#when the teams were announced i was burning through a book on the women of the reformation and these two really reached out and grabbed me

[queenlucythevaliant]

Clad in Justice and Worth

Written for the Inklings Challenge 2023 (@inklings-challenge). Inspired by the lives of Jeanne d'Albret and Marguerite de Navarre, although numerous liberties have been taken with the history in the name of introducing fantastical elements and telling a good story. The anglicization of names (Jeanne to Joan and Marguerite to Margaret) is meant to reflect the fictionalization of these figures.

The heat was unbearable, and it would grow only hotter as they descended into the lowlands. It was fortunate, Joan decided, that Navarre was a mountain country. It was temperate, even cold there in September. It would be sweltering by the sea.

The greater issue ought to have been the presence of Monluc, who would cut Joan’s party off at the Garonne River most like. The soldiers with whom she traveled were fierce, but Monluc had an entire division at the Garrone. Joan would be a prisoner of war if Providence did not see her through. Henry, perhaps, might suffer worse. He might be married to a Catholic princess.

Yet Joan was accustomed to peril. She had cut her teeth on it. Her first act as queen, some twenty years ago, had been to orchestrate the defense of her kingdom, and she was accustomed to slipping through nets and past assassins. The same could not be said of the infernal heat, which assaulted her without respite. Joan wore sensible travel clothing, but the layers of her skirts were always heavy with sweat. A perpetual tightness sat in her chest, the remnant of an old bout with consumption, and however much she coughed it would not leave.

All the same, it would not do to seem less than strong, so she hid the coughing whenever she could. The hovering of her aides was an irritant and she often wished she could just dismiss them all.

“How fare you in the heat, Majesty?”

“I have war in my gut, Clemont,” Joan snapped. “Worry not for me. If you must pester someone, pester Henry.”

He nodded, chastened. “A messenger is here from Navarre. Sent, I suspect, to induce you to return hence.”

“I would not listen to his birdcalls.”

“Young Henry said much the same.”

Joan stuffed down her irritation that Clemont had gone to Henry before he’d come to her. She was still queen, even if her son was rapidly nearing his majority. “Tell him that if the Huguenot leaders are to be plucked, I think it better that we all go together. Tell him that I would rather my son and I stand with our brothers than await soldiers and assassins in our little kingdom.”

Her aide gave a stiff nod. “At once, your Majesty.”

She would breathe easier when they reached the host at La Rochelle. Yet then, there would be more and greater work to do. There would be war, and Joan would be at the head of it.

*

When she awoke in the night, Joan knew at once that something was awry. It was cool. Gone was the blistering heat that had plagued them all day. Perhaps one of the kidnapping plots had finally succeeded.

Certainly, it seemed that way. She was in a cell, cool and dank and no more than six paces square. And yet—how strange! —the door was open.

Rising unsteadily to her feet, Joan crept towards the shaft of moonlight that fell through it. She glanced about for guards, but saw only a single prisoner in dirty clothes standing just beyond the threshold. He was blinking rapidly, as though the very existence of light bewildered him. Then, as Joan watched, he crept forward towards the gate of the jailhouse and out into the free air beyond. Joan listened for a long moment, trying to hear if there was any commotion at the prisoner’s emergence. When she could perceive none, she followed him out into the cool night air.

A lantern blazed. “Come quickly,” a voice hissed. “Our friend the Princess is waiting.”

The prisoner answered in a voice too quiet for Joan to hear. Then, quite suddenly, she heard his companion say, “Who is it that there behind you?”

The prisoner turned round, and Joan’s fingers itched towards her hidden knife. But much to her astonishment, he exclaimed, “Why, it is the lady herself! Margaret!”

But Joan had no opportunity to reply. Voices sounded outside her pavilion and she awoke to the oppressive heat of the day before. Coughing hard, Joan rolled ungracefully from her bed and tried to put away the grasping tendrils of her dream.

“The river is dry, Majesty” her attendant informed her as soon as she emerged from her pavilion, arrayed once again in sensible riding clothes. “The heat has devoured it. We can bypass Monluc without trouble, I deem.”

“Well then,” Joan replied, stifling another cough. “Glory to God for the heat.”

*

They did indeed pass Monluc the next day, within three fingers of his nose. Joan celebrated with Henry and the rest, yet all the while her mind was half taken up with her dream from the night before. Never, in all her life, had her mind conjured so vivid a sensory illusion. It had really felt cool in that jail cell, and the moonlight beyond it had been silver and true. Stranger still, the prisoner and his accomplice had called Joan by her mother’s name.

Joan had known her mother only a little. At the age of five, she had been detained at the French court while her mother returned to Navarre. This was largely on account of her mother’s religious convictions. Margaret of Angoulême had meddled too closely with Protestantism, so her brother the king had seen fit to deprive her of her daughter and raise her a Catholic princess.

His successor had likewise stolen Henry from Joan, for despite the king’s best efforts she was as Protestant as her mother. Yet unlike Margaret, Joan had gone back for her child. Two years ago, she had secretly swept Henry away from Paris on horseback. She’d galloped the horses nearly to death, but she’d gotten him to the armed force waiting at the border, and then at last home to Navarre. Sometimes, Joan wondered why her own mother had not gone to such lengths to rescue her. But Margaret’s best weapons had been tears, it was said, and tears could not do the work of sharp swords.

The Navarre party arrived at La Rochelle just before dusk on the twenty-eighth of September. The heat had faltered a little, to everyone’s great relief, but the air by the sea was still heavy with moisture. The tightness in Joan’s chest persisted.

“There will be much celebration now that you have come, Your Majesty,” said the boy seeing to her accommodations. “There’s talk of giving you the key to the city, and more besides.”

Sure enough, Joan was greeted with applause when she entered the Huguenot council. “I and my son are here to promote the success of our great cause or to share in its disaster,” she said when the council quieted. “I have been reproached for leaving my lands open to invasion by Spain, but I put my confidence in God who will not suffer a hair of our heads to perish. How could I stay while my fellow believers were being massacred? To let a man drown is to commit murder.”

*

Sometimes it seemed that the men only played at war. The Duke of Conde, who led the Huguenot forces, treated it as a game of chivalry between gentlemen. Others, like Monluc, regarded it as a business; the mercenaries he hired robbed and raped and brutalized, and though be bemoaned the cruelty he did nothing to curtail it.

There were sixty-thousand refugees pouring into the city. Joan was not playing at war. When she rose in the mornings, she put poultices on her chest, then went to her office after breaking her fast. There was much to do. She administered the city, attended councils of war, and advised the synod. In addition, she was still queen of Navarre, and was required to govern her own kingdom from afar.

In the afternoons, she often met with Beza to discuss matters of the church, or else with Conde, to discuss military matters. Joan worked on the city’s fortifications, and in the evenings she would ride out to observe them. Henry often joined her on these rides; he was learning the art of war, and he seemed to have a knack for it.

“A knack is not sufficient,” Joan told him. “Anyone can learn to fortify a port. I have learned, and I am a woman.”

“I know it is not sufficient,” the boy replied. “I must commit myself entirely to the cause of our people, and of Our Lord. Is that not what you were going to tell me?”   

“Ah, Henry, you know me too well. I am glad of it. I am glad to see you bear with strength the great and terrible charge which sits upon your shoulders.”

“How can I help being strong? I have you for a mother.”

At night, Joan fell into bed too exhausted for dreams.

*

Yet one night, she woke once again to find her chest loose and her breathing comfortable. She stood in a hallway which she recognized at once. She was at the Château de Fontainebleau, the place of her birth, just beyond the door to the king’s private chambers.

“Oh please, Francis, please. You cannot really mean to send him to the stake!” The voice on the other side of the door was female, and it did not belong to the queen.

A heavy sigh answered it. “I mean to do just that, ma mignonne. He is a damned heretic, and a rabble-rouser besides. Now, sister, don’t cry. If there’s one thing I cannot bear, it is your weeping.”

At those words, a surge of giddiness, like lightning, came over Joan’s whole body. It was her own mother speaking to the king. She was but a few steps away and they were separated only by a single wooden door.

“He is my friend, Francis. Do you say I should not weep for my friends?”

A loud harumph. “A strange thing, Margaret. Your own companions told me that you have never met the man.”

“Does such a triviality preclude friendship? He is my brother in Our Lord.”  

“And I am your true brother, and your king besides.”

“And as you are my brother—” here, Margaret’s voice cracked with overburdening emotion. She was crying again, Joan was certain. “As you are my brother, you must grant me this boon. Do not harm those I love, Francis.”

The king did not respond, so Joan drew nearer to the door. A minute later, she leapt backwards when it opened. There stood her mother, not old and sick as Joan had last seen her twenty years before, but younger even than Joan herself.

“If you’ve time to stand about listening at doors, then you are not otherwise employed,” Margaret said, wiping her tears from her face with the back of her hand. “I am going to visit a friend. You shall accompany me.”

Looking down at herself, Joan realized that her mother must have mistaken her for one of Fountainbleu’s many ladies-in-waiting. She was in her night clothes, which was really a simple day dress such as a woman might wear to a provincial market. Joan did not sleep in anything which would hinder her from acting immediately, should the city be attacked in the middle of the night. 

“As you wish, Majesty,” Joan replied with a curtsey. Margaret raised an eyebrow, and instantly Joan corrected herself: “Your Highness.”

Margaret stopped at her own rooms to wrap herself in a plain, hooded cloak. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Joan, your Highness.”

“Well, Joan. As penance for eavesdropping, you shall keep your own counsel with regards to our errand. Is that clear?”

“Yes, your Highness,” Joan replied stiffly. Any fool could see what friend Margaret intended to visit, and Joan wished she could think of a way to cut through the pretense.

When Margaret arrived at the jail with Joan in tow, the warden greeted her almost like a friend. “You are here to see the heretic, Princess? Shall I fetch you a chair?”

“Yes, Phillip. And a lantern, if you would.”

The cell was nearly identical to the one which Joan had dreamed on the road to La Rochelle. Inside sat a man with sparse gray hair covering his chin. Margaret’s chair was placed just outside the cell, but she brushed past it. She handed the lantern to Joan and knelt down in the cell beside the prisoner.

“I was told that I had a secret friend in the court,” he said. “I see now that she is an angel.”

“No angel, monsieur Faber. I am Margaret, and this is my lady, Joan. I have come to see to your welfare, as best I am able.”

Now, Margaret’s hood fell back, and all at once she looked every inch the Princess of France. Yet her voice was small and choked when she said, “Will you do me the honor of praying with me?”

Margaret was already on her knees, but she lowered herself further. She rested one hand lightly on Faber’s knee, and after a moment, he took it. Her eyes fluttered closed. In the dim light, Joan thought she saw tears starting down her mother’s cheek.

When she woke in the morning, Joan could still remember her mother’s face. There were tears in her hazelnut eyes, and a weeping quiver in her voice.

*

Winter came, and Joan’s coughing grew worse. There was blood in it now, and occasionally bits of feathery flesh that got caught in her throat and made her gag. She hid it in her handkerchief.

“Winter battles are ugly,” Conde remarked one morning as Christmas was drawing near. “If the enemy is anything like gentlemen, they will not attack until spring. And yet, I think, we must stand at readiness.”

“By all means,” Joan replied. “Anything less than readiness would be negligence.”

Conde chuckled, not unkindly. “For all your strength and skill, madame, it is obvious that you were not bred for command. No force can be always at readiness. It would kill the men as surely as the sword. ‘Tis not negligence to celebrate the birth of Our Lord, for instance.”

Joan nodded curtly, but did not reply.

As the new year began, the city was increasingly on edge. There was frequent unrest among the refugees, and the soldiers Joan met when she rode the fortifications nearly always remarked that an attack would come soon.

Then, as February melted into March, word came from Admiral Coligny that his position along the Guirlande Stream had been compromised. The Catholic vanguard was swift approaching, and more Huguenot forces were needed. By the time word reached Joan in the form of a breathless young page outside her office, Conde was already assembling the cavalry. Joan made for the Navarre quarter at once, as fast as her lungs and her skirts would let her.

The battle was an unmitigated disaster. The Huguenots arrived late, and in insufficient numbers. Their horses were scattered and their infantry routed, and the bulk of their force was forced back to Cognac to regroup. As wounded came pouring in, Joan went to the surgical tents to make herself useful.

The commander La Noue’s left arm had been shattered and required amputation. Steeling herself, Joan thought of Margaret’s tearstained cheeks as she knelt beside Faber. “Commander La Noue,” she murmured, “Would it comfort you if I held your other hand?”

“That it would, Your Majesty,” the commander replied. So, as the surgeon brandished his saw, Joan gripped the commander’s hand tight and began to pray. She let go only once, to cover her mouth as she hacked blood into her palm. It blended in easily with the carnage of the field hospital.

Yet it was not till after the battle was over that Joan learned the worst of it. “His Grace, General Conde is dead,” her captain told her in her tent that evening. “He was unseated in the battle. They took him captive, and then they shot him. Unarmed and under guard! Why, as I speak these words, they are parading his corpse through the streets of Jarnac.”

“So much for chivalry,” murmured Joan, trying to ignore the memories of Conde’s pleasant face chuckling, calling her skilled and strong.

“We will need to find another Prince of the Blood to champion our cause,” her captain continued. “Else the army will crumble. If there’s to be any hope for Protestantism in France, we had better produce one with haste. Admiral Coligny will not serve. He’s tried to rally the men, to no avail. In fact, he has bid me request that you make an attempt on the morn.”

“Henry will lead.”

“Henry? Why, he’s only a boy!”

Joan shook her head. “He is nearly a man, Captain, and he’s a keen knack for military matters. He trained with Conde himself, and he saw to the fortification of La Rochelle at my side. He is strong, which matters most of all. If it’s a Prince of the Blood the army requires, Henry will serve.”

“As you say, Majesty,” said her captain with a bow. “But it’s not me you will have to convince.”

*

Joan settled in for a sleepless night. Her captain was correct that she would need to persuade the Huguenot forces well, if they were to swear themselves to Henry. So, she would speak. Joan would rally their courage, and then she would present them with her son and see if they would follow him.

Page after page she wrote, none of it any good. Eloquence alone would not suffice; Joan’s words had to burn in men’s chests. She needed such words as she had never spoken before, and she needed them by morning.  

By three o’clock, Joan’s pages were painted with blood. Her lungs were tearing themselves to shreds in her chest, and the proof was there on the paper beside all her insufficient words. She almost hated herself then. Now, when circumstance required of her greater strength than ever before, all Joan’s frame was weakness and frailty.

An hour later, she fell asleep.

When Joan’s eyes fluttered open, she knew at once where she was. Why, these were her own rooms at home in Navarre! Sunlight flooded through her own open windows and drew ladders of light across Joan’s very own floor. Her bed sat in the corner, curtains open. Her dressing room and closet were just there, and her own writing desk—

There was a figure at Joan’s writing desk. Margaret. She looked up.

“My Joan,” she said. It started as a sigh, but it turned into a sob by the end. “My very own Joan, all grown up. How tired you look.” 

The words seemed larger than themselves somehow. They were Truth and Beauty in capital letters, illuminated red and gold. Something in Joan’s chest seized; something other than her lungs. 

“How do you know me, mother?”

“How could I not? I have been parted from you of late, yet your face is more precious to me than all the kingdoms of the earth.”

“Oh.” And then, because she could not think of anything else to say, Joan asked, “What were you writing, before I came in?”’

“Poetry.” Joan made a noise in her throat. “You disapprove?” asked her mother.

“No, not at all. Would that I had time for such sweet pursuits. I have worn myself out this night writing a war speech. It cannot be poetry, mother. It must be wine. It must–” then, without preamble, Joan collapsed into a fit of coughing. At once, her mother was on her feet, handkerchief in hand. She pressed it to Joan’s mouth, all the while rubbing circles on her back as she coughed and gagged. When the handkerchief came away at last, it was stained red.

“What a courageous woman you are,” Margaret whispered into her hair. “Words like wine for the soldiers, and yourself spitting blood. Will you wear pearls or armor when you address them?”

“I will address them on horseback in the field,” answered Joan with a rasp. “I would have them see my strength.”

Her mother’s dark eyes flickered then. Margaret looked at her daughter, come miraculously home to her against the will of the king and the very flow of time itself. She was not a large woman, but she held herself well. She stood brave and tall, though no one had asked it of her. 

Her own dear daughter did not have time for poetry. Margaret regretted that small fact so much that it came welling up in her eyes.  “And what of your weakness, child? Will you let anyone see that?”

Joan reached out and caught her mother’s tears. Her fingertips were harder than Margaret’s were. They scratched across the sensitive skin below her eyes.

“Did I not meet you like this once before? You are the same Joan who came with me to the jail in Paris once. I did not know you then. I had not yet borne you.”

“Yes, the very same. We visited a Monsieur Faber, I believe. What became of that poor man?”

Margaret sighed. She crossed back over to the desk to fall back into her seat, and in a smaller voice she said, “My brother released him, for a time. And then, when I was next absent from Paris, he was arrested again and sent to the stake before I could return.”

“I saw you save another man, once. I do not know his name. How many prisoners did you save, mother?”

“Many. Not near enough. Not as many as those with whom I wept by lantern light.”

“Did the weeping do any good, I wonder.”

“Those who lived were saved by weeping. Those who died may have been comforted by it. It was the only thing I could give them, and so I must believe that Our Lord made good use of it.”

Joan shook her head. She almost wanted to cry too, then. The feeling surprised her. Joan detested crying.

“All those men freed from prison, yet you never came for me. Why?”

“Francis was determined. A choice between following Christ and keeping you near was no choice at all, though it broke my heart to make it.” 

If Joan shut her eyes, she could still remember the terror of the night she had rescued Henry. “You could have come with soldiers. You could have stolen me away in the night.” 

Margaret did not answer. The tears came faster now and her fair, queenly skin blossomed red. So many years would pass between the dear little girl she’d left in Paris and the stalwart woman now before her. She did not have time for poetry, but if Margaret had been allowed to keep her that would have been different. Joan should have had every poem under the sun. 

“Will you read it?” she asked, taking the parchment from her desk and pressing it into her daughter’s hands. “Will you grant me that boon?”

Slowly, almost numbly, Joan nodded. To Margaret’s surprise, she read aloud. 

“God has predestined His own

That they should be sons and heirs.

Drawn by gentle constraint

A zeal consuming is theirs.

They shall inherit the earth

Clad in justice and worth.”

“Clad in justice and worth,” she repeated, handing back the parchment. “It’s a good poem.”

“It isn’t finished,” replied her mother.

Joan laughed. “Neither is my speech. It must be almost morning now.”

As loving arms closed around her again, Joan wished to God that she could remain in Navarre with her mother. She knew that she and Margaret did not share a heart: her mother was tender like Joan could never be. Yet all the same, she wanted to believe that they had been forged by the same Christian hope and conviction. She wanted to believe that she, Joan, could free the prisoners too. 

She shut her eyes against her mother’s shoulder. When she opened them, she was back in her tent, with morning sun streaming in. 

*

She came before the army mounted on a horse with Henry beside her. Her words were like wine when she spoke. 

“When I, the queen, hope still, is it for you to fear? Because Conde is dead, is all therefore lost? Does our cause cease to be just and holy? No; God, who has already rescued you from perils innumerable, has raised up brothers-in-arms to succeed Conde.

Soldiers, I offer you everything in my power to bestow–my dominions, my treasures, my life, and that which is dearer to me than all, my son. I make here a solemn oath before you all, and you know me too well to doubt my word: I swear to defend to my last sigh the holy cause which now unites us, which is that of honor and truth.”

When she finished speaking, Joan coughed red into her hands. There was quiet for a long moment, and then a loud hurrah! went up along the lines. Joan looked out at the soldiers, and from the front she saw her mother standing there, with tears in her eyes. 

#inklingschallenge #inklings challenge #team tolkien #genre: time travel #theme: visiting the imprisoned #with a tiny little hint of #theme: visiting the sick #story: complete #so i like to read about the reformation in october when i can #when the teams were announced i was burning through a book on the women of the reformation and these two really reached out and grabbed me #Jeanne in particular. i was like 'it is so insane that this person is not more widely known.' #Protestantism has its very own badass Jeanne/Joan. as far as i'm concerned she should be as famous as Joan of Arc #so that was the basis for this story #somewhere along the line it evolved into a study on different kinds of feminine power #and also illness worked itself in there. go me #anyway. hopefully my catholic friends will give me a shot here in spite of the protestantism inherant in the premise #i didn't necessarily mean to go with something this strongly protestant as a result of the Catholic works of mercy themes #but i'm rather tickled that it worked out that way #on the other hand i know that i have people following me that know way more about the French Wars of Religion and the Huguenots than i do #hopefully there's enough verisimilitude here that it won't irritate you when i inevitably get things wrong #i think that covers all my bases #i am still not 100% content with how this turned out but i am at least happy enough to post it #and get in right under the wire. it's a couple hours before midnight still in my time zone #pontifications and creations #leah stories #i enjoy being a girl #the unquenchable fire

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Boo's Dollhouse

Chapter 1: Pumpkin Bae

Tamera Leigh-Buschall aka Boo was 36 when she inherited 21,545 square feet of Texan mansion from her late husband Larry Buschall. In his will, she was the sole beneficiary. She got it all and his three kids got nothing. No one liked Larry Buschall, he was a self loathing upholder of white supremacy, mean, bitter, and corrupt.. but he was stinkin rich and weak for female company. Boo had to be his nurse, his secretary, and his empty headed porn star. The corporate shark and multimillionaire was 75 when he finally croaked.

Three years living and riding on top of the foul mouthed tyrant funded Boo's self-made business, run out of her home with a team of creative young women in her employment who knew how to have fun while making her a ton of money.

"It's time ladies," she announced to the lounging women in her budoir. "Move out. Our first customer of the day has arrived."

Boo wouldn't tell them who it was for the sake of client anonymity, only that he was male and paying for a complete experience. Only Boo and the chosen sex worker could know the identity per NDA.

Boo and her security team were the only ones standing at the front door waiting, Boo wearing a pumpkin head with two mimosas in hand, one for herself and one for the client.

The shiny black rolls royce rolled into the driveway and parked near the front door of the mansion with Shawnee, the black-suited driver walking around to open the back door. Out stepped the 6'3 slim yet athletic frame of a man in a light grey jogging suit, green socks, and sneakers with a Scream mask overlapping awkwardly with his hoodie. The fall morning air was nippy and orange leaves blew on the stone path. He made it to the door and accepted the glass.

"Boo?"

"Ahh! ..Come in."

He snorted and she stepped back allowing him to take in the festive trappings of the foyer decorated by her and the dolls themselves while she sipped her mimosa. It was gothic chic and Hollywood classic horror opposed to Party City. Still, they had to keep the webs stretched across the walls and signature black spiders. There were arrangements of black burning candles and black lanterns. The entire place smelled feintly of vanilla. He turned to the skull full of complementary condoms and the trick or treat bucket of candy and mints, looking back for permission. A proper southern gentleman.

"Help yourself!"

Boo shuffled in her fuzzy pink slippers to a folded leg position on the living room couch. It was a waiting room she used to further interview clients in a comfortable manner. 9:30 AM was entirely too early to start off with a tour. The girls deserved a little grace, space, and time to get their bearings.

"Talk now, tour later," she patted on the couch for him to sit. He sat.

"Oo.. this is good," he frowned from his first sip of fresh mango pineapple mimosa. He had to lift the bottom of the mask to drink. "Nice pumpkin head," he gestured wide.

"Like I like it. The head gotta be big." She picked up her appointment book. They hadn't set a time for him to leave the premises which meant he could stay and spend money. She turned to a listing of the girls by photo and showed him the two-page spread of glamour shots. "So what's ya type?"

"Damn. Already? Well I always say the blacker the berry..." That ruled out the Israeli girl, the Puerto Rican, and the Korean. "Preferably slim thick," his hands curved. That ruled out a few more. "Athletic. Long hair," he stared at Boo's photo. She watched him through the eye slits in her pumkin head. "Real tall.. WNBA Tall."

She clapped the book closed. "You tryna fuck me?"

"All five foot ten inches."

"Ooh," she whispered leaning in. He smelled like Tom Ford. He'd done his smell good routine and was ready. "Say less I've seen Watchmen." She popped up not spilling a drop, her drink raised high. She pulled him by the front of his grey hoodie. "Don't spill nothing on my floor.. Have you had breakfast?"

"Not yet, I could eat. Where all the women?"

"Enjoying their morning, you'll see some of them when I give you the tour."

Boo lead the 6'3 client up one of the two grand staircases toward her entertainment suite. This was a dim and elegantly designed room with gothic glam touches. A squared stage was on the far wall decorated like a pumpkin patch with a pole in the middle. A nook with a fullsize bed was to the left as well.

"Look at that," he pointed at the large jack-o-lantern with smoky fog coming from its gaping mouth. She closed the door and sat him at a short dining table and matching southern gothic style chair placed adjacent of the stage.

"Interested in some hookah, Yahya?"

"Definitely."

She offered a selection while she made a call to the kitchen. The Ghostface mask was finally off and in his lap as he smoked the area into a cloud, getting loose like he was at a warm cafe.

"I feel like I'm in a gentleman's club," Yahya exhaled, smoke rising up. "I feel like a king." Boo's hand swept his cheek and held his face sucking up smoke in a shotgun that left him staring.

"You are. Enjoy yourself. Let me handle everything."

He closed his eyes and let the clouds overtake him while he rested. When kitchen delivered, Boo sat the plate of pancakes with banana and creme fraiche in front of her client and watched his deep brown eyes alight with childlike satisfaction.

His senses were being engaged and to a playlist of Brent Faiyaz and Giveon. She left her slippers and took the stage, twirling in her pink satin pj's around the centered pole in a fluid, consistent, and practiced manner while he hummed and moaned enjoying gourmet pancakes and soothing hookuh unrushed. There was no reason for Boo to rush, the cashier was trained as a receptionist and the next client wasn't scheduled until 12.

Yahya watched Boo carefully as she danced, her mile long legs like a stretch of highway on display for his eyes only. He followed her stems all the way up to the sexiest parts concealed by her short shorts. It was left for him to imagine and he loved not seeing it off the bat. Especially when she stretched and put her leg up by her head, it sent blood to the organ between his thighs.

Legs were his weakness. Her long slender legs teased him with their fit and athletic feminine nature. She kept up with her workouts and worked for those legs. They were shiny, hairless, and free of blemish. Her calves were shapely and in good proportion. When she stood on her toes the gentle toned musculature was apparent. It wasn't too much. There was something about a beautiful and slim fit woman's legs to Yahya. They were sensual in a subtle way, sneaky in their appeal. Only other leg men would truly appreciate what he was seeing and understand why he preferred super tall slim thick women. He could feel the blood rushing to his growing erection and he blew his smoke at the stage enjoying his private dance.

A classically trained ballerina on a pole, Boo was smooth and at ease in a zone working through a comparatively low intensity routine under the music.

"Bravo," he blew.

She ran with his fetish, surrounded by fog and flexing the length and strength of her legs, doing scissor sits and jamilas. She mixed in her carousels, knee spins, and sunwheels.

"Magic City," he muttered.

She remained upright to keep her pumpkin head on, semi blinded, but strong in muscle memory. He chuckled when she paused her spins to work in a low pulsing twerk on beat.

"I know you dance, Cadillac."

"Girl... Don't start me up."

She glanced back invitingly.

Yahya was on the stage of pumpkins in seconds isolating his hips on rhythm. He sat her pumpkin head among the others, lifting her chin. Between her beauty, her body, and the way she moved it was no wonder the old sugar daddy left her everything.

He sandwiched her between two poles, the one she swung on and the one in his lap, slow grinding to Loose Change.

"Big maaan," she smiled feeling his lips on her ear and his full and sensitive hard-on pressed against her.

"Mhm." He became a leach on her kneck, his hand in her shorts grabbing the fat cat with his manicured middle fingers inside. "You like my hand around your neck baby?"

"Mm, yess," she moaned in bliss feeling him choke her. She threw her hands over his neck and relaxed letting him bring her to orgasm.

When he picked her up with ease, she wrapped her long feminine and statuesque legs around his waist gripping him until he placed her on the bed. She flipped onto her stomach and arched letting him peel away away at the layers.. her pj shorts and cartoon jack-o-lantern panties.

It was his turn to strip taking it all off until he was leaning nude on the bed, fresh clean and well man-scaped.

His tongue went up her thigh finding it butter smooth, supple and firm. He replaced her panties with kisses on her cheeks which were smooth and perfectly round like a peach with a healthy youthful bounce. He stuck his face between using his thumb to rub her labia open and her clit while she held her own cheek back. His tongue did the rest.. long sweeping strokes and gentle sucks with extra saliva that nearly made her extend his hour with her just to keep getting this tier of head. She didn't have time.

"Come show me what that dick do or does it hang to decorate your balls?"

He ripped open a blue condom he pulled from the skull and covered his length, rubbing the tip on her clit, sliding up and inside.

She drove her ass back, swallowing his length and bouncing off his hips. He fucked her back. The bed began to tremble with their force. Their bodies collided. Boo planted her elbows and threw her lower half on rhythm to the music.

"Fuck this pussy back. Fuck this pussy back."

He grabbed her by her hair ready to make her see stars, but again no time. She pushed him off, pulling him beneath her as she put a leg over his shoulder to fuck him from on top, bouncing while his toes curled and his eyes squeezed shut. The bed continued to shake to the degree that it didn't seem normal. They both felt it, like an earthquake, but Boo ignored it. She turned and squatted to a reverse cowgirl position, bouncing some more until he conceded with a long hiss. She blew on two imaginary guns and reholstered them. His time was up and he was swallowing like he needed water. She didn't have the time to give him another hour to manhandle her like he wanted, she had to clean up and prepare for 12. Plus, there was still the tour.

"Stay there, don't move."

Her coffin-nailed finger stopped him in his tracks. All clients were spoiled with a fluffy hot towel and soapy wipedown. She pulled him up to his feet and dressed him in a clean white terrycloth robe, new white socks, and his Scream mask. She herself wore the second terrycloth robe with her slippers.

She called her live in maid to tidy up the room, folded his sweatsuit, and handed it to him then escorted him through her Houston mansion excluding her personal wing where she slept and did her personal business. She showed him the kitchen, the various common rooms. A picture fell.. the picture she'd hung to replace the commissioned portrait of the late Larry Buschall. He loved his damn picture there and every day Boo looked at it she wanted it gone. When he died she replaced it with something visually attractive, a piece of art that matched her decor. She looked at the picture on the floor, rolled her eyes, and kept leading Yahya to the theatre room which boasted twenty generous seats and a big screen with surround sound.

"Who left the speakers on," she sighed when they both heard the feedback.

In the wine cellar, she poured him a splash of her favorite 1992 vintage red wine for taste. She was right to think he'd appreciate it.

Next to show him was the dance hall, the gym, the basketball court, and the grotto-style swimming pool. He took his robe and mask off handed it to Boo to get a running start. She watched him cannonball into the deep water with a big splash and climb back out, running soaked and grinning like a child.

"We wild baby! We FERAL!"

"Boy put ya mask on!" She redressed him like a mama, fixing the robe on him. His socks were soaked through. "Look at you, follow me."

She led him to the shower room and left his clothes with him so he got the hint. He came out fifteen minutes later dressed and grabbing at her waist.

"What do you say we go for a spin on the dance floor. I'll teach you some new moves."

"We still got one more place to visit sir."

"Excuseee me," he smiled.

She brought him to the register.

"This is where I show you your total."

It was a place where he could get a look at his bill so it wouldn't be a surprise when they took his money. She watched him read over the itemized receipt. Hookah session, breakfast, and an hour in Boo's suite at Boo's rate which was the highest rate of all the dolls.

Yahya looked at the number and nodded retracting the comment that never left his lips. The service was worth the dollar amount. She smiled. "Come back anytime."

"Now," he smirked.

"Baby a bitch is busy running a business, try next week, Tuesday if you're looking for soon." She adjusted his hood over the black fabric of his mask. He followed her back to the front of the house and lingered for a minute. She pulled him by his hoodie strings and rubbed his chest through the fabric. "You're welcome back. Just make sure you don't forget me.."

She backed him out of the front door and the black Rolls Royce waiting. "I'll think of you!" Boo blew a kiss.

Shawnee closed Yahya in and he was still looking back wistfully at the house as the car drove away to drop him back at his own car.

Finally she could focus on getting ready for the 12 o'clock client and she could get some brunch.

"How was it," Kitty came around the corner in black lingerie and heels, being noisy.

"Y'all can come out," Boo turned watching a group of women come from hiding.

"I was waiting, I thought he was gonna choose me or Honey," Angel collapsed on the white sitting room cushion jumping at the disembodied voice that wretched at her.

"Get yo goddamn monkey feet off my seat ya pie-faced nappyheaded semon demon. Ain’t ya mammy never taught ya ta respect furniture that ain't yo's. In here acting like a damn fool.. ALLA' YAS!"

"Shut UP," Boo scowled. "'Fore I start burning shit.. And I like this couch.."

Angel laughed. The girls had gotten used to the ghostly outbursts of old nasty Larry Buschall. He was all bark and no bite post-mortem. If a customer heard it, the dolls knew what to do. They'd pass it off as a speaker or a prank. No one in the house was truly afraid.

"Now I'm going to eat and I better not hear nothing else," Boo bitched the air with her finger. "..That's what the fuck I thought," she muttered.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @localtrapgod @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @miyuhpapayuh @harleycativy @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @nobodybaby93 @ladymac82

#original #yahya abdul mateen #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction

[90spumkin]

Invisible

Request:  hi can you please do a spencer reid x bau fem reader and can it based on the song invisible by 5sos where the reader feels like she is invisible because everybody talks over her and trips her and nobody does anything.also they hate her besides spencer, rossi, penelope and hotch and they hate her because of jj because she is jealous of how the reader and spencer are close together so one day the reader gets kidnapped and is forced to read her song journal or her journal.so spencer gets mad at the team when they try to confront him

A/N: I really hope this is what you were looking for when you made the request. I hope it’s not absolute trash. Thank you for the request anon! The song that was apart of the request is Invisible by 5 Seconds of Summer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader

Warnings: slight swearing, angst I think, description of torture 

Word Count: 1875

It was a nice sunny day in Virginia, one of its less humid days. That should be a sign it was going to be a good day, right? Wrong, y/n had a bad gut feeling it was going to be a very bad day. Worse than normal.

Y/n was sitting in the BAU parking garage watching a few people from her team walk in the building. Emily, JJ, and Morgan were genuinely nice people…except to y/n. They hadn’t always been rude or distant towards her that just started up recently, and y/n knew why. She took a deep breath and exited her car, making her way inside the same way the others had.

She knew her gut feeling was right as soon as she walked through the double glass doors. She tried to make a beeline for her desk, keeping her head low to avoid eye contact. Things didn’t go as planned.

Y/n tripped over a box of files bumping into Morgan who bumped into Emily who spilled coffee all down the front of her white blouse. Y/n instantly started to panic, “Oh my God, Emily I am so sorry! I’ll get some towels!”

Emily gritted her teeth and just said, “Don’t!”, she stormed off grabbing her go bag to change out of her now ruined blouse. Morgan just huffed and made his way to his desk.

Y/n made it to her desk finally with no other accidents. She sat down and put her head in her hands trying to choke back a sob. She felt a presence next to her but didn’t look up till she felt a hand on her shoulder, “Y/n are you okay?”

She looked up to see Spencer Reid standing before her with a worried look on his face. She gave him a small smile. He didn’t seem convinced due to the worry line between his eyebrows deepening. They stared at each other a little longer than what was probably necessary. JJ got their attention by walking by waving files and announcing, “We’ve got a case.”

Y/n saw JJ pause and look at Spencer’s hand on her shoulder and gave y/n a quick glare before continuing her way to the round table room. Spencer moved his hand and started to trail behind JJ while having a conversation with Morgan. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure she was following and when he went to wait for her, she shook her hand urging him on without her.

Why was it so hard to push him away? She knew the others no longer liked her because of how close the two of them had gotten. They felt as if she was stealing Spencer from them when all she wanted was to be friends with them all. She let out the second sigh of the day and made her way to the briefing, falling in step with Hotch and Rossi who both gave her a warm smile.

The briefing went by in a flash. It was a whirlwind of information and thoughts being bounced back and forth, and like always y/n’s insight was overlooked. The flight went by just as fast. After going over the files and new information from the bubbly Garcia, y/n had gone to sit at the back of the plane. The entire time ignoring Spencer’s worried glances.

Once they arrived at their destination, the team split off to do their assignments given by Hotch. Y/n was with Spencer putting together the victimology. The whole time she felt his eyes on her, but she never said a word hoping some how she would become invisible to him like she was to the others.

She didn’t realize how much time had passed when they got a call from Hotch telling them they were closer to the warehouse Garcia had said belong to one of the suspects. They grabbed their vest and took off as fast as humanly possible.

The warehouse was a dark and looming building and y/n felt the hairs on her neck stand up. Spencer walked around the SUV and said, “There’s no time to wait for the others we’re going to have to split up. Meet me in the back, okay?” She nodded and went to scope out the left side of the build, but Spencer grabbed her hand and search her eyes for a moment before giving her hand a quick squeeze and letting go.

She crept around the building, gun aimed and eyes looking for any sign of movement. She thought she heard something behind her, but when she turned, she was met with absolutely nothing. She turned to continue her way towards the back of the building, and that’s when everything went black.

Y/n woke with an ache on the left side of her head and she was pretty sure there was blood running down her face. She was tied to a chair in a big empty room with a light fixture hanging above her. Once her eyes fully focused, she realized there was a camera aimed towards her and man standing behind it.

“Ah you’re awake. Time to have some fun.”, his voice was raspy like he smoked 50 packs of cigarettes a day. Y/n knew the unsub liked to toy with his victims, she saw all the videos in the time before the call from Hotch. He was going to torture her darkest thoughts and deepest secrets from her. Y/n’s lips tingled, and her stomach twisted into knots.

“I know you know what’s about to happen, but I found something that’s going to make this a little more interesting.”, the unsub walked around the camera showing it the journal he held in his hand.

----

Spencer was absolutely frantic, there was no other way to describe it. He felt so stupid for splitting up from y/n. It was his fault she was kidnapped, and it was his fault they were seeing her on the screen. The others were rushing around and he could hear them talking to Garcia trying to figure out where he was keeping her.

On the screen the unsub was waving around a book and Spencer could see the pleading in y/n’s eyes. At the sound of the smack that went across y/n’s face everyone stopped.

“You’re going to read this so your little team watching this really knows what you think of them.”, the unsub was gripping y/n’s jaw tightly. She shook her head viciously which landed another smack across her already bruised cheek.

Tears stung Spencer’s eyes and he said, “We need to find her now!”. JJ put her hand on his arm trying to calm him, but he shrugged it off, “Don’t touch me.”

He turned back towards the screen at the sound of y/n’s broken voice, “Um the first part is part of a song. No one sees me I fade away, lost inside a memory of someone's life It wasn't mine Just me and my shadow and all of my regrets Who am I? Who am I when I don't know myself? Who am I? Who am I? Invisible Wasted days, dreaming of the times I know I can't get back.”. She stopped reading which earned her a cut down the side of her neck, she let out an ear shattering scream. Spencer turned away and looked at Hotch begging him for something. Hotch just shook his head, they don’t have a clue where he was keeping her.

Y/n continued reading but Spencer could no longer watch so he listened, “I never meant to upset anyone. I wanted to belong; I want to be everyone’s friend. I guess I became friends with the wrong person first. JJ was the first to become my friend, but when I told her- when I told her I was crushing on a certain young doctor, that’s when she decided to make my life a living hell. I’m invisible now. My thoughts don’t matter, I don’t matter. I no longer know why I try.”

Y/n stopped and started to beg not to read anymore. Spencer couldn’t move, he could only glare at the woman who claimed to be his best friend. She knew he had feeling for y/n and yet she chose to be cruel to her and keep them apart.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Garcia’s voice through the speakers of the tablet laying on the table telling them she has an address of the unsub’s parent’s lake house. Just like that the team stormed out of the police station in a blur of grim faces and vests.

----

With every word she read, y/n felt as if acid was being poured down her throat. She had paused once again and this time the unsub slammed the journal shut in anger and aggravation.

“That’s it I’m bored.”, and before she knew it there was a rope around her throat and her lugs were burning as she gasped for breath. Her vision began to blur, and darkness was surrounding her mind. Before she passed out, she heard a shout ring out and saw a flash of blonde hair.

When y/n woke up she winced in pain and at the fluorescent lights above her. She let out a groan as she tried to sit up. There was a hand on her shoulder as someone said, “Hey woah take it easy.”

Y/n realized it was JJ and it took everything in her not to flinch away, “What are you doing here?”. There was sadness in the petite blonde woman’s eyes. She glanced down at the floor than back up at y/n as she said, “I’m so sorry for everything that I put you through, what I influenced the others to put you through. I don’t have a good excuse or reason to why I did it, but hearing you saying all those things it broke something in me. Can you ever forgive me?” Tears began to stream down her face as she asked for forgiveness.

Y/n finally saw a glimpse of the woman she had met on her first day at the BAU. She gave her a real smile and nod. Both women let out little chuckles which made the buddle of limbs in the chair in the corner of the room stir. Y/n hadn’t realized Spencer was there asleep. JJ stood to leave saying, “I’ll give you guys some space to talk.”

As soon as Spencer realized y/n was awake he raced to her side mumbling and repeating himself, “I am so so sorry, y/n. I should never have left you.” Y/n grabbed his hands that were clinging to her, “Spencer it’s okay. I’m okay. Nothing that has happened is your fault.”

Spencer turned his head away from her, she brought her hand to his cheek turning him back towards her, “Hey it’s okay I promise.”

“It’s not just that, I didn’t realize how much you were struggling with the others. I want you to know they aren’t going to hurt you anymore, no one will ever hurt you again. I love you, y/n.” He kissed the palm of her hand that was resting on his cheek.

She smiled down at him and she finally felt peace as she said, “I know. I love you too.”

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #anon request #request finished

[4stars-uswnt]

Through Sickness and Health [USWNT x Reader]

requested by anon: Could you write something with baby reader getting sick/hurt and the rest of the team taking care of them, preferably with Christen & Tobin being the “team moms” to them.

A/N: yay for t & c scoring today!!!

You stare at the plate of breakfast in front of you, massaging your temples, as if you could somehow rub the pounding headache away.

“Woah, (Y/N), you don’t look too good.” Emily observes, pausing mid bite of her eggs.

“Wow, thanks, Em.” You roll your eyes sarcastically.

“No, she’s right, (Y/N).” Mal rubs your back, examining you closely. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, guys, I’m fine. It’s just a little headache, probably because I din’t sleep that well.” You mumble, leaning your hooded head onto Mal’s shoulder.

“Alright well, drink up, we gotta go to the field.” Mal pushes your glass of water in front of you.  

You gulp down the water, slamming the cup on the table, as you get up and follow your teammates onto the bus.

—————

It was almost the end of practice, and you felt like you were either going to throw up or collapse, or both. Your head was pounding, your throat was dry, and your stomach was doing somersaults.

As soon as Vlatko blew the whistle, you rest your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath, exorbitant amounts of sweat dripping off of you.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Tobin comes up from behind you, resting her hand on your back.

You huff out a sigh and stand up right. “Yeah, I’m good.” You nod, sighing.

“Alright,” The older forward hums, squinting her eyes skeptically, “let’s get you on the bus.”

She wraps her arm around your shoulders, guiding you off the field. As you’re walking, your legs wobble like jelly, and you can feel them start to weaken.

“Tobes… I don’t feel so good.” You softly groan, before you completely faint, collapsing in Tobin’s arms.

“(Y/N)!” Tobin exclaims, gently laying you down on the grass. “(Y/N)? You with me?”

“Tobin!” Christen calls, frantically running up to the two of you, followed by the rest of the USWNT. “What happened?”

“I don’t know! She just fainted.”

Christen kneels down next to you and feels your forehead with the back of her hand. “She’s burning up.”

“She wasn’t looking too good this morning at breakfast.” Mal interjects, frowning worriedly.

“Yeah, she’d said she had a little headache.” Emily adds.

“Well why didn’t anybody say anything?!” Christen snaps at the younger defender, who just shrinks. An angry Christen Press was definitely a sight to fear.

When you first joined the national team a couple of years ago, at the age of 18, Christen and Tobin immediately took you under their wings, crowning themselves your official team moms. The two helped you both on and off the pitch, whether it be watching game film with you or discussing your decision to play professional. They were also particularly protective of you, especially Christen, who was also your Royals teammate.

“Chris, they didn’t know.” Tobin calms down the upset woman, reminding her the task at hand.

“Right.” Christen sighs, nodding her head.

Vlatko approaches the group, followed by the medical staff. “Guys, give (Y/N) some space.”

The women back up, making some room for the trainers and the stretcher, while Tobin and Christen stay close to you.

As they load you onto the stretcher, Tobin furrows her brows. “Where are you taking her?”

“We’re just gonna take her into the med room back in the locker room to check up on her. I don’t think it’s anything too too serious, but we want her to wake up before we make any diagnosis and take her back to the hotel.” One of the trainers explains.

“Can we come with you?” Christen asks, nervously biting her lip.

“If you’d like.” He nods, and the two forwards follow the medical staff.

Back in the med room, the trainers put you onto the bed and get a cool towel to put on your head. While you were not awake yet, they had a feeling it was a case of the stomach flu, so they got a cup of water and thermometer ready for you.

About five minutes later, you slowly opened your eyes and grumbled. “Whaaa…what happened?” You groggily rubbed your eyes, as you try to sit up.

“Woah, sweetie, how about you lie back down.” Christen gently pushes you back down to the med table. “You fainted, (Y/N). They say it’s the stomach flu.”

“Ugh… just great.” You mumbled under your breath, groaning in frustration and discomfort.

The head trainer, who’d noticed you were awake, reentered the room. “Hey, (Y/N), how are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus.” You mutter.

He picks up the thermometer and hands you a cup of water, which you sip, soothing your dry throat.

“I’m just gonna quickly take your temperature.” He motions for you to open your mouth.

A couple of moments pass before a beep sounds. “102.4” The trainer reads, before turning to Christen and Tobin. “Make sure she gets plenty of rest and drinks lots of water. I recommend taking her temperature every two hours or so, and when her fever breaks, then come talk to me.”

“You know I’m right here? I can take care of myself.” You protest.

Tom and Christen share a look, exchanging a silent conversation.

“Sounds good, Tom. Thank you.” The curly-haired forward smiles, and the trainer nods, making his exit.

Once the three of you are alone, Tobin starts, “(Y/N),” she brushes your hair out of your face, “Em and Mal said that you weren’t feeling too well earlier this morning. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad, and I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it or worry you guys.” You shrug, avoiding eye contact with both women. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, honey.” Christen reassures. “We were just extremely worried when you fainted, especially since we didn’t know what was wrong.”

“Yeah, we care about you, kid.” Tobin coos.

“I love you, guys.” You mumble tiredly.

“We love you too, (Y/N/N).” Christen softly smile, reaching for your hand. “Now, c’mon, let’s get you back to the hotel, so you can rest.”

“Can one of you carry me?” You plead, giving them your best puppy eyes.

Tobin rolls her eyes at your childish behavior. “Sure, kiddo, hop on.” She squats down, so you can climb onto her back. The three of you make your way to one of the team vans, the bus having already left, and you head back to the hotel.

—————

As you’d fallen asleep on the ride over, Tobin carries you up to your room, takes your shoes off, and tucks you into bed.

After about an hour and a half of sleeping, you wake up, feeling a little better, but still quite uncomfortable.

“Hey, how you feeling?” Christen puts her book down, noticing you’re up.

“Eh, a little better.”

“Here, let me take your temperature.” She reaches for the thermometer and approaches you. “100.6. Not as bad, but not good. You’re still burning up.” She feels your forehead. “How about I draw you a warm bath? It might help cool you down, and you still stink from training.”

You stick out your tongue at her. “Chrissss, I don’t wanna move.” You whine.

“C’mon, you big baby. I’ll get it started.” She heads into the bathroom and starts the water, ignoring your grumbling and protests.

You throw the blanket off your body and begrudgingly enter the bathroom, where Christen’s sitting on the edge of the bath full of warm water and bubbles.

“Here, I’ll turn around, so you can get in.” The older woman stands up and turns to face the door.

You strip off your clothes and toss them to the side before sinking into the bath.

“You can turn around now.” You announce to Christen, as you close your eyes, relaxing in the warm water.

“Feel good?” She asks, returning to sit on the edge of the bath.

“Mhmm.” You hum, before opening your eyes. “Where’s Tobin?”

“She went to get you some snacks, medicine, and some more water.” Christen answers, as she reaches for the shampoo. “Wet your hair for me?”

You lean back, letting your hair fall in the water while keeping your face drying. You sit back up, and Christen begins to wash your hair. As she massages your scalp, you feel your eyes droop. You hear the door open and close, and Tobin peeks her head in the door.

“Hey, (Y/N/N), you’re up? You good?”

“Mhmm.” You blissfully hum.

“I see the bath is helping.” Tobin smirks, winking at Christen. “Well, I got you some snacks and meds.” She holds up a bag.

Your eyes fly open at the mention of food. “Oooo, what kind?!” You sit up so fast that water and bubbles splash onto the brunette forward.

Christen glares at you, and you shrink back into the water. “Wash.” She points.

You dunk your entire head in the water, squeezing your eyes shut, and you scrub the soap out of your hair. Emerging from the water, you wipe the water from your face and see Tobin has joined Christen, sitting on the edge of the tub.

“So what kinda snacks did you get?” You eagerly ask.

Tobin chuckles and leans down, reaching into the bag. “I got some cheddar popcorn, Oreos, pita chips, and some banana and peanut butter.”

You grin at the thought of all your favorite snacks. But before you could reach out for one, Christen cuts in.

“Wait, (Y/N/N), you sure you up to eating something? Is your stomach feeling better? I don’t want you to throw up again.” She gives you a worried glance. You wince, as you remember the throw up incidences in the car as well as when you arrived to the hotel.

“My stomach is feeling a little better.” You assure the older woman, who’s still looking at you wearily. “How about I start with a banana?” You propose, trying to rest Christen’s qualms.

“Okay.” She nods, giving in, and Tobin breaks off a banana from the bunch, peeling it and handing it to you.

“Thanks, Tobes.” You grab it and take a bite.

After you finish half the banana, your stomach not wanting any more, and after your bath, you find yourself back in bed, sandwiched between the two forwards.

The three of you start to make some light conversation, when there’s a knock on the door.

Tobin slides off the bed and opens the door, and the rest of your teammates flood into your hotel room, climbing either on your bed or the bed across from you.

Mal, who took Tobin’s spot next to you, much to her displeasure, cuddled into your side. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Mhm.” You nod, snuggling into her body.

“Good. I was really worried.” She mumbles into your shoulder.

Your heart swells, and you grin. “Don’t worry. I’m good.”

“(Y/N), open up.” Christen interrupts, holding out the thermometer. “98.7” She reads, smiling.

“Thank goodness!” Kelley calls from the table, as she puts an Oreo in her mouth and plops at the foot of your bed. “We thought you died.” She exaggerates.

“Shut up, Kel.” You roll your eyes. “And stop eating my snacks.” You kick up your foot, trying to nudge the defender.

“No, but in all seriousness, (Y/N), we’re all really glad you’re okay.” Megan insists.

“Yeah, when you collapsed, we kinda all freaked out.” Julie adds, several of the other women nodding along.

“I think the scariest part was that we didn’t know what was wrong.” Alex says, and Christen hums in agreement.

“We want you to know that you can come to us with anything because we’re always here for you.” She softly grins down at you.

“Thanks you guys. It really does mean a lot. I’ve never really had people like you guys in my life.” You confess, smiling at your team.

“Well, you better get use to it because we’re not going anywhere!” Ashlyn exclaims, as she jumps on the bed, encouraging the other women to dog pile on you as well.

You look around you and can’t help but feel warmth spread throughout your body, and this time not from your fever but from love. You were extremely grateful that you had this team of women, especially Tobin and Christen, in your life, who’d be there for you through sickness and health.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, jbsaucy!

Happy belated Birthday, @jbsaucy​! We hope you had a wonderful day back on the 16th, and that you celebrated in style! To bring your party back around, the lovely @mega-aulover​ has written a story just for you!

For this year, I am recently divorced and trying to get the nerve up to get out there. So I would like to request a 30/40s Everlark, post divorced meeting

Jbsaucy

Dear Jbsaucy I hope you had a wonderful birthday. I apologize for the lateness, and I hope you had a wonderful day. This prompt BTW was amazing and I had a great time writing it. It was a blast. Thank you to Norbertsmom for Betaing 

Rated T 

Title:  OFF THE MARKET

-kpkpkpkp-

Divorce sucks. SUCKS.

Getting divorced sucks, being divorced sucked.

But nothing, not the tedious nature of dividing unwanted movies, the fear of root canals, or getting a speeding ticket, compared to dating. Dating, ladies and gentlemen, after being married for ten years sucked royally. 

ROYALLY!

After my divorce, my attorney suggested I get a hobby or join a club. I really wasn’t a social person. Not much of a talker, and avoided any and all spotlights. It was this fear of the spotlight that originally brought me in contact to my now ex-husband, Darius.

My best friend Gale pushed me to do one of those karaoke nights. I panicked and ran straight into Darius. He thought I was cute, and I was grateful he went up with me to the karaoke microphone. He sang and I laughed. The rest is history; the marriage only lasted ten years. But I knew we weren’t right for one another, partially because Darius was a very sexual person, for me sex wasn’t important. I got more enjoyment out of getting my teeth cleaned. He found someone who revved his engine and I got the fica and dates. 

Yup Dates.

How did that happen you ask?

Well, I’ll tell you I followed my divorce attorney’s suggestion. Preface-OUTSIDE OF A COURTROOM NEVER EVER FOLLOW YOUR DIVORCE ATTORNEY’S ADVICE.

With that warning sign, I digress. Taking a deep breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Wait for it... I joined a book club. 

It was the only natural course of action. After our divorce I got all of the books. You see one of the things Darius and I loved to do was go to bookstores. We’d buy all of these books with the intention of reading them, and we never did. We had bookshelves filled with books from the 100 Must-Read Classic Books by Penguin. So after my divorce, I sat in my newly minted apartment with a box of wine and all of these books. 

I was looking at the boxes, my divorce papers jutting out. Amongst them there was a note - with the name of a book club, the real 451 book club, with an address. I called them the Squad 451 or the Squad. The women were a hodgepodge of personalities; the right blend of sweet and crazy. There is Mags, the motherly type. She has boatloads of grandchildren. Then there is her neighbor Greasy Sae  who runs a diner in town. I used to go to her diner as a kid and consume her mystery meat soups. The older woman is bawdy and half of the things she says makes me blush redder than a red bean. Next is Annie, a shy, slightly mad girl who is a librarian. Delly has the personality of the southern bell who wears pink and believes in romance. I’ve known of Delly forever; she and I went to the same high school. 

Foxface,  has one of those names with multiple consonants and vowels but prefers to go by Foxy or Foxface. She is freakishly smart and sometimes, I think she has blackmarket dealings because she’s so secretive. Then there is Effie, the middle aged, tightly wound woman whose book choices are as repressed as she is, like Jane Eyre. And last, but not least, is my divorce lawyer, yes the very same one who suggested I get a hobby, Johanna Mason who is, well, a sex fiend. 

I started meeting up with them, and six months after my divorce, that’s when the ladies conspired against me and set up my profile on one of those dating websites looking for men, for me. I had no idea, and on my birthday, they presented me with their “gift.” 

It was the gift you didn’t want, like a pimple on your wedding day or the runs before an important interview, or bad breath before a first kiss. 

Greasy said that if I didn’t use my, well, feminine - looks around - petals. That they’ll dry up and turn into ugly petunias. I announced sex wasn’t important, and even friged Effie said a lady needed to literally, figuratively, and metaphorically, occassionally let her hair down. 

 I said NO.

I demanded.

I scowled.

Nothing helped.

They created a profile based upon themselves, and yet through describing themselves they pegged me. I was nurturing. I had a sexy edge. I was introverted, and yet mysterious. I was smart, honest, loyal and a closet romantic. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll hunt you down, even after I’m dead. 

They split me up like a kid of divorced parents being schlepped from one house to the other. They set themselves up in teams and each team got to pick my dates. And everytime we met for a book club meeting, I was to dutifully report on the date. Based upon their success, a second date would be permitted. 

It was a simple proposition. 

I was naive. A stupid idiot, or as Bugs Bunny say’s, a maroon. 

Because I hadn’t really ever been out there. 

To be honest, I met Darius right out of high school, at my first college party, and we were married - okay it wasn’t a big wedding. It really wasn’t a wedding at all. It was a spur of the moment, we got drunk and ended up at one of those Elvis chapel impersonators. Annnnd bada-bing. 

I never really dated, so I agreed with the book club’s plan, because how hard could dating be?

 And thus began my nightmare.

I must state, or emphatically note, not all of my “dates,” were catastrophically bad. To be fair, most of the time I wasn’t interested. Delly said I wasn’t romantically pulled. Johnna said my engine wasn’t revved up. Greasy said if the man didn’t make me want to orgasam with a look, then he wasn’t worth my time. I posed this question to the universe: How in blazing blue inferno does a man make a woman...well you know, with a look? Was that even possible?

A hazy yellow fuzz enters my head and my mind wanders. I conjure up blue eyes and translucent lashes that never tangle.  

Sigh.

…. (my brain just short circuited at the thought of large hands)

Earth to Katniss. 

Okay sorry, I spaced out for a little bit, and their words spurred me on to continue my journey. And one year after my divorcce I had stories, no I have battle scars.  To prove my point, the following are my top three worst dates. In no particular order.  

Date Disaster # 1 was with an artsy type at a chique Italian restaurant. He arrived late, and was drunk, high, or both. Then fell asleep on his plate of bolognese. Yup, in his plate of spaghetti and meat sauce. I paid for my half, tucked my tail between my legs and left.

Date Disaster #2 was with a small man with glasses and a massive intellect who didn’t stop talking about flamingos. FLAMING PINK FLAMINGOS. My brain shut down. I didn’t hear the music in the jazz themed restaurant. I didn’t even taste the heat in the gumbo. The only factoid I remembered when we said goodnight was that flamingos were gray when they were born. I couldn’t even tell you how they became pink. The man was the human form of anesthesia for my soul. 

Date Disaster #3 was a nice man. We laughed. And everything was going well. We ordered drinks, a cranberry and soda for me, the bartender special for him while we waited for our table. Turns out he has a milk allergy and the bartender special had milk. When we sat down at the table and we were talking about our hobbies, his stomach began to grumble loudly. He became pasty and then as the waiter brought out our appetizers, he threw up all over the place. It was a good thing that throwing up didn't bother me, but it bothered our waiter who gagged. Needless to say, I burned the outfit I was wearing.  

Those were the top three...but there were more, just simmering to become the top one. And for a time I thought I wasn’t made to date.  But the ladies had faith and they were really trying to choose nice, interesting guys. However, nothing, nothing that I could ever imagine could top my latest date. 

I’m rushing along the sidewalk. I don’t want to be late, but at the same time, I don’t want to tell them how much of a calamity my latest date was, but to be completely honest, I don’t want to miss it. Tonight is also the night the group meets at Mellark’s. The friendly cafe style bakery with its rich and yummy pastries, both savory and sweet. It is my favorite place to meet. Squad 451 meets twice a month in different locations, including one of the two meeting rooms in the library, one of the community rooms in the Justice Building, and on our birthdays, we meet in a restaurant, but the bakery on Main Street is our favorite location. The Mellarks owned several locations. The flagship store was always managed by one of the original family members.  

If George Senior, or the middle son Ryan Mellark is at the helm of the bakery, they allow us to cavort in the shop until close. When his older brother George Junior or their Mother Muriel was in charge, we tended to be quiet, relegating our conversations to the books. When Peeta is in charge, there are free cheese buns and chaos. 

Please, stomach gods, let Peeta be there. I skipped lunch today because I had a deadline. I also forgot my wallet at home. Thankfully, my license was at the bottom of my backpack. I need food before my stomach eats itself. I am starving when I walk into the bakery. When I see Peeta, I stop. His blue eyes meet mine and my stomach flip flops. He gives me a slow sweet smile, before his eyes slide back to the customer who is ordering.

“Katniss,” Delly squeaks, waving frantically.

Somehow, my feet carry me over to the table and there is a plate of cheese buns and I thank every celestial being in the universe. His buns are heavenly. Sitting down, I take a napkin and snatch one.  My mouth waters and my lashes close as I bring the cheese bun to my mouth.  The smell of melted cheese, fresh bread, and the hint of dill, assuage my nose, before I bite into one of Peeta’s coveted flaky concoctions. The combination of the oozing cheese, the herbs and the buttery bread elicit a moan from deep within my being. These freaking cheese buns will be the death of me. 

“Wow.” Peeta’s voice causes my lashes to fly open. 

Peeta is standing near me with a cup of tea; his face and neck splotchy and red.  

My mouth is full of delicious food, but I forgot how to chew. 

Delly is looking between us. Her pale blue eyes quizzical, like when she’s trying to understand a concept or theme in a book.

 “Okay, bitches,” Johanna says, slamming her brief down. “Where’s the rest of the motley crew?”

“Mags and Greasy just arrived,” Delly answers absentmindedly. 

“Hey, Peeta, I need a strong black coffee.” 

“Sure,” Peeta says, all the while staring at me. I finally remember to chew. “Here Katniss, your tea.”   

Taking the paper cup, I can’t help feeling bashful. “Thank you.”

“Peet,” the girl behind the counter calls. 

Whenever Peeta is here, the business is brisk. He is charming. He was always charming, even back in high school he was the most popular guy, not only because of his looks, but because he was genuinely nice. I, like all of the other girls, had a mini crush on him. 

Looking over his shoulder he says, “I’ll be right back with your coffee, Jo.” 

Now Jo is looking between him and me, but hers is a wicked grin, like right before she nails a sleazebag who doesn’t want to pay for his children. I quirk an eyebrow, clueless as to what has Johanna showing off her predatory gleam. 

“Oh, it’s chilly outside,” Mags says.

“It’s colder than Rudolph’s balls outside,” Greasy says, her gruff voice is booming. Several patrons look at her. Greasy does not care. She’s well past her sixties and it’s her motto that she should live each day as if it was her last. 

In walks Effie, Annie, and Foxface, and they all say, “Hello,” in unison. 

The book of the month is actually a YA fiction called, The Fault in Our Stars, about teens with a terminal illness. I cried when Gus...I tear up once more...at the memory. But I know we aren’t going to discuss Hazel’s predicament with her parents. 

“So,” Delly says, bouncing in her chair.

I can’t help but grimace.

“How did it go?” Foxface says. She has an accent, but I can’t place it. 

“He looked like he belonged on one of those erotic books Johanna loves to read,” Greasy says, grabbing a cheese bun.

She’s not wrong. Gloss was a blond adonis, with slate blue eyes. And abs that have a flipping twelve pack, I ought to know, I counted them. The words are out of my mouth before I am aware of what I am saying.  “He really does with a twelve pack,” I say drinking my tea.

“Did you say twelve pack?” Johanna sat up. 

My eyes widen. 

“Wait, why are you blushing Katniss?” Foxface narrows her eyes.

“Did you and he…” Annie trails off. Her doe eyes are wide. 

“Did you have your first sleepover?” Effie leaned in. 

“Or did you dry hump him like a horny-toad dog?” Greasy’s voice bounces in the bakery.

Peeta’s pauses , wiping down the counter and looks directly at me. 

“NO!” My voice sounds half strangled.

Jo and Delly exchange a look. “Peeta,” Delly calls him over. 

Oh, no, no, no, I say to myself, eyeing how quickly I can get from the back corner to the exit. It is one thing to tell the squad, it is another to have Peeta know. I think I can sprint around the chairs and clear the table near the door like an olympic hurdle jumper. 

Peet walks over. “Hey Dells, can I get you ladies anything?”

“Katniss was going to regale us with her latest date,” Delly says.

“She’s going to tell us how she knows her date has Thor’s body.” 

“You’re dating?” Peeta asks, looking at me intently.

He doesn’t know I am dating or rather, being raked through hot coals.

“Oh,” Foxface chortles. “She’s dating.”

“Remember the guy who was texting with his mother during the entire date,” Effie said.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mags saids grinning.

“Only the part when he had Katniss talk to her, and it turned out she was psychoanalyzing her to make sure she wasn’t an ax murderer,” Annie said laughing.

“Or what about the guy who kept on mentioning his ex and cried through the crème brûlée,” Greasy slaps her knee, laughing.

I can’t help but laugh. 

“Man, those are pretty bad,” Peeta says.

I hold up my finger. “No, those are tame.”

“Tame?” His blue eyes are sparkling. “You mean there are worse dates?”

Delly snorts. “Oh there are worse. I am so glad I am out of the dating pool.”  

“Yeah, Gale just loves you,” Annie sighs. 

Delly and Gale met when I joined the book club. And while I floundered, they fell in love and now Delly was pregnant.  

My eyes shift to Annie. “It’s so much easier when you fall in love.”

“Oh?” I say.

“I met someone,” Annie says softly. “He wants to meet all of us.”

I wonder what type of guy would date quiet, shy, introverted Annie who sometimes says things that remind me of that song from those Freddy movies from the 80’s. I shake my head.  Then I narrow my eyes. “Bring him to the next session,” I hear myself say. I want to meet this man, and make sure he will take care of my friend. 

“Really.” Annie clasps her hands.

I nod, but I notice Peeta is looking at me with this strange gleam in his eyes.  “Ah...yeah.” My voice sounds breathy. I frown, wondering why the heck I sound like one of those girls. You know the ones that always appear in the music videos washing cars and dancing on super yachts. Darius was fascinated by those girls, heck, his new girlfriend looks like one of those girls.

The women are chatting with Annie about the new guy in her life.  

“We'll discuss Annie’s beau later,” Mags holds her hand in the air. “I want to hear about Katniss’ date.” Her white hair spills over her shoulder as she fixes me with a look. “So tell us, how do you know Thor has a twelve pack?”

Somehow or another I knew the scrutiny on Annie would be short lived. My time to shine would come, but when I open my mouth to speak I can see a conspiratorial glance between Mags and Annie. And it hits me that they chose this man, because he looked like Thor. I scowl at the women who set me up on this one. Mags and Annie both have a pink tinge to their faces. I would have expected this from Jo or Greasy, but Mags and Annie, well it’s INCONCEIVABLE! 

I begin to speak. “He asked me to meet him at the edge of town, near route twelve.”

“Isn't that where Ripper’s place is?” Effie questioned, and she couldn’t hide her revulsion. 

“Yup,” I said, popping the ‘P’, thinking of the bar that disguised itself as an eatery. It was a seedy diner with cracked linoleum floors, yellowing formica, booths that had patches, blinking lights, and rickety chairs. 

“That’s where he asked you to meet him?” Mag’s sounds outraged. “That place is…is-”

“- a bedhaven for unsavory characters,” Foxface finishes. 

“You're brainless,” Jo mutters darkly. "Ripper's isn't the type of place you can go to Katniss. You should have called me."

As protective as I am about my friends, so is Jo. She's tough on the outside but has a really soft center. It's what makes her a perfect shark in the courtroom. Not that Darius was a jerk during our divorce. He actually wasn't. Johanna was present at the restaurant where he announced he wanted a divorce. Johanna later said it was my face, the vulnerability I tried to hide was why she took my divorce pro-bono. 

“I drove and brought my bottle of mace.” I know what everyone was thinking. The area in town where Ripper’s is located at, made the bad side of town look like a tourist destination. I didn't mind meeting my date there. I was looking forward to a basket of fries. Ripper's had amazing beer-battered fries. 

I've been to Ripper's once. I was with Gale and Thom who needed to score fake IDs. I ordered the fries, since I wasn't there for an ill gotten identification. But let me tell you, those fries. Oh! Holy mother of fries, no other fries can compare. 

Shivers!

I love food; it's why I'm a food critic now. What's so funny is that it was those fries that began my career as Buttercup, the elusive food critic. Back then I was Buttercup, the fussy eater. I blogged about them, no, I lavished them with love. I love my job. I can go into any restaurant, order anything on the menu, blog about it and get paid handsomely. And, most importantly, I can do it anonymously. Not even Darius knew I was Buttercup. He thought I was a boring housewife. Getting back to the fries, I wasn’t deterred from getting my fries.

“So then what happened?” Annie asked.

“He was there waiting for me. He stood up and smiled. And he's massive-"

"Just like a book cover," Foxface mutters.

 "He said his name wasn't Anthony, it’s Gloss.”

“Gloss?” Everyone said at the same time.

“Yup.” I sighed. “It was a sign. I should've left." Damn those fries! 

“So Gloss…" Peeta's sparkling eyes are on mine, his are an amazing hue of blue, like the indigo milk cap mushrooms. "Looks like Thor."  He frowns. "Thor with the long hair or short?"

"Long." The women around me answered as one.

Peeta turned those gorgeous eyes back to me.

Thor isn’t my cup of tea. I shrugged to show my indifference. "Gloss was sporting the Ragnarok look, short hair with facial hair."

 I swear I watch Peeta mouth, "short hair."

"Anyway, we sat at a booth. It was packed, actually." That should've been clue number two. Men at a joint like Ripper's at 8:30 on a Friday night, it was by the highway, plausible. But packed with just as many women. "The waitress who took our drink order could barely hear me."

"Was he nice?" Annie asks.

"He was sweet." Truthfully Gloss was a sweet guy.  He talked about his mother in a positive way, even if she gave him the name that was another descriptor for shiny objects. "He was attentive too. He told me his mother worked in the makeup industry. "

"That doesn't sound too awful," Delly says.

"He sounds delightful." Mags pushes her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose.  The gang is getting tired of the story and I hope they will move on to the reason we are  gathered, discussing the book we were reading. I begin to reach into my backpack because I really hate purses.

"If he's so delightful, why did he ask you to meet him at Ripper's?" Johanna says in her cross examination voice.

I wince as I take out my book.

"Yes, you must explain." Foxface demands.

"It's not nice to leave us dangling." Effie levels a look at me that has me squirming, feeling like I was being summoned into the principal's office. 

"I wanna know how you know Gloss has a twelve pack," Greasy says.

Peeta looks at me expectantly. 

Anndddd were back. I sigh. Will he run for the hills when I tell him? Most likely.

"We were talking about dancing.” My voice loses all it’s warmth. “I don't dance."

This causes a rumble of laughter and giggles amongst the women. Peeta looks confused. Finally Delly wipes the tears from her face and gasps, “You should never dance. Ever!” 

"That poor man’s toes,” Mags says, her shoulders shaking.

“Do I need to know?” Peeta looks between them. 

“I don’t dance!” I growl. The group erupts into another bout of laughter. 

“It was a scheme, a dirty underhanded scheme,” Effie says. 

The guy I was supposed to date was a dance instructor. He used the dating app as a way to drum up business. When the women meet him, he pairs them with guys who were there for a lesson. He paired me with a poor man named Harry. My nerves got the better of me, because I don’t like to be touched. Harry’s hands were sweaty. Harry tried to dip me as per my date’s instructions. I tripped, and in the process his toes were crushed, and I ended up with a sprained ankle. 

When I arrived in crutches to the next book club, well, that was one of those dates that simmers at the surface vying to be in the top three. 

“Gloss didn’t believe me. He said anyone can dance. I told him no, and explained that there are people who are predisposed to fly in airplanes, and some who get motion sickness in a car. “

“What happened next?” Foxface asks, moving to the edge of her chair.

“He went to the jukebox.”

“Oh no,” Johanna mutters. “Did he end up in the hospital?” 

“Is that how you know he’s got a twelve pack?” Greasy questions. The ladies, and Peeta are all staring at me. 

I shake my head. Why couldn’t there be a rush of customers right now? It is calm and I know the odds are against me. 

“Spill it!” Johanna demands. 

“Well, he queued up a song and waited a beat, and then Lenny’s Kravits’ American Woman started blaring. Gloss started sauntering and spun and did the splits on the floor. Next thing I know, the women in the place go nuts. They surround him, like a rabid pack of wild dogs.”

“Wait, what!” Delly exclaims her pale eyes bright, she grips the book in her hand. 

“That doesn’t happen,” Peeta says.

“It does to her,” Foxface said, her eyes shining with ferocity, like the eyes of those women at Rippers.

“Shut it blondie,” Johanna orders. 

“Yeah,” Annie says.

Taking a deep breath I continue. “He started dancing...hips…” my brain flashing to his hips gyrating. “...jutting out and…”

“Ohhhhh yeah,” Greasy cackles.

“Gyrating, his hips gyrating,” Foxface gasps.

With eyes closed I nod. “His hips were doing that all over the place. He then jumped on the table and proceeded to rip off his shirt. He shouted my name and told me his next move was his favorite. He spun onto his knees and slid up in my face before dropping his drawers.” I lower my eyes. 

“What,” Delly squeaked. “His pants?”

“It’s like Magic Mike,” Mags whispers.

I know the movie Mag’s is referring to. I’ve never seen it. “Yes.” 

“Was he naked-” Foxface began.

“-or was he wearing-” Annie cut Foxface off only to be cut off herself. 

“A G-String!” Greasy shouted excited.

I shook my head no. He wasn’t wearing anything, I can feel the heat burning my ears.

“Well don’t stop! What happened next!” Even Effie has lost her sense of propriety. 

“As I looked for an escape. It’s then I noticed  the poster on the wall, for the Slag Heap.” I pause and sigh, “Men’s Magic Friday Night Extravaganza, and Gloss was the headliner. I realized he’s a stripper.” 

And the place erupts in laughter. 

“What did you do?” Peeta asks.

My eyes connect with his.

“I slunk down to the floor and crawled my way out...drove to the hospital and made my sister administer a tetanus shot.”

 “Can I have his number?” Johanna says laughing but her eyes are dead serious. 

Peeta is smiling at me and I grab a cheese bun because they are as delicious as the man staring at me. 

Eventually we do get to the book, and it’s a pretty good discussion. Peeta let us stay until closing. Mags and Greasy are the last of the ladies to leave. It’s just me and Peeta since he let the staff go home. I’m loitering because I feel like I need to explain to Peeta why I let the ladies talk me into dating. 

I’m putting up the chairs on the tables when Peeta comes out. 

“You’re still here?”

“Yeah.” I look down at my feet.

“Katniss.”

“Peeta.” We both say at the same time, followed by a nervous chuckle.

“You first,” Peeta insists, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Dating wasn’t my idea.”

“It wasn't?” He raised an eyebrow.

I shake my head. 

“So what happened?”

“The ladies, they got me a year long subscription for my birthday, and knowing I wouldn’t go through with it, they choose who I date...until I find someone,” I can feel the heat rising from my neck and reaching my cheeks, “I like.”

“Really?”

I nod, incapable of speaking.  I cannot stop watching the way he blinks, those darned translucent lashes that never tangle. 

“Dating is pretty brutal.”

“Yeah,” I snort because dating is horrible. 

“My family is constantly setting me up. I went out with a girl who sang through the entire meal. She chose the pasta and sang On Top of Spaghetti.”

“What?” I laugh.

“That was my dad’s doing. My mom’s choice was a lot scarier. She made me do an obstacle course and made me do it three times until I beat the time she wanted me to reach.”

“Wow.”

“I was dressed in dress slacks, a nice shirt, and a tie.” He deadpans, “I even had on dress shoes.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. 

I couldn't help but smile. 

“Dating sucks until you find someone who makes you laugh, someone who makes dancing easy.”

He approaches or maybe it’s my own feet that carry me to him. But it doesn’t matter because when his arm slides along my waist, and the other cradles my hand, I have no fears. There is something familiar with him as I dance with him. A slow shuffle, that has the room spinning but none of it matters because I feel at home.

“Will you dance with me Katniss?” His voice rumbles in my ear and my heart is pounding in my chest.

His scent is a warm heady mixture of spices, dill, vanilla, and cinnamon. 

“Would you go out with me Katniss?”

“Yes,” I answer, and just like that my dating profile goes up in flames. Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially off the market.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by mega-aulover

[the-little-crime-writer]

DiAngelo is the only survivor of the largest mass suicide on American soil. He found the bodies of his 39 friends lying with plastic bags over their heads, wearing neat black tracksuits with an 'Away Team' patch and Nike trainers. Now we discover why he was left behind...

It was midday when Rio DiAngelo arrived at the hilltop mansion overlooking San Diego to find all the windows closed, the curtains drawn, and outdoor lights burning in the sunshine. The front door was locked, but he found a side door ajar and warily pushed it open.

The unmistakable stench of death made him gag and he covered his face with his shirtsleeve, which still smelled of cologne from his morning shower. As he walked through the eerie silence, he knew what he would find. And he dreaded it. Upstairs, 39 of his friends lay dead in their beds after the largest mass suicide on American soil. All members of a bizarre cult, they had each downed a lethal cocktail of vodka, barbiturates and apple sauce to leave their 'earthly containers' and join an alien spaceship trailing the Hale-Bopp comet.Yelling out in case anyone was still alive, DiAngelo raced from room to room. But all he found were bodies with plastic bags over their heads. Each one wore a neat black tracksuit with an 'Away Team' patch and Nike trainers with their comet-trail trademark. The 21 women and 18 men had each packed a small bag for the journey, and have five dollars in their pocket. Thoughtful to the end, each had left a note saying. 'I forced myself to go into each room and check everyone,' said DiAngelo. 'With each body I came across, the loss became too much to bear. They were my closest friends. I loved them dearly.'

DiAngelo, who's real name is Richard Ford, became involved with the Heaven's Gate Cult in 1994 after attending one of their meetings in a California hotel or 'Cultifornia' as sceptics often call the state that spawned Charles Manson and the Reverend Jim Jones. He had listened while nine androgynous-looking members wearing identical loose clothes and cropped hair described their absolute belief in aliens, the paranormal, and reincarnation. One of them was 59 year old Thomas Nichols whose sister, Nichelle, played Star Trek's Lieutenant Uhura. Forbidden to have sex, hug each other, or even shake hands, the Heaven's Gate cultists concentrated on purifying their bodies and spirits ready for the move to 'an advanced level of being' on another planet or dimension. They called each other brother or sister, observed daily rituals, and were allowed to watch only selected TV programmes. Individual needs were minimised so that a member who had run out of deodorant, for example, would have to apply for a new one in writing.Anyone entering the immaculately clean mansion referred to as 'the temple' had to take off their shoes and wear surgical socks. Silence prevailed, and many of their neighbours assumed they were 'a bunch of monks.' In line with their belief that they had been sent to earth as angels, six members were castrated and, according to DiAngelo, 'they couldn't stop smiling and giggling about it.'

On some days, members had to report to their superiors every 12 minutes while on other days they were required to wear a cone on their heads as they would in alien bodies. Many common words were changed so that members would not remember their human past once they had ascended into space. For instance, house became 'craft' and kitchen became 'nutri-lab.' Their 65 year old leader Marshall Applewhite had started the cult in 1972 with Bonnie Nettles whom he had met while undergoing treatment for homosexuality in a psychiatric hospital. They had abandoned their human names and called themselves Guinea and Pig, then Bo and Peep, before finally settling on Do and Ti.Ti died of cancer in 1985, But Do, claiming he was Jesus reincarnated, said he continued to communicate with her. The group survived financially by running a successful web page design firm which they also used to try and win converts and spread their message. Their own website featured pictures of stars and nebulae downloaded from NASA and appeared very businesslike. It also stated that suicide is acceptable for cult members who want to ascent to 'a higher level of life.' Heaven's Gate shared some of the beliefs of 19th century occultists like novelist Mark Twain. In 1907, Twain wrote a short story about a hero leaving Earth for 'an extended excursion among the heavenly bodies' on the trail of a comet. He took his passport and five dollars for the fare. Despite their fantastic beliefs, DiAngelo was converted and lived in this eccentric community for nearly three years. I'd just turned forty and recently divorced and I was trying to find meaning in life,' he said. 'I'd had a fairly troubled past that included a violent, unstable mother and other bad relationships. The group shared my interest in UFOs, music and Eastern Religions.

But in, December 1995, Do's teaching took a more sinister turn and DiAngelo later recalled that he 'sat us all down and told us that we might have to leave our bodies behind. Amazingly, we didn't really have a problem with that. We trusted Do implicitly. 'We found a suicide recipe that used phenobarbital, vodka and apple sauce, and Do and some of his helpers went to Mexico to buy enough of the drug for the entire group.'  Eleven months later, an amateur astronomer took a photo of the Hale-Bopp comet, which showed a mysterious oval-shaped object trailing in its wake. Although NASA later described it a 'proto-comet' 2,000 miles behind Hale-Bopp, other astronomers dismissed the sighting as a hoax or error. Hale-Mary, as it was called, has not been seen since. Do, however, convinced his followers that it was a spaceship coming to take them away and that his deceased partner, Ti, was flying it. Seeing significance in everything, he told then that Hale-Bopp even had the same initials as Helena Blavatsky, another 19th century occultist with whom the group shared beliefs. Having decided on this 'Star-gate' plan, the group prepared to enjoy a final spree on Earth by spending some surplus money. They went to Las Vegas and stayed at the Stratosphere Hotel, and rode the rollercoaster and the Big Shot free-fall ride. A week later they went to see Star Wars and visited the San Diego wild animal park and Sea World. For their 'last supper,' they booked a table for 39 at a local restaurant where waiter Eric Morales was struck by their politeness and helpfulness. 'From the moment they arrived, all austerely dressed and looking the same, I knew this would be no ordinary shift,' he said. 'I made a joke to sort of set the mood and when I returned to their table five minutes later they were still laughing at it. You could tell they didn't get out a lot. 'All thirty nine ordered exactly the same: turkey pie, salad, blueberry cheesecake and iced tea. They were very pleasant, but guarded. When asked where they were from they said things like 'from the car' and 'from all over.' Six days later, employees at the restaurant watched news footage in amazement when they realised the oddball diners they had served had gone straight home and killed themselves. 'It was the last time they were going to be together,' said Morales. 'The bill came to three hundred and fifty one dollars which included a twenty six dollar tip. Our manager was so taken with them, he stood in the doorway and shook hands with each one as they left.' A month before the suicides, DiAngelo decided he wanted to leave the commune. He moved to Beverly Hills, and began working for a web design company. 'I left with Do's permission,' he said/. 'I told him I felt I had something to do outside...like a task. I think part of it was to explain to the world the philosophy of Heaven's Gate and the sort of people they were. Be an instrument of clarification. 'I believed Do was from another planet. He taught me to be more aware, honest and sensitive to the world. In short, a better person. What I gained from the group was phenomenal.

On March 27th, 1997, a parcel arrived at DiAngelo's office. It contained an upbeat farewell video and a message saying: 'By the time you read this we will have exited our bodies.' 'There was no mention of sadness or fear, but rather an air of excitement and anticipation. The cult he called 'his closest brothers and sisters' were aged between 26 and 72 and are believed to have died in three groups - 15 the first day, 15 the next, and nine on the third. In the heat of the Californian spring, many of the bodies had already begun to decompose by the time DiAngelo discovered them. Eager to be helpful, they cleaned up after each round of dying and had even taken out the rubbish. Police found handguns, rifles, and ammunition at the mansion which DiAngelo believed Marshall Applewhite had assembled because he feared a Waco-like siege by the FBI. He had also spent, $1,000 on an insurance policy that would pay out a million dollars each for up to 50 people in the event of abduction by aliens. The company said Heaven's Gate were one of 4,000 policyholders worldwide who had bought alien abduction insurance, with Britain and the USA being their biggest markets. The aftermath of the Heaven's Gate deaths was predictably prosaic. San Diego County planned to auction off their belongings - worth an estimated $1 million and give the proceeds to surviving family members. But  DiAngelo claimed that his brothers and sisters wanted him to inherit the web design firm and announced his intention of settling the matter in court. Neighbours living on the same street as the group campaigned to change it's name after crowds of 'strange visitors'  kept arriving to pray there. And the $1.6 million mansion itself proved unsellable because of it's gruesome associations and the obstinate smell of formaldehyde in its air conditioning. Two months after the suicide pact, two former members of Heaven's Gate also tried to 'exit their earthly vehicles' in a Holiday Inn four miles from the cult's mausoleum. They were dressed and prepared exactly the same as their departed brothers and sisters. One died immediately. The other was found unconscious, and went on to evangelise for the cult, touring the country with a 70-minute video of the bug-eyed Marshall Applewhite. He killed himself the following year in Heaven's Gate style after telling his friends that he would 'rather gamble on missing the bus this time than stay on this planet and risk losing my soul.' DiAngelo went on to apply the computer skills he had learned from Heaven's Gate to his earthly life. He auctioned off the cult's van on eBay and signed a deal to write a TV movie based on his experiences. But the project never got off the ground. A tabloid offered him $1 million for exclusive rights to his story. At the time he refused, preferring to preserve the dignity of his departed friends. Upon reflection, he later said he should have taken the money. 'I've been on a rollercoaster over the last decade,' he said in 2007. 'I still miss my friends so much and I still haven't met anyone who can compare to them. Not a day goes by that I don't think about them. 'I'm the last Heaven's Gate member on Earth, so there must be a reason why I'm still here. But although I still want to live like them, dying like them definitely isn't part of my plan.' DiAngelo re-established contact with his 19 year old son and confessed he was now 'a slave to commerce like everybody else.' Ten years on he was still haunted by the events of that terrible day, but relieved that he didn't join his friends in the mass suicide which shocked the world. The group's website is still maintained by two individuals allegedly surviving members who left after 12 years to get married (forbidden within the group which prized gender-free platonic relationships) prior to the group's exodus to the 'Next Evolutionary Level.' They confirmed in a statement on the 20th anniversary of the mass suicide that Heaven's Gate no longer existed but that the site remained available to those seeking information about their beliefs.

The world's fascination with the extraordinary actions Heaven's Gate undertook is yet to abate...

#Heaven's Gate Cult #Marshall Applewhite #rio diangelo #Richard Fort #Mass Suicide #tcc crime #tcc post #tcc cults #tcc blog #true crime #true crime community #real crime #real deaths #religious cults #dangerous cults #The Serial Killer Chronicles #my blog #follow for more

[bexo-tic]

Breath Play - Spencer Reid X Reader

Spencer Reid X Reader Slow Burn

Season 10 Episode 17

Word Count: 3234

 The sound of heels clicking overwhelms my senses. I can’t believe I’m here, in the BAU office. Sure, I’ve been here plenty of times during my childhood to visit my uncle, but this time I came to work. My heartbeat slows as I take in the familiar smell of coffee brewing. It’s almost nostalgic, reminding me of the times I’d surprise Uncle Aaron with a visit. My heart aches a little as I think of Aunt Haley, but I push the thoughts from my mind. This is my first day and I need everything to be perfect. 

“Y/N,” he smiles warmly as I peek my head into his office. I hadn’t seen Aaron since I left for college, I was too busy working on my degrees. We still called once a week, and that is why it didn’t feel forced or awkward to slide into conversation with him after 8 years.

“Well, everyone is at the table because we have a new case, I can introduce you there.” He leads me out of his office and into a small room filled with only a round table and a screen where the team waits. Their presence makes me nervous. They have all this experience with their job and probably only remember me as Aaron’s little niece if they remember me at all. 

“Team, we have a new intern, Y/N Y/L/N. She’s my niece on Haley’s side.” He clears his throat after mentioning her and I can tell he isn’t as over it as everyone would assume. “This is Derek Morgan, Kate Calahan, Jennifer Jereau, David Rossi, and Spencer Reid. And our Tech Analyst Penelope Garcia.”

“Save the pleasantries, Aaron. She knows me,” David says as he gets up to hug me. The smell of his cologne fills my lungs, but not in an overbearing way. He cups my face in his hands. “You’re all grown up; it’s hard to believe.”

“I don’t think I believe it yet either,” I laugh as I sit down and he goes back to his seat. 

“I hate to interrupt the joy, but we need to get to Wisconsin, also known as the lovely badger state, home of milk and cheese,” Penelope says. She goes into explaining the case and how the bodies of 3 women had been discovered as late as this morning. I tense my body to keep from shivering at the sight of their photos. 

That might be the part that always gets to me, seeing the photos of the victims happy and smiling. I can’t imagine their faces once they realized what was going to happen to them. I watch as they discuss the case, their energy, and ideas building off each other. It happens so smoothly and effortlessly like they aren’t talking about murders. But to them this is normal, maybe they’re a little desensitized to it. 

“Whether he knows the victims or not, he’s hit his stride and he’s not gonna take time to cool off. Wheels up in 30,” Aaron says, distracting me from my thoughts. I grab the “go bag” I left in my uncle’s office which is better described as a suitcase on the edge of exploding. It was my first trip and I didn’t know how long we’d stay so I panic-packed what was probably too much clothing. As I leave the office I bump into something hard. I look up and see Derek.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry. I didn’t even look and-” He holds up a hand to stop my rambling.

“It’s fine, it takes more than a suitcase to knock me down,” he says with a smile. I let out a relieved sigh and he continued talking.

“Rossi says you’re fresh out of college. What degrees do you have?”

“I have a Ph.D. in Psychology and a Masters in Criminal Justice.”

“And you’re how old?”

“26, I just took a lot of summer classes,” I shrug.

“Sounds a little like Reid,” he laughs. “Real smart guy, been here since he was 24. He graduated high school at 12.” I feel my jaw open and quickly try to close it. 

“That’s um- wow.” 

“Insane, I know. Let me help you get to the jet.”

“Yeah, thanks. I was going to ask my uncle where to go.”

“So is having Hotch as an uncle the same as having him as a boss?”

“Mm, I’d say yeah. He’s pretty reserved, but once you’ve known him long enough you can read him like a book. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you, it’s more like he’s too busy thinking to remember to talk to you.”

“Sounds about right,” he chuckles. “Set your bag here and just through that door is the jet.”

“Oh, thanks again for showing me.”

“No problem, Y/N.” He walked onto the plane. It felt strange hearing him call me by my first name when everyone else was referred to by their last name. But maybe I was reading too much into it. It was my first day and we couldn’t have made a bond as he had with everyone else in the 5-minute walk to the jet. I took a deep breath to calm my thoughts and walked through the door.

Already they were discussing the case again. Hearing them bounce ideas off each other and analyze was almost comforting if you forgot they were talking about a murderer. Their dynamic was so in tune like they all held the same vibration. Part of me didn’t want to speak and mess up the flow of the conversation. 

“Alright Dave and Reid, go to the Medical Examiner with Em. Morgan and Kate go to the newest crime scene. JJ and I will interview friends and family at the station,” Aaron announced. My fingertips began to tingle with anticipation. This is happening! A part of me was excited to be here. I’d always admired my uncle when I was younger for putting away the bad guys and here I was beside him. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I tried desperately to calm down. It was my first case and I was determined not to mess this up. I didn’t want Aaron thinking I couldn’t handle this and sending me home, so I was determined to keep a calm demeanor. 

<<< >>>

“Cartilage around the windpipe was damaged, but the COD was actually a crushed trachea,” the examiner says as he leads us to the victims’ bodies. 

“I’m surprised Emma didn’t go into cardiac arrest before then,” Spencer says, looking back at me and David. I nod in agreement because I don’t have anything to counter with. I question why Aaron even sent me with them to the M.E. when I don’t have enough experience to be much help here.

“Nobody has sex for 6 straight hours, not even sting,” David says, pulling my attention back to the report. That’s where it should be. “Maybe he’s interacting with them beforehand.”

“Nonetheless, it’s an endurance test. He’d have to be in pretty great physical shape,” Spencer says. I try to form my own ideas as they talk, to just bring something to the table and not feel like I’m useless and watching from the sidelines. 

“Well, do you think strangulation is just the dispatching method, then?” David asks.

“Erotic asphyxiation,” I call from behind them. They both turn to look at me and I feel my heart move up my throat. “I mean, the bruising from repeated strangling and releasing is similar to that.”

“If that’s the case, isn't the pleasure usually all for the recipient?”

“Maybe not for him,” Spencer answers. “Cutting off his victim’s air supply might be how he satisfies his own urges.” 

I sigh, I might have just contributed something. I don't want them to think I can’t do anything to help. My eyes wander to the other victims. She has the same bruising as the other victim except her hair is blonde, Donna Rayburn. She almost looks like me, but her eyes are blue, not the dark brown I got from my dad. Noticing all our similarities makes me itch and I feel exposed. I jump when a hand touches my back.

“Hey, we’re heading back to discuss everything with the team,” David says. “Are you alright?”

I can feel Spencer’s eyes burning into me from behind, he’s not very good at acting like he isn’t listening to our conversation. I can’t help but wonder if he thinks I’m even qualified to be here; his intelligence is a little intimidating. He could probably profile circles around me.

“I’m fine, just nervous. First day jitters,” I smile in what I hope is a convincing way. David leads me to the car and I sit in the back on the way to the station. Looking out the window keeps me distracted and I let my mind wander. I wonder how the people who live here feel about the news. Everyone says “It could never happen here”, but somehow it always does.

“Six hours is a long time, especially late at night, for someone to be held and no one to hear anything,” Aaron says as David, Spencer and I make it to the table. Again they delved into a conversation trying to connect the victims. So far, the only thing they had in common was their interactions with the unsub. After what seemed like hours of discussion, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and got up to find coffee. 

I found my way to a small kitchen with two coffee pots in it. I grabbed a guest mug and poured in the steaming liquid, leaving enough room for the cream and sugar packets on the counter. A voice behind me makes me jump.

“Did you know Hawaii is the only state in the U.S. that grows coffee?” I turn and find Spencer standing there with his thermos in his hands.

“Um no?”

“Yeah, the ideal coffee growing conditions require high altitudes, rich soil, and tropical climates.”

“Do you start every conversation off with facts?” I ask with a laugh.

“Mostly,” he smiles. “Oh, and I wouldn’t drink that coffee if I were you. Hotch just said we’re heading back to the hotel and regrouping in the morning.” 

I checked the time on my phone, 11:33 PM. No wonder I was so tired, with the jet ride and busy day we had. The ride to the hotel felt like it lasted a few minutes, so I must have dozed off in the car. Aaron handed me the key to my room which I shared with JJ. I barely had time to shower before I fell asleep in the white sheets of the bed.

<<< >>>

I couldn’t believe the unsub killed again last night. I knew he would kill again, but it didn’t feel right that I hadn’t noticed. How did we all fall asleep so easily when the murderer we were trying to find had claimed a new victim? And here I was walking around Lynn Boyd’s house as everyone scurried around for evidence. I find my way into her bedroom.

“The bindings, the silk scarf, the rough sex. He’s using ‘Bare Reflections’ to choose his victims,” Rossi says. Finally, another step forward. Last night we concluded the unsub would be a married man, but it didn’t give us much to go off of. A call to Garcia would help us understand more.

‘If this book is mainstream, then his victim pool is large.”

“Garica, did any of the other victims besides Lynn own a copy?” JJ asks.

“Mary Healy had it on her tablet. Donna Rayburn checked it out from the library twice. Emma and Lynn both purchased copies locally.”

Although the book tied our victims together, who even knew how many other married women in the comfort zone owned the book as well. The list of possible targets would be too long to help us tie it back to the unsub.

“And- hey, a lot of the saucy texts are direct quotes from the book,” Garcia says. “Oh! Speaking of texts, I culled them from that he met Mary via message board, Donna at a coffee shop, Emma at the gym, and Lynn, he met Lynn using a fake profile on a discreet dating website for married people.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Rossi said, ending the call.

“Profile?” JJ asked. He nodded in response. The ride back to the station passed in a blink. Maybe it was the satisfaction I was feeling. My fingertips tingled because we were so close to finally catching this guy.

“Based on area demographics, we believe that we’re looking for a physically fit white male in his mid-30s to early 40s,” Aaron starts.

“He’s a homicidal dominant with an interest in role-play,” Callahan continues. They build off each other so smoothly, and the rest of the team keeps it going.

“We believe his charisma has allowed him to latch onto women who are interested in a popular erotic romance novel called ‘Bare Reflections’.”

“In it, a sheltered female teacher falls for a handsome mogul with a dark past who forces her into a submissive role.”

“Despite her initial worries, Amber Stone finds she can’t live without Carson Bare, warts and all.”

“We believe the unsub and his victims are consensually recreating a scenario from this book.”

“In that scene, Carson introduces Amber to BDSM by binding her to a bed as they have rough sex.”

“The unsub uses this role play to get his victims into a vulnerable position before his fantasy takes hold.”

”This has provided the unsub with a victim pool who have dropped their guard.” 

“His first victims were single, but his last two were married. This escalation indicates that he may be married himself and probably has a family.”

“This unsubs M.O. takes patience and caution, and is firmly rooted in a need-based desire, which means he won’t be stopping anytime soon. Thank you.” Aaron says, ending the profile presentation. I look back at the crime scene photos trying to piece together the puzzle. I notice Reid quickly skimming through the pages of “Bare Reflections”. 

“Are you even reading it?” I ask.

“I can read 20,000 words per minute, so yes.” He doesn't even have to look up when he responds.

“Robot,” I say under my breath as I roll my eyes, but from his smirk, I can tell he heard me.

“There’s not a single mention of erotic asphyxiation anywhere,” he says as Rossi and a detective approach us.

“It’s the unsub’s fetish then.” Rossi’s brows furrow. 

“He’s a charmer that knows that some people lose themselves in the moment and others stop at nothing to please their partners,” my thoughts come out loud as I walk towards them. “Somehow he makes his victims feel safe enough to abandon their hard limit.”

“What’s a hard limit?” the detective asks.

“It’s a common BDSM practice. Hard limits are anything that’s an automatic no-go. It differs by person and taste,” Rossi states.

“And a soft limit is an in which a submissive hesitates or places strict conditions on,” Reid pipes up.

“I had no idea that world had so many regulations. Where does he find somebody like-minded?”

“In “Bare Reflections”, Carson Bare takes Amber to an event called a munch.”

“Which is?”

“According to the book, it’s a social gathering for people interested in BDSM.”

“Where the heck do you find that?”

“We should call Garcia.” Reid nods at Rossi.

“I found one,” he says, showing his simple google search. While Rossi and Callahan go to the munch, the rest of us stay behind to go over the case files.

<<< >>>

“He knew crossing state lines would make it more difficult to link the crimes,” Aaron says about the three prostitute murders Garcia has just brought up. 

“That’s a very different cooling-off period. I wonder what was so special about those dates,” Detective Pierce questions. Reid grabs an expo marker and turns to the nearest board.

“First kills were in 2000, 2007, and then he went dormant until last year. What triggers him?” He writes all the dates on the board.

“Deaths in the family,” Aaron asks.

“He could keep losing jobs?”

“These are sex crimes so what interferes with sex drive? Children,” Callahan offers. “The addition of a child would disrupt even the happiest of couples.”

“More specifically the births,” Reid nods and you can see the gears in his head turning. “What if each of these kills corresponds to the births of the unsub’s own children?”

“Garcia, how many men in the hunting zone had a child in 2000?”

“16 and because I already know what the follow-up question is going to be, 5 had their second child 8 years ago, and two had their third last year.”

“Were either one of them busted for something like peeping or exposure?” I ask.

“Yes and no, there's a Patrick Jon Murphy. He’s a physical therapist, here’s the thing he was never actually arrested. I do have some sealed family court docs, though, that I’m about to unseal and learn … Oh, when he was 12, he witnessed his neighbor strangle his wife to death in a sex game gone bad.”

“Even though he was only a witness, that moment created a single event imprint on his love map and probably started his interest in breath play.”

“Is his wife interested in BDSM?”

“Uh, no, doesn’t look like it. The Murphy’s have been in and out of couple’s therapy for years.”

“The therapy roller coaster may have been due to intermittent periods of frustration then bliss surrounding the murders.”

“And his urges increase during periods of non-intimacy.”

“If the unsub’s trigger was the birth of his kids, why change the victimology and accelerate the kills now?” I ask.

“I think the guilt he’s felt has been alleviated by ‘Bare Reflections’, and the intense female interest in it has justified his impulses,” Reid answers. Our phones beep as Garcia sends us his address and we race out the door. His house isn’t even that far from the station, it’s crazy that he’s been under our noses the whole time. JJ and Reid come out of the house looking defeated.

“He’s at the nanny’s house, we’ve gotta move!” We don't even have time to buckle up before we're barreling down the road. When we arrive at the house I can see a girl standing at the front door. 

"You two take the front of the house, I'm going around back," Morgan declares. I can see him run after the unsub on foot as Callahan grabs the girl inside the house. That must be his daughter. The rest of us storm inside, clearing each room as we make our way through the house. Calls from upstairs lead us into the bedroom where we find a woman tied to her bed. Immediately we untie her as a medic comes in to check her out.

<<<   >>>

“So, how was your first case?” Aaron asks as he sits across from me on the jet.

“Um, intense,” I nod and he laughs. “But I really enjoyed helping solve it.”

“I knew you had it in you.” He squeezes my hand. “Want some coffee?”

“No thanks, I’m gonna try to sleep before we land.” I curl into my chair and try to let the tension release from my body as I fall asleep.

#spencer x you #spencer reid #criminal minds #derek morgan #david rossi #kate callahan #jennifer jereau #aaron hotch hotchner #penelope garcia #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader

[kiseki-no-scenarios]

could you do a scenario where gom+himuro go to the mall etc with their s/o and somehow they get separated for a while without the s/o noticing. suddenly s/he hears an announcement being made “attentionto ___, please pick up your child at the counter” and sees their bf being all pouty that s/he left him behind. I saw a tweet and was inspired! thank you so much :))

Pfft I laughed out loud at this request…I can totally see some of the GOM members just doing it to be petty! Hope you enjoy, anon!

Also some of these are a bit crack-ish…I feel like I’ve been writing some serious things lately so just needed to let go of some mischievous energy~

Reader being paged overhead to pick up GOM at the lost child station

Akashi

You loved going out shopping with Akashi, but your lover could be too much sometimes.

Akashi seemed to have difficulty understanding the concept of “window shopping”; if you even looked at someone for longer than a glance, he’d be ready to call the nearest store associate over to purchase said item.

That led to an awkward discussion in which you insisted that you really didn’t have any burning desire to purchase the item, and it was often hard to convince Akashi that no, you were not lying, and yes, you were being completely honest with him.

It still didn’t stop the fact that sometimes things would just “coincidentally” end up on your desk at school, little gifts that you knew were from a certain redhead.

Wanting to repay the favor, you watched him intensely during the current shopping trip, finally managing to escape away with an excuse about needing to use the restroom.

It was a bit harder to dodge the bodyguards, but a quick dart into the lingerie section took care of that, the sight of lace and negligee even a bit too much for the most stoic bodyguards to be brave enough to step through

You were picking out a lovely silk tie accompanied by a silver tie pin, just having retrieved it from the clerk after you purchased it when you heard it.

“Attention _____, please come pick up your child at the nearest security booth. Attention _____…”

You stomped over to the nearest security booth, apologies already prepared for the frazzled women that was glancing nervously between you and Akashi

Not even a hint of embarrassment betrayed Akashi’s face as he looked calmly over at you, his arms crossed in front of him.

“Seijuro, did you really need to do that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, _____.” Akashi stated, raising one perfect eyebrow at you. “You left me behind, and thus I employed an available resource to have us reunited.”

You wondered how much trouble you’d get in if you strangled Akashi instead with the new tie you had just bought.

Midorima

You’d left Midorima to his own devices at the bookstore, having picked out the necessary textbooks for the upcoming semester at school

You were browsing in the manga section, satiating your inner fujioshi as you ducked behind the displays, eagerly flipping through the new volumes available from your favorite manga artist

You’d never admit it, but one of the characters looked so much like your boyfriend, and was even a tsundere too!

It was hard to keep back your fan girlish squeals as you tucked the new releases into your shopping cart, knowing that it’d take Midorima a bit longer to finish browsing the study guides section

Your inner thirst momentarily sated, you walked up to your favorite clerk as you passed over the goodies, her face mirroring your smile as the two of you gushed over your findings

It was nice to find someone who understood, especially since you couldn’t ever imagine asking Midorima to discuss such books of such indecent nature with you

You could picture your carrot-kun in your mind saying that, but part of you wondered how adorable it’d be to see him blushing if you forced him to read the manga along with you…something you’d definitely have to consider in the future, of course

“Attention _____, your lost child is waiting for you at the security booth outside the bookstore. Attention _____…”

You quickly finish checking out, racing over with your books in hand as you come across one (1) blushing carrot and one (1) smirking, hawk-eyed basketball player

“Yo, _____-chan!” Takao waved. “I found Shin-chan for you!”

“Aww, Shin-tan, did you get lost?” You peer into Midorima’s eyes, laughing at the disgusted look on his face. “Don’t worry, I’m here now~”

“W-What nonsense, Takao simply dragged me here for no good reason!!” Midorima stuttered

You decided that it would be best to lead your green-haired boyfriend away, lest he be arrested for assault in the middle of the mall.

Aomine

“I wonder if they’ll pop if I stab them hard enough…” You muttered under your breath, sick and tired of the female staff that was hanging off of Aomine’s arm, her breasts pushed up directly against his arm in the middle of the store. There were no way that those things were real, with how perfectly round they looked…

You’d underestimated just how devoted Aomine was to lingerie, of all things. When you mentioned going shopping for some unmentionables during the weekend, he’d invited himself along. To give you an objective perspective, of course.

So why was it that he was surrounded by a gaggle of females, instead of being his usual perverted self and coming up to you with all sorts of scandalous suggestions??

Clearing your throat loudly, you stepped up to your boyfriend, gently (or at least you tried to bed) prying off the hands of the girl that was clinging to him like a barnacle.

“Excuse me, but I think we’ve got enough assistance here.” You used the most sugar sweet voice you could manage, taking Aomine’s hand and not even hiding the fact that you rested his palm against the swell of your breast. “Babe, help me find something in my size?” You asked innocently, peering up at Aomine through your lashes as you pushed your chest against his hand.

Your display of possession finally chased away the mean old biddies as you began pushing Aomine out the door, ignoring his protests. “Babe, cmon…”

“Jeez Daiki, you can at least pretend to not notice.” You pout, sitting him down outside the store. “Wait here while I go finish buying this stuff!”

You hadn’t even had a few moments to yourself when the announcement paged overhead, hearing your name being called out to pick up your….child…from the security booth.

Aomine had a shit-eating grin on his face when you marched up to him, huffing and puffing. “Sorry _____, I just couldn’t wait. Besides…”

You yelped as he grabbed you by your butt, pulling you in as he not-so-subtly grinded himself against your hip. “I have to pay you back for making you mad, hm? This is all for you, babe.”

Kise

You weren’t sure what you had been thinking when you thought that for once, the two of you could enjoy a nice, private, shopping trip to the mall.

It seemed like all of his fans were coming out of the woodwork, in droves as they lunged for your boyfriend, stopping him every moment for autographs and pictures.

You liked that Kise was kind to his fans, but sometimes, enough was enough.

You finally gave up after you were pushed to the side of the crowd, deciding to take a break to go through the newest magazines that had hit the shelves.

Grabbing the nearest one, you discovered an article on said boyfriend as you read it with interest, blushing a bit at the embarrassing pose he had on in the picture.

It was an article about love and relationships, and you read his answers to the interview questions eagerly. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the way he answered-your relationship couldn’t go public just yet, but it was obvious at least to your eyes that he was talking about you.

There was no need for you to feel insecure about your relationship with him, you thought. You were just about to put the magazine back on the rack when you heard your name being called overhead, asking you to pick up your child from the security office.

One quick checkout later, you were running to the stop when you came across a very familiar figure-even covered in hats, sunglasses, and wrapped up in scarfs like a mummy, you’d be able to recognize Kise anywhere.

“_____-cchi!!” Kise whined, tackling you right as you came into his sight. “Where were you?!?!”

“What are you wearing, Ryouta?!” You asked, quickly unwrapping the scarves that covered his face. “Aren’t you hot underneath all of that?!”

“But we finally had some time together, and I had to figure out something!” Kise replied, tears coming to his eyes as he latched onto you. “Sorry for making you jealous, _____-cchi!!!”

“I wasn’t jealous-“

“Wait, what is that?!” Kise grabbed the magazine out of your hand before you could react, before he turned to you with a pout. “_____-cchi! Do you like my picture more than me?!?! I’m the real thing!!!”

You couldn’t even blame the staff for calling Kise your child, with his crocodile tears and the way he was stubbornly clinging to you while you tried to calm the blonde-haired model down, assuring him that no, you were not going to leave him for a picture of him at a photoshoot.

Murasakibara

Big pouty baby here, 1000000%. When I first got the request, the first person that popped into my mind was our dear Murasakibara

You were visiting him in Akita for the weekend, but the rest of the Yosen basketball team had all demanded to meet up with you too on the outing

Murasakibara was first able to be tamed with snacks as he watched you handing Okamura tissues, listening to him cry his heart out to you about his recent relationship troubles. Then you were scolding Fukui for being mean to Okamura. Liu had somehow started a conversation with you too, and you were busy trying to decipher his speech, while updating Himuro on Kagami’s latest news and how he was starting (just barely) to tolerate Nigou at practice.

Even his coach had gotten involved, and Murasakibara had pouted when you agreed to meet with her for sushi, the two of you forming a bond over how to deal with Murasakibara whenever he got too spoiled or was acting up.

Finally having enough, Murasakibara walked away, crunching the bag of potato chips in his hands. I’m going to crush them all…how dare they take all of _____-chin’s time…

You had just managed to get Okamura to stop crying when you heard your name being called overhead, your brow furrowing in confusion at the odd announcement.

It wasn’t until you were looking around and hearing Himuro commenting about how Murasakibara had wandered off that you’d run over to the security booth, meeting with one very pouty, very upset purple-haired titan.

“I definitely don’t recall giving birth to someone so large, Atsushi.” You commented, tilting your head as you tried to coax Murasakbara into bending down so you could pat his head. “What’s wrong?”

Murasakibara only huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest as his purple locks hid his face. “Not fair…Not fair, _____-chin. I thought I was important to you.”

“You are, Atsushi!”

“But you’re not paying attention to me.” You couldn’t help but giggle at Murasakibara’s childish whine, his cheeks puffing up as he full on pouted. “_____-chin is mine, and I’ll crush anyone else.”

“Atsu-channnn.” You hugged Murasakibara around his waist, peering up at him as you rubbed your face against his arms. “You’re so cute, and I love you~ I promise to make all your favorites tonight, okay?”

Himuro

Definitely just gets lost because pretty boy has absolutely no sense of direction at all

One moment he was following along with you, just happy to listen to you chattering on as you led him through the mall

But he’d gotten distracted for a moment, catching sight of a pretty necklace in the window of a jewelry store

It’d look nice against your skin, Himuro thought, but when he turned around to catch your attention, he blinked when he realized you were gone.

Himuro walked a bit more, but realized that all it was doing was making him more confused as he circled around the same area twice, looking absolutely lost.

He’d been standing in the same area for several moments, pretending that he knew what he was doing, staring at the map of the mall posted on a kiosk in the center of the hall when a passing security guard finally stopped to ask if he needed help

Himuro felt embarrassed as he admitted the situation that he’d found himself in, and he covered half his face with the palm of his hand as the announcement played overhead, asking for you to pick up your child in front of the security booth.

“Tatsuya, you had me so worried!!”

Himuro apologized profusely to you as he saw the beads of sweat on your forehead. “_____, why are you so sweaty…?”

“Because I was looking for you, silly!” You stuck your tongue out at your boyfriend as you flicked him in the forehead, ignoring his soft “ow” that left his lips. “You have a phone, don’t you?”

Himuro had indeed totally forgotten that he did have a cell phone on him.

“Cellular mobile devices are helpful for contacting someone when you can’t find them, in case you didn’t know.” You lectured him, and even though he was being scolded, Himuro couldn’t help but think you were so adorable, the way your cheeks were puffed up like a squirrel.

“Sorry, sorry.” Pulling you close, he kissed you on the forehead, ignoring your protests that you were super sweaty and gross. “Thanks for finding me, _____. I’ll make sure to hold onto your hand tight the next time so I don’t get lost, okay?”

---

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[narukoibito]

charity work

Wow, so I wrote a published a thing after 10+ years away from fanfiction. Please check it out if you’re so inclined!

Summary: He'd only meant it as a joke, but here she was. Ginny Weasley, his celebrity crush, armed with economy toilet paper rolls and three dozen eggs, ready to commit a misdemeanor all in the name of charity. Muggle AU Harry/Ginny

Tumblr prompt: "You're famous and I jokingly left a comment on your social media post asking if you'll go egg my ex-partner's house with me this weekend, and I never actually expected you to respond, let alone show up Friday night with dark sweatshirts, toilet paper rolls, and three egg cartons tucked under your arm" & hp_fangal's version where Harry is the famous one, Shooting for the Stars.

FF.net | AO3

Harry flopped onto the couch with a loud sigh, letting his bag slide carelessly to the ground. Sirius popped his head out from the kitchen.

“You alright there, Harry?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled from his dejected position.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and turned to Hermione, who lifted her head up from her book for a moment to give Harry a disapproving look.

“He’s been brooding all week,” she announced.

“Cho?” he asked knowingly.

“He hasn’t said, but…Cho,” Hermione nodded.

Harry made a rude gesture at his childhood best friend and godfather, who sniffed disdainfully and chortled respectively.

Yes, it was indeed his girlfriend — sorry, ex-girlfriend — who was once again souring his mood, but Sirius and Hermione didn’t know yet. He hadn’t had the heart to tell them that he’d caught her cheating on him with none other than Cedric Diggory. Not only had Cedric taken Harry’s position as a starter on the school team when Harry tore his ACL several months back, but then the recruiters who had originally come to see Harry had taken a shine to Cedric, and now several teams were making him offers. Hermione and Sirius had been going on for months about how Cho wasn’t being particularly supportive during Harry’s recovery period, but Harry had waved them off. Turns out they were more right than he could have imagined, and he simply could do without the knowing and pitying looks.

“This’ll cheer you up,” Sirius said, walking over to the wireless.

“I think something’s burning,” Harry grumbled as Sirius flicked through several stations. Sirius let out a yelp and jumped back to the kitchen, but not without first finding what he was looking for.

“Now tell me, Miss Weasley,” an unctuous female voice crowed, “about your victories off the pitch.”

Despite himself, Harry perked up. Ginny Weasley was his favorite football starter since she made a huge splash going pro at the young age of sixteen — and immediately proved her worth by leading her team to victory at her first game. He may or may not have several posters of her hanging in his closet.

“Oh you heard that I cook the meanest eggplant dish on the team?” Ginny’s sweet voice lilted over the wireless. When Harry laughed, Hermione peered at him over her book again, amused.

“That’s a very…lovely quality, my dear, but no, my avid listeners want to know all about your tumultuous love life. We all know how much you enjoy playing the field…”

Harry let out an ungraceful snort.

“I did always like playing with balls, yes,” Ginny quipped. “I’m pretty good at kicking them, so they say.”

The reporter cleared her throat loudly. “Too true. I believe one of your past paramours was reportedly found writhing on the floor when you parted ways.”

“Oh no, that was simply a handsy fan who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of ‘no,’” Ginny corrected her dryly.

“Your latest lover, Puddlemere team’s Michael Corner, and you seem to have had a bit of a nasty split,” the reporter’s voice oozed with false sympathy. “The photos of him and his assistant, Lavender Brown, in a passionate embrace —”

“You mean snogging in the dark corner of a bar?”

“Oh this must be so difficult for you,” the reporter sniffed. “You seem to have such trouble holding onto a man — they seem to prefer more feminine women over your company! Tell me, does it have to do with your being raised with six older brothers? Perhaps the rowdiness of such a boisterous family environment was not conducive for healthy relationships with men?”

Harry threw a stray cushion at the wireless, but from his horizontal position, he missed.

“Miss Skeeter, I’m not sure how my upbringing has anything to do with my boyfriends deciding to be cheating gits rather than about being forthcoming about their feelings.”

“Of course, dear. Please, tell our listeners as such a seasoned veteran, how you cope with heartbreak, especially when you uncover such deceit?”

“I’m a big fan of karma. People tend to find that what comes around goes around.”

“So mature of you.”

“And if they wake up with their house egged and teepeed, let’s hope they realize the error of their ways.”

Harry could picture Ginny’s trademark mischievous smile, and he felt his own lips curling up.

“Surely, Miss Weasley, you aren’t condoning such a crime?”

“All hypothetical, Miss Skeeter. But who am I to complain if the universe takes it upon itself to serve justice? Having grown up with my brothers, I find that anything is possible if you have enough nerve.”

As the interview wound to an end, Harry felt inexplicably lighter. He even managed to shift himself to a sitting position and found himself scrolling through Ginny Weasley’s public Instagram profile. He was momentarily distracted by a recent posting of her sticking her tongue out at the camera while cuddling with a kitten, where she alerted her fans to tune into her upcoming interview with the radio host of Me, Myself, and I.

He punched in a simple message in the comments: Caught my girlfriend snogging my replacement on my uni’s football team while I was supposed to be convalescing, and now I want to help push karma along the way this Friday. Care to lend a hand?

“You’re looking better,” Sirius observed, popping his head back into the living room.

Harry tossed his phone to the side and smiled. “Is dinner even edible anymore?”

During dinner (extra “crispy” chicken Sirius calls it, mashed potatoes, and vegetables), Harry finally caved in and told Sirius and Hermione what happened. They were so outraged on his behalf, it actually dulled his own anger enough for him to admit he was difficult to be around while he recovered, and he was probably not the best boyfriend at the time. They wouldn’t hear any of it though.

After Hermione headed home and Sirius to his study, Harry receded to his room where he took a moment to appreciate his hidden poster. Then he headed to the shower, where he may or may not have decided to relax by picturing a particularly sassy redhead. When his head hit his pillow, he immediately drifted off to a pleasant, dreamless sleep.

--

Harry let out a big yawn as he rose from his last class of the day. He paused to stretch out his right leg, which had a tendency of getting stiff after sitting too long post-surgery.

As his classmates trickled out, he whipped out his phone, already pondering where to grab take-out for his solo night in since Sirius was planning an evening out (don’t expect me home tonight). A red notification blared out at him, which was odd considering his rare use and minuscule follower-ship on Instagram. He clicked on it, wondering if someone commented on his recent post of Sirius with a big, black shaggy dog.

It was a message from…

The phone nearly slipped out of his hand.

Ginny Weasley? Bringing the phone closer to his face, he stared at the message beside her smirking profile picture.

I’m in. When and where?

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. Was he dreaming? His celebrity crush since he was seventeen, the one he had just wanked to two days ago (and countless times over the years), wanted to help him egg and teepee his ex’s place?

After a moment’s hesitation, he began punching in the details of the closest station to Cho’s.

Meet around 10?

His thumb hovered over the send button. What did he have to lose? He pressed down. He swallowed hard as three hovering dots appeared.

See you soon.

“Fuck,” Harry said aloud to an empty classroom.

--

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. Maybe someone had hacked into her account and was just having a lark. Maybe he was going to be mugged on arrival.

“Yes, that must be it,” he assured himself as he ascended the stairs to the front of the station.

“Are you H-P-Lightening?”

Harry looked around and nearly tripped over the last step. For a second, he thought he might have been right about being mugged, given the hooded figure that appeared on his right. But the figure pushed back her hood, and fiery gold-and-red hair spilling out like a curtain.

It was her. Ginny Weasley.

Standing in front of him in an oversized hoodie, a bag of toilet paper (economy size, she didn’t skimp), and several cartons of eggs. Her brown eyes glinted with mischief, and her lips were curled up in her devil-may-care smirk. She was close enough that he could not only make out the splattering of attractive freckles across her face, but he could catch what seemed to be the sweet smell of flowers.

“Er —” was all Harry could manage.

She arched an eyebrow. “You’re not him?”

“No — I mean, yes, I am. That’s me. Harry Potter.”

Her smile brightly. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Yeah, nice,” he said stupidly. “I’m a huge fan. I didn’t think, er, I never thought —”

“I seem to be a terrible influence,” Ginny laughed, and the way it made her nose crinkle sent shivers down Harry’s spine. “Since I put the idea in your head, the least I could do was help out and prevent you from getting caught.”

“Do you always rescue brokenhearted blokes on your public profile?”

“Only the really particularly pathetic ones,” she grinned back. “My publicist is always encouraging me to take on more charity work.”

“Smart,” Harry nodded sagely. “It’s good to engage with the people from time to time. Humanize you.”

She was laughing again, and he felt ridiculously chuffed that he was making Ginny Weasley of all people laugh. It did loads for his self-esteem considering Cho was always either bemused or offended by his snarky remarks.

“Exactly,” she said, holding out an extra hoodie for him. He thanked her and pulled it over this head, reminding himself that he shouldn’t be so pleased that they were matching. As he took some of the supplies from her, and they began walking, she continued, “I don’t know, your comment kind of stuck out to me.”

He glanced at her when she seemed to hesitate and was surprised when she quickly looked away, a bit of color on her cheeks.

“And the fact that you didn’t give off any stalker murder vibes was a plus.”

He laughed. “But really, thank you,” Harry said. “I was, er, brooding, as my friends and family like to call it because of Cho, and your interview cheered me up — the way you didn’t let that awful reporter get under your skin was truly something else.”

“Ah yes, Rita Skeeter,” Ginny smiled stonily. “Should have known better than to bet against my twin brothers.”

“Bet?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t believe them when they said Michael, my now notorious ex, was shifty. Swore it wasn’t true, and they bet I’d have to go on Skeeter’s show if I was wrong. They constantly goad me about my poor judgment in men, which was really what got me riled up enough to take them on. Then a week later, I caught Michael doing some yoga with his new assistant. ‘Course they tried really hard to explain why they were working on her downward dog naked.”

Harry grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said airily. “He was a prat. If he’d just broken up with me like a decent human being, I wouldn’t have had to deal with all the latest tabloids. Besides,” she glanced at him curiously, “seems like I wasn’t the only one who’s had some bad luck with romance lately.”

“Ah yes, my tale of woe. I caught my ex snogging the guy who took my starter position after I tore my ACL. All around the time when there were recruiters coming around. Her timing and choice couldn’t have been better.”  

“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand touching his arm. He felt heat shoot through him.

“Ah, it’s not really fun hanging around a depressed sod.” One side of his mouth twisted up with a touch of bitterness. “She didn’t much enjoy my moods.”

Ginny snorted. “Right, because what mattered then was her having fun.”

Harry shrugged. Aside from some awkward, fumbling, and a bit sloppy kisses, he wasn’t really sure how much fun Cho seemed to have around him. She’d always been trying to get him to talk about his feelings, like about his parents or how terrible he felt about his injury or the lost his dream opportunity to go pro. Her insistence often made him clam up or shut down.

Ginny started asking him questions about his uni and his team, and soon they were chatting like old friends about football strategies and tactics, favorite moves, new players with potential. It was very possible he revealed just how well he knew her team’s stats, but if she noticed, she graciously doesn’t comment.

“Here we are,” he realized, skidding to a stop in front of a blue house. Ginny pulled him back behind a tree. He peered at her curiously, but she was scanning the quiet street and the house.

“Doesn’t seem like anyone is home,” she announced.

“There was a game today, with a party that tends to go pretty late.”

“Well isn’t that perfect?” She smiled at him as she pulled the hood back over her head, and he mirrored her motion.

With remarkable coordination and teamwork considering they didn’t speak a word but rather communicate with meaningful glances and stifled laughter, they began decorating the bushes, garden, porch, trees, and roof with toilet paper. Then they returned to the pavement with the egg cartons.

“Care to go first, Harry?” Ginny asked, a softness in her eyes despite her artful tossing and catching an egg with ease.

He picked up an egg and hesitated. The anger and betrayal churned through him, but there was a part of him that still wondered if maybe he should let it go.

“Hm, worried you’re unable to throw from here?” she asked casually, her eyes flashing with mischief.

Was that a challenge? She gave him an assessing glance before turning to the house.

“Maybe you don’t think you can hit that awful thing,” she said, pointing at a crow sticker attached to a window, grinning wickedly.

“Watch it, Weasley,” Harry said roughly. He wound his arm back and with impressive accuracy, hit the crow sticker on the window. “Hah!”

“Seemed a bit aggressive there,” she laughed.

“That thing always gave me the creeps,” he admitted sheepishly, remembering how the shadow of the crow seemed to follow him in that room. “Now then, you may be a great starter, but what about your arm aim?”

Her egg splattered noisily right at the center of the door.

“If we only conditioned our legs, we’d be pretty lopsided.”

He laughed as they continued to goad each other with more and more difficult places. But soon, they began to throw with more ferocity, each seeming to exorcise some past demons.

His egg cracked against the porch stair where she first kissed him in the rain.

“I wish she had never kissed me.”

Her egg smashed against a different window.

“I wish I had broken things off when he kept pestering me about wearing more dresses.”

Another cracked against the roof.

“Wish I hadn’t pushed myself too far for those stupid recruiters!”

One landed against the door handle.

“What does my love life have to do with how I play, Skeeter?”

As they went through the eggs, they spouted all the things wrong with their previous relationships before moving to other frustrations until all three cartons of eggs were empty, and the house was a comically gooey, papered mess.

Harry dragged a hand through his tousled hair, dazed by how much better he felt. He met Ginny’s eye and warmed at the sight of her flushed cheeks and pleased smile. She reached out and took his hand, and without a word, he let her draw him away, leaving the tangled mess of feelings about Cho and his doomed football career behind. Her hand in his felt like the only real thing in the world.

They walked together, hand-in-hand, in comfortable silence back to the station. As they drew closer, he grew nervous and turned to face her.

“Thank you, Ginny,” he blurted earnestly.

“You’re welcome. It was really fun,” she said. She seemed to hesitate for the first time the entire evening, looking over his shoulder.

Panic shot through him — was this it? Would he ever see her again?

“Actually,” she said slowly, “I rode here. I could give you a lift if you like, instead of taking the train.”

“Rode?” He echoed, turning to follow her gaze. His mouth dropped open. There, parked surreptitiously, was a gleaming motorcycle. “Bloody hell, Sirius will love you.”

“Sirius?”

“Um, my godfather. He’s got a thing for motorcycles. Treats his like it’s a national treasure,” he explained, blushing. “I’ve been riding them since he took me in.”

Something shifted in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly that he may have imagined it. Back was the shining amusement.

“Well then, I take it you’re not afraid of a bit of speed.” She wound around him towards her ride. She opened the storage unit and tossed him a helmet. “You’ve always got to make sure you have a nifty getaway vehicle.”

“See, this is why I enlisted an expert.”

He provided her his address, and after a quick search on her phone, she mentioned she was familiar with the area. It turned out he lived close to an old friend of hers, a Luna Lovegood, who was responsible for those quirky magazines about mythical creatures that Sirius always got a hoot out of and Hermione would turn her head disapprovingly from.

Helmet secure, Ginny hopped on and looked at him expectantly. He slipped on his helmet and sat behind her. He floundered, wondering where he should grip the seat.

“You better hold onto me.” Her voice was muffled in her helmet, but it sounded crystal clear to him. “Wouldn’t want the next headliner to be how I killed a man by not practicing safety.”

“Right — hardly a way to repay you.” He tentatively slid tantalizingly closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. God she was fit. “That, ah, safe enough?”

Ginny nodded jerkily. “Yep, that’s great.”

She lifted her left leg, kicked into gear, and soon they were roaring through the winding roads of London.

Harry loved to feel the wind whip around him and the familiar rumbling underneath him. It made him feel like he was flying. But damn Ginny wasn’t kidding when she liked it fast, and he found himself gripping her a little tighter than he had expected but enjoying every moment of it — the feel on her in his arms, the elevated rush of adrenaline due to her speed. Watching the buildings, streets, and vehicles go by in a blur of lights made the night feel magical.

All too soon, Ginny was pulling up in front of his home. He hastily pulled away, hoping that his graceless way of removing his helmet would disguise his blush. She made it seem so effortless when she pulled her helmet off and threw her head back, her hair cascading down her shoulders. They smiled at each other, not sure what to say, but he didn’t want the night to end. Harry couldn’t believe his luck, and maybe he shouldn’t push it, but when else was the universe going to wink in his direction?

“Would you like to come up?” He cringed. “I can make you a cup of tea, I mean — as a sincere thank you for being both my partner in crime and my savior.”

He braced himself for the rejection.

“Oh,” she said, sounding both surprised and breathless. “Yes. That sounds nice.”

Harry led her inside, nervously watching her glance around the cottage. “It belonged to my parents.”

“It’s lovely,” Ginny smiled, walking over to the mantle.

“It’s a good thing that Sirius isn’t home — he probably wouldn’t stop pestering us if he were.” He scrambled to tidy some of the papers and books on the coffee table.

“Is that him?” she asked, pointing to a photo of Sirius with a ten-year-old Harry in his arms. Harry was laughing really hard, his wire-frame glasses knocked askew, and Sirius’s attention was completely on Harry, a wide grin on his face and affection shining in his eyes. It was one of Harry’s favorite photos, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about Ginny seeing him when he was a bespectacled, scrawny boy.

“Yes,” he said, as she continued to gaze at the photo thoughtfully. “Er, kitchen?”

She let him lead her away. “Your home is a lot cleaner than my parents’ place. Though I suppose that isn’t too difficult to achieve. I have six older brothers and all.”

“Sounds nice. It’s just been Sirius and me, sometimes a dog — he can never resist a stray — and occasionally my pseudo uncle when he needs a place to crash.”

She pulled the dark hoodie over her head, and his breath hitched when her jumper lifted to reveal a sliver of pale, freckled skin. Harry hastily set about heating up the kettle, trying to remember his train of thought.

“Can’t imagine what it would have been like with so many more people.”

“Rowdy and loud,” she said, her affection in her voice obvious. “Never a dull moment.”

“Was it hard? Being the only girl.” He rummaged in the cupboard, praying that Sirius hadn’t eaten the last of the biscuits.

“Sometimes, but it taught me to be…inventive.”

“Sneaky you mean?”

“When I had to be. They insisted for the longest time that I couldn’t play football with them, so I snuck out at night and practiced myself.”

“You certainly showed them,” Harry laughed, emerging victorious with a tin of biscuits he’d baked with Hermione a few days prior — hers had come out a bit rockish despite following the recipe exactly, but his were decent. “Did you always want to play professionally?”

“Yes.” She thanked him when he placed a steaming cup in front of her, offering sugar and milk. “What about you?”

Yes was on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason he paused. “I love football. I started playing as a kid, first with kicking the ball around the yard with Sirius.”

“Were you any good?”

“Um, was the youngest starter in secondary. Was scouted for my uni’s team.”

She gave a low whistle of surprise. “A lot of promise, then.”

“Hardly compares to you,” he smiled.

“If you want, I can refer you to some of the best physical therapists. You can be back to where you were in less than a year.”

Harry stared at the steam from his cup as he nibbled on a chocolate biscuit. For some reason, the prospect didn’t seem to strike a chord.

Ginny tilted her head. “It’s just a thought.”

“Oh — um, thank you. That’s really generous,” he cringed at his word choice, “I just —”

“This thing with your ex will pass, Harry.”

“I know — I mean, it kind of already has.” He fell silent, not really sure exactly what he was trying to convey. “I was really upset earlier about the whole thing — Cho and my replacement going pro in my stead. But right now, I just feel….relief?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling foolish and confused, but Ginny sipped her tea and gave him time to sort himself out.

“I love football and always will, but don’t know if…if I was all that upset about the recruiters so much as — ” He faltered, not sure where he was going with this. She reached over and squeezed his arm encouragingly. “As disappointing Sirius.”

“Your godfather?” she asked softly.

Harry nodded jerkily. “Yes. He was best mates with my dad. Practically brothers.”

He went quiet again, lost in his thoughts.

“I don’t know Sirius, but the way he looks at you in those photos makes it hard for me to think anything you’d do could disappoint him, Harry,” she said, a fierce look on her face.

A lump formed in his throat, and he cleared it several times, feeling heat crawl up his neck.

“My dad was about to go pro when…” Harry swallowed hard, his voice thick. He reached over and took her hand in his, marveling at how small and smooth her skin was. “When he and my mum got in an accident. A drunk driver on Halloween.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I don’t mind,” he said and meant it. He was surprised considering he never talked about his parents, but with Ginny, it came so naturally. When she looked at him like that, he felt like he could tell her anything. “I suppose — I wanted to fulfill their dream — dad’s and Sirius’s.”

He stopped, taken aback by his admission. He glanced down at their joined hands as her thumb gently caressed his knuckle. Was that why he had been so upset lately? He and Cho had been on the outs even before his injury.

“Everyone always says how I look just like him. Except for my eyes. I’ve got my mum’s eyes.”

His heart pounded in his chest at the way her warm brown eyes stared up at his. “You’ve got the greenest eyes. They’re green as — ” She stopped, blushing.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Green as?”

“Er — I’m blaming it on the relentless practice making me barmy, but I first thought green as a freshly pickled toad.”

They both burst out laughing, the mood lightening immediately. Ginny withdrew her hand to cover her face, which glowed like the setting sun. His hand felt strangely bereft without hers.

“So what is your dream?” “Erm — I don’t know,” he admitted. He thought hard about his hobbies outside of football. “I guess…maybe becoming a cop or detective? Solve crimes, help people.” “So you’re not usually the type to egg someone’s house?” she teased. “Ha! No, not exactly, but it was worth it.” Getting to meet you. “Though don’t get me wrong, I’m not above breaking rules. Had a bit of a reputation back in the day.”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “A troublemaker, are you?”

“Trouble usually finds me,” he grinned back.

They continued to talk late into the evening. Between all the banter, Harry found himself revealing a lot more of himself than he ever expected. Ginny, to his delight, seemed equally comfortable, even sharing a dark experience about a run-in with Tom Riddle, a wealthy and well-liked wealthy football team owner, which had Harry gripping his mug so tightly he nearly shattered it. But she carefully uncurled his fingers and her touch softened the edge of his anger. He never wanted to stop talking to her, getting to know her. Before they knew it, it was nearly three in the morning.

“It’s getting late,” she finally said, and he agreed reluctantly. They exchanged numbers and even took a photo together (would it be too creepy if he set it as his background?).

As he walked her outside, he wondered if it would be too strange or forward to offer his bed (he would obviously take the couch) or maybe call a cab so that she’d have to come back soon to pick up her motorcycle. He was jarred from his thoughts when he nearly walked into her.

“I had a wonderful night,” Harry said. “Best one in…I can’t even remember.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Do you think we can — do this again?”

“Have more exes who have done you dirty?”

He barked out a laugh. “Maybe not an ex, but I know a bully or two. Really, I’d love to see you again. You can even decide whether we commit another crime or not.”

Her lips quirked up. “Not sure that’ll help you become a cop, but yes, I’d really like that.”

They stared at each other, neither wanting to move away first. When the pressure in his chest grew unbearable, he shoved his hands into his pockets and began to turn and walk back towards his house.

“I guess I’d better… Goodnight, Ginny.”

Stupid berk, he fumed. So much for being brave.

“Harry?” she called out.

He turned around to see her running toward him, a hard, blazing look of determination in her face. She threw her arms around him as he opened his, automatically wrapping around her. And without thinking about his nerves, her fame, his crush that had blossomed into much, much more in only hours, he kissed her. There was nothing else, just Ginny, her lips sliding over his, her sweet-smelling hair in his hands, her body pressed against his. He never wanted it to end. After what felt like several sun-lit days, they broke apart.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “That was…”

“Yeah,” she said. “It was.”

They finally pulled away. He probably looked like a besotted fool with his mile-wide grin, but he couldn’t work himself up to care when Ginny was grinning up at him like that.

“So I’ll call you? Maybe — maybe we can get together tomorrow, er — I guess today?”

She bit down on her lower lip as her grin grew. She reached up and adjusted his skewed glasses. “Yeah, today.”

“A proper date,” Harry felt the need to say.

“I’ll let you woo me and everything,” Ginny chuckled.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

But instead of moving away, they leaned in and kissed again. They’d go their separate ways…in due time.

#hinny #Harry/Ginny #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #fanfiction #i wrote a thing #tumblr prompt #Muggle AU #football | soccer player Ginny #football | soccer player Harry #lots of sass and flirting #i can't believe i wrote this after all this time away #meet-cute #Ginny is the famous one #fluff #humor #My writing

[papermoonloveslucy]

GETTING OLD

May 20, 1949

“Getting Old” (aka “Liz Is Feeling Her Age”) is episode #44 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on May 20, 1949 on the CBS radio network.

Synopsis ~ Scanning her old high school yearbook, Liz decides she's old, and everything George does to try to snap her out of it just makes things worse. George tries to convince Liz that she's as glamourous as ever. His tactics misfire so George is forced to hire a psychiatrist.

Note: This episode partly inspired the “I Love Lucy” episode “The Inferiority Complex” (ILL S2;E18) aired on February 2, 1953, which also starred Gerard Mohr as a psychiatrist.  In this case, however, the complex is replaced by fear of aging. There is another “My Favorite Husband” episode titled “Liz’s Inferiority Complex” (aka “Liz Develops an Inferiority Complex”) broadcast on February 3, 1951 which uses the notion of inferiority rather than aging. In that episode, the psychiatrist is played by Alan Reed.  

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) does not appear in this episode. 

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz (above right), a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

GUEST CAST

Gerald Mohr Psychiatrist aka Charley ‘Chuck’ Stewart) also played psychiatrist Henry Molin, who masquerades as Ricky’s old friend Chuck Stewart in “The Inferiority Complex” (ILL S2;E18 ~ February 2, 1953), his only appearance on “I Love Lucy”. In return, Lucy and Desi appeared on his show “Sunday Showcase” that same year. He also made an appearance on “The Lucy Show” in “Lucy and Phil Harris” (TLS S6;E20 ~ February 5, 1968).

One of the few times an actor recreates his role in a television version of a radio script using the same name. 

Bea Benadaret (Mrs. Annie Green) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

This turn as an old lady may have given Lucille Ball the idea to cast her as elderly Miss Lewis on “I Love Lucy”. 

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers, Liz is over by the bookcase, with books spread out all around her.” 

Liz tells George her club is having an old book sale. George warns her not to sell any of his book, especially ones he hasn’t finished yet.  She finds one with a bookmark and he tells her to put it back on the shelf: some books are too heavy to finish in one sitting.

GEORGE: “What’s the name of it?” LIZ: “’The Bobbsey Twins at the Seashore’”

“The Bobbsey Twins at the Seashore” was originally published in 1907, the third in a series of children’s books. There were 72 books in all, the first appearing in 1904 and the last in 1979. In 1953’s “The Camping Trip” (ILL S2;E29) Ethel referred to Lucy and Ricky as the Bobbsey Twins. In “No More Double Dates” (TLS S1;E21) they are mentioned again. They were authored by Laura Lee Hope, which was a pseudonym for a series of writers employed by the publisher.  

Liz finds a book about how to play mahjong that George forgot to return to the library. 

GEORGE: “When was it due?” LIZ: “May 13th. 1936!” 

George wants to donate it to the sale, but Liz refuses to handle ‘hot’ merchandise. George sarcastically calls her Pear-Shape. 

George is not referring to Liz’s figure, but to the character in the Dick Tracy comic strip named Pear-Shape Tone, who was part of the storyline from April to July 1949. He was a racketeer who would steal jewelry from his wealthier clients, then fence it to make a profit. One of his famous heists was referred to on “My Favorite Husband”  in “Anniversary Presents” aired on May 13, 1949.

LIZ: “George, look! On the second shelf!  ‘Little Men’ is leaning against ‘Little Women’!  Oh, look, George!  They’ve had a little pamphlet!” 

“Little Women” (1868) and its sequel “Little Men” (1871) are books by Louisa May Alcott.  A sequel was titled “Good Wives” (1869) but in America was combined with “Little Women” for publication. A third book (not a pamphlet) arrived in 1886 titled “Jo’s Boys.”

Liz finds the Arbutus, George’s old high school year book from 1929. George was a senior, Liz was a freshman. He reads some of the inscriptions from his friends.  The book has a photo of Liz as a Freshman Princess - dimples in her knees. 

LIZ: “I used to spend every evening kneeling on two collar buttons!” 

Liz suddenly feels very old.  She has turned from ‘a flower in the bloom of youth’ to ‘an old stink weed’.  She starts to cry and decides to go to bed because old people need their rest. 

In the morning Katie the Maid finds Liz gazing at herself in the mirror.  

LIZ: “I haven’t felt so old since the day Shirley Temple got married.” 

Former child star Shirley Temple married actor (and then Army Air Force Sergeant) John Agar on September 19, 1945, when she was just 17 years-old.  At one time, Temple was one of Hollywood’s biggest box office stars.  The marriage became troubled, and Temple divorced Agar on December 5, 1949. On December 16, 1950, Temple re-married to Charles Alden Black, a Navy intelligence officer and assistant to the President of the Hawaiian Pineapple Company.

George is concerned about Liz, so he visits a psychiatrist (Gerard Mohr). He tells her to flatter her and make her feel young again.  

PSYCHIATRIST: “A few days of attention and you won’t be able to leave her alone without a sitter!” 

George comes home and finds Liz in a rocking chair.  He has brought her roses and candy.  She begins to cry and is immediately suspicious of his motivations for bringing her gifts.  She decides to go to her room - alone.  George immediately starts to dial Dr. Stewart, humming while he does: 

GEORGE: “Little Old Lady young and fair, you’re in everyone’s hair...”

The song “Little Old Lady” was a 1937 hit written by Hoagy Carmichael and Stanley Adams.  It was also heard on stage and screen. 

Dr. Stewart tells George that it is natural for a wife not to believe her husband.  He suggests an outsider flattering her would be more convincing and he has just the person - himself!  George reluctantly agrees and decides to say that Dr. Stewart is an old college friend.  He will drop by at eight o’clock that evening. 

When the doorbell rings, George announces him as Charley Stewart, who immediately takes Liz for George’s daughter.  After some flattery, they decide to listen to the radio.  Liz says her favorite she is “Life Begins at 80″.  

“Life Begins at 80″ was a panel quiz show that aired on radio from 1948 to 1949, before making the shift to television in 1950. In it, octogenarians answered questions sent in by listeners. Jack Barry hosted. 

Chuck insists that they play music and invites Liz to dance the Samba. After three hours, Chuck compliments her dancing, but George is getting impatient.  

LIZ: “Treatment, George. Treatment!”  GEORGE: “It looks more like a treat than a treatment.” 

Chuck starts whispering amorous compliments into Liz’s ear just out of ear shot of George.  He demands to know what’s going on. 

LIZ: “Treatment, George!  Treatment!”  GEORGE: “What do you know about treatment?” LIZ: “Nothing. But whenever he says it you leave us alone.” 

George finally can’t take anymore and tells Liz the truth about Chuck being a psychiatrist, telling him to leave at once.  After Chuck leaves, George finds Liz back in her rocking chair lamenting her old age. 

Next day the phone rings and Katie answers it.  It is George, checking up on Liz, who Katie reports is making out her will. 

KATIE: “She’s leaving you to me!”

George has a plan. He’s going to bring home a real old lady - seventy year-old Mrs. Green - to show Liz how young she really is.  Katie finds Liz happily singing. 

KATIE: “What’s happened to ya? Last night you were Grandma Moses and now you’re Junior Miss!”

Grandma Moses (1860-1961) was an American folk artist who began painting at the age of 78 and is often cited as an example of a person who successfully began a career at an advanced age. In “Nursery School” (ILL S5;E9) Lucy Ricardo is so proud of Little Ricky’s first drawing, she dubs him the next “Grandpa Moses.” The Ricardos had two framed prints by Grandma Moses next to their front door: “So Long” and “The Old Snow Roller.”  

Junior Miss is a collection of semi-autobiographical stories by Sally Benson first published in The New Yorker. Between 1929 and the end of 1941, the prolific Benson published 99 stories. She had a bestseller when Doubleday published her Junior Miss collection in 1941. The stories inspired a Broadway play (1941), film (1945), radio series starring the aforementioned Shirley Temple (1942), and television show (1957). 

Liz tells Katie that she got a call from the Psychiatrist asking her out on a date.  Katie says that since she’s now in a more upbeat mood, she’d better call George and tell him not to go through with his plan.  But Liz has other ideas.  Since he tricked her by brining home a psychiatrist, Liz will trick him by pretending to be an old lady when she brings Mrs. Green home!  

Liz dons a shawl, eyeglasses, a gray wig, and talks with a creaky voice. Mrs. Annie Green (Bea Benadaret) and ‘Lizzie’ sit down for a chat.  Whatever question Mrs. Green asks, Liz answers “Penicillin”!  Lizzie tells Annie that she can’t dance because she’s got the gout. 

LIZZIE: “I can’t dance any unless I get oiled.  In my joints, I mean.” ANNIE: “I’ve been oiled in few joints myself!”   LIZZIE: “Oh, Annie!  You’re a caution! Just cuz ya got snow on the roof don’t mean there’s no fire in the furnace.” 

Annie tells Lizzie about a hot Bingo game in back of the Blue Bird Tea Shop (which just a front). 

ANNIE: “Get your green eye shade and let’s go!”  LIZZIE: “I’ll get my wheelchair! We can ride down.” ANNIE: “What model you got?”  LIZZIE: “A real hopped-up job; I hooked it to a Mixmaster. I had some speed trials yesterday.” ANNIE: “What did ya make?” LIZZIE: “Fourteen miles an hour and a bunt cake!” 

In 1930, the Sunbeam Company introduced the Mixmaster mixer, the first mechanical mixer with two detachable beaters whose blades interlocked. Several attachments were available for the Mixmaster, including a juice extractor, drink mixer, meat grinder–food chopper, and slicer–shredder. The Mixmaster became the company's flagship product for the next forty years.

George has had enough and tells Liz to stop, so she gives up the old lady act.  She tells him she’s feeling better, but George lets it slip that he told Chuck to call and ask her out on a date.  She’s distraught again and Annie and Lizzie toddle off to Bingo!  

#My Favorite Husband #Lucille Ball #Richard Denning #Gerard Mohr #Bea Benadaret #Ruth Perrott #Mixmaster #Grandma Moses #Junior Miss #The Bobbsey Twins #Life Begins at 80 #Shirley Temple #Little Old Lady #John Agar #Gerald Mohr #Bob LeMond #Dick Tracy

[earphonekiyouka]

Milk Bread

Summary: You are the older sister of Tobio Kageyama, who happens to study at Aoba Johsai Highschool. You and your brother get along well with the shared love for volleyball, but what happens when his arch enemy is your boyfriend.

PT: 1 2 3 4&5

A/N:This is pretty long and I’m sorry if this part isn’t as good, ol classes has been making me cry all week lmao.

~~~

Throughout Sunday and Monday, all you could think about was the moment at the park at your date with Tooru. Sure before both of you would flirt with the other but now that you were official it wasn't just sweet nothings it was now a show of love to one another.

"Hey (Y/N)-chan, you've been spacing out since this morning, was your date with Oikawa-senpai that amazing?" You were currently at your volleyball club doing drills with the whole team, Akari was currently trying to receive the teams' spikes as she is the teams' libero. "It was pretty good actually"

"Ooo spill the details! but don't make it obvious or else coach might scold us for slacking off" Ichika, who was setting the ball to the team, smiled at you as you started to blush. "W-well, we went to the cafe around 1, he gave me this big bouquet of roses which was harder to hide from my family than I thought, after the cafe, we went to the park to play some volleyball and as usual even with an injury he was better at me but after that... well...I"

You hadn't noticed but your team had surrounded you looking awestruck with a smile on their face. "I asked him to be my boyfriend and he said yes...so I guess we're together now"

"What! You asked him! I really thought Oikawa-senpai would be the one to have guts and ask you out!"

"Oh my god, that was so romantic!"

"I wish I had someone like that!" 

The team started rambling about how lucky you are and how they're happy for you, even the first years who had such an extreme crush on Oikawa was congratulating you. "Ok girls, that's enough, go back to practicing" Your coach said as he had announced the next few drills and improvements for those who needed it.

After practice, you, Ichika, and Akari stopped by the gym where the men's volleyball team would practice. Just as you opened the door, a ball immediately came hurtling at you, by pure instinct you dropped the book you had in hand with your bag as you received the ball. "Gee guys, thank you for the warm welcome" You told the team as Akari and Ichika helped you gather your stuff that fell out of your bad.

"Gomen (Y/N)-chan I kind of messed up that spike" You noticed the voice to be Hanamaki Takahiro or Makki as Tooru would call him. 

"(Y/N)-chan, did your practice finish early?" The voice was from your boyfriend who had a towel around his neck and a water bottle at hand, you felt a push from behind you which you guessed was either Akari or Ichika which made you stumble to Toorus' chest. You glared at the pair as they looked away pretending nothing happened. "Yeah, coach said we should get plenty of rest for tomorrow" 

"Oh well, why not watch our practice for a while? I'm actually not doing much because of my injury but we can go home together after practice" After those words came out of Tooru's mouth, Ichika and Akari announced that they would be leaving early as they both flashed you a thumbs up. "Sure! try not hitting me with a ball though" You winked at Tooru as he only giggled and told you to sit down near the bench where their coach was.

"Coach Nobuteru! I haven't seen you in a while! How are the guys?" You were particularly close with the men's volleyball coach since he was the one who suggested you join the women's volleyball team at Aoba Johsai when he saw you play at middle school. "Ah, (Y/N) I'm guessing you're here to watch your boyfriend play? and they're doing fine Oikawa has been a good captain for the team"

"Eh? Where did you even hear that I was dating Tooru?"

"He isn't exactly tight-lipped when it comes to talking about you"

You blushed at his statement as you focused back on the drills and spikes happening at the gym. Your mind drifted to what Coach Nobuteru had said, it felt nice that someone was as interested in you as you are in them. The moment you and Tooru had met after a match, he came with the men's volleyball team to congratulate the women's team. Your eyes immediately locked with this as he patted your head and said his congratulations to you, despite having fangirls everywhere even when he was just a 2nd year he always tried to find you in the crowd every time you would watch his matches and vice versa. 

~~~

The next day after class you had met up with your team to do warm-ups before the opposing team arrived. Since the Gym that the female's volleyball club was under renovation both the male and female were forced to share one gym as it turned out that both had practice math scheduled on the same day. 

"(Y/N)-chan, I know this is a practice match but I expect you to do your best" Your captain, Yui Sato, had told you after the warm-ups. "You can count on me Sato-senpai!" She smiled at you as you go back to where Akari and Ichika were talking. "How fun is it that we get to watch the guys play! well even though we stay at the basketball side for practicing but still! It's been so long since I've seen them play!" Ichika said as she bounces happily.

"Oh, (Y/N)-chan isn't that volleyball jacket too big on you?" You blushed as you pulled on the collar of the jacket you were wearing. "Well, it's actually... Tooru's jacket" they both squealed as they started teasing you about him. You looked back at the other team and noticed that their captain was nowhere to be seen. "I'll be back you guys, I need to ask Iwaizumi something"

You approached the males' team as some of them said their greetings. "Hey Iwa-Kun, where's Tooru?"

"He's still trying to get permission from the clinic to play, you can visit him there if you want. I couldn't go to him since our opponent for today will be here any second"

"Hmm sure" You turn to go back to your coach and ask him if you could see Tooru at the clinic since you were done with warm-ups, he hesitantly agreed as you said your thanks and exited the Gym.

~~~

The path to the clinic wasn't far so you eventually got there, as you entered you saw Tooru laying on the bed but awake. You didn't see the nurse nearby so you walked up to him and sat on the side of the bed. "I thought your ankle was feeling better" 

"I am, I just need an ok from my doctor so I could play today. What about you, I thought you also had a match today?"

"Well our game is after the men's so I could wait here for a while" 

He pulls you down on the bed with him as you tried to get away from his grip. "Tooru! I'm not even supposed to be here! Get off!" You weakly tried to roll away from the bed but failed as he nuzzles his face into your hair. "My jacket looks good on you" You felt the warmth of his chest radiating on your back as his hands reach out to touch yours. "The men and women  have the same design for the jackets, Tooru"

"Mine just looks better than yours" You snorted as you relaxed in his arms, relishing in the feeling of his arms. A few minutes later after you talked about whatever came up in your mind, you heard the door slide open. You quickly sat upright as you straightened the non-existent folds from your volleyball uniform. 

The nurse only smiled and shook her head as she approached Tooru's bed. "Your doctor confirmed that you can play today so you can go to the gymnasium! I think no team is above the other so you better hurry if you want to catch the match" You and Tooru stood up and thanked the nurse as you both ran to go to the gymnasium.

The moment you got there you slowed down to catch your breath, Tooru was behind you as he put his arm around your shoulder. "Why am I the one more concerned about you catching up to the match?"

"Because I trust my team, (Y/n)-chan" You smile at him as he kisses your forehead before heading inside.

The moment you walked in you noticed a lot of things at once, the score being toe to toe, the squealing of some female students when they saw Tooru but also a sneer as his hands were around your shoulder and the men at Aoba Johsai on a time out. 

For a second you didn't get the frantic pointing of Ichika and Akari at the opposite team until you locked eye with your brother. After all those days you managed to forget to ask who you were up against for the match that day.

You froze as you already imagined how terrified your younger brother must be. His rivals arm around his older sister's shoulder and the jacket just adds a kick in the gut for him. 

You already hear Karasuno, as you remembered was the school your brother goes to, talking about Tooru. You looked away from your brother's horrified face and pulled Tooru's shirt. "Tooru, I-i think I'll go back to my team" He nods and kisses your hand which only added fuel to the already burning glare of your brother. You pull the jacket over your head to hide from the embarrassment you felt. 

The moment you sat on the floor beside Ichika and Akari you felt like the wooden floor under you could swallow you up. Ichika and Akari tried to comfort you but you kept the collar of the jacket above your head. You didn't even care who wins or not, right now all you were thinking of was how you were gonna explain to your brother that your dating his rival.

"Kageyama (Y/n)!" You heard your coach shout that resonated through the whole gymnasium. You immediately stood up and walked to where your coach and the rest of your team were.

You immediately hear whispering from Karasuno when your name was the same as one of their first years. 

"Ok, Aoba will not take 2 losses against the same school in both volleyball teams so I expect the best from all of you" All of your team nodded as they continued to do some quick drills. "Coach is it ok if I sit this game out? or can I have a few minutes out?" You don't usually sit games out but seeing that both men's team looked like they were going to stay and watch the women's put a lot of pressure on you since it was your brother and your boyfriend watching. "Fine, but I trust you to know when you should go in" You nodded as you walked to where the subs would be staying, your team was surprised to not see you at the main 6 line up since you never turn down the chance to play. 

You also took a glance at Tooru who seemed confused about why you weren't playing but you just sighed as you watched the match continue.

~~~ 

The match was 1-0 with surprisingly Karasuno with 1, you saw how your team was struggling to work together since there were so many people that had different techniques. Meanwhile, the current score for the 2nd set was 18 to 20, again with Karasuno leading. You might still be upset about your brother finding out that your 'close' with his rival but one thing you hated more was losing. As the score came to 18-21 you sighed and shook off the upsetting feeling you felt earlier, you waved at your coach to call for a switch as he saw and enthusiastically called to switch the current middle blocker. Your team cheered as they wished you good luck but knowing you, you didn't need luck.

~~~

Tooru finally smiled as he saw you enter the court, he looked at Tobio who seemed to stop glaring at him and finally looked at the match happening in front of him. "Finally, our witch is ready to rule the court" Iwaizumi said as he chuckled. "Aren't you going to wish your girlfriend good luck?" Tooru heard Hanamaki say as he glanced back at you and ignored the burning glare of your sibling.

"(Y/n)-chan!" You look at him with a questioning face as he smiled.

"Hit it till it breaks!" You looked shocked at first but looked back at the opposite team with a slight smile.

~~~

Karasuno's mouths were wide open when the score became 25-23 with Aoba Johsai winning the second set. The guys in Karasuno kept bugging their first year about his relationship with you, he admitted that you were his older sister which earned a few shocked screams from his team.

"Your sister plays better than you" Hinata jested which earned a glare from Tobio. He might still be upset with you for hiding your relationship with Tooru but he couldn't help the feeling of showing you off to his teammates. 

"I'm surprised that your sister is dating that Oikawa guy, he seems full of himself" Tobio ignored Tanaka as he focused on the game in front of him.

~~~

The third set was won by your team, as you shook hands with Karasuno your team gave you praises in which you humbly thanked them and returned a compliment. 

The first person waiting for you outside the gym was your boyfriend, who greeted you with his usual smile.

"Congrats on turning the tides again"

"It was just a practice match Tooru"

He insisted that you played well which made your blood rush to your cheeks, Iwaizumi also approached you to inform Tooru that they still needed to clean up the gym. "Are you going home (Y/n)-chan?" Tooru asked, he saw that you were quite tired so he didn't want you to stay and wait for them. "I'll walk you to the gate you shouldn't wait for me and Iwaizumi" You nodded as you yawned and took his hand that was holding out to you. As you neared the gate you saw the men's volleyball team of Karasuno behind you, "Tooru you better not say anything stupid to them" You say with a huff, he only laughed and turned to face the said team.

You only sighed as you gripped his hand as a warning that he shouldn't spite the team more. He had a habit of running his mouth off to look intimidating but after that, he looks to Iwaizumi to see if he looked cool. 

"Your Kageyama's older sister!" Your attention turned back to the orange-haired boy beside your brother, "Kon'nichiwa, I'm Kageyama (Y/n) but I guess you already know me". They all greeted you and you answered a few questions they had.

After a while, Tooru had to go back to the gym to help clean it up which left you with your brothers' teammates.

"Onēsan why don't we go home together" 

"Oh sure..."

That was how you ended up on Karasuno's bus with the men's team. You sat beside your brother with some of his teammates still asking you questions and even Hinata trying to get you to teach him how to spike. It was nice to know how welcoming and supportive your brother's team was, you even got along with their manager Kiyoko. After you arrived at their school you waited outside their gymnasium for your brother.

"Onēsan, we should get going" You nodded as his teammates waved him goodbye. You sensed the tension between the two of you since you saw each other at the gate, you never had a big argument before, you two were like 2 peas in a pod always had the same observations. 

"I know you're mad at me" You were the first to break the silence while walking alongside him, the sun was already down when both of you were walking, the wind was cold but the jacket you were wearing prevented to from freezing. "I'm not mad... I'm just surprised" You look at him with furrowed brows as he stared straight on the streets. 

"I know that I have no business with who you date but... I never expected you to date him" 

You immediately hugged him as he looked shocked at your sudden action. "I thought you would have thrown a fit the moment you even saw me remotely close to him"

"I would have if we were alone"

"Tobio..." 

"I may hate him but I can't deny the fact that you look happy around him" You blushed as you let go of him and squished his cheeks. "Don't use this to make me feel more flustered" He tried to get your hands off his face with a playful glare, you only smiled as the uncomfortable atmosphere was finally lifted.

Taglist: @aegeanblues​

#oikawa imagine #oikawa scenarios #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyū!! #haikyu fanfiction #haikyu fluff #oikawa tooru #haikyu scenarios #tooru oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa

[need-a-new-hobby]

Nameless, Faceless

4 am. That’s when the jet hit the tarmac. Piper had been staring out the window, watching the sunrise as she pulled her cardigan close. She gently woke up Spencer and the team silently filed out of the plane and into their respective SUVs.

5 am. That’s when Piper’s head hit the pillow. But that wasn’t the same thing as falling asleep. After about a half hour of staring at her ceiling, she’d had enough. She padded out into her living room and pulled out her stack of paperwork she still had to file away, sighing as she wrote out her report from the call to the final arrest. She’d written about half of her outline when her cell buzzed. Not again. “Yeah, Spence.”

“You picked up on the second ring.” Spencer’s drowsy voice melted Piper.

“Astute observation, Sherlock. Can’t sleep?”

“Not you too?” Piper smiled.

“Gave up after the first half-hour. Working on my report now.”

“But you’re not allowed to take evidence home. Regulation.”

“Yes, but it’s perfectly fine if I write a sketch of my report before I paste in the gory details.”

“Of course. I knew they gave you those PhDs for a reason.”

“So, why’d you call?”

“Can’t I just call?”

“Spencer, we just spent the last 24 hours in Canada. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t.” Piper’s pen faltered.

“Spence, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—” She heard him sigh over the phone and could imagine him hunched over, rubbing his face. “I just want some sleep.” Piper racked her brain to think of how she could get Spencer to fall asleep.

“Okay, let me think.” Piper got up, her report still lying on the table, and began pacing.

“Pipes—”

“Shh. Let me think.” Piper whirled around. “I’m a genius.” She walked towards her wall of books, one golden fingernail running along every impulse-buy until she found the right one.

“May I speak now?”

“How does Fahrenheit 451 sound?”

“I— What?”

“I’m gonna read to you. How does Fahrenheit 451 sound?”

“Sounds perfect.” Piper moved back to her armchair, tucking her legs inside as she began reading.

“It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history…”

6 am. That’s when Piper heard Spencer snoring slightly through her cell. She whispered her name to check, but he was asleep. Piper switched her cell off before sliding it across the coffee table. She pulled the green throw over her and tried to get some sleep.

9 am. That’s when Piper’s head hit her carpeted floor at the sound of her cell ringing. “JJ, what the hell?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But there’s a case here. It’s local too. We might even be able to wrap it up quickly.” Piper sat up, rubbing her head.

“Alright. Send me the address. I’ll be there in 20.” Piper chucked the cell onto her sofa and peeled off her clothes before she entered the shower. She changed as fast as possible, grabbing a white collared top and grey sweater, dark jeans matched with a simple belt and leather jacket. She packed up the file, grabbed her sunglasses, keys, cell, helmet, wallet and badge before leaving. She was one of the first on the scene, with Spencer already perched on a table as though he wasn’t tall enough already, reading a note and JJ talking with the lead detective. JJ introduced her as well as Morgan, Rossi and Prentiss who had filed in behind them. She listened intently to the detective and observed the remnants of a violent murder. “His name is Nelson Martinez. From what we can figure, he answered his door, was forced into the apartment at gunpoint and then shot in the chest. It was all pretty sloppy.”

“2 days ago, a local doctor named Tom Barton found a note addressed to him at the hospital. It said the person was planning to kill his son. If Dr. Barton tried to keep his boy hidden, one person would die every day in his place.”

“And you think this is connected?” Derek asked Detective Walker.

“The note is signed L.C. Yesterday we had another victim. Multiple gunshots outside the apartment. The shooter wrote L.C. in white chalk next to the body. Now, unless Dr. Barton puts his son in harm's way, we're gonna keep having a victim a day.”

“Where's Barton now?” Rossi asked.

“He's at home. He doesn't know about this victim yet,” the detective explained, and the team filed out of the small apartment.

“Hey, JJ, where's Hotch?” Emily asked JJ as she watched Piper cross the street to her bike.

“He's not answering his cell. I assume it's on vibrate. He'll get the message when he wakes up.”

“Try him again,” Rossi said. “He can meet us at Barton's house.” Piper and Emily drove ahead to Kensington Rd where Dr Barton lived. The ladies entered the polished hall with rich timber floors.

“Dr. Barton, where is your son right now?”

“Um, I asked him to stay up in his room.” The doctor cleared his throat. “I told him that there was a threat against me at the hospital. I told him the police didn't take it seriously but that they wanted me to stay here for a few days and that I wanted to have him with me.”

“And Jeffrey's mother?” Piper asked gently.

“She died when he was 10. Breast cancer. Would someone really hurt Jeffrey?”

“2 people are dead already,” Emily said. “Whoever sent that note is obviously serious.”

“And if I don't let Jeffrey out of the house, then another person's gonna die?”

“Right now, we have to assume that he will keep killing.” Piper watched the man rub his face, helpless.

“My son is 15 years old. I cannot put him in danger.”

“We are not asking you to. And even if you were willing, we couldn't send him to school knowing he would endanger every student in the building. What we need to do now Is go over everything we know, piece together how this person fits into your life.”

“Well, I...I... I can't think of anyone who would want to kill Jeffrey.”

“Sir, not to be blunt, but this isn’t about Jeffrey.” Piper’s voice was calm as she explained the situation to the father. “This is about you. He wants you to remember who he is, and until that happens, he hasn't accomplished what he set out to do.”

“I know you've been asked this before, but, please, think again...” Emily urged him. “Do you know anyone with the initials L.C.?” Dr Barton sighed.

“I've looked everywhere... Day planner, emails, patient lists. There's no one.”

“Have you noticed anyone who might have been watching you, either at the hospital or here in the neighbourhood?” He shook his head.

“I... I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Let’s keep going,” Piper urged. “Both the victims he's killed have been Hispanic men in their 40s. Have you had a patient recently that fits the description?”

“I'm a trauma surgeon in DC. I have endless patients, all demographics.”

“Okay then. We're gonna need records of all your recent surgeries. I’ll call Garcia,” Emily said, leaving the room.

“I... I don't understand. If he's mad at me, why not just kill me?”

“You want my opinion?” He nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat. “I think it’s because something happened to his own son that he blames you for. Maybe it was an unsuccessful surgery or a choice you had to make between surgeries. Regardless, he blames you for it. Even if you may have had nothing to do with it.” The doctor nodded slowly. Before he could continue, his cell buzzed. Piper wrung her hands as he answered the call while the rest of her team filed in. “Jeffrey? What...what's happening? Are you ok? Jeffrey, what's going on? Talk to me.” Piper motioned for Derek to go upstairs while Dr Barton talked to his son and Derek sprinted up the steps and into his room.

“He's not up here,” he announced.

“Jeffrey, where are you?” The line clicked. “He said he’s going to school.” The doctor rubbed his face. “What do we do?” Piper turned to Rossi who seemed to realise he was the de facto leader in Hotch’s absence.

“Bishop, Prentiss and Reid, stay here and work a profile. The rest of us will go to the school, protect Jeffrey there.” Piper nodded and she and Spencer moved into the living room to set up a workspace. “The safest place for him to be is at that school. We can control access in and out. Detective Walker will organize an evacuation as soon as the school day is done. But if we incite a panic now and the unsub is outside, a lot of kids are gonna die,” Rossi warned Derek and JJ as they left the household.

Meanwhile, Penelope had called Spencer to send him the medical information. “Spencer, this guy's a trauma surgeon working a major metropolitan area. We are talking thousands of surgeries.”

“Confine it to the last 6 months.”

“That's still hundreds.”

“I know.”

“Okay, do you want biological information or full medical charts?”

“Can you get the full medical charts?”

“You know, for a smart boy, you still ask a lot of dumb questions. You'll have them in seconds.”

“Hey, Garcia.”

“Yes, my love.”

“Has Hotch checked in with you?”

“He's not with you?”

“He's probably on his way. Uh, thanks for everything. Bye.” He switched the cell off and slipped it into his pocket as Piper handed him a cup of coffee. “She's going to email the files. We'll print them out from here.” Piper nodded.

“Can I see that note?” She murmured a quick thanks as she re-read it.

“You know, I could have my office send over the files.”

“No, no, trust us, this is faster,” Emily reassured him.

“We need to dig through your life and try to figure out why this is happening,” Spencer explained. “Let's start with the most recent cases first. Something set this guy off, and odds are it's in your files.”

“We can use the note to cross off people from the list.”

“How?”

“Well, for starters, we know he’s a male,” Emily told the doctor. “Women tend to add adjectives and very specific details to their notes. This has none of those. Just look at the first sentence... ‘I plan to kill your son.’ And their notes tend to be more about themselves than the person they're writing to. ‘I watched you every day.’ ‘I will watch you lose everything.’”

“We know he surveilled you and your son,” Spencer surmised. “Which means he either has enough money to be away from a regular job or he's currently unemployed.”

“He's most likely a father.” Piper looked up from the note. “He's clearly grieving. He's taken great measures to make sure you feel his pain.”

“Let's start with cases involving teenagers killed,” Spencer suggested. “But also, anyone with a strong family presence. Just because your son is 15, that doesn't necessarily mean that his child is the same age.” The four of them divided the piles, but the medical jargon was going over her head. Piper tried to focus, ignoring the big medical terms, focusing on the emotional toll. They worked like this for about a solid hour until Dr Barton slammed his file on the desk.

“We only have 5 hours till school ends. There's no way we can get through all these patients in this time.”

“Well, we've narrowed it down already,” Spencer supplied, attempting to be optimistic.

“And we still have 100 left. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be callous, but when you work in the ER, you don't remember names. You operate and you move on.”

“He's right. There are too many files here for us to profile in such a short period of time,” Piper added from her seat on the rug.

“Um, I can get to Hotch's and get back here in half an hour.” Emily suggested, getting up and grabbing her blazer.

“Who's that?”

“He's our supervisor,” Piper explained. “We weren't supposed to work today so we're having trouble getting a hold of him.”

“But we need more eyes,” Emily said. “I’ll be back soon. Oh, Pipes can I—”

“Absolutely not.” Piper returned to her files.

“Oh, come on, I’ll take good care of it.”

“Oh right, because you take such good care of your car.” Dr Barton looked between the crushed agent and focused doctor, then turned to Dr Reid, who just shrugged.

“Well, I tried.” Emily asked Spencer to toss her the car keys, stressing for him to aim before he chucked them. To Emily’s credit, she was still able to catch it and she left for Hotch’s apartment. No less than 20 minutes after she had left, Spencer’s cell buzzed.

“Hold on, Emily. Slow down. What’s happened?” Dr Barton looked at Spencer, then at a confused Piper.

“Is this about Jeffrey?”

“Huh, no. It’s unrelated. Piper, can you hold the fort for me?”

“You got it. Go.”

“What is going on here?” Piper attempted to calm him down, but he was now on a rampage. “I’m trying to keep it together for my son and here you’re all slipping out one by one,” he said as his voice rose steadily.

“Sir, pleas—”

“What are you going to do about my son?” He all but yelled at the other doctor. Piper froze.

“What did you say?” Piper raised a finger at him. “Repeat it.”

“I said, what are you going to do about my son?” Piper blinked at him, then pulled her hair into a quick ponytail before searching through the piles.

“How many of your surgeries involved patients under 20?”

“Uh...6. What are you looking for?”

“We’ve been looking at this from the angle of perception that the unsub is angry at something you did, but it’s not that at all. It’s what you didn’t do.” Dr Barton glanced back at the clock.

“We still have time. Think about any cases that had multiple victims, but you could only perform on one. Maybe one was DOA or—”

“Yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose while shaking his other hand. “It was right after New Years. There was a car accident. One of the victims was Hispanic.” Piper rummaged through the pile as Spencer walked in, handing him file after file as she perused the dates.

“Piper—”

“Shh, we’re almost there. Ha! Here, January 3rd, there was a 2-car collision, you operated on a Hector Ledezma.”

“I remember. The collision lacerated his kidney. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to repair the damage. Uh… there was another man there, family member. Meyers, Jason Meyers, that was the kid’s name. 18. He was in the accident, DOA.” Piper thanked him before leaving the room to call Garcia.

“Piper, listen,” She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s up?”

“About Hotch, he’s been—” Piper raised a finger as Garcia picked up.

“Garcia, I need you to find a patient in the system named Jason Meyers. He was admitted January 3rd, on life support.”

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“He was taken off the ventilator and declared legally dead 3 days ago.”

“Who's his father?”

“Yeah, uh, Patrick Meyers, 45.”

“Get a photo to Rossi immediately. I think he's our unsub.”

“Ok. Yeah. It's on its way.” Piper cut the call, slipping it into her pocket as she looked at the floor, eyebrows furrowing.

“What’s wrong? You look tense,” Spencer lifted her chin and she looked up into his golden eyes.

“The note. It was signed, L.C. But they aren’t initials.”

“What is it?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. Does L.C. mean anything beyond a name?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is it some kind of— what is it?” She followed his gaze to Dr Barton grabbing his blazer. “Sir, Rossi’s ordered us to not let you leave.”

“The unsub said I shouldn’t deviate from my normal routine. I always go to pick up Jeffrey at this time.”

“Okay, we’ll come with—” She sighed as Dr Barton walked away to get to the front door. Spencer was still lost in thought, thinking of every abbreviation possible for L.C. Unless…

“Dr Barton! Don’t!” Spencer sprinted past Piper as he unholstered his gun. Piper unholstered her own gun as she ran after him, feeling her stomach drop at the sound of a single gunshot, Spencer dropping to the ground. She raised her own automatically, lodging her own bullet in Mr Meyer’s thigh. She jogged over to the fallen body, sending his gun skirting down the grass to the footpath below. “I'm fine. Go to him. Go to him.” Piper’s head twisted back to see Spencer still on the ground and she skidded over to him.

“What do I do?”

“Hold the… hold the bleeding.” Spencer paled, beads of sweat trickling down as Piper’s usually soft hands pressed hard to stop the bleeding.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Spencer scoffed, but humour leeched from his face as he watched Piper panicking.

“Hey, I’m fine.”

“Fine?” she scoffed. “Your thigh is bleeding, and you’re fine. If you’re fine, then I’m… Michelle Obama.”

“Piper, relax. The others are here.” She barely heard her team approach, or the ambulances squealing behind her for that matter, focusing on the blood, letting go when Dr Barton intervened. JJ helped Piper up, but she was still shaking, her hands stained with his blood.

“Looks like it went clean through.” He looked back up at Piper. “You might have just saved his life.” The doctor turned back to Spencer. “Keep pressure on this, okay?”

“I'm good, I'm fine. Go to your son.” Piper knelt back down next to Spencer as Dr Barton ran to his son. “I'm good. I'm fine,” he repeated softly.

“Spencer, you say you’re fine one more time, I’m gonna give you more pain that some damn bullet.” Spencer chuckled before remembering what he had to tell her.

“Call…Call Emily. You need to find Emily.”

“Why, where is she?”

“Something’s happened to Hotch.” Rossi, JJ and Morgan went to call up Emily while Piper relinquished her position to the EMTs who moved Spencer onto a stretcher. Once in the ambulance, Spencer visibly relaxed but tightened his grip on Piper’s hand as an EMT grabbed a syringe.

“What’s that for?”

“Morphine. Helps with the pain.”

“He can’t take narcotics.” His grip relaxed in Piper’s hand. “You don’t have anaesthesia?” The EMT nodded before rummaging through a kit. Spencer winced as the EMTs cleaned the wound and stopped the bleeding. Piper held his hand till the ER came into view. She tried breathing in deeply before she caught sight of the blood on her hands, then stumbled to the bathroom. She felt numb as she scrubbed her hands free of all the blood and grime, breathing shakily. Her cell buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket, almost having it slip out of her wet hands. Emily.

“Piper, how is he?”

“Stable. He’s in surgery. They said he’ll be out in an hour. What’s happened to Hotch?”

“Reid didn’t tell you?”

“He tried. I was…” She took a deep breath. “I was too busy to listen and then Barton left and the next thing I know, he’s running and diving at Barton and now he’s…”

“Stop blaming yourself. He’s gonna be fine. So’s Hotch. Look, I can’t explain over the phone. Are you at Saint Sebastian?”

“Yeah, it was the closest, why?”

“Hotch is here too.”

“Wai— Why’s he in the hospital?” Piper’s voice broke.

“I can’t. Not over the phone. Morgan, Rossi and JJ are here, I’ll come over there and explain it all.”

Piper wrung her hands and paced, waiting for Spencer to come out of surgery and Emily to explain what happened to Hotch. Emily arrived first, her long hair adorning her weary face. “What happened?”

“Hotch was stabbed nine times.”

“Nine? Do we know who did it?” Emily nodded, motioning for her to take a seat.

“You ever hear the name George Foyet?”

“I think Spencer mentioned him when I got back from my sabbatical. Why?”

“Back when Hotch was starting out as a senior agent, he was one of his first cases. George Foyet is the name of the Boston Reaper.” Piper shook her head in disbelief.

“The guy that killed 20 people in the late 90s? Why’s he after Hotch?”

“Because he craves power. The lead detective from that case died a few months ago and Hotch is the last one left.” Emily rubbed her tired face and Piper squeezed her shoulder.

“We’ll get him,” Piper spoke softly. “You need to focus on Hotch.”

“But what about—”

“I’ve got Spencer. Don’t worry about him.” Emily wrapped her arms around Piper, whispering a thank you in her ear as Piper rubbed her back. “Go. Get Foyet.” Piper watched Emily nod stoically and leave until a nurse collected her to see Spencer. She walked in to see Spencer still pale, his hair strewn across the pillow. Murmuring a thanks to the nurse, Piper moved over to him, pulling up an armchair.

“How’s Hotch?”

“He’s stable. And strong as hell. He’ll survive.” Spencer nodded, sitting up in his bed. “What did it mean? L.C?”

“It’s an administrative term in hospitals when they're afraid a patient's gonna go on life support and they don't have a DNR order.”

“Meaning?” Spencer winced as he tried to adjust his leg.

“It stands for "living children." The unsub was trying to tell Dr. Barton that he was actually the target and that he's gonna leave his son without a father.” Piper nodded slowly, leaning back in her chair. “So, uh, what’s my diagnosis Doc?” Piper let a giggle out in relief.

“You’ve got a case of I’m-such-an-idiot-I-run-into-danger-without-telling-my-partner-itis.”

“That sounds familiar,” Spencer said, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to remember. Piper blushed slightly, recalling when she’d said it before. “Right. The anthrax case,” he chuckled. But Piper didn’t smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just uh, the doctor talked to me. She said you’re gonna heal but um… You’re gonna need crutches for 10 weeks.”

“Two and a half months?” Spencer slammed his head into his pillow.

“I think you’re missing out on the even brighter side of things,” Piper snorted derisively. “They aren’t gonna clear you for duty. Not for 2 more weeks.” He groaned as Piper chuckled. He got up, narrowing his eyes at her.

“This is funny?” Laughter erupted from her.

“Garcia’s right. For a smart boy, you ask a lot of dumb questions.” Spencer pouted.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. See if I care.” Chuckling, Piper pulled his hand closer, pressing a small kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“It means that if you have 2 weeks of bedrest, I get to sit and play nurse with you.” Spencer jerked his eyes open, realisation dawning on him. “It also means dinner,” she sang and earned a grin from him.

“Well, I guess kicking down doors is more Derek’s thing anyway.”

While the two agents kept smiling and talking about everything and nothing, Hotch lay in his bed, slipping in and out of consciousness, having sent the others to find and protect his family. Every time his eyes fluttered shut, he vividly remembered parts of what had happened. The plane had hit the tarmac and they’d all dispersed. He remembered the quiet as he unlocked his door, the only sound being a bone-weary sigh from his lips as he threw the briefcase on the couch and the keys into the dish along with his wallet and badge. He’d unholstered his gun and slid it on the coffee table before pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He gazed out the window of his apartment, about to take a sip of his drink when a husky voice came from behind the shadows. “You should have made the deal.”

Hotch turned around, grim faced and as neutral as ever, unflinching as the gunshot shot past his shoulder, echoing around the small room as it tore through the thin wall.

“Is this part of my profile?” The hooded man smiled behind his mask. “You can’t show me fear.”

“If you don’t see fear, it’s because I’m not afraid.” Hotch said, his polished voice unbetraying of emotion. “Are you here to kill me, or are you here to play games?”

“You tell me. Enlighten me about my behaviour.” Hotch remained silent and stoic as Foyet started to remove his mask. Just as Aaron glimpsed his face underneath, he slammed the glass of whisky into his face. Foyet staggered for only a moment before whipping Hotch across the face with his pistol. He watched Aaron fall to the floor and start reaching for his gun before he kicked into the side of his face. Aaron lay on his back, clutching his face before attempting to rise up until Foyet pistol-whipped him again and Aaron’s head collided with the hard floor. Foyet tossed the gun and pulled out an army knife. “Tell me, Aaron. Would I use this?” He straddled Aaron before plunging the knife deep into his chest and, just as Aaron relaxed, wrenched it back out. He caressed Aaron’s cheek with the knife, taunting him. He brought his lips inches away from Aaron’s ear. “Shh. Don't speak. You lost a lot of blood. You'll need your oxygen.” Foyet grinned a toothy smile. “Do you know how much you have to study the human body to stab yourself repeatedly and not die? I don't want to brag, but I'm somewhat of an expert,” Foyet shrugged as Hotch groaned quietly, feeling warm, thick liquid bleed through his shirt. “Would you like to see my scars?” His voice was little more than a whisper now. He stripped himself of his hoodie, then bulletproof vest and pulled his shirt over his head. Pale scars glistened in the lamp light. “You like 'em? Huh? Yours are gonna look just the same.” Hotch groaned as his eyes flickered open again, seeing Emily stand at his bedside.

“Hey boss.”

“You were at my place, right? Could you tell how he got in?” Hotch’s voice was more a whisper, a plea to his friend.

“I'm not sure. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I don't know. After he stabbed me the first time, it all goes blank.”

“How do you feel?”

“I'm gonna be ok.” He glanced back at the glass doorway, the ghost of his past flickering. “Haley,” he breathed. Emily patted his arm and squeezed Haley’s shoulder on her way out. He struggled to sit up straight as she sat on the bed next to him, a warm hand laying on his chest.

“Rest,” she breathed.

“Did they explain to you what's happening?”

“They said the marshals service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody.” Haley’s voice struggled to remain calm. She couldn’t be angry at the man she loved, broken in a hospital bed.

“Haley, I'm sorry.”

“Do you know where they're gonna take us? No, I don't. And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you.”

“Jack has school,” she whispered, her voice turning hollow. “He has friends. I have a job now.”

“I know. And I'm sorry. We will catch him, and you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

“Are you sure that we're in danger?”

“Yes.”

“And what about you?” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Are you gonna be safe?”

“He wants to see me suffer. Knowing that my son is out there and that I can't see him is better than killing me.”

“What am I supposed to say to Jack?” She felt tears tracing pain across her cheek.

“Tell him it's a vacation and that it's not gonna be for very long.”

“How am I supposed to keep him safe if there is no one I know to help me?”

“Haley, you're strong. You lived with me in this job, and you've practically raised Jack all by yourself. You're a great mother.” She nodded, wiping away the tears.

“Can you catch this man?”

“I will catch this man.” Haley nodded, recognising grit in her ex-husband’s face.

“Jack wants to come in.”

“I want to see him, too. I just don't think it's a good idea.”

“Look, I know you're trying to protect him. But you both need this. Please.” Aaron nodded stiffly and Haley left to collect Jack. He smiled softly seeing his beautiful son holding his mother’s hand as they walked in. She lifted Jack up onto his daddy’s bed.

“Hey buddy.” He saw Jack stare at the tubing in his chest. “Don't worry. It's ok. The doctors made sure that I'm completely fine. Did mommy tell you that you two are gonna take a trip?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I'm not gonna see you for a while.”

“Why?”

“Well, think about it like when daddy goes away for work. Only this time you and mommy get to go someplace. But what do I tell you every time I go away?”

“You love me.”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Are you ok?”

“I'm very proud of you. Every single day. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You take care of mom, okay?”

“Okay.” Jack kissed his daddy on the cheek before being led away by his mom. Piper watched them leave before leaning against the doorway.

“How are you feeling?” Piper’s voice was soft, fragile, as though another tragedy would silence her forever.

“I’m gonna be okay.” Piper scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s what this job does, right?” Piper sat next to Hotch in an armchair. “Emily told me about Foyet. I’m sorry—”

“There’s no need to apologise. You were on a break, recovering.”

“From a gunshot wound. I’d have been fine. But I should have been there and I’m sorry, boss.” They sat in silence for a while before Piper continued. “I saw Haley and Jack go off with the Marshal Service.”

“She’s strong. She’ll be fine.” She sensed that Hotch was saying it more for his benefit than hers.

“You could go with them.” Hotch looked at her warm, brown eyes. “We can take care of Foyet ourselves.” Hotch shook his head.

“No. I know the Boston Reaper better than anyone else and if I go into hiding, he’ll try to coax me out with more murders. I can’t live with that.” Piper nodded slowly. “There’s uh… something delicate I need to discuss with you.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a uh… form that’s going to be mailed to you. Usually, we don’t allow this kind of…relationship merely for practical purposes. But uh…” Piper looked confusedly at her boss.

“Hotch, I’m running on 2 hours of sleep. What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that there’s a policy regarding intimate relationships within the FBI.”

“Sir, are you talking about Kevin and Penelope?” Piper leaned back in her chair. “She’s gonna be devastated.”

“No,” he managed to get out. “I’m talking about you and Reid.” Piper shot up straight.

“No— Nothing’s happened. Wh—”

“Don’t even bother lying. There’s just a small formality with workplace relationships, that’s all.” Piper blinked twice.

“Sir, not to be blunt, but you just got stabbed nine times. You’re worried about my relationship with Spencer?” Piper swore she saw a smile flash on Hotch’s face.

“Let’s just say, I understand the importance of having good people in your life.” His eyes flickered to Rossi standing in the doorway. “Speaking of good people.”

“Piper, get out for a sec, will you? Let me suck up to the boss.” Piper chuckled as she left the ward to join the others.

“Hey, how’s Spencer?” JJ asked.

“He's gonna be fine. He's gonna have to be on crutches for a while, but he said kicking down doors is Morgan's job, anyway.” They all smiled but Derek’s face was still grim.

“You know, Foyet having your credentials had nothing to do with any of this. It was just his way of trying to torture you.”

“Yeah, I know. Foyet's about power and control. He was hoping to watch me fall apart, and... Now he wants to destroy Hotch.” He glanced down through the window at Hotch’s family getting into the dark sedan without him.

“Exactly,” Emily said firmly as they followed his gaze. “That's his plan, and now we fight it.”

#agent derek morgan #agent prentiss #agent jareau #agent hotchner #agent morgan #agent garcia #agent rossi #bau #bau x oc #dr piper bishop #dr bishop #criminal minds #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #derek morgan #emily prentiss #emily #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #garcia #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner #jj #jareau #oc #papa rossi #david rossi

[ecofinisher]

¡Vamos a España! - Chap 30

Chapter 30

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442912/chapters/75755441

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13819897/30/Vamos-a-Espa%C3%B1a

https://www.wattpad.com/1056069132-%C2%A1vamos-a-espa%C3%B1a-chapter-30

At the docks near the fishing bait store, Enrico‘s father stood along with another man in front of a carriage waiting together for Enrico and Ernesto to show up by them.

„Where are they?“ Asked the man looking at the father of Enrico.

„They should be at the docks coming down here,“ The father of Enrico responded walking behind the house to look at the road to see on the road the two boys run in his direction. „There they are,“ The father commented, then the friend stood beside him to see them.

„It passed midnight, they‘re almost half an hour delayed,“ The man pointed out watching the father move forward to come closer to the boys, then in the middle, the boys arrived and stopped in front of the father.

„Dad, you can‘t believe, what we saw!“ Enrico shouted. „We saw three strange-looking animals and something like a dragon hybrid!“

„What?!?“ Asked the father shocked. „Ernesto, is he serious?“

„The dragon flew behind Enrico into Rollan‘s house and I think it hunted him,“

„What has he done to you?“ The father asked looking at his son.

„She threw me around the bedroom snarling at me, while she protected those three strange cubs. They had long ears, a thick nose and I don‘t know how to explain it….they look like rabbits, but weirder,“ Enrico explained. „They‘re about the size of the Tomato red fox we found the other day,“

„Alright, did you two notice anything about the dragon?“ The father asked earning a nod from the two boys.

„I didn‘t see quite much. It flew fast into the house,“ Ernesto commented.

„It was about a head taller than me and the wings seemed to be really wide too. I couldn‘t see them fully open,“

„Wow, I really hope you two are talking real about this,“ The friend of the father said shrieking Ernesto.

„We‘re saying the truth. That dragon-thing could have killed us, I have no idea how Enrico made it out of there,“

„I didn‘t know it either. The dragon was about to claw me with her hand, but she purposely missed me,“ Enrico commented earning a nod from the father.

„And whose house is that again you broke in?“ The father asked, then Enrico showed the father the book.

„You know about Rollan, that guy that got one of your members arrested the other week,“ Enrico asked earning a nod from the man. „We found out he had a dark moment in his past, which he never told anyone about it and it‘s inside this book here. If we hand this out to Lieutenant Roberto and point him this out Rollan is most likely to get arrested and we have a nose less out of your business,“ Enrico explained opening the book to his father, then he took it to look through.

„Ernesto, how again did those brown cubs look like, which you encountered in Rollan‘s room?“ The father asked.

„They could stay on their hind legs, they have a long, round nose and their ears are slim but long. I think it passes over their neck,“

„I think those creatures are more worth than anything else we‘ve caught over the months,“ The father said turning the book to show an illustration with three similar cubs and three grown trolls standing around a burning building. „I need you two to go back to his house in the upcoming days to catch those cubs and bring them into our hideout,“

„But…..what about the dragon?“ Enrico asked making the father snort.

„Don‘t you worry about it. Take the net launcher and when she appears again take her down,“ The father suggested. „If you think you need a third person, Alejandro can come with you,“ The father offered earning a nod from Enrico.

„Alright, father. As soon as possible?“

„Of course,“ The father commented. „Just warn Alejandro when you plan to go and we‘re good,“ Explained the man earning a nod from the son.

„Have you already got a plan?“ Ernesto asked his friend, which saw Enrico show him the book.

„We can already use this tomorrow against Rollan. If he gets arrested, we can take the chance of his absence and take the cubs to us,“ Explained Enrico making Ernesto shrug his shoulder. „What‘s up?

„Nothing. I‘m just feeling like we‘re ruining his life for no specific reason,“

„If we get rid of him, no one will make sure we and my dad land behind the grid. Come on, you‘re acting like we‘re planning to kill him. Be happy he at least stays alive,“ „Enrico commented earning a nod from Ernesto.

„Sure, I think you‘re right there,“

„You better not think about that boy. Come and get up on the carriage. We got work to do,“ The man announced watching the boys get up on the carriage, so the rest of the team got up and made their way out of there heading into the town.

The friends of Rollan were at the beach sitting on the sand together. Rollan wore his shorts only along with Kai, which wore a similar pair to his, but they were tightened on his waist with a belt due to having a smaller taille than the older boy. Alfida wore her red-white colored underclothing and Gerda wore on as well, but in white color only.

„I assumed you all had actual swimsuits,“ Rollan commented making the girls shake their heads.

„I obviously have never needed one in my life,“ Alfida mentioned. „When I learned to swim I had clothes on like everyone else,“

„We‘re supposed to wear clothes. Are you thinking it would be nice to see everyone walk around here naked?“ Kai asked making his girlfriend shake her head.

„Down here we wear swimsuits. Women mostly. Men usually have like me and Kai any sort of shorts on,“ Rollan explained. „You girls are still covered in the swimsuits, besides your legs and arms. Like most of the girls and women, you see here around us,“

„Maybe on our next trip we gather some money for them,“ Alfida pointed out. „I still got a bit, but I saved it up for food,“

„Same here,“ Kai added. „Mostly for the way back home.“

„About the way home, will you go directly or will you do stops as well?“ Questioned the Spaniard.

„Gerda and I have a job back there. If we got there and still have it it‘s a big luck for us to have such a comprehensive boss,“ Alfida pointed out earning a nod from the raven-haired boy.

„That‘s kind of cool if your boss is really like that,“ Rollan commented. „But what if you both lose it?“

„Then we look for a new one,“ Alfida commented. „I don‘t think I lose my job that easy. Gerda, I have no idea. So far I know not many people are interested to work in a library as she does,“

„I can always help my parents at the store until I find something else if it happens,“ Gerda explained. „I came with you, cause I wanted to make sure we could bring the cubs back home safely and I would as well be able to see Rollan for a bit,“ Gerda commented placing her hand on his arm, making him smile.

„Is anyone going to swim actually?“ Kai asked looking at the trio, then Alfida shrugged and looked at Rollan and Gerda.

„I thought that was the point of our date unless you want to build sandcastles or bury yourself inside the sand,“ Rollan suggested. „Or we can ask to join the group up there at the other side of the beach to play beach volleyball,“

„I‘m not sure, what you will pick but I‘m going to take a swim,“ Gerda announced getting up on the sand to walk into the water and looked back at her friends. „Anyone else joining?“

„I stay here and build a sandcastle,“ Kai responded watching Alfida begin to dig with her hands in the sand to collect it.

„Rollan?“ Gerda asked watching Rollan ran into the water and jump into it to pass beside her and swim further. Gerda followed him from the side watching him holding his pace well without getting tired fast. Gerda tried to hold up with him paddling with her feet faster and Rollan rolled his eyes back to see his girlfriend trying to get closer to him, then he smiled and stopped floating on the surface. Gerda got closer to him, then stopped in front of him holding herself up with her hands above the water.

„You swim fast,“ Gerda mentioned. „Is it because of the practice?“

„I think so,“ Rollan responded. „I haven‘t noticed this before. We‘re all at the academy about the same speed. Important was it to be able to swim well when we joined the academy,“ Rollan explained and lied himself up on the water of the surface closing his eyes while floating with his entire body on the shallow.

„What are you doing?“ Gerda asked making the boyfriend chuckle.

„Floating over the surface. It‘s quite easy. You just have to remain calm and let your lungs do the work,“ Rollan said slowly sinking with his legs into the water and he kept his body above the shoulders out of the water. „Take a bit of breath and lie yourself up above the water,“ Rollan taught the girl, which slowly lied herself up on the surface and tried to remain on the surface, then slowly her arms got down under the water and Gerda got up again on the surface.

„Wait, I have to try it again,“ Gerda said repeating the deed, then Rollan held one of his hands under her back to assist her in holding her equilibrium over water.

„I‘m holding you, stay relaxed,“ Rollan commanded, then Gerda closed her eyes and stretched her arms and legs, holding her breath a little. Rollan removed his hand slowly watching the girl breathe out while being on top of the shallow. Rollan smiled, then Gerda opened her eyes to see she was floating, then she began to sink again, afterward, she disappeared with her body underwater leaving her head out.

„It was better than the first time,“ Rollan pointed out earning a nod from the blonde.

„I‘m surely better in sinking down than staying above the water…..hey wait a moment, what about we two challenge each other on who holds the air the longest?“ Gerda asked making her boyfriend shrug his shoulders.

„Hmm….good,“ Rollan responded.

„Three, two, one, dive!“ Gerda counted covering her nose along with Rollan to dive under the water. Rollan came out first to gasp after breath, then seconds later Gerda came up raising her first in victory. „1 to 0!“

„Uno, dos, tres!“ Rollan shouted diving down along with his girlfriend to see, who would win this time and both came out at the same time out of the water. „Wow, didn‘t expect this,“

„ Uno, dos, tres!“ Gerda counted making Rollan grin at her try, then he dived down along with the girlfriend. Several seconds later Rollan came out and wished his bangs aside and looked down to see Gerda was still inside the water making him drop his chin in surprise, then Gerda came out to gasp for breath.

„Wow that was long,“ Gerda said earning a nod from her boyfriend, then he took a look at her hair noticing that she had her hair ties on, while she was swimming.

„You know you don‘t need to wear your ties on your hair during swimming,“ Rollan pointed it out, then Gerda looked at them.

„Oh, I forgot to take them off. I rarely take them off you know,“

„You will look without them just as beautiful as you are with them,“ Rollan complimented making Gerda smile enamored with the Spaniard.

„Well with the time I‘m in the water I could as well lose them by mistake,“ Gerda mentioned taking the ties off her hair and adjusted her hair, while Rollan observed her showing her straight hair. „And? What do you say?“

„Muy bonita,“ Complimented the raven-haired boy watching Gerda‘s hair points lie over the surface earning Rollan‘s attention, which swum beside her to look at their length. „You should more often have your hair open,“ Suggested Rollan watching Gerda smile at him amorously, seeing him get flirty with her, then she had an idea and pushed him into the water and swam away laughing amused. Rollan got out with his head and smirked at her invitation to play, then Rollan began to swim behind her and dived down underwater to pursue the girlfriend from under there and he returned to the surface and grabbed her by the feet to stop her, then she splashed with her hands against Rollan to free herself from him and made her way back towards the beach, followed by Rollan which got over the deed.

„Come and get me, if you can!“ Gerda chanted making Rollan laugh, which followed her to the beach, then made it to be near her almost arriving at land, where Kai and Alfida had made a simple castle out of the sand.

„I‘m getting you, Gerda,“ Rollan warned making Gerda chuckle, then she stopped as she felt the ground under her feet and Rollan passed beside her pointing to the sand advising her the race wasn‘t over making Gerda shake her head amused, then she hopped at Rollan to push him down landing with him in the water and she laughed at their fall, then looked at Rollan, which had his back out of the water and he rolled around to face Gerda, which was sitting over him gazing at his eyes.

„I‘m the winner, right?“ Gerda asked noticing Rollan gaze into her eyes distracted, then she shook her head knowing he was paralyzed by her deed, then she moved aside and sat down on the ground afterward Rollan copied her and looked at her.

„You won a lot today,“ Rollan responded watching Gerda smile and lean her cheek on his shoulder. „Most importantly, my full attention to you,“

„With you now, I am having the best time of my life,“

„That‘s good to know. You deserve so much more, mi amor. Much, much more,“ Admitted Rollan grabbing her hand to hold it tight on his chest.

„I want this time here with you to last forever,“ Gerda gushed leaning her forehead on her boyfriend‘s. „I‘m enjoying every single second with you,“

„Ah so romantic!“ A voice said interrupting the couple in the water, then Rollan frowned as he recognized the voice and saw behind himself and Gerda the boy Enrico come along with two guards and Gerda dropped her mouth as the police were accompanying the boy.

Rollan looked at Gerda worried, then Gerda grabbed his hand and shook her head so he would understand he should not worry.

„It really is,“ Gerda commented making Enrico roll his eyes and throw from his backpack out the Snow Queen book, which he stole from Rollan‘s bedroom.

„I‘ve shown the guards here your book, Rollan,“ Enrico spoke. „You have two choices. You admit it or you lie to everyone as you did before,“

„What are you talking about?“ Gerda started. „It‘s just a book,“

„Yes and this book here describes a certain man with the exact name and looks as your novio perfecto attempting to commit murder on an entire species and a few humans in order to rule the kingdom there. The funny thing, this happened during the time you were absent from Spain,“ Enrico commented making Gerda shake her head.

„It could be a coincidence,“ Gerda lied, then Enrico opened the book to show her a page, where Rollan looked like himself, then swiped to another page, where he transformed into a fire-themed character and moved to the last pages to show him trapping Gerda in the tombs. „Oh, you look just like this girl here in the illustration,“ Enrico commented. „Guards, she‘s also lying you see,“ Enrico warned watching both guards take out their swords to aim at the two, shrieking the couple at the water.

„Hey, hey, hey! Hold the horses. This happened a long time ago. He was pardoned by the king,“ Alfida commented getting up from the ground, then took out from the ground her chevrons to show it to the guards, so they would know she‘s a member of King Harald‘s palace‘s guards. „King Harald cleaned his reputation after he risked his life to save…..his son‘s life,“ Alfida made up earning a nod from Gerda and Rollan, which played along.

„Guards, I‘m Gerda, the girl, that defeated the Snow Queen seven years ago. On this day here Rollan and I were possessed by the demons of the Snow Queen and the Fire Demon, the only difference was, that Rollan couldn‘t manage in time to free himself from the demon and was used as a slave to fight people. The real Rollan wasn‘t even aware of what was going on,“

„Rollan assumed his responsibility for what happened, his penalty just didn‘t get fulfilled to 100% because this situation occurred with the king and he got reunited with Gerda to solve this situation,“ Alfida made up.

„And that‘s why he‘s free, cause he saved someone and…...he was forgiven and all,“ Kai added earning a nod from the girlfriend.

„They‘re friends. They‘re lying!“ Enrico warned watching the guards ponder.

„Alright, look as long as I haven‘t heard it personally from the king or in any way, but I received a complaint from Enrico and an anonymous person and I need to at least take him with me and keep him locked out as long as we manage to obtain any information from your king,“ The first guard explained. „If I find out you‘re all lying to save your friend, you‘re going into the same location as your friend here,“

„If you need his address, look it up behind the chevrons I've got,“ Alfida mentioned showing him the backside of the textile earning a nod from the guard.

„But King Harald doesn‘t know anything about that,“ Rollan whispered to Gerda.

„Don‘t worry, we find a way out to help you, I promise,“ Gerda said getting up along with Rollan, then Rollan walked towards the guard, which grabbed Rollan‘s arms and placed them behind his back, then placed around his hands handcuffs and looked at his friends.

„You three can visit your friend one hour each day. As long as he doesn‘t come into ideas,“ The guard said earning a nod from the trio.

„Will you tell my mom about it?“ Rollan asked Gerda, which nodded. „Will you also make sure that the boys are safe?“

„Orm is there, don‘t worry,“ Gerda assured earning a nod from Rollan, then the guard placed his hand behind Rollan‘s neck and moved forward along with the other guard, then Enrico closed the book and threw it on the sand.

„I won‘t need this anymore,“ Enrico said walking away behind the guards, making Gerda frown and look at her friends.

„Rollan just got taken. We need to figure out how to get him out of there,“ Gerda mentioned earning a nod from her brother.

„Why didn‘t they just buy our lie or more important. Why do they believe in a silly book?“ Kai asked making Gerda shrug her shoulders.

„My issue here is on how they just arrest Rollan when the crime happened on the outside of Spain. Usually, he‘s supposed to get punished back in the troll kingdom,“

„Yeah, I think so. Look I don‘t know if you‘re going to stay here, but I‘m going to look for Rollan‘s mother and tell her what happened,“ Gerda said picking up a towel Rollan borrowed her, so she could dry herself.

„Gerda wait up, we‘re coming with you, „Kai mentioned earning a nod from his sister, and began to put on his shirt to get ready to leave with the girls.

#ecofinisher #ecofinisherfanfics #wattpad #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #snow queen #snow queen mirrorlands #Снежная королева #снежная королева герда и роллан #снежная королева роллан #герда и роллан #updated

[dailyaudiobible]

03/12/2021 DAB Transcript

Numbers 16:41-18:32, Mark 16:1-20, Psalms 55:1-23, Proverbs 11:7

Today is the 12th day of March welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it's great to be here with you today as we continue our journey, the journey that leads us through the Bible in a year. And we’re well on our way in that journey. But there is so much out in front of us to experience and see. And, so, we have a grateful heart for the distance that we’ve traveled and the things we've learned so far. But we also have a grateful, an anticipation, a grateful anticipation, for all that is yet to…to be, all it is out in front of us. But we’re here. We’re right here right now. And, so, the next step forward is before us. We’ve been reading from the New International Version this week. Picking up from yesterday. Numbers chapter 16 verse 41 through 18 verse 32.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. And as we bring to a close the second of the gospel narratives, the book of Mark, we thank You for the witness to Your life and to Your ministry and to Your personality and to Your posture. We've witnessed Your determination to bring the truth out into the open and that the false be eradicated. And yet we’re 2000 years in the future and we’re still in the same struggle. And, so, come Holy Spirit You have promised to lead us into all truth and yet so often we choose to veil ourselves in something false because we’re naked and ashamed and running because we’re afraid to be exposed. And so often that comes because we…we’re ashamed. And maybe for good reason. Maybe we have plenty of things that we’ve been involved in while bearing Your name that we shouldn't have been involved in, and were they exposed we would be ashamed. But we’re here with open hands and open hearts saying remove these things from us, reveal these things to us, reorganize our lives, bring us back into complete alignment so that we are who we are supposed to be, and we have nothing to hide, we are true, we are true and righteous before You. Come Holy Spirit we pray. Make us more like Jesus, that we might be conformed to his likeness, that we would be Christ like, that we would be like Christ. Come Jesus we pray. In Your precious name, we ask. Amen.

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You push that and it opens up a drawer and then you find like the Community section, which is where the Prayer Wall is and where we…we continually pray for each other and ask for prayer. So, be aware of that. That's also where there are different links to social media channels we participate in. So, the Community section, that's where to find these things.

Also check out the daily audio Bible Shop. There are resources there for our journey that kinda cover all kinds of different spectrums.

Check out the Daily Audio Bible Wind Farm coffee. We roast it fresh and send it to you whether you just want to bag or whether you'd like a couple bags delivered per month. We can do that. There's a whole coffee club or coffee or tea club. I have been a coffee snob a long, long time but I have found deep love for tea as well and usually throughout the course of a day drink some of both. So, I’m…I’m kinda in the middle there. But I…I love them both and love what we’re doing in sourcing these and roasting these and offering them fresh. It's a tactile thing. When it shows up its this touch point in the mail that we’re a community and we’re going through this together. And I drink coffee well I'm doing the Daily Audio Bible, while we’re doing this work. And, so, at least for me it's just a reminder constantly of a community out there all over the world seeking God through the Scriptures, seeking direction and clarity for life and seeking community together. And, so, all these little things like coffee and tea, all these different resources connect us together in one way or another. And, so, check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible in the mission that we hold in common to just keep day by day step-by-step taking the next step forward, bringing the Scriptures fresh every day offering them to the world and taking the journey in community, sailing across a year together on the voyage of a lifetime. If that is something that matters to you then thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, of course, as always, we’re a community that prays for each other. And if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello, my dear DAB family this is Maria Missionary in Mexico. So, as you know we are here to be a service to the people the missionaries who work among the native indigenous people groups here. A lot of people ask, “why are you in Mexico? Isn't it a reached country already?” You know what? Missions has evolved through the years and I think of the old days people just kind of thought that if they came spoke the national language to…to the native people, that they would understand, get saved, and that would be that but it just didn't work out like that and a lot of the people have…have syncretism, which is they took Christianity just kind of what they understood of it which wasn't a lot and mixed it with their native beliefs. And, so, for example in the Guataheal tribe they believe that the sun in the sky is god the moon is his wife and they had two children, they had Satan and Jesus and Satan is the older brother. They are the children of god and the rest of us in the world are the rest children are the devil. And their god only speaks Guataheal, he doesn't speak Spanish or any other language. So, if you go to them and tell them we have a message for you from God in Spanish well you can imagine they automatically dismiss you because it doesn't make sense to them culturally. So, that's just a little bit of a taste of what missionaries that work among native groups face as they translate the Bible and love these people and help them with their physical needs and plant churches. So, please be praying. Please be praying for missionaries who do work among them, that they would have wisdom, and that…that hearts would be open to hear the truth. Also praise the Lord with us that there is a church now among the Guadaheal people, a young church and that there are missionaries from among them as well helping with the translation and one lady and her husband are reaching out to an entirely new tribe for her. So, that's really exciting.

Hey neighbors it's Lisa the Encourager. Today I want to reach out to Maria and her daughter Taylor. And I heard your story and it really gripped me. And I just can't even imagine what your heart must be feeling every day thinking about your sweet Taylor that you gave birth to and you never dreamed that something so awful could happen to her. And I just pray tonight especially for Taylor and I just want you to know that my heart aches for you and I know that God is gonna be able to see this through for you and I am going to pray now. Dear God thank You for Maria and thank You for her being brave to call us this evening and tell us about Taylor and Taylor’s story Lord. And we know that You love Taylor so much and You do not want this for her life. And God thank You so much for the ministry of the men that are going to intervene in Taylor's life and do their best to take her out of the horrible situation with somebody. And I pray God that that will be successful. I thank You so much for the bravery of those men and I just pray that they will be…and women…I pray that they will be able to convince Taylor to leave and that You will just break her heart and help her to give up and surrender to You Lord. And I just pray God that You will forgive her and help her to get her life back and lead her with the Holy Spirit back to You.

Hello DAB family this is Greg from Bothell. I…I've called before for…for my own prayer requests but today I just feel led to…to reach out and…and let some DABbers know that I'm…I’m listening to…to your requests and I want to just take the time to acknowledge you all. Just I've been behind a little bit and I'm going through the 5th of…of…of March and I listened to Lynn and her family, her grandchildren, her four grown children and her daughter and this unbeliever husband that's inattentive. I just I'm going pray that Lord Jesus just will open his eyes and…and…and…and reveal himself to…to this this family and this father that…that…that he will take care of you and…and keep you in…in…in his loving arms. Maria follower of Jesus, daughter Taylor 26 that's in this…this relationship with this man that's pimped her out and she's…she's involved in drugs and prostitution and this massage parlor and…and…and team Andrew that's going in to rescue her. O Lord Jesus just…I just pray for Taylor and Maria and Andrew that You would…that You would be there in the midst this that You would come Lord. O my God Lord rescue Taylor and bring her home. O Lord Jesus and…and…and Julie in southern Illinois, your marriage, that God God…that God use you and He knows your heart and He knows your husband's heart. And Lord I just pray that You rescue Julie in her desperation and her sadness. In her loneliness she says she's lost…

Good morning DAB. Good morning DAB family it's Nadene calling from East to Midwest praises to God. Woo…out of breath…I just lifted something, but anyway praises to God. This morning as I was listening to Brian March 9th and listening to the prayer requests. There's so much I could pray for. And add to all who had prayed for all the others…others who had asked for prayer I just want to say DAB family we are a strong bunch. I mean those who are going through things right now it's so difficult. And, you know, of course I won't make light of it, but we are winning. You are on a winning team. It's a fixed fight and we've already won the fight. God is so good and I just love the fact that this DAB team is getting stronger and bolder and we are praying in faith and we are believing in faith and we're gonna to win. We're gonna win. So, let's keep our eyes with eyes looked to eternity and from eternity because it's just one big story, God's story and we are blessed to be a part of it. It's not an easy…not an easy journey. Once you become, you know, a follower of Jesus we have a target on our back and somehow, it's an honor to know that the enemy feels that…feels that we are such a threat. Anyway, God bless you everybody and I just wanted to put my log in the fire. Nadene from East to Midwest. God bless.

Hello Daily Audio Bible community my name is Kelly from Boston Mass and I called in last fall. My husband and I have been separated for almost a year. It'll be a year this month and I called in for prayers of reconciliation and restoration in healing. And we had our first grandchild that was due to arrive or did arrive on New Year's Day. So, it was a beautiful way to start the 2021 year out. We celebrated our 32nd wedding anniversary last Thursday night. Ironically, I was listening to Brian because it was his anniversary with DAB. And it was…it just breathed some life into me that there might be some light or some kind of shift in my husband's heart for us to restore our marriage. I can feel little nudges from God here and there and I'm trying to pay attention to them. We have a long way to go but I just want prayers from all of you if you can that this 32 year marriage can be saved. We hadn't seen each other in a couple of months, and we had very little communication, but it was probably one of the nicer anniversary dinners we've had in many years. So, again I'm just praying and hopeful that God will find our way…help us find our way back to each other and have a healing and happy second half to our marriage and a beautiful ending together with our first grandson born on New Year's Day. I appreciate the prayers and I pray for you all on a daily basis. I love this app. Thank you.

Good morning family it is Wednesday March 10th. Good morning good morning. I'm calling in a prayer request anonymously. Hence, I have gotten myself into a pickle. I have taken my eyes off Christ and put them on myself and what I want and what I desire and who I desire and how I can get what I want. And spoiler alert it's a hot mess. O my goodness friends and family, turns out when you take your eyes off Christ and you focus only on yourself it's harmful and sin is the result and sin damages relationships. And, so, I'm watching the fallout of all these relationships be harmed because I took my eyes off God and put them on myself. Friends, cautionary tale. If you would lift me up and just really help me put my eyes back on God and what He wants and the work He has for me and prayers for the healing of the relationships I've damaged through my sin. Thank you, friends and family. Peace to you.

[cousinmarcustalkswrestling]

Best NXT Matches of 2020 - The Top 5

5

DIY vs Moustache Mountain - Worlds Collide

Man that Worlds Collide card was great. This was a simple tag team dream match between two awesome tag teams that have never really crossed paths. Crazy talented Tyler Bate has some silky smooth wrestling sequences with Gargano and Ciampa that makes me clamor for singles matches with both of them. Ciampa and Seven have a funny posedown where Seven bows out before he officially hold his L. Its a fatphobic moment, but I ain’t gon trip. It’s a playful babyface tag match until Ciampa remembers that he’s a psychopath and he decks Seven with a forearm. Repentant babyface Gargano joins Ciampa and superkicks Bate and from there this match takes off with high octane action and some creative sequences.

Ciampa and Gargano tear into Bate and Seven gets the hot tag in a fun reversal of how they usually do things. Gargano hits the Final Beat DDT at the same time that Ciampa hits the Widows Bell DDT. Bate goes for a flying back elbow on Ciampa, but gets V Triggered out of the sky. There’s a great sequence where Gargano tilt-a-whirls into Gargano Escape on Bate, but Bate counters to the Airplane Spin, but Gargano rides him back down into it. Ciampa locks in a double armbar on Seven and we got a flashback to DIY vs Revival at Toronto. Bate and Seven escaped the stereo submissions and we get a fun double airplane spin. Bate accidentally rebound clotheslines Seven and they have a sweet moment where Seven protects Bate from Meeting in the Middle. They coldcock DIY though and land a sweet Burning Hammer/Flying Knee combo on Ciampa. In the end, DIY kills Seven with Meeting in the Middle and end this dream match.

4

Finn Balor vs Kyle O’Reilly - NXT Title - Takeover 31

Kyle O’Reilly being in the main event of a Takeover was a pretty far out idea, but one torn shoulder and a seemingly unplanned 30 day turnaround between Takeovers has made it so. Balor beat Adam Cole for the vacant title on September 8 and O’Reilly won a Gauntlet Eliminator for the title shot two weeks later. NXT’s always succinct video packages edged Kyle babyface and boiled him down to a dude who just really loves wrestling. And wrestling is exactly what we get. Not just wrestling, but some of the best pure wrestling of the year.  This is a great display of matwork, pacing, and psychology. This reminds me of Shingo vs Ibushi from the G1, where they could easily go full throttle all action, but instead they’re way more patient and we still get a great match from it.

Kyle has an awesome performance here as his selling is super sympathetic, while his work attacking Finn’s arms and legs is vicious. Finn, in my favorite Balor incarnation as The Prince, appropriately responds with his own nasty offense. In particular, one spinning kick looks like it ruptures Kyle’s spleen. Kyle goes for a cross armbreaker at one point and there’s a great sequence as we get a close up view of Balor’s fingers unlocking one by one until Kyle locks the armbreaker all the way in. Kyle legit breaks Finn’s jaw with a running knee in the corner and shortly after that, Finn ends it with the Coup De Grace. The ending was a leeeeetle too sudden and out of nowhere for understandable reasons. It definitely feels like they had a 4-5 more minutes to really build to their ending. No matter what, its an excellent wrestling match that basically sealed Finn as NXT’s male wrestler of the year and elevated Kyle to another level.

3

The Broserweights vs The Undisputed Era - Tag Team Titles - Takeover Portland

You know that point in long-ish tag matches where there’s a hot tag and everything breaks down and everything is just super entertaining chaos. This match is like that from the start and its awesome. There’s a relentless amount of double teams, nearfalls, nearfall saves, and momentum shifts. I had the very sneaky suspicion that one of the Broserweights were gonna turn on each other. The match kinda supported my theory because there’s moments where Dunne accidentally hits Riddle & moments where Riddle accidentally hits Dunne. Throughout it all, the Broserweights win this tornado of a match and take the tag titles. This was by far the best tag team match I saw this year. Unfortunately, the pandemic forcing Dunne to England and Riddle’s sexual assault allegations and call down to Raw broke up this team and completely derailed NXT’s tag team division for the entire year.

2

Candice Lerae, Toni Storm, Dakota Kai, & Raquel Gonzalez vs Shotzi Blackheart, Io Shirai, Rhea Ripley, & Ember Moon - War Games Match - Takeover War Games

Once the Charlotte experiment was over, the women of NXT were featured more and more on TV and emerged in the fall as the best division in the world that carried the show while the fellas were affected by injuries and weird direction and stuff. Shotzi and Candice lead their stacked teams to this WarGames match that felt like a violent feather in the cap of a tremendous year for the ladies.

Ember & Dakota start things off and have a great five minute segment showing off their chemistry before Shotzi comes in. The babyfaces having the advantage is an odd decision, but they work pretty simply and Dakota is crafty enough to not make it a weird dynamic where she turns herself face. Big Momma Raquel is next and things get ugly for the faces. Rhea is next and has a great staredown and brawl with Raquel. Toni Storm is next and she chooses violence bringing in numerous kendo sticks and takes off the turnbuckle pads. The action is brutal, creative, and constant and very rarely feels phony or choreographed. There’s a required Tower of Doom spot and a lot of weapon shots. Io Shirai is next and she wants to introduce more weapons, but Raquel keeps her out with a few hard big boots. Io dropkicks a chair into her face, but Toni locks the door to keep Io out. Candice Lerae is finally in and she has Indi Hartwell take out Io so the heels keep their handicap advantage, but the match can’t officially start without Io. In one of the funniest spots of the year, Io climbs to the top of the cage puts a garbage can over her head and leaps onto everybody.

With the match officially started, we get a bunch of super entertaining action. Rhea and Io have some awesome tag team moves, Ember hits Dakota with a crazy Eclipse two chairs, Shotzi sentons Candice off a ladder onto chairs. Its an awesome blend of skillful wrestling, creative spots, and brutality. In the end, Raquel catches Io going for a super rana and powerbombs her through a ladder to secure the win for Team Candice. An awesome spectacle of lady excellence.

1

Io Shirai vs Rhea Ripley - Women’s Title - November 18

Io Shirai had an incredible year as Women’s champion and saved the title from the terribly booked Charlotte reign, by being one of the most consistent performers in the world and having great matches with the every name worth a damn in NXT. Rhea’s momentum from early this year was severely damaged by her disappearance after her loss to Charlotte Flair, but she slowly recovered, had some damn good matches and before you know it, she had all her swag back. It makes sense for this to be a big match up, but the unique thing about it is that Io Shirai took the initiative to call out Ripley. That instantly gave their match a very different dynamic that they play into and we got one of the best matches of the entire year.

Io’s brings the aggressive mentality of her challenge to the match and goes right after Rhea. She gets the best of her with her athleticism until Rhea yanks her into an electric chair drop on the apron. Even when she’s being overpowered though, she never alters her approach and she never sticks and moves. Staying in the pocket with Rhea is a dangerous proposition, but Io is just that crazy. Io slips out of a superplex attempt and delivers a sick German suplex from the turnbuckle. As great of a powerhouse that Rhea is, her bumping and selling is brilliant and she really puts over Io’s damage. Rhea gets extra angry after booting the hell out of Io, but Io snatches her left arm and goes crazy trying to disable Rhea and limit her power.

Rhea is still strong lady and gets a superplex and her reverse cloverleaf while still selling the arm, but when she goes for the Riptide, Io brilliantly counters to a cross armbreaker. Rhea escapes and decapitates Io with a clothesline, but Io counters another Riptide attempt to a spike DDT. In the awesome final sequence, Io catches Rhea on the apron with a sunset flip powerbomb THROUGH THE ANNOUNCE TABLE!! Rhea is a dead woman, but she manages to drag her corpse in the ring, but as soon as she crawls in to beat the count, Io crushes her with a moonsault to the back and ends this classic match. Great unexpected psychology, great selling, great finish,. The Ladies of NXT just got better and better as the year went on and this is probably their crown jewel example.

#2020 #wrestling #nxt #io shirai #rhea ripley #shotzi blackheart #candice lerae #toni storm #raquel gonzalez #ember moon #dakota kai #finn balor #kyle oreilly #undisputed era #matt riddle #pete dunne #diy #johnny gargano #tommaso ciampa #moustache mountain #tyler bate #trent seven

[ftaramintas]

            hi  friends  !  i’m  koa  and  every  time  you  see  miss  jennie  kim  on  your  dash  ,  then  you’ll  be  greeted  with  the  strong  presence  that  is  araminta  park  !  you  are  absolutely  correct  if  you  know  i  got  her  name  from  the  beautiful  araminta  lee  from  crazy  rich  asians  ,  and  that’s  that  on  that  .  

            i  use  emojis  way  too  much  in  conversations  ,  specifically  my  favorites  exhibit  a.  🥺  ,  b.  🥴  ,  c.  🤠  ,  and  d.  🤪  .  i  talk  too  much  sometimes  and  i  don’t  find  that  to  be  a  bad  thing  ,  but  right  now  i’m  listening  to  itzy’s  new  album  on  loop  ,  so  make  sure  you’re  streaming  wannabe  or  we’re  gonna  fight  !  i’m  just  kidding  ,  but  without  further  ado  ,  here’s  everything  you  need  to  know  about  araminta  !

statistics  .

FULL  NAME  :  araminta  josephine  park  .

NICKNAME(S)  :  ari  ,  minta  ,  and  minnie  (  by  her  parents  only  )  .

BIRTHDATE  /  AGE  :  july  25th  ,  1997  /  23  .

ZODIAC  :  leo  .

HOMETOWN  :  manhattan  ,  new  york  .

GENDER  :  cis  female  .

NATIONALITY  :  korean - american  .

ETHNICITY  :  korean  .

HEIGHT  :  5′4″  .

LABEL(S)  :  the  queen  bee  ,  the  studious  ,  and  the  opulent  .

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION  :  biromantic  .

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION  :  bisexual  .

OCCUPATION  :  architecture  student  at  steinhardt  university  .

HOUSING  :  perry  hall  .

LANGUAGES  SPOKEN  :  korean  ,  english  ,  french  ,  and  learning  portuguese  .

POSITIVES  :  bewitching  ,  regiment  ,  decorous  ,  methodical  ,  and  distinguished  .

NEGATIVES  :  unvarnished  ,  zealous  ,  cavalier  ,  hard - hearted  ,  and  priggish  .

background  .

            araminta’s  story  begins  with  the  fateful  meeting  of  her  parents  ,  kim  seo - yeon  and  park  dong - wook  ,  on  a  cold  winter’s  day  .  they  found  themselves  at  the  tender  ages  of  20  and  22  ,  attending  a  boring  christmas  gala  with  their  parents  when  they  would  have  preferred  to  do  anything  else  in  the  world  .  seo - yeon  was  a  women  who  knew  what  she  wanted  the  moment  her  eyes  landed  upon  it  ,  so  when  she  made  brief  eye  contact  with  dong - wook  ,  she  purposefully  spilled  a  glass  of  champagne  onto  his  expensive  tom  ford  suit  and  made  a  big  deal  of  it  .  this  sparked  their  whirlwind  romance  ,  and  six  months  later  they  found  themselves  announcing  their  engagement  to  korean  media  outlets  .

            despite  how  quickly  they  were  engaged  ,  their  parents  saw  this  as  mutually  beneficial  .  seo - yeon  is  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  wealthy  kim  family  ,  owners  of  the  kq  group  conglomerate  that  was  worth  billions  in  its  own  right  .  dong - wook  was  the  only  child  of  his  parents  ,  and  came  from  park  family  lineage  where  their  hotels  and  resorts  were  the  cause  of  their  fortune  .  the  families  were  soon  to  be  one  ,  and  the  couple  was  the  chaebol  heirs  that  others  envied  .  following  their  lavish  wedding  ,  seo - yeon  and  dong - wook  decided  that  they  were  going  to  head  off  to  manhattan  to  make  a  life  for  themselves  .  so  ,  they  transferred  to  columbia  university  ,  finished  their  schooling  ,  and  shortly  after  seo - yeon’s  graduation  from  the  financial  economics  program  ,  the  couple  discovered  that  they  were  expecting  .

           it  was  a  sticky  summer  day  when  seo - yeon  unexpectedly  gave  birth  to  their  daughter  ,  who  decided  not  to  allow  her  parents  time  to  get  to  the  hospital  .  araminta  was  born  in  the  bathtub  of  her  parents’  luxury  bathroom  ,  and  right  into  the  arms  of  her  slightly  panicked  but  overjoyed  father  .  from  the  time  that  she  was  a  toddler  ,  araminta  was  a  very  precocious  child  ,  picking  up  on  skills  quite  quickly  and  speaking  in  few  short  sentences  by  the  time  she  was  eleven  months  old  .  as  she  grew  older  ,  araminta’s  parents  remained  hands  on  despite  their  busy  schedules  ,  and  decided  that  they  would  see  what  their  daughter  would  have  the  most  interest  in  .  when  she  was  four  ,  her  parents  began  piano  lessons  ,  and  it  was  evident  that  she  had  a  natural  gift  for  the  instrument  .

           years  continued  to  pass  ,  and  araminta  was  always  a  top  student  in  both  academics  and  her  extracurriculars  .  as  she  attended  the  very  best  schools  in  new  york  city  ,  araminta  was  usually  the  first  to  answer  questions  ,  the  first  to  sign  up  ,  and  the  first  to  complete  her  tests  .  she  was  the  recipient  of  various  awards  throughout  the  years  ,  whether  it  be  honor  roll  or  due  to  her  participation  in  various  student  organizations  .  by  the  time  she  reaches  high  school  ,  araminta  is  on  the  fast  track  to  attending  the  college  of  her  choice  .  this  is  also  the  time  where  she  discovers  her  love  for  both  dance  and  volleyball  .  honestly  ,  she  tried  out  for  the  dance  team  at  her  high  school  on  a  whim  ,  and  immediately  fell  in  love  with  it  .  volleyball  is  her  main  love  ,  and  she  keeps  up  with  dance  because  she  gets  to  have  fun  and  it  helps  to  keep  her  in  shape  .

           araminta  was  accepted  into  steinhardt  university  during  her  junior  year  because  she  was  absolutely  the  girl  who  took  her  sat  during  sophomore  year  because  she  wanted  to  get  it  out  of  the  way  !  so  ,  she  went  through  her  last  two  years  of  high  school  not  stressing  over  college  (  and  honestly  i  think  about  that  scene  from  mean  girls  where  everyone’s  freaking  out  because  of  the  burn  book  and  regina  is  just  standing  there  JNFDFHD  )  .  during  the  first  semester  of  college  at  steinhardt  ,  though  ,  araminta  was  dealt  a  heavy  blow  when  she  discovered  that  her  parents  were  separating  .

            they  weren’t  arguing  a  lot  or  anything  ,  but  they  simply  didn’t  want  to  be  married  anymore  /  the  relationship  lost  its  spark  ,  so  they  figured  it’d  be  best  to  end  their  relationship  .  during  that  time  ,  it  was  really  hard  for  araminta  to  understand  because  she  didn’t  want  her  family  to  be  broken  ,  but  as  the  years  passed  ,  she  began  to  understand  why  they  decided  to  end  their  relationship  .  at  steinhardt  ,  araminta  is  an  architecture  major  and  it’s  entirely  due  to  the  fact  that  she  wants  to  someday  take  over  her  father’s  position  as  ceo  of  the  hotel  /  resort  company  that  his  family  owns  .  she’s  the  captain  of  the  dance  team  and  the  right  side  hitter  on  the  volleyball  team  !

headcanons  .

definitely  plans  on  going  to  graduate  school  once  she’s  graduated  ,  and  more  than  likely  will  get  a  degree  in  business  !

as  mentioned  ,  she  currently  resides  in  perry  hall  .  when  it  comes  to  the  decor  of  her  room  ,  i’d  say  it’s  pretty  minimal  with  muted  tones  ,  but  there’s  definitely  some  soft  pinks  scattered  about  !  really  likes  having  gold  as  an  accent  color  (  cannot  stand  the  marble  trend  )  and  everything  has  a  place  !

she  never  leaves  her  dorm  without  making  the  bed  or  putting  away  dishes  from  breakfast  /  lunch  .  it’s  mostly  because  she  usually  gets  back  home  really  late  so  the  last  thing  she  wants  to  do  is  have  to  clean  before  bed  .

studies  a  lot  ,  studies  late  ,  and  studies  hard  .  if  she  were  to  have  a  studygram  (  yes  ,  that’s  absolutely  a  thing  )  it  would  be  the  most  aesthetically  pleasing  instagram  on  the  planet  .  probably  only  uses  these  heavy  gold  pens  modeled  after  the  ones  her  father  uses  with  her  name  engraved  on  it  .

araminta  is  full  on  the  girl  who  does  not  show  up  to  class  in  sweatpants  and  a  hoodie  .  i  draw  a  lot  of  her  style  inspiration  from  itsyuyan  on  instagram  and  jennie’s  own  style  .  the  only  time  she’ll  ever  be  casual  is  during  those  trips  to  the  library  or  when  she’s  lounging  at  home  ,  and  even  then  she’s  probably  wearing  jeans  and  a  tee /  sweater  or  a  coordinated  pajama  set  .

i  know  jennie  has  since  cut  her  hair  ,  but  araminta’s  hair  is  long  !  specifically  ,  her  hair  is  waist  length  .  she  drives  a  white  mercedes  glc  where  she’s  usually  taking  selfies  lmao  but  her  parents  got  her  that  car  because  it’s  #safe  and  honestly  she  barely  even  drives  the  thing  unless  she’s  going  grocery  shopping  or  making  the  trip  back  home  .

personality  .

oh  boys  ,  where  do  i  even  begin  with  this  brat  !

to  quote  that  tik  tok  song  :  i’m  a  bitch  ,  i’m  a  boss  .  araminta  works  very  hard  despite  misconceptions  that  she  has  everything  handed  to  her  because  of  her  family’s  wealth  .  she  can  be  very  prideful  of  all  of  her  accomplishments  at  times  ,  but  definitely  will  let  them  do  the  talking  instead  of  being  the  type  to  bring  them  up  in  every  conversation  .

she’s  nice  to  who  she  wants  to  be  nice  to  ,  and  sometimes  she’ll  be  the  very  opposite  of  nice  .  she  can  complain  a  lot  sometimes  ,  especially  when  she’s  doing  something  that  she  wasn’t  want  to  .  

will  respond  to  attitudes  with  the  same  energy  and  she  will  take  no  prisoners  .

she  is  and  will  remain  as  #1  in  her  program  (  valedictorian  )  and  will  do  whatever  it  takes  to remain  in  such  spot  .  she’s  wildly  ambitious  mostly  stemming  from  her  father  being  the  same  way  ,  so  she’ll  step  on  toes  and  sink  her  nails  in  in  order  to  get  what  she  believes  is  hers  .

crazy  charming  ,  and  usually  it  only  takes  her  flashing  a  smile  in  order  to  get  what  she  wants  .  however  since  she’s  pretty  full  of  herself  that  can  be  a  real  turn  off  to  others  who  don’t  care  about  the  luxuries  that  can  afford  .    

desired  relations  .

i  would  love  to  have  almost  any  and  everything  .  first  ,  some  basics  that  i’d  love  to  have  are  as  follows  :  former  roommates  ,  best  friends  ,  academic  rivals  ,  friends  with  benefits  ,  confidant(s)  ,  frenemies  ,  good  /  bad  influence  ,  one  night  stand(s)  ,  flirtationship  ,  enemies  with  benefits  ,  and  a  current  or  ex  fling  !

i’ve  been  drinking  my  women  loving  women  juice  recently  and  i’d  love  for  her  to  have  an  ex  gf  ?  i  really  feel  that  they  ended  on  good  terms  like  they  might  have  simply  drifted  apart  ,  but  they  remain  really  good  friends  ?  there’s  probably  even  a  sprinkle  of  them  being  confidants  to  one  another  ,  but  give  me  this  or  give  me  death  .  

i  would  die  for  literally  any  form  of  angst  that  you  could  possibly  think  of  ?  angsty  friends  ,  angsty  exes  ,  angsty  anything  .  i  love  to  put  myself  through  misery  so  honestly  ...  bury  me  six  feet  under  and  i  will  literally  thank  you  .

all  aboard  the  heartbreak  train  !  this  ties  back  into  my  love  for  angst  ,  but  some  form  of  an  ex  or  maybe  even  someone  who  she  go  close  to  but  it  didn’t  really  work  out  ?  maybe  even  a  will  they  won’t  they  ?  but  essentially  ,  clearly  these  two  have  feelings  but  for  some  reason  things  didn’t  work  out  for  them  and  now  they’re  probably  in  a  limbo  or  trying  to  determine  where  they’re  headed  but  they  absolutely  refuse  to  talk  about  it  !  all  of  their  friends  notice  but  they  blow  them  off  and  ok  let  me  relax  and  actually  allow  us  to  plot  ,  but  just  some  potential  ideas  !

i  will  have  a  desired  relations  tag  that  i’ll  be  updating  as  frequently  as  i  can  ,  but  if  none  of  these  work  for  you  or  if  you  have  something  you  see  araminta  filling  ,  then  please  let  me  know  !  we  can  totally  brainstorm  or  if  you  want  ,  then  we  can  work  on  chemistry  !

#steinhardt:intro #this is really long even without her bio i'm CRYING