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grantgoddard · 5 months

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Stoking the star-maker machinery behind the popular song : 1980 : Kate Bush, EMI Records & Metro Radio

“I’m SO sorry,” I grovelled to the petite musician on whose foot I had just accidentally trodden. We were stood side-by-side in the record library – my ‘office’ – of local commercial station ‘Metro Radio’ in Newcastle. Kate Bush was kindly autographing several copies of the new album she was visiting to promote, which were about to be awarded as competition prizes to listeners. She had just been interviewed live on-air by one of the station’s daytime presenters and was soon to be whisked away by car to visit yet another local station somewhere across the country.

I had been basking in a brief moment of hit-picking glory, feted by Bush’s record company ‘EMI Records’ for having simultaneously added two singles by singer Sheena Easton (‘Modern Girl’ and ‘9 to 5’) to the station’s ‘current hits’ playlist, the shortest list of any UK station following my radical overhaul of its music policy, guaranteeing substantial airplay for the label’s newest rising star. Relationships with record companies were always a rollercoaster ride. Months later, after I had refused to add Queen’s ‘Flash’ single to the playlist, on the grounds that it sounded more an advertising jingle than a proper song, EMI declined to offer further artist interviews and stopped supplying the station with its new releases altogether (requiring me to drive to the nearest record shop with a weekly shopping list). Bribery, blackmail and boycotts were widespread music industry practices.

After having first heard Bush’s debut single ‘Wuthering Heights’ on John Peel’s evening ‘BBC Radio One’ show two years previously, I had loved her 1978 debut album ‘The Kick Inside’ for its clever arrangements of smart songs with unexpectedly frank subject matter. I had considered the same year’s follow-up ‘Lionheart’ rather insubstantial comparatively and over-theatrical. After a two-year wait, the next album ‘Never For Ever’ was a return to form with a more diverse song list and extensive use of brand-new Fairlight sampler technology invented in 1979. Bush had visited ‘Metro Radio’ to promote this album’s release in September, after three singles extracted from it (‘Breathing’, ‘Babooshka’ and ‘Army Dreamers’) had already reached 16, 5 and 16 respectively in the UK charts.

After a further two-year wait, fourth album ‘The Dreaming’ was a revelation with songs referencing even more startling subject matter, produced in a dense soundscape that was the aural equivalent of Brion Gysin’s and William S Burroughs’ ‘cut-up’ techniques, interlacing samples, sound effects and dialogue from the Fairlight (think 1973’s analogue ‘The Dark Side Of The Moon’ on digital steroids). I have always been intrigued by its track ‘Suspended in Gaffa’ as an incredibly outspoken criticism of EMI Records on an album released by … EMI.

This was by no means the first occasion that musicians had criticised their record company within their recordings. During the 1970’s, I recall several reggae artists obliquely criticising Jamaican producer Joe Gibbs for his sharp ‘business practices’ (eventually Gibbs’ business was bankrupted after prosecution in the US for stealing songwriter royalties). Closer to home, reggae DJ ‘Prince Far I’ criticised British company ‘Charisma Records’ explicitly in his track ‘Charisma’ (credited to collective ‘Singers & Players’) after his 1981 deal to release three albums (‘Showcase In A Suitcase’, ‘Sign Of The Star’ and ‘Livity’) on its ‘PRE’ label had been soured by negligible sales. Part of its lyrics were:

“I see no idea in your place, Charisma. […] Wipe them out, Jah!”

Prince Far I also made a recording to criticise Britain’s ‘Virgin Records’ which had released three of his albums (‘Message From The King’, ‘Long Life’ and ‘Cry Tuff Dub Encounter Part 2’ in 1978-1979 on its ‘Frontline’ label), but which had then rejected a further finished album he had delivered. In a track inevitably entitled ‘Virgin’, he rapped:

“You call yourself [Richard, Virgin co-founder] Branson but I know that Branson is a pickle with no place on my plate. You call yourself [Simon, co-founder] Draper but I know draper is known to cover human bodies. You see ‘Frontline’, I see barbed wire. Opportunity to make big money. Irie, Jumbo [Vanreren, Frontline A&R manager]. I won’t forget you take the master tape and hang it up on your shelf. Music has no place in a gallery.”

This ‘lost’ album was finally released in 1998 [Pressure Sounds PSLP18], long after Prince Far I (and his wife) had been tragically murdered in Jamaica in a 1983 house break-in. In 1992, Virgin Records was acquired for a reported £560m by EMI Records which, returning to our story, had signed sixteen-year-old Kate Bush in 1975 to a four-year contract after hearing her three-song demo tape, paying a £3,000 advance. In 1976, Bush created her own company, Novercia Limited (Latin for ‘she who is new’), that she and her family alone controlled in order to manage her career and maintain the copyrights in her recordings and songs.

From the initial contract’s expiry in July 1979, Bush could finally renegotiate a replacement EMI contract which would allow Novercia to retain the copyright (instead of EMI) and henceforth lease her recordings to EMI for release. At that time, it was unusual for such a young artist to insist upon taking control of their career from their record company, particularly when it was as globally huge as EMI. Bush no longer wanted to be contractually required to do promotional tours, such as her visit to Metro Radio, and she was insisting upon complete artistic control. I imagine that these negotiations between opposing lawyers sat around expansive tables in bare conference rooms on an upper floor of EMI headquarters in Manchester Square (immortalised on The Beatles’ 1963 debut album cover photo) must have been tense and lengthy, particularly for twenty-one-year-old Bush.

Not only would these contractual back-and-forth’s have delayed the release of new recordings, but the inordinate time they must have consumed would have eaten into Bush’s ability to compose and record. During this period, Bush’s musical creativity would frustratingly have been put on hold by the ‘red tape’ of legal negotiations, alluded to in the song’s title (‘gaffa’ being a reference to ‘gaffer tape’, the all-important ‘WD40’-like fix-all of musicians in studios and on tour). At the same time, EMI was demanding to hear proof of Bush’s new material to ensure it was sufficiently commercially marketable to guarantee another 'hit' single. Her song ‘Suspended in Gaffa’ starts:

“They’ve told us that, unless we can prove that we’re doing it, we can’t have it all. EMI want it all.”

Except that the ‘E’ from ‘EMI’ must have been removed from the mix, either upon EMI lawyers’ insistence or upon the recommendation of Bush’s legal team. Only once you re-imagine that ‘E’ does the song make perfect sense in terms of record label/artist contractual disputes. The role of Bush’s lawyer in the negotiations is referred to:

“He’s gonna wrangle a way to get out of it [the initial EMI contract that had included renewal options].”

The impact of the tedious negotiations upon Bush’s creativity and the impatient EMI’s demands to hear her new songs are referenced in the chorus:

“Suddenly my feet are feet of mud. It all goes slo-mo [slow motion]. I don’t know why I’m crying. Am I suspended in gaffa [caught up in ‘red tape’]? Not ‘til I’m ready for you [EMI] can you have it all [my new recordings].”

EMI (then) managing director Bob Mercer later confirmed that Bush had burst into tears during their business meetings. The record company’s patronising response to her demands is referred to in the lines:

“… that girl in the mirror. Between you and me, she don’t stand a chance of getting anywhere at all. Not anywhere. No, not a thing. She can't have it all.”

If Bush had not successfully agreed a new contract with EMI, it might have been threatening that she would be jeopardising her future success. I had witnessed the blackmail tactics of EMI in my job at Metro Radio. The significance of concluding these negotiations successfully was imperative for Bush, and she noted the impact it would have on her finally taking total control of her destiny:

“Mother, where are the angels? I’m scared of the changes.” (Bush’s mother appears briefly in the video, comforting her.)

The key to understanding the song’s theme is to recognise that the most telltale line “EMI want it all” was sung eleven times. Record companies almost inevitably want to have their cake and eat it simultaneously, regardless of the fallout for their own artists. Why else would EMI have refused to send its new record releases to Metro Radio if it was not prepared to cut off its nose to spite its face?

If all this speculation sounds farfetched, you have to ask why EMI was happy to license ‘Suspended in Gaffa’ to its partners for release as a single in European countries, but did not similarly release the song as a single in the UK? Would its London executives want to hear a track played on the radio every day that they knew obliquely criticised their own business strategies? As a result, this excellent song languished as a little played album track in Bush’s homeland. Perhaps that was the company men’s notion of ‘revenge’.

At the time of its release in 1982, I was barely watching television so had missed the video for this song, written and directed by Bush herself. Viewing it more than forty years later, I hoped to find hidden references to ‘EMI’ in the visuals. It looks as if Bush (“wearing a designer straightjacket,” interjected my wife) has been kidnapped and locked in a boarded-up wooden shed alongside huge chains and large wheels of (the music?) industry. Outside a huge (legal?) storm is blowing, from which she cannot escape, despite kicking up dust but running nowhere. Is that what it felt like to be under contract to EMI? Bush was always far too subtle to provide explicit messaging that would explain her songs. Perhaps I am missing something she communicates via her animated hand movements? In one brief section of the video, wrists apparently bound in gaffer tape, Bush tumbles head-over-heals through the vacuum of galactic space, maybe a visualisation of her feelings in the midst of lengthy legal wranglings. Prior to that, the video portrays her 'head in the clouds’, perhaps how she had sensed her initial teenage success with EMI.

As I discovered from my own job at Metro Radio, EMI want it all. Perhaps that is why I felt I understood Bush’s message within ‘Suspended in Gaffa’ from my first listen. It remains a truly remarkable song.

#career #commercial radio #Grant Goddard #Kate Bush #local radio #Metro Radio #music #Newcastle #radio #radio industry #radio station #reggae

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sarcasmandships · 3 years

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how to save a life part 2︱spencer reid

word count: 8.7k

spencer reid x slight oc

spencer and veronica argue over him keeping their relationship from the team, but when spencer sustains a life-threatening gun shot wound it puts everything into perspective

angst + hurt/comfort with a n eventual happy ending

this is not an x reader because i hate writing y/n in place of a character name and it often forces you into writing in second person which i also hate - however I have avoided giving specific descriptions of hair/eye/skin colour, height and body shape so feel free to imagine it like an x reader

this is also heavily inspired by greys anatomy and ive taken characters from the show to be side characters, however you do not need to have watched a single episode of greys to follow the story

warnings: spencer being shot, descriptions of blood, descriptions of surgery

read part one here!

Veronica readjusted her dress for what felt like the 100th time that evening. The green, silk bodice was too restrictive; her feet ached from the stiletto heels April had picked out for her. She grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"That is for the guests!" April hissed, smacking her arm with her tiny clutch bag.

"And the hostages," Veronica said, raising her glass to an imaginary toast.

"Amen to that," Cristina agreed, taking a long sip of champagne from her own glass.

"You two are hopeless," April said, shaking her head before storming off.

"I like angry Kepner," Cristina chuckled.

"God, I can't breathe in this thing," Veronica gasped, pulling at the top of her dress again, "I think I've got a tension pneumothorax."

"Unfortunately, if I had a needle big enough to help you, I'd have stabbed myself in the eye hours ago," Cristina said, deadpan.

Veronica gave her a shaky laugh.

"Ooo, is that Kevin Gibbs?" Cristina said, suddenly filled with a burst of newfound energy as she spied a man at the next table, "oh, he is rich rich, I'm so getting a donation from him," she grinned before dashing off to take Kevin Gibbs' arm.

Veronica rolled her eyes as she watched Cristina twirl her hair and flutter her eyelashes; she was far too good at this. Veronica was left alone at the table, tired of pretending she was interested in anything these rich, old men had to say; she pulled her phone out to scroll through Twitter.

However, as she unlocked it, Spencer's name popped up on her screen, and her shrill ringtone cut through the low-level chatter and ambient music in the room. She hastily switched the phone to silent after receiving a few pointed glares but continued to stare blankly at the screen as it rang.

She did not want to speak to him.

But she had told him to keep in touch.

Via text, not a phone call.

But what if something was wrong.

Eventually, she clicked 'accept'.

"Spencer, I told you-"

"Hi, Veronica," the voice on the other end cracked, "it's Derek Morgan. We met earlier today..."

Veronica's blood ran cold as Derek spoke to her through the phone. She could hear the piercing wail of the sirens; it harmonised with Cristina's shrill laughter as she flirted with Kevin at the next table.

Blood was pounding in her ears. Her entire body was in free fall like she was being hurled down the drop of a rollercoaster that seemed to never end.

"... they're taking him to Stafford Grace Mercy West Hospital, meet us there when you can - I gotta go."

Derek hung up the phone.

Veronica stood frozen, her body trembling and mind spinning.

"Veronica!" Jackson snapped as he strutted towards her, "you're supposed to be getting donations, not standing in a corner drinking all the champagne…."

Veronica was staring straight at Jackson's face as he ranted, but she couldn't focus her eyes enough to see his furrowed brows or flared nostrils. Her mind was spinning at hyper speed, but everything around her moved in slow motion; she gripped onto the edge of the table.

"…are you even listening to me?" he snapped his fingers in front of Veronica's glazed eyes.

"Spencer was shot. In the chest, he's on the way to the hospital now," she said in a monotone, "I have to...I have to go...I..." Veronica clutched her head in her hands; the room would not stop spinning.

"Oh my god," Jackson gulped, "of course, go, go. Do you want me to come?"

Veronica stumbled away from him and towards the door. Why was the floor moving like that?

"No," she called back to him, "this is your event you can't leave, I just- I need to go," she turned on her heel and dashed out of the door.

The hospital was just up the street. Jackson had picked a venue close by so the doctors who didn't have the day off could get there quickly after work. Veronica pushed people out of the way as she staggered up the street; her feet didn't hurt anymore. Her whole body was just pins and needles.

She burst through the doors of the ER, in her floor-length, green dress and dazzling emerald necklace, with tears streaming down her face. Sections of her neatly pinned hair had broken free; she clutched her chest as she gasped for air. It was only a matter of time before someone called for a psychiatric consult.

With most of the other attendings at the gala, the interns and residents had swarmed like locusts to get their hands on a surgical case. Veronica pushed through the sea people, looking for someone she knew – why did all the residents look the same?

Veronica scanned the trauma rooms, hoping to catch sight of his messy hair. They were full of bloodied and beaten-up people, but none of them were Spencer. She had just stumbled through the double doors to the waiting area when she heard someone call her name.

"Veronica?"

She whipped her head around to see Derek Morgan standing in front of her. Several steps behind him, she noticed Penelope Garcia, who she recognised from this morning, and several other anxious FBI agents.

"Derek," she gasped, gripping onto his outreached hands, allowing herself to stabilise slightly, "w-what happened?"

"We were chasing down the unsub and Reid...he fell and just when he was getting back up, he got hit. It was bad luck. It caught him just above his vest."

"And he's in surgery now? I didn't see him in any of the trauma rooms?"

"They just took him up; come with us. You need to sit down," he said kindly, and Veronica allowed him to guide her over to the seats.

"Hi again," Garcia squeaked, but Veronica stared straight ahead and didn't answer her.

The others tried to introduce themselves, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. They were names she knew well from Spencer's last night rants about work, but she couldn't bring herself to look at any of them long enough to put a face to the name. Derek was trying to reassure her when Veronica caught sight of a familiar resident walking past with a tablet in her hand.

"Murphy!" she barked, "get over here."

Murphy's head snapped up, and she looked around rapidly to see where the voice had come from; when her eyes finally landed on Veronica, she looked at her quizzically but shuffled over.

"Dr Grey, I thought you were at the gala-"

"I need you to look up a patient for me, Spencer Reid - came in with a GSW to the chest and should be in surgery now."

"Dr Grey, what's going on?" Murphy said slowly, her eyes darting between Veronica and the team of agents behind her.

"Just do it, Murphy!" she ordered, and Spencer's teammates looked slightly taken aback.

"Okay, okay!" she said, typing rapidly on her tablet, "he's in surgery with Dr Hunt and Dr Altman for an exploratory thoracotomy...chest x-ray showed a GSW to the chest with the bullet lodged near the thoracic aorta...he was tachycardic and hypotensive when he came in, with substantial blood loss-"

Bile bubbled up in her throat, "what OR are they in?"

"Dr Grey, I can't-"

"What O.R, Murphy?" she snapped; she gripped the edge of the plastic chair to prevent herself from strangling the resident.

"OR one!"

"Okay... OR one. OR one has a gallery," Veronica mumbled to herself, she tapped her foot against the floor and her stiletto clacked against the linoleum.

"Dr Grey, you know you can't go up there when you aren't working-"

"Murphy, do you want a medical career?"

"Y-yes," she stammered.

"Then you'll get out of my way before I have the AMA strip your medical license," Veronica snapped; she stood up and gathered up the skirt of her dress as she began to power walk towards the elevator.

"Wait, where are you going?" Derek called after her.

"Spencer's in OR one, that OR has a viewing gallery... I'm going to watch his surgery," she said flatly before turning away and continuing along the hallway.

It wasn't until she was in the elevator and ready to push the OR floor button that she realised that Spencer's team was directly behind her.

"What are you guys doing?" she sighed as they piled into the elevator after her.

"He's one of us. We aren't gonna hang around a waiting room if we can be there with him," the blonde woman that Veronica thought was called Jennifer, retorted.

She was ready to argue. To protest that they weren't allowed in the gallery, that surgery wasn't for the faint-hearted. But then she looked at all their faces, desperate and distressed; they looked how she felt.

So, she closed her mouth and jabbed the button for the fifth floor.

The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the fifth floor. It stopped on three, and a huddle of surgical interns tried to cram in, but Veronica snapped at them before they had the chance.

"No. You get the next one," she glowered at them, and they could only give her nervous stammers and shaky head nods in response.

Veronica rolled her eyes at them as the doors crept shut again, with her arms folded tightly across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor.

"You seem to have a lot of authority here," Hotch commented.

"I'm an attending," she said bluntly, "they're interns - bottom of the surgical food chain, their only job is to stay out of our way and try not to kill anyone."

"That seems...harsh," Garcia whispered to Derek.

Veronica whipped her head around, "a hospital like this doesn't work without a hierarchy; it's how we learn. If we don't treat them that way, then they get too confident. Would you rather have an intern perform Spencer's exploratory thoracotomy or two surgeons with years of experience who are chiefs of their respective departments?"

Garcia gaped at her, but the elevator doors creaked open, saving her from trying to respond to Veronica's scathing comment.

"The gallery is this way," Veronica grunted under her breath as she exited the elevator and crept up a short flight of stairs.

"That wasn't very nice; Garcia was only making an observation," JJ whispered to Emily as they followed Veronica.

"Who is this woman?" Emily responded, equally as confused as to why they were following this random woman around a hospital.

Derek turned round to face them, "she's Spencer's girlfriend-"

"Girlfriend!" Emily gasped, "did he ever mention a girlfriend to any of you?" she asked, looking between JJ and Derek.

"No, not once…." JJ frowned.

"He didn't tell me as much as he was forced to, that's why he's been acting so off recently, but I couldn't really get many details from him about her, so don't ask me anything - she's just worried about him like we are, she's on edge too."

Veronica burst into the gallery, which was thankfully empty. She pressed her forehead up against the viewing window and saw Spencer lying on the table. The glass was cool against her forehead, which seemed to somewhat soothe her pounding headache.

Spencer's face was draped, she couldn't see his eyes, but she could see his half of his rib cage. That unsettled her; she wasn't supposed to be able to see into her boyfriend's chest cavity. Veronica clung to the glass as she staggered to the intercom on the wall; she pushed the button that allowed them to hear what was being said in the OR.

"... there's a lot of bleeding here, more suction!" Dr Altman demanded.

"Right away, doctor."

Veronica flicked the switch that allowed her to be heard in the OR, "Owen," she said slowly, and he looked up at her in shock, "I need you to save him."

"Veronica, you're supposed to be at the fundraiser. What are you doing here?"

"Owen, listen to me," she pleaded, her voice cracking, "I need you to save him."

"Well, of course, I'm gonna try and save him, Veronica I don't understand-"

"Oh god," Dr Altman said as she suddenly realised what was happening, "Spencer Reid... he's your Spencer. I met him at Owen and Cristina's wedding; we talked so much about the Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction I thought he was a surgeon too…."

Veronica nodded silently.

Her Spencer.

She couldn't control the sob that wracked her body. She was vaguely aware of Garcia placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, so I need you to save him," she sniffed, "because if he dies, I will literally go out of my fucking mind, and I won't be much of a neurosurgeon from the psych floor."

"Veronica, you should be up here," Owen said as he forced another clamp into Spencer's chest, "how did you even know where he was?"

"Murphy told me," she said, "but it wasn't her fault, so don't go and yell at her; I told her I'd have her medical licence taken away."

Owen paused, "you can't do that, though."

"She doesn't know that! Please just save him. I need you to save him."

"I-" Dr Altman hesitated, "we'll do everything we can, V, I promise you."

"Thank you, Teddy," she whispered through her tears; she flicked the button off again so they wouldn't be distracted by her sobs.

Veronica collapsed into a chair in the middle of the front row and kicked her heels off. Spencer's team had shuffled into the rows behind her and sat, whispering quietly among themselves and clutching onto each other.

"V-veronica," Garcia finally spoke after around an hour of near silence, "I know you're a different kind of doctor, but what are they doing? I don't understand any of these medical terms. Can you explain it?"

Veronica twisted slowly in her seat to face her, revealing her mascara coated cheeks and puffy eyes. She nodded slowly.

"They're doing a surgery called an exploratory thoracotomy; they're trying to remove all the bullet fragments from his chest cavity. Their main concern is that the bullet hit very close to the thoracic aorta, which is a major vessel that carries blood from the heart to the rest of the body."

"B-but it didn't hit his aorta, so that's good, right?"

"Right, cos' if it had, then he'd have bled out seconds after he was hit," Veronica paused to swallow the vomit creeping up her throat as she imagined Spencer's bloodless body lying in the morgue, "but the impact of the bullet creates shock waves when it enters the body. Considering the proximity to the thoracic aorta, it could weaken it and cause an aortic dissection."

"And that's bad?"

Veronica nodded gravely, "they're almost always fatal, the blood loss becomes too uncontrollable, and even the best surgeons, like Dr Altman and Dr Hunt, can't do anything," she turned back around to face the OR as a fresh set of tears threatened to spill over.

"Oh," was all Garcia could muster up.

"Those doctors, are they really the best?" Emily asked.

Veronica nodded, "Owen, Dr Hunt is head of trauma surgery, and Teddy, Dr Altman, is head of cardiothoracic surgery. They served together in Iraq; they've put soldiers half blown apart by bombs back together, if anyone can save Spencer - it's them," she reassured.

"Good to know..." Emily said in uncertainty, wrapping a comforting arm around JJ, who was silently sobbing into a tissue.

"What you need to understand is that every GSW is different, which is what makes them so difficult to fix, and when a bullet enters the body, it not only tears through structures, but the transfer of kinetic energy can cause damage to nearby tissues, like what I was saying about his thoracic aorta," she explained slowly, "that's why GSWs are so dangerous because the damaged area can ripple out around the entry wound."

"But you think he'll be okay, right?" JJ sniffed.

Veronica hesitated; she glanced back at Spencer's motionless body on the table. Her eyes scanning the monitors he was hooked up to, the constant stream of O neg he was being replenished with, the rip spreaders and clamps in his chest…

She felt sick again and had to turn away.

"I don't know. He hasn't been in surgery very long… it's just too early to say."

"There isn't anything more we can do for him now," Hotch spoke gravely, "he's in the hands of the people who are best trained to help him; we just need to trust that they are doing everything they can to save him."

Hotch's words had a sense of finality, and the room fell close to silent again with only Veronica, Garcia and JJ's sniffles and sobs echoing around the dimly lit room. Derek help Garcia's hand tightly in his own, JJ rested her head on Emily's shoulder, Hotch and Rossi sat next to each other, their faces stoic and stony. Veronica sat alone, tugging at the restrictive bodice of her dress every few seconds.

They sat like that for at least another two hours.

Suddenly, the monitors attached to Spencer began beeping rapidly, Veronica's heart seized, and she jumped to her feet to get a better view.

"What's happening to him?" Garcia whimpered; she clung onto Derek's arm as he also stood up and strained his neck to see.

"He's in DIC!" Teddy's voice echoed through the intercom, "push heparin," she ordered.

"Veronica, what's going on?" Derek asked; he tried to keep his voice steady, but it wavered slightly.

"He's in DIC, disseminated intravascular coagulation - it means that proteins in the blood that cause clotting go into overdrive, which actually causes excessive bleeding. If they don't control the blood loss, it's fatal."

"Lap pads! And more suction! I can't see a thing," Owen demanded as he packed Spencer's chest cavity to absorb the excess blood.

"And hang another unit of O neg, he's losing too much blood," Teddy added, "there was nothing in his medical history that indicated he was at risk of DIC...Veronica! Is he on blood thinners?"

Veronica dragged herself over to the intercom and pushed in on the button, "n-no, nothing like that, he takes zolpidem sometimes, but that wouldn't cause DIC..." she muttered.

Something clicked in her brain, and she spun round to face Derek, "you said he fell before he got shot."

Derek nodded, "that's right, the woman the unsub had abducted pushed past him to escape, and he fell down the full flight of stairs. That distracted me long enough for the unsub to get a shot in at him...."

"Teddy! He fell before he was shot, he fell down a flight of stairs, he could have a splenic injury or a laceration on the portal vein or hepatic artery- it wouldn't have been picked up on a chest x-ray. You have to do an ex-lap!"

"Veronica, we've already cracked his chest-" Owen began to protest.

"Pressures dropping, doctor!"

Veronica banged on the glass, "he'd rather be alive with two incisions than dead with one."

"Dr Hunt, you're the trauma surgeon this your call," Teddy said calmly, "but we need to do something and fast."

"We don't even know if he has a splenic injury! We can't take medical suggestions from our patient's hysterical girlfriend; that isn't how it works-"

"He's dying," Veronica wailed, "and he's going to die if you don't do something. If it were Cristina on my table, you would be begging me to do whatever it takes to save her. Teddy – you promised me you would do everything you could, and you're not doing anything! He's bleeding to death, and you aren't helping him," she sobbed against the glass.

Teddy and Owen exchanged a look.

"10 blade," Owen grimaced, and Veronica breathed a sigh of relief, "you better be right about this Grey – convert drapes for an ex-lap!"

"Oh God, I can't watch this," JJ said; she flopped back into her seat as Owen made a deep incision into Spencer's abdomen.

Despite dealing with horrific crime scenes daily, everyone else in the team had to follow JJ's lead as floods of blood gushed from the incision site. Garcia, who had screwed her eyes shut the minute the monitors started beeping, was rocking herself back and forth and mumbling under her breath.

"Okay, I need more suction! I'm seeing some damage to the hepatic artery," Teddy said, "can you ligate it from your side?"

"Yeah, I think so, clamp!"

Veronica wished she could be like Spencer's team. She wished she didn't have a medical degree; she wished she didn't know every possible thing that could go wrong from this point forward. She wished she could close her eyes or at least tear them away from the scene that would plague her nightmares for years to come.

She could hardly believe it when his pressure finally stabilised; she embraced the smile that crept onto her face as she watched the readings on the monitor slowly begin to climb up.

"You can open your eyes now; they ligated the artery and stopped the bleeding, combined with the heparin that should be enough to keep him stable for now."

"For now?" JJ questioned.

"He's doing well; that injury could've been fatal, but he pulled through, and that's good; it's just that I don't want to tell you he's out of the woods when he's far from it."

"It's been hours," JJ said, "how much longer before we know if he'll be okay?"

Veronica shrugged, "probably a couple more hours; they need to make sure the wall of the thoracic aorta is strong enough before they close and remove all the bullet fragments; they need to take their time."

"You'll have to forgive us, Dr Grey," Hotch spoke quietly, "we don't have the patience for this kind of thing like you do."

"It's okay, and you can call me Veronica," she smiled nervously and picked at her nails.

This was what she'd wanted all along, to meet Spencer's team. But now, she was standing in front of them and couldn't think of a single thing to say. She had imagined this moment every night for months, but never in her wildest dreams did it go like this.

"Veronica then," he said stiffly, "so you said you're a neurosurgeon?"

"Yeah," she said, tearing her eyes away from the surgery in front of her to face him, "that's how Spencer and I met; he came to a lecture I gave on the Endoscopic Fenestration of Arachnoid Cysts Through Lateral Pontomesencephalic Membranotomy, cos' that's just the kind of things he does for fun," she snorted.

"Sounds like him," Hotch said, smiling fondly.

"I just can't believe he never told us about you," Emily commented, "and I can't believe we never figured it out; I mean, come on, guys, we're meant to be profilers."

Veronica gritted her teeth, "Yeah, me neither..."

"Veronica!" Jackson said, bursting through the door to the gallery, "I just got away from the gala; how's he doing?" he asked, rushing over to embrace her in a tight hug.

"He's stable for now; his temp has come up a lot since he got here, but he did go into DIC, and they had to convert to an ex-lap..."

"Owen and Teddy will be doing everything they can; he'll be okay."

She nodded, "I know...I just want it to be over; even if he was in the CCU, I could handle it, but he's lying open on an operating table, and I can't help him."

He rubbed circles on her back soothingly, "it'll be over soon. Can I get you anything?"

"Something to change into. I don't think I have any clothes in my locker, but just grab me some scrubs... I'd take a patient gown if it meant I could get out of this dress," she said, tugging again at the restrictive top.

"You got it," he said, breaking away from their hug, "April wanted to come and be with you, but Harriett's with the sitter and she had to-"

"Don't worry about it, just get me something to wear. I can't breathe in this thing."

"Yeah, I'm on it," he said, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, "Cristina's on her way; she'll be here soon."

Jackson shuffled out of the gallery, giving a nod and a tight-lipped smile to the others as he passed them. Veronica retook a seat.

"That was Jackson," Veronica explained, noting the confused faces of the BAU team members, "Dr Jackson Avery, he works here too, but he was stuck at the gala - we were having this fundraiser for this hospital...stupid...."

"V! I just heard; why didn't you tell me?" Cristina burst into the gallery in a similar fashion to Jackson, "I had to hear from freaking Avery that your sexy FBI boyfriend got shot?" she berated as she sat down next to Veronica.

Veronica shrugged, "Jackson was there when I got the call. You were busy turning up the charm for that rich old sleaze."

Cristina shoved her lightly, "I'll have you know that rich old sleaze donated 1.5 million dollars to this hospital," she said smugly.

"Show off," Veronica grunted, folding her arms over her chest.

Cristina stood up to peer through the glass, "supervisory sexy agent, has Owen and Teddy working on him? You need to calm down and stop chewing your nails; he'll be fine."

Veronica rolled her eyes, "you need to stop calling my boyfriend supervisory sexy agent, or you'll be the one on the table."

"Aw, come on, I'm kidding! My husband is right down there...oh my god, my husband saves your boyfriend from a GSW? That'll be such a good story for me to tell your kids."

"Can we wait to see if he makes it off the table before we start discussing our hypothetical children?"

"Boring."

Jackson returned at that moment, "sorry, I didn't know your scrub size, so I just guessed. And you didn't have any shoes in your locker, so I stole some sneakers from April, you're the same size, and she won't mind - I also brought you some of her makeup wipes," he rambled, handing her the pile of clothes.

"Stealing shoes from your ex-wife now?" Cristina teased as Jackson sat down on the other side of Veronica, "I thought pretty boy Avery was rich enough to buy his own," she cooed.

Veronica stood up and slid the scrub pants on under her dress, and pulled the scrub top over the top. Cristina unzipped her dress, and she let out a deep breath as the pressure on her rib cage was released; she shimmied the dress off and threw it over an empty chair.

"Shut up, Yang," Jackson grunted.

"Children, behave," Veronica said warningly as she slipped on the socks and shoes she was borrowing from April.

Veronica sat back down and finished wiping off the makeup that hadn't been flushed away by her tears. Jackson gripped her hand tight in his, and she smiled appreciatively at him; Cristina gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Guys, what if he dies?" she whispered as they watched Teddy and Owen work away on Spencer.

"He won't," Jackson protested, "he didn't code in the field, and the majority of GSW victims without penetrating vascular injuries survive if they get to a hospital on time."

"There is a bullet in his chest cavity! That is a penetrating injury," she blubbered.

"But it didn't directly damage his heart or any major arteries; yes, they could be weakened by force, but he's been in surgery for hours, and nothing has ruptured – plus after they close him up, we'll monitor him closely, and he will be okay," he said with a squeeze of her hand.

"Avery's right. It's far more likely he'll be a vegetable or something," Cristina shrugged.

"Yang! His best friends are right behind you," Jackson hissed.

"They are?" Cristina said, whipping her head around, "oh, hi."

Cristina gave them a wave, and they stared back dumbfounded.

"Who the hell are these people?" Emily hissed.

"I don't know, but they seem to think that Spence is gonna be okay, and that's all that matters to me," JJ answered.

"He could still die; people die from GSWs all the time. There could be complications, he could get an infection-"

"Look, Veronica, if the worst happens, then we can cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? And you know we'll all be here for you, no matter what," Jackson said, and Veronica smiled appreciatively at him.

"Thank you," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Y'know, you should've married him when you had the chance - cos' if he dies and you were his wife, you'd get that life insurance. If he dies now, you'll just be poor and sad."

"Cristina!"

"No, it's okay," Veronica said with a slight smile, "it helps."

"God, talk about a dark sense of humour...."

"I think I'm just still drunk," Cristina shrugged.

"I think I'm hungover already; my head is killing me," Veronica groaned, massaging her temples.

"Want me to get you a banana bag?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, why not."

Jackson stood up and made his way across the gallery and to the door; he turned back to face the BAU team members, "can I get anything for you guys? Coffee, water…I wouldn't recommend the food, but we got vending machines."

"No, thank you," Hotch answered politely, "anyone else?"

The rest of the team shook their heads or mumbled no thank-yous in response. Jackson gave them a sympathetic smile before leaving; JJ's stare was still firmly fixed on Veronica.

"What did she mean? You should've married him when you had the chance?" she asked.

"It means that supervisory sexy agent-"

"Cristina!"

"Fine, Spencer, asked V to marry him, and she said no cos' she can't let herself be happy."

"That isn't why I said no, and you know it."

"Well, no. But your real reason is stupid, so I'm gonna say it's your self-destructive tendencies instead. Do you know what I've give to never have to interact with Owen's dumb work friends? You're getting the best of both worlds here."

"You work in the same hospital! Owen's dumb work friends are your colleagues."

"Ugh, whatever."

"You turned Reid down because of us?" Rossi questioned, speaking for the first time since they had entered the gallery.

"It's a bit more complicated than that-"

"What's wrong with us? You didn't even meet us until today?" JJ snapped.

Veronica sighed and picked at her nails; her first interaction with Spencer's friends already wasn't going very well, and now she had to tread lightly as to not offend anyone.

"That's the problem; it took Spencer getting shot in the chest for us to meet because he refused to tell you about me; how could I marry someone when I'd never even met his friends? It's what we argue about more than anything else. We argued about it this morning actually...."

The blood drained away from Veronica's face as the events of the day flashed through her mind.

She turned to face Cristina, "oh God, we were arguing this morning about it, and again when I dropped his phone off at work - the last conversation we ever had was about that stupid argument. What if he dies thinking that I'm pissed off at him? I didn't even tell him I loved him before I stormed off," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Well, he's a profiler, right? Even if you didn't say it, he would be able to tell...."

"He's a genius, not a psychic, Cristina."

"She's right," Derek interjected, "before he lost consciousness, he told me to call you and tried to say something else; he kept saying tell her... he never got to finish, but I'm sure it was just that he loved you."

"He really said that?"

Derek nodded, and a weight was lifted from Veronica's shoulders, although she quickly felt uneasy again when Jackson returned, IV kit and banana bag in hand.

"Okay, I know you don't like needles, but it'll make you feel better, so give me your arm," he demanded.

Veronica huffed and begrudgingly gave him her arm; she winced as he pushed the needle through her skin, "ow! I thought plastic surgeons were supposed to have a gentle touch."

"Plastics is barely even a real speciality; Avery gives boob jobs on the daily – we do real surgeries and save lives."

"Hey! I'm also a qualified ENT, and I practically run the burn unit-"

"Guys," Veronica groaned, "can you have your little dick-measuring-contest another time? Maybe like when my boyfriend isn't lying open on an operating table?" she said, gently massaging the tender skin around her IV.

"You said you liked my dark humour!"

"Only when it's funny," she sat down again and massaged her temples "hey, I think they're nearly done," Veronica cheered.

She dashed over to the intercom, "Are you guys closing him up?"

Teddy nodded, "yeah, and then we'll be taking him up to the CCU. You should get some rest before he wakes up," she advised.

"He's going to be okay, Veronica," Owen said; she couldn't see his face under his mask, but she could tell he was smiling.

Veronica couldn't fight the grin spreading across her own face; Spencer was going to live. He was going to make it off the table. Now all she had to do was pray that he woke up because Veronica didn't know how she would cope if she never saw his eyes again.

"He's really going to be okay?" JJ whispered; she held her hands up to her lips in a prayer formation as fresh tears spilt over onto her cheeks.

Emily pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair, "Hey, don't cry. The doctor said he's going to be okay."

She nodded against Emily's chest, "I know, these are happy tears – it's just I've been sitting here for the past four hours wondering what I would tell Henry if his Uncle Spence died and now, he's going to be okay, and I'm crying more than when I thought he was going to die…stupid," she mumbled.

"It's not stupid," Veronica offered kindly, "your body has been in panic mode and how that you're finally able to relax a bit, you get an emotional outburst that makes you cry – it's totally normal," she said, tentatively reaching out her hand to take JJ's.

She nodded and gave Veronica's hand a squeeze, smiling at her for the first time since they had met. The mood in the room had shifted as the BAU members slowly began to accept that their teammate was going to live, and the nervous tension began to dissipate.

"Teddy's going to close him up and then wheel him up to the CCU, Cristina are you staying or coming home?" Owen's voice echoed through the intercom.

"I'm staying obviously!" she said indignantly.

Veronica shook her head, "no, it's okay, you go home."

"V, I can't leave you here-"

"It's fine, Cristina. You're working in the morning, and you'll need to be here for rounds at 6am, and you won't be any use to anyone if you're sleep-deprived. So, go home. Besides, I've got Avery to keep me company."

Cristina gave her an appreciative smile and squeezed her hand one last time before she left the room. A wave of jealousy surged in Veronica's chest as Cristina disappeared from her line of sight; it wasn't her fault that she was going home with her husband whilst Spencer was being stitched back together. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm so sorry, V," Jackson said, holding up his phone, "it's one of my burn patients, she's got an infection, and I think I'm the only sober attending after the gala…I can send a resident-"

"No, no, it's okay," she smiled sadly, "go and help your patient; she needs you more than I do."

"Page me if you need anything," he said, kissing her forehead gently before leaving her alone with the BAU team.

She was in a room with seven other people, but she had never felt more alone. They were clutching onto each other, whispering amongst themselves and smiling; Veronica didn't have anyone.

She shuffled away from the displays of affection and picked up her dress and shoes, "I'm going to put this stuff in the attending's lounge, there's coffee in there if you want anything – and on-call room seven is always empty if any of you need to sleep. He won't be awake for a while; you should get some rest," she said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

"Thank you, Veronica," Derek said; he nodded over Garcia's head as he held her in his arms, "I don't think any of us will get much sleep until pretty boy wakes up, though."

Veronica laughed, "pretty boy, I always thought he was exaggerating when he said you called him that. If you don't want to sleep, that's fine, but you can't stay in here – the interns like to hang out in here before pre-rounds, and they'll be here soon," she said before gripping onto her IV pole and swiftly exiting the gallery.

Tears burned in her eyes as she made her way to the attending's lounge, grabbing a replacement banana bag from the nurse's station on her way; Spencer was going to be okay. He was going to wake up and have his team to comfort him, fetch him jello, keep him company through the recovery and bring homemade meals to his apartment. What else could she do for him that they couldn't?

She burst into the attending's lounge and slammed the door shut behind her. She let out a heart-wrenching sob as she shoved the dress into her locker, growing frustrated and kicking it when the poufy, underlayers of the skirt wouldn't fit.

Maybe that's why he had never introduced her to the team because he already had seven people who loved him unconditionally and could give him all the love he needed. And Spencer didn't want her to know that; what could she do for him that they couldn't?

Veronica darted into the bathroom and held her own hair bag as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Maybe she was just a fuck to Spencer, an outlet to release his frustrations after a hard day. Assuming he wasn't fucking any of his teammates, that was the only thing she was good for that they couldn't give.

Derek said that his last words before he passed out were about her; he asked him to call her. He tried to give her a message – why did Veronica not share Derek's confidence that the message was I love you?

She flushed the toilet and washed her mouth out with water from the tap. Her headache was beginning to subside, but she still switched out her banana bag before she limped out of the bathroom, using the IV pole as a support.

Veronica threw herself onto the couch. She wanted to scream, or kick something else or rip her own hair out, but she simply didn't have the energy to do anything except shut her eyes and drift off to sleep. The image of Spencer's open chest cavity and the knowledge that his team were everything she was and more burned into her brain.

***

Spencer's brain was awake before his body was. He was acutely aware of people moving around his room, but their voices were muffled, and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes to see who they were.

There was a tight sensation in his throat, and suddenly, Spencer started gagging violently.

"He's fighting the intubation!" a voice called out, "page Dr Altman."

Dr Altman. He knew that name, he thought to himself. But his brain was still too hazy from the anaesthesia to think straight. Dr Altman…something to do with cardiothoracic surgery – probably one of his doctors. But where had they met before?

He felt hands all over him, grabbing at his neck and face; there was a horrible scraping sensation in his throat, and then he could breathe freely again. He's fighting the intubation, the voice had said. That was good; that meant he was breathing on his own.

However, he couldn't appreciate the joy of knowing he wouldn't be hooked to a ventilator for the rest of his life whilst his throat ached like that. The tube had been removed, but he still felt his gag reflex at the threshold of triggering.

He really needed to get Veronica more credit for that.

His limbs were heavy, he tried to at least wriggle his fingers, but they wouldn't move. The muffled voices which echoed around him were beginning to become clearer; he could make out what sounded to be JJ's voice by his head.

Finally, his brain allowed his eyes to flicker open. But he immediately wanted to screw them shut again when the blinding fluorescent glare of the ceiling lights shone down on him.

"Oh my god," JJ gasped, "he's awake!"

He couldn't move his head to see her, but her worried face quickly appeared in front of his, "Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?" she asked frantically.

"Ow," he mumbled in response.

"Thank God you're okay," she said, stroking his hair as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You gave us a scare, pretty boy."

Spencer strained his eyes enough to see Derek standing in the corner; he leant against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest, but Spencer could clearly see the grin he was fighting.

"What happened?" he groaned, trying to readjust his body into a more comfortable position.

"Hey, don't try and move," JJ scolded lightly, "the nurse said that you'll be groggy from the anaesthesia for a while," she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

"Did we get him? The unsub?"

"Yeah, don't you worry about him, kid, he's going away for a long time," Derek reassured, "he got a shot in at you before we could take him down… I'm so sorry, kid, you fell, and it distracted me long enough for him to shot you before I could shoot him."

"Hey, it's not your fault," JJ said, "it could've happened to any of us."

Spencer nodded in agreement but didn't try and speak again; his head was throbbing, and he closed her eyes again, the darkness providing some brief relief from the brilliant light above his head. But with every passing second, Spencer became increasingly aware of the dull aches in his chest and abdomen, the pain growing sharper with each intake of breath.

"How many times did I get shot?" he groaned, "I can't remember anything…but my whole body hurts."

JJ bit her lip as she continued to stroke his hair, "just once, Spence, but you fell down the stairs just before you got him and it injured…something, I don't know what – I can't remember what she said," JJ looked over to Derek for a prompt, but he shook his head in response.

"Hey, don't look at me; I didn't understand a single word any of those doctors said," Derek shrugged, "Dr Altman is coming to check on you, though, kid. I'm sure she'll explain it all to you."

Dr Teddy Altman!

They met at Cristina and Owen's wedding; Spencer could tell she was in love with the groom and distracted her with a rant on Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction. She was Veronica's friend.

Oh god, Veronica. She must be so worried – if Derek had even called her that was, she might be oblivious to his condition. Spencer was ready to open his mouth to as about her, but JJ was already speaking again before he had the chance.

"…and our resident genius will definitely be able to understand better than us," she said, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead, "I've never been so nervous as when we were sitting in that gallery, thank god those doctors fixed you up."

"Wait, what gallery?" Spencer asked, opening his eyes to squint at her, her words distracting him long enough to forget to ask about Veronica.

JJ paused and exchanged a look with Derek, "we hoped you wouldn't mind – we were in the OR gallery during your surgery, but we didn't actually see anything," she reassured, "none of us could actually bring ourselves to watch, but we just wanted to be there, in case anything happened to you."

"Not that we'd have been much help," Derek chuckled, "but I got you to the hospital in one piece. I wasn't about to let you out of my sight until you were stable."

Spencer nodded slowly, "how did you even get in there?" he mumbled.

"Veronica," Derek said, "you asked me to call her, and she came straight over, but she wasn't about to sit around in any waiting room, so she found out where you were…we just followed her up there."

Spencer tugged on his blanket, "so…you met her then?"

JJ nodded stiffly, "we did."

"Oh. Suppose I did ask you to call her, I don't know what I expected…."

"We didn't get a chance to talk much," Derek said carefully, "you were touch-and-go a bit in surgery, so it was a bit too tense for small talk."

JJ moved away from him and sat back in the chair next to his bed; she picked at her nails, "I don't get why you never told us about her, Spence?"

Spencer didn't answer her. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go; in fact, he was hoping he'd never have to have this conversation at all. The rational part of his brain knew that was unrealistic, but the rational part of his brain didn't seem to exist when it came to protecting Veronica.

He shrugged, "I didn't think you guys needed to know."

Derek unfolded his arms and moved out of the corner, coming to rest at the end of Spencer's bed, "didn't need to know? You've been making excuses about this to me all day, kid. And I'm not buying the - you wanted to have something to yourself - bullshit anymore-"

"You asked her to marry you," JJ said, her voice cracking slightly, "you wanted her to be your wife, but you didn't even tell us about her? Were you just going to get married without any of us there?"

"She told you that?"

Spencer had the strength to ball one of his fists; this was going horribly. The tension he had created in his hand spread up his arm and along to his chest. He grimaced as another sharp stab of pain rippled across his body.

JJ shook her head, "no, her friend mentioned it, and we overheard. I don't get it, Spence, we're supposed to be like family, and she…we didn't get to talk, but she seems nice. And she's a doctor – she's smart like you, and she obviously loves you. Did you think we wouldn't like her?"

"No, and she said no to me anyway, so it doesn't matter…."

"She only said no because you wouldn't introduce her to us," Derek stated bluntly, "that's what she said when we asked her about it and considering I didn't even know she existed till this morning, I can't say that I blame her."

"Guys, I will explain later, I promise," Spencer began as he tried to sit up in the bed, "but I need to talk to Veronica. Right now – where is she?"

"She is in a patient room down the hall," Dr Altman said as she waltzed into the room and picked up Spencer's chart from the end of his bed, "nice to see you awake, Dr Reid."

"A patient room – i-is she okay?" Spencer stammered.

Teddy peered over the chart to look at his concerned face, "she'll be fine, she's just dehydrated and a bit hungover – we've got her on an IV. Besides, the couch in the attending's lounge is not the place you want to sleep unless you want to give yourself scoliosis."

Spencer tried to move one of his legs, "I need to go see her, I need to explain everything, I-"

"You need to lay back down," Teddy said as she moved over to his bedside and pressed her stethoscope against his chest, "I need to listen to your chest, take a deep breath for me-"

Spencer begrudgingly breathed in.

"-breath sounds are clear and equal, that's a good sign," Teddy said, hanging the stethoscope back around her neck, "and your latest round of labs are all within normal limits. Dr Hunt and I were able to remove all the bullet fragments during surgery, we were concerned that the impact could've weakened the wall of your thoracic aorta, but it seems unaffected."

Spencer nodded, "okay."

“We had to convert to an exploratory laparotomy mid-surgery; you had some bleeding in your abdomen which we needed to repair; that's why you have two incision sites. They will likely leave scars, I'm afraid, but the abdominal bleeding triggered a condition called DIC and would have been fatal had we not caught the bleeders."

Spencer's brain was spinning. He knew he had been in bad shape, but he really nearly died. He needed to talk to Veronica, and fast.

"…it was actually Veronica who made the connection between your fall and the bleeding. She wasn't even operating, and she saved your life," Teddy smiled at him, "I just need to take a peek at your incision sites, and then I'll be out of your hair."

Spencer winced as she lifted up his bandages to take a closer look.

"Okay, they look all good and no signs of infection. You will need at least another day for observation; I'll get the nurse to administer your post-op antibiotics, so let her know if there's anything else you need."

"He won't admit it, but he's in pain. Can he get any more morphine or something?" JJ asked, biting her nail.

"What? No, I'm fine. I don't need any more painkillers; I'm all good!"

Teddy raised an eyebrow at him, "you just had major surgery, but you don't want more pain meds?" she asked sceptically, "you aren't maxed out on anything; I can order more-"

"No," Spencer snapped, "I mean…no thank you, Dr Altman. They make me too disoriented, and I need to be clear-headed when I talk to Veronica," he said, adjusting his tone.

Teddy gave him one last suspicious look before she moved back towards the door, "okay, no more pain meds. I'll let Veronica know you're awake," she said before exiting the room, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

Spencer let out a deep sigh of relief and relaxed back into his pillows slightly. Even the brief conversation with Dr Altman had left him exhausted, so he wasn't sure how he would manage when the rest of the team flocked to his bedside to question him about his condition and Veronica.

Veronica.

That was going to be a long conversation.

JJ and Derek stayed by his side as the nurse came in to administer his antibiotics, just as Dr Altman had said.

"Hotch and Rossi had to go sort some things out with the arrest," Derek had informed him, "they said they'll stop by later when they can."

"And Emily and Garcia are in the cafeteria, we've let them know you're awake, but we didn't want to overwhelm you with too many visitors at once," JJ explained, "and Garcia really needed some sugar. She's been freaking out, Emily's trying to get her to eat something," she chuckled.

"I feel bad I caused all this stress…." Spencer mumbled.

"Course we're worried about you, Spence; we're a family. But you didn't cause us stress; it's not your fault," JJ reassured; she leaned closer to Spencer to grip his hand in hers.

"Exactly, it's the unsub's fault. You didn't choose to get shot," Derek added; he shuffled over to the bed from his corner and took hold of Spencer's other hand.

The three of them sat in comfortable and heartfelt silence for a few moments with their hands intertwined until they were interrupted by a hesitant voice in the doorway.

"Uh, sorry, I did mean to interrupt. I'll come back later…."

part 3 coming soon

sorry there’s not too much spencer in this part, i promise there will be more in part 3 when veronica and spencer have their confrontation

if you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment as it really keeps me motivated, and reblogging! i really appreciate likes but on the tumblr reblogs are the only way to get my work out there x

tagging anyone who commented on part 1, message me/ comment if you want to be tagged for part 3:

@dilaurantisbitch

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rumor-imbris · 3 years

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Hello, Lady Connor! I want to ask out of unbearable, suffocating curiosity in my heart, even though in the previous post you already said to not mention "that certain comic". Could you please enlighten me about your view on that comic and what you despise about it? I would love to read your detailed thoughts about it even if just once. But if this is too triggering for you, I'm truly sorry for your discomfort and you don't need to answer it.

Hello, dear Anon and welcome ^-^ It's weird you naturally called me Lady Connor, as usually only my little fairy @giuliettaluce does. Well, I guess her magic put a spell on everybody here!!

If you really care to know, I'll answer, but brace yourself, it's going to be very long, almost an essay, because I can be very detailed about that comic being a failure in its every part. There's so much to say. You're right, as I mentioned before, it can trigger me, but I have attentively analized it and I know it makes not a single atom of sense. So nothing can actually bother me that much, don't worry ^_-

First of all, my general consideration of the AC Reflections comic issue #4, (yeah, that thing -.-) is that of a mere attempt to desperately make Bayek's remote vision through Senu's eyes a canon feature. It was created and published in 2017, the same year AC Origins was released and yes, they needed an excuse to make believe Connor's alleged daughter inherited a skill someone (who isn't even their direct ancestor!!) that lived 1700 years ago in ancient Egypt had! OMG, this should be funny enough, but I'll go on. Also, I think it was likely a carelessly arranged way to satisfy those AC3 fans demanding a "happy ending" for unlucky Connor (quite 5 years later, of course).

I'll better go step by step to figure out where to start from, seriously.

1) In the comic, when Otso Berg opens the file related to Connor, the scene is set in "1796: Upstate New York." Now this is chronologically and spacially incoherent and illogical. We see Connor still wears his assassin outfit in it, right? According to AC Initiates (2012) in 1804 Connor invites the Dominican assassin Eseosa at the Davenport homestead to provide him some advices and further training as he's involved in the leading of the Haitian Revolution. That's a really cool character, read about him, if you want!

So, until then Connor is still an assassin, probably the mentor (by now) of the Colonial Brotherhood. He still runs the homestead and he still commands the Aquila, I guess, he's the captain still. I calculated the distance between the homestead and the then upper NY frontier territories is approximately 260 miles (quite far nowadays with cars and planes as well). Then, why the hell should he have a family located in the forest upstate NY? It sounds very unconfortable to run back and forth to reach them and go back to take care of all the Brotherhood matters, doesn't it? Unless he knew about teleportation!!! Also, wow, he lives all alone in a nice massive villa with all the comforts of that time while his children and wife still live in a Native village constantly menaced by settlers wanting to steal their land? Beside the fact that Connor, at least in my point of view, seemed at last very familiar with european way of living by the end of the game, this leads us to the next point.

2) By the time the game and the comic are set (second half of 18th century), most of the East Coast Native tribes were facing the tragic and forced migration to western and northern territories (mostly towards Canada, protected by the British) because of all the consequences of the Revolutionary War (lost territories, failed alliances, settlers advancing and buying their lands and so on). So tells us history, unfortunately. It's a fact. And this is wisely showed to us in the AC3 main game when, after all the Kanien'kehá:ka tribes had left the territory around Connor's village (yes, even those near New York, to be clear) even Connor's own tribe at last migrates west, leaving an empty ghost village. They had remained all along to protect the secret temple, but in the end they as well were forced to leave. So, to me it's highly improbable that in upstate NY, one could still find a tribe and even if so, that Connor would let his family live there and risk their safety everyday.

3) The whole comic plot revolves around the fact that Io:nhiòte has a "special gift"... She inexplicably knows how to read the ground and find animal traces, she also can perform a perfect twisted acrobatic flip in the air and land unharmed to the ground. Do we know why? No, don't ask! xD She simply knows U.U, even if right after the next scene she slips and falls miserably down a cliff xD, but... ok!! Beside that, when Connor is far away to search for some water and is about to be attacked by a wolf hidden in the grass nearby, she sees the whole scene from the eyes of an eagle flying in the sky above her. As I said before, this reminds us of Bayek's (never clearly explained) ability to see through his eagle Senu's eyes and spot dangers and enemies. Now can you tell me why the hell this little girl has super powers and a skill Bayek had? As I said, they are not even directely related, as Bayek is not one of Desmond Miles' ancestor, we know him simply because Layla's new Animus is magical and can inexplicably read fragmented DNA from people who died a thousand years ago (it can also prepair coffee, I think!). So, where did she get that from? Magic? Mysteries of life? Convenient improbable connections for marketing's sake? We'll never know and you should simply accept that and ask no question!

4) From her height, way of speaking/moving/running, I assume Io:nhiòte is at least 8 years old, 8 - 9 minimum. She's the youngest of three siblings, who must be at least two years older than her and than each other (according to a human woman pregnancy timing!). If the comic events are set 12 years after the main game ending (1784, when Connor also starts to train the young ex-slave Patience Gibbs, arriving at the Davenport homestead with Aveline De Grandpré, according to AC IV Black Flag bonus mission with Aveline), so, this means that in that same year Connor must have found hastily the love of his life in a Native village (as if he was easy to open himself with other people after all he's been through), married her, impregnated her and seen her give birth to their first child, all in the same year when (let's not foget! xD) he still is the leader of the Colonial Assassin Brotherhood at the Davenport homestead training novices. Now, this may even be possible humanly speaking, (well, if you force the things a bit and hurry up!) but highly unlikely to happen!! xD

These are the main problems affecting the logic of the comic in my opinion, the points making its foundations crumble apart. Though I'm sure there are many little others to point out, such as Otso Berg "opening" Connor's files... like what? Where did those data come out from? I remember playing AC IV Black Flag and uncovering a file where Abstergo researchers themselves closed access to his memories as there was "nothing appealing to this character anymore"! So, if no more researches were conducted on him since 2013, where did Mr Berg magically or conveniently discovered such data in 2017?

Or... do we want to talk about the cover? It shows Connor in the spirit outfit from the Tyranny of King Washington DLC, which has apparently nothing to do with the comic, since it is set in his present day and he wears his assassin standard robe. Now, I think that can be either a simple marketing choice to make the comic more appealing, as... well, that cover is so cool, let's admit that, or maybe the subtle suggestion that the events told in it are just a parallel Disney-like reality and are not to be considered true at all! xD i don't know, maybe both explanations are right.

I'm sure that the deeper i dig, the more nothing rational I'll find!

If you played the old games, if you know well the franchise and its lore, the true, good, old AC lore, you definitely realize by yourself how that comic is useless and senseless.

This doesn't mean I do not wish an "happy ending" for Connor. But I'd rather accept something coherent with the main game events and AC chronology. Also, it doesn't necessarily needs to be a "happy" ending, as they conveniently created to please complaining fans. I wished for something real... coherent with his personality, acquired life-style and endless sense of duty and values.

Maybe that's what pushed me to write my FanFic novel in the first place, after all... To give him MY OWN cohesive ending, including my love, for love is always needed, I guess.

I'm so sorry if the answer took this long in time and words, but you were warned! ^w^

Though, thank you... Seriously, thank you so much for asking. You made me reflect once more about this matter.

Come visit me again, if you want. Take care

- Rumor Imbris 🦋

P.S. Oh, and if you're interested, this is my "jelousy song", for when things like this trigger my inner witch!! xD

#ask #ask me anything #I Am the Storm!!!!#AC3 Reflections #why it sucks #why it makes no sense #thanks for asking #anon ask

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babblable · 3 years

Note

MORE QUESTIONS FOR UR BABEYS

Void Cat 16, Jackie 22, Staniel 26, Gibbs 36, Pekkit 47,

And EVERYONE 41 because I am curious :)

16. Void Cat collects music boxes, even broken ones. Each one has such a unique and sweet melody. The broken ones they try to fix, but they're just a dumb cat... how can they fix something so fragile without breaking it more...

22. Ajaxx likes many insults, but rarely uses them, it seems. Perhaps their favorite insults are the ones that are vague... Like when they describe Mar as "Certainly a person that exists within the same vicinity."

26. Staniel is a funny one, to be sure! He's prone to bouncing around and shaking his tail feathers when happy or excited. Stan is a pecking DORK.

36. Bc of how long he's been living, he should be good at many things. Keyword is SHOULD. Unfortunately he 's lost a lot of things over time as well. But one of the things that sticks, no matter how much time passes him by, is his singing, his dancing, his flute playing and his drawing. These are things he's done since day one. Things he's held onto stubbornly, from his very CORE, since day one. Even if he doesn't believe they have the same effect they used to have, he still does them and he can still do them just as well. His imagination will never die.

47. To be quite fair, Pekkit is aware of what is actually considered "black tie apparel" and for many different centuries too! He's old.

that being said, he's also a 9 FOOT TALL HAUSEN DRUID BIRD. Good luck getting any clothes to actually fit him. At most he'd be able to wear the black tie and call it a day.

41!

Ajaxx: Ajaxx is just babey your honor. Romance and Attraction aren't things on their mind.

Staniel: Aro/Ace??? Honestly, Staniel isn't too sure. Romance doesn't really interest him and attraction isn't something he's ever felt, not that he really thinks about it often anyways. He is in a QPR with Coil and Coils Boyfriend, but it's more so a deeper sort of friendship connection on his part than anything. Tbh his mind is off in the clouds, too busy trying to find the light he's been looking for in his career to actually think about his sexuality.

Gibbs: Strictly Aro/Ace and Very Much So Married, thanking you! He married someone ONCE with the understanding that they were the best of friends(a platonic marriage) and he'll happily claim to still be married to her, even if he's not seen her in centuries..

Pekkit: Gay. Oh my god he's so fucking gay. However, he isn't necessarily in the market, either. He's old and been married several times, often ending in divorce. Once again, love is the last thing on his mind. If it happens, it happens, but for now, he's content being a single father of several dozens of tiny little hausen chicks and One(1) Daughter Named After An Instrument.

As for what he finds attractive...

Strong arms that are also so gentle... Calloused hands that even when carressing his cheek feel like clouds bc the person is being so careful. Ruggedness, but held in such a soft way.

He'd prefer someone either as tall as him or taller, with fluff so he could nuzzle into the persons chest and neck, but given his height, he knows better than to hold out hope for that.

Preferably someone cuddly, tbh, in terms of personality. He's touch starved. Married much less cuddly people, all mutually divorced because they simply didn't meet each others needs like they thought they did.

He does also enjoy when partners actually communicate. He himself struggles with communication, but thats mostly bc he lacks the words and verbal motor skills to do so rather than a lack of trying. He does try! He tries so hard, but for him, talking verbally and getting what he wants across is difficult. Also unfortunately, he can't sign. No fingers.

#toonkind #toonkind dnd #ajaxx mackeller #gibbs #void cat #lil staniel looloo stagehand #pekkit

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ncisfranchise-source · 3 years

Link

TVLine asked, and you answered. And most of you, quite seriously!

In the wake of NCIS‘ quite eventful Season 18, finale, TVLine raised a series of “burning questions” — primarily sparked by, and including: How does Gibbs get his handcrafted boats of of his basement?

Whether in Comments or, among the especially motivated, email, you got back to us with a wide array of theories. Review them below, and tell us which extraction plan you think, in the words of Vinny Gambino, holds water.

EASY DOES IT!

His basement had garage doors and a driveway outside. –Sharon

Gibbs cleared out his tools from cellar, and the wall to port side of Rule 91 had allowed for removal of boat OR the wall ahead of bow leads to a ramp to remove the boat, already on a trailer. –Mike

FLOATED IDEAS

Given how he was emptying all the tools out, I assume flooding is somehow involved? –LrdSlvrhnd

Gibbs did have his tools upstairs before the boat was removed. It may have floated out. –Bryant

TOOLING AROUND

Moving the tools from the basement was to make room for the moving of the boat. –T

If you remember, Gibbs had a bunch of his stuff upstairs when Tim came by. Gibbs gave him a so-so answer of rearranging the basement. He moves it out to hoist it up into the garage. –Al

Volume 0%

UP, UP AND AWAY!

The ceiling in Gibbs’ basement matches the ceiling of the first floor. (Just look at the stairs and the ceiling height.) He hoists the boat up and with his tools he removes a portion of the back wall of his house and voila, it’s in the backyard. –Mark

I noticed a long time ago that Gibbs’ ceiling is over 14′ high, according to the steps to the landing. You never see the high part of the wall the boats are facing (all of them faced the same way), which means he had a boat launch and open wall system to get the boats up and out. Most ceilings in those type of houses are no more than 8′. –Phil

Gibbs gets his boat out by moving the garage floor and using a boat lift he borrows from the marina — he only needs it once every 10 years or so. It’s why he keeps that old, sturdy pickup truck… –Paulette

A crawl space under the front porch. All that is needed is about 4-1/2 feet clearance behind the tools hanging on the pegboard in basement. –Edward

THE WALL CAME TUMBLING DOWN

The boat goes out through a wall that is torn so precisely it could pass without a scratch. It’s no big business to reconstruct a wall –just beton stone (with forged holes) and blended cement or concrete. It’s done in 2-5 days. I think all of Gibbs’ boats have gone through a wall in the cellar. It’s just a tear down affair, and Gibbs is a craftsman in both wood and building or brick or stone-laying. –Carl

HOLEY MOLY!

He gets the boats out through the basement floor. His house is built over tunnels once used by bootleggers, which had to be big enough to move large barrels onto large trucks. Also, he and Ziva escaped into tunnels when they were trapped in basement. –Emma

Either the ceiling, wall, or a tunnel under the boat, since he’s always been building something there. –Sandi

WERE WE JUST LOOKING AT IT WRONG?

He turned the boat on its side. That is what my husband did. –Ethel

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST….

It’s a movie set. The walls are movable. The crew just slides the walls out of the way, back the boat trailer in, and put the boat on the trailer and drive it away. –RJ

#ncis

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graham-cheshire · 4 years

Text

Study & Theories for the Finnari

Hello once again dear readers. For those of you who haven’t heard of @starr-fall-knight-rise I suggest visiting them and reading their stories, as they are some of my favorites and they form the basis of this post here.

I was very pleased with how well received my last post like this was, in which I covered the known facts for the appearance of an alien species of starr-fall’s (the Gnar’lak), as well as provided my own theories and speculations regarding what I thought their appearance might be. Today I will be doing the same but for the species named “the Finnari”.

This is a species that I’ve been interested in for a while now as they are described as seeing in infrared (seeing heat) and that in the written universe of starr-fall-knight-rise they are one of three alien species that enter into interspecies relationships with humans (something that intrigues my romantic tendencies).

I had initially intended to do this species before the Gnar’lak, but then realized that it would provide some necessary details do to the Gnar’lak first as that species would’ve had a large impact on the Finnari (for more details on how please read starr-fall’s stories).

Same as last time I will start by providing the confirmed facts about their physical appearance provided by starr-fall’s stories & answered questions, then I shall list what we can infer based on those facts & other details, and finally wrap up with my own theories that seem the most plausible.

Before I start here are some disclaimers: First: I want to give thanks to starr-fall-knight-rise for allowing me to do this and for receiving my last post positively, I in no way own the Finnari or make any claim to doing so & am doing this simply because I love starr-fall’s stories & want to contribute in some way to the fandom. Secondly: I am by no means a biologist & most of my research comes from the internet, if I am wrong please do not bash me hard and simply provide clarification in the comments. Thirdly: I will use reference images to help describe my thinking and theories, I in no way own or take credit for these images.

The Confirmed Appearance Details

In this area there is not much to go on, no true concrete facts like with the Gnar’lak, the most obvious will still need clarification in the next section, but I will give them here to start you off with a vague idea of the appearance.

“The radio signal intercepted him on his posterior receptors, & he turned to face the speaker.”

“-lowered his third limb from his infrared receptors.”

“-smiled at the little Finnari.”

The Inferred Appearance Details

“-rate each species from weakest to strongest”... “Vrul/Gibb, Bran, Finnari, Iotans, Teraski,-” = Taking this in combination with their stated small size (described in context with a human) I would say we can infer that they don’t have any exceptional musculature.

“a prey species” = With this I think it’s a fair bet too infer that they do not have the typical predator characteristics such as large fangs, claws, etc.

“-different races rank in terms of instantaneous speed?”... “Humans can outpace everyone else”... “Teraski, Vrul, Celzex, & Finnari have no chance.” = In combination in their size this can infer that they have no specialized running muscles or traits such as digitigrade legs & the like.

“-back in the old days when they weren’t at war with each other the Gnar’lak kept Finnari on farms.” = With this we can infer that the Finnari might give birth to multiple young as this is a typical trait of a species that is farmed like livestock. Taking into consideration that this is a species that garner the attraction of humans I’d say we can infer that they also follow the trend of the Drev & the Teraski and give birth to live young.

“How many rounds it takes to kill-”...”a 22 round” = With this we can infer that they likely do not have tough skin, shells, or shock absorption, and may even have softer bones than humans.

“Which species use farming-” ... “The Finnari” = From this we can infer that they have prehensile limbs and appendages for manipulating tools & picking crops, and thus are likely herbivores with the mouths for such.

“Infrared and thermal sensors within his eyes ” = This is one that I will go into more in the section for theories, but the basic thing we can infer from this is that the Finnari likely cold-blooded, because if they were mammals or avians they would likely blind themselves by looking at each other.

“interstellar communication tower” ... “Finnari rocket technology” = This is another detail we can use to infer that the Finnari have appendages with the dexterity for manipulating tools.

“-the humans themselves were beacons of radiance allowing heat to pour off their skin & into the atmosphere. It was a wonder they could keep themselves running at all losing as much energy as they were.” = This is another detail that leads into inferring that they are cold-blooded and might also be another reason they are likely to get into relationships with humans.

“-the creature gave a confused look” = this is a detail that infers expressive facial features that humans might be able to recognize, such as brows or the wrinkling of a nose.

“The Finnari whistled amused” = Whistling is a sound made by the puckering of lips or positioning of the tongue along teeth, or in the throat among animals, so we can infer that there is a possibility that they have lips.

“nodded & scurried off” = This detail is a little more vague, but generally the motion of “scurrying” brings to mind a creature moving quickly on all fours such as a mouse or other small animal, even though the actual definition does not include that. I’ll go more on that in the theory section.

Those are the main items I intended to cover in the Inferred section but now I’ll also cover the items from the Confirmed section to give an idea of what they imply.

“The radio signal intercepted him on his posterior receptors, & he turned to face the speaker.” = This is a complex one, as radio signals are a technological term that would imply that the Finnari have a form of biological “walkie-talkie” for communication through “prosterior” receptors that would be sensory organs that face backwards. Given the amount of interference that might come with this when around technology that gives out and receives radio signals, particularly human technology, I think the more likely thing this infers is a piece of equipment the Finnari was wearing but I will cover this again in the Theory section.

“-lowered his third limb from his infrared receptors.” = With this we can infer that the Finnari likely have more than two arms or possibly a long prehensile tail that can reach and cover their eyes. I’ll go more on this in the Theory section.

“-smiled at the little Finnari.” = This is actually possibly the most concrete bit of physical description we have for the Finnari as it is from an adult human male to an adult female Finnari, inferring a height disparity that puts the Finnari as being noticeable smaller than humans.

Theorized Appearance Details

To start this section off let’s look back on two details from before about the Finnari, them being cold-blooded and being prey species, for which I would likely theorize that they are lizard-like reptilians for the following reasons:

Animals that fall under the “cold-blooded” attribute include: Reptiles (snakes, lizards, turtles, tortoises, alligators, crocodiles, etc.), some insects, amphibians (frogs, toads, salamanders, etc.), & fish.

We can rule out the Finnari being insects due to the fact that humans would need to find them attractive.

We have no indication that Finnari require water or inhabit water so we can rule out them being fish.

Having tough skin or hard shells would’ve interfered with the Gnar’lak feeding on the Finnari so it makes sense they wouldn’t resemble turtles or tortoises.

Factoring in that they are a prey species and thus likely herbivorous it’d make sense for them to be reptiles as multiple reptiles are herbivores while amphibians are generally carnivores or omnivores.

Referring back to earlier about the size of the Finnari I’ll say that is another trait that would pair well with being cold-blooded, as larger creatures require more body heat. However regarding specifics I’d imagine them being somewhere between 2ft.-4ft in height, small by human standards but not so small that being in a relationship with a human or being fed on by the Gnar’lak would be impractical.

To add on some attributes for being cold-blooded let’s talk about ways the Finnari could absorb heat. Being lizard-like reptiles they could warm themselves using insolation (the absorption of the sun's rays ) and conduction (absorbing heat from the ground or other hot surface), though I think the later has it’s disadvantages and is unlikely as the Finnari are at least bipedal and thus wouldn’t be able to warm themselves properly without lying down. With the first option however the proper technology can be used to replicate the warming effects of the sun’s rays.

This can factor into appearance traits as they could use a technique similar to the frilled-neck lizard (see image below) who use impressive frills to create more surface area to absorb heat and helps to keep warm.

For the Finnari a theory and adaption of this trait could be that they use frills on their backs to absorb heat adequately in a manner similar to below:

Another alternative is that they could do what some lizards have done and adapt to be able to change color, turning darker colors to absorb heat better and turning lighter colors to cool down.

Moving on to more obvious physical traits let’s go over the options for the “third limb”, which as stated before could mean either multiple arms or a prehensile tail. To cover the simpler option, a prehensile tail with a fan-like frill (see images below) could work properly in the context of shielding eyes, while also tying into the above discussion with an additional frill for absorbing heat.

The other option is having multiple arms, for which I’d theorize as having four to avoid having too many limbs while also keeping the number even and the physical layout symmetrical, which is another trait humans typically consider attractive. For this there are many options for the positioning of the arms but I’d like to tie it in with a topic I touched on briefly in the Inferred section regarding the “scurrying” motion and how it often evokes an image of a creature running on all fours.

When thinking of this I theorized that the Finnari could be a variant form of facultative biped, which is a creature that is capable of walking or running on two legs in spite of normally walking or running on four limbs or more, albeit only for a limited periods of time, with the variant being that they do so in the reverse if possible of normally being on two legs and running on four or more limbs. And when thinking of the body structure that could facilitate such a thing with the possibility of four arms taken into consideration I happened upon a creature from the Star Wars: Clone Wars series called the momong (see images below) that seemed to have the perfect body structure to use as reference, though with possible longer legs even if the short legs would tie into the lack of running speed.

For the head and mouth structure I’d theorize that it’d resemble something like an iguana, chuckwalla, or uromastyx (images in respective order below) as those the most common herbivorous lizards, and a snout-like head that positions the eyes on the sides is a common trait of a prey species. We should also remember from the Inferred section that they might have lips for whistling and muscles in the brow and nose with more range of expressive motion than human lizards.

Now let’s discuss the Finnari’s most notable feature, which is their infrared vision. While one might think that this would equal an easy to determine physical feature of having eyes similar in appearance to a snake’s, research actually proves that wrong. Stated before in the Inferred section with the “Infrared and thermal sensors in his eyes”, this is different from snakes who have holes on their faces called pit organs, which contain a membrane that can detect infrared radiation from warm bodies:

Of the cold-blooded animals that see infrared the most notable one that actually uses its eyes to do so is the bullfrog. So the Finnari might actually have an eye appearance like so:

And finally I’ll wrap up with the most difficult trait to research and come up with a proper theory for, which is the posterior receptors for radio signals. As stated having this would be a rear-facing or back-mounted sensory organ that would function as a biological “walkie-talkie”, which would definitely pick up a lot of interference around technology that utilizes radio signals/waves, like another form of hearing that receives constant noise, and thus would be impractical, and there is no example of an animal using this on Earth. While one can take some artistic liberty for it & say the Finnari possess such a sensory organ there is no accurate example that I would feel alright providing. For my theories I’ll simply think that these radio receptors are a form of technology rather than biology.

I apologize for taking so long to post this collection of studies and theories and hope that it is informative and close to the mark of what starr-fall imagined. I honestly don’t know which species I’ll do next though I have considered doing the Tvek. If any readers have tips on where they think I could improve in my writing please comment.

#starr-fall-knight-rise #alien #fan theory #research #species #just speculating #sci fi #romance option #Studies & Theories of an Alien Species

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pro-bee · 4 years

Text

the road less traveled

Note: I cooked this up in the last 24 hours to try to work through some writer’s block on my post-reunion WIP. So this is a bit of a stream of consciousness mess, but if I don’t post this now, I’m gonna chicken out and all my other ideas are going to go PFFT. Also, this is inspired by all the discourse you guys have been floating around lately so it’s your fault.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Nada. Generally season 17. Possibly AU depending on how you look at things. (Also assumes Summer of Secret Sex happened don’t start with me)

Relationships: Implied Tiva. Vague mentions of Bishop/Torres. General team bonding.

Words: 1700

Summary: Sometimes a case hits a little too close to home. Sometimes it makes people want to do something about it.

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

“How could they have known that they each had feelings for each other for so long and not done anything about it?! That had to have been torture!”

Bishop has been on a rant since their team got to their table at their favorite watering hole, decompressing after yet another wild case that has prodded at more than a few wounds between them. It was a story of star-crossed lovers, who held back on their feelings for one another for fear of ruining their friendship (and losing their jobs), until one made a tragic mistake and the other paid for it. One of those times where they get no satisfaction out of getting their suspect, because of the chaos left in its wake.

“Don’t ask me. I have been in love with the same man since I was 23 and I still haven’t fully figured it out.”

Ziva’s unexpected candor (and unexpected help in the investigation) catches the younger agent off-guard; she wasn’t counting on things taking such a personal turn. Bishop gives her a sad smile, though the answer clearly isn’t the one she necessarily wants to hear at the moment. Torres shifts nervously in his seat across the table from her, unclear on where this conversation is headed, on edge the way he is whenever he’s around his predecessor.

The admission gives McGee pause, but maybe this isn’t the time to press. “It’s funny, looking at us all now, with families of our own, I can’t imagine having to wait that long to finally be with the person you love. I mean, waiting for years just to act on your attraction…”

“Oh, we definitely acted on it,” she offers in typical Ziva bluntness. “We just failed to follow through on any of it.”

McGee nearly chokes on his drink at the revelation. The wheels start to spin in his head, his eyebrows creased in confusion, as he pieces it together at lightning speed.

“You guys were sleeping together?!”

“I mean, not the whole time,” her hand waves around on its own, as if to punctuate the sentence, “But… some of the times, yes.”

“Like when?!”

“Now look who is butting in! I would expect that from Tony, but you?” She tsks at him, with mock sternness, until she notices the desperation in his eyes as his world seems to have turned upside down. “Okay, fine… Like… Like, when Gibbs retired, for instance.”

(“Gibbs retired?” “When did this happen?” their newer counterparts interject in unison, but their curiosity goes unanswered in the firestorm happening around them.)

“Back then?! That was… Ziva that almost fifteen years ago! You guys have been together for fifteen years?!”

“No! That is my whole point! We were not together together. We were just… what do you say? Letting out air?”

“Blowing off steam?”

“Yes! That!” Her own drink nearly flies off the table.

“Wait, that means— How did you keep it a secret for so long?!”

“I knew!” Palmer offers helpfully.

“I am fairly certain everyone knew, eventually.”

“No way! Gibbs didn’t.”

“Gibbs definitely knew,” she snorts at the memory of being on the receiving end of his beady stare one morning when she and her partner were just a hair more heated in their bickering than usual, even for them.

“And you lived to tell the tale?!” Surely Boss would have banished them to desk duty, or worse yet, Inventory, if he found out they were hot bunking.

“I believe it was a case of don’t ask, don’t tell. Besides, it’s not like it affected our work.”

“True, you two were just as unprofessional as always.”

She flings her discarded crumpled straw wrapper at him.

His mind still reels, though.

“How— how did I not know that my best friends were hooking up behind my back?!”

“McGee!” she lilts, stretching his name out like a song in the way only she does, “You cannot be serious! You wrote a whole book about us! Several, in fact!”

“For the last time, Tommy and Lisa were not about you and Tony! Those books were works of fiction!”

“Oh come on McGee,” pipes in Torres, who had until now tried his best to find any escape from this forced socialization. “Even I knew that! And I’ve never even read your books.”

“Or a book, period,” his partner mutters into her glass.

“How do you even know about—?”

“Bishop,” he shrugs.

“Ellie!”

“What?! It’s not like it’s a secret, Tim.”

“It’s personal! And again, Tommy and Lisa are fictional.”

Bishop and Torres roll their eyes in unison.

“Well, then, you must have psychic powers in addition to your keen observational skills as an agent,” she teases, with only a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She can’t believe they’re really hashing out their scars in the open like this, but it is a brave new world.

McGee finally shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, and even she can’t help the grin stretching across her face. Old friends, indeed.

She takes a breath and grounds herself back to reality, reminded again of the point she was trying to make in the first place. “What I am trying to say is that it is so easy to get caught up in your own fears when it comes to matters of the heart. You get so scared that you are not enough, that you are going to upset whatever it is between you, and that when you inevitably mess it all up, and you will, that you are going to ruin the one good thing you have. So you lie to yourself that you do not have it and that it does not mean anything.”

“Are we talking about you or the petty officer now?”

“Both,” she answers with a hint of a wistful smile. McGee returns with his own expression of sympathy, fully aware of all those twists and turns that have led to where his friends are now.

The group sits in companionable silence for a spell, the weight of the week’s case lifting, only to be replaced with familiar exhaustion.

Ziva feels a buzz coming from her pocket, reminding her that, yes, these matters do come to a close somehow.

- Having fun on a school night?

- Going down memory lane with the team.

- The good ones, I hope?

- They are now. :-) Just about done, heading home soon.

- Can’t wait. Kiddo’s asleep. ;-) Love you.

McGee across the table notices the way her eyes crinkle as she glances at her screen. Once again, he is grateful for these small mercies they’ve been granted. How this story eventually got the happy ending it deserved.

“Well, this has been fun, but it is getting late and I should get home.” She pushes herself off the seat and grabs her coat, untangling her curls from the collar as she twists her arms through the sleeves. “I will see you all soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, I’m beat too,” Torres chimes in, “I’ll walk you out.”

The gang exchange goodnights and talk to you laters, with only the faintest of intrigue from Bishop as her partner, who is not known for his chivalrous nature, follows Ziva out the door.

Standing face to face now, at their full height, Ziva narrows her own eyes at the man, seeing right through him and daring him to come out with it, already.

“Ziva, what you said in there… Is that why you keep pushing me about Bishop?”

She stares at her feet for a second and breaks into a genuine grin now.

“Ah, he finally catches on.”

He breathes in, swallowing his nerves with every gulp of air reaching his lungs. She supposes it’s time to put him out of his misery.

“Look, Agent Torres, if there is anything I have learned throughout all of this, it is that time is the most precious resource we have. I know that it sounds like a cliché, believe me, but it is the truth. When I think about all the time Tony and I wasted over the years… It was not worth it.”

“Yeah, but it seems to have worked out, right?”

“Yes, it has,” she presses her lips together in a regretful smile. “But it very nearly did not. We missed out on so much, I missed out on so much, and it was all because I let fear get the best of me. I liked to tell myself that I was not scared of anything, when really, I was scared of everything.”

Torres absorbs the confession with appropriate gravity.

“Nick, do not let fear rule you. I promise you, whatever happens, taking that chance is worth the risk. I wish I had had the courage much sooner. It might have saved us all a lot of pain.”

He glances through the blinds in the window at the object of this discussion, only for Ellie to catch his eye at that moment. They each avert their gaze on opposite sides of the pane, feeling decidedly like the suspects they’ve just interrogated, without fully understanding why.

“What if I can’t do it?”

“You are a smart man. You will figure it out. You bested me, did you not?” It’s his turn to laugh, and she answers in turn. Maybe she has gotten through to him, after all.

She reaches out to gently pat his elbow. “Take care, Agent Torres.”

With that, she takes her leave and heads down the street towards her car, the heels of her boots clicking down the sidewalk with every step, leaving Nick to reflect on her words of wisdom. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure of how to proceed. With one last look into the bar, he turns in the opposite direction in search of his own vehicle, more confused than ever. Yet somehow he knows that the former agent is right.

What he doesn’t realize as he turns his back is that Bishop takes one last look at him, Ziva’s words ringing in her ears as well. That maybe blazing the road not travelled is not as scary as it may seem.

- Bishop, you’ve got a big mouth. See you tomorrow.

She grins at her phone in spite of herself. Maybe that’s a thought for another day.

#my fanfiction #ziva david #can i tag this as tiva fanfiction?#i mean not really cause they aren't technically there #but i mean everything i write is tiva lmao #i don't even know what this is but i blame all of you #also i don't know anything about torres and bishop #so i just made assumptions #🤷‍♀️

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cristalconnors · 5 years

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BEST ALBUMS OF 2019: TOP TEN

SPECIAL CITATIONS:

HOMECOMING: THE LIVE ALBUM, Beyoncé

The live album feels like a lost art form. Of late, many feel thrown together without much thought- an offering to the most ardent of fans about as meaningful as a gift card you’d give your coworker. Homecoming is the antithesis of that: a flawless documentation of Beyoncé’s benchmark live performance at the 2018 edition of the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival that is a staggering recontextualisation of her entire life’s work, dazzlingly criss-crossing her discography, offering rollicking, thoughtful new arrangements of classics and deep-cuts alike, filtered through the lens of HBCU marching band, playing like a half time show that goes on and on and on, offering the final, definitive evidence that Beyoncé is the greatest showman in modern history by leaps and bounds.

LEAK 04-13 (BAIT ONES), Jai Paul

Discovering Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones) sometime in the summer of 2013 was like being let in on a secret. I felt like the member of an exclusive club of people in-the-know, the possessor of a forbidden document that could only be discussed in hushed tones and accessed illegally. The circumstances of its arrival were uncertain. Had he leaked it purposefully? Were all of the songs really his? It didn’t even have a proper name (it would be christened Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones) many years later). The enthralling mystery of it was eclipsed only by the music itself. It sounded like you shouldn’t have been listening to it, a top secret transmission intercepted and compromised in the process. Its stunningly lush, busy textures were threadbare, pieces of the songs suddenly falling away only to reappear, as if you were streaming it and your internet connection was struggling to keep up. But that only contributed to the mystical grandeur of this earth shattering R&B that felt so purposeful, so impeccably sequenced (not by Jai), so bizarre and at times even funny, so much so that it was difficult to imagine how it could possibly be unfinished- it was perfect.

I don’t think I’d ever really understood how thoroughly devastating the leak was to Jai Paul himself until I read the lengthy note that accompanied his abrupt return on June 1st of this year, when he not only graced us with two stunning new tracks but properly released this album for the first time, a remarkable gesture of goodwill to his fans who gleefully partook in the stolen material, many without much regard to how it’d become available to them. Reading the letter, I felt guilty. The extent to which the leak derailed his career, demolished his trust in the institutions the industry is built on, compelled him to cast himself away from music entirely- his lifeline- and, in his own words, “withdraw from life in general” was genuinely heartbreaking. But the official release of the album that caused so much strife is the culmination of a years long journey of recovery, reconciliation, and growth. It’s a hard-earned reclamation of ownership that signals that Jai Paul, one of the most vital, distinct voices to emerge from the decade, is ready to get back on the horse. Look out.

THE TOP 10 ALBUMS OF 2019:

10. CALIGULA, Lingua Ignota

Caligula is maybe the most stunning document of feminine rage I’ve ever heard- an improbable synthesis of metal and opera imbued with biblical imagery and defined by language that’s as flowery as it is vicious (“may your own shame hang you / may dishonor drown you / may there be no kindness / no kindness / no kindness”). Kristin Hayter’s classically trained voice bends almost to the point of snapping, sometimes bringing her tongue to her soft palate to make a sound somewhere between a hum and a gurgle before launching into blood curdling shrieks as the music around her morphs as well, twinkling piano and organ giving way to billowing, thunderous guitar. It’s music that belongs in a symphony hall, if only they’d allow moshing.

09. SINNER, Moodymann

The songs on Sinner, Kenny Dixon, Jr.’s twelfth album as Moodymann, unspool on their own terms, continually mutating as they go on, shifting gears just when you think you’ve got a handle on them. His house isn’t very dense, but there’s always a remarkable amount of intrigue in his deceptively simple sound, evoking early 70′s R&B until strange idiosyncrasies pop out organically from the fabric of the song, pulling focus, reframing it as you’re listening to it. It’s strange, compelling stuff that beckons you to dive beneath its surface, promising you’ll find something new each time.

08. NO HOME RECORD, Kim Gordon

My favorite Sonic Youth songs were always the ones Kim Gordon did lead vocals on. Her hulking monotone was strangely captivating, even when it wasn’t clear what she was even talking about (which was most of the time.) No Home Record is a sublime capitalization and expansion of her power as a vocalist and writer, embracing those same abstract sensibilities that have defined her work for nearly 40 years but pushing them boldly into the future, crafting entrancing, often menacing sonic dreamscapes that are littered with oblique, powerfully resonant hints at the fruits of her near decade of self-discovery after divorcing Thurston Moore. It’s a debut decades in the making that shockingly reveals new, untapped powers from an indelible titan of rock we thought we’d had pegged.

07. HOUSE OF SUGAR, (Sandy) Alex G

Alex Giannascoli’s folk rock warps itself, intentionally obscuring textures and images in a convoluted effort to clarify the feeling behind them. It shouldn’t work but always does, and on House of Sugar, his eighth full-length effort in just nine years, he finds thrilling new power in simplicity and repetition, exemplified by the woozy abstract tapestry of songs like “Walk Away,” “Taking,” or “Near,” wringing a simple phrase, or even just a word, for everything it’s worth, repeating them over and over and over again to craft crystal clear images of longing and pain. But the more traditional songs are just as gripping, striking his strange balance between downtown and backwoods, crafting folk that emanates from deep in the soul and soars out into outer space.

06. BANDANA, Freddie Gibbs & Madlib

Freddie Gibbs and Madlib reunite on the most virtuosic rap album of the year, taking their unlikely marriage of gangster rap and delicately constructed, meditative beats that sound almost like memories to astonishing new heights. Gibbs grapples with personal demons- the lowest lows of his career, his ongoing relationship with drug abuse- but also flexes, showcasing his effortless flow as he flawlessly keeps pace with Madlib’s twisty production, navigating signature changes and tricky rhythms with ease, perfectly in concert with Madlib’s searching, soulful looping beats that envelop you, contorting right when you’ve settled into them. The collaboration keeps you on your toes, demanding your full attention as they whisk you through their kaleidoscopic vision of masterful, immersive rap.

05. ALL MIRRORS, Angel Olsen

The breakup album has never sounded so lush. Plenty can wax poetic about ridding themselves of toxic partners and of newfound freedom, but Angel Olsen tries to get to the heart of what it all meant, how she’d allowed herself to get lost in the relationship, forgetting herself. She makes the process sound luxurious, utilizing a 12-piece orchestra to inject a bolt of energy and welcome drama into her abstracted songwriting, embracing the darkness and working through it to find herself anew on the other side.

04. WHEN I GET HOME, Solange

When I Get Home sounds like you should be listening to it in a museum- and knowing Solange you’ll probably be able to at some point. Its heady sophistication is constantly announcing itself to you, but that’s not to say that it’s impenetrable. It’s her most personal effort, a surreal tour through the Houston of her memory and the Houston of her imagination, exploring the sounds she was reared on, but refracting them, embracing repetition to create a dreamlike, prismatic journey through her influences that, as Solange puts it, can’t be a singular expression of herself “there’s too many parts, too many spaces, too many manifestations, too many lines, too many curves, too many troubles, too many journeys, too many mountains, too many rivers, so many...”

03. NORMAN FUCKING ROCKWELL!, Lana Del Rey

Norman Fucking Rockwell! is Lana Del Rey’s victory lap, an amalgamation of everything she’s always done well packed into a sprawling 68 minute apocalyptic opus, invoking Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, and most memorably, Sublime while utilizing her trademark playful, disaffected word play to craft a soaring requiem for the world as we know it. “L.A.’s in flames” and who cares when there’s a good time to be had? It’s a stunning “fuck you” to an industry and populace that dismissed her viciously when she arrived on the scene, forging her masterpiece on her own terms.

02. U.F.O.F., Big Thief

U.F.O.F. evokes the sensation of reaching out and attempting to make a connection- a connection with another realm, with the dead, with alien life, with a distant lover. The music is open and searching, and to hear the band talk about the process of writing and recording it, this spirit of experimentation was present in the studio. They’d tinker with instruments none of them knew how to play, hoping whatever they could coax out of it might speak to the ethereal textures and opaque poetry of the music they were working on. The result is a ghostly folk masterclass that launches Big Thief into the stratosphere as they work seamlessly in tandem to craft music that touches God.

01. TITANIC RISING, Weyes Blood

Struggling to cope with a world on the precipice of collapse, Natalie Mering looks backward, invoking the baroque pop of the 1970′s to search for solace in the stars or the arms of another, like Karen Carpenter scrolling through Tinder or Co-Star. But trying to stave herself away in the past only finds herself submerged in her childhood bedroom. So she bolts forward, utilizing familiar frameworks to craft stunningly lush, contemporary and urgent pop that grapples with crises both personal and apocalyptic with an optimism that feels not naive but like a vital lifeline, like a hand reaching out in the darkness to pull you to safety. It may be a futile gesture, but at the end of a decade that’s abruptly descended into a hellscape, it’s a call to keep the faith and forge on.

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andymull · 5 years

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AEW Full Gear 2019 – Preview & Predictions

Cody vs Chris Jericho (c) – AEW World Championship Match

This match also now has the added stipulation that if Cody loses he can never go for the world title again………..smells like a screwy finish to me, more later.

Such a well built and enjoyable feud between these guys, Cody played a clever stroke when AEW started putting on shows by letting Omega go for the title first then Hangman Page. Knowing that Jericho was going to be a dominant champion for awhile he instead wrestled just out of sight of the title knocking up win after win, and when this company is trying to be known as one that runs with its records it made a lot of sense for him to do so. Not being cynical or having a crazy theory but both Omega and Page have had to take backwards steps slightly because of that whereas Cody has been able to stride forward once the tv deal began and now finds his-self in the spot of spots.

Jericho has again been able to re-invent his-self again in his career as le champion and the leader of the Inner Circle (still not sure about that tbh), he’s worked well to get over a new finisher with the Judas Elbow too.

With the added stipulation I see this coming down to Cody having the match won after the Inner Circle and The Elite try to interfere and end up causing a big riot at ringside, this results in Cody having Jericho ready to hit his finisher when Hangman Page turns on Cody letting Jericho retain. They have been playing it up on Being The Elite for awhile now with Page feeling left adrift slightly from the rest of the group, with Cody and others trying to bring him back into the fold but I see this being his hook to turn holding it over all of the Elite. The popular option of who to turn would be MJF, but truthfully ITS TOO OBVIOUS!!!! They have to see that already and realise they need to hold it off for as long as possible, then twist it and either have Cody catch him mid turn OR even have Cody turn on him first…..but that’s for later – CODY

Jon Moxley vs Kenny Omega – Lights Out Match

Another lights out match? Ok

Still not sure if I like these guys together, they’ve had some fun angles but clicking in-ring for me is still to be seen. They’ve tried to hold off with Mox as much as possible so as to not burn out certain matches which is clever, but at the same time it feels like there should have been more to this feud before the big match.

They’ve ran the story of Kenny losing the title match but now has finally started to get his mojo back, but I don’t feel he’s winning tonight sadly and its going to hurt again as people were/are expecting him to be the main guy in the company from the get go having the best matches weekly. Its just not plausible though is it? You cant run everything from the beginning of your tv deal, some ideas have to be held back and paced out, and the main one is Kenny being the best in the world. The time will come, no doubts about that, and it will be great but it will be a bumpy road ahead for alittle while yet…………….then we’ll be talking about is it possible to reach the heights of the last few years in New Japan against Okada with the talent they have in AEW? Definite thing to write about in the future.

Im going to be going with Mox taking the win tonight and setting his-self up for the next title feud against Jericho, hopefully they book it well so that the crowd don’t turn too much on Omega not winning – MOXLEY

Riho (c) vs Emi Sakura – AEW Women’s World Championship

The teacher vs the student, just a shame the company haven’t been drilling this match and story the past few weeks and instead it felt like a rushed match for the PPV.

Should be a fun match with two women who know each other inside out and should have a PPV caliber match in mind for this perfectly – RIHO

Proud -N- Powerful vs The Young Bucks

This should be an excellent match between two great teams, I don’t think this will be the last of their bouts while the two groups feud but hopefully the Bucks allow themselves to take the victory tonight – YOUNG BUCKS

Hangman Page vs Pac

The rubber match between the two finally takes place, just a shame that the feud has died slightly from where it was before the Pac situation of not coming in previously to lose while champion in Dragon Gate. Currently Pac has gone from strength to strength on tv with his win record while Page has stumbled in his attempt to be the young rising star that AEW will create from the go.

As I mentioned previously I see Page turning in the main event and to add another added level to his turning will be him losing here, it then allows him to say that no-one came to help him in this match whereas The Elite will end up ringside in the title match to help Cody.

Pac will take the victory, not sure where he goes next, potentially Omega? – PAC

The Lucha Bros vs SCU (c) vs Private Party

Three fun teams should make for a really fun match, probably EXTREMELY spotty but who cares.

No chance the titles change hands already so SCU retain, ill take them to pin one of Private Party to win and hopefully not the Lucha Bros as they’ve lost enough – SCU

Shawn Spears vs Joey Janela

Really not looking forward to this, Spears has looked very average since coming in having competitive matches recently with guys he should have run through to build him up. While Janela’s record isn’t that good and is more of a hardcore guy not a guy able to go higher than 3 stars in a solid wrestling match (though is trying very hard to improve, see the Omega 2nd match).

Have to imagine that Spears goes over and most likely sets up a series with MJF once he’s fully fit for action, but man he’s dropped since debuting against his friend Cody and clocked him with that chair, they said it wasn’t his fault it was the chair but the lack of a push didn’t seem that way….who knows – SPEARS

Britt Baker vs Bea Priestley – Buy In Match

Poor Britt has really taken a beating on social media with how much she’s been pushed since debuting (did you know she’s a Dentist?) and Bea hasn’t been around weekly I don’t think to be able to really push this feud. After Bea had alittle brawl with Sadie Gibbs backstage then followed that up with being super stiff and awkward in her match after im still to be convinced they really want to push her fully yet. And truthfully this being put on the Buy In show kinda shows their ideas for both girls sadly/currently. Britt needs alittle time off of Dynamite to have afew wins on AEW Dark then return back up later (Did I mention she’s a qualified Dentist?) - BAKER

Have to imagine they have another big match or two on the Buy In show as well to get guys a pay day.

Should be a real fun show, hopefully it doesn't go on too long on PPV but as long as the big names get time then great

Bye for now

Andy

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genethequeen · 6 years

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| SUMMER LOVIN | (Roger Taylor Smut)

request: none ( :') )

synopsis: you're visiting your cousin, John Deacon, after finally graduating high school. you definitely hit it off with a certain blond drummer.

pairings: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x f!reader

warnings: i mean,,, it's steamy and strange, like it’s a smut man so 18+ even though i was reading these when i was 13.

a/n: so I wrote this a million years ago with Maurice Gibb in mind (I know leave me alone) but yeah. im a virgin --- love that for myself --- so have a virgin written smut :))) maybe listen to the beatles or the bee gees or even the beach boys when reading?

timeline: whack

character accuracy: whack

The heavy air of the summer attempted to weigh down your excitement as you practically danced to find your cousin in the crowd on the boardwalk. Despite the heat, everyone had come out for the festivals and series of concerts accompanying the rides near the water. You couldn’t deny the liberated feeling you possessed since finally finishing high school a few weeks prior, and coming to visit your cousin had been what was pushing you to finish out. Rollerbladers in colorful patterns and sunglasses skated past you alongside businessmen in fedoras and ties as you took in the life of the boardwalk.

You jumped slightly, spotting your cousin in a grouping of a few other boys. You waved an arm in the air as you neared them, capturing his attention as well. He came forward to close most of the distance, hugging you tightly. He threw an arm around your shoulders while the both of you talked a mile a minute, trying to get everything in from last Christmas until now as you made your way back to his group.

“But the thing is-”

“No Aunt Suzie made it clear about-”

“Deac, high school was a waste-”

“It’s a new song-”

It seemed that the two of you were telling five stories at once to the outsiders, but you both clearly knew what the other was saying. You stopped short as you finally looked up at the four other boys, eyes landing on one in particular with a slightly unbuttoned shirt and curious eyes.

“This is my cousin, guys. She’s from upstate.” Deacon gestured to you under his arm and quickly said the names of the other boys, but you really only picked up Brian and Freddy, the other two names were muddled in John’s accent. Deacon began to congregate with the taller man of the bunch while you stood beside the blond boy you grew to know as Roger.

The blond boy turned to you slightly as the three of you leaned against the railing surrounding the boardwalk. “So, how old are you?”

“Does it matter, Roger?” Brian spoke up, flicking his cigarette into the water and sending the Roger boy a joking smirk. “You’re going to hit on her nonetheless.” You rose an eyebrow at the confident blond as Brian then slinked away while shaking his head. “How long are you staying with John?” He asked. You looked up at him with wandering eyes, taking in his appearance the most you could. He couldn’t have been more than a year older than you were.

“Uh, just for the summer. We’ve always planned that I’d come see him after graduation.” You straightened up, pacing to stand in front of him. He was leaning just far enough that the two of you were the same height. His shirt collar moved slightly in the wind. “You in the band, too?” You were nervous about his response, knowing that your teenage heart would melt into a pile of mercury if his answer was just right.

He smirked at you. “No, their music sucks.” You laughed at his remark and he stood also, fixing his shirt. “I play drums a bit.” As his hands landed on his hips, you noticed just how big they were, meaning he could probably play pretty well.

“Come on, kids. We have shit to do,” Freddy snapped at the two of you, sending Roger into an eye-roll.

“Big schedule?” You lowly asked Roger.

He nodded. “Oh yeah, strategic bathroom breaks and making sure Freddy gets his funnel cakes on time―very important.” Deacon looked back over his shoulder, making sure you were following the group.

You were giddy, getting on ride after ride, being let in on inside jokes between the guys, and learning how much of a primadonna Brian actually was, all while staying close to Roger’s side, holding his hand on and off again. After the bumper cars resulted in a quarrel between Roger and Freddy, the group b-lined for the Spook House ride. The loud, pulsating music of the Beach Boys from the nearby Matterhorn melded with pleasured screams as Freddy attempted to divvy up the group into who was riding with who, but everyone shook him off instead. While you all made it to the front of the line, Roger filed into one of the carts with you, wrapping his arm around the back of your section of the cart and pulling the safety bar over the two of you. You sat forward a bit, pushing your shirt down slightly, attempting to keep his attention on you.

"You think Freddy likes me?” You joked, looking at him with big eyes, causing the boy to bite back a chuckle.

“He’d be crazy not to be in love with you by now.” He flashed you a smile.

“How charming,” you quipped as the ride jerked to a start. You sat close to him so your legs were against each other. A mummy leaned forward, almost falling off the wall as the “Addams Family” theme song tried to set a Halloween mood. The both of you laughed.

Roger wet his lips next to you and you couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him. He seemed fidgety in the close proximity to you. “So,” his blue eyes traced over you. “You’re staying all summer?” You could easily lean an inch and kiss him. He seemed to notice too, tightening his arm around you.

“Can we skip the small talk?” You requested, triggering his sudden actions. His hand instantly braced the back of your neck, closing the gap between the two of you. You fisted the front of his shirt as his lips moved against yours, literally taking your breath away. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip as if by instinct paired with his fingers tangling in the ends of your hair, near the collar of your shirt, dangerously close to your breasts. You never wanted him to stop touching you. The ride ended quickly, much to your disappointment. You sat away from each other as the blinding sun came into view, along with the loud bustling of the boardwalk.

“I don’t see what the craze is about that ride,” Deacon griped as the group migrated. A murmur of agreement rippled over the boys, but you remained silent, slightly stunned at what had just happened and how you wanted it to go further.

Roger walked beside you, smirking to himself. “I didn’t think it was that bad.” Parts of your boardwalk adventure separated you from Roger, giving you a slight pang of envy at whoever was with him when you weren’t. Did that make you crazy? You didn’t care. Finally, he swatted off Freddy and grabbed your hand, pulling you into a Scrambler cart with him.

“Have fun with Fred?” You implored, trying to hide how much it affected you to be this close to him.

“You have some serious competition, love,” he leered. As the ride began, his hand left yours only to land on the inside of your thigh close to the bottom hem of your shorts. Your breath caught in your throat as you snapped your eyes up to his. The ride began to spin in circles, sending everyone into a fit of giggles, but you could only focus on was the position of his hand.

You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the water drip into the sink in your adjacent bathroom and to John’s distant phone conversation from the other side of the house. You couldn’t get your mind off of Roger, and couldn’t fight the flush that came to your cheeks thinking about his grin or his voice, maybe even when you thought of the veins in his hands. A small tapping at your window startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. You stood slowly, making your way across the room and pulling back the curtain to reveal Roger with a handful of pebbles just beneath your flower box in the moonlight. You nodded for him to come to the front door and rushed down the hall to greet him. You held your breath as you lifted the latch, hoping it wouldn’t click loud enough for John to hear. You thanked whatever higher power that John was on the top floor.

You practically yanked Roger into the house and then to your room. His hands wrapped around you, pushing you against your door as he trapped your lips in a deep kiss. You instantly pulled his shirt over his head and went for his belt buckle. After skillfully removing your nightgown, he hooked his hands beneath your thighs and lifted you up, moving across the room to the bed. You sat on your knees, pulling his pants the rest of the way off before he climbed over you. “Where’s Deaky?” He whispered against your neck, already sucking at the tender skin.

“Upstairs. Best be quiet, Rog.” He chuckled, his warm breath falling over the coldness of your now wet skin, sending an enticing shiver across your body. The thin fabric of his boxers hid none of his excitement pressing against your leg. He kissed you again, beginning to rock his hips against yours, eliciting a small moan to escape your lips in pleasure. His fingers brushed your side slowly, taking note of every goosebump they drew out, grazing until landing just before your panties. His mouth left yours as he peppered your shoulders with lingering kisses, his fingers now just over your entrance, gingerly rubbing circles to arouse the growing sensation in your lower region. One of your arms hooked over the arm holding him up, positioned to the left of your head, while your other hand coiled in his hair.

“You’re already wet. Were you waiting for me?” He questioned gruffly against your ear. He stood momentarily, sliding off your underwear and pushing his off, dipping back down to cover your body with his again. He entered you slowly, teasing you with steady strokes, making you squirm with pleasure. One of his hands held tightly onto the sheets while the other graced over your sides. As his lips met your neck, barely touching you and making your head fall back.

You moaned quietly as he kissed behind your ear. “Roger, faster,” you practically begged. He let out a husky chuckled and slowly picked up his pace with your fingers digging into his back. You hummed again.

The floorboard above you creaked, making the both of you freeze. “It’s the house,” you assured, hoping John wasn’t up still. You pushed Roger over and he pulled you on top of him. You moved your hips against his, leaning forward to kiss him briefly as his hands ran down your back and up to your neck. He smirked momentarily at you above him. The ends of your hair brushed against his chest slightly and you bent down to kiss his collarbones, causing him to moan. The floorboards creaked loudly in a distant part of the house. The both of you froze once again as you quickly covered his mouth. Roger waited for it to go silent again before taking control. With you on your back again, he tightly held onto you, moving with you, bringing the two of you closer to release. Muffled moans blended together quietly before Roger withdrew from you, releasing.

He fell onto the bed next to you as you wrapped the blankets around the two of you. He pulled you closer to him, putting an arm behind your head. The both of you looked up at the ceiling, listening to the crickets outside. After you turned to put your head on his chest, throwing your arm over his body, he took your hand in his, looking at it in the moonlight.

“So you’re staying all summer?” he affirmed.

You chuckled slightly and nodded. “Unless John gets tired of me.”

“Good,” he hummed.

lemme know if you barfed because i felt uncomfy yet would definitely write more of these :)

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incarnateirony · 5 years

Note

How do you know so much about all the behind-the-scenes/behind-the-curtain stuff of the film industry such as talent agencies and management agencies etc.?

Eh, technically anyone CAN access most of this. IMDBPro for example. It’s not like the highest highest le-high of highness information but it’s functionally a valid resource, a lot of agencies use imdbpro for various casting and such. There’s also other compendiums that have deeper or more thorough information that can be purchased for… a lot of money, but I don’t want to act like some shadow insider and pretend like imdbfuckingpro isn’t out there. It costs money. It probably serves you no purpose, and I absolutely do not suggest buying it just to bug representatives because I promise you, you’ll get ignored unless you know how to catch reps ears and have an actual objective.

Now, that giant disclaimer aside, I have imdbpro for reasons. I haven’t been a media assistant for a great many years, but it kinda rolled over, then casually rolled into when I did interviews and PR for another CW show about a year ago, and continues to casually roll. I may be disabled and largely just not-working but it’s still fun to poke around and look at sometimes.

WRT the guys, and noticing the agency change, when doing said CW stuff I went through a period of updating my contact info for just about everyone on the CW and a few other shows/networks, @casgirlsam and some others helped me sort that out. We worked on the same little team at that point and on fronts like that she technically has all the same access. Shit I think she even has the login creds to my imdbpro since that was all in the same team drive. Like if anyone remembers that Kevin McNally interview (POTC Gibbs, SPN Frank) where he spilled that Jensen seems to be afraid of heights, or that people misunderstood his being “unavailable to return” (he was and wanted to come back) by sort of fandom editorialization, that came from the same period, because Kevin was working elsewhere on the CW at that point.

I really had no interest in trying to bug about Supernatural, it was already well covered, but I thought everything from the guys to the authors/showrunners/etc might Eventually Come In Handy Some Day Maybe. So I looked at it last around then.

WRT just How Shit Works In General… general exposure. General experience. An array of stuff ironically just outside of SPN itself, be it other CW shows or movies or music industry or indie stuff, about ten years of my life shakes out generally over a spread of that. Just not for some years.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Approaching Countdown.”

Had to write this at work today, so sorry it is short.

The GA chairwoman stood in the oppressive muggy heart of Earth. She really hated it, it made her skin itch and her eyes sting, there wasn’t enough water in their atmosphere to actually cause her any harm, but there was definitely enough of it to make her very uncomfortable. A part of her had hoped that it might rain, forcing her to stay off world for the weather formation, but these humans knew what they were doing and had scheduled the launch for a cloudless day.

She looked up at the yellow earth sun and sighed. The humans had been very excited to invite the GA delegations out to view the launch. Humans were generally very excited to show anyone they could their dangerous past, and looking at the thing that was passing for a spaceship, she could not see how it would get more than a few inches off the ground, much less out of orbit. Supposedly they had dipped into very rare rocket fuel reserves to even do this as it required fossil fuel.

Fossil Fuel!

Let that sink in for a moment.

Liquified dead plant and animal remains mixed with liquid oxygen and some sort of oxidizer. She wasn’t sure what that last part meant, she wasn’t a rocket scientist. She sighed again, personally she wished she didn’t have to be here, for she doubted the launch was going to go as the human expected. In all reality her nerves were shot and she wished that she could just pass out for the next few hours and forget where she was. Everything was out of her hands anyway. Her orders had been given and now all she could do was wait.

She stood in the heat not too distant from her array of human bodyguards,dressed in dark suits and wearing dark glasses to cover their eyes. Somehow they managed to look more intimidating than normal humans did frowning, missing the characteristic tooty smile she had grown to associate with humans.

Shehad spent far too much time with Admiral Vir it seemed.

She sighed at the thought of him and shook her head.

Every time she tried to think about something else, it just circled back around to him. She tried not to think about it, taking a very deep breath.

There was some shuffling behind her and she turned slowly on her knuckles feeling the concrete grinding below her hands as she did. Two Tesraki and one other Rundi stood behind her having been let through by the human guards, who still eyed them with some measure of suspicion.

“Everything is in place, Chancellor.”

She nodded her head once.

“How many?”

There are at least thirty patrolling the borders of the trajectory zone. They will know as soon as he breaches orbit.

“And our engineers?”

“We are having trouble gaining access, but we are still working on it.”

“You better hope that we can.”

She lifted her head towards the sky where she could see the faint line of the moon against the blueness of the sky.

“We better hope.”

***

Captain Richard’s palms were very sweaty. He tried to wipe them discreetly on his pants or more accurately a onesie the scientists were calling a “Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment. So like a Onesie with tubes in it. He glanced sidelong over to where Admiral Vir was sitting staring at the antique space suit equipment laid out before them.

He tried not to make it look like he was staring, but he totally was.

Admiral Vir wasn’t much older than him, maybe by a year or two, but that was part of what made being in the same room with him so strange. Every time he, or probably anyone, though of an admiral, they generally thought of some stuffy grey haired fat guy who sat behind a desk and gave orders. But…. this guy…. Well he was nothing like that at all. He was young and stupidly fit, and sure he had some white hair appearing at his temples, but his hair was blond enough you only noticed it in certain light.

And he was very personable, that was the first thing Richards had noticed.

The man knew how to work a room. He was funny, and despite being intimidated by his status, he found himself forgetting constantly that this guy wasn’t someone cool he had just met out at the bar.

As if he could sense someone looking at him, Admiral Vir turned around theappriture of his mechanical eye adjusting slightly. He grinned in a very un-admiral way, “This is so friggin awesome.” The man looked like he was about to jump out of his boots, “Just look at this stuff-” He grinned some more dancing from one foot to the other, “Happiest damn day of my life and I’m wearing a diaper.”

That got the rest of the shuttle crew laughing which then devolved into a discussion about the pros and cons of diapers versus the new suit catheters. There was a surprising split on the discussion as the group of men talked, a conversation that was only broken as a group of scientists stepped in to help them with their suits. The process was rather tedious, the suits were bulky and cumbersome, nothing like the neat, sleek and comfortable suits used on regular ships.

Stepping into the pants of the suit they had to hold their arms up as the upper portion was lowered into place over their heads while others hurried in to pull on their arms and then help them fit into the gloves. He ducked his head as the communications cap was placed over his head. They would be wearing the full suit into orbit, though they would be allowed to take it off on the journey over. A journey which would take roughly three days or more to complete. One of them would stay in orbit while Admiral Vir and Richards himself took the lunar module down to the surface.

It was all supposed to go very smoothly from here.

Once suited up he couldn’t help but be reminded of when he was a child ready to go sledding with his siblings, in his massive snow pants and puffy jacket, waddling across the floor with his arms held out to either side.

He honestly hoped he looked cooler than he felt.

Admiral Vir might have been able to pull it off if he wasn’t nearly skipping, which seemed pretty improbable in the massive ass snowman suit.

Glancing out the long windows and into the horizon, he could see crowds of people set up in the distance. Head was a teenager when the Enterprise Launched, standing in an awed crowd as the massive behemoth hauled herself into the sky. He remembered the thrill, and he remembered the fear as he watched it go higher and higher and higher.

He remembered that day as one that led him to where he was now, and couldn’t believe it.

***

The UN president stood at her lectern feeling a soft breeze blow through her hair. Today was a good day, or at least it was shaping up to be a good day. She had two folders sitting under the lectern like she always did during times like this. One of them was green and one of them was red.

The red one was sitting on top.

She glanced over to where the GA president stood and scowled slightly. She had always thought the little creature was kind of ugly looking like an ant. She had never liked bugs, or bug like things of any kind, which she found to be a common trait among aliens, Drev, Vrul, Gibb, Rundi, Burg.

She looked up at the sky neck stretched out sunning herself in the bright morning.

She could see the rocket in the distance held up on its platform. Admiral Vir would be moving into place now. Most people would see this only as some sort of historical recreation act, but PR analytics suggested that, if the Admiral succeeded, approval rating in the GA would go up almost 3 percent. Human and alien relations had been rockier than most people would like to admit. If Admiral Vir were to fail, the failure would likely shock the aliens senseless, and if he died. It could completely break down human/alien relations for the foreseeable future.

They were on the cusp of cooperation or war, and any single event could push them in that direction.

Relations might have already broken down if it wasn’t for Admiral Vir.

The president reached down a hand brushing the tips of her fingers over the red folder.

***

Jade examined the rocket from the inside of her decontaminated engineer’s suit. She was busy going over final checks before the craft was launched. Personally she thought it was a bad idea. There was no reason to go and do something so dumb when they had perfectly viable technologies available at their fingertips. Of course, she understood the value and importance of major historical events, but that didn’t mean they had to reenact them. I mean it's not like anyone ever wanted toreinaced the titanic or the Berlin wall, or burning down the library of Alexandria, but for some reason some yahoos wanted to strap themselves to a rocket inside a tin can and fly into space.

Using the same EXACT design from TWO THOUSAND years ago.

Might as well start using steam locomotives to get around.

She inched her way along the scaffolding catwalk just a few hundred feet in the air. She didn’t mind heights, butcher wasn’t stupid, and would enver risk herself unecissarily. She examined the bolts holding the ship together passing a critical eye over each and every one of them. If just a single one of them got loose, it might potentially pull the whole panel off. If that happened, the launch trajectory might destabilize and they could begin to spin into the ground and explode.

Off in the distance she heard an alarm calling her down from above.

She would need to leave soon, and so tucked her clipboard under one arm and began to climb down one of the ladders towards the distant ground.

It was then that she noticed something strange. She didn’t know why she noticed it, it was so small, and she was in a hurry but…. There was something…. Strange. She glanced over and squinted towards the strange reflection.

The siren continued to blare.

She should really go.

She started to descend but then.

“You might want to check that again.”

She nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice turning on the spot and pitching ackwards with wide open eyes nearly falling over the rail as she came face to face with a porcelain white face and wide black eyes like pools of onyx. For a second she almost screamed assuming she had gone insane, but then paused as she saw the figure floating before her a gravity belt around it’s waist, and hundreds of white ribbons streaming from it’s back.

A starborn!

She had seen a documentary mentioning them, even with a few images, so she knew who it was. She also knew that they could read minds.

It wasn’t supposed to be able to speak, but this one was wearing translation gloves, and spoke sign language rather fluently.

“You might want to check again.” It repeated

“But I-”

“The Admiral is expecting an attempt on his life, and the best way to do it would be to sabotage the shuttle. You will want to help me because if the Admiral dies, my daughter will be very upset.”

She opened her mouth then closed it, not sure how to respond but eventually turned back to the shuttle and leaned forward pointing to the side of the rocket, “That, right there, can you float over and take a look. The creature floated past her, billowing like smoke as he eased over. He pointed, “This?”

“Yes.”

He touched it.

“Can you feel it/” She wondered.

“It doesn't feel like the rest of the ship though I cannot say how.”

“Keep looking around, I need to call in-”

“NO!”

She frowned hand halfway to her mic.

“Don’t tell them, we don’t want them to know that we have found anything.

She wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t feel like pissing this thing off, so reached to her mic, “Mission control this is Engineering, i'll need a postpone on the launch while I finish off my checklist. This is taking longer than I anticipated.”

“Roger that.” mission control responded.

The sirens stopped a moment later as she urged the Starborn forward to prod at the spot. There wasa soft peeling noise, and after a moment, she watched as the creature came away with a strip of tape.

He floated over to her and she examined it. That shouldn’t have been there, this was not the heat resistant sort of tape they used, and it certainly wasn’t something they would have bothered to put on the outside of a ship. The only thing it seemed to do was match the paint color.

She leaned forward glancing at the side of the shi. If this had gone up during exit it would have burned off, and that would reveal.

The loose bolt underneath. Just like she feared.

She could fix it and ordered the starborn to do so following the instructions in her head. After that she ordered him to take her vest camera and fly around the outside of the rocket. She had noticed based on the way the light interacted with the tape as compared to the finish of the rocket’s exterior.

If only she had someone who was good at distinguishing subtle color, and then she remembered.

She called the starborn back.

“Go, get a Drev and hurry back here. I’ll try to stall them.”

215 notes · View notes

ironarrow87 · 6 years

Text

NCIS One Shot: Occam’s Razor

Summary: DiNozzo doesn't usually tell his boss what to do, but he feels that Gibbs should tell you how he feels before its too late. Will Gibbs take his advice?

Word Count: 3k

Song: Prodigal by OneRepublic

Warnings: Angst...sadness probably...some brief gore

Notes: One taught me love, one taught me patience, and one taught me pain.

Occam’s Razor is defined as a rule used in both science and philosophy that suggests that the multiplication of entities leads to unlikely occurrences. In other words, the more assumptions that are made to reach a conclusion, the more unlikely the explanation will be. The least amount of speculation, or the simplest explanation, is often what will lead to the realest and truest result. It is as easy as going from point A to point B.

But-

Life doesn’t move in a straight line, does it?

We say good-bye

I turn my back

At the very least, Gibbs has not fired you yet.

‘Yet’ being the key word.

He had expressly and explicitly told the team not to get involved in the case. It was too dangerous, and he was unwilling to lose a member of the team.

“Do not get involved.” He was warning them, but it sounded like a threat. His blue eyes skim the team, but they land harshly on your face. “Is that understood?”

The rest of the team murmurs agreements of “Yes, boss” and “Yes, sir”, but you haven’t said a word.

His eyes narrow. “[Y/N]? Is that understood?” Gibbs almost sounds angry with the amount of force he puts into his words.

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I-”

“Ah, [Y/N], there you are. Are you ready?”

Gibbs turns sharply to face the Director coming down the stairs. “Ready? Ready for what?”

The Director raises an eyebrow at you before answering him slowly. “She’s going undercover in your current case.”

You don’t even have the chance to open your mouth when Gibbs answers, “The hell she is. Find someone else for the role.”

Vance does not look amused at the rudeness Gibbs is giving him. “[Y/N] is a grown adult and agent capable of making her own decisions.”

“I don’t care. She’s part of my team, therefore it's my decision.”

Vance doesn’t take to Gibbs’s challenge to power very well. He draws himself to full height, already towering from his place on the stairs. “And I oversee your entire team. [Y/N] is doing this, whether you like it or not, Gibbs.” He turns, going back up the stairs. “Come along, [Y/N].”

You swallow, heart rate through the roof, and the entire floor’s eyes on you. You move slowly to the stairs. Gibbs grabs your arm, his voice a bit growly and a bit hoarse. “Reconsider this. It’s a dangerous mission. You may not survive.”

You shrink under his gaze, which seems to be a cross between pleading and fury. “I...I...those kids, Gibbs. They’re in trouble. And I fit the description for the necessary role…” you manage to squeak out.

He lets go. He understands. But he doesn’t.

He wishes he didn’t have to watch you disappear into the Director’s office.

Run away, run away

So predictable

Gibbs kicks his desk in anger once you’re out of sight. The rest of the team doesn’t cower away per say, but they do try to keep out of Gibbs’s way. When he glances up and sees them, he gives a heavy sigh.

“Make sure you can give her all the support and help she can get. Make sure she’s over prepared.”

The team stares at him, unsure. “Go!” he barks at them. They all scurry off, and Gibbs stalks to an empty break room.

He takes a deep breath and throws an empty cup at the wall.

It doesn’t help him feel better. He rests his hands on the table in front of him and lets his head hang a bit, breathing in and out.

“Boss?”

He closes his eyes briefly before answering quietly. “What is it, DiNozzo?” There’s a brief hesitancy in DiNozzo’s demeanor that makes Gibbs’s irritation spike a bit. “Well?”

DiNozzo all but blurts out, “I think you should tell her, boss.”

Gibbs looks up at him, frustration rising. “Tell her what, DiNozzo?”

DiNozzo is just looking at him with sympathy now, his voice softer. “You know what, Boss. We can see the way you look at her.”

Gibbs’s eyes narrow. “I-”

DiNozzo cuts him off, backing out of the room, hands raised in surrender. “We just want to see you happy. Just...make sure you tell her before it's too late.”

Gibbs throws another cup at the wall when he’s gone.

Not far from here

You see me crack

To say this mission was dangerous was an understatement. You had freed the kids, and in return, you have been shackled to an unknown cellar floor.

You’re dehydrated. Tired. In pain from the gunshot wound you sustained. Your lips are so cracked, they’ve bled and then dried because of the lack of water.

You can barely feel the gunshot wound anymore. The pain was so sharp and intense the first couple days. Then it became a dull ache.

Now it just twinges now and then. Unless one of your captures decide you’re misbehaving, or giving attitude, or just breathing the wrong way, and they dig their fingers into your wound until you’re screaming in pain all over again.

You suppose you should be worried about the numbness of the wound. Your trained background gives you the knowledge that infection is likely, blood loss is major, and lack of fluid is putting you at high chances of not making it.

Still, you hope Gibbs will come find you just to give you a smack upside your head and tell you how much of an idiot you were.

Damn, what you’d do for that right now.

Darkness consumes your vision and gives you brief sweet relief.

Like a bone, like a bone

I'm so breakable

When you open your eyes, you’re aware that you’re moving. Everything is blurry but you can hear the wailing of sirens so close that you must be inside an ambulance. The sound hurts your head, and you try to cover your ears only to find your hands have been strapped down in a stretcher. You give the smallest whine.

There’s a feeling of gentle hands covering your ears, and your eyes swing to your savior. Your vision is still too blurry, and you can’t tell if you have blood in your eyes or the dehydration has messed with your sight, but even now you can tell that the man is Gibbs sitting beside you.

You try moving your tongue in your mouth to form words, but it doesn’t agree with your plan.

“[Y/N] I need to tell you something.” You make a sound to let him know you’re listening. He hesitates, and then. “I was scared we were going to be too late.”

You shake your head as much as you can. He continues. “DiNozzo told me that...that I should tell you how I feel before it's too late…”

Your eyebrows furrow, a loud ringing in your ears drowning out everything else. You can see the blurry figure of Gibbs stand and maybe he’s yelling for some help, you can’t tell.

You can just make out Gibbs’s low voice in your ear soon after, and it helps you drift back off into the darkness.

And I take everything from you

But you'll take anything

Beep, beep, beep. You feel a lot better, the slow incessant beeping of the heart monitor filling the room.

You groan. There’s an immediately shuffling beside you that puts you on guard.

“Hey,” says the quiet voice.

You relax. “Gibbs..”

“In the flesh.”

You give him a small smile and then look down at yourself, surveying the damage.

He offers you your chart quietly.

You take it with a small smile. “Thank you.” Skimming the chart, it tells you nothing you already figured out for yourself.

“Did you happen to hear what I said in the ambulance?”

You look up from your chart, shaking your head slowly.

He nods, briefly closing his eyes. “Can I tell you again?”

You nod, eyebrows furrowing again when he comes closer and covers your hands with his. They’re warm.

“I..like you, [Y/N].”

You blink, startled, cheeks going red. “Like me?”

His ears are red, nodding in agreement, seemingly rendering himself mute after putting his energy into admitting it to you.

You grip his hands. “I like you, too.”

Won't you?

Aches wake you from your slumber. You yawn softly, sitting up from the bed. Pain shoots through your stomach, and you give a sharp cry.

Gibbs is immediately at your side. “Hey, easy there.” He helps you sit up against your pillows. Sitting up, you can see that there are flowers near the window, a bunch of them probably from the team.

“Thank you,” you say sheepishly. He reaches over and pulls a tray to you. You look down at the most fantastic array of breakfast foods in front of you.

In fact, a lot of it was stuff you loved.

“How did you…?”

Gibbs looks embarrassed again. “Ah...I noticed what stuff you eat on early morning cases.”

You redden. “Oh.”

Run away, run away

Like a prodigal

Bouncing from foot to foot by your door, the first date you have with Gibbs makes you feel insanely nervous. You don’t understand why you’re feeling this way when you’ve worked with the man for years now, but you still squeeze the hem of your dress while waiting for him to pick you up.

He comes exactly at 7, and brings you out to a fancy restaurant. Waiting there for you is a bouquet of roses. They smell heavenly and you thank him profusely.

All he can do is smile softly.

He looks and talks like a perfect gentleman. Gibbs even pulls out your chair so you can sit.

He’s almost completely different from work, yet exactly the same. Your mind is spinning in so many different ways as he kisses you for the first time.

But it's not as dizzying as the first time your lips form his first name aloud.

“Jethro.”

Don't you wait for me

A ray of sunshine shining down on your eyes from between the window blinds make you wake up. You stir, turning away from the window with a groan.

A warm chuckle greets you, and you grumpily peer at him. “It's not funny.”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why did you laugh?”

“Won’t happen again.”

You give Gibbs a small smile, sitting up, gazing at the roses by the window. “They’re my favorite.”

His blue eyes follow your line of sight, and he smiles.

“I know.”

So ashamed, so ashamed

But I need you so

“Busy.”

“You’re always busy.”

He doesn’t answer you as stare at him. “Oh, so you won’t even answer me?”

You can see his jaw tighten from where you stand, but he doesn’t answer.

“When will you be done?”

“When you stop disobeying my orders!”

Your eyes narrow. “Oh, so this is what its about. Gibbs, I had to. The woman was trapped in her car. If I didn’t dive in after her, she would have drowned!”

“You could have died!” he roars at you suddenly.

His voice is so loud, than all argument dies on your lips. Your eyes fill with tears and you head off back to the bedroom.

Figures, the first fight you have with Gibbs was over work.

And you wait for me

10.

Aftermaths were always the hardest part of the job. Whether it was to tell a loved one of a casualty, picking up the pieces of the team, or healing from physical and emotional scars, there was just something about aftermaths that made you feel hollow inside.It’s late. You cry into your pillow, and you hear the door click open. You go quiet.

“[Y/N]?”

You don’t answer. You hear him sigh, standing near you. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I was afraid of losing you.”

You sniff. “I know. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

He kisses your temple, and you don’t feel so hollow anymore.

I'm on the road

To who knows where?

11.

“Beautiful!” exclaims Abby when she sees you. “Gibbs is gonna freak when he sees you.” You laugh, spinning in the white gown in front of the mirror.

“You think so?”

“Think so? I know so!”

You giggle at her enthusiasm, and partly out of nerves for the oncoming wedding. “You ready?”

She nods eagerly and helps you get to your place. Ducky smiles, eyes full of tears, as he wraps an arm around yours. “You look magnificent, my dear.”

“Thanks, Ducky.”

He leads you to the altar where you can see Gibbs’s back. He turns.

You swear this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Look ahead, not behind

I keep saying

12.

“Are you awake?” you whisper into the dark.

“Yeah,” says the voice beside you.

“Can I say something?”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry I disobeyed your orders that day.”

You can almost hear him wave his hand dismissively. “Ah, it’s in the past.”

There's no place to go

Where you're not there

13.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

Your eyes are wide, staring at the screen. “That’s her?”

He holds your hand, soft. “That’s her, sweetheart. That’s our little girl.”

You stare in awe at the screen, looking at the fluttering on the screen that signifies the heartbeat of the baby growing inside you. “Wow. Ours.”

He kisses your cheek, soft, “Ours.”

On your rope, I hold tight

But it's freeing

14.

“Administer 20 ccs, stat!”

Doctors rush around you as you groan in pain. “I’m not ready,” you cry out, scared out of your mind.

Gibbs grabs your hand, trying to calm you. “You’re going to be okay, you hear me? We’re going to do this together!”

You gaze at him before your eyes shut.

Then the monitor drops to a high pitched whine with a terrible flat line on the screen.

Everybody wants to be right

But only if it's not daylight?

15.

Baby cries are what eventually pull you from the darkness. “Is that her? Is that my baby?”

Gibbs is next to you with her in an instant. “Shhh, shhh, see? Mama’s okay. Mama made it through her complications. Its okay, see?”

You stretch out your arms to hold the baby. He gently places her in your arms. Your eyes fill with tears as hers dries, seeming to sense that this was her mother and calming down. You don’t even care about the horrible pain you’re feeling. All that matters was her and your husband, here in this moment.

“She’s perfect.”

Later, when you’re asleep, cradling the baby, Gibbs just stares at the both of you like you’re going to disappear. The most perfect sight before him, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. It felt like a dream. He takes a breath as he tries to memorize the scene before him.

His mind can’t even comprehend it. So, while you’re asleep, he whispers,

“It’s the most perfect dream.”

I keep trying to find my way back

My way back

16.

“Ah...Boss?”

Gibbs’s head snaps up, eyes hazy. “DiNozzo?”

DiNozzo surveys the scene before him, trying hard to keep pity from showing on his face.

The funeral was yesterday.

“Did you go home yesterday?”

Gibbs doesn’t answer. He skims the ground for another bottle of bourbon. There’s one sitting by your tombstone. He picks it up.

“Boss, I-”

“I should have listened to you, DiNozzo.”

DiNozzo’s eyes peer at his boss, clad in crumpled black clothes, hair a mess from the light rain. There are dark shadows under his eyes. “Listened to me?”

Gibbs looks to your headstone. “I should have told her.”

DiNozzo sits beside him, quiet. “I’m sure she knew, to some degree.”

Gibbs’s voice is void of any emotion. “It’s not a fantasy land, Tony.” He sighs, running fingers through his hair. “It’s not some place where I can makeup moments that I want and keep out the ones I do not.” He takes a swig of bourbon. “It’s just cold hard reality.”

Occam’s Razor is defined as a rule used in both science and philosophy that suggests that the more assumptions that are made to reach a conclusion, the more unlikely the explanation will be. The simpler the explanation, the more likely the truth.

Is it as easy as going from point A to point B?

Ah, you assumed, didn’t you? You made assumptions. Too many. Leading to an unlikely result. Tsk, tsk. I told you from the beginning.

Life does not move in a straight line. The answer is simple.

Sometimes there is no line at all. Sometimes, there is a jumble of points, some real, some imaginary-assumptions. A repetition of points, over and over again.

It’s up to you to decide.

(Hint: Please read the first four passages and then read all non italic passages start with B (This is your point B) in sequence (i.e . 1,2,3,4,5,7,9,11,13,15). Then read all the non-italic passages that start with A (This is your point A) in sequence (i.e 1,2,3,4,6,8,10,12,14,16). Please pay extra attention to the last line of each.)

#Twyla Tidbits #Leroy Jethro Gibbs #Gibbs x Reader #Agent Gibbs x Reader #Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader #Leroy Jethro Gibbs Imagine #Gibbs Imagine #Leroy Jethro Gibbs Reader Insert #Agent Gibbs Reader Insert #Gibbs Reader Insert #NCIS #NCIS x Reader #NCIS Reader Insert #NCIS Imagine #Tony DiNozzo

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