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starlight-storytime · 12 days

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ok so blame it on the dead guy has to be the danny phantom or dc wip right

surprisingly not! "Alright, blame it on the dead guy" is actually my unsub!Spencer Reid fic bc it is CRIMINAL how few plot-driven fics with serial killer Spence assigned his own case are out there

like?? he has SO much potential but I've never come across an Unsub Reid fic that interested me so I decided to write one myself 🥸 1k snippet under the cut!

Spencer volunteered to go first, shifty and nervous. “We—ah, well, we might as well get this out of the way.”

They didn't think to take her out of the viewing room—or, still trusted her enough not to—because they let Elle stay in the corner to watch that stupid, sweet boy get through an interrogation with Hotch. The reality, the potential, hadn't really set in. The team were still scoffing and disbelieving about the mere idea that Elle was a suspect, let alone actually considering she could have killed someone and should be kept aside in a waiting room.

She didn't know whether their trust was heartwarming, or if it hurt to know she was betraying it. That she was making Spencer betray it.

“Where were you last night?” Hotch asked bluntly, diving right to the thick of it.

“890 Glendale Avenue, Queen’s Motel, room 128.” Spencer answered immediately, staring at his shirt cuff as he picked at it.

“A motel?" Hotch raised a brow. "Why weren't you at home?”

“I was, um, visiting Elle. Like I said, this case got us both really heated, and I thought as—as her friend, I should comfort her, y'know?” Spencer looked up as if asking for Hotch's approval, before realizing where he was, and looking back down at his hands awkwardly.

“How long were you at the motel?”

“From 7:23pm to 6:51am.”

“All night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what room was Elle staying in?”

“128.”

“So then—wait.” Hotch visibly double taked. “What room did you stay in?”

“128. Sir.”

Spencer was turning a shade of delicate rose, those honey amber doe eyes burning a hole into his palms as he very determinedly stared down at the table, lips slightly twisted.

“How many beds were in the—”

“We slept together!” Spencer burst out, hands over his face as he couldn't bare to be seen and his ears a burning flame. “They only have queens at Queen’s Motel, which is why they're mostly popular for discreet hookups, affairs, and young couples for privacy. There's no cameras on premise for that exact reason but I can guarantee that we were preoccupied for the entire night and didn't have time to go kill anyone.”

Spencer looks up at his boss beseechingly, and his every move screams earnest innocence. Hotch was briefly stunned silent by the outburst.

The viewing room, on the other hand, is hooting and hollering, gasping and grinning and exchanging promises to pay back bets they had made.

"That's why he's so nervous, that sly dog!” Morgan crowed.

Elle stared at the picture of embarrassed, inexperienced young coworker spilling about an unlikely office romance in front of her, and now understand exactly why Spencer had said what he did on the car ride over

“I have a tattoo of four dice on my left hip, in the order 1, 3, 1, 2. I got it for twenty bucks at a Halloween flash sale in Vegas, when I was 16.”

Elle was so overwhelmed by everything going on after hiding a body and disposing of evidence, she can barely process the spontaneous fun fact Spencer shared.

“Is that your worst secret or something? Trying to make it even now that you— have mine?” Elle weakly joked. It seemed so Spencer that the worst thing he ever did was get an underage tattoo.

Spencer glanced at her briefly before turning back to the dark road he was speeding down, headlights off. “Just remember it. It's on my left hip, an inch above the bone.”

The entire viewing room was staring at Elle now, any ideas of her involvement with the murder last night swept out the door. She can only confidently manage a secretive tilt of her head before she's looking away, towards the sight of her best friend saving her from a charge of second degree murder.

“You and Elle…slept in the same bed the entire night, then?” Spencer nodded behind his hands. “Alright. Sure. She never got up to use the bathroom, get a drink, anything like that?” Hotch's attempts to keep up professionalism were crumbling, with Spencer looking exactly like an embarrassed teen who desperately didn't want to talk about girls with his father.

“We were occupied until roughly 11pm, and slept in the same bed the entire night. We never left the room, she never left my line of sight, please just hurry this up.” Spencer says directly into his hands, not even pretending to not be hiding from eye contact anymore.

Hotch grimaced, as much as the man ever showed weakness. “You say she never left your line of sight, rather than she never left the bed.”

“The only time we got out of bed was to take a shower and replace the sheets, but those all came in the suite. We did them all together, barely an arms length away from when I entered the hotel room to when I got into this interrogation room. We fell asleep cuddling and woke up the same way. I'm a light enough sleeper that she couldn't have moved me without drugging me, and I didn't take anything unsealed last night. ” Spencer peeks out from between his fingers, and the skin that can be seen is an impressively tomato red. “Please, Hotch.”

Hotch sighs, kneading his eyebrow for a long moment before picking his papers up and motioning for Spencer to leave. The boy practically sprints, going straight out the door and into the viewing room with such an apologetic face Elle can almost believe they did have this night he implied, rather than the one that really happened.

"I'm really sorry about having to talk about this with the whole team, Elle." Spencer apologized, even as Morgan was shaking his shoulders like the kid had scored the winning play of the season.

He didn't even lie when he said we spent the whole night together, an arms length away. Elle realized incredulously, filled with exhilarated relief at the fact that they were actually going to get a way with it. We did sleep in that queen bed together, even if nothing happened.

Hotch put his head in reluctantly. "This will be brief, but for the sake of protocol..."

Elle put on her best swagger and a smile for Hotch. "Of course, boss." She blew a kiss behind her on a whim, and the team burst into another round of whispers and gossip as the door shut.

Elle reclined in the metal chair, half nervous and half amused. The look in Hotch’s eyes is so tired dad that she can fool herself into thinking this is a meet the parents scenario.

“Did you know he has a tattoo?" Elle said idly, picking at her cuticle. "On his hip, the left one. You'll never guess the story behind it.”

The tired look he gave her aged him ten years, and Elle laughs so hard she almost cries.

She dramatically goes over the tattoo story she heard in the car, and then proceeds to make up one of the best nights of her life, using unnecessarily raunchy detail until it's all too much. Too much in general outside of an erotic romance, but way too much for her boss to hear about from a coworker he has to look in the eyes, and the boy she can tell he's starting to consider like a son.

Elle doesn't get arrested for murder that day. The least she can do is cover for Spencer now, when he's being blamed for a string of murders he didn't even do.

#this isn't a Spencelle or ship fic in general this is just my fave scene so far #this is actually a flash back explaining why Elle in the present suddenly pops in and gives Spencer an alibi #as the main plot is about Spencer being an unsub who changes methods every few months to masquerade as a new kille d #and Elle is gone by the time the team is assigned Spencer's serial killer identity's case #(she has no idea he's actually been like four different serial killers throughout his life LMAO)#((he plays up the sweet puppy eyes and relies on her guilt abt using him as an alibi for when she killed))#unsub spencer reid #criminal minds #Spencer Reid #elle greenaway #wip #ficlet #snippet #cm #alright blame it on the dead guy

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queenclaudiabrown · 2 years

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Ocean Eyes | IX: Anglerfish

Chapter content warnings: mentions of toxic/fake relationships, manipulation, discussion of Leek and Caroline’s canonical business relationship and its adaptations for this story, mentions of Leek’s mer-oriented operations, mentions of death/corpses/dissection, not much else

Word count: 539

Caroline Steel was an anglerfish.

She’d grown up in Bath, raised by rich parents. She was a manipulative woman ever since she was little, and was able to sweet-talk (and later flirt) her way into (or out of) anything. It started small; with her parents, staying up past bedtime, not finishing her dinner, having more candy than she was permitted; when she was older, becoming the popular girl and Prom Queen, getting any boy she wanted but never letting them dump her, getting out of detention.

But she was also proud.

She didn’t grovel and beg- not really, that wasn’t how she got things done. She was craftier than that, she’d mastered the doe eyes and the adorable pout and the fake tears. She didn’t have to beg.

So when she had blown all her money in designer clothes, an expensive car, and valueless status, she was quick to accept Oliver Leek’s offer. He was a well-dressed man, slick and smooth-talking in a weaselly (and not a professional or cultured) way, and generally shifty.

And rich.

He had had a wonderful proposition for her- he would pay her £500 per week, and she would stay at a family-owned seaside inn and report to him on the goings-on in its vicinity. The place was a bit quaint for her, nothing like The Ritz or the other high-end, classy hotels she was accustomed to. But it was cheap and the view was nice, and the money was even better.

When Leek had first told her about the existence of merfolk- ‘homo marino’, he called them- she had nearly laughed in his face. But then he’d promptly shoved a tablet filled with evidence into her hands and driven them to his warehouse, where he had even more research on the creatures- even a dead one, thoroughly dissected and well-preserved- and her skepticism had died. (After she’d met him, she tried to ignore how much Danny Quinn looked like him.) He insisted that he had found the dead one that way, and didn’t want to kill any to learn about them, hence her job.

There was another task for which she was paid- Connor Temple. He was the owners’ cousin and one of the operators, and cute in a boyish, almost nerdy way. He was also wholly enamored with one of the mermaids- a gorgeous blonde thing who was more muscular than most men Caroline had known and seemed to hate humans yet tolerate him. Part of her job was to learn as much about the merfolk as possible, using Connor only if necessary, since she was also to seduce him and turn him against the mermaid.

When they next met, after a successful trial run of sorts, Leek was holding an entire briefcase filled with cash being offered in exchange for a greater task. She was happy to accept, and coldly uncaring of Connor’s feelings. After all, Leek wasn’t paying her to be a catfish, lying about her appearance and/or age to draw people in. No, what he was paying for was something she’d done for free to countless boys- being tempting and alluring, charming the innocent and naïve close to her until it was too late.

Caroline Steel was an anglerfish.

Dividers are used with permission from their creator, @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Author’s note: Anglerfish are creepy as all heck but I thought they were a good analogy for Caroline’s role in this AU, or at least better than the connotation of catfish. Canon Caroline tried to redeem herself and genuinely meant no real harm, but this AU she’s actually nasty, as I hoped to illustrate above. Also, although I’m not explicitly stating it in the fic itself, the dead merman Leek has that he showed Caroline is Danny’s father. Leek didn’t pick him for that reason, though, although either he or Helen or one of their cronies did actually, intentionally kill him and not find him dead somewhere. Also, I rewrote the second-to-last paragraph like six times

Ocean Eyes Masterlist

#primeval #caroline steel #oliver leek #connor temple #mermay #mermay 2022 #merman #mermen #atlantis #tw toxic relationship #ocean eyes

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artistfingers · 3 years

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what did tucker and sam thought of fenton on his first impression and how do they perceive him afterward crossing with him more and more?

[Undercover Phantom AU] | [Sam & Tucker meet Fenton]

oooh, fun question very fun question 👀 just like the last the last ask, it got long whoops

Sam—she’s reluctant to give him a chance right off the bat because she does not want to work side-by-side with someone who proudly proclaims ghosts to be sub-human, unintelligent, and lesser beings… which is what danny’s parents do. he’s probably the same. too many kids in this godforsaken school follow their parents’ footsteps a little too closely. she won't risk it.

(danny’s no stranger to being judged by the reputation of his parents, but it definitely hurts coming from someone he considers one of his only two friends. He also doesn’t get why she’s cold-shouldering judgey-eyeballing him, but. he’s dealt with worse, so he troops through.)

that first time, it’s tucker who convinces Sam to give danny a chance, based on the fact that they, uh, kinda need it when a ghost is attacking the school and nobody’s seen hide nor hair of phantom and tucker and sam are armed with literally a hacked chromebook and sam’s mini ecto-gun and nothing else.

whatever the threat-of-the-week turns out to be, they’re not as threatening as initially thought. It’s mostly danny who talks them into giving the ruckus a rest because phantom’s not around to spar right now and anyway even if he was here to throw some right hooks and ecto-blasts, is a school really the place to do it? no. obviously no. but if they go chill out near the portal phantom’s sure to find them and they can schedule something, no problem. alright seeya next time

Tucker thinks fenton’s pretty cool for having the courage to dive into this ghost situation with them, so he takes a fast liking to him. Sam, at least, retracts her (internal) statement that fenton wouldn’t treat a ghost like a real person, because he does, but she’s still a bit wary of him. she can’t put her finger on why. There’s just something… weird. if anybody asks, she’d say he acts shifty. Nervous. Tucker says fenton’s just shy, but…. Still.

The trio’s paths start to cross more often after the first fenton-sam-and-tuck teamup. it starts at school; now that they’re all aware of each other, suddenly they can’t stop seeing one another in the hallways and cafeteria and after-school-detentions, despite the fact that the three of them don’t share a single class. then they start to see fenton around ghost sightings and fights, which happens too many times to be pure coincidence and fuels sam’s idea that something fishy is up with fenton.

She does warm up to him eventually, though, mostly because she finds out what a goof he is, but also because she can forgive people their weirdness. She embraces the weird, after all, the gothy ghostly geeky all of it! and, he makes a great partner to bounce ideas off of when it comes to ecto-rights campaigns. That’s a plus.

Meanwhile, tucker’s excited to have met someone who’s just as willing to get into unprecedented hijinks as he and sam are! and, he and danny just kinda click. yanno? he’s fun to poke fun at, because he pokes back, and is actually fascinated when tucker goes on some tangent about programming environments or what he learned recently about logic gates. And he makes a great Doomed partner.

But eventually, tucker also starts to find things odd with Fenton. Like, he’s 99.9% sure he spotted fenton wearing the tacky 90s button down he gave to Phantom last week, and that thing’s vintage. No way fenton just happens to have the same one. and the guy always seems to know things that he shouldn’t. Not like, super weird things, but still things he can’t explain why he knows, like, tucker and sam’s in-jokes.

By the time they find out Fenton and Phantom are one in the same, they both consider him a good friend and trustworthy person. Their levels of suspicion that something is up with him have swapped - Tucker’s more tuned into it now, and Sam’s letting things go as long as they’re not egregiously weird - but they’re both willing to call him out on slip-ups, joke around, invite him out ghost hunting, to Nasty Burger, to movie nights, to early-morning-7-11-runs-before-school, etc. yanno, good ol’ teenage hijinks!

tbh i think there’s a lot more room for how their opinions on him shift through their friendship with him as fenton, but a lot of it’s down to the details of what exactly happens during that time, and i don’t have a clear idea of most of it at the moment. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dp #undercover phantom au #no one knows au #art writes #fic #ask #anon #Undercover Asks

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ignitingneon · 6 years

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B99 fic: Delicate Fins, Tender Hearts

AN: Okay, so this is my first fic for the fandom and I’m a lil nervous. All of the credit goes to @fishycorvid for making a post about the goldfish subplot between CJ and Danny on The West Wing and how that it was definitely some cute ass shit Jake would’ve done for Amy during S1. Thank you so much for your kindness and encouragement, Sy!!

Read on [AO3]

“Your finest goldfish, please,” Jake said to the teenager behind the counter at Petland Discounts. “And can you put it in a bowl with—oh my god, do those actually work?” He pointed to the glow in the dark aquarium gravel, and after seeing a nod of confirmation, grabbed the bag and plopped it onto the counter with an enthusiastic grin. “These?”

The teenager looked a bit bemused, but said politely, “Of course, sir.”

Jake shifted from foot to foot, rolling from heel to toe as he waited, eyes scanning the tanks lining the wall, and cringing when he caught the sight of a tarantula. Butterflies began to swarm irrationally in his stomach, but he dismissed it. Yeah, he’d screwed up big time and she’d stormed away, leaving him to stew in the wreckage, feeling guilty and like a jerk, but it was going to be fine. They were always fine after enough time had passed for the rubber band of tension between them to recede from the danger of snapping.

Gina had hummed disapprovingly in the wake of the incident, fixing him with a judgmental look when he’d asked her for advice.

“Damn, kiddo. You’re coming to me? You must be desperate.”

“C’mon, goose! Please? I’ll run tech for Floor-Gasm’s next show if you tell me how to fix this.” He tried to wheedle.

Gina let a long silence hang over them as she pretended to ponder over his offer. Finally, she extended her hand for him to shake and said, “You got a deal.”

She then told him Amy liked goldfish, making him laugh in disbelief. “You think a goldfish is going to convince her to hate me less?”

“Take it or leave it.” She shrugged, then her attention was back on her phone, effectively ending the conversation.

Jake had dismissed the idea almost immediately, but it had somehow slithered its way up to the front of his mind over the next few days, prodding relentlessly until he gave it consideration, leading to the current moment, where he handed over the only credit card in his possession that hadn’t been maxed out.

(The fake date expenses were probably going to follow him till his grave, but it had been worth it. It went on the good date list and she’d looked at him like—)

With a rustling plastic bag of supplies hanging from his arm and a two point five gallon fish tank (he’d been told that tiny fish bowls were bad for all fish) hugged to his chest, he left the store, only to realize that he hadn’t driven there, and while the tank wasn’t heavy, it still wasn’t nothing. He looked down at the goldfish in his arms through the peephole in the lid. Its wide fins were fluttering, its body wiggling around without a care in the world…it was actually kind of cute.

Okay, no biggie. We got this, Mr. Fins. He thought before descending down the subway stairs with his body turned sideways.

The butterflies returned once he stepped into the precinct elevator, bending awkwardly to press the fourth floor button with an elbow. As the elevator sounded a soft whir, nervous energy began to build in him. His head bobbed to the rhythm his fingers were tapping on the underside of the tank.

The rest of the detectives had already gone home. It seemed like it was always them who were last to leave, unable to tear their minds away from fiddling with the puzzle pieces of crime.

He approached her desk with uncharacteristic uncertainty. “Hey.”

She lowered the case file covering her face, eyes immediately going to the tank in his arms but choosing to ignore it for the moment. “Hey,” she said. “You were right about Baker’s dog walker, they totally lied. Surveillance cams caught ‘em at the store, and records show that they used a stolen credit card. Open and shut from here on out.”

He forgot about his nerves for a second, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I knew it! That’s awesome! I mean, not about the whole identity theft slash murder thing, but he was so shifty, right?”

“Super shifty,” she said, eyes wide in emphasis. Then, faster than he had hoped, she moved on to the next topic. “So what’s with the goldfish?”

His hands were sweaty and no doubt leaving marks on the glass. “Oh, um. It’s for you.”

“Really?” Her head tilted slightly in confusion.

“Yeah, I feel really bad about what happened the other day, and Gina said she overheard you at Holt’s party saying that you like goldfish. So.”

“Oh,” she said, pressing her lips together in a poor attempt to keep her smile at bay. “Oh my god.” She brought her hands to her involuntarily burning cheeks and looked at him with shining eyes. “Jake, I meant the crackers.”

His heart kind of dropped into his shoes. Out of every possible reaction that had flashed through his mind, this had not been one of them, and now mortification burned through him. “Oh. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.”

She couldn’t hold back her chuckles. “Yeah, my brothers and I had an obsession with them. We had to buy them in bulk.”

“Oh, wow. All of you? That’s a little weird,” he quipped weakly to steer away from floundering further.

Head shaking in disbelief and with a smile still on her face, she got up from her desk and moved a stack of files to the perp chair before taking the fish tank from his tired arms, setting it gently on the vacated area. “Does it have a name?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. Mr. Fins,” he admits sheepishly, setting the bag of supplies down.

She crouched down to take a closer look at the fish, still happily swimming around. “Fitting.” She nodded before looking at him with those shining eyes again.

His breath caught in his throat. It was the same way she’d looked at him the day after the bet, after he told her that it still made the good date list. Half-questioning and half-curious.

Almost carefully, she stood and approached him, wrapping him up in their first real hug, miles away from a previous single instance of a quick one-armed embrace born out of a near-miraculous breakthrough. He stood frozen and tense before his brain caught up to the present and allowed him to place his hands on her back, to savor the quiet moment.

“You’re actually really sweet, Peralta,” she murmured into his shoulder.

He snorted. “Well, don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not,” she said, pulling back to look him in the face. “Seriously, thank you.”

He ducked his head. “Yeah, no problem.”

She moved to sit at her desk, but he tugged on her sleeve with a spark of excitement in his eye. “Hey, wanna see something cool?”

Deciding to indulge him, she sighed. “Sure.”

“Stay there!”

He went to flip the light switches, letting darkness fall over the bullpen while simultaneously, the aquarium gravel lit up in neon green. He heard her gasp of, “No way!” and smiled to himself before calling back, “I know right!”

#b99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #fluff

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fixomnia-scribble · 6 years

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Blue Bloods 8x22 “My Aim Is True” Recap and Ramble

SPOILERS SPOILERS OH BOY SPOILERS

Firstly, may I just say what a pleasure it’s been to ramble with you lovely people all season. I’m already looking forward to a fanfic-filled summer until the circus opens again in the fall. There’s always a conflicted excitement and hesitancy at the thought of watching a season finale, especially with so much vested in it. (Way to crank expectations to fever pitch, there, Wahlberg.) But, armed with iced coffee and Oreos and the anticipation of a teeth-gnashing, hair-pulling post-game analysis, here we go!

“My Aim Is True”…the title has me Googling for references. Not much but the refrain from Elvis Costello’s “Alison”, with its haunting image of a young girl about to give up on her dreams and ambitions to settle for far less than she deserved. Hmm. More on that later, no doubt.

Opening scene: Outdoors. A graveyard and heavy snow. Danny talking to Linda’s headstone, as if she’s standing right next to him alternately rolling her eyes and hugging his arm tight, as in old days. Anniversary reaction time. He admits he’s having a really hard time, and misses her. Baez, who Danny has just referred to as a Godsend of a partner, emerges from their patrol car and tells him it’s time. Danny brushed away a tear, kisses his fingers, touches Linda’s headstone and gets in one more “Love you most,” and I’m already swallowing hard. I hope Amy’s watching.

CUT TO: One PP Media Room. Frank is at the podium speaking on the positive outcome of a community program. An Exposition Fairy dressed as a reporter asks about a five million dollar settlement awarded to each of six wrongly imprisoned men who spent nine years in prison, and asks if Frank feels any personal responsibility. Garret smoothly slides in and tries to deflect the line of questioning, but she persists. Standing on the wall, Baker looks perturbed. She knows exactly how deeply the case got to Frank.

CUT TO: Danny and Baez are speaking with two older women of fragile health, on a streetcorner. Jesus. It sounds as though they witnessed a point-blank shooting of a friend of theirs. They opine that the shooter “sounded white and male”, and that he was driving a foreign car. The paramedics swoop down on the pair as Danny and Baez leave them. “Life’s rich pageant,” pronounceth Danny, as they step by a rather graphic blood puddle for this show.

SMASH CUT TO: Jamie approaches a smoking, wrecked white BMW. The driver is okay but stuck inside. Jamie pulls out a door jimmy and pops the door in half a second. The young driver looks shifty, says, “Thank you, Officers,” and starts to speed-limp away before Jamie and Eddie grab his arms. He has no license and swears the car is his brother’s. Turns out the car does belong to his brother, Manuel, but Eddie, ever the walking Criminal Code, rattles off the menu of charges the fifteen-year-old driver is in for as they head back to the precinct.

CUT TO: Erin and Monica are walking downtown in the rain, gossiping about Monica’s plans for a romantic weekend with her ex. Erin could probably tell her a thing or two about that. In fact, Erin’s about to ‘fess up to her own reunion with Jack, when Monica is shot in the back with a silenced gun, and collapses into Erin’s arms. WHOA. Monica blinks, confused, and fades out as Erin, spattered with blood, lowers her to the ground and screams for help. This is no please-don’t-hurt-my-family moment. Nothing can prepare you for that.

Title cards. I take a deep breath.

CUT TO: The One-Two. Eddie and Jamie are walking Luis into the precinct. His brother charges at him, saying he’s going to kill him. Eddie and Jamie shush him down. (Of all the things you never want to say in a police station, “I’m going to kill you” surely tops the list.) Luis’ Mama, a very well dressed, coiffured Latina lady, cries that the cops have taken enough of her family. It turns out that Manuel was just released from prison after nine years: he was one of the Prospect Park Six that Frank was grilled about earlier. Jamie puts this together, and apologizes sincerely. Which is very Jamie, and very very against any regulations – there’s no way he should apologize on behalf of the NYPD, but hey, he’s Jamie. Manuel and his mother decide to lawyer up even to sign Luis’ release papers, not trusting any part of the system. Can’t exactly blame them for that.

CUT TO: Erin’s apartment. The family has gathered there to support her. Henry is sitting on the couch beside Erin, with Nicky on the other side. Danny is pacing. Jamie and Tony are chatting at the kitchen island, pouring drinks. Jamie asks Tony to do what he can to make Luis’ pending charges go away, since the Escobars deserve a break. Tony promises to talk to some people.

Danny tries fruitlessly to talk to Erin, who is shattered. As tough as she is, she doesn’t work on the street level of the family business. Crime scenes are not her métier, at least not until they’re written up on paper. Danny pushes harder, and Erin snaps. Nicky and Jamie step in, and remind Danny of “his other job”, which he is also really good at: being a solid rock for his little sister to lean on. He sits beside her and lets her break down against him.

CUT TO: Office of F. Baker (Baker! Baker! Baker!) is giving Frank a report on a third shooting: Ida, Monica and now a sixteen year old girl. Witnesses give varying descriptions of a dark sedan with “out of state plates”. Frank is clearly moved beyond his usual grim sadness at another tragedy on his watch. “They’re not murders, they’re assassinations,” he states with conviction.

Frank becomes quite dynamic as he explains that while it doesn’t make any sense, his intuition is telling him that the assassinations are linked with the Prospect Park Six. Frank rolls his eyes at himself, saying he can’t reconcile it, but the voice won’t shut up. This is as deeply as I’ve ever seen Tom get into Frank’s skin. He’s usually such a broad-gestures actor, but he’s playing with a minute concentration and nuance here, as if Frank’s discomfort and twitchiness have taken over his nerves. Baker suggests that it makes sense from a cop-psychology point of view. She suggests that Frank’s sense of regret and responsibility is making him look for a way to compartmentalize the lost nine years of the Prospect Park Six, and salvage some meaning out of the assassinations. Frank agrees that she’s probably right, but Baker and Gormley, who have cop guts of their own, share a glance.

CUT TO: Morning. Danny and Baez are at the apartment of the first victim, Ida, where they are talking to her son. He insists she was a “classic little old lady – wouldn’t hurt a fly.” The son, however, is a Corrections Captain at Yorkville Prison, and gets threats on the regular. He’d like to catch the scumbag himself who killed his mother. “Any particular scumbag you had in mind?” Danny asks. “There was one skell – Randall Meems,” the Captain replies. “A vicious little twerp who got his charges dropped and walked the week before last.” The Captain allows that Meems needed “a lot” of corrections while lingering on the cellblock awaiting trial for a year, and held a grudge.

CUT TO: The Five-Four, interrogation room number something. A tough blonde parolee, Brandy, is refusing to give up Meems’ location to Danny and Baez. Danny applies legal pressure, saying he knows she’s been violating her parole. Baez applies emotional pressure, asking if Brandy loves Meems, to which Brandy sneers, “What’s love but a second-hand emotion?” (Well, not quite, but close enough that my ‘80’s brain jumps there.) Baez rolls her eyes and goes in search of coffee. Danny gets Brandy talking. Brandy blames an unnamed NYPD detective for landing Meems in Yorkville for a year before he even came to trial, and was released because the case fell apart. But she’s still not telling them where he is. In a weird way, I’m starting to like Brandy. She’s tough and not too nice and seriously bitter, but she’s honest and she speaks her truth clearly as she sees it.

Enter Baez, with the unusually blasé opening that she’s just learned Meems died of an overdose nine days ago, so Brandy is free to go. I surely hope that wasn’t Brandy’s first notification. She doesn’t seem all that surprised, or, well, anything but glumly pissed off.

CUT TO: Jamie and Eddie, enumerating how the Escobars have been spending their award money. A mil for the apartment, a hundred and fifty grand for the Turbo (Eddie jumps in with a more accurate: “Turbo S-Cabriolet with custom order green trim, more like two-thirty” because she is, after all, the sports car aficionado.) I LOVE IT when Eddie rattles off information she has in her head. Jamie, being Jamie, merely accepts this as probably likely, without even a hint of a thought of a “Well, actually…” He simply adds it up, saying, “Okay, one point two mil out of five.” Another million for savings and another for charities. They start talking new clothes, trying to add up to five million. (Eddie needles Jamie about his old, battered leather jacket starting to smell. I think she means it, too. Aww. Quasi-spousal caretaking and a moment of sweet connection.) He gets his own back, saying, “Okay, even with five hundred for the jacket, you’re still way short.” Hee. She knows exactly how short she is.

Mama Escobar, her coiffure still impeccable, is neither impressed or fazed by their arrival on her door. She doesn’t fall for Jamie’s nice-cop patter about being in the neighbourhood and making sure Luis was ready for his court appearance. Eddie tries to make a connection by thumbing at Jamie and saying, “It was his idea,” (hee!) but Mama snaps, “I don’t want to hear from you, either, Blondie.” Oh, hey now. Eddie merely shrugs and says, “Family Court, nine thirty, be there, be square.” She turns to leave, but Luis appears behind his mother, all dressed up. Mama hisses again, “What are you really doing here?” Jamie aims for politeness but clearly knows it’s not going to help. Mama tells them to stay away from her door unless they have a warrant. She closes said door in their faces.

CUT TO: Office of E. Erin is at her desk. Tony is pacing and eating. They’re combing Monica’s files for anyone who might have wanted to kill her. It’s more a matter of finding anyone who didn’t, due to the nature of her job. Tony suggests starting with the security logs from the DA’s building itself, the courthouse, and look for evidence of someone trying out a dry run. Not a bad thought at all. Erin sets to work.

CUT TO: Office of F. The Two G’s approach Abby, laying bets on whether Frank is gone or not. Abby regards them with a sigh. We get a view of her desk for once: gorgeous mahogany with simple, classy, top-quality fixtures, much like Abby herself. And a very cute photo of her touching noses with her baby. “Still?” asks Garrett. “Yeah,” nods Abby. Frank is inside poring over case files in his shirtsleeves, with coffee cups and sandwich wrappers skirting the piles. The three walk in uninvited, which Frank grumbles about briefly, but clearly he’s glad to see them. I can just smell the odour of a twelve-hour grinding file search, stale sweat and old coffee and deli pickles in an enclosed space. Abby pointedly suggests that Frank might share his thinking with the two of them who have, in fact, held the rank of Detective. “And Garrett can take notes,” rumbles Gormley. Frank holds them off, saying there’s nothing for him to share yet. He goes off on a hilarious tangent about saving their concern until he really starts turning into Captain Queeg, that does absolutely nothing to allay said concerns, and asks them to leave him be. They do. It’s a delightful look at the three amigos dealing with Frank disappearing into his head. We know where Jamie gets that from. As they leave, Frank reminds them that far from looking for a crime to pin on them, the last thing he wants is to put the six men through another wringer. Ahh. There it is.

CUT TO: Reagan house. Frank is finally home. It’s a regular family conclave of the adult Reagans! (We haven’t had one of those, I think, since the hilarious “Who hasn’t smoked up?” episode.) Frank gives them the information that one of the six, Dewan Wilson, lost his mother to cancer while he was in prison. The warden wouldn’t let him to go her funeral. After his mother’s death, Dewan became increasingly erratic and threatened payback to everyone who had a hand in putting him away. Frank suggests that rather than seeking direct revenge, what if Dewan spent the next eight years planning to assassinate the nearest and dearest of his enemies. “To suffer a fate worse than death,” Danny says. “Like that, yeah,” Frank says. I’m struck hard by how these two bereft husbands just get each other instantly and don’t even have to explain how dark some of their days have been since the loss of their wives. But Frank also admits that there’s nothing to link the murders together or tie them to Dewan, except the mindgames of “a rusty old detective with a guilty conscience.”

The family takes this seriously. I suddenly realize that this entire scene has had no soundtrack, and barely any sounds except for quiet breathing and resting of hands on the table. Not even drinking their whiskey. It creates a close intimacy we don’t often see even at Sunday dinner. Especially when Henry and Erin follow Frank’s thought to its natural conclusion: that if Frank is right, any one of them might be on the list. Erin wonders if Monica’s bullet was meant for her, but Jamie points out that they’re easy to tell apart.

Everyone’s phones go off – at least all of the active cops’ phones. Another murder. This time an off-duty officer, while walking her dog. (I can hear the entire audience’s heart rate leap for a moment as Jamie confirms this, and we remember Eddie doesn’t have a dog.) They all trade very serious glances.

Halfway point! I’m getting a cup of tea.

CUT TO: Danny and Baez at the house of Captain What’s-his-face, Ida’s son. Morning. Captain finally admits to bragging that he had one of the Prospect Point Six in his cells. Danny presses him to remember if he ever “got medieval” on the guy, if he might have nursed a grudge enough to kill Ida. The Captain admits that he had Dewan Wilson on his cell. Apparently the two did not get on. “You think he’d remember you?” Danny asks, with quiet intensity, “and how awful you treated him?” The Captain looks helpless. Danny shakes his head. As an ex jail-guard myself, who has heard too many stories of brutality, I shake my head too.

CUT TO: Office of E. Erin looks more put together than before and is armed with coffee and a serious-business hairstyle. Monica’s ex-husband Sampson walks in, and Erin and Tony jump to their feet. Condolences are exchanged for kind memories. Sampson is devastated, especially as he and Monica were getting back together. Erin eases up to asking Sampson if he had any involvement in the prosecution of the Prospect Point Six. Sampson says he led the entire prosecution. Oh, dear. Sampson’s name didn’t appear in the court records because he was undergoing a triple bypass during the trial. His second seat erased Sampson’s name to claim the credit. Sampson explained that he worked to get five of the six to flip on Dewan, because Dewan was a typical large, aggressive alpha-male type that cops look at and see guilt. But the five didn’t flip, Sampson says. The six were all innocent. Now we get soundtrack: a sonorous gong knelling in an echoing cavern. Eep. Meanwhile, I’m really impressed with the actor who played Sampson. For being dropped into an intense scene with two actors who have been scene partners for years, he nailed it. I got a sense of Samson-the-person, a hard-nosed prosecutor who’s Seen Some Shit but is nevertheless committed to doing the work to rebuild his relationship with his wife. Or was.

CUT TO: The Escobar apartment again. Jamie and Eddie (I really, really want to know how their painfully awkward dinner went last week, given how comfortable they are now, after the past month) knock on the door and announce themselves. Mama Escobar yanks the door open, with a “What this time?” The boys are packing boxes behind her. Jamie says he just wants to check up on the Family Court outcome. (WHAT? says I. That’s a terrible excuse. As the arresting officers, they’d be privy to that information directly from court. And if Luis had conditions, it would be his Probation Officer, not the cops, who’d come checking on him.) Mama, looking somewhat shattered, and quieter than usual, tells them the Judge agreed to adjust his case as long as Luis stays out of trouble. “We thought you might wanna thank us,” Eddie chirps, still relishing her Bitchy Bad Cop role in this scenario. “Oh, we’re a long way from even,” Mama informs her, but sadly, not sharply. She tells them they’re moving out. Manuel’s bought them a big house in Yonkers. Eddie wishes her luck, seemingly sincere. Jamie shoots her a quick look sideways, but goes in for the kill with a soft, “Hey, Manuel, say hi to Dewan if you see him.” While Mama sputters that Manuel doesn’t speak to Dewan, Jamie tells Manuel he used to coach him in a police league basketball program. They agree he could really play. While Mama tries to run verbal and physical interference between Manuel and Jamie, Jamie manages to pass his card to Manuel, with a look of utterly serious do-not-bullshit-me-Ma’am that gives me a little thrill, if I’m honest. Jamie and Manuel share a nod. Mama shuts the door in a hurry.

In the hallway, Jamie admits that he made up the stuff about coaching Dewan. Eddie gets that something is up. He tells her he’ll fill her in on the ride. Eep. Eddie should have been told every little detail before entering any kind of public space with Jamie. Not that she’d have let him enter public space without proper precautions…clearly all of the Reagan kids and grandkids are fair game.

CUT TO: Office of F, daytime. Frank is munching another sandwich. Gormley is explaining that they’ve isolated images of a dark sedan at the murder sites, with plates coming back to cars stolen from Newark Airport in Jersey. (Having been through that airport myself a couple of times, I can tell you, that’s all too plausible: the long term parking lots are the size of a small city, and cannot possibly be patrolled all the time.)

Abby strides in looking suddenly fabulous in stark black, and crossed her stockinged legs as she takes a sip of her shake. The pinup model hasn’t gone anywhere – she’s still got it. She tells them that Officer Nuñez, the cop who was killed last night, has a father who was also involved in the Prospect Park Six prosecution. And the sixteen year old’s stepmother was one of the arresting officers. The two G’s echo Henry and Erin’s thought that a Reagan is next on the list, despite Frank’s blustering about coincidence. Gormley wants to scoop up Dewan, but Frank points out just how bad it would look, if they arrested him with no evidence or probable cause. The media would have them for lunch. The four shake their heads, knowing what their guts are telling them, but not seeing the path forward.

CUT TO: The One-Two. Holy moly, Eddie and Jamie look amazing. Vanessa’s pulling a mini-Michelle Pfeiffer, and Jamie’s in his beloved cozy (smelly) jacket. Whatever hangups Jamie was feeling about spending time with Eddie off duty seem to have vanished. Hmmm… A fellow cop, Jack, tells him that Manuel is out back, but doesn’t want to come in. Eddie, who has apparently been filled in on the details, looks worriedly at Jamie, who tries to deflect Jack casually while still looking like he’s been hit in the chest. Jamie and Eddie share a very pointed look – ohh, she is not happy about any of this – but she walks with him outside to the back of the precinct, where Manuel is waiting against a fence. He tells them he had to ditch Jamie’s card to placate his mother, but he’s still in touch with Dewan by text. He came down to tell them because he’s terrified of cops – he doesn’t want to get dragged into anything, ever again. Eddie says she’s not surprised. Manuel seems to accept this. He gives Jamie the number Dewan texts from.

CUT TO: OMG OMG OMG It’s Red-Headed TARU Tech McKenna! Hey, girl, hey! Danny and Jamie are loitering in her office as she sifts through data connected with Dewan’s number. She says the phone hasn’t left Miami since March 9th. She does say it’s active for most of the day, confined to a small area. Danny suggests the number might be a decoy, with someone else texting from Florida while Dewan is actually in NYC. McKenna snarks back a little, but Danny takes it, and even calls her “Detective”, leaning in. Ooh, Danny Boy. You don’t think Linda would love you to get with a smart, tough woman who can keep you in line and can give as good as she gets? Enter Baez, confirming that Dewan has been living in South Beach since March. The Brothers Reagan exit the office.

CUT TO: Reagan House. Another Reagan Adults conclave. Damn, I could go for some Chinese food myself. Henry thinks they must be missing something. Frank concludes his hunch was wrong, and that Dewan’s not their guy – he’s just blowing his money in a swanky Florida hotel. Jamie activates his Lawyer!Brain and says there’s too many good puzzle pieces floating around, even if they can’t see yet how they line up. For once Danny agrees with him instantly. They bounce Dewan’s probable daily routines back and forth, and realize that Dewan doesn’t have to leave Florida at all: he’s operating on the level of hiring people to do everything he’d normally do for himself. He could have hired any one of the other five to do his bidding (or anyone else for contract, really.) And even though they haven’t got the proof, everyone at the table knows what the truth feels like when you hear it – which is why the distant sounds of the truth had kept them searching all this time for the connection.

Three-quarter mark. Sheesh. I’m averaging about one fifteen-minute increment per hour, typing at speed! I need more tea.

CUT TO: Office of F. Gormley tells Frank that Dante was on the same cellblock as Dewan, and was released a month after him. Dante has a record as a gang heavy, even executioner, going back to his teens. (shudder). Frank, flanked by the picture of Roosevelt, quietly asks, “Do we have him?” Gormley assures him the APB has gone nationwide, and they will have him soon. “You still got it, Boss,” Gormley says. Awww. Frank looks out over a louring sky and skyscrapers shrouded in mist and advises cautious optimism. (The watchword of the past week.) They have a nice interaction about always knowing that the next bad thing is out there. Sid tries to keep things light by saying it keeps them on their toes. Frank says his toes hurt. (I am reminded of Babylon 5’s Londo Molari sighing, “My shoes are too tight, and I have forgotten how to dance…”)

The scene pulls back again, slowly, and I can feel the tension rising. For an episode plugged as the shocker of the season, they’re feeding out the line in excruciatingly small inches. The sense of something really bad is certainly present, but it’s around a corner still… with ten minutes to go. Ay yi yi. Cliffhanger incipient? But wait. They only got re-upped for the next season after filming ended for this one, so…can we hope to see things tied up in one episode?

CUT TO: Jamie and Eddie, outside the One-Two, back to their old banter (Oh, thank God!), this time about how they’d spend a fantasy five million. Jamie opts for a six-month bike tour of Europe on a vintage Triumph bike. (Oooh, yes please.) Eddie doesn’t like bikes, and asks if it can’t be a cool old car? Sure, in her fantasy, Jamie says, but not his. “So selfish! Wow, I think I liked you better before you had money,” she shoots back, which is both starkly funny, and very telling, considering Eddie’s history. Behind them, a black BMW with Jersey plates eases out of its spot and begins to follow them. Oh, here we go.

CUT TO: A Florida penthouse, windows nicely tinted blue against the mid-day sun outside. I am side-eyeing @ontherockswithsalt pretty damn hard right now, but it’s Dewan, not Noble, getting a massage. He gets a call. It’s Danny, who cheerfully informs him that he is Danny Reagan of the NYPD, and it was Dante who gave up Dewan’s number. Dewan leaps off the massage table, as tall and built as advertised. WHEN SUDDENLY – the two pretty masseuses pull guns on Dewan and announce themselves as cops, just as Danny strolls through the door. (Okay, that was cheesy. But fun.) He rattles of a list of charges he’s planning to make stick to Dewan. He jangles the cuffs as Dewan glares and starts to get dressed.

CUT TO: Eddie and Jamie are driving down the Harlem River Speedway near Park Avenue and 133rd. Jamie is completing his fantasy spending spree with a Reagan Family Foundation of some sort to take care of the families of fallen officers. Eddie casts about for a snark, but comes up empty. “I can’t fault that one,” she admits. “That’s a first,” says Jamie. Hee. I note that he’s awfully chipper for someone who keeps getting his fantasies shot down. I think someone’s missed his buddy.

“I’m still saving beagles with mine, though,” Eddie says, going back to her anti-animal testing plans. “To each his own,” Jamie shrugs. “Her own,” Eddie purrs, looking at him like he’s an ice-cream cone, and Jamie just grins like he’s got it so bad, and okay, seriously? I’m going to have to ask these two what happened on their non-dinner-date last week.

Middle aged white dude is driving the black BMW, and inching closer. Eddie spots a specialty coffee roaster and asks for a stop. Random white dude also pulls in a short distance back. Eddie asks Jamie what he wants, her treat. “Three pound lobster, Dom Perignon,” he requests. Eddie giggles, “You’re such a jerk.” “All right, I’ll have a tea.” She beams at him and climbs out. As she gets into line, Dispatch crackles out an expanded APD on Dante Sorrento – the white dude in the BMW – who, hearing his own description and warnings, gets even more juiced up, and pulls out a silenced semiautomatic.

Jamie, waiting for Eddie, rolls down his window a few inches in the warm sunshine. Eddie, watching her PERSEC like a good officer, keeps a 360 lookout around her, and her eyeline seems to just miss the BMW outside. Dante sets his jaw and starts to move the car into gear, gripping the wheel. Eddie’s neurons ping and she spins around and practically levitates out of the café, hollering Jamie’s name and yelling at people to get down. Having flashbacks, perhaps, to the other time she was just too damn far away and couldn’t run fast enough and Jamie was getting shot at?

Dante eases up beside the cruiser, and he politely calls, “Excuse me, Officer?”

Jamie looks up, catches either a glimpse of Eddie or the sound of her voice, and throws himself down across the seat as Dante fires twice, shattering the window. Eddie, despite being farther away than really useful, returns fire. Dante guns the BMW and takes off. Eddie, still gasping Jamie’s name like a mantra, fires directly through the rear windshield of the BMW, which rear-ends another black sedan into a bridge support.

HOW DARE ANYONE THREATEN MY JAMIE??

Jamie dashes up beside Eddie, assuring her he’s okay, and they both hotfoot towards the BMW. (I wince, because Eddie still has her trigger finger engaged as she runs, and oh, no, you don’t.) Dante is DOA, whether from the crash or Eddie’s hit. Given the fact that he still has a face, I’m going with the crash, though she may have disoriented or winged him.

Jamie, realizing Eddie hasn’t said anything, looks around slowly. Eddie is standing with her gun dangling limply and every emotion spread out across her face.

“That was some shot,” Jamie says, trying to get through to her. “You saved my life.”

REALIZATION HITS. SOMETHING EX MACHINA BUT COOL COOL OK.

But that’s not it. Eddie’s had something of a revelatory experience, and she stutters through trying to explain that she heard a voice telling her Jamie was in trouble before he really was. It’s a nice bit of parallel closure with Frank’s “loud and clear voice” from earlier. Overwhelmed, she crumbles and launches herself into his open arms. Jamie grabs her tight and closes his eyes for a moment before telling her, “I’d spend the five million on you.” She wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his shoulder.

More cruisers pull up beside them and they stay locked together under the bridge, not giving a damn.

PHEW.

CUT TO: Reagan house, this time in sunlight. The family is once again sitting waiting for Jamie, none to patiently. “He’s kind of making a habit of this,” Erin gripes, clearly thinking she’s going to have to take her little brother to task on all this helping-his-partner-study business. Danny suggests changing the statute of limitations on how long they have to wait for him before eating.

Enter Jamie, calling apologies. The family grumbles a greeting as he casually asks Jack to get another place setting. Danny’s eyebrow shoots up. Various people demand to know what’s going on and who’s the company.

The scene devolves into total fanfic at this point. Enter Eddie, reaching for Jamie’s hand. “Oh!” says Erin, as if she’s surprised. “Hey, everyone,” Eddie waves, adorably awkward. There’s a chorus of “Hello!” “Hey” and “Hi” in much the same tones as, “So, are you going to introduce us to your little friend?” Okay, I’m exaggerating, but not by much.

PIANO INTRO: “IF YOOOOU WERE THE ONLY GIRRRL IN THE WORLD...”

“Officer Janko,” Frank greets her. Jamie demurs. “Just Eddie, today, Dad.”

Eddie, always with the timing, says, “Actually, not – just Eddie, today.” They share quite a look. “Well, since this morning – the future Mrs. Jamison Reagan,” Jamie announces as casually as he possibly can, with so many Reagan eyes on them and everything happening so fast. (Well, five years fast, at any rate.)

Understandably, this is the only moment that drops me out of the scene and makes me wince, but mostly because I know how hard it’s going to be to sell this. It definitely takes some willing suspension of disbelief, but…hey, they didn’t know then if they’d be picked up for another season. We knew they were leading up to a massive detonation of emotional release. And life, as the Reagans continually underline, is very short.

There’s a fresh chorus of “Get out!” and “You’re kidding!” for reasons that passeth understanding, unless they’re just gobsmacked the two of them have apparently consolidated years of pair-bonding and leaped over any kind of dating interval to land squarely on “GO”. (WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED YESTERDAY AFTER THE INCIDENT??) Finally the “About times” emerge, and Erin looks absolutely daggers at Danny, who shrugs that he had no clue. Jack (and my readers know I have always had a soft spot for Jack and Jamie’s relationship) share a brotherly handclasp.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Frank eventually says. “Congratulations.”

“Just this morning?” Danny demands “Uh, yeah,” Jamie replies (Will almost sells it, but yeah, for an engagement in a staunchly Catholic family, this is zero to one hundred real fast). Erin and Eddie bond over a shared moment of “Okay, this is very weird but very cool.”

Frank offers them a wedding gift of a transfer, for one of them, to any precinct they want. Erin rolls her eyes. “Gee, Dad, every bride’s dream.”

Jamie points out that nowhere is it written that married cops can’t continue to work together. Which is technically true, but it’s been a Rule since women first came on the Force, for a plethora of good reasons. But instead of a typical Reagan family row, Jamie and Eddie ask the family to consider their vows. (Vanessa just about pulls off the phrase: “Vows…that we wrote to each other.”) Bridget makes it a little more believable with her incredulous, big-sisterly choke on the word. They dewy-eyed duo spar like kids for a moment over which of them has been working on their dream-vows the longest. Which I can actually buy, given the amount of time these two have been fine-tuning their relationship. I could believe that they’d put these ideas into words, even just in their heads, after particularly intense moments in their working partnership.

And of course, being Will and Vanessa, they regroup and somehow deliver the goods entirely in character, even if this is a side of their characters we’ve never seen. It’s matter of fact and rock-solid and their timing is perfect as Eddie leads off with “I will always have your back.”

“If you fall behind, I’ll wait up.”

“I will earn your respect, and pay respect, every day we have.”

“I’ll be your Scout,” (OH JAMIE) “your night-watchman, your cavalry.”

“Your medic, your Chaplain, in our army of two.” (I’M NOT MISTING OVER THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY GLASSES)

“No retreat, no surrender,” Jamie says. This seems to be a new addition, and one Eddie likes, as she chants it back to him.

“You can count on me.”

“And you can count on me.”

An ultra-silence falls over the Reagan table, probably for the first time in ever. Looks are passed from person to person and Eddie shrugs shyly as Erin stares her father down for his response.

“Welcome to our family, Eddie,” he says, smiling into his moustache.

“Thank you,” Eddie says seriously, and then – “Dad.” Because I mean…

They say Grace, Jamie leaning in to teach Eddie the words.

And Erin passes Eddie the potatoes.

HOLY FREAKING HECK.

This was quite a mini-movie episode, in the storyline and in the filming, with tight-in closeups accentuating the increasing claustrophobia of the events, and very still camera work and a minimal soundtrack. Frank’s breathing was the only extra sound in the scenes in his office. I would have loved a 90 minute or even double episode, for a season closer – really get into the backstories and draw out more high-tension action scenes, and, of course, learn what exactly happened between grabbing each other under the bridge and getting engaged?

As to what happens next – I can only hope this means some expanded, multi-episode story arcs for these two, since this isn’t a plot point that can be rolled back or forgotten like so many. (For instance, did Frank forget that Eddie was studying for the Sergeant’s exam, and would likely not be riding with Jamie after she’s promoted, anyway? Would it be too much to hope she takes over from jerkass Maldonaldo as Desk Sergeant, so we have one Reagan working out of the precinct and another shooting for his gold shield?) I know that Will and Vanessa will do brilliantly with whatever they’re given, but can we hope for some good wrangling of personal and professional relationship needs and expectations and boundaries? With Nicky preparing for an NYPD career and Jack off to college soon, will the grandkids get more storylines? AND WHAT ABOUT DANNY AND McKENNA AND FRANK AND KELLY?

Addenda:

Another Jack? That makes Jackie, Jack Boyle, Jack Reagan and now Jack the Cop.

“Future Mrs. Jamison Reagan”...hm. Yes, they’re a traditional and very Catholic bunch, and it was played for dramatic effect, but I’d find it more natural for Jamie to say “my future wife,” and not occlude Eddie’s own name. I could see Eddie keeping her own name professionally just as likely as adopting “Reagan”.

#jamko #blue bloods #Season 8 finale #HOLY HECK

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spacebookettes · 3 years

Text

A Boy without a witches ipad

The Boy was sat behind a container. The witches ipad had been advising every step he took. Only he had forgotten to charge it. The port had been tricky to navigate. Now the Boy was stuck. He could see the big ship but he needed a container with food for his long journey. The automated ship would be lonely but safe if he could find a way on board.

A day-glow butterfly landed on his hand. It turned to look at the boy and stuck out it’s long proboscis. The boy stuck his ‘proboscis’ out back at it. A giggle drifted across the breeze. The boy carefully followed it. A few giggles he heard coming from inside a container. He got inside it. Boxes of butterfly traps with fluorescent colours. Here was as good as anywhere he felt and his anxiety eased around the butterflies. He opened all the traps and fell asleep.

The boy awoke, covered in blinking colours. The walls of the container blinked also. His small lamp was dimming but he could see a picture in the mass of blinking. An image of an old familiar face. His witches face. The container shuddered and clanked down.

He waited

The Boy exited onto a great ship, streams of colour followed him. There was only sea to be seen. The boy was hungry. The fluttering colours rested on one particular container. Inside were boxes of dried fruit cake bread,. Malt loaf his favourite. Enough for everyone.

The end

By Peter Stringer

Mountain Muncher

The vast colossus plucked another mountain and placed it in her bag. A great golden bag filled with craggy peaks. She plucked another mountain and sucked some molten lava from it’s underside, then placed it in her bag. The Scientist loved Mountain Muncher computer game. She especially liked it when the snow from some freezing peak made the colossus sneeze. She liked the back story of little hungry colossus', hungry for mountain delights. The Scientist loved organising the different mountains into types based on nutritional content. A grey rainbow of rock.

The end

By Peter Stringer

The Kid Billionaire

As a kid travelling around some of the world and mostly in Japan, the Young Billionaire developed a talent for making new mates. She was good at making others mates as well... “you could be a rock star” the Young Billionaire believes everyone has an album in them. “you could be the rock star in my movie?”... As a kid the Young Billionaire made little films, daft super silly kid adventures, kid sci-fi and mysteries. Childish horror movies. She always managed to find new people to act in them where ever she went.

The little films had a habit of turning up, after the credits of her grown-up films. Everyone sat through the credits and everyone waited hopefully for a new little comedy mystery from the not too distant past. One day the Young Billionaire would be forced to make an announcement... or perhaps not... a new idea, we’ve heard before.

The end

By Peter Stringer

A cyborg tortoise

Borgtoise had a problem with her laser pointing eye sensor; it kept writing obscene things on the clouds. Flashes of red made temporary words. Words Borgtoise crustily blushed at. Borgtoise made her way at great pace, her legs had been augmented with hover crystals, hover crystals with go faster stripes. Whizzing between tortoise towns.

Borgtoise was very proud of her black chromed cyborg parts. She looked dangerous she felt. Now if she could just save up for the shell cannon she really would be dangerous.

Something was watching Borgtoise from cyborg forest. A metal paw scratched one of the stumpy trees in the forest darkness.

Borgtoise was zooshing toward the gothic spires of another tortoise town. She heard metal clacking shearing sounds coming up behind her. A metallic bunny with one real ear whooshed past. Hover crystals crossed and propelled Borgtoise upside down and onto her carbon fibre shell. “Damn, scratched again.. fucking rabbits.” Borgtoise definitely needed that cannon, if only to stop her upsying on her shell.

A late Borgtoise hovered into the entrance of the tortoise town. She went straight to the cyborg shopping district and looked through the topsy medieval shop window, gazing longingly at one black chromed cannon; an assortment of blaster reloading crystals sat next to it. “Passed my weapons exam… but so expensive.”

Borgtoise made a complaint to the cyborg animal council about nuisance rabbits… again.

Tortoise alley had all the best cyborg bars. Laser sounds and phaser voices sniggered from every doorway. It was really sunny. The large windows were open and an assortment of cyborg animals were dangling their feet (some with hover crystals) into the breezy medieval bar alley.

No rabbits to be seen.

Borgtoise was downloading something onto the crystal drive of some shifty looking creature in dark robes, neon green highlights escaping from under them. They had no visible face. “Thanks Danni” Borgtoise said to the dark void where a face could have been. “Know anybody good with laser targets?”

A mixture of old dilapidated mills, dusty doorways and scratched chrome mechanical trash. Borgtoise knocked on one of the doors. A glowing six fingered hand felt around the outside of the door. ‘Great, another fucking cyborg who loves theatrics’ Borgtoise thought. A mirrored beak followed the glowing hand.

“Eeeeh, you’ll be wanting your laser pointer fixed, I’ll say” said the beak. ‘how did you know' asked Borgtoise. “been a lot of laser problems recently... and I’m the best with lasers". Great thought Borgtoise another lasers mystery.

After Mirror Beak had spent the afternoon wrestling with some colourful language projected on her mill walls, she said a deeply offended goodbye to Borgtoise, who made her way back towards the bustling centre of the tortoise town. She went to Rasping alley this time. Small robots crowded her and cleaned all the flesh that surrounded her cyborg parts. Borgtoise felt like a whole new tortoise. She was also hungry... though a cyborg can largely go without much food and just recharge occasionally. The animal instinct to eat is still with the people of Cyborg animal Planet... and Salad Bar alley has the good crunchy stuff Borgtoise needed. One particular cyborg cafe specialises in tortoise delights... She Shells is it’s name... it does takeout.

Zshoozshing toward another tortoise town. Borgtoise's laser pointer was scanning the horizon for rogue cyborg rabbits. Nothing. She stopped for a cyborg picnic. Bowls of dark green leaves and the occasional yellow, orange and red. From the void box she kept on the side of her shell. (Void boxes, though massively advanced technology are surprisingly something discovered fairly early on in a cultures technological evolution.) She slurped a cabbage sorbet. (Void boxes also come chilled).

So it’s another laser mystery then. I’ll have to contact a time chimp.

Borgtoise searched the void box for a space disk attachment. Found she locks it into place onto her dark chrome cranial cyborg implant. It busily rotates giggling with computer plinking. Borgtoise sent out a space text message; deep into the darker regions of the cosmos.

As Borgtoise finished her last piece of sautéed lettuce, she sat back and said to herself “come on then, where are you... it doesn’t take this long normally.” A gust of wind perked Borgtoise up and she slyly looked around. “sorry I’m late" a voice below her came from inside the void box. “im having troubles again and had to take a less than usual route.” ‘i can see that... i had no idea you had access to my void box.’ A small dark brown chimp with wild grey hair, surrounding it’s yellow face, sat inside the entrance of the void box. Their tail was holding a cup of tea (time chimps have tales, unlike most great apes. Useful opposable tails. ) “needs more soya milk.” “what’s this” the chimp was holding a crystalline, slightly opache, cube. ‘just a family heirloom.’ The time chimp gazed through the cube. A bird sang somewhere in the distance. Borgtoise’s laser pointer wrote something obscene on the bark of a nearby tree.

“Problems with lasers again” pondered the time chimp. “lets ride to a rabbit town.”

Time chimp sat on Borgtoise’s shell as they zooshed toward the multi-coloured confections of a rabbit town skyline. Great bulbous rainbow roofs of saturated tiled misaligned peaks. A technicolour ideal of a gingerbread witch city. Only with rabbits.

A tortoise had not been seen in a rabbit town since the big incident... the great embarrassment the cyborg rabbits called it. So a cyborg tortoise with a time chimp on their back caused quite a few wide eyed stares. Many un-cyborged birds sat on the rooftops twittering. They scattered when a massive crash crunched somewhere around a corner. Someone had misjudged with their carrot and dandelion juice cart when they couldn’t believe the scene within their cyborg eye. (Cyborg rabbits are cyclops' generally and are almost entirely cyborged, except for one instinctive ear.) Where are all these un-natural birds coming from wondered Borgtoise. And where is time chimp: they sauntered from around a corner with some cheap candy store Xray spectacles. “ingenious really... a super weapon... but how to neutralise them?” ‘what?’ asked Borgtoise. “oh nothing, it’s just important for the plot later.”

A little solo bird song came from a nearby rooftop and the Xray spectacles fizzed with a little escaping smoke; time chimp took them off. “The writer has written themselves into a corner and they expect me to get them out of it.” “you see the unnatural birds are actually cyborgs, just with the feathers and skin intact. You haven’t noticed the bird song, who would!” “the songs are little computer programs, infecting the cyborg parts of the cyborg animals.” ‘that’s dastardly’ said Borgtoise. “yes, but now I have to find a solution... I’m glad you never bought your cannon Borgtoise.” "perhaps something with noise cancelling."

The end

By Peter Stringer

#creative writing #short story #scifi #fantasy #witch #butterflies #art #silly story #adventure

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lenin-it-to-win-it · 6 years

Text

the lorax, but everytime a character appears its bnha and every time u read it u want 2 die

summary: oh you know damn well whats coming, sweetie

notes: its 2:35 am. i spent over an hour writing this. pls clap.

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

it was a suny day in thneedville and the sun was shining but it was COLD and DARk in dekus hart as he gazed sadly off intot he distance. “mommm wy doesnt todoroki senpai-san NOTICE me???”” he lameneted to his mom.

“maybe its ur ugly little pissbaby child face” inko suggested as she cooked up a spaghety for brekfast.

“how can i impress him??” deku questioned

“try lifting, cucklord” said his grandma recovery girl as she casually bench bressed 600 pounds of rocks.

“how bout i find him a plant insted?” deku sugested thinking about the tre todoroki painted on his house. he had asked todoorki if he liked trees and he sed ‘ya sur i gues’. “bitches lov plants”

“yeeee i kno wat u mean giv him some *lettuce*” recovery gorl winked

“wat a bout a tree” “but TREEs are DEAD” inko exlciamed! she threw the spagheti on the floor for dramtic effect and cltuched dekus head in his hands. “Son do not SPEAK of such things or The All For One’HAre Corporation Copyright TM wil BUST thru the ROOF and kill you! Now sit down and eat ur capitalism! Consumerism is god hallejeuluah amen!”

“tree” deku whisperd

the hose exploded and every1 died but they were okey. avaracious all-for-one’hare, a tiny liitle with a shiny bowlcut and tiny little man feet bitchslaped deku across the face. “NO TREES ALLOUD!!1!” he shrieked. he bloo a kiss ot dekus mom “that plate of capitalism u have is cooking upped looks lovly mam”

inko blsuhed. “thanks”

“just make sure to keep the kiddo here away from any” all-for-one’hare, lowered his voice, which was hard bc he was already so short and low and close tothe flor. “trees”

inko gASPed! “of CORSE! i wil keep him away from the place where the trees once were by the Forbindden WAll u buildt with ur money to keep out the Bad COmmunist SentimentsTM”

recovery girl made shifty suspicious looks on her face “sure yea me too”

all-for-one’hare, was convinced. “I AM CONVINECED” he sed “by felicia!” he hopped on his hoverbord and hoverborded away.

inko cleaned the spaghety off the flor and recovery girl pulled deku by the leg into the backyard. “YO FUCKER U BETTER RUN UR ASS OVER THE COMMIE WALL AND GET A TREE SO U CAN START SLINGIN SOME MAD PUSS”

“but gramma im gay”

“then start slingin some nuts my d00d the POINT is get a TRE e” she scremed. “when i was, a yung boi, my ffather, took me over the wall, to see a bunch of trees, he sed son when, u grow up, dont kill them , the trees, and bring the nonbelievers, to come and plant new trees”

“k”

she siezed dekus sholders “GO FORTH CHILD BRING THE TREES SO WE CAN MAKE THEM GROW ANEW AS THE PROPHECY HAS FORETOLD, OUT BEYOND THE WALL LIVES A MYSTERIOUS MAN CALLED THE ONCE-FOR-ALLER, FIND HIM, HE WILL TELL YOU HIS TRAGIC TALE OF TREE AND BRING NEW LIFE TO THIS BARREN CAPITALIST HELLSCAPE, NOW GO”

“k” deku hopped on his totaly radicel scooter headed 2 the wall. a robot cat watched him forehsadowingly.

it was hella empty over the commie cuck wall with not even a bORger king in site!!!1! tree stumps covered the flor and clouds of smonk from a thousand vape pens darkened the sky. a ded bird lay deadly on the ground while its bird children cried over its bird corpse. it was sad. deku took a sad face selfie with the ded bird then did a sick ollie over the corpse and headed toward the mysterious shack in the distants.

the shack had a bucket in front of the dor labeled “piss”. deku hopped on in the piss bucket “YO ONCE-FOR-ALLER U GOT KIK??” he cried. wind wistled past his ears and he coffed from the vape smoke but then the pis buckt got pulled up on a ROPE and deku found himself hOISted up to a wINdOW!!!! he stareed face to face at a pair of black eyes with blue spots in the middle like limpid tears and some long bony arms with glvovs and yaoi hands reached out to slap him.

“WHAT” he yelled “ARE YOU DOOING” he leaned closer “IN MY SWWAAAAAAMP!????”

deku wet his pants and criied. “i sutjj,,, i jstu wann, t a t;rree,,” he said sobbily. “i,m tr yiyng to get s enpai , t o noticnse me,, an ,n and i thgout,, i fi got, hima t,r,ree, he wo uld liek me”

“fucken millenials” snarled the once for aller “its always senpai this, thrussy that, my neck my back, my snapping-chat, wy wold i giv u a tre??”

“b-because i,, i brought u a SPAGHETTY” deku exxclaimed, pulling pounds of spagheetyi out of his pockets

the once for aller slorped up the spaghetti hongrily “ya ok i gues i can tel u my storey now. its a dark and trageic tale of capitalism, like the star wors preqols” a tear ran down his bony old cheek. “but insted of jar jar binks thers only me, booboo the fool”

there was a crossdissolve and suddenly they were in the once-for allers past where he was a big bara man with bara tiddies and twinky skinny geans no where near the size needed to accomodate for his phat dong. he rode along in a cariege puled by a single muel

“FASTER AIZAWA KUN” cried the once-for-aller hapily. “those proletariats arent gonna exploit themselves!”

aizawa the mule grunted sexily and plowed on, workin that tight little mule ass.

the once-for-aller started shredding out a sick nasty solo on an elextric guitar and it was RAD AS HELL as he blasted out the opening cords to jake pol’s magmnum opiss “its everyday bro”. “we gotta dab on those haters aizawa kun” said the once-for aller with a very gay wink

aizawa the mule grunted in annoyance. he could not dab, for his sexy mule bodey had no arms.

they fond a metric shitload of trees and there were like wildlifes and shit running around. bears (like endeovor) froclikced int he woods with their hairy bara nippels exposed 2 the world, tsuyu and her frog pals swam in the woter, and tokoyami the borb boy floo in the sky wich was pure and clean without a single trace of vape smoke. the tres looked fuckable so the once for aller busted a nut against one trunk then wipped out a glock and started shootin them down “YEHAW fuCKERS iTS HIGH NOON” he screamed in texan, his native language, as he mowed downt he trees the way present mics sexy voice mows down the pussey.

sudenly DANY DEVITO IN A FURSOOT APEARED. he was tiny and magestic and orange and so fucken valid. also he was grand toledo. “CUNT” he yelled kicking the once for aller in th e kneecaps. “THIS IS THE ENVIROMENT!!!!1! YOU CANT JUST START WEED WACKIN THES TREES WITH YOUR YANKEE DONGLE DANDY AND SHOOTING THEM WITH GUNS!1! THAT IS BAD AND WRONG! CAPTIN PLANET DIED FOR OUR SINS”

the once for aller looked down at the tiny orange man then down at his own big bulgin bara tiddes “i cold crush u 2 deth with my tiddys, maybe u shuld stay out of my way dude’

dany deveto gasped angrely. “how DARE!!1!” he screamed, punching the once-for-allers big toe. “BUDDY I WILL PERSONALLY FUCK YOUR GRAVE WITH MY OWN TWO ASSCHEEKS IF YOU SAY ONE MORE FUCKING WORD, I DEFY U TO TALK SHIT, COME AT ME SCRUBLORD IM RIPT”

“try me gardfielf” the once for aller laffed “iv ben drinkign plenty of nut milk so my boneses are helthy and Stronk”

daney devito pulled out his 20 inch thunderdong and beat the once for aller in the head with it until he was past oout on the ground. the woodland crreatures danced hapily around the bodey but then he woke up

“u kno wat” he moaned “mabye capitalism isnt so good, lets al liv together in communism and friendship, and i wont cut and/or fucc any of the trees”

danny deveto was mostly appeased. “ya ok, but if u try anymore fuckin shit ill go back in time and cuck ur grandparents.”

dannneie dievoto tried to hav the once-for aller killed on at least 10 separate occasions and the once for aller did slip in some clandestine tree fuckage now and agein, but other than that the communism and friendship was good. but everything changed went he fire nation atteacked, they defeeted endevor esily but then the once for allers slutty, sluty family showed up to REEK HAVICK :0 !!!1!

the once for allers ugley mom, sir nighteye, stepped out of their cheap car and did the anime glasses thing “toshi u commie thot” he said with distaste “stop being poor”

“but MOM” the once for aller wined “i HAV to be por! its good for the envorionemnt and my new animal frends and if i dont dany devito will beat me over the head with his massive meaty man-canoe!”

“dont b lil bitch, do a capitalism.”

the once for allers loud cosin hizashy jumped out of the wagon. “YAINT” he shrieked at 1000000 decibels, killing 90% of life on erth. “ARE WE GON FUCK SOME TREES OR WHAT”

the once for aller looked at his disproving mom, then at his loud cosin, then at the very fuckable trees. his eyes lingered on a sexy sap hole. “yea we are” he said, pulling out his gitar sexily. “how bad could it posbiley be??”

the answer was prety fucken bad as it turned out. a metric fuckton of people paid to watch the once for aller and his family fuck trees to deth by throwing moneey at them like they were stripers, but then al the tres were fucked ded!!11! the bears starved into ity bity twinks, unable to maintain the THicc, tsuyu and the frogs choked and coffed up water ful of human piss as they peed in the water while laughing in delite at the once for allers antics, and tokoyami and the birbs coffed out their organs from the clouds of vape smoke filing the sky.

soon ther was no one left. the once for allers familey left with al the money, aizawa the fuckable mule was ded, and it was just the once for aller allone in the rouns of his former capitalistc glory with only the bright yellow banana suit on his back to remind him of those days.

dani devioto looked at the once for aller with sad eyes before kciking his own ass so hard he got sent rocketing thru the stratusphere, leaving behind an imapct crater with a single word

“cunt” deku whispered softly in the present as he gazed into the crator.

the once for aller sighed sadley. “iv wondered for years and yeers wat he ment by that, but i think i understand now. unless some1 like u stops being a cunt, then nothign is gona get better, u nut”

“shit fam thats deeep” sed deku

the once for aller looked at dekus pissbaby child face. “i lost evrything to capitalism, my friends, nature, my family” teers rolled down his cheks “i even sold my organs to buy cocane and strippers so now i hav a total of 2 orgens in my hole bodey.”

“kinky”

“but we can change that!” cried the once for aller passionetely. “i am going 2 giv u a tree to plant in thneedvil so communism can return and bring back the life stole from this world with my big stick diplomacy. go now, young midorieya-shonen my boy, GO FORTH IN THE NAME OF COMMUNISM AND UN-CUNT THIS MISEREBLE WORLD!!1!”

ther was an epic radicel chase seen wher deku had to fite the The All For One’HAre Corporation Copyright TM and his grandma recovery girl did sik triks on her moped and deku almost but not quite got to kis todorki senpai but they made it to the town square.

deku held todorokis hands and tenderly put the baby tre in it “here” he sed “take my seed”

todoroky noded solemly. “i hav never wanted anything more than to be given ur seed midoreya” he was about 2 plant the seed in the ground when all for one’hare appered! “NOT SO FAST FUCKHOLES” he yelled capitalistically. “this TRee is COMMuNISM!!1!” he cried to the townspeople. “do u RELLY want to be FILTHY COMMIES???”

“Commies hate micdonaleds!!1” screamed one impassoned townsperson.

“LETS BOIL THEM IN OIL” some one else agred.

“but guys wait!!!” deku cried “dont u want like, nature n shit?”

“CAPITALISTS WANT TO REPLACE EVERY REMOTELY FUCKABLE PERSON WITH A TREE” all for one’hare screamed

teh twonspoeple gasps, thens tarted chanting for deku todo and grandma to get boiled in oil

deku sweated nervosly “um but,, treees,, r good?”

“OIL OIL OIL”

“BACK IN MY DAY WE FUCKED TREES AND WE LIKED IT” recovery girl rored!

that was acomeplling argument. the boil in ooil chanting slowed

all for one turned to his henchperson stain “STAIN” he yelled “TEL THESE HIPPY DIPPY COMMIE TREE FUCKERS WHAT WE REALLY THINK OF THIS CAPTEN PLANET B-ROLL BULLSHIT”

stain cleered his throt and burst into magnificent song “let it gro let it gro, so we can have trees to bone” he sang. he was The Ultimate ChadTM so every1 agreed with him imediately. they throow all for one’hare into a pit of spiders where eh was eten and killed and planted the seed in the fertile butthole of the earth wher it could blosom and gro.

in the folowing yeers trees started groiwng beyond the wals and the once for aller crawled out of his shame sahck to water them with his nut as an act of penanc.e

slowly, magesticsally, danny devito in a fursewt flew down from the sky. “ya done good cunt” he grunted, tenderly slapping the once for allers boney ass with his furry orange old man boner. “ya done good.”

they both floated up to gay heaven by their ass skins wher the once for allers big bara past self greeted them with open arms. “all of ur trubles are ogre” he whispered tenderly in their tidditlyated ears.

the once for aller caressed his past self “oh oncey” he whispered sweetly “are u shure we should do this?? can u even,,, oh, how can u love me in this broken down form??”

past once for aller smiled and did the kabedon thing with his future self who whimpered arousedly and blushed carnelian. “its not who we are on the outside” he shoved his entire arm up his entire ass“its who we are inside”

danney devito cheered the once for allers on as they fucked together for all of eterneity and it was very communiest teh end

#bnha #all might #deku #lorax au #selfcest #i managed to work it in #at the very end #i Had TO

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melanshi · 7 years

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Rot and Wither

Ectober 2017 Day 1- Plague

Characters: Undergrowth and Danny (also a bunch of nameless doomed ocs ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Notes: undergrowth backstory? undergrowth backstory!

Warnings: Character Death (i wasn’t joking about those poor ocs being doomed)

His daughter, his youngest child and his only girl, was the first to fall ill. It happened too quickly. One second, she was cheerful as normal, cleaning up from the night’s dinner, chatting with her mother and their maid. The next second, she was on the ground, unable to breathe, choking on her own saliva and blood.

They’d brought her to a bedroom immediately and he sent his eldest to fetch the town doctor, who lived a good 3 hours horse ride away, giving him a trip of 6 hours back and forth.

His daughter didn’t last 6 hours.

She didn’t last 3.

She died in her own bed, suffocating on blood, a mere two hours after she’d collapsed.

She was buried on the edge of the farmland the following morning.

As they returned back to the house, dressed in clothes of mourning, the horse his son had taken returned.

His eldest son never did.

And then the maid collapsed.

He’d heard rumors of the plague, creeping across the mainland, leaving little in its wake. The foreigners who went to town spoke often of it, in rushed voices, as if one of them may come down with it at any second, and with shifty gazes. Back then, he’d thought of it as a hoax, a money-making tactic so they could travel and sell their goods and mooch off of the people.

But after seeing what had happened to his daughter, he knew the truth. The plague was real.

And it had struck his farm.

As his last son carried the maid back to the house, he pulled his wife into the kitchen and spoke in hushed whispers to her. He told her about the plague and what the foreigners had said about the wave of death it brought. They needed to get out of here, he told her. They needed to leave.

There was a crash in the next room.

His son, his wife, the maid... none of them had made it through the night. He buried them next to his daughter.

The shovel shook in his hands as he covered each grave with the dry dirt and for good reason too.

He wasn’t the sole survivor of the plague.

No, he was its next victim.

He left the shovel next to the graves. After all, it wasn’t going to ever be used again. He lived too far from town. No one would notice his absence. No one would bury him next to his wife and children and maid.

Without realizing it, he wandered back into the house. The floorboards creaked unevenly under his dirty boots and they echoed like phantoms into the desolate house.

The rusty gardening can rested peacefully on the windowsill, ignorant to the horrors that had overtaken the once happy home. It looked out on the fields, watching as the grain and the corn swayed gently in the September breeze. It didn’t see his daughter collapse. It didn’t see his son bring the dying maid in. It didn’t hear the boy collapse, the poor woman falling out of his arms. It didn’t hear his agonizing sobs as his wife fell to the same fate as their children. It didn’t know. It would never know.

The can fit perfectly in his worn hands, as if it was made specifically for him. He brought it over to the sink, avoiding the dark blood stain on the floor, the last remnant in the house of his little girl.

Once the can was filled, his feet led him the rest of the way: through the house, down the stairs, down the stone path, into the garden.

The plants were always thirsty. Just like his kids were always hungry. He gave them what they wanted until the can was empty.

The gardening can was abandoned, never to be used again.

The center of the garden was where he chose to make his final resting place.

After all, he had always told himself he would die surrounded by his family. And with his wife and kids and maid dead, the plants were all he had left.

So he sat.

And he waited.

The sound of the motorcycle screeched through the area like an atomic bomb. People rarely visited this section of the country after all. Half of it was overgrown and most of the animals had never come into contact with a human before.

The rider, a tall scrawny man in his early twenties, stopped the bike in front of a partially overgrown trail. There was no way he could get through the path with his ride. He got up and dropped the helmet onto the seat on the bike, revealing a head of messy black hair.

“This path?” he thought out loud. He grabbed a messenger bag, one decorated with a patch advertising Amity Park Community College and a pin with the famous Phantom symbol printed on it, from the bike and swung it over his shoulder. “Eh, twenty-third time’s the charm.”

He set off through the path, pushing past thorns and prickers. He tried to ignore the cuts that they tore through his skin and the red and the green dripping from them, seemingly dead set on staining his new jeans. He refused to cut them back. After all, he’d learned his lesson with messing with plants.

The path broke out into a clearing, just beginning to grow back from a small fire that had plagued the area a year or two ago. Here the newcomer paused, making a mental note of where he had come from. Looking around at the peaceful forest, he vaguely wondered if this was even the right way to his destination.

Then he saw it.

Peaking up from the ground, side by side in a row too even to have been natural, were four rocks.

He approached the sight and stared for a second. No wonder this place seemed so peaceful. It was a graveyard.

Although no ghost appeared to him, he could feel the abundance of ectoplasm in the air.

That way, it seemed to say. Go that way.

He was on the right path.

He had no idea how long he had been trapped in that retched thermos but being released felt like being reborn again.

With a breath he didn’t need to take, he glared down at the small half ghost standing before him, surrounded by blooming flowers. Or, well, before and beneath him.

“Puny human, do you really think you could contain...” he trailed off mid-boast.

This place... this garden...

He’d been here before.

Danny seemed to notice this and grinned. “Where are we, Undergrowth?”

He didn’t need to respond to the pesky brat. Instead, he glided over to a small rusty watering can, half buried by the dirt. One side of it was missing, weathered away by the rain and the wind and the snow.

It fit perfectly in his hand.

“Where are we?” Danny repeated.

“I don’t... I...”

These plants. They felt familiar. Like children. No, no. Not children. Like.... grandchildren or great-grandchildren.

“I...”

A woman’s face pressed through his thoughts, laughing and smiling, holding a baby girl in her arms. Pressed to the sides of her dress were two little boys, desperately trying to see the child in her arms. Another woman hurried around in the background, attempting to clean up from a meal, it seemed.

“I... I...”

He turned back to Danny, still clutching the watering can as if it was his last link to the human world, to find that he’d moved to the side.

Revealing a skeleton barely sticking out of the dirt. Through the eye sockets of the skull, roses grew in an abundance of colors. White and red and yellow and pink.

One flower stood out though. Growing in both eye sockets like pupils were two lilies.

He knew where he was.

#ectober week 2017 #danny phantom #danny fenton #undergrowth #mel writes #/death

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mitchbeck · 5 years

Text

CANTLON: PACK LOSE IN A SHOOTOUT TO LAVAL

BY: Gerry Cantlon, Howlings LAVAL, QUEBEC - After a truly hard fought 65 minutes of Sunday afternoon hockey, the Hartford Wolf Pack saw Alex Belizle scoring the lone goal in the shootout to give the Laval Rocket a 2-1 win. Belizle used a delayed toe drag and then flipped a backhander past Wolf Pack netminder, Adam Huska. Ice bags would be necessary for both teams in this highly physical contest that took nearly three hours to play. The third period saw the two teams push hard to score the second goal. The Wolf Pack thought they had a game winning goal when defenseman, Mason Geersten, was in front of the net only to have his first shot stopped by Cayden Primeau. On his second chance, Geersten was knocked into Primeau by Laval’s Antoine Waked with 8:16 left. The red light was on and the Wolf Pack were celebrating, but a little prematurely as the referees and lineman consulted and waved off the goal for a crease violation. They looked at the video board showing a replay and denied Geersten the game winner and what would have been a, "Gordie Howe Hat Trick." Wolf Pack head coach, Kris Knoblauch, raced down the bench screaming at the officials Connor O’Donnell, and Carter Sandlak. He was very unhappy with their decision when asked about it in the post game. “’We thought we had scored the go-ahead goal. The arena puts the replay on the screen (video board), which they are not allowed to do (when its under review). The referees are looking at that replay, so they changed their minds. "I’m very frustrated. We worked so hard, and played so hard, to have it taken away like that,” Knoblauch said while doing his best to contain himself. When asked if a notice would be sent by the team to the league, Knoblauch replied, “The league has already commented on it, that it was the wrong play (call) very simply, they (the officials) messed up." Geersten had a jagged Zorro-like cut on his nose and was a bear on his skates as he made his presence felt all night. He was stoic about the events as he headed for post game medical treatment. “They're a quick, fast team out there. It was a pretty physical, chippy game. I really thought I had it there,” He said. The defensive duo of Geersten and Joey Keane were excellent from the start of the game and on both ends of the ice. “They were both so good out there all night. Defensively, being physical, and offensively they were solid. Geersten obviously has the reputation of being a physical defenseman. (Joey) Keane doesn’t get enough recognition for his play as a physical defenseman. He’s always giving his body laying it down out there and finishing his checks. Those two were just outstanding.” After a long stretch with the Wolf Pack tightening the defensive screws, Huska came up with a ten-bell-ringer save on Jake Evans. Huska was ready as Evans was in the right wing circle and dove forward and getting a piece of the shot with just 1:12 remaining in regulation. “I was just lucky there. I threw myself out there,” Huska said with a Cheshire cat smile. It was a skill move by the humble rookie goalie to make that stop. At the start of the second period, the Pack continued their late first period progress and tied the game just 49 seconds into the second frame. Keane was at the right point and took his defensive partner's pass and just sent it on net where it eluded Primeau, who was screened by Matt Beleskey. For Keane, it was his team leading fifth of the season. “It was a good, low shot on net, and it was made possible by the screen of Beleskey taking away Primeau’s eyes. He doesn’t get the assist, but that play made it possible,” Knoblauch said of the veteran winger. Huska was named the game’s Third Star and was able to repel several of Laval's wide open chances. Matt Peca, the one time Quinnipiac University product, is off to a slow start. He's a minus-six through five games. He had a solid goal scoring opportunity at 8:18 off a breakaway chance that Huska denied Then he made another gorgeous pad save on Ryan Poehling’s wide open chance. With 3:01 remaining, Huska stopped Michael McCarron twice, the second time coming with a screen from ex-Pack, Dale Weise. Vejdemos' backhanded attempt was denied by Huska's left pad and then he was denied again a shot from the left wing side. “In the second period, we gave up way too many quality chances. Adam was just sensational. We’ve had a lot success so far this season because of our goaltending,” commented Knoblauch. The game was physical and a chippy contest from the outset. There was plenty of hitting with skirmishes breaking out several times in the second period as both teams had played three times in the last eight days with animosity getting well-established. Geersten was in the middle of it. After hitting Laval’s Jake Evans with a clean hard hit, in the left wing corner, he turned and dropped his gloves knowing somebody was coming. Anthony Waked was outmatched against the much bigger player. On the next shift, Vinni Lettieri and Weise jostled each other and near the end of the period Danny O’Regan was hit with a double minor for high sticking. Vejdemos tried to wrestle him to the ice with 7.5 seconds left in the period. The Rocket started their game picking up were they left off in the last one with a 7-2 shot advantage over the first half of the opening period. Huska was in top form, especially on Victor Olofsson’s open blade redirect that looked like it had the top shelf. Huska made a strong lateral save using his right shoulder to make the stop. Alex Belizle followed with a quality opportunity from 20-feet-out several seconds later. “I felt pretty good today. It was the best I felt so far in the AHL. I saw him coming backdoor and I knew he was gonna pass it to him. I just waited for him to make that pass,” Huska said ever so nonchalantly of the superb play. The Rocket's next shift and next shop came with the shot hitting the back of the net. Former Quinnipiac University product, Matt Peca, came down the left wing and got a gift as Vincent LoVerde’s clearing attempt hit the metal stanchion and the puck came right to him. From 15-feet out he made the pass to Antoine Waked who found the puck through a maze of players, and then registered his first goal at 12:28. Waked was just recalled from Adirondack (ECHL) and earned a half bear hug from head coach ex-Pack, Joel Bouchard. At that point, the Pack needed a quick pick-me-up and Mason Geersten tried his best to please his teammates. First, he challenged Michael McCarron in front of the Pack bench and he wouldn’t go. He got him with a high-stick earlier and was cut that neither official called. Then his next shifty he lined up Waked for a good clean hard hit at center ice that was amazingly called a roughing penalty. The Pack killed off the chance and then got a surprising late power play chance as Laval got their man-advantage. It looked like Keane and Belizle had dropped the mitts after a collision near the Pack blue line, but the linesman stepped in but gave Belizle got the extra two for a crosscheck. That woke up the Pack offense. They went on to launch six shots on net before finally forcing Primeau, the son the ex-Whaler Keith to have to work. Phil DiGuiseppe fired two and Matt Beleskey had one. The two teams don’t meet again till Valentine’s Day. Pretty safe bet that they will not be exchanging candy or flowers. PACK LINES: Nieves-Beleskey-Di Giuseppe Gettinger-Lettieri-Fogarty O’Regan-Fontaine-Newell Jones-Meskanen-Zerter-Gossage LoVerde-Raddysh Taylor-Ebert Geersten-Keane SCRATCHES: Sean Day Ty Ronning NOTES: The Wolf Pack power outage on the power play continues as the team went 0-for-6 with their success rate dropping to an abysmal 8.8%. When asked if Geersten had had any "Gordie Howe Hat Tricks" in his career, he responded with a laugh saying, “Had a few in juniors none yet in the pro’s. Thought I had one tonight.” One of the first "Gordie Howe Hat Tricks" in Wolf Pack history came from big Steve McIntyre in Hershey circa 2004-05. Weise was in the opening lineup with McCarron and Charles Hudon. Igor Shesterkin continues to produce strong numbers in the AHL on par with what he did in the KHL. He was rewarded with being named, "The CCM/AHL Goaltender for the Month of October." In six games, Shesterkin has a 5-1-0 record, with the AHL's fifth best GAA of 1.49. He's surrendered just nine goals. The three he allowed on Wednesday were the most in any of his six games. He also sports a .942 save percentage, good for the AHL's sixth best. The Russian rookie is not classified as such because of his time in the KHL. He has the AHL's sixth highest minutes played at 363:19 behind only Cal Petersen (Ontario), Garrett Sparks (Toronto), Ville Husso (San Antonio), Casey DeSmith (Wilkes Barre/Scranton) and Chris Dreidger (Springfield). Shesterkin will start Saturday night in Belleville. Ex-Pack, Josh Wesley, was recalled from Tulsa (ECHL) from San Antonio. Cole Cassels, the son of former Hartford Whaler, Andrew Cassels, was loaned from Utah (ECHL) to Belleville, where the Wolf Pack play tomorrow night at the CAA Arena. After five games, ex-Pack, Shawn O’Donnell, has three points. He has left Allen (ECHL). The Toronto Maple Leafs continue their roster shuffle to remain cap compliant and it affects their AHL farm team, the Toronto Dreidger. Nic Petan was reassigned this morning after playing just four games with the Leafs. He had two goals and an assist against Belleville in a 7-4 win where he played on a line with former Yale Bulldog, Kenny Agostino. The team also traded former Canadiens farmhand, Ryan Johnston, to the San Diego Gulls. He was with Montreal for two years. Johnston was in Sweden last year with Mora IK, but the Leafs signed him to a one year AHL-deal in July. He has yet to play this year. Johnston played ten games with no points over two seasons with Montreal and played on the last two of the Canadiens' farm teams in St. John’s. The Flyers sent down Big Samuel Morin, and recalled three players from Lehigh Valley in German Rubtsov, Carsen Twarynski, and Philippe Myers. Tanner Jago was recalled by Texas from Idaho (ECHL). After just nine games, ex-Sound Tiger, Mike Sislo, had three assists with EHC Wolfsburg (Germany-DEL). He has requested that his contract be dissolved and he announced his retirement because of a back injury. He played 483 games in the AHL, mostly with Albany, but he has also spent time with San Antonio, Toronto, Tucson, and Bridgeport. Future Wolf Pack center, Karl Henriksson, a second round pick (59th overall) last summer by Vancouver was elevated from Frolunda HC J-20 (Super Elite) to Sodertalje SK (Sweden-Allsvenskan). Henriksson is off to a strong start. In 17 games, he has 18 assists and 23 points for Frolunda and is now playing in the second highest league in Sweden as an 18 year old. He had a very strong camp in Traverse City opening the eyes of many. More than likely, Henriksson will be on the Swedish WJC team in December when the annual Christmas time hockey tourney hits the Czech Republic in Ostrava, and Trinec. While currently unsigned don’t be surprised next spring when his Swedish season is done, he will be pulling a Wolf Pack sweater over his head. Read the full article

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junker-town · 5 years

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A scouting report for each player from ‘Little Giants’

Becky “Icebox” O’Shea was the star player for the Giants in “Little Giants” | Warner Brothers production / SB Nation illustration

Let’s grind the tape and come up with some NFL comparisons for the characters in “Little Giants.”

Early in Little Giants, coach Kevin O’Shea — a former Heisman Trophy winner played by Ed O’Neill — holds tryouts for a youth football team and picks all the good players for his Cowboys squad. With one exception.

He whiffs badly (and sexistly) by not letting his niece, Becky, play on his team even though she’s clearly the best. And honestly, why were there even tryouts in the first place? Just let all the kids be on the team. Were the roster limits that strict? Hasn’t he ever heard of a depth chart?

But if a group hadn’t gotten left out, we wouldn’t have the great comeback story the movie turns out to be.

After some practice time to shape up, Coach Danny O’Shea (played by Rick Moranis) gets his Giants team of outcasts (relatively) ready for their big game against the Cowboys. The matchup turned out to be a tale of two halves. The Giants go to halftime down 21-0, but — spoiler alert — come back to win with four touchdowns in the second half.

Given a chance at a do-over, Kevin O’Shea might think differently about how he’d pick teams. With the benefit of hindsight and a little bit of game tape, let’s break down the strengths and weaknesses of all the players from Little Giants.

Becky “Icebox” O’Shea

Position: Fullback/Linebacker

Throughout the movie, Icebox is referred to as a fullback by both herself and her father. I don’t doubt that she’s great there, but we don’t get to see much of it. The only time we do is on the final play, the Annexation of Puerto Rico, when she is just a decoy who doesn’t even have the ball. What we do get to see is that she’s an absolute star at linebacker.

Icebox can lay the wood.

She spends the first half of the game as a cheerleader — a main reason why the team falls behind 21-0 — but she’s a lights-out defender in the second half. Cowboys running back Spike Hammersmith is running roughshod over the team early in the game. He couldn’t do a thing with Icebox in his way.

I mean, look at this freakin’ goal-line stand.

Sideline-to-sideline speed, fearless instincts, and the toughness to destroy a player much larger than her. Icebox is a first-round pick. Shame on you, Kevin O’Shea, for ever thinking otherwise.

Pro comparison: Undersized, but hard-hitting Steelers LB Mark Barron

Junior Floyd

Position: Quarterback

Most of the evidence that Junior is an awesome quarterback came during practices. The only significant throw he makes in the game was a deep ball that bounces off the back of Rashid “Hot Hands” Hanon.

He’s gone for most of the second half after taking a cheap shot, right after delivering a huge hit of his own.

Junior is out of the game from that point until he comes back on the field for the last play. While we don’t see many throws from Junior, he does show off his hands and athleticism on the Giants’ first large gain of the second half.

With the exception of Icebox, Junior’s the best player on the Giants. It’s unfortunate that the last play of the game was the only one where both Junior and Icebox are on the field together.

Junior wasn’t at the original tryout. If he had been, he’d be on the Cowboys, because the kid’s got it all. Another first-round pick, for sure.

Pro comparison: Former Colts QB Andrew Luck who couldn’t stay healthy, but could make a huge tackle, if needed

Rashid “Hot Hands” Hanon

Position: Wide receiver

From start to finish, Hanon is talked up as a receiver with an inability to catch. So much so that he puts an absurd amount of stickum — an adhesive that was made illegal in the NFL long before Little Giants came out — to help him catch. It seems like the issue isn’t Hanon’s hands, though; it’s his confidence.

He’s a deep threat who can burn any defensive back but one who’s struggling with the yips. Even when he accidentally glues his hands to his chest with the stickum, he still manages to torch the defense.

You try racing someone with your hands flat against your chest. It’s not easy.

It’s not too surprising, then, that Hanon is able to make a play once he gets out of his own head:

That’s a game-breaking speed right there and a huge miss by Coach Kevin O’Shea. If nothing else, his Cowboys team could’ve used that quickness in the secondary.

Pro comparison: Saints WR Ted Ginn Jr., a speedy, former habitual pass dropper

Tad “Rad Tad” Simpson

Position: Running back

Tad’s weakness is that he’s absolutely terrified of contact. His very useful defense mechanism is that he’s excellent at avoiding it.

Running in circles and not gaining yardage is not ideal, but you really have to respect this elusiveness, while also asking what on earth some of these defensive players are thinking.

Here’s his fear of getting hit coming in handy again.

And again, with a Lamar Jackson-esque juke:

I really worry what’s going to happen when Tad actually gets hit, but his aversion to it is at least bringing out some impressive moves.

Pro comparison: Shifty and elusive Bears RB Tarik Cohen

Rudy Zolteck

Position: Offensive line/Defensive line

At one point in the movie, Steve Emtman, the No. 1 pick in the 1992 NFL Draft, teaches Rudy that football is much a mental game as it is a physical one. That lesson apparently didn’t sink in until the second half, because Rudy gets pancaked early in the game by a blocker.

When Rudy remembers to believe in himself (and also use a little leverage for a change), he delivers a crushing block of his own.

It’s honestly tough to tell if Rudy is any good. He certainly seems to find more success on the offensive line than the defensive line. His consistency is lacking, though.

Pro comparison: The not nearly consistent enough Washington OT Ereck Flowers

Jake Berman

Position: Honestly, I have no clue

Berman’s mostly comic relief with his one-liners and his overly enthusiastic and overprotective mom. His first notable moment in the game is when he disappears into his own uniform like a turtle — which is ridiculously impressive and definitely impossible.

But like any true cinematic momma’s boy, he has to lay out a player who disrespects his mom.

Jake’s also the one who runs the final leg of the relay in the game-winning “Annexation of Puerto Rico.”

What we know about Jake is that he’s small, not fast, not athletic, but pretty mean and fearless when he’s pissed off.

Pro comparison: Noted “Mama” defender, Vonn Bell

Johnny “Viper” Vennaro

Position: Running back

The only big moment for Johnny comes late in the game when his dad — previously too busy to play with his son — shows up. Excited to see his dad and give him a hug, Johnny runs through the whole Cowboys defense to make it happen.

That’s a run reminiscent of Beast Quake.

Pro comparison: Former Bills/Seahawks/Raiders running back Marshawn Lynch

Timmy “Rawhide” Moore

Position: Safety

This is probably the only character we get to know who doesn’t have a personal triumph. He spends most of the movie dressed like a cowboy and then gets run over in his only screen time during the game.

I mean, literally run over.

Come on ref, that sure seems like some unnecessary roughness or something.

Pro comparison: I don’t know. Is there someone who only gets trucked and never actually contributes? Probably a sideline photographer.

Marcus “The Toe”

Position: Kicker

We don’t ever find out the last name of Marcus, but that’s not even the biggest question he raises. The real mystery is WHY is he the kicker?

He gets “recruited” by the group to join the team when they see him kicking a dodgeball. Evidently, that shoehorned him into being the kicker even though there’s no proof he can actually kick a football.

The first play of the game is him completely missing the ball and kicking poor Johnny straight in the nethers.

His moment of glory is bouncing an extra point off the bottom crossbar and just barely through the uprights.

We don’t get to see the next two extra point tries, but the score gets to 21-21. Apparently Marcus keeps making kicks, even though I’m pretty confident someone else should be handling those duties.

Pro comparison: Historically awful Giants kicker Bob Timberlake

Spike Hammersmith

Position: Running back/Linebacker

The only Cowboys player worth knowing is Spike, a cheap-shotting tank of a kid who was — by all indications — raised like a pit bull barking at you through a chainlink fence. He’s the true antagonist of the movie, although I blame his dad for that, more than anything. The guy tells his son that he has to donate his kidney to Aunt Ruth if he doesn’t injure Junior Floyd!

Outrageously poor parenting aside, Spike is a freight train of a running back. Just about every time he touches the ball, it takes an army of Giants to tackle him.

He’s also a pretty terrifying linebacker. The major flaws in his game are that:

He flies over the head of Tad Simpson on one tackle attempt and gets flipped by Icebox trying to go over her. Keep your feet on the ground, Spike.

Icebox is in his head. For all the bravado, it’s pretty obvious that he’s worried about Becky O’Shea when he’s headed for the goal line in the final seconds of the game.

Spike takes himself out of the final play by chasing down and tackling Icebox during “The Annexation of Puerto Rico.”

Ultimately, Spike’s machismo and violent play is his undoing and helps the Giants score a game-winning touchdown.

Pro comparison: Reckless Raiders LB Vontaze Burfict, who is suspended for the rest of the 2019 season.

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pesky33 · 7 years

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Support

Written for @fantasy-zelda to congratulate you on passing your exam

There might be more to this eventually, but I wanted to see reaction first.

For the first time in years, he allows himself to be carried along by the crowd. Hands held in the air support him, shuffling his body from the middle of the room towards the stage. He manages to spread his arms out and wave at Akaashi while security lifts him upwards as if he weighs less than a bag of sugar.

'Do it again, and I'll throw you out,' he says, pushing Suga around the side of the barrier.

Suga turns and smiles widely, giving him the middle finger. 'You'd never throw me out, Danny. Don't even pretend you would.'

'I will one day,' he mutters, looking back out at the crowd for anyone else surfing.

Of course, no one else is. Suga only did it because it seemed funny to try and stage dive during a really slow song, in a room with less than fifty people in it. Akaashi had bet that he wouldn't dare, which was a pretty stupid thing to do with Suga; he should have known after even the short time they'd been acquainted, that there wasn't much that Suga wouldn't do.

Akaashi stands in the middle of the room, although it's the back of the crowd, and gives him a slow round of applause.

Suga theatrically bows, spinning his finger around as he does so. 'Why thank you, I aim to please.'

'You are a grade A dick.'

Suga points to the crowd. 'If I was a dick, those people would have let me fall. They love me, and so do you. Pay up.'

Akaashi crosses his arms. 'We never agreed on a bet! I just said you wouldn't do it.'

'Come on! At least buy me a drink. Let's get tequila shots.'

'I think you've had enough.'

'OK, compromise. What about a pint of water and a tequila slammer?'

Akaashi laughs with a snort. 'How is that a compromise?'

'Just is!' He slaps his backside, and slips behind him towards the corridor. 'Get them in, while I go to the loo.'

As he walks, people wave at him, call his name. He doesn't know who they all are, but he's probably met them in the past. That's just a consequence of having one of those faces, one of those personalities, he guesses. People meet him once, and think they know him, and he's too friendly to put them straight.

Right now, he doesn't stop to chat. He has to get to the toilet as quickly as possible, and he just hopes there's a free cubicle. He can't believe this is happening now, but if he's lucky, his instincts could be wrong.

Although they very rarely are.

There's one other man in there, at the urinal, and thankfully, all three cubicles are free. He chooses the one furthest from the door.

Carefully, he pulls down his trousers and underpants, and finds he was right to be worried, as a stain stares back at him.

'Fuck,' he says quietly under his breath. He does the mental arithmetic, and curses himself for not bringing anything with him. He shoves a wad of paper into his underwear, and flushes the toilet, just for show, before washing his hands and leaving.

The corridor is empty, almost everyone is watching the show. He knocks on the door next to the men's room, waits, and then pushes his way in.

He waits again, once inside, but doesn't hear anything. 'Hello?' he says, making his voice higher than its usual tone. There's no answer.

Quickly, he moves over to the machine, finding loose change in his pocket. He puts a pound against the slot, seeing the sign seconds before he lets the coin drop, and it comes back out in the slot at the bottom.

'Out of order' is scrawled across a piece of paper taped to the front of the machine, and Suga's exasperated cry of, 'Fuck,' is much louder this time.

He runs back out, before anyone comes in, and finds the corridor still empty. He has a moment to think about what to do, there's time, he tells himself, he doesn't need to rush.

The staff seems the first obvious choice, although that depends on who's working. As he walks towards the bar area, he begs the universe to give him one of the girls, or that cute dark haired one who never smiles. Basically, anyone other than the one with green hair would be perfect.

'Fuck,' he says for a third time, seeing a green fringe bobbing around among glasses hanging from above him.

'Suga! Where've you been hiding, gorgeous?' Suguru leans on one elbow and sticks a tongue out.

Suga puts up his hands in surrender. 'Hey. Listen, usually, I love this idiotic banter we have, and I promise next time, I'll give back as good as you give. But today, I haven't got the time, so please don't be a twat.'

'Aw, baby, why so cruel?' He leans over further, and tips Suga's chin up with the tip of his finger. 'What d'ya need?'

'Sanitary towel. The machine is bust. Please tell me there's someone here who has something?'

Suguru releases him, and shakes his head. ''Fraid not. Just me today.'

'Are there any girls you know here tonight?'

'Nope. There's hardly anyone in anyway, but no one I know. Not a popular band, I'm afraid.'

'You can say that again.' A lot of the gathering have already gone, and as Suga looks around, there's even less people than when he was crowd-surfing. The security have stopped even bothering to prowl the front row, there's so little movement.

Suga spots Akaashi looking for him, and raises a hand so he knows where he is, and gets a nod in return.

To his side, he senses movement, and looks up to see a tall-ish man, standing fairly closely to them, looking slightly shifty, but ultimately non-threatening.

At first glance, Suga gets an impression of Akaashi; his face is similar, particularly around the eyes, even though he's wearing a beanie pulled so far onto his head that his hair is pressed so it almost covers them. There's something harder there, in his expression; whether it's just that he knows Akaashi better so he seems softer, or maybe it's the angle of his eyebrows, drawn down over his nose.

'Urm, sorry to bother you. I couldn't help over-hearing.' He starts digging in the bag hanging across his body, lifting the flap covered in patches. 'I have... hang on, I know it's here somewhere.'

Suga watches, unsure of what's happening, whether this is a welcome development for his predicament or not. The other man looks up at him, smiles apologetically as he still shifts the contents of his bag around. Suga spots a headphone jack poking out, a bottle of orange pop, and then he pulls out a T-tool, before spotting what he's looking for wedged under it.

'Here!' He hands a small zippered pouch to Suga, who looks at it confused. It's printed all over with pink roses, a large Vans logo in the centre. 'It has what you need.'

Suga hesitates before he unzips the pouch, and inside finds a couple of tampons, three different sizes of sanitary towel, and a blister pack of pain killers. He looks up at his saviour, who's smiling very slightly. He isn't sure what to say, he's never felt quite so grateful to a stranger in his life. 'Thank you so much.'

'No problem.'

'Let me go and... use this, and then I'll bring it straight back. Promise.' He runs back to the bathroom, looking back over his shoulder as Suguru hands the stranger a bottle of beer, refusing payment.

When he returns, Akaashi is also now sitting at the bar, talking to the owner of the pouch; well, he's talking towards him, but not getting much in return.

They all look up, seemingly grateful for Suga's return. His good mood is back, helped by being able to remove the scratchy toilet roll from his underwear, and the effects of the painkillers, placebo though they might be right now.

'Please, let me pay you back for that,' he says to the stranger, handing back the pouch.

'No, please, it's fine.'

'At least let me buy you a drink?'

The stranger lifts his still half-full beer, and starts to turn him down, but Akaashi turns and says, 'Don't bother trying to say no, he'll never stop nagging you until you say yes. May as well give in now.'

'Well, I don't really need another drink, but I am quite hungry. Do they have snacks here?'

Suguru looks at him, making a pfft sound through pursed lips. 'We have crisps somewhere I think? No one has ever bought food here. Literally no one.'

'Maybe they would if you had anything, fuckwit.'

The stranger stifles a laugh at Suga, so he looks and smiles at him. 'Well, never mind. Maybe another time.' He stands up, and starts to walk away.

'Hang on!' Suga touches his arm, causing him to flinch slightly. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. Urm, why don't we go and get some food? I'm not really in the mood to stay here anyway, this band are shit, and you know, the obvious reasons. I could really go for some chips. Or a kebab!'

'I told you, he won't take no for an answer,' Akaashi stands up. 'I fancy some food too, haven't had a kebab in ages.'

The stranger looks at them both in turn, a smirk growing on his face. 'I can't really leave until the band finishes. Urm, the drummer is my best friend.'

Akaashi nearly wets himself laughing, and Suga looks genuinely apologetic, probably for the first time in his life. 'I'm so sorry. You've been so nice, and all I've done is badger you, and then insult your friend.'

'It's alright. They are a bit shit, I never said I liked them. I do want to support Reon though, so I'm going to stay.'

'Akaashi's dating a drummer! What's his band again?'

'He's called Koutarou Bokuto,' Akaashi says, avoiding having to say the band's name. Suga pulls his phone out, and starts flicking through his photo album.

'No fucking way!' the stranger becomes suddenly animated. 'He's like, the best drummer I've ever seen! Fuck, Reon will be so jealous I met you!'

Akaashi laughs. 'I'm not him, you know.'

Suga holds his phone up for the stranger, showing him a picture of the three of them together on a night out; Bokuto is holding the phone at arm's length, pressing the side of Akaashi's face into his, with Suga pressing on the other side, doing a peace sign with his spare hand. 'Proof!'

'I believed you, I was just surprised.' He smiles, more than he has done yet. 'Is he as nice as he seems?'

Akaashi and Suga both say, 'Yes,' in unison, and then look at each other and laugh.

'I mean, he would say that, cause they're going out,' Suga says, pointing a thumb towards Akaashi, who's blushing slightly, 'But he really is a good bloke. Isn't he, Akaashi?'

'Well, I think so, obviously, but he does seem to get on with everyone.'

Suga closes his phone, and slaps a hand to his forehead. 'Hey, I just realised! We don't even know your name yet!'

'I'm Eita,' he says, holding out a hand.

'I'm Akaashi, and this is Suga,' he says, shaking the hand and gesturing to Suga who waves.

'Suga? Really?' He stills, looking more closely at Suga as he nods. 'This is a turn up. I'm more flattered than I thought I would be.'

'Eh?'

'I get mistaken for you. A lot.'

'People think you're me?' Suga's face betrays the genuine joy and surprise at being mistaken for Eita, and Akaashi can't help but grin. 'But you're so... tall. And stuff.'

Suga looks at Eita's athletic figure, sinewy arms, thick neck muscle, and is overwhelmed that someone, somewhere might think he looks like this, even a little bit. Eita even says it happens a lot.

Eita gives Suga an appraising look in return. 'I guess our hair is quite similar, but you're a bit shorter than me.'

He feels like crying that Eita has ignored their obvious differences, but just says, 'Our hair isn't that similar! Yours is dark, isn't it?' The visible ends poking out look almost black, and he has no idea why Eita thinks the hair might be what make people mistake him for Suga.

Eita just smiles, and pulls off his beanie, revealing a full head of ash blonde hair, the black just on the tips.

Akaashi laughs again, and shakes his head. He looks between them. 'It's really quite uncanny, you could be brothers.' He pulls at the hair on Suga's crown.' He even has a cowlick in the same place.'

By this time, Suguru has noticed Eita now has no hat on, and is pointing at them both and shouting, 'Oh my God, there are two of you! Witchcraft!'

There's a lull in the background music, so the three of them look towards the stage. The band have gone, but the lights are still down, presumably they think people might request an encore. From the silence in the room, and the groups of people walking towards the door, Suga thinks the concert is probably over.

'So, now it's quieter, I can hear you properly. I need answers. You know an awful lot of people, Suga,' says Eita, crossing his arms. 'Some of them are pretty mad at you, too. What on earth do you get up to in your free time?'

'Bit of this, bit of that,' he replies, waving a hand.

Akaashi butts in. 'He says he's a manga artist, but I've never actually seen any evidence of that.'

'I have a sketchbook!'

'It's empty,' he says sideways to Eita, who laughs.

'It won't be. Eventually. I know the story, I just need to write it.'

'What's it about?' Eita asks, finishing his beer.

'Skateboarders.'

'Ah. Probably why I keep being mistaken for you. I bet we travel in the same circles.'

'You skate?' Suga asks, knowing full well from the T-tool he probably does, but wanting to look like he wasn't nosing at the contents of his bag.

'I do indeed.'

'Cool! Me too! We should go skating together, sometime. I can probably introduce you to some big name skaters. Akaashi here works at Parklife.'

Eita looks at him, and nods. 'Nice one, I've seen that.'

'S'how you met Bokuto, right?' When Akaashi nods again, Suga turns back to Eita. 'He's a photographer for them.'

Eita quietly says, 'Small world,' before turning to the stage. 'I think that's it. I'm going to go and find Reon and tell him we're going for food. Can I invite him, if he wants to come?'

'Of course!' Suga says, enthusiastically, happy that Eita is going to let him treat him to food. The painkillers have kicked in, and after being worried he would have to bow out early, Eita's kindness means he's been able to stay and enjoy the evening.

'OK, I'll be as quick as possible.' He clenches a hand around Suga's forearm. 'Don't go anywhere.'

The look he gives Suga is more intense than strictly necessary, making him gulp. 'I won't.'

He turns and walks away quickly, the messenger bag now across his lower back, hands in pockets. Suga watches him go, stunned into silence.

Akaashi is first to speak. 'I cannot believe I just met Gabriel.'

Suga turns sideways, confused. 'Gabriel?'

'Yeah, that's what me and Chikara call him. 'Cause he looks like an angel. He's here a lot, I'm really shocked you've never seen him before.'

'Maybe I have and just never noticed him.' He stretches out his back, and sits down, rubbing the sides of his stomach and wincing.

'That's cause you're too busy making sure everyone else has noticed you.' He sits next to Suga, and rubs his shoulder. 'Everything OK?'

'Yeah, just stomach ache.'

He looks at him with sympathy. 'How did you even get talking to him, anyway?'

'Funny story...' he says, and proceeds to fill Akaashi in on how he met Eita.

#semisuga #sugasemi #sugawara koushi #trans suga #semi eita #akaashi keiji #haikyuu skaters #long post #tw periods #tw alcohol #tw swearing

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