#windows license code

[avtandilimakhatadze]

Microsoft Windows OEM Genuine Lifetime activation keys for 5$ | Reinstall supporter

Probably like everyone, I was looking for cheap ways to have the original genuine Windows on my computer, I searched many sites and offers and found the cheapest one, a key that will activate your device for the rest of its life. on the motherboard and constantly activates the device

I am sharing the link: https://todordigital.com/winpro

I own a computer store and have already purchased about 150 codes and all of them have been activated without any problems. Customer support is also excellent, I’ll share with you briefly..!

[cerealandchoccymilk]

Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1-2, Chapter #09

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I’m doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc.

The volume numbers will be mismatched for most of the remainder of Trigun, since the Japanese first edition is 3 volumes while all later versions are 2 volumes.

As always, here are the non-analysis panels:

And the rest is under the cut.

[link for if the images aren’t in horizontal rows]

To start off, we have Meryl talking about buying designer handbags. This part was very confusing in Japanese because even though I could recognize Prada, the two other brands she named were completely bogus to me. What the hell are エピピ(Epipi) and NCM!?

So I asked my mom about it last night (she knows a decent amount about brands popular in the 90's, since she was still living in Japan back then). She was also stumped for a bit, but after a while she asked to see the way "Prada" looked. She noticed that it was written like プラーダ(purāda) rather than the correct プラダ(purada). I didn't notice because I don't know shit about fashion... but she suggested that maybe all of these were slight variations on real-life brands. She said that NCM is probably based on MCM Worldwide.

Epipi probably took a solid 20 minutes to figure out.... We were naming every brand on earth searching for anything that could even vaguely sound like "epipi." Right when we nearly ran out of ideas, she thought of googling just part of the name, like "epi brand," and voila, apparently there's a line of Louis Vuitton leather called Epi.

Epipi (and brain soup) is an inside joke between us now btw.

The chapter cover!! Everyone here is so damn cute... also I'm sitting almost exactly how Vash is right now.

This is the second appearance of Vash's shades. I can't see the details, but the design looks the same as the one before.

I'd completely forgotten how tiny Kaito is??? Literally half of Vash's height.

Vash's response to Kaito's insult(?) is「お前そりゃないだろ…」and is something more like "C'mon, man..." or "Seriously?"

big eyes vash big eyes vash i want to scoop him up and put him in a jar with holes in the lid

It's so cool how Vash immediately understands exactly what's going on through what he's overhearing, thanks to his childhood on the spaceship and his time at Home. How can this man not drive

I think the engineer is talking about the Plant here, so it should be "The shock could kill it." (although the Plant dying would also kill everyone else. ykwim)

Didn't know that guy was called a helmsman.... In Japanese, the word for helmsman, 操舵手 (the scan is super blurry and looked like 士 but the correct word is 手) was written as ライツ(raitsu) with 操舵手 written in the ruby. Maybe raitsu was the name of the helmsman? Or it might be something else boat-related that I don't know about.

Vash's silent reaction to Kaito's words say a lot. This behavior is nearly identical to Vash's (again, more so in Maximum, after Vash remembers the events of July and gets even more depressed). He understands Kaito's pain and guilt, and worries for him, but he also can't help but see himself in the boy... however he feels about that. This gets a bit more into theory territory, but I think Vash doesn't want Kaito to turn out like himself. Of course, he wants everyone to strive for peace; he wants people to be like that part of himself, in that regard. However, he doesn't want people to act self-destructive like he is. One obvious reason is that Vash genuinely doesn't want Kaito to be hurt, especially when he believes that people always deserve to start over and live a happy life.... But another underlying reason could be that he doesn't like percieving parts of himself in others, out of self-hatred.

One of my favorite lines ever!!!!! (has 50 favorites)(its not my fault trigun/trimax is so constantly banger) While humans views the Plant as a tool and an incomprehensible being, Vash simply views them as just a girl that needs calming down—"people" just like him and everyone else. He has a familial relationship with every Plant, which I absolutely adore. And!!! I will expand on this bit in the next(I think) arc and beyond, or maybe even make a separate post!!! I have so many thoughts surrounding this and it's a core theme to Trigun as a whole.

Noting some SFX since some non-Japanese readers may not have noticed - the plant is making a high-pitched scream from here on. Also, Kaito says that it's a "voice," not a "sound."

More Plant object-person dichotomy!! This unfortunately gets lost in translation, but it's a very neat storytelling trick. In Japanese, This is written in an interesting way:「プラント――　それは『造りだす』もの」 with もの(mono) having dots above them (in this context acting like italicization for emphasis in English). Usually, this もの would be more specific. There's 物(mono) which means "object" or "thing," and there's 者(mono) which means "person" or sometimes "being." The narrator intentionally leaves the identity of the Plant vague. Again, in humans' eyes, Plants are machines of production. In Vash's eyes, Plants are full-fledged people.

I would write that line closer to the original format, with quotes around "creates" and leaving it at that.

A longer translation correction—just going to transcribe it here:

水 紫外線 酸素 そして微電力を与える事によって物理法則を超えた『生産』活動を行う生体システムである They are organic systems that, when fed water, ultraviolet light, oxygen, and a bit of electricity, can "produce" things in a process that surpasses all physical law.

The sound effect here is loud footsteps on metal. I think it's neat that Nightow showed Vash running up the stairs with just onomatopoea and a shot of the stairs.

In Japanese, Vash says that he's counting on/leaving the rest up to the engineers/the others on the ship, after telling them to deal with it.

Again, Vash considers the Plant his family, a sister. He is talking directly to them and treating them with respect. The word used here is actually 兄弟(kyoudai), which means "brother(s)"/olderbrother-youngerbrother, where in this situation with a brother and sister of unspecified age/order it would usually just be きょうだい(kyoudai, spelled out)... it may be that back then, people didn't really specify or mix-and-match sibling gender (姉弟 兄妹 etc) in writing as much as we do now.

The first appearance of feathers on Vash!! During my first read, I was absolutely mesmerized by this page. Mannnnnnn the angel imagery....

Also bonus reaction from my dear friend from my Instagram liveposting back in April (yeah. my first read was only a bit over 2 months ago). booty CRACK

This is the "beeeeeeep" sound of a flatlining heart monitor. Until now I thought it was more of an imaginary thing to show that their hearts have stopped, but I just realized that it may also be a real sound of the Plant's vital monitors. Could be either, to be honest.

Apparently "yards" are normal? In Japanese it's written as ヤ��ズ(yādzu, yards) instead of what would regularly be just ヤード(yādo, yard), so that may be the subtle miles-iles change?

This line would be "The pipes are stuck! They won't even budge!"

And the SFX here is a distant chattering and cheering crowd.

And here is the last scene, with Kaito humming Rem's favorite song. Idk, this just gives me a raw emotional reaction... I can't really analyze it lol. Rejoicing that you've survived through hardship. That while things still aren't perfect, this imminent danger has passed. That you still get to enjoy being alive. The same song of humanity still sang. Something something....

Anyways that’s it for Chapter #09! As always, the Japanese annotations are in the reblogs.

[abbiistabbii]

I don't think people realize how absolutely wild Linux is.

Here we have an Operating system that now has 100 different varieties, all of them with their own little features and markets that are also so customizable that you can literally choose what desktop environment you want. Alongside that it is the OS of choice for Supercomputers, most Web servers, and even tiny little toy computers that hackers and gadget makers use. It is the Operating System running on most of the world's smartphones. That's right. Android is a version of Linux.

It can run on literally anything up to and including a potato, and as of now desktop Linux Distros like Ubuntu and Mint are so easily to use and user friendly that technological novices can use them. This Operating system has had App stores since the 90s.

Oh, and what's more, this operating system was fuckin' built by volunteers and users alongside businesses and universities because they needed an all purpose operating system so they built one themselves and released it for free. If you know how to, you can add to this.

Oh, and it's founder wasn't some corporate hotshot. It's an introverted Swedish-speaking Finn who, while he was a student, started making his own Operating system after playing around with someone else's OS. He was going to call it Freax but the guy he got server space from named the folder of his project "Linux" (Linus Unix) and the name stuck. He operates this project from his Home office which is painted in a colour used in asylums. Man's so fucking introverted he developed the world's biggest code repo, Git, so he didn't have to deal with drama and email.

Steam adopted it meaning a LOT of games now natively run in Linux and what cannot be run natively can be adapted to run. It's now the OS used on their consoles (Steam Deck) and to this, a lot of people have found games run better on Linux than on Windows. More computers run Steam on Linux than MacOS.

On top of that the Arctic World Archive (basically the Svalbard Seed bank, but for Data) have this OS saved in their databanks so if the world ends the survivors are going to be using it.

On top of this? It's Free! No "Freemium" bullshit, no "pay to unlock" shit, no licenses, no tracking or data harvesting. If you have an old laptop that still works and a 16GB USB drive, you can go get it and install it and have a functioning computer because it uses less fucking resources than Windows. Got a shit PC? Linux Mint XFCE or Xubuntu is lightweight af. This shit is stopping eWaste.

What's more, it doesn't even scrimp on style. KDE, XFCE, Gnome, Cinnamon, all look pretty and are functional and there's even a load of people who try make their installs look pretty AF as a hobby called "ricing" with a subreddit (/r/unixporn) dedicated to it.

Linux is fucking wild.

[daughterwifed]

ROUTE 69 !

ft. di!leon kennedy x woc!reader

tags. piv, smut, cop!leon, ignorance/racism but not on purpose 😭, leon woc fetishiser, blowjob, public sex, car sex, creampie

notes. im scared 2 post this all I have to say is im a fat brown woman and um my belly fat is going to shield me from any backlash.. this fic was much worse and then I changed it to di leon and made it more of him being ignorant without realising n having a fetish. readers race/ethnicity isn’t specified but since im south asian i did write it w myself in head .. reading this back it’s very south asian actually wow. some bits r taken from my old n deleted fics if they sound familiar 😴 i’ve been writers blocked 4 months so this is clunky n disjointed,, feedback n rbs always appreciated :3 UNEDITED!!!!!!!!

You get pulled over beside a cornfield—Where Leatherface met Sally. 

Okay, sure, you were speeding, like, a little bit, but it’s not like there’s anyone to crash into, there’s no schools around here so no kid is going to wander into the road and splat against your windshield like a bug, and there’s no deers so you really don’t see the problem. This road is long and winding like an unfurled spool of silver ribbon, it’s scary, and the only source of light is the fucking moon, and while there’s probably only a 0.01% chance of something happening to you—This is Midwest America you’re talking about - land of the free, birthplace of literally every serial killer like ever.

They have it all here: killer clowns, rapists, somebody’s coworker, zodiac killers, night stalkers, mommy’s boys and cannibals. 

An entire carousel of freaks.

He’s just a cop, you tell yourself, some overweight, gun-slinging, bible-thumping degenerate that has to pick on generally polite and law-abiding women like me to feel good about himself. 

You press your face against the wheel and try not to think of Jason and Michael Myers and that terribly evil, big-nosed clown with his stupidly small top hat.

Tap, tap, tap. 

You don’t even look when you roll down the window, not until he sighs deeply and gives a pointed, “Ahem.” 

Don’t look at him wrong. Don’t smile at him wrong. Don’t even breathe wrong. Don’t give him a reason.

When you lift your head you're met with his crotch. It’s not exactly a sight for sore eyes, but it’s not exactly unwelcome—You can tell by those hands and those thighs and—well—that dick that you’ve got him all wrong. He’s not fat or ugly. He’s a hot gun-slinging, bible-thumping cop, and somehow that’s even worse. 

“Do you know how fast you were going—“ He adjusts his belt, probably shifts his dick from one side to the other side of his obscenely tight uniform before he bends down to peer into your window. “—ma’am?” 

Oh god. 

He’s like hot hot. 

Somewhere between retired underwear model and vintage pornstar hot. His eyes are the type of blue you'd like to dip your toes into, and his name badge says Kennedy. 

“Fast enough to get your attention?” You smile at him hopefully, sitting up straighter and shifting your body towards the window to show him your perfectly planted cleavage. 

Officer Kennedy seems to take that into consideration, nodding thoughtfully while he looks right down your work blouse and at the scalloped cups of your lucky lace bra. It’s always been there to get you out of a pinch—like that presentation today, if you hadn’t stood directly under that spotlight with that bra and that sheer blouse, you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be getting a promotion and such a glowing recommendation. 

When he’s done checking you out, Officer Kennedy asks for your license and registration, you rifle around in the glove compartment and pretend not to notice a pack of condoms falling to the ground. 

He leans forward, peering through the open window, yoi catch sight of the ID clipped to his shirt. “Think we might have a code M&M on our hands,” Officer Leon Kennedy says. 

“A what?” You dig out your insurance papers and hand them over, fingers trembling when you go to get your license from your card wallet—You haven’t done anything bad, you went over the speed limit, it’s not like you’re lying about your papers, it’s not like you have a body in the trunk—It’s just the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s speaking to you. 

“Y’know, Mexican or Muslim—Aw, don’t look at me like that, it’s just a joke, don’t make me feel bad about a joke.” He clicks his tongue like he’s embarrassed. “I’m not like that,” Leon continues as he squints at your license, “I don’t have a problem with anyone or anything, it’s just how we talk down at the station.”

You just blink at him. What are you even meant to say to that? 

“Tough crowd.” He shrugs and hands everything back to you, for just a moment you think you might be able to get away with a slap on the wrist, but you don’t go to his church, you don’t sound like him, you don’t wave around little flags on the Fourth of July, you’ve never even had a casserole, and you most certainly don’t look like anyone he would call a friend. “Here ya go.” He sticks his hand through the window, waving around a fine.

“I can’t pay that,” you blurt out, and you want to be smart and tell him that you know speeding doesn’t cost that much, he could just give you a point on your license and it would all be fine and dandy, but you’re panicking. 

“Didn’t think so.” Leon gives you a pointed look—Like, like he planned this, like he’s setting you up, and he is, he so is—You’re tired and upset and wary about the gun he’s wielding on that belt. “You know,” he sighs, glances at your strategically unbuttoned shirt, “there’s something else you could do for me.” 

Okay, this is good, it sounds more like the start of a bad porno than a horror movie and you’re alright with that. You can do porn, you can take dicks, but you can’t take chainsaws or hooks or needles or anything of the sort. 

To be coy, you blink at him slowly, tears beading your lashes like morning dew. “I have a boyfriend, Officer.” 

“Ah…” Leon seems to take it seriously, like abusing authority is fine as long as a woman’s single—but the moment she’s taken? He’s got morals. “Arranged marriage, huh?”

You blink at him. Again. And again. And again. 

“No…” You say slowly—Oh, what the hell. “Yeah, forced marriage, it’s a whole thing, if I don’t make it back tonight I'm in for a beating—That’s why I was speeding actually, officer, I just want to get home before it’s too late.”

“Damn shame.” Leon shakes his head, the gravel crunching under his boots as he shifts. “Treating a pretty girl like that…Nice skin, pretty hair, big eyes—That’s just not right.” 

So he’s like that - the type to call you a princess in bed and a terrorist at the airport, the type to fuck you and let you know that his buddies can’t find out about this, he doesn’t change the radio station when a rap song comes on when he drops you two blocks away from your house. 

“Listen, sweetheart, you seem like a good girl, girls like you, they're good in school, study hard, doctors, lawyers, all that stuff—“ He makes a vague hand gesture that is neither here nor there. “—So I don’t wanna give you a ticket or a court date, but, uh, that doesn’t come for free.” 

“I understand, officer.” You bat your lashes at him, biting back a smile. This isn’t so bad, you got a promotion and now you’re getting laid. There’s no axe murderers or rapists in sight, just a cop with his dick in the right place. 

“Good girl.” He nods, pleased, and then he switches off his radio. “So, you do that for that prick at home or me?” Leon’s eyes drift to your cleavage, to your thighs in that short skirt, it keeps riding up the more you squirm in your seat. 

“I like uniforms,” you tell him innocently, “can’t help it.”

Leon laughs, slow and knowing. “I bet you do.” His fingers brush his belt, not to reach for his gun, but to unbutton them. You poke your head a little further out the window, his hand finds the back of your head, guiding you to his dick. His gun-slinging, bible-thumping dick that you fully intend to put in your mouth - you’ve made your bed and now you're kneeling in it. “I don’t have a breathalyser with me, so this’ll do.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as your warm mouth closes in on the tip, he’s big, but not in the way that makes your jaw ache—If he wanted to do that he’d find better luck shoving a gun in your mouth. 

“Fuck, wait.” He lets out a soft grunt and pulls his cock from your mouth, smudges of red lipstick and strings of spit keeping his tip and your lips together.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him, heart thumping out of your chest—Did he change his mind? Did he have, like, an epiphany? Was it bad? Oh god, what if someone saw you? What if there really is a murderer out here and everybody knows they always go for you when you’re fucking—

Leon opens the back door—You were worried about murderers and hillbillies but your doors weren’t even locked. “Get in the back.” 

“Oh.” You let out a breath of relief, climbing over the handbrake and losing a heel on the way over to meet him. He braces an arm against the roof of your car as you kiss the tip off his cock, letting dribbles of pre wet your lips. 

“Fuck,” Leon groans, one hand rests atop your head, “you’re trouble, I should’ve cuffed you.” 

“I would’ve liked it,” you mumble around a mouthful of fat cock, you should be ashamed of soaking through your poor thong, but you’re not. That ticket would feel a hundred times worse than a sore throat. 

“Speak English.” He gives you this cheeky smile when you let out a noise of surprise, but you’re too concerned with taking him deep in your throat to start an argument—So he gets away with it like he has a million times before. If it were any other day you'd give him a piece of your mind. Really, you would. Honest. Once his tip knocks the back of your throat, you start speaking his language, gagging wetly as you swallow around him, one hand trailing down to grasp his heavy balls. You feel him pulse, and he curses under his breath. “That got you going, huh?” He snorts, amused and all sorts of turned on.

When you pull off with a pop, you go straight to licking up the seam of his balls. “You having fun down there, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” It’s muffled as you take one into your mouth and then the other, you like to play with your food, and sucking up (read: off) took you so far in school. 

“C’mon, enough of that,” Leon hums, pushing you off gently like you’re a kitten clawing at the hem of his trousers. You go to whine and then wonder what your parents would think of this and zip your mouth shut. Your grandmother came to America for what? For this? For you to let any old pig put his dick in your guts? Whatever. Whatever. He’s a hot pig. He’s like the cutest guy you’ll find for miles, and you’ve already gone to college, you’ve got a good job, why can’t you indulge? “Scooch over.”

You shuffle back, skirt hiking up your thighs until it’s more of a belt, he wedges himself between your thighs—Your legs dangle out the door, and you're still worried something or someone is going to come out of the cornfield waving around a scythe and cut up both your bodies like a canvas, but you’re wet and he’s on top of you and there’s no going back now.

“Wait—Keep it on,” you gasp softly as he lifts the hem of his uniform shirt.

“Why? You like it?” He asks, blinking at you with those big blue eyes, they’re clear like a summer afternoon. 

Obviously. 

“I dunno…I kinda like it, feels wrong.” You take his hand in yours once he drops the bunched up fabric, bringing it to feel how wet you’ve gotten. 

“What? The badge? The uniform?” He looks smug, like you're some kinky act of rebellion for him—Well, you don’t really have the right to speak on things like that. 

“The gun,” you say softly, flashing him your sweetest smile. 

“You're dirty,” he tells you with a groan, lining up his cock with your soft cunt, dragging the fat head up and down your folds, letting it brush over your throbbing clit just to see you writhe. 

“Hurry,” you whine, digging your nails into his biceps, you want him to split you straight down the middle. “Wait—Are you married?” 

“Does it matter?” Leon asks before he pushes in with one single glide, you're so wet there’s no resistance, just the slight stretch of a pleasantly big dick, tip nudging your cervix. 

“Oh my god.” You drag your nails down his back, legs going rigid as pleasure prickles your spine. “I was just—just wondering.” You bet there’s someone. Blonde, short, small, the kind he can bring home with no judgement. 

“Probably should’ve asked before you sucked my dick.” Leon huffs out a breath as he shifts his hips, angling deeper, making you sniffle as he drops his sweaty forehead to press against yours. He’s so deep you feel him everywhere, you can’t escape him and you don’t want to. 

His cock drags in and out of your slick cunt, one of his hands is by your head and the other settles on your tummy, trailing down until he finds your swollen clit. The pad of his thumb rolls over the soft bud as he fucks into you, pussy clicking wetly with each sharp thrust. 

If you had any dignity left, if you weren’t twenty seconds away from gushing all over him, you'd probably be embarrassed by the noise. The wet squelch each time he bottoms out, the smack of his balls on your ass, the way you’re whining like a fucking, boot-licking idiot. 

“Wait—Wait, I can’t—“ You push at his abdomen, wanting him to ease up as you feel the pressure build deep in your gut, there’s no time to feel guilty when it feels so fucking good, when your cunt tightens and he presses down on your clit and your poor Honda Civic—She’s been subjected to a lot tonight. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon cups your cheek, his hand is softer and smaller than you expected, gentler than the one that’s pinching your clit and making you sob into your fist. “Go on, good girl.” 

You think you black out when it happens, and you don’t know why. It was good, sure, but it wasn’t, like, deserving of a pornstar reaction, and you just gave that—Boosted his already huge ego, made a fool out of yourself, disappointed whoever in your line of ancestors decided the shift to America was a good idea. 

“You do that for your husband?” His voice is strained, his thrusts are sloppy, his mouth is hanging open as he ruts into your messy cunt. 

“I don’t actually have—It’s the uniform.” You think about the box of condoms on the floor and hook your legs around him, digging one kitten heel and one regular human heel into his ass to keep him from running away. 

Leon’s eyes go wide, he opens his mouth to protest, and then you squeeze his dick so tight it empties his brain and his balls. He even looks good when he cums. Adam’s apple bobbing, lips parted, a perfectly timed rivulet of sweat drips down his temple as he fills you up. 

The quiet after all of it is said and done kind of makes you wish you did hear a chainsaw revving somewhere in the distance. He buckles his belt as you pull your thong back into place, dried cum sticking to your thighs, dripping onto your poor old car. You have driven a million relatives back and forth in this little thing, you take your mom to the doctors and your grandma to the grocers and now she’s ruined. 

His radio is switched back on, you find both your shoes and place them on the passenger seat. You can’t drive in this state, not when your legs are wobbling so bad you wouldn’t be able to step on the brakes. Maybe that’s what you need to do. Drive head first into a wall. 

“I can drive you home,” Leon offers after he watches you stare at the windshield blankly, “Can get somebody to bring your car over in the morning.”

You accept and wonder who he voted for as he drives. His pinned radio stations are all some sort of rock, but there’s no country and that makes you feel a little better. 

He grabs your wrist before you get out, all blue-eyed and earnest. “I hope…I hope I didn’t get you into trouble with your folks, I know how they get, your people, I don’t want, uh, anything to happen to you.” 

You look at your house. All the lights are off. There’s not a single car parked in the drive. There’s nothing because you live with no one but yourself. You thought cops were meant to have deductive skills. 

“And if your husband gives you any trouble, you can call me, for real this time—Not, not for that, but for help,” he finishes clumsily, like he didn’t raw you in the middle of an open road while he was on fucking duty.

“I don’t have…” You look at him, like really hard, remnants of red lipstick on the collar of his blue uniform, his seed staining your panties white. “I’ll tell you if he gives me any trouble,” you say, only because you know he needs a reason to come and see you, he couldn't be casual with somebody like you. He’s going to knock on your door with a warrant just so he can fuck you into your mattress. 

“Okay.” He nods, lips twitching into a smile. “I’ll bring the handcuffs next time.”

I’ll bring a fucking veil next time so I can hang you or myself, maybe an anklet or two if you’re into that officer.

You fix a smile onto your face. “Goodnight, Officer.”

[heartsforfolklore]

scrolling through Pinterest and found the most pre-crash nat core pic of Sophie to exist so now I’m gonna do dating hcs except it’s just me projecting….

sorry

— This pic would be taken by you, her lovely gf, on your your Polaroid or some other camera idk, and that is YOUR CAT in her lap mhm yup yup

— mostly would hang out at your place bc… well yes! she doesn’t want to deal with Vera

— so basically, your room is her safe space. She’ll sneak into your room, maybe climb the tree by your window or throw pebbles at your window till you open up idk

— she has a drawer/closet space in your room

— you are her opposite (this is me projecting btw) like she’s punk, a riot grrrl, kinda snobby when it comes to alt music and culture and you’re like… soft(er) like, Mazzy Star, The Cocteau Twins, Jeff Buckley, The cranberries, The Sunday’s—dreamy/dreamlike music, you read Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, and Dostoevsky, you’re snobby with literature—prob in AP Lit too, (projecting again, sorry) and… she hasn’t touched a book since freshman year LMAO

— you started talking bc you’re a fucking loser loner in PE (haha me) and she’s low-key like Cookie Monster pajama pants girl coded or like the random alt baddie who also doesn’t want to try in PE and like adopts the strays. But like… she’s really athletic so you don’t know why she doesn’t try in PE. Says she’s saving her energy for soccer (it’s like… November, Soccer doesn’t start till the Spring babes..)

— FEMINISTS YUP YUP YUP, ranting about the gender pay gap and the sexist pigs at WHS, (lowkey misandrists but that’s another topic..)

— and if I say bi4bi couple then what? You can both appreciate beauty when you see it.

— she gets you into Hole and Courtney Love

— IF you’re on the soccer team too, you drive her home from practice (and to school, and… like everywhere)

— passenger princess Nat you are real to me. That bitch does NOT have her license 😭

— you mistakenly take her kleptomaniac ass to the mall… she doesn’t get caught but you’re flabbergasted when she pulls out three eyeliner pencils from her bra cause she “ran out”

— makes fun of you the first time you get high together. See, she’s a seasoned professional… you’re not, the most you’ve done is smoked a cigarette because you thought it made you more “mysterious” or like you just came out of an old film noir

— you do the thing where you press the lit ends of the cigarette together to light the other (huzz idk I’ve never smoked but it’s what Stein and Spirit do in Soul Eater 💀)

— cannot hold a job to save her life, and you keep telling her to apply to Hot Topic or Spencer’s but she thinks it’s too cliche

— so basically you have to sugar mama her till she actually gets a job

— she comes over to your house to watch SNL with you and your family, who welcome her like a second (or third, or fourth, or however many siblings you have idk, I’m projecting again) daughter (they don’t know you’re together) and she riffs with your dad and it EMBARRASSES YOU SO BAD.

— you become her rock, it’ll take a while for her to completely open up to you but when you do, know that she intends to keep you around for a long time because she wouldn’t just spill her guts like that to anyone

— she kisses like it’s a sport, sometimes it’s soft and sweet, but not often. Most of the time she’ll just grab your face and kiss your lights out—it’s agressive at the same time as it’s playful. Like, she gets cuteness agression and she just wants to squeeze your cheeks and kiss your puckered lips. SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!!!

— “I’m boredddd” final boss, and maybe it’s unchecked ADHD

— you’re both sat, front row, when The Craft comes out (May 3rd, 1996, trust, you two will be there.)

— furthering the Van and Nat childhood bsfs agenda: they still hang out and Van is the only person she’s told about her sexuality and relationship.

— she was really nervous to kiss you for the first time, like yeah, she’s kissed and gotten cozy with people before but, this was you, and she actually gives a shit about you, because you aren’t just a distraction

— let’s you write your name on her converse

— making zines with each other and cutting up magazines and old newspapers to make the fonts/letters with ransom letters

— back to the mall, you have so many photo booth photos with her, are half of them you guys kissing or her biting your cheek? Well, yes. But who cares, nobody is seeing them but you two.

— on the same note, you use the photo booth as an excuse to make out

— you guys probably got your freak on to Fade into you

— during the fall, you guys go to the Football (American football btw) games to heckle and boo at the players and probably get kicked out of the stands so you guys end up at some shitty fast food place near by

— hitting up the grimiest thrift stores, flipping through racks while Natalie criticizes every basic band tee. She makes fun of you for buying a floral slip dress, then stares way too long when you try it on. (can’t stop staring at her t-t-t-face)

— doesn’t out-right say “I love you” often but has many ways she shows she does; memorizing the lyrics to your favorite songs, getting your favorite drink from the vending machine, eye contact while she kisses the back of your hand/your knuckles. Deffo an “actions speak louder than words” kinda girl.

— she thinks you’re too good for her & often needs reassurance. One of her love languages is words of affirmation.

— historians will say you two are just best friends! It’s the 90s in some no-name town in New Jersey, so things are kept under wraps…

— if you’re a poet, she’s your muse. If she’s a musician (nat band!au??) you’re her muse.

— calls you “pretty” like it’s your name; pretty girl, pretty thing, pretty baby, “hey, pretty” IM SCREAMING!!!! That, or Angel, or My Girl

— call her “my girl” and she’ll melt. She prefers just Nat from you, but doesn’t mind “babe” or “baby” from time to time

— “I don’t believe in god, but I believe that you’re my savior” yeah, shout out Gigi Perez

— will pull you into a bathroom stall during passing period just to kiss you, then will walk out like nothing happened, leaving you stunned

— kiss her scars

— doing her makeup, her painting your nails or her dressing you in her clothes and vice versa

— date nights at shitty fast food places (Taco Bell, White Castle, Checkers, etc.) or drive in movies(lowk greaser!nat vibes w this one..)

— you either help her do her homework or just do it for her, no in between. It’s not that she’s not smart, she just doesn’t try

———⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

sorry if these are bad, like, holy yap fest on my part

[mrssabinecallas]

Catching Up || Tim Bradford

pairing: tim bradford / formermilitary!fem!reader

in which tim runs into an old soldier he used to know in the bustling city of los angeles.

*guys i tried to hard to not use y/n or y/l/n but im sorry it had to be done :(*

cw! intended lowercase, not proofread, fluff, mentions of abuse and cheating, hints of smut of you squint towards the end :)

gif not mine, creds to owner above!

it had been 15 years since tim bradford had made his decision to retire from active duty in the army. shortly after he made that decision, he regretted it. becoming a cop? boy, was he stupid, it would never work out. now, 15 years later, he likes where he ended up. 12 years as a TO, and a bit of being a sergeant under his belt, he could’ve never predicted this is where he would be in the LAPD.

it was another day out on patrol, lucy chen sitting in the passenger seat of his shop, chattier than ever. tim just wanted the quiet, but he knows how she is. she won’t shut up for anything.

“so- anyways. we get to the restaurant, and he told me he had a reservation. turns out he lied, and the wait was over an hour. literally, the worst first date i think i’ve ever been on,” lucy rambled on, and tim added his two cents every now and then. it was a surprisingly quiet morning, very few calls coming in, and other units would attatch before he could. so, he resorted to traffic stops to try and make time go a little faster.

in this particular traffic stop, he pulled over a man for running two stop signs. when running his license, tim found out he was flagged as a suspect in a few armed robberies in the last few weeks. he decided to take a peak through the windows, seeing if he could spot anything to make the morning more interesting.

as he leaned back to hand the driver his license and registration, he saw two guns lying in the backseat floorboard. not very well hidden, he thought.

“sir, do you have a license to carry those firearms?”

“what firearms? i don’t have anything.”

“uh-huh. sure. and i’m a property brother. now, ill ask again, do you have a permit to carry the two weapons in your backseat?”

before the man responded, he looked over at lucy, standing on the passenger side, and slammed on his gas pedal. tim cursed under his breath as he took off back to the shop, and sped after the driver.

“07-adam-19, we are code 3, on road pursuit of a suspect of a few armed robberies, he is armed. gray sedan, driving 55 on melrose. requesting backup and airship.” he commands over the shop’s radio.

following the driver, he loses sight of the sedan in the traffic of lunch rush. “shit.”

“there!” lucy, quiet as she’s been all morning, pipes up and points to the vehicle turning onto a one-way road downtown.

“he’s driving against traffic on a one-way, is he trying to get killed?” tim questions, following in close pursuit.

“maybe he thinks we won’t follow him down a one way?” lucy chimes in.

before tim can manage to respond, they watch the gray sedan crash head on into a semi. glass shatters everywhere, the car seemingly crushing on impact. tim quickly parks the shop, and they run over to the accident, checking on the man inside.

“sir- sir are you alright?” lucy asked, concerned. in response, the man groans.

“well, he’s alive. let’s assess injuries and take him in.”

they pull the man out of the car, scanning for injuries, but surprisingly the man is barely hurt. lucy heads over to the semi to talk to the driver, while tim cuffs the owner of the sedan and guides him into the shop. the ride back to the station was quiet, filled with the occasional radio chatter.

“a property brother, huh?” lucy teases.

“i think i would be a hell of a property brother.”

“i mean, you look the part. you’re just to grumpy to be on tv.”

tim just sighs. as they pull back into the station, tim takes the suspect in for processing while lucy takes the guns found in the car to evidence. as tim is processing and prepping the paperwork, he sees a face he hasn’t seen in a very long time.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

it had been 8 years since you made the decision to retire from active duty in the navy. shortly after you made that decision, you decided it was the best decision you had ever made. going back to school, getting a degree to help better the world and the people in it. not to mention your divorce. that had quite an impact on your decision.

you saw first hand the mental toll that special forces, well, military life in general had on people that decided to join. this included yourself, close to your breaking point with the physical and mental demands of special ops. you decided to use your GI bill to go back to school and get your psychology degree, trying to help those who struggled as you did.

now, 8 years later, you had been a successful therapist and mental health counselor in los angeles. it was a change of pace from the constant, bustling military life you had gotten used to, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. getting to hear all kinds of stories from all kinds of people was the highlight of your career.

a few weeks ago, you received word that the mid-wilshire police department contacted you about a new task force: criminal psychology and recovery. after some back and fourth, you had a meeting with sergeant grey and the union rep, officer nolan, set for this morning.

walking into the alive station was caffeine to your veins. it reminded you of being on-duty, reliving your life on base or on a ship. walking up to the front desk, you politely let the officer know you’re here to meet with grey.

after a few minutes, a stoic man shakes your hand and introduces himself as sergeant wade grey. formal introductions are made as he leads you back to his office, handing you a visitor pass.

“please, take a seat. officer nolan should be here any minute, can i get you anything?”

“i’m alright, thank you sergeant.”

“please, call me wade. now, i understand you were in the military? what happened there, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“of course! i was in the navy, worked special ops. after a few years, i saw and felt how taxing it was for myself and fellow sailors, so i decided to do something about it. got my degree in psychology, and started working mental health counseling.” you explained to wade, animatedly moving your hands.

“interesting. what kind of work did you do in special ops?”

before you could respond, an older man walks in. “sorry i’m late, got caught up in processing. ms y/l/n, nice to finally meet you! i’m officer john nolan, and im looking forward to what you have in mind for this new project.”

the three of you go back and fourth for roughly an hour, talking specifics of the program and nailing down a solid plan. you jot down notes on your phone, and before you know it, you’re set to head an LAPD task force in two weeks.

standing, you shake sergeant grey and officer nolan’s hands, as they begin to walk you out. from behind, you hear a somewhat familiar voice ring out.

“y/l/n?”

you turn, facing the sound.

“bradford?”

you’re both shocked to see each other, standing in silence for just a moment before he approaches you for a hug.

“it’s been a while! since when were you in LA?” he questioned, a small smile shining through his grumpy work persona.

“a few years now, actually! started mental health counseling around here about four years ago,” you explained, while nolan and grey just look at each other and back to you and bradford.

“wait, bradford you know ms. y/l/n?” john questions, trying and failing to piece it together without an explaination.

“yeah. we, uh, worked a few operations together back in my army days. this girl is hell of a leader, i’ll tell you that. she led an ops team of army, navy, and marines into a huge crack in enemy territory. gave us the upper hand in a ton of future fights.” tim compliments, focusing on you.

“oh please, i led my people, you led yours. don’t give me all the credit bradford.” you laugh. you forgot how easy it was to be around him and banter.

“yeah yeah. well, i do have to head back, gotta process this S.O.B. so we can hit the streets again. hey, why don’t we catch up? grab drinks, on me?”

“sounds like a plan, what time do you get off?”

“8:00.” you open your phone calendar to add “drinks with tim” into the 8:00 spot, and slide the device back into your pocket.

“well as lovely as this has been, i have a lot of work to do, yknow, setting up a new program and all. officer nolan, sergeant grey, lovely to meet both of you, and ill stay in contact. tim, ill see you tonight!” you wave as you walk away.

the rest of the day seems to fly, contacting some of your colleagues to aid you in this new project. tim seems to feel the same, arresting a few people and filling out paperwork. by the time 8 pm rolls around, you find yourself texting tim.

Tim

———

-hey, where we headed for drinks?

there’s a bar down the street from the station, meet me there? -

-perfect, i’ll be there in 10 :)

you smile and shift your car into drive, enjoying the peaceful california evening. after a few minutes, you push open the door to a small bar called “the hard road bar.” glancing around, you spot tim in a booth against the wall.

sliding yourself into the seat across from him, you exchange your hellos, as a waitress comes up to ask for your drink orders. tim gets a whiskey neat and you order two shots of tequila.

“so, mental health counseling, huh?” tim questions as the waitress walks away.

“yeah! special ops is draining, and i saw how bad it affected people. so i wanted to help.” you give him the brief explanation, and bounce a question back onto him. “how’s police work going? last time we talked was, what, 9 years ago? you were barely touching the surface of your job now.”

“it’s good! i enjoy it. keeps me busy, i get to protect people, and teach the next generation of officers. it’s hard a lot of days, but seeing that people are being helped and trouble is taken off the streets makes it worth it. oh! how’s shawn?” he ricochets back.

you pause. you weren’t expecting him to ask about your ex-husband. tim seems to notice your hesitation. “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to-“

“-no! no, it’s okay. uh, shawn and i got a divorce 8 years ago. part of the reason i retired, i needed to get the hell away from him.”

“woah, what’s the story there?” he questions, as the waitress sets down your drinks, and he picks up his glass.

“to make an overwhelmingly long story short, shawn cheated, i found out and filed for divorce. he did not make the process easy, but a few bruises and court dates later, i’m free.” you pick up one of the shot glasses, throwing it back as the liquor burns your chest.

“damn, he cheated? on you? and- what do you mean bruises?” he questions as he lifts his glass to his lips.

“well… when i found out he was cheating, he tried to manipulate me into staying. when that didn’t work, he resorted to… violence. but it’s fine now. he’s in prison for domestic assault charges, and i have his money. so it’s great!”

tim laughs at your last statement, but his expression softens into one of concern. “are you alright, though? i never knew he was the kind of guy to do something like that.”

“yeah, i’m good. whenever he gets out, my lawyer already has the restraining order ready to go. so he won’t be an issue. oh! how’s isabel?”

“ah- my turn for the awkward long story short. we got divorced a few years ago too. she started using and got hooked, i lost contact with her for two years before i could get her into rehab. i broke it off from there,” tim explained, waving his free hand around gently and holding eye contact.

“oh! yknow, out of all things, i never expected that. well, cheers to us being in the same boat, yeah?” you hold up your other shot towards him, and he clinks his glass against yours. as the night drawls on, more drinks and added to the tab, and eventually you both decide to call it quits. drunkenly, but still, call it a night.

as you’re walking next to tim out to your cars, you check your phone and read “1:27 am. damn. that was a lot more time than i thought,” you hiccuped, and looked back up at tim’s face. has he always been that attractive?

“yea’, it definitely was. we sh’uld do ‘t again sometime.” tim’s words slurred, as he leaned closer to you to pull you into a hug.

you leaned into him, and relaxed into his body heat. he smelled nice, like fresh rain and forest. you let your melt under his touch, and you just want to stay there forever.

tim eventually pulls away, but keeps a firm hold on your shoulders. you look up at him, wondering where these sudden thoughts are coming from. he makes eye contact, and his lips part slightly. your eyes snap to this small movement, and you can’t help but wonder how nice of a kisser he would be.

he notices the shifting of your eyes, and before he knows it, his lips are on yours, eyes closed, breathing in your presence. your floral perfume, the fabric of your blouse, the hand he feels caress his face. he wants more of it. he slides his hands from your shoulders to your lower back, and lightly pull you closer.

he suddenly pulls away, panting slightly, and looks back over at his truck. “yknow what, fuck it. wanna keep this going?”

“you know i do, bradford. you know i do.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

ahh!! i wrote this at 3 am bc i love tim bradford and i need this thought out of my head.

yes, i did do army navy for a reason, go navy, beat army, hooyah, bite me! i had to squeeze it in there!!

let me know if y’all want a part 2!!! i’m more than happy to oblige ;)

[j23r23]

Getaway Heart

Tangerine x Reader - angst & fluff

Warnings: blood & vomit

You’ve been a getaway driver since you got your license at 18, maneuvering through the streets with audacity and precision that caught the eye of all the right, and wrong, people. For the past ten years, you worked alone in the shadows, carving out a reputation as the go-to driver for high-stake jobs.

On a rainy evening, the twins handler, a no-nonsense woman with a penchant for dark sunglasses and cryptic instructions, invited you to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Madrid. The place smelled of oil and rubber. There she introduced you to the two men known only by their code names: Tangerine and Lemon. They were looking for a reliable driver, and their handler thought you fit the bill. You knew the Fruits were renowned in the industry for being very good at what they do but were slightly unhinged.

Tangerine was the first to step forward. He was tall and lean, with a sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes that seemed to dissect you with a single glance. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that contrasted starkly with the grime of the warehouse, he exuded an air of sophistication and control. His voice was smooth, almost velvety, “So, you’re the driver everyone’s talking about,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

Lemon, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Shorter and more muscular, he had a rugged look about him, with bleached hair and an unpredictable glare. His attire was casual— black jeans and a denim jacket—giving off a more approachable vibe. In his hand, he toyed with a small sticker book, flicking it absentmindedly as he watched you.

The initial meeting didn’t go smoothly. Tangerine’s aloof demeanor and Lemon’s staring put you on edge. Tangerine scrutinized your every word and movement, as if searching for a weakness, while Lemon tested your patience with his relentless talk about trains.

“Look, love” Tangerine finally said, crossing his arms, “we don’t have time for screw-ups. We need someone who can handle the heat and think on their feet. Can you do that?”

You met his gaze, your jaw set in determination. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know that hesitation can get you killed. I can handle the heat. Question is, can you keep up? Oh, and the names Orange, love.”

There was a moment of silence before Lemon burst into laughter. “I like this one,” he said, clapping Tangerine on the shoulder. “Got some fire in her.”

Tangerine’s lips curled into a faint smile, the first sign of approval. “Alright Orange,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The memory made you grin.

Right after meeting the twins you had your first job together and it was utter chaos—shit hit the fan, sirens blaring, guns a blazing and the scent of burnt rubber hanging heavy in the air. You were behind the wheel, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you navigated the streets of Madrid with precision.

"Tangerine, we've got company!" Lemon's tone was annoyed.

Tangerine, cool and collected, leaned out of the window, firing off shots with deadly accuracy. "I can see that, Lemon! Im not blind!"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, as the banter between the twins was getting on your nerves. "Would you two save the chatter for later? I'm trying to concentrate here!"

Lemon laughed. "Relax, Orange, we've got this under control."

You just sighed in annoyance and literally put your foot down, pushing the pedal to the metal.

Tangerine, sitting in the seat behind you, clung to the door handle, as hes being pushed back by the force of the speeding car. "Bloody hell, Orange? " he shouted, his voice a mix of panic and irritation.

Lemon, in the backseat, looked even worse. His face was pale, and he was gripping the headrest in front of him for dear life. "For the love of all that's holy, slow down!”

You smirked, your eyes darting between the road and the rearview mirror. "Relax, boys. Let me do my job and i let you do yours" you said, narrowly missing a pedestrian who decided now was the perfect time to jaywalk.

"Relax? Relax?!" Tangerine's voice went up an octave. "We’ve got the entire Mafia of Madrid after us, how in hell am i supposed to work when you’re driving like a maniac!"

You took a sharp turn, the tires screeching in protest. The car tilted dangerously, but you managed to keep it from flipping. Lemon made a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl. "If we die, I’m haunting your ass!"

"Hold on to something!" you yelled, spotting a narrow alleyway ahead. Without hesitation, you swerved into it, the car barely fitting between the buildings. The side mirrors scraped against the brick walls, sending sparks flying.

Tangerine’s knuckles were white from gripping the door handle. "Jesus Christ, woman!"

You chuckled, adrenaline pumping through your veins. "I got hired for my driving skills, remember?"

Lemon let out a strangled laugh. "Skills? More like suicidal tendencies!"

As you burst out of the alley and back onto a busy street, a car tried to cut you off. With a quick flick of the wheel, you sideswiped it, sending it crashing into a parked truck. "One down, a few dozen to go," you quipped, glancing at your handiwork in the mirror.

"Just keep us in one piece!" Tangerine barked, looking both impressed and terrified.

You sped towards an upcoming construction site, an idea forming in your mind. "Hold tight," you warned, accelerating even more.

"Oh hell no!" Lemon groaned, clearly dreading your next move.

You aimed for a ramp leading up to a half-built overpass. As the car launched into the air, all three of you screamed—though in your case, it was more of a whoop of excitement. The car soared over the gap, landing with a bone-jarring thud on the other side. The cars that are chasing you weren’t so lucky; the first few smashed into the gap, creating a massive pileup.

Tangerine looked at you with wide eyes, his breath coming in short gasps. "You’re absolutely mad, you know that?"

Lemon, still clutching the headrest, nodded fervently. "Completely off your rocker."

You gave them a cheeky grin. "But i got rid of them, no?"

As the car sped away from the chaos behind, Tangerines eyes still held a hint of disbelief. "You’re a bloody lunatic!"

Lemon slumped back in his seat, finally letting go of the headrest. "Next time, I’m driving."

You laughed, the thrill of the chase still coursing through you. "Sure."

After a few more sharp turns you finally pull into a secluded garage. You killed the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the chaos.

"You two okay back there?" you had asked, trying to suppress a smirk.

Lemon had groaned, his face pale as a sheet. "I think I'm gonna be sick, now that we stopped," he had mumbled, clutching his stomach.

Tangerine had shot him a glare before leaning out of the window, retching onto the pavement. "Yeah, and somehow we made it out alive!” he had grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You turn in your seat looking at the boys smiling. Tangerine shook his head, laughing despite himself. “But remind me never to question your driving skills again.”

“Deal” you replied with a grin.

After that night, the three of you went through countless jobs together, facing danger with unwavering trust in one another. As time passed, your feelings toward Tangerine began to change. Working alongside him, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the way your heart fluttered whenever he flashed a rare smile or the way your pulse quickened at his touch.

The more jobs you pulled, the deeper your affection for him grew, and the harder it became to suppress your emotions.

And now, something feels off. As you sit in the driver's seat of your idling car, the engine's purr does little to calm your anxious nerves. The night is heavy with tension, the rearview mirror becoming your only solace. You glance back repeatedly, your mind racing through every possible outcome of tonight's job.

Tonight's mission was supposed to be a straightforward smash and grab. The target: a high-end jewelry store fronting as a money laundering operation for one of the city's major crime syndicates in London. Intelligence indicated minimal security—just a couple of guards, easily neutralized. Tangerine and Lemon were tasked with infiltrating, grabbing the goods, and getting out before anyone noticed. Simple, clean, efficient.

You were parked in the back alley of the building, engine running, ready for the signal. The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an hour. Something gnawed at your gut, a premonition that things weren't going according to plan. You'd run through every escape route, every contingency, but no amount of planning could shake the unease that had settled over you.

The longer you waited, the more your thoughts drifted back to Tangerine. His smile, his confidence, the way he always seemed to know what to say to calm you down. You remember the first time he took a bullet for you. He had laughed it off, calling you a softie for worrying. That was Tangerine—fearless, almost reckless, but with a heart that beat fiercely for those he cared about.

You trusted them both with your life, but tonight, that trust felt more like a lifeline, taut and fraying with each passing second.

The rearview mirror offers no new insights, just the darkened street and the distant sounds of the city. You grip the steering wheel tighter. You can almost hear Tangerine’s voice, telling you to stay calm, to trust the plan. But the plan is starting to feel like a distant memory, overshadowed by a growing fear that this time, things won’t go as smoothly as they always have.

And then, like a thunderclap, the back door of the building bursts open.

Suddenly, Lemon charges through the back door of the building, supporting a hunched over Tangerine. It's clear that this simple job has gone terribly wrong. As they stagger closer, you see the blood—Tangerine is losing a lot of it. You reverse the car and drive towards them. Lemon yanks open the back door, practically shoving Tangerine inside before he climbs in himself.

"Go, go, go!" Lemon shouts, urgency in his voice.

You change immediately into first and slam the gas pedal to the floor, the tires screeching as the car lurches forward. The doors are barely closed, but you don’t have time to worry about that. In the rearview mirror, you see Lemon struggling to put pressure on one of Tangerines wounds, while the latter squirms in pain.

"What the fuck happened?" you demand, weaving through traffic with precision.

"Tangerine underestimated the Job, didn't wear his west and got shot," Lemon replies, his voice strained. Tangerine just groans, clearly in too much pain to speak.

"You didn't wear your fucking west?" you scoff, your hands gripping the wheel tightly. "You always chastise us when we're not wearing one, what the fuck were you thinking!"

"Yeah, well," Tangerine mutters in pain, "we all make mistakes."

You maneuver through the city's maze-like streets, dodging late-night traffic and running red lights. The city's neon lights cast eerie reflections inside the car, illuminating the tense scene. The smell of blood fills the air, and you can hear Tangerine's labored breathing from the back seat.

"You better not die on me, Tangerine," you say, your voice tight with a mixture of fear and anger. "I’m not dealing with your expensive funeral."

Tangerine tries to laugh, but it turns into a pained groan. "Always… so considerate," he manages to say between gasps.

"Save your strength, mate," Lemon says, pressing another wad of cloth against Tangerine's bleeding abdomen. "We need you to stay awake."

The car roars down a narrow alleyway, the tires barely gripping the slick pavement as you take a sharp turn. You can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. Every second counts, and the safehouse feels a million miles away.

"I swear, if we make it out of this alive, you're going to owe me one pristine car cleaning," you assert firmly, your voice tinged with worry.

"Deal," Tangerine replies, his eyes closing. Lemon looks at you through the rearview mirror "Just get us there in one piece."

You weave through the final stretch of city streets, your knuckles white on the steering wheel. The safehouse looms ahead, a nondescript building that has become your haven in times of crisis. You screech to a halt after driving into the garage, the car barely stopping before you pull the handbrake.

"Help me get him inside," Lemon says, rushing out and opening the back door. Together, you and Lemon half-carry, half-drag Tangerine towards the entrance, his blood leaving a grim trail behind you.

"Hang on, Tan," you whisper, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. "We're almost there."

Inside the safehouse, the familiar surroundings offer little comfort. You clear the kitchen table with a sweep of your arm, sending everything crashing to the floor.

"Lay him down here," you instruct. "I need to see how bad it is."

Tangerine's eyes flutter open, and he looks up at you with a weak smile. "You always did know how to make things dramatic, love" he jokes, his voice barely a whisper.

"Shut up," you say, your throat tight. "Just let me fix you up."

As you rip open his shirt, revealing the extent of his injuries, the reality of the situation hits you like a punch to the gut. Four bullet wounds, two in his left shoulder one in his right arm and the worst is stuck in the right side of his abdomen.

This isn't just another job gone wrong. This is a fight for survival. And in this moment, all you can think about is keeping Tangerine alive.

"You ruined my Burberry suit," Tangerine complains weakly, attempting a half-hearted smirk.

"I said, shut up," you snap, your voice tight with worry. Your hands move quickly, working to stop the bleeding. Tears blur your vision, but you force yourself to focus, ignoring the emotional storm brewing inside you.

Lemon stands by, trying to keep pressure on the wounds. He looks at you, concern etched on his face. "You alright?" he asks, noticing your tears.

You nod, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders. Each bullet you extract from Tangerine's flesh elicits an excruciating scream from him that reverberates through the room and it slices through you like a knife. But you steel yourself against the anguish, focusing solely on the task at hand. With each bullet removed, Tangerine's body relaxes a fraction, but his agony remains palpable.

Exhaustion settles over him like a heavy shroud, and he slumps back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. You work quickly, stitching him up as best you can with trembling hands, the urgency of the situation lending you a sense of clarity.

Once Tangerine is bandaged and relatively stable, you turn your attention to the smaller cuts and abrasions littering his body. With gentle care, you clean away the blood, your movements deliberate and precise as you tend to his wounds.

When you finally finish, you look to Lemon, concern etched into your features. "You got any injuries?" you ask, your voice laced with worry.

He shakes his head, his gaze unwavering as he grabs a blanket and pillow, arranging them to make Tangerine's makeshift bed on the kitchen table a little more comfortable.

You look at your blood covered hands and your mind starts to race,

The reality of the situation sinking in. Despite your years of experience you can't shake the feeling of helplessness that washes over you. You've faced danger countless times before, but this time feels different.

As you turn to wash the blood away in the sink, Lemon appears at your side. His eyes hold a depth of understanding that cuts through the turmoil in your soul.

"Not exactly the night we planned, huh?" Lemon tries to joke, but his voice wavers.

"Yeah…" you reply, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"You love him, don't you?" Lemon's voice breaks the silence, gentle but insistent.

You pause, the question hanging in the air. Tears spill over, and you nod, holding in a sob. "Yes," you whisper, your voice cracking. "I do."

Wordlessly, he reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. His touch is grounding.

With a steadying breath, you push aside the tumult of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

You look back at your shaking hands seeing the sink run red as you rinse the rest of Tans blood away, the water swirling slowly like the tension in your chest. The room feels both too small and too vast, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Lemon's eyes soften with understanding. "Does he know?" he asks gently.

You shake your head, tears now flowing freely. "No," you manage to choke out.

Lemon gives you a sad smile and pats your back. "It's gonna be okay. He's tough. He'll pull through. He's Tangerine, after all."

You look over at Tangerine, his face pale and his breathing shallow. The sight of him like this, so vulnerable, breaks something inside you. You sink to your knees beside the table, clutching his hand in yours, your tears falling onto his bloodstained shirt.

"I should have told him, “ You whisper, your voice breaking. "I should have told him every day."

Lemon kneels beside you, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He knows," he says softly. "Somehow, he knows. And he’s fighting.”

The room is silent except for the faint, labored breathing of Tangerine. You press your forehead to Tangerine's hand, your sobs shaking your entire body.

"Please, don't leave me," you whisper, your voice raw with pain. "I can't do this without you."

"He's going to make it," Lemon murmurs, more to himself than to you. "He has to."

You cling to those words, praying that they're true. Because the thought of a world without Tangerine is too much to bear.

When the morning sun shines through the kitchen window, you stir, the warm light nudging you awake. You jolt up, immediately checking on Tangerine and finding him still breathing, albeit slowly. His chest rises and falls steadily, and a wave of relief washes over you.

Your body aches from the uncomfortable sleeping position, but you ignore it, stretching briefly before moving around the kitchen to make some coffee, the familiar routine grounding you.

Suddenly, you hear a faint sound. Turning around, you see Tangerine, though barely conscious, calling out for you, reaching out weakly.

"Hey, " he murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed but a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You rush to his side, your heart heavy yet light with relief. “don't go too far" he whispers, his hand finding yours.

"Lemon!" you call out, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions. "Lemon, get in here!"

Lemon appears in the doorway, eyes widening as he takes in the scene. "What's going on? Is he—?"

"He's awake," you say, unable to contain the sob that escapes your lips. "He's going to be okay."

Lemon's face softens with a mixture of relief and joy. He steps forward, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I told you he's tough," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "Tan doesn't go down that easily."

You nod, unable to speak, the relief washing over you in waves. You stay by Tangerines side, his hand still clasped in yours, feeling the weight of the nights fear and uncertainty lift just a little.

Lemon places a gentle hand on your back, his voice soft but firm. "You need to rest. Take a shower, change into some fresh clothes. I'll keep an eye on him."

You hesitate, glancing back at Tangerine "Are you sure?" you ask, your voice wavering with concern.

"I'm sure," Lemon reassures you, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You look like shit."

"Thanks, Lem." you shake your head at his compliment and make your way to the bathroom. The hot water cascading over you feels like a much-needed cleanse, washing away the grime and the fear of the night. You change into fresh clothes, feeling a bit more human, and take a moment to steady yourself before heading back to the kitchen.

When you return, you see Lemon leaning close to Tangerine, their voices low as Tangerine attempts to sit up, wincing with every movement. Lemon supports him, and you quickly move to their side, slipping an arm around Tangerine to help. Together, you guide him into one of the bedrooms, easing him onto the bed so he can rest more comfortably.

"Thanks," Tangerine murmurs, his face still pale but his eyes more focused.

"You need to rest," you say, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "We'll be right outside." As you and Lemon turn to leave, Tangerine's voice stops you.

"Wait." His hand reaches out, grabbing yours weakly. You look at Lemon, who gives you a knowing nod.

"I'll give you two some privacy," he says softly. "Call if you need anything." You nod at Lemon before turning back to Tangerine.

"You scared the living daylight out of me last night," you admit, your voice trembling slightly as you sit on the edge of the bed, Tangerine's hand still clasped in yours.

"I didn't mean to," he replies, a weak smile playing on his lips. "But I guess I did give that Burberry suit a run for its money."

You manage a small laugh, tears of relief filling your eyes. "I guess I owe you a new shirt," you say, your voice breaking with emotion as you remember ripping it off him to stop the bleeding.

"And i owe you a pristine car cleaning," he replies, squeezing your hand tightly, his smile widening.

Your laughter fades and you sit in silence for a moment, gathering your courage. You know that now is the time to speak your heart. “Tan I—” you begin, but Tangerine interrupts, his expression soft.

"Thank you." He looks down for a second, watching his hand play with yours. “Sorry, you were saying,” he looks back up into your eyes.

You blink in confusion, feeling your cheeks flush. "Oh, erm… you don’t have to thank me. It’s... it’s part of the job." you mumble.

Tangerine’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s more than just a job to you, isn’t it?"

You swallow hard, the truth pressing against your lips. "Yes," you whisper, barely able to hold back the tears. "It’s more. So much more."

He nods, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Lemon might have hinted at it before, but I’ve suspected for a while."

A mixture of relief and embaressement washes over you. "Lemon and his big mouth," you mutter, a weak laugh escaping your lips.

Tangerine chuckles, but winces in pain. You scold him lightly. "Don’t laugh, you idiot. You need to rest."

He grins despite the pain, bringing his hand to your cheek. "Will you stay?"

You lean into his hand, feeling his touch. "I'll stay." you whisper, tears falling freely now.

Tangerine’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to brush a tear from your cheek. "I’ve been feeling the same way you know. For a while actually."

Your heart races, and you struggle to find your voice. "What?" Tangerine’s eyes flick between your eyes and your lips before he closes the gap, kissing you softly. The kiss is tender, filled with all the unspoken emotions you’ve both been holding back.

Its a clusterfuck, but someone might like it...

[bueckersbitch]

Grace and Grit - paige bueckers x oc

chapter three: like him

𐙚 grace and grit masterlist

𐙚 characters: hopkins!paige x oc

𐙚 warnings: underage drinking

𐙚 word count: 2.4k

𐙚 authors note: hiii lovies, here’s a little lore chapter, family is brought up hence the “like him” naming of the chapter… savor the fluff bc it starts going downhill from here… this is all fiction!! enjoy!

𐙚 taglist: @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb

A long practice leaves Blaire tired, her toes aching from her constricting pointe shoes, body aching from conditioning and fine tuning multiple numbers. Slowing to a stop at the gate of her neighborhood, as she waits she thinks about senior year, approaching in a couple of hours, dreading her rigorous schedule she had absentmindedly planned out during the end of her junior year. She drives through the gate, pulling up to her house, Blaire wasn’t ignorant to the fact that she was blessed, her dad being away had its downsides, him being absent, of course, but where there’s downsides, there’s always upsides. The upsides being more materialistic, her giant house on the lake, nestled into a private gated community, pine trees decorating the long driveway that leads to the towering dark wooden double doors.

Blaire turns into her driveway, halting her car to a stop outside of the Briar’s garage, a display case, essentially, with full glass windows showcasing three cars, orange, blue, and red. All sports cars that her dad had taken a liking to, purchasing them immediately as they were released. Wait, red car. Red car? No, that couldn’t have been right, the McLaren was gifted to Blaire’s sister, Parker, as a gift when she graduated high school, the color being a slight jab from her father to Parker, since Blaire’s dad had attended Harvard, while Parker would be attending Yale. Rivalry of the two schools being the main topic of thanksgiving dinners the last three years. That’s besides the point, Blaire couldnt help but wonder what Parker was doing here, in August. Blaire stares at the license plate, “PRKER” held by a rhinestone studded license plate holder. Quickly, Blaire steps out of her car and shuts the door, disregarding her dance duffel and holding the door handle to lock the car, swiftly walking to the doors that usually led to an empty house. Making quick work of the door code, she pushes her thumb down before stepping into the large entryway, low and behold, the overhead light was on, and her tall older sister, clad in a simple loveshackfancy mini dress, awaited her, seated legs crossed on the kitchen island chair, light brown hair slightly curled, long black nails wrapping around a glass of champagne.

Finally, the door shuts behind Blaire, grabbing Parker's attention, her green eyes darting to the root of the noise, smiling, she sets her glass and phone down. “Well look who it is, I’ve been waiting forever. I think the plant on this kitchen island knows more about my past year than you do.” Blaire rolls her eyes at that, making way to her older sister, wrapping her arms around her, Blaire regains her thoughts, Blaire and Parker only saw each other during Thanksgiving, and Christmas, Parker kept her promise of getting out of Minnesota, and staying out. She resided in Connecticut now, there was no need for her to visit the isolated state of Minnesota anymore, which provoked Blaire, “Why are you here Parks? Thought the next time I’d see you was during Thanksgiving” Parker pulls away from Blaire, holding her forearms, “My internship had me go to Milwaukee to figure out some logistics of the upcoming year. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to see you, Baby B” Baby B. Despite only being four years apart, Parker made sure to hold the fact that she was older than Blaire over her head. Every. Chance. She. Got. It didn’t take long until it got old, Parker was smart, graduating valedictorian of her class, a perfect ACT score, and getting accepted to multiple ivy’s, she was only four years older, but Blaire felt like an embarrassment beside her, reminders of the obvious difference in intelligence, plus the added age gap between them only separated Blaire from Parker more. Not to mention their contrasting features, Parker had light brown hair, green eyes, and stood at a height of 5 '10, while Blaire, had hair that toed the line of black, dark brown eyes, and stood at an average 5' 6. Blaire was happy to see her sister nonetheless, the house being eerily quiet again after her dad left in May for Dubai, work calling him away, the widespread house was nice, but it reminded Blaire of the loneliness that accompanied her when her family was away. “I’m glad you’re here Parks, especially since senior year starts tomorrow” Parker slouches at that, “Oh God, senior year. Have fun with that” Look on her face making it obvious there was something she was wanting Blaire to poke at, “What? Why do you have that look on your face?” Parker smirks to herself, “Oh, you know, all the parties, senior bonfire, homecoming afterparty, find your drink, prom afterparty, not to mention all the ones that come with every holiday you could think of” Blaire feels relief at this, “Oh, well, you know me. I won’t be able to make it to any of those anyway, senior season of dance means no distractions.” Parker chokes on her champagne at this, making Blaire step back, startled. “You’ve got to be kidding me right? No way you’re letting dance rob you of your senior year.” Blaire challenges her gaze, countering with, “You did it with studying. How is it any different?” Parker giggles at that, “The difference is that I balanced everything, you just didn’t know about my social life because I would sneak out to go to parties, I quite literally conditioned Dad so he wouldn’t be as mad at you when you would sneak out and you don't even take advantage of it” Parker shaking her head saying this, lips tucked into a tight line as she does so. Blaire thinks, no way her older sister, the girl who only studied her life away, was telling her this right now, her mind finding a new perspective, if Parker could balance everything, Blaire could too. Parker pats the seat next to her, before getting up and walking over to the champagne glasses, tugging a similar one to hers from the rack before pouring a glass, shoving it to Blaire. “We have a lot to talk about. About my life, about yours, and trust me, you’re going to want a drink for this.”

-

Blaire’s mouth is wide open, jaw dropped and eyes wide, “He cheated on you? At a nude party?” Parker laughs, the incomprehensible situation getting the best of her, “Yes bro! That’s what I’m saying, like damn I couldn’t see him for one week and he was already out fucking other bitches” Blaire blinks a couple of times before she responds, “Im sorry Parks, but at least you don’t have to deal with that anymore.” Parker nods, a clear, “Yeah, dodged a bullet with that one” coming from her. Parker was confident, in her looks, her intelligence, her capability, that’s the reason why shit like that didn’t matter to her, because at the end of the day, she was successful, not the guy she was dating. “Sooooo, any lucky people for you? Who am I kidding, probably not” Parker prods at her little sister, Blaire shooting her a pointed glare, sharply saying, “I’ll have you know that there actually is someone, and she’s great.” Parker sits up straight at this, “Ohhhhh reallllyyyy, who’s the lucky girl?” Blaire blushes, the mere thought of Paige overcoming her senses, body retreating into herself, a quiet murmur of “Her name is Paige Bueckers, she plays basketball.” Leaving her. Parker is fully turned towards Blaire now, every sentence her little sister saying connecting the dots in her brain, “Holy shit! Paige Bueckers?” Parker questions further, leaving Blaire to say, “You know her?” Parker pffts at that, “Of course I do! Everyone’s talking about ‘The basketball beast out of Hopkins, Minnesota’” Parker’s finger quotes around the summary of who Paige was make Blaire’s eyebrow raise, “Why the finger quotes?” With every word Blaire manages to sneak out, Parker becomes more and more astonished. “B, it’s quite literally what they’re calling her on every article, everywhere I turn it’s all about this amazing number one recruit from this town I tried so hard to escape from.” Blaire rolls her eyes, “And if you wanted to escape so badly, why do you know all the towns business.” Parker’s hand slams against the counter, playfully of course, “Baby B!!! Is it so wrong to want to stalk my opps once in a while? You further prove my point by the way, about wasting your time in highschool, you don’t even know about the girl you’re talking to! God how could you not? I feel like this town literally screams her name at this point.” Blaire smiles, thinking about the person that Paige Bueckers is, leaving such a mark on people, to the point where the ‘Town screams her name’ As her older sister said. Almost on queue, the starlite snapchat notification sounds from the dark haired girl's phone. Now it’s Parker’s turn to raise an eyebrow, “Right on the universe's timing, huh?”

-

Paige sighs, retreating to the comfort of her room, after greeting her dad and baby brother, Drew, downstairs. Opening her door, she’s met with the familiarity of it all, golden awards lining the shelves, medals hanging from the walls, SZA posters sloppily hung up above her bed. She reaches for her dresser, holding the light remote to her LED’s in her hand before turning them on to a blue color. She flops onto her bed, messy hair sprawling out on the purple bedding, staring up at the ceiling fan which is spinning counter-clockwise, she can’t help but glance at the clock, 11:30. Blaire should’ve responded by now, having been out of dance for thirty minutes, Paige reaches into her blue nike tech pocket, pulling her phone from it, hands comically large in comparison to it, swiping up and finding Blaire in her Snapchat, pinned at the top, of course. She holds her gaze on the soft “blaire 💝🩰” Wondering if she should double text her, she didn’t want to look desperate, obviously, but she also couldn’t help but wonder what was keeping her pretty dancer away from her for so long. She opts to texting her, what’s a relationship built on miscommunication, right? Okay, no. They were not ‘anything’ God she hated that. She was a lover, whether it be shown through her caring nature for others, her family, or even her love for the game. Paige Bueckers is a lover.

Soon enough, but not soon enough for Paige, Blaire responds. Paige immediately swipes into the chat, the background being a comforting photo of the two of their hands laced together. A cute photo Blaire didn’t know Paige even took on their night out. Paige takes in the message: you won’t believe what just happened. Paige falters. Something bad? Is that why Blaire was away for so long? Paige couldn’t get too caught up with her own thoughts though, because as soon as she finished her thought, the next message of, my sister’s back in town popped up shortly after. A weight being lifted off of Paige’s shoulders, grateful it wasn’t the worst thing she had thought of. u had me worried there, thought u were in danger or smth. Chat bubbles pop up from Blaire, well, if my sister’s in town, I may as well be. Paige laughs to herself at Blaire’s dramatics, it being something she admired. Blaire put up a front, for sure. But even her hard exterior showed her emotions, her dramatics being the top way for her to express her true self. Paige found herself breaking through that shell of Blaire, though. Responding with an ok but i’ll be ur knight in shining armor 😇 Blaire replies, ur funny bueckers. Paige smiles, hearting the message, then locking her phone. Making her way to her bathroom, she sets her towel down on the ledge next to the toilet, placing her plaid pj pants and plain black t-shirt on top. She turns on the hot shower, waiting for it to warm up a bit, knowing Blaire all too well, she decides to snap a mirror photo of her in her nike tech, the Hopkins blue bringing out her equally blue eyes, turning her head slightly towards her phone, showing off her jawline. Sending the photo to Blaire, she’s immediately met with the blaire 💝🩰saved your snap in chat notification, followed by a message of paigeeeee you know what youre doing and a photo of Blaire in a matching pj set, light pink mini shorts with a simple tank top to match. Paige matches Blaire’s energy, saving the photo and responding with yeah? so do u. She cherished these small flirtatious moments between them, setting her phone down, hopping into the now hot shower, taking her hair out of her ponytail, letting the day wash away. Paige pondered about Blaire’s family life for a little, of course, she knew that Blaire’s dad was the type of father who was “Present but absent” In the way where he was never home. Sure, some people would long for having a house to themselves all the time, but Paige couldn’t help but feel bad for her. Paige grew up with her mom away, in Montana, but it was different, because she had her Dad, Stepmom, and Drew. All of them being her biggest supporters through everything. USA basketball wins, gatorade player of the year, moving up the ranks, all of it. While they were there for the highs of her life, they were also there for the lows, bad games, injuries, her and her long term girlfriends split, and the worst of all, losing her best friend to cancer. She couldn’t imagine going through the most pivotal and personality shaping moments without someone there to lean on, so she had a lot of respect for Blaire, for putting up with the world. She found her resilient, and independent, something she found herself lacking. She turns the shower knob off, stepping out of the shower and into her warm towel, drying off, then pulling on her pj’s, Paige unlocks her phone, a message from Blaire, thirty minutes ago, okkk i really need to go to sleep a separate message right after the first saying, ill see u at school tmr :) Paige easily finds herself typing out, see u tmr pretty girl Tomorrow, they went back to the harsh reality that shaped their futures, senior year. One last year before their lives changed forever.

[vintagelasvegas]

Eddie “Gentleman Gangster” Trascher at Ringside Liquor, aka Dino's Lounge in the 60s. 1516 Las Vegas Blvd S has been a bar since 1953.

Ringside Liquors opened at a different location downtown at 123 North 2nd St (Casino Center Blvd near Ogden). Sports promoter Dick Russell opened the bar in '49 where his Nevada Sports Enterprises had been operating three years prior. Ringside Liquors relocated to 1516 South 5th (Las Vegas Blvd) in Apr. 1953.

The building, curved on its east wall, opened circa '50 as Wimpy’s Pick-a-Rib Joynt drive-in. Clark County Assessor's office dates the building as even older.

Eddie Trascher bought Ringside in ‘62 and formed Ringside Liquors Inc. Dean Bartolo bought the business from Trascher and changed the name to Dino’s Lounge in ‘69. Ringside Liquors Inc, DBA Dino's Lounge, is now owned and operated by Dino’s granddaughter. The bar's motto, "Getting Vegas Drunk Since '62," refers to Ringside's incorporation date.

The phone number.

The phone number at Dino's Lounge dates back to the '40s when the 4-digit "3894" was the number of Dick Russell's Nevada Sports Enterprises. The advertisement announcing Russell's relocation said, “new convenient location, same old phone no. 3894.” Las Vegas phone numbers converted to 7-digit letters and numbers in the 50s, and area codes followed in the 60s. Ringside’s number became DU 2-3894, or 382-3894, and Dino’s number became (702) 382-3894.

The robbery.

When Ringside moved in 1953 it was co-owned by Dick Russell and Peggy Reimers, and operated by Dick’s wife Nina Russell and Peggy’s mother Muriel Moore. There was a robbery at the bar on Aug. 10th that year, the results of which played out on the front page of the Review-Journal over the next several months. Three men were arrested: Waxler, Dye, and Vincent, all ex-cons, each of whom implicated Nina Russell as mastermind of a plot to rob the store, kill her husband, and severely beat Mrs. Moore. Waxler stated he backed out of hurting Mrs. Moore because he “didn’t feel like injuring an old woman begging for mercy.” According to Dye, Mrs. Russell told him “Dick had given her a rough go for about 20 years and had taken her for what money she had.” Waxler and Vincent plead guilty and were sentenced to six months in county jail; Dye, the lookout, convicted of a lesser charge. Mrs. Russell was arrested but released and not charged. No other action was taken on the case despite Judge Frank McNamee terming Mrs. Russell’s testimony “suspicious.”

List: The Oldest Bars in Las Vegas

Review-Journal photos of the new bar in Apr. 1953, and Nina Russell's arrest in Aug. 1953.

Eddie Trascher at Ringside, 1960s.

Dino's Lounge in the 70s. Some time in the 60s-70s the windows and door on the curved, blvd-facing side of the building were covered and a new entrance was added on the southeast corner. An outdoor patio was added in the 2010s.

Trascher family photo via Balls: The Life of Eddie Trascher, Gentleman Gangster by Ken Sanz and Scott M. Deitche. Photo of Dino's courtesy of Dino’s Lounge.

Additional sources. Russel to Open Liquor Store. Review-Journal, 5/19/49; Ringside Liquor Store Moves to South Fifth. RJ, 4/8/53; Nab Vegas Woman in Theft Plot, RJ, 8/13/53; Accusation of Wife Amazes Dick Russell. RJ, 8/18/53; Ringside Case Pair Draws Six-Month Jail Sentences. RJ, 12/9/53; F. Duke. “Visiting Fireman” column. RJ, 7/30/62; 6 Gaming License Additions Granted by City Commission. RJ, 5/22/69.

Published Oct 25, 2018, Updated 4/21/2025

[i-wheeley-like-you]

Ronance headcanons!!

Nancy once gave Robin a ring and Robin has never ever taken it off. She point blank refuses to take it off and when she's asked where it came from she gatekeeps that information.

Nancy is CUDDLY!! She is so scared of Robin disappearing like Barb did that she literally never lets Robin out of her sight and if she can, she will be touching her in some way.

They both struggle to say 'I love you'. Nancy struggles because of her parents disfunctional marriage and Robin struggles because she genuinely cannot express how she feels ever.

The first time they did the deed they were both so confused and decided that 'whatever happens happens'.

Sometimes Robin just stares at Nancy until Nancy acknowledges it. Then when Nancy does acknowledge it she gets nervous and looks away.

Nancy is a thief. She steals any old clothes that Robin has showed even a small amount of boredom for. Robin doesn't mind, she thinks they look better on Nancy anyway.

The first time Robin saw Nancy in a swimsuit she was not a functional member of society for a solid half hour. This was the same vice versa.

They both equally need reassurance and sometimes get upset with eachother when they don't get it. Robin needs assured that Nancy isn't just experimenting with her and Nancy needs assured she isn't just being used.

Steve was initially kinda mad at Robin for breaking 'bro-code' and dating his ex... but eventually he came around.

If Robin/Nancy were to go missing in season five, the other would FREAK OUT. I feel like Nancy especially would do everything in her power to find Robin in fear it would be another Barb situation.

They have drastically different music tastes but somehow manage to agree on music for every single car ride.

Nancy initiated the first kiss and Robin was genuinely astounded.

They're both equally protective of eachother. If someone makes Nancy upset, Robin will go ballistic. Despite usually being quite chill and laid back, she would definetely smash a car window or slash a few tires. Nancy on the other hand just straight up threatens people who make Robin even the slightest bit upset.

Robin is a major passenger princess for MONTHS until she finally gets her license and then she starts returning the favour of Nancy driving her everywhere.

They are both jealous. Like very jealous.

[missybee-writes]

Shadow in the Dark: Chapter Five - Sleepover

Genre: Sci-fi; Romance; Horror

Warnings: (eventual) sexual content; violence; gore; swearing; alcohol and drug use.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Summary

In July ‘85, an ambitious realtor sells the crumbling Creel house to a family looking for a new start.

Rose McAllister may be living in a grand and gothic murder house in a small Midwest town, but senior year in high school is the stuff of her nightmares: a last chance at a normal school year without being the odd one out, the sick girl, the weirdo from across the pond. Blend in, make it through the year, and make some friends. Stay unnoticed at all costs.

Hawkins, and one seriously loud-mouthed metalhead, is about to flip that carefully laid plan Upside Down.

Chapter one: Cursed

Chapter two: Munson Magic

Chapter three: Fearless

Chapter Four: Code Name, Farrah Fawcett

Ao3 link

---

Rose

Hawkins was pretty in the autumn. Maybe it was the burnt orange leaves that crunched underneath her boots, or the slight chill in the air that felt crisp and tingled in her lungs as she breathed deeply. Maybe it was the freedom of walking into town on a Saturday afternoon by herself, fresh from a morning of American History homework and completing all her week’s assignments. She might not have a driver's license, but when the red-gold tree-lined streets were this picturesque, who minded walking?

Main Street was busy on a Saturday afternoon, a dozen bikes chained up outside the stores, older folks sat on a bench outside the library, watching the world go by. A girl with red hair a little lighter than Rose’s swung open the door of the arcade, and a loud wave of bleeping machines and electronic music blasted out the open door. She slapped a skateboard on the sidewalk, jumping on it and balancing easily, weaving between a couple leaving Melvald’s General Store with big brown paper bags and ignoring their protests as she passed. The girl raised her middle finger over her head as she disappeared in the distance, attitude stone cold.

Rose peered into the arcade window, and saw a familiar gangly figure inside. Mike was hunched over one of the arcade games, bashing buttons and manhandling a joystick, whilst Lucas leaned against it, slumped and looking longingly at the door.

She thought about waving or saying hello, but they were both absorbed by the shiny metal machine with its bright screen, with a great big donkey plastered on the side. Fixated, like it was life and death. She’d never understood the appeal herself; being wound up like a jack-in-the-box and raging with anger, desperate to beat some high score and placing coin after coin into the game...all for what? To end up on a leaderboard on a tiny screen?

After a few seconds at the window someone her age with brown hair and a name badge popped up on the other side with a weird look on his face, staring at her with his mouth wide open; she backed away slowly, then quickly paced along the sidewalk, almost missing her destination.

Family Video was attached to the arcade, with a neon store sign and glass windows covered in posters of The Breakfast Club and Scarface , along with other movies she hadn’t seen. Her nerves came back in full force as she pushed open the door, not sure if Robin would be up front. 

It wasn’t busy inside, with only a couple of families browsing the rows and rows of tapes, and stands of popcorn and candy. A guy leaned casually on the counter, in a white shirt and green waistcoat, kind of like Han Solo. He was glued to a TV behind the counter, with his back to Rose, and a hell of a head of hair.

“Welcome to Family Video,” he said in a monotone voice, like he wanted to be anywhere else. “We bring the stars of Hollywood to your living room for low, low prices.”

No sign of Robin, not lingering in the rows of tapes or behind the counter with the guy.

“Hello,” she approached the counter with a tentative wave, one slow step at a time. “Hi. Sorry, i’m looking for Robin, and I don’t know if i’m in the right place.”

He noticed her slowly, head turning, straightening himself up and looking at her eagerly. Floppy hair. Confident. 

She fidgeted with her hands, squirming internally at being the centre of someone’s full attention. “Well, I know I must be in the right place, there can’t be two video stores in a town this size, can there? I mean, there are only so many times you can watch The Breakfast Club before you start to lose the will to live. Oh...sorry, that’s probably your favourite, isn’t it. I have a unique talent of putting my foot in my mouth within three seconds of meeting someone.”

The guy’s answering smile was kind of dreamy, which threw her for a loop. He leaned on the counter, speaking low, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Actually, between you and me, I hate The Breakfast Club. I feel like i’m there, taking detention on a Saturday, wasting my life in a school library instead of being outside with my friends. Libraries are kind of dull, aren’t they?”

“Some people would say that,” she mumbled. Not her , but she didn’t want to argue about it. “I’ve never had detention though.”

“Not once?”

“Nope. Cross my heart.”

He found that amusing, his smile growing wider. “Really? You know what, you kind of remind me of the girl from that movie. Molly Ringwald. Mostly the hair, maybe not the face.”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it myself.” Rose’s hand raked through her hair; it was much longer, but perhaps it was a similar shade of red. Though Molly Ringwald had a perfectly styled head of hair in the movie, and Rose’s long waves were more untameable. She’d left it in its natural state this morning as she couldn’t face a can of hairspray or a mirror, still brooding after last night’s disaster when Eddie drove her home and all but confessed he had someone special already. And she was admittedly a little taller and rounder than Molly, never running particularly thin like some of the girls at school.

“Actually, I’ve been told i’m like the jock, what’s his name...” he clicked his fingers repeatedly.

“Emilio Estevez?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. But come on, Emilio Estevez wishes he had my hair.”

She snorted with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “It is a good head of hair. I wish I could keep mine that bouncy.”

“You think so? It’s all natural, just born with good genetics, I guess. Hey, how have I not seen you around before? I mean-”

“Oh no, this is not happening, Steve! ” A screeching Robin burst through the office doorway behind the desk, an angry whirlwind in a green waistcoat, hair tied up in a messy half-pony. “My friends are off limits. Keep your sucky flirting skills in your holster.”

Rose cringed hard, half tempted to hide behind a row of tapes or a cardboard cutout of Indiana Jones she’d just spotted in the corner. Refuge behind her beloved Indy.

“ Jesus , Rob,” Steve whined, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t I have a conversation with a girl without you bursting out and mocking me? Do you have to do this every time?”

That was flirting? Rose glanced at him out the corner of her eye...she supposed he did have a kind of Simon Le Bon look...but not even a resemblance to her favourite musician could detract from the fact that when she saw this guy’s perfectly nice brown eyes, all she could think of was they’re not Eddie’s . Eddie’s were unfathomably dark, except in the bright sunlight, when the sun’s rays lit them whiskey-brown. Oh god, She was well and truly fucked, wasn’t she?

Robin leapt onto the counter and knocked over a tape, sitting cross legged on the top and prodding him in the chest.

“Ow,” he rubbed the offending spot.

“You should be thanking me for retiring the ‘you suck’ scoreboard, dingus. I finally have a cool, cultured, European friend, and you’re not taking her from me with your Farrah Fawcett hair and your King Harrington routine. She speaks French, Steve. French. She’s been to Paris. Whatever this is,” Robin waved her hand at him disdainfully, “she’s not interested.”

“Hello? I’m right here,” Rose said. The odd duo didn’t even stop to take a breath, they kept right on bickering.

“Alright, alright, cool it,” Steve held up his hands, de-escalating the situation. “I’m not sure if I can just turn off my innate natural charm like a light switch, but I get it. Off limits.”

“Steve?” Rose said, cogs turning slowly in her head. “As in, walkie talkie Steve?”

They both snapped to her, like they only just remembered she was there, wearing twin expressions of confusion. 

“How do you know about the walkie-talkies?” Robin asked suspiciously. “Our frequency is supposed to be highly secret.”

Steve leaned into Robin, their heads almost pressed together. “You said she speaks other languages , right?”

Robin thought about it for a while, and shrugged. “Nah, she’s too odd to be a...uh...one of the workers in the mall. She’s organically odd. No one in a position of power would dream this cover story up.”

“Odd, you say. How?” Steve asked.

“Well, for one, she made a total ass of herself in front of O’Donnell’s class by insulting the jocks and their macho need to throw balls in hoops. No desire to fit in with that team of idiots and their slack-jawed followers, at all.”

Steve frowned. “I was the captain of that team of idiots until like three months ago...you do remember that, don’t you?”

“That’s why her speech was so brilliant, it was insightful...scathing...tearing down the fragile male ego,” Robin sighed. “But she also lives in the murder house on Morehead, and that’s just too weird a backstory to make up.”

“Maybe,” Steve agreed. “Or maybe that’s what the Russians want you to think. Or maybe - ”

“Fucking hell,” Rose snapped. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know half of what you’re talking about, but you seem to be implying i’m some kind of spy, when actually i’m just friends with Dustin. I overheard your conversation on the walkies. Spinal Tap? Remember?”

“Oh shit,” Steve said, the memory clearly coming back to him. “ You’re Dustin’s lady friend.”

“Ew, don’t phrase it like that.” Robin pulled a face. But she slumped with relief, resting her elbows on her cross-legged knees. “I’m sorry, Rose, we may get a little carried away sometimes. You’re good, in fact, you’re great. Most interesting newcomer to Hawkins in like, ever. Are we good? You’re not gonna ban me from our murder-house movie night sleepover are you?”

Rose kicked the fluorescent carpet with her shoe, looking at the floor. “Of course not. Who am I to judge someone else with verbal diarrhoea? If anything, it makes me feel less anxious. And I could do with some cheering up, actually.”

“Oh,” Robin drew out the word, scooching along the counter and dropping her legs off the front, coming closer to Rose. “Is it to do with that whole thing going on at school, the extreme sexual tension with...uh...the guy in our English class.”

“Guy?” Steve asked, looking slightly dejected. “Of course, all the beautiful girls are spoken for.”

Rose was reeling with the implication that anyone would think her beautiful, let alone this admittedly handsome and confident young man, when a customer shattered their illusion of privacy.

“Excuse me?” A middle aged lady in a pea coat, clutching a tape, approached the counter. “Is anyone actually working in this place?”

Steve’s ‘innate natural charm’ turned straight back on, smiling sweetly at the lady. “I am so sorry, ma’am, we were just helping this customer with a video-related dilemma. But let me help you right out with that....Love Story, huh? What a classic movie. Gosh, it just makes me cry every time.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” the lady said, looking starry-eyed at him. “I’ve watched it a dozen times, at least.”

Steve stifled a laugh. “Is that so? Well that must make you our most loyal customer.”

Robin hopped off the counter, leaving Steve to serve the lady, ushering Rose to one side, standing underneath the TV. She slung her arm around her. “I’m the last person to think the world revolves around guy drama, but this is about him, isn’t it?”

Rose could feel a curious mix of anger and tenderness at the very implication of it. She hadn’t had the chance to speak to Robin about it, Robin only twigged on her crush yesterday, seeing her and Eddie together up close for the first time.

“Maybe,” she offered up.

“What a dickhead,” Robin fumed on her behalf. “What did he do? Whatever it is, it’s his fault, I just know it. My offer stands, by the way. I can set a very ferocious middle schooler on him for you. He’ll crumble like a breadstick.”

“It’s not anything he did,” Rose groaned. “It’s what he didn’t do. It’s me, i’m an idiot.”

Steve’s eyes were alert, swivelling between the two girls. The moment the lady at the counter left and the store's door closed, he leaned across the counter. “Who are we talking about here? Do I know the guy? Want me to break out my nail bat?”

Robin shot him a scathing look. The two of them clearly were great friends, for this felt like the real unfiltered Robin, not the slightly more reserved version she’d seen at school. “It’s not my place to tell you, it’s kind of private.”

“Who am I gonna repeat high school gossip to?” He said. “I’m a working man now, with my own place.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Your parents’ pool house doesn’t count, dingus.”

“Yes it does!”

“Do you pay rent?”

“I help with groceries sometimes.”

She looked over at Rose. “Point proven. He’s a man child.”

“Hey, that is a very adult thing to do, alright?” He objected, crossing his arms and looking between the both of them. “And not even the grocery store. I went to the butchers in Cartersville last week and picked up a rack of lamb for my mom’s dinner party, it cost twenty bucks...how ridiculous is that?”

“Was it crusted in gold?” Rose added. “Never mind. Anyway, there’s no secret to keep because nothing is happening . Eddie and I are merely friends. Platonic friends, who barely know each other. Acquaintances, really. That is all.”

“No, no, no,” Robin interjected. “ Steve and I are platonic friends. Have been ever since we started working together at Scoops Ahoy. I enjoy watching him strike out with girls, because we’re not interested in each other like that. You and Eddie? No way. I thought English class yesterday was gonna end one of two ways: a proposal, or the two of you making out on O’Donnell’s desk in front of the whole class. It was the nerdiest flirting i’ve ever witnessed in my life - and that includes dingus here - but you were both drooling over each other.”

“Eddie.” Steve tapped on the counter as he thought aloud. “Eddie Kowalski, in Junior year? Glasses, mathlete?”

“God, no,” Robin laughed.

“But it has to be, that's the only Eddie below my class at-” Steve paused, and looked back at Rose in total shock. “Oh sweet mother of god, hold on. Are we talking about Eddie the freak Munson?”

Rose snapped. All the emotions of the past week boiled up and rushed out at once, until she was wagging her finger in Steve’s face. “Don’t call him that! What is it with people calling him a freak? He’s the kindest, sweetest person I think I've ever met. He protects his little pack of friends, gathers up all the outcasts who are bullied and abused, and puts himself on the line - literally taking a beating, if what I hear from Dustin is true - to keep them safe and give them a sense of belonging. He’s putting himself through a third senior year, because despite all the insults and the mocking from his classmates and the whole bloody town, he wants to be better than the name Munson . Nothing about that suggests to me that he is a freak.”

Robin and Steve were stunned into silence, and it was too much. Tears started spilling from the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by all the new things that had happened in her short time in Hawkins High, the new place, new people, and horrible new emotions. “And maybe I thought something would happen between us. But it’s all hopeless, because he already has someone. He said as much last night, when he wouldn’t come into my house. I feel like such a fucking idiot . Sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

After a long pause, breathing hard, Robin rushed over and gave her a bone-crunching hug, the scent of shampoo and strawberry chapstick overcoming her. It was strangely comforting, not being able to move in her arms.

“Boys are so stupid,” Robin groaned. “But in good news, you’re in the right place for a breakdown. Steve and I are the most pathetic losers in the romance department ever. He’s not over his ex, and I...well, I have a tendency to like people who are unattainable. And beyond that, it’s been kind of a hellish year for us.”

“Yep,” Steve echoed. “We’re doomed. Welcome to the losers club, come and join us.” He opened the hatch to the counter, and she followed Robin into the employees’ domain, the little control centre of the video store.

“Munson though,” Steve mused out loud. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. Though I suppose Molly Ringwald does end up with Judd Nelson in the Breakfast Club. is there a basket case out there searching for me? If she looks like Ally Sheedy, I'll gladly accept.”

“Eddie is nothing like Bender,” Rose scoffed, sitting on a stool by the snacks. “Eddie rants a little bit, but he’s not angry. He’s just anti-establishment, naturally ill-disposed to authority.”

“That’s too many syllables for a Saturday evening,” Robin complained. “But here’s what I don’t get...who the hell is this mystery girl that Eddie is with? I have never seen him with a girl at school, not once. There was a rumour that a girl in the party kid clique - Cass something or other - was seeing him secretly a couple of years ago, but that was never really proved. And she had plenty of boyfriends after. Anyway it’s a moot point, she moved to Wisconsin for College in ‘84.”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t think of a single girl it could be. But we haven’t exactly moved in the same circles. Are you sure he has someone? What happened?”

Rose picked at a loose thread on her dress, going back to the conversation in her driveway last night. “He dropped me off at home last night. I asked if he wanted to come inside, and he said he’d like to, but he made a promise not to do it and he didn’t want to be a cheating, lying scumbag like his dad. Or words to that effect.”

Steve sucked in a breath. “Damn. Did he actually mention a girlfriend by name?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re sure he likes you?” He asked. “I don’t want to upset anyone, but he could have used a fake girlfriend as an excuse. What kind of signs are we talking about here? And not this girlie magazine stuff, like he opened a door for me once, he must be dreaming of our marriage ?”

“I don’t have much experience in this area, but let’s see,” Rose said, so firmly down the rabbit hole with Robin and Steve that she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. “He made me a mixtape. He called me fairer than the sunrise over  mountains. He kissed my hand once, though that was kind of acting during a Hellfire session. We did almost properly kiss a couple of times.”

“Wait, what?” Robin interrupted. “You never told me this? Explain, stat.”

Rose’s skin flushed warm. “We were in the woods behind the school on Monday, and we ended up holding hands. He sort of held my face and pulled me closer, but his rings got stuck in my hair and took out a small chunk of it. Oh, and then we were pressed against the lockers yesterday but Jeff came into the hall, and even Jeff noticed something, he called it a weird, alien mating ritual. So I don’t think it’s just me misunderstanding things.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve affirmed, arms crossed over his Family Video waistcoat. “That is not platonic behaviour. He’s down bad.”

“But I don’t think i’m his type. Dustin said he has a thing for cheerleaders.”

Steve made a funny face. “Pfft. So he’s a red blooded male? Doesn’t mean he only likes cheerleaders.”

Robin cracked her knuckles and stood up, pacing around the desk area. “We need to solve this mystery, I just can’t take it. Is there an unknown girlfriend? What is going on? I would say we could ask Dustin and Mike, but they’re little snitches, I can sense it. They’ll tell Eddie or the older guys and it will all come out.”

It was oddly comforting, sitting with an action movie blaring in the background as the last few customers of the day browsed the tapes, sharing her confusion with Steve and Robin behind the counter. At least she wasn’t brooding in her room, looking out over the treetops like a heroine from an Austen novel.

“Hold on a minute,” Steve sounded excited. “I may not have moved in the same circles as Eddie, but I know someone who does. I dated Jackie Teague in Junior year.”

He looked at them like that should mean something, tutting when their faces were blank. “Her older brother Dougie was one of his best friends, before he failed senior year the first time. And he used to be in that satanic little club with Eddie, the stupid hell and brimstone thing.”

“Hellfire,” Rose corrected. “Which i’ve joined, by the way.”

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, like he was utterly fed up. “Eddie Munson is suddenly a crushable figure and pretty girls are joining the satan club? It’s like the order of things changed as soon as I graduated. But I might be able to get to Dougie through Jackie and get the dirt on your guy.”

“You would do that?” Rose said gratefully. 

“Any friend of Robin’s is a friend of mine. Plus, us romantic losers need a helping hand now and then, right?” He ran over to a jacket on the back of his chair, and pulled a little book out of his pocket, wetting his thumb and flipping through the pages.

Robin pumped her fist and hopped back up on the table, sitting cross-legged again. “Steve, I knew your slutty little black book would come in handy one day. I am so here for this investigation. Harrington, Buckley and McAllister, detectives extraordinaire. You know what? All this tension makes me hungry. This calls for snacks,” she reached out for a pack of candy, something labelled Chewy Lemonheads Rose had never seen before. She broke open the box and popped one in her mouth, holding out the box. “What? I’ll ring this up on the register before I leave, i’m not just stealing.”

“Thanks,” Rose took one, pulling off the plastic wrapper as Steve balanced the earpiece of the phone between his ear and shoulder, dialling a number.

There was a long pause. “Jackie, it's Steve. Yeah, that Steve...” he grimaced at Robin and Rose, and a tinny voice from the phone got louder. “No Jackie, I am not crawling back to...hold on a minute, will you just let me speak? I’m sorry about the whole thing, alright? Tommy H was a prick. No, we don’t hang out together any more, I wised up eventually...yeah, you were right about me. I wasn’t in the best place, but i’m doing better now.”

Steve slumped over, shaking his head. “Actually, i’m not at college, i’m a working man now. Wait, that’s not the point. I kind of need to speak to your brother about something, I was hoping you could give me his number. Why?” He looked over at Rose, scrambling for something to say. “He was in a band, and i’m looking to get into the music sales business. I could do with some insider intel on what kind of items to stock. Uh...amps...guitars, you know, the usual.”

His smile must have meant it worked. He grabbed the little book, and looked around desperately for a pen; Rose leapt off her stool and passed him one from the counter, so he could scribble down a number. “Thanks. Seriously, i’m glad you’re doing well. Bye Jackie.”

Robin began to laugh, her shoulders shaking. “She was mad, wasn’t she. What happened between you two?”

Steve raised a brow. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Are you the lady in this scenario?”

“He’s one of the girls, don’t let him fool you into thinking he’s a jock,” Robin agreed.

“Haven’t I done enough?” Steve waved the number in the air. 

“You’re right,” Rose said, contrite. “Please, please work your mysterious magic and see what you can find out. I’ll owe you one.”

He was smug, still craned to one side to hold the receiver to his ear. He dialled the second number, whistling as he waited for the phone to ring out.

“Where even is Dougie Teague?” Robin asked, voice muffled as she chewed on a lemonhead. 

“Terre Haute, his old man has a construction firm up there,” Steve replied. “Oh hi , man. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Sorry, that wasn’t a joke about the Hellflame club.”

They waited whilst Steve greeted this Dougie guy, a faint voice coming from the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, I have a favour to ask,” Steve admitted, twirling the phone cord around his finger. “But before I say anything, I need you to promise that word doesn’t reach anyone about what i’m asking, including the person this relates to. It’s part of the favour. Why should you do that? Do you not remember the number of times I distracted your parents at dinner while you climbed in the window stoned off your ass? And the time that I took the blame for that box of condoms? Your dad gave me ‘the talk’ with a shotgun casually laid out on the coffee table. I could have died, man. Or, I could go and visit your Mom right now and...”

Rose was kind of engrossed, finding out about the inner workings of this Steve, the friend to so many people in her new social circle. From his easy going demeanour, and the way he so casually called in a whole bunch of favours to help a relative stranger, she could tell he was a good egg. 

“Thank you,” Steve sighed. “That’s the spirit. So I need to know everything about the romantic history of Eddie Munson.”

He held the receiver away from his head as laughter rang out. “Yeah man, i’m serious. Remember the deal. Jeez, I don’t care if you think he’s an overdramatic dungeon master...wait, that’s not something sexual is it? Oh, thank god. Now spill. Any girlfriends, crushes, preferences?”

Five minutes stretched out with Steve adding the occasional uh huh, okay , or anything else? , and it felt like the longest five minutes of Rose’s life. Robin had to serve a couple of customers in the interim, ushering them out of the store as quickly as she could without being rude. Between them they went through the box of candy, until she could feel the beginnings of a stomach ache coming on. Though it could be the tension as much as the chewy lemonheads, tangy and sugar-sweet in her mouth.

By the time Steve hung up the phone with a shrill ring, it was closing time. Robin sprinted over to the door and flipped over the sign from open to closed and they waited with baited breath.

“Do you want the good news or the bad first?” Steve asked, running his hand through his floppy hair, almost making it stand on end. 

“Bad,” Rose said. “Wait, good then bad. I’m fragile today, build me up to it.”

“Okay. Good news, he doesn’t have a girlfriend that Dougie knows of, and saw Eddie only last month for a rock concert in Terre Haute.”

“That’s great!” Robin looked joyful. “No girlfriend!”

“That we know of,” Rose reminded her.

Steve cleared his throat and continued. “He’s not really had girlfriends in school, Dougie thinks he was seeing that Cass girl. He may have had a thing with a girl from a bar in town, but that was a while back. And his last girlfriend was a music label executive from California, who was a few years older. She apparently wanted Eddie to move out there and pursue a record deal, but something happened to throw it off. He wouldn’t say what it was.”

What? How was she supposed to compete with older women, bloody record executives with a vast array of experience - life, career, sexual - that she wouldn’t have? And she would bet the California girl didn't need to be given a mixtape to learn what metal music is. God, it made her feel like a kid.

“There’s more,” he said carefully. “Dougie thinks he has a thing for Chrissy Cunningham, though Eddie hadn’t mentioned it in a while. Said he’d had a crush on her since middle school.”

At this point, Rose just hummed and nodded, her worst fears oconfirmed. “I see. So he’s either not into me at all, and using some imaginary girl to spare my feelings as he’s changed his mind about me. Or, he’s in love with Chrissy, maybe even carrying on some kind of fling behind her boyfriend Jason’s back.”

“That’s just a theory,” Robin added, her energy wild. “If anything, this has opened up even more questions. We need more leads. Maybe Chrissy herself; she looks fragile. I can get that nut to crack. Let’s get her in the girls’ bathroom on Monday. Or wait...where does she live?

“Woah,” Steve held up his hands. “I hate to douse water on this fire, but have you thought about sitting down with the guy and actually asking him what’s going on? Like a proper, adult conversation?”

Rose and Robin looked at each other, and burst out laughing. “Are you mad?” Rose said between gulps of air. “What am I going to say? Eddie, I may have known you for less than two weeks but i’ve developed a raging crush on you, and after secretly interrogating your old friends using very shady contacts outside of school-”

“Hey, i’m not shady!”

“Correction, using very unorthodox contacts outside of school, i’ve compiled a history of your love life, and think you might be carrying on an affair with your middle school crush. Can you confirm or deny?”

Steve rubbed his face with his hand. “Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds insane. Maybe you could just say: I like you, I think you might like me, do you wanna go out sometime? That’s how I've always asked girls out. Maybe with a little embellishment, but it’s not difficult.”

“He already declined coming into my house and said he didn’t want to be a lying cheat, what am I supposed to do, beg?” She argued. “Oh god, i’ve accidentally willed this into being, haven’t I...i’ve always wanted to be Eowyn, Lady of Rohan. And now I am.”

She looked at their blank faces, and missed Hellfire and Eddie deeply. They would have put the metaphor together straight away, and known exactly what she meant. “It’s a character from Lord of the Rings. She falls in love with the hero, Aragorn, future King of Gondor, pining away for him as they battle the forces of evil. But he’s in love with an Elvish princess, Arwen Evenstar. Okay, there’s a little more to it, but it’s a tragic love triangle with swords and elf ears and stuff.”

“Back up,” Steve said. “We’re in a world where Eddie Munson is a fantasy hero with not one, but two beautiful women lusting after him, and I can’t even get a date? What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

Robin was eager to leap in. “Do you want the cliffnotes, or the full thesis?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. 

“Fuck it,” Rose stood up. “I’m not going to talk about Eddie Munson any more. We’re going to rent a movie, and consume so much sugar that we can’t see straight. Also, I don’t know if you drink, but I may have a sizeable stash of alcohol and a mother who always forgets the drinking age is twenty-one here, and not eighteen.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, that sounds good. My brain is fuzzy enough today, let’s double it up with booze.”

“I like that energy, Buckley,” she replied. “What movie do you want to watch?” Something high brow and intellectual? Foreign language?”

Robin laid back on the counter, knocking over the candy display. “I can’t take it tonight. Give me something trashy and brainless.”

Rose went out into the rows of tapes, scouting the shelves, fingers trailing over the VHS tapes. She left behind the documentaries and dramas, heading for the new and popular releases. She passed right over The Breakfast Club, stopping at some of the other tapes, grabbing a couple and coming back to a reclining Robin holding two aloft.

“Footloose, and Risky Business. What do you think?”

Robin gave her a big thumbs up.

Steve watched her with a strange look. “Dancing and hookers. Sounds like a good night. I was always kind of jealous of girl sleepovers...boys don’t get that.”

“You never had a sleepover?” Rose asked. “I haven’t had one in a long time. Unless you count sleeping with five other girls on a hospital ward. There was much less chance for booze and gossip, and the bleeping machines killed the vibe.”

“Not really,” Steve confessed. “Not outside of people crashing after a party, but then we’d all be hooking up. My parents weren’t big on hosting when I was a kid.”

“Come with us!” Rose said, spur of the moment. She’d had such a nice time in the video store, that she knew she didn’t want him to feel left out. It would be nice to bond with them over something other than her doomed love life, and she wouldn’t get to see him at school like she would Robin.

“Ooh, yeah!” Robin sat up quickly, grabbing the back of her head as if she were dizzy. “Come on, it will be fun! Haven’t you wanted to see inside Creel House?”

Steve shuffled from foot to foot, like he couldn’t make up his mind. “You’re parents won’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Rose reassured him. “The house is as big as the high school, so you can have a room to yourself. My mum would love to meet some of my friends, and my stepdad is as threatening as a puppy. He’ll keep out of the way. It’s the least I can do, after you went to all that trouble with your ex.”

He chewed it over, and broke out into a big smile. “Girls night it is! Give me an hour to lock up and grab some clothes from home, and I can come to your place.”

“Great,” she beamed. “It’s near the corner of Morehead and Cornwallis, opposite the abandoned playground.”

He grabbed the keys, tossing them into the air and catching them deftly. “Oh, everyone knows where that house is. I’ll see you there.”

Robin patted him on the cheek as they left the store. “What did I say, Stevie? You’re just one of the girls.”

---

The walk from Family Video back to Rose’s house was slow. Rose and Robin talked nonstop, pausing every few minutes to laugh until tears came to their eyes, Robin filling her in on all funny or boring facts she could summon on Hawkins and the townsfolk. 

“There,” Robin said, pointing at a dilapidated, rusty-roofed bus stop on Morehead, just a few minutes from home. “That’s where an owl attacked old Mrs Gillespie’s head, and tried to nest in her perm.”

“What?” Rose barked out. “How big was that woman’s hair?”

“That’s not even the best bit, it turned out she’d been wearing a hairpiece since the late 60s, and the goddamn owl clutched it in its talons and flew away with it.”

Rose covered her mouth with her hands. “No way.”

“Yes way, she even called the police station to report a theft!”

She doubled up and clutched her sides, laughing so hard it hurt her ribs. “Stop.”

“Chief Hopper, or Officer Hopper back then, asked if she wanted it reported for theft or actual bodily harm.”

Rose buckled over, laughing until she couldn’t breathe. “I think I might pee.”

That launched Robin into another fit of giggles, and the two of them clutched each other, stumbling the street like drunks, laughing even harder when a passing car swerved away and the driver looked like he should be calling the doctors at Pennhurst Mental Hospital. 

The girls arrived like that, swaying up the driveway and scaring away the birds from the trees, which of course made it even worse. As they stepped up on the porch, Robin craned her neck and whistled, looking up at the house.

“What are you, part of the Addams Family? Is Lurch gonna answer the door and offer me a cup of tea?”

“Yep, Uncle Fester will be along any minute.”

Robin snickered. “If you mean Steve, with all that hair he’s more like Cousin It.”

Rose fiddled with her bag and tried to find her keys, when the door clicked open and swung inward. Jerry stood in the doorway, in a striped shirt and a cardigan, smiling merrily at them.

“Welcome, come on in,” he said, arms beckoning inward. “Now the first thing we do in this house when we have visitors is put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Robin screeched like Mrs Gillespie’s criminal owl, and her face was so red she looked like she would burst a blood vessel any minute. All the tension Rose had accumulated dropped, and she was filled with mirth and happiness, unable to keep herself serious, laughing alongside her yet again.

Jerry scratched his greying head, and looked kind of worried. “Uh...Shirley? I think I might need your help. I don’t know what to do!”

A set of footsteps bounded down the stairs, and her mother’s panicked face came into view, softening as soon as she saw Robin and Rose gasping for breath and wiping tears from their eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, Jerry,” her mum said. “This is what teenagers are like when they gather in packs. They’re like Gremlins fed after midnight. You girls haven’t been drinking already, have you?”

“Nope,” Rose asserted. “Just high on life.”

Mum’s blue eyes - same as Rose’s, one of the only features they had in common - narrowed. “Hmm. Well come on in, let me put the kettle on.”

The hilarity began again, until the adults in the house went from amused to slightly irritated. They made it inside eventually, Robin cooing over the period features in the house, the sweeping stair and fireplace, high ceilings and turn of the century architecture. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs Gruber,” she said, gathering herself together. “I’m Robin Buckley. Rose’s friend from English class. You’re house is amazing. It’s so gothic and bohemian at the same time, I love it.”

Mum looked so genuinely pleased she almost vibrated with happiness. “Thank you, Robin. You’re welcome any time. God knows we can barely find each other in this house as it is, we probably wouldn’t even notice you!”

Rose stepped in, patting her mother on the back, trying to butter her up. “On that note, I may have promised that another friend can stay over too. Is that alright?”

Mum nodded, blonde hair bobbing about her face. “Of course. WIll she want to stay in the attic room too?”

“ He , actually.” Rose said confidently. “Steve is Robin’s best friend, they work at the Family Video together.”

Jerry clutched his chest in the background, like he might have a stroke, but her mother was totally unfazed. “It isn’t some sort of menage a trois, is it?”

“Bloody hell, no,” Rose said loudly. “He’s more like one of the girls. Honestly, it's mortifying that you would ask me that.”

Her mother merely smiled. “Oh, stop. You’re nineteen in a few weeks, not a little child. If this Steve wants to stay, he can stay. We can make up the guest room at the back of the house, can’t we, Jerry.”

He’d gone pale, but nodded dutifully. “Yes, Shirley. What a...great idea.”

Mum ordered a pizza while Rose gave her friend the tour, pointing out all doors that shouldn’t be opened, bits and pieces of the house that might snap or fall off at any minute, or wobbly floorboards, as they were still in the middle of restoring the long-abandoned place to its former glory.

When Steve pulled into the driveway an hour later, Rose ran out onto the porch to greet him, a bottle of Jerry’s beer in hand. Steve came into the house to a round of cheers; he seemed to love being greeted by a bunch of adults and teenagers eating pizza in front of a tiny TV in a huge sitting room, the music from Footloose blaring on the little speaker. Another hour and another drink - or two - later, and they all hung out in Rose’s room in the attic.. 

“No way!” Robin cried out from her spot on the end of Rose’s bed. “I’m an only child too! All three of us, that’s weird.”

Steve was laid out on a beanbag, with a girly peach-schnapps based cocktail made by her mother in his hand, sipping loudly and trying not to poke out his eye with a little yellow cocktail umbrella. “Mmm...but...would you actually want a sibling? Aren’t they kind of annoying?”

“Maybe,” Rose said, laying on the head of the bed, her feet propped up against the wall and covering the poster-face of Indiana Jones. “But i’m just glad to be here, eating pizza and drinking Tia Maria with you guys. Just happy to be alive, you know? Heart still beating. Life still moving forward. Living in a place so quiet and unremarkable that I know I can just...rest for a bit. You know what I mean?”

“Oh boy,” Robin groaned. “Sure is normal in Hawkins. Nothing ever happens here.”

Steve giggled, high pitched. “She’s right. But you live in a murder house...how can you say nothing happens here?”

Rose rolled right-side up without spilling a drop of her coffee liqueur-martini concoction. “Oh. I forgot. I don’t really know about the murder. Didn’t want to ask.”

“Really? Robin screeched. “I’d have to know.”

Rose hummed. “Maybe someone was pushed down the stairs? Stabbed in the kitchen, with a knife? Or maybe just whacked over the head in this attic with a lead pipe? Yep, that’s right, I live inside a real-life Cluedo. Just wonderful .”

“The Creel murder was brutal,” Steve explained. “It...woah, what the heck is happening with the lights?”

Rose opened her eyes. The bulbs in her room were malfunctioning one by one, the lamps and ceiling light blinking on and off. “Oh, it happens all the time. Dodgy electrics, you see.”

“That makes sense,” Robin reasoned. “This place is ancient.”

Steve wasn’t convinced. He took another sip of his cocktail, watching the lights, pointing at them. “They’re flickering in a line..see? One, two, three. It’s a sequence...like something’s moving across the room!”

“Oooh,” Robin made a creepy noise. “It’s a gh...a, a ghost."

“Hold on.” Rose slurred. “J’accuse! You are drunk. There’s no such thing as ghosts."

Steve was in his own world, watching the lights. “It reminds me of...of something...can’t remember what though. But it’s important. Very important.”

Robin sat up, out of the blue, wild-eyed from the schnapps. “I can’t take it anymore! I’m gay, alright? Stop with the questioning. I like girls. Are you happy now?”

The silence was thick, punctuated by the faint, pulsing hum of the flickering lights. 

“Uhh...Rob, I know that already,” Steve said. “Did you know that Rose?”

“Nope,” she replied casually. “But it’s all good. More boys for me that way, aren’t there?” She peered up at her wall of posters. “But Simon Le Bon will always be first and foremost in my heart. In fact, I swear off all men, be they international rockstar or high school guitarist. But Robin, are you good? Did you want to talk about it?”

Her friend slumped back down on the bed. “Huh. Maybe I just had that argument in my own head. Bloody hell, i’m drunk.”

Steve giggled yet again. “ Bloody hell. You sounded like Rose. English cursing is weird. Go on, go on, say something.”

Rose pointed at the posters and thought about it deeply. “I’m not a bloody circus freak, you wanker.”

“Hah!” Robin laughed. “That’s like a jerk-off.”

“Hey, you’re just taking the piss now, aren’t you.”

“I know that one!” Steve added. “More!”

Rose grumbled. “I’m too bereft and miserable to think of anything else. You twat.”

“Wait,” Robin called out. “You said twat pronounced like cat , not twat like what .”

“That’s what it is, love.” Rose downed the bitter dregs of her martini and put the cup on her bedside table. “I wish that ghost would bloody keep still, the lights are hurting my eyes.”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s coming toward my beanbag chair. Hey, is the ghost single? This may be the closest I've been to being touched since Nance dumped me for Jonathan freaking Byers.”

“We’re so pathetic,” Robin agreed. “Also, I think I might like a girl in band. But I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

“Details please,” Rose requested. “But I think I might need some fresh air, should we open a window?”

Robin crawled off the bed and over to the stained glass dormer, pulling herself up with her fingers on the pane. “Wait a minute, there’s a playground twenty yards away, right? Let’s go on the swings! I always want to play on the swings. Why is it that you get to a certain age and you're told that all delight and whimsy must die, and you can’t play anymore? They should make playgrounds for adults.”

“Robin,” Steve chipped in. “It’s midnight, it’s cold, and we’re wasted. Oh, and we’re also in our PJs. So that’s a brilliant idea, let’s do it!”

Their midnight excursion was a disaster, crashing down two flights of stairs with bottles of alcohol in hand and slippers on their feet, whispering so loud they would wake the dead, let alone Rose’s mother and stepfather. But they made it out into the moonlight, laughing like idiots and running across the deserted street, making for the rusty swings.

And if Rose felt the wilting stems of cut flowers crunch under her slippered feet, and noticed blotches of shadow-dark petals on the sidewalk, then by Sunday morning it had completely slipped from her drink-addled memory, along with Steve’s recollection of the flickering lights.

---

Eddie

Eddie was a good musician, and he knew it. It wasn’t false modesty, he’d spent years learning to play and practising all hours of the night and at weekends, an outlet for his restless energy and creative brain. Music kept the buzzing in his head away, and calmed him down in a way nothing else could, except maybe weed. But nearly as important as hours of practice, he had that something people often searched for but couldn’t describe, the thing that drew the eye and kept an audience hooked. The rest of Corroded Coffin were good too, and Gareth was a demon on the drumset, but they were still a garage band. Decent, on time, in tune, and doing a damn good job of covering their favourite songs. 

But today? Practice was doomed from the start. Whatever magic he usually summoned to give him skill and stage presence when he played was completely fucking absent.

“Get it together,” Gareth cried out, his drumbeat faltering and the whole band trailing off into silence. “Your timing is so off. It’s like your racing to the end of the song, and this is goddamn Fade to Black , a fucking ballad. It might be Metallica, but it’s not thrash metal.”

“Alright, no need to be a dick,” Eddie snapped, looking down at the lump of plastic in his hand. “Jesus H Christ. I’ve broken another pick.”

Chris scoffed. “What is that, three? I’ve got a spare, but it's my last one.”

He reached into his back pocket, fishing out a black pick and pressing it into Eddie’s hands. Eddie took it gratefully, eyes directed at the chipped concrete floor of Gareth’s garage. “Thanks, man.”

“You’d better not be this bad at the Hideout on Tuesday,” Gareth warned, pointing at him with his drumstick, making the wooden implement look threatening. “If we’re gonna do a new slower set, we have to nail it. Bev won’t let us keep playing forever, not unless we actually bring in some customers. Or at least, not drive the existing ones away.”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Sorry, alright? I promise i’ll bring the good stuff on Tuesday. You know me, Gare. I’m usually on this. Today, i’m just...off.”

His friend raised a sarcastic brow, a smug expression plastered over his face. “Off. Is that what they call it now? Dude, just forget about the girl for a weekend. Obsession is not a good look when trying to score.”

Eddie looked up, pacing Gareth’s garage with its fluorescent overhead light, nearly tripping on an amp cable. “Don’t say it like that. I am not just looking to score , man. You sound so sordid.”

“ Oh ,” Gareth taunted. “So you don’t want to bone her, just go to a tea party together. In that case, can I take a shot?”

Eddie advanced on him, teeth clenched together. “I'm one second away from smashing this guitar over your head, Emerson. If your mom wasn't so nice about us using the garage, i’d have done it already.”

Jeff stepped in to view, putting a hand to Eddie’s chest. “Easy. Easy, dude. He’s just making a point, though it was kind of a gross one.”

“Yeah,” Gareth chipped in again, sat comfy behind the shield of his drum set. “Point made. Why don’t you invite her to see us play on Tuesday? That way you’re actually making progress , and asking her out. And maybe if you think she’s going to be at the shoe, you might actually put in some practice and try not to suck.”

Chris sucked in a breath, watching the guys’ drama unfold, rhythm guitar poised in his hands. 

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” Jeff added.

After a week of intense longing and subtle flirting, Eddie was a goner. Rose McAllister was not just the pretty face that appeared in Hellfire from nowhere, she radiated goodness. Observant, accepting, warm and thoughtful. Starkly different from the girls he’d usually fallen for. And on top of that, she was a fantasy nerd with a voracious taste in exploring other worlds through the written word, and had the soul of a poet. He’d been himself around her, and somehow he’d not scared her off yet, and that was a rare thing...non-existent, actually. She knew about his trailer, his criminal dad, and his dealing, and she still wanted to be around him. But last night when he dropped Rose off at home, things got...weird.

She’d listened to W.A.S.P and Sabbath and Metallica, not put off by his kind of music, and they’d talked and smiled and flirted, until he got to her driveway and she invited him inside. His heart fucking jump-started and sparks fizzled in his fingertips at that, but he’d made a promise to Uncle Wayne not to go in that house, and he intended to keep it. Eddie had made a mess of explaining it, and she ran off. He had to course-correct with Rose, before he veered off a cliff and she never talked to him again. Eddie had lost out on so much - his mom, an opportunity to be a rockstar, his father’s love, a normal graduation - he’d be damned if he let the girl slip through his fingers.

“Okay,” he said, making up his mind. “I’ll ask her to the show. Like...a date. Maybe go out after.”

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. “Live long and prosper, my friend. Good luck.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then at least you know.”

“I don’t think i’m gonna be able to concentrate right now,” he said. “I need a cigarette. Maybe a joint.”

“Hey,” Gareth shouted, “Mom has a no-tolerance policy, remember? Don’t light up til you get home.”

Eddie groaned. “Fine. Oh god...what if she says yes ?”

Gareth gave him a strange look again. “Then you fucking celebrate having a girlfriend, and start going out on dates and shit. That’s not exactly a problem, man.”

Eddie turned his frazzled mind to his Warlock guitar. He struck the opening few chords of Wild Child , the first metal song he’d introduced to Rose. Maybe he could play it for her on Tuesday.

“You’ll need money,” Chris piped up out of nowhere. “My sister’s boyfriend is always paying for her movie tickets, and burgers and shakes, and a corsage at Homecoming. Being a boyfriend is expensive.”

“Shit, I think you’re right, man.”

Eddie had the means to earn, even if it was a little less than legal. But when he had money, it tended to drain away pretty quickly: guitars, clothes, concert tickets, running his monster of a van and helping Wayne with the bills. 

Rose had never given off the impression of wealth, but he hadn’t forgotten that she lived in literally the biggest mansion in town, and had seen far more of the world than Eddie ever had. If he was going to do this right, he’d have to put some money together. And if he needed more cash, there was only one place to get it.

---

Lovers Lake glistened through the treeline as Eddie’s van sailed down the road, getting closer with each minute, until he emerged in a clearing. A decent-sized white lakehouse sat on the northern shore, with a separate boat house and a little jetty stretching out into the lake. He had to admit this part of Hawkins was pretty, surrounded by nature and autumn coloured trees. 

He killed the engine and the blaring noise of Judas Priest faded into nothing, leaping from the van and slamming the door. By the time he walked up the front steps, a face had already appeared in the doorway.

“Eddie, my good friend.” Reefer Rick bumped his fist and clapped him on the back, ushering him into the tidy, plainly decorated home. “Wasn’t expecting you till next week. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rick Lipton was six three at a slouch, with the physique of a football player who’d let himself go. His long hair and beard gave him a hippy kind of air, only heightened by the cloud of weed that floated out the kitchen door, a joint lit and perched on the kitchen table’s ashtray.

“Hey, Rick. Good to see you,” Eddie began. “I know i’m not usually back within a couple of weeks, but I was hoping to shift more product.”

The great big hippy pulled at his beard, head cocked to the side. “Munson Junior, scaling up. Given up on high school yet, ready to earn something more than pin money from selling football stars and prom queens weed?”

Rick passed over the joint; Eddie took a drag gratefully, twitching and waiting for the calm to settle into his bones. They sat in silence for a moment, looking out the big window toward the lake, with a little row boat bobbing up and down on the jetty. 

“Nah, still in school,” he said, blowing out smoke and handing it back. “Not looking to get myself in more trouble, I just need to shift a little more this month, make a few extra bucks.”

“So not just here for pleasure. You should drop by sometime just to play pool and have a few beers. Maybe sit out by the lake. It’s nice here in the summer, real pretty.”

Eddie gave him a deadpan look. “It’s October, man. It’s cold out. And besides, what is it that you always say? Pleasure is the business.”

Rick grinned around the joint, smoke spilling from his lips. “Right on. Listen, i’m a little lower than usual. You can have another five ounces, but it’s bennies that i’m sitting on right now. Ket too.”

He kept a smile on his face, trying not to let his disappointment show. Rick had been distributing to him for a year or two. He was a contact of his dad’s before dad split town after fucking up a robbery and getting involved in a shooting. When shit hit the fan for Eddie and he needed cash, no reputable business in Hawkins wanted to employ a brash metalhead with a criminal family and no high school diploma. He’d caved and come to Rick for work. Dealing paid well, but he was this fucking close to being busted by the cops, on more than one occasion. And being a drug dealer with a moral compass absolutely sucked . Not to mention that the punishment for pushing hard drugs like ketamine and bennies was greater than possession of a little weed. 

“I’m not sure, Rick,” he said, grabbing the back of his neck. “Weed for high school kids is one thing, but I don’t want to be responsible for a bunch of strung out kids getting hooked on ket.”

“Ket and bennies have a greater profit margin,” Rick said, with a shrug. “More cash for less effort. Smart business.”

“I could take a little more, but not much. With Hopper gone, Chief Powell is on my ass. I can’t risk getting cautioned again, man.”

“So be it, Junior. Six ounces of weed, six bottles of bennies, six of ket. Six, six, six, the devil’s number...you’re into that Iron Maiden shit, right? That’s a pretty metal deal, endorsed by Satan himself.”

Eddie laughed. “Coming from you, that’s funny. Nothin’ but sixties rock, like you’re a Vietnam vet something. Weren’t you like ten in the sixties?”

“Shit, you sound more like your old man every day, Junior.”

Eddie’s jaw twitched, and his foot tapped against the pale lino of Rick’s orderly kitchen. “Just a chip off the old block, huh. Another piece of shit Munson, cheating and stealing his way through life with a smile on his face and a string of casualties in the rearview mirror.”

Rick’s easygoing face fell, like he was troubled. “Didn’t mean nothing by it, kid. I know you’re not like your dad in the ways that count. Anyways, what do you need this extra money for? New guitar, new ride, or something?”

Eddie leaned on the back of a kitchen chair, and chewed on his own hair like a goddamn cat. “Not exactly.”

“I know that face, brother. Seen it many a time. It’s a woman, ain’t it?”

A goofy smile came over his face. “Yeah.”

“Taking her out somewhere nice?”

“I’m hoping to. I haven’t asked her out yet, not properly. But i’m going to next week at school. Just need to find the right time to do it, I guess.”

Rick looked down his nose at Eddie, appraising him in one glance. “So this shit isn’t even in the bag, yet? What have you done so far?”

Eddie looked from left to right, like he was physically searching for an answer. “Do you mean...you know....like, sexually?”

“Hell’s bells, kid. That is not what I meant. Have you wooed the lady yet? Made your intentions known?”

Eddie’s anxiety went from nought to sixty in about three seconds. “I...don’t know. I mean, I think so? We’ve talked, listened to music...oh god. What if she just wants to be my friend? What do I say? What do I do ?”

Rick slammed his elbows on the kitchen table and buried his head in his hands. “I know it’s the eighties, man, but chivalry ain’t dead. What’s this girl like? She a rocker type like you?”

“Rose?” Eddie said with a sigh, picturing her instantly, heart going soft. “No, she’s no type at all, she’s unique. Funny, open-hearted, seriously smart. And beautiful...she doesn’t seem to know how beautiful she really is. I don’t understand why she’s giving me the time of day. I keep expecting something to happen, like some big-shot prom king or college kid is gonna turn up and sweep her off her feet.”

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Rick said bluntly. “Shelve all this casual shit. None of this wait til Monday ,or i’ll flirt a little longer and see what happens . Go over there right now, and tell her you’re damn crazy about her. You’ll want to bring her a gift too.”

Eddie sat up straight, feeling a surge of energy course through his veins. “Gift. Right. Wait...what kind of gift?”

“Depends on the girl, my man. But if in doubt, go with flowers.”

“Flowers,” Eddie repeated. “I can do that.”

Rick smiled, taking another drag from his joint, blowing out the smoke with a big grin. “Well what are you waiting for? Drugs aren’t gonna be ready til Monday, so unless you’d rather hang out with your supplier on a Saturday night, go and get the girl.”

Eddie leapt up, tripping over his chair. His jean chain caught on the chair leg as he set it back up, and he crashed about the kitchen like a clumsy foal on wobbly legs. Some mug or teacup smashed in the background and he apologised over and over, making everything worse as he tried to pick it all up.

“Get out, kid.” Rick waved him off.

He stopped long enough at the door to shout at the laughing guy inside. “Thanks Rick, I owe you one!”

---

His rusty old van rattled and roared as he sped down the backroads of Hawkins, foot heavy on the gas pedal; he was a man with a mission, a knight on a quest to win the heart of a fair maiden, and nothing could stop him now. Rick was right, he’d have to pledge his heart to the lady and seek her favour. 

Except he could hardly arrive with four hundred bucks of drugs hidden in the back of his van, reeking of weed. Pit stop necessary, a side quest, if you will. He raced home, sniffed all the clothes in his ‘clean’ heap and changed into the least creased shirt, and stashed the pills and baggies in some drawer in the hallway, under a load of old tins and spare tools, and other junk they’d never use.

Half an hour later he ran into the grocery store, five minutes before closing, sprinting down the aisles seeking the display of cut flowers he knew he’d seen last week. He startled the customers, but right at the end of the aisle he spied his prize, the treasure at the end of the dungeon crawl...or wait, was Rose the treasure? She wasn’t an object , but she was precious. God, he was nervous. 

Only a few bunches of flowers remained, but which ones did he get? There were pink ones and red ones, little ones surrounded with white baby’s breath. The big sunflowers were bright and cheerful, but he wasn’t sure about them...now that he looked at them up close, what was up with sunflowers? How were the heads that big? They were like a baby’s head, and that was a weird image. Fuck it, not the sunflowers. 

An older lady in a store apron walked by, and he seized upon her, running toward her and startling her.

“Jesus, sorry,” he held up his hands. “Help, please help. I need to buy flowers for a girl, and I don’t know which ones to get. Wait...flowers have meanings , right? Like there’s this secret language that Victorian women used to be into? What if I chose pretty flowers and it means sorry your dog died and she hates me forever?”

The lady’s panic slowly evaporated, and she walked him over to the flowers. “Okay, let’s take a look. The roses are pretty. There’s nothing classier than a Rose.”

He smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. Wait, if her name is literally Rose, does that change things? Is it too obvious?”

She shook her head, wrinkles creasing in the corners of her eyes. “I wouldn’t say so.”

“Perfect. Thank you, ma’am,” he shook the woman’s hand, and grabbed the best bunch of red roses he could find. They were still grocery store flowers, one of them slightly wilting, but he could throw that one out.

By the time he’d bought the roses and approached Creel house, the energy that sustained him was seriously flagging, and all kinds of possibilities were swarming in his head. 

What if she wasn’t there? What if her mom, the Balrog, answered the door? He supposed it was only fair that he slew some demons on his way to the fair maiden, but he couldn’t exactly pull out a broadsword and run through her mom. Or the stepdad...what if he was the kind to own a shotgun, and decided buckshot was the best way to get Eddie the freak off his lawn?

Heart pounding, he pulled up within sight of the house, twenty yards down the street. It was fancier than he remembered, an intimidating castle, ready to be sieged. The lights were on, car parked in the driveway; at least someone was home. Maybe he should climb the veranda and deliver them to her window. Shit, he didn’t know which one was hers.

“Time to fight, Munson,” he muttered to himself. “Roll the dice, and pray to Ozzy for a nat 20.”

He grabbed the flowers and went for the door handle, but had to shield his eyes from bright headlights instead. Bright headlights turning into the driveway of the Creel house. The car’s door slammed shut, and Eddie froze like a deer in headlights.

Steve fucking Harrington. The King, The Hair, or whatever dipshit nickname the gullible kids of Hawkins High like to call him, was walking up Rose’s driveway with a goddamn overnight bag in his hand.

No sooner than his face scowled and mouth dropped open, Rose came out the door. She called out, loud and happy, throwing up her arms in the air like she was so pleased to see Harrington she couldn’t contain it. Within the space of exactly six heartbeats, Harrington dragged his bag into the house and Rose closed the door behind him.

What the fuck?

Harrington was a year below him through Middle and High school; enough of a jock enough to be naturally opposed to Eddie and his band of freaks, but not violent or mean enough to be a real enemy. The guy was a bit of an asshole, and when he and Tommy H got into the basketball cult, they’d grown insufferable, pulling pranks on everyone. Come to think of it, they’d shoved Gareth into a girls bathroom stall in his freshman year and locked him in. 

How in the hell did Rose know the guy? And more importantly, what was he doing with an overnight bag in her house? Maybe she’d just hedged her bets and found herself the first prom king that came along. Someone better suited. Rich family, high school diploma, Hollywood hair. 

Eddie waited thirty minutes to be sure, but Steve never came out. With each minute his heart sank lower, until the night was pitch black and he was freezing cold in the van’s cab. Turning on the engine was a little act of defeat, an admission that he’d taken too much damage, killed before the campaign had even begun. And when he rolled out of Morehead, past the creepy old playground, he threw the roses out the driver's window, watching the splash of dark red fade in the rearview mirror.

[lilliesofinspirationvalley]

Cunning Hares Headcanons

First of many posts sharing my personal interpretations on ZZZ characters and their dynamics!

Nicole Demara - 27-28, Mexican/Indian, trans woman, sapphic

Anby Demara - 19, Filipino, demigirl (enby Anby rights), aroace spectrum, definitely has autism.

Billy Kid - 27-28 (at least with physical/mental age… there’s a very reasonable chance he’s been active for a long or short period of time), Argentenian (idc if he’s a robot, he’s latino in my heart), bisexual, inherently got some genderqueerness by being a robot but primarily male/masc, and sentience gave him adhd /hj

Nekomata (Nekomiya Mana) - 15, Black/Japanese, sapphic, potentially has adhd and/or autism (she hasn’t really looked into it much)

Billy doesn’t like rock music (that much anymore) because it was all the Sons of Calydon played on the road. All the time. So he (understandably) needs a break from it.

While we’re on the subject, I’m so curious about classical music putting him to sleep. Does he mean standard “lullaby songs” like Clair de Lune or Sugarplum Fairy? Or would this guy conk out to a Dies Irae? Classical/orchestral music has. A very very wide range.

This is technically more related to Sons of Calydon, and we can’t really say who he does/doesn’t know in the gang yet (Caeser for sure, most likely Piper— Burnice and Lighter are kinda up in the air, but they probably know our silly android man too… and I’m betting Lucy is the newest member? There’s a chance they could know each other— like she joined and he left a little after). But!!! He was often sent out to get booze for the gang because everyone mistakes Piper for a high schooler. Even with a proper ID.

So far the only instance of Billy’s guns “talking” a la Liz and Patty Thompson is from his combat promo video and that’s it… I really really hope we get more elaboration on that at some point. But for now! He totally named them: Annie (the more demure personality) and Jane (the less enthused one)

Unless canon reveals something that makes this completely go out the window… Nicole used to be a defense attorney. Because a briefcase as a weapon is a very lawyer coded trait, you need to have a pretty solid understanding of laws to run a business— especially more legally ambiguous ones like an odd job agency, and y’know. Law school debt.

It’s a big part of why she involves herself in representing Canvas Street against Vision as well!! Though she’s not an attorney again by a long shot— for one, she’s on the prosecuting side against Vision, and she lost her attorney license years before starting Gentle House. But the point still stands that Elle Woods, Mia Fey, and Phoenix Wright walked so Nicole Demara could run

Most humanoid/half(?) thirens are born with animal ears and tails— but there are several genetic exceptions to this standard. Nekomata, for example, has cat ears… and cat feet. Without her special boots and mechanical tails to keep her balanced, it’s incredibly difficult for her to even stand up. In other words, she’s a disabled icon.

Understandably, it takes her a long time to feel comfortable/safe enough in places to keep bare feet. Fortunately (or unfortunately, if you’re an embarrassed little teenage thiren), all of the Cunning Hares can pick up Nekomata and carry her around no problem! They’re more than happy to do this (and/or just get stuff for her) if she doesn’t have her boots on at home.

Nekomata gets very snuggly and affectionate when she’s asleep. She likes to lay with all her teammates at different times, but the most frequent victim is Billy. I mean c’mon, he’s a walking heater.

Billy: We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!

Nekomata: Nope!!! Don’t remember!!! Didn’t happen!!

Anby occasionally gets ptsd nightmares from her days in the defense force. It used to be a lot more severe when she just joined Nicole… and by force of habit, Anby sneaks into her room the most. Billy and Nekomata catch her drinking tea in the middle of the night sometimes though, and promptly set up a pillow fort on the couch for everyone to hang out in so Anby doesn’t feel so alone.

Nicole: What are you guys doing making so much noise????

Billy: Shut your mouth and get in the pillow fort, Boss.

Nekomata has a collection of fidget items. It’s got every thing from puzzle cubes to random pieces of string. Honestly I could see her picking up crochet, kumihimo (cord weaving), and/or other textile hobbies to keep her hands busy.

The other three have all tried the flashlight thing™️ with her. It works a little too well (Like “Duke do you want the ball?” too well— she just flies across the room).

Anby, much like her interest in movies, has a very wide range of music she likes. It’s anybody’s guess as to what she’s listening to at a given time.

Nicole: Wow, Anby’s really focused right now… I wonder what she’s listening to?

Anby’s headphones: 🎶 Life is like a hurricaaaane here in! Duckberg! 🎶

Nicole has so much rabbit themed stuff. Plushies, little figures, definitely some scarves and hats, etc. Most of them are gifts from people she’s known in the past, along with the other CH of course.

Nicole and Nekomata would play Animal Crossing together, Billy would freaking love the Kirby series, and I think Anby would really enjoy Miitopia/Tomodachi Life

Billy’s definitely the most proficient gamer of the team. Fighting games, racing games, what have you… he’s won most matches, sometimes without even meaning to. Nicole and Nekomata argue he’s “cheating” because he’s literally got a computer for a brain… and if Billy responds with something akin to “git gud,” his ass is getting tackled.

We know from when Billy appears at the arcade after you played a little, he supposedly has moments where he’s “cursed” and doesn’t play as well with the CH— I don’t know if performance anxiety has anything to do with it (he’s really not the type)— but given Nicole’s association with divination, Nekomata’s inherent connection to yokai and Japanese supernatural, and the CH’s luck motif in general… it’s very funny to think that they “manifest” periods where they can beat him at games. I think if Billy found out, he’d be a little miffed they were trying to nerf him but… honestly it’s really funny and he’s a good sport. They’ll probably stop once he actually knows, though. Anby has literally no part in this, she just finds it entertaining /hj

Anby has to try a burger from literally every restaurant she goes to if it serves them. Practically a connoisseur at this point, though it’s rare for her to find a burger she doesn’t like (unless it’s like. Raw meat or something).

Forgive me for the Soul Eater coming out again, but I’m so fascinated by Nekomata’s socks saying tsubaki on them. And the flower buttons and stuff in her design in general. The flower in general representing devotion. Red camellias (tsubaki in Japanese) represent being in love, or perishing with grace. Yellow represent longing. White represent waiting. “A flower without fragrance. When the petals fall, it is silent and tragic.” There’s so much we can unpack about all of this with our catgirl.

Anby and Billy do it the most, but they all have silly quips of quoting different movie/tv show/internet media lines. They all kinda learn about different stuff through this osmosis.

Nekomata was the most hesitant to warm up to Billy because he reminds her a lot of Miguel Silver. I know we don’t have much about Silver in canon, but… Very competent and can be genuinely threatening, but also a lot more emotional and sentimental than most people would probably expect. I was surprised and kinda endeared when Silver was introduced sobbing and all dramatic as he spoke lmao.

I don’t think she fears a fallout like RFG happening again (at least, it’s not a major anxiety). The fact the CH committed to helping Canvas Street without a second thought is enough proof to her that they’re really not the types to be morally corrupted and all that. But… running into someone who reminds you of a past relationship— but who’s like. Better morals or more well-adjusted or whatever. That feels. So weird. It makes Nekomata think about what could’ve been. Why did her adoptive father become such a hypocrite— how is a robot more sincere about values than he was?

She definitely warms up to Billy a lot more by Ch 3/Ballet Twins stuff. I think it’d be sweet if she talked about her grief with him— Nicole and Anby too, tbh. Even if she separated herself once things weren’t sitting right with her (which takes so much internal strength), Silver was still her dad. She probably found out about his fate in the news broadcast at the very beginning of the game…

Yeah that's definitely also another reason why she clings to Billy the most in her sleep too. She misses her papa,,, and you tend to go towards the familiar and all that.

Anby keeps a small journal of letters to Soldier 11 (or Eleven, as I like to call her). Movie reviews/analysis, reports on commissions, snippets of her domestic life with the others… it acts more like a diary than actual letters she’ll send out. But Anby truly wishes she can share all of the joy and freedom she’s found with Eleven someday. Both in all the stories and helping her experience it too,

I’m a firm believer Anby and Eleven are twins— Burnice definitely has a connection to them too given her own little pack thing… but she also has more blondish hair and looks/acts a little older than them??? So probably not exact triplets or maybe not even biological sisters. But some sort of Huey, Dewey, and Louie grouping would be hilarious

I feel like Nicole is. Very into astrology, horoscopes, tarot cards... online quizzes. We know from one of Anton's trust events that she dabbles in fortune telling for quick cash, but honestly I feel like the others gotta hold her back from doing that more often because it drives them nuts. She's tried to get them in on it but... they're not very good at it. Anby's descriptions are just movie tropes, Nekomata gets distracted by the cards and other trinkets used, and Billy can't keep all the symbolism straight for the life of him.

Nekomata clearly has some education, likely from the RFG/potentially her orphanage... but given she's a street kid, even now (more lowkey) with the CH, it might be a minute until she gets into high school. I don't know if she'd even be that interested in school... probably curious to try it but she'd get so bored so fast lmao. Regardless, Nicole and the others would probably want to help her enroll.

Nekomata when socializing and learning stuff in class: Ok yeah! I can get used to this! Nekomata when she has to do homework: WTF THIS SUCKS

But she more or less gets straight As like the smart lil kitty she is. She asks the others for help/overview fairly often, though.

“Billyyyyyy” 

“I’m not an generative AI, I can’t do your homework for you. Besides that’ll get you into loads of trouble for. Several reasons.” 

“I’m not asking that!! You know more about Outer Ring than I do— can you check if my research for this project is accurate so far?” 

“… Oh yeah, sure!”

Anby is usually the first person to be ready to leave, while Nicole is… the last. You can tell these two are sisters because they always bicker about it /lhj. (Note to myself to make an animatic of these two to this very fun song)

While the CH all share a tv and gotta chart out times for it, they also have group movie nights! Usually they’ll watch really bad movies they can all laugh at and make fun of together. This is where a good chunk of their inside jokes come from. 

Nicole loves to give Anby and Nekomata manicures! She would give them to Billy too, but whatever polish she tries will come off immediately. Anby and Nekomata tend to have theirs chip off fairly quickly too rip

Nekomata moved into Anby’s room when she joined the CH— they’re the youngest and Anby had the most space. While the two had a lot of tension in Ch 1, and some of that can still carry over sometimes, they’re actually pretty good roommates! 

Her whole scene with Billy in the prologue was her attempt at humor to cope with stress (plus finding Billy probably relieved her a lot)… but she struggles with knowing appropriate times. Given Anby has also joked about becoming a monster and tried to nom Billy’s hand (“Rawwwwr”), I don’t think this is too out there lol.

[bunshiftz]

˗ˏˋ 𝓫etter cr dr intro ˎˊ˗

basics ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

‹𝟹 name : madison jade (irl last name)

‹𝟹 nickname : medicine (only my sister is aloud to say this one)

‹𝟹 age : 16

‹𝟹 birthday : april 9 2009

‹𝟹 zodiac sign : aries

‹𝟹 mbti : enfp

‹𝟹 height : 5’5 ½

‹𝟹 nationally : canadian

‹𝟹 hobbies : baking, reading, sleeping, listening to music

‹𝟹 likes : baking, reading, hanging w/friends, kpop, cheesecake, doing my hair/nails/makeup, rainy days

‹𝟹 dislikes : loud noises, onions + mushrooms, PE, carbonation, being alone

appearance ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

random info୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⌞ my life ⌝

nothing really special, it’s basically still this reality but with tweaks to it. I go to school from 8:45 to 3:45, I live a minute from there but I’m still always late because a girl needs her beauty sleep. I have a group of friends that consist of my irl friends and characters I’ve scripted. We travel around together now that we have our licenses but there’s not much places to go in our little town.

⌞ home ⌝

I have two houses, the first is my childhood home that my dad built in 2010 (I lived in a separate garage with my fam for a year). I have my older sisters, old room. It’s in the basement, it has white walls with a bunch of pictures lining the walls with little polaroids of me and my friends. I have one of those metal bed frames that always squeaks but scripting out that it doesn’t is a lifesaver. my bedspread is almost always pink with thick blankets that keep me warm while I sleep. I have two pillows with a bunch of stuffies lining the top of the bed. I have a built in closet with all my clothes overflowing. I have my own bathroom down there too so I made it my own.

my second room is smaller than my other one but is still as cute. It’s basically the same but my mattress is on the floor instead of on a frame. I have a vanity where I do my makeup for school, or write my essays at. I have a smaller closet but it’s still overflowing with clothes (maybe even more so). I sadly don’t have my own bathroom but only me and my brother use it. this house is in the town where my parents work, it’s where my mom raised my older sister so she wanted me and my brother to have the more tight knitted school experience rather than a big high school experience.

⌞ school ⌝

my school is quite small compared to what you would see in a big city but it’s perfect for 200 hundred students. It’s a one floor, colourful school. the classrooms can get hot in the summer but the newer sections (the older parts of the school are from the ‘50s!) have air conditioning throughout. all of the teachers are chill, especially when it come to most things like dress code (we barely even have one) and just normal teenage things. we have a 3 period school day, but 5 classes, the first and last class last for 2 hours, while 2nd period is an hour and a half. the school is located in front of a lake so you best believe the daydreaming sessions I have in front of the windows are mostly about my life here (or my bed)!

star dividers - cafekitsune

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch. 53 - Galway Girl

Summary: Josie has another run in with the law which leads to another revelation. She reaches out to a Savior with the new info. Luke plays his violin. A beloved sassy Scotswoman stuns Josephine on her hunt for the innocent Scotsman. An Irish memory rattles Jo. She and Gerry have a HUGE discussion on many subjects. More comes to light about Megan's attack. Emotions go awry when Gerry learns the truth.

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, mentions of drugs and rape

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Salem, Massachusetts

March 22, 2022

The revelation of your ex-fiance's non-infidelity had your mind spinning as you carelessly sped down the freeway, stiff as a board with a white knuckled grip on the wheel and trying not to puke. Over and over, just as you had done 3 years ago, you began dissecting all the events of that painful day when you had awoke to the life altering text that you believed to have been from Gerry. A fabricated text to incriminate him, making it look like he had accidentally sent it to you instead of your sister which put her diabolical plan of entrapment all into motion of deeming him unfaithful and it had worked like a fucking charm. Still etched in your mind as if it were only yesterday, was the look of horror on Gerry's face when you found him in bed with Megan. A look that you now saw in a whole new light and you were so lost in that image that you did not notice the cop parked on the berm of the road, pegging you at 82 miles per hour.

The startling sirens brought you back to the present which you didn't even know where that was at the time, for you had just experienced one of those blackout moments where you didn't remember driving from point A to point B and wondered how you even did it without causing a wreck. You didn't have your seatbelt on either which you didn't realize until after you pulled over.

In your side mirror, you nervously watched the grumpy looking policeman approach your car, wishing it had been Luke because this time, you knew you couldn't cry your way out of it with being almost thirty miles per hour over the speed limit. Was he seriously unsnapping his gun holster???

"License and registration." the officer robotically requested as you rolled your window down.

You fumbled through your purse, then the glove box and handed him the items without question or argument, just wanting to get the humiliating moment over with and go.

He looked over the documents and then eyed you as he asked the usual rhetorical question. "Do you know why I pulled you over miss March?"

"Speeding I assume."

His reply was cocky as car after car sped by, taking advantage of the situation. "You assumed correct. 82 in a 55. Also I see you aren't wearing your seatbelt which is a law in every state other than New Hampshire which you are not in and your tail light is busted out as well which is a non-moving violation and a ticketable offense."

"Wait, what? How did that happen?? Can I go look?"

"You will need to remain in your vehicle while I go back and write up this ticket."

As soon as he was back in his cruiser, you immediately texted Jeffrey.

"I think u were right! Someone was in that car. My tail light is busted out and it wasn't when I was putting my bags in the trunk!"

About 30 seconds went by and he then replied. "Thx for the 411 darlin. Been thinkin bout it more since you dropped me off. Stowaway POS. Prob followed us to the junk yard too. He's toying with us. Busted the light as a warning. Ballsy fucker bit off more than he could goddamn chew. I'll find him and when I do, well I think you know how that will turn out. In the meantime, your best off to stay close to Craig. Sorry bout your trouble, Trouble😉 When you got time, bring your sweet self and that sweet ride to the shop and I'll get that taken care of for you asap. Least I could do for pissin you off. Talk more then."

"Thank u!! I'll text u later to let u know when I can come."

"You're very welcome doll. You can cum anytime."

You huffed and shook your head at his remark and before you could reply, he texted right back.

"Oh damn! Old habits die fucking hard. Told you I'd piss on the floor every now and then. Sorry for the comment. My bad."

You smiled and softly chuckled. "I'll let it slide. At least you're trying. Talk later."

"You rock girl. Later."

Stay close to Craig. Great. Now you had to haul all your stuff back to your apartment instead of going to your mom's as planned... for the time being anyways. You couldn't bring more trouble to her. Megan would surely remain in the hospital for quite sometime anyways and your mom would most likely take up residency in her room. Would they even be safe there though? Elizabeth sure wasn't. You then anxiously texted Luke.

"Hey. Can u please put a guard at Megan's door??? Just to be safe."

His reply was instant and shocking. "Already working on that Jo. No worries. I'm heading there in a few to speak with her as well since I was informed she is awake. Everything ok? Still pissed at me?"

You wanted to be but you just didn't have the energy anymore. "Thank u Luke. For everything. I'm fine. I just want my mom and sister to be safe right now. Please keep me updated."

You wanted to tell him so bad about the bar thugs since they were after him to begin with but you couldn't now that he was a cop. You just didn't know if you could trust him after knowing the little bit you knew about his agent days with Lee. Your list of loyal peers was growing thin anymore.

"I see you've deflected on my last question. I'm sorry things have to be this way. I really am Jo. I'm just trying to turn my life around but all I seem to be doing is making everyone hate me even more. Maybe it was a mistake to even come back here. I wanted to try to fix things and all I do is fuck them up even more. Suppose there's no reform for someone like me. Who am I to be some judge and jury? I'm a loner. Always have been. Better off that way...for everyone involved."

Luke was doing it again and at the worst possible time. Removing the armor and showing his softer side and that was why it was hard to stay angry with him. Just like Lee, he had a sordid past and had been through some bad shit. Knowing what Luke Sr. did to both Luke and Landy, defiling his own sons, was beyond comprehension to you so you couldn't even begin to imagine how that felt for the two wayward brothers. As you stared at your phone, not knowing how to reply to the heart on Luke's sleeve, you nearly jumped out of your skin when the officer appeared at your window, ticket in hand.

"I see that you're the late detective Brady's sister. Good man. So tragic. I am sorry for your loss."

Thinking he may decide to let you off with a warning, you smiled and hoped for the best. "Yes, I am. Thank you. Our family misses him so much."

"Your family, yes. I also am aware that that makes you Jason Morgan's sister. Not a good man, but you know that. He almost took you to the grave with him and here you are, speeding round town like he did on the bike as if you're something special."

"Ex...cuuuse me??!!"

"No, I won't excuse you like you probably thought I was going to just because of your family ties to the precinct."

Oh how you wanted to go all Betty White on him like she did in Lake Placid and call him Officer fuckmeat and then continuing on with her other snarky line of if I had a dick, this is where I'd tell you to suck it, but you would certainly be arrested this time if you did.

"Yeah well, I'm also detective Butler's ex- finacee and we're still very close. I'll be sure to tell him about this."

"I can see why it's ex. Lady, I don't care who you are. There won't be any preferential treatment here. Don't break the law. It's really not that hard. Here's your ticket. Have a good day Ma'am."

He handed you your expensive ass ticket with a court date for the following week and walked away as you sat with a gaping mouth.

"Asshole!" you grunted after you rolled up your window, then finally you were on your way, but before you drove off, you quickly texted Lee to tell him you would come to the cemetery but that you would be late. You didn't mention why though. It had nothing to do with the traffic stop and everything to do with the whopper of a secret that Megan confessed. As far as a reply to Luke, he would have to wait.

You called Gerry as you pulled up to the gates of the Kiriakis estate, but once again, he did not answer so you punched in the code for entry that only very few had. Those without the free pass would have to go through the whole rigmarole of identity verification and approval to be buzzed through, for Victor's security was understandably high with being a man of his nefarious stature and corresponding life. He may as well have been considered a celebrity. Of course ALL the other crime families of Salem were like that too.

The property was enormous and endless, consisting mostly of forestry, open country-like land and bayside access surrounding the mansion and one that did not know it well could easily get lost. It took you almost 5 minutes just to drive up the pine tree-lined path to the main house and then another minute to get back to the two story guest house where Gerry resided on the bay which was only a fraction in size of the stately manor. Even though Victor's fancy fortress had as many rooms as a 5 star hotel, Gerry cherished his privacy and wanted nothing to do with all servant bullshit and the tiresome walking involved in getting from room to room...and of course, papa Vic's business dealings. If the reserved detective could live like a hermit in a surfing shack on the beach, he would, for he loved the water and he had actually built one not far from the guest house that you were surprised he hadn't moved into already. It was more of a trailer located where all the good waves were for surfing and if he wasn't doing that, he was working on cars, one of his favorite pastimes. Maybe that's where he had been when he wasn't at the hospital visiting his father?

Once you reached the guest home, there were two cars parked in the front and neither were Gerry's.

You deciphered at least one to most likely be the maid or gardener, for Victor was OCD on the cleanliness and beauty of his grounds. As for the other, no clue. Maybe he had a girlfriend now? That could explain why he wasn't answering your calls.

After parking by the garage, you peaked in the window and saw Gerry's truck inside, so you headed up to the porch and rang the doorbell. There was no answer so you rang it once more and then glanced through the small window panel to see the television on, but no one was there.

"Gerry???!!" you shouted and knocked aggressively. "It's me, Jo!"

Another minute went by and no one came to the door. "Alright. " you sarcastically rationalized out loud as you took out the key you still had. "If you can walk right into my mother's home, I can do the same here."

You crept inside and quietly closed the door, then made your way to the TV, turned it off and called to him once more. "Gerry! Are you here??"

In the silence, you heard the toilet flush from the bathroom around the corner and then the door opened.

"Hallo?" a woman's familiar voice loudly questioned and then in walked Gerry's mother, gasping as she covered her mouth.

"Josephine darlin, in the name of the wee man!" the petite Gaelic woman with salt and pepper hair exclaimed in her strong Scottish accent.

Ironically, her name was Margaret just like your mother's and they both shared a son with Victor. She even had fiery hair like your mother once upon a time which was possibly what attracted Victor to her aside from the identical names and similar accents. The only difference was, she went by Margie and your mother went by Maggie. Margie lived in the Scottish Highlands and rarely visited the states. Gerry had usually went to see her instead, for he didn't like her braving the big Scotland airports alone such as Glasgow and Edinburgh, so you were just as stunned to see her as she was you. She probably came to support her son over Victor's heart attack which now made sense as to why Gerry had fallen off the grid, but it still pissed you off that he couldn't have sent you a simple text instead of ignoring you.

"Margie?? Oh my God is right!"

In the shared excitement, you both bee-lined to each other and embraced. You had surely missed her, for she had always made you feel like a part of her family. She was so kind-hearted and compassionate with a side of Scottish sass and she adored you. Needless to say, she was just as heartbroken as you and Gerry were when you and he had went your separate ways.

"I had no idea you were here Margie. Sorry for just walking in. I rang the bell and knocked but..."

"Oh, I tried to hurry but I was in the cludgie doin my jobby. It's a wee bit bowfin in there, so I would wait awhile if ye need to pee. It might make ye greet." she warned with a grin and a wink, for it literally meant she was taking a very smelly shit, one that would make you cry. She was usually quite frank about everything.

"I haven't been able to reach Gerry lately. When did you get here?"

"About tree days ago. I told my boy I was coming and there was nothin he could do about it so he flew all the long way to Glasgow and swooped me up in the sky on that fancy Kiriakis jet so I wouldn't have to fly alone. Ye know my Gerard, stubborn as an ox just like his Da. Oh goodness it is so guid tae see ye! Are ye well my darlin girl? Ye know I will always think of ye as my daughter no matter whit's happened."

You smiled and held her dishpan hands. "Of course I will always see you as a mother figure and I've certainly had better days."

"Ye do look a wee bit peely wally and ye been greetin. Yer een are red. Dinnae fash yersel. I won't tell."

"Dinner...what?" you giggled. "Sorry, my Gaelic sucks."

"It means don't worry. Nothin to be sorry about. Look who ye learned it from! Although Gerry knows the Celtic tongue, he tends to haver in the lowland Scot's language." she snarked with an eye roll. "But I suppose, like yersel, no one would understand him around here. His accent has weakened too. He tries to emphasize it more when I'm around and he thinks I don't notice the change but I suppose if I saw him more, it wouldn't seem so drastic now would it?"

"No, I suppose not. How is Edward? He didn't come?"

Her infamous Scottish sass surfaced about Gerry's stepfather. "Oh that old numpty craw. The eejit is probably sittin on his arse with his tap aff, wearin his baffies and clyping to the neebs while sippin on his uisge. He didn't want to come and be a proper crabbit around Gerry, but we all know it's because he don't take kindly to Victor and wouldn't be caught dead in his home."

"Have you went to see Victor?"

"HA!" she guffawed and rolled her eyes again. "I don't give a radan's arse about the old bawbag either but let's keep that between you and me. I'm only here to use the rich bastard's free amenities and to be here for Gerry because only the good Lord above knows why he loves that menace to society."

There was another difference between your mother and Margie. Your mom loved Victor. Margie despised him because he could never get over your mother. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Well, I would say your secret's safe with me but it's not like Gerry don't know how you feel. Speaking of, where is he? And.... who's cars are out front? Does he have other guests?"

"If yer hinting around to see if Gerry has some manky hen hiding under his bed, that would be a flat out naw. The only hen in his heart will always be the bonnie lass I'm lookin at, his Galway girl. One of the cars is a rental Gerry got for me so I can come and go as I please. Somebody has got to get the messages around here. Wasn't enough scran for a luch to nibble on. The other is Brady's car, ye know, the son who's name is strangely the same as yer mum's maiden name? or maybe it's Phillip's car? I lose track of all Victor's offspring anymore. All I know is one of his half brothers is here. The skinny malinky long legs and a braw lookin fella there in that picture on the stand. Looks like my Gerard when he was a lad."

You picked it up and chuckled. "Ahh, that would be Phillip, the youngest one. They have the same slanted smile and dimples. Is that where Gerry is? With Phil?"

"Aye, sorry, I don't know where my mind went whit all my haverin. Jetlag has me knackered, sticks with ye longer when yer thairis air a 'bheinn."

You tilted your head at her like a confused puppy. She usually used more of the Scot's English for you but would forget when she was rambling and would blurt out her witty words the way she spoke to Gerry because it was simply what she was accustomed to with being from the highlands. You compared it to playing a game of charades on guessing what she meant.

"Oh sorry darlin. I did it again. It means when yer over the hill. Anyways, Phillip's upstairs sleeping off the lagair. He and Gerry were off their trolley last night after visiting their dunderheid da. Phil got the boke. Poor lad. His heid's mince. He hit a pure whitey come morn. I told him not to have so many swallies but he was determined to keep up with Gerry. My son is out on the docks, up to high doh on fixin the boat while suckin down more of the bevvy and still reefin on those clatty baccy fags, so I've been in here, scrannin ma wee pan in on some mince and tatties, which is whit sent me to the cludgie and I was goin to watch my stories when ye popped in."

She very indiscreetly glanced over your shoulder to see the TV. "Ye mak a better door than a windae. Go on now. Get yer bahookie out there and have yersels a blether. That's whit ye came here for now aye? Whit's fur ye'll no go by ye."

Her smile was devious. You knew she wanted you and Gerry to reconcile but you couldn't even think of things like that when you loved Lee the way you did, but you understood what she last said and you certainly believed it. What's for you will not go by you. There were always signs if you paid attention, which you always did.

With your stomach in knots, you slowly headed out down the lengthy dock where you could see the speed boat up on the lift with Gerry inside of it and you could hear his jeers too, swearing like the Scotsman he truly was.

The day had become dreich as Margie would say and it was getting colder too, even more so out on the water. It felt like a reflection of your emotions. The calm before the storm that was about to become a category 5 hurricane when you found the courage to tell Gerry of Megan's betrayal. Knowing him the way you did, he wouldn't believe it at first and you could already predict his words. Yer bum's oot the windae! Blatantly translated....you're full of shit.

Your phone beeped, causing your already shortened steps of rapidly growing cold feet to cease altogether. It was Lee responding to your text that informed him of your late arrival.

"I have already waited a lifetime for you. I can wait longer because you are worth every aching minute of delay. I will wait forever if I must, just to breathe in your presence."

How? How could any human being possess such power over you? To be able to stop and restart your heart all from one simple text? As you stood there, literally holding Lee's bleeding heart in your hands, you began to feel incredibly guilty for making him wait, especially because you had chosen to go to Gerry first and you knew he wouldn't understand. You didn't even understand.

Forcing down the urge to lean over the rail and hurl, you gripped your queasy stomach and continued on. The closer you got, music became audible. You halted your steps once more, gasping as the song flung you back in time to 5 years ago in Galway when your relationship with Gerry was shiny and new. It was all your eyes could see as you gazed at Gerry working in the boat.

You had been wanting to go back to your roots and he had made that happen for you by taking you to Ireland on the same jet he picked his mom up in. It took a lot of coaxing though to get you on the man-made bird, for that was how your father had died when his plane had went down, something you rarely spoke of. Doped up on anxiety meds and tucked in the safety of Gerry's arms like a baby bird had gotten you through the fear and before you knew it, you and he were in Galway, partying it up.

The song was Galway Girl. Gerry said it reminded him of you and one night at one of the local pubs, the dashing detective showed off one of his many other talents. Playing guitar and singing that particular and very popular song with some guys he used to be in a band with back in his youthful days...and he sang it to you as he strummed the acoustic chordophone and strutted his way through the overcrowded room, embarrassing the hell out of you and then to top that off, he grabbed you up in his arms and kissed you madly. But you loved it and you loved him. It was like no one existed that night but you and him. Everything was so different then. You and Gerry were different, right down to his clean shaven baby face and your red hair with bangs.

You could still feel that kiss, taste it even. Guinness Stout mixed with sweet cologne and salty sweat. You were so happy. He was so happy. You could have had it all, rollin in the deep as the song said. He had your heart inside of his hand and he played it to the beat, or so you had believed no thanks to Megan's malevolence. She ruined everything. If she hadn't, would you now be Mrs. Josephine March Butler? You momentarily glanced down at your ring finger where the glowing golden rock used to be that he proposed to you with. He chose it because it was his birthstone and it reminded him of your amber eyes. He said it proved you and he were born for one another and even with Gerry, you had believed in all the signs so you really took that one to heart, along with both of your mothers names being the same. When everything went to shit, you took that as another sign and even went as far as secretly blaming it on the fact that he was a Scorpio. Low compatibility with your sign, a Sagittarius. Water and fire. It was said to be a very challenging relationship which it eventually became even without Megan's interference. You had just needed some fucking reason to understand how Gerry could ever cheat on you and with your slutty sister of all people or even at all. Would you have ever even met Lee? What would have happened if you had? Because your connection with him was instant and extremely intense, like the striking and igniting of a match. Aries and Sagittarius. Fire meets fire. You literally burned for each other.

As the song ended, the silence brought you back to the present, still staring at Gerry who had now locked his widened blue eyes upon you. Watching him hop out of the boat and casually strut his way to you in a dark baggy tee and a pair of khakis, you resumed your steps and your breathing that you swore had also ceased during your involuntary time travel.

He looked back at the boat and then you. "She's being stubborn. Hope you didn't come for a boat ride."

The ridiculous attempt to downplay his ghosting of you was expected and typical of Gerry, as well as the adorably anxious smile he displayed.

Gerry knew damn well you couldn't swim and would never get in a recreational boat but you couldn't even muster up a snarky retort with the way you were feeling and he noticed it. You noticed something too as he laid the rag on the railing and asked you if you wanted a beer. He was wearing his wedding ring.

"N..no. I'm good." you softly and simply declined.

As he opened the mini fridge under the small kitchen island used for bay parties, he looked back at you with concern.

"You ok?"

"I'm fine Gerry."

He popped the cap off the Heineken and took a swig while staring at you. "You're good, you're fine. Ok. Then why do you look like you've been crying?"

"Why do you look like a bottle of whiskey kicked your arse? Where have you been Gerry? I've been trying to reach you and I know damn well you know that. Why couldn't you answer my texts and calls??"

"Not to evade questioning like you're doing or to be a prick but since when do I owe you any explanations about my life? Last time I checked, we were never married."

"Fair enough...but why are you wearing your ring??"

His lips parted as he glanced down at his hand with a baffled expression, for clearly he had forgotten about it.

"Ohhh...that. Yeahhhh. Phil and I got a bit minced on a few wee drams last night and I woke up wearing it and well...now it's kind of stuck. Fingers got fatter I guess."

"A few shots?" you snickered. "I know how liberal you Scots pour those. According to your mom, ya'll were oot yer tree... errrrr was it off yer trollie?"

Gerry face palmed and grinned, then he sighed as he sat down on the rail. "Both terms would be correct. Look Josie, I'm dealin with a lot. You know that. I got my Mum in there hovering over me as you now know. I got Phil's young, dumb and reckless arse in there to look after and Vic over there in the hospital, still not doing well and now there's you."

You both gazed at each other for a moment, knowing he was reading you like a book and you began to feel sick all over again about what you had to tell him. His eyes already held so much stress and exhaustion and you were about to make it ten times worse.

"Josie...why are you here? What's going on with you sweetness? I can see it in those gorgeous eyes that something's wrong."

He was killing you. Gerry always called you sweetness from day one but it's the first time he had used the term of endearment it in a very long time.

"What ISN'T going on? Like you, I'm being hit at every angle with a new fresh hell every 5 minutes."

"And....you came..to me? Why? Don't you have that pretty doctor to bandage all your wounds?"

Your eyes instantly welled up. "You know what? This was obviously a mistake. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

As you spun around to leave, Gerry leaped off the rail and grabbed your hand, pulling you back. "Wait, wait...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I..I'm just not used to you coming to me for anything or even talking to me much at all for that matter and now here you are, out of nowhere and...."

Gerry paused as he intensely peered down into your glistening eyes. He was still clinging to the littlest bit of hope that someday you would want him back and he couldn't help but wonder if that's why you were there.

His thumb softly caressed the top of your hand as he still held it. "Talk to me baby. Did...did he...hurt you in some way?"

There he went, reading you again like a psychic with that annoying intuition of his. Gerry was certainly meant to be a cop.

"Just stop!" you cried, yanking your hand from his and turning away from him as you softly sobbed. "I am NOT going to talk to you about Lee, so just stop Gerry. Please just stop."

"It's very clear that I'm right but I will respect your wishes."

His then laid a gentle hand upon your shoulder. "But you're crying and you know what that does to me. Did my mum say something to you? I know she tends to overstep...."

You turned, eyes closed as you sighed, then forced them up to his. "No, she was actually more subtle about you and me this time. God, I'm just so fucking frazzled right now."

"I can see that. Ok, take in deep breath, hold it for a second and then just let it go. Here, I'll do it with you, come on. 1, 2..."

"Gerryyyy...that doesn't work." you whined with an eye roll.

"No, don't argue with me. Just do it. One more time, 1...2...3."

On his count of three, you just began blurting things out. "First off, there's how many experienced cops at the Salem P.D. with murder cases and you left that egotistical rookie partner of yours in charge of Elizabeth's case. Does no one realize it's a conflict of interest?? Luke and Lee are at each other's throats over their own issues so HOW is this fair to Lee being a person of interest when Luke's the investigating officer??!! And let's not forget a little girl is missing and it's all my fault! This is one of the reason's I have been trying to reach you because you can be objective and get shit done and speaking of cops, I got pulled over on the way here by Officer over the fucking hill for speeding and he was rude and mean and insulted me all because Jason's my brother, oh and someone busted my fucking tail light out and rusty water keeps coming out of the faucets!!!"

Gerry's response was of simple surprise as he stared at you, lips ajar. "Wow."

"That's it? Wow??"

"Well Josie, there's all kinds of bad shit in this county going on and we only have so many cops who are on pre-existing cases, not to mention the huge drug shit going on so I felt Luke could handle this while I got my shit together since he's highly qualified and all and no, I was not aware of the personal conflicts with him, but now I am and I'll look in to it. I'm sorry I've been distant but I really didn't think I was needed in your life anymore. Bring your car out to the trailer tomorrow if you want and I'll fix it but as far as your plumbing problem, isn't that your mobster landlord's responsibility?"

"Hilarious Gerry. Craig is not a bad guy. His daughter is missing so don't start in on him like you always did Jason who also isn't a bad person like that cop called him and I'm not going to ask Craig to fix my shower when it isn't even broken."

"But you just said..."

"It's not the plumbing. Just never mind. You wouldn't believe me if I told you and that doesn't really matter right now so forget I said anything."

Gerry looked at you with skepticism. "Ok. But what did you mean by isn't?"

"Huh?"

"You said Jason isn't a bad person. Don't you mean wasn't?"

Oh god. You DID say that and you needed to do damage control real fucking fast because this wasn't the first time you had almost let it slip that Jason was alive and Gerry was too damn smart. You hated lying to him but Jason would tell the world his secret when he was ready. In the meantime, you hoped he would find Ethan sooner than later and especially Blaise, but you hadn't a single clue what your undead brother was even doing or where he and Britt were. Did Jason even know what happened to Megan?

"Of....course I meant wasn't Gerry. It was an accident. He's only been gone close to 2 months now. Still don't seem real." you sniffled and wiped the corner of your eye for good measure.

"Alright. I get it. Sorry. Guess I'm still in cop mode and speaking of, so this cop that pulled you over. What's his name?"

"I...I don't know?"

"You got the ticket on you?"

You dug into your purse. "Yeah. Here."

Gerry stood looking it over and then his eyes popped as he chuckled. "82 Josie? Really? Where was the fire? All of this was that important to get here? Anyways, I know this prick."

He crumpled the pink paper up without a care and chucked it into the water. "There. No more ticket."

"Gerry...what are you doing??! I need that!"

"Not anymore you don't. I'll make it go away. One problem solved."

You knew he could too. You just didn't want to ask him to. "I..you...you would do that for me? I mean, with you being all by the book and stuff, no matter who it is?"

"I think you know you're an exception to that rule. I would do anything for you, especially if I can in some way make up for all the pain I caused you."

Your stomach twisted. You couldn't put it off much longer. The truth about Megan.

"Can you make everything else go away too? Lee didn't hurt Liz and he certainly didn't kill her. Please tell me you believe that."

"I've done my research on Lee and no, I don't think he attacked or offed his ex. Honestly JoJo, I think it could be someone else who Elizabeth pissed off which according to Luke's reports, was quite a muckle amount of people, even including you but of course I know that's not the case. I'm leaning more towards someone who wants us to believe Lee did it since he does have quite the motive, but again...I don't feel it was him. Things just don't add up. I think someone was more pissed off at Lee than Elizabeth."

Gerry didn't suspect you but someone certainly tried to make it look that way by planting all that stuff in Lee's car, but you couldn't tell Gerry about that and now your thoughts swirled like a twister, sucking in every person with means and motive to hurt the two of you. Someone who knew Lee's routines.

"Well, there's a large list of those people too. Ethan will always be my first guess. He hates me and that Lee chose me and not him and we all know what he's capable of. Then there's Angel, Lee's neighbor. Another jealousy, woman scorned thing and there's that Carpenter guy. I mean, you witnessed his rage at Lee and there's even..."

You paused, feeling guilty for even thinking it, but your priority was to always protect Lee, no matter who you had to throw under the bus. "There's...your new partner...Luke. Something happened years ago between them Gerry and I don't know what that was but I do know it was really bad and the two of them, as I said, are not getting along. I just think you don't know everything about Luke and I know I don't either, but from what I've seen and from what I DO know, he has a violent streak in him, especially if provoked. Just like his brother Ethan and maybe Luke is using this cop thing to his advantage?? I mean, he was WSB for christ's sake and..."

Gerry shook his head. "Stop. Stop."

But you didn't stop. "No Gerry! Is it really that far fetched?? He's smart as hell. He can easily hide things he don't want people to know. Trust me."

So could Lee for that matter, but you were way past ever thinking it was him and would forever regret that the thought had ever crossed your mind just like the guilty person wanted it to.

"Or maybe he's just doing his damn job. So let me get this straight. You think a former WSB agent is now a dirty cop and my partner at that, just to seek some kind of revenge on his once good friend."

"I..I don't know! It's possible yes?? He knows Lee inside and out."

"I'm smart as hell too and would like to think I am damn good at what I do and the fact that you're standing here implying that I wouldn't see right through a conspiracy like that is rather insulting. I'm telling you Josie, it's not Luke. Until you can give me something concrete as to why Luke would want to hurt Lee, you need to drop it."

"Ok fine. Maybe it's not to hurt Lee? Maybe it was FOR Lee. Luke hated Liz too for what she did to Lee."

"You know, you're definitely right about one thing. Luke is too close to this and needs pulled from the case. With that said, I think you're forgetting a few others with motive to kill Nurse Webber. I mean...let's not forget her ex-husband who she kept his own daughter from, or so called daughter I should say since he believes Blaise to be Ethan's and if that turns out to be true, it's really damn good motive on his part to off her and let's also not forget his line of work, so there's that."

"Nope. Stop it Gerry. Craig did not do it. Leave him alone already. He wouldn't do that to his daughter no matter how much he despised Liz."

"You seem so sure of that and oddly protective of him. What's that all about?"

"None of your business. Now who else? You said a few others."

"Ok, but you aren't going to like it."

"WHO!" you snapped.

The name that came out of his mouth made your skin crawl. "Peter. He's been making some noise lately from within that 6 by 6 of his."

"W...w...what?" you softly stammered in fear.

"I wasn't going to tell you this but out of the blue, he's been demanding to get word to you to come see him and he won't say why, which I think we all know is because he knows about you being with Lee. The warden let me know about it and I've made sure any letters he sends out with your name are never sent."

You shuttered inside. "Just like he sent letters to Britt, wanting her to give them to me."

"She didn't did she? I was under the impression she loathed her sadist brother."

"She does and no. I never saw the letters and I don't want to talk about Pe..." you sighed, unable to even say his name. "Why are you bringing him up?? You're in good with this warden. Get him to put him in solitary confinement where he belongs, like he did to me!!"

"I'm sorry. I said you wouldn't like it. I know what he did to you, kidnapping you and locking you in that morgue drawer. I was there and saved you remember? Or you would have suffocated and believe me, if I could shut him up, I would, but I can only do so much. I'm bringing him up because we all know he has extreme jealous tendencies and access to people on the outside. I think you know where I'm going with this. If he wants to get to you or Lee, he can."

You wanted to tell Gerry so bad what you knew about Lee's past with Luke involving Peter aka Sam Colin and how Lee was using that alias because Luke told him to, but you just couldn't. You trusted Gerry with your life but not Lee's.

"Yeah, I do. He could easily set Lee up to get him away from me which is WHY his communication needs to be revoked!! He's not only the son of an infamous terrorist, but he's one himself and he shouldn't have the privileges he has Gerry! Besides that, do you really think it's his style to frame someone?? He's more of the eraser type.''

"Then why isn't Lee dead already? Peter is his father's son yes, but he wasn't raised by him, only that other whack job son of his was, Charles Rane, who got blown up across the pond years ago."

You felt sick again, because it was Lee who caused that explosion, killing the Rane of terror. If you only knew what happened. The entire story. You would bet money Peter knew. So did Spinelli from intercepting those letters from Peter to Britt. And of course, Jason knew. If only you had listened to his and Lee's entire conversation instead of interrupting them, maybe you would know the truth.

"Does that make Peter any less dangerous?" Gerry continued. "No, but I had been after Cesar for so long and the two couldn't be more different. You should know since Faison was going to kill you the night you got shot, which not to defend Peter, but he meant to hit his father, not you, in an attempt to save you. Cesar eliminates his threats. Peter toys with them. The sadistic fuck likes to watch people suffer. Big difference."

"I swear if you say his name one more time!! And yeah, I know the difference. It's the real reason, which you already know, that my anxiety issues arose and why I'm claustrophobic and scared of the dark and storms! You have no idea what thunder sounds like inside a cold metal box. But in shame, I tell everyone, even Lee, it's because Megan locked me in a crawl space during a storm when we were kids, which was true, but that never damaged me the way that monster did. I...I couldn't fucking breathe. I could still smell the chloroform and I can still see the darkness all around me, stealing my breath like the grim fucking reaper and hear the echoes of my own cries as I called out for you."

"I know...and Peter claimed he was hiding you from his father because you were my girlfriend and Faison would kill you if he found you. Maybe I should go visit the piece of shit because now I'm angry all over again and want to rip his minging heid aff!!"

There was the full blown Scottish accent and you hadn't even told him about Megan yet. "Well maybe someone in prison will get to him first, shank him over and over and over or slip some rat poison in his coffee or something. I bet you could arrange that."

"Haud yer wheesht! What's gotten into you Josie? Just because you're Jason's sister doesn't mean you have to act like him."

"Now YOU haud yer wheesht!"

"I will when you stap yer haverin!"

Your lips pursed and you went to riposte, but Gerry's phone rang. "Saved by the bell. Guess Luke's ears were ringing. I gotta take this. He fills me in from time to time."

As Gerry walked away to talk privately, you went to the sink for a glass of water. Your eyes were on him, trying to listen as you turned the faucet on but he was purposely whispering. Your hand became wet as the glass overflowed and when you looked down, your hand was stained with red water.

"Gerry!!!" you screeched and dropped the glass in the sink, shattering it.

"I'll call you later!" Gerry barked and ran to you. "Fuck Josie, did you cut your hand? Here baby, let me see it!"

"It's not blood Gerry. It's the water!! This is what I told you about! First at Dave's, then at my place and now here. I...I don't know what the fuck is happening. It's like some supernatural sign or an omen or something. Gerry, I feel like something bad is going to happen."

His eye dropped from yours and he became silent as he dried your hand off with a towel.

"Gerry? W..what's wrong? What did Luke tell you??"

He threw the towel down and grabbed another beer. "When were you going to tell me about Megan being kidnapped and attacked?"

"I...I was going to. We were just, you know, talking about all this other stuff and I got distracted. That's all."

"Luke's at the hospital now and asked me if I could find a guard and..."

"You need to! Because I don't think she was expected to be found considering where she was at. Did he speak to her? What did she say? Because she told me and mom she couldn't remember anything just before it happened and during, just that she remembered Dave finding her and...Gerry...she said she feels like it wasn't Ethan but...I don't believe that. She's either scared to rat him out or it's just the trauma."

"Or it's the drugs they found in her system compromising her memory. Her blood panel showed traces of Rohypnol in her system. It's a roofie."

"Oh my god...."

"That's...not all Josie. They uh...they did a rape kit on her and..."

"No...just...no. Tell me she wasn't."

"I...I can't. I'm sorry Josie. Luke said she don't remember it but she was so distraught from the results of both tests that they had to sedate her."

Your eyes burned with tears as your heart began to pound. "M..mom...what about my m...mom?"

"Luke's staying with her for awhile. Still think he's a cold blooded killer?"

"I...I don't know what to think anymore. Gerry...there's more...and it involves you. I need to get this out. It's the entire reason I came here."

"Why do I feel like I'm the one who's not going to like this now? What is it Joey? Oot with it."

You drew in a deep breath like he told you to do earlier, then exhaled long and hard. "Ok. Here it goes. After speaking to Megan today, she decided to do some kind of conscience cleanse and...she...she claims that you and she...never slept together. That she set you up to hurt me."

Gerry turned around with an incredulous sigh, placed his palm on his forehead for a moment, then turned back to you with his mouth hanging open.

"What? Yer bum's oot the windae." he exclaimed, exactly as you predicted he would and still in shock, he questioned again. "What?"

"It's not nonsense Gerry. Trust me, I didn't believe it at first either, but...her demeanor and how she cried her eyes out...it's true Gerry. She admitted to drugging you and even wearing my perfume to get you excited, but the drugs and the alcohol only ended up knocking you out, so she sent me that text from your phone, then took your clothes off and hers and climbed into bed with you, waiting for me to show up the next morning. It was all a fucking set up Gerry because she was jealous of me. I...I'm so sorry." you cried. "I..I...should have known better...I should have believed you when you said something didn't feel right...I..."

And here it came. The blow up you dreaded.

"That clatty cunt!!! Are you fucking kidding me??!! Oh karma sure bit her in the arse now didn't it eh??!! JEE-sus Mary and Joseph what the fuck is wrong with that girl??!! She should be in a fucking mental institution. I cannot even comprehend this right now. She..she ruined everything for us and for what?? Just to make you suffer?? And don't you dare stand here and blame yourself. I wouldn't have believed me either! She's going to fucking pay for this, so help me God."

"Well, as you said, she's already getting her karma."

"Ohhh hell no. She's going to get MY karma. Why am I the only one that's losing my shit here??!! She destroyed us Josie!! My god, did it ever cross your mind that we might still be together and even married?? You would be wearing the rings that go with the one I'm wearing right now!"

"That's ALL that has crossed my mind Gerry!! I'm supposed to be somewhere else right now but I came here. It's why I got fucking pulled over. I kept spacing out with the memories. I literally kept seeing the look on your face when I found you with her and it hurts like hell, all of it and then I get here and you're playing that damn song and my mind went back to those memories too and then I see you with that ring on and...and...and...I...god Gerry...I'm so confused!!"

He finally calmed down and started a conversation that you knew he would but were in no way prepared for. "Why? Why are you confused? My god, I'm innocent sweetness. Does this mean anything to you now? Does it...change...anything? Because nothing has ever changed for me except losing you. I still love you as much as I did then, if not more and..."

"Gerry...please don't."

He came up to you, face to face, pleading his case. "Don't what?? I never fucking cheated on you baby. I never could. That's why it never made any sense and you and me, being apart never made any sense. Do you not feel anything at all for me anymore? Is it really all gone? Because we were crazy as hell for each other and I know I'm not wrong about that. I mean, look what we had. We had a beautiful life. I know we had been through shit after you were shot, with the whole children thing, but we made it through that. We worked hard for what we had. Let's put some more gas in the tank."

"Gerry...I...I'm with Lee now, you know that and I..."

"Are you? Because I'm looking right at you standing here in front of me. Is that where you're supposed to be right now? But you're not, are you? You came to me. You could have waited to tell me all this. What was one more day of letting me feel the agony of losing the best damn thing that's ever happened to me? You couldn't. You couldn't do it. You had to come tell me right away and why? Because it fucking matters to you. I...matter to you, even now, after all this time, even after you moved on with someone else."

"Of..of course it matters to me Gerry! And no, I didn't want you to suffer anymore, not even for one more day..."

He stepped right up against you and placed his large hands on your cheeks, his face merely inches from yours, his warm beer breath showering your lips. "I...matter to you. Say it Josie. Tell me I still matter. Tell me you feel nothing for me anymore. Tell me you don't still love me, not even a little bit."

Tears raced out of your eyes and over his hands as your lips began to quiver. "I...I...Gerry please sto..."

His lips took yours with a fierce passion like he did on the dance floor that night in Galway and you found yourself succumbing to him like you did on the dance floor that night in Galway. The familiarity of his taste, the way his lips moved, the way they felt, the way HE felt all came flooding back to you and you couldn't pull yourself away.

@redeemer46

[lt-doberman]

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“Oh no! I think I have an infestation, what do I do?”

Call me! I can offer multiple services, from total extermination to tools that will help you take care of em' yourself! You’re not alone! 32% of English homes have a Pixie & Fairy problem. It’s completely normal to be distressed but don’t worry! Hunstmen United offers year around Fae based Extermination. If you care about your family consider emailing me below for a quote, and remember, if there’s still monsters after a detailed examination Huntsmen United will refund you 40% for any fees paid for Monster-Hunting services until your house is pest-free!

Disclaimer: Huntsmen United does not sanction the trade of fairy homes, blood, or wings, And the trade of tools for any use of illegal fae-based poaching will not be tolerated. Additionally any ‘KIT’ sold by Huntsmen United members are not protected as an official item and are not insured. When buying merchandise from licensed huntsmen you are still responsible for ensuring that the buyer is trustworthy. By Buying huntsmen merchandise you forfeit your right to sue for damages caused by improper use of supernatural material.

BUY NOW AND WE’ll THROW IN A STANDARD GHOST PROTECTION KIT FOR FREE! (when you use code ‘Ifuckinghatecasper' at checkout.)