#we should do that again. make a hotline like for Jason

[zorilleerrant]

to be fair, tho. many Wonder Woman writers make her entire story about a man. like. many

[pagesfromthevoid]

hello i just wanna say i love your writing so much AND A FUCKING DUCK CHAPTER 10 IS THE CUTEST THING I'VE EVER READ OMG😭 my stomach was fr hurting from all of the fluff

A Fucking Duck | a.c. | 11

Adrian Chase x Bat!fem!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language. References to sex.

Author’s Note: I did something with characters here. I hope you enjoy it! We’re getting close to the end…👀

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me! | Buy me a coffee?

“Thank you for calling the abandoned siblings hotline, how can I direct your call?”

“Dick, you don’t need to be a fucking —“

“Dick?” He laughed, and she knew he was throwing his head back as he did so.

“God, I hate you so much.”

“Then why’d you call?” He inquired. She heard his boots against the coffee table.

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag, slipping out of her apartment door. Adrian had told her he was getting drunk at Smith’s, so she figured she should go check on the two fools. Smith was already a wanted man again, he didn’t need to take Adrian down with him further. And besides, the asshole was growing on her.

She huffed in frustration and a bit of embarrassment. “I just…I don’t know. I wanted to tell you about Adrian and shit.”

“You and the bus boy still together, huh? I’m surprised Bruce hasn’t shut that down.”

“Bruce can’t do shit about my personal life. I’m a grown woman.”

He scoffed. “You know he doesn’t care about that. So what’s the deal with you and the bus boy?”

Dick could be trusted with secrets. He always was, truthfully. Between him and Jason, both men were her secret keepers when they were growing up. Crushes, sneaking out, or skipping school. Even when things began to get more complicated, he knew she was training with Bruce —just like he was.

“He’s uh,” she paused, considering if she really wanted to tell him. “It’s complicated but not really. I don’t know how to explain it.”

But the truth was that if Dick didn’t already know that Adrian was Vigilante, he would find out soon. Bruce had to know already; he knew everyone’s secret identities. It was…terrifying, honestly. Bruce knew way too much at all times; the paranoid bastard.

“Listen, if you’re gonna tell me your boyfriend is Vigilante —I know.”

Fucking called it.

“Bruce told you?”

“Damian ran a background check on him and we saw he was arrested recently —hacked some of the computers, saw the fight, put two and two together.”

“I have a copy of that security feed on my —wait, why did Damian run a background check on him?”

“Because you’re his sister and he’s annoyingly paranoid?” Dick offered as an explanation. “You do know he’s absolutely out of his fucking mind, right?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, nodding as she slid into her car. “I mean, same.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay, well, maybe he’s crazy,” she admitted with a shrug. “But he’s hot, and he loves me, and he eats pussy like a fucking champ so —“

“First of all, how dare you make me picture that. That’s so gross,” Dick groaned, gagging into the phone. “Second of all, did you just say love?”

“I did.” She grinned to herself, starting the car. “I told him I loved him on accident but yeah, he loves me and that’s…I don’t know. That’s fucking cool, I guess.”

“Bruce is gonna be so mad,” Dick laughed again, wholeheartedly and genuine. “Good for you, sis. Found someone to match your crazy.”

“Bruce can fuck off,” she reminded him but she was laughing too. Her phone rang, Adrian’s name popping up over her call. “Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll text you, okay?”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She rolled her eyes and hung up, answering it with the smile still on her face. “Hey, what’s up pretty boy?”

“What questions should we ask Goff?” He asked, tone hushed. “Be quick so Chris doesn’t get mad.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re asking Goff the butterfly questions —“

“Why the fuck do you have Goff —“

“It’s not important, we need to question them —“

“Adrian.”

“Ducky.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, dropping her phone into her lap and hitting the speaker button. “I’m on my way over —“

“Wait, no, go to the video store! We’re gonna head there after this.”

“Adrian —“

“Gotta go, love you!”

The line went dead and she stared out her windshield for a moment. The feeling of Adrian saying he loved her again —though he’d said it plenty the other night —washed over her like a wave of calm. But it was clashing with her frustration that the two had a fucking butterfly. Her hands slammed against her steering wheel as she screamed in frustration.

She peeled out of the apartment complex, high tailing it to their headquarters.

*****

“You looked more pissed than usual,” Economos pointed out as he looked up from his laptop.

“I’m dating a very pretty idiot,” she offered as a simple explanation. “Who isn’t even here yet.”

Harcourt was about respond when Smith and Adrian burst through the door. Harcourt gave them both a dirty look as Murn demanded, “You know anything about that diary they found today?”

“Fuck no, I don’t use a diary,” Smith snapped back. “We have bigger problems —“

“Yeah, we know. You’re a wanted man,” she scolded, crossing her arms over her chest.

Smith gave her a weird look, as if he didn’t recognize her out of uniform. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Goff got out.”

“Yeah, he possessed that Asian cop,” Adrian added.

“Oh my god —“ She started, but Harcourt cut her off.

“You kept Goff?” She demanded.

“Don’t you fucking start with me,” Smith snapped at Harcourt. “I don’t trust any of you fucks. I needed answers.”

“Goddammit, Peacemaker!” Murn snapped back.

“Oh no, you don’t get to talk to me like I’m the problem when you sent Pennywise the fucking clown to help us!” They all gave Smith a weird look, glancing back at Murn at various times. “He fucking executed three cops —one was unconscious when he did it!”

“Murn, what the fuck?” She demanded. Smith looked at her, and she frowned. “Who is this guy you fucking planted?”

Suddenly, Economos raised his hand. “Uh…I think I found something,” he announced. Adrian stepped behind him and she squeezed in, looking over Economos shoulder. “I think I know where the raw amber fluid is coming from.”

Economos continued to explain how he used security feeds to follow the route of the truck backwards until he pieced it all together. About an hour outside of Evergreen was a small ranch, and that’s where the butterflies were going every three days.

“There’s no way the stuffs coming from that barn alone; not with the amount of vats we found,” she pointed out, looking up at Murn.

“Butterflies burrow. Just like at the Goff residence; just like at Glan Tai. We destroy their food source, we destroy the butterflies.”

“What? How the fuck do you know that’ll work?” Smith demanded.

“He’s got a good point,” she offered, standing up straight to look at Murn. “We don’t know that for sure.”

There was a look shared between Adebayo, him and Harcourt; one that she’d seen before but never cared enough to call out. That was how these missions ran; someone always knew more than the rest. It’s just how it was. But something felt off.

“What the fuck is going on? You know, there’s something weird going on and you think me, Crossfire and Vigilante are too stupid to notice —

“Oh I noticed. I just didn’t give a shit,” she quickly offered, smiling insincerely.

Adrian was too busy playing with Eagly to even respond, trying to get the bird to mimic him. Smith glanced between the two of them.

“Oh so you got 66% right but you know what happens when you score a 66? You still get an F —“

“You get a D —“

Murn and Smith stared each other down for a long time, with Smith slowly but surely getting angrier.

“We have reason to believe they have a cow. An animal they milk for the goo. It’s too big for there to be more than one, so that’s their main food source,” Adebayo explained, though she kept her eyes down as she did so.

Smith gave her a dirty look next. “When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?”

“I’m gonna reiterate that I genuinely I didn’t give a shit —“

“We know, Crossfire! You don’t want to be here!” Murn yelled at her suddenly. She looked at him, frowning deeply now as she was about to snap back. “Everyone finish up what you’re doing. We’re leaving at dawn for the ranch.”

Murn stormed out, and the remainder of the team sat in silence as Smith demanded why everyone else knew but they didn’t. He was making a good point; it was seven of them against an alien invasion. That all would have been great Information a few days prior but she also just knew how these teams worked. Smith, however, didn’t.

And she understood his frustrations as everyone wrapped up what they were doing for the night. By the time the Sun had finally set, it was just three of them and Harcourt. Smith had stepped out to bother her, while Adrian and her sat in the back of the store, watching the news.

“You think we’re gonna make it out alive?“ He asked casually, eyes glued to the TV.

She hummed some, shrugging. “Truthfully, no. Maybe you, me and Chris but the rest of the team? Training or not, it’s easier to assume the worst.”

“Wanna take bets on who dies?”

She gave him a weird look, shaking her head. “What? No, Adrian that’s awful. They’re still people; they’re even kinda our friends.”

Kinda was a weird statement, since right now it didn’t feel like any of them were friends. But still. Her point stood.

“Oh. True.”

“During a search of Smith’s home, a diary was found that was written by the suspect,” Locke started to explain. Her attention snapped to the TV but Adrian was already on his feet, heading to Smith.

“Hey, what the fuck. I thought you said you didn’t write a diary,” he announced. She was close on his heels, looking at Smith who seemed confused.

Something was wrong.

Smith followed her and Adrian back, where the TV still played. “The diary states that the world is inhabited by aliens; and it is his job to eliminate them. This diary links Christopher Smith directly to the murders of Annie Sturphausen and the murders of Senator Goff and his family. There are potentially thirty-three other victims from the Glan Tai massacre as well. Rest assured, we will bring him into custody and he will face the penalty of the law. Every police station across the country has been given the same mandate: find and stop the Peacemaker.”

“What the fuck?” Smith suddenly said, before storming out of the room and locking himself in the bathroom.

Adrian and her stood there, watching as the news switched over to the weather. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as they waited for Smith to come out but he didn’t.

“Someone planted that diary,” she finally concluded, turning the TV off. “Chris is stupid but there’s no way —“

“You’re calling him Chris,” Adrian interrupted, looking down at her. “You never call him by his first name.”

“What? Adrian, that’s not all that important. He’s being framed —“

“He’s growing on you, isn’t he? I knew you’d be friends.”

She shook her head, running a hand over her hair for a second. “Dude, now is really not the time for this.”

Adrian simply shrugged, going now to knock on the door of the bathroom. “Dude? Are you okay in there? Hey,” he kept knocking as she leaned against the doorframe of the office room. “Dude, hello?”

The door suddenly opened and Smith stormed out, looking at the TV. “We need to get the fuck outta here. That guy is supposed to be watching our backs; clearly he’s not.”

“Is he a bird?” Adrian asked, frowning.

She pushed off the door, arms crossed. “A bird?”

“Like Goff.”

Smith looked at her now then back at Adrian with a look of annoyance. “Goff is a butterfly.”

“Butterflies are a type of bird,” Adrian explained.

“They’re a bug,” she countered, but Smith was storming off again in anger. She followed suit as Adrian tried arguing that birds and butterflies were the same.

“Where the fuck is Judomaster?” Smith demanded as he opened another door.

“Oh shit, was Judomaster supposed to be here?”

“That’s going to bite us in the ass,” she sighed.

“Fuck it. Not our problem,” Smith announced, gathering his helmets and the duffel bag. “Adebayo must have planted that stupid diary when she came over. I knew I couldn’t trust these people.”

“Why would Adebayo do that?” Adrian asked, frowning deeply.

“Why would she convince you to get arrested?” She offered as a counter, taking her suit out of her bag. Then, without thinking too much about it, she slipped off her shirt.

“Babe, now isn’t really the time —“

“I’m not stripping for you, Adrian. I’m changing into my fucking uniform —“

“But like, you’re naked and that’s great but we’re working —“

She rolled her eyes, kicking off her jeans before pulling her suit on over her legs. Smith stared for a moment but returned his attention to his helmets, explaining he wouldn’t keep a diary anyway; he’d keep a journal. Adrian held out her mask to him, and a hand gun now. She took both, holstering the gun where she usually kept her crossbow. Smith continued to bitch about the diary.

“I would read anything you wrote. I bet you could do some bomb poetry,” Adrian concluded as Smith kept packing.

Economos burst through the door. “Dude I thought you said you didn’t write a diary!”

“I didn’t! Did you see that thing? It looked like it fell out of my vagina.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I feel like I need to be offended —“

“Shut up. Do I look like the type of person who stays up and collages fucking stickers of Jupiter and shit?”

She hummed. “First impressions tell me no.”

Economos nodded in agreement, pointing at her as he said, “But now that I know you, kind of actually,”

Smith shook his head. “Okay, fuck it. If I enjoyed it, I wouldn’t let anyones judgements hold me back. I’d collage all sorts of shit.”

“Are we gonna take back that vagina comment now or —“

“That’s cool,” Economos offered awkwardly.

“I’d make a collage of all of us doing beer bongs and banging chicks with dolphins around us,” Adrian offered as the three heroes grabbed their things and started to leave. She smacked his arm. “Okay, ow, I’d make a collage of them fucking chicks and me fucking you.”

“That’s somehow so much worse.”

“I don’t want dolphins watching me fuck,” Economos added, making a face. “Where are you going?”

“We might as well kill this fucking cow before they find us,” Smith explained, loading his gun.

“We are? Cool!” Adrian exclaimed, grabbing his mask.

She shrugged and placed her own over her face as Smith walked off, carrying his weapons. Adrian followed behind as she turned to Economos.

“You coming?” She asked.

“No?”

She shrugged and walked out, letting Eagly out before her. Economos cussed angrily and ran after them, loading into the truck.

“This is gonna be so bad ass,” Adrian announced, placing his stuff into the back of the truck.

“Hey, can’t you call the Justice League or Batman or some shit?” Chris asked as he loaded into the back of the truck.

She climbed into the truck behind him. “That means calling Batman or my ex, and neither of those options are fun.”

“Wait, whose your ex?” Adrian asked, looking at her in surprise.

She made a face. “Flash.”

“No shit!” Economos laughed, looking at her in surprise.

“I heard he’s the fastest man alive —like, in every way,” Smith chimed in, touching his wrist like a watch was there then making a jacking off motion.

“That can’t be true —“ Economos started but she laughed.

“Oh, no. That’s actually super true.”

Adrian looked at her with surprise, “So like. I definitely last longer, right?”

“Gross dude,” Smith groaned.

“This is super important!” Adrian responded, hitting Smith in the arm and focusing his attention on her.

She nodded as she settled into her seat. “Believe me, you last way longer, pretty boy.”

“Fuck yeah I do!”

Adrian put his hand up, and they highfived, laughing as they did so.

From the front seat, Economos mumbled, “I can’t believe you chose Vigilante over the Flash.”

———

Series Masterlist

———

Taglist: @ladybug023 @pedropascalfanclub @se-fucking-hun @chelseaxteens @sannie-san-shine @notalxx @tubble-wubble @inmate-marmalade @fanofverymanythings @truly-abysmal @dallasvakarian @why-so-red @rexorangecouny @asherella-is-a-dork-3 @speedypeter @droopingdatura @maybememoriesx @mushroomsandcream @caswinchester2000 @alexloveskili @are-y0u-sirius @themartiansdaughter @sevenseasofcats

[hangovercurse]

Don’t Be Sorry

In which Y/N’s past catches up to her... and Colson

Reader x Colson Baker

Warnings: Abuse (Graphic), cursing, violence.

A/N: Seriously, it gets detailed. If you are uncomfortable with domestic abuse/ violence then this is not the fic for you. If you are a victim of abuse, there are resources available for you. The National Domestic Violence Support Hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). 

Word Count: 2352

masterlist

“To good music and good friends” Colson shouted over the noise of the crowd. The group raised their glasses in a toast before downing the shot. “Now let’s fuckin party!” 

It was your first time out in a while. You liked to pretend it was because you were too busy. I have a job outside of writing music with you, you would always remind the older boy. But truthfully, you weren’t as attached to the party scene as your friends and did whatever you could to avoid them. 

But when Colson asked, well begged, you to go out with them to celebrate finishing Hotel Diablo you couldn’t say no. Colson’s face when you said yes almost made you excited. Almost.

But now on the crowded rooftop of a club you’d never been to in an outfit that was all too tight and all too short, you wished you’d made up an excuse to stay home. Luckily your friends made you forget your unease. 

“Y/N, watch me drink both of these beers in 10 seconds!” Rook shouted, holding two bottles in his hands. You laughed, shaking your head slightly at his antics and pulling out your phone to time him. 

“Ok, go.” You said as he brought the bottles up to his mouth, chugging both in an astounding 9.75 seconds. “Dude that’s insane.” You showed him the timer and he cheered, dragging you to the bar. 

“I’m getting you a drink, whaddyu want?” Rook asked as he waved down the bartender. “Rum and coke?” He questioned, knowing your order by heart at this point.

“How’d you guess.” You asked with a smile on your face. 

“It’s a talent.” Rook laughed, arms flailing as he bowed dramatically. 

The pair of you got your drinks and returned to your group in the middle of the dance floor. When you got back Slim dramatically held out his hand for you to dance with him, and you guys jumped around to the music. 

The drink in your veins made you a little more comfortable. it wasn’t enough to get you into any trouble, just enough to loosen you up for a good time. As the group laughed at AJ’s terrible dance moves, you felt a chill come over the room. 

As the rest of your friends smiled and laughed, you looked around the dance floor, trying to find anything, or anyone, out of place. Unfortunately for you, you were much shorter than the men around you, so you couldn’t see much. 

Colson noticed you weren’t really with the group, and he followed your gaze around the room, leaning in close to you. “Everything ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just have this weird feeling.” 

He laughed, “drink too much?” 

You gave him a pointed look and then chuckled to signify you were joking. “No, I just, I don’t know how to explain it. I just have a bad feeling about something.” 

“Ok, well just don’t leave my side. I’ll keep you safe.” He winked at you and you rolled your eyes, but you appreciated the sincerity in his statement. 

Colson and you had been friends for years, but after your last relationship ended... roughly (to put it nicely), he let you stay at his place for a while until you got back on your feet. Since then you’d gotten closer to the tattooed man and come to trust him implicitly. 

You refocused on your friends, watching Pete and Baze racing pints of beers, with Baze winning (for obvious reasons). You laughed as Pete hung his head in shame. He scrunched his nose at you. “I don’t see you chugging anything.” 

This only made you laugh harder, “I don’t think what you were doing is considered “chugging.”” You made air quotes as he put on a mock hurt expression. 

“Y/N’s up next!” Slim shouted and your eyes went wide. 

“Oh hell no, man. I leave that shit up to you guys.” You smiled as he shook his head profusely. 

“Nope, you gotta do it. Rook’s already getting the beer.”

You hung your head, knowing there was no arguing with Slim. “Fine, but I’m gonna lose and then I’m gonna be mad. So if I’m mad, its your fault.” You shook your head as the boys howled. 

Rook came back with two beers in his hand, handing you one. “I’ll give you a head start.” Slim smiled.

“Fuck no, man.” You said before bringing the beer to your lips, chugging the drink. Slim was taken off guard and ended up starting a few seconds after you, which was all the advantage you needed. 

You raised your hands in victory as AJ picked you up in celebration, the boys cheering for you as Slim hung his head. Once you landed back on your feet, Rook threw his arm around your shoulders, “Y/N is the fuckin bomb.” 

You loved this feeling, you loved being surrounded by your friends who loved you. You giggled as he leaned into you, making you stumble under his weight. 

“Oh look, Y/Ns surrounded by all her little man-whores.” His voice sobered you up instantly and made every bone in your body tense up. You looked up to Colson for support, but he was already focused on the man behind you. 

“Not even gonna look at me, damn. You’re really that much of a bitch, huh? Not even gonna say hi?” His voice was like poison in your veins. Every word he spoke reminded you of the last time you saw him. You subconsciously reached up to your neck, rubbing your throat.

“Get the fuck away from her dude.” Colson said shortly. You tried to catch his eye. You wanted to beg him not to make a scene, to just take your hand and leave. But it was too late for that. 

“And who the fuck are you?” Jason, your ex-boyfriend, moved towards Colson and into your view. You flashed back to the night in his living room, his back facing you just like it was now, before he turned around and-

Luckily, Rook’s hand squeezing your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to look at him, his head cocked and his eyes questioning. You simply shook your head at him. You looked back to Colson who was seething. You caught Pete’s eye behind him and mouthed, we need to leave.

Pete nodded, grabbing Colson’s arm lightly, but the blond only shook off his friends grasp. 

“Hey, there’s this really cool music store down the street that’s still open, we should go check it out.” AJ said, his eyes trained on you. Thank god for AJ.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” Pete said, “Colson let’s go check it out.” 

You could see Jason’s face change when he figured out who the blond man was. “Yeah, Colson, why don’t you take your bitch and get out of here.”

“Don’t fucking call her that.” Colson moved closer to him and your eyes widened in fear. 

“What? A bitch? That’s what she is, a slutty fucking bitch.” With every word, Jason moved closer to your friend until the two men were almost touching. Tears stung your eyes as you flashed back again. 

“You stupid fucking whore. Who the fuck do you think you are? Fucking around with some asshole rapper! Did you forget you fucking belong to me?”

His words still rang in your mind. You could feel your body begin to shut down, your lungs gasping for breath just like they had that day. 

You were brought back to reality by the screams of protest as Colson pushed your ex-boyfriend away from him, causing Jason’s fist to make contact with Colson’s jaw. 

“You think you can get away with making me look like an idiot? I’m your fucking boyfriend, not him.”

Jason’s fist made contact with your left cheek and your knees failed to hold you up. The man caught you before you hit the ground, leaning forward to pin you against the wall behind you. 

“Y/N, c’mon, let’s go.” Rook’s arm fell to the small of your back as he escorted you through the crowd, Slim following you. You made your way down the stairs, the two boys helping to support your weight. 

“I’m gonna make you remember who you belong to.” 

Jason pinned your arms above your head as he pressed you further into the wall. His free hand made its way up your chest to your throat. His soft grasp turned into a squeeze around your neck. 

“Jason please-”

You tried to talk, but few words could come out. You struggled for air as his eyes grew darker and darker. 

“You think you can go and fuck around with whoever you want, don’t you?”

You shook your head, but he continued.

“You’re a goddamn slut, and you need to learn your lesson.” 

Your vision began to blur.

“Y/N, you okay?” You came back to reality to find yourself in the alley between the club and the neighboring building. Slim was standing in front of you, Rook to your side as you leaned against the wall behind you. 

You shook your head in response and he let out a sigh. Suddenly the door slammed open and you flinched at the noise. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

You kneed Jason as a last resort before you lost consciousness, and now you were running through the house. You ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and pulling your phone from your pocket, not even noticing the new crack in the screen. You searched for the first name you could think of.

“Colson?”

“Colson, take a breath, man!” AJ yelled as he followed the tall blond man outside. 

Colson was pacing a few feet away from you as you tried to focus on breathing, your hand subconsciously reaching for your neck again, as if you were trying to pry his invisible hand off of you. 

Pete moved in front of you, taking in your state of fear. Other than Colson, Pete was the only one who had any idea about your ex. He didn’t know the whole story, only that it ended violently. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, keeping his distance as he leaned against the other wall across from you. 

You sniffled and wiped your face, nodding quickly as you realized most of your friends- save for Baze and Colson- were watching you. “Sorry guys- he’s just an ex. He’s kind of an asshole.” 

“Really kid? We couldn’t tell.” AJ tried to joke, and you cracked a small smile, trying to convince them you were ok. 

Your breathing started to slow, and you felt yourself coming down from your panicked state, until you caught Colson’s fist making contact with the wall of the club.  

“Open this fucking door bitch!”

Jason’s fists beat against the door- the only thing standing between you and him.

“He’s gonna kill me Cols. I’m so scared.”

Your sobs rang through the phone as the banging intensified. 

“He can’t save you now, bitch! Not such a big man now, are ya? Colson!”

“Colson!” Baze berated the blond man, who recoiled in pain. “Get your shit together, bro.” He said, quieter.

Colson looked up at his friend and then past him to meet your eyes. His blue orbs softened at the tears in yours. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, walking over to you. 

He leaned forward against the wall you already occupied, his arms above your head as his head drooped down to watch you. You looked up at him, your hand reaching up to touch his face where Jason had made contact. 

He flinched when your skin met his, causing you to jerk your hand back, afraid he would yell at you for hurting him. 

“It’s okay, I was just surprised is all.” He whispered before grabbing your hand and bringing it back up to his chin. You ran your fingers over the forming bruise lightly, another tear falling from your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t think he’d- I didn’t know...” You trailed off, looking down and dropping your hand from Colson’s face. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He moved one hand to gently tilt your face up, leaning down to be closer to you, “Look at me. This was not your fault. Okay? You don’t need to be sorry for anything, babe. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I just- if I hadn’t called you that night-”

“You wouldn’t be here. Y/N if you hadn’t called me you could’ve been seriously hurt. He could’ve killed you.” 

You took a shaky breath in, sniffling. Colson sniffled too. “Y/N, this is nothing, okay? I would take a thousand more punches like this if it means that douchebag never comes near you again. I mean it. Don’t blame yourself for this, okay?” You nod, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck as you bury your head into his shoulder, your nose pressed against his neck. 

His arms wrapped around you and you could hear his sniffles in your ear as his lips pressed against your hair. “Thank you.” You mumble into his neck, pressing your lips against the hot skin. 

“Hey! Get the fuck out of here! This isn’t some fucking party you can photograph. Fuck off with your cameras!” Pete yelled, causing you to release Colson and look towards the commotion. You briefly see a figure in the distance before a white flash blinds you. 

“Fuckin paps.” Colson whispered, his arms still wrapped around your waist. 

“Let’s get outta here, guys.” Slim says, leading everyone back into the club to leave through the back door. Colson interlocked your hand with his as you stepped into the building, keeping you as close to him as possible as you squeezed your way through the crowd. 

Once you loaded yourselves into the van, you leaned your head on Colson’s shoulder, your hands still interlocked. “Can I stay at yours tonight?” You asked in a whisper. Colson simply pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand leaving yours to wrap around you and pull you closer to him.  

[leo-gold-hotchner]

Running Duo -2

Never intended to write a second part but I got several encouraging compliments so here’s the second and last part. Sorry I can’t tag you as I don’t know how to find you as I’m not yet familiar with tumblr system…

I deliberately limited description, though it might not be good, bollocks… I think I forgot how to write a long long text on tumblr… how odd.. i tried to make break between sections but whenever i edit the breaks are gone after I post. so sadly i used ----- 

Warning: Blood, UnSub Hotch, Death

Word Count: 1645

Running Duo - 1

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster.”

“Nietzsche.” Aaron said, without looking up from his newspaper. “Gideon used to say that.”

You hummed as you thought of the veteran profiler, a straw for your milkshake still in your mouth. You never met Jason Gideon, one of the famous FBI agents in history. But you’ve heard enough of Gideon and knew Aaron studied under Gideon and Rossi since he joined the BAU.

“They’ll catch up to us soon.” He looked up from the grey paper, glancing at the muted television in the corner. The news once again was showing you and Aaron’s photos, the BAU hotline on the bottom. “The news is all about us, and I believe even a child will remember our faces with such drilling.”

It was groom news, but the former agent was enjoying this sickening hide-and-seek as much as you were.

After you met Aaron, both of you had been on killing spree, never resting a day without killing someone. You were predators, and it was easy to find preys. It was as if you two had radars to spot your preys.

“We already knew our fates,” you shrugged nonchalantly. Then spit the straw and rolled on to your belly, pillowing on the Aaron’s leg. “What do you want to do before they catch you?” Aaron raised his brows with a teasing smile. He looked down at you and brushed your hair lightly with his fingers.

Both you and Aaron never did try to hide evidence and crimes. They were already on your tails and knew who you were. Why put any effort to hide the murders? You two just left all of your DNA traces everywhere as if to taunt them. The two of you even left a video camera for the BAU, Aaron leaving a rather happy greeting message to his former team. He was no longer the man BAU knew, he was a killer, craving for blood, just like you.

------

They were on you tails now. They were just right behind you and you two will be caught in any days. But that didn’t stop you from finding your preys.

You were passing through a small town after killing an abusive man. You two laughed and called it pure luck when you killed the guy who happened to hoard sunglasses. Both of you wore sunglasses, laughing like two silly teenagers. With sunglasses, at least you will be less recognisable.

You were driving the stolen red SUV and Aaron watched the scenery hooded in darkness. It was your choice to get a striking red coloured SUV. Aaron protested about the colour being too bright for his liking, but you didn’t care one bit. Red was one of your favourite colours, and driving a red SUV had been on your bucket list since young.

Aaron suddenly asked you to pull over, and you stopped the SUV. Before you could even ask, Aaron got off from the car and entered a small but serene building. You frown at the sign saying ‘church’, but you eventually followed him into the building, muttering even a church should be locked at night.

No one was inside of the building except him. He was standing tall, but his back seemed to be so smaller in the church.

“Didn’t know you were a Christian.” You asked quietly as you move closely to him. Feeling a bit uncomfortable standing in the sanctuary with sins you committed. You never had a religion, but it still was uncomfortable as if the church knew what you’ve done. It felt like the eyes of saints were crawling on your skin.

“I’m not,” Aaron muttered, “are you?”

“Nope,” you shook head. “Never had religion.”

The duo stood there quietly, a cloak of silence surrounding them.

“My parents were.” Aaron said, breaking the silence. “All my family was good people. My parents, Sean, Haley, Jack. I want to see them again, but I will never be with them with everything I’ve done.” While saying his part, he never looked at you. He only stared at the large crucifix in the middle of the hall.

“Here to ask forgiveness?” You ask harshly than you intended. You felt a bit of betrayal. You and him never planned to become partners in crime, but you two were together in this now. You’d never regret your choice of becoming a murderer from law keeper, you never intended to ask forgiveness for what you’ve done in the past months. “I thought you’d never regret what you chose.”

“I don’t,” he finally looked at your eyes. “But I’ll never forgive myself for not being a good man for them.” His usual passionate brown eyes were dead, surrounded by a storm of sorrow and sadness.

“It’s a different story, you know Theseus killed villains and gained a hero title.”

“That’s what, millennia ago?” Aaron snorted.

“I’m just saying there might be people who think you’re their hero.” You stood next to him, closing your eyes. “The history will always remember us as blood lust killers, but to some, we’ll be heroes.” You remember one of the interviewees from news, the young man told you two were hero to him because he was helpless with an abusive father and the law wouldn’t do anything for him.

“That doesn’t change we broke the law.”

So that was Aaron’s dilemma. He wanted to keep the law, keep people safe from harm, but he turned into a law-breaking blood thirsty beast who he used to find and catch.

“It doesn’t,” you gave him a small smile, looking directly at his darkened pupils. “But you at least thought once that the law is unfair.”

“The law is made to be fair to everyone.”

“I know but we both also know the system doesn’t work like that too.” You quietly wrapped your fingers around his. “Do you want to stop?”

He stared at you intensely. As you quietly returned his stare, passion slowly lit in his eyes once again. You smile at him. “Any last wish, Agent?” You ask him mischievously.

“For one, I want to see my BAU family, you?”

“Same,” you shrugged. “But, unlike you, they aren’t federal, so I’ll never see them again.”

“I’ll be there with you till end.” Aaron tightened his grip on your hand.

“I know,” you smiled back at him broadly, not fearing you’ll be alone again. You won’t be alone again this time.

------

It only took two days when they finally caught up to you after the night at the church. Aaron was driving when the familiar siren rang behind them. He glanced at you and you just shrugged.

This was the day.

Despite how you resigned your fate, your heart was skipping incredibly fast.

It was infutile to run away, and Aaron knew what you were thinking. He slowly pulled the SUV, but didn’t step out.

“So, they’re here,” you said slowly, watching the side-mirror where armed agents closing up.

“Morgan,” Aaron smiled rather proudly. His eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror as several black SUVs and police cars approach them from behind.

Agent Morgan pointed his gun towards them, his face stoic and professional. Aaron opened the window a little and fine breeze entered, calming your heart.

“Derek,” Aaron greeted the agent friendly.

“Show me your hands, and step out slowly.” The agent didn’t return the greet.

“I was hoping to see more of you.” Aaron ignored Morgan. “Ah, there they are,” his face broke into a happy smile as if he was back to being Agent Hotchner with the BAU.

You sighed as you see more agents surrounding the SUV, police officers waiting behind the cars with their guns waiting. You wondered if the BAU agents asked the officers to wait where they were. Perhaps they thought they could persuade you.

You once worked with the BAU while you were still in the force. As the agents walk into your view, you could recognise a few faces, though you couldn’t recall their names.

“Dave, Emily, Spencer, JJ,” Aaron listed the names of the agents and paused as he saw a face he never thought he’d see again, “Jason.”

Unlike other agents, Jason Gideon wasn’t pointing his gun at you two, but only watching you blankly. But you could see sadness in the older man’s eyes.

“Aaron, F/N step out from the car,” Rossi called out to you calmly. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” Aaron called out, then he faced you. “You sure?”

“You promised me you’d be next to me till end, and you’re here, Aaron.” For the last time, you looked around the agents. Just like you predicted, your former family wasn’t here. But that made easier. It would’ve been hard to leave in front of them, them watching you leaving as a murderer.

“But, are you sure?”

“I failed them.” He shrugged. “At least I don’t want my blood on their hands.”

“Alright,” you replied. Even with everything, you were calm now, strangely peaceful.

“Thank you, Aaron, you made my last day.”

“Thank you, F/N.”

------

In horror, the BAU watched Hotch and L/N pulled their respective trigger towards each other. The blood splattered and they couldn’t see the inside of the car due to the red liquid mercilessly painting the inside of the windows. The silence filled the area, only hearing wind howling ominously.

Reid trembled down on his knees.

JJ’s hands shook uncontrollably.

Prentiss clenched her teeth tightly.

Morgan clenched his fists.

Rossi and Gideon sighed deeply. They already knew this. They knew Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t want to live once they caught up to him. Gideon stood next to his old friend who was staring at the bloodied car and shocked teammates.

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” Rossi sighed heavily.

“Yes, I saw them smiling at each other.”

[alexthepartyman]

Fine Line

Chapter Six: I’m hopeless, I’m broken.

“Yeah?” Uncle Jason asks as Penelope comes in. 

“Thank you for the flowers. I know I can be challenging, but your work is appreciated. J. Gideon. I appreciate the appreciation.” I look to Jason with confusion. He didn’t get her those flowers...what? Who’s posing as Jason? “And btw, you’re not challenging. Well, no, you’re totally challenging, but you’re not challenging at all in a bad way. Sir.” She turns around and looks at the framed photos. “Hey, is this your family?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” 

“Nice. Hi, Jamie. How are you doing? You finally got off your crutches?”

“Working on it.” 

“Thanks again for the flowers. Hey.”

“Hey…”

“What the hell does btw mean?”

“By the way. Internet shorthand.” 

“You sent Garcia flowers?”

“No. You need something?”

“Missing child in Wilmington, Delaware.”

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

“Eleven year old Billie Copeland was last seen on the playground at four-thirty yesterday afternoon.”

“Isn’t there a thing that says we get notified immediately? Why wasn’t this reported sooner?” I ask.

“Yes, the Child Abduction Response Plan. What happened?”

“Well, there was reason to believe she was with her father. Her cell phone shows a call to him around the time of her disappearance.” 

“So they’ve since ruled him out?”

“He called the mother about an hour ago,” JJ answers. 

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t involved.” 

“He’s on his way to the family home, so you can talk to him there. The local police are now considering this a stranger abduction.” 

“Twenty hours later?”

“Long term stranger abductions of children Billie’s age are rare. They represent only half of one percent of all missing cases per year. But they are usually more likely to be fatal. Of the children that are abducted and murdered, forty-four percent die within the first hour. From that point forward, their odds of survival greatly decrease. Seventy-five percent are gone after three hours. Virtually all of them are dead after twenty-four.” 

“We’ve got four hours, then.” 

“Shall we go?”

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

“She’s been missing twenty-one hours.” 

“You should have let Derek drive, we’d have gotten here in fifteen minutes,” I remark. 

“We’re gonna go meet with the lead detective at the park where the girl was last seen.” Aaron drives away.

“We need to know everything that’s being done,” Jason says.

“I’ll find out what the press is running, see if I know any of them. We may need to manage what they put out. Jamie, be careful to stay away from the media, they’ll have a field day if they find out about you.” 

“Good. See what the uniforms know from the canvasses. Elle, I need you to be a liaison with the family.” 

“A liaison?”

“In a child abduction, the parents are likely to break down if we aren’t careful.” I move alongside them towards the house. 

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

“We’re looking for a male in his mid to late thirties who drives a late-model green SUV. If anybody has seen anything suspicious, we have a hotline set up at the Wilmington Police Department. Billie Copeland is an eleven year old girl. The last time she was seen, she was in a blue track suit and a blue soccer uniform.” 

Mrs Copeland sniffs, turning off the TV. “They’ve been running that over and over again for the past two hours,” she says. 

“They just want to help find her, and running it over and over again, it may get to somebody who wasn’t watching before, somebody who might know something,” I explain, letting my arm shake. 

“The press wants to talk to me. I just...I don’t think I can face it.” 

“It’s best you follow our guidance.” 

“Why don’t you just tell us what happened?” Elle asks. 

“Um...I was focused on practice, and...Billie was...being a pain, as usual, she was giving me attitude. So I told her to run it off. I sent her away.” 

“That’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have known. Focusing on what we can’t control...that’s only going to make you feel worse. What’s done was done.” 

“How long have you been divorced?” Elle asks.

“Um...it’s been final for six months, but we haven’t lived together in over a year.” 

“Are you seeing anyone?”

She laughs, “Between work and Billie, when would I have the time?”

“Not one date? Any men coming over to the house?”

“I-I had a few casual dates after work, but they never came to the house. Billie still hopes that her father and I will get back together.” 

“How did Billie’s dog die, Mrs Copeland?” Uncle Jason asks.

“Uh...it was hit by a car two weeks ago. How did you know that?”

“Shrine in the room. Helps her grieve?”

“Her father did that for her.”

“They get along well?”

“Best of friends. She calls him every night, tells him about her day, asks about his. He’s a cancer survivor, so he takes time off from work, pulls her out of school for father/daughter field trips. Says we all need to stop and enjoy life. But he forgets that he has responsibilities, they both do, which makes me the bad guy. And she blames me for the divorce. Blames me for everything...I shoulld have just let her go with her father. I’m sorry.” She gets up off the couch and storms away from us.

“She’s pretty fragile.” 

“The last thing she did was fight with her daughter. Can you imagine what that feels like?”

“Pretty terrible. Lost Jamie once, I had to rescue him.” 

“I thought that was Eddie.” 

“He was there.” 

“Elle, I was seven,” I tell her. Tires screech from outside. 

“Mr Copeland’s here.” 

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

“I have been calling you all night!”

“I’m sorry, Marilyn, I turned my phone off.” 

“How could you turn your phone off? What if Billie got sick or…we needed you.” 

“I said I was sorry!” Mr Copeland walks back to us in frustration. “What’s being done to find my daughter?”

“We’re assessing that right now.”

“She’s been missing since yesterday! What the hell have you people been doing since then?!” 

“Where have you been, Mr Copeland?” I ask.

“Me?”

“Where were you all day and all night?”

“I have a cabin in Brandywine Valley.”

“Police tried you there.” 

“Well, maybe I was out at the time.” 

“Bille tried your cell phone yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, I shut it off sometimes. I like the solitude.” 

“You didn’t fight your wife for custody of your daughter,” Jason adds. “But you...you like being in her life.” 

“I want her to grow up in her home with her friends around. This is the only place she’s ever lived.” 

“So you love her very much.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you waste any precious time we have left? You weren’t at your cabin. You weren’t at work or with friends. Police didn’t call us until a little while ago because they though your daughter might have been with you?” I look to Mr Copeland, whose face screams disbelief. “That you might have taken your daughter. Until you can give us a satisfactory accounting of your whereabouts from the time your daughter went missing until -” Jason gets up and puts his face in his hands. “Would you help me understand why a devoted father who talks to his daughter every night suddenly turns off his phone, disappears for almost twenty-four hours?” 

“I was...busy.”

“Not good enough,” I remark.

“It’s one thirty. You called your wife at eleven thirty, found out Billie was missing.”

“So?”

“Well, Brandywine Valley’s fifteen minutes away. Where were you, Mr Copeland?”

“I…I was at Sloane Kettering Hospital. In New York City. Dr Baylan Mahal is the head of oncology. You can call him if you want.”

“I will.”

“How long?” I ask.

“What?”

“How long do you have?” I ask. “It’s an inference. You mentioned oncology...only viable answer, your cancer came back.” 

“It’s in my lymph nodes now. You wouldn’t know what those are.”

“Immune system glands. Mine are messed up, too. Can they do anything more?” I take a seat in front of him, on the ottoman. 

“No. Please, find my daughter. Find my daughter.”

“Of course.” He puts his head in his hands and cries. 

“Call Sloane Kettering.” 

I look back as Jason leaves, Elle stands, and I extend a hand out to hold Mr Copeland’s shoulder. 

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

“You took all the police off the street?”

“We believe your daughter was abducted by someone in the area, and that she’s probably still nearby.”

“Then shouldn’t you be flooding the area with cops, knocking on doors?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is.” Mr Copeland pops his medication, and I pop mine, too.

“Youre taking the meds again.”

“Look...what exactly are you people doing to help get my daughter back?”

“You’re sick again, aren’t you?”

“We want you to meet with the press...both of you.”

“Elle…” 

“Press conference. That’s what you have? You just said you’re already taking the press that’s running off the air.”

“I know. But this will be different. Trust us, Mr Copeland.” The doorbell rings. 

“I’ll get it. Just tell Marilyn what you need us to do.” Elle sticks her hand out towards me, jarring me from gettin up and following him. 

“That was his second remission.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Billie won’t even talk to me anymore. How am I gonna tell her that her father’s sick again?”

“One thing at a time, Mrs Copeland. Once we find your daughter, you’ll figure it out.”

“Can I help you?” 

“Mr Copeland, I’m Helen Godfrey from a few blocks away. I have printouts of all the sex offenders in the area. I think if you just...look at any of these…”

“What the hell?” Elle asks, heading out of the house. I get up and grab my crutches to see Mr Copeland running to his car with a paper in his hand. “Mr Copeland?” 

“I’m really sorry,” I quickly apologise, walking out the front door.

“Mr Copeland!” Tires screech as the yellow truck pulls out of the driveway and heads off. 

“There are sex offenders in the area. I thought he should know.”

“Stupid,” Elle remarks, ripping her phone open. 

“Ma’am, I’d highly recommend leaving that to law enforcement,” I quickly advise, following after Elle. 

“Hotch, we have a problem.” 

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

“Mr Jones isn’t interested in pressing charges,” Aaron says. 

“Am I supposed to be grateful? The bastard’s a pedophile.”

“Not all sex offenders are pedophiles,” I cut it. 

“Did you check up on him? Did you ever search his house>” 

“He solicited a prostitute. Nothing with kids.” 

“But he’s registered on-”

“Mr Copeland, please. There are at least a million different ways to get on that list.”

“That’s why accessing that type of information is supposed to be left up to law enforcement.” 

“We understand your frustration and your anger, but you’re jeopardising our efforts to save your daughter’s life. Every minute spent chasing you is time we’re not spending on Billie. So either get control of yourself and follow our directions or stay out of our way.” 

“What would you like us to do?”

“Make a public appeal for information regarding a witness driving a dark green SUV.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be the suspect?”

“Yes. But when people hear suspect, they can’t see the guy next door as a monster. They can’t imagine their neighbour doing something like that, because that’s not how they know them. If they’re a witness, they might be a hero.”

“Okay, but what if he thinks it’s a trick? What if he panics or thinks or it’s too risky, and then he-”

“You’re not just speaking to him. You’re talking to his neighbours, as well. Anyone who knows him.”

“We’ve done everything we can to relieve the pressure on this man. We’ve taken the cops off the street. You won’t have any standing with you on the dais. Only a local minister.”

“Hearing he isn’t a suspect might calm him down as well,” Aaron adds. “Right now he’s under enormous stress. And we need him to believe, even if it’s just for a little while, that we’re way off the mark, that we’re not close to arresting him.”

“Are you? Close to arresting him?”

“We need the public’s help.” 

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

“If you keep looking at me like that, they’ll definitely notice,” I scold Derek. 

“I’m not too sure you should be off your crutches.” 

“How am I gonna be able to walk without them if I don’t try? Besides, it’s not like I’m going that far.” 

“Okay, come on.”

“Here they come.”

“Would you close the door? Thank you,” I hear JJ say from the stage. “Okay, can I have everyon’s attention? Please, if you could just take your seats...the Copeland family is here to make an appeal. As you all know, their eleven year old daughter Billie is missing. So if ou could just have a little compassion and patience. Mr Copeland.” I poke my head around the corner to watch the scene unfold with my own eyes. Mr Copeland sets up to the podium with his wife and the minister.

“Yesterday…” he clears his throat. I gently nod. “Yesterday, at approximately three pm, my daughter...our daughter…” The minster holds her hand. “Belinda Copeland. Billie. Went missing from the recreation center. We are looking for a man, a witness, in a green SUV. There have been some reports that he is a suspect, but that was a mistake. He’s not suspected of anything. We would like this man to come forward and tell us what he knows. We need your help. He may not even understand how important what he saw is. So anyone with information about this individual or his green SUV, please call the tip hotline. Thank you.” I smile up at him and give him a thumbs up. 

“Mr Copeland! Mr Copeland!” 

“We’d like Billie to come home now. It’ll be dark soon. Thank you.” 

“So the body located by police earlier today is not Billie’s?” My heart sinks to the floor, rage filling me, hot and deep. What the fuck? There was a body? There was a body? How did he even find out?! 

“What?” 

“The female body -”

“There’ll be no more questions. Thank you.” 

“What body?” 

“This press conference is over. Let’s discuss this outside.” I dart along the walls and find myself at the door out of the room, ripping it open for the couple to walk through. 

“What body?” 

“Come on, Mr Copeland. There’ll be no more questions. That’ll be all for now.” I look towards the cameras and the reporters. 

“Press conference is over,” JJ repeats. 

“Mr Copeland!” 

“What about Billie?” I look at the flashing photo lights and blink, closing the door behind the minister, and JJ goes up to one of the reporters. 

“Is that your idea of compassion?”

“I only asked a question. You’re the ones who didn’t tell the parents-”

“Because we weren’t sure. Raising and destroying hopes with inconclusive information is dangerous,” I cut in. 

“James.” I groan at JJ. “A positive identification hasn’t been made. Asking them about that was out of line, Hal.” She shuts up and drags me out. 

“Is there a body?!” 

“Please just come with me,” Elle begs. 

“Tell me right now, did you find a body?” 

“Mrs Copeland-”

“Did you find Billie? Is my daughter dead?” She asks. I reach up and let her lean on me. 

“A body was discovered,” Aaron answers.”

“It’s not Billie. The body that was found was much older, looked like it had been there for days. Looks like maybe a junkie or an overdose.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I saw the body myself. It’s not your daughter.” 

“My god, I can’t...I can’t…” 

“Please, just come with me right now,” Elle says, leading Mrs Copeland away as she cries. Mr Copeland follows them. 

“What the hell was that all about?”

“A reporter asked them about the body.” 

“Probably heard it on the scanner.” 

“I should have prepared them for that.” 

“We don’t have anything to tell them yet,” Jason argues. 

“Billie’s running out of time.”

“And so are the parents.” 

“Come on. A little hope, huh? We’ll make it, we’ll make it.”

“James, you’re not allowed to go up to reporters.” JJ scolds me as we follow Jason out.

“JJ, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. We have to be careful what we tell the media, or else we could get Billie killed.” 

“I know, JJ.”

“We haven’t even properly discussed what’s going to happen if they catch wind of who you are-”

“Minor consultant, working under SSA Jason Gideon of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Tell them that.” 

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

“How’s it going?”

“The unsub’s in here somewhere.”

“If you can’t find sex offenders with green suvs, try anybody with green suvs.” 

“You gotta bet that the police talked to them in their initial canvass.” 

“Maybe not. Our unsub is a solitary individual. He isn’t the type of guy to insert himself into an investigation. Wouldn’t it make more sense that he wouldn’t have answered the door during the initial canvass?” 

“Neighbourhood was crawling with cops, canine units, search and rescues. Make him nervous and jumpy, he’d want to avoid them at all costs.” 

“Yeah, you could easily just pretend you aren’t home,” I add. 

“So then he couldn’t allow anyone into his home to ask routine questions, even if the girl was bound or gagged because it’d be too risky.”

“It’s next to impossible to control breathing, speech patterns, body language when the body’s under extreme duress. Maybe if we compare hotline tips with anyone who wasn’t at home during the initial canvass.” 

“Or didn’t answer the door.” 

“We’ll find our unsub.” 

“Let’s get to it. Jamie, here you go,” Aaron hands me a pile of files from Spencer’s work area. “Green SUVs, in the area.” 

“Got it.” 

“Sergeant.”

“Yeah?”

“Here’s what we need. Everything that come in here…”

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

“Yeah. It was worth a try. That’s right. Thank you.” Derek hangs up the phone. “Nothing.” 

“Agent Morgan?”

“Yeah?” 

“This the kind of thing you’re looking for?” 

“What is it?” I ask, pushing the chair out to get up. 

“Uh-uh. Crutches.” Derek scolds me, and I groan and set them up. “Reid.”

“A Mr Lomax has a neighbour with a green SUV, but he hasn’t seen him all day. Says that’s unusual. Thought he might have been out of town, but now he sees some lights on over there.” 

“1106 Springfield. Where’s our canvass sheets?” I grab them from a nearby table. “1106.”

“1100 block. 1106...no answer.”

“Let’s go talk with Mr Lomax. Nice call.” 

“Thanks. Good luck.” I look up at Spencer as we head out. 

“I am definitely not using these come Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Why then?” Spencer asks.

“That’s when school starts up again, and I’m headed back on A/B weeks for the month.” 

“You should use your crutches for as long as you’ve been told to. You know, the correct way of getting off of your crutches is to go to physical and occupational therapy.” 

“Oh, come on. These things are annoying! I’ve been going since it happened!”

“Actually, it’s been one month and twenty days since your accident, and you started going to physical and occupational therapy a week after it, so you’ve been going for one month and thirteen days.” 

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

“Mr Lomax?” Derek asks as we approach a man aggressively raking leaves in his yard. “Agent Morgan. Agent Reid. James Rossi. FBI.” The two men beside me pull out their badges, and I pull out mine that granted me access to the buildings. 

“Holy smokes, that was fast!”

“Did you call in a tip about your neighbour, Don Curtis?”

“Lives down the street. I saw the news thing, you know?”

“Yep. Green SUV?” I ask, spotting the car.

“Yeah. I was thinking...Don drives a dark green explorer, and he’s at the park all the time. I figured, like they said on the television, maybe he knows something but he doesn’t know that he knows it.” Or he’s our unsub, and he definitely knows he is. “Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, we do.” I look back towards the man. “Where’s his explorer now?”

“It’s usually in the driveway, but I haven’t seen it today. Haven’t seen Don either, which is kind of weird. We’re always out front talking about the lawns. He never has any crab grass.” I don’t know what that is, so. “I don’t know how he does it.” 

“Do you know if he has a dog?”

“Used to. A big golden retriever. Her name was Candy. I think she died like six months ago.” 

“Thanks, Mr Lomax,” I say, as we turn to walk away. 

“Yeah, Hotch. Morgan. Better get over here right now.” I swing myself forward, starting the walk down to the house. 

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

“Third house down on the right. We knocked on the door, but nobody’s answering.” 

“His neighbour said he’s definitely there.” 

“He’s got a green ford explorer in the garage.”

“Break down the door,” Jason suggests.

“No. We don’t have probable cause.” 

“You don’t think owning a vehicle that was used to kidnap a child is probable cause enough?” I ask the detective. “He’s got a green SUV, dog that died recently, spends time at the park.” 

“Pretending he’s not home.”

“None of which are illegal. No judge is going to sign a warrant based on that information.” 

“You’re weighing the life of a child against the price of a door?”

“I’m weighing the law against the price of a door.” 

“The girl’s in the house right now. The longer we stand here and wait, the longer he has to finish her off.” 

“I’ll call a judge. If we go in there without a warrant, all that evidence will get thrown-”

“No time!” I yell, bouncing up and down.

“We’re aware of the rules of evidence. What do you propose that we do?” 

“JASON!” I yell, throwing my crcutches off and running after the old man as he dashes to the house. 

“JAMIE!” 

“Gideon! Gideon, wait a minute!” Derek yells. “Gideon, Gideon, you need -” He gets cut off by the sound of glass, Jason hits the window with a potted plant, shattering it and climbing through the window. 

“FEDERAL AGENTS, FBI!” Derek shouts, kicking the door open and wielding his gun. I follow after everyone else, dashing down the hall after Jason, but stopping before rounding a corner. I pop my head out, spotting the open door at the end of the hall. Jason heads towards it, and I pull my pocketknife out of my bag and unfold it, preparing myself to attack. Derek rounds the corner with his gun in front. I pull back as Jason screams, a man walking out of one of the rooms. 

“Where is she?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hear a gun cocking.

“Where’s Billie Copeland?” 

“Please don’t hurt me.” 

“Gideon…”

“Please! Please put the gun down.” 

“Gideon!”

“Get him out of here!” 

“Let’s go. Let’s go.”

“TEAR THE PLACE APART!”

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

“Just as we expected, he has an extensive collective of deviant photos and cartoon downloads.”

“Partitioned in separate folders?”

“Yep.” 

“Access the internet history. Identify any pornographic sites, shut them down.” 

“We’re uploading to Garcia as we speak.” 

“What is this? Is it all porn?”

“It’s a lot of home movies with a bunch of kids in it. This one, you need to see it.” I keep my head down as the tape starts to play. 

“Ssssshh. Remember what I’ll do if you tell.” I shiver at the sound of the voice. 

“Gideon, we searched the entire house. Upstairs, downstairs. Everywhere. There’s no sign of the girl or that she’s even been here. It is possible that he moved her. Polly Klaas was found twenty-five miles from home. Danielle Van Damme, thirty, Samantha Runnion, fifty-two. But keep in mind...we were twenty hours late getting involved.”

“Man doesn’t take chances. He wouldn’t drive around with a girl in the car. He took her, got her off the street as quickly as possible. Just keep looking. Jamie, details.”

“I’m on it.” 

“You know, it’d be helpful if I knew exactly what to look for,” I comment. “We just have kiddie porn, and that can put him away for something...but it doesn’t help us find Billie.” 

“I know. Details, what does he mean by that?”

“Survey everything. Point out anything that catches my attention. Hey, is there, like an attic or a basement?”

“There’d be a door somewhere, or stairs.”

“Sometimes there isn’t. I remember being in a house...you got to the basement through a hole in the closet floor. You wouldn’t know it was there, it was covered up. I’m gonna get Jason.” 

“What kind of house has that?” Spencer asks.

“I don’t know. You know what he’s talking about?”

I walk down the hallway and head into the living room, where Jason is pulling something out of a broom. “What’s that?”

“Insulation. What did you need?”

“I was thinking...is there a basement or an attic? Sometimes, there will be patches in the floor or the ceiling, and when you take out the patches, there’s the entrance.” I explain. “Didn’t he have insulation on him? Access point might be in a bedroom or in the hallway.” 

“The hallway. Jamie, there’s a vent.” I turn around and head back the way I came, stopping under a vent in the ceiling with poofy stuff hanging from it. 

“You mean this thing?” I ask. 

“Yeah. That thing. Hotch, get me up there.” 

“Here, take my crutches, I can get up there. Jason, help me.” I take off my crutches, letting them clank on the wooden floor under us and jump into Jason’s arms, opening the vent and hoisting myself up from there. “Jesus Christ, I’m heavy.” 

“You’re just out of shape. Alright, thanks, Hotch. Jamie’s already up there. Jamie, look for Billie.” I nod, crawling away from the hole and looking around, spotting a girl with a bright pink arm cast. “She’s here.” I crawl towards her, unwrapping the tape from aronud her mouth. “Sssh. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m Jamie. We’re gonna take you back to your parents. You’re safe now. Is your arm hurting?” I ask. 

“I wanna go home.”

“I know.”

“Hey, Billie. My name’s Jason. Jamie and I are gonna take you home.” 

“Can she get to a doctor afterwards to check on her arm?” I ask. 

“Yeah, maybe. Your mommy and daddy are very worried about you.” 

“I wanna go home,” she pants. 

“Let’s go see your mom and dad, huh?” Jason undos the rest of her bindings takes her in her arms. “Oh, I forgot. I took this for luck.” He gives her something. “Let’s bring it back to where it belongs, okay? Let’s go see your mommy and daddy. Jamie, go down after her. Hotch! Here she comes. Here you go, sweetie. Watch your arm.”

“Thanks, for not getting mad at me.” I say as he lowers her into Aaron’s arms. ‘Watch her arm.”

“What did you even do?” I chuckle at his obliviousness. “Watch your arm.”

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

“I got absolutely nothing.” 

“Aw, nothing.” 

“Ssss…two pair…” Spencer hisses. “Of aces…”

“Oh, get out of town! Why you always winning? Nuh-uh!” 

“Cause he cheats!”

“Poker. It’s mathematics, it’s statistics.”

“Which explains why I’m horrible at it,” I comment. “I don’t think I had anything either.” 

“No, you didn’t.” 

“He’s from Vegas.”

“House rules.”

“There’s that, too.” 

“Alright, shuffle.” 

“Give me a card,” Derek demands.

“Hey, Hotch,” Jason asks. 

“Yeah? He can play poker, we’re not using actual money.”

“It’s not that. Not even his dad can teach him to play.” 

“Uncle Jason!” I exclaim.

“It’s true. Did you send flowers to that tech girl...Garcia...and say they were from me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Jason, people need to know that they’re important, and sometimes you forget that.” 

“I already sent her a gift.” 

“What? Jamie, you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, maybe you should ask,” I remark. 

“Oohh, boy got some sass.” 

“It’s his dad. Dave can be blunt. What did you get for her, Jason?” 

“An MP3 player. Jamie helped pick it out. They last longer. Unless you drop them, or the battery dies, whichever comes first.” 

“So, she got two gifts.”

“What if she thinks I’m sweet on her?”

“I’ll talk to her.” Elle gives a funny look that makes us all laugh.

“Give me cards,” I say.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Growing Pains: The Characters

No matter what medium, characters are an integral part of storytelling.  Whether it’s a book, stage play, movie, or a television show, the audience will likely not stick with it if they should happen to think the Eight Deadly Words:

“I don’t care what happens to these people.”

While it’s important to develop good characters in every form of storytelling, it is perhaps the most crucial to get them right on television.

While a film can distract from it’s lackluster characters with interesting visuals, a fast-paced storyline, and some neat twists and setpieces, television rarely has that luxury.  Produced with a smaller runtime, on a smaller budget, television episodes tend to be character-based.  With the exception of anthologies, most television shows have a set number of cast members that the audience follows through multiple episodes.  This means that the characters in shows must be versatile enough to be interesting in multiple stories, and multiple types of stories, and be able to grow and change at a slow, but steady, rate.  As a result, writing for characters on television can be hard.

Even when the said characters are a family from a Domestic Sitcom.

Like I said, characters are a vital ingredient in television.  They are the people that we come back to every week, and often, they are the reason we keep watching.  The characters make or break a television show, and as such, it’s incredibly important to create a main cast that the audience enjoys spending time with.

Luckily, the way to do it isn’t as hard as it might seem.

I’ve mentioned before that the secret to creating main characters (especially for television) is to mix two components: relatability and entertainment.

As with all fiction, television is an exaggerated version of reality.  Even the slice-of-life sitcom scenarios have to be a little bigger, a little more extreme than our normal lives in order to be entertainment.  But the audience tends not to buy it unless there’s that dose of reality, that relatability within the stories and characters in that we can see ourselves reacting in similar ways, or recognize elements in our own lives.  This is true of writing for plots, but it’s also true of writing for characters.

Which brings us to our question:

Are the Seavers good television protagonists?

What a great question, I’m so glad I asked!  Let’s take a look.

The Seavers are, to some degree, a family that any of us might know, or in some ways, be.  They fight, make up, grow and learn as much as any family does, and as such, the audience identifies with their dynamic.  They react to events, not as a unit, but as individuals within a family unit, and their separate personalities and interactions with one another make for engaging stories and development.

But, like I said, they are individuals, not a unit, and we have to look at them as such, starting with the patriarch of the family: Jason Seaver.

Jason is a psychiatrist, a dad, and a Reasonable Authority Figure.  While not infallible, Jason does whatever he can to be fair with his kids, and, being exposed to them often, combined with his practice gives him an edge on knowing how to get them to behave.  He’s interested in knowing the roots of the behaviors, and tries very hard to understand his family.  He’s more likely to concoct an ‘outside the box’ method to reign in his kids, but he’s always respectful of their feelings, and tries to bring the family together.  He is the heart, ready to take charge when necessary.

Of course, being a ‘grown-up’ does not automatically make him a complete person.  Jason also grows and learns throughout the series, and comes with struggles of his own.  There are plenty of episodes where he deals with decisions like whether to go back to work, or stay at home to support his wife’s career, or is forced to contend with things like his mother’s second marriage.  As such, he’s a relatable character, more than just ‘The Dad’, but a person in his own right.  This element is shared by his wife, Maggie Seaver.

Maggie is a reporter, a mom, and, surprisingly, another Reasonable Authority Figure.  Again, not infallible, but in a different way than her husband.  Maggie is a little more prone to laughing at her family’s antics, and being a little more quick to jump to action than Jason’s “Wait for the teachable moment” strategies.  She’s more of the disciplinarian between the two, a devoted career woman, and is on the more cautious side.  

She has her share of problems too, such as dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, harassment in the workplace, and her father’s death.  Again, she is more than ‘The Mom’, and continues to grow throughout the series.  She’s a more rounded character, a person for the audience to relate to.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the parents on the show is how they work together and interact.  As it turns out, the show was originally going to be more focused on the parents, until Mike turned into the Breakout Character of the show.  The ‘grown ups’ don’t always agree, and approach parenting in different ways, but they endeavor to work together as a team, with a genuine relationship.  Sometimes they fight, but they are typically supportive of one another, and handle problems in a mature way that tends to more closely reflect real life rather than other ‘zany’ revenge or ‘lesson teaching’ plotlines of other Dom-Coms.  They do genuinely want what’s best for their kids, and the audience gets to watch them watch their family grow up and expand in a way that’s resonant with how real parents deal with their own families.  

As a result, Jason and Maggie work well as sitcom protagonists, being different enough from each other to spark conflict and struggle, but affectionate and loving enough to patch it up before it gets too ugly.  Their relationship comes across as genuine, and they grow enough as individuals that it’s satisfying to watch them throughout all seven seasons of the show.

But, of course, there’s a lot more to the Seavers than the parents.  Let’s talk about the kids.

We have to start with Mike.

The oldest kid and the Breakout Character (similar to Michael J. Fox’s character, Alex P. Keaton, on Family Ties, except a polar opposite personality), Mike Seaver is most parents’ mildly annoying nightmare.  Not bad enough to be a ‘bad kid’, but nowheres near good, Mike was a middle-of-the-road teenager.  He got into trouble, came home after curfew, lied, attempted to cheat, and was overall, kind of a self-centered brat early on, but he typically knew where to draw the line (see the drug episode, “Thank God it’s Friday”), and didn’t get away with the bad things that he did do.  

As time went on, Mike grew up and out of a lot of his problematic behavior, becoming more responsible and mature.  (Some of that was affected by actor Kirk Cameron’s conversion to Christianity during the show.)  Even early on, there were signs that Mike not be so much of a troublemaker, where he did show a hidden heart of gold underneath the cocky, snarky exterior.  Typically the funny-man of the kids, Mike was always ready with a quick-witted joke, (usually at someone else’s expense, especially his siblings) which made him a fan-favorite early on.  The show is an excellent showcase of his development from problem-child to responsible adult, getting a job and moving out.  But he wasn’t the only one of the kids to change.

Carol, second oldest, was the brain of the family, and she knew it.  Bright, studious, hardworking, and just as much a Deadpan Snarker as Mike, Carol was typically the Only Sane Man of the kids, the most likely to realize when something was a bad idea.  Occasionally suffering from self-esteem problems (being ‘nerdy’ in the 1980s was akin to having the Black Plague, according to teen media), Carol was more cautiously adventurous than her brothers, wanting to see the world and learn as much as she could.

She too grew up.  Throughout the series, Carol learned that academics wasn’t everything, and grew into a more rounded individual, taking risks, exploring, and becoming a responsible adult, changing through experiences both good and bad.  Occasionally self-righteous, sensitive, and intelligent, Carol was a fine, and relatively realistic example of the high-school smart-kid in the real world.

That leaves only Ben, the youngest.

From a young age, Ben was rowdy, rambunctious, rascally, and (I’m almost out of R words, help) a royal pain to his siblings.  Initially rather gullible and apparently insistent on taking lessons the wrong way, the trouble Ben got into in the beginning was mostly due to the fact that he was just naive (Inviting a homeless kid in for Christmas Eve, calling a porn hotline repeatedly, etc.), but as time went on, Ben became more of a problem than Mike had been, getting himself into bigger trouble.  As the youngest and the most perpetually childish, more and more lessons were milked out of Ben than any of the other siblings, and as such, he had to screw up more than they did.

He got more than his share of focus episodes too.  Episodes like “Birth of a Seaver” included large subplots where Ben had his own big moments, dealing with the death of a stranger, and then the new life of a family member, in a rather interesting way.  Other episodes focused more on his learning hard truths, such as the unfortunately accurate Aesop: Sometimes, cheaters prosper, but honesty is better for the long run.

It’s difficult to say that the kids ‘got along’, because for the most part, they didn’t.  They fought, squabbled, tattled, and got each other into trouble quite often.  By the same token, they also knew when to help each other.

Like I said earlier, the one thing you can say about the Seavers is that they felt absolutely genuine.  They deconstructed character types and sitcom plots regularly, and the family’s interactions felt real.  They weren’t totally saccharine, and they weren’t unbelievably nasty to one another either.  They were different from one another, (different enough to get different stories out of them for seven years) but came together when they needed it.  At the end of the day, despite the personality conflicts, disobedient kids, and unfortunate events, the Seavers loved each other, and felt like a family.

And that’s what made the show really work.

The characters had to grow and change, albeit slowly, because that’s how life works.  Growing Pains was a sitcom depicting exaggerated family life, and as such, the characters had to be memorable, as well as learn and grow.  By the end of the show, these are not the same people that we started out with.  Out of necessity, they had to grow up.  And that’s a good thing.

Thanks to the familiar format and personalities, the audience enjoyed tuning in every week to watch and laugh along with a family that we related to, that we understood.  Almost everyone can find at least a part of themselves in at least one character, and we recognize the interactions in our own lives and families.

In the end, the Seavers are good sitcom protagonists, because they hit that combination of entertainment and relatability nearly perfectly, with just the right consistency to tell stories full of heart, comedy, and tragedy, and to make it work for seven years.  They felt real, and after all, that’s the point of good characters.

Thank you guys so much for reading!  Join us next time as we discuss Growing Pains and the culture.  If you have anything you’d like to say, don’t forget to leave an ask!  I hope to see you all in the next article.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It: Part One

Jensen x Reader, Jared Padalecki, Leo Caprini (OMC) platonic

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all.

Part one is from Jensen’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series. Some are just songs I imagined playing or being played as the story took shape in my imagination, or they are songs actually being used in the series. I will link them when that’s the case. Hope you enjoy it! xo

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him.

What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)

Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify)  [Youtube Playlist Coming Soon]

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

“You sure you feel up to this? We can just hang out at the hotel if you want.”

“No,” Jensen said. “I need to get out, get fresh air. I need to breathe. Have I ever mentioned how much I HATE board meetings? It’s why I’m not an office guy. I would suck at it. What happened to let’s meet at a restaurant, have a meal, a drink and just talk stuff out?”

“Alright man, whatever you want,” Jared agreed and took a few tentative steps to cross the street. “But, remember, you were the one that wanted this all to happen ASAP. The guy is on vacation with his family and putting aside time for us. If he wants to set up in his hotel conference room…” Jared trailed off and shrugged before making his way across the street.

Jensen waved him off and followed in his friend’s footsteps and as they made their way up onto the boardwalk, they were both relatively relieved with how deserted it was. October at the Jersey shore wasn’t exactly ‘in season’ but it was a nice enough night that they could have encountered a lot more people.

“This is good,” Jensen smiled, as they strolled down the boardwalk. He inhaled a deep breath of the salty air and exhaled slowly. “I get that. But it's important to get this stuff finalized before I go back to Austin and start making firm plans. ‘Cause before you know it, it’s back to Vancouver. Doesn’t leave much time to get things in motion.”

“Could always push the festival back a year,” Jared suggested, knowing Jensen would never agree. He was like a dog with a bone where this festival was concerned. Once the idea to host a three-day event in Austin came about, Jensen was bound and determined to make it happen, all in a year’s time.

“No, its gotta be next year,” he said, gesturing with his hands that was his final decision. “It's fine. I’m better now that I’m out of that conference room. It was like a million degrees in there. This, this was a good idea. Maybe we find a small bar, grab a beer, some grub. Just relax a bit.”

“Until your phone rings,” Jared said unintentionally sharp.

“Come on, Jar. I don’t wanna—” he sighed and stopped walking. “It's over, alright. She left and honestly it sucked.”

“And the festival is your way to distract yourself from that.”

Jensen gave him a reprimanding look but couldn’t deny his claim.

“It was six months ago, and yeah, it took me a while to get over it. But it wasn’t like we were married, and she wanted something else. I’m done waiting for her, okay? I get it now, she’s not coming back. So, you can stop worrying. And yeah, maybe the festival is my way of moving on. Work is work, and while it keeps me busy enough, I want to do something more. Organizing this thing through the brewery, it’s gonna be great. It's going to help a ton of people and bring some recognition to a few great charitable organizations.”

Jared walked by his side quietly, listening and waiting for Jensen to stop rambling. When he did, he asked a simple question completely throwing Jensen for a loop.

“That all sounds great. It really does, and your intentions are on point, Jay. But… what happens when it’s over?””

He hemmed and hawed over an answer, sputtering and stuttering before just giving up and shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine?”

“Perfectly. Fine.” He nodded as confirmation. “In fact, so fine, I won’t even remember whats-her-name because I’ll be swimming in fine.” His tone oozed sarcasm, only to be made more punctuated by his expression.

“Jensen…” Jared sighed. “Just stop. It's fine, I get it. I’ll back off. Let’s go get that beer and whatever.”

He shoved his hands in his pocket as the autumn wind kicked up his hair as it rolled in off the ocean. He started to look around at the different booths, only a few of which were open and functioning that time of year. A little further down the boardwalk, Jared spotted a place that could be just what they needed.

“Come on, let’s check out this place,” he motioned his head towards a bar/restaurant called The Beachcomber. Jensen shrugged in agreement as they headed towards the building.

Walking through the front doors, they were met by a quick blast of warm air from above. There was a smattering of tables with patrons, but mostly they were empty. They made their way towards the back of the bar, where there were tables open that overlooked the ocean. Claiming one, they sat down and grabbed a menu to peruse. Not too long after, a waitress came by and took their orders. If she had recognized them, she didn’t mention it and went about her business as usual.

“I don’t want to keep bringing it up,” Jared started, after the waitress came back with their drinks.

Jensen sipped his beer. “So, don’t.”

“I just—I thought you were going to propose? You told me you wanted too. She left because you couldn’t make the commitment, Jay. Why didn’t you go through with it?”

Jensen just shrugged and looked out over the ocean to think before answering Jared’s question. “I don’t know… at the last minute, I just couldn’t do it. The idea of settling down with one person is terrifying, man. It may suit you and Gen, but I don’t know if it’s for me.”

“It’s not like you’re some playboy. You are monogamous as hell. So, what was it really?”

“Maybe I just couldn’t see my future with her. You know, settling down, kids, the whole nine.”

Jared nodded slowly, finally understanding. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because that makes me sound like a dick.”

“You are a dick,” Jared teased and threw a piece of the napkin at his friend.

Jensen mocked him with a fake laugh and went back to his beer. “Yeah, yeah… moving on. Let’s talk about the important shit. I want tomorrow to go as smoothly as possible so we aren’t sitting in the pits-of-Hell conference room, so will you have a chance to look through all the contracts?”

Jared nodded and sighed. “Mhm. But really Jay, that shit needs to just go to the lawyer. I know you want everything to be perfect, to go smoothly. And I have no doubt that it will… but can’t we just concentrate on the creative stuff? Gen and I got a lot of the marketing taken care of. You and Jason, Robbie too, right? Y’all got the music covered. The festival will go off without a hitch and Random Acts will take in a bunch of money, as will the Austin Y and the crisis hotline.”

“Yeah, music is coming along. I just don’t have anyone that fits the vibe, you know?”

“No, I don’t. What vibe is that?”

Jensen shrugged. “I don’t know… this I guess,” he motioned towards the beach and the boardwalk, “I wanna bring this to the Brewfest.”

“Why? I mean, it's great here, but what makes it so special?”

“Can’t put my finger on it. Have you ever been here in the summertime? Dude, it's amazing. Just the whole vibe of the place…”

“That’s why you’re so intent on having these meetings with Leo. You want him to bring the boardwalk to Austin.”

Jensen shrugged again and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, alright. I will help you make that happen then. Tomorrow, we’ll just have to convince him.”

“Well, lookit you. Being all motivational and shit.”

“Rah Rah!” Jared teased and shaking his hands like pom poms.

“How are we friends?” he asked and shook his head with a sarcastic eye roll included.

“You’d be lost without me and you know it,” Jared mocked and raised his glass in salute. Jensen nodded in reluctance agreement and clinked his glass against Jared’s.

The food was dropped not too long after that, and they enjoyed their seaside dinner as the sun set behind the houses to the west. About an hour after they arrived, dinner and drinks were finished, and they debated on staying or going back to the hotel. Deciding to stay for one more round, they settled in and kept an eye on Game Six of the World Series happening on the TVs above the bar.

Somewhere around the fifth inning, the volume got turned down, and the customer’s attention was asked to look towards the small corner stage. Behind the riser, was the backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean and a smattering of small boat lights on the horizon. Though the sun had just set a little while ago, the moon was already nearly full, hanging low in the night sky.

Jared was intent on the game playing out over the bar, even though there was no sound now. Jensen sipped at the rest of his beer and decided to keep his eyes on the stage. An older man, maybe in his mid-60s, welcomed the crowd and thanked them for patronizing The Beachcomber. His thick New York accent made Jensen smile, especially once he took in the man’s overall appearance of his slicked-back salt and pepper hair, white tee shirt and black leather coat.

Right out of the damn Sopranos, he thought and chuckled to himself.

He watched the stage, eager to see some Sinatra wannabe come out and try to charm the crowd. But when the girl with the guitar came out instead, he sat up a little straighter in his chair and glanced over at his best friend to see if he was paying attention.

He wasn’t.

Jensen couldn’t take his eyes off her, not solely because she was beautiful; which she was… stunningly so. Her beauty wasn’t what made him sit up and take notice. It was the way she held her guitar; gripping it as if it were her lifeline. He observed her closely, surprised that she seemed nervous. When she strummed the guitar and brought the melody to life her nerves faded away; she was suddenly confident and assured. Her voice carried on and as the lyrics of “Dust in the Wind” filled up the back end of the Beachcomber Restaurant, Jensen found himself immersed in the moment.

He went to the bar that night in search of a hot meal and cold beer. Jensen didn’t expect to find a solution to some, or even all, of his problems. But the longer he sat and watched her perform, he started to feel that maybe everything will work out for him after all.

She played through a short set and it was clear the other people in the bar couldn’t care less about the magic he was witnessing. At one point, Jensen looked around and was shocked how little people were paying attention. How did they not hear her voice, feel her words, or get touched by her vulnerability? He was more in shock about that, then the girl herself. Yet, the more she played, the more he was drawn in and attentive to every note, every word, every second.

By the end of the last song, she gave a slight bow and turned to scurry off stage. Jensen clapped eagerly for her, as the last few remaining patrons gave her a half-hearted attempt at applause. He was floored that he was the only one who took notice of her and turned to say as much to Jared, who was on his phone nodding emphatically.

“Yeah, got it. Ten tomorrow morning. Yup, thanks, see you then,” he said into the receiver then ended the call and tucked it away before looking up at Jensen. “You ready to go?”

“No, I… did you hear any of that?”

“Hear what?”

Jensen ran a frustrated hand over his stubbled face. “The girl, the music… did you hear it or did I just imagine that whole thing happening?”

“Oh, I heard it. It was good. I was just sort of engrossed in the game. Anyway, we should go. It’s getting late and Leo’s attorney said he wanted to reconvene by ten.”

“Can you just give me a minute? I want to see if I can catch—” just as he was standing up from the table and surveying the bar, he caught a glimpse of the guitar girl heading out of the doors and sprinting out into the night seaside air. He slumped back into his seat and sighed. “Nevermind… let’s go. I guess I can come back tomorrow night and see if she’s tending bar,” he mumbled more to himself than to Jared.

When Jensen looked back up and saw the way his best friend was looking at him, he shrugged and wrinkled his nose as if he was being chastised for something.

“What?”

“Dude, stalk much? Besides, we have a two o’clock flight out of Atlantic City. Bob is expecting us back to set Sunday morning.”

Jensen groaned. “Shit, I forgot. Alright, well, it’s the modern age, I can use a phone and try to get in touch with her—”

“Jay… chill. She’s just a girl, sure, she’s cute but, what is the big deal?”

Jensen opened his mouth to explain and suddenly felt stupid. She was just a girl; a girl that had a voice that could calm the Kraken, and a mastery of a guitar that could rival most of the greats. Even just hearing a few songs, he knew she was that good; but she was just a girl.

“I’m not taking away her talent, but unless you’re sweet on her or something—”

“No, it’s not that,” Jensen started, but then opted to change the subject and waved it off. “You’re right, no big deal. It’s late and we should get some shut eye before tomorrow. If we’re lucky we can settle all this with Leo, have the contracts in place for the festival and be back home in less than twenty-four hours.”

Jared nodded and felt a bit of his concern wash away. “Ok, good. Just stay focused on the work in front of us and we may actually pull this off.”

Later that night, as Jensen stretched out in his hotel’s king-sized bed, his eyes finally drifted closed and her face was there with him. It was partially hidden in the shadows of a stage, only hints of her features could be seen through the fogginess of the room and the singular light shining down upon her. But it was her. She was humming a tune, something familiar but in his unconscious state was unable to identify what it was. Unbeknownst to him, he began to hum along in his sleep, and a smile touched his lips.

In his dream, she smiled too and reached out a hand towards him. His dream self hesitated but then slowly walked around to the climb the stairs that would take him to her. Just as he joined her, she was gone, but he could still hear her voice humming the familiar melody. From the stage, he looked out and saw the crowd of one. She was there, her face still shrouded in a gradient of darkness, but her voice was clear and comforting. A sudden hit of a snare drum made him look away, and when he looked back at her, she was gone leaving a swirl of grey smoke in her wake.

Another hit of the snare drum pulled him out of the bar, and yet another out of his REM sleep. The alarm pinging on the table beside the bed continued yanking him from a dream he would later come to realize was way more profound than he thought. As he sat up, fully awake now and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sighed as the last few vivid images of the dream dwindled away, leaving only the melody firmly stuck in his mind.

The next morning’s meeting went off without a hitch. After Jared and Jensen met with Leo Caprini and his lawyer, they had a catered breakfast and stood around chatting for a while. Jensen expressed an interest to see more of the town if not for their flight out that afternoon. As if fate heard him and stepped in to correct it, both his and Jared’s phones went off simultaneously. Jensen kept chatting up Leo as Jared excused himself to check the text message that came through from the show’s EP.

No rush back. Set is closed for another three days. Will call with details later.

When Jared returned, Leo and his lawyer were in a sidebar. He held up his phone so Jensen could read the message.

“You get one too?”

Jensen nodded. “Yeah. Wonder what the hell is going on?”

“I’m going to give him a ring on the way back to the motel. But three more days? Shit. I might as well go home for that. Gen and the kids just got back from her folks’ place last night. Could do with a few days home before we get back at it.”

“Then you should. We’re all done here if you want to head back and pack up, get a new flight and all that.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Jared said, with obvious signs of relief washed over him. “You coming?”

Jensen considered it for a moment. “Nah, I think I might just hang here. If I’m gonna do this, might as well do it right.”

“Sure you’re not just gonna get a pizza, pint of ice cream and sit in the room pining all night?”

Jensen drew in a deep breath and tried not to murder his best friend with his glare. “Positive.”

Jared wasn’t wrong though; despite Jensen’s consistent protest he was over it, he was not, in fact, over it. He did miss Dee and would find himself wishing she could come back. But then he would remember that he couldn’t commit, though he did often question the reasons for it. Was it because she really just wasn’t the one? Or was it because he knew she was getting complacent with him and someone else had caught her eye. He wasn’t perfect in their relationship, and he had certainly gone through the laundry list of his shortcomings. The feelings just felt uncertain where Dee was concerned but the distraction of the festival was to combat constantly living in that state of ‘What the fuck am I doing with my life?’. He just prayed that it actually worked.

Jared held his hands up in relent. “Alright, sorry. I’ll stop. I know what you said, you’re done waiting. And that’s good. But, I also know you can get mopey about it when no ones around.”

“True, however… I am moving on. All in to the festival and that’s it. No dating, no relationship bullshit. Just diving head first into trying to pull this off.”

Jared shook his head and chuckled. “Man, I still don’t get what you plan on doing with all this. I mean, I read the contracts, I sat in the meetings, but I guess I just can’t envision it all yet.”

“What’s the hangup?”

“I don’t know… Austin is pretty great as it is. Why bring in other flavors when you have the ultimate chocolate already? You know?”

Jensen busted out laughing and slapped his best friend on the shoulder. “That’s one way to put it. Honestly, it’s the vibe of the place. Dee and I came here years ago, and this boardwalk was hoppin’. Families, first dates, best friends… arcades, rides, food… the food alone is worth it. Yeah, Austin is fucking great, but I want this festival to be the biggest thing to ever happen there. I want people to come from all over to see how special Austin is--”

“And I get that, so why bring a New Jersey boardwalk vibe to Au--”

“Because, son, ain’t nothing else like it anywhere in the world,” Leo interrupted as he rejoined their conversations, giving the much taller man a hearty slap on his shoulder. “You Texas boys sure do got a gorgeous bit of country down there, no one is disputing that. But this here,” he turned and made a sweeping gesture towards the boardwalk ocean that lived across the street, “this is somethin’ special.”

“No argument there,” Jared mused and gave the man a curt smile. “Well, if we are gonna be changing flights, we should get back--”

“Actually, since there’s been a change of plans, I think I might stay here, spend an extra day or two getting to know the area, brainstorm on the festival a while…” Jensen shrugged trying to stay indifferent, but felt a ripple of excitement at the thought.

They had a silent exchange, which Leo watched in amusement. “You boys are somethin’ else!” he chuckled wildly as he proceeded to pull his cell from his pocket. “Since you’re sticking around, Jensen, let me call my assistant and tell her you’ll be comin’ round. I’ll have her give you a tour of some of the must-see places, get a feel for what parts of our little utopia here you wanna cart on down to Texas. Sound good?”

“Sounds, amazing,” he said as the three men moved towards the elevator bank. “Just what I was hoping for.”

An hour later, Jensen was strolling into the hotel bar and scanning the near empty room. Leo had mentioned that his assistant would be there waiting to take him on the promised tour of the boardwalk and businesses Leo maintained there. However, all he could find were two older couples having an early bird dinner, an awkward first date going down at the bar, and a lone woman in a booth pouring over paperwork.

Jensen shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly began to circle the room, hoping that the mystery assistant would reveal herself. As he rounded the corner, he looked up and noticed the woman in the booth. She had finally picked her head up from staring at the papers strewn on the table in front of her, stopping Jensen in his tracks.

It was guitar girl, the singer from the bar he saw the night before. His feet felt frozen to the ground. When he got himself moving again, he walked towards her with no idea what he would say, just that he needed to say something to her. Tentatively, he approached her table, unaware of the large, goofy grin he was unintentionally wearing.

“Hey, hi! How are you? I’m, uh--I saw you at--Uh, what was the name of the place....” Jensen stammered until he saw her confused expression.

Seeing her close up, he realized how many of her striking features he’d missed in the darkened atmosphere of the bar. He took a moment to appreciate just how beautiful she really was, before continuing with his awkward greeting.

“Oh man, uh, let me start over. Hi, I’m Jensen. I saw you sing at a bar last night, and--” he stretched out his hand then to shake hers, and inadvertently struck her glass of iced tea, causing it to splatter all over the papers that were spread out across the table.

He watched, in horrific slow motion as the mixture of liquid and ice made a rapid path across the table, soaking and smearing the ink of the pages. Jensen glanced up at the woman as her face contorted from confused to panicked, to disbelief.

“Oh… shit! I’m--I’m sorry… here, let me get that--”

Jensen lunged for the napkins and began to pat the papers dry, as the women stood and did the same. A waitress scurried over with more napkins upon seeing the mishap and Jensen took them gratefully, trying to save as many of the documents as he could.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said, again, finally causing the woman to sigh and slid out from the booth.

Seeing that some of the tea landed on her pants, Jensen felt his face flush with embarrassment. He went to apologize again and she stopped him by holding up a hand.

“Don’t. Just… don’t. Its fine,” she said flatly, and wiped at the growing wet patch on her pants. She looked up, but avoided his apologetic gaze and called for the server. “Hey Marci, can I get a handful more napkins, please, hun?”

“Sure thing!” she called back and disappeared behind the bar.

“So, what was it you wanted?” she asked Jensen, finally taking a moment and looking him straight in the eye.

He stuttered to a smile and shrugged. “I just wanted to say I was a fan--”

“I see you two found each other!” Leo’s voice bellowed through the bar.

Jensen turned, surprised to hear him, and then quickly turned back to the woman to see her expression to be just as confused as his was.

“Well, damn, (Y/N), leave you alone for an hour and you’re already a mess!” his wild cackle made all the heads in the barn turn to stare.

“Actually, Leo, this is my fault. I spilled the iced tea, and--” Jensen stammered before getting interrupted.

Leo waved Jensen off. “No worries, son. I’m sure she understands, dontcha, sweetie?”

“Sweetie?” he couldn’t help mimic Leo’s word sarcastically. A thousand thoughts flew through his head about the nature of their relationship until Leo laughed and shook his head.

“No, no… she’s my niece! She’s a damn good assistant, too! I suppose I should make some formal introductions. Jensen, this is my niece, (Y/N) she operates as my assistant, a bartender, a coin clerk and a sometimes rock star, ain’t that right?!”

(Y/N) smirked, and nodded to appease her uncle. Despite their initial encounter, she reached out her hand to Jensen to shake it. “Nice to meet you,” she said and quickly withdrew her hand.

“This is the fine gent I texted you about.”

“Oh,” she replied and looked back at Jensen. “Well, small world, huh.”

“Yeah, I’d say,” he said with a snort, accompanied by a goofy kind of grin, but instantly regretted it. He thought that (Y/N) seemed unimpressed and, maybe even mildly put out by the entire sequence of events.

“Well, anyways, will you be able to take him around today? I have a bunch of appointments I need to keep, or I’d take him myself.”

“Sure,” she replied. “Where do you want me to take him?”

“Shit, (Y/N), you’d know better than me. This is your town, sweetie. Go on and paint it red with the boy!”

“Uncle Leo…” she chastised and shook her head. Turning to Jensen, she again gave her best professional smile. “I just need to go change, but I only live a mile away. I’ll run home, meet you back here in about thirty minutes.”

Jensen nodded as casually as he could, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Then my work here is done! Come on, (Y/N), I’ll walk you out. Jensen, my boy, you’ll be in good hands with this one. Any questions you have, any input you need, (Y/N) here is the girl to give it to ya! No one knows Seaside better than she does.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” (Y/N) said as she gathered up the still soaking wet papers and as delicately as she could, piled them with the envelope and slapped them with a thwamp against Jensen’s chest. “These were your contracts, by the way. Hope you don’t mind waiting for new copies.” She shrugged, her eyes ablaze with satisfaction.

(Y/N) was fierce, he could tell that right away. As he watched her leave, Leo must have said something that she found funny, because she threw her head back with a laugh. He couldn’t hear her, but wondered what it sounded like. As he waited at the bar for her to return, there were a lot of things he wondered about where guitar girl was concerned. Mostly, the tenor of her voice and the way she played stuck with him and how it felt so in contrast with the steely-eyed, guarded woman that he had just met. Jensen was more than just intrigued by her; he was curious to know how many more layers there was to this woman, to his guitar girl.

Just before she reappeared, dressed in a Ozzy T-Shirt and ripped jeans with a pair of brown suede sandals, it was then Jensen realized it was the longest he’d gone without one thought of Dee crossing his mind.

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[ac3has6l00d]

Shit my band director has said

I have been keeping track of a bunch of the funny shit my Band Director has been saying to us since like, halfway though the school year-last year. Here is what I have so far. If it is in reference to a person, I will put their instrument and if It's a song I'll put the song (if I remember it). He is referred to as Barr (an ironic last name). Also don't clock me for spelling I'm not meant to have my phone out during band and yet here we are.

-Highlighter of a thousand suns

-YESSS, Cole (a french horn player) no, BUT YESSSSS

-Dee dee, I'm part of a drum set

-He dead, but a surprise ending

-Haha, I am the sailor, you fell in love with

-Santas Depressed (Minor Alterations)

-Though the woodwinds I heard the buuuRR

-It's the best of all possible worlds, and then they get invaded (Candid Suit)

-harcan back to the yesterday of your, when we had counting issues

-horns, a little more, yes, I am sure

-let it ring

-no, no *disgusted face* no

-do it again!

-can I hit you with some scary knowledge

-this is good enough, thanks, this is never wrong (talking about Dr. Beat)

-the raseing of the prevorial oooohs

-goodjob Joel (a trumpet player), you rythemmaster you

-i can say this because I am one and I'm raising a girl, but boys are weird

-Alright, Angelic fruity boy (in reference to a trumpet player)

-Horns... the heroes instrument

-i actually didn't hear you at all

-did they take your triangle?

-Right notes are also important

- Teacups? It's a small world? *Ian (a french horn player)- Mt. Everest* You got sasquatch on the brain?

-morse code people

-a shade under the tempo

-woofie woofie woofie all the way around

-That isn't our Forté in the horn section to play lightly (He played french horn)

-can I get a rallintado amen

-tess (flut/piccolo player), Jordan (percussionist) - Jordan tess, Piccolo tambourine, - tambourine Piccolo

- we have plenty loud in this piece, enjoy the soft

-thats when they get invaded (Candid Suit)

-thanks trumpets... yah yeah yeahh

-flute hanger-oner

-Bold, Underlined, and in all caps

-music land

- *impersonates Kristin chenoweth* (Candid Suit)

- coming in from the basement

-were you trying to roast me? i will defend myself

-all a Twitter about arby's or something I dunno

-that was also a bold, all caps email

-unicon has a limp

-where have you been all my tambourine life

-can we agree on right notes then?

-melody melody melody, finnaly finnaly finnaly (trombones getting the melody)

-slip the surely bonds of earth

-ah please, decapitate all the invaders

-good for you... breaking norms

-christmas arrived early for you but not for anybody else

-ill write you an invitation next time

- but shut up

-stare out the window

-you may be alright young man

-seniors is theirs enough of an amen? (Chosing to Play Angel's in the Arcatectur by Frank ticheli)

-if I see that guy in a dark allyway...  I'll play him a recording of Angel's in the arcatectur (To they Guy that gave us a bad score on our MPA)

-whah whah what is like a bad joke on the trombone

-gone fishing be back in a hour 

-im just music roasting you

-i dont like this key HAAAAAAHHHH

-empty that spit

- everyone is still standing, so that's good

- im monolouging, you get that input later

- that's a really anticlimactic chord trumpets

-three f's. And your all thinking rainbows and unicorns

-Joels (a trumpet player) paying attention

- twirling the wherlys (tubes at the beginning and end of AitA)

-i dont mess with my post-its

-dropped mute isn't apart of my score

-i wanna see fire coming from your nostrils... like GOT IT

- it's muddy but we're getting there

-alive and well

-i would expect guys from he middle school band .... that's the only roast I have

-rob (a percussionist), we need to do spinning practice

-the devils intervals

-we can end on an amen

-it's like a great dane with crippling anxiety, its scared of everything. So what do you do, you put it on a treadmill and start popping balloons around it... this is training

-if I cant trust you then give it back to me.

-it's about me not you, me not you.

-for trombones, not toilets

-im going to let the trombones use their new toys (some trombones got plunger mutes (I was not one if them, Bass trombone life, bro))

-like... poof

-the devil in band

- satan himself... in the form of your phone

-welcome to band

-it's kinda hard, if you havent noticed.

-please hold for your next representative

- you are playing the elevator muzak version

-some of you are counting... and some of you play the alto. Sax (actual shade ngl)

-the best bond song from one of the stupidest bond movie (this nerd had us playing James Bond music at the end of the school year)

-jordan, finally, a use for your whistling.

-the first thing ella (his daughter) said to me, was flower

-impeckable german

-im going to save you all from this and mute it

- for those of you unitallans

- they chuck 'em

- bread and butter band keys

-there is no humor in marching band

- the fads you kids are into these days.

- our boiiis

- instrament of mass destruction

-ahoy mates

-is there a pre malone

-the newest version of mac... high Ciara (a chick in my Music Production Class)

-your in your pre stages

-thats a great beat son

-were on a bus my child

-if you don't music speak

-where is the beat, I am trying to adjust accordingly

-Ich Bin confused

- if you use the word angelic I will come back there (One of the Horns said it as a joke)

-it's like the piccolo of the percussion section

-mr. Barr is now in his office

-boys, why and no

-why are you whistling Hawaii 5.0?

- yeah, I need a highhat to subdivide too

-we got new old bessy back there (about the new bass drum frame since the old frame broke during the MB season)

-oh I've used dumpsterfire, I've seen quite a few in my day

-dumpsterfire? (I used it and he picked up on it)

-you went even alive, why am I telling you?

-do I sound hip?

-thats the right answer

-if I don't do that to yours, it doesn't mean you are not a great person

-you found 8th position (I'm pretty sure this was him talking to me about bass trombone stuff)

-i see what I did there

- don't get old, you wake up and then you can't feel your leg.

-the sparks were there but it's not raging yet

-long live the king

-i will brb

-thats annoying

-its quitten time y'all

-Barb Peterson (Our lovely Colour Gaurd instucter) Hotline

- please escort this out, I hate it

- is Seth's (Clarinet and Pit) head one of those two way mirrors?

-that's incredable seth

-should I not make spinal tap references?

-nevermind a reference I will put away for this class.

-i now live in fear of that.

-this is bumpen

-im having some real memory issues.

-death star trench run

-think the towel, be the towel

-dont poke the barr

-my wife watches garbage tv when I'm not there

-the most dramatic little people show

-soundtrack, moving on

-twiggles (there is a teacher with the last name of Twig)

-saf to say

-i like you, but not that much

-im going to give you the confused dog look

-this is not open roast time

-zing

-i love how it creeped into your subconscious

-nooooohhoo

-what a quick roast of me annie (a very, very, very good clarinetist)

-it's like the end of the commercial where they add all the legal stuff.

- the flex tape tape

-am I going to have to sound really aloof and do commercials

-i love how you are all responsive

-let me finish!

-don't juule

-i have my box o' toys (MTP we were recording sounds for a project so he pulled out a bunch of percussion stuff)

- if i squint I can hear the right thing

-I feel like hot garbage

-if only we lived in the information age

-were hitting the gym annie... I don't know what that means

-the gong is in the room

-i blew up the death star

-25% of people who conduct this come down with this crazy illness

-your like the studio aduiance for like QVC, "what do you do?" "SCRATCH IT OUT!"

-i dont understand your generation

-youve poisoned me. I hope you are happy

-weight not wait

-oh wow

-shut up

-you just lead your sled into a ditch (Midnight sleighride)

-i love his vocal signature, like "I did this song and I'm jason derulo"

-the power of pan

-wait, what's tic-toc

-shut it

-its like a hippo with Ballarina shoes on

-it's thick with a whole bunch of K

-im trying to throw him a gong bone

-Trombasusaphoneabone

Yeah I have no clue if he knows he is saying that stuff

[freakadr0id]

The Magicians 4x13

Okay so, I can’t sleep at all. To be honest, I’ll probably end up deleting this later, since it’s 2am as I am typing this up on the shitty Tumblr app and I honestly don’t know how coherent this will actually be. There’s just a bunch of emotions swirling around in my brain and in my heart that refuse to shut up. This episode is quite literally keeping me up at night. I’m hoping that if I vent into the void, then perhaps I’ll be able to get some sleep.

Yeah, you know what this is ultimately about, but let’s back up for a second and focus on the season itself first.

This season was, as I’ve mentioned before, all over the place in terms of pacing. The first 6 episodes were really strong, but started falling apart afterwards. We got an interesting premise in the first two episodes with the main characters under magical witness protection and having completely different memories and personalities. 4x03 - 4x05, although perhaps not the most plot driven episodes, gave me some of my character moments of the whole season. 4x06 was a nice step on track in terms of plot, but started the slip in terms of pacing and conflict. After 4x06 though, I feel like things really just started to get lost. The connection between the monster and the library wasn’t built up well, and the bombshell reveal of the monster’s sister and the Christopher Plover moments kind of made the whole second half of season 4 have a sort of ‘jump-the-shark’ feel to it. And then came the season finale.

This episode was, for the lack of a better term, a bit of a mess, and was ultimately indicative of the problems that plagued the second half of the season. Too many plots were resolved too quickly and with not enough pay off. First, the monsters were both trapped and defeated rather easily, with the monster’s sister being trapped within the first minute of the episode (making her appearance in the show all but pointless), and Monster Eliot being trapped using a basic bait and switch tactic. Then, Julia becomes “normal” (a decision she doesn’t even make and an event we don’t actually see on screen) and is unable to do magic, which is of itself an unsatisfying end to the whole goddess Julia plotline, but that is also resolved by the end of the episode with her able to do magic again. The monster and the library conflict is resolved in a ten minute scene with a confrontation between Penny, Alice, Q, and Everett (which could have been prevented had they just THROWN THE BOTTLES IN AT THE SAME TIME) concluding the conflict the whole season had built up in just a couple minutes. This little confrontation of course ends in Quentin’s death.

Okay. Um. So, yeah. Quentin’s death hit me hard, as I’m sure it did for all fans of The Magicians. Now normally I would be okay with the death of the main character (well, not okay, but you know what I mean), knowing that there was a possibility of bringing him back next season, but several sources have confirmed that Jason Ralph is not returning as a regular for season, which means he’s done. That’s it. No more Q. Which is just....yeah. I knew there had been rumors surrounding Jason’s agent or something like that (I don’t remember quite what it was), which caused some people to suspect that he wasn’t returning to the show, but I never would have thought those rumors would be true. The fact that Jason is not coming back makes Q’s death and the entire season that much worse.

I do not like how Q’s death was handled. Ignoring the whole “bury your gays” thing going on, there’s just not enough resolved in Quentin’s story to make his death something meaningful to fans. For this being a character’s last season, there was very little for Quentin to do this season. Outside of the first and last three episodes (two of which he wasn’t even himself in) he did not have that much significance to the plot, which I get is kind of the point of The Magicians as a series. There is also the fact that Q and Eliot only spoke to each other once in this whole season, and did not get any closure in regards to their relationship. I am admittedly biased as a Queliot shipper, but what was the point of bringing up 3x05 again without a proper emotional conclusion. And again I understand that is the point they were trying to make with this, death doesn’t always happen with a happy ending or a completed story, but Quentin (and all the others) deserves better.

I do not mind that Q sacrificed himself for his friends. In fact, that is how I pictured him going (although not permanently). What I didn’t like was the line implying that his sacrifice was a suicide. Q didn’t have to say that, and the fact they had the Suicide Prevention Hotline number at the end of the episode does not overshadow the fact that they had their majorly depressive main character imply that this was a suicide and that any development that he had made as a character in regards to his mental well-being up until this point was moot. For a show that encouraged discussion about mental illness, it really dropped the ball on that one.

Then, there is the whole meta aspect of this. It seems to me that the writers were so determined to make Quentin’s death an emotional gut-punch that they sacrificed consistent writing and audience trust for the sake of a twist ending. Several sources have stated that both the production team and Jason Ralph knew at the beginning of the season that this was going to be his last, which makes this season look that much messier. Normally I would probably say that excuses some of the sloppy story and pacing of the season but that doesn’t work in this case, since they knew early on that Jason was leaving. They knew that this was going to be Q’s last season, and instead of making this a worthy farewell for him, they pushed him off to the sidelines for the sake of building up the ensemble to compensate for his absence; prolonged the monster plot so all signs would point to Eliot possibly dying due to his possession and included 4x05 and a relationship tease for Quentin and Eliot; all for the sake of an audience midirect and to prevent them from guessing it. And it goes beyond that! From all indications (although admittedly none of this is verified) it looks like the other actors had no knowledge of this, were given fake scenes for the ending and were not shown the episode until shortly before the official airing. Whether or not this was for some weird legal reason or to prevent potential spoilers is unclear, but it seems to be for the sake of keeping the audience in the dark. It seems mean to keep the actors in the dark as well, especially seeing the reactions this episode has gotten and leaving the unkowing actors to perform crowd control, but then again, I don’t know the ins and outs of the television business. Look, as a self-proclaimed writer I get wanting to have that emotional gut-punch land with the audience, and it kind of sucks when people end up guessing it, but it should not outweigh the more crucial parts in telling the story.

TL;DR: The writers did so much in their power to keep Q’s death a secret that they sacrificed the integrity of the season, the audience’s trust and the significance of Q’s death.

Will I stop watching the show because of this? Probably not. I’ll still likely watch season 5 (just as I did when OUaT did this, even though all my favorite characters were gone) and I hope this next season is better. I am curious as to whar they’ll do next season and how they’ll make up for the void Q’s absence leaves.

I watch to reiterate that this is not the fault of Jason, Jade, Hale, Brittany, Olivia, Arjun, Stella, or any of the actors involved in the show. Please do not send hate to them. They don’t deserve it and do wonderful work on the show. Please don’t send hate directly to the writers either. Trust me, they know you’re upset, and they really don’t need to be bombarded with horrible messages. You are valid in your sadness and anger, just please avoid any harrasment of any of The Magicians staff.

I still can’t stop crying though.

[reallyiscrazy-a]

For the Mun ABOUT the Muse

< All answers under the cut because some people love to watch the world burn... Also might have deleted some questions cause I didn’t know how to answer them. >

What makes you the most emotional about your muse?

There’s a lot of things going on in current comics that have gotten me wanting to kidnap him and lock him in a box, but I won’t go into any of that. What makes me the most emotional is how badly this boy wants friends and a family and at every turn he is being shoved back into the darkness. Sure most of the time he does it to protect the people he cares about, but just once I’d love for someone to jump into it with him and be all ‘I’m here till the end’. Hell even just one of his family members to step up and be all: “we know you’ve got some serious issues and need someone to talk to. So how about we go and have some milkshakes and talk through stuff”. But of course he’s a member of the Batfam and they communicate with fists to the face. 

What made you decide to write this muse?

So a long time ago there was this comic book story line that came out. Batman: Under the Hood. The basis of it was that someone who KNEW the bats was causing hell throughout Gotham and starting to kill the mob. I grew attached to this sassy, snarky, devil may care attitude, bastard of a man known as the Red Hood. When it was revealed to be the Robin that I had first read in comics (Death in the Family still makes me cry okay), I knew I had to have him. I used him through out my various RP years, finally making my way here to tumblr like maybe eight years ago. I can’t really pin point the WHY I’ve kept him around as long as I have. He’s always been the loudest muse I’ve ever had. 

If you could change one event in your muse’s life (in their main or canon verse), what would you change?

Oh this is so easy it’s bad... His death. A vote of the people caused his death, and would result in the torment that he faces still today in comics. It all stems from that single vote back in the 80s when people sucked and only cared about how big their hair could get and how ‘cool’ they looked. This poor boy has suffered for all these years because some snot nosed man in his mom’s basement spam called the hotline to get Robin killed off. Congratulations you weasel, you were responsible for the death of a child and the torture and torment of his future self. Yes... I’m a bit salty.

If you could tell your muse one thing, what would you tell them?

I’d tell him that he can’t give up. He’s done horrible things sure, and people have turned their backs on him. But he will find someone (somewhere somehow) who will stick by his side. He doesn’t have to be and he won’t be alone for the rest of his life. 

If you could give your muse one gift, what would you give them?

Seeing as he’s been a crime lord and the son of a billionaire, there isn’t any material things I could give him that he probably doesn’t already have. What I’d give him instead is a hug and the reassurance that no matter what he does (or who he might kill), I’m still going to love him.

If you had to take one positive thing away from your muse, what would you take away?

I suppose the most positive thing about him is that he’s loyal as all hell (once he cares for a person). It doesn’t take too much to break his trust (after all look at how many times he’s had to deal with lying from his family). But yeah he’s very loyal and protective of the people he cares for. He’d even kill for them, which is actually not really positive (though I guess that depends on who you ask).

If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow?

Oh no. Nope. I wouldn’t borrow anything from Jason. I have enough issues as it is and I don’t really need any others. His skills with weapons and being very athletic would be cool, but I’d never be able to use either one. So yeah... he doesn’t have much I could borrow.

Do you genuinely want your muse to be happy? What do you think would make them most happy in life?

I do want to see Jason happy. He’s had such a shitty live and trash keeps getting tossed on top of him over and over again. It’d be super nice for him to be able to just kick back and look over things and be like: ‘yup... I’m happy with this’. What would make him happy? I think just having his family accept him would be a good start. Maybe having a best friend who didn’t turn on him the moment things got hard would be nice too... Just someone who loves him and accepts him for him. Hell just give this boy a friend at all and he’d be happy.

Do you enjoy putting your muse through angst? What do you think would break their heart the most?

.... This is a question? I love putting Jason through angst, and honestly it doesn’t even take that much to do it. His life is written like a bad angst fanfic. Abusive father, druggie mom, living on the street, death, torture, murdering people, being excelled from his family, having no friends, depression, attempted suicides... yeah... his life is an angst hole and I like tossing him into it every chance I get.

What do you love about your muse?

Oh where ever do I begin. Jason is intelligent, athletic, sassy, and murderous. He has a 'gives no shits’ type of attitude, and he’s a huge trouble magnet. He’s also got a huge heart buried under all that murderous rage. He isn’t a perfect person and has a ton of issues and problems that hinders him from being a “hero” and I just love that. I’ve always fell in love with characters that had issues to over come. Jason has a lot of those and more that pile on top of those ones. 

What do you hate about your muse?

He blames himself for everything. Even things that are out of his control. He piles on the blame on top of himself and it weights him down. He’s very self sacrificing as well, and sometimes I just want to shake him and tell him to STOP. Oh and he tends to push people away, even though he longs to have people close to him. He’s so afraid all the time of them getting hurt so his answer is to push them away, which in turn makes him more depressed and angry because everyone leaves him... Like dude, you do this shit to yourself... I really just want to wack him with a rolled up newspaper.

What about your muse amuses you?

It amuses me the most when Jason mouths off to people that he and I both know could totally kick his ass to the moon and back. He has died, he knows what death is like, and yet he goes running up to it and hugs it when he’s faced with it. Like: ‘what are you doing!?’ and at this point you just have to laugh because omg he has no self preservation at all!

What about your muse makes you sad?

The fact that he continues to push everyone he loves and cares about away, making him be alone forever and ever. He wants people in his life, yet at every turn he’s forcing them to make decisions that would make them leave him. Sure he does this to protect them, but it just hurts him in the end and it makes me heart ache for him.

How would you describe your muse to someone about to meet them, in person, for the first time? 

This is Jason my troublesome son. He died once, but he got better. He’s got a mouth on him but please don’t punch him in the face, even though he probably totally deserves it. Oh he was once Robin, but don’t mention Batman to him because he gets really angry and might go and kill someone. Also he hates clowns. Please don’t ask, it’s a very touchy subject. Also crowbars are a big no in his presence. 

Would you like your muse as a person if you met them in real life?

I would get very frustrated with him if I knew him in real life. The way he seems to hate himself and pushes everyone away, would really make me want to hit him. I think we’d get along though and I’d probably stick to him like glue. 

What aspect of your muse’s personality is most important to you? What aspect of your muse’s personality do you think is most important to them? Is it the same? Why or why not?

He has a moral code that he refuses to sway from. He won’t hurt women (unless they come at him first) and children are completely off limits. I think this is important to him too, and breaking this code would be the last straw for him. It’s what keeps him from thinking of himself like one of his targets.

If you had to judge your muse and sentence them to a “fair” fate, what would your judgement be? Would you punish them? Reward them? How?

Sadly I’d have to punish them. He’s a murderer. Even if he’s killing bad people, he’s still killing people. I think he needs help, mentally, and he should get that instead of sitting inside a jail cell for the rest of his life. Maybe sticking him in therapy and then a rehab of sorts would do him better. 

[a-walk-in-silence]

We Can Be Beautiful (Pt. 5)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Summary: Heathers AU. You were used to the quiet life in Sherwood, Ohio. Albeit, you were bullied, but it was nothing compared to the shit storm that was about to happen when one boy showed up with an air of mystery around him.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of date rape (n o t h i n g happens, I promise), underage drinking, implications of sexual activities (again, n o t h i n g happened), name calling, bullying, homophobia, manipulation, character death, gun-related violence, self flagellation

Prompt: “You’re the one I choose”

A/N: And here is Part 5 of WCBB! Woohoo! Halfway point! Yes! This is for @gab-spidey‘s 2k writing challenge! Honestly, I just wanna thank everyone for coming along for this ride and, again, thank you all so much! Here’s to the next few parts getting finished eventually! Once again, I’m reblogging suicide hotlines after this goes up. If you guys ever need to talk about something, my inbox and messages are open to the public and I will gladly talk to anyone who needs a shoulder to lean on. Thanks for reading! Also, just as a PS, the warnings are getting longer and longer and, hopefully, they’ll chill out for a bit in the next part (one can hope).

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Key:

Y/N - Your Name

L/N - Last Name

Y/N/N - Your Nickname

Italics - Writing in Your Diary

Bold Italics - Speech of Deceased

Song Inspiration(s):

Blue - Heathers Cast Recording

Blue (Reprise) - Heathers Cast Show Clip (turn up the volume on this one, it’s a clip recording and not the best audio wise but the song is important)

Our Love Is God - Heathers Cast Recording

You fingers silently drummed across your knee as you sat between people sobbing uncontrollably into their handkerchiefs. Try as you might, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at the open casket sitting at the front of the room, which, inside, contained the dead body of Natasha Romanoff. You couldn’t quite kick away the nagging voice in the back of your head, telling you that this was all your fault. And yeah, okay, it was.

You did kill her, after all.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the service came to an end. You quickly jumped to your feet and left the building, being one of the first to leave. However, unbeknownst to you, Peter had followed right behind you and grabbed your arm before you could get far.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, pulling your body towards him. You glanced up at him, trying to not lose your shit while standing in the middle of the small grass area in front of the church. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen in since school let out on Friday.” He brushed a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place behind your ear. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, offering him the best smile you could muster at the moment. “It’s just been weird, ya know? My parents have been hovering over me for the past week over the whole suicide thing.” You got onto your tiptoes and pressed a firm kiss into his lips. “I promise I haven’t been avoiding you. Just dealing with issues with Nat’s death, ya know?”

He opened his mouth to talk when a voice interrupted you. “Y/N!” your mother called, coming to your side. “Darling, how are you doing?”

“Hey, ‘Mora, come on. The girl just lost her best friend. I’m sure she’s doing great,” said your father, a sarcastic tone taking over, before smiling. “Say, who’s the fella?”

You shifted awkwardly on your feet before offering them a smile. “Mom, Dad, this is Peter Parker. He’s-”

“We’re kind of dating at the moment,” Peter said over you, quickly cutting you off before you could register what he even said. “It’s a little early on but it’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. L/N.” He held out a hand to the two of them, maintaining the worlds most purest smile.

Your mother raised an eyebrow at the both of you before cautiously taking his hand in a handshake. “Well, I’m Y/N’s mother.”

Your dad, meanwhile, gave the worlds most toothiest grin before grabbing Peter’s hand. “You’re a Peter? I’m a Peter! That’s really interesting that my daughter would go after a Peter, don’t ya think so, ‘Mora?”

“Peter Jason,” your mother said, clearly exasperated. “We’ll just head out, leave you two to... talk. I hope you can join us for dinner one night, Mr. Parker.”

With that, your parents left, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. With that, Peter turned towards you and offered his arm. “Come on, let’s ditch this place and go to my house. We can watch some TV, maybe unwind a little. Afterwards, I can take you home. I’m sure you need a moment to think.”

You gave him a thoughtful smile before grabbing his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders firmly. “Sounds good to me, anything to get me away from my parents for a little while.”

He chuckled softly. “Ya, they sound a little overbearing. And you dad is... very eccentric.”

“Mmm... That’s Peter Jason L/N for you,” you replied. “He’s always been a big joker and doing things just to confuse everyone around him. Recently, he picked up reading spy novels even though he hates him. He finds it funny. As for my mom, she had a rough childhood, so I suppose it’s understandable why she’s overbearing. Terrible stepdad and all that.”

Peter gave you a confused look, his eyebrow raised in question. “What happened with your mom’s side of the family?”

You sighed, leaning into his side as the two of you walked over to where Peter’s motorcycle was parked. “Her dad passed away while she was really young. Murder, never solved. Then her stepdad showed up, married her mom. And then she died a month later. My mom was left in his care with a crap ton of step-siblings, like my Aunt Neb. They all fought for his attention. She never really explained much outside of the sibling rivalry.” You shrugged nonchalantly. “Nobody’s life is ever perfect, and my mom’s is definitely not an exception.”

Peter plopped down onto his couch and you joined him, curled up into his side. He smiled down at you sweetly, wrapping an arm around you securely. “What should we do, darling?”

“Mmmm.... There’s always television. Maybe we can count how many news channels Sharon Carter went to, crying about Nat.” The two of you laughed for a moment, peaceful in your domesticated bliss.

Finally, Peter grabbed the TV remote and turned on the small box that sat in front of the couch. The two of you flipped idly through several channels, tallying how many were talking about Nat compared to how many had a sobbing Sharon.

Apparently, Sharon Carter had made it to no less than 10 news stations, one of which was a Spanish broadcasting station, where the only discernible words being Nat’s name and Corn Nuts.

“Alright, alright. Turn it off,” you laughed, pulling the remote from his hands. He pouted at you, acting wounded that you would ruin his fun, but didn’t fight you when you turned off the TV. “God, she has no shame,” you said, shaking your head in utter disbelief. 

“Hey dad, just got back from Nat’s funeral and I brought home my girl,” said the voice of Tony Stark, walking over to the two of you as you lounged on the couch. You quickly sat up, trying to hide the fact that you were clearly flustered to see him once again.

“Didn’t hear you come in, son,” Peter stated, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back into his side despite your obvious discomfort.

His dad only chuckled to himself. “Yeah, sorry about that, pa. How was work today?” He took only a beat of pause before going into a rant about his work. “I was working on a new invention today when some of those damn protesters showed up, complaining about how my weapons and such are not ‘environmentally friendly’. Those damn hippies act so damn entitled sometimes, it’s infuriating. This isn’t the damn 60′s anymore!”

“You mean those old broads that camped outside of the house last week?” Peter questioned, clearly not happy with the “old broads”.

“The same.” Tony snorted before sitting down on the arm of the couch, throwing a look in your direction. “Say dad, can my girl stay over for dinner tonight? I’m sure she’d have fun.” Both of them turned their attention towards you, waiting for your answer.

“O-Oh,” you said, trying to fill the silence. “My mom’s already got dinner plans. She’s, uh... making my favorite meal. Ya know, spaghetti. Lots of oregano. Tastes great.”

You wanted to slap yourself. Why did you make up such a stupid lie? Sure, okay, Peter and his dad had a weird bond with one another. And boy would it make life awkward. But you definitely didn’t have to lie like this.

Peter gave you a semi-forced smile, pulling you into his arms. “Really? That’s your favorite dinner? Remind me to make it for you one night. Sounds like something mom would have enjoyed, but last time I saw her, she was waving out a window in the lab from Texas. Isn’t that right, Dad?”

Tony gave Peter the worst look possible, mixed between a glare and a smile, and the look nearly made your heart stop. Several seconds of tense silence passed before Tony responded. “Right.”

“I-I should go.” Your interruption turned both of their gazes towards you. “My parents are probably worried sick and all so... ya know. I should head home.”

“No, of course. I’ll drive you home.” Peter hopped up off the couch and held a hand out to you. “I’ll be home whenever, dad.”

Tony only grunted in response. As Peter dragged you away, you couldn’t help the thought from creeping into your head. If you ever married this boy, you would most certainly not let his father talk at your wedding.

“Y/N! Phone for you!” your mother called from downstairs. You groaned, sitting up, not realizing that you had passed out shortly after Peter brought you home. You grumbled incoherently as you made your way downstairs to answer the phone.

“Hello?” you asked, rubbing sleep out of your eyes.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Jane asked, clearly upset.

Hearing how upset your friend, well, ex-friend, was, caused you to wake up. “Jane? What’s wrong? What happened?” You didn’t even realize you were rambling until she started talking again.

“Y/N, please shut up and just come down to the cemetery, please. It’s an emergency, and you’re the only one who can help us. Please...”

You pursed your lips together, throwing a glance at the clock that sat on the wall. 9:45 pm. Surely your parents would understand since it was an emergency. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there soon, just sit tight, alright?”

A reassured sigh came from Jane’s side of the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver. We’re by Heathers grave and we’re in Thor’s car. Please hurry.” With that, her end of the line went dead.

You placed the phone back on the receiver before turning to your mother, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, a displeased look settled on her face. “You’re heading out? Again?”

“Mom, it’s an emergency. Something might have happened. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, I promise.” Her lips pursed, clearly not impressed with your attempts to reassure her. “Mom, she could be in trouble. I swear, I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t an emergency.”

Finally, she sighed, motioning for you to wake past her. “Fine, go.” You gave her a smile and started to leave, but she stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Y/N/N,” she said, her voice softening. “You know I worry about you, right?”

“I know, mom, and I’m grateful. Truly, I am.” You pecked her on the cheek to prove it. “I’ll be back home before you and dad even know I’m gone. I promise.”

She smiled, a soft, barely noticeable smile, but it was still there nonetheless. “You’re a great kid. Go on, hurry back home, do I make myself clear?”

You nodded and gave her a final kiss on the cheek before leaving the house, running towards the cemetery that was, thankful, just two blocks down the street.

“Y/N!” Jane said, waving to you, her hand sticking out of the driver-side window of Thor’s cherry red sports car sitting in the grass of the cemetery. You approached the scene in front of you, slowly drinking it all in.

On the ground was Thor, face-down in the ground, looking as dead as a rock. There were a few rustles in a bush just about 30 yards away, but you quickly blocked it out, choosing to ask the obvious question. “Is... is Thor-”

“Yeah! He’s fine!” Jane quickly said, rolling down the window a bit so that she could look at you. “He’s passed out. So like, I came here with Thor and Bruce and Shar to pour a bottle of Thunderbird over Nat’s grave, kinda like a goodbye from her friends, ya know?” Her eyes glanced to Thor, passed out just a few feet in front of the bumper of the car. “Well, Thor and Bruce drank it all and... they’ve been really grabby. Shar went to try and get Bruce to calm down but-”

“Wait, wait, wait. Why did you call me then? After everything that happened at Bruce’s party, I figured-”

Awkwardly, Jane leaned back from the window, her fingers fiddling together. “W-Well... Thor promised to leave me alone if, ya know... I called you here. So I panicked and I called! I’m sorry!”

Your mouth dropped open in pure shock from her answer. “Wha- Jane! You... avoided date rape... by offering me up for date rape?”

She grimaced to herself, her fingers still fiddling together. “Well, when you put it that way it just sounds ugly,” she mumbled, clearly trying to make it to where she didn’t feel guilty about the situation.

“I’m leaving,” you muttered to yourself, turning to leave. However, Thor, who had previously been on the ground, was now on the hood of the car, smiling sweetly at you. “Heyyyyyyy Y/N,” he said, his words slurring together. “I waited for youuu cutie. 10 whole beers.” To further his point, he held up both of his hands, wiggling all 10 of his fingers towards you.

“Enough! I said I was fucking done, Bruce!” came a shout from the same bushes that you had heard rustling from earlier. Turning, you watched as Sharon emerged, brushing off her skirt as she stormed away, followed by a stumbling Bruce.

“But baby-” Bruce whined before spotting you. Quickly, a huge smile spread over his features. “Hey, lookie, it’s Y/N! Maybe she can help me find release.”

You physically grimaced, taking a step away from the two drunk jocks. “You both have left hands, can’t you use those instead?” you said, trying to bargain with the two of them.

“But I want youuuu,” Bruce slurred, leaning heavily on the hood of the car while Thor, meanwhile, gathered his wits and started to swagger over to you. “Come on, don’t hurt their feelings.”

“Their?” you questioned, taking another step away from the two as they tried to close in again.

“My balls!” Thor piped up, motioning to his pants where, unfortunately, a small tent was starting to appear. “They need relief from a pretty girl! Even a nerdy girl like you!”

“Yeah!” Bruce added, coming to stand a few feet from Thor, trying to corner you between the two of them. “They’re so blue for you, Y/N. My hands are rubbing like a cheese grater, it’s sooo uncomfortable. Please?”

Once again, you found a sour look sprawled over your face. “Shar, Jane, please let me into the car,” you shouted, even if you were being cornered in the opposite direction of the car. Maybe you could make a run for it. They were pretty drunk...

“Sorry!” Sharon shouted from the car. “The car’s staying locked while they can still get in!”

You looked around desperately for an escape before your eyes caught onto a glass bottle, half full of liquid and sitting haphazardly in the dirt, but the contents were very clearly booze. You managed to get past the two of them and retrieve the bottle, holding it up like an offering. “Look here, Thor and Bruce! Booze!”

The two of their faces broke out into huge, sloppy, shit-eating grins as they eyed up the bottle. “Thank you so much, Y/N!” Bruce shouted, practically running you over to grab the bottle.

“You’re so welcome!” you shouted, stepping away from the two as they fought over the liquid remaining in the amber bottle. Finding the situation perfect, you finally slipped away, up the hill that lead back to the main road.

As if a saving grace, a familiar figure was leaning against a black motorcycle. You sighed happily before letting his arms envelope you. “You look like hell,” Peter murmured, brushing a hand through your hair.

“How’d you know I was here?” you asked, snuggling your head into his black-clad chest. “I didn’t tell you-”

“Your mom told me. I called, asking for you, and she told me you went to the cemetery to save Jane from an emergency,” Peter replied, twirling a piece of his hair around his finger. “Figured it sounded fishy so I came to investigate to see you escaping from the cemetery.”

You shake your head, leaning into him. “I just want to go home, Pete. Can you drive me?”

His lips pressed against the top of your head. “Of course, beautiful. Just make sure you tell me what happened tomorrow at school, got it?”

A laugh escaped your throat as you looked up at him. “Yeah, okay. I promise.”

Dear Diary,

You could call last night a close call. Yeah, close call. Definitely would have ended differently if my mom hadn’t told Peter where I was or if I hadn’t of found that bottle just sitting there. I can’t help but think that Nat was the only person keeping Thor and Bruce in check, and now she’s dead. So now the school is defenseless to their libido.

“Having second thoughts, bitch?” asked a voice that caused you to tense. Following the voice was a fit of coughing. “You know, I blame you and your beau for the fact that I’ll be coughing up Drano for all of eternity. Do you feel guilty yet, Y/N/N?”

You grimaced to yourself before finally allowing yourself to look up from your journal. You could practically see Nat standing there, wearing her silk red robe that she died in. Her body was littered with cuts from the glass that she landed in, and her eyes were completely white.

Choosing to ignore the phantom now standing over you, watching you, you turned your attention back towards you diary.

I know I didn’t technically kill her, but I can’t help but feel like I did. I feel bad for it... but not as bad as I should. And that’s what scares me. Maybe that’s why I feel like she’s standing over me, dictating everything I do.

You glanced up from your journal again to find Sharon and Jane digging through Nat’s locker, clearing everything out into a box. Your hands balled up into fists as you slammed your diary shut and stalked over to them. “Hey, I hope you guys are planning on apologizing for acting like Grade A Bitches last night.”

“Hey,” Sharon said, turning around to point a finger into your chest. “We’re cleaning out Nat’s shit right now. Show a little respect, why don’t you?”

“Y/N, tell her to get her little slutty hands off of my crap,” said dead Nat, now standing right behind Sharon as she dug through her locker. “Y/N? Y/N/N, make her stop it now!”

“Shut up!” you shouted, clearly distressed from the voices filling your head.

A pair of hands shoved you roughly, dragging you back to Earth. You glared at Sharon who was practically seething in your direction. “No! I won’t shut up! Never again!” Her hands fumbled in her blonde hair, dragging out her bow and replacing it with Nat’s red scrunchie.

Jane grabbed Sharon’s arm, trying to stop her. “Shar, that’s Nat’s-”

An animal-like snarl came from Sharon, causing Jane to flinch away. “Shut up, Jane! Nat’s gone, and someone needs to replace her! And it’s going to be me so shut the fuck up!”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, staring at Sharon like she was crazy. Replace Nat? How could anyone want to ever replace her? “Shar, please don’t do this,” you mumbled.

A scoff came from the blonde as she turned her back towards you and pulled more crap from Nat’s locker. “Whatever. You should worry less about me and more about your reputation, bitch. Didn’t you hear? Thor and Bruce were talking about your little three-way last night.”

“Three-way?” asked the voice of Peter from right behind you, causing you to jump. You turned to look at him, and you couldn’t help but nearly cry from the look of pure pain that had etched it’s way across his face.

“No, Peter, please... There was no three-way! Nothing happened last night, I promise!”

“Really?” Sharon asked, slamming Nat’s locker shut, causing you to flinch once more. “I remember it differently.”

As if on cue, Thor and Bruce came walking down the hall with a boy, who you could briefly remember being named Clint, following them. “A sword fight? In her mouth?” Clint asked, his jaw completely slack at the idea.

“Oh yeah,” Thor said, smiling. “A big sword fight in her mouth! It was crazy crowded!”

“Yeah, but then, after the sword fight, we bent her over backwards like origami!” Bruce added.

Peter’s hands clutched into fists as he grabbed onto the back of Bruce’s jacket at his comment. You reached out to grab him, despite the tears threatening to spill over, but he was well out of your grasp. “Don’t talk about Y/N like that!”

Thor pushed Peter’s hands away, standing next to Bruce in a protective way. “Don’t complain when you’re girls a fucking slut-”

Peter’s fist connected with Thor’s face, causing him to fall back to the ground. However, before he could react, Clint was suddenly holding Peter’s arms behind his back, which left him open to be attacked by both Bruce and Thor.

“No! Stop!” you shouted, trying to push through the crowd that was starting to gather, but Sharon grabbed you forcefully, throwing a wicked smile towards you. You fought against her, but she had a death grip on both of your shoulders now.

“Stop this nonsense right now!” shouted the voice of Principal Fury as he pushed through the crowd. “Odinson, Banner, Barton, my office, now!”

The crowd dispersed just as quickly as it had formed. Meanwhile, Fury had to fight to remove Bruce from Peter while two other male teachers had to help in hauling off both Clint and Thor.

You went to walk over to Peter who laid prone on the ground, tears burning your eyes, when a hand suddenly grabbed you. You turned quickly to see Bruce smiling, a horrible glint in his eyes. “Whore,” he whispered before being dragged away.

Being called a whore was the final blow, and it made you finally break down in tears as you dropped to your knees in front of Peter, helping him sit up. ���P-Pete?” you mumbled, brushing his brown curls from his face to take it all in. His lip was split in more than one place, and a bruise was already starting to form on his cheekbone. You were sure there were more bruises if one looked at his arms and chest, but you weren’t about to look right now. “A-Are you okay?”

His arms wrapped around you tightly, and you could feel him shaking. “Y/N...” he mumbled, breathing into your hair. “How are you?” he asked, clearly ignoring your question.

“I-I’m okay,” you mumbled. “I... I’ve been called worse a-and... y-ya know, everything’s awesome.” You broke down in full sobs in the middle of the deserted hallway. For some reason, all of the teachers were long gone, and you and Peter were long forgotten. “I-I’m sorry for crying...” you mumbled, trying to bring yourself back together and failing miserably.

His hands brushed through your now messy hair, trying to soothe you. “You don’t deserve to cry,” he muttered, holding you tightly. “I swear, I will end this all. All of it, tonight. You...” He pushed you away until you were at arms length, looking into his brown eyes as he gave you the best smile he could muster. “You’re the only thing that’s right about this broken world.” His hand brushed a piece of hair behind your ear before cupping you face. “So cry, it’s okay. But come tomorrow morning... all of this will be long behind us, okay? Do you wanna know why?”

You slowly nodded, rubbing away the tears that were making trails down your face. “Y-Yes,” you mumbled, giving him a verbal confirmation to continue on.

“Because, Y/N, love like we have doesn’t come around often. Our love is special. Our love is God, and our love will fix all of this, okay?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “O-Okay,” you mumbled, allowing yourself to revel in the thought. Maybe he was right. Maybe your love was strong enough to stop it all, make all of the pain and misery just... go away.

Suddenly, a thought dawned on you. He never answered your question earlier. “P-Pete?” you asked, crawling back over to him and curling up in his arms. “You never answered me... are... are you okay?”

You glanced up to see him smiling down at you. “I always thought I would be alone, like... Like I was a frozen lake. No one would ever be dumb enough to try and go crack the ice, but... now I’m realizing that I’m not. I can feel myself getting better, and it’s because of you. Now... now I know that I’m not alone, never again. I won’t be alone because I’ll have you.”

“Yeah... we’ll never be alone,” you smiled softly, running your hands through his hair.

“Y/N...” he mumbled sweetly before pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I want to see you tonight. I’ll sneak over to your place, okay? Say around 8-ish?” A nod was all you could do to answer him, and he continued on. “Until then, we should probably get to class, yeah?”

And so, that’s what the two of you did after a quick stop by the nurse so that way you two had a valid reason for showing up late to class.

“So what’s the plan to get back at Bruce and Thor?” you asked, leaning closer to Peter as he sat on your bed.

He smiled before pulling out several items from a brown paper bag. “We’re going to fake their suicides,” he replied simply. “I’ve got our Stud Puppie magazine, a Joan Crawford postcard, mascara... Ah, and the piece de resistance, mineral water.”

You giggled, staring at him as he put the items back in the bag. “Yeah, so, what? Do you need a forged suicide note then?”

“And for you to make a call to the boys to go behind the school so that we can set up the joke,” he responded, grabbing your bedside phone and setting on your bed.

“But why are we going to such great lengths? I mean, how are we going to make it look like they’re dead?” You grabbed the receiver, ready to make the call once he explained it all to you.

He watched you for a moment before grabbing two guns from... somewhere. You physically flinched at the sight of the weapons. “Peter, I thought our Bonnie and Clyde adventures were done. I don’t-”

He placed a finger to your lips to silence you. “Relax, we’ll fill them with Ich Luge bullets.” At your confused look, he smiled. “They’re tranquilizer bullets. My granddad scored a shit ton back in World War II. The Nazis used them to fake their own suicides when the Russians invaded Berlin. The darts should knock Thor and Bruce out long enough to make it look like a suicide. Once they come to, they’ll be the laughing stock of the whole school.”

Still confused by the whole concept of Ich Luge bullets, you forced yourself to nod along with what he was saying. “Yeah, okay, makes sense,” you said, more to assure yourself than anyone else. “So, we need a suicide note.”

Peter nodded, grabbing your notepad so that you could write. “Just make it sound really sappy. Remember, it needs to sound believable. And you can pick whichever of the two you want to write for.”

Nodding, you turned your focus on your diary as you scribbled out a suicide note in Thor’s handwriting.

Bruce and I realized the moment that we could not share our forbidden love that we would have to die instead. Though we will miss the joy of being in each others arms, we cannot continue to live in a world where we have to act like beer-guzzling jackasses. Thus, we have chosen to die rather than live in a disapproving world.

“Look good?” You asked, showing the note to Peter.

He instantly broke out into a huge smile, carefully tearing the paper out of your journal. “Perfect,” he replied, folding it in half and adding it to the bag of goodies that sat on the edge of your bed. “Now we just need you to call Thor. Tell him to meet behind the school at dawn.”

Nodding, you quickly dialed the number to Thor’s house, crossing your fingers that he would be the one to pick up.

After a few rings, there was finally an answer. “Yeah-lo?” came the voice of Thor, and you had to fight the urge to sigh in relief at the fact that he was the one to answer.

“Hey, Thor?” you asked, twirling a piece of your hair around your index finger. “It’s Y/N. So... I was wondering... How did you and Bruce know it was always a fantasy of mine to take two guys at once?”

“Dude, dude!” said the muffled voice of Thor, clearly trying to get Bruce’s attention. “It’s Y/N!” You tapped your fingers against your knee, waiting for them to decide to talk. “So, uhhh, I guess it was a lucky guess?” Thor said, finally sounding clearer.

“Well...” you drawled out, throwing a look at Peter to see him laughing. You threw a pillow at him before continuing the conversation. “If you want it to come true... Meet me behind the school with Bruce. At dawn.”

There was a choking sound from the other end of the line before Thor started talking. “Yeah, uh-huh, sounds good.” Before you could hang up, you heard him practically shouting to Bruce. “Bro! Free pussy! And we don’t even have to buy it a pizza! Punch it in!”

You cringed to yourself before hanging up the phone. “They’ll be there,” you said, placing your phone back on your nightstand. “That was hell.”

Peter laughed, drawing you into him as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips before pulling away to smile down at you. “Y/N... our love is a powerful thing. We can start and finish wars.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, our love is what killed the dinosaurs. The world needed room for us.”

“You bet your ass it did,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “Hey, gorgeous.” You glanced up at him to see him staring at you seriously, yet his eyes were also filled with so much adoration. “I worship you, and everything that you are. I’d trade my life for yours if it was necessary to see you alive and happy...”

You pulled him into a kiss, silencing his words. He hummed in response, which was one of the few sounds made between the two of you for the rest of the night as you both eagerly awaited morning to put your plan into motion.

“So why did we steal your dad’s car again?” you asked as you both pulled into the school parking lot, just before dawn broke.

“The motorcycle’s great and all, but the car’s better for if we need to hide after our plan has been enacted.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not necessarily aware of why you’d need to hide if the bullets were just going to knock them out. Still, you didn’t question him and, instead, followed him out of the car and to the meeting spot.

You handed the bag of goodies off to Peter before grabbing the gun from him. “Just remember,” he said softly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “I’m just behind that tree right there. When we shoot, you try and shoot Thor and I’ll get Bruce, got it?” Accepting your tiny nod as an answer, he kissed the top of your head. “Alright, they should be here any minute now so I’m going to go hide.”

With that, you were left alone in the small little clearing just a few feet from the main road. You decided to make a circle that surrounded you in the dirt, pretending it was your safe zone that Bruce and Thor couldn’t cross if they wanted to.

The sound of approaching footsteps made you lift your head up from your feet to see the two jocks coming down the small slope, practically tripping over one another to make it to where you were.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bruce said, a bright smile filling his features. “How’re you doin’?”

“Bro, cut the small talk,” Thor said, slapping Bruce with the back of his hand. “Do we just whip out our dicks or what?”

You fought every impulse to shudder or cringe at Thor’s blunt words. You forced a playful smile onto your features, meeting his muddy brown eyes. “Take it slow, Thor. I want the two of you to strip for me.”

They both laughed, clearly excited by the prospect of stripping for you. Thor started to tear of his own clothes before remembering that you said to take it slowly. He looked physically pained by the notion of strip-teasing for you, but he still slowed his movements down.

Bruce, however, looked a little more confused. “What ‘bout you, Y/N?” he asked, slowly removing his jacket.

“Well...” you said, voice barely audible to the two of them, “I was hoping you could rip my clothes off me... sport.”

Sport? Sport? Was that really the best word you could come up with in the moment?

Despite the fact that you felt like a complete idiot by calling them sport, they still nodded along and stripped faster until they both stood in front of you in their underwear.

“On the count of three, you both can come at me and take off my clothes. Ready?” They nodded eagerly and you forced a smile. “One... Two...”

“Three,” said the voice of Peter, coming from behind the tree, gun raised. You grabbed your own gun and aimed at Thor, firing one of the Ich Luge bullets into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Peter hit Bruce right in between the eyes.

Thor screamed at being shot and tried to run away, but Peter fired another shot into his back, causing him to fall face-first into the ground.

You found yourself staring at Bruce, as blood pooled around him in the forest ground and you suddenly felt sick. You fell to your knees, cupping Bruce’s face. “Bruce? Bruce? Oh my god. Peter-”

Hands hauled you off the ground, pulling you away from the scene. “We have to go, come on,” he muttered in your eye, practically dragging you all the way back to the school. Practically frozen, you let him do so.

You just killed two more of your classmates. 

Once back in the car, you finally released all of your feelings all at once. “God! I’m so stupid!” you shouted as Peter started the car so that music was playing in the background. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grab a cigarette from his dads glove compartment.

Absentmindedly, you grabbed the lighter from the car, staring at the orange metal. Before you were even aware of what you were doing, the lighter was pressed into the palm of your hand, and you were screaming from the pain.

Peter quickly yanked the lighter away from your burning flesh before placing the end of his cigarette against your palm. You whimpered as he leaned back, his cigarette burning through the car.

“Fucking Ich Luge bullets? Why am I so stupid? Why would I ever believe such a stupid lie?” you mumbled, more to yourself than anybody else. You held your hand close to your body, trying to ignore the mind numbing pain that originated from your burnt hand.

“Maybe because you wanted them dead,” Peter said, earning him a glare from you. “Oh come on! Ich Luge bulelts? If something sounds too good to be true, usually it is! Don’t play so naive, Y/N! Your mind wanted to believe the bullets were tranquilizer bullets because your thoughts are too icky and impure. You wanted them dead just as much as I did.” With the end of his statement, he tossed his half-gone cigarette out the car window before turning his attention back to you.

“No I didn’t!” you shouted, clearly exasperated by his remarks. “No one deserves to die, Peter!”

“Yes you did! Don’t lie to me! They made you cry! Besides, they’re just a bunch of-”

You covered your ears with your hands, despite the pain it caused you, and started making random noises to block out his talking. He groaned in response and tried to talk louder, but you only matched him in volume until you both were practically screaming at one another.

“Enough!” Peter shouted, removing your hands from your ears and silencing you with a kiss. You pushed against him slightly, trying to fight the kiss before finally relenting to his lips and the sweet feeling of being enveloped in his strong arms. In fact, you even found yourself kissing him back despite the anger you felt boiling beneath the surface.

Once deeming you calm enough, his lips left yours, brushing the hair out of your face. “Come on,” he mumbled, lips a few inches from your own. “It’s already done, okay? So let’s just go somewhere. I’m sure they’re going to cancel class today anyway.”

You nodded slowly before you relaxed into the passenger seat of his dad’s car. Your mind whirled with thoughts, primarily ones centered around Bruce and Thor. Once again, someone was dead, and you helped cause it. You killed two people today, and now you had to pay the price.

“Peter?” you asked quietly as the two of you drove through the practically empty roads of the town. “Can we go and grab ice for my hand?”

“Of course,” he responded, looking visibly more relaxed and less on edge. “I’m sorry about your hand, by the way.”

Tags:

@gab-spidey @daringbanshee @genzbitch @youreafangirl-harry @thedaydreamingwriter @starksparker

[csnews]

Whale rescued from Indian Shores beach dies during rehab

Daniel Figueroa IV - August 10, 2018

A rarely spotted melon-headed whale found on the beaches of Indian Shores last month died during rehabilitation efforts, rescuers said.

The 8-foot long adult male melon-headed was being treated by SeaWorld Orlando’s rescue operation team at a facility separate from the parks, said Jon Peterson, manager of SeaWorld Orlando’s rescue operations. Peterson said the animal was a fighter, showing early signs that he might make it back to the wild. Tests, however, revealed that the whale had parasites in its brain. It was too late.

"Once we got him in the water and we took hands off him for minute, he wanted to swim," Peterson said. "He was actually pretty strong."

Peterson said rescuers worked around the clock. After two weeks, though, the initial signs of strength faded to lethargy. The whale wouldn’t eat on his own and could barely breathe. Quality of life was nearly non-existent, Peterson said. The whale was euthanized on Aug. 3 around 3 a.m., just over two weeks after he was rescued.

Bonnie Charity was in tears as her husband held her Friday morning in their Largo home. It was Charity who gave the whale, which she named Sandy, his best shot at survival.

Charity found Sandy just after 6 a.m. on July 20 while on her daily walk along the beach. First, she thought she saw a palm frond, then she saw what it was and maternal instincts kicked in.

"I got attached pretty quick," she said. "He was my baby. My whale baby."

Charity and another passerby, Jason McCarty, held Sandy in the shallow surf for more than an hour as rescuers from Clearwater Marine Aquarium came, keeping his blowhole above water and his body stable.

Rescuers arrived around 7:30 a.m. and were able to get Sandy of the beach just after 10 a.m. He reached SeaWorld 90 minutes later and was immediately tended to by vets. Though Sandy seemed like a good candidate for rehabilitation, the odds, Peterson said, were against him.

"We’ve done rehab on melon-headed whales before. Unfortunately, melon-headed whales don’t do well in rehabilitation," he said. "You don’t know why (it was stranded), you don’t know the cause so you’re sort of behind the 8 ball when you start."

Melon-headed whales are a deep-water species native to the further reaches of the gulf. They’re rarely ever sighted near beaches and when they are, it usually means trouble for the animal. Of the few melon-headed whales Peterson has attempted to rescue, he said, none have made it back to the wild. Still, he’ll always try.

"Every animal in need, we’re gonna do everything we can possibly try to do," he said. "Just because we haven’t had a good success rate, doesn’t mean this animal doesn’t get to try."

At SeaWorld, Peterson said there is a large focus on rescue, rehabilitation and return to wildlife. Peterson has a 14-person rescue team, plus 150 zoological researchers available from the park and an extended network through SeaWorld’s other facilities.

"I’m sure they did try everything and I’m sure they did the best they can," Charity said, fighting back tears. "It’s not the ending I was hoping for, but I knew it as a possibility."

Despite the outcome, Charity is glad she was able to help. She said the experience changed her life and was among the top-five experiences of her 61 years. Though the loss is difficult, the experience was profound. And if she the chance to do it again, she said she would.

"I’m incredibly sad. I so wanted him to live, but I always knew it would be a chance. I’m glad SeaWorld took care of him and I hope they made sure he didn’t suffer in the end," Charity said. "But I’ll still be out there and I’d still save another whale if I could."

Michelle Kerr, of the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, said people should never push beached animals back into the water and should always be cautious around wildlife.

"Stranded marine mammals can be sick or injured, and may be capable of powerful and unpredictable moves," Kerr said. "Pushing an animal back to sea delays, and may hinder, the chance for experienced rescue teams to assess and provide treatment if necessary — and in some cases may cause injury or death of an animal."

Anyone who finds a stranded animal on shore is asked to contact the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission’s alert hotline at (888) 404-3922.

Peterson said the whale’s sickness was unrelated to a recent rash of Red Tide in the Gulf of Mexico.

[theridiculouspanda]

Jason Bull x Reader: You’re Going To Be Okay

Request: This is for @novoagonzalezana “If you know Bull (cbs), ¿can you make a story where the reader, a member of the team, is in an abusive relationship and Bull, along with the rest of the team, discover it, please? Sorry if my english is wrong.”

A/N: I only really put Bull in the fic because I felt like it was such a touchy subject, and that the intimacy of the moment should be shared between two individuals, I feel like it build character. If anyone is suffering Domestic Abuse here is a hotline number to talk to someone 1-800-799-7233...But ANNNYWAAAYS ThaNKs SOoOoo MUch FoR MY FriST rEQUesT Fic!!!!! I hope you enjoy, and I hope this is what you were looking for!!!:)<3<3<3<3(AND PLEASE, TO ANYONE SEND IN REQUESTS, PLEASE!!!)P.S. I<3FeedBack.

Fandom: Bull

Characters:Jason Bull, Danny James, Mason(Dick Boyfriend)

Warnings: Angst with happy endings, Domestic Abuse

Word Count: 737

Pulling the sleeve of your turtle neck sweater down further on your arms, you sigh. You hated when you had to hide the bruise the plagued your body. But it was your fault that your boyfriend hit you(That’s what you told yourself at least). You’ve been spending too much time at work and he thought you were cheating. Mason accused you of sleeping with Bull, your colleague and friend. You weren’t that type of person though. Sure, you had felt something towards Bull, but you never dared to think about pursuing anything.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Danny smiles as she hands you a mug of hot coffee. You take a sip and quietly thank her. She knew you weren’t acting like yourself, you’ve been withdrawn lately. Losing weight. Your usual form fitting clothes had grown baggie.

“Sorry, I need to go meet Bull for the mock trial today. Bye Danny,” you say. She was worried about you, everyone was. You stopped being the loud, charming, happy person that drew the team in, in the first place. You flinched when there were loud noises, or when someone suddenly puts there hand up. Everyone knew there was something wrong but they couldn’t put the pieces together. You even stumped Bull(Or so you thought).

You walked into the mock court room expecting to see the mirror jury, but you only saw Bull.

“Hey, where’s the jury?” you question, giving the best fake smile you could muster.

“Sit down,” he says pointing to the witness stand. You place your mug on a nearby table.

“Okay?” you furrowed your brows together. You walk over and sit down.

“Where is the jury, Bull? We need to do our jobs,” you sigh. You look at Bull to see him analyzing you. His intense gaze makes you start to sweat. It felt like you were on trial for murder. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. It’s summer why the hell are you wearing this freaking shirt. You push your sleeves up to your elbows in hopes of cooling yourself down, momentarily forgetting the black and blue marks on your arms. Bulls eyes drop to your arms and then you follow his gaze, quickly pulling your sleeves down again. Covering yourself.

“Y/N,” Bull whispers walking up to the stand. You avoid eye contact and cross your arms over your chest.

“Look at me baby,” Bull says softly. It wasn’t uncommon for him to use pet names for you. People who know Bull would be baffled at how uncharacteristic he was with someone who he wasn’t intimate with. Bull reserved these pet names for when it was just the two of you. It gave you something to hold onto. He places his hands on the wood slowly leaning closer to you, but not to close. He still kept his distance he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. He could tell you didn’t want to talk about this. You turn your head towards him, still not looking into his hazel orbs. Slowly but surely you meet his eyes.

“Y/N, it was Mason right?” he asked, but you knew it wasn’t a question. Of course he already figured it out, he’s Jason freaking Bull. You let out a shaky breath.

“Did he hit you, baby?” he asked. He knew by your body language the answer. You tried to choke back a sob, but the intensity of the moment didn’t let you hold back. The happiness, the hope, the gratitude you feel because the truth was finally out. You loved Mason but you need to save yourself from his deadly grap.

He walked around and slowly wraps his arms around you as you sob into him. He hums one of your favorite songs as he rocks you back and forth slightly. Holding you, comforting you, being there for you.

“I need help, J. I’m not strong enough. I don’t know what to do,” you said once your sobbing had slowed. Bull just started to rub your back.

“I’m here for you, baby. Everything is gonna be okay,”

“You’re going to be okay, I promise” Bull continued, emphasizing each word, while gripping your shoulders looking into your eyes. You slowly nodded your head, sniffling.

It may be hard and take some time to let go of what happened to you, but if you had Bull by your side you could get through it. You two could get through anything.

[microcos-pod]

Bonus Episode #2 - Spring Cleaning

(Dr. Emily Macey does a bit of tidying up.

Transcript begins below break.)

MARSHA Have fun with your Spring Cleaning, Emily!

EMILY Thank you, Marsha.

MARSHA And a lovely weekend!

EMILY You, too, dear.

MARSHA S- OH! That's right!

[Emily hums in confusion.]

MARSHA (CONT'D) Nearly forgot! I was told to remind you on behalf of Ms. Lacount that your voicemail is full? May want to take care of that among your other chores, just to be sure. Because... Well, you know how she can be.

EMILY I certainly do... I'll put it at the top of my list.

MARSHA Thanks, dollie.

I've gotta get going now, I don't wanna be late. Jeanette said she'd be waiting outside on that new motorcycle she got last week, and well, I'll say those wheels aren't the only thing that's smokin-

EMILY Yes, thank you, you'd better be off, then.

MARSHA Right. You have a fabulous night, now, I'll see you Monday!

[sfx: retreating high heeled footsteps, sorting through a drawer]

EMILY Night's agenda...

Send organized files down to the archive... respond to Octavia's email... reach out to the decommissioning floor about the recent faults in their performance reviews... sweep... mm.

Voicemail it is. Let's see...

[sfx: button press]

RECORDED EMILY You have reached Head of Mission Oversight, Dr. Emily Macey, at Omni-Corp Headquarters. Clearly, I couldn't answer your call right now, but if you leave a message I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible. If there’s an emergency, the Omni-Corporation hotline is 1-4-3-5-5-3. You should be able to find what you're looking for there. If you wish to schedule an appointment with me, the number you're looking for is that of Mrs. Marsha Francis, which can also be found upon calling the hotline. Thank you. And... work well.

[sfx: beep]

VIOLA  Good evening, Emily! You have 15 missed messages.

Monday, January 25th, 1:29 PM.

[sfx: beep]

CHARLOTTE Dr. Macey, I really wish you would pick up right now. I am currently speaking with your... associate. Mx. Abbott has once again taken to interrupting my recording of the new advertisement, saying they had simply... forgotten what day it was. And although I am quite sure you took the time to inform them that the area was in use, I would take kindly to any help you could offer to keep them... out of my hair as I try for a fourth time to record this commercial. Thank you in advance. Work Well.

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Monday, January 25th, 1:30 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES Hey, Em. I just got shooed out of the corridor by Charlotte again. Bull if you ask me- I mean, who records some big important announcement in the middle of the hallway?

Regardless, she said she was gonna call you if I didn't scram so, knowing she'd call you anyways since I'm just a child in her... weird, silvery eyes... I figured I'd just check in. It wasn't my fault though, okay? She just... I thought she was being nice, right? Like I walked in, clearly upset and she said in that voice, you know the one, "If it isn't Mx. Abbott. What in the world can I do for you?"

I mean, you know how she can sound sometimes! How was I supposed to know it was sarcasm? I didn't realize she could do sarcasm!

So... I thought she really wanted to know, and... listen, it isn't my fault, alright? I mean, the only reason I was so upset and out of it in the first place was because of that new guy they just hired. Justin... Jared... Whatever his name is...Jason. That's the one. Well, anyways, he storms into my workspace talking about "time management" and "team effort" and was just going on and on and on... And the whole time I'm sitting there messing with my keyboard, and he's just not getting the hint, right? And I'm tuning him out and thinking, 'god who does this guy think he is?' And I don't do anything because of course-

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Monday, January 25th, 1:32 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES Damn recorder cut me off. Anyways, probably too long of a story to tell over the phone, so can we maybe get lunch? Something? I dunno, when are you free? Call me back.

Never mind, you haven't checked your voicemail since the dinosaurs... I'll just call your cell.

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Tuesday, January 26th, 9:15 AM.

[sfx: beep]

MARSHA Emily your 9:30 just rolled in early. Oh god, you're not gonna listen to this are y-

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Tuesday, January 26th, 10:08 AM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES Morning, Em! Hope you had a good breakfast... got some good coffee... I was just hoping to see you today? I don't know if you listened to the voice mail I left on your cell, but... I'd still be down for lunch if you're not too busy? Just give me a call... or just stop by the AI floor and I'll take a break.

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Tuesday, January 26th, 5:37 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES I had a really great time at lunch today! Thanks... thanks for the food... and... and the talk. It was really nice. I lo-. Nope. Jesus, Miles. Nope. Sorry. By-

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Friday, January 29th, 11:53 AM.

[sfx: beep]

MAN I hope your morning is finding you well, dear Doctor. Hopefully you're feeling well rested enough to get those reviews over to me, finally. And I know you're very busy, but so am I, and I still manage to get my work done in a timely manner. It's been a full day now, and I'm beginning to grow impatient. We have a mission to launch in a little over a month, now, and any delays will not be tolerated. Get those updates to me by the end of the day. I trust you won't let me down, Doctor Macey.

Again.

[sfx: beep, a click] EMILY Oh, for God’s sake...

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Wednesday, February 10th, 1:24 PM.

[sfx: beep]

ARCHIE Hello there, Dr. Macey and Dr. Macey's voicemail! It has been sooo long since I last heard from you! Looks like... We're going on 16 hours and 34 minutes. Sad. Missed you dearly.

[sfx: Jiminy makes the sound of an audience sighing sadly]

ARCHIE (CONT’D) As did Jiminy.

[sfx: Jiminy makes an affirmative beep]

ARCHIE (CONT’D) Now, I know what you're thinking: "Archie, my beloved, dearest, most amazing friend down at Public Affairs, why ever could you be calling instead of walking down to Mission Oversight and gracing me with your amazingly talented presence?" 

And while, yes, I'm ever so flattered, Emily, I simply do not have the time, as Mr. L has just saddled me with this new project he wants me to advise. Yuuuuck, I know.

[sfx: Jiminy plays the sound of descending, disappointed trombone]

ARCHIE (CONT'D) So, to keep this short and sweet, just wanted to remind you that you, yes you, our lucky winner-

[sfx: Jiminy begins a drumroll]

ARCHIE (CONT’D) - are, in fact, in charge of sending out corporate invitations for this weekend's Valentines' party!

[Archie cheers.]

[sfx: Jiminy plays the sound of party poppers and a cheering crowd]

ARCHIE (CONT'D) Yes, yes, all 132 of them! How fun!

Oh, and maybe bring some of that expensive champagne that Constantine gave you back in Janurary to share with your old pal Archie, too, while you're at it? Pleeaase?

Mm. Well, that's all, then! See you there, friend! Work well!

[sfx: Jiminy chirps a goodbye]

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Tuesday, February 16th, 12:23 PM.

[sfx: beep]

FELIX Hello, Dr. Macey. Just calling to ask for a bit of help. I've just gotten these new samples into the laboratory, and I'm afraid I'm not sure on whether they're up to... Mr... Lacount's standards. I thought it might be best for another pair of eyes to look over the work I've done on them, and I'd very much appreciate any insight you'd have, as Head of Mission Oversight. Ahhh... thank you. Yes. Please get back to me... I am... very worried about this. Thank you so much.

[sfx: beep, a click]

EMILY Oh, Doctor...

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Thursday, February 19th, 2:45 PM.

[sfx: beep]

CHARLOTTE Good afternoon, Doctor Macey. Ms. Lacount has instructed me to tell you that she is... "So sorry she was unable to attend your little Valentine's Day get together." 

EMILY (overlapping) Of course.

CHARLOTTE (CONT’D) She also apologizes for the late apology. Thank you for your time! Work well!

WOMAN Charlotte, darling, would you mind contacting my cousin about the-

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Wednesday, March 3, 7:16 PM.

EMILY March... 

[sfx: beep]

[Emily sighs.]

[sfx: banging pots and pans, kitchen sounds on the line]

MARSHA Hi, just checking in that you know Mr. Wright is coming to see you tomorrow morning? He just called to ask me if you knew and I told him yes, of course, obviously! Because, of course, I didn't wanna say anything that might get you in trouble, but I didn't actually know if you knew that he knew that you probably didn't know that he was stopping by. So I just figured I'd remind you?

You know, actually... I'm kind of wondering how he got my personal phone in the first place? Is that something you have listed on a file he's got access to?

Oh, not that it's a big deal or anything! Just that we're in the middle of making dinner is all and-

Oh god, we were in the middle of making dinner. I've gotta go Emily, my marinara's gonna burn if I don't get back to it and Jeanette's gonna tease me about it. Oh god, I've never not burned the sauce, it was gonna be the one time I got it good. I always tell her, I've got it this time and- you know you don't need to hear this, and I've gotta go, I was just letting you know.

EMILY Marsha, Marsha, Marsha... 

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Thursday, March 4th, 10:23 AM.

[sfx: beep]

MARSHA He's um... He's here Em. Looks real important and everything, checking his watch and things. Hope it goes well.

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Friday, March 5th, 2:51 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MAN Dr. Maaacey...

Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk ... I've told you time and time again, just because you wish to spend your time playing Mummy with Petty Officer Abbott in AI does not mean you can-

[Emily sighs heavily.]

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Monday, March 8th, 3:26 PM.

[sfx: beep]

CHARLOTTE Good afternoon, Dr. Macey. Mr. Wright has asked me to inquire about the follow up you two discussed upon his visit. He was hoping you could provide him an update on Otis's situation with any new information you have as soon as you are able. We both thank you in advance. Work well!

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Wednesday, March 24th, 2:28 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES Hey... Emily. So... guess we're leaving tomorrow.

Yeah, you know that already, Jesus, sorry, I'm just... I'm... I'd just like to see you one last time before we leave, I guess... if you... have a minute...

I'd just like to say goodbye before I leave... Call me back.

VIOLA End of cataloged voice mails. Would you like to play again or delete?

Emily? Please press 1 if you'd like to play again, press 2 if you'd like to delete, or press 3 if you'd like to-

[sfx: beep, typing]

EMILY Done with that chore, I suppose.

***

[THEME MUSIC FADES IN]

ANNOUNCER Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast.

This bonus episode, Spring Cleaning, was written by Luka Miller and Jesse Smith, edited by Jesse Smith, and directed by Jesse Smith, Luka Miller, and Lauren Tucker. It starred Lauren Tucker as the voice of Dr. Emily Macey, Luka Miller as the voice of Marsha Francis, Jackson Rossman as the voice of Miles Abbott, Kaleb Piper as the voice of Felix Couvillion, Ventus as the voice of Anonymous Caller, Griffin Berlstein as the voice of Archie Armstrong, Val West as the voice of Charlotte, and Lark Ophelia as the voice of Emily's personal AI: Viola, with additional voices by Briar Zachary. Original music by Julia Barnes, and sound editing by Jesse Smith.

Be sure to stay tuned to our feed for upcoming episodes from the new backpacking intergalactic adventure from Futuristic Trail Mix Productions.

Enjoying the show, and want to give us a boost? You can support us by rating and reviewing us on iTunes, or wherever you get your podcasts, or telling a friend about us.

We'll be returning from our hiatus shortly. Episode 6 of Micro-Cosmos, Flowers in the Storm, will be released on June 21.

To follow the show and find transcripts, you can find us on Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram as @MicroCosPod. Questions, comments, and concerns can be emailed to us via futuretrailmixpros@gmail.com.

Thank you for listening. [THEME MUSIC FADES OUT]

***

[torentialtribute]

MARTIN SAMUEL: Strauss lost the right to lecture counties when he gave England job to an Aussie

Very polite, most cricket people. That is the only explanation for how Andrew Strauss could protest with the provinces about the absence of English coaches in The Hundred, without being challenged.

After all, who made the Australian coach of England? That was Strauss in his previous role as director of cricket for the ECB. And if England, with 142 years of Test cricket behind them, has no faith in an Englishman, why should Manchester Originals, Trent Rockets or other franchises still throw a ball?

Like another Australian, Tom Moody, takes over the leadership of Oval Invincible as expected, meaning that the Englishman has found a job as head coach in the eight teams that make up The Hundred. Including Moody there will be five Australians (Shane Warne, Simon Katich, Darren Lehmann and Andrew McDonald), and one each from South Africa (Gary Kirsten), Sri Lanka (Mahela Jayawardene) and New Zealand (Stephen Fleming).

Andrew Strauss threw the counties about the absence of English coaches in The Hundred

Although this corresponds to the cosmopolitan nature of the competition and the success of T20 club competitions abroad, it also amounts to a miserably serious failure within the ECB. Warne is not even a coach for God's sake. Lehmann was the head of an Australian regime that has now been discredited.

It could be argued that the counties should have looked elsewhere, but it is not up to them to produce talent. Good coaching is the product of a strong national system, from which provincial opportunities arise. If England doesn't have a coach that is worth a carat, this has about as much to do with the Peaky Blinders as the Northern Superchargers, who barely got a breath before they take the blame.

Strauss, whose triptych shortlist will compete in 2015 against Trevor Bayliss against his Australian countrymen Tom Moody and Jason Gillespie. And nobody claims that Bayliss did not do well. His record in the white-ball game won him the role and with England he won the first World Cup this summer he more than delivered. But that alone does not justify the appointment.

The club game can only be influenced by national events. Undoubtedly, the recruitment of the football association with Sven Goran Eriksson started a process that culminated in even mid- or lower-ranking Premier League clubs watching abroad. And what about the successor of Bayliss? The man who is now in Strauss & # 39; shoes offers no guarantees.

"It would be nice to have an English coach, but we have to get the best guy," said Ashley Giles. Chris Silverwood, one of Bayliss's current assistants and born in Yorkshire, is also being considered, perhaps also Paul Collingwood.

However, this time it is fair to say that the ECB owes English coaches. Via Strauss they conveyed the message that graduates from the domestic game were not suitable for the highest level.

They can hardly be surprised when their newly minted franchises, with so many of the county's future financial cricket, come to the same conclusion.

Athletics do not contribute to running or maintaining the London Stadium, but it costs £ 4 million to the taxpayer every time the seats are reconfigured for a summer meeting.

It was hoped that there would be respite in 2022, by then the upgraded Alexander Stadium in Birmingham will be open for the Commonwealth Games. It is being expanded to 40,000 with work to be completed in the winter of 2021 for an amount of around £ 70 million. Yet at least £ 4 million is saved annually.

West Ham should be free to buy London Stadium when it is Alexander Stadium is ready

Apparently not. British Athletics have indicated that they are still planning to organize annual meetings in London, so a further £ 4 million in conversion costs will be incurred. But the turnout for these events – the Anniversary Games, which go back to a glorious night in 2012 – is declining.

British athletics gave this year's gate 40,000 over two nights, but this includes many guests. For comparison: West Ham receives 19,000 for the fun day from their fans. Once the Alexander Stadium is completed, it should be the home of British Athletics. West Ham would then have the freedom to buy the London Stadium, take it off the government bill, and really take it home.

Checkout? Kyrgios is a British twerp

Who knows what Nick Kyrgios – & # 39; the world's most tiring sportsman – has in store for the US Open next week. Swearing? Spitting? Abuse the referee? Tanking? Perhaps a row with an obvious multiple? It's all on the table. Great tennis? Unlikely.

Kyrgios is spoiled with the myth that he is a box office. But what's great about watching a player wasting his potential? Where is it nice to hear him abusing better men, who are not in a position to answer back, let alone to climb down from the referee's seat and confront this British little Antwerp with the truths he earns?

If Kyrgios stopped acting, he should play well. And if he treated his sport and his talent with respect, he might find out that he is not as good as his giant ego believes. Kyrgios calls Novak Djokovic, Kyrgios calls Rafael Nadal. What does it matter? What matters is the result and Kyrgios has won only one match against the big four.

What is entertaining to see a player like Nick Kyrgios wasting his potential?

He has played Nadal, Federer and Andy Murray – never Djokovic – seven times in slams and achieved a lonely win over Nadal in Wimbledon five years ago. Murray has confronted him with all four slam events and Kyrgios won a lonely set in 13. He lost in straight sets from Federer at the US Open and his most recent encounter with Nadal, this summer, ended in four.

Kyrgios is common in the biggest competitions. He has played in 25 slams and has never gone deeper than two quarter-finals: 13 times in round one, two or qualifying; seven times in round 3.

So if your idea of ​​fun is bad tennis, played with an inexplicable sense of justice, then Kyrgios might be your idea of ​​a superstar. For most, he is a crushing drill.

Pogba & # 39; s ego blamed it … but it is Ole who looked at a mug

Quite handy for Ole Gunnar Solskjaer who reports from his anger behind closed doors, after Het Manchester United straffiasco at Wolves on Monday. Up to that point he started to look a bit soft.

Solskjaer's occupation was always, in part, that he was not Jose Mourinho. He wasn't dark, he didn't leak under the surface, he wasn't manipulative. He was a good, sincere Manchester United hero, with a smile, a cheerful, cheerful attitude and a helpful hotline for Sir Alex Ferguson.

Yet he looked at Molineux for a mug. How can a team of ambition know who their penalty taker is before the kick-off – especially now that football is ruled by VAR? How could Solskjaer have made it clear that the execution of Marcus Rashford is now superior and preferred?

Yes, there is the ego of Paul Pogba. That one man who had missed three of his last eight should even argue with Rashford – regardless of who won the penalty – says many of his team player mistakes. Still, Solskjaer invited that ego to overwhelm the moment if he didn't make it clear before the game that Rashford was now the go-to penalty. In any case, mention a book in case Rashford is not available, but that should be the case. Instead, Pogba spoke the younger man out, and missed, and Solskjaer then had the non-enviable task of defending him.

It later turned out that Solskjaer seemed privately mastered and took Pogba from future punishment duties. . He also has the support of the team. It all sounds pretty handy, it protects the manager's image and puts the blame on Pogba again. In the end, however, it is Solskjaer's task to manage, especially the players with a lot of maintenance in situations with a lot of maintenance. All indications suggest that it did not happen on Monday until it was much too late.

If there was anything positive about the rejected Manchester City goal last weekend, then it was the sight of all those who play that they are adults only in the village and are exposed as cheaters, former referees and many hipsters who told grinning critics that if they had just paid attention in the summer, they would know it was VAR judgment was correct.

They also seem to know the handball rule delightfully. Kevin De Bruyne, the Manchester City player who complained most bitterly, was smugly concluded as an ignorance by people who had cleverly taken over as Ian Holloway.

Of Bruyne's only mistake, fully accepting the official explanation was why the purpose of Gabriel Jesus was not allowed, while it was wrong and based on a fake interpretation.

Van Bruyne was told that every handball in the construction of a goal is a violation, while the rule actually reads: & # 39; It's a violation if a player gains possession / control of the ball after it touched his hand / arm and then creates a target channel. & # 39;

Yet Aymeric Laporte had no way of gaining control or possession of his can deflection, and when the ball ended up with Jesus, he still had to beat several Tottenham players to score. So it is not the law that is a ** but VAR as applied in this country. The error is, as always, human. We have been told that the nods will disappear in VAR, but common sense must prevail for that. There is little evidence to date.

Kevin De Bruyne has been informed that every handball in the run-up to a goal is a violation

Zinedine Zidane has gone from trying to force Gareth Bale from Real Madrid to make him part of his plans for the first team. Most likely Bale is on borrowed time until Eden Hazard is fit.

Still, he performed well against Celtic Vigo and at least he seems to have played in the team. These are the only conditions on which staying with Madrid makes sense. He is far too good and at the age of 30 too young to slip into Chinese backwaters or play for a team outside the elite. Yet Zidane must continue to give him a chance. An even worse option than mid-table or points east would be to sit, unused and unloved, in the stand.

Oliver proud to be Irish until he failed

Oliver Norwood is the captain of Sheffield United in the Premier League. That is a big responsibility and an enormous amount of effort is required. Sheffield United will not survive this season without getting the most out of every member of Chris Wilder & # 39; s team and Norwood is huge for them. It is his first season as a Premier League footballer and the immediate victim is his international career. This week, after 57 caps, he called it a day with Northern Ireland.

Michael O & Neill, his manager, said he made a big mistake. Former player Jim Magilton thinks he will regret it. David Healy, now Linfield's manager, added that the decision evokes faith. Healy could play international football at the same time, Healy insisted. Even Steven Davis did it, Jonny Evans, Gareth McAuley, Craig Cathcart. Even before, players like Neil Lennon, Steve Lomas and Keith Gillespie both did. I did it myself. & # 39;

Do you see anything about that list? All mentioned players are from Northern Ireland. Davis, Evans, McAuley, Cathcart, Lennon, Gillespie and Healy were born there. Lomas was born in Hanover, Germany, but only because his father was in the army. When he was two years old, he lived in Coleraine. Norwood is from Burnley.

Central midfielder Oliver Norwood is captain of Sheffield United in the Premier League

He played for England at the level of Under 16 and Under 17, and then re-appeared in the teams of Northern Ireland from Under 19, and has remained with the country ever since. He qualifies through his grandfather and is a loyal pillar of the O & # 39; Neill team.

Last season, Norwood made himself unavailable for the first four qualifications of the European Championship – and now this. The problem with allowing players to change their nationality is that it makes international football into a jacket that can be tried to measure and thrown away if it doesn't fit.

Norwood was undoubtedly very proud to be Northern Irish – until he felt more proud to play in the Premier League.

Four games in and still no wins for the new Anderlecht-boss Vincent Kompany. After a defeat at home in Ostend on the opening day and a draw with Mouscron and Mechelen, on Saturday brought a 4-2 defeat in Kortrijk, with the player-coach guilty for three goals.

Kompany is an Anderlecht legend and will undoubtedly have time in his first job, but keep it up and a television studio and Super Sunday cannot be far away.

Nobody watches Belgian football here anyway. It will be as if it never happened.

Source link

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

“When You Least Expect It”

New Series Sneak Peek

Jensen x Musician!Reader

A/N: This is just a little preview of a story I’ve been working on for a while, just sort of in the background. Since no other fics were cooperating, I thought I’d post a little preview of this one. A big thank you to my girl @closetspngirl​ for help with the title, and then some. <3

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him.

What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives. 

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)

“You sure you feel up to this? We can just hang out at the hotel if you want.”

“No,” Jensen said. “I need to get out, get fresh air. I need to breathe. Have I ever mentioned how much I HATE board meetings? It’s why I’m not an office guy. I would suck at it. What happened to let’s meet at a restaurant, have a meal, a drink and just talk stuff out?”

“Alright man, whatever you want,” Jared agreed and took a few tentative steps to cross the street. “But, remember, you were the one that wanted this all to happen A.S.A.P. The guy is on vacation with his family and putting aside time for us. If he wants set up in his hotel conference room…” Jared trailed off and shrugged before making his way across the street.

Jensen waved him off and followed in his friend’s footsteps and as they made their way up onto the boardwalk, they were both relatively relieved with how deserted it was. October at the Jersey shore wasn’t exactly ‘in season’ but it was a nice enough night that they could have encountered a lot more people.

“This is good,” Jensen smiled, as they strolled down the boardwalk. He inhaled a deep breath of the salty air and exhaled slowly. “I get that. But its important to get this stuff finalized before I go back to Austin and start making firm plans. ‘Cause before you know it, it’s back to Vancouver. Doesn’t leave much time to get things in motion.”

“Could always push the festival back a year,” Jared suggested, knowing Jensen would never agree. He was like a dog with a bone where this festival was concerned. Once the idea to host a three-day event in Austin came about, Jensen was bound and determined to make it happen, all in a year’s time.

“No, its gotta be next year,” he said, gesturing with his hands that was his final decision. “Its fine. I’m better now that I’m out of that conference room. It was like a million degrees in there. This, this was a good idea. Maybe we find a small bar, grab a beer, some grub. Just relax a bit.”

“Until your phone rings,” Jared said unintentionally sharp.

“Come on, Jar. I don’t wanna—” he sighed and stopped walking. “Its over, alright. She left and honestly it sucked.”

“And the festival is your way to distract yourself from that.”

Jensen gave him a reprimanding look but couldn’t deny his claim.

“It was six months ago, and yeah, it took me a while to get over it. But it wasn’t like we were married, and she wanted something else. I’m done waiting for her, okay? I get it now, she’s not coming back. So, you can stop worrying. And yeah, maybe the festival is my way of moving on. Work is work, and while it keeps me busy enough, I want to do something more. Organizing this thing through the brewery, its gonna be great. Its gonna help a ton of people and bring some recognition to a few great charitable organizations.”

Jared walked by his side quietly, listening and waiting for Jensen to stop rambling. When he did, he asked a simple question completely throwing Jensen for a loop.

“That all sounds great. It really does, and your intentions are on point, Jay. But… what happens when it’s over?””

He hemmed and hawed over an answer, sputtering and stuttering before just giving up and shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine?”

“Perfectly. Fine.” He nodded as a confirmation. “In fact, so fine, I won’t even remember what’s-her-name because I’ll be swimming in fine.” His tone oozed sarcasm, only to be made more punctuated by his expression.

“Jensen…” Jared sighed. “Just stop. Its fine, I get it. I’ll back off. Let’s go get that beer and whatever.”

He shoved his hands in his pocket as the autumn wind kicked up his hair as it rolled in off the ocean. He started to look around at the different booths, only a few of which were open and functioning that time of year. A little further down the boardwalk, Jared spotted a place that could be just what they needed.

“Come on, let’s check out this place,” he motioned his head towards a bar/restaurant called The Beachcomber. Jensen shrugged in agreement as they headed towards the building.

Walking through the front doors, they were met by a quick blast of warm air from above. There was a smattering of tables with patrons, but mostly they were empty. They made their way towards the back of the bar, where there were tables open that overlooked the ocean. Claiming one, they sat down and grabbed a menu to peruse. Not to long after, a waitress came by and took their orders. If she had recognized them, she didn’t mention it and went about her business as usual.

“I don’t want to keep bringing it up,” Jared started, after the waitress came back with their drinks.

Jensen sipped his beer. “So, don’t.”

“I just—I thought you were going to propose? You told me you wanted too. She left because you couldn’t make the commitment, Jay. Why didn’t you go through with it?”

Jensen just shrugged and looked out over the ocean to think before answering Jared’s question. “I don’t know… at the last minute I just couldn’t do it. The idea of settling down with one person is terrifying, man. It may suit you and Gen, but I don’t know if it’s for me.”

“Its not like you’re some playboy. You are monogamous as hell. So, what was it really?”

“Maybe I just couldn’t see my future with her. You know, settling down, kids, the whole nine.”

Jared nodded slowly, finally understanding. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because that makes me sound like a dick.”

“You are a dick,” Jared teased and threw a piece of napkin at his friend.

Jensen mocked him with a fake laugh and went back to his beer. “Yeah, yeah… moving on. Let’s talk about the important shit. I want tomorrow to go as smoothly as possible so we aren’t sitting in the pits-of-Hell conference room, so will you have a chance to look through all the contracts?”

Jared nodded and sighed. “Mhm. But really Jay, that shit needs to just go to the lawyer. I know you want everything to be perfect, to go smoothly. And I have no doubt that it will… but can’t we just concentrate on the creative stuff? Gen and I got a lot of the marketing taken care of. You and Jason, Robbie too, right? Y’all got the music covered. The festival will go off without a hitch and Random Acts will take in a bunch of money, as will the Austin Y and the crisis hotline.”

“Yeah, music is coming along. I just don’t have anyone that fits the vibe, you know?”

“No, I don’t. What vibe is that?”

Jensen shrugged. “I don’t know… this I guess,” he motioned towards the beach and the boardwalk, “I wanna bring this to the Brewfest.”

“Why? I mean, its great here, but what makes it so special?”

“Can’t put my finger on it. Have you ever been here in the summertime? Dude, its amazing. Just the whole vibe of the place…”

“That’s why you’re so intent on having these meetings with Leo. You want him to bring the boardwalk to Austin.”

Jensen shrugged again and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, alright. I will help you make that happen then. Tomorrow, we’ll just have to convince him.”

“Well, lookit you. Being all motivational and shit.”

“Rah rah!” Jared teased and shaking his hands like pom poms.

“How are we friends?” he asked and shook his head with a sarcastic eye roll included.

“You’d be lost without me and you know it,” Jared mocked and raised his glass in salute. Jensen nodded in reluctance agreement and clinked his glass against Jared’s.

The food was dropped not too long after that, and they enjoyed their seaside dinner as the sun set behind the houses to the west. About an hour after they arrived, dinner and drinks were finished, and they debated on staying or going back to the hotel. Deciding to stay for one more round, they settled in and kept an eye on Game Six of the World Series happening on the TVs above the bar.

Somewhere around the fifth inning, the volume got turned down, and the customer’s attention was asked to look towards the small corner stage. Behind the riser, was the backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean and a smattering of small boat lights on the horizon. Though the sun had just set a little while ago, the moon was already nearly full, hanging low in the night sky.

Jared was intent on the game playing out over the bar, even though there was no sound now. Jensen sipped at the rest of his beer and decided to keep his eyes on the stage. An older man, maybe in his mid-60s, welcomed the crowd and thanked them for patronizing The Beachcomber. His thick New York accent made Jensen smile, especially once he took in the man’s overall appearance of his slicked back salt and pepper hair, white tee shirt and black leather coat.

Right out of the damn Sopranos, he thought and chuckled to himself.

He watched the stage, eager to see some Sinatra wannabe come out and try to charm the crowd. But when the girl with the guitar came out instead, he sat up a little straighter in his chair and glanced over at his best friend to see if he was paying attention.

He wasn’t.

Jensen couldn’t take his eyes off her, not solely because she was beautiful; which she was… stunningly so. Her beauty wasn’t what made him sit up and take notice. It was the way she held her guitar; gripping it as if it where her life line. He observed her closely, surprised that she seemed nervous. When she strummed the guitar and brought the melody to life her nerves faded away; she was suddenly confident and assured. Her voice carried on and as the lyrics of “Dust in the Wind” filled up the back end of the Beachcomber Restaurant, Jensen found himself immersed in the moment.

He went to the bar that night in search of a hot meal and cold beer. Jensen didn’t expect to find a solution to some, or even all, of his problems. But the longer he sat and watched her perform, he started to feel that maybe everything will work out for him after all.

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