#ch: Bobby Marks

[aylaaescar]

shoot, Bobby is basically the Dennis Duffy of Wayhaven

"hey dummy angel"

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 1

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 5393

Warnings: Angst, Past Trauma.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers. Not sure when this one will be up and available to read yet. Just getting the chapter list started for it.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 1

You grew up hearing about soulmates, but since you were raised by your Aunt Ellen, it was something you weren’t sure was even true. She’d shown you the mark that had shown up on her hip, your uncle’s name, when she’d turned sixteen. Soulmates clearly were a thing, but you were skeptical, even as a child.

“Hey, you gonna take care of the customers or just stand there daydreamin?” Ellen asked you.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, tending to the men at the bar.

How did I end up working here, of all places?

Your mind constantly drifted these days, and it started a month ago. Your twenty-fifth birthday was only three months away. Jo continually teased you when she found you off in your head during work hours. Then there was your Aunt Ellen, who was getting more worried about you as the days passed.

The music from the jukebox sounded far away, almost muffled as you absentmindedly took care of the tasks of cleaning tables, the bar, restocking bottles, and filling drinks. Guys would flirt with you, but you’d only give them that fake smile and move on.

It was the birthday you’d been waiting for, even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone. You were turning sixteen, and you’d finally see the name of your soulmate. Thanks to your aunt, you had gotten your hopes up.

But the day came and went, and nothing appeared. You had checked everywhere, even behind your ears. There was nothing. It took months to pull out of that depression, especially when those close to you asked about it. You also felt like some sort of freak. In all the research you’d done, you couldn’t find anything about not getting the mark when you turned sixteen.

“Geeze, Y/N. You’re really out of it today. What’s wrong, sweetie?” Ellen asked you, pulling you from your memories.

“Sorry. My mind seems to have a mind of its own today,” you sighed, glancing around the bar for a moment.

“You still bummed about the soulmate thing?” she asked you sincerely, in the way she did when she was gently trying to get you to talk.

You just shrugged your shoulders before taking off your apron, “I have to go help Bobby at the garage again.” 

“Is it that time already?” Ellen asked, glancing at the clock, then sighed. “Alright. Tell the old grump I said hi, and don’t let him work you too hard.” That made you chuckle, “He never does, and I’ll let him know.”

Again, your mind drifted as you drove down the semi-busy streets to Bobby’s garage. He and your Aunt had been friends for a long time, so he was practically family, as was his wife, Jodi. Growing up, you’d spent half your time in the garage, helping Bobby fix cars.

Sioux Falls wasn’t a big town, but wasn’t tiny either. You knew most of the people who lived there, and they knew you. It was more like more of them knew of you, the girl with no soulmate. You sighed as you drove your 71’ Pontiac Firebird Formula 400, a gift from Bobby you had to fix up, down the lonely road leading to his garage. 

“Got something for ya, kid, but you gotta fix her up,” Bobby told you when you showed up for your shift that hot summer afternoon.

“I told you. You don’t have to get me a present this year,” you groaned.

A year ago, you began hating your birthdays, and you didn’t want to celebrate this one. You begrudgingly followed him to his garage, then to the side of it, where you noticed the tarp over something.

Bobby walked over and pulled the tarp off, revealing the shell of a 71’ Pontiac Firebird Formula 400. You had fallen in love with muscle cars as a kid, watching The Dukes of Hazzard. Your jaw hit the floor as you ran over to her like a kid on Christmas.

He was smiling from ear to ear as he watched you look over everything, “She’s all yours, but you gotta do the work. You can’t let any other mechanic touch her. I’ll answer any questions, but I ain’t helpin' either.”

“Are you serious, Uncle Bobby?” you asked excitedly, popping the hood of the beat-up frame.

A small smile crossed your expression with that memory as you pulled into the driveway of Bobby’s garage and parked in the back. It seemed like so long ago, but it was one of your fondest memories that had made your birthday not so bad.

“I’m here,” you hollered, heading over to the car you’d been working on for almost a week at this point. 

“How was the bar?” he asked, joining you in the garage.

“I was a space cadet, and Aunt Ellen is worried about me,” you replied, sliding back under the car to finish it up.

“You’re not a space cadet. I just think you can’t focus around all those people anymore. Come work at the garage, full-time,” he told you, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“I’ll think about it,” you answered, tightening down a few more bolts.

“Besides, Jodi misses you being around more often,” Bobby added in an attempt to persuade your decision.

“I miss her too. Oh! Ellen said hi. I don’t know why she doesn’t text you more often,” you replied, sliding out from under the car, looking for yet another tool for yet another size bolt.

When you were in the garage, you always seemed to be able to focus. You knew Bobby had a point, and you’d been considering it for almost a month, but you weren’t about to tell him that. You wanted to let him think it was his idea.

Yeah, your mind drifted, but it was nothing like at the bar. Here, they were little snippets of memories: kids teasing you in high school, adults looking at you like you had two heads, and then there had been attempts to find a job but getting turned down everywhere due to not having the name of your soulmate on your body somewhere. 

By the time your shift ended, you had the car completely finished. Looking down at the car, you stood there, covered with blotches of grease but beaming with pride. 

“I’ll let the owner know she’s ready,” Bobby smiled, now standing next to you. “Think about it, though, okay?”

“I will,” you replied, giving him a hug before you headed home for the night since you’d already cleaned up the tools you’d used.

You lived in a cute little house not far from Bobby’s garage. It was the only thing that you had from your parents, along with a handful of pictures. You’d lost both of them to a car crash when you were only two, having no real memories of them. 

Since you were two when you had lost them, you never asked Jodi what had happened or if anyone else was involved. You honestly didn’t want to know. 

Dropping the things from your pockets on the table, you locked your door and headed to the bathroom. Your thoughts drifted again as you did your typical night routine.

“I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time finding work, sweetie. You can’t work here till you’re at least eighteen. I can’t break that law for you,” Ellen sighed.

You crossed your arms and went back outside to your car. You knew why no one in town would hire you, and it was a stupid reason. However, being a teenager still, you were all hormones and now needed to go blow off some steam.

You peeled out of the parking lot and down the road to your parent's place, which would be yours in less than a year. The drive was short due to the speed you’d chosen to go, and a cloud of dust rolled over your car when you parked out back of the house.

Between the punching bag, the target practice, and throwing your knives till your arm was sore, you had finally calmed down some. You made a call to Ellen and told her you were going to sleep at your ‘almost’ house. She didn’t like it but didn’t argue either.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, curled up in the soft bed that would eventually be your permanent room as the sun set slowly. The thought of being alone for the rest of your life hurt more than you’d ever tell anyone.

Dinner that night consisted of leftovers, and you were thankful you’d prepared them ahead of time when the week began—baked chicken, potatoes, and gravy. You were far too out of it to even worry about a vegetable. 

I’ll tell Ellen tomorrow.

Finally deciding to quit working at the bar as you cleaned up dinner and headed to bed, almost feeling as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Slipping under the covers and getting comfortable, you also felt more relaxed than usual. 

—----

Two hours into your shift, and Ellen had already had to pull you out of your head a dozen times. It was Saturday, so even the morning hours were busy today. You were just thankful that you never had to cook, knowing you would have ended up burning most of the food.

“Can you at least pay attention to the ones at the bar? Jo can handle the floor today,” Ellen told you, again sounding worried.

“I’ll try,” you sighed, glancing at the men sitting there.

There was no point in apologizing again. As you began taking care of the drinks, the bell over the door dinged, signifying yet another customer. Typically, you wouldn’t have even looked up, but something pulled at you.

It was three men, none of whom you recognized, and two of them looked to be around your age, with the third being older. All three of them sat at the bar, so you went over to get them drinks.

“What’s your poison?” you asked, putting on that fake work smile and not really looking at them.

“Three beers,” the older of the three said, “And please tell Ellen to come over.”

You were slightly confused but agreed. You set their beers down in front of them, then went to find Ellen in the back. “Hey, there’s a guy out here that asked for you.”

“Did you get his name?” she asked as she dried her hands.

“No. He didn’t say. He’s with two other guys who are younger, though, if that helps?” you replied as you followed her out of the back room.

You stopped halfway down the bar, but you were still behind it, as she was now on the other side, making her way to the three of them. The older man stood, both he and Ellen smiling as they embraced in a hug, which confused you. You managed to keep up with the drinks for those at the bar but couldn’t hear what the four of them were talking about.

“Y/N, come down here and get these boys a refill,” Ellen hollered, motioning for you to go over to them.

Rolling your eyes, you did as she asked, putting on that fake smile again, “Here ya go.”

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” one of the two younger ones said to you with what looked to be a flirtatious smirk.

“Don’t be flirting with my niece, Dean. She’s still what you’d consider innocent,” Ellen scolded the one who had just spoken to you, but to you, it sounded more like a teasing sort of joking around, which made you slightly curious. “Thanks. Like I need some stranger to know that sort of thing,” you grumbled.

“Sweetie, these are the Winchesters. They’re practically family. You met them when you were little,” Ellen replied, smiling happily.

For a moment, you were somewhat dumbfounded as to what to even say. You couldn’t seem to remember meeting the three of them. Ellen introduced you to John Winchester, the father of Dean and Sam, who were four years apart in age.

“I hate to do it, Aunt Ellen, but, I need to talk to you about something before I leave in ten,” you finally told her.

“What’s up?” she asked, looking quite puzzled.

“I need to take some time off for a while,” you mumbled, feeling bad.

“Take all the time you need, sweetie. I know things have been rough for you lately,” she said softly, then she gave you a hug. “And tell that old fart to stop by sometime.”

“Thanks for understanding, and I will,” you replied, relieved as you hugged her back. Then you looked over at the Winchesters, “It was nice to have at least met the three of you since I don’t remember meeting you before now. Not sure when I’ll see you again, though.”

“How come?” John asked, seeming fairly curious.

“I’m going to be working my other job full-time for a while. It’s the love of my life, honestly,” you replied with a smile, giving John your full attention.

“What’s that, kid?” he asked, which made you wonder if perhaps he knew Bobby since Bobby called you that all the time.

“I fix cars. Hate to do it, but I have to run,” you replied quickly, heading for the door and out to your Baby. However, your heart about stopped when you saw the black 67’ Chevy Impala parked next to your Firebird.

“Damn…” you breathed out in quiet shock and awe.

Shit! I’m gonna be late.

With that thought, you shook your head, pulled your gaze from the car, and drove to Bobby’s garage for your shift. It indeed was a beautiful car, and you knew that no one in town drove one of those. Through deductive reasoning, you figured it had to belong to the Winchesters. You just weren’t sure which one. Whichever one it was, though, they loved that car, and you knew it with how well it had been taken care of.

The leaves on the trees were changing colors already, and the light breeze was finally cooler than the summer heat that you hated. However, you didn’t notice much today; you were too excited to give Bobby the news.

You knew the smile you couldn’t hide would give it away, but you stepped into his little office anyway. You didn’t even have time to say anything before he did.

Bobby was smiling from ear to ear when he looked up at you, “Nice to know Ellen didn’t give you a hard time about being here full time. You can whip those boys on the morning shift into shape for me.”

“Like they’d listen to me,” you chuckled but rolled your eyes.

“They better, since you’re gonna be their boss from here on out,” he told you seriously.

“Wait? What?” you asked, in complete surprise.

“Kid, you know your shit, and you’re good at your job. You’re better at your job than the four boys I got workin here already. I’d rather just have you than all of them 'cause I know you’d get the job done like it should be, and you never cut corners,” he explained, being completely serious.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you stammered, still shocked.

“Just say thanks and be here at six tomorrow morning. Take the afternoon off and rest up,” he smiled.

You went over and wrapped him up in a hug. He knew the only reason you worked in the garage late was to avoid the boys he had working there in the morning. You had tried doing the dating thing after your sixteenth birthday, but realized quickly that no boy wanted anything to do with you.

That night, you were still smiling, even if you were apprehensive about being someone’s boss, let alone four grown men. People in the town were mostly courteous toward you but treated you like a plague of some sort since your soulmate's name never appeared on your body. 

—-------

As you got ready that morning, you attempted to calm your nerves, but it didn’t work. You gave yourself mental pep talks all morning and even on the drive, but that wasn’t helping either. Your heart was still racing as you parked out back like you usually did.

Bobby was the only one at the garage for the moment, and he even told you to breathe more than once. He explained that you’d still be working on cars, but now you’d also be keeping an eye on the boys he had working there and telling them when to take their breaks. It seemed simple enough.

Benny, Cas, Garth, and Jack were decent guys and were all friends. They’d spend time at the bar in the evenings when you were at the garage. It was how you had avoided a lot of people in the town since they really wanted nothing to do with you. The part you were worried about was interacting with them, as their boss. Bobby was standing next to you as the four of them arrived and mingled into the garage.

“Boys, meet your new boss,” Bobby said sternly, and all four of them looked up at you.

You were sure your heartbeat could be heard throughout the room as you froze under their gaze. The only one who didn’t look at you like you were a waste of space or something to avoid was Garth, and you made a mental note of that.

Something in you snapped with how they looked at you, and you laid into them before Bobby could comment on their expressions. “Look, I know that at least three of you would rather not work with me. I’m not a bitch, but I will be if I have to be. You don’t like this, there’s the door,” you told them sternly, putting your hands on your hips.

“Seriously?” Benny asked, annoyed. His Cajun accent was thick, and if it weren’t for his attitude, you probably could have listened to the man talk all day.

“Yes, Benny. She’s got the right to fire you if need be. I suggest you don’t give her a reason,” Bobby replied, crossing his arms, almost daring the man to challenge his decision.

Garth stepped forward, though, with that kind smile he always had, “I, for one, am looking forward to working with you, Y/N. You seem like a nice person, fair.”

Your expression instantly softened, and you smiled at him. “Thanks, Garth.”

“Alright, get to work,” Bobby told all of you before he headed into his office to keep an eye on things.

You turned from the four of them and headed toward the newest of the cars that had been brought in the day before. Your nerves were shot, but you were proud of yourself for standing up to the three of them. Pausing for a brief moment as you looked down at the car, you decided on something.

I’m gonna just be me. If they don’t like it, they can quit.

You turned on the radio to the classic rock station, then got to work on the car. Benny raised an eyebrow and just watched you silently before he got to work with the other three. It was odd for you with the other four working there, too. It was something you weren’t used to, but you found yourself keeping an eye on them, even while you worked.

An hour into the shift, Cas had stopped working and sat on one of the barstools, sipping some water. You watched him out of the corner of your eye for a few minutes while still focusing on your current task. Five minutes later, he was back to work. You took mental note of it and focused on your task again.

Each of them did that, taking turns to sit for a few minutes, have water, and then return to work. It puzzled you, but you weren’t ready to ask them why they did it, at least not yet. 

Just before nine, you heard it before you saw it. The beautiful purr of that Impala you had seen the night before. A smirk crossed your lips while you were unbolting the upper portion of the water pump for the current car in front of you. 

The Impala stopped, and then she was silent. You could clearly hear three sets of footsteps heading into the garage. The four boys erupted with greetings to the Winchesters, more Dean than the other two. Even Bobby joined in. 

So, they do know each other. Too bad the boys know them too. So much for maybe making a friend now.

You sighed and slid under the car, going for the bottom bolts now that the top ones were loose, completely ignoring the ruckus of greetings going on only about twenty feet away from you.

“Kid, you gonna come say hi?” you heard Bobby ask, and you realized he was standing next to you.

“I really wanted to get this finished, since the part finally came in, and this poor car has been sitting here for a week waiting,” you replied without moving out from under the car.

“Kid, don’t make me pull you outta there,” he told you a bit more sternly, and you knew he’d do it.

“Fine,” you grumbled, sliding out from under the car.

“So much for not running into you again, Sweetheart,” Dean smirked, which made you roll your eyes.

“Dean’s gonna be starting tomorrow morning. Dean, she’ll be your boss, so don’t try anything funny. She’s also practically my niece,” Bobby told him, far sterner than you’d heard him talk to anyone before, which only piqued your curiosity as to what their past entailed.

“I’ll behave, Bobby, I promise,” Dean told him, somewhat seriously. 

You noticed a small twinkle in not only Dean’s eye, but also in Bobby’s. It was like there was something they both knew but weren’t saying, at least not in front of you.

“You better, boy. I got no problems telling your dad and making him fire you,” Bobby replied, glancing at John.

That was when it hit you. You’d seen the initials JW on several different pieces of paperwork and even a couple of packages that had been delivered to the garage. John was Bobby’s partner in the business, and Dean was supposed to inherit it when John passed or retired. You were a bit surprised, though, that you had the power to fire the boss's son or at least write him up if you had to.

John’s laughter filled the garage at Bobby’s statement, “If I have to get involved, you’ll be in far more trouble than just losing your job.” There was a joke in there, but you could also hear the hint of seriousness in his tone.

What do the three of them know but aren’t saying around me? This is so frustrating.

“I said I’d behave,” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the car closest to him while the boys gave him a hard time. But it was there, even if only a hint of it, a smirk, and you noticed.

That was when John and Bobby both turned toward you, and for some reason, it made you nervous. “We’re having a little get-together tonight at Harvelle’s, and you’re invited. Sam graduated and is getting a full ride for law school, and that calls for a celebration,” John told you with a far softer smile than you thought the man was capable of.

“Uh, sure, I guess,” you replied, completely unsure of the idea of being around people who really wanted nothing to do with you.

“Good. Then we’ll see you there around say, seven?” John replied.

“Okay,” you answered, not sure what else to say.

Due to your attention being on John and Bobby, you missed the silent conversations going on between Dean, Sam, and the four grease monkeys on the far side of the garage. Dean was mostly watching you while Benny and Cas were telling him things, about you. Sam was also watching you, but his was more out of curiosity than anything else.

John and Bobby hung out in the office with the door closed for at least another hour. Dean and Sam were distracting the other four while they worked. You, well, you were changing out the water pump, ignoring all of them. It was what hurt the least. 

While you were tightening down the bolts under the car, you noticed a pair of feet standing next to you.

“You really don’t remember us, do you?” he asked.

“Sorry. I really don’t,” you answered, focusing on the bolt that was being a pain to get to.

“Wow. Kinda surprised since we went to the same schools and grew up in the same town,” he chuckled quietly, and you realized it was Sam and not Dean. Sam had a softer voice, and he didn’t call you sweetheart.

“I’m really sorry. I was kind of a loner,” you told him and finally got the bolt tightened down.

Sliding out from under the car and looking up at him, you felt like an ant with how tall he was. You shook off the feeling, got to your feet, and bent over into the engine so you could finish bolting the water pump in place.

“I remember. I heard about what happened, or uh, I mean- what didn’t happen when you turned sixteen,” he told you with that softness you were thankful for.

You shrugged your shoulders briefly, “Doesn’t matter. At least Bobby let me work here. All I ask is that you aren’t being nice to me out of pity. I’d rather be ignored.”

“I don’t pity you. I actually wanted to tell you something I found out while I was at college. It’s rare, like it only happens to one in a billion people. A traumatic event before the age of five can leave a child too scared to get their soulmate’s name when they turn sixteen,” he explained.

You froze where you were. It was more than anything you’d been able to find, and for a moment, you wanted to hope. You quickly brushed it away, though, remembering how badly you’d felt the last time you got your hopes up.

“You gonna keep going or just leave me hanging like that?” you asked, a little sharper than you intended.

Sam took a deep breath, and you missed him glancing at his brother momentarily, “Well, what I read said that the other person still gets their soulmate’s name. The one that went through the trauma has to fully heal from it before they get their soulmate’s name.”

You rolled your eyes, “Kinda hard to heal from something I don’t remember.”

“I just wanted you to know that me and my brother don’t see you like others do, and we’d like to be your friend, if you want,” he replied, then walked away to leave you to your thoughts.

Great. I don’t even know what to do to heal that sort of thing. I don’t even remember my parents. And now, the boss’s kids want to be friends with me. No, that can’t go horribly wrong, can it? Plus, I have to go sit through a celebration with people I don’t remember and others who want nothing to do with me, even if Ellen, Bobby, and Jodi will be there.

You focused on the car but finished it quickly before the Winchesters were even ready to leave. After wiping off your hands, you closed the hood and put the tools away before driving the car out to the finished area so it could wait for its owner to pick it up. When you headed back inside, your eyes were only on the office door, which was still closed. You didn’t see Dean watching you again.

“Hey, Bobby. Cars finished. I didn’t see anything else out back. What do you want me to work on?” you asked, setting the keys on his desk so he could get the paperwork together.

“How about you give Dean the tour? Show him where everythings at?” John suggested with a smirk before Bobby could say a word. “I figured Benny would do that, since they seem like friends,” you replied, not wanting to interrupt the six of them.

“I’m sure he could, but he won’t. You’re their boss. Comes with the territory,” John told you.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied in a slight mumble, heading back out of the office, closing the door, and then leaning on it.

As you crossed your arms, you watched the six of them. They looked like they were enjoying whatever conversation was happening between them, with Dean laughing at something he must have found funny. With a deep sigh, you walked over to them, slipping your hands into your pockets.

There was instant silence the moment you got close to them, but you didn’t let the hurt show, “John said I should give you a tour and show you where everything is,” you explained to Dean, not really looking at him.

Dean glanced at the office door then back down at you, “If that’s what my dad said, then lead the way, Sweetheart.”

Why does he have to keep calling me that? It’s not like he knows me. Maybe he calls all girls that, and it’s just his thing or something like that. 

“Yeah, not like you been in here a day of your life,” Benny teased him, which made you look up at Benny, confused. “Huh?” was the only word you could manage.

“Oh yeah, Dean’s been working in here since he was knee-high to a grasshopper,” Cas chuckled, teasing Dean.

Your gaze went from each of them and then to Dean, tilting your head in a fair amount of confusion. Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked away from you.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Worried she’ll figure it out?” Benny stated.

“Figure what out?” you asked as Dean glared at Benny.

“Nothing,” Dean snapped, still glaring at Benny.

So, Dean’s got some secret he doesn’t want me to know about. 

“Do you still want that tour I’m supposed to give you?” you asked with a sigh, looking more at the floor than anywhere else.

“Dean, you were here less than a month ago. Did you really forget where everything is already?” Cas teasingly asked him.

You’d had enough, so headed out of the garage, tossing your hands up and hollering, “Never mind,” just before making it outside. Once you made it to your car, you texted Bobby and told him you were heading home since there weren’t any more cars to work on at the moment.

The six of them watched as you drove past the garage entrance and then down the driveway. You missed Dean punching Cas in the jaw. You missed John and Bobby going off on Benny and Cas. You also missed Dean going off on Benny. You were too pissed and hurt to even look back.

Bobby didn’t text you back, but you knew if he had an issue or needed you at the garage, he would have said so. The moment you got home, you went straight for the punching bag, needing to get the anger out of your system so you could shower.

How am I gonna get out of tonight? Can I even get out of tonight? Probably not. I’ll have to show up, at least. I can always leave early, though, right? 

You groaned at the thought of having to be around people, knowing full well that getting out of it, even early, was going to be difficult. At least you weren’t required to dress up any, so you went for a pair of black jeans, a dark blue shirt, and your favorite deep green flannel pulled over it. At the garage, you typically had your hair pulled back, but for tonight, you left it down.

Parking near the back of Harvelle’s Bar & Grill, you were just staring at the building, dreading going inside and having to “people,” as you called it. The sun had already set, and the darkness was allowing the glimmer of stars to be seen in the night sky, but you didn’t notice them, just the bar in front of you.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

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[spectres-fulcrum]

I (finally) finished a 911 fic! There's a Ch 2 that is mostly done, but I feel like this can also stand perfectly well on it's own so it's marked as complete.

It's an addition to the Madney wedding episode, and this part is just Bucktommy doing the rounds around Chim's hospital room and catching up with surprised but supportive and loving(And crying, in Hen's case). I really just wanted everyone else reacting to the surprise of Buck and Tommy and it ended up having a lot of Jee but also a lot of positive Philip Buckley? He's Trying which is more than his wife is doing(all she's doing is saying she's trying)

But the HenRen convo is SO special to me and Bobby does a lot of small things that make him the amazing man he is and I love the firefam. It's really just firefam welcoming Tommy fluff.

And yeah. I hope you all enjoy!

[nnschneider]

Halloween Crochet Project

Last year, I made an octopus balaclava which became my first Tumblr post.

This year, I saw a Medusa knitted hat on here and said to myself, "Make That."

So I did.

I didn't follow the instructions for the knitted project because I went with crochet instead. (I am scared to learn knitting in the round, and don't want to buy more needles.) I made a ton of crochet snakes. 🐍🐍🐍 So many snakes! 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍 And then I attached them to a beanie. Then I realized I didn't have enough snakes and had to make even more. 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

The snake pattern is below. Basically, rows 1-8 are the head, rows 9-11 are the neck, and all the rest is the body. As these are attached to the hat, I didn't need to do the tail.

Magic circle. SC × 6. Slip stitch to close the loop. Tighten the ring. (6 st)

Increase: Ch ×1, (SC × 2 in a SC, SC × 1 in a SC) × 3. Slip stitch to close the loop. (9 st)

Ch ×1, SC in every SC. Slip stitch to close the loop. (9 st)

Increase: Ch ×1, (SC × 1 in a SC, SC × 2 in a SC, SC × 1 in a SC) × 3. Slip stitch to close the loop. (12 st)

Ch ×1, SC in every SC. Slip stitch to close the loop. (12 st)

Decrease: Ch ×1, [ (SC × 1 in a SC) × 3, SC 2 Together, SC × 1 in a SC] × 2. Slip stitch to close the loop. (10 st)

Decrease: Ch ×1, [ (SC × 1 in a SC) × 2, SC 2 Together, SC × 1 in a SC] × 2. Slip stitch to close the loop. (8 st)

Decrease: Ch ×1, [ (SC × 1 in a SC) × 1, SC 2 Together, SC × 1 in a SC] × 2. Slip stitch to close the loop. (6 st)

Ch ×1, SC in every SC. Slip stitch to close the loop. (6 st)

Ch ×1, SC in every SC. Slip stitch to close the loop. (6 st)

Ch ×1, SC in every SC. Slip stitch to close the loop. (6 st)

Ch ×1, SC, HDC DC, DC, HDC, SC. Slip stitch to close the loop. (6 st)

Ch ×1, SC in every SC. Slip stitch to close the loop. (6 st)

Repeat 12 & 13 until your snake is long enough.

The body as I did it has a bit of a wave to it to give it some natural movement, but go with whatever makes you happy. I also stuck pipe cleaners in them so I could try to position them later. It wasn't as effective as it initially sounded; it gave them more shape but not to the point where I could make the top layer stand up and look menacing.

The first row was 8 snakes. 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

The second row is 10 snakes. 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

The third row is also 10 snakes. 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍 I can feel the weight pulling the hat back so that it rests higher on my forehead. I suppose this means I need to balance it a bit. I had put pipe cleaners in all snakes in the first two rows but decided to only bother with them in the front 4 by row 3 because the pipe cleaners weren't as effective as I wanted. I probably should have not bothered with pipe cleaners in the bottom rows and done more with them in the top rows.

The fourth row is 9 snakes. 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍 And the snakes are shorter on top than the bottom rows, so they take less time and less yarn! The cap is feeling loose but the weight distribution is relatively good so it's not sliding off my head. I'll probably feel more secure if I bobby pin it in place.

Enough snakes! Something like 10 or 13 on top. I feel like a fricking Gorgon. 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

But am I done? No. Gotta gild that lily.

I added bead-y yellow eyes and forked yarn tongues to the snakes because it adds.

The tongue was fun and easy, just knotting the yarn until it was a good (variable) length and then changing up the last knot to make the forked tongue seem more or less forked.

Oh, and. The snake heads each have a top and bottom, but the bodies have a little wiggle and don't all lay flat and easy. My point is that it's not obvious which side is the top side for sewing on the snake eyes, especially when a blob of yarn noodles is laying in your lap. I had to put it on and then stand in front of the mirror, marking the top sides with safety pins so I would know which ends were up.

True confession: I'm running out of momentum to finish the snake eyes. I plan on wearing this to hand out candy so I don't need to gild every snake, just the ones ppl will see.

And if my kids get any costume ideas (they don't beg from door to door anymore but they do get into the spirit), I'll have bandwidth to work with them.

As a couple's costume idea, I need my husb to coat himself in gray face paint and stand as still as a statue.

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 61 // Gust Front // Day 46

Contents (Warnings): The wedding day approaches (Angsty, vore mentions, and character/monster info). Read full chapter on - A03

Wordcount: 3,345

Side note: This will contain experimental writing; first person (Lynette's view) will be implemented alongside third person for the two other essential characters, (mostly) Alexander and (occasionally) Drake. All their text will be italicized for those third-person moments, with the characters' names in Bold at the start and their thoughts in Bold. There may be other characters I write for using this.

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(Nov. 10th, Thursday)

There are a lot of girls I've never met here. They were of different sizes and shapes, Charletta had seven other bridesmaids, excluding Wenna. And I was the maid of honor.

I was given the rundown at dinner yesterday, what I should be doing, and how I should direct all of the other bridesmaids, but it was a scary feeling being in charge with prying eyes on me. I didn't know who was safe, what they were, and whether I did everything right. It also reminded me of the lie I'd have to pull off with the others.

"Mom and Dad both agreed, we are telling everyone you're a magus tomorrow if they ask, so play along," Charletta said. She had her checklist in hand. She looked over it one more time before handing it to me. 

"Is that a good idea?" I asked, not looking at the list yet. I know next to nothing about magic.

Charletta smiled, "I think it's much safer for everyone to assume you're a magus as they do now." She stretched her arms up, "moreover, most magus's can hide their energy and magic from monsters or other magus's. So they'll assume you're powerful."

"When I'm not." 

"You may not be powerful in magic, but I admire plenty of other qualities about you." Charletta glanced back and put her hands on her hips.

What could you admire about me? The question didn't leave my head, "I get it. Wicks and you are much cooler though." I pushed a smile.

Charletta giggled with the excitable brightness in her eyes, "shush up, Lyn." She pressed playfully at my shoulder, and I took it.

"Lynette!" Wenna chirped, her eyes lit up as she entered the dressing room. I finished my Rapunzel braid.

She quickly jogged up to me. She circled me like an excited dog. I tried to keep up with her. Wenna swiftly got behind me and put her delicate hands on my shoulders. I lightly squeaked. She made me face the mirror, "THIS," she picked up my braid, "braid is so cute!"

I could see the worry on my face, more evident than her smile in the mirror. I exhaled, "t-thanks."

She let go and chuckled, "don't worry, I won't bite." She flashed her fangs, "I know when a magus has me beat."

Her giggle was far too on the nose. I felt comfortable around Wenna, because she didn't eye me like the others did.

I noticed another approaching us from the array of mirrors. I glanced back.

"Hello, Wenna, Lynette." The proper vocals shook hands with my ears. I scanned over the well-dressed female. Even though it was a casual rehearsal, she wore a gray business suit with a unique collar that showed off her white button-up. "Should we start heading to the main wed hall?"

"Hi, Koianada-"

"Koi is fine,"

"Koi," I nodded, then patted over my jeans pockets. I pulled out my phone and checked over the family group chat. "They are doing their final run with the coordinator. Charletta will meet with us when we can go." I replied, looking up from my phone.

Koi gave a bob of her head, "right." She glanced up at a few of her bangs that escaped the bobby pins. She turned to the mirrors.

"I don't think I witnessed you during the marked game yesterday," the white-haired girl said.

What do I say to that? If I mentioned anything magic related, I'd sound like an idiot.

"Lynette would have beat us all if she played," Wenna covered me.

Play along. I thought to myself. "Wenna, you're embarrassing me." Even a simple comment like that hurt. I disliked lying. It only helped remind me that I wasn't candid with Wicks that night. I saw the frustration and anger festering in him when I talked at length about a few events. So, I refused to go into detail about all of them.

I don't want anyone to fight. I'm not worth the effort. From what I understand...you all have a lot more on your plate and you shouldn't worry about me. 

I could feel the deep ache. I pinched at my arm. Stop it. It's okay. This is a break. Please. There was so much I didn't understand, wanted to ask questions about, and...overall, I felt apart from it all.

"HEY, EVERYONE, LET'S GET GOING!!" Charletta popped her head into the dressing room, where the small groups were chit-chatting. I turned to head out and heard a voice beside me.

"You've got this, Lynette." Wenna patted my head. I held up a thumbs up.

...

We finished rehearsal. I couldn't believe so many new faces came to talk to me. I'd never remember them all.

I needed a breather. I stepped back and leaned on the wall. Wicks squinted at me and gestured back to the group he was part of.

I shook my head. I put my two palms together, then pressed the back of my left hand to my face and made a 'sleep' gesture.

"Hey, Lynette."

I shifted my body to the cyan-haired male, "hi, Ace." I matched his friendly smile.

"Are you taking a break? I saw you rushing around earlier." He said with a slight chuckle.

"Yeah..." We went over everything quicker than they expected, so we had to wait a little longer before we headed out to the dinner. I know there were plenty of other things I should have done, but my family handled a lot of this. I'm trying to make up for it now, though. "I wasn't really doing much."

"Nonsense," Ace said, "I can tell you are dedicated to the part for your sister. It's honorable." He looked above at the marble statues, beautiful fake trees with white leaves, and the chairs along the white-carpeted aisle. "I think this is a nice place for a wedding. The upstairs has such a pretty view of the garden too."

I nodded, "it is." I looked at Charletta as she joked with a few girls and guys next to Ulysses. "I'm glad I get to see her at her happiest." I could feel my eyes watering. No, not in front of a stranger!

He ran his hand through his slicked-back hair and attempted to study my turned-away face. "I bet you'd look amazing at your happiest too."

ME?! I couldn't even fathom anything like that. I had no one in my life romantically. I couldn't even go on dates. I chickened out whenever I was invited. I will never get over throwing up on Kyle. His name was ingrained in my head after my first and only date.

"You too," I replied. I didn't know what to say in response. My gaze brushed Ace's cool, ice one, then drifted to the blush at his cheeks.

Wait, did he say amazing? Me...oh... I felt the queasiness.

He changed the subject after our eyes intertwined. "So, Lynette, what do you do for fun outside of magic?"

"Uh, I read and play video games occasionally too." I feel like I haven't had much time for either of those. "I do rock climbing with Wicks sometimes on my weekends too."

His thin lips uplifted with a curl, enthralled by the mention. "Rock climbing? We should go some time. I know a place nearby. We could ask Wicks, Charletta, and Ulysses to tag along."

My raised chest deflated with relief. His tender reassurance calmed me. I was glad he included them in his invitation. I agreed, and our conversation continued.

A tick in the back of my mind reminded me that Ace still had to be some sort of monster, but his niceness and interest reminded me of June. He was less bubbly. However, nonetheless, he was the ease I needed right now. I hated to think that Ace, a total stranger, was someone I felt more relief from now than my family. 

...

Drake

He was the barrier between Wicks and Alexander. He sat in the seat between them and could feel the burning gaze from the magus on his right. 

I am willing to bet Lynette told him EVERYTHING. The thought then occurred to him, and his eyes slipped to his new sister-in-law, at least starting tomorrow. 

That means I'm on the hit list next. Drake slumped in his chair. He hadn't worn a hoodie today. His mom and dad would tear into him if he dressed too informally. He at least put his hair back comfortably over his face. His right hand under the table fidgeted with the white table cover, and he looked over the fancy, shimmering silverware. Each looked freshly cleaned and sharpened, or new. This place is nice.

His ears started to pick up the conversation between Ace and Lynette. He was complimenting her quite a bit. Maybe Lynette reminds him of Charletta? Or perhaps she said something that really enraptured him? He questioned the thought. Is Lynette really the romantic type? She acts far too timid most of the time, compared to Charletta... Drake exhaled aloud. In that competition, she was a menace.

"You looked nice with your hair back earlier, Drake." 

He perked up at the sudden compliment. He figured it was because his head was turned in her direction even though he was really looking past her out the window to the street. I did not.

"It wasn't my choice." He brushed over the bangs over his eyes. 

"You do clean up nicely, Drake. You should work on being presentable more often." Koi then gestured to Alexander, who sat on her left in between her and Drake. "Just as Alexander should stop wearing that scowl, he'd look more attractive without it."

"Bite me," Alexander grumbled with a roll of his eyes. 

"I already regret it the first time, do not remind me of the horrendous flavor you hybrids possess," She uttered. 

He squinted at her, finally taking his eyes from Wicks. Drake shivered, "why do you have to remind me of that, Koi."

"I thought you only bit humans...?" Lynette questioned Drake. 

He could tell by the sudden quickness of her heart's change. She didn't mean to say that allowed. 

Alexander rubbed at his arm, "he used cheap tricks to try and beat my ass in a fight."

WHAT? Drake cocked his head in his Best friend's direction. "You're just mad. I almost beat you without magic."

"ALMOST beat me? I was going easy on you."

His shoulders rose, "you're lying."

"You think I wanted to hurt you. If I did-"

Ace butt in before they could get too wild. "Hey, since you guys are a little magic enthusiastic. I was thinking we can have a training session tomorrow, to test our skills? Maybe give each other pointers?"

Wicks chuckled, "oh? That sounds like a great idea." His hazel hue locked onto Alexander, "I think I'd love to give you guys some pointers."

"Hell no."

Wicks inched forward over the table, over the empty plate. "Are you saying your scared?" 

The blonde stared directly at him, "scared of your ass? No." 

You're lying. You're definitely worried.

"I can already tell we don't have the same specializations. It'd be stupid to "train" together." Alexander knew what Wicks wanted. The other two at the table were confused about the whole situation as to why Wicks looked excited to destroy him. 

This whole Lynette's a magus lie... His hue fell on the prim female. If Koi pays too close attention to how Alexander looks at her, she'll know we're lying. 

"What about you, Lynette? Maybe you can help Alexander?" Ace suggested.

Lynette, who was mid-drinking water, lurched forward. She almost spit it up. She quickly swallowed and put her cup down.

Drake saw Alexander's mouth open, and he pressed his claws to extend on his fingertips. "If only she-" He quickly jabbed his two fingers into Alexander's side. It stopped him mid-sentence. He didn't break his skin or anything. It felt like he ran into a metal wall with them. 

Alexander's vision darted to Drake. The person to Drake's side caught it first. The vampire beast knew not only was Wicks P.O.ed but that Alexander might have said something to spill the secret. He was also riled up by the fact that Alexander would have most likely commented about Lynette's unwillingness to let herself get eaten by him.

Alexander sat back and crossed his arms. The two awaited his response. "If only she wasn't as annoying as her brother." He shot a gaze back to Wicks. 

The male with the ponytail laughed, "you didn't just call my sister annoying."

They looked ready to both throwdown here. "And what if I did, fucker?"

"Maybe a training session is not a good idea," Ace muttered.

"Not at all," Koi said.

Lynette tapped the table in front of her, "please!" They both turned their gaze to her. "I don't think Ulysses or Charletta want a fight a day before their wedding." 

Drake glanced at the two, and they both stopped their heavy gazes. Lynette hit them both with the people they respected and cared for. Or at least Drake knew Alexander respected Ulysses and would protect him the same as everyone else. He figured Wicks was the same, especially with how protective he was over Lynette. 

It was not long after the toast from the event host, Drake's dad. 

Edgar stood up from the bride, groom, and parents table after getting everyone's attention with the classic glass TING TING TING. 

He cleared his throat before speaking, "as I look around this room, it warms my heart to see all of the love in here that people have for dear Charletta and Ulysses." Edgar surveyed everyone, a charming smile on his face.

"If you have been to a wedding before, you know it takes a lot of hard work and planning. It truly is a group effort, and this rehearsal is the last thing on the to-do list before the big day." There was a slight cord fluctuation in his voice. He kept himself together.

"I know Charletta and Ulysses are so happy and grateful to have you all here, and I am so lucky to meet and eat with all of you." The parents had been table hopping. They sprang around this disaster table earlier. 

Drake hadn't gotten to engage a lot with Lynette's side of the family, not that he felt like he should. Mainly since he stuck around the problem. His eyes went to Alexander.

After the small speech with his brother, thanking everyone received their food and started to eat. 

That was when he heard his mom's voice beside him. "Drake, Alexander." She warmly rubbed at their shoulders, "how are my favorite boys doing!" She gave Alexander a kiss first on his forehead.

Then she leaned over to Drake, brushed his hair away, and did the same to him. 

"Are you drinking enough," she asked him, studying his drink. 

"Yeah, mom," Drake replied. He saw her inspecting more at his face. 

"You look so much paler. Are you sure?" 

Drake pulled away lightly. "I'm fine." He grew embarrassed as the others looked at him.

His mom popped up and bowed to the others, "hey, Ace and...oh! Yes, this is where Edgar said where you were. Ulysses and Charletta wanted to talk to you both."

Ace raised a brow, "me?"

Koi got up without much hesitation, "we should see them."

They both got up, leaving the table. Drake's mom made her way over to Wicks and Lynette. 

She happily spoke, "I am so glad you both look like you're having a wonderful time. Hopefully, my boy are making it fun for the two of you." 

Wicks half smiled, "fun is the word I'd use."

Lynette agreed, "fun is a word."

You can tell Wicks hates us, right? Drake thought to himself. 

"He doesn't hate you," his mom replied aloud.

Wicks raised a brow, "whose thoughts did you read."

His mom held her mouth, "oh, apologies. Sorry, Drake happens to think a lot in his head, and I've gotten used to reading them" She looked back at him and went to hug him. He sat there and took it. His body trembled. And her thoughts went back to him. "Don't worry, I'm sure Wicks doesn't hate you for your mess up during the festival. It's a good thing Lynette understands-."

She released him once he stood up in her grasp. He put his cup down on the table gently. He turned to her, "I'm going to the bathroom."

"Drakie," she said, but he refused to turn back and face her. He heard the other chair push out too. Alexander told Danee bye and went after Drake. He tried to calm his temperament and hold his thoughts as he left. He ignored Alexander, who came beside him.

"You're not walking back," Alexander said to him.

Drake continued to walk around the corner and into the main dining hall instead of their closed-off sections. He didn't respond. For some reason, the lights irritated him, even though the place itself was darker than most restaurants. 

"Drake," Alexander tried to grab his arm before they made it outside. Drake avoided it and pushed out. The air felt chiller than the previous nights. And the slight breeze pushed away the repetitive calls of his name.

Alexander, this time didn't give up. "HEY, ASSHOLE."

Drake stopped and whipped around, "YOU DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW ME. I DON'T NEED YOUR PROTECTION." His lip raised and his fangs became more apparent. "I'M TAKING A BREAK."

"You think that's why-" Alexander groaned and pressed up his glasses, "I don't want you doing something stupid like walking back to the house because she loves you."

ME? Drake laughed aloud and threw away the last part, "are you serious? You think I'd do something stupid?" He shook his head and nodded up at him "You're the one that doesn't think before you open your damn mouth!" 

Alexander narrowed his gaze, but Drake didn't hear it. Why doesn't his heart sound angry... What Drake heard instead was pained. 

It momentarily distracted him. Alexander grabbed his hips seeing the time to strike. Drake instinctually went to loop his arm over and twist Alexander's head away.

"Stop it fucker; we're going back now." Alexander fought to keep his head in place. He lifted Drake from the concrete and the few people that walked the streets didn't seem to care.

"YOU AREN'T CARRYING ME BACK!" He snapped back.

"THEN HEAD INSIDE ONCE I DROP YOUR ASS." They let go simultaneously. Drake caught himself, and Alexander's eyes glued themselves to him. 

I basically called you stupid. Drake thought. He looked back at the restaurant and then at Alexander, who waited for him to move. He took a breath and walked toward the doors again. "Sorry."

"You better be. You're literal instinct was to try and snap my fucking neck." Alexander said. He rubbed it.

It's not like I could from that position nor do I have enough strength when you link you and your wendigo form.

He looked at his hand for a moment before putting it back in his pocket. He weakly picked up a smile, "Like I could snap your fat neck."

Alexander grinned. "Say that shit again, and I'll pick you up by your fucking legs and drag you back in there." There was the annoyed jokiness.

Alexander held the door open for him.

Drake scoffed, "like I'd let you grab me again. I'll knock you to the floor."

A hearty chuckle left Alexander's lips, " that happened once."

"seven times," Drake corrected, only to hear the playful groan behind him.

Shame fell upon Drake after. He had been so caught up, he didn't realize why it bothered Alexander so much until now. You're wrong, Alexander. Everyone loves those that are strong like you. Not someone like me.

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. It means a lot that I put out a story that people can enjoy! So, I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable).

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What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[lykegenia]

Like glitter And Gold Ch. 9

Fandom/Pairing: The Wayhaven Chronicles/ Nate Sewell x f!Detective Rating: T Warnings: None

Read on AO3

“You, uh, haven’t seen the paper yet this morning, have you?”

Leah glances up at Tina from the login screen of her desktop. “I never read it,” she says, suspicious. “The astrology column is the most accurate journalism in it. Why do you ask?”

“Oh…” Tina takes a swig from her coffee. “No reason in particular. Just –”

The desk phone starts ringing.

Still keeping a leery eye on her former partner, Leah plucks it from the cradle, but barely gets halfway through her name before the mayor starts shouting.

“This is an absolute disgrace! I gave you the benefit of the doubt last time because it was your first case, but if I’m to expect this lack of professionalism every time Wayhaven is faced with a crisis, it might be time to find a more competent replacement. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Um,” she says, eloquently.

“Yesterday you assured me that you were handling this case!” the phone line crackles as flecks of spit hit the receiver.

She learned in her first crappy job in customer service that the best way to deal with situations like these is to tune out the words and let the arsehole on the other end of the line wear down their batteries, so she waits. Deciding on sympathy, Tina creeps forward as if the mayor might realise she’s also in the room and slides a copy of the local paper into her line of sight.

And suddenly it’s very obvious what the mayor’s morning tirade is about.

Most of the front page is taken up by a photo of her and Nate sitting together on the bench outside the museum. Whoever took the picture – and she has a fairly solid guess – has caught the moment that he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, the tender look in his eyes that even now as a distant observer makes her breath catch. They’re leaning close, intimate, smiling. She didn’t know she could look so sappy.

“Are you still there, Detective?” the mayor demands. “Detective!”

“I’m listening,” she lies. The headline below the photo reads FINDING LOVE: But where’s the murderer?

“Are you?” he shoots back. “This is unacceptable!”

She bites back her preferred retort. “I completely agree, sir. At some point I, too, would love to be able to find out about local news through some other medium than a loud phone call.”

“That is –!”

“My investigations are continuing,” she interrupts, “and they will do so without interference from my personal life, or from Bobby Marks, who – as I remember telling you only a few months ago – is not somebody I can control.”

She slams the phone back down without waiting for a response and has to draw a deep, calming breath in through her nose.

“That’ll probably come back to bite you,” Tina points out, with not a little bit of awe.

“I’m going to kill him.” It’s hard to think how else to deal with the vibrant, visceral anger locking her limbs into place. If she moves, she might fling all the stuff from her desk. “I’m actually going to wring his neck and dispose of the body in a vat of acid. I can’t believe even he’d be this – this – petty.”

“It says more about him than it does about you,” Tina soothes. “But even so… you and that agent of yours…”

“Don’t. It’s –”

“Babe, don’t you dare say ‘complicated’. He’s looking at you in that photo like he wants to eat you – which now I say it out loud feels kind of tactless.” A frown. “You know, considering.”

“It’s not relevant right now.” Leah bites it out, a poor substitute for explaining the need to keep Nate separate from work, the itch beneath her skin at having the two halves of her life crash together in such a public way. She knows why Bobby did this, knows it’s a move he calculated well because he knows her, and that galls as much as the photo itself. Nobody is meant to see her like this, exposed and doe-eyed as a tragic heroine, careless enough with her heart that a stranger could capture it on film. Even with the low res of a newspaper image, she can’t tear her gaze from Nate’s, the rich intensity of his eyes, the expression playing around his mouth – and it’s too much. Immense as the edge of a cliff.

“What new leads do we have this morning?” she asks, turning the paper over.

Tina watches her carefully for a moment before dropping her gaze to her notepad. “We have Seakirk’s phone records, finally. There’s a text from a withheld number sent very shortly before TOD, but the delightful person I spoke to at the phone company didn’t think we might want to un-withhold it, so I’ve asked for that to be chased up. In the meantime… Douglas had a strike of brilliance this morning.”

“Oh?”

“He’s decided to go back through the Swordfish’s CCTV from weeks ago to see if he can find anything while we wait, since Seakirk was a regular.”

Leah blinks. “That’s… a surprising amount of initiative.”

“I think you’re having an influence,” comes the teasing reply.

She nods, making a mental note to thank him for the good work, but it’s not something that’s going to offer immediate results. Between that and the phone company, the case is now a waiting game, dependent on other people to do their jobs. There’s nothing that makes her twitchier, especially when it means there’s going to be no distraction from how much she wants to throttle Bobby.

Except, there is one avenue that might have made progress. She’s already moving towards the door.

“Let me know if anything turns up,” she throws over her shoulder. “I’ll be –”

Nate almost collides with her, only managing to cushion the impact by slipping his hands around her waist. The unexpected wash of his scent makes the breath stutter in her lungs.

He smiles. “Careful.”

Her hands are braced instinctively against his chest, so close she has to tilt her head back to see him properly, the look in his eyes so like that in the photo that for a second it feels like she’s taken a blow to the head. There’s something more sombre in it, though, concerned, which she realises at the exact same moment that her face is flaming and that her office has filled with a heavy, dead silence.

“Sorry – didn’t see you there,” she manages. “I was just coming to see you about the journal.”

He gives her a long look. “I finished translating it this morning, but that’s… not entirely the reason I came here.”

Mortification wraps around her like a python.

Tina, sheepish, edges into her line of sight. “I’m going to go pop the kettle on. If I could…?”

They step to the side so she can squeeze through the doorway, Nate’s hands still settled on Leah’s waist as if glued to it, and once they’re alone he heaves a breath and turns his attention fully to her.

“I saw the article Bobby wrote,” he murmurs. “Are you alright?”

She drops her gaze. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He shouldn’t have done what he did.”

“As if that’s ever stopped him.” She snorts. “Vindictive little shit. Why are you looking at me like that?” He’s frowning like he doesn’t believe her, like she’s easier to read than Russell’s book.

“I want you to feel you can talk to me,” he urges. “You can talk to me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Leah –”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she snaps, pushing away. “All of this, it’s…”

She turns and pulls the end of her braid over her shoulder, twirling the end in nervous fingers. In the absence of words, she lets loose a frustrated snarl, and Nate stands there watching her scrabble for purchase like a dog bracing its legs against the sides of an imminent bath. How he can be so placid, she doesn’t know.

“I’m not… good at this,” she tries. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I hate feeling so out of control.”

A frown draws down over his features, though if it’s worry or hurt, she can’t tell. “What do you mean?”

She shakes head, eyes squeezed shut, keeping the words crammed in her throat so that’s the only place they can sting.

“Leah…” he says, and steps closer.

“I knew something would go wrong.” Her knuckles connect with the desk, not quite hard enough to be a punch. “I – Can we just focus on the case? I don’t want to deal with anything else right now.”

When he doesn’t reply, she looks up to find him by the window, staring through the glass with his hands shoved into his pockets and a new stiffness in his shoulders as he tries to put distance between them. The frown has worked its way to the corner of his mouth, turning it down in a way she doesn’t know how to fix.

“Nate–”

The door bursts open again before he can answer. Douglas, his cheeks tinged an embarrassed pink, doesn’t look up from the floor as he holds out the printed photo in his hand.

“I thought you’d want to see this, Detective,” he explains, an awkward, apologetic cough in his throat.

The grainy image is a still from a CCTV camera with a timestamp about three weeks old, showing Russell Seakirk in the same corner booth he was sitting in the night he was murdered, only this time he isn’t alone. A blonde woman is seated next to him, one hand on his arm as he leans close enough to whisper in her ear. Even in the bad lighting, the identity of the woman is obvious.

“Gotcha.” Leah glances up. “Good work, kid.”

“Really?” Douglas grins.

“What is it?”

Her heart seizes as Nate comes to peer over her shoulder, but she disguises the slip as best she can by holding up the evidence for him to see. “Proof that Samantha Harris knew the victim a lot better than she wanted us to think.”

The clock on the wall reads 9 am, plenty of time to tackle the winding roads to the museum before it opens.

“I’m going to go talk to her again,” she decides, grateful or the escape, eager to be on the scent again. “I’ll meet you back at base?”

Nate blinks as she pulls on her coat. “Oh. If you’re sure?”

“Someone needs to tell Adam what’s going on.” She’s a coward. “It’s just going to be a quick chat.”

“Of course.” He flashes her a smile, but his shoulders are hunched, and his hands still sit deep in his pockets.

She tries a smile. “I’ll see you there.”

An instant passes. She starts forward with half an impulse to kiss him, to reassure him that she regrets the brittleness in his expression, but Douglas is still hovering in the middle of the room and the fear that she’ll make things worse tightens in her chest like ice. So she leaves. Her feet march her to the car and the key turns in the ignition and her hands grip the steering wheel as she fights back the prickle of heat behind her eyes. As she pulls in deep breaths to collect herself, a pair of elderly ladies pass on the opposite side of the low wall that separates the station car park from the street, and when one of them glances her way, it’s clear she’s been recognised. The pair huddle into conspiratorial closeness as they walk by, giggling behind their hands.

“Ah, infamy,” she gripes. “Just what I always wanted. Thank you so fucking much, Bobby Marks.”

She shakes her head and puts Nessie into gear; dwelling on it won’t help her solve the case.

--

She pulls up in the museum car park fifteen minutes before opening time, and catches sight of Samantha juggling keys and coffee in a to-go cup. The grumbling of the engine makes the other woman turn, and Leah’s seen enough petty vandals in her time as a beat officer to recognise the split-second reaction of someone wondering whether to run. But they’re on the headland here, with nowhere to go but the woods and a narrow strip of beach below, and despite her flat shoes Samantha’s flimsy office clothes would be no match for comfortable jeans and a pair of sturdy, heavy-soled boots. She decides to stand her ground instead of making a chase of it, offering a fawning smile as Leah steps out of the car.

“Detective! Our museum must have made quite an impression on you if you’re back again so soon.”

Leah waits until she’s within arms’ reach, just in case. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Russell Seakirk were having an affair?”

The smile falls, and with it, all colour drains from Samantha’s face. Beneath a careful mask of concealer and blush, the shadows of her eyes offer a stark contrast to the vibrant, artificial shade of her hair, and only serve to underline the delicate red threading of eyes that have gone too long without sleep. Her lip trembles as she tries to rally.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” she says.

“This looks like you, don’t you think?” Leah counters, unfolding the CCTV image from her pocket. “We also found a blonde hair on his body, just about the same length as yours.”

“My hair isn’t –”

“It is on the museum website.”

Samantha twists her lips together, her gaze falling to the photo for only the briefest moment before she shoves it back into Leah’s hands.

She slips it back into her pocket. “Think carefully before you try to lie to me again.”

Heartbeats pass, with the morning gulls wheeling overhead to catch the updrafts rising from the cliff.

“We met when he was researching the Pegasus,” Samantha admits eventually, caving under the weight of Leah’s patient stare. “He wanted to know about it. He noticed my surname and we started talking.” Something sour passes over her features, like a child petulant about being caught stealing sweets.

“He can’t have been the first to come treasure hunting,” Leah prods.

Samantha rolls her eyes. “Every so often some Indiana Jones type comes waltzing through, convinced they’ll solve the big mystery, but he was… different.” She frowns, troubled. “Before I knew it, we weren’t even talking about the wreck.”

“And you didn’t mention this before because…?”

Instead of answering, Samantha clutches tighter at her coffee cup, as if the warmth it offers might act as a shield between the question and whatever it is she wants to hide. A heavier hand might threaten an interview at the station, but aside from anything else if Leah goes back there now it’s likely Tina will be lying in ambush with an earful for how badly she handled the situation with Nate. She prefers patience, and the stare people have always found a little disconcerting.

“I broke it off,” Samantha says at last.

“When?”

A shrug. “He started talking about running away, starting a new life, how he was so close to getting enough to never have to worry about money again.”

“And you didn’t want that?” Leah guesses.

“What was I supposed to do, leave my job – my life?” She draws her jacket closer against the wind. ��“He thought I’d just drop everything. He – it was just a fling. It didn’t mean anything.”

Leah decides to let it go. “How did he take the break-up?”

Another, more defensive shrug. “He was fine. Maybe a little upset, but he was fine. We went our separate ways.”

Old Detective Reele kept a list of questions for revelations like this, when a person of interest changed their story and the facts had to be teased out from the mess of poor memory and deliberate misdirection. There had never been much call to use it in a town where tacky lawn ornaments were considered serious crime, but he was thoughtful enough to include it in the rushed orientation Leah was given with her promotion. As she works through them all – Did you see him the day he died? What time? Where did you meet? – the answers get more agitated, until Samantha looses an angry huff and throws her arms up in frustration.

“Look, I really wish I could be more help, but I can’t,” she snaps. “We talked down in the woods beyond Hope Point, no one was around, and then we walked in separate directions. I spent the rest of the day at home. Alone, before you ask.”

“Where was your husband?”

She drops her gaze again. “He stays late at the boatyard sometimes. He drinks, he does it there so he thinks I won’t know.”

“Did he know about the affair?” Leah asks. It’s not the question she really wants to ask, but there’s no delicate way to shatter someone’s worldview, and Adam might pop a blood vessel if she tries.

In any case, the only response she gets is a sullen look, answer enough, and apparently resentful of being forced to thrust her husband into the role of prime suspect, Samantha retreats into the museum with her cup of coffee in her hand and an air of wounded dismissal haloed around her.

[wankerwatch]

Commons Vote

On: Opposition Day: Farming and food security

Ayes: 187 (55.9% Con, 34.9% LD, 2.7% DUP, 2.7% Ind, 2.2% PC, 0.5% RUK, 0.5% UUP, 0.5% TUV) Noes: 359 (98.6% Lab, 1.4% Ind) Absent: ~104

Day's business papers: 2024-10-08

Individual Votes:

Ayes

Conservative (104 votes)

Alan Mak Alberto Costa Alec Shelbrooke Alex Burghart Alicia Kearns Alison Griffiths Andrew Bowie Andrew Griffith Andrew Mitchell Andrew Murrison Andrew Snowden Aphra Brandreth Ashley Fox Ben Obese-Jecty Ben Spencer Bernard Jenkin Blake Stephenson Bob Blackman Bradley Thomas Caroline Johnson Charlie Dewhirst Chris Philp Christopher Chope Claire Coutinho Damian Hinds Danny Kruger David Davis David Reed David Simmonds Desmond Swayne Edward Argar Edward Leigh Gagan Mohindra Gareth Bacon Gavin Williamson Geoffrey Clifton-Brown Geoffrey Cox George Freeman Graham Stuart Greg Smith Gregory Stafford Harriet Cross Harriett Baldwin Helen Grant Helen Whately Iain Duncan Smith Jack Rankin James Cartlidge James Cleverly James Wild Jeremy Hunt Jeremy Wright Jerome Mayhew Jesse Norman Joe Robertson John Cooper John Glen John Hayes John Lamont John Whittingdale Joy Morrissey Julia Lopez Julian Lewis Katie Lam Kemi Badenoch Kevin Hollinrake Kit Malthouse Laura Trott Lewis Cocking Lincoln Jopp Luke Evans Mark Garnier Martin Vickers Matt Vickers Mel Stride Mims Davies Neil Hudson Neil O'Brien Neil Shastri-Hurst Nick Timothy Nigel Huddleston Oliver Dowden Patrick Spencer Paul Holmes Peter Bedford Peter Fortune Rebecca Harris Rebecca Paul Rebecca Smith Richard Fuller Richard Holden Robbie Moore Robert Jenrick Roger Gale Saqib Bhatti Sarah Bool Shivani Raja Simon Hoare Steve Barclay Stuart Anderson Stuart Andrew Suella Braverman Victoria Atkins Wendy Morton

Liberal Democrat (65 votes)

Adam Dance Al Pinkerton Alison Bennett Andrew George Angus MacDonald Anna Sabine Ben Maguire Bobby Dean Brian Mathew Calum Miller Cameron Thomas Caroline Voaden Charlie Maynard Charlotte Cane Chris Coghlan Christine Jardine Claire Young Clive Jones Daisy Cooper Danny Chambers David Chadwick Ed Davey Edward Morello Freddie van Mierlo Gideon Amos Helen Maguire Helen Morgan Ian Roome Ian Sollom James MacCleary John Milne Josh Babarinde Joshua Reynolds Layla Moran Lee Dillon Lisa Smart Liz Jarvis Luke Taylor Manuela Perteghella Marie Goldman Martin Wrigley Max Wilkinson Mike Martin Monica Harding Munira Wilson Olly Glover Paul Kohler Pippa Heylings Rachel Gilmour Richard Foord Sarah Gibson Sarah Green Sarah Olney Steve Darling Susan Murray Tessa Munt Tim Farron Tom Gordon Tom Morrison Victoria Collins Vikki Slade Wendy Chamberlain Wera Hobhouse Will Forster Zöe Franklin

Democratic Unionist Party (5 votes)

Carla Lockhart Gavin Robinson Gregory Campbell Jim Shannon Sammy Wilson

Independent (5 votes)

Adnan Hussain Alex Easton Ayoub Khan Iqbal Mohamed Shockat Adam

Plaid Cymru (4 votes)

Ann Davies Ben Lake Liz Saville Roberts Llinos Medi

Reform UK (1 vote)

Richard Tice

Ulster Unionist Party (1 vote)

Robin Swann

Traditional Unionist Voice (1 vote)

Jim Allister

Noes

Labour (351 votes)

Abena Oppong-Asare Abtisam Mohamed Adam Jogee Adam Thompson Afzal Khan Al Carns Alan Campbell Alan Gemmell Alan Strickland Alex Baker Alex Ballinger Alex Barros-Curtis Alex Davies-Jones Alex Mayer Alex McIntyre Alex Norris Alice Macdonald Alison Hume Alison Taylor Alistair Strathern Allison Gardner Amanda Hack Amanda Martin Andrew Cooper Andrew Gwynne Andrew Lewin Andrew Pakes Andrew Ranger Andy MacNae Andy McDonald Andy Slaughter Angela Eagle Angela Rayner Anna Dixon Anna Gelderd Anna McMorrin Anna Turley Anneliese Midgley Antonia Bance Ashley Dalton Baggy Shanker Bambos Charalambous Barry Gardiner Bayo Alaba Beccy Cooper Becky Gittins Ben Coleman Ben Goldsborough Bill Esterson Blair McDougall Brian Leishman Callum Anderson Calvin Bailey Cat Eccles Cat Smith Catherine Atkinson Catherine Fookes Catherine McKinnell Catherine West Charlotte Nichols Chris Bloore Chris Bryant Chris Curtis Chris Elmore Chris Hinchliff Chris Kane Chris McDonald Chris Murray Chris Vince Chris Ward Chris Webb Christian Wakeford Claire Hazelgrove Claire Hughes Clive Efford Clive Lewis Connor Naismith Connor Rand Damien Egan Dan Carden Dan Jarvis Dan Norris Daniel Francis Daniel Zeichner Danny Beales Darren Jones Darren Paffey Dave Robertson David Baines David Burton-Sampson David Pinto-Duschinsky David Smith David Taylor David Williams Debbie Abrahams Deirdre Costigan Derek Twigg Diana Johnson Douglas Alexander Douglas McAllister Elaine Stewart Ellie Reeves Elsie Blundell Emily Darlington Emily Thornberry Emma Foody Emma Hardy Emma Lewell-Buck Euan Stainbank Fabian Hamilton Feryal Clark Fleur Anderson Florence Eshalomi Frank McNally Fred Thomas Gareth Snell Gareth Thomas Georgia Gould Gerald Jones Gill Furniss Gill German Gordon McKee Graham Stringer Grahame Morris Gregor Poynton Gurinder Singh Josan Hamish Falconer Harpreet Uppal Heidi Alexander Helen Hayes Helena Dollimore Henry Tufnell Hilary Benn Ian Lavery Imogen Walker Irene Campbell Jack Abbott Jacob Collier Jade Botterill Jake Richards James Frith James Murray James Naish Janet Daby Jas Athwal Jayne Kirkham Jeevun Sandher Jeff Smith Jen Craft Jenny Riddell-Carpenter Jess Asato Jess Phillips Jessica Morden Jessica Toale Jim Dickson Jim McMahon Jo Platt Jo Stevens Jo White Joani Reid Jodie Gosling Joe Morris Joe Powell Johanna Baxter John Grady John Slinger John Whitby Jon Pearce Jonathan Brash Jonathan Davies Jonathan Hinder Josh Dean Josh Fenton-Glynn Josh MacAlister Josh Newbury Josh Simons Julia Buckley Julie Minns Juliet Campbell Kanishka Narayan Karin Smyth Karl Turner Kate Dearden Kate Osamor Kate Osborne Katie White Katrina Murray Kenneth Stevenson Kevin Bonavia Kevin McKenna Kim Johnson Kim Leadbeater Kirith Entwistle Kirsteen Sullivan Kirsty McNeill Laura Kyrke-Smith Lauren Edwards Laurence Turner Lee Barron Lee Pitcher Leigh Ingham Lewis Atkinson Liam Conlon Lilian Greenwood Lillian Jones Linsey Farnsworth Liz Twist Lizzi Collinge Lloyd Hatton Lola McEvoy Lorraine Beavers Louise Jones Lucy Powell Lucy Rigby Luke Akehurst Luke Charters Luke Murphy Luke Myer Luke Pollard Margaret Mullane Marie Rimmer Marie Tidball Mark Ferguson Mark Hendrick Mark Sewards Mark Tami Markus Campbell-Savours Marsha De Cordova Martin McCluskey Martin Rhodes Mary Creagh Mary Glindon Mary Kelly Foy Matt Bishop Matt Rodda Matt Turmaine Matt Western Matthew Patrick Matthew Pennycook Maureen Burke Maya Ellis Meg Hillier Melanie Onn Melanie Ward Michael Payne Michael Shanks Michael Wheeler Michelle Welsh Mike Amesbury Mike Kane Mike Reader Mike Tapp Mohammad Yasin Nadia Whittome Natalie Fleet Natasha Irons Naushabah Khan Navendu Mishra Naz Shah Neil Coyle Neil Duncan-Jordan Nesil Caliskan Nia Griffith Nicholas Dakin Nick Smith Nick Thomas-Symonds Noah Law Oliver Ryan Olivia Bailey Olivia Blake Pam Cox Pamela Nash Pat McFadden Patricia Ferguson Patrick Hurley Paul Davies Paul Foster Paul Waugh Paula Barker Paulette Hamilton Perran Moon Peter Dowd Peter Lamb Peter Prinsley Peter Swallow Phil Brickell Preet Kaur Gill Rachael Maskell Rachel Blake Rachel Hopkins Rachel Taylor Richard Baker Richard Quigley

Rosie Wrighting Rupa Huq Ruth Cadbury Ruth Jones Sadik Al-Hassan Sally Jameson Sam Carling Sam Rushworth Samantha Niblett Sarah Coombes Sarah Edwards Sarah Hall Sarah Owen Sarah Russell Sarah Sackman Sarah Smith Satvir Kaur Scott Arthur Sean Woodcock Seema Malhotra Sharon Hodgson Shaun Davies Simon Opher Siobhain McDonagh Sojan Joseph Sonia Kumar Stella Creasy Stephanie Peacock Stephen Doughty Stephen Kinnock Stephen Morgan Stephen Timms Steve Race Steve Reed Steve Witherden Steve Yemm Sureena Brackenridge Tahir Ali Taiwo Owatemi Tanmanjeet Singh Dhesi Terry Jermy Tim Roca Toby Perkins Tom Hayes Tom Rutland Tonia Antoniazzi Tony Vaughan Torsten Bell Tracy Gilbert Tristan Osborne Tulip Siddiq Uma Kumaran Valerie Vaz Vicky Foxcroft Warinder Juss Will Stone Yuan Yang Zubir Ahmed

Independent (5 votes)

Apsana Begum Imran Hussain John McDonnell Richard Burgon Zarah Sultana

[elizaneals]

Eliza Neals new 2024 album “Colorcrimes” OUT NOW on Bandcamp

COLORCRIMES-Bluesville-RACK-OF-BLUES-5-25-2024

DEBUT #12 Rack-of-Blues 5/25/2024 THANK YOU SiriusXM Bluesville CH.75

AMAZON

APPLE

SPOTIFY

Blues Rock Review breaks the news on ELiza Neals new album “Colorcrimes” just what the world needs today!

Blues Rock Review just broke the News HERE

Eliza Neals new 2024 album “Colorcrimes” now on Pre-Order at Bandcamp.com drops MAY 24th Everywhere!

PRE ORDER NOW VIA BANDCAMP and get a copy of my latest single “Somethings Better than Nothing” along with the a copy in the mail the second it comes in!

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PRESS RELEASE HERE

ONESHEET

RADIO DISTRIBUTION

Eliza Neals, a modern blues-rock performer, has a powerful message on life that has been a long time coming. “Colorcrimes” was born on-stage to help people soothe their souls in this troubled world. The audience’s tearful reaction convinced her to record “Colorcrimes.” Eliza draws from a diverse group of musicians to capture lightening in a bottle every time.

“Colorcrimes” the album is riddled with stellar musicians and one iconic songwriter. Multiple Grammy winner, ‘Songwriter’ plus ‘Rhythm and Blues Hall of Fame’ inductee, Detroit’s late Barrett Strong Jr. who co-wrote three songs. Returning guitarist, co-producer and songwriter Michael Puwal is back with his outstanding genuine down-home slide playing. You too will find yourself not only searching for the truth in “Colorcrimes,” but your path will be strewn with real-life bluesy narratives drawn from the unbelievable times of “The Detroit Diva” Mrs. Eliza Neals.

Songs: Heal This Land (E. Neals, M. Puwal) 2:42 Banned In Jackson (E. Neals, M. Puwal, HJ) 3:40 Colorcrimes (E.Neals) 5:08 Something’s Better Than Nothing (B. Strong, E. Neals) 3:19 Love Dr. Love (E. Neals, B. Strong, B. Lord) 3:44 Sugar Daddy (B. Strong, E. Neals) 2:53 Candy Store (E. Neals, HJ) 2:53 Found Me Another (E. Neals) 3:37 Friday Night (All Day Long) (E. Neals, M. Puwal, HJ) 3:12

Eliza Neals – Vocals 1-9 / Piano 1-9 / Back Up 2-9 Michael Puwal (Cannon Ball Records) Guitar (1-4,7-9) Brian Lord (Mitch Ryder) Guitar – 5 Studio B Southfield MI Engineer King Solomon Hicks – Guitar, Backing Vocals – 6 Justin Headley (Damon Fowler) Drums – 2, 3 Steve Lacross, Drums – 9 Doug Woern, Bass – 2, 3, 9 Mark “Muggy Do” Leach (Buddy Miles) Hammond B3 – 2, 3 Tim Grogan (Desert Rose) Drums – 4, 5 Jason Kott (Robert Randolph) Bass – 4 Peter Keys (Lynyrd Skynyrd) Hammond B3 + Wurlitzer 200a – 4 Bobby Holland, Engineer Pentavarit Nashville TN – 4 Jeffery “Shakey” Fowlkes (Two Slim) Drums – 8 Luis Resto (Eminem) Clavichord, Piano, Horns – 5 Kamall Malak (Arrested Development) Bass – 5 Nick Haynes (MercyMe) Trumpet – 5 Chris Vega, Bass – 6 Tyrone Smith, Hammond B3, Saxophone – 6 Michael Galante, Drums – 6 Skeeto Valdez (King Konga) Drums – 7 Paul Randolph (Alice Cooper) Bass – 7 John Galvin (Molly Hatchet) Hammond B3 – 7 Kymberli Wright (Straight Ahead) backing vocals – 7 Eric Maluchnik, engineer – 7 Univox 1 Milton FL – Michael Puwal, Mixing Engineer – 1-9 SST Weehawken NJ – Billy Perez, Engineer – 6 Tempermill Ferndale MI – Dave Feeny, Master Engineer 1-9

Produced by Eliza Neals 1-9 Produced by Barrett Strong 4, 6 Co-Produced by Michael Puwal 1, 2 & 8, 9

Published by Elizabeth Thomasian Music (BMI) 1-9 Published by Univox1 (BMI) 1, 2, 9 Published by Not Sampled Music (BMI) 4, 5, 6 Published by Brian Lord 5

Executive Produced for E-H Records LLC

BB Kings BLUESVILLE CH.75 RACK-OF-BLUES CHART

DEBUT #12 on May 25th 2024

Week 2 #13 on June 1st 2024

Week 3 #6 on June 8th 2024

Week 4 #5 on June 15th 2024

Week 5 #5 on June 22nd 2024

Week 6 #4 on June 29th 2024

Week 7 #4 on July 6th 2024

Week 8 #7 on July 13th 2024

COLORCRIMES – Bluesville RACK OF BLUES 6-29-2024 #4

COLORCRIMES-Bluesville-RACK-OF-BLUES-6-15-2024 #5 TOP 15 Songs Worldwide

COLORCRIMES-Bluesville-RACK-OF-BLUES-5-25-2024

AMAZON HOT NEW RELEASES

ELIZA NEALS “COLORCRIMES” TOP 10 Album for SIX weeks!

AMAZON HOT NEW RELEASES Eliza-Neals_Colorcrimes 5-31-24 #3

AMAZON HOT NEW RELEASES Eliza-Neals_Colorcrimes 5-27-24 #10

AMAZON HOT NEW RELEASES Eliza-Neals_Colorcrimes 6-25-24 #8

“COLORCRIMES” on Terresterial/Internet RADIO

[leirsulien-archive]

The excited squeals I made when M almost ripped bobby to pieces

[druidgroves]

a mistake told in four parts

Summary: Your name is Ramona McBride and you’re not sure why you ever dated Bobby Marks.

Notes: another 2nd person wayhaven fic because that’s what i’m doing right now? anyways have fun reading ramona’s shame lol

Your name is Ramona McBride and you are currently looking into your bathroom mirror, applying lipstick for a boy that gives you butterflies.

The lighting in the bathroom of your dorm could be better, making your skin appear a little bit more wan that it actually is, but so far no one’s told you if your foundation is too cakey or your eyeliner too much. Your usually dark brown hair is a bit crispy from the at-home balayage and the way you obsessively straighten it every day, but right now it’s done in slight curls that frame your face. You’ve got on a cute dress borrowed from one of your suitemates and it’s a little too tight but it makes your tits look fantastic, which is really the only thing you were thinking about when she pulled it out from her closet for you. You managed to miss the look she gave you when you told her it was for a date with Robert Marks.

You’ve known of the guy for years, went to school together, and somehow ended up at the same college in the same degree program. You were partnered up for an assignment in your Intro to Journalism class and managed to hit it off. It didn’t take much for him to convince you to go on a date with him.

You look in the mirror, swiping the deep red lipstick across your lips one last time before rubbing them together and winking at your reflection. A knock on the bathroom door pulls you away, your suitemate standing in the doorway.

“Damn, Mona, you look good,” she says, giving you a once over.

You twirl in a playful spin, the hem of her dress flaring out a little, “Thank you, thank you, I always try to dress to impress.”

“Just make sure you wash it before you return it,” she says with a laugh. “When’s he supposed to be here?”

“Any minute now,” you say, checking the time on your phone. “He said six.”

Doubt casts over her features for a moment before quickly disappearing.

“Well…let me know how it goes. Good luck,” she nods, then disappears back into her dorm room.

With one last look in the mirror, satisfied with your appearance, you walk over to your desk and take a seat, checking the time every few minutes.

Six o’clock comes and goes rather quickly.

He’s probably just held up somewhere, you think, happy to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Ten after six, you start to wonder if he had actually said he’d be here at six.

Twenty minutes after, you refrain from texting him, not wanting to be a bother. You’ve never been a clingy girl and you’re not about to start now. Your suitemate comes over to check on you, but you tell her he’s just a little late, you’ll be alright.

Half an hour and some change has passed by the time you get a knock on your dorm room door and you launch yourself across the room to answer it.

It’s Bobby, dressed in a dark button up and his caramel colored hair swept back out of his eyes, leaning casually against the door frame. You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“You’re here,” is all you can say.

“Sorry for being late, it takes time to look this good,” he replies with a lazy smile, then he tacks on, “Angel.”

Despite yourself, the butterflies start again in your stomach with the way he purrs the nickname.

“You ready?”

You nod, “Let me just grab my purse.”

The date ends with the two of you in the backseat of your car, his hands under your dress and his lips on your neck, a soft chorus of angel, angel, angel…

---

Your name is Ramona McBride, and you’re out with your boyfriend Bobby.

You’re also a tiny bit annoyed with him right now.

Before you left your dorm to go grab lunch together, he had looked you up and down and asked, “Is that what you’re wearing out?”

Your ripped jeans and muddy sneakers paled in comparison to the ironed button ups and suede shoes he wore all the time. You know he didn’t mean it in a rude way–probably. He was always telling you that he just wanted you to look your best beside him and you could understand that, you just didn’t think a trip to the nearby burger place necessitated his level of dress. Still, you could appreciate a man with an eye for fashion you supposed.

The looks people give the two of you as you stand in line, you now dressed in a black skirt and flats, makes you a little self conscious, but you do your best to ignore them.

Once you’ve ordered and received your food, you both grab a table by the window. You’ve had classes all morning and are absolutely starving, so you waste no time digging in.

Across the table, Bobby gives you an unimpressed look.

“Try not to bite through the wrapper,” he says, biting off half of a single fry.

“Seriously? I haven’t had anything to eat all day. I had class,” you scoff, but you put down your burger anyways, feeling judged. “Where were you anyways?”

Bobby hadn’t been in the two morning classes you shared, his seat next to yours empty.

“I had a meeting,” he replies simply, hooking your leg with his under the table.

“A meeting?” You raise an eyebrow. “With who? About what?”

“So full of questions today,” he sighs. “It was with the editor of the student paper.”

Your eyes narrow.

The two of you were the top of your journalism classes, a somewhat playful-but-lowkey-serious rivalry between the two of you. You had a conversation last week about applying for your university’s student newspaper, only to find out there was only one spot left on the team. Both of you had resolved to leave it be, not wanting to upset the other if only one of you was offered the position. Or, you thought that’s what the two of you had agreed on.

“I’m on staff now,” Bobby continues, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he looks you right in the eye.

“Are you fucking serious, Robert?”

Bobby looks at you, his smirk now replaced with pursed lips.

“Not even a ‘congratulations’? Don’t be like that, angel,” he starts, putting his hand over your clenched fist. A brief flash of anger makes you consider throwing it off but you refrain. You don’t want to cause a scene. Instead, you sink into the seat opposite of him.

“I just…I just thought we agreed to leave it,” you say quietly.

“I know, I know, but the editor reached out to me, I couldn’t say no,” he replies. “You know how good this will look on my resume.”

Would have looked good on mine, too, you think, but keep that thought to yourself. He’s right–you should be happy for him, so you do your best to conjure up a smile, however weak it may be.

“I…I’m proud of you, then,” you say. “Congratulations.”

“You know,” he says, brown eyes taking on a dark look, “We could always celebrate later in…other ways.”

His eyes flick over to you, boring into your own light green ones. The way he licks his lips, hungry for more than just food, and how he uses his foot to pull your chair closer to his is almost enough to distract you from how he betrayed you.

A fluttery feeling begins in your stomach, but you’re not sure if it’s butterflies this time.

---

Your name is Ramona McBride and you couldn’t be more angry right now.

There’s a dent in the wall of your dorm room from the way you had burst in not even twenty minutes ago, a crumpled up paper on your desk with a bright red F on it, and the taste of vomit on your tongue. Despite the rage funneling through you, the underlying panic and worry in relation to your educational future was enough to make you sick.

You can’t believe Bobby would do that to you.

Well, actually, you kind of can. You honestly should have seen it coming.

His sliminess had been evident from the start, everyone told you so when you had first begun dating, you were just too blind to see. He was cute and frankly, you were lonely. Probably not the best match.

Still…it hurts. A lot.

You pick yourself off the bathroom floor, walking back into your dorm to collapse on your bed. It isn’t until your head hits the pillow that you realize you’re crying. Ramona McBride doesn’t cry, so you have no idea who the fuck is laying in your bed right now, but it certainly isn’t you. You learned at a young age that tears don’t get much other than an annoyed look from one of the several nannies who raised you in place of your absent mother. As a child, you also learned that tears don’t bring back people or comfort.

So yeah, Ramona McBride doesn’t cry.

Angrier now, but softer now that you’ve had a bit of time to yourself, you wipe at your eyes and stare at the ceiling.

“We’ll discuss this when you eventually become reasonable,” he had said after you had yelled at him to get out of your dorm. Of course he would make you out to be the unreasonable one in this situation, of course. Whenever you tried bringing up problems between the two of you, he’d always push them back down with charismatic denials and that stupid fucking pet name you’d begun to hate. You don’t even remember the last time he used your real name.

A notification on your phone is enough to pull you out of your anger for a moment, your finger sliding to unlock it. An email from the university.

Dear Ramona McBride,

You are requested to meet with the Dean to discuss your recent alleged act of plagiarism against Robert Marks as reported by Professor…

You don’t have it in you to continue reading the rest of the email as your anger comes surging back. Your hands are shaking and your vision is tunneling. You want to scream, you want to punch something, but all you can do is squeeze your phone so hard your hand cramps.

And then you start crying. Again.

Turns out, Ramona McBride does cry. And it doesn’t feel good.

Loud, shuddering sobs echo through your dorm room, and you're thankful your suitemates have already left for the weekend. You don’t want anyone seeing you like this.

You feel stupid and angry and sad and mixed in was a part of you, rather recently, that had become homesick. Strangely enough, you miss Wayhaven. You miss the back garden you had spent hours playing in and making your own space. You miss the Square and how perfect it looked during autumn. You miss its familiar streets and walking trails. Hell, you even miss some of your old friends, even if they weren’t always good ones.

You miss Wayhaven and its people more than anything.

Maybe the reason you had hung onto Bobby as long as you did was because he had that little piece of home in him, a familiar face in a city full of strangers. Moving off to the big city for university had once been the goal, but now that you’ve attained it, it seems like it might just be all downhill from here.

---

Your name is Ramona McBride and you’re finally back home.

Somehow, you managed to graduate despite the whole fake plagiarism incident, even if it meant failing the class and having to retake it. It’s been over a year since then and you came out on the other side brighter with a new sense of optimism. You hadn’t talked to Bobby at all since then and he had surprisingly made himself pretty scarce afterwards.

Of course there had been a few bumps, but you didn’t want to dwell on them anymore. Being back in Wayhaven with your own apartment and a job at the local library until you had time to talk to the people at the Wayhaven Press meant starting over instead of going back. Being here on your own terms felt good, even if moving all your belongings up a flight of stairs by yourself to said apartment didn’t. Once everything is unpacked, you and your aching muscles will be grateful.

You’re hauling the rented dolly up the outside stairs of the building, the summer heat making your hands sweaty enough that you’re afraid it might slip out of your grasp, and when you hear a voice from a body you can’t see over the boxes, it almost does.

“My, my, my, is that Ramona McBride?”

Gripping tighter now, you peer around your belongings and dread with a hint of annoyance shoots through your veins.

Bobby Marks looks at you over his sunglasses, a familiar smirk sitting on his lips. Not much has changed since you last saw him, other than the fact that you can feel he’s become more of a dick, but that seemed like a given.

“What the hell are you doing back in Wayhaven?” The question comes out before you can stop yourself.

“I could ask you the same question, angel,” he purrs, pushing his sunglasses into his hair as he starts to walk up the stairs. You’re thankful that with the dolly in the way, he can’t get as close as you know he wants to. “You look like you could use some help. Maybe you can show me your new place while you’re at it.”

You scowl, “As if I’d let you into my apartment after what you did to me.”

A derisive laugh falls from his lips, “You made it out alright, didn’t you? And hey, so did I. Looks like it wasn’t that bad afterall.”

“I almost got expelled, Bobby,” you seethe. You shake your head, taking a deep breath. “What are you even doing here?”

You pray that he doesn’t happen to live in the same building, but the answer he gives is far worse.

“Oh, just visiting a…friend,” he replies, and the way he says the last word makes your skin crawl. Whoever they are, you have to wonder if they’re new to town or just as stupid as you were.

“Gross,” you say flatly, and continue trying to haul your boxes up the stairs.

“Aren’t you curious about what I’ve been up to? What I’ve achieved?” he asks, trying to goad you into more conversation.

“Not really, no.”

“Not even the fact that I’m now the star reporter for the Wayhaven Press?”

Ah.

You look around the boxes again with a glare, “You have three seconds to leave me alone before I let this go down the stairs and crush you.”

“I don’t remember you being so touchy, angel,” Bobby muses.

“One.”

“Come on now–”

“Two.”

You let the dolly tilt forward enough to make him flinch and it seems to do the job, making him step back to the ground floor.

“You’ve changed since I last saw you,” he says, pushing his sunglasses back over his eyes.

“Good,” is all you say and leave it at that, going back to hauling your stuff up the stairs once more as he retreats.

Later that day, once all your boxes are stacked in your living room and you’re laid out on your thrifted couch, your phone buzzes. It takes a second for your sweaty hand to unlock it, but when you do, your eyebrows raise.

Heard you were back in town. Wanna hang? You won’t even have to bring the booze this time lol

Given how gossip travels in this town–and the fact that its biggest proponent had been the first person to see you back–you shouldn’t be too surprised that your old friends know you’re back. It was only a matter of time before they knew, you suppose, and right about now, you’re in the mood to make a few bad decisions. Besides, it might be nice to catch up with some familiar faces.

Your phone buzzes again.

Gonna have to see if you’re still cool though. You in?

You sigh, sitting up from the couch and deciding that you can unpack more tomorrow.

You’re in.

[get-back-homeward]

Spring 1958: Access to All The Records

A million years ago, I had heard somewhere about how the Beatles had early on gotten ahold of the Lomax ethnomusicology collection: recordings of black folk singers in the American South. I’ve always wondered when? how? I myself didn’t get the chance to hear them until college with access to the music department’s library.

Listening to their 1960 home recordings, I felt convinced they’d had them by then. I Don’t Know (Oh Johnny) especially sounds like a teenage boy’s attempt to imitate those recordings. But where on earth would have have gotten access to them as teens?

Well, it looks like Lewisohn tracked down the source. In Spring 1958, John meets Tony Carricker at art school:

By some distance, friendships were the most attractive aspect of art school life for John. He and Tony Carricker gravitated toward each other on the basis of a shared love of music. As Tony puts it, “Early rock freaks found each other like drug takers will find each other.” He still recalls their first conversation, as they walked down the hill into town: “It was like an interrogation: ‘Have you got this?’ ‘Have you heard that?’ ‘Oh, you’ve got that, have you?’—it was like being vetted. I was in.”41 Tony had “Bloodshot Eyes” by Wynonie Harris, he had red label Vogue 78s, he introduced John to Bobby Freeman’s “Do You Want to Dance,” he had country blues and he loved Chuck Berry; when John found out Tony had memorized all the words of “Roll Over Beethoven” he got him to write them down for him. He recalls overhearing John saying to somebody, “He’s got all the records!”

Tony was one of those enthusiasts not merely prepared to accept whatever was available in the local shops but to seek out scarce sounds. He was a gatherer, hungry to expand his knowledge. He’d discovered that the cultural department of the American Embassy in London loaned Smithsonian Institution and other rare records free to applicants, on trust. Packages containing discs by Bessie Smith, Ida Cox, Lead Belly, Big Bill Broonzy, Blind Willie Johnson, Sleepy John Estes and other such fabulously exotic creatures, remarkable field recordings from the American South and rare studio sessions of the 1920s to 1940s, would be dispatched via Royal Mail from Grosvenor Square to Tony’s tiny house in Widnes, the return postage prepaid.

—Tune In (Ch. 8), Mark Lewisohn

Thank Tony, the American Embassy, the Smithsonian, and Royal Mail.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 15

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, The Tension is Growing, Premonitions.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

For a while, you just sat there, your emotions running completely rampant as your thoughts ran laps around your mind. They all knew something that you hadn’t been told. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in your parent's letters, and it was more than Dean had already told you, which you thought had been everything.

Even if you still weren’t convinced he was your soul mate, you had kept your distance from him, only keeping things to friendship. The thought of the whole soul mate thing made your mind snap back to how you’d ended up alone in this room and looked around for a mirror. Finding one hanging over the dresser, you walked over to it and moved your dress so you could see what had only been incoherent lines.

You felt a knot in your stomach as you looked at it. The only letter that had come in was the last one, an n. 

There are other names that end with the letter ‘n.’

You needed to write down every tidbit of information you had at the moment. Quickly scanning the room, you found a notepad and a pen on one of the nightstands. 

No mark at 16. Parents killed at 2. Wounded soul. Shunned by town. Winchesters showed up 3 months before my 25th birthday. Promotion at garage and became Dean’s boss. They joked about him not doing anything funny with me. Sam and Dean knew I didn’t get my mark. Have to fully heal to get my mark. Dean knew something when he met me, and so did the boys at the garage. I could talk to Dean, easily, honestly. He saw me at school. Lisa isn’t Dean’s soulmate. Bobby had us work together on Dean’s first day, and we became friends, quickly. Dean was always thinking of me. The adults knew about the marriage contract and never told me, and they knew my parents hid key documents. Bobby and John were thankful Dean and I hit it off so quickly and became friends.

The more you wrote out, the faster your heart began beating. Most of that had only happened within the first month of meeting the Winchesters. There was so much more that was there, and you needed to see how it all fit together, like the parts of a car. That was how your mind worked, slowly seeing the connections. You’d never wanted to hope to find your soulmate, even after what Dean had said.

My parents left me letters, telling me about the Vaughts.The Vaughts knew what would happen if I lost my parents. They knew about my lineage. They knew I would be an empath.

That last line made you stop and think further.

Wait. Why would that matter? What would be the purpose of making me marry Cole? Why is that important? What about an empath, don’t I know?

You pulled out your phone and began searching online for anything related to empaths and why they’d be important, other than in specific jobs that helped people. There were more things you probably should have written down, but with the questions plaguing your mind, you had to find answers.

Nearly an hour, perhaps longer, passed, and you were still attempting to find anything that would answer your questions. You’d made a few notes, but it was only tiny pieces. One interesting thing was that if an empath found their soulmate, they could hear each other’s thoughts, but there was no conclusive evidence on the distance that worked. That didn’t help your other questions when it came to the Vaught family.

Frustrated, you tossed your phone on the bed and looked back at the list you’d been making. Reluctantly, you picked up the pen and jotted down other things. 

Dean seemed to know what I was feeling even if I hid it.He was always there when I had a nightmare.He never pushed anything intimate.All he ever did was try to comfort me and be there for me.He said he knew I was his soulmate at 16.The Vaughts

At that moment, goosebumps ran down your entire body. The Vaughts knew he was your soulmate. Dean had explained what had happened with that woman, Lisa. Even in your parents' letters, they had told you what the Vaughts were capable of. Now you had new questions, on top of the ones before.

Why didn’t Dean get closer to you? What was holding him back? Why wouldn’t he want to help you heal by being intimately close? What did your twenty-fifth birthday have to do with it all, and why was that date so important? 

That’s when you remembered Sam had told you that the powers that be were keeping this sort of thing from making it to the regular news. You glanced at the closed door of that bedroom and sighed, setting the pen down on the notepad. Yeah, you could storm back down there and demand answers, but what would it accomplish? 

You reluctantly got up and went through your bag, finding some comfortable pajama pants and a tank top. After changing and brushing out your hair, you laid on your back on the bed. You wanted to be alone, but you wanted so badly to have Dean there holding you like he would when you typically felt like this. The fact that he hadn’t come, hurt a bit, but you told yourself he was just busy hanging out with those he hadn’t seen in a while. You’d been the one to storm off.

My life sucks.

The thought made you roll onto your side, pull one of the pillows out from under the covers, and cuddle up to it. Your mark burned again, but you ignored it, no matter how badly it stung. You didn’t want to deal with anything, feeling as overwhelmed as you did. There were far too many questions circling your mind and just as many emotions coursing through your body to let you focus on any one thing, let alone deal with any of them.

With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, exhausted in every sense of the word. Your body, mind, and soul needed rest. So, you let the heaviness in your eyes win, slowly closing them as your body relaxed into the mattress, letting sleep take you.

The sounds of hounds woke you sometime in the middle of the night or perhaps very early morning, pulling you from another nightmare. Your heart was pounding, and your breathing was ragged, but you forced yourself off the bed and to the window as the house seemed eerily quiet. The stillness outside on the grounds of Crowley’s property made you think the shadows were moving, watching you. A shiver ran down your body as you watched three large dogs dart across a section of lawn where a lamppost stood.

He’s here…

The thought scared you, and it was hard to breathe, as if something was pressing against your chest.

Dean…

Without thinking, you ran out of your room, needing to find him, more to reassure yourself that he was okay. Halfway down another hall, you stopped dead in your tracks as an image began forming in your mind. 

It was somewhere outside, on Crowley’s land, around his home. Four men in tactical gear were slowly making their way closer to the house, using the shadows to stay hidden. They almost reminded you of what a SWAT team looked like, guns and all. Now you saw dogs, big, black, fierce dogs, more than a dozen of them, moving in packs of three. They were hunting. They, too, were using the shadows to move, just as silently as the four men. Broken glass and a silent gunshot in one of the rooms of the house. The room was blurry, and hard to make out the details. Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed, and there was a dart on the person's neck, but you couldn’t make out enough details.

You shook your head a bit, pushing the images away. With the emotions swirling through your mind and body, you took a shaky breath, steadying your nerves. Something you had read online teased its way through your mind. 

Follow the thread.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, taking slow, deep breaths and letting them out just as slowly. You knew that in order to find it, you had to accept that Dean was your soul mate, which both terrified you and brought you a sense of peace. When you opened your eyes again, you turned to the direction you’d come from, feeling a strange pull.

The darkness in Crowley’s mansion wasn’t what brought the feelings of dread that seemed to seep into your nerves. It was the eerie silence, not even the dogs outside making a sound. The shadows seemed to dance or move of their own accord. You set your hand on the wall, letting it guide you through the darkness.

You tried to find that thread, but it eluded you. Some light came in through the large windows near the stairs that led down the main room. For a moment, you looked outside. The grounds were still, and that stillness felt out of place. A shiver ran down your spine as the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. It was like someone was watching you.

When you were able to pull your gaze from the window, you continued down the stairs, creeping quietly through the main entrance. Cautiously, you opened the dining area doors. You almost felt like a mouse thrown into a game of cat and mouse that you had no control over. Swallowing hard, you looked under the table. You let out a sigh of relief, having found nothing there. Finally managing a deep breath, you pushed yourself through the dining room and into the kitchen. 

The light wasn’t on, none of them were, and you hadn’t come across anyone, not even servants. For a moment, you thought you’d seen the flash of a light outside one of the kitchen windows. Slowly, you crept closer to it, cautiously glancing around. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure it would give away your location. 

A shadow that moved in the darkness outside the window sent a wave of fear throughout your body. Slowly, your hand covered your mouth, and you began backing up just as slowly. Someone came up behind you when you reached the center of the kitchen, wrapping one arm around you and putting a hand over your mouth. Just as you were about to scream, he spoke.

“Shhh, it’s me, Sweetheart,” he whispered softly, slowly taking his hand from your mouth.

You swung around in his arms and wrapped yours over his shoulders. “I was so worried something had happened to you,” you whispered, keeping your voice down.

“I’m okay,” Dean quietly tried to reassure you, holding you close, while also keeping a watchful eye. “Come on, it’s not safe here.”

Dean quietly but quickly led you to what looked like a study. There were no windows here, but the entire staff, Crowley, and Benny were there. There were also a couple of other men, although you hadn’t met them before. Dean pulled you into his arms after he closed and locked the door, wanting to help calm your nerves.

“Good, you found her,” Crowley said, both relieved and pleased, but he wasn’t happy that Dean had gone looking for you.

Dean just shot him a glare but stayed quiet; his focus was only on you now. Benny stayed leaning against a nearby wall, his arms crossed, unhappy with the situation.

“What’s going on?” you finally asked in a whisper, not wanting to mention the images you’d seen from earlier.

“Nick isn’t one to follow the orders of anyone,” Crowley sighed. “It’s why I arranged to have the three of you brought here until the next court date. The FBI isn’t capable of keeping anyone safe from that family.” 

Slowly, you looked over at him but stayed in Dean’s arms. “You knew they’d come after me?” you asked, a little confused.

“Love, he’s not just after you. He needs leverage, to make you comply. Figured you would have realized that already.” Crowley stated as he shot Dean a knowing look, which you didn’t miss. “That whole family knows they only have so much time before you’re useless to them.”

That made your brow furrow in complete confusion. You pulled away from Dean, looking up at him, now needing answers. “What haven’t you told me?” you asked him bluntly, but also were terrified of the answer.

You saw the sadness flash across his eyes before he hid it, even if he couldn’t look at you. “If Cole marries you before your mark comes in, it won’t matter who your soulmate is, your mark will change to his name, because you’re an empath.” Dean finally confessed quietly.

The silence in the room was deafening, but your heart was pounding, and again, it felt like you could barely breathe. For several moments, all you could do was stand there in a state of shock. It was the final piece to the puzzle that made everything else make sense, and the thought of that terrified you. 

“How do I make my mark come in all the way?” you asked quietly, your voice shaky, and your nerves felt like they were all exposed and firing all at once.

Dean finally met your gaze, as it had never left him. There was pain and hurt in his eyes, but you also saw a hint of hope. You could see his hesitation like he wanted desperately to give you the answer, but something was holding him back.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley’s exasperated words broke the silence. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”

That made both you and Dean jump a little, but you never looked away from him, even when he shot Crowley another glare before looking at you again. He managed a deep breath, but it was shaky. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, the man who had been standing near Crowley, watching monitors, spoke up.

“The Hellhounds have done their job. I’ll inform the police and the FBI,” the man told Crowley, his British accent thick.

Crowley took an annoyed breath, “Thank you, Ketch. You may all return to your rooms. The situation has been handled.”

With a heavy heart, you went to the door first, unlocked it, and headed toward your room. The staff followed you out, Ketch bringing up the rear, but Dean and Benny stayed behind with Crowley. You rubbed the place where your mark was, your gaze on the floor as you slowly made your way back to your room.

Dean’s words seemed to play on repeat through your mind. At least now you understood why the powers that be had kept something like this under wraps. If it got out, there were far too many grim possibilities that could happen. What was bugging you was that Dean knew more; they all did, and you still hadn’t gotten all the answers you needed.

You closed your bedroom door but couldn’t relax, so you paced a few feet from the foot of the bed. Your mind swam with questions. After several minutes, you finally just plopped down on the foot of your bed, frustrated, when you felt a sharp stinging feeling on the side of your neck. Just as you reached for it and your vision went blurry, someone came into view as they stepped out of the closet, and then everything went black.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 16

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[aus-wnt]

https://www.theage.com.au/sport/soccer/she-has-all-the-ingredients-the-puzzle-pieces-that-put-kerr-among-the-world-s-best-20211210-p59gil.html?utm_medium=Social&utm_source=Twitter#Echobox=1639112469-1

‘She has all the ingredients’: The puzzle pieces that put Kerr among the world’s best

Tom Sermanni has seen a lot in football, but he’ll never forget the first time he saw Sam Kerr play. She was 14, coming out of the Western Australia institute, and about to make her W-League debut for Perth Glory.

She looked every part the young teenager she was – until she started moving. Kerr was quicker than the adults, had a burst of power like few others, and could somehow leap above the centre-backs that towered over her.

“She could jump like a gazelle, she had a presence about her on the field and she looked like she could always score goals,” Sermanni said. “She immediately caught your attention.”

Height was never a problem for Kerr. As a teenager, she could leap above seasoned defenders to win aerial duals. Today, she stands at 1.67 metres tall. She’s far from a towering presence but remains one of the world’s most dangerous strikers in the air.

It was a trait that wasn’t obvious initially because she was deployed out on the wing in her early years but gave Sermanni the impression her future would be closer to goal. “In the back of our mind, she always had the quality to make it as a centre-forward,” he said.

That outstanding vertical leap was one of the reasons her former A-League women’s coach, Bobby Despotovski, moved her into the strikers’ role.”

She can head the ball, she has a very, very good leap. Not many strikers in the world can out jump Sam Kerr. She is very, very good in the air,” he said.

But that’s just one part of what makes Kerr the dominant player she has become.

Pace

While Kerr is an outstanding header of the ball, it’s her speed that is perhaps her most dangerous attacking attribute. From a young age, Kerr was always quick. However, it wasn’t just her pace that made gave her so much potential but the dynamism and power in her acceleration.”

Even at that age she was dynamic, that’s the first thing that stood out,” Sermanni said. “She always had that pace. It was pace with power. Some players are kind of quick, but they don’t look that quick – they sort of glide. Sam had a real power, she reminded me of a young Frank Farina.”

It’s been part of her weaponry that hasn’t evaporated with age. If anything, it’s gone to another level since her move to England in 2019. Remaining just as speedy but now more powerful, she’s added more intelligence to her movement that makes her near impossible to mark.

Few players worked as hard to crack the professional tier as those of Kerr’s generation. Undoubtedly, it was one of Australia’s brightest. Her class of juniors included Emily van Egmond and Caitlin Foord – among the first names on the team sheet of today’s Matildas.

Within two years, all three were fully capped senior national team players. Sermanni was the coach who unearthed the trio. Kerr came first, playing for Australia at the age of 15 in 2009. It was a role she balanced with two junior national teams, two clubs and an institute.”

At that particular time they were playing in the W-League, under 17s, under 20s and the senior team,” Sermanni. “They were like full-time footballers even at that age of 15, 16. 17. That grounding and education and games they got was huge for their development.”

Work ethic

Kerr worked extremely hard to get to where she is. However, goals weren’t always in abundance for her. Initially deployed as a winger, she started her career as a provider of goals rather a scorer of them. She had an instinctive knack for scoring, but hadn’t been trained as an out-and-out striker. When she made the transition to become a centre-forward, under Despotovski at Perth Glory in 2015, she took to the new position like a duck to water.

“She wants to work extremely hard to improve her game in all aspects,” he said. “We changed her position from a winger to a striker when she joined Perth. The simple reason was, I was thinking she was not utilised enough at the winger position because she was so far away from the goal, and why would you limit such a footballer like that to be on the wing rather than being a number nine and being close to the goal?”

She worked tirelessly to improve her finishing. She studied positional play intensely and always sought to improve herself.

“The biggest learning from me about her is that even though she’s achieved all these things, and is doing all the things that she does for club and country, there is this inner drive, that maybe not too many people see, to be better,” Matildas assistant coach Mel Andreatta said. “She is always thinking about football, not just the team but her own performance and how she can get better.”

Technique

With that relentless desire to get better, Kerr’s skills sharpened. She always had a great first touch and technique but until it was applied to her finishing, the task of moulding her from a winger to a striker would have been fruitless. That’s why Despotovski focused heavily on improving her finishing with both feet, from distance and close range while coaching her at Perth.”

We exposed some weakness in her game which was her finishing. Not being a striker, we had to work on that and that was the five-year period she was playing with us,” Despotovski said. “Now she is striking the ball with the left and right equally as good. Now what I saw on the weekend in the FA Cup, that goal she scored chipping the goalkeeper – that never used to be present in her game.”

Today, Kerr can score from distance. She also has the instinct of a poacher. She is lethal on the counter and a threat in the air.“

Look at those two finishes in the FA Cup final – full pace, she’s running towards goal, sees the keeper caught in no man’s land, and dinks them,” Andreatta said. “What I do know about Sam is she doesn’t shy away from areas of improvement. You’ll often see her at the end of a national team session working on different ways to finish, different techniques from different zones. Again, it relates to that inner drive and determination to be the best footballer – probably in the world.”

Football intelligence

However, all the ball skills in the world are useless unless a player can get into positions to score and make runs at the right times. Kerr always had the pace and power to do just that, but it wasn’t until she moved to England to join Chelsea in 2019 that she truly mastered her movement and mobility.

According to Sermanni, in her early years, Kerr was “a little bit inconsistent, as are all young players���. Today she operates on a higher level, for longer periods.

Watching from afar, the most significant change Sermanni sees is to do with her decision-making and movement. “Since she’s gone to England, she has taken her game to another level where she is an absolutely completely accomplished player,” he said. “Now her football IQ, her knowledge and decision-making is outstanding.”

According to Andreatta, that drastic improvement in her off the ball movement and sharp decision-making in possession is a testament to Kerr’s dedication and thirst to improve.”

Her knowledge and awareness of space, the opponents around her in that space, and how she uses it, has gone to another level,” she said. “That’s through her watching the game, this thirst to be even better, and training and playing daily against the best footballers in the world ... against the best, you have even less time to make decisions.”

Attitude

“You play football with your head and your legs are there to help you” – Dutch great Johan Cruyff.

The only thing more memorable than some of the wonderful goals Kerr has scored is the smile on her face after every one of them. Sometimes it’s accompanied by a backflip.

Even at the age of 28, Kerr plays with the exuberance of a child running out on a Saturday morning. It’s part of her charm. In an era of highly professionalised sport where players deal with everything from insecure contracts, endorsements, fan commitments, media scrutiny, social media bombardment and pressure from coaches, clubs and country, Kerr manages to never lose sight of the joy of the game.”

It was obvious from early on she had the raw materials, and it was obvious she had the confidence and attitude to cope with whatever she needed to cope with. She had all the ingredients,” Sermanni said.

The former Matildas’ boss recalls national team away trips where several teams would stay inside the same hotel. Within hours of arrival, Kerr would have talked with players from every team. “She would just be friends with them all. She was like a magnet for players, whether it was Japan, Vietnam or South Korea,” he said.

It was part of her carefree persona. Jovial, fun and happy – often masking an extremely competitive and professional streak. “She just had an attitude – people talk about playing with a smile on their face, she always did that. When you won, she was happy,” Sermanni said.

“She was a classic player where she plays a game with passion and fierceness but she always plays with an enjoyment and a smile and that’s been evident throughout her career.”

Leadership

For all her obvious talents, few ever touted Kerr as a future captain of the Matildas. In her earlier years, she was a lovable larrikin. In many ways she still is. She doesn’t have the hard nose of archetypal captains nor the harsh, loud demeanour. Instead, it’s her burning desire for constant improvement that earned her the Matildas’ armband.

Former Australia coach Ante Milicic saw a leader in Kerr during his first team meeting in 2019. Kerr was first in the room, sat front and centre and was the most engaged. She backed it up with impressive performances on the training field to show how she’s a leader by example.“

In many ways she really reminds me of Tim Cahill, to be perfectly honest. She’s confident, she has that belief, she carries the team and her work ethic and her discipline and the way she’s handled herself from the very first team meeting,” Milicic told the Herald and The Age at the time. “She leads by her actions on the field. There are a few examples from what I’ve seen prior to meeting her, and meeting the squad and just working with her in the last few days, it was just confirmation for me.”

Every so often, Despotovski messages Kerr to congratulate her on her latest result, goal or performance. He may have played a role in her progress but doesn’t take credit for her development.

He does, however, crack a wry smile when he reminds her of his prediction five years ago when he moved her from the wing to centre forward.

“I had an opinion in 2016, I said if Sam Kerr starts scoring more goals she will be the best player in the world,” he said. “Sam thought I was crazy – she laughed at me.”

[siegelst]

Anonymous asked [

Curiosity - Passage of time [ Day 30 - escape] by Anonymous

Rated Explicit Mature 18+

clothes kink, major size kink, voice kink, karl has part lycan in him, scent-marking, tits, Karl's new roommate tries to escape.

warning: don’t know German but using google instead, sorry.

Day 30  - Escape

"Foreigners seem to have broke in your factory." said mother Miranda.  I scoff at this siting back with legs spread out, puffed a cigar. A faint echo of panic went through me. But I had a lie ready to recited. Believe in the lie. It’s been a month since that happened and now she discovers it.  "Why haven't you alerted me of these people?"

"Cause it’s very easy. They all dead! They f*cken died the day they broke into my factory." I barked, waving around my cigar in my left hand.  "I would think super size bi^ch would have said something after i left their bodies outside her door,"

"Only 1 out of the 5 you gave me was good." said super size bi^ch.  

"Oh? No thank you for me?" I sneered back, leaning forward.

"I thought there were 6?" muttered fish freak.

"You'll can't have all the fun! I wanted fun. So I used the last one before she met her end to Sturm." I gloat as i sit back, blew smoke before saying "She screamed wonderfully."

"Ugg you horrible disgusting man thing." She screeched.  I rolled my eyes as i puffed my cigar.  As if she wasn't taking in maidens in to do live experiments and have them bleed dry for her wine.  At least when i do experiments they are dead subjects. Device on me, made a noise. Motherf*cker. The meeting didn't end until 20 minutes later. 

female p.o.v.

After managing to pick the lock,  I started for the elevator before studying the map of the factory.   I went for the stairs that went down.  I ran into some rooms, some had medical tables.  having no idea where i was even if i had a map with me. I get lost easily.  If i find more stairs i get out of here right?  

The factory was noisy and the temperature was getting hot humid.  An Hour later i was still going through random halls. 30 minutes later i’m falling into a pit full of metal scraps. I climbed through the wreckage before finding a ladder high up.  I had to jump to the first bar before pulling up and walked along the metal beam. To find a landing with a machine with a level on it. I pushed it down. Nothing happened. Darn. Must not be enough energy.  

I found another walk beam that connects to main flooring. 20 minutes later i was in end of hallway before I looked down to see a bars blocking a tunnel that could be moved. After pulling i finally get it to move before crawling through the cobwebs tunnel.  I hear static as if from out of tune radio as i pulled myself out.  Ending up in a narrowed hall.  

"Oh Buttercup, you better not be escaping. I will find you." Oh no i thought he was gone for the day. As i crept toward other end of hall, go through another room, to see one his creation to be laying on table behind cage fence.  I couldn't get through.  "Best to turn yourself in and no one gets hurt"

Maybe i could break down the cage fence. Or go back into the tunnel. a snicker was heard. "You're lost again, buttercup?"  

I went back through the tunnel before going down a hallway. Crap, didn't i go through here before? I’m back in the rooms where medical tables at again, second guessing myself.  I open 1 door to see the walls littered with various sharp knives  and saws before closing it.   "You going in circles, darling.  You're lost! admit it!"

"Shut up"  I muttered as I started to try any door to get away. A booming laugh echo though the speakers. I took too many turns and find myself falling falling down until hitting cold water. 

I gasped & cough after resurfacing.  It was dark where I’m at. I find stable ground to pull myself out of the water and looked up to see how far I fallen. pretty dam* far apparently. Looks like I’m at rock bottom. I didn’t hear boss over the speakers. Maybe the speakers don’t reach down here?  walked some steps away before remembering i did have my phone on me. turning on the flashlight feature - i moved it around to see where i was.  Seems like these metals were abandon and i could see a old motorbike connected to a tank wheels, but didn’t seem to be finished yet.   I moved around some more before accidentally bump into a metal contraption.  Stepping back and walking around it i could make out that the metal contraption was a metal horse. Now that is neat and pretty. if only boss makes something like this instead of using dead bodies.

I turn around the humongous room before pausing to see shoes. for a second i thought it was my boss. but noticing that the shoes look old, ripped, and way bigger than his, and hearing a animal growl got my heart in my throat. Moving the light up up up to barely see a hairy man with the wildest mane of a lion that been fried from the snow.  I gulped and started backing up. I barely make out the sharp fangs, canines, the ripped clothes and the blood splatter on him and the gigantic hammer he was holding only shown slightly when reflected from the light cause the flashlight can only go so far. The dude looks to be 13 ft tall. I met my first lycan.  

The lycan picked me up in one hand, looked back to see the floor getting further further away, as i turn back to be inspected by the lycan. i raised my arms to cover my face. hearing the loud sniffing sounds filled my ears before we were interrupted by a voice.

“Now now Urias, don’t eat her.” said my boss, his voice dripping like hot caramel, as lights began to flicker on.  I see the lycan clearer and more terrifying, see metal scraps floating around  the room and see. . . my boss - using the metal scraps to walk down to us like a escalator. I glanced at the lycan as if to say ‘You seeing what i’m seeing?’. the lycan gave the an unimpressed look.  Boss landed on the ground, walking towards us, talking lower, his eyebrows raised up slightly. “Give her to me Urias. Now.”

There seem to be a warning in the way he spoke that line. If i had looked around I would noticed something was aiming at the lycan. but was too busy looking at the teeth on the guy. they were smeared with blood. The lycan didn’t want to for some odd reason. I’m cold from the water being held up 12-13 feet in the air by a lycan and I’m tired, and my shock is almost over so i could scream anytime.  I covered my face again as the lycan went near to sniff at me again before feeling something run up my face quickly, warm wet. . . . did the lycan just licked me??  Feeling i was being lowered before boss snatch me back, shoving me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. was it me or did he sighed in relief? nah my tired mind just playing tricks on me. “Thank you Urias. Go back to your den.”

He turned away to walk somewhere. I push on his back to glanced back at the large lycan, he was still standing there and the hammer was huge, dripping with blood against the floor. sh*t maybe boss was worried about the lycan eating me.

I was back at square one in the cell as boss threw me onto the old mattress. Leaning over me, his hand grip my face, him furious.

"You’re dam* lucky that Urias didn’t see you as wolf chow, Buttercup.” He hissed at me. His forearm was hot against my wet cloths. “Otherwise I be mopping up your remains of your bones if it wasn’t.”

A metal chain cuff clicked my ankle. He pulled me right up against him my body leaving the bed slightly. “How the F*ck did you get out?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, giving him the look of ‘I ain’t telling you.’.  Next thing i know i was, thrown over his thighs  - his thighs against my stomach and felt a hard smack on my backside. D-did he just spank me?? once the shock of him spanking me I start to yell and struggling but he wasn’t budging.  He was yelling in German.

Heisenberg. p.o.v. 

The bi*ch brought this on onto herself. i thought as I laid a harsh hand against her cloth backside. “Du undankbare Schlampe, du hättest getötet werden können von Urias. Oh, jetzt bist du wütend? naja ich bin es auch. Hör auf herumzuschlagen, Scheiße.” 

Finally i get to see my new roommate mad. she was drench from her trip in the water channel, wetting my clothes in result of it. Her cloths sticking to her like second skin leaving nothing to my imagination. view of her nipples perked through her thin layer of tank top and my button up shirt dripping with excess water onto the cell floor. I pulled her back by her hair to drag her up to see if she’ll tell me. she shook her head.  Darling i could do this all day. I felt myself stiffen. Her cries and angry shouts means nothing.

Knowing where she was roughly when she fell, still didn’t stop my heart skip in panic. Arriving to sight of her in the hands of a12 ft lycan in the air, water glistening on her skin, her collarbone, neck, face, her tits tightening due to the cold, practically begging to be touch, and seeing Urias taking an interest in her was enough for me to start sweating. Of course she runs into the tallest lycan there is.

Her shocked face was barely make out with Urias hand snaked around her middle easily. F*ck even I was getting nervous. Urias licking her was a heart-stopping - almost had me shoot a rod between the bunny and the giant wolf. as he lowered the lass back to me, gave me huge relief she was back to me unharmed. her wet body bumping against my back, shoulders and chest as i stomped back to the cell was torture. I was brought to present as her finally breaking, sobbing over my lap. I felt myself twitch. 

“How the F*CK did you get out?” I growled, my hand cupping her under her chin to raise her up. I feel burn of her skin, my forearm brush against her tits briefly, making my cock jump in interests.  

“Bobby pin.” she hiccuped, trying not to cry in front of me. I glanced down toward the door of the cell, and sure enough see a non-metal bobby pin on the ground.

I shoved her off my lap, her hitting to cold cell floor, another chain attached to her other leg, her cold body shaking. I nudge her so she lay on her back, and pressed my shoe lightly onto the side of her stomach. She looked up at me in daze confused as she glanced at my shoe worriedly, her body displayed for me. before I removed my foot.

“Better get comfortable Buttercup” I said, as I stood, walked out of the cell. “You going to be here for a while.” 

Closed the cell, after obtaining the bobby pin and walked out of the room, ignoring her yapping, I have business to take care of.

translation:

You ungrateful bi*tch, you could have been killed by Urias. oh now you're angry? well so am I. Quit thrashing around, f*ck

[ravenadottir]

chapter 5

“I reckon is Soph.” Bobby suggested, whispering, glancing at his partner with the cheekiest of winks.

“What?” the librarian tried to keep his tone casual as the others looked at him. “It can’t be… sh-she barely likes the stuff she wears here...” He remembered how uncomfortable she was, the other night, in a tight dress, shaking his head with his brows creased. “Not her. It’s Priya. It has to be.”

“No offence, Noah, but um… I don’t care about the game’s points…” the crane operator chuckled, raising his brows at Bobby, almost as if asking for permission. Granted, he turned to walk the short distance towards the student, casting a look to ask if he was allowed to kiss her.

“Are you ok with this?” Noah nudged Bobby, still focusing on the scene happening right in front of their eyes, his heart pounding a little too strongly.

“Soph and I aren’t a couple…” the pastry chef shrugged but didn’t watch, facing the waves crashing over the beach, just below the villa property.

“We think it’s Sophia.” Gary’s hands held the sides of her face as he brushed his lips on hers, softly planting a kiss, the girl very welcoming of his gesture.

Marisol wasn’t pleased, and even interjected with disappointment. “Wow…”

No one really understood what she was on about. Her couple wasn’t exactly the next wedding to be scheduled, and as much as she liked raving about putting yourself first, she showed a side of jealousy no one really got why.

“Anyway… we think it’s Soph.”

“And that is… wrong.” Hope declared, marking a point for the girls, on the board, Priya stepping forward and winking at Gary, her expression smug,

“Your loss, babes.” She said, watching as he laughed on his way back, but not before winking at the girl he just kissed.

“I wouldn’t say ‘loss’, but pop off, Priya.”

Annoyed, and not aware of their own reaction, Bobby and Noah huffed.

“Something wrong there, Noah?” Gary asked, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“No.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yep.” 

hey! a little delayed, but i had some issues with our trip, and no internet whatsoever. but here’s chapter 5, featuring the ‘kiss and tell’ challenge, and lots of drama lurking!

let me know what you think, i loved writing this one, and i hope you love reading it!

❥ ch. 1 //  ❥ ch. 2 //  ❥ ch. 3 //  ❥ ch. 4 //  ❥ ch. 5

❥ sophia, the o.c // ❥ noah’s masterlist

credit to @ariendiel​ for noah’s faceclaim.

[electricshoebox]

wip wednesday

Happy Hump Day everyone. Not tagged this week, just marking progress. Tagging in turn @adventuresofmeghatron, @just-another-wasteland-merc, and @mercurymiscellany. Just if you’d like to share!

If you follow me and would like a tag on writing memes in the future, give this post over here a like!

I did some more wrestling with this scene on Monday and I think it’s mostly where I want it. My goal is to get it posted before the end of March. Anyway, here’s another little piece of Ch. 16 of The Eye of the Storm:

Deacon waits until they reach the stairs to let out a low whistle, nudging MacCready’s shoulder with his. MacCready pauses at the railing, half a grin surprised onto his face. “What?”

“That was smooth,” Deacon says. The guards still seem uninterested in them, but he keeps his voice low anyway.

MacCready cocks an eyebrow. “You think you’ve got a monopoly on lying through your teeth?”

Deacon snorts. “I’m not surprised you’re good at it, Bobby. I’m just surprised he bought it that quick.”

MacCready shrugs and starts down the stairs. “I used to come here on caravan runs, back when I was just starting out after Lamplight. Kept it going for a while, when I couldn’t find other work. Same reason I know Vadim. Danny was just starting out back then. Bought him a beer once or twice. Figured having a friend in the guard couldn’t hurt. And I was right.” He throws another glance over his shoulder, smirking.

“Keep your enemies close?” Deacon finds himself smirking back.

“Keep your friends in high places,” MacCready says.

“Ha.” Deacon looks away, down the last few muddy stairs. It’s advice he might’ve given, once. Something to whisper to a round-eyed recruit under the smoke of a crowded bar.