#for some reason I was sure wendell was a woman | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

letarasstuff · 2 years ago

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Do You know what this is, Mr Bray?

(A/N): This has sat in my drafts for over 2 months and I'm sorry for taking so long to finally finish this request. I hope it lives up to expection

Summary: Wendell and the reader are dating. How will telling the team go down?

Aka Booth goes into Dad Mode

Warnings: Mention of small explosion, the reader has small burns on the arm from that, talking about a weapon (gun to be specific) and my obvious lack of knowledge regarding those, if there is more, please tell me

Wordcount: 1.9k

✨Masterlist✨

_____________________________

After putting the car into park, Wendell tries to take the keys from the ignition. But the little shaking of his hands proves to make this whole endeavor even more difficult. A gentle hand cups his, holding it steady and helping him with the task.

“Darling, if you are not ready, we don’t have to.” (Y/N) looks at him with soft eyes, sensing the distress Wendell is practically radiating like a heater. Still he shakes his head. “No, I’m ready. Really, it’s just that I feel like I’m meeting my girlfriends’ family for the first time. Which in some way, I do.” He laughs nervously and scratches his neck before losing his buckle.

A laugh erupts from the passenger’s seat. “You don’t. You know everyone, you work here, silly!” (Y/N) boops her boyfriend's nose before exiting the vehicle. Another smile spreads on her face upon seeing what feels like her second home since she is spending so much time there: The Jeffersonian Institute.

Both Wendell and (Y/N) work as “Squintern” there and happened to meet on a case a few months back. Quickly after realizing that this is the woman of his dreams, the blond asked her out and well, the rest is history.

In the beginning of their relationship the two decided to keep it on the low, wanting to figure out the way this is heading for themselves without the prying eyes of the other squinterns, snide comments by Dr. Brennan or the nagging from Angela as well as the awkward behavior Cam always puts on after obtaining information like this one. Also, Wendell is scared of Booth’s reaction, claiming his watchful eyes over them would burn the hairs in his back.

“Yeah I know, my little dove. But, they are practically our family and soon they will know the youngest of it are dating. Not that we are something like siblings- god no, this wasn’t what I wanted to imply. I just meant- I don’t know how to talk my way out of this,” he sheepishly looks at (Y/N), his face red as a tomato. In return, she kisses his cheek, rubbing a hand over his bicep in an affectionate manner.

“Don’t worry, Darling. They all will be happy for us, I mean either that or they don’t care at all. Both reactions are not bad for us.” But his troubled face still doesn’t vanish. “Honestly, I’m just scared of Booth.”

Again, this theme. Sensing your annoyance, Wendell quickly explains himself. “A few days ago, when I touched your shoulder while complimenting your work of reconstructing the skull, Booth watched us and had this ‘don’t touch my daughter again’ look on his face. And I have seen this in fathers of previous girls I was in relationships with, but none of them needed to pass a gun qualification regularly or are trained in a military level in what seems every single life aspect. I swear, he can snap me in two by just looking at me.”

(Y/N)’s lips leave an exasperated sigh. They discussed this topic over and over again. Wendell is more than sure that both Brennan and Booth adopted her as their unofficial child since they know her since she was a junior in high school and watched her grow up and supported her career as a forensic anthropologist from the beginning.

(Y/N) on the other hand feels like this is not true at all due to all the comments they make she feels like they are just people sharing a long friendship. Said comments are teasing, but Wendell and her are still working on the whole social cues thing together.

“Darling, you are imagining things. Just yesterday Seeley called me the single reason for getting gray hair after Jack and I blew up a little bit during an experiment.” He animatedly gestures his hands in her direction. “Exactly! This is something only a father figure say- wait. Hodgins and you blew up during an experiment! Why didn’t you tell me about that?!” His face immediately takes a look of new worry, a deeper one than the previous one. That was only about people’s opinion, but this look is about his girlfriend’s safety.

“I told you to be more careful when you conduct these with him! You know what- I’m gonna kill him for being this reckless all the time” this and many more things does Wendell grumble while the two of them make their way through security without any hitches.

Now it’s her turn to look sheepishly at him. “Look, I didn’t tell you not because I didn’t want to, I just forgot about it. And we are both fine! We only lost a few arm hairs and have some slight burns. We were already scolded by Cam, so you don’t need to lecture me too.”

But this doesn’t help Wendell’s mood either. “I will lecture you as long and as often as I see fit. It seems like the amount I already did wasn’t enough, because here you are, telling me about something like that as if you were talking about what you had for lunch. I need to be informed if you get injured. I need to make sure you are fine mentally, emotionally and physically. That’s part of the job description as your boyfriend. Show me the burns, please.”

While Wendell lectures (Y/N) and inspects her injuries they continue to walk towards the platform, not paying attention to who is close by. Until a voice cuts his rant off with a loud “BOYFRIEND?! OH MY GOD!” Coming from nobody less than Angela Montenegro herself.

The scream is loud enough that everyone comes out of their offices, throwing away any project they were working on. While (Y/N)’s face turns hot by all of the sudden attention, Wendell’s gets white as a ghost seeing Booth step out of Brennan’s office.

Unfazed by the couple’s expressions, Angela has still her gaze fixated on them. Wendell’s hand still clasps around (Y/N)’s wrist in order to deem the burns non life-threatening. “I knew it! I knew that you two are together! Jack, pay up!” A groan comes from the entomologist. “You just made me fifty bucks poorer, kids. I hope you are happy now.” He says with a sigh, getting his wallet out of his back pocket and hands a bill to the brunette. Her smile is unmatched.

“Is that true, Mr Bray? Are you having a relationship with Miss (Y/L/N)?” Brennan asks the now red faced man. Booth positions himself next to hir, his arms crossed in front of him with his face turning into an intimidating look.

His eyes are switching between his boss, her husband and his girlfriend. The last one gives him an encouraging smile. After taking a deep breath he gives her a nod paired with a smile of his own. He lets go of her wrist, instead threading his fingers through hers. “Yes,” he says, turning towards Temperance, “Miss (Y/L/N) and I are engaging in a relationship.”

She looks at him with a satisfied smile on her face. “Well then, I wish you two good luck. Also, (Y/N),” Brennan addresses her, ”I want you to remember what we have talked about.” Now it’s the young woman’s turn to look embarrassed. Still, she gives out a meekly “Yes, I do.”

Hoping that this whole ordeal is over now, the male turns back to the platform, where Cam already awaits her team. She has a warm look for the youngest between the group.

But he isn’t let off the hook that easily.

“Wendell, I got something in my car that I need help with”, Booth shouts for him, leaving no room for discussion. While most of the team gives him a look of terror and pity, (Y/N) flashes him a smile and a sublte thumbs up, thinking that Seeley really does need help with something.

The way to the garage is basked in an uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable for Wendell at least, Booth is enjoying this obviously. After what feels like an eternity, he decides to break it.

“So, Wendell Bray. What do you think is the reason you are dating (Y/N)?” Startled by the sudden question, the young man gaps at the agent. He needs a second to collect himself again. “I- Agent Booth, we, I- ahem- I date your- (Y/N)! I date (Y/N) because I love her, Agent Booth.” Ok, maybe he isn’t as collected as he thought he is.

“Aha”, Seeley acknowledges, popping the trunk of his SUV open, “Isn’t love a pretty strong word?” Wendell watches him take a big plastic case out.

“It is, still I’m sure. I love (Y/N) and she loves me. We both are willing to make this relationship work. We know that our jobs are demanding and we both are dedicated to our careers. I think that’s why we understand each other so well and know exactly what the other one needs. I attend just as much to her needs as (Y/N) does to mine. I know love isn’t enough to keep a relationship alive, but it’s part of the foundation.” He looks up at the agent with nothing but honesty in his eyes. It makes Seeley sigh before popping the plastic case open.

Inside is some kind of rifle. After all, Wendell is not a weapon expert, so every gun with a long snout is a rifle to him. “This, my dear Mr Bray, is one of my specialties. If - I’m talking in an ‘if’, I can’t give you more - if you hurt (Y/N), I’ll follow you around with this one. You know, this kid is like a daughter to me and Bones, so you know what this talk is about. Except for, I won’t kill you. Injure? Yes, definitely. But not kill. I want you to live with the guilt of hurting one of the most innocent souls on this earth. You’ll never see this - me - coming. Understood?”

Booth’s expression should induce the biggest fear into Wendell he ever felt. Instead, a wave of great respect overcomes him. Now he knows that there are people caring about his girlfriend beyond a friendship level. There is a familial bond, people (Y/N) can and does rely on outside from him. “Understood and respected, Sir.” They shake hands, exchanging mutual respect.

“Good, now that this is settled, I wish you two the best,” He tells the young man while packing everything up again and closing the trunk. “You are kind of the best fit for her in a lab like that. God knows you are the only normal one, and I got a wife and a nearly-daughter in there. Let’s get back inside before they send the cops out, thinking I killed you. We should also meet up for a beer or something soon again, have a man to man talk. What do you think?”

As they enter the platform in a cheery manner, everyone looks at the pair with bulging eyeballs. Everyone except for (Y/N), who is just happy to see them getting along just the way they were before the announcement. After all, she is right.

If you read this far, please consider leaving a comment or a reblog (or even a commented reblog). Giving feedback has the same effect on writers as watering your plants, it will help them grow <3

#wendell bray x reader #seeley booth x reader #temperance brennan x reader #angela montenegro x reader #jack hodgins x reader #wendell bray #bones team #bones team x reader #bones fanfiction #x reader #reader insert

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spine-buster · 5 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 1

A/N: To celebrate William “Thirst Trap” Nylander’s birthday last Friday, I’m going to do a double post this week! (Also maybe because he’s technically not in this chapter). Make sure you set your clocks for Thursday at 7:30pm cause that’s when I’ll post Chapter 2. Chapter 3 will then proceed next Monday on our regular once-a-week schedule.

September 3rd, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was still looking for a job.

She was still sending out her resume to companies. She was still making follow-up phone calls. She was still creating alert notifications for jobs she’d be interested in. She was still going for interviews. She was still shaking hands and thanking people for their time. She was still writing follow-up thank you emails. She was still getting rejection calls. She was still submitting work to writing contests and magazines. She was still getting “It’s not what we’re looking for right now” emails.

She sighed.

So maybe getting the dream gig was harder than she thought.

It wasn’t like the bank had let her go. She was still earning something to keep her afloat, but it was the bank. It wasn’t writing, it wasn’t anything else. It was the same stuff every single day and Aberdeen was starting to resent it. She didn’t move downtown to stay a bank teller. She moved downtown to start her career, and this was not starting her career.

But then a phone call came on Sunday – peculiar, she thought, since it was a long weekend and had expected everybody and their mothers to be at a cottage – asking if she wanted to come in for an interview. To MLSE. For the personal assistant job. Aberdeen didn’t even remember applying to MLSE. But she was desperate, so she said yes, and now she found herself looking in the mirror with her best “interview outfit” on ready to ace it.

She took a deep breath. She could do this. She packed her bag, made sure she had her wallet at keys, and left the condo, deciding to walk the short way to 50 Bay Street so she could pick up breakfast on the way. Even while eating the ham and swiss sandwich, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach – it didn’t calm her nerves at all. For some reason, she felt like this was her last chance to build something towards her career. If she didn’t, she’d be stuck bank-telling forever. When she stood outside the doors of 50 Bay Street, she took a deep breath before walking in.

��When you arrive, tell the receptionist you are looking for Frances Munro” the woman on the other line had told her when she called for the interview. As she approached the receptionist, she tried to look as confident as possible. “Hi, my name is Aberdeen Bloom. I’m here for an interview with, um, Frances Munro?”

“Aberdeen Bloom?” another voice called out.

Aberdeen looked up to see another woman lurking in the back, a clipboard in hand, dressed impeccably well. “Yes. Hi.”

The woman looked at her. Aberdeen could see her give a quick up-down. “Great. Human resources certainly has an odd sense of humour,” she quipped, chuckling for nobody but herself. “Follow me.”

Aberdeen did as she was told, giving a polite nod to the receptionist who was already ignoring her. She circled around the desk and followed Frances, who walked through the door but didn’t hold it open. “Okay, so I was Brendan’s personal assistant but I recently got promoted so now I’m looking for someone else,” Frances explained.

“Oh, so you’re replacing yourself.”

“Well, I’m trying to. We tried to be proactive and hire early but the last two Brendan sacked after only a few weeks. We need to find someone who can survive here – who can survive Brendan’s schedule and survive the pressure of the Leafs. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Aberdeen looked around awkwardly. “Who is Brendan?”

“What?” Frances stopped dead in her tracks to look back at Aberdeen. “Oh my God, I will pretend did not just ask me that – Brendan Shanahan, he’s the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” she practically hissed at her, continuing her walk. “Not to mention a hockey legend. If you work a year for him you can get a job in any adjacent field you want – sports, media, journalism, writing, whatever. A million people would kill for this job.”

Writing. Writing. WRITING!!!!! Alarm bells were going off in Aberdeen’s ears. “It sounds like a great opportunity. I’d love to be considered.”

Frances giggled, pushing her clipboard up to cover the smile on her face. They had stopped in front of a series of doors and Aberdeen felt like she was going to have to pick the one without the tiger in it. “Aberdeen…the Toronto Maple Leafs are a hockey club. An interest in hockey…even just a little bit, is crucial,” she explained condescendingly. Aberdeen wondered how someone like this could even get promoted. “Do you play hockey?

“No.”

“Do you watch hockey?”

“No.”

Frances looked shocked. “Do you know who the Toronto Maple Leafs are?”

“Of course I know who the Toronto Maple Leafs are,” Aberdeen huffed. “I just don’t…I mean, I don’t…”

“If I put a picture of Mats Sundin in front of you right now could you pick him apart from Wendel Clark or Doug Gilmour?”

There was an awkward pause. “Are those Mr. Shanahan’s right-hand men?”

“Oh my God,” Frances muttered under her breath. “Have you ever been to a game?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

“No – no, I’m not lying,” Aberdeen said quickly. “One of my friends – her dad gets tickets through clients or whatever. I’ll go to maybe one a year with her family. But it’s not – I’m not like…the experience is fun.”

Before Frances could respond with something that was ruder than the last thing she said, her phone let out a really loud notification. She balanced the clipboard on one hand as she took out her phone. But as she looked at the message on the screen, her face dropped. “Oh my God, oh my God, no!”

Aberdeen’s face dropped too. “What’s wrong?”

Frances dropped her clipboard onto the desk and ran around it, grabbing the phone receiver and dialling a number. Almost automatically, she began talking. “He’s on his way. Tell everyone the story needs to be retracted now,” she barked before hanging up. A man walked through another door and suddenly, it was complete mayhem. People were running through everywhere.

“He wasn’t supposed to arrive until 9:30. What happened?” the man asked Frances.

“Those idiots at the Sun had the audacity to actually post the story about his daughter online. God, these people!” Frances huffed.

Aberdeen stood awkwardly as everyone seemed to go into mayhem mode. Frances was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, that one guy had mysteriously disappeared, and men in suits were in and out of everywhere with panicked looks on their faces. She watched as Frances whipped into the office and began putting stuff out on the desk – a glass of San Pellegrino water, a venti Starbucks, and the sports sections of all the local newspapers. When she was done, Frances grabbed the clipboard from her desk, a pen, and ran back down the corridor they just came from, leaving Aberdeen there, standing alone. Awkwardly.

Eventually, she could hear Frances’s voice again – much more polite this time – and footsteps of very expensive shoes clacking down the hallway. “Yes Mr. Shanahan, of course.”

“And tell David at The Sun that I’m this close to revoking media access to the locker room if he publishes another article to do with my children ever again,” a voice Aberdeen could only assume was Brendan Shanahan’s was echoing down the hallway.

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Then tell Ben up in the legal department to draw up the paperwork necessary for that to scare them,” she heard, and finally, they rounded the corner. Frances and Mr. Brendan Shanahan, President of the Toronto Maple Leafs. He was angry. Aberdeen could tell, even if she didn’t hear any of his last sentences – his body language showed it all. She stepped back a few steps so he could get into his office unimpeded, where he would very obviously yell at the top of his lungs once he shut the door.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Frances stood in front of Aberdeen, shielding her from Brendan’s view as he looked back at Aberdeen from inside his office. “Nobody – well – human resources sent her about the personal assistant job and I was going to interview her…but, but she’s hopeless,” she chuckled out, “and totally wrong for the job—”

“Well clearly I’m going to have to do that myself, since the last two you sent me were completely inadequate,” he deadpanned. Frances’s back stiffened at the words. “So send her in,” he finished as he sat down at his desk.

Frances walked out of Mr. Shanahan’s office. “Mr. Shanahan would like to see you,” she said politely, loud enough for him to hear. It was when she leaned in closer that she began to whisper so he couldn’t. “Brendan Shanahan is the absolute nicest person you will ever meet,” she began, “but he is also the busiest, most intense, most dedicated hockey professional in the entire National Hockey League. Do you understand?”

Aberdeen gulped. “Yes.”

“And I hope you know that this is a very difficult job for which you re totally wrong, and if you mess up my head is on the chopping block.”

‘That might not be so bad’, Aberdeen thought. She would have appreciated some words of encouragement, like what Kasha had given her this morning, rather than the shpeal she was getting now. But Aberdeen digressed, and nodded her head. She took out a copy of her resume from her purse before walking in.

When she did, she couldn’t help but notice all the fine detailing of his office. A lot of oak, bookcases, a lot of framed pictures of his family, and a giant Toronto Maple Leaf logo plastered – literally plastered – onto the wall. He even had a giant oak desk – so regal – in the middle of the room.

“Who are you?” Brendan asked in a tone much softer, but still angry.

Aberdeen took a deep breath. This was her time to shine. “Hi Mr. Shanahan. My name is Aberdeen Bloom,” she said, stepping forward awkwardly to place her resume on his desk. “I recently graduated from the University of Toronto—”

“And what are you doing here?” he asked.

Aberdeen blanked. What was she doing here? “Um, well, I think I could do a good job as your assistant, and um…” she started, noticing that Brendan was putting on his glasses. Her gave her a look as those words left her mouth. He grabbed the newspapers off his desk and placed them in front of him, over her resume.

‘Alright Aberdeen. Cut the bullshit’ she told herself. “Yeah, so, I graduated U of T and want to become a writer. I sent my resume out everywhere, and my work to try to get published, and finally I got a call from the MLSE human resources department, and…well, basically it’s this or bank-telling.”

Brendan didn’t look up from his newspaper. “So you’re not a fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Aberdeen’s body stiffened. “Uh…no?”

“And before today you had never heard of me.”

“…No.”

There was an awkward pause. Brendan didn’t seem like he had any more questions in him – if he even cared. It was so clear that he didn’t and that she was bombing this interview. But Aberdeen felt more words coming. “I was recently published in Acta Victoriana, the oldest continuous university magazine in Canada – twice, actually – and was also published in the Hart House Review—”

“I think we’re done here,” Brendan said, not looking up from the newspaper. That was it. Cut throat. Didn’t care.

Aberdeen swallowed her pride. So this interview was a dumpster fire from the get-go. But it was him that came in angry and him that came into this without an open mind. She couldn’t help but scoff at how he dismissed her; he didn’t even have the courtesy to look up. She turned to walk out.

‘Don’t let it end like this’ her mind told her. ‘You have so much within you that he doesn’t want to see’.

So she turned around. “You know what? You’re right. I know nothing about hockey,” she began, her voice as strong and powerful as she could make it. “The woman who brought me in asked if I knew the difference between Matt…Gilmour and something…something Sundin, and I didn’t. I don’t fit in here,” she continued, noticing that he finally looked up. “I’m a girl who grew up in an old bungalow in Etobicoke with immigrant parents. I’m an English major with a double minor in classics and film. But I’m smart. I’m really f…really smart, and I learn fast, and I will work hard if you give me the chance to do so here—”

“Good news – they’ve agreed to take down the story,” somebody burst into the room interrupting her speech. Brendan looked at her until the person laid their iPad down in front of him. “The tweet linking the article is gone and it’s completely gone off their website. Adrienne Batra wants to call you to personally apologize.”

“There’s no way I’m speaking to that woman,” Brendan mumbled. “Tell her I want it in writing. And one to my daughter as well.”

“Thank you for your…time,” Aberdeen said, as if he gave her any. She walked out of his office and out of his life forever.

Aberdeen decided to take the stairs, slowly walking down the flights of stairs, hearing her shoes clack against the bare concrete. There, she could at least wallow in her self-pity after that train wreck of an interview. She could deliberate about her next choices and steps. Keep bank-telling? Go back and get her Master’s? Take a new course? Tell her parents how she was failing? Move back home? Never do anything with her life? Live in her parents’ basement for the rest of her life? Maybe she should just stay in this stairwell. Maybe she should start living here, since there was nothing else for her out there in the big wide world. Maybe she’d become a hermit.

As she finally reached the ground floor, she thanked the receptionist again, who ignored her again. Typical. As she was about to walk out of 50 Bay Street, she heard her name being called. “Aberdeen!”

She turned around. Frances was waving her back, rolling her eyes at the same time. Aberdeen furrowed her brows. Did she forget something? What was going on? She scurried over to Frances. “What’s wrong?”

“Brendan wants to speak to you.”

Aberdeen gulped. She was going to get yelled at by the President of the Toronto Maple Leafs. He was going to completely obliterate her entire life and not-yet-burgeoning career for that little stunt she pulled inside his office with that speech, and she’d never be able to find a job anywhere in Toronto again. She may as well just move into her parents’ basement now.

As they both rode the elevator back up, Aberdeen’s heart kept beating faster and faster. “Do you know what he wants to speak about?” Aberdeen asked.

“I have no clue,” Frances said absent-mindedly, typing something into her phone.

When they arrived back upstairs, Frances led her straight back into Brendan’s office. He was working on his laptop now, instead of reading his newspaper over Aberdeen’s resume. “Brendan, I have Aberdeen back for you,” Frances announced.

“Excellent,” he said, his voice much more upbeat than what is was five or ten minutes ago. “Franny, I’d like you to take Aberdeen to get her picture taken for her new MLSE identification badge,” he said.

Frances’s eyes bulged out of her head. So did Aberdeen’s. “W-What?” Frances stuttered out.

“And after that, I’d like you to take the town car and take Aberdeen to the Eaton’s Centre to get her an iPad Pro with a keyboard so we can start the process of downloading all the necessary apps and internal mail server she’ll need to do the job.”

Aberdeen’s stomach dropped. “I…I got the job?” she asked, completely flabbergasted. Was he nuts? Completely, certifiably insane?

“You start next Monday. Is that fine with you?”

Aberdeen found herself nodding.

***

“I’m so glad Steven could get that done for you today,” Brendan said as he rounded the corner of his desk so he could sit in his fancy big chair. Aberdeen nodded, looking at the screen of her new iPad Pro. Steven, one of the guys from tech support, had helped her download everything she needed to have on it.

“Yeah. It was all really fast.”

“After you finish up here today you may need to go back to the Eaton’s Centre,” Brendan informed her. “You’re going to need to purchase a work wardrobe. Keep every receipt because MLSE will reimburse you. I prefer black, but really…get whatever you think is appropriate for an office.”

“Okay.”

“No heels necessary. When we travel, I obviously don’t mind something more laid back – especially trips to the west coast. Do you have a valid and working passport?”

“Yes sir.”

“Make sure you have it when traveling. Our charter plane will still need to see it. We’ll make copies.”

“Yes sir.”

“You’ll need to be available every game day. We usually have Sundays off, but it’s a very untraditional schedule. You’re okay with that?”

“Yes sir.”

“And I have your contract for you,” he said, grabbing some paperwork on the desk. “We’ll have someone from the legal department come and explain it shortly,” he handed it to her, “but you’ll see the salary at the bottom of the first page.” Aberdeen looked down. Her eyes bulged at the number. “If everything is to your liking, then we can sign.”

“Okay,” she nodded her head. She gulped.

Brendan looked at Aberdeen and could tell she was nervous – it was obvious in her short “Yes sir” responses anyway, but she looked like she wanted to curl into her shell. “Before Ben from legal gets here, I would like to apologize about this morning,” he said. “A local newspaper ran an article about one of my daughters, and my children…well, my children are completely off-limits. Everybody knows that. But sometimes some journalists like to see how far they can take things, even though they know family is off limits.”

Aberdeen understood where he was coming from. If anyone ever said anything bad about Siena or Camden, she’d have their head on a spike. She couldn’t even imagine what it was like for a father, or any parent for that matter, to have an article published about their child without their permission. “I understand, Mr. Shanahan.”

“We are like a family here, you know – MLSE, but the Leafs especially. You will feel part of that family soon enough.”

Aberdeen nodded nervously. “I’m sure I will, Mr. Shanahan.”

“Well…” he shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his chair and smiling at her. “Congratulations, Miss Bloom. You are now an employee of MLSE.”

***

“With the Leafs?!” Kasha was shocked when Aberdeen told her. She’d started pouring glasses of wine when Aberdeen told her she got a job, but once she revealed the specifics, Kasha was shocked. “Gosh Aberdeen, remember when my dad would bring me, you, and Siena to games with the company season tickets?”

“I know.”

“And now you’re working for them?!”

“For the President. I’m his personal assistant.”

“Oh my God!” Kasha exclaimed. “Seriously though, I bet a million jocks would kill for that job,” she commented as she finished pouring the wine.

“Yeah. Great,” Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. “Thing is, I’m not one of them.”

“Well, you gotta start somewhere, right?” Kasha offered. She picked up both wine glasses, handing one to Aberdeen. Kasha held her glass up. “To jobs that pay the rent.”

Aberdeen giggled. “To jobs that pay the rent.”

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justicemotivators · 4 years ago

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A Tribute to the Incredible Strength of Victims’ Families - Part 1

Ann Ming - Julie Hogg - Double Jeopardy

We should always remember the victims and their families when we talk about true crime. It’s easy to focus on the killer, or the perpetrator, trying to understand how anybody could do such things. Even so, what is sometimes more astounding is the courage and strength showed by the families of the victims. For Part 1 of these stories I want to highlight the case of the murder of Julie Hogg, and her mother’s subsequent battle against the legal system.

Julie Hogg was 22, herself a single mother of a young son. She lived in Billingham, Stockton-on-Tees, UK. The family was close, she would see her parents everyday. Julie’s marriage to her son’s father had recently ended. Julie had a job delivering pizzas, and she would leave her son with her loving parents when she went to work.

Her son was with her parents on a night in November 1989. The next morning, Julie’s mum, Ann Ming called Julie on her phone to wake her at 7.30. She couldn’t get through to her daughter, and began to worry. Ann drove to Julie’s house, which was locked and the curtains were drawn. There was still no answer. She asked Julie’s brother to break into the house, and he was suspicious of how tidy the house was, as the family knew Julie was quite messy. As a single mother of a three year old son, that is understandable.

Julie was reported missing, and her house was searched, but even after 5 days, they could find no clue to help the investigation. Ann Ming did not believe Julie had gone somewhere of her own accord, because she would not have left without her make up.

Julie’s son was due to move back into the house, this time with his dad, whom Julie had married. A smell was noticed coming from the bathroom. Ann, Julie’s mother, ripped off the panel below the bath, and found Julie. The forensic search apparently had not taken that step. Julie’s three-year-old son was in the house at the time of the discovery. At the post-mortem, it was discovered that she had suffered a sexual assault, but there was no clear cause of death, as her body was discovered three months after her death. The sexual assault had left some DNA from the perpetrator. This DNA belonged to Billy Dunlop. When his home was searched, they found Julie’s keys hidden, with his fingerprints on them.

At the trial, the defence spoke about her ‘promiscuity’ and tried to cast doubt on the evidence by talking about Julie having multiple sexual partners. It was also in many news articles, implying that she deserved her death because she had ‘no morals’ or that she in some way brought it on herself. It is absurd and abhorrent to be blaming a murder victim for her murder based on who she is rumoured to have been sleeping with.

The defence also suggested the keys had been planted in Dunlop’s house by the police. Of course, another absurd accusation made to cast doubt on the evidence. Juries in the UK must come to a guilty verdict only if they are sure ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ that the perpetrator is guilty. The jury could not in fact come to a unanimous verdict, or even a majority verdict. The judge discharged the jury and ordered a retrial.

Again, outrageous suggestions were made at the trial, for example that she had died as the result of an accident during a sexual activity. Even if this were the case, it doesn’t explain how she came to be found under the bath, and why he hadn’t sought medical help at the time of the incident.

Billy Dunlop was acquitted of the murder of Julie Hogg, to the outrage and bewilderment of her family and the police.

Later, it was heard around the town that Billy had been bragging, talking about having killed Julie and got away with it. Unfortunately, having already been acquitted, he could not be retried for the same offence because of an old law. The law of double jeopardy. This law was created to protect powerless civilians from being repeatedly prosecuted for the same crimes, when the state was all powerful. Now the law was going to protect the guilty.

The case of Stephen Lawrence will help to change this law. He was murdered a group racist white men. They stabbed him at a bus stop in London, UK, seemingly just for being black, though the five who were arrested were not charged. The Lawrence family brought a private prosecution, which acquitted the men of the charges. A police officer and president of the SuperIntendent Association, named Brian McKenzie was troubled by this double jeopardy law, and made a speech at the SIA conference, which was attended by the Home Secretary Jack Straw. The Home Secretary is responsible for law enforcement above the police and judiciary.

The MacPherson Inquiry into the failure to convict perpetrators for the killing of Stephen Lawrence, came to the conclusion that the prosecution of this crime was affected by institutional racism, and made a further recommendation that the double jeopardy law should be changed for murder cases in which new and compelling evidence has come to light after the conclusion of the trial. After the MacPherson Inquiry, the Home Secretary went to the Law Commission to request that all changes in the recommendations from the inquiry were instated. This included changes based on the findings of institutionalised racism in the justice system, and that of the law on double jeopardy. The Law Commission is an independent organisation which reviews and reforms the laws of England and Wales.

Julie Hogg’ s killer, Billy Dunlop, was convicted of two attempted murders after Julie, an ex-partner of Dunlop’s and her new partner. In prison, he confessed to a prison guard that he had killed Julie Hogg. He still could not be retried for her murder, as the double jeopardy law had still not been reformed yet. Instead he was tried for perjury - lying under oath in court. For this, he received 6 years in prison. Ann Ming heard this man confess to killing her daughter, and told the court details of the death he had caused, and then after everything she and her family had been through to get justice for her daughter, she was understandably upset at the sentence he received. This is where Ann’s campaign to overturn the double jeopardy law begins.

She first went to see her local MP, within a few days of the perjury sentencing for Billy Dunlop. The MP Frank Cook agreed to take Ann’s letter directly to the Home Secretary. Within days, Ann Ming and her husband meet Jack Straw in London to try and convince him to change the law on double jeopardy, and not only that but to apply the changes retrospectively. In the UK law reforms are usually only applied to cases after the reform has been processed, not past cases. He told Ann that the next step would be for the case to be presented to the Law Commission for their review and reform procedure. So of course, Ann Ming went to the Law Commission herself as well. This was a woman, a mother, absolutely dedicated to finding justice for her daughter. By this time, the police officer mentioned earlier - Brian McKenzie was now advising the Home Secretary, and argued to him that the reform on double jeopardy should be made retrospective.

It wasn’t until 2002, that the new Home Secretary, David Blunkett, declared a change in the making. A ‘white paper’ was issued which details the proposed law reforms, which then has to be passed by the House of Lords, before being entered into UK law. Ann Ming was personally promised her own copy of this white paper, and on collecting it from the Home Office, she discovered that it included the recommendation to have the law act retrospectively. This was a huge achievement, that had so far taken her 13 years, and now all that was left was for it to be agreed by the House of Lords. She carried on her inspirational campaign of strength.

Ann Ming went to a conference for victims and families, and it just so happened that in the cafeteria at lunchtime, she spotted Lord Falconer, Solicitor General, sitting alone. She took her chance and approached him, retelling her case to him. He agreed with her views and arranged for her to present her case to the House of Lords. This must have been daunting, trying to convince them to reform the law and apply it retrospectively. This was Ann’s last big push, to get the law changed for her daughter and give her the possibility of a retrial for Billy Dunlop. Fortunately, a bill was announced by the Queen, which stated a retrial could occur if there was new evidence, and a Court of Appeal agreed that the evidence is compelling and may change a jury’s view on the guilt of the suspect. This still protected innocent suspects from multiple unnecessary prosecutions, while allowing a second trial in cases that warranted it, such as Julie’s.

Billy Dunlop confessed in court to Julie’s murder, and was the first person convicted after the reform of the double jeopardy law. Ann’s campaign had paid off. After 17 years, at last, she had got justice for Julie, after all her hard work. Later, Dobson and Norris, two of the five men arrested for the murder of Stephen Lawrence, were convicted of the racially aggravated murder. Many other cases have also been brought since the change to the law. See Mario Celaire, Mark Weston, Wendell Baker, Russel Bishop, Michael Weir, Irvine Watt and Surjit Chhokar in Scotland.

This post was inspired by watching Catching Britain’s Killers: The Crimes That Changed Us - series 1 episode 2 - Double Jeopardy. I found Ann’s work to be inspirational, after the brutal murder of her daughter and her determined campaigning for her justice.

Watch it on bbc iPlayer here:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m0009dz2/catching-britains-killers-the-crimes-that-changed-us-series-1-2-double-jeopardy

https://www.bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/proginfo/2019/42/catching-britains-killers

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double_jeopardy

#true crime #victim #crime #uk #criminal law #victims family #investigation #forensics #Ann Ming #Julie Hogg #double jeopardy #victim blaming #victim family courage #murder #tw #trigger warning #tw murder #Stephen Lawrence #macpherson inquiry

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readro · 3 years ago

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Funny quotes for a good laugh

Looking for something funny to bring a smile to your face? Then take a read through these humorous sayings and have a giggle, curated by the Readro review team.

“I prefer someone who burns the flag and then wraps themselves up in the Constitution over someone who burns the Constitution and then wraps themselves up in the flag.” – Molly Ivins

“It’s just a job. Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I beat people up.” – Muhammad Ali

“God did not intend religion to be an exercise club.” – Naguib Mahfouz

“The only time a woman really succeeds in changing a man is when he is a baby.”– Natalie Wood

“It’s always darkest before the dawn. So if you’re going to steal your neighbor’s newspaper, that’s the time to do it.” – Navjot Singh Sidhu

“The only thing that stops God from sending another flood is that the first one was useless.” – Nicolas Chamfort

“When you go into court you are putting your fate into the hands of twelve people who weren’t smart enough to get out of jury duty.” – Norm Crosby

“As you get older three things happen. The first is your memory goes, and I can’t remember the other two.” – Norman Wisdom

“Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.” – Oliver Goldsmith

“If you must make a noise, make it quietly.” – Oliver Hardy

“A woman’s mind is cleaner than a man’s: She changes it more often.” – Oliver Herford

“Man has his will, but woman has her way.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m schizophrenic, and so am I.” – Oscar Levant

“There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.” – Oscar Levant

“What the world needs is more geniuses with humility; there are so few of us left.” – Oscar Levant

“Always borrow money from a pessimist. He won’t expect it back.” – Oscar Wilde

“Always forgive your enemies – nothing annoys them so much.” – Oscar Wilde

“I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.” – Oscar Wilde

“I can resist everything except temptation.” – Oscar Wilde

“I can stand brute force, but brute reason is quite unbearable. There is something unfair about its use. It is hitting below the intellect.” – Oscar Wilde

“A camel is a horse designed by a committee.” – Sir Alec Issigonis

“Of all the things I’ve lost I miss my mind the most.” – Ozzy Osbourne

“The only reason some people get lost in thought is because it’s unfamiliar territory.” – Paul Fix

“To err is human, but to really foul things up you need a computer.” – Paul R. Ehrlich

“I have learned from my mistakes, and I am sure I can repeat them exactly.” – Peter Cook

For plenty more humour content, check out Readro today.

#books #ebooks #readro review #readro reviews

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hows-it-holed-up · 5 years ago

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Perfunctory Photo Recap: Bones 6x23

Well, we’re in week who knows anymore! of lockdown, and I’m in the mood for a nice crime procedural. There are many to choose from, but only one has Angel and a spectrumy Deschanel sister going for it. I picked this episode – the season 6 finale – because some internet site I stumbled on told me it’s one of the top 5 in the series. And I always trust random internet sites I stumble upon. Let’s get on the case.

My Disclaimer: None of these posts will be in any way comprehensive, because I’m lazy. All of them are probably going to have spoilers of some sort for the entire series…or at least what I remember of it from when I last watched it an eon ago. Exactly what you want in a recap!

Examining the Bones: A body is discovered in the pin resetter thingy at a bowling alley. Booth and Brennan use this as an excuse to do an undercover mission as an affianced couple, while the rest of the team takes care of the murder-solving lab work. Plus we’ve got Papa Brennan! And Angela is about to have a baby! What a finale!

We open with a bratty little kid throwing a fit in a bowling alley because he wants a turn on the lane. I’m pretty sure his mom is Libby from Sabrina the Teenage Witch?

I’m aware that I could very easily look this up on IMDB, but eh who really cares!

The pins reset on their lane, and things get sufficiently gross and maggoty.

Not gonna lie, I chuckled at this.

Evidently the pinhead (too far?) was a member of a local bowling league, and the bowlers are apparently a famously insular group. This calls for an Undercover Job with Buck and Wanda!

According to Papa Bones, who is apparently on this bowling team and is their “in,” they’re acting pretty awk around each other! Did I mention they boned (lol) a couple weeks ago?

This is the team’s resident phenom and (obviously) taskmaster. There are few things I enjoy watching less than a precocious child who thinks they know The Most. Especially one who is also mean. And this one is MEAN.

But they’ve managed to find one! Angela is in labor and dear god I hate watching a labor/birthing scene. I can only imagine it must be just as horrible to have to act in them. Probably second only to sex scenes in terms of awkwardness, no?

Back at the bowling alley, we’re introduced to this red herring. He is in management(?) at the bowling alley and did not like our murder victim! Buuuut we’re only halfway through the episode so obviously he didn’t do it.

They literally have a computer in the delivery room so Angela can work WHILE SHE’S IN LABOR. This is insipid. This is everything that is wrong with American work culture. Leave Angela alone!

I guess working while your baby is crowning actually makes you super helpful and productive because now Buck and Wanda have some new intel about the murder weapon. Signs seem to be pointing toward the obnoxious little twerp, leading Bones to take a trip down Foreshadowing Lane.

Anyway, the murder weapon was the material and approximate weight of a child’s bowling ball, and cause of death was “to the face.” It seems like the kid tampered with the pin settings on the team lane so that it’d be easier for them to get strikes and 7/10 splits – and the murderee may have found out.

Yada yada yada, because reasons, they figure out it was actually the shoe rental guy! Which, I dunno, kind of fair? The above motive seems legit enough to me...

Case closed, everybody heads to the hospital to meet this tiny little cutie! It’s all very sweet and everyone is happy.

Booth and Brennan leave together, and Booth says some lovely things about how babies are blessings and this is the best day of Angela and Hodgins’ lives. And then Bones goes ahead and lays this on him:

He is very excited:

And the whole thing is heartwarming and adorable. But...

Sorting Through the Bone Room:

- All right, I found this just as delightful as the next crazy person who’s watched every episode of this show, but begging Hart Hanson/Stephen Nathan’s pardon ever so much, are they telling us that he knocked her up after just ONE NIGHT? Evidently they were acting super awkward around each other (Papa B kept commenting on it), so I don’t think we’re supposed to infer they’ve been at it off-camera for weeks. I know it “only takes one time” (my abstinence-only high school sex ed classes made very sure of that) but for real? Also, that sucks for them if they only got it in once before she got pregnant!

- I always forget how incredible Wanda’s hair is. Truly magnificent. 10/10. That necklace, though. WHAT is that thing made of?? Bottle caps and plaster of Paris? Wow.

- I definitely chuckled at Wendell not being able to work the Angelatron and stumbling upon a network-TV-friendy sex tape Angela and Hodgins made using a strangely distant camera.

- The team they’re bowling against has what I can only describe as a “predatory lesbian” on it who hits on Bones. To the show’s credit(?) there is also a man who does this, and I would say he’s more aggressive/objectifying than she is. And the fact that the woman is coming on to her isn’t really played for a joke, which I suppose is something. But on the other hand, you know, “predatory lesbian” trope. This show aired 9 years ago, and I feel like we were kind of past that by then already?

- Overall – despite an occasional eye-rolly moment – this was an enjoyable rewatch. I reveled in Buck and Wanda’s bowling alley shenanigans; I got all serotonin-y over a cute baby; in general my heart was warmed. I wouldn’t put this show at the top of my list for a full rewatch, but it feels like it would be a good WFH background show for corona times. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to rewatch that bowling DCOM.

#tv recap #spoilers #bones #6x23 #the change in the game

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hereliesbitches--me · 6 years ago

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SHIPPING INFO // Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

REPOST. Don’t reblog.

Tagged by: @monsieur-de-paris

What’s your OTP for your Muse?

At the moment, my most developed ship is Rosie and (@osteum‘s) Eddie Brock. Its my deepest passion for that reason, with the kind of dynamics they share, and the amount of interactions that stem around their association to each other. They have a whole family of 6 kids together (including the new addition of Dylan from the current Venom run) and honestly the ups and downs are what I live for. Its the chance I get to explore Rosie’s life as a Mom and a Wife and how she deals with it, mixed in with the regular events of her canon. How she deals with this deep love she has for Eddie and their family beyond any sane reason, and that butters my bread.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

Generally anything? As long as im comfortable with my partner, and how Rosie feels towards the said muse, its almost free range. Naturally im not gonna be too cozy with the extremes but If it serves plot purposes maybe I can budge. I can’t really say my own limitation mostly because half the time I don’t really know my limits until suddenly its in my face and too much, then I go “Woah alright, thats enough”

Naturally, anything shipping related needs to be something I can realistically see happening with Rosie. And she’s a hard bird to crack.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

Rosie really a grownass woman with kids, and she’s immortal so she’s more likely than not older than her partner. But Rosie is not gonna date not teenager that could be her kid. Im not gonna flip my shit over huge age gaps as long as there’s good chemistry but Rosie isnt gonna date someone who’s like.. under 25. It largely depends on the maturity of a person that will be the hit or miss with her.

She tends to be interested in older muses either way, It all varies by what gets plotted in a verse, but Rosie is a little more open to the idea of an older partner than she is someone younger. Even if she’ll never look past 32

Are you selective when shipping

At this point in time, im a tired old lady that literally just wants people to care for Rosie beyond being a tool for romance, so yeah. Im selective( arent we all?), but im generally open minded if we already chatted out some interesting dynamics. In the end, Rosie may be a sick person, but im not gonna have her jump dick or look for some V to slay just because she’s not that desperate of a character. If you wanna love Rosie, there’s gonna be a lot of baggage that is involved from emotional trauma and her off personality, along with her having kids ,

but if you’re ready to explore that field, im open. I just dont want something half assed, ya know? Need a partner thats just as enthusiastic about the ship as me, not someone just collecting her as a angsty neko girl they can go to whenever they don’t get what they want from someone else. Im a hella go big or go home type of Gal. I dont wanna end up looking dumb or making a fool out of Rosie for caring about a ship my partner doesn’t feel the same passion for. Im too tired to get treated like that. And Rosie deserves better than that.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

The moment dirty words start getting thrown in and the heavy petting turns into intentional acts of trying to turn her partner on, its nsfw and its going under read more. I have to be highly comfortable with my partner to actually be writing it but im not against it. Although it has yet to actually happen on my blog besides Rosie’s dirty jokes. Who knows what the future holds.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with

Atm, Rosie’s partners all have their separate verses and I fucking love them all

@quantahope with Rosie’s spaceman, Wendell. Its still in development but man is it delicious suffering and growing

@maxskulline has dragged me into the pokefandom with Max and Guzma, so Rosie and Max have that close BFF friendship with that touch of intimate passion thrown in there.

@fcllenstcr Rosie’s infamous relationship with the devil who’s nothing but trouble. There’s a lot of background history that goes into the relationship, but give em a few thousand years and suddenly Rosie finds herself the new Queen of Hell keeping the old snake in line.

@Cecidesent is Rosie’s main apostle husband, Guts. Written by Will too, Guts and Rosie is probably one of the oldest ships I got and I love them.

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

I would think its common courtesy to ask and not just force your muse onto another. Rosie is not exactly an easy person to just throw in with and chances are if you try she’s gonna shy away because bitch doesn’t know how to handle someone being equally interested in her. I would like to have talked for a while before throwing in with shipping , make sure our muses have good standing because Im not here to have Rosie used as a sex doll right away. But if you see some chemistry there, feel free to ask! Highkey chance im probably into it as well and have been too shy to ask.

How often do you like to ship?

Not often at this point. Im more concerned with Rosie making meaninful friendships nire than I am shipping her off with every person that comes along. There’s a lot of things to accept when shipping with Rosie and many things about her that arent just gonna magically go away just because she’s with someone. I dont mind it but its certainly not my priority.

Are you multiship?

The above information should tell ya by now that I am, however I do have my mains. The more passion and dedication you show me, the equal passion I put in myself. Thats how it goes for me and Rosie. Just fair treatment, ya know?

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

Ship more-or-less . Really not a priority but if it happens, it happens.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom

Naturally, EddieRosie and Gutsie take the cake right now since they are the most developed I have so far.

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Please just write with me and talk with me.

Thats all it takes.

Good chemistry, dont yank my chain and trail me along with fake interest, and im probably gonna already be into it.

Tagging: @curiousobjecthead @quantahope @thewhitepoison @draconicmatriarch @sunkissedkxd and anyone else who hasent done it!

#:ooc:#rp meme #thanks dara!!#now everyone knows what a tired person I am

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jennycalendar · 6 years ago

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very really married (12/15)

read it on ao3!

we’re in the home stretch. incredible.

Before the talent show, Giles’s reason for not telling Jenny the truth had seemed absolutely infallible. Above all else, a Watcher had to maintain the secrecy of his calling, and informing others of his duties might make them into targets or put them otherwise in danger. But keeping Jenny in the dark had put her directly in the line of fire, completely shattering the last real argument Giles had against not telling her. She had proven her trustworthiness time and time again, he had known her for more than long enough to know how good a person she was, and she had already known about the supernatural from the get-go. The concept of attempting to protect her now seemed rather idiotic, especially when she had protected him at every opportunity allowed to her.

There was one reason, however, that remained an incredible roadblock when it came to telling Jenny anything: the absolute trust in her eyes when she looked at him. She had placed her secrets and her heart with him, and Giles was so terribly afraid of hurting her when he revealed what he hadn’t told her. He had waited too long to tell her the truth, he knew, but if he’d known he would love her too much to risk losing her over his calling—

“Um, earth to Giles?” Buffy persisted. “Spiders? Crawling all around in the English classroom?”

“Spiders,” said Giles vaguely, only barely registering what Buffy was saying. “Splendid. I shall check my books for spiders, then. Thank you.”

“What is up with you?” Buffy demanded.

“Hmm?” Giles did his best not to think about his marital affairs. This, he thought, was exactly what the Council would deem inadequate prioritizing. “I’m terribly sorry, Buffy,” he said. “Might you repeat what you need me to research?”

“Spiders,” said Buffy with extreme impatience.

“I’ll need something a bit more specific than that,” said Giles pointedly.

“I gave you an explanation, you just weren’t listening!” said Buffy indignantly. Her expression changed into one of abject horror. “Oh my god. Is this what it’s like to be you?”

As Xander and Willow both started giggling, Giles sighed. “Again,” he said, “I do apologize. If you would kindly elaborate regarding the spiders—”

“All in Wendell’s textbook,” said Buffy, as though she had said it more than once before. Granted, Giles probably wouldn’t have noticed if she had. “And from absolutely nowhere. One minute we were all reading about active listening, and the next, boom! Spiders.”

“That does seem, ah, anomalous,” Giles agreed with some discomfort. He had no problems with spiders, as long as they kept their feet off of his books. “I shall do my best to look into it.”

“Look into what?” inquired Jenny, breezing in with an armful of snacks.

Giles caved. Jenny knew about their supernatural adventures, just…not his career as a Watcher. Perhaps he should ease her into it. “Spiders,” he said. “There was a rather unusual incident in Buffy’s class, and she suggested I research its causes.”

“Fun!” said Jenny, grinning. God help him, he had drunkenly married the perfect woman.

“Research is fun?” said Xander disbelievingly.

“I like spiders,” said Jenny, shrugging. “Also learning new things, but that’s mostly a side benefit.” She handed Willow and Buffy each a snack, gave the rest of the pile to Xander, and stepped up to Giles, giving him an apologetic smile. “I only have so many arms,” she said. “I hope you can survive without a bag of chips.”

“I’m sure I’ll live,” said Giles dryly.

“That’s the spirit,” said Jenny, gently bumping his shoulder. “Kids, you should probably get to class, okay? Rupert and I have the spider thing under control.”

“Keep him on task and don’t do anything gross in the library!” Buffy called over her shoulder, following Willow and Xander into the hallway.

As soon as the children had exited, Jenny draped her arms around Giles’s neck, smiling beatifically up at him. “So, like, what I’m hearing is we just can’t get PG-13 with the excessive kissing,” she said.

“Research, Jenny,” said Giles. It was no longer possible to separate his guilt from their moments of intimacy.

“Oooh, he’s using his sexy-librarian voice,” Jenny teased, and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. When Giles didn’t lean in, she opened them again, an expression of genuine worry crossing her face. “You okay?”

“I’m a bit out of sorts today,” said Giles hesitantly. “I’m afraid I may not be up for anything outside researching, at the moment.”

“Of course,” said Jenny, her face softening. Standing on tiptoe, she brushed a gentle kiss against his mouth. “Point me in the direction of whatever upset you and I will absolutely beat it up,” she informed him, giving him a lopsided smile.

Giles tried to smile back. “It’s merely my own poor decision-making that has me somewhat bothered,” he said honestly. “I’m sure it shall resolve itself relatively soon.”

He turned the Watchers’ diaries upside down for any mention of other Watchers who had found themselves in a similar situation to him. But the only mentions of family in any of the diaries came in the form of vague, oblique, often disinterested footnotes. Sarah inquired as to my whereabouts today, one read. I made it clear that she should not be asking such questions; she was abashed, but respected my position. Honestly, all that this cemented was that most married Watchers were utter cads to their romantic partners, which made Giles feel even worse for falling into that pattern. It had been different, before he had fallen truly in love. He had delighted in the thought of devoting himself to the job alone.

When research failed him, he drafted a speech. Or seven. But none of them quite adequately captured absolutely everything he wanted to say to her. Jenny, there is something I have kept from you—but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her quite so bluntly. Jenny, you know I love you—but that was using his love as an attempt to defend his dishonesty, and he couldn’t bring himself to do such a terrible thing. Jenny, not everything I have told you is true—but that called everything he had told her into question, including his stumbling, heartfelt declarations of love. It would shatter him, thinking Jenny doubted his feelings for her.

There was a knock on his door. Relieved by the excuse to put his sorry task aside, Giles hurried to answer it. “Buffy,” he said with relief. “How was patrol?”

“Snoresville,” said Buffy, making a face. She peered over his shoulder, frowning. “That doesn’t look like spiders, Giles.”

“Yes, well…” Giles fumbled for some semblance of an excuse. “The information you gave me was rather vague,” he said. At Buffy’s indignant look, he hastily clarified, “I don’t blame you in the slightest! It’s simply that I think talking to Wendell himself might give us a sense of the matter’s root cause.”

Buffy relaxed. “Fair enough,” she said. “Where’s Jenny?”

“She went home early, I think,” said Giles, stepping in front of the seventh draft of his speech. “I should probably head in that direction myself. Do you need a ride to your mum’s?”

“Seriously?” Buffy grinned. “That would be amazing. Thank you so much!”

“Of course,” said Giles, relieved. Buffy’s company was always a sufficient enough distraction. “Do tell me about—um, your day? How have things been going in your classes?”

Buffy’s smile vanished; she squinted at him, looking genuinely worried. “You okay?” she said. “You never ask about my life.”

This didn’t really make Giles feel any better about the choices he had been making. “Then I need to get better at that,” he said with a half-apologetic smile. “I truly would like to hear more about what you do outside of your sacred calling.”

Buffy blinked, then smiled again, more shy than buoyant. “Okay,” she said. “Well, do you wanna hear about my algebra test? I’m pretty sure I at least passed this one—”

Giles fell into step with Buffy, deciding very firmly to put the mess that was his marriage out of his mind until he reached home. Coming into the situation with a clear head might make his admission easier on both Jenny and himself—though, really, the most important part was that this was easy on Jenny.

Giles reached their small, cozy house, pulled up to the driveway, and saw his wife lying dead on the porch. No—no, it was just a shadow, wasn’t it? That couldn’t possibly be—he had had dreams like this, where he pulled the car up and Jenny was lying dead on the porch and she had died because he had waited too long to tell her the truth, and dreams didn’t come true this exactly, not with Jenny’s head tilted just so and her eyes wide and staring and oh God, it was her—

He slammed on the brakes, unbuckling his seatbelt and diving out of the car without bothering to take the key out of the ignition. He half-stumbled up the porch stairs, collapsing next to her body and then pulling her into his arms—was she still breathing? She might still be breathing, there might still be time—she was so cold—

“Rupert.”

Giles felt a shimmer of something as he turned to look at Jenny. Alive. And looking extremely angry, for a reason he couldn’t possibly fathom. “Oh,” he said, almost sobbing with relief. This was something magical, then. Whatever was going on, he couldn’t trust his senses, which meant that Jenny was nowhere near dead. He looked back down into his arms, and found that he was holding empty air. “Oh—I thought—”

“What the fuck,” said Jenny, and threw two of the Watcher diaries at him. One book hit Giles’s shoulder; the other very nearly hit him squarely in the face. “What the fuck—” She was shaking, tears in her eyes; she threw another Watcher’s diary at him, then held up the fifth draft of his speech. “Jenny, I love you,” she read. “Never doubt that I love you. Please understand that I kept this from you only out of concern for your safety—you bastard!”

Giles was having quite a lot of trouble processing what was going on at this juncture, especially since ten seconds ago, he had been quite solidly convinced that Jenny was dead. His shoulder stung, his speeches were scattered on the pavement, and Jenny looked like she was quite ready to hit him. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “I feel I am missing a quite integral piece of the puzzle—”

“Oh, no, that is my line right now,” Jenny retorted. “Because I fell in love with a sweet, gentle, honest guy who took all my secrets in stride, and I thought, god, how the fuck did I get so lucky, meeting someone who was willing to put up with me? And now I find out that you’ve been keeping this from me this whole time—and you know what, okay, I can get why you did it at first, but Rupert—” She pressed her fingers to her mouth, dropping the rest of the diaries on the pavement. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she said, “I trusted you. I wanted to stay married to you.”

Giles couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t trust just anybody,” said Jenny. No longer was there that vindictive fire in her eyes; she looked very small, and very tired. “I guess I don’t trust anybody, now.”

“Jenny,” said Giles weakly. “Jenny, if—if you read my writings, you, you must know that I intended to tell you—”

“Don’t,” said Jenny.

“Jenny, please—”

“I don’t know you,” said Jenny. “I don’t know a single fucking thing about you, if you’re the kind of man like the people in these diaries. How can you expect me to forgive you for this?” She turned, hurrying towards the still-running car, and got in, slamming the door shut and peeling out of the driveway at a terrifying speed.

Giles sat on the porch steps, feeling quite like he had been punched in the stomach. He felt as though he should go after her, plead his case—but her reaction had been exactly as terrible and as definitive as it had been in his imagined worst-case scenarios. It almost felt too terrible to be true.

And then he remembered Jenny, dead on the porch, cold and solid in his arms. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t.

Jenny wasn’t at home when Giles woke up the next day. It took him a moment to realize why the bed felt quite so large and empty, and another moment to realize that he had grown accustomed to waking up with her sprawled half on top of him, head pillowed on his chest, arm draped possessively across his stomach. Her absence brought back the memories of the previous night in full relief, and he swallowed, hard.

He would fix this. He had to fix this. Stranger things had happened in Sunnydale, hadn’t they? Stranger by far than his wife dead and leaving him on the same night. If his worst fears were coming true, then that meant that something was making them come true, which meant that none of this was really Jenny at all. And that meant that Giles would be able to look her in the eye and tell her Jenny, I love you, and I am sorry that I kept this from you. She wouldn’t find out from—

Giles stopped, sitting up in bed. He had left the library with Buffy that night, determined to put thoughts of the diaries out of his head. He had left the library, and he had left his office door ajar, diaries and speeches strewn across his office, visible to anyone who might come looking for him.

Jenny’s body had disappeared, Giles reminded himself all the way to school. Jenny’s body had disappeared, so it stood to reason that anything else that might have been a magical trick would have righted itself as well. If his office remained exactly the way he had left it, then that would prove the theory that his worst nightmares really were coming true, and it would put to bed any possibility of last night’s confrontation being real.

The look in his wife’s eyes—

Giles sprinted through the halls, ignoring Principal Snyder’s shout of “Mr. Giles, a little professionalism—” and nearly bowling over Cordelia Chase. He threw open the library doors, barely noticing the children gathered around the table, and rounded the checkout desk to find the door of his office still ajar.

“Giles—” he heard Buffy say from behind him. Her voice was small and shaky.

Giles’s office was a mess. The box of Watcher diaries had been upended and hastily sorted through, half of them open on the floor. One of his speeches—the half-crumpled first draft, which had been the most blunt and tactless in its phrasing—was sitting atop his desk, blotted with tears to the point that his handwriting was nearly illegible. Tossed to the floor was Jenny’s leather jacket.

And the moment felt so foolishly mundane. Nothing magical had slipped Giles up; no nightmare spell had brought his worst fear to life. His own distracted carelessness had revealed the truth to Jenny in the most callous way possible. She had discovered his secret from secondary sources, men who Giles found himself feeling less and less connected to. She saw him as not the man he was, but the man he was desperately afraid of becoming.

The nightmares, Giles thought, had been kinder.

“Giles,” said Buffy again, stepping up to place a tentative hand on his elbow. Giles turned, unable to think of anything he could possibly say.

“Ms. Calendar was here when we came in,” said Xander from the table, looking up at Giles with an unreadable expression. “She said—” He coughed, nervously, then said, “Did you guys get married in Vegas?”

And again, Giles found himself feeling as though he had been knocked sprawling. “I’m sorry?” he managed.

Buffy swallowed, tears in her eyes. Giles was reminded of their conversation in the halls regarding him and Jenny—she makes you super happy, Buffy had said shyly,and that’s really, really awesome—and realized that there had been another reason he had never wanted Buffy to find out what his marriage really was. “She said I guess this is what happens when you drunk-marry a guy in Vegas the day you meet him,” Buffy said unsteadily. “I-I don’t think she knew we had come in.”

“Yes,” said Giles, “well,” and gripped the checkout desk to keep his knees from giving way. His eyes were blurry with tears, and he would not cry in front of his charges. “I-I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said. “I don’t think I will be able to assist you in this particular paranormal venture.”

“Giles—” Buffy’s voice broke.

“Please excuse me,” said Giles, and took two unsteady steps into his office, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Outside, he heard Buffy begin to cry, and Willow and Xander’s murmurs of panicked comfort in response. He wished he was strong enough to go out and face them, but he couldn’t. Not when his Slayer knew he was an inebriated failure, and his wife knew he had lied to her for the entire duration of their marriage, and none of them knew how very much he had wanted to do good in the world. Dazed and miserable, Giles leaned against the door, then slid down to sit on the floor.

He tugged Jenny’s jacket over to him, running a hand down the leather, cradling it against his chest with the same tender hesitancy that he had once held his wife. It smelled like her—just barely, but enough to provide him with some semblance of comfort.

Giles stayed in his office for nearly three hours, surrounded by the wreckage of what he had meant to be a well-made plan. He kept on thinking about small, silly things that he had taken for granted: Jenny’s smile when he made her coffee, Buffy’s bright, clear laugh when she got a good punch in during training, Willow’s gentle, reproving words when she had found out the entire mess quite by accident. Really, if he had listened to Willow from the get-go, none of this would have happened quite so horribly, or hurt Jenny quite so much. He should have listened to Willow from the get-go.

There was a knock on his office door. Giles didn’t answer. Whoever it was, there was no way he could face—

“Rupert?” Jenny’s voice was tremulous. “Rupert, I—”

Without even making the conscious decision to do it, Giles stood, unlocking and opening the door with shaking hands.

Jenny was standing in the doorway, blouse torn, a bloody vampire bite standing out in stark relief on her neck. She swayed, but gripped the doorframe, steadying herself. Giles reached for her; she flinched away. “No,” she said. “We’re not—that’s not us anymore.”

Heart breaking, Giles let his hands drop. “What do you need?” he said in a low, shaking voice.

Leaning against the doorframe, Jenny wrung her hands almost compulsively, looking down at the floor as though she couldn’t quite bear to look at him. “Angelus attacked me,” she said. “He got a good bite in before I managed to dust him.”

“Angelus?” Giles repeated, bemused. “But it’s daylight, and—”

“Angel has his soul,” Jenny finished. “Yeah.” One of her hands fluttered to touch her neck, then jerked away.

“Jenny, are you all right?” Giles asked. The look she gave him in return made him regret ever speaking. “I just meant—”

“You don’t get to ask me if I’m all right,” said Jenny. “Okay? You just don’t.” She wiped her bloody hands on her skirt, then crossed her arms, staring down at the floor. “There’s obviously something supernatural going on here,” she informed her shoes, “and seeing as that is apparently your area of fucking expertise, I think you should be working on researching how to fix it.”

“Before that, I think you should seek medical attention,” Giles persisted. “You look as though you’re about to keel over—”

“Rupert, I don’t like being taken care of even when I do trust people,” said Jenny shortly, “and right now I do not trust you. Okay?”

“You can’t expect me to be able to focus on researching when I know you’re in this state—”

“You did this,” snapped Jenny. “You created this mess. If you’re gonna lie to your wife for months about who you are, then you have to just let her be upset!”

“There’s a stark contrast between letting you be upset and letting you bleed out in the library!” Giles retorted, frustration and worry overtaking his shame. “I don’t at all dispute your right to be mad at me, Jenny, and—” He swallowed, hard. “I won’t try and change your mind,” he said. “I can agree wholeheartedly that I am not the man you knew. But please, please let me patch you up before we continue any research. It’s all I ask.”

Jenny looked up at him, shaking. Then she said, “After this, I’m done, okay? I’m just—we’re done.”

“Of course,” said Giles quietly.

His ready acceptance seemed to take Jenny aback. “You’re not going to fight me on this?” she said, her voice wobbling.

Giles raised his eyes to hers. “I broke your trust, and I know you well enough to know that your trust is doled out sparingly,” he said. “Whatever you want at this juncture—whatever I can do to make things even slightly better for you—is what I will give you.”

Jenny nodded, and nodded again, gripping her elbows and returning her gaze to the floor. “Okay,” she said. “You can fix up my neck.”

As Giles stepped forward, the library doors burst open, Willow and Xander tumbling through. “Giles?” Willow called, then stopped, throwing her arm out in front of Xander. Both of them stared, wide-eyed, at Giles and Jenny.

It was a mark of how terribly shaken Jenny was that she couldn’t even muster up a smile for the children. She nodded in their direction, then looked up at Giles. “You can fix up my neck,” she said again. “Go get the first-aid kit from your office.” With that, she crossed the library to sit down at the table, leaning back in the chair to stare up at the ceiling.

“Giles?” said Willow, her voice trembling.

“Jenny has been made aware of my status as a Watcher,” said Giles simply.

That got Jenny’s attention. “They knew?” she said very loudly, standing up fast enough to knock the chair over. “They knew, and I didn’t?”

“They were in the line of fire—” Giles began, terrified that this new development would dissuade Jenny from receiving medical attention.

“Oh, and I’m not?” shouted Jenny, gesturing to the still-bleeding bite on her neck. Willow let out a strangled sob. Xander looked sick. Jenny didn’t seem to register either reaction. “So you’d rather tell yourstudents about your double life than your wife?”

“Don’t throw that word around like it means something to you,” retorted Giles before he could stop himself.

Jenny reeled back, stumbling into the table. The look of utter hurt on her face lasted only a moment, and then she was rounding on him with a new ferocity in her eyes. “Oh, that’s a laugh,” she said. “That’s really funny, Rupert, you talking to me like I’m the one who has reason to be doubted here. I’ve been above-board, I’ve been honest, I’ve told you how much I love you—”

“STOP IT!”

Giles and Jenny turned, for the first time fully realizing the presence of all three children. Xander was now leaning heavily against the checkout desk, Buffy was staring at both of them with furious, blazing eyes, and Willow—

Willow was crying, very hard, into Buffy’s shoulder.

“Oh,” said Jenny. Her voice broke. “Oh no.”

“Yeah,”said Buffy, somewhat hoarsely; she had had to shout quite loudly to be heard over Giles and Jenny’s argument. “Yeah. See what you guys are doing?”

“Don’t blame Jenny for this, Buffy,” said Giles immediately. “She has every right to be angry with me.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is or isn’t,” said Buffy flatly. “You’re supposed to be the adults here.”

To Giles’s surprise, something in Jenny’s face shifted. “Okay,” she said.

“What?” said Giles.

“Rupert, they’re right,” said Jenny matter-of-factly. “We can’t do this right now. There’s actual supernatural stuff we have to focus on.”

Giles felt oddly hurt. Jenny had shifted so easily from furious to businesslike; he didn’t know if he could make that effortless transition himself. “Of course,” he said, because what else could he say? “We have work to do.”

“I’ll take care of Ms. Calendar’s neck,” said Xander, straightening up. “Buffy, you should probably tell Giles about Laura and what you found out in the hospital.”

“Laura?” Giles repeated distantly.

“Laura’s in my English class,” Buffy explained unsteadily, gently removing herself from a still-sniffling Willow’s grip. “She got beat up pretty bad, and she’s not the only one.”

As it turned out, one of Giles’s more inane nightmares appeared to have come true—meaning that he found himself utterly unable to contribute to research of any kind. Willow took it upon herself to tremulously read him headlines, while Jenny turned to the Net for answers. Buffy’s information regarding Billy Palmer did help to some degree, but nothing was definitively discovered until Xander came running in from his fifth period class in mismatched gym clothing.

“Interesting look, Xander,” said Jenny, cracking a small, reluctant smile.

“Oh, ha ha,” said Xander, glaring at her. “Laugh it up all you want—you didn’t have your worst nightmare come true. I’m pretty sure Cordelia will have told the whole school—”

Jenny’s smile vanished, a strange expression crossing her face. “Wait,” she said. “Say that again.”

“What, that Cordelia probably blabbed about my little incident to everyone?”

“No,” said Giles slowly, seeing where Jenny was going. “Nightmares.” He turned to Jenny. “Jenny, you were attacked by Angelus. Xander, you—”

“I was in front of the class wearing only my underwear,” said Xander resentfully.

“Exactly!” said Giles, delighted by the realization. “And I found Jenny’s dead body on my porch last night, but it disappeared when—” He stopped, wincing a bit. “Well. The point is, I’ve had nightmares in that vein—”

“About me dying?” said Jenny a little shakily, sounding somewhat floored.

Giles turned to look at her, opening his mouth. Before he could say anything, however, Willow cut in very firmly, “You guys are on probation, remember? No more feelings talk until the nightmare stuff gets resolved.”

“Right,” said Giles, doing his best to look away from the no-longer-angry expression on Jenny’s face. “Nightmares.” Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, then added, “It seems reasonable to assume that Billy Palmer may have somehow crossed over from the nightmare world he’s trapped in.”

“And he brought the nightmares with him?” said Xander indignantly. “Well, thanks a lot, Billy.”

“Buffy needs to know,” said Willow suddenly. “She’s off with her dad, right?”

The concept of Sunnydale being exposed to a Vampire Slayer’s nightmares did not appeal to Giles in the slightest. “You’re quite right, Willow,” he said. “We need to track her down before something drastic happens.”

Quite a lot of drastic things happened. It was, after all, rather expected when one was wandering around in a compilation of nightmares. By the time Giles finally reunited with Willow, Xander, and Jenny, none of them had found Buffy, and they were being chased by what appeared to be a clown wielding a knife. Giles was beginning to long for the safety of two hours before—yes, his soon-to-be-ex-wife was livid with him, but at least he wasn’t about to die in the most undignified way possible.

To his surprise, at the end of the hall, Xander stopped, then stalked up to the clown, punching it directly in the face. It fell. “You are a lousy clown!” he shouted. “Your balloon animals are pathetic! Anyone can make a giraffe!” With that, he turned away, hurrying to catch up with them as Giles led the group outside.

“Ooh boy,” said Jenny, reeling.

Giles blinked. “Are you all right?”

“Um—no?” said Jenny. Her voice shook. “The sun, it’s, it’s—”

Abruptly, and horribly, Giles understood. “Xander, Willow, go find Buffy,” he said sharply.

“But Giles—” Willow began.

“Go,” said Giles, gripping Jenny’s hands. As the children hurried in the direction of what looked to be a graveyard, he said shakily, “You said you were raised on—on stories of Angelus.”

“I had dreams when I was little,” said Jenny, her nails digging into his hands. “I dreamed that—that he bit me, a-and then I’d be a vampire too—”

“This would have been extremely pertinent information to have half an hour ago,” said Giles. Any sensible Watcher would run, at this moment. “Are you quite sure that this isn’t my nightmare?’

Jenny shook her head. “No,” she said. “No. This feels like mine.” She sniffled. “I always dreamed that I managed to get away before he killed me,” she said. “And then the change would come on out of nowhere—” She seemed just as unable to leave him as he did to run from her. “Rupert, you, you have to go,” she said.

“Jenny—”

“Fix this,” said Jenny. “Okay?”

Giles tugged his hands from hers. He would have done anything to erase that terrible, terrified look in her eyes. “I love you,” he said roughly, and before she could say anything in response, he was sprinting after Willow and Xander, towards the graveyard.

The school was gone as soon as he stepped through the portal. That was the way dreams worked, Giles supposed—and more and more, the real world was functioning with the same impossible logic as dreams. “Willow?” he called. “Xander?”

They turned. “Where’s Ms. Calendar?” Willow asked, voice wobbling.

“I-I don’t know,” said Giles. “I think we may need to conduct the rest of this on our own. As soon as we find Buffy—” And then he stopped, realizing what, exactly, Willow and Xander had been looking at.

Buffy Summers, read the tombstone. 1981 – 1997.

“My nightmare again, then,” said Giles, quiet and heavy. He knelt down in front of the tombstone, dazed by how bloody impossible it felt to fix all this. How quickly it had all fallen to bits—and how strangely little it had taken. “I’ve failed,” he said, thinking of Buffy’s sweet, bright smile. “In my duty to protect you.” He swallowed, hard. “I’d say I should have been more cautious,” he said, “but I fear my caution has been all of our undoing. Had I been half as brave as you—” He dropped his head, swallowing. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

As he began to get up, a hand grabbed at his wrist. Willow screamed. Giles wrenched himself away, staggering back and watching, stunned, as Buffy pulled herself up and out of the dirt. “I thought I was dead!” she wheezed, raising her head to look at them.

A vampire, Giles realized. Only—she had retained her soul.

“Buffy, your face!” Willow gasped.

Buffy blinked, reaching up to touch her face—and immediately hid behind her hands. “Oh—god,” she whispered. “Oh—don’t look at me!”

“You never told me you dreamt of becoming a vampire,” said Giles slowly.

“This isn’t a dream,” said Buffy unsteadily.

“No,” Giles agreed. “It isn’t.” His thoughts returned to Jenny, looking small and shaken in the shadows. “But there is a chance we can stop it from continuing.” He stepped forward, placing a hand on Buffy’s shoulder; he wasn’t the only one who was having a difficult day. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, right now,” he said quietly. “If I could, I would take this responsibility on myself. But I need you to hold together long enough to wake Billy up and end this. Can you do that?”

Buffy raised her head. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I-I can try.”

“Trying is more than enough,” said Giles, and squeezed her shoulder.

Buffy woke Billy up. Giles was, overall, unsurprised; after all, Buffy had a flawless track record for stopping these sorts of things thus far. As they left the hospital, he was about to tell her as such when she said, “So we kinda need to talk about that whole married-in-Vegas thing.”

Giles nodded. After his nightmares had quite literally come to life, his previous worries about professionalism didn’t seem quite as daunting—if anything, they felt rather ridiculous. “We met on a layover,” he said, smiling a little at the memory. “In a bar. She was throwing her drink in some fellow’s face, and I happened to be at the next seat over, so that was our beginning topic of conversation.”

“Romantic,” said Willow, grinning a little in a way that made it clear she was only half joking.

“Quite,” Giles agreed. His own smile faded. “I’m afraid my memories of the marriage itself are—hazy. We woke up together the next morning,” he very pointedly ignored Xander’s low whistle, “and decided to stay married in the hopes of not immediately losing our jobs for such an impulsive, ill-conceived action.”

“So you didn’t tell us ‘cause you wanted to set a good example,” Buffy surmised thoughtfully. “And getting drunk-married in Vegas is, like, the opposite of a good example, right?”

“I don’t know, man,” said Xander. “This kinda makes me respect you even more.”

Willow gave Xander a disapproving look.

Buffy stared. “Wait,” she said. “So you guys were fake-married all this time?”

Giles nodded.

“And all the kissing and the gooey eyes and the making out in morgue drawers—”

“What?” said Xander. Giles groaned.

“I’ll explain later,” said Buffy, patting Xander’s shoulder. “My point is…” She trailed off, frowning a little. “Was all the kissing and hand-holding and gooey love talk just for appearances?” she said. “Because believe me, I could have definitely done without the morgue drawer thing.”

Giles smiled a little ruefully. “I think both of us could have done without the, ah, morgue drawer thing,” he agreed.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Buffy carefully. “Which I’m starting to think is kinda an answer itself.”

“None of it was just for appearances,” said Giles quietly, and realized the truth in the statement the moment after he said it. Jenny had never needed to protect him, or kiss him, or tuck her arm in his; no one would be paying rapt attention to the actions of a married couple on-staff. Both of them, he thought, had been looking for some kind of a connection, and within the layers of artifice they had quite accidentally forged something very real.

Buffy winced a little. Slowly, she said, “And Ms. Calendar’s mad ‘cause she found out you’re a Watcher.”

“Yes,” said Giles.

“And now she thinks that means you’ve just been making everything up.”

“Yes,” said Giles again, heavily.

“And you guys haven’t known each other long enough for her to know that you’re crazy about her.”

“Ye—” Giles stopped, blushing furiously. “No! I didn’t—that is—”

Buffy giggled, bumping her shoulder against Giles’s; Willow followed suit. “Giles has a cru-ush,” Xander singsonged.

“On my wife,” said Giles, mortified. Now he was remembering, with full clarity, exactly why he had been so reticent to tell the children the truth about his marriage. “May we please change the subject?”

“No way,” said Buffy, tucking her arm into Giles’s. “This is the best day of my life. This totally makes up for the morgue drawer stuff.”

“Oh, lord,” said Giles, but he found himself smiling just a bit.

Jenny was at home when Giles finally arrived, sitting on the sofa and drinking wine from one of his teacups. Upon seeing him, she set the cup down, looking almost expectantly up at him.

“Are you all right?” Giles asked quietly.

“I mean, I was a vampire for only a minute or two before the world fixed itself again,” said Jenny, trying to smile. “It wasn’t the greatest, but at least I didn’t kill anyone—”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” said Giles.

Jenny exhaled. “Sit down,” she said. When Giles had obliged, she studied him for a long moment, then said, “I-I don’t know how to even begin this conversation, Rupert, I really don’t. I mean, I meant what I said—I understand why you kept this from me for those first few months. We were at each other’s throats all the time back then. But…” She trailed off, looking down at her hands, then miserably back up at Giles. “I told you my big secret,” she said. “Granted, I kinda had to, but after that I started thinking I’ve never told anyone something like that before. And then I started thinking about how safe you made me feel, and how easy it felt to be honest with you, and that’s why I told you I loved you.”

Giles noted the use of the past tense, and did his best not to show how much it stung. “Is there any way I can make this up to you?” he asked.

“I honestly have no idea,” said Jenny. “Right now it’s hard enough to just be around you.” Her hands moved forward, almost of their own volition, as if to grip Giles’s again, but she hastily turned the movement into adjusting the hem of her sweater. She hesitated. “I think I need some space,” she said. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” said Giles. “I can, I can collect my things and—” He stopped at the look on Jenny’s face. “What?”

“I was going to say that I think I need to leave,” said Jenny. “Not you. I—I can’t be in our house right now.”

“But it has your computer here,” said Giles weakly.

Jenny made a soft sound that was almost a laugh. “You can finally re-box it up,” she joked, trying to smile. When Giles’s expression didn’t change, she sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just…I can’t be around you or your stuff until I’ve sorted myself out. I need to figure out if I can handle getting to know you all over again.”

Nothing has changed, Giles wanted to tell her. I never lied about the important parts of me. But he didn’t feel as though pleading his case was the honorable thing to do in this situation. “I love you,” he said softly. “So much. Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here no matter what you decide.”

Jenny gave him a soft, wobbly smile. “Okay,” she said. With everything out in the open, however, the way she was looking at him no longer felt as blissfully real as it had when…when he was simply Jenny Calendar’s husband, a clumsy librarian who needed protecting from the supernatural. Giles would have given the world to truly be the man she had fallen in love with. “I’ll see you around, probably. Have the kids let me know if there’s…I don’t know. Nightmares coming to life. Demons I should be looking out for.”

“Of course,” said Giles again.

It felt, in the strangest way, inevitable. He didn’t think he should feel so miserably hurt; he had always knew she would leave when the truth came out. But sometimes, when she had been patching up his face, or when she had kissed him, or when she had laughed at one of his oblique little literary references…he had dared to hope that perhaps they could have had something real.

#fic #very really married #so uh. this certainly is the next chapter

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twdmusicboxmystery · 6 years ago

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4x11: Analysis

Once again, wow! We again had lots of interesting symbolism in this episode of Fear. I don't think I enjoyed it quite as much as last week’s, but I'm very excited for where the story line is going. I'll reiterate what I said before: Morgan will eventually make it back to Rick and TF. It might take him the rest of the season or longer to get there. If they wanted to, they could keep him going back and forth across the country for a few seasons. I don't think they'll do that, but he's obviously not to make it back to Alexandria next episode, either. So let's get going on symbolism.

***As always, spoilers abound for Fear 4x11 in this post. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

We saw the peanut butter protein bars again. I mean, seriously? What are the chances that everywhere Morgan goes, he just happens to stumble across the same kind of food? It’s obviously symbolic. And remember that Beth ate peanut butter in Alone, and Daryl ate it just before escaping the Sanctuary.

I will say that I thought the whole Morgan-falling-sleep-and-not-realizing-he’d-been-driven-several-hundred-miles thing was weird. Falling asleep is one thing, but how would he not wake up when he felt the truck moving. It’s pretty unrealistic. So I think one of two things are going on here. Either the protein bar was laced with something, and he was essentially drugged. Or this is highly symbolic of something. Not sure which yet.

First, we had some definite Bridge symbolism going on here. We saw a total of 3 bridges in this episode (rule of 3s).

1) Morgan first decided to head back to Texas to pick up the Fear crew. He stopped on the bridge and decided not to go back to Texas. Later, he said it was because he was a coward.

2) The second bridge is the one where Wendell and Sarah decided to stop and unload the truck. The interesting thing here is that Jim accidentally knocked Morgan off the bridge and he fell down the embankment. That was interesting to me for two reasons. A) As I've talked about another bridge metas, we often see things were people falling off the bridge. Daryl and Carol off one in Consumed; a walker fell off one with Abraham in 6x06; a walker fell off one and almost hit Dwight in 7x03, etc. B) More than that, this reminded me a lot of what TF did in 5x10, Them. The walkers went tumbling off a very similar bridge in a very similar way. Could something about that sequence have foreshadowed Morgan in some way? Not sure yet.

3) The third bridge is when Morgan met them the last time and they finally agreed to take him back to Texas to pick up Team Fear Family before going on to Virginia. A plan is officially in place for Morgan to return to Alexandria. (Yea!)

There was a lot of beer in this episode. When Morgan gets to the truck stop, he turns on the lights and there are lots of signs for beer. Later in the episode, he meets Jim (who actually kinda looks like Jim from S1, if you ask me) who brews beer for living. There's a lot of talk about beer, about brewing beer, we see beer bottles, we see ingredients and equipment to brew beer. It just goes on and on. Moonshine, by definition, is home brewed beer. Now were looking at a guy who wants to go to Alexandria to brew beer for the people there. Are we seeing some connections?

Let's talk about the broadcast. Morgan spoke to someone on the radio when he got to the truck stop in Mississippi. It had kind of a sinister feel to it, very much like Terminus. Then, when we found out that Sandy and Wendell weren’t who they said they were, it seemed that perhaps whoever was broadcasting were the “good people” after all. But at the end of the episode, we see a very sinister-looking woman who sounds a lot like the one Morgan talked to on the radio. So, chances are whoever was broadcasting, assuming it was her, is not going to be a good thing for Morgan and his group. Note to TWD survivors: never trust the voices on the other end of a random radio broadcast.

Wendell is in the wheelchair. This could possibly be a fulfillment of something in the Governor’s S4 episodes.

Let me just say I'm thinking more and more that Beth could show up in fear. Obviously, I don't know for certain, but it's feeling more and more plausible to me. If that's true, and if something about Wendell leads to her, then what I'm about to say will be true. If not, then it might be.

Remember back in 4x06, after the Gov met Tara and Lily, he went upstairs to get the backgammon game for Tara's father. While there, he went into the bathroom and found a wheelchair. This reminded me a lot of that for a couple of reasons. 1) In both cases they were in a bathroom. 2) In both cases there was a wheelchair, and by extension somebody who couldn't walk.

We’ve also had a bathroom motif in Beth symbolism during past seasons. It wasn't anything quite this obvious (Morgan on the toilet), but we especially saw it in 4b (of regular TWD).

In the pudding house, a walker came out of the bathroom and almost got Carl. He shot in the head, exactly in the spot where Beth was shot, and the walker jumped up and was not killed by that shot.

Later, when Rick is trying to escape the Claimers, he goes out through the bathroom (holding scissors, btw). I know there were other times we saw the bathroom motif, but can’t think of them off the top of my head.

I'm won’t go too much into this right now because I haven't posted my theory about it yet. In our group, we talked about how there's been a motif for cooling devices on the show. You can trace it back to season five, such as when Glenn found three silencers stashed in a mini fridge. Or even Still because while looking through the golf club, Beth and Daryl are in a walk-in refrigerator at one point. But we've seen it a lot, including around Morgan. He and Henry talked about the HVAC cooling system in S7. Anyway, we saw more of it here. I also noticed a refrigerator in the opening sequence, which isn’t always there. More on that to come.

There were at least two bear references in this episode (Bear Symbolism). The woman broadcasting to very truck stop called for someone named “Polar Bear.” Obviously she wasn’t referring to Morgan, and we don't know who Polar Bear is, but I thought that was interesting. Especially because of the Polaris/North Star connection.

Later in the episode, on bridge #2, a group of walkers showed up and Wendell says, “Bear in the Bushes.” So yeah, interesting bear references.

Let’s go into some details.

The broadcasting voice also said, “Sweet syrup on a short stack.” It reminded me of all the Bisquik references we've seen, including one at Grady. And of course Abraham’s famous line about Bisquick and pancakes.

While on the toilet, Morgan looks at a dog magazine. (Toy Dog, dog with sunglasses, even a hotdog on the back. True story.) Now, remember the Sirius/dog symbolism is all about a return. So, does this mean Morgan will eventually return…to the toilet? Maybe. (Just kidding.) It really could be about him returning to TF, though. I could see the symbolism of applying to him. There was no obvious reason for it to be applied to Alicia in 4x10, especially as it used specifically Rottweilers. So, it’s still suspicious that we’re seeing dog symbolism so much in Fear this season.

When he first meets Wendell and Sarah, they start explaining about the trucks and we see a shot of three open trailers with boxes in them. First, there’s three (rule of threes; we saw lots of threes in this episode actually). It also reminded me a whole lot of the Wolf trailers in 5x16. Think, “How the Harvest Gets Home.”

I also noticed several possible references to orange soda. Wendell said they’d been hauling the truck since the "soda was flowing." What he said was a lie, but still, soda reference. Later, with when Morgan met Jim, Morgan could smell the alcohol on him. He said it was “particularly floral IDA with hints of citrus.” Again, just reminded me of orange and then combined with soda reference made me think of Denise, who was a Beth proxy. (And because of Jim, we can also throw in the alcohol reference.)

Morgan saw a walker stuck in a mud bog. Nothing came of it this episode, but I had some thoughts. We saw something similar in 4x07 with the Governor: walkers in a bog blocking the road. I also noticed that in the trailer for next week, we see something similar. So, not sure what this walker is leading to, but I'm sure it's foreshadowing of some kind.

We saw Morgan with a grocery cart. I wondered if it was a callback to 7x13 and the grocery carts there. Remember, Richard use them to block the road and take the melon which led to Benjamin's death. It makes sense for callback like that to be in this episode because Morgan still running from his grief over Benjamin's death.

Let's talk about the mile markers. We saw a lot of different numbers and mile markers in this episode. I doubt I got them all written down. The interesting thing is that most of them add up to either 9 or 10. More often 10. For example, Sarah tells Morgan to meet them on route 91 (9+1 = 10), mile marker 64 (6+4=10). When Morgan tells them gives them fake directions to Alexandria, he tells them to get on I 81 (8+1=9) exit 77 (okay, that doesn't work so well) and then to go 10 miles.

I could go on, but I wonder if this points to S9 and/or S10. It could mean that Morgan will return to TF in S9/S10. Given that he is trying to get back to Virginia, that would make sense.

Oh, and at one point they mentioned the Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway. I figured such a specific reference must be important, so I looked it up. Yes, it’s a real highway that goes from California on the west coast to Florida on the East. (I’m not super familiar with it because it’s a ways south of where I live, so I never drive on it.) Anyway, guess what route this highway is? That’s right: Route 10. Just saying.

It is also interesting that the boxes are only left at mile markers that end in four. S4, perhaps?

When Jim and Morgan talk in the back of the truck, he said, "I get it." So we have a guy that brews his own beer (kind of like moonshine) and says, "I get it." Hmm. Who could I possibly be thinking of? ;D (He also says he grew stuff up on his rooftop, kinda like at Grady.)

Jim also says, "We’ve turned back time here, Mister. History is built on beer." Time references. A history of alcohol. Sounds like Beth references to me. He also mentioned bunch of civilizations that had alcohol, including Egyptian, Sumerians, Babylonians, and a few others. did he say Romans? It caught my ear because a lot of the symbolism in the show comes from these civilizations. For example, the Sirius/Dog Star has major ties to ancient Egypt, the Nile, and how it flooded and Egyptian beliefs about that.

Morgan being on the top of the car, under a bridge, next to a river really caught my attention. Think about it: he fell off a bridge near some water and found himself stuck in/on a car and surrounded by walkers. Sounds a whole lot like what we think happened with Beth. Oh, and he gets left behind there by his group. Just saying. I also had the thought that the car he is trapped on top of looked a whole lot like the car Enid was and when her parents died. Don’t know if that's thing. Just a stray thought.

At one point, Morgan even loses his shoe.

Morgan says, “You can come back,” to Wendell and Sarah. They do come back, though only because Morgan lied about how to get to Alexandria. Still, they did the right thing by coming back to get him and now Morgan is going to do the right thing by going to get the other members of Team Fear Family

When he escaped the walkers, there's more interesting symbolism. He uses the mile marker signed to fight them. (A whole lot like Maggie in Alone, one of our red-letter Beth episodes.)

When he looks over at the box that was left of the mile marker, check out the shot:

There’s a water bottle (Beth carried water bottle), a truck that looks a whole lot like the Wolf truck and the one Morgan is now traveling in, as well as a knife. It isn't particularly like Beth's knife, but Morgan uses it to escape. (In other words, he saves himself.) Just interesting.

After that, we see his feet as he walks back toward Texas. I thought this was really interesting in terms of Morgan’s story line. Remember that back in 4x01 when Morgan left Alexandria, we saw his feet running as he headed toward Texas. It showed the same thing here—his feet constantly moving toward Texas—but it’s the opposite. Before, he was running away from his problems. Now he's walking toward Texas to help with the people there. He’s actually trying to get back to Alexandria, but he's going to do the right thing and go get his friends in Texas first. He’ll bring them back to Rick's group where he believes they'll have the best chance rebuild the world and survive. So his motivations are the opposite here.

I almost think this is the end of an arc. Remember, the end always mirrors the beginning. This is the end of Morgan's running away arc and from now on he’ll be moving forward, toward Alexandria (even if is going back to Texas first) in a positive way. So I’m very interested see what happens next in the show.

Overall, I really did enjoy this episode. I think some exciting things are happening with Morgan and there still a very good chance he could run into Beth on his way back to Alexandria.

This next part is as much head canon as anything else, but I've been thinking about a lot this week and the more I think about it, the more sense that scenario makes.

1) Remember that Morgan/Lennie James was seen at the cabin where Emily filmed in S5, which is part of the missing scenes. Just the fact that Morgan was there is super significant to me. Well gotta keep an eye out for that cabin and see if it shows up in Fear.

2) Morgan bringing her back to Alexandria would fit well with the D.S. al coda structure and what happened when Daryl and Aaron met Morgan and brought him back to Alexandria in 5B.

3) Earlier in the season, we saw Morgan looking into cars for survivors and trying to help people he found. Between that and all the other symbolism we've seen in Fear the season, it just makes sense that maybe that’s where it's going.

I’ll say again that there were a lot of tens in this episode. If Morgan doesn't return to TF until S10, there's a chance Beth may not either. But of course that's even assuming I'm right. If I'm totally wrong about this and she shows up some other way in TWD S9, this will all be a moot point. This is just what I'm seeing and why it’s making me excited.

Okay, I'll shut up now. How would everyone else like 4×11 of fear?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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lightoftruth · 4 years ago

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You are special. Perhaps you’ve heard this from a parent, teacher, or member of your family. You received numerous compliments as the result of a special talent or accomplishment. Someone encouraged you because of your education and expertise. You were honored for a significant contribution. Or you grew up in a family where your grandmother reminded you of your “special” status every time you spent the night at her home (I can relate to this one)! Based on your background, personality, and life experience, you have a concept of what it means to be significant, and if you’re like many people, you base how special you are on talent, education, or accomplishment. In other words, you look to yourself and to others. You play the comparison game. You try to measure up. Newsletter SignupLatest AnswersStay up to date each week with top articles, blogs, news, videos, and more. SIGN UP NOW Unfortunately, many people aren’t measuring up. The self-help industry is a multi-billion dollar industry with thousands of books published each year. Suicide is one of the leading causes of death among teenagers and young adults. Euthanasia is legal in the Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxembourg, with assisted suicide now legalized in Switzerland and in the U.S. states of Washington, Oregon, Vermont, and Montana. Humanism is weaving its way into the fabric of culture and institutions of higher learning. Many scholars believe and teach that human beings are no different than animals or plants. On this basis, human life is viewed in some circles as disposable, insignificant, or meaningless. Consider the teaching of Julian Huxley, a famous humanist, who writes, I use the word “humanist” to mean someone who believes that man is just as much a natural phenomenon as an animal or a plant; that his body, mind, and soul were not supernaturally created, but are products of evolution, and that he is not under the control or guidance of any supernatural being or beings, but has to rely on himself and his own power.1Joseph Krutch, an American author, critic, and naturalist, says, “There is no reason to suppose that man’s own life has any more meaning than the life of the humblest insect that crawls from one annihilation to another.”2 Even the former Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, Oliver Wendell Holmes, states, “I see no reason for attributing to man a significance different in kind from that which belongs to a baboon or a grain of sand.”3 Former Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes: “I see no reason for attributing to man a significance different in kind from that which belongs to a baboon or a grain of sand.”No wonder so many people struggle with identity and significance. If humans are no different than animals, plants, or grains of sand, one could argue that we aren’t so special after all. The Image of God EstablishedThankfully, the Bible presents a very different picture of humanity. You are special, but not primarily as the result of your talents, accomplishments, education, or upbringing. Your significance is not tied to how you measure yourself, how you compare with others, or how others view you; rather, your significance is tied to how your Creator views you. And here’s the good news: your Creator views you as special . . . significant . . . unique. Human beings are special in the eyes of God because we are unique in the order of creation. You see, when God created the heavens and the earth, He also created every creature after its own kind (Genesis 1:20–25). He created sea creatures, crawling creatures, birds, livestock, and wildlife, pronouncing that such animals were “good” (Genesis 1:25). But when God created mankind, He said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them (Genesis 1:26–27).God created human beings in His image and likeness. These words are used interchangeably in the Book of Genesis, but only when referring to mankind (Genesis 1:26, 5:1, 9:26). No animal or plant is made in God’s image or likeness. For this reason, human beings should be viewed as the crowning jewel of God’s creative activity. After God made man, He looked over His creation and declared everything “very good” (Genesis 1:31). A Unique DignityAccording to Genesis 1:26–30, mankind has a unique dignity. Moreover, Genesis 5:1 states, “In the day that God created man, He made him in the likeness of God.” Human beings have a special dignity because men and women are God’s image-bearers. This does not mean we reflect the physical appearance of God, because God is spirit and not represented in a human form (John 4:24). Rather, bearing God’s likeness points to the spiritual, not the physical. To be created in the divine image includes having an interpersonal relationship with God. Anthony Hoekema says, In this way human beings reflect God, who exists not as a solitary being but as a being in fellowship — a fellowship that is described at a later stage of divine revelation as that between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.4People can know God, love God, and worship God. We can also think, reason, and choose between right and wrong. We have the capacity to look at the world and deduce that everything has a Creator (Romans 1:19–20). The image of God is the defining mark of humanity that sets us apart from animals, plants, and grains of sand. You can teach an animal tricks, but only man can learn truth. You can make an animal work, but it is man who can worship. Animals can see the sun, but man can glorify God for the beauty of a sunset. Mankind has a unique dignity that is seen primarily in the spiritual ability to fellowship with God and others. Both animals and man were created material and immaterial,5 but only man was created with a spiritual component as well.6 Human beings are special because we have a unique dignity that enables us to have a relationship with God. A Unique DominionNot only does mankind have a special dignity; we also have a unique dominion. God created human beings to rule over the fish, birds, cattle, and everything that creeps on the earth (Genesis 1:26). Moreover, God commanded the first man and woman to exercise dominion over every living creature on the planet: Then God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it; have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves on the earth.” And God said, “See, I have given you every herb that yields seed which is on the face of all the earth, and every tree whose fruit yields seed; to you it shall be for food. Also, to every beast of the earth, to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, in which there is life, I have given every green herb for food”; and it was so (Genesis 1:28–30).Mankind is the lord of creation who represents the ultimate Lord in a formal sense. He is God’s caretaker on the earth and is expected to maintain order and unity. God provides fruit and vegetation for both man and animals to eat, but man alone is charged with the responsibility to “subdue” and “have dominion over” the created order.7 Human beings are commanded to rule the earth for God and to develop a culture that glorifies the Creator. Many years after our first parents were created and commanded to exercise this unique dominion, King David reflected upon mankind’s role in the world. He wrote, When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit him? For You have made him a little lower than the angels, and You have crowned him with glory and honor. You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands; You have put all things under his feet, all sheep and oxen — even the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea that pass through the paths of the seas (Psalm 8:3–8).David is overwhelmed by God’s grace and kindness toward humanity. As he surveys the mysteries of the heavens, the moon and the stars, and the existence of angels, he is amazed that God created man with glory and charged him with the responsibility of caring for the created order. David understood that human beings possess a unique dignity and dominion that set us apart from all other created beings. The Image of God TarnishedThe image of God in mankind enables us to fellowship with our Creator and to exercise dominion over the earth. Sounds like a solid game plan, doesn’t it? When you read the second chapter of Genesis, everything is certainly going according to plan. Initially, our first parents experienced unbroken communion with God and a peaceful relationship with each other (Genesis 2:21–25). Death was not a part of the world. The first man and woman did not experience distrust or disappointment. The question is, what happened? The image of God in mankind enables us to fellowship with our Creator and to exercise dominion over the earth. Sounds like a solid game plan, doesn’t it?...The question is, what happened?Sin happened. The first man and woman (Adam and Eve) disobeyed God and rebelled against His will for their lives. God told them to eat from any tree on the earth with the exception of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Genesis 2:16–17 says, “And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, ‘Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.’ ” Satan, a fallen angel who rejected God and His sovereign reign over the universe (Isaiah 14:12–14; Ezekiel 28:12–18; Luke 10:18), tempted the woman through the use of a serpent.8 Adam and Eve yielded to the temptation and sinned by eating, and forever changed the course of human history: Then the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that in the day you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree desirable to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate. She also gave to her husband with her, and he ate (Genesis 3:4–6).The rebellion of Adam and Eve plunged humanity into a sinful state where death, pain, and suffering entered the world. Moreover, the image of God in man was tarnished and broken from that point forward. Human beings now search for significance in themselves and their accomplishments instead of finding significance in the Creator whose image we bear. We remain rational, spiritual beings, but our rationality and spirituality no longer impart a true knowledge of God. We are still relational people who possess the capacity to fellowship with God and others, but the outworking of our relationships no longer reflects the relationship between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In other words, mankind continues to reflect a unique dignity as God’s image-bearers that no other creature enjoys, but the dignity is damaged significantly by the consequences of sin. Similarly, human beings continue to exercise dominion over the earth, but in many ways are selfish dictators who rule over nature for selfish gain, working against the will of God in the world. The Image of God RestoredThe image of God in man was tarnished, but not beyond repair. God the Father, in His infinite mercy and grace, reached out to Adam and Eve in the midst of their rejection and rebellion. Adam and Eve experienced consequences for their sin, but God also issued a promise of hope and restoration: So the Lord God said to the serpent: “Because you have done this, you are cursed more than all cattle, and more than every beast of the field; on your belly you shall go, and you shall eat dust all the days of your life. And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her Seed; He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel” (Genesis 3:14–15).God promised to send a man who will conquer Satan and put an end to the reign of sin and death. According to this first of many prophetic statements in Genesis 3, God will send a deliverer who will save His people from their sins; He will send a healer who is able to restore the image of God in mankind. Christ the Image of GodThe New Testament makes it clear that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the promised seed of the woman who dealt a fatal blow to death through His crucifixion and Resurrection. Satan bruised Jesus on the Cross, but Jesus crushed Satan’s head when He rose from the dead (Genesis 3:15; Colossians 2:13–15). As a result, salvation from sin and death is found in Christ alone through faith alone (Ephesians 2:8–9). Moreover, the image of God is redefined in terms of Christ Himself as the true image. For example, Christ is called the image of God in three New Testament passages: But even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, whose minds the god of this age has blinded, who do not believe, lest the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine on them (2 Corinthians 4:3–4, emphasis added). He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by Him all things were created that are in heaven and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers. All things were created through Him and for Him (Colossians 1:15–16, emphasis added). God, who at various times and in various ways spoke in time past to the fathers by the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us by His Son, whom He has appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the worlds; who being the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person, and upholding all things by the word of His power, when He had by Himself purged our sins, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high (Hebrews 1:1–3, emphasis added). Jesus is the true image of God. He is equally God and not a mere copy of the original. He is the original image. The Apostle Paul says, “For it pleased the Father that in Him all the fullness should dwell” (Colossians 1:19). Jesus shows us the glory of God (John 1:14), and when He comes again in His glorified humanity, He will be manifested directly as the true image of God. The Apostle John states, “Beloved, now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is” (1 John 3:2). The Image of Christ Restored in UsThe image of God in man needs restoration and renewal. In order for the image of God to be restored, however, we must look to Christ for salvation and sanctification. The Apostle Paul says, “Do not lie to one another, since you have put off the old man with his deeds, and have put on the new man who is renewed in knowledge according to the image of Him who created him” (Colossians 3:9-10). He also writes, “For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren” (Romans 8:29). We must pursue Christ and His image, knowing that we will be like Him in the new creation: And as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly Man (1 Corinthians 15:49). But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord (2 Corinthians 3:18). Jesus Christ is our only hope for restoration. Without saving faith in the life, death, Resurrection, and return of Jesus, the image of God in us will remain tarnished by our sin and rebellion. We will continue to search for significance in ourselves, but we will never find it there, because our significance is ultimately tied to the image of God within us. ConclusionSo, you really are special — not because of what you do, but because of who God created you to be. You are more than a plant, an animal, or a grain of sand. God created you in His image! Furthermore, despite your sin and rebellion that leads to the tarnishing of His image, God sent His Son to die for your sin, in your place, as a righteous substitute who satisfied the demands of the holy Judge. Three days later, God raised His Son from the dead, ensuring salvation and eternal life for all who believe in Him. Jesus Christ is the true image of God; therefore, when you submit your Life to Jesus, God works through the power of His Holy Spirit to restore His broken image in you. And I can’t think of anything more special than that.

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stargleeksil-blog · 7 years ago

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Criminal Minds s04e02 Angel Maker review - or more aptly named, oh my god this is amazing yet gross at the same time. Why do this to me?

Episode 02 – Angel Maker

Hey guys! So I’m still reeling from that first episode. Oh my goodness gracious. That was a definite showstopper. But, I’m over it, I hope it’s going to be fine. I hope for a little breather, and that this one will be a little funnier. But let’s see what happens. Okay?

Let’s get it started.

Creepy music isn’t instilling me with much confidence, you know.

A young cat lady? Oh honey.

Oh boy. Someone else is walking in the house.

Oh boy.

Why is that creeper hiding in her closet till the morning to kill her? What the fuck?

And why a hammer?

“You’re experiencing hyperacusis. It’s caused by sudden loud noises, like an explosion.” REALLY?

(that’s sarcasm) – hyper sounds loud.

Wait. So the doctor wants to take him off the field? Oh boy.

I mean, I get it, and I want him to get better, but poor baby, he can’t sit still forever. He hated being a prosecutor.

“W-what if I said I’d … take it easy and … limit my role in the field?”

So cute! He’s like, I need to get back to work.

Wait. He’s so damaged in the ear he can’t hear his phone ringing? Oh, baby.

Wait. That fucker raped and hammered her to death? Ugh.

JJ: “Lower Canaan, Ohio.”

Emily: “Lower where?”

Ha! I love you, Emily. I have no fucking idea where that is either.

“Ritual. Nice hair, by the way.”

Hey! Leave my poodle’s mane!

Wait what? It’s the same victimology of a serial killer who was executed? Makes no sense.

Oh. A copycat honoring the anniversary of his hero’s death. Ew.

I’m sorry, Reid saying ‘semen’ is like hearing me talking in Japanese – unnatural.

Hold up, the jizz they found in the girl is matching to the DNA of the Angel Maker? WHAT?

Oh boy.

Chuck Palahniuk: “We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.” AMAZING

“They have parachutes on board, right?”

“They should. It’s standard on all federal air transport.”

“Maybe we can give one to the elephant in the room, get him out of here?”

OH MY GOD! ROSSI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I JUST DIED! SOMEBODY GIVE THOSE WRITERS A GOLD STAR!

“That’d be the elephant with the dead man’s DNA.”

“Well, obviously somebody planted the semen on the victim.”

Derek: “In the victim.”

“Reid, you’re not seriously floating around the idea of an evil twin, are you?”

WHAT?

“No, I’m not. I’m floating the idea of an eviler twin.” DOES HE NOT UNDERSTAND SARCASM?

Oh my god, I’m dying right now.

“Traditionally, the concept is a good twin and an evil twin. But in this case, it’s evil twin and eviler twin.”

Oh god, I love my pure angel.

Why would the puncture wounds seem familiar to Emily? Weird.

That’s a pretty prison.

“Real lady killer.”

REALLY? Did that guard just make that lame ass joke? Oh god.

“The type of DNA that cats in lockup don’t have occasion to use.”

Wow. That’s some strong language there, Derek!

Can I ask? Why does he speak to everyone normally on the phone, but when he talks to Garcia, it’s to the hearing piece? Is he that desperate for her voice? I don’t get it.

Wait. There are rumors about the execution being sloppy? Oh boy.

Wait. They’re digging up the angel maker to prove he’s dead to get the townies off their backs? That’s wrong. Listen to the FBI.

Okay, so I’m naturally extremely sensitive to loud noises, like the buzzing in Hotch’s ear, so can they NOT do that please? UGH

So that’s an empty coffin. And it’s not a good sign.

Oh boy.

Oh god, Shemar is sitting on a desk. Why do I find that hot?

“What does that mean, doctor?” God, no one should sound that hot. Fuck. No really, if you check out my lady parts, you’ll see them all aflutter.

Wait. So they killed him with drugs, and yet he was still alive? Oh boy.

Wait. When they killed Cortland he said he’d come back right before they attempted to execute him? Oh boy.

“Did you know that John Wayne Gracie painted clowns? A murdering pedophile paints clowns, and people hand them on their walls. It’s creepy on so many levels. I mean, clowns –”

“Garcia, I didn’t know you had that hang-up.”

Aw, Derek is learning stuff about baby girl.

“Coulrophobia – abnormal fear of clowns.” Good to know, female Reid XD

“Oh, no, there is nothing abnormal about it. When I was twelve, a hobo clown groped my breast at a birthday party and made this old-timey honkey noise when he did it. Apparently making it funny makes it okay.”

YOU ARE ONE AMAZING GIRL! AND I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND THE FEAR OF CLOWNS! THEY CREEP ME OUT TOO! (never seen one in this country, but still).

Derek’s face is like, who the fuck touched my baby girl’s boobs? Only I am allowed! Who is this clown and how can I kill him?

“Oh, my vision, I found a ton.”

That’s sad. Angel Maker memorabilia. Ew.

“He also made these little origami figurines out of cigarette boxes, which, I hate to say, are really cute.”

Oh honey.

“Shebang!”

Wait. The guard sells his crap? Oh boy.

“Wakey, wakey, my man.”

Well, Sid’s dead. Shit.

“One to the grill, one to the groin. That’s personal.”

Damn straight.

“Strikes me as an Aqua Velva guy.”

Bam. Nailed it. That’s his cologne.

Ha!

What’s in the pill box?

Wait. It’s a woman now? Oh boy.

Wait. Rutledge blackmailed the unsub? OH BOY!

“We now know that Rutledge was transferred to Hawkesville from a female prison, in the wake of allegations that he was using his position to leverage sexual favors from inmates.”

Oh boy.

“That and the fact that he took a PDE-5 inhibitor shortly before his murder.”

“A what?”

“Viagra.”

Oh damn.

Are they allowed to say that on CBS? Hahahaha oh my god.

“Hybristophilia. It’s a sexual attraction to men who commit violent crimes.”

I’m sorry, but Derek talking about sexual attraction is seriously sexy and he can’t talk about unhealthy attraction and look sexy at the same time because it ruins the whole point.

“She’s using an instrument to simulate the sexual assault …” did they actually say she was using toys on the victim? OH BOY!

“Hey, you ever get groupies at your book singing?” “Sometimes, if Barry Manilow isn’t in town.”

I love you, Rossi.

“Waits an average of three hours for a ten-minute visit, mandatory strip search. Would you endure that for a guy?”

“For Barry Manilow, maybe.”

OH MY GOD EMILY!

Wait. This lady professed she was the fucker’s lover? Oh boy.

“Last time I checked, they didn’t allow conjugal visits on death row.”

True.

Wait. So the lady then stopped loving him because she got a letter addressed to a different woman, but it was written in a different dialect, how can it be from him, then? It makes no sense.

Oh god. Another victim.

She killed a day-care lady? THAT IS CRUEL!

Wait. The puncture wounds mean something? Oh boy.

The letters to ‘dove’ were a code? Oh boy.

I love you, Reid.

“What do you need to crack it?” “The ability to clone myself and a year’s supply of Adderall.”

“I’ll put on the coffee.”

Oh my god, that was genius.

“So they both had home-based businesses. A stranger could walk in off the street and be a prospective customer.” Oh god.

SHIT. The puncture wounds represent constellations. Damn.

“Delphinus, the dolphin; Equuleus, the little horse. Anything sound familiar?”

“His origami things.”

Oh boy.

Shit. One more kill to complete the set. Shit.

“They weren’t just close. They were in love.”

Gross.

“How’d you crack it?”

“I profiled the author. Cortland Ryan was on death row with several high-ranking members of the Aryan brotherhood.”

“He got the code from the Aryans?”

“Either that or he read a lot of 16th-century literature.”

Wait. “The Aryans liked to use a cipher based on a 400-year old code written by Sir Francis Bacon.” Oh god.

“Normally you’d use a computer to run all these combinations, but it was quicker to just to do it longhand until I found the right one.” WHAT?

“He’s so lifelike.” OH MY GOD! EMILY!

Seriously, those letters were so romantic, if it weren’t for the horrible fact that he fucking killed people and she continued his ‘mission’ after death.

JJ’s right. Reid confirmed, “Well, she did say ‘us’ – watch over us from the stars.”

Wait. The victim survived? Because she screamed? GOOD FOR YOU LADY!

Wait. So Shara did the whole thing, trying to get pregnant with the wacko’s kid? EW!

“So if you want me to find baby angel maker, we’re gonna have to narrow it down.” I love you Garcia.

“Ten months, actually.”

“Really?”

No wait. Hold up. Seriously? I didn’t know that a woman was pregnant ten months. Wait. Are they making this up? Hold on. Nope. They’re right. So why are we so convinced that it’s always nine months? MOM! HAVE YOU BEEN LYING TO ME????

HAS MY SCHOOL SEX ED CLASS IN THE SIXTH GRADE BEEN LYING TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME?

“We’ll do single mothers only, in case she wanted to keep the father a secret, you know, didn’t want to brag: ‘oh, your baby daddy’s a third-grade teacher? Well, mine likes to poke people in the stomach with tools, so there.’” LOL

So gross, yet so awesome

Wait. Why is the name familiar to my poodle?

Damn. She was on the jury. So she knew the case. Fuck.

Shit. Her baby died in the hospital, she wanted a baby so bad, and she fell in love with the fucker so deeply that she was willing to continue his legacy and let her new baby know who his daddy was? FUCK.

“Completing the murders was the only way she could hold on to him.”

I’m with you, baby, that’s gross. She stole the body from the grave. Fuck.

“Meetings with Delilah Grennan and Maxine Chandler the day of each murder.” Oh boy.

Bam. found the next victim. Let’s hope we get her in time.

Shemar leaning over a car. Hot.

Sneaky, yummy Shemar.

Shit. She took a gun and is roaming the house and my baby is there, too. Fuck.

Wendell Berry: “The past is our definition. we may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it.” Sounds weird. Then again, I’m pretty sure I’m high on caffeine. Which is weird.

“Morgan doesn’t like to follow directions. You didn’t know about that?”

“Yeah he likes to vibe it.”

What does that even mean?

“Ok, smart ass, you drive.”

Emily: “Oh, great.”

I love this cast so fucking much!

And Morgan said ‘ass’.

Okay, so this episode was creepy in so many ways, but we had more fun between my superheroes which was amazing beyond belief! I’m so happy they put everything in one episode and also addressed what happened to Hotch and didn’t just glance over it.

I’m not gonna elaborate too much, seeing as this is already heavy on the verbosity and I’m planning on adding tons of pictures of Shemar, Kirsten and Matthew anyway. So I’ll see you all for the next episode, and thank you again, for taking the time to actually see what I have in my filthy mind.

Love you all!

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mrsrensecondary · 7 years ago

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Unsteady Chapter one, Part One

Eighth year. She rolled the words around in her head, trying to repeat them until they were real, concrete, set in stone. The last year had been anything but predictable as they fought their way through the war.

The only way out had been through.

She had told herself this during the war, during the terrifying night with Bellatrix Lestrange, and during the Battle of Hogwarts. But she hadn’t expected to continue to repeat the secret mantra in the present tense after the war. From the moment McGonagall’s letter came, she knew she was returning home.

Home had become tents with Harry as Ron left in his fit of insecurity. It was running for their lives, but at least her best friends with her. At the end of the generic acceptance letter, McGonagall had written: Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you home. Her heart surged when the boys decided to return alongside her. “Auror training will still be available next year, Hermione.” Harry told her in the lazy sunlight of The Burrow’s kitchen.

Ron, however, did not agree but he came anyways. For the wrong reasons, she told herself, but perhaps they could move past the elephant in the room.

Their new headmistress had owled her several times for two weeks, asking if she was sure she could return and accept the Head Girl position. Hermione Granger had not been herself since the end. If anything, she needed the normalcy. She needed to be back inside the castle’s walls when they weren’t crumbling around her. She needed to find exactly who she was after the the war. It wasn’t who Ron fell in love with, he told her in that blasted fit of anger that tore straight through her defenses. Those hadn’t been built for him.

She told him to leave again then. That she wouldn’t hold him back from what he wanted in life, and she’d still support him. She wished she could just bloody forget Harry breaking up their fight. In seven years, she’d never expected such an outburst from Ron. It was all about her sixth year, and the end of fifth. How she’d gotten drunk at a party and had too much fun.

Hermione apparated on the spot to The Leaky Cauldron, paying for a room until the first day of the term. If she could have, she’d have returned to her childhood home. In that lied the other problem: Wendell and Monica Wilkins still didn’t remember their lone daughter.

The scarlet Hogwarts Express made her sigh in relief. Finally. A month inside The Leaky Cauldron would drive anyone crazy. There was only so much to discover in Diagon Alley, which led to her weaving her way through Knockturn and drinking herself halfway

to oblivion the night before. The bartender didn’t like her in his bar, but charged her double and let her stay.

“Hermione!” Ginny enveloped her in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you.” Hermione smiled despite the fact that the sun was about to split her head open. “The last month with Mum as the only girl in the house was unbearable.” Mrs. Weasley sent her daughter a look as she looked over Harry and Ron. “Have you talked to anyone since you left?”

“No, I didn’t feel like being friendly.” She let go of the handle of her trunk. “I needed the time to myself, you know? After that fight with Ron, I was thinking too much.”

“We saw you in The Daily Prophet stumbling out of Knockturn Alley, What were you thinking?” Ginny’s eyes were sad. She could have owled her friend at any point. No doubt Mrs. Weasley would have rushed her daughter to apparate.

“I was thinking that even when they charge me double, the fire whiskey is still cheap.” Ginny gave a short laugh.

“Have you spoken to Theo? Or Blaise and Pansy?” Hermione shook her head. “Do you have any idea how many letters they sent me?” She jabbed one finger into the other girl’s chest. “Ron was throwing the biggest tantrum, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m aware. At some point all of them have shown up at my door. Ron was the worst.”

“I didn’t know he came looking for you.”

“Oh, yes. First he groveled at my door and then when I didn’t answer he called me a whore. And told me how none of this wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t being a prude.” Ginny clenched her fists at her side. “Don’t. He’s your brother.”

“The fact that his last name is Weasley gives me even more of a right to beat him to a bloody pulp. I’ll bet I can swing my trunk at him.” Hermione laughs, the first genuine laugh in Godric knows how long.

“Don’t, Ginny. It’s not going to solve anything and I’m sure you’ve used violence since I’ve been gone.”

“Malfoy looks awful.” She gasps and Hermione whips her head around.

There on the platform he is standing with his mother, looking like she did when she stumbled out of the pub. Narcissa waves to her with a smile. She forces a smile, but waves back. “He looks how I feel.” Hermione whispers.

“He went to trial, and at the end-I’m sure he’s got a lot in common with you right now. Has he talked to you since he was released?” She shook her head. A half lie, she admonished. He hadn’t reached out to her personally, rather they ran smack dab into each other in a pub last week and she fucking ran, mumbling a quick, “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I hope he’s alright.” She means it, but that’s just something everyone says. Draco Malfoy clearly was not okay and seeing him in Knockturn proved as much. Mr. Weasley waved the girls over, but Hermione couldn’t quite tear her eyes from Malfoy. He looked so much paler, and like sleep was eluding him just as well.

“It’s good to see you.” Arthur pulled her in for a hug. “Molly and I were worried when we saw that article.” Ron didn’t hide how he was staring.

“I’m sorry for worrying you both” She replied, wrapping her arms around him for a hug. “I’m feeling more like myself now that we’re returning to Hogwarts.”

“Time to go.” Molly ushers them to the platform.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Hermione says as Narcissa waves for her to come to her. “I’ll meet you on the train.” She says to Ginny alone, who nods.

“Write us when you can, dear. We’d love to hear from you.” Molly says. “Especially if you need anything.” She nods, knowing Molly had worried as her own mother would have.

“I promise.” She drags her trunk behind her quickly. The younger Malfoy glanced at her and then to his mother before boarding the train. “Mrs. Malfoy.” She greets.

“Would you please call me Narcissa, Miss Granger. I’d like to distance myself from Lucius’s infamy.”

Hermione sucked in a breath. That was not what she expected. “I can do that, if you wouldn’t mind calling me Hermione instead.” She gave her a warm smile. “Have you been well?”

“Not particularly, but I’m grateful my son and I have been safe.” She replies, her hands clasped in front of her. “I never properly thanked you for serving as a witness in his trial, Hermione.”

“There’s no need. I would have never left him. Not after, not after he saved my life. He didn’t deserve to be thrown into Azkaban. Malfoy did what he had to in order to survive.”

Narcissa smiled then, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Hermione’s ear. “I know he didn’t deserve to meet such a cruel punishment. Draco is punishing himself, as are you. He told me you were in a pub.”

“I was.” She admitted.

“He told me you ran away, and he thought you might have been afraid of him.”

“Afraid of him?” Hermione echoed. “I would never be afraid of him. I haven’t exactly been myself. I couldn’t let him see me like that. I couldn’t let anyone see me like that.” She said quickly.

“That’s what I told him, and I apologize for my presumptions. I rather wanted to hear you say it as well.” Hermione nods. “If it comes up, please tell him you weren’t scared of him. He will never admit this, but I’m certain he feels saving you from Lucius is the only thing he did right in that war.”

“If it comes up, I promise.” Hermione knew she would be the one to bring it up. “As fellow Heads’, we can hardly avoid each other forever.”

“Have a good term, Hermione.”

“Have a good year, Narcissa.” She says quietly. “Thank you for telling me.” The blonde woman was already gone with a distinct crack.

Hermione boarded the train, dragging her trunk down the hallway to the Heads’ compartment. She had passed the compartment that housed so many of her friends, and friend turned boyfriend turned ex boyfriend. Ron called her name, but the slamming of the door behind her answered that.

“Do you have to be so bloody loud?” Malfoy snapped. He was laying on his back on the bench. His legs were much too long. He’d drawn the curtains, immersing the room in the pitch black darkness.

“Still as infuriating as ever, aren’t you, Malfoy?”

“Granger?”

“Obviously. Lumos.” She laid her wand on the table, using the light to shove her trunk into the corner. She sat opposite of him. “Nox.”

“Afraid of the dark, Granger?” He asked, and she just knew that same cocky smirk was plastered on his face. She remained silent. “What did she talk to you about?”

“I’m sure you’d prefer to not know.” She replied. Fuck her Gryffindor bravery, she wasn’t about to bring up something he probably regretted telling his mother. “It’s nothing of importance, Malfoy.”

#dramione #fanfiction #draco malfoy #Hermione Granger #unsteady #by babyvelociraptor

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theliterateape · 5 years ago

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'90s Forever

By Erik Lewin

I had to spend a summer up at the University of Buffalo in the late ’90s. There was an awful course in statistics that stood between me and a Bachelor of Arts degree in English. Incredibly, an actual law school (not an online one with certificate) had accepted me for fall admission, but I couldn’t go without passing this class. Fortunately, I had a few college buddies up there, too, for their own reasons. My friend, Sean, was there with his girlfriend, Zara, and along with my girlfriend at the time, Janine, we all hung out quite a bit.

I was living in this little complex called Caesar’s Court, that rested on the outskirts of an unsafe neighborhood. There was a rash of criminal activity where off-campus students lived. It just wouldn’t be a complete college education without a brush with your own mortality; the year prior my friends and I got robbed at gunpoint in broad daylight in our parked car before buying our books for the semester. These two twelve-year–old hoods looked more like Kris Kross than crooks, but they stuck a gun in our car, and we handed over our book money.

In a way, they did me a favor; I was only going to waste all that perfectly good cash on course books I’d never open anyway. Who knows, maybe they took it to the bookstore themselves to load up on volumes of sociology and geology. It took the cops forever to make it to the scene, the assailants long gone on dirt bikes. I don’t think they were ever found. The upshot was the weed dealer we relied on was never busted either.

A local newspaper actually sent a reporter to interview my friend and I as the freshest victims of this large-scale collegiate crime wave, bribing us into the meeting with a free breakfast. When the story came out in the paper, as I recall, it painted us like two complete morons, too busy lighting cigarettes to disarm a couple misguided pre-teens.

So the general area was shady and dangerous, even in summer, and Caesar’s Court was scarcely a respite; it’s faux charm, with the hint of medieval flair, didn’t exactly scare away any fringe elements. Perhaps the difference was some tenants were rather likable criminals who made you feel like part of the team.

My neighbor was this forty-ish man named Randy. He was stringy but cut and strong with dark eyes set tight. He did, however, favor white tube socks pulled up to his shins, sandals, baggy shorts, and a permanently stained wife beater undershirt. He’d have friends over on a Tuesday at noon, pounding bottles of Boone’s wine, passing blunts, and bumping dirty south hip-hop through giant speakers.

For whatever reason, Randy took a shine to me. He’d be like, “Yeah boy, you dangerous,” as he fed me the Boone’s and switched up tracks in his empty living room. I loved him though, he was very gentle for a ruffian, and I was touched that he took me under his wing. He had bestowed his beaded necklace on me, and one afternoon when Sean picked me up for class, I looked like Mr. Wendell from the Arrested Development video, sporting the necklace and matching hat.

Randy would, however, hit me up for money and rides. How he could afford a unit at Caeser’s, even with Buffalo prices in the ’90s, was something of a mystery, though of course he had no furniture or visible belongings. Sean joked with me that Randy told him if he would take him to the store, he’d hook Sean up with a pair of sweet titties to squeeze at this late-night club he always talked about. Sean was dubious, but I assured him Randy could make good on his promise, as he’d already scrounged six-fifty in change from my car earlier that day.

That was the thing; whenever I took Randy anywhere, he’d clean my car of any loose currency, then direct me to some random, off-site location, where one person would be waiting in the shadows. Evidently, I was an accomplice to an untold number of transactions, though I fancied myself the strong link in the conspiracy, knowing I’d never crack under questioning. I guess I just wanted to be helpful, though in retrospect, I’m not sure his mentorship was altogether selfless.

He had bestowed his beaded necklace on me, and one afternoon when Sean picked me up for class, I looked like Mr. Wendell from the Arrested Development video.

My girlfriend, Janine, had a brand new sand-colored Saturn, a car that came with a bow-tie wrapped on top, and was easily the thrill of her life. One day she pulled up to my place with a flat tire, and I figured I could knock out two birds. I offered Randy the job, to which he eagerly agreed with an assurance of the highest quality work, and I enthusiastically presented the opportunity to Janine. She gave in because it’d be fast and just a few bucks, and moments later, Randy and three of his buddies set to dismantling Janine’s beauty. It didn’t turn out quite as I’d hoped. They had the whole car bouncing and suspension squeaking, as the metal tools clanged against the tire’s nuts. Janine and I watched this crackhead pit crew turn a simple tire change into a total car wreck. Her shrieks of horror still haunt me.

My other neighbor was a lovely sixty-ish African-American woman named Tonya. I’d sit on the berber rug in her living room while she regaled me with tales of her young life as a heroin addicted disco queen. She wore large ladies’ reading glasses and had soft, caring eyes. She’d mellowed in her old age and just enjoyed sharing her story and cooking delicious soul dishes, while we listened to Smokey Robinson records.

Sean was a thoughtful and funny fellow with whom I had lots in common. We were both boneheaded victims in the neighborhood, of sorts, though his was an inside job. The previous semester, his house had literally gone up in flames; his roommate was stoned and barbequing, a smashing combination, and naturally, he forgot he was barbequing.

Sean’s lovely girlfriend, Zara, was a tolerant person, especially since she had to escape a house as it burnt down. Sean and the boys were standing on their lawn in the early morning light, in robes, smoking butts and giving their bewildered remarks to live news cameras. In any event, tragic-comedy aside, Sean and I loved to smoke blunts and bump Biggie Smalls and ’90s hip-hop.

We also got into working out that summer, exploring creatine powder as our stimulant of choice for the gym. We’d get a jar at a vitamin store, casually pull into a Burger King parking lot and take turns scooping the powder into our mouths. It’s effect was like a triple espresso jolt; we still made it to the weight room, but they were plastering the walls, so on top of spooning creatine, we were also huffing paint. As a result, we put up too much weight for our little bodies, but in the end, I can’t disparage our unorthodox methods. I think we wound up in much better shape, and it certainly made exercise a hell of a lot more fun.

The problem was I needed to pass this stupid statistics course, the reason I was there in the first place, and there was no way that was going to happen. The other math course I needed to pass, some trig thing or other the year prior, was equally a disaster; I had a zero in the course strictly speaking, but convinced the poor geriatric teacher that I was experiencing a semester long panic attack. It was not entirely untrue, though I’m not proud of it, and he was merciful and let me squeak through.

Sean and the other guys tried to help me with statistics, but it was utterly hopeless. It was an alien language, out of Star Trek; I couldn’t grasp it with Spock’s help. To make matters worse, the teacher was a wacky lady who spent half of each class trashing this “jerk” she dated who had ruined her life, so without taking her medication, she was tough to bear.

But I was desperate, so I decided to try my hand at pre-law—I would attempt to negotiate with the teacher, whereby she would agree to hand me a glittering D minus, in exchange for, literally nothing. That’s all I had to offer. I was madly convinced she could be talked into it, purely out of the goodness of her heart. I figured it could be like an act of charity, like feeding the homeless.

She resolutely refused. I think it was partly on account of her man-hater state of mind, but I wasn’t going to go out with her, so I had very little leverage to work with. I went to the final exam like a convicted man, ready for the hangman’s noose, and the resignation that my summer escorting Randy around town had been for naught. In my mind I was already constructing a letter of apology to my law school, expecting to get the ax, and spitballing the plan B of a fine Caribbean legal education.

By some miracle, when the grades came out, some poor shmuck actually managed a lower score than me, which meant he must have forgotten his own name, and due to the curve, I was in fact a recipient of my treasured D minus. I jumped for joy! I was going to graduate!

I smoked a blunt with Randy to celebrate, his gigantic speakers bumping, and I’m still thankful to his degenerate pit crew who finally managed to fix Janine’s flat, albeit with the wrong tire. But that’s just details. In the end, we all came out winners.

#Memoir #college #The '90s #The 90s

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networkingdefinition · 5 years ago

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Sunflower Quotes

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Sunflowers aren’t better than violets.- Edna Ferber • Bring me then the plant that points to those bright Lucidites swirling up from the earth, and life itself exhaling that central breath! Bring me the sunflower crazed with the love of light. – Unknown • But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold. – Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. • Does she realize she looks like a sunflower, ready to rain sunlight on all who look down upon her? – Simone Elkeles • Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun’s noon-glory gaze; With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix’d on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven. – James Montgomery • Every friend is to the other a sun, and a sunflower also. He attracts and follows. – Jean Paul • Fame is the scentless sunflower, with gaudy crown of gold; But friendship is the rose, with sweets in every fold. – Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. • Flowers have an expression of countenance as much as men or animals. Some seem to smile; some have a sad expression; some are pensive and diffident; others are plain, honest and upright, like the broad faced sunflower and the hollyhock. – Henry Ward Beecher • For time and eternity there have been fathers like Nathan who simply can see no way to have a daughter but to own her like a plot of land. To work her, plow her under, rain down a dreadful poison upon her. Miraculously, it causes these girls to grow. They elongate on the pale slender stalks of their longing, like sunflowers with heavy heads. You can shield them with your body and soul, trying to absorb that awful rain, but they’ll still move toward him. Without cease they’ll bend to his light. – Barbara Kingsolver • From the animist point of view, humans belong in a sacred place because they themselves are sacred. Not sacred in a special way, not more sacred than anything else, but merely as sacred as anything else — as sacred as bison or salmon or crows or crickets or bears or sunflowers. – Daniel Quinn • Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners… Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking… and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. – Thornton Wilder • Hello, Harry!” she said. “Er — my name’s Barny,” said Harry, flummoxed. “Oh, have you changed that too?” she asked brightly. “How did you know — ?” “Oh, just your expression,” she said. Like her father, Luna was wearing bright yellow robes, which she had accessorized with a large sunflower in her hair. Once you got over the brightness of it all, the general effect was quite pleasant. At least there were no radishes dangling from her ears. – J. K. Rowling • Her smile put the sunflower to shame. – Jerry Spinelli • I am painting with the same enthusiasm as a Marseillaise eats bouillabaisse … I am painting big sunflowers. – Vincent Van Gogh • I am working with the enthusiasm of a man from Marseilles eating bouillabaisse, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to you because I am busy painting huge sunflowers. – Vincent Van Gogh • I believe there is something of the divine mystery in everything that exists. We can see it sparkle in a sunflower or a poppy. We sense more of the unfathomable mystery in a butterfly that flutters from a twig–or in a goldfish swimming in a bowl. But we are closest to God in our own soul. Only there can we become one with the greatest mystery of life. In truth, at very rare moments we can experience that we ourselves are that divine mystery. – Jostein Gaarder • I can’t feel bad about being who I am, just like the girl next to me can’t feel bad about being who she is. Because a rose can never be a sunflower, and a sunflower can never be a rose. – Miranda Kerr • I chose a sunflower because when darkness descends they close up to regenerate. But I really wish I’d never had the tattoo in the first place. Clean, clear skin is always better. – Halle Berry • I don’t think there’s anything on this planet that more trumpets life that the sunflower. For me that’s because of the reason behind its name. Not because it looks like the sun but because it follows the sun. During the course of the day, the head tracks the journey of the sun across the sky. A satellite dish for sunshine. Wherever light is, no matter how weak, these flowers will find it. And that’s such an admirable thing. And such a lesson in life. – Helen Mirren • I faced the gaudy sunflower on her canvas bag — it looked hand-painted and at last my eyes fell into hers. I said, ‘Thanks for the card.’ Her smile put the sunflower to shame. She walked off. – Jerry Spinelli • I think the worst lie I ever told was, because my last name is Goth, I used to tell kids at school that I used to be related to ‘Van Gogh’ and when I turned 18, I would inherit all the fortune from the sunflower painting. – Mia Goth • I thought maybe I could become like the next Van Gogh. I bought a sunflower and painted it, and it looked like the work of a 6-year-old. – Takeshi Kitano • I want to be like a sunflower; so that even on the darkest days I will stand tall and find the sunlight. – Unknown • I want to die at a hundred years old with an American flag on my back and the star of Texas on my helmet, after screaming down an Alpine descent on a bicycle at 75 miles per hour. I want to cross one last finish line as my wife and my ten children applaud, and then I want to lie down in a field of those famous French sunflowers and gracefully expire, the perfect contradiction to my once anticipated poignant early demise. – Lance Armstrong • I want to encourage women to embrace their own uniqueness. Because just like a rose is beautiful, so is a sunflower, so is a peony. I mean, all flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that’s like women too. – Miranda Kerr • I would much rather end up a fertiliser under a sunflower which is eventually made into sunflower seed oil so that instead of nibbling me in her prawn cocktail, the pretty girl will rub me on her bristols as she suns herself on a beach in the Caribbean. – Oliver Reed • If I were a flower.. I would be a sunflower. To always follow the sun, Turn my back to darkness, Stand proud, tall and straight even with my head full of seeds. – Unknown • I’m now painting with all the elan of a Marseillais eating soup, which won’t surprise you when I tell you I’m painting large sunflowers. The idea? To decorate the studio, now there’s hope of Gauguin living here. I aim at a dozen panels of sunflowers in the room I’ve set aside for Gauguin. – Vincent Van Gogh • I’m thinking waiters and waitresses are going to be bracing for more customers coming in going, not just kind of where is that beef from, but, like, where is that vanilla from and what’s up with that sunflower oil? Is it organic or not and how many pesticides? – Michael Moss • In April, we cannot see sunflowers in France, so we might say the sunflowers do not exist. But the local farmers have already planted thousands of seeds, and when they look at the bare hills, they may be able to see the sunflowers already. The sunflowers are there. They lack only the conditions of sun, heat, rain and July. Just because we cannot see them does not mean that they do not exist. – Nhat Hanh • In the morning the sunflower blossoms due to the sun’s rays. This morning I just wanted to remind you that my heart blossoms with love for you everyday I wake up and it is going to do that forever. – Sheila Carey • In your hands The dog, the donkey, surely they know They are alive. Who would argue otherwise? But now, after years of consideration, I am getting beyond that. What about the sunflowers? What about The tulips, and the pines? Listen, all you have to do is start and There’ll be no stopping. What about mountains? What about water Slipping over rocks? And speaking of stones, what about The little ones you can Hold in your hands, their heartbeats So secret, so hidden it may take years Before, finally, you hear them? – Mary Oliver • It is not while beauty And youth are thine own And thy cheeks Unprofaned by a tear That the ferver and faith Of a soul can be known To which time will but Make thee more dear No the heart that has truly loved Never forgets But as truly loves On to the close As the sunflower turns On her god when he sets The same look which She’d turned when he rose. – Thomas Moore • Light-enchanted sunflower, thou Who gazest ever true and tender On the sun’s revolving splendour. – Pedro Calderon de la Barca • London life was very full and exciting […] But in London there would be no greenhouse with a glossy tank, and no apple-room, and no potting-shed, earthy and warm, with bunches of poppy heads hanging from the ceiling, and sunflower seeds in a wooden box, and bulbs in thick paper bags, and hanks of tarred string, and lavender drying on a tea-tray. – Sylvia Townsend Warner • Make it like a sunflower. – Steve Jobs • Man would not be man if his dreams did not exceed his grasp… If I remember the sunflower forest it is because from its hidden reaches man arose. The green world is his sacred center. In moments of sanity he must still seek refuge there. – Loren Eiseley • My will broke at the sound of his voice, and my head turned with as much inevitability as a sunflower turning its face to the sun. – Patricia Briggs • My work is the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird – equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums. – Mary Oliver • Never look directly at the sun. Instead, look at the sunflower. – Vera Nazarian • Not only does a lens distort forms, but the ordinary plate makes an unholy mess of colour in its tone relations. Yellow becomes black, and blue white. Black sunflowers against a white sky – what a travesty! – Walter J. Phillips • One of the remarkable characteristics of young wild sunflowers, in addition to growing in soil that is not hospitable, is how the young flower bud follows the sun across the sky. In doing so, it receives life-sustaining energy before bursting forth in its glorious yellow color. Like the young sunflower, when we follow the Savior of the world, the Son of God, we flourish and become glorious despite the many terrible circumstances that surround us. He truly is our light and life. – Quentin L. Cook • Pick up a sunflower and count the florets running into its centre, or count the spiral scales of a pine cone or a pineapple, running from its bottom up its sides to the top, and you will find an extraordinary truth: recurring numbers, ratios and proportions. – Charles Jencks • Ranger picked up and there was a moment of silence as if he was sensing me at the other end, taking my body temperature and heart rate long distance. “Babe,” he finally said. “Do you know the slum apartment building Bobby Sunflower owns on Stark?” “Yes. It’s on the same block as his funeral home.” “That’s the one. I’m going in to look for someone. If you don’t hear from me in a half hour maybe you could send someone to check.” “Is this a smart thing to do?” “Probably not.” “As long as you know,” Ranger said. And he disconnected. – Janet Evanovich • Restless sunflower; cease to move. – Pedro Calderon de la Barca • Someone was sitting in front of a sunflower, watching the sunflower, a cup of sun, and so I tried it too. It was wonderful; I felt the whole universe in the sunflower. That was my experience. Sunflower meditation. A wonderful confidence appeared. You can see the whole universe in a flower. – Shunryu Suzuki • Space for the sunflower, bright with yellow glow, To court the sky. – Unknown • Sunflowers are like people to me. – Joan Mitchell • The American Indian is of the soil, whether it be the region of forests, plains, pueblos, or mesas. He fits into the landscape, for the hand that fashioned the continent also fashioned the man for his surroundings. He once grew as naturally as the wild sunflowers, he belongs just as the buffalo belonged. – Luther Standing Bear • The author O. Henry taught me about the value of the unexpected. He once wrote about the noise of flowers and the smell of birds—the birds were chickens and the flowers dried sunflowers rattling against a wall. – Chuck Jones • The cops drive by to do some more good deeds A young black male spits a sunflower seed in the air. – Dred Scott • The earth paints a portrait of the sun at dawn with sunflowers in bloom. Unhappy with the portrait, she erases it and paints it again and again. – Rabindranath Tagore • The morning glories and the sunflowers turn naturally toward the light, but we have to be taught, it seems. – Richard Rohr • The road to freedom is bordered with sunflowers. – Martin Firrell • The splendor of a human heart that trusts it is loved unconditionally gives God more pleasure than Westminster Cathedral, the Sistine Chapel, Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony”, Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers”, the sight of 10,000 butterflies in flight, or the scent of a million orchids in bloom. Trust is our gift back to God, and he finds it so enchanting that Jesus died for love of it. – Brennan Manning • The sunflower is a favorite emblem of constancy – Thomas Bulfinch • The sunflower is mine, in a way. – Vincent Van Gogh • The Sunflow’r, thinking ’twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t’ excuse the blame; It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head. – Abraham Cowley • The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow; But on the hills the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the first from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland glade and glen. – William C. Bryant • There are not too many fables about man’s misuse of sunflower seeds. – Richard Brautigan • There is no friend like the old friend, who has shared our morning days, No greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise: Fame is the scentless sunflower, with gaudy crown of gold; But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold. – Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. • There was the gaudy patch of sunflowers beside the west gate of the palace of the Prince of Ombria, that did nothing all day long but turn their golden-haired, thousand-eyed faces to follow the sun. – Patricia A. McKillip • True friends are like bright sunflowers that never fade away, even over distance and time – Unknown • Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then! – Allen Ginsberg • Waves of hands, hesitations at street corners, someone dropping a cigarette into the gutter-all are stories. But which is the true story? That I do not know. Hence I keep my phrases hung like clothes in a cupboard, waiting for some one to wear them. Thus waiting, thus speculating, making this note and then an• other I do not cling to life. I shall be brushed like a bee from a sunflower. My philosophy, always accumulating, welling up moment by moment, runs like quicksilver a dozen ways at once. – Virginia Woolf • We are so impressed by scientific clank that we feel we ought not to say that the sunflower turns because it knows where the sun is. It is almost second nature to us to prefer explanations . . . with a large vocabulary. We are much more comfortable when we are assured that the sunflower turns because it is heliotropic. The trouble with that kind of talk is that it tempts us to think that we know what the sunflower is up to. But we don’t. The sunflower is a mystery, just as every single thing in the universe is. – Robert Farrar Capon • We’re all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we’re all blessed by our own seed & golden hairy naked accomplishment (Sunflower Sutra) – Allen Ginsberg • we’re all golden sunflowers inside. – Allen Ginsberg • We’re not our skin of grime, we’re not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we’re all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we’re blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision. – Allen Ginsberg • We’ve left the moment. It’s gone. We’re somewhere else now, and that’s okay. We’ve still got that moment with us somewhere, deep in our memory, seeping into our DNA. And when our cells get scattered , whenever that happens, this moment will still exist in them. Those cells might be the biulding block of something new. A planet or star or a sunflower, a baby. Maybe even a cockroach. Who knows? Whatever it is, it’ll be a part of us, this thing right here and now, and we’ll be a part of it. – Libba Bray • When van Gogh paints sunflowers, he reveals, or achieves, the vivid relation between himself, as man, and the sunflower, as sunflower, at that quick moment of time. His painting does not represent the sunflower itself. We shall never know what the sunflower itself is. And the camera will visualize the sunflower far more perfectly than van Gogh can. – D. H. Lawrence • Which way will the sunflower turn surrounded by millions of suns? – Allen Ginsberg • Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers. – Joe Hill [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

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equitiesstocks · 5 years ago

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Sunflower Quotes

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