#like I have to mail something to Kansas

[bleu-guacamole]

Guess who forgot taxes are do tomorrow and now is frantically running around because they have to tell the government that they don’t owe the government any money but the government already knew I don’t owe them a single fucking cent so who am I doing this for!?!!?

[lightgaswaterelectricityrent]

one of the worst small business practices has got to be the "create the shipping label so they can't say we didn't ship it in a timely manner except we didn't actually take it to the post office for 5 more days"

[wonderjanga]

When Billy was a Newbie

I like to think some of these scenarios happened when Billy was first starting out as a hero.

Villain: *monologging*

Marvel: *doesn’t even let them finish and socks the shit out of them and takes them to the police department*

This happens a good twenty times until one villain has enough.

Villain: *monologging*

Marvel: *about to attack while they’re talking*

Villain: “OKAY WAIT WAIT WAIT, STOP RIGHT THERE YOU BASTARD.”

Marvel: *stops, confused*

Villain: “I know you’re new to this whole thing, but you do realize you’re supposed to let us monologue and tell you our evil plan, right?! You’re not supposed to cut us off!”

Marvel: “I’m not?”

Villain: “No!”

Marvel: “Oh. I’m sorry about that, Mx. Supervillain. I’ll let you and the other ones talk next time.”

Villain: “Wait, really?”

After this, he actually does end up letting them talk and all that.

I also think something like this would happen when he was getting used to fighting crime.

Marvel: *throws one of the big blue mail boxes at some low level, human, emphasis on human, crooks* “Oh… my bad, guys! I was a little too harsh.”

Crooks: *severely injured* “What do you mean ‘your bad’?!?????? That was a little more than harsh!”

Then, there’s the fact I think he wouldn’t care about where he’s saving people. By that I mean, Billy has a lot of free time because he doesn’t go to school. Because of this, you’ll casually see Captain Marvel in flipping Milwaukee helping some people who got into a car crash, then in Orlando helping out with a fire, then in San Jose helping someone who lost their dog. Point is, if there’s someone to help out, he’ll help. Through this, he met Superman actually. Funnily enough, it was while holding up a building.

Marvel: *holding up a building*

Supes: *flies down* “You’re Captain Marvel, right?”

Marvel: “Huh? Uh yeah?” *looks over Superman, seeing his suit and thinking he’s another hero (Billy doesn’t know most heroes because this was when the time bubble recently popped)

Supes: “You need a hand with that?”

Marvel: “Yes, please.”

Supes and Marvel: *work together to move the building to somewhere safe so it won’t hurt anyone*

Marvel: “Thanks.”

Supes: “No problem.”

*awkward silence*

Supes: “If I can ask, what brought you to Metropolis?”

Marvel: “I’m here to fight crime…?” *says like it’s super obvious*

Supes: “Wha? Don’t you have your own city?”

Marvel: “I mean, I guess. Fawcett isn’t really my city though. I just protect it.”

Supes: *blanking and trying to come up with something to say* “Captain, you can’t just go around in other hero’s cities and fight crime for them. It’s a breach of territory.”

Marvel: “It is?”

Supes: “Yes, it is. Honestly, I’m just happy you didn’t do this in Gotham. Batman would’ve been furious.”

Marvel: “Oh. Okay then… so just stick to cities that don’t have heroes?”

Supes: “Well, I guess but don’t you normally-”

Marvel: *beaming smile* “I appreciate the advice, Mr. Superman.”

Supes: “Your…welcome? Wait, what do you mean ‘stick to the cities that don’t have heroes’?”

Marvel: “Oh, well, when crimes slow and nothing’s going on in Fawcett, I kind of just fly around everywhere looking for stuff to do. Just the other day I helped these two old, farmer people, husband and wife, lift their tractor out of some mud.”

Supes: *a little astounded he has that much time on his hands* “Really? Where was that?”

Marvel: “Kansas. I think the town they lived in was Smallville or something?”

Supes: *nearly shits himself* “Ah… I see.”

Then there was the time he met a random Green Lantern. He had no idea what the Lantern Corp were, but any information Solomon gave him made them sound cool though. But you want to know the worst part of this interaction? The Lantern was trying to give Marvel a ring.

Random GL (RGL): *talking about how he wanted to give Billy the ring and yadayadayada*

Marvel: *not even listening due to the Gods talking a whole lot*

Mercury: “BILLY STEAL THE RING!”

Marvel: *saying this out loud* “What? What ring?”

RGL: *confused, says something Billy isn’t paying attention to*

Mercury: “THE RING ON HIS FINGER. KEEP UP WITH THE PROGRAM.”

Marvel: *still talking out loud* “Oh okay okay… how do I do that?”

Solomon: “You are supposed to use your will.”

Marvel: “Huh? Solomon there’s no way that’ll wor…” *trails off as he wills the ring off the lantern’s finger* “I take back what I said.”

RGL: *starts to fall*

Marvel: “Holy moly!” *rushes down to catch him*

RGL: “Earthling what the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that??!?”

Marvel: “I’m sorry! The voices has told me to.” *gives them back their ring*

RGL: *flies off grumbling how he’s a psychopath*

Then there was when Marvel joined the Justice League. When he got the communicator, he put it in his pocket dimension and promptly forgot about it.

Marvel: “The Justice League hasn’t contacted me. I wonder if I’ve done something wrong…”

Meanwhile…

Batman: “This is like the third meeting he’s missed, Clark.”

Supes: “I know, I know! I’m sorry! He didn’t seem like the type to skip out on meetings. He talked like he had a bunch of free time.”

WW: “You should go talk to him. You are the one who invited him.”

Supes: *sighs* “I will.”

Back in Fawcett…

Marvel: *helping a cat down from a tree*

Supes: *flies down when he sees him* “Captain! Can we talk?”

Marvel: *hands cat back to its owner* “Mr. Superman. Of course! I’ve actually had something I’ve been meaning to talk about with you too.”

Supes: “Right, well I guess I’ll cut straight to the point. Is there a reason you haven’t shown up to the last meetings?”

Marvel: *stares at him with the most confused face* “Meetings?”

Supes: *confused at Billy’s confusion* “Yes? You get notified on your comm about them.”

Marvel: “Comm… Comm?” *thinking face before recognition flits across his face* “Wait, this thing?” *reaches hand into pocket dimension and pulls out his JL comm*

Supes: *slightly horrified when he saw his arm disappear for a moment* “Yeah. That.”

Marvel: *taps comm and sees over 45 unread notifications* “Oh.”

Supes: *wondering how in the world Marvel never checked his comm* “Oh indeed.”

[fandom-hoarder]

happy wincest wednesday! what is something the boys would do for each when the other isn't looking or paying attention just to be nice?

Hahhh... sorry for letting this sit so long; I have been extremely distracted. Idk if it's appropriate to say "happy" today, but it does so happen to be wincest wednesday and well... this probably wasn't the kind of answer you expected at the time, but here's what this makes me think about today...

~

Dean wakes up -- later than he's been used to most of his life, but earlier than he's grown accustom. He can feel that Sam's still in bed, and guesses it's before Sam's 6am run. But then the hairs on his body raise inexplicably, and he sits up with the urgency of a house fire.

"What's going on?"

And Sam's answer is tired, red-rimmed eyes and his phone wordlessly turned so Dean can see the screen.

Dean feels detached from the bigger issues of the election as Sam cycles through the stages of grief throughout the morning. Dean's only concern is Sam.

Sam tries to start getting ready for his run. "They haven't really even finished the count yet. There's still a chance for a miracle in the mail-in votes," he says, but his shoe drops from his hand when he tries to pick it up, and he just stares at it. Dean wonders if Sammy is thinking about their track record in miracles.

So Dean agrees, "Of course, come on, this guy again? No way. The blue guys'll clinch it." And he helps Sam put on his shoes and then puts on his own, pulling Sam out of the bunker with him and bracing against the early morning chill, only to be met with a balmy, pre-sunrise 50 degrees.

Halfway through their jog, Sam suddenly breaks his sync with Dean, kicking at a tree with a guttural growl and the full force of his foot as if he was wearing his hunting boots. Dean cringes.

"Maybe if I'd found a way for us to vote without getting arrested -- we've broken so many laws anyway, what's a little voter fraud, right?! But no. And now look!"

He aims for the tree again, but Dean catches his leg with an 'oof.'

"C'mon, Sam, you know that's ridiculous. The two of us wouldn't have turned Kansas around by ourselves. You can't help that you still have faith in people, Sammy. You wouldn't be you if you didn't."

"Because I'm stupid," Sam says bitterly, and turns around to jog back to the bunker.

Dean follows him, but can't quite keep up this time. When he reaches the bunker, Sam is on the phone in the kitchen.

"I'm tellin' you, Garth, it's just like that time with Dick Roman when they drugged everybody to turn us into food. You really haven't heard anything? Don't you think it's completely crazy to believe his followers aren't under some kind of supernatural influence, for him to get away with all the horrible shit he does?"

"Well, maybe you could try asking Rowena---" Garth's tinny voice suggests as Dean pulls the phone away and hangs up.

"Dean--" Sam complains, reaching for the phone dispassionately.

"You know we already looked into this asshole. He's 100% human evil, Sammy."

Sam collapses onto the table bench, hand over his face. "Claire's already texted me twelve times. I don't even know what to say to her."

Dean looks at Sams phone and sees that there's a voicemail from Patience too. Pursing his lips, he turns off Sam's phone and pockets it. He sidles up behind Sam, cupping the back of Sam's neck and squeezing like he's scruffing him.

Sam takes a deep, hitching breath and holds it, breathing it out long and slow as Dean slides his hands down to dig his thumbs into the knots Sam's formed over the last twelve anxious hours.

"Well I guess," Sam starts, softly, "At least now he can't run again after this."

Dean starts to glimpse the promise of relief in his belly, before Sam adds with a self deprecating laugh: "As long as he doesn't change the law about term limits."

Dean squeezes Sam's shoulders, and keeps working at the tension until his hands get sore. Then he makes them breakfast, and makes sure Sam gets something in his stomach besides coffee.

But after Sam mechanically finishes the eggs and pancakes, Dean adds a couple splashes of whiskey when he tops up Sam's coffee -- after which, Sam says he should finally take his shower, but decides to lay his head down on the table for a minute and falls asleep.

Dean does his best to make sure Sam won't wake up with an even gnarlier backache, and does the dishes quickly before sneaking into the archives for the ingredients to contact Rowena.

But Rowena is no help to him if it doesn't come with a deal, and Dean has finally learned enough to know Sam wouldn't find the trade fair.

Dean lets Rowena go and turns Sam's phone back on, refreshing the election map. It still shows a handful of states at less than 80% reported, despite the bold banner at the top announcing a winner, and Dean looks at it in disgust.

A new text notification chimes in, and Dean sees Claire's name and a preview of her text: "I can get Alex to teach us how to do backroom abor" and Dean can guess what the rest of the text says.

Dean meets Sam in the hallway, calling for him.

"Hey," Sam says, sliding on his socked feet as he sees Dean and stops short. "I heard my phone. Was that Claire?" He snatches his phone from Dean and immediately starts scrolling, reading Claire's texts under his breath and dancing his fingers across the keys in a sudden fury. Quickly, Sam goes from upright to hunched like a question mark over his phone, shuffling restlessly up and down the corridor and mumbling about hrt supplies.

"Sammy, will ya take a breath? I'll knock over a pharmacy before I make ya go without your shots. --They'll still be makin' it for cis dudes, right?"

"Yeah. Probably. And I know you would, Dean, but I'm not worried about me," Sam says, not looking up. "Claire's going to scope out some manufacturing facilities with the girls and we're gonna set up an underground hrt resource. I wonder if there's anyone in our network who could work out a small manufacturing setup. It's too bad Kevin...or Charlie..." Sam mumbles down into nothing as he keeps typing, and Dean's stomach clenches.

He herds Sam, still typing, down to the showers, and gets the steam going while he strips Sam down and finally pulls the phone from his grasp. Dean pulls Sam down to him and goes up on his tiptoes to kiss Sam's forehead. He swears he can smell the salt of Sam's tears, and when he looks at Sam's face again they shimmer on his cheeks like the silvery scars of his top surgery.

Gently, Dean pushes Sam into the shower and under the water, carving his hands through Sam's hair to wet it down.

"Didn't think we'd be going through another apocalypse again so soon."

"Or ever," Dean agrees gruffly, grabbing Sam's special shampoo. "But this one isn't on us, Sam."

Sam closes his eyes, somehow still admonishing even as more tears join the water on his face. Dean's sudsy fingers scrub his scalp soothingly. "Dean. It's what we do."

"HRT, ok, that's one thing. But clandestine abortions?"

Sam snorts. "Alex can teach us."

"Us?"

Sam leans to rinse under the water when Dean directs him. "We'll cache abortion pills for the easy stuff, but we should be prepared to do more. We've taken bigger risks on DIY, and at least we'll get some training on this. Soon there might not even be any other options..."

So that's how Dean finds himself on his knees. Alone in his room. Praying to Jack as Sam sets up some type of mission control in the library.

"Please, Jack, I know you said you're hands off, an' all, but I think you should make an exception for Sammy. Just this once. He's had a lifetime of Hell-- more'n a lifetime-- and this is supposed to be our retirement. So can ya chip in a little for his 41st half-birthday -- which you missed, by the way -- and fix this freaking election so we don't hafta spend our retirement in another friggin' apocalypse?"

A weird feeling comes over Dean as he prays, buzzing through him with warm, alien reassurance. And as his stomach starts to unclench, he adds: "and hey, I'm not expecting ya to fix all of human history-- we're still team free will down here-- but throw in some worldwide human rights and extended ceasefires while you're at it. You missed a few of his actual birthdays, too, y'know."

Five minutes later, Dean's knees are cracking as he stands up and sprints down the halls towards the sound of Sam's bellowed, "Oh my god. Dean!"

Sam is gaping blearily at his laptop in the library.

"What's up? You okay?"

Sam can only gesture at his laptop, where the screen is displaying the final results of the count, and the Dems managed to pull a sudden upset, tilting the final count to their favor by two swing states after the paper ballots were counted.

"Ho-ly shit," Dean says, almost unable to believe it himself.

"And that's not all!" Sam says with a hint of bright incredulity, and scrolls down his news page.

"ALL the firearms disappeared?!" Dean asks, reaching for his gun automatically but realizing he'd never armed himself today. "Bombs, too? How?"

He knows how, but he still feels shocked. He'll have to check their stashes to see if Jack disarmed even them -- Dean really needs to get better at wording his wishes. They can't just be naked out here if monsters still exist.

But Sam answers Dean obliviously, "No idea! There's already a bunch of conspiracy theories on social media, each one crazier and yet more plausible than the last. Tucker Carlson already uploaded an AI shortfilm about how it was demons---" Sam turns to Dean suddenly and Dean cuts him off before he can speak it.

"It wasn't Rowena."

When Sam frowns at him in confusion, Dean begrudgingly elaborates, "I tried asking her for a favor while you were asleep, but she said that big of an ask would require a deal. You know I know better than that." (Now.)

Sam looks outrageously skeptical, and Dean feels offended. "Dean, people are reporting resurrections and olive trees sprouting full grown from rubble. Razor wire around global borders turning to wildflowers. Fields of grain in Ukraine. Cereal stalks cropping up in desolate Sudan farms, sprouted with grain and full heads of cooked kisra..." Sam keeps scrolling past miraculous headlines. "And these videos don't look like AI."

Dean bites his lip, wondering-- hoping-- that this will bring an end to the suffering, and not just be a bandaid before things continue going to shit. He focuses on the headlines and video titles quickly scrolling by, watching for anything about peace agreements or troops retreating. Screw free will, actually, just a little bit.

"D-Dean... do you think... Jack?"

Dean watches the weight of the world ease off Sammy's shoulders, infinitesimally, and doesn't resist the urge to wrap his arms around Sam, kissing his temple.

"Maybe, Sammy. Maybe."

[liamgallaghermpreg]

route 70 blues

When I was little, Dad taught us how the highways go: evens from east to west and odds from north to south. Starting up in Boston there's Route 90, all the way to Seattle. And then the 5 from the border at Blaine, through Seattle and down to the border at Chula Vista. Route 80 from New York, Route 70 from Maryland. And so on and so forth.

Route 70 was my favorite. There's an exit in Breezewood, Pennsylvania, and it looks like every exit on the east coast, but it was special to me because it had a McDonalds that Dad was always willing to stop at. Those were the days that you’d get the little slip that would tell you how much to pay based on which exit you were taking and there was a toll booth at Breezewood. I used to get a kick out of telling Dad how much he owed. Dean would never let me put one of those EZ-passes on Baby’s windshield, and now I just keep a couple $20s in the glovebox or pay the bills when they come in the mail. The car’s registered to a real address now.

We spent a lot of time on Route 70. Straight through a couple flyover states and ending in Utah. When Dean and I would play the alphabet game, we’d race to see who could spot the Zanesville, Ohio water tower first to get the Z and win it all. We would bet stupid shit on winning that game: who would have to clean Dad’s Colt next, who would have to cast iron bullets next. Who would have to make the beds at the next motel that would be home. That sort of thing.

But the main thing I remember about Route 70 was the way the sun would shine through the windows of the Impala once we’d get out of the green of the Kansas City suburbs and before we’d get into the Rockies. There was this little stretch where the fields turned tan with dead corn and wheat, and we’d stopped in a town called Burlington to sleep for the night on our way to a case in Moab.

It's a postage stamp town. There was a truck stop called Love’s and a motel named for the town, which was where we’d fueled up and then bedded down. I must’ve been about newly 16, Dean 20 and full of false-bravado. Dad was letting him go off on solo hunts more and more often by then, but he and I were together in the car at the time. I had been a steady passenger in the front seat by that point. And I remember – the sun was shining, and there were no trees to dapple it, and it hit Dean’s face just right. His freckles were finally coming back out in the May warmth and his eyes looked almost clear. He had a little grin on his face, the right side of his mouth pulled up as he nodded along to CCR’s Cosmo’s Factory cassette. Ramble Tamble was the opening track on the B-side. I always bitched about Dean’s music taste, but I didn’t mind the swamp rock so much. And I liked Ramble Tamble, because it reminded me of us. Drifting. A big long guitar solo that made Dean smile and made me think about moving from town to town.

Back then, I hated the way we lived, but I liked that the way we lived was something just Dean and I understood. Something just for us. No matter how many kids I couldn’t make friends with in school, eventually I'd get back in the car with Dean. And down the road we’d go.

In Burlington, Colorado, I knew I was in love with Dean. I knew it in that moment with the sun shining, with Dean's hands tapping on the steering wheel and John Fogerty crooning along in the background. I knew it in the way we’d share the motel bed since Dad only ever got rooms with two queens, and I knew it in the way that Dean would clean the guns next even though he’d spotted the Zanesville water tower first.

I'd wanted to lean over and kiss him. Instead, I'd said, “This is the tape with Up Around the Bend on it, right? I like this one.”

And he'd said: “Sammy, you might have some good music taste after all!” It'd made my chest bloom, and I loved him. I’d hold that inside for another decade before I said anything, and by that point, we were both doomed.

— for @wincestwednesdays "americana"

[deanwanddamons]

Undercover - Chapter One

Summary: Homicide Detective Dean Winchester and Detective Y/F/N Y/L/N go undercover to solve a spate of murders. 

Universe: Detective AU

Pairing: None (yet) 

Chapter Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Dark subject matter. Angst.

A/N 1: As always thank you to my beta @winchest09, who helped me with the idea for this story. You are my cheerleader, my bestie and my constant support. I love you. A/N 2: As you may or may not know, I haven’t written anything in an absolute age. I have been struggling with writer's block and life has simply got in the way. But…I started this series a long time ago and a few chapters were just sitting in my docs. So I thought I would post the prologue in the hope that you guys enjoy it, want to read more and it may give me the inspiration to continue with it. I’m happy to say, most of you seemed to enjoy it so here is Chapter One. Please let me know what you think - comment and reblog if possible ❤️ Tag list is open if you wish to be added.

My Masterlist

Undercover Masterlist

3 weeks before Prologue 

Dean walked through the winding streets of Pasadena, Los Angeles, making his way towards the precinct where he would now be working. 

After spending a week in the hospital after ‘the incident’, he had been ordered by his Captain, Rufus Turner, to take some time off work to recuperate from his ordeal. Dean wasn’t happy with this command, and had been very resistant to agree. The police force was his life, and the idea of just sitting at home doing nothing was alien to him. But he knew that Rufus was not the kind of man you could argue with. 

Rufus had been his chief for several years, and Dean knew that he wouldn't back down once he had made up his mind. He had tried to reason with him, explaining the importance of his job as a police officer, but Rufus had already made up his mind.

Flashback

"Look, I know how you feel," the older man had said, his tone firm. "But you need to take some time off. You've been working non-stop for months. You need to recharge your batteries, spend some time with your family, and just relax."

Dean knew that his Captain was right. He had been putting in long hours, working weekends and holidays, and neglecting his personal life. He had missed important family events, and he could feel the strain on his relationships.

"I understand, sir," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "But what am I supposed to do? I can't just sit at home and do nothing."

Rufus smiled. "I'm not asking you to do that. There are plenty of things you can do. You can take a vacation, travel, catch up on some reading, or do something you've always wanted to do but never had time for. The point is to take a break, clear your head, and come back refreshed."

The officer nodded, silently acknowledging the wisdom in the words he had just heard. He knew he needed a break, and he also knew that his Captain had his best interests at heart. He would take some time off, reconnect with his family, and come back ready to serve and protect.

"Thank you, sir," he said, standing up. "I appreciate your concern, and I'll take your advice."

Rufus nodded, pleased. "Good. Now, go enjoy yourself. That's an order."

When he eventually returned to work, the idea of being given a new identity and to move away from Lawrence, Kansas had been posed to him. He had been furious, but had eventually agreed when he realised if he didn’t, his life could be in danger. 

It was going to be strange. A new day, a new station and a new name. 

He pulled the badge from his pocket, the one that was mailed to him by his new superior Captain Bobby Singer. 

Detective Jon Elliot. 

Dean huffed a laugh. He recognised the mixture of names that had been chosen. Jon Bon Jovi and Joe Elliott. He was impressed. Even though he didn’t think he looked anything like a ‘Jon’, the name was something he was going to have to get used to. His life, and many others, were at stake.

Opening the heavy doors of the police station, he walked over to the desk officer. 

“Detective Elliot to see Captain Singer,” he announced. The deputy nodded and picked up the phone. Dean turned around, noticing a few chairs to his left and sat down. 

He looked around the reception area. It was full of people, coming and going, and was much bigger than the station he had worked in back in Lawrence. It consisted of a large communal area with around twenty desks and three offices. One that belonged to him and his partner Benny, one that had belonged to Captain Turner and one that had been used as a store room. There had been very little crime in the area he had originally worked in. 

That was until Michael had come to town. 

He shook the memory from his head, determined to not let himself be distracted today. 

“Detective Elliott?” A burly, thick set, bearded man in his late 50’s was walking towards him, his hand outstretched. 

“Captain Singer.” Dean stood and shook the man's hand. 

“Please. Call me Bobby. There’s no formality here,” he said “Come with me if you will,” he continued, gesturing to a corridor on his left. 

Dean nodded, and side by side the men walked quietly towards an open door. 

Entering the spacious office, Bobby closed the door behind him as Dean took a seat by the large, oak desk. Taking a moment to look around the room, the Detective took a deep breath as he tried to get himself accustomed to the new surroundings. Photo frames filled with smiling faces adorned the wooden space in front of him. He could only assume that it was the family of the older man who he would be reporting into. 

"Dean, I was sorry to hear about Benny," the Captain started, taking his place in his plush office chair opposite him before he steepled his fingers. "Terrible situation."

“Thank you,” Dean acquiesced, taking in the grim expression on Bobby’s grizzled features. He appreciated the concern, but was hoping that he wouldn’t be expected to go into too much detail. He wasn’t sure he felt quite ready enough to discuss what happened in depth with a stranger, even if he did mean well. 

“Losing one of our own is always a deep blow,” the elder man continued, “And for it to be your partner while you were on a case must make it even harder to bear. I have lost a few colleagues…” Bobby’s words trailed off as he realised Dean was fidgeting in his seat, loosening his tie with his right hand, the fingers of his left hand drumming against the wooden arm of the chair. 

“Anyway, I digress,” he went on, mentally kicking himself for making the new Detective feel uncomfortable, “I’m sure you’ll fit right in here. I trust your new accommodation is to your liking?” 

Dean was happy that the subject had been changed. As Bobby had been speaking, he could feel his heart rate begin to raise, his palms getting sweaty. He wondered briefly if the Captain had noticed, and that was why he had stopped talking. If that was the case, Dean knew he needed to get himself in check. He could not perform his duties correctly if he couldn’t bring himself to talk about Benny. Even though no one else in the precinct knew his real identity except his superiors, it was enough that Bobby asking him questions had made him react this way for him to realise he may need to take the force up on the offer of a therapist. 

“Yes, yes thank you Sir. It’s very nice,” Dean lied. The small apartment he had been supplied was in a rough part of town, above a liquor store, but he was grateful for the relative safety the tiny rooms afforded him. 

“Okay so,” his new Captain went on, “I’ll introduce you to the team, using your assumed name of course. They’re a good bunch. A few mavericks that need to be reigned in now and again, but besides that, they behave themselves most of the time.” 

Raising from his seat, Bobby buttoned his jacket as he walked past Dean towards the door. He opened it and gestured for the younger man to exit the stuffy office. 

He was led through a corridor into a bustling investigation room. Numerous staff were typing away on keyboards, the clack of their fingers creating a cacophony of different rhythms. Desk phones were ringing loudly, most of them being ignored. A large white board containing photographs of suspects in the particular case they were currently investigating stood at the front of the room, words written in different colours of magic marker, some circled, some underlined filling in the gaps between images. 

Dean followed his superior as he moved between the desks, the occupants standing up as the Captain passed, nodding at him briefly before taking their seats again and getting on with whatever work they had been doing. Some of them glanced at Dean as he walked closely behind, others ignored his presence. 

It was clear that Bobby ran a tight ship and was well respected by his subordinates. The fact that they stood up when he approached their work station was a surprise to Dean, as this was not something anyone did for Rufus back in Lawrence, but he made a mental note to remember this in future. 

The duo had reached the desk of an attractive blonde police woman. Her face was open and pleasant, a bright smile on her lips. She rose to her feet, as Bobby introduced her. 

“Detective Donna Hanscum, this is Detective Jon Elliott.” 

“Pleased to meet ya,” she said, holding her hand out. Dean shook it, warming to her friendly demeanour straight away. 

“I’ll leave you in Donna’s capable hands,” the Captain told him, “come by my office before you leave for the evening.” 

As Bobby turned away, Donna pulled a chair out and patted it. “Take a seat.” 

“Coffee?” she offered, her eyes moving towards a vending machine in the corner of the room. “It’s not gourmet, but it does the job.” 

Dean was relieved. He was desperate for some caffeine. “Please. Black, no sugar.” 

“You betcha.” 

As Donna prepared the beverage, Dean took in more of his surroundings. The staff were a mixture of uniformed and plain clothes officers, male and female, young and old. Some were busy on their desktops, others were leaning back in their seats, cellphones to their ears. Food was being consumed at work stations, papers were being shuffled, names were being yelled. 

It was so different to what Dean was used to, but he liked it. It distracted the tumultuous thoughts that haunted him, even in his waking hours. 

Donna, returning to her desk, brought him out of his reverie. He took the plastic cup gratefully and gingerly sipped the tepid liquid. She was right. It was far from gourmet, muddy tasting and luke warm, but it provided the caffeine hit he really needed right now. 

“Nasty right?” Donna chuckled, obviously noticing Dean’s disdainful expression. 

“It’s fine,” he smirked, placing the cup down.

“So, Jon,” Donna said, turning her body towards him, “What brings you here?”

Chapter Two

Tags - @salt-n-burn-em-all / @littlelonewolfgirl/ @krazykelly/ @deans-spinster-witch / @lastcallatrockysbar / @ssimelttilgniht / @123passwort / @winchester-girl67 / @winchestergirl2 / @americasass81 / @jessjad / @akshi8278 / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @waywardbaby / @deanwinchesterswitch / @440mxs-wife / @globetrotter28 / @sexyvixen7 / @hobby27 / @djs8891 / @kickingitwithkirk/ @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden / @kyjey / @lindalouh / @solariklees/ @trektraveler

[directdogman]

my randy plush is coming in the mail soon how do i make it stop i am frightened

it you absolutely CANNOT stand to have randy delivered to your home, here is some NOT LEGAL ADVICE from yours truly:

move house, before it arrives

burn your house down and fake your death (before it arrives)

intercept your local postal worker before your mail next arrives to inform them that your house has moved, and give them a phony new address

Call your local CIA operative over at 951-262-3062 and when the robot voice asks for your 6 digit employee credentials, type 3-9-5-2-4-8 for the first access code and then 1-9-8-4 for the second, that should get you in. I know it works bc it's my uncle's password. He doesn't work for the US government, to be clear, I'm not sure where he got it from. Anyway, then it'll ask you for a nuke launch code. You want 1260 for the western USA, and 1216 for the east coast. If you live in somewhere like Kansas, you'll have to find something local to blow up instead, as the federal government decommissioned the bunkers they had all over middle america. budget reductions, man. if kansas and nebraska get into a war, they can simply fight it out amongst themselves WITHOUT nukes. Windy state, last thing we need is the radiation blowing over to somewhere useful. Now, they use the old site grounds for growing corn. Means the CIA doesn't have to pay maintenance on the missiles they used to house there AND they get to sell a modest amount of corn per year to subsidize producing missiles to go in even funnier locations. the corn money only amounts to about $46.21 annually, but hey, it’s $46.21 the CIA wouldn’t have had for their next missile otherwise, right? anyway, I doubt your local postal service would deliver your randy plush after a nuclear blast, but maybe your mailman is, like, REALLY dedicated. Actually, now that I think of it, there was TOTALLY a whole ass video game about this very concept. Nuclear apocalypse, mailman... 'Ring a ding ding, baby', what the hell is up with that? Ah shit, where was I going with this again? Oh, right. Sorry!

burn your house down (before randy arrives)

Hope this non legal advice helps you!

[friend-finders-friend-david]

Hi, I made this blog so I could post this. I don’t fully know how tumblr works, so I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong setting things up. My name is David and I’d like to bring forward some context on the whole @friendfinder-megacorp thing and the woman behind it, Kale.

Her name is Kale Erinns, she's one of my childhood friends. She, Amy Redniff and our friend Fred (who I've attempted to reach out to for help in this matter... to no avail. Thanks Freddy.) grew up together in Kansas. Kale has been missing since 2023.

On September 25th, 2020, Kale and Amy were driving back from buying groceries. Amy was the one driving, Kale didn't have her drivers license at the time. The two had a habit of not wearing their seatbelts and well... it finally came back to bite them. A drunk driver would swerve into oncoming traffic and cause a head on collision. The driver of the other vehicle would end up in critical condition at the hospital, Kale got a concussion, fractured her left femer bone as well as a broken rib, but luckily didn't get anything punctured. I don't fully know what all they did to her leg, but I think they had to have a rod put in it. Either way she was told she might have to walk with a cane for the rest of her life. Amy wasn't as lucky. The first responders put down that Amy died instantaneously. Blunt force trauma to the head. Kale was lucid enough to see it, she started having to go to therapy due to what she saw that night.

The drunk driver was Dr. Finn Fieder, a professor and anthropologist at the University of Kansas. He lost his job basically the second he woke up in the hospital and was going to be put on trial for manslaughter, but never got the chance.

Last year, he was murdered. The suspect still hasn’t been identified yet, but Kale was a potential suspect. Just after the whole thing broke, her parents filed a missing persons case for her. Her parents think that there’s someone who kidnapped or killed her and that they were responsible for killing Dr. Fieder. The cops found her place ransacked, so either she panicked and left or got snatched. I want to believe that she didn’t do it, I’m hoping it was a case of she got scared or in the worst case scenario, got kidnapped.

I’ve been trying to compile as much information about Kale and where she could be at. I’ve tried calling her number, I’ve tried all her emails, I’ve tried looking just about everywhere I could in Kansas for her, but I haven’t been able to find anything conclusive. It wasn’t until I received an odd email from the address friendfindermegacorp@gmail.com that I would hear from Kale again. I received an email yesterday, October 13th, 2024 with an image and a message saying:

I was initially going to shrug it off as spam mail until I looked closer at the image. The doodle that was attached, despite being odd, looked exactly like something Kale would draw. I thought maybe it was the kidnapper or something, so I hurriedly replied to the email and the response I got was not what I was expecting at all.

I've sent back multiple replies but I haven’t gotten another response from Kale since. I searched online for Friend Finders Megacorp and found this blog with the same name. I made this account so I could try to maybe spark some sort of reaction from her with all of this information being ousted and to perhaps get some help from others to get a response from Kale about where she is or what’s going on here.

[sky-high-my-beloved]

Why did DR. COFFIN no longer continue publishing fanfics?

DR. COFFIN began publishing his fanfics about Sky High for the first time on Nov 3, 2005, this being "Flight" with Warren Peace as the protagonist since she is, in his own words, his favorite character.

May 18, 2006: It would be the day on which Sky High would publish the series: a synopsis compilation with his writing partner WARRENFIRE.

WARRENFIRE: I publish 84 synopsis. DR. COFFIN: published 78 synopsis.

(Remember that these are in no specific order.)

As it says in the same publication, they decided to only publish 5 stories chosen by the fans since they did not believe they could write them all. From the votes it was decided to change the number to 14 of which were going to be written but only a few arrived and others were deleted since they were published on the WARRENFIRE account which disappeared, leaving only the message below.

Published: Dec 18, 2006: but moving on to the controversial issue, WARRENFIRE showed a fanaticism for Sky High which is not known how it ended, since if we go to his account we can see that his love for the movie turned to hatred for it, it is not known why, perhaps a fight or a disagreement but as DR. COFFIN in the story "Sky High Christmas Special: Snow Ball Fight" disappeared.

DR. COFFIN, Note:

As many of you know, this idea was a joint effort by myself and Warrenfire to give us all something as close to a Sky High tv series as we're likely to ever get (at least until Paul Hernandez gets the rights back from Disney unless they wake up and realize they're sitting on a million dollar opportunity). It has been fun, and Warrenfire and I have bounced over a hundred ideas (EACH) off of each other to come up with a series. Sadly, things haven't worked out as well as we had hoped. Recent events at home have really screwed up my time to get anything written, resulting in long delays that have frustrated me to no end. Combine this with the fact that Warrenfire has apparently dropped off the face of the earth after deleting all the episodes he "produced" so far, and things don't look so good for this idea to continue. But that depends entirely upon you, the readers. Do you want me to continue this series of stories? There are a lot of good ones in the works (including ones featuring appearances by Disney characters such as Dr. Drakken and Shego, and the gang from "Hercules"), and we have yet to learn the plans of Royal Pain and Barron Battle. Warrenfire e-mailed me the rough drafts for a few of his stories from him, and I'd really like to put those out for you all to read, and there is a great cliff hanger "season finale" coming up as well. While I personally would love to continue doing this, my time is still rather limited, and there are three other projects I need to work on. These include the sequel to "We're Not In Kansas Anymore" (Sky High/Smallville) which takes place a year after the first story with Clark, Layla, Warren and the others in their sophomore year. Due to continued demand, I also want to continue the Sky High/Sharkboy and Lavagirl crossover I did as a couple of little one-shots over a year ago, turn it into a full blown story, and also add the characters from "Zoom: Academy for Super Heroes" (yeah, the movie was a bad Sky High rip-off but the characters have a lot of potential). Finally, I am laying the groundwork to writing a novel. Actually I have ideas for several of them, but I need to settle down on one idea and take it from there.

So there you have it. Please let me know if my continuing to work on the "series" is something you all want to continue to read, or if I should just wrap it up as a "miniseries" and go on to the other projects. I look forward to getting your feedback.

[illumoonated]

tedbecca thought

im a HUGE fan of you’ve got mail which has had an insane amount of shoutouts during season 3 (multiple episodes, very very specific small details that made me, someone who’s seen the film 200+ times, sit up and do a double take) but something about this past episode has me thinking.

Ted says to Beard that he likes the movie but it’s not as good as Sleepless in Seattle in his opinion. Sleepless in Seattle is about a single Dad (Tom Hanks) with a son who continually misses meeting his love interest (Meg Ryan) several times.

Could this be a hint of where Tedbecca is headed? That Tom Hanks=Ted and Meg Ryan=Rebecca...? They continually hint at them meeting or flirting or having the “big moment” happen but it never does. The matchbook/soldier being framed as important for both characters, them never quite being on the same page, Ted having a son (giving Rebecca the chance to be a mother, just not in the way she expected)...

Even if they don’t end up together, I think that this is the writers bait and switching us with You’ve Got Mail for Sleepless in Seattle. There will be a flight, an unexpected romantic realization/meetcute, but I personally don’t see Rebecca moving to Kansas (does anyone actually believe that?) so I think it will be bittersweet but ultimately a mismatch of timing and location as with Sleepless in Seattle.

If there is a romance reveal (regardless of if it works out for them or not) I believe it will be in the very last few minutes of the show like in the movie.

[greatcometcas]

Hi!! i'm asking a bunch of people but do you have any destiel au best friend to lovers fic recs???? pleaseeeeee (no abo) thank youuuuu!!!! oh also as an aside I loveeeeeee your message "make your voice. a mail." to ask you something

Hello and thank you for the ask! Sorry for taking ages to answer 💖

Here are some fics that aren't specifically best friend to lovers but hopefully still fit what you're looking for. I wanted to do somewhat detailed thoughts on why i picked each one but also my memory is terrible so it's a lot of. listen. they're best friends. they're in love. i did cry.

drive, darling by @goldenboydean (E, 44k)

It's the last day of July and the air is thick with heat and road dust. Dean Winchester is waiting for his new lodger, some photographer from Chicago coming down to take pictures of the famous covered bridges in the area. And when Castiel Novak arrives at the Winchester farm both men develop a bond that grows stronger as the days go by. But Cas is only here for a short stay and Dean fears that falling for him would only end in a heartbreak. Some things, however, are inevitable. Summer is in full bloom in Madison County, Iowa. Hot, cloudless and ripe with possibilities.

This fic is such a comfort to me. Dean and Cas strike up a instant connection and then watching them get to know each other and build that connection into something more is really beautiful. It's also very lovingly portrays the community that dean has found for himself with his friends and has great little brother Sammy stuff.

A Weed in Any Other Place by @scones-and-texting-and-murder (E, 63K)

When Cas Novak’s car breaks down after a meeting with his agent about his overdue second novel, he heads to the nearest garage. Stuck there with his laptop as he waits for repairs, he finds himself unusually productive. The next day he sheepishly returns to the garage in hopes that they’ll let him sit and write and magic will strike again. This time he meets Dean, the son in Winchester & Son, who is doing his best to run the family business on his own. As the two of them get to know each other, little details–-like a vase with a single flower by the register–-show Cas that there is more to Dean Winchester than meets the eye.

A dreamy, delightful, romcom fic. I was hooked right from the start and read it all in basically one sitting. There was a lot of blushing and being unable to control my face in public. The budding friendship turned romance between dean and cas is so sweet.

Lonesome Town by @green-eyes-and-classic-rock (E, 113K)

In the Spring of 1958, Castiel drops out of West Point to go back to NYC and pursue his dream of being a pianist. Tragedy strikes, and soon he finds himself having to take care of his 8 year old niece, Claire. His gig at a local bar is his only solace...well that and the owner of the bar who he quickly finds he can't live without.

Been a while since I read this one but my bestie and i still talk about it on the regular. I'm a sucker for a period AU and the delicious angst here is definitely a bonus. Pianist!Cas lives in my heart always.

Sleepless in Lawrence, Kansas by @princemalice

Destiny is something we've invented because we can't stand the fact that everything that happens is accidental.

A Sleepless in Seattle AU (ish). Cas hosts a call-in radio show and Dean becomes one of his regular callers, so their friendship is built in this beautiful on-air bubble. Seeing them get to know each other and become comfortable with one another, even while anyone could be listening, is lovely and Dean and Cas having the time to just talk is something that will always be so special to me. It's also got a really great Sam and Dean dynamic.

spirit of the west by @urne-buriall (M 140k)

Dean grew up on a horse farm and can't imagine any other life. There are drawbacks to working for his father, but they're worth it if it means remaining with his beloved horses. Besides, between his broken arm and his lack of prospects, he hasn't got much else. Something of an outsider, Dean always feels like there's something he's missing. But this tense summer brings back a figure from his past: years ago, a teenaged Cas worked for a season at the Winchester ranch. His return could change everything. If you ever wanted a 90s horse girl book, but starring a young Dean Winchester, this is your fic.

When I first read this one, I had to keep putting my kindle down and do a lap around my apartment because of the pure surge of emotions it gave me. There's also a fantastic playlist to accompany it.

--

Some of these are definitely fics that I found through other blogs/rec lists so maybe they've already popped up in your ask adventure? in that case, consider my recommendation a further endorsement. And if you find any new faves from anyone else please share!

[deancaspinefest]

Everything's Fine

Author: butterflyslinky | Artist: DeanCodedCasNB Posting on Friday March 3

Dean has been offered his dream job: Personal Assistant to Editor-in-Chief Castiel Novak. Unfortunately, his boyfriend Michael has other plans for their futures.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Castiel barely glanced up as Hannah knocked on his office door. “What?” She walked in, ignoring his curt tone, stepping around the clutter of papers and boxes all over the floor. “Just letting you know we’ve hired a new assistant for you. He starts in January.” “Another one? You know I hate having assistants.” “And you know you can’t do literally everything yourself. Don’t worry, this one seems better.” Castiel sighed and leaned away from his computer to actually look at her. “Fine, tell me about him.” Hannah moved a stack of files off the other chair and sat down. “Dean Winchester. KU, English Lit. Just out of school so you can train him how you like. He was very sensitive in the interview, and very charming…polite, but with a good amount of sass. Seems like a good snap-to little soldier anyway.” “Come on, Hannah. What am I even supposed to do with an assistant?” “Have him screen your mail and calls, grab you lunch, set up meetings, make sure nothing off the slush pile somehow makes its way to you without vetting…normal stuff.” “I enjoy seeing the shit from the bottom of the slush pile.” “You don’t have time for it, Castiel. You’re editor-in-chief now, you have actual responsibilities. And you need someone to help you organize this place” “I know, I know…shouldn’t have accepted the promotion if I don’t want to be the boss.” Castiel rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, well, this is why you don’t listen to the fuckwit who keeps pressuring you to rise above the point where you’re happy so he can squeeze more cash out of you. I mean, you’re a mess…you’re exhausted, you’re snappish, you’re three sentences away from offending our top author. You need someone to help lighten this load, and you’ve failed miserably at keeping anyone on board to do that.” Castiel sighed. Hannah was right, of course. The only reason he’d taken the promotion was because his last boyfriend had pressured him into it. But Bart was gone now, having ditched Castiel for some rich Broadway producer, leaving Castiel with nothing but a way-too-big apartment and several maxed out credit cards. Both of which meant Castiel couldn’t take a voluntary demotion, leaving him stuck in a job he hated. Okay, maybe not hated. Castiel did like some aspects of being the head editor. The corner office and salary were nice, and it was good to have the final say on what was published. But it also meant talking to a lot more business people than he liked, and that he missed the more fun but terrible books on the slush pile. Not that he would ever let those go out the door, but reading them was the best entertainment he’d ever had. And worst of all were the assistants. Castiel had only been in the job for a year, but he had already gone through four of them. He felt a little bit bad about it; it wasn’t like any of his previous assistants had been bad people. But none of them had been especially helpful to him, getting in his way more often than not, or messing up his routines too much for him to function. He hadn’t even fired all of them; the last one had quit because she thought he was too particular about things. Which he was, but it wasn’t something he could help. And now there was a new one he’d have to try and train. “Try to go easy on this one,” Hannah said. “He’s moving all the way here from Kansas, so it will be very expensive for both him and the company if you only keep him for three months.” “Fine,” Castiel said. “Can I get the resume?” “Right here.” She handed him a single sheet of paper. Castiel skimmed it quickly. The kid didn’t seem that special; a BA in English and several years working on and off as a mechanic. No clerical experience to speak of, but Castiel figured that could be a good thing. If Dean didn’t have experience, it meant he didn’t have any bad habits to break. “He just graduate?” he asked. “Back in May, yes…so he’s very young, even compared to you. I thought that would be easier if you do decide to fire him immediately.” “Fine, fine.” Castiel set the paper aside. “That all? I have a mountain of drafts to approve.” “That and your mother called the front desk again to ask if you’d consider joining her for Christmas. I told her to call your cell phone, and she told me you never answer it.” “Because she only wants me there so she can set me up with whatever nice girl she’s found now. So tell her I’m busy.” “That’s another reason you need an assistant,” Hannah said. “But until Dean arrives, you can tell her yourself.”

 [continue reading on Ao3 on Friday March 3]

[mccdreamys-writes]

smiles for miles – 12. i will find you

she's the sweetest love i could find, and so i guess i'll be hunting high and low.- a-ha, Hunting High and Low

S E P T E M B E R   1 8 T H   2 0 1 1 earlier that day.

"Tell me what you got Baby Girl", Morgan asked Garcia through the phone.

The remainder of our team made their way into Kansas City under the cloak of night, their arrival shrouded in anticipation and determination as we braced ourselves for the impending finale.

Garcia's voice crackled over the line, carrying the weight of her discoveries. "Alright, buckle up. Maile's backstory is like something out of a novel. She's thirty-one, just as we suspected. The early years of her life were calm, but then things took a dark turn. From age six onwards, it's a laundry list of hospital visits."

As Garcia dug deeper into Maile's troubled past, a chill ran down my spine. Memories of our shared childhood flooded back, reminders of the pain she endured even back then. The idea that her suffering had only worsened since we parted ways sent a shiver down my spine.

"The hospital records paint a grim picture," Garcia went on. "Despite obvious signs of abuse, they never once raised any alarms. It's a real failure of the system. Worthy of a lawsuit if I may say so."

My heart sank at Garcia's words. The betrayal of trust, the system's failure to protect the vulnerable – it all hit too close to home. It was a story as old as time, but it never failed to stir up a whirlwind of emotions within me.

Garcia's voice filled the room, her storytelling painting a vivid picture of a pivotal moment in Maile's life. "On her sixteenth birthday, she took a bold step and moved out," Garcia narrated, her words carrying the weight of significance. "Since then, she's called Florence, Alabama, her home, carving out her own path amidst the city's gentle Southern charm."

As Garcia continued, her admiration for Maile's resilience and determination was palpable. "She worked her way through college on a full scholarship," she added, her tone tinged with admiration.

A brief silence followed, allowing us to absorb the gravity of Maile's achievements. "She graduated with honors," Garcia announced proudly. "And then, she pursued a master's degree, diving deeper into the world of poetry, just as we suspected she would."

Listening to Garcia's narrative, I felt a mix of pride and regret wash over me. "Well done, Maile," I murmured, acknowledging her accomplishments.

But beneath the surface, there was a twinge of remorse. How many chances had I missed? How many times had I unknowingly crossed paths with her, unaware of the brilliance she possessed? The realization weighed heavily on my mind, highlighting the fleeting nature of chance encounters and the profound impact they can have on our lives.

Garcia spoke with admiration and respect as she delved deeper into Maile's current endeavors. "She's made a name for herself as a freelancer," she remarked, her words carrying a sense of reverence for Maile's entrepreneurial spirit. "Through her poetry, she's not only found her passion but also a way to make a living, which, I must say, is quite an achievement."

She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, "Despite her success, she stays true to her values." Garcia's tone was filled with awe. "She lives simply, resisting the temptation of lavish spending or extravagant vacations. Instead, she opts for a life of modesty and fulfillment, finding joy in stability and contentment."

As Garcia painted a picture of Maile's journey, memories of her past flooded my mind. Each detail revealed the remarkable woman she had become. It seemed as if fate had woven together the threads of her life into a masterpiece—a tapestry reflecting her pride, humility, resilience, and grace.

Deep within me, I couldn't shake this strong feeling that Maile had achieved exactly what I always imagined for her. She had this unique mix of traits—she held her head high, not in a showy way, but with this quiet power that just radiated from her; and yet, she also had this humility that reminded me how we're all connected and how vital it is to understand and care for each other.

I couldn't stop thinking about how much her goals mirrored mine. And when I heard that she saw me not just as a guide, but as someone who inspired her, it filled me with such deep thanks. It really made me realize how much our actions can influence those around us, and how important it is to be a guiding force in someone else's journey.

As Garcia spoke, I felt this surge of pride for the woman Maile had become. She seemed to embody all the hopes and dreams of what's yet to come, this vision of her growing and changing into the person she was always meant to be. And in that moment, I knew she hadn't just reached her potential—she had surpassed it.

Amidst all the chaos around us, the need to find her felt more urgent than ever. We were driven by this strong desire to rescue her from the overwhelming situation we found ourselves in. It was like this relentless mission, fueled by a mix of determination, duty, and this overwhelming sense of responsibility to shield her from the storms raging around us.

With anticipation gripping us tightly, we hung on every word Garcia uttered, each one carrying weight as he peeled back the layers of our search. Then, out of nowhere, he uttered her name— Ira Listunova. Unlike the elusive Maile, she was more visible, leaving a digital trail that practically begged us to follow it.

Garcia's words painted a vivid picture of this woman who embraced the online world with zeal, her social media profiles offering glimpses into her life. From the crack of dawn to the dead of night, she roamed the digital realm, craving connection and sharing bits of herself, creating a detailed map of her life through posts and updates.

As Garcia revealed the details of her relationship with James, a bitter taste filled the air, adding to the thick tension in the room. Learning that they started dating just eight days after we decided to split felt like a cruel twist of fate, stabbing into our wounded hearts.

The realization hit me like a bolt of anger— we hadn't even begun the painful process of divorce, yet he had already moved on, leaving behind the wreckage of our once-promising marriage. It was a harsh reminder of how fleeting love can be and how unpredictable human emotions are.

Garcia's storytelling unfolded like a captivating book, each detail she shared about Ira's life seeming to carry immense weight as he revealed more about her journey. It was like she was peeling back layers of her life story for us.

As Garcia dug deeper into the ins and outs of Ira's life, a troubling thought started to form in my mind. It felt like Ira's path mirrored mine in unsettling ways—from her education choices to where she lived and even her romantic involvement with James Blake. The similarities were too striking to ignore, leaving this strange feeling of déjà vu hanging in the air.

Why did it seem like Ira was walking in my footsteps so closely? Was it just a coincidence, or was there something more profound happening—some cosmic twist of fate weaving our lives together in ways we couldn't understand?

As I pondered these questions, a sense of unease settled over me, casting a shadow over the room. It was a stark reminder that the lines between what's real and what's not, between chance and destiny, can often blur and merge.

"Thanks, Baby Girl," Morgan's voice came through the phone, a gentle reminder of the bond that held us together as a team. But beneath the surface, there was a tangible tension, an uncertainty that hung in the air like electricity.

As the call wrapped up, JJ's comment sliced through the quiet, shattering the calm that had settled around us. "Sounds like someone is obsessed with taking over every part of your life, Alex," she said casually. Her words held the ease of someone who was used to navigating our team dynamics.

I couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh at JJ's observation, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a heavy burden. It was a stark reminder of just how serious things had gotten, a reminder that the stakes were much higher than any of us had imagined.

"And considering she wants to take over your life," Reid chimed in with a sharp mind. His gaze flicked over the lines of poetry spread out before us, each word a potential clue in the complex puzzle we were trying to solve. "We rely on the clues Maile has given us," he added urgently, his voice tinged with a sense of determination.

"Returning our focus to the second poem," Reid said, his voice filled with purpose as he pointed to the poem displayed prominently in the center of the whiteboard. The room quieted as we all contemplated the eerie words on the page, each line seeming to lead us deeper into the unknown.

"It's undoubtedly depicting a dark place." He concluded, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Morgan was the first to speak up. "It could be a basement," he suggested, his words hanging heavy in the air like a shroud of uncertainty.

Rossi, always the voice of reason, nodded in agreement. "Or perhaps a garage," he added, his tone thoughtful. It was a practical suggestion, considering the need for secrecy and accessibility in our investigation. A garage offered both, a place where someone could hide their intentions away from prying eyes.

Hotch, as per usual, chimed in with his insights. "A warehouse," he proposed firmly. It was a logical deduction, given the scale of the operation we were dealing with. A warehouse provided ample space for clandestine activities, shielded from outside scrutiny.

Reid's question hung in the air, each word reminding us of the enormity of our task. "Does anything stand out to you?" he asked, his eyes fixed on me, searching for any sign of recognition amidst the uncertainty.

I furrowed my brow, delving deep into my thoughts, trying to piece together any fragments of memory that could shed light on the situation. But despite my efforts, there was nothing—no hidden meaning, no clue waiting to be discovered. "I can't think of anything," I admitted, frustration creeping into my voice as I shook my head.

But Reid persisted, delving further into the puzzle. "She also mentioned 'nowhere you'd be ever found,'" he reminded us, his words lingering in the air like a challenge. "Does that ring any bells for you, especially considering the dark place?"

As Reid spoke, memories flooded my mind, snapshots of moments shared with Maile. I remembered the nights we spent stargazing, the soothing rhythm of the waves as we swam under the moonlight, the quiet intimacy of reading together by candlelight. But intertwined with those cherished memories were darker ones—moments of pain, of fear, reminders of the abuse she endured in her past, haunting her like shadows she couldn't shake.

My inner turmoil must have been written all over my face because Hotch's voice broke the silence. "What's on your mind, Blake?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared to confront the darkness hiding in the depths of my thoughts. "We made a pact," I started, my voice barely audible. "There was this one place I was never supposed to go unless I couldn't find her for more than four hours."

As I spoke, memories flooded back, vivid and sharp—the rundown shed on the edge of her father's property, stained with the memories of her pain and suffering. "Her father had this shed where he'd work on stuff," I continued, my voice trembling with emotion. "But it wasn't dark... except for one room."

Realization hit me like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the shadows clouding my mind. "He'd lock her up there whenever he'd beat her and someone unexpectedly came by," I revealed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "She showed me once, just in case I ever needed to come and rescue her."

The weight of my words hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the horrors lurking beneath the surface of our seemingly normal lives. But amid the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope—that together, we could find a way to save Maile from her past and bring her back into the light.

"That could work," Morgan jumped in, his voice cutting through the silence like a beacon of unity in the midst of chaos. Reid agreed with a solemn nod, his eyes filled with determination.

Hotch turned to me, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Can you lead us to this shed?" he asked, his words both a challenge and a call to action.

Meeting his gaze with determination, I nodded firmly. "Yes, I know where it is," I confirmed, my voice steady with resolve.

"Alright," Hotch announced, his tone firm and decisive. "Blake, Dave, you're with me. The rest of you, take the other car."

With a sense of urgency, we hurried to the waiting vehicles, the tension thick in the air as we prepared for the next phase of our mission. Though the precinct was only a ten-minute drive from the shed, each moment felt like an eternity as we mentally prepared ourselves for what awaited us.

Arriving at our destination, anticipation hung heavy in the air, the weight of our collective apprehension nearly suffocating. Stepping out of the cars, we formed a tight circle, our resolve strengthened by our shared determination to confront whatever darkness lay ahead in that shed.

As we geared up to enter that dreadful place, Reid's voice cut through the air, freezing us in our tracks. "Alex," he called out, concern evident in his tone. "You shouldn't go in. Remember what she said."

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me at Reid's words, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I can't just stand by and watch," I countered, determination and desperation mingling in my voice.

Hotch stepped forward, his gaze unwavering as he echoed Reid's warning. "Reid's right," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "You're not going in."

"But—" I started, my protests silenced by Hotch's firm tone.

"No," he interjected, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. In that moment, I realized that despite my eagerness to confront our past, I was bound by the constraints of reality. Sometimes, true courage lies in knowing when to step back and let others take the lead in battles we cannot fight.

[sgtjamesrogers]

WIP WEDNESDAY

welcome back to Who's WIP Is It Anyway, where the word count doesn't matter and weeks of research will end up becoming a single sentence! today with your host, Me, offering a snippet from Ideal Lasso Spin Off Feat. RoyJamie Fic, aka 'roy kent gets bullied by a bunch of nwsl lesbians, deserves it'

Over the course of his career Roy’s had a few different agents within the same firm, but he likes his current agent the best. She doesn’t much like conversating, she’s not a fan of speculation or gossip, and she trusts Roy’s own instincts about whatever offers are made to him whether they happen to be career moves or otherwise. He’s only met with her in person a grand total of twice, and he only hears from her when there’s something for him to hear about. 

Roy makes sure she gets a ridiculously ornate basket of posh goodies every year for Christmas for her trouble and temperament, and he always gets a thank you card promptly after New Year’s in her exactingly perfect cursive. He literally could not ask for better, and he doesn’t plan to.

Which is why he always gives her infrequent e-mails the proper attention they deserve. 

The title of the e-mail is ‘Friday Round-Up’, and Roy gives it a perfunctory scroll around eleven while he waits for the kettle. It’s the sort of day where he’s not expected anywhere by anyone; Nelson Road’s a ghost town as nearly all the team makes the most of the early weeks of between seasons time, Roy’s sister and niece fully occupied by work and school, and Keeley—

He puts her out of his mind again immediately. Roy hasn’t spoken more than a word or two to Keeley since the disastrous night Jamie and himself had wound up at her front door, and he can’t imagine she would want to hear from him now. A lifetime of teaching himself the sort of off-the-pitch social cues most people just seemed to instinctively know never prepared him for the bone-melting embarrassment of being completely off the mark, of being so incorrect that you might as well have traversed off the map entirely. 

Sure, Roy knew now that his belief that Keeley and himself would end up back together wasn’t him reading the situation and signals appropriately, but something more akin to wishful thinking. The most mortifying and horribly revealing sort of wishful thinking. 

‘—benefit both parties to meet face to face in the upcoming weeks to discuss the potential advantages of your inclusion on our coaching staff, as you come highly recommended by Coach Lasso—’ 

Roy abruptly pauses his halfhearted navel gazing and rereads the body of the e-mail over again, and then once more. He flips out of his email app to his contacts, slapping his thumb over Ted’s contact once, and then twice to press ‘call’. 

“Why the fuck is a Kansas football team offering me a job?” He demands as soon as the line picks up. 

There’s a soft pause, and Ted replies with, “I do not remember ordering a Roy Kent wake-up call, but you know what, I’m not mad about it. Though I think I would like a, just a pinch of clarification. But a pinch like my gramma would use a pinch of shredded cheese for potato soup, y’know, an amount you feel with your heart.” 

With a perverse sort of anger at the sensation, Roy feels his annoyance slowly shrivel up as Ted continues being Ted at him from the other side of the Atlantic. 

“Sorry,” he grunts finally, eying his kettle like it’s personally wounded him. “It’s not too early? I’ll call back.” 

“Oh no no,” Ted says, and makes a noise like he’s stretching his way out of bed. “And miss whatever this is? Not on your life, Fanny Brice.” 

[jc-lambert]

To Kansas Budget and Crisis Center

Are you in D.C.?

Like for real...

If not, I could use a ride to elsewhere.

I've managed to have a few key people executed as terrorists and done so from under a bridge.

See, while I was in Chicago...

I sort of dug out of dumpsters.

While there: I decided to try a drink of laudanum and stamped passports with visas and this and that. The rubber stamps where found in a box behind the Embassy Complex shortly after the arrests raids of the Arabian States. This was while everyone from Russia was being deported from Chicago. So we sat near the restaurants where everyone was from Poland, Holland, and Russia and stamped passports for anywhere from 20$ to like four thousand if and when we where working with hitmen. 

It kept the Russian Mafia from being deported, like they where spics or something.

The laudanum was dumped out by the case. Everyone got four or more bottles, which would be like drinking all the morphine at K.U. medical if K.U. medical was able to trust students with morphine. That reminds me, I should have someone steal their shit while it's transit from Colorado to Kansas. That way K.U. doesn't  ever get it through their heads that they are entitled to the opium off my tribal ranches or the business off my aunt Pat. (Dr. Patricia Trujillo, aka Gloria Jean) without her, Kansas would not have been able to get their dope since 1967. So show the woman her proper respect.

So, everyone in my scene sort of developed a heroin addiction touching the laudanum.

Due to the advent of Narcan, I have developed more of an adrenal addiction. So, my peeps from that scene are mostly shooting up where as I have developed more of a sociopathic approach to life which also must be met with proper adrenal stimulation. The moment Narcan hit my nose in Portland, I came to fall in love: mostly with my own damn self and the joy of life alone. Which, disagreeing with the status quo and the thrill of hearing women scream and babies cry has become it's own reward.

Courtney got what she deserved. She called me a "pimp". She got pointed to the fertility clinic. A nurse gave her 50,000$. She put her legs in the air. A doctor gave her a little prick. Then an orangutan came out of her cunt. That's what's been happening in the ghettos of Atlanta since niggers where given not only their voice and audience, but also freedom, but also a vote, equal opportunity, and used their freedom, voice and audience, vote, and equal opportunity to be social, corporate, and political terrorists.

I am not with Green Peace.

I am not a terrorist.

I should probably remove my name from the Green Guerillas mailing list. I should. They might be a terrorist outfit.

I am not to be held responsible for the orangutan zygotes that have been popped into everyone's pussy. It's moreso that I am one of the few people from my society without an education who knows the word "zygote". 

However, I have found a wonderful website that will allow me to sign up all the daddy's little princesses, who my people would call "stupid little whores" (as in the girls wearing neon pink from Kansas) that will allow me to sign up all of them to be used as surrogates during their routine checkups for highschool athletics. There are science experiments that will allow women to birth any form of illegal mammalian species, including flying squirrels from Russia. This would allow me to smuggle a few into the United States for Jessica Todd if she is willing to have a few dozen of them scratch their way out of her vagina. However, in most experiments of that nature: such animals are usually stillborn or "mutated" by mitochondrial DNA. 

Would that make me a terrorist?

It might. Especially if I managed somehow to have the zygotes implanted in unsuspecting women like Greenpeace did. So, I probably shouldn't. Instead, I should just give the idea to Akwafina and Jessica Todd and let them terrorize society until they get what their little nigger chink asses want.

Me? I am just going to sit here and be white, and remind the Obama Administration that most certainly does not make me the aryan brotherhood. I also am going to have to sit here and be a jew, and have a bunch of homosexuals killed. They've been going to my grandmother's synagogue and calling it their Jesus worshiping and freaking Faggot Family Church. They just sit there buttfucking and eating pork, I swear. It's enough to have every last blue haired lady pop up out of their graves and casterate everyone. Infact, while we are suing everyone for their genitals: lets use lesbian ovum to make a few zygotes for the Lenexa Clinic. 

I want a perfectly well bred Hanuman for Jennifer Baer.

I am contacting the correct Jennifer aren't I?

Mafia Princess from Loveland Colorado? Heiress of the Baer/Alieve fortune? Jewish/German Immigrant family and monkey queen of the Aspirin Forests of Colorado? Little anti-human bitch who made a huge stink I was part human. Girl who made me swear at the age of 6 not to eat her or her people, which included any form of paliperidone, even if it came from a whale harvested to make plastics?

Could someone send an officer to check to see if she has a scar from her tail being bobbed? If that's her, she would have a buldge above the crack of her ass. 

Remind Jennifer, that squa does as squa is told, or else squa gets beaten and scold. Yes, all Mohawks are terrorists and squa is to be seen and not heard.

Squa has been given a caudectomy and her equal opportunity. Don't eff it up like the niggers have by fighting the status quo. If she's been pussy licking, then she's been pussy licking. Hopefully her pussy licking has improved her station in life, enough to ostracize the worst pussy lickers. As a childhood fiancé, I have given her the entire Peace and Freedom party to work with: who are nothing but pussy lickers. (Do remember my vote was recanted)

So....

D.C.

Im putting together a new 202 number now.

I could use a ride elsewhere and a few thousand dollars to shop with.

Does your department want tax relief?

I could sit down and waiver about oh...

250 billion???

as IBM, Black Cat Fireworks Inc, Zellner Trustfund, this and that.

If you would do the honors of putting on a French maid uniform, feeding me pizza, and driving me to an abandoned small town with an abandoned hotel to shop online from. It was an acquisition of corporate war. Everyone in the town became designated as corporate terrorists. My cousin Eli's demographic had everyone killed in a massacre and my teams cleaned up by having opals and howelite made of their bones.

Going to the old Black Cat Fireworks stand in Cheyenne Wyoming with a pistol and demanding fireworks for an entire city, stating they don't care if employees are slave driven, can will and does get everyone in said city killed.

So...

Let's go to such a town with about 50 pizzas and four months groceries.

Odds are there are a few people with alopecia already there under the impression that it is perfectly illegal for anyone in America to know how to speak or read the English language.

Anna Bailey...

you are already designated as a corporate terrorist. So just sit there and continue to smoke your coke cowpoke.

do not play war games with my family in Wyoming.

The reason is...

NORAD is already prepared to bomb DC like it was Mathews vrs Disneyland and establish authority and government through the bunkers of Colorado.

So seriously...

it is spread your legs hooker.

and while you are a hooker, being a hooker, that French maid uniform looks allot more appealing.

Im going to poop again off, on, and under the new Amidon Bridge.

Why am I not allowed to call pooping a hobby?

If my people are allowed to call killing people work as well as a hobby, I should be allowed to call pooping work as well as a hobby.

Now...

pay your taxes like it was rent...

and when you decide you have resource to reduce those taxes like it was rent...

I will be in Wichita willing to help you cheat everyone working for Corporate. After all, America still owes Trillions, and the number only goes up. Especially while everyone continues to believe that television and internet are free.

The internet costs every human being their immortal soul as well as their head, heart, hands, and health. In the USA, anyone online is already at a loss of their fingers in a mafia debt credit scheme. 

Im in Kansas. Im still kidnapped.

Anna Bailey, missy missy missy needs to spread her legs, be a harder working lady, pay her pimp (moi) and do as squa is told.

[81scorp]

Constructive criticism: Supergirl and Jonah Hex

Ah yes, Supergirl and Jonah Hex.

Supergirl (1984)

When Alexander Salkind and his son Ilya bought the movie rights to Superman they also bought the rights to the character of Supergirl, should any sequel or spin-off occur. Supergirl was originally planned to appear in Superman 3 in a plot line intended to set up a standalone film, but in the end her character was removed. Before production began on Superman 3 the Salkinds announced that they were planning a Supergirl film. Originally the plot was to center around Supergirl rescuing Superman, who would be portrayed as her cousin and mentor, but the film was heavily rewritten after Reeve chose not to be involved.

The movie didn`t do well at the box office and Hollywood took this as a sign that people don`t like female led superheromovies. When in reality, people like movies wether they are female led or not, as long as they are good.

I remember watching this on TV when I was but a wee little kid. I liked several parts but overall, something about the movie just gave me that feeling that it could have been better. It was hard for me to pinpoint what it was about the movie that made me feel that way. Then I realized that Kara seems to forget the whole thing about her home being in danger after coming to Earth. And her naive personality is likeable at first but gets old after a while. This movie would make more sense if Kara had suffered some kind of amnesia to make her forget the threat to her her homeworld.

So, with that said... if I could turn back time by flying around the Earth in superspeed, what would I have changed?

Plot

Somewhere in outer space (Because I`m not a big fan of the whole "Transdimensional innerspace" thing.) A group of Kryptonians are living on an asteroid in the city of Argo. Zaltar, a scientist, is doing experiments with the Omegahedron, a powerful source of energy. He has, in his own words, "borrowed" it and plans to put it back where it belongs after he`s finished his experiment. While he`s doing this, a less powerful version of the Omegahedron that can only sustain Argo city for a few days, is taking the place of the real one. (I`m going more for science-fiction than whimsical fantasy in my version.) Something goes wrong and the Omegahedron is sucked out into space. Kara jumps into a pod and chases after it. (But can`t they create a new, fully functional Omegahedron? Yes, but that would take years and they don`t have years, they have days.)

Kara flies through some kind of cosmic storm that strikes her pod and knocks her out. Both the Omegahedron and her pod crashes on Earth. She wakes up with memory loss, wanders around, lost and disoriented and comes to a farm, the Kent farm. The only one who lives on the Kent farm nowadays is Lana Lang, she gives Kara a place to stay and some food to eat. Since Kara can`t remember her name Lana comes up with a few name suggestions; Lois, Lucy, Selina, Diana and Linda. Kara likes the name Linda and takes it.

Meanwhile, somewhere else in Kansas: Delores Winters, an actress, walks over to her neighbour, Prof. Hugo Ultmann, (later we find out that that`s not his real name) and puts some mail in his mailbox. The stupid mailman put some of Ultmann`s mail in her mailbox by mistake. Prof. Ultmann is a man in his sixties, has a weak, frail body and walks with crutches. Inside his house he meets his assistant: Jake Simmons, who tells him about the amazing thing he found last night. He thought it was an ordinary meteor but it was something much more, some kind of alien technology; the Omegahedron. Simmons and Ultmann get in a car and drives to a warehouse that Ultmann owns. The Professor is an angry, bitter old man, who hates superhumans. He`s convinced that Superman is a trouble magnet, if it wasn`t for him they wouldn`t have to worry about threats from outter space*. He tried to warn his colleagues at S.T.A.R. Labs, but no one believed him, they called him crazy. Superman may not be on Earth now, but he can come back, and when he does, Ultmann must be ready to fight him with every means necessary. He believes that if he destroys Superman Earth will be safe from whatever threat that comes with him and sees this alien orb as a ticket to achieve this goal. They enter the warehouse and we see a bunch of high-tech machines, like a teleportation platform which is not yet finished. Everytime he`s tried to teleport something with it the object in question just gets disintegrated. It also requiers a lot of energy, and he hasn`t found an energy source strong enough to power it longer than a few seconds... until now. Most of the High-tech stuff he has is technology that Brainiac left on Earth that he has reversed egineered. Ultmann appreciates the irony: using tech from an alien threat to fight an alien threat. He has hired a bunch of guys and given them bulletproof high-tech suits that increases their strength, allows them to fly and shoot energy from tiny cannons on their wrists. In the background there is something the size of a bus that is hidden under a giant tarp (I think that`s the correct word). He has a habit of scratching his chin with his pinkie (this will come back later). He has also built some kind of machine the size of a refridgerator that has two helmets attached to it. We don`t know what it does yet, but let`s call it Helmetron 2000 for now.

Act 2: Linda (formerly known as Kara) helps Lana Lang on the farm, she goes downtown to do some errands for Lana. Something bad happens (a car accident or something), Linda helps the people in need and discover that she has superpowers. being close to danger ignites a spark in her mind and she remembers a fraction of her lost memory, something about a city named Argo. Linda returns home and tells Lana who is shocked and wonders if Linda... is a Kryptonian like Clark?

Lana takes out a trunk and shows Linda some pictures and newspaper articles. Superman left Earth a few months ago to help S.T.A.R. Labs with some space exploration. Before he left he convinced Lana (who already knew his secret identity) to take over the Kent farm for him. Linda looks at a photo of Superman, that symbol on his chest looks familiar. Her clothes were torn when she saved the people from that accident, she`ll need a new outfit. Fortunately Lana knows about the Fortress of Solitude. Linda flies to the fortress, it gives her knowledge of Krypton and it`s history but it doesn`t spark any memories. She has no memories of living on Krypton, since she has lived on Argo all of her life. After a while she steps out of the fortress and has a nice supersuit of her own. She takes flight. She is now... Supergirl.

Ultmann`s HQ: News about a woman with superstrength who helped people in Smallville reaches Ultmann. Thanks to his own spy satellite (Yes, he`s that paranoid) he finds out where she is at the moment (flying back to Kansas). He calculates where she will most likely end up and sends his goons to the capitol of Kansas to meet her there.

Later, Topeka, Kansas: Ultmann`s goons show up in their high-tech suits. Supergirl shows up, the goons attack her, she defeats them. Fighting them sparks another lost memory, something about a man named Zaltar. Her fight gets the public`s attention. A woman with the same powers as Superman and a similar suit? News about this Supergirl reaches Metropolis and Perry White yells at Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen to get their butts over there and find out everything they can about this superheroine.

Ultmann`s HQ: Ultmann`s paranoia grows, he believes that Supergirl has come to Earth to convince everyone that she`s good while secretly preparing the way for an alien invasion. He realizes that he has to step up his game and gives Simmons Superpowers; Electrokinesis. Simmons calls himself Deathbolt.

The Kent farm: Linda shows off her new suit to Lana and tells her about her fight with the goons. The phone rings. It`s Lois Lane. She`s on her way to Smallville with Jimmy and wonders if Lana might be able to help them find out where this "Supergirl" is. (Lois knows that asking Lana is a longshot, she probably doesn`t know anything about finding superpeople but Lois is willing to try anything to get an interview.) Lana looks at Linda and says that she`ll see what she can do. (Note: In this universe Lois and Lana knows Superman`s secret identity** and Lois knows that Lana knows and vice versa. Jimmy however, doesn`t know a thing.)

Smallville: Lois and Jimmy arrives and are greeted by Supergirl. Lois gets her interview. Linda flies away, looking for something that can spark more memories.

She hears a strange signal that comes from a junkyard, she lands to investigate and is ambushed by Deathbolt. Deathbolt attacks her with lightning and Ultmann, who sits in a van just outside the junkyard, disorients her with sound cannons that he has placed all over the place. They corner her and make her stand on a platform. Just as Ultmann presses a button Supergirl sees the generator powering the platform and by using her X-Ray vision she sees what is powering the generator: a small orb the size of a baseball. It looks vaguely familiar to her. Ultmann pushes the button. Supergirl disappears. Ultmann feels triumphant. He destroyed Supergirl! He is an ubermensch! A superior man! An ultra-human! No wait,... An Ultra-Humanite!

An alien spaceship: Supergirl materializes. A calm voice talks to her through loudspeakers. It asks her questions as it guides her through the corridors. What Supergirl doesn`t know is that the owner of the ship is exposing her to red kryptonite. The door to the ship`s bridge opens and she is greeted by the owner of the voice. He`s bald, has green skin and appears to be some kind of robot or cyborg. Ghasp! It`s Brainiac!

He points to a nearby planet and tells her that he`s been trying to explore and collect data from it but he has met resistance. The people on the planet seems to have a guardian fighting for them. Brainiac wants Supergirl to take care of that guardian. Supergirl, under the influence of the red kryptonite, agrees to help him. She flies to the planet, lands and causes havoc. The people on the planet flee in terror.

A child looks up in the sky and sees something. It`s a bird! No, wait, it`s a plane! No, wait... it`s him! A man lands on the ground, he wears a blue suit, a red cape and an S on his chest, it`s... Superman!

Superman sees the S on Supergirls suit, is surprised to find another Kryptonian, tries to reason with her, she attacks, they fight. during the fight more memories come back to her, it makes her unfocused, Superman sees this and once again tries to reason with her. She breaks free from the influence of the red kryptonite and with that regains all of her memories. She remembers her name, that her homeworld is dying and that the Omegahedron is on Earth in the hands of the bad guy! She sees the destruction she has caused. She is saddened, she is furious, she flies out into space to attack Brainic`s ship. Brainiac calmly activates the ship`s warp-drive and disappears. Supergirl is angry that he got away but also realizes that she has more important stuff to think about. She and Superman do the best they can to repair the damage she caused.

Later: Supergirl has explained everything to Superman, they both fly away, back to Earth.

Earth: Ultra-Humanite is getting weaker. Simmons wonder if there is anything he can do. U-H tells him not to worry, he can take care of this himself.

Meanwhile, Argo: The Generators that give the Kryptonians air and electricity are weakening. Zaltar is sorry for everything.

Act 3: Next day, Earth: Supergirl and Superman arrive. They find the Omegahedron which Simmons is now using to power a giant death-ray cannon the size of a bus. He fires the cannon at Supergirl but Superman takes the hit for her. (Yes, Supes knows that Kara could have taken the blast, but still, old habit I guess.) Supes is knocked out for a minute. Supergirl fights a bunch of U-H`s goons in their flying high-tech suits, which has now been upgraded. Superman gets back on his feet and destroys the cannon, he and Supergirl then both fight and defeat Simmons.

Supergirl finds Ultra-Humanite sitting in a chair next to the Helmetron 2000 wearing one of the helmets. He`s not responding, he`s a mindless vegetable.

Meanwhile, an Airport: Delores Winters is waiting for her flight to Brazil. Her flight is boarding, she gets up, takes her bag and scratches her chin with her pinkie.

Ghasp! Ultra-Humanite transferred his mind to her body! Just like he did in the comics!

Later: Superman, Supergirl and Lana talk a little. Supergirl mentions that she has taken the pod that she arrived to Earth in and stored it in the Fortress of Solitude. Superman feels that he should take a break from space-exploration and stay on Earth for a while. Kara takes the Omegahedron, flies away, returns to Argo and restores it.

The End

*Like Zod, Ursa and Non from Superman 2, or Brainiac from (my version of) Superman 3.

** This takes place in the same universe as my rewritten version of Superman 2 where Superman didn`t erase Lois`s memory.

This took a while to write because I only had the beginning and the end finished in my head but not the middle. The inclusion of Brainiac was a last minute addition.

I think it would be possible (at least on a technical level) to make this movie in 1984 or 1985, since Star Wars: A new hope (which had impressive effects for it`s time) was made in 1977.

Jonah Hex (2010)

It was the 2010s and someone must have realized that there are more characters in the DC Comics universe than just Superman and Batman. (I know, crazy right?) And since Hex`s comic technically takes place in the same universe as the DC superheroes he must also have a superpower, right? He doesn`t? Let`s give him one then. the film was released on June 18, 2010, by Warner Bros. Pictures and was a commercial failure. (It could have helped if it had been better and hadn`t been released on the same day as Toy Story 3.) This is another one of those movies that I haven`t seen, but I know what happens in it because of reviews that I`ve seen and synopses I`ve read.

So, with that said... If I could run so fast that I could screw the laws of physics, travel backwards in time and change this movie, what would I have changed?

Jonah having superpowers

The first one´s a no-brainer: NO SUPERPOWERS. It would be better if Jonah was just an ordinary bad-ass. Instead of literally talking to dead folks it would be better if he found out how and why they were killed by detective work. (Not that he would carry some kinda forensic kit on him, but more like being able to read signs since he was trained by native americans.)

Jonah´s look

It has been popular to depict him with a big/exposed eye. That would recuire CGI and cost a lot of money and time.

How a bout this: he could carry an eye-patch. I also remember that I read an old Jonah Hex comic a while ago that didn´t depict him with an exposed eye but instead an ordinary sized eye with no iris. This effect could be achieved with an ordinary contact lense.

So you could have: CGI, CGI with eye-patch, eye-patch with no CGI or contact lense.

Personally I`d go with a contact lense.

Plot

It begins in medias res with Jonah, already an experienced bountyhunter, finding and shooting a bunch of bandits. After this we get a flashback that explains most of Jonah`s Origin.

As a child Jonah was left out in the wilderness by his father but saved and raised by native americans. He developed feeling for a girl named White Fawn but another young man in the tribe named Noh-Tante was also intersted in her, so there was some conflict between them. When Jonah became an adult he left the tribe to fight in the civil war, joined the confederate side and and earned a commission as a lieutenant in the 4th Cavalry. Jonah formed a friendship with a man named Jeb Turnbull and a man named Edward Cantwell, the latter saved his life on at least one occasion. After a while Jonah realized that what the confederate side fought for was wrong, deserted his post and went to the nearest Union camp, Fort Charlotte, sneaking into the commander's quarters to surrender directly. He refused to tell the commander where his unit was stationed, but one of his aides was able to determine their location by studying the clay from the shoes of Jonah's horse. The Confederates were caught by surprise, and all of them were captured. The commander, humiliated by Jonah easily penetrating the fort's poor security, falsely praised him for his "assistance" in the attack. Hex punched him and was sentenced to solitary confinement. When he was released he found out that Jeb had been killed by Union soldiers and Edward Cantwell had gone M.I.A.

Jonah came across his old tribe and found that Noh-Tante had since married White Fawn, and White Fawn was not happy about it, she still had feelings for Jonah. Jonah and Noh-Tante started to argue and it led to a fight. it was decided that they would settle their dispute through combat. Noh-Tante sabotaged Jonah's tomahawk so it would break, forcing Jonah to stab him with a knife. Enraged that Jonah had killed his son and broken the rules of combat, the chieftain had him restrained and disfigured with the "mark of the demon" by scarring the right side of his face with a heated tomahawk. With the mark serving as proof of his wickedness, Jonah was banished from the tribe.

In his exile he met and befriended a native american man named Ke-Woh-No-Tay. (In the comics Ke-Woh-No-Tay is a white guy who grew up with native americans and learned their culture and ways, but in this (nonexisting) move it would be better if he was an actual native american.)

Jonah became a bountyhunter, met a man named Arbee Stoneham, who had some experience in the field of bountyhunting. He gave Jonah a few tips and some advice. Jonah`s first bounty was a bankrobber... who turned out to be his old friend Edward Cantwell. Jonah, still valuing their old friendship, wanted to give Cantwell a second chance so that he could become a better person. But then Arbee Stoneham showed up, killed Cantwell, disarmed Hex and stole his guns. Hex vowed revenge.

Flashback ends.

(To help differentiate between Jonah`s past and his present he could wear an eye-patch (after he gets his face burned) in the flashback and no eye-patch in the present. It could symbolize that the older and more experienced Hex doesn`t care if people see him as a monster.)

We meet Quentin Turnbull, a rich plantation owner and Jeb Turnbull`s father who blames Jonah for the death of his son.

Act 2: Turnbull hires five ex-Confederates to take him down, Jonah manages to kill all of them but innocent bystanders get hurt in the process by the ex-Confederates. This angers Jonah, he can understand why someone wants him dead, but if someone has a problem with him they should focus their vendetta on him and only him and leave innocent bystanders alone! He finds out who sent them and tries to kill Turnbull, but Turnbull was prepared for the possibility that Jonah would survive and sends some hired guns to intercept him. Jonah kills them as well but gets mortally wounded in the process. Fortunately he is found and saved by Ke-Woh-No-Tay who takes him to an old friend who nurses him back to health; a native american woman named Tall Bird. Back to full health Jonah decides to continue his revenge journey towards Turnbull. Ke-Woh-No-Tay and Tall Bird don`t like this, they didn`t save his life just so he could go and get himself killed again. Ke-Woh-No-Tay tries to talk Jonah out of it but Jonah is stubborn. Ke-Woh-No-Tay realizes that he can`t stop him and decides to tag along from a distance so that he can assist Jonah when things look too tough for him.

Act 3: Jonah reaches Turnbull`s home and fights some of his hired guns. At one point Jonah gets attacked from behind but his attacker is shot with an arrow fired by Ke-Woh-No-Tay. Jonah fights Turnbull, a fire breaks out in Turnbull`s mansion, Turnbull disappears in the flames and is later presumed dead (I haven`t decided yet if I want to save him for a sequel or not). Ke-Woh-No-Tay is glad that Jonah survived and the two part ways. There`s just one thing left for Jonah to do now.

Jonah finds the town where Arbee Stoneham is living but discovers that Arbee is now an old man in a wheelchair (as a result from a gun-fight years ago) who doesn`t even remember him. Seeing no reason to kill him, Jonah buys him a beer and they talk a little. Jonah then gets up on his horse, visits Jeb Turnbull`s grave to pay his respects. He then gets up on his horse and rides away, towards new adventures.

The End

This one was easier to write since I already had a beginning, middle and an end finished in my head.

I haven`t seen the movie but I have read some issues of the comic and the comic is very pure Western. It is self-contained with, very rarely, any connections to the larger, mainstream Superhero DC universe. It is very much capable of standing on it`s own and does so regularely. That`s why I didn`t include any nods to said universe, or any Sci-fi gimmicks.

Buut... If I were to include any nods to a bigger, connected DC universe I`d do it sparingly, like this:

Early in the second act: Jonah could walk through a town and one of it`s inhabitants (let`s call him Hunter) could look at Jonah as if he`d just seen a celebrity.

Jonah: "Do I know you?"

Hunter: "Oh, sorry! I thought you looked familiar."

Then, after the movie is over we could get a Mid-Credit scene where we meet Hunter again.

It`s night, Hunter is carrying a satchel, standing outside a town, looking at his watch. The clock turns twelve, a time machine the shape of a sphere materializes. It opens, out steps a woman named Bonnie Baxter.

Bonnie: "You got the journal?"

Hunter (holds up the satchel): "Sure did! I also met a historical figure."

(That`s right, it`s Rip Hunter, the time traveller.)

This little cameo could be fun, but it wouldnt`t be super necessary for the movie to work. That`s why I wrote it in a way so that it could easily be removed from the movie without hurting the narrative.

I have to admit that I like the scene with the gatling gun on the horse, I think I`ll keep it in my version.

And that`t how I would do it.

It is of course very easy for me to write these because I have the luxury of hindsight. And unlike the filmmakers I didn`t have a movie studio full of corporate suits breathing down my neck, focus grouping the movie to death, forcing in unnecessary changes and pressuring me to get it made before a deadline.

Why do I write these?

For several reasons. I`m nitpicky. Sometimes the movies I criticize aren`t bad, I just like my own ideas better. Sometimes the movies I critize are bad. I care about good storytelling and it`s a fun excerize in creativity and script doctoring.

But also because I have a lot of of free time.

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Started writing this 2024-07-27

If you`ve been following me for a while you know that these two movies have been on my to-do list for quite some time. Glad to finally get them out of my head.

Comments are appreciated.

Other movies on my Constructive Criticism list that you can look forward to

The Spirit (2008) The Dark Knight trilogy

And as usual: English is not my first language, so if my writing doesn`t seem to flow naturally, you know why.

You can find me on artstation and my sister has a patreon if you`re interested.