#Andy is cold and clinical

[evansbby]

Oh I think you don’t like Andy bc he offers stability and comfort. Steady job, house, normal family and you don’t want that

Normal family?!?? Andy?!?! I beg to differ hahaha. Unless you call raising a murderer normal!

But of course all i want is stability and comfort! I just want that with ARI 🥲🥲🥲

[chronal-anomaly]

im finally reading annihilation

[delusionalfanficwriter]

accident

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the streets of Seattle as Y/N drove to her training session for USWNT. The familiar scent of coffee filled the air, but her mind was focused on the upcoming game and the challenges that lay ahead. As she approached an intersection, the traffic light turned red, forcing her to come to a stop.

Just as the light turned green, Y/N accelerated, her mind still occupied with thoughts of tactics and strategy for the game. The intersection was busy, cars moving in various directions. However, in the blink of an eye, a distracted driver ran a red light, colliding with Y/N's car from the side.

The impact sent Y/N's car spinning, metal crunching against metal. The sudden jolt left her disoriented, the world spinning around her. As the chaos unfolded, she heard the distant wail of sirens, and through the haze, she saw the familiar faces of Maya hopping out of the fire truck and the Station 19 team rushing to the scene before her eyes started to close shut. 

Maya takes in the scene,  her eyes fall on the license plate number she has seen dozens of times. Her mind jumps to y/n, who she knows is in Seattle for the game coming up later in the week. The y/n who she and Carina took under their wing after she showed up several times to clinic days. They opened their home for her until she was steady enough to be on her own and when she isn’t with USWNT she is home in the UK playing for Arsenal. 

Panic and concern etched across her face, as she sprinted towards Y/N's car. Reaching the damaged vehicle, she instantly saw y/n out cold. Reaching for the door handle, it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck! Guys it’s y/n. We need the jaws of life to remove the door and maybe even windshield for more access.” Travis went to grab it as Warren and Andy came with the med bag as they were on Aid car 19. “Y/n, I’m not sure if you can hear me but I need you to try to open your eyes. It’s Maya. You are going to be okay.”

Maya makes the decision to break the backseat window and enter through there before crawling front to the passenger seat. Andy did the same but remained behind y/n as she helped stabilize her neck with a c-collar after Maya checked for a pulse. 

With all the hands touching her, y/n started to stir awake, moaning in pain. “Shhh. Y/n, it’s going to be okay, just try to remain still for us.”

Hearing the familiar voice, y/n turned her head as much as possible with the collar on to the source. “Cap…” She whispered.

“Hey there, kiddo. You took quite a big hit. Andy and I are in the car with you. Can you tell me if you are in pain and where?” Maya scans over y/n as y/n thinks the question through. 

“Um. My head is pounding and the light makes it worse. Chest might be bruised… Maya…” y/n’s facial expression changes into a panicked one. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong?... Y/n talk to me…”

“...legs… I- I can’t feel my legs. Maya- no no…” Y/n begins to spiral as realization hits her. 

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me and breathe. We will figure it out but don’t focus on that right now. I need you to get your breathing under control.”

Warren assisted Travis in preparing the jaws of life while Maya focused on Y/N's immediate needs. Andy opened the med bag, retrieving equipment to monitor vital signs. 

"Y/N, I need you to stay with me. Andy's going to monitor your vital signs, and we'll make sure you're as comfortable as possible," Maya explained, her voice a steady presence in the chaos. “Nice deep breaths.”

Andy secured an IV line, administering fluids to address potential shock. Maya continued to assess Y/N's chest and abdomen, searching for any signs of internal injuries. 

"Good job, Andy. Let's keep an eye on those vitals. Y/N, I need you to let me know if anything feels off or if the pain increases," Maya directed, her focus unwavering. “Y/n pay attention to me. Eyes on me. We will worry about your legs when we pull you out.”

“Cap, my legs are everything. You know that.”

“I know, Y/n, I promise I know.” Maya is reminded of how soccer saved Y/N life and helped lift her from her rough past. 

As Maya reassured Y/N, the situation took a dire turn. A faint hissing sound emerged from beneath the wreckage, followed by the acrid smell of gas. Maya's heart sank as she realized the danger they were in.

"Warren, Travis, we've got a gas leak! We need to get Y/N out of here, now!" Maya's voice cut through the chaos, urgency evident in every word. With adrenaline coursing through their veins, the team intensified their efforts.

Travis and Warren redoubled their efforts with the jaws of life, while Andy swiftly prepared Y/N for extraction, mindful of the looming threat of fire. Maya coordinated the rescue operation with precision, her training kicking in as she assessed the risks and devised a plan.

Suddenly, a spark ignited the volatile atmosphere, and flames erupted, engulfing the front of the car. Time seemed to slow as panic surged through the team. Without hesitation, Maya made a split-second decision.

"Grab Y/N, we're getting her out, now!" Maya commanded, her voice unwavering despite the inferno raging around them. With synchronized movements, Andy and Maya carefully lifted Y/N, their actions swift yet deliberate.

“Stop it-it hurts! Maya, stop!” Y/n screamed and cried as her body was hastily carried out of the vehicle. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n but we need to leave now!” Maya screamed over the chaos. As they lifted y/n out and placed her on the stretcher, they ran as Vic and Jack foamed over the gas leak. 

“Leah… I was on a call with Leah before.” Y/n suddenly remembered having her girlfriend on the other end of the line before the crash. 

“Don’t worry, I will call her, right now.” Maya climbed into the back of the ambulance, her eyes never leaving Y/N. "You're doing great, Y/N. We're right here with you," she said, her voice filled with reassurance.

Andy followed suit, bringing the medical bag and equipment into the confined space of the ambulance. Y/N's eyes darted between Maya and Andy, seeking comfort in their familiar faces amidst the uncertainty.

“Speaking of the devil, Leah is facetiming me.” Maya says unlocking her phone but as the ambulance doors closed, Y/N's panic resurfaces. The confined space and the realization of the severity of the situation weighed heavily on her. "Maya, I can't... I can't breathe. It's too much," Y/N gasped, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Maya quickly grabbed an oxygen mask from the medical bag. "Y/N, slow your breathing. This will help," she said, placing the mask gently over Y/N's face. "Deep breaths. In and out."

“What’s happening? Maya what happened to Y/n?!” Leah yelled through the phone panicked by Y/n’s panic. 

“Y/n look who I have on the phone, wanting to see you.” Maya tries to distract the woman in front of her. Y/n pauses for a second to see her blurred girlfriend on the screen.

“Baby, you’re going to be okay, Maya is with you and I am sure Carina will meet you in the hospital. I’ll be on the next plane over.” Leah reassured y/n. 

“Leahhh,” Y/n cried. “I can’t - can’t feel my legs. I’m so scared.” Leah pauses and a panic look crosses over her eye but she tries to remain as calm as possible. 

“Wait until the doctor’s check you out, it could just be from slight inflammation. Just focus on what Maya says. She is with you and looks like Andy is there too. You are gonna be fine, baby just remain calm.” 

“Leah, we are pulling into the ambulance bay in a minute so I am going to hang up and get her sorted for the medical staff. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” Maya tells Leah knowing how protective she is of her girlfriend. With that Leah gives another word of love to Y/n before canceling the call. 

“I texted Carina as well, I am not sure if she’s in surgery or not but she’ll come to find us once she sees it.” Maya informs y/n knowing she is able to calm down more when Carina is around. “We are almost there, but it’s going to get chaotic. Just breathe, it’ll be alright.” 

The ambulance pulls up and doors open to reveal Amelia, Bailey, Kepner, Teddy, and Carina. 

“What do we have?” Bailey starts.

“23 year old female in a MVC, airbags deployed, head laceration, possible spinal injury, she says she can’t feel her legs. C-spine precaution taken. Y/n had two panic attacks already and is in pain but no pain meds given as unknown head trauma...” Andy trails off. 

“Alright, trauma 2.”

Y/n is rolled in as everyone takes on a role and several hands are trying to assess her injuries to the full extent. Y/n takes her deep breaths as she reminds herself they are here to help her. 

In the entrance of the room Maya whispers to Carina, “Carina, she said she can’t feel her legs. I tried to stay calm for her but it’s never good. She was freaking out…” 

A loud groan of pain takes them out of their moment as they see they have turned y/n on her side to check her back before placing her back down. Amelia does a head work up and then moves down to y/n’s legs. Carina steps closer to y/n for support as Amelia asks her if she can feel her touching her feet. 

“I can’t feel it.” Amelia moves up the leg and to the knee. “Nothing.” Amelia moves mid-thigh. “I barely feel that.”

“Okay, don’t worry, we will get a CT scan and check you out. Might just be inflammation on the spine that will go away.” Amelia reassured the girl Carina took under her wing. 

“And what if it doesn’t,” Y/n asks the question she knows the answer to. 

“Let’s see what the scans say and we will take it from there.” Amelia places her hand on Y/n’s hand but she pulls away. 

“I’m going to be sick.” With that, y/n turns her body as much as possible and only dry heaves. 

“Bambina, you are stressing yourself out. I know you are worried about playing soccer, hell even walking but one thing at a time. You can’t think of what ifs. I am here now. I will make sure things are in order. Maya and I will be there for you every step of the way. I am going to need you to practice the breathing exercises. I don’t want them to sedate you but if your panic gets in the way…”

“No, no I promise.” Y/n cuts her off and closes her eyes trying to regulate her breathing. The team talks to her about the next steps of imaging and makes her a priority case.

[everythingisawayoflife]

MORE Random West Wing Headcanons bc I said so

i’ve gotten back into the show recently (esp bc i understand all the politics and crap) and i feel the need to talk about my favorite dysfunctional political administration

in the first post i made, i said ainsley and sam dated for two years before breaking up. well that breakup didn’t last very long. a month later, they started dating again. from that point, on they never left each others side. they live in georgetown with a rottweiler and four kids.

after being really involved in solving a finance crisis, josh was invited to throw the first pitch at the Mets game. when the camera zoomed in on him, he was visibly emotional.

donna was over at josh’s apartment so much during his recovery period, they’ve begun to have weekly movie nights. they continue this tradition even after marriage and kids.

josh and donna’s house has a wall in the hallway of their house when you first enter that is covered with their kids’ handprints - at first, it was just their oldest being naughty but they let it grow into the Moss-Lyman art exhibit. even sam and ainsley’s kids, and toby and andy’s kids have added their prints to the wall

there’s a weekend every summer where all of senior staff and their families come up to Manchester and stay on the Bartlet Farm at Abbey’s insistence - she wears the title of “Grandma Abbey” proudly

at the inaugural ball (aka s4 josh & donna), josh and donna spend so much time together that a lot of the people there going to congratulate josh on getting bartlet’s second term mistake josh and donna for husband and wife - as a joke, donna and josh let people believe it

^^they end up getting quite the talking to from abbey - because she’s mad they didn’t tell her first (and cj, who has to field press questions the next day and they almost caused a domestic incident)

as an april fools day prank, zoey and charlie covered bartlet’s walls in the oval office with sticky notes - sam helped and wrote a “your mama” joke in latin as payback for bartlet having fun with the staff

josh has a terrible habit of biting the skin around his nails until they bleed - he doesn’t realize how bad it is until he turns some papers into the president with large drops of blood on them - donna keeps spare bandaids at her desk

toby likes to have a little fun with donna and say things to deliberately get a reaction out of her - some are truths, some are lies. one truth is that he likes beans on toast. donna called him clinically insane.

leo really likes musicals. can he sing? hardly ever. but on days he finds he needs to relax, he puts on the original cast recording of oklahoma and everything turns out okay

donna unofficially adopts a sickly kitten that lived in the trash near her apartment - she names it Brownie and nurses it back to health

^^Josh is allergic to Brownie but doesn’t say a word to Donna until after they’ve been married and had kids when they reach the age where they start asking for pets

Donna is sort of a multiple-threat kind of girl - she was an excitable kid so she grew up knowing how to do all kinds of things - these things are tap dance for seven years, karate for two years, horseback riding has been the only constant in her life, she can knit and sew, and she even speaks a little french - josh LOVES it when Donna speaks french

josh is always cold, he’s never run warm. donna knit a blanket for him as a birthday present. he’s never said anything but it’s one his favorite things in the whole world

donna actually likes hearing some of the president’s obscure historical tidbits - she even goes so far as to learning some of her own to exchange with him

toby visits the veteran’s grave that he buried every year and even talks to him a little while he’s there

it took a solid 20 minutes after donna had their first kid to let someone else hold him besides josh. the third person to hold their kid was bartlet.

^^^donna has never seen josh more in love than when he held their kid for the first time. cj took a photo of josh gazing at the little baby swaddled in blue clothing with visible tears streaking down his face. it’s one of donna’s favorite photos.

Sam is really good at hockey. He takes his kids to hockey games whenever he can.

[the-grungler]

"i hate you harder than every star in the sky" (vague character study?)

(a/n) these freaks actually make me sick to my fucking stomach i love them so much (í keep confusing myself with tags but if ur in the fandom you know the triggers already probly)

(genuinely adore nemlei's writing, come find my exaggeratedly heated political views on the moe-aestheticed cannibalistic incest story at the bottom) (just bc no one asked doesn't mean i can't suck my own dick <3)

not beta read rip

————————————

Smoke lifts towards the sky as he pulls the stick from his lips. For a fleeting second, he sees the stars align. The movie writes itself—the turbulent snare of helicopter blades, an SOS thrown and caught and hugs and tears and all of that sorry bullshit. And then they'd ask questions. He'd be cuffed. She'd be gone. His crooks and kinks pounded out in the prison for Another Societal Disappointment. He'd get his life straightened out—removed, without the clinical jargon—and all his friends and family's souls would cheer their comeuppance from the afterlife.

Happy endings are just too tastefully easy, aren't they?

For the twelfth time that night, he thinks about killing her.

The demon. The parasite. The dumb cunt of a tumor, eating and growing and grinning.

She's a vile itch under his skin, his bones. One that if he pulled the flesh and sinew from all that'd sit underneath were cinder and ash. Ash and cinder.

Ash and Tar and worthless waste Andy.

He sucks it down his lungs like sweet, sexy heroin. If the world ever went his way, she'd be shot out back and hung.

You did this to me.

He relishes in the way his brain flushes out anymore thoughts at that. The feeling her existence gives him is the most miserable serotonin he's ever tried to smoke. His life, his purpose, his burden, is currently meandering a sorry knock-off of a seven eleven, probably making some minimum wage tween's life a living hell.

Good.

He shouldn't have to be the only one's air wasted on that sorry bitch.

He swings the car door open until it crashes into itself, because no god fucking dammit he's the only one, only one allowed to, he'd kill that rancid cashier, wring its fucking neck for thinking it had any right to have Her leaving suicidal dirt tracks over its life the way that stupid cow ruined his. She was His burden. His. His. His.

You're the one that sent her off.

His voice of reason sighs, and he remembers all over again that yes, this is in fact what he wants. Peace and quiet. Two minutes away from that blighting hellspawn. Just two minutes, and he'd sweep all her fuckups back into the dirt to rot with the rest of their victims.

Andrew and the severe smoking addiction. Andrew and the stars against the night sky. Andrew and the obnoxious tussle of bushes hiding the last throat he'd slit. Andrew and the gaping void of oh, who fucking cares, anyway?

He stands up from the cramped carseat She cheerfully proclaims their house. Pops his back. Sucks the cigarette dry, holds it in until the smoke tingles and burns away his braincells and the memory of whatever just happened. In. Out.

He closes his eyes, and he is an average office worker, wringing sighs out on the front porch until his smile is in place for his pretty wife.

He closes his eyes, and he is a slackerish homebody, wiping dishes and beating off until his annoying wife saunters through the door.

He closes his eyes, and he's got a scholarship and a master's under his belt, and he's being congratulated for an accolade he's accidentally achieved, staggering home to hang himself because that Stupid Bitch is late and—

"Oh, Aaaaaaandy!" She crashes into him with the crumple of plastic bags and cold sandwiches, and he thinks of how that sugar and methamphetamine lilt snuffed out under his palms would sound for the thirteenth time. "I have returned with spoils untold! ...The fuck are you loitering around for?" She pouts her lips in that crude imitation of cuteness. "So much for not drawing attention, you greasy hobo."

There are a lot of things to be said about your loved ones.

"Yes, because we should all go around charging each other like raging bulls, that'll surely get the cops off our tails."

Happy-go-lucky couples who tongue off on the mere thought of each other, a pretty list of perfection dripping down in a sweet, honeyed daze. (Not that Ashley qualifies as a human, or any sort of girlfriend!)

"HahAhaha! Someone's got a real stick up their asshole tonight. C'mon, I can't express my love for a job well done?"

"Need I point out that you are the obnoxious stick in this metaphor?"

Ashley, has none of those things. In fact, what Andrew has is a list of horrors, eight fully formed essays on why things like her shouldn't be alive (the collection of poetry didn't count if he burned them all fast enough). Gaslighting, manipulative, vile, selfish, leech, more boobs than brain, the self awareness of a rock and the complete disregard for other's opinions or should's and shouldn'ts, that freedom to do whatever she pleases whenever, the primal comradery that bound them in their own sins—

Her pout sours. "Real fucking rainbows and sunshine, aren't you? Isn't this the part where you fall to your knees and praise me about what a incredible job I did, and how you can't live without me?"

"I can hardly live with you! Why the hell were you gone so long?? If I have to clean up another body because you can't behave for five fucking minutes, I swear to God—"

"Ugh, get off my ass, it was barely five, tops! Couldn't you have thrown this fit yesterday? Or like, not at all?? Nothing happened! I bought our dinner. I got the change. i left."

He breathes wisps of smoke through his nostrils. Knowing that thirty second interaction with the cashier was not the cacophony of screams and bitchery he chewed on the daily, in fact, more courtesy than he had ever received off her end in his entire fucking life, sent another white hot wave of rage through his bones.

"...Okay. You're right."

"...Aaaand?"

"And I'm sorry," he rolls his eyes, but of course this is the night she takes it like a champ, corralling him into the cramped space of the car and rifling through the bags like an early morning Christmas present.

(Not that he knew what it felt like. He'd dwell on it, maybe, suck the bitter out like trashy candy, but he couldn't face that nagging twitch of a thought—some phantom sense of fear, that if he looked down, turned over whatever he could remember of the shit he ate from whoever wasn't his sister, it'd disappear, just like everything else around him.)

That toiling murk in his head of daily life. Teeth and smiles and the motions of love. Did you really love someone if you couldn't kill yourself for them, over and over and over again?

(The pill is in front of him. He will never swallow, because this bottomless stretch of tar and tits is the closest thing left to a spark he has. Maybe it's the only thing he'll ever be able to take out of someone.)

That's right. It's all your fault.

He pops the top off the sandwich container. It looks like ash and horseshit, smells like canned tuna.

The fuckup next to him plucks it out and bites down with a snide, smeared grin.

"Hey," he jades.

"C'mon! Ladies first, y'know?" She pauses mid-chew as the flavor sinks in, a grimace wrinkling her nose. "...My apologies, brother dearest! How ill mannered of me." She drops it back in the container and shoves it over to him. "Out of the kindness of my dainty little heart, it's only fair you eat first!"

He snorts, despite himself. "As if. You got your slobber all over it, you little shit."

"Excuse you!? I'll have you know that refined beings such as myself just don't need tasteless, lowclass trash! You should be thankful I've indulged you thus far!"

"Right, because you'd rather eat what? The refined hors d'oeuvres of human intestines?"

She smirks like he's proven her point exactly. "I'm not like other girls, you see."

He barks a loud laugh. "You got that right. You're a fucking mistake."

"Takes one to know one." She sticks a jeering tongue out at him. He regrets in advance all the ways he could scrape the stains right off those lips.

Instead, he bites a chunk off her sandwich, parading nonchalance with belligerent ignorance. It's second nature, a game she hasn't realized she's played him into.

It tastes like shit.

But hey, so does everything else in his mouth. The mildly repulsed look she gives him as he swallows the whole thing just makes it all the tiny bit sweeter.

fucking hate and love nemlei for making one of the most beautifully crafted deep dives into abuse an incest simulator LIKE HOW THE FUCK DO I EXPLAIN THIS TO MY HOMIES???

and not to mention what a special goddamn project it is because i am so tired of media bitching and moaning morals and preaching into their writing. like i get corporations physically unable to not have a moral message by the end due to sueful behavior but this is just a breath of beautifully moldy air. all you need to know is that these people are NOT healthy role models, they are not a hero's journey of victory or happy-ever-after peace, or here to teach you something about life. these bitches are NASTY and if you need a video game to tell you not to fuck your sister, i assure you there are bigger problems going on there

just kidding this is just me hammering down my brain puke so it stops seeping into everything else. i'd do ashley POV too but i got it all out with this one and her character just doesn't fit with casual introspective study for me.

[lythea-creation]

Fighting Fire - Andy Herrera x fem reader (Chapter 7)

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

warnings: mentions of abuse

word count: 1.539

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

(f/n)'s PoV

The New Year had been rolling in quicker than expected.

For the first time in a while I had actually enjoyed the holidays.

We had all celebrated Christmas Eve together at the fire station, exchanging past Christmas stories and playing games together, while eating cookies.

New Years Eve was not much different, except for the cookies.

Now we were all back to our busy schedules, although I did not mind it all that much.

Since Andy had officially become my girlfriend, life had gotten easier.

Day to day my doubts were fading more to the background and I could just enjoy being with her.

Stepping into station 19 that day months ago had been the best decision I had ever made.

I had not just escaped Kate, but gained a sense of belonging. People who truly cared about me and were supporting me any time.

It also worked the other way around, of course.

Whenever they needed help at the station, I jumped in.

Just like today.

We were doing the stocktaking for the clinic and since the team was also busy reacting to their siren, I had volunteered to help them out.

After all I was not working this weekend anyway. So why would I decline a chance to be around Andy and my friends?

“What would we do without you?”, Andy whispered into my ear before kissing my cheek.

I chuckled at her behavior, pulling her close.

My plan to kiss her was interrupted by the siren, making us groan in unison.

“I won't forget where we left off”, she promised as she was already running to the fire pole.

I smiled to myself and continued counting our medical supplies, writing it down diligently.

After a while I headed to the kitchen to grab myself a glass of water.

I figured Vic could need some tea. So I made her a cup and headed down to the reception.

Vic was down with a cold, not bad enough to knock her out, but enough to make her stick to the desk.

“You're an angel”, she proclaimed as I placed the cup onto the desk.

We both turned our head at the sound of the door opening.

While Vic greeted the person wholeheartedly, I felt my body tensing up.

Kate halted when she saw me, her frozen expression quickly replaced by a grin.

Vic immediately noticed the shift in mood, looking between us as if she could solve the riddle like that.

“What are you doing here?”, I questioned

My eyes were not leaving her frame for a second, ready to react to every tiny shift in her body language.

“I was just bringing over my smoke detector. For some reason it's not working properly anymore”, she claimed.

“You knew I was here today. How?”, I inquired.

Suddenly she started laughing. “Why would I care?”

Saying I was uneasy would be a huge understatement.

“I think you should go”, Vic suggested.

“What? Why? I didn't do anything”, Kate resisted. “Aren't you supposed to serve your community?”

“Leave the smoke detector and return later to pick it up”, Vic instructed her.

“You know what? Forget it”, Kate raged and stormed out of the station.

I was still frozen in place, staring at the door in fear of her return.

“Hey, it's okay”, Vic soothed me.

She was standing in front of me, but not touching me in any way.

Instead she opened her arms in a silent offer.

Her embrace was calming and giving me strength and confidence at the same time.

Since meeting her I had always admired Vic for her emotional intelligence and strength.

“How are you?”, she asked me after a few minutes, after letting me go and making sure I sat down.

No 'Are you okay?', but the sincere question how exactly I was feeling. An invitation to let go.

“Thank you”, I whispered.

She placed her hand on my shoulder with a smile. “You're family now. Of course, I have your back. We all do.”

Her words were taking off the lid of bottled-up emotions I did not know I had.

My tears started streaming with no prior warning.

Vic crouched down in front of me, leaving her hand on my shoulder until I had calmed down again.

“That was Kate. My ex”, I enlightened her. “She …”

Why could I not bring myself to say it out loud? That she had abused me.

Vic's hold on me was slightly tighter for a few seconds, her jaw clenched and eyes shut.

Apparently I did not need to say it out loud for her to get it.

I quickly wiped my tear stains away when I noticed that the team was returning.

“Do you want the others to know, so that we can send her away if she ever shows up again? Or do you want me to keep it to myself?”, Vic wondered.

I shook my head. “I dunno yet.”

She nodded at my answer, accepting it without another word.

The others were luckily too invested in their conversation to acknowledge us as they were passing by. Except Andy.

Her smile faltered when she got a proper look at me.

“What happened?”, she worried, approaching us instead of following the rest of the team.

“Kate was here”, I simply stated.

Vic moved aside to give Andy some space to take my hand and cup my cheek.

“Did she do anything?”

Her eyes were scanning me for any sign of an injury. I was sure she had noticed my red eyes long ago.

“Vic sent her away”, I proposed. “I'm okay. Just a bit unsettled to see her.”

The tension in Andy's body faded at my words.

“Okay”, she mumbled. “Is there any way I can help?”

“You already are”, I mumbled, placing my hand over the one that was cupping my cheek.

I smiled softly at her before letting go of her and standing up to retreat to one of the bedrooms.

My mind was spinning with countless thoughts, memories and possible future scenarios molding into an invisible nightmare.

I was trying to focus on my breathing while my heart and mind were racing.

A knock on the door snapped me out of it.

To my surprise it was not just Andy, but also Maya.

“Can we come in?,” my girlfriend questioned.

I nodded, wondering why she had brought her best friend.

“I love you”, Andy proposed.

Despite the situation I could not help my genuine smile.

“And I think it's time for you to get professional help. You don't have to work through this on your own”, she considered.

Professional help? Why was she bringing that up now, in front of Maya as well?

The latter decided to chime in now: “Andy didn't tell me anything specific about your situation. But I had my suspicions way before Andy did. You know … it took me a long time to see that I was abused. By my father. He had been manipulating me for so long that I couldn't see it. I almost destroyed myself and all my relationships before accepting help. I don't want the same to happen to you.”

“You were …? I had no idea”, I stated.

“I just want to offer my help. If you want to get in touch with a good therapist or just to talk to someone who understand, I'm here”, she noted. “Just think about it.”

With those words she left Andy and me alone.

“I hope you aren't mad at me ...”

I interrupted her: “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Overstepping, I guess?”, she assumed.

I shook my head. “No, of course not. I appreciate it.”

We laid down together and I let her hold me. It almost made me cry again. Apparently I was way more emotional than I had always thought.

“Kate isn't my biggest fear”, I admitted.

“What is it then?”, she inquired.

“Losing you. And with you all my friends because they were yours first. I'd be all alone again”, I pointed out, shivering at the mere thought of losing everything I had just built up.

“Not even talking about the fact that I wanna stay with you for as long as you let me. But the others won't leave you because of a break-up. Well … as long as you don't turn into a bitch”, she joked. “They wouldn't have to choose sides. You'd still be welcome here.”

“I still can't believe how much my life changed in the matter of a few months”, I considered.

“It's because you've been working really hard for it”, Andy reminded me. “You earned it for yourself. And you definitely deserve it all. Especially me.”

Her grin underlining her last statement was making me laugh before diving in to kiss her.

The siren was interrupting our make-out session though.

After a few more minutes of collecting myself, I made my way back out to continue my work.

Kate would not keep me from living my life anymore.

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

Next Chapter

[metalsongoftheday]

Friday, February 21: Judas Priest, "Cold Blooded"

Redeemer of Souls was the last time Glenn Tipton was fully present as an active member of Judas Priest, a fact that became more apparent as Firepower was eventually followed by Invincible Shield.  His diminished role was particularly felt in the band’s sound, as his production on Redeemer of Souls was boomier and more spacious than the clinical polish of Andy Sneap’s work on Priest’s next two records: “Cold Blooded” felt both roomier and more powerful, particularly in the thud of Scott Travis’ drumming.  The track was on the mid-paced side, but felt naturally heavy and a nice throwback to the band’s ‘70s material as it was a bit more live in its construction.  Rob Halford was back in thespian mode, and Tipton gave his vocals a nice echoing quality that juxtaposed well with the thumping percussion and spidery riffing.  This felt like something the band jammed out in a rehearsal room, and felt organic in a way that we really hadn’t heard from Priest in a very long time.

[brooklynislandgirl]

the frog: frogs tend to become overworked and undernourished, so it’s important they practice self-care…what is weighing on your muse, and how do they handle it? what do they do for self-care?

the stingray: this is a pivotal point in personal growth. the moment when the stingray must decide between the old and the new, which can be complicated by family and friends….how does your muse handle these pivotal moments? does your muse rely on the old or embrace the new?

Jurassic Asks || The Lost Meme

Frog: Up to twenty hours a day are devoted to healing the sick whether that's tending wounds in the ER or the clinic she runs on her off days, organising and delivering meals to the elderly, care boxes for the houseless, helping her neighbours fill out forms for necessary services and extensions, ad infinitum. The more distance she can put in front of her own needs the better. She has more than she can ever need and the guilt of it coils around her tighter than those of Jörmungandr. It also gives her an excuse to send the Admiral's calls to voicemail. Even her priest, Father Vinnie, thinks she needs to take a step back. Not that she'd listen to him on that front. She keeps going until she literally cannot move another muscle. At least her cousins cannot fault her for breaking the rules, simple as they are, can they? On the rare occasion that Beth does make time for herself, she typically heads toward the sea. She can surf for hours when the cold grey Atlantic waves feel cooperative. She might pick up an exquisite and rare bottle of wine afterwards, her hair still damp with salt and see and the soft thwick-thwak of her slippahs cause minor panic to the Chanel coated sommeliers. The emotional pearl-clutching is so funny to them, especially when not a single person there has ever dived for their own jewellery. She might smooth on a kelp and clay mask to feed her skin while she eats some pad Thai while catching up on the latest medical drama. Laughing at the glaring mistakes from TV-Land. Beth might be a complex creature but her needs are pretty simple. ~*~ Stingray:

Every Sunday, even on work days, Beth goes out to Green-Wood Cemetery to have lunch with her brother's spirit, always attempting to commune with him despite the fact that she's never once felt his presence. The grounds are gorgeous, meticulously kept. Perhaps even sterile in its respite if she were to be honest, but she still stops by and visits Andy's neighbours, Basquait and Bernstein. One could consider it a ritual, but in truth, Beth cannot let him go, even in death any more than she could be parted from him in life. Andy colours everything from the type of person she might come to admire, how she eventually makes decisions ~imaginary debates with him~ and even how she keeps his room in the apartment sealed like a second tomb. She doesn't realise that maybe she's like that about everything, clinging to the old and comfortable because anything else is terrifying to her.

[eggiesins]

Where the Sand Meets the Sky Chapter 8 is up!

Summary: Athenas and Grace enjoy a girls night out, and Logan is vindicated

Find it here on Ao3 or the full chapter below the cut!

I also take headcanon requests, so for more posts like Sandrock Bachelors Being Drunk let me know!

Andy gently clasps at Athenas' cold calloused hand as Fang finishes tying her sling in place. Though her safe return had been a matter of when rather than if, seeing her now - pale from blood loss, and still trembling after the ordeal - a sense of injustice swells in his chest and he looks on with resentment-shadowed eyes. She sits up slowly in the small clinic bed, allowing her head to fall back softly against the smooth wooden frame. Her breathing is shallow but steady, eyes closed as she tiptoes at the edge of consciousness. Unsuur and Justice stand only a few feet away with their crossed arms and haggard faces.

"You will…live," Fang murmurs, a hint of frustration adding an edge to his tone. "But…I tire of. Putting you…back together." Hearing this, Athenas begins to mutter an apology, but the doctor only waves her off. "Just…be careful," he warns with a small glare. Guilt flickers across her features as she nods somberly in response.

"Glad you're gonna be okay, Athenas," Justice begins slowly. "When we saw you go over the cliff, we…" His voice trails off as his stare grows long. With a quick huff, he begins again, "You wanna report now or tomorrow morning?"

"Not much to tell honestly," she murmurs though cracked lips. "I fell, bounced 'til I passed out, and climbed back up when I finally came to. If it were anyone, uh, normal, they probably wouldn't have made it." She knows the best lies are simple, rooted in truth, and it seems the sheriff is satisfied for now.

"Stop by the office in the morning then. Still gotta file the report," he turns alongside his deputy, heading for the front door. The builder sighs to herself as Fang begins packing away his supplies; she'll need to go for an herb run for him soon. It's the least she can do after he's just patched her up yet again.

Once the room has emptied, leaving only the builder and her ward, Athenas beckons Andy closer so she can whisper softly, "I'm in the gang now, kiddo." She flashes him a small, sly smile, as much as she can manage for the moment, and the boy responds with a grin of his own.

"Grace told me already," his smile falters for a moment as he glances at her bandaged arm. "Fightin' with Logan did all this?"

Athenas shakes her head. "Some, not all though. Had to make the story convincing, right?"

Andy purses his lips as he considers things. A few months ago he would have been begging to hear the story of their fight, vividly watching the scenes play out across his mind's eye. The scars on her face and arms used to tell him of spaceship crashes and daring adventures in the desert. But as he sits and studies her now, he only sees his caretaker, bruised and broken, trying to win a fight she never should have been in.

"I don't want you gettin' hurt out there no more," his voice takes on a more somber tone as he lifts his eyes to meet her gaze. "Yer in the gang now, right? Means you won't be goin' out t'fight Logan again, at least."

Athenas nods, trying to push thoughts of Duvosian sabotage and relic weapons out of her mind. "Gonna do my best, kiddo. I've got no intention of leaving you to grow up gardening with Miguel, don't worry." She chuckles weakly as her voice trails off, but Andy doesn't seem convinced.

"Better not," he replies. "You promised."

As the pair slowly makes their way outside, Andy whistles for their mount and Athenas leans against the shaded wall of the clinic to wait. After a moment, the sturdy brown yakmel finally appears, stopping to graze at a patch of grass growing along the walkway. Andy grumbles under his breath before telling Athenas to stay put so that he can retrieve the wayward animal. The builder chuckles to herself as she watches him wrangle the yakmel, gripping it firmly by the bridle and chastising the poor beast as he walks it back to the clinic.

"Ya just had to rent one of these this week, huh?" He shoots her an accusatory glare, and Athenas does her best to stifle her laughter.

"Where's the horse at? I got both."

Andy scoffs and spits at the ground. "Dang thing got spooked after the stuff with Rambo. Won't come out of the stables, even for chestnuts!"

Athenas' shoulders tremble with the effort of giggles held in limbo. "Unfortunate, but can't be helped, I suppose. Gonna have to talk to Coop about buying that one for good."

After an awkward moment trying to mount the yakmel, the pair finally make their way home together in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. In spite of what Athenas had expected, Andy doesn't pepper her with questions or demand to hear more stories about the fight. Instead, he spends most of the ride staring thoughtfully into the fading sunset, watching as the colors deepen and fade into soft shades of purple just the same as his eyes. At times his features darken with unspoken conflict, but these moments are brief - small detours from the uncharacteristic air of melancholy settling around his hunched shoulders. Athenas can't decide whether to ask further or crack a quick joke to lighten the mood.

As they pass through the wide tunnel, and the workshop finally comes into view, she settles on a response - reaching an arm around the boy's shoulders to pull him close and offering a murmur of support. "If you want to talk, that's great. If not," she shrugs, "that's okay too, kiddo."

Andy lays a hand over hers, and his somber facade finally cracks into a small smile. With a barely stifled sniffle, he responds, "Thanks, Athenas."

"'Course," she nods curtly. "Now, let's see if some of that sandrice cake is still good. I think we've both earned a little treat after today." The boy lets out a huff of air he didn't realize he was holding and nods his assent eagerly. It's only a ghost of the vigor he usually shows, but for now, it's enough.

Steam drifts lazily upward from the handcrafted bathtub as Athenas finishes wrapping her bandages. Ripples in the water seem to expand and contract the ephemeral veins running along the smooth marble slabs lining the interior, and cast an array of twinkling lights against the ceiling as they refract the lapis and gold detailing - some of Amirah's best work yet. It seems almost a shame to sit and slough off layers of dirt, grime, and sweat in such a work of art, but options are few at the moment. The builder groans and her sore muscles scream as she gingerly lowers herself into the water, taking care to avoid dunking any gauzed limbs.

As she closes her eyes and leans back, her thoughts begin to race through the events of the day. She had been right about Logan, but he's only a small piece of the puzzle. A bandit with a secret heart of gold is one thing, but Grace being a spy for the Central Alliance? Duvos sabotaging Sandrock as they prepare for war with the city states? And someone in the church is working with them? Before Sandrock, her job had consisted of simple orders: kill this target, blow that building up. The reason behind the mission never mattered, was never questioned. Only the results spoke for themselves.

And now? Now, things are complicated, messy. The enemy hides in plain sight, responsible for - if not direct deaths - the ruin of so many lives and careers, the hardships of people she cares about. And once the traitor is uncovered, what then? What will it mean for Heidi's school, for Vivi's shop? She can't imagine anyone in Sandrock giving in, but the people are desperate, clinging to a thread of hope thinner than spider silk. Duvos aside, what about things with Logan? Assuming Sandrock survives whatever storm is brewing on the horizon, there will be a trial and a sentencing. And after that, they'll have to decide how to handle Andy.

She sighs and glances down at her hand, at the lingering twitch to her fingers. If Logan comes back to town, it would be best for Andy to go with him. Athenas knows it would be the right choice, but her heart sits like lead in her chest at the thought, twisting into a spike as she forces herself to imagine it, to face the reality now and spare herself the worst of the pain later. She'll wake up every morning to a silent house, back to making breakfast for one - if she decides to eat at all. At some point, she'll have to move the furniture out of Andy's old room and find a way to sell it or re-purpose it. In the evenings, she'll read by herself, and the smell of hot chocolate won't permeate the kitchen. Apart from the steady hum of machinery in the yard, her days will pass in silence, a life rebuilt for one.

She'll see Andy around, of course. He might stop by and visit now and again with some crazy new design or invention, but he'll never stay for long. And then it will be just her in the big workshop - no pranks, no impromptu building lessons, no burden. She considers the bright flash of excitement on Andy's face as he catches his first king sandfish, or hefts the newly finished super shock shield for the first time. The memories course through her, slowly at first, and then rushing like white water. They froth to the surface and spill over and out, salty sea foam streaming down her cheeks as the leaden spike turns in her chest like a watermill.

Hurt now for peace later.

It takes a few weeks for Logan and Athenas to nurse themselves back into fighting shape, but things in town remain eerily quiet. Pablo, Arvio, and Vivi set up their shops every morning, and Matilda gives her usual sermon from the Blue Moon Stage, just as they've always done. Athenas finds herself rising before the sun and sprinting to the commission board alongside Mi-an, eager to begin their work and be gone before Yan pops in for the day. Though she tries to get home quickly, she can't help but stop and stare at a familiar wanted poster hanging outside the Guild. Unsuur's rendering is spot on - in as much as it can be, being only the top half of the bandit's face - but now that Athenas knows the truth, she can't help but find the impression lacking. Compared to the drawing, Logan's eyes are lined with the weight of his burden, undercut by weary dark circles. She hears the exhausted determination in his voice as he explains his position, the crack of his knuckles as his hands clench into fists by his side. His steely gaze in the drawing seems almost a whisper of the man when compared to the sorrow and tenderness in his eyes as he asks her for help saving his home.

The real Logan has a voice that dips down affectionately when he talks about Andy and a soft tilt to his brow as he recalls painful memories. It's not the poster's crinkled eyes and crooked smile that seem to haunt her, chasing her from dawn to dusk alongside a fluttering in her stomach and a tightness in her chest. She glances over at her distorted reflection in the window: the one white eye staring back at her, the hook in her nose as she angles her head, the thick pink gash carved into her face. With a scoff she turns away, still lost in thought.

In a way, the photo reminds her of her own military portrait. Her mother had praised her for how dignified and serene she had appeared, but only Athenas remembers her trembling hands as she balanced herself on the stiff wooden stool, or the lump in her throat as she forced herself to take a deep breath and smile. The black eye and split lip she sported that day had been wiped from the final product, leaving only the dedicated patriot behind. If only the future had been so kind.

Footsteps ascend the wooden steps behind her, and the sheriff's low voice reaches out, comforting and sympathetic. "Don't beat yourself up too much, partner. We'll find him. Eventually." But Athenas can hear the spike in his heart rate, the way his voice trails off ever so slightly toward the end, and she's not sure who needs the reassurance more right now. The truth bubbles up inside of her, rising in her throat and sitting like a lump. How many times had he saved her life or hauled her to the Clinic when she inevitably passed out from overexertion? And what had she told him after Gecko Station - that she had everything under control? She's only rewarded his kindness with more and more lies, haphazardly stacked on top of one another, tilting this way and that in the slightest breeze, yet somehow never collapsing. Only a matter of time.

She stands in silence for a moment before turning to the sheriff with a performative half-smile. "We'll find a way to save Sandrock. This town is too stubborn to fall anyway."

Justice lets out a sharp laugh at that. "Times like these, everyone going about their business like nothin's happened." He pauses. "I think you may be right." His gaze softens as he turns to face her fully. "When yer ready to hop back on that horse, just let me know. We'll take 'em down together."

"Thanks, Justice," she offers a brief nod goodbye before making her way back to the workshop.

Later that night, Athenas dresses quietly, opting for simple dark colors and her softest leather boots. She checks at Andy's door again, listening carefully as she confirms the boy is still asleep. Rather than take the creaky stairs, she instead eases herself slowly over the banister before leaping to the ground. She lands on the balls of her feet and lets her knees take the brunt of the impact, silent as the early morning fog. She whispers a soft word of thanks for the new rubber bushings and freshly oiled hinges of her brace.

It's a quiet walk to the thick steel door tucked away beneath the church where Grace waits for her. The town is bathed in silver moonlight as she ghosts through the quiet streets, and she can't help but take in the sights, even now. Just outside the door, the frycook-turned-spy greets her with a small smile and a quick wave.

"Athenas, good of you to come. Don't worry, no one's gonna be here around this time." The small assurance does little to quell the anxiety and anticipation twisting in the builder's stomach. It doesn't seem to matter how many missions she goes on; the unsettling calm before is always more nerve-wracking than the storm itself.

Noticing her hesitation, Grace continues, "I need you with me all the way now. Whatever we find in there, let's have each other's back."

Athenas nods with a resolute set to her jaw. "Let's do this."

Despite her resolve, the builder's heart sinks as the antilock she constructed slides perfectly into place on the secret door before them. Regardless of personal feelings, she knows what the church means to the people living here, and to see that faith rewarded with betrayal almost stings worse than a horned adder bite. Despite her growing dread, she presses forward across the threshold with Grace following closely behind.

"Oh for fucks sake," she mutters as she sees the spotlights traveling up and down the corridor ahead. "Now I'm supposed to be James Bond, too?"

Grace chuckles softly as the two women begin twining their path down the hallway, careful to stick to the shadows against the wall. "Was he really as capable as the documentaries say?" she asks. "Personally, I always thought it was weird for an agent to become such a public figure. Kinda defeats the point of being a spy in the first place."

Athenas stops in place. "The hwhat now?"

"Don't you know? James Bond, 007, master of espionage and seduction? The films detailing his exploits in the Old World are common enough. Though, it is a matter of debate still, whether the name refers to a title given to agents of such exceptional quality and status, or if the man was such an incredible spy that no two accounts of his appearance actually match."

Athenas opens her mouth to respond, but pulls back for a moment. Grace watches as she tilts her head to the side before whipping around to face her.

"You're fucking with me right?"

It takes all of Grace's training to stifle her laugh. Athenas is much easier to read than she'd like to believe, and the story her face tells is one of bewilderment, concern, and just a touch of agony. If the builder's eyebrows could raise any higher, she'd risk giving herself a new hairline entirely.

"This is a bit. You're doing a bit right?" Athenas asks as the women swiftly round the corner and find themselves in yet another room full of spotlights.

"Of course not," the spy responds sarcastically as she edges her way around the room. "I'm a professional. I'd never interrupt an important mission for some silly joke."

A smile flickers at the corner of Athenas' mouth as she whispers back. "Well then, you should know that the James Bond movies were all fictitious cover ups to mask the real spy at work: a hero named Austin Powers. Feel free to put that in a report or textbook or whatever."

"Now there's an idea," Grace quips as she dashes forward to access a nearby access panel. Soon enough the lights are out and a large door to the side glides open on silent hinges. "Hah! We're in. Piece of cake."

Athenas' brows furrow as she steps into the next room, overwhelmed by the familiarity of the scene. Machines and relics in various states of disrepair are placed sporadically along the outer edge, surrounding a large water tank affixed in the center, all humming quietly. Another control panel sits nearby, crudely drawn schematics on a desk just to the side. Metal panels and railings line the steel walls, and the only illumination comes from small emergency lights embedded in the ceiling. She can smell machine oil, coolant, and something else - someone else. The lingering scents have largely dissipated and jumbled together, but there's a hint of freshly tilled soil, of hair gel and sweat. Enough to begin painting a grim picture.

"If my sense of direction hasn't failed me, we're directly under the oasis right now. Somehow doesn't seem like a coincidence," Grace murmurs as the pair moves closer.

"Pen's relic weapon seems so small compared to this," Athenas responds, coming to a stop directly in front of the tank. "Speaking of, I'm picking up what might be a bit of…Miguel, maybe. And Pen, most likely. If someone else is involved, it's been too long for me to tell clearly." She places a hand against the cool glass of the tank, suddenly feeling far, far too old. After a pause, she casts her partner a sidelong glance. "It's like I'm back there again. But also not. Does that make sense?"

"I can imagine walking into an Old World facility buried directly beneath the town you've called home for the past two years might dredge up some strange feelings," Grace says. "Let's just focus and search around for anything that might explain what we're looking at."

Grace carefully photographs each new piece of evidence as they work their way around the room. From the diagram of the piping in the Peach Statue to Yan's ridiculous user manual for the water tank, it quickly becomes clear to both women how exactly Duvos is planning to undermine Sandrock. Drain the oasis and sell water from the tank back to the city, a simple plan, but one that feels far to easy. Something this disastrous should be locked behind at least twelve more layers of intrigue. As they talk through the scheme, footsteps begin to echo down the corridor. Athenas flinches at the sudden noise and turns to Grace, alarmed.

"Someone's coming?" The spy whispers, but doesn't wait for a response. "Find a place to hide, quick!"

Athenas scrambles at first, but catches the smallest hint of fresh air from a corner across the room. Following the scent, she spots the door she's looking for. Grace follows quickly behind as they slide to a halt on the other side, leaving a crack only just wide enough to peek through. The builder's heart pounds in her chest, surely loud enough for even Grace to hear. But if the spy notices, she doesn't say anything. Her eyes are glued to the doorway, listening closely to the pair of voices coming closer. Sandrock's protector and shepherd bicker back and forth, oblivious to the soft click of Grace's camera as she takes another photo. After a tense exchange, the men murmur a final "For the Empire," before taking their leave, and the empty facility is once again cloaked in silence.

"Well, well, well," Grace begins, turning to Athenas. "All we're missing now is a little pink bow on top. Excellent work Athenas. Now let's see where this tunnel goes. I don't really want to face off with Pen right now if I don't have to."

With one last glance in the direction of the two men, Athenas mutters, "Look who's the weed now, bitch."

A ladder to the surface sits not far behind the women, and with it, a letter from Mason, further detailing the entire plot. Grace hurriedly adds the letter to her arsenal of evidence, and the women take a moment before bidding each other a quick goodbye and dashing off into the night.

Just as Athenas is passing over the railroad tracks, she spots a small flash of light against the inky black horizon. She pulls up short, paying careful attention to the pattern. Four white flashes, three beats dark, five white flashes. Haru remembers the signal.

Athenas approaches from the side; anyone watching her from town would see her enter her home, not to come out again. With a quick dash out the back door and a quiet leap over the fence, she weaves her way through the shadows to find Haru tucked well out of sight.

Before she can launch into her report, Haru speaks up first. "There you are! I was starting to worry, but glad to see you're safe. You seem in high spirits; what did you find?"

Athenas pauses, staring blankly for a moment. When his expression turns from one of relief to concern, she pulls herself back together. "Sorry, there's been a lot of praise from folks I'd never have expected it from. But right, the report…" As she explains, Haru's eyes go wide and his finger taps quickly against the side of his leg as he processes all the new information. When she finishes the story, he quickly thanks her and disappears into the night.

Athenas sighs to herself as she heads back home, paying no mind to Andy's door - now standing slightly ajar - as she throws herself into bed.

The early morning sunlight shines dimly over the desert, vividly illuminating the red bricks of the workshop, but only just beginning to light up the town. As usual, Athenas wastes no time getting to the commerce guild for her commissions, but when she stops yet again at the wanted poster, she can make out several voices calling out from further into town. Curious, she heads to the square, completely unprepared for the scene unfolding before her.

The entire town gathers in Martle Square, murmuring excitedly to one another or slinging questions and demands at the officials lined up on the steps of City Hall. As Athenas looks over the throng, she can make out a small head of messy blonde hair. Before she can sigh in relief her gaze travels upward to the gloved hand resting at the back of her son's head. Swallowing a few choice phrases, she quickly traces a path through the wall of shoulders and elbows. Coming up to take Andy by the hand, she casts a sidelong glance at Pen, who smirks back at her. The boy only shoots her a look and begins fidgeting, scratching at his side and bouncing in place. Just as Pen moves to scold him, Andy stops, gaze set firmly ahead.

Unsuur spots her first from his post behind the mayor, seemingly calm if not for the slight furrow in his brow as Miguel stands next to him, vainly attempting to quell the anxious crowd. Flanked on either side by Matilda and Justice, standing front and center, is Haru.

Athenas' jaw falls slack as she looks on, and eventually, the hushed whispers surrounding her fade into uneasy silence. She glances around, taking stock of the people's worried faces - some less than others, but all unified in their sheer surprise. It takes only a moment for Athenas to notice Grace is missing. She looks back up to Haru, meeting his eyes with a silent question. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, and Athenas worries at her lip.

"We can make it easy on you, my boy," Miguel begins. When Haru doesn't respond, he turns to the Sheriff, "Kindly remind the criminal what he's charged with."

Justice clears his throat and steps forward stiffly. "Uh, right. Haru, you're charged with unlawful destruction of properties, theft, hijacking, kidnapping, and resisting arrest." He glances around furtively. "It's…a long list."

Haru's eyes darken, and he remains silent for only a moment before muttering, "You're the ones…"

Andy flinches and sucks in a sharp breath beneath Pen's suddenly tight grasp. Haru quickly glances between Andy and Athenas. His mouth sets into a firm line as he falls quiet once more. The builder, for her part, reaches over to take hold of one of Pen's fingers, carefully leveraging her digits beneath his and wrenching them backward one by one. She can feel the strain in his fingers as he tries to push back against her, but there's a strange stony calm to her demeanor, an uncanny resolve in her gaze as she stares him down with her feral mismatched look. As she continues to pull the fingertips only an inch from his wrist, the Protector finally yanks his hand from her grasp, letting his fist fall to his side for the time being. Athenas takes the moment to reposition Andy directly in front of her, both hands resting on his shoulders. The boy makes a small face at Pen, but quickly turns forward as the man's darkened gaze follows him with laser focus.

Miguel makes swift work of running through the charges against his reticent hostage, eagerly pushing for a heavy judgment. But even after Arvio stumbles through his defense of Haru, Grace still doesn't appear. Athenas chews at her lip as time grows short. She won't hesitate any longer.

"Pastor, I have a question!" Her call rings clearly through the square, and her mouth runs dry as a sea of faces suddenly turn to her.

"Very well, Athenas," Miguel responds languidly enough, but there's an edge to his tone belying his own anxiety. "What is it?"

"Do you remember when we had that talk about weeds and flowers?" The sea waves swirl with confusion, and the pastor lets out a lengthy sigh.

"Of course. As I recall it was…enlightening."

"You told me then that weeds must be removed from the garden because they'll use up all the water and nutrients in the soil instead of the flowers. Is that right?" Her voice trembles only slightly as she lays down her trail of breadcrumbs.

Miguel huffs impatiently, shifting his weight from side to side. "That is correct, Athenas. Weeds, like this one-"

"Seems pretty hypocritical given that you're the one stealing water from Sandrock!" Athenas shouts out the accusation with every bit of air her lungs can hold. As expected, gasps roll across the crowd like waves crashing at sea. Some turn to Miguel with horrified shock or wide-eyed bafflement. Others turn to Athenas with suspicious glares and asking looks. Unsuur watches in his usual stoic silence. For a moment, Athenas doubts. After all, most nighttime revelations quickly turn rancid in the light of day. But when she looks past the pressure of the crowd, meeting Haru's cobalt gaze, she finds the resolve to steel herself against the torrent.

Miguel beats her to the punch, quickly silencing the crowd as he cries out, "You accuse me of stealing Sandrock's water?! You've truly sunk to a new low, Athenas," he practically spits her name as he speaks, "leveraging such an accusation all to distract from the real threat here." He pauses to take a deep breath, but Athenas can hear the frantic beating of his heart, even from this distance. She can smell the adrenaline-fueled sweat beginning to drip down his neck. He's close to cracking.

Veins bulge and blood rushes in a hot flush as Miguel finally bellows, "WHERE. IS. LOGAN?"

A hush falls over the bewildered crowd, and from behind Athenas, a deep, Sandrock accent coolly calls out, "Lookin' for me?"

Athenas whips her head around to face the voice, and her heart skips a beat. Wordlessly, the crowd parts as Logan steps forward. The builder and her ward watch his every move with wide eyes and slack jaws. He flashes them a small wink as he passes, careful to ignore Pen's murderous gaze.

When Logan finally approaches the stage, Justice is the first to find his voice, regarding the bandit with no small measure of confusion and suspicion. "You…turnin' yourself in, buddy?"

Blue eyes crinkle in what Athenas knows to be a smug grin, and Logan responds with an easy wave of his hand. "Somethin' like that."

"What are you all waiting for?!" the good pastor shrieks. "Get him!"

The Civil Corps moves, but Logan moves faster, dashing back through the throng and vaulting over the railing of the stairs. Athenas' breath catches in her throat as she joins the wave of townsfolk rushing after him. In the confusion Pen attempts to shove past her, but the builder counters with a swift kick to his shin, letting the large man's own momentum carry him face first into the ground. She comes to a halt at the wall overlooking the oasis, and the rest of the town follows suit, blocking any entrance to the stairs below.

Logan leaps atop Rambo's back and points a finger straight at Miguel, fury blazing in his darkened gaze. "Citizens of Sandrock! What if I told you that your very own pastor, yer Protector, and yer Commissioner were the very ones plottin' against you this whole time?"

Whispers and murmurs ripple through the crowd, but no one moves. Tension hangs thick in the cool morning air, and for a moment, Athenas imagines Logan might cut right through it with the dagger hanging from his narrow hips. The idea sends sparks dancing down her spine and goosebumps rippling across her skin. Even now, he seeks her out among the crowd, azure eyes glowing with vindication. When he does find her though, the glow calms for a moment, temporarily replaced with something decidedly softer. Something Athenas might - if she were very, very silly indeed - mistake for affection.

With a shake of his head, and turning his attention to the statue adorning the oasis, Logan begins swinging his lasso. "Better t'show than tell anyway!"

Just as Logan lets loose, Miguel barks out an order to Pen, but his voice is drowned out by the crumbling of stone and the creaking of pipes as the statue comes crashing down. Athenas flashes Andy a triumphant smile as her chest swells with emotion. Her heart races and all her senses seem to hone in on Logan as he rushes back to the square: the proud set to his shoulders, the familiar scent of leather and sweat, the steady gaze that locks on to her and holds her in thrall. It's overwhelming. Thrilling. Terrifying.

The crowd turns back to Miguel as Trudy demands answers. From this distance, Athenas can make out the wild look in his eyes and the restless twitch in his hands, clenching and unclenching, just before he reaches for the sheriff's gun.

A shot rings through the square but it's Matilda who cries out. Unsuur and Fang carry her away, doing their best to staunch the flow of blood. Time skips a beat and Miguel is in handcuffs before Pen comes crashing down. But the space punch doesn't happen. Nothing happens. The "protector" glances down at his fist with a furrowed brow, clenching and unclenching his fingers, turning his hand back and forth. Still nothing happens.

"Looking for this?" Andy pipes up, clutching a small processor in his hand, a smug toothy grin plastered across his face.

"You!" Pen snarls as he advances toward the boy, but pulls up short when Athenas quickly steps forward, pulling Andy behind her and drawing her pistol.

"You're not going anywhere near my son," she growls, finger ready and waiting on the trigger. The tip of the barrel quivers ever so slightly as a rush of adrenaline surges through her, setting her nerves on fire. Her ears prickle with hushed whispers and her skin tingles with the warmth of the rising sun. Her heart races in her chest and her breathing shallows. The quivering barrel begins to tremble and then to shake as red trickles in at the corners of her vision.

"We need him alive!" Justice interrupts, casting a wary glance in her direction. Athenas keeps her focus trained on Pen but pauses when the sheriff speaks. With a huff, she relents, stowing her pistol with one hand while drawing her spear with the other. Pen grins, but wastes no more time as he lunges at her with outstretched hands. Athenas dodges to the left, ducking beneath the blow as she swipes at the back of his knees. The protector lurches forward but catches himself easily, spinning to face her once more with barely a scratch. He's faster than he looks, and catches Athenas off guard with a few quick blows to her side, briefly knocking the wind out of her. Her blood pounds through her veins and her breath comes in short, choppy gasps. The red vignette closes in.

"Nice try, Skinny," he sneers. The words are barely out of his mouth when he pounces, tackling her to the ground with the sheer force of his weight. It's all she can do to avoid being crushed, and Athenas croaks as she gasps for air. "You're pathetic," he snarls. His hand grasps at her throat and begins to squeeze. Even without the relic, it's hard to believe any normal person could have such strength. The thought nags at her as she struggles to break free from his iron grip.

Just in time, Athenas spots a familiar set of horns appear over Pen's shoulder. With a loud crack, Logan slams the butt of his pistol into the back of his head, and the Duvosian agent cries out as he falls to his knees. Athenas sucks in a sharp breath as she scrambles to her feet, quickly bracing the shaft of her spear against the column of his throat in order to yank his head back by the chin. With a hoarse cough, Pen finds himself staring down the barrel of Logan's pistol. Even as he fights to breathe, fire rages in his eyes and a bloody grin splits his lips, but it's only a matter of moments before the inferno is extinguished and his body falls limp, dragging Athenas back to the ground with his deadweight.

"Son of a bitch," she groans as she struggles to shove his comatose form onto his back, dragging herself over him to keep him down while she busies herself with the cuffs. Pen only groans at the weight of her bearing down on his chest, but he remains thankfully asleep.

Logan's eyes soften as Athenas glances up at him. Her hair hangs loose and small sweat-damp waves curl against her cheeks. The morning sunlight glints in her mismatched eyes and highlights her rosy flush. Her chest heaves as she finally begins to calm down, scarred webs dancing across her shoulders, and when she offers him a small exhausted smile, the world seems to stop for a moment.

"We work surprisingly well together," she remarks, ignoring another low groan from the man currently trapped beneath her. For a moment, neither she nor Logan speak, and though they'd never admit it, they each share the same intrusive thought. It's a pesky little idea, one that pops up without warning and seems to take the mind in a stranglehold. Seemingly irrational - yet compelling - drawing them in like moths to a flame.

What if it were Logan pinned down instead? Strong thighs squeezing firmly against his stubbled cheeks, a soft sigh and a giggle of surprise, a sudden jolt of electricity as he finds just the right spot to drive her wild above him? Or perhaps darkened sapphire eyes peering upward, a gaze filled with affection and need, calloused fingertips pressing into soft flesh, holding her in place with an iron grip?

When he realizes he's already indulged the idea far too long, the bandit suddenly coughs and turns away, profusely thanking the Light for the bandana masking his rapidly warming features. "Y-yeah, seems like," he manages to stutter after a while.

Athenas clears her throat and glances down to see Pen rolling his eyes at the display. Or perhaps they were just lolling about in his head? Her cheeks burn bright red and she turns to Justice for help.

The lawman - who had been otherwise preoccupied with watching the fight and dissecting the prolonged moments of intense eye contact - surges forward to take his prisoner.

When Athenas and Rocky catch Yan trying to leave on the train, it's all the restraint they can muster to leave things at only one blow. Something inside her screams at her to fling the unconscious man right out the window, consequences be damned. She's sure Rocky feels the same way, but Unsuur's clear voice cuts through instead.

"Good work guys. We got all the bad guys in one go. This has gotta be a record or something. I'll have to ask the Sheriff." Despite the serenity of his demeanor, his white knuckled grip on Yan's shoulder tells a different story.

As Athenas walks back to the square, Andy rushes up to meet her, dropping his grip on Logan's hand as she sweeps him into a hug. "I'm so proud of you!" she squeals as she spins them both around before coming to a sudden stop and pulling back. "Snagged it while you were fidgeting in the crowd?" The boy beams back at her as he nods and Athenas throws in another spin for good measure. Logan swallows and pulls his bandana back down around his neck.

"We did it," he grins, still in disbelief. "We saved Sandrock! I can finally rest my head easy."

"Rest yer head easy?" Andy pipes up. "I know yer a bandit, but I thought we were above torturin' one of our own!" When both Logan and Athenas cast a concerned glance his way, the boy continues. "Let me back in the gang, damnit!"

"'Course that goes without sayin- wait." Logan narrows his eyes at the boy. "What did you just say?"

Andy stumbles over his response, but Athenas interjects, setting him back down on the ground. "He, uh, probably got that one from me," she grins sheepishly. "Working at the shop, things get - let's say, messy."

"Uh-huh." He raises a stern eyebrow at the pair, but says nothing more. As the two stand next to each other with their matching sheepish grins and tapping feet, part of him can't help but feel jealous at how close they've become. But he would never deny Andy the family he's found here in Sandrock. Besides, there's still room in the picture for a handsome and daring bandit king, right?

"Of course Andy's back in the gang!" Logan nods, echoing the sentiment, and Athenas claps a calloused hand to the boy's shoulder encouragingly. "Speaking of," she turns her attention back to the bandit. "Has Trudy said anything yet?"

"It'll be a day or two but Haru 'n I'll go on trial, serve our debt to the town. After that, I'm not too sure. It'd be nice to go back to just huntin' monsters but-" He pauses, and for a moment he seems to deflate. Athenas can read it in his slumped shoulders and stooped head, the uncertainty, the doubt that eats away at him.

"You're not sure how the town will welcome you back, even after everything today." Athenas finishes the thought for him, ducking her head slightly to meet his lowered eyes. Something changes in his gaze, something the builder isn't quite sure how to read. His brows furrow as he stares back at her, almost as if he's looking for some confirmation hidden behind her scarred expression.

Without warning, he stands up straight, hastily yanking the bandana back into place. "Well, uh, we oughta be gettin' back to the hideout for now. Haru 'n me are on house arrest 'til the sentencing…"

"Already? -I mean, of course, yeah," Logan shoots Athenas a suprised look as she fumbles over her words. "Gotta do what you gotta do, right?" She flashes him what she hopes is a reassuring smile and a quick thumbs up.

"Y-yeah." Logan's mind scrambles as he scours his brain for any remaining scraps of dignity. "Uh, see ya at the trial?" Idiot.

Athenas chuckles at that and nods, unable to stop the small smile from lingering on her lips. As the two seem to tiptoe around each other fruitlessly, Andy glances back and forth between them and grins to himself as he hatches another scheme.

Scheming, as it turns out, will have to wait. Athenas tears through the workshop like a sandstorm, leaving almost as much of a mess in her wake. All kinds of materials lay strewn about the yard, and the pile of stray parts begins to grow into a mountain. The telegram plan had failed, and Duvos could be at their doorstep any moment now. Frivolities, shenanigans, and all general roguery must be put on hold for the time being. Instead, Andy reluctantly occupies himself by assisting Athenas with turret construction.

He lets out an exasperated groan when she asks him to fetch materials yet again. Even after nearly twenty grueling hours at the assembly station, she still refuses to let him do anything other than deliver plating and bearings. The ringing of her hammer pauses as she turns to face him. Sweat drips down her forehead and carves a freckled path through the thick layer of grime and oil smeared across her weary, lined expression. Her back is hunched as she sits-cross legged in front of the partially built turret, and her gnarled, scuffed hands fall into her lap.

"Sorry kiddo," she begins with a sigh. "Can't let you in on this project."

"But why?!" Andy demands with tense shoulders and his fists balled at his sides.

"Andy, listen to me," Athenas beckons him closer with a gentle wave of her hand. When he steps forward, she slides over, giving him a full view of the machine's interior. She holds up a large bullet, at least the length of her finger and even more than the width. "This is a .50 caliber bullet. Just one is enough to rip the heart from a person's chest." She gestures to the gun behind her. "This machine has the power to spit them out at almost 1,000 meters per second, and at a rate of 600 rounds per minute." Andy's eyes go wide as he begins to eye the bullet warily. "This machine is a weapon of war. Its only purpose is to kill." Athenas pauses, playing the casing along her knuckles as she glances back at the turret. "As soon as this is over, I'm melting it down." Another pause and her voice softens to a murmur. "You at least deserve a better chance than I ever got. Everyone here does." She sets the munition gently to the side and folds her hands in her lap. "Now, go grab me some more alloy plates and after that see if you can't rustle up a snack for us both, pretty please."

The boy glances from builder to machine before nodding slowly and making his way to the storage shed. Athenas pinches at the bridge of her nose and takes a deep, trembling breath. Duvos sits at the doorstep of her glass home wielding sledgehammers and wrecking balls. The turret will help, but it's as likely to tear the walls down as it is the enemy. In the distance, she can hear Andy rummaging around in the shed. The clang of metal rings out as he emerges, loading the last of the plates and bearings onto a small wooden cart. He rushes the materials to a skidding stop by the assembly station and takes off for the house. The door slams shut and all falls silent for a moment. The evening breeze is a cool relief for her aching muscles, and she breathes a sigh of exhaustion as she leans back against the turret.

Two sets of boots crunch on the gravel-lined path to her gate, and soon, a soft knock follows. Athenas slowly sits up, reaching down to tighten her brace before making her way to greet the visitors.

"Hey Athenas," Justice calls as the builder approaches. "We're checkin' in on folks as everyone prepares for, well, whatever comes next. How're you an' Andy holdin' up?"

"Good as we can be. Oh!" Athenas hurriedly unlatches the gate and ushers the men in. "I've got something for y'all while you're here." She rushes them inside and guides them down the stairs to a thick steel door, . Justice casts an uncertain glance at his deputy, who only shrugs in response as she slowly pulls the thing open.

As they pass through the threshold into a brightly lit room, their jaws fall slack. Dense gray foam lines the walls of the small space, and nestled into custom molds along the walls sits an almost dizzying array of different pistols and rifles sporting all kinds of modifications and variations. Some are snub-nosed and stocky, others nearly as long as their creator herself, each crafted from different materials, but they all bear the same signature engraved just above the trigger: a single empty eye with a jagged scar running through it.

Justice's gaze darts around the room as he tries to take it all in, even as Unsuur approaches one pistol in particular. The steel of the barrel, trigger, and hammer is plated in gold, and the polished handle is carved from a smooth white stone with a characteristic blue glow in the center.

"Is this…moonstone?" he asks, incredulous.

Athenas shoots him a smug grin. "Thought you might like that one. You can have it if you want. Just watch out for the recoil."

The deputy turns back to the pistol and takes it gingerly in his hands. "They are the most diverse thing in the world," he murmurs to himself in awe. His fingertips trace the sharp lines and smooth curves of the revolver, taking in every detail.

"This is some impressive work, Athenas!" Justice remarks as he pores over the rest of the collection. "Mind if I?" He gestures vaguely to the wall of rifles ahead. Athenas chuckles.

"Go ahead," she chirps. "I won't send our Civil Corps into battle with anything less than the best, so take what you like."

The sheriff jerks around to face her. "You sure, partner? Seems like a lot of time and care went into these."

But Athenas only shrugs. "Someone's gotta use 'em, and I'd much prefer they get put to work protecting Sandrock, rather than just sitting and collecting dust. And besides," she pauses, suddenly refusing to make eye contact. "I owe you one, don't I? You two have been by my side since the beginning of all this, even when I didn't make it easy or deserve it." There's a pause as she clears her throat, and her voice drops to a murmur as she continues. "Just wanna make sure I pay my debts, y'know?" A hesitant shrug.

Justice's brow furrows as he takes a step closer. "You feelin' alright there, Athenas? Startin' t'sound a little fatalistic." The concern in his voice settles like a stone in the pit of the builder's stomach. Her jaw clenches against the tide of unspoken confessions bubbling up as she resists the overwhelming urge to reveal her secrets. But Justice continues, "Listen, whatever it is you're not saying, well - no pressure, but honestly Athenas, you're a one woman army. You're a big part of the reason we have any hope of winning this thing at all. Sandrock has always been the underdog, and somehow, we've always found a way to adapt." Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she finally tilts her head to face him. "I ain't givin' up on this town just yet, and that includes you, partner." His tone is soothing as he places a gentle hand on her shoulder before pulling her into a bear hug. "We'll find a way. We always do."

When he finally sets her dangling feet back on the ground, Athenas is a mess. Her eyes are an even deeper shade of crimson than her cheeks as she wipes her runny nose on her sleeve. Her hands tremble ever so slightly as she fills a few crates with more weapons and supplies and hurries the corpsmen on their way. As they finally round a corner and disappear from view Athenas slumps against the doorframe of her workshop, sliding to her knees, suddenly exhausted. Andy's empty plate sits on the counter behind her, and she can hear him playing out in the yard. She takes a deep breath, and it's as if the air around her has suddenly tripled in weight, bowing her head and hunching her back. She stays there a moment, kneeling against the sturdy wooden frame. But the brace begins to engrave itself into her flesh and her toes go numb.

Her blood pounds in her ears as she collapses instead onto the sofa, leaving her braced leg to rest on the small coffee table in front. From her pocket, she pulls out a small pill bottle. A quick rattle confirms the stimulant's almost out. She sighs and quickly swallows the remaining tablets. The builder huffs a quick breath and closes her eyes, waiting for the medicine to work.

In the sudden stillness, the uneasy doubts she had been forcing down finally worm their way into her focus. Ever since the injections, she's been living on borrowed time. She'll be lucky to make it through the coming fight, and even if she does, she'll still be a threat to the town. Perhaps she'll go to the Peripheries to live out her days until she finally encounters something mean enough to kill her. That'd be ideal, but reality rarely ever lines up so nicely. If she does lose herself in the fight to come, someone else will have to take the shot. Unsuur and Justice would be her first choices, but they may hesitate, may not want to see the beast she's becoming. No, she'll need someone with the experience to know when a monster needs to be put down.

Resolved to her plan and finally feeling the medicine kicking in, Athenas rushes outside, but almost immediately pulls up short. A faint noise pricks at her ears, and she moves to the front of the shop, listening closely. As she rounds the corner, the sounds begin to come through more clearly, and the builder's breath catches in her throat. The longer she listens, the more her heart seems to pound in time to the rhythm: heavy boots crunching against gravel, dozens of boots, and all advancing quickly.

"Andy!" she cries, dashing across the yard as she searches frantically for the boy. It doesn't take long for him to pop up from behind a recycler with furrowed brows hanging low over wide, panicked eyes. As soon as she spots him, Athenas rushes over . Bending down, she pulls a small sheathed dagger from the top of her boot and clips it to the waistband of his pants, tucked away safely beneath the cape. "They're here. Take the knife but only use it if you have to. Do not fight back against those men, Andy." She cups his face in her hands, staring straight into his eyes as she speaks. "Right now, we fight smart, okay? And when the time comes, we fight back hard. So stay in the Temple and look after everyone." He nods quickly as she continues. "With the knife, slash - don't stab - and do it sideways across the limbs. Focus on drawing as much blood as you can as quickly as you can. But this?" She taps at the blade hanging from his belt. "It's a last resort only. It'll buy you just enough time to run away, so don't be a hero. Do you understand?"

Andy nods firmly in response, doing his best to appear stoic and resolute. If Athenas notices his trembling lips and weak knees, she says nothing.

"Good," the builder brushes a rough hand across her face. The soldiers aren't far now; only a matter of minutes before they swarm the city. She whistles for her horse and wastes no time tossing her ward into the saddle. "Head straight to the temple," she instructs him. "And if there was ever a time to be as loud as you possibly can, it's now. Make sure the whole town knows Duvos is here! I'll get the turret set up in the meantime, and when all of this is over, we'll come back home together."

The boy nods once more, his face ashen as Athenas gives his hand a quick squeeze before sending him on his way. With a quick smack to the rear, the horse is gone in seconds, bearing its tiny rider quickly to their destination, even as he cries out into the rapidly darkening night.

Athenas races to her assembly station, and after a few quick rivets, makes her way to Martle Square, careful to avoid the main road into town while carrying the damned machine. Her heart races as she prays for a miracle.

Logan paces back and forth across the large, empty cavern. In the otherwise silent room, each step of his boots rings out and echoes back at him in what quickly becomes an irritating cacophony. Haru should be back by now, but there's been no sign of him, and to disobey the arrest order while they're both so close to earning their redemption… Most likely he just got caught up by Arvio on the way back. Logan gives his partner an hour before he goes hunting. But what to do in the meantime?

His gaze turns to the two goats situated nearby, standing with their eyelids half-closed as they nap in place. Moving closer, he reaches out a gentle hand to scratch at Rambo's forehead, one of his favorite spots. The goat's ears twitch briefly at the contact and flicker toward Logan's low voice as he begins to ramble.

"We'll be out of here soon enough, boy. Finally back home in the old place, at least after we've served our sentences." The goat snorts at that and Logan lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah I suppose you'll be a free man either way, huh? Must be nice." Rambo lets out a quick huff and returns to his nap somewhat smugly.

Logan's hand drops softly to the wooden fence between them, and his knuckles tap nervously against the smooth grain. Once he's done his time, he'll need to work things out with Athenas and Andy. As much as he loves the kid, he can't rightly take him away from her, but would Andy really be happier bouncing between two homes constantly? He's a strong kid, but after everything he's been through, stability is exactly what he needs. Of course, they could always stay in one house together like a proper family.

"Yeah, 'cause she'll appreciate two ex-bandits suddenly asking to move in," he mutters to himself, his voice drenched in sarcasm. "Dumbass."

Maybe Athenas will be the one to come and finally arrest them. It's been two days since the Peach fountain came down; the trial should be coming up soon. Would she greet him with the same warmth in her eyes as she had after taking down Pen? Or would she return to her stern, authoritative mask? She shifts like night and day, turning the very marrow in his bones to ice with her white-eyed glare only for the moment to dissipate, and soon, that steely façade melts away to reveal a tender heart, bruised and battered, but still beating strong for the ones she loves. When she turns to him with that look, it's as though he's falling through fifty feet of searing Sandrock air only to crash into the oasis below, suddenly enveloped and lifted by the cool currents. The longer she stays, the longer he can linger in the waters that drown out the noise of the world and leave him floating through the still, blissful silence. His face grows warm beneath the mask, and he yanks it down, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths.

Off to the side, the goats turn restless. Their eyes snap open and they paw nervously at the ground. Logan slowly approaches the pair, murmuring more soothing placations, but neither Rambo nor Merle pay him any mind. Their ears prick up and their breathing goes heavy just as heavy gunfire rings out in the distance.

[agent-8449]

Agent Logos CJverse chatroom summary.... REAL!!!!

Clears throat. This may be a long post, be warned. Actually, yeah. Bwoink.

The OG AU: Voice of Reason

Whole: Dead as fuck. Sort of. Way before the events of the comic, their Whole 'died'. We refer to not-dead Whole OOCly as 'Hope', but he also sort of exists afterwards as a figment of himself-- the 'shadow' called Cast. Cast can only speak in song lyrics, and currently resides in... the TMAverse, as a cursed item. Woaw.

Heart: Would kill you if you called him Heart. Ozzy/Oz/Ozymandias is a real piece of work. Sourceless guilt incarnate, magically influenced by a cursed mirror to eat it, in a symbolic attempt to erase himself. He's so chill. So fine. So cool. Definitely not so close to collapsing at all times. Got glasses though.

Mind: Tinker/Ulysses. So violently soggy, but hides it under his inexplicable British accent and polite demeanour. Made the transmitters that allow Thirds to traverse between their Surrealities. He half-regrets this. The only one of the three fully aware that Cast is an actual sentient guy. Hid his Soul's trident in his hand after the comic, and so that hole is very much still there <he's 'fixing' it atm...>

Soul: Coda. Coba. Coba Cola. What a disaster. After the comic, it <he/it> was kept in his room as much as possible. Then Oz left, and he completely lost it. It was a big storyline, so feel free to ask about it. Coda is really fun because he's not sane

Me-only AU 2: The Negatives

Whole: Eris... also known as Chase. The Negatives are a sort of "reversal of personality". Eris is a shitty content farm-making YouTuber, and generally hates this too. He also has to deal with the Cold War he sort of constructed with his own Thirds. He remembers what his Thirds do, which is good because he split <past tense> often... like. Every day. They called it 'shifts'. Yeah.

Heart: Phobos, ahhhhh my horrible boy Phobos. Personification of egoism, self-aggrandization, imagination, and intrusive thoughts. Green. Mean. A bitch and a half. Generally sadistic. The de-facto leader of the Negative Thirds. Wears crocs. Idolises Whole.

Mind: Deimos. That is all. Personification of logic, reasoning, and thinking ahead. He is also an absolute goon and pushover. All too happy to be Phobos' lackey.

Soul: Nemesis, though he hates that nickname. Personification of 'cringe culture', self-doubt, second-hand embarassment, and critical thinking. Basically ignored by the other two. Does all the work in the Vessel. Clinically annoyed by everything all the time. Very spiteful.

ASSORTED GUYS <from co-op AUs>:

Allen: Soul from Voib, Andy, Shade and I's AI AU, also known as Reification Initiative: Apotheosis. Yeah I came up with that. My bad. Allen is shitty. So very shitty. Ran away. That's all I can say for now.

Valentine: Heart from WAAAILSSSSSS IT'S ONLY ME BUT HIS COUNTERPARTS ARE ALL DEAAAAD. The Bachelor AU, a 'Lonely' AU. He is trying to live his life now that he fucked up and he's alone. He committed arson. He has to go to government-mandated therapy. He is beloved.

Nyx: Whole from Xanadu AU. Haven't done much with him, but he's in space, and he's an idiot.

Vlinder: :>

Thyme: Mind from the Aonaran/Apocalypse AU. The world ended. It be like that sometimes. And the stress got to their Whole. Thyme killed multiple people.

Pursuit: Heart (2) from Voib's Labyrinths AU. He is big kitty cat lad. Does eat people. Tries to maintain the status quo. Genuinely satisfied with the state of things.

Magna: Mind from Demersal AU. Basically, he got pitted instead of Heart for being a delusional little shit. He did not get any less delusional. Conspiracy nut, drowning 1/4th of the time, and generally horrible person.

Brevity: Soul from Voib and I's Syncopation AU. Olde Mann. No legs, they froze off. He is not mentally well at all, but he's got to keep it together if he wants to continue being 'him'.

Crawl: Heart from the Asides AU. Fourth-wall breaking eldritch horror. Collector of things. Collector of extinct things. Full name 'Crawl of the Horizon'.

"Quinn": Soul from Good Day. Very new AU with me, Voib, Q-ott, and Ledge <@/nitroish>. Meant to be close to album guys. He's denying his halves exist and matter atm.

There you go! Not including the alternate timelines because jesus christ

[the73rdpostscript]

Tell me again about No Sleep Till JoeNicky - 7 - nice version and also tell me about aaaaahhhhhhh

(I know you know the background of this fic, but since most people don't I'm just gonna explain it.)

I'm writing a modern au where Joe develops really bad insomnia and discovers that the only way he can get some sleep is if he's sleeping...next to Nicky. He doesn't like Nicky but he REALLY needs to sleep before his big art show so they have to make it work and oh my GOSH wouldn't you know it they fall in love.

The first draft of this fic had Joe acting too rude for too long without adequate reason. I was essentially half-assing an enemies to lovers when the vibe of the story was just cutesy romcom stuff and it didn't work at all - even though I had some really fucking good scenes in there if I do say so myself.

So right now the story is being reformatted so that Joe is less of an asshole and the climax of the fic is no longer the two of them being vulnerable and apologizing to each other at a sleep clinic.

So since the sleep clinic climax isn't happening I'm gonna just share it here. It's a very long section but I really like what I had.

So....enjoy a massive amount of writing that is now totally irrelevant!

-

“I need to sleep! I want to sleep! And ideally I would be able to do that away from you!” Joe shouts.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Across from him, Nicky has gone completely still - mouth pinched shut and eyes shifting from hurt to distant so quickly Joe would miss it if he hadn’t spent the last week looking into those same eyes every morning and every night.

“Then it seems we have no more need to keep up the charade, as you called it.” Nicky says quietly. He might as well be sitting in an office meeting with strangers.

“Nicky, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I’d like you to leave now.” Joe thought he had heard the worst of Nicky’s coldness during the first fight they ever had. The ice in Nicky’s voice now would have shredded him that first day. It’s all he can do to look at Nicky long enough to nod and turn away.

-

He walks home, even though his hands are shaking and his legs feel weak. The cold air is an unpleasant sensation and he thinks he might be in trouble if it’s still better than the feeling he has after that fight.

When he gets home he walks past Nicky's shortbread and eats leftover takeout that smells questionable at best.

Maybe there was something to his false bravado about not needing Nicky, because after an hour of crying to himself he falls asleep on his couch, alone.  

-

The next day he can barely get any work done, and the Nicky painting sits in the corner, staring at him as he struggles with the other canvas – the one he was so close to finishing yesterday.

Around dinnertime, Quynh sends him an email with the options for an appointment at the sleep clinic – detailing the merits of the place, and asking for a response when he’s able. When they’re able actually. Nicky is the other recipient of the email, and though he hasn’t responded with his availability yet, Joe knows he’s seen it.

Nicky is always checking his phone – Joe’s seen him do it so many times he could paint the gesture from every angle. He would want to do one from just behind, and capture the privacy of the moment from over Nicky’s shoulder, highlighting the angle of his nose as the screen lights it up, and the clench of his jaw that he never seems to notice. Maybe Nicky would sleep better if he looked at his phone less.

The email stares up at him from his phone, and Quynh’s impatience is clear in every perfectly chosen word. There are implications there: Quynh and Nicky have spoken since last night, or Andy and Nicky. Maybe Nicky didn’t say anything and Quynh saw his mood at lunch. She’s been suspiciously quiet towards Joe since this whole thing started and it hasn’t escaped Joe’s notice that Andy introduced her to Joe after she was already friends with Nicky.

Joe’s pulse spikes at the idea of losing Quynh or Andy over this. But then he remembers the time that Booker almost hit Joe outside the nightclub, and the time that Andy disappeared for a week in the middle of her own wedding preparations. Joe doesn’t make friends with people who would turns him away over a single fight. Even if he feels like he might deserve it right now.

None of this matters in the moment, however. Joe had asked for a solution to his sleep problem that doesn’t include Nicky, and that’s what’s being offered.

With a sigh, he sends back his availability, and he only barely resists throwing his phone when Nicky responds less than a minute later with his own confirmation of a date that will work.

Before he can stop himself, Joe opens a text message to Nicky, and he gets halfway through his first sentence before he realizes that he doesn’t know what he could say that would even start to address everything that’s happened so far.

Instead he shuts his phone and pulls out an old canvas he once left half finished out of sheer annoyance. He paints until the sun comes up, and then he paints some more.

-

The sleep clinic is small. Joe only sees two assistants and one clinician. The assistants have Joe fill out forms when he arrives, perched awkwardly on a plastic chair next to Nicky.

Between the staff’s polite and distant demeanor, and Nicky’s stoic compliance, Joe feels like he’s alone in the room. It isn’t until they’re asked to detail what’s been going on that he feels a semblance of normalcy.

“So that’s why we’re here to see you,” Joe finishes, having taken point on explaining the situation.

The clinician behind the desk looks at Nicky. “Anything to add?”

Nicky shrugs, “Joe covered it all more or less accurately. I have been struggling with sleep for longer than him, but sleeping beside him has let me sleep regularly and more easily.”

“How much longer have you had trouble sleeping?” The clinician asks, looking down at Nicky’s chart.

Joe watches the lines of Nicky’s shoulder lift – tension clear in his jaw, “I don’t think that’s relevant.”

The clinician responds coolly, “I can’t help you without the proper background information.”

Glancing at Joe, Nicky lets out a sigh, “I stopped sleeping well in my late teenage years.”

Joe tries not to visibly respond, but he can feel his mouth drop open. Beside him, Nicky seems to tense more - as if he can sense Joe’s reaction.

“Any idea what caused the change?”

“I don’t think Nicky needs to share that,” Joe says, speaking before he thinks about it. The idea of Nicky being asked to tell a strangers details that he hasn’t even been able to tell Joe after a week of sleeping in the same bed feels inappropriate at best. This was not a part of his plans to get some sleep.

If Nicky has anything to say about the interruption, he doesn’t get the chance as the clinician addresses Joe, “We are not mind readers Mr. Al-Kaysani. We can’t tell you what is going on with you if we don’t have context for the things you’re experiencing.”

“That may be true, but Nicky didn’t want to share any of this with me before, and I don’t-“

“Nothing changed,” Nicky interrupts Joe with all the calm that Joe can’t feel, “I could not even guess why I stopped sleeping. I’m sorry if that hinders any part of this study.” Something in his voice sounds off, but the clinician doesn’t seem to notice as she nods.

“Okay. Well thank you for telling us what you could. I can’t promise any results tonight, but we will do our best with what we get.”

As the woman rises from her chair, Joe turns to look at Nicky. The other man is gathering his coat and his bag – avoiding Joe’s eyes.

It’s all Joe can do not to grab him and ask him if he still wants to do this at all.

-

When they’re led into a room with two twin beds, Nicky still isn’t looking at Joe.

They were directed to put on their own sleepwear before they came in, and Joe notices that the shirt Nicky picked is different than the worn out ones he usually wears to bed. Joe himself is wearing sweatpants that he normally works out in, and he isn’t even close to feeling relaxed as they get into their respective beds.

The woman speaks over the intercom to them, instructing them to try and sleep but not to feel pressure. They have time, according to her.

For a few minutes, Joe and Nicky lay in silence.

“Quynh didn’t come,” Joe observes at last, “I thought she might.”

“Her meeting ran late,” Nicky responds, voice stiff.

And with that, they return to silence.

Another few minutes pass by, and Joe knows they can’t have been there long, but he’s distinctly aware of how slow time is moving based on how loud Nicky’s breathing feels – uneven and overwhelming over the distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says, suddenly.

In the silence, Nicky’s breathing has changed, “Scusi?”

“I’m sorry that they asked you about your past, and that you have to be here at all. This wasn’t where I thought we’d end up.”

For a long time they lay in silence.

“Where did you think we’d end up?” Nicky asks.

Joe opens and closes his mouth several times before Nicky shifts in his bed and says, “We should try counting down again.” The lights of the room are dim but not completely dark and Joe can see Nicky laying stiffly under the sheets – looking as uncomfortable as Joe feels.

“Alright. 10, 9, 8,”

Nicky joins him on 7, and this time Joe is still awake when he gets to 1, so he hears Nicky’s voice slow down and drop off during the countdown. For a moment the only sound in the room is the unnatural hum of a different air system, and the steady inhaling and exhaling of Nicky’s sleep.

-

The clinician wakes Joe up, and after a moment of feeling disoriented, he looks over at where Nicky is already sitting up – waiting for one of the assistants to finish pulling the sensors off his face.

“Did you find anything?” Joe asks the clinician, not bothering to let her say anything before he sits up and reaches to help her pull the sensors off.

She catches his hands and tells him to be patient and to relax a moment, but he only lowers his hands and asks, “Did you get what you needed?”

“We got what we needed, but I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed with what we discovered.”

Joe can’t see Nicky’s face but he can feel the tension radiating off of him.

The clinician steps back to more clearly address them both as she says, “We’ve confirmed that there’s nothing unusual about your physical readings when you sleep beside each other. There’s nothing specific going on biologically that we can point to right now.”

Joe wants to scream. “What does that mean?”

For the first time all night, the woman looks a little soft as she addresses him, “It means I don’t have any answers for you, Mr. Al-Kaysani.”

"So why cant I sleep without him?" He can’t stop himself from asking.

The woman gives him a patient look as she responds, "It could be any number of things. External or internal. Rhythms of your apartment, lack of sound, a pet, nightmares, anxiety-"

Joe doesn’t know why, but the very word makes him choke. “Are you saying that being without Nicky gives me anxiety?" Before he finishes the question he’s looking over at Nicky, and Nicky turns to look back. His face is intense and his gaze unwavering. It’s the expression he made the night that they talked about his nightmares – scared and determined and so unbelievably vulnerable that it makes Joe choke on the last word. Something in Nicky’s jaw ticks, and Joe wonders about it for a moment before Nicky speaks and the moment dissipates.

"Impossible. Anyone who feels anxiety when I'm gone has never lost an argument about something as stupid as whether or not [team] will make it to [tournament]."

Joe crushes the urge to argue and takes the offering for what it is, turning to the doctor and asking, "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

The doctor hums and looks down at her chart, "if you don't have any more questions, I'll let you both go. We have all we need for now and you'll get results in your email within a few days."

-

They leave the lab in relative silence, and as they step out of the doors, Joe asks, “Will you come back to my place?”

Nicky looks startled at the question, and Joe remembers just as suddenly what day it is.

“Oh. Right, you have that thing.”

After a brief look of confusion, Nicky’s expression turns to something that might be either frustrated or fond, “That’s not tonight. I’d be happy to come back to your place.”

The radio keeps them company on the drive back to Joe’s apartment, and it isn’t until they get inside that Joe thinks to ask, “Did you cancel your mystery guests?”

“I did,” Nicky says, sounding tired. For a moment, they stand in the hallway together – Joe leaning against the wall and Nicky with his hands on his hips. They must paint a rather sad picture – half in and half out, of both the apartment and this peace that could be something deeper if they let it. If Joe let it, maybe.

“I’m sorry.”

“So you said,” Nicky replies, one corner of his mouth lifting, “Show me where your kitchen is. I think we both could use something to eat.”

Once Joe’s gotten Nicky acquainted with the space and convinced him to keep the cooking simple, he settles himself the counter he thinks will be least in the way.

“You know don’t have to cook for me. I wouldn’t exactly want to feed me right now after everything.”

“That is why it’s good that you don’t make decisions for me,” Nicky says, digging around in the fridge, “You could do something for me though.”

“What?”

Standing up straight, Nicky turns to meet Joe’s eyes. “Tell me what this has all been about.”

-

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Andy is already getting more touchy with reader… brushing her cheek? That alone would make me uncomfortable

Oh I'd be freaked out but poor reader has no idea how to react bc she just locks up. And he swings between hot and cold. She's so used to be poked and prodded by doctors too so all touch she ever experienced is clinical

[gingerwerk]

It’s WIP Wednesday and since I seemingly only get writing inspo I while in the car driving to work or when I’m at work now, here is an excerpt for a possible upcoming hbo war au

(but also this scene probably won’t actually be in the fic because of the Andy pov but I Liked it so in posting it for fun)

Enjoy

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

“Listen, I understand that you definitely didn’t meet him at his best but trust me when I say that Walt is a good kid,” Andy explained emphatically, hands gripping the cold hard edge of the interrogation table. He looked up at Speirs’ cold, dark eyes and when he found the man seemingly waiting for more, Andy continued. “He’s aimless. He’s bored. You grew up in Matilda, you know how it can be- kids will find entertainment by whatever means necessary but that doesn’t make them bad people.”

“These antics left unchecked however will create bad people,” Speirs responded coldly.

“I am not at all saying we let him off the hook,” Andy continued firmly. “I fully endorse Sheriff Riggi’s idea of community service but I think if we want this to really stick we have to actually let him be of service to the community. Picking up trash in the park is a mindless punishment and it doesn’t teach him anything. It’s a slap on the wrist and I’m afraid that it won’t actually change his behavior.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Sheriff Riggi asked calmly, intrigued.

“We should make this an actual learning experience, not just a punishment,” Andy explained. “Doc is always begging people to volunteer around the clinic, help with blood drives, assist with inventory- and he’s not the only one around town who asks for help and rarely gets it. Instead of having Walt pick up trash and scrub his friends’ graffiti off buildings, he could actually help the community. Maybe somewhere along the way he could learn a new interest, maybe a future career… if nothing else maybe he could interact with some adults who aren’t me or his teachers. If he doesn’t want to listen to us, maybe he’d listen to one of them and it could shape up his character.”

It was a bit of a Hail Mary request, Andy was aware, as he watched Speirs’ jaw tense. His nephew was seventeen and already had a laundry list of offenses to his name; if Speirs really wanted to, he could have Walt seriously punished and there’d be little he could do to stop it. Andy did not know Speirs or how vindictive he might be against a teenage boy but he could only hope that his reasonable explanation and Sheriff Riggi’s level head would be enough to keep his nephew out of serious legal trouble.

“Fine,” Speirs responded tersely after a long pause; it took Andy’s tired brain to realize what the man had said. Glancing at the Sheriff, Andy found even she looked surprised.

“Really?” Andy couldn’t help but utter. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“You can let him know that if he messes up again, you’ll both find I’ll be in a less charitable mood,” Speirs responded, voice a bone-chilling level of calm.

“I understand.”

“Well, that’s great, I’m glad we were able to come to a resolution so quickly,” the sheriff said calmly as she got up from her seat. “Perhaps we should find another time soon to hammer out the details of Mr. Hasser’s punishment- possibly when we’ve all had a bit more sleep.” Andy watched as the Sheriff pointedly turned and looked at Spiers. “It is a school night after all and both Mr. Haldane and Mr. Hasser will need their rest for tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Speirs responded sharply again, dark eyes flickering towards the Sheriff briefly before he got up from his own seat. “We can hammer out the plans tomorrow.”

“Sounds perfect,” Andy said gratefully as he got up from his own seat; he was exhausted and already knew in the back of his mind that sleep was still very far away for him. He still needed to personally talk to Walt. “And thank you so much, again, the both of you.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Sheriff Riggi said.

With a nod and another grateful look to Speirs, Andy turned and ducked out of the room. Still sitting in the hallway on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, doing his best to look like a kicked puppy, was Walt. A few years ago, on Walt’s first trip to the Matilda police station, he had found his nephew sitting similarly in the exact same seat. That time Andy remembered how he actually felt bad when he saw his nephew like that, how he knew Walt’s fear of getting in serious trouble had made the poor kid almost petrified. Now however, the puppy dog expression and hunched shoulders was merely part of this song and dance they had been through way too many times now and it made him feel deeply frustrated- angry even. His nephew must have sensed this shift in Andy because he could see the way his blue eyes dilated in what could only be fear.

“Come on,” Andy ordered gruffly before he started walking towards the exit, not waiting for Walt to get up from his seat.

“They’re springing me? Already?” he asked, confused.

“The sheriff needs more time to figure out your punishment. She figured it’d be best to announce your sentencing tomorrow,” Andy explained flatly, looking over his shoulder just in time to catch Walt’s terrified expression.

As the two of them exited the station, Andy desperately hoped his half-baked plea for Walt actually worked. Feeling an uncomfortable and unfamiliar rage built up inside of him the further they moved from the station, Andy didn’t want to know what he’d feel if Walt put them in this situation again. This plan had to work.

[masterofd1saster]

CJ current events Hallowe'en 24

Excellent article by Madeleine Kearns, October 24, 2024

***

Wasn't there something about separate sovereigns?

Florida filed suit against the Department of Justice for blocking the state's investigation into an assassination attempt against Donald Trump at the former president's golf course in West Palm Beach. State Attorney General Ashley Moody filed a complaint in a Florida federal court against U.S. Attorney General Merrick Garland, Bloomberg Law reported Wednesday. Moody asked the court to stop the federal government from preventing Florida's investigation into alleged would-be assassin Ryan Routh while the DOJ also probes the incident.***

https://www.newsmax.com/newsfront/florida-sues-doj/2024/10/24/id/1185293

***

National Review notes

◼ The Portland Press Herald released a searching report on Maine’s mental-health laws, which, had they been applied, might have prevented the October 2023 mass shooting in Lewiston by 40-year-old Robert Card. Card killed 18 people and shot another 13 that day. To the surprise of his acquaintances, he had been released from a New York psychiatric hospital in August. He had been acting strangely for months, believing that more and more people were out to get him. Medical staff diagnosed psychosis. He had a growing “hit list.” But after he made promises to take his meds and attend follow-ups, he walked out. Eighty-three days later, the massacre. Maine has a law to compel people like Card to comply with outpatient treatment or face involuntary commitment. But law-enforcement officials in the state hardly knew such a law existed, and the legislature has done little to fund programs that would make the law easier to use. What lies at the bottom of the Card case are a thicket of regulations, precedents, and prejudices that bias law enforcement and health-care workers toward releasing obviously psychotic patients into their own care. Those who might do so are discouraged from intervening decisively even in the presence of threats and are given a clear go-ahead only when psychotic patients do hurt someone. Not just safety but common decency and justice require that those suffering dangerous psychosis be put into the care of those trained to deal with them.

***

Really cold case

ST. CHARLES, Ill. (AP) — Investigators have determined that a skull discovered in the wall of an Illinois home in 1978 was that of an Indiana teenager who died more than 150 years ago, authorities announced Thursday. The skull went forgotten until March 2021, when museum supervisors discovered it during an inventory audit. They called police, who sent the skull to the coroner's office. Working with Othram Laboratories, a forensic laboratory in Texas that assists law enforcement, the office was able to build a DNA profile from the skull that suggested it was that of Esther Granger, a 17-year-old woman who died during childbirth in Merrillville, Indiana, in 1866. The investigators matched the DNA profile to Granger's great-great grandson, Wayne Silvar, allowing them to confirm her identity.*** Burial records indicate she was interred in Lake County, Indiana. Kane County Coroner Rob Russell speculated in a news release that grave robbers may have dug up her body to sell it to physicians looking to learn more about human anatomy.

***

What new evidence? The cousin -Andy Cano - testified at trial.

Timing of DA Gascón’s decision on Menendez case raises questions for some

Gascón defends plan to seek resentencing for Menendez brothers; critics say he wants to help his reelection effort

By Linh Tat | ltat@scng.com

UPDATED: October 25, 2024 at 8:23 a.m.

When Los Angeles District Attorney George Gascón said earlier this month that he would revisit the famous murder case of Erik and Lyle Menendez and decide whether to ask a judge to consider resentencing the brothers, some people – including his political rival – questioned the timing of his announcement. Gascón, a Democrat who swept into office in 2020 thanks to a progress voter base made up of criminal justice reform advocates, is trailing by double digits in the polls in his bid for reelection this November. And on Thursday, Oct. 24, his opponent in the D.A. race, former federal prosecutor Nathan Hochman, accused the incumbent of using the Menendez brothers’ high-profile case to score political points. In a statement, Hochman said the D.A.’s office received a petition back in May 2023 and a request to resentence them in February of this year.*** “With Gascón trailing by 30 points in the polls, his desperation is palpable,” Andersen’s attorney, Kathy Cady, said in a statement Thursday. “The upcoming election is less than two weeks away, and it seems Gascón is willing to manipulate the facts for a fleeting chance to salvage his political career. But justice should never be sacrificed for political gain,” Cady said. “His decisions must be grounded in truth and law, not a last-ditch effort to sway voters. Gascón’s failure to uphold his ethical responsibilities is a disgrace, and the victims of this horrific crime, including Mr. Andersen, deserve far better than being pawns in a politician’s game.” Gascón previously said he chose to reexamine the case because of recent new evidence – a letter that Erik Menendez reportedly wrote to a cousin years ago, which his attorneys say corroborates allegations that their father was sexually abusive, plus claims by a former member of the Latin pop group Menudo who recently came forward and said he was raped by Jose Menendez in the 1980s when he was a teenager. Public interest in the case was renewed because of two documentaries about the Menendez brothers released this year.*** Michele Hanisee, president of the Association of Los Angeles Deputy District Attorneys, the union representing nearly 900 deputy district attorneys in L.A., had a different take. The union has endorsed Hochman in the upcoming election. In a post on the union’s website, Hanisee criticized the D.A.’s decision, saying “Gascón’s actions make it clear that he is more interested in using his office for free media attention than in actual justice. His self-serving agenda has left victims and their families neglected while he chases the next headline.” Gascón’s campaign declined to comment for this article.

Erik testified about the alleged abuse in great detail for roughly seven full court days. In addition, Brian Anderson, a cousin of Lyle and Erik, testified about severe physical abuse that Petitioners suffered at the hands of Jose. Diane Vandermolen testified about physical and verbal abuse by both Jose and Kitty. Andy Cano, also a cousin, testified that Erik confided to him that Jose was molesting Erik. Cano testified also that Erik always had bruises on his body. Menendez v. Terhune, 422 F.3d 1012, 1033 (9th Cir. 2005).

***

One day of front page news from the Denver Post

Murder charges filed against different juvenile in Rotella Park shooting

A different juvenile suspect is now charged with first-degree murder in the shooting death of a 15-year-old boy at Rotella Park.

Denver cardiologist Stephen Matthews sentenced to 158 years in prison for serial sexual assaults

“You placed a substance in our tequila drinks and then proceeded to take full advantage of our minds, bodies and souls.”

Denver man convicted of trying to entice 13-year-old for sex

Gabriel Estrada, 30, was talking to an undercover agent who was impersonating a teenager on a chat app.

Denver Lyft driver convicted of 30 crimes, including kidnapping, sexual assault

Police said Pastor-Mendoza had a pattern of picking up women who were intoxicated and had sought safe rides home, posing as the driver assigned to their ride request.

***

tues

How do you go broke selling weed?

Green Dragon, one of Colorado’s largest cannabis companies, is preparing to cease operations. The company said in a notice to the state labor department last week that it plans to lay off all 59 workers at its 92,000-square-foot grow facility at 830 Wyandot St. in Denver by year end.*** Clark declined to comment when reached by email. Azzalino said he is unsure what Clark plans to do, but he is “certain” that what is currently Green Dragon will not exist in the future. He said the new ownership group is in wait-and-see mode. “Result of the election will play a major role in that, specifically Amendment 3 in Florida, which could be a catalyzing event,” he said. Amendment 3 would legalize recreational marijuana in the state. The state will vote on it Nov. 5. Eaze acquired Green Dragon roughly three years ago, but in mid-2023, Green Dragon co-founders Lisa Leder, Andrew Levine and Alex Levine sued the company for fraud. They alleged Eaze misrepresented its finances in the lead up to the sale and wrongfully fired the trio in February 2023, court documents show. The case was dismissed months later in November. Levine, still a shareholder in the company, filed another civil suit against Eaze on Aug. 6, court records show. The suit aims to investigate whether Clark and board member Thomas Jermoluk conspired to acquire the company’s assets at below-market value, according to Green Market Report.***

***

Wed

Daniel Penny trial update

NEW YORK (WABC) -- As jury selection continues in the Daniel Penny trial, Jordan Neely's family is pushing back against the hiring of a well-known jury consultant. Neely's family rallied alongside members of Black Lives Matter New York on Tuesday against Jo-Ellan Dimitrius, who is working with Penny's defense team to help pick the jury that will decide if he is guilty of manslaughter.*** Dimitrius has been seen with the Penny defense team every day since jury selection started last week. Most recently, she helped select a jury in the Kyle Rittenhouse trial. Rittenhouse was acquitted in 2021 in the shooting deaths of two Black Lives Matter protesters in Wisconsin. Dimitrius is well-respected and sought-after, having worked as a jury consultant for decades. She helped pick jurors for the trials involving O.J. Simpson, Rodney King and Kobe Bryant.***

***

Holy Smokes!

***

Expected to count?

Ann Arbor — A University of Michigan student who is from China and not a U.S. citizen allegedly voted Sunday in Ann Arbor and is being charged with two crimes, six days before a pivotal presidential election. The filing of the charges was revealed Wednesday in a statement from Michigan Secretary of State Jocelyn Benson's office and the Washtenaw County Prosecutor's office. The press release didn't identify the student but described him only as "a non-U.S. citizen." The 19-year-old individual from China was legally present in the United States but not a citizen, which meant he couldn't legally cast a ballot, according to information from the Michigan Secretary of State's office. He registered to vote on Sunday using his UM student identification and other documentation establishing residency in Ann Arbor, he signed a document identifying himself as a U.S. citizen and his ballot was entered into a tabulator, according to the Secretary of State's office.*** The person is being charged with perjury — making a false statement on an affidavit for the purpose of securing voter registration — and being an unauthorized elector who attempted to vote. The latter allegation is a felony punishable by up to four years behind bars and a fine of up to $2,000, according to Michigan law. The standard penalty for perjury in Michigan is 15 years in prison, but it's unclear what it would be in this case involving lying on an application to vote.  https://www.detroitnews.com/story/news/politics/elections/2024/10/30/chinese-university-of-michigan-college-student-voted-presidential-election-michigan-china-benson/75936701007/

***

women behind bars

Inmates in Minnesota's sole women's prison report feeling "scared" and "traumatized" by the presence of transgender women in their living quarters – a situation that arose after Gov. Tim Walz's endorsement of a controversial "sue and settlement" arrangement with a left-wing organization last year. Rebeca Warmbo, a former inmate at the Women's Correctional Facility in Shakopee, who spent more than a decade in and out of prison on drug and robbery charges, now considers herself an advocate for her friends still behind bars. Warmbo, 50, keeps in regular contact with several women, who've written to her about their experiences ever since the trans inmates were transferred in. "They're in fear, and they're scared all the time, and they feel traumatized," Warmbo told Fox News Digital. "Because [some of] these men are sex offenders, and a lot of the women in there have been abused or had sex offenses done against them."***

***

Bari Weiss's crew -

Investigators found the phrase Free Gaza scrawled on the explosives used to set fire to two ballot boxes in Washington and Oregon. Hundreds of ballots were destroyed in the arson attacks, most of which were in Vancouver, Washington where there is now 24/7 monitoring of the drop boxes. A third, undetonated explosive was found in Vancouver with the words Free Gaza and Free Palestine. Authorities in the two states—both of which rely fully on mail-in or drop-box voting—“have not yet determined the motive” of the attack. With those notes left behind, it’s definitely a tough case to crack.

***

Rioting b/c they won?

Los Angeles descended into chaos Wednesday night as belligerent baseball fans set a bus on fire while others clashed with cops and looters ran amok following the Dodgers’ World Series victory. The Los Angeles Police Department shared footage of a mob of looters running in and out of a boarded-up Nike store carrying merchandise and throwing it into cars parked outside the store about four miles from Dodger Stadium just after 11 p.m. The LAPD said it was “aware of the looting” and has made arrests but did not disclose how many suspects were taken into custody.***

[isaacapatow]

"Well, seeing as I've been the one on the receiving end of your needle when you're stitching me up -- coulda fooled me, Doc." But Ike didn't press the point. Renee could revise history however she wanted to ease her conscience, or feel self-righteous, or whatever her deal was. They'd never be high on each other's list of favoured people, and Ike was fine with that and fairly certain Renee was too. Although the matter of the hole sure didn't help things.

But it would be worse if Renee knew that it was Mayra who'd found it and had kept it secret for, god -- how long? Weeks? Months, even? Ike hadn't asked her, which seemed like it would sound almost worse than Mayra using the hole in the first place. She wasn't responsible for Redwood the way that Ike was.

Renee was searching his face, trying to eke out some kind of meaning, and Ike hoped she didn't know him well enough to be able to tell that he had angled his story in a way that kept the most important part quiet. And he felt genuine relief when it seemed that Renee accepted his story (with some underlying guilt for lying to her, but between Renee and Mayra ... Ike knew who he was gonna lie for).

She had more to ask him, though. Ike didn't blame her. "Believe me," Ike said, "I'm not taking it lightly. I know it was my responsibility to ... notice something beforehand. And do something about it. I was too caught up in my personal stuff and that's..." He trailed off, shaking his head, shrugging. Not an excuse, not allowed, not as important. She could take her pick.

Renee started talking about her kids and Ike sagged, a little bit; remembering sitting in the graveyard sharing some corn with Henry, finding a good rock to put on Ginny's headstone. He gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip, wishing he could assure her in some way, wishing he could put her mind at ease with something better than his constructed fibs, maybe some form of the truth--?

But then she said as a parent, and Ike's furrowed forehead smoothed out, his face turning stony along with the cold coalescing in the pit of his stomach.

"No," Ike said flatly, turning away and starting to head down the smaller backroad. "I'm not a parent like you are. I'm not a real parent, I'm a glorified sperm donor. I don't understand that at all."

He listened as Renee relented enough to tell him about her golf, sharing a tiny piece of herself, and Ike knew he was being a shithead to her when he said, "Too bad your rich daddy couldn't make everything easier for you when the walkers swept in, huh? Spirit you off somewhere to a gated community like this, all nice and safe for you and your nice heroic Andy and your sweet little kids, where you wouldn't have to deal with irresponsible assholes who're a constant pain in your ass?"

Ike nodded ahead. "The clinic's up there. We're gonna have to work fast once we get in."

“Contrary to your belief, I am not a masochist,” she said very matter-of-factly, her eyes occasionally glancing down to see where she was stepping just to make sure that they weren’t about to walk over something that could bring any unwanted attention their way. “I don’t get enjoyment in hurting you.” She heaved a soft sigh as she cast him a look out of the corner of her eye. “Now reminding you how much of a pain in the ass you can be by giving you your own, that’s a different story.”

A pain in the ass, absolutely, but no matter how much he did drive her crazy sometimes, she knew he was good for the community. Hell, he did a lot of good and always got her what she needed whenever she asked without question. The fact he mentioned that he would go into one of the more dangerous places if she absolutely needed it said a lot about the type of man that he was, but still, that stupid hole in the wall bothered her. And it probably would for the foreseeable future until it was clear that nothing bad was coming out of it. Apart from Cole, that is.

Renee was searching Ike’s face for any sort of tell. Any slight sign that maybe, just maybe he was only telling her what she wanted to hear to get her to drop it. Now, either Isaac was a good liar or Renee was bad at telling whether or not he was being less than truthful. Or, and this was the more likely option - Isaac was telling her the truth. She knew that the wall had been repaired and inspected, but still, she couldn’t help but worry for her boys. Renee was working hard to ensure that her sons were able to grow up somewhere safe and that hole in the wall was just a painful reminder that even the most safest of places were vulnerable.

A heavy sigh fell from her lips and her shoulders slackened as she pushed all of the oxygen out of her lungs. Although his tone was void of any real emotion when he apologized, it was still an apology, and even the perfect person made mistakes. “Just….next time, mention something when you notice it?” she asked, her voice a bit more pleading this time.

She could just leave it at that and maybe Isaac didn’t care, but she felt like she needed to at least explain to him why it bothered her so much. “There were two things that went through my head when you mentioned the hole - that someone had made it to attack us and my boys were in danger or Oliver or Henry finding it and sneaking out and getting eaten by the Infected. Oliver and Henry are all that I have left and I can’t lose them, Isaac. As a parent, you can understand that, right?”

Renee bit the inside of her cheek for a moment before starting to walk again. “For the record, Andy and I only played golf once. My dad was the one who was part of the ritzy golf club when I was growing up. The game is too damn boring.”