#mostly cause chaos and steal road signs

[spookykestrel]

What noooooo one understands about my Ocs is how special they are

#it’s literally a story about every type of love #EXCEPT ROMANTIC #like it’s such a sexy idea y’all #In all ten episodes #with all my spunky silly cute cast of oddball characters #not a single one is in a romantic relationship #and they all represent different types of love #and my 2 main characters are in a qpr #and there is NO ROMAMCE OR SEX #one is ace and one is aro and they just vibe with each other #mostly cause chaos and steal road signs #sorry I just get excited abt this idea sometimes #kestrel calls #text post #chitter chatter

[butleroftoast]

Full Name: Pol Morris

Race: Human

Age: Thirties

Class: Druid

Alignment: True Neutral

STR 11 DEX 13 CON 15 INT 14 WIS 16 CHAR 0 8

Appearance: Dirty, worn down, and tired. Dark-haired and dark-eyed. Mostly wears neutral greys. Often looks somewhat pallid and sickly as a result of his work with poisons.

Background: Life used to be much simpler for Morris. As a young man, he earned his keep as a ratcatcher in the city, an unremarkable and unassuming existence which made him a decent amount of coin, just the way he liked it. Slowly, however, it began to occur to him that rats were preferable to the company of many of the people he worked for, particularly the noble families. Eventually his appreciation for the rodents made his work intolerable and he was forced to give it up.

After this revelation he ventured outside the city for a while and tried to dedicate himself to a druid circle, which seemed a natural enough path to further his understanding of his four-legged friends. The druids quickly made it clear that their lifestyle was not compatible with his insatiable avarice, his apathy towards the spiritual, and his habit of asking annoying questions at inopportune moments. He persevered for a while -- long enough to learn the art of wildshaping -- but eventually this road, too, petered out into a dead end. He and the druids mutually agreed that while he was still a druid per se, he was perfectly capable of being one anywhere other than inside their circle, or indeed anywhere else they would ever have to interact with him again.

He returned to the city, into the sewers this time, and won the trust of a local rat pack, offering them guardianship and protection (and food). Whenever local landowners caused a fuss about the rat infestation, Morris would encourage them onto a ship in the harbour while he signed on with the crew, and in that way they could skip town until the heat died off. This ruse came to an end after his latest experience, which caused him to vow never to board a ship again after the betrayal and violations of nature he witnessed (a long story, and one Morris would rarely discuss even if he had anybody to discuss it with).

Recently he and the rats found a settled enough existence moving through the sewers, abandoned houses, and occasionally, with reluctance, the Undercity and the Underdark. They had very little contact with other humans or humanoids. Other than a passing awareness of the Guild and similarly unsavoury folk, with whom he had a shared understanding that as long as they all left each other alone nobody would get hurt, Morris rarely saw anyone.

[The appearance of the Mind Flayer ship was a stroke of misfortune - on a rare but necessary trip into town to acquire supplies, Morris was caught up in the chaos, and his next memory is of a rather unwelcome guest being inserted into his skull through the eye socket.]

Personality: Avaricious, withdrawn, unfriendly. Otherwise, emotionally constipated. A tendency to hoard food, gold, and other valuable shiny things -- he won't exactly steal them, in the sense that he doesn't go out planning to rob people, but if an escape through someone's cellar leads him to a crate of fresh food, well, they aren't going to miss it that much, are they?

Never introduces himself with his full name, only as Morris, and even that takes some coercing. He doesn't always say much, but he isn't exactly shy, either - after spending so much time with rats as his primary companions, his grasp on social cues has simply become so shaky he'd just as soon not bother. When he does talk he's often blunt, lacking a framework for what is considered appropriate, and if he has a question to ask then he will ask it, politeness, etiquette or general decency be damned.

A lot of suppressed anger issues, which in turn stem from guilt. So far only rats have been known to draw out his tender side, although he will show compassion and understanding towards most animals and often seems friendlier and more comfortable when in wildshape, even with humanoids. Severe trust issues. Not entirely at home in his own body.

Favourite Cantrip: Shillelagh. When cast, his staff -- a magicless old stick, the one he used to carry dead rats on to advertise his trade -- writhes with the illusion of rats squirming around inside the wood.

Favoured Spells: Speak with Animals, Create Water, Moonbeam.

Focus: A small totem worn on a string around his neck. It's the skeleton of the last rat he killed, built up with fur, teeth, and bones from rats in the pack he now lives with.

#druid pol morris #square brackets/italics is BG3 Morris specifically #everything else is true for D&D/TOatM Morris too #the ship voyage was the one-shot I played him in #no I do not know anything about D&D lore and no I will not be taking criticism on the subject at this time #the oak and the mistletoe

[kilgarraghforever]

So The Son Of Bigfoot is this film from 2017 and it's completely nutty.

The opening scene is this science man getting chased through a forest by a load of helicopters, men with dogs and a pointy-faced dude with very blonde hair. The lot of them have stupid hairstyles. Science Man climbs a cliff, is cornered by the helicopters and then jumps off a waterfall. End scene, cut to title, then the main stuff starts. (I think I'm going to explain the entire film, so anyone who wants to watch it (and I heartily recommend you do so) leave now.)

The main plot is about this kid who gets bullied by three morons with stupid haircuts. Here they are:

(Sunglasses has this silly little goatee thing at the back of his head)

The three morons stick a load of gum in his hair, so his mum has to chop it all off. Next day, it's all grown back, and kid freaks and tries to chop it off himself - which goes badly. He finds his dead dad's old hat in a draw to hide it, goes to school and basically has a weird thing where his hearing suddenly increases and so does his shoe size. The kid's feat literally bust out of his shoes. Kid ends up in the PE hall to escape the noise and surprise! the three bullies turn up, he accidently punches one in the face and so they beat him up, steal his backpack and throw it in a basketball hoop. The lot of them get called to the headmaster's office to be punished (suspension), in which the kid - Adam - meets some blonde girl who flirts with him, gets his bag back and is told to remove the hat, revealing that his hair has grown back completely. Before he has time to contemplate this, the bullies turn up again, chase him home and throw a rock through his window. Rock hits a vent, breaks it and hits something metal, so Adam sticks his arm down and finds a tin full of letters from his dead dad and an address carved on bark. He reads the letters and his mum gets home, he accuses her of keeping his dad's living-ness a secret. Yelling ensues, Adam runs away, y'know - the usual.

Meanwhile, this massive hair company (Hair Co) are trying to make some serum to make hair grow. It's run by the pale dude from before, who never gets named, so I'll refer to him as Asshole. Asshole is showing these three dudes around and nattering, and then they get to this science lab. A short old science man shoots an intern in the ass with a dart thing that causes him to grow an afro. The afro then promptly bursts into flames.

We return to Adam, next to a highway trying to hitchhike in the pouring rain. Truck driver stops and Adam guilts him into taking him to the address on that bit of bark. Turns out it's literally just a post box in a woods next to the road. Adam gets out, truck drives off leaving Adam alone and so he ventures into the unknown. He wanders around for a bit looking for a house or something, yelling "Hello?" into the void. He climbs a small cliff, yells again and hears something behind him. Sees some bushes moving, so he throws a rock at them. The bushes go "ow" so he runs off and right into a bear trap. He falls, skidding the rest of the way down to the road. During said skid, his backpack falls off. This is important. Adam gets knocked out by the impact and is left sprawled in the middle of the road. Some trucker - I'm going to call him Carl - is driving down it, reading a magazine and singing something. He sees Adam at the last minute, slamming on the breaks. He's clearly going to hit Adam, but before he can, this blurry humanoid figure runs out into the road, scoops up Adam and runs off again. Carl is very confused, so plays it back on his dashboard camera. He goes "Well, I'll be" and reaches for his phone. It has no service. Carl ends up at a diner with a phone box, calls 911 and reports that he saw Bigfoot. 911 hangs up on him. Carl then proceeds to call the magazine he was reading and gets told that his sighting will get published.

Back at Hair Co, Asshole sees the report and smirks at the short science man, whom I'll be calling Billingsley, as that is his name. Billingsley wants to go after Bigfoot but Asshole says that they gave up the search ten years ago, leading to the question: 'What the fuck, Hair Co?' They eventually decide to go after Bigfoot again after seeing Adam in the photo.

Carl, back at the diner, is talking to the serving lady who I've named Sugar. They talk about the Bigfoot sighting, and then a load of black cars and a freaking helicopter turn up. Sugar shouts for someone to raise the prices.

Turns out all the men in black people are Hair Co looking for Bigfoot - and Asshole is with them. Carl explains about where he saw Bigfoot and an agent finds Adam's backpack (I said it was important) and his address in it. Asshole smirks again.

Two of the Agents of Hair turn up at Adam's address, break in and find the letters. Meanwhile, Shelly - the mum - is driving to the address on the bark in search of Adam.

This is where it gets a little nuts. Adam wakes up in some tree next with Bigfoot - inexplicably in a pair of jeans that look far too small for him because of all the fur - is standing over him. Adam understandably freaks out and tries to leave, only to nearly die from falling. Bigfoot grabs him before he does and explains that he is Adam's dad. His not dead, very much alive, rather furry and never named dad. (For that reason I'm going to keep calling him Bigfoot.) Adam calls bullshit and threatens him with a twig, then sees that the middle of the treehouse is decorated in photos of him and his mum. This somehow proves to Adam that Bigfoot is his dad, and I'm sure you guessed from the title. He then freaks out again, calling his dad a monster and Bigfoot makes the most funny offended face in animated history.

He then accuses Bigfoot of running away, to which Bigfoot responds with "Woah." He then explains that someone *cough* Hair Co *cough* *cough* were hunting him and he had to leave to keep Adam and Shelly safe. Adam then asks him what he meant by 'lab rat', making Bigfoot change the subject to Shelly and whether she knows Adam is here. Adam lies, his dad catches it, and they argue for a bit before Bigfoot says "Your mum must be worried sick."

Cut to Shelly driving up to a blockade set up by the Agents of Hair. They say they're looking for her, and she tries to escape but the Agents of Hair stop her.

Back at the treehouse, apparently Bigfoot and Adam have stopped arguing and Bigfoot is going on about being sorry he missed Adam's childhood and how Shelly sent everything to him. Adam then asks if he's going to have Bigfoot stuff happen to him - mostly refuring to the fur (I'm not sorry for the pun) - and Bigfoot says no. He then explains that he's already thirteen and hasn't shown any signs of being a bigfoot. Adam says "Yes I have. My feet went weird and so did my hearing." They eventually work out that Adam got all of the cool stuff about being a bigfoot and none of the fur. Cool stuff? I hear you and Adam ask. Turns out bigfoots (bigfeet?) have healing powers (which is how Adam is walking on a leg that got caught in a beartrap), run really fast, hear super well (like things around a mile away) and can talk to animals. They then zipline down to the ground, do some weird surfing thing and fall over. During the next 20 minutes, we meet two racoons, a squirrel and a woodpecker. Oh, yeah, and a giant bear. There's some nonsense with two idiotic hunters, baseball, some geysers and then they end up back at the treehouse. This sickeningly sweet bonding shit is interrupted by the raccoons who report that the Agents of Hair are scouring the forest looking for Bigfoot. Bigfoot blames Adam, which is fair but also really not, who then decides to give himself up to Asshole and the Agents of Hair. They take him to his mum and he tricks them into climbing into a geyser. This pisses of Asshole who, in a plot to lure out Bigfoot, traps Adam in a car and sends him into a forest fire the Agents of Hair started. When Bigfoot shows up to try and save Adam, he gets Adam out of the car but is shot by Asshole with a stun dart. The massive bear whose name is Wilbur saves Adam but a burning branch gets in the way of him going back for Bigfoot, who is captured by Asshole. Adam then blacks out from smoke inhalation. When he comes to, Wilbur and the other animals decide to leave, but Adam convinces them to help him save Bigfoot in a Mission Impossible style heist.

Back at Hair Co, Billingsley has almost perfected a hair formula and shoots the intern again, causing all his hair to grow prolifically. Asshole is pleased by this.

While that's happening, Adam and the rest break into Hair Co's nearest facility, and during the commotion, all of them but Adam get captured. Adam makes it to his dad, who then refuses to leave in a plot twist everyone saw coming, aside from Adam who is confused. Asshole has apparently promised to care for Shelly and Adam and not kill them in exchange for Bigfoot allowing them to run experiments on him. Adam, who is not crazy and doesn't trust Asshole, tries to convince Bigfoot to leave but then Asshole himself turns up and takes Adam out of the lab. Asshole talks about how Adam is going to like being rich while Adam spots a fire alarm, breaks it and causes the only door in to seal itself with him on the inside. This greatly pisses off Asshole, who yells for security to open the door and that the fire is a false alarm. Security guy, who Adam and co knocked out earlier, comes to, hears fire and sounds the evacuation alarm. Asshole gets taken to the bridge, leaving only Adam inside.

Adam then steals an access card from a guard he knocked out, releases all the animals, including the ones used by Hair Co to test stuff on (who all leave the compound and follow the evacuating Agents of Hair), and cause chaos. During said chaos Adam gets a flare gun. He goes back to Bigfoot and this time succeeds in convincing him to leave, threatening to tell Asshole that he's a Bigfoot too. This sentiment is quite sweet as he says that "If you don't leave, then I'm staying. It's the two of us here or the two of us out there, but I'm not loosing you again." They leave and Bigfoot decides to go into a large production area and break all of the gas pipes, deciding that Hair Co is going to be put out of business, permanently. They break many gas lines, leading to the door to be sealed so no gas escapes. They escape through a vent and come out at the top of Hair Co, and zipline down to the bridge using the cables holding it up.

Asshole is there waiting for them. He has found out that Adam is also a bigfoot and shoots Bigfoot several times with stun darts then kicks him off the bridge. Adam, with the most 'fuck you' look, shoots the flare gun's flare into Hair Co, igniting the gas and exploding the building and making the bridge collapse.

Adam then runs to the end of the bridge and climbs down to try and find his dad. Asshole also falls off the bridge because of his own stupidity and the Agents of Hair being incompetent.

In the gorge below, Adam finds his dad badly injured and dying. He cries at first, hugging his dad and his hands glow with blue swirls of light that disappear as soon as he takes his hand away from Bigfoot's arm. He then remembers the healing powers his dad told him about, and uses them on his dad. The blue magic makes Bigfoot's body rise into the air as the healing powers try to heal him, then gently place him back on the ground after Adam is done.

Bigfoot doesn't move.

"No!" Adam cries out, sobbing again. Then Bigfoot moves and wakes up, they hug, the animals show up and it's all very sweet, blah blah blah.

And then along comes Asshole, looking rather deranged and pointing a stun gun at them. He starts monologuing about how "it did not have to end this way" and then is shot in the ass by Shelly. Bigfoot, Shelly and Adam decide on "no more hiding". Meanwhile, the male raccoon discovers that Asshole has been wearing a toupee the entire time.

It turns out that Billingsley and the intern survived.

A few weeks/months later (it's actually only about a week later) Bigfoot and the animals are living happily with Shelly and Adam, who is returning to school after his suspension.

On the way, the bullies return and try to beat up Adam, only to be scared by Wilbur the massive bear. They end up with broken bikes (curtesy of the raccoons) and bruises. The blonde girl from the office shows up at the end of the confrontation and asks to walk to school with Adam. She also asks what happened to his shoes, as his feet bust out when the bullies show up. He jokes that he should switch to sandals, and the film ends on them walking away with his shoes hanging from a telephone pole.

It's a wild ride and I'd honestly recommend it to anyone with an hour and a half to spare. Despite what it looks like, I didn't get in everything and the whole film is a lot funnier that I said here.

This film got an 8/10.

#son of bigfoot #movie review #movie recommendation #go watch this movie #seriously #spoilers #plot summary #this is the plot

[lovemissmini]

I Found you

Synopsis: We all need a friend. Sometimes you have to find one to gain one. Especially in this post-apocalyptic world.

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader

Warnings:  Post-apocalypse, reader might not be 100% sane, hints of death, not much action. PG13

Length: ~2k

A/N: I would go crazy if I was all alone for 6 months, no questions asked.

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. Lovemissmini © . Do not copy, rewrite, repost without my permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

“If it weren’t for you, Tae, I would have gone crazy a loooong time ago. Hmm?” You spare a glance towards your companion before you continued your babbling. “It’s just, six year, who wouldn’t go insane in that amount of time. All alone. No one to talk to.”

You nod to yourself, sinking deeper into the worn-out armchair, letting the cheap cushioning quickly engulfing your thin form. Human interaction had become a strange topic for you, just like the concept of keeping track of time. Did it really matter what day of the week it was? It’s not like you had a job or anything. So, what did it matter if you woke up at 1 in the afternoon or ate during the deadly hours of dawn? Hell, why do you even care about the number of times the sun rose before it ultimately set to make the end of the day. One day or six years, tomato tomato.

You should stop. Your mind was wandering off on a tangent even whilst you continued to hold a conversation on a separate matter, yet again. Your thoughts always did that, wander off, that is, into an incoherent multitude of ideas. That’s just how your brain worked. Or maybe that’s your insanity talking.

“But I’m lucky to have found you, yeah?”

You look out of the window of your new living room, into the streets and the cars that haphazardly littered the cracked roads and pavement. Room, that’s quite an interesting word choice. It might be too generous a word for the space where you were seated as of now. A room would imply an enclosed area with a roof above your head and at least three connected walls and some form of a door or partition. Right?

But your choice of temporary lodging was, to be honest, not quite the conventional image you would associate with that word. The best you could truly say about said room was that it was once a room. All that was left was remnants of a living room; the lone standing section of the street facing wall decorated with a broken window frame, piles of brick from the other less fortunate walls scattering the surrounding chaos, broken scraps of furniture thrown around you in a disordered arrangement.

At least it had a mostly intact armchair and couch. Right? Yeah, so who care. Life is good.

“I mean, you’re lucky I found you. Hella lucky at that.”

The lack of a roof let the evening sun beamed down on you from the sky, heating up your skin and leaving a warm tingle as your fingers played with the loose threads of the chair, twirling them around your finger absentmindedly.

“Hey, are you just gonna keep ignoring me? I said I was sorry for nearly leaving you behind last time. I even got you a new shirt to make up for it.” You huff in frustration, glaring at said shirt that fitted around your partner; a black and white abstract collage of spikey leaves artistically decorating the thin material, beautifully trimmed into what was now button up shirt that sported a deliciously deep v neckline. It was slightly revealing but not quite, just enough to give a hint of what was underneath but leave you wanting more.

“That shirt is in so much better condition than anything I’m wearing right now.” A scowl pulled at your lips as you regard the tattered t-shirt that clung to your skin, dirt discolouring the once yellow fabric into a murky brown and the pair of barely held together ripped jeans, denim threatened to fall off your thin waist even after being tied tightly by a belt.

You abruptly get up, palms slamming down on the arms of your chair, sudden movement causing ancient dusk to explode from deep within the fibres and into a thick cloud that surrounded you. You push past the brown haze of floating particles- ignoring the need to cough from the putrid smell- and close the distance between you and your companion.

“Listen here you ungrateful piece of shit! You don’t get to ignore me. I found you so I make the rules. I can leave you when and if I want. Capish?” Your voice breaks through the otherwise silent atmosphere before dissipating into the distance. Your eyes were hard with anger, veins bulging in your neck from the strain, as you glared at the unseeing eyes of your companion.

You blink, veins running cold as you realise your sudden outburst. It was uncalled for. Regret slowly filtered into your system, weighing you down like lead. You take deep slow breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and the roar pulsing in your ears.

“I’m sorry.” You voice is barely a whisper when you come through, a slight quiver at the last syllable and thick with guilt. The crimson in your cheeks fading as you settle down next to your companion on the couch, eyes shifting to gauge their reaction- or lack of one in this case.

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” You joke, a small chuckle trying to defuse the tension that hung heavy in the air. Your hands betray the cheerfulness mask you donned, thumb rubbing the barcode inked into the skin of your left wrist, in a nervous habit that first formed in the lab. “I- uh- well, I forgive you too. Just because I like how handsome you and your stupidly symmetrical face are.”

There was no response. At least none out loud. In fact, there never was a reply out loud from your companion since you found them five years ago, and never would be. The only replies you earned were ones spoken to back of your mind, a deep voice echoing your subliminal thoughts back to you, answering your conscious questions. You companion, the top half of a male mannequin, would never grow a set of vocal cords to voice the replies you longed to actually hear.

If someone were to ever talk to you, question who it was you were talking to, you would have simply stated it was to yourself. Because that would mean you were never alone to begin with, never needing to talk to a humanoid piece of plastic. Right?

But there was no one else.

There no one left, no one ever since that happened six years ago.

“Anyway, let’s go. I want to see what that blinking light was from last night.” You announce as you get up from the two-seater, tossing on your backpack as you stand waiting for your partner to get up with you. You roll your eyes at the lack of movement in your peripheral view, head turning to throw a glare at its plastic form still seated on the couch. “Get up you lazy ass. Get up or I’ll carry you.”

You stand there for a moment longer, waiting for its plastic muscles to twitch under the heavy weight of your gaze. But your effects are yet again fruitless, the only signs of motion par your breathing was the dust dancing weightlessly in the air, illuminated by the setting sun as the specks float carelessly around you.

You sigh, giving up your side of the stalemate and pick up the oversized plastic excuse of a friend. The weak muscles of your arms ache under the burden, straining to produce a strong grip as you walk out onto the streets.

As you venture further into the deserted mass of torn buildings, further into the what could barely be recognised as Seoul, you reach the glass doors of a seemingly intact corporate building. The name of the facility standing tall and proud on the metal door frame, as if in celebration of its survival, almost unscathed par from the broken glass and a missing letter, the skyscraper was rather untouched.

“B-um-Bigit. HA. Sounds a lot like bigot, doesn’t it, Tae?” You muse, as you shift the plastic deadweight in your arms to a more comfortable position.

After exploring the bottom floors of building, going through countless office draws and lab cabinets, you filled up the most of your backpack with expired food items and multiple water bottles. Still, you had yet to find the source of the blinking lights you had seen last night.

“Maybe its further up?” You question out loud.

“Yeah, you’re right Tae, it must be one of the top floors. How else would I have seen it amongst the other buildings?” A grin splits your dry lips, tongue darting out to wet the cracked skin- ignoring the lingering taste of dirt.

“You’re so smart, bud, what would I do without you?”

You continue your journey up, scavenging through every nook and cranny of each floor before arriving at the top landing. A gasp leaves you lips, eyes widening as you look out from the doorway of the staircase and into the concrete floorplan. A glint of excitement sparked in your eyes, much like it did when you found a can of peaches.

The 16th floor was so different to the lower levels, barren like a construction site but shielded under large planes of glass and metal frames in a greenhouse-like roof. Moonlight filtered through the clear glass, illuminating the area in a milky wash of pale white and harsh shadows.

The grey concrete floor was littered with giant solar panels, all scattered methodically around three capsules that laid in the middle of everything. Walking forward, you trotted down the empty path that connected the doorway directly to the capsules, careful not to touch the electronics barricading you on either side.

The capsules were large, large enough to fit a person, you note to yourself as you walk past the first two. Or maybe a giant alligator, you never know.

You don’t bother inspecting two pods, both dark and most likely damaged as a large piece of metal beam speared the centre of one, a thick layer of dried green mould covered the cracked glass panels of the other, obscuring the view of what you assumed was the face of whoever it coffined. Not that you cared.

They were not of interest to you. Especially not when the last capsule vibrating with a low electronic hum. Small lights that were attached to the surface of pod pulsing, bright reds and whites flickers in the darkness as if demanding attention. And attention if caught.

You place Tae on the floor, hands steadying its plastic frame whilst your eyes were still glued to the flashing lights. “Wait here, Tae.” You tiptoed closer to the pod like a moth to fire, neck shifting as you crane you head to see above the capsule before you carefully approached it.

A yellow screen blinked on and off at the centre of the capsule. Bold black lettering fizzing from sparking pixels. You narrow your eyes, brows furrowing in concentration as you focused on trying to decipher the message. After a handful of seconds, you make out the warning.

Emergency- press red button for capsule ejection. Subject -

A hand moves to lift a clear plastic cap, hovering over the large obnoxiously red button, hesitant to push it as instructed.

Instead, you hand reaches to swipe off the sheet of debris covering the glass face panel. Eyes sweeping the sleeping form of the person trapped in the metal pod. The moonlight casting soft lighting against their prominent features. Their eyes were closed, long eyelashes fanning high cheekbones, thick brows tucked under gently tousled hair. Corking your head to the side, you continued to admire the pillowy shape of their plush lips, imagining the way the heart shaped flesh would move as it talked.

“Kim Taehyung.” The name from the screen rolling off your tongue seamlessly. Your lips twitching into a soft smile, your friend of five years long forgotten in the mass of solar panels. “I found you. Will you be my friend?”

#kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #btsfanfic #bts #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fanfic #kpop fanfic

[alistonjdrake]

Part Three: Vows and Sins

Niels Dursten Role: Priest | Father of the Fates | Standing General of the Holy Army Born: Year 1742 after the fall of our Saints

At birth, no one would have considered Niels destined for priesthood. He started his life in the simple Kellish town of Bornne. His mother was from Nomworth, Palogne, and miserable with the simple life in a farming village. She would eventually run up debts and ditch his father who in turn would go onto to seek legal advice for all the debts. His father would become friends with Argus Breacher (father of Luca Breacher) and Niels would be able to one day say he’d seen the future Kellish queen of the Escana Empire as a child. Although any meeting between them would have been very brief and not a lasting memory in Luca’s mind. Soon after, Niels’ father would find himself unable to get rid of the debts and would make the decision to give his only son and child to the church. 

Niels was sent to Mignola young with the expectation of a good career in Santivism as his uncle, Romuald Dursten, was a chancellor on the conclave at the time (the branch that rules the Santivian church beneath the Justice). Niels would be afforded the opportunity to go to school, to live in a bustling city, the floating city, and the holy capital of the known world. He was given money, new clothes, and food. Prior to his arrival, Niels had been strictly against the path his life was taking. 

Kellish Priests do not live as lavishly as Mignolian ones. He’d imagined himself as old, working in a forgotten chapel at the side of the dusty road, and eating nothing but bread and soup, but life in Mignola proved to be different. And very attractive to him even at a young age. When Niels arrived, it was immediately apparent that Romuald Dursten would not be a very active guardian. His position in the Conclave took priority and instead he set Niels up in a villa close to the Blapanity and had a cycle of maids and tutors watching him. 

Niels got up to a lot of mischief. For the first time he was mostly alone, in a large house, and had every luxury at his feet. He became spoiled, rowdy, and extremely possessive of shiny things in fear of possibly being sent back to Bornne. As a child, Niels would often escape lessons by sneaking into the tunnels beneath the canals and to every corner of the city. Often, his uncle would send Fates or city-watch to find him and Niels became very skilled at escaping their clutches or exchanging treasures he’d collected in order to be let out of trouble. 

As he grew older, his behavior worsened. Niels did not pay very close attention to his lessons. Although he had a vague handle on scripture, the Saints and their lessons, Niels found he was much more interested in other things. Namely, money and women. He built a name for himself in gambling and Mignola’s black trade as he had access to the Blapanity and her holy and ancient treasures, he would often steal and sell them for favors from Ardunese nobility. At 16, he moved into his own villa with its own staff, shedding himself of his uncle’s watchdogs and tutors. He became friends with the sons of lords and rich merchants. He threw parties with them, let them stay in his grand house, flirted with their sisters, and masqueraded as one of them. But Niels was not. He was still a Kellish boy from a farming village. Money became easy to collect but what he really wanted was a title. As he could not marry into a high-ranking family and had no status on his own, Niels bowed to his uncle and asked for forgiveness for his bad behavior before re-focusing on the church. 

He took vows at 17, signing his life away to serve Santivism. Niels tried to forge a close relationship with Romuald but his uncle, although he forgave him, did not like his nephew’s lifestyle. Niels never let go of his lofty friends, his connections in the black trade, his taste for partying, or his interest his women. Romuald kept him at arm’s length and trusted his nephew’s interest in the Conclave even less. Niels had his sights set on climbing the ladder in the church. His blood was set against him as Kellish transplants in Mignola very rarely climbed so high. The Ardunese are obsessed with their legacies and bloodlines and aren’t fond of outsiders.

Niels did his best to outwardly shed his Kellish heritage. He stopped speaking the language, even in private with his uncle. He worked hard to completely rid himself of any traces of an accent, he did not speak of (or to) his father, learned all he could about Codua’s history and culture, he even only slept with Ardunese women. 

Discarding his heritage only proved to drive a further wedge between Niels and Romuald. Besides his greed, Niels was also just very obsessed with trying to expand his social circle. Much of the friends he had as a teen out grew of him as they became interested in their own social standing and reputation. This caused Niels to spend a lot more time mingling and trying to create new connections and deals than paying attention to his duties. He made more money as a yes man and someone who did dirty work for visiting Ardunese princes than as a priest. 

In 1768, When Niels Dursten was 26, the disastrous reign of Justice Licari would begin. Mignola would become a nearly lawless pit where murder and riots were common, half the city’s population was constantly on opium, and priests being patron to prostitution became common. This suited Niels just fine. He thrived under chaos. He purchased a brothel and shamelessly had his prostitutes steal from their clients, he blackmailed any important patrons, and quickly controlled so much of Mignola’s underground that he was dubbed the “Black Justice of the Holy City”. A title that pleased him. 

Still, what Niels wanted was a title with weight and he became increasingly more selfish. He purchased land outside of Mignola with his favors. Small towns and villages, ones that would slowly but steadily continue to fill his pockets when he wasn’t actively working. He redecorated and rebuilt his villa to be even more ornate. Niels lived like a prince. His uncle hated it. They would have many fights, some becoming almost violent, and often ended with Romuald being forcefully escorted out of his nephew’s villa. 

in 1774, Justice Licari died to the relief of the Conclave. His reign so awful that just 14 hours after his death, the Conclave relented and elected a non-Ardunese justice for the first time in a long time. Romuald became Justice Dursten much to everyone’s surprise and Niels’ anger. 

Usually this would be cause for celebration. When one became justice, they often elevated their family. Licari rose his Oskyan cousin to Reverend Mother, for example. A justice could even ennoble their family. However, Romuald and Niels had such a damaged relationship and Niels knew there would no lordships or duchies in his future. 

He would be right, although to save face, Justice Dursten would make Niels Father of the Fates. The protector of the holy city, and oddly enough, the one who would have to clean up the dirty business of Mignola. This involved most of Niels’ ventures like his brothels and black trade connections. He took this as a direct insult. 

As leader of the Fates, Niels would meet Tarley Vilardi, the vice-lieutenant. She would go on to become his primary mistress and act as his bodyguard. Niels exercised most of his flimsy power through her, using her and the Fates she argued onto his side to continue to do his dirty work. 

Justice Dursten would become too busy to fight his nephew. He would instead continue to try and save himself from being equally as stained by covering up the worst of his behavior and stopping what he could. This only proved to further embolden Niels. 

Underneath his uncle’s reign, Niels felt untouchable. Although he lacked a lofty title, he still lived like an unofficial prince and with Tarley Vilardi working for him, much of Mignola still fell beneath his thumb. Niels was also growing tired of the church and felt as if his uncle had turned much of the Conclave against him. If he was not to become a chancellor, if his own blood would not elevate him, he began to look elsewhere to seek titles. 

The boiling point would come with Princess Zurina ana’Frederick Harver’s visit to Mignola to study the occult and ancient religion in 1782. Niels would not hesitate in introducing himself and the two would have a brief affair before she returned to Graza and the Escana Empire where she would find out she was pregnant. 

Although Niels hopes this will be the beginning to a charmed life, dealing with the Escana Empire and the Harver family is much more likely to be his downfall. 

#my writing #my characters #writeblr #tss trilogy #the most interesting part of his life is that he got to sleep with Zurina and that's that #and to think it all ends because one pretty boy pushes him

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

what ifs; adam page [one]

Notes:

This is my rewrite / alternate version of my fic Wild Side. Yeah, I’m gonna post and continue both on this blog. If I can just get myself unstuck / out of the hole I wrote myself into with Wild Side, that’d be fuckin gr9.. But for now, it’s time to put everything I have so far for What If’s on this blog, I think. Ya’ll.. I swear I plan to update this soon. I have plans. I just.. have to make my brain form the words/sentences. 

Summary:

Adam and Ivy went from childhood best friends, to a couple and then they were torn apart by life and it’s pesky obstacles. Those pesky obstacles have thrown them back together now, when it seems they need each other -and most importantly, their closure, the most. Will they rekindle their flame or will everything fizzle out and die before it’s given a proper chance to grow? And just how are they going to handle all the things currently going on in each other’s lives?

Warnings:

alcohol tw, mentions of stripping / exotic dance culture, angst... heavy angst to start with. slow burn. awkward situations and occasional flashbacks / memories. fluff eventually. not as of yet, but I promise you, we will get there.

Pairing:

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Ivy Barlow.

Header made by me. Images from Google. Don’t steal it if you didn’t make it/write it.

“Ivy Barlow?” the words of the cardiologist echoed through a mostly silent waiting room as the cardiologist looked around, trying to locate the daughter of his patient.

Ivy’s head snapped up and she rubbed her eyes. The older man walked over and sat down and Ivy swallowed hard. Before he could even get anything out, Ivy felt her eyes starting to sting with unshed tears.

From beside her, her sister Constance was starting to sniffle, shushing her two children so that she and Ivy could hear what the doctor was about to say, both of them holding hands and sharing a scared look. Ivy was the one who asked first.

“Dad… He’s.. He’s okay, right?”

“Your father’s had a heart attack.”

“No.” Constance was about to lose it and start sobbing. Ivy looped her arm around her sister’s shoulder and pulled her against her side and wiped at her eyes, addressing the doctor again. “Is he okay? What’s… Is there anything you can do?”

“We’re preparing to do a stent as we speak, Ms. Barlow. The procedure might take a few hours, but after the fact, we’ll let you both know how it went.”

“A stent… That’s… That’s good, right? It has a fairly good chance of working?” Ivy questioned, starting to feel a little numb from the shock of it all. Not even 24 hours ago, her father had been fine, they’d been face - timing and she’d been laughing at him as he bitched about one of the cows from the Henderson farm up the road getting in with his herd and the chaos that ensued. She’d been offhandedly making plans to return to West Virginia to visit as soon as she got a break from work and wedding planning.

Just the thought of Ty and their argument before she broke it off and left had her annoyed all over again. And twice as sure that she’d made the right choice, the best choice.

Her family came first. If Ty didn’t understand that by now, Ty wasn’t ever going to understand it. His reaction to her postponing the wedding to return to West Virginia to care for her father and help him on the farm clearly showed her just how wrong she’d been about the man she’d been about to settle for.

Because she made no mistake about it. She’d had about 9 hours to stew on the whole thing and Ty was simply someone she settled for.

The cardiologist explained the procedure to her and her sister Constance and after he walked away, Constance took a shaky breath, glancing at Ivy. “Dad’s gonna be fine. It’s the farm I’m worried about, sis.”

“The farm?”

“Yeah, you know last year was rough… With those 3 cows getting trich right before time for market and then the tractor going tits up. Dad… He had to take out a few loans. Then he started getting sick.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Ivy asked as she met her sister’s gaze, taking a deep breath and digesting what her sister was telling her.

“Because.” Constance air quoted, “You were out there in Florida doin’ things with your life like you always planned. He didn’t want to disrupt that. Guess he felt like losin’ Mom was bad enough and he didn’t wanna make you feel like you had to come back here. We all know you were hell bent on leavin’ anyway, even before Mom uprooted me n’ you n’ Carly back then.”

Ivy’s mouth opened and closed and she gaped at her sister. Finally, she managed to get out the truth. “I never wanted to leave, actually. I just adjusted to what Mom put us through because she made it seem like that was the only option we had to ‘really live life’. It was not something I would’ve chosen, otherwise.”

“I… I didn’t know.” Constance muttered after a few seconds as she squeezed her younger sister’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Ivy shrugged and brown eyes darted around the waiting room. “Where the hell is Carly? Typical, it’s home, it’s Daddy, so she’s not comin’ unless there’s a will to be read.”

“Ivy…” Constance took a deep breath but Ivy shook her head firmly. “We all need to be here. He needs us right now. She’s always been selfish like…”

“Like Mom?” Constance questioned, sighing and shaking her head. There may be years between their mother leaving and making them tag along for the ride and now, but she’d never really been able to bring herself to forgive her mother for it. And now, knowing that Ivy hadn’t wanted to leave either and that was the cause of strain between their mother and Ivy, it only made Constance that much more convinced that she was right to keep low contact with their mother. Let her live her dream life in that Miami mansion with the stupid pool boy man on the side and an even dumber plastic surgeon husband. Constance loved the life she had here.

“Exactly.” Ivy sank back into the hard plastic chair, sighing in exhaustion. The past few hours had been scary and frustrating and lonely for her. Her eyes settled on the television screen across the waiting room and when she saw him walking down the ramp and to the ring, she nearly spat out the lukewarm coffee she’d been nursing for an hour and a half now.

“Is that… No. That can’t be… Adam?” Ivy gaped and bit her lip, raising a hand to drag slowly through light brown hair. Constance gave a soft laugh and nodded. “It is, Ivy. He goes by Hangman now.”

“Momma! Hangman!” Ivy’s nephew Jake burst through, tugging at her sister’s sleeve and pointing at the tv.

“Hangman, huh?” Ivy was still gazing at the television set in awe, biting her lip as she took a deep breath or two.

All she could think about was the last conversation she had with him. The night before she wound up being dragged off to Florida to live with her mom.

OoO

“Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun. Just you n’ me out there together. This is gonna be my ticket outta here, darlin.” Adam’s blue eyes locked on her own and she sighed, biting the inside of her cheek. She didn’t get it honestly, why did he just have to leave? Why did everybody want to take her out of the only home she’d ever really known and wanted to know? She already had her life mapped out… And up to five minutes ago when Adam sprang the news of trying out for some small time wrestling company, she’d thought that he was going to be a part of those plans.

“Adam, I… Nevermind.”

Adam eyed Ivy and took a deep breath. “What’s wrong, hon?” he leaned in, his thumb wiping away a tear that started to roll down her cheek.

“It’s just… I thought you were gonna take over your daddy’s farm… And I was gonna go to WVU with you in the fall and we were…” Ivy paused, taking the chocolate shake from his hands and taking a big sip just to mask her unease at saying too much, giving him too much power to hurt her. Because she knew that if she said it, it was out there and it couldn’t ever be taken back.

“ Darlin’… We can still do that, hell… I mean… I might not even get signed with this company. You know yourself I ain’t the best right now. But if I don’t try, I won’t ever know. ‘Sides..” Adam took a deep breath, fumbling around in his pocket for the locket he’d gotten her. It wasn’t much, but it was a placeholder until he could one day do better. “I’ve always thought it was gonna be you n’ me against the world, remember? It’s just a week. Then we’ll figure things out a lil better..” Adam coaxed.

Ivy gazed at him, taking a few deep breaths. Finally, a smile played at her lips and she gave a slow nod, turning so that he could slip the locket on her neck. “Okay, alright. Why you gotta play dirty, huh? You know I always cave right in when you give me that look, Adam.”

Adam’s nose nuzzled against the side of her neck and he chuckled, pulling her against him, resting his head against her shoulder as he muttered in a shaky whisper, “Love you, Ivy.”

“Love you too, Adam.”

OoO

Constance cleared her throat again and snapped her fingers in front of her sister’s face. “Are you okay, Ivy?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It was just… weird. Seeing him again after all this time, even if it was just on television.”

“He comes home all the time.” Constance grinned to herself as she said it and watched her sister’s interest perk. Ivy tried to downplay it, but Constance could tell she’d gotten her attention.

“Oh yeah? Nice to know. Maybe he didn’t go off and let the fame go right to his head.” Ivy shrugged and took the pink crayon from Jenny, her niece and went to color in Ariel’s long flowing hair in the picture. But she couldn’t get it all out of her head, either. It was like seeing Adam Page on television a few minutes ago had opened Pandora’s Box for her and now, all those old what if’s were flaring up all over again.

What if she hadn’t just quietly gone with her mother that night? What if she’d fought and made it known that she didn’t intend on leaving the farm? What if she’d actually gotten to say goodbye? What if she’d tried to say goodbye and instead, she and Adam ran off that night together?

Maybe everything would be totally different right now. Maybe it wouldn’t. But at least I’d have a little closure, Ivy sighed as she thought about it and she shook her head, standing to make her way over to the little coffee pot by the nurses station.

–

The further away Adam Page got from the arena, the more solidified the thought became in his mind. He needed to get his head on straight. He needed to regroup and the only place he seemed to be able to do so was at his parents farm. The thought prompted him to pick up his cell phone and scroll through his contacts list, finding his father’s number and hitting call. While he waited on at least one of his parents to answer, he found himself stewing over the argument he’d had with Matt and Nick and Kenny before leaving.

They just weren’t listening, they didn’t care lately and that was beyond frustrating. They called themselves his friends and yet, they didn’t see that everything going on lately was starting to wear him more than a little thin. The more he pushed, the more they shoved. All he wanted to do was pull away for a while… Get some needed distance and be his own man again.

Why was that so damned hard for the three of them to understand?

His father picked up and he raised a brow when he heard the older man swearing and yelling to one of his hands on the farm. “It goes over there, damn it! You know Dalton has a place for everythin’, shit. Act like you got sense, kid.”

“Dad?”

“Hang on a sec, son.” Adam’s father took a sip of coffee and waved over his mother to take the phone. Adam’s mother took the phone from him and eyed her husband.

“It’s our son, woman!”

“Adam? What on Earth are you doin, sweetie? I just got through watchin the replay of last night?”

“I’m… I’m gonna come home a little bit, mom. Just need to think. What’s Dad doin’ on the Bar Low?”

“Ivy’s daddy had a heart attack earlier… So your daddy thought he’d come over and pitch in while Dalton was recoverin because their crop isn’t gonna harvest itself… Are you alright, son?”

Adam sighed and shook his head, found himself thinking bitterly that even knowing her dad was layin in a hospital probably wouldn’t be enough to drag Ivy home..

… because I sure as shit wasn’t enough to keep her around years ago… the thought came, even though by now, Adam knew the truth for the most part. He knew Ivy hadn’t really been given a choice in the matter, but he also felt the bitterness because she didn’t even give him a proper goodbye. She didn’t even try to fight it.

… you know she wasn’t a fighter back then, she just went along with whatever somebody asked of her, tried not to make waves… makin waves was always Connie and Carly’s thing… Adam’s mind veered off and he cleared his throat. “I’m on my way in. What all needs t’ get done?”

“Clever. My sweet clever boy.. You’re not dodgin the discussion we’re gon have. But we’ll figure all that when you get here. How far out are ya?” Adam’s mom smiled to herself as she turned to his father and nudged him. “He’s comin home for a little while!”

“What? It ain’t his downtime. He better not be quittin. Raised more n’ enough hell to go off and do that foolishness, he better not give it up. Ain’t everyday a man gets to accomplish his dream.” Adam’s father muttered, eyeing his wife who shrugged. Adam’s mom repeated her question and bit her lip, excitedly waiting on an answer.

“About 6 hours, give or take.” Adam answered after consulting his GPS. Kenny was flooding the other line with calls but Adam only rolled his eyes and let the calls keep going to voicemail. “Does Ivy? Does she know?” Adam finally bought himself to ask the question, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his tone at the mention of her name. Adam’s mother sighed and answered calmly, “She’s movin back in, from the looks of it. Came in the mornin after it happened, your daddy was down there half the afternoon helpin her get her things in and do some repairs around the farm…”

She knew about the way things ended. And she knew it hurt her son. But she also knew there were more than two sides to a story and she felt like maybe it was high time they sat down and talked it out. Or yelled it out.

Because Adam hadn’t really been the same since.

And from what Constance let slip on occasion, neither had Ivy.

Closure was needed between the two.

Adam processed what his mother told him and grumbled quietly, taking a deep breath. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about his idea to go back to the farm for a few weeks and try to get his head on straight. How the hell was he supposed to do that with his biggest lingering what if right across the field? Knowing they lived in a small town and at some point, he’d inevitably have to run into her.

He was already dreading it.

“Adam?”

“I’m still here, Momma. Just thinkin.”

“Son, it’s been almost ten years. You’re every bit as stubborn as your daddy.” his mother sighed and Adam gave a dry laugh. “I ain’t the one who just up n’ left. Surprised she dragged herself back here. Heard she was doin’ real good down in Florida. Even landed herself a doctor n’ everything.”

“Accordin to what I overheard earlier, she broke it off with the guy. Apparently, he didn’t want her comin back here to do what she needed to do. And he refused t’ come with. She left him n’ came home.”

“Color me shocked.” Adam muttered dryly, letting it sink in. Talking himself right out of even remotely getting his hopes up on any form of closure.

He had more than enough to deal with right now.

Besides, Adam found himself thinking, bet she ain’t given me a second thought. It’s water under the bridge now and that’s where it needs t’ stay. In the past.

The GPS announced his turn and after a few more minutes of conversation, he hung up with his parents and went back to driving and thinking.

And he tried to keep himself from thinking about her being back, but he failed at it miserably and it annoyed the living hell out of him.

#adam hangman page fanfiction #adam hangman page fanfic #adam hangman page fic #adam hangman page imagine #adam hangman page imagines #part 1 of ? #// alcohol tw #// mentions of stripping #// fluff #// hurt comfort #// angst oh god so much angst.

[collapsingintojupiter]

Birthday Party

So before I begin, lemme just say--

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!

It's @starbucks-remy 's birthday y'all, so please go and let them know how great they are!!

I asked them what they wanted to see and they mentioned Logince and Intrulogical, so I did my best to combine a little fluff and comedy with both! (Also I've already written a couple of fics with Logince fluff in them if you want to see 'em here and here). I wrote this kinda fast cause I really wanted to give it to @starbucks-remy on their birthday, so I’m sorry if it’s not as good? I tried I promise.

Anyways, without further ado:

Characters: Logan, Remus, Roman, Virgil, Remy, and Patton.

Relationships: Kind of a smash up but I tried to include some (mostly platonic) Intrulogical and Logince, as well as a little background Moxiety (also platonic).

Warnings: Uh, there’s like one curse? Food mention. Also Remus is in it, for those of you that are triggered by him. Please tell me if there’s something else I should add.

Logan sat on the front porch with a glass of water in one hand and a calculator in the other. A chemistry book was open on his lap, and he squinted against the bright sunlight overhead as he read the next question to himself and sipped at his water. Being hydrated, if he remembered correctly, would allow him to study more efficiently by improving his mood, focus, and concentration. The sunlight also provided valuable vitamin D. Speaking of which, maybe he could call Virgil, and they could--

"Logan!" A shout from down the road dragged his attention away from his studying and Logan looked up, surprised. Someone was approaching him at a rather unsteady run, almost as if they were injured. Remus…?

"Logan!" He called again. "LOGAN!" 

Logan scrambled to his feet and threw the book aside, his heart pounding.

"What's wrong?" He shouted, running to Remus' side. "Are you hurt? Where's Roman? What happened? Is someone in danger?"

Remus stumbled to a stop and doubled over, gasping for breath. A black long-sleeved shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, matched by pants that were the most peculiar shade of green one had ever seen. Logan didn’t see any blood.

"It's…birthday… Roman...wanted...somethin' special…" Logan blinked at the other boy.

"Wait…what?"  Remus grabbed his shoulders.

"Birthday!" He shouted in Logan's face. "Roman's birthday is today!" He coughed, sucked in a deep breath, and tried again.

"I need your car." Logan blinked.

"I…you've got to be kidding me!" He stumbled over his own words, but that didn't stop him. "I...I thought someone got...got hurt or something and you just need my car!? Where's your car? What…what about Roman? Where is he? I thought he was dead or something with all your shouting!"

"Well obviously I can't go shopping with him for his birthday present now can I?"

"And your car?" Logan tried to fight off the exasperation creeping into his voice.

"I got my license revoked." Remus grinned widely.

"You what?" 

"Yeah. Apparently I'm a reckless driver or something--can we go?"

"I...I don't even know how you got a license…" Logan sighed and adjusted his glasses. "Okay, so let me get this straight--"

"--Logan, neither of us are straight." That earned Remus a sharp glare, to which he only grinned in response.

"--So it's Roman's birthday and you're trying to…?" That statement actually made Remus stop and think, which was quite worrying to see when you knew the kinds of things that happened when you let Remus think. He scrunched up his face and puffed up his cheeks, then exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Uh... birthday party…" he said finally. "Like...a surprise? For Roman?"

God help me.

Logan sighed. "You want to use my house don't you?" Remus' eyes lit up at that.

"See, I knew I could count on you!" He broke into a run towards the garage.

"Wait...I didn't…" Logan let his voice trail off and sighed again as he watched the other boy go. Then he started after Remus. Looks like I'm in charge of this now, he thought to himself. I’ll have to put off studying until tomorrow morning. There was absolutely no way Logan could let Remus create this surprise party unsupervised, as someone's house was liable to end up catching fire if he did (and yeah, he was saying that from experience).

Remus was already seated in the passenger side of the car as Logan climbed in. 

"You need to contact Remy, Virgil, and Patton right now," he told Remus as he started the car. "And put your seatbelt on. Tell the others to meet us at my place in twenty minutes. You're lucky my parents aren't home, but if we're doing this at my house this means you're agreeing to clean up afterwards. Understand?" Remus nodded and quickly pulled his phone out. 

"Good."

---

Three figures were standing on the front porch when Logan and Remus got back. One, dressed in a blue polo and wearing glasses, another with shades down and a frappe in one hand, and the third hunched over in a purple and black patch jacket. 

Remus barreled out of the car and insisted on carrying all of the bags into the house by himself--Logan had decided to pick up everything on his parents' grocery list while they were at the grocery store, so there were quite a few stacked up in the trunk. Of course, that didn't stop Remus. His arms were covered in the white plastic handles and he’d even wrapped several around his neck, despite Logan’s protests.

"You're going to choke yourself…" Logan sighed as Remus marched up the steps without heeding him, nodding to Virgil and accepting a hug from Patton as he followed.

"How'd it go?" Remy asked with a smirk, glancing up from his phone.

"We almost got arrested."

"Again?" Virgil snickered. "What happened this time?"

"THEY CHARGE WAY TOO MUCH FOR THE DONUTS!" Remus shouted over his shoulder. 

"How'd he try to steal them?" Patton asked. Logan slapped a hand over Remus' mouth before he could blurt out the answer. 

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed. He looked up at Patton. "Creatively," was all he said. He stepped past Remus and unlocked the house, leading everyone inside. "So this is a very last minute project, but I believe that we can accomplish our goal if we’re efficient at our jobs and work together." He winced as Remus roughly dumped the bags onto the kitchen counter. "Remy, let’s put you and Virgil in charge of decorating. Patton--"

"Uh, actually…" Patton cleared his throat. "Remus helped me come up with a good gift idea earlier…" Logan listened as he explained, and found himself nodding.

"Alright, you want to go take care of that, then?" Patton nodded and rushed off. "Okay, so slight plan change. Virgil, you and Remus will be in charge of the cake. Remy, I will assist you with the decorations. Any questions?" 

"Yeah. Can you kill me?"

"I'm sure you two will be fine, Virgil." Logan looked down at his watch. "We have three hours. Let's get going."

Virgil disappeared into the kitchen, muttering, and Remus pranced after him. Logan worried about it for a minute, but that was why he'd put Virgil in there with Remus. Surely he'd be able to handle him.

"Alright, so I've got some ideas. Ya think you can rig something up that'll drop confetti from overhead when you trigger it? Say, when someone opens the front door?" Remy looked back from where he was examining the walls, eyebrows raised. Logan thought about his suggestion for a moment, then nodded. 

"I'll see what I can do," he answered. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to hang up steamers and make a sign that'll hang from…probably here," Remy motioned to the ceiling and set his coffee down on the kitchen counter.

Logan set about gathering the materials he'd need for Remy's suggested confetti drop, and he was in the middle of trying to figure out what kind of tape to use when pandemonium erupted from the kitchen.

"Remus, we're trying to hurry here!" 

"Oh don't worry, I can mix it really fast!"

"REMUS NO!"

A high-pitched whirring sound came from the kitchen, and Logan and Remy burst into the room just as a cloud of flour and other ingredients exploded from the bowl. Instantly, everything within a twenty-foot radius was coated in white powder. Virgil shrieked and before Logan knew what was happening he was on top of the fridge, his hood pulled down over his face and his hands over his ears. Remus scrambled to stop the mixer, and ended up toppling the entire bowl of cake batter over onto the floor. The crash of breaking glass combined with the string of curses that came from Remus' mouth were enough to make anybody's ears ring, the mixer was still running, and how the hell did Virgil even get on top of the fridge?

Logan shook himself, then suddenly he was hurrying over towards Remus and the chaos he'd created, being careful not to step on any glass as he did so. He reached over and shut off the mixer, and the three exchanged glances over the now flour-coated kitchen.

"Huh," Remus said finally. " So that's why you're not supposed to do that." Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, causing a small avalanche of flour to join the rest of the disaster on the floor. 

"Go get a broom, Remus, I'll start wiping off the counters. Remy, can you get Virgil down from the fridge?"

"Oh thanks, give me that job,” Remy muttered. 

“Would you prefer wiping down the counters?”

“I would to getting bit by that bitch-ass vampire!” Logan sighed again and handed Remy the sponge. 

“Here, take this then.” Remy took the sponge and he started over to where Virgil was still sitting on top of the fridge. His hands hadn’t come away from his ears yet. Logan reached up and gently nudged his knee with one hand.

“It stopped,” he said quietly.

“Hsssssssss…” Virgil opened his eyes and glowered down at Logan. “I’m not getting down and you can’t make me. Not with that...not with Remus in here!”

“He’s not in here right now.” The other glanced up at this and seemed to consider this, but he didn’t move. 

“Look...I’ll trade with you,” Logan offered. “I’ll help Remus cook, and you can set up the confetti drop. That shouldn’t be too complicated and you won’t have to interact with him anymore, alright?” Virgil thought over the offer for a moment, then nodded slowly and slid off the top of the fridge. 

“How did you even get up there?” Remy asked as he exited the kitchen. 

“I have my ways.” The one in shades rolled his eyes and tossed the sponge to Logan, who only barely managed to catch it and got flour all over his shirt as a result. 

“Have fun.” Then Remy was gone. Logan began wiping everything down with the sponge and Remus came in a few minutes later, having finally located a broom. Somehow they managed to clean up the mess without any further incidents, and moved on to making the cake...again. There’s a reason I bought at least three boxes of cake mix, after all, Logan thought to himself with a small sigh. Once all the ingredients were in the bowl Remus moved to turn the mixer on again, but Logan stopped him before he could. 

“I don’t think so,” he grumbled. “Already had to get Virgil off the fridge once today.” “How’d he do that, by the way?”

“Who knows?” He started the mixer--slowly, this time, and soon enough they had a decent bowl full of cake batter.

“Remus, can you get me a glass pan?” He went in search of one while Logan went looking for the oil spray. 

“Can I do it?” Remus asked when they met back at the kitchen counter. How much of a mess could he cause? Logan hesitantly handed it to Remus, who promptly sprayed the oil in his own face. Okay, a lot of a mess.

“Dammit!” Remus quietly cursed and turned the nozzle, and before he knew what was happening Logan’s glasses were coated in oil, along with the rest of his face.

“Remus!”

“SHIT!”

Logan fumbled with his glasses and tried to wipe the oil off with the corner of his shirt, but he only succeeded in smearing it all over the lenses. 

“There, it’s in the pan!” Remus called. “How’d I do?”

“Remus, I can’t see.” 

“Don’t worry! I can take care of--”

“--REMY!!”

“What’s happening? Who’s on fire...Logan?” He saw his sassy friend’s blurry form enter the room, and gestured helplessly towards the green and black blob on his right. 

“Can you...stop him...get the cake in the oven...I gotta clean my glasses off now.” Logan stumbled over to the kitchen sink; Remus sounded outraged that Logan wasn’t trusting him with cake duty, and Remy was even more outraged at having been put in charge of the wildest, most chaotic human being that any of them had ever met. 

“Okay it’s in, try not to burn the house down Remus...chow.” Logan heard Remy leave as he scrubbed at his glasses with dish soap, while Remus flopped down onto the floor to watch the cake bake. Well, he probably wasn’t actually watching it bake, but as long as the house wasn’t catching fire things were going pretty good as far as Logan was concerned. He finished getting the last of the oil off of his glasses, dried them, and breathed a sigh of relief as the world came back into focus around him. It always made him nervous to not be able to see, though he’d never admit it of course.

Soon the cake was ready and the decorations had been prepared for the surprise party. Patton came back, laughed at Virgil’s wild telling of the incident in the kitchen, told Remus he’d done well for trying, and helped Logan make the frosting for the cake while Remus disappeared in order to ‘take care of Roman’s present,’ as he’d said. 

Whatever that meant.

“Got the pizza ordered?” Logan poked his head out of the kitchen once the cake was out and cooling off on the counter, directing his question at Remy.

“Hey, this bitch don’t mess around with pizza--of course I did.” Remy might’ve said more, but before he could continue Remus burst back into the house, holding a very oddly-wrapped something in his hands. 

“THE SACRIFICE HAS BEEN PREPARED!” he shrieked. Virgil flinched away from the loud noise and shook his head, while Logan and Remy raised their eyebrows and exchanged slightly worried, slightly amused glances. Remus’ wrapping skills were tragic at best, and as Patton came out of the kitchen his eyes went wide at the sight. 

“Do…do you...” he stopped himself and shook his head, retreating back into the kitchen. Logan glanced over at Remus. 

“We’re putting all the gifts on the counter over there, go ahead and add yours,” he told the other boy. Remus nodded and hurried over, adding his gift to the others that had already been stacked there. 

“You contact your brother?” Remus nodded quickly. 

“Yup!” Logan nodded, checking the room around them to ensure that all was in order. The front entryway had been transformed by Remy and Virgil’s handiwork--the confetti drop was up and ready over the doorway, set to fall when the string which had been tied to the door handle was pulled. Streamers were hung up on the walls, balloons were scattered around the low ceiling, and a large sign that said “Happy Birthday Roman!” hung from the middle, done in Remy’s handwriting of course. Virgil’s handwriting was usually illegible, Logan’s looked more like chicken scratch than the work of an actual human, Remus couldn’t spell, and Patton’s cursive was impossible to decipher in even the best situations. 

“The cake’s ready!” Patton came into the room, the cake balanced delicately in his hands. A blue, powdered sugar-coated apron hung from his shoulders and his hair was dusted white, as were his glasses. “Hey Logan--can you get the candles, please?”

“Certainly.” Logan retrieved the candles and lighter, arranging them on the cake in what he thought was a pleasing pattern. “Is Roman almost here?” he called to Remus. The other boy rushed to the window. 

“He’s coming down the street right now!” he announced. “Light the candles!”

“What did you tell your brother, anyways?” Logan asked as he flicked the lighter on. 

“I told him that you were texting him from my phone cause I got hurt and he needed to come over right away.” Patton’s eyes widened and he looked at Logan, who just shook his head. 

“It’s definitely believable,” Remy said, sipping at his Starbucks.

“How have you still not finished your coffee?”

“I bring extra.” Logan would’ve continued his questioning (like, how does one bring extra coffee and where was Remy hiding it?), but then a knock sounded at the door. He strode forward and opened it a crack. Roman was standing there, and he looked awfully worried. 

“Oh Lo, I’m so sorry about my idiot brother!” he burst out immediately, but before any more could be said Remus crashed into Logan, dragging the door open the rest of the way and yanking his brother into the house. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER!” He shouted as confetti rained down on them and Remy laughed his head off in the corner and Patton tried not to drop the cake. He came over with the dessert and they all started singing happy birthday to Roman--yes, even Logan did, though he’d never admit it later. 

“Wait...wait...you’re not hurt! This was just a surprise…” Roman’s jaw dropped, and then he snapped his mouth shut. “Remus! I thought you’d killed yourself!” He dragged his brother into a hug. “You idiot! Come up with a better excuse next time, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry!” Remus said, though he was so excited that he didn’t sound sorry at all. “C’mon c’mon c’mon, we got you presents and everything!” Roman looked around at the decorations that had been put up for him, and once he was sure that his brother was okay and the anger from that had worn off he grinned like an idiot as he walked through the room. A rather illegally cute idiot as far as Logan was concerned, though of course he didn’t admit that as he ushered the others into the living room and brought in the packages. 

“So the pizza should be here in a few minutes,” he said as the others sat down, “but we thought you’d like it if you could open your presents first.” Roman looked wide-eyed at the packages that had been set out in front of them, grinning from ear to ear. He reached first for a small, neatly packaged gift that had been wrapped in purple paper, and pulled it away to reveal a pair of red headphones. Virgil smiled awkwardly at his friend, who immediately reached across the room and pulled him into a hug. 

“I hope you like it,” he said quietly. 

“Like it? Like it? LIKE IT!? I love it!” Roman set the headphones down next to him, admiring them for a moment before reaching for a tiny silver package next. 

“Now you can stop begging me to buy you coffee,” Remy grinned as Roman held up a Starbucks gift card. 

“That’s awesome, thank you Remy!” Roman cast a confused look at the third package, which was wrapped in green, then looked at his brother. Remus looked like he was about to explode from sheer excitement and chaotic energy--it was a miracle he’d managed to stay quiet for as long as he had. He reached for it and pulled off the paper, holding up a large machete with a slightly-confused-but-excited expression. 

“Remus…?” “I’ve been saving up to get us matching ones!” Remus burst out. “Now we can duel! Isn’t that gonna be awesome!?”

“Nice!” The two high-fived and Roman hugged his brother again. Patton looked at Remus and Logan and stood up. 

“Just a minute,” he said quietly. He disappeared and came back a few minutes later, and Roman’s brow crinkled in confusion. 

“A backpack? Why’s it...moving? Why does it look so heavy?” Roman reached for it as Patton gently handed it to him, and let out a squeal as he opened the top and a little golden puppy leaped out of the bag and started licking his face. 

“Oh my gosh, a puppy!” He squealed. Patton and Remus both grinned, and Logan found himself smiling a little as well. 

“Remus got permission from your parents, I got my dad’s help, and Logan picked the puppy out for you,” Patton explained. Roman reached for the little note that had been tied to the puppy’s collar, reading it out loud. 

Dear Roman,

I hope you find this gift satisfactory, your brother mentioned that you had been wanting a dog for quite some time, so we thought that we would try to make your wish a reality. His name at the shelter was Tillie, but you may name him whatever you would like.

“You...amazing...nerd…” Roman slowly set the card down, then launched himself into Logan’s arms, hugging him tight. “Thank you so much!” They were suddenly joined by Remus, and out of the corner of his eye Logan saw Patton yell something and hug Virgil. The puppy wagged his little tail and tried to climb into Roman’s lap; he let go of Logan so that he could and then hugged the pup too. Remy watched them all from the couch, shaking his head and smirking. 

“What should we name it?” Roman asked, looking around at the others. 

“Shadow,” Virgil suggested. “Or maybe like, Killer, or Demon, or--”

“Chaos! Death! Destruction! Carrion! Carcass! Vulture! Decay!” Remus shouted, bouncing with every name idea. 

“How about...Rose? Or Lily. Or Tulip. Or Dandelion. Or Daisy…” Patton tried, clearly trying to remember every flower name he’d ever heard.

“Frappe, Latte, Mocha, Capuchino, Coffee bean.” Remy yawned, pretending that he wasn’t interested in the conversation at all.

“The most popular dog names include Max, Buddy, Jack, Rocky, Bear, and Charlie,” Logan quoted. 

“You googled most popular dog names?” Remy asked with a snort.

“I’m not good with names.” Logan shrugged. “But I figured I would do my best to contribute.”

“That’s so cute,” Patton gushed. “What do you think, Roman?” Roman held up the puppy, who wagged its tail and licked his face. He giggled.

“How about...Princess?” he said. “I like that name.”

“The dog is a male though,” Logan said, a little confused. 

“Princess the Magnificent, then.” Roman laughed and set the puppy down. 

“Princey for short,” Virgil said. 

“I like that!” Roman nodded, then hugged the puppy to his chest again. “You’re so cute!” he told the puppy.

The doorbell rang. 

“Pizza’s here,” Logan announced. Roman jumped up as he stood, then hugged him again.

“Thank you so much,” he whispered, “for making this the best birthday ever.”

#logan's bday #i did my best i hope you like it mate #you're amazing #fanfiction #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #remus #patton sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #sleep sanders #virgil sanders #logince #intrulogical #moxiety

[alfredosauce50]

Who’s the bad guy? (2p + 1p America x reader) 14

Wordcount: 2,961 The reader is referred to as she/her

The driver just couldn't help it. With two men bleeding all over his leather, one with blood painted all over their face and the other with their white dress shirt stained with crimson blotches, he frequently darted his eyes to his rearview mirror. That way he could update himself on just what was going on with his two patrons, where one of them was on the brink of death. His head was mostly limp as he sat in the back; face pale and glazed with sweat, he miraculously scraped together his remaining willpower and energy to talk to his redhaired accompaniment. "... Where did you say Luciano was again?" He coughed. And once again, the driver let his visage travel to the rearview mirror with a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. His brows would twitch at every cough and splutter Alfred let out. If he was not gurgling on his blood for the moment, there was no need to react this way. 

Despite his companion's condition not being much better than his own, he huffed heavily and still responded. "Everywhere. We gotta find him with Flavio's help." That was when Alfred burst into a coughing fit, spluttering and hacking violently to spew a little bit of blood onto the seat in front of him. "... You-" He interrupted himself with another cough. "-don't know?" Allen's brows furrowed, nodding without another word. As evident in his expression that contorted into resentment, he did not want to delve into their obstacle any further. And so, a silence so tense fell around them that a knife could cut right through it. Of course, it was not completely quiet because of the sounds of nightly traffic and the dripping of blood. The man behind the wheel flickered his eyes back to them once more. "... Uh... You guys sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" He asked, to where the two figures behind shook their head simultaneously at. It was the third time he had brought up the question. "No thanks." They mumbled. "Lennox Hill Hospital is right on the left if you guys wanna go-" "No." "Are you sure?" Allen's nostrils flared and he shot up. "NO!" The man flinched. "Is that a no because you're unsure or it that a no because-" Stretching of leather was heard as one of them sat up. Reaching for the headrest right behind his head, he craned his own to the side so he could stare at the side of his sweat-glazed face. "If you wanna keep this car and job, then I suggest you keep driving." He whispered, striking red eyes round with menace. Despite his volume being low, the tone in how he worded things made him sound threatening. The other responded with a quick nod and fixated his attention back onto the black road ahead like he was supposed to. "You got it, buddy." The ride felt so much longer than what the cousins expected. What felt like hours was only around twenty minutes. Alfred wanted some time away from the flashing lights of paparazzi and the blinking lights of the city. Glowing billboards, crazy taxi drivers and towering structures scattered at every corner were signs of a dense population hotspot, and that just meant more people to deal with. Allen on the hand just missed his hometown. It was much quieter there, as ironic as it sounded, but it was true. So when the bustle of life faded away and they drove into his neighborhood, he felt a rush of euphoria and relief surge through his veins. The rundown single-story house at the end of the street stood there in all its glory, beckoning its owner to enter it. It was the perfect embodiment of poor living standards, but damn, it was luxury in Allen's eyes. He jumped out of his seat and pointed it out to the driver. "There! Just stop there." He exclaimed. "Okay, got it." The vehicle slowed down in front of the driveway so that crushing of asphalt could be heard. The interior lit up as the car doors flung open. Allen stepped out first to marvel at the house, but when he heard the painful grunts sourcing from a blonde just behind, he turned around. Before he collapsed onto the ground, Allen reached out and held him up around his stomach to avoid the wound in his shoulder. "Yo, you good?" Alfred struggled up to his feet while holding onto him desperately. "Shit, thanks." He whispered. They made their way up to the front door and he never experienced this much trouble going up a few stairs in his life. By the time he was facing the front door, his body was finally succumbing to the wound in his shoulder that ripped a few tendons. "Actually... I don't feel so good..." When the flyscreen flung open, its screeches faded out into a ring in his ears and he fell forward. His face collided with the front door, pushing it open so he could land on the ground inside in a heavy thud. Allen was already struggling with his weight when he was conscious, but when that left Alfred's body, he was unable to prevent him from plummeting down onto the floor. "Shit!" Allen hissed and rushed to his side. "How the fuck was the door unlocked anyway?!" Blood was pooling on the wooden floorboards he was lying on, and the grotesque sight of how much red there was escalated his heart rate. The only sensation he knew now was pure panic as he carried him over to the couch. Little did he know, another person was there in the house with them. Much too focused on getting Alfred's limp body into a flat position, he did not notice the man that just moved off of the piece of furniture. "Oh my god. What the absolute fudge happened to him?!" Flying back out of sheer shock, he threw the pillow in his hands with a scream. Allen found himself gawking at a familiar blonde and grabbed the fabric around where his thundering heart would have been. "Flavio? The hell are you doing here? You know you gave me a heart attack!" He wheezed. Said man pulled out a baby pink handkerchief and a bottle of clear liquid. Spraying the little square of velvety material a few times with perfume inside, he pressed it to his nose and inhaled deeply. "I was here since nine. I was waiting for you guys to come back and I've got to say-" Flavio dug his finger into the corner of the handkerchief so he could wave it around. In all honesty, he was whipping it, not waving. "I don't want to know where you crazy people have been, nor do I wanna know what you've been doing. Not at all! No, no no!" Allen breathed heavily and furrowed his brows at that. He was going to have to explain their current predicament because Alfred was unconscious, and the thought made him grit his teeth. "Look, Flavio. I can't really talk right now because I have Alfred to look after, but I have a story filled with shit to tell you." He spoke really quickly because he was both breathless and under a tight time constraint. He ran into the kitchen and returned with a large rectangular box. It was a glossy white with a green cross sticker stuck on it. "Mmhmmm." He hummed, stretching out the 'mm' and 'hm' to emphasize his displeasure. "I just told you that I didn't wanna know, but you don't care-" "Of course I don't." He mumbled, ripping open the shirt Alfred was wearing. Buttons flew everywhere and they bounced around on the ground in light taps. He then proceeded to clean the wound, and when Flavio saw, he backed away. "Why is it always him?" He asked in a volume no louder than a whisper. "That's cause he's always making mistakes..." Allen murmured. He pressed his hands on his body to apply pressure so his blood flow would improve. Flavio rose his brows and eyed him with skepticism. But that was exactly what Allen did 24/7. Allen caught that look and stretched his eyes. "... And he doesn't know how to defend himself." Flavio shook his head with a sigh. He then folded his arms and watched the two in a tense silence. "So, what happened?" He finally broke that silence as concern overwhelmed all feelings of disgust that associated with the situation at hand. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he also noticed that you were nowhere in sight. You left with them to Alfred's penthouse, so why did you not return with them as well? "I took care of (F/N)'s shop while you guys were gone. Where is she?" Allen stopped moving and a shadow consumed half his face. It was as if he stopped breathing. If it were not for the bandages coiled around Alfred's chest and shoulder already, he would have bled to death due to his cousin's sudden cease in activity. Images of you flashed in his mind. He recalled the screams and chaos that seized the venue, as well as the stinging pain in his palms. It returned to burn his hands like a ghost sickness and he stood up. "... She's not here." Allen turned his head slowly to Flavio and separated his lips shakily. "Luciano took her. And all I did was watch." He slid the shades off the bridge of his nose to reveal a pair of magenta irises. That way, he could pinch the area between his eyes. "... How could you?" The other dug his hands through his hair and rubbed it stressfully. "I don't fucking know. I could have stopped them, but I didn't... I couldn't!" Flavio stormed up to him and poked him in the chest just under the collarbone. He glared in those striking red irises with his own that were almost glowing with menace. "That's an excuse because you could. I know you're not the type to just give up easily. You had a chance." He dug his finger deep into his flesh under his shirt. "You know how to run. You know how to steal cars. You know how to fire a gun. And most importantly, you can make quick decisions in risky situations. So what happened?" Allen was beyond shocked at the sudden change of behavior, and he was speechless at what he said because it was all true. He was more than capable of chasing down mobsters like Luciano even when they used the latest car models that could travel at the speed of light. He could chase down anything in the world if it involved you. "... I don't-" "You do!" He exasperated, turning around to storm off for a bit. But he returned right after to keep talking. "You made a mistake, and it's way worse than whatever Alfred did." Allen's breath fanned onto his face, and that was when he discovered the answer. It was laced with alcohol. "You classless pig. You were drinking on the job!" Flavio fumed. "Is getting drunk more important than looking out for your friends?!" "No, of course not! I just didn't know-" The other shook their head and sighed angrily. "That doesn't matter. I thought you moved there in the first place because you were worried about (F/N)'s safety. And look what happened. You still fu- messed up!" He quickly corrected himself and threw his hands in the air in rage. "Jesus H Christ. I can't believe you, Allen. You can't just take breaks like that when you have people like my brother around. You're the last person in the world to forget that." Allen did not even try to argue anymore. He just glared at him with a vein popping around his neck and contained all the emotions inside. "... So, what can we do?" He finally let go of the breath he held. Flavio clicked his tongue. "Gee, it's really hard to say, Allen. We need the most intricate and well-thought-out plan if we wanna do anything at all. But of course, we strike when his guard his lowest, so during-" "-the day, got it. What else?" He paused for a moment. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you details to Luciano's hideouts, and I'll update you on his whereabouts whenever I can. Then, it's all up to you." He explained, glancing at Alfred. That was when he noticed his eyes flickering, then opening. He sat up slowly with a groan and rubbed his face. "Um..." Flavio appeared flabberghasted. "I kinda forgot to tell you that Luciano laces his knives with poison, so how he's awake so quickly I don't know how-- but I guess I didn't have to in the end," That was when the clicking of leather shoes was heard and another voice interrupted the conversation. As Allen helped Alfred to sit up properly, the newcomer established his presence by clearing his throat. "Oh yeah, he's like that." Everyone whipped their heads to the man at the same time. "He just can't die." "Happy?!" Flavio just contorted his face into a weird look. Who the hell was he? Happy nodded. "Yeah, I got your text. I figured you guys would've needed someone to drive you around." *** You did not imagine your place of death to be comfortable. Instead of being tied up on a cheap, rickety chair in somebody's basement with a single light source hanging over your head, you were kept in a lavish bedroom. You were still constrained in a way, but not to the extreme case of not being able to move at all. Sliding your legs off of the bed you had been sleeping like a log on, you walked over to the door and jiggled the handle. You were just locked in a room of what looked like a luxurious mansion, which was, of course, located God knows where. Kicking the polished mahogany wood a few times, you gave in with an extended sigh and sauntered to the marble balcony. The French doors you passed through to get outside were conveniently opened already, so wind had been blowing in since square one. "... Where am I?" You mumbled, folding your arms across the stone railing. Lush, green gardens and fountains spewing out water in beautiful patterns were found everywhere underneath. "Whatever this place is, I like it." It was even better than Alfred's penthouse, per se. "Why thank you, bella. I take pride in my gardens." Somebody murmured. "Woah!" You twisted yourself to the right to find one of the garden chairs occupied by a familiar face. His prominent Italian accent and oddly-hued eyes could be recognized from miles away. He had been staring out into the vegetation below as well, just like you, except he was playing with a knife in one hand. Jumping back when you caught sight of the sharp blade rolling in his fingers, he chuckled and stood up. "Don't get near me with that thing, you creepy Italian!" He tucked the throwing knife into his jacket with a grumble. "Luciano." "What?" He walked over to you and grabbed your hand. "My name. It's Luciano." You were beyond confused about his intentions when he grasped your hand, but when he bent down to kiss the back of it, it hit you. "Do all Europeans do that?" You suddenly asked. Luciano's brows twitched and he stood up straight again with a frown. "No? It really varies on the person." He responded. "And why Americans always generalize things I will never know either." Pulling your hand away from his fingers, you wrapped your arms around yourself to shield against the cold. "True." He assumed that you were uncomfortable outside from your body language, so he attached a hand to your back and ushered you back inside. Luciano was being so gentle it made you suspicious of his motives. So when your feet made contact with the soft carpet inside again, you turned to him with furrowed brows. "Luciano, why are you being so nice?" He walked over to one of the dressers and pulled out some robes. He returned and draped it over your shoulders while you stood there, filled to the brim with confusion. Although you were grateful for what he was doing, in the time being, you did not understand why he was doing these things for you. Previously, you were not wearing much at all, just a slightly transparent nightgown. But now, you were a little more decent with something to cover up with. "... Because I don't have a reason to do the opposite." Luciano replied. "And you're a pretty girl." Blood rushed up to your cheeks and you shot him an incredulous look. He laughed at that and leaned in to fan his hot breath over your neck. "I see why Allen likes you so much." Goosebumps pricked all over your skin when he whispered into your ear, so you pushed him away with a gasp. "What are you going to do with Allen? What are you gonna do with me? I thought you wanted to kill me!" You exclaimed. "Seriously, Luciano. What are you playing at?" Luciano did not answer the first question. "I don't want to kill you." He replied. "I need you alive, for Allen." With that, he turned around and made his way to the door. But then, he stopped again so you could stare at his back. "You don't deserve to die. I just want you to realize that the best friend you love so much is not what he seems." Luciano murmured. "And by the time he comes to get you, you won't want to go home. To him."

#hetalia #hetalia x reader #reader #reader insert #aph #Axis Powers Hetalia #Axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia fanfic #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #thriller #crime #aph america #2p talia #2ptalia #2ptalia x reader #alfred f jones #allen jones #allen jones x reader #2pamerica #2p america #2p america x reader

[heistcraft]

BETH’S ATTEMPTS AT FEELING IN CONTROL   /    do not reblog.

beth has this habit that if her life is spinning out of control,  she will grasp onto anything she can in order to feel like she has some bit of control.  it’s usually the smallest of things,  but it’s things she’s really good at / knows well / things she does all the time she clings to that ground her. 

sometimes,  they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.  life would go on without them without anything changing.  and they almost seem out of place for her to be doing given the bigger picture,  but they make her feel sane and in control.   she does it for the normalcy,  to convince herself that she’s not lost.  

‘ i am going the speed limit.  i’m not going to get a ticket. ‘  the man they kidnapped escaped,  and while they’re chasing after him to save themselves from going to jail for what they did to him,  she’s focused on not getting in trouble based on her driving.  she could be risking real jail time but at least she won’t have a speeding ticket,  right?

the blanket she made for ruby’s daughter.  annie calls her out and says ‘ who are you, can’t you just go to a store? ’  but that’s not who beth is.  and it’s not just about the fact that she loves to craft and it’s something she’s good at / does all the time,  but it’s something she knows.  it’s one thing that she knows she can do without struggle,  so she fixates on that to try to make herself feel better about the bigger picture.  that,  and all of this started because they wanted to provide for their families.  all of them have always crossed over,  doing the most they can for the other women’s daughters too.  this is such a grand gesture for a little girl because it’s so completely personal and there’s no question that beth cares for her because of it  (  it’s also likely a big reason ruby remembered exactly why she can’t sell her friends out.  )  she says it herself,  ‘ it’s not a kidney, ‘ and it’s not the real fix,  but at least she can do something to help.  it’s in her comfort zone.  she probably got entirely lost in that task and it gave her a chance to breathe for a while.  

the coaster.  she’s cleaning up blood from her carpet,  takes a drink,  sets the mug back on the table,  but seconds later realizes it’s not on a coaster.  there is blood staining her carpet, yet she can’t risk having a ring on her table so she moves it to put it on the coaster.  she’s spending so much time trying to clean the blood off the floor after something she feels entirely guilty for herself  ----  so to combat that,  she can at least avoid one small mess by using a coaster. 

baking for dean.  she goes overboard when he comes home from the hospital by cooking all his favorite foods and slipping back into her role of the perfect mother in attempt to cover up the fact  (  mostly,  to herself  )  that she’s the one who got him shot. 

the children’s lunches.  spending time to make all of the kids’ lunches look special and personalizing them,  despite everything else going on in her home now.  it’s so minimal,  but it’s one of the staples to her as a mother  ——  creating faces on her food,  mostly of animals and probably specific to each child from their favorite animal.  it’s something little to bring joy to her children,  something she has always done for them.  they just threw a man away but at least her kids will smile at their lunches.  

and other times,  these things only cause more problems.  she tries to take control over something she knows she CAN fix to ignore the fact that she can’t fix everything.  i like the way this post puts it by saying  ‘  it’s her MO to fix her mess and leave more chaos behind her.  she is like a dormant volcano of chaotic energy.  ‘  that’s exactly what she does and who she is.   examples ---

robbing the grocery store.  obviously,  but their idea of  ‘  no one knows how much money grocery stores actually have that’s just sitting there ‘   etc. isn’t the real problem there.  yeah,  they steal money from a grocery store + blindly a gang,  but it’s what they do in the store.  they’re waving guns at people and regardless of if they have no ill intent,  these people are likely traumatized from this experience,  but because they don’t have to face them,  they’re not thinking about what they’ve done to the shoppers.

leaving her pearls on the door knob.  they had repaid their debts to the gang and they were out.  but they had just accomplished something that seemed fairly easy and clean to beth,  and because of that,  she was intrigued and wanted more.  it felt like this was the perfect way to keep earning and providing for her family,  and though she’s smart,  she was oblivious and naive to the real nature of what she was doing ---- because she didn’t think about the fact that the gang would make them do more than just move money.  she didn’t like that dean was trying to fix things with her by guilting her with money issues,  so she wanted to fix this issue by making money of her own.  but now,  she’s pulled them all back into the gang,  without asking ruby and annie if that’s okay,  and ultimately sending all the people in her life down a darker road again.   ------    ‘ you thought you could pick and choose what you wanna do and when you wanna do it? ‘   /   ‘ she thought it would be like driving an uber. ‘  

the secret shoppers.  they are taking innocent, naive women and bringing them into this life of crime that they didn’t know they were getting themselves into either at first.  by bringing others into this,  they’re helping themselves get the money they need and do the jobs they have to faster,  but they’re also hurting these women in the end  ----  and mary pat shows us that,  because she was hurt once she found out that what they’re doing is shady,  and she didn’t sign up for that. 

‘ so we don’t tell rio. ‘ ‘ no, we do. it’s that kid or us. ‘ despite knowing the guy talking to the feds will likely be killed by the gang if they tell rio,  she’s willing to do it if it protects themselves.  

the stop sign.  there are continuous problems with the stop sign missing on her street,  so in a fit of rage and hurt and sadness and exhaustion,  she steals another stop sign and moves it to her street.  she fixes one problem,  but she leaves a problem for the people on the other street.  but at least she could fix one problem  ----  and at least,  from where she’s standing,  she can see that everything is fine  (  but where she stole the stop sign from doesn’t affect her,  and she can ignore that in her own mind.  )  

beth can correct a thousand little things when the bigger things feel out of her control.  it’s her way of staying in control and convincing herself that she hasn’t lost it entirely.  this doesn’t include every example because there are a lot but these are the most fascinating to me.

#d.nt reblog / #°.🔫 ❪ HC. ❫ * when did life become this monster we have to constantly feed? #°.🔫 ❪ STUDY. ❫ * all this time i was a wolf / you imagined me as a sheep. #me finally finishing a half written meta from may 2018:

[sodalester]

Rest Your Head Now (Everything’s Alright)

summary: 3 times Dan and Phil napped on tour + 1 time they couldn’t sleep

genre: straight up fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.8k

written for @phandomficfests

a big shoutout to @jorzuela for being my beta! a big help considering i wrote half of this while half asleep

requests are open!

ao3 link

1.

There was something almost soothing about the in between state of consciousness Phil found himself in. His eyes were closed, lids too heavy to open and no reason to do so. He was leaning against something warm.

Perhaps it was someone; someone with dark curly hair and a soft, fond smile as he felt Phil against his side.

He could hear the movement of the train as it travelled, wind rushing outside the window and the tracks sliding against the wheels. It was quiet inside the train, as it always was with public transportation, the noises outside were the only sound to be heard.

Phil wasn’t exactly asleep, but he was far from awake. His mind was almost scarily silent, free from any worries or burdens. It was peaceful, he felt peaceful.

He didn’t remember where he was going or what for. All he knew was that he was on a train and there was someone warm against him. That someone smelled good too, a sharp contrast to the metallic and stale air of the train. Instinctively, he moved closer, pressing his nose to the skin of the person who had unknowingly become his pillow.

He heard a gentle laugh, the sound making his heart squeeze. It was a familiar laugh, one he had heard many times. His heart had recognized it and sang because of  it.

Something soft touched his arm. It travelled up and down it, continuing its feather-like touch. Phil liked it; it was drawing him farther into the grip of sleep.

“You awake?” a voice whispered. Phil could feel the rumbles of the words before he heard them, a side effect of touching the skin.

Phil wanted to respond, wanted to say something, but his mind was blank. Too tired to form sentences or move more muscle than he already had.

He felt something something touch his forehead. It was warm yet chapped and all too familiar for Phil to fight it. It made him sigh happily, melt further into the warmth of the person.

“You’re so sweet,” the voice hummed, “how did I ever get lucky enough to be loved by someone like you?”

The hand moved from his arm to his hair, pushing his quiff back. Then, it tugged on his glasses, removing them and relieving him from the slight discomfort.

“I love you, Phil.”

Phil sighed again, his way of saying “I love you” back without having to utter words. The hand was back on his arm and sleep was slowly claiming him.

He napped with a small smile on his face and close to the body of his lover.

His lover rested his head on top of Phil’s, growing tired himself. They had another four hours on the train and time felt so long with little space the move around in. Maybe they’d nap for the rest of the trip or wake up a few hours before they arrived in Scotland.

Either way, his lover was content to drift off as well, falling asleep with Phil.

2.

Phil was, despite his friendly attitude and glee towards fans, reserved about himself and his own private details.This applied to everyone who knew him, even Dan. He liked to keep his emotions private, liked to deal with things alone.

Of course, that never stopped Dan from finding out that he was struggling, but it was a hard habit he couldn’t break.

They were neck deep into the tour, speeding across America and travelling overnight through winding roads, the sound of the engine running. Perform, pack up, travel. One minute Phil was asleep and the next he was standing on stage in front of hundreds.

He ignored the stress, didn’t talk about it or even acknowledge it. He let it fester in the back of his mind, only rising during night and stealing precious sleep from him.

When the stress found that it wasn’t being listen to, it turned physical.

Dan was sitting on the bus couch, scrolling through his phone without a care. They were in between venues and parked at a rest stop to use an actual bathroom and regroup.

Phil boarded the bus, his feet dragging and body hunched over. He made a beeline to Dan wordlessly, easing himself onto the couch next to him. He cuddled up to Dan, clinging onto his arm and resting his head on Dan’s shoulder. Dan didn’t say anything, too caught up in what he was reading to notice Phil’s clinginess.

Phil was rarely clingy, preferring to keep things lazy and natural. The only times Dan had noticed him being clingy were when he was overwhelmed, exhausted, or sick. Those were the times were Phil broke down his own personal safeguard to let Dan in and finally let himself heal.

Dan didn’t take notice until his phone alerted him of a low battery, pulling him from his realm of reading. Frowning, he reluctantly locked it and tried to stand up. He was stopped, however, by a pitiful whine from Phil who clung desperately to his arm.

Dan noticed how Phil’s face was twisted in discomfort, one he would get when he had too much lactose or had twisted a muscle the previous day. Dan’s heart faltered in sympathy, suddenly very worried about Phil.

“Phil? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phil insisted when clearly there was something hurting him.

Dan softened, knowing he’d have to convince Phil to talk to him. He was so stubborn, it was silly. Dan pushed some of Phil’s hair back, his touches gentle and soothing. “Baby, I know something’s wrong. Please just talk to me, you don’t have to be scared.”

Phil caved in, the pet name and touches melting any stubbornness he had. “My stomach hurts and I don’t feel good.”

Dan’s worries only increased. He placed a hand against Phil’s forehead, checking for a fever. There was no heat, thankfully, though that didn’t help Dan to find the cause of Phil’s illness.

“Was it something you ate? Is it lactose?”

Phil shook his head. “Ate the same things as you and haven’t had any milk today.” He groaned as his stomach cramped unpleasantly.

Dan lowered his hand, letting it settle on Phil’s shoulder. As far as Dan knew, there weren’t any outside sources causing the stomachache.

“Is it stress?”

Phil didn’t answer, instead curling up further against Dan. His body language answered Dan’s question for him.

Dan cooed, heart melting with sympathy. “That bad?”

Phil nodded.

“Love, why didn’t you come talk to me earlier? You know I wouldn’t have minded helping,” Dan whispered, forehead creased with concern.

Phil sighed. “I know, I just thought I could handle it.”

Dan wished Phil would rely on him more, yet he knew that that was simply how Phil was. In the end, he’d always open up to Dan.

Dan leaned forward and kissed Phil’s forehead, trying to comfort him and ease his mind. “I don’t think we have any painkillers on the bus.”

Phil shook his head. “Painkillers wouldn’t work anyway. Need to relax.”

“How about a nap? I could play some soft music and cuddle you while you rest.”

A nap did sound appealing and Phil could desperately use the sleep. “Yes, please.”

Dan pulled him up gently and led him to the back of the tour bus where the bed was. He closed the door, hoping the rest of the management would understand that they needed to be alone.

Dan picked up some sweats from his suitcase that was lying open. “Here, put on some sweats. I doubt those jeans are helping with the pain.”

As Phil changed, Dan setup his laptop 0n the bedside table. He already had some sleep music downloaded as a suggestion from his therapist. The soft sounds filled the room, giving the atmosphere a more quiet feeling to it.

Phil curled up on the bed, hugging his arms around his stomach. He watched as Dan lowered the blinds and turned off the light, plunging the room into mostly darkness. There was some more rustling then Dan was climbing into the bed with Phil.

He didn’t say anything, instead pulling Phil close to him and letting his hand rest on his back, rubbing small circles. He kissed Phil’s nose, then his forehead, finally resting his head on top of his hair.

Dan listened as Phil’s breathing slowed down as he fell asleep. He smiled and closed his own eyes, the music and warmth of Phil making him drowsy.

When their manager found them curled up together on the bed, she didn’t have the heart to wake up them up.

3.

Dan was truly something else, Phil mused.

They were celebrating another successful evening by visiting a high end club nearby. The drinks had fancy names that Phil stumbled over while Dan somehow pronounced them effortlessly. His was fruity with a certain punch to it that burned his throat yet left him wanting more.

More rounds of drinks were served. Phil was talking idly with someone from management while Dan scrolled through his phone, his body connected to Phil’s. It was his way of being clingy without being too dramatic; the warmth of Phil’s body and the physical touch was enough to starve off the affectionate monster that rose in Dan whenever he had a few drinks in his system.

Phil had finished his conversation when he finally turned to Dan. He was expecting him to still be on his phone, scrolling through twitter and looking at what their followers had to say.

Only, Dan wasn’t on his phone. Instead, his head was lulled to the side, mouth parted slightly and hair ruffled, with his eyes closed.

Phil felt his heart leap in his chest, the warm feeling of love and affection spreading through him like a wildfire. He sighed softly, a smile stuck on his face as he stared at the sleeping man next to him.

It must have been the alcohol, a sedative that worked its magic on Dan’s already exhausted body. Phil most certainly didn’t mind how fucking /adorable/ Dan looked. The steady rise and fall of his chest was therapeutic, a sign of peace and stability amidst the chaos of tour.

How could Phil not love this man?

He wrapped his arm around Dan’s waist and leaned his body into his own, adjusting it so his head fell on his shoulder. He smelled of fruity cocktails and cologne and Phil loved it. He couldn’t help but press kisses into Dan’s hair, not caring if the whole world was watching.

Dan stirred, making a whining noise and hiding his face in Phil’s neck. He let out a long breath and tried to fall back asleep.

Phil couldn’t help but giggle. “Taking a nap at the club? That’s a new one for you.”

Dan groaned, scrunching his nose and reluctantly opening his eyes. His head felt dizzy with alcohol, but with  Philby his side he felt stable.

“Shush, ‘m sleeping,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s neck.

Phil merely laughed once more then kissed Dan’s hair. “I don’t think a club is exactly the best place to take a nap at, but you do you.”

Dan lifted his head to glare at Phil, only this proved to be a mistake as Phil took this as an invitation to kiss Dan’s cheeks. And once he started, he didn’t stop.

“Phil,” Dan complained, blushing from being smothered with kisses, “Stop it.”

Phil beamed and placed one last kiss on Dan’s cheek, satisfied with his work. Dan was now a flustered, sleepy mess with red cheeks and heavy eyes.

“How about we go back to our hotel room and sleep there? I think you’ll find it much comfier,” Phil offered.

Dan pouted. “But it’s so far away.”However, he knew that they did need to return, and he really didn’t want to spend the night sleeping at an unknown club. “Fine, but if I fall asleep on the ride back, you’re carrying me in.”

He did fall asleep on the ride, not that Phil was surprised. He merely smiled and tried to ignore the feeling of dread as he realized he would have to carry Dan to their hotel room.

But he’d do it for Dan, because he loved him.

+1.

This hotel had a balcony, one that overlooked the city.

They were Mumbai, one of their last tour places. It was well past midnight yet the buzzing of the city had yet to die down. It reminded Phil faintly of home, of his own city that even at night  was alive.

Phil was tired, his muscles aching from their performance (along with other activities) and eyes burning with a plea for sleep. His mind, however, was far too awake for sleep.

How long had it been since he had seen home, slept in his own bed? A home that pretty soon, they’d be moving out of anyways.

His brain was plagued with thoughts of the future and past, but mostly of Dan. Dan who was fast asleep in their hotel bed, hair still damp from the shower they had shared. Phil smiled longingly, remembering Dan’s skin against his own and the way he had looked after Phil had his way with him.

He was flawed, yet somehow perfect in every sense. Phil’s mind always went to him; he was Phil’s base and Phil’s home, the one thing he could count on.

Nine years together and Phil was almost desperate to marry him.

Phil sighed at that thought, his chest aching with desire. There had always been too much going on, too much doubt, too much attention. Phil always wanted it to be perfect, yet he could never tell when that moment would be.

He closed his eyes, letting them rest. His head pounded and he knew that realistically he needed to go to sleep.

Warm arms found their way around his waist and suddenly Dan was there, resting his chin on Phil’s shoulder.

“Can’t sleep?”

Phil shook his head. “Can’t stop thinking.”

Dan hummed. He didn’t ask what it was about, knowing that Phil preferred to talk about it on his own terms. Instead he stood there, smelling of hotel soap and sweat from the heat, holding Phil in his arms.

Phil couldn’t bear it any longer, the tightness in his chest physically painful and the voices in his mind screaming at him to speak. He felt his nerves jump as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Marry me.”

Dan squeezed Phil’s waist and let out a shaky breath. “Really?”

Phil laid his hand over Dan’s and suddenly all nervousness he had, left. This was Dan, the same man who had grown with him from a clash of emo and awkwardness to an adult with a job and a house in the future.

“Dan,” he turned to face him, staring into Dan’s eyes. They reflected the moon as they stared at Phil with wonder and surprise. “There’s nothing more I want in my life than to grow old with you. To own a house and maybe even raise some kids of our own.”

Phil heard Dan’s voice hitch. He had always wanted to be a father; Phil remembered from a distinct conversation they had one night when Dan was drunk off his ass.

“I want to call you my husband and do all the things a cheesy gay married couple would do. You’re everything I want and have wanted for years now.”

Phil could see Dan smile, his eyes watering as sobs slowly built up in his throat. When one escaped, he ducked to hide his head in Phil’s chest.

“Phil, oh Phil I,” Dan stumbled over his words, too overwhelmed to even know where to begin, “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you, you stupid fucking dork. Fuck.”

Phil felt his own eyes water and he buried his nose in Dan’s hair, letting the few tears he had slip out. They were like rain on a wildfire, soothing the storm in him.

“Shit, I was going to ask once the tour was over, but fucking hell-” Dan laughed, looking up at Phil. “You’re bloody amazing and I can’t believe I’m going to marry you.”

Phil laughed softly, a bit too emotional and trying to keep himself from sobbing from relief and pure love for Dan. He hurriedly kissed Dan, overwhelmed in the best way possible. He had to pull back, however, as he let out a sob. One lead to another and pretty soon he was grossly crying.

Dan cooed, hugging him close and letting Phil cry on his shoulder. He could feel Phil trembling and his sobs coming out in uneven breathes.

“I-I love you so much,” Phil managed, clinging onto Dan for dear life.

Dan closed his eyes as his heart soared to new, dangerous heights. “I love you too. You’re my everything.”

They went to bed much later when they were both much more composed, hearts singing and permanent smiles on their faces.

It was the best night of sleep that Phil had ever had.

#my fics #my cat is on top of me help hes so fluffy #phanfic #phanfiction #phan proposal #dan and phil #phandom #dnp #phan fluff

[thesinglesjukebox]

VAMPIRE WEEKEND - HARMONY HALL [7.10] So I was going to re-use one of our taglines from previous entries as a hat-tip to self-referencing, but none of them made sense in context. So you'll have to make do with editorial whingeing instead.

Joshua Copperman: Like most people, I pressed play expecting to gawk at how much of a mess this is, and "Harmony Hall" initially sounds like the slick, misguided pop crossover everyone feared, but the melancholy edge of Modern Vampires is both less noticeable and more present than ever. An early Vampire Weekend song could start with that guitar riff, but not the low, warm synth pad. Even Modern Vampires would be gloriously cluttered with sounds, yet Manny Marroquin's mix is intensely spacious -- the choirs panned to the left and stay there, the delays ping-ponging then abruptly cutting out. No one listens to Vampire Weekend for social commentary, but Koenig goes beyond "Trump bad," instead focusing on the return of hate groups and the reemergence of anti-semitism (hiding that particular vulnerability "beneath these velvet gloves"). The callback to "I don't want to live like this/but I don't want to die" works because how tired it sounds. The line was gleeful and drawn-out in 2013, but in 2019 it's just a throwaway line to nod to the default mood. Another week, a thousand media jobs laid off, another hate crime, another swastika on a college campus, every refresh of a Twitter feed another potential verse of "Love It If We Made It" (obviously intentional on Matt Healy's part.) This isn't happy-but-secretly-sad; it's what happy sounds like when sad is normal. [9]

Ian Mathers: I think I emitted an audible little laugh in my cubicle when I first heard "I don't want to live like this, but I don't want to die" (you and me both, buddy). Something about that "Sympathy for the Devil" rolling percussion and the piano and even Ezra Koenig's current delivery makes this mostly sound like something I might have heard on oldies radio on a family road trip when I was a kid (i.e. before they added the 80s and 90s to those stations), except... better? I don't know, every time I think I'm done with these guys they grab me again somehow. I guess you can sign me up for [checks stories about new album]... Father of the Bride. Sigh. [8]

Claire Biddles: Vampire Weekend are virtuosos at encapsulating a very evocative (and I hate to say it, very millennial) melancholic yearning: a hyper-specific nostalgia for the recent past. How delicious, then, to find this distilled not just in the lyrical content, but conceptually: a callback to an album track from five years ago, when our troubles felt so huge. [7]

Thomas Inskeep: Starts out sounding like wimpy early '70s male folk, and by just past the chorus it's almost got a '73 Stones vibe going (we're this close to a gospel choir coming in, and yes, that was a vibraslap) -- so is this their Arcade Fire arena move? The biggest problem here is that, it's still Vampire Weekend, so it's still all too wimpy. [4]

Katie Gill: This is a friggin' weird song. The beautiful discordance of the depressing lyrics with the bubbly sound makes sense. The surprise piano solo in the middle of the song kind of makes sense. But I just can't wrap my head around why this song sounds so intensely dorky. Is it the plinky piano background? Is it that dumb percussion bit before "anger wants a voice"? Is it the Is it the fact that it's 2019 and I'm getting Paul Simon flashbacks? Seriously, swap out that piano for a horn section and you've got the b-side to "You Can Call Me Al." No matter what, you have to hand it to Vampire Weekend. They've certainly made something with a unique sound and something that I suspect will be talked about for weeks, if not months. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: With "Harmony Hall," Koenig's revealed himself as having anxieties aplenty, and it's loudly signaled with a self-referential lyric ("I don't wanna live like this, but I don't wanna die"). There's grief caused by the corruption hidden inside seemingly honorable institutions, and the song's chipper and (regrettably) Grateful Dead-like instrumentation mimics this duplicity. But more than this, such revelations have found Koenig reflecting on his own identity -- as a musician, as a Jewish-American, as a member of the upper middle class -- and what he can do. In hearing the guitar figure constantly repeat, one becomes privy to its false sense of security: "I thought that I was free from all that questioning/But every time a problem ends, another one begins." The melody's smooth ascent and cascading descent is an unmistakable Dave Longstreth contribution, but this fact doesn't make "Harmony Hall" any less about Koenig's personal turmoil; it finds him stepping out to unearth concrete answers. [5]

Josh Love: Vampire Weekend are valedictorians of indie's last decade, having not made a significant misstep, cranking out the consistently tuneful and clever alt-pop that's made them a hip millennial's staple and a top-shelf critical darling. Unlike say MIA or LCD Soundsystem or Arcade Fire, they've never seemed like overreaching or underdelivering, all of their endeavors perfectly-coiffed. After a lengthy hiatus, not a hair's out of place and you can't point to anything being demonstrably wrong here. What's worrying though is that "Harmony Hall" accomplishes in five minutes no more than it could have managed in half that time. The first couple of verses and chorus are catchy, smart, and sufficiently dynamic, Koenig meditating on Jewishness and doing call-backs to the even more faith-informed "Finger Back" from the band's last album, over a piano lick that puts me in mind of Andrea True Connection's "More, More, More," or more more more specifically, the better song that nicked it, Len's "Steal My Sunshine." Too bad the last half of "Harmony Hall" is all diminishing returns; I kept waiting for something to make this elongated running time worthwhile but the back end offers nothing more than a baroque passage and a new piano flourish or two. Hopefully this song's not entirely a harbinger for the remainder of Father of the Bride; I'd hate for Vampire Weekend to have aged into being that former head of the class who's a self-satisfied bore at the reunion. [6]

Vikram Joseph: I've always associated Vampire Weekend with clear, sparkling late winter days; there's something about their sound that lends itself to that kind of light, and a wide-eyed optimism that suggests warmer days might not be far off. Fitting, then, that "Harmony Hall" should appear now; they've never sounded so crisp, so open or just so much like Paul Simon. The intricate Baroque guitar and flurries of electric piano are accoutrements which could render a song starchy and formal, but Vampire Weekend carry them off with effortless flair and a nonchalant grin. Ezra Koenig alludes deftly, though unambiguously, to politics; "Anger needs a voice/voices wanna sing/Singers harmonise 'til they can't hear anything" is a pretty eloquent description of the chaos of current discourse. Much like a young Stuart Murdoch sang with just the right combination of pathos and conspiratorial wit to pull off Belle & Sebastian's red-wine-stained stories of sexual misadventure and tentative affection, Koenig's voice has an intoxicating blend of empathy, lightness and desperation which in the past has allowed him to get away with a lot of highbrow wordplay, and which here makes the song's headline ("I don't wanna live like this, but I don't wanna die") feel like both a weary joke and a howl of personal, political despair that rings out through decades. Musically, though, "Harmony Hall" is a fleet-footed thing of joy, the balletic "ooooh"s in the post-chorus like arcs strung out across the country, a reminder that beauty exists even in dark times. [9]

Matias Taylor: Getting the words to dance as much as that nimble piano line is tricky, but six years on Vampire Weekend's lyrical and melodic gifts are as sharp as ever. [9]

Alfred Soto: As allusive as usual -- I hear George Michael, "Mrs. Robinson," their own "Finger Back" -- the latest from the sometime quartet, an-album-every-six-years men of leisure, affirms their faith in keeping them from the brink of the great surrender. "I thought I was free from all that questioning," Ezra Koenig yelps, a self-deception. He's smarter than that. Yet he clings to his arpeggios as a grandmother to a handrail. He knows music. It won't keep him safe. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#vampire weekend #music #new music #indie #indie music #music writing #music reviews

[raindrenchedstories]

Before the infection 9

The next day Pam found herself wrapping her leg tightly and tending both their injuries while they made breakfast. The fences were badly damaged in that attack. They didn’t even notice how much chaos had gone on around them while they fought with the tank. Some of the herd had panicked, breaking the fence.

The overly fat cow escaped. As well as two of her friends. It wasn’t a huge loss. Even a herd of three could support the women long term. They still had the bull. That was the most important thing.

They made doubly sure to bury and fluids left over from their fight, tossing their old clothing into a bag. They’d burn it soon enough. Slowly, the women left their farm. Pam sat in the back of the RV, confused.

They slid into town slowly. Both women checking out the windows for signs of trouble. At one point they passed a charger, or, what used to be a charger. The larger arm was ripped from it’s person. Pam almost wanted to examine it, answer certain questions as to how it’d been killed. They had no time, however.

The first stop was an old vets office. It wasn’t the greatest. Most people skipped to the other town for good veterinary service. These people were mostly dogs, cats, and the occasional goat. The door was broken open, the alarm long since dead.

Pam limped into the building. Supporting her weight heavily on her crutch. She hobbled into the back, finding that most of the medicine was ransacked. At least, the easily accessible stuff. Roxy followed after her, a crowbar in hand. She began banging at the pad lock. Causing Pam to roll her eyes.

She began searching the front desk. Finding the keys she’d need. Soon enough she had them in hand. She calmly unlocked the cage containing the many narcotics, and antibiotics. Roxy gave her a flat look. They weren’t great. But it wasn’t like they could knock over a hospital.

Pam checked over her shoulder as Roxy wandered off. Looking for something. They hadn’t seen any infected. So there was no real worry about being separated. Something clattered in the next room. Jarring Pam from her thoughts. She drew her knife, glancing back. “Rox!” She hissed.

When she got no reply, Pam began to worry. She dashed in the direction her friend disappeared to. It looked as though she was caught up in something important. The washrooms.... Why did they even bother planning anything if Roxy was just going to wander off like that. It left them both open to attack. The taller woman limped towards the source of the noise.

She peeked into the room, spotting what looked to be a small cat. The woman let off a sigh, glancing over her shoulder. It was just a cat. She could go check on it. Sheathing the knife. There was no need for it.

Pam pushed the door open, and hobbling into what she assumed was either surgery or recovery. Oddly enough the cages had been ripped open by something. The cat Pam had spotted jolted, then bolted out a large hole in the back wall. Leaving Pam to question what the hell made that hole in the first place.

Something shuffled to her left. Pam jolted and backed away. There was something big covered in a large sheet. She initially thought it was just some equipment. Until she heard it breathing. Pam glanced at the hole in the wall, then the sheet. Only one thing could do THAT. She backed away, slowly.

Sadly, she kicked whatever the cat had knocked over to start with. Glancing down she found it to be a steal tray for surgical equipment. Not like it mattered now, as the mass under the sheet stood. There was no mistaking it at this point.

Maybe if Pam just kept moving slowly, it wouldn’t see her. The sheet fell away, and Pam was face to face with it. “No. Fucking. Way. No way my luck is this shitty.” She hissed under her breath. Banging on the wall urgently. Hoping Roxy would hear it and do something.

Pam couldn’t run this time. Or fight. And as the tank eyed her down, she felt hope creep away slowly. A tranquil acceptance of her situation inched in. As the hulking brute slowly circled her.

She crept towards the door, praying she had time to flee, but understanding she didn’t. It reached forward slowly. She flinched, reaching for her knife and dropping her crutch. 

Bad idea. her leg gave out. Landing her on her aching ribs. She wheezed, before covering her face with her forearms. Eyes squeezed shut as she awaited a crushing blow.

It took some time. Finally Pam opened her arms and left herself a window to peek out from. The tank was sitting on it’s rump, turning her crutch this way and that. It stood and held the object the way she’d been using it. The wood creaked under it’s form, causing the tank to adjust his weight back to his knuckles.

He looked at Pam next. Causing her to scrambled further towards the door. She was dragged back towards it screaming. Despite the pain in her ribs. The tank held her upside down by her ankle. Pams pant leg fell back a bit, exposing the bandaging around it. Seeped through with old blood.

She was carelessly dropped. The tank turning away, disinterested. It squeezed through the hole it apparently had made earlier and trundled off in it’s own direction. Leaving Pam to lay awkwardly doubled over herself, highly confused, but alive.

Roxy burst through the door in time to see it’s back, and Canadian flag print underwear. “Pam?” She squeaked.

“Oh. So NOW you show up.” She’d never been so angry and scared as she did in that moment. Pam struggled to her feet and turned to face Roxy. “What were you thinking!? I can’t fucking defend myself. Not like....”

Roxy just stood there. Neither said a word. They eyed where the tank had wandered off towards. “Why didn’t it kill you?” Roxy’s voice sounded cold. Hollow. 

“I don’t know.” Pam hobbled towards the truck. There wasn’t much point in yelling. Particularly because it hurt do do so. But also because getting into a fight with the one person you relied on for survival was never a wise plan. It was best to let it lie and continue their scavenging.

They made their way to a looted store. Breaking into the cage behind the pharmacy with effort. Thankfully the infected were steering clear of this area. Of course that also meant there was something meaner around. But, given that most of the veterinary supplies they’d stolen was unfamiliar to Pam, or strong enough to knock a horse on it’s ass, they hadn’t much choice.

They mainly took antibiotics and pain meds. Something Pam was very hesitant to use. It was best not to stay in town too long however. As infected milled about in their corners. Pam clambered into the truck as it stuttered to a start. Roxy grimaced. Smacking the dash as they made their way slowly to the main road  through town. Not many beached cars so far. One or two left on the sides.

Pam sighed. Of course there wouldn’t be many. Folks would avoid the border like the plague... Actually because of a plague. She chuckled bitterly. “Hey Pam.” She was shaken from her thoughts as Roxy slowed the vehicle. Her voice was shaking.

They both crept carefully passed the very same tank from the vets office. He was sitting again. Pulling something with one hand. In the other was a flurry of motion. Both women watched carefully, as they circled the hulking brute. In his hands, protesting vehemently was a smoker.

The hand not restraining the lanky infected was pulling the tongue. Leaving a small pile on the ground. Before the maximum limit was finally reached. With a scream of rage, or possibly pain, the tongue snapped from it’s host. Leaving the infected disarmed. The tank examined this. Dropping the lost appendage and using its free hand to grip the smokers jaw.

It was about then Pam noticed they were sorely lacking in motion. “Rox....”

The other woman was transfixed by the  tanks actions. It shoved an over sized finger into the Smokers mouth. Earning it’s self a harsh bite. The tank roared in anger and slammed the other infected to the ground. “ROXY!”

They sped off. Leaving both the tank and the smoker behind. A quick check of the rear view mirror made it clear the smaller infected was scrambling to his feet while the Tank stared numbly at their vehicle. It turned back to it’s catch soon after. Much to the smokers dismay.

The two sat in  the cab of the truck for a long time. Cruising softly down the road. “So... That just happened.” Roxy’s knuckles were white on the wheel. Her eyes owlish and transfixed on the yellow between the stretching concrete.

“Yeah.” Pam fell silent. Staring out at the slowly passing trees. They weren’t far from home now. Thankfully. They were smack dab between two towns. One a bit smaller than the other. 

Their own home was officially classified as a ghost town. Given that most of the residents were old, and the properties were mostly abandoned as it was. To be honest, aside from the occasional zombie, there wasn’t much change. As they pulled into the small villa, Pam caught sight of something.

“Rox?” She sat up. Patting her friend shoulder. Just cresting over some heavily growing brush, was the back of a heifer. She seamed to be caught. Or struggling with something. But it was for sure one of the small number they’d lost.

“I’ll go get the trailer. You wait here!” Roxy scrambled to slow the vehicle. Pam jumped out with her gun slung over her shoulder. Sort of skipping her way over while the truck sped towards the farm. Most of the infected were either dead, or common. No real threats aside from that one hunter.

Crazed laughter rung through the air and Pam sighed. Okay that one hunter and a Jockey. Still. Nothing she couldn’t handle. The hunter stayed away from them mostly. And The screaming half pints were by no means threats. A screech ripped over the tranquil surroundings.

Fine. It was a bad luck day. Pam would just get this mother fucking cow and go home. She didn’t have to confront a damn thing. Lucky for her, this one was always one of the nice cows. Always first for attention.

The hunter and the jockey came bursting out of the bushes. Apparently rammed by something as there was a resounding yelp from the taller. The cow stuck her head out and pawed at the ground. Swinging her head. Just challenging the three to approach her.

The Jockey lept at her only to receive a small horn to the stomach. Throwing the small thing into the hunter. Who’d been wise enough to back the fuck off. Pam recognized this hunter. He was the transient that had made his way into town. She could only tell by the marking on his hoodie, but they were enough.

The jockey flailed and clawed. Soon enough it broke into a fight between the infected. Pam moved to get the hell out of the way while the smaller one scrambled atop the hunters shoulders. In turn the hooded menace pushed himself off from the ground, Flailing backwards and slamming the smaller as hard as he could into the dirt.

They seamed to ignore Pam, too caught up in their squabbling. Something the limping woman capitalized on. Making her way to the heifer. “Okay girl nice and-” She had to throw her crutch, dropping out of the way of the angry bovine.

It backed up and lined her up for another charge. The heifer was suddenly slammed in the shoulder by a writhing hunter. As it threw the jockey from it’s shoulders and head. Letting of a pained scream, it clutched it’s face. Being caught completely by surprise when the cow slung her head into him. He fled, crashing into objects at random. The jockey, seeing it too was outmatched, fled.

Leaving only Pam and a berserk bovine. The heifer charged her with intent to trample. Pam hastily sloughed her gun from her shoulders and braced it on the ground. Firing a sloppy shot that hit the heifer in the throat. She dropped. Choking. 

Pam rose slowly to her feet. Just as Roxy returned. “FUCK! What happened this time.”

“I don’t fucking know. She was such a sweet thing but....” Pam sighed. Grabbing her crutch. “Had to shoot her. Damn thing was going-”

A tiny noise had both women jerking to the right. Staring behind the bushes. Something was making an effort to move. Pam limped closer. As Roxy shoved the gun forward. Behind the brush, laying in a pool of afterbirth, was a small calf.

It’s head wobbly and it’s body shaking. “Oh.... Oh god.” Pam stood dumbfounded. “I didn’t. I couldn’t...The last animal to act like that-”

Rox placed her hand on her friends shoulder. Patting her gently. “I don’t blame you. It’s an easy mistake to make. Let’s just.... Let’s just keep going...I-I think we can take care of it. Maybe.”

Roxy managed to lift the newborn calf into the trailer. Pam sitting back with it and rubbing it down with hay. Trying to clean the little one off. Hopefully another of their herd was giving milk.

They pulled onto the farm slowly. Pam sighed. Struggling with the calf to get it on it’s feet and into the fields. Their temporary repairs to the fences were holding so far. She had no idea how to introduce a calf to a herd. Let alone feed it.

Roxy had mentioned getting milk from one of the cows. And swiftly dragged out a bucket. Leaving to round up the heifer and drag her in. Meanwhile Pam sat with the shivering calf. She remembered hearing something about a calf picking up a mother’s scent through milk.

So when the bucket was brought to her, Pam figured the calf would just drink it and smell like  the ‘mom’ soon enough. She staggered to her feet, placing the bucket in front of the calf. Roxy gave her a concerned look. “Here, maybe I can handle this while you put the medicine away.”

“Sure. Just... Hold it’s ear so it doesn’t drown.” Pam hobbled towards the house. Hearing a soft chuckle, then high pitched coaxing from Roxy. This was fine... Everything was fine.

And then Roxy started shrieking her name. Using her crutch as a sort of pole-vault, Pam lunged for the barn. Finding Roxy desperately trying to pull the calf’s head out of the bucket. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING ABOUT THE DROWNING THING!”

Pam wedged herself under the calf's chin and used her crutch to out muscle the surprisingly strong newborn. “WHY would I joke about that?!” Pam almost considered leaving Roxy with this situation alone. It would be perfect revenge after crossing that weird ass tank.

But no, Eventually they managed to create a make shift bottle with old waterline tubing, a funnel, and the bucket. Both women heaved heavy sighs. “We gotta get this bastard on a cow. Is it even worth it?”

“I don’t know. But... It kina’ feel wrong not ta’ try. Right?” They shared a glance at one another. “Besides. From what you say, the other cow will adopt it soon enough. Right?”

“Maybe. I don’t fucking know. My grandmother raised chickens. Not Cows. I just know this shit from hearsay.” Pam leaned on her hand. Her ribs ached. Her leg ached, She was stressed and strained. And the best she could do for herself was an antibiotic, and bandages.

She blinked at Roxy. Taking in the abundance of scratches and bite wounds on her arms and shoulders. Shaking her head, the woman stood. “Come on. Let’s... Let’s go eat something. Get our wounds cleaned again and.... Move from there.”

“Don’t you mean Moo-ve on from there?” Roxy grinned like a mad woman. Getting a flat glare from Pam. It was only polite to respond to such humor with such a response after all.

“You’re pun-bearable.”

#fanfiction #left4dead #Origional Character

[thesummerfox]

kastle prompt: after the explosion scene, frank takes karen back to his and micro’s hideout. possibly a shower scene (doesn’t have to be sexual) where frank is comforting karen because she took another life while looking out for frank as they were making their escape.

Thank you for this prompt! It’s the last one I managed to write pre-Punisher, haha, and one that I had a lot of fun with. I hope you like bonus!Micro in here, too, and that it is some of what you were looking for me to write.. hope you’ll enjoy!!

Karen Page crumbles on the passenger’s seat of the van and he almost drives them straight into the goddamn lamppost.

In hindsight, he’s not at all sure how he managed to get them from the inner city’s crowdedness to Micro’s more remote location without steering them both straight into a hospital’s care. He’s been looking over at her more than he’s been paying attention to the road. Keeps himself grounded by causing himself pain. Has wrapped his hands so tightly around the steering wheel that he thinks he's going to start bleeding from his palms any damn second now.

She's still breathing. He thinks he has checked her pulse more times than he can count, pressing his fingertips to her neck and wrist alternately as if one of her pulse points is lying to him. He doesn't trust his own judgment. Doesn't trust himself to make the right call, not when it's his shit-out-of-luck timing that got them into this mess in the first place.

He's never been more scared for her in his life and he thinks it shows when he drives the van straight into its garage a little too haphazardly.

“Don't you fucking start with me,” he snarls out at Micro the second he opens the door and stumbles out of the van. He steadies himself haphazardly against it. Wobbles on his feet for a moment. Fucking cut above his ear is a nuisance. He feels just a little bit on the side of queasy about it, somehow, even when he's had worse blows than this by far. “Had to get her safe. Get outta their crosshairs. And no,” he growls, “I was not followed back here.”

Micro fixes him with a look he has come to identify as 'not convinced, please try again later'. The man rakes his hair back tiredly and nods at Karen. “What's the deal with her?”

He doesn't answer immediately. Makes his way over to Karen's side of the van a little unsteadily. The floor blurs and sways before him a moment and he takes a deep, shuddering breath in response to that off-kilter motion. He hates getting hit in the head. Hates getting so fucking disoriented that he can't focus for a moment too long and has the worst happen on his watch as a result. Micro's sharp intake of breath when he coaxes Karen off the passenger’s seat makes his heart clench for a moment. That's on you, his brain thrills, that's all your fucking doing.

Frank Castle looks at Karen Page and wants to die.

“Shit, man, what happened?”

He knows Micro has now spotted the large bloodstains on her shirt. Has spotted the blood that coats her hands and fingernails. He winces as he realises that the red reaches all the way up to her elbows. Her hair is coated in it, matted and tangled with the chaos of his life, and he sees now that his attempt to clean her face properly has been in vain.

Karen Page is drenched in blood and it's all his fault. He doesn't want to tell the other man this, but thinks he may know anyway when the man's piercing gaze lands on him a moment as though searching for something deep within Frank. He huddles in on himself. Does not want to give Micro access. The man knows too much anyway. Makes it his business to know all the things that are best kept hidden and sequestered.

Yet, he can't hate the man. Can't hate him when he makes himself small enough to fit into Karen's space without appearing threatening. Can't hate him anywhere near as much as he hates himself. Micro reaches for her with too-gentle hands that speak of a lifetime of practice with upset children and a handful of a wife. Frank blinks rapidly in turn. Forces the salt water that comes to his eyes back down with a grimace.

“We're going to get you clean, all right?” he hears Micro state, so softly that the words drift in the quiet for a moment before settling down. “Get the blood off you. Then, you're going to get some tea and honey. Herbal stuff. Make you feel right with the world again, okay?”

He wants to tell the man it's not that simple, but Karen's head dips just a fraction and he swears his heart stops beating. It's the first sign of life she's given since he hauled her away from danger. Since he hauled her to her feet, since he took the knife from her, since he put her in harm's way and she reacted on pure instinct.

He's not sure what it says that her instinct is the exact mirror of his own, but he can't meet her unseeing gaze or the wispy breaths she exhales as a sign that she's still alive. He can't look at her. Not when he fears to see himself in her. Fears to find himself wanting.

“Right.” Micro sounds increasingly done with the situation. He hears it in the way the man clips his tone rather than drawing segments of his words out. “When you're done beating yourself up over something you can't change, you can take this woman by the hand and get her feeling like herself again. I'll be making tea.”

“Don't,” he says, before he can help it.

“Don't what?”

“Don't go and do that.” Shit, he's aware it sounds pathetic. Big bad Punisher needing a piece-of-shit hacker to stay with him because he doesn't think he can handle being alone with her again so soon. Can't help it. “You, uh, you made her react. Just now. You gotta just..”

He exhales, long and slow, and finds himself praying for the first time in a long time.

This time, he doesn't shake the man's hand off when it lands on his arm. It's the most physical contact they've had since their small brawl two nights ago. He's shaken off his annoyance at Micro for the most part. Micro seems to still be a live wire of fragmented rage and jumbled feelings, but his fingers on his arm are gentle and feel more understanding than Frank wants them to be.

“No,” Micro says then, and he's reminded of all the reasons why he can't stand the curly-haired hacker when the man does not stop there, “you gotta get your head out of your warzone. She's hurt. She needs your help.” The man shakes his head. “She doesn't need a total stranger like me. You got this, all right? Just.. put her in the shower. Get her clean. Get her dry. Get her a change of clothes.”

“That won't fix shit,” he says, because he should fucking know this. He's lived this.

“No, but it's the decent thing to do.”

Fuck, how he hates the man.

*

By the time they are in the bathroom, he's down to his last damn nerve and huffing out jittery breaths inbetween stealing glances at her. She's become a little more responsive, walking on her own without him having to guide her, but her eyes are still staring into space a little too much and her hands tap out a pace he understands like the trigger of a gun.

He almost tells her she should have brought the .380, but thinks he'd be some kind of asshole for saying it.

“Hey,” he says instead, opting for safety, “I'm just gonna, uh, wash the blood off you. Sink's fine, you don't gotta shower. It'll come off. Always does.”

He knows that's not the problem when she simply blinks at him and extends her bloodied hands in reply. The problem's in that head of hers, but she's somewhere he can't reach. Somewhere just out of his grasp. She's never been this far out of reach before. She's never been this fucking elusive.

He's scared for her.

“You did good back there,” he finally says. Maybe he wants her to react to something. Maybe he wants her to cry, to scream, to beat his ass into submission with half a word and twice the fury he's ever owned. “Ma'am.” He offers her the title with all the force he can put behind it. “You watched my six. Thank you.”

He needs her to know that, too. Needs her to know it mattered. That this death, this blood on her hands, that it means something. Carries weight. Carries weight that's not dragged down with guilt but raised up for forgiveness.

The washcloth brushes her hands and she blares to life with a sharp intake of breath before letting loose a wail he's certain is going to step into his nightmares from here on out. It pierces his skin, punctures his ears, rips at his flesh to hear her crumble in on herself. Her eyes are fixed on nothing and her hands tear nothing apart between them. Her breath comes out in shudders and screams and she muffles half of them behind her hands as though they're the dam that can stop her from bursting apart at the seams.

He drops to his knees before her, lays a hand on her knee, and waits for the inevitable. Waits for her to break.

“Why does nobody ever listen to me?” laments Micro's voice suddenly, behind him, and he snarls a “get out!” at the man before he can think twice about it.

Micro never fucking listens, either, but Frank's not stupid enough to point that out when the hacker draws himself up to his full height and stalks into the bathroom with all the take-charge aplomb of a man on a mission. “Help me get her up, man. She needs to be in the shower. Under the water. Cold, preferably.” Micro's voice drops several octaves when he gives orders, matter-of-fact and cutthroat intelligent all at once, and for one terrifying moment Frank knows exactly how deeply the man's involvement in the NSA may truly have been. Reassesses that thought entirely at the man's next words. “Sarah did it to me once when I was freaking out. Put me right. You gotta give her this, too.”

He mostly concedes because he's all out of options. Rises to his feet and brushes her hair out her face. Watches Micro's movements like a hawk, but the man seems content to simply fold his hand around Karen's and squeeze down on it gently. Micro stretches out and turns the shower on moments after just as Karen's voice shatters on half a sob. He thinks it still sounds better than the shattered scream that brought Micro back into the room in the first place.

“Okay,” he says, because he can do this, he's gotta, “let's get you up. Come on, Karen.” He tries to sound brave, for her. Tries to sound like his heart's not being ripped out of his chest when he looks at her. “I've got you, sweetheart, come on.”

He decides he likes Micro just a little bit more when the man simply lets Karen lean slightly on him before he is able to wrap her in his arms. Likes the man even further when there is no comment on the affectionate stream of words he bestows upon her as he steps her closer to the water. Her head's against his chest and she smells like gasoline and he's there, right there, burning with her at every soft noise that escapes her. Micro's hands are on her wrists, encircling and grounding her down into her body, and he thinks he detects pride in the man's eyes when her fingers finally respond to the touch.

She comes to life under the water, as Micro said she would.

It's so fucking cold that he actually has to take a deep breath before submerging himself into it with her. The water's ice to the touch, but it's nothing compared to how his heart freezes when she finally lets loose. She muffles her screams in his bloodstained shirt, claws at his skin as though she wishes to be let into the darkest parts of him, tears at his heart when she bursts into tears and all but collapses against him. He takes the pain. Deserves it.

“I dropped my guard,” he says, then, and he doesn't know if he's saying it to her or to Micro. Doesn't think it matters. He's just scum and he's gotta say it. “One of 'em clocked me. Gave me the cut on the head. I got dizzy. Didn't feel right.” He hates himself for being weak. Hates himself for letting this happen. “I was out of it a moment too long.”

Micro steps away from the water with every word that passes from his lips. He frowns as Karen sags in his arms, sobbing and hiccupping her anguish forth into every square inch of him, and shakes his head at Micro. Silently begs the man to please stay, because he can't deal with being the one a woman like her's gotta lean on.

“I'll leave you to it,” the man says, and Frank decides then and there he hates the hacker all over again. “My boots are fur-lined. They take forever to dry.”

He almost throws the shampoo bottle at Micro over that comment, but stills his hand when he hears a soft laugh escape between the hiccups of her jagged cry. Micro, damn him, just nods at him knowingly before retreating out of the room. (He hates it when the man's right.)

She's laughing between her tears now and she's never sounded more alive.

“Hey,” he murmurs into her hair, “it's okay. It's okay. I've got you, ma'am. You did good.” He feels stupid repeating it. Feels stupid saying it. “I'm sorry that it was necessary for you to do that.”

“Not my first,” she says, then, and the water may be cold and his skin may be ice but his insides blaze at the sound of her voice. He flares to life at it, even when her words knock the air straight back out of him again. She sounds small but decisive, soft cat's paws right before a steel trap that's all clamped jaw and vicious teeth, and he thinks this woman will be his end. “Just.. I never did it like this.”

She never buried herself in the dead the way he did. Never cut a man's throat like that, stabbed his guts like that, clawed her way into his veins with a dozen cuts and felt the breath leave his body. Not before tonight. Her hand had closed around the knife one of them had been stupid enough to drop. He went down to his knees from the blow, disoriented from the cut they gave him, and she rose to her feet at his back. He witnessed it all in a haze. Her snarl of fury, her immediate motion to kill rather than take prisoners, her tremble of breath before the calm that rolled her shoulders back and made her eyes spark to life like he'd never seen before.

She is beautiful and terrible all at once and he holds her close like he does the trigger of his gun.

He's sure she's going to haunt his dreams, but right now he simply settles for holding her close under the water. Sways gently back and forth with her, lets her crumble until her arms wrap around him and he's the one blinking back tears, and vows to keep her safe even as he starts to wash the blood out of her hair. She doesn't need anybody to be her keeper. That's not why he does what he does, checking her surreptitiously for injuries before scrubbing red off her skin bit by bit and layer by layer.

He's past telling her what to hold on to.

Thinks it may be okay, just for today, if she chooses to hold on to him.

#kastle #kastleff #prompts #towardstruth

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds S07E07 “There’s No Place Like Home”

Episode 07 – There’s No Place Like Home

Hey guys!

So, I am kind of excited about this episode, because the title is implying tornadoes, storms and chaos, oh my. And also some amazing references that I am hoping will crop up - fingers crossed ...

So without any further ado, my pretties.

Let’s see what unfolds and let’s prance down the yellow brick road towards murder.

“Finally got him down.”

“The Ibuprofen must have kicked in.”

“It’s about some missing kids.”

“Please don’t walk away like that.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know this is hard on you. On all of us.”

“Look, if I had someone to cover my shifts, I would.”

“What if it was Henry?”

“What if it was?”

“You’d want someone out there looking for him.”

“I wasn’t helping anyone there, Will.”

“Fine, I’ll tell them I can’t come in.”

“I was supposed to have time off.”

“Henry’s not feeling well.”

“You don’t have to be here.”

“Ah, I get antsy when I’m gone too long.”

“And thanks for the team’s donation to ALS in Carolyn’s name. She would have appreciated it.”

“So how are you doing?”

“I’m okay. It’s funny, though. We were divorced 20 years. And I never missed her as much as I do right now.”

“Hey, you. Welcome back.”

“Good to be back, Penelope.”

I love their friendship.

“We’re ready when you are, sir.”

“The bodies of two unidentified boys were found near Wichita, Kansas, a week apart.”

“Both were Caucasian  and between the ages of fifteen and seventeen.”

“They were each found mangled in the aftermath of a tornado.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what did them in. The ME has determined that the case of death was blunt force trauma to the head before the storms hit.”

“Well, the death blow in each case was in almost exactly the same spot.”

“Now, what about all the other damage to their bodies? Some of their limbs are missing.”

“Yeah, victim number one, his right leg was taken off. Victim number two, both arms were severed. But was that because of the tornado or the unsub?”

“The ME still hasn’t discovered that. He’s a busy guy. Major storms have hit the area. 23 dead. The morgue is slammed.”

“It fits the unsub. He’s got a hell of a sadistic streak.”

“Well, a tornado would clear the air and give the unsub the privacy to do his thing.”

“He may be using the storm as the body disposition modality. Forensic countermeasure, wind, hail, rain, mother nature destroys the crime scene.”

“Or he wants us to think mother nature actually committed the murders.”

“What concerns me is the brief periods between kills.”

“Only a week. He’s moving fast.”

“We need to move faster. Garcia, get me IDs on all the victims.”

“I’m a gale-force wind.”

“Wheels up in thirty.”

“Oh, and pack for foul weather.”

“The forecast is nasty.”

George Gissing: “For the man sound of body and serene of mind, there is no such thing as bad weather. Every day has its beauty. And storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously.”

“Right in the middle of tornado alley.”

“If this unsub is using tornadoes as a forensic countermeasure, then Kansas certainly is the ideal setting.”

“Tornadoes do pose a significant threat.”

“During this year’s super outbreak back in April, there are 336 confirmed tornadoes in just several days, resulting in over 300 lives lost.”

Ding dong

“Hey. Tell us something good, mama.”

“Okay, I’ve IDed your victims. I’m putting this all on your tablets if you’d like to follow along.”

“First up is Jason Meredith, 16-year-old runaway from Garden City, Kansas. Mom said he took off over a year ago.”

“Next up is Eric Janelle, 15-year-old kid form Wichita. He’s been gone three weeks.”

“Oh, both of these kids have records for possession and prostitution.”

“They were street hustlers.”

“At-risk teens. This could be a sexual predator.”

“An extremely violent one if the unsub is responsible for the damage done to the bodies, especially those missing limbs.”

“Well, now, he could be keeping the body parts for some sort of fetish.”

“Oh, okay, eew. That is my cue.”

“I’m here if you need me with my binary machines that don’t say gross things.”

She’s so cute!

Is he praying? Oh Rossi.

“I didn’t know you were a bad flyer.”

“I’m not. I just hate turbulence.”

“You know, turbulence very rarely causes planes to crash.”

“That does me absolutely no good at the moment.”

“Thank you.”

“What we really need to worry about are microbursts, sudden downbursts of air associated with thunderstorms.”

Someone needs to shield my poodle from this angry stallion.

“But a small craft like this, if we hit one of those at the wrong attitude

– 

pulverized.”

Oh Reid.

“I beg of you to make him stop.”

JJ already has Will and Henry to deal with, why add poodle to her list of worries?

“Well, the unsub definitely has his own mode of transportation. This is way up the beaten path.”

“And the first victim, Jason Meredith, was found over thirty miles away.”

“You say you were able to clear this place before the storm hit?”

“I didn’t know you could do that for tornadoes.”

“Okay, so the unsub either found a way in or he was already here and he hid during the evacuation.”

“That, or the body got sucked up into the funnel cloud and was thrown there from someplace else.”

“Either way, he came into close contact with this storm. Maybe even close enough to put himself in danger.”

“Or he waited someplace safe for it to pass and came back and dumped the body.”

“No, I think the storm itself actually means something to this guy.”

“You don’t think he’s just using it to cover his tracks?”

“I played ball in college with a guy from Indiana. He said he and his boys used to get drunk and then chase storms. Said it was the closest they could get to the true power of God.”

“Okay, so he’s impulsive, probably young, maybe a loner with nothing to lose.”

“We should be looking at actual storm-chasers.”

“Where can we find them?”

“They mostly work with the university.”

Well, crap. 

“You think this guy’s educated.”

“Well, he knows enough about the weather to use it to his advantage.”

“So far it’s working.”

“Here you go.”

“When was the last time you saw Jason?”

“Do you know why he would leave home?”

“And how did Jason cope with that?”

“So it sounds like you and Eric were pretty good friends.”

“Your foster mom said that you used to get in a lot of fights before Eric got there.”

“So he looks out for you.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“We found him a couple of days ago.”

“He took the news about Eric pretty well.”

“Tough kid.”

“I guess they have to be. They’re all alone.”

“Each of the victims had a strong protective instinct and was looking out for somebody else besides themselves.”

“Maybe the unsub is keying on that.”

“Boys like that are hard to fool.”

“What if he used to be one of them?”

“I mean, those kids would see right through someone trying to be a poseur.”

“If his MO is connected to the weather, he’s gonna try to grab another boy soon.”

“Identical blows to the head.”

“They had alcohol and dextromethorphan in their systems?”

“It’s cough syrup.”

“It’s a cheap high, if you can steal it.”

“And these two had a whole lot of it on board.”

“What were you able to from all the damage to the bodies?”

“Mostly?”

“I’m guessing with an axe or a cleaver.”

“Cut off postmortem.”

“They both have ligature marks on their wrists and ankles, at least what they have left of them.”

“He held them before the kill.”

“Was there any sign of sexual assault?”

Nope. Even if there were, the tornado probably cleaned it up real good.

“So, he guts them drunk and high, he restrains them, kills them, and cleaves off a limb as a souvenir.”

“Then he dumps the body and lets the storm clean up his mess.”

“But why the souvenir?”

“What or who, exactly, is he trying to remember?”

“Okay, time to go.”

And get out of that creepy morgue with the sandwich-eating ME who handles dead people and eatsd in the same room .... gross.

“Name’s Gary Dyson. Sixteen. Runaway from Kansas City.”

“This particular area get hit with a tornado last night?”

“The weather’s gotta be the trigger.”

“He’s following the patterns.”

“We track the storms, we find the unsub.”

“Forensic evidence has been washed away. But behaviorally, it’s the most intact crime scene we’ve encountered so far.”

“It’s the same blow to the head, but no cuts, no abrasions.’

“Except he’s missing his torso.”

“It was only a matter of time before he missed one.”

“Tornadoes are extremely unpredictable and sometimes last only a matter of minutes before they dissipate.”

“The fact that he was able to leave his previous victims directly in the path of one is astounding.”

“So the conditions were perfect last night, but his tornado never came.”

“It’s only been four days.”

“He’s accelerating.”

“And the weather’s driving him to do it.”

“Guys, we know that fetishists are loyal to the body parts they take, but I think that this unsub is loyal to the whole of these parts.”

“If you were to take the missing pieces from all the victims so far, you could almost assemble an entire body.”

“So he’s not taking bodies apart, he’s putting one together.”

Yup.

“We’re looking for a white male in his mid- to late-20s. He’s mobile and he travels great distances to follow storms.”

“He’s probably in a tuck or a van.”

“We believe he may live in that vehicle. It’s probably beat up, maybe rusted from the elements.”

“Sorry.”

“Jeffrey Dahmer, serial killer, was under the illusion that he could create young male sex zombies that wouldn’t resist his advances.”

“And when Dahmer’s test subjects died, he kept their body parts souvenirs.”

“Skulls, hearts, even genitalia.”

“Restoring body parts is no small task. They’re gonna get ripe fast.”

“He needs lots of ice, salt, maybe, something to preserve them.”

“And he’s paying for all that stuff somehow. Gas, too.”

Uh-oh.

“He doesn’t have the social skills to hold a job for long, so he’s most likely a day laborer, handyman, anything transitory.”

“We think he’s using the weather as a forensic countermeasure to destroy evidence, but we also think he might be some sort of symphoraphiliac.”

“Sorry, symphora what?”

I’m with that cop.

“Uh, excuse me.”

“Symphoraphiliacs – they’re sexually aroused by disasters.”

“Usually fires or traffic accidents. In this case, the weather must enhance his excitement.”

“He hunts street kids, so he may be from a similar background.”

“And he’s most likely uneducated, but he’s still charming enough to engage his victims.”

“We’ll talk to the press.”

“You should warn any transient kids you might know.”

“As this weather gets worse, so will the unsub.”

“Since when is a seizure fine?”

“But his fever broke.”

“Did you give his medicine this morning?”

“Did he feel warm?”

“Well, you checked, right?”

“Nothing. I … where is he now?”

“Okay. I’ll call you when my flight arrives.”

“Henry’s sick. I’m coming home.”

“Call you later?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh, it’s Henry. He had a whole seizure.”

“Will took him to the ER. He … he’s fine.”

“Apparently, it’s totally normal.”

“Look, I gotta get back home.”

“Of course.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Can I borrow the jet?”

“I think the budget oversight committee might not appreciate my generosity.

“Yeah, well, worth a shot, right?”

“Check in and let us know everything’s all right.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Hey, Hotch.”

“I’ve been thinking … the vast majority of unsub with this type of MO aren’t driven by the killing.”

“They’re really fascinated by the body parts.”

“Psychologically they exist in a realm where fantasy meets delusion. It’s basically the perfect blueprint for the creation of a serial killer …”

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Should probably get to the point.”

“I think I know how this unsub may have gotten started.”

“All right, the first victim was found missing his right leg, the second, both arms, and the third had no torso.”

“So that leaves the left leg unaccounted for.”

“We can assume the head would be the most difficult piece to find.”

“That part would have to fit an unsub’s fantasy perfectly.”

“So he’d most likely save it for last.”

“Now, what that tells us is there’s a victim out there we haven’t found yet who’s missing his left leg.”

“Or the unsub hasn’t acquired it yet.”

“True, but most body part collectors evolve to this level, and in many cases they  exhume bodies for parts before they start killing.”

“All right, let me call Garcia.”

“So you think our unsub did the same thing.”

Was my poodle’s lecture unclear?

“PG at your service, don’t let the name fool you.”

“Baby girl, you’re on speaker.”

“Garcia, can you look for grave robberies in tornado alley over the last five years?”

“Okey-dokey.”

“Searching.”

“Oh. That’s a shockingly big list.”

“Who knew grave-robbing was so on trend?”

“How many of those involve the bodies of teenage boys?”

“Uh …”

“None.”

“What about morgues and funeral homes?”

“Momentito …”

“Again, that is a list that should not be that big.”

“Mostly stolen embalming fluid, though.”

“It’s often used like PCP, Garcia.”

“I’m feeling optimistic about the youth of America.”

“There are no teenagers involved in this either.”

“All right, try looking for thefts involving body parts, specifically left legs.”

“Okay, ew! See, this is why I can’t talk about how my day was at dinner.”

“Breakfast, lunch.”

“Spencer, you scare me.”

“Join the club.”

Ha.

Hey!

“A left leg was stolen off a body a year ago at the Riggio Funeral Home in Tulsa.”

“They never found who did it.”

“Garcia, what was the weather like in the area at the time?”

“Uh, thunderstorms and tornadoes.”

Yup.

“An F2 cyclone hit right around there, and then the robbery took place after they evacuated.”

“It’s gotta be our unsub.”

“Wait, there’s more.”

“The guy whose leg was stolen, he was a 47-year-old father of two who died of leukemia.”

“That’s a huge jump.”

“Preferential child sex offenders don’t usually stray from their preferred age range.”

“It’s not about the sex at all.”

“He used the body from the funeral home to develop his MO so he could live out his fantasy and kill in a storm.”

“Whatever it is, this unsub won’t stop until he finds a perfect head.”

“That’s the final piece to his puzzle.”

“Hey. Thought you were out of here.”

“Flights are canceled ‘cause of the weather.”

“How’s Henry?”

“He’s headed home. Finally released him.”

Finally.

“That’s great news.”

“Where are you guys off to?”

“To the university to talk to some storm chasers.”

“Stay dry.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Who’s that with Hotch?”

“There’s been another abduction.”

“A boy named Shaun Rutledge. That’s his younger brother Billy.”

“He says a young white guy with an RV attacked him with a crowbar in the rain.”

“He’s also changed his victim selection criteria.”

“The boy he grabbed gets straight As, plays football, even volunteers at his church.”

“So he wanted him so badly, he was willing to leave a witness?”

“Which suggests he’s losing touch with reality and his delusions are starting to take over.”

“What is it about this kid that was so attractive to him?”

“He was teenage and Caucasian like the others, right?”

“We also think that a sexual element may actually not be at play.”

So then what the hell is driving this guy?”

“Maybe it’s love.”

“What if he’s trying to recreate someone he loves?”

“It is an emotion that drives us to extremes.”

“If he’s trying to recreate someone, it’s probably somebody he loved and lost.”

“Wait. You said he was with his big brother, right?”

“Holla at your girl.”

“Baby girl, I need those great big beautiful brains of yours.”

“Jazz hands ready. Gimme.”

“Okay, look at all the teenage male victims or tornadoes in the last ten years. Same geography as before.”

“That would be male, 13 to 18 … 42.”

“How many victims had younger brothers that survived/”

“Uh … ten.”

“The unsub might have been a high-risk kid.”

No shit.

“Garcia, how many of the survivors have criminal records?”

“I got two for you.”

“First up is 27-year-old Justin  Harris, had a DUI in 2008. Next is 22-year-old Travis James.”

“Ooh, little troublemaker. Shoplifting, possession, and prostitution. Oh, my.”

“And all when he was a minor.”

“You got a home address or a vehicle registered in his name?”

“Uh-uh. None.”

“You got a photo on this guy?”

“It’s on your tablet right now.”

“All right, this is a composite sketch from the description the kid gave.”

“Old school.”

Huh? What’s going on?

“Oh, my God. This poor kid.”

“In 2001, Travis James lost his big brother Tucker and his mom Jan when a tornado hit the McCleary Trailer Park in Enid, Oklahoma.”

“So our guy’s a local.”

Oops.

“Oh, that’s great.”

“Hang on, Garcia. The power just went out.”

“Garcia, I think we’re good. Keep going.”

“Sometime before this evil tornado touched down, Travis, along with five other boys, testified against a one Roscoe Gulch.”

“For what?”

“It appears that this Gulch character was a notorious pedophile in the area, and he was a resident of the same trailer park as Travis and his family.”

“It looks like brother Tucker had confronted this Gulch person lots of times. He even broke the creep’s nose once.”

“He was protecting his little brother.”

Cutie.

“Oh. And then the plot thickens. According to a statement from Travis, right after Gulch was acquitted, he and his brother went to Gulch’s mobile home.”

“Travis said he saw the mobile home get swallowed up by the tornado. And when he came out there was nothing left.”

“He was found in pieces. It took his DNA and dental records to ID him.”

“Travis went into foster care and he was reported missing in 2003. He ran away.”

“Ten years ago his brother got ripped apart, and now he’s trying to put him back together?”

Frankenstein, anyone?

This reminds me of something.

“But why start killing now?”

Good question.

“Garcia, send me current weather reports for the area, including radar images if you have them.”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

“It is on your tablets.”

“With the weather in the area, he’s going to be so excited, he won’t wait.”

“He’ll take the boy to the closest area with the most activity.”

“That’s right around here, just southeast of us.”

“It’s Frankenstein.”

“What?”

“The unsub isn’t trying to put his brother back together, he’s trying to bring him back from the dead.”

“He believes that tornadoes have the power to take life, so conversely, they should have the power to restore it.”

“We’ll pick up Rossi and Prentiss on the way. Let’s go.”

“Garcia, what have you got?”

“Sir, I found your trigger.”

“A year ago, a tornado ripped through a cemetery near Tulsa. One of the 53 graves that was disturbed was that of Tucker James.”

“His brother was killed by a storm, then his memorial was destroyed by one.”

“Now he’s using both to build a memorial of his own.”

“Now that he has that boy’s head, the delusion will completely to take over.”

“Garcia, those storm chasers at the university we talked to, they should be out in full force.”

“I’m sending you their number now. Tell them to be on the lookout for the unsub’s RV.”

“And, Garcia, patch into their radio chatter.”

“They’ll know where the storms are.”

“On it, my pretties.”

“We need to head into those areas with the most precipitation.”

“So make a right at the next intersection.”

“It should be Pawnee Road.”

“Hey, how exactly are we supposed to chase this storm?”

“The unsub won’t actually chase the storm.”

“To get close to it, you have to get in front of it.”

“It’s a little like playing chicken.”

It’s official, I iam un-American ... I have no idea what playing chicken is ... is that like when a kid is being stupid an drunning after something that might hurt it andx then running away? Oh, I get it, cuz chickens are stupid ... oh my god ,I cannot believe I had to actually think about this.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“It’s frozen.”

“Hey, Hotch. We just lost the internet.”

Worst thing to ever happen.

“I’m frozen up, too.”

“The weather must be affecting the upload.”

“I’m patching Garcia in.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Garcia, we just lost our internet and we need you to guide us into the storm.”

“Consider me your eyes and ears, sir.”

“Okay, guys, a twister has been spotted near Rose Hill just south of your position. The storm-chaser dudes are calling it a landspout.”

“We don’t want that one. Landspout tornadoes are relatively insignificant.”

“Where to, then?”

“Garcia, look for hook echoes on your monitor.’

“Hey, hook echoes.”

“Yeah. Okay, I’m gonna do that.”

“Just tell me what they are.”

“They’re swirling hook-like radar signatures that look surprisingly like what you’d expect them to.”

“Okay. Uh …”

“No, I don’t see anything like that.”

“They’ll likely form in those red and violet areas on the map.”

“I don’t see anything that looks even remotely like that.”

“Okay, they shouldn’t be too far from our current positions. He’s close.”

“Oh, God.”

“No, wait ...”

“Wait, yes!”

“Yes, I see it.”

“Oh, that’s gotta be it. Yes, ye…”

She’s just the cutest thing ever!

“Where, Garcia?”

“Oh, no, no.’

That’s never good.

“What? What is it?”

“There are two.”

“We’ll have to split up.”

“Which way, Garcia?”

“Uh, okay. Half of you can stay in your current heading.”

“The other half, make a … right on Meadowlark Road.”

“Morgan, take Meadowlark Road. We’ll keep going.”

“Got it.”

“Hey, I just got a hit from the storm-chaser dudes on the RV. You guys are the closest.”

GPS - Garcia Positioning System ... sorry .. I just couldn’t help myself.

“Where are we talking, Garcia?”

“Heading east on Summer Road just north of your position, make a left on Prairie Creek.”

“It’s the next left.”

“You got it.”

“Hang on, guys.”

Uh oh, reckless Derek driving!

“What’s that up there? Near the old house.”

Whoops, poodle spotted something with his little eye.

“Travis James, FBI!”

“Put the weapon down!”

“We can’t do that, Travis.”

“Just let Shaun go and we can work this out.”

“That’s his name, you know.”

“He has a little brother, too.”

“We know you saw them when you attacked them.”

“Travis, Tucker would not want this. He would want to protect you like he did with Roscoe Gulch. Just let him go and we can help you.”

“I’m telling you, we need to cover now!”

Yeah, no kidding, dude!

“Come on, man, put the weapon down!”

“Put it down!”

.... The fuck did we just witness?

Did that twister just sweep a dude? FUCK!

At least they saved the kid.

Here’s how my honeys deal with a Gale-force twister:

Arthur Golden: “Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.”

Aww, momma bear is callin ghome, I love JJ so much.

“So the weather’s supposed to break tomorrow. I should be home sometimes in the afternoon.”

“I’ll call and let you know for sure.”

“Yeah. Sort of. It’s kind of weird.”

“I’m … I’m fine. It’s just … been a really long day.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry about everything.”

“So, uh, is he still up?”

I love this kid!

“Hi! Hi, little man.”

“How … how are you?”

“I heard you, um, you went to the doctor.”

“Not yet, buddy. Tomorrow. I promise.”

“So, are you ready for story time?”

“Yeah? Okay.”

“Daddy, you ready?”

Daddy is ready.

“Bedtime for Baby Star.”

“Once there was a Baby Star, he lived up near the sun. and every night at bedtime, that Baby Star wanted to have some fun. He would shine and shine and fall and twinkle, oh, so bright, and he said, ‘Mommy, I’ll run away if you make me say good night’. And then his mommy kissed him on his sparkly nose and said, ‘No matter where you go, no matter where you are, no matter how big you grow, and even if you stray far … I’ll love you forever, ‘cause you’ll always be my Baby Star’.”

“Good night.”

This is the cutest kid in the world! (Aside from Jack Hotchner)

So this episode was all over the place - I was fearful for Henry’s health, for my pretties handling that weirdo in the tornado - that dude getting torn apart by that twister! Oh my! Also, the many - many - references from Garcia just made my day and the reference to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was pretty cool ... and lest we not forget that all the parents awards go to JJ and Will ... they really should tie the knot, they’re so cute together!

As ever, thank you ever so much for keeping up with my inconsistency in publishing these posts ... I’m just trying to get my shit together with these and I’m seriously lagging behind because my work (currently a call center representative taking messages for over 5,000 different companies) is demanding and toll-taking and sometimes I’m just not in the mood to review my facve show ... BLASPHEMY!

So I’mt rying to get back on track.

LOVE YOU GUYS

#criminal minds reviews #criminal minds #reviews #aaron hotchner #hotch #thomas gibson #derek morgan #shemar moore #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #jennifer jareau #jj #aj cook #penelope garcia #kirsten vangsness #emily prentiss #paget brewster #david rossi #joe mantegna #poodle #puppy #baby boy #god of chocolate thunder #s07e07 #there's no place like home #george gissing #arthur golden

[prettylittlesmartass]

How The AD Reveal Should Have Gone (Alex's Backstory)

When Alex left her adopted home, she begged/borrowed/stealed/etc enough money to get to the states in order to find her real parents. During this time, she met Wren, and he became infatuated with her. This was 2 years before Ali disappeared. 

Alex, at first, thought Jessica was Mary. She visited the DiLaurentis household and explained who she was and the horrible life she had endured. Jessica played the part of Mary, internally freaking out about the amount of chaos Alex’s reveal would undoubtedly cause.  She put Alex up in a hotel room while she asked her to be patient as she got up the nerve to explain to her family about Alex’s existence.   At this point, Alex was not aware that she was a twin, let alone that her twin lived next door to her “Mom”. Jessica immediately went to Peter, and the two of them devised a plan. Jessica would use her authority on the board at Radley to commit Alex as someone with multiple personality.  Peter, being genetically related, signed Alex in as “Bethany Young”.  They used Alex’s true back story (one which Alex originally had no problem agreeing to) as proof that she had a mental break, complete with accent.   Once Alex/Bethany was in Radley, Jessica kept tabs on her, and after the mind numbing drugs kicked in, would occasionally take Alex/Bethany on outtings. This is when she would insist Alex call her “Aunt Jessica”.  This was also why Jessica had told Ali you can “never turn your back on a Hastings”, because she was well aware that she could never share her knowledge of Alex’s existence, and if Ali had ever seen Alex, she would think she was Spencer.

There were a few times that Alex/Bethany was able to escape.  

(photo credit to PLL Theories)

The first time was Ian’s Halloween party.  While there, she overheard Noel talk about his and Ali’s plan to scare the girls.  At this point, she hadn’t yet seen Spencer.  Alex had fuly intended to severely hurt/kill Ali in that abandoned house, though Ali was stronger that she thought.  Once the girls were freed from the locked room, Alex finally saw Spencer and she seethed with rage. She realized the true reason behind Jessica betraying her, and instead of leaving town, as she had originally planned, she opted to go back to Radley and devise a new plan. Before she did, she befriended Ian, who was a member of the NAT club.  At that point, she both flirted with Ian, as well as paid him with money provided by Wren, and convinced him to film Alison and her friends. He didn’t understand why “Spencer” wanted to be filmed, though Alex incorporated it as part of her flirting, telling Ian she wanted to see how Ian saw her in his eyes.   Alex’s first priority, however, was still hurting Ali.  Alex/Bethany would never forgive Jessica for having her wrongly commited.  She starts writing to Ali, although when Ali visits Radley to see her, Alex has her roommate(Kimberly Brown) pretend to be “Bethany”.  Ali, being the mean girl she was at the time, enjoys playing with her new toy.  

When Ali begins to get “A” messages (from Mona), she begins to wonder if it isn’t Bethany sending them.  She antagonizes Alex/Bethany through letters and “visits”, making things even worse than the already are.  At the same time, Ali isn’t completely certain that “Bethany” is behind the threats, so after receiving the lipstick note on the mirror, she devies a plan to either expose Bethany or have her take her place.   Ali drops of an exact duplicate of her outfit at Radley, with a note for Bethany to escape and come meet her so they can finally work things out.  Ali figures she and Bethany can either hash things out for good, or that if someone is trying to kill her, having Bethany run around dressed as she is hedges her bets a little bit in case it is someone else threatening her.  

At this point, Alison believes that the other Liars are innocent, and not the ones leaving messages.  That said, she can not have them in her way for all that is about to go down that night.  So, she drugs them. Meanwhile, Jessica receives a phone call that Alex/Bethany has escaped.  She freaks out, and forbids Alison from leaving the house at all.  

Spencer and Ali argue.  Ali walks back towards her house and Spencer walks towards the woods/house.  Melissa hears heard the argument between Ali and Spencer, as do the girls (Aria, Hanna, and Emily), in a drug induced haze. The girls arrive in the bushes in time to see someone dressed like Ali, hit Alison. Mrs. D also sees Alex hit Ali from the window.  Mrs. D rushes from the house as Alex runs away.  The girls, again drugged, begin to chase Ali’s assailant.    Mrs. D, believing Ali dead, buries her.  Mrs. Grunwald pulls Ali from the grave. The girls, chasing Alex through the woods, finally lap back around to the gazebo area and attack Alex.  As they begin to attack her, they start to hallucinate that it is Alison, and finally stop.  They leave Alex’s lifelss body in the gazebo area, and Melissa stumbles across it.  Seeing only the clothes and hair, Melissa thinks Spencer killed Ali, and buries her to hide the evidence.

At this point, Alex’s roommate, Kimberly Brown, who had escaped from Radley with Alex, leaves their meeting spot and comes looking for Alex to figure out what is taking so long.  She sees Melissa burying Alex, and as soon as Melissa leaves, she digs out the grave and saves Alex.

As it turns out, this was the worst mistake Kimberly could have made.  Alex, now set on burning down everything to do with Spencer, and the other liars, kills Kimberly Brown on the spot, switches clothes with her, and buries Kimberly in the grave.  That way, when her body is found, no one will expect she is alive and able to exact revenge.   At this point, Alex still believes she has killed Alison.

Mona sees Ali walking along the road, sends her out of town.  Ali knows for sure that someone is out to kill her, and that her Mom buried her without hesitation.  There is no reason to stay.

Alex then spends the next year devising a plan to get revenge on the liars for trying to kill her.  She enlists Wren to start dating Melissa, to get his way into the Hastings trust, and to learn more about Spencer.  As it turns out, Wren starts falling for Spencer, which only makes Alex hate Spencer more.

She starts communicating (electronically) with Mona, Lucas, and Jenna, who she learned from the NAT tapes had hated Ali as much as she did, as was also picked on by the liars.   When Aria returns to Rosewood, Alex gently nudges Mona to start sending A messages to the girls again.  She tells Mona that she will be an outcast agin, now that the Liars will be together again. In essence, she sets Mona free on the girls to torture them, knowing at some point she will escalate the game to her own level. 

When she notices the DiLaurentis house is sold, and that workers start to dig around the gazebo area, she knows she will need to get ahold of that body to switch around medical records.  “Bethany Young” has to remain dead, or Jessica and/or Peter might start searching for her.   She pays off some cops and people in the morgue and is able to alter paperwork, and steal the body.  

She noticed Jessica and Charlotte together, and eventually figures out how Charlotte fits in to the story.   When she first approahces Charlotte, Charlotte does not believe her.  She thinks it is Spencer trying to figure out where Ali is, if Ali is alive, and that she still wants to find her and hurt her.  Once Alex gains Charlotte’s trust, and Charlotte realizes how awful Ali was to Alex, Charlotte becomes a double agent, though doesn’t immediately tell Alex that Ali is still alive.  (Alex is still wondering what happened to Ali’s body)

Alex tries to burn the girls to death in the lodge fire, and that is the night she realizes Ali is still alive.  However Ali goes immediately back into hiding.  Alex then spends Season 4 trying to find Ali, and using the Liars to do so.   It is Alex that kills Mrs. D, and Mary takes the fall for her (as she did for Spencer with Eliot)  Once Alex heard thought Mona (via Shana) that the girls found Ali, Alex knew that Mrs. D that had to die, because Alex couldn’t have Mrs. D spilling the secret that Spencer had a twin.  

Alex has also realized that Charlotte had been lying to her about Ali, and that is why Charlotte agrees to “take the fall” as Big A- to protect Alex.  Season 5 up to Charlotte’s reveal is about laying the groundwork to have Charlotte take the fall with everything wrong done towards the girls.  At this point, Alex is mostly done with revenge, and just wants to live her life out with Wren, Mary, and eventually Charlotte (once she is released). Then Charlotte is killed, and Alex is denied her family.  She thinks one of the Liars did it, though doesn’t know which one.  She enlists the help of Mary, Eliot (Charlotte’s true love), and Wren to help figure out who killed Charlotte.   Then... Alex starts to fall for Toby.  While Alex had never really been jeaous of Spencer’s life before (I mean, who would with Peter as a father?), she did start to covet Toby.  There were two problems here- Yvonne and Wren.  Alex believed she could deal with Wren, though Yvonne would have to go.  Therefore, she set up the car accident, and while Toby was knocked out (and before help arrived) further injured Yvonne so that her injuries were mortal.

Next, she had to convince Wren that she would kill Spencer, and take over her life, allowing her to be with Toby.  This met with more resistance than she expected, and she eventually killed Wren, worried that he would tip Spencer off.   Alex knows she is playing the long game with this, and uses Aria and Ezra’s wedding (with Toby’s return) as her in to fully take over as Spencer and work toward getting Toby back.  As for Mary, it could go either way as to whether she knew Alex’s ultimate plan to take over as Spencer until the very end.  I am going to say that until Spencer was kidnapped, Mary did not know, and by then, it was too late.

#pll #pretty little liars #pll finale #how it should have gone #pll alternate ending #prettylittlesmartass

[sammygiddings]

Double Trouble

Requested by @tstraley 

AU: Beth and Hannah switch places for a day and chaos ensues

“It’s easy,” Beth said with a wide, wide grin on her face. “I’ll wear a hat to hide my bangs, and you just wear that white one I always wear!” Hannah sighed, looking at the ratty thing in her arms. Beth loved her hats a little too much if you asked Hannah.

The story was still believable though. Other than the bangs their hair was the same, and it wasn’t as if Hannah was “anti-hats” so no one would question her wearing a cute one.

Hannah isn’t completely sure why Beth wanted to play this game again. They used to do it when they were little, but they were fifteen now, far too old to be pretending to be each other. Thought, a part of Hannah was excited about it. She always wanted to act, but her stage fright kept her from it. Playing Beth? well she was just pretending to be the second half of her soul. It was a walk in the park.

What really sold her though was what Beth was planing on doing that day. “You get to go to Matt’s football game with Mike and Josh and get dinner with them afterwards!” Hannah’s heart raced. Dinner with Mike? well that was a offer too good to refuse even if her asshole brother was crashing.

“What?” Hannah asked, “you don’t wanna go?” Beth shrugged and did that thing with her eye’s she always did when she was hiding something.

“Pfft,” Beth said, “me going to the game? No way. It’s so boring and the guys always play nose go’s for the bill.”

“Don’t you love doing that tho-”

“Well I’m not in the mood for today!” Beth snapped. “I’m just tired and could use some R and R.” Hannah’s face broke out into a wide grin. She’d have to wear Beth’s clothes, but not everything she had was completely horrible. She did have the nice sweater, but then she might be a little - then her smile faded as she remembered.

“I can’t,” Hannah said, “Sam’s coming over for a sleepover later.” she tried to hand Beth back her favorite hat but Beth just shrugged.

“It’s fine,” Beth said. “Like i said, I pretend to be you, you pretend to be me!”

“But I don’t want to lie to Sam...”

“It’s not lying,” Beth insisted, “were just playing a prank on her.”

“Sam hates pranks,” Hannah said, and Beth let out a frustrated sigh.

“It’ll be fine,” Beth said. “If anything she’ll be embarrassed cause she couldn’t even tell the difference between us. Trust me, it’ll be awesome!”

Hannah kept her mouth shut the whole ride up. Josh was going on and on about some girl he met the other night. Hannah really didn’t care. Sure, Beth had come out to both of them, but Hannah was about as straight as they came, and she did not care how BIG a girl’s racks were.

Eventually Josh stopped talking and Hannah looked his way. He had a puzzled look of his face. He occasionally looked back at the road, but mostly he kept his eyes on Hannah.

“You okay?” Josh asked. “I mean you haven’t even said that that girl was ‘too hot for me’“ Maybe there was more to playing Beth than Hannah had originally imagined.

“Oh,” Hannah said, trying her best to channel her inner Beth. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Well once we get a corn dog in ya you’ll be back to you.”

“Totally,” hannah said forcing a grin on her lips.

They got there just as the game started. Mike had been amazing enough to save them each a seat. Of course, Hannah forced her self in between Mike and Josh, who each looked a little confused but said nothing.

Hannah knew nothing about sports, in fact she wasn’t the least bit interested in them, but she was good at faking it. She sat on the edge of her seat, and cheered when the guys did and boo-ed when they did too.

“So Mike,” Hannah asked sometime before half time. “What’s been going on with you.”

“Ahhh,” Mike hissed. “My dad’s been up my ass about this Class Election this.” then Mike looked at her with his dreamy brown eyes and signed. “It’s nothing you do’nt wanna hear about it.”

“No I do,” Hannah insisted, feeling her heart race. Then Mike stared at her, eyes wide, looking like he just stepped in shit.

“What?” he asked.

“Beth,” Josh asked, giving her the same looked he gave her in the car. “What the fuck? did you hit your head or something?” Hannah felt her heart race a little faster, but this time from nerves. Abort, abort, abort, cover’s about to be blown.

She wondered what Mike would think if she told them the truth. Her bet was that he would think she was a weirdo freak and never want to talk to her again. Nope, can’t let that happen.

“Well the game’s not particularly interesting tonight,” Hannah blurted out. The other team was creaming them. She could see Poor little Matt trying so hard to keep the defense strong and keep them from scoring, but the offensive of their team was just so shitty every time they got the ball back up a bit, they’d lose it again and poor little Matt suffered. “I mean, c’mon. Anything Mike say’s has got to be better than watching the poor guy suffer.” Hannah was so proud of how much she sounded like Beth. She think she owned herself a little award when this was over.

Mike looked as though he wasn’t sure to be offended or honored. Josh just nodded along, convince it was Beth still.

“Welllll,” Mike continued. He paused waiting to see if Hannah would stop his as Beth, but she just kept staring at him and he continued. “Emily and her friends were supposed to be helping me hang posters and hand out buttons and such, but since we broke up-”

“You broke up!” Hannah said a grin appearing on her face. Then instantly she forced it to fall and tried to say it again, less enthusiastically this time. “You broke up?” she said as if she were watching the weather station.

“Yeah?” Mike said. “I thought you were there when I told Josh a few days ago...”

“Oh yeah,” Hannah covered, “I was, I just forgot cause half the things you say are forgettable.” Mike rolled his eyes, and Hannah felt her chest sting from saying the very words. But It was to save her relationship with Mike, so it was worth the heartache.

“Yeah well,” Mike said sounding very bitter. “We broke up and now I’m fucked in the ass unless i can get some hot girls to help me campaign.”

“I CAN!” Hannah said a bit too excited. “Well, me and Hannah,” she corrected, coughing slightly. “I know she’d really love to help you.”

“Really?” Mike asked. Josh looked like he was about to have a stroke. Just as that happened, their team scored and Hannah shot up to her feet and began cheering as she knew Beth would, as loud and obnoxiously as she could.

“Don’t panic,” Beth told herself as she fixed up her hair. “Don’t worry it’ll be fine.” Beth was so glad Hannah didn’t even think twice about her lame excuse. If she did, she wasn’t sure how Hannah would react.

She might be excited thinking about how Sam could one day be her sister in law. but Hannah might also accuse her of trying to steal the first thing Hannah never had to share with Beth, and Beth doesn’t think she could handle that. She loved her sister more than anything, but she was always so scared to do something that upset her. It was easier to just not tell her and take what would happen as it came.

It wasn’t as if Beth actually had a shot anyways. Sam was amazing and perfect, and Beth was... Beth. She wasn’t special or anything, just Josh’s little sister and Hannah’s twin.

So she was just going to spend the night being Hannah. She’d have fun with Sam and then ask her about... well Beth, and see where to take things from there. If Sam wasn’t interested, Beth would have to move on. Maybe fucking Mike’s ex would help. If sam was however.... Well Beth was fucked.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, Beth thought as she opened the door.

“Sam!” Beth said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as her sister always did. Beth threw her arms around Sam and she smelt like heaven. Sam hugged her back, but Beth wasn’t quiet ready to let go yet whens she let go of her.

“Ahhhh, Hannah,” Sam eventually said, and Beth let go of her. they both laughed but Sam had an odd look in her eye’s. Beth really really hoped she hadn’t blown her cover before Sam even stepped into the door.

“Sorry, sorry,” Beth said, forcing out a chuckle. “I’m just so super excited,” she shook her fists in the air, “I feel like it hasn’t been the two of us in forever!”

“I know!” Sam said. “Everyone else just always seems to crash in.”

“Yup but it’s just the two of us tonight. Well, until Beth and Josh come back at like midnight.”

A few hours went by and everything was perfect. Sam and her were watching a movie and other than the occasional comments, it was silent. Sam seemed to really like the movie too, which was nice since it was one of Beth’s favorites.

Eventually, the clock stuck ten and they got to the “girl talk” section of the sleepover as the credits started rolling.

“So did you hear that Em and Mike broke up?” Sam asked. Beth did her best to act surprised, throwing her hand over her mouth. Then she internally cursed herself. I hope Hannah doesn't try to throw herself on Mike if she finds this out at the game.

“What!” Beth said faking excitement. “No way!”

“Yeah,” Sam said, a forced smile on her face. “Em told me about it the other day, I don’t think she’s taking it well, or taking how well Mike is taking it well. But I don’t know, figured you’d be excited to hear.” Beth did not care in the slightest what Mike and Emily did in the stupid relationship. It was nothing but drama drama drama from the two of them and Beth was glad it was finally over.

“It’s cool,” Beth leaned in a little closer to Sam. “but what about you?” she asked. “No special guy in your life?” Sam smiled but looked a little confused. 

“Ahhh, no?” Sam said laughing. “I mean like you said, no guy is good enough for me.” Beth kept her “Hannah” grin on her face but her heart was beating like a drum.

“Totally totally!” Beth said, her voice straining slightly, “but you know... what about...” Beth paused, wondering if she’d really stoop so low as pretend to be her sister to find out if her best friend was into girls. Beth decided she was and continued, though she still felt some shame in her heart deep, deep, deep down. “Are you into girls?” Sam’s mouth fell open.

“I..” Sam said but paused.

“Sorry sorry,” Beth said forcing the nervous voice Hannah got when she was cared she crossed a line. “I just was curious, cause well... Beth came out to me the other day, and I mean, I never, ever saw tat coming, and so... IDK i just wanted to know.”

“Wait,” Sam said her eyes growing wide. “Beth’s gay?” It took everything Beth had not to roll her eyes. She thought it was pretty obvious, but some people were slower than others. Sam just happened to be the most beautiful idiot she’d ever met.

“Yeah!” she said faking shock. “I know, how left field, right?”

“yeah...” Sam said slowly, “it is kinda...” she paused. Sam looked Beth right in the eyes. Her green eyes were wide, and looked as though they were searching for something. Then a wicked grin grew over her face. “Well, is she interested in anyone?” Beth did her best to suppress a blush. 

“W-What?” she stuttered out. “I don’t know!”

“Maybe, she’s interested in blondes. I feel like Beth would be a blonde kinda girl.”

“Well... I-” Sam leaned in a little closer.

“and she’d probably be a really good kisser.” their faces were now so close, beth could feel Sam’s beth on her face. Beth wanted to look her in the eyes, but her eyes kept flashing down the Sam’s lips. they were right there, out and open and ready for a kiss.

“S-Sam. T-That’s.” and then their lips were touching. Beth held her breath he pulled Sam in closer. She was kissing Sam! She was kissing Sam! They broke apart after what felt like forever, and beth couldn’t think straight.  She just stared at this beautiful girl in front of her speechless.

“Well,” Sam said, grinning like a madwoman, “I guess I was right. You are quiet the kisser, Beth.” Beth’s eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open. She looked almost like a gapping fish.

“W-What?” Beth asked, “How did you know?” Sam just laughed at her.

“You said that you being gay was ‘left field’” Sam said as if that were an answer.

“So?”

“So, I don’t even think Hannah knows what it means to be ‘left field’ she hates baseball.” Beth grinned slightly. 

“I guess I need to practice being Hannah a little more.” She said with a sheepish grin.

“Or you could just be Beth and we could have a little fun before she and Josh get home.”

“I like that a lot better!”

Hannah walked in to Josh screaming.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he shouted. Hannah ran in to see Sam on top of Beth, both of them staring up at him scared to even move. They were caught in the act, and suddenly everything made sense. “I THOUGHT I ONLY HAD ONE GAY SISTER! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!”

The two looked at each other, then looked at Josh. There was a thick tension in the air, and Hannah started squealing. Josh looked over at her looking genuinely terrified to see what he believed to be Beth squealing.

“OMG!!” Hannah said. “THIS IS AMAZING!! YOU TWO ARE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER AND OMG JOSH!! THIS SO PREFECT FOR EACH OTHER!!” She grabbed his arm, and then Hannah saw the light bulb light up in his eyes.

“Oh thank god,” Josh muttered. He let out a sigh and started laughing. Beth and Sam were still watching them, unmoving and too afraid and shocked at say a word. “Oh my,” Josh lifted his hands dramatically to the sky to thank the heavens. “You two switched places. Balance is restored.”

“What?” Beth asked, finally breaking the silence. Josh just looked at her, then pointed and started to laugh.

“Oh god, and you,” he could barely get the words out. “Hannah volunteered you to help Mike, oh god this is great!”

“WHAT?!?”

“That alone is enough to make up for the fact I can’t sleep with Sam anymore.”

“Ew” Sam said crinkling her nose. Josh kept laughing, not even noticing Sam’s insult.

“This is amazing,” Josh chuckled as he left the room. Hannah didn’t leave, she was too excited and was bursting with with energy.

“OMG! This is perfect! I’m so happy for the two of you!” Beth glared at her.

“What did you do?” Beth hissed. Hannah’s smile wavered a bit.

“Well.. I-I,” She laughed nervously. With that she took off running to her room. Beth was too preoccupied with Sam to be pissed at her, so Hannah figured she was safe until morning.

#until dawn #hannah washington #beth washinton #josh washington #sam giddings #sath #ud sam #mine #my writing #prompt #cause you were so awesome today i gt inspired #glad to know you got all of our backs