#its the shit you seen in your doctor's office or a medical class

[cordytriestowrite]

Trips to the Nurse's Station

Steve Rogers x Reader

The Fight

Summary: A series of moments centered around the Nurse's Station tell the story of you and Steve.

Shouting echoed down the hallway outside your door as it filled with students released by the bell. You stood up from your desk and closed your door to block out the sounds of squeaky sneakers and opening lockers. You glanced back at the freshman through the privacy curtains around the cot. She was still asleep. Her mother had refused to pick her up, apparently a migraine was not worth leaving the office for. She had insisted you send her back to class with some aspirin. Though her mother had no sympathy that didn't mean you had to ship her back to class right away, so you had set a timer and told her to try to sleep it off. 

The warning bell sounded and the hallway quieted gradually to silence. You sighed and settled back into your desk chair. It was only a month into the school year and your first month as a school nurse. In the month you hadn't seen anything worse than headaches and stomachaches, but it was better than the trauma of the ER. You closed your eyes and felt a shiver run through you. The rupture of goosebumps on your skin was the only way your body reacted to the long nights you had spent taking in the violently ill walk ins and car crash victims. 

The sudden increased volume in the once noiseless hallway beyond you door brought you out of your thoughts. You barely had time to rise from your chair before the station door burst open. You jumped at its loud crash against the wall and a flurry of bodies piled through. 

A large man held two boys by the upper arms, his own muscular arms straining under his long sleeve shirt. His blue eyes were hard with anger, lips tight, and a light pink decorated the height of his cheeks. 

Despite the subdued rage in the man's face you couldn't help but admire his sandy blond hair and long dark lashes. You were staring so long it took you by surprise once you did finally glance away from him towards the boys. Instinct spurred you into action, taking in the damage and assessing the best course of action. 

"You," you said, pointing to the boy with a swollen eye, "sit."

He fell heavily, obediently, into the plastic chair along the wall, the man dropped his arm as he went. The other kid had your full attention now. He was obviously not going to win the fight if the teacher had not interfered. His lip was split and blood ran down his chin. He looked dazed, possibly concussed and his eyes didn't follow the small light you passed across his vision a few times. 

"Put him over there" you instructed, pointing him to the cushioned chair beside your desk. You sat down and pulled two ice packs from the mini fridge under your desk and wrapped them in paper towel before extending one out in each hand to the teens. The one sitting against the wall rose and took it silently but the boy beside you continued to stare blankly at the far wall. The handsome teacher accepted the ice pack instead and placed it against his face. The student absently brought his hand up to keep it there.

"He might have a concussion." The man said and you nodded in agreement. 

Dutifully you made quick work of cleaning the blood from the boys split lip. He wouldn't need stitches but it would be painful and tender the next couple of days. You pretended not to hear the quiet conversation next to you between the teacher and the other boy. 

"Tell me what happened."

The boy shrugged one shoulder and looked down at his shoes. 

"He just said some stupid shit, Mr. Rogers."

"Language." He admonished immediately, like this was a habit to say more than an actual offense. 

"Well that's what happened." The kid grumbled back. 

"Well, we'll see if Principal Fury likes that answer"

With a sigh the man you now knew as Mr. Rogers tilted his head back against the wall. The long column of his neck was revealed to you and your mouth went dry. Teachers didn't look like him when you were in school; young and fit and handsome… he just didn't belong. You cleared your throat and looked away, gathering the papers needed for an incident report. You had printed 50 copies on the first day of school when your thoughts teetered more on the extreme scenarios of your prior position in the emergency room. You took out three copies, bringing the pile down to 47. Attaching each paper to a clipboard you handed it off to your three visitors. Mr. Rogers wrote quickly, neatly, delicately which was surprising for his size. You watched his hand move across the paper so engrossed in the way he gripped the stubby pencil he had pulled from behind his ear that you didn't immediately feel his gaze on you.

Looking directly into his eyes was like looking into the biggest, bluest body of water and knowing you were completely safe to dive in. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks and the urge to say something bubble up from the swarm of butterflies sitting high in your stomach.

"I-I can take it from here. If you need to get back to your class."

Mr. Rogers smiled, causing you breath to catch, and shook his head.

"Its my free period."

He was giving you this smile, a smile that was slightly small and subtle like he didn't even know his lips were forming it. You couldn't look away. 

The timer you set for your sleeping student went off and your attention shifted to quieting it. You made a point not to even look in Mr. Rogers' general direction as you roused the girl from the cot and wrote her a pass back to class. To keep busy you checked in on the students, collecting their reports and now thawed ice packs. 

"I can take these," Mr. Rogers offered, extending his hand towards you, "I need to make copies for Principal Fury." 

You realized he was talking about the incident forms and pulled them off the clipboards. He shot you a polite smile as he stood, the space between you minimal in the small space between the chairs and your desk. 

"Come on ya punks."

The boy next to him rose quickly and stomped out of the room, the other followed more slowly and slightly off balance. 

"He probably has a concussion." You told Mr. Rogers, worrying your lip as you watched the student clutch the door frame for support.

"I'll make sure he gets picked up and taken to a doctor." 

His voice was low and assuring. His eyes kind. You realized his large, warm palm was rested along your upper arm. He was comforting you. You wondered how he had developed good bedside manner, something you were usually too clinical to bother with, without working in the medical field. 

"Thank you Mr. Rogers."

He chuckled and dropped his hand from your arm, bringing the incident reports up from his side he gave them a gentle shake.

"I'll bring these back at the end of the day." 

You watched him walk away, your eyes traveling leisurely down his broad shoulders to his plump backside letting out a silent whistle of appreciation. He turned once he reached the doorway and your eyes went wide wondering if your silent whistle had not been so silent.

"It's Steve by the way."

Once he was out of sight you let out a heavy breath and all but collapsed on top of your desk. You wiped at your brow then covered your face with both hands and whispered.

"So cute oh my god."

Permanent tag list

@just-add-butter @instantnoodlese @bambamwolf87 @dyanlzbb @sebstanhun @thoughtfullhuman @sbluehi @fanfictionrecommendations-com @spacezombiie @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @titty-teetee @morganhoran1671 @alt-er-love-er-alt @bornfortherainydays @alysawrites @venitia89 @wolffcur @always-irrelevant @morganhoran1671 @polaroid-idiocity @darkphoenixrisingwrites @drakesfiance @katzenwahnsinn @mywinterwolf @kcd15 @somewereinthegalaxi @justalilsad5 @becs-bunker @reading--mermaid @reviewfanfics @marvelousmarauderstrash @iamverity @evolving2deppression @youpenguinadonis @darlingtholland

[breeeliss]

POSITIVE (+)

shiro-centric, shadam, sheith

//

the doctors told him when he was sixteen, after his parents found him passed out in the bathroom sitting in his own piss, shit, and vomit. 

while they gave his prognosis, his mother stepped outside to cry in the hallway and his father screamed at the nurses to run all of shiro’s tests again. shiro didn’t remember how he reacted. he remembered the information sitting dumbly in the middle of his chest but there was no weight pressing him into his seat and no searing realization that burned through him. they were just words and strange intervals of time. 

it wasn’t until they came home four hours later -- when shiro raced to the bathroom and found blood and old pills in his vomit -- that he cried quietly so his parents couldn’t hear. 

//

he had to start keeping a binder. 

doctor’s appointments, test results, physical therapy exercises, medication charts, symptom trackers, personal diaries, and questions for his doctors at his next visit. 

there was a boilerplate letter that he gave all of his teachers every time he had to leave early or miss a test for an appointment. 

shiro didn’t tell anyone, but it felt like everyone was watching him get smaller, get weaker, reject his medication, struggle through his therapy, endure through the oscillating treatments that worked one week and left him bed bound the next. 

it was hard to explain to his teachers why he had a bit of a break down after his friends joked that finals seasons was leaving them “feeling like death.” he had closed off access to himself and he didn’t want others to poke around in what he himself could no longer make peace with. 

how could you tell someone else that your life was no longer a hyperbole, no long a tongue in cheek comment, no longer a fatalist joke? it was laid out bare, vulnerable, and waiting. shiro didn’t feel like death. he was death. 

one day, shiro was going to die before he was ready. 

//

it took several months for his symptoms to stabilize, and shiro entered what he called his “good years.” 

they predicted that with regular exercise and consistent treatment, he’d be able to stay at peak capability until he was 30. 

they didn’t tell him what would come after that, and shiro decided he didn’t want to be told.

he was going to drive up to the galaxy garrison next week. it was bad enough that his dreams had a time limit. he didn’t want details on how that explosive end would occur. 

for now, the garrison would be giving him the health insurance he needed to keep paying for his treatment. they’d have the best doctors in the world on call to make sure that he didn’t relapse. they’d be feeding him, housing him, and making sure that he lived out the rest of his youth in comfort and safety. they were helping him live long enough to check off every item on his now truncated list. 

he had no time to worry about the person he would soon become -- the one who wouldn’t be able to live alone, the one who wouldn’t be able to be a pilot, the one who would need help walking, the one whose muscles were slowly atrophying, whose organs were slowly failing. 

shiro was playing hide and seek with death, and death was still counting to a thousand. 

//

shiro decided to drive to the garrison campus in arizona himself. 

he could feel the discomfort his parents had towards him joining the military so he decided to save them the pain. he didn’t mind going alone. it would be the first time he’d travelled alone since his diagnosis, and shiro missed the long drives he used to take in the summer times when his body didn’t feel like a weight with a bomb strapped to it. 

he was driving through the night and desperately waiting for the next truck stop to come up so that he could nap, but it wasn’t for another few miles. shiro was already feeling himself jerk awake every couple of seconds, not even realizing he’d been dozing off. he half-considered just sleeping on the side of the road, but the risk of getting clipped by a car speeding by too quickly was enough to convince him to keep pushing through it. 

shiro didn’t notice when he fully fell asleep. he didn’t notice when he veered into the other lane. he only noticed when he heard an eighteen wheeler honking their horn loud enough to snap shiro into focus. he barely had time to swerve away from the truck he’d literally been half a second away from driving straight into at fifty miles an hour. 

he cut the wheel so sharply he almost pitched himself off the road and straight into the guard rail. he veered again and narrowly missed another car coming in the opposite direction. he thanked his sharp reflexes earned from so many hours spent in flight simulators that he was able to right his car and keep driving down the road without a scratch. 

shiro pulled off to side, gripping his steering wheel hard enough enough to make the leather squeak. his heart was still racing as his body struggled to catch up with the realization that he’d almost died. not by a disease that hid in his body, but by a fucking semi that would’ve crushed his car and left it a mangled heap with him stuck inside. 

but he was alive. he felt alive. his blood was pumping, his fingers were trembling, and the adrenaline made him lean back into his seat and laugh so hard his chest ached with all of his wheezing. death had almost found him, but he’d slipped out of its grasp and bought himself more time. he controlled the time he had left. he kept the game going. this ended when he wanted it to. 

it was euphoric. 

//

they nicknamed him “the hero” at the garrison. 

not just because he was the best pilot and clearly the first pick for any deep space mission, but because he had this senseless motivation to do anything necessary, even risk his safety, to complete his objectives. 

dangerous flight maneuvers, kamikaze stunts, and an ambivalence to danger made him one of the most dedicated and talented pilots the garrison had ever seen. his superiors called it him having the mind of a true fighter pilot. shiro just called it an obsession with control. 

adam was no stranger to the selflessness required of being a pilot, but even he seemed to notice the barely discernible recklessness that punctuated so much of shiro’s piloting. 

he was helping give shiro his last injection for the night when he brought it up. “if i didn’t know how dedicated you are to succeeding here, i would almost say it feels like you don’t care.” 

“i do care,” shiro explained. “just not about the danger. and not about risking my life.” 

adam rolled his eyes and placed a kiss under the medication cuff shiro always wore on his wrist. “you’re allowed to value your life a little more when you go through dangerous simulations, you know.” 

“i value my life plenty, adam. i probably value it more than you do.” 

it wasn’t meant to sound curt, but sometimes shiro spoke so frankly about his mortality that it would even push adam into an awkward silence. shiro grabbed his cheeks and kissed him, speaking against his lips once they separated and took a sobering breath. “i need to feel like my life is in my hands,” shiro explained. “not my doctor’s. not my family’s. not my disease’s. i want it to feel like it’s mine.” 

“i know,” adam whispers. “but i don’t want to lose you a second earlier than i have to. i want to keep you for as long as i can.”

shiro smiled. “you’ll have me for a long time, babe. i’m not going anywhere. everyday when you come back from class i’ll be here. safe and sound. not a hair out of place. besides they’re just simulators, adam. simulators can’t hurt me.” 

//

three days later, samuel holt called shiro into his office and told him that he’d tapped him to be the pilot on his first deep space mission. 

// 

the first time shiro mentioned kerberos, adam wouldn’t even hear it. 

they were sitting in the hospital together after shiro was forced to go through routine testing after coming back from his most recent mission. a little bit of vomiting, some nausea, slight muscle weakness, nothing that shiro wasn’t used to. but adam hovered over him with a ferocity that even made shiro balk, and he shut the kerberos conversation down before it even began. 

“this is you after just five months in space,” adam scolded, watching shiro swallow back a cocktail of pills. “what will you look like after a year?” 

“like someone who’s made it father into space than anyone in history ever has.” 

“and that matters more than your life?” 

“it is my life,” shiro explained. “if my life was leading up to anything, it would be this. sam told me he’d take me, he just has to get it approved by his superiors first.” 

“and if you die?”

“then i die having accomplished more than i ever imagined doing. i’m not afraid of dying, adam. i’m afraid of dying before i’m ready. i want to die when i say so.” 

adam grabbed his shoulders to turn his body. “you are not a god. you are not infallible. you have a limit and you’re pushing it.” 

shiro frowned. “i didn’t come here to play it safe. i came here to make history. i came here to discover and learn and explore. i don’t think i’m some indestructible god. i just think i’m someone who shouldn’t waste what little time he has left second guessing the things he really wants. i really want this.” 

“you want this more than everyone at home waiting for you?” adam demanded. “their pain and your death is worth living out this dream of yours?” 

adam was speaking in generalizations, but shiro knew how much adam feared being alone -- knew how much being out and in love and with someone nearby mattered to him. and shiro would never purposefully take that away from him. but he told adam the same thing he told him when he revealed the severity of his disease. “my life is mine. i have to choose how i live it. i have to prioritize myself. i literally don’t have the time to do anything else.” 

it wasn’t an answer adam liked, and the conversation ended when he went to find the nurse and ask her when shiro’s test results would be back. while he waited, shiro wondered not for the first time how adam saw him. 

handsome, yes. brave, of course. kind, surely. but how did he see his body? a beautiful vessel? a decrepit husk? powerful? flimsy? wild? docile? 

did he love it despite its finality or did he love it because its finality was something he could momentarily ignore? 

they weren’t questions shiro liked asking, and it was hard to question the motivations of someone who held him so tenderly at night, whose kisses lit a fire in him that he didn’t think would ever be lit in his lifetime. but shiro thought of kerberos, thought of open space, thought of the unknown and the possibilities and the adventure. 

and that fire turned into an inferno. 

//

shiro took keith on a hover bike ride the night before he was meant to fly out to kerberos. 

by that time, keith had mastered his vertical dives and they were both able to race each other across the desert and cackle like boys as the drove so far out they couldn’t see the garrison campus. every time they went for a dive, their hearts plummeted and their blood roared until they were dizzy with laughter the moment they pulled up to keep riding. 

keith pulled off his goggles and shook off all the sweat in his hair like a dog. “i get why you love doing that so much.” 

“oh yeah?” 

“you fucking feel....everything, you know?” keith grinned. “your whole body, everything around you, every sense is on freaking fire. it’s so addicting.” 

shiro nodded along. “it’s liberating isn’t it? adam doesn’t really get it. thinks i’m going to hurt myself or something. tried to invite him out a couple of times but he’s always fine just watching.” 

“you’re too good a rider to hurt yourself. besides, you don’t get anywhere by not doing something stupid every once in a while. i mean, i stole your car and now i’m here.” 

shiro snorted and shoved keith’s shoulder. “that’s not a habit you should make, dummy.”

“admit it. i make a good point.” 

he sighed and looked out at the sun dipping behind the mountains. “no you do,” shiro said. “hell, most of my best decisions have been really stupid ones. coming here. being a pilot. going on this mission. everyone around me said i was a freaking idiot.” 

keith bit his lip and watched shiro press the medication cuff on his wrist. “so why’d you do it?” 

shiro shrugged and tried to find words he’d only ever spoken in his mind. “because i’m...bigger than this body. i mean, we all are, but just because mine is weaker than yours doesn’t mean that it’s capable of anything less meaningful. if there’s one thing i learned from having a death sentence hanging over my head for most of my life, it’s that you appreciate just how much your body can endure. how much you can push yourself to do if you just believe in something strong enough.” 

keith frowned and picked at his jacket. “the world has to stop you eventually. it takes things away. that’s how the world works.” 

“everything is an exercise in creation and destruction, keith. for everything that dies, a new thing grows in its place. finality is terrifying, but i think it’s comforting to know that that’s the only true end. every other moment in life that feels like a dead end is entirely temporary. there are always new places you can go and new ways to live fully and happily. life gave my body this disease, so now i give my body a purpose in return.” 

keith looked up at shiro with a sparkle in his eye. “that’s a really good way of looking at it.” 

shiro threw an arm around keith’s shoulder and pulled him close. “i told you that i wouldn’t give up on you, and i never will. but you also can’t give up on yourself. when things are hard? fight. when things are taken away? grab them back. when things are destroyed? build them up. if you promise me that, then i’ll promise the same. i’ll never stop fighting. i’ll never let my body stop me. and no matter what, i’ll come back to you.” 

“you promise?” keith asked. 

shiro lifted his chin high when he answered. “swear on my life. i’ll fight to the death for you.” 

//

[rapperkookz]

Paralleled Love - 1

Descendants of the Sun-like AU with special agent!female reader and doctor!jungkook

Song Y/N worked as a special agent for the Korean government, much like a Kingsman or James Bond film. To the outside world, she worked part-time at a dog cafe, but when her skills are needed, she lives a double life stopping notorious murderers, infamous gangs, illegal drug dealers and arms traders.

Jeon Jungkook worked at Haesung Hospital as a member of BTS - the VVIP medical team. He is the youngest surgeon, but one of the most skilled doctors in the hospital.

What starts off as a simple stitch, turns into a love story as memorable as Romeo and Juliet. Fate has a cruel plan for Y/N and Jungkook which marks similarly to her military soldier brother and his doctor wife: full of laughs, tears, love, and blood.

A/N I have never written a fic on tumblr so this will be a first for me rip. I just rewatched DOTS so I figured why not? Hopefully you guys will give me lots of love :) All rights go to the directors and producers and actual real life people being mentioned in this fic, it will be similar but also not really to the drama, I am not stealing plot, not to worry :)

Song Y/N

Jeon Jungkook

BTS - VVIP Medical Team

NCT - Special Agents

ch. 2

ch. 1 - Your POV

It happened to your brother and now it’s happening to you. Rarely do you ever speak with your older brother, solely due to the nature of both of your jobs, but after attending his wedding with your now-sister-in-law, you and him bonded over his love story. Being on break, encountering a gang of hoodlums, and meeting the doctor that eventually became the love of his life. They broke up and after 8 months were reunited by fate in a third world country far away from home for volunteer work. 

You, too, were on break after half a year of harsh winter training in Siberia. Seeing that your brother was spending time with his family, and not deployed somewhere for the military, you spent some time catching up with him. There were differences between both of your jobs, but essentially were more than likely the same. He took the role of a special forces major, doing top secret work for the Korean military. You were a special agent, also doing top secret work, but for the Korean government.

“Doesn’t it worry you? leaving your family?” you asked as he rocked his son to sleep.

He gave you a smile, “Always, but I’m good at my job, and that includes-”

“Not dying” you answered, “I know that all too well, Joongki oppa.”

“your work is more dangerous than mine” Joongki answered, “I’m at least protected by the military, the government doesn’t protect you that much, y/n.”

“It’s a risk I take,” you said clinking your glasses together before taking a shot. You winced as you leaned against the couch. He noticed your discomfort and motioned for you to turn around, “Shit, did my stitches open?”

“Yeah, your back is bleeding.” He said, “let’s go to the hospital, you need professional care.”

“You’re only using this as an excuse to see Hyekyo unnie, aren’t you?” you chuckled getting up, holding your nephew as Joongki grabbed his coat. The two - technically three - of you drove to Haesung Hospital, acting careful as to not stain your brother’s car with blood. Walking inside, you let your brother deal with the receptionist, coincidentally timing your arrival so that Hyekyo was eating dinner.

“Oh? what are you doing here?” she asked, a smile automatically on her face upon the sight of her son and husband.

“y/n needs stitches,” Joongki answered, giving her a kiss on the forehead, before you handed the sleeping boy to her.

“You don’t have to do it unnie, I don’t want to take your free time giving me stitches,” you said.

She touched your arm affectionately, “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands, y/n. Is your wound from work?”

You nodded, knowing that she already knew the kind of work you did since it was similar to your brother’s. She called to her colleagues, asking if any of them were free to stitch you back up.

“I have to do my rounds, but Jungkook can do it,” Jinki answered.

“Perfect, can you take y/n to where he is?” Hyekyo asked and he nodded, “just come back here when you’re done y/n”

“We won’t be going anywhere,” Joongki agreed. You diligently followed the doctor around the hospital, stopping in an empty ER room, where he paged his co-worker.

“You need me, hyung?” a boy said walking in the room, he looked youthful enough to be around your age.

Jinki nodded, “this is Hyekyo’s sister-in-law, she needs someone to restitch her up, can you do it?”

“Of course,” he said grabbing a new pair of latex gloves from the box on the table. Jinki bid you goodbye before going to do his rounds. “Your shirt is all stained miss-?”

“y/n, Song y/n,” you answered taking off your shirt, leaving you in only a bra. The doctor coughed, unprepared for you bold action, “I don’t know your name, doctor?”

“Jeon Jungkook,” he answered kindly as you laid face down on the operating table. He blew a raspberry at the sight of your wound, a large gash painted your back diagonally, the stitches that held it together previously now stained with fresh blood. You winced at the sting of the disinfectant that he used for cleaning your back. “May I ask what happened for you to get hurt this badly?”

“I was on a run and I fell down some stairs and my back hit against a pole,” you said calmly, the lie slipping off your tongue easily. You didn’t get this gash from a run, you were on a mission trying to stop arms traders and during a face-off with them, you were pushed against the brick wall. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s not pretty” he chuckled, “I’ve seen a patient come in, once, being impaled by a tree,”

You scoffed in disbelief, “That has gotta hurt.”

The both of you engaged in simple conversation as he stitched you up, the atmosphere comfortable and easy to be in. Jungkook was a surgeon. There were 7 in his ‘skilled’ group: 4 surgeons (trauma, cardio, neuro, and ortho), a psychiatrist, an anesthesiologist, and a pediatrician. He was also, indeed, your age: 27 years old. “When are you free next?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You teased folding up your blood-stained shirt and wearing your sweater. You didn’t miss the blush that formed on his cheeks as he coughed and put his glove-free hands in his coat pockets, “I’m kidding, what for though?”

“To uh-to um check in your wound, make sure the stitches hold,” he said, trying to act composed, “but um I mean, if you’re free to get lunch afterwards, I would be up for that too.”

You smiled, “I’m looking forward to it, I can come next week.”

“Perfect, around noon.” He agreed and the two of you exchanged numbers. He walked you back to the cafeteria, where Joongki and Hyekyo were waiting for you, “I’ll see you next week.”

“For my appointment,” you grinned and he nodded before going back to his work. Your brother gave you a smirk, “Oh don’t start, he did my stitches.”

“That’s how our story began,” he said nudging his wife. You rolled your eyes, sitting across from them.

“He’s one of our best new doctors, Jeon Jungkook,” Hyekyo commented, “top of his class, he’s totally your style y/n.”

“Unnie, I don’t have time for a relationship” you whined.

“You say that now, but then it happens,” she said, “Look at your brother and I.”

“And now we’re married and have a son.” Joongki agreed pinching the boy’s cheek lightly. As you were about to argue against them, your phone rang.

“717, report to HQ, immediately.”

“Copy that,” you answered hanging up. You looked at your brother and sister-in-law, familiar but worried expressions on their faces. “I will see you, hopefully soon.”

“You have to come back for your appointment next week,” Joongki reminded, to which you responded with a playful punch to the shoulder. After saying goodbye, you drove your car to the government building. Passing by the regular office workers, you stood in front of the elevator and pressed the up arrow 5 times, placing your watch in front of the well-hid scanner so it would know your destination was under the basement level.

Exiting the elevator, the black and white interior of the “top secret cove” - as you like to call it - came into view. You bowed to your colleagues, walking into one of the meeting rooms.

“717, what do you know of a Lee Junmo?” your superior asked, eyes trained on the monitor framing the side wall.

You bowed your head, “Lee Junmo, head of Power Alcohol. He’s a very well-known public figure,”

“Power Alcohol is lacing some of its cheap beer products with poison, in order to target the poor and addicts,” she said looking at you, “it makes consumers sick to death unless they buy an expensive medicinal cure.”

“Ma’am, that makes no sense,” you scoffed, suddenly feeling self conscious with the alcohol you drank previously.

“From the look on your face, I’m assuming you were drinking before coming here.” She said with a chuckle, “lucky for you, the poisoned beer hasn’t sold yet, nor should it ever be placed on the markets. You need to stop its production.”

“Why, may I ask, is this happening?” You said in disbelief.

She cracked her neck, sharp eyes noticing the blood-stained shirt in your pocket, “Lee Junmo has a superiority complex and genius idea that putting poison in alcohol will help the population problem. Completely stupid. What happened to you?”

“My, um, my stitches reopened from the Chinese arms incident.” You said.

“Well certainly, you’re not doing this alcohol spree on your own. I was gonna send in 205 so he could have more time in the field, but you’ll need more experienced hands since you’re injured. Call 802 to accompany you. After that, you’re off for a month, until you fully heal.” She said dismissing you. You bowed and dialed your fellow agent’s number, informing him of your new mission.

“Crazy Alcohol guy? I’m so in.” He said nonchalantly, “I’ll meet you at HQ, y/n.”

Not even 10 minutes later did 802 show up, the two of you getting dressed and geared up for your trip, “Minhyung, you might need to be doing most of the action stuff. I can barely fight as it is,”

He nodded and went over the plan with you. Sneak in the production building, delete the files of the ingredients of the beer, and burn any current alcohol. “So basically, we’re setting the place on fire,”

“And making it seem like a fuse accident,” You answered getting the keys to the government vehicle. “As protocol goes, no more using our names from this point on, in case we get infiltrated.”

“You got it 717,” he nodded as the two of you entered the car. You connected your watches so to have each other’s gps at all times and to communicate through ear piece, not only with yourselves, but also with the government. The building was about a two hour drive from the city, in a rural area towards the southernmost tip of the country. The place was bordered by lights, a huge POWER on the front of the building.

You parked a good half a mile away from the place, “Alright 802, I’ll shut down all the cameras so you’ll be good to go. There’s an emergency side door on the west side, a complete blind spot to any cameras, you can get in through there. You have exactly 30 minutes to find the blueprint, delete it, and get back out here before I set fire to the building. We need a good distance as to not get any trace, there’s no people here for at least 10 miles of this place.”

Minhyung nodded, giving you a fist bump of good luck, “don’t tear your stitches out.”

“That’s the least of my worries, if you need help, I’ll run to you in a heartbeat,” you said, “now go, We’ll be monitoring you the whole time.”

“802 starting mission,” he said exiting the car and disappearing to the side. You followed him through the computer screen attached to the car, your heart beating in adrenaline. 802 otherwise known as Minhyung or Mark Lee was a fairly trained agent in the NCT unit. You often worked with several of their members, since most of your missions can’t be done as a solo operation, unless you’re calling for a death wish. 10 minutes gone by smoothly, Minhyung made his way in the building undetected and was now currently looking for the alcohol information.

“You have some company, to your left,” you said, “after you’re done with them, keep heading straight, there should be a heavily guarded room, I’m assuming it’s in there.”

“I see it.” he said taking down three more guards. You waited for him, bouncing your knee up and down, itching to go out and get some part of the action, “I’m on my way back, get the explosive ready.”

“802 wait! Vehicle approaching the entrance, you have to find a back exit, I’m heading south.” You said stepping on the pedal, “HQ, we need to leave as soon as 802 is back in the vehicle, send fire to my coordinates as soon as I say the word.”

“717 you better hurry,” they said from your ear-piece, “The bomb in your car is detached, the one set for your coordinate is ready.”

“Where are you? I’m out of the building!” Minhyung said

“I see you, right in front of you,” you said stopping the car in front of him. He got in quickly and you sped off, “alright fire.”

“What happened to a good distance away?” he asked catching his breath.

Your foot pressed on the pedal to go faster, heading straight with no clue how to get back to the city. Minhyung set the gps back to headquarters, getting ready to press the autopilot button as soon as the place was on fire. “Bingo, press it.”

You relaxed and leaned back in the seat, giving him a pat on the shoulder, “Piece of cake.”

“Mission complete, files and evidence destroyed, 802 and 717 are heading back to HQ.” You said.

Minhyung cracked his knuckles, looking outside comfortably, “When I get home, I’m gonna go to the bathroom and take a nice warm bubble bath,”

“Usually girls say that,” You commented.

“Boys can treat themselves too, y/n, don’t be so old-fashioned,” he said hitting your arm, “I’m gonna take a nap. Tell me when we’re back.”

Narrator’s POV

“-everyone out of the way! Patient coming through!” A doctor yelled running through the hospital and towards the OR, grasping the gurney that was being rolled along with him.

“Vitals are unstable, he’s in v-fib!” A nurse yelled putting her hands on the patient’s chest to try and get his heart to start beating again. Grabbing the two paddles, the doctor told the nurse to page the cardiac surgeon, stopping the way to the OR momentarily.

“Clear!”

“Pulse is back.” The nurse said.

The doctor paused for a brief moment of relief, pushing the gurney forward once more. They reached the room in a matter of minutes, the doctor scrubbing in quickly to meet his co-surgeon who was already inside and examining the patient. “Doctor Jeon, what’s your course of action?”

“The patient has multiple gun shots to the abdomen with no exit points, only entry. The heart is barely under control, I’m afraid a bullet might have scathed one of the ventricles,” Jungkook said, “Doctor Kim, you fix the heart while I get the bullets out.”

Taehyung nodded using a scalpel to open up the patient’s chest, immediately did blood start oozing, “I need some fresh blood, quick before he bleeds out.”

The two young surgeons worked diligently, fixing any complications before it escalated to something fatal. Jungkook put down his instruments at the extraction of the last bullet, cracking his neck with a relieved sigh, “Everything looks good, can you close Doctor?”

“I can finish by myself, yes. The rest are looking for you in Yoongi hyung’s office. I’ll come by once I’m done here.” Taehyung said without looking up. Jungkook exited the OR and removed his gown and gloves, washing his hands thoroughly before heading up to the Psychiatry Wing. Opening the door to Yoongi’s office, his nose was flooded with the scent of noodles.

“We ordered you some black bean noodles,” Namjoon said handing the youngest an unopened bowl. Jungkook thanked him and immediately began devouring the bowl.

Jimin smirked, “Slow down there, Jungkook. You don’t wanna choke and die before your date next week.”

“How do you know about that?” Jungkook asked taking a sip of Yoongi’s water.

The boys started clapping his shoulder, teasingly. “I was doing my rounds and I talked to Doctor Song and she mentioned something about her sister-in-law and Doctor Jeon scheduling an appointment next Friday for a checkup and lunch.”

“I need to make sure her stitches are healed,” Jungkook said innocently, shrugging his shoulders.

Jin laughed, “Please, you haven’t had a date since the nurse from dermatology stalked you after dinner and a movie.”

“She did seem a bit off, you know?” Namjoon commented, “When is Taehyung coming?”

“I’ll eat his noodles if he doesn’t show up soon.” Hoseok agreed.

Jungkook chuckled, “We just finished a surgery, gun shot victim. His name is Na Jaemin if I’m correct, I wonder what idiot gets himself shot here in this area. There were 6 bullets in his body, one barely missed the heart.”

“He’s lucky to be alive,” Taehyung confirmed walking in and taking a seat next to Jimin.

“Tell us more about your date, Jungkook,” Yoongi said getting the attention of the group again.

“Hyung,” Jungkook complained for a moment, “Her name is Song y/n, she’s absolutely beautiful, wow. I thought my heart was going to explode when I saw her for the first time-”

“Disgusting,” Jin said hitting his head with a folder, “If you give her that line, I hope she throws up in your face.”

“Now that’s disgusting,” Yoongi said, “just eat your food.”

A/N and that’s the end of ch. 1! Pls give me feedback it’s greatly appreciated :)

[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave: xii

HAPPY GARCY SUNDAY, Y’ALL. I wasn’t sure whether to post this before the episode, since it’ll probably get buried, but @extasiswings and @prairiepirate wanted it and I love to make them happy. So. Here we are.

part xi/AO3.

February 10, 2012

Lucy turns over a glossy proof for the book cover, then another one, trying to tell if there’s much discernible difference (maybe the title typeface is a few points bigger on the first one, and the photo of Lincoln is a little smaller?) or if there is any way she still needs to be here at 10:55 pm on Friday night to sort it out. The answer to that latter question is no, she doesn’t really need to be, but it’s been the week from hell and she hasn’t had much other time to do it. She sent the final line edits and galley proof back on Wednesday, she has the midterm to write for two classes, and there’s a Historian’s Craft workshop that she naïvely volunteered to help with back in December, after someone sent out a panicked email and of course she felt obliged to step in. When you are not quite two years into the job, and are still the lowest in the faculty pecking order, you get stuck with these kinds of things.

Where was she? Right. Book covers. Lucy stares back and forth between them again. It’s not like this has any chance of ending up on the NYT bestseller list, though she’s sure that the University of Chicago Press will appreciate her attention to detail for the hundred copies ordered for other academic libraries. She’s worked hard on the book, though, and she’s proud of it. “Publish or perish” is absolutely a real thing, and she’s had her journal articles, a few chapters in edited volumes, and papers from conference proceedings, but a monograph is different. Good, solid, quantifiable work. She turned twenty-nine a month ago, and here it is. Already has a permanent position at Stanford. Things worked out.

(Things worked out.)

Lucy reaches out to adjust her book lamp and take a dutiful inventory of them both. Spines look the same. Her picture on the back cover is not completely hideous (a shallow thing to be concerned about, perhaps, but there you have it). You don’t really have admiring quotes on academic books the way you do on popular press ones, but whoever has written the blurb for the back cover has made her sound decently appealing. Eeney-meeny-miney-mo?

After a pause, Lucy decides that she’ll just close her eyes and point, and then she will get her things together and go home. It is, after all, Friday night. Noah will be working late, because he does on Fridays, but she can run a bubble bath and maybe drink a glass of wine in the tub. Start that new novel she’s been meaning to. She’s been meaning to. Been meaning a lot.

Lucy closes her eyes, and points at the covers.

She opens her eyes, looks at the winner, decides she likes the other one better, and then wonders if she really does, or she’s just being contrary. What the hell. Not now. It is in fact eleven o’clock, and she wants to go home. She picks up her purse and keys, shrugs on her jacket and throws her scarf around her neck, then steps out of her office and locks it, admiring the “Dr. Lucy Preston” nameplate, as she does every time it catches her eye. It’s supposed to be nice weather this weekend. She’ll see what Amy is up to, maybe. Call Mom. The last doctor’s report came back encouragingly; Carol’s cancer seems to be in remission after the first major round of treatment. She’s been feeling incredibly crappy, since chemo does that to you, but the prognosis, for now, is moderately decent.

Lucy takes the elevator down and steps out into the dark campus, heading for the faculty parking lot. As she always does when she comes out late, she dutifully looks both ways, keeps her keys at hand, and takes an extra look, just in case. Both for the possibility of any muggers – and, well. Just in case he feels like coming back.

(Lucy doesn’t know that she’s proud of getting back together with Noah, exactly. But he is a grownup with a real job, he knows how to be in a relationship, he did still have a torch for her and was willing to give things another try, and if she’s just tired of being alone and wants to have someone in the house when she comes home, that’s not something to be judged for. It’s fine. It’s always been fine. Noah is a caring and attentive partner and has been supportive of her coming down the stretch with the book, given her space when she acts weird, done his best to help her how she needs. It’s comfortable and it’s familiar and it could be much worse. She has nothing to apologize for, to herself or anyone.)

Lucy reaches her car and unlocks it, swinging behind the wheel and turning on the heater; it’s February, it’s still plenty chilly, especially late at night, and she has a Californian’s innate horror of temperatures below fifty degrees Fahrenheit. At least rekindling things with Noah means that she got to move in with him, after six months of living at home again with her mom. It wasn’t bad, she reminds herself. She is glad that she was able to be there for Carol while she was going through the first, worst stages of treatment. But now that the cancer is in remission and the book is done, now is the time to finally, finally ask her mother about Benjamin Cahill. Lucy has been sitting on this secret for two years, weighing heavily on her heart and mind and soul, and held her tongue because she didn’t want to make things worse. But now, now she is going to do it. She hasn’t seen anyone from Rittenhouse, or at least that she knows is from Rittenhouse, since all that shit went down. Hasn’t seen Emma, or Cahill himself, or anyone. It makes her wonder if Flynn did something, made a big enough mess elsewhere that all their attention got pulled off her, or someone issued orders that she was to be left in peace. Why or how, Lucy has no notion. She has been content to pretend those two months in 2010 did not, for the most part, exist. It hurts her too much when she lets them live.

Once the car is decently warm, Lucy pulls out and heads home. Noah finished his residency at Santa Rosa and is at a hospital in Oakland now, but they still live this side of the Bay Bridge. It’s a decent rental townhouse, just achievable with their combined professional salaries (well, Noah’s professional salary – Lucy doesn’t exactly make bank). They’ve been back together for about a year now, and it’s clear that most people feel another proposal is in the offing before long. It’s also clear that if Lucy turns it down a second time, well, that’s a sign that this isn’t the guy to spend her life with, or at least that she wants to. But she hasn’t met anyone else in the real world – in this world, here, now, possibly – that she can actually see herself with, or that is available. Noah might be all there is. It isn’t the case, fish in the sea and all that, but when would she have time to date, throw herself out there for a new relationship? She has a strong introvert streak and the idea is not appealing. No need to mess this up, when Noah is – after all – fine. And yet. She still hopes he doesn’t propose.

There is a light on in the window when Lucy pulls in, and Noah’s car is parked on the driveway, which is surprising. She didn’t think he would be home yet. Maybe they actually had a quiet night at the hospital and let him off rotation early, though that almost never happens. He’ll probably be tired, though, so maybe she can still proceed to the bath-and-wine part of the evening. Or, since it’s late, just hit the hay and go do something tomorrow.

Lucy gets out, locks the car, and heads up the walk, pushing the door open. “Hey, I’m home!”

“In here.” Noah’s voice comes from the living room, sounding… odd. Lucy frowns, suddenly worried. “Can you come in, please?”

“What’s going on?” Lucy shucks her work heels and blazer, hangs her purse on the coat tree, and walks into the living room, where Noah is sitting on the couch with the face he has on when delivering bad news to patients’ families. Oh God, this isn’t about Mom, is it? Noah isn’t her doctor, and there would have to be some major breach of medical ethics for him to have seen her files, but Carol loves Noah and is usually talking to him about this anyway, things she’s seen on the internet, the efficacy of new treatments, one name-brand drug vs. the other, etc. Lucy feels that if her mother wants to use her boyfriend as a free source of information and expertise, she should pay him for it like everyone else would when accessing a professional service, but Noah feels awkward asking, and everyone is sensitive to Carol’s illness, wants to help, make it easier. Seems crass to bring up money for family, after all.

“Hey,” Lucy says tentatively. “I – didn’t realize you were going to be home. What’s going on?”

“I switched shifts,” Noah says. “I took the one on Sunday that nobody wants, so I could come home early and clean and cook dinner and treat you for finishing your book. Anyway, I was doing that, and while I was, I found this in the closet.” He points at the coffee table. “Along with a couple boxes of bullets. You can guess I was pretty surprised.”

Lucy’s stomach flips. It’s the gun that Flynn bought her two years ago, zipped in its case, but in a way that makes it clear Noah opened it and saw what it was. She hasn’t kept up religiously, but she’s still gone to a range every few months, and while she is not a Navy SEAL, she’s not a total joke. This, obviously, has been a private weekend activity that she hasn’t really felt the need to share with anyone else, not even Amy. Maybe Emma went to London like she wanted and Rittenhouse has moved on to bigger and better things than one history professor, but Lucy has never had the luxury of being sure. This, however…

“So,” Noah says, when the silence has gotten painful. “You wanna tell me why you own a gun and have apparently been using it, and haven’t told me about this?”

Lucy winces. “It was just… it’s just been something I’ve been doing on the side.”

“On the side, okay.” Noah looks up at the ceiling. “You know how I feel about this, Lucy. I’m in Oakland, half the cases that come through the ER are kids who’ve gotten shot up, seventeen-year-old gangbangers with three holes in them, or Mr. Fragile Masculinity brought a gun to his workplace because a woman turned him down for a date and boom, six people are dead. I spend five hours trying to save them and still lose them, and I really – ” He pauses, composes himself, and breathes deeply. “I really do not want one in my house.”

Lucy cannot blame him for this at all, given it was how she felt until two years ago. Even more, she can’t really explain how and why she got it in the first place without venturing into deeply perilous territory. “You know,” she says weakly. “Self-defense. Just in case something ever happened, we might – ”

“You work at Stanford University. This is as nice and boring a middle-class neighborhood as they come. If there was a break-in, the cops would be here in five minutes or less.” Noah is clearly trying very hard to keep his tone calm, but the rough edges of anger keep breaking through. “How long have you had this?”

“For a…” Lucy hesitates. “Remember when I turned up at Santa Rosa on that… that really weird weekend, with the… the guy who was shot, and… all that?”

“When you wanted to be called Anna Thompkins and pretend you were his wife?” Noah’s lips tighten. They might be back together, but it is clear that he does not need reminding. “What, was it – did he get it for you?”

“Yes,” Lucy says. “There was a lot of stuff happening. It was a very bizarre few months. I… had reason to think my life might be in danger at a few points, and Fl… he thought it was a good idea if I… if I knew how to use one.”

Noah looks at her even more strangely. “You’ve never mentioned this.”

“I… I know.” Lucy looks down at her hands. “But it was a year before we got back together, and it stopped, and… I just didn’t think it was important.”

“But your last visit to the range was…” Noah pulls a crumpled receipt out of the bullet box and checks it. “December 16, 2011. So just a couple months ago, you still thought it might be important, and it still didn’t feel like something you might share with me?”

“I’m…” Lucy has no excuse. “I guess I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“We’re together, Lucy! We live together, here, in the same house! If someone might be coming after you, the odds are good they would also be coming after me!” Noah’s cheeks go blotchy red. “Besides, I obviously want you to talk to me if you feel scared, if you think things aren’t right, if there is something I can help you with! I love you, Lucy, it’s not a bother to deal with serious, major situations that are making you feel so unsafe as to buy a damn gun! I just – ” He catches himself again, modulating his tone. “I thought we were working on these things this time around. Second chance, fresh start.”

“We – we were. I mean, we are.” Lucy knits her fingers more tightly. “Noah, believe me, I wish I could explain, but – ”

“You wish you could explain. Maybe, I don’t know, just actually explain? That guy, John Thompkins or whatever he said his name was – you said he was the one who saved your life in that car accident when you were in college, but never anything else about who he was or why he got shot. Those the same people you think might be shooting at you?”

“I… would imagine so,” Lucy says, after a long moment. “Probably. Yes.”

“Jesus Christ.” Noah racks his fingers down his face. “And one small woman with a handgun is going to stop those kinds of people, is she?”

“It’s better than not having it.”

“As long as they only attacked you at home? Or have you been bringing it when you go out too?”

“I – no, I’ve just been going to the range every few months or so.”

“Right. Okay.” Noah clearly can’t decide whether be relieved or even angrier. “Have you seen John Thompkins recently?”

“No.” Lucy can’t quite keep the hollowness out of her tone. “I don’t think I will. The last time, we… he made it clear he was… not planning on coming back.”

Noah glances at her sidelong. Then he says, “Well. Honestly, he seemed like bad news. I know he saved your life a couple times, but maybe it isn’t coincidence that he’s disappeared and the scary shit stopped. You think?”

“Maybe it isn’t,” Lucy agrees. “And if you’re going to ask, no. I have literally no idea where he is. It could be anywhere.” Anywhen?

“Okay.” Noah blows out another breath. “Look, I don’t want to be outrageous about this, but you were the one who hid a gun in the house and thought we might be attacked and didn’t say anything to me about it, I feel like I have at least a leg to stand on. I really do not want it here. I’m not saying you have to get rid of it altogether, but like – take it to your mom’s and stick it in the attic or something. Somewhere like that. Can that be the compromise, Lucy? Please?”

Lucy hesitates. This is, again, an entirely reasonable offer – completely in character, things with Noah are never bad, they are always fine. This has been a shock and he’s rightfully angry, but he’s trying to work through it and be reasonable. “Okay. I’ve been meaning to talk to her anyway. The – the first round of chemo is finally done, and she’s – she’s in remission.”

“That’s great to hear.” Noah stands up. “I’m sorry I didn’t get around to making your dinner. We’ll reschedule. I think I’m just going to take a shower and go to bed. Night, Lucy.”

“Night,” Lucy echoes, turning her face up so he can peck her quickly on the cheek. Once he’s gone upstairs and she hears the water start running, she sags back on the couch and feels as if that went a lot worse than, strictly speaking, it did. As well, she hasn’t so much as spoken Flynn’s name aloud since the last time she saw him. They drove to Columbus, discovered that it would be cheaper and nonstop to fly from Cincinnati instead, and got most of the way there before the RV finally and spectacularly gave up the ghost. Had to hitchhike the last thirty miles to the airport, but were finally picked up by a kindly trucker, while Flynn sat glaring with his hand on his gun inside his jacket the whole time. Lucy was afraid that someone would sneeze and set off a bullet hailstorm, but they made it. Flew back to San Francisco and stood in the terminal awkwardly, since it was clear that Flynn wasn’t staying here, but wanted to wait until she left before getting onto his next flight. She was going back to her life, and he was leaving his altogether.

(“Goodbye, Lucy,” and a handshake. A handshake. He walked her out to arrivals, then as she was standing on the curb waiting for a bus into downtown, she looked over her shoulder for him one more time, and he had vanished in the crowd.)

Lucy rubs both hands over her face, trying to feel better, which doesn’t work. She knows why Noah was angry, as he had every right to be, but what’s making it worse is the fact that she doesn’t know if she should in fact have gotten rid of the gun months ago. She has no clue what’s happening with Rittenhouse or Flynn or the fucking time machine or any of the utterly bizarre shit that dominated her life for those few months in 2010. Noah is right that maybe Flynn’s disappearance and the world going back to normal are correlated, and Lucy should be grateful for that. To some degree, she is. But why, why is she still half-expecting, half-hoping to see Flynn waiting for her when she leaves campus late? Reappear out of the blue with some miraculous plan to defeat Rittenhouse and return the world to normal? But if it is… or is this just another illusion, another thin veneer of safety, to be shattered in turn? She doesn’t know. She has no idea. For someone like Lucy, that’s her worst nightmare.

At last, Lucy gets up, goes upstairs, and feels like Noah might not be altogether interested in sharing a bed with her tonight. So she goes into the guest room and pulls out the futon, piles on some pillows and quilts from the closet, and crawls in, burying herself like a mole. Tomorrow. She’ll go by Mom’s tomorrow and finally get some answers. Drop off the gun (but maybe Carol doesn’t need to know exactly what it is either). Sort this out.

Lucy dozes off eventually, has weird dreams, and wakes up late the next morning. When she shuffles downstairs, Noah is gone, but he has left a plate of blueberry pancakes as an apparent peace offering, and Lucy is not too proud to eat them with butter and syrup. Then she showers, gets dressed in her flannels and sweats since it’s Saturday and she looks nice the rest of the time, and carefully packs the gun and ammo in a box with lots of other newspapers and knickknacks and other stuff she’s been meaning to clear out. There. Nothing suspicious. She loads it into the car, pulls on her sunglasses, and heads out.

Twenty-odd minutes later, Lucy turns into her mom’s driveway, parks, and gets out with the box. Trundles up the walk, running over her script in her head one more time – how to bring this all up in a gentle but firm way, and not be sidetracked again. Her mom can be good at doing that. But this is a good time to clear the air, she won’t get a better chance. She just has to… do it.

Lucy shifts the box onto her hip, and knocks.

After a pause, she hears footsteps, the deadbolt chain unlocks, and her mom, wearing a bathrobe and a flowery beanie, opens the door. Her hair is just starting to grow back in after the first round of chemo, and Carol, a woman who is always impeccably put together, is self-conscious; she wears a wig in public, and a variety of fashionable hats otherwise. She still looks thin, but better, and smiles warmly. “Lucy. What a surprise.”

“Hi, Mom.” Lucy takes a better grip on the box. “We – well, Noah was doing a little spring cleaning, and there’s just some stuff that we don’t really have room for. Can I possibly pop this in the attic? Then we can have some coffee and talk.”

“Of course.” Carol opens the door and steps back to invite her. “How’s the book going?”

“I just finished it. Picked the cover, I can show you. It’s in my purse.” Lucy shuffles in, hauls the box up the stairs, and up the creaky, dusty, fold-out ladder that leads to the attic. She puts it down with a clunk, feeling better that she has done as Noah wanted, and worse that the gun is now out of her house and out of easy reach if, God forbid, she did need it. Maybe she can sneak back here and pick it up again anyway. There has to be somewhere else in the house that Noah won’t find it. Or just –

“Lucy? What are you doing up there?”

She jumps. “Coming, Mom.”

With that, she puts a crate of Christmas decorations and a blanket on top of the box, feeling like Harry hiding the Horcrux in the Room of Requirement, then climbs back down the ladder, brushing the dust off. She follows Carol down to the sunny kitchen, where they sit down. She waves off the offer of tea, since she’s just had breakfast, goes in circles with some small talk about the book and how the classes are going, then finally tells herself that it is now or never. “So, Mom. I was… hoping we could talk.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Carol asks. “You’ve been so busy, but – ”

“Yes, of course. I just meant.” Lucy steels herself. “About Benjamin Cahill.”

There is a long and very nasty pause. Her mother goes somewhat pale (or at least, paler). Her thin fingers tap out a rhythm on the tabletop, stop, then tap again. Finally she says, rather too levelly, “Where did you hear about Benjamin?”

“I met him. Actually. A while ago. He told me.” Lucy looks her mother straight in the eye. “Who he is. Is there any reason for him to be lying about it?”

“He… no.” Carol looks crumpled. “He’s… he is your biological father. But Lucy… the situation was difficult, I was young, I know you may be angry at me, but try to see it from my point of view. Henry was a wonderful father to you and Amy, there was never any need to – ”

“Dad was.” Lucy’s throat feels rather thick, as if she can’t call him that without qualification any more, but Henry Wallace is the only man in her life who remotely earned the title, and he gets to keep it. “Dad was great. But don’t you think that I might have needed to know this at some point? If nothing else, for medical histories and whatever, if not for the fact that I had a father that neither of you ever thought it was important for me to know?” Having met Cahill herself, she understands, but maybe he wasn’t always like that.

Carol raises a hand. “Lucy – how did – when did you learn this?”

Lucy isn’t sure if the truth is better or worse in this instance, but she doesn’t feel like it’s the moment for more lies. “Two years ago. He came by Stanford. He was very interested in recruiting me into – some society of his.”

“Some society?” Carol looks puzzled. “What was that?”

“Never mind. It was… it was all a little strange. I thought that might be why you had put distance between us, why you… why you never told me about him.”

“Lucy, you’ve known about this for two years, and you haven’t told me about it?”

“You knew and didn’t tell me for twenty-nine years of my life, so.” Lucy looks at her mother evenly. “I think I still have some catching up to do.”

“That’s not fair, sweetheart. I’ve been sick, I’ve – ”

“Yes, you have, and I’ve been worried about you. I moved home for several months, I spent the week after I graduated going with you to doctor’s appointments, I didn’t say anything until we got the news that you were in remission because I didn’t want to add to your stress. I’ve waited, I’ve been patient. And you weren’t sick before. You could have told me before.”

“You sound very hostile right now.” Carol surveys her daughter with a frown. “Lucy, if there’s all this anger, it can’t be healthy that you’ve just let it build up. You know you could try to – ”

“It’s my fault that I’m upset about you lying about my father?” Lucy gets half to her feet with a clatter. “You can’t even let me have this without telling me how to do it better?”

“Sweetheart, that is not what I meant. Sit back down, please. Let’s talk about this like grownups. I don’t know how much Benjamin told you, but – ”

“It sounded creepy, frankly.” Lucy hesitates, but sits. “He says that he was a visiting professor at Stanford and you were in his class. Please tell me that is not when you… slept together.” No one wants to think about their parents’ sex life, period, but still. She needs to know that that at least is not the case, though it won’t be any less squicky.

“It was after,” Carol says. “It was just a brief thing. He was in another relationship, and for various reasons, we agreed that it was best to continue on our separate ways. He did send some money, sometime. It was all very discreet and professional.”

Discreet and professional. Just the words you want to hear about your parents getting together, after – by the sound of things – Benjamin Cahill cheated on his girlfriend/wife with a pretty young student, knocked her up, then vamoosed. Lucy’s mouth tastes sour, as if the more she learns about this, the more horrifying it gets. “And you were okay with that?”

“Look.” Carol puts her hand over Lucy’s. “It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it. Do you want to know the best thing about Benjamin Cahill? He gave me you.”

Lucy opens her mouth, then shuts it. She looks down at their fingers, the sunlight pooling on the table. Doesn’t want to ask this next question, but still. Finally she says, very carefully, “Did he ever mention anything called Rittenhouse?”

“Rittenhouse? That’s an odd name. What was it supposed to be?”

“Some… weird secret society. He’s very into it. Some – well, some stuff happened around when you were first diagnosed, and… like I said, I thought that was why you decided it was better not for me to know him.”

“He may have mentioned it in passing, I don’t remember.” Carol shakes her head. “The Cahills were a wealthy family, well-connected – his father was an aide in the White House, I do remember that. Eisenhower administration. They had all kinds of political and philanthropic projects. I can’t be sure of them. Why?”

“I just… I met a few of their people, around the same time I met him. They’re very… intense.” Lucy tries to think how to phrase this without worrying her mother. “I – I used to know someone who wanted to look into them, and I just thought…”

Carol’s eyes sharpen. “I’m sorry, you knew who?”

“Just… a guy.” Not that she would do a damn bit of good with the information. It’s not like she’s going to randomly run into Flynn in the Starbucks line. “But if you remembered anything useful, then I just – ”

“Whatever it is,” Carol says with great finality, “it’s his business, Lucy, and it does sound like it’s better to stay away from it, so I think you should. But I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this friend of yours who wanted to look into a Rittenhouse.”

“It was a while ago. We’re… not in contact anymore.”

Carol glances at her. Then, seemingly as a non sequitur but Lucy can tell that it’s not, she says, “So how are things with Noah?”

“Things with Noah are fine.” Lucy isn’t sure she’s ever given another answer to that question in her life. “He – was going to cook me dinner at some point to celebrate the book getting done. You know we’re both busy, it’s just whenever we can – ”

“Well,” Carol says. “Now that you’ve been back together for a year, you’ve moved in together, have you given any more thought to what a next step might look like? Noah did ask me the other day if you had any more thoughts about… you know. A proposal.”

“What?” Lucy feels a sudden urge to get up and walk out of the house. “He was asking you if we should get engaged?”

“Not necessarily. But he did want to know if you had changed your mind on that at all.”

“I…” Whatever Noah was asking about, Lucy isn’t sure he still thinks the same after the gun reveal, which is almost a perverse relief. “Look, what we have is – it works, all right? It doesn’t need to change or have labels or – you know, any of that. It doesn’t need to be messed up.”

Carol’s brow furrows. “Messed up is a strange way to describe marrying the man you love, Lucy. You do love him, don’t you?”

“Y – yeah, of course.” Lucy glances at the clock. “You two are apparently still friends, so… that’s great. Hey, how about I get my cover proofs? I can show you those.”

Carol eyes her, but deigns to accept the change of subject. Lucy fetches the covers from her purse, Carol thinks she should have chosen the other one, and corrects a split infinitive on the back cover copy. Then finally, Lucy kisses her on the cheek, tells her that she’s happy to see her doing better, and heads out.

It’s a nice day, and she goes out to sit at a coffee shop, hoping that nobody she’s supposed to impress will see her slumming it like a student in her sweatpants. (Professors are human too, you know.) But even though she’s finally gotten a few answers, nothing feels as if it has fallen magically into place. Benjamin Cahill was a skeezeball, her mother doesn’t know anything about Rittenhouse, Noah was kicking around the idea of proposing or at least before he discovered a gun in her shoebox, and Carol’s last question is what Lucy is going to start on next, now that she’s finished the Lincoln book. Nothing exactly earth-shaking. Lucy has clung tenaciously to this life, has insisted on going back and burrowing into it as a defense mechanism, and of course, of course she loves it. But she isn’t sure she likes it any more.

(She wishes – she wishes – that she could just see Flynn again. Know where he’s been. What he’s doing. If he’s even still alive. Rittenhouse could have shot him and dumped him in a shallow grave, and she would never, never know.)

But she’s not going to. She can’t keep hoping, waiting for a man who has, yet again, become all but a ghost, and she didn’t. Moved on with her life, in all senses of the word. Yet if Lucy’s honest, she knows there is a part of her that doesn’t want to accept any possible proposal from Noah, because she doesn’t want Flynn to turn up two days afterward and explain that he has some grand plan to finally defeat Rittenhouse, and she should once more leave her entire life and come with him to do that. It wouldn’t be fair. To Noah.

(That’s what she’s going with. Unfair to Noah.)

And yet. It doesn’t matter. Because it feels, at last, as if Garcia Flynn is finally and truly gone, and the only real way to describe that is heartbreak.

It’s Saturday night, February the eleventh, and Wyatt and Jessica Logan are fighting.

They have in fact been fighting almost non-stop recently, and took a break from fighting at home to go to a bar, which has just resulted in them fighting in public. They’re keeping their voices down, they’re not making a scene, mostly just hissing at each other over their beer and smiling unconvincingly at anyone who might glance over. The idea was that they would get a change of scenery and talk about this over drinks, but that does not appear to be happening. After the whole San Francisco fiasco, Wyatt went home, apologized a lot, and promised they were turning over a new leaf. Then three weeks later he took a months-long assignment tracking two major cocaine cartels from Colombia, one of the most dangerous jobs he’s ever had (and that’s saying a lot). With his previous exploits and Spanish-language ability, he was pretty damn good at it, but he’s still obviously an American gringo, and he came home with yet more damage. Had nightmares. Won’t go see a shrink. Jessica says he’s deliberately stonewalling her, burning them down, and she is at her fucking wit’s end.

(He’s not, he’s not – not on purpose, he’s not, he’s not. Pendleton disagreed with this assessment and put him on leave, but it didn’t help. Wyatt was antsy, unpleasant, itchy, needed to go out, needed to get back to the war – any war, really. It gives him form and definition and purpose, and he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, what is so deeply fucked up inside him that he wants it more than to rest at home with a woman who loves him.)

Jessica says it’s pretty obvious he either can’t or doesn’t want to change, that she loves him but isn’t sure how much longer she can stand living with him. They have met with a marriage counselor a few times, but Wyatt hates doctors and he isn’t sure how this is supposed to help them. He knows what’s wrong – that he’s chronically uncommunicative, hot-tempered, difficult, drinks a lot, and is prone to vanishing for months on highly dangerous classified missions – but that then implies there is any way for it to stop. Wyatt has tried, he’s tried over and over. He loves Jess and wants it to work as much as she does. He’s tried eating the rabbit food that Californians love so much, he took pills for a while but they fucked up his reflexes, he’s even given the whole Kumbaya cleansing thoughts and scented candles a whirl. None of it works. He’s still stuck in his head, looking at himself being this person, and he hates it so much he sometimes thinks that if he just switched off tomorrow and did not reactivate for five years, he wouldn’t mind. Wipe the mainframe and perform a complete reinstall/reboot.

Jessica says that fad diet and happy thoughts aren’t going to help serious, pervasive long-term depression and PTSD – it’s clinical, it’s a disease, why won’t he just see a doctor. Wyatt snaps back that clearly everything is his fault in this relationship. Jessica is less able to keep her voice down as she points out that she didn’t say that, and he doesn’t keep his down at all as he fires back that she was definitely thinking it. Heads turn. A hush falls over the room.

Wyatt’s face burns. He gets to his feet and pulls $10 out of his pocket, palms it down on the counter. “Keep the change,” he says. “Jess. Let’s go.”

Jessica pauses, then icily swings her purse to her shoulder and stalks after him, as Wyatt can feel the eyes of everyone in the bar following them. They are obviously wondering if this is the kind of situation where they should have spoken up and done something, but nobody moves to openly interfere. They walk stiffly into the parking lot and get into the car.

Wyatt is hoping the argument can wait until they get home, but Jessica says she just wants to know what’s wrong with him, and Wyatt – perhaps since this is the one question he has no answer to, is so terrified about – can feel himself snap. He slams on the brakes and shouts that fine, if she thinks he’s so terrible, she doesn’t need to stay close to him for a second longer. Get out. Door’s right there. It’s not that far home. Nice night. She can fucking walk.

Jessica stares at him for the longest, most nauseous moment in the world, white to the lips. Then she nods once, rips her seatbelt off, and practically kicks the door open. Steps out – Wyatt catches a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror, glowing demonic red in the hue of the brake lights – and stands there, waiting for him to pull away, until he does. The tires scrape and squeal. He’s not drunk, but he’s possibly had more than he should to be driving. It’s not far. It’s not far.

It is, of course, barely ten minutes later when Wyatt feels as if he’s had a bucket of freezing water sluiced over him, and realizes that leaving your wife on the side of a dark road late at night is an awful, awful thing to do no matter how angry you are at her (and especially when she is 100% right about what a fucked-up mess you are). He whips the car around and lays even more rubber racing back to where he left her – where he thinks he did, at least. He didn’t get a good look at the mile marker, but it was around here. He parks, grabs a flashlight from the glove box, and jumps out. “Jess? Jess! Jessica! JESSICA!”

He sweeps the anemic beam of the flashlight back and forth, heart pounding in his throat, mouth dry as a desert, all his drunken caveman rage burned off. He climbs down into the bushes, skins his hands on the gravel and bangs his legs on the sharp edge of a drainage culvert, but he deserves that, he deserves the pain. He crunches through the bracken, catches the glow of eyes and has a heart attack, but it’s only a raccoon. Maybe he didn’t go far enough. He climbs back and gets in the car and cruises along slowly, window down, shouting for her. A car full of teenagers whips past, faces laughing and grotesque as carnival masks. They think it’s a joke. “Jesssssicaaaa!” they yodel back at him. “Jessiccaaaaaaaa!”

Wyatt drives up and down every part of the road between their house and the bar at least five times. Panic is starting to take over his head, banging like a neighbor’s too-loud music through a wall, drilling and relentless. Jesus. Jesus Christ, this is all his fault. She can’t be gone, she’ll turn up. Someone probably stopped, like a sane person would, to see if a woman on the side of the road was all right, and took her to their place. Or if someone else, someone not a sane person, stopped, and –

By the time Wyatt has realized sickeningly that she’s definitely not here, it’s almost three in the morning. He goes home and calls her cell, which isn’t answered. Calls it again, leaves a message begging her to let him know that she is safe. She doesn’t have to come home, if she’s still angry. But please, please, please let him know that she is safe.

Wyatt dozes fitfully for a few fractured hours, phone in his hand, until his morning alarm goes off. He sits upright immediately, but he can tell she isn’t home. He calls her back again, another three times. Likewise, none of these are answered. This isn’t like Jess. She’s angry, she has every right to be, but the one of them who ditches without a word is Wyatt. If she was safe, if she was in any position to do so, she would have called, or at least texted, by now. Something is wrong. Something’s wrong.

Wyatt goes out and gets in the car to make one more search by daylight, just in case. But when this doesn’t turn up anything, he knows what he has to do. Drives downtown to the police station, and says he needs to file a missing person report.

He can tell that the cop who takes down the information isn’t terribly impressed at hearing about the circumstances in which Mrs. Logan has vanished, but it’s not his job to comment on that. He does ask several times if Wyatt is being forthcoming with everything he knows – as it obviously looks very easy for Wyatt to have whacked her over the temple with a tire jack, hidden the body somewhere, and turn up here to file a report to make it seem like he’s worried. When a wife goes missing, the husband usually did it, and it is an especially bad look when the husband is a military man who was arguing with her beforehand. Wyatt swears up and down that he has never laid a hand on Jess, which is the truth. Their fights can get ugly, but they’ve never turned physical. He would never, ever hurt her.

The police officer remains skeptical, but allows that search teams and K9 units will be dispatched, and if Wyatt has an item of clothing with Jessica’s scent on it, that will help. Wyatt fetches it for them, feeling numb and dreamy. Yesterday was almost ordinary, before it started going downhill with the argument around four o’clock. Today he’s standing in a police station talking about sniffer dogs and search arrangements. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. He needs to press rewind and play it out again.

Once that’s settled, Wyatt heads home, slaps together a missing poster on Microsoft Publisher, and runs out as many copies on his printer as he can before its toner goes dry. Then he feverishly heads out and starts tacking them to street corners and utility poles. It strikes him that he has not called anyone since this started, has no sibling or friend or even a god damn poker buddy out here helping him. He should call someone. He needs to call someone. But then he’d have to say the words “Jess is gone, and it’s my fault” out loud, and that might break him. He needs to hold it together until this is over. His bullshit has already cost them – cost her – this much. If by some God-given miracle she comes home, she walks through that door again, he will do absolutely whatever she wants. Therapy, counseling, you name it. He has been an idiot – understandably in some ways, but still an idiot – and this is the bolt from the heavens that he was overdue to get. She has to come back. Has to. Has to.

Wyatt gets concerned, confused, wary, or sympathetic looks from people as he wanders along, offering them the poster. There are plenty of people who pretend they don’t notice and motor on past with their headphones in, because humanity is terrible sometimes. A nice older couple wants to know if there is anything they can do for him, and Wyatt reflexively tells them that he’s got it under control. He does not, he has never had it less under control, but it seems to be an answer he can’t get away from even now. He thanks them for their concern. They promise they will pray for him. Great, he thinks. Great.

Wyatt is sunburned and footsore by the time he gets home, but it feels wrong to sit down and relax, to be comfortable, while Jess is out there enduring God knows what from God knows who. He takes just enough of a shower to refresh, gulps down whatever is in the cupboard, and prepares to go back out again. He’s not going to be allowed to help directly with the search, because they still haven’t formally ruled him out as a suspect, but he has promised to be back at the police station for a longer interview at five o’clock. Needs to look less like a disaster. Shaves. Puts on a sport coat, a pair of nice trousers, and heads out to get in the car.

By the time he walks into the precinct, he can tell that something’s changed just from the way they look at him, and he isn’t sure that he likes it. They shake hands, ask him if he wants a glass of water, maybe they should go to the back and sit down. Wyatt has been around law enforcement long enough to know that when they start going for the tender concern angle, it’s usually because they’re trying to lull you off guard for a big reveal, or it’s because it’s bad-news-breaking time and they have no further reason to play hardball. And this… doesn’t feel like they’re going for the bait and switch. This feels bad.

By the time Wyatt is in fact sitting down in the briefing room, he has a terrible feeling that he knows what they’re going to say, and is clenching his hands white-knuckled on his knees, trying to prepare himself for it, trying to breathe in short, juddering gasps in case he forgets altogether afterward. The police chief sits down and calls him Sergeant Logan – yeah, respectful title, he’s the grieving husband now instead of the suspicious possible domestic abuser. They have completed their search of the area, and they have in fact found a large patch of blood in thick undergrowth, about three-quarters of a mile from where he left her, that matches with Jessica’s DNA. There is a trace amount of other blood present as well, which they can’t identify, but is that of another human, suggesting someone grabbed her, Jessica fought back, and there was a struggle. They are going to continue to put resources out there and track down any leads, any perps with violent-crime rap sheets in the area, conduct interviews. But at this point, they aren’t expecting to find Mrs. Logan in a state compatible with life. They are very sorry, and they offer him their full support.

At that, Wyatt almost collapses. Fucking – not in a state compatible with life. Fucking jargon, fucking military/police jargon, the kind he has used himself, plenty of times. Just say it, he wants to scream at them. Just say dead. Dead. DEAD! Four little letters! Just fucking say it! I deserve it! This is my fault. This is my fault. My fault. My fault!

Someone goes out to get him another glass of water, and someone asks if he wants to speak to the staff chaplain. Wyatt barely hears any of it. The world reels by in heightened fantasia blurs like a bad acid trip. He sits there in the chair with a weird, detached awareness that this is somehow happening, he is living through the worst moment of his life, it is going by right there, right in front of his nose. It’s happening and it keeps happening and it won’t stop happening and all he can think, all he can think, is yes – it could have been some local lowlife. But what if it wasn’t. What if it wasn’t.

(He’s done as he promised, after he signed the stupid affidavit. He knows it was a bad idea, but – he did as ordered, he gave up the Rittenhouse hunt, he went back to his ordinary life with his wars and his broken head and his long-suffering wife, he didn’t look any more, and he fooled himself that that meant it was all fine.)

And at that, a strange, preternatural clarity falls over Wyatt. It’s not relief, exactly, but it feels so good, even for just a minute, after the initial madness and horror and distraught heartbreak, that he almost cries. Because if that’s the case, if there is one tiny wedge he can drive into this heart of darkness and make it crack, if there is something he might be able to do that the police can’t – if he’s lost everything that mattered, so why not take the risk –

There is something he needs to do.

There is someone he needs to find.

Jiya Marri started work at Mason Industries two months ago. Rufus Carlin fell in love with her about one month, twenty-nine days, five hours, and – oh, let’s say seventeen minutes ago.

He was probably doomed the instant she walked in – dark ponytail bouncing, stuff packed in a bulging Caltech tote, and a Star Trek scarf wrapped around her neck, the proud result of a “Groundbreaking Women in STEM” fellowship program that Connor Mason sponsored, with the winner offered a job at Mason Industries to design, build, and launch their own app, high-tech project, social transformation scheme, or something else at the cutting, cutting edge. Connor brought her around to meet the team, and Rufus, noting the Caltech and Star Trek accessories, made an awkward joke that he, as the resident MIT/Star Wars diehard, was probably going to be her biggest problem here. Jiya just gave him a bring-it-on-nerd-boy look, smiled, and told him that she was looking forward to it.

It’s not like Rufus hasn’t met smart women before – he has grown up with them, went to school with them, works with plenty of them. It’s not that Jiya is “Not Like Other Girls,” a phrase Rufus hates, but that just she seems so comfortable with being, well, a geek. And that is not a reflection on geek girls, because Rufus has found they are often much easier to get along with and much more enthusiastic and self-deprecating about their interests than unbearably pretentious and insecure geek boys. It’s partly because he wishes he could be more like Jiya, have a little more trust that the world would like him if he came out of his shell. Jiya writes fanfic and has a Tumblr account, goes to cons, does cosplay for various fandoms, has a Twitter where she hilariously and scathingly takes down misogynistic fuckwits on the Internet (so, Rufus thinks, most of the Internet, then). She writes guest blog posts on everything from advanced theoretical technology concepts to why Kirk/Spock is a classic love story among the greats of literature. She can do crazily difficult equations in a couple of minutes, scribbled on the back of a lunch napkin. She has fought through her fair share of bullshit to get here, absolutely. But she’s then powered right on far past it, up, up, up into the stars. Looking at her, Rufus genuinely believes anything is possible (considering what Connor has been working on for the past several years, that’s saying a lot) and he would give anything, anything, for just a little of that to rub off on him.

Rufus knows he’s no slacker, and he’s proud of that. You don’t go from a black kid growing up on the South Side of Chicago in a not-great neighborhood, to where he is now, without some serious ambition and drive (and luck) along the way. He’s made plenty of money and managed to buy his mom and little brother a new house out here, they’ve moved to California and put down new roots. He is part of the lead team on – (it still takes a moment every time he says it, even in his head) – developing a god damn time machine. Rufus knows he’s valuable and knows he’s smart and knows he’s done a lot. It just somehow never feels like it.

Then again, Rufus supposes, maybe it’s better if he just stays safely within the protective cocoon of Mason Industries for his entire life, let other people be the Steve Jobs and the Mark Zuckerbergs of the world, get the attention and the billions and the name recognition. His one brief foray out, with Wyatt Logan, did not go terribly well. He thinks that maybe Wyatt shouldn’t feel bad for leaving him behind (they aren’t friends, he made it plain that he didn’t trust the dude, of course Wyatt cleared out) because once he got back to Mason Industries with Cahill’s Corporate Creepos from Hell, he went in, found Connor, and handed him the recording device that Mason insisted he take, when Rufus told him that Wyatt was giving him a ride. Here, Rufus said. Don’t know what that was about, but… fine, here.

Thank you. Mason took it and stowed it carefully inside his jacket pocket. Oh, and Rufus? Word of advice? Don’t go gallivanting off with Wyatt Logan any more. It’s rather a bad look, and… well. You know I’ve always had your best interests at heart, so really do listen to me on this one. If he does get in contact again, inform me immediately.

This sounded a little odd to Rufus even back then, but as per usual, he settled on not asking any questions. He likewise has gone back to his life, of working on new bits of supporting technology for the time machine. It’s been rough – Anthony did the first major run out beyond just the few-second temporal displacements, which have been dangerous enough, and as a result, he was in a coma for eight months. Rufus visited the hospital faithfully until he woke up, because Anthony has sponsored his intellectual development just as much as Connor. It would be easy for a middle-aged white-guy engineer, especially working on this, to just blow someone like Rufus off, but Anthony has always trusted him and valued his advice. Loyalty is the one thing Rufus prizes the most, and he returned the favor.

Now, however, Anthony’s awake and mostly back to work, and Mason Industries is taking a team trip to London as part of the festivities surrounding the 2012 Olympic Summer Games taking place there later this year. Connor Mason, hometown boy made good, returning to his roots to share his improvements and breakthroughs. He’s chartered a private jet for the whole staff, and while Rufus is side-eyeing the timing a bit (who wants to go to London in February? Couldn’t it have been in actual summer?) he’s obviously not about to turn up his nose too much. As he steps on board the plush plane (ivory leather seats, gilded trim and wood paneling, the whole nine) carrying his duffel bag, he glances around and tries to see if a) Jiya is already on board, and b) if there’s an open seat anywhere near her. It’s a long flight from San Francisco to London, after all, and maybe they could chat a bit.

By happy coincidence, there is one relatively nearby, which Rufus takes. Jiya has her headphones on and a dog-eared Anne McCaffrey Dragonriders of Pern paperback open, though, so he doesn’t want to bother her. They’ll be in London for a week, and maybe Rufus can take her to get fish and chips, or whatever it is that Brits do for a date. While assuring her seventy billion times that it’s not a date, because he does not want to be creepy. Or is it creepier if he does that? God, he is so bad at this.

They take off and fly into the falling night. Rufus stares out the window and watches the distant pinpricks of light wheel past below them, though he starts dozing off about the time they turn only to black and the flight tracker shows they’re out over the Atlantic Ocean. Rufus thinks then of Anthony, steering a time machine out into the uttermost void, the deepest darkness, a world beyond uncharted, where not even the dragons have proper form or name. Beyond Apollo 8 and the dark side of the moon, beyond a place any human can think of or have a proper conceptual idea of. A few of the techies are really interested in asking the test pilots how it actually feels, to leave time and space behind, to move in dimensions the human brain is not remotely equipped to comprehend. Not Rufus. Even the idea gives him a chill. He might be curious on an academic, theoretical-interest level, but he has no desire to ever experience it for himself. Sometimes he wonders if it’s the right thing to do – they can, it’s there, it’s possible, but as he knows well, something done because someone can do it doesn’t mean they should. All the Mason Industries test pilots basically have to sign their own will before taking the job, prove they either have no dependents or have made the proper arrangements for their care in the event of their sudden and unfortunate decease. It’s not quite the Tuskegee syphilis scandal, obviously, and everyone involved knows what they’re getting in for. Mason himself is a black man, he is aware of this. But still. Rufus wonders.

Rufus sleeps for the main leg over the ocean, and wakes as they are touching down in London the next morning. In proper English fashion, it’s raining as they shuffle into Heathrow, pass customs, and are shown to the chauffeured cars that Mason, naturally, has waiting; no cramming onto the Underground for them. As they glide into the city, Rufus turns to Jiya and clears his throat. “So, uh, if it stops raining, maybe we should go look around? Just, you know, whatever seems cool?”

“It will never stop raining,” Mason remarks, overhearing him, with the jaded demeanor of a true Londoner. “Just do take a brolly and be back by six for our opening dinner. If you don’t want to sleep off the jetlag, that is?”

“I’ll probably crash as soon as the dinner’s over, but I’m feeling okay right now.” Rufus glances at Jiya, wondering if he should then invite their other coworkers to prove it’s not a date. But he doesn’t really want to. “You?”

“Yeah, I’d rather make the most of it,” Jiya says. “We should freshen up first once we get to the hotel, but sure, I’m up for it.”

Rufus hastily tries to quash the flare of excited and apprehensive victory in his stomach, as he still has plenty of chances to screw this up somehow. They arrive at the hotel, check in (everyone gets their own room – you really don’t realize how many doors money can open and how much a billion dollars is, until you hang out with a billionaire – Rufus has never quite gotten used to it) and while some employees elect to snooze until dinner tonight, Rufus and Jiya hastily change out of their comfy flight clothes and into something a little more non-embarrassing for public. Then they pick up the envelopes with their daily allowance of spending money (£100 apiece, and Connor has promised to increase it if anyone feels pinched), make sure they have umbrellas and a map, and head out.

The rain has thinned to an atmospheric mist, the trees have faint hints of green on them, black cabs and red buses rush past (Rufus is completely mixed up about which way he needs to look crossing the street, and hopes he doesn’t end up plastered to the front of one of them) and of course, it’s London. They wander past the various touristy sites – Westminster, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, Trafalgar Square, the Tower of London, the London Eye, etc. – chat, and take goofy pictures. It’s possibly one of the best days of Rufus’s life, even if he starts yawning hardcore around three PM and suggests they return to the hotel for a power nap before dinner. First, however, they duck into Covent Garden Market to grab coffee. Jiya wanders away to look at one of the stalls, Rufus sips his latte, and feels as if he has actually had a successful day with a girl, miracles are real. Hopefully he can keep it up, and –

Just then, someone standing behind him taps him on the shoulder, and he turns automatically, a little surprised. Maybe it’s just another of their coworkers out to carpe the diem, but –

Rufus doesn’t recognize the tall, dark-featured man, though something makes him think he should. The newcomer is wearing a trim leather jacket and jeans, a scarf and a newsboy cap, looking like the rest of the fashionable denizens of central London, but he has one hand in his pocket, and he pulls it out just far enough to let Rufus see that he’s holding what appears to be a gun. The Brit laws are a lot more strict than the American ones. What the fu –

“Hello, Rufus,” the man says. His voice is gravelly and accented, his eyes cool and level and more than a little frightening. “I’d like you to come with me.”

[nakedfullmonty-fr]

i want to draw but my eyes feel like someone put acid in them so!! heres a post about personal fashion styles instead!!

Niet - Usually she wears things that give good leg freedom so she can be ready to throw down for her Clan at all times. Personally though, she loves dresses, but even after she becomes Queen and can afford whatever she likes, she usually keeps them simple.

Yastrebok - Has to accommodate for his injuries and the fact that his arm is deformed and can’t move, so can’t wear things with sleeves or the like. Usually wears something akin to a Samoan lavalava (commmon in Water), or a lot of long draped fabrics, kinda like how ancient Romans look like they rolled through a bunch of blankets (common in Light).

Temahae - As a child, she often wears the sort of silly clothing that only children can really get away with (see her goofy jester type hat). Likes star patterns. She dresses like a child would, which doesn’t fit her monotone personality. As an adult, she dresses a little more standardly but seems to flit around different fashion styles. Usually favours black and green.

Magpie - Since she spends a lot of time underground, she wears clothing suitable for someone who spends a lot of time mining. Having been rejected from Wind culture, she doesn’t favour its fashion styles. Unlike most dragons, her thin, bug-like wings remain in her gijinka form, so she can only wear backless shirts. Often wears a Pareu type garment, which is common in Water. She wears orange a lot, probably because Lockheed probably said it looked nice on her.

Lockheed - Grew up in a temple and probably wore plain white robes her whole childhood, so her fashion sense is as terrible as her social skills. She used to wear black often, but since coming to Ogygia she now wears a lot of bright colours and busy patterns - It looks ugly, but she likes it, and reasons that as a Hero, she should be easily identifiable to those in need.

Bermuda - Ran away from home to join a pirate ship at the age of like 12 and probably hasn’t worn a shirt since. He changed his traditional eyepatch for a simple cloth bandana because he was worried he might intimidate children.

Euros - As the Queen’s assistant, escort and translator, he usually dresses in clothing befitting a member of a royal court. Niet keeps trying to get him to branch out and have at least one casual outfit, but even Niet has a hard time getting him to do things he doesn’t want to do.

Ricin - Wears plain and simple clothing, often unbefitting of a Princess. She has an attractive body type, but prefers to keep herself covered and does as much as she can to not draw attention to herself. Pinks and purples and peaches are common colours for her. She has nicer clothing and ballgowns for when her status calls for it, but it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable wearing most of them.

Ahkoolah - A Jock/Goth mix. Usually wears black, combat appropriate clothes. Also wears a lot of long flowing coats and things with hoods. Mostly, she just looks like an emo Assassins Creed character.

Europa - As a dancer, she tries to take pride in her appearance. Since her troupe has some high-class contacts, it’s expected of her to look good, so she probably follows fashion trends even though she doesn’t really care for them. That said, on her own time she probably likes to just wear a big jacket and her boyfriends pants.

Io - Most commonly she wears her armour as much as possible, because she’s convinced that the extra weight trains her frail body even when she’s not actively training. On the rare occassion she’s out of armour, she’s very goth. All black, big boots, skulls, chains, the whole thing.

Ganymede - His social isolation and agoraphobia mean that he doesn’t get out often enough to go shopping for himself, and he doesn’t have the self esteem to even attempt to dress any particular way. Usually, he wears plain Tiu (traditional Water garment).

Saburou - As a Maren, he dislikes clothes, but he wears them to fit in with dragon culture. Doesn’t clothe his top half, and for the bottom half it’s usually something like skintight shorts with a long fabric tied on his waist (seen here). Wears jewellery sometimes. He was often oogled and fetishised in his past, so he knows his appearance has appeal to others, and chooses to try and flaunt this to hide his terrible low self-esteem.

Vrinde - ??????????????? Honestly I have no fucking idea I dont think he really gives a shit he’s covered in gunpowder 24/7 anyways

Iru - Bright colours, big pants. However, when acting as “Iruka” or up in Ogygia on the surface, as a Deep-Sea Water dragon their skin and body are very sensitive to sunlight, so they wear all-black coverings. Their coverings are pretty mis-matched though.

Othira - Like Iru, she has to cover her face and skin to protect herself, but she has more fashion sense with her coverings. Kinda gothic and lacey, with those big Victorian era dresses. She has a fur coat she likes to wear when travelling, but Ogygia’s usually too hot to wear it. When she’s away from the sun and can dress how she pleases, her clothing is surprisingly boring in comparison.

Leiptrvarthr - A Shade monster, so he doesn’t wear clothes. However, sometimes he wears a blanket of sorts across his back, so that his student Ganymede can sit or stand atop him and travel without Ganymede’s paladin blood hurting him.

Cenna - Likes short shorts, but otherwise is quite modest. Originally a simple farmers daughter from a small village, she doesn’t wear elaborate clothing and sticks to simple, practical stuff. However, since coming to Ogygia, she’s started experimenting with trying to find a personal style. Likes cute things.

Aneikenon - Wears black, but because he’s scared people will notice blood on him from his curse, not because he likes it. As a Prince, he owns nice clothes, but since he gets out of bed so rarely he doesn’t wear them. Since he’s so cold, when he wears clothes he wears lots of layers. Wears a lot of traditional Ice clothing made from elk or caribou fur, since it’s effective at keeping him warm.

Galure - Whatever the Dragon equivalent of Louis Vuitton is. Wears all the nice clothes Aneikenon won’t. Likes furs, big ones. And boots, heeled ones, at least knee high. Doesn’t have the memories to know why it might be bad if people know about his curse, so wears light colours, especially white and blue.

Dantalion - Doesn’t really know or care about fashion. He’s from Plague, where you wear whatever you can find, and if not everyone’s chill about nudity. He changes his fashion to blend in with the culture of wherever he goes, or sticks to things that are good for sneaking around and hiding. He has few material objects that belong to him, but one of his prized possessions is a winter coat that Aneikenon made for him from scratch. Even when he’s not working, it seems that there’s a little goth in him that means he favours black clothes. He also wears more leather than your average person, but he’s gay so it’s fine.

Bitya - Finest lingerie collection in Ogygia, so she hangs out in that a lot at “home” - She owns a brothel and is a crime lord, so it’s not like anyone can tell her not to. Outside, her outfits aren’t usually extrvagant for someone of her nature, but she often spices her looks up with one of her many long coats. Usually wears colours in the black/white/cream/brown/gold range.

Zylhana - She works a lot, so she’s usually in some kind of uniform. In her home life, since she has plants growing into the sides of her thighs, her clothing has to accommodate that - Most of her pants and dresses have slit sides. Wears a lot of plain white, sometimes mixed with black. Her clothes are always simple, but she’s naturally beautiful so it looks good regardless.

Lis-Mirolu - Most often seen in her military uniform coat, since she works long shifts and is rarely off duty (mostly by choice). That said, out of uniform she’s a pretty snappy dresser (kinda like that hot office worker type vibe), and is one of the few people out there whole can make a turtleneck sweater look good.

Thulani - As a deity, his appearance depends on how people who believe in him depict him, and so his clothing is also decided in this way. However, he lost a lot of his power, and now he works in a hospital and just wears one of those long doctors coats. He also wears a facemask, and nobodies quite sure if it’s just a surgeon thing or if there’s something funky going on behind it. Nobodies ever seen. Nobody knows a fucking thing about Thulani like he’s some sort of cryptid and not the local medic.

Locket - Ever since he invented long-range communication and got famous for it, he’s becoming more and more of an obnoxious celebrity, and his fashion sense seems to have changed to match that.

[mysafehaneul]

BTS as the kdrama Characters i want them to play

Kim Seokjin :

Doctor!!

Nurse

Idk i want it to be medical related!!!!

Jeez.... Like the flirty one who hits on rather say compliments everyone

Has dated most of the nurses but cuts them off in the sweetest way possible!! #noharshfeels

Even Granny's like him....

Him Being Himself he'll flirt with them... amazing with kids

Prince for young girls...

"hey *looks at the name tag* Christy! What a beautiful name just like the person *makes her blush* can u pass this file to the female ward in charge *walks away after handing the file* and ya *turns* your eyes tell me a story i could hear over and over again wanna grab coffee sometimes *winks*

WhAt An A-hole..... (But i love him)

Min Yoongi :

Mystery writer

Or an architecture firm Ceo

If a mystery​ writer always hanging out the police station to get more information and flaws in his fic character

Silent majority of the time

If architecture, boi oh boi.. man he gonna be a perfectionist af!! #igaurantee

His assistant would have a crush on him (whom M i kidding all of the employees even the men who are confused would have a crush on him)

When he is in a party....... Man if he sets an eye on a person he is going home with them #nostringsattached

Jung Hoseok :

Duuuudee!!!! He gonna be teacher!

DANCE TEACHER!!! Damnn boi.... G2g i have to screame first....

Those hips don't lie boi....

Every female dancer/student in the college may hava crush on him... Sometimes work harder to get his praise, if u mess up! Dude if its minor it's ok

But mess up bad you're totally sure u dont wanna attend the next few classes feeling abit embarrassed

When u go back after the class he will try to apologise n make a good teacher student relationship

He just doesn't likes imperfections!!

Had an unappreciating family...

But still in contact with his omma

Appa idek.... But I'm sure he misses him

Good in bed... But doesn't fucks around that much as his passion keeps him busy!!

Had a affair with the yoga teacher in the past.!!

Kim Namjoon:

"Detective kim on duty sir!"

Analyst mind

Good on solving mystery crime

Joins 1+1 within matter on mins (1+1 means one hint + other= solving case) (phsss i can also join 1+1 its= giyomi)

" I think the driver is the killer...as he had all the valid reason to kill the man.. *after introgation* You were right Kim! Keep it up"

Doesn't sleep around...

Broke up with his girl to keep up with work commitments...

Most of the times busy!!!

Proud parents

Mother pushing for marriage lol basic!

Has a German Shepherd!! Rescued one! Always attentive!!

Clubbing but only grinding or even blow job.... but no.sleeping

Park Jimin

Single dad!

Beautiful daughter

When he was a college fuck boi! He knocked up someone bad, which ended up giving him the reason to wake up every single day

Ceo

CEO!

C-to the-E- towards the fucking- O!!

Chief Executive Officer

U gotta make way for a jibooty in those suit pants even his assistant couldn't help himself and checks him out forget the female workers!!

His mother may not be a fan of his daughter that much but as the time passes she loves her... Even if she tries she is her grand daughter! The babygirl is already grandpa's princess!

U don't wanna get on his nerves!

He may be small but his body is enough to make anyone feel under his dominance

Never fuck him over... For sure

He may not be with that many women!

But when he sleeps he never! I mean never brings the women over his place it would have a bad impact upon his daughter!

Hottest Ceo dad of the year! Tho!!

Kim Taehyung

Bitch keep ur dick inside ur pants

The fuck boi of the year goes to him #nodoubts

Playboy! Enjoys his fathers money! Gonna take over his Daddy's empire! Soon....

Mama's Boy! That's why he lives the fullest.... Only Son!

Woo's everyone

Gold heart! But not for everyone!

Everybody loves u bae

But! Who's your daddy in the bed

*smirks*

Tounge disrespect

Yet to fall in love... Cos he cuts ppl off before they start catching feels

Spoils his sugar babies

Jeon Jungkook:::

Boxer!

Fight for my way u muscle pig!

Illegal fight cos he wants to pay off his fathers debt

Fucks one girl!! But no feel for her he just wants to take out his frustration

Was an orphan! Taken in at the age of 12 by a trained boxer who ended up as a alcoholic gambler

Have u seen the upper cut he gives before finishing off the fight. Shesus!!

A+ student

Quiet

Goal oriented

Rides. A. Bullet. Bike

Leather is his shit!

He invented black jeans!!

[coyoteimagines]

Jim’s Problem - Star Trek

Jim x Reader where he gets jealous please

Jim Kirk x romantic Reader where he gets jealous over someone who flirts with the reader

Words: 1693

AN: This is longer than I meant it to be. Woops.

Jim had a problem. Ensign Gianni.

When he had first been approving new crew transfers, he had been excited about the Ensign. You had needed help in the geology lab for months after your former partner left to have a baby. Finding a qualified replacement proved difficult on the outer limits of Federation space, but Jim was pleased to see Gianni’s name pop up on his oncoming crew list when they docked back at Federation outpost for a quick refit.

The Ensign was top of their class, had experience with a terraforming unit, and had recommendation letters from three different Starfleet Academy instructors. Perfect. Jim had approved the transfer and the Enterprise went on its merry way.

He wouldn’t actually meet the new Ensign until a week or so later. He was lounging in his Captain’s chair when the comm buzzed.

“Jim.”

“Yes Bones?”

“Listen. Y/n is completely fine. But there was an…accident in the geology lab.”

Jim was out of his chair and in the turbo lift in the blink of an eye. He tapped his foot for a few nervous seconds before the lift arrived on the medical level. He rushed to the medbay door and stopped in his tracks. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you sitting on a bed, seemingly fine. And then his gaze fell on the figure next to you, dressed in science blue. A prickle of jealousy ran up his spine as he watched the figure place a hand on your arm, saying something that made you smile. He shook his head and walked over to you.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“Fine thanks to Ensign Gianni here.” You motioned to the Ensign next to you. “They saved me.”

Jim paused before turning to the Ensign.

“Thank you Ensign.” He said. The ensign stood there, expecting more. But when Jim failed to say anything, they simply nodded and turned to leave. When Gianni was out of earshot Jim let his shoulders droop as he moved in front of you, placing HIS hands on your arms.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Turns out that chemical in the asteroid rock was a bit more unstable than I thought. I had my back turned. I didn’t even notice the heat signature rising until Gianni yanked me away. Bones had to pick a couple little rock splinters out of my hand but Im fine.” You explained, hopping off the table.

“You sure?” Jim asked, reaching for your hand. He turned it over as if to inspect it for himself. You pulled it away and used it to pat his cheek.

“Im sure Jim. Now get back to work. I’ll see you tonight.” You pushed a quick kiss against his lips before turning to leave.

“Hey Im supposed to tell YOU to get back to work.” He called out. You responded with a wink just before you disappeared out the door.

------------------------

Jim had all but forgotten about the prickle of jealousy until two days later. The Enterprise was tasked with doing some tedious scans of some planets in a nearby solar system that didn’t actually require him to be present on deck. So he took a rare day off and decided to surprise you during your lunch hour. He headed to the mess, grabbed a tray, and looked around for you. After a few seconds he spotted you at a table in the corner. He started to job over but slowed when he realized you were not alone.

Ensign Gianni was there. And they were making you laugh. Again. The prickle of jealousy returned to his spine as he walked over.

“Mind if I join?” He asked. You looked up from your food.

“Jim! Sit down. Gianni was just telling me the funniest story about the minerology instructor at the academy.” You chuckled as you spoke.

So Jim sat silently and picked at his food. The crew transfer hadn’t mentioned that Gianni could have been a damn model. And their slight French accent made every word that came out of their mouth sound like some sort of seductive message. The prickle of jealousy moved down his spine and made his toes curl in his boots when he looked at you though. You were hanging off Gianni’s every word. And when Gianni made you laugh Kirk stood up abruptly.

“Im needed on the bridge.” He announced with a hint of ice that Gianni didn’t notice, but you sure did. You raised an eyebrow.

“Ok…I’ll see you later tonight?” you asked. Jim shrugged and rushed out of the hall.

The jealousy only got worse. The scans of the planets turned up some unusual geologic features. And reluctantly Jim had to send you and Gianni on an away team to collect samples. Two days on a planet with a supermodel scientist. Great.

And then once you were back on board, you spent late nights studying the samples. Jim laid on your bed, writhing in jealousy. Desperately trying to push images of Gianni’s hands all over you in the lab out of his mind. On the third night of this he gave up and headed to the medbay with a bottle of some pale red alcohol he had been given by an ambassador. He walked into the medbay and into McCoy’s office.

“Glasses Bones.” He commanded as he walked in, raising the bottle to answer Leonards raised eyebrow. Understanding, Bones opened a drawer and pulled out two crystal shot glasses. Jim poured and slumped in the chair opposite Leonard’s desk.

“You’re lucky I’m off duty. So what problems are we drowning tonight?” Bones asked.

“Y/N.” Jim mumbled, sipping the liquid.

“You two fighting?” The doctor asked.

“No. I mean I don’t think so.” Jim shrugged.

“Oh god. You didn’t propose did you?” Bones sipped as well.

“What? No. No, I’m worried about Ensign Gianni.” Jim knocked back the rest of his shot and poured another.

“Y/N’s lab partner?”

“Yea. I’ve been…I mean you should see the way Y/N laughs at everything they say. And Y/N has been spending every night down there with Gianni for almost a week. And Gianni is way more attractive than I thought a geologist would be.” Jim started to ramble, shaking his hands.

“Jim, Y/N is an attractive geologist so don’t ever say that in front of them. And you think Y/N is getting it on with this Ensign?” Bones asked.

“I don’t know. All I know is I want Gianni off my ship. But I cant transfer him because that would be allowing my personal feelings to affect my role as captain.” Jim sipped at this second shot. Just thinking about the Ensign was igniting a bubble of anger.

“I hate to break it to you but you do have a track record of letting your personal feelings affect your decision making. It’s kind of your thing Jim.” Bones chuckled. “You need to talk to Y/N. No bullshitting.”

“What if Y/N tells me something I don’t want to hear.”

“You’ve been happily dating for what? Over two years? I think you’re overreacting. I’ve never seen anyone love someone as much as Y/N loves you. They have to love you to put up with your shit.” Bones shrugged. He snatched away Jims glass just as he was about to pour a third shot. “Get out of here Jim. Go talk to Y/N. And for the love of god do it sober.”

Jim furrowed his eyebrows at the doctor but left the office and the bottle nonetheless. He wandered back to your shared room and stepped inside. You still were not back. He sank into a chair and dropped his head into his hands.

Get a hold of yourself Kirk. He tried to doze off but the bubble of anger and jealousy grew with every minute until you finally walked through the door. As he looked up at you, the bubble popped and he was left with only a sudden and deep fear of losing you.

“Jim?”  You asked, walking over and dropping to kneel in front of him. “Are you ok?”

“Are we…are we ok?” He asked, reaching for one of your hands.

“Are we ok? Of course we’re ok. Unless you know something I don’t know?” Confusion flashed across your face as you let him take your hands. Jim paused, obviously fighting in his head about what to say when he blurted.

“Are you and Ensign Gianni hooking up? You know…behind my back?”

“What?” You asked standing up suddenly. “Are you joking?”

“Its just. Gianni is so…attractive and…and you laugh at their jokes and they did save your life. And the late nights. And the..”

“Jim.” You said, cutting off his rambling. You reached out and pulled him to his feet. “James T Kirk you should know me better than that. No. I am not hooking up with Ensign Gianni. We are working late nights because those geologic formations are unlike anything we’ve ever seen and it takes time to study and document them. You know that. It’s the same process every time we do a geologic survey like this.”

You reached out to cup his face in between your hands.

“And I laugh at their jokes because they are about geology and rocks Jim. I haven’t been able to talk about my work with anyone that actually understands it since Avery left to have her baby. And also, Gianni is going out with an Ensign in engineering. AND ALSO, this whole ship knows Im sleeping with the Captain. Everyone is scared you’ll blow them out of an airlock if they even look at me. I don’t think I could cheat on you if I wanted to.”

A flush grew across Jims face as he looked at the ground. You sighed and pulled him against you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” You asked.

“I was worried you’d leave me.” He mumbled.

“Well you’re an idiot Jim. Im in it for the long haul ok? I love you.” You mumbled back, pushing a kiss against the side of his neck as his arms snaked around your waist.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[phoenixpinks]

TEAM LAZARUS 1001 NAMES

40 pages you crazies, it’s been a fun year as record keeper. 

Let’s try and reach 2,000 for next year!

Note: There are some spots where the emojis just didn’t register for me in the chat title. 

1) Team Lazarus

2) Team Adorable

3) Team Laz-R-Us

4) a FUCKING glass

5) SHEER MASTERMINDS

6) THE ANSWER IS NUN (STRIKE 2? WE’RE HAVING NUN OF THAT!)

7) FUCK CHUCK

8) Dream Team Lazy-R-Us

9) Dream Team Meme Team Laz👏R👏Us

10) Dream Team Meme Team Laz👏R👏Us Groupies

11) Hello welcome to Lazarus how can we cry with you

12) WHATS NEW LAZAROO (WOOOAH WOAH WOAH WWWWWOOAH)

13) Team Lazarus Team Mom

14) Team Lazarus Team Mom Team Rosebush

15) Team Lazarus - Thorn Edition

16) Team Lazarus - Thorn Mom Edition

17) “Take that funky butt and shake it all around…” - Edward Nygma

18) Jonathan Crane brutally murders a bitch

19) Jonathan Crane is our Murder Senpai

20) The Monarch returns to haunt us

21) un Patrol team Lazarus

22) Two Pun or not Two pun, that is the question

23) Hi my name is jim ichabod fear stork rance and i have short stork borwn hair

24) FUCK MONARCH

25) FUCK MONARCH (He’s fine…yup)

26) Jonathan Crane is totally fine there is aboslutly nothing wrong

27) Great Googly Moogly Everything’s Gone to Shit

28) @SkypeOfficial please remove this group there’s been a terrible mispunderstanding

29) endgame: jonathan slapping edward’s ass

30) Team Lazarus, Weakpoint: Hydration

31) Team Lazarus Momobile Beep Beep

32) Team Firewood

33) 847-bOI

34) The Doctor is In!

35) Mom Squad Roll Out

36) The Nyma Sass

37) The Nygma Sass

38) Sass Machine

39) CRANE LIVES HROO HRAA

40) CRANE LIVES CALLOOH CALLAY

41) Mission: Save Riddler’s sassy ass

42) Dr. Crane, master of Hardcore self medical treament

43) Dr. Crane, master of Hardcore self medical treatment

44) Dr. Crane, Master of Hardcore Self Medical Treatment ™

45) *football team chant* G👏C👏P👏D

46) Beep Beep here comes spooky

47) doot doot here comes spooky

48) Beep Beep here comes spooky

49) NOOT NOOT HERE COMES SPOOPY

50) Beepy Boopy here comes the spoop lord

51) here comes a sexy spooky

52) Our Lord and Saviour Jonathan Crane, hallowed be thine burlap,

53) Cult of Burlap and Riddles

54) DJ JC as the lead show with Rapper E.Nygma as backup

55) 55

56) Codot don’t do it oH MY GOD

57) Brb pizza

58) I wanted a turn to change the title sorry guys

59) SO IT IS TO BE WAR BETWEEN US

60) You don’t control me

61) You never leave. Not really.

62) Save the pupper

63) Save the Riddler

64) Be there in a sec sanna

65) Ya’ll are horrible

66) STOP THIS MADNESS

67) NEVER

68) Please don’t go

69) boys with fractured femurs who break into asylums for you 😍😍😭😭💋💋💦💦👏👏👏👌👌👌👀👀👀👅👅👅

70) Great googly moogly it’s all gone to shit… AGAIN

71) Trust a GCPD officer who makes bad puns in high stress times

72) Blessed by Scarepai

73) Welcome back

74) DID SOMEONE SAY MONARCH

75) I imagine when Jonathan saves Edward and the rogues see him again Jonathan’ll grab Edward, pull him in front of him, look dead ahead, and then someone’ll put on the opening theme of lion king while a lone spotlight shines down on edward

76) wE’rE aLl MaD HeRe

77) scarecrow the science bro (CRANE CRANE CRANE CRANE)

78) #PrayForCodotChords2k16

79) Rip GCPD 2k16 never forget 🙏🙏🙏

80) Crane deserves better than this

81) Pish Posh you’ve turned the Hatter into a Hater!

82) The Mad Hater Needs His Fucking Alice

83) The Mad Hater Needs A Fucking Life

84) Y'all need a fucking life more

85) Stop being mean to Jervis

86) being mean to jervis gives me life

87) Y u hatin on Jervis

88) leave my mad bby alone

89) Jervis did nothing wrong

90) Jervis did EVERYTHING WRONG WHAT ARE YOU TALKIN ABOUT

91) JERVIS DID NOTHING WRONG

92) RIDDLE 9 BOI

93) Half-Past Alfred

94) SPOOKY SCARY sceletus

95) Y'all need help

96) RIP Codot

97) Too Smart for the Plans to Find the Smartest 98) BREAK A LEG JON

99) BREAK BOLTON’S LEG JON

100) FUZZ IS A TEACHER’S PET (AND PROUD)

101) We befriended murder sempai

102) We befriended murder sempai

103) Make a bff bracelet with murder senpai

104) “Shake the Box to See if it Complains

105) "What a SPOOKtacular occasion” - Jonathan Crane at some point

106) Ra’s League of Legends

107) Riddler’s Label Pen

108) Can THEY get Edward’s cup of hot cocoa right???

109) Have fun storming the castle

110) GET 👏 OUR 👏 BBYS 👏 THERAPY 👏 PETS 👏

111) clayface!hannah confirmed 2k16

112) SQUAD WITH TAX BENEFITS

113) More annoying and pretentious than Edward

114) MOON MOON

115) Oh. My. God.

116) DAMMIT HANNAH

117) WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

118) Hannah Killed Crane!!

119) “tgis chat changes names faster than the captor changes his rules”

120) Moon Moon, Prince of Prose

121) Books-R-Us 2k16

122) angst, puns and ocs

123) Codot as Theo Saurus 2k16"

124) Ready for pain

125) #kingtheo2k16

126) A-TEAM BADA BING BADA BOOM

127) *faux french accent* A-TEAM BADA BING BADA BOOM

128) YOU GET A CAT, YOU GET A CAT, EVERYBODY GETS A CAT!!!

129) Story Planners Inc.

130) M O N A R C H

131) E D W A R D ’ S  A S S

132) What the heckle deckle did you just diddly done say about me, you little nerd? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Meme Team, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on The Captor, and I have over 3 confirmed riddle solves. I am trained in online research and I’m the top blogger in the entire codot army. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you clean out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my diddly words. You think you can get away with saying that lie to me over the Internet? Think again, meanie. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across Team Lazarus and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your riddleS. You’re dead, Hush. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can out meme you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in internrt combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of Google and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable hints off the face of the continent, you little twerp.  If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” kidnapping was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your undank memes.. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you snake.  I will rain puns all over you and you will drown in it. You’re dead, you viper.

133) Hello Arkham, I have 23 more patients to be admitted

134) Team Lazarus

135) Good 👏 Luck 👏 Brown 👏

136) Morals What Morals

137) Crane confirmed Pyro main in TF2

138) INTO THE KILN

139)  SAVE JONATHAN CRANE 2K16

140) Thomas more like ThomASS

141) INTO THE KILN

142) doting ignorami

143) LET JON USE HIS SCYTHE 2K16

144) Spoopy Scary Skeletor 💀

145) HROO HRAA 🎃👻💀

146) TEAM CRANE 2K16

147) TEAM MEME 2K16

148) FREE EDWARD NYGMA 2K16

149) FREE EDWARD NYGMA’S UNGRATEFUL ASS 2K16

150) Meaningful

151) Murder Sempai and the Ungrateful Kid in Time-Out

152)  What the heckle deckle did you just diddly done say about me, you little nerd? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Meme Team, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on The Captor, and I have over 3 confirmed riddle solves. I am trained in online research and I’m the top blogger in the entire rids army. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you clean out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my diddly words. You think you can get away with saying that lie to me over the Internet? Think again, meanie. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across Team Lazarus and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your riddleS. You’re dead, Hush. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can out meme you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in internrt combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of Google and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable hints off the face of the continent, you little twerp.  If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” kidnapping was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your undank memes.. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you snake.  I will rain puns all over you and you will drown in it. You’re dead, you viper.

153) Thank you, Codot

154) AFTER PARTY

155) AFTER PARTY (Thank you, Codot)

156) Hush: I finally have it, the brightest of minds…. *taps into followers minds* // Followers: nEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWNNNN // Hush: what the f-

157) 4311791161/174743432/17237911/974773/7353

158) Happy Birthday, Bill!

159) #GiveCrocaDuckling2k16

160) Password: M O N A R C H

161) #GiveJonathanCraneHisRingBack2k17

162) #GiveAllTheRougesBetterChildhoods2kforver

163) SaveZsasz2k16

164) #ChangeTheEducationSystem2k16

165) #IbelieveinZsazs

166) Clayface is at it again

167) Team Blanket Fort

168) Sionis’s Poor Mini Golf Score

169) Recollective Music Box

170) TEAM BERET

171) #TeamMimikyu

172) FUCK U TEAM BOARDGAME HAT

173) wow

174) screw you guys i’m going home

175) MASQUERADE PAPER FACES ON PARADE

176) a disaster beyond imagination

177) BRING DOWN THE CHANDELIER

178) paaaast the point of no return

179) Riddler’s butt club

180) IM NOT CLAYFACE OMF

181) Riddler’s peanut gallery

182) And how does that make you feel?

183) Codot save us from the math

184) Codot, Challenger Of Trig 2k16

185) THE MIDDLE FINGET

186) Monarch

187) How to train your fly trap by Pamela Isley

188) How to train your fly trap by Pamela Isley (Illustrated by Harley)

189) How to train your fly trap by Pamela Isley (Illustrated by Harley) And brought to life by Edward Nygma (narrator) and Jonathan Crane (fly trap)

190) Team Lazarus: Study Group

191) Riddle me this

192) It’s Sad O’ Clock

193) FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

194) Team Lazarus is breaking down Arkham’s door!

195) Monarch

196) New Title

197) Bookworm did nothing wrong and is precious

198) Asshole McAsshole Nashton: Edward’s father

199) Ashton Nashton Strikes Again

200) Team Lazarus: So extra

201) Protect Query from gross men

202) ANARCHY

203) “I am vengeance. I am the night. I AM MONARCH OF MENACE!

204) COME ON AND SLAM! AND WELCOME TO THE JAM!

205) Hannah’s at it again

206) Roman mcasshole Sionis

207) LetAlfredoBeHappy2k16

208) Pasta Shame

209) Team Lazarus’s Civil War: Don’t Cry Over Spilled Spaghetti

210) MASS SEND HROO HRAA

211) Hroo Hraa Secured

212) Operation: Make Edward Trust Us

213) #MakeEddieTrustUs2k17

214) Team Tiny Hroos

215) Detective Wayne- it’s me, Edward!

216) Indy’s Cane Thighs 👀

217) Nightmares and hell spawn

218) Leo got that dank fear toxin 👀👀👀

219) Den of Snakes

220) Den of Snakes

221) Den of Sneks (and one fox)

222) Dat Snort Tho

223) Haroo haraa

224) Snek snek snek snek snek

225) Get that stanky broken bond stuff away from me

226) Brown my lord and savior

227) Meet Zsaszarus Pit in the Lazarus Pit where its Lazarus Lit

228) MEET ME IN THE COURT, THOMAS

229) Sinister Memes

239) Hannah is Clayface. Must elminate Hannah.

240) I AM NOT CLAYFACE

241) ProtectStrawChild2k16

242) Don’t talk to me or my children about that 3D Batman cartoon EVER AGAIN

243) Alfredo Pennyworth 2k16

244) IT’S RAINING FURRIES

245) Mom Squad

246) Crane Spank

247) Crane Spank - Rated G for everyone

248) I will not embrace that man - Jonathan Crane

249) Swiggity swooty comin’ for that booty

250) Jervis is a smol bun bun

251) I AM NAUGHT CLAYFACE

252) I AM NAUGHT CLAYFACE (She lies)

253) I AM NAUGHT CLAYFACE (She lies) SO, NEGATIVE CLAYFACE?

254) CodotisaGift2k16

245) [7:15:18 AM]  Make like a Crane and burn him down

246) #Rogues!LittleShopOfHorrors

247) Dig Dug Dimmadome

248) Jello Crane

249) Support Sanna 2k16

250) Jon Crane the Science Train

251) The Scarecrow and his Tiny Hroos

252) The Scarecrow and his Tiny Hroos

253) Crane save us from the angry cheeto man

254) Alpacutie255) #KingCodot

256) Francesco the tap dancing cocktail shrimp

257) LetVictorAndNoraBeHappy2k16

258) Indy the cutest (snek)

259) 🎉Happy Birthday, Indy the cutest (snek) 🎉

260) Support Bookworm 2k16

261) Codot Is Our King, He Should V/O Everything

262) Jon, Jon, Jon, TITS, cats

263) #KingSkeletor

264) Give your bae the FLIPPER

265) Ahem... TITTYSPRINKLES AWAAAAAAAAAAY!

266) Zsasz vs Codot meme battle

267) Jonathan Crane's Rent is Too Damn High

268) "IF YOU DIE IN THE GAME YOU DIE FOR REAL

269) FUCKING DOUSE ME IN FEAR TOXIN IDGAF I AM WILLING I AM READY

270) Aesthetic: Edward paired with Que Sera Sera

271) Aesthetic: Edward Nygma Kinkshaming Jonathan Crane

272) Jonathan Crane Loves The Sideboob

273) Lego Batman Voice: I'M BATMAN

274) Zsasz will fight your bullies for free

275) Drumpf The Sith Lord

276) Please no political stuff thank you

277) Oh my god Codot (TM)

278) "Oh my Godot

279) RIP Leo the Viper, October 2016-November 2016 🙏🙏🙏

280) RIP Leo the PENGUIN, October 2016-November 2016 🙏🙏🙏

281) #IBelieveInBookworm

282) #ICan'tBelieveZsazsisBookworm

283) _removed conversation name_

284) BLANK

285) SIX MILLION TONS OF WHITE BULLSHIT ON MY DRIVEWAY

286) Everyone Boop Zsasz's nose

287) Psyche

288) Hannah's teachers are crazy

289) CODOT: QUEEN OF FRANCE

290) Spats on Cats

291) The Great Gaysby

292) Alfredo is the parent they deserve #SaveThem

293) Scarecrows Long Leggies

294) Give Edward His Glasses Back 2K16

295) Never Forget

296) Zsasz your local gentle farmerer just wants to tend to her goats

297) Zsasz your local gentle farmemer just wants to tend to her goats

298) Jonathan Crane: The Point Hoarder

299) Spats Over Spandex, Fashions By Leo

300) "Riddle meme this, Batman!"

301) Spoopy Jono

302) Save me from the bad sci-fi

303) Scarebeast vs. Riddlebot

304) _removed conversation name_

305) 1 v 1 me mate

306) Fight Club: Team Lazarus Edition

307) Law and Order: Team Lazarus edition

308) FUZZ WILL RISE AGAIN

309) It's your local Scarebro and his spooky sales

310) All hail Brown, Keeper of the Lazarus Records

311) All hail Sanna, keeper of the AUs

312) Wayne!Rouges headcanon HQ

313) Do not let the dank city fall

314) DO IIIIIT

315) Crane: They're so goddamn stupid

316) Team Lazarus Is Torn Apart By Overwatch

317) Team Lazarus: a bunch of gleeful homewreckers.

318) Pyro marries Team Lazarus

319) Short people vs tall people: The Codot Wars

320) Question Mark Codpiece. Yep.

321) Yes Glitter

322) NO GLITTER

323) Things heating up in the glitter fandom

324) Pray for Zsasz

325) We are all Tesla

326) *FIGHT HANNAH'S TEACHER*

327) *FIGHT HANNAH'S TEACHER AND CLASSMATES*

328) Law and Order: Team Lazarus Edition episode 2

329) The Fashion Police: Team Lazarus Edition

330) "Emerald colored - he's so pretentious. It's GREEN." - Jonathan about Edward @ some point

331) Jon's crows and various corvids

332) Wanna know how I got these scars?

333) probably got them scars from a drunk dare dude

334) AIN'T NO PARTY LIKE A CODOT PARTY 'CAUSE A CODOT PARTY DON'T STOP

335) codot pls voice morgan freeman in gotham. not as lucius, just morgan freeman.

336) leo vs edward nygma

337) Hello Naughty Children It's Sad Time)

338) Hi Diddle Diddle It's Dr Riddle

339) Codot was here, but he was sent to bed. YOLO.

340) Smol Rids in Space *NYOOM*

341) RAH RAH RAH MASTER OF FEAR)

342) HRAA HRAA HRAA MASTER OF FEAR

343) Au central

344) Don't mention Edward's 500+ issues to him or he'll have a meltdown and likely recluse to a shell of his former self

345) Sanna go to bed

346) Sanna went to bed

347) Sanna went to bed (at last)

348) N E V E R  F O R G E T

349) Waiting For Alfredo to snatch us

350) No One Expects the Boop-quisition

351) PIANO IS MY PARAMOUR

352) Cause he's a primadonna girl, yeah /all he ever wanted was batmans id

353) Happy Birthday Spoopy

354) Doctor Crane and His Horde of Interns

355) Doctor Crane and His Horde of Interns (Also Molly is my #queen support her 2k16)

356) Do Not Send Crane Bee Movie Quotes

357) According to all known laws of aviation...

358) Alex no. You're grounded.

359) there is no way a bee should be able to fly.

360) Go home, Alex.

361) Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.

362) COME ON AND SLAM

363) IF I GO OUT IT'S GOING TO BE BY FEAR TOXIN NOT SOME ORANGE CHEETO MAN

364) okay but have you seen trump's caterpillar

365) Killer croc is awesome

366) PROFESSOR CRANE MY KING (emojis removed)

367) LET RALPH HAVE HIS PEN 2k16

368) Let scarecrow have his classic origin in rebirth 2016

369) Let Jon have a scythe again 2k16

370) Hannah is still Clayface, BEWARE

371) Ban Lindsey 5ever

372) #LetIvySing2k16

373) Harvey Dent: Matchmaker Extraordinaire. :D

374) Our Lord and Saviour Jonathan Crane can handle trashy students. Unfortunately, Thomas Elliot is a SUPER trashy student

375)  Ferret Lord Jonathan Crane 2k16

376) Jon is no longer ferret lord worthy

377) Make Crane love ferrets 2k16

378) Slenderman Only Fears Jonathan Crane

379) Me, banging my cooking pots outside of DC headquarters: LET FEMALE VILLAINS BE VILLAINOUS

380) CONFIRMED

381) Promote the garbage man to garbage boss

382) Everything Changed When the Boop Nation Attacked

383) Blessed by the spoopy presence of detective

384) ProtectIkky2k16

385) rip doctor spooky

386) DON'T HATE ON OTHERS BECAUSE YOU MADE A POOR GUESS

387) RIP HANNAH

388) Trigonometry more like trigoNOmetry

389) Mother Nature can take her frozen tears and throw them into the sun

390) A Rainbow of Bullshit

391) Ames deserves better 2k16

392) Bolton confirmed republican

393) Dollar Store Bane

394) Indy still needs to fight me in the pit

395) Ames V Indy: FIGHT ACROSS CANADA

396) Here I go, here I go, here I go again! Gotham, What's my weakness? Riddles!

397) fuck you

398) The power of puns compels you!

399) i've ascended good and evil fuck you all

400) Lego my fuckin eggo

401) Leo's corner

402) CONFIRMED

403) NOT CONFIRMED

404) C ON F I R M E D

405) DOUBLE C ON F I R M E D

406) DOUBLE C O N F I R M E D

407) FIGHTFIGHT

408) The coin says you're a punk-ass bitch -Harvey Dent, 2016

409) Becky deserves better 2k16

410) Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow

411) Who wants to date this Riddle Cutie?

412) DO YOUR HOMEWORK, TEAM LAZARUS

413) Eddie, you're one clever S.O.B.

414) Codot is the Spanish Inquisition

415) Home work more like n o.

416) FEARBREEZE

417) Gotta go spray the room with my fearbreeze

418) Why is Codot ass deep in medical notes?

419) codoot did the noot noot

420) Leo & Codot Sitting in a Tree…

421) Team Lazarus > Codot

422) eam Lazarus = Codot

423) ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD

424) Leo is pretty cool

425) Hickory Dickory Doc

426) You can't just marry everyone Pyro

427) Jervis is a weeb, Edward is a weeb, hell, we're all weebs

428) “Retreat, retreat! It’s all a part of my cunning plan, really!”

429) #LetEdwardPlayPiano2k16

430) Im gonna name my mimikkyu "Eddie" because they both just want to be loved

431) Professional Chicken Holder

432) _removed conversation name_

433) http://lankybrunettepartdeux.tumblr.com/private/153587955220/tumblr_oh4qhizCiE1u7xkfs

434) (turkey) (turkey) (turkey)

435) #codootdoot

436) Jon didn't do anything wrong

437) Jon did a lot fo things wrong but not all of them

438) Riddler does not get drunk, children. The Riddler just has fun.

439) STUCK IN THE FEAR JEANS FOREVER

440) Fear Jeans

441) STUCK IN THE FEAR JEANS FOREVERZ

442) rankled

443) rankled fear jeans

444) WRITING IDEAS FUCK YEAH

445) They are all here...in the Twilight Zone *doo doo doo doo doo doo doo*

446) RIDDLER'S LABEL PEN RETURNS

447) Clayface is my hero

448) King COdot

449)  King Codot

450)King Codootdoot

451) KINGshame Codoot

452) Tea Time w Hannah

453) Cake Wars

454) This chat title will now change every one minute

455) Hello mtv welcome to my crib *points at sinkhole in ground*

456) HUMPSUIT

457) END OF DAYS: A Telltale Games Series

458) "THANKS DAD" IM SCREAMINF

459) Jonathan Cr-EH-ne

460) TWO F-EH-CE

461) Memeobile, Codotcycle, and 2013 toyota corolla

462) FEED ME

463) what the frick frack paddywhack is this fucking cat

464) YOU'RE UNDER ARREST CUTIE

465) HANNAH'S SISTER CONFIRMS, HANNAH IS CLAYFACE

467) HANNAH IS THE ALPHA TWIN

468) HANNAH IS THE ALPHA TWIN

469) Hannah is Clayface, sister confirms

470) THE DAD MOM

471) s top with monarch i am tIRED

472) ikky licky his dicky

473) ikky licky his sTICKY NOTES JOKES

474) “jack call me jackie nashton”

475) KATIE WON THE HUNGER GAMES

476) SO PROUD OF LEO WINNING THE HUNGER GAMES

477) WAYLON DESERVES TO WIN THE HUNGRY GAMES

478) WAYLON WON THE HUNGER GAMES IN MY HEART

479) The coin says you're a punk ass bitch

480) KILLER COCK

481) hi diddle, cockzilla fucked my riddle

482) hi diddle diddle, cockzilla fucked my riddle

483) Ames and Indy official OTP

484) Codot dies from thirst

485) Indy dies from Programmer Dad Thirst

486) Gotham Thugs: The Musical!

487) This is discrimination against farmers and i have several pages of objections ranging from hatred on hay to blasphemy against my beans

488) Zsasz vs Zsasz Dad

489) Go to bed Sanna

490) Zsasz Vs the 21 other people in this chat pt 2

491) "We talked, we drowned people, we told our life stories!!!" -Emma 2016

492) Batman is judging you

493) Team Lazarus: Fire and friendship

494) CROC WITH PUPPIES

495) #Let DCCharactersHaveNiceThings2KForever

496) Almost 500 tittles

497) C'mon guys, we can make it! :D

498) My hotline isn't bling rn -Zsasz

499) Team Lazarus, blasting off again!

500) FIVE HUNDRED 500NER THAN EXPECTED

501) HAMBURGER MAN CONFIRMED TWO FACE

502) Codot is the oldest twin #Confirmed

503) Crane (singing and prepping a fear toxin injection): Granny got run over by a reindeer…

504) Crane (singing and prepping fear toxin): Granny got run over by a reindeer...

505) Batdad would like to have a word in the Batcave

506) endgame: edward kinkshaming jonathan for slapping his ass

507) CODOR

508) CODOR (Translation: "YOU SHOULD ALL BE LOCKED UP IN A CAGE WITHOUT A KEY!")

509) 2016: so bad the waynes might as well be murdered again

510) MITHRA MEOW

511) Knock Ivy and Jervis out with Dr. Spoop

512) HAPPY HOLIDAYS Y'ALL

513) AMES QUEEN OF KICKASS OCS

514) Hi my name is ethan darkness dementia raven cobblepot and i have peroxide blonde hair and blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me i look like dick grayson

515) RIP Jonathan Crane was fucking destroyed by Becky Albright

516) Tempting Fate

517) Pray 4 Leo

518) Pray That Leo’s Tablet Clears Customs

519) THE JELLO CUP STRIKES BACK

520) KING CODOT STRIKES AGAIN

521) Codot is a peach

522) time to shove a scythe up hIS ASS

523) Codot is a strange mutant adult child #Confirmed

524) LetRiddlerCry#2k16

525) The Riddler People Vs Codot

526) Codot's Cross-Ocean Speedo

527) We are assholes team lazarus

528) We are (assholes) team lazarus

529) Sarah's explosive flatulence

530) Codot the mediocre skype god

531) Codot the magnificent skype god

532) Riddler's Depressed Combat Bots

533) LetJonathanSayWhoopAss2k17

534) Give us the Red Hood/Rogues Kill Bill Joker hunt

535) Pray circle for Indy

536) SEXY LEXI LUTHOR

537) GOTHAM PRINCESS BRIDE GOTHAM PRINCESS BRIDE

538) Deathstroke the Strokedeath

539) Team Lazarus is breaking down, that's it. Nothing new here.

540) CODOT IS THE NUMBER ONE FOLKS

541) you got 2 leggies get walkin

542) WHERE'S MY MONEY YOU DIRTY BAGUETTE

543) LEO'S GOT A TABLET AGAIN

544) Leo and Ames: Defenders of the Gecko

545) Spoopy Birb

546) GIVE ME JESTER HARLEY OR GIVE ME DEATH

547) "I'll LEAF you to your thoughts."

548) because uncly Clayface is my friend

549) lizards are magic fuck you steve

550) Team Lazarus calls are magic

551) Happy Holidays ya memer

552) england sucks

553) MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMALS!!

554) well i just listened and my icy heart is now a furnace

555) Sad oclock is always on the horizon

556) Shine bright like dick graysons 90's suit

557) INDY MADE A PUNNY

558) CODOT RUINS CHRISTMAS 2016

559) CODOT RUINS BOXING DAY

560) FUCK 2016 SIDEWAYS WITH A CROWBAR

561) Death Titties

562) Codot's Pointy Death Titties

563) Indy was a Canadian before it was cool

564) ZSAZS PARLE LE FUCKING FRANÇAIS

565) CANADIAN DEATH MATCH

566)  Is the sun a giant space heater

567) the fresh thane of scotland

568) Indy is a meme

569) FAREWELL 2016

570) Better step up your game the bis are your greatest hurdle

571) We are all sned

572) #LetEddiebe5'1 2k17

573) TOLS VS SMOLS 2K17

574) Dear Sylvester: Please don't kill clayface

575) Oops

576) Is that a challenge?

577) Purple Cauliflower is beautiful and should not be hated on 2k17

578) OSCAR ISAAC AS HARVEY DENT 2k17

579) MARK HAMILL MVP

580) KING DRURY MOTHMAN CONFIRMED

581) LEOOOOOOOOOOOOO

582) Ivy and the horrible baguette

583) Zsasz failed

584) #IBelieveInZsasz

585) Lep

586) EXPOSE ZSASZ 2K17

587) Tis I, the frenchiest fry

588) I will keep this title until Leo returns to symbolize how much I miss his absence

589) Riddler can't grow a beard so he just grows everything else instead

590) "Riddler can't grow a beard so he just grows everything else instead" - Indy, 01/13/2017

591) Operation: Leo Punches All The Riddlers

592) Operation: Leo Punches All The Riddlers, starting with Ames

593) YOOOOOU'RE HERE, THE FRENCHIEST FRY IS NEEEEAR,

594) ROGUES MUSICAL

595) "It's Gotham, reasonably wears spandex" -Hayden Ayala

596) SWEET SMELL OF SUCC

597) There's no 'I' in team but there is an 'I' in pizza

598) #IbelieveinHannah

599) Operation: "Fight Shitty Teachers" is underway

600) My brain is an intricate ecosystem which is on fire

601) DREAM TEAM MEME TEAM- RALPH, HAYDEN, AND AMIR

602) SYLVESTER SURPRISE

603) THERE'S A GUN TO YOUR HEAD AND DEATH IN HIS EYES

604) CLUB PENGUIN

605) Sucant Dehydrogenase more like SUCCant dehydrogenase

606) George Orwell can fight me

607) Mr Freeze studies CRY-ogenics

608) CODOT'S A DORK

609) MONARCH THEATRE

610) The perfume is a lie

611) We're never going to make it to 1,000 names at this rate

612) WE CAN DAMN WELL TRY

613) An epic quest of name-changing begins

614) WE GOTTA

615) Forgive my memeing sins

616) Chat name that's the entirety of the Bee Movie script

617) Chat name that's- NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP

618) the size of riddler size of riddler's mASSIVE EGO

620) his peen's much smaller than his ego

621) Team flirt with almost all mols and their bosses

622) HROO HRAA SECURED

623) LICKY

624) Reasonably Priced Sarcasm

625) Reasonably Priced Sarcasm (Roll back on that attitude)

636) Whomst'd've'lu'yaint'nt'ed'ies's'y'es'nt't're'ing'able'tic'ive'al'nt'ne'm'll'ble'al'ny'less'w'ck'k'ly'py'nd'idy'ety'st'ged'ful'ish'ng'my'ous

637) Explain your misery in terms of how much you hate chem and fuck yous

638) Crazy Quilt is our new mascot sorry jon

639) Ta-dah! Sard broken

640) Team Lazarus goes to McDonald's

641) (งಠ_ಠ)ง

642) YAINT

643) BLOCKED DELETED UNFOLLOWED

644) Hannan

645) Arkham's newest inmate: The Monarch Theater

646) Codot is a teasing bastard

647) THE MEMEWORM STRIKES

648) STOPHENCHMENBULLYING2K17

649) STOPHENCHMENBULLYING2K17 (ALSO STOPSNAKESNAMEDKATIE2K17)

650) TEAM LAZARUS IN A TRENCHCOAT

651) Zsasz is the meme snake

652) #TEAMLAZARUSFIGHTSTHEEDUCATIONALSYSTEM

653) #memesoutfotzsasz

654) In this house we appreciate Codot

655) AMES IS A CUTE, DISCUSS

656) BROWN IS A CUTE, DISCUSS

657) Team Lazarus is filled with cuties: Discuss

658) Eddie and Ozzie: BrOTP For Life

659) Beware the Ides of March.

660) -pation

661) What is human

662) #IBelieveInLeo

663) BUTTS, GEORGIA

664) YAY EMMA

665) fuckin ninja nibs

666) Schemer is Poison Ivy! Spread the word!!!

667) Spoopy Dorito

668) Professor Spoopy Dorito PhD-MD

669) SNES

670) WAYLON MY BOY

671) Time for Jon to be a Major Asshole™

672) We Are All Clayface

673) I want you and your windows xp level memes out of my h OUSE

674) GIVE ME ALL YOUR SNOW

675) All's fair in love and mario kart

676) Happy Ides of March

677) KLARION THE BITCH BOY

678) Do you wanna kink or the fic -Zsasz

679) Katie Unwittingly Interrupts Serious Time in the Chat With Stupid Link

680) Leo needs to go to the SHAME CUBE

681) Ames is a beautiful Canadian princess and I love her

682) Lemme just jot that down in my "Big List Of Manipulative Dick Moves For Jon To Make"

683) Zsasz, please do not fight the Penguin.  For your own safety.

684) Zsasz, please do not fight the Penguin. For your own safety. -Amie, 2017

685) The Great Soprano-Alto War

686) We Do Not, Leo.

687) i aint capullo

688) leo is capullo

689) Leo's art is dank

690) either cannibal or gay -Leo 2k17

691) My what a guy that Baaaaaaane

692) dark katies blog show me the hidden memes

693) uncovers batman's chest, revealing dem nipples behold

694) Tobias Whale can eat from the bag of infinite dicks.

695) AMES IS A CUTE

696) Codot could be lured to his death by Ames

697) Ames, please just visit the poor man!

698) Ames will visit the poor man when she gets the motivation and chance

699) 👀

700) Ames is the dankest meme

701) Ames is banned from 1v1-ing people

702) Edward Nygma is Nerd: discuss

703) Like 'I just mixed meth with crack and a splash of heroin and drank the thing like it was water in a desert'

704) We are drowning in the bred. Lik the bred.

705) I refuse to get verbally frisky with myself

706) I refuse to get verbally frisky with myself -Codot, 2017

707) I Believe in Jonathan Crane

708) And the SAD RP AWARD goes to ... Slyv

709) And the SAD RP AWARD goes to ... Sylvester stallone

710) OUR LORD AND SAVIOR DORITO CRANE

711) Leo gonna roast clayface so hard clayface'll become pottery

712) 19v1 everyone in this chat v ames

713) Zsasz 👏 Did 👏 No 👏 Wrong

714) #StopZsaszBullying2K17 715) #StopZsaszBullying2K17 (katie is innocent)

716) #StopKatieBullying2K17

717) http://lankybrunettepartdeux.tumblr.com/post/158985611430/when-theres-trouble-who-you-gonna-call-not

718) when there's trouble, who you gonna call? not edward because he's probably there anyway

719) President OSWALD 2020

720) leo and codot sITTIN IN A TREE

721) UKK YSE CREATIVITEA

722) I pray at my altar of sluts

723) ames more like aMESS

724) ProtectAmes2k17

725) Leo's Career Pseudonym: Not Greg Capullo

726) You gotta keep up to date on all the hot Team Lazarus memes

727) #TeamCondimentKing

728) #TeamCrazyQuilt

729) #TeamKiteMan

730) #TeamEgghead

731) #TeamKillerMoth

732) #TeamKingCobra

733) #TeamKillerCroc

734) #TeamKingCodot

735) #TeamLazarus

736) E G G

737) PYRO'S PROFESSOR IS CRANE #CONFIRMED

738) ALL CANADIANS ARE VIPERS

739) ALL CANADIANS (except amy ofc what an angel) ARE VIPERS

740) ALL CANADIANS (specially amy ofc) ARE VIPERS

741) Go the fuck to sleep, Brown! - Samuel L. Jackson

742) Think on your sins Lindsey

743) aH FUCMED IP

744) Leo stop looking @ the skype group and go nap gdi

745) HANZO IS TITTY ARCHER MAN

746) AMES NO

747) "Birds have nipples!"

748) oswald: imma suck the ornithonipnops

749) Katie the cyberbully

750) Katie n the Heelies sounds like a great band name

751) Chungus Humongous

752) Draw me like one of your sexy Jim Gordon's

753) Someone cure Katie's thirst for Jim Gordon

754) Judge Leo is now in court

755) Let Leo use a british accent 2k17

756) AMES' EMBARASSING PAST

757) y'all'd've g'dabbed

758) Rip amy killed by leo 2k17

759) I never stop. I MUST NEVER STOP. -Codot 2k17

760) #IkkyProtectionSquad

761) Leo spreads fake informaion like butter 2k17

762) Scaring Ames 2k17

763) why do you son

764) special memes for special ppl

765) Team Lazarus: Obsessed with the Zsaszarus

766) Zsasz is the new young god confirmed

767) *record scratch* so you're probably wondering how i became a cult idol 768) The Riddler Who Can't Solve Riddles

769) M'AIDER Stranded Frisk

770) BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL

771) Ames, please explain WTF Canada is.

772) War of the heights

773) Little oyster

774) Amie has done nothing wrong.

775) #giveamescoffee2k17

776) Wow I can't believe Leo is the fucking pope

777) Wow I can't believe (amy) is the fucking pope

778) Wow can't believe Leo is actually Cthulhu

779) Leo should go to bed instead of eating doritos on a burger :):):)

780) Ames was an scene kid, discuss.

781) Believe in the nipple priest

782) Believe in the Nipple Priests

783) Clayface stop changing this without context or I will rip off your eye

784) Clayface stop changing this without context or I will rip off your eyelids

785) LONG LIVE THE NIPPLE PRIESTS

786) GO BACK TO BE POTTERY, CLAYFACE

787) Que sera sera, binch

788) Ikky is best birb

789) Everybody sue leo

790) I’ll fight you, strawman

791) There is a Strawman waiting in the sky

792) I <3 Amie

793) I LOVE ALPACA

794) I swim with dolphins at my own pace - Alpaca for president 2020

795) ames is a cute, confirmed

796) The things this chat makes me read

797) IM A CTUALLY CALLING THE RCMP

798) Jonathan and Oswald attend furrycon together

799) Jonathan, Oswald, and Selina attend furrycon together

800) hello my name is ebony darkness dementia raven way I have long black f

801) hello my name is ebony darkness dementia raven way I have long black fur and blood red eyes and i n'ya a lot

802) I can't believe Cluemaster is from Ames' town

803) Y'ALL'RE DIRTY SINNERS

804) ZSASZ WE'RE SORRY PLEASE COME BACK

805) Katie hecked up so badly we are gonna see a shitpost of the shitpost

806) KATIE IS PURE AND IS VOID OF LEO'S SIN

807) Leo is my confirmed memer in crime

808) PYGMALION MORE LIKE PYGMALINO

809) ames wants a trudeau body pillow, don't believe her lies

810) cant believe katie encourages leos bad habits smh dead 2 me

811) #GiveCraneAYellowRing2k17

812) Katie 4 president (of my  ❤ if i have one)

813) ames secretly loves the pyg

814) MY QUEEN AMES

815) Are you a chouchou person or a moonmoon person

816) we are Bros or Foes no inbetween

817) Wow I can't believe the dirty baguette is responsible for Jon's Arkham asylum outfit

818) Leo is a snek #confirmed

819) HES A FILTHY FEAR BOY

820)  I prefer my clowns without legs

821) Thou hath me shooketh

822) MIEF

823) A DEN OF MIEFS

824) When u gotta carve that pig bc bae is coming but u feed ur victims to ur pigs???? (Emojies removed bc they fucked with the document)

825) When bae says he didnt poison ur wine 😍😍😍❤❤❤❤👅👅👅👅👅👅✊✊✊✊💦💦💦💦💦

826)Can't believe Katie wants to marry Lucenzo Daddy-tino 😧😧😧

827) Katie just wants to live with Harvey Bullock and his cats, thank u very much

828) LET 👏 DADDY-TINO 👏 LIVE 👏

829) Katie cheated Luncenzo with Bullock and thats why Bullock is dead

830)Can't believe Bullock got decked my Katies THOT 😭😭😭😭

831) Can't believe Katies THOT tried to seduce Jonathan Crane via pork dinner and expensive wine 😭📞🚔🚔🚔🚔

832) i can't believe oswald cobblepot is taller than ames (insert a million emoji's here)

833) i can't believe oswald cobblepot is taller than ames 😭😭😭✊✊✊💦💦💦👅👅👅👀👀👀

834) Famemely of Meifs

835) Memebers of the Mief Famemely

836) EVERYTHING THREATENS TO GO TO SHIT...AGAIN

837) LET EDWARD NYGMA HAVE A THICC BOOTY 2K17

838) RIDDLER HAS NO BUTT

839) ur'e

840) B O I

841) According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign..

842) According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're 👏gonna👏 take👏 him 👏up👏. Really? 👏Feeling..

843) CRASHIN MY SKYPE YA GODLESS HEATHEN

844) According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign..

845) NOOOOOOOO

846) According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign..

847) IM PUTTIN MY FOOT DOWN

848) According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign..

849) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

850) Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort which could only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon. Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison, but non prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for her true love and true love's first kiss. (laughs) Like that's ever gonna happen. What a load of - (toilet flush)  Allstar - by Smashmouth begins to play. Shrek goes about his day. While in a nearby town, the villagers get together to go after the ogre.                 NIGHT - NEAR SHREK'S HOME                                     MAN1Think it's in there?                                      MAN2All right. Let's get it!                                      MAN1Whoa. Hold on. Do you know what that thing can do to you?                                       MAN3Yeah, it'll grind your bones for it's bread.  Shrek sneaks up behind them and laughs.                                      SHREKYes, well, actually, that would be a giant. Now, ogres, oh they're much worse. They'll make a suit from your freshly peeled skin.                                       MENNo!                                      SHREKThey'll shave your liver. Squeeze the jelly from your eyes! Actually, it's quite good on toast.                                       MAN1Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya! (waves the torch at Shrek.)  Shrek calmly licks his fingers and extinguishes the torch. The men shrink back away from him. Shrek roars very loudly and long and his breath extinguishes all the remaining torches until the men are in the dark.                                       SHREKThis is the part where you run away. (The men scramble to get away. He laughs.) And stay out! (looks down and picks up a piece of paper. Reads.) "Wanted. Fairy tale creatures."(He sighs and throws the paper over his shoulder.)                                          THE NEXT DAYThere is a line of fairy tale creatures. The head of the guard sits at a table paying people for bringing the fairy tale creatures to him. There are cages all around. Some of the people in line are Peter Pan, who is carrying Tinkerbell in a cage, Gipetto who's carrying Pinocchio, and a farmer who is carrying the three little pigs.                                       GUARDAll right. This one's full. Take it away! Move it along. Come on! Get up!                                                                HEAD GUARDNext!                                      GUARD(taking the witch's broom) Give me that! Your flying days are over. (breaks the broom in half)                                       HEAD GUARDThat's 20 pieces of silver for the witch. Next!                                       GUARDGet up! Come on!                                      HEAD GUARDTwenty pieces.                                      LITTLE BEAR(crying) This cage is too small.                                      DONKEYPlease, don't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please! Give me another chance!                                       OLD WOMANOh, shut up. (jerks his rope)                                      DONKEYOh!                                      HEAD GUARDNext! What have you got?                                      GIPETTOThis little wooden puppet.                                      PINOCCHIOI'm not a puppet. I'm a real boy. (his nose grows)                                       HEAD GUARDFive shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away.                                       PINOCCHIOFather, please! Don't let them do this! Help me!  Gipetto takes the money and walks off. The old woman steps up to the table.                                       HEAD GUARDNext! What have you got?                                      OLD WOMANWell, I've got a talking donkey.                                      HEAD GUARDRight. Well, that's good for ten shillings, if you can prove it.                                       OLD WOMANOh, go ahead, little fella. Donkey just looks up at her.                                      HEAD GUARDWell?                                      OLD WOMANOh, oh, he's just...he's just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. Talk, you boneheaded dolt...                                       HEAD GUARDThat's it. I've heard enough. Guards!                                                                OLD WOMANNo, no, he talks! He does. (pretends to be Donkey) I can talk. I love to talk. I'm the talkingest damn thing you ever saw.                                       HEAD GUARDGet her out of my sight.                                      OLD WOMANNo, no! I swear! Oh! He can talk! The guards grab the old woman and she struggles with them. One of her legs flies out and kicks Tinkerbell out of Peter Pan's hands, and her cage drops on Donkey's head. He gets sprinkled with fairy dust and he's able to fly.                                       DONKEYHey! I can fly!                                      PETER PANHe can fly!                                      3 LITTLE PIGSHe can fly!                                      HEAD GUARDHe can talk!                                      DONKEYHa, ha! That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking donkey. You might have seen a housefly, maybe even a superfly but I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly. Ha, ha! (the pixie dust begins to wear off) Uh-oh. (he begins to sink to the ground.)  He hits the ground with a thud.                                      HEAD GUARDSeize him! (Donkey takes of running.) After him!                                       GUARDSHe's getting away! Get him! This way! Turn!  Donkey keeps running and he eventually runs into Shrek. Literally. Shrek turns around to see who bumped into him. Donkey looks scared for a moment then he spots the guards coming up the path. He quickly hides behind Shrek.                                       HEAD GUARDYou there. Ogre!                                      SHREKAye?                                      HEAD GUARDBy the order of Lord Farquaad I am authorized to place you both under arrest and transport you to a designated resettlement facility.                                                                SHREKOh, really? You and what army? He looks behind the guard and the guard turns to look as well and we see that the other men have run off. The guard tucks tail and runs off. Shrek laughs and goes back about his business and begins walking back to his cottage.                                       DONKEYCan I say something to you? Listen, you was really, really, really somethin' back here. Incredible!                                       SHREKAre you talkin' to...(he turns around and Donkey is gone) me? (he turns back around and Donkey is right in front of him.) Whoa!                                       DONKEYYes. I was talkin' to you. Can I tell you that you that you was great back here? Those guards! They thought they was all of that. Then you showed up, and bam! They was trippin' over themselves like babes in the woods. That really made me feel good to see that.                                       SHREKOh, that's great. Really.                                      DONKEYMan, it's good to be free.                                      SHREKNow, why don't you go celebrate your freedom with your own friends? Hmm?                                                                DONKEYBut, uh, I don't have any friends. And I'm not goin' out there by myself. Hey, wait a minute! I got a great idea! I'll stick with you. You're mean, green, fightin' machine. Together we'll scare the spit out of anybody that crosses us.  Shrek turns and regards Donkey for a moment before roaring very loudly..

851) SCREAMS OUT OF FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN

852) Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort which could only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon. Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison, but non prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for her true love and true love's first kiss. (laughs) Like that's ever gonna happen. What a load of - (toilet flush)  Allstar - by Smashmouth begins to play. Shrek goes about his day. While in a nearby town, the villagers get together to go after the ogre.                 NIGHT - NEAR SHREK'S HOME                                     MAN1Think it's in there?                                      MAN2All right. Let's get it!                                      MAN1Whoa. Hold on. Do you know what that thing can do to you?                                       MAN3Yeah, it'll grind your bones for it's bread.  Shrek sneaks up behind them and laughs.                                      SHREKYes, well, actually, that would be a giant. Now, ogres, oh they're much worse. They'll make a suit from your freshly peeled skin.                                       MENNo!                                      SHREKThey'll shave your liver. Squeeze the jelly from your eyes! Actually, it's quite good on toast.                                       MAN1Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya! (waves the torch at Shrek.)  Shrek calmly licks his fingers and extinguishes the torch. The men shrink back away from him. Shrek roars very loudly and long and his breath extinguishes all the remaining torches until the men are in the dark.                                       SHREKThis is the part where you run away. (The men scramble to get away. He laughs.) And stay out! (looks down and picks up a piece of paper. Reads.) "Wanted. Fairy tale creatures."(He sighs and throws the paper over his shoulder.)                                          THE NEXT DAYThere is a line of fairy tale creatures. The head of the guard sits at a table paying people for bringing the fairy tale creatures to him. There are cages all around. Some of the people in line are Peter Pan, who is carrying Tinkerbell in a cage, Gipetto who's carrying Pinocchio, and a farmer who is carrying the three little pigs.                                       GUARDAll right. This one's full. Take it away! Move it along. Come on! Get up!                                                                HEAD GUARDNext!                                      GUARD(taking the witch's broom) Give me that! Your flying days are over. (breaks the broom in half)                                       HEAD GUARDThat's 20 pieces of silver for the witch. Next!                                       GUARDGet up! Come on!                                      HEAD GUARDTwenty pieces.                                      LITTLE BEAR(crying) This cage is too small.                                      DONKEYPlease, don't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please! Give me another chance!                                       OLD WOMANOh, shut up. (jerks his rope)                                      DONKEYOh!                                      HEAD GUARDNext! What have you got?                                      GIPETTOThis little wooden puppet.                                      PINOCCHIOI'm not a puppet. I'm a real boy. (his nose grows)                                       HEAD GUARDFive shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away.                                       PINOCCHIOFather, please! Don't let them do this! Help me!  Gipetto takes the money and walks off. The old woman steps up to the table.                                       HEAD GUARDNext! What have you got?                                      OLD WOMANWell, I've got a talking donkey.      ��                               HEAD GUARDRight. Well, that's good for ten shillings, if you can prove it.                                       OLD WOMANOh, go ahead, little fella. Donkey just looks up at her.                                      HEAD GUARDWell?                                      OLD WOMANOh, oh, he's just...he's just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. Talk, you boneheaded dolt...                                       HEAD GUARDThat's it. I've heard enough. Guards!                                                                OLD WOMANNo, no, he talks! He does. (pretends to be Donkey) I can talk. I love to talk. I'm the talkingest damn thing you ever saw.                                       HEAD GUARDGet her out of my sight.                                      OLD WOMANNo, no! I swear! Oh! He can talk! The guards grab the old woman and she struggles with them. One of her legs flies out and kicks Tinkerbell out of Peter Pan's hands, and her cage drops on Donkey's head. He gets sprinkled with fairy dust and he's able to fly.                                       DONKEYHey! I can fly!                                      PETER PANHe can fly!                                      3 LITTLE PIGSHe can fly!                                      HEAD GUARDHe can talk!                                      DONKEYHa, ha! That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking donkey. You might have seen a housefly, maybe even a superfly but I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly. Ha, ha! (the pixie dust begins to wear off) Uh-oh. (he begins to sink to the ground.)  He hits the ground with a thud.                                      HEAD GUARDSeize him! (Donkey takes of running.) After him!                                       GUARDSHe's getting away! Get him! This way! Turn!  Donkey keeps running and he eventually runs into Shrek. Literally. Shrek turns around to see who bumped into him. Donkey looks scared for a moment then he spots the guards coming up the path. He quickly hides behind Shrek.                                       HEAD GUARDYou there. Ogre!                                      SHREKAye?                                      HEAD GUARDBy the order of Lord Farquaad I am authorized to place you both under arrest and transport you to a designated resettlement facility.                                                                SHREKOh, really? You and what army? He looks behind the guard and the guard turns to look as well and we see that the other men have run off. The guard tucks tail and runs off. Shrek laughs and goes back about his business and begins walking back to his cottage.                                       DONKEYCan I say something to you? Listen, you was really, really, really somethin' back here. Incredible!                                       SHREKAre you talkin' to...(he turns around and Donkey is gone) me? (he turns back around and Donkey is right in front of him.) Whoa!                                       DONKEYYes. I was talkin' to you. Can I tell you that you that you was great back here? Those guards! They thought they was all of that. Then you showed up, and bam! They was trippin' over themselves like babes in the woods. That really made me feel good to see that.                                       SHREKOh, that's great. Really.                                      DONKEYMan, it's good to be free.                                      SHREKNow, why don't you go celebrate your freedom with your own friends? Hmm?                                                                DONKEYBut, uh, I don't have any friends. And I'm not goin' out there by myself. Hey, wait a minute! I got a great idea! I'll stick with you. You're mean, green, fightin' machine. Together we'll scare the spit out of anybody that crosses us.  Shrek turns and regards Donkey for a moment before roaring very loudly.." ***

853) jESUS CHRIST ON A CROSS

854) Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort which could only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon. Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison, but non prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for her true love and true love's first kiss. (laughs) Like that's ever gonna happen. What a load of - (toilet flush)  Allstar - by Smashmouth begins to play. Shrek goes about his day. While in a nearby town, the villagers get together to go after the ogre.                 NIGHT - NEAR SHREK'S HOME                                     MAN1Think it's in there?                                      MAN2All right. Let's get it!                                      MAN1Whoa. Hold on. Do you know what that thing can do to you?                                       MAN3Yeah, it'll grind your bones for it's bread.  Shrek sneaks up behind them and laughs.                                      SHREKYes, well, actually, that would be a giant. Now, ogres, oh they're much worse. They'll make a suit from your freshly peeled skin.                                       MENNo!                                      SHREKThey'll shave your liver. Squeeze the jelly from your eyes! Actually, it's quite good on toast.                                       MAN1Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya! (waves the torch at Shrek.)  Shrek calmly licks his fingers and extinguishes the torch. The men shrink back away from him. Shrek roars very loudly and long and his breath extinguishes all the remaining torches until the men are in the dark.                                       SHREKThis is the part where you run away. (The men scramble to get away. He laughs.) And stay out! (looks down and picks up a piece of paper. Reads.) "Wanted. Fairy tale creatures."(He sighs and throws the paper over his shoulder.)                                          THE NEXT DAYThere is a line of fairy tale creatures. The head of the guard sits at a table paying people for bringing the fairy tale creatures to him. There are cages all around. Some of the people in line are Peter Pan, who is carrying Tinkerbell in a cage, Gipetto who's carrying Pinocchio, and a farmer who is carrying the three little pigs.                                       GUARDAll right. This one's full. Take it away! Move it along. Come on! Get up!                                                                HEAD GUARDNext!                                      GUARD(taking the witch's broom) Give me that! Your flying days are over. (breaks the broom in half)                                       HEAD GUARDThat's 20 pieces of silver for the witch. Next!                                       GUARDGet up! Come on!                                      HEAD GUARDTwenty pieces.                                      LITTLE BEAR(crying) This cage is too small.                                      DONKEYPlease, don't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please! Give me another chance!                                       OLD WOMANOh, shut up. (jerks his rope)                                      DONKEYOh!                                      HEAD GUARDNext! What have you got?                                      GIPETTOThis little wooden puppet.                                      PINOCCHIOI'm not a puppet. I'm a real boy. (his nose grows)                                       HEAD GUARDFive shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away.                                       PINOCCHIOFather, please! Don't let them do this! Help me!  Gipetto takes the money and walks off. The old woman steps up to the table.                                       HEAD GUARDNext! What have you got?                                      OLD WOMANWell, I've got a talking donkey.                                      HEAD GUARDRight. Well, that's good for ten shillings, if you can prove it.                                       OLD WOMANOh, go ahead, little fella. Donkey just looks up at her.                                      HEAD GUARDWell?                                      OLD WOMANOh, oh, he's just...he's just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. Talk, you boneheaded dolt...                                       HEAD GUARDThat's it. I've heard enough. Guards!                                                                OLD WOMANNo, no, he talks! He does. (pretends to be Donkey) I can talk. I love to talk. I'm the talkingest damn thing you ever saw.                                       HEAD GUARDGet her out of my sight.                                      OLD WOMANNo, no! I swear! Oh! He can talk! The guards grab the old woman and she struggles with them. One of her legs flies out and kicks Tinkerbell out of Peter Pan's hands, and her cage drops on Donkey's head. He gets sprinkled with fairy dust and he's able to fly.                                       DONKEYHey! I can fly!                                      PETER PANHe can fly!                                      3 LITTLE PIGSHe can fly!                                      HEAD GUARDHe can talk!                                      DONKEYHa, ha! That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking donkey. You might have seen a housefly, maybe even a superfly but I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly. Ha, ha! (the pixie dust begins to wear off) Uh-oh. (he begins to sink to the ground.)  He hits the ground with a thud.                                      HEAD GUARDSeize him! (Donkey takes of running.) After him!                                       GUARDSHe's getting away! Get him! This way! Turn!  Donkey keeps running and he eventually runs into Shrek. Literally. Shrek turns around to see who bumped into him. Donkey looks scared for a moment then he spots the guards coming up the path. He quickly hides behind Shrek.                                       HEAD GUARDYou there. Ogre!                                      SHREKAye?                                      HEAD GUARDBy the order of Lord Farquaad I am authorized to place you both under arrest and transport you to a designated resettlement facility.                                                                SHREKOh, really? You and what army? He looks behind the guard and the guard turns to look as well and we see that the other men have run off. The guard tucks tail and runs off. Shrek laughs and goes back about his business and begins walking back to his cottage.                                       DONKEYCan I say something to you? Listen, you was really, really, really somethin' back here. Incredible!                                       SHREKAre you talkin' to...(he turns around and Donkey is gone) me? (he turns back around and Donkey is right in front of him.) Whoa!                                       DONKEYYes. I was talkin' to you. Can I tell you that you that you was great back here? Those guards! They thought they was all of that. Then you showed up, and bam! They was trippin' over themselves like babes in the woods. That really made me feel good to see that.                                       SHREKOh, that's great. Really.                                      DONKEYMan, it's good to be free.                                      SHREKNow, why don't you go celebrate your freedom with your own friends? Hmm?                                                                DONKEYBut, uh, I don't have any friends. And I'm not goin' out there by myself. Hey, wait a minute! I got a great idea! I'll stick with you. You're mean, green, fightin' machine. Together we'll scare the spit out of anybody that crosses us.  Shrek turns and regards Donkey for a moment before roaring very loudly..

855) CHAOS IS THE NATURAL STATE OF THE UNIVERSE

856) hannah is ruining amys meme

857) AMES I RUINING BROWN'S GOOGLE DOC

858) Ames how the fuck did I miss that script mess how dare you not keep it

859) my professor is jonathan crane aND I ASKED HIM TO TEACH PSYCHOLOGY NEXT WEEK I HOPE I DIDN'T MAKE A MISTAKE -pyro sea

860) "It's like a cape, but for my legs!" -Hannah, talking about her skirt

861) "You can't just quote me on everything!" -Lexi, 2017

862) 2472

863) canya pawnya yer anya

864) ames is a babe, confirmed

865) Schemer confirmed Two-Face

866) Disco Crane will haunt your dreams

867) Some Katies just want to watch the world burn

868) Schemer is a pure bean

869) Rip Jervi Colony 2k17

870) Dark Leo show us the forbidden pimp oswald

871) COTTON EYE JONNO

872) sameo leo - Ames, definitely

873) S K I N R I M

874) Team Lazarus; The Support group that came out of nowhere

875) Team Lazarus; Support Group

876) Lame Senior Pranks

877) why are cats meow so small

878) GET RIGGETY RIGGETY REKT, SPOOP LORD

879) Team Lazarus, Home of the Mysterious Cryptidrew

880) Green Man Yells at Drop Bears

881) #freethetiddy

882) YELLOW LANTERN DISCO CRANE

883) HE SQUEAK

884) MOTHERFUCKING DUCKLINGS

885) One Gay Family

886) We Are All Shook

887) Everyones moving to Earth 24 to join the JLC sorry

888) LET ME ADOPT UR CATS BROWN OR @ LEAST TELL EM I LOVE EM

889) SEVEN NATION AMY

890) SPLOOTING

891) WHERE'S OS-WALDO

892) Avacado Bears

893) Avacado Bears or Thunder Whales

894) o canada, our home and native land, true patriot love, w fear gas in our hand

895) "It's tiptoe time bicth"

886) "Feels good feels organic"

887) Ralph The Hero We Need But Don't Deserve

888) Team Lazarus Team Mom

889) Ames, this is an intervention

890) When your alter ego calls you daddy 🤔🤔🤔🤔👅?👅?👀👀👀👀👊👊👊💦💦💦¿¿¿¿

891) KNOCK KNOC FUCKERS EGGHEAD IS HERE

892) PROTECT RIDDLER AT ALL COST

893) Episode 3 of Season 9 - Zsasz Accidentally Joins A Cult

894) sppok

895) FUCK FATHER

896) Team Dank Meh-mehs

897) Frying Pan Padre

898) frying pan pa

899) frying pan pad

900) frying pan padre

901) Running Start

902) Media Murderer

903) Nut of the Tree

904) Time to Kinkshame Canada

905) Team Lazarus Contemplate Dating

906) Eleka Nahmen Nahmen Ah Tum Ah Tum Eleka Nahmen

907) ILLUMINABEE CONFIRMED

908) dream daddy has ruined my life.

909) sure thing Brown

910) EGG BABE

911) Dorkham Asylum

912) Just Gods, being Bros

913) take a goddamn bath, Sylvester

914) no

915) the gang

916) "On April 19th, I made bread."

917) Leeroy Jyingkins

918) bllaahhhh

919) #ProtectFemaleCharactersInDraculaAndItsAdaptations2K17

920) And then we see Lindsey screaming because this is so fucking awesome

921) What the heckle deckle did you just diddly done say about me, you little nerd? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Meme Team, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on The Captor, and I have over 3 confirmed riddle solves. I am trained in online research and I’m the top blogger in the entire codot army. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you clean out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my diddly words. You think you can get away with saying that lie to me over the Internet? Think again, meanie. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across Team Lazarus and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your riddleS. You’re dead, Hush. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can out meme you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in internrt combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of Google and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable hints off the face of the continent, you little twerp.  If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” kidnapping was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your undank memes.. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you snake.  I will rain puns all over you and you will drown in it. You’re dead, you viper.

922) Y'ALL'RE KILLIN' MY POOR PHONE

923) Are we at tittle 1000 yet?

924) Plz watch young pope so i can talk abt it

925) *OFFENDED BAND KID NOISES*

926) *OFFENDED BAND KID NOISES AND CLARINET SQUEAKING*

927) *OFFENDED BAND KID NOISES AND CLARINET SQUEAKING AND SPIT VALVE GURGLING*

928) 'My room smells like fresh linens and Jesus' - My sister, 2k17

929)The question for some fucking Tim Hortons

930) The quest for some fucking Tim Hortons

931) Send a healer to Ames b4 she dies

932) Education Conversion Class

933) Shhhh he's sleeping

934) "Murder probably"

935) orf chumps

936) orc chumps

937) Protect the Orcs, their doing their best

938) Protect the Orc chumps, their doing their best

939) Protect the Orc chumps, they're doing their best

940) Team Lazarus; The Fellowship of the Riddle

941) awkward potato club

942) WORSHIP HIM FOOLS

943) Puzzle Me Like One of You French Boys

944) Puzzle Me Like One of Your French Boys

945) Make Amy the Wine Aunt 2k17

946) The Homeowners Guide to Homicide by Zsasz

947) Fre Sha Vaca Drew

948)  all i want is pizza and tea

949) diggy dig

950) rip NON's teeth

951) IT's thE FINAL COUNTDOWNNN

952) Spooky Scary Kaitons

953) Aardvark v Anteater: Battle of the Cute

954) Compromise: Red Panda

955) WOOHOO YEAH EMMA LOOK AT THIS TALENTED BEAN

956) What the fuck are vampire laws?

957) AMES IS A CRYPTID BORN IN A FIELD

958) SHIA SURPRISE

959) TODAY NON WAS BORN

960) Everyone check put Emma's art!

961) Everyone check out Emma's art!

962) We all Love Ames

963) It's The Scarecrow, not The Grim Dino Bunny!!!

964) Let Jon be what he wnats 2k17

965) Jonathan can do better than reaping bunny dinosaur! 2k17

966) If Jonathan wants to be a reaping bunny dinosaur he can

967) Jonathan can't be both the God of Fear and a Reaping Bunny Raptor!

968) LET HIM DREAM

969) THIS AIN'T A DREAM!!!

970) Remember! Reality's an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold!

971) Let's make it 9 closer, shall we!

972) 👀👀👀👀

973) Teacher Ames

974) Hello darkness my old friend

975) 🙏🏼🙏🏼 Bless this mess 🙏🏼🙏🏼

976) Friskuella 4 lyfe

977) Young just ass

978) time for tea

979) Happy Spooptober!

980) Codot is back at it again 👀👀

981) It's October and shit's bout to go down, but I want to scream about DuckTales

982) Update: Ames is as cute as ever! 👌

983) Ames expands her meme kingdom

984) Ames the hallowmeme queen

985) Meme Queen Amemes

986) Jon and Sylv #goals 😍

987) T^T Emma fails Jervis - 10/6

988) Canada is a cult #confirmed

989) Nasty Boys™

990) Celery

991) World War Tea

992) Farmer Ames vs. Poison Ivy

993) Canada is already clean

994) Frisk, liberate us from the assignments

995) I snort the gas so I can pass

996) Brown breaks down over a deleted art folder but by magic gets it back

997) #GiveScarecrowHugs2k17

998) PLEASE SAVE AMY

999) How close are we, Sassy??

1000) Operation recover pom pom

1001) TEAM LAZARUS 1001 NAMES

[fempostsbyq]

#SAYHERNAME

“Move over, Black Girl. Minimize, Black Girl. Shrink, Black Girl. Disappear, Black Girl. Don’t be so loud, Black Girl. Whisper, Black Girl. Just shut up, Black Girl. Ain’t you tired, Black Girl?” - Hannah L. Drake 

At a very young age, historically and contemporarily, Black women around the world are being dehumanized and treated unequally. Whether we are discussing Elizabeth Eckford, the first black student ever to attend a school in 1957 with white students who insulted her after the integration which was caused by Brown v. Board of Education or Sandra Bland who was pulled over for failure to turn on her turning signal, ended horribly with the officer using excessive force and telling her “I will light you up. Get out. Now.” You wanna light her up for not turning on a damn signal? Black women, and not women of color because specifically, this is a problem for Black women. 

Skylar, Skylar is my name but people call me Sky. I from the southside of Chicago, IL, attended Walter Payton High School which was on the northside. From a very young age, I learned how to code-switch, being from the hood and having to commute to my school was in a rich, white neighboorhood I was no stranger to code-switching or saving “face” my favorite sociologist, Erving Goffman would say. I grew up in a two-parent household with two younger siblings. My parents always made sure education came first especially when it came to us because they weren’t able to attend college. I was up. I was a senior in high school. I was the eldest child. Of course, It was up to me to set an example for my younger siblings. I would wake up every day, looking in the mirror, rubbing the residue of my face mask off my face, admiring my skin, the melanin. Growing up I never hated my skin color, I was proud to be dark-skin, didn’t give a fuck about what anybody said about me, until my third year at Payton, my highschool. As I began to present my final project for my AP Literature class, I asked the teacher could I turn off all the lights in the room because I hated the glare that light had on the projector. After the lights went out, this guy in my class says “Where’d Sky go?! I can’t see her, she camouflaged.” A few classmates laughed at this joke, I for one, knew that if I was back home, on the west side, I would’ve fought him, plain and simple. I had to remember what Michelle Obama would say “When they go low, we go high.” I ignored his ignorant comment, I ignored the laughter in the class, laughter that sounded loud as hyenas, laugher that pierced my ears, laughter that hurt my feelings. 

Going to Payton high school on the northside of Chicago, I was surrounded by white people. White people who were ignorant, white people who did not know any better. It was not my job to educate them which is why I allowed all of the racist and demeaning things they said about me and my blackness slide. Fast forward to senior year, when I got into Stanford, Stanford University. I remember posting my reaction video on twitter, I went viral! I was filled with joy and excitement scrolling through the replies, I stumbled by one that said “Congrats, but are you sure you got in on pure merit and not to just fill a Quota?” Imagine, getting into the school of your dreams and some old white man asking you did you get in because you were smart or was it just because Stanford needed more black people and you just happened to get picked. I deleted my video after that, was he right? Did I only get into Stanford because I was black? No that couldn’t be right I was valedictorian, I earned this, why did I delete my video? Did I believe what he said? 

I was now at Stanford, A Black woman majoring in Biology at Stanford University. Slowly I started to notice that there weren’t any African-American Professors in Stanford’s science building. Luckily, coming from Walter Payton I was used to white people staring at me walking through halls except here, at Stanford, people would stop me and have conversations with me and then say “Wow, you’re so nice. You look so mean walking around.” Did I really look mean? Why is there always something wrong with me? I don’t look mean. Maybe I do. Smile, Sky. Smile because you don’t wanna give these people the wrong ideas about you. Don’t yell when you see other Black people, because they will think you’re ghetto. But, don’t have too many white friends because Black people will think something about you. 

I made really good friends at Stanford, of course, a few microaggressions here and there, but blatant racism, once. Halloween 2019, Me and my friends went to a Halloween party and a group of guys had on costumes that for sure appropriating multiple cultures and being plain racist. One guy had on blackface, one of his friends had on a sombrero with a mustache. Picking to be another racial group for Halloween, is the epitome of disrespect. Do these people really think In America I just wake up putting on my dark-skin? I sleep Black. Wake up Black. My Black skin, is the determining factor, for some people, how they are going to treat me. People die for being Black in America, and you think you can just paint your face with black makeup like this shit is a joke. Good job Stanford, these were the people yall admitted, out of all things you could’ve been on Halloween you decided that you wanted to be Black? I had to understand that these people came from privilege, some of these people literally had only been surrounded by people that look like them- white people. They never were surrounded around people of color, they were ignorant, but that was no excuse, you go to Stanford for God’s sake. You know everything in the world but you don’t know or don’t even care to educate yourself on racial issues. There comes a point where it’s not a lack of education its a lack of care. 

I was privileged, privileged with the education and knowledge I got from Stanford, for which, I will forever be grateful. I am now a pediatric doctor at The Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles. 

Helping children is something that I found a liking in when I was in medical school, and it feels so good helping others. Throughout my life, I’ve been judged, treated unequally, and plain disrespected. I did not let any of those incidents define me, which is why I am where I am now. Working 40+ hours a week, going to my own house in L.A. it felt so good, it felt so different than where I was raised, no more hearing gunshots every night, no more fears of getting robbed, I am now living a regular life. After payday, I took a trip with a few friends to Beverly Hills to go shopping with. My friends and I always get looks when we go shopping in expensive stores, like damn yall never seen Black people with money. As we’re walking through the store the employee constantly asks us do we need assistance. We kindly decline and tell her that we’re just looking, she leaves us alone, but constantly follows us around. My friend, who was already frustrated turns around and says “Ma’am we said we don’t need your help, stop following us around the store, ain’t nobody trying to steal nothing. We’re grown women, stop following us around like we are some little kids.” The worker gets mad, and she goes to tell the security that my friend is causing a problem and to kick us out.

My friends and I attempt to avoid the problem and leave out peacefully, as we are walking out the alarm goes off. We all stop, we all stopped in sync actually, we turn around because we know we did not steal anything. As we stop and turn around the security officer charges at my friend and tackles her to the ground, breaking her right arm. We scream and tell him to stop, shes about 5’8 174 pounds while the secruity looks like he could be 6’3 234 pounds. He’s on top of my friend as she’s screaming and gasping for air. He screams “BITCH YOU STEALING” putting all his weight on my friends body, she cant breath I think. “I CANT BREATH” she yells at the security. He doesn’t care, I see it in his eyes, he’s going to kill my friend, he’s going to kill a black woman over a crime she did not commit. He’s going to kill my sister. He killed my sister.  

Days later, we get contacted by the police asked about the incident, they were trying to convince us that our friend was stealing, but there was no evidence, however, I thought in my head, even if she did steal does that justify killing her?  She told the officer over, and over, that she could not breathe, yet the officer did not care, he stayed on top of her looking for some product she did not have. Weeks past and this was not on the news, why did no one care that this officer killed an innocent Black woman? Why did no one want to cover this story? Why is this security still working at this store? Why does America say fuck us? We had enough. We heard about the #SAYHERNAME movement which was a movement that calls attention to police violence against Black women and demanding that their stories be integrated into the calls for justice and media representation of police brutality. Our innocent friend was killed by an officer twice her size, over something that she did not even steal. This was a cry out for help. When we sit here and not cover stories like this, it is dehumanizing, they are essentially saying fuck my friend life, she did not matter that much anyway. 

How dare America spit in our face like that. Black women around the world are being killed, I’ve grown up being discriminated against, allowing people to constantly disrespect me, and no one calls out people for it. It is now time for a change, it is now the time to SAY HER NAME. 

[puttingfingerstokeys]

[untitled]

Nanowrimo day 22 Featuring Sandman, hints of Floyd “Stiletto” Morales, and Cayne McKinnley @jamesonandhotbrass‘s amazing OC Dystopian near-future ft. Vampires  Call of Duty but with Vampires Unfinished and unedited

“Listen, I know he seems soft, Sand’, but I swear to Christ, Gabe is the best fuckin’ doc I’ve ever seen, bar none,” Cayne McKinnley, a gunnery sergeant with the United States Marine Corps insisted with a vehemence the one called Sand’ (Sandman was his handle) had hardly thought possible in the heat and sun. He shaded his already sunglasses-covered eyes as they spoke in the lee of a tent. At high noon, no side made any difference and all the best shady spots were already taken. 

“Medic?”

“Corpsman,” corrected McKinnley. “Guy’s a—”

“SEAL? Him?” Sandman sounded incredulous. He knew better than to judge a book by its cover, but this was like finding the King James within the covers of a pulpy, dime-store novel. Gabriel Steele was, in a word, beautiful. 

“I know how it sounds,” McKinnley confirmed, an amused grin on his scarred face. “But I swear… the shit I’ve seen that guy do.” The marine leaned closer. “He is a fucking miracle worker… Mother Theresa he ain’t, but he does a damn good job. He… might be one of us, too.”

Sandman’s mouth twitched imperceptibly at the corners, but his body did not otherwise move, silver eyes scanning the desolate horizon behind his reflective shades. In fact, he gave almost no sign of having even heard the gunnery sergeant, but this did not distress McKinnley in the least, who knew how the older man operated. 

His kit and various other identifiers marked him as SFOD-D, which meant Sandman was more than accustomed to being the most elite badass on just about any FOB. Having a SEAL on-base evened the odds a little, even though Sandman himself was not a terribly competitive man. He was the sort of fellow who took charge of a situation with his presence alone. 

“He come with your boys?” 

“Yeah,” confirmed McKinnley. He didn’t seem to want to (or perhaps he simply wasn’t able to) comment more on the subject and Sandman did not press. So, the USN had chucked one of its elites, and one of them no less, into the desert sun with a group of Marines and a detachment of Delta troops. This was shaping up to be one strange conflict. 

Sandman did not wish to dignify what they were doing, hunting down a Russian terrorist in semi-hostile territory in the middle east, as a “war”, per se. It had not escalated to that point and Vladimir Makarov had not yet earned the right to be numbered amongst the true tyrants, the antichrists of the modern age, capable of starting a proper war. If war could ever be considered “proper”. 

“And he’s good?”

“Very good.”

Sandman nodded stoically and went back to watching the horizon. McKinnley wondered what was making the guy so tense. He knew some of them could feel danger coming, a sort of freaky sixth sense, but Sandman had never said anything about that. The man was fairly open about that kind of thing, with Cayne McKinnley at least, if not with anyone else. 

He thought he might just ask, but stopped himself as Sandman shifted and patted himself down, searching for a cigarette. It was the man’s one vice. Other than that, he was squeaky clean, not even a real drinker beyond a couple of cold beers on leave, so far as McKinnley knew. 

“Okay, I give,” McKinnley grunted, “what’s got your sigmoid fucking colon in a bowtie?”

Sandman grunted and shifted his attention from his search. As if on cue, his fingers found a stowed smoke somewhere in his many pockets and the other hand produced a lighter. It was like magic watching his hands work as his eyes were on McKinnley. “What’sat?”

“Something’s fucking you up, Sand’, I know the look,” said the marine patiently. He leaned back into the growing shade of the tent, misliking the feeling of that voracious sun upon his exposed skin. Sandman seemed statuesque, the way he was simple taking it. 

“Hammer’s inbound,” he said simply, eyeing the horizon with calculated disdain. No one but Cayne McKinnley could have read that upon his grizzled features, but to the marine gunnery sergeant, the guy’s expressions were plain as day. 

“You mean Cowboy and his douchesquad?”

“Easy, son,” Sandman warned, knowing prying ears were about. McKinnley bristled but knew Sandman was right, even if it stung to know that. He held his tongue from making further comment. Hammer was a fellow SFOD-D fireteam with a bone and half to pick with Metal, all because their glorious leader, Cowboy, had made a target of Metal’s commanding officer, Sandman for unknown reasons.

The reasons were not unknown to Sandman himself, or to Cowboy, or the rest of his squad. Those involved knew exactly what was going on and, as a result, McKinnley did, too. Outside that circle, it simply appeared to be a Delta rivalry that sometimes got a little heated. But hot did not begin to describe the raw animosity between the two fireteams. 

“They should know better than to do this shit,” McKinnley observed, knowing damn well Uncle Sam was going to do whatever the taxpayers were funding this time around, whatever the spin doctors could convince the American populace to give up for the sake of their beloved troops. It all made him a little sick, but he laid that aside a moment to focus on his friend.

“Shepherd knows what he’s doing,” responded Sandman, breaching military protocol, referring to a (far) superior, commissioned officer by his last name alone, not bothering with titles. Shepherd was a vain man and a court martial would be the least of Sandman’s worries if he had actually been heard saying this. Cayne McKinnley, who harbored similar misgivings regarding the two-star general, was not going to be the one reporting him, now or ever. 

“A little healthy competition then,” McKinnley guessed, his tone acrid. Sandman nodded. If both teams were on edge, it would not improve their performance, but they would strive harder to overachieve in the eyes of their superior officers, if allowed. Sandman, for his part, would not accept such behavior. Cowboy? That was unclear.

Sandman had always found Cowboy (who was ironically of the same rank) to be volatile, brash, self-centred, and egotistical, with a wicked temper and a demeanor that was, in his opinion, shameful to the entirety of the United States Armed Forces. How he had made it past PFC with his belligerent attitude, Sandman would never understand. If there was one thing he had learned over the years, however, it was that the least competent man in the pack was most likely to be put in charge. Whether this was just knee jerk oversight, or a genuine dedication to promoting incompetent mouthbreathers who were easily controlled by their dicks and egos (these things often going hand in hand), Sandman neither knew, nor cared. It sickened him. 

“Healthy,” Sandman repeated sourly. He did not continue his thought, having heard something in the distance which had caught his attention. It was the slap-slap-slap of rotor blades on sand-riddled air. The troop transport bearing Hammer and hopefully some useful equipment was inbound from their main base in Qatar. 

“Let’s go get some chow,” McKinnley suggested, by way of diverting Sandman’s attention to something other than his impending row with Cowboy. Sandman was not the kind of fellow who invited ire and violence. He gave orders calmly and with unbalked authority. Anyone who fought it was either foolish, an asshole, or both. Cowboy was the latter. 

Sandman did not outrank him, however, so he would not likely be put in charge of the man. There was a younger fellow, about Cayne’s age, from an English outfit, who would be their field commander, if scuttlebutt was to be believed. That, at the very least, had a damn good chance of setting Cowboy off. This was McKinnley’s only consolation, knowing a dude who’s handle was Soap would be calling the shots over blustering, Texan, BMOC Cowboy. 

“No,” Sandman grunted. McKinnley did not like the tone.

“How long have you been out in this heat?” He was concerned, truly, for the man’s wellbeing, but also aiming to, once more, get him the fuck away from that transport which drew nearer with every passing second. 

“Am I still standing, son?” 

“Yessir.” McKinnley knew that tone and understood that whatever battle he had intended to fight had been lost long before it ever started. 

“Then I am good to go, understood?” 

“Solid copy.” McKinnley made the decision, then and there, to back Sandman’s play, whatever it was. If it got him court martialed, so much the better. He would have paid good money to get away from Cowboy and his stooges. Those guys carried themselves with about as much class as an upstart garage rock band, playing at a local bar for tips and acting like it was Radio City Music Hall. 

They stood then, side-by-side, watching as the distant troop transport neared their FOB. It was traveling rapidly, but distance had a way of distorting itself in the desert. Sandman did not seem to mind, however. He stood passively, arms crossed, watching it, studying every angle of the bird. Despite the supplies it likely carried, McKinnley thought that if Sandman was capable, he would have shot lasers through it and downed the thing before it arrived. It was a rash thought, but the marine had to grin at the idea. 

Out of a nearby tent, General Shepherd expelled himself, alongside a surly-looking, mustachio’d man of an equivalent age wearing a boonie hat that had been his trademark since he and his crew had arrived at the FOB. The two men moved swiftly across the grounds toward the landing site, passing troops jogging, playing ball, doing push-ups, and generally preparing or remaining in the ready position for whatever deployment was next. 

“That’s Captain Price, i’nnit?” McKinnley’s grunt was barely audible, but Sandman caught it fine. He nodded in response, but did not take his eyes off the approaching bird. This worried McKinnley. He did not know Sandman’s connection to Price, but understood they went back as far as Mogadishu. If Sandman was paying no mind to Price… things were bad. 

“You’ve gotta get outta the sun,” advised McKinnley, knowing he had been brushed off once and assuming he would get the same again. This time, however, Sandman did not even respond. He kept his gaze fixed upon the bird, eyes narrow, jaw tight, lips drawn into a line so thin, it could have been a scar. 

There was no more talk as the helicopter put down. Its landing gear hit solid hardpan and the rotors spun down. Maybe the bird itself was part of their gear. McKinnley appreciated the presence of a potential gunship in the area and he saw platforms on either side of its open fuselage made for mounting a fifty cal. This pleased him greatly, but not enough to distract. 

What came out of the ship was half a dozen men, five of them clearly Delta and one from another outfit, possibly accompanying the goods. Sandman’s already-tight jaw tightened even more than McKinnley thought possible, but he did not move. He watched. No matter how irritated he was, Sandman would never make the first move. Cowboy would start the dance. Sandman would finish it.

McKinnley, in his way, desperately wanted to see how he finished it. If it came to blows, he needed to be there for it, to witness it firsthand. His only regret was that he did not have a recording device on him, because this would absolutely go in his victory spank-bank later… assuming it went down how his wildest fantasies promised. 

Rarely, however, did fantasy play itself out properly in reality. The mundane world had a way of bitchslapping the hopeful, repeatedly and without mercy. McKinnley was one of those who knew better than to hope, but hoped anyway, which somehow made reality worse.

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: This chapter was inspired by events in BTVS 7.10 “Bring On the Night.” Links to character sheets at the bottom of the story.

Warnings: Some torture, gore, death

Chapter 28: Question & Answer

Dean rubbed his eyes, but the discharge papers in front of him were still blurry. His head featured its own drummer on hour twelve of a solo. When had he slept last? Sunday? No, Saturday. Even then, Buffy kept waking up with nightmares every few hours.

“There a cafeteria here?” he asked the nurse.

She paused and glared at him with bleary eyes; she was probably on fumes, too. “What do you need the cafeteria for? She’s leaving,” she said, pointing at Willow sitting blindfolded and stiff with worry in a wheelchair.

Dean grinned at her bad bedside manner. “Point me in the right direction, and I’ll bring you some coffee.”

His charm won out against her exhaustion as she tilted her head to the side with a smirk. “Down the hall. Take the elevator to B. Left at the second hallway.”

Willow had to hold his coffee as he pushed her through the parking lot to the waiting, crowded Impala. He’d gotten up before dawn to fetch two more Potentials from the bus station before picking up Willow, who didn’t seem too happy with his presence.

“Everyone is busy?” she asked again.

“Gotta work to pay for the sudden houseful. I know we’re not BFFs, but I’m what you got, Red. Everybody wanted to be here, trust me.”

“That’s not what I -- sorry...What about Giles?” she asked, as Dean, protecting her head with his hand, guided her into his car.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about him.”

“Really?”

“No! He’s out all day picking up girls. In the come-with-me-if-you-want-to-live way, not the back-to-my-place-for-a-drink way. You know, you’re not the first injured person I’ve handled. Don’t need to be so uptight.”

She was responding as he closed the door. Grabbing his coffee from the roof, he leaned against his car and took a giant gulp. With another gulp warming him, he slid into the driver’s seat, the girls already chatting.

“So you are blind?” asked Lys, green-haired and with a heavy French accent. “Zat does not exactly make me feel safe.”

“Not blind. Just a flash burn,” Willow explained.

“That means she will be able to see in a few days. They are bandages, not eyepatches,” said Grace, a round-faced girl from somewhere in Africa.

“‘ow do you know?” asked Lys.

“We just covered eye injuries in one of my medical classes. Least favorite class so far.”

“Gonna be a doctor or nurse?” Willow asked.

“Doctor,” Grace replied, “if vampires stop interrupting me.”

“I ‘ave been training a few months,” said Lys. “‘aven’t seen a vampire yet. Pretty excited about zat.”

“I bet you are, Ghost World,” Dean muttered. He tossed a bag into the back seat. “Welcome to America. Gotcha some donuts.”

Willow had initially been disappointed to discover Dean, and only Dean, had come to pick her up. It made her feel forgotten, though that wasn’t a fair feeling. Her friends, including an unexpected Giles, had spent most of the previous day visiting her. But to her surprise, Dean’s presence began to grow on her. Instead of blaring his rock music, he told her cheesy jokes on the drive home, asking her opinion on which Xander would like most.

Grace and Lys, who hailed from Nairobi and Quebec respectively, contributed their own groaners. By the time they arrived home, their voices were comforting.

Willow had barely been in her room five minutes before a whiny English voice exclaimed, “Why do I have to watch her? I’m not a nurse.”

“Because you have to pitch in, Cardigan. This ain’t a hotel. Holler if you need something.”

“Hello,” Willow said, waving toward where she assumed the girl was standing. She kicked off her sneakers and stretched out in her bed, the familiar softness like a hug from a friend. “Sorry about this. You don’t have to stay in here. I just need someone within earshot. Just hand me my discman, and I should be good for a while.”

“I’m Annabelle,” said the girl, who sounded like she was sitting in the corner chair. “Mr. Giles picked me up in London a few days ago. Where are you from?”

“Oh, I’m not a Potential. I live here. I’m Willow.”

The girl’s breath caught. “You’re the witch.” Her words carried a tone of insult, of labeling for some later, darker purpose.

“I’m a witch. I don’t think I’m fancy enough for the The.”

“Do you think you’re funny?” Her voice was short, cold.

“I was trying to be because tense. You’re all huffy, and it’s sort of all I can hear.”

“I don’t care if all you can hear is blood curdling screams. Wait, you’ve heard those, or did you kill that boy too quickly for him to respond?”

Willow’s blood ran cold. Of course, word had gotten around the Watcher community. How many of the girls knew? What had they been told? “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I’ve been training to be the Slayer since I was nine-years-old. Disappointed cannot even begin to describe how the Council felt when they found out that not only had the pet witch of their rebel Slayer killed a man, but that Buffy let her live. Why on Earth should Buffy do the job she’s been slated by fate to do and actually protect people?”

“It wasn’t like that!”

She heard the girl rise to her feet, her voice getting closer as she approached the bed. “That’s your defense? I visited the Council often. I’ve read their records on this Slayer, on you. You do what you want, consequences be damned. Now we have an ancient evil after us, and I’m fairly certain you lot did something to provoke it.”

There were footsteps in the hall. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Dean barked. Quick footsteps on the carpet. Shuffling. Annabelle squealed. “Get your ass down stairs!” He yelled.

Willow panted and clutched her bedspread. “Dean? What’s going on?”

He stook a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Want some water, Willow? Music?” He was doing his best to mask the anger in his voice.

“Uh, both sound good.”

There was rustling at her desk where her discman was sitting. “Vertical Horizon? Really? Here’s your crappy music. I’ll be back in a minute with some water.”

She could hear him tapping his fingers on the doorway. Thinking? Staring? “Willow, keep your bedroom door locked.”

Buffy stood up at her desk, feeling her muscles and their tension knots roll and stretch. For not even being noon, she felt like she’d been up for a week. The morning had been a typhoon of strangers clamoring for a hot shower and breakfast. There hadn’t been enough time to swing by Dean’s for a shower. Thankfully, Xander had given her a ride to work, stopping for bagels and coffee, both of which she wolfed down in the car.

Once at work, she talked with three students with holiday problems -- one of which was worried he wouldn’t be getting the car he “deserved” -- stole some blank forms for Dean to forge transfer records with, and helped the secretary redecorate the Christmas tree some students had covered in pornography. And every movement had been spent under the curious eye of Principal Wood.

It was only a few minutes before lunch, so Buffy decided to skip studying for her final and meet Sam early. She opened the library door to see a line of students with armloads of books swamping the checkout counter.

“Wow, it’s like you’re giving ‘em away.”

“Kind of the idea,” he said as he stamped return cards. “Research is on my desk.”

“I was looking forward to more research,” Buffy muttered as she slipped into Sam’s office.

Other than the piles of books, the room had little decoration -- a large map of California, a school calendar featuring pictures of the building at its least bloody angles, and a withering plant. The small window looked out on a charming copse of dead palm trees.

Moving Sam’s cold coffee out of the way, Buffy sat down with her pasta salad and mild enthusiasm. They had looked at all of their paltry references and come up empty. Nothing on the First. No clues on how to find and fix Spike. No tips on how to organize a gaggle of teenagers so everyone could get a hot shower.

An unfamiliar blue book caught her eye. It was small, only slightly overflowing her hand, and old, the gold embossed Greek lettering faded. She opened to a page marked with folded notebook paper, on it Sam’s writing:

VESSELS 1. vampires, 2. witches, 3. slayer

The bell rang, and Sam ducked in, the desire to be home clear on his face. “Don’t let the kids get you down, Sam. There’s plenty to be down about otherwise.”

He plopped down in a nearby chair and practically inhaled his sandwich. “You think Willow’s home yet?” he asked after a minute.

“Yeah, Dean said he’d get her right after he picked up the Potentials at the bus station.”

“Shit. How many people are going to be at your house tonight?”

“Let’s think about something more manageable, like research,” she said holding up the blue book.

“That’s something else,” Sam said, snatching the book from her hand, an anxious look on his face.

“Well, what is it? It said something about Slayers and vessels?”

“I’m just doing extra research for me on the whole Slayer story, you know, with the Potentials here and all.”

Before she could probe deeper, a familiar voice purred from behind her.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Principal Wood leaned in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, looking quite coolly handsome, as if he wasn’t a complete creep. Buffy wondered if he was hiding a weapon or simply more blood on his hands.

“You are certainly good at finding me,” Buffy mumbled.

Sam rose to his full height, his back straight, shoulders back, stance firm. Only by slipping his hands in his pockets did he manage to look like he wasn’t aching for a fight.

“Did you need something? I’ve already turned in next quarter’s purchasing request.” He said it smoothly, but anyone with ears could hear an ass-beating in his tone.

“I’m actually here to see Miss Summers.” Principal Wood met Sam’s gaze. He was tall, nearly as tall as Sam, and even through the layers of his suit, it was evident he worked out. A fight wouldn’t be quick or clean.

“Let’s talk out here,” Buffy said, leading Wood away from the standoff to the history section. “Is this about Dawn? Did she fall down again?”

“No, I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re feeling better, and I missed you at the dance Saturday.” Having found his secret file, his smile made her skin crawl. What was the want flickering in his eyes?

“I’m sure those kids could cha cha slide without me.”

“If only their dancing was that advanced. Anyway, since I couldn’t talk you into spending Saturday with me supervising the punch bowl, I thought maybe a nice quiet dinner would be more your speed.” He gave her a smile like he’d been rehearsing this conversation the entire weekend. “Buffy, do you like Italian? ”

“Oh.” Relief surged through her followed by annoyance. Wood was a simple, obsessed stalker, the perfect upright citizen to be helming Sunnydale High. Having been stalked by Spike, she knew this could get ugly in a hurry.

“That was kind of the opposite of the response I was looking for. Is this because you’re not dating Mr. Winchester?”

“I wasn’t lying to you. I’m dating Dean Winchester, Sam’s brother.” She hoped that would prevent him from lashing out at Sam at least.

Wood’s dark eyes widened, his face awash with embarrassment. He took a couple steps back, bumping into a bookcase and knocking a few volumes to the floor. “Oh, my apologies! I’m going to go hide in my office now, and let’s maybe pretend we never had this conversation?”

With the assistance of the Winchesters, Buffy took the jet-lagged Potentials out for their first Slayer training session that evening, both to give them some experience and get her mind focused on problems she could solve. Trouble was with the distraction of two hot guys, the language barrier, and Annabelle’s constant questions, no one was focused on anything she was saying.

The grave she was hoping would hold their first vampire, a former elderly man, was already empty. “And sometimes they rise before you can get there.”

Immediately a high-pitched British voice asked, “You just find suspicious deaths in the paper and wait for the vampires to rise? You don’t patrol? Save people?”

“Hey, calm down, Cardigan,” Dean snapped.

Buffy crossed her arms and glared. “Of course, I patrol. Of course, I save people. Do you want to go find a nest, Annabelle? I could throw you in and see how you fare.”

The girl turned red and puffed out her cheeks.

“I do not think she meant it as a challenge, Buffy,” said Keisha, a sixteen-year-old with a thoughtful face, who had arrived from Atlanta that afternoon. The dossier Giles had prepared on her recommended Buffy give her special attention, but so far she found Keisha difficult to read.

“We wanna see action,” added Dani, twirling a stake between her fingers. Buffy got the sense Dani, in training since her early teens, couldn’t wait to be the next Slayer. She knew the moves but possessed little in the way of leadership skills.

“Fine. You want action. I’ll show you action.”

She couldn’t show them action. Only two of the ten girls had more than a year of combat training. Three of them had not been exposed to the supernatural world at all. When she’d told the girls they were going out tonight to kill a vampire, Cloé had started silently crying into her teddy bear.

It was a few minutes and a lot of pounding before Clem, in full rhinestone cowboy gear, opened the door to his crypt and greeted the Slayer with a warm hug. “Hey there, Buffy! Who are your friends?”

Naomi -- freckle-faced and sweet from a nowhere town -- gave an uncertain but polite wave. Cloé clung to Sam’s arm while he translated for Leticia, barely awake enough after her long flight from the Philippines to register the demon in front of her. Most of them stood still and slack-jawed.

“Clem, these are potential Slayers. Girls, this is Clem.”

“Are you telling me,” griped Annabelle, “that you are actually on friendly terms with a demon?”

“Shut up!” Lys hissed.

“Well, I happen to think of myself as a friendly guy,” replied Clem, extending his hand. Annabelle turned up her nose at him and dipped back to the edge of the crowd. “Okay then. Buffy, it’s nice to see you, but I’m sorry I can’t really entertain right now. I’m getting ready to meet some buddies for line-dancing.”

“It will only take a minute, I promise. This is their first night out, and they want ‘action.’”

The demon smiled, exposing his fangs. “Newbies!”

“Lesson one, ladies: Not all creatures of the night are out to get you.”

“‘Ow can you tell?” asked Molly, leaning in.

“You can’t. Being a Slayer isn’t just about weapons training and quick reflexes. It’s also about instinct and good decision making. That’s part of why you need to do research. If you go all half-cocked killing everything in sight, you’ll have no allies, no intel, and no advantage when it comes to tackling the Big Bads. Now let’s move on to lesson two. Clem, you mind showing them that thing you can do?”

“If it helps!” Clem took off his white cowboy hat, and the flaps around his face peeled back, hissing tentacles shooting forth from his glistening red insides. The girls screamed, and to Buffy’s amusement, even the Winchesters jumped back in disgust.

“Thanks, Clem. Enjoy your dancing.”

The monster closed his face, replaced his hat, and gave her two thumbs up. “Anytime, Buffy. Hey, you wanna get some coffee and catch up?”

“Sounds great.”

“What was the point of that?” snapped Dani once Clem had returned to his crypt.

A couple girls snickered behind their hands, delighted to see Dani ruffled.

“The point is that not everything that’s unfamiliar should be killed, and not everything that’s seemingly benign should be ignored. We have an empty grave on our hands. What does that mean?”

The girls looked at each other for answers.Grace raised her hand. “An empty grave would mean that there is a vampire on the loose.”

“Grace gets an A for the night. Even though this vampire will look like an old man, that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you. We need to be on the --”

Screaming cut her off. Dean bolted toward it while she worked her way around the confused knot of girls. An elderly vampire was biting the neck of a girl in a cardigan.

“We have a crisis!” cried Andrew, waving around an empty paper plate. “Even though I said I don’t like pepperoni, we ordered a cheese, a supreme, and a pepperoni. Now all the cheese is gone, and I’m still hungry.”

The Scoobies gathered around the dining room table kept their noses buried in the old books and letters scattered about. “I’m crying you a river over your woes. Now sit down and help,” said Xander.

“Why don’t we just lock him up again?” Anya asked, taking a bite of cheese pizza.

“Because I always get stuck with bathroom duty,” Xander explained. “It’s not like he has anywhere to run.”

Giles dropped another half dozen books on the table. Andrew and Dawn each took new volumes from the pile.

Anya scowled. “I would have thought that the upside of no Watcher’s Council meant fewer books. Fewer books, less research. Less research, fewer nightmares about taking a pop quiz in my underwear.”

“Yes, the ideal situation is having no idea what’s going on,” said Giles, opening his notes.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Anya lamented.

“I like research,” said Dawn, not looking up from her book.

“More than homework apparently,” said Xander. “Rumor is you have a final to study for.”

The girl shrugged.

Anya continued. “I would have thought with all the Potentials in the house, we could have passed some of the boring off on them.”

Giles sighed. “They can learn research skills anywhere. They are here to be under Buffy’s tutelage, to gain more of a sense of what awaits them.”

“Finish your sentence.” Dawn spoke through gritted teeth. Her face was stone, but already tears were forming. “‘What awaits them’ when Buffy dies. Isn’t that the whole story?”

“Dawn--”

“Have you listened to them? All they can talk about is how excited they are to be superheroes. They criticize her non-stop. They can’t wait for her to --” Her voice caught in her throat, and she bit her lips, holding in the dark word. She pushed away from the table. “I need a break. I’ll be studying in Willow’s room if anyone needs me. Not that anyone ever needs me,” she grumbled as she trudged up the stairs.

“She still mad about being left behind?” Anya asked.

“It’s the story of Dawn.”

“I wanted to go, too,” Andrew added. “Watch Buffy do her thing, blonde hair flowing, watching Sam and Dean as they--”

“Difficult as it may be for Dawn to accept, Buffy has a role to play, training to do,” said Giles. “No doubt we all want Buffy to be the Slayer forever, but we cannot confuse our desires with reality.”

Everyone tried to ignore his words dangling ugly and close, but no amount of page-turning or note-scratching could change the fact that one of the Potentials was going to be the next Slayer. It wasn’t going to happen today, but it was going to happen.

“Hey guys, I think I found something,” said Andrew. He passed a fat brown book to Giles and pointed at an illuminated page. At the bottom of the page were twisted, blinded men in robes. “Do they look Bringery to anyone else?”

“It’s a poem. Sumerian.” Giles traced the words with his fingers, his lips moving as he translated in his head. “Roughly, it says since the Bringers sold themselves to evil, nothing can grow under their feet.” He pointed to the bright flowered border, which turned brown above and below them.

“So they’re bad gardeners?” Andrew asked.

“Poor horticulture is one of the lesser known signs of the end times,” said Xander.

Anya rolled her eyes. “How is this helpful? Do we just knock on every door in town and ask people about their water and fertilizer routines?”

Before anyone could answer, Dawn came running down the stairs with her cell phone in hand. “Buffy called. One of the girls got bit!”

As soon as they arrived back at the house, all of the adults, plus Grace, rushed upstairs with Annabelle. The rest of the Potentials joined Dawn waiting in the living room for the chaos to die down.

Soon, Cloé’s silent tears turned into racking sobs. Naomi squeezed onto the couch beside her and gave her a big hug. Settling the crying girl’s face against her chest, Naomi began to hum “Amazing Grace.”

As Cloé’s sobs subsided, Dani chimed in. “For all Annabelle’s talk about training, she didn’t do a hell of a lot to fight that vamp off, did she?”

A pillow hit Dani in the face. “Wha--”

“Shut. Up,” said Keisha, calmly, with a finger raised in warning. “No one wants to hear about how great you are. That’s not helping Annabelle or Buffy. And you’re certainly not helping us.”

Three more pillows flew at Dani, eliciting a small grin from Cloé.

“You know, it’s okay to be scared,” Dawn announced to the room.

“I woz not scared,” said Lys. “It is ‘ard to be frightened by anyone wearing fringe.”

“I almost peed when that demon did that thing with his face!” Naomi exclaimed before turning beet red. “I didn’t though.”

“‘E seemed nice enough,” Molly added. “Clem was it?”

A big smile burst across Dawn’s face. “Oh, you guys met Clem?! He’s super nice. He watches me sometimes.”

“Watches?” asked Wook, a laconic girl from South Korea.

With that, Dawn’s smile disappeared. “Tonight was scary -- and totally get the tears out -- but I know you’ll all be safe here. I know, because I’ve been the Slayer’s sister since she was called. And what better way to jerk the Slayer around than to grab her not-at-all-special little sister?”

They all leaned in, hanging on her every word. As much as some of them annoyed Dawn by treating this like an adventure, she recognized the terror in their eyes.

“Look, Buffy can be bossy and sometimes she doesn’t listen. She’s self-righteous and in charge, but that’s because she has to be. If she wasn’t, I’d be dead. So I know listening to her is less fun than Algebra, but learn everything you can for the sake of your sisters and brothers, for your parents. It’s not just the world you’ll be saving.”

Some of the girls had gone pale as they comprehended this new threat, and Dawn worried that she’d said too much. “Do you guys like chocolate? I keep a stash hidden from Buffy if you’re interested.”

With that invitation, the girls followed Dawn to her room.

After bandaging up Annabelle, Buffy and Giles retreated to the bench in the corner of her backyard to discuss her disaster of a training session. She breathed in her chamomile tea as she watched the girls mill about her lit house, reminding herself over and over again that they were terrified. But they were still annoying.

“Giles, they wouldn’t listen to me at all! Molly couldn’t stop giggling over two very taken adult men. Cloé is a trembling fear-ball. Dani and Lys kept wandering off on their own. Annabelle would not stop second-guessing everything I had to say, and her bruised ego is the whole reason she was bitten in the first place! You are so lucky you just had me to deal with.”

He covered his face with his mug, muttering, “Quite.”

“You should have seen them when Dean staked the vamp that grabbed Miss Mouthy, which I totally would have done if I’d been on that side of the herd. You’d think I’d hadn’t just been telling them all of this stuff for an hour. You’d think I didn’t have years of slaying under my belt. You’d think they were here for Dean and Sam to protect them, not me.”

“All of them reacted that way?”

Buffy pursed her lips recalling the incident. Maybe it had only been a few voices, but it was enough to bother her. “Felt like all of them.”

“The Watchers’ diaries often spoke of the difficulty of training a new Slayer. Several of the young women chosen through the years were simply unable to grasp the idea that they had authority, that they did not need someone, a man in particular, to save them.”

She pictured girls in petticoats and corsets fainting and dying on their first night as Slayers.

“Why did you take the Winchesters with you?” Giles asked.

The answer pressed out a sigh. “You haven’t seen them fight, but they’re really good. They just sort of go into automatic, like how you can’t forget how to ride a bike. I don’t know if they could win against a vampire like Spike, but the Bringers wouldn’t have a prayer. If they pray, that is. I just kinda assumed with the whole monk vibe.”

“You were concerned they might have shown up tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? They already broke into my house and kidnapped Spike for God knows what reason. Their whole mission is to kill the Potentials, and I happen to be hosting a victim party in the graveyard. You see how I’m sitting? So duck-like.”

Giles looked at her with soft eyes and a small smile. “Even if this were merely a training camp, the next few weeks wouldn’t be easy. The Council filled the head of every Watcher with stories about duty and discipline, but when I met you, none of their methods worked.”

“I don’t think the Council ever met a teenage girl,” Buffy said pulling her coat tighter around her.

“Not an unfair assessment; however, you are far from average, my dear. I have had the distinct pleasure of watching you grow up from a unique girl into the strong woman before me. If anyone can train this lot and keep them alive, it’s Buffy Summers.”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. Even when she did everything wrong, he still believed in her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s good, seeing as I’m picking up at least half a dozen more girls this weekend.”

It looks like a mask from one of the better costume shops. Spike tried to focus on anything other than the feeling of his intestines being removed. The closest thing was the creature the visage of Buffy kept calling a vampire. Between its grey skin, jagged fangs, reptilian eyes, and bald pate, it struck Spike as a caricature of a vampire, the sort of creature spoken about by supposed good people who don’t want to imagine the passion and lust tied in to actually being a vampire.

The image of Buffy crouched by his face, her eyes half open, her lips full and soft. She waved a finger over his face and touched his nose, only her non-corporeal finger slipped through, a low tingle like a mild shock. “I had such high hopes for you, Spike. You were the one, my right hand giddy on the pain of humans.”

“Wrong number, love.”

“The demon in you wants to help me. I can see it practically worshiping me. It’s that dirty little soul mucking things up.”

“Sod off.” He gritted his teeth. It felt like the grey-skinned monster was poking pins in his bowels.

“This is fun, though,” said Buffy’s image, stepping back to better survey what her pet monster was doing. “A human would have died by now, but you, you just keep growing back. We could do this forever. Unless you don’t feel like playing anymore, then all you have to do is say ‘Winchester.’”

As his fingers dug into her, she bit her tongue and pressed her face into the pillow. “Your shoulders are like rocks,” Dean said as he massaged Buffy’s back.

“After tonight’s disaster, do you expect me to be goo girl?”

“That sounds like the world’s lamest superhero. Goo Girl! She makes villains feel sticky!” he said in a terrible old timey radio host voice. “Supergirly could kick Goo Girl’s ass.” He skimmed his warm, soft lips over her neck, slipped his hands under her pajamas to tease her skin.

She rolled over as he tugged at her shirt, his half-closed eyes and freckled cheeks inches away. She wanted to kiss him, slip her tongue into his mouth while he slipped into her, but she didn’t deserve it. “Sorry, babe. I’m not in the mood.”

Pulling her shirt back down, he curled his body around hers and asked, “Still upset about Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass?”

“She’s just one part of the Buffy Failure Show.” Giles had given her hope for tomorrow’s training session, smaller groups for graveyard patrol while Sam and Dean covered weapons training in the backyard. Still, she had a long way to climb after Annabelle’s attack.

“It wasn’t that bad. It’s not like anyone died.”

“That’s your yardstick of success?” Images of Dean as a child watching his baby brother popped to her mind -- candy for dinner, porn on the TV, and no one died.

“A hell of a lotta hunters die their first time out. So a girl got bit; so what? At least now they all know to take this seriously. Couple of ‘em ‘bout talked my ear off today about how awesome they thought being the Slayer would be.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That the Slayer’s awesome because she’s Buffy Summers.”

The idea that anyone would envy her position made a laugh bubble in her throat. She could hear a group of girls in the bathroom talking and fighting for mirror space. They can have my life. Dean turned off the bedside light and laced his fingers with hers in the dark. Some of it.

She slid into his arms, her head on his chest, her private cocoon from which she’d be reborn come morning. Bloodied know-it-alls, boy-crazy dreamers, sniveling children, all of those things faded from her memory. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“I don’t know. Must’ve been pretty shitty.”

They laid in the dark, listening to the buzz of the house as they pretended sleep would arrive. One by one, the girls settled in downstairs. Eventually, Giles’ muffled snoring leaked into the hall. For a moment, an hour, all Buffy could hear was the beating of Dean’s heart. Then a wave of voices rose from the living room, and feet pounded up the stairs. Her bedroom door burst open, and Molly gasped, “Annabelle’s missing!”

By the time Buffy and Dean finished checking the upstairs, rousing the rest of the house, and joined everyone in the living room, the girls were having a full meltdown.

“Shut up!” Dean bellowed, silencing the cacophony.

“Who saw her last?” asked Buffy, scanning the crowd. Immediately, four girls started talking over each other.

“Who noticed she was gone?” Dean asked, his voice easily overpowering all of them.

“I did,” said Grace. “I thought I should stay near her since she was hurt. She didn’t want to talk to anyone and laid down to sleep first. I woke up maybe twenty minutes ago and noticed she was missing.”

“She wasn’t in the basement with me,” Andrew added.

“I-I saw her leave,” squeaked Naomi. “I couldn’t sleep. She put a bunch of stuff in her bag. I thought she was going to the bathroom.”

Buffy ran her hands through her messy hair. “Alright, girls, Willow, Dawn, stay here in case she comes back. Giles, Dean, and I will go look for her.”

Bus station, hospital, taxi companies. Dean slipped on jeans and a henley as he ran through a list of places a scared, homesick twenty-something may go for comfort. Yes, the girl was embarrassed and upset, but she knew better than most what was out there.

Downstairs, he, Buffy and Giles were rushing through plans of where to look when Naomi shouted, “Found her!” She was looking out the front door where she’d just flipped on the porch light.

“Hang on!” Dean snapped, but Naomi walked out on the porch anyway.

“Annabelle, you had us all --” She stopped, her face twisted in horror, and released a blood-curdling scream.

Buffy rushed outside to pull the shocked girl in. Annabelle sat perfectly still, leaning against a column on the porch, pea coat on and knapsack by her side. Dean grabbed his gun and crept outside, worried she was the bait for a trap, but the night was as still as she was. The girl was a faint shade of blue, her eyes clouded over. Blood dripped down her sweater from the shredded area where her throat had been. It looked to Dean exactly like the vampire bites from home. Painted in blood on the front door was the word BROTHERS.

Read Giles’ dossiers on: Annabelle      Dani       Cloé      Molly     Lys     Grace    Wook    Keisha    Leticia     Naomi

next chapter

[coffeeandambientnoise]

CONFESSIONS OF A VET RECEPTIONIST

In my more than five years of receptionist-ing at a nearby private veterinary practice, I’ve seen some things, and also learned some things. One of the things I’ve learned is that even today, very few pet owners are sufficiently educated to meet the demands of pet ownership. Not so long ago, the idea of consulting a veterinarian about your pet’s nutrition and discussing wellness plans may have seemed utterly bizarre, a superfluous luxury bestowed upon the fat and happy upper-middle classes with extra money to throw around. My father used to joke that back in his younger days, “they’d just take the dog out  back and shoot it.” As primitive as this may sound today, people just didn’t think there was any reason to extend their pets’ lives. Nothing lasts forever, and nature must run its course.

Regardless, pets today are akin to family members and thus treated as such. Empty-nesters desire company in their quiet homes, or childless couples cherish the prospect of raising a couple of fur babies instead of the squalling, hairless creatures that spew forth every conceivable bodily fluid (sometimes simultaneously) and spend nine months parasitizing your body. Personally, I’ve always liked animals more than people, and have a particular affinity for dogs. Their adoring gazes and unconditional love make them superior to any other living being on this planet (in my personal opinion).

In 2015, Americans spent more than $15 billion on vet care for their pets. At the clinic where I work, it is a rare day when we haven’t booked all of our appointment slots. While many pet owners try to keep their expenses to a minimum, there are just as many who come in regularly for visits to address their pets’ ongoing health issues. And while these people show an admirable degree of concern and responsibility for their pets’ well-being, very few seem to understand how flea, tick and heartworm preventives actually work. Even fewer understand the flea’s life-cycle, or how heartworm is transmitted (psst!…mosquitoes). I’ve encountered many clients who do not know the names of the medications they need refilled, let alone how the medications actually work.

A certain level of ignorance is expected, at least for first-time pet owners. Of course, learning never stops, and thanks to the constant influx of new pet care products into the market, it’s hard to keep up with the best and the latest, especially if your wallet is on the lighter side. And to be fair, life gets in the way–that’s just how it is. Sometimes we forget to take care of ourselves, so it’s understandable if Bubba’s yearly vaccines aren’t first and foremost on your list of things to do.

That being said, always be ready to learn. Education is key, and there’s no one better qualified to educate than your veterinarian. Don’t be afraid to ask questions! Ask if you’re feeding your pet the correct amount every day. Ask what their ideal weight should be. Definitely ask about preventive care. Unless you want to shell out over $1,000 to treat your pet’s heartworm disease, get them on preventive medication as early as possible.

Pets are a HUGE responsibility. To properly care for them, you need to do more than just feed them and provide them with a place to sleep. They depend on your for everything, and you need to be willing to make sacrifices to look out for their best interests. It’s not much different from having a small child, except children are a little more unpleasant. At the very least, commit to taking your pet to see their veterinarian once a year for their check-up and core vaccines (for rabies and distemper) for maintenance. Underlying health issues can sometimes be detected during these visits, so be sure to make your appointments as far in advance as you can, and keep your calendar where you can see it. If you absolutely have to reschedule your appointment, do so as soon as possible.

-

One of the “fun” things about being a front desk receptionist is that you’re essentially the “face” of the operation. You’re the first person a client sees when they walk in, and you’re the last thing they see when they’re walking out. Like it or not, you need to smile. Say hello when they arrive, and wish them well when they depart. You could say that it’s a performance, but thankfully, most clients make being nice easy.

But it’s more than just being nice. It’s your job to help the owner do what they can to help their pet. Empathy and compassion are two key traits for working at a veterinary practice, because in order to provide the best service to your clientele, you need to understand their feelings and frustrations, and work with them to solve their problems. That means providing education and support. Regardless of how you might feel about a certain client, the only thing that’s your business is their pet’s welfare. This takes priority over everything else.

Still, there are plenty of days when I just want to vault over the desk and scream like a banshee. People are extremely demanding nowadays, and that tries my patience. I try to tell myself I’m being tested to judge my eligibility for future sainthood, and plaster on a smile. When in doubt, focus on the pet. Tell them how handsome they’re looking today. Owners LOVE it when you gush over their pet. If nothing else, it eases tension and gives you and the owner common ground on which to stand.

One of my favorite things is when a client calls and asks if they can bring their dog in for a nail trim. Usually they’ll want to come in that very day, and usually our book is filled to capacity. When I suggest another day, they scoff and say, “It’ll only take a second. Can’t you just squeeze them in?”Okay, so here’s the thing–a nail trim sounds like such an easy thing, and it often is. However, more times than not, an owner will bring their pet in for their tri-weekly pedicure and ask if, by any chance, the doctor can also do Luffy’s vaccines, and check his anal glands, and “oh, he has this lump on his side that I noticed two weeks ago…” And if it isn’t a hastily thrown-together laundry list of things the owner conveniently remembered while walking in the door, maybe the pet is skittish and loses control of their bowels the moment the vet touches their feet, or they get aggressive and need to be muzzled, or they squirm a lot…you get my point.

Never, ever assume that a routine nail trim will take “a few seconds.” We schedule by appointment exclusively for a reason. Please don’t give us a hard time on this.

-

Our veterinary practice is private, and still rather small. Our building is small, and our staff is relatively small. Our prices are competitive (and quite reasonable, or so we’ve heard), but I still get the occasional client who can’t help snorting loudly in disbelief and staring me down when I tell them the cost of their pet’s examination and yearly vaccines will be $120, please.

Look, I get it. Trust me. I know. I don’t make a lot of money, and the economy has not been kind to us. You’re struggling financially, or maybe you had to set aside a huge payment for car repairs. Shit happens. I completely empathize.

But consider this: we are a business. My fellow staff members and I need to eat. We simply cannot hand out services for free, even if we’d like to. Our doctors need to get paid, and in order to continue serving our community, we need money. Simple. We pride ourselves on accommodating clients where we can, allowing them to make weekly payments or use their Care Credit card. We give out free samples of Heartgard and Nexgard, and omit the office visit fee if a client is bringing in their pet for a follow-up exam.

We do our best to help our clients and give them the best experience. We are not out to pick your pockets or take advantage of you. We want what’s best for your pet, because we understand how important they are to you. They are like family to us, too, but we can’t give them the best care without your help. Think of it as a symbiotic relationship.

[theliterateape]

Wet Rat

By Paul Teodo and Tom Myers

The following is an excerpt from the forthcoming novel Cross Fit by Paul Teodo and Tom Myers.

I SPENT THE NEXT COUPLE HOURS REVIEWING HVAC SPECS FOR THE OR WITH MY FACILITIES GUY, Joe Spanski, a bald, thick armed, second generation Pole from a family of Warsaw brick masons. He told me it was impossible. “Boss, it’s cooling, not refrigeration. Them people in there are alive, it ain’t the morgue.”

“That’s what he wants. Fifty-eight degrees.”

Spanski gave me a sly look. “Have you seen his wife?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“She looks dead. Maybe he likes ‘em cold.”

She did look dead. “Thanks Joe, so we can’t get any lower than sixty?” I was pretty sure Eriksen liked them cold.

“Right boss, and with that, we’ll have staff half froze.”

Joe lumbered out of my office, tool belt rattling down the hall.

It was only ten o’clock. Too long to wait. I couldn’t stand it. I needed this job. I had a mortgage, a car payment, my kid’s college debt and alimony. I couldn’t walk away. But most important I had my pride. I tried to act like I could give a shit, but getting canned would fuck with my ego.

I stepped into Jenna’s office. “I’m going for that walk now.”

“It’s pouring.”

“I’m going to see Greta.”

“You’re not supposed to see her till…” She paused, conflicted. We hadn’t discussed the meeting, but she knew what was in store for me. She was a Christian and loyal to me — her boss. But Greta had hired right out of high school.

I was pissed. “Tell me what you know.”

“I can’t.” She turned away hiding her tears.

I grabbed her shoulder and tried to turn her around. “For Christ’s sake tell me.”

Her body tensed.

What the hell am I doing? She didn’t deserve to be the recipient of my fear.

“I’m going to her office.”

“You know she doesn’t like when her schedule is altered.”

“I’m altering it.”

She gathered herself. “Take this, it’s pouring.” She pulled a large green and white golf umbrella from her closet, Western Highlands Medical Center emblazoned on its surface.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

“God Bless you.”

I doubted it.

✶

I BENT INTO THE WIND. Rain slopped from my shoes with every step. The storm fought the umbrella trying to turn it inside out. Tommy would tell me when you’re stressed take a walk. In the freaking rain? In some twisted way I felt if bad shit was going to happen it would be better to find out if I was soaked and shivering. Like a rat.

I stomped around the campus aimlessly, shivering, reading signs and planning my defense.

Emergency Department Fitness Center Valet Parking

It always irritated me that in this town you couldn’t park your own car. I never felt comfortable here. I parked my own car.

Physician Parking

An arrow pointed into the heated garage, red warming lamps glowing in the gloom.  A black 7 Series Beemer shot by splashing dirty water on my knock-off Armani. Now I was soaked to my skivvies. The testicle Mr.Vitorri personally attended to in 1969 retracted, searching for someplace dry.

I was wet and freezing. I needed shelter. I headed into Building 2. When I yanked the door against the wind it whipped wide open. I thought the hinges would pop. “Nasty out there.” Rachel, our greeter (yes greeter) smiled as she handed me a small towel. I smiled back (why not?).

 “You’re soaked!” She realized that in spite of the eight-hour class she took on smiling, and the three hundred dollars we were invoiced for it, a big-toothed grin when your executive vice president was standing in the doorway soaked to the bone was not in accordance with that expensive training. “Good thing you have an umbrella.” She caught on to the fact I was dripping from head to toe. She ended our awkward curriculum-driven encounter with a final cliché. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Really? Who says that shit in real life, other than those force fed the line in a three hundred dollar an hour customer service class?

“No Rachel, nothing else.” I shook Jenna’s God’s umbrella and it sprayed on the floor, the glass entryway, and even on dear smiling Rachel. “Nothing at all.”

I stood in front of one of the vents trying to warm up and dry off. A walk in the rain had not calmed me down one bit. I was irritable, discontent, and ready for a fight.

✶

I COULDN’T PUT IT OFF ANY LONGER. I sprinted toward the Admin. Building. The rain was relentless. Sheets of cold pellets bounced sideways off the asphalt cascading down the parking lot. The big umbrella lost its battle with Mother Nature.

Finally, I ducked under the canopy of the Admin. Building. Home free. Out of the downpour. But no. Not today. Keycard. I must have dropped it somewhere. Shit. I buzzed. Buzzed again. “May I help you?” Joan, Greta’s dour gatekeeper. Yeah, make it stop raining. Dry me off. In fact make this meeting just go away. “May I help you?” Again. Her annoyance made clear even through the garbled speaker.

“I don’t have my keycard!”

“Jesus,” she mumbled. The door clicked. I stomped into the lobby then stood motionless absorbing the heating lamp’s infrared rays. I shook like a wet dog.

“You’re wet.”

No shit. ”I’m fine.”

She handed me a few useless brown paper towels from the bathroom. “You’re going to need to wait. You were supposed to meet at three. She’s clearing her schedule.”

Jenna had warned them; her loyalty split between her funnyman boss and her practical fear of the person who buttered her bread.

I plopped down on the cream-colored leather chair, water sluicing off, running between the cushions. Carefully placed in front of me on a cut glass coffee table was a stainless steel carafe, tall and elegant, and two mugs, engraved in gold with the hospital logo. Precisely spaced spoons, napkins, sugar, sweetener, cream, and two cookies were rigidly arrayed, discouraging disturbance. Just like when I interviewed three years ago. It didn’t impress me then, and it didn’t now.

“She’s ready for you.”

I looked up, startled. “Ready?”

“You came to see Greta?” She looked down on me knowing full well what was about to happen. “She cleared her schedule.” Her voice like my third grade nun, Sister Lillian. Judgmental, arrogant, and punishing. I was ready for her to complete her chastisement with “You boob!” and smack me with her ruler.

“Thank you.” I said meekly, disappointed that I was so terrified.

“You make the staff uncomfortable.” “Bullshit.” What the fuck did I say that for? “See. You blurt things without thinking.”

She led to me to Greta’s office in accordance with her training. I knew my way but we were an organization that operated appropriately and people were led into Greta’s office, you didn’t stroll there on your own.

Greta didn’t look up when I walked in. I stood wet and silent as a servant, dripping on the blue sculpted carpet.

Her desk was actually a large table with ornately carved legs exuding French elegance. I know shit about furniture, but if this wasn’t Louie-the-something-French, nothing was. In contrast the papers in front of her were strewn about. A marble pen holder engraved Greta Washburn Chief Executive Officer, emphasized her importance. Neat piles of red, blue, and tan files were stacked to the left. Expensive paintings of pastoral waterfalls cascading down mountains with gurgling brooks and dark green trees hung evenly on her walls. A fish tank off to the right, flat black fish eyeballing me through the glass and a potted Norfolk Island pine big enough to climb guarded her back.

I stood silently, waiting, as she continued to pretend she was reviewing exceptionally important documents, peering through her Kate Spade reading glasses.

Tired of this subservient crap I snorted. She looked up dropping her glasses to their diamond chain. “Oh, I’m sorry. Take a seat.” She pointed with her pen to the smallish chair strategically placed in front of her desk just for this encounter. “Coffee?”

“No. No thanks.” I could be a smug prick. But now, at the moment of truth, I was starting to sweat into my already wet suit.

“You’ve been here, how long? Four or five years?”

“Three.” I tried not to sound like I was correcting her.

“Fit. I’m not sure how to describe it. You know it when you see, feel it.” She paused, looked down, and sighed, “and you know when you don’t.”

Like porn? No don’t say that.

Suddenly, the gorilla was back. I tried a deep breath, but it didn’t prevent the trembling. I had all that debt. But it was just stuff. Getting fired was so belittling I wasn’t sure I could continue. Without a drink.

“Fit?” I’d needed to say something. “I went to your classes.” Too defensive.” I’ve tried to be more tactful.” It was stupid, but I forged ahead. “Can you give me more of what you mean?”

Her lips twisted like she’d just swallowed bad medicine. She knew I was staring at her mouth and I could tell she didn’t like it.

“We have a culture. People here.” Again with the lips. I tried not to look. She placed her hand over her mouth. She poured a glass of water from a crystal pitcher engraved with two tennis players. I hated the game. “The way people treat each other. You,” she paused, sipping the water, ice clinking in the glass, “act different, it makes people feel awkward, uncomfortable. It insults them.”

I do that. I know. Sometimes because that’s the way I am and sometimes because I feel awkward.  It’s worse with women. I don’t fit. And there were women everywhere around here. I needed this job. But I needed not to have my ego torn from my chest more than this job. How could I tell people that I got canned, separated, replaced, whatever the buzzword was this month for getting fired?

But I tried. “We’re ahead of budget. Three years ago you were in the… crapper. People are happy. Patient Satisfaction rising.”

“You make the staff uncomfortable.”

“Bullshit.” What the fuck did I say that for?

“See. You blurt things without thinking. You confront our doctors. This morning with Bjorn.”

The asshole already got to her. “He’s an asshole.”

“Again. You don’t think.”

Actually I think about what I’m going to blurt out and then I do it anyway. That gets me into trouble.

She was right. I didn’t fit in here. Fuck her and these pampered, arrogant, indulgent, kiss-ass doctors. I decided right there I wanted out. “Thank you for the opportunity to work here. I learned a lot from you.” I was unaware I could say such bullshit so sincerely.

“You don’t mean that. You don’t respect me. It’s written all over you.” I didn’t, it was, and like the asshole I am, rarely tried to hide it. Now I saw where it got me. Out the fucking door.

“You may not believe this Greta, but I am sorry if I have caused you or others any harm.”

She studied me. She looked down at her desk. Shook her head. Face softening. Lips normal. “You have a lot of talent. Learn how to use it without shoving it in people’s faces.”

“I do that when I’m feeling less than.” I did, and I also knew that an asshole doesn’t evoke much empathy.

“Talk to HR about your separation package and your rights. You can come back this weekend and clean out your personal belongings or do it today. Your choice. Please place the articles on this list in this envelope and deliver to HR by Monday.” She handed me the list and the envelope. She extended her hand. I grasped it. She gripped mine firmly. “I wish you well.”

I believe she did. But I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe that’s part of what she meant about fit. I get these feelings, they burn inside me until they force their way out. They do me no good. And here I was again.

Everybody knew. Her assistant. Jenna. Security, who now stood at the door, just in case. They reported to me. I was the last to know. My pride was shattered. Fear filled my chest. I tried to hold my head up. It’d be over soon. I’d done it to others. Now it was my turn. The second time for me. The first time. I was a kid, twenty-two, helper on a beer truck. I wasn’t stealing, it was the driver. I didn’t rat him out.

Out the door. The torrent had turned to a drizzle. I walked aimlessly towards my car searching for my keys. Should I leave? Go back to my office? It really didn’t matter. Two hours ago I was in charge of multi-million dollar budgets and hundreds of people, who at times respected or feared me. Now some would be celebrating and some might be mourning my demise. Shortly, I’d be forgotten. Everybody survives without you, to think they won’t is bullshit. Anything else is an over assessment of my importance. I’m just a guy. Not a savior.

The wind had died. I was both sweating and shivering. I felt very much alone. A year was going to be hard to get.

I had nothing to report, and no one to report to. It was barely noon. I hadn’t spoken to my ex in twelve years. My two boys were gone, one in Fiji teaching yoga and meditation, the other living in the city at a job he’d just started. They didn’t need my grief. My dog loved me, but lately it seemed like I bored him. Most likely when I got home I’d find a pile on the floor to welcome me.

I’d clean out the office later. I found my car in the visitor lot where I always parked. I pressed my fob. Nothing, not a twitch or honk or anything. Again. Nothing. Dead. Just like me. I stabbed the key into the door and twisted the lock open. I slid into the seat. My soggy suit stuck to my chilled skin.

And yes, Rebecca was gone. After four years she’d left the ring on the nightstand and shut the door. She had pushed for that ring. But we never set the date. Never called me her fiancé. Walked out with a sad look on her face, but not enough sadness to get her to stay. Maybe we weren’t a good fit either. I don’t think it was the drinking. I kept that from her pretty good. And the few times I didn’t she joined in. Her reasons were just as clear as Greta’s. “We’re going nowhere. We don’t communicate. You’re far away and we have no future.” Stuff I knew was more true than not. So instead of fighting for us, I let us drift away.

She was right. I didn’t fit in here. Fuck her and these pampered, arrogant, indulgent, kiss-ass doctors.

A triple Dewar’s White Label with a splash of water would go good right now, but I was almost at a year. The last time I had that drink I woke up in Mexico laying on a cot embracing a bearded goat. Turns out I’m not a farm animal kind of guy.  So I couldn’t let Rebecca’s rejection and the evisceration by Greta with all its accompanying humiliation drive me to the bottle.

I could hear Tommy telling me “cunning, baffling, powerful”. He talked like that. He was my sponsor. And he worried too much.

I should call him. I always felt better when I did. He’d chew my ass. But I was sixty, not a kid. And I just got fired.

I started the car. Cold air blasted my legs. I was jumpy, rubbing my hands together, waiting for the air to warm. Some idiot was barking on sports talk radio. I didn’t need his big mouth yelling at me. He was trying to make everything sound important or profound, but like he was from the neighborhood. He probably was a media-wise shill, from an Ivy League school, knocking down a couple hundred K a year, selling Viagra to guys who didn’t have anything better to do in the middle of the day. Now, I was one of them. How long before I started calling in?

I’d call Tommy instead. He’d give me his crap, and I’d listen, then feel better, and then he’d throw in, “Let’s go to a meeting.” A meeting was his answer for everything. Sometimes, you know, it’s not. Sometimes you have to hit the problem between the eyes. He’d always say “Pause, pray, proceed.” Sometimes it was just too much. I threw on Puccini’s Tosca instead. Depressing as hell, full of torture, murder, and suicide, but the music was beautiful.

I backed up the car. The white Crown Vic I signed a requisition for just months ago edged closer. For Christ’s sake, what did Greta think? I was going to go nuts? Randy, the old guy, sat behind the wheel, Brylcreemed hair and weird handlebar mustache. Junior, his sidekick, a steroid pumped over-caffeinated blonde kid coiled next to him, ready to jump out of the car. Both carefully watching to make sure I left without incident. Security. Highlands’ finest.

I threw it into gear. Randy and Junior in pursuit. What the hell, give them something to do, I’d liven up their day, and make them earn their money. I drove slowly around the campus heading towards Greta’s office. Would they just follow me or flip on their lights? Training would indicate caution, but no lights. I shouldn’t be doing this. One was old, near retirement, and the other’s juice-strained mind was totally unpredictable. As I exited the campus they looked relieved, staring between the wipers on the Crown Vic. With a nod they each saluted, acknowledging my final departure. I was touched by their deference and as always, disappointed in my behavior.

[markchoq-blog]

Star Trek Raza Episode 1

Star Trek Raza

Season 1, Episode 1

Asylum

 Utopia Planitia Shipyards, Captains Log Stardate 63204.858

 I have recently arrived at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards to meet with Admiral Braun after a tense three-year mission guarding the Bajoran wormhole from the Dominion. I have been given the command of the newest Diligent class starship called the Raza. After the return of the U.S.S. Voyager and the need to beef up the fleet with quicker ships that pack more of a punch, the federation has come up with the Diligent.

 Admiral Braun is sitting at his desk going over the recent current events across the Federation. He is a true Federation officer, now in his mid-sixties; just reaching the rank of Fleet Admiral this past year. He has been a Starfleet officer since the age of eighteen. He has seen the Federation at its best and he has certainly has seen it at its worst. As he takes a sip of his morning coffee, the only cup his doctor allows per day; a chime comes across his communications badge.

 “Sir, I have a Captain Decker here to see you.” states his receptionist, Mae Crumpshaw.

 “Yes, let him in.” responds the Admiral.

 The door to the Admirals office slides open as a very well-dressed Captain Decker marches into the room and up to the Admiral. Captain Decker, also a lifelong Starfleet officer and heavily decorated in his own right. Captain Decker has most recently come off a three-year mission as Captain of the U.S.S. Yamato as part of the fleet guarding the Bajoran Wormhole outside Deep Space 9. Admiral Braun gets up from his desk and with a wide smile reaches out to Decker. “Morgan, how the hell have you been you old bastard? What ass crack part of the galaxy did they drag you from to give you this command?” Braun jokingly remarks as he shakes his longtime friend’s hand.

 “I’ve been here and there Dave. Putting fires out from here to Deep Space 9 and back. Just when you think you can take some downtime, another damn skirmish with the Dominion breaks out.”

 “I know what you mean. That’s why I think you’re the perfect man to command this ship.” Braun motions toward the open chair next to the desk. “Please sit down.”

 Morgan takes a seat across from the Admiral, taking a moment to straighten out his uniform.

 “Can I get you anything?” asks Braun.

 “No, I’m fine. I would like to see the Raza though.” answers the Captain getting right to the point.

 Braun smiles at him. “Just like the man I knew thirty years ago. Not wasting any time.”

 Briefly his mind flashes back to their days about the U.S.S. Starfire. Both were recent graduates from Stafleet Academy, but neither knew of one another until Commander Darza bunked the two of them together. Both hated Darza but respected him for his rank and command. Darza was a pissy Andorian that got off on assigning shit details to all the cadets.

 Admiral Braun grabs a data-pad off his desk. “I’ve reviewed your senior staff requests and I have to say I am pretty impressed. This is a mighty fine group of Starfleet officers you’ve assembled to steer your boat. This female pilot of yours notched top marks at the academy.” he continues to read about her noting that she’s Betazoid. “She’s a Betazoid? I never met a Betazoid pilot before. Is she really that good?”

 “I knew her father back in the day. If she’s half as good as her old man she’ll do just fine.” answers the Captain as he references the year he spent stationed on Betazed as Starfleet Chief of Security at the Betazed embassy. It was there that he met her father Marcus Monroe; who was a fighter pilot assigned to the Betazoid fighter squadron. He was a good, honorable man. Morgan also knew her mother, Litta Naru. She was a professor of Linguistics at the University of Betazed. By Betazoid standards she was astonishingly beautiful and both men viewed her as a goddess. Both men fell in love with her, but Morgan knew that having a wife while serving in Starfleet just wasn’t in the cards at that time for him, so he left Betazed which opened the door for his friend to pursue her. Within a year Marcus and Litta were married and soon after that Faye Monroe was born. How his heart broke when he heard that Marcus was killed during the invasion of Betazed by the Dominion. Too many of his friends died during that war. So many, that he has lost count over the years.

 The Admiral continues to scroll down the data pad, but again stops at something curious, “What about your XO? He seems kind of loose in the saddle. Not very “Starfleet” if you know what I mean?  Are you sure he’s ready for this?” referring to Commander Mitchell. Now Commander James Mitchell isn’t you’re a-typical Starfleet Commander. He hates the rules and regulations that bog down Starfleet. He’s also a very out spoken man who has a bad tendency of saying anything that comes to mind with not much of a filter. On occasion that has landed him in the brig for a night or two. But that’s a story to be told later.

 Captain Decker comes to his XO’s defense quickly, “Commander Mitchell is a first-class Starfleet Officer.” and he pauses trying to choose his words carefully. “Please Admiral; don’t judge a book by its cover. During the Dominion War he was my Transporter Chief. I watched him rescue over five hundred civilians. He might not be text book Starfleet, but he’s got his shit together.”

 The Admiral sees that he’s struck a nerve with Decker, “I trust your instincts Captain. And I trust that if this “cowboy” gets out of line you’ll rein him in?”

 “I promise you Admiral, he’ll be fine.” as he tries to change the topic, “What about the rest of my crew? Have they all arrived yet?”

 Braun scrolls further down the data pad. “Most of them arrived last week. I think the Betazoid Helmsman we talked about and your Cardassian Science Officer should be arriving this morning.” and he stares up from his pad. “Cardassian?” Is that wise James? Those bastards sided with the Dominion. I still can’t get that shitty taste out of my mouth.”

 Captain Decker can’t stop feeling like this is an interrogation. “Rheyna Karn grew up during the Dominion War. Her parents were both killed when the Dominion turned their backs on Cardassia Prime and attempted to wipe out their entire species. All she knows is death and pain. She joined Starfleet to get away from that.” he pauses feeling the anger building up inside of him. “Sir, I met this girl a few years back when she was stationed on Deep Space 9 assigned to the science team studying the Bajoran Wormhole. She’s a very bright young woman that has a hell of a future ahead of her. Cardassian or not, she’s just what the Raza needs.”

 The Admiral accepts the Captains answer, but continues; “Very well, but let me ask you though; what’s your take on the relationship between your XO and your Chief Engineer?” asks the Admiral. “Can they keep their personal lives separate from their professional careers?”

 Decker knows exactly what the Admiral is talking about. Commander Mitchell and Lieutenant Commander A’Ryn Sung have been seeing each other for a while now. About a year ago, both were vacationing on Risa when they met and hit it off. A’Ryn is not your typical Klingon. She’s much more feminine than a Klingon woman and Mitchell sensed that immediately. It was love at first sight for both of them. “Sir, there’s no Starfleet regulation when it comes to officers dating each other and honestly I don’t care what they do on their personal time as long as they get the job done when the bell rings. That’s all that matters to me.”

 The Admiral can’t help but chuckle. “That’s fair enough Morgan. Listen, I just don’t want A’Ryn to get distracted. She’s done a hell of a job on the design and installation of the new warp drives aboard the Raza. She’s one hell of a Chief Engineer and you’re going to need her at her best when you get underway.” Braun places the data pad down on his desk.

 Carefully choosing his words the Captain asks. “If I may, I have also reviewed the personnel staff and I noticed a young Yeoman that has been assigned to my personal staff. And the funny thing is sir, she has the same last name as you.”

 “That’s right Morgan. My granddaughter Daisy will be a fine addition to your crew.”

 Captain Decker tries to wave the Admiral off. “Sir, do you think assigning your granddaughter to the Raza is a smart move?  Maybe she would be better off aboard the Enterprise or maybe assigned to a DS station? I’m just not sure being aboard the Raza on her maiden voyage is going to be a good experience for her.”

 “There’s no place in the galaxy that I would feel she would be safer than under your command. Plus, she’s has less than a year to go and she will be heading off to Starfleet Academy.”

 “I understand sir. I’ll take very good care of her. So now that we are done picking my crew apart, what does Starfleet have planned for us once we shake the Raza down?” asks the eager Captain.

 The look on the Admiral’s face turns very serious. “I’m afraid there isn’t going to be a shakedown Morgan. There is no time for that.”

 “What? No shakedown? That’s insane. This is a new design. New warp engines. A crew that has been pieced together.” argues the Captain.        

 “Morgan, we need the Raza to escort three Olympic Class Hospital ships to the Romulan Neutral Zone. After Romulus and Remus were destroyed when their sun went supernova, thousands of injured and homeless began flooding across the Romulan border. Civilian casualties are coming in at an alarming rate.”

 “What about the Romulan Neutral Zone sir? Are the Romulan’s not adhering to the treaty?”

 “The Romulan civilians don’t care about the Neutral Zone treaty. They are running for their lives. Wherever they can get help for their families. But Starfleet is still abiding to the Neutral Zone Treaty. You are not to cross the border to aid any Romulan starship. If they cross over the border and ask for help, you and the medical ships will assist in any way you can.”

 “And what if we or the medical ships are fired upon?” asks Morgan.

 “Your mission is to protect those medical ships at all cost. You are on a mission of peace to give medical aid to those that need it. Those pointy eared devils fire at you or those medical ships you have permission to fire back. Do not engage until they engage you first. Do you understand? I don’t want another galactic war on our hands.

 “Understood Admiral.” answers the Captain.

 “Good. Now I want the Raza along with the hospital ships underway today at fifteen hundred hours. As soon as you get to the outpost at Tarod IX I want you to report in. That’s where we have been seeing the most casualties crossing the border.”

 “Very good sir.” answers the Captain.

 The two get up out of their seats; shake hands and Captain Decker leaves the admiral’s office heading straight for the Raza.

 Docking Bay #2

 The U.S.S. Elixir has just completed unloading its passengers who just arrived from Bajor and who are now here at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards ready for their new duty assignments.  The crowded halls are bustling with activity. The shipyards are normally a high security station, but with the newly designed Raza nearly ready to launch the station is on high alert. Security guards are watching everyone walking the promenade. Anyone that looks out of place is stopped and asked for ID. Lieutenant Faye Monroe and her best friend Lieutenant Rheyna Karn have just disembarked from the Elixir and walk the halls of the promenade arm in arm taking in the sights and sounds of the star base.

 “Look at this place Faye!!! Did you ever think we would see a place like this?” remarks an amazed Rheyna.

 Faye stops looking at her best friend “I think we should just get to the Raza, make sure our bags made it to our rooms; and report to the bridge. I heard that the captain is already here. I want to be on the bridge when he arrives.” answers Faye in a very serious tone.

 “Will you just calm down Faye. There will be plenty of time to get to work. The Raza isn’t leaving without their best pilot at the helm.”

 Rheyna is distracted as she eyeballs two very well-dressed fighter pilots who walk by smiling at the two women like they are dinner.

 “Right now, I think we need to taste the cuisine that this place has to offer.” as she looks out the men’s asses in the tight flight suits.

 Faye rolls her eyes. “Are you always thinking with your vagina Rey?”

 Rheyna laughs “I can’t help it. Men in flight suits get me all worked up.”

 They laugh together as they continue toward the Raza’s dock, while unknowingly across the deck; a young MACO named Juan Ruiz watches the two young women. His sergeant pats him on the shoulder.

 “Leave it alone junior. Fleet doesn’t mix with grunts.” states Scott Young. The sergeant of the MACO team assigned to the Raza as the Captains personal guard.

 “I guess your right boss. You can’t blame a guy for dreaming.” answers Ruiz. Juan is a new recruit right out of basic training, who has been with the MACO’s for less than a year. Being his first duty assignment, he’s drawn a premium assignment. Thinking back to all the possible scenarios, this was the cream of the crop.

 “Hey, let’s go stow our gear and I’ll buy you a drink. I hear the Daboo girls at the Stargazer are hot as hell, and they might be more up your ally.” smiles Young.

 The two men grab their gear and head off to the lower levels of the Raza where the enlisted men have their housing units.

 Commander James Mitchell’s quarters

The lights in Commanders Mitchell’s quarters are dimmed low to a point where you can barely see shadows dance across the room. Out of the darkness a chirping can be heard over one of the communication badges that were left on a bed side table.

 “Engineering to Commander Sung.” states the unknown voice on the other end.

 The young female Klingon sits up in bed and the thin silk bed sheet slides down her body exposing her naked breasts. She rubs her eyes and brushes her brown hair from her eyes trying to get a feel for what the hell is going on. The voice on the communicator repeats. “Engineering to Commander Sung?”

 A’Ryn Sung, the young hot shot Chief Engineer of the Raza; rolls out of bed naked and rushes to the nightstand searching for the communications device. She mistakenly grabs Mitchell’s com badge and taps the device.

 “Sung here, go ahead.” but nothing but dead air answers her. After realizing she grabbed the wrong communicator, she tosses the com badge down and continues searching for her own com badge finally finding it under her discarded dress that James ripped off her the night before. Her mind flashes back to when they got back from the Stargazer Lounge the night before. The animal side of her Klingon heritage could not be controlled and James loved it. He couldn’t get enough of her. But she wondered if he loves her or was she just another “port of call”. They say many men of Starfleet keep a woman at each port of call. That way they can avoid getting tied down to just one woman. Why have one when you can have so many? This is something she doesn’t want. She is sure of that. But what are his true feelings? Does he truly love her or is he using her until he gets tired of her? Is she his “port of call”? She taps her com badge “Sung here, go ahead.”

 “Sir, you wished to be alerted when the Captain arrived aboard the Raza.”

 “Thank you. I’ll be there shortly.” A’Ryn tosses the com badge aside and grabs her clothes. “Computer lights on full” The lights come up full and the man in bed tosses the sheet off his head. Commander Mitchell’s hair is a mess and he still has the scratches down his chest that A’Ryn gave him that past night while in a fit of passion. He grunts as he leans up on one arm, the same arm that she used to toss him down onto his bed last night. The same arm that she may have torn a muscle in. He grins because he knows it was worth it. He slowly sits up and smiles at her as he sees her bending over grabbing her high heels and min-skirt. She frantically begins searching for her bra and panties.

 “What’s your rush sunshine?” Mitchell states as he taps the mattress. “Why don’t you come back to bed and we can talk about breakfast?”

 She looks back at him with a Klingon look of disgust. “You’re kidding right? You know if I come back to bed we will NOT talk about breakfast. Plus, Captain Decker is on his way to the Raza. I need to get my ass down to Engineering.” she finally finds her undergarments and hurries off to the sonic shower as he gingerly props himself up against the head board.

 “You need to relax Ryn (Mitchells pet nickname for her). The Cap’s a good guy. He’s not going to care if you’re a few minutes late.”

 She looks around the doorway. “I suggest you get your cute ass in this shower or I’m going to start without you.”

 Mitchell smiles as he whips the covers aside and painfully makes his way to the shower.

 The Romulan Science vessel K’Birth

 The K’Birth, a Romulan Science and Research; vessel races at warp 8 across space pushing its warp engines beyond its limit toward the Romulan-Federation boarder. The crew of just about one hundred science and medical personnel can be seen scrambling trying to keep their ship ahead of the apex predator following them. The captain of the K’Birth looks across the deck to a young Romulan man of not nearly twenty yet. “I’m not sure how much more we can hold him off Sorek. It’s just a matter of time before Sharn catches up to us and when he does it will be hell to pay for all of us.”

 “Captain Tellos, you worry about getting us to the coordinates I gave you and I will handle Sharn IF he catches us.” states Sorek without a look of concern on his face.

 “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing boy. This is a damn suicide run if you ask me” he then barks at the helmsman. “Helm, plot course to Tarod IX and prepare to engage.”

 The helmsman looks back at the captain. “But sir, Tarod IX is on the other side of the Neutral Zone? That’s Federation space.”

 “I gave you an order helmsman! Now do as I command or I will have you relieved of duty and tossed in the brig!“ and he waits as the helmsman turns back to his control console and prepares to initiate the order.

 “Course plotted and awaiting your command sir.”

 The Captain looks across the bridge to Sorek as he gives the helm the command. “Engage! Warp 8.5!”

 The helmsman begins the maneuver that the captain hopes will buy them precious time. The K’Birth veers off toward the Romulan Neutral Zone.

 Romulan Warbird Osiris

      For the past week the Romulan Warbird Osiris, a massive D’deridex Class starship; has been searching for the science vessel K’Birth. The Osiris is a monstrous sixty-three deck warship with nearly fifteen hundred men and women onboard all serving the Romulan Empire loyally. To their ire, the K’Birth has been doing a very good job dodging them, which is a nod to the K’birth’s captain and crew; but angering the K’Birth’s High Commander. On the bridge of the Osiris the crew scrambles to try and locate the much smaller science vessel. The High Commander sits back in the Captain’s chair losing his patience.  

 “Tell me we have found her?!” barks High Commander Sharn as he stares down the back of the navigational officer’s head.

 The communications officer reluctantly turns in his chair to face the High Commander and answers back. “I’m sorry to report sir that we have lost them again. Their warp signature disappeared into a Nebula cloud. We have yet to determine where they exited.” he swallows hard as turns back in his chair and looks back down at his console.

 “I want them found and I want them found NOW!!!” He screams out as he slams his fist down on his arm console. The bridge goes deadly silent as each man and woman do everything they can to find the runaway science ship.

 Aboard the U.S.S. Raza

 Ever since Captain Decker stepped foot on the Raza, young Yeoman Daisy Braun has been like his shadow every step of the way asking “Can I get you this” or “Can I get you that?” and it’s getting to the point that Captain Decker is ready to pop. The turbo lift doors slide open and he walks onto the bridge of the Raza. The Chief Communications Officer Lieutenant Jeremy Cho snaps to attention and blurts out. “Captain on the bridge!!” Cho, a young Federation Officer of Japanese descent has earned the promotion to Operations Officer aboard the Raza. The entire bridge crew stops what they are doing and stands at attention as the honorable Captain Decker makes his way toward his command chair. Captain Decker nods to the bridge crew and they all go back to work. He’s just about to sit down when he notices that his XO’s station is empty. He looks at his Yeoman.

 “Yeoman, where’s Commander Mitchell?”

 The eighteen-year-old dark-haired Yeoman nearly passes out as Decker stares her down waiting for his answer. She just stands there, mouth drawn open and nothing coming out. She has a hard time just remembering to breathe, but even that seems to fail her. He turns to his Chief Helmsman Lieutenant Monroe. “Lieutenant, where is Commander Mitchell?” asks a visibly irritated captain.

 Monroe swivels her chair to face the Captain. “Specifically, sir?” answers the unsure lieutenant trying to buy her commander time to show up. Awkwardly, you can hear a pin drop on the bridge.

 Now the Captain is pissed. “Will someone please tell me where the hell Commander Mitchell is?” snaps the captain.

 “I believe that Commander Mitchell and Commander Sung spent the morning procreating in his quarter’s sir.” blurts out Chief Tactical and Security Officer Lieutenant Phos. The female android, that caught the eye of the captain years ago during the Borg invasion. It was while the captain himself was just a Lieutenant Commander. The Battle of Wolf 359, just eight light years from Earth; saw the deaths of many Federation officers and civilians alike.

 Very annoyed he turns to Phos. “Please see to it that Commander Mitchell is in my Ready Room in five minutes.” he starts to walk toward the Ready Room with young Yeoman Braun right behind him.

 “Yes sir.” answers Phos as she taps her communications badge. “Commander Mitchell please report to the bridge.”

 As the door to his Ready Room slides open and the captain walks through, he barks back to Phos again. “And please alert the senior staff that there will be a mission briefing in thirty minutes in the Briefing Room. That will be all Yeoman” and the door slides shut in Yeoman Braun’s face as she comes to a dead stop before walking into it.

 “Yes sir.” answers Phos as her face never changes expression as she taps on her console sending messages out to the senior staff.  Just then, Commander Mitchell walks onto the bridge with a shit eating grin on his face. He stops and sees how tense the bridge is right now. “What? What did I miss? Did the Dominion try to invade us again?” he chuckles as he sees that nobody else is laughing.  The young Lieutenant Cho speaks up for the group.

 “The captain is here and he isn’t happy that you weren’t on the bridge when he showed up.”

 Mitchell adjusts his uniform as he turns and heads toward the captain’s ready room.

 “And Phos said you were busy…having sex with A’Ryn.” blurts out Cho who embarrassingly looks back down to his console faking like he’s doing something important. Mitchell stops in his tracks and stares at Phos.

 “Phos! What the hell?”

 “Sir, I do not believe that I used the words “having sex” as the Lieutenant has stated. I believe that my exact word that I used was “procreating”.” Mitchell rubs his forehead as Phos tries to explain further. “Captain Decker asked the bridge crew a direct question and nobody had an answer so I…” Mitchell is pissed as he heads toward the ready room pointing a finger back at Phos cutting her off in mid thought.

 “Dick move Phos you damn bucket of bolts! When I get done with the Captain you and I are going to sit down and discuss what it means to have your Commanders back!!” The door to the Ready Room slides open and the Commander walks through.

 Phos tilts her head as she tries to process that last statement by the Commander. “I am not comprised of bolts. I also fail to understand how the Commander could be upset. I simply stated facts to the captain as was asked.”

 Lt. Cho wants to explain to her what the Commander meant but doesn’t waste his time as he goes back to work on his console. Mitchell walks into the Captains Ready Room and stops in front of the Captains desk. He can see the captain reading over a data pad.

 “Commander James Mitchell reporting as ordered sir.” Mitchell waits at attention for the Captain to acknowledge him. After a moment the Captain puts down his data pad and looks up at Mitchell.

 “Please relax Commander. Sit down.” Mitchell pulls out the chair directly across from the captain’s desk and sits down. “So, let’s get right to it. This little thing you have with my Chief Engineer, Commander Sung; is this going to get messy?” asks the captain.

 Mitchell chuckles. “Only if she gets pissed at me and breaks my legs.”

 “James, I’ve known A’Ryn for years and I can tell you first hand that if you do piss her off she’ll break BOTH of your legs.” answers the Captain. After a brief pause by both men, “She quite a ship, isn’t she?”

 “She’s a beauty Captain. So, when do we get to take her out and shake her down?” asks James.

 “Well Commander, that’s the thing. There isn’t going to be a shake down.”

 Mitchell looks confused. “Sir?”

 “Starfleet Command has ordered us to escort three Medical ships to the Romulan Neutral Zone. The mass exodus of injured across the border has taxed the limited resources of Tarod IX. We are to escort and assist those medical ships any way we can.”

 “Isn’t that a bit risky sir? Ever since Romulus and Remus were destroyed the Federation has been hard pressed to identify who’s ruling that madhouse.”

 “And that’s all the more reason to be there. We can’t send in three Medical ships without an escort. If the Romulan’s attack those Medical ships it’ll be a blood bath. We are there to keep the peace at any cost.”

 “I understand sir.”

 “Now would you be so kind as to grab that bottle of Scotch off the shelf and pour ten shots?” asks the Captain.

 Mitchell smiles back at the Captain. “Yes sir.”

 The Stargazer Lounge aboard the Raza

 The Stargazer lounge is the one place where both non-commissioned and commissioned officers get to mingle where pips and stripes don’t get in the way. The lounge is booming this afternoon as the Raza crew begins to mingle with each other. Sergeant Young and Private Ruiz walk into the lounge and grab two seats at the bar as the very attractive female barkeep walks up to them.

 “What will it be boys?” as she asks smiling all the while. Ruiz sees that she is Cardassian. Memories come back to him of the women he spotted on the star bases promenade.

 Young speaks up first. “We will have two Cardassian ales.”

 “An excellent choice Sergeant, you know your ales.” as she winks at him. She turns and asks the replicator. “Two large Cardassian ales.” and the replicator hums as two large mugs of ale appears on the pad. She grabs the drinks and places them in-front of the two marines. A Daboo girl approaches Ruiz and starts to rub his back.

 “Hi there handsome, my name’s Nia. What’s yours?” and she sits down in the open chair next to the young impressionable Marine. Ruiz starts to stutter and can’t get a word out as he eyes the beautiful woman.

 “His names Juan.” chimes in Young.

 Nia starts to rub Ruiz’s leg. “Cool name. You boys packing?” sliding her hand closer to Juan’s groin trying to feel him up. Young laughs at Juan as the Cardassian barmaid brings over a bowl of bar snacks.

 “I think she likes you private. One slip of gold pressed latinum will get you an hour with her in the back room.”

 Young stares at the barkeeps breasts. “What does it cost for an hour with you?”

 Just then two men followed by a much smaller Asian woman, dressed as fighter pilots; walk into the lounge and see the two marines talking to the barmaid. The largest of the three is not happy as they approach them at the bar. “Excuse me Gilora. Are these two ground pounders bothering you?” asks the bigger, meaner looking of the two men.

 “No, they’re good. Just newbie’s passing through.” answers Gilora as she wipes down the bar. The big man grabs Young by the shoulder.

 “Since you and your little buddy here are just passing through, why don’t you keep moving and get the hell out of here?”

 Young looks at the man’s hand. “First off… I don’t like to be touched.” and he grabs his Cardassian ale and smashes it across the bigger man’s head dropping him to the floor in a heap. Juan then leaps from his bar stool and dives on top of the prettier of the two men and a huge fist fight ensues. As fists start to fly, the smaller Asian woman just stands back and watches in annoyance. After a few minutes of bloodshed and broken tables, Gilora pulls out a blaster rifle from behind the bar and puts a blast into the ceiling. The commotion stops and all combatants stare at Gilora as security rushes into the bar.

 Back on the bridge Lieutenant Cho detects the phaser fire. Cho taps his communications badge. “Captain we have unauthorized phaser fire in the Stargazer Lounge.”

 The Captain taps his comm. badge. “Captain Decker to Chief LaMay.”

 LaMay answers. “Go ahead sir.”

 “Please see what the disturbance is in the Lounge.” orders the Captain in an annoyed tone.

 “I am already on it sir. It’s all under control. Just a few unruly patrons I’m afraid.”

 “Please let them spend a few hours in the brig and after we get underway see to it that they get to meet Commander Mitchell’s for further discipline.” barks the Captain.

 “Yes sir.” as LaMay looks at the four battered individuals and chuckles. “You four are in a world of shit now.” as he motions to his team of guards. “Lock these idiots up.”

 The guards escort the four drunken men to the brig as Nia chimes in. “Bye Juan!! Come by and see me again sometime sweetie.” and she blows him a kiss. Gilora sees this and snaps her bar rag at Nia.

 “Get your scrawny ass back to work.” Nia gets up and starts to mingle with the rest of the crowd.

 Back in Romulan space near the border

 Hours of searching for the Romulan Science ship has past and the High Commander is trying to get caught up on some sleep that he desperately needs. “Sir, we have located the Science vessel.” announces the Com Chief waking the High Commander up. The Commander rubs the sleep from his eyes still lying in bed.

 “Please alert Commander Bithor to lock the ship in a tractor beam. Have him ready the boarding party and I’ll be on the bridge momentarily.”

 The High Commander climbs out of bed and starts to make his way toward his desk when after a brief pause. “Sir, Commander Bithor has already boarded the ship.” states the Com Chief.

 “What are you talking about?! I specifically gave orders to NOT engage…” and in midsentence the Warbird is rocked by a massive explosion. The High Commander stumbles around until he regains his balance. The Warbird’s lights go dim as red warning lights begin to flash across the ship. “What the hell is going on up there, Com?” demands the High Commander.

 “Sir, it seems the science vessel was rigged to explode.” answers the Com in a frantic state.

 “Nobody detected that?! What’s our status?” asks the High Commander.

 “Sir we have lost Warp drive and we are venting atmosphere on decks three, four, seventeen and twenty. Casualty reports are still rolling in, but it doesn’t look good.” answers the panicky young man.

 “Damn him!!!” screams the High Commander as he swipes his arms across his desk tossing all his belongings to the floor. “I want a full report by the time I get to the bridge!”

 The Briefing Room aboard the U.S.S. Raza

 The senior staff starts filing in to the Briefing Room. The Captain and the Commander are already in the room seated as each department head takes a seat at the table with a glass of Scotch in front of them.

 “Thank you all for coming.” smiles the Captain.  “As you are all well aware, you were all handpicked by me to command this vessel. You truly are the best of the best.”

 “Don’t let it go to your heads.” Mitchell interjects as the group chuckles at his comment.

 “I am sorry sir that is impossible.” answers Phos. “My brain will not allow…”

 “Zip it Phos.” states Mitchell. “Later on, you and I are going to have to have ourselves a little talk about etiquette.” and the Captain tries to hold a laugh back as he continues.

 “I am very proud to serve with all of you. But I am afraid that our journey is about to get underway at full speed.”

 “Full speed sir?” asks Commander Sung trying to hold back her look of concern.

 “Starfleet has ordered us to escort three Medical class Hospital ships to the Romulan Neutral Zone outside of Tarod IX. After Romulus and Remus were destroyed there has been an uncontrollable amount of injured and dying refugees trying to cross the border looking for help. The station on Tarod IX cannot handle the situation so we are going there to help.

 “Romulan’s sir?” asks Cho.

 “People, lieutenant. These are people. Romulan’s or not they deserve our help.” answers the captain.

 “We haven’t even tried the warp drives at full power yet.” exclaims a panicked Chief Engineer.

 “We will be fine Chief. I have faith in you and your team.” smiles the Captain back at A’Ryn trying to calm her nerves.

 Sir, if I may; how many refugees are we talking about?” asks the Trill Medical Chief Mikah Dorn.

 “Starfleet estimates the injured to be in the thousands. Refugees alone may be in the tens of thousands.”

 “My God sir.” answers a shocked Medical Chief. “I had no idea that there were so many.”

 “What about the Romulan refugees? What if some of them ask for asylum?” asks Chief Counselor Commander Liira. A beautiful green skinned Orion that has caught the eye of Lieutenant Monroe.

 “We will offer sanctuary to all that ask for it. We are on a peaceful mission people. We are there to save lives and make a difference. We are not going there to fight unless someone picks a fight with us. Those are our orders.”

 “I understand sir” answers Liira. She looks away catching the chief Helmsman Lieutenant Monroe gawking at her from across the table. She starts to blush and looks away sensing a sexual feel to that look from the Betazoid.

 The Captain turns to his Chief of the Boat. “Master Chief LaMay?”

 Shocked that the Captain has directed a question toward him he locks eyes with the Captain. “Yes sir?”

 “Chief, I need you and Yeoman Braun to make sure that any civilians on board stay secured in their quarters while we are near the border. Make sure they are all briefed on what is going on and have them ready in case we need evacuate the ship. I want to be ready for anything that might transpire good or bad.”

 “Aye sir.” answers the Chief of the Boat in his Scottish accent. He is a human man in his mid-forties who has served on at least ten different starships over the course of his career. The one thing that has held him back was that he never went to Starfleet Academy. If he did, the thought goes through his head; that it might be he who might be the captain of the Raza.

 “Lieutenant Phos, as my chief tactician I need you to make sure that Alpha Flight is ready to go upon arrival. Once we reach the border I want them deployed and circling the Hospital ships at all times. Have the MACO’s on standby in case things get testy on one of the ships. Have security on high alert at all times. I want the Raza ready for anything that might go wrong. Expect the worst people and we will get through this.”

 “Yes sir. I…” Phos tries to continue but is cut short by the captain.

 “Not now Lieutenant.” The Captain turns to his Cardassian Science Officer. “Lieutenant Karn, I need your science team to keep an eye on Romulan space. Anything out of the ordinary I want to know immediately. Mr. Cho...” as the Captain turns to his Chief of Operations.

 The young lieutenant straightens up in his chair. He can’t wait to hear what the captain has in store for him.

 “…I need to you to monitor Romulan space very closely for any kind of chatter you can hear. We can’t afford to get blindsided by them. Anything at all, I want to know immediately.”

 “Yes sir.” snaps Cho in the most formal and respectful manner.

 The Captain looks right at Faye Monroe, his Chief Helmsman. The young woman he has a deep connection with above all others. “Faye, I need you to keep us close to the medical ships at all times. If things get squirrely out there I need the four of us to jump to warp on my command.”

 “Yes sir.” answers Faye as she looks at him. He carries himself just like her mother told her. He looks just like he did years ago in the pictures her mother showed her. A very attractive young officer, it’s no wonder her mother loved him so much.

 “You all have your orders. Now if you will give an old captain just one more moment.” He lifts up his glass of Scotch and raises it in the air. “To the crew of the Raza. The finest crew I ever have had the pleasure of commanding.”  

 As one they all answer. “To the Raza!!” and they each drink down their shot glasses and smile at each other. They each depart the ready room, but Chief LaMay stops and walks over to Commander Mitchell.

 “Sir, I believe there is a small issue that you need to address.”

 “Matt, we are not even underway yet. What the hell could be wrong? Tribbles in the replicators?” jokes Mitchell.

 “No sir. It’s Alpha flight and the MACOs sir.” answers LaMay.

 Mitchell rolls his eyes. “Take me to them.”

 The Romulan Warbird Osiris

 The High Commander is in his ready room standing over his desk going over all the information that is flooding in regarding the damage done to his ship and he’s none too happy. Communications Chief Ra’Nar walks into the office.

 “Sir, I have engineering’s report.

 The High Commander looks up from his never-ending pile of data pads. “Please tell me that my ship isn’t as damaged as it seems! Please tell me that we found them before they crossed the neutral zone into Federation space!!!

 Chief Ra’Nar stumbles for his words. “Sir…” he swallows hard and continues. “…Engineering is reporting that it will take eight more hours to get the warp engines back on line. Sensors also indicate that a low warp signature left the area about an hour before detonation. They are at least a day ahead of us.”

 In a fit of rage the High Commander swipes all the data pads off his desk sending them all crashing to the floor. “You tell those idiots in engineering that I want my engines operational in half that damn time!!!  I also want a coded message sent out to any warbird’s in the area!! I want that ship found before it crosses into Federation space!!!”

 The com chief grabs as many data pads off the floor as he can and scurries out the door.

 The Raza’s brig

 Chief LaMay and Commander Mitchell arrive down in the brig where Alpha Flight and the MACO’s are licking their wounds behind a level two stasis field. As he enters the room all four men stumble to their feet trying to hide their black eyes, split lips and torn uniforms. Mitchell looks at them trying to hide the memories of when it was he behind that stasis field not that long ago.

 “As you were, idiots.”

 LaMay can’t believe what he just heard Mitchell say.

 “Listen, I get all this non-com versus fly boy bull shit, I really do. In fact, back in the day I was known for starting a few brawls myself. But listen up kids. This is different times and I am not that same drunken guy anymore.” he pauses. “Well maybe part of me still is. Anyway, I’m going to give the four of you dick heads a direct order.” he pauses again for a few seconds as they look at him waiting for it. “Knock off this school girl shit or I’m going to toss your asses out the nearest air lock and leave you drifting in space. Do I make myself clear?”

 All at once their jaws hit the floor hearing how their commander just spoke to them. They each nod their head in agreement.

 “Out… fucking… standing people. Chief, let these dick heads sit here for a few more hours and then let them go.”

 “Aye sir.”

 “Ok then, time to take a leak. That Scotch went right through me!!” Mitchell walks out of the brig as LaMay is left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

 The infirmary aboard the Raza

 The Chief Medical Officer Dr. Mikah Dorn can be seen directing his numerous nurses and aids in preparation for an influx of patients they will be getting very shortly. Amidst the chaos Ensign Nirren walks into the room and nearly gets run over by a group of male nurses moving heavy medical equipment around. A young Vulcan woman, who has decided to get into the medical field just like her grandmother before her. As she looks through the crowd and sees the commanding officer talking to two security officers about how they have mishandled very delicate medical equipment. She walks up to him.

 “Dr. Dorn, Ensign Nirren reporting for duty sir.” Now either he doesn’t hear her or just ignores her, so she states it again this time tapping him on the shoulder. “Ensign Nirren report…” and in mid stride he whips around cutting her off.

 “I know who you are Ensign! Another high and mighty Vulcan who thinks she knows everything about medicine.” he bullishly states trying to take her down a peg or two.

 “I assure you sir I do not know “everything” about medicine. In-fact, I have asked for this assignment specifically to work with you.”

 “You did?” he seems surprised.

 “Yes sir. You are one of the leading medical doctors in the fleet today. It is an honor to be assigned to your staff.”

 “That’s great to hear. But don’t believe all the bull-shit you read across subspace. There are much better doctors out there that are not getting half the credit they deserve I assure you. Now since you’re here as my personal assistant I have a job for you.”

 Nirren straightens up eagerly listening for her first assignment.

 “Get any non-medical idiots out of my med bay NOW!!! We’ve got a mobile hospital to set up and we are on the god damn clock here!!”

 Nirren quickly snaps to work barking orders. Dr. Dorn smiles as he enjoys playing with new assistants like they were toys.

 The bridge aboard the Raza

 Captain Decker walks out from his ready room and sits down in the big chair. The turbo lift door slides open with a whoosh and out steps Commander Mitchell. He walks past Captain Decker and stands at the XO console.

 The Captain turns to his Ops Officer. “Lieutenant Cho, please let starbase ops know that we will be getting underway.”

 “Yes sir.” answers Cho.

 “Miss Monroe, please release the mooring clamps and activate the forward maneuvering thrusters. Take us out nice and slow.”

 “Aye Captain.” answers Faye.

 “Mr. Cho please let station command know that we are ready to disembark.”

 “Station command confirms departure and wishes us a safe journey Captain.” replies Cho.

 The Raza drifts clear of the dry dock and is now drifting away from the space station under her own power.

 “Lieutenant Commander Sung how are my warp drives?”

 “As ready as they will ever be sir.” answers A’Ryn.

 “Commander Mitchell, please take us to yellow alert.”

 “Yes sir. Yellow alert, silent running.” orders Commander Mitchell.

 “Mr. Cho, alert the hospital ships ten seconds to warp.”

 “Yes sir.” answers Cho.

 “Lieutenant Monroe, warp eight please. Engage!!” orders the Captain.

 “Yes sir, warp eight!!” Faye engages the warp drives but nothing happens as the other medical ships warp past them on their way to the Romulan neutral zone. She looks stunned as she swings in her chair looking back at the Captain and the Commander. “I’m sorry sir, but we have no power to the Warp drives.”

 Commander Mitchell stands up trying to ease the situation. “Honey, did you remember to plug in the warp core this morning?” The bridge breaks out with a few low laughs.

 “Very funny, Commander!! We blew a coupling in the number one main warp injector. Try it now!!” answers a very irritated A’Ryn Sung. “I told you this was a bad idea without a dry run!!”

 “Thanks honey. We’ll talk about this later over dinner!!” as he waves at Faye. “Let’s go. Go, go, go before she comes up here and puts me in some crazy Klingon death hold!!” Faye swings back around to the control console and punches the controls. Immediately the ship lurches to warp eight speeding off to catch up to the rest of the fleet.

 “Lieutenant Karn, ETA on the Romulan Neutral Zone?” asks the Captain.

 “Six hours sir.” answers Rheyna.

 The Captain taps his com badge. “Captain Decker to Dr. Dorn.”

 “Go ahead sir.” answers the Chief Medical Officer.

 “Doctor you have less than six hours to prepare for the wounded. How we doing down there?”

 “A few more nurses and a lot less bumbling security idiots in my sick bay would be a lot nicer sir.”

 Lieutenant Phos speaks up. “I assure you Doctor Dorn, my Security staff are not idiots. Dr. Dorn, the security team I assigned to….”

 Commander Mitchell cuts in. “Not now Phos. I think the good doctor is a teeny bit stressed out right now. Maybe a wee bit wound too tight.”

 “I heard that Commander!” sounds off an irritated Dr. Dorn.

 Mitchell was going to reply, but Captain Decker waves him off. “Doctor I expect you are doing the best you can under these very stressful circumstances. I cannot wait to see how your team performs under the pressure. Decker out.” and the Captain turns to Phos. “Lieutenant, please let Alpha Flight know that as soon as we come out of warp I want them out there doing sweeps around the fleet. I don’t want any surprises.”

 “Yes sir.” answers Phos. “May I also recommend that the MACO team stand by on the bridge in case the Romulan’s decide to board the Raza?”

 “It’s a little early for that don’t you think? Let’s just wait and see what we are dealing with when we get there.” answers Decker. “In the meantime, I will be in my ready room. Commander Mitchell you have the bridge.”

 “Yes sir.” answers the Commander as he sits in the Captain’s chair.

 As the Captain walks toward his ready room, Yeoman Braun rushes over to him with a stack of data pads for his approval. He quickly waves her off. “Please address Commander Mitchell with any concerns.” and he enters his ready room, the door closing quickly behind him.

 Daisy looks back toward the bridge crew, embarrassed. Commander Mitchell smiles at her trying to lighten the mood. “Come on over here pumpkin.” as he taps his lap a few times. “Let daddy take care of you.” a few chuckles break out across the bridge as Mitchell gets a good laugh at the young Yeoman’s expense.

 Alpha Flights quarters

 After the Dominion War, the Federation saw the need to have fighter craft back up starships in the field. Thus, the creation of Alpha Flight was born. Out of all the pilots in Starfleet Captain Decker handpicked the three individuals that now serve under him. Lieutenant “Mad Dog” Ryder, with twenty-eight confirmed kills during the war. Some say his pilot skills could have him on the flight deck of any Galaxy class starship he wanted. But every time a position aboard a starship comes up, he turns it down. His love for being in a fighter ship keeps pulling him back into the cockpit.

 Lieutenant “Pretty Boy” Bates with over forty confirmed kills. He also was a POW and was imprisoned on Cardassia Prime for the last three months of the war. It was there that he was tortured to the point where he tried to commit suicide on a number of occasions. Unmercifully, the Cardassian doctors kept him alive healing all his physical scars. But it wasn’t the physical scars that worried the Starfleet medical teams. It was the mental scars. The scars that you can’t see deep down inside, but always find a way to rise to the surface at the most inopportune time. It was also there that he met the beautiful Gilora. At the time, she served on the Cardassian-Dominion relations team. Questionable events occurred that led her to be the Lounge Keeper aboard the Raza. Some say that Captain Decker owes a life debt to her.

 Finally rounding the team out is the Flight Leader Lieutenant Jin aka “Rose”. She’s the glue the binds this team together. She is a true leader in all the sense of the word who will one day captain a starship of her own. She always finds a way to center these two men. She always knows the right thing to say to bring Bates back from the edge of insanity when he starts to dance on the edge.

 Bates is pissed as he slams his flight locker door shut and gets right in Mad Dogs face. “I tell you Dog, if those MACO assholes get in my way again I’m going to space their asses. Gilora is my girl!! No ground pounder is going to get in the way between me and my girl!!”

 “Relax man. Gilora has the right to talk to anyone she wants. I think your blowing this out of proportion. Anyway, you heard the Commander. He isn’t taking any more shit from us. And I for one don’t want get busted down to ensign.” remarks Lieutenant Ryder.

 Bates grabs his partner by the flight suit and slams him against the locker. “Don’t be such a loser!! Are you a “Mad Dog” or a god damn “Puppy Dog”?!” barks Bates as spittle goes flying into Ryder’s face.

 “You know I always have your back!! But you need to just chill man. We’ll figure this out. Just calm the hell down.” answers Mad Dog.

 Lieutenant Jin walks into the room. “Is everything ok in here?” she asks.

 “Yeah, fine boss. We’re cool.” answers Bates as he lets his partner go and brushes out his partner’s flight suit.

 “Good. I would hate to clip your wings. I know how hard you each worked to get this assignment. Now let’s do what we do best.”

 Bates grabs his flight helmet and walks out of the room leaving Jin looking at Ryder for an answer.

 “You would tell me if he’s messed up in the head again, wouldn’t you?” asks Jin.

 Ryder tries to bluff his way out of this, but he’s not doing a very good job.  “He’s just been through a lot you know.” but Jin rolls her eyes at him. “He’s cool. He just needs time to calm down. If he crosses the line you’ll be the first person I’ll tell.” answers Ryder as he grabs his helmet and walks out of the locker room.

 Tarod IX, Captains Log Stardate 63231.819

 The Raza has been in orbit around Tarod IX for the past six days. The crew aboard the Raza has performed admirably in a very tense situation considering everything and Starfleet Command seems to be very pleased with our results. The three hospital ships have helped thousands of Romulan civilians who have crossed over the Neutral Zone asking for aid. Over the past two days we have seen a steady decline in Romulan ships asking for aid and I am afraid our time here is coming to an end. I for one cannot wait to see what other adventures await us.

The Captain is interrupted in mid-thought as his communicator chimes. “Bridge to Captain Decker.”

 “Go ahead.” responds the captain as he puts his data pad down on his desk.

 “Sir, Lieutenant Karn here. You were asked to be notified if we detected anything out of the ordinary. Sir, I have something that you need to see.”

 “I’ll be right there.”

 The Captain exits his ready room and walks out onto his bridge. At least a dozen Starfleet officers are scrambling around the bridge doing their many jobs assigned to them. As he makes his way to the Lieutenant Karn’s station he notices two fully armed MACO’s standing guard at the door to the turbo lift. He will never get used to this. It’s been years since Starfleet assigned Marines to their starships. He stops at Rheyna’s station and puts his hand on the back of her chair leaning over the female Cardassians’ shoulder getting a better look at her console.

 “What do we have Lieutenant?” asks the captain.

 “Sir, I am getting some strange EM spikes dead ahead of us.” she continues to tap on the panel trying to zero in on what she’s seeing.

 Decker straightens up thinking hard and then it comes to him. A worried looked comes across his face and he hurries toward his command chair. He begins to bark orders. “Commander Mitchell battle stations!!”

 Without thinking twice Mitchell reacts. “All stations red alert!!” and the sound of the red alert warning can be heard blaring across the ship along with the annoying red light beaming across all the decks.

 “Lieutenant Phos shields up and arm forward phasers!!” snaps the captain as he sits down in the command chair.

 “Shields at full and all forward phasers armed.” answers Phos.

 “Alert Alpha Squad!!  I want them on point NOW!!!” barks Decker.

 “Alpha Flight confirmed sir. They will be on point in less than ten seconds sir.” replies Phos.

 The bridge is now in a very tense scene. Everyone is seen rushing about getting to their battle stations focusing on their jobs at hand. Commander Mitchell walks up to the captain looking down at him. Mitchell sees the intense look in his captain’s eyes.

 “Captain, what is it?” asks Mitchell.

 Decker puts his hand up with one finger pointing in the air. “Patience James, they know we see her.”

 “They sir? What…” as Commander Mitchell gets cut off by Lieutenant Karn.

 “Sir…it’s there!!” states Rheyna as she gets up out of her chair and points at the forward view screen with a horrific look on her face.

 The forward view screen lights up as a massive D’deridex Class starship uncloaks in-front of them. Mitchell looks up in awe knowing that the Raza is only a fraction of the size of that Romulan war beast bearing down on them!!

 “Holy shit!!!” exclaims the commander as the entire bridge crew is frozen staring down the barrel of this giant Warbird!!

 To be continued…

[thedramafilesblog-blog]

Appearing before The Dramacourt: While You Were Sleeping Eps 3 and 4

***If this is your first time browsing The Drama Files, please read The Rules section first for our reviewing and rating system***

***Disclaimer***: This analysis based on Canadian law. This is also NOT LEGAL ADVICE for anyone and this drama is FICTIONAL.

Issues:

Whether there is some serious meta going on in these episodes.

Whether Jae Chan’s rationale for not wanting to believe Hong Joo’s ability to see the future is logical.

Whether a defense lawyer can force a prosecutor to go with a lesser charge.

Whether there is a distinction between Injury and Assault.

Whether defense lawyers can fudge medical reports and “get rid” of evidence.

Whether this episode highlights some of the issues faced by victims of domestic violence.

Whether it is acceptable to have workplace religious practices.

The Rule(s):

Totally. And even in this version, poor Shin Jae Ha doesn’t seem to be getting the girl.

Yes. It is logical.

No. That’s not really how prosecution works.

In Canadian law, the distinction is between Battery and Assault.

No. This means you have violated your ethical and professional responsibility as a lawyer and that you should be disbarred at the very least.

Absolutely. Battered Women’s Syndrome is a very real thing.

No. Unless your workplace by definition is some religious thing.

Analysis:

RedRosette J: This episode had a lot going on and we have a lot to talk about but first thing is first: Suzy. Honey. Take an acting class. Your acting has not improved since Dream High. Seriously. I’m honestly having trouble connecting with this character. (Also, my bad, I thought this drama was about people seeing visions of future deaths, but Jubiemon corrected me. It’s about people seeing visions of the future). I don’t understand her quirky/perky obnoxious Candy vibe. I really really wanted a more nuanced character. Someone with some depth and feeling and emotion that is more than just forced fake crying. Seriously. I also don’t really feel, at this point, a connection between Lee Jong Suk and Suzy. Sorry guys. It falls flat for me. If the super obnoxious OST and the intense close ups weren’t there to shove it in my face that this was supposed to be some fated love story, I wouldn’t buy it. Sorry.

Jubiemon J: I found this episode to still be a good setup for what’s to come. However, I do have a few areas that I didn’t quite enjoy so much. I also don’t like the character type they’ve set out for Suzy. This character doesn’t suit her and she hasn’t been able to fit well with this quirky character. (This is an aside but if you want to see a quirky personality, go look at one of the clips of “I Live Alone” with Sunghoon. He’s definitely 4D in a cool way.) Aside from her, though, I also felt like Jae Chan’s younger brother looks far too old to be a high school student. (Sorry pal.) I wished that they had placed him as a university student instead.

Having trouble finding the chemistry guys

Developing crushes like…

Serious talk

Being lowkey creepy

Cool art though

Being creepy on the subway like…

RedRosette J: On other notes, Lee Sang Yeob is doing a fabulous job as a sleazeball lawyer Yoo Bom who you just have to hate. He’s so irritating to watch and makes you want to just be like ugh stop. Which is great because that’s the character. The introduction of the second female lead (the prosecutor woman) also fell a bit flat for me. I don’t know anything about the actress but there was nothing really special about her introduction.

Jubiemon J: I agree so much! Lee Sang Yeob has been great as the evil criminal defense lawyer. I get so irritated when I see him! I kind of wish that Jae Chan was less upfront about things and had more EQ, but I guess that’s part of his journey of learning to act smarter and it does make a good contrast between Yoo Bum’s and Jae Chan’s personalities.

Oh my goodness! I completely treated the 2nd female lead as a minor, minor side character. My bad.

Don’t be fooled by this face

Did nothing for the plot

Breaking up with a piece of shit guy like…

RedRosette J: I also keep loving the interactions between the two brothers  and I’m curious to see how Jae Chan and Hong Joo stop Seung Won’s (yes, that is Shin Jae Ha’s character’s name. I knew there had to be reason why we weren’t told his name thus far!) impending fact. I am also curious to see how fate ties up loose ends in terms of the policeman who didn’t die (It’s all very Final Destination-ish). The side characters in the office are really awesome and I really really hope they don’t under utilize these actors who have so much potential for comedy.

When you really don’t want to wake up for work

Breakfast with the fam

When your sketch neighbour tries to be BFFs

You’re cute too. Who are you?

Sassing your boss like…

Spreading office gossip like…

Hearing office gossip like…

RedRosette J: I continue to really really like the plot though and the way it is written. I like that the writers don’t infantilize the viewers and keep the information going consistently. I really liked that Hong Joo’s past warnings to her dad and her backstory was being shown concurrently with the events of the present and Jae Chan’s future visions. It means that your brain is actively working while watching trying to figure out how the pieces fit. It’s been awhile since a drama has been able to do that for me, so I really appreciate that. One thing I’m not too excited about is the childhood trope. Really? You had to use the classic “they met when they were kids at a funeral home” trope to derive the future dream connection? Ehhh….I hope the writers sell me on a stellar reason for why they did this or I’m going to be super disappointed.

Jubiemon J: I did like the flashbacks mixed with Jae Chan’s dreams too. That was an interesting approach. I totally agree about that . . . fated to meet someone since childhood . . . Overused. Honestly I haven’t heard of any stories in my life where someone realized that he or she met his/her partner a long, long time ago. The most would be something like . . . oh they have some random mutual friend.

Issue 1: Whether there is some serious meta going on in these episodes

RedRosette J: I have two words for you guys: Page Turner. OMG. Kim So Hyun as an angry pianist and Shin Jae Ha with a closeted crush on her? Really guys? You’re going to do this to us again? Last time, Ji Soo got the girl, this time, I think external forces (and the fact that Kim So Hyun is only doing this as a special appearance) is going to keep poor Shin Jae Ha from getting the girl. I’m so not cool with this. He’s such a cutie patootie. Like total puppy vibes. Please let him have the girl. But real talk: this story line, although we could do with less of Kim So Hyun yelling at poor Shin Jae Ha because well, see above sentence. But either way, the meta was real folks.

Jubiemon J: I’m honestly tired of the angsty kid. Sure, I understand that you’re super frustrated about your family’s situation, but do you have to push away the nicest guy ever? Kim So Hyun’s character was just super rude here . . . It reminded me of Mean Girls. Twisted Regina George vibes with some crazy fam stuff going on.

RedRosette J Aside: For those of you who haven’t seen Page Turner, go watch it right now. Its three episodes of cuteness that you won’t regret. 

I still doubt he gets her

Issue 2: Whether Jae Chan’s rationale for not wanting to believe Hong Joo’s ability to see the future is logical

RedRosette J: I think what Jae Chan was saying to Hong Joo was totally rational and totally logical. Jae Chan says he doesn’t want to believe her even if it’s true because that means he will have to save everyone and when he cant he will be super torn up about it and he doesn’t think that he can handle it. I think it is totally reasonable to refuse to take on a responsibility that you are sure that you can’t handle. I think it’s irresponsible to take on something and then fall apart when you can’t do it. So yes, I agree with his line of reasoning. Whether this works out in practice and reality is a different story.

Jubiemon J: I actually felt kind of annoyed that he was being a hypocrite. He did save her . . . so why wouldn’t he believe in her ability to see the future? I felt like his reasoning was poor because he just didn’t have the guts to face the guilt or the courage to try to change anything. However, he did have the guts to save Hong Joo so . . . what is this sudden turn of events? I didn’t like it. I’m in the camp of . . . if you’re being given responsibility, you just take it and do it. It’s just like at work. You still have to do the stuff you’re assigned even if you don’t like the work. I also see this as a scenario of a doctor. If the patient comes to see you with some illness, you don’t just ignore and turn them away. You try to find a cure even if you know it might be futile.

Trying to rationalize things

When you’re irrational and you know it

Poor Seung Won!

Issue 3: Whether a defense lawyer can force a prosecutor to go with a lesser charge

RedRosette J:  Uhhhh no…..that’s not really how it works. A defense lawyer can’t just walk into the prosecutor’s office and be like “oh yea btw, these are medical records which show assault, so go with an assault charge….” No. The prosecution works independent of the defense lawyers. The only time they are in contact with each other is during pre-trial conferences and to request disclosure (the documents that the prosecution has against the person being charged). It is a gross miscarriage of justice if the defense gets to walk in and make demands about what charges to lay on a suspect. That’s not how the law works and I’m pretty sure that regardless of whether it’s Canada or anywhere else, that’s how it’s supposed to work. Of course, reality could be very different when you taking into consideration things like corruption and bribery etc.

Nope. Not how it works.

Issue 4:  Whether there is a distinction between Injury and Assault

RedRosette J: In Canada, there is a distinction between something called Battery and Assault. Assault generally deals with the threat of force and the person looking to act on it. Battery is when the victim actually sustains physical injuries from said violent threat. I think what might have happened here is that it probably got lost in translation and when they said “Injury” it probably translates to Battery or the equivalent of that. Kim So Hyun’s character raises an interesting point, where she says that in the case of assault,  charges are laid only if the victim agrees to press said charges. This would explain why Yoo Bom was trying to get the lesser assault charge which would mean that they could coerce the victim into not pressing charges. But generally, there is a distinction and there weren’t wrong in clarifying that.

Jubiemon J: What Redrosette said is in regards to the area of torts. In Canada, battery falls under the area of torts, which is civil law. If that were the case, then prosecutors would not be involved. It’d be the mom vs the dad and damages could be awarded. Also, battery is easier to fulfil than you would think–just has to be intentional, harmful/offensive, direct, force/contact of a person/body/purse of another. I remember our professor saying that even if you touch someone’s shoulder, that could potentially be battery.

Canada’s Criminal Code doesn’t list battery as a crime. Instead, the Code has an offense of assault and assault causing bodily harm. Canada’s Criminal Code lists here what assault would be:

265(1) A person commits an assault when

(a) without the consent of another person, he applies force intentionally to that other person, directly or indirectly;

(b) he attempts or threatens, by an act or a gesture, to apply force to another person, if he has, or causes that other person to believe on reasonable grounds that he has, present ability to effect his purpose; or

(c) while openly wearing or carrying a weapon or an imitation thereof, he accosts or impedes another person or begs.

Different countries characterize their charges differently, so in the US, there is criminal battery. I did a quick look at the South Korean Penal Code and I think this would be one of the potential charges that the dad could face.

CHAPTER XXV CRIMES OF INFLICTING BODILY INJURY AND VIOLENCE

Article 257 (Inflicting Bodily Injury on Other or on Lineal Ascendant) (1) A person who inflicts a bodily injury upon another shall be punished by imprisonment for not more than seven years or suspension of qualifications for not more than ten years or by a fine not exceeding ten million won. (2) When the crime as referred in paragraph (1) is committed on a lineal ascendant of the offender or of his spouse, one shall be punished by imprisonment for not more than ten years or a fine not exceeding fifteen million won. (3) Attempts to commit the crimes of the preceding two paragraphs shall be punished.

Pretty sure this is Battery at this point

Issue 5: Whether defense lawyers can fudge medical reports and “get rid” of evidence.

RedRosette J: Uhhh…..MOST DEFINITELY NOT. That is not a defense lawyer’s job. You don’t “clean up your client’s messes” in that way. This would be a blatant violation of the rules of professional conduct and the ethics of being a lawyer. It could effectively mean being disbarred and even prosecution and jail time. Defense lawyers exist to ensure that everyone has access to the law and to make sure that accused persons are given a fair right to be heard having access to all the information and rules pertaining to their case. This is a far cry from a defense lawyer who goes and commits more crimes to get their client out of jail. WTF. No.

Jubiemon J: No! He also used to be a prosecutor too and from Jae Chan’s comments, he was already acting dirty back then. I remember glancing at the Penal Code for South Korea and there was a section for charges against corrupt public officials, so . . .

You could be disbarred bro

Issue 6: Whether this episode highlights some of the issues faced by victims of domestic violence

RedRosette J: I think we discussed this in a previous review too, but yes, this episode highlights some crucial things about victims of domestic violence. It is usually categorized as Battered Women’s Syndrome where the women are too afraid of the abuse to leave or stand up to the abuser. It’s a form of physical and psychological abuse. Kim So Hyun’s character says that her mother is more afraid of her dad than the law when the scene shows the mother agreeing to drop the charges against the husband. I think it’s important to realize that domestic violence is a very real and live issue and that it’s a good thing that dramas highlight these things.

Fear is a very real thing

Issue 7: Whether it is acceptable to have workplace religious practices

RedRosette J: Generally, workplaces should be secular so as not to alienate or exclude co-workers. I’m not really a proponent of religion in the workplace or anywhere involving communal stuff because I think that religion is deeply personal and should be observed in your own time. However, it makes a difference, if your workplace be definition is a religious place or organization or community. If everyone has the ability to participate that is fine, in my view. In this case, Jae Chan, not having a religion, was isolated from his co-workers who were praying at lunch. If one does have a religious requirement that has to be carried out in a communal place, it should then be done with respect to those who don’t and not in such blatantly alienating ways. So, in general, I don’t think that workplaces should have religious practices.

Jubiemon J: I also don’t think workplaces should force people to have religious practices, but I do remember that in South Korea, many citizens are Christians. Then again, I doubt that’d mean that religious practices would be obligatory at work. Somehow I’m reminded of that Canadian case regarding a Charter right and how there was some praying that would always happen before this meeting and there was a Charter violation (I think–putting that there b/c the Charter is definitely one of my weaker areas in law…).

Not cool.

Conclusion: Appeal Allowed.

Rating: 3 = MM. Okay. Fine. (Suzy please get some acting tips and step up your game girl)

File No: While-You-Were-Sleeping-EPS-3&4 Appearing before The Dramacourt: While You Were Sleeping Eps 3 and 4 ***If this is your first time browsing The Drama Files, please read 

[cometladyicarus-blog]

Alliance and Hierarchy pt.1

This is a Mass effect fanfic Idea I’d been playing with and I’m actually going to post the first two parts of because I think they’re just about as good as I can make it at this time. XD

Sibling Shepards, and I freely admit to making things up to fill in the gaps that I personally don’t know, so if that mismatches the official information on the background stuff, uh... Let me know, but handwave it all away as Lady Icarus making things up. Yeah.

This Jane Shepard is in fact the same one that I’ve got a (still) incomplete work on [here], so she is not going to be The Shepard (with a capital T in the article). But she is a Spacer/Sole Survivor Shepard, so Akuze brings issues.

Part 1

Part 2

3 June 2177

Akuze Colony Approach

04:38 Local Time

22:54 4 June 2177 Earth Time

"God damn!” Must have hit another sinkhole - how did anything stay on the surface with that much air under them? Her CO was still barking at her, pay attention. “Shepard, never drive a Grizzly again. Man the gun. Toombs! How’s your driving?"

“Good enough to pass!”

Jane shrugged and did as she was told, trading places with the Corporal. "Sorry, Boss, they didn't teach driving in field-tech school. Just how to fix'em."

She earned the light hearted laughter when the Odette called in. "Odette to Away teams, you're getting close to the beacon. We don't see the ship, nor the colony, but keep an eye out for the crew and civilians, over."

"Away to Odette, we copy that." The Commander flashed a grin over his shoulder. "Use your technical skills to find the ship, colonists, or crew, Lieutenant Shepard. Sending out the orders to the rest of our poor S-O-Bs who came with us."

“Yeah, yeah, on it, boss-man.”

"Atta girl. You owe us a round when we get shipside for your shitty driv- Toombs! Watch that mountain cliff! Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, did any of you learn to drive properly? Since when were these vehicles supposed to drive vertically?"

Jane grinned and tapped a few buttons on the Grizzly's cannon. Point three-oh-four percent power increase.

"LT, I'll pass on the drink if you'll just teach me how to make a gun stated to be performing at its best even better."

She started to laugh. And then stopped. "I see the beacon. Small camp around it. Ship must have crashed into or too close to the mountains, the colony’s not supposed to be that way either."

"Which way?"

"Three-thirty for the ship, Commander. The colony should be at about eleven-thirty. Unless I got North mixed up again."

“Spacers. Can’t tell North from East, but they can make a top-performing canon even better than it’s supposed to be.”

“Shut up, Rain.” She grinned to let their medic know she wasn’t serious.

The Grizzly turned and she adjusted to line back with the beacon. Toombs had apparently left the driving to someone else.

"Wonder how many survived?"

"Three structures, broken down Mako, one badly broken Grizzly that looks like it's been here a long time. Structures likely have lavatory, kitchen, showers. Can hold up to five comfortably each, but can hold three times that. Five, three, fifteen. Forty five about highest to expect. None at lowest. Must have been set here for a couple of weeks now."

"Shepard, I don't want to know how you calculated all that for the space."

"Spacer kid, it was a game John and I would play based on the size and class of a ship."

"I just said I didn't want to know."

"Check the comms, anyone on chatter?"

Toombs called out. "No. Just the beacon."

"Alright. Rain, stop the Grizzly at the edge of camp. If anyone's there, we don't want to be seen as a threat."

"On it."

"Shepard, status."

"No movement. No lights." She waited as the vehicle slowed before setting the sights to zoom in. "Wait! I see a couple bodies. Scientists. Think I saw one move. I think. Might have been us moving."

"Let's load out and look for ourselves."

She really didn’t want to, not after improving the canon, but more people out there meat the faster they could find the missing colonists.

They left the vehicle and looked around. Jane examined the beacon for news, cursing when the beacon's VI turned out to be damaged in an odd way.  The beacon worked, but it was also running a secondary signal, and the termination sequence couldn’t be completed considering the button was missing and in fact covered by solid metal. Cheap equipment, she frowned at the thought.

The other members of their team drove up and disembarked as well to join the search.

The ground shook.

"Alright, who stayed on their bear?"

The full team sounded off as being in the camp.

Second Lieutenant Araina “Rain” Sunny pulled out her medical field kit and started checking over the bodies.

"Sir, I think this was a trap. These bodies are torn-” The ground quaked as a … giant worm thing screamed to look down on the puny mortal humans. Not a worm. The Citadel reports had these things as- “Thresher maw! Shit! Into the M29! Go, go!" The great beast spat toxic ooze over the team medic as she screamed warnings.

"Damn it, Rain!"

Jane climbed over the cannon of the vehicle and popped the top open to drop down, eyeballing for the cannon's target. "Give me a rocket!" The Maw dropped below the ground as a head count was made.

"Damn, we lost four."

"And no more-" Jane was cut off as the vehicle was thrown into the air, she looked above her and saw the Akuze surface. "Shit. Missile!"

"In, Shep."

She fired the damn-fucking rocket and blasted bullets as they fell, turret first.

"Noo!" Screams echoed into her comms as four tons landed. Her hands stretched from her face. She kicked with one leg, but the other didn't respond. Her throat was raw. Maybe the screams were hers.

"Odette!--" Toombs, he screamed as the Thresher Maw dropped back into its hole, and his voice had an echo to it.

"Shepard here. Headcount? Fire your blaster into the sky if your mic's down." Nothing.

"--ette to ground team. Come in, ground team."

She tapped her helmet. "Shepard to Odette. Beacon was a trap or something. Thresher Maw attacked. I can't move one of my legs very well. I repeat, Thresher Maw attacked. I-I don't know what happened. I can't get up, or look around very well. Working my way out."

She repeated most of the message several times as she crawled out from under the Grizzly and made her way for the jungle. Out of open space where the Maw would attack. No fucking wonder there were sinkholes everywhere.

"Shepard! Odette here. We have your signal, and we're coming in."

"Thank-" She wasn't sure she finished when she passed out.

She was all that survived of the original ground team. The bodies of a lot of her people, and the original people to be rescued, couldn't be found and the rest were declared KIA. Her claims of Akuze being a trap were dismissed by the brass.

She couldn't feel one leg. The Grizzly cut and destroyed what remained of it. It was a clean amputation, messy with the infections that left her in surgery under the levo equivalent of Quarian-strength antibiotics. They had to cut the rest of the femur out, even the joint because of the toxins, infection, and bone rot.

"Fuck."

"Lieutenant Shepard."

She almost glared until she realized it was the Odette's captain. The reflexive salute was all she could do in-protocol. "Sir, I'd stand, but..."

"No, stay seated. How do you feel?"

"Angry. I know Rain wouldn't lie. She said it was a trap, I believe what she said. The beacon was weird too."

"The top's refusing to listen, I'm sorry. I believe you. We saw the recordings. You're getting the best cybernetic leg we can find, even if it means going to the Council for it."

Jane looked at the bandage on her hip. There wasn't even much of a stump anymore, just the ball joint left that was scheduled to be removed in a few hours. "Sir, I can't afford--"

"The Alliance is paying, and for the therapy too."

She glared. "To keep my mouth shut?"

"No. To prep you for N7 training. Staff Lieutenant Jane Shepard, as the last officer in command before the last of your team was lost, you’ve been field promoted to Lieutenant Commander. Your quick reactions, even when falling upside down impressed the brass to bump you into N7."

"I'm being rewarded for failing my team?" She shook her head. "That's... Fu-Messed up. And I know messed up."

"Yeah. I can imagine how you feel."

A small suspicious part of her noticed that something was up. "What is really going on?"

"I don't know. Your recovery will be slow, but they'll be starting the book training before the physical part when you return from medical leave."

Jane closed her eyes as she felt a pair of boxes be placed in her hands. "Fuck."

"My condolences, Shepard. Commander Trapper was my friend, too."

"Thank you, sir." The doctor shooed her guest away and pushed the button to inject the sleep agent again.

“You’re a strong, brave, woman, Shepard.”

Her leg hurt where it used to be, and she didn’t do anything very brave.

Name: Jane Shepard Age: 22 [As of 4 June 2177] Current Rank and Two-Character Vocational Code: N6 [passed to be N7] Lieutenant Commander [Field promotion, sole ranked officer left surviving and in command, recording of at least on person of lower rank than she when Commander Trapper and Lieutenant Commander Heath perished] Notes: Younger sister of John Shepard and the daughter of Hannah Shepard. Born on the SSV Elizabeth. High scores on practice tests that have not been submitted, but appears to self-sabotage certain tests to avoid something. May have psychological issues regarding what she calls "the Shepard Legacy" and highly protective parents. Took up N-training, possibly to escape rumors of nepotism from other Naval officers. Was N-classed before her older brother. Updated Notes: Older brother was the Hero of Elysium. Updated Notes: Sole official survivor of a Thresher Maw attack on Akuze. Promoted to Commander and N7. Artificial leg as a result of the attack. Uncertain psychological profile changes to come. Alert appropriate Cerberus Cells to upgrade defenses in case Shepard decides to follow through with her warnings of investigating the beacon and attack. Update: Thresher Maw toxin results in a higher tolerance and requirements for achieving the effects of drugs and alcohol. Observe Jane Shepard for signs of substance abuse.

A lit cigarette was lifted to the mouth of a shadowy figure. A woman became visible, walking to him as they observed a blue giant be devoured by its denser neighboring star.

"Miranda, report." The smoking person was male.

"The Alliance is uncertain about suggesting Shepard for active duty, even with the Captain of the Odette vouching for her mental health. While he was not acting under any of Cerberus' direct suggestions, I recommend putting his proposal through."

The other sighed and lowered the cigarette. "Jane Shepard is one of many candidates for Humanity's first Spectre. We have others."

Miranda lowered her head for a moment. "Then why put the investment into her replacement leg?"

"She didn't do much of anything spectacular in order to survive the Thresher Maw."

"Then why the leg?"

"She survived. I want to see what she will do now."

"Have her put into active duty. On Earth, she under constant Alliance watch, and wary of being locked away into a mental health facility. Or she would be, based on her previous psychological profile."

"An interesting thought."

Miranda's eyebrow twitched.

The man's silhouette hinted at a smile. "It is good to see you are concerned about all of our candidates."

"Yes, the other was not showing nearly as well as Shepard siblings. On Torfun, the Butcher was not our other candidate either, but two people we had not considered. It is a shame the Akuze Rescue turned into a disaster before Shepard even arrived."

"Report received."

"Thank you." Miranda disappeared.

The man hit a few buttons. "I explicitly said not to use Akuze, doctor."

"I'm so sorry. The signal was jumbled."

"You will be punished for your failure. But not today." He ended the call before looking at the stars around him. The Thresher Maw project had some prospect survivors who might revenge. "Or the younger Shepard will."

"It is fitting that Shepard, our most scarred mentally and physically candidate, be a Spectre. Too bad she will now be unpredictable after finding the truth about Akuze. If not her, then her brother will be a Spectre. But he will also be unpredictable after learning the truth, liable to seeking revenge for what had been done to her personally or through the justice system." He lowered his hand to tap off the burnt ashes of the stick. Taking in a slow drag he spoke again. "I will need to adjust our plans regardless."

There was only a slight, but low-ranged sound, creak of machinery to respond to him.