave you one of his infamous smiles. “Well, Detective Y/L/N, I was hoping we could have a quick word.” He quickly glanced around the room, taking in all of the eyes on both of you, before elaborating, “About the case from yesterday.”

Your heart immediately sunk in your chest. Of course. You weren’t allowed to be disappointed, though. You were the one who had insisted on things remaining professional between you and nothing more.

Jack’s head snapped up and he turned narrow eyes on the sheriff, glancing back and forth between you two with immediate suspicion. Even though Jack had asked you how the date went the night before, you had simply told him it hadn’t worked out but didn’t give any details. Before he could ask why, Maddie and her aunt had arrived. So you weren’t surprised when Jack watched you both like a hawk in this moment, especially with Beau mentioning that case and so openly. 

Before you could answer him, a knock on the open door had you all looking over to find Officer Hutchinson standing there, his gaze trained on you and Jack. “Anderson wants you to see you two in his office,” he gestured to you both. “Right now.” The man vanished before you could say a word in response.

Your brows furrowed as you exchanged a look with Jack, hoping like hell it wasn’t any bad news, or worse: the string of murders from your serial continuing. 

You glanced over at Beau as you got to your feet, noticing a fleeting look of guilt as he slipped his hat back onto his head. Your heart sunk even further. Maybe last night had really been an attempt to get information out of you all along. How could you have been so blind?

“Called to the boss’ office,” Taylor teased from his desk. “Wonder what that could be about. Maybe he’s finally going to partner us up, Y/L/N. About damn time, wouldn’t you say?”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a notepad and pen, resisting the urge to flip him off. He certainly gave your middle finger a daily workout, that’s one thing you could say for him. “The day that happens is the day I will happily go back to traffic duty.”

“No need for that. Not when I’ve got something you can check on the regular instead.”

You clenched your fingers around your pen and your jaw tensed as you fought not to say something smart back. You couldn’t believe he had said something like that in front of someone who wasn’t in this unit or even this precinct. What a dickhead. Well, if anything, Taylor was building his own sexual harassment lawsuit against him. The one bright spot in the everyday torture he inflicted on you daily. 

“More like break and then remove, but whatever,” you muttered. You ignored Taylor’s guffaw and walked around your desk, coming to a stop in front of Beau.

Beau looked unhappy and that guilt was back again in full force. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk first. Maybe we can have a quick word after the meeting.” At your tensing due to hearing him knowing about the meeting, your suspicions confirmed, he laid a gentle hand on your upper arm. “I’ll see you in there and we’ll talk after,” he assured you in a quiet murmur, squeezing your arm before dropping his hand. It surprised you when Beau then turned a blatant glare in Taylor’s direction before heading out the door. You had never seen that glare on his face before and from the look of it, you hoped you never did, especially directed at you.

Taylor snorted and sneered over at you. “Your boyfriend get jealous or something, Y/L/N? He should be.”

This time, you didn’t fight the urge and promptly flipped him off. Jack gestured for you to join him and you ignored Taylor’s resounding laughter as you two left the room. 

In the hallway, Jack muttered to you, “I thought last night was just a date.”

Your jaw tensed. “I thought so, too.”

“Did you talk about the case at all?”

You stopped in your tracks and turned a scowl on him. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Darcy. I know we’ve only been partners for four months but I am a goddamn professional. What? You think some good looking guy makes eyes at me and my brain turns to mush and I forget everything I have worked for? That I’m that fucking stupid? Think again,” you snarled.

Jack held up his hands placatingly. “Relax. That’s not what I’m saying. I only meant, did he bring up the case?”

You let out a breath. “Yeah. Once.” You raised your chin a little, daring him to challenge you on this next part. “But I shut it right down.”

Your partner nodded and held out his arm in front of you, gesturing for you to continue your trek. You did but only after eyeing him severely, giving him the most withering look you could. 

“Is that why it didn’t work out?”

“Among other things,” you snapped, not wanting to talk about any of that right now.

Jack gave you another nod and remained quiet the rest of the short walk to your captain’s office. Once you reached the door with the frosted pane of glass bearing the name “Captain James Anderson” in gold letters, Jack gently touched your elbow to stop your progress. “Alright, listen. When we’re in there, let me do the talking.” At your fresh glare, he hurried to add, “Whether you like it or not, I’ve known Anderson longer and whatever firing squad we’re possibly facing in there, I can grab his ear and get him to listen. Especially with Sheriff Loverboy in there now.”

Your eyes widened. Was Darcy trying to push you over the edge? Or get you arrested for homicide? “Are you suggesting that I—”

“No,” he rushed out. “Of course not. I’m saying you need to keep an eye out. You got a good look at his body language last night.” At the fury filling your eyes, Jack assured, “Professionally speaking. You got a pretty good read on him so you know what to look for. Y/N, we need to have each other’s backs in there, alright? We don’t want to lose this case. Not when we’ve fought so hard to keep it.”

He gave you a meaningful look and you unclenched your jaw, sighing, and gave him a curt nod. Jack was right. Not only did you need to be sharp in there but you both had been on this case from the very beginning. You’d be damned if you’d let anyone take you off of it or try to push you out. 

After a moment, Jack knocked on the door. “Come in,” Anderson called out.

You took a deep breath and smoothed out your features, giving Jack another nod to let him know you were ready. He returned it and opened the door, allowing you to walk through first. You froze at the threshold. Your body tensed and it took everything you had to keep the shock and ensuing anger off of your face. 

Sitting in front of Anderson’s desk was Hoyt, smirking up at you, and the sheriff who had taken you out last night, who had asked to talk to you just a few minutes ago. Beau’s eyes sought yours but you refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you kept your eyes on the smug blonde seated next to him. 

If you had any doubts about your decision from the night before, they had all but evaporated into thin air after spotting the woman in front of you. You remembered Beau’s words from last night. “Things just got…complicated.” Seeing Hoyt’s smirk grow the longer you stood there and noticing Beau fidgeting next to her out of your peripherals, you actually found yourself agreeing with his sentiments. Complicated sure was a nice way of putting it.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this series.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

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[ask--lysandre]

twink :3

(@purriors)

Incorrect!

[Images] Selfies of Lysandre in a gym mirror, some are of him doing gym rat poses and flexing while some are just of him naturally posing, showing off his natural yet well built body. He's got muscled biceps, thighs, calves, abs, chest, even his ass is. The last image is of a weigh-in card, which says that Lysandre is a good 210 lb and 6'7.

[Video, 1 minute] A video of Lysandre loading up weightplates onto a dead lift bar, you can't see the weights on the side till Lysandre decides to bring one over, it's a 50 pounder. He gets done loading up, and then boom, he's pulling up the bar and grunting as he lifts the weighted bar above his head for about five seconds before dropping/setting it down. He walks back to the camera with an exhausted smile on his face before the video ends.

[jimin-bangtan]

Jimin's Thorns & Studs

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

I have wondered for a while about Jimin’s photocards for his album, FACE. In particular, I wondered about the thorns & studs pictures.  I wanted to know the difference between the thorns and the studs and finally came up with a theory of my own.  

THORNS

I have decided that the thorns are on places where Jimin was injured and/or where pain was or is associated with those parts. The thorns going down the left side of his neck are what convinced me of this conclusion. We know that Jimin has chronic, and sometimes severe, neck pain.  It is so severe that he has missed (a surprisingly few number of) performances and has even sought hospital care. He also has received shots, and we have seen him wearing kinesiology tape or pain-relieving patches.

If you pay careful attention, there are many times where Jimin is in interviews or activities where he briefly touches, massages, or presses on his neck, as if it’s a casual gesture, but when I actually feel his neck is bothering him.  When you begin to notice it, it is surprisingly often and has been occurring over a very long period of time. It’s either an unconscious gesture or he’s become a pro at making his reaction to his discomfort less noticeable or more natural.

Thorns are also on his left eyebrow and left ear. I don’t know anything about the eyebrow other than it is on the side where he has a smaller eye. Yes, his left eye is slightly smaller (often on the right side of a photo). The difference between his eyes seems more pronounced when he’s tired. (Keep in mind some photos or Lives are mirrored images.) To me, his imperfections, however, make him more beautiful, not less. I don't know why the eye is smaller, but Jimin chose to acknowledge it along with all of the other vulnerabilities he was courageous enough to reveal. I'll say more about that when I address the studs.

The ear issue, I suspect, may have been from when BTS was filming the Run music video and JHope & others hit the side of Jimin’s head with a pillow during the filmed pillow fights. I can’t locate the behind the scenes footage from this video shoot where I saw JM lightly remark that he used to have an earring in his ear, suggesting it had been torn out while filming one of the pillow scenes. It’s possible an injury occurred then or at a later time, injuring his ear rim.  He stopped wearing that top lobe earring for some reason, but his ear appears repaired or okay now. It may have been painful when it first happened, which explains why thorns were used. 

STUDS

The studs, I believe, may represent things that have caused him some distress or have been problems to him. They also could be things that aren’t painful but that he was born with and were not necessarily caused by injury.  

The 3rd picture at the top shows Jimin wearing the studs but also a lip ring. Since it likely would have been awkward to put a stud on his lip, I believe they possibly used the ring for the same purpose as the studs. Jimin’s natural and attractive lips should not have been a problem, but I do feel they have caused complications for him, where people describe him or call him nicknames based on his lips, often intending to be affectionate or cute, but could possibly be an issue to someone with insecurities and who has a feature that is more pronounced and noticeable than most others around him. He also has had shadows created by incorrect lighting for his top lip that has caused him problems on Lives and in non professional photos. He has even had makeup artists do strange things to minimize (or maybe enhance) the normal appearance of his lips. 

There are better instances showing the shadows but these are the best I could find at the moment.

Jimin also has studs around his smaller left eye, which could be a minor birth defect or from an infant injury (that I vaguely recall him speaking about but can’t locate the documentation).  There is a larger stud on that same eye, which could imply that there might have been an injury too - or it is possibly minorly painful at times. There is a stud on his other eyebrow too, but I don’t have any information on that issue. 

The earlier makeup artists were excellent at using skillful technique to balance his eyes or minimize attention being drawn to his smaller eye. He also often likes hair hanging down on the left side, even if it’s just a strand or two.

REFLECTION

It is worth noting that we are only seeing the front of Jimin’s face, neck, and shoulders.  It is possible there would be thorns and studs throughout his entire body, front and back, if shared. Also, worth noting is that considering the amount of pain Jimin must often experience with varying degrees of intensity, he has done exceedingly well to work through the pain more often than not and to not even complain about his circumstances. 

Another noteworthy observation is that in spite of whatever thorns and studs issues Jimin was born with or encountered, he still continued to grow and to be a decent, generous, kind, successful person.  He could have used them as excuses to be selfish, harmful, or unproductive, but I have lost count of the number of people who have interacted with him who have explained the positive impression he has left on them. Jimin continues to be a beautiful person inside and out.

Jimin’s album, FACE, was about him looking at himself and confronting all the external and internal wounds and issues that have affected him. I feel the significance or meaning of the pictures may have been overlooked by many.  Jimin revealed a lot of vulnerable information about himself and his pandemic experience through his songs, but I also feel he revealed a lot of vulnerable information in the photos connected to the album that may have been about his overall life and career as well. Set Me Free, pt2 sounded like it was about more than just pandemic pain and isolation. We should all be so reflective as to confront, if not reveal, our own thorns & studs. Cheers to Jimin for being so brave and open about his own.

[finite-breakpoints]

Mara: "You're insufferable."

Cyrus: "And?"

Mara: "And an absolute lunatic."

Cyrus: "And?"

Mara: "The bane of my existence."

Cyrus: "...And?"

Mara: (stares in utter frustration)

Cyrus: "Keep going if you want. I'm not gonna stop you."

Mara: "...Hold on. Is this your idea of fun? What is wrong with you???"

Cyrus: "You're gonna have to be more specific than that."

[arcadekitten]

How I created a dress-up game in RPGMaker!

At least one person asked me to make a guide for this and that’s enough for me! Though, bear in mind, I may not be the best at explaining things and I used an example from assets I already had.

I made the dress-up game pictured below using RPGMaker MV, but I’m sure this method is applicable to versions above MV as well. I will be writing this post specifically through the lens of using MV (You’re also going to need some plugins, but not a lot!). At the time of typing this post, all RPGMaker engines are on sale until October 5th (just to let you know!)

(Please note: This method does not account for a game where you can freely change the colors of characters hair/clothes)

(Please note x 2: this is not a tutorial for learning RPGMaker, but a tutorial on how to make this specific type of game within the engine. Prior RPGMaker experience and familiarity is required when following this tutorial!)

I’m not the best at explaining things, but I’m sure going to try my best!

List of things we’re going to need:

-An RPGMaker Engine, preferably MV (or MZ) since they already come with mouse support.

-An art program

-A tileset consisting of words and arrows

-All your dress-up accessories as PNG images

-A blank PNG image

-2 plugins

First things first is you’re going to want to decide on the canvas size of your game. Keep in mind with the way RPGMaker works, there’s a high chance you’ll wind up with black bars on the side of your screen. If your game is intended to be played in browser on itch.io, it shouldn’t be much of an issue as you can choose the display size on the game’s page to match the visible game. (I also just personally wasn’t concerned about the black bars for a dress-up based game anyways)  The canvas I chose to work with for this game was 1152 x 864, but you can choose whatever size you feel will help you draw most effectively(just keep in mind how it might appear in browsers or if the player will have to zoom out!) If using MV, you change your canvas resolution by going into the plugin list and selecting “Community_Basic”

When making the assets in your art program, I find it easiest to have your canvas match the canvas size of the game. We’ll use Nova as our example character for everything. I drew them and all their assets in the center of the screen (for easier mirroring). The position of all the items can be adjusted later in the engine

I would start by doing a few test assets and putting those in the engine to make sure you get the hang of the whole thing, but this is where you’ll be making all your assets for a given character! (So if you wanna make some test assets and then move down to the “Putting it together in the engine” section, that might be a good idea!)

Here I create and separate every asset into their own folders(categories) and subfolders. For example, hats get their own folder labeled “hats”, and the subfolders “hat 1” “hat 2” “hat 3”, etc, each containing their own individual hat asset.

You can make as many or as little categories for clothing as you like. When you have everything you need, make at least one asset from all your categories visible, and make sure all the categories are ordered in the way they are meant to appear in game. This way, you can make sure nothing is overlapping in the incorrect way(at least for what your intentions are). When your categories are properly ordered, keep them in that order, as you’ll use it for a basis later when importing the assets into the engine. 

Alright, this next part is a little tedious. Now you’re going to save every asset individually by hiding every other folder/layer except for the one you’re saving. It might help to have a naming convention for your assets, for example all of Nova’s assets follow the scheme of “dressup nova-shoes 4.png” “dressup nova-shoes 5.png” “dressup nova-shoes 6.png” etc etc.

NOTE: In addition to these files, remember to include a BLANK png image with nothing on it! This will help later!

Once this is done, we can start importing them into the program! 

Putting it together in the engine: 

Open up your RPGMaker project’s file directory. Find the folder named “img”, and in that find the folder named “pictures”. Drop all your clothing/hair/face/etc assets into this folder.

Now we need to set the scene. The scene being…a map! I used multiple characters so my game has a different map for each one. 

Since Nova is our example character, let’s focus on Nova’s map. 

Make sure the width and height of your map is large enough to cover the whole screen (sans any black bars you might have on the sides). You can fill in the back with tiles, or you can do what I did and add a small parallax backing that loops across the screen. I made a small one with two hearts in the corners for a nice scrolling effect!

To start this map, let’s put in some of the categories to choose between. I did this by laying out the words on a tileset, and drawing that tileset onto the map. The order of categories I chose does not reflect the layer order of clothing items, but rather was organized by what I felt was a natural start-to-finish order progression in a dress-up game.

Don’t worry about putting the choice arrows next to the categories yet, though! We’ll do that in a little bit. 

Now we’re going to start with actually putting your character and their clothes/hairs/etc into the map. Double-click anywhere on the map (where you won’t put any other buttons) to create an event. 

We are going to set this event to autorun. In this event we are going to set up all your layers, even if nothing needs to be presented on them yet. To start, I added some comments to help me keep track of them.  For context, when you choose to show an image in RPGMaker, it asks you for the image number. The image number is essentially the image’s “layer”, with 1 being the bottom-most layer and 100 being the top-most layer. Up to 100 images can be displayed on an RPGMaker screen at any given time. Even though 1 is the bottom-most layer, I chose to start at 10 just in case I wanted to add more layers underneath later. So layer 10 is my bottom-most layer, and layer 24 is my top-most layer. 

Let’s start with our bottom-most layer, the background asset. 

The background is this pink rectangle behind Nova. 

Even if you change its appearance, this background itself is always visible. So we are going to show the first background on layer 10 with the Event Command “Show Picture”. 

(Note, because I wanted all the dress-up assets to be on the right side of the screen, every picture’s X position is offset by 200. You may want to offset your game in another way, or keep it centered.)

Because this is an asset that is always visible on the screen, we are also going to set up its variable. Select “Control Variables” in your event commands, set it to a constant of "1" and add it underneath the "Show Picture" command,

Don’t worry about the #number of the variable, all that matters is the number of what the variable equals. As you can see we are showing “dressup nova-BG 1”, so our variable should equal 1 to correspond to this.

The next asset up from that is our back accessory on image layer 11. (Nova can have fairy wings or a yoyo accessory, for example.) The back accessory doesn’t always need to be present, so we will simply set this image as being our BLANK png asset.

We will continue going down the column like this! Any asset that doesn’t need to be present will be set as a blank, and any asset that does need to be present (like Nova’s background, Nova’s hair in the front and back, Nova’s face, and Nova’s base) will be set as the corresponding image and have its variable set to “1”.

(Note: The base does not require a variable as it does not change)

And because this is an autorun event, we have to close it off. Add a control self-switch A, and then add a new event page. On the 2nd event page, merely click off self switch A in the conditions box

Doing this will ensure that the autorun event won’t keep trying to show the images in an endless loop.

Go into your database tab and under system, check that your starting position is on the correct map (if you have more than one) and start your game. Your autorun event should show all the images you asked it to. (I was gonna have a pic here but I'm limited on pics so)

Now, using our category list that we placed as tiles onto the map, we are going to be adding the arrows next to them to make them function.

Even though it's at the bottom, we’ll start with the category Background as an example since that was the first we implemented.

Create an event on the left side of Background and make its event image a grayed-out, left facing arrow, to communicate that the player cannot click anymore in that direction. Set its condition to be variable activated, with your Background variable being greater than or equal to 1. Leave the event page contents blank.

Create a 2nd event page on this event. On this 2nd page, replace the grayed-out arrow with a colored arrow, and set the Background variable to be greater than or equal to 2. This means that as long as the variable is 2 or above, the player can press the back button and go back to see the previous Backgrounds. 

This time, we WILL fill up the contents on the event page. 

First we are going to put a control variable command. Set your Background variable to subtract a constant of 1. This means that every time the event is clicked, it will subtract 1 from your Background variable (since this is your “Back” button).

Next, we are going to include a conditional branch command like so!

Under this Conditional Branch we put a Show Picture command, where we show an image on layer 10(the same from our autorun event). We can see that if Nova’s Background variable is equal to 1, then layer 10 is going to show the first background–that pink rectangle from before.

Let’s copy-paste this conditional branch and edit it slightly! 

Repeat this for every asset you have for a specific category. (In this case, Nova has 5 different backgrounds, with one background needing to be visible at all times.) So our 2nd event page should look like this:

This button event is now ALMOST complete–but we’re missing something! 

We need this event to activate when we click on it! Normally in an RPGMV game, when you click on an event, the player character will walk to the event before it can activate. But for a dress-up game, we want the event to activate as soon as it’s clicked on!

Therefore, we need a plugin! You’ll need a plugin that makes events activate based on a click trigger. For me, I downloaded the “TDDP_MouseSystemEx” plugin for MV found here: https://forums.rpgmakerweb.com/index.php?threads/mouse-system-ex.46511/

(Remember to follow the terms of service for whatever plugins you use!)

After adding it to my in-game plugin list and turning it on, I added the “click_activate!” notetag to the event (as instructed by the plugin) and now it works as soon as it is clicked on.

Next, we have to make the Forward Button! This is easier now that we have the Back Button as a base.

To make your Forward Button, we’re going to copy the 2nd Event Page of the Back Button event, and make it the first page of our Forward Button event. We are then going to change three things:

-Remove the condition variable

-Change the image to a right-facing colored arrow

-Change the control variable from a “subtract constant of 1” to an “add constant of 1”

So your first Forward Button event page should look like this!

For the 2nd event page of your forward button, remove all the contents in your content box. Change the arrow to gray-right-facing arrow, and add a condition variable equal to your number of assets for the category. 

Because Nova has 5 Backgrounds, our number is 5. If Nova had 7 Backgrounds, this number would be 7. If Nova had 3 Backgrounds, this number would be 3, etc.

This ensures that when a player has clicked to the last asset, they can’t continue increasing the variable past what is needed. 

You then continue making these types of Back Buttons and Forward Buttons for every asset, until you have everything you need!

But WAIT!!

For objects that don’t always need to be present, we add one extra conditional statement!

Let’s use socks, for example. Nova does not need to wear socks to complete an outfit. So for the socks’s back button, we make sure to set the variable condition to 0.

After that, under the event contents of our sock buttons, we make sure to add an extra conditional statement for the sock variable. When the variable is zero, we show the BLANK image–so there are no socks to be seen! (Remember to apply this extra statement to both the back and front buttons!) Do this for every asset that doesn’t always need to be present such as socks, dresses, hats, etc etc.

That’s pretty much the basics of all the mechanics you need to get it to work!! I won’t be going over other things like the reset game button/disabling menu access/hiding the player walksprite, as those are things you probably know how to do already if you’re familiar with the engine.

But I WILL share one last piece of optional advice that I feel makes a big difference. 

While testing things out you might notice that there is slight lag between changing images, a blip between pictures. This is because RPGMaker doesn’t preload images, and loads in an image as soon as it’s called. 

In a downloadable version of a game this slight lag is negligible. However, if you intend for your game to be browser-based, this lag will be significant and noticeable. In order to fix this problem, I’d recommend downloading Galv’s Image Cache plugin found here: https://galvs-scripts.com/2017/04/26/mv-image-cache/

This plugin will help pre-load images so there’s no lag!

However, you will have to write the name of all your assets manually in its plugin menu. If you have a lot of images (which you will, for a dress-up game) this could take a very long time. 

My advice is to go into your game’s picture folder, select all, and select “copy file path” from your folder options. Paste this list into an excel sheet, remove the directory name and file extensions, and then paste it into a google doc.

Edit the names together until there is no spaces between image names and they’re all separated by commas. Then, select all and paste your list into the Image Cache plugin’s settings. If you spelled something wrong or placed a space incorrectly, the game will not start and will tell you what image it was struggling to find. So having this to refer back to is very helpful and also means you don’t have to retype everything in the event of an error! 

(Below is just a preview of how my list of image names looks for my dress-up game and what i copy-pasted into the plugin settings for the Image Cache plugin)

And thaaaaat should be everything! I hope this wasn’t too hard to follow, or messily formatted! But I tried my best and will try to answer any questions one may have about it!! Good luck creating your dress-up game! 

[sterlingarcher23]

Addendum: Eleven, are you listening? - 5|6

I couldn't make heads or tails of the 3 at first ; Chrissy's clock also points to 3 and 56 (close to 57), so I thought about it: it's a hint of the visual representations of the 5|6 appearing three times in front of us. Twice in the mug shot ; once in the trailer park scenes.

It's not about 2:56 (which it is if you only read it this way) or 3:56 but more the numbers it points to. Since the clock is ver, visible, they pretended it works like one, so the long hand had to point a enough over 56 (only close to 57) and this way the short hand just touches the III/3 ; the idea is to have it just so in the frame, not perfectly pointing to numbers but as perfect as possible to give the illusion that it shows time when in fact, that is not the idea. It has to point (barely) to the same numbers that appear in the trailer: (3) thrice the 5|6.

And 5+6=11

011 (tattoo) and 110 ( Max's [very likely] hospital room ; who else?) making them mirrors/Jungian shadows of each other.

Like Max's mirror image on the floor and the walkie talkie (>El) and Danny's mirror touching him at the door knob. (lot's of shiny objects with mirroring effects, doubles, twins etc in this movie - Danny & Tony, his, well, alter)

Here's an example of an incorrect clock - Max's clock. It's much harder to make out the exact position of the hands. But it's not showing a time. The long hand is just over the thick diagonal line of the X (in XII) and the short hand is between 1 and 2. That's BS if it's supposed to tell the time.

It's impossible to have the short hand between 1 and 2 when the long hand is almost at twelve (it should then more point to 6). Btw I tried with my pocket watch just to make sure. - This is a prop. Manipulated. - This tells you that the clocks don't (necessarily) tell the time. It's about numbers.

Another clock which is about numbers not so much about time (even though it shall show the correct time) and where the hands basically point to.

If it's telling the time additionally, then its 20 before 11. Again it would be about numbers.

PS: I do think the Duffers try to be (or indeed are) the Kubricks of their time. He was meticulous and obsessed with details, the inconsistencies and errors in films like The Shining are done on purpose - just recently this was again said by Maya Hawke that they are very meticulous with the details.

[serenpedac]

One of the things that has been on my mind as of late is The Three-Body Problem, both the recent Netflix series and Cixin Liu’s book.

This is not about some of the major things that people are probably discussing elsewhere, but just a few of my own thoughts on some details. I’m writing this down mainly for myself, but still wanted to share it somewhere, in case anyone is interested in my ramblings about astronomy and particle physics ^^

One of the things I love is the human-computer they make in the game. I'm not a computer scientist and can't comment on how realistic it is, but since computing is 1s and 0s, I can see the basics work. 

It also reminds me of an early simulation of cosmological structure formation in which they used people to act as particles. They were spread out and then given instructions about where to move, I assume based on which other person was closest, while also taking into account clusters of people would have a stronger effect than a single person. I tried to look up more details, but couldn't find anything, unfortunately, but it’s something that was briefly mentioned during a cosmology course.

The idea is similar to modern simulations, although it’s extremely simplified of course (see here for a beautiful example).

Another thing that stood out to me was the mention of Chien-Shiung Wu*. It’s a very brief mention and mainly in the context of being a woman in STEM, but I think she ties into the scientific side of the story as well.

[For this part, please bear with me and apologies if anything is not clear or incorrect. I’m not the best person to explain this as I really, really wanted to love (astro)particle physics, but that intention was rather one-sided. The few courses I took that dealt with it were a struggle.]

Early on in the story, the point is made that the results the scientists get from experiments are chaotic, they keep getting different results for their monitored particles despite having the same initial conditions. This means that “[...] the laws of physics are not invariant across time and space.”

This immediately reminded me of the breaking of symmetries in particle physics, because that also deals with particles behaving differently from what was expected according to the laws of nature known at the time. In particular the breaking of parity and time symmetry came to mind, as they are about place and time, respectively. And guess what? Wu discovered the breaking of so-called parity symmetry. Let me explain it a bit more ^^ 

Parity transformations are about flipping the sign of the coordinates (of, for example, the location of a particle). You can flip all three the coordinates (x,y,z) → (-x,-y,-z), but you can also just flip one. This ties into “mirroring”, for which you can imagine a mirror being placed on the y-axis, so that the particle’s x coordinate would be -x, as seen in the image below.

If parity symmetry holds for a particle interaction, that interaction would give the same result in a mirrored universe as it does in the “regular” universe.

Experiments showed that this symmetry held for the electromagnetic and the strong nuclear force, and it was expected to hold for all fundamental forces. Wu, however, found that this is not true for the electroweak force. She looked at radioactive decay for a form of cobalt and found that emitted electrons had a very specific preferred direction, which they wouldn't have had if parity symmetry would have held (I'm summarising and simplifying here).

Her result gave us a way of distinguishing left from right, scientifically, but also contradicted what was expected to be a general rule of physics: parity symmetry.

This had large implications for the world of particle physics and eventually led to the development of the Standard Model: a new theory that aims to describe the elementary particles and fundamental forces. (As happens so often with women who make significant contributions to science, her two male colleagues got a Nobel prize for this, while she was overlooked)

Obviously, these results are not the same as the circumstances in The Three-Body Problem—here, a new theory could explain the observed behaviour, whereas the story has unpredictable results—but both have particles that don’t follow the laws of physics that had been established before then.

So, my theory is that the mention of Wu is a nod to this breaking of a scientific paradigm. (I might be way overthinking this)

Finally, something that disappointed me was how in the chapter about the cosmic microwave background (CMB), there's this sentence "The universe itself was transparent; as long as you were sufficiently sharp-eyed, you could see as far as you liked." This is incorrect.

Right after the Big Bang, the universe consisted as a hot plasma, which was opaque. Photons were unable to get out, because the particle density was so high. They would basically be bouncing between particles all the time, never able to travel an extended distance. It is only as this plasma cools down and electrons combine with protons to form hydrogen that photons are able to escape, and these photons are what forms the CMB.

Because you look back in time as you look deeper into the universe, you would eventually encounter this "surface of last scattering", from which the CMB emerges. Beyond this point, you cannot see.

Normally, I wouldn't mind seeing the universe being called transparent for the sake of the storytelling, but to see this mistake in the same chapter that explains the CMB, when the two are tied together, irked me.

But overall, I am loving the book, although I haven't finished it yet (and there are 2 more). I prefer the way it sets up the story and how it feels more grounded than the series. Although I do like the characters from the series more than those in the book (Jin <3333 Auggie! Saul! Will!)

Kudos to anyone who has read all this!

*~*~*~*

Also, here’s a cool article that goes into finding solutions for the three-body problem. It’s by the one of the authors of a solution that is mentioned in the book.

*A confession: when reading her name, I would not have realised that Chien-Shiung Wu was the person behind the Wu experiment, but the translator’s note by Ken Liu mentioned that her work disproved the holding of parity symmetry.

All quotes are from this translation.

[athingofvikings]

A Thing Of Vikings Chapter 135: The Hall Of Mirrors

Chapter 135: The Hall Of Mirrors

One category of recurrent problems that are endemic to the field of espionage are those of ‘cognitive traps’—systemic biases in thinking and analysis that lead the intelligence analyst down blind alleys and towards incorrect conclusions. These can come about from the personal biases of the individual analyst or from larger scale biases on the part of the organization to which they belong, but in all cases, it is a systemic issue that can cause large scale problems based on the garbage-in, garbage-out principle—if your assumptions about why an action was taken are incorrect, then your conclusions will also be incorrect.

The most common cognitive trap is that of ‘mirror imaging’—the assumption that the subject of the analysis thinks, considers, and acts in a manner much like that of the analyst themselves, thereby rendering their actions in the structure of “How would I act if I was in their place?” This particular trap is pernicious, as it can be hard to recognize unless confronted—and when it reaches the organizational level, it can be hard for individual analysts to challenge, as the conclusions, even if flawed, typically come from senior members of their organization who will be acknowledged experts.

But this trap is particularly dangerous, beyond how it can lead to incorrect conclusions, as it can cause an inexperienced analyst to view a dissenting viewpoint as a personal attack on themselves, which can result in them growing more attached to their own analysis in response. Such entrenched opinions, especially in a person of responsibility and decision-making power, can be catastrophic. Having the ability to bring in dissenting voices, especially from other backgrounds, can be helpful in combating this, but the analyst needs to hear those opinions and have the experience and necessary dispassion to be able to separate themselves and their personal egos from the structure of their work…

—Statecraft: The Great Game of Diplomacy, Espionage & War By Other Means, 1732, Rouen University Press

AO3 Chapter Link

~~~

My Original Fiction | Original Fiction Patreon

[tacky-jack-with-a-hat]

HC: States write a magazine

•Loui has a weekly recipes page solely for when people are too drunk to cook. Usually this will be ungodly creations Florida requested after they've been drinking.

•NY is a surprisingly positive Broadway and fashion critic. His intense knowledge of fashion, textiles, theatre history, acting methods, lighting and music still confuses the states sometimes.

•A puzzle page made by Hawaii, Mew Mexico and Puerto Rico but none of the answers are in English, purely for spite.

•Florida tried advertising his own vacations, but most of it had to be cut out bc the publisher didn't grasp the concept of Florida representing a state and thought it was weird that a guy was advertising himself as hot, wet and fun for all the family.

They made another advertisement using photos of Florida's map and landscapes which made him self-conscious because it's his "worst angle".

The publisher was last seen on Thursday and almost everyone blames Florida.

•Cali wrote a political piece about the dangers of climate change but it was cut because he spiralled into a rant about wealth disparity and capitalism. In the end it was longer than the magazine itself so they gave the politics column to Texas. Annoyed, Cali used his discarded work to publish his own book. He even bugged New York to make it a best seller.

•The most controversial page is the scandal column because no one knows who wrote it. The page will consist of one or two photos alongside some speculation of what's happening in the photos (mostly incorrect).

These photos include:

-Gov shredding documents. The description claimed the documents proved DC was a different person and Gov stole his identity. When the news broke Gov was quick to claim he was just committing tax fraud. The states found it more suspicious that he admitted tax fraud so quickly.

-Speculation between Nevada and Idaho after standing really close to each other in a funhouse. Nevada tried to play along with the narrative but Idaho found the original photo and proved it was just the reflection of the mirrors making them look closer... But it also proved Washington was holding Nevada and Idaho told the magazine. The next issue was titled "Washington/Oregon Out. Nevada/Everyone In."

-Utah smiling and giving the middle finger to his neighbours titled "mormon rampage" with accusations Utah was actually a jerk with anger issues. His son told him 🖕 meant good luck.

-A blurred image of Texas falling down the stairs with just the title "Fall's Coming Early For Texas"

-A photograph of Loui at a party without Florida when he was supposedly "too sick to hangout".

-A selfie of Florida pouring and burning Loui's daiquiris in "Revenge". In reality Florida split his own drink and messed with a sparkler because no one was supervising him.

-A photograph of Cali on fire because of Florida.

-A frame of security camera footage of Florida and Loui "hiding" in a closet. Turns out that's what they were doing to avoid punishment from Gov.

-A photo of Mass, NY and NJ bonding through "gardening" with the publisher's leg in their wheelbarrow. The states didn't care at that point because the source lost credibility.

Many of the states dislike the constant harassment and lack of privacy but it's unclear who is doing it. This has caused multiple fights but no one knows who could possibly be holding a camera around them all the time without them noticing...