#jared nightingale

[thetimelordbatgirl]

OC Halloween Challenge 2023 Random/Themeless Day Two: Lights, Camera, Action!

The characters of The Adventures Of Bannerman Road on twitter and reacting to the British Museum thefts. OC's in tweets include: *Phoebe Smith: Brainbox (girlintheattic). *Abigail Boyes-Watson: Silver Bullet's Sidekick (girlacrosstheworld). *Jared Nightingale: 0 Days Since Last Alien Nonsense (StrugglingFilmmaker).

[ephixltes]

nightingale teach her how to read !!!!!!

"... I've been trying. It's an ongoing process. ... She's doing her best, I suppose."

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Nightingale Chapter Seventeen - All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Seventeen: All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Word Count: 5279

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing! Author's Additional Notes: This is it. The last chapter. The Conclusion to my story! (There will be an epilogue to follow) I started this over a year and a half ago, and here we are, finished!! There were plenty of times I wondered if I'd ever get there. But with the steadfast encouragement of all of you, I found the inspiration and the drive. Thank all of you who read this and showered me with love. I am forever grateful!

Masterlist

Nightingale Masterlist

     Jensen checked his watch again while he tapped his fingers against his leg trying to rid himself of the anxious energy.  You’d been in the restroom for fifteen minutes and while women tended to take longer in the bathroom, it was unusual for you.  Other girls had come and gone in that time, and he was beginning to worry.  Deciding to hell with it, he knocked loudly to announce himself and entered.

     “Y/N?  Sweetheart?  The play is starting…”

     The room was empty and something about the eerie silence sent an ominous chill down his spine.  Not a trace of you anywhere, as if you’d evaporated into thin air!  Desperate, he pushed open the stall doors and last one revealed a woman crumpled against the wall.  He recognized the scuffed sneakers as your favorites and the denim jacket with the frayed sleeves.  And the fall of golden hair.

     Frantic, he dropped to his knees, “Y/N!  Baby?!” 

     He grabbed hold of your shoulder and pulled.  Your head rolled back and revealed a deeply slit throat and a stranger’s face.

     Dead.  He could tell it at a glance, but it wasn’t you!  The poor soul had been dressed in your clothes and a very convincing blonde wig. 

     “Shit!”  Jensen scrambled to his feet and burst out of the room.  He frantically searched the crowd of people while dialing his emergency number.

      “Solomon.”

      “She’s gone!  She’s gone, you son of a bitch!  You said she was safe!”

     “We show Y/N in the ladies’ room on the east end of the pavilion.” 

      “Her clothes are there along with a fucking dead body!  He’s got her!  Fuck!”

      “Stay where you are,” the agent barked through the phone while people shuffled in the background. 

      He took off at a jog, trying to scan the faces for yours, “Like hell I will!”

      “That’s an order, Ackles!  I need details, not another missing person.  I have agents converging on your location.”

      Jensen ended the call and tried your number.  It rang several times then went to voicemail.  “Sweetheart, if you get this, just hang on.  I’m coming.  I swear to God… I’m coming to get you.”

       Consciousness came to you in fragments.  Different parts of your body were numb.  There was a pins and needles feeling that came with having been in one position for too long.  Your eyes felt dry and raw, although you hadn’t opened them yet.  Your throat felt the same and there was a really unpleasant smell coming from somewhere.  An artificial and over-powering cherry scent mixed with sour sweat.  Suddenly, your whole frame was jolted, and the side of your head connected with something cold and hard.  It was enough to pull you out of the semi-conscious daze you’d been in, your eyes popped open as your head bounced off the passenger side window. 

     You sat more upright with a groan and rubbed your head, “What…?”

     This wasn’t Jensen’s car.  The dashboard was faded blue and cracked from the sun.  An ancient radio with silver knobs played an old song from the sixties.  The cardboard cherry air freshener swinging from the rearview was at least partly to blame for the oppressive stench.  The man in the driver’s seat was to blame for the rest.

     “Pharmaceuticals have come such a long way, haven’t they?  That little trip was courtesy of a new and very effective benzodiazepine.  Administered through absorption through the skin.  Remarkable.  It’s hung up in clinical trials, but those of us with connections can still have our fun.”

     Your gaze slid to the man behind the wheel and your stomach knotted.  Now that he had his glasses on and his hair was brushed back from his face, he looked much like he did back in New York.  Large, hawk-like nose.  Sharp cheekbones, eyebrows like dark slashes over nearly black eyes. 

     “Of course, the best part is that although you looked like a drunk sorority girl, you were still wide awake inside,” his lips pulled into a disturbing grin.  “Hate for you to miss out.”

     He was right.  You’d been awake while he and that girl stripped you naked and dressed you in her clothes.  You’d been useless to fight them as they pulled a wig down on your head.  You were trapped in your own body, only able to witness the horror has he killed her right in front of you.  In your mind, you screamed while he seamlessly ushered you past Jensen and into the crowd.  Right under the noses of the undercover agents who were meant to protect you. 

     You forced your mind to focus.  Agent Solomon had gone over countless scenarios with you, and this was one of them.  You quickly took inventory and noted that every scrap of clothing had been removed or replaced.  Your tracking monitor, your cell phone, your pepper spray and pocketknife.  Anything that might have been useful was long gone. 

     Except the blue paisley tie Jensen wrapped around your wrist.  You could still feel the cool silk against your skin.  Your tether to him and a reminder that you still had access to one thing that might help you.  The fourth wall.  The stage was set, and this was just another part to play.  If you gave a convincing enough performance, you might just come out of this alive.

     “Where are you taking me?” you asked as you pulled the frayed seatbelt over your shoulder and secured it.

     “Tsk, Tsk!  Telling would ruin the surprise, and you know how much I love a good surprise.”

     You scanned the scenery whizzing past and found it unfamiliar.  A two-lane road cut through thick woodland as the sun began to set.  No signs other than the occasional mile marker and warnings about rockslides.  Your ears popped, confirming you were headed to higher elevation and farther away from civilization.

      Show time.

     “Why haven’t you killed me?”  You ripped the auburn-colored wig from your head and tossed it to the floor. 

     “Do you want me to?” he returned, patting the handgun in his lap.

     Panic tried to rise like bile in your throat.  You pushed it down and snatched the half full pack of cigarettes from the dash. 

     “What I want is to wake up safe at home with a beer and left-over pizza in the fridge, but we don’t always get what we want.”

     “Beer and pizza,” Arthur repeated with a scoff.  “Sophistication never was your strong suit, Y/N.  One of Colin’s many grievances about you.”

     “What I lacked in sophistication, I made up for in eagerness.”  You lit a cigarette and took a long drag, “I certainly never heard any complaints about that.”

     “Slut.  Useless whore.  No wonder you shacked up with a Hollywood scumbag like Ackles.  You probably fuck him for a weekly allowance.”  His fingers tightened around the wheel as he spoke, “Colin deserved so much better than you.”

     “Someone like you, I suppose.”  You barked out a laugh as Green turned red from the neck up, “Jesus, you’re not still carrying a torch for a dead man, are you?  That’s pathetic, Artie.  It really is.  You know he just kept you around out of pity.  Poor little Artie from the block…”

     He backhanded you right across the mouth.  Your lip split and you tasted blood.

     “Shut up!  Just shut your whore mouth!”  He grabbed your hair and bashed your head against the window, making you groan and slump in your seat.  Your vison went hazy, but you kept conscious.

     “You conniving bitch… you had to go to the feds!  If it wasn’t for that I’d have killed you quick and been done with it.  One last loose end… but not now.  Now, I get creative.  I’ll start with your little boy toy; carve his pretty face up so not even his own mother will recognize him.  Your bestie with those cute kids?  I’ll strangle her to death while they watch.”

     You didn’t say anything, waiting him out as he raged on, “Oh!  But what about your baby sister?  Frankie.  Well, let’s just say she’ll wish she’d died in that car wreck by the time I get through with her.”

     With Arthur’s rage distracting him, you saw your opening and you took it.  The cigarette was still clenched in your fist.  Your hand shot out and you crushed the glowing cherry into his face.  It sizzled and he screamed.

     He howled in pain, and you grabbed the wheel, yanking it with all your might!  The two of you fought for control and sent the truck into a spin.  The back end fishtailed, and the tires squealed.  The world went topsy turvy around you as the truck went careening off the road with a deafening crash.  Then, silence.

     “Black SUV, headed east on Market.  That’s the last we see of it until it popped up abandoned in the Whole Foods parking lot.”

     “We got the video from them?”

     “Nada.  Their surveillance system went down last week.”

     “Safe bet that was our perp.  Get the last recordings they have in the database, let’s see if Green shows his face.”

      “SUV registered to Mrs. Barbara Perkins, deceased.”

     “Naturally.  Get a trace on that name, address, bank accounts, the works.”

      Jensen had never felt more useless in his life.  While the FBI agents bustled around their make-shift headquarters, he was sitting in an office chair.  Waiting.  There was literally nothing else he could do.  They already knew what Green looked like, even disguised as a fangirl.  The pics of Jensen signing autographs went live on social media almost instantaneously.  There were all sorts of video surveillance of him walking around the park and walking a stumbling girl through the parking lot.  It was as if he was showing off.  Flaunting his deeds to the authorities who were oblivious to it all.

      Jensen felt sick at the thought of how close you were.  Green had walked you right by him and he didn’t even know it!  His mind kept going to the dead woman wearing your clothes.  Blood everywhere.  Running like a river from her slit throat.  It could have so easily been you.  It still could, and that thought chilled him to the bone.

     The video was good for one thing though, it confirmed that you had been very much alive when you left with him.  Jensen was holding on to that fact like a lifeline!  You were smart and you were a fighter.  You’d come back, you had to.  He had a whole life planned out and every day of it included you.  Marriage.  Children.  Big family Christmases.  Quiet date nights.  He even planned a proposal in Paris.  You told him you always wanted to go and making your dreams come true had become an obsession for him.  Nothing made him happy like making you happy.  His life wasn’t his own, it was forever intertwined with yours. 

      In the immortal words of his alter-ego, “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.”

      When his phone rang, his heart nearly stopped.  He didn’t recognize the number, but knew it was you.  “Y/N?!”

     “Jensen!  Oh God…!”

      Agent Solomon was on him instantly to hand the phone over, he refused.  But he did put it on speaker.  “Sweetheart, where are you?  Are you okay?!”

     The connection was tenuous, making your voice fade in and out. 

     “I’m okay… not… don’t know…. Arthur crashed…”

     “Crashed?!  What happened?”

      Solomon grabbed the phone, “Doctor West, are you with Green right now?”

     “No.  We crashed…. Left…”

     “Was he alive when you saw him last?”

     “…. Unconscious… don’t…. “

      “What kind of vehicle was he driving?”

     “Blue pickup… Dairyland.”

      “Dairyland?”  Jensen repeated. 

     “AJ… 677.”

      “Wisconsin plates,” Solomon signaled to his agents to run a search.  Even fragmented information would pull up something.

     “Doctor West, do you know where you are?”

     “Highway.  I don’t… mountains.  Jay!  Its… otter… Kimmy…”

     The agent locked eyes with Jensen, “What is she talking about?”

     “I don’t know,” he shook his head.  “Kimmy who?”

     “Kim… makeup… otter tattoo.”

     It clicked for him then.  The makeup artist who designed her own tattoos, Kimmy.  She’d been quite taken with Y/N when she went to the set that day.

      “It’s Mount Harvey, the snow melt on the south face looks like an otter playing baseball.”

      “Good.  Doctor West, we’re coming to you.”

      If she heard, she didn’t reply.  The phone screen showed the call dropped.  Solomon handed the phone to one of his team to pull trace information while he barked orders.  The well-oiled team shifted into their roles.  Dispatch communicated with local authorities on every level.  One of the advantages of working with the FBI, they were practiced in the art of the manhunt.  It wasn’t a question of if they would get Green, but when.  And would it be in time?

     “Ackles, you’re with me.”

     Jensen looked up in time to catch a bulletproof vest with FBI printed across the chest. 

     “I don’t have civilians on my tactical team as a rule,” Solomon informed him, zipping up his own vest.  “But you know Y/N better than anyone, I need your insight.  Let’s move.”

     You weren’t sure how far you’d gotten or how long you’d been walking.  It seemed like forever.  That ancient truck Arthur had been driving actually turned out to be a blessing.  The frame was good, old fashioned American steel and took the brunt of the crash without much damage.  The seatbelt did its job and prevented you from being thrown through the windshield.  Although, it dug into you with enough force that you likely had a broken clavicle and possibly a dislocated shoulder.  It throbbed like a son of a bitch, but you still made out better than Green. 

     He was going over sixty miles per hour when he crashed, and he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.  He was slumped over the steering wheel, bleeding from a deep gash on his scalp and covered in broken glass from the shattered windshield.  The doctor in you wanted to check for a pulse, but your visual assessment would have to do.  He was breathing, and that was enough.  You knew time wasn’t on your side, you needed to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. 

      You made a quick search of his pockets and found both a phone and a handgun.  The passenger side door was bashed in, making it impossible to escape through the door or the window.  With a quick glance to confirm your kidnapper was still unconscious, you freed yourself from the seatbelt and climbed over the dash and through the shattered windshield.  You ignored the pain of the broken glass tearing into your hands and legs. 

     You had to get out and make a run for it, it was your only chance!

     The charge on the cell was dwindling as it searched for a signal, but the fates were with you, and it connected.  The sound of Jensen’s voice nearly broke you.  You held yourself together enough to get as much information out as you could before the call dropped. 

     “No, no damn it!”  Your fingers shook as you tried to call again, only to be me with no service.  You looked around at the dense trees lining the two-lane highway and the rapidly setting sun.  Tears blurred your vision and the weight of your situation hit you in force.

     There was nowhere to go for help, you didn’t even know where you were!  The adrenaline in your system was fading and you could feel the effects of shock setting in.  Injured in a car wreck coupled with who knows what the side effects of that drug Arthur shot you up with.   You well and truly screwed.

     You bent at the waist; your hands braced on your knees as you fought the rising panic.  The blue patterned silk tied to your wrist peeked out from under your shirt cuff. 

     “Breathe, Y/N.”

     “I can’t.”

     “I’m right here, Sweetheart.  I’m with you.”

     “He’s going to kill me!”

     “You can do this, come on.  Deep breath.  In and out.”

     You closed your eyes and rubbed the silk between your finger and thumb.  Like magic, you saw the closet.  Warm and filled with color-coded clothes.  The scent of cedar and vanilla cologne and Jensen smiling. 

     “You’ve got this, Y/N.  Keep moving, keep fighting!  I’m coming for you.”

     The actor’s trick worked.  Your mind cleared and you focused.  Obviously, continuing on foot was only a decent option when you knew where you were going.  You didn’t.  Which meant it was a drain on your energy reserves.  Plus, it would make rescuing you that much more difficult for the people looking for you. 

     You eyed the woods.  It was risky, with nightfall fast approaching, you would have wildlife to contend with and falling temps, but then… so would Green.  If he came to, he’d be looking for you.  Best to make that as difficult as possible. 

     “Stronger together,” you muttered the motto that became a mantra.  Even though he wasn’t holding your hand, Jensen was still with you.  You could still count on him, to remind you what was worth fighting for. 

     With the gun heavy in your hand, you climbed down the embankment and disappeared into the forest.

     “R.C.M.P. clocked a vehicle matching Green’s heading north on 99.  Last spotted an hour ago just passing Lion’s Bay.”

     “Any confirmation on passengers?”

     “Two.  A male and a female.”

     “Given the timeframe of the crash, they couldn’t have gotten much farther than that.”

     “Any hits on the cell?”

     “No, sir.”

     “Keep trying.  If she’s on the move, we might get lucky.”

     Jensen kept quiet as he sat in the back of the SUV.  The flurry of clipped commands yielded no new information.  They were racing towards you, but there was no way to know if they would make it in time.  Jensen tugged at the tie on his wrist while his mind worked over-time.  Were you hurt?  Scared?  Running or hiding?  Were you alive? 

     God please, let her be alive!

     As if on cue, his cell phone rang.  Only once, before the call dropped, but it was your number.  And it was enough.

     “Got it!  Moving slow, heading north by northeast towards Tunnel Bluffs.”

     “We’ve got local law in the area about ten minutes out.”

     “All units converge on new coordinates, be advised our witness is currently on foot.”

     “The assailant is considered armed and dangerous, use of full and deadly force authorized for all personnel.”

     The trees on Mount Harvey were thick and grew to impressive proportions.  Massive, monolithic firs and pines that held the record for some of the biggest on Earth.  Tangles of undergrowth and roots covered every inch of the forest floor, you lost your footing more than once.  Every fall slowed you down and added to your injuries.  The sun dropped to just below the horizon and the temperature went with it.

     You leaned heavily against one of the pines to catch your breath.  Your physical reserves were nearly gone, and you knew it.  There was just enough daylight left to make out a tree a few feet away.  It had an unusual split in its trunk.  Limping and cradling your arm to ease the pressure on your shoulder, you poked around in the gap.  Mostly filled with decomposing leaves, but big enough to shelter you for the night. 

     You squeezed your body through the opening and bit back a grunt as the bark scraped your injuries.  It wasn’t comfortable, which was for the best.  Your exhausted body was already vying for sleep, anything to counter that was welcome.  The opening wasn’t wide enough to see much, but it was still a defensible position.

     Your frozen fingers flexed around the gun as your eyes worked to adjust to the darkness falling.  The weight of it in your hand was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.  You were a doctor, you saved lives you didn’t take them.  Your thumb clicked off the safety as you committed to the only course of action that would leave you alive.  It would be a long night and you were damn well going to survive it. 

     “All around the cobbler’s bench, the monkey chased the weasel.”

     Your eyes popped open.  When had you shut them?  The phone in your pocket died long ago, so it was impossible to tell how long you’d been in hiding.  The woods were still.  There was no wind or sounds of scuttling wildlife.  But a child’s song, so faint you thought you’d imagined it. 

     “The monkey thought was all in fun.”

     “A penny for a spool of thread, a penny for a needle.”

     “That’s the way the money goes.”

      “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     There it was again.  Singing.  You were sure you hadn’t imagined it, it had to be Arthur.  God!  It seemed like you were making a racket!  Your breathing, your heartbeat, your eyelashes blinking rapidly as you desperately scanned the inky shadows.  Why did sound amplify in the cold and the dark?  It all seemed to be announcing your location to the man who was coming to murder you. 

     “Up and down the London road.”

     “In and out of the Eagle.”

     “That’s the way the money goes.”

     “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     He was playing with you.  The monkey and the weasel.  Cat and mouse.  You should have kept running!  Should have kept to the road, someone would have seen you.  You would have stood a chance!  Now you were in a trap of your own making.

     “I’ve no time to plead and pine.”

     “I’ve no time to wheedle.”

     “Kiss me quick and then I’m gone.”

     “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     The echo of the woods distorted Arthur’s voice so that you had no clue where he was coming from.  Running now would do you no good.  It was too late.  The son of a bitch was closing in on you now.  Would they even be able to find your body?  Would Jensen ever know what became of you?  You should have ran the minute you remembered your name. 

     “All around the cobbler’s bench.”

     “Arthur chased the doctor.”

     “The doctor thought was all in fun…”

     God, please keep him safe from the psychopath.  And Frankie!  Make sure they know I love them!  No matter what happens to me… I love you!

     “Pop!”

     Arthur.  Blood, dirt, and broken glass.  A twisted grin split his grotesque face. 

     Time stopped; a shot rang out.  Then, nothing.

     Jensen stood with the small, second group of agents investigating the crashed truck.  Two sets of footprints disappeared into the woods and the first round of FBI had already spread out into the wilderness to join the Mounties and broaden the search.

     The report of a gunshot echoed all the way back to the road.

     His blood ran cold.  “Y/N.”

     A hand went to Jensen’s Kevlar covered chest before he could move.  Bruce, the iron faced agent assigned to the actor, held him in place.

     "Let me go!"

     "Not a chance."

     "That was a fucking gunshot!"

     "Yeah, it was.  You take off now, the next one might have your name on it."

     “I don’t care!”

     "Right now, every resource we have is focused on Y/N.  You go out there and those resources get split, cutting her chance at survival in half.”

     Jensen turned away, running his hands through his hair.  “Fuck!”

     "We've all got a job to do.  Yours is communication,” Bruce put a steady hand on Jensen’s shoulder.  “You want to help your girl?   Stay put.  Be here and be ready to answer when she calls."

     Knowing Bruce was right didn't make the next hour of waiting any easier.  It was agony.  There was no word.  Not a sound from anyone.  Radio silence, Agent Bruce called it.  He seemed to think it was a positive sign, but it was driving Jensen insane.  Each minute that passed brought a horrible new thought.  A potential nightmare that could play out right in front of him.  And he was powerless to prevent it.

     He was past the end of his rope when an ambulance came into view and sped past them.  Traveling at breakneck speed up the mountain. Flashing lights bouncing off the trees and rock face. 

     Bruce held a finger to the tiny Speaker in his ear.  A grim look passed his features.

     "Let's move."

     He said nothing more.  No word on if you were alive or dead.  No hint at who that ambulance was for.  An hour ago, Jensen would have sworn he'd reached his capacity for worry and stress.  But that was nothing compared to the five minutes it took to reach the clearing.  There was a mass of people milling around.  F.B.I. he recognized and a few others outfitted in uniforms for the R.C.M.P.  That ambulance was parked off to the side, the back door was closed but the lights were still flashing.  Several other official looking vehicles showed up, including one for the coroner’s office. 

     Jensen was out of the car before Bruce even put it in park.  He caught the slender build of Frank Solomon, casually talking to a couple of other agents by the rail guard.  The son of a bitch was acting like he’d completed a milk run!  Jensen’s nostrils flared with rage as he made a direct path for him.

     The young man looked up, seemingly unphased by the Texan’s aggressive approach.

     "Ackles.”

     "Where is she?!"

     Solomon’s mouth opened, but it wasn’t his voice that was heard.  A shrill, terrified scream came from inside the ambulance, cutting through the night.

      "Jensen!"

     He'd spent fifteen years stepping into the boots of Dean Winchester.  Fighting monsters.  Some you could see, some you couldn't.  But no matter how close he was to the hero he portrayed; it was still an act.  Though there were plenty of times he’d wished it were real.  Wished he were more like the enigmatic man in the ’67 Chevy.  The man who always knew what to do.  The man who always saved the day.

     And yes, he would let his ‘Dean’ show from time to time.  That was a blurred line that proved useful more than once.  But in that moment when you screamed for him, there was no line.  There was no Dean, there was clarity. 

     Solomon got exactly one word out, “Wait…”  

     Jensen pulled back his fist and punched him square in the face, knocking him on his ass.

     He ran to that ambulance.  On a mission and with one purpose, he tore the door open.  

     You were sitting on a gurney, struggling against the medic who was trying to keep you from bolting.  Bruised and bloody.  But breathing!  The second you saw him, you went still, your bottom lip quivered.

     “Jensen.”

     The medic proved smarter than the F.B.I. agents and moved out of the way, allowing Jensen the room to take you in his arms.  That was when you broke completely.  Sobbing and desperately clinging to him like a child.  You weren’t sure how you got there.  One minute you were in that tree being stalked by a killer, the next you were being bundled into an ambulance.  It was so surreal!  It wasn’t until you heard Jensen on the other side of the door that you snapped.  Reality crashed over you, and you couldn’t breathe. 

     Jensen tried to will his own panic away.  You were alive.  He had you.  Bloody and trembling, but in his arms.  He could hear himself telling you soothing things.  Comforting words that he would never be able to recall later.  He was sure you couldn’t understand him anyway, you were crying so hard that your whole body shook. 

     But his voice was a balm, the timbre of it washed over you.  After a time, the raw shock wore through to numbness.  You drew a shuddering breath and tried to speak. 

     “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice coming from just over your head.  “I’m right here.”

     You released your death grip on Jensen’s jacket and snuck a look at your hands.  There were burn marks there from the gun powder.  Across the clearing, two men were maneuvering a stretcher over the gravel.  A black body bag was strapped to the top.

     “I killed him.”

     Jensen gently brushed the tangled hair away from your face.  His gaze followed yours to the body being taken away.  It could have so easily been you.  He rubbed his hand down your back and tucked your head under his chin.

     “Don’t look, baby.  Don’t think about it.  Never again.”

     The EMT reappeared, insisting that you go to the hospital.  He listed a number of injuries that needed attention.  Including another fucking concussion.

     You managed a weak laugh, “Look at us, right back where we started.”

     “At least you didn’t drown this time, your average is improving,” Jensen said, kissing your forehead.

     With practiced efficiency, the medic had you secured and ready for transport.  Just as the door was about to shut, Frank Solomon appeared.  His jaw was discolored and starting to swell where Jensen landed his punch. 

     Jensen smirked, “Back for round two?”

     “The ambulance is already at capacity, let’s not chance it.”  Solomon’s dark eyes shifted to you.  The arrogance drained away, and he seemed softer.  Almost repentant. 

      “Doctor West, I wanted to let you know that the death of Arthur Green officially closes this case.  You are no longer under any obligation to the F.B.I. for any purpose and you are free to resume your life.”

     “You won’t need me to make a statement?”

     “We have everything we need.  And I have to say, without your cooperation and your bravery, we never would have gotten Green let alone shut down the drug ring.  This victory is yours.”

     “I shot a man.  Deserved or not, that doesn’t feel particularly victorious.”

     Solomon blinked slowly, “You didn’t shoot Arthur Green.”

     “What?”

     “Barely clipped his shoulder, but I hardly call that a shot,” the agent shrugged, his casual manner back in place.  “One of the Mounted Police got him… Roberts, I think.  One clean shot to the head.  Green was dead before he hit the ground.”

     You could have lived with the death on your conscience, knowing it had been self-defense.  But the fact that you didn’t have to, freed you.  Well and truly.  Lightness settled in where guilt had been only a moment ago.  Words failed you.  An astonished gasp left your lips, and you let you head rest against Jensen’s shoulder.

     “Goodbye, Doctor West.  Mr. Ackles.”  Solomon shut the door and thumped it twice. 

     The ambulance slowly rolled away to begin its descent down the mountain.  Jensen’s hand found yours under the emergency blanket tucked over your lap.

     “It’s over.”

     “Yeah, it’s all over, Sweetheart” he murmured, kissing your temple.

     You and Jensen would talk about the incredible circumstances of how you got together often over the years.  You would muse on the workings of fate and God’s grand plan.  You would wonder at the impossibility of it all. 

     Surely, there must have been an easier way for two lost souls to meet.

     But then, meeting wouldn’t have been enough.  The two of you were drowning; separately but equally.  The miserable details of your own lives were pulling you under like a riptide.  It was so all-consuming that you couldn’t break free.  You weren’t strong enough, not alone. 

     It was like Jensen said that day in your old apartment, make a different choice.  The two of you chose to save each other.  But you also chose to let yourself to be saved.  It wasn’t passive and it wasn’t by chance.  It was a decision.  Perhaps not always an easy one, but it had power. 

     Love does conquer all, but only if you choose it.  TagList @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseubyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetry @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @deanwwinchester

[these-summer-nights-in-december]

Beautiful Postcard Issue 1 has arrived with my collaborative poem and a host of awesome others!

Behold Issue 1 of Postcard!! 10 gorgeously illustrated poetry postcards, with a collaborative poem by myself and Dustin Nightingale, alongside Kelli Russell Agodon, Jared Beloff, Lauren Camp, Denise Duhamel, Alban Fischer, Tom Snarsky, Leah Umansky, Donna Vorreyer, & Mary Zhou. Editor David Wojciechowski has made a thing of great beauty, and you can get the complete set for just $20 bucks. And the next submission period begins February 1. What a joy to be a part of this first issue! Thanks again David! postcardlit dot com 

[ironasss]

VERY LONG POST THAT IS A CONNECTION BETWEEN MANY THINGS!

right, good omens stars michael sheen and david tennant. amazing, incredible. trivia: they were in the movies bright young things together in 2003 (dir. stephen fry) as well as james mcavoy and bill paterson.

As a furtherconnection(s), good omens has A nightingale sang in brekely square, sung by tori amos (who sang the song Graveyard, which nail gaiman used in the graveyard book).

A nightingale sang in berkely square is also the lyric to the song bright young things, which stephgen fry had the pet shop boys sing for the movie, although it ended up being left out.

neil tennant, singer for the pet shop boys, is actually where david tennant got his name, since david mcdonald was already taken in the guild of actors he wanted to join.

right so the book was based off the novel vile bodies, by evelyn waugh. michael sheens character, miles maitland(malpractice in the book), was based off of real life bright young person, stephen tennant. wow! another tennant!

stephen tennant had brothers, one of which was named david tennant, who we will call david pax tennant to avoid confusion. Right, so david pax tennant had four/five children(this is the inconsistency i was talking about) two of which were named david and georgia tennant.

actor david tennants wife is named georgia tennant.In addition, they met on doctor who, where she played his daughter. spooky, i know.

back to the book, evelyn waught also wrote a book called decline and fall, the movie of which had jack whitehall(who plays newton pulsifer).

david tennant and james mcavoy are both marvel, remember that. adria arjona(anathema device in good omens) is also marvel.

david arnold, who did the good omens soundtrack, also did the sherlock(bbc tv series) soundtrack. this of course stars bandersnatch custardwheel, and martin freeman.

bubblebath copperwire was ALSO in episode six of good omens, as satan. and then of course, both him and martin freeman are marvel, as well as tobey jones, a guest star in sherlock.

james mcavoy was in sherlock gnome, which good enough.

ok, bright young things, we remember that? stephen fry, the director of that, was in sherlock holmes: a game of shadows(2011), the sequel to sherlock holmes(2009). those movies had rdj(marvel), jude law(marvel), rachel mcadams(marvel), and jared harris(marvel).

stephen fry played mycroft, and jude law played watson. this is of course, RELEVENT, when you remember that in the movie Wilde(1999), they slept together. stephen fry ALSO slept with michael sheen in that movie.

james d'arcy(marvel) was an extra in that movie, and guess what? james d'arcy played sherlock in sherlock(2002), which had vincent d'onofrio(marvel) as moriarty. ian mckellan(marvel), was also in a sherlock, mr holmes(2015), i believe.

oh, and jude law was actually in a different sherlock as well, but that one doesnt matter. guy henry(who was in bright young things) was two different sherlocks. he was also in kenneth williams: fantaboulosa!(2006) with michael sheen.

ben kingsley(marvel) was in without a clue(1988).(i feel like im missing an important one, but i dont remember what)

ok so on the note of Shakespeare: first off, david tennant is in like eight. EIGHT.

first one we'll talk about is much ado about nothing. his has catherine tate, who! doctor who. doctor who also has matt smith(marvel), karen gillan(marvel) and guestars gemma chan(marvel), letitia wright(marvel), andrew garfield(marvel), michael sheen, ian mckellan(marvel), bill paterson(remember him?), nina sosanya(good omens,casanova which is totally relevant), fenella woolgar(bright young things), adrian scarborough(bright young things), stephen fry, toby jones(again, marvel!), mark gatiss(bright young things, good omens, and bbc sherlock. also im p sure hes gay). (speaking of gay, neil tennant of the pet shop boys is gay)Another doctor who thingy has hayley atwell(marvel) WHO.

was in brideshead revisited(2008), the book for which was written by evelyn waugh, and one of the characters for which was ALSO inspired by stephen tennant. that or evelyn waughs gay lover from college(literally the plot of brideshead revisted)(evelyn waugh was way cooler when he was gay. then he went conservative. then he died.)

(conservative unlike the (stephen) tennant family tree, a good amount of them were liberal scottish politicians, including one or two of the davids.)

back to much ado about nothing, another version had joss whedon(marvel) and clark gregg(marvel), which admittedly wasnt very good, shakespeare was not written for americans. the kenneth branaugh(marvel) version however, that was the best version ive seen.

its worth noting the david tennant one was like an actual stage production(a hilarious one), the other two were regular movies.

next one we will discuss: hamlet. everyones done hamlet. david tennant. michael sheen. good omens. kenneth branaugh. botany candycrush. jude law. ethan hawke(marvel). ian mckellan. its nearly ridiculous. oh god bright young things by the pet shop boys started playing as i was typing this

david tennant has also done richard ii. so has patrick stewart(marvel).richard iii is one that he has not done, but ian mckellan has. that version (1995) also had rdj. (they kissed lmaoooo)(not in the movie like outside of it)(magneto kissed iron man yes thats what im getting at). so has bonaparte cragglethatch.so has peter dinklage(marvel), and martin freeman. oh, and kenneth branaugh.

david skinny ass teeth(im sorry) also did as you like it, more shakespeare. so did, you guessed it, kenneth branaugh! and his version had alfred molina(marvel).

next we have romeo and juliet, yes david tennant did that, so did james mcavoy in gnomeo and juliet and sherlock gnome.paul rudd(marvel) also did that.

david tennant also did the comedy of errors, and thats the only one i know who did that ngl.he also did the merchant of venice. so did charlie cox(marvel).

i-need-a-more-exciting-way-of-saying-david-tennant-dear-god also did king lear.so did ian mckellan.

righty kenneth branaugh did henry v, which had christian bale(marvel and batman. batman might be relevent i havent decided weather i want to include it.)

he also did all is true, so did ian mckellan, and he did loves labour lost, and so did emily mortimer(bright young things)

shakespeaRe-Told: had james mcavoy, bill paterson, billie piper(rose tyler, i), and nina sosanya.

THE SANDMAN. the sandman(written by neil gaiman, ofc) had david tennant, james mcavoy, and michael sheen in the same episode, as well as georgia tennant.

the sandman also had lourdes faberes(pollution in good omens), and stephen fry in three episodes.

it also had bill paterson.

smaller connections, kinda:-stephen tennant(remember him? brother of david pax tennant?)'s mother had a cousin who was a lover of oscar wilde. I also have a family tree of this family written down, i dont know why.

peter o'toole, who was in bright young things, played casanova in the tv show casanova, the same person david tennant was playing. (they played the old and young versions)

Ill add more connections later probably,for now I'm watching doctor who.

[yeaaahhhsss]

Book I’ve Read!

These are titles I’ve read so far as my memory can recall! I do still remember the first novel I read (but not sure it really was the first or the first touching my heart...) so yeah this is it! (not in an orderly manner)

Fiction 1. Herr der Diebe (The Thief Lord) by Cornelia Funke 2. Harry Potter Series by J. K. Rowling (- The Philosopher’s Stone and The Order of The Phoenix 3. The Mortal Instruments Series by Cassandra Clare (only City of Bones and City of Glass) 4. Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins 5. A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket (only The Wide Window and The Penultimate Peril) 6. Legend of Great Tang’s Twin Dragons by Huang Yi 7. The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of The Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson 8. Sherlock Holmes Series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle • Sign of Four • The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Five Orange Pips • The Return of Sherlock Holmes: The Adventures of Empty House, ...of Norwood Builder, ...of Dancing Men, ...of Six Napoleons, ...of the Goldern Pince-Nez • His Last Bow: The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge, ...of the Bruce-Partington Plans, ...of Lady Frances Carfax • The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes: The Adventure of the Three Garridebs 9. Jack Nightingale Series by Stephen Leather (Nightfall, Midnight, and Lastnight) 10. The Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger 11. To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee 12. The Brother Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky 13. On The Road by Jack Kerouac 14. Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë 15. Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry 16. Notes From Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky 17. Book of Souls by Glenn Cooper 18. The Time Keeper by Mitch Albom 19. The First Phone Call from Heaven by Mitch Albom 20. Love Letters to The Dead by Ava Dellaira 21. Ways to Live Forever by Sally Nicholls 22. Life of Pi by Yann Martel 23. The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky 24. The Universe of Us by Lang Leav 25. Hamlet by William Shakespeare 26. 

Comic books 1. Slam Dunk by Inoue Takehiko 2. Detective Conan by Aoyama Gosho 3. Interstellar Bridge/Seikan Bridge by Kyukkyupon 4. Hunter x Hunter by Yoshihiro Togashi 5. Yuyu Hakusho by Yoshihiro Togashi 6. Death Note by Tsugumi Ohba 7. Bakuman by Tsugumi Ohba 8. Kuroko’s Basketball by Tadatoshi Fujimaki 9. Nozaki by Izumi Tsubaki 10. Haikyuu!! by Haruichi Furudate 11. Kocchi Muite! Miiko by Eriko Ono 12. Fullmetal Alchmeist by Hiromu Arakawa 13. Solanin by Inio Asano 14. A Man and His Cat by Umi Sakurai 15.

Nonfiction 1. Blue Collar, Blue Scrubs by Michael Collins, MD. 2. Ceci est ma femme by Oliver Sacks 3. The 5-Second Rule by Mel Robbins 4. Blink! by Malcolm Gladwell 5. David and Goliath by Malcolm Gladwell 6. What The Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell 7. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey 8. Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamonds 9. When by Daniel H. Pink 10. The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli 11. The Problems of Philosophy by Bertrand Russel 12. The View from Planet Earth by Vincent Cronin 13. Collapse by Jared Diamond 14. How to Lead When Your Boss Can’t or Won’t by J. C. Maxwell 15. Aristotle’s Children by R. E. Rübenstein 16. Atomic Habits by James Clear 17. The Naked Traveler 3 & 4 by Trinity 18. 

[goalhofer]

Jared Nightingale vs. Zach Stortini November 29, 2014.

[rausule]

Prominente staatsmanne en Protestante

Die dood van Sidney Herbert het 'n einde gemaak aan Florence Nightingale se droom om die Oorlogsdepartement te hervorm. Inderdaad, vir 'n oomblik, op die golf van teleurstelling, het sy vasgeklou aan 'n laaste hoop: sy het aan Galdstone geskryf en hom gevra om die werk van Sidney Herbert oor te neem. En Gladstone se reaksie was 'n roerende beskrywing van die begrafnis.

Die opeenvolgende staatsekretarisse het probeer om 'n goeie deel van wat gebou is af te breek, maar het nie heeltemal in hul voorneme geslaag nie; en vir nog tien jaar (1662 tot 1872) het Nightingale haar kragtige invloed in die Oorlogsbediening behou. Daarna het sy direkte betrekkinge met die weermag gestaak, en hy het sy energie, met steeds groter toewyding, op meer algemene probleme gerig. Haar werk vir hospitaalhervorming het enorme afmetings aangeneem namate sy toestande in klinieke en werkhuise verbeter het, en een van haar mees noemenswaardige geskrifte het die aanbevelings van die Armregskommissie van 1909 verwag. Die opleidingskool vir verpleegsters wat sy geskep het, met alles wat gevolg het in terme van inisiatiewe, kontroles, verantwoordelikhede en stryd, sou op sigself voldoende gewees het om die energie van ten minste twee mense van normale lewenskrag te absorbeer. En terselfdertyd het haar werk vir Indië, wat begin het met die Army Sanitary Commission in Indië, uitgebrei en in verskeie rigtings uitgebrei. Sy tentakels het tot by die Britse ministerie van Indië getrek en het selfs daarin geslaag om byna ontoeganklike hoë plekke in die hande te kry. Vir baie jare was dit gebruiklik dat die nuutaangestelde visekoning 'n besoek aan Florence Nightingale bring voordat hy Engeland verlaat.

Na baie huiwering het Nightingale haar in 'n klein huisie in Suidstraat gevestig, waar sy vir die res van haar lewe gebly het, tot op die rype ouderdom van een-en-negentig. Haar onsekere gesondheid het geleidelik verbeter, die akute krisisse het minder gereeld geword en uiteindelik heeltemal verdwyn, sy het 'n invalide gebly, maar 'n invalide met 'n eienaardige eienskap: sy was te swak om na onder te gaan, maar kon harder werk as baie kabinetsministers. Sy siekte, wat dit ook al was, was beslis nie sonder sy positiewe aspekte nie: dit het isolasie geverg, en dit was 'n buitengewone, ongeëwenaarde isolasie, kan mens amper sê, wat die hoeksteen van sy lewe was. Die Nightingale het op die bank in die boonste slaapkamer in Suidstraat gelê en die intense lewenskragtigheid van 'n vasberade sosiale persoon gekombineer met die geheimsinnige en aanloklike eienskappe van 'n mite. Hy was 'n lewenslange legende, en hy het dit geweet. Hy het beide die vreugdes van mag geniet, soos daardie Oosterse keisers wat hul outokratiese regering op onsigbaarheid gegrond het, en die kontrasterende bevrediging van roem en anonimiteit. En hy het gevind dat die voorwendsel van siekte as 'n versperring vir mans se oë amper dieselfde doeltreffendheid as 'n hofseremonie gehad het. Prominente staatsmanne en

[rowaninthecloset]

Some concepts for a Dear Evan Hansen guardian AU

The idea of this AU is inspired by an Undertale AU named Reapertale, where everyone is a divine being of some sort with a responsibility to uphold (for example, Toriel is the Goddess of Life and Sans and Papyrus are the Gods of Death).

Basically, there’s various “Guardians” that keep up the maintenance of the world. They mostly live in a world above the clouds as human-like beings (that usually have wings or other appendages), but they can take the form of a human or an animal to explore the world below without detection. Some of them even have jobs and lives down there in order to make it easier to do their jobs. They’re also immortal unless killed, or until they have a successor that they’re training up.

Guardians have two main jobs: Maintain balance and grant wishes from specific individuals (as long as the latter doesn’t clash with the former). They also sometimes have a special kind of animal that they can communicate with and can transform into, which are also honored by their followers down below.

Some characters include:

Evan Hansen: One of the Guardians of the Wild. These guardians are assigned areas of forest to protect and overwatch. They spend a lot of time down below to get to know their area. In his Guardian form, he has tawny wings and a lionlike tail that trails behind him (it betrays his emotions, much to his embarrassment). He, like every other teenage character, is still in training. His animal is a red squirrel.

Heidi Hansen: A Guardian of Healing. Her job includes healing other Guardians, maintaining supplies, and answering pleas for help from the loved ones of those suffering. All her interventions of the latter variety have to go through another Guardian for approval. Healers can also sometimes substitute for Guardians of Life, which help create new mortal beings and Guardians. Her specialty is in physical healing as opposed to healing mental anguish, so she finds a different Healer to help Evan (Dr Sherman). Heidi’s animal is a rabbit.

Connor Murphy: A (rare) Guardian of Death. He hates his job, and would much prefer being a Guardian of the Arts like his sister, but he’s stuck with it. He also has wings, but they’re more batl/dragon like. In the human world, he has the unique ability to slink through shadows undetected. He also has a demonic form barely anybody has seen. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t actually kill; he just comes to collect the lives of those who are already dead or dying in order to end their suffering. He also has a scythe to help yank the lives out of others. His animal is the crow, while his mentor’s are vultures.

Zoe Murphy: A Guardian of Music, which falls under the category of being a Guardian of the Arts. She can sing and she’s also learning a myriad of instruments. Her specialty is in jazz, and other unscripted music. She also has various other powers that she can access via performing music, much like bards in The Owl House. Zoe’s animal is a nightingale, but she has limited communicative abilities with other songbirds too.

Jared Kleinman: A Guardian of Technology, under the category of Knowledge Guardians (which does give him a minor superiority complex). He can focus on a particular object or piece of code and instantly visualise the entire schematic as well as what exactly is wrong with it, which makes things a billion times easier to fix the problem in question. These abilities include a sort of x-ray vision and many magical tools he can use to get up to trouble if he feels like it. It’s kinda hard to explain lol sorry. Many of the times when he’s been sent down on training missions, he just ends up with issues that can be fixed by turning the device in question on and off (which irritates him a little). His animals are ants, which he can order around very easily to help him out.

Alana Beck: A Guardian of Balance. These are the Guardians in charge of restricting the magic used by the other Guardians. They have to grant or deny permission to grant wishes from humans, as well as to make major changes in the world. She has confidence that she can convince the older, more established Guardians to loosen up a bit to help end suffering on Earth when she completes her training, and she also spends a bit of her training with every Guardian to understand exactly what they all do. These Guardians are also the police of the Guardian world. Alana has insect wings to help her with this. Her animal is a grey wolf, an apex predator vital to how the lands they roam function (just look up how wolves affect rivers. I’m not joking).

Cynthia Murphy: A Guardian of the Guardians. This title means that she contributes to keeping up the way of life within the Guardian realm itself. Her job within this Guardianship is to watch the younger Guardians before they get to school (they attend school until they get their assignments). Her animal is a deer, but she doesn’t go down to the human world very often.

Larry Murphy: A Guardian of Justice. These guys are the judges of the Guardian world, in charge of issuing punishments and reform opportunities to wrongdoers. His animal is a hawk.

That’s all I’ve got for now, I might do this for Be More Chill characters too sometime. Thanks for reading!

[rebrandtdebibls]

Vooraanstaande Victoriane

om te sien hoe die plattelandse huis in Embley, asof deur 'n towerkrag, in 'n hospitaal verander het waar sy, die direkteur, tussen die beddens rondgedwaal het? Waarom was selfs sy visie van die Hemel bevolk met die lydende siekes, vir wie hy homself oordadig was? Hy het dus gedroom en gefantaseer en, terwyl hy die dagboek uitgehaal het, het hy die beroeringe van sy siel uitgestort. Toe lui die deurklokkie en dit was tyd om aan te trek vir middagete.

Soos die jare verbygegaan het, het 'n rusteloosheid by haar begin ontstaan. Hy het ellendig gevoel en hy het dit uiteindelik geweet. Sy ma het ook begin agterkom dat iets fout is. Dit was baie vreemd: wat het van liewe Flo geword? Die pa het voorgestel dat sy 'n man neem, maar die eienaardige ding was dat Florence blykbaar geen belangstelling in 'n man gehad het nie, ten spyte van sy aantreklikheid en vermoëns. Niks in die wêreld kon haar keer om 'n wonderlike huwelik te hê nie. In plaas daarvan het sy aan niks gedink as hoe om daardie vreemde begeerte van haar om iets te bereik, te bevredig nie. Asof daar nie so baie in die huis was om te doen nie: sy moes die porselein oppas, en na ete vir haar pa lees. Mevrou Nightingale kon nie daaroor kom nie; totdat sy verwarring op 'n dag in konsternasie en alarm verander het. Florence het haar vaste voorneme aangekondig om vir 'n paar maande 'n verpleegster by die Salisbury-hospitaal te wees; toe het hy die utopiese plan uiteengesit om uiteindelik vir hom 'n huis in 'n nabygeleë dorpie te neem en daar "'n soort Protestantse broederskap vir gekultiveerde dames met 'n sensitiewe siel" gevind. Die projek, wat as absurd beskou word, is geïgnoreer; Mev. Nightingale het, na 'n eerste aanval van terreur, daarin geslaag om haar borduurwerk min of meer rustig te hervat. Maar Florence, wat nou vyf-en-twintig was en gevoel het dat die droom van haar lewe vernietig is, het amper wanhoop bereik.

Inderdaad, die struikelblokke op die pad wat hy gekies het, was enorm. Want nie net in daardie dae was dit byna ondenkbaar vir 'n ryk vrou om haar pad in die wêreld te maak en onafhanklik te lewe nie, maar die beroep waartoe Florence geroepe gevoel het, sowel vir haar instinkte as vir haar vaardighede, is as besonder oneerbaar beskou. 'n Verpleegster het toe bedoel 'n vulgêre ou vrou, altyd onbeskof, oor die algemeen vuil en dikwels grof, 'n mev Gamp¹ toegedraai in vuil lappe, vas aan die bottel konjak en ook geneig tot erger wangedrag. Verpleegsters in hospitale was veral bekend vir hul onsedelike gedrag; hulle het skaars matigheid geken en kon kwalik met die eenvoudigste sanitêre take toevertrou word.

Sekerlik, dinge het verander sedert daardie dae; en dit is grootliks te danke aan Florence Nightingale. Dit is nie verbasend dat haar ouers gebewe het oor die idee dat hul dogter haar lewe aan so 'n beroep toewy. "Dit was asof," dink sy later, "ek wou 'n opwasbediende wees." Tog het hierdie doel, hoe absurd en onuitvoerbaar ook al, nie net in sy hart onbeweeglik gebly nie, maar het dag vir dag in intensiteit toegeneem. Sy ongelukkigheid het in morbiede melancholie verander. Alles om haar het vir haar veragtelik gelyk, en dit was duidelik dat sy self, oortuig daarvan dat sy sulke ongelukkigheid verdien, nog meer veragtelik gevoel het. Ja, hy het gesondig “voor die hof van God”. "Niemand">, het hy volgehou, "het die Heilige Gees op hierdie manier beledig">; hiervan was sy heeltemal seker. Sy het tevergeefs gebid om bevry te word van ydelheid en skynheiligheid en kon dit nie verdra om te glimlag of gelukkig te voorkom nie "omdat sy die feit gehaat het dat God haar hoor lag, asof sy nie berou het oor haar sonde nie."

[thetimelordbatgirl]

OC Pride Challenge 2024 Week One: Identities Day Three: Bisexual

Jared Nightingale from The Adventures Of Bannerman Road.

[fangirlingalways]

Looking for new blogs to follow

 just like/reblog if you love

Jared Padalecki

Supernatural 

Teen Wolf

Winchester Brothers

Maze Runner

Dylan O’Brien

Stiles 

Sam Winchester

Gregory Finnegan

James Nightingale 

Jarry(Hollyoaks)

The Nightingale’s Family (Hollyoaks)

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Nightingale Chapter Sixteen - The Fourth Wall

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Sixteen: The Fourth Wall

Word Count: 4176

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Masterlist

Nightingale Masterlist

     Both your phone and Jensen’s buzzed at the same time.  You knew who it was before you even looked.

     “Solomon,” he said, scrolling through the details of the text.  “Jesus.  This itinerary reads like a weekend convention circuit.  Seriously, who goes out this much?”

     “Breakfast and strolling at the Ester Short Park farmer’s market.  Tour of the Van Dusen Botanical Gardens.  Coffee at Shaughnessy’s.  Window shopping downtown.  Couples’ yoga.  Oohh!  Tickets to Hamilton on Friday night!”

     Jensen’s brow crinkled and those little disapproving brackets appeared at the corners of his mouth.  “Yoga?  Seriously?  I don’t have that…”

     You lifted a shoulder in a shrug, “Couples Tantric Yoga at Good Vibrations Studios.  Wow… the room is heated to 105 degrees to sweat in tandem with your partner.  Open your chakras and your bodies to this intimate practice first discovered in the unpublished Kama Sutra.  Wow, I didn’t know they bent that way…”

     That had him grabbing your phone.  “Seriously?!  Fucking Solomon signed us up for sweaty sex yoga?!” 

     The indignant bluster blew out of his sails a moment later and you broke into laughter. 

     “You’re hilarious,” he deadpanned.

     Your mischievous grin only grew, “You seem disappointed!  Why don’t we call and see if they can squeeze us in to the class on Sunday?”

     You made a grab for the phone, and he held it over his head, out of reach.  Dodging your hands and tickling you at the same time.  Your attempts to tickle him back had no effect and only made him double his efforts.  Torturing you until you were practically crying with giggles.  Suddenly, he hoisted you over his shoulder, bouncing you a bit as he walked through the apartment. 

     “Jensen!  That’s cheating!”  You laughed as you squirmed in his grasp.

     He tossed you down on the bed in a giggling mess then threw himself down beside you.  “There’s no cheating when there’s no rules, Sweetheart.”

     You tried to catch your breath as he moved strands of blonde hair away from your face.  “You aren’t even ticklish.”

     “Used to be, my older brother would sit on me and torture tickle me until I peed my pants.”

     “How’d you get over it?”

     “I found ways to distract myself,” he murmured, his eyes flickering over your face. 

     “Mind over matter?”

     “Something like that.”

     The two of you had shared countless kisses, but you never grew tired of them.  Your heartrate kicked up the moment his lips touched yours, excitement heating your blood the same today as it did the first time.  His strong hands roamed your body, seeking out the secret places that responded so readily.  You yielded to his touch and surrendered on a sigh. 

     He ended the kiss before he could get too carried away.  The FBI had the whole place bugged and the two of you agreed early on that there would be no sex until this mess was behind you.   He pulled you up against him and placed a kiss to your hairline.

     “Better?”

     You nodded, relaxing into his embrace.  Your eyes closed as he threaded his fingers through your hair and gently massaged the nape of your neck.  He always did that when your migraines were bad.  Once your concussion healed, they were practically gone but with all the stress of the investigation, they were back with a vengeance. 

     “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his chest.  “About earlier.”

     “It was an understandable reaction, that guy came up out of nowhere.  I didn’t even see him come up behind us.”

     “I nearly had a panic attack in the middle of the street.  I probably traumatized your poor fans.”

     “Yeah, well I traumatize them every Thursday night so, they’re used to it by now,” Jensen joked, moving his hand to stroke your back.  “How can I help, baby?  Tell me what I can do to make it better.”

     “I don’t know if it can get much better.  I mean, Solomon sends us pictures of the under-cover agents every day.  Both of us are wearing tracking devices.  This place is completely wired and under surveillance.  Everything we do is planned out to the last detail.  I know we are as safe as we can be I just… I can’t stop thinking about him.”  Your chest immediately grew tight, and you fought to keep your breathing under control.

     “Every time we leave this apartment, I’m looking for him.  I’m searching the faces of everyone we pass, wondering if the next one I see will be his.  I feel like a little kid, scared of the boogey man is hiding in the closet!”

     “Is that why you’ve been leaving the bathroom light on at night?”

     “Maybe,” you muttered.  “I know it’s stupid.”

     “It’s justified.”

     “Maybe,” you said again.  “I wish I could be as calm as you are in crowds.  It never seems to rattle you.”

     “Oh, I’m rattled, believe me.  But I’ve got a job to do, and I just focus on it.  Nothing is more important than that, everything else falls away.”

     “You mean acting?”

     “I mean taking care of you,” he curled a finger under your chin, coaxing your gaze to meet his.  “We’re in it together.  Every day, it’s you and me, Sweetheart.”

     “Stronger together.”  You said it at the same time he did.  It had become your mantra over the past two weeks. 

     It was your prayer to each other.  You said every time you set foot outside of the safety bubble of your apartment.  Every time the two of you stopped for pictures with fans.  Every time the paparazzi followed the two of you through a public park or into a restaurant.  Every time you needed reassurance, Jensen would squeeze your hand and whisper it in your ear. 

     It worked well to calm your nerves.  At first.  But as time dragged on with no sign of Arthur Green, the pressure and anxiety built.  You were jumpy, bordering on paranoid.  When that aggressive fan popped up as you were crossing the boulevard, it triggered a reaction so severe that Jensen’s magic phrase didn’t work.  You were so shaken up that the two of you went directly home, despite not completing the daily agenda.

     “I just wish I could do a better job in all this.  I know I’m supposed to look happy and carefree… Green’s never going to show himself if he thinks this is a trap.”  You sighed and fiddled with the buttons on Jensen’s shirt.  “I’ve never had much of a poker face.”

     “Everyone has a poker face; you just have to find your focus.  That’s all acting is, really.  Keeping your focus.”

     “I guess that’s why you’re the actor and I’m the doctor.”

     A thoughtful look crossed his face, as if he’d just realized the answer to a difficult crossword.  His clear, green eyes lit with enthusiasm, and he sat up, tugging you with him.

     “Come on, I’ve got an idea.”

     “What are we doing in your closet?” You asked from your cross-legged position on the carpeted floor.

     Jensen closed the door and stuffed a rolled-up towel against the threshold so that not even a sliver of light could peek through.  “We’re creating the fourth wall.”

     “What?”

     He walked to the bank of drawers along the back wall and searched through the contents.  “It’s an old actor’s trick, you’ll see.”

     He returned with one of his silk ties in his hand.  It was a subtle blue on blue paisley pattern that he wore on one of your dates ages ago.

     He handed it to you and sat on the floor across from you, folding his bowed legs up with a grunt. 

     “I love this tie.”

     “I know you do,” he smiled softly at you.  “Do you remember that night?  That little Italian place around the corner from your hospital?”

     “Of course, I do.”

     It had been a week since you and Jensen reconciled.  You held strong to your decision not to move back in with him.  You were determined to take things slow and not fall back into old patterns.  You wanted this to last, you both did and that meant rebuilding trust.  The man didn’t make it easy though! 

     For his part, Jensen was the perfect gentleman.  Sweet, attentive, respectful, funny, charming.  Good morning texts and calls during his down time on set.  He invited you over for dinner midweek, made your favorite spaghetti and even sent you home with leftovers for lunch.  There were bone melting kisses and hand holding, but he never initiated anything more.  He wanted you to set the pace. 

     On Friday, you arrived at work and found a shallow planter the size of a hubcap overflowing with an array of tiny, blue flowers waiting for you.  Along with a card.

     Have a great day, gorgeous! – Love, J

     Val came up beside you, her eyes wide, “Wow!  Who sent you those?”

     You grinned and ran your fingers over the bright, bell-shaped blossoms.  “They’re from Jensen.”

     “Really?  Anniversary or apology?”

     You slipped the small card into the pocket of your lab coat, “Neither.”

     “Come on, he must have done something.  No guy sends…. What kind of flowers are they?”

     “Bluebonnets.  Texas Bluebonnets.”

     “Right.  Anyway, there’s a reason for them.  You just don’t know what it is yet.”

     You floated through your whole shift.  Not even Val’s cynicism could dampen your mood.  You didn’t have time to send Jensen anything more than a thank you text, but you were determined to show your appreciation.  Maybe you’d invite him over for dinner at your place.  Best to order in, given your abysmal cooking skills.  Or maybe just dessert…

     You were just about to clock out when you were paged over the intercom.  You picked up line four holding for you.

     “This is Doctor Baines.”

     “Gabs?”

     “Tony, what’s up?”

     “I need you for a consult, do you have a few minutes?”

     “Sure.”

     “Great.  Cardiology, Room 202.”

     A few short minutes later you opened the door to 202, instead of a cardiac patient, you found Jensen.  Looking like he just stepped out of the pages of GQ.  His dark blue suit was tailored, pressed and perfect.  Crisp shirt, matching blue tie and a trio of bluebonnets in his lapel.

     He smiled in that way that made his eyes crinkle and made you melt.  “Hiya Sweetheart.”

     You leaned against the door so that it clicked behind you.  “Mr. Ackles.  You are looking remarkably well for a man in the cardiac ward.”

     “Oh, I’m in rough shape, doc.”  He placed a dramatic hand over his heart.  “My ticker’s going crazy!”

     You bit your bottom lip; he really was too cute!  “Is that so?”

     “Yeah!  Every time I see this girl, it’s like my heart’s going to beat right out of my chest.”

     “Sound serious.”

     “You think so?”

     “Heart palpitations are nothing to dismiss out of hand.”  You pulled your stethoscope from around your neck, “I think I better check you over.”

     “I was thinking the same thing,” he drawled.

     You placed a hand in the center of his chest and firmly walked him backwards, your gaze holding his until the back of his legs bumped the exam table.  Wordlessly, you patted the table.  He lifted himself up with ease, the sterile paper crinkled under his weight. 

     “I hope you won’t mind if I get a little… close,” you said, gently urging his knees apart so you could stand in the vacant space between his legs. 

     His voice dipped deep.  “I’m in your hands.”

     You started with his tie, reaching up to loosen the perfectly executed knot.  A tug and the fine fabric came free easily.  It sounded like a hushed whisper as it moved against the starched shirt to pool in your hand.  His Adam’s apple bobbed as you moved on to the tiny button holding the collar closed.  You knew if you looked at him, your resolve would evaporate, so you concentrated on your task.  Button by button.  Inch by inch.  You stopped halfway to put the earpieces in place and warm the bell of the stethoscope with your breath. 

     You slid the bell against the taut, tanned skin of his pectoral and let it rest over his heart.  A smile curved your lips as you heard his heart thumping, strong and steady.  No better sound in the world.  Although, the longer you kept your hand there, the faster that rhythm got.

     “Your heartrate is elevated.”

     “What do I do, doc?”

     “A little test, see how you respond to stimuli.”

     “Sounds intense.”

     This time you risked looking up, those green eyes of his had turned a shade darker and you felt your own heart leap in response. 

     “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

     Keeping the bell anchored over his heart, you leaned up and captured his lips with your own.  Kissing Jensen was as much a revelation today as it was the first time.  He expressed so many things in those moments of intense connection.  Passion and joy.  Exuberant love, romance… sharp desire.  Solace and devotion.  It was the language spoken by souls that met and matched. 

     The kiss deepened, his arms went around you and the staccato beat faster through the earpieces as his heart picked up pace.  Urgency grew.

     You nipped his bottom lip slightly as you pulled away, earning a groan from him.  “You’re killing me, Sweetheart.”

     “Not today.  I can confirm, your heart is in perfect working order.”

     “Good thing, I kinda need it.”  He snagged the stethoscope from you with a smirk, “My turn.”

     Not one to shrink from a challenge, you hopped up beside him, “Do your worst, Doctor Ackles.”

     Somehow, he made the mundane tools of your profession look incredibly sexy.  You didn’t exactly have a doctor kink, but you’d develop one in a hurry if he kept it up.  A serious look swept over his features, and you knew you were in trouble.  In measured movements, he slipped his hand holding the bell under the scoop neckline of your shirt. 

     You knew the moment he found his mark because his face transformed to reflect wonder.  It was an incredibly intimate act to hear the life thrumming in another human being.  He simply listened, as if he was trying to memorize it, hear the music of it.  You were so mesmerized by his experience that you failed to notice his other hand until it found your breast.

     You gasped. 

     His eyebrows rose a fraction, but did not move his hand, “Everything okay?”

     At your nod, he smiled and continued.  Monitoring your heartrate as he explored the curves and concaves he knew so well.  Noting how the rhythm increased when he ran his thumb over the nipple straining under the layers of cotton.  How the beat skipped when his tongue found that secret place just below your earlobe.  Hot kisses down the column of your neck to the hollow where your clavicles met brought your hands up to rake through his hair.  He sucked the skin slightly while his hand traced the inner line of your leg.  Your heart galloped along wildly and when he palmed you through your scrubs, you breathed his name.

     Your head fell back, “Jensen…”

      An annoying beep from his jacket pocket that broke the spell.  He stopped ravishing you long enough to check his phone, “Ooh!  We gotta go!”

     You sat up dazed and trying to catch your breath, “Go?  Now?”

     He hopped off the table and straightened his suit, smoothing out the wrinkles caused by your make-out session.

     “Reservations at Marco’s.”

     You eyed him suspiciously, “You… did you deliberately get me all excited just to tease me?”

     His shrug was innocent, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away.  He held a hand to you, “I just wanted to make sure you had a good appetite worked up.”

     You took his hand and narrowed your blue eyes at him, “Okay.  But we’re getting dessert to go!”

     “Only if you bring your stethoscope, doc,” he replied while brushing a kiss across your knuckles with a wink.

     “When I was twenty-eight, I was in a live production of A Few Good Men.  I hadn’t performed on stage like that since high school.  And I was really nervous, like shaking in my boots, throwing up backstage terrified!  My parents were there, Danneel was there…  a ton of Supernatural fans showed up too.”

     “You had stage fright?  But you’d been an actor for… what, a decade at that point?”

     “Television is different.  If I screw up, we can just do another take.  A live performance takes a different level of concentration.  People in the audience whisper or forget to turn off their phones.  Someone drops something backstage, or your co-star forgets their lines.  Anything can happen.  That’s where the fourth wall comes in, imagine there is an invisible wall between you and the audience.  That the stage is a completely enclosed.  It’s your world, nothing else exists.  Its just you and whoever you are sharing that stage with.”

     You looked down at the blue tie in your hands, “That sounds like something that comes with practice.  It took you years to perfect your craft, I can’t get to that level in an afternoon.”

     “It’s simpler than you think.  Acting is really just reacting,” he said with a smile, “Besides, you had plenty of cram sessions in med school.”

     “I suppose so.”

     “Good.  Now, I want you to look around this space.  Commit the details of it to memory.  Wall color, carpet color, shelves, racks, shoes… all of it.  Everything you can see.”

     You tried to give him back the tie, thinking it wasn’t part of the exercise and he shook his head, “Nuh uh.  You keep that, you’ll need it.”

     Your brow furrowed slightly, wrapping the tie around your left hand nervously.  You felt like you were failing, and you hadn’t even started.

     Jensen reached out and stilled your hands with his own, “Hey, deep breath.  There’s nothing to worry about.  It’s just you and me here, this is our own little world.  Everything outside that door, that’s them.  No one else can come in here, ever.  We’re safe here.  Just you and me.”

     “Stronger together,” you murmured.

     “Stronger together,” he repeated back.  “Close your eyes.”

     You did as instructed.  He released your hands and sat back, “Deep breath, in and out.  Again.  Good girl, relax.  Let the tension melt from your muscles and drain away.  Deep breath… good.  Very good.”

     You loved his voice; it was warm and had a deep resonance that put you at ease.  The cadence of his instructions had an almost hypnotic quality and you felt yourself sinking into it. 

     “How do you feel?”

     “Good,” you said with a sigh, “Kind of floaty.”

     “The tie in your hands.  How does it feel?”

     You rubbed the material between your fingers, “Smooth.  Cool, like a mountain lake.”

     “Good,” he praised again.  “Now, I want you to picture the closet in your mind.  Put it together with the details you saw only moments ago.”

     You frowned slightly, rubbing the silk in your hands like a worry stone.

     “It’s just you and me here, Y/N.  It’s our world, our safe place.  Tell me what you see.”

     “Clothes.”

     He waited a beat, “Anything else?”

     “Um… the door?”

     “Dig a little deeper, Harvard.”

     “My annoying boyfriend.”

     Jensen held back a sigh, determined not to break the spell.  “Try scent, how does it smell?”

     “Good,” you huffed out in frustration.  The tension was building back up in your shoulders and your ass was starting to fall asleep from sitting on the floor.  You found yourself wondering if it was too late to run away to Bermuda.  You took another deep breath and caught something you hadn’t noticed before.

     “Cedar.  You keep those little cedar balls in the sock drawer.”

     “Yeah, I do.”

     “Tom Ford… um… that vanilla one I like.”

     He grinned, you told him it was your favorite and he bought three bottles just to make sure he always had some on hand.  “Vanilla Tobacco.”

     “Fabric softener, there are dryer sheets in the vents… and there is an air vent somewhere behind me, its blowing on my shirt.  The woodwork in here is light, the rest of the apartment is dark, in here it’s not.  Your clothes are arranged by type and then by color.  Same for the shoes, which you have an insane amount of.  Everything is on those expensive hangers you love so much.  Oh!  And you have two whole drawers devoted to watches.”

     “Good job, open your eyes, Sweetheart.”

     As you did, he took the tie from your hands and cut it neatly in half with his pocketknife.

     “Jay!”

     He took your left arm and tied the narrow end around your wrist, “This tie is your tether to this space.  Every time you feel anxious or scared, I want you to feel that silk against your skin and remember how it felt to be here.  Come back to this safe place where it’s just you and me.”

     He held the other half of the tie out to you along with his left arm.  You followed his example and fastened it around his wrist to match yours.  When you were done, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tight, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

     “Thank you,” you whispered.

     Jensen pulled you down to sit on his lap and held you close.

     “I’ve got you,” he vowed, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “Always.”

     Three days later, you and Jensen were at yet another public outing.  This time it was Shakespeare in the park.  At this point you were so sick of concerts, romantic dinners, and date nights that you were ready to tear your hair out.  At least it was your favorite play, Much Ado About Nothing.  Comedy always beats tragedy. 

     The place was packed, no surprise given the beautiful weather.  There were vendors selling everything from Italian Ice to Chicken and Waffles on a stick.  Street musicians busked, kids played in the fountain, couples necked under shade trees, dogs trotted along happily with their owners.  It was idyllic.

     Maybe it was the sunshine or the actor’s trick Jensen taught you, either way, you felt good.  Relaxed.  Even when a group of fans gathered around for pictures and autographs, you felt centered and calm. 

     “Oh my gosh!  You two are so cute together!”  A younger girl gushed.

     “Can we get your picture too?” another asked you, “Are you really a doctor?”

     Jensen pulled you to his side and slung an arm around your shoulders, while you smiled up at him. It was your typical couple in love pose.  He kissed your temple and every girl in eyesight sighed. 

     “I am a doctor.  As a matter of fact, you should get your friend there some water and shade,” you replied motioning to a swaying, giggling girl heading for the margarita truck.  “Maybe no more alcohol for today?”

     “Check out my girl,” Jensen said as the group wandered happily away, “Signing autographs, saving lives.”

     “Saving her from a hangover maybe,” you replied, lacing your fingers through his as you strolled.  “People tend to underestimate the effects of drinking on days like this.”

     “We’ve got about ten more minutes before the intermission is over, want to head back?”

     “Yeah, um maybe hit the bathroom first?”

     You entered the surprisingly empty ladies’ room while Jensen waited for you just outside the door.  You couldn’t wait for this FBI business to be over so you could go to the bathroom alone, like a normal person. 

     You were just washing your hands when the door swung open and a couple of the girls from the earlier group stumbled in, including the drunk one.  You gave a polite nod and stepped out of their way, but it wasn’t quick enough to avoid a collision.  The three of you ended up in a tangle on the floor, two of them giggling and you, definitely not.   

     “Are you two alright,” you asked, trying to keep your composure.

     The tipsy girl threw her head back and laughed, rolling back on the floor.  The other one shook her head in disgust.

     “Ugh, Jesus Suzie!  Bitch never could hold her booze.”

     You felt dizzy.  And unbearably hot!  You tried to get up, but your muscles didn’t respond.  Something wasn’t right. 

     You called for Jensen, but your tongue was heavy in your mouth.  All that came out was a garbled mess.  You felt your heart begin to race as you panicked and your vision blurred.

     “Gee, you seem a little green around the gills, Doctor West.”

     The sober girl was standing at one of the sinks, studying her face in the mirror as she spoke.  Her clothes hung loose on her long, wiry frame.  Choppy black hair framed a thin face with severe features.  Dark eyes, nearly black.  Eyes that were normally behind glasses. 

     Arthur.  “Oh… God.”

     Green dropped to the balls of his feet, a lethal grin twisted his face as he grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked your head back. 

      “Hello again, Y/N.”

[qcmallardshockey]

Cyclones Carry Mallards to Over-time

MOLINE, IL – It was a dank and dreary night in Moline, a herald of what was to come for the Quad City Mallards. A three-goal lead quickly vanished amongst the fog, while a body materialized from the vapors of the past. The Cincinnati Cyclones defeated the Mallards in over-time in the teams’ third game in less than 48 hours – though only Sunday’s match-up saw the two face-off.

Chris Izmirlian started things off for the Mallards just 69 seconds into the game, sending in a Ryan McGrath pass. McGrath, who was in the right trapezoid, passed to Izmirlian at the left corner of the crease, where the recent signing got the on scoresheet for the second time in as many games. Another recent signing,Travis Armstrong, also notched an assist on the tally. Two minutes later the Mallards added to their lead thanks to Jared Nightingale. Nightingale came out of retirement for a single game, as he now serves as assistant coach for the Omaha Lancers of the USHL. On Saturday night the Lancers were in Des Moines playing the Buccaneers, allowing Nightingale the opportunity to play one more game.

As Keegan Kolesar brought the puck into the offensive zone along the left boards, he tripped on the blue-line. Nightingale was there to pick up the puck, sniping a wrister in to double the score. Matt Pohlkamp then put the Mallards up 3-0 with help from Willie Raskob and Alex Globke. Pohlkamp sent a backhanded shot through the five-hole as he skated up from behind the net, the puck bouncing through Johansson’s pads first. A minute later, the Cyclones’ comeback began.

Twenty-one seconds after going onto the power-play as Sam Warning was guilty of tripping, Justin Danforth ended Jake Paterson’s shut-out bid. Danforth cleaned up the garbage infront of Paterson, Justin Vaive and Daniel Muzito-Bagenda picking up the assists. A few minutes later the visitors drew within one after a series of redirections that beat Paterson as he slid coast to coast. The puck began on the left, Paterson sliding right to follow the puck as it was passed through the air. Arvin Atwal batted the puck back to the right, where Brandon McNally tapped it in. Chris Leone also made his way onto the scoresheet with an assist on McNally’s goal.

The second period saw tempers begin to flare, and special teams showcase their abilities, as after Jamie Tardif doubled up the score again a kerfuffle broke out. Warning passed from the near edge of the right dot to Tardif near the crease, Kolesar picking up another assist. It was as McGrath skated over to join the celebration that Anthony Florentino shoved him, and the two exchanged a couple shoves before the two teams converged to voice their disapproval. Cincinnati then struck with two quick goals to knot the score at four apiece before the teams headed to the locker rooms for second intermission.

Vaive was screening Paterson when Danforth shot the puck from the far edge of the left dot, deflecting the shot in to continue the comeback. The goal was originally credited to Danforth, but during intermission it was corrected to Viave; Muzito-Bagenda tallied an assist on the power-play goal. Alex Kile was in the slot and sent the puck in topshelf to tie the game, making Mallards fans wonder if it was going to turn into another shellacking a la Friday’s contest against the Kalamazoo Wings.

The Mallards managed to convert on a power-play in the final frame with just over two and a half minutes to play, Tardif scoring his second goal of the night with help from Jake Bolton and Kolesar. Kolesar and Bolton have both been hot the past weekend, Bolton tallying four assists in three games while Kolesar has notched four goals and three assists in the same timeframe. The Cyclones pulled their goalie with roughly two minutes remaining, and the extra attacker gave the team the boost needed to tie the game just a few seconds later. It was Vaive who sent the game into over-time, Jesse Schultz and Danforth assisting. Just over 90 seconds into the period of extra hockey, Vaive completed his hat-trick with the game-winning goal.

In all, Paterson turned away 23 of 29 shots for Johansson’s 36 saves on 41 shots. The shot differential was very pronounced in the first period, when the Mallards led 19 to seven. For most of the game the Mallards were an aggressive team – finishing their checks, fighting for the puck, and showing the hard-hits that fans so desperately want to see.

The Mallards will take to the road for a three-game road trip starting on Wednesday, first taking on the Brampton Beast and then the Worcester Railers Friday and Saturday. Puck drop on Wednesday is set for 6:15 CST. The next chance to catch the Mallards at home is January 31st, another Wednesday game, against the Cyclones; that opening face-off will be at 6:30.

[nothingunrealistic]

13. too much, jared and evan

13. too much

Jared’s mom answers the doorbell and tells Evan that Jared’s in his room, which is his first clue that something is up. The summer before high school, the Kalwanis turned half their basement into a study room, and Jared lugged all his video games downstairs, covered the walls in posters, and informed Evan that if he wanted to come over, they’d hang out in the basement, even if he was staying the night. Evan can’t recall the last time he climbed the stairs to Jared’s bedroom, but the second floor looks just like he remembers.

Second clue: he knocks on Jared’s door, and Jared calls “What?” through the door in an oddly scratchy voice.

“It’s Evan.”

“What do you want?”

Evan takes that as permission to enter and finds Jared — third clue — lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. Actually on his bed, not even under the covers, a pillow under his legs instead of his head.

Whenever Evan’s uncomfortable, he tends to say the first thing that pops into his head. “Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you Florence Nightingale?” Jared turns his head to glare at Evan, winces, and rubs his shoulder. "I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

Jared sighs and resumes staring at the ceiling. “Yesterday was Twelfth Night closing.” Now Evan winces. Jared had asked him to go see the drama club’s production of Twelfth Night so many times, and he really had meant to, but he was sure it closed next weekend, and he hadn’t managed to ask his mom which nights she could drive him there, and the poster in the hall outside his math class listed a different ticket price than the poster in the cafeteria, and — “So we had two shows and then the cast party. It got a little crazy. I’m recuperating.”

“Are you…” Evan lowers his voice. Jared’s parents could come upstairs at any moment. “Drunk?”

“Not that kind of party,” Jared says, like Evan’s stupid for even asking. “I’m just tired. And my back hates me.”

“And your voice is weird.”

“Have you ever had to shout over a dozen Idina Menzel wannabes all scream-singing ‘Take Me or Leave Me’ because they’re convinced we’re doing Rent next year? It’s worse than homecoming.” Saying that must send Jared down the same mental rabbit hole as Evan, remembering just how bad the bad parts of homecoming were, because he abruptly says, “Why are you even here?”

“We have that Spanish project due on Tuesday? And we agreed we were going to work on it today?” Jared groans and mumbles something like fuck my life to himself. “I mean, I can go home, we can do it tomorrow…”

“Let’s get it over with. You’ll just have to do most of the writing. And the thinking.”

“Okay. Right, yeah.” Evan sits down in Jared’s bean bag chair, takes off his backpack, and searches through it for his Spanish folder. “Oh, hey — I have a water bottle in here, it’s not open or anything, and I don’t know if you’re thirsty, but —”

“I’ll take it,” Jared says, sticking out his hand. Evan leans forward to put the bottle in his hand; his fingers close around it and brush Evan’s. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

(Put a number and two characters in my ask box and get a hurt/comfort drabble)

[rausule]

Prominente Protestante

dit was vir haar genoeg: sy sou nie verder ondersoek instel nie. Hy het geweier om te oorweeg watter algemene beginsels die verskynsel beheers het en of sulke beginsels selfs bestaan ​​het. Vir jare ná die ontdekkings van Pasteur en Lister het hy gespot wat hy die obsessie met batterye genoem het. Die infeksies het nie bestaan ​​nie; hy het hulle nog nooit gesien nie, so hulle het nie bestaan ​​nie. Maar hy het die goeie resultate van vars lug gesien, daar kon geen twyfel daaroor wees nie, en dit was dus noodsaaklik dat pasiënte se kamers goed geventileer is. Dit was sy gedagte, en in tye toe die vensters hermeties toe gebly het, was dit 'n gedagte met revolusionêre kenmerke. Dit was egter suiwer empiries, en het dus tot 'n paar nadele gelei. Toe sy gesag in Indië byvoorbeeld op sy hoogste vlak was, het hy streng opdragte uitgereik dat al die vensters van die hospitaal te alle tye oopgehou word. Die Indiese owerhede, wat die uitwerking van hierdie maatreël in daardie tropiese klimaat voorsien. hulle het geprotesteer, maar tevergeefs het die Nagtegaal nie saamgestem nie. Hy het niks van die tropiese klimaat geweet nie, maar uit persoonlike ondervinding het hy geweet wat die voordele van vars lug is, wat die owerhede gesê het is onsin en vensters moet heeljaar oopgehou word. Daar was 'n vlaag van protes onder dokters in Indië, maar sy het onwrikbaar gebly; en vir 'n oomblik het dit gelyk asof sy nadelige bevele uitgevoer moes word. Lord Lawrence was egter onderkoning en kon met genoegsame gesag aan Nightingale oordra dat hy self die saak besleg het en dat sy besluit moes bly staan, alhoewel in stryd met hare. Hierop het die Nagtegaal toegegee, maar teësinnig en halfhartig is sy net deur Lord Lawrence se swakheid versteur. Ongetwyfeld, as sy vandag geleef het, en as haar ervaring nie onder die gevalle van cholera in Scutari gevorm was nie, maar onder dié van geelkoors in Panama, sou sy verklaar het dat vars lug 'n fanatisme was en tot op die laaste die enigste werklik effektiewe middel om siektes te bekamp was om muskiete uit te roei

Maar sy verstand, so positief, realisties en pragmaties, het sy unieke rigtingveranderings gehad, sy geheimsinnige krisisse van mistiek en twyfel. Soms, terwyl sy slapeloos in die oggendure gelê het, het sy in lang en gekwelde meditasies verval en dan, terwyl sy 'n potlood gryp, sou sy die belydenisse van haar siel aan papier toevertrou. Die angswekkende angs van die dae voor die Krim het haar weereens aangegryp en sy het bladsy na bladsy gevul met sielsondersoek, selfkritiek en selfabsolusie: O Padres, het sy geskryf, berusting by my lot, ek onderwerp my heelhartig aan die hand dat U my aanbied om my te red.... O, hoe ydel is dit nie, ydelheid van nietighede, om te voed op die gedagtes van mense in plaas van die gedagtes van God. Sy was alleen en ongelukkig. U weet dat ek in al daardie verskriklike twintig jaar ondersteun is deur die sekerheid om vir U te werk, wat ons almal, selfs ons arme verpleegsters, na die pad van volmaaktheid lei. Maar dan, op die ou end, wat was die resultaat? Was sy nie ook 'n nuttelose bediende nie? Een nag, skielik wakker, sien hy, in die dowwe lig van die lamp, donker skaduwees op die muur. Die verlede kom terug na haar toe. Is ek regtig die vrou wat eens in die Krim geseëvier het, wonder sy verwoed. "Die beeld van die Dame van die Lamp" sal voortduur... Die lamp verlig net my volledige nederlae

Hy het vertroosting gesoek in die geskrifte van mistici en in korrespondensie met Jowett. Vir baie jare was die rektor van Balliol College haar geestelike raadgewer.In 'n reeks baie lang briewe het hy die probleme van godsdiens en filosofie met haar bespreek en met die beleefde begrip van 'n geestelike wat ook 'n man van die wêreld was, gekritiseer haar vir wat hy oor hierdie onderwerpe geskryf het; soms het hy dit selfs gewaag om 'n bietjie van sy sonderlinge soetheid in daardie rebelse geaardheid te voeg.Dit lyk vir my, het hy vir haar gesê, dat jy die moontlikheid ernstig moet oorweeg om nie met minder energie aan te gaan nie, maar met 'n rustiger verstand. Ek blameer nie die verlede nie...maar ek wens die vrede van God om jou toekoms te seën, Le

Prominente Protestante

Ek beveel ook aan dat jy nie meer tyd mors in dispute met regeringskantore nie en jouself aan een of ander literêre werk toewy. Dit het daartoe gelei dat sy in 'n reeks essays vir Frazer's Magazines uitgebrei het oor die konsep van perfeksie divinas. Sy het dit gedoen en haar geskrifte is aan Froude voorgelê, wat verklaar het dat die tweede opstel selfs meer indringend as die eerste was. Ek kan nie voorsien nie, het hy vir haar gesê, wat die uitwerking van sulke geskrifte op die intellekte sonder ervaring sal wees. Carlyle het egter in 'n ander taal gepraat, en aangesien sy opmerkings oor 'n verlore skaap, wat in die berge geblêr het, ontoepaslik na die Nagtegaal verwys is, was al Jowett se vriendelikheid nodig om die vrede te herstel. In 'n brief van veertien bladsye het hy haar aandag van daardie pynlike vraag afgelei na 'n diskwisisie oor stiltelikheid. Ek sien nie hoekom nie, verduidelik die rektor, 'n aktiewe lewe nie ook 'n soort passiewe lewe kan word nie. En toe voeg sy by: Soms dink ek dat menslike moontlikhede baie hoër hoogtes kan bereik as wat hulle tot dusver bereik het.Om die nut van hierdie idees te erken, het sy dit met blou potlood onderstreep; en op sy beurt sy vriend gehelp met 'n lang reeks uitgebreide kommentare op Plato se dialoë, waarvan hy baie in die tweede uitgawe van sy vertaling opgeneem het. Geleidelik het Nightingale se belangstelling in Jowett meer persoonlik geword; sy het vir hom gesê om nie na middernag verder te werk nie en hy het haar gehoorsaam. Toe het sy hom gehelp om ’n nuwe ritueel vir die kollegekapel se daaglikse kerkdienste saam te stel, met ’n keur uit die Psalms soos volg: “God die Here, God die Regter, God die Vader en God die Vriend; maar die projek is nooit uitgevoer nie omdat die biskop van Oxford, op advies van Sir Travers Twiss, nie die wysigings toegelaat het nie, en sodoende sy wettige magte uitgeoefen het

Hul verhouding het hegter geword. Die gees van die 23ste Psalm en die gees van die 19de Psalm moet in ons lewens verenig word, het Jowett gesê. Uiteindelik het sy hom vir 'n spesiale guns gevra. Was hy gewillig om, onthou die bydrae wat hy tot haar godsdiensbeskouings gemaak het, na Londen te kom om die Heilige Sakrament aan haar te bedien? Jowett het nie gehuiwer nie en later verklaar dat hy die geleentheid altyd as 'n plegtige gebeurtenis in sy lewe sal beskou. Hy was toegewyd aan haar, alhoewel die ware aard van sy gevoelens nooit ten volle geopenbaar het nie. Haar gevoelens teenoor hom was meer gemeng. Aanvanklik was hy daardie groot en goeie man, daardie regte santos. Maar met verloop van tyd het 'n bietjie bitterheid met die soetheid van die lof vermeng, en die bitterheid van sy natuur het hom openlik vertoon. Sy het gevoel dat sy meer begrip gee as wat sy ontvang het en was moeg en geïrriteerd deur sy geselskap. Op 'n dag kon hy homself nie help nie en het vir hom geskree: Hy kom na my toe en praat met my asof ek 'n ander personals is.