#damnit melvin

[dib-thing-wannabe]

The Neverending Nightmare

As George finally made it to his bed, he flops down on it, hoping that everyone and everything is forgotten about this night by the time he wakes up. You would think that his racing thoughts would make it harder for him to fall asleep, but that wasn't the case tonight.

George opened his eyes to an open, peaceful field. It was filled with all kinds of flowers, ranging from merrigolds to morning glories. In the middle of this field, there was a dip in the ground. What was in the dip? Curious, he went to the dip to see what was happening.

When he finally gotten close enough to see it, it was a pit in the ground. A large, deep pit. Around the pit, there was the entire school circled around it, staring deep down. At the furthest end of the pit from George, there stood Mr Krupp, Harold and Melvin. Now even more curious, he approached the kids he was closest to.

He tries speaking, but nothing came out, just pure silence. Instead, he taps on a students shoulder to capture their attention. They turns around to meet his gaze, yet their eyes... they were soulless. It's like they weren't even alive. After a few seconds of silent staring, the kid falls backwards into the pit. This caught the attention of the other kids, and slowly, they start doing the same.

George than had a moment of panic, realizing that Harold, Melvin and Mr Krupp would soon do the same. Quickly, he ran to the other side, as the body's are falling into the pit beside him.

As he finally meets them on the other side, he shakes their body's, trying to capture their attention. They turned to meet him, yet they look the same. Their eyes aren't soulless, and they look alive, with smiles on their faces. George takes a deep breathe, knowing that they are safe.

Suddenly, Harold's entire body was frozen, crying and reaching out to George. Melvin's body is on the ground, burned from electricity. And Mr Krupp... his body is melting from his bones. George, caught off guard by this, starts hyperventilating, as quite laughter surrounded him. It started getting louder and louder, as the body's started decaying more and more. He wanted to scream but he couldn't. He wants to scream, he needs to scream, he has to scream-

"AAAAAAAAAH-!"

George woke up in a daze, eyes filled with tears. Still hyperventilating, he looks around him. He's in his room, the day has not changed, and everything is fine. They are fine.

He starts silently crying to himself, still shook up from the dream. He shakily starts wiping away his tears with his sleeves as they continue to fill his eyes.

"God fucking damnit, not that dream again... w-why won't it go away..."

[doomfox]

damnit Sticks and Metal Sanchez is poisoning my brain I must write

Metal doesn’t realise he’s a machine and goes by a different name. 

Sonic: “Look. Melvin. I know you’re a little screwed up in that noggin’ o’ yours but you are NOT a real hedgehog!”

Metal/Melvin: “GET OUT OF HERE, WACHOWSKI.”

Sticks: “And they call OUR pa crazy, huh Melv?”

[internutter]

Challenge #02193-E364: Baby Steps Please

Welcome to wizardry, where people with awful ideas and no social skills invoke supernatural forces to gain power and respect. Almost makes you want to tap out and start a little shop selling healing potions, huh? -- Anon Guest

They say that anyone could be a wizard. They never say whether or not anyone should be a wizard. This was zipping through Lady Anthe's mind as she raced after Melvin and the phantasm he had conjured. She was the fastest of the group and Melvin had Wraithvine's wand.

The good news was that a phantasmal steed was only good for one hour. The bad news was that that might not be the spell that Melvin had accidentally managed to cast. The magic within him had truly erupted in a spectacular way.

Anthe sprang between trees that the... whatever... had had to go around, carrying a screaming Melvin with it. In a handful of leaps, she was on him and screaming, "Tell it to stop! It's yours! Tell it to stop!"

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for a link to the rest of this story, and details on how to support this artist]

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1  // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3  // Read on A03

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

tagging @today-in-fic​

CHAPTER 4

3rd District Precinct Washington, DC

The modest forensics lab was situated in the basement of the precinct building. A fitting location. It was always a strange trip downstairs, almost like walking into a spook house at an amusement park. You’d notice every creak from the antiquated filing cabinets, there were shelves of textbooks, yellowing medical journals, rows of glass jars containing shriveled specimens. The morgue was tucked away in a corner with a series of metal doors on the tiled wall and a surprisingly shiny slab resting comfortably over a drain in the floor. No more room at the inn by the look of it. Autopsy tools hung neatly on the wall like a butcher’s knife set; at least in this corner the boys kept things tidy. I walked a little deeper into the lab and saw Byers flipping through an issue of National Geographic. I cleared my throat as I approached.

“Mulder. What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Byers asked, dropping the magazine in his lap. The 3rd was fortunate enough to have three pillars of forensic science in Melvin Frohike, Richard Langley, and John Byers. They had their finger on the pulse of crime investigation techniques and were eager to share their findings with practically anyone who would listen. A good deal of the jargon went over my head but it enhanced my vocabulary to say the least. 

“Frohike called me regarding Spender’s case,” I replied, “We might have a golden ticket on our hands.” 

“He and Langley have been upstairs for a while but they should return soon. Have a seat.” He motioned to a wooden stool near a cluttered lab counter. I obliged. Byers was not much of a talker when he was by himself so his attention shifted back to busywork. I picked at the rough edge of my thumb watching Byers place a metal canister on the end of the counter. He opened it then took a sample of a dark substance, added it to the boiling water, and adjusted the flame on the Bunsen burner changing the intensity. He looked up at the wall clock and turned back to his experiment. The color change in the beaker shifted to a dark brown. Byers gave it a stir and covered the top. He sensed my curiosity.

“Coffee will be ready in a few minutes if you’d like some.”

I laughed and politely declined.

“Don’t you have a percolator?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Just then Frohike and Langley entered the lab.

“Oh good. You’re here,” said Frohike as he reached for a nearby lab coat, slipped into the sleeves and flipped it up onto his shoulders.

“We had a whale of a meeting upstairs,” Langley added, shoving a worn out briefcase across the counter making an open space, “Looks like Spender’s dirty little secret is out.”

“Krycek, my informant, pegged him as a hop head. I knew Spender could be a little on edge but I thought he was too straight-laced to use heroin.” I folded my arms. “What did Skinner have to say?” 

“The boss was none too pleased to find out that one of their top boys was on the horse.” Langley stated.

“And a thoroughbred at that. He was probably dipping into Vincenti’s supply.” Frohike remarked as he adjusted his glasses.

I sighed and shook my head. Byers poured his scientific brew into a small mug for himself and took a sip before saying, “Well there’s your motive.”

His colleagues shrugged in agreement as they each grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Makes you wonder if he was just starting out and got careless,” Langley said.

“Or he had been knee deep in the shit since making a deal, overconfidence took over, he couldn’t pay up and then blammo,” I said as I stood and leaned against the lab counter. Something about this seemed too easy. We had the gunman, we had a relatively clear motive, and we had the Captain scrambling to stuff this whole matter back under the rug. I needed to track down The Titan and put the squeeze on him for some information. Though with a newly buried partner I would need a second set of eyes on my surveillance job.

“Well boys, it’s been a treat but I have to make some telephone calls.”

“Hey Mulder,” Frohike called, “you should take some time for yourself; slow down for a day maybe.”

“That’s what whiskey is for.” I replied as I left the lab and took the stairs, not knowing what I’d walk into when I hit the bullpen.

Several officers didn’t bat an eye as I passed by their desks and I continued to avoid any eye contact as I glanced at my wristwatch. I reached my desk and pulled the phone closer as I took a seat, picking up the receiver. My index finger hovered over the rotary and just as I started to pull the number I heard the distinct baritone of Captain Skinner calling my name. It wasn’t bellowed so I knew I wasn’t being called in to serve detention for misconduct. I placed both hands on my desk and stood then met him at his office door. He blocked the threshold.

“Have you heard?” he asked.

“Yes. I was just down in forensics. I came up here to get started on what I presume is a surveillance assignment.”

Skinner thought for a moment.

“I want you to get a hold of Krycek. He’s going to accompany you on this detail.”

“Oh he’ll be thrilled.”

“Go on then,” Skinner said as he tensed his jaw, “And get me some goddamn answers.”

------

Georgetown Waterfront 1:05 p.m.

  Rain tapped angrily against the roof of the unmarked cruiser as I sat parked down the block from the Piccola Italia restaurant. It was a hole in the wall but a well known haunt for some of Vincenti’s crew. I hoped Carlo Lodi would be tempted by a lunch special of pasta arrabiata and cheap wine. My deli sandwich and soda I grabbed before the cloudburst paled in comparison, but I needed something in my stomach. I took another bite and watched a series of passersby through the streaks of rain on the window. I was early. I adjusted the radio dial and finished my lunch. With a swipe of the wiper blade I noticed a black coupe pull up in front of the restaurant. The door popped open and a hulking figure exited the passenger side, adjusted his jacket, and stepped under the awning out of the rain. He waited for his driver to join him before opening the front door. Just then there was a knock on my window. Krycek had his collar pulled up and drips of water cascaded off the brim of his hat. I rolled the window down to get a better look.

“You gonna let me in?”

“I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“Damnit Mulder...”

“It’s unlocked, Krycek.” I said as I looked at the empty passenger seat then rolled up the window, catching a splash of rain. He crossed in front of the car and waited for traffic to clear before opening the door. He sighed as he removed his hat and brushed off the rainwater. 

“Alright fill me in,” Krycek said. I turned down the radio and had the last swig of soda. 

“Recognize the car down there?” I began. He leaned forward and caught a glimpse as the wiper blade swiped the windshield.

“That looks like Carlo Lodi’s coupe.”

“He’s not alone. His lunch date is a suit that’s either a driver or a business partner, if you get my meaning. They’ve been in there for maybe ten minutes so if I move I can get what I need before his main course arrives.”

“Okay then,” Krycek said as he put his hat back on. 

“I’m just going to have a nice conversation. I need to get him talking. If I get him back to the precinct I can be more heavy-handed.” I adjusted my fedora and touched my weapon for reassurance. 

“You’re not saying “we” a whole lot. What the hell did you need me for?”

“At first I had you joining me on spoiling Lodi’s lunch but then I thought he might recognize you as a mole so you get to stay put. Keep the car running. If things take a turn I want you to head to the 3rd; with or without me. Ask for Captain Skinner.”

“Aw shucks this feels just like old times,” Krycek replied as he fished out a beat-up pack of Morleys shaking a stick loose. He pulled it out with his teeth then tipped his head down as he flipped his lighter, marrying flame to paper, blessing the squad car with a halo of smoke. Car tires splashed through wet pavement and I took that as my cue to get this show on the road. I opened the door and stepped onto the curb. The rain had slacked up as I walked. I narrowly avoided an umbrella being opened by an old man exiting a taxi. He continued on like I wasn’t even there.

Piccola Italia’s brick facade with its windows dressed in red and white gingham curtains fit the stereotype, as much as I hate to admit. But none of that mattered when I stepped inside and was hit with the aroma of bread, oil, and garlic. If I didn’t have a more pressing obligation I would have claimed a table and ordered a plate. I flashed my badge to the young woman at the cashier’s counter and she quickly nodded then went back to straightening menus. I moved past dark wood tables with diners enjoying an array of pastas and soups. My instinct led me through the dining room and I happened upon a curved booth tucked in a back corner near the kitchen. Lodi was there with his driver, luckily still just the two of them. He was reading the sports page from the newspaper and folded it in half then tapped a finger against it.

“That fuckin’ horse is gonna make me a stack of green, I’m telling ya.” He boasted with a laugh.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lodi?” I asked as I approached his table. He put down the paper and took a sip from his glass of wine and gave me a quizzical look.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah I believe you can.” I carefully reached for my badge and flipped it open. “Detective Fox Mulder. I just want to chat.”

“And what makes you think I want to listen, detective?”

“I see you got the sports section there. What’s your game? Baseball, football?”

Lodi shot a look at his driver and gestured towards my direction. 

“This guy...if you must know Mr Mulder, I like the races.”

I took a seat across from him and folded my arms. Then I truly realized how much of a mountain this man was. His square jawline met a thick neck that was being held together by a stiff shirt collar and silk tie. I was waiting for it to burst open with each swallow. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest led to limbs that were solid muscle. The ring on his left pinky finger was about the size of a doorknob and had an insignia in the center. His pin-striped suit looked custom given his proportions. I got a little too comfortable and leaned forward in my chair, threading my fingers together.

“About a week ago, did you talk to a Jeffrey Spender about a horse race. Maybe come to collect a bet?” The mention of the name caught Lodi’s attention and he picked up on my code. Before he could respond, a waiter saddled up to the table and delivered a plate of pasta with a fiery red sauce. Lodi took another sip of wine.

“If I had to come collect you know there was a good reason for it,” he said as he twisted pasta on his fork then took a bite. The other man at the table started to undo his cuffs and slowly roll up his shirt sleeves.

“Well on behalf of the 3rd District precinct, I’d like to invite you over for a little heart to heart.,” I maintained a relaxed facade even though I knew what was coming, “We’ve got evidence placing you at a bar in Adams Morgan the same night as Spender.” Lodi ate another bite and closed his eyes savoring the spice. As he took his wine glass he raised his pinky finger which was the signal. I blinked and then I swear to God I saw enough stars to grace the American flag. A meaty Italian right hook slammed into my cheek like a sledgehammer. Glad he wasn’t wearing a ring. I was knocked sideways to the floor and I tried to catch the nearby table but instead let a dining chair unceremoniously break my fall. I never could take a hit. The few patrons in the restaurant barely took notice at the commotion. Carlo dabbed at the corner of his mouth and rose from his seat.

“Thank you, Theo,” he said as he moved over to pat my assailant’s shoulder. The enforcer’s goon cracked his knuckles and stood looking very pleased with himself. I moved my tongue to the inside of my cheek tasting fresh blood. I adjusted myself to sit upright, though not ready to stand just yet. I snatched a neatly folded napkin from one of the empty place settings and tried to dam the small crimson river from my mouth. Carlo crouched down next to me.

“So, you thought you could just walk into this fine establishment, disrupt my meal, and arrest me?”

“Until now it hasn’t stopped me,” I mumbled against the napkin. 

“Unless you got a warrant in hand, I’m not going anywhere. And this business with who was it...Spender? That’s done and so are you.”

“Why don’t you just bump me off like you did him?” I asked as I tossed the bloody napkin aside. Carlo thought for a moment and leaned in closer.

“I like seeing you get knocked around every once in a while, Detective Mulder.  Puts a smile on my face.” He blessed me with two exaggerated slaps on the cheek then got to his feet. “I think we’re finished here. Theo, show this son of a bitch the way out.” Carlo returned to his meal and raised a glass in my direction. I was still on my ass. I reached for my fedora and Theo took the liberty of hoisting me to my feet. The gorilla hands that left a new beauty mark gripped my upper arms and shoved me towards the kitchen.

“Easy there junior, my dance card is full.” I said as we moved through a swinging door. I was briefly distracted by the aroma of simmering marinara, stewing beef, and an array of spices.  The sous chef and line cooks unphased by the disturbance continued prepping as I was hustled towards the back door and pushed out into the alley.  I stumbled into the brick wall across the way and before I could turn around to get the final say, the goon slammed the metal door shut.  My head tilted back and I gingerly rolled it from side to side. I adjusted the brim on my hat and shuffled down the alley towards the street.

The rain had passed and I found Krycek parked where I left him. He had a fresh cigarette in his lips and was reclined against the car seat.  I tapped on the window and he unrolled it letting the rhythm of Count Bassie and his orchestra glide onto the sidewalk. 

“Looks like negotiations went well,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yeah you could say that,” I replied. My cheek felt like someone was inflating a balloon under the surface. I needed a drink. A wisp of smoke swirled out of the window and Krycek flicked the butt into a puddle. 

“Take the car back to the precinct.”

“What?”

“You can leave it running with the doors open if you want.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Take some advice I was given earlier today and get some rest. This case isn’t going cold anytime soon.” I watched as Krycek shifted gears and pulled away from the curb. There was a pang of mistrust thinking that the unmarked squad car would end up somewhere along the Potomac; but I also got the suspicion that Alex liked playing detective. Also long as I kept him on a short leash I could use him to my advantage. I crossed the street and walked the block until I found a phone booth. Before I slid open the door I had to spit out the stale blood that was collecting in my mouth. My cheek burned like fire. I picked up the receiver and dialed the operator.

“Yes I’m looking for a Dana Scully. Georgetown address.”

[uniqueleewritten]

B is for Battlefield

This one is a bit longer (a little bit late but shh) but it’s a fun one! Hope you give it a read through!

Don’t forget you can donate to my Ko-fi to get early access and help support a Black Nonbinary Queer in these trying times

Ko-fi 

The other stories

Story Under the Read more

"Hey, Ellie?" Lil called out as they were walking into their kitchen.

"Hi, Lil, what's up?" Ellie asked as she put another bowl into the dishwasher.

"Wondering if I can help you."

Ellie looked out at the others sitting around Lil's living room table, yelling at the board game.

"Had enough of that?" She asked pointing to the chaos.

Lil didn't even bother nodding, they just continued to stare at Ellie who eventually smiled in return.

"Well, you can help me decorate because that's the last thing to do at this point."

"I'm not good at cake decorating."

"You don't need to be with the yule log actually. Wash your hands real quick and then you can help."

Lil quickly did as they were told and then stood next to Ellie, grateful to be in the room with the person closest to them in height. They for once didn't have to look up when she was talking.

"Ok, so the cake and the ganache are both cool enough to work with now, so you just need to slap it on top and then use this offset spatula to spread it around, ok."

Lil took the spatula, once again amazed that such a thing existed, and then did as Ellie said. Ellie smiled at them before going to the refrigerator and grabbing the tupperware bowl of meringue mushrooms she had made earlier in the day. She set it down on the island next to Lil before grabbing the small bowl she used for melting chocolate.

The melted mixed chocolate would be amazing with the decadence of the meringue. The milk chocolate would add a touch of sweetness to compliment the high percentage dark chocolate pieces, keeping it all from being overly sweet. Something everyone but Lil would notice.

"What are these?" Lil asked holding a white meringue cap in their fingers.

"Meringue mushroom. Or they will be once I put them together anyway."

"Both?"

"Yep, I made normal meringue and chocolate meringue for it. I like the look of both together, makes them look more like mushroom clusters to me."

Lil didn't say anything and instead just stood, waiting for Ellie to give them more instruction. She handed a fork over before pulling her melted chocolate from the microwave and sitting across from Lil at the island.

"Ok, now you just take the fork and make a bunch of lines thru the frosting. Then we have bark on the log."

Lil made an affirmative noise before doing as they were told. Ellie quickly worked thru the meringue mushrooms, attaching the stems to caps with a bit of the chocolate and setting them aside. Soon the two were done and then they went about adding the mushrooms to various spots on the log.

"This looks good," Lil said when they were done.

"It does. Now we just add a few cherries and raspberries and then a bit of powdered sugar on top and it's finished. It will probably need to cool in the fridge for a bit before-"

"FUCK YOUR MONOPOLY!"

Ellie and Lil turned to look at Melvin beginning his tirade, Maya sitting there looking smug. Why anyone went with her idea to play Bankrupt or Billionaire, no one knew but Melvin sure was suffering from the sounds of it.

"Well, let's finish decorating before Maya's fat head knocks your condo down 3 floors."

"I hear the ground floor units have cheaper rent anyway." Lil joked in response.

Ellie snickered at the remark before starting to pour some powdered sugar into the sugar shaker. Lil grabbed the container of bright red fruit from the fridge and handed it over. Working together they easily decorated the cake, Lil placed cherries underneath some of the mushroom clusters while Ellie had placed a few raspberries along the bottom.

Ellie then showed Lil how to put the powdered sugar on top with a shaker. They told her that their parents had always used the mesh strainer to do this part and was a little amazed at the shaker. Lil was constantly surprised at the gadgets that existed to help around the kitchen.

Altogether the yule log looked amazing and Lil salivated at the thought of getting a slice.

"NO FUCKING WAY!"

"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET, YOU FUCKING WHORE!"

"Say it again you little bitch! I'll knock you so hard you might get smart."

"You wanna go?"

"KNOCK! It off you two!" Sheb yelled and then lowered her voice. Most likely trying to get their attention without causing any more noise, for all the good it did her.

Ellie shook her head before turning back to Lil who was doing much the same. They shared a laugh before putting the cake in the freezer to chill for a while.

"Now we do the cleanup and by the time we're done it should be set."

"Cool."

The two listened to the incessant yelling of the others, Melvin and Maya ranting at each other, Sheb yelling at them to calm down and Delphon yelling at Melvin for trying to jump over the table. The normal sounds of family board game night when Maya was allowed to pick the game.

If the games didn't end with Lil winning with skill, or Delphon winning out of luck, then Maya won out of a slow and agonizing torture spree that drove the others to dramatic deaths.

It didn't take long for Lil and Ellie to clean up everything as they worked together. Ellie rinsed the bowls out, giving the melted chocolate one a quick scrub, before stacking them into the dishwasher. While Lil cleaned off the island and wiped the countertops down before getting out the plates and silverware.

"Game up!" Lil called, from the safety of the kitchen still. They hoped the others would at least put the board game away. Maybe they would all have to eat their cake around the pieces and possibly bloodshed if Melvin got out of Delphon's grip.

Ellie set the knife on the counter and told Lil to come back in for it after they set the plates down. She would bring in the cake after she took pictures of it for her social media. She quickly snapped a few, listening to Lil kick the game off the table so they could put the plates down, before grabbing the tray. Lil passed her as they came back into the kitchen, careful not to bump into the tray she was holding.

Sheb was in the games cabinet, most likely putting the game up while Delphon was sitting on the couch, looking far more exhausted than Ellie had ever seen before. Maya and Melvin were standing, arguing about who the real winner was in light of the game ending early.

"I was the winner, you wannabe punk, get over it," Maya said, giving him a push.

Melvin gave a push back, not seeing Delphon's legs were right behind Maya and Ellie knew what would happen before she could stop it. She twisted somewhat, hoping the cake would survive but as Maya fell back on top of her, Delphon reaching out to catch her and Melvin staring in shock, she knew the yule log was done for.

The two hit the floor with a thud and the cake hit the carpet with a splat.

"Oh my god, are you two ok?" Melvin asked as Delphon moved to pull Maya up.

"Yeah, I'm ok." She told them, letting Delphon manhandle her over to the sofa. "Ellie, you ok?"

When Ellie didn't answer Delphon quickly knelt down and looked to see if she was ok, constantly calling her name. Ellie laid there on Lil's plush carpet just staring at the remains of her hard work. The last 4 and a half hours of her life sat in a mess all along the carpet.

"Oh shit," Melvin said when he noticed.

"Come on Ellie, let's get you up," Delphon said, all but picking her up like a parent does a sleeping child, before setting her down on the couch near Maya.

"Well, that's bad," Sheb said, a bit of worry in her voice.

"You're telling me," Melvin grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "I hate cleaning Lil's carpet."

"I meant Lil, actually," Sheb whispered fearfully.

Everyone but Ellie turned to look at the kitchen's archway and saw Lil standing there, the large cake knife in their hand.

"Oh fuck."

"Lillen, let's put the knife back down," Del said, slowly approaching them. Hoping to convince them with his words or stop them from using it in the worst-case scenario.

Maya stood and walked behind him, trying to apologize while also using Del as a shield between her and Lil. She told them that she would go out right now and buy whatever dessert Lil wanted, as an apology and a replacement. Hearing those words made Ellie see red.

How dare Maya think she could just replace 4 hours of work! How dare she think any other dessert would be comparable to her fantastic if not damn near perfect brandy yule log! How dare she think she could just replace the fucking meringue mushrooms!

Before she could stop herself, Ellie grabbed one of the large and decorative throw pillows and hit Maya in the head as hard as she could, sending the other woman falling to the couch with a shout. Before Maya could say anything Ellie was beating her with the pillow, repeatedly hitting her and hitting her and hitting her. Maya all the while yelling at her to stop.

"That fucking hurts!"

"Well, it should! I spent 4 hours on that cake Maya Thornridge! 4 hours!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I used good brandy in that cake damnit! And now it's sitting on the fucking floor!"

Ellie ignored Maya's pleas and instead heard Melvin chuckling behind her. She swiftly swung around and hit him in the face as well, sending him tumbling back into a chair with a thud and an oof. He quickly raised his arms to protect himself from her onslaught of pillow pummeling, not even bothering to try and apologize.

"Don't you dare fucking laugh at her Melvin Craig! You're the one who pushed her! I don't care if she pushed you first! You pushed her on top of me and we lost 4 hours of fucking work and the good brandy I put in there and the good chocolate I used for the ganache and I bought real actual cherries to go on top and you! pushed! her!"

She punctuated her last words with particularly hard swings before running out of steam. Her arms hung low as she panted, her chest and shoulders heaving with each breath she took before she simply let the pillow go. It dropped atop the plates and silverware forgotten on the table, making a loud clacking noise as they bumped each other around. Ellie fell back onto the couch, the fight completely out of her.

Everyone looked at her in silence, amazed that so much anger had come from her when before they had barely heard her yell at someone, let alone pummel them with a pillow.

Lil looked at the knife in their hand before shrugging and turning around. "Guess we don't need this anymore."

[sigritandtheelves]

Hour of Lead - Part Two

(Part 1)

2.6k wds | angst | s8: Alone

A/N: This took a little longer than expected. The angst is lightening somewhat, and there will still be one more part at least (two more at the most). This story hasn’t done super well, but I’m kind of invested in working out this emotional arc the way it appeared in canon, so I hope a few folks will enjoy it, at least.

_+_

On the wall is a diagram showing the stages of cervical dilation. On the cabinet across from it, the one that holds bandages and tongue depressants and gauze, is another depicting the progress of fundal height by week. The sketched woman’s body is transparent. She is a hollow outline, backgrounded in favor of the brightly-colored ovals representing her womb. Scully tries to focus on her doctor.

“I’m worried, Dana.” The other woman’s fingers brush her elbow. “Not about the baby. The measurements are good and he’s active... but you haven’t gained much weight, which means you’re giving everything to hm. You need to take care of yourself.”

Scully nods, half-distracted. “I know.”

“What kind of support system do you have?” There’s a brief pause in which the doctor carefully avoids mentioning the child’s father. “Your mom, maybe?”

Another nod. “Yeah. Yes. I can talk to my mom. She’s not far.”

“Could she come stay with you? Help you get ready?”

“I...” She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

The other woman’s eyes are blue and concerned. She touches Scully’s shoulder this time, and it is strange to feel such kindness in the gesture, to feel any touch at all. She thinks of the last time Mulder touched her—just a tentative tap of his finger on her knee, like she were made of glass or fire that might cut or burn him. She is a ticking time bomb of danger and responsibility, a capsule ready to burst under the tongue of an imperiled spy.

“Well, you need to stop working at least,” the doctor says. “You’re two centimeters dilated and that baby is fully in position. You can’t be comfortable.”

At that, Scully almost smiles. “Feels like I’m sitting on his head most of the time.”

“You basically are, Dana. It could be any time now, so I need you to keep off your feet. Stop wearing heels, don’t do any autopsies, get some rest. And more food.” She leans down, holds eye contact for a moment. “Please. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. You’re on maternity leave, effective immediately.”

So Scully slips back into her heels, which she’ll have to give up, and back into her car, which she’ll have to stop driving, and takes herself home to her quiet apartment, feeling just a little bit like a scolded child, but also like she’d give anything to be held and taken care of until this baby comes—a break from holding everything together. Instead she gets out her tool box and drags the scattered pieces of the crib into the nursery.

It’s an hour before she’s almost in tears, trying to hold the two sides she’s assembled together so she can put the screws in place. Her arms aren’t long enough. Her belly is in the way. She tries three more times before she lets them clatter to the floor and slumps back against the wall.

Melvin Frohike finds her that way not long after. He pokes his head through the nursery door. “You rang?”

She tries to smile. Never in her life did she think she’d give this man a key to her apartment, but he’d been a surprising comfort in the months Mulder was missing. And dead. He’d brought her small tubs of ice cream and extra tissues, flowers, a pack of baby socks, pictures of Mulder to put in her scrapbook. He’d called her, drunk and sad, at least twice, and both times she’d found herself sniffling with him.

“Thanks for coming,” she says.

“Never let it be said I’m not handy. Where’s this go?” He lifts one of the crib sides and angles it near the other.

Scully hoists herself up, aligns the two pieces, and pulls a small Allen wrench from her pocket. “If you could just hold these, I can get this bolt in place.”

It’s quiet a moment while she works, setting the pieces then tightening the bolts. She doesn’t make eye contact, but she can feel him watching her.

“Okay, now this other side.”

Frohike lifts the large side piece she’s already assembled, holding it by its smooth wooden bars. “Scully,” he says.

“Hmm.”

“You’re here alone.”

Twist, twist, tighten. “I live alone.”

“You’re getting close to your due date, right? Shouldn’t someone be with you?”

She shrugs. “The doctor said someone should stay with me, but...” She leans her weight against the wrench, making sure the bolt is as tight as possible. “I can call my mom if I need to.”

She feels his eyes again and waits for it. She knows it’s coming. “Look, Scully, I know it’s none of my business. But where the hell is Mulder?”

She chuffs out a small laugh, but it’s dry, like ripping apart a fallen leaf. That was the question of the year, she supposed.  Where was Mulder. “I don’t know,” she says. “At his apartment?”

“But you called me.”

“Yeah.” With three sides assembled, she drops in the slatted bottom and moves to collect the fourth side from its place against the wall. But as she stands, she finds her head swimming for a moment and her vision blurring.

“Hey, take it easy,” Frohike says. “You okay?”

She steadies herself. Nods.

“Sit. I’ll do the last side.”

She watches him for a moment, this little man who loves Mulder almost as much as she does. She passes him the Allen wrench on her way to the rocking chair in the corner. “Thanks.”

He makes quick work of the final piece. There is nothing to do now but lower the mattress into place. Frohike wiggles the corners, checking their sturdiness. “Solid,” he says, and then there is a quiet moment between them while she tries to come up with something to say.

“I don’t think Mulder… He’s still healing, I think. He needs time to adjust,” she says.

“He tell you that?”

She frowns. “When he first came back, he seemed so lost. He said he was having trouble processing everything, but I think he was angry.”

Frohike grunts.

She filters the details carefully. She doesn’t want a pity party. “He’s been doing better since, though. He brought a gift. He came over for pizza.”

“Friendly,” he says. She can se that something’s gnawing at him. He fidgets. He picks up the crib mattress from where it leans against the far wall. Then he says, “Bullshit,” and lowers it into the assembled frame.

The word hovers, sharp, in the air. He’s crossed his arms over his chest. Scully raises her eyebrow in question.

“Are you telling me that bastard got to come back from the grave and still chose to be a deadbeat dad?”

If his face were any hotter, his glasses might fog up, she thinks. She lets the words sink in. Is that what Mulder is? Too enamored of the world to be tied down by domesticity, he’d rather seek the truth alone? Scully rocks in the chair and looks toward the window. “No, it’s not like that.”

“It’s not?”

“He thought he was dying, and now he’s not. I don’t think he ever would have chosen me over his work, if…” She sighs. “I don’t think he’s ever wanted a child. And this,” she tilts her chin toward her middle, “has made me seem different to him, selfish, maybe, because I can’t do the same kind of work I did before. It… it’s not his fault. I can’t force him to want us.”

The room falls silent as Frohike considers this. She watches him clench his fist once, twice, and then he’s shaking his head. “That sonofabitch.”

—

It’s getting late and she’s drifting toward a dream, head slumped on a couch cushion. There’s a child in the dream that she can almost see, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. A baby, fat and smiling and reaching for her nose. She knows its face, has held it in her mind it a thousand times in sleep. The child moves, and suddenly it is a boy: mischief in those same eyes that turns, without warning, to sorrow. She knows those heavy lids, too, but in her waking life. They plead, contrite. I know you, she thinks.

And then the phone is ringing and she pulls her own eyes open to reveal her empty living room. It’s only her in the apartment, and the digital ring of her cordless phone, which sits just far enough away that she must strain over her own bulk to reach it.

“Hello?”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

It’s him. Of course it’s him. “Mulder?”

“I said I’d help you put it together.”

The crib. Frohike had been angry when he left, and she had no doubt he’d had words with Fox Mulder. “You didn’t need to. It’s okay.”

“Damnit, Scully, I want to help.”

“Why?”

“Because… I care about you.”

Little knives, little knives. “We’re fine, Mulder.”

There’s a sound that’s something like a laugh on the other end of the line. “I’m sure you are, but I’m worried,” he said. “Please. What can I do to help?”

Everyone so worried all the time, but what has she ever shown them but strength? She can do this alone. He doesn’t owe her anything. She wants to tell Mulder that if he wants to be useful, he could love her again. He could acknowledge his child, could remember that he told her he wanted this once.

“I have this class,” she says instead. “It’s a birthing class, and I should have done it weeks ago, but…” but you were dead and then alive again and I felt too alone to imagine being a mother. “I’m supposed to come with a partner, but my mom is busy.”

“When is it?

“Tomorrow? My doctor told me to stop working, so I’m … I’m going to get my things from the office in the morning.”

“Because your due date is…”

“The seventeenth.”

There’s a moment, a pause. “That’s this week.”

“Yeah.”

She wonders if he’s doing the math, if he’s counting the months and weeks and trying to piece together memories. Part of her wants to be angry that he hasn’t asked her due date before now, when he’s been home for weeks. Does he realize how those dates line up, she wonders? In August he’d made wishes to a genie and then taken her to see his family’s summer house where they’d loved each other from the attic to the dunes, until their muscles were rubber and their bones were tired.

Funny, she thinks, that he hadn’t wished away his disease. The thought stirs some curiosity in her, some small doubt that she files away for later.

“You shouldn’t be alone, Scully.”

She wants to laugh. She rests her head on her palm, elbow against her rounded belly. “Probably not.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

Something catches in her throat, and she must swallow it before she can talk. “Mulder, don’t offer me things I can’t really have. Don’t do that.”

She hears fabric against fabric on his end of the line as he shifts, and then the silence stretches for a moment. “What time tomorrow?”

She is balancing her heartache and her hope. She is slowly constructing the armor that will let her face him in a matter of hours. “Could you come at ten?”

“Okay,” he says.

Before she can say anything else, he hangs up.

—

He’s never watched Oprah in his life, of this she’s certain, which means he’s been reading baby books. The thought makes her feel like she’s swallowed hot rocks. She pictures him standing in a bookstore, looking confused, thinking about her and picking through books on pregnancy and birth. It is a dangerous thought that fuels a dangerous hope, so she locks the image away.

Scully is concerned about Agent Doggett: she doesn’t like the idea of him alone out there. But her anxiety about leaving work is fueled more by the sense that she’s just done exactly what Mulder has expected of her all along—that she’s quit, that she’s finally given up on the work. He tells her she’s paid her dues to the X-Files, and she wonders if he’s always thought of her relationship to the work as transactional. How much was her abduction worth? Her cancer? A gunshot wound to the gut? Infertility treatments?

Today he is all smiles and lighthearted references to the baby. At the birthing class, he seems neither surprised nor disgusted by anything the nurse says: more points in favor of her Mulder-has-purchased-baby-books theory. The nurse uses language like “dads and partners,” and Scully wonders which, if either, he is now. He helps her kneel on the pillow so she can stretch out on all fours. He presses her hips, as instructed, and it’s the most intimacy she’s felt from him since the night he left for Oregon. Her face flushes involuntarily and her heart quickens. When he helps her to stand, he holds her arms, then brushes his fingers against her middle.

“Okay?” He asks, but she’s not sure she can breathe to answer.

The baby answers instead, moving against his fingers, disturbed by the commotion and probably her rapid heartbeat. Mulder looks startled. She touches his hand before he can pull it away and holds it against the tiny limb that presses outward. The expression on his face is worth the slamming of her heart in her chest and the terror that he will withdraw.

“What is that?” He asks, ignoring the nurse who has asked them to move into a new position.

“A knee, I think.”

Mulder shakes his head: here is the wonder she’d looked for in those first days, turning his lips up and his eyes to hers. She smiles at him—they are smiling at each other in a moment she didn’t think possible.

“Dana? You okay?” The nurse checks in and the moment breaks. He pulls his hand away and looks at the floor.

“Fine,” she says, rubbing her abdomen. “Just some acrobatics.” And she moves to sit as the others are doing, stretching her legs, shifting her hips and thinking about the baby moving down down and out into the world.

After, he buys her lunch from a sandwich shop and watches to make sure she eats. “I want to know what it’s been like for you,” he says. “Were you sick in the beginning?”

She stops chewing, and the food feels heavy in her mouth. When she manages to swallow, she says, “Yeah, some. I was tired and dizzy… remember Oregon?”

“That was... because you were pregnant.” She watches him realize what she had figured out months ago. Suddenly he seems less hungry.

“It got worse after that, and then right when it started to get better… well, everything was worse. If I’m being honest, I don’t even remember the middle very well.”

“But you made a scrapbook.”

She looks at him. “Yeah. I did.”

He nods and takes a sip of his soda. “I don’t want you to be alone anymore. I’ll drop you off, and then I’m going to pack some things and come back. I’ll sleep on the couch if you want, but I won’t let you be alone.”

Scully’s stares at her sandwich, face growing hot, hope and fear of disappointment at war. He is being overprotective, maybe. He’s worried about her. He’ll stay until the baby comes, sure, help them get settled, and then head back to his apartment with his fish and his singular quest. Even if that’s true, can she say no to his company? Could she ever reject the near proximity of Fox Mulder?

“Okay,” she says.

Quiet falls between them as they whittle small bites away from their turkey clubs, eyes carefully not meeting. It’s long minutes, a humming tension, before he breaks it:

“I still love you, you know,” he says.

Scully stops breathing, until her lungs hurt and she remembers to inhale. She doesn’t answer, she can’t, but her eyes sting and she manages a small nod.

—

(end part two)

Go to Part Three

[parspicle]

Melvin’s a dumbass, part 389437

Lord Firion and modvmv can be found over at @vampire-mythoverse !! Melvin’s a reincarnation of one of my own boyes wheep whoop 

“Fluffy?” Melvin shouted, a few times, the second syllable getting longer as he went on, calling for his precious pet. “Where are you, my little kitten?” He sighed, putting his hands on his hips and glancing around again. Hopefully Lumvani’s having better luck.

By “better luck”, He thought, drifting off for a moment, I mean… finding my cat. Damnit, Fluffy, you can’t just run off…

Melvin, lost in his thoughts, let the toes of his boots go just under the ledge of a slightly-raised platform. He tripped, falling onto his face. He grunted when he hit the floor, groaning and laying there for a few moments more.

He stayed there, contemplating his life, and trying not to cry about losing his cat.

“What are you doing?”

Melvin knocked himself out of his own mind, then looked up. A tall, admittedly kinda pretty man stared down, slightly disappointed almost, at him.

Woa.

In the man’s arms was a wrinkly, white cat. It was curled up, purring softly while it was pet. After a moment, Melvin realized it was a hairless cat. His hairless cat. His eyes got wide and he jumped up, flapping his arms. “My cat!! You found my cat!!”

The man continued to pet Melvin’s cat. He seemed unimpressed, like this scrawny, messy-haired vampire was encroaching on his life, even though the man was the one with the lost cat in his arms.

Melvin seemed unbothered by the huge, leathery wings on the man’s back, assuming he was just another hybrid. He saw plenty of those growing up, it didn’t really matter to him.

“C…can I have him back?”

The air around the man turned a couple degrees colder. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh! Sorry, right- I was looking for my cat! But- you found him! If you give him back, I’ll be off, and, y’know, go back home!” Melvin started to sweat.

The man made no attempts to let go of the cat, or give him back. He narrows his eyes. Who did this vampire think he was? Who did this vampire think he was? Did he not know his own species’ leader?

Melvin, realizing that asking over and over wasn’t working, tried to make small talk. “So, uh, what type of demon hybrid are you?”

The vampire lord froze. He stopped petting the cat. What did this common just say?

“What sin type, too? I, uh, can’t tell…” 

The vampire lord stared at him, silent.

Melvin shifted, uncomfortable, on his feet. Small talk clearly wasn’t working. He continued to try anyway. “So, uh, what do you do for a job?” He asked, instead of, I dunno, the man’s name.

“I look after idiot vampires, such as yourself.”

Ouch, that sorta stung. Melvin flinched back. “I… idiot vampires? What gives you the right to-“ 

“Vampires like you need to learn to respect your lords.”

“L… lord…?”

The vampire lord’s wings spead, making Melvin feel even smaller than he felt. The cat did not leave his arms. “I am Lord Firion. I expect to be respected by all vampires, and people of lesser status.” 

 Melvin’s eyes drifted down to the cat. “I… I just want my cat back, sir, I… I didn’t… I’m sorry, I’m…” Melvin felt tears well up in his eyes. No, no, he couldn’t cry now! Please, please don’t cry in front of the vampire lord. Oh, gods, that would be so embarrassing. This was embarrassing. Melvin wiped at his face.

Oh, Ahedres, how do you deal with people crying? Lord Firion panicked, slightly. 

Melvin’s cat was shoved into his arms. In a blink, the lord was gone. His cat was purring softly.

Melvin felt lost in the cold, empty street. He glances around, not completely sure of what had just occurred.

[dresupi]

Silly Love Songs - Darcy/Spencer

Pairing:  Darcy Lewis/Spencer Reid For: @daughter-of-ophelia Song: Silly Love Songs by Wings (1976) Word Count: 912

Darcy plopped her legs down in his lap, jarring him from his thoughts. Spencer felt the corner of his mouth quirk upwards as he automatically reached for her feet.

They'd done this probably a hundred times before, and he wasn't even waxing hyperbolic in the slightest.

It felt like Darcy had always been a presence in his life. Back in elementary school, when she'd stomped on Christopher Melvin's toes for pushing him into the wall outside the gym.

She'd kept in touch when he'd been moved up many grades ahead of her. When he'd attended college. When she'd attended college.

"Best friends since preschool," she'd often bragged, ruffling his hair and grinning.

And he'd agreed with her. Best friends. The closest and most open he'd ever been with another human being. That was normal. This was normal.

Except when it became… something more than that.

When he'd started thinking about her all the time.

Not that he didn't think about Darcy almost daily anyway. It was like an impulse. Like breathing. Like brushing his teeth. He'd think about Darcy, wonder what she was doing, if she was having fun, or bored at work, or on some kind of adventure… and then he'd worry about that. If the adventure was too adventurous.

But this wasn't like that. One of these things was not like the other… this was being unable to stop thinking about her. In the past, thoughts of Darcy had been fleeting. Short. Brief.

Now they were anything but.

Culminating in his decision to discuss these… decidedly new feelings with her on her monthly visit. She lived in Manhattan and he lived in DC, so once a month was usually all either of them could muster. And here he was, about to ruin her visit.

He swallowed thickly, his thumbs rubbing soft circles in the bottoms of her feet.

She hummed and let her head fall back on the throw pillows. "Thank you… feels good, Spencer."

His eyes fluttered closed, the possibility of another meaning to those words was enough to make his breath stutter, make his heart beat impossibly faster, thundering so loudly that he was surprised she couldn't hear it, no matter how improbable.

I'm a terrible friend, he thought to himself, his thumbs stilling.

"What?" Darcy asked, she shifted in her seat.

"What?" he repeated dumbly, her feet falling from his hands.

"Why are you a terrible friend?" she asked. "You're not a terrible friend, but why would you say that?"

So he hadn't thought it, he'd said it aloud. Damnit.

He swallowed thickly. "I'm… I don't… Darcy…" He gingerly pushed her feet off his lap, dying under her confused expression as she bent her knees and tucked them up under her body.

"You're not a terrible friend, Spencer. I mean, I know something's bothering you… you've been off for a few weeks now… is it something with work? I know you don't like discussing them with me, but I can listen if you need--"

"What I need…" he said, trailing off. "What I need is some fresh air." He rose abruptly, walking with purpose towards his balcony door and pushing it open, the cool air hitting his face as he stepped out onto the smooth concrete.

He rarely went out here. He didn't have patio furniture or potted plants. Just a pile of cigarette butts where his upstairs neighbor had dumped their ashtray.

Sucking the cool air into his lungs, he waited for his mind to clear, but it didn't happen.

"Spencer?" her voice was quiet. Soft. "Spencer, you're not using again, are you?"

"No," he insisted. "No, it's not that."

"Then…" she trailed off. "What is it?"

"I love you," he blurted, his gaze centered somewhere on the railing in front of him.

"I love you too," she said automatically, too automatically for her to have really grasped what he was telling her.

"No… Darcy…" He turned to face her, reaching for her hands. "I love you. I love everything about you. I love your laugh, and the way your nose crinkles when you smell burnt toast, and the way you say my name, and the way your hair frizzes up in the rain… I love you when you're crying during sappy movies, I love you when you're angry, when you're cursing at bad drivers, when you get frustrated with me for not knowing how to use my smartphone…"

"Oh…" she said softly, wrapping her arms around herself. "You mean… you mean you love love me."

"Yes," he murmured. "I love love you."

She was quiet for what felt like an eternity, but Spencer knew it wasn't more than twenty seconds. He was counting.

"How does that make you a bad friend?"

He exhaled sharply. "Because. You're… visiting me and expecting everything to be the same and you didn't ask for my feelings or any of this and--"

Spencer stopped talking when she took a step towards him, her arm extending as she reached for him, pressing two fingers over his lips, lingering there to trace the outline of them before slipping her hand behind his head and tugging him down.

Sensation exploded in his belly, swooping and heating his blood as he struggled to tilt his head, to respond to the kiss.

Darcy broke it off with a harsh sigh. "Might not have asked for your feelings, but I am so glad they're here, Spencer…"

He didn't speak, just ducked down to kiss her again.

[pastourprimesports-blog]

NFL Divisional Round Preview: By: Teej

It is a sad time of the year, but also the best time of the year! It is true its NFL playoff season, however that also means we are close to the end of the NFL season, only 11 total games left.

Quick recap from the wild card weekend, ready go. Eagles got a couple fingers on a last second field goal, Chargers forced a sack fumble to advance (Thank god), Colts dominated the Texans, and the Cowboys ran past the Seahawks. Now on to this week, where teams are playing to advance to the AFC & NFC championship games.  All 4 match-ups are projected to be great games; all 8 teams are coming in hot into the playoffs.

AFC Match Ups

Colts at Chiefs (Saturday 4:35 pm)

The Indianapolis Colts come in at 10-6 after the regular season and starting 1-5. They are the first team to ever make the playoffs with a starting record of 1-5. The Colts are hot on both sides of the ball, defensively they have Darius Leonard who many think should without a doubt be Defensive Rookie of the year, he did after all make the All Pro Team (but not the Pro Bowl, not sure how that happens) The Colts also have a brick wall at the offensive line led by their 2018 1st round pick Quenton Nelson; or as he recently stated in an interview on “The Pat McAfee Show 2.0” you may also call him “Mean Son-of-a-Bitch”. Though they are young on both sides of the ball, they are complete on both sides of the ball. They have veteran leadership as well, Andrew Luck is fully back, as well a veteran presence in special teams with Adam Vinatieri.  

The Kansa City Chiefs have been red hot all season, mainly due to this seasons soon to be MVP Patrick Mahomes II. Mahomes and the Chiefs finished the season 12-4 even with the 27th ranked defense; to be honest their defense is terrible, no two ways about it. The Chiefs did get their former all pro safety Eric Berry for only 2 games this season and is questionable for Sunday. The Chiefs need all the help they can get on that side of the ball. O and if you haven’t heard the Chiefs simply don’t win home playoff games, they have not won a home playoff game since Joe Montana did back in 1994. This is why I am taking the Colts in this game both to cover the spread (-5.5) as well as to win the game straight up.  

Chargers at Patriots (Sunday 1:05 pm)

The LA Chargers come in to this game off a win against the Ravens where they stacked the box and shut down the high school offense of the Baltimore Ravens. They almost let it slip through their hands in the 4th quarter, but were able to stop the Ravens final drive with a forced fumble. The Chargers may be the deepest team left in the playoffs. They have young super stars on both sides of the ball as well has veterans, the Charges led the league with 7 pro bowlers, led by their captain and leader Philip Rivers who is trying to earn his first trip to the Super bowl and earn a ring like his two 2004 1st round counter parts . The Chargers are expected to have Melvin Gordon back for this game though he may not be 100% he is still a game changer, as well as are the Chargers wide receivers which just may be the deepest in the league, especially now that they are getting their promising young star tight end Hunter Henry back this Sunday.  Their defense also is full of Talent from their D-line all the way back to their secondary. With stars at Defensive end (Joey Bosa), linebacker (Melvin Ingram), and Safety (Derwin James), these three super stars are the reason I am taking the Chargers on Sunday (-4).  

As a lifelong Pittsburgh Steelers fan its very rare for me to ever cheer for the New England Patriots, for obvious reason (Jesse caught it). Today is no different, I will not be rooting for the Patriots this weekend, nor do I think they have enough on either side of the ball to win. The one thing that the Patriots do have on their side is home field advantage (again) and the best coach and quarterback of all time. With these two people one the Patriots sideline you can never fully count out the Patriots. With that being said I don’t see how the Patriots have a chance to advance past this round. The destiny that I have come to hate may finally come to an end. Brady is not getting any younger, nor is Rob Gronkowski who has been dominate for so long but this year he has often looked very slow and beaten down. With Gronk looking slow, the Patriots having recently cut Josh Gordon (he got high again) and not much defensive depth, they are having to rely on Julian Edelman and Chris Hogan as well as pass catchers out of the back field (James White, Rex Burkhead).  While they have a stud rookie running back in Sony Michael, I truly don’t think that is enough.  However you can never count out Tom and Bill (God damnit just retire)

Cowboys at Rams (Saturday 8:15 pm)

Dallas comes in off a big win versus the Seattle Seahawks last week, where the offense ran through two weapons. Those weapons are Amari Cooper, and the NFL rushing leader Ezekiel Elliott, both offensive weapons went over 100+ scrimmage yards. I see that trend to continue for one of these young starts this week.  I would fully expect Elliott to have 100+ scrimmage yards against the Rams; this offense goes through him this is no secret. Simply this game will come down to the Dallas Cowboys run game and the Rams front 7.  

The LA Rams come in off their bye week they earn witha record of 13-3 where they were red hot all through the season, every football fan will remember their record breaking Monday night game versus the Chiefs with the final of 54-51 in favor of the Rams.  The Rams are stacked on both sides of the ball, with their defense being led by Defensive player of the Year Aaron Donald.  Some names fans may recognize on the defense besides Donald are Suh, Donte Fowler, Joyner, Peters, Shields, and Aqib Talib, unfortunately  these names have not produced . In fact their defense has been by far their weakest link. Their offense is high powered but, Goff can be thrown off his game with just a little bit of pressure; they have arguably the best offensive weapon in Todd Gurley, as well as weapons at wide receiver in Brandin Cooks, and Robert Woods. The Rams surely miss their young star slot receiver Cooper Kupp however, who has been out since 10 with a torn ACL. With all that being said I do not see the Cowboys being able to keep up with the high powered Rams offense. Take the Rams to win but I would not take the Rams +7.

Eagles at Saints (Sunday 4:40 pm)

Philadelphia’s savior Big dick Nick is back into the playoffs again, they got past the Bears and now onto the New Orleans Saints. Well for all the Eagle fans I am sad to say Nick Foles magic will run out in the “Big Easy”. Though the offense has played better with Nick Foles under center, with the line blocking longer and giving Foles more time to launch deep balls to Jeffrey, as well as the reemergence of Darren Sproles. The Eagles defensive has been plague with injuries this season. No place has been hit harder by injuries than their defensive backs, they have gone through cornerbacks faster than I go through 2 ply after a night of beer and Taco Bell. Expect their Cornerbacks and Safeties to get bullied by Drew Bress and Michael Thomas.

“WHO DAT, WHO DAT SAY THEY GONNA BEAT THEM SAINTS” well I got some news it will not be the Eagles. The Saints come in off a bye and this gave the Saints much needed time to rest up and get healthy. The Saints were rolling early and throughout the season but their offense seemed to take a step back late. I fully expect the Saints to be healthy, prepared and ready to roll against the Eagles. The Saints have two great running backs in Ingram and Kamara, as well a young stud at wide out Michael Thomas, the Saints are also getting Tedd Ginn back this week which could open the Saints offense even more than it already was. The Saints defense turn around their season midway this year and we are seeing what we expected from them based off last year’s stats. Between the Saints weapons on offense and the Saints defense turning their season around expect them to cover (+8).

Hope you’ll sit back and enjoy the games both Saturday and Sunday, enjoy a couple of brews while watching. Here is to the Patriots being out this round!

[comicstoastonish]

Howard the Duck #3 (2015)

Writer: Chip Zdarsky

Artist: Joe Quinones

Damnit Melvin!!!!

[dib-thing-wannabe]

I SIGN AS WELL!! YOU SHALL BE OUR SON MELVIN!

"WAIT WHAT-"

"I DON'T KNOW!! THEY ALL JUST KEEP ON TALKING ABOUT ADOPTING ME AND I DON'T KNOW WHY-"

"OH GOD DAMNIT NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN-"

[kidsviral-blog]

Kansas City Chief Jovan Belcher reportedly shot girlfriend, committed suicide

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/kansas-city-chief-jovan-belcher-reportedly-shot-girlfriend-committed-suicide/

Kansas City Chief Jovan Belcher reportedly shot girlfriend, committed suicide

http://twitter.com/#!/A_Mc47/status/274902251766702080

A player for the Kansas City Chiefs reportedly shot and killed his girlfriend then committed suicide earlier this morning. The player was Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher,  according to numerous unconfirmed Twitter reports.

Sad news regarding Jovan Belcher of Kansas City Chiefs, shooting himself at the stadium after killing his girlfriend.

— Andy Head (@AndyHead02) December 1, 2012

This news out of Kansas City is absolutely horrible. RIP to Jovan Belcher.

— Jeff Ratcliffe (@JeffRatcliffe) December 1, 2012

The suicide occurred at Arrowhead stadium, which is currently on lockdown.

* * *

Rolling updates:

Belcher’s Wikipedia page has already been updated with information about the alleged murder/suicide.

* * *

These Twitter users say Belcher recently had a baby:

Jovan Belcher just had a baby. Ugh.

— Mike Garafolo (@MikeGarafolo) December 1, 2012

From FB page “Jovan is a daddy! Congratulations! Zoey Michelle Belcher born 9/11/12, 7.35lbs, 20″ fb.me/1VKquRRkQ

— Mr. ManSitChoAzzDown (@AngryBlkManDC) December 1, 2012

Damn… this pretty much sums up how tragic this is… #JovanBelcher twitpic.com/bi5qjz

— Mr. ManSitChoAzzDown (@AngryBlkManDC) December 1, 2012

* * *

Maybe this wasn’t a homicide. One Twitter user says Belcher’s girlfriend may survive the shooting:

@rolandsmartin girlfriend may live.Jovan Belcher is the player that committed suicide.

— Melvin Daniels (@melvind02) December 1, 2012

* * *

A producer for a local radio station received an anonymous tip about Belcher shooting his mother earlier this morning. The producer believed the tip was a “creative hoax.”

(1/2) Anonymous caller claiming to be a policeman says authorities are headed to Arrowhead to arrest #Chiefs LB Jovan Belcher for allegedly

— Nolan Woodford (@TeamACW) December 1, 2012

(2/2) shooting his mother.Surely, an extremely creative hoax.But the way things have gone for the #Chiefs this year…

— Nolan Woodford (@TeamACW) December 1, 2012

All other reports seem to indicate that Belcher shot his girlfriend, not his mother.

* * *

Coaches and the Chiefs’ general manager reportedly witnessed the suicide:

Jovan belcher killed himself in front of Chiefs head coach and GM #crazy

— Grab N’ Go (@bart_grabowski) December 1, 2012

KC police chief says Kansas City Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher shot himself in front of “a couple coaches” and police.

— Ryan Hains (@RynoHainser) December 1, 2012

(Note: In an earlier update, Twitchy misidentified a coach and the GM as Chiefs’ players.)

* * *

The Kansas City police chief has ID’d Belcher as the shooter?

KC police chief says Kansas City Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher shot himself in front of “a couple coaches” and police.

— Ryan Hains (@RynoHainser) December 1, 2012

* * *

The Chiefs are scheduled to play the Carolina Panthers tomorrow at Arrowhead Stadium. Will the game proceed?

Reports of a shooting at Chiefs’ practice facility, NFL advises Panthers to travel as planned: blogs.charlotte.com/panthers/

— Jonathan Jones (@jjones9) December 1, 2012

There is no way the Kansas City Chiefs should play tomorrow after today’s tragedy.

— Ryan Hains (@RynoHainser) December 1, 2012

Suspect we’ll hear soon that the #Chiefs– #Panthers game in Kansas City will be postponed. Can’t recall anything like this.

— Sports Collector (@SportsCollector) December 1, 2012

* * *

Fans are saying RIP to Belcher:

Very very sad…. I hate reading stories like this…and the 3 month old baby who was left behind… =( RIP Jovan Belcher

— natalie nunn(@missnatalienunn) December 1, 2012

RIP Jovan Belcher. You were a great guy and I know that. Never will forget ya #resteasy

— Jake W. Devlin (@_JakeyLicious) December 1, 2012

#RIP Jovan Belcher. Terrible news for a guy who had The world in front of him.

— Warren Smith (@Warren_Smith8) December 1, 2012

what happened to the chiefs is tragic, RIP Jovan Belcher

— Maurice Shelton (@mshelton4) December 1, 2012

RIP Jovan Belcher Kansas City Chiefs its a crazyy world man my prays go out….

— iRussygetFlee (@iRuSsyGetFleE) December 1, 2012

Let’s not forget that this man reportedly shot (and may have killed) his girlfriend:

Why would idiots say RIP to a murderer Jovan Belcher?And not only that but now a 2 month old has no parents. No sympathy to him.

— Chris M (@InvCmNj26) December 1, 2012

Rip jovan belcher? I think not, he SHOT his gf.

— Countra Boy Larry (@TeamTandB) December 1, 2012

Don’t get why people are saying RIP to Jovan Belcher when he murdered his girlfriend, killed himself and has left a 3 month old child alone.

— Sam (@TheBookOfSams) December 1, 2012

Can’t believe I’m seeing R.I.P. tweets for alleged murderer Jovan Belcher. He killed a woman. That’s a B.S. cowardly act. SMH

— Barry Cunningham (@barrycunningham) December 1, 2012

Yeah get out of here with your Rest in Peace Jovan Belcher tweets… If what they’re saying happened really happened. Get outta here w/ that

— Mike Ryan (@MikeRyan790) December 1, 2012

* * *

Unconfirmed, but this beautiful woman (Kasandra Michelle Perkins) appears to be Belcher’s girlfriend:

From FB… Jovan Belcher, girlfriend Kasandra & daughter Zoey on Thanksgiving on.fb.me/VlYjNs

— Mr. ManSitChoAzzDown (@AngryBlkManDC) December 1, 2012

Damnit. RT @angryblkmandc: Jovan Belcher’s daughter Zoey Michelle was born this past Sept. His girlfriend’s name was Kasandra Perkins

— Nig Flair, esq. (@MyNig) December 1, 2012

facebook.com/kasandra.m.per… damn RIP. she was beautiful

— Tanya (@Legginz) December 1, 2012

Perkins and Belcher had apparently set up a baby registry.

* * *

Some MSM outlets have yet to report the name of the shooter:

An unidentified KC Chiefs player has committed suicide at the team facility, police confirmed Sat. morning. es.pn/YBgKyk

— SportsCenter (@SportsCenter) December 1, 2012

Meanwhile, “Jovan Belcher” is trending on Twitter. If people can’t get the name from the MSM, they will find it elsewhere.

* * *

Reporter Chuck Goudie of ABC7 in Chicago reports that police confirm Belcher “shot and killed” his girlfriend before taking his own life.

Confirmation from @kcpolice that #Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher shot & killed girlfriend, drove to Arrowhead then killed himself.

— Chuck Goudie ABC7 (@ChuckGoudie) December 1, 2012

Police were reportedly on scene at Arrowhead when they heard the shot.

MORE: @jeff_rosen88: KCPD: Police were getting out of car when they heard the shot. #Chiefs

— Micah Grimes (@MicahGrimes) December 1, 2012

* * *

As of 1:30 p.m. ET, it looks like the Chiefs-Panthers game will go on.

NFL says KC/Panthers game in KC tomorrow willbe played as scheduled.

— LexiStemple (@LexiFoxNews) December 1, 2012

NFL has full plans to play Chiefs game tomorrow. No changes for right now. See how it unfolds

— Jay Glazer (@JayGlazer) December 1, 2012

* * *

Source says #Chiefs Belcher murder-suicide followed argument over @treysongz concert kansascity.com/2012/12/01/394…

— Kansas City Star (@KCStar) December 1, 2012

A friend of the woman killed by Belcher told the Kansas City Star the couple argued after she returned home from Friday’s Trey Songz concert. The source was unaware of prior physical abuse.

Clark Hunt, chairman and CEO of the Kansas City Chiefs, released a statement this afternoon.

Statement from Kansas City Chiefs Chairman & CEO Clark Hunt – kcchiefs.com/news/article-2…

— Kansas City Chiefs (@kcchiefs) December 1, 2012

The entire Chiefs family is deeply saddened by today’s events, and our collective hearts are heavy with sympathy, thoughts and prayers for the families and friends affected by this unthinkable tragedy. We sincerely appreciate the expressions of sympathy and support we have received from so many in the Kansas City and NFL communities, and ask for continued prayers for the loved ones of those impacted.

Hours later, media are now beginning to report that Kasandra Perkins is the woman shot to death by Belcher.

Chiefs LB Belcher shot himself in front of the team’s head coach and GM after he killed girlfriend Kasandra Perkins nyp.st/Xc5yYN

— New York Post (@nypost) December 1, 2012

Kansas City Police identified the girlfriend of a KC Chiefs player killed in a murder-suicide as Kasandra Perkins. She has ties to #Texas.

— NBC DFW (@NBCDFW) December 1, 2012

* * *

Belcher’s fans have reportedly set up a makeshift memorial outside his childhood home.

https://twitter.com/scottyeidz/status/275013614807699456

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2012/12/01/breaking-kansas-city-chief-allegedly-commits-homicide-and-suicide-unconfirmed-killer-was-linebacker-jovan-belcher/

[adamthewriter]

The continuation of The Great Milk Lord And The Ultimate Choccy Choccy.

“Jay”

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

“Here is your cookie sir, fresh right from the oven at the heat of 9,000 Melvin. Just like you requested” a enthusiastic cookie clerk said. I never know what to say to people for their service. I want to believe that he really cares about my cookie needs. How could He? When we live in a world centered around money. I mean, did he really heat my cookie to 9,000 Melvin? Did my cookie really come out the oven? “Sir? Sir?! Your cookie? ” said the cookie clerk. “ Oh. I’m sorry man sometimes I go to places In my head” I said as I left cow-mart. Its a beautiful day outside. Maligornia is great this time of year. I have been waking up at the break of dawn for years. Seeing the sun rise above the mountains and seeing the green sky is always something that brightens my spirits. I need to get home so I can Drink My milk and eat my cookie. I like my cookies at the heat of 9,000 melvin because no matter what it never gets cold, until I eat it that is. I don’t own a car because thats how my parents got killed. I know the guy who did it. I know where he lives. I know his name. I know his family. I thought about murdering all of them but They don’t give you milk or cookies in prison. I have reached my parents home. It doesn’t feel like mine even though its my inheritance. It reminds me of the tragedy and not what it was meant to be, A blessing. My parents were wonderful people they took care of me. They gave me everything i ever wanted. Growing up, I had no friends because my parents told me that you are a special kid and normal people won’t understand the greatness you possess. I never understood that. I thought thats something parents just tell their kids. Anyway. Its time for me to get the milk. The secret basement. I go to the stairs that leads to the door. I open it. There it is the glorious milk maker. Its shines and I can see my reflection in its glossy finish. The red button awaits my touch. I push it and out comes 28 glasses of milk. My parents told me that 28 glasses is the perfect quantity that you can consume. They told me it will provide me with the strength that a human needs. I still don’t know why it was 28. The glasses come out on a platform that is easy to maneuver. I bring them to the milkaroom. Where I do all the drinking and consuming of cookies. I take a sip of the first glass. This flavor compares to no other ones I’ve tasted. My body starts to buzz. I feel like a cell phone when your at school and it goes off. Hopefully people are smart enough to put their phones on vibrate in school. Wouldn’t want the teacher taking your phone. I feel strong. Strangely strong as if I can lift anything. My legs feel powerful. Why is this happening? I don’t think I can make it to work. I work for moogle. A website for searching everything and anything milk related. It sucks though but It pays for all the cookies I eat. This is what I get for only drinking chocolate milk. My parents said there is power that comes with the the different types of milk. White milk And Chocolate milk. Depending on the person it can give you special powers unique to who you are. My parents told me these things but I never believed them until now. They also only gave me chocolate milk because they said it holds the key to light. White milk holds the key to evil. They said that a chosen one rises up every 100 years to prevent the destruction of the world from a evil being that is chosen as well. I really should’ve of listened to them but I was just a kid. I lost them when I was 17. I want to devour the the bastard that killed my parents. I want to rip his hands off and his feet. Then I will grab his lips and tie them shut so He will never be able to drink anything again. My dear parents. Did they know I was going to be this? Why couldn’t they tell me I would become this? I was too young? Was that It? They tried to speak truth to me. I loved them so much. I should’ve fucking listened! No, I did listen but I believe if their were alive, I’m sure that they give me all the answers. What does this power mean? Am I an abomination? Am I the one meant to save the world or Am I meant to destroy it? All I do is drink milk and work At moogle? How can I save anybody? Damnit! My pathetic life was so nice. Just me, my milk and the great outdoors. I can’t stand this anymore! I need to know what I’m turning into. Everything in my parents house is broken. The furniture is in pieces. I didn’t move, i’ve just been dealing with my thoughts. My mind is racing. I can’t feel any physical pain. I am unstoppable. I’ve always been slow. Never been able to lift the 45 pound bar in weight training class. I’m running down the street. Cars are flying behind me. A trail of wind is following me as I run. I will run and run away from it all. I will destroy the fucking disease that killed my parents. I was interrupted by A reddish, bluish portal that appeared in front of me. I dart through it unable to stop. I wake up in my bed. At least it feels and looks like my bed. Something is wrong. My clothes don’t fit anymore. I stand up but I bump my head on the ceiling. I crouch and try to move to a mirror but all the mirrors are black. I get outside. There is no sun, no trees and no cow-mart. I see a group of odd looking people wearing dark robes moving towards me. I can’t move. I can’t fucking move. They are coming closer. They stop when they all stand in a line in front of me. They stare at me with such intensity. They speak with loud voices in unison. “ Jay, You are the new Milk Lord. You are chosen to save us all from the Great Darkian. A foe that is chosen by the darker side of the Choccy Choccy. You are the light, Jay. We don’t know who The Great Darkian will be this time around. We have had knowledge of you since you were born though. You’re parents knew as well. Jay, They were killed before they could help you through the transformation. Welcome to Your Destiny. You will come with us to Milknesia. There We will teach you the ways of the Choccy Choccy. Now, Come. We must give you knowledge and train you until we believe that you are ready for the final transformation. The evil one is already risen as well and has been approached by the First Great Darkian just as we approached you. Jay, it is time for you to understand. LET US BEGIN. ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ P.S the next part of the story will be the introduction to the new Great Darkian. That will be whenever so idk

[dib-thing-wannabe]

George what your feeling is your crush on Melvin which isn’t a big deal as that would overwhelm you

"....." *sigh* "God fucking damnit..."

[dib-thing-wannabe]

Harold when George caught Melvin there faces were close together

"... Oh god fucking damnit he's just being gay-"

"Did you say something?"

"Nope, didn't say a word."