Die Hard Tvtropes Novels & Stories

They didn't even listen to me. "Treasure, your husband owes us a lot more than money and will pay with his life." one of them laughed. "And with you." added the other. NOWADAYS What did Jack owe to those people? Would I ever find out? I became a detective to send people like them to prison. And I wouldn't give up. I didn't understand why Richard became a criminal after such people took his mother's life. My husband was killed too, but I didn't become a criminal, did I?

Her eyes never leave mine. A tablet lay on the table in front of the board members. I didn’t need to see the screen to know what was on it, it was the video. One of the board members cleared his throat. “Professor Hart, we have received extremely disturbing material this morning from the head director who happens to be your wife seated right here.” I stood still, hands balled into a fist by my side. Marian folded her arms with satisfaction as they played it.

"I'm sorry, Xavier. Please believe me. It was an accident. I may have been a terrible mother, but I am Queenie's mother. I would never harm her on purpose. I had no idea Shawn used so many pills." I stared at her coldly, unmoved by the tears she shed. "You had every chance to be a good mother, but you threw them all away. How many times did you even hold her, from the day she was born until she was gone? "If you wanted to be with your 'one true love,' you could have just asked for a divorce. But you couldn't give up the Bedrock Family's money, could you? "You wanted it all—wealth, the Bedrock Family's support, and love. You wanted too much, Sandra. You were too greedy.

I huff out a frustrated breath and then a groan. I roll out of bed and head into the kitchen to search the junk drawer for batteries, muttering the entire time. "Fuck Moon. Fuck my vibrator, and fuck my life." I pull half of the contents of the drawer out and can't find a single fucking battery. I stomp to my desk and scrounge through each drawer. I find one triple A, but I need double A's. I peer around the room in desperation and spy the two remote controls. The black plastic has a lip that says Press above it. I press. I slide. I break a damn fingernail before the back slides off. It's the controller for the DVD player and of course, my bad luck holds because it has triple A's. In a tantr

3 is still gossiping. [STATES...] A man is facing the computer while playing his favorite game, Rules of Survival (ROS). While he is constantly playing, his guardian is constantly telling stories to him. "Some people know that you here because you were born ugly. They brought you here to have plastic surgery." Diego told him. "No! I don't have any plastic surgery. I will punch them all! Argh!" said the man angrily who was just facing the computer and focused on what he was playing. "They say you look like a monster. Hahaha!" it's still a story but it's obviously insulting.

He finally gave up as we were five feet away from him. “Sdonnnt hurks mees!” He slurred out He happened to fall in front of a large hole in the ground that the electric company was working on burying cable. Perfect! I just bent down and grabbed his shirt, bringing him to his knees. His attempts to fight me off were futile as I out-powered him easily. Wasting little time, snapping his neck and letting his body fall into the hole. This way, it looked like he staggered into the whole and broke his neck on the fall.

Face down beside a stack of canned chickpeas, because apparently in the new hierarchy of useful objects, chickpeas outrank doomscrolling. Then she looks toward the living room. “Dex?” she calls. “Yeah?” His voice comes back warm, distracted. “What are you watching?” “A guy tried to jump over a barbecue.” “And?” “He did not respect the barbecue.” Maya closes her eyes for half a second. There. Normal Dex. Normal apartment. Normal idiot internet content. The world outside still pretending it is not on a countdown. The voice is inside her. Lovely. “Identify yourself,” she says.

But as he leaned back in his chair and stretched, he sounded old and tired. “That would be nice, of course. But it isn’t going to happen.” “DNA? I saw all of those shows. What if you get his DNA?” Her eyes, they were wild. She could feel it. Could feel that she was so close, so incredibly close to this monster. Letting him walk away? She couldn’t do it.

After being abroad for five years for work, I followed the address given by my boyfriend, Gavin Hayes, and arrived at what was supposed to be our future home. The door swung open, and a young woman stood there holding a child in her arms. “Who are you looking for?” Before I could even gather myself from the shock, she spoke again. “A colleague of my husband Gavin, are you? “Did he trouble you with dropping off food for me? “I’ve told him countless times. It’s my second pregnancy—he really needs to stop getting so worked up over it.” She stepped back, then invited me inside. “Why don’t you come in and sit for a bit?” Watching her beam with joy, all I could think of was Gavin’s promise to take

At a party hosted at our house, my husband sang a soul-stirring rendition of “Missing You Tonight". He poured his heart into it, his eyes misty and his voice raspy with emotion. I secretly recorded a video and posted it online. To my surprise, the video blew up. Hundreds of thousands of likes poured in, with the comment section overflowing with sympathy. Laughing, I handed my phone to my husband. “Jacob, you went viral.” The top-voted comment read: [Girl, I’m not one to stir up drama, but your husband looks like he’s nursing a broken heart.] I thought he’d just laugh it off with a half-hearted smile. Instead, he took the phone and looked me straight in the eye with dead seriousness. “Yo