#maybe I’m just really high but i feel like I’m making major breakthroughs today

[padthaifan]

I hate to affirm the haters (experienced artists) but wow sitting down and watching art technique videos is really… Wow it really does work. But we CANNOT let the haters know that

[specialagentsergio]

now i’m getting colder || part one

summary: Emily’s been dating you for nearly a year and she’s never been happier--until her past come to call. Then she’s gone, and Spencer’s left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: (faked) major character death, mentions of/implied sex, mentions of vomiting (nothing descriptive), swearing

a/n: i got such a great response from the original fic, so after some requests, i decided to continue the story. thank you all for your support!

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist || masterlist

After the night in Connecticut, Spencer expects everything to change.

He expects you to start spending less time with him and more time with Emily, openly. He expects to have to watch you kiss her, listen to you gush about her to him. He thinks you may even be upset with him for exposing your relationship. So to say that he’s surprised when barely anything changes at all is an understatement.

The amount of time you spend together does go down, but only by about three hours and seventeen minutes per week. (Not that he calculated it on purpose—it’s one of those things he keeps track of without really meaning to.) You still spend a lot of your time with him, listening to him tell you about the books he’s reading and discussing what’s going to be shown at this year’s Georgetown foreign film festival. You don’t talk about Emily that much; at least, not any more than you did before.

Your behavior at work doesn’t change much, either. You and Emily keep things professional there for the most part, enough so that he can almost pretend that you aren’t in love with someone else.

Almost.

Three weeks after Connecticut, his attention is drawn away from his paperwork when you reach over the partition between your desks and tap on the wood.

“Spence.”

“What?”

“Are we still on for the Doctor Who marathon tomorrow?”

He blinks. “Oh, um.” He’s been so caught up in... well, in sulking, that he’s actually forgotten something. “Yeah, I guess. If you still want to. It’s okay if you don’t.”

You frown at him. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“I mean, I just figured...” He leans back in his chair, rocking it a bit. “I figured you’d rather spend time with Emily.”

“Oh.” Your expression doesn’t change much; you still look confused by his words. “Just because I have a girlfriend doesn’t mean I want to stop spending time with you, Spencer. You’re still my best friend.”

“Really?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“Really,” you affirm with a small laugh. “One o’clock, my place. Don’t forget the snacks.”

“I won’t,” he replies quietly, trying to ignore the little bud of hope sprouting in his chest, the thoughts of maybe things aren’t going well between you two and that’s why you want to spend Saturday with him, maybe you and Emily are going to break up—

You rest your chin in your hand as your expression shifts into something serene. Your gaze moves from his face to behind him and he follows it, turning in his chair to see—

Emily’s just walked back into the bullpen with a stack of files. Your eyes follow her the entire time as she makes her way to Hotch’s office, a small smile gracing your lips. You don’t even notice him watching you; you just look back down at your paperwork once she’s out of sight, that smile staying on your face.

Spencer’s chest physically aches, the bud of hope crushed. He returns to his own work, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the tears pricking at his eyes. You’ve never looked at him like that, and he would give almost anything for that to change.

---

Emily had wanted to smack herself when she realized that she was catching feelings for a coworker again.

It’s different than it was with JJ, though. With JJ, she had felt an instant connection. She had felt drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And just like a moth, she had been burned—JJ had never felt the same towards Emily as Emily did to her. She might have, someday. But then JJ met Will, and the rest was history.

You’re something entirely different. Emily’s always found you attractive, but for a long time, she didn’t have any desire to do more than simply enjoy the view. It takes her a while to really get to know you, since you spend so much time with Reid. But as she does, she finds herself more and more interested in you. A year passes, then two. One thing leads to another, and another, until one day she finds herself, slightly tipsy at one of Rossi’s dinner parties, looking at her friend and thinking, god I’d like to kiss her.

Following that realization, she notices a few things—you gravitate towards her at work, save her a seat on the jet and request to room with her when you have to double up. She thinks you’ve started touching her more than normal, too, placing a hand on her as you walk past and picking stray cat hairs off of her clothes.

The profiler in her recognizes these as signs of attraction. Now she just has to get up the nerve to make a move.

It happens in a hotel room in Phoenix. You return there from the FBI field office, both still riding the high of a successful takedown. You’ve always worked well together, and this case was no exception. You were the ones who made the breakthrough on it, leading the team right to the unsub.

You’d also been the pair that ended up at the location where he was. He’d tried to run, but you’d worked together without conscious thought. Emily had pursued directly while you took a side route. You cut him off quickly, and moments later had him in handcuffs and on his way back to the SUV. No injuries or additional casualties. It’s just about the best ending to a case that you can ask for.

You’re practically vibrating with excitement and leftover adrenaline when you turn to face her in the hotel room. And that smile on your face—god, it’s one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.

To hell with it, she thinks, and in the boldest romantic move she’s ever made, says, “I want to kiss you.”

She doesn’t even have time to feel nervous, because you answer immediately by taking her face in your hands and pressing your lips to hers.

Emily’s kissed women before, plenty of them. But none of those kisses had ever felt like this. No other kiss has felt so... right.

She can’t keep her hands in one place as she kisses you back; they roam everywhere, from the back of your neck, to your shoulders, your waist, your hips. You seem to be having a similar dilemma; she can feel you touching her everywhere, as if you can’t get enough of her. It becomes clear where you’re hoping this will go when you push her blazer off her shoulders. She has absolutely no complaints about that, and guides you to the bed that’s closest.  

After, curled up in her arms, legs entwined with hers, you say, “I want more than just this. Not that it wasn’t fantastic,” you add. “It absolutely was. But I want this to be more than just sex, you know?”

“You want a relationship,” Emily infers.

“Yeah.”

She puts a finger on your chin and nudges it up so she can look you in the eye. “That’s what I want, too.”

You smile at her and kiss her again, gently this time. You sigh in content as you settle your head back on her chest.

Emily doesn’t think she’s ever felt happier.

---

A case the BAU gets in a gated community turns out to be a unique challenge.

“And that is the whole kit and kaboodle on each of your sixty-four suspects,” Garcia says. “Nothing really stands out.”

“That’s pretty much the main problem we’re going to have here,” Spencer says. You’ve got your back to him right now, so he’s taking the opportunity to watch you.

“Yeah. Vanilla doesn’t make your job any easier.”

“No, it does not.”  

“So, um,” Garcia starts. “How’s it going with the agent whose father was a... you know?”

He frowns. “How’d you know that?”

“I might have looked into someone’s hidden background,” she admits. When he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “What? I am not gonna let some strange new person travel with my family and not find out who they are.”

Spencer glances at Seaver before returning his gaze to you. You’re wearing a sweater he’s never seen before today, and it’s really working for you. “I don’t know, she seems fine.”

“What is that in your voice?”

He scrunches his eyebrows. “What’s what in my voice?”

“Oh my god, you think she’s pretty!” she exclaims.

“What? I never said that!” he protests. He starts to panic—Garcia is notoriously bad at keeping secrets; she absolutely cannot know how he feels about you—before realizing that she’s still talking about Seaver.

“Ho, ho, you totally do,” she practically cackles. “Ha ha! PG out, lover boy.”

He frowns down at his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Whatever his tell was, he’s going to have to figure out what it is and stop doing it. He’s lucky Garcia wasn’t there to see who he was actually looking at.

“What was that about?”

Spencer jumps a little. You’ve snuck up on him, coming over when he wasn’t looking at you. “Oh, uh, n—nothing. It was nothing.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I don’t believe you. Your voice did that thing.”

“What thing?”

“You know, the thing where it jumps an octave when you’re surprised,” you say, pointing up.

“Oh. Right.” He clears his throat. “It was just Garcia being... you know, Garcia.”

“Uh-huh.” The expression on your face says you still don’t quite believe him, but to his relief, you move on. “Did she find anything in our suspect pool?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah. I like your sweater, by the way,” he blurts out, the words completely bypassing his brain-to-mouth filter.

You give him that smile, the bright, genuine smile that he absolutely adores. “Thanks!” you say. “Emily got it for me.”

Spencer’s never been able to look away from that smile before.

There’s a first time for everything.

---

When Reid stumbles upon the two of you kissing outside of the hotel room, Emily’s actually relieved. You’d both been talking about taking your relationship public for a while, and now she doesn’t have to come up with a way to actually do it. (You’d vetoed her “just stop keeping yourself quiet when I go down on you in hotel rooms” suggestion.)

But you don’t share that relief. Instead, your mood has changed from playful to anxious—she notices your nervous tic as you both enter the room.

She guides you to sit with her on one of the beds. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

“I...” You chew on your bottom lip. She waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts. “That’s not how I wanted it to go,” you say eventually.

“It’s not how I pictured it, either.” She tilts her head, unsure what to say to make you feel better. “It could’ve been worse, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“It could’ve been Rossi.”

That gets a small laugh from you, but the smile doesn’t last. It drops mere moments later as you look at the wall your room shares with Reid and Morgan’s. “Do you think he’s mad at me?” you ask.

Emily blinks. “Why on earth would he be mad at you?”

“Well, it’s Spencer,” you say. “’Trust issues’ is practically his middle name, and I’ve been keeping this—us—from him for months.”

She takes a moment to consider this. You’re right, of course—no one knows Reid better than you. He does have trust issues; abandonment ones, too. But she still can’t imagine him ever being mad at you.

“I’m not sure it’s even possible for him to be mad at you.” She takes one of your hands in both of hers. “But I’ll talk to him, let him know this is on me.”

You relax a little, but still say, “You don’t have to.”

Emily shakes her head. “I want to,” she assures. “Besides, it’s the least I can do, since you’ve gone along with my boundaries for so long.”

“Of course,” you say quietly, and tip your head to rest on her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” She squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

---

There’s something going on with you and Emily.

He sees it in Emily first, noticing that she’s biting her nails and acting hypervigilant, constantly scanning her surroundings as if she’s looking out for something.

He can tell you’re worried, too. You’re watching her more than normal, but with a frown instead of a smile, and you’re quick to look away if she glances at you. Your bottom lip is getting chapped and irritated from how often you’re worrying it between your teeth.  

Spencer isn’t sure what to make of it. It doesn’t help that he’s having headaches more and more often, and getting through them is taking up most of his energy. Even worse, you’re so focused on Emily that you don’t seem to notice that something’s wrong with him, too.

He desperately wants you to, and it’s not because he’s in love with you. He just wants to talk to someone, needs to talk to someone about these headaches, about how much they’re scaring him and how all the doctors say he’s fine but he doesn’t believe them. He knows you would listen, but he just can’t seem to bring it up, can’t overcome his fear of being a burden.

He needs his best friend, but she just doesn't seem to be around right now.

---

“I swear to god, Ian, you come anywhere near her, and I will end you.”

The words she’d spoken just two weeks ago when Doyle brought up your name echo in Emily’s head as she looks down at Tsia’s body. She knew he was hunting all of them, but she didn’t expect this. She’d thought she had gotten Tsia out of harm’s way. Instead, she’d sent her right into it.

She’s usually fine with corpses and blood. After all, she’s seen far worse than a gunshot because of this job. But this is her friend, she was talking to her just yesterday—

Morgan finds her out by the fence lining the building with vomit on her boots. He asks what he can do, and she convinces him to swing by her apartment on the way back to the BAU, not only so she can change, but so she can get rid of the necklace.  

Hotch has just barely started the briefing when they return. His words fade to white noise as she looks over her team, her family. Doyle’s killing families, and now that they’re on the case, hers is next. They just don’t know it.

Her eyes come to a stop on you. The entire team was awake most of the night and everyone’s wearing yesterday’s clothes, but you look as beautiful as ever.

Emily knows you’ve been worried about her this past month, but you’ve also been so patient. You’ve never asked her outright what’s going on, instead dropping hints like you can talk to me about anything and have I ever told you that my college psychology professor said I’m a great listener? When you notice her keeping an odd schedule, leaving for hours at a time, you only ask that she text you when she gets home for the night so you’ll know she’s safe.

When Doyle had revealed that he knew what you were to her, Emily’s first thought had been that she should break up with you, for your own safety. But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. You were her safe place, her calm in the center of the storm, her sanctuary.

Her profiler brain had backed her up: Ian wasn’t going to care about the official status of your relationship. He already knew she loved you, and he’d recognize that calling it off right after their meeting would be about protection rather than a change in her feelings.

So she had stayed with you, retreated to her safe place when it all became too much. This past month had been hell, but it would have been even worse without you there to keep her head above water.

You are, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to her. And she’ll be damned if Ian Doyle was going to take that away from her.

Enough.

It was time to end this.

---

The only word Spencer can use to describe the hospital waiting room is surreal. It’s eerily quiet. No one is talking, not even Garcia; she’s scribbling in a notebook instead. People switch between sitting and standing. He paces for a while before sitting next to Penelope, hunching forward in a way he knows is going to make his back hurt in a few hours. Everyone’s restless, even if they try to hide it.

Everyone, that is, except you. You’ve barely moved at all.

It had all happened so quickly. Not long after the briefing, they realized Emily was gone. From the document she had gotten from her informants, the team had quickly been able to deduce that four of the names were spies—and through that, that Emily was one, and she was on Doyle’s list.

Hotch found her gun and badge in her desk.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Spencer had said. “Why run? We’re her family. We can help.”

“That’s why,” you’d responded hollowly. “He’s killing families. She ran to protect us.”

It had been a comfort to see JJ walk back into the bullpen, and she was able to get ahold of crucial information: Emily had gone undercover as Lauren Reynolds and began a romantic relationship with Doyle in order to profile him.

It was information that didn’t sit well with most of them, Morgan especially. But you hadn’t seemed too bothered, almost as if it wasn’t news to you. Spencer had brought it up as you were both collecting your go bags for the flight to Boston.

“That didn’t seem to surprise you. Emily sleeping with him,” he clarified when you just raised an eyebrow at him.

“I knew there was a guy she was with for a while,” you’d said. “She told me a bit about what their relationship was like. Said it wasn’t real to her. I didn’t know he was a terrorist.”

Overall, you had handled this as well as could be expected. If it were you instead of Emily, Spencer thinks he would have been an absolute wreck. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to work the case as well as you had. There were some points where the stress had gotten the better of you, though, like when they were watching the video of Emily’s failed ambush and Morgan voiced his discomfort with it.

“She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car. She’s lucky the three people inside didn’t die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”

“No,” you had said bluntly.

Rossi had immediately tried to smooth it over by saying, “Well, three bad guys.”

Seaver is the one who makes the breakthrough on the case, posing the question of, why families? Hotch is able to convince Clyde to help, and Garcia tracked down Doyle’s son. You had recognized Emily’s hands in the photos of Declan’s faked death, and everything had clicked into place, the final piece of the puzzle of her past.

Morgan was the only one on the team to go into the building. “We’re already bending the rules by doing this ourselves,” Hotch had explained. “Our connection to Prentiss compromises the case. We can only afford to send one of us in there. The rest of us will wait outside in the case that he calls for backup.”

Morgan’s call over the comms had given Spencer emotional whiplash. “I’ve got her!” sparking intense relief, but quickly followed by, “I need a medic!”

Hotch had kept everyone from crowding the ambulance. They’d only gotten a brief glimpse of Emily being loaded into the back of it. Morgan had come over to the group once the doors shut and updated everyone on her condition.

“She, um...” He cleared his throat, clearly trying to reign in his emotions. “She was stabbed. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Okay,” you’d said faintly. Then you’d walked a few feet away and thrown up on the pavement.

You haven’t said anything since.

When the team had first arrived at the hospital, you had just stood in the middle of the waiting room, barely moving, until Garcia guided you to sit in a chair. Spencer had tried to talk to you a few times, just to check in, see if you needed anything, but you hadn’t responded at all. Your eyes were unfocused, and he could tell you were lost in whatever was happening in your head.

They wait for a long time. Spencer knows the exact number is floating around in his head somewhere, but he doesn’t care to track it down.

JJ walks in. Everyone looks up. The look on her face says everything he needs to know.

“No,” Garcia whispers at his side.

JJ draws in a breath. “She never made it off the table.”

His body moves on its own; he stands from his chair and tries to leave the room, but JJ stops him with a hand on his chest. “Spence.”

“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye,” he says, only able to glance at her face once.

“Come here,” JJ says, her voice just barley audible, and pulls him into a hug.

His face crumples, and he starts to cry. His feelings about Emily may have been... complex the last few months, but regardless of any jealousy or anger, she was still one of his closest friends, and he loved her. She was like the big sister he never had, always looking out for him. Being told she’s gone—it doesn’t feel real.

JJ is the one to break the hug, pulling back from him as gently as she can. When he turns back to face the team, his eyes land on you.

You’re sitting next to Rossi and you’ve practically collapsed into him now, your body shaking with silent sobs. Rossi has a few tears of his own falling down his face as he runs his hand up and down your back.

Spencer doesn’t bother to wipe away his own tears as he makes his way to the vacant seat on your other side. He gently places his hand on top of one of yours and says your name quietly. You don’t move except to turn your hand palm up, put your fingers through his, and grip it so tightly, it’s as if you’re hanging on for dear life. He supposes you are.

You’re going to need your best friend to get through this. He knows that because he’s going to need you as well. He may be hopelessly in love with you and long for you to feel the same way, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

It doesn’t matter, because Emily is gone. She’s gone; she isn’t coming back.

And the world feels colder without her.

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

tell me what you thought here!

[saundraswriting]

Hercules Chapter Three

SUMMARY:The Case continues with some interviews of the victims families. Morgan and Reid work on the Geological Profile. Reid begins pushing himself hard, and Morgan is the one to calm Reid down. It only works for a little bit when the realization hits the entire team that with the lack of connection and the breakthrough Reid finds, Reid will be the one to solve the case by working himself to death.

WARNINGS: Maybe slight self-harm? Spencer is pushing too hard.

Previous // Next

Hotch and Gideon were on their way to Leonard Davis' home. Mrs. Mary Davis, his mother was their interviewee. "Mrs. Davis, are you home? My name is Aaron Hotchner. I am with the BAU at the FBI. I wanted to ask you a few questions." Hotch said loudly.

"Hold your horses. I'm coming. Haven't I answered enough questions? but come in, come in." Mary held the door open, and only Hotch's years of experience prevented his flinch. Her blonde hair was falling out if its clip, she was dressed in a teal cami and black yoga pants. She had deep bags under her eyes and a half empty bottle of gin in her left hand.

"Hello. I'm Mary. If we could hurry this up, I have a lot to do yet." Mary stood by the sink, took a swift swallow of the gin and dumped the rest down the drain. "Self-medication was okay for a little, but time continues on and so should I"

"He was in the top 15 of his class. He was going to do great things I just knew he would. I was so happy to find out that his meds were working and that he liked them. " Mary's voice was as soft as the wind.

"Medications for what?" Hotch asked?

"Depression. His best friend was his sister. She was killed by a drunk driver when she was 16. He was 13. she had left in a hurry when we were fighting over the divorce announcement. After words I sent Leo to a therapist to help with the issues he was going through. I figured it couldn't hurt, right? Turned out he really liked going. Sorted out a lot of problems that Leo was having at the time. Things looked like there were turning up and then he turned 15. He began reading, psychology, sociology, Buddhism, Hinduism.  He would question me randomly, about my thought on God and the state of the world and Creationism among other things. Please remember I wouldn't have even noticed had I not gone into his room the night he was murdered. I saw the books and I understood. Leo was lost and confused, all I did to help was hand him over to a therapist.  I never forced him to go to church with me, I let him return to therapy seeing it may help him. Then 3 weeks later Leo is found strangled to death." Mary sniffed and rubbed her eyes. "Are we done here? I don't want to talk about Leo anymore. I have several appointments today as well. "

"We don't have any more questions for you.  Thank you for your time, Mary. If you need us please call." Gideon said, handing over his and Hotch's card.

"Good day to you as well." Mary walked them out.

Hotch and Gideon arrived at the station a few minutes after Morgan and JJ returned from their interview with Lucy Basset. They walked into Spencer's cave  where coffee cups littered the table.

"Pretty Boy, got anything?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, sit please. I talked to Garcia and if this doesn't check out. then we'll move on. First, you guys; what did you find out?" Spencer pointed to the seats round the table.

"Ophelia resents the fact that her dad died. vocally questioned God. Mom is on meds and Ophelia's been running the household since she was 16." Morgan explained.

"Leo was a great student. Was in therapy for the divorce + death of his sister. Leo was researching psychology, sociology, Buddhism, and Hinduism. He was vocal but not drastically so." Gideon explained. Reid's eyebrows rose but wrote the observations in the notes taped to the wall opposite of the maps.

"Ophelia refused to light the candle of her father's shrine Lucy made. Besides that, I am not seeing any family involvement." JJ mentioned.

"Which makes sense considering the amount of violence the victims suffered But it wasn't torture becasue it wasn't for a period of time, the cause of death is the only wound on them. So not a sadist, not family, does that mean we have a run-of-the-mill serial killer whose delusional we need to crack?" Morgan ground out through his teeth, frustrated.

"I may have suspects. It's a long shot but worth a try. Garcia found two people in the 20 Mile radius of the image the relevant sites make that have RR as their initials. I labeled and mapped out the relevant places: Potential kill site based of distance, the dump sites and family homes. When I get the actual kill sites I can narrow it down more-anyway-I feel like I'm missing a link, a piece to the puzzle. The map isn't looking right at all. I did the locations in order from oldest murder to most recent and in crime order so family home to kill site to dump site. It will get more accurate with more information. I know that with the mass of uncertainties that we have right now, this is going to take a while but it is the biggest help we have. Feel free to look in here if you need anything, this map will update as I get information. I will keep working on this. There may be a pattern." Spencer rambled quickly. He gulped out of his coffee cup.

"Sirs and madame, we have the official kill sites now. Forensics gave us a very close locale adn we checked them out to get the exact coordinates. I have them for you Agent Reid." A uniform handed out a list of places to each of the BAU.

"Come here." Reid demanded. The two consulted the map for a few quiet moments and then the purple marks were moved. Reid's key gained a new color: Orange for new information and the black got changed to permanent. The team took the pause to gather their thoughts. Morgan used the table speaker to call Garcia.

"Garcia, any new info on our possible suspects"

"Well, hello, to you too, Chocolate Bar."

"Hey mama. Please give me something good."

"Well you are down to one. Numero dos has been found in jail-GTA. Numero uno is worth a shot." She rattled of an address. Hotch jotted it down and left.

"Pretty Boy, anything else?" Morgan asked.

"No! Damn it, this case is residing on my ability to crunch numbers and find a pattern, on my geological profile. And I can't make rhyme or reason." Spencer ranted. Morgan grabbed Spencer and herded him out of the room.

"Break time. Get some coffee, sit and breathe, Spencer." Morgan began making a cup, pulling hazelnut creamer out of the fridge.

"No, Morgan! I need to get back in that room. This profile. is the only thing going for this case right now. There is no vicitmology, no sexual sadism, we really can't form a normal profile." Reid stated. He sipped at his coffee, eyes widening at the taste.

"Spencer, calm down man. you'll go into a anxiety attack if you keep worrying like this. Listen to me, everything will be fine. Ask a local uniform to get the distances if they can. After that begin your in-depth look at everything. You are fine, you're doing great. Chill out a little." Morgan soothed.

"Morgan, you wouldn't have but hazelnut creamer into my coffee, would you? Thank you, I don't deserve a friend like you. But right now, even the smallest pieces of paper, the smallest connection can help us." Spencer said.

"You can go back in, if you calm down. Promise me?" Morgan pleaded. Spencer nodded and sipped his coffee slowly.

Morgan  stood near Spencer, silent and still as a sentinel. He had a bad feeling about this case and they still had one family to interview.

"Morgan, Reid, I'm gonna visit the Brown's. Garcia said that Tabitha Well's parents are drug addicts won't be any help. They are in rehab and the program forbids visitors." Gideon said. Morgan nodded and helped Spencer stand straight. He was swaying slightly. Spencer yawned deeply. Morgan felt his concern for his friend grow.

"Let's go. We can get started looking at the G.P. Can I have a uniform please?" Morgan said. Matthew stepped forward. The trio walked into the map room.

"We need the exact distances between each point on this map. As soon as possible, please." Spencer paused "And each victim's personal effects. Tell me that you did search their rooms and houses." Spencer said.

"I believe so, at least as much as the families allowed. I'll be right back." Matthew smiled timidly at Spencer before leaving.

"Hey, man. Mr. Matthew is into you. You gonna jump on that?" Morgan teased. The name tasted sickly sweet and tangy on his tongue like new metal.

Spencer sighed and shook his head at Morgan's antics. He appreciate the never-ending support he had gained from the team when he came out as gay months ago. JJ and Garcia had been enjoying it the most though, they spent the evenings at the clubs and bars checking out the men and finding dance partners for the girls.

"I don't do case relationships. You know that. Why aren't you hitting Maddie up? She seems into you." Spencer shot back.

"No. I'm not, uh, feeling it now." Morgan answered. Spencer side-eyed him but didn't push the issue. Morgan exhaled in relief.

"So, I am thinking about the connection between victims will be unorthodox in comparison to a 'normal' serial killer. It will be something in common with the age group. 14-20 year olds- teenagers. Maybe they are in favor of a controversial topic. one of their generation's problems brought them all to the attention of the killer." Spencer rambled, writing under the victims: Atheism.

"Okay, they are high-school to college students from messed up homes all vocal about something their generation is facing. Drugs? Legalization of weed is a big problem, Colorado, Washington and the District of Colombia all legalized recently. Maybe the UnSub didn't want it legalized and saw them using in the open?" Morgan questioned aloud.

"Today, 90% of teenagers don't do drugs-including weed-, smoke tobacco, underage drinking. The majority of people gunning of marijuana legalization believe it is a victimless crime and unlike other substances aren't full of horrible chemicals. So no, that isn't it, I think. Not drugs, not war, not environment...Gay rights?" Spencer looked over at Morgan.

"Back up, boy wonder. Why not war and environment? And why write down Atheism?" Morgan's confusion drew Spencer's gaze once more.

"If our UnSub was against the current War, don't you think that there would have been something majorly different in his behavior? People that make statements dealing with War or politics blow coffee shops up, gas stations, malls. Large, obvious signals. If the victims were on either side, it would have been obvious even for the uniforms here. If it was environmental issues, they would have home set-ups: recycling on a very detailed scale, composting, gardens, homemade snacks, re-purposing of things. So far each victim has dealt with a devastating death close to them. When that happens, people in general turn to God, but each person in this case has turned away from God at some point at some level. A typical problem with many people of this age group is coming out to people that matter and if they will be accepting or rejected. So it could be both but from what I have heard about the families, victims, and their lives none were open or closeted Bisexuals, or Homosexuals. I am heavily leaning towards Atheism. We will know for sure when Matthew comes back with the evidence." Spencer rambled quickly, his words practically attached to one another. Morgan tilted his head and shrugged, agreeing with the young genius.

"Dr. Reid. I have the evidence you requested. Unfortunately we don't have anything to give you for distances. When we looked on G.I.S technology and the ones we used varied, so we validated the coordinates for you to calculate." Matthew explained from the doorway.

"Damn it. That is going to take me a while. Okay-Morgan go outside and sort through the evidence. Use social media of any type, journals, diaries, photos, to see if there is anything relevant or strange. I need to not be bothered while I do these calculations, they are going to be extensive." Spencer ordered, He turned to the map. He stilled, body tightening with a laser-like focus. Morgan chuckled softly and herded Matthew out the door.

"Okay. You heard Spencer. Lets get cracking. He is gonna work himself death on this. We can at least help." Morgan spoke to Matthew and the three other volunteers he had gathered along the way. Everyone grabbed a different tub and began sifting through the journals, pictures, and printed pages from social media.

************

Gideon arrived at the Brown's home. He knocked and patiently waited to be invited in. "Kimberly Brown? My name is Jason Gideon. I am an agent of Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I have a few questions for you and you family. I shouldn't be too long." Gideon said entering the well designed home.

"Okay, Agent Gideon. I have a few minutes to talk. Come on in." Kimberly was dressed in a pencil skirt and blue button up shirt.

"I just want to know how Everett was before he died. How was he in school. Did someone close to him die?" Gideon asked. Kimberly grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice and water.

"Everett was a good student. Not the greatest, but he did well with football and baseball pre-seasons, season, and off-seasons. He was the star Quarterback for three years and and the star pitcher for two. He loved it. We were immensely proud. He was working on the final things to be ready for Oregon State University to play football for them and go into business and economics. It was the best thing that happened to us." Kimberly said. Gideon noticed that her tone was rather practiced and empty.

"Who were talking to? Cause that wasn't my brother. He did football for so long becasue you would disown him if he did. He wanted to be a doctor, Pediatrician specifically. He wasn't going to play at OSU. He decided his grades would be more important. Everett loved science. He never made a decision without thinking all the variables through." A male voice from the door said.

"Cameron. Enough." Kimberly snapped harshly.

"He wrote me letters-emails really. I brought them with me. Some were really strange, written in a code or something? I'm not sure. With Mom into fashion design and Dad into the stocks, Everett really didn't have anyone to turn to. So he vented to me. He would even write the first word of the subject line: Ventilation so I knew not even to open those ones. I did sometimes anyway. I go to Columbus for English and History. I am a novelist. I felt that he may not want a response but he deserved to get one." Cameron explained nervously.

"Can we have those? They would be marvelous help. I know he recent death must be difficult but this could help find the murderer." Gideon pointed out. Cameron nodded his consent.

"I can show you his room? I know that the police would have taken things they found relevant, but the BAU is different, isn't it?" Cameron ignored his mother's protests and showed Gideon to Everett's room. The room was tidy, shelves and cube organizers were everywhere. Everything had a place but it seemed that the items didn't return instantly to its place. The room had small stacks of books here and there, probably from the overflowing bookshelf. The clothes were in the hamper, and the walls covered in pictures and collages. "We traveled a lot. Everett believe even if he was a science man, he should be creative with something. called it Art therapy. He did these all himself." Cameron explained.

"I am sorry. We work hard to stop these people but more just slip right through." Gideon looked around and on the desk saw a piece of paper with what looked to be gibberish. He picked it up to look closer.

"That may be true, agent Gideon. but at least you try. Hey, that is what the strange messages looked like." Cameron waved at the paper. Gideon put it in an evidence bag and nodded at Cameron.

"Thanks Cameron. We will keep you posted. If you need anything here's my card. Also at the police station." With that Gideon showed himself out, noticing the two cups from earlier were gone as was Kimberly. He continued to the station.

***********

"Okay, gather round, I've got something." Gideon said upon arrival.

"Me too. And Reid is working and said to not be disturbed. I will fill him in." Morgan said. A shout from the map room had them racing.

"Sorry. I just finished all those distance calculations. I had to do the distance between homes and kill sites, kills sites and dump sites, and homes to dump sites. I also did places last seen when they applied and kill sites. And the distances between the homes of the victims for information. That was 20 intricate equations. I had to validate each coordinate with my info and the police to make sure it was right....and I'm rambling." He cut himself off at Morgan's look.

"What did you find out Reid?" Hotch demanded.

"That it isn't a number compulsion. Each distance is different. And the points aren't making a closed shape, in any order. I rearranged this 6 different times but nothing made sense. I think I am missing a location. Or the homes isn't where they were picked from. Any evidence support home break-ins?" Spencer asked. Hotch shook his head. "So, it isn't the home that are important. That isn't the grab site. I need coffee." Spencer's stomach growled.

"And food maybe?" Morgan commented.

"I will be fine. Give me some more time and coffee and I will have more." Reid said leaving the room.

"Wait, you're a genius but you haven't had a breakthrough? What good are you?" Someone said sardonically. Reid and the rest of the team froze instantly; Reid from terror-that tone brought back awful memories and the team from reacting to Reid's tense body language. JJ and Morgan felt murderous.

"I am a genius, maybe-if an IQ of 187 reading 20,000 words per minute, holding three PhD.s, two bachelor degrees and working on a third is considered genius. But I don't like measuring intelligence with numbers and such. People refer to me as a genius, if that helps. I have just crunched out 120 intricate equations, 20 for each of the 6 different order I have arranged them trying to find a pattern. In my head. From this conversation alone I can tell your life story and I am trying to do the same for someone I have never met and leave me dead people to examine. I think what progress I and my team has made is more than you and your colleagues. Now, I was being nice, pleasant even. If this happens again, I can't guarantee that the two fully-certified murderous looking agents behind me won't do you bodily harm. So do me, you and everyone a favor and sit down and shut up." Spencer sassed. The room was deadly silent. Morgan couldn't (didn't) stop the proud smug look from settling on his face. His Pretty Boy just went Alpha Male on the local bully and Morgan couldn't be happier.

In the quiet Spencer made his coffee and returned to his room. He settled in a chair and rubbed at his temples drinking his coffee. Morgan looked in quickly and returned to JJ. "JJ, can you order some food. I don't know when the last time he ate was. He and us need something, anything. His sugar is getting high, too much sugar in one cup let alone several pots. Gideon, Hotch, I have something to share. Reid needs to hear this as well." the trio commented they'd be there in a minute.

Spencer stood in the middle of the room, hugging himself and trembling. Morgan stepped in close after shutting the door.

"Hey, Spence. You did awesome out there. You went all alpha on him and it rocked his world. Come on, sit down. You are fine. No one is gonna hurt you. I'm right here. He was an asshole and deserved the chewing out you gave him." Morgan sat Reid down and gave him a tight hug, exaggerating his breaths, trying to get Reid to catch on. Reid did, calming down slowly.

Spencer tensed slightly at the beginning of the hug but quickly reveled in the warm, human contact. Morgan and JJ and Garcia may touch him often and Gideon and Hotch less often but no one hugged him like this. He usually got fleeting touches, faint and quick as a butterfly's wing beat. Morgan may touch him the most but only claps on the shoulder, fingertips to a wound's dressing, a  guiding hand on his elbow. No one ever touched him like this; with love and kindness, with the purpose to comfort and share your troubles. 'Isn't that the purpose of hugs in difficult times? To share your burdens with a second pair of shoulders? To share your space with another human, to make the world more bearable?' Spencer thought. He opened his (when did they close?) closed eyes and caught a swirly ray of the sun covering part of Morgan's neck. He knew from tracing Morgan's with his eyes and his own with his fingertips the eight outer swirls and the larger middle one from memory, seeing it this close made Spencer anxious for reasons he didn't know.

Morgan felt Spencer stop trembling but tense up. Morgan only squeezed tighter. He was confused about his reactions to the young genius as of late. He could barely tolerate seeing the look of awe and admiration in Matthew's eye when Spencer spoke in general, the look only got worse with direct communication. Morgan didn't even really understand why he felt so protective of Reid either. He understood as friends you try to protect one another but Morgan was ready to tear the asshole from earlier (Thomas)'s head off so thinking so little of the genius. Morgan wanted to make sure Spence was cared for-eating healthy and sleeping right. He wanted to be the one to administer the human contact he knew Spencer needed. Not just the fleeting touches he gave out but hugs, wonderful hugs that lessened the pressure Reid felt from the world. He wanted to be near Spencer if only to watch him think then so be it. Morgan never felt this way about anyone before. He knew that this was beyond friendship he was feeling but wasn't sure what it was he felt for the Boy Wonder.

"Thank you Morgan. I needed that. I was really scared. I thought he might hit me." Spencer said as they broke apart.

"Do you need any help? I am not sure what I can do but I can sure as hell try." Morgan glanced around and realized that with the case looking the way it was, Spencer would be the one to solve it. He would synthesis the evidence, he would be the one to get the breakthrough, he would be the one ending up overworked, overstressed, malnourished and fatigued.

"No, I've got it. could you get me some...uh...food? Please?" Spencer asked hesitantly. Morgan laughed.

"JJ is already on it. We will give you updates if we get anything. I will be around if you need anything. Just take your time and work you magic. I found something earlier, I was going to tell Hotch and Gideon right now. You keep working. If we need you I'll get you." Morgan left and stepped to the right of the doorway, seeing Hotch and Gideon standing there.

"We believe these texts to Leo, Tabitha, Ophelia, Everett, the emails from Everett to Cameron, the diary of Ophelia are written in a code. We also believe that the note you got from Everett's room was the key. I think he was a recent addition to whatever group uses this code, no one else had a key. We need to use the  key to crack the code. Does anyone want to try?" Morgan asked Hotch and Gideon.

"Neither one of us would be able to do it in a timely manner. We know you are terrible with codes and riddles, Morgan. That leaves Reid and Garcia. JJ is having a rough time with the press right now." Hotch mused.

"Bring it all in here. You know that I am the best and really the only option."Reid called from his room.

"No, Spence, you have enough to do Garcia may have a program she can run." JJ said.

"You have to break the code first and then give it to her or she has to run all her programs on it. I can read 12 languages and am pretty smart I can at least break it quick. Hand it over." Reid strode out, sleeves rolled up and pen spinning in circles. A different persona than when he is calculating something where he has a specific formula and direct end goal, this is thinking-trying one idea to reject it and go to another. He needs to be loose, have no end goal planned.

Spencer began pacing and muttering, spinning his pen and pausing every once and while when a train of thought might lead somewhere. 15 minutes in and he stopped and looked up.

"It's pig latin." He said awestruck. Morgan internally sighed at the tone, it was usually followed by a statistic or random or obscure facts. Morgan wasn't wrong. "The single-page is a cheat sheet for most common transitions between English and Pig Latin. I mean a large number of the population can say they have heard of Pig Latin, smaller percentage say they have heard it, and an even smaller portion say they have ever spoken a word of Pig Latin. This is a great idea. It also means that whoever this correspondence was from or to is smart and manipulative. He had to know and be able to teach these kids Pig Latin, and to get them to use it willingly when talking about this group without brainwashing or violence is no easy feat. If they write in code then no sneaky parents will understand if they accidentally see it. Garcia should be able to help, I can if she can't." Spencer handed back the cheat sheet and return to his lair of maps and used coffee cups.

"Hey, man. None of them were open or closeted Bisexuals or Homosexuals. Leo and Ophelia were openly Pro-gay rights but I don't know about the others." Morgan said to his retreating back. Reid paused and turned.

"Nothing of relevance. So I was wrong. That word is around me more in the case than my life.  But at least we aren't dealing with homophobia or something, those cases are touch and go. So it has to be Atheism. We are dealing with religion." Spencer saw Hotch's mouth open. "No, I don't know what that means, but we have something. We can work with something. Give me some time to think." Reid walked in and shut his door.

"That kid is going to kill himself with this case." Morgan murmured. The others consented their agreement.

Previous // Next

*******************************************************************************************

Okay, The focus of the fic shifts from here. This isn’t a case fic so to speak, it is a soulmate au fic. So be prepared for that. 

[cecilspeaks]

155 - The Heist, part 3

Leave no stone unturned. Leave no rock unpivoted. Leave no pebble untwirled. Welcome to Night Vale.

My brother-in-law, Steve Carlsberg, is still in jail, wrongly accused of the recent bank heist. But I am happy to have my husband Carlos back home. The Sheriff’s Secret Police had only taken him in for some questions regarding the robbery of the Last Bank of Night Vale. Sheriff Sam had deemed Carlos a person of interest, which I’ve been saying for years, but Sheriff Sam meant it differently.

Carlos said while he was being questioned at the police station, he saw the other bank employees who were there the day of the robbery. Genevieve Daly, the new bank teller, was being asked if she saw anyone other than Steve Carlsberg near the vault that day. Carlos said she was stone faced, unhappy with the interrogation. Susan Willman was there, crying, as the police asked her who else, other than Steve Carlsberg, could have a key. And security guard Jesse McNeil was there looking quite ill, almost seasick, according to Carlos, as the police tried to badger him into implicating Steve Carlsberg.

Carlos has been home for a couple of weeks and in a terrible funk. He said Steve has a nearly impossible case. The police are convinced of Steve’s guilt and all their evidence points directly to him. Carlos hardly has any energy or emotion to work, or even leave the house. I feel awful for Steve too, and we are doing our best to support him and our family.

I tried cheering Carlos up by telling him my favorite science jokes, like two chemists walk into a bar and one tells the bartender, “I’ll have an H2O” and the other says “I’ll have an H20 too,” and the bartender says and sighs.. [fed up] “It’s been a long day guys,” and then the two chemists nod and say, [embarrassed] “Yeah oh god yeah sorry, just a couple of waters thanks.” And then later they make sure to tip very well. But Carlos didn’t even crack as mile, let alone laugh, and I asked him how his doorless fridge experiment was going and he’s welcome to work on it here, in his home laboratory. I don’t even mind if he keeps staining everything green with that weird gel he’s been using. “I ran out of gel, Cecil,” he said, prone on the couch not opening his eyes. “I couldn’t work on that, even if I wanted to. which I don’t.” Hm. I wanna curl up on the couch too, stay home from work. But I know that would be terrible for Carlos. There are many times I’ve felt flat or depressed, and Carlos has been there for me, keeping me company, taking in my sadness and reflecting back not a false smile but attentive eyes, a listening posture that makes me feel heard and understood, and that’s what I want to be for him. Besides, I think Steve can beat these charges. Steve may have been the only one with a key to the vault, but they cannot prove he opened the vault, as he was locked inside his own office during the robbery. And besides, Steve keeps very detailed accounting so they wouldn’t be able to find the stolen money, not even if he had taken it. Steve Carlsberg is… [moved] the nicest man in Night Vale. He’s a good boss, breaking his foot to get free to try to protect his employees. He’s a fine father. A loving husband. And a perfect brother-in-law. It’s just not... it’s not possible. You know, if someone on the inside did this, it was probably Susan. Susan Willman is the least trustworthy person in that bank, if not in this whole town. So if you’re going to…

[loud scary noises] Station Management just slit a memo under my door gently, reminding me about libel laws. The memo is written in fire on a sleep tablet, and there’s a snake curled around it so, uhh.. I’m going to leave my Susan WIllman theory alone. But. Let’s just say that there was an untrustworthy person in that bank, and that her name was Su..anne Wilt..son. Yes, Sue-Anne Wilson, yes and this hypothetical jerk was always complaining at PTA meetings about her own personal problems, rather than focusing on the agenda, let’s just say. And this Sue-Anne Wilson once accused Steve Carlsberg of censoring her, when Steve was just trying to finish the meeting in a timely manner so that the basketball team could se the gym for evening practice. This person might well hold a grudge against Steve Carlsberg and want to not only steal from him, but frame him for the crime. 

Or, what if the Sheriff’s Secret Police… [loud scary noises] was doing a really great job, so great that they didn’t have a lot of arrests to make because the town was so safe. And of course, [chuckling nervously] they would never need to frame someone for robbery! So they would look like they were solving one of the major crimes in recent memory. Or maybe it was space slugs. Some distant aliens from across the galaxy somehow found our solar system and spotted our Earth, and then randomly chose Night Vale, and for whatever reason, they really wanted our money, so they went down inside the bank vault while the building was on fire, and without the safe key they entered the locked room because these space slugs can crawl through walls, and then they stole all the money. I don’t know! I feel helpless.[loud scary noises fade out]

Reading the news and getting angrier and angrier, but you know there’s little I can do about terrible things that keep happening. I’m sure you can’t relate. Maybe a community calendar will cheer me up.

This Saturday, the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex opens its annual Haunted Halloween Hayride. There was complications this year, because Ghost Union Local 31 went on strike for an increase in pensions and maternity leave. Teddy Williams, owner of the Desert Flower, argued that ghosts cannot retire nor get pregnant, but the union countered with vaguely human faces muttering in the shadows while Teddy screamed, and eventually, a deal was truck.

Sunday morning is the pie eating contest at the Night Vale fair. Contestants will be competing for a top prize of a 1991 Buick Le Sabre, autographed by former US presidential hopeful and Illinois governor, Adelai Stevenson.

Tuesday afternoon is a tedious song. Wednesday night is the high school dance team’s statewide semifinals at the rec center. Our own Night Vale High School is competing that night. Their top rival is Red Mesa High School, who will be performing a jazz routine called Tommy Tunes Broadway: an upbeat medley of classic show tunes. Night Vale’s dance team will present (--) [0:09:21] postmodern masterpiece (-): contemplative blend of sculpture opera and dance defined by its explosive physical bursts, chanting, and (contra-) movements born of a 22-member ensemble, who express the human body as a multidimensional art installation. Good luck to all dancers!

And finally, Thursday is sick, so Friday will be covering Thursday’s shift. Eh, except for the part about the haunted hay ride. That did not cheer me up.

I’m getting word that the Secret Police have made a breakthrough in their bank heist investigation. Or maybe they found the real thief and can let Steve Carlsberg go? [clears throat] Sheriff Sam said the lab reports came back, the fingerprints were inconclusive as their top suspect Steve Carlsberg worked at the bank, so his fingerprints were everywhere. But the lab reports did detail a strange goo police found on the vault walls. This goo, a light green gel, was also found on the walls of the cells that the other robbers had escaped from two weeks ago. So maybe my theory about space slugs is correct. No wait. The lab reports showed that this unusual chemical can render certain metals intangible, allowing people to reach through walls without breaking them. [stutters] Police believe whoever used this greenish goo used it to rob the bank’s vault and to free the prisoners inside the abandoned mineshaft outside of town. The Sheriff then said they discovered this exact same chemical on Steve Carlsberg’s property. They discovered it inside the shed behind the house, and that this is the final piece of evidence that links Steve Carlsberg to the robbery of the Last Bank of Night Vale. They believe that, oh no… Um, that Steve did not act alone, that he had an accomplice, a scientific mastermind who created this chemical for him. Who generated a complex concoction that enabled them to walk through walls stealing whatever they wanted. They have a warrant out now for Carlos’ arrest. I’ve gotta call Carlos. I- Oh, it looks like he left a voicemail.  

[beep] Carlos: Hey sweetie, it’s um me. So listen, I have um, I so-so I’ve just been arrested. No biggie, no biggie, I’m fine. This is actually good news, because I wanted to talk to the Sheriff anyway about all this, so that-that’s great. And um, I do have some new thoughts about what happened at the bank, and they’re really interesting, so they’re driving me downtown to meet with uh ooh, ouch, those cuffs are a bit tight there, officer… officer (Q. Fortier). Ah, that is a beautiful name. I-i-is that Franchian? If you don’t mind, Officer Fortier, I’m going to just finish my voicemail to my husband. So Cecil. When I get downtown, I’ll explain everything to them, Steve and I clearly did not do this and that’s what I’ll tell them, they’re police! [chuckles] You know, they just wanna know the truth, and uh ooh uh, oh Officer Fortier, I am not done with my call yet. Uh sir, what-what are you doing with my pho- [beep]

Cecil: I… I… Let’s go to the weather.

[Good Luck with That” by Fathom All the Animals https://fathomalltheanimals.com]

Cecil: Listeners, we now go live to Steve Carlsberg’s press conference at City Hall.

Steve: This has been a difficult month for me, and for my family. I thank you all for hearing me out today. I’m glad to know that these criminal charges are behind me, and I think Sheriff Sam and their secret police, as well as their Overt Police, for listening to reason and overturning the charges against me. [sadly] But of course, I’m sad to learn about their most recent arrest. Breaks my heart to know that such a dear friend of so many years, someone who’s been in home many, many times, someone I consider family, could betray me, my bank, my town in this way. I don’t even know how to talk about such a breach of trust by someone so close. [crying] Carlos! Oh Carlos. Thank you Carlos, for your brilliant and thorough evidence that put Jesse McNeil in jail today. Our security guard of nearly 50 years committed a heinous crime, and he nearly sent the two of us to prison for it.

When Carlos arrived in my cell this morning, he was all smile saying he had figured it out. He called the Sheriff over and said, “Check Jesse’s skin for the same chemical they found on the doors.” Carlos had been experimenting on the gel that allowed him to reach his hands into refrigerators without opening the door, and thus lowering the temperature of the food inside. He’d developed this chemical. He’d developed this chemical in his temporary lab in a shed behind our house. The problem with the chemical wasn’t its effectiveness and intangibility. He had been able to make that work. No, the problem with the chemical is that it stained everything it touched a dull green, including skin. Carlos showed me his own hands, which were green from the fingertips to about halfway up his forearms. He said the last few times he had seen Jesse, Jesse looked ill. Not like a flu or cold, more like seasick: queasy, green in the face. Carlos didn’t put it together right away, because we all felt sick about not only the robbery, but the false charges against me.

The police report also showed that none of the cash tills on the teller wall were affected by the fire that broke out during the robbery last month. Which means the fire had to have started on the opposite wall, which is by the front door, Jesse’s usual station. The smoke from the fire and the three robbers waving guns provided a distraction for Jesse to cover himself with Carlos’ intangibility gel, sneak downstairs past my office, where he had locked me in earlier than day, and then unload the cash from the safe and carry it into the alleyway behind the bank where his car was parked. When the fire trucks arrived, Jesse ran deliberately in front of their hoses so that the gel would all be removed from his body before the police began questioning those of us who had been inside during the robbery. But, as Carlos pointed out, the gel stains the skin for a long time, water alone won’t remove it.

Sheriff Sam brought Jesse back in for questioning based on Carlos’ statements, and found Jesse’s skin was the same dull green as Carlos’ hands. But unlike Carlos, the green stain covered Jesse’s whole body, not only his hands, indicating he had used it to walk through walls, rather than merely reach to a door.

Carlos explained that he had Jesse in his lab many times, Jesse and all my employees come to my house regularly for dinners. Like I said, they’re family to me. Jesse had taken an interest in Carlos’ science projects, so Carlos showed Jesse his doorless fridge experiment. Not long after that, Carlos noticed that the rest of his intangibility gel was gone. He thought he had just run out, even though he had made plenty of it. Never occurred to Carlos, until he saw Jesse’s green face a few days ago, that Jesse had stolen it to remove the money from the vault and his criminal colleagues from their jail cell. While I was the only person with the key to the vault, Jesse as a security guard was the only person with master keys for the rest of the building. My office door is never locked, so I don’t carry a key for it. Jesse knew this and locked me into my own office. Then his three collaborators Richard, William, and Emma created a fake robbery of the cash tills to distract from his heist of the vault. Sheriff Sam was impressed with Carlos’ explanation and arrested Jesse McNeil on the spot. Jesse turned to Carlos and Sam and said: [very deep voice] “I guess I’m going to jail now.” Sam said: [Sheriff Sam voice] “Don’t flatter yourself!”

Anyway, I finally get to return home, thanks to my brother-in-law Carlos. Thank you Susan Willman for managing the bank in my absence. Abby, Janice, I’ll be home in a few. Can’t wait to see you both again. Oh, oh, maybe I’ll bake some scones tonight! Carlos showed me a way to do it without letting the butter too warm. Oh-oh yeah!

Cecil: I’m so relieved and so glad they put the right person behind bars. And I have never been so excited to try one of Steve’s scones. That really is neat.

Stay tuned next for someone playing on a saw. No, ahem, (-) that, with a saw. It’s just someone playing around with a saw. Enjoy.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Wisdom ages like fine wine. Knowledge ages like Boston lettuce.

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Calling (37)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  

Vernichtung - Destruction, Annhialation.

It was what you were named and what you were supposed to be but the only thing you wanted to destroy was Bucky Barnes.

The ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on enjoying it quite so much.

But when your past catches up to you in the form of the mad scientist who made you, Bucky might be one of the only things that can save you from yourself. You can’t run from what you are but with his help, you can fight back.

Current Word Count -  103,799

MASTERLIST

Moodboard by @talesofakindredspirit

Chapter Thirty Seven - Sign On The Dotted Line

Normally having a master assassin sneaking into your room to wake you up was an annoyance but on this rare occasion as the smell of coffee wafted over to you, you decided you could be happy about it. You felt the bed dip and heard a cup being set on the bedside table before a light kiss was pressed to your lips.

“Mmm, morning Natasha.” You sniggered.

Bucky pinched your hip and you squeaked. He paused in surprise and chuckled lowly.

“Doll, did you just squeak?”

“No.” You mumbled.

You felt his fingers creep back down to your hip and you dived under the duvet as a defence tactic. A low rumble of content vibrated in your chest as you snuggled under the covers, safe from prying hands. Or so you thought. There was a pinching sensation at your ass and you squeaked again, loudly.

Bucky’s laughter permeated the room as you grappled with the cover, trying to escape so you could hit him. Before you could emerge, you felt him slide under the cover to join you. His stubble brushed against your throat as he ghosted his lips across it and you sighed happily, thoughts of revenge banished. He hovered over you and one of his legs ended up between yours.

Accidentally you took advantage of the situation when the thick muscle of his thigh pressed against your core and you moaned lowly. Your hips jerked forwards of their own accord, seeking more of the delicious friction.

It was a mystery how you could have once hated this man. The days of wanting to hurt Bucky were long gone, now all you wanted was to…

“Wait, I used to hate you!” You exclaimed, sitting up abruptly causing him to roll out of the way to avoid being headbutted.

“Glad it’s a used to sweetheart but maybe we can get back to the not hating?” He suggested.

“No, I really really hated you Bucky. I used to daydream about snapping your neck.” You said excitedly.

“Thanks.” He said dryly.

“It was intense, I would have killed you if I could.”

“Alright, how exactly do you go from purring under me to remembering when all you wanted to do with my body was bury it?” He demanded with a scowl.

Oh right, Bucky didn’t know what you were talking about. He had no idea you’d just had a major breakthrough. If Vernichtung was kept locked away by your happiness, how did your anger at Bucky factor into that? And why had you never buried those dark feeling with every other dark emotion you’d ever had?

You surged forward and straddled him, pushing your lips against his.

“I. Love. You.” You whispered, punctuating each word with a kiss.

His arms circled around you and he pulled in closer.

Knock Knock.

You both froze.

“Kit Kat, you decent?” Tony called through the door.

“NO!” You shrieked.

Bucky groaned and rested his head against your shoulder.

“Well hurry up. I’m counting to ten and coming in.” Tony informed you.

The absolute last thing you needed was for your dad to walk in and see Bucky in your bed looking dishevelled.

“Get in the bathroom.” You hissed.

He glared at you as he silently stomped into the bathroom. You brushed your fingers through your hair.

“Come in.” You called sweetly.

Tony juggled the door open, two coffee cups and a box of doughnuts in his hands.

“Morning dad.” You said excitedly, too excitedly.

“Who are you and where’s my daughter?” Tony said with a suspicious frown.

“What?”

“You are never ever this happy without coffee.” Tony pointed out.

You grabbed the cup of your bedside table and took a gulp.

“Natasha already dropped a cup off.” You explained.

“Romanov left about two hours ago.” Tony said snippely.

Your eyes went wide and you tried to think of a way out of this.

“Bucky’sinthebathroom.” You admitted.

The bathroom door swung open and the man in question stepped out.

It was the single most awkward moment of your life. You were bright red, Bucky was carefully expressionless and Tony looked like he’s just swallowed a wasp.

“Barnes. Get out. I need to talk to my daughter.” Your father said evenly, restraining his anger.

Bucky shot you a glance and you glared at Tony who sighed heavily.

“Since you already brought her coffee, you can take this one.” He said to Bucky with false friendliness, shoving the hot liquid at the soldier who luckily had lighting fast reflexes.

“I’ll see you later sweetheart.” Bucky told you and you nodded tersely.

As soon as he left the room you and Tony were at each others throats.

“This is you not rubbing you and Barnes in my face?” He snapped.

“Did you have have to be so rude?” You demanded at the same time.

You glared at each other and you crossed your arms.

“Why is he in your room? Alone?” Tony asked furiously.

“Because it’s not the 1800’s and I’m an adult?” You responded snarkily.

Tony threw the box of doughnuts at you and you had to uncross your arms and grab it before it smacked you in the face.

“Eat your breakfast. We leave in half an hour.” He shot at you and stormed away.

“Where are we going?” You demanded.

“The City. You’re being called in to officially sign The Accords.” He said testily and slammed the door in your face.

You groaned loudly and fell back against the bed in a sulk.

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

“You must keep your ID badge on you at all times, failure to do so can have consequences.” A tall Nordic looking woman told you.

You glanced up at Miss… you’d forgotten her name already. The blonde had met you at the door earlier this morning, sweeping you away from Tony brusquely and bringing you to admin to process you.

“Keep ID on me or bad things will happen, got it.” You said and mock saluted the woman.

She gave you a look that you guessed was supposed to make you cower in fear but you just raised a perfect arched brow at her with an amused smirk and thought about all the ways you could easily take her out without so much as breaking a sweat.

She must have seen the thoughts dancing in your eyes and she backed down first.

“If you follow me, I’ll take you to the meeting now.” She said, a noticeable tremor in her voice.

Her high heels clip clopped on the marble floors as she led you to the packed room. Secretary Ross and his buddies who you had never bothered to learn the names of were all sitting above everyone else, looking down on the crowd of seasoned journalists, low tier politicians and Tony and Pepper.

You took your seat beside Tony and rather than wait for Ross to call everyone to order you spoke up loudly, getting everyone’s attention.

“Order in the court.” You called.

“Sorry, just really wanted to day that.” You admitted sheepishly to Pepper.

“Miss Stark, Mr Stark, Miss Potts. We’re here today so Miss Stark can officially sign the accords.” Ross said.

You waited for Tony to make a witty remark but he was sat back in his seat, silent as a mouse. He hadn’t said a word to you in the car either. Fine, let him sulk.

“I’m aware of why I’m here.” You snarked.

“Good, then we can get right to it. Unless there’s any other unsanctioned missions you need to undertake before we begin?” Ross said sarcastically.

“Gee, when you say it like that it almost sounds like the UN is upset. I’m sorry, did you want Spain to remain under the influence of a drug cartel smuggling illegal drugs into other countries, including the US?” You asked with mock politeness.

“We all get it Miss Stark, you’re a hero. What do you want, a parade?” Ross retorted.

“Nah, Spain is already throwing me one next month. Spain is one of the countries under the Accords as well isn’t it?” You said with a victorious smirk.

Tony kicked you under the table and you turned to look at him innocently. He and Pepper were glaring at you.

“Miss Stark, you have been out of the UN’s control for too long. Today we’re bringing you into the fold like should have been done a long time ago. That means from this day forth you don’t do anything without permission. You go where we say, you do what we tell you. If we say jump, you say how high. You are no longer a free agent, you are part of the bigger picture.”

You bristled. It had always been expected that you would sign the Accords since you had been outed, but you never realised what exactly it meant. It meant a loss of freedom. Nobody had asked you if you wanted to sign them and you realised that you didn’t. You did not want to sign away your life to Secretary Ross and his cronies.

“Here’s a question for you Rossy, if I can take down an entire mafia clan in one night then why do you have The Avengers sitting on their asses until a problem directly affects you? Seems like a waste of resources.” You asked calmly.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating Miss Stark.” He said.

“I’m not insinuating a damn thing, I’m straight up saying it. The Accords were supposed to protect the public by regulating powered people but it just shifted the balance of power. You use The Avengers as your own personal attack dogs, you abuse the trust placed in you because you are a selfish bureaucrat. You don’t give a damn about protecting people, you just want to feel powerful.”

“How dare you!”

“How dare YOU! I am not now, nor will I ever be a weapon for a man with an inferiority complex. The only people I will serve are the people outside these walls, the innocent ones who need a defender.” You shouted, standing up.

“So you’re refusing to sign the accords. Is that what you’re saying Miss Stark?”

“While the Accords are in your hands, yes I am.”

“Such a shame to retire so early in your career.” He sneered.

“The problem is that you think it’s a career, it’s not. I have the power to make a difference in people’s lives and as a very dear friend once told me ‘With great power comes great responsibility’. I will help whoever needs me, regardless of whether or not I have your permission.”

You were pushing it and you knew it but looking at Ross it wasn’t his face you were seeing. He was just another powerful man who wanted to put you on a leash and use your power for his own goals. You weren’t being irrational though, Ross wasn’t Docherty but he was not a good man and you were not going to hand over your control to him.

“Why don’t we all take a break and reconvene in a few minutes?” Pepper said authoritatively.

“We are not on your schedule Miss Potts.” Ross sneered.

“You are today.” Pepper said, dismissing them as Tony grabbed your arm and hustled you from the room.

You shot a heated glare of disgust over your shoulder before the door closed and Tony released you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He hissed.

“What I have to do.”

“This was not the plan. We came here so you could sign, not piss off and embarrass the Secretary of State in front of a room full of journalists.” He said, his aggravation driving his tone.

“For the record, what you’re feeling right now is how I feel every day.” Pepper informed him.

“That’s different. I approach the line, maybe put one foot over it. I don’t hurl them over the line and stomp on it!” He rebutted angrily.

“I am not signing that fucking contract. It’s never going to happen.” You told him loudly.

“Kit Kat do you have any idea what I went through for the accords? The Avengers were ripped apart over it. It took so long to get Steve to sign, I don’t need to have that fight with my own daughter. The Accords are safe, I wouldn’t have allowed them if they weren’t.”

“You were wrong. I love you dad but you were so wrong. The rest of you can sign and do whatever is right behind the scenes but I can’t. I can’t sign away control of my own abilities to somebody else.” You insisted, pushing your hair back in agitation as you tried to stop from pacing.

“You’re projecting your issues onto The Accords, this isn’t the same thing.” He said as calmly as he could.

“No it’s not but it isn’t that different either. I am sorry this puts us at odds but I am not going to just roll over and do what you think is the right thing when I know it’s wrong.” You insisted.

“They’ll arrest you Kit Kat, do you get that?”

“They might, but I won’t stay in a cage ever again.” You vowed.

“So that’s it? You’re going to throw away everything you’ve built, your whole life? Because that’s what will happen, you’ll be a wanted criminal. No more me, no more Pepper, no more Sam, no more Bucky. You’ll lose it all.” He raged.

You considered your words very carefully before you said them and looked Tony right in the eyes.

“I took decades of suffering for the chance to be good, to do good. I will not sign it all away.”

You turned on your heel and walked away, pushing the doors open and striding straight into the flashing lights of the press.

“Miss Stark, did you sign the accords?” Was the question being hurled at you by dozens of papparazi.

“I did not and I won’t be signing them.” You said, walking through the crowd.

“Why not?”

“Will you be retiring?”

You stopped and turned around. You could see Tony watching you from inside and you held his gaze.

“Retire? I’m just getting started. If somebody needs my help I’ll be there, I won’t wait for the UN to send me in.” You said with a smirk before your eyes went cold and you stared down the camera.

“I know you’re watching this Docherty, you always are. You wanted to unleash me on the world to create chaos, well here I am. But I’m not going to end the world, I’m going to save it, piece by piece. So next time Aliens attack the capital or a druglord tries to smuggle heroin into an innocent community and I’m there to stop it, don’t thank me… Thank Dr Jack Docherty.”

You calmly turned your back on the camera, on the crown and on the UN and walked away, feeling like for the first time you had actually done what you wanted, not what was needed or expected.

To hell with the consequences.

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

Me: *Aggressive listening to Power Anthems* Fuck you Secretary Ross!

This was such an important chapter for Reader's character development, I hope I did it justice :/

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes@fairislesheets @angieptt @meganjonezzzz@dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx@theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes@tarastudiesalot @captainamericasbeard @dropthepizza346@jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover@animegirlgeeky@jsmith509

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Seven Deadly Stops

You thought we were done, but we weren’t done.

Part 1 is here

Second

He's not a Brexiteer, she shortly learns.

The train hasn't moved in at least thirty minutes and Lily is definitely going to miss her reservation if it doesn't shift soon, resulting in one angry sister and at least five passive-aggressive text messages about disappointed hopes.

Petunia knows how to shoot for the guilt valve. She could make it an Olympic sport.

Lily is twenty-six years old today, and quite familiar with her sister's manipulative tricks, but sometimes the shot lands true and busts that valve wide open. She is not immune to Petunia’s arrows, though she is less susceptible than others.

Still, the tasty snack she’s just befriended is not a Brexiteer.

He might still be a cannibalistic murderer, but he is adamantly pro-EU.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

"Ever been to Côte Brasserie?" she asks him, shifting in her seat to ward off a numb bottom that somehow feels inevitable.

James frowns slightly. "Is that the French place?"

"Yes."

"I'm not a fan of French food."

"All French food?"

"I'm not a fan of France, full stop," he says decidedly, and with a look of distaste thrown in for afters. "Ever been there? They're all smug bastards."

So her tasty snack is not a fan of every country in the European Union, but that’s not a dealbreaker.

"You shouldn't subscribe to stereotypes," she airily retorts. "The French would say we're all badly dressed—"

"I've never worn socks with sandals."

"—and uptight, and sexually repressed."

"Well," he says loftily, "now you're just digging into my personal life."

"But suggesting that we're both dead is an acceptable segue into friendly conversation?"

"Acceptable or not, it worked."

"And?"

"I'm not sexually repressed, Lily."

"And I'm thrilled for you, James," she returns, smiling slightly as she mimics his stubborn tone, "but could you answer my original question?"

"Yes, sorry. No, I've never been to Côte," he admits, lifting one hand to scratch the top of his head. His hair is fucking beautiful, so much so that the adjective deserves the italics, not to mention the preceding profanity. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I've never been either, but I'm heading—well, I was supposed to be heading there for dinner with my sister, but that seems unlikely now."

"Oh, shit."

"Sounds about right."

"This transport system is such bollocks."

"Tell me about it."

He drops his hand into his lap, cocking his head sideways. "Maybe they’ll keep your table if we get moving soon?"

"It’s the person sitting at the table I’m worried about," she darkly intones, and slides her hand into her purse, her fingers closing around her phone. "My sister is what you might call high-maintenance, but not the good kind of high-maintenance."

"Elaborate?"

"I mean she's the kind of person you have to walk on eggshells around because she gets off on feeling mistreated," Lily continues, "but the things she gets offended about are never things that matter, just trivial nonsense—like, if I don't 'like' one of her Facebook photos, she'll assume that I'm slyly calling her ugly." She withdraws her phone and waves it in the air. "And since I've not been able to text her since the train stopped, she's naturally going to assume that I'm standing her up on purpose."

"Really?" He pulls a face. "Not that you're, like...in peril or something?"

"My being in peril would really put a dampener on Petunia's perpetual victimhood."

"Your sister's name is Petunia?"

Her phone is returned to her purse. "Spotted a theme, have you?"

"I think I understand why she's so unpleasant, with a name like Petunia," he says with an accompanying laugh. "She might as well have been born with dentures and a zimmer frame. Is she older or younger than you?"

"Older."

"Well, there you go," he simply concludes. "She's madly jealous."

"Of what?"

"Of you, obviously, and the pretty name your parents denied her. That's what we in the business call 'basic psychology,'" he adds, and taps his temple with one finger. "You're welcome for the breakthrough."

She glides serenely past the implied compliment, but glances at it over her shoulder with some interest as she goes. "And what business would that be?"

He doesn't blink an eyelid. "Haircare products."

"Haircare—" She lets out a loud, stuttering laugh, and he rewards her with another blindingly lovely grin. "Proximity to the human brain doesn't grant you a full working knowledge of human psychology, you know."

"I know," he agrees, "but it fit the theme of the evening."

"The theme being?"

"I blew us straight past Pride, remember?" James lands a gentle karate chop to the palm of his own hand. "Second stage: Envy. Your sister's a bloody shoe-in."

She rolls her eyes. "You’re reaching."

"Am not."

"Don’t get me wrong, you’re reaching with great accuracy—"

"As long as I’m right, it doesn’t matter how I got there." He slumps back in his seat with a satisfied smile. "Boom, got you. No regrets."

He is so very attractive.

It is so very hot on this train.

"Her husband’s name is Vernon," Lily quietly offers.

James lets out a quick, rough, viciously amused sound. "Of course it is. Nothing else makes sense. How big of an arsehole are we talking?"

"Well, he’s racist and sexist, and totally homophobic, and he thinks that Trump talks a lot of sense," she lists aloud, counting her brother-in-law's many fatal flaws on her fingers, "he’s into fox hunting in a big way and he often yells at waiters, so yeah, I’d say he’s hitting every major benchmark."

"I get you," says James, nodding wisely. "Fell out of the arsehole tree and hit every branch on the way down, right?"

"Vernon is the arsehole tree, and all must fear his branches."

"Good old Vernon."

"I always thought that getting married meant you’d found someone who you could be your best self with, but it seems to have worked the opposite way with them," says Lily thoughtfully. Her slightly narrowed eyes land directly upon his. "Or with Petunia, anyway. She’s definitely gotten snobbier, but I don’t think Vernon could get any worse."

"Maybe they have become their best selves," James suggests, "from their perspective, I mean."

"Their totally damaged perspectives? Might be."

"Vernon," James blankly repeats, like he’s trying to discern the flavour of something strange and unpleasant. "You know, I personally hold with the belief that if you can’t mash a couple’s names together, they’re pretty much dead in the water."

"What d’you mean?"

"I mean…how do you combine Petunia and Vernon in a way that sounds good?" He lifts his hands as if to demonstrate a hopeless situation. "Petunon? Verunia?"

Lily snorts. "Verunia sounds like verruca."

"It does, doesn’t it?" he agrees, and grins at her. "Possible name for a daughter?"

"Verruca Dursley," says Lily flatly, appalled by how fitting it sounds. She’s even more appalled by how much she’s grown to fancy a stranger in less than thirty-five minutes, but she shunts that matter aside. "Christ."

"Sounds delightful, doesn’t she?"

"Heaven save us all."

[shirtlesssammy]

14x12: Prophet and Loss

Then:

Drama llama Dean spent an entire afternoon in a workshop surrounded by half naked men, and now he’s gonna bury himself at the bottom of the sea.

Now:

We open with Dean in the ma’lak box at the bottom on the ocean.

It is uncomfortable to watch. I’ve had a lot of thoughts about Dean dreaming about being in the box. It’s a huge call back to 3x16/4x01 and him yelling for Sam and waking from Hell in his own coffin --the coffin Sam insisted he be buried in --the coffin that Cas, the naive angel that lacked the people skills to know not to just reconstitute him and leave him six feet under. This is as bad, if not worse, than Hell for Dean. Dean’s been very low in the past, but to listen to Death and admit that he doesn’t have free will over this situation? Gah.

It is just a dream though, albeit one that was so visceral, he woke to bloody fingernails and scratches on the motel wall. Sam, who’s also awake, tries talking to Dean about his plan.

For This is a Beautiful Shot Science:

Sam insists that there has to be another way. Dean sees no other option than to lock himself away with Michael for eternity. (Sidenote: I just saw this post come across my dash about Swan Song, and I’M DYING.)

Aaaaaand, it wouldn’t be Buckleming without some torture porn! A man has a woman tied up. He’s dumping salt in a vat of water. Oooh, maybe super crazy demon torture? J/K, just a regular girl who doesn’t deserve to die tortured. Sigh. He carves something into her arm and sends her into the water to drown. Positive Note: She’s fully clothed.

Nick’s in the hospital and and as soon as his leg heals, he’ll be spending a lot of time in jail. Nick’s playing the “devil made me do it” card. And he’s also crying silent tears. NOT BUYING WHAT YOU’RE SELLING, EUGENIE.

On the road, the brothers take a moment to further dissect Dean’s plan. Both Sam and Mary hate it. Cas and Jack don’t even know about it. Sam calls Cas --who clearly gets the newsletter Sam sends out to everyone. He knows.

Rowena and Cas have been on the case to extract Michael, but both have come up empty. Cas offers to speak with Dean. Sam doesn’t think that’ll matter.

Torture Man has a new victim! This time it’s a dude that he’s trussed and laid out on a plastic sheet. Torture Man utters warped Bible quotes while he slits the man’s throat. He then carves something into his chest. Oh man, I have a high capacity for violence on TV, but this WAS NOT COOL TO WATCH. Do. Not. Like. After carving up his victim, he hears whispers and says, “I am the Lord.”

On the road, Michael continues to scream and pound on the inside of Dean’s mind. And, guh, Dean pulls himself together and side-eyes Sam to see if he noticed. He didn’t. SAM. I mean, I get it, he’s doing what he can to stop Dean’s plan. And if Dean really wants to convince his brother this is the best idea, why worry if he sees you struggle?

Anyway, Dean jumps into talking about their childhood, and how he “wasn’t always the greatest brother” to Sam. Sam’s baffled as to where this is going. Dean was his constant family when they were kids. Sam recognizes that Dean was not just there for him as a brother, but he raised Sam. Dean continues, apologizing for siding with their dad, for trying to keep the peace. I AM LIVING FOR THIS CONVERSATION. Dean admits that John would send Dean away when he would get mad at Dean. And, like we know this, and I’m still crying? Sometimes I feel like while every episode adds to the story of Sam and Dean, they’re often forgotten or never mentioned again, so did they really happen? If I ended up in an alternate world where I was rich and famous, I’d think back and rehash the fun in that on occasion. In any event, 9x7 did happen, and it happened on multiple occasions. Sam makes it clear to Dean that he let all that go a long time ago, also please stop with the deathbed apologies. Kthxbye.

Nick outsmarts the cop guarding him and escapes from the hospital.

Sam’s found a case! A nice distraction from their Road Trip of Bad Decisions. They head to investigate.

They arrive at the home of the brother of the last victim.

I found this shot SO weird, but didn’t really think about it again until I saw @neven-ebrez post, and was glad someone put some thought into it. :D We’re kind of hit over the head with brother parallels here. Dean gets to hear what it might feel like for Sam when he’s gone. Sam explains that the graffiti carvings were really Enochian. 

The brother talks about a friend, Tony Alvarez, who was more into Bible quotes than the average Millenial.

A Story in Three Parts:

I mean, really. REALLY? Cas has no chill. He also has no filter and spills that he knows about Dean’s plan. At first I was like “oh Cas bby, no” but now I’m ok with it. It’s almost more painful to know that Cas knows about Dean’s plan when Dean doesn’t know about Cas’s deal. (And equally painful to think that Cas doesn’t think about his deal because he doesn’t see himself ever being happy.) (Natasha: curls up into an unhappy knot on the floor.)

Anyway, Dean doesn’t want to talk to Cas about his plan and jumps right into why he called. Does Cas recognise the name Tony Alvarez? Cas says that he’s in line to be a prophet. Dean cuts him off, awkwardly tells him it’s good to hear his voice, and hangs up. He instantly chastises Sam for spilling his secret. “Dean, it’s Cas. I had to tell him.” Sam and Cas are the best brothers-in-law. HUGS.

And if Tony is now a killer prophet, is Donatello dead? Dean checks in with Donatello’s doctor. He’s still around (brain dead and all, but not dead dead.)

Dean and Sam break into Tony’s home, which looks perfectly normal EXCEPT for a creepy office covered with Enochian writing and pinned up photos of victims. They realize that the killer is cycling through different biblical deaths.

Cut to the Sphinx Machine Shop, where a deranged Tony has strung up his next victim. He gets ready to burn him (and I’m just cringing in horror please stop). Fortunately, the Winchesters rush in just in time. Sam tackles Tony while Dean puts out the fire and saves the victim. Tony babbles that God was telling him to kill those people. He manages to get a hold of Dean’s gun and kills himself.

U G H

Anyway, just like that, the whole case is over.

They go over the case with Cas, who speculates that Donatello’s not-dead-yet status has somehow triggered a malformed line of prophets. The answer seems clear...they’ve got to kill off Donatello.

Nick breaks into his old house and flashes back to the trauma of his family’s deaths. (Somehow there’s still electrical service? I’m going to chalk that up to an overzealous realtor, perhaps.) The room ices over as the ghost of his dead wife, Sarah, manifests. He addresses her as...“Lucifer?” AWKWARD. Sarah, played by a jarringly different actress, tells Nick that she’s been a ghost...the whole damn time. She saw him get possessed by Lucifer and that is part of the unfinished business that keeps her tethered to Earth. There are some major you’re-cheating-on-me vibes coming from her.

“You wanted him,” she accuses him. “You still do,” she says, surprising absolutely nobody. Nick tells Sarah that he’s gonna go find Lucifer and he leaves her behind to be a super grumpy ghost for all eternity. Thanks, man.

At the Happy Daze nursing home (rly?) a doctor tells the Winchesters that pulling the plug on Donnie is the right choice. Dean practically smirks at Sam like, “SEE? The nice doctor is telling you to let me be tortured for all of eternity.” Cas meets them in the guise of a doctor.

Doctor Sexy: A visual story in three parts:

Sam heads off with the (real) doctor to see what sort of babbled “nonsense” Donnie’s been dealing. (I take a break to pedantically google the difference between brain death and vegetative states.) Dean gives Cas some serious side-eye and sass about checking up on Donatello, but Cas pulls him back. He explains that what he did to Donatello was necessary at the time, but he still regrets it. Dean attempts to commiserate and Cas spits out, “Please don’t compare this with your suicidal plan. Just STOP.” 

Dean pleads with Cas to support his decision. “This is goodbye?” Cas demands in response, and then SAM BURSTS IN. God DAMN it, Interrupting!Sam.

Ugh. MAN. Give Dean and Cas five freakin’ minutes to talk through their issues 2k19. (You know I love it AND I hate it, bbys.)

Anyway, the footage of Donatello shows him speaking Enochian. He’s muttering about striking down the first born of Egypt...he’s just spewing out the Word of God. Cas thinks Donatello’s mind is rebuilding itself and stumbling through old prophecies. (Me: passive-aggressively googles vegetative states again.)

They head into Donatello’s room where Cas, bless him, continues to show an utter lack of an appropriately scaled cover persona. He orders the real doctor out of the room with a cursory “Get out.”

While Sam and Dean wait for Cas to try his healing mojo, Dean flinches as he continues to struggle with Michael. Oh, Dean Bean.

They reunite with Cas just in time for Cas to have his breakthrough healing moment.

For Science

They turn off the life support machines and, after a brief jolt, Donatello pulls through. It’s a miracle! He’s probably not evil, right? I mean, the lack of soul will almost certainly steer him well. (Lord, we’re going to be stuck with this chicken-addicted prophet forever, aren’t we?) 

Donatello wants to know what happened and Dean slaps Cas on the shoulder and somewhat snarkily leaves the job to him. Dean. Bean.

Sam greets Dean back at the Impala with beer and misery. After the “win” of getting Donatello back, it’s time for them to head on home so Dean can lock himself into his torture box. Sam delivers an emotional speech about their shared experiences and accuses Dean that he’s checking out of the world too soon. “If you quit on us today, there will be no tomorrow.” Sam rails at Dean, begging him to give them all a chance to save him. “I believe in us,” Sam shouts and punches Dean in rage and pain. 

Reluctantly, Dean promises to go home with Sam and hold out for another option for as long as he can. Dean offers a contingency agreement: if they have no other choice in the future, then Sam and Cas have to let him go.

“Let’s go home,” Dean says to them both. Hooray! And...that should get to me but what really quietly wrecked me was Dean telling Sam quietly, “Don’t hit me again, okay?” before they all climbed into the car. Welcome, hello, my heart is now in a coffin at the bottom of the ocean.

After they all depart, the title card fades ominously to white. 

Everybody knows what makes Doctor Sexy sexy is his Quotes:

Well, the woman has a remarkable command of profanity.

If we could not have conversations that sound like deathbed apologies, I would really appreciate it.

Dean, it’s so good to hear from you.

Thank you, and it’s good to hear your voice.

“Doctor.” “Doctor.” “Doctor.”

Dean. If there’s a spark, a hope, then I have to try. You taught me that.

No rest for the self-destructive.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[biglifequestions-blog]

Big Life Questions

In 1991, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes; an incurable autoimmune disease that would have killed me were it not for the discovery of a breakthrough treatment some 70 years earlier. Had my great grandmother—who lived to be an octogenarian with four grandchildren and eight great grandchildren—been diagnosed with the same condition, natural selection would have swiftly eliminated her and the potential for offspring as unceremoniously as it had thousands of others. By pure chance, my mother, uncle, cousins, brothers, and I would never have been born. Twelve unique progenies, gone; an entire branch of the family tree stunted and withered at the hands of a few faulty genes.

As luck or God or the Universe would have it, I was born at exactly the right moment in history to not only survive type 1 diabetes but thrive. And here I am today at age 29: a walking, talking, breathing, body with blood circulating and nerves firing, alive with not only conscious thoughts, but also feelings, opinions, beliefs, quirks, aptitudes, and proclivities. From this foundation, I’ve created a full and complicated life that includes accomplishments, hobbies, aspirations, and emotional connections to other walking, talking, breathing bodies. That I am even sitting here now in a 600-square-foot apartment in Philadelphia with a Chihuahua named Peanut napping sweetly in my lap, able to freely express myself through the typed English word using an online platform capable of sharing those words with millions of people around the globe, all while my loving husband cooks his take on vegan enchiladas in our tiny kitchen is nothing short of a holy-shit miracle.

I wish I could say that the mind-blowing awareness of my mere existence—never mind the trillions of complex, improbable events that coalesced to have me adopt a Chihuahua—has compelled me to live each of my 10,500+ days on this earth to their absolute fullest. I wish I could say the knowledge of my finite and delicate reality has inspired me to follow my passions, live authentically, and weather life’s storms with grace and fortitude all while dedicating my time and energy toward the betterment of society. Surely a life as precarious as my own would catalyze an ongoing quest to align mind, body, and spirit; to be a role model for overcoming adversity against all odds.

Alas, I am not quite so enlightened.

Last Saturday, for example, I spent the entire day in worn-out sweatpants eating buttered toast and playing Candy Crush on my iPad. Between waiting for more bread to toast, butter to melt, and lives to reload, I scrolled through the bottomless pit that is the /AmITheAsshole sub on Reddit, grappling with the complexity of human social norms while also getting my daily bump of “my life really isn’t so bad” by contrasting my comparatively insignificant problems to the drama of Internet strangers. By sunset, I had succeeded only in eating a half loaf of bread and irritating my husband by finishing off the butter and bringing crumbs into the bed. (AITA?)

I’m sure you’re wondering how I’m able to justify such a flagrant misuse of my time. While I don’t exactly know the answer to that question, I can hazard a guess it’s because I’ve collected enough insignia of a successful life—academic degrees, a wedding ring, my handsome husband, a Pinterest-inspired apartment, stamps in my passport—that the pressure to fill my days with meaningful, enlightened activities has lessened. So long as I continue showing up to work, paying taxes, saying “I love you,” and periodically posting #humblebrags on Twitter about some new promotion or my latest vacation, what does it matter if I occasionally splurge on procrastination and carbohydrates?

…right?

Until last year, I had only peripherally considered that there might be more to life than just achieving and owning things. From high school honors to senior job titles to a committed relationship, these milestones were my markers of success, happiness, and security. I craved them, worked for them, plotted how I would make them happen, and invested all my energy into proving to the world and myself that I was smart, hard-working, lovable, deserving; often to the detriment of my own physical, mental, financial, and spiritual health.

Moreover, I was actively encouraged to seek more of these achievements: to play an instrument in both orchestra and band, attend academic summer camps, double major in college, study abroad, work late, work weekends, work, work, work. I believed these tangible symbols would unlock the secrets to all the Big Intangibles: happiness, passion, fulfillment, security, joy, peace, gratitude, love. And when those fleeting moments of accomplishment came and went, and the Big Intangibles didn’t instantly manifest, I turned to my old, worn copy of the “Perfect Life Checklist” (which I wrote myself at the age of 10) and chose my next goal to appease the restlessness and disappointment in my heart.

And then, after years of sacrificing sleep and sanity to acquire these tangibles, it all came to a climax in May 2018: I had just graduated from a prestigious university with my master’s degree, was months away from marrying my soulmate, and had just been offered a dream job in a new city. Life was perfect or as perfect as I could have contrived. I awoke in my fiancé’s bed the morning after graduation expecting to feel elated, happy, fulfilled; or at the very least, well-rested and content. It was the first Tuesday in perhaps my entire life that I technically had nothing to do and I felt completely, inexplicably…. empty. 

Where was the happiness I was promised; the light at the end of the tunnel I built, brick by brick? I felt a sudden urge to laugh followed by the very real experience of tears. 

And then, in response to those tears, a harrowing, gut-wrenching, pass-me-the-wine-no-the-whole-bottle question materialized before me as if posed by some older, wiser, separate self: Who would you be without all these labels, titles, and accomplishments?

Who am I?

The answer that came was enough to make me want to dive under the covers and let the carbon dioxide build up around me.

Before I go any further, I want to recognize that despite living with a chronic illness, the problems and concerns I’m describing here are distinctly privileged-people-problems. I understand and appreciate that my ability to grapple with questions about my identity and personal fulfillment are luxuries only possible because of that privilege. I don’t have to worry about basic necessities like where I’m sleeping tonight or from where my next meal will come. I don’t wake up worrying about whether I might get arrested, mugged, shot at, or bombed if I walk out my front door or if I might be persecuted for my skin color, openly practicing my religion, or loving who I love. That I even have health insurance to afford the medication that keeps me alive is a blessing that I am keenly aware not everyone with my disease has.

Yet it’s precisely this knowledge—that other people who were born into different circumstances must work a hundred times harder and maybe not ever get to the point I find myself at now—that makes answering these Big Life Questions even more important. With all my privilege and so few barriers standing in the way of me living a magnificent, inspirational, blessed life of service and passion, why am I not making every day, hour, and minute count?

I pondered that question again a few months ago when I was asked to give a presentation at an all-employee meeting for work. “All-employee” meaning, of course, the entire company; hundreds of people in-person and remote gathered in one moment to critically judge my outfit, throat-clearing tic, and the way I pronounce “gala”—or at least, that’s what it felt like. A naturally nervous public speaker, I practiced obsessively to minimize the risk of forgetting my own name and spent copious time working through every worst-case scenario. In the shower, on the train, before bed, in my dreams; I worried and rehearsed that speech so many times that my ultimate irrational fear of a light fixture falling from the ceiling and concussing me mid-word could have come to fruition and my lips would have continued mouthing statistics while my hands, of their own accord, gesticulated to slide 5 bullet point 2 at the 20-minute mark exactly as rehearsed.

This exercise was, like many of my endeavors, not borne out of passion and commitment to a good cause, but a calculated attempt to take on another “professional development opportunity” in the hopes that it would indirectly increase the likelihood of my future happiness by one, maybe two, percent. Because more responsibility at work = more money = more success, stability, and therefore infinite happiness, right? The irony of all this calculation is that an activity I expected to yield happiness had the unintended consequences of increasing my stress levels by 1000 percent and costing valuable time with my friends and family. 

And tell me, what exactly is the point of investing all this energy and being so completely exhausted if there’s no greater good, higher purpose, or feeling happy and inspired before, during, and after? What’s the point of tackling any endeavor if it’s only going to lead to a buttered toast/social media binge to cover the feelings of emptiness and dissatisfaction?

Until now, I’ve asked but not fully grappled with these Big Life Questions. But I want to. I want to wrestle and spar, analyze and critique until awareness turns into action and potentially transformation. In my short life I’ve had the opportunity to answer some medium life questions whose answers led to amazing, unexpected changes. Questions like, “What more do you have to lose?”, “Would you be willing to relocate?” and “Will you marry me?” I’ve answered and then watched life shift miraculously to accommodate my new conceptualization of what’s possible. And now, I feel myself standing at the edge of another new conceptualization with an ever-present awareness of my own potential, mortality, limitations, limitlessness, and connection to the rest of humanity. 

This blog is a chronicle of my attempts to answer and act on life’s biggest questions, including, but not limited to:

Who am I?

What is my greater purpose in life?

How can I find joy in the mundane?

How can I make the most of every day?

How can I be kinder to myself in deed and thought?

How can I honor and love my body?

How can I love unconditionally?

How can I forgive myself and others?

How can I overcome my fears?

How can I have more faith?

How can I live in the present moment more often?

How can I align my career and work with my passions and higher purpose?

How can I be of service to others?

If you decide to follow along, I hope my words can provide some perspective on how to begin answering your own BLQ’s, even if what I’m describing is a case study in what not to do. Consider what follows to be a record of hard lessons learned, a magnifying glass for bad habits, an arena for confronting fears and traumas, a whiteboard for exploring crazy ideas, and with a little luck and determination, a launching pad into the magnificent, inspirational, blessed life of service and passion I hope to live.

[rickssoberjourney]

Am I Ready to Surrender?

Like Bluto in the GIF I'm waving the white flag. I surrender! "To what?" you might be asking. Hard to say.

I've been fighting God for a very long time. But it wasn't always that way. I had a very emotionally intense "born again" experience during my senior year in high school. For five years or more, I considered myself to be a Christian who believed that the Bible was the inerrant Word of God. To me, if the Bible said it, I believed it LITERALLY...and that was final!

I sought God's will. I did all the crazy (read "immature") stuff that new Christians do. I prayed for parking spaces and to make that red light and I couldn't understand how God refused to honor my supplications. Imagine! The God of the Universe...the God that I worshipped...not doing what I asked! I reasoned that those things weren't really important and I chalked it up to my anthropomorphized god was just too busy. I accepted that...sort of.

I decided (notice I said, "I DECIDED") to become a minister. I didn't want to pastor a church or preach. I wanted to be a psychological counselor in the church. So, I applied to the University of San Diego for get a Religious Studies degree. USD is a Jesuit university and, if you know anything about the Caholic Orders, the Jesuits are the academics of the bunch.

I chose a Catholic university because they promised to let me grow in my own faith while the other schools (like Point Loma Nazarene University) were going to shove their religion down my throat with the goal of converting me to their faith. Nah. Not having any of that!

Of course, the radical thinking of the Jesuits bothered me, but I just dug my heels in and told myself that I wasn't going to listen to their teachings. I would simply put in my time, learn about the Bible, get a second major in psychology, and graduate. I wasn't having any of their theological mumbo jumbo.

Well one day in class, Father McDonald, a priest from Ireland with a brogue I could hardly understand said, "Scripture is a myth!" OMG!!!! I wanted to walk right out of class. I was really upset. Myth means "untrue," right?

But, somehow, I got it in my mind that I would listen to what the Jesuits had to teach me and I would use the brains that God gave me to weigh what they were teaching against my fundamentalist beliefs. That was a breakthrough of major proportions. It didn't end there.

By the time I graduated 4 years later, I was about 180 degrees away from my old fundamentalist self as I could get. It made sense to me that the Bible had been an oral history for centuries and that those stories had been passed down, family to family. I had no problem with the idea that the Old Testament was filled with stories, or "myth" is you will. The word "myth" simply came to mean something different.

Every religion from the ancient Greeks and Romans to the early Tribes of Judaism, to the Native American people, to modern-day Christians use myth to explain what we humans simply cannot understand.

I love the Native American story of how the stars got up into the sky. The Shaman explained that the Earth was dark and flat. The people wanted room to move around so they used tree branches to prop up the sky, poking holes in the firmament. Those stars were simply the sun shining through those holes.

So, I reasoned, if cultures had been telling stories to explain what they didn't understand, the early writers of the Bible probably did the same thing. Was it lying? No. The stories of Noah's Ark and Adam and Eve were simply that - stories. They were never meant to be taken literally and the ancients knew that.

I graduated, went to work as a youth pastor and Christian Education director for a large church in Scottsdale, Arizona. I spent over 12 years in various capacities in a number of churches from Arizona to California. But all during that time, something was happening to me.

For one, I was sturggling with the idea that I could be married with kids and be gay. I never felt that God hated me for that. I'm not sure why. And, as I struggled with my sexuality and what to do about it, my faith began to change as well.

The idea of a white-bearded humanoid that lived in the clouds just didn't cut it anymore for me. I began investigating other religions like Buddhism, Islam, and a variety of others. I came to realize that each of these schools of religious thought basically taught the same thing: loving God and my neighbor as myself. Self-sacrifing love.

I had one person tell me that was evidence that God existed. But, to my way of thinking, that just signaled that the human brain, no matter what culture, used the concept of god to explain life. It didn't convince me that there was a god.

Today, after coming out of the closet over 20 years ago and after experiencing everything from gay relationships, wanton sex, and even drug addiction, I find myself saying that I'm an athiest.

Really now...???

I'm a pretty introspetive person. I usually know why I do the things I do. There has always been this deep anger and resentment toward the god that I used to worship. And, in recovery, I have met that resentment in a different form.

I attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. I try to go every day. I learn a lot and I have found true support in those rooms. But, I have also found judgement and what appears to be passive-aggressive behavior on the part of my fellows.

How does that manifest itself? People that I know...people that I text with and am friends with on Facebook...will ignore my greetings. The look right through me as if I'm not there.

Resentment.

The same resentment that I feel toward the god I used to worship.

I'm savvy enough in the ways of psychology to know that when something bothers me that much, the problem is most likely mine. I can't possibly know why a person would behave like that but my codependent brain always takes it personally.

Jeeze! Where the hell does that leave me? Am I an athiest? An agnostic? Or, am I just acting like a spoiled brat who didn't get his way with God? I don't know that I have an answer for that just yet.

I do believe in my Higher Power...Icall it LOVE. I don't resent LOVE. But when I think about praying to God, that raises my hackles! When they say that Third-Step Prayer at meetings, it bugs the shit outta me! Oh, and just let someone decide to end the meeting with the Lord's Prayer and I get practically apopletic!

Why?

There's that resentment again. Someday, maybe I will discover where all that anger comes from. Maybe someday, if I stay open to the idea and to what my Higher Power has to teach me, I can put back together a realtionship with God of my understanding. A different God this time. One who loves me and nurtures me and wouldn't do anything to arouse such resentment in anyone let alone in me.

So, I quote the Book of Mark in the New Testament. A man approached Jesus, asking him to heal his son. Jesus asked, "Do you believe?" The man answered with gut wrenching honesty, "I believe...help me with my unbelief!"

So, that's where I'll leave it...

I believe...help me with my unbelief!

I surrender.

Amen

[quarterfromcanon]

You and Me, Always Between the Lines

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 18 - Right and Wrong [1,828 words]

Valencia opened a new message but hesitated over the keyboard. She chewed on her lower lip while she began to type.

Hey, girlfriend.

Highlight text. Delete.

Hey, girl.

Nine backspaces.

Hola, chica.

Valencia sighed and closed her eyes. She exited the app and returned to the home screen only to reopen messages immediately.

So, today’s the day. I’ve decided. I’m going Facebook official. 

Her thumb tapped send. She gripped the case with white knuckles. Within a minute, a reply appeared.

Whoa. Big step. How’re you feeling?

Good but also freaked out. I’m overthinking.

Have you talked to Beth about it? Is she with you?

Not right now. Multiple meetings until like seven o’clock tonight. She’s been sending me supportive texts in between.

Maybe you could postpone until she gets back?

I thought about it, but the time of day is kind of important to me. It’s a whole thing to try to explain here. I don’t know. This is probably silly. I’m just not sure if I can wait that much longer by myself.

A pause.

Do you want company?

She gulped past the sudden lump in her throat and gave the honest answer.

Sort of. I don’t want to ask for too much, though. I feel guilty. You’ve had to help me so many times as it is.

Valencia wiped a fingertip across her cheekbones. She watched three dots fade in and out of existence.

You’re my best friend. Best friends are supposed to come through when you need them.

The breath she’d been holding left her in a rush. Fresh tears spilled down her face.

I’ve been trying with all I’ve got to keep it together, but I guess reality’s hitting me pretty hard right now. If you’re positive you don’t mind... I do need you.

What time?

12:30, if you can make it?

I’ll be there.

___

“The door’s open!” Valencia responded to the familiar knock.

Heather turned the handle and poked her head into view. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Valencia greeted in a tremulous exhale. Her entire body was tense. The rims of her eyes were a vivid pink from crying. She flipped the phone between both palms on autopilot, faster with each passing second.

Heather entered the apartment and crossed the room. She held Valencia’s hands in hers until her friend relaxed. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Since eight, if you don’t count the floor pacing and bathroom breaks, so... four-and-a-half hours?” 

Heather settled on the couch beside Valencia. She waited a moment to consider her advice before she voiced it aloud.

“V, listen, it’s like we toasted on your balcony that time, y’know? You make your own rules now. Whatever pressure you feel... This thing people have about online transparency...” Heather shook her head. She took a deep breath and met Valencia’s gaze. “It’s no one else’s call but yours.” 

Valencia nodded, although the worry did not fully leave her features. Heather searched for the right way to articulate what she wanted Valencia to understand.

“If this is part of what you need to feel comfortable in your skin, it’s cool. If you don’t want everyone on your friend list to know your business, that’s okay, too. You’ve already had so many super intimidating conversations. Your sisters, your dad, your mom -- oh my god, your mom -- like, that alone is such a huge deal. You got through all that in less than a year. You’re really brave.”

Valencia smiled feebly, but then sobs overtook her. Heather spotted a box of tissues. She got up to pull a few free and brought them back. 

“Thank you.” Valencia blotted her cheeks with the Kleenex. “I know I’m making myself sound like a damn liar, but I really do want to do this today.”

“I get it.” Heather shrugged. “People don’t make this easy. Even with ones who seem like they’ll be chill, you don’t actually know until you tell them. There’s always a moment of uncertainty. Also this many people at once? That’s a lot of variables.”

“Yeah.” Valencia pocketed the crumpled tissues.

“So what’s the ‘whole thing’ about the time?”

Valencia rested her chin on a throw pillow. “1 p.m. to 4 p.m. is the prime posting time for Facebook.” She grimaced and searched the reaction that flickered across Heather’s face. “It’s not to maximize likes or get more attention, I swear. It’s just that --”

“You’re doing the Band-Aid approach,” Heather realized. “Quick as possible, all at once. If you post during hours with less dashboard traffic, that means even more waiting for stragglers who might have something to say. You’ll keep checking for notifications over and over. Doing this now means dealing with most of it in one cluster.”

“Exactly.” Valencia noticed the clock at the corner of her open laptop. “Oh God. It’s five ’til one.”

She restored the minimized tab to confront the rectangular button on the page. 

“Already set up,” she said, more to herself than to Heather. “Just a command away.”

She hovered the mouse over it, slid the cursor aside, and returned to the spot -- back and forth ad nauseam while Heather waited patiently beside her. Valencia withdrew her fingers from the touchpad like it scalded her. She rubbed the knees of her leggings and shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t press it. Here, you click it.” 

She tried to push the laptop to Heather, but Heather slid it back to her.

“It’s gotta be you,” Heather insisted softly.

Valencia tapped once and then flopped sideways to hide behind Heather. “I did it,” she acknowledged in disbelief. “It’s out there for everyone.”

Valencia Perez is in a relationship with Elizabeth Brighton.

“Yep.” Heather twisted her arm to pat Valencia’s shoulder. “You stuck to your plan.”

Valencia clamped her eyelids shut. “Now comes the more difficult part: the wait for the first response.” She texted Beth with trembling fingers to tell her that the news was publicly shared. Then Valencia sat up, but she still couldn’t bring herself to peek at the top blue bar. “Is there a bubble with a number?” she asked while inspecting the ceiling. “Did someone say something?”

Heather looked up from her own cell phone. “Oh, hey, you’ve got one.”

Valencia verified the statement in a split-second. Her complexion went ashen. She touched the single digit with the cursor and gave the inbox a moment to load.

Heather Davis (1)

“You sent me a message?” 

Heather could see Valencia in her periphery, turned toward her. She continued to sift through sites without actually reading anything and did not raise her head. “Yeah.”

“What does it say?”

Heather couldn’t suppress a faint laugh. “If I tell it to you out loud, that kinda defeats the purpose.”

Valencia returned her focus to the laptop. Heather glanced at Valencia’s face but then flicked to the screen instead.

I usually save this for major breakthroughs because it already sounds mushy and fake, and I don’t want it to lose all meaning, but today’s a milestone for you so it totally counts. I’m really proud of you, Valencia. I know everything about coming out has been so fucking hard, but you kicked ass. Congratulations. Digital high five.

Valencia scrolled up once more so she could scan the entire thing again. Heather decided to examine the plants on the balcony, but then Valencia’s arms were around her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Heather returned the embrace with some reticence. “I’ve gotta agree to disagree on that one.”

Valencia laughed and tightened the hug. Heather’s arms shifted to fully enfold her. A new red update appeared. She relinquished the hold and gestured to the laptop. “The bell’s got a number now, too.”

Valencia picked up the computer. She set it on her lap, clicked the notification, and beamed.

“What is it?” Heather prompted.

“‘Elizabeth Brighton commented on your post,’” Valencia read. “She says, ‘I’m a lucky lady.’”

Heather mirrored Valencia’s pleased expression. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

___

Later, when Heather was back in her car, a couple of text messages sprang to life on her phone.

ROOMIE

Valencia’s dating a woman? HER VERY FIRST WOMAN? Since when??? 

ROOMIE

I’ve never even met Beth. Have I met Beth? Have you?

Heather sighed and retreated behind her eyelids. She folded her arms against the steering wheel to lean on them. 

Incessant buzzing announced more messages.

ROOMIE

Do you think I was, like, her awakening?

ROOMIE

Holy crap. Who knew I had so much untapped bisexual influence? I PROMISE TO ONLY USE MY POWERS FOR GOOD. [wizard emoticon] [rainbow emoticon]

Heather peered at the ramblings without sitting upright. She bumped her forehead against her wrists in annoyance.

ROOMIE

Hey, where are you, by the way? If you’re already out and about, can you buy us some more eggs and coffee grounds? We’re running low. And by “low,” I mean I finished off both this morning. Don’t kill me! xoxo

Heather opened the conversation. She addressed only the most recent question.

I can get them on the way home. See you at the house.

She tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and left Valencia’s parking lot in the direction of the grocery store. While stuck at the first stoplight, Heather’s eyes began to bother her. A dull ache surrounded them. She blinked in an effort to calm it.

By the second intersection, her vision started to blur. “What the hell?” Heather rubbed furiously with the heels of her hands. “I’m trying to drive here.”

Her lungs burned as she rounded the bend.

“Can everything just chill? It’s kinda important for me to be in control of my faculties while I’m steering a three thousand pound vehicle.”

When the market was in sight, she heard an alert vibration.

“Rebecca Bunch, I swear...,” Heather mumbled. She parked and snatched up the cell. The contact name wasn’t ROOMIE this time.

V

Twelve comments, all positive. I can’t believe it. Thank you again for everything.

Heather’s eyesight swam until the letters were beyond recognition. She felt the warm moisture overflow and tumble down her cheek. A similar trail of water traced along her nose.

“Oh my god, stop.” Heather swiped upward with a curved finger and touched the irritated ducts. “What is going on right now? Get back in there.”

It was no use. The more she fought the urge, the more tears emerged to join the first two. Heather puffed out an exhale. She rolled her eyes skyward. “Okay. This is happening.”

She sat miserably still and permitted the unshakable emotion to rise. A faint whimper escaped the back of her throat, but she gulped it into silence. Minutes ticked by on her dashboard. “Ugh, get it together, dude.”

Heather dabbed the evidence away with her sleeves, picked up her phone, and texted back to Valencia.

See? The worst is over. I’m really happy for you.

She meant it.

Truly.

But it was some time before Heather regained her composure.

[squishymochisoo]

dark matter - yoon jeonghan oneshot

 sypnosis : you are a scientist specialized in space, you’ve been working on a research paper for months on dark matter and dark energy. after hitting a breakthrough, the new colleague to the department, manages to show the world his work on a research paper similar to your research idea.

characters : y/n, yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin (just a tiny bit though)

 word count :1,787 words

: surprisingly not that angsty to me?

again i know i said short break for me to study,, but i really really really wanted to write this. ok bye! hope you enjoyed it!

⭐️⭐️⭐️

“and done!” you said as you pressed the full stop key on your laptop. you smiled widely as you looked through your research paper on the effectiveness of dark matter and why dark energy is present. a research that you placed months into. you specialized in the research sector of space research, working under big bosses who served NASA. outerspace has been your interest and even hobby since your were twelve. looking at the stars, ursa major and cassiopeia being your favourite.

you felt like this has been your best work yet. it felt so surreal that you finally finished this research paper that took countless nights and coffees to finish. you glanced at the clock, 2.38 am. you sighed and closed your laptop. you felt a huge weight lift of you.

all you had to do now, was proof read and just needed to double confirm everything not wanting to make a mistake. this needed to be a mistake proof paper. you couldn’t wait to tell the world and your bosses about this.

proofreading a 87 page paper took a few days and that came with doing up a perfect model to show your bosses.

but of course. all the hours and days you put into this research goes to waste.

“omg y/n have you heard!” seokmin your close colleague comes running to your desk. you looked up from your laptop saving your research paper after finalizing the last page.

“hmm?”

“someone from our department had a breakthrough on dark matter and dark energy! the bosses loved it!” you furrowed your eyebrows. it couldn’t have been you. nobody knew of your research on dark energy and matter.

“w-who?” you stuttered, you regret asking it because you wish you could unhear everything.

“oh yoon jeonghan? he’s new! he carried forward this research when he entered our department last week!” seokmin jumped excitedly upon the new found research not noticing your sour glum face who tried to fake a smile.

of course, you couldn’t fake a smile. this was your research something that you had in the bag and you found the answers to it. but it was taken from you. it was like being robbed in bright daylight.

you were angry more than anything. pissed even. most of your work had been stolen by your over achieving, power hungry colleagues. so far three of your works prior to this has been stolen. and by stolen you literally meant stolen. that son of a bitch literally took your paper from a to z and changed the name on the cover. you just wished you had the heart to tell them off. you would punch them, if they weren’t so overpowering, and literally best friends with many of the high position bosses in your company.

it was unfair.

the one paper you were honestly so damn proud of just gone. it was fucking gone.

nobody knew your name as a scientist. not even your bosses believe you are capable of having this job. to them, you barely had any idea. and this was your shot to proof everyone wrong. but dreams are meant to be shattered right?

the news about jeonghan continues in the air for a couple of days almost two weeks when it died down. and in those two weeks, it moved to the desk right next to yours. everyone had a pit stop to his desk to chat him up or congratulate him.

honestly, you wouldn’t be this angry if he wasn’t placed next to you. you fumed with anger every time you heard the world dark energy or dark matter.

you didn’t want to be petty, because you read the paper and it was actually good and it wasn’t your work.

but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling this way.

 ---

you always felt his stare from your left, he stares as if expecting something. you heard the rolly chair moving before light footsteps were heard. you continued staring at your laptop trying not to turn.

“ehem” you heard him cough. you rolled your eyes before turning to him, raising your eyebrows.

“hi, i know we haven’t talked at all, but since i’m your desk buddy maybe we could be friends?” he smiled and put his hand out. you stared at his hand then glancing at his face. before nodding and looking back to your laptop.

“sheesh.” you heard him mumble.

at least you didn’t roll your eyes at him and curse him. you sneered in your head.

it was the next day where, it was nearly 12 am and only the two of you decided to work late. you sighed loudly. you couldn’t seem to find a new research angle. you glanced at the stack of papers that sat by your desk for the past two weeks.

you forced a small chuckled. and threw the 87 paged research into your trash can. before grabbing your bag and going home. you felt jeonghan’s stare on you but you were too distraught to even think about it.

jeonghan walked closer to your desk when he realized that you weren’t coming back. he glanced at the trash can and slowly reached out for the paper.

“references, acknowledgements..” jeonghan mumbled under his breath as he scanned through the paper.

“wait this is a research paper, why did she throw it. crazy girl.” he shook his head. his other hand slowly digged through the trash can, grabbing what he thinks it the first paper. he stared at the paper. blinking every few seconds, not sure if he was seeing it right.

“effectiveness of dark matter and why dark energy is present in this universe.” he furrowed his eyebrows. scanning over the name on the paper. yours. seeing the date. and it was way before his breakthrough got known. her research date. well it started way before he started.

jeonghan took the whole stack of papers out and flipped through the paper reading through it.

“what that fuck? this research paper is literally perfect,” he stared at the paper, hell it was better than his.

“why didn’t she publish this?”

and at that moment, jeonghan realized why you acted and why you were distant. because if he was in your shoes, he would have done worse.

 ---

“y/n!” you heard jeonghan shout your name as you walked to the main entrance of your workplace.

you turned around and stopped for jeonghan who was running towards you. you raised your eyebrow.

“hey, i’d just like to say, i’m sorry and deserved to have published your paper. i read it last night and it was perfect. it was the most polished work I’ve ever seen.” your eyes widened. you threw that paper away you never wanted to hear of it’s existence.

“you looked through my trash?” you angrily asked. boy you never thought you could get more annoyed at him.

“i’m sorry bu-“

“but nothing, just never talk about that paper.” you mumbled and left him standing there.

the whole day you felt his stare on you. as if trying to figure you out.

a part of you wanted to talk about your paper excitedly to him and talk about the best parts in your research but you just couldn’t seem to do it.

---

the next morning when you arrived at work, you saw a cup of coffee on the table. you furrowed your eyes from your peripheral vision seeing jeonghan slightly turning his head towards your table.

you sat down, face still stoic and took a sip of coffee.

this happened the next day.

and the next.

and the next.

and the next.

and finally, you cracked. you glanced at the coffee at your table and turned to jeonghan smiling lightly at him.

and that’s how jeonghan figured you opened up to him.

weeks past and you were usually with him during work hours, talking and sometimes even making jokes.

you realized that he was actually a sweet little being that everyone needs to love. you recognized his for his talents in his work and he can sing. like woah.

---

it wasn’t weird for the both of you to over time on your work and work late on research. but it was different today. he turned to you softly calling out your name that made your heart slightly skip a beat.

“why aren’t you recognized for your talent?” his soft gaze on you awaiting an answer.

“i don’t know.” you mumbled. he scoffed.

“i’ve seen your work and the amount of research put into it. it’s amazing. why are the others always doubting your skill?”

you swallowed.

“well,” you told him about your research and how it gets stolen. you tell yourself that it comes with the job. sometimes things come and go.

“you worked on the vectorial gravitation paper? and the paper about dark matter and how relates to the big bang? that was my favourite paper! that basically inspired me to do my paper!”

“well i’m glad i indirectly inspired you.” you smiled sadly.

“but they stole your work? word for word? what the fuc-“ jeonghan stood eyes filled with anger.

“what kind of scientists are they!” you shrugged.

“you can’t let them do that!”

“they already did. do you think the boss would believe me if i told him? i’m just a employee that can’t even do here work right! i’ve thought about this for countless of hours, and all the outcomes i could think off gets me fired! i love this job. i love the research and love everything about this job. i would never give it up especially it means to let someone steal my work.”

“but getting your work known is one of the best parts. that’s the scientist dream.” jeonghan intercepted.

“i know.” you whispered.

---

the next day you felt empty. it was as if you ranting to jeonghan only brought back up memories that you wanted to forget to badly. you just wanted to move on with your life. something you wished you could do.

you trudged to your table where a coffee resided. that made you crack a tiny smile. however, there was a manila folder than resided beside your coffee. you reached out for the folder flipping it open.

the title was ‘why the big rip is going to happen and why’. you furrowed your eyebrows, you weren’t doing a research on the big rip, it was way beyond what you thought you could achieve. you continued flipping through the pages. there were only two sheets of paper and there was a small explanation on the big rip theory. as you turned the page a neon yellow post it caught your eye.

 work this research with me? 😊

[k-renne]

CHAPTER THREE - LOVE REIGNS

SUMMARY: Ben Solo loved you, well maybe he still was in love with you but he tried to shove that aside, that was in the past. Now he had to worry about finding a wife, a princess that he’d marry to rule by his side on Alderaan. His days of Jedi training were over, and it was time to play the part of a prince.

TAGS: @kyloholic, @daisysridrey, @cryxlowrites, @little-miss-ren

MASTERLIST

Ben’s eyes fluttered open as he felt the warm sun on his face, looking up to see you smiling down at him. His head was resting in your lap as you combed through his hair, placing little flowers you found in the field amongst his locks. Ben smiled back at you, reaching his hand up to touch you face. Just as soft as he remembered, wherever he was he didn’t want to leave.

“My sweet princess,” Ben hummed, sitting up to capture your lips. They were even softer, Ben smiled into the kiss as he felt the flowers you placed fall from his hair. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, afraid that if he didn’t you’d just drift away. The kiss grew more intense as you opened your mouth to him, your moans music to his ears. As his heart raced he felt everything fade away, his mind waking from his dream. He tried holding on to tighter, trying to go back to sleep and to the land of dreams. “No!” He woke with a shout, alone in his bed all hot and bothered.

His chest ached as reality set in, you were long gone and most likely hated him. He cursed his body for betraying him, still aroused even when all he wanted to do was wallow in his misery. It wasn’t even light out yet, but he didn’t want to go back to sleep. As always he’d dream of you, and though in the past he’d welcome it now it’d only bring him heartache, reminding him of something he could no longer have.

Maybe if he just stayed in bed today nothing bad would happen, Ben felt too depressed to get up. Of course, that was his plan until he heard a knock on his door.

“Oh, hello Master Ben. Your mother requests that you meet her in the dining room for breakfast,” C3PO addressed Ben.

“I think I’m going to pass on breakfast today C3PO,” Ben moves to close the door.

“Please Master Ben, your mother has important business to discuss with you regarding a mission. I urge you to go,” C3PO presses.

At the opportunity of a mission Ben perked up, that’s just what he needed. To get away from this whole marriage business and practice his skills as a Jedi once more was everything he wanted right now. It was just the thing to cheer him up. Ben got dressed in his Jedi robes in a hurry, rushing past people to meet with his mother.

“Hey Mom,” He waved, before stuffing a piece of bacon into his mouth. Leia shook her head, just like his father she thought.

“About the mission, you won’t be going alone,” She began, bracing herself for Ben’s reaction.

“Is it with Poe?” Ben asked. He hadn’t been on a mission with his friend in a while, busy training Padawans at the Jedi Temple.

“No, it’s with Y/N.”

Ben put down the toast he was about to eat, shoulders slumping. “Mom I can’t go with her, she hates me. It’ll never work,” Ben shakes his head.

“She doesn’t hate you, she’s just stubborn,” Leia counters.

“No kidding,” Ben scoffs.

“Look, you two used to work great together and if you can put aside your differences you’d be perfect for this mission.” Leia explained.

“I don’t know...like you said, she’s stubborn. And what even is this mission?” Ben asked.

“The Resistance is making a move to hit the First Order where it hurts, the Dreadnaught. It needs to be taken out before it does any more damage.”

“And how will we do that?” Ben questions.

“You’ll see, I have a plan for you but I just need to wait for Y/N.”

“She’s agreed to this,” Ben said incredulously, now that he couldn’t believe.

“Y/N is one of my most committed officers, of course she agreed.” Ben sighed, he knew his mother was right. It only reminded him of last night, how you only came because of his mother. You were loyal, but not to him.

“Of course…” He sighed. Every ounce of hope he ever had with you always was diminished by your loyalty to his mother and the Resistance. “Let’s hope we can work as a team and not enemies.”

“You two are not enemies, Ben. You both are on the same side.” Leia shook her head.

“Yes, but with the way things have been going lately, she clearly hates me.” He crosses his arms as he leaned back, the food no longer interesting him.

“If she hates you so much, why would she buy you that calligraphy set?” Leia asked as Ben blinked, sitting up straight and unfolding his arms.

“How do you know that?” He questioned as Leia shook her head with a small smile.

“She asked me where it was that your room was. Well, where you had been staying. She wanted to deliver it there rather than amongst everyone else.”

“Now that I think about it, she probably did that so no one knows she got me something.” He rolled his eyes but Leia sighed.

“No. She did it because she knew that that would be your favorite gift out of anyone else’s.” She leaned forward. “In my opinion, I think she wanted to make it more intimate and personal.”

Looking up at his mother and taking in a deep breath, he blushed. “Intimate…” Thinking about the dream he head, he lowered his head. “Yeah.”

Finishing up breakfast with his mother before the to retracted to the command room, Leia stood at the center as Ben stood to a side. Waiting. He knew you’d be coming in in any given second and he honestly didn’t know what to expect. After what happened last night, he was sure you were going to keep your distance after the revelation.

But a part of him, the one that always hoped and never gave up on it, prayed that you’d feel the least bit of sorry and want to stay close to him. He didn’t care for an apology, he knew deep down you must’ve felt something still. Whether as friends or lovers. It had to be there.

“Welcome, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Leia.” You bowed your head, only to see Ben. “Ben.”

Sucking in a small breath, he simply bowed his head towards you as he watched you stand across from Leia, furthest from him. He couldn’t help but frown.

“I send my two best to do this. I know you two can. It’s a simple mission, but you two have to work as a team and not get caught.” Leia said, eyeing either of you. “The Dreadnaught is one of the most powerful First Order ships. I need you two to get inside and take down the power or shields of the canons temporarily so we can lead our attack. Make it quick and do not linger for too long. There are plenty of powerful First Order officers in that ship and will be willing to capture and kill both of you. You two are well known, from royal families and carry high titles. I trust you two will keep eachother safe.”

“Yes, general.” You nodded, Ben looking at you. If anything, he wanted to keep you safe. He was the one with the Force.

“And, Ben.”

“Yes, mother?” He quickly turned his head.

“Be limited on the Force, only use it when you know you have no other options. I don’t need Snoke sensing you out.” Leia commanded as he nodded.

“What about my lightsaber?” He questioned.

“I rather you stick to a blaster just in case. I don’t need anyone knowing they have a Jedi aboard their ship.” She breathed. She more worried about Snoke than anyone else. She knew how easily her son could defend himself from lousy First Order officers and troops… but Snoke? She knew he was strong but she didn’t know how strong, and she didn’t want to risk Ben just to find out.

“Will do.”

“Wonderful. I know you two can do this. I have hope.” Leia eyed either of you. “May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you.” You and Ben echoed, only to look at each other before walking away, aiming for the hangar.

You watch as Ben flips a few switches of the stolen aircraft, preparing the ship for its jump to hyperspace. Getting inside the Dreadnaught would prove to be a difficult task but you had a way to slip through their shield undetected. Ben watched in admiration as you worked, you always had a knack with coding.

“Missing your lightsaber already?” You teased, seeing Ben staring sadly at his blaster.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ben narrowed his eyes. He knew that him choosing to train as a Jedi had some part in making you break up with him, and he was still resentful.

“Nothing, why are you being so moody?” You rolled your eyes. This was not the time or place, Ben was acting so unprofessional.

“I’m moody? That’s rich coming from you,” Ben shot back.

You knew you shouldn’t be fighting with him, not now as you were sneaking through the Dreadnaught. You hold your tongue until you get into the system which controls the canons, as you work to dismantle it you can’t help but reply to Ben. “Why must you always make me angry?” You shook your head.

“What did I do to anger Y/N, the perfect spoiled princess?” Ben’s voice is laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, do you want to go there? Do you forget why we even broke up?” Emotion was high as you raised your voice.

“I remember exactly why you left me,” Ben said bitterly.

“Really? Cause I don’t think you do.”

“You left me when you should’ve tried fighting for this!” Ben lays his grievances on the table. There was so much more you could have done, you could have given him a chance but he didn’t even get that.

You remembered when you broke up all too well, as much as you tried to forget it. The memory was as clear as day. You were giving Ben a surprise visit to the Jedi temple, you had missed him and hadn’t heard from him in months. But when you got there you weren’t greeted by the excitement that you’d come to expect, Ben seemed much more interested in working on his new lightsaber than talking with you.

“Ben, can we please do something together?” You asked your boyfriend.

“Princess please, I’m kind of busy with this,” Ben was growing impatient with you, he was almost done with his new lightsaber and you had come at the worst time. Normally he’d be beyond elated to see you, but he was just about to have a major breakthrough with his crossguard design.

You huffed, not liking the way he said princess. You came all the way out here in the middle of the outer rim to see him and he was completely ungrateful. “But you already have a lightsaber,” You pointed out. You didn’t understand his fixation, and his distance from you was beginning to feed into your worst fears. He doesn’t love you anymore. He cares more about being a Jedi, he finds you boring. Your thoughts tormented you.

“Not like this one, you wouldn’t understand but I can’t talk right now.” Ben responded

You hated that, he never wanted to talk to you about anything with his new Jedi life and it made you feel closed off to him. Worse he never answered your calls, cancelled holo dates, and when you did talk he was distant--not truly listening.

“I can’t do this anymore,” You got up. You needed to leave before Ben broke your heart any more. Ben missed the tears in your eyes, simply thinking that you just were impatient and going back to work on his lightsaber.

“How can I fight for it when you were never there to listen!” You reply.

Ben remembers when you left him, he thinks about it often. It’s the stuff that makes up his nightmares, your voice taunting his dreams. He still didn’t understand it, his only justification being that you hated him.

“Ben, I think it’s time that we end this.” You say, as you pack your stuff.

He was just about to tell you the good news, that he completed his new lightsaber and he was excited to show you. He stiffened, what did you mean? Why were you packing, were you leaving him? A thousand thoughts raced through his mind in a panic.

“What? Why? Everything was going perfectly,” He shook his head.

“You truly are oblivious if you think that,” You slammed your suitcase shut.

“Oblivious, what’s this about? Is this about me leaving to train as a Jedi? You said you were okay with that…”

“It doesn’t matter Ben, nothing I say to you matters anymore.”

Ben grabbed your wrist, preventing you from leaving his room. “That’s not true,” He shook his head.

“As long as you’re a Jedi, it will never work between us.” You blamed his training, it changed him. He didn’t seem to care about you anymore, before he called you almost everyday and now he didn’t even send letters to you anymore. You knew it was over and you wouldn’t let him drag it on any longer.

“You really are mad about me training, I thought you were the reasonable one,” Ben scoffed. He was frustrated with you, that you didn’t understand his one passion in life. He felt like he was losing you.

“That’s not-you know what forget it, I’m leaving,” You pushed past Ben, storming out of his hut.

“Hey! Come back here, this isn’t over Princess-” Ben called out to you.

Ben is brought back to the present by your voice, “You hurt me Ben, I thought you would’ve known that. You’re the one who can read minds.” And it still hurt, it hurt that he didn’t even know what he did wrong.

Ben opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted as the door opened, revealing stormtroopers and General Hux himself.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the traitorous prince and princess. It’s like you were just asking to be caught, the whole ship could hear your arguing,” Hux chuckled. Before he could do anything, you quickly finished the code-successfully shutting down the exterior canons.

“Seize her,” Hux commanded, pointing to you.

Taking a defensive step forward, as if to prevent them from taking you, one of the stormtroopers slammed their blaster against his jaw, sending him down as you shouted, “Ben!” Feeling their hands wrap around your arms, you tried to thrash around, to get them to let go so you could reach for Ben, but they pulled you away. “Ben!” You called out again.

Rubbing his jaw and standing back up, Ben was just about ready to rush to you, that is until a pair of troopers blocked his path. “Y/N!” He yelled, watching in fear. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a simple mission, for either of you not to get caught. But your emotions got the best of both of you… And here you were, being dragged away as Ben watched, unable to do anything. “Y/N!”

“Oh…” Seeing the look on Ben’s face and the tears forming in his eyes, Hux faked a gasp. “Oh, I see…”

“What?” Ben spoke through a clenched jaw, eyes bouncing between you and Hux. “WHAT?!”

“You two… Is she your… girlfriend?” Hux asked with a small tilt in his head, a fake look of worry spreading across his face. “Oh, no… you love her, don’t you?”

“What do you want?!” Ben snapped. “What are you going to do?! Take me instead!” He begged, teeth tight as he thrashed.

“No, no… I have a far better idea.” Hux grinned, “An idea you will very much enjoy, I promise you that.” Waving his hand for the stormtroopers to fall, Ben shifted his eyes between the troops and Hux, confused.

“W-what, what are you doing?” He asked, looking back ahead and seeing you being forced into a room. “Where are you taking her?!”

“You will see.” Hux grinned, aiming for the same room, approaching it as Ben’s face scrunched up, knowing very well he couldn’t use the Force but he had to sense out Hux’s intentions… And just by the grin on his face, and the look in his eyes, Ben knew nothing good was ahead.

“Let go of me, let go of me, filthy bucket brain!” You exclaimed, “I said let go!”

Shoving you back onto a metal chair, clamping your wrists and ankles with tight restraints, your heart skipped a beat. “As you wish, princess.” One of the troopers spoke, standing on either side of you as Hux entered, Ben following.

Looking into the room and seeing you being restrained, Ben thrashed again, trying to free himself to release you from being held captive. “Y/N! Get her out of there!” Trying to snatch his arms away, Hux grew impatient and knocked the wind right out of Ben as his fist came into contact with Ben’s stomach.

“BEN!” You cried out, hating the situation you were in. As much as you claimed to have disliked Ben, you never wanted to see him in harm's way. You didn’t want him getting hurt, but the deeper you were falling into the situation, the more you blamed yourself for it all.

“Putting a death sentence on either of your heads is far two easy. With a swift shot of a blaster is too… kind. Especially for the princess and prince who help guide the Resistance. Let alone, a lousy Jedi.” Hux spoke as Ben’s fists balled up, jaw tighter than before, almost as if his teeth would shatter with the anger that was burning within her veins. “I’ve decided something more… cruel.” Turning to look at Ben, Hux grinned, “I think you may like it.”

“What are you going to do to her?!” He lunged, but the stormtroopers held him back.

Turning away, Hux moved over to where a small, metal table had sat. “Torture, of course.”

Watching Hux reach for a taser like weapon, Ben flinched in his spot, lunging forward and nearly bringing the troopers with him. “Stop! No! Hurt me instead! Not her! Please!” Ben begged, but Hux ignored and powered the small weapon as your body began to shake in fear.

You were terrified, you felt yourself breaking out into a sweat as Hux’s hand grew closer and closer to your neck. “This will only hurt a lot.” Hux grinned, your body being sent into a jolt as the shock ran throughout your body from the contact, leaving you whimpering in pain.

“Stop! Stop, please!” Ben wailed, the sight of you being tortured while he couldn’t do anything, breaking his heart. “STOP!”

“Aw, do you hear him begging for me to stop?” Hux asked you as your body vibrated, your tears becoming more and more prominent as you panted. “He really must…” Shocking you again, you yelled, “Love you to…” Shocking you a third time, you cried even louder, “Want to switch places.”

“STOP IT!” Ben yelled, throat aching. “PLEASE!” Feeling his chest heave as he watched Hux shock you more and more, Ben couldn’t take it. The sounds of your yells, the feeling of your pain surging through him and the sight of you crying was sending him over the edge. He was reaching his breaking point… His tipping point. “ENOUGH!”

Falling still as the weapon fell from his grip, Hux choked out. Without realizing it, Ben had reached into the Force and stopped Hux’s breathing. Choking him. Choking him until the man couldn’t breathe any longer.

Yes, choke him. Feel the rage run through you. Turn that anger into hate! Let it control you! Finish him off! The power of the dark side is strong with you, young Solo.

Instantly snapping out of it, Ben panted, afraid of what he had done. Using the dark side of the Force, something he had been warned to never use… But you were suffering, you were in pain and it angered him that he couldn’t do anything… And his anger got the best of him.

You are weak. Foolish. You can not protect her. You never can and you never will. You thought you lost her forever then? You are about to lose her forever, now.

Opening up his palm before forcefully closing them, the four troopers in the room were sent against the walls with a harsh bang!, leaving Hux to be the only one conscious. Hearing the sounds of his heavy breathing fill his ears, Ben used the Force to open up your restraints, you falling limp in his arms as he instantly picked you up. Exiting the room quickly, he used the Force to lock the door so neither of the five could chase after the two of you. “I’m going to get you home safe, I promise you.” Ben said, holding you close to his chest as you had tears still slipping down your cheeks, your body too weak to move. “We’re going to get out of here.”

[topazshadowwolf]

False Hope (Chapter 5)

After the human left the underground, Sans is left trying to piece his life back together with those who remain. As time goes on, decisions are made about what monster kind should do next, and how best to escape to the surface. But if they do get their freedom, what will happen?

Written by: Topaz Shadowwolf Undertale Fan fiction Undertale is owned by Toby Fox

Heads up: Soriel, Sans POV, my goal in writing this is to poke at your emotions Warnings: Major character death, implied suicide, homicidal thoughts, don’t expect a happy ending

AO3 On Tumblr: Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

I almost combined these last two chapters, since they are so short... but I think they are best separated. Anyway, enjoy...

Chapter five: Wrongs

 The question is: is revenge the right thing. Y’know?

In the big picture, no it isn’t. I mean, hurting someone because they hurt you only means the person who originally hurt you will, most likely, hurt you even more next time. Just makes this horrid and confusing circle of pain. And worse yet, it causes more people to get hurt. Friends and family stand by, watching, and they get hurt trying to stop it from happening.

But I can’t help but wonder, does it apply in this case? I mean… trying to force someone to reset could result in an even worse ending. Yet, it could make everything better.

I remember hearing a long time ago that two lefts don’t make a right. Of course, I had to joke and say, “three do.” The words didn’t mean much to me then. Not that the meaning was lost on me; I understood what was meant. Just didn’t see why I should care. It didn’t feel like it applied to me or anything I was doing at the time. It was just this cute little saying that people would say to stop someone from reacting badly to another. But now, I understand it completely. Now it does apply. I’m thinking of my options, considering the choice I must make, hearing the voices of the others, and that little saying is just replaying in my head.

Which, I guess, is why I’m wavering with my revenge plans. I mean, I still want it, but how do I go about getting it without upsetting my friends?

Which is silly, it’s not like they will remember. Even my dear brother won't remember. Heck, how much of this will I remember is debatable too, after all. So, it’s possible for me to go through with this and never feel any guilt from it. And yet, the pure notion that, without knowing it, Papyrus’s big brother will continue to let him down, is painful.

Still, if my research is right…

Well, let’s just say, I have reason to carry out my original plan. I think you know the reason. You’ve got to know, you must understand that there is happiness for my bro out there, somewhere. So, killing a killer to force that killer to reset… Does that make it right?

Is it right to kill a murderer?

They did kill someone, in this case, a lot of someones, but does that make killing a killer the right thing to do? Objectively, revenge isn’t right. I have no right to play judge, jury, and executor. It would be different if I let Undyne do it. See, then it would be the law passing down judgment. That’d be different than me becoming like the killer I hate just to try getting my way.

But normally, if you kill a killer nothing happens other than maybe some guilt or relief. Yet, this killer can reset. So, does making this wrong, after their wrong, make things right if they make things better? Common sense says, “no. killing like this is never right.” My objectivity says “no,” too. Y’know? Since murder is wrong.

And yet…

I don’t want to wait for Undyne.

I’ve been waiting too long for this reset…

I’m losing myself...

  Based on the levels of determination he could extract from this human, Sans doubted the boy could reset. It seemed reasonable to assume, then, that the power still remained with the other, the killer. So, it was just a matter of time, and thankfully it was not long before he had something that would trick the Barrier. It really was all because of Alphys’s help that he was able to make a breakthrough. She had all the answers he lacked, and thanks to his understanding of what she was telling him, they were able to work together to make a contraption capable of simulating seven human souls. It was complicated and took time to make, but still, freedom was achievable.

Revenge was achievable.

Once the project was done, he took it to the castle to finally see if it worked. Undyne didn’t want to just do a trial run. The Barrier could only be broken once, after all, and she felt all the monsters should be there to witness it. She had gathered all of monster kind, informing them that freedom is close at hand, and might be today. She told them that, whether this works or not, freedom will come, and humans will pay for their crimes against monsters. “Today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, it won’t matter. What will be important is that we will be ready, and we will win!” Undyne rallied monster kind. Which put pressure on him, though her speech left an opening for him to not be disgraced if it didn’t work for some reason. Still, with Alphys by him wringing her claws nervously, he couldn’t help but want it to work. So, as he prepared, he took care in making sure everything was right.

After setting the device, Sans started it and then backed up. The Barrier creaked, cracked, then shattered like a window being smashed by a rock. The natural light of the morning sun filtered in, lighting the cavern. It was so beautiful but far brighter and different than anything his sockets had grown used to. Sans squinted his eye sockets as he looked passed the opening to the world beyond. There were more mountains, trees, and sky as far as he could see. monster kind, behind him, cheered and rushed by him into the open air. He felt a hand on his shoulder as Undyne said, “Nice going, Nerd! You freed us! We’re all in your debt for this.”

“heh, it’s nothing undyne.” Sans started to shrug but felt Undyne’s grip on his shoulder tighten. He looked at her and saw she was about to say something when a member of the guard called for her.

The current ruler of monsters sighed while giving Sans’s back a pat that caused him to tip forward, but not fall. “Look, Sans, I’m being serious here. We’d still all be stuck down there if it weren’t for you. So, seriously, let me know if you need anything. Alright?” Undyne asked with a bit of forcefulness behind her words.

“sure thing, boss,” Sans lazily replied. He offered her a grin that she clearly was not satisfied with. She had that look, one that seemed to say she was worried about him, though he wasn’t fully sure why. Okay, yeah, he had started talking to Toriel, Papyrus, and Alphys more openly, but he didn’t make a big deal about it. So, he didn’t see the reason why anyone would think it was. Undyne was about to say more when she was called again. She sighed, turned sharply, and started barking out orders

With that, the Guard was mobilized and the war on humans truly started. Undyne’s wrath was quickly learned by all that were in her path, deserved or not. Monsters attacked the nearby towns in an organized and unmerciful manner. They easily took out unsuspecting humans with few injuries and barely any losses on the monster side. Sans was forced to sit out when it came to the fighting. Undyne reminded him he was too weak to fight, not that he minded. Papyrus didn’t need to see him fight, and it would upset Toriel as well. So, he watched from the sidelines as the attacks happened. He didn’t know if he liked these random attacks though. His wrath, unlike Undyne’s, was more focused on one, while she was willing to attack all humans. But he was willing to let her waste her time on hunting down every human. It gave him the time needed to send the spiders out to gather information, as well as time for them to work.

Once monsters had conquered that stretch of land, Undyne was prepared to track down high levels of LV. Most likely, other violent humans will hinder her progress. Which was fine for him, Sans just needed time to wait for the spiders to report back. With her tracking down every human criminal, he’d definitely get to the brother killer first. It was now just a waiting game, and he had far more patience than the average monster. Though that was fading fast.

The last issue was what to do with the human kid. The boy didn’t want to go back home, he was apparently scared of his parents. It seemed wrong for a child to fear their parents and knowing that bothered him. But, Sans still had no idea what to do with him. He didn’t want to send the kid off to some human town if it was just going to be the next target for a monster attack. Sans considered asking Undyne what she thought when Toriel said, “Why don’t you take care of him. You are both lonely, after all.”

“tori,” Sans started his rebuttal, but he was quickly interrupted by the eager voice of his brother.

“THAT IS AN EXCELLENT IDEA, SO LONG AS MY BROTHER CARES FOR HIM BETTER THAN THE PET ROCK,” Papyrus added with a bright smile.

Alphys went on about the anime they could all watch together, but Sans lost interest in the conversation. Fine, he’ll watch the kid. Not like it will matter in the end. Besides, there was no arguing with them once they got an idea in their heads. Right now, he didn’t have the energy to spare to try talking them out of this.

The next few days, the kid was always a step behind him as he worked on whatever projects Undyne needed him for. And she did come up with something. Though he suspected that some of it was busy work. She seemed to think she needed to keep him occupied so he didn’t just sit around and ruminate. There were a few times, when he turned sharply or took a step back, that Sans nearly stepped on the kid. If Sans were any taller, he’d think the kid was trying to trip him. When they had a chance, they would sit together and watch anime or read books. They seemed to have accepted that Sans either talks to unseen monsters or himself, as the kid never questioned Sans about that odd behavior. In the end, Sans was thankful for his “shadow.” At least it was someone living to talk to, even if he didn’t say much.

Asgore could be seen now and then, sadly trailing after Undyne. As bad as Sans felt for the guy, he had his hands full with the three ghosts, or figments, following him and a kid. So, he didn’t really feel like asking the past king to join his already formed group of spirits. Either way, it was just a game of patience, soon enough, Asgore will be alive again.

Sure enough, after two weeks of freedom, the spiders pulled through and he knew where to find the human he hated so much. He thanked them for their service and promised that things will be better soon.

That night he got the kid to go to bed early and asked Toriel, Papyrus, and Alphys to watch him while he was out. Toriel didn’t like what was going on and she watched him carefully, though she said nothing. If Papyrus or Alphys thought something was up, neither of them said anything.

As Sans started to leave he heard a voice behind him, “Sans?” There was so much worry and concern that it hurt Sans to hear Toriel say his name like that.

“yeah, tori?” Sans replied though he didn’t have the heart to look back at her.

“I don’t think you should be doing this…,” Toriel said softly and she moved closer to him. He saw her reach to put a paw on him. If she did, if he felt her touch him, he might lose his will to do this, and so he moved out of reach.

“it will all be okay,” he muttered, trying to hold back tears, “i’ll make it okay.”

“Sans, you don’t have to be the one to do this,” Toriel again, pleaded. But, Sans quickly left, tears seeping from his sockets as he retreated.

It’s not like she will remember…

No one will remember…

He’ll make everything better…

…

Right?

…

Thanks to the detailed directions from the spiders, he was able to get to the human quickly and undetected by the use of shortcuts. They were living on the outskirts of a small town, in their own house. Everything looked far nicer than the human deserved. Killers like them shouldn’t have all these nice things when others were left struggling with the pain they caused.

He wasn’t going to be careless. He doubted the spiders would give him false information, but he wasn’t about to kill someone based on bad intelligence. He walked up to the house and looked into the windows to check for the human. The first two rooms he saw nothing of interest. But in the third, he saw them.

… and they were not alone.

[coolseanobuseng]

New Post has been published on https://legitlover.com/how-to-become-an-irresistible-woman/

The Shortcut to How to Become An Irresistible Woman

Everybody has sticking points. Whether it’s work, relationships or life in general. And it’s fine to want to learn the shortcut to how to become an irresistible woman to any man. But that’s fine and dandy because the learning process is what makes us better women.

Perhaps you’re struggling with certain behaviors or fears that might be keeping you from making the most out of your love life. Not to worry though; author Mirabelle Summers has created the ultimate game-free guide on how to do just THAT:

Get A Great Guy Guide

The “Get A Great Guy Guide” is the thing you need to achieve the breakthrough that you’ve been waiting for. With its sensible, no-nonsense and down-to-earth advice. For the sassy, modern girl, finding AND holding on to a quality man will be a cinch!

Now then – one of the most common stumbling blocks to more romance in a woman’s life is a simple lack of conversational know-now. The good news is that this can be LEARNED and immediately applied in your everyday life!

Especially while you’re face-to-face with a potential lover!

Oftentimes the problem is that some well-meaning girls overlook the importance of having the right communication style. It’s not that they WANT to be boring; they’re merely unaware of how to hold a conversation.

No sensible gal is going to get up in the morning and tell herself, “I wonder how I’m gonna BORE the socks off of that cute stranger I’m going run into at the coffee shop today?”

If you want to become a better conversationalist, it’s important to consider if you’ve grown accustomed to certain patterns of speech that are actually counterproductive. Sometimes, you need to step back and ask if you’ve fallen into certain habits which you’ve numbed yourself to over time.

So the first step towards any form of improvement is SELF-AWARENESS. Think about the way you normally carry a conversation with a guy and ask yourself if your style could use some polishing.

Of course, I don’t want you to start beating yourself up if you feel that the way you talk to men isn’t as attractive as you might want it to be. Like I said earlier, there’s always room for improvement, and it’s definitely a good thing to know EXACTLY which areas can be improved.

With that said, I want you to go over the following tip you can use to enhance your communication style :

The Shortcut to How to Become An Irresistible Woman

# 1: Rapport is Key

It may sound like the simplest thing in the world to say, but the fact is lots of perfectly adorable women have a hard time doing this. It’s mainly because they only have a VAGUE idea of what rapport is, so naturally you can’t create something you can’t really put a pin on!

So let’s clear up the fog surrounding this topic and identify what it is exactly. In a nutshell, having rapport is about having a CONNECTION with someone.

You know how you hook up your iPod or mobile phone to your computer, and they suddenly have this mutual understanding? It’s kind of like that, but on a DEEPER level.

Let me give you a clearer picture: if you were at a party packed with all manner of gorgeous, articulate and friendly men, which one of them are you likely to REALLY fall for?

Since they’re all visually and mentally appealing, you might have a hard time figuring out which guy suits you. Chances are the one who naturally understands you will be the man you’d want to date.

Why is that? Well, doesn’t it feel just GREAT when a person instinctively senses where you’re coming from?

I’m sure you’ve met at least one person in your life who you inexplicably feel drawn to. That’s because that person seems to perfectly understand and echo back your own opinions or feelings.

That sense of being connected is what rapport is all about. Fortunately, it’s actually not hard at all to do this in your daily conversations.

The first thing to keep in mind is that you need to be on the ‘same page’ as the person you’re talking to. There are easy ways to do this.

For example, keep an ear out for specific concepts or values that are personally close to the person you’re in a conversation with. If he brings up that it’s important to him to have some quiet time everyday, store that away for future reference.

Later on you can echo back that same concept by telling him about how YOU like to spend your alone time: ‘At the end of the day I like to spend an hour or so curling up with a good book and a nice warm cup of chamomile tea. It really helps decompress after a crazy day, you know what I mean?’

Step back and watch his eyes light up like a Christmas tree! By taking something close to his heart and giving it back to him in a genuine way, your words will make quite the IMPACT on him.

So, rapport really has to do a lot with speaking the same ‘language’. Now of course, I don’t mean you have to start mimicking everything he’s saying like a little parrot, but rather do it in an EMOTIONAL sense.

Discovering and talking about the values that resonate with you BOTH is a way to speak the same language. When you think about it, we often adapt our modes of speech depending on the context we’re in.

For example, you wouldn’t talk to your friends, family, colleagues, or elders in the same EXACT way would you?

So don’t think that you’re being a phony by making an effort to speak in the same way that he does. You’re simply getting into the practice of communicating in a way that’s APPROPRIATE to the situation.

And when it comes to chatting up gorgeous guys, a meeting of the minds is best done through rapport-building speech patterns!

# 2: Switch Off Your Brain

Don’t get me wrong, the kinds of guys who are worth your time are into women of SUBSTANCE. And certainly, this next conversational tip is not about acting air-headed or ditzy.

All I’m advising you do is keep your sexy brain from going into overdrive! A common mistake that intelligent women often commit is to think too much about certain things.

They get so caught up in their own world of thoughts that they’ll come off as aloof or distracted, when in reality they’re just petrified from FEAR of not knowing what to say next.

If you don’t want your brain from stalling on you, then you have to quiet your thoughts and shut out the nagging distractions in your pretty little noggin.

The attraction-killing thoughts I’m talking about are those coming from the inner critic trying to sabotage your conversation. Sometimes, we make the mistake of mentally scolding ourselves after saying something that felt out of place or unfunny.

Other times, we’re lost in a maze of thoughts on what to say next or get bogged down in a swamp of self-consciousness.

When you feel your brain going in this direction, acknowledge what’s going on and DROP these mental distractions.

There’s a handy little trick you can do in case your attention is drifting off to la-la land: instead of obsessing about how you look in his eyes or what he might be thinking, simply divert your attention to HIM.

It’s a girl’s best defense against looking aloof or detached from the conversation (or from this plane of reality for that matter!). So remember to shut off this part of your brain, and you’ll do just fine.

On another note however, sometimes it’s the guy you’re talking to that’s feeling self-conscious. If that’s the case, then don’t act or talk in any way that might give away you’re AWARE of it.

Just play it cool and don’t dwell on the vibe he’s giving off. It’ll only make things more awkward if you let his state affect your own.

# 3: Humor is Your Best Friend

Maybe you’re still feeling each other out. And you’re trying to get a handle on how to connect to this hunk of a guy. But the awkward flow of your conversation is creating a major interference in your connection. So you’re having a hard time ‘broadcasting’ your signal.

Fear not, friend! The quickest way to clear up all that ‘static’ is by creating a private joke. Which you can share with him. When you both have some knee-slapping ground to start on, this accelerates the rapport-building process.

My long-time friend Marcus has a great story to illustrate my point. He says:

“One of my first jobs was a freelance product writer for all sorts of health merchandise. During one assignment I was talking with this guy who was telling me about the benefits of a sports bracelet that supposedly reduces muscular fatigue. I had to put on the bracelet and pretended how less tense my arm felt as I was stretching it. Monique, his pretty sales assistant, was visibly chuckling at how funny I looked during the product demo’. Though she tried her best to hide it.

Marcus was then able to use this funny incident as an inside joke when he started chatting up Monqiue. To her delight, he referred to the silly arm-stretching debacle several times during their conversation.

To his benefit, Monique was game enough to tease him about it when they eventually started dating. The moral of the story here is that when used properly, humor serves as a great bridge between two people.

Heck, any doctor knows about the therapeutic effect of laughter. One way to bring on the charm is to put your man on a natural high. By cracking a joke or making a witty comment!

Making people laugh makes people (cute guys included) want to be around you to get a dose of your feel-good charisma.

Of course, there’s a big difference between laughing at a joke and MAKING one. However, appearing to be effortless at humor isn’t as hard as you might think.

Don’t assume you need to transform yourself into a standup comic at the drop of a hat.

Generally, a good punch line is the result of properly setting up the joke beforehand. If you need to explain the punch line after delivering it, it means you didn’t build enough suspense first.

(Think about how some characters on TV bumble a perfectly good joke by explaining too much and adding a “get it, get it?” at the end.)

A good way to build up a joke is by keeping a relatively straight face and suppressing any snickers before dropping the punch line on him. Otherwise there won’t be any escalation.

That’s what comedic timing is all about: buttering up the audience and then BAM, you get the drop on them with a well-placed punch line!

Notice how comedians like Conan O’Brien or Tina Fey churn out the funnies. They like to talk about a mundane news item (the set-up) and then making a zany comment about it (the payoff).

As an aside, avoid making any pop culture references that might alienate or confuse the person you’re talking to. It’s good to be mindful of the particular person in front of you so he can better relate to your “material”.

However, don’t worry about making leaps and bounds in this particular area of conversation. Try adapting these habits of humor little by little into your speech.

Once you hit your stride and finally struck a guy’s funny bone, you’ll notice how easier it is to keep him laughing with a follow-up joke!

One last way to be funny without overdoing it is by doing the “pretend seriousness” routine. A little lighthearted irony goes a long way with certain folks!

Let’s pretend that your friend introduced you to this incredibly cute guy who happens to be just into music as you are. So halfway through the conversation he confesses to not having heard about a certain band you absolutely adore.

Take advantage of this opportunity by *playfully* retorting, “Tell me you’re kidding. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to drag you to my place and make you listen to my (name of band) records until you see the light. Seriously!”

Admittedly, this approach might not work on everyone, but if he seems like the guy who’s game enough to go along with the fun, then give it a shot!

#4: Converse With an OPEN Ear

Some women might think that listening is just a simple matter of hearing what the other person is telling them. Truth is, this basic skill we’ve been taught to use over the years is often taken for granted.

Sometimes, we find ourselves zoning out a bit (refer to tip # 2) when we should PAY ATTENTION in the full sense of the verb. A typical mistake is to listen on a superficial level. And merely use the time the guy is talking to think of something to say.

This might sound like common sense, but I have this to share. You’d have a better chance of saying something worthwhile if you truly listened to what the other person just said.

I’ve told countless friends and colleagues that your genuine attention is a very powerful tool for conversational success! Really listening to his jokes and stories is a simple but effective way to make him feel good about himself.

And what red-blooded man wouldn’t want to be around a sassy girl that he can associate his GOOD FEELINGS with?

The gift of showing real interest is the direct path to greater rapport in ANY sort of conversation you’re in. Although our general interest here is to attract men through a good chat, we also have to consider the big picture here.

An attractive woman is someone who can have a great conversation with just about anybody. When you have a POSITIVE attitude towards the rest of humankind, it’s an indication of how you’d be on a date.

…or as a girlfriend.

If you’re there to talk with ANYONE purely for the pleasure of their company… and NOT because you want their approval… then that sincerity will naturally show.

People (hunks included) just tend you like more when you want to hang out with them with NO strings attached.

So what I’m saying here is that you shouldn’t just limit your awesome conversational skills to men alone. Find an opportunity to flex your social muscles and chat up a storm with the next person you run into!

It doesn’t matter if it’s the nice old lady at the library, the friendly cashier at your favorite coffee place, or your fellow students at yoga class. Every person out there offers a chance for you to become a more sociable person.

Trust me, this mindset is the sure-fire path to becoming drop-dead gorgeous in the long run! What have you got to lose after all?

And part of developing the right mindset is by expanding your knowledge and beliefs about dating. Courtesy of Meet Your Sweet’s “Get a Great Guy Guide.” The Shortcut to How to Become An Irresistible Woman

Get A Great Guy Guide

When you think about it, the cost of failure is pretty much ZERO, so get out there and work it!

—————————————————————————

This article comes to you courtesy of Expert Dating and Relationships Advice for Men and Women

If you are serious about changing your love life success. This is your first step on your journey of self discovery. And it needs to be with Meet Your Sweet’s “Get a Great Guy Guide.” The Shortcut to How to Become An Irresistible Woman

If you want genuine men, not just any man, let Mirabelle Summers and the team challenge your beliefs. Yes, about love and attraction, and show you the way to become a seduction success story.

Get A Great Guy Guide

The Shortcut to How to Become An Irresistible Woman has No games. No scripted lines. Just Real life dating advice for real women! Click here to download this Free PDF with exact texts to send to him to make him yours. Just try them out to see the magic of the type of responses you’ll get from him.

[forhisglory]

2020

It’s been more than a year since I’ve journaled properly. I have another journal app on my phone which I use to jot down random thoughts, but I’ve been journaling less and less as time passes. My abilities to be still, to think deeply or to pray have all vanished. There’s nothing inside my brain so there’s not much to write about. Even while reading the news and seeing what’s happening in the world, my heart thumps for a second because of injustice and the brokenness of this world, and I even hatch opinions about some matters, but that quickly goes away and I’m back to feeling nothing... absolutely nothing. 

This year, although it may sound completely and utterly selfish to say, has been exactly what I needed - it’s what I’ve longed for. Taking a break from society, from life, from commuting, from going into the office, from having human interaction - are all things I’ve wanted to do but could never do because life, I felt, always had to go on. 

With covid and wfh, I’ve been able to take advantage of the time that was given to me in a negative way - I have let myself go completely and indulged in numbing my mind, heart, soul, brain and body. I ate. I slept. I isolated. I played games and watched every imaginable show and movie. I basically became a miserable human being and regressed in many ways. Although I felt like this was a time for much needed rest, I felt like this huge gaping hole inside of me was getting bigger and the emptiness I was feeling was getting even worse. I was feeling unmotivated, indifferent to most, if not all things, and passionless. I didn’t know what I was living for. There was no direction. No goals. And like I mentioned before, zero passion. In other words, I feel/felt dead.

It wasn’t until recently though, where I felt like all I needed to make some changes. Maybe it was the sunday services I was tuning into, maybe it was the hardship Andrew and I had to endure the last several months, maybe it was participating in the Spiritual Authority workshop, maybe it was Andrew speaking truth into me and to me in the ever so gentle way, maybe it was the recent conversation I had with Jamie about healing from my past... perhaps it was all of these things including, including the self indulgence part, that led me to be where I am tonight to write this post. But right now, I feel like I am about to have some sort of major breakthrough very soon. 

There are a lot of thoughts going through my head all day today and tonight, but I feel like I’m in a good place. Also, for the first time in a long time, know and feel that God at work in my life - He’s doing something in me... before I try to explain and write another 10 paragraphs, here are some of the thoughts I’ve been having

- last session with Jamie really had an impact on me. Not sure if it was from me just talking about it and then praying to God about it, but it did something in me. 

- I was looking through all the cards that i’ve kept, but mainly the ones from the new heart days. I was reading through them and I felt wistful? Like a longing to go back to the days when I was filled with passion and zeal... for God and people. I feel that frequently in fact, but today was different. It was kind of sad. Kind of feeling shocked that my life used to be so different back then. Shocked also at all the kind words people wrote in their cards to me. Kind of feeling strange actually, but in a good way. It wasn’t negative at all. I was reading some of the card contents to Andrew and he was like, but those church people did you wrong. And when he said that, I could see how the card contents contradicted that so much. These people were blessed by me because they were able to serve side by side with me. They were grateful towards me because of the love I showed them. They were encouraging me. They were all positive. I realized something at that moment, and I’m not sure if this has all sunk in yet, but I was so loved... at church. The ones who did hurt me were all so emotionally unhealthy and in a bad place so of course their actions and words would show that. And then I realized, that was satan trying to keep me out of the church. He was good. He prevented me from going all these years. And right after that, I read a card from Ian. She wrote to me that God is preparing me for something big - that she could sense it so strongly and that God was going to use me for his people. And then another thing I thought about from all of this was, strange too, because it was while we were eating dinner tonight, was how much I struggled with trying to earn the respect of others and how much recognition I needed and wanted when I used to serve. And then I thought, maybe I needed to go through all these years of being in the wilderness and desert so that God could change that part of my heart and humble me. 

- after all this, I wanted to go back to facebook strangely to look at all my old photos for some reason. I saw a lot of my old pictures from my new heart days. I realized just how pretty I was. How precious I was. That I had nothing to feel insecure about. Nothing to worry about when it came to my looks, especially after my face settled down around 2011. I felt like I just got prettier and prettier after that. I wish I could tell this to my younger self.

- I realized now as I’m writing that I struggled with so much shame for so long. Shame, rejection, fears, and believing in lies. 

- all I ever wanted was a spouse/partner in life. now that I have one, a really great one, I realized that it doesn’t fulfill me. I have great moments with andrew, but I am still so empty inside, sometimes feeling like I’m wasting away my life.

I don’t want to get too excited because things like this have happened before. I have these realizations and then it just kind of fizzles out. I do know that I still have some deep, inner healing that needs to happen in order to break free from my insecurities and anger issues. There’s a lot because I have to go so far back to when I was so young. Oh yes, I wanted to mention that I realized recently that I’m stuck in high school or rather, that I have been stuck in high school - unable to move on from what happened during those years and years after that. 

God, its been awhile and I’m sorry for that. Maybe it was something I needed, but I do want to go back to you now. I know I need you and you’re the only thing that can fulfill the deepest desires of my heart and soul. I want to fall in love with you again. The right way this time. Please help me love Jesus the way you do, God. Make me whole and renew my heart. Amen. 

[robrob1127]

Hollis Brown Releases Their Breakthrough Album

By Rob Nagy

It has been a decade since high school friends Mike Montali and Jonathan Bonilla formed the band Hollis Brown, a name they adopted from the Bob Dylan song “Ballad of Hollis Brown”. Collaborating as fellow songwriters and guitarists with a passion for a variety of musical genres, the duo created the foundation for what has evolved into one of the darlings of the Americana indie music scene. 

"Growing up in Queens I fell in love with all different types of music," recalls Montali. "We had hip-hop, funk, rock 'n' roll, singer-songwriters. Otis Redding is my favorite singer, the Temptations and the Jackson 5, Mick Jagger, I love all that stuff. As a band, we are individually inspired by different flavors. We always agree on a few different things that we all like and that’s what we try to incorporate together. We want to be in the lineage of the great American kind of music like Tom Petty, and Bob Dylan.” 

Hollis Brown’s latest album, Ozone Park (Mascot Records/Cool Green Recordings), featuring Mike Montali (guitar and vocals), Jonathan Bonilla (guitar), Andrew Zehnal (drums), Adam Bock (keyboards), and Chris Urriola (bass), offers an impressive ten-song collection featuring the single "Do Me Right”. Laden with rock, blues, soul, R&B, and hip hop influences, the band shines on what is undoubtedly their highly anticipated breakthrough release. 

“Our goal with this record was to aspire to make something that could stand up to the artists that inspired us,” says Montali. “We wanted to do something could compete at that level, almost like a modern take on a classic rock album. That’s what we were going for. If you listen to Tom Petty, and you listen to us and say, ’Alright they’re there.’ But also something relevant today versus just a throwback type of band, which I think we've been boxed into with the first two albums. We were going for that vintage style where everything was done on analog tape, minimal overdubs, live in a room, like a garage band. So this time around we wanted to show that we could cross over a bigger platform, and modernize rock and roll.”

“I’m very pleased with the record,” adds Montali. “It has gotten a really good reception for the band this year, we’ve turned the corner, popularity-wise and the way people view us as a legitimate working band. So it’s been a stepping stone for us that we’re hoping to keep going with the next one. I think we’ve finally found our sound.” 

Hollis Brown became a fixture in the New York club scene, rapidly developing a significant regional following. They didn’t waste any time getting their music into the hands of music fans, releasing their debut EP, Nothing & The Famous No One in 2009. They released their first self titled debut album that same year. Accolades from the music press followed, both No Depression and Spin Magazines praised the band. Subsequent releases Ride on the Train (2013), Hollis Brown Gets Loaded (2014), 3 Shots (2015), Cluster Of Pearls (2016), Hollis Brown on Audiotree Live (2016) and Steady Ground (2016), and Run Right To You - Single (2016) served to solidify their presence in the musical landscape.

“There is a balance of being professional and still having a little rock and roll in you,” says Motali. “You still have to have a little something to you. It has been tricky for us to find a balance of just what that line is? I think we’re doing better than we were before. We almost fell apart a few times over alcoholism, money. It can take its toll on people after months of it, and it had on us. We’ve survived all that rock and roll cliche stuff, which I think was good to get out of our system before bigger and better things started to happen. It’s probably better off that we didn’t have that much money (laughs) otherwise it could have been really bad.” 

Establishing a reputation for a powerful live show that has found them hitting the concert trail hard throughout the U.S. and abroad, Hollis Brown has served as a headliner for with the Counting Crows, the Zombies, Citizen Cope, Heartless Bastards, Jesse Malin, Jackie Greene, Robert Randolph and the Family Band, and Rich Robinson of the Black Crowes. 

Hollis Brown’s songs have been featured in the trailer for the Micheal Keaton film “The Founder”, MTV’s Th Real World, Showtime’s Shameless. Direct TV’s “Kingdom”, the 2014 film Bad Country and an online ad campaign for Abercrombie & Fitch. 

“I’m never where I want to be, I think we should be further along,” says Montali. “I think we’re one of there best bands out there. I think that it takes a little longer sometimes to connect when you just have your own voice, and you have something a little different. You want to say something, and be something that’s not so in line with maybe what the major pop thing dictates at the time.” 

"We never wanted to be a band that was her today gone tomorrow," adds Montali. "We’ve always wanted to build something a bit more cult-like at the start. We’ve been fortunate enough to surround ourselves with people who believe in us, team-wise. From management to agents. People who believe in what we’re doing and let us have creative freedom. It’s taken us a little longer than it probably should have, but that's OK. And it’s happening organically.” 

“To be fair, it has taken us a little while to figure out how to do it,” says Montali. “It has taken us a few years of getting in the van and figuring out what kind of band we want to be. I feel like we have finally figured that out, we’ve paid our dues. I think we're in a really good place now. We just want to keep the ball rolling and making music we believe in."

Hollis Brown and Vintage Trouble performed the final show of their 2019 concert tour in December at the El Rey Theater in Los Angeles, California. Performing for a packed house, the energy on stage and off was electric. Both acts went head to head giving fans an unforgettable night of music from two bands that are going to be a force to be reckoned with for years to come. 

“It’s was a really good tour,” says Montali. “We were able to get to know those guys, and they got to know us. They are super cool It’s nice to see a rock band giving it their all every night, that’s what we tried to do. Having both of us added to the flavor of the tour in general. This was a really great tour that we were happy to be a part of. It was good to finish it up the year in that fashion.”

“Its grounding and nice to want to go home,” says Montali. “I enjoy being on the road, but I also enjoy time at home. You have to live to be inspired, and you have to be inspired to create. If you’re on the road all the time you’re not living, you’ve got no inspiration. So for us as a band, we are road dogs and play a ton of gigs, it’s nice to be able to have a good balance of home where you can be happy, go out, and write.” 

To stay up to date with Hollis Brown visit www.hollisbrown.com

To stay up to date with Vintage Trouble visit www.vintagetrouble.com

Photos by Rob Nagy 2019

Rnagy62@yahoo.com