#patricks point state park

[morningcallsphotography]

Patrick's Point State Park Trinidad, CA NY -> CA (and back), 2021

Contact ©morningcallsphotography

[thomaswaynewolf]

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (3)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Suggestive themes, violence and mild gore ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 3: Fires of Rebellion

“So, talk,” you demanded, crossing your arms as you kept yourself at a suitable distance from Leon. 

Both of you were currently walking up north along Good Street towards the City College. The plan had been to take a left at some point and head over to the park by Warren Street, where hopefully there would be some benches for you to relax on. It was still early enough in the night for your surroundings to be relatively bustling with people, so you weren’t too worried that the man beside you would try anything risky or stupid. In any case, you knew where you kept your pepper spray at hand if things went south.

“You’d already sensed it from the beginning,” he stated, swallowing thickly. How was it this hard to tell you who he really was? If he could sweat blood, he’d fill a whole bucket’s worth. Pig’s blood. A cop in pig’s blood. He knew plenty of people who’d pay to see him drenched in the vermillion fluid. “That I’m not exactly normal.” That was what he settled with.

“What, you mean like a serial killer or something?” you scoffed, shaking your head in mild vexation.

“No.” His voice was solemn but firm as he glanced at you briefly, making eye contact. “I didn’t… assault you, not in the way you think.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I just— I do things… that aren’t exactly normal.”

Great, Leon. You just made yourself sound like a fucking magician. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and paused his footsteps. “This is going well.”

You almost felt sorry for the guy. He seemed to be having such a difficult time articulating what he wanted to say. Was it some sort of kink he was talking about? The logical part of your mind berated you, insisting that this could go down far worse than you imagined, but you pushed it aside.

“Like what?” you asked, your morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

His jaw tightened as he shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side.

Before he could respond, you took the initiative, positioning yourself in front of him as a form of challenge. “Show me,” you requested.

His head darted in every direction, scanning the area with an animalistic instinctiveness and you thought you saw his eyes illuminate in a different color. However, when you blinked a second later, it had returned to its original pale shade of blue. “Too many people,” he muttered. “I’ll do as you ask, but we need to head somewhere quieter.”

You should’ve ran off after he said that, but your legs stayed rooted to the ground. Your lack of self-preservation was alarming. “The park, then?” you suggested.

He nodded in compromise. “I could work with that.”

The rest of the walk there took place in awkward silence, as you dwelled on what he would do and whether you were walking into one big, fat trap. Well, at least Patrick had his business card. And P.I.s, they had a registered license, didn’t they? It was too late to back out now, you’d gone this far and you wanted to see it through.

When you had found a secluded bench at one of the shaded corners of the park, he spoke up again. “Do you remember the first night we met? When—”

“You offered me cigarettes in exchange for coffee,” you finished the sentence for him.

“Yes,” he said with a wistful smile, as if reminiscing about a day he’d cherished but had long since passed. “You felt it, didn’t you? Compelled to stay, but with no reason why.”

Despite your reluctance, you had to agree with him. That moment between standing by his table and sitting with him to share in a smoke had been like entering the twilight zone. You were you, but yet, at the same time, weren’t.

“I can do it again here, if you want,” he murmured, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to bore right into you.

It wasn’t the first time you had leaped before looking. You’d always been known to be a little more reckless than your peers, but it seemed like you never really learnt your lesson well. “Be my guest,” you gestured melodramatically, as your hand swept across in one grand motion.

“Now, you’re just mocking me,” he chided, though a ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips.

This time, there was a tingling sensation in your body, like an invisible warm light gradually enveloping you, except it seemed to exude from him. You were entranced by his stature, the minute details of his face, everything about what he was, to the point where you couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze.

“Sit,” he directed gently, placing his hand along the back of the wooden bench.

You felt nothing but desire. Desire to do anything he wanted you to. Without a word, you sank onto the bench like a doll, still giving him that doe-eyed expression one would normally reserve for a celebrity they were starstruck by.

Taking his seat beside you, he urged, “Come closer.”

Obediently, you shuffled up along the bench towards him, except it wasn’t out of fear of punishment, but a strange, radiant love that emanated from within you. When you were just inches away from his face, he slowly revealed the tips of his canine teeth, which were pointier than usual, and seemed to grow with each passing minute. As his features eased up, you could feel the uncanny warmth dissipate from your core, and though you were still captivated by him, his face seemed to lack the same lustrous sheen it held moments ago. Like a wandering spirit, you had arrived back into your own body. You were you again.

His eyes latched onto you, waiting, watching, biding his time, to see what you would do. Though he remained poised and composed, the unsteadiness of his breathing and the flicker of trepidation across his irises gave him away. He was afraid that you would leave him, for good. And after what he had given to have the right to Embrace you, he wouldn’t know how he would live with himself if he were rejected.

It felt like hours had gone by until one of you spoke up. “Do you hate what you see?”

“No,” you answered, almost too quickly, cupping his cold cheek in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and sighed blissfully into it, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It felt moist and heated against your skin.

You surprised yourself with how well you were taking all of this in. This shouldn’t have been possible and nothing about what he had shown you made sense. You blamed your tolerance on the late, sleepless nights and hanging around with the offbeat characters who frequented your cafe. 

What if monsters did exist? you humored. Maybe not in the literal sense of vampires, but someone who relished the flavor of blood, and who’d learnt a few tricks of hypnotism. You tried to rationalize it as much as you could, but there were still so many missing pieces you did not fully understand.

“How many times?” you asked. “Did you force me… each night?”

He lowered his gaze, marred by shame, while looking to his hands nestled in his lap. “It was just that once,” he whispered. “I wanted you to stay with me.” 

He pursed his lips. “The rest, later on… was you.”

“Did you—”

“Yes.” 

You didn’t even need to continue your sentence for him to know what you meant. Yes, he tasted your blood. Yes, he enjoyed it. Yes, he came back for more. And more.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked.

You didn’t acknowledge his apology, allowing even more time to slip through your fingers. A while later, you ran them along his cheek towards his lips, where his teeth which now looked more like fangs lurked. Right, how would you explain that away?

He didn’t stop you when you traced one of their edges, as if trying to figure out if they were real. He let you press the tip of your finger against its peak, purposely pricking yourself in some kind of deluded masochistic fantasy. The rush you felt from it was indescribable, like a spike of venom flowing into your veins, though it wasn’t as intense as the previous times to truly immobilize you. Grasping onto the back of the bench, you steadied yourself from the dizzying sensation.

A dark, ruby bead blossomed at the site of the puncture. His mouth lay open as he inhaled sharply, gripping the trousers on his thighs, and there was a wild look in his bloodshot eyes. However, he remained motionless, restraining himself somehow, as if awaiting your instruction.

“You like this?” A mixture of bewilderment and arousal seeped into your tone, as you brought your bleeding finger to rest just at the entrance of his mouth.

All at once, his veneer of calmness shattered. He swirled his tongue against your fingertip, causing you to gasp as it made hot laps around the miniscule droplet of blood you had to offer him. Dipping his head, he took the rest of your digit into his mouth, eventually sucking on it whole as he emitted a low groan in pleasure. When he finally let it go, a slick string of saliva connected to it from his lips, wet and hungry with need.

“I, um—” you shuddered, at a loss for words, as you retracted your finger, folding it into your hand.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he straightened up in his seat, adjusting his attire and hair, as if he had come back to his senses once again. “You don’t have to decide on this right now,” he assured you.

“Okay.” You nodded shakily, your mind spinning from all the events that had just transpired. “Could we take another short walk before I head home?” 

It would probably help to cool off a little, you thought.

“Anything you need,” he asserted, getting up as he took another glance around the park, before extending his hand to you.

You stared at it, contemplating further. “Just don’t—” you hesitated, pausing to rephrase your words. “I want to trust you, Leon.”

“I’ll earn it back,” he promised. “However long it takes.”

That was all you needed to hear from him. Perhaps you were naive to a fault, but you took his hand anyway, allowing him to lead you out of the park, and to whatever else fate had in store for you that night.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Over the course of the evening, a thin fog had developed, shrouding the sky and enveloping the moon and stars in a blurry veil, casting a muted light over the city. You and Leon had taken a short detour towards the more touristy part of town, where the landmark Saint Michael Clock Tower overlooked the grand waterway.

The ornate, Gothic structure loomed intimidatingly ahead, its roof cloaked in a wispy gray mist, though you could still make out the time on its huge clock face. Ten minutes past midnight. It was getting late, and although you were accustomed to working until the wee hours of the morning, you preferred to get some sleep on your nights off when possible. However, right now, a part of you wished that the night would last longer. 

There wasn’t such a wide distance between you and Leon as before. In fact, your fingers were nearly touching, but neither of you had taken it further to close the final gap. Even in complete silence, punctuated only by the sounds of the city’s buzzing nightlife, both of you had somehow agreed on which pathways to take, falling in sync with each other’s footsteps, pauses and turns, like an unspoken dance. It was nice like this, having no expectations of the other person, just walking and feeling the thread of connection that bound the two of you.

Every now and then, he peered at you inquisitively, and you wondered if he had something to say, but when you looked his way, he turned his gaze back to the street in front of him. Coming to the entrance of a tunnel arbor near the clocktower, you paused to admire the sight of the vines and flowers that were wound around the metallic arches, interspersed with marigold fairy lights. There were still a decent number of stragglers in the vicinity. Probably the remaining tourists for the day who didn’t quite want to wrap up yet, some of whom were posing for pictures near the picaresque arbors.

“Cat caught your tongue?” Always the instigator and taking the confrontational approach. That was what you were known for.

“Hm?” he deflected, yet smiled at you knowingly.

“Just looked like you had something to say.” You shrugged, placing your hands on your hips.

“Nothing escapes you, huh?”

He was teasing you again; you were certain of it. Though this appeared to be twofold, where the second part was meant as a misdirection to hide a secret from you. 

“It should be obvious that I like you,” he stated plainly.

Obvious to the point where he couldn’t afford to have one of those obnoxious Anarchs stake their claim over you, just for a bit of territory. You were worth so much more to him than that. Surely, it would be the lesser of two evils for him to be the one to Embrace you? It was all he could think about when he made that deal with Ada. Always justifying and compromising. That was what he was known for.

You couldn't fathom the sheer astonishment and joy that overcame him when Ada returned with the news a few weeks later:

“The Prince granted your wish,” she mentioned with an indifferent wave of her hand.

“How?” he choked in disbelief. “It usually takes years!”

“You underestimate me,” she scoffed. “Have you forgotten that I’m the voice of society?”

“No, of course not.” He hung his head in disgrace, as if he had just been told off by a parent.

“Anyway, I don’t have to tell you twice that you should thank him in person.” 

Lifting a bejeweled chalice to her lips, she tasted its contents, allowing it to linger on the palate before letting it wash down her throat. “And by ‘thank’, I mean ‘grovel’.”

“Yes, sire.” He bent down on his knee and kissed the back of her hand in respect.

A shadow of annoyance flickered across her face, morphing into a frown. “You do know this makes you look weak?” she questioned rhetorically. “Being unable to convince the Prince yourself?”

He knew better than to respond when Ada was in such a mood.

“Don’t embarrass me.” 

Her warning rang loud and clear in his ears.

“Who is it obvious to?” you challenged, pulling him out of his reverie. Maybe you had an undeniable urge to see him lose control over you again.

At this, he drew closer towards you, his eyes ablaze like a blue flame, as he snaked his arms around your waist. That was it — the thrill, the feeling you missed. It rippled through your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. But before he could go any further, a sudden force tore him from his hold on you, hauling him violently backwards. He was flung in the air across a couple of yards, landing against the wall of a building with a sickening crack.

In the background, you heard screams coming from all directions, alongside whooshing sounds, followed by loud thuds. One soon popped up behind you and in an instant you found yourself smacked to the ground. There was a shrill ringing in your ears, your eyes watered, and your vision blurred as you started seeing double in front of you. You felt the back of your head. Wet. Sticky. Flowing. Your fingers were red and the concussion you suffered induced a dizzying spell.

A grizzly face appeared before you, but you couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features, except for the familiar shape of long fangs that glistened under the arbor lights. There was no time to put up a fight or even cry out for help, as you began to sink deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Leon had watched the entire scene unfurl before him like a twisted snuff film coming to life. The attack had taken him by surprise, but he quickly got up from his fall, resetting his bones and shaking it off like nothing had happened. The whole place was awash in scarlet. Blood streaked the city streets, trickling into every gap and crack, as the victims were messily drained of their lifesource. Whoever was behind this wanted the world to know. And that was when he witnessed the first of them turn.

A Mass Embrace? These Kindred definitely reeked of the Sabbat, and if not, they weren’t anyone who had been presented before the Prince; he would know. There wasn’t a second left to spare — he had to find you immediately. In his line of sight, he saw one of the culprits feeding on you greedily, and the primal rage he felt within him almost caused his Beast to take over. He hunched over and growled ferociously. His features transformed into something monstrous and his eyes were crazed as globs of saliva dribbled down his mouth.

It was fanning the flames of a Frenzy, one where he would slaughter every being in his path regardless of who they were, tearing them from limb to limb, and eviscerating their carcasses for what they had done to you. But his concern for your well-being won him over. Mustering up his willpower, he resisted the Beast as much as he could, and though he was still enraged, he needed to think straight and prioritize getting you to safety. That was all that mattered.

In the bat of an eye, he zipped across, yanking the other vampire away from your limp body, as they traded rapid blows. Another aggressor joined in the fight, as Leon dodged their swift counterattacks with deceptive ease, before connecting his right fist to one of their jaws and dealing a precise uppercut with his left to the other’s ribs, catching both of them off-guard. 

Everything seemed to pass by in quicktime as he moved with an unnatural grace, spinning mid-air over one of their backs, only to grab the other from behind and slam him to the ground savagely. Gathering the rest of his strength, he took advantage of the momentum to stomp on the vampire’s head with the heel of his shoe. There was a nauseating crunch as his skull caved in from the blunt force trauma, splintering and sending blood splashing across the pavement, driving him straight into torpor. One down, one more to go.

The brutality of the violence he had displayed unnerved him, yet fuelled his excitement as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He attributed it to being partially influenced by the Beast the moment those bastards had put your life in danger. At least he had not fully succumbed to it. That was what he tried to tell himself while putting a lid on his unquenchable thirst for more. More violence. More bloodshed. They deserve it…

A cacophony of ghastly howls erupted from a distance, bringing him back to reality. Jill, it had to be, Leon realized. The Sheriff was coming to subdue this severe breach of the Masquerade. As the other vampire lunged at him, Leon’s reflexes took over, timing it such that he skirted the edge of the assault unscathed. Instead, he circled around, placing the attacker in an unyielding headlock. The vampire struggled vigorously, attempting to kick and claw his way out of Leon’s grip.

It was then that he heard Jill’s gruff yells in the vicinity, as the pack of dogs under her control barked and gnashed their teeth viciously at the remaining offenders, clamping down on their legs to prevent them from escaping. The Hound, a group of Kindred who reported to her, had arrived in tow, twirling wooden shafts in their hands, each sharpened at one end. Grinning menacingly, they struck at the assailants, staking them immobile before dragging them away.

“You need this one?” Leon called out. He might as well play by their rules where he got the chance, even if the Prince himself had decreed a perpetual Blood Hunt on the Sabbat. Anything to be in the former’s good graces. It was all for show, anyway.

Jill turned sharply, her mouth contorting into a wicked smirk, as she stalked towards him. “Leon… always at the right place, right time, huh?” Her voice was more akin to brutish snarl, but he knew when she meant her threats and when she didn’t. At this point, she was on his side.

“We have our hands full of the rebellious trash.” She jerked her thumb back to her crew, who were skulking around in the dark with their catch. “Kill this motherfucker.”

Without hesitation, Leon snapped the vampire’s neck clean, ripping his head off in the process as his lifeless body fell to the ground in a heap. Letting out a huff from the effort, he tossed the head aside, feeling nothing for the wretched being that lay at his feet. Or did he? He chose not to dwell on it any further, finding something else to distract himself with as he glanced down at his clothes, frowning when he noticed they were smeared with all sorts of fluids and innards. Dry cleaning was gonna be a bitch.

Jill signaled towards your body with her chin. “This one’s barely alive.”

“She’s mine.” A deep-seated possessiveness surged through him as he stepped between you and Jill, unwilling to let you be snatched away from his grasp again. Swooping down, he lifted you into his arms, ready to cart you off from this gruesome site. “Please, I don’t have much time.”

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head and a low rumble reverberated from her chest. “Alright, pretty boy. You’re answerable to the Prince though,” she warned.

“Understood,” he replied snippily, cringing at the nickname she often used to wind him up.

Directing her attention once again to her Hound, she commanded, “Torch the rest!”

The poor, newly created vampires never stood a chance, dealing with both the life-changing alterations to their bodies and the molotov cocktails now lobbed at them. They had no idea what was happening as they were set aflame in the towering bonfire, screeching and wailing until they were reduced to nothing but ashes. The smell of singed skin and flesh hung in the air.

Tightening his grip on you, Leon recoiled involuntarily in fear as he fled from the raging inferno. “Hang in there for me,” he whispered, praying to a long-forgotten god that he wouldn’t be too late this time. 

Racing like his life depended on it, he kept to the shadows, using the cover of darkness to navigate through the maze of Raccoon City towards his haven.

[minjiuhildegard]

Steel Heart

Part 1 of ?

Not my gif

English is not my native language

Patrick Jane x Oc! Irina Arkhangelsky

Summary : A murder investigation leads Patrick Jane to a military base, where he encounters not only a killer but also a woman with a heart of steel. Word count : 4.3 k

The morning was bright, with the intense sun lighting up the small province of Wyoga Lake. The road had been long, and those were Patrick's thoughts as he looked out at the landscape from the car window while Teresa drove. It had been nearly three hours on the road before they finally arrived.

When Teresa parked the car, a police officer stepped out of a vehicle parked near the barriers that separated the crime scene. He approached them as soon as he noticed the agents getting out of the car and walking toward him.

"Darrin Farr, Chief of Police," he said, extending his hand to Teresa. She shook his hand firmly. "Welcome. Are you Agent Lisbon?" he asked, giving her a keen look.

"Yes," Teresa replied with a nod. "And this is Patrick Jane."

"Hi," Patrick greeted with his laid-back, characteristic smile.

"Thanks for coming," Farr said, showing a slight smile of gratitude. "I've never called the FBI before. I want to see your work."

Both agents just smiled in response, and the police chief, seemingly understanding there was nothing more to say at that moment, began to walk toward the crime scene.

"Right," he said, tilting his head toward the body. "The victim's name is Lucy Greene," he informed them as he reached the body. "She was killed last night, around 11 p.m. Her throat was cut."

"Charming," Patrick commented with a sarcastic tone as he followed the officer, along with Lisbon.

"She had military identification," Farr added as they got closer to the body, in a more secluded spot away from the crowd. "She was active duty. A corporal," he explained while Teresa crouched beside the corpse. "She was probably stationed at Front Runyon."

"That's one miles away, right?" Teresa asked, glancing up at him as she stood up slightly.

"Yes," Farr answered nonchalantly. "Soldiers from the base come to town all the time."

"I see," Teresa murmured, looking back at the body before Patrick interrupted with another question.

"Ah, if the coroner isn't here, how do you know the time of death?" he asked, pointing at Farr while crouching beside Lucy, examining the scene.

"Someone called emergency at 11 p.m.," the officer explained. "They said a woman had been killed... in front of the church."

"Who called? Did they identify themselves?" Teresa asked, still crouched, looking at the officer intently.

"No," Farr answered. "The operator asked them to wait, that they would send a car. When she returned, the call had been disconnected."

Before anything else could be said, a sound from the street caught everyone's attention. They turned and saw a large olive-green vehicle pulling up in front of the crime scene.

"What’s this?" Teresa asked, surprised and confused by the sudden arrival.

"Military," Farr replied, as though he'd been expecting the situation.

"Figured as much," Patrick commented, watching the vehicle with a sharp gaze as the door opened and a uniformed man stepped out.

Jane stood up, followed by Teresa, who stopped beside him. Both watched as the military man approached.

"Chief Farr?" the soldier asked, calling the man, standing straight and completely ignoring the agents’ presence.

"Yes?" Farr answered, looking at him.

"Lieutenant Averill Lewis. Bravo Company, 2nd Platoon. I’m here under the command of General Arkhangelsky," the lieutenant identified himself, walking briskly toward the officer and shaking his hand firmly. "Thanks for letting us know," he said with the same tone before looking at Lucy’s body on the ground. "Damn! We’ll take over the case from here," he stated coldly as his eyes scanned the scene. Patrick and Teresa exchanged quick glances before looking back at the lieutenant, who was now being followed by other soldiers who had exited the vehicle. "They’re from our Investigation Division. Please, leave the crime scene for them."

"Lieutenant," Teresa interrupted, maintaining a professional stance. "I’m Agent Lisbon with the FBI. We’ll handle this."

"Ma’am," Lieutenant Lewis began in a serious, controlled voice, while Jane watched with an amused smile, "Corporal Greene was a medic in my platoon. It’s our responsibility."

"I understand why you feel that way," Teresa replied firmly, locking eyes with him, "but this case is ours."

"Chief Farr," the lieutenant started again, now completely ignoring Teresa’s response. "I think the decision is yours, right?"

"I was hoping your agency would send more than two people," Farr said, looking at Lisbon, clearly unsure about the situation.

"Our team is on the way," Teresa replied, a bit irritated by the lieutenant's attitude.

"Our team is here," Lewis said, once again ignoring Teresa, while Jane remained silent. "We’ve investigated homicides on four continents."

"Nice slogan," Patrick commented, with his playful tone and easy smile. "Four continents. Are these the guys?" he asked, turning toward the robust soldiers who stood with rigid posture, hands behind their backs and heads straight. "They look like they've never left Salt Lake City," he teased with a mischievous grin, before turning back to face the lieutenant.

"Who are you?" the lieutenant asked, hostility clear in his voice.

"I’m with her," Patrick replied, pointing to Teresa, who forced a quick smile, trying to maintain composure. "Lisbon, you used to play clarinet, didn’t you? What’s that tune?" he asked, pointing at a tattoo on Lucy’s ankle.

She stood up and walked to the feet of the dead woman, closely observing the musical notes tattooed there.

"Yes," she answered Patrick’s first question, still looking at the music notes. "It’s ‘Kansas City,’" she replied, turning her head to look at him, waiting for an explanation.

‘Kansas City,’ Patrick repeated quietly, before getting lost in thought for a moment. "What’s that?" he asked again, receiving curious looks from Farr and Lewis.

"You know," Teresa said before she began to hum the melody, accompanying it with hand gestures, then softly murmuring the lyrics. The reaction from the two military men was immediate, their gazes intensifying as Patrick smiled, recognizing the tune. He joined her, and they began singing together, their voices intertwining. Teresa stopped singing when she realized the two men were watching her with inquisitive stares.

"It’s really good," Patrick said with a genuine smile, clearly impressed by her talent. "Very good! ‘Kansas City’ is a blues classic. She liked blues," he concluded. "Is there a blues bar around here?"

"Cat’s Blues Bar, a few blocks away," Farr answered, pointing with his head in the direction.

"That’s where she was," Patrick said with certainty, looking around.

"Or not," Averill contradicted immediately, keeping his hostile expression, making Patrick look directly at him, his gaze challenging.

"Look at her left hand," Patrick asked in a serious tone.

"I am looking," the lieutenant replied, still trying to understand what was important there.

"If you looked a bit closer..." Patrick continued calmly but with a precise explanation, "you’d see a slight discoloration. It’s not easy to see, but if you looked at the hand in infrared... you’d clearly see a small, but stylized pink cat stamp," he explained, keeping his gaze fixed on the lieutenant, who was now examining the victim’s hand. "Like the ones they use on the doors of bars and clubs," he added, making the lieutenant look back at him. "So, Cat’s Blues Bar. Thanks," he finished, with an ironic courtesy, leaving both Lewis and Farr silent.

"Lieutenant, we can handle this," Teresa said, breaking the silence with a defiant stance.

"That’s what it seems like," Farr commented, raising his eyebrows at the lieutenant, as if asking him to wrap it up.

"If that’s your decision," Averill said casually, nodding as he turned back toward the vehicle he arrived in. "Let’s go," he said to his soldiers.

"Alright," Patrick commented, humming ‘Kansas City’ again with a satisfied smile.

"Stop that now," Teresa ordered with a light sigh and rolled eyes.

"Army of two," Patrick joked with the police chief, grinning widely.

They gathered all the available information about Lucy Greene, an exemplary soldier who had returned from Afghanistan just two months earlier. During her mission, she was awarded a medal of honor for an act of heroism: she managed to stabilize two severely injured comrades under enemy fire and protected them until the rescue team arrived. It was a feat that reflected her courage and dedication to service. Her parents, residents of New Jersey, were devastated by the news of her death.

As for the anonymous call that alerted the police, little was known. The only concrete detail was that the call had been made from a payphone located near the site where her body was found. Authorities were still waiting for the recording of the call, which Teresa had requested to be sent to her email. The momentary silence in the investigation room was filled with the sounds of papers being shuffled and keys being pressed as everyone worked to connect the pieces of the case.

"Did the victim have any close friends?" Lisbon asked, breaking the silence as she mentally analyzed the collected data.

"Yes," Cho replied, still focused on the documents spread out in front of him. After a few seconds, he added, "Her emergency contact was another doctor from the platoon, Rose Sutfin."

"Jane and I will speak to her," Teresa declared, already decided on the next steps. Before leaving, she turned to Cho and gave another direct order: "Go check the bar where she was drinking."

Turning to Fisher, she asked matter-of-factly, "Who’s our contact at Fort Runyon?"

"Lieutenant Lewis," Fisher replied calmly, briefly looking up from her papers.

"Great," Teresa commented, barely concealing her displeasure, before leaving the room to get a coffee, leaving Kim puzzled by her reaction.

The investigation was progressing in calculated steps, but the glances exchanged between the investigators revealed a growing tension. It was clear that Lucy Greene’s case was complex. Dealing with military matters was delicate in itself, but with those individuals? Extremely delicate.

The military base of Fort Runyon was immense, perhaps larger than the province where it was located. Upon arrival, they were met with stern looks and a palpable tension that seemed to permeate the air. However, no one drew Patrick Jane’s attention more than the woman he spotted while following Lieutenant Lewis alongside Teresa. She was overseeing the training of rookie cadets, issuing orders with unquestionable authority. It was impossible not to deduce that she was superior in many respects.

Tall and with an impeccable posture that exuded command, she was the very embodiment of discipline. Her curly hair, black with bluish highlights, was tied back in a large, tight bun, while her dark brown eyes seemed as deep as these were impenetrable. When they landed on Averill Lewis, these grew even darker. The contrast between the ethereal softness of her appearance and the almost cruel coldness of her expression was, to say the least, unsettling.

As they approached the base hospital, Lewis broke the silence:

“Corporal Greene worked at the hospital,” he commented, pulling Patrick back to reality and diverting his attention from that imposing figure. “Most of the doctors here hold a position there. Know that I bear no grudge about having the case taken from us…” he continued, walking with firm steps, “but I’d appreciate knowing its progress.”

Lisbon responded promptly, trying to stay focused:

“We’ll do our best,” before asking, “Did you know Lucy well?”

Lewis hesitated before replying:

“No.” His voice sounded ordinary, but he quickly added, “I took over the platoon just a few mon...”

A woman’s deep voice interrupted him abruptly:

“Lieutenant Averill Lewis.”

The strength in her tone immediately caught Patrick’s attention, making him turn his head, followed by Teresa. The voice was commanding, laden with a flawless Russian accent, which seemed to match her presence perfectly. Lewis straightened his posture almost instinctively, as if reacting to a conditioned reflex.

“General,” he quickly replied, offering a reverence that made Patrick raise his eyebrows and smile, while Teresa frowned, intrigued.

“You know, Lieutenant Lewis, I received a curious and certainly unexpected call from Police Chief Darrin Farr.” Her expression remained hard, a mask that Jane tried unsuccessfully to decipher. Observing her was like staring at a smooth wall, without any visible mark or crack. Yet Patrick felt, with conviction, that there were hidden fissures in that seemingly unshakable structure, and his curiosity was piqued to uncover them.

Even as the General’s words echoed, Jane’s mind wandered, absorbed in details. He noticed the perfect angle of her chin, her military cap positioned with precision, and the uniform adorned with medals of honor. The latter intrigued him particularly, as she did not appear old enough to boast so many achievements.

“He apologized for dismissing an investigative team sent under my command to investigate the homicide of Corporal Lucy Greene.”

The mention of the case brought Jane back to reality. He registered her accent, which he found sensual, even amid the severity of her tone. Lewis lowered his head and tensed his jaw under the General’s sharp gaze, like a reprimanded child.

Lisbon, on the other hand, remained focused, listening intently to every word from the General. Something about that dialogue seemed to foreshadow trouble.

“I thought I had been perfectly clear when I ordered you to leave this case to the local authorities. Or was I not?” The question was accompanied by a subtle raising of her eyebrow, so slight it almost went unnoticed. The movement made Lewis lower his gaze to his own feet.

“Answer when I ask you a question, Lieutenant.”

Her tone didn’t change, but the hostile authority in her speech was enough to provoke an automatic reaction from Lewis. He raised his head and answered:

“Yes, ma’am,” swallowing hard. On the side, Jane smiled more and more, clearly amused by the dynamics.

“Well, if I was clear, why did I receive that call?” she pressed. Her impassivity remained, and her attention was entirely focused on Lewis, still ignoring Jane and Lisbon.

Lewis seemed to struggle against the intimidation. Standing a few feet away, Patrick and Teresa watched the scene while the General suffocated the Lieutenant with her unyielding, predatory gaze, like that of a hawk.

Jane, observing, noted that Averill seemed to suppress his fear, though his body betrayed him. The mentalist was fascinated by the General’s presence. She was intimidating in an almost natural way, a dazzling figure whose aura of command defied any resistance.

“I asked you a question, Lieutenant Lewis. Answer.” Her tone was unchanging, her posture rigid, and each word carried a calculated weight. Jane remained intrigued, noting the nuances in her eyes, which seemed to hold a mysterious fire.

Lewis finally replied hesitantly:

“Because I led the investigative team to the city to handle Corporal Greene’s case.”

“Excuse me…” Teresa tried to intervene, but a simple gesture from the General, with her open palm, silenced her.

“Let me correct your answer, Lieutenant Lewis.” She spoke slowly, almost like distilling venom. “You disobeyed a direct command from your General… again.”

The tension was increasing. Jane, oblivious to the growing discomfort, seemed to enjoy himself more and more. He was relishing watching Averill in that embarrassing situation, but his true curiosity was fixed on that woman.

“I apologize, General Arkhangelsky.” Lewis’s voice carried a failing attempt to conceal his nervousness.

“I hope this apology is more sincere than the last, Lieutenant.” She approached with calculated steps, stopping directly in front of him. “I’d hate to have the work of signing your demotion after having signed your promotion so recently.”

Patrick observed her every move, analyzing the military precision even in the smallest gestures she didn’t even seem aware of.

“Remember your place, Lieutenant, and… above all, mine.” She concluded, looking him directly in the eyes without wavering. “You have work to do with the new cadets in training. I’ll handle the visitors from here.”

Lewis responded with a “Yes, ma’am” before leaving, visibly displeased.

The General turned to Teresa, who promptly tried to initiate a greeting. Jane, however, stepped forward, interrupting her. He extended his hand with a warm smile:

“Patrick Jane, consultant.”

The General evaluated him briefly before shaking his hand coldly and formally, cold even on such a hot day. For that brief moment, he was close enough to catch her scent.

What is that? Cherry? Roses? Both?, he wondered. However, she simply ignored him afterward, turning to greet Teresa in the same manner.

“General Irina Arkhangelsky. I was informed that Fort Runyon should cooperate with your investigation.”

Still intrigued, Jane noticed that her impassiveness was even more unsettling than her appearance. He tried to make conversation:

“Cooperation would be great. You have a beautiful name, General, as unmistakable as your lovely accent… Care to grab a coffee? I know some great coffee shops here in Salt Lake.”

Lisbon quickly intervened, her eyes wide:

“Don’t mind him,” she said, laughing nervously. “I’m Special Agent Lisbon, FBI.”

The General didn’t reply, nor did she show any reaction to Jane’s charm. She merely gestured for them to follow her to the hospital. Patrick, however, knew he had found a new one mystery: to decipher her, even if it was like deciphering a wall. To him, the General was like a fortress—and he was determined to find the key.

"Corporal Sutfin is conducting inventory," Irina said after a long period of silence, her footsteps echoing through the narrow, orderly corridors. Each of her movements was robotic, as though she had rehearsed the routine countless times and could now walk those halls with her eyes closed. At every corner they turned, soldiers adjusted their posture, puffing out their chests in automatic reverence, only to be ignored by the General. Patrick followed closely behind, quickly skipping to keep up with her, which contrasted with her firm march, while his carefree smile seemed glued to his face. Teresa, on the other hand, trailed behind, huffing, clearly irritated by the brisk pace.

Irina stopped in front of a gray metal door. It showed no signs of wear, despite constant use. She opened it with a firm motion. Without saying a word, she stood still, waiting for them to enter.

"Thank you." Lisbon said, walking past Patrick and her, quickly stepping into the room.

The General followed Teresa with a clinical, impassive gaze before turning to the blond man who, instead of entering, decided to approach her.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Jane?" she asked, her voice cold as steel, her eyes, burning with their own emotionless void, scanning him with machine-like precision, never lingering on anything twice. These were the same eyes that had intimidated Lewis minutes earlier.

"You don't have to be so formal, General. You can call me Patrick," he replied, his tone light and relaxed, the unwavering smile framing his face. Holding the door open with one hand slightly above her head, he leaned forward slightly, using the moment to take in her distinct scent. "It would be rude of me not to hold the door for a lady, especially one so beautiful as you are."

Patrick’s smile widened, but as expected, he received no reaction.

The brunette didn’t respond, turning without hesitation and stepping into the room, leaving him alone, still holding the door. He watched as her figure, perfectly composed with an impeccable silhouette, even in uniform, walked away. Despite the lack of reciprocity, his smile remained fixed on his face as he followed her.

"Corporal Sutfin." Her voice cut through the air, drawing the attention of a short blonde woman who quickly turned around, clearly startled—likely expecting Lewis, not Arkhangelsky.

"General." The response came with an almost mechanical movement as she stood at attention.

"Corporal." Jane greeted her, casting an assessing glance her way.

"At ease, Corporal," Irina ordered with crisp efficiency, though Rose’s posture didn’t relax. "These are the investigators I trust Lieutenant Lewis had the competence to inform you about. Assist them as needed."

"Yes, ma’am," Sutfin replied, nodding slightly before the General turned to leave them alone.

"You still haven’t answered my invitation, General." Patrick’s voice rang out loudly, cutting through the silence just as she was crossing the threshold. Irina neither turned nor slowed her pace, ignoring the provocation without hesitation. "Alright, you can answer later, if you like," he added, still smiling.

Jane's informal and provocative manner of addressing the stern Slavic woman caused Sutfin to look at him with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Teresa, meanwhile, huffed, exasperated for what felt like the hundredth time in a few seconds, though she suspected it might somehow relate to the case.

"Which one was Lucy’s locker?" Patrick asked, straightening his posture and shifting his playful expression to something more serious, though the smile never fully left his face, and his posture remained casual.

"Number 116," Sutfin replied, moving to one of the lockers aligned on the wall and pointing at an open one. "Over there. I already had it unlocked for you."

"Oh, thank you." Patrick leaned in to examine the locker’s interior. Every detail was meticulously organized, almost spotless.

"How long had you known Lucy?" Lisbon asked, crossing her arms as she observed the interaction.

"Two years," Sutfin replied quickly but with a touch of nostalgia. "Since my first deployment to Afghanistan."

"What was she like?" Patrick asked again, his gaze fixed on her.

"Smart. Very disciplined. General Arkhangelsky liked her, and she doesn’t like nearly anyone." Sutfin responded without hesitation, but her tone carried a tacit respect. "Even before Afghanistan, the General said she appreciated her work and that Lucy didn’t have to learn from mistakes. She didn’t make any."

"Well, discipline comes at a price," Patrick remarked, glancing briefly at the door Irina had exited moments earlier. He mentally noted her appreciation for order, which was already evident, but he wanted to know the price she paid for it. Turning his attention back to the corporal, he asked, "What did she struggle with?"

"People, I think," Sutfin replied after a moment of reflection. "The guys in the unit, mostly. She was the first to admit she was addicted to the rules. Really detail-oriented." She paused to sniff slightly. "She would point out our mistakes—not everyone likes that, especially the mens."

"Did you defend her?" Patrick asked, his voice a little softer but still incisive.

"I tried," she whispered. "She looked out for me."

"Did anything unusual happen recently?" Teresa intervened this time, breaking the moment.

"Someone was sending her flowers," Sutfin revealed thoughtfully. "Someone from the clinic. She didn’t say who it was. I think she was worried."

"What clinic?" Lisbon asked, narrowing her eyes.

"The psychology clinic," the corporal replied simply. "If she wasn’t here, she was accompanying the General there. You should talk to Dr. Bowman." She paused before adding, "He was her supervisor when the General couldn’t go with her."

Teresa took a few steps to the side, answering her ringing phone. "Excuse me," she muttered as she walked away.

"Is that all?" Sutfin asked, looking directly at Patrick, whose expression had returned to a more relaxed demeanor.

"Oh, yes," he replied after a brief silence, then gave her a steady look. "Unless you want to talk about that other thing."

"What?" The confusion on the corporal’s face was genuine, but there was something more. She seemed uncomfortable.

"The one you didn’t want me to ask about." Patrick’s brief smile gave his statement an even more enigmatic tone.

"I don’t know what that is," she replied, trying to remain impassive.

Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly, analyzing every detail of her reaction. "Neither do I." He took a few steps toward the door but stopped abruptly, spinning on his heels. "Actually, there’s one more thing I’m curious about."

"What is it?" she asked, now visibly tense.

"Your General. Irina Arkhangelsky." He pronounced the name slowly, watching her reaction.

"Is she a suspect?" Her voice trembled slightly, laden with panic. It was clear she admired Irina and would defend her tooth and nail.

"Oh, no, no," he chuckled softly, brushing off the idea. "I’m just curious, to say the least. What do you know about her?"

"Ah." Sutfin exhaled, relieved but still disconcerted. "I think everyone inside and outside the base has that curiosity. No one knows much about her, to be honest." She paused, as if searching her memory. "The only person who knew anything about her was the former General, Armand Russell. He retired due to age and passed the position to her. His son, Theodore Russell, was a medic here, and she was close to them."

"Was?" Patrick arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Well…" Sutfin hesitated, casting a nervous glance at the door. "He died in Afghanistan in a terrorist explosion with six other injured soldiers about three years ago. There were a lot of rumors about Corporal Russell and General Arkhangelsky when she was still a lieutenant."

"What kind of rumors?" he pressed.

"I only heard a few, one about them being half-siblings, because they looked alike—the only big difference being their eye color; his were blue like marbles," she explained under Patrick’s watchful gaze. "And there was another about them having a secret relationship. From what Lucy told me, they were protective of each other, and Theodore always managed to steal hugs from her. At his funeral, they said she shed a few tears, and after that, she took almost a year off. When she returned, it was like her heart was made of steel. No one ever found out why. When she came back, she became the General."

Patrick considered this for a moment, his mind already forming new connections—though too many to draw a conclusion just yet. Even if Irina kept her pieces hidden, he knew he would find where she had hidden them.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Rose." He concluded with his characteristic smile, leaving the room without waiting for a response, leaving her even more perplexed.

Next

[mentally-unstable-hottie13]

⭐️senior year sucks⭐️

Henry Bowers x FEM!reader

Chapter 1 here

Chapter summery: right as you were making progress Henry's crazy ass friends have to ruin it.

Word count: 3,161

Estimated reading time: 14 mins

A/N: thank you for being patient with me

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Chapter 7

That stupid fucking bandaid

WA! WA! WA! WA!

You smacked your alarm clock off the bedside table with a groan. You didn’t want to get up. Your bed was so warm and cozy. Who the fuck even told the sun it was allowed to come up? They should fall into a hole to rot while maggots feast on their ears.. You groan and throw the covers off you. It was Friday. The school decided not to have the first week of school be an actual full week so students could get back to being used to school. You wake up killer and take him downstairs to feed him before you get ready. To your shock, Kevin was awake and at the kitchen counter drinking his coffee. He was never a morning person so seeing him awake this early was a treat. You nod him a ‘hello’ before getting the bag of killers food. As you are bending down to pour the food in the bowl, Kevin starts to talk.

“I heard you with someone last night.” He states.

You stiffen.

“Hmm?” Is the best reply you can give.

“After you were in the kitchen last night I heard 2 sets of footsteps go up the stairs, and I know it wasn’t the dog.” He blows on his coffee before taking another sip. He’s not angry. Just curious. “Who was it?” He asks.

You finish with the bag of food and put it up. “I don’t wanna tell you” you say softly. You know Kevin doesn't care for the Bowers after telling you to not only stay away from that pig cop but also Henry and his friends. Kevin’s eyes soften and he sets down his cup.

“You don’t have to tell me, as long as you promise that you were safe.”

“I can pinky promise” you giggle.

“Good,” he gives you a short hug. “Now go get ready. I’m taking you to school today.”

You beam. “Really!?” You ask excitedly.

“Yeah I got some errands to do for the shop, I’ll drop you off then pick you up and we can buy you some shit for school.”

You run up the stairs to get ready and he laughs. You brush your teeth and hair, put on your minimal makeup then get dressed. Because you wouldn’t be riding your bike today and it was still a little chilly, you put on a blue and green, flower designed, long bell sleeve top that ties in the front. For bottoms you paired the top with a long ankle length white skirt. You left your hair down and added some jewelry to feel sparkly. You threw on your shoes, got your bag and ran downstairs practically leaping off the last few to get to the bottom floor faster. Kevin who was waiting by the door guffawed at your theatrics and opens the front door for you. Today killer would be staying home because of the errands Kevin had to do. If you could take killer to school with you, you would.

You arrive to the school a few minutes later than you usually do which means everyone was also getting there. You saw where the losers were and pointed to them.

“Those are my friends. Right over there.”

He looks at them as he pulls up to the front.

“Why not invite them to the shop after school Monday? I’ll buy some food and y’all can hang out?” He proposed.

You feel giddy again. “I’d love that.” You give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before hopping out of the truck. You pull up your skirt a little a jog to the losers. Kevin speeds away in his truck, passing the entering trans am full of teenage boys as he exits the school parking lot. Belch notices him.

“What the fuck is that weird dude from the record shop doing in the school lot?” Belch wonders.

Patrick laughs“Ohh~ didn’t you hear. Him and his little assistant are” he thrusts his hips. “Involved.” They all laugh. Well. All but Henry. They don’t know about you like he does.

“Shut the fuck up” Henry growls.

The gang didn’t know what the fuck was up today. They knew his old man was probably pissed about the knife. And after Butch “got on him” about shit like that Henry was always in a bad mood, but this morning was different. He was irritated at everything, everyone said.

The gang pulls into the lot and get out. As they exit they take a Quick Look around. Patrick is the one to notice you talking to the losers by the front.

“Ohoho boys, why did no one tell us the new hottie was friends with the freaks?”

Henry immediately looks up to where Patrick is facing. And sure enough, there you are plain as day. You're laughing at something one of those freaks said and have your hand on your stomach. He didn’t tell the guys he saw you in the woods. He just said he went after Beverly and she got away. Now there was no hiding you from them, from him. He wasn’t going to change his behavior to the group because of you. If you were in it, you were gonna get the same treatment, no exceptions. That was, at least around others. Henry was in control of people by fear. If he was suddenly nice to the losers, no one would fear his as much as they should. Henry was dangerous, and it’s better if everyone knew that right out of the gate so they didn’t get themselves killed. You knew it, you just, for some reason…. Pushed it aside. That’s what confuses him.

You and the losers walked inside as the bell rung and went your separate ways. You saunter into Chem class and take your seat. Leaving the window seat for Henry. He went through the ringer last night. The least you can do is give him his seat. Henry walks in with that signature sour look on his face. He glances at you before sitting down in his seat. The teacher turns off the lights and begins to project a video onto the projector screen.

A few moments into the video you look at Henry. His eyes are out the window, you take something out of your bag and slide it over to him. He looks down at the table to see a brand new bruise cream and 2 more of that stupid fucking band aid. He looks at you but your eyes are on the screen. He takes the bandages and cream and stuff them in his pocket.

You still have a black eye. He feels a little bad about it. Even with a big ass bruise on your eye you look so pretty. He can’t believe you are so kind to him. He wonders what the fuck your motive is?

Class dismissed and you wave Henry a small goodbye and leave. Classes from then on were just plain old boring.

The lunch bell rings and you get your of class. As you exit you run into Mike. You had no idea his class was right beside yours. You go to him and lock arms, as you walk with him the 2 of you discuss this new video game he’s playing. It sounds like a genuinely fun game. At one point Mike says something funny and you can’t help but laugh. You were always like like with friends. You held their hands, you hugged them, maybe depending on the person you kissed them on the cheek. Why be friends with someone if you couldn’t be close? So far the losers didn’t seem to mind.

As you laugh at what Mike said you pass the Bowers gang. To be honest you really didn’t even see them. Henry and Belch were leaned up agains lockers as you passed while Patrick and Vic stood in front of them.

Patrick whistles at you and you turn, Mike keeps walking. He knows better.

“Hey pretty girl. Why not take a ride with me tonight? I’ll give you the time of your night.” He holds up a v with his fingers to his mouth and begins moving his tongue between it.

You cringe at him and give a fake ass smile.

“No thanks man. I appreciate the offer but I like my men mentally stable and preferably bathed” you blow him a kiss and jog to catch up with Mike, who looks like he’s trying to become invisible.

Patrick frowned at your retreating body while the boys laughed at him. Henry sure as fuck didn’t like what Patrick said. But it looks as though you can handle yourself in a verbal back and fourth with the psycho.

Patrick turns to the group and hits Belch upside the head for laughing.

“Did you fuckers see that? She was walking around with that fucking crack baby?!” Patrick pouts. He’s trying to egg Henry on. He knows for a fact that Henry hates Mike more than any of those other freaks. “She was walking with her arm in his! The bitch was all fuckibg over him” Patrick continues.

It worked.

Henry growled and hit his hand on the locked before pushing off it to walk outside. The gang follows him, So ready to have some fun.

They march through the front doors and look around. They see all of you riding your bikes toward the bridge. He focused on you. You were on the back of mikes bike. With your arms around his waist. Where the fuck was your bike? He stomps toward the parking lot and the boys sprint to follow. The gang piled into the trans am and Henry lit up a cigarette as belch pulled out of the spot and tried to exit the lot.

You were currently having the time of your life. All of you were laughing and swerving the streets like birds. Mike let you hitch a ride with him because he actually had back pegs and a longer seat. The group of you were giggling your heads off at nothing in particular when you hear a loud sound. The sound of an engine. The sound of an engine coming right at you.

You look behind you and yell in fear.

“BOWERS!!!”

All the other losers look behind them and try their hardest to speed out of the way before the trans am could hit them. Lucky for them. They were aiming for you. Not just you. Mostly Mike , you were just a 20 point bonus.

They swerve to try and hit you causing Mike to also swerve in fear and drop the bike. Both you and Mike fall and look up at the boys in the car. Henry stood out of the windoe and flicked his cigarette at the pair of you.

“STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING TOWN!!” He screamed before getting back in the care and speeding off. As they sped you could hear them laugh as they kicked up dust. You and Mike cough and hack while he stands to offer you a hand. You gladly take it and rise. The others run over to you.

“Are you guys okay?” Ben asks worriedly.

“Of fucking course they aren’t. Henry just tried to kill them. Then he dusted them with this poison mixed with homeless men’s possessions” Eddie replied before you could while he took a puff of his inhaler.

He was in fact always this on edge.

You dust yourself off and get ahold of your coughing.

“I’m fine” Mike says. “Are you?”

“Yeah…yeah I think so.” You tried to dust off your skirt but for now it was a lost cause. You’d have to wash it to get all the grime off. What a shame. You felt really pretty in this skirt too.

What was that about? You knew you and Henry wouldn’t be besties but you thought he would at least not try to kill you? He was so confusing. There must be something wrong with that boy. He didn’t seem to mind you in class and now he was yelling at you to “get out of his town”? What the fuck does that even mean? You didn’t know that what he yelled wasn’t for you. It was for Mike, it just so happened that you were hit with the cigarette making it seem directed at you. You weren’t burned though. Thank god.

You really didn’t know how much more of this you could take. This boys mood swings were too much.

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You wide mouth yawn and rub the tiredness out of your eyes. You swear, schools purposefully make the last class of the day the most boring. They want you to sleep and fail. Those heartless school administrative heathens!

You stand up to leave class as school is dismissed and see Richie, Eddie and Bill walking out of the parallel classroom. You run up to catch them. You walk next to Eddie and join the conversation. They nod you hello and continue speaking.

Eddie continues talking. “So there's like this church full of Jews right? And Stan has to take this super jewie test.”

Ah. They were talking about Stan’s late bar mitzvah. Stan’s dad was the Jewish priest or something. Crazy how he didn’t get it at 13. I guess his family pushed it aside until now. On his 16th birthday.

“But how’s it work?” Bill asks confused

Eddie raises his hands and answers “they slice the tip of his dick off.”

You snort. You wonder how Stanley will handle his Brit Milah at such a grown age. That’s gonna suck for him.

Richie comments, “but then Stan’ll have nothing left!” He looks at you, as if for you to agree.

“Wow what a real knee slapper, Rich. Really. So funny I forgot to laugh” you reply.

“So which is it doofus? A knee slapper or so funny you forgot to laugh? Can’t be both moron.” He shoots back at you in that signature Richie way.

“Hey guys wait up!” Stan yells before running up behind Bill and Eddie.

Curiosity takes over Bill and he finally asks Stan, “So Stan…w-w-what happens at bar mitzvah anyways? Eddie says they slice the tip of your d-d-d-dick off.”

You all turn a corner down a hallway towards the entrance.

“Yeah and I think the rabbi’s gonna pull down your pants, turn to the crowd and say “where’s the beef?!’” Richie remarks and all of you laugh. Stanley explains to y’all that he reads from the Torah, does a big speech, and ba-bam he’s officially a man.

“I could think of way funner things to do to become a man.” Richie says.

“Yeah. Like Eddie's mom.” You snort.

“Heyo!!” Richie shouts before reaching above everyone to high five you.

You all pass the Bowers gang in the exact spot they were for lunch and the boys all keep their heads down. You. On the other hand, were so disgustingly stubborn and refuse to bow your head. You walked with your fucking head up. If they didn’t like it they could suck your metaphorical dick.

After you pass them Richie turns to y’all. “Think they’ll give me todays notes?” He jokes. You think if he even approached them they’d whoop his ass.

You all turn again and go down the stairs. You walk with the boys to meet with the others and pick up their bikes. After retrieving their bikes you all walk to the front.

“How are you getting home with no bike today?” Ben asks sweetly.

“ Kevin is pickin me up today.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Stanly meekly pauses. “Is he like.. your dad or something?”

“No. He’s just Kevin.” You laugh.

They all look at you funny. Clearly wanting more details. You huff.

“We were friends growing up, I had some issues back home and he allowed me to come and stay with him. End of story. There’s not much to it.”

“You're so lucky you get to live with a friend though. It must be a lot of fun.” Beverly smiles sadly.

‘Wonder what’s up with that?’ You think as you look at her sad face.

Unexpectedly Ben’s phone rings. Blasting a 1 direction song. Beverly told you he was a boy band fanatic. Now you really see what she means. You and Beverly look at each other while the song blasts. You take her hand and the 2 of you begin dancing like children and giggling your heads off. You 2 laugh while singing the lyrics and hopping around while the boys laugh and watch.

“Baby you light up my world like nobody else.

The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed,

You both jump and flip your hair to the song.. well… kinda flip it. More like frantically headbanging while laughing.

And when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell,

You don’t know-oh-oh! You don’t know your beautiful”

Ben’s face is a bright red from embarrassment but Beverly winks at him as the 2 of you goof around and now he’s pink for a completely different reason.

While the pair of you danced, neither of you knew of the group of boys watching you from the steps of the school.

Patrick whistles. “Would you look at that?” He gestured to you and Beverly. “Now there's a pair I wouldn’t Mind getting between. A hot girl sandwich sounds like my kinda night” he chuckled.

Henry’s resting bitch face was ever present as he watched you dance. He hated Patrick’s comments about you, but that didn’t mean he disagreed. He was a teenage boy. Nothing he could do about it. Nevertheless, whether he agreed or not, the comments themselves soured the fuck out of his mood. You were the “hot new ass” in town. And Henry was no better than any other man with a wandering eye.

You didn’t find yourself particularly gorgeous. You were pretty of course, but if you had to think of someone gorgeous, you’d pick Beverly. That’s why she was bullied by other girls. She was beautiful. Every boy wanted her. And you could see why. You truly believed that standing next to Beverly dimmed your light. Standing next to her on the street, boys would always look to her before you. At least that’s what you believed. You were by no means ugly. Quite the opposite actually. You just had a bad problem with comparing yourself to her. You loved but also envied her. You feel that if you weren’t the new girl no one would be anywhere near as interested in you as they were.

Now if you told all that to Henry, He’d think that’s just plain not true. He would never tell you how beautiful he thought you were and how much he loved your eyes, mouth, and skin, and smell. He was confused with what he thought of you. You pissed him off and he didn’t want to be friends or anything other than a dude you sit next to in class, but he also felt relaxed around you and could not deny that you were an attractive girl. But just because you find someone attractive doesn't mean you have to like them in any way.

Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 8 here

@amber-sekio update!♥️

[evco-productions]

The Golden Trio

The “Golden Trio” is the Harry Potter fandom’s nickname for the series’ three central heroes: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. You’ll notice a particular dynamic there: two guys and one girl. You may or may not know that what I’ll call the “Golden Trio trope” is hardly limited to Harry Potter. Here are just a few other examples of movies featuring a central guy-guy-girl relationship*…

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (Ferris, Cameron, and Sloane)

Pirates of the Caribbean (Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, and Elizabeth Swann)

Jurassic Park (Sam Neill, Jeff Goldblum, and Laura Dern)

Iron Man (Tony Stark, James Rhodes, and Pepper Potts)

Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice (Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman)

The Perks of Being a Wallflower (Charlie, Patrick, and Sam)

Smokey & the Bandit (Burt Reynolds, Jerry Reed, and Sally Field)

A Few Good Men (Tom Cruise, Kevin Pollack, and Demi Moore)

Shaun of the Dead (Shaun, Ed, and Liz)

Weird Science (Anthony Michael Hall, Ilan Mitchell-Smith, and Kelly LeBrock)

Lethal Weapon 3 (Martin Riggs, Roger Murtaugh, and Lorna Cole)

Me & Earl & the Dying Girl (Thomas Mann, RJ Cyler, and Olivia Cooke)

Garden State (Zach Braff, Peter Sarsgaard, and Natalie Portman)

Sahara (Matthew McConaughey, Steve Zahn, and Penelope Cruz)

License to Drive (Corey Haim, Corey Feldman, and Heather Graham)

Shallow Grave (Kerry Fox, Christopher Eccleston, Ewan McGregor)

And, of course, Star Wars, which features this dynamic in nearly every one of its iterations:

The Original Trilogy (Luke, Han, and Leia)

The Prequel Trilogy (Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padme)

The Sequel Trilogy (Rey, Finn, and Poe)

The Clone Wars (Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan or Rex, depending on the episode)

Rogue One (Jyn, Cassian, and K-2SO—debatable, since K is a droid, but he is voiced by a male actor and is present with the two humans long before the rest of the crew enters the picture)

I could go on for longer, but we’d be here all day. The point is, this happens a lot, and the list above is limited to the live-action films I could come up with off the top of my head. There are many more live-action instances of this trope and, as I understand it, a near-infinite supply within anime/manga stories.

I have written thirteen short stories over the last few years, but the only existing “thru-line” was a particular duology featuring this exact trope. Because I spent a decent amount of time with the three characters in question (Brad, Cory, and Leah are their names), I’m particularly interested in this trope. I cannot recall when their story began to reveal itself to me, but one thing was never in question: these three characters are the endgame. Their friendship is the heart and soul of the piece. This might have come from the source material that inspired the story; I’ve not been shy about admitting how willing I was to rip off my favorite movies in my early years of writing, and there isn’t much difference between Brad/Cory/Leah and Corey/Corey/Heather or Ferris/Cameron/Sloane. But that’s sort of the key here: this trope felt so natural to write because, apparently, it felt natural for a bazillion other writers before me.

To begin interrogating this trope, I considered what my golden trio is “like.” Brad is the hero of the story: we see everything through his eyes and there’s a Richie Cunningham-like demeanor about him in that he has boyish good looks, is a bit of a nerd, and will bravely stand up for his friends if the situation calls for it. Cory, on the other hand, is almost a coward, certainly insecure, is constantly acting like a jackass to hide his insecurity, and is desperately in love with Leah. Leah, for her part, is very clearly the creation of the nineteen-year-old loner I used to be: she’s beautiful, something of a sister figure to Brad, and is secretly just as horny for Cory as he is for her.

Maybe it’s a bit of writer’s guilt for creating such a one-dimensional female character, but in sitting here thinking about this, I have convinced myself that the secret to interrogating this trope really comes down to interrogating the female character’s role within the trope.

Brad, Cory, and Leah’s dynamic is not too different from what one finds in mainstream entertainment instances of the trope. Sometimes the girl is related to one of the guys (Luke and Leia are siblings, as are Patrick and Sam in Perks). Oftentimes she is romantically involved with one of them (Ferris and Sloane, Anakin and Padme, Sam Neill and Laura Dern in Jurassic, etc.). Most crucially of all, she is not romantically involved with the other of the two guys, and even if she’s unrelated to both, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. When watching Sahara, there is no question in the characters’ nor the audience’s minds that Penelope Cruz is going to kiss Matthew McConaughey at the end of the movie. Steve Zahn is there to make us laugh; Cruz has no sexual interest in him and, in fact, says maybe ten words to him over the course of the entire story.

Leah talks to Brad more often in that within my stories, but while she is very affectionate, it’s clear she only has eyes for Cory (maybe something about his jackassery turns her on, or maybe Cory just looks and talks a lot like me). Aside from her romantic feelings for the “sidekick” of the two boys, her role as a friend to both of them is something of a mediator; being the girl, she is of course more mature and therefore more likely not to engage in any immature activity that the two boys might instigate. One sees this sort of behavior in Iron Man 2, for example: a drunken Tony Stark and an angry Rhodey duke it out in their super-suits while an irate Pepper Potts stands on the sidelines rolling her eyes.

But why is the golden trio such a common trope? A couple interesting theories I found online…

From Rocketman on superherohype.com: “You’ll see this trope mostly in fantasy and sci-fi because these genres aren’t as accessible and relatable to people since you’re dealing with far-out, abstract concepts, so you need a trinity of characters to bring things to a human level. And with fantasy and sci-fi, more often than not, more guys will be drawn to these genres than girls. Or, two-thirds of guys will be. In simpler terms, two guys and a girl. For every two guys in the theater, there will probably be one girl (one girl was dragged along with her boyfriend, while another guy is seeing it by himself).”

A concurrence from Gray_Walker on Reddit: “Marketing concerns. Three characters is a common number of focal characters for a story because it keeps the cast small and easy to keep track of. Male/Male/Female keeps the cast male-dominated, since the target demographic for these series is almost always male, but they don’t want to totally miss out on the female market, so the idea is to make one of the leads female so that demographic has something to identify with. When a group becomes female-dominated, it tends to indicate the series is targeted at women.”

This theory sounds plausible up until one realizes that Harry Potter, for example, appears to have a lot more female fans than male, despite the Male/Male/Female dynamic. If guys (supposedly) respond to this trope because there is one more male character to identify with than female, maybe girls respond to it (if they do) because it provides the one female character with two potential love interests? Ladies, tell me if I’m talking out of my ass here.

At any rate, the hole in the above marketing theory is maybe the only reason I let this mystical explanation catch and hold my attention…

From Brandon Bennett on Quora: “This dynamic is actually a secret symbolism of the Trinity of Consciousness. The older male = Thought Expression, the older female = Emotional Expression, and the young male = Action Expression. This character triad goes back much further than mainstream movies. It’s even in ancient religious scriptures from thousands of years ago.”

A couple interesting things to note here. One, there is a very limited number of plot and character types in the world. Even if Bennett’s explanation isn’t completely accurate (it might be), it stands to reason that every plot and character trope we can name has its roots in ancient literature. Two, the Trinity as he describes it here can easily be fit into, to use one ancient example, the Christian Trinity: God the Father (older male), Jesus Christ the Son (younger male), and the Holy Spirit (generally understood by Christians to be what nonbelievers would simply call one’s conscious or guilt, or, if you will, emotions, or at least the expression of certain emotions/feelings).

I guess what strikes me as funny about all this, the thing that set me off to write this entry in the first place, is that my three characters fit (more or less) into these categories, but I did not intend it to happen that way. I decided that Brad was a relatively calm, smart, reserved person (Thought Expression) but did not consciously decide that, as a result of this, Cory would need to be an energetic, foolish, outgoing person (Action Expression). This happened of its own accord.

Well, is this interesting only to me? Do you have a favorite character trope, specifically a favorite three-person character trope?

-

*Note that I am not including romance-centric movies in which this relationship is a love triangle. I am interested only in this dynamic insofar as it represents three friends; maybe two of them are lovers, but there is no central rivalry between the two guys over the one girl a la Twilight.

[morningcallsphotography]

Patrick's Point State Park Trinidad, CA NY -> CA (and back), 2021

Contact ©morningcallsphotography

[nursingwriter]

Geriatric Diagnosis The author of this report has been asked to assess the medical condition and prognosis for John Smith. John is a sixty-eight years old and has a pretty good array of medical problems. He has had psoriasis for more than a generation and the ointments he has been using to treat it have become ineffective. Beyond that, the psoriasis is spreading to parts of his body that have not been trouble areas before. His son Patrick asserts that he believes that the psoriasis is to the point that it is contagious. While John is facing some challenges, there are things that can be done and this includes properly education both John and Patrick. Straight off the top, the assertion by Patrick that the psoriasis is "contagious" is patently and absolutely false. Psoriasis is never contagious and there is not a chance that anyone around John will "catch" it. Further, the psoriasis is almost certainly being aggravated due to stress due to his new living situation. Indeed, him and his wife moving in with John's daughter Mary, son-in-law Patrick and their four children has surely put him on edge because there are many more people in and around him and kids tend to be loud and excitable. Further, if there is any fighting or discord in the house including between the kids, the parents (Patrick and Mary) or a combination of the two, then that is surely making things worse. If there is a part of the house that can be isolated (e.g. a mother-in-law suite, etc.) as a "quiet" area for John and his wife, that would surely help him be less stressed and his psoriasis would probably lessen as a result. Patrick curtailing the kids being loud and/or obnoxious would probably also help greatly. If the kids are excited and loud, they can go outside or go to the park or something like that. Given the above, the flare-up of the psoriasis is deemed to be stress-related per the primary diagnosis and the new living situation is surely the trigger unless there is another detail or happenstance that is not being mentioned here (WebMD, 2015). Before getting into the "meat" of the other things going on, there are a few housekeeping items that should be mentioned. First, it should be figured out if Smith has had the Pneumovax because he is certainly in the age group of people that should be having it. Pretty much anyone in their 60's should have it because getting pneumonia at his age could be lethal and this is even truer when taking into account that his lung has crackles in bases bilateral and wheezing with dyspnea with exertion. If John has not had a pneumonia vaccine, he should certainly have one. The same goes for the tetanus shot. If he has not had one in the last five to ten years, he should absolutely have one now. A flu vaccine for the current strain is also a must (WebMD, 2015). Now there will be a focus on the other things going on. There are three things in particular that stand out in the secondary diagnosis and the overall vital signs that need to be addressed as soon as possible. First, the blood pressure is a huge red flag. The diastolic number is actually not that bad, actually. A reading of 84 is in the pre-hypertension range. However, eighty and below would be normal so the 84 figure is not a huge cause for alarm. However, the systolic number is entirely too high. A reading of 154 is nearly state II hypertension. Whether it be stress from the new living situation or due to other lifestyle issues, that number needs to come down via medication and/or lifestyle adjustments including better eating, a quieter home environment and so forth. His pulse rate is 102. That is a smidge high as it is on the high end of the range of "normal" values. However, it could be much worse (WebMD, 2015). As for the secondary diagnoses, there are two in particular that are entirely fixable and they need to be fixed or John will die sooner rather than later. The fact that John has apparently been smoking for fifty to sixty years is a very bad thing. The amount of damage he has done to his body is probably monumental and his lung symptoms are probably due to the smoking. Beyond that, he drinks one to two glasses of whiskey a day. The whiskey is probably not a huge problem for him if that is truly what he drinks, although it would be better if he did wine or beer as those drinks have lower alcohol content. However, the smoking has absolutely go to go for John's days are numbered. There is a good chance they already are. The S3/S4 indicators are a sign of high blood pressure and/or heart disease and the smoking would aggravate both of those issues. There is a good chance that bad days are ahead for John as the dyspnea is a bad sign. It would commonly be associated with asthma, heart failure, COPD and other diseases that would probably ultimately be lethal. There is a chance John is not facing one of those disorders or diseases but it is a very bad sign. Much the same thing can be said of the bilateral crackles and it is much of the same diseases that are indicated. These disorders, as with the dyspnea, would include problems with the heart or the lungs (WebMD, 2015). John also has apparent issues with arthritis and such. That should be treated as well but it is far from being the major issue as his symptoms that point to heart and/or lung issues are more important and the psoriasis would seem to be the bigger problem as compared to the arthritis, at least for now. The use of the atenolol would indicate that he is being treated for the high blood pressure as it is a beta-blocker and it treats high blood pressure. His taking of simvastatin (aka Zocor) is also an indicator that there is a concern about heart blockages as the drug is a statin. This drug being taken, coupled with the symptoms above, make it pretty clear that prior professionals are very worried about his arteries and his heart and this is rightly so (WebMD, 2015). Given the above parameters and issues, here is a quick summary of what needs to happen. No matter how it happens, the smoking needs to stop and stop quickly. John can use nicotine patches and the like or he should at least try e-cigarettes due to the fact that the amount of chemicals and harmful substances is so much less, if not zero. Second, a second approach to couple with the beta-blocker might be called for given how high his blood pressure his. Other options include renin inhibitors and thiazide diuretics. However, the author of this report is fairly sure fixing the home environment would help the blood pressure a lot. As noted before, the diastolic number is pretty good but the systolic is nearing dangerous levels. Next, the drug list that John is taking would indicate that he is not being treated for arthritis. Given the amount of pain and exertion that would be involved as a result, this is probably something else that is stressing him. Thus, getting him on a medication that would help that would be a wise thing to do. All in all, the smoking and the calmness (or lack thereof) of the home environment are probably the two major things that should be addressed first. Even so, there is an extremely high likelihood that John will be entering a palliative care situation rather than actually fixing what is wrong with him. His symptoms tell a grim story and he is extremely lucky to be almost seeing his 70's given his lifestyle choices (WebMD, 2015). Conclusion John is getting hit by a proverbial double whammy when it comes to his health. Part of the problem is his excessively bad lifestyle choices over the years, his whiskey and smoking habits being the worst of the proverbial litter. However, his most recent challenges are surely a project of his new environment and perhaps his untreated arthritis as well, to a lesser degree. To be sure, it would be best to hit all of those at the same time and perhaps he could live another five to ten years. However, the overall likelihood that John will quit smoking is probably extremely slim and he is showing some very bad signs when it comes to heart and/or lung disorders. Even so, his pain and stress can be minimized and that should be the overall goal. References WebMD. (2015). Adult Vaccines TOC. WebMD. Retrieved 8 October 2015, from http://www.webmd.com/vaccines/default.htm WebMD. (2015). Causes of High Blood Pressure. WebMD. Retrieved 8 October 2015, from http://www.webmd.com/hypertension-high-blood-pressure/guide/blood-pressure-causes WebMD. (2015). Heart Disease Health Center. WebMD. Retrieved 8 October 2015, from http://www.webmd.com/heart-disease/default.htm WebMD. (2015). Lung Disease & Respiratory Health Health Center - Symptoms, Causes, Treatments. WebMD. Retrieved 8 October 2015, from http://www.webmd.com/lung/default.htm WebMD. (2015). Psoriasis-Topic Overview. WebMD. Retrieved 8 October 2015, from http://www.webmd.com/skin-problems-and-treatments/psoriasis/psoriasis-topic-overview Read the full article

[mexican-texican]

Day 4, 1.2 million still without power:

Centerpoint had fleets of technicians crowding parking lots on standby ready to go at a moments notice but weren't allowed to move until an agreement had been made on pay rate negotiations. They were still getting paid to sit there, though.

Greg Abbott continued on to his nine day tech mission across East Asia the Friday before Beryl hit, and claims to be going back and forth with local officials yet Biden stated he hadn't been able to reach neither Abbot nor Dan Patrick about providing aid and emergency generators.

Meanwhile, Dan Patrick is too busy on Twitter pointing fingers literally everywhere else to pick up the phone.

Ted Cruz had left to SoCal over the weekend for a whale watching excursion but came back the Monday after the storm had hit to make a video for Twitter of him standing next to a flooded freeway. Judging by the weather I'm assuming well into the evening.

Meanwhile our power outage numbers look like this:

And our homes are reaching dangerous levels of Satan's asshole hot.

People are scrambling to any grocery store with power that won't kick them out to charge their phones and laptops (I'm side-eyeing the fuck outta you Whole Foods, don't think I haven't heard about kicking people out of the designated sitting areas in several locations) and are struggling to get anything that doesn't require refrigeration to prepare for dinner by candlelight.

All the while lingering after storms keep reflooding areas that are struggling to eliminate floodwaters.

(that's not a river, that's a thousand foot long underpass)

Everyone on Reddit keeps going on about how ridiculous this whole situation is because it was barely a Cat 1, but people forget too easily that "When you've seen a hurricane..., you've seen a hurricane." They're not cut and press, there's no two alike. I mean fuck man, Alison wasn't even a category and yet was the costliest bitch of them all (the amount of people we lost and witness drown to death, get sucked into open manholes at piss poor attempts to relieve street flooding)

Yeah, Centerpoint-less is a monopoly of a power company that shouldn't be ALLOWED to exist as it is and that's its own issue (they're literally the only allowed electric provider down here) but we also have to take into account who is allowing them to continue this way, because Hurricane Beryl should not have been able to get as strong as it did as fast as it did This Early In The Season and this is just a taste of what we have in store this season.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 134 - Fall Football Preview

Read the rest here!

There is no I in team. This has been a partial list of Letters Not Found in the Word 'Team.' Welcome to Night Vale.

NV HS Scorpions kick off the varsity football season against last year's district champions, Red Mesa.

Nazr is not coaching this year, he's taking a sabbatical due to previous personal issues. Taking over in his place is Latrice Beaumont. She used to be a player herself and is the first Gemini ever hired as coach. She calls a conference to talk about her new strategy and changes to the game.

Players mentioned include; Junius Duncan who is 5'4'', 120lbs, has 8 legs, no arms, a thorax and can jump up to 20 times his height and Prince Reynolds who has hydraulic joints installed in his shoulders. There is also Timothy Llano, their offensive guard.

One of the changes is a crack down on endzone celebrations. District head of officiating Jake Kemp states that in his day everyone was more conservative and not selfishly making the game about them. He then blames Millenials for ruining everything. When it's pointed out that current high schoolers are not millenials and that he, at 33, is one, Kemp makes himself age to 93.

There is also a rule saying players must have two or fewer legs which means Junius can't play.

Red Mesa players mentioned are; Salam Talib and Trung Pham (who has 20 inch antlers).

Everyone in Pine Cliff is a ghost, which makes their defence really weak. Cecil makes a bad pun about them coming 'dead last' which his producer, Ian, dislikes because his mother was part of the Great Cataclysm of 2008 that resulted in the residents all becoming ghosts. Their running back is called Alfonso Menendez.

Cactus Park senior running back Patrick Lyle is being encouraged to hold the ball and not put it in his pocket.

DBToo now has a new team and wants to start playing again, although there are worries about crossing between the DOW and this one for other players, theoretical physicist Cedric Dumond from DB Junior College tells them they need to stop looking at the bad and think about the good instead. Their kicker is called Leonard Clayton.

The Whispering Forest is now an independent and ever growing township with it's own football team this year. Despite all of them being trees. They won't be able to do much but recruit the other team to their side by turning them into trees. Their team is the Wood Dogs.

Coach Beaumont's new strategy is 'surprise'. The team will play all 5 rival teams at once, in 5 minutes from her saying that. At first their chances of winning the game seem slim, then Beaumont gets Junius to stand on his back two legs and pretend the rest of his legs are arms, thus technically allowing him to play and win the game for them.

Weather: "Raising Helvetica" by Sims x Air Credits x ICETEP

Football games in NV start with the national anthem, the pledge of allegiance, the eldritch chant of national unity, the secret police helicopter flyover, and the pre-game Blood Stone Bacchanal Dance.

Cecil, Carlos, Abby, Steve and Janice all go and see the game.

The library is having a used book sale, which is a thinly veiled attempt at trapping people.

Traffic tells us about a woman called Lisa Farmer, who seems to be living a somewhat unfulfilled life.

Stay tuned next for "Gentle Takes": our political roundtable where the hosts listen to each other talk about their days while they knit and say 'thanks for sharing that with me.' Good night Night Vale. Good night. 

Proverb: "Dress for the job you want (sports team mascot) not the job you have (customer service manager)."

[swagrum76]

I once tried to write a book about Bill Nye the Science Guy turning evil and killing all of humanity. I even gave him a little backstory, and that backstory was basically that he worked for the Nazis in WW2, got shoved in front of a landmine, stayed at a doctors office for a few weeks due to ptsd, and then went home. (his home was ravaged by war so he checked the mailbox and there was a job application for an acting career in there.)

This is basically all I typed in it: [warning - mildly disturbing content. I wanted bill to gradually grow more and more insane until he snaps.]

­ The Billpocalypse

Chapter 1: Where It All Started Bill Nye served for Nazi Germany as a soldier during World War Two. He was often insulted and made fun of due to his clumsiness in the war, and as a result, someone named Carl decided to take advantage of that. Carl's plan took action on July, 6th, 1938, and he intentionally shoved Bill into a minefield during the German invasion of Poland. Surprisingly, the landmine did not blow any of Bill’s limbs apart, and he just was shoved up into the air like a ragdoll. He then fell onto the ground and his consciousness faded away. A few years after the incident, Bill regained his consciousness and woke up on a white hospital bed. After this happened, something snapped inside of him. He lived peacefully at the hospital until the war ended. After that period, Bill's main doctor, who was a stern German man named Patrick Robotnick, gave him one last psychological evaluation. It concluded, and Bill was allowed to go home. After 4 weeks of sitting in an airplane, he arrived at his brick house, but something was disturbingly wrong. All his family members were dead and his house was nothing but a pathetic little pile of rubble.He decided to at least check the red mailbox in front of his house to see if it had anything in it. To his surprise, it contained an envelope containing a white slip of paper. This white slip of paper contained a job offer that only required a five minute conversation. Having nothing to lose at this point, he said “that sounds like a great idea!” and took it. The job was for an acting position at a science tv show, and that show would be called Bill Nye the Science Guy. He ran as quickly as he could to talk to the location of his soon-to-be workplace, and he arrived at a parking lot next to a building which had an appearance similar to a Waffle House if it had red on it instead of yellow. He entered, chatted with the people there, and got the job.

Chapter 2 - Bill's First Work DayBill's first work day was hard. The pay was miserable and his boss constantly yelled at him all the time, even when he did nothing wrong. He worked at a boring old wooden desk and filed paperwork for 10 hours. It was weird. There was no stage, or any of that. Have I been given the wrong job?, Bill thought in frustration. After his shift ended, he asked his boss, who's name was Dave, for a raise. In response, Dave yelled at him with "Are you crazy or something??? You were a Nazi in World War Two! I ain't giving you shit!" Upon hearing this response, Bill Nye grabbed a red pen from the top of his desk, held it like a knife, and ran over to confront Dave. He then stated the following "Listen here sir, it's not right to judge someone based on their past! So you either give me a raise or die! Like my master in the war, I have a short fuse!". In response, Dave laughed at him and said "Are you seriously going to try to murder me with that pen? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Stupid Nazi scum!". Bill could hold his anger no longer. He punched Dave as hard as he could. Then he forcefully opened Dave's mouth and shoved the red pen deep inside his throat. Dave, of course, didn't like this very much, and he died from blood loss. A pool of crimson emerged from under Dave’s body, and got all over the tiled floor. Bill quickly fled the scene after this incident, and he would run deep into the woods, where he would find a old abandoned log cabin.

He stayed at said cabin for a few weeks and found a shotgun in a closet. But he had an unexpected guest after that time had ended, as he heard a loud knock at the door. This knock was scary for him, as he didn't expect any company since the cabin had been abandoned for so long. He cowered in a corner in fear after hearing the knocking. The wooden door flew off of the hinges and fell onto the floor, and a police officer and full riot gear appeared behind it. Bill loaded his gun and fired, but it was no use. The bullets just bounced off the transparent shield that the officer was holding.After this sight, Bill Nye was forcefully handcuffed and violently shoved into a police car. Then everything blacked out for him, as he was transferred to a concrete jail cell. Even the bars of the cell were made of concrete. When he awoke inside of his cell, he saw a buff man in an orange jumpsuit was in there with him. Bill didn’t know the man’s name, nor did he bother to ask, so he just referred to him as “Pablo”. Bill stayed in there for a few months, and voices were starting to speak to him within his head. He felt as if he was a fictional character, and that nothing he did mattered. This insanity, coupled with his time in the war and severe PTSD, led him to constantly punch the walls of the prison. His hands became wounded and bloody, but he didn’t stop punching. Eventually, Bill started punching Pable, but the guards didn’t do anything to stop them from fighting, as they couldn’t even get into the prison because the bars were made of concrete. Bill didn’t care how much pain Pablo was in, nor did he care that he was actively pleading for him to stop. A few minutes of nonstop punching later, Bill was satisfied with what he had done. Pablo was no more, and Pablo couldn’t bother him anymore. Bill then used his bare hands to tear out the arm bones of Pablo’s body. After that was done, Bill used his feet to set the bones in a corner and ripped the sheets off of his bed with his teeth. He had truly gone insane by this point, and to him, nothing was real anymore. With the bedsheets he had obtained earlier, he tied Pablo’s arm bones to each of his wrists via knots, and he began punching the walls again. Bill was actively looking for a way out of his cell, but he thought a weakness in the concrete itself would be the only way out. Unlike a sane person who would have been screaming in pain upon landing a punch on the walls of his cell, Bill was laughing like a madman each time he laid his fist upon the wall. Suddenly, after a few weeks of nonstop punching, Bill saw a crack in the wall appear, so he started kicking it, and then the wall itself crumbled into dust. It occurred so fast that to bystanders, it appeared that God himself erased a wall out of existence. Bill seized the opportunity and ran outside into the open air.

As he approached the streets in front of him, he noted now there were many other people near him. (the prison was near a busy city, ok?)

So he had the idea to run as fast as he could at anyone he laid his eyes on.

[morningcallsphotography]

Patrick's Point State Park Trinidad, CA NY -> CA (and back), 2021

Contact ©morningcallsphotography

[us-cj]

A tad turgid, but the point is clear: "Analogously large but previously unrecognized uncertainties must therefore exist in all the past and present air temperature projections and hindcasts of even advanced climate models. The unavoidable conclusion is that an anthropogenic air temperature signal cannot have been, nor presently can be, evidenced in climate observables."

Propagation of Error and the Reliability of Global Air Temperature Projections, Patrick Frank*, SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory, Stanford University, Menlo Park, CA, United States

#ClimateChange is not man made

https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/feart.2019.00223/full

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

A sex educator in Michigan refused to be shamed. Then came the backlash.

The Washington Post

By Greg Jaffe and Patrick Marley Aug. 23, 2023

Heather Alberda found her calling by speaking bluntly about sex in her conservative county.

As the sex educator for the county’s health department, Alberda, 46, developed programs to lower teen pregnancy and curb the spread of sexually transmitted infections. She spoke about sex and sexuality with a directness that was rare in her conservative county and sometimes got her into trouble.

...

Eight hard-line Republicans took their county board seats earlier this year, vowing to “thwart tyranny” and defend the constitution. On their first day in office, they fired several long-serving county staffers and set about making sweeping changes. Ottawa County quickly became a case study in what happens when county government is consumed by ideological battles over race, religion and American history.

Alberda had already endured months of scorn from the new commissioners, who had publicly accused her of promoting abortion and sexualizing children. What she’d been doing was her job, which required her to talk about birth control, sexually transmitted infections, abstinence and consent. She met with high school students, migrant farmworkers, teens in juvenile detention and people struggling with addiction.

In her 21 years at the health department, the county’s teen pregnancy rate had decreased by 76 percent and is the fourth-lowest among Michigan’s 83 counties. The abortion rate for Ottawa County during the same period fell by 18 percent, according to state data.

The county’s successes, though, were colliding with the fears of many Christian conservatives that they were losing the culture wars; that their faith and families were under siege. The new board members and their backers saw Pride flags — which had become a common sight in stores along Ottawa’s Lake Michigan shore — as markers of a society that they believed celebrated sex, promiscuity and perversion.

...

On the table next to the television sat a picture of Alberda’s three children, taken at a park about a mile from their house. She had given birth to Tyler, her eldest son, a few months after finishing high school when she was 17.

“No one knew I was pregnant until after I had graduated,” she said. “My parents didn’t want me to tell anybody.” Because she had sex out of wedlock, the elders at the church where her family worshiped told Alberda that she had to take part in a profession of faith ceremony before her son could be baptized. And so, one Sunday in 1994, about two weeks after Tyler was born, she stood in front of the congregation. The pews were packed. A relative videotaped it. “I do not want to make light of the fact of sin in your past life …” the pastor began. At the time, the pastor’s words and the ceremony, which wasn’t required of others seeking to baptize their children, didn’t stand out. But years later, after she’d graduated from college, found a job at the health department, and became certified as a sexuality educator, Alberda re-watched the tape. By this point, she’d met and married her husband; they were raising three children.

The pastor’s words, she said, sent a message that there was a hierarchy of sin, and that sexual sins, like hers, were “the most heinous.” That sense of shame permeated the county, where Alberda and her husband had spent their lives. It led parents and pastors to cede conversations about sex to popular culture and the increasingly ubiquitous porn industry, both of which “sexualized everything,” Alberda said. The unwillingness to talk about sex contributed to teen pregnancy and untreated sexually transmitted disease, she believed. Alberda understood the unease because she had felt it, too. She had started with the health department after college teaching prenatal classes to teen moms. When that program ended, her bosses asked her to give talks on birth control and bloodborne diseases.

“I never even said the word ‘vagina’ in my house probably, let alone in public in front of a bunch of strangers,” she said. But she found that most of the groups she spoke with were eager to talk and desperate for reassurance that their desires and problems were normal. What started as a job became a calling. Alberda trained through the University of Michigan’s Sexual Health Certificate Program, where she sometimes lectured.

Public school teachers invited her to speak with their students. She developed sex-ed programs for women in drug rehabilitation and inmates in the county jail. She spoke to uterine and cervical cancer survivors who were seeking alternatives to vaginal sex. Often, Alberda had groups write anonymous questions for her on scraps of paper, which she kept in a drawer in her desk. They asked her about pain during intercourse, penis size and consent. “If a guy presses me into sex and I say no five or six times and he starts touching me is that molestation?” read one question from a high school student. Alberda talked with the students about sexual consent and the importance of reporting abuse.

Gradually, she expanded the health department’s reach. She knew that young women in juvenile detention were at high risk for becoming pregnant in their teens. So she arranged for them to visit the health department and, with their parents’ permission, get birth control implants. She brought regular testing for sexually transmitted diseases to migrant farmworker camps, homeless shelters and Grand Valley State University.

In 2014, she started a program to distribute free packages of condoms and lube to liquor stores, bars, bowling alleys and tattoo parlors throughout the county. Sometimes her work provoked resistance. She put a container of condoms in the courthouse office where people who had recently been released from prison met with their probation officers. Alberda reasoned that the former inmates were more likely to engage in risky sexual behavior. The courthouse’s chief judge thought the condoms would encourage people to have more sex and demanded their removal.

Alberda’s condom program, which she called Wear One, became a model, expanding to more than 50 Michigan counties. Even as teen pregnancy and abortion rates have fallen, the county hasn’t been able to reduce infection rates from sexually transmitted disease, which have risen statewide. Alberda often reminded her bosses that changing sexual behavior took time, persistence and a willingness to set aside the shame that inhibited frank conversations about sex. She didn’t realize that other forces were reshaping the way people in the county talked about sexual health and sin. The biggest driver was Ottawa Impact, a political group that formed in 2021 and pledged to field county board candidates who would govern according to conservative Christian principles. The group’s leaders drew inspiration from Matthew Trewhella, a Wisconsin-based pastor who preaches a version of Christianity that focuses on using politics and the law to purify the community of evildoers and sin. Trewhella and the leaders of Ottawa Impact didn’t respond to requests for comment.

Full story here:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/interactive/2023/michigan-sex-educator-culture-wars/

___________________________

Comments:

Heather Alberda, I am so sorry these traumatic events happened to you. Please know that there are people who believe that teaching about sexuality and sexual health is important. Thank you for your hard work. Have faith that the people you taught won't forget the lessons. Their lives are better because of you. Take care of your own physical and mental health until you feel ready to do good work again. Until then, "don't let the bastards grind you down."

This is why we all need to vote. Every election, every time. Even for the small local positions. If you don't, people like this get voted in by a small minded minority.

Teens who get pregnant or who impregnate are teens who weren't given the tools - knowledge, and confidence - to prevent it. Ms. Alberda, you WERE meant to do the work you did so well.

So much deliberate embracing of narrow-minded hatred. And they are so, so far off the mark about who poses a threat to their children.

It makes me sad.

Tragically, the children and grandchildren of these conservative religious individuals are learning from the media that teen sex is a right of passage, without realizing how to protect themselves physically and emotionally. Heather Alberda knows Knowledge is Power. Bless her for caring!

___________________________

Confronting Christian Nationalism

[dream-diary-of-a-random-person]

How do I Name This One? - 7/28/23

I had a lot of dreams last night that I remember small fragments of.

1. I was in the lobby of a Great Wolf Lodge (which was very spacious and had a high ceiling). The place was super empty, one on desk worker and a group of about 6 people (all one family) who were checking in. Someone was with me. I commented on how empty the place was, to which they said it wasn't. We debated a bit, before we both gave up and the other person began to tell me about stories when they worked at a hotel. I began to eat some fries from a cardboard container. I held the container sideways and had put some ketchup on the top part of the opening, which made it kind of hard to get a fry without touching the ketchup with my fingers.

Notes 1: - That was not what a real Great Wolf Lodge lobby looks like. - The fries were crinkle-cut and could have used more salt.

2. I can barely remember this one, but I'm pretty sure I had a dream where Doodlebob was learning how to drive a car. Patrick and Plankton were there, as well as Spongebob, but I can't remember much of it. At one point when Doodle was parking the car, it rolled back a couple of feel. Spongebob drew a line behind the back wheels with red paint.

Notes 2: - I believe this dream took place after the next one (3).

3. I had a dream were me and some friends went to a McDonald's. One of them was going to pay for our meals. I just wanted some fries, but it turns out they were all out. I was then debating getting ice cream, but they had a TON of flavors with enticing names that didn't describe the flavors. We ended up getting to the front of the line (where we were to pick up our order) and they also had different colored cones. I decided not to get any ice cream.

Notes 3: - Some of the ice cream names were day/night themed. - All of the ice cream looked to be berry/fruit flavored. - Only one or two of the friends were people I know irl.

4. I was in some gymnasium type place with I believe padded flooring? The lights were dim and there was a video being projected on one of the walls. There were other people in there, all of which were either laying down, doing their own thing, or watching the video. No one was talking. I decided to experiment with how flexible I am. I ended up being able to curl my back in a way that let me put my feet on the floor in front of my shoulders as I laid down on my stomach. I also did something with my arm, but I don't remember what, and even had trouble remembering in the dream.

Notes 4: - I have no idea if I can do that in real life or not. My guess is no since I've had no flexibility training.

5. I was in some building that was possibly a school? I was looking around and ended up opening a door that lead to a hallway, as well as some other buildings (more like an alleyway, I guess?). Some of these buildings were dark and kind of drawn-looking. Outside were a few creatures, some shadow beings, some just off-looking. All were humanoid. I talked to them a bit, and one tried to attack me. I yoinked their weapon and threw it inside the building I came from. I continued to explore the alley after, going into some buildings here and there. Most of them seemed to be abandoned/in a state of disrepair.

I wound up leaving that area, and ended up finding some aura nodes (from the Minecraft mod Thaumcraft 4) as well as a vortex which appeared to be stable. I had a staff with me now, which I was about to charge when the vortex began to show some signs of instability. I used warded glass to protect the nearby nodes, and flew off to look through my book to figure out what I needed to stabilize the vortex. Some eldritch guardians began to spawn close to the vortex, which alarmed me a bit. I ended up rearranging my inventory to make sure I had the necessities in my hotbar. Before I could do anything about what was happening, the ground suddenly began to be covered in lava. Luckily for me I was in creative mode, and had been hanging out in a tree. The eldritch guardians died and I ended up winging it when it came to making sure the vortex was stable. I places the blocks that I (hopefully) needed to in the right spots, and it seemed to work fine. I then flew off to try and get back home.

I landed in a place I thought was close to my home, but it turns out it wasn't. I began to look at some spots around the area, and marked one for me to come back to an forage. A few other people showed up and one guy began to tell me about some of these plants and fruits that were around. One was a large yellow fruit that grew in clusters. The outer texture of it was bumpy in a lined kind of way (like the outside of a pumpkin, but even thinner segments). I forget the name, but it had "sour" in it. I planned to get some seeds from it and grow a few in the future. There was also a plant that grew black-colored berries, which looked like a combination of elderberries and wild grapes. I never figured out if they were edible or not.

Notes 5: -I think this dream took place after the previous dream (4). - Eldritch Guardians in Thaumcraft scare me even in creative mode. - I almost always play Minecraft in creative. - I had found a knife at some point but forget when. It was during the search of those buildings. I didn't have it afterwards.

6. I was at school. Turns out the school was a mix of humans as well as some of the animatronics from Five Nights at Freddy's (though they looked like cartoons). I talked to a few of them for a moment (I believe Bonnie and Chica) before me and a friend left the classroom and headed outside. Despite it being a highschool setting, it was apparently recess time (though in the dream, I felt unsure when calling it that). Me and the friend walked and talked a bit. I believe we were on a paved area that turned into a grassy one. At one point someone somehow managed to put a mask on my face. I took it off after a moment and looked around for who did it, but didn't find anyone else close enough. It was a Sun mask. My friend ended up trying it on as well.

Notes 6: - In the dream I was wearing fuzzy pajama pants as well as a hoodie. My hood was up outside. - I do own that pair of pants in real life. They're black with white stars on them. Very comfy. - The "friend" of mine is someone I don't really know. They were tall and kinda lanky. I think they had a dull green jacket on and had dark hair.

7. Bug death mention.

I was in my room. I had woken up at night and there were some bugs that had gotten in. One was a large moth that I was able to catch inside to small plastic boxes. I also caught a Japanese beetle, which I crushed by accident when I caught the moth. When I went to put the moth outside, it had become a butterfly with black wings that had yellow spots. I released it, only to find out I had accidentally decapitated it when I caught it. I felt bad about it, but decided I could keep the wings. The body had landed on the porch outside, which now had some ice and snow on it. I carefully picked up the body, but the legs and wings still twitched and moved every now and then. This freaked me out a little since the butterfly should have been dead by this point. I returned to my room and found a large wasp-beetle like bug on a wall as well as a smaller brown/tan/beige butterfly, which seemed to still be inflating its wings.

Notes 7: - The type of butterfly I had caught was one I've seen in real life. - Before I fell asleep I remembered a fly I had killed by accident. I think this may have been a guilt dream.

[dailyrugbytoday]

2023 Super Rugby Pacific quarterfinals: Blues face to NSW Waratahs in Eden Park

New Post has been published on https://thedailyrugby.com/2023-super-rugby-pacific-quarterfinals-blues-face-to-nsw-waratahs-in-eden-park/

The Daily Rugby

https://thedailyrugby.com/2023-super-rugby-pacific-quarterfinals-blues-face-to-nsw-waratahs-in-eden-park/

2023 Super Rugby Pacific quarterfinals: Blues face to NSW Waratahs in Eden Park

The Waratahs must now pick themselves up in preparation for Friday’s quarterfinal matchup at Eden Park against the Blues. Following is the Super Rugby Pacific quarter-final draw after the final round of the regular season concluded on Saturday:

Here’s how to watch the 2023 Blues vs NSW Waratahs broadcast on thedailyrugby.com.

Super Rugby quarterfinals

Friday, June 9

Eden Park, Auckland (kickoff 7.35 pm local, 0735 GMT)

Auckland Blues vs New South Wales Waratahs | Blues vs NSW Waratahs

Best Streaming options to Watch Super Rugby Pacific quarterfinals 2023

Prior to the Super Rugby Pacific quarterfinals, the Blues were dealt a severe blow when it became known that Patrick Tuipulotu would miss the remainder of the competition due to a fractured arm.

At Eden Park on Friday, the Blues defeated the Highlanders 16-9 before the All Blacks second row suffered an injury.

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The 30-year-old participated in all 80 minutes of the game and scored the game’s only try, although he was later placed in a cast.

On Friday, the Waratahs will visit the Auckland team at Eden Park for the first Super Rugby Pacific quarterfinal.

Tuipulotu’s injury was confirmed by Blues head coach Leon MacDonald on Monday, and he estimated a six-week recovery time.

According to MacDonald, “It’s brutally demoralizing [for him].”

He missed last year because he was in Japan, and he was quite eager to wear a Blues jersey this time around.

He is a crucial member of our team, and I thought he was really starting to find his stride with his form and leadership.

Coach of the NSW Waratahs Darren Coleman called the team’s performance “shit” and said he was “embarrassed” by the club’s sluggish 33-24 loss to Moana Pasifika on Saturday.

It was difficult to witness for the 19,219 spectators who had traveled to Allianz Stadium for Michael Hooper’s final game in Sydney because it was Moana’s lone victory of the Super Rugby Pacific season. Super Rugby quarter finals 2023 fixtures

The ACT Brumbies and Queensland Reds also qualified for the quarter-finals with the Western Force and Melbourne Rebels missing out.

SUPER RUGBY PACIFIC QUARTER-FINALS

Friday 5.35pm AEST: Blues (3) vs Waratahs (6) in Auckland

Saturday 2.35pm AEST: Chiefs (1) vs Reds (8) in Hamilton

Saturday 5.05pm AEST: Crusaders (2) vs Drua (7) in Christchurch

Saturday 7.35pm AEST: Brumbies (4) vs Hurricanes (5) in Canberra

‘Hungry’ Blues prepare for a semifinal matchup with NSW Waratahs

The team had faith that they might generate greater unity and discipline while playing the NSW Waratahs in the DHL Super Rugby Pacific’s first quarterfinal on Friday in Auckland because of a hunger for victory that wasn’t always present with Blues teams from the previous ten years.

Coach Leon MacDonald stated that as the Blues prepared for their quarterfinal, the game served as a reminder of the need of maintaining discipline.

The Highlanders managed to stay in the game despite not having enough possession to concern the Blues, and the Blues’ errors and infractions made it easier for them, showing the repercussions of failing on that front.

The Highlanders’ desire to play uglily and avoid the 60-point beating they received in the first round of play infuriated the Blues, and the third-quarter scrum fest that followed sapped the sting and shape from their performance.

“We ended up stumbling home,” one of our guys said. “Our guys looked frustrated and probably started to lose patience on attack.”

He claimed that while a victory was a victory, the most crucial factor was that they had achieved during a season of the year when victory was everything.

The first period demonstrated the Blues’ potential.