#OR never touched him until season 12. and they are older and secure and they have a home and they’ve been missing each other so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plaidbooks · 4 years ago

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Everyone Deserves Love chapter 1

A/N: It’s finally here! I really wanted to finish this series before I started posting (mostly because I was afraid I wouldn’t finish it). This is my first time writing for an OC, and for SVU! I promise not every chapter will be this long; I was just trying to establish the character.

The first three chapters are prequels. This chapter takes place during season 5.

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Tags: child prostitution mention, sex trafficking mention, minor character death, child death, guns, blood, normal SVU stuff.

Words: 10k+

Devon Motely got out of bed and stretched, yawning loudly. She walked over to her window and threw the curtains open, letting the sun stream in. She glanced at the clock, 7:05am. She shook her head; it was later than she was used to, but not really; time zones still made sleep times awkward. The dawn was just peaking over the city buildings. New York, Devon thought, a thrill running through her. She had just moved across the country from California at her boss’s suggestion, transferring in the same department, but a new place; a welcome change from the monotony that was Devon’s life. It was fine by her; she was kind of done with California: the heat, the drama, the constant worry of her childhood coming back to haunt her. New York was a fresh start, a new adventure. Though, as someone who worked in the FBI, an adventure wasn’t always a good thing. But she wouldn’t think about that, instead focusing on the positives. For example, her best friend and fellow special agent, Emma, was reassigned with her. Plus, her old psychiatrist-turned-friend was reassigned to New York years ago, and she was hoping to catch up with him.

Devon was nearing thirty and had been an FBI agent, working with the Hostage Rescue Team, since she was 18—a whole decade ago! Most of the time, she hardly believed it had been that long. Other times, it felt like it had been so much longer; working HRT meant she had to do and look at things that would make others sick. They made her sick, too, but she could deal with it; she had to, it was her job. Sometimes while working undercover, however, she had moments of weakness, moments when she couldn’t commit to her illicit cover story, and she had to isolate herself to get back in the mindset. Only once did she ever have her cover blown; she grimaced when checking out “product”—little girls—and she couldn’t recover. She lost a couple girls that day, and she learned to always put on the correct face after that, no matter what she said or saw. Devon was damn good at her job, though, and she almost never lost another life since. Almost.

1 year later

Cubicle of Devon Motely

Thursday, October 25th. 12:37am

Devon sighed heavily; she was in the office—a rare occurrence indeed—flipping through pictures and unconsciously clenching her teeth in disgust and anger, slowly giving herself a headache. The Assistant Director, and subsequently her boss, Thomas Jenkins, had personally given her this task. It was a delicate procedure, one that he needed to make sure made it into the right hands. For that, only one name came up, and that was Devon’s. Devon scrolled through the pictures looking, searching for anything that could be useful—a tattoo, a building, a street sign. Anything. Hell, she’d take a moldy food wrapper at this rate; her search has pulled up dead-end after dead-end, and she was getting frustrated. She knew, though, how to relax and refocus her efforts; getting frustrated helped no one, especially not the poor children that were caught in the middle of this chaos. That being said, flipping through hundreds of kiddie porn images wasn’t the way she wanted to spend her day.

About two weeks ago, another field agent had been able to shine some light on a huge human trafficking ring, one that the FBI had been trying to break into for months. Devon hadn’t really been on the case, besides maybe looking through some facts or pictures in her fleeting free time, but she was now called in. Thomas mostly wanted her to stay caught up on the details because he wanted to send Devon in, hence why she was now stuck at her desk in the middle of the night, obsessively looking for some clue as to the location of where the kids may be. The other field agent, the one that first broke into the ring, was shockingly able to take one of the pimps alive, and even more shockingly, they were able to break through the encryption on the bastard’s laptop. All that he really had on there, however, were private messages with anonymous johns and pimps, something that the FBI’s best computer techs were trying to crack the identities of, and then some very, very disturbing pictures and videos.

Devon had mentally prepared herself for a couple hours before going to work on watching the videos; she figured that they were probably the worst things there, so she’d deal with them first. Sadly, she was correct; the things that she saw in those videos—mostly violent kiddie porn—made her skin crawl and still haunted her at night. It had been about a week since Devon started this “project,” and she had either gone to or talked to a psychiatrist almost every day afterwards. The pictures were…better isn’t the correct word, but they were less intense than the videos...for the most part. Devon kept a notepad and pen by her as she flipped through file after file. She came upon a particularly horrible picture and turned her screen off for a moment, feeling nauseous. She stood up quickly and took a couple steps from her desk, rubbing her temples, trying to get the image out of her mind with no luck. She needed a moment to recollect herself before she did something she regretted—going into their secure facility to beat that pimp to a bloody pulp would help no one. Though, it may make her feel better.

She sighed, taking a sip from her long-cold coffee. She picked up her notepad, going over the few—mostly useless, she knew—clues that she could pick up from the files she had already gone through. One kid in a video—a young boy, no older than 10--begged the man to not touch him, calling him by name, Evan. She wrote down the video timestamp; you can see half of Evan’s face for the briefest of moments. That’s been the most helpful thing she had found, though. Everything else she had scribbled down was just a description of the various rooms in the videos and pictures, or one of the children’s names, or the brand of…items used—anything that may be helpful in tracking down where these children could be. There was a grand total of 4 different rooms; she labeled one as “Evan’s room” and had scrawled down a basic description, but no other names of the pedophiles came up.

Tossing the notepad back onto the desk, Devon took a deep breath before sitting back down. She steeled herself, trying to force herself to feel nothing at all. It was good that she still felt repulsed, she told herself. Once she really did feel nothing, then it would be time to quit…and find a better therapist. Barely containing her groan of discomfort, she turned her computer screen back on, and analyzed the grotesque picture that appeared, looking for something, anything, that could help this child and all the others.

It took her two more days, and thousands of images that she’d need the strongest alcohol in existence to erase from her mind, until she found something concrete. There was a picture of the same bed that Devon had seen a hundred times now, the bed that she had labeled under “Evan’s room.” But Devon ignored the…scene that the picture was attempting to focus on. Instead, she focused her attention on what looked like a receipt—one that someone would get after they signed for something, a carbon copy of the signature on the bottom—that was on a clipboard on a dresser on the other side of the bed. It looked like the signature said “Evan Thompson” or “Evan Frampton,” but it was hard to tell. She needed another set of eyes, a fresher set that aren’t bloodshot from looking at a screen for days. She called Jenkins on his direct line and waited for him to come over to her desk to inform him about her discovery, see if he could make it out.

“I was starting to give up on you,” Jenkins joked as he appeared in the office doorway.

Devon gave a tired smile. “Trust me, I’ve been wanting to give up on this since the first image.” Jenkins came up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the image on the screen. Devon had saved him from seeing the whole image, having it punched in on just the receipt. “What does that signature say to you?”

Jenkins leaned over her shoulder, putting his face almost against the screen. “Evan Thompson?”

“That’s what it looks like to me, too. Think the techs can clean it up?”

Jenkins leaned back, nodding. Devon turned to face him, cautiously hopeful. “I think it’s worth a shot. Good work Motely,” he replied, giving her a pat on her shoulder.

Grateful for the praise, and for the possible lead, she copied the file into a message and sent it to the techs. It took them only an hour, in which Jenkins had retreated back to his office and Devon had been engrossed in more pictures, before they sent back the picture, clearer than before. The receipt now clearly read “Evan Thompson.” She could even see a total amount above it now. With how much it came to, she was pretty sure that she knew what he had purchased; more children.

With a name now confirmed, Devon opened the Bureau’s database, typing in Evan’s name. Thousands of matches pinged in seconds. She narrowed the field down; in New York—the apprehended pimp accidently mentioned that detail--still alive, not incarcerated. Down to a couple hundred. She then pulled up the half-of-a-face picture she had saved and added in a couple things in her search; white, aged 35-50, 160-190lbs. Only a handful of addresses this time. She wrote down all of them, then got up to go to Jenkins’ office, give him the good news. She needed a team of—she looked down at the number of addresses—at least 16 people, if they were to go at all of these Evans at once and in pairs, as per protocol. They were all over the state, but in clusters. The furthest an Evan was from another was 5 miles. Perfect.

The FBI had been desperate to catch this trafficking ring; they had people at their disposal. Getting the field agents to interview the suspects would be the easy part; the hard part was assembling teams to go back them up. Devon wanted to be coordinated in this takedown. If the real perp was to catch wind of the FBI coming down on Evan Thompsons, then he’d be in the wind instantly. They had to be ready to take all eight down at the same time, just in case. They couldn’t let this guy get away. Because of their close proximity, they were also able to place teams in between the suspect’s locations, saving them some manpower. Devon conveyed as much to Jenkins, who agreed; now they just had to pull every agent they could back to base, go through the briefing and saving those children.

FBI Headquarters

Monday, October 28th. 8:05am

Everyone crowded in the briefing room, standing with their partners or teams, watching Jenkins intently. Jenkins went through the whole operation with everyone, 80 agents in all—16 field agents and 64 SWAT members. Every single person wanted these kids in safe hands; they all wanted to take these bastards down, and they hung on every word Jenkins said. Assignments given, the agents started to prepare. Devon vaguely noticed the field agents that were assigned to interview the suspects pair off and get their equipment.

“We better get this guy,” she heard one agent mumble to another. Devon pulled on her bulletproof vest, strapping it tight. She strapped on her glock and put her badge on over her head—she had it on a chain necklace for this. Then she grabbed the rifle issued to every SWAT member. She wasn’t normally SWAT, and the metal weapon felt heavy and unfamiliar in her hands. True, she had learned to use it in training, but it was rare that she used it at all. She couldn’t wait for this mission to be over, to be back in the field, alone, with no liabilities. It was easier that way.

“Hey Dev, don’t sweat. We’ll get those kids out safely,” a familiar voice said. She turned to see Emma next to her, red hair pulled back into a low ponytail, helmet already secured on her head. Devon didn’t have many friends, inside or outside of the FBI, but Emma had always been nice to her, always had her back when Devon had to play nice with others instead of going undercover by herself. While Devon counted Emma as her best friend, they didn’t see much of each other outside of work, only a stray text here or there.

“God, I hope so,” Devon replied. She didn’t want to imagine the scene that may be awaiting them. She had done this hundreds of times, but it never got any easier; her brain liked to imagine the worst possible scenario. It didn’t help that she had seen that scene in person. Every time she geared up for a siege like this, the dead bodies flashed in her mind. She shuttered.

“We will. I know we will,” Emma said with such conviction, how could it end any differently? Devon simply nodded back, putting on her helmet. Once fully geared up, Devon, Emma, and the rest of their team—6 other men--made their way to their SWAT van. Devon felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach on the drive to their outpost spot. She tried to calm her nerves; there was only a 1 in 8 chance that she would even see any action today. But she knew her luck. And she knew how much Fate liked to fuck with her. So, she counted the minutes ticking by while her team idly chatted about nothing; getting drinks later, the Knicks game the previous night, the wife and kids wanting to go on vacation with their father for once. Devon had nothing to contribute—she hardly did anything outside of work—so she just listened, replying only when prompted.

Devon’s phone rang, causing her to jump and the others in the van to go silent, looking towards her. Devon quickly silenced it, looking at the caller ID. She never got phone calls outside of spam or telemarketers; she had completely forgotten to turn it off before this. She was shocked when she saw a name appear; Dr. Huang. Fighting the urge to answer it, Devon let it go to voicemail. Dr. Huang only ever called in case of emergencies, opting to communicate through text. But there was no time to answer as the van’s engine sprang to life, Jenkins informing them through their earpieces that the Evan they were sitting on was their guy. Devon shot a quick text to the psychiatrist—emergency, call you later—before putting her phone away. She fought down the thoughts that had sprung up, wondering why the doctor had called her; she had more important things to worry about. The knot in her stomach had returned and every bump in the road made it feel like she was going to be sick. The van drove for a couple more minutes before cutting the engine. Everyone in the back of the van readied themselves. They laid out a basic plan on the short drive over—Jenkins had told them it was a warehouse. A team of four people were going through the front and the other 4 were going through the back. Devon and Emma would be in the latter group. They had done this a handful of times before; all the team knew each other, trusted each other. Devon gripped her rifle, stifling any lingering nerves. She switched her thoughts off, ready to rely on instinct and training. The van doors were thrown open, and Devon and her team charged out and into the beyond.

Warehouse of Evan Thompson

Monday, October 28th. 12:47pm

Devon and her team stormed the place as quickly and quietly as possible. They found the backdoors quickly, unguarded. One of the men pulled out a crowbar, shoved it into the crease between the doors, and ripped it open. It was loud, and they moved in slowly, listening for any sign of life. Hearing nothing, they started clearing little office rooms before they made it to the big, empty space. Well, empty besides a couple of abandoned cement guardrails, like something that littered parking lots, and a huge chain-link cage. Devon had taken the lead, had been the first to peer around into the expansive place. The cage had caught her attention immediately, not because of its size, but because of its contents. What seemed like at least 30 children, all between what looked like 8- and 12-years-old. Devon felt the nausea come back but shoved it down. She could feel sick later. She motioned for the team to follow her as she led them slowly towards the cage, keeping an eye out for danger.

“What the fuck?” a male’s voice called out from across the warehouse. Devon whipped around to the source of the sound, seeing 4 heavily armed men coming out of a small room. Then, pandemonium. The traffickers open fired, forcing them to take cover behind the cement guardrails, firing back. Devon looked over to the cage; it was far enough out of the line of fire that none of them were injured, though the children were all on the ground now, hands covering their heads and ears. But how long would it take until the traffickers decided to cut their losses?

“Cover me,” Devon said, mentally preparing herself for the short run to the cage—it was at least 10 yards. She felt the familiar churning in her stomach when having to make this tough decision; she knew it was highly unlikely that all the children would survive, but it was better than leaving them stuck like fish in a barrel. Wasn’t it?

Emma saw what she was planning and shook her head. “You’ll be killed before you make it halfway.” A bullet pinged off the cement by their heads, as if to emphasize this point.

“That’s why I said cover me.” Without waiting for a response, she poked her gun out from behind the low wall she was crouched behind, rapid firing in the direction of the traffickers. Their gunfire quieted as they took cover from the barrage, allowing the FBI agents to peek their heads out, taking better aim and giving her the cover she had requested. Devon took her chance and sprinted to the cage, firing at the traffickers as she went. A couple of stray bullets got close to her, but none hit their target. The kids noticed the agent running towards them and scrambled to their feet. They came rushing to the door, reaching for Devon through the chain link wall, voices overlapping, panicking as they begged, pleaded for help.

“Stand back!” she yelled over the ruckus. It wasn’t until she took aim at the lock that the kids backed up. She pulled the trigger, bullet destroying the padlock. Devon turned her back on the cage, firing wildly at the traffickers while the children ripped the door open.

“Run, run! Go go go!” she ordered, raising her voice over the gunfire. She could barely hear the children fleeing across the warehouse towards the waiting agents. Devon chanced a glance to the side, trying to make sure they were making it. She felt a pang in her heart when she saw Emma positioned halfway between the cage and the other agents. It was in that moment, that split-second glance, that Devon realized that she loved Emma.

The traffickers renewed their efforts, obviously pissed that their product was escaping. Bullets flew, but Devon held her ground until the last kid left the cage. Once the cage was empty, Devon started to retreat back to her previous cover. It was a perilous journey; there were a few bodies in the path—Devon glanced to find her footing, but otherwise tried to ignore the small, unmoving corpses and the sudden sadness and anger that they conjured. After what felt like hours, Devon made it back behind the low wall. As she was moving to crouch behind it, however, she was hit in the chest. It hit her vest, but that didn’t stop it from knocking the wind out of her, causing her to fall onto her back. It hurt like hell, and she knew she would have a wicked bruise, and hopefully that was it. She scrambled back to her knees, trying to get a baring on her surroundings again. One of her teammates was covering the escape route from their cover to the hallway leading to the exit; a much closer trek than the cage was. The other agent that stayed behind was giving them cover fire from the hallway. Devon joined in; having no more distractions besides the pain in her chest, she was able to take precise aim, shooting two of the traffickers, their bodies falling like a sack of bricks. The firefight seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the warehouse fell silent. Keeping their guns at the ready, the agents came out from behind the wall, making their way towards where the traffickers had been in cover. Six dead bodies; two more must have joined the original four. Right at that moment, the other half of the team came in from the front, calling out the all clear. Devon let out a heavy sigh, lowering her weapon.

“Thanks for the cover, Emma,” she said, turning to find the spunky redhead. But she wasn’t with Devon’s team. She unstrapped her vest, checking the area that she was shot. It hurt and was already bruised, a bump forming, but no broken skin, and from the feeling, no broken bones. “Emma?” she called out after a couple moments of silence.

“You didn’t see?” one of her teammates asked. Devon felt a stone drop into the pit in her stomach. She shook her head and the man raised his hand slowly, pointing. Devon hesitantly followed his finger and felt the ground drop out from under her. The children who were hit were laid out in almost a line from cage to cover, an indicator of their flight. And among them was a redhead, complete with SWAT vest.

No, Devon thought. A pain completely unrelated to her injury punched her in the heart. She hurried over, knelt down, and turned her friend over, hoping against hope that she was just grazed, that she was still alive. Emma’s eyes were flat, grey, staring at nothing. A bullet hole was almost perfectly in the middle of her forehead, blood already drying. Devon dropped her as if burned, falling backwards onto her ass. She started hyperventilating, bile rising in her throat. She had to get out of the warehouse, get some fresh air. There was a roaring in her ears, her heart beating frantically. Out of nowhere, a faint whimpering broke through the blood rushing in her head. Devon whipped her head in the direction of the sound. There—a small form was crying, breathing hard. Devon scrambled over to the child, anything to get away from her dead friend, and found a little girl. She was clutching her stomach, blood seeping through her grasp.

“I need medical attention!” Devon yelled, ripping the shirt off a not-so-fortunate body, and using the fabric to try and staunch the bleeding. She held the shirt firmly, but not too hard; pushing too hard on a stomach wound could damage the internal organs. Devon stayed like that with the poor girl until paramedics came. A different set of medics checked Devon’s injury. They tried to convince her to go to the hospital, to make sure nothing was damaged internally, but Devon declined. She was quiet the whole trip back to the FBI HQ, mind completely blank.

FBI Headquarters

Monday, October 28th. 2:26pm

Devon moved on autopilot, making her way to her locker, ignoring the congratulations or condolences sent her way. She opened the locker and started taking off her gear, her hands like machines. She unstrapped the helmet from under her chin, lifting the piece of equipment and placing it on an empty shelf. She then gently took off her vest, wincing in pain, the events from the past hour still fresh in her mind, flashing before her eyes, as if she were still in that warehouse. Devon closed her locker door forcefully, hands still feeling sticky from all the blood, even though she had scrubbed them clean. In all, 7 children laid dead in the warehouse. The little girl, Patsy, was the only one who was found to still be alive in the pile. She was still in surgery, and Devon had asked for updates; she needed one win to come out of all this. The other 25 children survived, and the FBI were now attempting to track down their family members, if they had any. Now out of her SWAT gear, Devon made her way to Jenkins’ office. She was running on autopilot, Emma’s dead stare branded in her mind’s eye. She really rather just go home, drink until she couldn’t see straight. But she had to be debriefed, and she knew Jenkins would force her in to see the Bureau’s shrink before she was allowed to leave—if she didn’t tell Jenkins that she was shot, then he wouldn’t force her to the hospital.

The debriefing took upwards of an hour, and Jenkins gave her a shot of strong scotch—not Devon’s drink of choice, but she was used to it from past hard cases and highly grateful for the burning liquid, warming her cold, empty shell of a body. As she had predicted, Jenkins all but ordered her to go to the shrink before she left for the day. And to take some time off—she had enough vacation days saved up—and to continue seeing a shrink at least once a week. Devon hid her pain as best she could, but she knew Jenkins saw her little winces. Jenkins, to his credit, ignored it; he knew that she’d make sure she was alright, but he also knew that she needed some time. It wasn’t until Devon was sitting in the waiting room of the company shrink that she remembered that she had a call from a different FBI psychiatrist earlier, before everything went to shit. She pulled out her phone and redialed Dr. Huang’s number.

“Hey George. What’s happened?” she asked when he answered.

“I need a favor, and it’s very time sensitive.”

SVU Department

Monday, October 28th. 4:30pm

Devon stepped through the doors of NYPD’s 16th precinct after blowing off her appointment with the shrink, claiming she was meeting up with Dr. Huang. The psychiatrist had giving her a hard look, but agree that Huang could counsel her, too. Devon looked around curiously; she had never been in this particular precinct before and had to ask for directions from the deskman, who directed her to the elevator. The elevator dinged and the doors opened to the Special Victims Unit. Officers and detectives were wandering about, doing paperwork, or otherwise working. Devon felt eyes trailing behind her as she made her way through the precinct. She tried to shove that down, along with all her other emotions; there was a time and place for that eventual breakdown, and this wasn’t it. Work was work, and this seemed important as well as stressful, as her work normally was. NYPD already felt like walking on enemy ground, no matter how much people wanted to claim about them being “brothers in arms.”

“May I help you?” a woman asked, breaking through Devon’s thoughts. She was in street clothes—a detective, then—with short cropped hair. She had bags under her eyes, slumped shoulders; she was obviously running on overtime, probably hasn’t slept in a day or two.

“I’m looking for Dr. Huang,” Devon replied. She felt a fresh wave of pain as she subconsciously puffed out her chest. She didn’t try to engage in posturing, but this woman already was giving her a hard glare.

The woman nodded. “Ah, you must be his FBI friend—” Devon didn’t miss the…resentment? Venom? in her voice—“he’s in the Captain’s office.”

“Thanks,” Devon said, pushing past the detective. She was used to NYPD disliking her; the Bureau had no friends. But she rarely had someone using that kind of tone so boldly to her face; it was usually coy smiles, sugar-coated threats, and other politics designed to make them seem like friends to the untrained ear. She may not like the detective, but she respected her bluntness. Devon ignored all the other eyes that she could feel on her as she made her way to the only office in the place. She knocked on the open door, sticking her head in. Before she could say anything, Dr. Huang stood up from his seat, gesturing her in.

“Devon, it’s nice to see you again,” he said, giving her a hug. He released her quickly, giving her a concerned look when he felt Devon tense up, hissing in pain. She subtlety shook her head, promising to explain later.

“Same to you, George.” Devon had met the doctor years ago in California as a patient; they’ve been good friends ever since, even after Huang was reassigned to New York. As much as Devon liked him, though, she had a hard time reading him; it made her slightly uneasy, but not enough to stop being friends with him. They’ve worked on cases together in the past. Huang was a profiler as well as a psychiatrist; he made most of Devon’s aliases when she went undercover in her early years, would spend hours working with her until she became that person.

Dr. Huang gestured to the man, presumably the Captain, sitting behind the desk. “This is Captain Cragen,” he introduced. “Cragen, this is Special Agent Devon Motely.” They shook hands.

“I assume Huang told you why you’re here?” Cragen asked by way of meeting.

Devon let out a breath. “No, actually. Only that it was an emergency.”

Dr. Huang gave her a weird look but said nothing. Devon knew the look, though; she had said something wrong, something weird. She knew he’d ask about it later, when they had more privacy. She wasn’t looking forward to that talk.

Cragen looked between the two before answering, “well, we have a missing kid. Kidnapped 16 hours ago. Believed to be taken by a gang member in retaliation. It’s a…delicate situation, one that I felt the need to call Huang in on. Though, he has convinced me that you specialize in this kind of work, that you could get this kid out with no casualties.”

The familiar knot formed in Devon’s stomach; the dead children from earlier, Emma’s dead face flashed in her mind. She took a sharp breath, trying to ground herself in now. She needed to focus; there was another child in danger, another child that needed her help.

“Do you know where the perp is, where he took the kid?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, professional.

“No, but I have every available officer on it; we’re closing in on them.”

Devon nodded. “Tell me about the perp.” All business, nothing else. Emotions didn’t belong here.

Cragen led the two FBI agents to where they had a screen and whiteboard, all filled with information on this case. The woman detective from earlier was there, as well as two others; one was a tall white man with glasses and grey hair, the other was a black man, slightly taller than Devon. Another detective was at his desk, on the phone and typing on his computer. Cragen introduced the man as Elliot Stabler, the woman as Olivia Benson, the tall man as John Munch, and the black man as Fin. Devon nodded to them each in turn, but got mostly the cold shoulder or a hard stare in return. As Cragen filled her in, she tried to memorize every detail she could, no matter how small. The perp’s name was Jose Gonzalez, the kid was Eddy Suarez. Eddy’s father was in the same gang as Jose; from what SVU understood, the father had slighted Jose in some way, so Jose took his kid as payback. He was considered armed and dangerous.

“Captain, I may have something,” Stabler called out, slamming his phone on its receiver. His desk was against Benson’s desk—partners, then. The group hurried over to look at his screen. “Got the car and license plate crossing the bridge into Staten Island.”

“Let’s move,” Cragen said, spurring the detectives into action. Devon followed; Huang would stay behind, waiting for the interrogation, to where his skills would be needed.

“We need to talk,” he murmured to Devon as she hurried by him. She simply nodded, then followed the Captain out of the precinct.

540 East Marigold Lane

Monday, October 28th. 5:28pm

They pulled up a couple houses down from where Jose had barricaded himself with the child. ESU was still arriving, scrambling to get into place. It was a normal, suburban house, one story, complete with white picket fence; ESU didn’t need long to surround the place, evacuating the houses nearby. Devon wanted to get in there before they were ready; the most important part was getting the 7-year-old Eddy out, alive and unharmed, not something ESU was trained for. She got out of the car, bulletproof vest on and ready, trying to ignore the pain in her chest and her heart, but failing miserably. The nerves that she normally got in these situations were absent; she was still reeling from the warehouse earlier. She kept glancing around, trying to find Emma, then remembering and grimacing. It was like she couldn’t control her emotions, her mind. Devon was afraid that she’d feel this anytime she put the vest on again.

“You alright there, Agent?” Stabler asked, coming to stand next to her. She nodded absently, not really pay attention to the man. Devon’s mind was far away, her nerves fried. She felt like she was about to scream, cry, explode, all of the above. She shook herself, shoved all of her thoughts and feelings down; all that mattered now was that little boy being held hostage. She conjured up the picture she saw in the precinct; a little boy, laughing, being held by his dad who was also laughing. She focused on that boy, focused on the fact that he was in the house in front of her, scared to death. She took a deep breath, then made her way around the house, away from the NYPD officers. She vaguely heard someone call out to her, asking where she was going, but she ignored them. There was a backdoor in the backyard that had a huge window next to it, blinds open, giving her a clear look inside.

She could see a large living room with couches and a TV mounted on the wall. There was a coffee table and a couple of bookshelves full of a variety of books. Otherwise, the room seemed empty. Looking through it, Devon could see an empty kitchen and a hallway. No sign of the man or child. She tried the doorknob and was stunned that it was unlocked. Why had no one else come back here? she thought. Fearing it was a trap, she unholstered her gun, the familiar steel in her hand. She twisted the knob, opened the door slowly. She stepped back, aiming her glock for anyone who may jump out at her. Nothing. Confused, she slowly went through the open door, checking both ways as if someone could be hiding there against the wall, waiting to kill her. Empty. The house itself seemed empty, but then why was ESU and the NYPD stationed outside? Might as well clear the building, make sure that they were just overreacting rather than blaming them right away for botching the location.

Devon crept through the rooms, listening for any sound, but hearing nothing. She then made her way to the hallway; there were only two doors lining the walls, with a master bedroom at the end. She took one step into the hallway, and her mind flashed. She blinked, and she was back in the warehouse, hard concrete under her boots, Emma’s breath loud in her ears. Devon’s breath caught in her throat as she whipped around. But no one was there; it was an empty living room in a quaint house in a suburb. Trying to calm her racing heart, Devon turned back to the hallway; all the doors were open, almost confirming that there was no one here with her. The first room was an empty child’s bedroom, nothing in it disturbed. The second room was a small bathroom, also empty of human presence.

“Get out of here,” a man’s voice called from the master bedroom, making Devon jump, heart racing painfully against her chest. She heard a soft, metallic sound and looked down, trying to find the source. She was surprised to find that it was coming from her; the hand holding her glock was shaking, hard enough for it to be making noise. Calm down, she told herself. She glared at her own hand until the shaking stopped. Devon took a deep breath, then made it to the doorframe, pressed up against it. She tried to peek in, to see the situation she was about to be in.

“Let the boy go. We can talk about this,” Devon replied, gripping her gun tighter if only to keep in control. She could just barely see the man holding the child, gun to the latter’s head. Eddy let out a choked sob. Another flash in Devon’s mind and she saw Patsy lying in a pool of her own blood. She pulled back, breathing hard. Quit it! she yelled at herself, her own mind.

Jose’s voice wavered slightly as he said, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

It took a moment for Jose’s words to make their way into Devon’s mind. “Then stop it from continuing. All you need to do is let the kid go, and we can all walk out of here unharmed.”

She could almost hear him shaking his head. “Naw, that’s not gonna happen. If I let this kid go, you’ll just shoot me. I don’t wanna die, man.”

Emma’s face flashed across her mind. She didn’t want to die, either, Devon almost spat out, but she held her tongue. What was happening to her? It had been a long day, and she needed to get out of there. “I’m going to put my gun down, okay? I’ll be unarmed, and I’m coming into the room.” True to her word, she put the safety on her gun, then gave it a little toss into the room, not close enough for Jose to reach it, but definitely out of Devon’s reach. A little show of trust, so that hopefully he will trust her, even a little bit. She then put her hands up, reaching them around the doorframe before coming in herself. “I don’t want anyone here to get hurt, Jose, I promise. Why don’t you tell me how this happened?” Keep him talking, help him see that there was no winning here, that he’d have to do as she asked.

Jose used the hand holding the gun to rub his shaved head. He was panicking, but Devon was hoping to calm him down, even if she couldn’t keep her own mind calm. “Alonso fucked up for the last time”—Devon recognized the child’s father’s name— “and the boss wanted to make him pay, ya know? So, he had me pick up his kid, but then he wanted me to kill him and I just, I can’t kill a kid, man. But if I don’t, boss will kill me.”

Devon felt a pang of pity for the man; he was in a lose-lose situation. But her fraying nerves and overall exhaustion was making it hard to think straight, making it hard to play the nice cop. “Jose, you’re not leaving this house alive unless you surrender yourself. But, no listen to me, if you give yourself up, you’re only going to jail. You hurt that kid, though? You’re done, you’re in the ground, I guarantee it.” She spat out the last part, a little more violently than she meant to. Normally, she’d use a threat like that just to get a suspect to comply. But right now, she was afraid…afraid that she wasn’t using an empty threat. Afraid that she may actually kill this man if she didn’t end this soon. She had never felt like this before.

Jose let out a pained whine. “I don’t wanna die,” he mumbled. He tightened his grip on Eddy, who was starting to cry louder, as if he understood that the more distressed Jose became, the least likely he was to survive.

Devon took another deep breath, trying to shove all of her personal feelings down, trying to bring that professional side back out. The field agent that she always was. “I won’t let you die, Jose. Trust me, I can get you out of here, but you have to put the gun down. You said it yourself, you don’t want to kill this child. What would that even accomplish? Eddy has done nothing wrong. Think about how terrified he must be, how cruel it would be to end his life before he got to do anything that he’s dreamed of.” Devon glanced at the cross Jose was wearing around his neck. “Do you really believe that God would forgive you for ending this child’s chance at life?” If personalizing Eddy didn’t get through to him, religion probably would.

Jose sniffled, the hand holding the gun starting to shake. “You—you can get me out of here? Alive?”

Devon nodded. “Of course, but you have to put the gun down, let Eddy go. I give you my word.” During this whole exchange, Devon had been making her way slowly through the room, around the bed towards Jose. Jose looked like he was thinking through all of his options, breathing harder and harder. After what felt like forever, he released Eddy, who ran to Devon, wrapping his arms around her legs. She jumped as if shocked by the touch, but played it off, trying not to scare the child. Jose then slowly handed his gun to Devon. She put it in the waistband of her pants at the small of her back.

“I’m so sorry,” Jose said through tears. He turned around, head down, defeated. He put his hands on the back of his head and waited. Devon took her handcuffs out of her back pocket and awkwardly made her way to Jose, Eddy hanging off of her.

“Don’t let me die,” Jose whispered, more to himself than to Devon. Once he was secured, Devon let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. All of her nerves were on fire, as if the slightest touch would set her off. It was taking everything in her to not react to Eddy hanging off of her. As she led the two out of the room, she swooped down to grab her gun, replacing it in her holster. Eddy stayed by her side, never releasing her leg. She was glad he was safe, that she could provide some safety to him, but it was starting to annoy her more and more. He’s a scared child. You just saved his life. Suck it up, she thought to herself. She thought back to Patsy, still in surgery. If Devon had patience for her, she’d have patience for Eddy, too.

“Let me go first,” Devon said, stopping them when they had reached the front door. She pushed Jose gently against the wall by the doorframe, so that none of the awaiting officers could get a clear shot on him. She moved the child behind her legs, effectively becoming a human shield. It’s not that she really distrusted ESU or the NYPD as a whole, but all it took was one overzealous cop to have a twitchy finger, to let this all go to hell.

“Coming out! Suspect is unarmed and apprehended! Don’t shoot!” she yelled out the closed door. Slowly, she unlocked the door, then turned the knob, inching the door open. From the outside, she knew that ESU would only see her standing there, a child behind her. From her point of view, Devon saw guns from every direction aiming at them.

She put her free hand up in surrender, the other hand holding Jose by the cuffs. “Hold your fire!” she called out. She waited until she heard whoever was in charge repeat her order before she moved Jose through the doorframe and out into the open. Eddy took Devon’s free hand when she had lowered it, gripping her tightly. She couldn’t even imagine how terrified this kid must be having this many guns pointed in his direction. She led them out slowly, struggling not to flinch as officers came hurrying up. They all but ripped Jose out from her grip, reading him his rights, and throwing him in the back of a squad car. Devon gave him a sympathetic look as the car pulled away. At least he didn’t die, she thought. More officers came up to take the boy, but Devon refused to release him as Eddy gripped her hand tighter, turning to hide his face against her legs. All of the anger and frustration that had been welling up inside of her finally had a target.

“Back the fuck off,” she said, venom dripping from her voice. The officers scrambled to get out of her way as she led him over to the awaiting paramedics in the ambulance. She waited by his side as he was checked out for injuries. She looked over and saw the SVU detectives, Cragen in their center, looking over to her, something like respect and astonishment in their eyes. She knew Cragen would want to debrief her, but at this point, she was emotionally exhausted—she had spent all day in this damned vest. So, she stayed with Eddy, giving him silent support while he was poked and prodded, asked questions. It eventually came up that they wanted to take him to the hospital, run more tests to make sure he was physically okay.

“Don’t let them take me,” Eddy cried, grabbing Devon’s hand like a lifeline.

“It’s okay, Eddy. I’ll ride with you,” she replied softly. She climbed into the ambulance before the medics could say anything. If they didn’t want her there, they made no mention of it as they loaded up. The whole way to the hospital, Devon whispered encouragement to Eddy—“everything’s fine, you’re safe, you did so good back there”—until he calmed down. Devon stayed with him until the nurses kicked her out, much to his dismay.

“I’ll be right outside. I promise, I won’t leave you until your parents get here,” Devon said as she was shooed out. She went to the waiting room and was shocked to see two detectives—Stabler and Benson—already there.

“That was good work today,” Stabler commented quietly. Benson nodded in acknowledgement. “Even if you did go a little rogue going in the house.” Benson rolled her eyes at that.

“I’m just glad there were no casualties,” Devon replied before slumping into a chair. She felt so drained, so tired. And yet, today wasn’t quite over; she wanted to be there for the interrogation, to let them know about Jose’s impossible situation. To maybe give him some sort of mercy, and maybe some protection from his boss. This day just got longer and longer. Plus, she should probably get her injury checked, too. She rubbed at it absentmindedly, trying to relieve some of the pain.

Benson sat down next to her. “How’s Eddy?”

“He’s fine…relatively. He’s going to need some counseling. But physically, I think he’s unharmed.”

Benson nodded. “Detective Olivia Benson, by the way. Detective Elliot Stabler,” she said, gesturing to the man. Devon was glad that the animosity from earlier seemed to have disappeared. Rescuing a child had that effect on people.

“Special Agent Devon Motely,” she replied, giving them both a small smile. “Any word on Eddy’s parents?”

“They’re divorced; mother is going for full custody, and after today, I’m sure she’ll get it,” Stabler explained. “She’s on her way now.”

Devon nodded, but was too tired to answer. Hopefully, the mother can better protect her son from her ex’s illicit life. She’d make sure she gave them her business card, let them call her if they were ever in trouble again. Even if Devon was busy, she had connections all over the city.

It took about 20 minutes of the three officers sitting in silence—the detectives seemed to know how tired Devon must be, mumbling to themselves every no and again--before the mom showed up. Devon and the detectives had been barred from seeing Eddy until a parent or guardian gave the okay, but they were informed that the child was indeed unharmed, just shaken up by the ordeal. The mother was shown to his room, and the nurse asked for Devon to follow her about 5 minutes later.

“Not you two,” the nurse said to Benson and Stabler. Stabler looked like he was going to start a fight, but Benson waved him down. Devon followed the nurse to Eddy’s room, his mom standing next to him, grasping his hand in both of hers.

“You’re the one who saved my boy?” the woman asked. Devon nodded and the mother came over, flinging her arms around Devon’s neck and pulling her into a tight hug. Devon grimaced as fresh pain coursed through her, but she did her best to stay quiet, keep her pain undetected by the civilians. She awkwardly patted the woman’s back as she cried, thanking the agent over and over again.

“I’m glad he’s alright. You got to watch him, though. Make sure he doesn’t get wrapped up in this again,” Devon replied after she extracted herself from the mother’s grip. She handed her card to the woman. “You call me, though, if anything does happen, okay?”

“Yes, yes of course,” the woman nodded fervently, taking the card from Devon. “We’re moving out of the city, though. Moving closer to my family in Connecticut.”

Devon felt a weight lift off her; getting Eddy out of New York was probably for the best. “Good, that’s good.”

Feeling like they needed time alone, Devon said her goodbyes to both Eddy and her mom—who never stopped thanking her—and backed out of the room. Both detectives were still in the waiting room, and Devon relayed the information to both of them.

“As long as she brings him back to testify, then it’s fine,” Stabler huffed.

“Do you really need a 7-year-old to testify?” Devon asked, incredulous. Devon hated the courts; such bad memories from her past there, plus the unneeded drama and politics that came with it. Besides, hadn’t Eddy suffered enough?

Stabler gave her a hard look. “If we want to get him on kidnapping, then we need the actual kid that was napped,” he explained in a slow tone, as if Devon was an idiot. This was why she liked her job. She only needed to catch the bastards; she didn’t have to go through the whole façade of lawyers, courts, and the politics involved.

“That’s your problem,” she shot back. She really wanted to just go home, have a nice, relaxing bath, and listen to some orchestra music. But she needed to go back to the precinct, listen in on interrogation. Like hell she’d ride with this asshole, though. She said nothing as she left the hospital, hailing a cab. She was sure that the detectives were staying behind to interview Eddy, anyways.

SVU Department

Monday, October 28th. 8:36pm

She made it back to the precinct quickly. Her mind had wandered on the drive over, and she was having trouble focusing. She vaguely realized she didn’t see a doctor about her gunshot wound while she was at the hospital, but she couldn’t force herself to care. She felt like she was floating through the precinct, weaving around the officers as she made her way to SVU’s floor. Her emotions were so frayed, she didn’t think she’d ever feel anything ever again. One of the officers pointed her towards an observation room, where she found Captain Cragen and Dr. Huang watching Fin and Munch grill Jose.

“Fin and Munch have been able to get the whole story out of Mr. Gonzalez, here. Not that it took much prompting,” Cragen said by way of greeting.

“From what he told me in that house, he was in an unwinnable situation. I do hope that you and your DA will take that into consideration when indicting him,” Devon replied flatly. She didn’t have the strength to put up a polite exterior anymore.

Cragen gave her a wondering look; he didn’t seem mad about her tone, just curious about her, about why an FBI agent, especially someone who works in HRT, would be on the perp’s side. “He kidnapped a 7-year-old and held him hostage at gunpoint. Do you really think we should go easy on him?” It didn’t seem like he was trying to defend this point, simply wondering how Devon would answer. As if he were in charge of the debate team in high school, seeing if she could defend her point.

“He was just following his boss’s orders, the promise of death if he failed. And even then, he didn’t kill Eddy. He made it clear how much he didn’t want to,” Devon explained.

“And what would have happened to Eddy if we didn’t find them? If you never talked to Jose?”

Devon didn’t have an answer for that. She’d like to think that he wouldn’t have shot a child, that he may have even killed himself instead. But she could also see the possibility of Jose doing it, because he could make sure Eddy didn’t suffer in death. It all came down to Jose’s fear of death versus his fear of God’s wrath. She resigned to watch in silence as Jose continued to tell the detectives—Fin and Munch—about the hierarchy of the gang, about his boss, about anything they asked about. She could feel Huang’s gaze on her, but she ignored him, trying to focus on Jose’s words.

All three looked to the door when a redheaded woman walked in. Devon felt a punch to the gut as she recalled Emma’s face for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. No matter how many times her empty eyes flashed across Devon’s mind, the nausea and emptiness hit her hard.

“This is ADA Casey Novak,” Cragen announced. “Novak, this is Special Agent Devon Motely.”

“I didn’t know this was a Federal case,” Casey said, giving Devon the familiar I-don’t-trust-the-FBI look.

“Off the clock,” Devon replied, giving her a small, exhausted smile. Maybe she could still have some pleasantries. Casey gave her another look, this time of disbelief—who the hell wanted to do this kind of work off the clock?--before focusing in on the interrogation. Cragen filled her in on the details, including the fact that Devon was the one who collared him, before Devon interjected.

“I’d like to request that you go a little easy on the man,” she said.

Casey gave her an appraising look. “He kidnapped a child, with a gun.” It was the same conversation over and over again. Devon was getting sick of it.

“Yes, but Jose had a gun to his own head. He was acting under duress. Plus, he’s giving you guys all the information on his boss that you need,” Devon reasoned.

Surprisingly, Casey agreed. “I’ll plead him out, then. Kidnapping is 5 to 25 years; I’ll recommend 7.”

“Thank you,” Devon said before excusing herself from the room. With her work effectively done, Devon just wanted to go lay down somewhere for a couple hours…or days. She heard someone follow her out of the observation room and sensed Dr. Huang’s presence.

“We do still need to talk, Devon,” he commented. Devon’s shoulders slumped and she hung her head in defeat as she followed him to an unoccupied room, full of standard-issued beds. Must be where officers could sleep when they couldn’t make it home. It seemed like a cruel joke to bring her here, with how tired she was, but at least it was private. Devon resisted the urge to sit on any of the mattresses; she was afraid she wouldn’t get back up again.

“What’s going on, Dev? Are you okay?” Huang asked once he shut the door.

“Don’t treat me like a patient, George. I know you know me better than that.”

Huang nodded, dropping the professional tone, and adopting something more personable. Yet still that overall calm that he exuded was present. “You’re right. Something did happen to you today, though. Do you want to talk about it?”

Devon huffed out an unamused laugh. “Not really, no. I would rather just down a bottle of whiskey and sleep for three days uninterrupted.” She knew by admitting that, Huang would just dig in further, at least until she got everything off her chest. But she was too exhausted to come up with some elaborate lie about how she was feeling, too exhausted to really care what anyone thought of her right now. She felt nothing, only the dull ache in her chest that pulsed in pain in time with her heart.

Huang looked concerned but hid it well. It only showed in his eyes. “You need to talk it out,” he said. When Devon didn’t reply, he continued, “first, you missed my call, texting me that you were in an emergency. And second, you told Cragen that I gave you no details. I told you the whole case over the phone.”

That stunned Devon; she thought back to the phone call that felt like days ago—how was it only earlier today?—tried to remember what was said. She didn’t remember a single word, though he must have at least old her to come to the 16th precinct, since she showed up here.

Sighing, Devon recounted the Thompson ring takedown. She was a little shocked that Huang didn’t get the notification—“I’m not a field agent, and I was already assigned here,” he explained. Devon got a little choked up when recounting the 7 dead children, and the 1 dead FBI agent, shocked that she even had emotions left.

“I don’t have many friends—you know that. So, losing Emma hurt more than I thought it would,” Devon finished. She refused to acknowledge the feelings that became apparent shortly before the agent’s death—that would be something to unpack later.

Huang had listened intently to her plight. He gave her a look of sadness as she recounted the dead; no matter how many times someone saw another person killed, it never got easier. “You saved 25 children from hell, though.”

“And lost 8 people in the process.”

Huang weighed his words, then responded, “but don’t the lives saved outweigh those lost?”

Devon’s phone went off right then. She recognized the hospital’s number and answered. She felt the dread build in her core, tears finally springing to her eyes as the final nail of the day was hammered into her. “Correction, 9 people. Patsy didn’t make it.” She let the tears flow freely now; it was the first time she had cried that day, but all of the sadness, anger, and guilt from earlier rushed out of her in a wave. She collapsed onto one of the beds hard, face buried in her hands as she let everything out. She vaguely felt Huang sit down next to her, patting her back in comfort, careful to touch lightly after hearing about her being shot. He let her cry until they became hiccupping sobs. Devon wiped her face with her shirt, trying to regain her composure. She tried to make it a point to not cry in front of people; she didn’t want to appear weak. The fact that Huang had been here to see her fall apart hurt her pride more than anything.

Huang waited until she seemed to be back in control before whispering, “Devon, why do you still do this job?”

The question caught her off guard, and an answer didn’t immediately jump out at her. She thought about it, really thought about it; why she got up in the morning, put on the badge, and went to deal with the worst side of humanity. Why she put her life on the line for strangers. Why she cared enough to help people.

“Because if I don’t, who will?” she sniffled. She wanted to expand on that, but the right words didn’t come up right away. She took a deep breath, tried to pull in her scattered thoughts, then said, “you’re right, you know. The lives saved are more important than the lives lost. This city, this world, can be a terrible, terrible place. But if I can save even one person, one child, then it’s worth it to me.” She sniffled again and blurted out, voice desperate, “I just want to help people.”

Huang nodded. “That’s a good answer. The fact that you even had an answer is a good sign, Devon. You still have your humanity. You’re still a good person.” Huang always knew exactly what Devon was really feeling; inadequate, remorseful, and most of all, guilty.

“Even if those 9 deaths are my fault?”

“Devon listen to me. Emma”—her name still hit Devon in the stomach—“knew what she was doing. It was her choice to cover the children’s escape. Besides, if you didn’t unlock that cage, what do you think would have happened to those kids?”

As much as Devon wanted to argue that the cage was out of the line of fire, she didn’t know what would have happened. Maybe the kids would’ve been safe until the firefight was over. Or maybe the traffickers would have decided that they didn’t want any witnesses.

“Survivor’s guilt takes time to digest, to move forward. I agree with your boss, too; talk to a psychiatrist about this. I can talk to you as a friend, but not as a doctor-patient anymore. The one in your sector is good, and a friend of mine,” Huang said.

Devon nodded, agreeing to go to the company shrink. “You know me, though. I can’t take time off; I’ll go insane.”

“You are a workaholic,” Huang agreed. He was the only one allowed to call her that, no matter how true it was. “How about I arrange Cragen to call you if he can use your help?”

Work for the NYPD? Busting low-level rapists and pedophiles? Trudging through the shit field work, the court systems, and the corrupted politics of the mayor’s office? “Sounds like a deal…as long as I don’t have to work with that Detective Stabler.”

“He can be a little abrasive,” Huang said, smiling. “But he grows on you…eventually.”

“Like a parasite?”

Huang laughed at that. “He is a good detective, and a pretty good person. He gets angry, and he’s headstrong. But at the end of the day, I’m glad SVU has him on their side.”

Conversation coming to an end, they both stood up. Devon didn’t really care what her face looked like after all that crying. All that mattered was that she was tired and hurting but feeling lighter than she had all day.

Huang stopped her as she went to leave. “Do me a favor, though.” When Devon arched an eyebrow, Huang said, “go see a doctor for that gunshot wound.”

#everyone deserves love #edl #fanfic #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #law & order svu #law & order svu fanfic #barba x oc #oc fanfic #my writing #chapter 1

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justsmilestuffhappens · 5 years ago

Text

7 Free day [Songs]

F!ve Christmasses

<*buckle up*>

A Christmas that never was

A - Another Christmas, Another empty house, Another reason,There is no Santa Claus, May all your Christmasses be white,Though mine are blue, It's just another Christmas without you

Buck took another swig from his glass that matched his eyes. Not that he could notice that with how watery they were now.

Who was he to ask them to stay though?

The music station he'd landed on was ironically perfect for how he felt but horrible at the same time.

What was he supposed to have told them even if he did? 'Take me with you'?

Buck looked at a picture of Christopher and Eddie from when they went to the zoo together a while back.

A ding interrupted the song as he saw Eddie had sent a message to everyone. It was a picture of Christopher smiling on his back holding a snowball. How cute?

A drop of water fell upon his screen and for a second Buck thought it was his A.C. until he realized no it was him.

Where did the empty hole in his chest come from?

It was just another couple of days then things would go back to normal. Right?

Maddie and Chimney were on their honeymoon. Hen and Karen had their new child who was warming to them and Denny. Bobby and Athena had May back with them and Harry and were celebrating Michael's recovery.

When would he finally be able to do something about his feeling?

Buck took the bottle and before he could have a second thought downed the half that was left, straight into the sink. He wouldn't put Bobby through seeing him like this, had to stop it now before. Just before.

He grabbed some water and began his trek up the stairs letting the darkness claim the lower floor.

Sip after slow sip Buck got his eye's clearer. He sent a "hope you're having fun, give my little bud a hug for me please" before silencing his phone.

Feeling emotional drained even when he'd done was nothing but sit around and cry for a bit Buck settled into bed. His comforter welcomed him not like a warm hug but as a hollow one.

12:01 am. The clock read. "Merry Christmas." He whispered to no one.

In the morning he'd be fine. He'd shower get to work and go to the party he'd been invited to later. Alone.

But for now he just needed to sleep. To forget about how miserable he felt for a couple of hours.

It wasn't anyone's fault.

Why did they have to leave?

He missed them so much. Did they miss him too? He wished they'd come back as his thoughts drifted into sleep.

A Christmas that was meant to be

β - Feeling Christmas all around, And I'm trying to play it cool, but it's hard to focus when I see you walking around the room, let it snow, it's blasting now, but I won't get in the mood, I'm avoiding every mistletoe until in know, it's true love that he thinks of, so next Christmas, I'm not all alone, boy

"Where did all the mistletoe go?" Chimney asked Hen as they walked upstairs.

Buck was sitting with Eddie. This two day Christmas was looking to be a dull one.

No very close or exciting calls but they weren't complaining on this Christmas eve. They'd be home for a bit tomorrow but back in later on in the day.

"Yeah. I noticed that too. Did Bobby tell you anything about it?" Eddie asked looking back at Buck.

"Huh? No. Maybe we lost a few last year or they were getting old and falling apart." Buck shrugged while sipping some hot chocolate Bobby made earlier.

They wouldn't find where Buck had stashed them. Well not till after Boxing day and it'd be too late by then. No kiss grenades this holiday season.

Eddie got up to get himself a cup as Buck's eyes never left him. Hen and Chim may have seen him but they didn't say anything though however painful it was to watch.

"So buck, you coming with Maddie and me for Christmas or ya got other plans?" Chim asked from hiding his hand of cards from Hen.

"Yeah. Probably party hop. Think Eddie's gonna have his abuela over and said I was welcome to swing by. How 'bout y'all Hen?"

"We're going to Athena's to drop off some gifts and visit for a bit then it's a movie marathon while watching Denny play with the new stuff he gets this year."

Eddie came back to sit by Buck taking a good warm gulp.

"Mhm. It's no Abuela hot chocolate but Bobby made it pretty good." He hummed sitting closer as they watched a rerun on t.v..

The alarm blared as Bobby came out of his office.

"Snow machine buried a guy who was drunk on the job. We're closest, let's go."

Buck didn't plan for the others finding the mistletoe hidden under spare heat blankets in the storeroom when they got back.

"Weren't you the last one on cleanup duty?" Hen said looking at him from over the box.

"Oh! That's where they were. I must have came to get something and forgot. Good thing too with all the cold and flu going around really." Buck looked anywhere but at the team as Bobby took the box and placed it in his arms.

"Well it's a good thing we found them before Christmas was over huh? Why don't you go finishing hanging them like I told you to before and I'll get started on dinner." His words left no room for protest even if buck never would anyways.

When he was done putting up the box Eddie laughed at him. "What's so funny?" Buck had to ask.

"This your way of telling people to kiss your ass?" Eddie asked pointing behind Buck.

He felt the mistletoe he'd forgotten in his back pocket. "No. I'm just distracted I guess" buck shook his head.

"You feeling okay?" Eddie asked coming over to feel his forehead.

"Don't dad me. I won't hear the end of it from Bobby." He joked.

"Can't wait to be off so we can relax with mi Abuela and Christopher tomorrow man."

"Well we've only got a couple hours. With any luck we'll be out before the next big call."

As fate would have it buck jinxed them with a house fire from someone deep frying their turkey in the middle of their dinner at the firehouse."I'm sorry." Buck said as they were on their way.

"Not your fault the universe likes picking the worst time Buck." With the fire out they were able to go home.

Buck went to his and picked up some clothes before going to spend the night at Eddie's to Chris's surprise. It was a good Christmas.

"Mistletoe Buck" Christopher shouted as he came back with popcorn before they opened a gift at midnight.

Buck froze as Eddie kissed his cheek then continued into the living room.

He winked at buck but before he could ask they were fully into opening all their gifts except the ones that Abuela would be bringing over. Buck had to ask him later if that was a one time thing.

A Christmas that almost wasn't

− · − · / I'll find my way back home, And light up every tree, We will hang our stockings for you and one for me, 'Cause Santa called me to make sure I'm prepared, He said "Pack your bags and tell them You'll be there",

Buck could put up with anything for them, he would put up with everything for them. Once he was done he'd be coming home.

His dad's passing right now was like one final act of spite against them. Buck didn't care about their inheritance, or the house, or the cars. But responsibility fell on him with mom gone and Maddie in her current state.

At least one of them had to come and with Maddie pregnant he'd bit the bullet. He always would.

Their dad wasn't some monster, more so a ghost before he was even dead. Buck barely remembered much of the time they spent together.

He'd been here since the beginning of December. One week became two and a half and he was getting desperate. With the funeral already long passed and only the house left he was glad they'd been understanding of Maddie skyping for the reading the will.

It was lucky someone already wanted the house and the cars weren't something he'd wanted buck to have anyways.

Now all he had to do was get to the airport for the first flight from Hershey to Los Angeles.

A snowstorm chose two days before Christmas to stop Buck's in his tracks. He stayed at the airport praying that he'd make it home but doubtful with what the news said.

He eyed one of the cleaning staff messing with a Christmas tree as he was throwing away his water.

"Come on. Please. Why do you do this every year?" The young guy had muttered as he tried turning it on again.

"Need some help?" Buck asked coming over.

"No. Sorry sir. The tree's just being finicky." He checked the plugs but it wasn't working.

"Have you seen if any of the bulbs are loose?" Buck asked whilst looking at it.

"What?!"

"If people touch it while walking by they could have messed up a bulb. All it takes is one sometimes to mess up a whole string of lights."

Buck helped him look as within a minute bits were back alight. "Holy shit. Sorry I didn't mean to say that. You know your stuff mister."

Buck laughed. He couldn't be more than a couple years older than this guy.

"Yeah. We used to have people decorate our house a lot. You pick up on things even if it's just watching people work." With that Buck moved back to his seat.

He looked at his phone to see a new message. It was a picture of Christopher standing next to a hanging shelf on the wall where their stockings were. His was on the other side of Chris's opposite Eddie.

"We miss you. Can't wait for you to get back. Christopher says to make sure to tell you we love you." Buck reads as he holds his phone closer to his chest as if it's the last source of warmth in a frozen land.

"Just my luck. Snowstorm. I'll tell you as soon as we're about to leave. I'm coming back, one way or another."

Buck fell asleep somehow in those chairs after securing his bag and phone.

He woke to a person dressed as Santa shaking his shoulder. "What?" He said groggy.

"Shh." They covered their lips and beckoned Buck to follow. Buck's body was on autopilot as he followed.

Santa silently pointing at a single present under the tree. Buck hesitated to pick it up and read his name.

As Santa urged him to open it with a wave of his hand, Buck did so.

It was a little ceramic firefighter figurine that looked like him. The kind you put in a little village on a table.

Buck looked up from his hand but Santa was gone. The next thing he noticed was waking up to people talking.

"Flight 811 now boarding." Buck jumped up too quickly as he moved to get in line. With the snowstorm subsiding even for a while he hoped they'd make it out.

He felt around for the figurine but it wasn't anywhere as he looked to where he was seated.

After texting Eddie that he'd had the weirdest dream but he had to turn off his phone soon for the flight the plane took off.

Buck made it home for Christmas eve with a few hours left to spare.

He got to the house just before 11 to Eddie already opening the door pulling him inside for a kiss.

"God I missed you."

"I missed you too. Both of you."

"Christopher's asleep. Take a shower and let's sleep. He's gonna love seeing you in the morning Buck." Eddie brought his bag over to their room as Buck hopped in the shower.

Buck was already asleep in the bed once he'd dried off in only his towel.

Eddie shook his head getting boxer briefs on him so Christopher wouldn't be seeing him naked in the morning. In their rush he couldn't ask Buck about his dream but it didn't sound bad so it could wait.

Christopher was shaking buck awake shouting you're finally back it's Christmas it's Christmas buck! It was the best way to wake up.

"Presents!" Christopher said only for Eddie to correct him.

"Breakfast first?" He said.

"Breakfast can wait. I want to see Christopher open my gift. How about only one then a breakfast break. I'll start it while you and your dad pick one each." Buck suggested kissing both of them as he got up to start.

Christopher opened a new video game as Eddie picked a dress shirt wrapped around a new thermos. Buck was given a present as he placed the food on the table. Inside was a new wallet with a gift card for one of their favorite restaurants in it.

After they quickly finished their eggs Buck went to check his stocking and froze when he looked down at the same figurine from his dream.

"Hmm. That's cute. Hey look Christopher we got our own too." Eddie said beside buck pulling their stockings to spill them out.

"I had a dream about this?"

"Your psychic?" Eddie joked.

"I dreamed Santa gave me this at the airport but I lost it." Buck said still staring at it with wonder.

"Santa brought you back just like I asked him Buck."Christopher said hugging him.

"Aww. You know I'd come back Christopher. Even if it was late I'd come back for you two." Buck said looking up at Eddie.

A knock at the door had Eddie moving to let their guests in.

A Christmas that could be

Д - singing to the deer in the sky, singing as they jingle, jingle, jingle tonight, singing to the moon, set it free, you're the angel on the top of my tree, singing to the spirit above, sing your heart out with all of your love, Santa's coming for us,

Eddie watched as the Christmas lights danced on Buck's face while they wheeled into the park set up.

"So a Santa Claus went dark side and now we've got a Krampus slasher on the loose?" Buck asked Cap while they drew closer to the crowd.

"No. The police have a very naughty Santa. We've got a stabbing victim and some decorations that have become a hazard so we need to clear them as much we can to prevent more injuries." Bobby said coming to a stop with the mess in view. Chimney and Hen pulled up beside them as they hopped out.

Eddie saw why there was a problem with finding the Santa it was like a mini convention. It unsettled him that whoever it was could possibly get away with it.

Hen was treating the stabbing victim while Chimney looked to see if any other bystanders were hurt.

"Buck, Eddie, we're getting this metal reindeer off her. Ma'am stay still until its completely off and we have you looked at. It doesn't seem you were cut too bad but you should still let us treat you. 1. 2. 3." Bobby ordered as they lifted the heavy lawn ornament.

"I'm fine that fucking reindeer isn't gonna kill me."

"I'm glad to hear you're still in high spirits miss but please let us have a look at you."

Chimney came over to check her after putting a neck brace.

"So these things were stacked?" Eddie asked as he and Buck moved the deer away from it being in the way or people touching it.

"Has to be some funky welding sculpture. Must have broken off when they bumped it too hard while evil Santa ran for it." Buck surmised.

"Alright! Santa's who have given statements and shown I.D. you are free to go. If you have any information on the assailant please call the department." Athena shouted before she came over.

"Hi Athena. Did they give a disruption." Bobby asked as she hugged him before pulling away.

"Caucasian male, thirty to forty but he'd got a forearm tattoo of a rabbit and a birthmark on his neck so that's something." Athena gestured.

"Hopefully y'all find him before he hurts someone else." Buck said.

"You know it. Strangest thing is no one in the crowd saw where he ran to. They were too shocked trying to help the victim which while making it harder is worth it since one of them was pre-med and helped as much as they could."

Buck moved with Eddie to try getting more of the heavy decorations further from the walking path that they'd been shoved into.

After they pushed the original reindeer sculpture and some other large decorations Buck heard Eddie before he felt himself being punched in the back of his head. "Ow! What the fuck?"

In the next few seconds things moved too fast. Buck whirled around to defend himself.

Eddie ran back closer from where he'd been going to regroup waiting for buck to catch up.

The anti Santa was suddenly there and pissed off. Buck got a good right hook in before there was suddenly blood.

Everyone froze or at least buck did as he took in what he saw. Eddie was finally over and checking buck before turning to the bad Santa.

A metal angel tree topper had fallen and lodged into his arm with its trumpet?

"Don't pull it out! You need to get to a hospital then you're under arrest." Eddie told him while his anger seemed to deflate.

Buck looked past Eddie's shielding him with his body while rubbing his head.

"You're under arrest. We're gonna get you treated and booked sir." Athena said coming over as the Santa gave up.

With him in cuffs and his arm wrapped until he'd gets to the hospital in a second ambulance things were finally calm again.

"Buck keep the ice. Chimney says you don't have a concussion but you feel the slightest bit bad I expect to be told." Bobby said while they packed up what little gear they used.

"Hey Eddie. Santa Claus is coming to Ow!" Buck said inside the truck earning a shake of Eddie's head while Bobby radioed that was a strike for Buck having a concussion earning a groan of I can't make bad jokes?

Eddie wanted to hit him for joking but that would contradict his desire of wanting to see buck hurt. "He was in the box. Guy must be a contortionist." Eddie told buck which only earned a shocked gasp from buck and a quiet no way.

Once they were back in the station he was watching Buck like a hawk along with Bobby as they waited for Hen and Chim.

"You know the last time someone looked at me that hard we had sex" buck joked trying to lighten the mood.

"Like you could handle me, especially right now." Eddie scoffed.

"I don't have a concussion! And I can handle a lot of things, you'd be surprised. Haven't gotten any complaints yet." Buck puffed his chest and wiggled an eyebrow.

"I'm not looking for a one night stand though buck." Eddie regretted how that sounded.

"Who said it's gotta be one. I may not be buck 1.0 but I've got his experience. Just don't go for random hookups anymore." Buck came over.

"Are you just asking me out because you got hit in the head?" Eddie turned to look buck in the eye.

"Maybe that punch was the kick in my ass i needed to finally ask you what I've been too scared to."

"Ask me later, after you're all good. If you still feel like it."

"I will. I'll ask you a million times if I have to. I'm serious. I've been thinking about us for a while I just didn't want to risk anything"

"Good. I look forward to you asking me out at the Christmas party Bobby's hosting with Athena."

With that they went back to sitting around waiting for the next call. Hen and chimney joined as Bobby finished their late lunch.

Buck wasn't lying. He'd ask Eddie again tomorrow and have Hen say he didn't have a concussion too.

But for now he was content to sit here together. At least it was out in the open now and there was hope.

How Christmas should be

5 - I found, what I was looking for, a love that's meant for me, a heart that's mine completely, knocked me right off my feet, and this year I will fall, with no worries at all, 'Cause you are near and everything's clear, you're all I need, underneath the tree

Buck felt electrified like a living Christmas light. Today was the day he'd finally put it out there. He thought Eddie felt something too and it felt right.

Once they were off he'd confess that he'd slowly been falling deeper and deeper in love with his best friend. He had to find out if they could be more.

Their shift had been long with only one major call of kids breaking a fire hydrant and causing havoc with multiple injuries but not too bad that anyone would need to be hospitalized.

As buck was getting ready for the shift to end and to tell Eddie about them the alarm blared.

The shift in temperature had caused the ground to unsettle and a couple to slide off a cliff.

They'd gotten the first woman up but her girlfriend was further down.

Buck repelled lower to get her as Eddie was set to descend with the other girl safe above now.

Buck got a harness on her and they began pulling her up along side him when a large rock fell towards them.

Before buck could think of anything else he moved to shield her and took a hit to his helmet.

Eddie screamed his name as they continued to pull her up.

Buck looked to be okay as he followed behind her being taken into Eddie's guidance.

Once they were topside Eddie was asking if buck was okay while Bobby and hen took the other girl.

"I'm fine dude. My helmet took the most of-"

Before buck could finish he was tumbling. He didn't know if it was his adrenaline leaving him or his injury finally feeling so painful but he felt as Eddie got him before he could full hit the ground.

With his helmet off they could see the lump forming.

"Damn it. Thank God you're off the blood thinners finally." He couldn't tell who said it but guessed it was Eddie.

"We'll take him in ourselves. Hen, the girls are good right?" Bobby said as they moved him over to the ambo.

"They only had a few minor scrapes. Chim and I got him. You two can follow." They were at the hospital in a blur. So much for today being the day. His plan was ruined.

"It's just a mild concussion. You'll be fine. Stay with us Buck" chimney said besides him on the way.

"It's ruined."

"What's ruined?"

"I was gonna tell Eddie"

"Tell him what? You've still got time, "

"That I-"

"Buck. BUCK open your eyes! buck buddy no, stay awake man."

He woke to Maddie sitting next to him on her phone as the tv was quiet.

"Good. You're awake." She said looking over. "You gave us a little scare."

"What time is it?"

"It's 10 thirty. You've been in here for a good two hours. Doctor says you'll be fine but don't want you pushing yourself too soon."

"I'm ruining Christmas"

"No. Christmas is fine. You might be out if your next results are good. Even if you did have to stay here, it's not a problem for us to visit you here or wait a couple days for you to get out." Maddie put a comforting hand on him.

"Is Eddie okay?"

"Why wouldn't he be? He's safe at home with Christopher. Its a little late to visit but if we're still here he said he'd stop by tomorrow. You aren't in pain and you're talking fine. Hopefully those are good enough signs towards you getting out."

The doctor explained more. Buck could leave now but they would suggest he stay. However if he's careful and being watched by others she felt he would be fine.

With Buck signed out Maddie and him got to her place where Chimney was waiting with a late dinner. "Dude I'm starving." Buck said smelling the food.

"You're always hungry Buck. Figures with how big you are your body needs the extra energy" chimney said as buck looked over to see his bag and gifts from his place in the living room.

"I got your stuff from work then wrung by yours after. You'll get to do what you said tomorrow after you rest." Chimney said knowing smirk on his face.

"What did buck say earlier?"

"Nothing mads."

"That he-"

"I had a concussion! Wasn't I a patient? Isn't this a breach of trust or something?"

"He might have said he needed to tell Eddie something." Chimney said earning an exaggerated face.

"Is that why you asked if he was okay at the hospital?"

"There's no breach of trust if you brought it up to her buck. And from what we've seen, concussion or not you two are obvious to everyone but yourselves."

"You really do have a boy crush."

"Stop calling it that. Sure Eddie's attractive, and. I may like him more than a friend should." Buck quieted at the end.

"Don't tell him this but I've caught him checking you out before." Chimney said.

"What?"

"Maybe it's not so one sided Buck. Just talk to him." Maddie looked at him with understand.

After that awkward but supportive dinner and some good sleep they were up and ready for the get together with the others.

Everyone promised to open their gifts together before some of them had duty later in the day.

Buck took a gulp of eggnog as he waited for a chance to talk to Eddie face to face.

He came in with Christopher and they helped get the gifts from Eddie's truck.

Once the kids were gleefully playing with their newest toys buck took the chance.

"Can I talk to you outside for a second?"

"Sure buck. Let me get my jacket."

So they took to the front as the kids were in the back and in Harry's room.

"Yesterday I was planning to tell you something important."

"Hen might have told me."

"What?"

"She just said we needed to talk. You said so in the ambulance before we had to leave you to finish our shift then it was too late to take Christopher for only a half hour before he needed to be in bed."

"Yeah. That's okay. It would have been nice but I still got to see him and give him my gift today." Buck said. "But about that. I know we're friends. I know I might come off as straight but I-."

"You're not the only one."

Buck continued on needed to get this out before realizing what Eddie said.

"I've been into guys before, I just haven't been into many, not as quickly as I was into you. I want that for us. I know that it might be hard but I feel like we could have something."

"I think. No. I know I'm in love with you. I'm willing to try this but I don't want to lose you." Eddie said pulling buck closer.

"You won't. I'll always be here. Its where I want to be with you. I love you two, both of you."

"We need to talk about other things. I have to tell you stuff you deserve to know and the truth."

"I'm here. Whenever you're ready. Now or tomorrow but soon if it's important. As long as we're in this together we've got as much time as you need."

Buck finally did something he'd been thinking about doing for a while. He kissed Eddie the way he wanted. The way he deserved to be kissed. They stayed there with their foreheads connected breathing as the cold air blew.

"I can't believe they knew about us wanting this." Buck admitted still holding Eddie thinking about going back in.

"I can. We see the others every day and if I look back it's been like this for a while. I felt like this."

"Let's go inside. The kids are probably already back in. I want to play with Chris's new jeep. He said he loved it because it looks like mine."

Eddie grabbed Buck's hand and led him in. They were joined at the hip like usual the rest of the afternoon. Christopher was as happy as could be and they were too.

Buck felt like this was what he'd been looking for for so long. They'd work together to make this relationship last. He was in it and he knew Eddie was too. "You feeling good Buck?" Athena asked sitting next to him.

"Better than I've ever been." Buck told her with a smile and he meant it. "Merry Christmas Athena"

"Merry Christmas Buck." She hugged him as Christopher came over with his new drone.

"Cool bud. But you know your not supposed to play with it in doors right?"

"I know buck. Thank you for the jeep."

"Sure thing superman." Buck scooted over for Christopher to sit between Eddie and him. He felt warmth fill him as Eddie and him listened to what Harry and Denny showed Christopher and played with him earlier.

#buddie #solo mio #my writing #buddiemas #12daysofbuddie #12daysofbuddiemas #long #ficlet #fic #Christmas #Buck Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Christopher Diaz #this is a monster and i need to upload it to ao3 soon because wow #tags #pushing the limit of my text posts

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fortheheavenssake · 5 years ago

Text

💜💜 PG MM Anon(II) 💜💜 Interpretation Collection - 3

13. May 12

MM ANON …… Thrive???………… definitely Malibu ………wear a mask ………… confusing but amusing ……… a question of credibility ……… 🎼 we can be heroes ……🎼…” what ever happened to wrinkle cream?”……… love and hugs to all our anon friends ……… 🎼 now there are three steps to heaven 🎼………… Brave New World ……… a quiet Queen.

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #13

SORRY IT IS A DAY LATE AGAIN

0935 HRS CST

FOR ENTERTAINMENT ONLY

Thrive???

IN WHAT I BELIEVE, IS HIS THIRD VIDEO APPEARANCE RECENTLY, HARRY CONGRATULATED THE U.K.’S YOUNG PEOPLE FOR NOT JUST SURVIVING BUT THRIVING DURING THE PANDEMIC. HE GAVE SOME VERY ENCOURAGING WORDS. I FEEL THIS IS THE PATH THEY HAVE CHOSEN TO REINTRODUCE OUR HARRY. SLOWLY REINVOLVING HIM, NOTHING LIVE OR IN PUBLIC, BUT VIDEO AND PERTINENT TOPICS. I THIS IS VERY WISE AND GIVES ME EXTREME HOPE!!!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜 VERY MUCH PRESSING, LIKE THE VE DAY VIDEO.

WHAT A JOKE, IN THE VIDEO DONE IN SOUTH AFRICA, MADAM STOLE THE FAMOUS LINE, ONE DOES NOT WANT TO MERELY SURVIVE BUT TO THRIVE, WHICH BY THE WAY HAS BEEN USED BY AN AMERICAN VITAMIN TV AD IN RECENT MONTHS, EVERY TIME IT COMES ON I BURST INTO LAUGHTER…I GUESS IT MAKES ME THRIVE WITHOUT TAKING IT🤣🤣🤣😂😂. SO MADAM IS PR ING HER WAY THROUGH A FAKE LIFE WITH HARRY AND ARCHIFICIAL, WHILE BEING HOSPITALIZED OR PERHAPS DISCHARGED NOW AND BACK TO MIO OR SOMEONE ELSE COUCH. SO PATHETIC, SHE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL, BUT BY ANYONES IDEAS SHE IS JUST BARELY SURVIVING, IN EVERY SINGLE WAY. SO VERY SAD.

definitely Malibu ………

MALBU DUCHESS DINO BARELY? IS THAT THE GOAL? PR ING A BEACH HOUSE AND BEACH VIEW, MANSIONS AND A PLETHORA OF A LIST BESTIES AND OFFERS ROLLING IN??? HMMMM. NOT BUYING IT, NOT AT ALL NO MATTER WHAT PR IS TOSSED OUT AT US.

wear a mask ………… confusing but amusing ………a question of credibility

GUIDELINES GIVEN. BY THE U.K. GOVERNMENT ARE CONTINUING TO BE CONFUSING, IN FACT AT TIME THE PM HIMSELF APPEARED BEFUDDLED. TO BE HONEST, I AM ALSO CONFUSED ABOUT WHERE, WHEN TO WEAR A MASK, DOES IT PREVENT, PROTECT, SLOW DOWN TRANSMISSION. GOOD SOLID HANDWASHING, AVOIDING TOUCHING YOUR FACE AND HAND SANITIZER THOSE ARE MOST IMPORTANT.

IF ONE, IN A ROLE OF ANY OFFICIAL CAPACITY, BE IT PM, HIS CABINET, HEALTH OFFICERS ETC ETC ARE NOT CLEAR, CONCISE, USE LANGUAGE EVERYONE CAN UNDERSTAND AND MAKE SENSE OF, THEIR CREDIBILITY IS CALLED INTO QUESTION OR CAN BE. I SAW THE DM ARTICLE THE OTHER DAY OF PM JOHNSON WALKING, UNMASKED, IN THE PARK WITH A TOSS AWAY COSTA COFFEE CUP, HE WAS CONFRONTED BY WHAT LOOKED LIKE AN ORDINARY CITIZEN, WHO I CANNOT RECALL WHO HE WAS BUT HE WAS SOME BIG CORPORATE GUY, ABOUT THE CONFUSION IN GOVERNMENT MESSAGING REGARDING THE STEPS OF UNLOCKINGDOWN. NEW WORD YEP I MADE IT!

🎼 we can be heroes ……🎼

MM ANON RETURNS TO ONE OF HER FAVES, DAVID BOWIE. THIS SONG CALLED HEROES IS AN OLD ONE BUT GREAT. THIS SPEAKS TO HOW EVERYDAY ORDINARY PEOPLE CAN BE AND ARE HEROES. THINGS WE DO, SEEN AND UNSEEN ARE HEROIC. THIS HAS EXPLODED INTO EVIDENCE PUBLICLY DURING THIS WHOLE PANDEMIC. UNLIMITED AMOUNT OF HEROES DISPLAYED IN EVERY CORNER OF LIFE AND VIRTUALLY EVERY CORNER OF THE WORLD. AMAZING.

…” what ever happened to wrinkle cream?”………

WELL I STILL AM HERE🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂FOR THOSE HERE LONG ENOUGH TO REMEMBER MY SKIN EXPERTISE AND LOVE OF SERUMS AND POTIONS, DISPENSER OF ADVICE.

I THINK THIS TEFERS TO MADAM AND THE DRASTIC ALTERATIONS IN HER FACE WE HAVE SEEN…LOTS AND LOTS OF APPEARING TO BE SURGICAL AND MEDICAL INTERVENTIONS, CAMERA FILTERS FOR SURE. NO, NO ORDINARY SERUMS AND CREAMS COULD TACKLE THE THINGS SHE WANTED DONE. MANY ACROSS THE GLOBE SEEK SURGERY AND MEDICAL INTERVENTION FOR THE SAME REASON. ITS A MULTIBILLION DOLLAR THRIVING BUSINESS AND GROWING. HEY, I LOVE MY SERUMS ETC BUT EVERY ALMOST WRINKLE I HAVE, I HAVE EARNED!!! AGING IS A GIFT, JUST LOOK AROUND SEE YOUNG PEOPLE WITH CANCER OR KILLED IN ACCIDENTS. WITH AGE COMES WISDOM.😊(HOPEFULLY 🤣🤣🤣😂)

love and hugs to all our anon friends ………

THIS IS SO SWEET OF YOU MM ANON, THERE ARE MANY WHO HAVE HAD THEIR ONLINE WORLD SHATTERED RECENTLY. THERE ARE MANY HERE WHO HAVE BEEN HERE FOR HARRY AND OUR BELOVED ROYALS FOR A VERY LONG TIME, TRUTH TELLING, EXPOSING LIES AND ON AND ON. VERY LOYAL INDIVIDUALS INDEED.

🎼 now there are three steps to heaven 🎼…………

OK I HAD TO LOOK THIS UP. OLD SONG BY SHOWADDYWADDY. ITS ABOUT HEAVEN MEANING INTIMACY AND A RELATIONSHIP . FIRST STEP GET A GIRL, SECOND FALL IN LOVE THEN BOOM COMMIT THREE STEPS THEN YOU ARE IN HEAVEN.

ALAS LIFE IS NOT SO SIMPLE , AND WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING ACTUAL HEAVEN HERE. THIS HAS NOT, UNFORTUNATELY FOR OUR HARRY AND MANY OF US, BEEN SO EASY. I PRAY HE IS STILL WITH HIS ENGLISH ROSE AND EVENTUALLY THEY CAN OFFICIALLY BE TOGETHER.

Brave New World ………

STUDIED THIS BOOK IN HIGH SCHOOL, WEIRD CONTROLLED DYSTOPIAN WORLD, WHERE EVERY MOVE WAS PREARRANGED CONTROLLED BY THE GOVERNMENT, VERY MUCH LIKE WHAT WE HAVE BEEN AND ARE LIVING THROUGH,YET COMPLETELY DIFFERENT IN THAT THIS IS FOR LIFE AND DEATH SAKE. CONSPIRACY THEORIES ABOUND, I WILL NOT GO FURTHER. IT WILL BE INTERESTING TO SEE HOW THE UNLOCKDOWN WORKS. I PRAY 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 THAT WE DONT HAVE MASSIVE SPIKES BUT I DO WORRY ABOUT ALL THE CHILDREN THAT GLOBALLY HAVE BEEN GETTING SO SICK.

a quiet Queen.

HMTQ HAS BEEEN ISOLATING AT WINDSOR CASTLE WITH HRH THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH. GIVEN THE AGGRESSIVE NATURE OF THIS VIRUS, ITS EFFECTS ON THE ELDERLY, AND NO TREATMENT OR VACCINE, SHE MAY NEED TO REMAIN THERE INDEFINITELY, UNTIL AN EFFECTIVE VACCINE IS SAFE AND AVAILABLE. I HAVE BEEN READING ABOUT THAT.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————

14. May 13

MM ANON …… for saving my mother ……… father ……… grandmother …… grandfather …son ……… sister……… brother……… daughter ………… thank you for saving my life nurse / doctor /……… how can I EVER thank you all ……… from the bottom of my ❣ ……… I can never find the words ……… my gratitude is unending ……… god bless you all. ……… GOD BLESS YOU ALL!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

* Entertainment only

Lovely tribute …in riddle form! Thank you! God Bless you!🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

MAY 13/2020

0055 HRS CST

RIDDLE #14

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

I NURSED FOR WELL OVER 20 YEARS IN VARIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES. I CAN SAY IT TOOK YOUR BODY, HEART AND SOUL, ITS A CALLING, AN ART, I LIVED MY FAITH IN SERVING CHRIST IN THIS I MANNER. I HAVE HAD THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING WITH INDIVIDUALS IN THE WORST MOMENTS OF THEIR LIVES TO HEALING. BUT ALSO THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING WITH PEOPLE WHEN THEY DIED. I MISSED MANY HOLIDAYS, FAMILY TIME, DOUBLE SHIFT AFTER DOUBLE SHIFT. THE MOST REWARDING CAREER EVER. I WOULD NOT CHANGE A THING. DEALING WITH FAMILIES TOO WAS AT TIME EXTREMELY DIFFICULT AND ALSO EXTREMELY REWARDING. IT IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART BUT IF YOU ARE CALLED TO SERVE, JUMP AT THE CHANCE, YOU WILL NEVER REGRET IT. I SALUTE ALL MY FELLOW NURSES HERE ON TUMBLR, THOSE WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE, THOSE SERVING NOW AND THOSE YET TO COME.🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💐💐💐💐

GOD BLESS YOU MM ANON

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

15. May 13

MM ANON ……… “come on Kate, off to Queens”……… Charlotte goes first……… “George ‘ get your bicycle “……… 🎼bye bye miss American spy🎼……… 🎼listen , do you want to know a secret 🎼……… stay alert 🤣🤣🤣……… trains, planes and automobiles……… driving miss day-see? ……… FOUR!!!! …………… an art gallery,when??……… single prayers please.

Thank you MM Anon.😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE#15

1650 HRS

KIDS I HAVE BEEN OUT OF THE LOOP A BUT NOW SOME FAMILY ILLNESS PREOCCUPYING ME SO, I WILL ALREADY SAY, THIS RIDDLE LOOKS EASY BUT ONLY IF YOU ARE IN THE LOOP!

💜💜💜💜💜I TRIED MY BEST💜💜💜💜💜

“come on Kate, off to Queens”……… Charlotte goes first……… “George ‘ get your bicycle “………

I WONDER IF THIS MIGHT JUST BE, ALTHOUGH THE KATE/CATHERINE THING, BUT I WILL CONTINUE….WITH MORE PUBLIC EXERCISE AVAILABLE NOW OR RATHER OUTDOORS TIME, I WONDER IF THE FAMILY IS HEADING TO QUEENS PARK. CHARLOTTE GOES FIRST ON HER BIKE AND GEORGE BRINGS UP THE REAR AS HE IS OLDER. HOW FANTASTIC WOULD THIS BE? THIS IS PURE SPECULATION ON MY PART OR WISH FOR THEM PERHAPS.

🎼bye bye miss American spy🎼………

OLD SONG BYE BYE MISS AMERICAN PIE, NEIL YOUNG CANADIAN😁😁😁😁🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦. YES APPARENTLY DEAR MADAM HAS BEEN KEEPING A SECRET JOURNAL OF EVERYTHING SHE WITNESSED IN THE ROYAL FAMILY. I THINK THAT IS DISGUSTING. SEEMINGLY IT IS BYE BYE SO…..EMBARGO TIME.??? EITHER WAY, IT WILL NOT HAPPEN. ARE THERE NO DEPTHS SHE WILL NOT SINK TOO?? THE ANSWER IS NO BECAUSE OF SULPHUROUS EVIL SHE SERVES. 👁 👁 👁 👁 👁 HAVE DONE THEIR WORK, EVIDENCE IS IN, AND IT IS NOT LOOKING GOOD FOR THE YANKEE MATA HARI🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHO MATA HARI IS, GO STUDY HISTORY FASCINATING. ARE CHARGES GOING TO INCLUDE NATIONAL SECURITY ISSUES?? I THINK MORE THAN EVER THE STAR CHAMBER AND ITS JUSTICES HAVE BEEN KNEE DEEP IN THIS INFORMATION AND EVIDENCE!!

🎼listen , do you want to know a secret 🎼………

DIDN’T HAVE TO LOOK THIS UP EITHER, THIS IS FROM FROZEN, AS ANY PARENT WILL TELL YOU🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. I AM AUNTIE SO I KNOW IT TOO. THIS APPLIES AGAINS TO THAT BLOODY SECRET JOURNAL OF LIES PROBABLY MIXED WITH VERY PRIVATE INFORMATION DURING HER TIME WITH OUR BELOVED ROYAL FAMILY. EMBARGO!!

ALSO, ANNOUNCED YESTERDAY, THAT HMTQ, THE CAMBRIDGES AND HRH PRINCE CHARLES ARE FREEZING ALL RECRUITMENTS AS THEY CONTINUE TO ISOLATE WITH REDUCED HOUSEHOLD STAFF AT THEIR RESPECTIVE ROYAL.

THE SONG IS FROM THE MOVIE FROZEN……SO FREEZE FROZEN GET THE RIFF??

stay alert 🤣🤣🤣………

AGAIN DIRECTIONS GIVEN FOR THE PUBLIC FOR YEARS NOW STAY ALERT TO ANYTHING UNUSUAL AND REPORT IT IE RELATED TO TERRORIST ATTACKS. BUT THIS HAS LAUGHTER SO IT IS NOT THAT. STAY ALERT TO HOW CLOSE YOU GET TO OTHERS ON A CROWDED BUS WITH TWO METRE DISTANCE BETWEEN EACH PERSON NOT VERY LIKELY IS IT. IT SEEMS ABSURD, CANNOT GO TO ANOTHER HOME BUT CAN GO TO WORK ON CROWDED PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. ITS THE OXYMORON OF ALL TIME🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

trains, planes and automobiles………

THIS IS A GREAT AGAIN CANADIAN 🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦 FILM STARRING THE GREAT JOHN CANDY🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦RIP. TRYING DESPERATELY TO GET SOMEWHERE USING EVERY AVAILABLE MEANS. WITH THE TUBE OVERCROWDED AND INFECTED, I WONDER IF THIS IS REFERRING TO HOW PEOPLE WHO ARE WORKING IR RETURNING TO WORKING ARE GETTING THERE AND BACK AGAIN.

driving miss day-see? ………

ANOTHER THING NO GOOGLING REQUIRED, RIFF ON THE FANTASTIC PLAY WITH ANGELA LANSBURY, I SAW IT SHE WAS BRILLIANT AND ALSO A FILM ABOUT AN AGING WOMAN IN THE 1950’S SOUTH BEGINNING TO LOSE HER FACULTIES SO HER SON HIRES A CHAUFFEUR TO DRIVE HER. SHE WANTS NAUGHT TO DO WITH HIM. HERE WE HAVE MISS DAY-SEE….SO THIS IS A DAY TRIP TO SEE SOMETHING. WHO IS MISS, CHARLOTTE IS A MISS BUT YOUNG. 🤔 HMMM MISS STACY, WHO IS STACY. OR SOMEONE JUST GETTING OUT FOR A DRIVE BY CHAUFFEUR HMTQ IS NOT A MISS BUTBIT MIGHT BE HER . SORRY KIDS I AM ALL OVER THE MAP GUESSING HERE.

FOUR!!!! ……………

FORE IS A GOLFING EXPRESSION TO WARN A BALL IS IN PLAY AND TO MIND YOURSELF. WHATS THIS WARNING FOUR AND FOUR EXCLAMATION MARKS? GOLLY I WISH IT MEANT CAMBRIDGE BABY NUMBER FOUR. I KNOW I DO CARRY ON SO ABOUT THAT BUT WOULDN’T IT BE JUST MARVELLOUS? I AM CERTAIN WILLIAM MIGHT BE YELLING HELP🤣🤣🤣😂😂, I REMEMBER WHEN HRH PRINCE LOUIS WAS BORN, HE TOOK THE CHILDREN TO SEE HIM, GESTURED ST PHOTOGRAPHERS THREE NOW!!! 👶 👶 👶 🍼

an art gallery,when??………

TWO THINGS HERE, THE FIRST IS THE HOLD STILL, EXHIBIT THAT THE ROYAL PHOTOGRAPHIC SOCIETY IS DOING WITH CATHERINE AS THEIR PATRON. IF YOU ARE UNFAMILIAR, THEY ARE SOLICITING PHOTOS FROM THE PUBLIC FOR EXPERIENCES DURING THE PANDEMIC. I BELIEVE THEY WANT TO WHITTLE IT DOWN TO 100 . MY THAT WILL BE A MONUMENTAL TASK WILL IT NOT? ALSO, TODAY ARTHUR EDWARDS, NOTED ROYAL PHOTOGRAPHER MADE SOME ABSOLUTELY LOVELY COMMENTS ABOUT CATHERINE’S SKILL IN PHOTOGRAPHY AND HOW IT HAS GROWN. MIGHT WE, AT SOME POINT IN THE FUTURE, SEE AN EXHIBIT OF HER WORK? WE LOVE THE PHOTOS OF THE CHILDREN💜💜💜💜💕💕💕💕💜💜💜💜. MY THAT WOULD BE A WONDERFUL EXHIBIT. NATURE SCENES, URBAN, ANYTHING.

single prayers please.

I THINK THIS IS A PLAY ON WORDS, PEOPLE TO WALK SINGLE FILE, WITH PHYSICAL DISTANCING AS MORE MOVEMENT IS ALLOWED, PEOPLE RETURNING TO WORK, SHOP ETC. I FULLY BELIEVE MANY MANY PRAYERS 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 ARE BEING SAID SO THAT THE VIRUS WILL NOT AGAIN CAUSE A MASSIVE SECOND WAVE OF INFECTIONS AS RESTRICTIONS ARE SLOWLY EASED.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you MM Anon.😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————-

16. May 14

MM ANON …… school of thought ……… bulldoze in and takeover ……… Braveheart & Boris ………… dead theatre ……… GOT………… Charlotte summer ……… anticipation of antibodies ………… China???………… death of Hollywood ………… 🎼blow a little whistle 🎼………… we have no plan B……… I’m so bored ………… “ we’re gonna need a bigger fence”

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊💜💜

MAY 15/2020

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #16. 1600 HRS

school of thought ……… bulldoze in and takeover

OH GOOD HEAVENS WHERE DO I START?? MADAM WAS UP TO NO GOOD AGAIN TODAY AND AS USUAL DETAILS KEEP CHANGING. FIRST MADAM AND “H” CRASHED A ZOOM MEETING OF UNION OF TEACHERS, OH WAIT NO, NO NO, NO NO, IT WAS A MENTAL HEALTH WORKERS HOTLINE ZOOM MEETING WAIT TEN MINUTES THE STORY WILL CHANGE YET.

AS PER USUAL THE DETAILS ARE WHERE MADAM HAS EPIC FAILS, THE SIZE OF THE PHOTOSHOPPED HARRY IS NOT IN SYNC WITH HER AND HER POSITION. AS PER HER USUAL SHE CHOOSES THE UNIFORM SHIRT AND THE WORST POSSIBLE FUZZY PHOTO OF HARRY AND SHE IS CRYSTAL CLEAR.

JUST ALLEGEDLY SOMEHOW CRASHED THIS ZOOM MEETING ABD QUITE LITERALLY TOOK IT OVER. MIND YOU MADAM IS AN EXPERT AT TEACHERS, UNIONS, AND MENTAL HEALTH😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣. MY SIDE HURTS FROM LAUGHING.

……… Braveheart & Boris

THE SNP, NICOLA STURGEON AND PM BORIS JOHNSON HAVE HAD THEIR DISAGREEMENTS. WHILE HE WAS ILL SHE WAS QUITE STRONG BUT SINCE HE HAS RETURNED HE HAS ALL BUT PUT HER IN THE PLACE WHERE HE THINKS SHE SHOULD BE. THE BRAVEHEART , WILLIAM WALLACE SCOTTISH FREEDOM FIGHTER. SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 THE BRAVE…..OH FLOWER OF SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 . NEEDLESS TO SAY, THERE HAVE BEEN AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE ISSUES. A GREAT DEAL OF SCOTS WANT INDEPENDENCE. THE FUTURE OF THAT WILL E INTERESTING TO WATCH ALSO.

40698985030_fd04d9bfbe_b_1024x1024.jpeg

………… dead theatre

THEATRES CLOSED, MOVIES CLOSED, ETC ETC ETC. THERE IS SO MUCH COLLATERAL FALLOUT DAMAGE, DESTRUCTION, FROM THIS PANDEMIC. IT SEEMINGLY GETS BIGGER DAILY. FEMICIDE IS INCREASING. IN 🇨🇦 7 WOMEN HAVE BEEN MURDERED BY THEIR PARTNERS SINCE THE LOCKDOWN BEGAN. THIS TRULY IS GHASTLY ON AN UNPRECEDENTED SCALE. ALARM BELLS SHOULD BE RINGING WORLDWIDE.

……… GOT…………

GOT GAME OF THRONES….OH HOW I MISS IT😫😫😫😫😫😩😩😩😩😩😖😖😖😖🥺🥺🥺. FEELS LIKE A GAME DOESNT IT BUT ITS REAL, REAL LIVES. REAL HARRY IS BEING DRAGGED ALONG INA FAKE PR RELATIONSHIP. I DO NOT KNOW WHY THIS IS ALLOWED TO CONTINUE, HMTQ MUST HAVE HER REASONS. BUT THE INVOLVEMENT OF THE DUO IN AT FIRST A TEACHERS UNION MEETING GOES AGAINST ROYALPROTOCOL….GOOD HEAVENS HARRY KNOWS THAT…HE IS NOT WITH HER. THEN MADAM MUST HAVE HEARD OR READ THAT, SO THE STORY QUICKLY CHANGED TO A MENTAL HEALTH SUPPORT LINE MEETING.

I AM NOT SURE WHICH CHARACTER SHE WOULD….. BE IN GOT……ONE OF THE NIGHT KING’S DEAD ALIVE MINIONS DOING EVIL METHINKS.

Charlotte summer ………

WHAT WILL OUR LOTTIE BE UP TO? TENNIS LESSONS? WITH MUMMY? OH I AM CERTAIN SHE HAS IDEAS OF ALLSORTS. LOVE HER TO PIECES💜💜💜💜.

anticipation of antibodies …………

THERE HAS BEEN A NEW CONFIRMED MEASUREMENT FOR ANTIBODIES EVIDENT IN SEROLOGICAL TESTING. THIS IS A HUGE BREAKTHROUGH IN TERMS OF TRACKING WHO HAS ANTIBODIES BUT WAS ASYMPTOMATIC. MASSIVE BRILLIANT NEWS.

China???…………

SADLY IN OUR COUNTRY 🇨🇦, ESPECIALLY OUT WEST, THERE HAS BEEN A SPATE OF ASSAULTS, VERBAL ABUSE OF ASIANS, IN CANADA ASIANS ARE CHINESE, ETC. IN THE U.K. ASIANS ARE FROM PAKISTAN, AFGHANISTAN ETC. SAME WORD VERY DIFFERENT MEANINGS, JUST SHARING THE INFORMATION. THERE ARE MANY QUESTIONS ABOUT THE REAL ORIGIN OF THE COVID-19 STRAIN OF THE CORONAVIRUS FIRST EVIDENT IN WUHAN CHINA. HOWEVER, IN SOME EUROPEAN COUNTRIES, UNFORTUNATELY I CANNOT RECALL EXACTLY WHICH, I THINK SPAIN….BUT THEY RETESTED SAMPLES FROM LATE LAST YEAR, AND THEY TESTED POSITIVE FOR THE VIRUS VARIANT. SO THIS WAS OUT EARLIER BUT WHY DIDNT IT SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE THEN? THERE IS SO MUCH UNKNOWN, NOW WE HAVE TODAY CONFIRMATION THAT THESE RASHLIKE SYMPTOMS, SIMILAR TO KAWASAKI DISEASE ARE IN FACT CAUSED BY THIS BASTARD OF A VIRUS.

THERE ARE A MYRIAD OF ISSUES AND A ZILLION CONSPIRACY THEORIES. BUT WE NEED TO GET OUR ACT TOGETHER BEFORE THINGS GET REALLY OUT OF CONTROL.

death of Hollywood …………

NO MORE HOLLYWOOD MOVIES , NO SUMMER BLOCKBUSTERS, NOTHING IN PRODUCTION…..THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. THE NEW HEROES ARE REAL LIFE HEROES, TRUCK DRIVERS, GROCERY STORE WORKERS, SHELF STOCKERS, MEDICAL PERSONNEL, NURSES AND ON AND ON, THERE IS NO UNRINGING THIS BELL 🔔. THE WORLD IS FOREVER CHANGED.

🎼blow a little whistle 🎼…………

CUTE PINOCCHIO SONG ABOUT DOING THE RIGHT THING. A WHISTLE BLOWER IS SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES THEY HAVE INFORMATION THE PUBLIC SHOULD KNOW BUT ITS BEING KEPT QUIET SO THEY GO TO THE MEDIA AND SPILL THE BEANS SO TO SPEAK. THERE IS A WHISTLE BLOWER IN AMERICA ABOUT THE PANDEMIC AND THE PRESIDENT IS FURIOUS. RICK BRIGHT HAS BEEN OUSTED FROM HIS JOB AFTER SAYING THAT BY RESTARTING THINGS TOO FAST AMERICA IS IN FOR A VERY DARK WINTER AND A MASSIVE RESURGENCE OF COVID-19.

we have no plan B………

THERE IS NO PLAN B, I READ THAT THIS MORNING IN THE DM. GOING AHEAD WITH PUBLIC TRANSPORT WHILE STILL SOCIAL DISTANCING YEP OK IN LONDON WHAT?? THE ARTICLE IN THE DM TALKING ABOUT THIS AND PIERS MORGAN INTERVIEW AND ARTICLE REGARDING LONDON MAYOR SADIQ KHAN IS SHOCKING. SUCH UTTER DISREGARD FOR HUMAN LIFE, I AM GOING TO HOLD MY TONGUE NOW.

I’m so bored …………

OH DEARIE ME, I BET MANY CHILDREN ARE SAYING THIS REPEATEDLY, THEIR PARENTS AND FAMILY FEEL THE SAME WAY. BEING ABLE TO GET OUTDOORS MORE NOW MIGHT HELP SOME OF THAT CABIN FEVER PEOPLE ARE EXPERIENCING.

“ we’re gonna need a bigger fence”

JAWS REFERENCE, WE ARE GONNA NEED A BIGGER BOAT 🦈. FENCES SHIELDING HAVE GONE UP AROUND THE MANSION WHERE DINO AND H ARE ALLEGEDLY LIVING THE HIGH LIFE. COVER IT ALL UP, SHE WANTS PRIVACY YET CONTINUES TO FAKE A LIFE WITH HARRY. GOOD HEAVENS HOW LONG CAN THIS GO ON??

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————-

17. May 15

MM ANON ……… a lovely surprise ……… sweet Charlotte ……… it’s teaching Jim, ……………”Harry, you know you’ll always have a place “……………”he’s not happy Catherine “ ……… R1………… re-train………… clubbings, clubbed…… Tea-CHING…………… “ yes, that’s a really good question”…………2 metres for ever???………… a rally in Calais. ………… GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧🌈🇨🇦

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MAY 15/20

RIDDLE #17

2145 HRS

a lovely surprise ………

YEP, KIDS, I AM GOING OUT ON A LIMB, YET AGAIN…I DO BELIEVE WE ARE GOING TO BE GETTING NEWS OF CAMBRIDGE 👶 BABY NUMBER FOUR IS ON THE WAY. THEY HAVE BEEN PREDICTING A BABY BOOM AS A RESULT OF THIS LOCKDOWN. THE DM HEADLINE OF AN ARTICLE TODAY SAYING A” GLOWING KATE MIDDLETON” AND WILLIAM AS THEY DO A VIDEOCALL TO A MENTAL HEALTH TEXT SERVICE ENTITLED, SHOUT. WHEN PEOPLE ARE EXPECTING, YES I AM OLD FASHIONED AND USE THAT WORD, ARE OFTEN SEEN AND KNOWN TO HAVE A GLOW ABOUT THEM. I KNOW PEOPLE DO NOT LIKE SPECULATIONS BUT I WOULD BE DELIGHTED.😊😊😊

sweet Charlotte ………

OUR SWEET HRH PRINCESS CHARLOTTE JUST CELEBRATED HER FIFTH BIRTHDAY ON MAY 2/2020. AS PER HER USUAL, CATHERINE TOOK THE MOST AMAZING PHOTOS , ESPECIALLY THE PORTRAIT, OH MY SHE IS SWEET AND BEAUTIFUL CHILD. SHE WILL BE A BEAUTY LIKE HER MUM AND A STRONG PERSONALITY LIKE HMTQ. THE LOVELY PHOTOS OF CHARLOTTE DELIVERING HOMEMADE PASTA TO THOSE IN NEED IN HER GREY RUFFLY DRESS, LOVELY. I HAD A RUFFLY DRESS LIKE THAT IN RED PLAID WITH A WHITE SAILOR TYPE COLLAR FOR CHRISTMAS WHEN I WAS IN JUNIOR HIGH, MAYBE , 12 YEARS OLD, OH I LOVED THAT DRESS!!

“it’s teaching Jim, ……………”

HERE OUR DEAR MM ANON IS BRINGING STAR TREK REFERENCE AGAIN, JIM, WAS CAPTAIN JAMES T KIRK, IN THE ORIGINAL STAR TREK TV SHOW. IT IS HARD TO FATHOM THE IMPACT AND SPAWN THAT SHOW HAS BROUGHT IN TV, FILMS, TECHNOLOGY AND IT ONLY RAN THREE SEASONS. REMARKABLE!

MADAM THINKS SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING AND CAN FAKE INTERRUPT A ZOOM MEETING IN A FAKE BACKGROUND. NO TEACHING IS USEFUL AND SHE IS BEYOND BEING RETAUGHT HOW TO TREAT PEOPLE

WHO IS JIM, IN THIS SCENARIO? WHAT IS BEING TAUGHT? LIFE LESSON PERHAPS? OR SOMETHING IS TEACHING JIM HIMSELF, AS THE CAPTAIN. I THINK THIS MIGHT JUST BE THE PROCESS OF REINTEGRATING HARRY, UNTANGLING HIS PUBLIC IMAGE/FAKE PERSONA THAT MADAM HAS CREATED.

“Harry, you know you’ll always have a place “……………”

I FEEL PRETTY CERTAIN THIS IS HMTQ TALKING WITH HARRY, PHONE, VIDEOLINK MORE LIKELY. SHE IS REASSURING HIM, HE ALWAYS HAS HIS FAMILY, HE IS A BLOOD PRINCE AND IT WILL TAKE TIME WITH SOME OF THE PUBLIC, HIS FAMILY IS ENCIRCLED WITH LOVE AROUND HIM. SO AM I AND MANY MANY HERE AND WORLDWIDE. HARRY JUST IGNORE THE HATERS 💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊😊HARRY😊😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜. KEEP DOING THE VIDEO MEETINGS….THE REAL ONES!!!…..NOT MADAMS FALSE MEDIA…..

HARRY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE IN OUR HEARTS ALWAYS. NEVER EVER GIVE UP ON YOU OR BELIEVE THE LIES THAT HAS BERN SPUN IN AN EVIL WEB QUITE LITERALLY ON THE WEB INTERNET AND THEN SPEWED ON SOCIAL MEDIA AND OTHER MEDIA.

“he’s not happy Catherine “ ………

WILLIAM IS SPEAKING WITH HIS WIFE. HE IS CONCERNED ABOUT HOW HIS DEAR BELOVED, YES BELOVED IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE WORDS💜💜💜, BROTHER IS HANDLING ALL THIS PR LIES, FAKE KABUKI MADAM IS DOING. . HE KNOWS AND IS UPDATED REGULARLY ON THE POISONOUS WRITINGS DONE BY PENS AND BY POISONOUS KEYBOARDS WRITING AND TYPING HIDEOUS LIES THAT ARE JUST BEYOND THE PALE. SEEKING ADVICE OR A LISTENING EAR. THEY ARE WITHOUT A DOUBT 100% SUPPORTIVE, LOVING AND WANTING THIS OVER. IT IS EXTREMELY HARD SEEING SOMEONE YOU LOVE SUFFER SO. THIS TRULY IS UNPRECEDENTED. 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻FOR ALL OF YOU IN OUR ROYAL FAMILY.

R1…………

I COULD SAY R1, A ONE WOMAN SHOW THAT HAS INFECTED THE ENTIRE ROYAL FAMILY, THE PUBLIC, THE COMMONWEALTH AND MORE. SHE IS 1, RACHEL=R1. THE CURE FOR THIS DESTRUCTIVE INVASION IS JUSTICE……AND IT IS COMING I HAVE NO DOUBT. ⚖️

AS THIS REGARDS TO COVID-19 AND THE PROCESS OF UNLOCKDOWN. THESE THINGS ARE ALL SO VERY COMPLEX.

IN TRACKING EPIDEMIC STATISTICS IS KEY. R0, IS USED TO MEASURE THE POTENTIAL TRANSMISSION OF A VIRUS, DISEASE ETC.

“In epidemiology, the basic reproduction value describes the average number of people an individual can expect to infect.

It is called the reproductive value, or “R0 ” - pronounced ‘R nought' or ‘R zero’. The measure is used to track how many people, on average, will be infected for every one person who has the disease.

The number is not fixed. It can be altered by a range of factors, including behaviour, which is why countries around the world have imposed stringent social distancing measures. It’s not rocket science - keeping people away from one another obviously makes a huge difference to the potential infection rate.”

I WOULD SUGGEST THIS RESOURCE I RESEARCHED …

https://www.healthknowledge.org.uk/public-health-textbook/research-methods/1a-epidemiology/epidemic-theory

THESE ARE ALL KEY TO THE UNLOCKDOWNING, OF THE U.K., YES I MADE ANOTHER NEW WORD OH MY IT HAS DOWNING IN IT!!! 😁😁

re-train…………

FIRST STARTED AS A LOW DRUMBEAT, METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING , NOW IT IS BEING SAID OUTRIGHT. WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE NEW NORMAL, MANY JOBS WILL NO LONGER EXIST. SO MANY THINGS HAVE AND WILL CONTINUE TO CHANGE.

TO RE-TRAIN IS TO LEARN A NEW TRADE OR EDUCATION FOR A DIFFERENT FIELD OF WORK. MANY MILLIONS WILL BE FACING THIS AFTER THE HORRENDOUS PANDEMIC CRISIS HAS STABILIZED.

I DO THINK THIS HAS ANOTHER MEANING REGARDING THE RAILROAD , SO VERY MANY FURLOUGHS THERE☹️☹️, AND OTHER PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION MEANS. I CANNOT RECALL THE NUMBER BUT ITS MASSIVE THE LOSS IN REVENUE OF THE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION IN LONDON ALONE. THE ECONOMIC IMPACT, I DO NOT THINK OUR IMAGINATIONS CAN FULLY GRASP YET HOW THINGS WILL BE. RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO BE KIND, BE CALM , SUPPORT ONE ANOTHER AND CARRY ON, ONE DAY AT A TIME AS THE CRISTY LANE SONG GOES. ONE DAY AT A TIME SWEET JESUS🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻.

clubbings, clubbed……

CRAZY PARTIERS ITS MADNESS DRINKING DANCING AS IF THINGS WERE JUST USUAL. BEACHING, PARTYING. NON COMPLIANCE WITH REGULATIONS HAS LED TO MANY FINES ETC. DEALING WITH IMPAIRED PEOPLE I HAVE NO DOUBT SONE OFFICERS GOT CLUBBED LITERALLY. LOCKDOWN, CLUBS CLOSED, CLUBBED CLOSED QUITE LITERALLY.

Tea-CHING……………

OH YES MADAM ALLEGEDLY CRASHED A ZOOM MEETING WITH “H” OF A TEACHERS UNION, WAIT, OH NO IT WAS A MENTAL HEALTH CHARITY, WITH A GUY WITH A TWITTER NO PAGE FOUND.

WHEN YOU HEAR THE WORDS CHA-CHING IT MEANS MONEY. PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME SHE IS EARNING MONEY BY GIVING LECTURES ONLINE USING HER WORD 🥗 SALAD. AS I SAID YESTERDAY OR DAY BEFSHE IS SKILLED AT ALL THINGS A REAL RACHEL OF ALL TRADES, LITERALLY ALL TRADES🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂.

I KNOW FERGIE, SARAH FERGUSON WAS SELLING PRETTY TEAS. HAS MADAM COPIED SOMEONE, YET AGAIN, AND IS BRINGING OUT TEA FOR SAKE?

OR IS IT THE HORRIBLE EUPHEMISM I SO DETEST, AND NO CLUE WHERE IT CAME FROM BUT I WISH IT WOULD GO AWAY. THE PEJORATIVE USE OF THE WORD ‘TEA’ BEING USED AS GOSSIP. YES IF SHE SELLS HER JUICY SECRET DIARY SHE KEPT, AND A TELL ALL BOOK, THE SUGARS WILL BUY IT FOR SURE BUT WILL ANYONE ELSE? I DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH CHING SHE WILL GET FROM HER CUP OF TEA. I AM CERTAIN IT WILL BE EMBARGOED IN THE U.K. IF IT IS PRINTED IN AMERICA.

REMEMBER WAY BACK LAST YEAR MADAM MADE THAT QUICK WEEKEND TO NYC TO WATCH HER BESTIE LOSE THE U.S OPEN, WHEN THEY TOLD HER NOT TO COME? I CLEARLY RECALL A CLUE IN THE RIDDLE AND IT WAS ABOUT HER MEETING WITH A BOOK PUBLISHING HOUSE THAT WEEKEND TOO.

“ yes, that’s a really good question”…………

WHEN WILL ALL THIS END? WHEN WILL MADAM FACE JUSTICE? WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN HER MOS LAWSUIT? WHEN CAN HARRY BE PUBLICLY REUNITED AND GET HIS REPUTATION BACK AND THE LOVE IF EVERYONE AGAIN.

WHEN WILL COVID STOP? WHEN WILL THERE BE A VACCINE? HOW WILL THE LOCKDOWN END, HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE?

I COULD CONTINUE WITH MANY MORE BUT YOU KIDS GET THE JIST.

2 metres for ever???…………

THE EXPERTS IN INFECTIOUS DISEASES, EPIDEMIOLOGY, ER PHYSICIANS, VARIOUS PROFESSIONALS ALL CONCUR THIS VIRUS IS A MYSTERY. WHY IT IS SO AGGRESSIVE IN CERTAIN AREAS BUT NOT OTHERS. THEY HAVE YET TO FIND SOUND SCIENCE DATE TO EXPLAIN THIS. THE WHO, WORLD GEALTH ORGANIZATION, ALONG WITH OTHERS ARE SAYING THIS IS A MARATHON JUST BEGINNING. THIS VIRUS WILL LIKELY REMAIN WITH US. THEY ARE HOPING FOR WHAT IS CALLED HERD IMMUNITY. I KNOW IT SOUNDS ODD BUT IT COMES FROM AGRICULTURE, IN DISEASES AMONG THE HERD, THEY DEVELOP AN IMMUNITY TO AN EXISTING AND PRESENT VIRUS. HOWEVER IN HUMANS BEINGS , THIS WILL REQUIRE EXTENSIVE TESTING,

DR. TAM, OUR🇨🇦, CHIEF MEDICAL HEALTH OFFICER FOR OUR COUNTRY ANNOUNCED A TWO YEAR STUDY. THEY WILL BE TESTING SEROLOGY OF A MILLION I THINK THAT IS THE NUMBER, AND WILL MONITOR FOR PRESENCE OF ANTIBODIES, IF THEY EXIST, IF THEY CHANGE OVERTIME OR VANISH. THIS WILL BE KEY IN KNOWING HOW MANY ANTIBODIES ARE NEEDED TO MAKE ONE IMMUNE, AND HOW LONG THE IMMUNITY LASTS. ITS ALL VERY FASCINATING TO ME.

SO, AS USUAL WITH ME YOU GET DINNER AND A SHOW WITH EACH CLUE, THE QUESTION HAS SERIOUSLY BEEN RAISED IS SOCIAL/PHYSICAL DISTANCING OF WHICH 2 METRES IS THE DISTANCE, GOING TO CONTINUE TO BE A PERMANENT PART OF LIFE AS WE KNOW IT. THAT IS A VERY DIFFICULT CHANGE IN OUR LIVES FOR SURE.

a rally in Calais. …………

THE LITTLE SHIP CLUB IS A BOAT/YACHTING CLUB IN LONDON. THEY HAVE REGULAR REGATTAS ETC. THE ORIGINAL CLUB WAS FOUNDED WAY BACK IN 1926, TO CONNECT OVER LECTURES AND TEACHING ON YACHTING!! REAL YACHTING. IT HAS ITS BUILDING CALLED THE CLUBHOUSE, AT BELL WHARF, RIGHT ON THE THAMES, THE ONKY ONE IN LONDON.

THEY HOLD AN ANNUAL MAY REGATTA OR RALLY, HOWEVER IT IS CANCELLED DUE TO, YOU KNOW IT, THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC.

SO WE HAVE YACHTING REFERENCE HERE. WE ALL KNOW SOMEONE WHO HAS EXTENSIVE, AND I MEAN E X T E N S I V E😂😂😂😂🤣🤣YACHTING EXPERIENCE. SO CANCELLED HMMMMMM……NO LONGER UP TO RALLYING AND YACHTING AT 43? I THINK NORMAL YACHTING 43 IS PERFECT. HOWEVER THE OTHER KIND OF YACHTING….43….NOT SO MUCH CHA CHING IN THAT(REFERENCE TO OTHER CLUE).

GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧🌈🇨🇦

GSTQAOBC IS MY THINGY I ALWAYS ADD, AT THE END OF MOST OF MY NOTES, POSTS ETC. IT MEANS, “GOD SAVE THE QUEEN AND OUR BELOVED COMMONWEALTH”.

HERE IS , GOD BLESS HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN AND OUR GORGEOUS COMMONWEALTH. OR GRATEFUL, ANOTHER G WORD PERHAPS.

IF I MAY BE SO BOLD, THERE IS A RAINBOW , WHICH IS A COVENANT, BETWEEN THE U.K. AND CANADA. WE ARE VERY MUCH A COMMONWEALTH COUNTRY. HMTQ IS A PART OF EVERY SINGLE THING IN 🇨🇦. PROVINCES AND TERRITORIES HAVE HMTQ OFFICIAL REPRESENTATIVE, THE LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR. WE PRONOUNCE LIEUTENANT, LEFFTENANT IN CANADA. THE COUNTRY HAS A GOVERNOR GENERAL WHO IS HMTQ REPRESENTATIVE TO OUR ENTIRE COUNTRY. ANY LEGISLATION, PROVINCIAL AND FEDERAL IS SIGNED OFF BY THEM. HMTQ IS ON THE MONEY ETC ETC.

I THINK MM ANON IS REFERRING TO THE WONDERFUL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN US. I AM EXTENDING FURTHER, THE WONDERFUL CONNECTION AND TRUTH SEEKING THAT OUR BELOVED💜💜🐼💜💜 HAS COMMITTED TO AND THOSE WHO ARE HERE COMMITTED TO IT AS WELL. I CAN ASSURE YOU, LIFE SITUATIONS MAY HAPPEN, BUT WE WILL NEVER BREAK OUT OATHS AND RESOLVE FOR TRUTH, JUSTICE AND OUR HARRY BACK, RIGHT WHERE HE BELONGS PUBLICLY. 💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

18. May 16

MM ANON …… “ I’m keeping my tennis shoes on”……… “I’m not getting out of bed for less than 3mill” …… cold nose undercover ………… a learning yearning ………… “friends thou hast, and there adoption tried “…… …… 🎼ya gotta give a little 🎼……………… “I’m not happy about them returning William “ …………… “ One needs ones hair attended too”………… “ I’ll bloody cut it myself !!”……… “ I know!! … SYDNEY!!”

Thank you…😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MAY 16/2020

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #18

1400 HRS

“ I’m keeping my tennis shoes on”………

CHARLOTTE TAKING TENNIS LESSONS WITH CATHERINE AT QUEENS TENNIS 🎾 CLUB. CHARLOTTE WANTS TO KEEP HER REGULAR SHOES ON, USUALLY WITH TENNIS YOU PROTECT THE GREENS WITH TENNIS SHOES. A BATTLE OF WILLS MIGHT ENSUE🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

“I’m not getting out of bed for less than 3mill”

THE VERY FIRST MODEL TO USE THE TITLE WAS 🇨🇦CANADIAN LINDA EVANGELISTA. SHE WAS FAMOUS FOR SAYING THE ABOVE SAYING EXCEPT I THINK IT WAS $100,000.00. SO MADAM IS REFUSING MINUSCULE OFFERS AND HAS SET THE LOWEST AT THREE MILLION. GOOD LUCK RACHEL!

…… cold nose undercover …………

I READ COLD NOSE I THINK IF A DOGGY OR ANY WINTER MORNING. UNDERCOVER IS IN BED OR A DETECTIVE TRYING TO BLEND IN TO GET EVIDENCE. I AM GOING TO BE CUTE AND SAY HARRY IS GETTING ALOT OF COMFORT FROM HIS DOG AND THEY SLEEP TOGETHER AS MOST DOGS DO. WAKENS HARRY WITH HIS COLD NOSE.

AS I HAVE SAID FOR FOREVER NOW, HARRY HAS BEEN OVERTLY COVERT WITH MADAM , GATHERING ANY AND ALL EVIDENCE HE CAN.SOMETIMES LAW ENFORCEMENT USE A STING OPERATION TO CATCH SOMEONE IN A CRIMINAL ACT. NOT SURE HOW THE LAWS APPLY HERE.

a learning yearning …………

WE ARE LEARNING OUR WORLD WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. I KNOW LONDON SCOOP COULD NOT HAVE KNOWN ABOUT COVID , BUT IF YOU READ HER WORDS, ITS EERILY THEY APPLY.TOTALLY SEE THE WORLD DIFFERENTLY, LEARNING WHOLE NEW WAYS OF DOING THINGS UNDER LOCKDOWN. THE FUTURE WILL BRING MORE CHANGE, WE CANNOT FATHOM IT ALL JUST NOW. WE YEARN FOR A WORLD WE HAD, SO MANY IF US TOOK FOR GRANTED, THINGS CHANGED ON A DIME.

“friends thou hast, and there adoption tried “……

I LOVE THIS SOO MUCH, BACK TO THE BARD. I SHALL ENDEAVOUR TO BE LESS WORDY. THIS IS FROM HAMLET. TO BE CORRECT IT IS” FRIENDS THOU HAST, AND THEIR ADOPTION TRIED. BASICALLY KEEP CLOSE THOSE YOU LOVE AND TRUST, CHERISH THEM, NEVER TAKE FOR GRANTED. HARRY HAS LONG TERM FRIENDS WHOM I BELIEVE ARE HELPING HIM GET THROUGH THESE TOUGH DAYS.

UNDOUBTEDLY HERE WITH THE WORD ADOPTION WE ARE REFERENCING ARCHIE. SO AT WHAT POINT IS THE TRUTH COMING OUT, IF AT ALL? WE HAVE ASKED MANY TIMES HOW WILL THEY DEAL WITH THIS ISSUE. ONLY THE FUTURE WILL TELL.

🎼ya gotta give a little 🎼………………

I LOVE DEANO, SMOOTH VOICE, DEAN MARTIN GLORY OF LOVE. ALL ABOUT GIVE A LITTLE, COMPROMISE, RELATIONSHIPS BRING TEARS, JOYS, FIGHTS, COMPROMISE IS THE KEY. TRULY IS THE KEY TO ALL THINGS IN LIFE IF YOU WANT TO HAVE MEANINGFUL CONNECTIONS WITH OTHER PEOPLE.

“I’m not happy about them returning William “

AS WITH MANY MILLIONS OF PARENTS, CATHERINE HAS GREAT TREPIDATION AND WORRY ABOUT SENDING THE LITTLE ONES BACK TO SCHOOL.

“ One needs ones hair attended too”………… “ I’ll bloody cut it myself !!”……… “ I know!! … SYDNEY!!”

HERE WE HAVE A SCENE FOR THE AGES. EVERYONE DEALING WITH ROOTS CO,ING OUT, NEEDING COLOURING OR HIGHLIGHTS DONE. GO ON YOUTUBE FOR HORRIBLE LOCKDOWN HAIRUTS😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. SO HIMSELF IS WANTING HIS HAIR CUT AND IS MORE THAN EAGER TO TAKE ON THE JOB. HMTQ IS BRINGING UP THE SUBJECT. AGAIN POOR SYDNEY IS CRIED OUT FOR. I THINK THIS IS BRILLIANT.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you…😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*entertainment purposes

—————-

19. May 17

MM ANON …… a Diamond evaluator ……… Of no consequence whatsoever ……… straight to credits. ………… LA Confidential ………… 🎼no sir I don’t mean maybe 🎼…………… 🎼Don’t fence me in🎼…………… “ I want Adele you a story “……………… The man from U.N.C.L.E. Harry …………… “ ones lockdown sucks” ………… “ miserable without Boddys old thing “ …………… “Sydney’s slacking “.

Thank you 😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

May 17/2020

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MMANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

RIDDLE #20

a Diamond evaluator ………

MADAM HAS WORN SO MUCH FAKE JEWELRY DURING HER TIME AS A ‘MEMBER’ OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. MOST ASSUME IT IS REAL. I WONDER IF THE IRS HAS HIRED A GEMOLOGIST TO ASSESS THE VALUE OF HER PIECES IN PART OF DETERMINING HOW MUCH TAX SHE OWES. WONT THE BE DISAPPOINTED😫😫🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

Of no consequence whatsoever ………

IN THE LONG RUN AND HISTORICALLY NATURE OF THE ROYAL FAMILY, MADAM IS BUT A VERY SMALL BLIP ON THE RADAR. HER FUTURE IS SEALED BY HER OWN CHOICES AND MISBEHAVIOUR.

straight to credits. …………

MADAMS FILM ROLES, THE PHRASE STRAIGHT TO CREDITS IS OFTEN USED WHEN THE ACTING OR THE STORY IS HORRENDOUS. EVEN VOICEOVER WORK IS HORRENDOUS. THIS MAY ALSO REFER TO ANY FILMS IF AN ADULT NATURE THAT IS IN NEGOTIATION AND THE POWERS THAT BE WANT TO KNOW THOSE RESPONSIBLE.

LA Confidential …………

GREAT FILM NOIR FILM BUT DONE IN THE 1990’s. LOTS OF MURDER AND MAYHEM.

LOTS OF STUFF KEPT QUIET IN HOLLYWOOD. WITH THE #METOO MOVEMENT LOTS HAS CHANGED. I WONDER IF MADAM HAS SOMETHING ON SOMEONE. GIVEN HER LOST YEARS I CANNOT FATHOM WHAT SHE ALL KNOW ABOUT THE HIGH ROLLERS AND VERY WEALTHY MEN.

🎼no sir I don’t mean maybe 🎼……………

YES SIR THATS MY BABY NO SIR DONT MEAN MAYBE YES SIR THATS MY BABY NOW….SONG FROM OLD HOLLYWOOD FILMS..MY WHEELHOUSE….WHEN FILMS WERE FILMS. WE ARRIVE AT ARCHIE…WILL THE REAL DNA COME OUT FINALLY AND I DOUBT WE WILL FIND OUT WHERE THE BABY IS ETC THE PRESS WOUKD FOREVER HAUNT AND HUNT THIS CHILD.

🎼Don’t fence me in🎼……………

ANOTHER GREAT OLD SONG, MADAM DOES NOT WANT TO BE CONTROLLED IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. WELL I SUSPECT BEFORE TOO LONG THINGS WILL CHANGE DRASTICALLY IN TERMS OF WHO CONTROLS HER IF CHARGES. ARE FILED AND ALSO THAT PESKY MOS LAWSUIT SHE FILED. ESPECIALLY NO INCARCERATION NO ORANGE JUMPSUIT.

“ I want Adele you a story “………………

THIS IS YET ANOTHER MYSTERY, WILL THE REAL ADELE STAND UP PLEASE. SHE IS UNRECOGNIZABLE. SHE IS A FAMOUS BRITISH MUSICIAN BEAUTIFUL CURVY WOMAN. LAST WEEK SHE POSTED INSTAGRAM PHOTOS, NO MENTION OF SURGERY OR ANYTHING BUT SHE LOOKS NOTHING LIKE HERSELF. OUT OF THE BLUE TWICE NOW SHE HAS PUBLICLY COME OUT IN SUPPORT OF THE SUSSEXES. ODD, NOTHING BEFORE NOW, WHY IS THAT AND WHY NOW? TRULY A MYSTERY INDEED. ALL THIS HOLLYWOOD STUFF WE SURE HAVE HAD OUR EYES OPENED TO ALL THE PR LIES.

The man from U.N.C.L.E. Harry ……………

MINUS THE HARRY THIS WAS AN OLD SPY TV SHOW. A LONG LONG TIME AGO WE HAD A RIDDLE CLUE THAT AN UNCLE WAS HELPING A NEPHEW WITH SEEKING COURT ASSISTANCE. SOME AT THE TIME IT WAS REGARDING THE LIES ABOUT THE MARQUIS AND MARCHIONESS OF CHOMONDELEY, THE RUMOURS MADAM ALLEGEDLY STARTED ABOUT WILLIAM AND ROSE. NOW ARE WE SUSPECTING PRINCE ANDREW WAS A BRITISH SPY WHILE HIS TIME WITH THE LATE JE?? HE WAS THE BRITISH TRADE ENVOY AT THAT TIME MAKES SENSE.

IT ALSO MAKES TOTAL SENSE FOR HARRY DOING THE SAME DURING HIS TIME WITH MADAM, INTEL GATHERING.

“ ones lockdown sucks” ………… “ miserable without Boddys old thing “ …………… “Sydney’s slacking “.

HMTQ IS TIRING OF LOCKDOWN, ALTHOUGH I CANNOT QUITE PICTURE HER USING THE WORDS SUCKS BUT IT IS TRUE. WE ARE ALL FEELING THE EFFECTS. SOUNDS LIKE THEY HAVE RUN OUT OF BODDINGTONS AND HIMSELF IS NOT ONE BIT PLEASED ABOUT THAT. AGAIN POOR SUDNEY GETS THE BLAME.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you 😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————-

1 note · View note

asoulofstars · 5 years ago

Text

Familiarity (S5)

Here we have Riona and the CBI confronting the man who killed Riona’s little brother, Soll, back when Riona was 12 and Soll was 8. This case had been cold for 20+ years, and Jane made a promise to Riona that he would help her find closure. Neither of them expected it to be like this.

Massive trigger warnings for torture, death, knife injuries, mutilation, car accident, broken bones, etc. While I don’t actually go into detail of any of the events besides the death, all the other stuff is mentioned and the results of such things are observed.

Switches back and forth between Riona’s POV and Jane’s POV. Takes place between 5x04 and 5x06. This fanfic is almost 8,000 words, so please enjoy.

Spoilers for the Season 4 finale and pieces of early Season 5 are present.

Break

“Riona! Are you at home or at CBI?” Jane said into the phone.

“Home. I was sleeping. Jane, what time is it?” she asked, yawning.

“Does it matter, Riona? I have a name!” he replied. “I know who killed Soll!”

Riona sat bolt upright. “What?” Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she nearly dropped her phone.

Freyja meowed loudly at her as she threw the blankets aside and stumbled to her closet, putting on the first things she touched. Her wardrobe was fairly consistent, though, so it didn’t really matter what she grabbed.

“I’ll be at your place in five minutes. We’ll discuss more in person,” Jane told her.

“Okay. Okay, good. Patrick, thank you.” Riona nearly choked as it all overwhelmed her.

“Who better to assist than a man who’s been obsessed with his own serial killer for a decade?” He chuckled. “I’ll honk when I’m here.”

“Don’t bother; I’ll be in the driveway.” Riona hung up her phone, put on her coat, grabbed her purse, and headed out, locking up the door.

She had never been so happy when his Citroen pulled up into the drive, and she jumped into the passenger side. She looked at him, and he beamed.

“Warren Andrews,” he said. “Those six months that I was off having my breakdown was not just about fooling Red John. I did a lot of digging into your case.”

“You did?” Riona asked, turned towards him as much as the seatbelt allowed.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly be digging into Red John while making him think that I’d given up. So, when I wasn’t drinking or borrowing money and running from loan sharks, I was researching. You’d be amazed at what you can find out at a blackjack table.” He grinned. “There are a lot of cops who are willing to talk about their work, especially to a man with a high rate of closed cases. They want new leads, and I was able to get information from a lot of different jurisdictions that wouldn’t have shared leads if it hadn’t been for me.”

“How were you able to connect things?” Riona asked.

“A knife wound that damages the hyoid and cervical vertebrae, boys 7-9, dark hair, cold cases. Predators are particular. Soll was lucky he cried out for you.” He put a hand on her knee.

Riona wrapped her fingers up in his. She always assumed the worst. How could she not? Who else would kill an eight-year-old boy? He squeezed her hand tight.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course. I’ve got more information back at CBI. We can look at it together, narrow down his location. We can get the team together to figure everything out and bring him in.”

He came to a stop at a four-way intersection, and then he made his way forward. Just as they moved through, a car smashed into the driver’s side of the Citroen. Riona heard Jane’s arm snap with the same echo as a gunshot. The airbags went off, and Riona screamed.

“Ri, you okay?” Jane groaned.

“Your arm. You need a hospital.” She pulled her phone out and dialed 911.

Before she could say anything, she was yanked out of the car. She screamed, and she heard Jane yelling for her.

~*~

Jane grabbed the phone that had clattered to the floor, and he groaned.

“Sir, I heard yelling. What happened?” the dispatcher asked.

“We were in a car accident. Riona…Riona was taken. My arm is broken.” He groaned again; his head hurt.

He really needed to stop getting his head bashed around.

“Sir, officers were dispatched when I didn’t get a response. They’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. Okay. I…I think I’m going to pass out.” Jane leaned against the seat, and his eyes closed.

~*~

He woke up with Lisbon beside him. He swallowed hard, and he turned his head.

“Where’s Riona?” he asked.

“We don’t know,” she replied. “Van Pelt’s trying to get security footage—traffic cams…anything—to see what car took her and where they went.”

“It has to do with the man who killed her brother. His name is Warren Andrews. I did a lot of digging into him when I was pretending to have a breakdown. And I found him, Lisbon. And I finally got his name, and I went to pick her up, and he must have found us. You know I’m good at picking up a tail. You know how careful I am. But he found us. He found her. And, Lisbon, he’s going to hurt her.”

“We’ll find her. I promise, Jane.” Lisbon took his hand. “But you have to do as the doctor says. Your arm and a couple ribs are broken, and you have a concussion.”

“Lisbon, let me come back to CBI with you. I can’t just sit in here. I have to help.” He didn’t want to pull out words like please or using her first name, but he would if he had to. He wasn’t one to beg, but Andrews found her because of him.

“If your doctor says that you can leave, I’ll let you come back with me,” she said. “Otherwise, I’ll have Van Pelt come here with a laptop so that she can keep you in the loop while you rest.”

“I want out, Lisbon. I can’t stay here. I can’t think in a hospital room.” He pushed himself upright with his right arm.

“I’ll talk to the doctor,” she said. “Don’t move.”

“Okay.” He tried to breathe slowly, feeling his ribs stab at him.

He knew that he was pushing it with trying to get out of the hospital. He was surprised Lisbon hadn’t tried to order an MRI for him with as many times as he’d been concussed now. But he also knew that he would be of no use in a sterile, bright room with only his thoughts for company. Even if Grace came to sit with him, he’d go insane staying in the hospital.

“Mr. Jane, Agent Lisbon has asked that we release you.” His doctor stood with hands on her hips.

“I would appreciate that,” he replied. “I have things to do that I can’t do in a place like this. The walls are closing in on me. I will not do anything strenuous. I will take it easy. I promise. I just can’t stay here.”

“Alright, Mr. Jane. But if you have any problems at all, you have to come back immediately.”

“I promise. Thank you. Lisbon, can I have a moment to change?”

“Yes. I’ll be right outside.” She gave him a pointed look that told him not to do anything stupid.

As if he could do anything. His left arm was in a cast and a sling; his ribs were taped and moving at all hurt. But he couldn’t stay in the hospital. He had to be with the team, figuring things out. And he would be able to help them make sense of his research a whole lot better and faster in person.

~*~

“What have you got?” Lisbon asked as they walked in.

Jane was proud of himself for staying upright without Lisbon’s assistance, and he waved off Grace’s concern when her eyes widened in response to his arm. He moved to his couch, waiting with bated breath to hear what her security camera search had given them.

“Not a lot. It’s a dark van, tinted windows, no plates. It starts off heading back towards Riona’s house, and then it vanishes.”

“Okay. Grace, upstairs in my loft, there’s a box under my bed. It just says SG on it; it’s not an evidence box as it’s not an official CBI case. Until now.” He gestured to his arm. “I would grab it, but.”

“No, I got it. You need to rest. You shouldn’t even be here.” She eyed him pointedly.

Sometimes the concern that radiated from Grace, the way that she looked at him, how she felt the need to protect him…all of it made him forget that he was at least ten years older than her. She cared, and it was a trait he admired her for. It was part of what made it easy to accept her, when it had taken him a while to warm up to others on the team.

“She’s family,” he said quietly.

He’d tried to deny it for so long. But somewhere in the years since he started at CBI, between late night discussions over tea and companionable silence while she worked in the morgue (and he had nothing better to do and was there anyways), things had turned into her inviting him to her place so that he could get some real sleep. She swore up and down he was magic when all he had to do was kneel down to Freyja before the cat purred at him and climbed into his arms. Even though he had weird dreams because the cat was at least twenty pounds and enjoyed sleeping on his chest, he always did sleep the best when he was over at her place. Even though she was optimistic and genuine where he was skeptical, cynical, and distant, she understood him in a way that no one else had ever been able to. Losing someone you love to a serial killer changed you as a person, and she knew that. She accepted that his methods were how he had to find his closure, to find his own sense of peace for Angela and Charlotte, and she refrained from judging him for his relentless hunt for Red John. Because she’d been quietly doing the same for years, just trying to find a name. He remembered the first time she told him about Soll, after she’d done Rebecca’s autopsy, and he was stunned. It had been clear as day to him that she faced tragedy when she was young, that she’d been abused, but he never realized how she actually did know all that time what he was going through. He asked why she kept it to herself, and she told him that he didn’t need to think about her closure on top of his. But what was the point of working at CBI and working on cases that weren’t Red John if he couldn’t help people like her? And if Warren Andrews killed her, if he wasn’t fast enough to save her, then it would all be for nothing.

“I have to be here,” he said simply.

Grace nodded, and he knew that she understood the way his chest felt like it was collapsing—and not just because he couldn’t take a full breath with his broken ribs. He could see the way that Grace’s fingers shook as she moved them over her keyboard, the way she stared at the screen for so long and only blinked when he assumed the information blurred together in an effort to keep herself from crying. Riona wasn’t even officially a part of this unit, this team, but she was a constant, a pulse for CBI.

“Can I help?” Grace asked, voice cracking, as she set the box by his feet.

“By all means,” he replied.

He watched as she dutifully sorted his notes and files, and how the rest of the team slowly came and joined her on the floor. Every so often, someone would get up to make a coffee run for the group, and Grace brought him some of his tea. He kept staring at the piles, hoping his brain would make some connection. The man had to be local; it had to be somewhere private. Moving back towards Riona’s house had to be a misdirect.

He swallowed hard. “Can you spread a map out?”

“Yeah.” Grace pulled out their Sacramento map.

Jane pointed to Riona’s street. “Here’s her house.” He found the intersection. “That’s where the crash happened.”

Grace marked the two points. Jane started scanning the map, trying to find the best way to where backtracking towards Riona’s house would then redirect to a location. He scanned the map, and he found CBI. He tapped his finger on it, and Grace put down another mark.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’m trying to figure out if he followed me, or if he was watching her.” Jane sighed and rubbed his eyes. “He had to be watching her; I just got there before he made his move. But that still doesn’t tell me if his location is closer to her house or closer to CBI; I don’t know if he was backtracking to throw us off his trail or if his location is actually in that direction. He knew we were heading back to CBI; he had to have followed her route between the two places, and I didn’t pick up a tail, because he already knew how to use side streets to get to that intersection at the same time as us.” He stared at the map again. “Let me just….” He trailed off, gesturing to the map with his good hand.

Grace put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get her back.”

He reached up and squeezed her hand. He flashed her a small smile, and he tried to lend her some of the comfort she was also trying to give him. Just because he was guilty didn’t mean he was the only one who cared about Riona or wanted her back. But he was now left with more questions than answers. If Andrews wasn’t tracking him to get to Riona, how did he know that they were close? His hand drifted to his pocket.

“Can someone drive me to Riona’s? I need to figure out how he knew she was there.” He looked around.

“Van Pelt, go with him,” Lisbon said. “Rigsby, Cho, keep looking into Warren Andrews and any known associates. Jane, is this all your research into the case?” She gestured to the box and piles now sorted over the floor.

Jane nodded.

“Good. I’ll go through this some more and see what I can get from the police you have reports from. Senior Special Agent will help with cooperation.”

Jane watched her eyes as she let out a slow breath through her nose. She was worried, and he didn’t like it when she worried.

“Be careful, and don’t give Van Pelt any trouble,” she warned.

“I promise,” he replied and turned to Grace. “After you.”

She wrapped her arm around his good one, and he couldn’t help the small smile that formed in response. He pressed into her, knowing that they both needed the contact. He took a breath and swallowed hard, and he let her lead the way to the car.

The ride there was quiet, and Jane watched Grace. She kept fidgeting with her fingers, and Jane watched as she focused on her right ring finger. The finger that Riona wore her Claddagh Ring on.

“How long have you had feelings for Riona?” he asked quietly.

“For years.” She shifted. “It took a long time to come to terms with it. My family was fairly conservative growing up. So it took a long time to accept that my feelings for her were more than platonic.” She swallowed. “I’ve looked at other women before, but I never gave it much thought. Looking at people is human nature, and to me looking doesn’t really mean anything. But having feelings means a lot. And, well, I know you don’t have romantic feelings for her, but there’s just something about Riona that makes it impossible to not have feelings of some kind for her.”

Jane nodded. “I know.”

“It was that day you took us both out to the racetrack. Craig and I had just started dating, and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I threw myself into my relationship with him. And we both know how that turned out.” She let out a deep breath. “Do I really have that bad of luck with my relationships?”

Jane shifted his jaw back and forth, thinking on all of Grace’s relationships since he’d met her. Dan, the sociopath who tried to kill them. Rigsby, who he wasn’t sure would ever get over Grace. Craig, who was working for Red John and she had to shoot and kill. And then there were her—what she thought were unrequited—feelings for Riona. And Jane knew that they were anything but; he’d been teasing Riona about her feelings for Grace when Grace was dating Rigsby.

“You can say it,” she said.

“Well, I can’t include Riona in anything. You two will need to talk yourselves when we get her back.” He needed to be confident. If they lost her, it would be one more death on his hands, and one more serial killer he would have to hunt down.

“Thanks,” she replied.

Jane wanted to say more, but it was hard enough to focus on the current task. They pulled into Riona’s driveway, and Jane unlocked the door with his tool he kept in his pocket. He heard a loud mreow, and then Freyja was on her hind legs, paws at his hips.

“Hey, Pretty Kitty. I can’t really pick you up.” He gestured to his left arm.

She huffed at him, and she went over to Grace, winding her way around Grace’s legs. Jane watched as Grace knelt down and ran her fingers through Freyja’s fur.

“We should bring her back to CBI with us,” she said. “She’ll be upset and lonely.”

“Yeah,” Jane agreed. “She can stay in my loft.”

Jane looked around the house, watching the windows, the doors, the way the cat moved. He looked at the cat again. No, Freyja wasn’t allowed outside except when Riona was out, and Freyja was too loyal to stray from Riona’s side. Plus, Riona had gotten someone to build her a beautiful inside…kingdom…was the best way to describe it. Freyja was a spoiled cat. She got the stimulation that she needed without spending too much time outside. That cat never left Riona’s side. Freyja wasn’t the way in.

The windows and doors were all secure, besides the front door that he picked the lock on. No other signs of forced entry were present, and he couldn’t find any signs of cameras. Grace pulled out a laptop, and he watched as she did her own bug sweep. She shook her head, and he nodded.

“He’s old fashioned, personal. We need to check the yard, check her garden, see where he could have been watching her from.” Jane went to the back of the house, heading out the slider into her backyard.

Jane walked the garden, smiling at Riona’s flowers. Morning glories, galaxy petunias, roses; all of them had multiple colors. She had a vegetable garden and some berry bushes. He walked around, noting Riona’s footsteps in the dirt. The marks from her knees when she pressed into the dirt. He walked the property line. She had a bunch of trees lining her property, and he swallowed hard.

“What is it?” Grace asked, putting her hand on his arm.

“The trees. She’s got a fence line; the trees block the view of the fence in the back, so he could hop it without being noticed. Hiding in the trees, he learned everything he needed to about her patterns. She doesn’t have the same instinct to look for a tail, and he’s smart enough to not be following right behind her in some big truck like creepy guys, so he didn’t trigger that instinct that women have.” Jane pushed into the tree line. “Yep. Look at all these footprints.”

“So how did he know you were close? Why take her now?” Grace asked.

“I think he was always planning on taking her,” Jane replied. “She’s been digging. She went into law enforcement. That’s why he didn’t just kill me. He didn’t know I was involved. I just happened to be driving Riona the night he finally wanted to make his move, so he had to go through me.”

Grace nodded. “Okay, so where does that leave us?”

“That leaves us knowing that this is all about her. So, get me back to CBI, and I can really focus on the map.”

Grace wrapped her arm around his and leaned into him as they moved back inside. Freyja meowed at them, and Grace released his arm to pick up the cat.

“You want to go for a ride?” she asked. “Come on, Pretty Kitty. We’ll go play at CBI until Riona comes home.”

Grace let him get in the car first, and then she put Freyja in his lap. Freyja purred loudly at him and nuzzled his chest. Jane ran his fingers through the cat’s long fur, trying to let her warmth calm him and help him focus on the problem at hand.

~*~

When they got back, Jane watched Grace carry Freyja into the CBI office, and he settled back into his spot on the couch, and he accepted Freyja from Grace. The cat rubbed on him.

“Jane, why do you have a cat?” Lisbon asked.

“We couldn’t leave her there,” Grace replied before he could. “And she loves Jane, so he’ll look after her until we get Riona.”

“And I live here, so here she is,” Jane continued, stroking her fur. “This is Freyja. She’s going to help me focus.”

He pulled the map close to him as Lisbon held out a hand to Freyja. Freyja meowed at her, sniffed, and put her head closer to Lisbon’s hand. Jane smiled slightly as Lisbon ran her fingers through the cat’s fur. He groaned slightly as Freyja pushed off of him, but he couldn’t be mad as she trotted after Lisbon. Freyja seemed to realize, even without Riona here, that these were Riona’s people, and thus they were now her people.

“What does it being personal do for narrowing down the location?” Grace asked.

“It means that he’s going to stay close to Riona. This is about her. He wants his location to be close. No serial killer who is this determined and watches victims’ families for years is going to want to spend a lot of time traveling. You said that it was a black van, dark windows, no license plate. Which means that the neighborhood has to be private, probably an isolated house, big house.” Jane stared at the map. “Wait. Wait. A boat. The marina’s perfect. Even if he has someone with him, he could easily slip in and out. He’s been doing this for years.”

“Good, Jane!” Lisbon said. “But we can’t get a search warrant for the entire marina.”

“Not for the individual boats, but if we can get access to surveillance photos of the marina, we can do a profile of the boats, and we can figure out what one she is on.” Jane looked at Grace. “Can you get those photos?” he asked.

“Sure, okay.” Grace sat down at her computer and started typing.

~*~

Riona’s arms were spread straight out, old fashioned restraints used to keep her down. Her legs were secured, too, not that it mattered since he seemed to exclusively stand behind her as he was working. She was bleeding, exhausted, and she was barely holding on. Her left shoulder was in agony. She knew the knife he used was going to do lots of damage, but she really didn’t expect it to feel like this.

“Getting sleepy?” he asked.

“As if I could sleep with my shoulder,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“An unfortunate outcome, but you are right hand dominant, are you not? I could have done worse.” He twirled a knife around his fingers. “Who was that man who was with you in the car?”

Riona scoffed. “You’ve been stalking me. You knew where we were going, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to cut us off like that. You know who he is.”

“I know he’s a coworker of yours. But he isn’t a usual coworker, is he?”

“Oh, there’s nothing about him that’s usual,” Riona replied. “But why do you care?”

“Because you care about him. None of the rest of your coworkers come over like he does.” He stopped twirling his knife and rubbed his thumb along the flat side of the blade.

“The rest of my coworkers also actually sleep in their own beds,” Riona replied. “I feel better when he doesn’t sleep at CBI, even if he chooses my couch.”

She had a spare bedroom at her house, and she told him to use the bed, but he always ended up on the couch. But she’d learned to make his tea, so when she came downstairs in the mornings and found Freyja on his chest, she started a kettle of water on the stove, and she would wake him up. He’d spent the night only a couple times recently, having grown more reclusive over recent months. She knew he was afraid of showing Red John any kind of relationships and connections that he had with people, especially now that they had Lorelei.

“So, he’s just a coworker, then? Sleeping on the couch.” He toyed with the tip of the blade against his fingertips.

“If you’ve been stalking me, you know who he is, and I don’t feel the need to discuss his life.” Riona would have shrugged if she could, but even if her arms weren’t bound, she would not be able to do it.

“Do you not have anyone in your life, Riona? No romantic relationships?” He was rubbing the side of the blade again.

“Nope,” Riona replied. “What can I say? I’m a workaholic.” She turned her head from side to side, trying to find something to help cut through her restraints, not that it would help while he was watching her so closely.

“And why is that?” he asked. His eyes bore into hers.

“Maybe because someone decided to murder my little brother, and I never got any closure for it, so I work tirelessly to make sure that other people don’t have to live not knowing!” Riona strained against the restraints, and then immediately collapsed against the table as her left shoulder gave out. She saw a flash of white against her eyes with the searing pain, and then she was unconscious.

~*~

“I think I’ve got her,” Jane said. “But how do we find the boat?”

He’d been pouring over the satellite photos from Grace for what felt like an eternity, looking at boats that had been in port and now weren’t. Boats weren’t like planes, though. They didn’t have to file any sort of travel plans. As long as they stayed out of foreign waters, nothing mattered. And he had a sickening feeling that by the time that boat returned, it would be too late.

“Well, it’s just him, right?” Grace asked. “He would have to anchor somewhere in order to do anything. I can see about getting satellite photos for the area. He wouldn’t have to go too far out to keep from attracting attention. It’ll just take a little bit, especially since it’s been dark.”

“Okay, good. Do that.” Jane gestured at her. “We need to find her soon, because if he starts heading back, she’s dead.”

~*~

When Riona came to, she was alone. She turned her head from side to side, and she noticed the tray of smaller knives and scalpels. On her right side. Her good side. She stretched as far as she could, and her fingers snagged the end of the tray. She pulled it, and the little table moved closer. It was enough for her to grab a scalpel to work on the restraints.

She just finished her left restraint when she heard a noise, and she tucked the scalpel into her shirt, put her arms back under the now useless restraints, and gently pushed the tray back. She blinked slowly at him as he reemerged.

“We heading back to the marina?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he replied. “When did you learn you were on a boat?” he asked in return.

“I can hear the water lapping. You couldn’t have expected me to be so quiet, so I imagine we’re actually out in the bay.”

“You are very smart.” He grinned and waved his knife at her.

Riona watched as he turned around. He just stood there, twirling his knife. Riona watched him throw it up in the air and catch it again. She pulled the scalpel out of her shirt, and she took a slow breath.

“You know, your brother surprised me. He wasn’t squirmy. But he shouted for you, and I had to get away before I was seen. It was a quick death.”

She clenched the scalpel in her right fist, knuckles white. “You claim you’re merciful for a quick death? Him and how many other boys with a knife wound so deep that it left marks on bone? That’s a quick death, but it’s painful.”

“But it’s a satisfying death. Watching someone’s blood drain from their body. Watching their eyes. The light leaves faster than the blood. The color drains from their face; the light fades away; the blood waterfalls down. It’s a rush.”

Tears welled up in Riona’s eyes for the first time since she’d been taken onto the boat, and in three strides, she was behind him, scalpel gliding over his throat.

~*~

He was between Grace and Cho in the backseat, having practically begged Lisbon to go with. Coast Guard had located Warren Andrews’ boat, and they were waiting for CBI before boarding. They went out on the Coast Guard boat, and he found Grace’s hand with his good one. There had been no response to Coast Guard’s attempts to contact the boat, and he was preparing himself for the worst.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Grace whispered.

He watched her reach up to her cross necklace with her other hand while squeezing his tighter. He wondered what kind of prayer she was saying. Whatever it was, he hoped Grace’s God or Riona’s stars or something was there to answer it, because his gut was tightening the closer that they got.

They found themselves on the boat, and he stayed back as the officers with guns went first. He hoped it wouldn’t come to a shootout. If it did, they would likely lose Riona in the process, if they hadn’t lost her already.

But there was no response to them as they descended. When he caught sight of the scene in the lower part of Warren Andrews’ boat, he knew what happened immediately, and his breath caught in his throat. He rushed to Riona’s side faster than a man with broken ribs should move, and his fingers shook as he wrapped them around her wrist. Her pulse was strong, and he let out a slow breath that caught multiple times. He closed his eyes to hold back the tears that burned, and he took a few deep breaths to compose himself.

“Riona!” Grace fell down next to him, and he felt her fingers over his.

He moved his hand aside so that Grace could feel Riona’s pulse for herself, and he took Riona in. She would need surgery for her left shoulder; he could tell that she was going to be dealing with the effects of that wound for the rest of her life. Andrews carved it open like it was a Thanksgiving turkey. Both her tattoos on her forearms were dissected, pieces of skin carved out carefully. He remembered a memory that felt like a lifetime ago now, sitting with her in the morgue long after she’d finished Rebecca Anderson’s autopsy, where she rolled up her sleeves to show him the tattoos for the first time, and she just simply said What do you see? An offering for him to do what he does best, to read her.

“Why isn’t she responding?” Grace asked. “Her eyes are open; her pulse is so strong.”

“She killed a man, Grace. Her brain and heart couldn’t reconcile it, so her brain put her in a catatonic state to shut down the emotional trauma. I can hypnotize her, get her to sleep, so then she can get to the hospital and be taken care of, and she’ll wake up when her body’s ready to let her be conscious during her healing.” He looked around at Grace, Lisbon, Cho, and Rigsby, who all hovered much closer than the Coast Guard.

“Do it,” Lisbon said.

He took Riona’s right hand and started twisting her Claddagh ring around her finger. “Riona, feel your ring spin. Feel how it moves. A circle, endless, flowing, no right or wrong. It just is. Float with it. The hands represent friendship. Your friends are here. Me, Grace, Cho, Rigsby, Lisbon. We’re right here. The crown represents loyalty. We all fought so hard because it was you. The heart represents love. You’re family, Riona. You have all of our love. We’re all here. We always will be. Just like the circle. Always going. When I stop twisting your ring, you’re going to go to sleep. And when you wake up, you will never panic about what you experienced. You will be able to say what you want to say about it. You will be able to move through this without shutting down. You will still have the emotions that you would carry from this, but you will never feel so boxed in by them that you turn off. Because you know that infinity goes in both directions. Because you know that energy is never destroyed nor created. You didn’t take this man’s life; you just changed the form of energy he is. So, now, you’ll go to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll be in the hospital, and you’ll be safe, and you’ll be able to heal.”

He kept his voice soft and measured and strong the whole time, even though he wanted to cry in relief. He stopped twisting her ring with the last word, and he watched her eyes slip shut. He squeezed her hand, and he then leaned into Grace. Grace put her arms around him and held him tight, watching as the Coast Guard got her set up for an immediate transfer to an ambulance when they got back to shore.

~*~

Jane was grateful for his ability to sleep on couches and also for the fact that Lisbon didn’t want him out in the field until he was mostly healed up. His ribs were more of a concern than his arm to her, mostly due to the amount of times he had to run away from a problem he caused. So, he’d made himself a spot in Riona’s hospital room, watching over her. She would wake up eventually, and he didn’t want her to be alone. He had gotten the doctors to let him keep Freyja with him, too, and the cat often just laid on the foot of Riona’s bed, watching the nurses and doctors, and occasionally jumping up on the couch with him for love. Grace had been half working out of the hospital, using a laptop to do the work Lisbon asked of her.

He found it funny that no one questioned why Grace was hovering as much as he was, waiting to see when Riona would wake up. It wasn’t like they even worked with Riona every case—or even every other. He’d bonded with Riona, because there were just so many late nights where the two of them were both there, and then when she finally told him about Soll and things clicked into place, but the rest of the team barely saw her.

But he knew that Grace stayed later than everyone else, especially after what happened with Craig. He knew that Riona had reached out to Grace, knew that Riona had gotten Grace to start gardening with her, knew that they were friends and not just colleagues in passing.

“How is she?” Grace asked, handing him a cup of tea and scratching Freya’s ears.

“The same. They’ve been lessening the drugs, so she should be waking up any day. They’re keeping her pain medication dosage pretty high, though. Her shoulder’s a mess.” He looked over his friend, bandages wrapped around both of her forearms, left arm in the worst looking contraption to keep her shoulder in place. “But you’ll be able to actually have that conversation you need to have.” He grinned at Grace.

“I don’t even know if she feels the same way,” Grace said. “It should wait until she’s further in recovery.”

Jane just chuckled. He wouldn’t reveal Riona’s secret—which he was amazed was still a secret, but that’s what happened when she didn’t work with them often. Riona was the easiest person to read; she didn’t have a subtle bone in her body, nor did she know how to lie. She was as clear as glass.

“Why are you laughing at me?” she asked.

Jane snorted. “I’m not laughing at you,” he replied. “I just think that it’s funny that you would want to wait. She very nearly died.” He took a sip of the tea. “Mmm. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, setting up her laptop. “I’m glad you’re staying with her.”

“Me, too. I just don’t want her to be alone.” He looked at Riona again.

She looked so small. It was disconcerting to him. She was a passionate woman, always full of life. Even the first time that he met her, when he’d been fresh out of the inpatient facility, she was just so vibrant.

“How’d you convince the hospital staff to let you keep Freyja here?” Grace asked.

“I clean up after her; Riona’s in her own room, and they’ll be sterilizing it when Riona leaves. Freyja isn’t one to wander. She guards Riona or lays with me. When the nurses or doctors come in, she stays out of the way and just watches. They agreed to try it for a day, and Freyja was a model cat, so she got to stay.”

Grace reached out for the cat, who purred and put her head in Grace’s hand. He smiled as Grace scratched Freyja’s chin.

“You know, it’s a good sign that Freyja likes you so much. It means that she accepts you as part of the family.” He took another sip of tea.

“Oh, really?” Grace sat down beside him, and she pulled her laptop close.

Freyja meowed, and the cat jumped up into Grace’s lap, settling against her. He grinned. The cat liked proving his points. He reached over with his good hand and rubbed the top of the cat’s head.

“I just want her to wake up,” Grace said quietly.

“I know,” he replied, leaning against her and resting his head on her shoulder.

~*~

He was resting. He was in the chair beside Riona’s bed, leaning back, and he held her right hand in his own right hand. Only one more week in his sling, and then he’d be free of it. He opened his eyes when he felt her shift, when her fingers clasped his.

“Riona?”

“Mmm. Patrick Jane, is that you?” She blinked over and over again, words slurred and hoarse, voice scratchy.

“Yeah,” he replied, laughing.

“Mreow!” Freyja walked up the bed and nosed at Riona’s hand.

“Kitty! Pretty Kitty!” Riona dropped his hand and cooed at Freyja.

Freyja nuzzled Riona and purred loudly.

“How about I get you some water?” he asked.

Riona nodded, rubbing Freyja’s ears. He handed Riona a cup with a little straw and sat back down. She took little sips, and she smiled at him.

“I love you,” she told him.

He smiled. “I know you do.” He caught Grace’s red hair through the window, and he beamed. “But who do you love more?”

“Grace!” she exclaimed. “Grace is passionate and dedicated and kind and warm and beautiful, and I love her so much! Is Grace coming? Do I get to see her? Oh, I hope that she’s coming. When she’s here, everything is just better.”

He watched Grace turn bright red as she overheard Riona’s grand declarations, and he snickered. Yes, he was going to have fun with a heavily medicated Riona. He winked at Grace, and she just narrowed her eyes at him.

“Riona, are you feeling okay?” she asked.

“I’m great,” Riona replied. “So much better now that you’re here, Grace! Oh, you just light up the whole room. What day is it?”

“It’s Tuesday. You’ve been in the hospital for two weeks,” he told her gently. “What do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember all of it,” Riona said, waving her good hand around. “The boat, the knives, the death. There was a lot happening. I don’t like serial killers.”

He and Grace both laughed, and he got up and offered his chair to Grace. Grace sat down beside Riona, and he settled on the couch.

“They should make a constellation for you,” Riona said. “Croi de Grace. Something that emphasizes your heart.”

“You’re sweet,” Grace replied.

“It’s true,” Riona insisted. “You should be immortalized in the stars.”

“Riona, you are truly something when drugged,” he told her.

“Well, whatever they’re giving me is fantastic.” Riona giggled. “Patrick! Patrick, come here!”

He moved over to her side and looked at her with a half-smile. “Yes, Riona?”

“Thank you. You promised me a few years ago you’d help me get my closure for Soll. You did.”

“You’re welcome.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m going to get some tea. Grace, you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” she answered.

~*~

It was another week after she first woke up, and Riona was decidedly less drugged. She didn’t really remember much of what happened. It was mostly a blur, just knowledge that Jane and Grace had been there most of the time, and that she had a very happy cat. She still wasn’t sure how Jane had conned the hospital staff into letting Freyja stay with her, but she was glad he did.

Grace came in, and Riona smiled.

“Hey,” Riona said. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

Grace smiled at her. “Well, since Jane’s back in the field, I thought I could do some work from here. And, I…I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?” Riona asked. “Did I say something really embarrassing?” She wracked her brain, trying to remember what she could have said, but the last week was so disorienting to her.

“Um, it’s only embarrassing for me if you didn’t mean it,” Grace replied.

Riona’s eyes widened as she vaguely recalled Jane asking who she loved more than him. Heat burned her face.

“You remember?” Grace asked softly.

“Very vaguely. Jane has known how I’ve felt forever. He finally brought it up to me when he sat with me after I did Rebecca’s autopsy.” Riona let out a small laugh. “I was never going to say anything; it’s hard to tell when I come across other women if they’re just friendly or if they’re actually interested in women.” She chewed her bottom lip. “But I do love you; that wasn’t just the drugs.”

“Good. That’s really good. Because I’ve spent so long trying to figure out how to tell you that I have feelings for you. That day Jane took us riding at the racetrack. That was when I started looking at you differently. I’ve always seen you as an attractive woman, but I grew up in a conservative Christian home, and I’m lucky that since coming here, I’ve figured out how to reconcile my religion with my sexuality. But it was a long, private process, and then Craig happened, and I had no idea if you would ever feel the same way, so I just kept my feelings buried, but then you were just saying all these things, and—”

“Will you just kiss me?” Riona asked, finding Grace adorable when flustered.

“Yes,” Grace replied.

Riona leaned into Grace’s hands as the other woman cupped her face, and she closed her eyes when Grace’s lips brushed hers. Grace kept it short and gentle, but it was enough. Especially for while Riona was hooked up to a bunch of machines, especially the one that was monitoring her heart rate.

“I love you, Grace,” Riona said.

“I love you, too, Riona.” Grace kissed her forehead.

“Stay?” she asked.

“Of course,” Grace replied. “I brought some crime scene photos if you want to help.” Grace pulled the file out of her bag.

“Oh, you are wonderful,” Riona mused.

~*~

Riona watched the window as she saw the CBI team coming in. They had boxes of pizza with them.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Case closed pizza,” Grace answered. “We cleared it with your doctors, and you actually noticed stuff off those photos that the forensics unit missed, so you get to share it with us.”

Riona beamed. “Thank you!”

“Thank you,” Lisbon said. “Although I miss having you at crime scenes to make Jane behave himself.”

Jane just shrugged and handed Riona a plate with some veggie pizza on it. “Extra mushrooms for you.”

“You know, Grace can find my prodding tool. You’re welcome to use it while I’m gone.” Riona took a bite of pizza. “Mmm. Thank you.”

A knock on the door interrupted Jane’s protest to being prodded, and a nurse came in with an envelope.

“Someone dropped this off for you, Dr. Gallagher,” she said.

Riona gestured to Jane, pizza still in hand. “Since my good hand is otherwise occupied, can you hand it to him?” she asked.

The nurse nodded and handed it to Jane. Riona was curious.

“Who delivered it?” she asked.

“No one knows. It just appeared at the nurse’s station. We checked the cameras already, but no one has been able to figure out when it arrived.”

Riona’s chest tightened. That sounded bad, and she knew all the agents in the room agreed, as they’d all stopped eating. The nurse left without another word, and Riona just gestured for Jane to open it up.

He did, and he immediately dropped it. Grace grabbed the paper off the bed.

“Dr. Riona Gallagher, my sincerest gratitude for your help in ridding the world of Mr. Andrews. He was not a rival, more of a friend, but he did know who I am. I would have had to do the work myself one of these days, but I had not realized that Mr. Jane dug so close to Mr. Andrews. Best wishes for your recovery.”

Riona dropped her pizza when Grace turned the letter around to reveal the Red John smiley drawn onto the otherwise typed letter in red pen.

“Get that to forensics,” Lisbon ordered. “Cho, Rigsby, go double check the cameras. Grace, stay with Riona. Jane and I need to go talk to the other nurses.”

For the first time since Riona cut Warren Andrews’ throat, she began to cry.

#written in the stars (my writing)#v: to the morgue i got it (the mentalist)#otp: see the good

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apricotstone47 · 6 years ago

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Teenager Sancho has become a first-team regular in Germany since leaving Manchester City and will be back in London to face Spurs at Wembley on Wednesday “My friends in Kennington always ask me: ‘Can I have a shirt for my little brother or my cousin?’ And I always send them shirts,” says Jadon Sancho. “I will never forget where I have come from because I know what it is like growing up in that area … it is not nice. Especially when you have people around you doing bad things.” More than a month away from celebrating his 19th birthday, the first player born this millennium to represent England and a trailblazer for his generation is holding court at Borussia Dortmund’s Westfalenstadion. Dressed in a turquoise green tracksuit and immaculate matching trainers, the unassuming Sancho does not come across as the most coveted teenager in world football as he makes a point of shaking hands with every journalist around the table with the greeting, “nice to meet you”. Clearly at ease in his surroundings in western Germany as he prepares for his return to London to face Tottenham in the Champions League on Wednesday, he is taller and broader in the shoulders than this time last year; something the makers of the Fifa video game may want to take note of. “I am stronger than it says,” he says, laughing. The boy from the Guinness Trust Buildings estate who left home at 12 has now become a man. Will Dortmund stutter prove a useful lesson or open the door for Bayern? “For the kids that are in south London I hope I can give a positive message,” he adds, intently. “Don’t do those bad things. You don’t have to be footballers. You could focus on your school work. Education is the most important thing and a lot of kids in south London get distracted from education.” Had he not been blessed with a talent with the ball that convinced his headteacher at Crampton primary school he was destined to be a star when she first saw him as a five-year-old, Sancho knows his story could have turned out very differently. Eight goals – including the brilliant finish from a tight angle in Saturday’s 3-3 draw with Hoffenheim – and nine assists in the Bundesliga this season have allowed Lucien Favre’s vibrant young Dortmund side to dream of winning a first title since 2012. His bold decision to reject a new contract with Manchester City worth £30,000-a-week and move to Germany in search of first-team football is proving a masterstroke. Yet just like on the pitch, where his outstanding skill and dribbling speed have made him a social media sensation and earned comparisons with Neymar, Sancho has always been prepared to take risks. Having joined Watford aged seven, he would travel across London three nights a week to train and was later persuaded to leave his friends and family behind to join the club’s affiliated school, Harefield Academy in Uxbridge, west London. “I didn’t really want to go to that boarding school,” Sancho reflects nearly seven years on. “I wanted to stay at home and travel but the people around me told me what was best and I listened to them. I am happy that I am here today, where I am.” Now sharing an apartment with his father, Sean, a former security guard, near Dortmund’s impressive home, Sancho is in regular touch with his mother and friends back in Kennington and says he is enjoying life in “a chilled city”, even if he admits “learning German will be always kind of hard to me. But I’m getting the basics right,” he adds with enthusiasm, “working up on speaking German in training. I know what the manager is saying in training sessions, which makes it easier for me and for the players also: that’s how you interact, you come together more. “Me being so comfortable being abroad is due to the fact I’ve always been away from home. When I first left home it was very difficult, because I wasn’t used to it, I was always with my mum. The first couple of years were very tough and then as I got older people started to tell me: ‘It’s either this or going back home.’ And I always loved football, so I always chose the hard option. That’s what’s made me more comfortable being away from home than other people, so I’m kind of lucky.” Last month, Chelsea rejected a bid of £35m from Bayern Munich for Callum Hudson-Odoi that would have made him the most expensive British teenager. Germany’s most successful club remain confident of signing him in the summer and it is no exaggeration to say that Sancho’s impact at Dortmund since he was handed Ousmane Dembélé’s No 7 shirt in 2017 has been a major influence in their determination to sign his former England Under‑17 teammate. BVB’s sporting director, Michael Zorc, said it was during a youth international that they first became aware of Sancho’s extraordinary ability and subsequently made every effort to persuade him to leave City. Sign up to The Recap, our weekly email of editors’ picks. But having come up against his childhood friend Reiss Nelson against Hoffenheim on Saturday – the 19-year-old is on loan from Arsenal until the end of the season – and with several other English teenagers starting to follow in Sancho’s slipstream as opportunities for young players in the Premier League continue to be scarce, he is quick to explain that the adaptation has taken time. “It hasn’t been easy. I’ve had to work for this. Everyone around me is keeping me grounded and keeping me focused. I’m improving every day and Marco Reus, Mario Götze and Axel Witsel are great role models to me and everyone else in the team. It’s really nice to have them around telling me what to do, and what’s not good, helping me solve things I wouldn’t solve by myself, so I’m happy.” Sancho adds: “[Coming to Germany] was about the youngsters here getting opportunities. I really felt Dortmund was the right club for me. They spoke to me and said the right things I wanted to hear. Now they’re showing it and I couldn’t thank them more.” Sancho won his first senior England cap against Croatia in October and was visited in Dortmund last week by Gareth Southgate’s assistant, Steve Holland. He is expected to be part of the squad that will face the Netherlands in June in the Nations League semi-final in Portugal but says being out of the spotlight in another country has allowed him to keep a distance from the developing hype surrounding him back home. “I’m not aware at all,” he says. “Obviously I’ve seen Twitter things, but I don’t know how … I don’t ask questions really, I just stay focused on what I’m doing and just keep going forward. All this media. This is all new to me. This is all crazy. I never knew you could be so known over your success. I thought if you are doing well everyone talks obviously, the fans, but I never knew they would take so much interest, but this helps a young player, the media training. It helps them out but this is the biggest thing. This is crazy.” It must be said that his innocence is rather endearing. Sancho also barely seems able to believe that he will be back in his home city to play against Tottenham in the first leg of their last-16 tie in Europe’s premier club competition. Thirty members of his family and close friends will be at Wembley to see whether Dortmund can gain revenge for losing home and away to Spurs in the group stages last season. “I feel like we have improved so it won’t be the same match as last year. It will be more difficult for them. Especially as they have some big players missing out so it is going to be a tough one,” Sancho says. “It’s a great feeling. I’ll be playing in front of my family, which is something I’ve always wanted to do since I was a young boy. Now I’m able to do it and hopefully I can show London people what I’m about. Everyone was messaging me saying: ‘I need a ticket!’ It’s big. I’m just happy that I’m playing in the Champions League. It is a big thing for me like it is for every player. That’s the biggest stage in the world so I’ve got to keep on working hard and hopefully I will get many more chances.” As well as his quick feet and mesmerising ball control, Sancho attributes his fearless attitude to the hours and hours of cage matches he played as a child on the estate in Kennington. He plans to return to Crampton and Harefield at the end of the season to answer questions from pupils and is clearly passionate about giving something back to the community that helped raise him. “I am trying to go back to my old schools first,” he says. “Hopefully, if things progress I can go to other schools and give things out from [sponsors] Nike. That would be nice for the school – like footballs and things like that. I was where they are once upon a time … just to give them a good message would be nice for them to hear.” Eloquent, intelligent and with the world at his feet, Sancho is certainly a decent role model for any child of the 21st century.

The Guardian 12.02.19

#jadon sancho #Borussia Dortmund

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sims3morgans · 6 years ago

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Siblings Interview Tag

I was tagged by @dreamsongsims Thank you! It was fun to write dialogue for Olwyn and Bethan, I’ve not done that before because of the style of my blog. I got a little bit carried away, hope you enjoy!

Tagging: @simcatcher

Interview under the cut...

The following is part of the transcript of an interview with the Morgan Sisters, following the publication of Olwyn Morgan’s second book. Under her pseudonym Octavia Morrigan, Olwyn has had incredible success but has until refused all calls for media interviews. She agreed to this one for International Sisters Day so long as her sister Bethan could join us.

1. Which one of you is the older sibling?

Bethan: That would be Olwyn.

Interviewer: Do you remember a time before Bethan came along Olwyn?

Olwyn: I do, but only just. My earliest memory is watching my parents renew their vows when I was a toddler. After that I hadn’t long aged up into a child when Bethan was born – so I haven’t got many memories without her.”

2. What do you like about your sibling?

Interviewer: Bethan, would you like to start?

Bethan: Sure. Okay so the first thing you need to know about Olwyn is she’s kind. And patient. I’ve seen that my whole life, she’s been the perfect big sister, balancing me out – I’m a little more abrupt I guess. But as I’ve got older I’ve seen she’s got a wicked streak too. She kept her success as an author a secret but played with us by buying expensive presents… I knew my prom dress was hella expensive but I couldn’t prove it! Oh yeah, so she’s generous too.

Interviewer: And you Olwyn?

Olwyn: Bethan is patient in her own way too. When we were children she tried hard to help me out of my shell, I was so shy you see. What I really admire in her though is the way she feels things so deeply. I can remove myself form my feelings a bit, but Bethan really feels whatever she’s feeling. Love, hate, loyalty… it’s wonderful.

3. What annoys you about your sibling?

//Bethan glances at Olwyn, she’s grinning.//

Bethan: Olwyn?

Olwyn: Bethan can be a bit… well sometimes she….

Bethan: I’m a bit much!

Olwyn, smiling: Exactly. When a family friend was living with us, back when we lived in Bridgeport.

Bethan: That ****.

Olwyn: Bethan! You see? Well sometimes she feels things so deeply she actually makes the situation worse. A***** (name redacted) was being unpleasant to me personally, but the three of us shared a room. The smart thing to do was to swallow our feelings so we could rub along in those small quarters – Bethan took against him and created an atmosphere.

//Bethan rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair.//

Bethan: A***** (name redacted) was a ****. Whatever. You know what annoys me about you Olwyn? You’re too easy going. You forgive people, and let them walk all over you. If I ever see A***** again, he won’t know what’s hit him.

4. Describe your sibling(s) with three adjectives.

Bethan: Olwyn is serene, kind, and unaccountably humble.

//Olwyn appears touched, her hand on her chest.//

Olwyn: Thank you. I would say that Bethan is earnest, adaptable and loyal.

5. What is your sibling’s/siblings’ biggest talent(s)?

Bethan: Oh that’s easy, she’s an amazing author! I loved her work even before I knew she was the one writing it.

Olwyn: Thank you Bethan, it was quite tough listening to you speculate about the plot for the sequel, you had it all so wrong! But anyway. Bethan’s biggest talent is her ability to see the diamond in the rough. She does it at work, finding scrap to turn into art, but also in people. She’s see’s inside people instinctively, and often brings out the best in them just by being herself.

//Bethan’s mouth drops open.//

Bethan: I… Olwyn. I… that’s beautiful.

//Olwyn shrugs.//

Olwyn: It’s what you do.

6. What is your sibling(s) really bad at?

Olwyn: Bethan can’t always see very far ahead. She lives in the moment you know? She can be so fixated on doing what she’s doing the consequences escape her.

Bethan: Oh so you’re bringing up the swimming thing again…

Olwyn: I…

Bethan: Okay, I swam too far out into Bridgeport River. I was having fun!

Olwyn: Bethan it’s all water under the bridge.

//Bethan pauses, then grins.//

Bethan: That was terrible. Right, okay so Olwyn is really bad at gardening. Mum and Dad, their whole livelihood is gardening and Olwyn’s been trying to help them since she was a kid but they’ve never had the heart to tell her how bad she is at it!

Olwyn: They all look the same! How you can tell a shoot from a weed…

7. Do you have nicknames for each other?

Bethan: No not really. We don’t do that in our family I guess. Olwyn would you..?

Olwyn: Yes I agree. Both our names are quite short so we’ve not needed to shorten them further, and silly nicknames… no – it’s not for us.

8. What’s one thing you can do that your sibling(s) can’t?

Olwyn: Bethan’s not really at home in the kitchen. I can cook quite well, I do a nice ratatouille. Which is just as well we eat a lot of vegetables. We were quite poor for a long time you see, sometimes we only had the vegetables we’d grown ourselves to eat, for weeks at a time. You learn to make the most of what you have.

Bethan: I paint – I don’t know if Olwyn’s ever picked up a paintbrush! I did a few for her side of the bedroom because she was going to be satisfied with bare walls.

9. Did you get along when you were younger?

Bethan: We did. We’re fairly different Sims, but we got along very well.

Olwyn: We had to I think. Our bedroom in Bridgeport was so small… any arguments could have got nasty. Maybe being so different was our saving grace, less conflict?

10. What is your funniest childhood memory of your sibling?

Olwyn: Bethan was a treasure trove of funny moments, I think she put it on a bit to lighten tension. When we were both children, she had this signature pratfall off the climbing frame at school – cracked me up every time!

Bethan: Looking back, there’s loads of moments where Olwyn was being really funny but in her understated way you know? I think for me it’s when we were both teens and we had this really nasty teacher for music class. Neither of us are musical, so she was pretty mean to us. Olwyn would insist in smiling sweetly and saying “See you next Tuesday” to her after every lesson. Cracked us all up, because we weren’t sure whether the good girl Olwyn knew what she was saying! Mrs Bridey wasn’t sure either – her eyes would bug out!

Olwyn: Oh I definitely knew what I was saying.

11. Are you closer now or when you were younger?

Bethan: Physically obviously we were closer when we were younger. Not living together does limit things! I miss Olwyn’s cooking, and chatting over breakfast… but we’re still close.

Olwyn: I think we have that kind of relationship where you might not see each other for a couple of weeks, but when you do it’s like you’ve never been apart. We’re not brittle, we’re sisters and friends and no amount of time apart could change that. We’re young adults now, and making our own lives, and we’re confident enough in our relationship to give each other the space to do that.

Bethan: Ugh, Olwyn you always say things so nice!”

Olwyn: I am a wordsmith Bethan!

12. Did you compete with each other?

Bethan: Nope.

Olwyn: No, not really. We built each other up.

13. Which one of you is more likely to turn out like your mum or dad?

Olwyn: Well neither of us is particularly interested in vegetables…

Bethan: Olwyn! She means like, emotionally and stuff.”

Olwyn: Oh of course. Well we’ve both inherited a strong sense of family being important from them. Of sticking together, and helping each other out. Financially, emotionally, we’re a team.

Bethan: Right. Olwyn’s got it in one – family is more important than anything. Than money, than fame… it’s everything.

14. Which one is most likely to have a big family?

Both at the same time: “Bethan.” “Olwyn.”

//The sisters look at each other, both surprised by the others answer.//

Interviewer: Hmm, moving on…

15. What is one thing about your sibling(s) that has changed as you’ve gotten older?

Olwyn: Bethan where’s her hair down sometimes now. It’s been in a ponytail since she was old enough to reach behind her head to tie it up! But I guess she’s also more secure in herself. You seemed to want to prove yourself when we were younger Bethan, you still have drive and ambition but the edge to it has softened.

//Bethan nods.//

Bethan: I guess I can see that. I was desperate to help the family with our finances, then I was desperate to make a connection with a boy – any boy! I think the urgency wore off both those things, and I was much happier for it.

And you Olwyn, I think you’ve found your niche. In Bridgeport you never really fit in anywhere, but here in Appaloosa Plains you’ve found friends and - oh I dunno. You just really seem to belong here.”

16. Who’s better at math?

Olwyn: Bethan.

Bethan: Yep, definitely me.

17. Who is more pessimistic and who is more optimistic?

Bethan: We’re both optimists, but it comes out differently I think. Olwyn finds the silver lining in any situation, so is happy to sit in it even if it’s actually not that great. I look at a situation and look for ways to make things better, or move things along at least.

18. Is there anything you don’t like doing together?

Olwyn: I don’t think we’ve ever gone drinking together, I’m not sure if it’s because Bethan and I don’t want to or just haven’t…

Bethan: Hey that’s right! And a lot of our friends overlap. Weird.

19. Which one of you do you think will get married first?

Olwyn: Bethan, things are looking pretty serious with her and Calvin..?

Bethan: I’m not sure we’re there yet!

Olwyn: Bethan, you have matching tattoos.

Bethan: Yes but… well he hasn’t asked. And I don’t plan to. Getting married is just so – I mean I love him but… It’s so public! You’ll probably get swept off your feet and marry someone within a season while Calvin and I are still figuring things out.

20. Lastly, how often do you argue?

Olwyn: Not often.

Bethan: Only about the big things, we don’t stress the small stuff. We get that from our dad, he’s pretty easy going.

Olwyn: Whereas mum...

Both laugh

#sisters #interview #sims3morgans #sims #sims story #sims storytelling #transcript #sims 3 #sims 3 screenshots #sims 3 story #ts3 #ts3 simblr #simblr #sims questions #sims q&a

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joanofsnarrrk · 6 years ago

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Fic: as iron sharpens iron (Burn Notice) - 4K words & counting

SUMMARY: Somewhere along the way, at one point or another, Madeline tells them, “The three of you need to stick together.”

And that, more or less, is what they do.

So I know Burn Notice Week isn’t for a few weeks, but my work schedule is insane, and while I had a rare day off and moment to post, I seized it. More chapters will follow (one for each season) eventually. But for now, please enjoy the first part of as iron sharpens iron.

Can also be found on AO3.

————————————

Though one may be overpowered, Two can easily defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

—Ecclesiastes 4:12, NIV

—————————————

Somewhere along the way, at one point or another, Madeline tells them, "The three of you need to stick together."

And that, more or less, is what they do.

—

Even before he opens his eyes, Michael just...knows he's in Miami. Besides the humidity (he can feel the sweat pooling at his lower back) and the brilliant sunlight pouring through...wherever it's pouring in from (caves set high in the mountains of Afghanistan don't usually get a lot of natural light), he can hear the faint trace of calypso music coming in from outside.

So he doesn't actually need Fi to kick him with what feels like an especially sharp boot, but she takes it upon herself to do so anyway. Not that he knows it's her immediately. No, that little realization doesn't occur until after he momentarily blacks out from the pain (she was always a great markswoman, so it only makes sense that her foot connects directly to every single one of his cracked ribs) and before his head promptly begins pounding.

When he does finally see her (and hear her—he'd recognize that Irish brogue anywhere), it's...a lot. Especially since he halfway thought he would never see her again. Besides cosmetics (her hair's lighter, no bangs—she's tanner, too), she looks the same as she did the last time they were...together. And now she's here, in the flesh, complaining that he still has her listed as his emergency contact (he knew there was something else he needed to submit to H.R. when he last updated his W-4). It's equal parts comforting and completely unnerving.

There are countless questions running through his mind as he struggles to sit upright (who burned him, how can he contact his handler, is Fi still mad that he left, etc.?), but at least one of them is answered when Fi cheerfully admits that she contacted his mother.

Welcome to Miami.

—

Soon after, she ditches the accent. Buys a whole new wardrobe.

From a tactical standpoint, it makes sense—using camouflage to blend into your surroundings makes you a harder target to spot.

From a personal standpoint, it's still—well, she's—the whole thing is...it's a lot.

—

Sam Axe is what would happen if Magnum, P.I. ever did a reunion special where Magnum—a few decades older and well into retirement—started mooching off every widow and bored housewife in Oahu. And yet, unlike Magnum, with Sam it's a whole lot less grating and more...well, endearing.

With the exception of Fi (though even that might be stretching it at this point), he no longer has a secure network of people he trusts. Most of them, he assumes, went up in smoke alongside his job and identity the moment his burn notice was issued. That said, it's nice to see the familiar face of an old friend in the midst of it all.

Even if that friend sticks him with the bar tab when all he ordered was water.

—

It's practically an ambush, all things considered.

When Sam mentions his money laundering contact, Barry, and follows it up with, "We have to bring you up to speed, brother," Michael assumes he means an in-person introduction.

And it is, for all intents and purposes, an in-person introduction when Michael meets up with the two at Carlito's the next day...

But mostly, it's an ambush.

"So you're tellin' me Mike was absent for the whole dot-com boom?" Barry asks, as if Michael isn't sitting right there next to him. He's staring at Michael like he's the most fascinating installation at the Peréz Art Museum.

Sam, on the other hand, keeps looking at him with an almost insulting amount of pity. "'fraid so," he admits miserably, draining the last of his mojito. "Although he wasn't really absent, per se, just swamped with the whole covert black ops—"

"Sam," Michael cuts in, smile strained. "How about we avoid divulging classified intel to the stranger with the movie villain goatee I just met?" He looks Barry over once and holds up his hands placatingly. "No—well, some offense."

Barry frowns. "Some taken."

"Listen, Mikey, Barry's practically family," Sam says as he signals for the waitress to bring him a refill.

"Well," Barry clarifies, "estranged at best."

"Sure, fine." Sam redirects his attention back to Michael. "The point is: now that you're back in Miami, you have to be able to talk about non-job related topics. And that's pretty tough when you're not up to date on the last decade of popular culture."

Michael shifts uncomfortably. "I'm cultured," he insists, looking between both Sam and Barry. "For instance, the 2000 election? Here in Florida, there were hanging chads and—" Off their pained expressions, he switches tactics, having to dig deeper. "What about...?" He brightens. "J-Lo! She's still considered popular, right?"

Sam chuckles. "Not for the same reason you're thinking, Mike."

The waitress comes by with their drinks. Sam thanks her—his concluding wink almost subtle—but Barry looks like he might be sick.

"So, like...no American Idol?" he wants to know, his tone taking on an edge of urgency. "No Brangelina?" Michael shakes his head, wondering idly if Barry has started speaking Spanish somehow. "What about the Hilton twins? Or, even, Tom Cruise?"

"Wait, yes! He's the, uh, Top Gun guy."

"He was the Top Gun guy," Sam corrects. "Now he's just crazy."

Barry scrubs a hand over his face before downing his cocktail in one go. "I don't know, Sam. This is a much bigger job than you let on. I mean, I'm gonna have to clear my appointments for the day," he points out wearily, "and then I'm gonna have to deal with pissed off clients—wealthy and powerful pissed off clients."

Sam brushes him off. "Barry, this is for a worthy cause." He gestures over to Michael. "I mean, look at him!"

"I'm sitting right here," Michael reminds them through gritted teeth.

Ignoring him, Barry sighs and pulls his Blackberry out. Within seconds, he's shot out a half dozen texts containing haphazard apologies for the cancellations. "Fine," he relents. "Let's start with the basics."

"And make sure we touch on the 'Phins," Sam insists. "The last player Mike could name was Marino, and he hasn't been with the team since he retired in '99. It's embarrassing."

Michael emits a strangled sound of protest before he lets his head drop to the table with a soft, defeated thud.

—

No one is more surprised than Fi when Madeline, of all people, calls to invite her to play poker with her and some of the ladies from the neighborhood only a few short weeks after she makes the move to Miami permanent. With the exception of her sister, Claire, Fi has never really had many female friends. Not for lack of interest or trying, certainly, but the job does tend to have a frustratingly imbalanced male-to-female ratio.

So, obviously, she says yes. After all, it's not as though she could possibly decline. Not when Madeline had ended their phone call with an incredibly touching: "Fiona, honey, you're welcome over any time." And especially not when she can provide such crucial insight into Michael's early years.

In preparation, she finds the least threatening sundress she owns (A-line skirt, a floral pattern of goldenrods and peonies), and brings along a variety of snacks (surely these types of get-togethers operate like more civilized, less mind-numbingly boring stakeouts?).

When she arrives, Madeline greets her warmly with a hug (a bit of a surprise considering they've only ever spoken on the phone and haven't actually met in person before), places her snacks on the counter, and introduces her to the rest of the group. It's...nice. They're a friendly bunch: adorable retirees with a penchant for gossip and neighborhood intel that would put any spy to shame. A couple hours later, though, when she's down by nearly two hundred dollars, she has the sneaking suspicion it all may be a ruse designed to lull her into a false sense of security.

Oh, they are very good.

"So, Fiona," Evelyn asks her. She raises and throws a couple chips onto the growing pile at the center of the table. "How do you know Madeline's son?"

Fi takes in Evelyn's shockingly bright orange dye job as she thinks about how best to answer that question. Ex-girlfriend? Colleagues? Both invite their own share of difficult and obtrusive questions. She could go with "wife" (Michael would positively burst, she's sure of it), but Madeline would see right through that.

"He's my boyfriend." It's not...not true.

"How wonderful!" Madeline's other friend, Phyllis, exclaims. She has been knocking back Corona Extras like she hasn't had a spot to drink in months. "How long have the two of you been together?"

In addition to Madeline's affinity for nicotine, Evelyn seems to share her love of taking all of Fi's money. Fi folds and tosses her cards on the table.

"Oh!" she says suddenly playing at bashful and giggling. "It's—well, it's still kind of new—" Again, not...not true. "—but it feels like we've known each other forever."

She almost feels guilty at the way Madeline's face lights up, how her smile warms at her little fib. But she barely has time to dwell on it before the front door opens. When she turns around, she's met with the sight of Michael—in tan chinos and a light blue oxford—slack-jawed and cradling a casserole dish. She playfully waggles her fingers at him.

"Ma," he says carefully, only glancing at her briefly, his smile too forced to be genuine. "I thought you, me, and Fi were having dinner tonight. You said seven, right?"

Madeline brightens as she directs him and the casserole to the kitchen. "We are. Me and the girls are just finishing up." To the rest of the group, she says, "Ladies, this is my son, Michael!"

"Hey...Hi." He waves at them all awkwardly before taking the empty seat across from Fi, next to Evelyn. She shouldn't laugh, truly, but his discomfort in the face of the group's sudden enthusiasm over his distinctly male presence is palpable. She tries to hide her amusement by draining the contents of her beer bottle, but judging by the way Michael's brow darkens and his mouth practically thins into nonexistence, she is nowhere near successful.

Madeline is the last one to fold before Evelyn takes the pot. As she rakes in her winnings, Phyllis leans over toward Fi and makes it a point to say not at all quietly, "He's very handsome."

This time when she looks at Michael, unable to hide her amused grin, he smiles at Phyllis appreciatively before fixing Fi with a look of quiet desperation.

"Oh, he is!" She sighs dreamily and winks at him, relishing his discomfort only a little. He frowns back. "I'm the luckiest girl in all Miami."

—

It starts out innocently enough. Fi merely offers Sam a simple suggestion for how to properly apologize to Veronica—that unfortunate woman—yet somehow that evolves into him wanting to talk about all his "lady problems" with her.

(Seriously, that poor woman! She must be positively unwell. Perhaps she's deaf or blind? Best case scenario: she's deaf and blind, and this relationship is simply court-ordered community service outreach to the elderly.)

At first, Fi relished the thought that he picked her over Michael (who has all the emotional sensitivity of an unstable IED) to confide his most vulnerable secrets to, but it soon becomes too much. Phone calls, text messages, then phone calls and text messages. Eventually, she has to draw a line, demonstrate at least a little pride.

Plus, she's still pissed about the whole "him-costing-her-a-lot-of-money-because-he-interfered-with-her-legitimate-business-deal-with-the-Libyan-arms-dealer" thing, y'know? No one has ever accused her of letting go of a grudge too soon.

"I don't know what to tell you, Sam." She sighs dramatically as if talking to him is positively exhausting (which, it is) before she slams the trunk of her car closed, yoga mat in hand.

He blocks her path forward before she even has a chance to turn around. "Fi, you don't understand," he says desperately, and a small (fine, large) part of her finds a simple delight in his suffering. "This could be it for Veronica and me. She still hasn't forgiven me for the last job we pulled, and I—"

"Sam." Even saying his name is taking a lot of self-control at the moment. She manages to slip past him and dart across the street. To his credit, he keeps up and corners her in front of the studio. "I'm just too busy right now, and I'm going to be late." She holds up her mat pointedly and pushes past him to the front door. "So unless you want to join my Bikram yoga class, I—"

"Fine."

The little bell at the top of the door rings a second time as he follows her inside. As he not-at-all-subtly rakes his gaze over a couple of women in yoga pants on their way out, she gapes at him.

"What?" He shrugs when he catches her staring. "I told you: this is serious."

So that's how she finds herself some fifteen minutes later watching Sam—drenched through his linen slacks and hideous Hawaiian print shirt—struggling with downward facing dog on the mat right next to hers.

"Geez, Fi," he huffs, his gold chain now dangling over his chin, "you do this for fun?"

She watches as beads of sweat roll down his bright red face in rapid succession. It takes everything in her to keep a straight face.

"Why do you even pay for this?" he continues as if interrupting her meditation isn't enough. "If I wanted to exert myself in this much humidity, I'd ask my old CO to ship me back out to Kuwait, or hell, I could just as easily go outside.

It takes an immense amount of concentration for her to regain her balance (physically and spiritually) and counteract the irritation she's feeling, but she finally asks, short of snapping, "Wasn't there some...Veronica issue you wanted to discuss?"

"Fi," he says, breath haggard, "she's pissed about the car again."

She blinks as a bead of sweat hits her eye. "Well, of course she's pissed about the car." A little quieter, she hisses, "You practically blew it up!"

"I—" The instructor tells the class to transition to triangle pose just as the ventilation system switches back on, pumping more hot air into the confined space. Sam has to account for the increased sound, and the fact that her back is now to him when he clarifies, "That was for the job, and you know it, sister! It was either that, or a Czech assassin would have made mincemeat outta you, me, and Mikey."

She twists, fingers stretched out toward the ceiling. "Well, it's not about any of that for Veronica, Sam. It's...it's more like if you can't cherish her car, how could you possibly cherish her?" she explains as if it's the most obvious thing in the world (which, it is).

Sam's quiet for a moment—the instructor has them shift into chair pose—before he glances over at her. He swipes his soaked through hair out of his face. "Cherish, huh?"

She turns to him and nods, somewhat impressed that he has both made it this far in life being dense and that he hasn't passed out quite yet.

—

"So, neither of you will help me with this?"

Sam and Fi exchange a lazy glance before looking back at Michael from behind their respective sunglasses. Fi sighs dramatically. "It's not that we won't help, Michael. It's more like we..." She looks over at Sam for back up. "I want to say...can't?"

Sam laces his fingers behind his head and shrugs. "Sure, 'can't' works."

Michael throws both of them an unimpressed (and admittedly, envious) look from over his shoulder as he pauses his work on the Charger's carburetor. They're both set up in slightly rusted out poolside chairs with their feet soaking in a plastic kiddie pool that doesn't look a day younger than the early '70s. Probably some artifact from when he and Nate were younger.

He sets his 3/8" combo wrench on top of the engine. "Right, and you both can't," he probes, now leaning against the Charger, facing his two friends, as he gestures for them to continue, "because...?"

"What do you want from us, Michael?" Fi demands listlessly. He watches as she slides her bikini strap (she and Sam are both wearing bathing suits) off her right shoulder, so she can evenly apply more sunscreen. He swallows, possibly lingering longer than necessary (she's...well, it's...still a lot) before redirecting his attention anywhere else.

"Yeah," Sam agrees, snagging the tube of sunscreen out of Fi's hands, despite her protests. "You're the one that called for a debrief on the hottest day of the whole damn calendar year."

Michael pointedly ignores the rivulets of sweat soaking into his beater and, worse, the waistband of his jeans. "It's not the hottest—"

Sam cuts him off. "Historically high temperatures, Mike. I overheard your mom talking about it."

"Overheard me talking about what?"

Michael looks up, while Sam and Fi turn—almost in unison—as Madeline exits through the back door, a tray of iced tea in her hands. When neither Sam nor Fi rushes to help her (at least they're consistent, Michael thinks to himself bitterly), he walks over and helps her place the glasses on the small fold out table set up between the other two.

"Thanks, Maddie." Sam noticeably has no issue exerting himself to pick up his drink. Before he can take a single sip, however, Madeline snatches it out of his hands and replaces it with a beer. It may just be the widest Michael has ever seen Sam smile. "We were just saying how insanely hot it is today—"

"—and how only a certified sociopath would expect his dearest and most loyal friends to perform manual labor in this kind of weather," Fi finishes for him. She flashes a seemingly innocent smile at Michael from over the rim of her own glass. He responds in kind with something between a frown and a grimace.

Meanwhile, Madeline takes in his disheveled appearance. "And what happened to you?" she demands, handing him the iced tea that had previously been Sam's. He takes it, grateful. "You're soaked!"

"Yeah, I know, Ma," he says calmly, trying to restrain himself. "I've been out here fixing the Charger, but it would go a lot faster if I had some help..."

She follows his accusatory gaze back to Sam and Fiona and gasps. "Well, don't look at them, Michael!" she blanches as if he were asking them to help him bury a body, which...would not be an unreasonable scenario in his line of work. "It's hot outside!"

Michael stares up at the sky as if willing God to grant him the patience he is so quickly losing.

—

Virgil and...his mom.

—

Virgil and...his mother.

—

His own mom and...Virgil.

—

He's gonna kill him.

—

...Right after he drains a quart of bleach.

—

"He's here."

Maricruz doesn't bother looking up from her register. Their manager gave them a strict deadline for completing their cash counts today. "Who's here?

"The guy I was telling you about, the one who's in here all the time?"

Suddenly, Maricruz remembers. "Oh, yeah! The dude with all the yogurt, right?"

Her co-worker, Olivia, nods, cracking her gum in the process. "He only ever buys weird stuff, like screws and duct tape, never food—well, except for the yogurt. And, occasionally, beer." She pauses, then: "I think he might be a serial killer."

Maricruz finally looks up and watches as the man examines a box of 45-watt lightbulbs. She frowns, then turns to Olivia. "This guy?" she wants to know. "The one who dresses like some rich kid's hot, investment banker dad, who sometimes attends a lot of backyard barbecues?”

"Yes."

They pause in their conversation as Olivia rings up an elderly woman purchasing a bag of spinach and last week's People magazine. She waves goodbye to her and then once she leaves through the store's front doors, she zeroes in on her friend. "Hold up—are you saying hot people can't be serial killers?"

Maricruz rolls her eyes. "No. Duh, of course not. We both watched the same Ted Bundy documentary.

"True. Wait...are we saying Ted Bundy was hot?"

"I am not having this conversation with you."

Maricruz rings up her own customer (single mom with two toddlers, tons of sugary cereals) before looking back at Olivia. "There's no way this guy's a killer. Didn't you say he sometimes shows up with his supermodel wife?"

"Well, yeah," Olivia admits, "but, hello, ever heard of Scott and Laci Peterson?" She blows a bubble with her gum than pops it with an audible crack. "Also, for the record, I've never actually seen hot-might-be-a-serial-killer dude with a ring, so I think the supermodel's just his girlfriend.

Maricruz watches him grab a different pack of lightbulbs off the top shelf for an elderly woman behind him and sighs wistfully. "It totally figures he has a girlfriend." She stares a little longer. "I mean, serial killer or not, look at his arms."

Suddenly, Olivia clears her throat super loudly, snapping her out of her reverie. "Oh, my God, Maricruz, shutupshutup. He's coming to my lane!"

She looks over, and sure enough, the guy walks over to Olivia's lane and empties the contents of his basket onto the belt: a pack of lightbulbs, zip ties, rope, and two packs of blueberry yogurt. Olivia shoots Maricruz a look over his shoulder that seems to say, See? I told you so!

"Hi," he says with a bright, exaggerated smile, oblivious to their non-verbal conversation. It takes a moment for Olivia to recover while he digs in his pocket for his wallet and to respond back like a normal, human person.

"Welcome to Milam's Market," she says, totally using her Customer Service Voice as she rings up his items. "Did you find everything you need today?"

"Hmm?" He looks up from his phone, and the frown he was momentarily wearing transforms easily back to the smile from earlier. He snaps the phone shut and looks back up at her, somewhat sheepish. "Oh, uh, yeah. Even got a great deal on yogurt, so..."

Olivia gives him his total, and before he grabs his bags, he thanks both of them and tells them to have a great day.

As they watch him leave, Maricruz turns to Olivia. "Are we sure the supermodel is his girlfriend and not just his, like, insanely hot sister?" she asks desperately as she cranes her head to follow his exit beyond the store's double sliding doors.

Olivia nods sadly. "Yeah."

—

She tells him it's not good enough, but he doesn't know what else to say. He's never been good at this. He even has the scars from Dublin and Germany to prove it.

He feels slightly self-conscious, standing there shirtless, reminding her that they were profoundly unhappy together, nearly a decade ago. Ten years is a long time, and he's not exactly getting any younger—neither is his physique, frankly. He hasn't let himself go, by any means, but there's definitely a softness to his lower stomach that wasn't there the last time they were, uh...they last time they were...together. Fi doesn't mention it, or even really seem to mind much, however, when her foot connects with it just a few moments later.

He knows he's in trouble when his first punch accidentally lands, and she looks up at him afterward with that familiar fire in her eyes, the one that's equal parts terrifying and enticing.

He knows he's a goner when that same peculiar mix sends a jolt way down past his (grudgingly soft) gut while she deftly traces her lips along the lines of his palm.

And he definitely knows he's in way over his head when she lets him pin her to the mattress—when their eyes lock, and he anchors her face in his hand, while her hips cant slightly to meet his own. Admittedly, his self-control grounds to dust long before then, but it's only when his lips capture hers that he finally does the one thing he has wanted to do since the CIA dumped him in that trashy hotel with her all those months ago—

He finally gives in.

#burnnoticeedit #burn notice week #my writing #my fic #burn notice fic #michael westen #fiona glenanne #sam axe #madeline westen #fiona x michael

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mikemortgage · 6 years ago

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How the shadow of the financial crisis shaped this portfolio manager’s strategy to insulate investors

Ryan Marr

In 2008, Ryan Marr felt invincible.

At 21, as a co-op student from Wilfrid Laurier University, he was handling millions of dollars in investments for Gluskin Sheff and Associates, a Toronto-based firm that had close to $4 billion in assets at the time.

For months, he felt he could do no wrong. His stock picks — a mix of REITs, Canadian and U.S. banks and tech companies such as Miranda Technologies and Evertz Technologies Ltd. — were all making significant gains. Investing was easy, he thought, and he could make a career of it.

January's dead-cat bounce fails to convince bearish investors, who say 2018 plunge is 'just the beginning'

Want to know how risky your portfolio is? How it performed in 2018 will give you a good idea

Three strategies to pick the right stocks for your RRSP, with a nod to Warren Buffett

When global markets were struck down by the financial crisis that year, Marr remembers standing in front of a computer screen that displayed the market’s real-time impact on the firm’s investments and seeing that they had lost more than $240 million in one day. That number only grew as the crisis deepened.

“I think I was so naive to the implications of losing that much money so quickly that I was more fascinated with the magnitude of the losses,” Marr, now 32, said from a conference room in his downtown Toronto office, which sits directly above a toy store.

“You could be the best stock picker in the world, but when markets fall, you’re going to lose money and there needs to be a portfolio management decision that helps protect against those losses,” he added.

Marr was still getting acquainted to Bay Street when he saw his first investments tumble in the most brutal market crash since the Great Depression. Now a seasoned investor, the experience appears to have moulded his market strategies.

Last year, Marr’s new firm, Waypoint Investment Partners, earned its clients a 6.2 per cent return in segregated accounts. By comparison, the S&P/TSX Composite Index lost close to 12 per cent. Most of those losses came in a brutal final quarter, but in that time, Waypoint’s defensive portfolios managed to remain around even.

The firm is now looking to raise $500 million for a new hedge fund — the All-Weather Portfolio — devoted to Marr’s strategy, which attempts to insulate investors from massive downturns like the one he watched in awe as a co-op student.

Marr’s approach is two-pronged. He invests in high-dividend yielding Canadian-listed stocks that are outside the resource sector and deploy conservative balance sheets. Mainstream investors likely wouldn’t recognize most of his picks, Marr admitted, because analysts don’t cover them. There are only 110 stocks that fit his profile. Of these, he chooses to only focus on between 20 and 25 companies, rotating two or three out from the larger pool each year.

Marr then uses the dividends from these investments to buy put options, usually ranging between two to six months on Canadian-listed securities both inside and outside his portfolio and on indexes such as the S&P/TSX60. Marr also writes some calls, but most of his emphasis is on downside protection.

The specific purchase decision is mostly based on pricing, he said, but he deploys a variety of puts ranging from at-the-money options to those with a strike price ten per cent below the current price. If the puts expire, he re-evaluates.

Should the market undergo a correction like it did at the end of 2018, the returns are safe, he said, because losses in the portfolio’s equities are offset by the returns from the puts. The strategy appears to be more well-suited for a market that is at the end of its natural cycle because when stocks are rising in a raging bull market, Marr is still buying put options.

If another investor with a basic equities strategy makes 10 per cent on their portfolio during this time, Marr would only make seven due to about three per cent of the returns going back to buying put options. The conversations Marr has with investors aren’t always the easiest. Not many are ready to give up a chunk of their returns for downside protection — until they see their investments plummet, that is.

“If the market were going up 10 per cent, they find it hard to understand, but when the markets go down 10 per cent, they all understand,” he said.

All it took for Marr to understand the same logic was one of the greatest market collapses in history.

Marr got his first job out of high school at Calloway Real Estate Investment Trust, now known as Smart Centres Real Estate Investment Trust, through a family connection. Working to pay his way through university, Marr was a summer intern but they let him make calls to put up collateral to receive funding for new projects. “I couldn’t believe how easy it was,” he said.

Securing $300 million was as simple as getting Merrill Lynch on the phone and sending over a list of properties that he believed were enough to collect that amount. “Next thing I knew, I was getting $300 million. I literally knew nothing,” he said.

During his next stop at Gluskin Sheff, where he’d stay for more than 10 years, Marr’s specialty quickly became investing in options. Working in long-short hedge funds, Marr began looking for an approach that didn’t involve shorting stocks in a low-interest-rates environment that made it difficult to reinvest the cash proceeds at high rates of return.

Options looked appealing because no one at Gluskin Sheff had really waded into that pool yet — firms were content to allow TD and BMO to dominate that market.

But the prices for buying put options were steadily declining and the feasibility of using them to hedge a portfolio grew more and more interesting. What Marr later learned was that others had developed the same idea as a way to look for additional yield that traditional fixed income portfolios weren’t providing. A “one-way trade” as he called it resulted in pushing the price of volatility down and making its appeal stretch market-wide.

While he paired his new options expertise with his fondness for high-dividend yielding stocks and began implementing the strategy for his personal investments, he never put it into practice at Gluskin Sheff. The reason, he said, is because the small-cap names he invests in “don’t necessarily have the scale to move the needle for a $9 billion asset management firm.” He didn’t even pitch the idea.

Marr preferred to leave the firm instead and see if he could make the strategy work on his own.

Perhaps his harshest criticism of the investment sector is one that’s constantly heard in Canada’s medical field: There are too many walk-in clinics and not enough family physicians or specialty clinics. Moving away from Gluskin Sheff would be akin to working in his own specialty clinic.

It didn’t take long for him to be recruited at Waypoint, which was then a multi-family office being run by another former Gluskin Sheff alum, the firm’s former chief investment officer, Bill Webb. Webb left Gluskin Sheff two years before Marr did, but the two stayed in touch, and in multiple phone calls, Marr would plant the seeds in Webb’s mind about a new strategy that combined volatility with high-dividend stocks.

Marr joined Waypoint in late 2017 as a partner and portfolio manager and immediately began to implement his strategies. The first results were positive, he said, and it didn’t take long for the firm to begin drawing attention from outside the partners’ family members. The creation of a fund was the next step in the evolution.

Most of Waypoint’s investors are in an older demographic and are saving for retirement. The strategy works for these people, he said, because it allows them to compound returns while avoiding tremendous losses. The investor he cannot help is one that has a significant amount of capital in play and is searching for growth in a “Hail Mary” investment, he said.

And yet Marr’s portfolio scored two victories last year that any investor would envy.

Pure Industrial REIT was Marr’s play on Amazon.com Inc’s good fortunes. While the tech giant would have been an albatross in Marr’s portfolio, he still wanted exposure to the online retail scene. Thinking that the logical play was to invest in the warehouse space that companies such as Amazon would require, Marr’s faith in Pure Industrial was rewarded when it was bought in January for $3.8 billion by Blackstone Group LP, a New York investment firm. His second big win came when Brookfield Infrastructure acquired Enercare, an Ontario-based company that rented water heaters to home owners, in an October deal for $4.3 billion.

Each of those gains ended up contributing 2.5 per cent to his portfolio, he said.

As he prepares to begin investing in the All-Weather Portfolio this month, the newest stock atop Marr’s list is Sienna Senior Living Inc., a company that owns and operates nursing homes across Ontario. The stock lost 15 per cent between January and December 2018 but its 5.28 per cent dividend lessened the blow.

Based on its past performance, Marr also knows what he’s likely to get out of this investment considering the stock has not hovered above or below the $14-$19 range in four years. The future, however, appears to be brighter. The stock is his way of betting on waves of baby boomers retiring and heading into retirement homes and long-term care facilities. The sector currently offers about 430,000 beds, according to Marr, but as baby boomers start to move in, his projections have that number growing up to one million.

Unlike his early days, these are now the types of investments that define his portfolio. The bets on risky technology companies are gone and in their place are stocks that should never leave him wondering how $100 million disappeared.

There are no recognizable names or exciting growth opportunities in his portfolio — and that’s how he likes it.

“Some people look at it as a bit boring — but boring is good for me,” he said.

from Financial Post http://bit.ly/2Sby2Fs via IFTTT Blogger Mortgage Tumblr Mortgage Evernote Mortgage Wordpress Mortgage href="https://www.diigo.com/user/gelsi11">Diigo Mortgage

#IFTTT #Financial Post

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londonlanded · 7 years ago

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Weeks 33 & 34

Happy Monday my people! The 12th saw me heading to our other Four Seasons hotel in the city, the one located close to the Tower of London, though this time I actually had to be there to work as opposed to heading over to play with a $22,000 toilet like I did in September. I spent the evening taking names and helping keep one of my managers calm as her entire client list descended upon the hotel, though the second half of the evening was actually dedicated more towards chatting to some of my old contacts from Toronto, and putting faces to names I'd been hearing since I worked at head office over a year ago!

The rest of the week was fairly quiet, though I had a few funny Four Seasons moments that are worth noting - first off, I'm on my own now, Marielle's last day before mat leave was Friday the 16th, which means I'm officially fending for myself now at work, there's officially no one to run to anymore and it' starting to feel like I'm actually supposed to be here for a reason! We had a little baby shower/goodbye party for her, the office is definitely going to miss her but considering how much trouble she was having just getting around, I don't think anyone's holding her departure against her.

Second thing to note was that Marielle's last day was actually my one-yer Four Seasons anniversary! I can't believe it, but my longest tenure at any company, anywhere, doing anything has been in hospitality with Four Seasons. They've sent me across the world, trusting me to do three different jobs in three different locations, two countries and one company. I can't believe that all this has come about because of 55 minutes on an airplane. Wanna talk about the butterfly effect?

Sunday morning, an amusing breakfast contrast when I shared a meal with Eve, my colleague at Park Lane. She ordered the big vegan breakfast, which was a massive plate of mushrooms, tomatoes, avocado, toast, margarine, beans and scrambled tofu. I ordered something that consisted of two fried eggs as a topping, ground sauteed chicken, and finished with chicken livers underneath. Vegan I'm not (yet...?).

Monday the 19th (continuing because it was yet another quiet week, leading up to my departure for LA on Friday), of note, it was freakin sunny! And light at the hour I leave the house (between 5:50 and 5:55 AM, with frightening consistency).

It was an easy last week in London, and while I had a couple of moments at work that elucidated just how new I am to the role I'm taking over, I survived the mess that was Monday - Thursday, and I officially began to consider myself on holiday. Headed home to pack, and before I knew it, I was headed to the airport Friday morning. Happened to spend a stop on the wrong train, wrongly assumed it was going to Heathrow until I heard otherwise so felt like a bit of a tool as I was dragging my stuff all over the Picadilly line but what can ya do. Unsurprisingly to anyone who's met up with me more than twice, I showed up at the airport ridiculously early, checked in, dropped my bag, and settled in for a few hours of waiting. I was completely calm until I approached secondary security, Americans are a touch more paranoid than the rest of us average Schengen zone bears so you've got to go through another checkpoint as you're approaching your gate. Normally I'd begrudge anything that was remotely indicative of special treatment of one country over another, but not that Friday. I showed up to the gate, opened my passport book, to find it not there. Before the dread could even set in, the woman behind the counter looked at me and said, 'wait, what's your last name? I think I recognize you,' and she did. She leaned over to her colleague's desk and picked my passport and boarding pass up and handed it to me, apparently I had left more than just my luggage at bag drop. Still, goes to show that I didn't need my passport a single time between Security and my gate. Thank god I didn't, because I can only imagine the panic that would have resulted from me losing the single-most important document I possess. Anyway, thank you USA border patrol/LHR security, crisis averted. Seriously though, wrong train and forgetting my passport, two moments that are so phenomenally unlike me that I actually stepped back and wondered if I was losing it. Jury's still out.

Before I settled into my seat, a disgruntled father had asked me to swap with him so he could sit with his family, and I wound up with a ton of legroom in spite of not being able to see any windows for the entire flight. It's a strange experience to see daylight for almost 24 hours straight, by the time the sun set in Los Angeles once I had arrived, it was almost 5AM London time, and I had been awake since 45 minutes after that hour. I was a little fuzzy, to say the least, but in spite of how I felt, I was pretty damn happy to walk outside and find myself in the roaring sunshine, shedding my raincoat and putting on my sunglasses after wiping the dust from their case. Even getting stuck in rush hour traffic didn't stop me from taking in every second of my first hour on the ground, my grogginess fell away as soon as I stepped out onto the street in front of my aunt and uncle's house. My four legged welcoming party took care of me until my cousin got home, and before long we were eating sushi and I was being shown her and her friend's latest dance from their class. In an hour on the ground, I already felt like I was back home.

Saturday morning, after my jetlag roused me at 4:45AM, I decided to go for an explorrun around the neighbourhood I've realized feels my second, third, fourth home? By mile #4, I was down by the ocean, and as I stopped to take a photo, I got asked by a group of runners to take one of them. Turns out they had just finished the LA marathon the week before, and after being their photographer briefly, they decided they needed to take one of me with them too before asking me to join them for part of their run!

You really never do know what'll happen when you leave the house in LA, though I can't say I was expecting to add a mile and a half to my already-ambitious workout. I suppose my body thought it was 4PM though, that definitely makes my 7AM departure somewhat less impressive.

Home for a shower and a quick sit-down in the sun before heading out on our first adventure - turns out that the word 'birding' means something different in Santa Monica, CA, than it does everywhere else in the world! When Estee told me she had an idea for us, I first thought she had developed the strangest fascination I could have imagined and asked how the hell she got interested in ornithology. It made a bit more sense once she showed me what she meant, turns out birds are electric scooters that have been set up to work on a pay-per-minute system, so you can go anywhere and everywhere accessible by scooter in the Santa Monica area. There are scooters parked everywhere you can think of, parking lots, street corners, sidewalks, every block you can find black birds parked and waiting. You download the app, upload your driver's license information (yep, mine worked even though it's Canadian), you scan the scooter's code and you're ready to go. Seriously amazing system, much to the chagrin of a lot of parents out there who are more than justified in their concern that it might not be the safest option, but I'm of the opinion that getting from A to B with your nose in your cell phone is just as, if not more dangerous than being forced to look at the world while rolling at 15 mph.

In any case, Tee showed me around her neighbourhood on wheels before stopping for lunch at one of her favourite cafes. On the way back to her house, we crossed paths with one of the hundreds of anti-gun protests that erupted across the USA that day. It's genuinely hard for me to believe that guns are such a massive problem in a country that's supposed to be as advanced as America is, but then again, I'm shocked by a lot of things here. Regardless, you didn't come here to read my opinions, but I'm happy to publicize that I don't think guns have a place in the hands of those who don't need them. And I don't think anyone who doesn't hunt for their own dinner could be considered someone in that position.

Saturday evening, I was reunited with a friend of mine I had met when I was 15 and we found ourselves at the same music camp in Michigan. Niki's born and bred LA, and my trip wouldn't be complete without a little bit of her crazy energy to remind me how special it is to be in her company. We drove down to the water because, well, when you live that close to the sea, you need to take advantage of it. The sun set over Los Angeles, and not even my jet lag could bring me down.

Sunday was on the quiet side, we spent some of the day at my grandmother's house and some of it outside in the sun, the day was fueled with sunshine and optimism but also a looooot of espresso. But also how cool are their espresso cups!!!

That evening, another sushi dinner (reliable choice and repetitive theme in my life apparently), and a movie with some of the other non-family family I’ve spent my years in LA growing up alongside. Every time I come back to LA, nothing changes yet everything does all at once - my cousins grow taller (though not taller than me, ha!), my family friends get older and go from being my cousin’s cousins’ friends to being friends of mine, boys I once knew, who taught me at age 12 to build robots on the floor of the upstairs bedroom, to men who are making movies and trying to crack the acting industry that LA is both infamous and famous for. I leave and I come back and at the same time, everything changes but at once feels more like mine, the less I am here the more it becomes a place I know. Very strange, not sure I even understand what I just said myself.

Next week, more sunny CA, some work, some play, and the continuation of this gift of a life I call mine. California is a silly place, but the good kind of silly. For all it's perceived vanity, it inspires within me a depth of feeling that is incongruent with the place it is reputed to be. But whatever feelings this place inspires, the one felt most deeply will always be gratitude.

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zeroviraluniverse-blog · 7 years ago

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Andrew McGlashan dissects New Zealand's pace attack of Southee, Wagner and Boult

Visit Now - http://zeroviral.com/andrew-mcglashan-dissects-new-zealands-pace-attack-of-southee-wagner-and-boult/

Andrew McGlashan dissects New Zealand's pace attack of Southee, Wagner and Boult

“Like the World XI at one end and Ilford 2nd XI at the other.”

That was Graham Gooch’s assessment of New Zealand during the 1986 series in England, when the difference between Richard Hadlee, the visitors’ best bowler, and the rest of the attack was somewhat stark. It rather backfired on Gooch, as New Zealand completed their first Test series win in England, but the premise was true: Hadlee took 19 wickets at 20.52 and no one else in the side took more than six.

It’s different these days. While Hadlee’s record of 431 Test wickets is unlikely to be ever overtaken by a fellow countryman – not least because the volume of Test cricket for New Zealand only seems to be heading one way – the pace attack they currently have can rightly claim to be their finest ever.

Tim Southee, Trent Boult and Neil Wagner have formed a formidable trio over the last four years. They first played together in 2013 and have joined forces in 24 Tests, of which New Zealand have won 13. It was in the 2013 home summer against England that the attack really started to be forged. New Zealand should have won that series but couldn’t get past Matt Prior in Auckland.

ESPNcricinfo Ltd

Individually their numbers are impressive: Southee 208 wickets at 31.45, Boult 200 wickets at 28.56, and Wagner 144 wickets at 27.87. In terms of matches, Wagner was the second fastest New Zealand bowler to 100 wickets, in 26 matches, one slower than Hadlee.

The averages of Southee and Boult are, unsurprisingly for swing bowlers, better at home than away. However, Wagner, New Zealand’s battering ram, has almost identical figures – 27.91 at home, 27.79 overseas.

Southee, a skilful swing bowler, who of late has developed the art of cutters with some success, is the senior figure in the attack. It is ten years since he launched his Test career with a memorable debut against England in Napier, taking 5 for 55 in the first innings before smiting 77 off 40 balls, albeit in a heavy defeat. The runs were a slog, and that is basically how he has continued with the bat, but the raw skills he showed with the ball as a 19-year-old have been honed.

It was not until around 2012, though, that he cemented his place. There were two performances on the subcontinent where he stood tall, and they remain high points in his career. In Bangalore in August that year, he took 7 for 64, and then in Colombo three months later, he took eight wickets in the match to help secure a series-levelling victory. The latter was also one of the first occasions that he and Boult combined effectively.

Wagner: the man who gets batsmen out of their comfort zone Getty Images

“He was very young, he hadn’t actually grown into his body,” Shane Jurgensen, the current New Zealand bowling coach, who also had a stint with the team between 2008 and 2010, says. “He’s actually got taller – it’s funny, when I saw him back then, I used to be taller than him. Then when I saw him after four years, I’m looking up at him. He was definitely a late developer into his body in terms of his physical strength, and when that came through to be able to bowl for the long periods in Test cricket – he always had that beautiful wrist – it was just about time before his body could deal with Test bowling.”

Last season there was a collective intake of breath when Southee was dropped for the first time in five years to allow New Zealand to play two spinners against South Africa in Dunedin. Due to a combination of that, injury and paternity leave at the start of this season, Southee has only played six of New Zealand’s last 12 Tests. He will be keen to reaffirm his standing in this series.

Southee is the senior man but Boult has become the star. He can sit alongside any left-armers of his generation and could well be considered his country’s second-greatest quick. He began his career in 2011, the debut coming in one of New Zealand’s most memorable victories, when they squeezed home by seven runs against Australia in Hobart. A year later the aforementioned Colombo Test followed, and in March 2013 he claimed 6 for 68 against England at Eden Park.

“Trent is naturally quite an aggressive bowler – he’s very competitive and he’s just a bit quicker than you think at times,” Jurgensen says. “He’s gone from someone who was bowling 130-135kph and now he’s probably 135-145kph, which allows him to have a bit more penetration with the new ball, more bounce.”

There is a healthy internal rivalry between the pair, although Jurgensen says it’s often as much to do with their batting than bowling. “Tim and Trent are pretty close to each other in terms of wickets they have taken.”

ESPNcricinfo Ltd

Wagner has a better average than both Southee and Boult, but it has been a tougher path to acceptance for him. From 2012-13 he went through a strong run of 11 Tests that brought 45 wickets, but he then played just two of the next 13, one of those appearances helping New Zealand to a series victory in the West Indies. He returned with nine wickets in two Tests against Sri Lanka, before again being left out against Australia in Wellington.

On his recall, in the next match, which was lit up by Brendon McCullum’s 54-ball hundred in his final Test, something else significant happened, though New Zealand lost heavily: Wagner took 6 for 106 in the first innings, all with the short ball.

The short-pitched attack, as dissected in this piece by Sidharth Monga 15 months ago, continues to be Wagner’s modus operandi. He has become New Zealand’s bounce specialist. Most recently he dismantled West Indies at the Basin Reserve with a career-best 7 for 39, six of the wickets coming from the short delivery. It was an indictment of the batting, for sure, but it showed that Wagner certainly knows how to work over a batsman.

“His bouncer is quite difficult to play at times because of the skiddy nature of his bowling, and as the game wore on, the bouncer became quite a dangerous delivery,” Jurgensen explains. “The whole idea was to get the batsmen off the front foot, change the way they play, get them confused over the height the ball was coming through. When that delivery became one that was taking – or creating – wickets, over time it became his role in the team: get batsmen out of their comfort zone.”

“It’s the trajectory of the ball, the way it comes off the pitch. What actually happens is that one bouncer that lands on a 10-12m length will come through at ribcage height, then the next one will come through at head height. It’s very hard for a batsman to know what kind of shot to play.”

Shane Jurgensen on New Zealand’s fast bowlers: “I think it’s quite good how they all complement each other” Getty Images

The New Zealand attack may not have the fire and fury that England faced in Australia, but in the view of Jurgensen they are a very smart trio, making the most of what they have – whether that be Southee developing his offcutters, Wagner’s pounding of the pitch, or Boult using the angles of a left-arm swing bowler.

“It’s about adapting quickly, and that’s something we’ve been able to do quite quickly, especially in red-ball cricket. We see and learn, the guys try things. They take it upon themselves, that’s credit to the players. We might see things and suggest, question, challenge, and they buy into things.”

The three are different in how they find their success, and they are also different in how they deal with it when things don’t go right.

“Tim has always been a bit of joker, he always assesses things and talks about it, but he’s quick to move on,” Jurgensen says. “Trent is quiet, very open about where he’s not got it right. And Wags, well Wags, he wears his heart on his sleeve – what you see on the field is a more toned-down version.

“I think it’s quite good how they all complement each other. They will assess and adapt, how can they get better.”

Southee (29) and Boult (28) should be in their prime, and though Wagner (32) is a touch older, he plays only Tests. They ought to have a few years ahead of themselves as a unit. How many Tests they will play remains to be seen. New Zealand’s schedule is being trimmed; it’s the white ball that pays the bills.

It makes these two matches against England even more important for them. They are facing a side who have lost nine of their last 12 Tests overseas. There may never be a better chance to secure just a second series win at home (and fourth overall) against them. The challenge of facing Mitchell Starc, Josh Hazlewood and Pat Cummins required more courage, but the next few weeks will be another test of the England batsmen’s skills.

#Cricket

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kristanyeo492984-blog · 7 years ago

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ftv zeba - Things You Won't Like About Ftv Sexy Models And Things You Will

For years it had been a thorn in my heart , but since few days it has been like a beutiful thing a beutiful romance , may be i have matured enough. dad Wanted me to go to the city college which was 12 hrs train journey , and there was a entrance exam for that for 5 days , dad was busy so he had booked fashion tv sex images tickets for me and mom . So thought of sharing this with you , its a beutiful thing its about my mom who had 5 days of getway from the household life and i am sure she must be relishing beutiful memories.

So dont get bored already and hit the back button this is beutiful but also very erotic i sometimes still masturbate thhinging of it. I will be elaborating this and will compile in parts because i would like to register every moment of it. Really some times i used to wonder mom could have easily married a handsome more romantic rich man. i am from india , small town , small family me mom and dad, dad was working as a bank manager , mom was a housewife married early , spent most of the time doing household work and her spare time included wathching tv. we adjusted and setteled mom liked the window seat so i gave it to her. Mom was medium height, fair with not plump not skiny, beutiful middleages figure , she had beutiful sensual face , especially her lips and nose,her bust was perfect and she had not gained extra fat , she used to wear beautifull colored sarees that went with her skin and her blouses were were in perfect shape not too low cut her navel was sligtly exposed just to show a small glips of her fair tummy , men used to give her the looks , and scan her. they settled on the seat opposite to us. at next station man about 48-50 and his daughter around 15 enterd with their luggage, he was dressed in jeans and t-shirt good looking, and looked much younger for his physic. She was 42 when this happened , i had passed matriculation exam and was 15 yrs old , and the ileana tight process of searching and securing admission for colleges had begun , india is populated country and there is cut throat competition every where. the man took a newspaper and started reading. Mom was very beutiful but conservative woman, though she used to keep her self moderately fashionable in housewives term , like cutting and shaping her hair , doing eyebrows, facials etc for functions and all, and she did like to flaunt her beauty , every woman does. Mom hesitated she was not so practical about things most of the time she spen was in house hold work , she was well educated but being a non working woman she had not developed that practicality , and she had never gone out with out dad , but there was no other option now , dad was busy he was always busy and off late spent very little time with me and mom. i had taken the side birt and layed on the pillow and started studying. the daughter took her walk man and went on the upper birth and started reading a book. so the day came and we boarded the train ,the train was almost empty since it was not the holiday season, our compartment had a older couple seated on side lower birth. he asked her where we were heading , she told him about my entrance , he laughed and said they were on the same endeavor. the daughter on the birth had gone to sleep it was only 7 0 clock. his glipse were getting obvious with a little more time, mom looked at him once and saw he staring at her , she adjusted her saree and looked out , he turned his head away immediately. he got up and waked his daughter up she came down and he told her about us , he called me , i went from the side birth and we were sitting together. i took my entrace prepartion books alison and lia started studying. hi all this little incidence happened 15 years back and i have still kept a secret untill now. If you have any inquiries about wherever and how to use fashion tv sex images, you can get in touch with us at our web-site. after a while the daughter went back to the birth and i to the side birth and started studying. Mom laughed and said its ok, she must be intelligent he lauged it off, i saw mom getting more comfortable talking to im now she started asking about his native , how often does he come to india . he introduced his daughter to me ,he asked why my dad had not come i told him about his busy scedule ,he looked at mom and said not to worry he will take care of all arrangements for us hotel bookings and droping us to the exam hall every day. Mom used to turn on talking about her college days her professors and all , this made her looose all her inhibitions and their conversation went on about the proffesors and collegues and all. The ter man said your son is studios look at ny daughter she doesn even care. After a while mom got up to take her bag from the rack above but couldnt reach it , the man immediately got up and reached and gave her the back , mom muttered a thankyou and gave a smile he smiled back saying you ftvgirls photo are welcome. it came out he was from our native place and he studied in the same college as mom . After a while i saw the man had stopped reading the newspaper and looking out the window , both mom and him were oppsosite each other on the window seats and he was having a glimpse of mom every now and then , mom was a beautiful woman and men used to stare at her and i used to get uncomfortable going out with mom for shopping and all especiall when dad was not around , and this was a first time were going alone for 5 days. there a brief silence and then mom said , i think i better sleep , other wise i will drowsy tomorrow, he said ya sure even i am about to doze. so we ate and he commented to mom that she is a wonderful cook , mom commented no , your wife must me cooking better, he said with a sad voice that his wife expired 5 yrs back , mom was taken back , it must have been difficukt for the girls , he said yes but his sister has filled in the role and taken good care of her daugld hhter , i feel sorry for mydaughter more he his daughters shoulder, we finished and i went up on the upper birth to sleep so did shridhars daughter, mom and shridhar still sat, he said he will book rooms for us in same hotel as theirs so it is comfortable to go to exams together, mom said thankyou and said its so nice we met i was worried ftv kristin babes gallery how a dumb housewife like me can manage this. Shridhar said , don t call yourself dumb, i dont know why housewifes call themseleves dump they just put so much in the lifes of their husband and children no working woman can do that, their was silence and mom said, it must have been difficult for you , he said yes its always difficult for a man with out a woman, life becomes so painfull sometimes , forget it . Dinner time arrived and mom called me , she took out what she had packed and offered them ,shridhar said not to bother they will order from the pantry, mom insisted not to eat outside and it unhealthy and that she always packs more, she said their is enough for all of us. For triffle resons i have not slept in my life , and i was so curious about things i always went after. No mom will tell her son. This particular incidence is no different had i been a normal man i wouldnt have chased what was to come and wouldnt have ever known about this , i mean 99 percent of the people dont know that their mom slept with someone else in marriage. well i couldnt sleep and waited for him to come i saw him come finally he sat down at his seat and stared at mom he stared for a while then he got up and came close to her , i bent my neck to see what he is doin and ready to shout if any thing absurd , he took the ends of her shawl adjusted it coverd her and went to sleep. I confirmed he was a good man, perhaps lonely and may be he liked mom , but as a good man he behaved knowing she is a married woman , i felt no doubt he was a good man. Mom got her shawl and went to sleep on the lower birth , he turned of the light and went to sleep on the opposite lower birth, he closed his eyes and seemed like going to sleep , i couldnt sleep because from top i caould easily see him , after a while i saw him getting up and took his bag from the rack , from the bag he took out what looked like a bottle of booze and went in to the corrider i got up and went behind him from ftv frv girl samantha a distance i saw him drinking and smoking i went back on my birth i saw mom was sleeping , her shwal had come down and her saree pallu had come down her beutiful face and her mountain of womanly breasts were showing , i couldnt wake her up and now my mind raced , shridhar will come drunk and see mom , god i couldnt sleep . he told his name was sridhar , she said she kind of recollects him as a senior. he told us he works in australia and come come specifically for his daughters admission. i climbed up on my birth and waited , i was over cautious and dirty minded all my life , part of the reason i think now the reson i havent grown up in life. I had mixed feelings never seen mom like that , getting so comfortable in no time , he was a good looking charming guy , nice shoulders and built thick trimmed mustache , mom was beutiful ,any mans desire, until she resisted, but here it was like a bolt sudden it was not much just a formal conversation but , to me, had never seen mom like that talking to a stranger so freeely.

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buddyrabrahams · 7 years ago

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Each NFL team’s best playmaker

If you’re going to win games in the NFL, you need to have playmakers. These are the guys who can turn a game around with a big play and lift the team when they need it most.

What makes a playmaker? It can be anything, really. A quarterback who can make the pinpoint throw under pressure; the running back who can burst through a hole for a huge play; the wide receiver who can make the spectacular catch for that big touchdown. They don’t even need to be offensive — defenders who have that ability to get a big pick or blow up a play in the backfield qualify too.

Here’s a look at the best playmaker on each NFL team.

Arizona Cardinals — David Johnson, RB

Few players in the league are as skilled or versatile as Arizona’s third-year running back. Johnson truly took over the role in 2016, rushing for 1,239 yards and 16 touchdowns. He was no slouch through the air, either, with five catches per game. In total, no player had more yards from scrimmage than Johnson. Even bigger numbers may be in store in 2017.

Atlanta Falcons — Julio Jones, WR

Quarterback Matt Ryan has an argument here for the first time in his career, but for the Falcons, it’s still all about Jones, who is one of the premier receivers the league has to offer. While his 2016 didn’t quite match his lofty 2015 numbers, Jones still racked up over 1,400 yards. He averaged over 100 yards receiving per game for the fourth consecutive season, which is no small feat. Want big plays? The star receiver averaged 17 yards per catch for the NFC champions. And now the team wants him to get more touchdowns.

Baltimore Ravens — Terrell Suggs, LB

The Ravens have a long tradition of elite defensive playmakers, and Suggs fits right in with that. He’s still their best, even at 34. He was down to eight sacks in 2016, but it’s only natural that as Suggs gets older, his snap counts will decline a bit to conserve him for a full season’s worth of action. He’s still an elite disruptor.

Buffalo Bills — LeSean McCoy, RB

After an underwhelming first season in Buffalo, Shady proved in 2016 that he is still Shady. McCoy surpassed the 1,000 yard plateau for the fifth time in his career. His 13 touchdowns were also the second-best mark he’s put up in his entire career. Though he was mentioned in some trade rumors over the summer, Shady has stayed in Buffalo and remains one of the league’s shiftier runners.

Carolina Panthers — Cam Newton, QB

We know, we know — the sequel to Newton’s MVP 2015 season left a whole lot to be desired. However, Newton battled through injuries, likely leading to his numbers decreasing across the board. When at the peak of his powers, there are few, if any, NFL playmakers who can do more than Newton can. Even in a comparatively bad year he threw for 3,500 yards and scored 24 total touchdowns. During his MVP season, he produced 45 touchdowns and helped carry Carolina to the Super Bowl.

Chicago Bears — Jordan Howard, RB

Not much has gone right for the Bears over the last few years, but nabbing Howard in the fifth round of the 2016 Draft will definitely go down as a bright spot. While it took the rookie from Indiana a bit of time to secure the starting role, he ultimately ended up with 1,313 yards and six touchdowns. He averaged 5.2 yards per attempt, an impressive tally for a rookie back on a bad team. He also mixed in about 20 yards receiving per game.

Cincinnati Bengals — A.J. Green, WR

Previously a model of consistency, 2016 was the first season of Green’s six-year career that he failed to surpass 1,000 yards receiving. It was through no fault of his own, as he fell just 36 yards short despite playing only ten games in an injury-shortened season. As long as he stays healthy, he’ll comfortably return to the 1,200-1,500 yard range he lived in prior to 2016 and give Andy Dalton a top-notch offensive weaon.

Cleveland Browns — Myles Garrett, DE

Is it a bit presumptive to put a rookie at this spot? Perhaps, but when you go 1-15, that means you typically don’t have a ton of great talent on your team. The Browns have some playmakers like Kenny Britt, Corey Coleman and Isaiah Crowell, though Garrett figures to be more of an impact-maker than all of them. In true Brown form, Garrett is already out with an injury, but he will return from an ankle sprain to prove why he was the No. 1 pick in the draft.

Dallas Cowboys — Dak Prescott, QB

Wide receiver Dez Bryant may have the best pure skills, but the numbers haven’t matched the reputation for the last two years. Meanwhile, Prescott made himself impossible to ignore with a successful rookie season. There was no way Dallas should have gone 13-3 after losing Tony Romo in preseason, and yet Prescott, with his 23-4 touchdown-to-interception ratio and 3,667 yards passing, made it happen. His success has the Cowboys now saying Prescott deserved to be their top pick last year.

Denver Broncos — Von Miller, LB

Still one of the league’s most dominant defensive players, Miller piled up another 13.5 sacks in 2016. He is without question an elite defender who can blow up any play, and he’s established himself as a quarterback’s nightmare. Just to drive home this point, he has the ink to prove it.

Detroit Lions — Matthew Stafford, QB

The newly-minted highest paid quarterback in NFL history has been pretty much the entire Detroit offense, especially since Calvin Johnson retired. A 4,000-yard passer for the sixth consecutive season, Stafford has learned how to take care of the ball and cut down on his interceptions, too, and he has a huge arm to make big plays. He is the best quarterback the Lions have had in decades.

Green Bay Packers — Aaron Rodgers, QB

There is no bigger home run play in the NFL than the Hail Mary, and Rodgers has mastered the art. That’s just one asset that one of the league’s elite quarterbacks brings to the table. Rodgers is coming off a season in which he threw a league-best 40 touchdowns. And even if you think you have him stopped, Rodgers is an impressive scrambler and even rushed for four scores a season ago.

Houston Texans — J.J. Watt, DE

After a season in which Watt barely played due to injury, it’s easy to forget just how good he is. Few in the league are better when it comes to sacking quarterbacks and blowing up plays in the backfield. Watt has two 20-sack seasons to his name, and he even saw some action as a goal-line receiver in 2014. Nobody is more important to the Texans than Watt.

Indianapolis Colts — T.Y. Hilton, WR

As great as quarterback Andrew Luck is, Hilton is one of the NFL’s best deep threats. His 1,448 receiving yards led the NFL in 2016, and he added six touchdowns to go with it. Skilled and speedy, Hilton is a big-play threat every time he lines up out wide, and has developed a very good rapport with Luck.

Jacksonville Jaguars — Allen Robinson, WR

Leonard Fournette and Jalen Ramsey may yet become elite playmakers for the Jaguars, but for now, Robinson is the most accomplished skill player on the team. He suffered in 2016 as opponents zeroed in on him, but his 2015 stands as a testament to what he’s capable of — 1,400 receiving yards and 14 touchdowns.

Kansas City Chiefs — Tyreek Hill, WR

When you think of big playmakers in the NFL, Hill is an athlete who may come to mind first these days. As a rookie last season, he scored 12 touchdowns, impressively finding the end zone in almost every way. He had six touchdown catches, three rushing TDs, two punts returned for a score and one kickoff return for a touchdown. One of the fastest athletes in the league, Hill is a threat to take it to the house any time he touches the ball.

Los Angeles Chargers — Philip Rivers, QB

The Chargers have added a lot more talent in the offensive skill positions recently, but their linchpin remains their veteran quarterback. 2016 was Rivers’s eighth 4,000-yard season and fifth 30-touchdown season. And while he’s 35 now, the Chargers are still as reliant on him as ever. Someday that will have to change, but for now, the Chargers will and should ride Rivers, who is the best they’ve got.

Los Angeles Rams — Aaron Donald, DT

To be clear, the Rams will need Donald to eventually show up if he’s going to justify his spot on this list. If he does, though, he’ll be one of the NFL’s elite defensive linemen. He has 28 sacks in his first three NFL seasons. So long as he’s on the field, there is every reason to believe he will continue to improve.

Miami Dolphins — Cameron Wake, DE

All Wake did at the age of 34 was return from an injury and rack up 11.5 sacks in only 11 starts. He was the standout on a slowly improving Miami defensive line. The challenge for him now will be keeping up a high level of play after turning 35. He still has the skills, he just needs to stay healthy.

Minnesota Vikings — Everson Griffen, DE

One of Minnesota’s most reliable defensive presences, Griffen is both effective against the passing and running games. His sack total was down a bit in 2016 to just eight, but he’s still an extremely disruptive defender who earns the nod here until the team adds more offensive playmakers — or gets Teddy Bridgewater back.

New England Patriots — Tom Brady, QB

Tom Brady is the Patriots, and the Patriots are Tom Brady. It has never much mattered who he has around him, who gets hurt, who’s left, who arrived. He remains remarkably consistent, and he’s coming off a 2016 season in which he threw 28 touchdowns and just two interceptions in 12 games. There’s no reason to think he’ll be slowing down anytime soon, even if the Patriots are thing at the receiver position.

New Orleans Saints — Drew Brees, QB

Brees is pretty much the favorite to lead the NFL in passing yardage every season. Part of that is due to the offensive scheme he plays in, but most of it is simply because he’s a great quarterback. His 5,208 passing yards in 2016 was his highest tally since 2011, and he added 37 more touchdowns to his career total as well. He’s one of the smartest quarterbacks in football, and he is still more than capable of making the huge play.

New York Giants — Odell Beckham Jr., WR

Let’s keep this simple. There is no other wide receiver in the NFL, no matter how good, who is going to be making a catch like this one in a game anytime soon. The Giants have had to answer a lot of questions about Beckham’s focus and temperament, but for a talent like him, it’s all entirely worth it. There isn’t a more exciting player in the NFL.

New York Jets — Muhammad Wilkerson, DE

It’s an indictment of the Jets that their best playmaker had 4.5 sacks in 2016, but there’s a higher ceiling in there. Wilkerson had a fine 2015, a year in which he collected 12 total sacks, but took a big step back last season and is now facing major questions about his fitness and commitment. The Jets lack skill players. Wilkerson should be the best they have — if he can be disciplined and live up to his potential.

Oakland Raiders — Khalil Mack, DE/LB

Oakland’s monstrous hybrid sacrificed four sacks in 2016, but was better across the board. Eleven sacks is nothing to sneeze at. And what Mack was able to do in other departments was even more impressive — five forced fumbles and a pick six. Mack was a defensive wrecking ball for Oakland and should remain one in 2017 — in fact, he has even loftier ambitions. Giving Mack these honors when he’s on a team that also boasts Derek Carr, Amari Cooper and Marshawn Lynch is saying a lot, but he deserves it.

Philadelphia Eagles — Carson Wentz, QB

There are a lot fewer questions about the Eagles’ decision to trade up for Wentz now than there were a year ago following a very solid rookie season for the QB. Wentz’s touchdown tally was a bit low at 16, but that can improve with some better receivers, and 3,782 passing yards is nothing to scoff at. He should only continue to progress, especially now that Philly has given him some quality receiving options.

Pittsburgh Steelers — Antonio Brown, WR

Le’Veon Bell certainly has a claim here, but in terms of big play ability, Brown is the best. After two truly remarkable seasons, his numbers were down last year to a comparatively modest 1,284 yards. He still pulled in 12 touchdowns, although his season was ultimately overshadowed by some self-imposed playoff drama. He’ll look to be back to his very best in 2017.

San Francisco 49ers — Carlos Hyde, RB

The 49ers have a dearth of skill players, but Hyde looks to be one on the rise. Ultimately, he may not be long for San Francisco, but the third-year running back played in a career-high 13 games in 2016, scoring six touchdowns and racking up 988 yards. Provided he gets regular carries, 2017 might see him take another step forward.

Seattle Seahawks — Russell Wilson, QB

Wilson’s star seems to have dimmed since he led the Seahawks to consecutive Super Bowl appearances in 2014 and 2015. In certain aspects, his 2016 was better than ever — his 4,219 passing yards were a career-high. His touchdowns were down, though, and interceptions were up. Still, along with Cam Newton, Wilson is the NFL’s best dual-threat quarterback, and the key to Seattle’s success.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers — Jameis Winston, QB

Winston entered the league with two straight 4,000-yard seasons, and as the Buccaneers have given him more weapons, he looks poised for a real breakout in 2017. He improved to 28 passing touchdowns in 2016, though his rushing touchdown tally dropped from six to one. He’s still a gifted quarterback who can pass and run, and Bucs fans have every reason to be excited for what the future holds.

Tennessee Titans — Marcus Mariota, QB

Mariota looks like he’s on his way to stardom. A 26-9 touchdown-to-interception ratio in his second NFL season is demonstrative of the talent the Titans have here. He’s a threat with his legs as well, as the mobile Mariota has four rushing touchdowns in his NFL career. He, too, has a chance to take a big step forward in 2017.

Washington Redskins — Terrelle Pryor, WR

A college quarterback, Pryor has evolved into a remarkable athlete. That background makes him useful in so many roles. In 2016, he finally broke out with a 1,000 yard receiving season and four touchdowns. Now with Washington, Pryor is a versatile playmaker who can be deployed in several roles. He is a threat to change a game, and many are expecting a Pro Bowl season for him.

from Larry Brown Sports http://ift.tt/2wNLzrk

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iftekharsanom · 8 years ago

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Top 7 Teen Movies

When you grow up, your heart dies - or so they say. Here's the proof: Heathers Juno, critic of The Guardian and Observer select the 10 best movies for teenagers. Blackboard Jungle

Under the name "Evan Hunter", also known as a crime writer Ed McBain - Blackboard Jungle the early age of the labeled teen offender - it was based on his own experience as a teacher in the Bronx. In London movie Brooks attracted crowds of Stuffed Boys, cut theater seats, danced in the aisles and actually started a riot. The reason for this so shocking behavior was not so much the content of the film, which is now a sober 12 rating, but achieved due to the use of Bill Haley and the early rock'n'roll comets, Rock Around the Clock, who played in polarization . Today is the least shocking aspect of a crime-thrusting film with a knife, drugs and even rape in the state school system, but at the time it was a touchstone for disgruntled young people, regardless of whether Haley was a white musician traveler in Its 30 years and the music has already been a year old. Almost 60 years later, he still has a hit, with Richard Dadier Glenn Ford (first called to enable students to call the Jive to talk to him "Daddy-O") struggle to control his students in the North fiction manual school. Others try and fail, such as the unfortunate Mr. Edwards, whose valuable 78s are crushed by his class consists of an act of symbolic and even disturbing rebellion, but I hope that as African Americans Gregory Miller, what eventually patriotic authority Dadier replied. But for all its war morality, Vic Morrow, the evil Artie West, is the true anti-hero of the film, dressed in leather and meets the logical heir Wild One, Marlon Brando, two years before. Superbad

With certified hits The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up, the Judd Apatow Express was already rolling at full speed when Superbad, directed a comedy in the younger audience, appeared on the movie screens. Co-written by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg (designated the main characters to be), and produced by Apatow, he liked this movie more with a hoarse Partycrowd. The image is dominated by three young actors who were not then the stars they are now. Evan (Michael Cera), Seth (Jonah Hill) and Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) are high school graduates getting ready for a final party before college. Evan and Seth no longer see each other when the first outing to the prestigious Dartmouth while the latter attended a public university; Seth Groll scattered around the action, but now he's eyeing sex. If he offers through the object of his alcohol affection to a party held so the numbers he is sleeping with her. This is where the drippy Fogell enters: having a fake identity secured mis-adapted under the pseudonym of McLovin, is the key is to plan Seth. With its notes and 24-hour melancholy, the film takes a similar American Graffiti and Dazed and Confused terrain, but is distinguished by a Post-Porky Sensitivity Hallows celebrates simultaneously pre-PC smuttiness. Much of the humor derives from the assessments of the chauvinistic Sex by inexperienced hero. (Adult, I no longer sophisticated. A Rogen police admits that police work is nothing like the serious coroner CSI procedural having been carried out, can be expected. "When I joined the force," he laments, "I semen believed oftentimes "). Goodwill mocking the experts, the details of the accompaniment and direction of Greg Mottola exuberant makes the image almost irresistible, although the pace of broad-fashion and humor is as sexist as a hope for the production of Apatow Kids

No kids at school wisecracking here. In fact there is no mention of the school. Not that many jokes, either come to think of it. Instead, Larry Clark's raw, Drama bracing reminds us securely and artificially that most movies are teenagers. The boys were dangerous: an open honest representation of what modern teenagers actually do (those who grew up in New York, anyway). It was a heavy blow to the chops of a complacent society, who thought she had made all the rebels in the 1950s, and was convicted by demonstrators and politicians. But as The Wild One and Rebel Without a Cause, the film showed a terrible chasm between generations of young and old. The last only demographic number in history. While they work, their children are drunk, they are stoned, fun, fight, steal them and more sex than they did, yet clumsy, insecure and people who do not particularly like. Worse than all this danger sign, but the general lack of concern or compassion for the characters, especially Leo Fitzpatrick's anti-hero is Telly's terrible reckless pursuit of "de-virginise" younger girls and neglected joint has its successes. With the spectrum of AIDS lurking in the shadows, a happy ending is even more in the distance. But there is nothing particularly sensational about the way children have gone through these adolescent lives. The treatment is more like a documentary: on the wall with the camera (which incidentally by the indecent sometimes), the actual sites of the road, unstructured scenes and dialogue really conversation - the latter in Harmony Korine, largely through Of the internal work of a writing, as he was 19 years old. That's the thing, do not get the kids credit for the season: it's done. It is a work of fiction, but the benefits are so little is known, is not included as an "actor", although many of the players followed the decent career, such as Fitzpatrick, Chloe Sevigny, Rosario Dawson and Korine. In short, the will of a job done a little too well. 10 Things I Hate About You

The philosophy behind this lively teen comedy looks like the Shrew the Clueless made Emma do. That is, take the skeleton of a literary classic and dressed in the threads of high school. Although the film Clueless is not, still quite blinding Bobby. Shakespeare's transplant into a youthful atmosphere of the United States in recent times is the least successful part of it: It is not something that a strident touch in the plot, in which a young man told his father that he would not allow graduation date, until the Abrasive ground older sister Kat (Julia Stiles). This sets up a system of younger brother suitors born of a legal soil, Patrick (Heath Ledger), is paid uncontrollably seduce Kat. But that's a small detail. To which we respond in 10 things are visual and verbal, energetic rhythm and charismatic performances: Stiles and the last Ledger may be known for more intense films, but it is doubtful that we do not always get more on the screen than I do here. Writer Karen McCullah Lutz and Kirsten Smith, keeping things bright will not character for a long time without toxic replica or a sharp zinger their lips anymore. If someone has hit a dry spot, there is always a language to see. "I know you can be overwhelmed and dominated" reflects a girl, "but can it alone" overwhelmed "? Everyone here is united and evoked by their idiosyncratic vocabulary, and the viewer is also enriched by phrases such as" (The brain area where the images are saved as desirable partner for stimulants) or a new definition for the word "backup." For the cast includes Joseph Gordon-Levitt and as the father of the Kat, the magnificent Larry Miller (who was an early contender for George Costanza's game at Seinfeld.) If the rhythm flags, still pick-me-ups like the wonderful accounting show karaoke with the zeal of Steve's early start Martin is held. Juno

Written by an ex-stripper and the issue of student pregnancy approaching - the downfall of all middle-class parents - Jason Reitman's film is a hilarious comedy, played well, that a star made night Ellen Page as the title character. Much if talked about its pro-life nuances in its release, but in reality the situation is Juno is something of a MacGuffin, a premise that a smart, wise to the world and its future can look 16 years. Juno begins with his heroine to realize that a baby will have, the result of a loose ball with his best friend Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera, in his own weediest). Instead of finishing, Juno decides the child for adoption to give attributes to the Loring (Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner), a couple who seem to be in tune - especially participate their love for indie rock and horror movies (although their tastes are quite Early, even by today's standards). The latter is twee and well marked, but what Juno is refreshing, without dismantling the smart edge. In the end, she is certainly older and wiser, but what Juno learns more, do, prepare for disappointment: the adult world not Disney World of complexity is what he seems to think. The use of indie rock still dark have hampered its potential as a mainstream success, but now that only its charm is given lo-fi and in a sense, it is probably useful because Juno really is not aligned world, only those who think Who knew everything grew and learned the hard way that even if they know everything, nobody likes a smartass. Clueless

"As if!" — "I totally paused!" — "Minor ducats…" — "Let's do a lap before we commit to a location!" — "I was surfing the crimson wave!" — "Did my hair get flat?"If Clueless was published in 1995, it was not just sensational and intelligent fun - carefree, the opposite of its title was. Insinuating indirect, clever and funny: writers director Amy Heckerling and seemed to have invented a new culture of the teen-pop language. It was as vivid and colorful as his remarkable movie heroine-keeper: funnier and more romantic than any romcom. In the nineties, it was the hot topics issue. This film was a disgrace to all who, a funny and gracious tribute to Emma Jane Austen with nod to Shakespeare and Wilde. In Clueless, 19, Alicia Silverstone was the role of her life, unique style and comedy display ability, but never found after the race that everything seemed to promise. She plays Cher, the pampered, but basically good-hearted Princess: rich, popular, obsessed with fashion, but lonely and looking for love. Silverstone finds laughter as a teacher, and his voice in a sort of pitchy yodel pause in perplexing tones or complaint. Cher is best friend Dionne (Stacey Trace), but somewhat aggressive with his ex-strident Josh, whose mother was married to Cher's ferocious defender Mel, played by Dan Hedaya. However, could there be a spark between these two? Josh is a college student in liberal causes and Roar Mode "Rock Complaint". It is played by 26-year-old Paul Rudd, who immediately became a brand in Hollywood and sniper. Rudd's character began to mature and youthful Clueless. Get Cher decides what bad grades you have to do with getting your teachers in love, to sneakily two of them fall to each other, and if the east coast dorky girl named Tai appears, Cher makes a personal change "project ". Tai is very well played by Brittany Murphy, an up-and-comer talent who was bleak due to complications of dying in 2009 after an overdose of prescription drugs. The teen movie references to contemporary youth culture is always complicated with irony and melancholy if you look after almost 20 years. The terrible fate of Brittany Murphy is the saddest part of it. Clueless is strange to think that once the social networks. These people are ready and ready for the Internet and the digital revolution. There is a splendid view of the gag on Cher and Dionne talking uncomfortable on his large mobile phone. The recent film by Sofia Coppola, The Ring Bling is Clueless next generation. The difference is that the lean teenager Coppola really are clueless, white and selfish. There is a nice quality and idealistic Clueless comic that makes it so appealing. Cher and Dionne are the queens at their school, but not unpleasant, and according to their lights, they always want to do the right thing. Clueless is not characterized by a sign of "Bully" noticing a comeuppance ter. Mean Girls, the 2004 satirical film written by Tina Fey and Lindsay Lohan is very different. There's nothing new about bullying, of course, but I think it's interesting that Clueless appeared briefly to introduce snarky sites and reality farce at the center of pop culture. Clueless is a true classic: handsome, innocent fun. I envy people I have not yet seen. Pretty In Pink

The amazing ability to take advantage of John Hughes' teenage thrill, and then inexorably, pack it in a commercial way, has never been better employed here. This is empathy for his films, but also the most outrageous Eighties-tastic. A universal heart-tugger and retro bible style. It's a win-win. There is an old story - the poor Cinderella rich Prince Charming meets, and agonize all the way to the climatic ball, sorry, dance - but the full spectrum of teen angst is here: worry about what your colleagues think; Believing secretly tell your best friend and courage; They worry that you are very poor; Concern for parents; Worry that the sleeve of your vintage tuxedo has not rolled high enough. Hughes takes everything seriously and it takes time to build his characters. Andie knows where Molly Ringwald is coming from. We have to see him at home, and how embarrassing it is, we hung in his room, we saw the status of his single father (playing Harry Dean Stanton). This does not want to take the Ringwald natural wonderful power. Their blend of forward and fragility is the compelling effort. If you apply your lipstick or calls snobbery Andrew McCarthy, we are all the way with it. And Duckie John Cryer is the strangest of the male characters: the friendly and friendly clown who does not stay with the girl, although a better and better dressed society. The latter (especially the requirements of the modified screening tests) feels a bit like a cop-out, but could be read as a commentary on the bittersweet novel against pragmatism. If the story you do not start with Pretty in Pink, style it be. The film is worth looking at the costume changes alone, the respective boss Ringwald, Annie Potts, who travels from the fetish-punk in the 50's hive, Madonna-like material girl Debbie Harry New Wave. Serious art direction now makes the film look like a time capsule intentionally, filled with so many fashions, posters, records and decorative objects as they thought they could escape. And do not forget the soundtrack: Psychedelic Furs, OMD, Echo and the Bunnymen, New Order, The Smiths, uh, a cover by Nik Kershaw. Was each teen movie better?

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