#got defensive of the west for a minute

[adascore]

Hello! Not sure if you’re taking requests but would you consider doing an addition to TSS where young!arsenal reader was starting before Beth and Viv came back and has been benched majority of the time since (Kyra core☹️). Maybe during like the west ham game was one of the subs thrown on halfway through and after the loss made a snarky comment about “being thrown on to unfuck everything” type of thing to another teammate and Viv/beth overhear and think she’s talking about them (maybe they’re already a little insecure about losing such an “easy” game, self doubt post ACL) and things are super frosty and weird at home until one of them snaps and makes a comment about how they still wouldn’t have won even if R started. Hurt/comfort angst but with a happy ending!! Not sure if any of that strikes your fancy but I had the thought and you’re so talented:) no worries if not!!!

To Jump The Gun(ners)

pairings: arsenal x teen!reader / meadema x teen!reader / kyra cooney-cross x arsenal!reader

warnings: the west-ham match. swearing. angst. awkwardness.

author’s note: OMG LOVE THIS IDEA ! like this was right up my alley I felt like 😭 thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the story!

masterlist

February 4, 2024 - Essex, England

It had become a routine, seeing her name and number on the bench. She took a glance at Kyra, a knowing look in her eyes.

The young Arsenal homegrown wondered where it all had gotten wrong. Well, she knew the answer, but it wasn't exactly something she could say out loud to anyone.

She was transported back to the 2022/23 season, where she would warm the bench until either Vivianne or Beth were too tired or they needed to be rested for the next match.

Their injuries had changed everything.

Y/N not only became a regular starter, but became a vital part of their game. Her absence would be noticed.

She scored the goals that got them to the semifinals of the Champions League, keeping them level with 2x champions Wolfsburg.

However, Beth and Vivianne were back now. Alessia's arrival also didn't help much, the former Manchester United player having cemented herself into the starting line-up.

It also didn't help that Jonas was not a fan of rotating. Only in specific Conti Cup matches or against what he deemed 'weaker' teams in the league would he make changes to the usual starting XI.

In other words, she was back to step 1.

That's why it was hard to watch her teammates falling 2-1 behind against West Ham, with no one seeming to find an answer or any will to turn the game around. It was a painful spectacle.

In the 63rd minute, Jonas decided to throw herself, Kyra and Cloé in the match, and take out Vivianne, Victoria and Beth. It was a desperate attempt, and the three Gunners found themselves on the pitch, tasked with the challenging mission of trying to fix everything that had gone wrong so far.

Y/N and Cloé quickly created some chances but the West Ham defense or the swift reflexes of Mackenzie Arnold saw them go in vain.

The teenager could see the expressions of her teammates on the bench, visibly frustrated with how the match had unfolded since Alessia's successful header.

Vivianne couldn't hide the discontent in her eyes as she sat with a subtle shake of her head. Her partner, sitting beside her, noticed and Beth patted her thigh, offering silent support as they continued to watch their team scramble for a late equalizer.

As the final whistle blew, the disappointment within the team was high. Y/N did her usual post-match routine, and congratulated all the West Ham players on their win, while giving and receiving solace from her own teammates.

The teen found Kyra again, someone who she had found a friendship in over the months the Australian had joined the Gunners.

''You alright?'' The midfielder asked her, a dejected tone in her voice.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, you?''

''Not too great, but there are worse things in life.'' Kyra responded, trying to put the loss in perspective.

''True,'' the striker agreed, ''I can't believe he keeps putting us in these positions.''

Kyra nodded. ''You think he would learn after Tottenham.'' She sighed.

''Apparently, we're not good enough to start, but when he needs us to unfuck everything that happened, then he knows who we are.'' Y/N said, her frustration evident. The unfair treatment of some players during the season lingered in the air, leaving a bitter taste after the defeat.

As the youngsters continued their conversation on their way to the locker room, Vivianne and Beth, unintentionally overhearing their discussion, exchanged puzzled glances.

''Did you hear that? 'Unfuck everything'?'' Beth repeated her housemate's words to her partner.

Vivianne's brow furrowed as she processed what was said. ''Yeah,'' the Dutchwoman breathed out, ''not very nice.'' A hint of sadness lingered in her voice. It stung that their efforts were being discussed in such terms, especially by the young girl they were living with.

They didn't say much else to one another as they strolled through the corridor.

The atmosphere in the locker room was subdued, void of any banter and entertaining chats. Most of the players were already there as the couple walked in.

Beth took a glimpse at Y/N and Kyra who still seemed in a discussion with one another, although they were whispering now.

''Girls, we're a lot better than this.'' Kim broke the ice, a neutral expression on her face.

Everyone nodded at the captain, the collective disappointment from the match was visible. ''Well, it's done, we can't change anything about it. So, everyone just do a reset, try to get some sleep or distract yourselves on the bus, and I expect everyone with fresh minds and legs at training.''

The team nodded and weakly applauded Kim's small speech.

As the team began to disperse, Y/N caught Beth's eye, offering a faint smile in greeting. However, the winger's response was noticeably strained, her usually warm demeanor replaced by a subtle tension.

"Everything okay?" The younger one ventured, her concern evident.

Beth's smile faltered slightly, her gaze flickering away before returning to meet Y/N's. "Yeah, everything's fine." She replied, though her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

The striker's brow furrowed further, a flicker of uncertainty clouding her features. "Are you sure?" She pressed gently, not used to this awkwardness from her teammate.

"I... yeah, I'm sure." She retorted, her voice tinged with irritation.

"Okay..." Y/N trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. Sensing the dismissiveness between them, she offered a hesitant smile before turning back to where she had been talking with Lia.

As her housemate walked away, Beth's expression hardened, a pang of guilt gnawing at her conscience. She knew she shouldn't act like this towards her, but her words had really struck a nerve for some reason and it was hard to pretend it didn't.

The drive home on the bus wasn't that different, though the atmosphere was more subdued due to the loss. Y/N and Kyra were seated next to each other, Katie and Caitlin sitting on the other side of them.

''You alright, Y/N?'' Caitlin asked, noticing the youngster's quietness.

Y/N looked up, glancing away from her nails to the older Australian player. She hesitated answering, not knowing if it was appropriate to say anything about her interaction with Beth.

She sat up straight and motioned for the three of them to huddle together over the small table. They got her message and did just that.

''Did anything happen on the bench or something? Cause I had this weird exchange with Meado, and it's just stuck in my head.'' She explained, her voice hushed.

They all frowned at her words. ''No, she was just frustrated about the game, but so was everyone else.'' Caitlin responded.

''What happened?'' Katie chimed in, curious to know about this exchange.

''I don't know. She was looking at me in the locker room, and I smiled at her, but she, I don't know, just looked weird at me. I asked her if she was alright, but she was kinda distant with me? She responded a little irritated so I left her alone, but it was weird.'' Y/N gave a small summary of the interaction.

"That is strange." Kyra mused, breaking the silence that had settled over their huddle.

They nodded at her words, agreeing with the young Australian.

''I didn't notice anything.'' Caitlin said with a pout, feeling sorry she couldn't help her younger teammate out. ''Me neither, kiddo.'' Katie added, a similar expression on her face.

Y/N smiled sadly, disappointed she wasn't any wiser on Beth. Katie rubbed her arm once she noticed her dejected expression. ''Hey, I wouldn't worry about it. It's a tough loss.''

The youngster nodded at the Irishwoman's words. ''Yeah, you're right.''

Katie was not right.

As soon as she got in the car with the beloved couple it was clear that something had gone down for them to act in such a sour mood. Vivianne's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, while Beth stared out of the window, her expression unreadable.

Sensing the palpable tension, Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The youngster wanted to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come out. It felt like they were stuck in her throat.

The drive home felt like forever. Every minute made the atmosphere worse. Y/N tried to catch Vivianne or Beth's eye, hoping for some sign that things would get better, but there was nothing.

Car rides after losses were never filled with much conversation, but it had never been like this.

A wave of relief went through her as the car was parked in front of their apartment complex, longing for the comfort of her room where she could hide from whatever the situation was.

Y/N couldn't even come up with a guess on what had transpired. Did they have a fight? Did she do something? Did someone else do something?

She had absolutely no clue.

However, the tension seemed to follow them into their shared home. The silence had become even more deafening with each step they took.

Beth disappeared into her room without a word, while Vivianne headed straight for the kitchen, her movements stiff and mechanical. Y/N stood in the hallway, feeling like an outsider in her own home.

Their behaviors made her feel anxious, feeling that knot inside her stomach. What had happened during the game? What had caused them to retreat into themselves like this?

Unable to handle any of it longer, Y/N tentatively approached the Dutchwoman in the kitchen. "Um, Viv?" She began, her voice small.

Vivianne glanced up, her expression guarded. "Yeah?” She replied, accent heavy.

The younger girl hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. "I, uh, did, uh, something happen at the game?" She stammered, her words stumbling over each other in her haste to get everything out.

The striker's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?” She asked, her face neutral.

Her response only added to the youngest one's confusion. It seemed as though they were both dancing around a subject neither wanted to address.

"I-I just... noticed things were a bit off between everyone after the match," Y/N explained, her voice barely above a whisper, "and, well, the car ride home was... a bit weird, you know.”

Vivianne's expression softened slightly, though her guard remained up. ''Don't worry about it. Just… frustration from the game.''

But Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just frustration. She wanted to press further, but the fear of causing further conflict held her back.

Instead, she offered a hesitant nod. ''Okay, good.'' She murmured to the floor, retreating back to her room with a heavy heart.

The Arsenal homegrown player pulled her phone out of her pocket, searching up Kyra's contact. It only took a few rings for the Australian to pick up, she was probably already on her phone as she was called.

''Hey.'' Her accent momentarily bringing a smile to Y/N's face.

''Hey, you're home?''

''Yeah, just arrived. What's up?''

There was a brief pause before Y/N continued. ''Things have gotten a bit weirder since, uh, on the bus.''

''Shit. What happened?'' She asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

''It's just... the tension at home is almost suffocating," she explained, ''it was completely silent the entire time we were driving home, and when we got home, Beth immediately went to her room. I tried to ask Viv about, but she told me it was just frustrations, but it clearly is not just that.''

There was a moment of silence as Kyra processed Y/N's words. "That doesn't sound good," she finally replied, ''you really have no idea what might have happened? Maybe they had a fight or something?''

Y/N shook her head, even though her teammate couldn't see it. "No, that's the thing. I'm completely lost." She admitted, frustration lacing her words.

''Same. I wish I knew what to say to help.'' Kyra said softly.

''It's alright, Ky. Thanks for letting me ramble.'' Y/N chuckled, appreciating the opportunity to unload her worries onto her friend.

''It's fine, honestly. It must not be fun to be in this situation,'' the Matilda replied, feeling for her friend, ''if anything else happens you can always let me know, okay? I'm gonna have some dinner now.''

Y/N smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Ky. I really appreciate it.”

''Anytime. Take care, I'll see you at training.''

''You too. Bye, bye.'' They bid each other goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Y/N prepared to leave her room again, wanting to check if Vivianne had started dinner yet or not.

Just as she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with Beth, who was coming out of her room with a tight-lipped expression. The sudden encounter caught them both off guard.

''Shit, sorry.'' The younger one apologized first, giving her housemate an awkward glance.

''It's alright,'' Beth brushed off, ''uh, were you on the phone just now?" She asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Y/N nodded. ''Uh, yeah, with Kyra.''

Beth's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. "Oh, Kyra." She murmured, her voice tight.

The younger girl simply stared at the winger, not knowing what to say to her words. "Is everything okay?" Y/N ventured, her voice hesitant as she searched Beth's face for any sign of what might be bothering her.

Beth's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. When she finally spoke, her words were tinged with a hint of irritation. ''Everything's alright.''

Y/N offered a small, uneasy smile and nodded. "Oh, okay." She said, though her words felt hollow even to her own ears.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Beth turned to walk away. As she watched Beth disappear around the corner, she wondered if it had been something she had done. However, she couldn't recall saying or doing anything that day that would have provoked this kind of demeanor from the couple.

The young striker walked into the living room, noticing Vivianne bustling about in the kitchen. But what caught Y/N's attention was the hushed whispers exchanged between the couple, Beth and Vivianne not being subtle about their gossiping.

A sense of discomfort washed over the youngster as she hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt or retreat unnoticed. But before she could make a decision, the Dutchwoman glanced up and caught her eye, her expression inscrutable.

''Hey, dinner is almost ready. Just some leftover pasta from yesterday.'' She informed Y/N, her tone somewhat forced as she attempted to maintain a facade of normalcy.

Y/N forced a smile. ''Nice, thanks, Viv.'' She answered, trying to ignore the awkwardness that hung in the air.

She retreated to the couch, feeling as if she wasn't welcome in the small space. Something was off, and she couldn't help but feel like she was on the outside looking in.

She scrolled on her phone for a few minutes before Vivianne called her to the table as the food was ready. As they gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere remained strained, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Vivianne served up the leftover pasta, her movements brisk as she avoided making eye contact with anyone. Beth sat across from Y/N, her expression unreadable as she picked at her food.

Y/N tried to focus on her food, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach made it difficult to swallow.

For a few moments, the only sound was the clinking of forks against plates, the silence punctuated only by the occasional awkward cough or clearing of throat.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Y/N opened her mouth. "So, um, what did you guys think about the match?'' She asked the pair, her voice coming out more high than she had intended.

As if on cue, Vivianne and Beth glanced up from their plates at the same time.

''It was tough, but it shouldn't have been tough. We lacked a clear tactic.'' The experienced striker answered, filling up the silence.

Y/N nodded, relieved at least one of them responded to her attempt at conversation. She took a peek at Beth, who did not seem amused in the slightest to talk about the surprising defeat earlier that day.

''It was just another match of us fucking everything up, and you kids having to unfuck it all.'' Beth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The youngest's eyes widened slightly at the cutting remark, not expecting those words to come out of the Brit's mouth.

Vivianne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting a quick glance at Y/N before fixing her gaze on her partner. "Beth, that's enough.'' Her voice was stern, warning Beth that this was not the way to go about this.

But Beth ignored her girlfriend, her eyes fixed on Y/N with an intensity that made her squirm. ''No, she needs to learn to not talk about teammates that way, especially the ones that have just gotten back from serious injuries, and need time to reintegrate into the group.''

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, she cast a desperate look at Vivianne, silently pleading for her to intervene and diffuse the situation before it escalated any further.

''Beth, I wasn't-''

''You weren't what? You weren't talking shit to Kyra about us right after the match? You weren't talking shit about us to Kyra on the phone just now?'' The oldest continued in an accusing tone.

Vivianne let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she attempted to defuse the situation. ''Beth.'' She said firmly, her gaze shifting between the two other people at the table.

''I wasn't talking shit about you guys. I would never do that.'' Y/N managed to let out, offended at the mere idea of her not appreciating the two women who'd let her move in with them a 1,5 years ago.

''Y/N, we heard you. On the pitch after the match, with Kyra.'' Beth responded bluntly.

Y/N swallowed hard, slightly ashamed of being caught. ''We were just... we were just frustrated, okay? That comment wasn't directed at any of you guys, it was more at Jonas, to be fair.''

The couple grew silent at the admission, realizing they had greatly misunderstood the two young girls' conversation. ''About Jonas?'' Vivianne repeated, her voice carrying a note of embarrassment.

The young striker nodded. ''Yeah, me and Kyra have just been a bit upset with our game time, that's all. It felt like a repeat of the Tottenham game.''

Beth and Vivianne exchanged a glance, coming to a silent understanding. ''We're sorry for jumping the gun on that one, darling. We really thought we needed to teach you some manners.'' The Brit nervously apologized with a chuckle.

''It's alright, we probably should've been a bit more discreet.'' Y/N brushed her apology off with a hand gesture.

''No, you two are in your full right to complain.'' Vivianne retorted, agreeing on the playing time matter.

The teenager waited a few moments before elaborating. ''I don't mind sitting on the bench, it's great to get rest, you know? But it almost feels like he doesn't trust me to get the game starting or something. I like to think I did great last season, so this kind of sucks.'' She opened up, not having voiced these thoughts to anyone but Kyra.

''You did amazing last season, you stepped up when we needed someone and the team will never forget that.'' Beth smiled, squeezing the youngster' s hand.

''It seems that Jonas forgot.'' Y/N muttered bitterly, looking down at her empty plate.

The couple silenced themselves at her mumbled words, not knowing what the appropriate response would be to cheer her up about the situation. They were indirectly responsible for the young girl to not get as much game time anymore, so whatever they would tell her, she would most likely not feel much better afterwards.

''Just focus on what you're doing right now. Show up to training, recover well, maximize everything in the minutes you do get. Show him that he should trust you to start, and that you deserve to have that spot in the line-up.'' Vivianne chimed in, her voice soft but resolute.

Y/N nodded at the older woman's words, though her demeanor still seemed dejected. ''Yeah, I'll continue to do that.'' It came out somewhat passive aggressive.

''I know it doesn't fix the situation, but you're my personal star girl, regardless whether you play or not.'' Beth softly smiled at her.

The teen managed to crack a small smile back, appreciating the sentiment. ''Thanks, Beth.''

''You're mine too.'' Vivianne added.

''Hey, that's my compliment for her! Find another one if you want to be cute!'' Beth scolded her partner, dramatically feigning annoyance.

The Dutchwoman frowned. ''Everyone calls her ‘star girl'! You're not original either!'' She pouted back.

Y/N couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the banter between the couple, happily accepting the momentary distraction from her frustrations.

Beth playfully rolled her eyes. ''At least I'm complimenting her!''

''Sorry that I was just giving useful advice, Bethany.'' Vivianne retorted.

''Useful.'' The Brit repeated, her voice heavily tinged with sarcasm.

Vivianne's mouth gaped, pretending to be offended. ''It was useful! That's what I would have wanted to hear at 19 year-old.'' She defended herself.

''19 year-old's want to hear praise, Viv. They want to be called star girls, not receive a lecture.'' Beth quickly replied, with a smirk.

''Y/N, it was useful, right?'' The older striker turned towards the teenager.

''Yeah, Y/N, tell Miss Miedema how useful her advice was.'' Beth chorused her words, grinning from ear-to-ear.

The youngster simply glanced between the two of them, before picking up her empty plate and standing up from her seat. ''I'm taking this as my sign to leave.''

She ignored their pleas with a satisfied grin, making her way to the kitchen to dump her plate, and walking back to her room.

The couple watched her depart, sharing a knowing look, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. ''She's gonna call Kyra, isn't she?'' Vivianne chuckled.

''She so is.'' Beth agreed with a laugh.

requests are always welcome!

[thewulf]

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it.  He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

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[honorarysimp]

New York State of Mind

series masterlist

day 1

New York City.

The city that never sleeps is winding down for the night, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to a softer, quieter atmosphere. The reflection of the sunset on the glass windows of the buildings creates a mesmerizing display of light and color, dancing across the streets below. Here and there people still move about, making their way home from work or heading out for the evening.

The city seems to be taking a moment to breathe, enjoying this brief interlude of peace as lastcasting warm orange glows across the towering skyscrapers.

You’re exhausted. Dog tired. It took two days to get from California to New York, taking into account all the pit stops for varying reasons, both of you catching some sleep at the hotel stop half way through. But god, it’s good to be back home, and you realize this as you maneuver the car through traffic.

Tara is asleep in the passenger seat, one of your hoodies tucked underneath her head as a makeshift pillow, her knees pulled up to her chest as she remains blissfully unaware of reality.

You hate to wake her, because even though you’re use to the traveling and driving, Tara is not.

But she threatened your life prior to her falling asleep, insisting you do so she could take in the city for the first time.

You reach over and rest a hand on her arm, thumb gently trying to coax her awake, “hey, you’re gonna miss sunset” you says gently, which earns you a sleepy grumble as she swats your hand away blindly.

That makes you laugh, sitting back into your seat just as Tara sits up and stretches, running her fingers through her hair as she blinks the remnants of slumber from her dazed mind.

“What-“

Instantly she falls quiet, now fully awake as she peers through the window.

Tara takes in the sight of the bright orange disk of the sun is slowly making its descent from the sky, the light making a warm and bright atmosphere as it shone all throughout the city. It bounced off the reflective windows, casting streaks across the buildings. The light was getting dimmer by the minute, the clouds gaining a more pinkish hue as the sun got closer to disappearing behind the skyline.

Shadows were starting to fill the alleys and crevices as the sun continued its slow journey towards the horizon, the air turning increasingly colder with the dimming of its light.

“Holy shit”.

“Welcome to New York” you say quietly, not giving much attention to the buildings anymore as you instead, take in her awed expression.

The drive to your place is about as quick as you expected, the traffic is something you didn’t miss. But Tara seems happy, watching and soaking in everything. It is a lot, after all, so you don’t blame her.

You only relax once you get the car into the parking garage, the both of you in a daze as you head for the elevator.

“Fuck the bags, we’ll get them later” was all Tara had to say for you to agree without question. It’s a fairly safe area, you’d like to think, but then again you’ve learned nothing is ever as it seems.

But you’re far too tired to give a shit right now.

So when you make it to your apartment, you unlock the door and let Tara walk inside first. Instinctively you kick your shoes off and head down the little hall that leads to the rest of your apartment, only, Tara is paused at the opening.

The apartment is a nice size for New York standards, with bare white walls and open spaces, and a large window that extended from the ceiling to floor. The city skyline was visible from the window, the sun setting on the horizon to the west. The apartment was tastefully furnished, but there was not any personal touches anywhere in it. It was a nice, but slightly cold and sterile, living space.

“In my defense, I moved in here two months before I left for Woodsboro” you mumble sheepishly, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her waist. Tara hums, instantly sinking back into you, and when her head drops back to your shoulder you can’t help but rest your own against hers.

“It’s yours, so it’s perfect”.

You smile, taking a step forward while keeping her in your arms, Tara automatically follows as you guide her to the bedroom.

“Tour later. Sleep now.”

Tara yawns, but smiles softly after, “you better be showing me to the guest bedroom”.

“Unfortunately, there’s only my bed here, I hope that won’t inconvenience you.”

You don’t even bother turning on the light, the last streaks of orange and red giving you just enough visibility to make out the outline of the mattress. To which, Tara promptly drops down on to, pulling you with her. You hear two soft thumps before Tara curls herself against you, probably her shoes hitting the hardwood floor.

“Fuck, don’t wake me up for two days” Tara mumbles as her hand slips under your shirt, fingers curling around your side as she tugs you closer. You exhale and wrap your arms around her, sleep already pulling at your consciousness.

“Hibernation sounds nice” you reply quietly, falling asleep to the sound of her breaths evening out, and the warmth of her body against yours.

Not even the city that never sleeps could keep you awake, the final streams of light dissipating and leaving the room in a comforting darkness.

day 3

The city is vast, it’s loud, and it’s busy.

A contrast to what Tara is use to, having spent most her life in Woodsboro, not even when she went to the city to get her EMT certification compares to this.

God, but she is loving this kind of chaos.

It was overwhelming at first, but seeing you move through the streets and around people like second nature, switching between holding her hand or having your arm around her.

It’s hard not to feel giddy, and Tara hates it, because she is not that kind of girl.

You’ve made plans to go sightsee today, a few marker spots that Tara finds herself genuinely excited for. The tallest building in the country, Central Park, Time Square to name a few.

But when you bring Tara into what you’ve named your “favorite coffee shop in the world”, she suddenly finds herself thinking this is already going to be her favorite pace you’ve taken her. And it’s not even a highlight tourist go-to.

It’s a hole in the wall cafe, spacious on the inside, and it’s got this… energy that instantly has Tara feeling homesick. But in a good way, it makes her smile as her eyes take in the interior.

The coffee shop is a cozy space with walls painted a dark green color. The wooden floor darkly stained, and the furniture a mix of darkly varnished oak and wrought iron. The walls were lined with dark wooden bookshelves, the air thick with the aromatic scent of freshly ground coffee.

The coffee bar itself was a long, gleaming counter, filled with a variety of coffee beans and a vintage espresso machine. The wall behind it lined with a variety of coffee beans and a menu with an array of coffee drinks. The ambiance was a mix of soft and intimate, with low lighting and a warm and inviting atmosphere.

The sound of steamers, coffee being ground, and soft music filled the air. Soft yellow lighting illuminated the space, casting a homey glow in the coffee shop.

Tara is in love.

Approaching the bar, the barista behind the counter instantly lights up at the sight of you.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes! Back in town for a bit?” the barista asks with a wide, familiar smile, which makes Tara look between you in curiosity.

“Showing my girlfriend around, had to bring her by” you say with a proud smile, your eyes finding hers, a subtle squeeze of your fingers that are laced between hers makes her chest ache pleasantly.

The barista then looks to Tara kindly, “first time in New York?”

That makes Tara flush, but she tries to play it off with a shrug as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear “yeah, you could say that”.

“Well whatever you want, it’s on the house, as usual” the barista says with a nod, already grabbing a cup and writing down what Tara is safe to assume - your usual.

It’s only after Tara gives her order, followed by a thank you, when she looks to you in bewilderment.

“On the house? As usual? Do I even want to ask?”

You lean in, giving her hand a small tug, which has her meeting you half way for a soft lingering kiss.

“I know the owner is all”.

“Friend of yours?”

“We’re practically family”.

day 4

The kitchen table is scattered with Polaroids of Tara, a variety of location and purpose.

Tara thought it a good idea, you were quick to claim it as yours.

The sweetest melody filled the apartment, in time with the steadfast and deliberate movement of your tongue.

One of the photos is her in the passenger seat of your car, water bottle raise to her lips as she smiles around the rim, pretending not to notice. It’s the first of them all, if you remember correctly.

Syrup tasting of the sweetest nectar coats your tongue as it parts through soft flesh, a soft thump of something solid against hard wood can be heard. But muffled by the warmth on either side of your head.

Another photo, Tara standing with one arm up, hand blocking the sun from her eyes as she stands amongst the Great Salt Lake Desert. Still, you’re not sure why she insisted you stop, but you’ve learned to never deny her.

Fingers thread through your hair, those black painted nails gently scraping in a silent gesture of encouragement. Your lips caress fruit forbidden, gently sucking and rolling your tongue in turn, the pressure around your head increases. But even then, you distinctly hear her voice raise an octave.

Your favorite photo by far is from Chicago, Illinois. Of all places, there is where a butterfly had grown fond of Tara, her hands gently cupped together as it perches on her thumb. Those pretty orange and yellow wings don’t compare to that awed smile that graces her lips.

Like biting into a peach, your head spins as ambrosia fills your mouth just as she goes taut and rigid, beautiful symphony surpassing its apex and shifting into a slur of curses and garbled swears.

The most recent one, in New York, is simply Tara gazing up with lights of all colors reflecting in those captivating brown eyes. It’s night, on Time Square, and you’re fairly certain this is the only photo she didn’t see you take.

You savor, relish, linger, as long as she needs until she’s completely undone. And as you withdrawal, a smile tugs at your lips.

Amongst the photos is Tara herself, splayed out across your table, flustered and panting and the prettiest haze in her eyes. When they find yours, she automatically mirrors your smile, which has you leaning forward.

Her fingers part from your hair in opt of tenderly cupping your jaw, shakily leaning up off the table just enough to meet you for a messy, but intimate kiss. And when her tongue glides against your bottom lip, you part them just so she will understand why you’ve grown addicted to the taste of her.

This table, a momentary alter, for the woman you’d die for. The woman you surrender yourself to. The woman that is everything to you.

“I love you” you whisper against her lips, an oath, devotion.

You feel her smile, her nose softly nuzzling yours just as her thumb delicately traces your cheekbone, “I love you”.

To you she is a goddess, and you, worshiper.

day 5

“Yeah, no, you’re kidding yourself if you think you’re fucking going anywhere”.

It’s far too amusing watching you in a panic, tearing the cushions off the couch as you search for your tape recorder.

You’d gotten an email for a “quick job” at the precinct, to assist on a case currently underway, as you so vaguely put. So naturally when you stepped out of the room, Tara swiped it and hid it.

You’ll never leave without it, and thus, gives Tara the time she needs to remind you of all the reasons you won’t be leaving.

Not to mention, Tara is determined to win this. “You promised this two weeks would be about us” she points out, crossing her arms and pinning you with a glare you haven’t noticed yet.

“I can’t say no to work” you say once more, ducking down to look under the couch.

“Yes you can, it’s so simple. It’s literally one vowel”.

“Tara it’s work, it’s what pays-“

“Don’t you bullshit me, I know for a fact Sidney overcompensated you, so you’d better have a plausible fucking excuse for trying to abandon me.”

It’s a low blow, but it gets Tara the reaction she wants.

That makes you sit up, and from where Tara is standing she has to force herself to keep a straight face. As the way your head pops up just over the top of the couch with that look of irritation, only amuses her further.

“Where is it Tara” you say as you stand, your tone unyielding as you begin to crawl over the couch.

“Up your ass, is where” Tara counters, circling the couch before you can reach her.

“Babe-“

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, you’ve been revoked of your title until you promise me you aren’t going.”

A stare off ensues, your hands gripping the back of the couch as she stands opposite of you, arms still crossed. You’re breaking, fighting back a smile, and Tara is far better with her poker face than you.

“You’re. Not. Going.”

“I have to work, I can’t just say no” you sigh, shoulders starting to deflate, which is a signal to Tara she’s most definitely got you right where she wants you.

“Yes you can” Tara says as she uncrosses her arms, walking forward and dropping to her knees on the couch in front of you, purposefully looking up at you under hooded eyes and smiling softly, “like this”.

And in one swift movement, Tara tilts her head up and kisses you slowly. Her hands curl into the fabric of your shirt, tugging you forward gently. Seducing, enticing, whatever you want to call it. You aren’t leaving.

And from the way you lean forward into her, letting her tug you over the couch and down on to the messily placed cushions, you know it too.

“You’re a bad influence” you say quietly, she silences you by grazing her teeth against your bottom lip.

“Come on, work can wait” Tara runs her hands up your chest, her fingers loosely curling around the back of your neck as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

“You’re seriously going to leave me here, alone, in your apartment without you? When I came all this way just for you?”

Hook, and sinker.

Tara sees the fight to hold yourself responsible shatter, especially when she knows how much you can’t argue against her statement.

“Fuck, okay, yeah you’re right” you sigh, your head dropping to her shoulder.

Tara doesn’t even try to stifle her triumphant laugh, tugging you down to lay next to her as she blindly reaches for the remote. The item hastily discarded on the floor in your search for your tape recorder.

Which, you seem to have completely forgotten about, no thanks to Tara.

You will reap minor consequences later, but fuck it, Tara wins.

day 6

“Please don’t laugh, this is serious, Tara”.

She bites her lip, watching you carefully as you shift from the countertop by the sink to the adjacent one next to the stove, you’re just so goddamn endearing.

It’s hard not to watch you these days, the little mannerisms you have as you fidget about. Especially when you’re cooking. The way you pop your knuckles amidst a temporary pause, train of thought escaping you.

The way your tongue sticks out just the slightest from the right corner of your mouth when you’re concentrating far too hard. That subtle small smile that tugs at your lips as your hands move with practiced fluidity.

Tara wishes she could say she was paying attention to what you’re saying, what you’re doing, but she pretty much tuned out after you told her this was a recipe your best friend’s mom had taught you back in your adolescence.

It’s not her fault she finds you captivating when you’re just being yourself, you’re definitely talking to her and she’s definitely offering a small nod of acknowledgement here and there.

Only when you swipe a bit of sauce on to your finger and offer it to her, does Tara snap out of her thoughts. Recoiling back a from where her chin had been rested on her balled fists, elbows slipping off the counter.

“Oh god no, I don’t know where those fingers have been” Tara says as she makes a face, which only makes you let out a belly laugh that causes Tara’s heart to flutter.

“Tara you know exactly where these fingers have been” you say with innuendo, giving her an expectant look as you offer the sample of sauce gathered on your finger.

“Exactly.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully and stepping away, bringing your finger to your own mouth “I did wash them before I started cooking, not that it matters”.

Tara bites back a smile, she can’t help it, its habit. But god it’s hard when you’re always doing the most mundane or stupidest shit that has her fighting off the involuntary action.

Just as you’re filling both plates with pasta and what you call “garlic bread”, Tara told you butter and garlic salt on toast doesn’t count, she decides to approach a topic she’s been trying to find a way to address in the most subtle way possible.

Then again, Tara has never been good at that.

“Baby I love you, but I need human interaction, preferably with the people that love you”.

The sudden statement has you pausing, looking over to her with an expression that’s a mixture of emotions.

“You’ve got me, isn’t that enough?” You say with a half smile as you continue scooping pasta on to the plates.

Expected of you, that tiptoe of a reply. You’re good at it and Tara gives you props, but she knows if she asks straightforward that you won’t be able to tell her no. Only she doesn’t want to have to ask, because that’s not the point.

The point should be that you want to introduce her to the people in your life. But you’re hesitant, why Tara still isn’t sure, however considering her relationship with her own parents. Tara is the last to judge.

“You’re more than enough, but it’s my turn to know you. Is that so hard to believe?”

That makes you pause, and this is one of those moments Tara finds herself prideful with how well she’s learned to read you. How you register she’s throwing your own words back at you, the smile that breaks out across your face tells her it all.

“Okay. I’m hearing you. You’re right” you sigh softly, doing that thing where you square your shoulders when you’re getting serious, “how about tomorrow? It’s a weekend day? I’m sure everyone will be free”.

It’s this moment that Tara’s excitement instantly shifts into dread as she realizes she’s actually going to meet the people that matter to you. Your people.

Now, Tara is a people person, she deals with people all the time with what she does for a living. The hardest of them to the most broken.

But this? This terrifies her, and even when you lean in to press the softest of kisses to her temple, her insides churn uneasily.

What if they don’t approve?

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a wine bottle popping, making Tara’s eyes snap over to where you’re pouring two glasses. You offer her one, to which she gladly takes, a soft clink following the two glasses meeting. That fucking smile gets her every time. So full of love.

And then Tara comes to a second realization, that she doesn’t care.

Because having you? Tara needs nothing more.

day 7

You’d think for a Saturday, the pub would be packed.

The pub itself is a cozy and lively space, with a warm and inviting atmosphere. It’s larger than a typical small town bar, with a bar on one end and a few round tables scattered around the space. The walls were painted a deep red color, and the floor was made of dark wood. Soft, warm lighting cast from lights woven through the wooden rafters along the ceiling, and a small corner of the space was set up with a pool table. Chatter and laughter fills the space as a handful of patrons mill about drinking.

Tara can say with pride she’s finally met three of your childhood friends.

So far, Anika is her favorite. She’s full of life, positivity, and an abundance of embarrassing stories from your younger years. You two banter back and forth like siblings, your incessant desire to remind her you’re two months older. Anika quick to remind you who made sure you actually took care of yourself so that you somewhat functioned like a normal human being.

Tara doesn’t even try to hide her smile.

Ethan is quiet, but not in a bad way, more of a wallflower. His comments are an attempt to insert himself into conversation, Tara takes note of the way you always give his shoulder a reassuring pat paired with a wide smile. How he eases, his discomfort by the public space alleviating.

To balance the group, is Quinn, the wild card. From observation Tara can tell she’s the polar opposite of her brother Ethan. When she isn’t eyeing any man or woman she considers attractive that walks into the pub, the redhead is assessing Tara with a subtle smirk. A flirt through and through without question. She’s charismatic, quick witted, and a bit air headed.

The dynamic works, oddly enough, and Tara lives for it. Being present, seeing you with your friends, and she can tell how much they care for you. It’s clear you’ve all been through a lot together, which only deepens her curiosity on your past further.

You don’t talk about it, this is the closest taste to understanding what makes you who you are that Tara has ever come.

But that’s a question for another time, perhaps in the privacy of just the two of you.

When your laughter rings out, full of warmth and from your belly, Tara’s smile softens. You look so happy, so complete, and when your eyes meet she has one simple thought.

Tara is completely, stupidly, in love with you.

She isn’t sure when she fell, and it’s not like she didn’t already figure as much, but it’s without a doubt now.

And then comes the question she’d been waiting for all night.

“So how did you two meet?” it’s Ethan that asks, boyish grin and curiosity in his expression.

You and Tara share a look, having already made an agreement prior not to mention the… darker details.

“Well, I asked her for drinks-“

“Oh bullshit, that’s not how it started and you know it” Tara instantly cuts you off, grinning as you give her an accusing look, which only makes your friends laugh.

“Tell us how it really went Tara, god knows your local lover over here was probably a blubbering mess” Anika comments, which instantly has you trying to voice a rebuke.

Tara quickly slaps a hand over your mouth, a wicked grin growing across her face “this one was hopeless from the start, but it’s not like I made it easy-“

You swat her hand away, jumping on it with a dramatic scoff, “oh come on I totally wooed you with my charm and pool playing skills-“

“You didn’t win once”.

“Yeah but-“

“And you quit smoking cigarettes because I told you about my asthma.”

That has all three of your friends in disbelief, Anika praising Tara for getting you to quit. Quinn is instantly giving you shit for buckling so quick, and Ethan is completely flabbergasted.

“No fucking way. Did you freeze hell over or something?”

Tara grins smugly, ignoring the way you’re sputtering out, slowly giving up trying to defend yourself.

“You were snatching my cigarettes from me for days, don’t act like you didn’t-“

“Just admit it, you were down bad. I only had to mention it once”.

You suddenly smile, giving her a look that sends a small shiver down her spine, “yeah well you acted like you didn’t care but you just couldn’t help yourself”.

Okay, true, but Tara isn’t backing down.

She reaches up and grabs your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, making your face scrunch in a cute way.

“Come on, with this face? I was bound to cave eventually.”

It makes everyone laugh harder than they should, and you smile more than you should, but when she kisses you it’s full of love.

It’s always been love, even if it took you both some time to get there.

“You better keep her or I’m disowning you”.

The kiss breaks, you huff in irritation, Tara laughs brightly as she leans against you.

“Oh my god, fuck off, Anika”.

day 9

The bathroom is dimly lit by a few tall candles placed around the space, casting a soft and warm glow in the room.

The air was filled with the scent of the candles, a compilation of different fragrances mixed together. The space felt secluded and cozy, on the bathroom counter is your vinyl record player, the sweet lyrics of The Louvre playing over the faint sound of the candles crackling.

The lighting isn’t all that makes the intimate atmosphere, the small bath was filled to the brim with warm, bubbly water, creating a cozy space for the two of you within. The tub is narrow, forcing you to be close to one another as you relax in the water. Despite the tight quarters, you’re comfortable together, the clumps of suds providing the only barrier on the water surface.

Tara is currently nestled between your legs, her back flush to your front. You’re fitted together perfectly, always perfectly, it’s almost cliché to conclude you had to have been made for each other.

Her eyes are closed, hair pulled back into a messy bun as she relaxes her head back into the crook of your neck. If it weren’t for the way her thumb gently caresses your knuckles where your fingers are interlocked, you’d be quick to assume she’d fallen asleep.

You hum along quietly to the music, your free hand coming up to absently tuck a strand of her hair out of her face and behind her ear. The corners of her mouth twitch, and she leans back into you further. If that is at all possible.

“I could get use to this” Tara murmurs after a lapse of silence, the soft words filling the tranquility.

“Me too” you whisper against the curve of her ear, your heart fluttering as you notice small goosebumps form on what skin you can see. Even when surrounded by the warm water the tub provides.

It’s moments like this, with Tara, that make you wonder if this was all you’d ever needed your whole life. Just life, with her.

That thought alone, makes you far more grateful that you made the choices you did, that led you to Tara in the first place.

Having Tara here in New York, away from the otherworldly chaos, no expectations or unavoidable demands from anything or anyone.

It makes you appreciate even the hard times, and the lessons it taught you. Never did you think you’d ever be this happy, this at peace.

You’re completely, unabashedly, in love with her.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t think it can get better than this.

day 10

Tara and Anika are bonding over how you need decorations, that your apartment is too bland.

You aren’t sure whether this is a good thing or not.

“You’re fucked, bud” Ethan comments as he lays down a red nine amongst the discard pile laying in the middle of your coffee table.

“What’s mine is hers” you say with a ghost of a smile, dropping a red four.

Quinn snorts in amusement from your left, placing a green four on top of your card which has both you and Ethan groaning.

“Uno, also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this with a girl before” Quinn says as she shoots you a smirk just as Ethan drops a green draw two, “and that’s saying a lot all considering I’ve never seen you serious with anyone”.

You roll your eyes, pulling from the draw deck and sighing with relief as you drop the green eight you’d gotten.

“Like you have room to talk, you haven’t even been in a relationship-“

Ethan snickers when Quinn grabs a pillow off the couch and smacks you in the back of the head with it, making you suck in air through your teeth as you rip the pillow from her.

Raising it, ready to strike-

“Dont you dare, behave” you hear Anika scold, making you pause mid-movement, shooting her a glare that doesn’t even hold light to the one you’re receiving from her.

The fact Tara is hiding a laugh behind her hand doesn’t help either.

“How about you stop jumping on my case, huh? My apartment is fine the way it is” you shoot towards the both of them, squaring your shoulders.

“You need life in here, some art on the walls won’t kill you” Tara tries to add in, to which Quinn follows up with her own opinion.

As always.

“I agree, these walls are as bland as Ethan’s dating life-“

You swing the pillow down on Quinn, cutting her sentence off as she yelps at the abrupt flop of the pillow against the side of her head.

“CHILDREN” Anika groans, Tara laughing as she watches you and Quinn start shoving at each other while Ethan argues his case on his dating life.

It falls on deaf ears.

“-what’s the point in decorating if I might move to Woodsboro to be with Tara, anyways” you say abruptly, which has Quinn stop on her assaults to look over to the woman in question. Everyone does.

Tara however, doesn’t miss a beat as she holds your gaze, expression unreadable as she raise one singular eyebrow.

“And if I decide I want to move to New York?”

A subtle tension fills the apartment, not even Quinn has anything to say for once.

“You guys joining in on this now? Or what?” Ethan cuts the silence with his effort to change the subject, and for once it helps as Anika and Tara head over to jump in on the card game.

Quinn shoots you a look as she regathers the cards, but you don’t have time to wonder what it means as Tara drops down to sit on the ground next to you. Purposefully bumping her shoulder into yours harder than necessary.

You whip your head around, jaw set and eyes narrowed playfully. Even when she’s trying to look serious, you know it’s not that deep.

But, it is.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, you know” you mutter to her as Anika demands that she be the one to distribute the cards, since Quinn is known to cheat.

As argument breaks out between the two of them, you and Tara find yourselves in a momentary bubble. Your eyes searching hers, she doing the same to yours.

“Tomorrow” she mutters, her hand gliding across the rug, your own instinctively slipping off the table to rest atop hers.

It’s a silent agreement, because the conversation won’t be easy, but even that doesn’t matter.

You’re pretty sure you’re both going to be on the same page.

Quinn ends up winning the next three games of Uno.

You accuse Ethan of slipping her cards again, she does have the better poker face than him after all.

And when he turns beet red, sputtering, war breaks out.

This. This is your family, it always has been. And with Tara?

It feels complete.

day 11

Intimacy comes in many forms, as does affection.

But with you? It’s indescribable.

The level of comfort and safety she feels with you is almost scary, with how quickly she opened up to you. Tara should’ve been terrified.

But if you’ve ever been right about anything, is that Tara just couldn’t help herself.

Tara raged to Sam about you back in Woodsboro on two separate occasions.

The first, after the incident at the lake with Wes. After she’d found you at that diner when she’d gotten off her shift late. After she’d gotten to know you a little better.

The second, was after you’d tried to leave. After you’d returned, told her you’d only come back for her. Reminded her how you’d promised to never leave her, after trying to leave her.

During Tara’s first rant, Sam had told her to stay away from you. How you were nothing but trouble from the outside, how you were reckless and acted with intrusive behavior. By the second, Sam was giving Tara a look somewhere close to sympathetic, with a dash of understanding.

Tara is pretty sure Sam knew before she knew back then, even with her initial reluctance towards you.

But now, as the two of you lay in your bed, a tangle of limbs that leaves wonder where you start and Tara ends. Tara knows.

Not even the movie playing idly in the background helps quiet Tara’s thoughts. The last few days have meant so much to her, life with you is everything she didn’t know she needed.

Tara hates that she is having a hard time admitting that to herself, because even with the phone calls back home to her friends and Sam, she’s painfully reluctant to return.

Or maybe, she’s just grown comfortable being checked out of reality. Now knowing the comfort of your arms, your home, your people, your life. She likes normalcy. She likes the absence is stress, wondering if someone she knows will disappear in a month.

Tara is starting to worry that there’s a slight chance, her trauma is catching up to her, now that she has room to breathe. To love. To live.

Can she go home? Can she leave you? It’s already a miracle that she found you.

Well, technically, you found her. She simply cradles the gift that is your heart in the palm of her scarred hand.

Does she deserve it? She deserves to be happy, just like anyone else. But at what cost? Will it be worth it, if it’s not what she’s desperately hoping it to be? Will this break her? Will you break her?

“You’re thinking awful hard” you murmur softly, your hand that had been idly scratching her back affectionately comes up to dip your fingers under her chin. The small touch has Tara lift her head off your chest, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you fully.

“I can’t be that predictable already”.

“Not at all, but you’ve got a giveaway” you say with a small smile.

That makes Tara scoff quietly, smacking your chest gently, which only makes you laugh as she protests “I do not!”

“You get this tension right here” you reach up to delicately trace the space between her eyebrows, “that and you haven’t made a single comment on the bad acting in this movie”.

She can’t help but smile at that, even as she rolls her eyes “yeah whatever”.

You’re analyzing her, she feels it, so she continues before you ask.

“What are we doing?”

Of course she expects a quip, sarcasm, a witty comment to ease her thoughts. Instead, you do better.

“I’d like to think there is a place where someone loves you both before, and after they learn what sustains you from the inside. And us-“ you pause, raising your hand with her palm pressed to yours.

“We’re just trying to find where that will home us, together” you trace her fingers with yours, captivated by the simple feeling of her skin against yours.

Tara never understood the depth of yearning for someone, anything. But when her eyes find yours, and finds just how deep your love for her runs, it hurts almost as much as it reassures her.

Which now begs the question: New York or Woodsboro? Somewhere in between?

“I can’t take you from your home”.

“Then you know I can’t ask the same of you” you reply just as softly, “I don’t care where-“

“Me either”.

A pause.

This pause, this moment of intimate silence, was a strange comfort, like a warm embrace on a cold night. There was no need for words, no need for argument. If there’s one thing you’ll never struggle with, is communicating, and that alone guarantees that eventually.

Eventually, you’ll come to a solution.

In this perfect, peaceful silence, there was an unspoken understanding between the two, an understanding that words alone could never express. It was a moment that transcended language, a moment that spoke in a language all its own, a language of trust, love, and connection.

It offered no resolute answer, and it doesn’t help that Tara flies home tomorrow.

But just maybe, right now, there didn’t need to be.

previous, next

[buggybambi]

So glad you're back!! Would you ever consider writing for Carmy x Richie's younger sister again?? I had an idea (if you want to write it, please dont overwhelm yourself) where reader and Carmen are fighting while reader is pregnant with their first baby and Carmen says something kinda mean to her and then she goes into laboro unexpectedly?! And seeing how Richie would react to that and be so defensive of his little sister 🥹

hi love! hope this is okay :) | fem!reader, mentions of a hospital, nicu stay/labor

You know he didn't mean it. Calling you stupid for showing up to the Bear that day when there was tools laying about, too many unknown people being around. He was just a worried soon-to-be dad, but that didn't make it easier.

Carmen was always protective over you, and now that you two had a baby on the way, it heightened. He was already on edge with the amount of repairs being done that day in the Bear, and the hazardous scene the restaraunt was in. He was just stressed out and took it out on you, like an idiot.

You didn't stick around to hear his apology after the words slipped out of his mouth. "Why are you being so difficult about this!? Showing up here was fucking stupid of you!" Nat took you outside to get you both away from each other, give you both some space to breathe. You could hear Carmen leave the restaraunt, disappearing to who knows where.

You sigh as you lean against the fence outside, gripping it with one hand. "He didn't mean it, it's just- there's been a lot happening today. Like a lot. Our fridge guy couldn't come and then a health inspection." Nat tried to explain. You were barely listening as your eyes squeezed shut. The pain in your abdomen and back you'd been briefly experiencing for the past few minutes had subsided as you let out an exhale. Syd stepped out at the same time.

"Hey, woah, you alright?" She asks. "Yeah, yeah sorry. Just Braxton Hicks. They just haven't been this intense." You answer. Syd stares at you both before clearing her throat. "I think your water just broke." She says.

You stare at her for a second, almost laughing. "Funny, Syd, but this isn't the time-" You look down and realize she's right. Your water just broke. "No, no, no it's too soon. We don't.. Carmen has to be here. You say, your voice filled with panic.

"Honey, I don't think you have a choice. Let's go to the hospital, okay? Syd, call Richie and Carmen, tell them to meet us at Chicago West." Nat takes your hand, helping you walk around the corner to her car, where she proceeds to break more then a few traffic laws.

"Who the fuck are you to talk to my sister like that?" Richie demands. The two were going back and forth after Carmen got back to the restaraunt. "Richie, I'm not fucking doing this with you right now." Carmen argues.

Syd walks in, exhaling. "Do either of you check your phones?!" She asks. "I don't know, he's a dumbass." Richie comments as Carmen rolls his eyes.

"Mine's.." Carmen frantically searches his pockets. "It must be in my office. What's the matter?" He asks. Syd frowns. "Y/n went into labor outside, Nat took her to Chicago West. I've been trying to call you to get you there before you miss the birth."

Carmen's already out the door by the time she finishes talking.

────

"If Carmen misses this, I'm going to kill him." Nat comments as she puts a pillow under your back for support. You sigh, laying back. The room is mostly quiet, except for the beeping of equipment. Monitoring your heartrate, your baby's heartrate, your contractions. It feels surreal to watch them increase and decrease with spikes on the monitor.

"He won't miss this. He'll be here." You say, your voice laced with doubt. You knew if Sydney had gotten ahold of Carmen, he'd be speeding to the hospital. Your doctor had been trying to push back your labor as much as she can, but you knew you were about to start pushing soon.

"I really hope you're right. I'm gonna go get you more ice chips." She says, stepping out of the room. You stare at the heartbeat monitors before you hear a small knock on the door. You turn to find Carmen in the doorway. "Hi." He says softly.

You smile. "Hey. Nice of you to drop by." You say, waiting for him to come over to you. When he doesn't immediately, you hold your hand out for him. He practically runs, taking it. "I'm so sorry. For not being here and for what I said. I shouldn't have- you didn't deserve that."

You shake your head. "Carm, you're here now. I'm glad you are. I love your sister but she is not a good birthing coach." She comments as he laughs.

He presses a kiss to your head. "I'm here now." He says. You squeeze his hand lightly. "I know you are, Carmy." Nat smiles as she returns. "Good, you get to live. Here are your ice chips. Best of luck." She wishes, placing a kiss on your cheek.

You smile. "Thanks for being so helpful, Nat."

────

Within the next half hour, your baby boy was in the world. Laying on your chest, his tiny hand wrapped around Carmen's finger. "He's so perfect." Carmen whispers, his voice filled with such fondness.

You two decided on a name: Theodore "Teddy" Berzatto. He was perfect to you two. Your own little boy, your son.

Richie and the rest of the staff came by the hospital. You swooned over your big brother getting to hold your little boy. "He looks just like dad." Richie admits quietly. You nod. "He does. Looks like dad and Mikey." Carmen agrees.

Your son couldn't have been surrounded with more love.

[naturesapphic]

jw x r fluff req : sikowitz ships them and they’re always together in partner projects etc

The perfect play

Jade west x fem!reader

Warnings: cussing, fluff

A/n: this is from episode 7 season 3

“All right! Now let’s talk about the new play im directing!” Sikowitz says with a creepy smile on his face. “Do I get to star in it?” Jade asks and Andre immediately gets defensive. “Uh I think it’s mine turn to star in it.” Andre argues and then everyone starts to argue and get into a hissy fit while you just sat there playing with your hands. Jade sees this and gives you her keys to play with so you don’t pick your nails or skin. Sikowitz sees this and makes a mental note of it. He secretly ships you and Jade together and with his new play he’s making, he knows just how to spice things up.

“This time, you people will choose your own roles.” Sikowitz says as he grabs a little box and hands it to Andre and beck. They are playing as twins and Andre makes a funny comment about how the mom has some explaining to do which made everyone laugh. Sikowitz makes a annoying car sound and stops by jade and she picks “Walter swain. Loving husband of Nancy.” She said blankly. Then sikowitz makes more noises as he goes over to you and puts the box in front of your face. You put your hand inside the box and picked out a piece of paper that read “Nancy swain. Loving wife of Walter swain.” You read out loud.

You felt your cheeks heat up and you look over at Jade who still had a blank look on her face as she looked at you. You didn’t notice but when sikowitz walked away he had a big smile on his face as he was hoping that his plan will work. For the next past few days you and Jade have been hanging out so y’all could rehearse. You started to see a side of jade that you didn’t even think beck saw and you were grateful for it. Jade behind all of her tough and scary exterior was really just a hurt girl who just wants love and to be treated right. Jade and you were putting on y’all’s costumes before the play when sikowitz came over. “Are y’all ready? We will be starting in two minutes. Y’all got this!” He said quickly and yelled at cat to get him his coconut.

You walked out with Andre and beck onto the stage and started it the play. All eyes were on you and you definitely started to feel the nerves and pressure of it all now, but it went away when you heard the car door sound come on, signaling that Jade will be coming out. A few more minutes into the play and it was about over, Jade did the part where she pretends to fall asleep on your chest and she puts her full body weight onto you. “Honey? Wake up.” You say softly as jade shoots up looking around crazily “blastoff!” She exclaimed. “No. No you were saying I’m so…” you started and Jade cuts you off “oh right. You’re so good, gentle…how can you love a sleepy loser like me?!” She exclaimed and looked up dramatically. “You are no sleepy loser. You’re an astronaut.” You said lovingly as you hold onto her arm as you look at her with so much love in your eyes. “I love you.” Jade says as she looks deep into your eyes.

“I love you.” You replied and the scene was that you were supposed to hug but what you weren’t expecting was Jade to grab you by your waist and crash her lips onto yours. You kissed her back as you heard clapping and cheering in the background. The both of you pulled away and grabbed each others hands and bent forward. Out of the corner of your eye you see sikowitz clapping and cheering y’all on like a crazy person. The curtains were rolled, covering the stage and you looked at Jade once more. “Did you do that for the show or did you actually mean it…” you asked Jade, hoping that you will get the answer you are hoping for. “I meant it. Go on a date with me…please?” She silently begged at the end which made you smile because you know that THE Jade west never begs. “Of course we can. How about now since the play is over?” You said as you grabbed her hand and Jade followed you out of the school building to your car. You were gonna thank sikowitz later.

A/n: sorry anon that this took so long but I hope you enjoyed this! And I hope the rest of y’all enjoyed it too! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)

[tkachuktkaching]

Matthew Tkachuk returns to Edmonton as Public Enemy No. 1

Tkachuk spent the first six seasons of this NHL career with the Calgary Flames, combating in the Battle of Alberta, the decades-spanning rivalry in which the Flames and the Edmonton Oilers would bludgeon each other to the delight of neighboring fan bases. It's a feud that stands next to any geographic rivalry in sports based on its championship prestige, Hall of Fame talent and unwavering vitriol.

Tkachuk remembers those rivalry games well.

"I guess I know them more than probably most guys by playing in Calgary," Tkachuk said. "But we just had the one playoff series against them that they won, and played a bunch in the regular season. There's a lot of different guys over there now."

Calgary traded Tkachuk to the Panthers two years ago. He has returned to Edmonton twice since.

"I know last year I was booed every time I touched the puck. This year there was nothing, so I have no idea this time," he said.

How close did Tkachuk come to becoming an Oiler? Four years ago, he told TSN Radio that they appeared ready to draft him before Dubois went to Columbus.

"During the draft, on the draft floor, it was kind of a weird moment where some people at the Edmonton table -- you could ask them, they would probably deny it -- but they're kind of staring me down and kind of giving me some smiles. The only people that saw it were me and my mom. So we're like, 'All right, we're going to Edmonton,'" he said. "Then Pierre-Luc Dubois went third overall, and the phone started to ring like crazy at the Edmonton table. They threw the jersey under the table and it looked like they stripped off a name and gave it to Puljujarvi with the next pick."

Tkachuk was drafted sixth overall by the Flames. The rest is (alternate) history.

TKACHUK SAID HE HAD "kind of like a Christmas Eve feeling" before the Stanley Cup Final, giddy with anticipation for trying to win the Cup after the Panthers lost in the championship round last season to the Vegas Golden Knights.

When asked about the Oilers, there was no trash talk, no bulletin board material.

"They're a great team. Finally got to watch some of their games against Dallas, since we were playing every other night. It was good to watch their games," he said. "They played really well and ultimately deserved to win the West. It should make for a great final."

After Florida went up 2-0 in the series with its Game 2 victory, Tkachuk was asked if the Oilers were rattled.

Again, he deferred.

"No, I don't think so. It's just sometimes the way it goes," he said, before leaving the media scrum.

The story of Matthew Tkachuk vs. the Edmonton Oilers is also a story of a young, brash superstar at the apex of his brashness who says he's a much different player today. Tkachuk speaks with pride about what he perceives to be the Panthers' maturity as a team and his own discipline on the ice, in contrast with how he'd played in the Battle of Alberta, for example.

"I'd say that used to be a part of my game. Now it's pretty nonexistent," he said. "I've kind of learned what works, and what works is playing as hard as I can for 30 to 45 seconds -- well, sometimes I take the long shift, so 30 seconds to a minute. There's no need to waste your time doing extra stuff."

Panthers coach Paul Maurice has cited the 26-year-old Tkachuk's maturity throughout the season, starting with how he approached this campaign after Florida's stunning run to the Stanley Cup Final last season.

Maurice said Tkachuk was part of the leadership group that got the Panthers locked in to their defensive game this season, which was a byproduct of missing Aaron Ekblad and Brandon Montour at the start of 2023-24 after surgeries. He said Tkachuk's attitude from the start of training camp help set the efficient, business-like tone of Florida's approach.

"Last year, I think we were just kind of riding the wave," Tkachuk said before the conference finals. "Going into this, we know what it's going to take to ultimately come out on top."

Tkachuk is tied with Aleksander Barkov with 19 points to lead all Panthers scorers. He hasn't had the soaring moments as regularly as he did last playoff run.

But Maurice is confident that Tkachuk is still capable of them.

"His game is better. He's more disciplined. He's matured with this group over two years. I think he's ... primed," the coach said. "I would never bet against him coming up with some heroics, but it's certainly not the only thing we have to expect now when we come to the rink from him."

Article taken from espn.com I Photos : Getty Images

[glorious-spoon]

he speaks the languages of love [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie | 1/1]

he speaks the languages of love

4k words | Explicit established relationship | phone sex

-

Eddie has been in Texas for nearly two weeks, and Buck has been extremely patient about it, in his opinion. True, it's possible that none of his coworkers would agree with that assessment, but in his defense, he's been existing in a state of sexual frustration not seen since Eddie shoved him against a wall and stuck his tongue down his throat after that close call with the cruise ship back in April.

"Good to know where I rate," Eddie says when Buck tells him this on their phone call the night before he's supposed to come home. He's just come off a twenty-four, so Chris is over at Pepa's and he's back at the loft. The lonely, empty loft.

"I mean it's not just that," Buck protests. "I do actually miss you."

Eddie snorts. "Is that why you bit Ravi's head off earlier today when he was talking about his date staying over?"

"You heard about that, huh?"

"No shit," Eddie says, laughing. "You didn't notice that we work with the biggest gossips on the West Coast?"

"Okay, well, first of all, I apologized for that—"

"Uh huh."

"And also, Hen blows things out of proportion."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds like Hen."

"Okay, fine," Buck admits. "I've been kind of a dick. She threatened to drown me in a washing machine earlier, and honestly, I probably deserved it."

"A washing machine?"

"This guy got stuck—it was a whole thing." He flops back on the bed, staring up at his empty ceiling in his empty loft. "Feels weird being at work without you there."

"I'll be back for our next shift."

"Yeah, I know," Buck sighs. "So, I mean. It's not just sexual frustration, for the record."

"Sure. I just think maybe it's a good thing Chris will be at school so he doesn't have to see you jump me the minute I get back."

"Well, when you put it like that," Buck admits. Eddie laughs, and he adds, "Okay, but you gotta understand, this is like—six months of finally actually getting to put my hands on you, and then I have to go cold turkey for two weeks? It's hard."

"In every sense of the word, I guess," Eddie says, because he's never met a dumb joke he didn't love. Buck groans, laughing.

"You're such an asshole."

"Uh huh. So you're saying you don't want to fuck me into the mattress when I get back?"

"Okay, I didn't say that."

"That's what I thought."

"I do want to, for the record. I've always wanted to. From, like, day one."

Eddie laughs warmly in his ear. "You're so full of it."

"Am not."

"You hated my guts the first day we met."

"Yeah," Buck admits. He yawns, then smears a hand over his mouth. It's late. They should probably both get some sleep. It's just that he really never wants to stop talking to Eddie, especially now that he's two thousand miles away instead of in Buck's bed, where he belongs. "I kinda did. You were infuriatingly perfect."

A snort. "Right."

"Still wanted to fuck you, though."

There's a couple of beats of silence. Then Eddie says, "Yeah?"

-

Continue reading on AO3

[wtf-a-psychoanalysis]

ULTRASONA REVEALED

Ultraman Stage, the ultraman on the other side of the ring of fire.

He's in Ultraman Rising Universe to justify some timer mechanics

Age: early 20s (younger than Ken by some years)

Height: 50 meters (Actually 45 meters just "hovers" all the time, abuses his flight privileges all the time.)

Named after signature move that moves both combatants 5-8 meters above ground level using a light/spacium barrier for 3 minutes leading to disorientation of the enemy and reduced ground damage. He's an ultra(?) hybrid who now defends the West Coast some time after Ken leaves for Japan. Turns out SoCal has perfect conditions to grow Kaiju. Discovered this power trying to fight a Gesura whilst walking home from karaoke.

He doesn't talk, relying on pantomiming, body language and dramatics to convey meaning. He doesn't like his voice bc he feels that it doesn't fit him. And it ensures everyone can understand since not every one speaks English or Spanish. Outside of fights he's quite reserved and stares. The only time he speaks is to activate Stage and signal Curtain Call

The noises he does makes are usually grunts, and mimicking his monster opponents.

He's very defensive and evasive when fighting mainly because he hates making a mess so he puts up barriers for minimal collateral damage. The "stage" is a last minute resort when he thinks someone is about to be squished. He also fights very meticulously inorder to avoid damaging surrounding buildings. This is also because he's not properly strong yet, poor diet and lack of training is a contributing factor to his lack of physical strength

If he's not feeling it he just shoos off a developing problem until it bites him in the ass.

Blue and silver body with gold accents invokes a night time vibe especially during the stage phase since looking from below the stage it looks like night.

Other than the basic spacium beams, razor and shielding techniques he has the following moveset.

Platform: Default hovering while walking and sitting down is called Platforming, it's not as intense as the Stage phase so it doesn't result in the countdown. It's an ongoing conscious process but does it all the time bc he's just really scared of messing shit up. Likes to walk the beach using this technique.

Curtains: flexible shields that he puts up on surrounding buildings and himself, has the properties of fabric so instead of breaking it tangles and tears. Can be used to contain Kaiju and drape over buildings.

Curtain call- Not to be confused with Curtains, ALL shields, curtains and stages are shattered and his power is depleted lasting 3 minutes. He must de transform before the 3 minutes are up. Often uses this time to clean up

Color Timer is like the moon phases counting down in yellow during the Stage phase. It just flashes red during Curtain Call

In practice he can last transformed longer than 6 minutes as long as Stage isn't invoked. Literally sat thru a baseball game and a concert as Ultraman bc he could. Using Platforming to chill as much as he can.

There's this rivalry between Ultraman Kenji and Ultraman Stage mostly because of a sort of feeling of "what if?" On Ken's part.

They met when Ken was visiting the states again and Ken sees that Stage manages to kill a Kaiju,

When they do meet, Stage is immediately threatened by the "original" (since he didn’t have the resources *money and ultra parent* like Kenji)

He relies on the fact people don't know what the fuck he is, in desperate measures cries when upset so he uses that to shift public perception.

*gets punched by Ken and starts to cry*

Ken: Are you crying?!

Jeers from LA

*Stage gets his shit rocked by Emi with the metal bat*

Ken: EMI NO!

Eventually Kenji does give his blessing to stage to keep the area safe and some fighting tips

Ken: We never really got over that language barrier

Stage: its not your fault

Ken: TF You speak English?

[oeldeservesthenorris]

I absolutely despise that know-it-all blowhard Thomas Drance, so I rarely acknowledge his "insight", but for once he got it right and as an FYI so, enjoy this copy and paste article from The Athletic cause I really don't like to give them any more $$ than I have to:

Drance: Why Quinn Hughes has something to prove — ‘A lot of guys don’t watch the West’

SUNRISE, Fla. — There’s a quiet intensity to Quinn Hughes. It’s always been there, simmering a bit beneath the surface.

When it comes out, at least in terms of his public commentary, it’s expressed with almost stunning clarity.

Hughes lives hockey. His family lives hockey. There’s a reason he’s one of the smartest defenders in the game today, and it’s because he knows this sport inside and out. He tracks obscure records, he’s aware of the statistics and the conversation around the league, and yes, he noticed where he stood in recent lists of the best players in the NHL compiled both by ESPN and The Athletic.

“Oh yeah, I saw the lists, but I’m not going to comment on it,” Hughes said Saturday after playing his best game of the season, and perhaps the most complete single game of his career, in the Vancouver Canucks’ 5-3 victory over the Florida Panthers. “Maybe at the end of the year.”

Regardless of where Hughes ranked in the preseason lists, two things are certain moving forward. The first is that the Canucks’ first-year captain is clearly out to prove something this season: that he’s among the NHL’s best defensemen and that he can lead this team to the playoffs.

The second is that if he plays like this consistently, and if this team succeeds on his back the way they did on Saturday night, Hughes’ two-way play and his standing as a dominant blueliner will be completely undeniable.

Hughes, after all, was dominant on Saturday. In a game that featured a legitimate MVP candidate in Matthew Tkachuk, a perennial Selke nominee in Aleksander Barkov and Vancouver’s two near-40-goal scorers in Elias Pettersson and Andrei Kuzmenko — who broke the game open in multiple instances — Hughes was the best player on the ice. And it wasn’t close.

He had the game on a string and dictated the pace in all phases of the contest.

When the Canucks built their lead in the second period, it was Hughes who kept the puck alive on a Panthers clearing attempt, then walked the line when he retrieved the puck and uncorked a shot through multiple layers of the Panthers defense. His shot caused chaos in the Panthers crease and Florida took a penalty. Soon after, Vancouver took the lead.

Then as the Panthers pressed, dominating play in the third period, it was Hughes who proved capable of calming down the game. On multiple occasions he got in on the hands of Panthers wingers Carter Verhaeghe, Evan Rodrigues and Sam Reinhart along the wall, cleanly stripping them of the puck and turning play in the other direction.

It wasn’t perfect, and as the Panthers cranked up the pressure on Vancouver, Hughes was on the ice for a goal against. It was the first goal against that Hughes had been on the ice for all season. He’d logged 115:40 of total ice time in all situations to open the campaign before an opponent scored against the Canucks while he was on.

That may seem like an obscure stat, but it’s another one Hughes was aware of and tracking.

“Do you know that was the first goal against you were on the ice for this season?” I asked him postgame.

“Yeah, I was keeping track of that. By myself. I wanted to see how long I could go with that one,” Hughes admitted.

“Do you know how long you went?”

“Well, I know I went four games, 25 minutes a game, so that would be 100 … oh but wait, it’s only five-on-five …”

“Oh, I have the number for everything.”

“Whatever. OK, I was only tracking five-on-five. You counting everything?”

“Yeah, it’s 115:40.”

“Oh man, I was going to guess 118.”

“Pretty close, so you’re all over it.”

“Of course, I mean, I always hear it,” Hughes responded thoughtfully, that old chip on the shoulder beginning to show. “Y’know how it is. ‘He’s an offensive defenseman, but he’s not good at defending.’ And I’ve been plus the last two years, and playing big minutes. So for me, the stereotype is there. A lot of guys don’t watch the West, but I’m out here trying to do the best I can.”

Obviously, Hughes’ best is sensational, and not just offensively. Even traditional plus-minus — which dings a player with Hughes’ offensive profile given that he eats fake dashes for short-handed goals against and empty net goals deposited against Vancouver when it’s trailing — underrates his contributions. The simple fact of the matter is that last season when Hughes was on the ice five-on-five, the Canucks outscored their opponents 81 to 61 — for an on-ice goal differential of plus-20 (a far better statistic since it doesn’t arbitrarily mix game stats). When Hughes was taking a breather, Vancouver was outscored 88 to 131.

Or to put it simply, for those in the Eastern time zone: When Hughes was on the ice five-on-five over roughly 1,500 minutes, the Canucks outscored their opponents at a rate comparable to (and actually better than) what the Vegas Golden Knights accomplished as a team last season. When Hughes wasn’t on the ice five-on-five, Vancouver was outscored at a rate comparable to what the Anaheim Ducks accomplished as a team last season.

“He does some stuff though that’s world class,” said Canucks head coach Rick Tocchet postgame. “And when he defends, he defends with quickness. And that’s OK — he can still win a Norris defending with quickness, you don’t have to kill a guy in the corner.

“I think Huggy, he’s got a little chip on his shoulder about (the idea) that he can’t defend,” Tocchet added later in his postgame briefing. “About the idea that he’s just an offensive defenseman and no, he can defend. And I like that.”

Honestly, it’s past time for Hughes’ savvy, well-rounded, two-way game to begin to garner the respect it’s due.

Of course, it also speaks to the extent to which Hughes’ control of the proceedings in Sunrise on Saturday night jumped right off of the ice sheet that we’ve yet to mention his goal — his first of the season — which opened the scoring.

The goal came after Hughes made one of the most preposterous keep-ins at the blue line that I’ve ever witnessed live; an absolute marvel of hand-eye coordination on which the broadcast angle on the play — which still captured how impressive the play was — did the degree of difficulty zero justice.

Later in the shift, Hughes received a pass from J.T. Miller, changed the angle on the wrist shot and stepped into that first goal.

“Walking the blue line and shooting, he’s got a couple of moves that he worked on this summer,” Tocchet said when asked about how dominant Hughes was on Saturday night in South Florida. “Man, he worked a lot, I don’t know if people realize how much he worked. I don’t want to tell you what he does, I’m not going to give the other team a pre-scout.

“I’m not trying to put pressure on him, but his capability of walking the blue line is outstanding.”

Hughes’ newfound shooting mentality has been one of the most noticeable evolutions in his game in the early going this season. Through five games, Hughes is averaging north of three shots per game and nearly an additional shot-and-a-half per contest above his career average going into this season.

“I’m shooting more for sure, but it’s more about putting myself in spots where I can beat a guy and then shoot,” Hughes said. “Connecting my feet and my hands, beating a guy. In the past when I’d beat a guy, I wouldn’t be in a position to shoot it. I’m focused in on that now.”

Of course, there’s a balance. Hughes’ best skill is his passing and on a team loaded with world-class finishers, there’s a balance he has to strike in terms of distributing the puck. Of course, that’s a balance that comes naturally to a signal caller of Hughes’ calibre.

“I think the more I shoot, the more will open up,” Hughes said when I asked him if his new shooting mentality could open up additional passing lanes. “It’s more than my shot, it’s rebounds and tips. But on the power play, pre-scout, if I’m shooting a bit more they have to worry about that.

“That said, I have to be aware. Like would you rather my shot or Petey’s slap shot? It’s going to be Petey’s slap shot every time. And his slap shot opens up my shot, and when that happens, I’m going to try and use it.”

While Hughes managed to beat Sergei Bobrovsky with a point blast for his first of the year, his evolution as a shooter is about more than just his goal on Saturday. It’s that, in truth, he could have two or three already in this young season.

“Honestly, I think I could’ve scored in every game,” Hughes said. “I know the exact plays, too. I could’ve scored in Philly, I should’ve scored in Edmonton, I hit the post in Philly, but I also had a mini breakaway and should’ve just tried to go five-hole. I know I’m getting my looks so I know it’s going to come. And I’m getting more looks because of my mindset.”

Getting his first goal of the year was also something of a weight off of his shoulders. It took him until Dec. 27 last season to score his first of the campaign.

When he finally scored, he was nearing an ignominious record. It was a milestone Hughes was aware of, though it received little meaningful media coverage as it approached.

“It feels good (to score my first), I mean obviously I almost broke the record last year,” Hughes said when asked how he viewed his first goal.

“Huh, what record?” I interrupted, confused.

“Most games by a guy scoring a point per game without a goal.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. No, I think I was two or three games away, and that’s not a record you want to break.”

“Wait, were you tracking that?”

“No, but the trainers were busting my balls about it.”

There will be no ignominious goal-less milestones for Hughes to sidestep this season. And no ignoring Hughes’ dominance — on offence and in his own end, too — if he keeps playing like this.

[indestructibleheart]

Hi, fam! Okay, so I'm going to be out at an appointment tomorrow morning, so I'm kicking this off a little bit early. It's technically Wednesday in several timezones and very nearly Wednesday in mine. I'm... also a bit eager to share this, ngl.

I know that I've shared a lot of angst lately, but I swear that's not all I'm doing. 😅 In fact, the actor/playwright AU decided to wallop me in the face out of nowhere after sitting in my WIP folder for months. I'm really excited about it, so I'm gonna share the first scene!

(Also, those of you who have been to New York with me will recognize my favorite brunch spot in this scene lmao.)

---

You probably didn't even know I was in the room, but I noticed you straight away. You were talking with your friends, happy and animated and fully alive—a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access—and so beautiful. Your hair was longer then. You were the center of attention, but you weren’t afraid. You had a yellow ipê-amarelo in your pocket. I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen; I'd better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire.

INT. MOM'S KITCHEN & BAR - HELL'S KITCHEN - LATE MORNING

"I'm telling y'all," Alex is saying, punctuating with dangerously large bites of his pancake burrito. "The dude's a dick." 

It's been two hours since the nightmare audition, but Alex has been on this tirade since June and Nora first slid into the retro diner chairs across from him (at least forty-five minutes ago).

They're at Mom's: a restaurant-bar in midtown that can only be described as millennial nostalgia incarnate. The trio fell in love with it two years back—post-karaoke, stumbling in right before closing—when Alex saw God in their Fruity Pebble pancakes.  Since then, it's been his favorite place to eat his feelings.

Mom's is just really fucking comforting in general, honestly; whether it's the televisions cycling through episodes of 'Rugrats,' 'Dexter's Laboratory,' and 'Hey, Arnold!' or  the rainbow straws and Lisa-Frank-looking menus, Alex can't be sure. It doesn't hurt that they've made friends with several of the waitstaff, including an eccentric bartender, Pez, whose pink hair and painted nails fit right in with the decor. 

Today, it's the combination of breakfast sausage, bacon, eggs and cheese wrapped up in a syrup-soaked pancake that's really doing something for him. It could also be the margarita the size of his face, which Pez placed in front of him before making himself uncharacteristically scarce. But it's fine. He's probably just busy.

Alex won't admit it out loud, but what really helps is having June and Nora here to talk to… even though Nora is scrolling on her phone.

"I'm sorry," June says. She pokes an ice cube with her straw, and Alex watches as it bobs around her mimosa like a buoy. "That sounds like it sucked, but if he's really that rude… maybe you didn't want to work with him anyway."

Nora doesn't look up as she pops a home fry into her mouth. 

"Several sources say he's difficult to work with," she adds, evidently reading about Henry on the internet. "Though, in his defense, his dad did just die, like, three years ago… and there was that whole thing when he came out after. Remember?"

Alex does remember. Henry's grandmother, Mary Mountchristen, runs a pretty major company that used to own half the theatres on the West End. When Henry came out last year, she tried blacklisting his shows from her properties to punish him—which totally backfired when it got around. At least a dozen other queer writers and producers started talking about how they were also denied the space, and Mary was stoned on the streets of the theatre district. Like, metaphorically. 

Alex, Nora, and June had just moved to New York, but between June's position at Newsday and both Alex and Nora on the audition circuit, it was all anyone in their new circles could talk about. They were some of the first to know when the Mountchristens were bought out of their properties and Henry moved to the States.

This show is the first of Henry's being produced here—and it's autobiographical, which Alex has to admit is pretty fucking baller. So, yeah, Nora's not wrong. He has reason to be standoffish. Still, it doesn't explain why Alex was only halfway through his audition monologue when Henry abruptly stood up and exited stage left as if pursued by a bear.

He shoves another forkful into his mouth. "It's just, like, they're the only people who let me into the room," he says, barely finishing chewing. "Nobody wants to take me seriously, and I really thought this was my shot, you know?"

June and Nora both know Alex is having a hard time landing serious roles after growing up on a sitcom—Nora more than most, as his former co-star. What they don't know is that losing this role, specifically, feels like a kick to the stomach. From the moment Alex saw the script, he wanted to be a part of it. He can't even explain why, and now he'll never figure it out. Henry wouldn't give him a chance.

"It wasn't your only shot, and you know it." Nora fixes him with a look. "Seriously, I get it—I do—but it's just one play, buddy."

June nods. "Something will happen for you, baby brother."

At that, Alex finally groans. "Okay, calling me baby brother doesn't help me feel better about the entertainment industry infantili—"

"—itty bitty, teeny weeny—"

Alex throws a home fry at her face. 

It bounces off her forehead and into the giant gauntlet holding her mimosa with a very unappetizing splash. Just as Alex throws his hands into the air with a victorious whoop, his phone buzzes on the table. 

A glance is all it takes for him to see that it's his agent, Zahra.

"Damn," he says, deflating. There goes that upswing. "You answer it."

June balks. "Me?"

"I don't need to hear how fucking badly it went. Trust me, I got the message." Alex blinks innocently, like he's six years old again, asking her to lie to their mom about that broken vase. "Please, Bug? Besides, Zahra actually likes you."

"Everyone likes me." June rolls her eyes, but she caves—answering the phone with a haughty, "Alex Claremont-Diaz's office," before breaking into a smile. "Yeah, Z. It's me… No, Alex is feeling a little sensitive today."

(He throws another home fry at her. This one misses.)

To her credit, June's face remains totally blank as Zahra no doubt tells her how Alex insulted Henry Fox's name and all of his inbred ancestors just by showing up, or whatever—which is extremely annoying and unhelpful—but, once she says goodbye and sets the phone back down on the table, her face breaks out into a grin.

"Guess you didn't suck too bad," she says. "They want you for the part."

He doesn't know if it's Nora throwing herself at him or the shock that knocks him onto the floor.

Tagging some lovelies. If you haven't been tagged and you want to be, consider this your tag!

@anchoredarchangel, @barbiediaz, @cha-melodius, @cricketnationrise, @guillermosfamiliar, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @hippolotamus, @inexplicablymine, @jettestar, @junebugclaremontdiaz, @kiwiana-writes, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @missgeevious, @mulderscully, @myheartalivewrites, @ninzied, @nontoxic-writes, @notspecialbabe, @priincebutt, @rmd-writes, @rosedavid, @three-drink-amy, @treluna4, @vanillahigh00, @welcometololaland, @orchidscript, @ships-to-sail, @stereopticons

[lonelinessinthemirrordimension]

You’re my best friend

Hobie Brown • They/Them Pronouns • Just a couple of besties in the spider society giving mentors a hard time while also making the best of the time they get together. Even when shit hits the fan • SFW/Smol ANGST • TW: Some tragic backstories mentioned / Minor Injuries / Miguel being Miguel

For @cabinofcontentment

“The big angry panther really wants me on this anomaly?” Hobie scoffs walking beside Jessica on their way to the briefing room.

“Yes and I thought you would be a little more excited for this one”

“Now why is that?” The punk tilts his head a bit curious, but was met with annoyance from one of his mentors.

“Hobie. You don’t read the anomaly reports before these meetings do you?” Jessica asks watching that devilish smile of his emerge. “Alright. Well you’ll enjoy your partner on this one, they have not shut up about their excitement”

“Now I’m curious on who it—-“

“Hobie!” The familiar voice was music to his ears watching the figure run out of the darkness in Miguel’s office into the light revealing Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The spider person of Earth-838. A universe that is prepared for most problems that may or may not arise. So why have a Spiderman in this universe? Well shit still happens at a level that doesn’t concern the Illuminati. Leaving it to Y/N to take care of where they reside in the West Coast.

Hobie has always admired them since they’ve joined spider society around the same time he did. They were a chaotic little spitfire with their dark silver suit with sea-foam accents on their arms and legs. Then the outlier of the deep red spider sprawled on their back. They were one of the few organic spider people, he grew to know and that arachnid gracing their shoulders is a part of the organic webbing and improved vision. If you think about Spiderman from Earth-199999 and his suit’s self defense system “Kill mode”, that’s what they have. Except it’s infused to their spine and comes out whenever they need it. Never for killing though. That’s a bit extreme don’t you think?

But Y/N wasn’t in their suit for that meeting. They had been called for a briefing in the middle of one of their self care days.

“Are you exciting for this anomaly? We are helping Spider-cat in his universe!”

“Oh I didn’t—-“

“Yeah I figured. I’ll catch yea up enough so Miguel doesn’t have a tantrum” Y/N smiles about to inform Hobie but they couldn’t help but notice the laugh they got out of Jessica. “Oh Ben owes me ten bucks” they smile even more when Jessica playful glared at them to the whispered comment while Hobie chuckles to himself.

Hobie was informed enough by Y/N’s standards when they reached Miguel’s floating pad. He instantly knew the man would be in a mood and a clear give away was the eight legs sprouting out of Y/N’s back launching them off the ground high enough to avoid the computer panel Miguel had thrown their direction.

“Aye. We don’t need an in work injury now do we?” Hobie scoffs as Y/N hops back down from the ceiling feeling Jessica’s hand rest on their shoulder once their tense expression subsided.

“You are late. Y/N could’ve taken care of it by now”

“Right. Well. Are you going to speak or continue to have a fit?”

“Just. Y/N get suited and you two head the fuck out already. If you need backup, Jess is on call” Miguel sighs turning away from them to return to his personal anomaly search.

The three headed out of the room not even after five minutes of being in there. Guess Miguel wanted his frustration taken out on someone almost in a literal physical sense. Hobie watches Y/N stretch their back slightly once the legs retracted, noticing how they pierced through what seemed to be a new jacket.

“You heard Miguel. You need backup, I’m there” Jess reminds the two before going to check up on her new mentees.

“He seemed a bit miffed this mornin’” Hobie comments on his behavior while following Y/N to one of the locker rooms so that they can get suited up given he was already.

“I heard a rumor that he found more information about the 42 anomaly. Before you and Jess came, he was talking about it with me…then got pissed and tossed his cup of coffee at me that time”

“…Alright?” The concern in his voice shot right through them as they instantly grabbed his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m okay” Y/N smiles before pushing him back playfully, entering the locker room to get suited up.

Entering Spider-cat’s universe was exciting for Y/N given they were curious if it was all cats or only animals. Like the movie zootopia, something they watched from someone else’s universe, except not humanoid. It was the first one. All cats.

“You can’t take one home” Hobie spoiled their seeded plan knowing Y/N was pouting behind their mask. “Let’s find Peter before—-“

Suddenly a cat tree that was made into a building barreled its way toward Hobie and Y/N, Hobie quickly taking his guitar and strumming loud enough to rapture the building while Y/N had quickly moved the cats out of the way of the fallen debris.

“WHY AM I IN A PLACE FULL OF FUCKING FELINES?!” A Doc Ock anomaly was their target as his tentacles grabbed building after building and tossing them all over the place while Spider-cat quickly webbed them up to avoid any of them hitting other cats.

“Isn’t the story of Spider-cat a bit gruesome?”

“Different spider-cat. There’s 3 from what I understand. But one isn’t actually a spider person.” Y/N informs as they started to make their way to help Spider-cat take care of the Doc Ock with Hobie following shortly behind.

As Doc Ock continued to toss the buildings toward now 3 spider people, Y/N did their best to latch their web onto them and quickly swing them back toward the villain as Hobie started to grab cat after cat directing them carefully away from the commotion even if it meant tossing a few into a big web he made.

“This guy torturing cats!” Y/N groans as their legs formed from their back to help them move quickly against the building.

Spider-cat let out an angered hiss toward Hobie indicating he’s the one torturing the cats because again, he was tossing them into a web to avoid them getting hurt by the anomaly.

“Sorry, fella. I’ll take care of it when we’re done”

“More so I will. Since I know how to get rid of the webbing faster than most spider people” Y/N quickly comments as they launch themselves toward Doc Ock with an extreme force courtesy of their spider legs from their back.

But as they were retracting themselves back into place, Doc’s tentacle suddenly grabbed some of their legs forcing it out of Y/N before throwing them into a nearby building.

“Y/N!” Hobie yells as he quickly picked up the pace in his step taking his guitar and knocking the doc off his feet noticing the webbing latched onto his ankles.

Soon the doc was dragged through his own mess and lifted off the ground, both Hobie and Spider-cat watching Y/N had gotten themselves out of the rubble tugging on the anomaly throwing the doc over them and harshly into the ground. Enough to knock the villain out. When the two came over and Spidercat took care of tying the villain up, Hobie noticed Y/N shaking a bit.

“Hey—Y/N, are you alright, mate?” Hobie tried to get them to respond but given when he tried to lay a comforting hand, they retracted. “Alright. Alright…Come on my feline friend. Let’s clean up this rubbish”

While the two took care of such, Y/N took the trap Miguel invented to secure Doc Ock and have him transported back to the spider society watching him disappear before going through the rubble making sure no one left anything. But also picking up two of their legs that the villain managed to actually rip out of their back.

“Lyla?”

“Yes Y/N?” The small hologram appeared by their head and instantly took note of the situation. “You should be seen at spider society immediately. Has this happened before?” She asks watching them shake their head as she didn’t wait to call in Jess to help Hobie and spider-cat clean up.

Hobie never liked this part of the job, cleaning up in a sense was simply taking care of whatever the anomaly may have left. Having to leave the destruction of the universe to the locals. But after doing his part and taking in a few locals’ attention by giving them pets, Hobie watched a portal open revealing Jess.

“Oy!” Hobie calls out to gain her attention as she let Lyla do a quick scan of the area. “Why are you here?”

“Lyla sent Y/N back. Did you not see what happen?” Jess questions Hobie who was just as confused as she was, hoping that he’d give her some answers.

Next thing the two knew, Spider-cat trotted his way over and meowed into his watch which lead to the scene being played out for them. Hobie’s normally neutral expression went to anxiety watching Doc Ock grab Y/N by their spider legs and tearing two off when tossing them.

“Fucking hell…”

“Shit. Lyla do a scan of the scene for…yeah. Then we’ll call it—-“ Jess turns to watch Hobie leave through a portal making her sigh. “I can’t be mad at him”

“Everything is cleaned up. All Spider-cat’s deal now”

“Alright. I gotta go check on my kid” Jess refers to anyone she mentors as her kids, Y/N being one of them.

Entering spider society, Hobie looked around for his partner not finding them in any of the places he’d think they would be. Even went to the infirmary and couldn’t find them there. Next thing he knew, a hand through a portal grabbed the back of his guitar strap pulling him through and into the universe with Earth-838.

“Why did you go to the society first?” Jessica caught him off guard as most injuries would get reported.

“Thought they’d be there”

“Their injuries were too much for our docs to handle so they went to the Illuminati of their universe to get checked out.”

“How do you—-“

“Do you not use any of the utilities at the society?”

The punk instantly gave her a deadpan look to her question as Jessica couldn’t believe she even asked that.

Y/N’s universe knew about the multiverse and took care of anomalies in their own way. But given their connection with spider society with the help of their own spider, the worry was very small for incursions.

The two walked through the Illuminati building and was met with Dr. Palmer and her infectious smile.

“They’re alright. The arachnid in their spine is similar to a few species that are able to regenerate their legs. So they’ll be back in a few weeks” Palmer shows an x-ray of their back to Jess while Hobie decided to slip past them. “But it will be painful and best if they don’t be on call for a while”

“I agree. We have enough capable individuals to cover for their time. What did you do with—“

“Y/N buried them. We aren’t going to question it, even if Richards wants to desperately.” Palmer laughs leading Jess to the main laboratory watching Richards getting his hands smacked away from Hobie as he was sat beside Y/N who was trying to hide in the rafters. “Reed. Cmon. Give them a break”

“I wanted to check the hematoma before they returned home. But this one is being rather annoying” Reed sighs only to be smacked in the head by a boot. “Excuse me!”

“Hobie!” Jess exclaims as both Hobie and Y/N pretend like nothing had happened. “Are you serious?!”

“What? He was botherin’ my favorite person. Just doing everybody a favor”

“By throwing your shoe at Mr. Richards?!”

“Who says it was my shoe?” Hobie flipped himself to hang upside down from the beam they were sitting on as Y/N did the same thing mimicking him before slipping slightly. They were on pain killers from the pain and it wasn’t a good idea to do their spider shenanigans. But when they fell, Hobie quickly webbed them and carefully setting them on the floor.

“Okay hun, how about let’s not get any more injuries and get you home” Jess laughs helping them up and removing the webs off them.

The two took care of getting Y/N home and Jess left Hobie alone with them for just a moment knowing he can’t stay in their universe for too long. Because of Miguel’s rules. But she wasn’t going to rat him out, she has a soft side for the both of them.

“Alright?” Hobie gently nudged their shoulder as they were sitting on the balcony of Y/N’s apartment overlooking the beach.

“Mhm. You…uhm. Gonna spend the night? I know it’s not your thing”

Hobie scoffs in a playful manner wrapping his arm carefully around their shoulders.

“You’re my best friend, dear” He smiles watching their eyes light up to what he’s to say next. “How could I say no to yea?”

[smilesatdawnmain]

so MK read journey to the west. Was he ever like "Wait a minute, is the Nezha I know and who took care of me ever since I was a child the same Nezha from the book ? Nah, he is just some random angel that trains me and has shown me 20 different ways to defeat my enemies. No biggie"

Wait, now I have gotten off topic. Ok ok, let’s start over:

Does MK know Nezha is the same form journey to the west ?

What exactly did this powerful celestial warrior teach the child of the monkey kid ?! Does MK know how to kill or take someone out, like make them unconscious? (Smal MK: „Daddy, Daddy Look. I know how to perfectly trow a knife and all the pressure points to make someone go to sleep" *Innocent smile*)

I only wanted to ask the first thing but I somehow started questioning MK‘s training 😂🙈

MK has honestly no clue Angel and “Nezha from JTTW” are the same XD

Monkey King is his favorite and unless Monkey King was involved or the main focus, he did kind of space or skim the book. He had a feeling Nezha is a celestial or godly like being- but doesn’t think much beyond that because he’s just content to be with his Angel as is :)

As for training, Nezha’s biggest goal was to teach MK self defense. He really tried to avoid teaching MK how to hurt others and just keep them at a distance.

When he got older they did do more combat offensive training with a staff and his new knife.

Never to kill though, just to disengage or knock out :) (pressure points too! But MK’s biggest strength is defense and basically dodging as that is what Nezha focused on. He would need a lot more training in offense and fighting though

…which a certain monkey prince can teach him~

next

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[usafphantom2]

SR-71 pilot recalls when his RSO Flipped Off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot (Then They lit their Blackbird’s Afterburners and Outran him)

The SR-71 Blackbird

The SR-71 reconnaissance aircraft was the world’s fastest jet-propelled aircraft and the most advanced member of the Blackbird family developed by Lockheed Aircraft Corporation’s clandestine “Skunk Works” division.

The Blackbird was in a different category from anything that had come before. “Everything had to be invented. Everything,” Skunk Works legendary aircraft designer Kelly Johnson recalled in an interesting article appeared on Lockheed Martin website.

The speed of the SR-71 exceeded 2,000 mph. Other planes of the era could, in theory, approximate that speed but only in short, after-burner-driven bursts. The Blackbird maintained a record-setting speed for hours at a time.

Cool Video Explains how SR-71 Blackbird’s J58 Turbo-Ramjet Engine Works

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. SR-71A Blackbird 61-7972 “Skunkworks”

One of the most entertaining stories about flying the Blackbird comes from Lt. Colonel William Burk Jr., who shares about a particular mission he flew [according to SR-71 pilot Stormy Boudreaux, Tom Henichek was Burk’s RSO for that mission] over Lebanon back in 1982 in the book Skunk Works by Ben Rich.

Blackbird over Lebanon

‘In the fall of ’82, I flew from Mildenhall on a mission over Lebanon in response to the Marine barracks bombing. President Reagan ordered photo coverage of all the terrorist basis in the region. The French refused to allow us overfly, so our mission profile was to refuel off the south coast of England, a Mach 3 cruise leg down the coast of Portugal and Spain, left turn through the Straits of Gibraltar, refuel in the Western Mediterranean, right turn into Lebanon and fly right down main street Beirut, exit along the southern Mediterranean with another refueling over Malta, supersonic back out the straits, and return to England.

‘Because Syria had a Soviet SA-5 missile system just west of Damascus that we would be penetrating (we were unsure of Syria’s intentions in this conflict), we programmed to fly above 80,000 feet and at Mach 3 plus to be on the safe side, knowing that this advanced missile had the range and speed to nail us.

SR-71 pilot recalls when his RSO Flipped Off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot (Then They lit their Blackbird’s Afterburners and Outran him)

‘As we entered Lebanon’s airspace my Recon Systems Officer in the rear cockpit informed me that our defensive systems display showed we were being tracked by that SA-5. About 15 seconds later we got a warning of active guidance signals from the SA-5 site. We couldn’t tell whether there was an actual launch or the missile was still on the rails, but they were actively tracking us. We didn’t waste any time wondering, but climbed and pushed that throttle, and said a couple of “Hail Kellys.”

SR-71 crew flipping off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot

‘We completed our pass over Beirut and turned toward Malta, when I got a warning low-oil-pressure light on my right engine. Even though the engine was running fine I slowed down and lowered our altitude and made a direct line for England. We decided to cross France without clearance instead of going the roundabout way.

‘We made it almost across, when I looked out the left window and saw a French Mirage III sitting ten feet off my left wing. He came up on our frequency and asked us for our Diplomatic Clearance Number. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I told him to stand by. I ask my backseater, who said, “Don’t worry about it. I just gave it to him.” What he had given him was “the bird” with his middle finger: I lit the afterburners and left that Mirage standing still. Two minutes later, we were crossing the Channel.’

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter X Page Habubrats SR-71, Instagram Page SR71Habubrats and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Habubrats for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

@Habubrats71 via X

[eretzyisrael]

by Peter Reitzes

t about two minutes and 20 seconds into the video, activists began encircling Moritz, Buckley, and Campbell.

While about 80 percent of the attendees were women, a group of large men stood over the pro-Israel attendees and loudly clapped their hands while yelling “Free Palestine.” The video then goes black while the audio continues with a clear struggle being heard.

According to video and interviews with those targeted at the event, an activist grabbed Buckley’s phone, instigating mob violence against the three pro-Israel attendees. She was reportedly punched, kicked, and stomped. Her phone was stolen and later found, having been thrown on nearby property.

All three pro-Israel attendees reported being dragged out of the library.

Campbell, an 80-year-old military veteran with cancer and a stent in his heart, was stomped, assaulted, and pushed to the ground, a footprint clearly visible on his shorts. His phone was also taken and later found in a trashcan. Local police encouraged Campbell to see a doctor.

“My arms are chewed up,” Campbell told The Algemeiner. For medical treatment he went to a US Veterans Affairs facility, which found he had “severe contusions.”

“What really upset me — I was laying on the floor and this big guy was on top of me,” Campbell said. “The librarian came to the door, looked me right in the eye, turned around and walked back and didn’t do a damn thing. Didn’t call the police.”

Moritz was badly beaten, a large welt clearly visible on his head. Once the activists got Moritz outside, one briefly put him in a headlock before he was able to break free. According to interviewees, police arrived and stated that while they received multiple calls, none were from library personnel.

According to Moritz, the man who put him in a headlock was allowed to leave even after the activist was pointed out to the police.

Buckley reported that when she was being dragged outside, the unmasked activist who seemingly recognized her from other local events repeatedly said, “Monica, just relax, don’t fight it.”

None of the activists in attendance came to the defense of the three pro-Israel attendees.

According to Buckley, one of the attendees was arrested. A police report confirms that one person was arrested at the library.

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Since a lot of people enjoyed the "Legolas bluescreening" joke in my Boromir post, have some further Fun Elf Lore from the books:

Even aside from the reality-bending stuff Galadriel and Elrond can do with their rings, elves casually disregard the laws of physics all the time. Legolas stands (and runs!) without sinking in snow that's chest-deep for Aragorn and Boromir. Elves can also sleep -or at least, gain the same benefits- while walking upright, an ability Legolas taps into several times while chasing the orcs that kidnapped Merry and Pippin.

Middle Earth used to be flat: you could sail west from the coast by the Shire and eventually hit the Undying Lands. Due to a long story of hubris, the gods got pissed and said "Fuck this, *unflats your earth*" and made the world a globe. Elves, however, were broadly exempted from this rule, which is both why they can still sail to the Undying Lands when no one else can and why they have such incredibly keen vision: they can ignore petty human concerns like "there's a horizon in the way" when sighting in on something.

The distinction between elf groups is broadly a matter of academic degree. Middle Earth was created via a Very Large Choir, which foretold the coming of Elves and Men (not dwarves: I'll get to that in a minute) but left the gods with a terribly long wait time until things actually happened. When Elves did finally show up, the gods were ecstatic and invited them all to hang out. The elves that went to the Undying Lands learned magic and wonders beyond mortal comprehension at the feet of Valar, which makes them automatically wiser and more powerful than the elves who loved Middle Earth more and never left. Basically, they went to Elf Uni and got a diploma while everyone else stayed home.

Galadriel was born and raised in the Undying Lands, and Elrond has a doctorate by descent, as does Arwen. No one from Mirkwood ever went to Elf Uni, which may partially explain why Thranduil is Like That.

"Wait why are the smart elves back in Middle Earth if they moved overseas?" A) Not all of them did come back and B) those that left the Undying Lands did so because Feanor involved them in a property dispute so big the Simarillion got named after it.

Who is Feanor, you ask? Feanor was an elf from the Undying Lands who made the shiniest bangingest blinging-est jewels to ever exist, and when they got stolen by Sauron's precursor/old boss Morgoth, he swore an oath to bind his entire line to the act of dire vengeance and dragged half the elven population of the Undying Lands back to Middle Earth after him in search of said gems. Morgoth also killed Feanor's dad on the way out after robbing him, but the patricide is mostly an afterthought to He Stole My Rocks!!!

If the elves of Middle Earth are involved with a non-Sauron-based conflict (and sometimes even when they are) there is a 98% chance that it is somehow, ancestrally, indirectly, the fault of Feanor and That Goddamn Oath. Except Mirkwood's beef with the Lonely Mountain -that's one of the sole outliers.

One of the first Elf-Men encounters was Galadriel's brother Finrod deciding that the best way to greet this new race was by sneaking into a warcamp full of sleeping humans and playing a harp solo to assure them of his harmlessness. This is objectively batshit, but it did in fact work, so Nat 20 for him I guess. He later died after being captured by Sauron; he was mortally wounded while fighting a werewolf in defense of a friend, which he managed to kill naked and weaponless. Another Nat 20, RIP.

Dwarves and elves tend to dislike each other due to Ancestral Curse of Thinking You Have Bad Vibes. Back during the long wait for sentient beings to show up, the smith god Mahal (Aulë to the elves) got impatient and made the seven dwarf lords. When Eru politely if frigidly asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, Mahal humbly explained that the wait was taking forever and he craved people to infodump at teach who shared his love of crafting. Eru felt that that was fair enough and accepted dwarves into the universal family, but added in admonition that "Since they're adopted, they and my eldest aren't going to get along. Also you have to put them back in a hole and wait for the elves to show up because you can't just jump the queue like that."

[ace-donovan]

Eli and Ace were huddled over the desk in the office. This office was empty apart from them, but Eli was speaking on the phone to someone, pointing at various entries to the blueprint that laid before them. Eli had skilled himself in being the face of the West Side Crew, under Ace’s request, but he still made sure that his decisions were the ones that Ace would give on his own. He glanced at Ace as he tried to narrow down the entryways they should take in the siege. “Tripp, you and Dallas need to enter on the north side of the courtyard. Let Sawyer and Tommy go through the west,” Eli said, getting a quick glance at Ace before finishing. “Yeah, let me know when it’s finished. Okay, bye.” 

Ending the call, Eli let out a sigh and sat down in the chair in front of the desk, letting Ace sit behind it where he belonged. “What’s got you worried?” Ace questioned his second in command, seeing the concern shadowing the man’s mouth. 

Eli perched himself on the edge of his chair, his eyes staring at the blueprints yet again. “I’m always worried about missions. Yeah, it's a clean sweep but still.” 

Ace nodded, understanding what he meant. He too was looking at the prints again, wondering if there was a better route instead. But deep in his gut, he knew they had planned the best course for his men to sneak into the building without being detected by any of the Los Lobos. “I wouldn’t have said anything differently than you, Eli.” 

This seemed to help improve Eli’s nerves. “Thanks, boss,” he whispered, exhaling now. “Yeah, you’re right. They’ll be in and out. It’s just recon anyways.” 

Nearly twenty minutes passed before Eli’s phone started ringing. A loud sigh of relief came from his mouth as he pulled the phone to his ear. “Did everything go according to plan?” Eli asked. 

“Oh, fuck, man!” Tripp shouted into the phone, panting erratically, it sounded like he was fleeing on foot. 

“—whoa, what’s wrong?” 

“Deucalion was there!” Tripp said frantically, “Dallas, come on man!” 

“Deucalion?” Eli said loudly. Now Ace was up on his feet, immediately at Eli’s side. His eyes were fixed on his friend’s troubled face. Unable to contain himself, Ace captured the phone and spoke directly to Tripp. 

“Tripp, I need you to take a breath and tell me what happened. Deucalion was there?” Ace could hear Tripp slowing to a walk, still breathless but he was trying to calm himself. The sound of someone else gasping from behind was heard. He assumed it was Dallas. 

“They were there, all his lieutenants. It wasn’t just a ghost crew. They were having some kind of meeting or something, I don’t know! Dallas and I barely got in the place and then we heard gunshots. Sawyer and Tommy… they’re dead, Ace. They killed them.” 

An audible gasp could be heard from Ace as he sat down in the chair, giving Eli the phone now. Ace didn’t bother listening to the remainder of the conversation. He wanted nothing but silence for now. His head was filled with questions and doubts. Two of his men were lost. Not just dead but lost…forever. They would never retrieve their bodies. The Los Lobos would desecrate their remains in unimaginable ways. Ace felt a wave of grief slamming against his chest and he lost his breath for a moment. Eyes burning from tears, he took out his phone to make two phone calls. 

◈◈◈◈◈◈

Members of the gang drifted to the sea house to celebrate and mourn the lives of their fallen friends. Ace and Eli had been at the house for nearly a day and a half now. They prepared the food for the wake, modified the defenses in case of retaliation from the other gang, and made sure there was clean linen in every bedroom in case some of the members wanted to stay for the night.

Ace was staring out the window at the gray clouds that swirled together in the vast sky. It was a good day for a wake, in all poetic senses. The thought made Ace swallow the bile that tried to rise in his mouth. He let out a sigh as he heard the approaching footsteps of Eli. “I’m sorry, Eli,” Ace whispered, turning around to face his friend who looked like he had aged ten years over the last four days. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this as the leader,” Ace explained, shaking his head. “I can take charge.” 

Eli shook his head “You have more at stake than me,” he whispered, trying to be brave. “I will not let you down. Ever.” 

Ace pulled his friend into his arms and hugged him tightly. “I know you won’t.” He let go of Eli and ran his hand across his brow, wiping the sweat beads away. Uncomfortably, he tugged at the suit he wore. “It’s hot as fuck here, let’s get the AC on.” With a nod, Eli turned and headed away from his leader. 

Ace resumed his stare out of the window, but this time he did not look at the clouds, instead he was watching the headlights of the black limousine that climbed up the curved driveway. Ace swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as he prepared himself to meet the widows of Sawyer and Tommy. As he walked out of the house, he called over his shoulder to Eli to join him. Today would be a very hard day for him but he could not imagine that pain and grief that Ana and Lisa felt.