#Speakerphone Conference

[headsetsindia]

Choosing the Best Speaker Phones for Your Conference Needs

Whether you’re conducting a meeting from the office or working remotely, having the right tools can make all the difference. Speaker phones are at the forefront of communication technology, providing a seamless way to stay connected with teams, clients, and partners.

Why Speaker Phones Are Essential for Conferences

Speaker phones are designed to offer hands-free communication, making them perfect for conference calls. These devices come equipped with advanced technology, such as noise-canceling microphones and high-definition audio output, ensuring crystal-clear conversations. With a good speakerphone, there’s no need to worry about background noise or muffled voices, making it ideal for both small meetings and large conference rooms.

Benefits of a Speakerphone Conference Setup

When setting up a speakerphone conference, having a reliable speakerphone is critical. These devices allow for:

Clear audio quality: The high-quality sound ensures that all participants can hear and be heard without interruptions.

Hands-free operation: Allowing participants to engage in the conversation without the need to hold a device.

Multiple connections: Many speaker phones support multiple call connections, so you can easily bring in different participants from various locations.

Wireless options: Some modern speaker phones come with Bluetooth or USB connectivity, making them compatible with laptops, smartphones, and other devices.

Choosing the Right Speakerphone for Your Conference

When selecting a speaker phone for your conference setup, consider factors such as audio quality, microphone range, and ease of connectivity. A speakerphone with a wide pickup range will ensure that everyone in the room can contribute to the conversation, while wireless options offer flexibility in setting up your meeting space.

For businesses in India, investing in high-quality speaker phones can make a significant difference in communication efficiency. Headsets India offers a range of top-notch speakerphone solutions designed to meet the needs of any business, ensuring smooth and productive conference calls every time.

[theonlyadawong]

oh wow leon literally went straight from Pittsburgh to the white house, there was no down time at all, which makes me wonder how Patrick knew he was part of the team that stopped the terrorists?

[gf2bellamy]

omgg could i request bubbly reader whos always smiling and giggling but one day an officer (or whoever) says shes being unprofessional and too much and it makes her so so sad so she tones it down and spencer is so upset seeing her like this bc shes the light of his life

-🦨

light — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: sunshine!reader feels insecure abt herself, mention of officer saying she's being unprofessional a/n: hii 🦨 !! hope this is what you asked for <3

"Morning." Your voice was quieter than usual, your smile smaller—just a polite curve of your lips rather than the bright, beaming grin the team was used to. You walked into the conference room, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you took your usual seat.

Morgan and Emily immediately exchanged a glance.

Normally, your entrance was impossible to miss—an enthusiastic, cheerful “Good morning!” ringing through the air, maybe even a playful comment about someone’s coffee choice or how exhausted everyone looked.

“Morning, sunshine.” Morgan’s voice was gentler than usual. “You good?”

You nodded quickly, forcing another smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Thanks, Derek.” The words felt rehearsed, like a line you had practiced just to avoid further questions. You glanced up at him for only a second before lowering your gaze to the table.

Emily’s frown deepened as she studied you, before cutting her eyes to Morgan again. Neither of them were buying it.

The door opened, and Spencer walked in, carrying two coffees.

He placed one in front of you like he always did—a silent little tradition between the two of you. Normally, this would earn him that smile, the one that made his heart stutter in his chest. The one that felt like warmth on the coldest days.

You would’ve reached for his hand—his hand, the one no one else was allowed to touch—and squeezed it, your fingers lingering just a little too long, just like they always did.

But today?

“Thanks,” you mumbled, barely looking up. You wrapped your hands around the cup, but nothing more. No smile. No touch.

Spencer’s spine went rigid. His fingers twitched at his sides as he stood there, processing, waiting—hoping—for a second longer than necessary. When nothing else came, he hesitated before reluctantly taking his own seat.

Emily and Morgan’s eyes were already on him when he looked up, their silent concern mirroring his own. He swallowed hard.

Something was wrong.

But it just got worse from there.

When Garcia called, her voice bubbled through the speakerphone, laced with her usual flair. "Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite team of crime-fighting superheroes! Tell me, my loves, who needs saving today?"

Usually, you’d fire something right back—some exaggerated response about how she was the real superhero or how you were tragically in need of her brilliance. Instead, silence stretched for a beat too long before Rossi finally spoke up, filling the gap where your usual laughter should have been.

At that moment, even Hotch—who rarely indulged in team gossip—glanced at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual. A whole five seconds in Hotchner time. That was basically a siren blaring that something was wrong.

Your usual energy, the lightness that kept them all going, was gone. Every word you spoke was muted, every sentence clipped.

You kept your gaze trained on files, your hands fidgeting with the corner of the page, and when someone addressed you, your responses were polite but distant.

Spencer watched you more than he paid attention to the case briefing.

His mind ran through every possibility, every variable that could explain this drastic shift. Were you sick? Had something happened? Had someone said something?

His stomach twisted at the thought.

Spencer caught up to you just as you reached your hotel room that night. You glanced at him, surprised. The cool metal of your keycard was still in your hand when he spoke.

“Can I talk to you?” His voice was careful and concerned.

You hesitated.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was about. The stolen glances from the team, the way Spencer had been watching you all day. It was obvious. You could still avoid the conversation if you wanted to. You could brush it off, say you were tired, say you had work to do.

But a part of you knew you couldn’t do that. Not to him.

So you sighed, slipping the keycard into the slot and pushing open the door. “Yeah. Sure.”

Spencer followed you in, shutting the door behind him as you plopped down on the bed. You leaned back on your hands, crossing your legs, trying to look nonchalant—trying to make this feel like nothing.

“So,” you said, offering a weak smile, “what did you want to talk about?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He just stood there for a moment, watching you, hands fidgeting at his sides.

A beat of silence.

“You.” The word landed between you like a grenade with the pin pulled.

Spencer took a step closer, his voice dropping. “You haven’t smiled all day. You didn’t laugh at Garcia’s joke. You didn’t even—” He cut himself off, fingers flexing at his sides. “You didn’t squeeze my hand.”

The admission hung in the air, fragile and aching.

Your stomach twisted. He noticed. Of course he noticed. You looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I’m just tired.”

“That's a lie.”

Your head snapped up. Spencer was rarely so direct.

“You think I don’t know you?” he said, voice cracking. “You think I wouldn’t notice when the best part of my day just—just disappears?”

The honesty in his words punched through you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because what could you say? That some stranger’s offhand comment had unraveled you? That you’d spent the entire day replaying his words in your head like a broken record?

Unprofessional. Too much. Annoying.

Spencer took another step forward, his voice softening. “Talk to me. Please.”

Your throat tightened as you stared at him, the weight of his words pressing against your ribs.

Spencer Reid—your Spencer—was looking at you like you’d just ripped the stars from his sky.

You swallowed hard, forcing out a breath that barely made it past the knot in your chest. “It’s stupid,” you whispered.

Spencer shook his head immediately. “It’s not.”

You let out a hollow laugh, rubbing your palms over your thighs. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

His voice softened even more, barely above a breath. “And I still know it’s not stupid.”

That did it. The dam cracked, then crumbled, then completely shattered.

“Someone—someone said I was too much.” You exhaled shakily, finally putting the ugly truth into the open. “That I was being unprofessional—that I need to tone it down because I laugh too much, because I smile too much, because I don’t act like—” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your fists against the overwhelming sting in your eyes. “Like I belong here.”

Spencer inhaled sharply. You finally met his gaze and all you saw as fury. Not at you, never at you—but at the words that had managed to dull your light.

He took another step closer. His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if you’d let him.

“Who?” His voice was controlled, but barely.

You shook your head quickly. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me.”

God. Why did he have to care so much? Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were something precious, something irreplaceable, something he wasn’t willing to lose to someone else’s careless words?

You chewed on your bottom lip, shaking your head again. “It’s not like he was wrong, Spence.” You forced a smile, but even you could feel how empty it was. “I am a lot. And maybe I do need to—”

“Don’t.” The word was firm. Gentle, but unyielding.

Spencer exhaled slowly, like he was trying to steady himself. “You are not too much,” he said, each syllable deliberate. “And whoever made you think that doesn’t understand what this team—what I—would be without you.”

Your breath hitched, tears threatening to spill over.

“You make things better.” His voice cracked, and it nearly shattered you. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you walk into a room and not light it up?” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “It—it hurts.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You swiped at it quickly, but Spencer had already seen.

And that was when he finally moved.

Slowly, carefully, he reached for your hand. His fingers, warm and steady, curled around yours—just like they always did. The same comforting touch you’d given him a hundred times before.

Except this time, he was the one holding you together.

“Please don’t dim yourself because of someone who doesn’t understand how lucky they are to know you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched. Your lip quivered.

Spencer slowly let go of your hand, his warmth lingering even as his fingers slipped away. He didn’t move far, though. Instead, he lowered himself in front of you.

His hand hesitated just inches from your face, his breath uneven. “Can I?” he asked softly, his fingertips ghosting near your cheek.

You swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod.

Spencer wiped away the tear with a touch so gentle it made your chest ache. But his hand didn’t drop. It hovered there, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of him.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His thumb traced just beneath your eye, barely skimming your skin, as if he could erase not just the tear but the weight of everything that had led to it.

His voice, when it came, was a whisper—rough around the edges.

“Whoever said that to you… they don’t know you. Not the way I do.”

You exhaled shakily, blinking at him.

“They don’t know the way your laugh makes even the worst days bearable.” His thumb barely moved, brushing against your cheekbone. “They don’t know how your energy—your light—makes all of us better. How it makes me better.”

A fresh tear slipped free. Spencer caught it before it could fall.

His other hand lifted then, resting gently on your knee. Another silent plea for you to believe him.

“I don’t want you to change.” His voice cracked.

You bit your lip, trying to keep the emotion at bay, but it was useless. His words—his kindness—were unraveling you.

Spencer inhaled sharply, like he was gathering courage, and then—so quietly you almost didn’t hear it—

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your breath hitched. A teary-eyed smile broke across your face before you could stop it. And then—without thinking, without hesitating—you threw yourself into his arms.

Spencer barely had time to brace himself, but to your luck, he held firm, his balance steady despite the force of your embrace. His arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you close.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, your voice muffled.

Spencer let out a breath. His hand moved in slow, soothing strokes along your back.

When you finally pulled back, you sniffled, brushing away the last few stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. Spencer watched you, his expression impossibly soft, his own smile small but so incredibly fond.

You inhaled deeply, gathering yourself before flashing him a gentle smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back tomorrow—back to being the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Spencer’s ears went bright red. He opened his mouth—whether to protest or agree, you weren’t sure—but all that came out was a flustered little laugh as he ducked his head.

The next morning, Spencer was already waiting for you when you stepped into the conference room.

Two coffees sat on the table—one in front of his usual seat, the other carefully placed at yours.

You bit back a smile.

Spencer was flipping through a case file, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

“Good morning, everyone!” you greeted, voice bright and chipper, just like always.

Morgan and Emily—who had clearly been watching you like hawks since yesterday—immediately exchanged a look before turning back to you.

“There she is,” Morgan grinned, arms crossing over his chest. “I was starting to think we’d lost our sunshine.”

You smirked. “Please. You could never get rid of me that easily.”

Garcia gasped dramatically through the speakerphone. “Oh, thank God! Do you know how hard it is being the only source of light in a room full of broody FBI agents? I almost cracked under the pressure.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the team, but you weren’t really paying attention.

Because across the table, Spencer was staring at you.

Not in the way he had yesterday, all worried and desperate to fix something he didn’t understand—but in the way he always did.

With quiet awe. With warmth. With something so soft it made your heart ache.

You sank into your chair, reaching for the coffee he’d placed in front of you. The cup was still warm, and when you took a sip, it was exactly the way you liked it.

You glanced at Spencer, eyes twinkling. When you reached under the table to squeeze his hand—just like you always did—Spencer let you.

And just like that, the warmth returned. And Spencer knew, without a doubt, he would do anything to keep it shining.

[wandascosmic]

typical tuesday night (10)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part ten of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 1796

tags: swearing, mostly just fun, one-sided pining as usual, sam being insane as usual, wanda and y/n best friendship, y/n may or may not making moves/internally screaming, they're very very cute

taglist: @reginassweetheart @rroyale-109 @marvel-posts @sheriffhaughtearp

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

“Okay, she had done a background check on me,” Bruce says. “She had it printed out.”

“No way,” you say.

“Yeah,” Bruce nods. “And she was asking me stuff line by line while we were having dinner.”

“That’s unbelievable,” you answer as everyone laughs in agreement.

Suddenly, Wanda walks into the kitchen holding a mug of tea, smiling as she walks over to stand next to you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Oh, we’re doing worst first dates,” you answer with a smile.

“Oh my god, I win,” Wanda says, eyes widened.

“What?” you laugh.

“Okay,” Wanda starts, and you look over to her curiously. “It was a minor league hockey game, he brought his brother,” she pauses. “A when I went to the bathroom, the game ended. And they forgot about me.”

“Okay, that’s a joke,” Bruce says.

“No,” Wanda shakes her head. “They had to come back for me.”

“Wait, when was this?” you ask.

“Um..it was not that long ago,” Wanda gives a small laugh.

“Wait, no way it was Vision,” Natasha says, putting down her sandwich.

Wanda laughs awkwardly before looking over to you.

You smile, walking in front of her and starting to lead her out. “Want to go play Dwight’s mug basketball?”

Wanda nods with a relieved sigh, following you out eagerly.

You keep a happy expression on your face, because now you finally know why Wanda’s always refused to go to sports games with Vision.

“Shield Industries, this is Wanda,” Wanda answers the phone.

“Wanda, it’s Tony. I need you to go into my office and read some data for me please.”

“Okay,” Wanda says, picking up the book Tony’s requested her to read in his office. “You want me to read the jokes for you?”

“Yes, please,” Tony responds on speakerphone.

“Okay, um, a fisherman is walking down 5th Avenue leading an animal behind him–”

“No, no, nope!” Tony cuts Wanda off. “I already told that joke to Fury earlier at the dinner. Pick another one.”

“Okay. There’s a transcript between a Naval ship–”

“Oh, yeah! Bingo,” Tony says. “Great, thanks, Wanda!”

“Sure,” Wanda says awkwardly. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. But would you be able to put all those joke books back where you found them?”

“Sure,” Wanda agrees, hanging up the phone with a sigh.

Opening up the drawer to return the books strewn across Tony’s desk, Wanda’s eye immediately catches a thick stack of paper. Picking it up, Wanda has to cover her mouth to stop from bursting out in laughter.

You’re mindlessly clicking your mouse when suddenly, a huge stack of stapled paper is thrown onto your desk.

Reading the title, your eyes widen as you look over to Wanda who leans against the table casually.

“Is this real?” you ask, near giddy.

“It’s a screenplay,” Wanda pauses. “Starring himself.” “Agent Iron Man,” you read out.

“Of the FBI,” Wanda finishes.

“How long is this?” you laugh, flipping through the pages. “Oh my god, Wanda. Good work.”

Wanda laughs.

“Oh, no way,” you say, finding the last few pages and holding them up. “Drawings.”

“What is that?” Wanda asks.

“Oh, those are drawings,” you respond easily. “In case the writing didn’t really put a picture in your head.”

Wanda snickers, biting her lip to keep from laughing too hard.

“And there he is, in the flesh,” you say, pointing to the drawing. “Agent Iron Man. Now we know what he looks like.”

“So, do we all have our copy of Armored Adventures, by Tony Stark?” you ask the office staff gathered around the conference room table.

Everyone makes a sound of agreement.

“Great, so, let’s get started. I’m gonna be reading the action descriptions,” you say. “And Steve, I would like you to play Captain America, the first Avenger.”

“Oh, cool that’s the name of the character?” Steve asks.

Suddenly, Sam barges into the room, and angered expression on his face. “Okay, you guys should not be doing this,” he states firmly.

“Why not, Sam?” you ask. “This is a movie. This is for all of America to enjoy.”

“You took something that does not belong to you,” he responds.

“Sam.”

“You brought it in here, you made copies–”

“Sam, do you want to play the lead role of Agent Iron Man?” you ask, giving him a questioning look.

Sam pauses.

“Okay, sure.”

“Inside the FBI, Agent Iron Man sits with his feet up at the desk,” you read. “Captain America enters.”

“Tony, you have some messages,” Steve reads.

“Not now!” Sam reads emphatically.

“They’re important,” Steve says.

“Fine, what are they?” Sam asks.

A few moments pass, when suddenly, a knock on the door is heard.

“Vision,” Wanda says, making you turn around suddenly, noticing the man.

Wanda runs up, greeting him with a kiss. “Hey, um, I have to work late,” she says.

Vision gives her an incredulous look, hearing the absurd scene between Spider-Man and Agent Iron Man currently being read in the conference room. “You’re joking, right?”

Wanda shakes her head.

“Agent Iron Man takes out a nine millimeter gun and shoots the cake to bits,” you read.

Sam imitates the shooting of the cake.

“Ha ha ha, Agent Iron Man, you’re so funny,” Peter says.

“A man sitting several seats down who has clown makeup on, turns to Agent Iron Man,” you turn to Bruce. “Bruce, want to play the Joker?”

“Sure,” Bruce nods, clearing his throat. “Agent Iron Man, perhaps you would be more comfortable in my clown car?”

“Yes, perhaps I would, Joker,” Sam says. “Spider-Man, get my luggage.”

“Sorry, I forgot it,” Peter reads.

“God, Spider-Man, you’re a terrible assistant!” Sam reads. “I can’t believe I hired you, Sem.” Sam pauses. “Wait, who’s Sem?”

You turn to Wanda with an amused smile, who matches your expression.

“I don’t think the search and replace works on typos,” Wanda says to you through a burgeoning smile.

“So, Spider-Man is the terrible assistant ‘causing the downfall of the United States?” you ask, holding back your laughter.

“Also known as Sam Wilson,” Wanda chuckles.

You and Wanda look over to Sam, who before your eyes, realizes what Tony has done, making the man throw the script onto the table in anger.

“Okay, you know what, this is stupid. I’m done,” he says, abruptly sitting up from his chair and leaving the conference room.

“Sam, some of us want to keep reading,” you tell him.

Sam turns to you. “Uh, you don’t speak for everyone, Y/N,” he responds, crossing his arms, before turning to the rest of the office. “Okay, announcement. My uncle bought me some fireworks. And anyone who wants to see a real show come outside with me right now.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” you nod, starting to sit up from your chair. “We’ll all take a brief intermission.” You turn to Wanda. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Wanda says, grateful you’ve asked.

“Yeah?” you ask. “Okay, come with me.”

While you may have had plans to meet a friend tonight, which you’ve now had to cancel, spending your evening preparing grilled cheese sandwiches for you and Wanda in the office kitchen isn’t something you’re upset at whatsoever. In fact, you would say it’s pretty great, and you’re not really a complainer either.

“Hi,” Wanda says, greeting you as you make your way up the ladder to the roof of the building, holding a box of accessories for the two of you as you watch the fireworks together.

“Hey,” you laugh, setting the box down before making your way to sit in the chair next to hers. “What’s that for?” you ask, pointing to the candle she’s attempting to light.

“For the bugs,” she answers easily.

“Nice,” you nod, before turning to grab the sandwiches you’ve prepared. “That’s great, because bugs, tend to love my famous grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Them and me both,” Wanda laughs, grabbing the plate you’ve made for her. Then, after a moment, she speaks, “I can’t remember the last time someone made me diner.”

You pause, before grabbing your sandwich from the bag as well.

“Oh, look,” Wanda points to the fireworks Sam’s beginning to light. “Wow,” you say, finally enjoying something Sam has created in the 7 years you’ve known him.

“They’re really nice,” Wanda states, before resting her head on your shoulder as the two of you spend the evening watching the sparkling lights together.

“They really are,” you say quietly.

“So, I guess I’ll see you in,” Wanda pauses to check her phone. “10 hours,” she grins.

“Mhm,” you nod, following her out the building.

“What are you gonna do with your time off?” she jokes.

“Travel,” you answer easily with a nod. “I’ve been looking forward to it.” You smile. “I’m gonna really find myself, you know?” you finish, fishing your phone out of your pocket and putting in one of your earbuds.

Wanda looks over to you curiously. “You have new music?” she asks.

You look down to your phone. “Oh, yeah! Want to listen?” You offer her the other earbud.

Wanda nods, smiling as you hand her the earbud she immediately places in her ear, the two of you standing within inches of each other as you share your song.

“Wanda,” you run up to her desk excitedly the second you walk in the next day.

“Yeah?” Wanda laughs.

“I think Tony might’ve gotten together with someone from corporate last night,” you say, making Wanda gasp. “He didn’t come back for his car.”

“Oh, my god, that makes so much sense! That’s why Tony had me read out his stupid jokes over the phone,” she says in realization.

“Well, good for him. I don’t think he’s had a first date, in like ever,” you laugh, before looking over to her. “You know, some might say we even had our first date last night,” you smile.

“Oh really?” Wanda asks. “Why might some say that?”

“Uh, ‘cause there was dinner. By candlelight,” you answer.

“Mhm,” Wanda nods.

“Dinner and a show, if you include Tony’s movie,” you continue. “There was a bit of dancing, and fireworks. So, pretty good date.” “We didn’t dance,” Wanda says, chuckling.

“You’re right,” you say, suddenly feeling very awkward as you put your hands in your pockets. “But um, it was more like, swaying.”

“Right,” Wanda says. “Pretty good first date with you.”

You perk up. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” Wanda nods. “Now, I have some faxes to get out, okay?” she says, standing up from her chair, giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading to the fax machine.

You smile, watching her leave, forgetting for a moment that it truly isn’t a date if the girl goes home to her fiancé at the end of the day.

[bennyboyfics]

gf accidentally damaging bens car hehe

Press Conference || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

A/n: also inspired by when Ben’s dad called him during a press conference lol

Wc: 374

Warnings: none!!!

MASTERLIST

-

Ben’s eyes flick down as he feels his phone buzzing insistently in his pocket. He shifts in his chair, subtly adjusting his posture as the journalist in front of him continues their question. The vibration doesn’t stop. Whoever is calling him is relentless. He exhales sharply through his nose, pulling the microphone closer.

“Uh, sorry,” he cuts in mid-question, flashing an apologetic smile to the reporters in the room. “Someone’s blowin’ up my phone right now.” A few chuckles ripple through the room. Ben pulls his phone out, glancing at the screen. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees your name lighting up the display. He immediately answers, his voice dropping into that affectionate tone he always reserves for you.

“Babe?” He leans slightly away from the mic, but the reporters can still hear him. “What’s going on?” There’s a pause, then your voice comes through, slightly panicked. “I, um… I kinda… might’ve damaged your car?” Ben’s eyes widen slightly before he lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. The journalists in the room murmur in amusement, some of them already grinning as they jot down notes.

“You what?” he asks, clearly amused but also trying to gauge how bad it is. “I swear it wasn’t my fault! Well… kinda. There was this pole, and I didn’t see it, and now there’s, like, a dent? Maybe two? And a scratch… but, um, it’s not that bad.” Ben runs a hand down his face, still smiling as he leans back in his chair. “Okay, first of all—are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine! But your car—”

“I don’t care about the car, babe,” Ben interrupts, laughing lightly. “Long as you’re good.” “So… you’re not mad?” Ben huffs, shaking his head. “Nah, not mad. Just a little shocked you decided to call me in the middle of a press conference to confess.” There’s a beat of silence. “��Oh, shit. You’re in a press conference right now?”

Ben grins, glancing at the room full of reporters, who are all watching the interaction unfold with entertained expressions. “Yup. You’re basically on speakerphone with the entire room.” A dramatic groan comes through the line. “Ben, why didn’t you tell me?! I wouldn’t have—” He laughs again, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, we’ll talk when I’m done, yeah? Love you.”

“Love you, too. Sorry about the car.” Ben hangs up and drops his phone onto the table with a smirk. He glances at the reporters, raising an eyebrow. “So… anyone wanna ask me about tennis again, or are we just gonna talk about my car now?” The room erupts in laughter.

[kimmie2me]

HEYYY I LUV UR POSTS LIKE HELLO?!?! also im sure u know abt the bakugo hc with him with him having hearing aids and is it ok of u make like a fic with him signing nasty stuff to reader cuz he can and nobody around them fully learned sign language yet? PLS AND THANK U!!! 💕💕💕

first of all, THANK YOU!! ILYSM!! second, i am BACK!!!! exams went well, i guess. i didnt PASS or FAIL, but whatever.. third, I LOVE THIS IDEA HAHAHHA!!! here is, what I think, a great welcoming back gift to give u all ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ (ignore that Kaminari's text is blue..there's no yellow. ALSO, mina is NAWT taking pink. thats OUR color now.)

Of Silence and Secrets

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pro Hero!Bakugou x AFAB!Pro Hero!Reader

…..

Bakugou Katsuki hated his hearing aids.

Hated how they fit, hated how they felt, and most of all, hated what they represented. Weakness. A crack in the armor he’d spent his entire life forging. When the ringing in his ears started as a brat in middle school, he didn’t think much of it. Just the fallout from a quirk-boosted explosion, nothing he couldn’t handle.

Years passed. The ringing grew into dull hums, muffled voices, and missed sounds. A villain’s retreating taunt he couldn’t catch. The screech of a car he didn’t hear. Kirishima shouting his name three times before Bakugou finally turned around, snarling, “What the hell do you want!?” while Kirishima just looked… worried.

His hearing aids were a damn nuisance. At least, that’s what he told himself every single day.

They whined if someone got too close, buzzed when he adjusted them wrong, and gods forbid he so much as grazed them during a fight—one hard knock, and they’d go flying. He could hear again, sure, but better hearing came at a price: realizing just how insufferably loud the world actually was. Katsuki had spent months in denial, refusing to accept that his ears, like the rest of his high-octane life, couldn’t keep up with him.

The ringing had started in his late teens, growing louder until it followed him everywhere. He blamed it on the explosions, the debris, the constant yelling—but really, he knew. His mom did too, though she’d spared him the lecture until the day Kirishima cornered him in his agency office with a sheepish grin and her voice on speakerphone.

“Katsuki.” The way she said his name—sharp, biting, and so unlike her usual bark of “Oi, you brat!”—made his stomach drop. “What if somethin’ happens? What if you miss an evac order or—hell—a cry for help? Hah? What then?”

“… Tch.” He had scowled so hard it hurt. “Fine. I’ll get the damn things.”

The intervention was humiliating, but the worst part? She was right. He hated that more than anything.

That was the first night he slept with the hearing aids sitting on the nightstand. He’d finally picked them up after a year of constant badgering—from his mom, Kirishima, hell, even that damn Deku. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear better—it was the admission that killed him.

But now? Now the stupid things were glued to him. Mostly.

The tech was incredible, of course. Damn nerds at Hero Support had outdone themselves. The hearing aids didn’t just amplify sound; they filtered it, isolating voices during chaos and syncing with comm units. They were waterproof, explosion-proof—Bakugou-proof. Allegedly.

But they weren’t indestructible. He’d broken five pairs in six months. Kaminari had nicknamed him “Break-aid” after the third replacement. Bakugou threatened to shove them where the sun didn’t shine.

And yet… they worked. Too well.

He could hear the scratch of pens during hero conferences, the obnoxious tapping of Kaminari’s foot against the table, the quiet sigh of his own breath. The worst part? The incessant talking. It was everywhere. Fans, reporters, civilians—people who thought their every word needed an audience.

Thankfully, he’d discovered the mute button.

The first time he used it, Kaminari was midway through a rant about his latest gadget. Bakugou, in a rare moment of self-control, didn’t yell. He just flicked the switch, leaned back in his chair, and smirked as Kaminari kept babbling. No explosions, no shouting, just blissful silence.

But there were downsides.

Combat was a nightmare when they broke. Shouting “HUH!?” every five seconds wasn’t exactly strategic. That’s when he decided to learn sign language. Not because anyone suggested it—hell no. But because he’d be damned if he relied on a gadget to do his job.

The process was… frustrating. Hands clumsy, movements stiff. Kirishima tried to help, but his signs were barely legible. Kaminari? Useless. Sero was too busy laughing to be much better or resorted to typing in the Notes app on his phone when it was pretty serious. Deku? That nerd had picked it up in a week, naturally.

But you? You made it bearable.

“Like this,” you’d said, your fingers forming a perfect sign. “Thumb tucked in.”

Bakugou grumbled, but copied you.

“Good. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it, ’Suki?”

Your patience annoyed him almost as much as it calmed him. And somehow, over weeks of practice, his stiff movements turned fluid. He’d never admit it, but he liked having this… language, this connection, with you.

And then he realized something else.

You understood him. Not just the signs, but him. The sharpness he couldn’t quite soften, the quiet gratitude he couldn’t voice. And better yet? No one else around him could understand a damn thing he was saying.

It started innocently enough—well, innocent by his standards.

“Bored out of my goddamn mind,” he’d signed at you during a hero conference.

You’d smirked and replied, “Same.”

But then, Bakugou being Bakugou, had an epiphany: he could sign anything.

The first time he tried it, you were sitting across from him at a formal hero banquet. The room was filled with pro heroes, reporters, and politicians. Everyone was dressed to the nines, sipping champagne and pretending the world wasn’t on fire outside.

Bakugou caught your eye and, with the most deadpan expression, signed: Wanna fuck?

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly knocked your glass over. You choked, coughing into your hand, and when someone asked if you were okay, you waved them off, avoiding his gaze.

He smirked, sipping his water like he hadn’t just propositioned you in a room full of Japan’s elite.

…..

It got worse.

During a meeting with the Hero Public Safety Commission, while a bureaucrat droned on about policy changes, Bakugou’s hands moved under the table. He made sure you were looking before signing: I’d rather have you ride me than sit here with these extras.

You froze mid-note, the pen slipping from your fingers. Your face burned as you ducked your head, pretending to scribble something in your notebook. Across the room, Kirishima noticed your sudden movement.

“Hey, you good?” he whispered.

“Fine!” you squeaked, glaring at Bakugou.

He tilted his head, feigning confusion, then casually leaned back in his chair. He looked so smug you wanted to scream.

At a press conference, surrounded by the press corps, TV cameras, and the elite of the hero world, Bakugou stood stiffly at the podium, bored out of his skull. Beside him, you shuffled the note cards you’d prepared, doing your best to stay focused on Midoriya’s answer to a question about villain reform strategies.

Bakugou glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking at how focused you looked. That only made the idea pop into his head faster. He adjusted his stance, one hand casually coming up to rub his neck as the other signed with precision:

I’d fuck you so hard over this podium, the microphones would short out.

Your brain stalled like a computer blue-screening. The cards slipped from your hands, scattering onto the stage floor. You froze in horror as a sea of reporters looked up from their notebooks.

Midoriya, ever the anxious public speaker, stopped mid-sentence. “Uh, are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah! Just... clumsy!” you stammered, dropping to your knees to collect the cards. You didn’t dare look at Bakugou, whose hand came up to his mouth as though stifling a yawn—but you knew he was hiding a smirk.

To make things worse, while you scrambled on the floor, he signed again, deliberately slower so you couldn’t miss it:

Would’ve pulled your hair too, just to hear you scream.

Your face burned so hot you were sure you’d melt through the stage.

It didn’t stop there.

At the next agency-wide meeting, Bakugou sat across from you in the conference room, arms crossed as a pro-hero you couldn't bother to listen to went on and on about new combat protocols. The room was packed with pro heroes, all seated shoulder-to-shoulder.

Bakugou, who’d already tuned out after the first ten minutes, caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow. Before you could react, his hands moved subtly under the table:

I’d eat you out on this table, right in front of everyone, and make sure you couldn’t stay quiet.

The coffee cup in your hand slipped, splashing onto your notes. You cursed under your breath, grabbing napkins to clean the mess.

Kirishima, sitting beside you, leaned over. “Whoa, you okay? You’ve been jumpy lately.”

You forced a smile, not daring to look at Bakugou, whose expression remained infuriatingly neutral. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

It became a game to him.

While Kirishima nodded and went back to his notes, Bakugou adjusted in his chair and signed again:

Bet you’d cry if I used my mouth the way I’m thinking. Probably beg me to stop—but you wouldn’t really mean it.

You slammed your pen down so hard it startled Kaminari, who glanced over with a confused look.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, refusing to look up.

Across the table, Bakugou leaned back, feigning boredom, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

It escalated during a casual outing with the crew.

Everyone had gathered at a bustling ramen joint after a long patrol, crowding into a booth that was way too small for so many people. Bakugou sat to your right, thigh pressed against yours under the table. As the conversation flowed around him, he picked up a pair of chopsticks and casually started eating.

Then, as Mina told a story about her latest villain takedown, he turned his head slightly toward you and signed with one hand:

The things I’d do to you under this table would make you scream so loud they’d kick us out.

You froze, chopsticks hovering mid-air. He didn’t even blink, slurping his noodles like he hadn’t just dropped a verbal nuke into your lap.

“What’s wrong?” Mina asked, noticing your deer-in-headlights expression.

“Uh… spicy broth,” you choked out, grabbing your water and gulping it down.

Bakugou, still chewing, glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and added another one for good measure:

Bet I could make you cum without anyone noticing. Wanna test that theory?

You almost choked on your drink, coughing so hard Kirishima patted your back in concern.

At a charity event, he raised the bar again.

The ballroom was filled with reporters, politicians, and wealthy donors, all eager to mingle with Japan’s most famous heroes. Bakugou hated these events with a burning passion, but at least you were there to make it tolerable.

You stood beside him, chatting politely with a group of businessmen, when you felt his gaze on you. Slowly, you turned your head, already dreading what was coming.

He didn’t disappoint. With the straightest face you’d ever seen, he signed:

You’d look so much better on your knees, with my cock down your throat, than in that dress.

Your hand shot out, nearly spilling your champagne as you fumbled to keep your composure. The Pro Hero you were speaking to paused mid-sentence, giving you a concerned look.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“I—I’m fine,” you stuttered, setting the glass down before you could break it.

Bakugou tilted his head innocently, signing again:

Bet you’d love it if I bent you over that balcony upstairs. Bet you’d be dripping by the time I was done.

Your jaw dropped, and you 'accidentally' kicked his shin under the table. He didn’t even flinch.

It wasn’t just formal settings, either. Bakugou would strike anywhere.

During a team training session, you were sparring with Kaminari while Bakugou watched from the sidelines. When you finally landed a clean hit, knocking Kaminari flat on his ass, Bakugou clapped slowly, catching your attention.

Wanna know what else you could knock flat? Me. On my back. With you riding me till I forget my own goddamn name.

Your sparring stance faltered, and Kaminari took the opportunity to trip you.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, offering a hand to help you up.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, shooting a glare at Bakugou, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

The worst of all came during a live broadcast.

The Hero Public Safety Commission had organized a televised Q&A with Japan’s top heroes. You sat between Bakugou and Midoriya, fielding questions from both the moderator and the live audience. Bakugou had been unusually quiet for most of the event, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded.

But then, while the moderator addressed Midoriya, Bakugou caught your attention.

His hands moved lazily, almost imperceptibly, as he signed:

After this, I’m gonna pin you to the wall in the dressing room and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here straight.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked away, heart hammering in your chest.

“And what about you?” the moderator asked, pulling your attention back to the present.

“I—I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” you stammered, cheeks flaming.

Beside you, Bakugou leaned back in his chair, smirking as the moderator repeated the question. His hands shifted again, just enough for you to catch his next message:

If you blush any harder, they’re gonna think you’re into this.

You resisted the urge to scream.

Because, for Bakugou, nothing was funnier than watching you squirm. And knowing you were the only one who could decode his filthy little secrets? That was just the icing on the cake.

…..

Over time, the signing became a secret game. A language only the two of you shared, even if it was insanely one sided. In battle, it was strategic—efficient, silent communication when words couldn’t cut through the noise. Off the field? It was something else entirely.

After a particularly grueling patrol, Bakugou flopped onto the couch beside you, tugging his hearing aids out and tossing them onto the table.

“Another shitty day,” he muttered.

You hummed in agreement, leaning against him.

Without thinking, he signed: You’re the only thing that doesn’t piss me off.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nothin’, Cupcake. Just watch the TV..”

And for once, you didn’t press.

Because sometimes, silence said enough.

[incorrectbatfam]

What Bruce and Steph headcanons do you have

Ok so Steph's not adopted but emotionally she's Bruce's daughter and they have that father-daughter dynamic where they take turns embarrassing each other

In her freshman year of college, Steph used Bette's old ID as a fake to sneak into a club where her favorite local artist was performing, and they invited her onstage to sing. Bruce turned up and dragged her home in front of a hundred people.

Also that same night, people mistook Bruce in all black for the bouncer, so before they left, he spent twenty minutes checking people's IDs.

At her first gala, Steph said "Nice wig" to a lady with an updo. It wasn't a wig. And the lady was also a very important prospective business partner.

One time Bruce misread the theater number on a movie ticket and Steph was too busy with snacks to notice, so instead of seeing the new Marvel movie, they ended up sitting through the entirety of an R-rated slasher because he didn't want to admit he fucked up and she didn't care.

When Bruce was running late to her parent-teacher conference, she told everyone he was meeting his drug dealer. He made a stop at the pharmacy.

Steph's school had a talent show that anyone could enter. So Bruce entered, performed an extended version of Bohemian Rhapsody, and won.

In the middle of a debriefing, she said, "Can we hurry this up? B said he needed to use the bat-hroom" in front of the entire Justice League.

Bruce thought he saw Steph smoking outside her school, pulled up to the curb, and told her to get in the car while all her friends were watching. It was a lollipop.

Before Bruce and Selina could go on their date, they promised Steph they'd drop her off for a sleepover at Barbara's. While in the car, she started a game of I Spy and said "I spy the Batman." Selina hadn't known Bruce's identity at that point.

Later that night, in the middle of the date, Steph called Bruce and he put her on speakerphone because he was eating, and that's how Selina and everyone else in the restaurant learned that he was wearing the same pants as the Commissioner.

[katakaluptastrophy]

An overlooked detail at the end of NTN is the fact that John is on some kind of conference call with his erstwhile CIA(?) handlers for much of the endgame.

And while it was very much a situation they could have avoided by not giving the magical death guy a nuke in exchange for Presidential Puppet Pals, you do have to feel a bit sorry for the poor bloke on the phone with John...

CIA dude who is beginning to realise they seriously fucked up: John, you seem to be having some big feelings right now, but we don't hurt people when we're having big feelings.

John, who hasn't slept in weeks and is building a barricade out of chairs while on speakerphone: Haha, Australians aren't real people! *distant burst of gunfire* Do you want some cow facts? *background screaming* Also, did you know the president's finger is on the big red button?

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Today I Do: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: Emily's past is coming at her like a freight train with no signs of slowing down, and it's getting harder to keep it from the team. You're getting suspicious not only for her but about your own troubles. Someone is trying to make it known that they're watching you.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If any warnings exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Turns out, the way that the unsub is finding her victims is through a hospital. Syracuse General. More specifically, Finley Center for Eating Disorders at Syracuse General. Molly was treated there a year ago for malnutrition because she wasn't eating, and Gail was treated for depression there. Both families released their medical records once they realized that's the connection between the two victims.

Once everyone is back inside the conference room, you call Pen and put her on speakerphone.

"Pen, both families released their daughters' medical records. Have you gotten access to those yet?"

"Yes. Both women went to the same hospital but for different programs and at different times."

"What if the unsub works at the hospital?" you say.

"Even if she conned her way into a job, I doubt she'd last long enough to get close to patient files."

"We were off on our profile, then. She doesn't find her victims by chance like we thought. She hunts them," Spencer says. "Garcia, does Syracuse General keep their surveillance footage of the entrances and exits?"

"In this age of black market pharmaceutical drug trade, you betcha. I can get you that."

Emily's phone rings and she steps out of the room to take the call. You keep one eye on her while the other is focused on the job. Even through glass walls and a door, you can feel the panic roll off Emily. She looks around to see if anyone is looking at you and catches your eye on her. She turns and finishes the conversation before coming back to the conference room, trying to hide how shaken up she is.

Penelope pulls up surveillance footage of the hospital and connects it to a screen in the conference room.

"Now, Molly and Gail had different doctors, but both went to Syracuse General pharmacy. Assuming they were stalked ten to fourteen weeks before their disappearance, I went ahead and started with footage from when they went to get refills, which falls right into that time window." The video plays and you can see Gail walking out of the place with another woman a few steps behind her. "Behold, Gail Langston, July 3rd. See that woman a few steps behind her with the large cup of coffee? Check this out." The video fast-forwards to another time Gail was there. The same woman is following behind her. "A few weeks later, there she is again. The same woman is following her. Creepy."

"She's wearing the same scarf as Gail," Ashley points out.

"Garcia, did this woman follow a similar pattern when she was stalking Molly?" Emily asks.

"Emily, you're totally ruining the ending." She shows the time Molly went there with the same woman following her. "Here's Molly and the stalker on November 8th."

"What do you know? She went shopping. They're carrying identical purses."

The video fast-forwards some more to show them leaving together but they're talking. "Then fifteen minutes later on their way out."

"So, she stalks them, copies them, and uses it to strike up a conversation."

"Here is a nice clean one of our stalker lady person."

Penelope puts her picture on the screen of her going into the pharmacy.

"Can you blow that up and print it?"

"Yeah. I'm doing it as we speak."

Once the picture was printed and sent over, Hotch got it out to news reporters as well as gave it to the Syracuse police department. Gail and Molly's families were shown the picture but no such luck there.

"Gail's family says they've never seen her before. Molly's father said the same thing. I sent the picture to Lyle's lawyer, but he says he can't find him," Derek says.

"His roommates haven't seen him since he left here yesterday," Chief Barrows says.

"Where is his car?"

"Also missing.

"Put out an APB for Lyle Donaldson and the vehicle."

He does, and a hit comes in almost immediately.

"Someone said they found Lyle's car in the same parking lot where Molly and Gail's cars were found," Barrows says twenty minutes later.

"She's got him, too. She's too obsessed with power and control to work with anyone, especially somebody like Lyle. He's dominating and violent, just like her. If anything, she sees him as a threat."

"Why take him now with all this heat?" Rossi asks.

"She's not done with Molly yet." You get Penelope on the phone again. "Pen, Dr. Weingold at Syracuse General sent us an extensive list of female patients in their mid-twenties that match our profile. She's most likely local and raised by a single parent or in foster care."

"Okay, I'm narrowing it down."

"This unsub likes familiar places. Look for extended family or previous addresses. Did any of them grow up near Onondaga Lake?" Derek asks.

"Okay, wait. Here's one that might fit. Jane Gould. Her grandparents had a house near Maple Bay, which is where Gail's body was found."

"Are they still alive?"

"No. They died when Jane was in middle school."

"Is the grandparents' house currently occupied?"

"Yes. Water and power are all paid up."

"That's the one place she got attention from a parental figure. She feels at home and in charge there," you say.

"I'll send you an address. I'm calling up her photo right now. Hold on. Oh, lord. Oh, lord. This is her. This is the creepy stalker woman from the surveillance video."

You, Spencer, Emily, and Derek hop into one car and start the drive to Jane's grandparents' house. Hotch, Rossi, and Ashley hung back at the police station but they are on the phone through the Bluetooth speaker in the car.

"So Dr. Weingold opened Jane's files. She can't release details, but she said there honestly aren't many. Jane never admitted to being a cutter, let alone what triggered it. She started acting out after she lost her grandparents."

"She was arrested for vandalism and was removed from two foster homes for destruction of property. Desperate attempts to get attention."

"Is that why she started cutting, another cry for help?" Emily asks.

"Cutting is about control, similar to anorexia. It's common for teenage girls who feel like they have no control over their lives," Ashley informs. "Her grandparents' deaths were probably the trigger. The loss of parental figures at such a young age turns your world upside down. There's a lot of pain, but no outlet. No one's in charge."

"I bet both Molly and Gail can relate to that. Jane used them to convince herself that she was important," you say.

"More than that, she thinks she's a selfless savior instead of an orphan that no one claimed."

The only thing surrounding you are trees but you feel something tugging at you. An invisible force. Panic and fear. Molly. She's out here and she's scared. Either Jane got to her or she is running for her life. Either way, you have to get to her fast. Derek gets to the house and everyone rushes inside, but you stay outside. Spencer is about to follow when he notices you are still by the car.

"What's wrong?"

"She's not in there. Molly isn't either. They both left."

You can see it through their energies. Two blue. One terrified. The other angry. Both of them shooting out from the house in the direction of Onondaga Lake. The only thing they find inside the house is Lyle who is dead, but he's still warm which means Jane must have killed him not that long ago.

"He's not cold yet, so we may have just missed her," Derek says.

"After a confrontation like that, she'll want to go someplace familiar, someplace she feels in control. Onondaga Lake. She's there right now. Let Hotch know."

Onondaga Lake is two minutes from the house so you will have time to get to Molly and Jane before Jane kills her. Derek pulls up on the bridge, and you see Jane holding a knocked-out Molly in her arms like a baby with a screwdriver to her chest.

"Keep her busy," you say before running off.

You make sure you're not seen by Jane even though she isn't paying attention to her surroundings.

"Jane Gould! FBI! Let her go! Move away from the girl and get your hands above your head," Emily shouts at her from the bridge.

"She'll drown if I let go!"

"No, she won't. Move away now!"

You try to quiet your steps until you're at the water's edge. You move quickly knowing Jane will hear you wading through the water. You stop right behind her and put your gun to the back of her head.

"Stop right there." She jumps at your presence. "Drop the screwdriver and let her go."

Molly opens her eyes and she flails out of Jane's arms before swimming away as best as she can with a broken leg. You grab Jane and pull her to the water's edge where two officers are waiting to take her. You toss your gun onto the ground so it won't get wet before swimming out to Molly who is struggling to put her head above water.

"Hey, you're okay now. Come on, I got you. You're safe now."

Molly accepts your help in bringing her to the water's edge where Derek is. He helps bring Molly to the ambulance where her father is waiting.

"Dad," she cries.

"Oh, baby. There are so many things I want to tell you, so many things I want you to know. I love you so much."

"You have to understand! All I wanted to do was help her!" Jane shouts from the police car.

Having a private jet means you don't have to go through customs and wait in the long lines at the airport but by the time you were ready to head home, the jet still needed to refuel. Instead of killing time somewhere else, you decide to kill time at one of the airport bars. You haven't touched your drink since the bartender gave it to you twenty minutes ago since you're too busy thinking about Emily and Lauren.

Who is she? Why is Emily being so secretive? Why is Emily so scared? Who is she so scared of? You look up at the mirror that's behind the bar when you feel eyes on you. It's normal to feel eyes on you at the airport, but you feel a certain level of uneasiness from this set of eyes.

You turn to scan the open room but you don't see anything out of place. No one is looking at you. No one has any interest in the lone woman at the bar. Spencer is in the bathroom, Emily and Derek are getting some snacks, Hotch and Rossi are already on the jet, and Ash is looking for a souvenir to bring back to her niece.

Still, you feel eyes on you.

You turn back around and grab your drink but pause before your lips can touch the rim of the glass. Something is telling you not to drink it. The same voice that told you to follow Spencer right before he was taken by Tobias Hankel. You sniff the alcohol but nothing is out of the ordinary.

You get up and walk over to one of the small plants in the corner of the bar and pour the contents into the base of the plant. You know you shouldn't do this but you need to see something. Almost immediately, the plant shrivels up and turns brown.

Your drink was roofied even before the bartender made your drink. Your drink was never left alone from the time it was set on the counter to the time you picked it up. The bartender looks up when he sees you approach him, and he slaps his towel over his shoulder. Nothing about the bartender suggests he is the one who poisoned your drink so you don't want to accuse him of anything.

"Another refill?"

"Can I see the bottle you used to make my drink?" He looks unsure of your request so you slap more than enough money down onto the bar counter. "I'd like to buy that bottle."

"You got it. Here."

You grab the bottle and walk to another plant. You pour some of the alcohol into the base of the plant, and the same thing happens. The bottle was poisoned.

"Who do you buy your bottles from?" you ask the bartender.

"The airport, I guess," he shrugs. "I just work here."

"Double check to make sure everything you're getting is sealed tightly. If I had drank this, I would have been dead."

"Y/N." You look to the right and see Spencer with both yours and his bags. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

You throw the bottle away and decide to keep this to yourself. You've been feeling like something hasn't been right for weeks. There is nothing out of place and no one who is suspicious. Why worry Spencer when he can't do anything about it?

You grab Spencer's hand and walk with him to catch up with the rest of the team, and you take one more look over your shoulder.

No one is there.

"There's no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul." - Ella Wheeler Wilcox

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[headsetsindia]

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[mariacallous]

In Donald Trump’s first term, he reinvented many things about how the job of President was done. The strictly scheduled day of his predecessors—the rigid procession of fifteen-minute meetings, the early-morning starts—was not for him. Instead, much of his “executive time” was spent in the small dining room off the Oval Office—a place eventually made infamous by his decision to spend a large part of the afternoon of January 6, 2021, there watching a mob of his supporters storm the Capitol and refusing to do anything about it. He would sit there and watch cable television, then tweet about something he saw on TV, and then watch the coverage of his tweet. Having spent years observing that behavior, a former White House official from Trump’s first term once told me that it was as though the President looked at his job as an extended tryout for the role of Mike Teavee, the television-addicted American kid in “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” In the film, the boy jumps inside an actual television and finds himself split into millions of pieces, then shrunk into a tiny version of himself. Wonka’s Oompa Loompas stretch him back out on a taffy puller, and sing of how television turns the brain into goop.

In Trump’s case, his second term has demonstrated another thesis—that the President of the United States can spend so much of his day on camera that it is as if he were live-streaming his tenure and not merely obsessively watching it play out on TV. Hardly a day goes by when Trump does not summon the White House press pool—now handpicked by his staff rather than independently chosen by the media itself, as it was for more than a century—for an announcement, a visit with a foreign dignitary, or merely to get a few things off his chest. Sometimes, this happens multiple times in a single day. These Oval Office rambles have largely replaced the more formal press conferences in the East Room which he held during his previous term. And with no more elections to run, Trump has mostly eschewed the big rallies that were the hallmark of his campaigns, preferring to spend time at the White House or at his own private clubs in Florida and New Jersey; one analysis found that, on forty of his first hundred days—and twelve out of fourteen weekends—he spent time at his personal properties.

When he is in the White House, the trademark image of his second term has become Trump at the Resolute desk, with a rotating cast of admiring Cabinet members and other characters behind him, while he talks and talks and talks to the cameras and jostling questioners arrayed in front of him. Trump has not yet reached full dictator mode with these appearances; the late Venezuelan strongman Hugo Chávez used to have a weekly show, “Aló Presidente,” that lasted from 11 A.M. each Sunday until whenever Chávez shut up, which was often four to eight hours later. But, increasingly, they are the signature of Trump’s Presidency.

On Thursday, the press pool was summoned at 10:48 A.M. for what Trump had billed as a “very big and exciting” announcement of a new trade deal between the U.S. and the U.K. Reporters arrived to find the President already on speakerphone with the British Prime Minister, Keir Starmer. The deal, it turned out, was somewhat less than advertised—an agreement in principle, after years of talks, and with many details to be finalized. Trump is nowhere near meeting the goal of “ninety deals in ninety days” that his trade adviser promised, after the President’s threat of “reciprocal” tariffs in his April 2nd “Liberation Day” speech shocked the world economy. Still, it was something, and Trump, with all the zeal of a used-car salesman, plumped for the agreement, though he admitted it wasn’t quite done yet. “In the coming weeks, we’ll have it all very conclusive,” he vowed. His Commerce Secretary, Howard Lutnick, praised the boss as “the Closer.” “He gets deals done that we could never get done,” Lutnick said.

As Lutnick said this, I thought of Trump holding forth in the Oval Office just two days earlier, during a visit with the new Canadian Prime Minister, Mark Carney, who was elected largely on the basis of his promise to push back against Trump’s threatened trade war. With Carney at his side, Trump had called the trade agreement that he signed with Canada and Mexico during his first term merely a “transitional deal,” billing it as a convenient way to get rid of NAFTA, “the worst trade deal in the history of our country, probably in the history of the world.” Transitional? Back in 2020, when Trump signed the pact, he proclaimed it “the largest, most significant, modern, and balanced trade agreement in history.” Poor Keir Starmer. There are many words that come from Trump’s mouth, and few that he will not renounce when they are no longer convenient.

As for words on Thursday, there were a lot of them, many having little to do with Great Britain or global trade. In the course of his on-air comments, Trump talked about knowing the late Sean Connery. (That was sort of Britain-related.) He explained that he invests in golf courses only “if they’re on the ocean.” He complained, once again, about the chairman of the Federal Reserve, Jerome Powell, refusing to lower interest rates, even after Trump very nicely said he was not planning to follow through on his many threats to fire him. “He doesn’t want to do it—probably he’s not in love with me,” Trump posited. Later, and, as far as I could tell, apropos of nothing, he mocked the Senate Democratic leader, Chuck Schumer, saying that Schumer, who is Jewish, is so sympathetic toward Palestinians that he is officially becoming one; maybe, Trump said as someone—I wasn’t quite sure who—laughed raucously, there would be some sort of “ceremony” to welcome him.

Asked about a disastrous breakdown in the air-traffic-control system at Newark Airport, Trump complained about Pete Buttigieg, the Biden Administration’s Secretary of Transportation, and explained that he would soon be buying a “brand new,” “state of the art,” and “incredible” system to replace the old one. He added that he had personally given his Transportation Secretary, Sean Duffy, a crash course in how to negotiate a good deal. “I’ve given him a ten-minute lesson in buying,” Trump said, “and he’s become really good.”

Nearly an hour into his talking, Trump dropped an unexpected bit of news—that he would drop the nomination of his controversial choice to be U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia, Ed Martin, after a key Republican on the Judiciary Committee had said that he wouldn’t go along with the choice of Martin, who helped organize the Stop the Steal movement and embraced conspiracy theories about what happened on January 6th. Trump suggested that there just weren’t enough hours for him to defend Martin amid all the other important things he’s doing. “I’m only one person,” he said. “I can only lift that little phone so many times in a day.” At first, it wasn’t entirely clear that he was actually dumping Martin, but then he shook his head and indicated there was no other choice. “That’s the way it works sometimes,” he said.

By the time Trump stopped talking, at 11:53 A.M. on Thursday, it had been an hour and five minutes since the press pool had been summoned. But Trump, it turned out, was hardly done. At 12:13 P.M., the pool was called into the East Room, where Trump began another televised event, a rare joint appearance with First Lady Melania Trump, at which he bragged about “tremendous things happening on trade, the likes of which we’ve never seen before,” and, on the eve of Mother’s Day, made some eyebrow-raising observations about his own mother, who was “such an angel” but also “could be very tough,” he said, adding, “she had her tough moments, some difficult moments she had.”

Even that awkward commentary, however, was not enough to get Trump to stop for the day. After a private meeting with the golfer Tiger Woods, who is now dating his son Don, Jr.,’s ex-wife, he unexpectedly came out on the patio next to the entrance of the West Wing to talk to reporters again. The big story, it turned out, was not his deal with Great Britain but the selection of a new Pope, the Chicago-born cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, who will now be known as Leo XIV. Trump wanted a piece of the news cycle. “To have the Pope from the United States of America,” he said, “that’s a great honor.”

And so a day in the live-streamed life of Donald Trump ended as it began, with confirmation of a lesson learned many times over these past long few years: there is nothing at all for which he cannot claim credit. 

[elysynn]

The Difference a New Headset Can Make

I am on meetings a lot for my job. I've been a remote worker for almost 15 years and hybrid for several before that. So conference calls and online meetings have been a staple of my existence for twenty years. Over that time, I've used a variety of office style headsets ranging from single ear (with a headband and/or ear hook), stereo on-ear sets, stereo cup-style sets. The problem I've had with them is inevitably, when I've had days where my headset time exceeds 6 hours the risk for migraines increases exponentially. If I get multiple days in a row like that, migraines are a guarantee.

It turns out that pressure on/around/in my ears and/or the combination of the slight pressure on my skull from headband style sets is a migraine trigger for me. I'd suspected it for awhile, but it wasn't until I was out of state helping a friend take care of her dad's place while he was hospitalized that I had the opportunity to experiment. During that time, I was able to use speaker phone for all my calls. No headset whatsoever. And I had some pretty long phone sessions. No migraines. Woohoo!

Then I got home. As I said, I've been working remote for ages. My husband got sent home courtesy of COVID and hasn't been required to return to the office. Our house is not large - to accommodate two adult professionals requiring dedicated workspaces we had to convert our basement family room into two offices separated by a set of barn doors. It's serviceable, but it is not conducive for speakerphone conversations... especially when both of us are on calls. So, when I got home, back on the headset I went.

Two days of meeting hell. My poor ears. Then, my poor brain. I figured I had enough data at that point to try and find a headset alternative. Something that didn't squeeze the brainpan, and didn't sit on or in my ears, nor surround them... I'd tried a pair of bone-conducting earbuds (buds because they're were separate, not because they fit in the ear) and while they were comfortable, the mic was trash with zero noise cancellation. My team heard my kids better than they heard me. I was able to track down a headset that had nearly all the features of my office-geared Plantronics Voyager2.

Ear-squishing, skull-squeezing aside, I love the Voyager2. It just doesn't love me back.

I've been using the Shokz OpenComm2 UC headset now for almost two months. It is a bone conducting style headset with features that fit an office environment. Things like integrating with Teams/Zoom, boom mic with noise cancellation, long battery life for calls, USB dongle for more stable connections, etc. It has been life changing for me. It is so light. I get a little bit of pressure where the business part of the headphone rests against my head in front of my ears, but I can very easily adjust the location and not lose the audio fidelity. There are a couple features I wish it had, but nothing I can't work around and certainly nothing that makes me regret the switch.

Since I've switched, I have had fewer incidents of multi-day migraine attacks. When I have had migraines (since I have about 6284 triggers and can't avoid them all) I can still wear the headset and work and not feel like I'm stick in a medieval torture device. My migraines also seem to respond better to medication using this headset because I'm not constantly hammering the triggers over and over.

I wanted to share my experience with this in case there are other migraineurs out there who are stuck on headsets day in and day out and may not have considered the headset as a potential trigger. Migraines are of course not one-size-fits-all, and your experience may be different from mine. But if this helps a fellow human being... Yay!

[notyourjaem]

goodmorning ash, u ask n i deliver

toxic ceo tyun who breeds his secretary as soon as she comes to work n forces her to keep his cum inside throughout the day ;pp dont let a single drop drip down ur thighs cuz hes gonna make sure u learn to obey

OHH MY GOD AURA I saw this pretty much the second I opened my eyes this morning (at like 5:50am) and it has been marinating in my head ever since

toxic ceo tyun who fucks his secretary as soon as she gets into work, first thing in the morning. forces her to be a good girl and keep it in; otherwise she’ll be punished. punishment is usually laying her across his lap while on a conference call, on speakerphone mind you, and finger fucking her until she cries. oh—but she better not make any noise! clamps his large hand over her mouth if she makes so much as a whimper. if she’s good and does what he says, he’ll fuck her on her lunch break in his private bathroom.

goodbye I have to pretend to be normal at work now.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jordan Carney at Politico:

House Republican investigators accused President Joe Biden of engaging in “impeachable conduct” as part of a long-awaited report. It’s unlikely to change a reality the party has faced for months: They don’t have the votes to impeach him. The 291-page report released Monday by the Oversight, Judiciary and Ways and Means committees comes roughly eight months after Republicans formalized their impeachment inquiry against the president. Their sweeping investigations, largely focused on the business deals of Biden’s family members, have gone on even longer, informally starting around the time they first took the House majority in January 2023. Republicans on the committees are accusing Biden of two offenses they argue meet the bar for impeachable conduct: abuse of power and obstruction. They’re the same charges that House Democrats cited in the 2019 impeachment against then-President Donald Trump — an inquiry frequently mentioned in the House GOP report. “The Constitution’s remedy for a President’s flagrant abuse of office is clear: impeachment by the House of Representatives and removal by the Senate,” the committees write in the report, adding they are releasing the report to the House “for its evaluation and consideration of appropriate next steps.”

Even as Republicans noted on Monday that the inquiry remains ongoing, the report marks a soft end for the impeachment effort; two leading investigators told POLITICO last month that their probes had largely wrapped up. Some Judiciary Committee Republicans have pushed to hold public hearings on impeachment articles, but Chair Jim Jordan (R-Ohio) didn’t commit to that step in a recent interview, instead indicating the decision about where to go next is up to the larger conference. Not holding an impeachment vote on the House floor would constitute a historical anomaly: Every formal presidential impeachment inquiry in modern times has led to an impeachment vote — except in the case of Richard Nixon, who resigned from office before a vote could happen. It also risks irritating the party’s base, which has pushed for a quicker impeachment against the president, though that focus has since shifted to Kamala Harris.

[...] Democrats quickly declared a political victory after Republicans released the report, which stops short of directly recommending that the House take up impeachment articles. “After wasting nearly two years and millions of taxpayer dollars, House Republicans have finally given up on their wild goose chase. This failed stunt will only be remembered for how it became an embarrassment that their own members distanced themselves from as they only managed to turn up evidence that refuted their false and baseless conspiracy theories,” said Sharon Yang, a White House spokesperson.

Much of the GOP investigation, and Monday’s report, focused on business deals and money received by Hunter and James Biden, as well as Joe Biden’s handling of classified documents and the years-long federal investigation into his son. Investigators, for example, say they traced $27 million in payments to Biden family members and their associates from foreign entities. They also delved deeply into “loans” received by Hunter and James Biden, the president’s son and brother, respectively. Republicans uncovered examples of Hunter and James Biden leaning on their last name and their connection to Joe Biden to bolster their own influence. For example, some former Hunter Biden associates, in closed-door interviews, told lawmakers that Hunter Biden would put his father on speakerphone during meetings with potential business partners, though they said that the conversation was limited to pleasantries. In other instances, witnesses recalled Joe Biden stopping by dinners or lunches — but that business wasn’t discussed at those moments.

Much of Republicans’ abuse of power charge focuses on Hunter and James Biden’s business deals or loans they received, arguing that they likely wouldn’t have happened unless Joe Biden had been in office. The three Bidens, and some of their former business associates, have said repeatedly that Joe Biden was not involved in the business agreements. For their second offense, obstruction, Republicans focused on both their own sprawling investigation and the years-long federal probe into Hunter Biden. IRS whistleblowers have accused Biden administration officials of stymying the latter — allegations repeatedly rebuffed by Attorney General Merrick Garland and special counsel David Weiss. Republicans also referenced their ongoing court battle to try to force the Justice Department to hand over audio of Joe Biden’s interview with former special counsel Robert Hur, rather than just the transcripts.

House Republicans released their long-awaited report on their partisan impeachment inquiry against President Joe Biden by three different House committees: Ways and Means, Oversight, and Judiciary. The GOP, with a narrow House majority, do not have enough votes to impeach Biden.

[eric-the-bmo]

Blood and Silicon ep18: Friends of Hunter

[Summary: The chase begins! Leo tries speaking in code to Harrison. Percy and Blake take care of the Hunters.] (sorry if this is all over the place/badly-written i don't feel like reviewing this rip-) @sanguineasylum @kentuckycaverats

The coterie careens out of the parking garage! Percy loses some ground but keeps the hunters in sight; they're going quick. Blake immediately calls Leo on speakerphone and tells him to call Harrison about this- to tell him about the garage, to have the cameras wiped, and to let him know their current location. Blake says to immediately call him back afterwards, and then hangs up. Leo calls Harrison.

["Leo? I wasn't expecting you to call again so soon." "Yes, but I'm pretty sure this counts as an emergency, sir-"]

He informs Harrison that people who really don't like us were following Pauline, and now the coterie is in pursuit. He gives the location of where they left; could H take care of the cameras from the garage? Harrison clarifies that they're in active pursuit, and he seems a bit confused until Leo says one of the two men is named Hunter, and it clicks for Harrison like ah fuck, vampire hunters! He asks if the coterie needs backup, and in the background Leo hears him calling for one of his ghouls ["Kay, come over here please."].

Leo provides their current location as they turn the corner on East St Clara St to continue following the hunters; Pauline manages to keep the rest of them in sight. Blake's phone rings as Leo decides to do a conference call with both him and Harrison.

["Hey, Harry."]

Harrison wants to keep updated on their location as he tries to figure things out from here- he tells Kay to stay on the line as he leaves the room for a moment. Blake fills Kay in on what's going on as the chase continues, adding they didn't know the men were hunters at first, so they had called the cops on them. (Percy runs a red light. His car stays close to the hunters, but not too close; the coterie aims to get them further away from the city. The hunters are going west- which is further from Harrison's territory, and, closer to the Hecata's. They're trying to lose the coterie, but it's difficult with one of their tires losing air from being hit with Blake's knife earlier.)

Harrison returns, and tells Kay to head to the garage to take care of the cameras, and Kay lets Harrison know about the police; their voices fade as the two walk away from the phone for a moment.

The coterie continues to keep up with the hunters, who actually are heading towards a highway- we join them, and are now on their left. Blake gets Percy to get closer to them, and gets ready to pull out his gun to shoot the hunter driving the car. Percy suggest we light their car on fire afterwards (Harrison, still on the phone, tells them to search the car before doing that). Blake hits his mark, and the Hunter's car starts to swerve as they attempt to get off the highway- and then they crash into part of the underpass.

The coterie stops their vehicles, and Leo gives Harrison a location update, meanwhile Blake is all "hey Percy put your gun down, maybe we shouldn't shoot them again," so the Ventrue puts the safety on to potentially use it as a blunt weapon later.

Leo and Pauline start to approach the car, but Blake gets there first- the hunter in the passenger seat is shaking the other, who seems to not be doing well; his side of the car is crushed against the wall, and he's bleeding from near his collarbone. Blake goes to open the door. The hunter tries to reach for his rosary, but Blake pulls his gun out on him with Eyes of The Beast for intimidation and tells him to get out of the car.

Blake tells Leo (who'd been keeping watch) to retrieve the knife he'd thrown into the car, and goes to grapple the hunter out of the car- the second one tells the first to "go be with God," using the name Banks.

Banks reveals he still had the rosary in his hands- and the Coterie is repelled by it, allowing Banks some time to try and get the fuck outta there. He gets a head start, but Blake shoots him and is able to catch up on him. Banks calls him a monster, and Blake is all "wow, pet names already?"| ---

Meanwhile, Percival approaches the other hunter still in the car; The Venture bites his own wrist and forces the man to feed from him, despite the hunter Absolutely Not Wanting That. His wounds slightly heal. Percival asks for his name, and the hunter spits out that his name is Williams. Percy takes off Williams' ski mask- and it turns out Williams it the same priest from our territory [above the table, two of us start yelling].

["Ah- lovely to see you again, Father."] Percy asks if anyone else knows where he is, and Williams looks over at Banks (the guy looks miserable to see his associate's been caught). ---

Now having retrieved Blake's knife, Leo updates Harrison, who tells him to keep one alive. Blake takes off Banks' mask- he's in his mid 20s, with some stubble- before saying it's not personal and knocking him out. ---

Leo listens in to Percy questioning the priest: Father Williams says that this was an unexpected detour, and that others (besides Banks) knows where he had gone; the Father didn't give details to them before leaving, though.

["So, do you have a group of compadres that you do this with?" "I hate you."]

Percy denies Father Williams's request to be killed, since he still has questions for the man, and Leo leans over to murmur that their boss wants to keep one alive. Blake's bringing over Banks's unconscious body.

["How long ago did you die, boy?" Father Williams is looking at Leo.] Leo's all "Hm why do you wanna know," while trying to hide the fact he Doesn't Like this man, and as that's happening Blake begins searching Bank's body- He's disappointed to see the Hunter's shoes aren't his size. ["Hold on-" Leo looks at him. "Were you planning to steal his shoes?" Blake shrugs. "Gotta get new ones somehow." "...What size is he-" "You're all psychopaths," Williams spits out.]

Father Williams asks Blake what he gets up to, in his "my situation Sucks" kind of way, and Blake responds he gets up to all sorts of things- he'll see Williams in hell when he gets there, btw. Leo tells Blake the update to keep one and get out, and Harrison from the phone adds to search the car. As Blake continues to search Banks, he and Percy discuss on which hunter be kept alive, and how to frame this to look like a car crash; should they request a cleanup crew from Harrison, or..?

(A car passes by. Pauline's been keeping watch.)

They go back to discussing which one to keep alive. [Blake turns to Percy. "You ever had a man of god as a pet?"] Williams murmurs a prayer- Percy takes him out of the crashed car, covering his eyes with the ski mask before knocking him out in the back of Blake's jeep.

(Another car goes by, slower this time. Pauline gets nervous about it.)

Leo and Blake search the Hunters' car as Percy gets a rag from the jeep to cover in oil- the younger vampires find some guns, duct tape, zipties, gasoline, a bible, a medkit, camping supplies and flashlights, empty vials, some receipts, and makeshift bombs. Leo hands those over to Blake, who's planted Banks' body in the driver's seat.

Before Pauline heads off, Blake tells her to take the long way around to the garage he had directed to a few days ago- he reassures her it's okay, and to wait for them there.

Percy does a vampire prayer before the coterie sets it on fire from a distance: ["Father, I humbly ask that you take the offering of the blood shed tonight in the spirit that it is intended. Saint Gustav, I offer you my thanks for lending me your strength so that I may continue play the role of the diligent farmer - culling of the wolves in our midst so that our siblings may continue to flourish in the shadow of our darkest nights. May our tantamount enemies luxuriate in as many daylight hours as the Almighty afforded us."]

The car lights up, but luckily the coterie is far away enough that it doesn't send our Beasts into a complete panic, and they drive away with the priest in the back of their car. There's some sirens in the distance. Leo updates Harrison that they've got one (and Blake adds the police are on their way to the crashed car), and Harrison tells them to meet him at a place called Cohesity Inc, 2 floors down, because he'd like some more information on whatever the fuck just happened. (Blake updates Pauline and invites her to join them, if she wants; she agrees.)

Father Williams begins to regain consciousness, but he's not looking good and will probably need medical attention; Leo keeps an eye on him. Blake turns around and asks if the Father has any music preferences, but Williams is quiet, and so Margaritaville is playing on the way to Cohesity Inc- the vibe dissonance is crazy.

Percy gives Williams some more blood- not enough to up the bond, just enough to heal him a bit more. Percy notices Leo looking away and asks if he's alright- the Malk holds his hands together and says he's not a fan of bonding. -------

The coterie arrives at the meetup spot; They park near Harrison in the empty parking garage there, and Blake gives the Baron a recap of what just happened, and Percy adds that there are people who know the priest was out tonight. Harrison opens the trunk of the car so he can ask Father Williams some questions.

[Harrison puts his hand on the top of the trunk and leans over, looking the Father in the eyes. "Hi. You don't know me, and you don't need to. I don't know what's going to happen to you, except for the fact you and I are going to have a nice conversation."] Harrison says it doesn't matter if Williams doesn't want to talk (Percy notices Williams' eye twitches), and then says he wouldn't mind telling Harrison about the friends he mentioned, would he? Why was he here? Where was he planning to go after following Pauline?

Harrison is repeatedly asking these questions; Percy notices that William's heartbeat starts to get erratic, and that this is visibly taking a toll on him; The Ventrue, while largely unbothered by this, comments that Harrison should stop before he pushes the Father past his breaking point with whatever he's doing.

["Oh, they recover. They always do."]

Blake and Leo are visibly creeped out by this whole thing.

Harrison mentions he might have better luck with Williams tomorrow, and the priest manages to swear at him. Harrison laughs- It's a cold laugh, with hints of a businessman and something more sinister, and he closes the trunk. He says he made the right choice giving the territory to the coterie, and the existence of hunters in the area has serious implications- he'll continue to interview Williams after getting him some medical attention. Blake asks if they should temporarily leave San Jose to try and get the hunters off their trail, or to stay in the city. Harrison responds that Pauline should lay low, but the rest of the coterie has just a chance of being followed either way.

He suggests they all meet back up on the 25th to discuss this matter again, but Blake says that won't work, reminding him it's Leo's first Christmas being dead. Harrison's like "oh yeah christmas exists, do you have plans??" and he's got an odd expression; he's doing his best to be genuine. Leo says he plans to visit his family- and if it helps it'll probably be the last time, and Blake's offered to go with him. They can probably be back at around the 26th or 27th.

Harrison's all "Well, it's a free country ig, anyway Leo did you think about the fact you might just lead vampire hunters directly to your family?" and Leo did Not, in fact, consider that, but tbh Harrison doesn't really care what he does as long as they can meet back up in a few days to discuss what he finds out from Williams.

Going back to that (as Pauline finally arrives), Harrison and Blake go over what was found in the car, and the Baron can make further arrangements to deal with all of it while the coterie is at Leo's home city.

Notes/Commentary:

Leo Was in fact speaking in little codes the whole time (friends of hunter, bonfires, taking a friend home, etc) but i didnt want to type all that tbh

Kay my beloved!!!! Leo is IMMEDIATELY concerned about them if anything bad happens to them I'll b so upset

Confirmed by ST that Williams asked Leo that vampire question bc he had a cross necklace!!!

I should mention during all of Leo's relays and requests Harrison was The Most Confused i've ever heard him. amazing

Props to Percy's player for making up an entire prayer?? So cool of them

Items from Banks: rosary beads, bible, vial of some liquid, wallet with no drivers license- no phone, but does have state ID

Receipts in the car?? I should have Leo check those out later.

The ST was all "hold on how long can someone be knocked out for" but i had that info On Hand. Memorized. That's not important at all I just wanted to mention that

Hi. Leo was more anxious than normal w/ Harrison, and I think the whole time in the back of his mind he was like "did i do a good job with this"

Dear God, Harrison. Are you using Dementation or something? Terrifying (ALSO HEY HAVE YOU DONE THIS BEFORE—)

Rare Harrison W?!? In the sense he's letting my son visit his family??

WE'RE HEADED TO CHICAGO BABEY! LETS GO IM SO WORRIED FOR MY SON LMAO HES GONNA GAVE A HORRIBLE TIME THERE

If anything's happened to his family/sister im going to panic even more so than I already do in these sessions. dear god