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rydenstories · 5 years

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a very unlikely rescue

"Get the van ready!"

My boss, Mandy, called from the back office. Moments before, I had heard her cellphone ring and already suspected that we'd be going on a rescue. The animal shelter she owned was closed for the night and the evening volunteers had already arrived, but it wasn't at all uncommon to be called to pick up a stray at the last minute.

I'd never head out the door for the evening knowing there was an animal I could help, so although it would normally be the night staff's responsibility, I assured Mandy that I would accompany them on the rescue. Again, this wasn't out of the ordinary, but still my normally trusting boss seemed apprehensive. "This seems like a touchy case. Are you sure? I can take responsibility for it." I assured her that she could go home for the night.

Mandy was my mentor for the first decade we knew each other, teaching me everything she knew about humanely rescuing and adopting out animals, though the latest few years we've been more at equals. I can do anything she can do, so it was strange that she would question my capability at all.

Still, she conceded and explained the situation, albeit briefly as she had mentioned that it was a time-sensitive emergency.

"SPD called us with a possible vicious animal case after 911 was dispatched to a residence in which a man was threatening his own life. When EMT and SPD arrived, they found that the guy had some kind of dog locked up in a back room, but the thing is either terrified or possibly feral, because it's barking and snarling so loud that nobody will go back there to get it. I could hear it on the phone, it was so damn loud..."

Again she seemed apprehensive to let me go, and I could tell she wanted to say more, but I was already in emergency mode. Grabbing the keys for one of our rescue vans from behind the counter, I repeated again that I could handle it, and would call her if it was an absolute emergency. I met up with a young volunteer, Russ, and we set out to the location.

The drive was a little long, but soon pavement turned to gravel and the lines of houses turned into uneven rows of single-wide and double-wide trailers. It was only a few minutes after that when the lights of all the police vehicles started to become more visible in the distance.

The trailer we pulled up to was isolated from the rest by two empty lots where other single-wides used to stand on either side. Now all that was left were the cement foundations, which were littered with garbage likely belonging to the arrested resident. Even inside the car, parked behind several cop cars, Russ and I could hear the barking and the snarling.

Many of the neighboring residents had gathered at the very edges to look on. Meanwhile, several officers kept the crowd calm and talked among themselves, though it didn't seem like anyone was truly in a rush to even go near the trailer.

A rather tall and buff looking officer noticed our van parked and called out to a few officers around, who accompanied him as he briskly jogged over to our location. I hopped out of the drivers side and slammed the door closed, latch meeting home just as the officers arrived. "Hey! Thanks for coming!" One of them, a tiny brunette with a tight ponytail, called out. "We.... Well, really don't know what to make of this one!" The buff one added.

Almost as if on cue, the animal inside let out a rather loud growl that brought everything to a standstill for a moment.

There was a hush, but Ponytail snapped out of it first. "We don't really know what the story is. The subject has already been taken into custody and is on his way to get the care he needs. Real delusional, though. Probably crazy."

Muscles cut in. "Wasn't crazy to be afraid of that dog." He let out a forced chuckle but said nothing more, letting us get down to business. Russ grabbed a plastic kennel as well as a lead, collar, and restraining pole.

Here's the thing; we weren't terribly shocked by this situation. Russ and I always go into any rescue with a normal level of apprehension and in cases like this, that's much higher. Still, it definitely wasn't the first time we'd shown up to a scene like this and totally defused the situation in minutes. The cases that seem more dangerous always resolve themselves faster. We thought this would turn out the same.

The two of us stepped onto the porch and even before we opened the door, the sound was loud enough to make you want to cover your ears. The barks were deep, crazy low compared to anything I'd heard in all my years rescuing animals. Still, we continued inside.

The first thing that stood out was the lack of.... anything inside the trailer. It's not uncommon to find folks squatting in abandoned trailers around here but this place was SPOTLESS. No furniture. No clutter. Not a single speck of dust or dirt. Nothing like the environment outside. It almost seemed like an empty rental. Despite the look, though, there was a kind of smell. Not a scent, more of a presence in the air. Hot. It burnt the nose.

"Well it doesn't sound like this one's gonna get any nicer the longer we stand here. Let's do it." Russ decided, and I nodded. He was right; strangeness aside, the job needed to be done.

We put together a plan, although it was flimsy.

We found some garbage outside that we could use to guard ourselves. I had a toddler mattress, Russ had a large slab of plywood. We'd open the door to the back bedroom. It would then either charge us, we'd have to coax it out, or just go in and grab the thing if all else failed. I barricaded myself off to the side of the bedroom, in a small alcove to the left that would normally house a washer and dryer. He braced himself down the hall, facing the bedroom door. If it came blasting out, Russ could take the hit. I wasn't strong enough to brace against a giant charging dog but I was cunning enough to coax a confused animal hiding in a dark room out.

My partner signaled that he was ready, I counted to three, and the door swung open before I could get a grasp on the knob. It was as if the motion stole the sound from inside the room because growls ceased to reverberate through the metal shell of the trailer.

For a moment, it seemed like we were just waiting, but nothing emerged from the room. I couldn't see much inside from the angle I'd barricaded myself into and it still looked extremely dark in there. I started making kissy noises and listening for a possible reaction. Nothing. Silence. "Russ? Anything?" He had barricaded himself just out of my line of vision.

Again, silence. I had started to sweat some time before, but hadn't noticed until the silence had set in. I was drenched in it by then, and the room was so unbearably hot. It hadn't been a few moments before, though the smell in the air betrayed it. I called out to Russ again and, instead, was met with a response from inside the room. A powerful, aggressive growl.

In situations like this, we're trained to use gentle approach with calm speech.

"It's okay little baby." I whispered out. "C'mon." The aggression died down for a second, so I did it again, and again, and again while trying my best to peer into the pitch black room and catch a glimpse of the animal we were trying to rescue. Nothing moved, though the growling weakened.

I called out for Russ again, no response. The sound upset the animal again, so I resigned myself to the idea that my co-worker would be no help.

Gentle speech worked for a while but once the growling wouldn't quiet anymore, I turned to the treats. I grabbed a marble sized bit from a baggie in my pocket that smelled something like bacon. As lightly as I could, I tossed it into the room.

Usually, you expect one of two sounds; the small little pitter of the treat hitting the floor, or the quiet slap of dog jowls. The growling ceased, but no other sound came from the room. I leaned over my makeshift barricade as far as I felt safe. Again, the room was entirely black. A window should have been directly in my view, but it wasn't.

Something emerged from the darkness. The treat I'd tossed rolled out into the hallway and stopped perfectly in front of my barricade.

I stared down at it for a moment before a blasting bark, feeling warm and moist as if it were right next to my face, cracked into my eardrum and frightened me back into the corner. The growling resumed afterwards and, for a moment, I considered running away.

Maybe it just felt like a last-ditch effort before high-tailing it out of there, but I started reasoning with it, or maybe I was just trying to replace some of the gentle talk with something less repetitive. "We're just trying to help little guy." I cooed. "It's gonna be okay. We're going to find a home for you, I promise."

The sound from inside the room changed. Still a snarl but somehow more distant. Quiet. Small. It seems stupid, but I kept going. "Someone out there is gonna love you. Just let me help you, little baby."

The heat, and the burning smell, started to recede. The growl had gone, and there was an overall pressure that lifted. It almost made it easier to think. I called out to Russ again, but still got no response, although the noise didn't cause an upset this time. Finally, I found the courage to stand up. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight.

It seemed, already, like the darkness had somehow receded. I actually thought the sun was coming up, I could finally see that back window.

I shined the light into the room.

Like the rest of the trailer, it was devoid of clutter or furniture. Except a tiny wicker rocking chair, which inside sat a bisque porcelain doll. She was pale with glass eyes that were green and spiral curls that were dark brown. Next to her, there was a red gasoline can and a BIC lighter, like someone had set to burn her.

I almost couldn't believe it. I started shining the flashlight all around the room, but there wasn't even a closet to hide in.

Confused, I turned back to the other end of the hallway to relay my findings to Russ.

The plywood that had been used for the other barricade had a huge, black burn in it. Bits of the edges were still orange with heat. Behind it, my slightly burned colleague lay unconscious.

In a few moments, I would learn that the aforementioned exchange only lasted fifteen minutes - a half an hour tops, although it felt like hours. The rest of that evening moved much quicker. Russ suffered second degree burns on his arms and was quickly carted off to the hospital. The authorities started dispatching officers to survey the area for the assumed escaped "dog" while others pressured neighbors back into their home. Meanwhile, I called Mandy, who gave me strict instructions to follow immediately. Somehow, I knew she'd know what to do.

By this time, there were only two officers in charge of guarding the scene from curious pedestrians and journalists. I lied, telling them I'd forgotten an expensive piece of equipment inside.

I guess she didn't seem all that strange to anyone else on the scene. Although I'd suspected at first that they might take her for evidence, she still sat there in her rocking chair. Perfect curls popped out from a magenta-colored bonnet. One fragile leg dangled off the edge of the rocking chair, while the other was bent underneath it. I grabbed the entire chair and carried her back outside, joking out an excuse to the officers. "My Mom loves these things." They didn't seem to care.

To my surprise, Mandy was waiting for me when I brought the van - and the doll - back to the shelter. She seemed tightly-wound and concerned, but she took the porcelain juju off of my hands before sending me home for the night without another word beyond thanking me for doing the job.

I would come back the next morning to find the doll, rocking chair and all, sitting in Mandy's office. That's where she stays, as far as today, and our staff treat her as if she's a living part of the family. This is only done at the request of our boss - who is convinced she can find a home for the thing.

Minus a few instances that could just as easily be written off as coincidence, things have been pretty uneventful since.

Russ, however, has refused to return to the shelter.

#My writing #My Story #mine #nosleep #short horror story

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shireness-says · 5 years

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Took My Soul, Wiped It Clean

Summary: Killian generally loves Storybrooke and its close-knit feeling, is happy to be raising his family here, but those close ties also often mean that everyone is sticking their nose into everyone else’s business. Can’t a man keep any bloody thing to himself? Rated T for language. ~5.5K. Also on AO3. A sequel to “If I Could See Your Face Once More”.

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A/N: I’m back, with more of my 5B divergence! And fluffy this time. I’d recommend reading “If I Could See Your Face Once More” before this, but I suppose it could stand alone as a fluffy thing. Title taken from the same Kodaline song as the first, “All I Want”. Super thanks to my super beta, @snidgetsafan.

I do add in a non-canon character in this installment. Though he’s pretty much just mentioned here, he is important later in this ‘verse, and is taken from literature. I’d love to hear your guesses about who he is, and what I’ve got planned! I’ve got a lot in my head for this divergence ‘verse, so if you ever have questions or ideas that you want to see, just shoot me a message.

Tagging those from the first: @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @ultraluckycatnd, @superchocovian, @snowbellewells, @killianjones4ever82, @wellhellotragic, @ohmakemeahercules, @let-it-raines, @lifeinahole27, @kmomof4, @scientificapricot, @spartanguard, @courtorderedcake, @justanotherwannabeclassic

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

His daughter is meticulous.

It’s a ridiculous word to ascribe to a toddler, he knows, but that’s the only one he can come up with. She eats her macaroni one silly shape at a time and watches her feet take every step and says each of her words very carefully, like she wants to get every sound right instead of just chattering away. They hear her practicing words in her crib at night sometimes over the baby monitor. It’s adorable.

Fatherhood is more than Killian could have ever imagined when Emma first told him she was pregnant. It’s more than he imagined when he found out they were having a girl, or when Charlotte was first placed in his arms, still damp and squirming and perfect. It’s the greatest, best responsibility of his life, waking up every morning and trying to be everything his daughter thinks he is, because it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that she adores him. Daddy’s girl, Emma says.

(He’s fine with that.)

Killian is a little terrified some days, because the truth of the matter is that he’s not certain he’s as much of a hero as his daughter believes him to be. He’s lived an awfully long time, and done some terrible things in those years, and it terrifies him to think that his little girl might find out some day and lose that gleaming trust she has in him. In the meantime, he’s doing his best to be the best man he can be - gentle and kind and honorable, the kind of man he may have once been, hundreds of years ago.

That’s a worry for later, though. Right now, he’s more worried about picking up his little girl from her grandparents’ for a lunch with Emma and an afternoon out.

The door has barely opened before Killian hears her little voice, pitched even higher in her excitement as she shrieks out “Papa!” Gods, but he loves that, loves the way she lights up like the brightest star when she sees him, and all because of him.

“Well hello, my little bean,” he coos, stooping to scoop her into his arms, already bundled into her winter coat and mittens and hat. She’s no longer bean-shaped in the least, but the nickname had stuck, even after she was born. “Did you have fun with Grandma and Gramps and Leo this morning?” If the change of clothes is any indication - they definitely didn’t send her off in this fluffy skirt this morning, though the striped tights are a nice touch - it seems like they might have. A messy morning, at the very least.

“Yeah,” she responds with that toothy smile he so loves, reaching to press her little hands against his cheeks so his face scrunches up - a favorite game of hers.

“We did finger paints,” David explains. “They’re still drying right now, and her clothes too, but Snow and I will bring them the next time we come by the house.”

“Thanks, mate,” Killian smiles back. Sometime in the past few years, between monsters and death and children, he’s grown quite close to Emma’s father, their former animosity nothing more than a distant memory these days. “Maybe you guys could come around tonight. In the meantime, the little lass and I have a very important lunch date.”

David’s eyebrows rise in what must be anticipation. “Are you going to…”

“Aye,” Killian quickly responds before the other man can finish. Talking about it will only encourage his nerves, and he’s trying his hardest to avoid that right now.

“Good luck, then,” David replies, reaching out to clap Killian on the shoulder. Before he can say anything else, though, a loud cry echoes through the house. “Listen, I’ve got to go check on Leo and the twins so that Snow can keep sleeping, but…”

“We’ll call you,” he promises.

“Great. Okay, then, we’ll talk later. Bye, Princess!” As soon as grandfather and granddaughter exchange waves, the door closes, Charming hastening back down the hall into the rest of the house and his own child’s crisis.

“Do you want to go see Mama, my Charlie girl?” Killian asks as they climb back down the porch stairs.

(Henry had come up with the nickname, claiming that Charlotte was far too frilly and fussy for such a calm, curious, and unshakeable infant. It had stuck, mostly because it suits her. Charlie. By this point, Snow is the only one who still calls her Charlotte.)

“Yeah. Mama now,” she agrees, nodding decisively. She sounds absolutely determined - and absolutely precious.

Charlie ends up being put back down once they reach the pavement of Main Street, just as always. She’s a fiercely independent thing, his little lass, and he’d been expecting it; lately, he always factors extra time into wherever they’re going so that she can toddle carefully along to her heart’s content. She’s a little star in her own right, too, garnering all manner of waves and little bows as they slowly make their way down the sidewalk. Storybrooke has rather swelled in population since his return from the Underworld; Merlin had ultimately returned the citizens of Camelot to their home by joining all the realms together, once and for all. Later, the population of the Land of Untold Stories had been brought into the chaos when the Dark One had attempted to attack Storybrooke and sweep away his wife and unborn son, opening a gaping portal between the two dimensions in the process. Ultimately, his attempt had been unsuccessful, the Dark One being destroyed by the combined forces of Emma, Regina, Merlin, and just about every other magic wielder in a variety of realms, from Maleficent to Elsa to the fairies, but the Untold Stories residents had stayed to try and move their own tales forward. Killian likes most of their new inhabitants, possibly excepting the relocated Lost Boys, but it is always a little bit of a shock to walk down the street and see Vikings and airship captains and everything else under the sun, all trying to pay homage to himself and his daughter as members of the royal family. While each individual realm has their own government, they’re all under the overarching rule of Queen Snow and King David as rulers of the United Realm - a unanimous decision by the various heads of state. Storybrooke is technically a democracy with Regina as its mayor, though no one had actually run against her in the last election. Killian doesn’t think that it was a matter of fear, for once in her life, but rather every one of the townspeople recognizing that they had no desire to deal with all of the bureaucracy of local affairs and the diplomacy required to deal with every realm from Arendelle to Camelot to Oz - not to mention, dealing with the dwarves. Especially not dealing with the dwarves. Regina seems to be the only person who actually thrives on that much paperwork and the minutiae of local government, and so they’re all happy to let her.

(Killian’s own family had expanded with the arrivals from the Land of Untold Stories, his very angry and long-lost half brother and said brother’s adoptive father. Nemo had been delighted at the opportunity to become a little family; Liam had been less excited. Part of that is likely due to Nemo needing to be hospitalized for the injuries that drove them to the Land of Untold Stories in the first place, injuries he’d sustained the last time both surviving Brothers Jones had met, the other due to the death of Brennan, their father, also at Killian’s hands. It’s all a mess, and they’re still trying to come to terms with the whole thing. For the moment, they’re all operating under a truce. It helps that both men adore Emma, and especially Charlie; after Henry had insisted the submarine captain watch the animated movie of his namesake, Nemo had been the one to gift their daughter upon her birth with the stuffed fish that had become her very favorite. Killian will never understand how the other man can be so tickled by his cinematic reincarnation. Regardless, he’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep the peace if it means Charlie gets to grow up being doted upon by Uncle Lee and Baba Nemo.)

By the time they finally make it to Granny’s to pick up lunch, they’ve had to fulfill the routine of up and down and up and down several times over. Charlie is a curious little thing, though her natural caution and methodicalness keeps her from wandering out of sight, his little girl almost as careful about checking that he or Emma is in sight as they are. Still, he swoops her up once the white fencing of the diner is in sight, tickling her sides until she giggles just before they walk in the door. Granny smiles at them both - well, mostly Charlie, the widow Lucas still gruff with everyone but her expanding gaggle of pseudo-grandchildren - as Killian deposits her on one of the red vinyl stools.

“The usual, Captain?” She asks, fixing him with a piercing look over the top of her spectacles. Every time she does so, Killian finds himself grateful that it’s only Ruby who’s susceptible to the full moon; he wouldn’t want to meet Granny in wolf form, not one bit.

“Yes, please.” It’s nice, having established himself so firmly in this town as to have a usual order at the local diner - a grilled cheese and onion rings for Emma, a BLT and fries for himself (mostly so Emma can steal them - she likes having options), and a bowl of macaroni and cheese for the little lass. Today warrants a little something extra though, he thinks. “And a generous slice of that marvelous chocolate cake as well, if you don’t mind.”

Granny snorts a laugh as she finishes writing out their order on the ticket, sliding it through the order up window so the cook can get started on their order. “So today’s the day, then?”

Killian stiffens at the words. “I won’t pretend to know what you’re talking about.”

Granny rolls her eyes at that. “Sure you don’t. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, Captain, but you’re a terrible liar. Unlike your girlfriend,” she makes sure to emphasize the title, “you only get dessert on very special occasions. Do you have something to celebrate today, Hook?”

His cheeks are noticeably burning red, but Killian still keeps his silence.

“Suit yourself,” Granny shrugs, mercifully taking pity on him. “Now hand over the little angel, she’s got to pick out the noodles.” It’s always Charlie’s favorite part, and despite the older woman’s teasing earlier, Killian feels a rush of affection at the gesture.

“I do it,” Charlie pipes in. She’s got that determined set to her eyebrows - just like her mama’s, really - and is already scooting to the edge of the stool to try and get herself down.

“Oh no you don’t,” Granny replies, much to Killian’s relief. Let her be the bad guy here, not that Charlie will put up the same fuss with the Widow Lucas as she would at home. “If you’re going to go in the kitchen and pick your noodles, you’ve got to let me carry you, little missy.”

Charlie doesn’t look happy about it, but the promise of fun shapes wins out apparently as she holds up her arms and willingly lets the older woman pick her up. As soon as the bow ties and corkscrews and whatever other kinds of pasta are in sight, she’ll doubtless forget any frustration about not being allowed on her own two feet.

Killian is so busy watching his Bean as she’s carried away that he doesn’t even notice Ruby coming to lean herself across the counter from him, sporting a grin so wide it might better be described as bared teeth.

“So, you got a plan?” she quips. Damned wolves and their damned hearing.

“There’s no plan,” he all but growls back. Killian generally loves Storybrooke and its close-knit feeling, is happy to be raising his family here, but those close ties also often mean that everyone is sticking their nose into everyone else’s business. Can’t a man keep any bloody thing to himself?

“Oh, that’s no good,” Ruby replies. Obviously, she hadn’t picked up on the hint to drop it that his tone had carried. “Women like when there’s a plan, you know, you really shouldn’t ask her —”

“Maybe my plans are none of your damn business!” Killian bursts out, only the memory that this is the middle of the lunch rush keeping him from shouting the words in Ruby’s face.

It doesn’t faze Ruby, however. “Oh, so that means you do have a plan,” Ruby replies smugly, crossing her arms across her chest. Somehow, the smile stretches even wider. Killian just glares back. “Alright, keep your secrets,” she finally concedes, hands raising in surrender. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“I’ll let you know if I need it,” he growls out. Granny walks back through the door with Charlotte at that moment, blessedly distracting Ruby. Killian takes the chance to check his mobile telephone (he long since knows that it’s a cell phone, or just a phone, but it still makes Emma laugh to hear him act confused about the devices); happily, there’s a message waiting from his Swan.

E: Are you and Bean still coming by the station with lunch, or should I meet you at Granny’s?

K: We’ll be there soon, love - just picking up the order now. We’ve a surprise for you.

In only a few more minutes, their order is ready to go; except for cooking noodles, everything else in their meal is pretty quick. With Charlie already swinging his hand back and forth, he gratefully accepts the bag Granny offers onto his hook; one of the few things that have changed in the timeless diner since his arrival after the First Curse is that paper bags with handles are kept around especially with Killian in mind so that his only hand can be left free. Now that he has their lunch in hand, the nerves suddenly make themselves known in a way that they hadn’t previously. On the surface, this is just another lunch, but Killian knows very well that this is a lunch that could change everything.

Some of those nerves must show as he exits the diner and nearly runs into Robin.

“There’s my favorite Jones!” the other man crows as Charlie happily latches onto his legs in a hug, tweaking her little ponytail. Turning his attention to Killian, though, Robin is less complimentary. “Are you alright, mate?”

“Fine, just a little stressed,” Killian replies shortly.

Robin nods knowingly, and Killian thinks he might be about to let it go. Until the thief speaks, that is. “Ah. So today’s the day then?”

“Does everyone in the bloody town know?” Killian demands, rolling his eyes in a move Emma would swear he’d picked up from her (she’s not entirely wrong). If not for the heavy bag on his hook, he’d probably have thrown up his hands dramatically as well, but he doesn’t think the onion rings would respond well to such treatment.

“Well, we’ve been expecting this for a while,” Robin explains. “How old is the little lass?”

“Twenty months.”

“Right, so a few months before that. We’ll call it an even two years - that’s how long we’ve been waiting for you to make a move. Though I will say, it doesn’t help that one of the dwarves owns the jewelry shop.”

“Of bloody course,” Killian mutters, mostly to himself. Gossips, the whole lot of them.

Inexplicably, Robin still smiles and leans around the cute little leech still suctioned to his legs to clap Killian on the shoulders. “Look, you don’t need to worry. It’ll all be alright.”

“Easy for you to say,” Killian mutters back. Robin’s living some kind of idyllic life, with a wife and children and a seemingly endless supply of confidence. Killian has been around a little too long to maintain that type of optimism.

Robin shrugs. “Maybe. Still, you and Emma are one of the most solid couples I know, even without throwing True Love into the mix. I think, deep down, that you’re just as confident nothing can shake that. Have a little faith, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best,” Killian replies, smiling weakly. It’s the best he can manage at the moment, when his stomach is trying to tie itself into an intricate series of sailor’s knots.

“Good luck, mate.” With a final squeeze of the shoulder, Robin starts trying to peel Charlie off his legs. “Feel free to send Henry over tonight if need be. Charlie too, of course, Vera would love to see her.”

“I’ve already set up for the lass to spend the night with Nemo and Liam, but thanks for the offer, mate. We’ll have to arrange for the girls to have a play date in the coming week regardless.”

“Indeed. Well, again, good luck, and let us know how it goes!”

The sheriff’s station is conveniently only two blocks away, making for an easy trek that even his daughter’s little legs can handle. Another decided plus of going to Granny’s; they’re close enough to their ultimate destination that he generally can just let her walk instead of trying to juggle carrying both their lunches and his toddler at the same time. Today, though, they stop at a bench a block away from the entrance of the station, where Emma can’t yet see them. Tugging on Charlie’s hand to make sure she stops, he carefully rests their lunch bag on the bench before extricating his own hand from her tiny grip to reach into his jacket pocket for the little velvet box.

The ring box.

Robin is right, in a way - this has been a long time coming. But in all the emotional upheaval of his return from the Underworld and their daughter’s impending arrival, marriage hadn’t taken priority. They already knew they were true love, about to raise a teenager and an infant together and committed in every way that counts; a wedding was just a legal formality at that juncture. Some might have argued that Emma’s pregnancy with Charlotte was a compelling reason to get married, but Killian actually found it more of a reason not to. He loved her - loves her - and has always seen marriage in their future, but vainly, he doesn’t ever want it to seem like they got married because of their impending child. After Charlie was born, they’d been so busy and exhausted and consumed with just making it day to day with two kids, one of them a baby. A wedding hadn’t been logistically possible at that point, at least not the way they or her family would want to celebrate it. No, as much as they love each other, waiting had been the right decision.

Now, though… now, there’s no longer any reason to wait. Now too, Killian finds himself yearning for that kind of commitment, to pledge themselves before all and sundry and cement things in a way he has trouble describing. Consciously, he knows that nothing will change with a white dress and a signed paper and a pair of rings, but that doesn’t stop him from dreaming. Emma and he had talked about marriage together before and established that it was something they both want in the future; now that things are finally starting to calm down and settle back into a routine in their lives, it finally seems that the moment is here.

(There’s the point, too, that they’re starting to talk about another baby, and Killian knows that if they welcome another child, they’ll be thrown right back into that cycle of happy exhaustion and put off getting married for another several years. On the less romantic side, it’s better to stage a wedding now, when they both have the time to commit to it.)

Charlotte is obviously confused by this unexpected pause in their path, a deviance from the usual routine. “Mama now,” she tells him - not the question another child might ask, but something more akin to a reminder, like her father might have forgotten that they have an appointment to keep. It’s just another manifestation of that meticulousness that he finds so adorable - the way she likes to know the plan and stick with it.

“In a moment, sweetheart, we’re just stopping here for a minute,” he assures her before producing the little ring box. “You see this, little love?” Charlie nods solemnly, reaching out a little hand to stroke along the soft green velvet. “This is a very special gift I’m going to give to Mama. Now, do you think you can keep it safe for me until it’s time to give it to her?” With any other child, it’d be an insane idea, but he knows his daughter.

And his daughter is meticulous.

(Besides, they’re only a block away; he’ll keep an eye out, but doesn’t anticipate any problems. She’s a careful little thing, after all.)

Charlie’s nodding eagerly anyways, a precious smile running across her face at the prospect of helping with the surprise. “Yeah! I do it!”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he praises, pressing a quick kiss to the soft hair on the top of her head. Quickly, he unzips her little parka to get at the miniature leather jacket she wears underneath, so much like Emma’s and his own, to tuck the box into the pocket where it will hopefully be more secure. Hats and gloves and all matter of outerwear get shoved into the pockets of her winter coat, creating so many opportunities for the ring to be disturbed; hopefully there will be less chance of that happening inside.

After resecuring all her layers, they continue their trek to the station, and walk through the front door only minutes later. Emma is alone in the office today, something of a rarity. Though David may have stepped down in order to pursue life as a farmer, returning to his sheep and to rule the United Realms alongside Snow, only helping at the station when absolutely necessary, the sheriff’s department has acquired several new deputies in the meantime, in order to deal with the increase in population.

Mulan had been the first person Emma had approached after her father had made his intention to leave known. The warrior had been a natural choice for her impressive skill set and level-headedness, and it had worked out well that the woman in question was a bit at ends after Ruby had left for Oz and a life with Dorothy. A deputy position granted her purpose and some sense of roots, and she’s flourished here, becoming Emma’s trusted right hand.

Dorothy had been an easy choice too, though she’s less available, forced to split her time between Storybrooke and tamping down trouble in Oz. The principality of Munchkinland supposedly operates as a democracy, one in which Ms. Gale holds no elected position, yet somehow she’s still the only one who can settle the frequent disputes that erupt between different factions. Killian would swear that it’s an entire population of dwarves, some distant cousins of Leroy and Doc and all the rest with all the trouble they manage to kick up.

Emma’s last deputy, Fitz, had been more of an unexpected addition - a former army colonel who had arrived with the other migrants from the Land of Untold Stories, looking for some kind of new purpose and to escape the long shadow cast by his cousin. Killian had been suspicious of the other man at first, but he’s more than proved his worth in the past two years, especially in aiding with the defeat of the Dark One by protecting Belle. It helps that the other man is one of the most amiable, easy going people Killian knows, armed with an easy smile and a self-deprecating sense of humor. Killian had worried that the former colonel might bristle as having to play deputy after so long as a leader in his own right, especially as a man from another time and society now under the command of a woman, but truthfully, Fitz just seems delighted to be surrounded by three strong women bossing him around. Now, Killian counts the other man as a friend, one of his regular drinking buddies alongside David and Robin.

Today, however, he knows that Emma is alone at the station - Killian had made sure to check the schedule last week and seen that Dorothy is off, Mulan is tackling a self-defense presentation at the elementary school, and Fitz is handling patrol. If all goes well, he can have an uninterrupted afternoon with Emma and their little lass.

Emma looks up at the sound of their footsteps, and immediately breaks into a wide smile when she realizes who’s there to see her. “Hey, you,” she greets, the affection obvious in her voice. How far she’s come from the skittish, closed off woman Killian had met in the wasteland that’s left of the Enchanted Forest; how far they’ve both come, really. Killian certainly wasn’t anything like the caring family man and loyal friend that he’s become back at the beginning.

“Hello yourself, love,” he smiles back, bending to kiss her. “Are you having a good day so far?”

“Eh. You know. Hit or miss,” Emma replies, simultaneously bending to hoist Charlie into a hug. As excited as their little girl had been to see her mother when he had picked her up from the Charmings’ an hour ago, now she’s more anxious to wiggle her way back down to the floor and run over to the bottom drawer of the file cabinet where they keep a handful of toys for her. “What am I, chopped liver?” Emma mutters. Even if she’s rolling her eyes, there’s still a smile on her face. They do manage to find a bit of humor in the frequent caprices. “Anyways, yeah, it was fine. Mostly dealing with paperwork, really. Leroy and one of the Vikings had a little bit of a spat early that I had to go referee, but that’s kind of just Tuesday. Not a big deal. You?”

“Uneventful so far.” Hopefully not for long, since he’s showed up with a ring and a question. “I finished with the docking fees this morning, then turned the office over to Mr. Smee for the afternoon and went to pick up the Bean.” While Killian serves as an additional standby deputy in the Sheriff’s station if need be, much like David and Robin, he’s actually found employment as the town’s harbormaster. It’s not always the most interesting job - mostly, he manages the monthly docking fees, though his position also involves inspecting the occasional imports from other realms and monitoring the office radio in case anyone gets into trouble or runs out of gas on the water - but it’s steady and dependable and lets him feel like he’s doing something productive, maybe even something good. The hours are a plus, too, as is continuing to be the boss. Killian still doesn’t take orders well from anyone but Emma.

“Is that lunch I see?” Emma asks, almost demands, zeroing in on the bag still hanging on his hook.

“It is indeed,” he replies, setting the sack on her desk. “Your favorite - grilled cheese and onion rings.”

“God, I love you,” she declares, leaning up for another kiss with a happy smile on her face.

And all of a sudden, the moment is here. It’s as good a lead-in as any. “Well, I’m very glad to hear that, love.” Gods above, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so nervous - not before that first date, not when he was standing in front of her door in New York. Maybe when their daughter was born, but that’s a slim thing. “Charlie, sweetheart, can you bring me that gift for Mama?”

“That’s right, I get a present!” Emma teases. That doesn’t last long though, her laughing tone giving way to a gasp as Charlotte rounds the corner of Mulan’s desk, her parka already shed and wrestling the ring box out of her little pocket. “Is that…”

“Aye, love.” Killian runs his hand along Charlie’s hair as she reaches him before plucking the box from her hands. “Good job, little love,” he murmurs with a smile. Now is the moment though, so he turns back to Emma and sinks to one knee as he props the little box open. Nestled inside is a ring that he thinks is perfect for her - somehow both sturdy and delicate at the same time, with a white gold band and two smaller round diamonds flanking a larger oval-cut diamond, a medium size that stands out without being ostentatious. He’d seen it in the window of the jeweler’s and just known it belonged on his love’s finger. Some things are simple like that; falling in love with Emma had been.

“It’s been a long, winding road to get here, my love, but I wouldn’t want to walk it with anyone else,” he begins. Hopefully the tears starting to glimmer in her eyes are a good sign. The soft smile on her face and the happy crinkles around her eyes certainly suggest so. “When we met, I couldn’t think of anything but my own revenge - but you made me want to be better. You still make me want to be a better man, for you, for Charlie, for Henry, every day. You’ve given me the most precious gifts of my life in your love and our children, and no matter what the future might hold, I just want to face it together. I may not be a perfect man, but I can promise you this: I will always, always be by your side.” Killian takes a final deep breath - it’s the moment of truth, so to speak. “So, Emma Swan, woman of my dreams and love of my life… will you marry me?”

It feels like he waits for her response for an entire lifetime - no, a whole eternity, even if it must only be seconds. But then her smile widens and Emma sinks to her knees, bypassing the ring in his hand completely to grasp his face between her hands and stroke along his cheeks with her thumbs as her delicate fingers curl around his neck, behind his ears and into his hair. “Yes,” she breathes, tears slipping from her eyes as she nods. If there was ever a moment the word emphatic was created to describe, this is it. “Yes. Yes! Of course I’ll marry you, my pirate.”

They really probably should worry about the ring in the box - namely, slipping it on her finger where he hopes it’ll never move again - but that seems like such a secondary concern when Emma’s kissing him for all he’s worth. Somehow he finds both his arms wrapping around her back to pull her closer, his hand still clutching the little green velvet box as Emma’s tongue slips into his mouth. Kissing his fiancée doesn’t feel wildly different from kissing his girlfriend yet, but he’s sure that given the chance to say that word a few more times - fiancée! - he’ll change his mind. For now, he’s more concerned about lips and tongues and the positioning of noses and the way Emma’s lovely breasts press just perfectly against his chest.

“Yes,” she tells him again as they break apart, and one more time as he finally works the diamond ring past the knuckle of her fourth finger. It’s nearly a perfect fit; just a small spark of magic is required to tighten the band to her exact specifications. It seems fitting for their relationship, somehow, which has been infused with the magic of Saviors and True Love since the very beginning.

Charlie choses that moment, of course, to tire of searching through her toy drawer and wander back over to see what her parents are up to. “Mama sad?” She asks, his clever girl noticing the tears still glistening in Emma’s eyes (and probably his own too, if he’s being very honest).

“No, baby, happy,” Emma laughs. “Mama is just very, very happy, and it’s spilling all over the place.” Killian understands that perfectly; he’s so happy, he feels like he’s overflowing with it.

There are worse complaints to have.

Soon, they’ll have to turn their attention to all kinds of wedding planning and spreading the news to their friends and family, but he’s happy for the moment to instead focus on having a nice lunch with his daughter and fiancée at the former’s urging (“Eat now?”). Both his girls are very excited about the chocolate cake, and the sooner they finish their entrees, the sooner they can dig into dessert.

After all, Granny was right; they’ve got a lot to celebrate today.

#captain swan #cs ff #my writing #Took My Soul Wiped It Clean #If I Could See Your Face Once More #5b divergence #no more angst #just cute kids

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rememberthattime · 5 years

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Chapter 47. Fiji

I was born on May 13, 1989. I don’t remember much about the day, but from pictures, it looked like a great time. My parents were celebrating, there were balloons, someone brought a children’s Chicago Cubs baseball set.

Today is my 30th birthday, so I’m reflecting … looking back all the way to the very start.

It’s interesting to imagine my mom & dad’s thoughts in that delivery room 30 years ago. They must have been terrified by the responsibility of raising a toddler (I would be), but also excited for their new son’s future. What will he grow up to be? Where will he live? What will he do? Their dreams for me had to be bigger than their 1980’s hair.

In the least dramatic way I can say this: they couldn’t have predicted where I’d end up 30 years later.

Birthdays are important to celebrate, but especially milestone birthdays. This is mainly Chelsay’s influence speaking, but I agree with her: milestone birthdays are ones you’ll always remember. 15 years from now, we’ll think back and ask: “What did we do for your 30th birthday?” ... I won’t let that be an ordinary memory. Life is busy though, so it’s tough to carve out a day for festivities, let alone plan them. Even a month ago, Chelsay and I didn’t know how we’d be celebrating. Chels had plans in motion, but my work complicated things by scheduling meetings in Atlanta the week before. My trip back to Sydney would require 24 hours of flights, so would we still be up for a big celebration? The answer is Yes. I’m not 70, and I just said milestone birthdays were important, so we’re making this happen. Work would pay for me to get from ATL back to SYD via any route, so Chels and I started looking for convenient connecting destinations. Hong Kong, Tokyo, Patagonia, and Hawaii were all considered, but in the end, we found the perfect blend of celebration, relaxation, adventure, and convenient flights in Fiji. Fiji is a county made up of 330 islands, and each island chain has its own unique characteristics. Viti Levu is the main island and home to Nadi Airport, but most tourists don’t stay here. Near Viti Levu are the Mamanucas, small sandy dots amongst the expansive blue. The Mamanucas are stunning, but they’re typically more resort-y and popular with nearby Aussies & Kiwis. Then there are the Yasawas, where Chelsay and I chose to stay. The Yasawas are further from the mainland, and their remoteness means their less touristy.

This is a double-edged sword though, because less tourists means there’s less tourist infrastructre, so finding a comfortable option would take some research. We eventually decided on Paradise Cove, which perfectly balanced vacation comforts (comfy bed, outdoor shower, and excellent food, which can’t be understated on a remote island) with a sense of wild adventure (fewer guests, great snorkelling, and hiking paths around the large island).

I nailed my meetings in Atlanta, so my birthday weekend was off to a good start even before boarding the plane. For the next 24 hours of flights, I had nothing to worry about - just enjoying a few movies and catching up on sleep. Chelsay and I met up in the Nadi Airport after extremely disproportionate flight times (hers was only 4 hours), and caught a ferry to Paradise Cove. Seaplanes were an option, but they were 5x the price and this wasn’t our honeymoon. The other advantage of the ferry is that it allowed us to see the different Fijian islands up close. Viti Levu and the Mamanucas were very nice, but Chelsay and I knew we’d made the right choice as we arrived in the less crowded Yasawas.

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We were in heaven as we stepped onto the sandy beaches of Paradise Cove. A jungle of palm trees lined the beach, at first hiding the resort before eventually revealing a dream island getaway: shaded cabanas, pool-side lounge chairs, and a bar concocting frozen, fruity treats.

The pineapple on top of this pina colada was that Chelsay told the resort it was both of our birthdays, so they upgraded our villa and outfitted it with balloons and welcome drinks. As birthday surprises go, drinks on a beach in Fiji was pretty good.

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After drinks on the beach, scuba diving wasn’t really an option, so we decided to snorkel in Paradise Cove’s house reef. I was really surprised by its color. It was just last week that I wrote about the scale of the Great Barrier Reef... but out in the middle of the Pacific, Fiji’s immense soft coral, highlighter vibrancy, and sea life abundance were incredible.

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Now, it was inevitable that jet lag would catch up to me. Atlanta is 16 hours behind Fiji, and I was mentally nearing midnight. Chelsay was also dealing with severe time zone change (2 hours), so she was equally down for a nap. We gave ourselves 90 minutes but would wake up well before our 6:30 dinner. Apparently we woke up to the alarm at 5:30... I don’t remember. I guess I turned it off and only woke up once Chelsay checked her phone. 6:20. Woof. I say all this only to give you an idea of the mental state I was in over dinner. It was similar to that infamous Innsbruck dinner, where Chelsay and I giggled through our whole meal in a tired haze. After our mains, I asked Chelsay if it was time to call it a night... Despite having sour straws in the room, she insisted we stay at the restaurant for dessert. “Alright, well if we’re going to be here awhile, I need some extra bug spray.” I stumbled back to the room and, as I was re-applying, I heard singing in the distance. “Must be the ‘Kava Social’ by the fire pit,” I thought. ...These resorts always put on a show. Still in a sleepy haze, I leisurely made my way back to Chelsay. As I got closer though, I realized the singing wasn’t coming from the fire pit… it was coming from the restaurant. I turned the corner and could see they were surrounding Chelsay and I’s table... and Chelsay had her hands clasped over her mouth... and they weren’t making eye contact with her... and they had a cake. OH NO! They’d been singing this whole time for me!!!! Ahhhhh-I rushed back to the table, face bright red, and started clapping along as they sang a Fijian happy birthday song. I don’t know what they sang actually... it could’ve been the alphabet. I just tried to focus on Chelsay and not on the fact that the song had been going for at least three minutes. I thought to myself, “Chelsay must be so embarrassed!” And then I thought, “Oh no everyone thinks I was taking a shit!” The song finally wrapped up, and the waiters were laughing with Chelsay and I. They accusingly pointed out that it was the longest they’ve ever had to sing happy birthday… “Guys, I swear, I was putting on more bug spray!” Luckily a nearby couple caught the awkwardness of camera.

The next morning, Chelsay and I had scheduled back-to-back dives. We’ve been diving quite a bit recently, but it was still fun to float around the bottom of the ocean. Much like the local humans, Fijian fish seemed incredible friendly: the sea life was very comfortable with divers, staring back at Chelsay and I from only a few inches away.

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After our dives, Chels and I took a 1.5 hour hike around the island, stopping at a secluded beach for private snorkelling. Along the hike, the resort had set up a few small exercise stations. One station was a tire flip... like what NFL prospects train with. This is probably why all the Polynesian players are so big. Anyway, Chelsay challenged me to flip it and I did so without difficulty. It must not have looked hard, because Chelsay confidently stepped up to try it herself. She bent down, grabbed the tire, lifted from her legs for less than one millisecond, and walked away with nothing but a “Nope.”

At dinner that night, first of all, there were no birthday song surprises. Second, we had phenomenal steak with a spread of beetroot, pea, and garlic purée. It was exceptional, as was every meal we ate at Paradise Cove. This can’t be overstated. I mentioned earlier that food in many Yasawan islands is poor, often limited to rice and fries. These resorts just aren’t prepared to meet all vacation comforts... Paradise Cove was ready though. Over our three days, we enjoyed tasty local kokoda, beef lettuce wraps, coconut crusted chicken, and their many fresh catches of the day.

The next morning, Chelsay and I joined a snorkel excursion through a nearby island channel. In Fiji, these channels serve as a funnel for pods of manta rays, which are probably my favorite non-dog animal. See, ever since our failed hunt for mantas in the Maldives, I’ve had an appreciation for how hard they are to find. Even though we’ve since seen entire pods of mantas, I’ll always jump at the slightest chance to see another. Our boat between the two islands, and the guide jumped in the water. He wore a weight belt so that he could sink down where the mantas swim, which I only mention because I want to remember how easily he descended 10 meters (30 feet), sitting in the dark blue for 2 minutes before resurfacing. This guy is a fish. On the other hand, Chelsay had a less graceful descent. When we scuba dived the day before, we exited the boat by sitting on the ledge, tanks over the water, and just falling backwards. The weight of the tank would naturally fall into the water and 360-degree flip you back to the surface. When snorkelling though, you don’t have the weight of the tank. Chelsay threw herself back and entered the water, but was too buoyant to complete a flip. She’d contoured herself into an arch, with her belly sticking out of the water and fins frantically trying to rotate over. She probably scared the mantas away. It took about 30 minutes of tense anticipation, but while staring down at the blue abyss, we heard the guide yell, “Manta!” Chelsay and I swam over quickly to take in the majestic giant. At around 3 meters wide, this female manta was bigger than me, yet swam with such gentle grace. Its grace is deceptive though, because it’s actually still moving quickly - between our hunt and subsequent chase, I probably swam 3 km that morning.

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Chels and I were tired when we got back to Paradise Cove, but it was our last day so we decided to snorkel the house reef one more time. It was cool to see the soft coral again, but we were pooped. I actually had to tow Chelsay back: you know, when I swim in front and my wife just holds onto my foot.

As I was towing her, we passed over a shallow part of the reef but I kept powering along. Suddenly, Chelsay let go of my foot and started slapping the water. I stopped in my tracks, unsure what she was freaking out about. She swam off, so I followed, and it wasn’t until we’d gotten to shore that she told me what it was: apparently a venomous white-banded sea snake popped out and launched within 1.5 ft of me. That was enough sea life for this trip, so we spent the rest of the day on the resort’s inflated jungle gym. We laughed, played around, and attempted backflips (key word: attempted). Just a reminder that I’d turned 30 a few days before.

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That note actually transitions well into my conclusion…

A lot of people get anxious about their 30th birthday. It isn’t a vitality thing - too early for that - but the anxiety comes more from gauging where you are vs where you thought you’d be. Life isn’t a checklist, but it’s natural to have expectations for when you turn 30, 40, etc. Well, I’m writing this from my villa patio in Fiji, so I’m nailing the “Where you are” part. To answer that question less literally though, I’ll instead consider “Where I am” against Chelsay and I’s life motto, something we wrote in our wedding vows: “We’ll never let age get in the way of our youth.” This is perfect motto for age-related milestones because youth isn’t a concept tied to age. It isn’t chapter in your life that just fades away. It’s a mindset, and it’s one you can measure whether you’re 5, 20, 30, 40, or 80. To be youthful is to be energetic, playful, and optimistic. Now I’m technically 30, but this milestone age doesn’t bother me. “Where I am” is energetic enough to swim with Mantas, playful enough to laugh at awkward cake situations and splash around on an inflatable jungle gym, and optimistic enough to make a celebratory Fiji weekend happen despite all of life’s complexities. I’m not worried about turning 30, because after the past weekend, I know I’m as youthful as I’ve ever been.

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mcrpg-archive · 7 years

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NATHANIEL ABRAM HOLLAND

“Happy birthday, Jr.”

a f f i l i a t i o n : Himself primarily, Cartel Pinilla, Fujioka Family

Nathaniel Abram Holland, better known by his alias 'The Butcher', and the string of mostly unsolved murders, is a criminal whose territory stretches far beyond the borders of La Juventud. But that is to be expected of someone who was born into a life of crime... especially when it comes to the Pinilla's. See, Nathaniel is Sal's uncle, half brother to Sal's father -- and illegitimate children didn't really get the same perks as the rest of the family. So, Nathaniel made his own way in life... ultimately working his way up the food chain and secretly working for the Fujioka family. He mostly works the borders of La Juve and surrounding territories, but ever since his son, Ziggy Holland gave him the slip, he's found himself tracking the little fucker down. After all, he's not one to cross, and stealing from him has consequences in the form of heavy blows and a shallow grave. Though, there is just one tiny problem with that... he can't technically kill Ziggy, having promised him to the Fujioka's when he was just a toddler. Still, no matter how far or how fast Ziggy runs, Nathaniel is determined to get ahold of him and hand him over to the family he secretly serves... if not kill him for his theft and disobedience.

IN DEPTH

Please excuse the rambling, but this will give you some added insight. Let’s start from the beginning. Nathaniel Holland’s childhood wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t particularly ideal either. He was raised with the same luxuries as his siblings, but because he was only half Pinilla, he had to work twice as hard to get not only his parent’s approval, but his whole family as well. He’s not jealous of his brother, who is Sal’s father. But he absolutely hates being talked down to, and hates being seen as inferior. The Pinillas don’t treat him like an equal… well. People that work FOR the Pinillas DO treat him as though he were a full blooded Pinilla. It’s just his immediate family and some close uncles and cousins that don’t. Not to mention his step mother was always a little more hesitant around him – having to raise a child that wasn’t her own, and was, in fact, the product of an affair her husband had with someone else. This sparked a desire in him to make a name for himself – outside of ‘Pinilla’. This leads him to venture away from home, with his father’s blessing, of course. Not that Nathaniel told his father everything – he didn’t. Else he would have never been given permission to leave. Drawn to authority and power, two things he was denied growing up, he becomes obsessed with playing God and gets himself into quite the murder spree. This catches the attention of The Fujioka family, who would rather not get blood on their own hands, and thus see an opportunity in Nathaniel. They hire him to take care of any problems they happen to have, and Nathaniel is only too eager to oblige. He finds he gets a certain respect from The Fujioka family that he didn’t get with the Pinillas. At some point, and this is totally up for reworking as well, Nathaniel spends some time in Toronto, where he meets Ziggy’s mother. I imagine they used to be in love at one point, but when Nathaniel left Toronto to pursue other opportunities, time not only hardened him, but changed her as well. She became an addict, and only realized she was pregnant when she started to show. She wasn’t very good at staying clean, and gave birth to Ziggy – who was actually born an addict due to his mother’s habits. It’s a miracle, really, that he survived and was born fairly normal. When Nathaniel returns to Toronto, he looks her up and is both shocked and fuming that she’s living in a homeless shelter with his son. A son she never told him about – and, yes, she did have means of contacting him, which is why he was so pissed. This prompts him to smuggle them both out of Canada to live under his supervision. For a long time, Ziggy’s mother isn’t allowed to see Ziggy in their own home. Just because she was a little crazy with being deprived drugs. Nathaniel was trying to get her clean. Not that he much cared about her at this point, but he couldn’t be seen in public with a wife who was clearly high out of her mind. This leaves Ziggy to be raised primarily by Nathaniel, which is exactly what he wanted. And he took Ziggy with him to meet with the Fujioka family – mostly because he didn’t trust nannies. The Fujioka’s have always taken a particular interest in children, because they see them as easy to mold into what they want. But they also don’t want just any children – they want the best, which leads to Nathaniel training Ziggy up to follow in his footsteps and attempt to desensitize him. Make it easier for him to kill someone, when he needed to. He would make Ziggy practice on small animals and stuff like that, all different methods of torture and killing. Despite Ziggy doing surprisingly well with weaponry, he never really took to killing animals. And so the disappointment begins. So, Nathaniel’s a pretty strict parent. He planned out Ziggy’s day from start to finish, and only allowed him one pleasure that was really all his – and that was skateboarding. Realising this, he began using it as leverage to get Ziggy to do what he wanted. And so, he did. But it didn’t mean he was any more comfortable with it. They live this way for only a few years, really, before Ziggy’s mother finally cleans up her act enough to notice everything Nathaniel’s doing. There’s just one problem, though. Ziggy doesn’t really trust his mother, since he was raised to think she was crazy. She eventually convinces him to trust her enough to talk him into leaving Nathaniel with her. She doesn’t want Ziggy to turn out like Nathaniel, and gets in touch with her brother, organizing an escape plan. Everything seems to go off without a hitch… until it doesn’t. While stopping for the night at a motel, Nathaniel finds them and, in a fit of rage, kills Ziggy’s mother and uncle. The cops, however, manage to get there just in time to keep Ziggy from getting killed. Ziggy had managed to slip out of the room and hide with the motel’s owner until police arrived. YOU already know Nathaniel goes to jail, and Ziggy gets sent to live with family members, so I won’t go over that. We’re gonna flash forward to his escape, where he’s living with his uncle at the time. One of many ‘uncles’. They weren’t really related, they were really just associates of The Butcher that took Ziggy in. Unlike his other ‘foster’ families, this uncle put Ziggy to work, dropping him off at a truck stop every day after school to service anyone willing to take an interest in him. (SOMETHING Nathaniel would have never allowed to happen, and he likely killed this associate when he found out. IF he found out). The Pinillas had no knowledge of Ziggy, really. But they heard rumours. Ziggy’s existence wasn’t confirmed for them until they caught word of Nathaniel’s escape. Because Nathaniel was pissed to arrive at the home of his associate, not only to find Ziggy missing, but also a small chunk of his ‘savings’ missing. Ten grand is petty cash to someone like Nathaniel, but he’ll be damned before he lets anyone steal from him – his son included. What’s worse, that money wasn’t even really his money. It was Fujioka money. He was able to make it back up, so the family wouldn’t notice, but Ziggy still owes him personally. Their relationship NOW is… not that it’s non existent… just that Ziggy is doing everything he can to AVOID Nathaniel. There is nothing that strikes more fear in Ziggy Holland than his own father. He’s absolutely terrified of him. He knows what his father is capable of, and he knows what he did and what the consequences are. He would NOT want to be alone with him, or in the same room as him, in the same anywhere as him, really. If they were ever to cross paths (which, they will, obviously), Nathaniel is extremely charming and persuasive in person. He’d probably play nice with Ziggy AND his friends in public to give everyone the impression that Ziggy’s out of his mind talking smack about him. He’d grab him and pull him in for hugs that Ziggy doesn’t want, whisper little threats in his ear, he might even hurt him a little. The Fujiokas are the only ones outside of the Pinilla family that knows who Ziggy Holland is to Nathaniel. And so, Ziggy fears them as well. Ziggy has a huge tendency to get mouthy, something Nathaniel wouldn’t tolerate if it was directed at him (Ziggy knows better, though), but would find absolutely amusing if it was at anyone else. He hasn’t given up on the idea of turning Ziggy into a weapon, and for him to take on the family business. In fact, he’s only more determined to make it happen now. Even if he’s willing to play it cool and take things a little slow – taunting Ziggy with his presence and keeping him up at night wondering when he’s gonna strike. He’d run into issues with Sal, though… Because Sal is the one that intercepted the call from social services, and pulled some strings to get Ziggy a new birth certificate showing him to be Sal’s son. Because, again, the Pinillas were only certain of Ziggy’s existence and relation to Nathaniel once Nathaniel escaped. (He made a big fuss about being stolen from by his own son). It should be noted that Sal and Ziggy had met once before, when Ziggy was real little. But Ziggy was never introduced to Sal, so that explains why they weren’t sure what Ziggy was to Nathaniel, and why Ziggy was so paranoid over seeing Sal again at social services. He genuinely thought Sal was going to turn him over to his dad.

NEED TO KNOW

Actual axe murderer.

Spent the last several years incarcerated for the murder of Ziggy's mother and uncle after they tried to run off with Ziggy in tow.

During his incarceration, Ziggy was bounced around from relative to relative, no one wanting to keep him for very long. And when Ziggy heard his father broke out of prison, he packed himself a bag and took ten grand of his dad’s money and fled, not wanting to see him ever again.

Once tracked Ziggy down to Los Angeles, where he broke into the home he was staying in and got into a scuffle with Ziggy's friend. Nathaniel slaughtered the guy, which in turn gave Ziggy just enough time to give him the slip... again.

Sal Pinilla, who was also trying to locate Ziggy, happened to intercept a call from Social Services meant for Nathaniel and managed to get ahold of Ziggy before Nathaniel could. The meeting at the Social Services office was tense, to say the least, as Ziggy assumed Sal was working for his father.

Upon finding out all the abuse and torture Ziggy had gone through at the hands of Nathaniel, Sal had the family pull some strings so he could legally adopt the boy, and vowed to end Nathaniel himself.

Often referred to as the 'Gringo' by the Pinillas.

The Pinillas are split about 50/50 on Nathaniel. Some of them like him and admire him, while others despise him. And the situation with Ziggy has caused a minor rift in the family.

Personally taught Ziggy from an early age to use knives and guns, and had plans for Ziggy to continue the family business, going so far as to promise him to the Fujioka family.

Initially, he did not know he had a son. It was only when Ziggy was about two years old that he found out he had a son and immediately pulled the toddler and his mother out from the slums of Moss Park, Toronto to live with him in California.

Used to send Ziggy to school with security guards to watch over him, and never let him or his mother out of anyone’s sight.

Made a tradition of killing and torturing people in front of Ziggy for his birthday. One for every year he’d aged.

Heavily based on Nathan Wesninski from The Foxhole Court/All For The Game Series.

Faceclaim: Skeet Ulrich - somewhat negotiable. Alternative fcs: Ben Hill First and Middle name are somewhat negotiable Last name is non negotiable for obvious reasons

#nathaniel holland #north resident #created by: ziggy holland #( the butcher )#( m )#( all )#( cartel pinilla )#( fujioka )#( human )#( wolf )#all #( open male )#( o p e n | MC )#open

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