#I’m just a wee teenager with a keyboard

[spell-cleaver]

The #WritingGoals mutual

Gahsjdjs 🥺🥺

[writingismyhappytime]

Escaping Grace

A/N: So I wrote this fanfic over 4 years ago when Blackveilbridesfanfiction.com was still a thing, and there's been a lot change with the band since then. It's one of my first fics to ever write --- actually, it IS THE FIRST fan fiction I ever wrote.I'm going to do some editing to it before it's posted here from its original content since my style is a little different, so it's doubtful there'll be as many chapters, but I still hope you enjoy it! (And please don't judge, I was just a wee babe when I started out. Or judge gently. Well, I actually I judged it pretty hard when reading back through it.)I've rewrote it significantly so much that the plot has changed here and there, as I didn't like the previous at all. It was terrible, I'm going to be honest. I'm going to include in each chapter  references for lyrics used from other bands, as I'm absolutely no musical artist and not clever enough to come up with my own for Escape From Grace to use in their music, so look for that at the end of each posted chapter should it come up.

A sound of immense excitement escapes my lips before I can stop it as I stare at our manager; he's barely made it halfway through his sentence but he has my full attention. I clasp my hands together as I straighten, grinning from ear to ear as I bite my lip.

This is the best news I've ever had. In my entire life.

Well, second best, getting signed on as a band was a pretty big memory to me, and all the people in the room as well. Coming from a nowhere town and being a nobody, working all those bars and gigs trying to get attention --- how we got so lucky, I'm not sure, but I'm thankful. We would still be struggling to make it if it wasn't for our manager, so I'm pretty grateful to him.Even more so now that he just gave this announcement.

I'm so getting him some donuts for our next meeting.

"Well, I'm glad you're taking the news so well," our manager says after a moment with raised brows, and I can feel my cheeks start to heat as everyone looks at me. I give him a sheepish look of apology, leaning back in my chair and trying to contain my excitement.

Still, he had to know I would be excited about this! Sure, we're a signed band, for a record label, but it's still a struggle. Even signed we still have a lot of work to do, and it would be too easy to fall into obscurity or be a one hit wonder, which isn't something that I want. This is going to be the rest of my life, it's what I want more than anything, and I'm not going to let this opportunity slip past me.

We're just getting our footing as a band, trying so hard to break out into a scene already full of so many talented people. Sometimes it's overwhelming and I feel like we've hit a brick wall, like we're never going to climb any higher. No one makes it quick big in this business, I guess, which is another reason why I'm so excited, why this is so important --- it could be our big break!We've been mostly openers for other bands in the last year, with one small tour through a few cities that gave us a lot of publicity, but nothing like this! Per our lovely manager, we're going to be opening for Black Veil Brides on several different occasions on their upcoming tour! They're one of my favorite bands, their songs feature themselves on all my playlists, and the fact we're going to meet them!

Oh, I can't stand it.

Is it suddenly really hot in this room?

I squirm in my seat, chewing my lower lip thoughtfully as Craig continues with the announcement. He was just going over the usual bits, we have a meeting pretty frequently about our lined up gigs and to be on better behavior than the last few. Some, or rather one of us, likes to get tipsy and flirt with fangirls, and despite his occupation as a drummer, still makes the boyfriends fairly upset.

My eyes flick to the blonde drummer not paying any of us a bit of attention, looking at his phone and swiping left or right occasionally. He looks exhausted, black rings under his eyes; I'm surprised he even managed to make the meeting today.

"When's the first show?" Clarke, our bassist, asks, his feet propped in my lap as he leans his chair back, teetering precariously on the back legs. He doesn't seem near as excited as I am about this, but he's never really been that into the type of music that we're playing. He was more into the hardcore, metalish type, which as hard as I might try, my voice just wasn't cut out for. I'm always waiting for the day he's going to drop the bomb that he's ditching us for something more his speed, but I wouldn't blame him.

Take an opportunity where you can get it.

"Three weeks," Craig replies, checking his watch. He's always kind of in a rush when it comes to us, we're not exactly his biggest moneymakers, but I like to think we're not at the bottom either. I mean, it would be nice to actually meet in an official space and not the breakroom of the record label, but I have the feeling maybe Craig doesn't exactly have a ton of pull and probably doesn't have his own office to see us in.

Still, he's been good to us, and I appreciate it. The fluorescent lights above dim a little before getting brighter, reflecting off his shiny bald head. He has thick old man eyebrows that are seriously in need of a trim, and absolutely no facial hair to speak of, which you'd think he'd want to balance out the baldness, but I digress. He's not a thin or tall man, and he has a thing for chunky watches and outdated t-shirts that makes him look like a suburban dad instead of any sort of manager.

"That's coming up pretty quick, don't ya think? We have some stuff already booked, don't we?" Vale looks nervous, shifting in the blue plastic chair beside me. Her gray-painted eyes flick to me, but I give her a bright, reassuring smile she reluctantly returns after a moment. She's my lead guitarist, my backup vocalist, my roommate, and my best friend. She holds many titles very dear to me, in fact. Without her, there's no telling where I would be right now. "And why us, exactly?"

"Well," our manager rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat and pretending to study the notes jotted down on Subway napkins in front of him. "Another band was going to open for them, but their lead singer has to have his tonsils removed. So, I pulled some favors, and got you guys signed instead!" He grins at us, looking very pleased with himself as he shoots us some obnoxious finger guns.

Vale rolls her eyes as she leans back in her chair, giving him an unimpressed look. She tugs on the end of her long black hair thoughtfully. "Well, you're certainly not letting us fade into obscurity, I'll give you points for that."

Craig looks satisfied with the response.

I glance around the round table we all sit at. Vale to my left who is now focusing on fixing her black eyeliner in a compact, and her brother Clarke where he's casually chatting with Craig as if he's actually interested in the gig. Our drummer, Nate, has finally passed out against the whiteboard behind him, and I'm pretty sure that's a sheen of drool on his chin.

I'm the lead vocalist, the frontperson of our band, and I also play keyboard when it's called for. I've always been close with Clarke and Vale, we grew up together as neighbors. It was their idea to form a band and get out of our old town, and when Nate joined us, it seemed like we might actually have a shot. It still blows my mind that we've made it this far without something breaking us up.

I've never had a lot of good luck, but maybe it's all been building up for this.

"Sooo --- do we get to meet the band beforehand?" I ask Craig, trying not to sound as eager as I feel but probably failing. I wanted to meet them, every single one of them, gawk at them like a fangirl meeting their idol, and wholeheartedly embarrass myself. "Where's the venue? When do the shows start? Are we going to get a bus this time or are you going to make us ride in your minivan again like a gothic soccer mom? Y'know that's not really going to give us the badass impression we're going for."

Vale snorts, biting her lip to hold back a laugh as Craig sighs heavily.

"Just be lucky I had a van to get you all to that show, alright?" He grumbles, but the experience had been mortifying. Just getting started, our actual ride breaks down, and suddenly Craig rolls up in a blue minivan with proud parent stickers on the back glass and yells at us to get in. Never again.

"But yes, you do get to meet the guys beforehand." Craig states, rubbing his jaw. "The lead singer, whathisname, wants to meet you guys before the first show. He's probably going to measure you up and make sure you're up for opening for his band. You guys need to make a good impression," he warns us, as if I'm not already planning on murdering whoever embarrasses us first; only I get to feel humiliated, no one else gets to do it for me!

He glances at Nate where he snoozes, and I know the warning is more for him then anything, but he's sleeping, so it's not really having any effect.

I feel like some tween girl meeting her boyband idol for the first time, being presented with front row tickets to his show. I rub my hands nervously against my thighs, ignoring the dampness my nerves are causing.

I'm the youngest in the band. I've known Vale and Clarke since I was twelve, and without them I doubt I would have made it through my teenage years. Or any years, if I really wanted to admit it to myself. I owed them a lot, more than I could ever pay back, but I'm hoping with our success that'll be enough.

"I heard he was an asshole when Asking Annie opened for them in Vegas." Clarke says, not looking at all thrilled. I frown at him, and shove his legs out of my lap for such a crappy comment. He knows I love that band! He ignores me, letting them drop easily to the floor before straightening in his chair; he better be glad I didn't tip him over!

"To be fair, Alex, their lead singer, is totally dopey and he can only perform while high, so," Vale closes her compact with a snap, the lights glinting off her dark nailpolish. "I would've been an asshole to him too. This is really good for us, guys. This could be it, y'know? None of us are going to screw this up by being rude or listening to rumors. I don't even care if they're true; the publicity this is going to bring us is worth it."

Well, she makes a good point, and Clarke concedes; that or he just decides ignoring his younger sister is better than arguing and just looks away. I'm sure the microwave in the corner has suddenly become much more interesting than the conversation.

I tap a nail against the table thoughtfully, still having a hard time believing this. We're finally getting a big break, with a band that I know at least two of us like, so that's a good thing! I thought earlier I was going to pass out from how hard my heart was beating, how excited I got at the prospect of meeting them.

"Is this not the best news ever?" I sigh as I look at everyone, unable to contain my glee. "Ever? Like seriously? Do you guys know how great this is?"

"Saying it multiple times doesn't make it true," Clarke mumbles, for some reason intent to find a reason to not be as excited as I am. He's always so serious and cautious, ever the distrustful one. Well, I suppose when you're the oldest in a band that you're younger, reckless sister is in, you sort of have to be the adult and the ringleader; hell, I'm the lead singer, but I listen to him and take his advice to heart.

"It'll give you guys a good amount of exposure," Craig states, folding his arms along the laminated tabletop. "Hopefully it'll kickstart some more sales of the new album you're about to drop."

"And Leah will get to meet the object that she lusts so much after," Vale adds with a chuckle.I send her a horrible look, ignoring the heat burning my cheeks; she doesn't have to mention that in front of everyone.

"Really? Which one?" Craig looks amused, and sometimes I get the feeling he sees us more as his kids than business partners. I mean, I think he does have some teenage girls, or boys maybe, I'm not quite sure, so he probably deals with this all the time. Crushes, heartbreak, the need of a minivan for emergencies.

"The lead singer, Andy. It's the voice I think, the deep drawl and that nice hair ---."

"Vale."

Vale giggles, winking at me as she twists the end of her long hair absently. She's enjoying watching me squirm, but really it's no secret. I mean, I wasn't exactly discussing my interests with Craig in that area, but I suppose it doesn't matter now.

Just makes things a little awkward.

"Andy Biersack? Really?" Our manager doesn't look impressed with my choice of crush. "Why am I surprised over this?"

I sink a little in my chair, merely shrugging my shoulders.

Craig just shakes his head before he starts getting to his feet, grabbing his note napkins and folding them together. He's never very organized, but I like to think it's one of his quirky qualities. He tucks the napkins into his shirt pocket, says goodbye to us, and heads for the archway leading to the hall.

One of these days, maybe we'll actually have a meeting room.

"Oh." Craig's head suddenly pops back into the kitchen, holding the end of a torn napkin. "I forgot to mention. You're meeting the love of your life at Club Rehab tomorrow at eight. Don't be late, dress to impress."

"What!?"

Craig suddenly is one, and I stare after him in horror. "Did he just say we were meeting them tomorrow?"

"Mmm." Vale looks thoughtful. "Dress to impress, like don't we always?" she snorts, cutting her eyes at her brother. "Don't be an ass, and yes you're coming. Wake up Nate so we can fill him in."Clarke frowns, glancing at the snoozing drummer, his lips parted as his head lolls back and forth; he's getting marker all in his freshly dyed blonde hair.

"I suppose we don't need to look like losers when we meet them." I mumble as I prop my chin on my hand, watching as Clarke kicks Nate's chair easily with his long legs, causing Nate to wake in a panic, sputtering. He looks around wild-eyed for a few moments before he realizes he's not under attack, then sends Clarke a scowl.

"What was that for!?"

"Rise and shine, Snow White. You slept through the meeting but we have news."

"I wasn't asleep," Nate mutters, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand, blue eyes bloodshot. "I didn't miss anything."

"Were you out late again partying?" Vale looks annoyed with him, her full lips drawing into a frown. She's one of the prettiest people I've ever met, I sort of envy how she always looks so put together and confident. She's tall, but the right kind of tall that's not too tall, and slim, able to wear whatever she wants and she never has problems finding her clothes in the store.I'm much shorter, and I might as well shop in the toddler section to find jeans that aren't too long for me.

"No," our drummer retorts, running his hands down his face. Yeah, sure bud, those black circles under your eyes say something different. Nate was a partier, he was even before he joined us, we knew that. He knew all the best places to have a good time, and I'm fairly sure he doesn't usually get out of bed until noon or he has to meet us. Sometimes you could still smell the cheap perfume and booze off the wrinkled shirt he doesn't change. I like him well enough, but some people shouldn't have fame or too much money, it isn't such a good thing.

Be famous responsibly.

Clarke quickly explains what Nate's missed during his impromptu nap, and our drummers eyes light up. He likes the other bands drummer, admires his techniques, and even his sleepy head knows this is a big deal for us.

Momentous, really.

"When do we meet them?" he asks eagerly, rubbing his arm.

"Tomorrow, and don't come smelling like a bar." Vale replies, staring him down beneath thick black lashes; she has a fierce glare, I'll give her that. She gets to her feet, stretching her arms in front of her. She nudges her chair under the table, and we all sort of follow suit as we get to our feet. Nate mocks her slightly before taking a sniff of himself, only to grimace.

Everything is going to go great tomorrow, that's what I'm going to keep telling myself. We're going to make a fantastic impression, we'll be charming and humorous and they'll want us to open every show! Or, actually, we'll be so famous they'll be opening for us by the time it's over with.

I can dream.

Just.... oh my god.

What exactly am I going to wear?

I look at Vale in utter panic. She could wear a paper bag and look fantastic, but it's not that easy for me.

What if I go in there wearing something horribly mismatched, or that doesn't work at all? What if I look like some Avril Lavigne, pop princess rip off and they don't want us opening? I could say something stupid, insult one of them accidentally, what do we even know about them?

"Why are you making that face?" Nate asks warily as we step out into the hall together. "If you're gonna be sick, aim that way."

"I'm just thinking about tomorrow, don't be a dick." I wait for Vale to catch up with me, seeing she's focused on her phone. "Vale?"

"Mmm?"

"We need to go shopping."

"Shopping?" She sends me an amused look as we fall into step, the worn carpet of the hallway pillowing our footsteps. "Why?"

"Because we need to find something to wear tomorrow."

"You realize whatever you buy you won't wear, and you'll have buyers remorse like you do every time."

"Vale." Now she's starting to stress me!

"Oh, fine, don't freak out. We'll go after we grab some lunch, find something to aww the boys with." she looks amused, and her arm twines with me as we walk. "But don't worry so much, it's just another business meeting. Think of it more like that."

"Is that how you think about every meeting we have?"

"Well, no, I imagine Craig in his underwear and it sort of ruins any intimidation I might feel."

"Well that's a mental image I didn't need."

Vale grins down at me, squeezing my arm as we reach the front desk and give the harried looking secretary a smile as we leave.

I'm worried about tomorrow, but I do tend to worry and be anxious about everything. I might be excited now, but tomorrow I know I'll be an explosion of nerves.I just want everything to go well so badly.

[cmncisspnandmore]

Boy Wonder and Family, Spencer Reid X Reader

Request: Hi possible for a spencer x reader with teenagers?.. that’d be so awesome ! 🙈😁

I hope this is what you were looking for! Enjoy. I might make another part depending on how this goes. This is the longest fic i’ve written and i really enjoyed it! 

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

“Hello?” Spencer put his cell phone to his ear, turning away from JJ, who sat across from him.

“Dad, mom is being totally unreasonable. She won't let me and Lucas go to this really cool party. I told her we would be home by midnight!” His 15 year old daughter whined into the phone.

“I'm on a case, you need to talk to her about it. Besides you know that most of those things have alcohol involved and if she says no it's because she wants to make sure you’re safe.” He replied and ran his fingers through his hair. It was hard on all of you when he was away on a case. Not that the team fully understood what was going on.

“But Dad!” Your daughter whines again.

“I’m sorry, i know you want to but it's up to her.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“I HATE YOU BOTH!” Your daughter screamed into the phone, and she promptly burst into tears.  You watched her sit on the couch talking into your phone trying to convince her father to overrule your verdict. She stood up from the couch, and glared at you.

“I never get to do anything. It's all your fault. You guys make me miserable. I wish you weren't my parents.” She sniffled and threw the phone at you. You caught it against your chest, and tried to keep a straight face as your daughter stormed off into her room.

On the plane Spencer flinched as he heard your daughter yell at you, and say the mean things she didn't mean to you. He held the phone slightly away from his ear, as the door slammed on the other end.

You put the phone to your ear, “Hello?” you softly ask. You weren't sure if Spencer had heard what was going on at home. You took a shaky breath, and swiped your fingers under your eyes, wiping the tears that managed to slide down your cheeks.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, he had a gut feeling that you were upset about what your daughter Atlas had said.

“I told her not to call you, i know how you feel about being called on a case. She didn't listen, we had a huge argument earlier about this stupid party. She feels like i'm taking her teenage years away from her. “ You tuck your knees up on the couch and pull a pillow into your lap.

“She doesn't mean what she said. She's just mad that we put our foot down. She's got to learn that we are only doing this to keep her safe. She's going to rebel against us. Its typical behavior for them.” Spencer closed the book he had on his lap, and JJ looked over at him. She was trying to figure out who he was talking to. As far as she knew the only people Spencer ever talked to was his mother and her doctors.

“Yeah… I guess..” You mumble and pick at a loose thread.

“I have to go, I will call you when we land okay? I love you” Spencer subconsciously rubs at his left ring finger. His wedding band was safely tucked away in his desk drawer. You understood why he didn't wear it at work. He dealt with a bunch of weirdos and dangerous people. You didn't feel comfortable bringing your family into that. He kept you and your two kids from everyone at work, even his team.

“Kay.. I love you too Spence.” You reply before pulling your phone away from your ear and walking towards your bedroom. As you pass by Atlas’s room you peek in, she's laying on her bed, her headphones in and a book open in her lap. She glances up at you as you peek in, and she glares at you. Pulling one headphone from her ear she gives you a look.

“What mother?” She snaps, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I'm going to bed, I just wanted to say goodnight. I love you Lissy.” You smiles sadly at the angry teenager.

“Yeah whatever.” She puts her headphone back in her ear and goes back to her book. You close her bedroom door and walk to your son Lucas’s door. You knock softly and open it, peering around the door you see Lucas is sitting at his desk, pouring over his school books. He was so much like Spencer, there was no denying he was going to do great things when he was out of school.

“Lucas? Hey buddy.” You smile and your son spins his chair around. He looks at your for a moment before standing up and walking to you.

“Hey mom, i heard you and Atlas earlier.” He glances down at you, he runs a hand through his hair.

“I'm sorry you had to hear that.” You mumble and tuck a strand of your H/C hair behind your ear.

“Its okay, i understand why you won't let us go. I know dad wouldn't let us go either.” He shrugs and puts his hand on your shoulder before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“I just wanted to say goodnight. I love you sweetheart.” You run your thumb across his cheek and he smiles at you, before going back to his desk.

“I love you too mom. Goodnight”

You close the door and make your way to your room where you quickly shower and put on a pair of silk pajamas before laying your head down on your pillow and falling asleep.

~~~

Your alarm blares, and you quickly turn it off, you sit up in bed and rub your hands over your (E/C) eyes. Giving one last stretch you quickly get dressed in a pair of jeans and a black shirt, you grab one of Spencers cardigans and pull it on, the house chilly in the wee hours of the morning.

You make your way to the kitchen passing by both your children's closed the doors. Your automatic coffee pot filling the hallway with the enticing scent of a much needed cup of coffee. You make yourself a cup of coffee and sit at the breakfast bar, pulling out your laptop you go over a few emails for work. After an hour of replying to emails you stand up. You felt bad about your fight with Atlas the night before, maybe a breakfast of her choice will make up for not letting them go to the party.

You go to her bedroom door and knock. No answer, which was weird because she was always a light sleeper, even as an infant. You knock again. Still nothing. You twist the handle and push the door open, and your heart drops. Her bed is empty and made perfectly, like no one had slept in it last night.

“ATLAS?” You call and look around her room, but her stuff is gone, her phone and her wallet. She was nowhere to be found in her room. You try to swallow the panic that is bubbling up in your throat and go to Lucas’s door and the same sight greets you in his room. Your children are nowhere to be found in the house, you search it top and bottom. There was no note or indication either of them had been here last night after you went to bed.

You grab your phone and call their cellphones, but they both go straight to voicemail. You're trying to keep your cool, you call their friends parents and they all report that they haven't seen them, or heard from them. You heart hammers in your chest and you dial Spencer crying.

He answers on the third ring, “Hello?”

“The-They’re gone.. I can't find them. Oh god S-Spencer i don't know where they are.” You cry into the phone.

“Y/n? What? What's going on? Who’s gone?” Spencer asks, stopping in his tracks as the team continues to walk into the police station they were working out of.

“The twins… Oh god Spencer i went to bed and they must've gone to that party after i fell asleep.” You sit down on the couch, your chest heaving. You felt sick, the two most important people in your life were missing.

“Its okay… We… We’ll find them.” Spencers heart feels like it has dropped onto the concrete beneath his feet.

“We have to find them.” You cry into the receiver.

“Just stay at the house. I will be on the first flight back.” He tells you before hanging up and runs into the station. He stops in front of Hotch, his eyes wild.

“Hotch i have to go home. Now. Like right now.” Spencer rushes out, and grabs his curly hair with shaky hands. Hotch stands up straight, and places a hand on the young profilers arm.

“Reid, take a deep breath, what's going on?” Hotch asks, it was very rare that he saw Reid this bent out of shape.

“My.. my kids. They’re missing.” Spencers eyes fill with tears and the senior profiler shakes his head not believing what he just heard.

“Kids? Spencer you don't have any kids.” This gets the rest of the teams attention and JJ comes over, followed by Morgan.

“What about kids?” JJ asks, looking between Hotch and Reid.

“Yes, i do. I have twins, they’re 15 and their names are Atlas and Lucas. I got a girl pregnant when i was 18, her name is Y/N. She's beautiful we’ve been married for 16 years.” Spencer rambles out.

“Why didn't you tell us? You never wear a ring.” Morgan crosses his arms over his chest, confused by the genius’s confession.

“I-I didn't tell you guys because i didn't want anyone to go after them. You see what we deal with, the people we catch. I couldn't risk them being dragged into this. Please, i have to go find them.” He cries, and JJ wraps her arms around him.

“We’ll help you find them.” She reassures him. After a moment Hotch calls over the police chief and explains that he will have another team be out to help them catch the Unsub. The team quickly packs up and is back on the jet in record time. The team is all sitting around the table, when organ pulls out his phone and dials Garcia.

“What do you have for me sugar?” She quips into the phone.

“Hey baby girl i need you pull up all the information you can on a Lucas Reid and an Atlas Reid.” Morgan replies, and Garcia pauses for a moment.

“Oh my god.” She whispers, “Boy Wonder! I didn't know you had two gorgeous kids.” She gushes.

“I’ll explain later Garcia, but right now i need to know where their cellphones were last.” Reid wrings his hands in his lap and Rossi who hasn't said anything on the situation claps a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll find them kid.” He smiles at Spencer and Garcia taps away on her keyboard.

~~~

Back at home you can't wait for Spencer to call you back any longer and you dial his number. He picks up as you are putting on your coat.

“Y/N? Have they come home?” Spencer rushes out.

“No, I'm gonna go look for them.” You mumble and grab your keys your hands shaking so violently you almost drop them on the tile floor.

“No, don't go to the BAU. We land in 10 minutes, i’ll meet you there. I don't want you going out there by yourself.” Spencer instructs and you take a shaky breath. Your babies were out there somewhere, and you knew you wouldn't be any help if you went off by yourself.

“O-okay.” you hang up and get in your car and drive to the BAU, keeping your eyes open looking for either of your children. You pull up to the BAU 15 minutes later and you see Spencer standing outside the door, with him are the people who you assume are his team. You pull your car into a parking spot and jump out. You dash across the parking lot calling his name. He turns just as you get to him and you launch yourself into his arms. You turn into a sobbing, shaking mess in his arms.

“Shhh. I've got you. We’ll find them. The team will find them.” He mumbles into your hair. You pull back and nod, looking up into his brown eyes.

“Hi Y/N, Im agent Rossi. Why don't you come inside with me and we can get a cup of coffee and tell me about when you last saw them.” Rossi reaches for your shoulder and guides you into the building. Spencer grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze as you make your way up to the offices.

“GUYS! I FOUND THEM!” A blonde in purple heels runs towards you as you make your way down the hall to the conference room.

~~~

“FBI!” The team knocks the front door to the old house in. Rossi, Hotch JJ and Morgan push into the house. Old beer cans litter the floor and it reeks of mold and stale air. They round the corner and they’re huddled under the table in the abandoned kitchen are your kids.

“Under here!” They call and JJ and Morgan kneel down and offer a hand to them.

“Are you Lucas and Atlas?” Morgan asks and Atlas nods, her eyes wide. Her clothes ripped and hair a mess.

“C’mon your parents are outside. I’m Agent Morgan i work with your dad.” He smiles and helps your daughter to her feet. They guide them out of the old house and towards the SUV that you and Spencer are waiting in. You see them as they walk out of the house and you jump out of the black suv and run up to them.

“Oh my god.” You cry, and your kids run to you, they launch themselves into your arms and you all sink to the ground and cry. Spencer runs up to your crumpled forms and your kids grab onto him as well.

“Daddy i was so scared.” You daughter cries.

“I'm so sorry, we won't sneak out again.” Your son cries into your shirt.

“Please don't be mad at us. We’ll listen to you from now on. Im so sorry mom and dad.” Atlas cries and grips the front of your husbands shirt.

“What happened to you guys?” Reid asks, looking over his children as the rest of the team watches from the hood of the car.

“We snuck out to that party, and then there was this creepy guy who showed up and said he knew who we were. I don't know who he was. We left right after that and then he was following us so we hid in here, but i dropped my phone in the woods and Lucas’s was dead.” You daughter explains through her tears.

“We didn't know what to do so we just hid. We thought if we left he would get us.” Lucas explains, and you help both of your kids into the waiting cars.

“You’re safe now. We’ll find that guy okay? Let's go home.” Spencer guides you to the car and you climb into the second row as your kids sit in the third row.

JJ and Morgan climb into the front seats and the team makes its way to your house after Spencer gives them the address. You lean your head on Spencer's shoulder and he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. He presses a kiss into your hair and exhaustion from the events of the past day sets in and you drift off to sleep against his side. Spencer turns around and glances at your children who have fallen asleep against each other, worn out from their night in the old house. He turns back to look out the windshield, and Morgan meets his gaze in the rearview.

“We’ll find who was after your kids.”  And with that Spencer nods and pulls you a little closer as the drive continues.

~~~~

[tothedarkdarkseas]

Since we all love a skeevy Stu, what are the most outrageous or down right embarrassing things Stu's gotten up to with the birds? What lengths will the lad go to in order to impress girls?

(I just want to take a quick second to say thank you all for indulging me. The intersection between shipping Stu and Murdoc, and headcanoning Stu as mostly-straight and a total sleaze can be a lonely place.)

I didn’t realize how long this was, so cut added for length!

I think Stu, for the most part, likes things to be easy. You don’t develop an addiction to painkillers, only get a job “to save up for a new keyboard,” and cause little enough trouble to be described in your rockstar biography as “mild-mannered” because you really like having to sweat for something. It is so, so fortunate for him that he is very tall and very good-looking, so pulling girls was never especially difficult when he was young. I’d imagine 6th form Stu was getting on just fine without straining himself more than a bit of cringe-worthy teenage boy flexing, a bit of bragging. It’s more embarrassing to look in from the outside at Stu putting the moves on, it’s just… you feel sorry that these girls find this desirable right now. You feel better knowing they soon won’t.

That’s sort of the turning point for Stu, I think, once he’s out of school. Things that impressed girls when they were both 16 don’t impress when they’re both 19 or 20. (I realize I’m slightly scooting the years around here, technically Stu’s 19 in August 1997 but I like to imagine him being at least 20 when Murdoc rams the shop and having some more time to be Like He Is before he gets involved with the band.) He fails to realize that when girls come home from uni and let Stu take them for Maccy Ds and a small party at his mate Sean’s place where they can drink and shag, that’s them tossing Stu a bone. That’s practically a pity shag, coming back to Crawley and letting that cute but funny-looking Pot bloke feel them up while they drink bottom-shelf booze neither of them paid for in a flat Stu doesn’t rent. Stu gets laid, but it’s not as easy at that point. Not every girl around town or coming back in town is so interested in taking pity, and many who’d dated him (casually or “seriously”) in school are going on to better things, or settling down with partners, or just not interested in giving Stu Pot another go. All that said, I do reckon Stu added a few touches to his barside How You Doing Darling resume. Stu would never have taken up acoustic guitar if he didn’t know it would impress and be easier to transport than a keyboard, and wouldn’t have kept playing it if he didn’t get to finger Stacey Martins at a beach party that time. (She was like, well fit and minted, she was a dream. Maybe if he’d done a better job she would’ve dated him.) Stu doesn’t really continue with football so much after school which is a shame, but he still wears the kit to the park sometimes and pretends he’s just played a game, ladies, he likes to stay active, now wot you girls up to (in reality, he’s splashed hot water on his face from a public restroom, pushed his wet hair back Just So.) Stu’s bought an assortment of pendants, wrist cuffs and an anklet at the shopping center because various pretty girls were working the counter. He scopes out the talent at karaoke (both on stage and off) to make sure he’ll be the ringer and his performance will be seen by at least 2 women.

And then there’s Paula. Now, Stu goes above and beyond trying to impress Paula. He gives her guitar strings and picks for free. He plays keys in the shops when she’s there and shows off way too obviously. He brings his own guitar in the shop once to play something for her, which ranks in the Top 5 Most Painful Moments of either of their lives. He sells pills on the side to afford to take her out after he realizes how much drinks with her put him in the red. I think Stu gets his first tattoo because of Paula, to look cooler to her. She tells him he’d better not waste her time inviting him up and he pulls his cock out on the empty street, already half hard at the thought of her commenting on it.

Once the band’s off and rolling Stu mostly returns to not having to try that hard, but I still think it’s really funny to imagine he does sometimes– maybe because of a sense of competition with Murdoc, maybe out of the confidence that comes with it. Maybe he likes the performance of it. Maybe he just likes talking about himself. (This may sound like a non sequitur, but hang with me.) I know there’s a lot of crossover between Gorillaz fans and MSI fans due to Jamie’s artwork, but I have this wee young teen memory of an interview with the band, and Stu (and Murdoc) always remind me of an answer from Jimmy: “Would you say that you’re an artist?” “Will it get me laid? Then yes, I am an artiste.” Stu certainly has passions, but I’d say they become a lot more pronounced around women because he reckons that’s dead impressive, right, real tall charming guy who’s in a band and knows about movies and football and weather patterns. He’s got layers, y’know. When Clint Eastwood and later Feel Good hits and Stu starts dating real celebrities it’s definitely nice, but I think it props his ego up even more to go back to the funfair and chat up girls on the dodgems. At the end of the day, I think Stu likes being a big fish in a small pond… but he doesn’t mind having the extra “by the way, I’m the singer in Gorillaz” card in his pocket to flex with.

[osmw1]

Crowbar Nurse   Chapter 1 — Prologue: Travelling Between Worlds Because of my Phone is Normal, Right?

I am a nameless rookie nurse.

My hobby is clearing my mind with video games. In particular, mindless zombie shooters and dating sims that I can enjoy while yapping off with friends are my favorite genres.

… well, it’d be more accurate to say “was”. I ended up being employed by an awful hospital, even though I was super careful with my applications. But because of that, I don’t have any spare time to play my games. I was way above the legal overtime limit but yet, here I was working for free.

Let me go home already… I can’t think straight anymore…

I was tapping away at an outdated computer in the nurses’ station and doing today’s documentation.

The location is Shinjuku. The time, wee hours. A hellhole of a hospital ward with a window to the night outside. The nurses of this ward start their day way too early and end their nights dizzyingly late. Even when neglecting my hunger and hygiene, I can get only four, five hours of precious sleep a day. Such are my circumstances when working hours are this long.

I haven’t really done anything at all lately. I don’t have the time to game or hang out with my friends… the only thing I’ve done other than work is scrolling on my phone…

I silently sighed inside.

Society thinks us nurses to be huge flirts, headstrong, and highly paid. I’m sure there are some out there who are like that. … not me though. I’d say I’m the complete opposite of that.

When I was a teenager, I played games all day and cared too little about looking pretty, leading me straight down the path of being a loner. By the time I did care, I was a university student busy with studying and practicum. Outside of school, my girlfriends and I would be in stupidly high heels and partying like there was no tomorrow.

Though I like talking with people, I was always too timid for my own good. Not only did my seniors always yell at me, I also have literally zero experience in relationships. … I suppose faking it and going to clubs did get me attention from shallow guys, but the thing is that I have never been popular with the opposite sex. That’s why I can’t stand people who are blessed with confidence.

… I’m completely twisted. I know. I’ll probably end up in my thirties with everybody saying that my standards are too unrealistic and no one interested in me…

I sighed out loud this time. And as for the highly paid part? That’s probably not true for me as well. My take home pay is a little over 180,000 with more than 100 hours of unpaid overtime. Still, in this “Land of the Setting Sun”, that’s probably considered well-paid.

There are all sorts of nurses, y’know?

I’m neither well-paid nor well-versed in relationships. I’m just a sham who loves her zombies. I had once prided myself on my love for nursing, but the soul-sucking work as of late led to the flames of my passion burning out. I’m simply a lifeless drone.

Ughhh, I need to let loose and wipe out some zombies… I can’t stand working anymore…

Shoving those memories aside, I begrudgingly returned to recordkeeping. Now, let me describe what a day for a newbie nurse with no time for fun or zombies is like. After five hours of sleep, I wake up and head to my ward. I look up the details of the patients I’m in charge of on the piece of crap computer. Once that’s done, I make sure all the medicine and IV drips are good to go. After handing off things to the night shift, I begin making my rounds. There’s not even a moment spare to get water or go to the washroom. Even when working such a long shift, I say goodbye to lunch breaks if it gets busy. It doesn’t matter your level of seniority, you effectively get only five minutes. If it’s bad, it’s closer to 30 seconds… I fly into the break room, stuff my face with food, and eat it while walking back to the desk. Then, I get back to logging or preparing for the midday debriefing. I’m sure… I’m sure other places are like this too. In every hospital is a ward this depressing.

… oof. Crap. Nearly fell asleep there.

That moment of microsleep was most definitely because of sleep deprivation. The steady chime of the patient monitoring system and the clattering of keyboards from other nurses working overtime fill the room. I glanced at the watch I had stuffed in my pocket—12:30, later than usual.

It’s past midnight already, eh? Still, even when everybody lives around here, Shinjuku at night is still a little dangerous.

Even then, none of us dayshift nurses have gone home yet. That’s just how things work here. I casually looked up from my PC.

Colorful neon signs and lit offices contribute to the dazzling lights in the nightscape. It shone through the window across the hallway from the nurses’ station. Low-intensity aircraft warning lights dotted countless skyscrapers. The red lights on top of the buildings were like a constellation twinkling together. Its beauty never fails to take me out of reality.

 … though I may be sleepy, even at this hour, the streets were not. The lights revealed everybody who was still awake.

Until I started working, I never knew the nights of Shinjuku were created and supported by people like me—the slaves to society.

 People are used and discarded every day to maintain this beautiful dazzling world.

… and just as that thought floated across my mind, my view of the night sky worrisomely fluttered for a moment.

 Hmm…? That’s weird.

I couldn’t tell whether my vision was blurry or that my head wasn’t functioning properly. Though what was very clear was that I was far too tired. Then, I got lightheaded for a split second. As soon as it passed and I breathed a sigh of relief, I clutched my chest in pain.

 I’m going to die… oh yeah, I’m totally dying.

As my heart stabbed with every pulse, I took a deep breath only to find my head spinning again.

… frankly, I’m not doing so well.

This has been a frequent occurrence lately. I hold back the wave of nausea as I struggle to form sentences in my head… then suddenly, the exhausted head nurse rushed over to me in a panic.

“—the management is coming around! Hurry, hide yourself in the linen room!”

Once I realized the head nurse was shouting at me in a quiet voice, she stood me up by my shoulders. And before I knew it, she shoved me into the linen room at the far end of the nurses’ station and slammed the door shut.

… ah, not this again…

I subconsciously sighed. This happens every day in our ward. Basically, it’s to conceal the fact that us newcomers are forced to work overtime. If the head honchos of the nursing department find out, they would chew out the head nurse.

The directive of this sweatshop of a hospital is supposedly to eliminate overtime and, officially, newcomers aren’t forced to do so. That’s why when the head of the department swings by, us newcomers get spirited away.

That’s fine and all, but… damn it. The computers automatically logout after 10 minutes of inactivity, so there goes all my unsaved data…

Looks like I’ll have to redo everything, which means I’m stuck here until at least 1:00. I squatted down and subconsciously sighed again. Guess I don’t have much of a choice but to sleep until they come get me. As I shut my eyes close in exhaustion, I felt a strange vibration coming from my pocket.

 … huh? A notification? I thought I turned off my phone…

I doubted myself as I reached into my pocket. When I took a look at my phone, the screen was pitch black but oddly enough, some text was showing.

… hmm, what’s that? Is that English?

The excessive number of symbols made me question whether it was really English or not. It may have been pitch black, but it was just bright enough that I could tell the screen was on. That and the green text showing clued me in on that.

… what’s all this about? Did some super hacker breach my phone? Wait, are there people who hack smartphones in the first place?

I looked down at the screen in confusion… hmm? What? Hold on… The green text scrolled past at a blistering pace. The line practically disappears as soon I tried to read it!

 “… what?!”

I was fully awake when I reflexively cried out loud but was still too late to cover my mouth shut. The directors should have still been out there on their patrol. I hope they didn’t hear me.

Whaaaaaaat. Huh?! Augh! What’s going on?!

A scene of pure sci-fi unfolded in front of my very eyes. Talk about a complete one-eighty from my depressing daily life.

No, seriously, am I being hacked? Is this what it’s like? This looks more like magic to me though!

Unfortunately, a Neanderthal who can’t even do basic addition on Excel like me had no idea what was happening. I don’t get it… but I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

sudo…? apt-get install? Hey, hey, hey, hey! Don’t go installing anything weird on my phone without my permission! It’s now asking for a password… and it’s being filled in!

My eyes went wide as ••••• popped up in the password field.

But… I didn’t even do anything…

I was speechless. Then, while my jaw was still on the floor, the door violently swung open… as someone came barelling through.

■Protagonist

The protagonist is a super overworked rookie nurse who was on the verge of dying. Once you get her on the topic of zombie games, she'll yap on for even longer than the intro to The Final Countdown—though it's not an opportune moment right now.

contents: /ch001/ /next/

(leave me a tip on Patreon?)

[hollismusic]

Adventures in Home Recording (Part II - Learn from someone great)

During my junior year in college, I lived in Glasgow, Scotland studying abroad at the University of Glasgow.  One of the first things I did after settling in to the neighborhood was finding a local music store and buying an acoustic guitar.  One of the easiest ways to find other musicians and make friends is finding a local open mic to play.  I got lucky in this respect as there were many open mic nights at nearby pubs and student unions and some of the pubs hosting them even offered a free pint for musicians who performed.

One of the open mics I played was a pub called Whistler’s Mother (named after the famous painting from James McNeill Whistler).  The host was a guy named Andrew McGregor who ran the open mic with his friend Lindsey.  They played mostly cover songs to start the open mic and created a very friendly and inviting atmosphere.  Andy’s brother Stuart tended bar and was also a talented musician with his own band.  The first night I played open mic at the Whistler’s I had the notion to let my freak flag fly a little and play some weirder, original songs.  I made some sort of impression on Andy (not necessarily a good one) and he approached me afterward and talked about music and recording.  He invited me to his home studio located in his dad’s print shop in a town about an hour away called Largs.

I met him early on a Saturday morning next to the Whistler's Mother.  I had my guitar, a tuner, and a notepad with ideas for a couple of tunes I wanted to record. He picked me up in his small red hatchback and we headed for his little seaside hometown of Largs.

What a nice, interesting fellow musician! Here he was, getting up early on a Saturday morning.  How cool was this situation I stumbled into simply by playing at an open mic?

On the way out of town, Andy turned to me and asked: "Hollis, did you know I'm a viking?"

Panic immediately set in as I thought how dumb it was to get in a car with a Scottish stranger.  "I'm about to be kidnapped, or murdered, or molested, or all three," I thought.

Andy continued: "Largs has a viking museum as it was the last point of entry when the vikings invaded Scotland.  I give tours and bang a battle axe on a shield and scare the wee kids.  My viking name is 'Ragnor'."

I started breathing again taking comfort in the fact that the worst Andy would do to me is attack me with a medieval weapon (which he later confirmed he possessed).

We drove an hour to his home town of Largs along the coast of the island--a beautiful little sea-side Scottish shire with plenty of gambling machines and places to eat fish and chips.  I expected we would record in Andy's garage at his house or maybe set up a few microphones in a living room, which is why I was so confused when we pulled up to what turned out to be a print shop.

Andy’s home studio just happened to be located in his father’s print shop: a larger warehouse with printing technology ranging from large, laser printers to century-old printing machines with moveable type.  The “studio” was located in a closet.  Inside the closet was a large, custom-built computer running some version of Cubase which required a USB dongle to be inserted into the computer while running (remember the days?), a tall chair, a control surface with the model name of “Houston” (perhaps to launch a rocket, Andy frequently joked), a 88-key midi keyboard, and some cables hanging carefully from nails equidistantly plunged into the shelving unit above the keyboard.

It didn’t look like much, but I knew that great recordings had been done with less, so I was happy to throw my songs in Andy’s hands to see what kind of recording we could get.

Watching Andy work was stunning.  He was an incredible piano player, and knew how to coax all sorts of great sounds from his keyboard.  He also worked quickly and efficiently on the Houston.  It was amazing to watch him work.  When we think of recording engineers working in a studio, we get the image a guy passively moving faders up and down and twisting knobs occasionally—not so with Andy. After every track was recorded, Andy's real work began with editing, mixing, and doing the work of a producer to guide the song idea into a recording which would sound even better than what I could have dreamed.  That is one of the real challenges of a producer.  While an artist may come to the table with the component parts and ideas for a song or album, the monumental technical and artistic task largely resides with the person in charge of running the recording session.  Perhaps an artist may come into the studio with an idea of a song he wants to sound like Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” but what part of that hit and his or her song does that likeness intertwine?  Is it the killer, memorable guitar riff?  Is it the vocal sound of 90’s teenage angst?  Is it an ineffable mood aspect of the song that inspires him or her to make that comparison?  Such is the challenge and the heroics of a good, competent recording engineer and producer.  In professional settings these roles are usually separate, but for the more budget projects all these roles are relegated to the songwriter who might be recording the album on his own.

I fought a fight internally for a while for Rescue over whether I should complete each stage of the recording process with a professional: going to a professional studio and having an engineer record and mix the tunes; maybe having a figure in the local music scene with a particular and apparent talent for recording and production produce the record—guide the record into something worthy of attention.  In the end I chose to serve these roles by myself not be because I thought I could do them better but because I wanted the time to learn and do it myself.  While I will certainly be calling on professionals to help me finish the record, part of the “artistry” I hope people get from the album is a DIY aesthetic and a sense of artist growth.

I am better for doing this album and I am better for all the different people I have learned from (ahem…a one Andrew Robert McGregor).  It is special for me to do the recording part of this project by myself, but there is no way I could have done it without the experience of learning from talented professionals.

If you want to record. find someone great in the studio and learn everything you can from them.  What does their workflow look like?  What special techniques do they employ on each track recording?  How thorough are they?  Do they make you do lots of takes until a line is clean and performed well?  What can you steal from them (ideas and techniques--not actual property or equipment).

You can stream Miss the Plane and Quick Relief, the two albums Andy recorded and produced for me on Spotify.

To download and stream DANGER and INVITES click here to shop and throw me some love.  RESCUE is due to be released this spring 2017!