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crackedoutgiraffe · 4 years

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To the Moon and Back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

A/N: Chapter 7

You grabbed your stuff from your apartment, called your neighbor, and headed for the airfield. The prospect of sleep kept creeping into your head. Finally arriving at the airfield, you got on the plane and sat across from Reid and next to Morgan. By the time the pilot was ready for takeoff you were completely knocked out. You could hear Morgan and Reid talking, thinking you heard your name, you woke up but kept your eyes closed. They were talking about you, but it was, more or less, Morgan being nosy and Reid avoiding his questions with weird facts.

About two hours into your 5-hour flight, Hotch started the lot of you talking about the case, “This unsub is very peculiar.” “Yeah, why would he stab the women, but shoot the men?” JJ asked from her seat on the plane.

“The combination of that, the strict schedule, and the number 13 could tell us that this unsub may suffer from a condition similar to autism,” you added, looking at the case file.

“Many people who suffer from autism, and conditions like it, are often on very strict schedules with their caregivers if they have one,” Reid agreed.

Prentiss looked confused with the knowledge dump you and Reid provided, “But if the unsub had autism, wouldn’t that set him back mentally?”

“Actually, a lot of the people with the highest IQs suffer from mental defects like autism,” you corrected. “Charles Darwin, Emily Dickinson, and Thomas Jefferson were all believed to be on the autism spectrum.”

“So, if the unsub had autism, he would most likely have a caregiver, right?” Rossi piped up from his spot next to Reid.

“If he had a form of low functioning autism it’s possible but if he is higher on the spectrum it’s unlikely,” Reid answered.

“I’ll have Garcia see if she can find a list of autism patients in LA county,” Hotch finished.

Everyone returned to what they were doing, you pulled out your cell phone and headphones. You played some of your favorite oldies, Bon Jovi, REO Speedwagon, The Beatles, Queen. The plane finally landed at 5:30 California time.

“We don’t have much time to catch this guy before he abducts two more people, so we’re going to head right to the station,” Hotch stood up to talk to the group of you. Everyone got up, grabbed their bags, and shuffled off the plane, heading for the two SUVs parked on the tarmac. You got into the backseat of the second SUV, Rossi hopped into the passenger seat, Morgan was driving, and Reid was in the back. Morgan followed Hotch who was driving the first SUV. Their speedy driving got you all to the station 10 minutes before the estimated arrival time.

Hopping out of the car, Morgan gave you a hand, as if you were a princess exiting a carriage, “There you go sweetheart,” he winked.

“Morgan,” you heard Reid say sternly.

“Sorry, pretty boy,” Morgan smirked, letting go of your hand. The four of you followed Hotch, JJ, and Prentiss into the station.

An officer approached Hotch, “You must be the BAU, thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course,” Hotch shook the officer’s hand. “Is there anywhere we can set up?”

“We have the conference room set up for you folks.”

“Thank you,” Hotch walked in the direction the man pointed. We entered into a room with a clear whiteboard map of Los Angeles, a corkboard with the victims’ pictures, and a blank whiteboard. Hotch’s phone started to ring, “Go ahead, Garcia.”

“Good evening friends, I was doing some digging into the credit cards of the victims and I found that they all ate at Isla Flavorosa, an incredibly high-class restaurant in LA,” Garcia notes. “I also received a call from the coroner with more information about the state of the bodies and he said that they were all wearing fancy clothes.”

“The kind of clothes you would wear to a high-class restaurant?” you asked.

“Exactly, newbie,” Garcia giggled.

“Thank you, Garcia,” Hotch hung up the phone.

“So he abducts them before they have the opportunity to go home and change,” you added, “that doesn’t leave a very big time frame.”

“Alright, Y/N and Reid stay here and update the boards with what we know, JJ and Morgan head to the coroner’s office. Prentiss, some of the family members are coming in, talk with them when they get here. Rossi and I are going to go check out the dumpsite,” Hotch ordered and everyone scurried out of the room except for you and Reid.

You started to write on the whiteboard a few of the conclusions the team had made when you noticed Reid glancing at you every once in a while.

He was working on the geographic profile, “I don’t have autism you know.”

You looked at him confused, “Did I say you did?”

“Not directly,” he looked back at the clear whiteboard.

“Reid,” you sighed, putting down the marker you were using, “I wasn’t trying to imply that you had autism.”

He turned his head to look at you, “kinda seemed like it.”

“I’m sorry,” you put the file you were holding on the desk and walked out of the room, you could hear Reid call your name but you just ignored him. You left the police station and sat on a bench outside. The cool breeze felt nice on your face. You could feel a single tear roll down your cheek. You sat outside for about 20 minutes before it started to get chilly and you stood up to head back inside. Rossi and Hotch started to walk your way when you stood up.

“Why are you sitting out here?” Hotch looked at you with a puzzled look on his face.

“I felt a little nauseous so I thought some fresh air would help,” you lied through your teeth. Hotch nodded and walked inside.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Y/N,” Rossi whispered, walking alongside you.

“Who, Hotch?” you asked. Never before in your life has someone said something so weird.

“No, Reid,” Rossi corrected before hustling to catch up with Hotch leaving you confused.

When you entered the conference room the whole team was sitting around the table talking about the case, “The medical examiner didn’t have anything new for us,” JJ said.

“Prentiss, what did the families say?” Hotch asked, turning his attention in the other direction.

“They all mentioned something about proposing,” Prentiss looked at the notes she had taken, “Three of the guys asked for the father’s blessing and the other one talked to his parents about it.”

“That’s weird,” Rossi spoke up. “If they all have that in common, that could be some criteria the unsub had for picking his victims, but how would he have known that.”

“He couldn't have,” you added. “Proposing is such a top-secret thing is today’s society that there would be no way for the unsub to know unless he worked at a jewelry store or something.” “The fourth victim worked at a jewelry store,” Morgan commented. “I’m going to call Garcia,”

“At the crime scene Rossi and I noticed that at all of the graves the men were buried next to their girlfriends and there were flowers near the graves,” Hotch noted.

“What kind of flowers?” Reid asked from his clear whiteboard.

“Lilies, I think,” Rossi chimed in.

“Those are one of the most common flowers at funerals,” Reid continued. “This unsub may have had funerals for his victims.”

Morgan came back from calling Garcia, “I’m having Garcia cross-check a list of employees at local jewelry stores and employees at the restaurant, I think the best way to catch this guy is to send someone undercover, Hotch,” Morgan suggested.

“Ok, but who are we going to send?” Hotch responded. “We need someone with y/h/c hair, y/e/c eyes, and someone to be their boyfriend.”

“What if we sent Y/N and Reid?” Morgan’s face lit up at his genius idea.

“Oh, I do- I don’t know,” you chimed in. “I didn’t bring a fancy dress.” “If you two don’t want to go you don’t have to,” Hotch looked at you, “but you would be our best shot and we could buy you a dress.”

You turned to look at Reid, “I’m in if you are.” He looked you in the eyes confidently but his face seemed so worried.

“I’ll do it,” He turned to look at Hotch and nodded.

“Alright. I’ll call the restaurant and have them notified about our plan,” Hotch took out his phone. “It’s getting late, you can all head to the hotel, Y/N, you can go dress shopping tomorrow,” you nodded and walked out of the station with the team, breathing in the fresh air. Please let this end well.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

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zach-the-fox · 4 years

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Furiends Episode 3: A Bad Idea

A new day has come, and the warthog sits with the cat and blue jay at a small table in a small coffee shop by the name “Pawbucks”. The girls, however, are slouched in their chairs, and have their heads leaning against solid objects as flat-mouthed, half-eyed expressions occupy their faces.

“Ugh, I’m so bored!” Navy exclaims. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” responds Emmy. “Thought it would be a good idea to talk about art, but we constantly see each other’s posts on Furbook.”

“Come on, I’m sure there’s something else to do,” Carly adds. “Maybe we can go to the cartoon festival?” The bird and warthog just look at her. “No? How about-”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Emmy interrupts. She gets out of her seat. “Perhaps, it’ll come to us…” The bird and cat follow without another word. The three exit the coffee shop and walk along the sidewalk. As they amble down the street, Navy begins a conversation on her interests with a certain character she conjures up. That’s when the pass a display of books in the window pane.

Emmy takes notice of a book on the shelf through the display, forcing her to enter the store. The other girls follow her as she steps toward her target, pulls the book off the shelf, and examines it. The title reads “The Dark Arts for Dummies,” and having a deformed face on the cover. “Interesting…” Emmy opens the book and scans through its contents briefly. “Very interesting…”

Carly stands behind Emmy, glancing over her shoulder to see inside the book. “That book interests you?”

Navy stands and makes her way beside the warthog. “Ooh, a book on dark magic?”

“Looks like it,” Emmy says. “Says everything about how to summon demons and conjure black magic.”

Navy gasps and smiles at the idea. “Oh, can we do this! Please?”

“I don’t know if we should,” Carly adds. “May have some bad outcomes.”

“Or maybe we can raise our very own demon!” Navy utters. “And perhaps wreak havoc on that wolf for taunting Zach.”

“Not sure if that’ll be the case,” utters Emmy. “But you know what, it probably would be a way to kill boredom. Besides, what could go wrong?”

***

Back at the mall, the three girls wander around in search for their items. They split off in different directions as they look around.

Navy picks up a box labeled “dinner candles” on it, taking it for the first item. “These will do.”

“Miss,” calls out a store associate. “We haven’t stocked those yet!” Navy continues walking up to the counter and prepares to pay, leaving the clerk with a look of dismay.

Emmy searches up and down the row of chalkboards, taking the erasers and chalk from the holders. “This will suit our need of chalk dust.” She picks up one eraser, but barely has a grip on it. “Uh oh!” Upon catching it, she hits the chalk boards on either side of her, emitting dust into the air around her. “Oh no…” Emmy’s mouth begins opening wider until, “Achoo!” The dust enters her nose more, causing an uncontrollable sneeze. “I must… achoo! Get out of- Achoo! Here…”

In the floral shop by the corner, Carly looks around for the last item on the list; black rose water. “Hm… If I were rose water, where would I be?” Her eyes are drawn to the bottle on the top shelf near the entrance. “Of course, it’s up there…” She looks around, yet sees no worker in the store. “And no one’s around to help… Guess I’ll just help myself then…” The cat reaches for the bottle, but her paw is only inches away from it. “Hugck! Come on!” She stands on her tippy-toes. “Come on, Carly! You’ve almost got it!” Her paw stretches out more and wraps around the item. “Got it!” Her weight, however, causes the god to lean forward into the shelf. “Uh oh! Whoa!” Carly is knocked into it, causing it to fall over. As the shelf falls, a vase of flower water tips and spills all over her. Carly gets up and sees the damages she’s caused. “Uh, whoops…” She quickly pulls out some cash and leaves it on the counter. “I’ll just be going!” She leaves the scene. “I was never here…”

The girls regroup in the center of the mall.

“All right, everyone got everything from the list?” asks Emmy, rubbing her nose with her finger. The cat and bird nod. “Good. Now, we need a place to perform the ritual.”

“Let’s do it at my place,” says Navy. “We can set up there and-” The bird sniffs the cat. “Hey, why do you smell like fresh roses?”

“Please don’t,” Carly utters. “I need a bath once I get home…”

“You can wash later, when we’ve-” Emmy sniffles. “Oh no… Achoo! Ugh…” She sneezes again.

“Bless you,” Navy tells her.

“Security!” someone shouts. “Security! Someone has destroyed the flower shop!” As the spectator yells, the girls rush out the entrance.

***

The gang gathers at Navy’s studio apartment, where they set up for their “special event”. Carly draws along the floor, making a pentagram with a marker. Emmy takes sand and proceeds to encircle the pentagram, touching the points with perfection. Lastly, Navy places candles beside the points and lights them.

Carly looks into the picture in the book before viewing the shape in reality. She crosses her arms with a smile of pleasure. “Looks about right.”

“Yeah,” Navy adds. “And it smells nice, too!”

“Okay, let’s get started.” Emmy picks up the book and holds it in her hooves. “All that’s left is to recite the incantation.”

“Wait!” Carly interrupts. “What if whatever comes out of there tries to kill us?”

“Hm, good point. We should suit up and prepare for the worst.” The three girls rummage around Navy’s place for protective equipment and anything that could be used as a weapon. They manage to find gear and tools, preparing in five minutes. Navy holds a shovel close while donning a knight’s helmet, while Carly protects herself with football helmet, wielding a frying pan for her defense. Emmy’s head is covered with a pumpkin as a baseball bat leans up against her for her weapon. The warthog holds the book up. “Everybody ready?” Navy and Carly stand guard behind Emmy, ready to expect the unexpected. Emmy begins the incantation. “For thou who lives trapped in flame and clay, heed this call, rejoice and pray.” Navy’s wings tremble, shaking the shovel in her grip. “Gather upon thy mortal door.” Carly tightens her grip of her frying pan. “Break the gates, and emerge once more!” The candle flames enlarge, brightening the room as a portal opens within the center of the pentagram. One big, round ball shoots out from the entryway, bouncing off the walls of the apartment. The three girls panic as the frenzy continues.

“Whoa!” Carly dives behind the counters in the kitchen to take cover, lying on the floor. “Jeez! How do you stop this thing?!”

“I don’t know!” Emmy dodges as the flame ball flies past her. “This thing’s out of control! Yipe!” She stumbles onto the ground, avoiding the fire sphere as it nearly collides into her.

“Don’t worry!” Navy holds the shovel firmly. “I’ve got it!” As the ball comes her way, she swings and smacks it away. The sphere of flames smashes through the glass window and outside. “Homerun! Woo!” The orb is last seen barreling down the street, burning lampposts and trees along the way. “Um, uh oh…”

Carly stands and looks out the broken window. “Nice going…”

Emmy is quick to her feet as she heads out the door. “Come on! We have to go after it!”

“Are you crazy?!” the cat utters. Navy is already behind the warthog. “Hey, wait for me!” Carly sprints after them.

***

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Zach, Niji, Eren, and Silus enjoy some time together in the park. The boys each hold ice cream cones in their paws and chat away as they lick their frozen treats.

“Mmm,” Niji spurts after licking his treat. “I love rainbow-flavored ice cream.”

Zach looks to the short deer, who takes a bite out of his swirl. “Eren, thank you very much… You didn’t have to pay for mine… I could’ve just passed on it.”

“No no,” Eren tells him. “It’s fine. Besides, it would’ve been fair if you were left out. You’re our friend after all.”

“Nobody ever thought it was unfair when they left me out of things, the orphanage and Team Rescuers especially…” Zach’s ears start to droop.

“They’re just dumb,” Niji adds in. “The whole town, too. Just because you’re different, doesn’t give them the right to push you out of things. So what if you are the product of some bad animals or have a mental disorder? You look and act normal to us.”

Zach’s eyelids open wide as his ears straighten. “R-really? You think so, Niji?”

“We all do,” Silus implies. “They just don’t know what it’s like to be different. You shouldn’t let people talk you down because they say you have “flaws”. In fact, you shouldn’t assess yourself for your flaws, but of your strengths; the things that make you proud of who you are, no matter what anybody things.”

“Gee, I-” The fox pauses, then turns his head after spotting something glowing in the corner of his eye. “W-what? What is that?” Everyone turns to see where he’s looking. “It looks like a giant-” Zach’s eyelids pull back as far as they can go as he notices a large fireball heading straight for him and his friends. “Holy!” Silus is quick with his reflexes, grabbing the fox, wolf, and deer with his arms and pulling them away to avoid the flames. However, as the ball of flames whooshes past, it manages to touch Zach on his torso, Eren by his shoulder, and Niji on his head, as well as the newt’s arms that grasp the three. The four boys collapse to the ground and scatter as they grudge at their burns, grunting and yelping with pain. The fire sphere then disappears from view, leaving the friends clueless.

Emmy arrives on scene with Navy and Carly beside her. “I think this is where it-” She notices the boys. “Oh my gosh! Niji, Eren, Silus, Zach!” She and the girls aide the four friends to their feet. “You guys okay?!”

“What happened?” asks Carly. “You’ve got burns!”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Niji shouts. “No thanks to that giant fireball that passed by!”

“Wait, you know where the fireball went?!” Navy utters. “Where did it go?!” She searches around frantically. “Is it around here?!”

“Navy, now’s not the time!” Carly calls to her. “We have to help our friends!”

“We don’t even know what’s happening,” grunts Zach. “We were having ice cream when that flaming ball came out of nowhere… Oh, it hurts!”

Eren looks up at the girls. “Um, why are you wearing those outfits?”

“We’ll explain later,” Emmy says. “Why don’t we head back to Navy’s place and get you guys some ice?” The friends agree. The boys stand with ease due to their injuries and follow the girls back. @carlycmarathecat @emmy-the-absolute-goof @pink-unicorn-blood @rainbow-strike @ask-choro-mama

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clarenecessities · 6 years

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so. today. i was trying to keep from physical altercations (mostly to stave off the nagging of certain parties, Mom) but that wasn’t always an option.

i showed up a few hours early & joined the protest--someone (whose name i didn’t catch despite teaming up for like 90 minutes) gave me their spare megaphone bc i was “good at heckling” so that passed some time until the rally started & we moved onto noise tactics

the cops apparently learned from their failures on the 3rd, bc the plaza, instead of being roped off, was double-blockaded w traffic barriers. they had one fence between them and PeePee & one (+street) between them and us. so there were no physical altercations (baring one guy in a hawaiian shirt who just walked down the line trying to pick a fight, to baffled laughter) until the marching started

and the shit hit the fan

they got to go in the street, which is bullshit because not only had the cops been playing the same recording for 40 minutes telling us to get out of the street, but on the 3rd they had to stay on the sidewalk. i guess their whole cage set-up didn’t allow them to walk on the sidewalk, but traffic was still going on, you know? anyway, they got perhaps thirty feet & started to turn down an adjacent street, coming within feet of us, so naturally things escalated. people started throwing shit (mostly water bottles) on both sides, there was yelling, scuffling--i was hanging back, but i had a good view of the front line and it was... rough.

so the cops let this go on for about a minute, then start firing something at us with their not-guns. i thought at first it was rubber bullets, because they were clearly aiming to hit us (and when has a cop ever used a rubber bullet properly?) and i got nailed in the foot--my good foot! still mad--and it hurt like hell, but then i heard some coughing. it occurred to me i hadn’t inhaled in a while, so i took an experimental whiff & promptly had to book it because turns out i’d been shot with a pepperball! .... honestly, compared to the bear mace it’s kind of a walk in the park (pun intended). my shoe is super spicy now though :(

so we were forced down a block by the pepper cloud. i helped get a woman with a head injury to a couple of medics, but it was just a cut so i gave a concerned party some of my nitrile gloves & kept going.

a block up, PeePee was starting to come back up towards us. the initial plan was to block off the street, but that didn’t work very well because almost immediately, they charged us. well--the military LARPers did, anyway. if you’ve never been rushed by a bunch of forty year olds in flak vests and american flag capes, i recommend it. shit’s kind of hilarious.

i was still trying to avoid fights, mostly kept to people’s flanks to provide support as we moved down the street. cops set off a whole mess of flashbangs. what the fuck is the tactical point of a flashbang? all it does is get people frenzied. if you’re storming like, someone’s house, sure, but trying to get people not to attack anything? c’mon. anyway. i was watching someone’s back, didn’t actually engage, when this old guy comes up and just shoves me? no preamble, no gesture, just--shove. so i sort of stared at him incredulously for a second, like, are you fucking kidding me?

and uh. i may have. blacked out. a little bit

next thing i knew, i had his flak vest in one hand and his jaw in the other. no conscious memory of moving. i was kind of shocked/bewildered so i didn’t really resist when one of his buddies scooped me off and tossed me down the street. scraped my elbow & my knee but those are my worst injuries of the day so like hey! could definitely be worse.

i’m not gonna lie y’all i’m kinda freaked out about that part. what’s the point of training and shit if my gd PTSD is gonna take over whenever it can? why the fuck did lizard-brain!clare think it was a good idea to just grab a man’s jaw??? might have to avoid combat situations in general instead of just hanging back..... guess my shitty fuckin’ brain didn’t get the memo.

anyway. someone helped me up (by the bag again; why do people think hauling me up by the bag is a good idea?), the cops eventually separated us, and PeePee was forced back down the street, so they moved up another block.

now here, fate smiled upon us. the thing about this area is, there’s a lot of construction. and what do they have at construction scaffolds? barriers! do you see where this is going bc they sure didn’t. we built a barricade. it was amazing. victor hugo’s ghost shed a single tear.

well, so they turned on down and went up another block. some folks in black bloc grabbed a construction cordon and carried it up.

they went up a fourth block. they were moving pretty slowly between the cops and the flag-waving, so we beat them there. we blocked off the street. people threw some more shit--including a recycling bin? like the kind you leave out on your curb? it was incredible. so there were some more flashbangs, some more pepperspray (though fortunately i was across the street from it this time). that’s when the cops declared it a riot, and we were ordered to vacate the area.

PeePee slunk back to the plaza and we regrouped in the restricted zone. We headed back up in a different direction than we’d come, and found that in the interim, the cops had closed the adjoining park.

so it now goes na/zis, barrier, cops, barrier, street, cops, entire park, cops, street, us.

it’s almost as if the cops don’t want the na.zis to get hurt?

kind of a terrible idea, anyway. they wouldn’t let us in the park, but we were still allowed on the sidewalk, so we just walked right by ‘em. PeePee was too scared to march again so there was more waiting around. A cop (Brillard, i believe) yelled at a native woman for conducting a smudging ceremony & told her to go back in the park... which we were banned from. she blessed his family.

eventually the PeePee rally was also declared a riot, and they were ordered to leave the plaza. why they weren’t declared a riot at the same time as the rest of us remains unclear, given that they were the aggressors in all cases of assault (well; battery. i did see a lot of our folks throwin’ shit) and kept trying to stab people with their flagpoles bc the cops had taken their weapons as condition for entry to the plaza. i for one quite like that condition, as it kept me from getting bear maced again (really cannot overemphasize how much i hate bear mace).

they moved to the sidewalk outside of the plaza and proceeded to talk for another forty minutes or so. during this time, our side was pepper sprayed again, for reasons i still don’t understand? we were standing across the street, perfectly peaceful--we literally had our hands in the air. anyway one tall fella was hit in the eye (he was wearing sunglasses, but like damn, that’s not a good place for a pepperball) and i was actually able to do something useful for once. so i helped him flush his eyes & then another person came up and poured straight-up antacid in there?? i just kind of looked at her like ‘hey, why?’ and she told me to rinse it with my water. i showed her where it said ‘L.A.W.’ but i don’t think she knows what L.A.W. is ‘cause i had to explain it wasn’t water. the dude was okay though, he filmed the whole process.

so i dunno maybe i’ll get some better training and focus more on street medic stuff? it did feel nice to help him, and i didn’t black out even a little.

eventually i moved up and around a few blocks to see what was going on--they’d been chanting Rufio (incorrectly) because one of their guys goes by Rufio for some ungodly, un-Basco-sanctioned reason. anyway i guess that guy got arrested.

they were starting to leave by the time i got up there, and there were so few of us that we were actually outnumbered by a couple people (as opposed to our 4:1 odds all day). the cops were standing by but didn’t intervene when PeePee came over to our side of the street and people started getting up in each other’s faces. I for one had an enchanting conversation with a man who doesn’t know how child support works and thinks abortions are worse than the ICE centers, despite his adamant claims that the children there are being r*ped? it was somewhat incoherent, i’m not gonna lie to you. he also tried to stare me down but kept fucking it up. anyway he got pulled away by a shepherding Proud .Boy and they continued to retreat up the block, with our contingency in leisurely pursuit and the cops having moved to the other side of the street.

there’s some speculation based on how they handled today that this was intentional on their part, and not merely incompetence. the two groups were very often put into situations that allowed for physical clashes--sometimes forced into them--and the cops waited an inordinately long time before intervening. if the new policy is “let them fight” i have to say i’m on board, because no fuckin’ way would those cowards show up.

anyway a Proud /Boy punched someone and they retaliated, knocking the PB over. It was just those two hits (followed by some yelling but nothing physical) and the cops swooped on in. well. their flashbang did. once again i’d like to complain that flashbangs are absolutely useless as a riot suppression tactic and in fact actively encourage people to riot? anyway i got hit with some shrapnel in my upper back but idt it broke the skin. i’m mostly just irritated.

the cops walked us down the street, yelling at us the whole time (”move back!” “turn around!” “pay attention!”) but there were only about six of ‘em and perhaps ten of us? so it felt a bit more conversational than usual. the person they were mostly yelling at asked if it was necessary to point a gun at him, and the cop insisted it wasn’t a gun (it was a pepperball “launcher” (cough: gun)) according to “terminology”. when i asked if the yelling was necessary and suggested he use his words, he maintained they were ‘very loud words’. so i gave him shit about terminology. one woman suggested they do their jobs better and a different cop flipped up his visor and yelled “YOU ARE AN ADULT” which was as bewildering as it was hilarious. i think he was trying to suggest we should protect ourselves from the na/zis, but like...... we always have? cops have never fucking protected us. they just sucked at protecting the na.zis today.

anyway they all got on their rented “CHOOL BUS” and puttered on back to vancouver at the end of the day, so a rather anticlimactic finish compared to the 3rd’s waterfront clash.

one guy tried to heckle my phone case? but like, very poorly? and when it didn’t work he started heckling my boobs? like sir... sir..... i don’t care what you think of my fucking boobs? why are you hanging out of a chool bus window to tell me this when you look to be about 57 years old??

all in all, a much more violent event, but i’m much less injured, owing primarily to the hands off approach the cops took. all my injuries this time were a result of my own hubris (and getting thrown down a street i guess, but if we’re being real that one’s on my hubris too) as opposed to being a pinata for a pissy porcine party like i was on the 3rd

i’m not even as sore this time since i’ve been actually exercising this month! i’m basically unstoppable now

#protest shit

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neon-mooni · 7 years

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simnovels replied to your photoset: star-sailorr: a comic about autism

It’s sad to see how in other environments than mine this actually happens. I don’t know if it’s because I live in the Netherlands or in a certain part of the Netherlands but I have a few friends/old friends who are autistic from school and they have never been treated badly by anyone. Everyone knew about their condition and took it into account. There weren’t any superficial judgemental people like what’s described above. I feel blessed to have avoided those.

Unfortunately, this happens a lot here in America. This is due in part to a terrible organization known as Auti$m $peak$.

Autism Speaks’ senior leadership fails to include a single autistic person. Unlike non-profits focused on intellectual disability, Down Syndrome, Cerebral Palsy and countless other disabilities, Autism Speaks systematically excludes autistic adults from its board of directors, leadership team and other positions of senior leadership. This exclusion has been the subject of numerous discussions with and eventually protests against Autism Speaks, yet the organization persists in its refusal to allow those it purports to serve into positions of meaningful authority within its ranks. The slogan of the disability rights movement has long been, “Nothing About Us, Without Us.” Almost nine years after its founding, Autism Speaks continues to refuse to abide by this basic tenet of the mainstream disability community.

Autism Speaks has a history of supporting dangerous fringe movements that threaten the lives and safety of both the autism community and the general public. The anti-vaccine sentiments of Autism Speaks’ founders have been well documented in the mainstream media. Several of Autism Speaks’ senior leaders have resigned or been fired after founders Bob and Suzanne Wright overruled Autism Speaks’ scientific leadership in order to advance the discredited idea that autism is the result of vaccinations. Furthermore, Autism Speaks haspromoted the Judge Rotenberg Center, a Massachusetts facility under Department of Justice and FDA investigation for the use of painful electric shock against its students. The Judge Rotenberg Center’s methods have been deemed torture by the United Nations Special Rapporteur on Torture (p. 84) and are currently the subject of efforts by the Massachusetts state government and disability rights advocates to shut the facility down. Despite this, Autism Speaks has allowed the Judge Rotenberg Center to recruit new admissions from families seeking resources at their fundraising walks. We believe this is not the type of action you anticipated when you agreed to provide support to Autism Speaks events.

Autism Speaks’ fundraising efforts pull money away from local communities, returning very little funds for the critical investments in services and supports needed by autistic people and our families. Only 4% of funds donated to Autism Speaks are reinvested in services and supports for autistic people and our families. Across the country, local communities have complained that at a time when state budget cutbacks are making investment in local disability services all the more critical, Autism Speaks fundraisers take money away from needed services in their community. In addition, while the majority of Autism Speaks’ funding goes towards research dollars, few of those dollars have gone to the areas of most concern to autistic people and our families–services and supports, particularly for autistics reaching adulthood and aging out of the school system. According to the Department of Health and Human Services’ Inter-Agency Autism Coordinating Committee, only 1% of Autism Speaks’ research budget goes towards research on service quality and less than one-quarter of 1% goes towards research on the needs of autistic adults.

Autism Speaks’ advertising depends on offensive and outdated rhetoric of fear and pity, presenting the lives of autistic people as tragic burdens on our families and society. In its advertising, Autism Speaks has compared being autistic to being kidnapped, dying of a natural disaster, having a fatal disease, and countless other inappropriate analogies. In one of its most prominent fundraising videos, an Autism Speaks executive stated that she had considered placing her child in the car and driving off the George Washington Bridge, going on to say that she did not do so only because she had a normal child as well. Autism Speaks advertisements have cited inaccurate statistics on elevated divorce rates for parents of autistic children and many other falsehoods designed to present the lives of autistic children and adults as little more than tragedies.

Autism Speaks’ only advisory board member on the autism spectrum, John Elder Robison, announced his resignation from the organization this month in protest of the organization comparing autistic people to kidnapping victims and claiming that our families are not living, but merely existing, due to the horror of having autistic people in their lives. In his resignation letter, he discusses his four years spent attempting to reform the organization from the inside without success, stating, “Autism Speaks says it’s the advocacy group for people with autism and their families. It’s not, despite having had many chances to become that voice. Autism Speaks is the only major medical or mental health nonprofit whose legitimacy is constantly challenged by a large percentage of the people affected by the condition they target.

Also, they released a terrible commercial called “I am Autism”.

youtube

Here is the transcript.

“I am autism. I’m visible in your children, but if I can help it, I am invisible to you until it’s too late. I know where you live. And guess what? I live there too. I hover around all of you. I know no color barrier, no religion, no morality, no currency. I speak your language fluently. And with every voice I take away, I acquire yet another language. I work very quickly. I work faster than pediatric aids, cancer, and diabetes combined And if you’re happily married, I will make sure that your marriage fails. Your money will fall into my hands, and I will bankrupt you for my own self-gain. I don’t sleep, so I make sure you don’t either. I will make it virtually impossible for your family to easily attend a temple, birthday party, or public park without a struggle, without embarrassment, without pain. You have no cure for me. Your scientists don’t have the resources, and I relish their desperation. Your neighbors are happier to pretend that I don’t exist—of course, until it’s their child. I am autism. I have no interest in right or wrong. I derive great pleasure out of your loneliness. I will fight to take away your hope. I will plot to rob you of your children and your dreams. I will make sure that every day you wake up you will cry, wondering who will take care of my child after I die? And the truth is, I am still winning, and you are scared. And you should be. I am autism. You ignored me. That was a mistake. And to autism I say: I am a father, a mother, a grandparent, a brother, a sister. We will spend every waking hour trying to weaken you. We don’t need sleep because we will not rest until you do. Family can be much stronger than autism ever anticipated, and we will not be intimidated by you, nor will the love and strength of my community. I am a parent riding toward you, and you can push me off this horse time and time again, but I will get up, climb back on, and ride on with the message. Autism, you forget who we are. You forget who you are dealing with. You forget the spirit of mothers, and daughters, and fathers and sons. We are Qatar. We are the United Kingdom. We are the United States. We are China. We are Argentina. We are Russia. We are the Eurpoean Union. We are the United Nations. We are coming together in all climates. We call on all faiths. We search with technology and voodoo and prayer and herbs and genetic studies and a growing awareness you never anticipated. We have had challenges, but we are the best when overcoming them. We speak the only language that matters: love for our children. Our capacity to love is greater than your capacity to overwhelm. Autism is naïve. You are alone. We are a community of warriors. We have a voice. You think because some of our children cannot speak, we cannot hear them? That is autism’s weakness. You think that because my child lives behind a wall, I am afraid to knock it down with my bare hands? You have not properly been introduced to this community of parents and grandparents, of siblings and friends and schoolteachers and therapists and pediatricians and scientists. Autism, if you are not scared, you should be. When you came for my child, you forgot: you came for me. Autism, are you listening?"

#simnovels

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smallamountsofmonster · 7 years

Text

A Little More

Supercorp - Read on ao3

Lena made very sure to always, from the beginning, follow Kara’s lead. She knew what it felt like to have people attach themselves to her name, or her bank account, or her really incredible parking access around the city, and she knew how easy it was to lose sight of what friendship meant, and the difference between actually liking someone, and liking how that person looked at you when you exerted your influence. So, from the beginning, she let Kara set the pace. Kara Danvers, though, was probably the only person she had ever met that didn’t seem to want the perks that came with being her friend - and aside from the interview exclusives that she was so hesitant to ask for, Lena couldn’t think of a single favor Kara had called upon. It was nice, but it wasn’t easy. Lena spent most of their time together trying to convince herself that maybe Kara kept calling because she liked her as a person, rather than an opportunity.

“So, I need a favor,” Kara said one afternoon as they set up lunch on the coffee table in her office, and Lena had to remind herself to keep breathing.

“Okay?” Lena hoped that something resembling a smile was plastered on her face, but Kara wasn’t looking at her.

“I have a weekly game night with some friends, and since my sister started bringing her girlfriend, our numbers are off.” Kara tore open a paper bag between them for easier access to the chips inside. “You don’t mind tacos today, do you? There’s this great little place I found last week in – town. In town.” She didn’t wait for Lena to respond, focusing on the food in front of them and trying her best not to blush. “Anyway, game night.”

There was a pause before Lena tilted her head and said, “Yes?”

“Yes? Oh, good. Great. Okay. This will be fun!”

“What?”

“The first thing you need to know is that Alex cheats. Are you any good at charades?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s okay, we’ll work up to it. Poker? You seem like you’d be good at poker.”

“I am good at poker.”

“Perfect,” Kara grinned. “Tell no one of this conversation.”

“I’m not entirely sure I could if I wanted to.”

“That’s the spirit. Maybe you should come over early - to get our story straight? How’s seven?”

“Seven, when?”

“Seven tonight.”

Lena might be nursing a little bit of whiplash from this conversation, but she knew when to say yes to a cute girl. She glanced over at the stack of approvals on her desk that needed to be reviewed before tomorrow morning, and briefly wondered when was the last time she even considered putting off work in favor of a social visit.

“Seven is wonderful,” she said, though, and then fought a grimace at her wording. Kara didn’t seem to notice. She just grinned so brightly that Lena found herself comparing her to sunlight, and then she grimaced again because get it together, Luthor.

—

Lena had been to Kara’s apartment before. She knew what to expect in terms of lighting and seating and, probably, food options. But she always had to remind herself that social engagements were not necessarily business meetings. Sometimes they were. But this wasn’t. This was a casual invite to play board games and meet Kara’s friends, which definitely shouldn’t have had her so nervous that her foot tapped through the elevator ride, or that her lip was red from worrying at it. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn this skirt. She knocked before she convinced herself to run away, and the door was flung open almost immediately.

“You’re here!” Kara grinned at her, and handed her a full glass of wine before she was even through the door. Bless her. “So, listen, we’re actually one short tonight, so teams are out anyway.”

“Oh,” Lena said as she was ushered inside. Kara was hanging her coat up, but she couldn’t remember actually taking it off. “I don’t need to crash your party, if you’d rather even numbers.”

“No!” Kara’s hands were on her shoulders now, and Lena thought she might be more disoriented than originally assessed. Kara seemed to be everywhere, all at once. “No, please stay. I was looking forward to hanging out with you.”

“Okay,” Lena nodded. “Yes.”

“Everyone should be here soon, but I thought you might like a moment to situate.”

“Yes,” Lena smiled. “That was very thoughtful.”

And then it was easy, Lena realized, to fall into Kara’s genuine domesticity. She greeted each person with her full attention, but never drifted far from her side. She introduced Lena to everyone individually, and not a single person recoiled at her name - she wondered if Kara had told them not to, or if they were maybe just nice, too. She always figured nice people gravitated to other nice people.

But then, she had met most of these people before. Maybe the shock was just dulled.

She lost at cards on purpose, and Kara was dismayed. Alex brought her another glass of wine when Kara got distracted by pictures of Maggie’s goddaughter’s new puppy.

“Luthor,” she greeted, and it was friendly enough to surprise Lena.

“Thank you,” she said as she accepted the glass. They sat next to each other and didn’t fill the silence, but adjusted in their own time. When Kara swooped in to rescue her, she was surprised that she didn’t actually require it. But she appreciated the thought, and she definitely appreciated how close Kara stayed the rest of the evening.

—

She found herself at Kara’s apartment almost every night for the next week. And the week after that. On days she didn’t make it over, Kara brought dinner to her office in dozens of tiny take out boxes, because she insisted on options. One night, Supergirl dropped a bag of cookies on her balcony with just a wave before zipping off in the opposite direction.

They spent mornings texting, and lunch breaks sharing jokes and articles they thought the other would enjoy. Kara started throwing her legs over Lena’s lap when they lounged on her couch, and laying her head on her shoulder halfway through movies. Lena found herself relaxing into it, and was only a little mortified when she forgot to hide the fact that laughing sometimes made her snort. She learned that she couldn’t eat at Kara’s level, and Kara learned to pick up some healthy options for her along with whatever pile of food she had gotten for herself. It was nice. It was something.

“Should we talk about it?” Kara asked one night as the credits rolled on the TV, and the apartment was dark and quiet, and the blanket draped over them made them both feel warm, and safe.

“If you’d like.”

“But would you like to?” Lena paused. “Because what you want is important too,” Kara pushed. “You’re very careful with me, but I like you, and what you want is important.”

“Okay,” Lena nodded. “Let’s talk about it.”

—

“You shouldn’t work so late.”

“Supergirl.”

Kara hopped down from the ledge of the balcony and leaned against the open doorway with a grin. Lena leaned back in her chair and capped her pen.

“It’s part of the job, you know,” Kara said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one hip.

“My schedule is part of your job?”

“Well, you’re part of National City,” she shrugged. “It’s my job to make sure you’re, you know. Safe. Happy. Healthy.”

“I see.”

“So, are you?”

“Would you like to come in, Supergirl?” Kara grinned at her again and took a seat on her couch. Lena poured two glasses of water before she joined her, and Kara accepted hers with both hands.

“So, are you?” Kara said again when Lena was settled beside her.

“You had a big day, I hear,” Lena smiled at her, and Kara laughed and shook her head. “All part of the job, I suppose.”

“It feels awful of me, but these days are starting to feel like less of an accomplishment, and more of a day-job. Night-job,” she corrected, and then looked completely surprised at herself. “Oh,” she sat up a little straighter. “That’s not what I meant to say at all.”

“Don’t worry,” Lena shook her head and let one hand rest on Kara’s knee. “It doesn’t sound awful to me.” Kara took a breath relaxed a little.

“So, do you ever go home for the day, or is this couch a pull-out?” Kara joked, and Lena shifted to prop her arm against the back of the couch and lean into it.

“Are you propositioning me, Supergirl?”

“I,” Kara jumped back a few inches. “No, I,” she said, and Lena laughed so genuinely that Kara stopped fumbling and just watched, a smile tugging at one side of her mouth.

“I apologize,” Lena said as her laughter died down and she swiped quickly at one of her eyes. “I so rarely get the opportunity to tease a superhero.”

“Oh,” Kara tried very hard not to grin, but really only succeeded with one side of her mouth. “That’s part of the job, too.”

—

“Is this okay?”

Lena had to check. Honestly, the last thing she wanted to do right now was pull back from Kara’s arms, but she had to check. Kara was warm against her, and the fingernails scraping through Lena’s hair were driving her crazy, and she felt Kara nod against her as soft lips met the side of her neck. She melted into it, hands dragging down Kara’s sides and then up underneath her shirt to rest tightly against her hips. She pushed forward until Kara was pressed against the counter, and Kara gasped at the jolt, and Lena never wanted to do anything ever again that didn’t make her make that sound. Her hands moved down to the backs of Kara’s thighs, but before she could tug her up onto the counter, Kara pushed one hand flat against her chest and stopped, breathing heavily into her shoulder.

“Wait,” she said, and Lena dropped her hands completely. “No, it’s okay, I just,” Kara made a frustrated noise, and Lena took a small step back. “We need to talk.”

“Oh,” Lena said, trying to calm her breathing and her heart and god, was it always so warm in here? She took another step back and Kara had to grab her hand to stop her from retreating completely.

“I want this,” Kara said, crouching a little to catch Lena’s eyes, and holding her gaze until Lena gave her a small nod. “I want this, but we need to talk before,” she paused. “Before.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to sit?”

“If you’d like.”

Kara’s grip on her hand was tight as she led her around to the couch, and she sat angled so their knees knocked.

“I don’t know how to tell someone this,” Kara gave a short laugh as she covered her mouth with her free hand. “I’ve never done it before.” Lena squeezed her hand, and Kara looked up at her with uncertain eyes. “You deserve to know what this - what we’re becoming - who you’re -”

“Kara,” Lena breathed, and Kara gave another nervous laugh. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I really do.”

“I understand.”

“No,” she shook he head. “I don’t think you do.”

“Kara, you don’t have to say it,” Lena said, and Kara stared at her. “You don’t have to,” she said again, softly, because Kara was so still that she was sure she’d shatter right there in front of her.

“I’m Supergirl,” Kara finally whispered, closing her eyes as Lena’s hands tightened around hers.

“Yeah,” Lena nodded.

“You knew that.” Lena shrugged and leaned in to press her lips to Kara’s cheek.

“I know you.”

—

Keeping their relationship a secret made sense. A Luthor dating anybody would signal a media frenzy, and increased focus on Kara Danvers would be good for no one. And a Super dating a Luthor would be the story of a lifetime, and once that broke the internet it would be just a matter of time before the entire world knew that Kara Danvers was Supergirl. Those, at least, we Lena’s reasons for agreeing to keep it quiet. To be honest, she didn’t need her own reasons. She had committed to following Kara’s lead from the start, and that hadn’t changed. Kara’s reasons were much more dramatic, and involved intricate scenarios Lena could never imagine on her own, and her explanations included props, and sometimes Lena had to read off a script Kara had prepared.

Either way, Lena didn’t really understand why they were keeping the secret from Alex. Well, Kara said that’s what the plan was, but she was currently sitting much closer than was strictly friendly, and the hand resting on her thigh was a little too high to be platonic. Alex and Maggie sat on the couch across from them and were decidedly Not Looking At Them.

“So how did you convince this bakery to deliver cakes to your apartment?” Maggie asked, picking at the plate in her lap.

“I asked them to,” Kara shrugged.

“Yeah, but they closed like four hours ago.”

“Kara keeps them in business,” Alex said. She flicked a bit of frosting at Kara, but it didn’t land and Kara stuck her tongue out at her.

“Well, I kind of have to,” Kara laughed, elbowing Lena gently. “It’s the only place in town that caters to Lena’s ridiculous half-caf-extra-hot weirdo drinks adequately enough for her.” Lena cleared her throat and smiled through a nod while Maggie raised her eyebrows at Alex, and Alex punched her in the shoulder.

“You liked the last weirdo drink I got,” Lena said, and honestly, how was that supposed to be helpful.

“That’s because it was hot chocolate with a fancy name. You know, if you don’t like coffee, you don’t have to order it.”

“I like coffee fine,” Lena sniffed. Kara grinned and nudged at Lena’s side with her fingertips until she crumpled into her. Alex coughed.

“It’s getting late,” Maggie made a show of yawning.

“You have that big, uh,” Alex nodded to Maggie, but came up empty.

“Case,” Maggie supplied.

“Right, yes, big case. We should go.”

“Are you sure? You barely had any cake,” Kara said, turning from Lena with a frown.

“Yep,” Alex said at the same time that Maggie said, “I had three pieces.”

Kara got their jackets, and they all made plans for the next movie night, and Kara kissed Lena before the door was even shut behind them.

“God, it’s so hard to just be friends like that,” Kara sighed, wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist and leaning her forehead against her shoulder.

“Okay,” Lena said. She wasn’t going to be the one to break it to her.

—

It’s not that Lena wasn’t comfortable around Alex. They’d spent many game nights and movie marathons together on the couch in the living room, with Kara flitting around them with an endless supply of snacks, and Maggie nudging her feet up against Alex under a blanket, and Winn chattering on keeping the tone light. But Lena could count on one hand the times they’ve been left alone together, and never in her life has she been more grateful that neither one of them felt the need to fill silences.

“Kara’s on her way,” Alex spoke up finally, and okay, maybe one of them felt the need. She gestured to the phone on the table and said, “She called.”

Lena nodded and ran her fingers along the kitchen counter. Silence settled between them again, and Alex huffed. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but turned away and found something to fiddle with every time she got close to it. Just as Alex was liberating a beer from the fridge, they heard the key in the lock and both sighed in relief.

“Good,” Kara breathed as she rushed through the door. “You’re both here, I’m sorry I’m so late - God, Snapper, he - you know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you both ready?” Lena and Alex shared a look before Alex shrugged.

“Yep.”

“Great. I just have to shower quick, and we can go.”

“Quick-quick, or just quick?” Alex said hopefully, pushing her index finger into the table and leaning up on her toes.

“Just quick,” Kara tsked, and Alex deflated a little. “You know my lines are clear.” She sent a smile Lena’s way, who responded with one of her own. “Oh, and I ordered food on the way, it should be here any minute.” She disappeared into the bedroom, and Alex shrugged one shoulder at Lena before collapsing into the couch. Kara did have very strict rules for when she could and could not use her powers - it helped her separate her lives. Using super-speed for things like showering or cleaning were strictly off limits. Unless, you know, there was a really good reason. They heard a door slam and the shower kick on, and still, neither spoke until the doorbell rang.

“Kara,” Lena called over her shoulder, volume more for show than anything else. “Your food,” she called again, grabbing the bags and unpacking them at the counter.

“Yes!” Kara’s voice came from the bathroom. “Can you bring me a curry puff?” Lena looked uncertain, and when she looked up from the take out containers, Alex’s eyebrows were raised.

“Ah,” Lena said. “I suppose I should,” she shook her head. “Perhaps it would be more appropriate if,” she tried, but had no idea what would be more appropriate. She sighed and let her shoulders sag a little, but grabbed the container and marched into the bedroom, ignoring Alex’s wide-eyed stare the entire way.

“God, thank you so much,” Kara leaned out of the shower and ate a whole curry puff from Lena’s hand in one bite. “I’m starving. I skipped lunch.”

“Kara, are we sure this is the message you’d like to send your sister?”

“She knows I get crazy when I skip a meal.”

“Okay.”

—

“I want to tell Alex about us.”

Lena looked up from her dinner with wide eyes, but Kara held up a hand before she could say anything. She’d been quiet all evening, fussing over the dishes in the sink and the laundry she had forgotten to fold, and Lena knew that is was best to just give her a minute to organize her feelings. “I know we said it was safer this way, but these secrets are killing me.” Lena put her fork down and folded her hands together in front of her as Kara stood from the table and started to pace.

“I tell her everything,” Kara folded one arm over her stomach and covered her face with the other. “It took so much for her to tell me about Maggie, and I hate keeping this from her. I feel like I’m lying every time she asks me how I am, or how my weekend was, or what I did after work. She wants so badly for me to be as happy as she is, and I really want to tell her things like how green your eyes are in the morning, and how sweet and soft you are when nobody is around - and sometimes even when they are - and that I’ve never felt like this about anyone or anything before, and please say something before I combust.”

“I’m sorry,” Lena nodded, making sure to speak softly and standing to reach out to the frantic girl across from her. “It’s just,” she paused and looked a little unsure of herself, which was a position she was wholly unfamiliar with, “I thought you had already told her.” Kara stopped pacing.

“What?”

“And, I just want to remind you that you thought it would be safer this way. I have millions of dollars invested in security systems and sleep quite soundly.”

“No, what about Alex? Why would you think I already told her?”

“Kara.”

Kara folded both arms across her chest now and turned to face Lena directly,and Lena sighed because she had been waiting for this conversation, but she hadn’t been looking forward to it.

“You’re not the best at secrets,” she said as gently as she could, and Kara gasped.

“I beg your pardon,” she said when she was done stuttering through a pointedly incredulous laugh. “I am great at secrets.”

“I love you,” Lena stepped forward and took Kara’s hands in her own. “But you’re not. And if you think that you behave platonically toward me in her presence, we need to have a talk.”

“I keep the biggest secret,” Kara shook her head. Lena pursed her lips. “Actively.” They were quiet for a beat, and then another, and then one more before Kara’s eyes flicked around the living room anxiously.

“Okay,” Lena nodded and dropped her hands, moving back around the table to continue her meal. “So, you want to tell Alex?”

“I,” Kara looked confused. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

Kara still looked a little confused, but she sat back down at the table. She was halfway through her mountain of potstickers and lo mein before she dropped her fork and sighed.

“You have to tell me,” she said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on.”

Lena sighed, set her fork down again and said, “Literally everyone knows you’re Supergirl,” and Kara just stared at her. Lena waited for three whole minutes before she picked her fork up.

“That’s impossible,” she finally said, more of a whisper than anything else.

“I honestly thought you knew,” Lena said. “Well, I mean, at first.”

“That’s impossible.” Lena hummed, taking the opportunity to steal a potsticker from Kara’s plate while she was distracted. “I would know if they knew,” she shook her head. Lena waved her fork towards the take out containers beside them.

“You only ever order two portions of potstickers from this place, and I have never seen any less than three bags full arrive.”

“They have big portions,” Kara said. “That’s why I order from there.”

“The delivery guy winks at you when you tip him and tells you to have a super night.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“When you first met me, you told me you arrived via flying bus.”

“That doesn’t count,” Kara’s ears turned a little pink at that one. “You fluster me.”

“Okay,” Lena nodded. “I’ll take that back because I like it when you blush. Last week, four edible arrangements were sent to your office from different elementary schools around the city.”

“They,” Kara trailed off. “No, that,” she tried again. “Okay, full disclosure, I didn’t read the cards. I felt awful, but those pineapple stars are delicious.”

“You get free danishes from the bakery because they have a Super Special special. Every day.”

“Oh my god,” Kara’s head fell into her hands.

“It’s sweet,” Lena said. “They love you. No one will tell. It’s all of National City’s little secret.”

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Kara groaned between her fingers. Lena bit her lip.

“What about that time you forgot you weren’t wearing your suit under your clothes and took to the skies half naked?”

“Oh my god,” Kara groaned again. Maybe sometimes perspective wasn’t helpful.

—

Lena knew there was an explosion. The walls of her office cracked open, and her desk splintered, and something was on fire. Maybe more than one something. Maybe everything. She knew there was an explosion, and she knew it had everything to do with her last name, and she knew this wouldn’t be the last time she watched the world literally crumble around her. What she didn’t know, now, was where she was, or what exactly knocked her out, or when she could expect to regain the use of her muscles.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Where is she?”

The room was spinning and she felt a little like she might tip off the side of the bed if she kept her eyes open for very long. Every color seemed muted, or too bright, or wrong. She felt like someone’s hands were covering her ears, but Lena picked out Kara’s voice through everything else. She wanted to call out, but her tongue was heavy, and someone was poking her arm with something sharp, and she had to shut her eyes tightly to try to make sense of any one piece of this situation.

“It’s not that bad,” she heard again, closer now.

“Get out of my way, Alex.” Kara. That was Kara. She felt soft hands against her face, her neck, her chest. She heard a shaky sort of hiccup, and it took more effort than expected to open her eyes. The bright blur in front of her let out a very wet laugh, and Lena focused very hard on the blue eyes that were not spinning at the same rate as the rest of the room.

“You’re okay,” Kara said, and then something else that was too soft for her to make out, so she just closed her eyes and gave a small nod. “She’s okay?” Kara had turned away, she could tell, but didn’t stop touching her, which was good. It made her feel less floaty.

“We need to keep her tonight,” Alex said. “But she’s okay.”

“She’s okay,” Kara breathed.

“Kara, we need to discuss you breaking protocol. J’onn is -”

“Can we do this later?”

“Not really,” Alex was getting louder.

“Please, Alex, just a minute?” There was a pause, and Lena felt everything get a little quieter, a little less fuzzy, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Kara clearly in front of her, eyes wide and pleading with her sister. Alex caught Lena’s eye from her spot in the doorway and sighed, looking both concerned and supremely uncomfortable.

“You have three minutes before I run out of excuses,” she said as the door clicked shut behind her.

“Kara.”

Kara spun to face her - she couldn’t tell if she used her super speed or not.

“Lena,” she breathed.

“You’re not being very subtle.”

“That’s the first thing you say to me?”

“You should tell her.”

“You’re okay, by the way,” Kara said with a smile.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll tell her later.” Kara climbed up on Lena’s bed and nudged her until there was enough room for her to curl next to her. The weight of Kara’s head against her shoulder was - helpful. She felt grounded and warm and 100% more tethered, and the room stood still, finally, as Kara’s hand skimmed across her stomach and grabbed hold of her hip.

“Not subtle,” Lena said again before shutting her eyes, and this time, the floating felt nice.

—

“You shouldn’t be up.”

“Don’t mother me,” Lena waved off Kara’s grabby hands and leaned into the cane she was stuck with until her leg healed. Kara’s apartment was bright, and comfortable, and she had finally learned how to feel at home here, but Kara had been hovering for days, and Lena just wanted to walk to the bathroom by herself every once in awhile.

“Don’t tell me how to help you,” Kara clucked back at her while Alex tried very hard to look busy with her bottle of beer. Kara had been jittery all night, and Alex was doing her best to give her some space and maybe pretend she didn’t have eyes. “Have you eaten?”

“You dropped seven pizzas on my balcony this afternoon. You didn’t even stop, you just threw them. Jess nearly had a heart attack.”

“You should give her a raise,” Alex nodded from the couch. Lena considered her for a moment and then nodded back.

“But did you eat them?”

“Not all of them,” Lena said. She took a bottle of water from the fridge and wished for something stronger. Kara wouldn’t allow it while she was healing. She caught Kara’s glare and said, “Nobody can eat seven pizzas, Kara.”

“So what movie did we just have to watch that I had to cancel my plans for?” Alex finally spoke up and Lena sent her a silent thank-you-nod. She really appreciated that they could communicate almost entirely through stilted body language.

“Maggie cancelled your plans,” Kara corrected. She lowered her glasses and stared down a bag of microwave popcorn until it popped on the kitchen counter. Lena raised her eyebrows at her and she shrugged. “It was an emergency.”

“Yeah, but then I made plans to drink a bottle of wine and marathon Battlestar Galactica, which I had to cancel.”

“Those don’t count as plans. Those are sad plans,” Kara shook her head and shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

“I was present for the Desperate Housewives Marathon of 2015, so you can get right off that high horse of yours.”

“I have to tell you something,” Kara finally shouted, arms straight at her sides, eyes closed.

“Oh,” Alex said, eyes wides, hands up in front of her. “No movie?” Lena gave her a look over Kara’s shoulder, but Alex’s smile just got sweeter.

“I know this might come as a surprise,” Kara started, relaxing her shoulders and pushing her hands down flat in front of her. “Maybe we should sit. For this. Do you want to sit?”

“I am sitting.”

“Maybe I should sit.”

“Maybe you should just tell me,” Alex said. “Or at least give me some popcorn while I wait out your episode.” Kara gave her a look, and Alex’s grin dropped into a Very Serious Face. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. Please continue.”

“You may have noticed recently some changes in behavior,” Kara started slowly, looking to Lena for help.

“Maybe I should give you two a moment,” Lena said, gesturing toward the bedroom, but Kara gave her a panicked look and Alex stood to snatch one of Kara’s hands in her own, and everything about their body language was confusing Lena. She stood stuck, halfway between planted firmly in the room and completely fleeing the scene.

“Stay,” Alex said gently, and Kara swallowed and let out a long breath.

“Lena and I are dating,” she said, softly, firmly, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenching. Alex waited for her to relax a little, before she ducked her head to catch Kara’s eyes with a smile.

“Yeah,” she said.

“What?” Kara’s voice cracked, and Lena took a few steps forward to rest a hand at the small of Kara’s back.

“Maggie said I should act surprised, but I’m not going to pretend with you,” Alex said. She sent a half smile across to Lena, and then a full one to Kara, who looked like she was beyond emotion completely. “I’m glad you found someone.”

“I told you you’re bad at secrets,” Lena teased softly, nudging Kara’s back before getting swatted away.

“So not the time, babe.” Alex took a step back at that, though.

“Damn it,” she said, shaking her head. Kara looked confused. “I bet Maggie $20 you weren’t up to pet names yet.”

“You should really stop betting her,” Lena said.

“I’m going to win one day.”

#supercorp fic #apparently this is a thing i am doing #or have done #i'm sorry #feel free to tell me to go away

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thewebofslime · 5 years

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Three San Diegans were among four Americans killed in a helicopter crash in Kenya. NBC 7's Bridget Naso has more on this developing story. (Published 7 minutes ago) Police Looking for Man Who Attacked Conservative Activist in Berkeley Sutter Health to Open New Hospital Saturday Millbrae Taser Death Investigation Tesla Finally Launches Model 3 for $35K 3 San Diegans Killed in Helicopter Crash in Kenya Now Playing Landmark Case Involving Cadet Who Died in Skiing Accident Up Next RAW: Oakland Teachers Take to Picket Lines During Strike OUSD Board Votes to Approve $22M in Budget Cuts San Jose Home Prices Increase Exponentially Congress Ramps Up Investigations Guerneville Homeless Helps Clean Up Russian River Southwest Starts Selling $49 Tickets From Oakland to Hawaii San Jose Team Competes on NBC's 'World of Dance' Elon Musk: Tesla's Next Vehicle to Be Unveiled March 14 Vehicle Into Power Pole Blocks Roads in Campbell Superheroes Brave Weather For Fun Run Benefiting Parkinson's Teachers in Oakland Vote to End 7-Day Strike Amazon Prime Truck Flips Over in San Lorenzo 74-Year-Old Bicyclist Injured in Hit and Run in Berkele Central Marin Police Negotiate With Armed Suspect Inside Home San Ramon Valley Teachers to Decide Whether or Not to Strike Police Arrest Suspect in Connection With Mountain View Trail Assault Parents of Deceased West Point Cadet Ask for Genetic Material Clean Up Begins After Historic Floods in the North Bay Saturday Storm Knocks Down Tree on Highway 12 in Napa Woman Buried in SF Cliff Collapse Identified by Loved Ones Film Aims at Teaching Teens the Dangers of Drunk Driving Sebastopol Merchants Grapple With Flooding Aftermath Hackers Using Racy Blackmail 'Sextortion' Scheme Police Looking for Man Who Attacked Conservative Activist in Berkeley Sutter Health to Open New Hospital Saturday Millbrae Taser Death Investigation Tesla Finally Launches Model 3 for $35K 3 San Diegans Killed in Helicopter Crash in Kenya Now Playing Landmark Case Involving Cadet Who Died in Skiing Accident Up Next RAW: Oakland Teachers Take to Picket Lines During Strike OUSD Board Votes to Approve $22M in Budget Cuts Three San Diegans were among four Americans killed in a helicopter crash on an island in Lake Turkana in northern Kenya, police said Monday. San Diego residents Anders Asher Jesiah Burke, known to family as Asher, and Brandon Howe Stapper, and Coronado resident Dave Baker were in a helicopter that crashed in Central Island National Park soon after takeoff on Sunday, Kenya's Civil Aviation Authority said in a statement. Second Man Seems to Be Free of AIDS Virus After Transplant The United States Embassy confirmed Burke and Stapper died in the crash, along with Colorado resident Kyle John Forti. Baker remained unnamed until Monday evening when the Coronado Mayor Richard Bailey confirmed in a Facebook that he was also killed. House Democrats Launch Aggressive New Trump Probe "Dave was an amazing family man, businessman, and adventurer. He had an infectious laugh and made friends wherever he went. Dave lived life to the fullest. My thoughts and prayers go out to all of Dave’s loved ones, as we all try to make sense out of this tragic event. I will miss Dave terribly," Mayor Bailey's post said. Russian Businessman Linked to Trump Accused of Hacking The pilot was also killed. Both had established businesses in San Diego. Stapper got his start as an entrepreneur in the printing business, according to his website. Burke founded his company Ads Inc. Media, now known as Bland, in 2015, according to his LinkedIn profile. Burke's sister, Jarah, told NBC News that the name Asher means happiness and that her brother lived more than anyone she knew. Virginia Woman Wakes Up to Kiss From Stranger in Her Bed A friend of Stapper described him to NBC 7 as humble and generous. "He was so generous and not only with his time but he was generous with his finances," friend Ingrid Rainey said. "He was always willing to help. He never thought he was above anybody." $1.5 Billion Mega Millions Jackpot Claimed in South Carolina Rainey said she felt blessed and honored to call Stapper on of her good friends. The crash happened when two helicopters took off after a visit to the Lobolo tented camp, according to an internal police report seen by The Associated Press. Notorious California Serial Killer Juan Corona Dead at 85 The helicopter lost contact soon after takeoff and crashed around 8:30 p.m. The aviation authority said a search and rescue mission found the wreckage shortly after 3 a.m. Stapper's and Burke's girlfriends were in the second helicopter which landed safely, NBC News reported. Watch: Wild Wrong-Way Chase Ends in Crash on Pa. Highway An investigation was underway into the cause of the crash, the country's aviation authority said. Last month two Americans were among five people killed when their plane crashed as they were traveling to Lodwar near Lake Turkana. Kenyan police had reported three Americans killed but the U.S. Embassy confirmed two. At Least 23 Dead After Tornado Slams Alabama Community Sophie Felix with America’s Children of Fallen Heroes said the agency was deeply saddened to hear of Stapper's death. “He was a wonderful entrepreneur, world traveler and inspiring friend to our San Diego community. How he lived his life by spreading happiness and joy to others was admirable and Brandon will be greatly missed," Felix said.

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sending-the-message · 7 years

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Furfur by Ilunibi

Going to college was hard on both me and Dead Coyote. Of course he was proud of me--he’d watched me juggle exorcisms and calculus the entire time I was in high school--but we’d grown comfortable with one another’s presence. Dependent, I guess is a less nice way to put it in my case. He could take care of himself a bit more than I could take care of me, and I didn’t realize it until I was standing in my dorm with my scant few belongings that I honestly had no idea what the hell I was going to do with myself.

Eighteen. Free. Lucky enough to get a room to myself. Yet, there I was, standing dead in the center of a bare-bones room staring at the full-length mirror on the back of the door, confused and scared and honestly wishing that I could just throw my acceptance letter in the face of the dean and go back home. Home, of course, being Dead Coyote’s couch. I know it smelled like skunk and Camel cigarettes, but it was also warm and cozy and familiar.

And welcoming. I didn’t exactly feel wanted in college.

Most people who practice my particular craft don’t advertise it because it’s a pretty isolating way of living, even with other believers. I found out after trying to join the pagan alliance on campus that the little Wiccan do-gooders who preached about white magic and crystals didn’t fancy the idea of including a newcomer whose entire magical history revolved around the Ars Goetia and necromancy. They heard “left-hand path” and assumed that I was some misguided, edgy freshman or some poor, lost soul who was destined to live a dark and miserable life brought upon me by vengeful demons and restless raccoon ghosts. I told myself they were just intimidated by the fact that I had nearly a decade of experience and actually got results, that they were all fad-witches who’d give it up once it stopped making them feel like manic pixie dream girls, though I knew honestly that I was just bitter and lonely.

I talked pretty frequently to Dead Coyote, though, and that was my respite. Where most college kids would call their mom to ask how to do their laundry or cook a meal that wasn’t ramen and Kraft dinner, I’d call and ask about whether candle color mattered for casual non-Goetic invocations, how to get wax out of carpeting, and how to keep a smoke alarm from going off. The latter he had a few different answers to for several different reasons, and I appreciated his expertise. It probably saved me a fine or two.

One week became two weeks became a month, and I really hadn’t made any friends or done anything beyond my basic, nightly rituals and piles upon piles of homework. Fortunately, by the time August ended and September began, I found that I was perfectly capable of operating like an adult and even found a couple of casual acquaintances who’d wave at me in public. It still wasn’t the same, though. Going back to an empty dorm was a blessing and a curse because, while I didn’t have to worry about somebody asking me why I had satchels of grass drying in my window and candles stockpiled in my closet like I was preparing for Armageddon, I also didn’t have anyone to sit around and shoot the shit with. And honestly, years of being part of a team made magic on my own feel painfully lonely and much less powerful.

“Princess, you are just forty-five minutes away,” Dead Coyote groaned into the phone when I called him, crying.

“I don’t have a car, DC.”

“Yeah, but you know who does? Me. Do you wanna hang this weekend or what?”

I told him that it would be a waste of gas to drive me back and forth. He told me it would be worth the trip. While he’d enjoyed the calm in my absence for the first few days, the quiet was starting to grate on his nerves. And, if I felt so strongly about him spending his cash on gas, he’d just stop by and visit me to cut down on fuel. If I wanted him to stay the whole weekend, hell, he’d just sleep in his car. He’d slept in worse places, he said, though I told him I’d rather him not elaborate. I didn’t want to know what was more disgusting than the backseat of his Grand Prix.

When he arrived, my RA--who just so happened to be one of the leaders of the pagan alliance--eyeballed him suspiciously in the lobby as she tapped her pen against the clipboard with the visitor registry. I can still remember the look of disbelief on her face, tucking her chin down and glaring up at me over her glasses. All she would have needed was a wad of gum smacking in her mouth and she’d look like an extra in an ‘80s movie.

“So, is he your--?”

I told her that he was my older brother which, in retrospect, was a dumb idea. I’m pretty sure that if somebody was asked to draw the polar opposite of me in every way, they would have had a quick sketch of Dead Coyote. She shifted her gaze between us and offered us the tightest, most unconvincing smile I’ve ever seen a person manage.

“I’ll just put down he’s your… uh, boyfriend.”

Dead Coyote laughed a little harder than he should have.

If he felt awkward stomping around a crowded building full of awkward college girls, he didn’t show it. They definitely felt that he was out of place, though, gawking and whispering as I just kept chirping at the side of his head about local gossip while he listed off my neighbors and classmates who’d gotten knocked up, arrested, and knocked up then arrested. It was satisfying to hear that, after I was off to college to make something of myself, Jessica Schneider had found her final form as a white-trash party girl who had been locked up after being found with cocaine in her possession. I shouldn’t have laughed, but I was petty enough to still hate her.

While we chatted, I noticed Dead Coyote growing more and more distracted the further we went down the hall. My room was situated at the very end next to a dead light but his eyes kept drifting around like he was looking for something--or someone--in particular. By the time we were at the middle of the corridor, he was casting worried glances over his shoulder, and at the end, he was walking completely backwards. The girl who lived across from me cursed at him when he nearly mowed her down, but he didn’t seem to notice she existed. His brows were furrowed, his lip raised in a mix of disgust and bewilderment, but try as I might I could not figure out what he was looking at.

Residents? A chip in the wall? A bug? Somebody’s gaudy door decoration? Given who it was, he honestly could have been distracted by anything. Even after getting clean-ish, his attention span was as bad as his memory.

When I opened the door, he gently bumped me inside with his hip and ducked in after me like getting to my room was a stealth operation. It shut with a bang that echoed like a gunshot and I realized that I hadn’t even had a chance to get my key out of the lock. I stared at him, he stared at me. After a moment of me drawling like an idiot while I tried to decide whether to ask him what his problem was or if I could get my key, he plopped down on my bed and nodded his head toward the door.

“Who’s in room 14B?”

I didn’t know. When I told him, his confusion turned to concern and he immediately began to ransack my desk. Ignoring anything scandalous he found, he dragged out a pad of yellow legal paper and the fattest marker he could find, scribbling a magic triangle dead in the center with a single word of wisdom bolded and underlined directly beneath it.

STOP.

And with that, he was out the door. I followed him through a smattering of freshman girls as he explained, a bit too loudly, that something was very, very wrong in room 14B. I flinched as a few of them tittered when he started into the metaphysics, preaching darkness and bad vibes and demonology. Yet, more than the embarrassment of being exposed to a few nonbelievers, I was intrigued because I couldn’t really wrap my mind around not being the only practitioner on campus who dabbled in anything heavier than aromatherapy and meditating under trees. Hell, I was almost hopeful.

The stuff he told me was admittedly pretty grim, though. There was power coming from that room, like electricity, and he had no idea how I hadn’t noticed before. He thought he’d taught me better than that. Whatever it was, he said he could feel that the air was so charged that it was nearly painful. The kind of static that makes your hair stand on end and your arms break out in goose skin and makes your head pulse and your teeth hurt.

“They’re up to something and they suck at it, and it’s gonna backfire like a sonuvabitch,,” he explained in front of me and a curious blonde clutching a bowl of Captain Crunch. He stopped in front of 14B, glowered at the tacky cork board hanging on the door, and unceremoniously unpinned a happy little note written in glittery purple pen. It was quickly replaced with his warning, a warning he then had to explain to Cereal Girl after she asked with a full mouth what the fancy triangle was for.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly, thankfully. Dead Coyote taught me a few new invocations, he helped me with some spells I’d been tinkering with, we threw rocks at cars, and I got to eat actual food that wasn’t the prison-slop the dining hall shelled out. It’s hard to imagine that there was ever a day where an A&W burger would make anyone feel like they were sitting at a banquet in the halls of Valhalla, but you do not understand how special it felt to be eating food that wasn’t university pizza.

After he returned me to my humble abode and picked a parking lot to camp in, I found the RA office empty and the lobby strangely quiet. I tromped up to my floor and started down the hall, taking a quick glance at 14B to see if the message had been received. I half expected it to still be there, but it was gone, ripped off so violently that I could see a shred of lined paper still clinging to the cork board. It was concerning, but I decided I wasn’t the person to fight Dead Coyote’s battles for him.

“Miranda wasn’t happy.”

A voice stopped me and I turned, curious, to see the girl with the bowl of cereal from earlier. This time she had a Hot Pocket, munching as nonchalantly as she had been before. If Dead Coyote ever had a spirit animal, I’m pretty sure it would be Cereal Girl.

I asked who Miranda was and Cereal Girl looked back at room 14B and pursed her sauce-stained lips.

“Miranda? The RA? You really don’t know who she is?”

The RA? That was a shock. I remembered back to my very brief attempt at interacting with the pagan alliance and how she had been so fucking bitter when I told her what it was I did in my spare time. Her, with her pretty auburn curls and her button nose and bohemian earrings and weird, sepia-tinted Instagram selfies. She was the kind of person to shop at Whole Foods and refuse to wear a bra because they were against the will of Mother Gaia. She was not exactly the type of girl I pegged as being capable of setting off all of Dead Coyote’s alarms.

But, I didn’t tell Cereal Girl this. I just told her that, aside from some brief interactions here and there, I wasn’t really familiar with her. I didn’t even know that was her room. I hadn’t even known her name.

“Huh. Weird. ‘Cause she knew exactly who left her that note. I didn’t even have to tell her.”

She gestured at my room at the end of the hall and told me she’d returned the favor. A cold fear filled my stomach and it dropped like a rock straight through the rest of me. While I doubted that somebody on the fast road to fucking up basic ceremonial magic could do much to threaten me, she was still somebody who was on the fast road to fucking up basic ceremonial magic and that was dangerous in and of itself. And if she had it out for me? Hoo, boy, she may not hit me, but with how tedious and detail-oriented it all is, I could imagine what she could do to herself or somebody else.

When I reached my door, though, all that was taped to it was a flowery piece of stationery with a single crest on it: Glasyalabolas. No pentacles, no Sigillum Dei, nothing. Just the crest of Glasylabolas, drawn incorrectly in that same purple gel pen as the note Dead Coyote unpinned from her door. Honestly, it was kind of amusing, but I knew enough to take it as a threat. Even if she was horribly inept, she still had the audacity to try to summon the patron demon of manslaughter in my dorm room. I briefly wondered what she would think if she knew I’d danced with that dog before.

“Okay, what does that mean?” Cereal Girl asked. I untaped the paper, took a pencil out of my bag, and wrote Miss Miranda a note on the back. My new friend trailed me as I walked back to 14B but I never said a word. I just left my new nemesis a friendly little bit of advice for her to find the next morning.

That’s not how this works. Stop it.

As soon as I woke up the following day, I was out at Dead Coyote’s camping spot and climbing in the passenger’s seat of his car. I resolved that I would just spend a lazy Sunday outside of my dorm so I wouldn’t have to think too hard about Miranda and her hypocrisy. We wound up near some nature trail just outside of town and the entire day was spent talking about life and our ambitions and getting back to the basics of him teaching me Spanish profanity and me telling him about my days at school.

We only decided to head back to civilization when the sun started hanging low in the sky, Dead Coyote pitching his last cigarette and sighing, “Well, princess, let’s get you home.”

We only made it partway.

There’s a stretch of road just down the hill from my old dorm that was typically lit up like Vegas at night. I guess enough pedestrians complained that drivers nearly killed them and enough drivers complained about the people-shaped deer that the city council decided it was a good idea to make sure daytime never ended in that one spot. I didn’t immediately get worried when, for the first time in ever, we cruised up the street in pitch-black nothingness, but the closer we got to my final destination for the night I began to feel a prickling across my skin, like static. Side-eying Dead Coyote proved he wasn’t really reacting to it, but the tingle became a burn and that burn became a sharp prick of pain. I flinched in my seat, then smashed into the dashboard as Dead Coyote slammed the brakes.

I would have cussed, but when I looked up, Dead Coyote was staring dead ahead like an alien spacecraft had landed in front of his car. Nose bleeding, I peeked over the edge of the dashboard and struggled to focus my eyes. For a second, all I saw was color and movement: swaying and pale gray. It hurt to look at and the sharp prick of pain grew into a throbbing, stabbing warmth that roiled in my belly and tried to tear its way out of my skin.

“Oh. Shit.”

Dead Coyote’s voice was low, level, but his eyes were pure panic. I saw why when my double vision finally melded together and there, standing in the middle of the road, was a pallid deer with bright, blazing eyes. They were the same color as lightning, hot and white but, for whatever reason, my brain interpreted it as blue.

“Oh… shit,” I echoed, watching as the deer--with strangely human confidence--raised its antlered head high and sauntered across the road. Dead Coyote watched quietly, poked his head out of the car window, and mumbled under his breath as it vanished into the trees. Even outside of the glare of his headlights, it still seemed to give off its own ghastly glow.

He pulled over immediately, dug through the trash in his floorboard for his emergency cigarettes, then jumped across me to grab a flashlight from his glove box. And some chalk. And every leftover salt packet he had collected from every fast food restaurant he’d been to in the past twelve months, which he ripped open and dumped into the chest pocket on his flannel jacket.

“Get out of the car, princess. You know what that was.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. We both knew what and who had just traipsed past us and the fact that he was just wandering around freely like a stray dog did not bode well for anyone or anything in his path.

Furfur.

You can go ahead and giggle at the name--it’s kind of stupid--but if you ignore the name and look to the meat of the matter, Furfur is not the kind of demon you’d want to square off with. Grimoire entries about him are vague and make him seem non-threatening--a mischievous deer who compulsively lies and likes shiny rocks and playing Cupid--but the problem with those entries is that they’re so vague because controlling him is an absolute bitch that nobody wants to bother with. Only under very specific circumstances will he work with a conjurer and, even then, you have to have every failsafe in check to keep him honest. If he’s dishonest, he will waste no time in trying to talk you down the most self-destructive path he can manage.

Dead Coyote, in his younger days, found that out the hard way.

More concerning though was that he was physically there, skin, bones, antlers, and all. Now, even though a lot of these stories I’ve told you would make you think that ceremonial magic is flash, pizazz, and physical interaction, you have to remember that the stories I pick out are ones that are unique and interesting. Most people into ceremonial magic never see anything overtly odd in their entire lives, and even those of us who have experience intense feelings more than we actually get a gander at the big guys. Even if you do see them up-close and personal, they’re normally bound. They can’t really leave where they were summoned, at least if you’re doing it right.

But somebody wasn’t doing it right.

I don’t even think we checked to see if anyone was coming before we bolted across the road--Dead Coyote scrambling over the hood of the car in his panic--and we ran a pretty fair distance before either of us thought to turn on the flashlight. Stumbling, hissing, spitting, we tore through the underbrush even as it threatened to tear through us, blackberry briars and switch-worthy shrubs grabbing at our clothes and lashing across our faces. I felt blood dripping down my forehead and my arms and saw Dead Coyote with briar-covered vines wrapped around his jeans and twigs stuck in his hair. The entire time, he was grumbling and groaning like a teenager bitching about doing his chores.

“Stupid goddamn 14B bitch thinks she knows what she’s doin’ but she don’t know, princess, she has no goddamned idea what she’s doin’ and she’s lucky as fuck that I’m here because I actually read more than one goddamned motherfucking piece of shit book on the subject unlike her dumbass and I fucking swear, princess, she better hope I don’t find her ‘cause--”

This went on for a while. One continuous sentence without so much as a pause that lasted all the way to a clearing among the trees that eventually faded into what looked like a local farm. Overgrown wild grass was separated from trimmed grazing ground by a rickety wooden fence, the entire expanse illuminated by the moon. And there, standing proudly like he was waiting for us, was the deer.

Dead Coyote reached for the salt in his pocket. Through some chance miracle, our stomping around in the underbrush between the street and the clearing hadn’t ripped a hole in it. I expressed concern pretty much immediately about how effective salt would be against a bona fide Goetic power, but he just glowered at me and huffed a tangled strand of hair out of his face.

“Princess, the only thing better than salt is holy water, and I ain’t packin’ that today. I do have, like, what? Half a cup of Burger King salt? We make do, a’ight?”

Slowly, we crept toward the deer. Looking back, I’m not quite sure why, as Furfur was watching us the whole time, painfully aware of what we were doing, rigid and strong and unwavering. He didn’t really believe we would do anything to him, or that we could even if we tried. Part of me wants to believe it was out of habit--deer are normally so easily spooked--but I know that I was absolutely petrified. I had never encountered anything so strong that was unbound, and I could still remember that feeling of electricity and pain in my stomach when we nearly hit it with the car. I didn’t want to be near Furfur but I knew in the bottom of my heart that the only person qualified to get rid of him in the area was Dead Coyote, and armed only with salt packets? Well, he sure as shit couldn’t do it alone.

We were almost within salt-throwing distance when Furfur turned to me and smiled. Human teeth in a deer mouth, stretched as wide as it could, grinning at me with a glint of curiosity and maliciousness in its eyes. That tearing feeling in my abdomen came back and every nerve in my skin flared to life like a thousand white-hot pins were being jammed into me. Dead Coyote opened his mouth to speak, but his voice trailed off when I keeled over.

“Lonely. Empty.”

Furfur’s voice was an echoing, monotone whisper. His mouth moved in a way far too human to be anything but horrifying.

“Come to harm me. I can help you.”

I still don’t know why I remember everything he said. Maybe it’s because of the fact he was so powerful and supernatural that he just willed his little speech to burn itself into my mind. Maybe I did it myself, seeing as trauma can be a bitch. But, while I was rolling on the ground, clutching my stomach, vision blurry and nerve endings screaming, he spoke to me. Slow, rhythmic, almost taunting, and every word made my heart squeeze like it would burst.

He told me how disgusting I was. He told me how I made my mother miserable, how much she wished that she had aborted me. He told me that my father had forgotten I existed and was glad to be in prison, away from me. He harped about how I would one day die alone, forgotten and unloved, in the same shithole apartments I grew up in and that it would be just like Cheryl. I’d choke on my own vomit and nobody would find me for days, the victim of a low and savage upbringing. And about Cheryl? Oh, he talked on and on about Cheryl, smiling and speaking in a melodious, almost sing-song pattern that was somehow still as flat as its words before.

“You hated her, did you not?”

I choked that I didn’t.

“No. You did. You were jealous. She was stealing him, yes? You are glad she is dead.”

Dead Coyote’s lips were a tight line, his muscles taut. It was as though he was frozen in time, though I know it was just the mention of Cheryl that choked him up. There was something furious in him, a fire I could almost feel. I was afraid, so fucking afraid, that he hated me because of everything that fucking deer was spewing out of its mouth. Tears welled up in my eyes and I sobbed, loudly, that I didn’t want Cheryl dead.

“No. No. You wish for something else. Tell me what it is… princess.”

He snapped. It had been a long time since I had seen Dead Coyote lose his absolute shit, but he exploded toward Furfur like he was launched out of a cannon, salt balled up in his fist like he was planning on punching a deer in the face. Furfur only tilted his head and chuckled, perfectly still even as Dead Coyote began to bark dispelling incantations at him and shovel handfuls of salt in his face.

When the salt-well ran dry, he pulled a folding knife out of his pants pocket and took it to his arm. I didn’t see what he carved. I found out much later on that he now has a nice, jagged, but rather impressive scar in the shape of a magic triangle hiding amongst his tattoos. It’s the one seal that can control Furfur, the one that can make him play nice and go home.

But I missed the excitement afterward, being curled into a ball on the grass and heaving sobs into my knees until I heard Dead Coyote stop screaming. I hardly even noticed the pain receding over Furfur’s voice still ringing in my head, only snapping out of my trance when I felt something thud to the ground next to me.

A deer skull, with half-finished carvings riddling the bone that were redone with smudged paint marker. Furfur’s crest was right smack in the middle of its forehead, in metallic silver. A smaller, almost insignificant Seal of Solomon was beneath it, perfectly centered and meticulously drawn. I sniffled as I cursed Miranda the RA for being too stupid to realize that placement and sizing in sigils were more important than aesthetics. You don’t make the demon more powerful than the controller, and you better use the right damn pentacle. No wonder her pet was running wild.

I think the most pain I ever suffered was still aching from Furfur’s aura and trekking back to the car, and I almost begged Dead Coyote to let me just sleep it off in the clearing. It was worth it to go back to campus--me hobbling in and clutching my everything while he strolled in behind me holding his trophy by the antlers--to watch as he walked straight to the RA’s office, found little Miranda sitting at the desk watching Youtube videos, and slammed the skull so hard into the ground that the bone splintered and shattered in a dozen different directions. Miranda screamed and jumped out of her seat.

Dead Coyote snarled.

“If you don’t know how to walk the left-hand path, stay on your own goddamn road. And if I ever hear you have tried to summon some bullshit again, or if you think about hexing my girl, I will throw out every single goddamn reservation I have about doing harm unto others. Do you understand?”

She didn’t call campus police, for whatever reason. Maybe because she knew she fucked up. Either way, when aspirin and Tylenol did nothing to make me stop jittering and groaning, I decided to skip my dorm for the night and head down to Dead Coyote’s camp site at the parking lot down the road. We sat up for hours upon hours, blazing through a secret stash of dashboard weed despite his insistence that I not touch the stuff. It was the only thing that made me stop hurting, though, and that was all he cared about in the end.

I apologized, again and again, bawling in a cloud of smoke about all of the things Furfur said, everything about Cheryl. He watched me, eyebrow raised, before handing me a napkin from the center console.

“Ah, princess. C’mon. It’s Furfur. He lies about everything if he ain’t sealed properly. I know you didn’t hate Cher. You cried as much as I did when she died.”

He took a drag off his joint.

“You were jealous, though.”

When the weed was gone and he’d given me one of his patented, stoned-out-of-his-mind, how-are-you-this-goddamn-wise-when-you-can’t-even-remember-your-phone-number pep talks, he dropped me back off at my dorm. Miranda was gone, the RA’s office empty, and the lobby deserted. When I got to the hall, only Cereal Girl remained, staring at my door with half a Twix sticking out of her mouth like a cigar. Our eyes met, but she didn’t have to say a word. She just smirked and laughed, crumbs splattering across the ground and, probably because I was high as fuck, I couldn’t help but laugh, too.

Taped to my door was another crest of Glasyalabolas.

Yet again, Miranda had drawn it wrong.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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celticnoise · 7 years

Link

ALAN McINALLY was one of the pundits on Sky Sports last night along side that other former Celt, Charlie Nicholas. CQN interviewed Big Rambo in December last year and we thought we’d re-produce this today as many of you will have missed it. Hope you enjoy the read…

Alan McInally signed for Celtic from Ayr United in the summer of 1984 for a fee of £100,000 as manager Davie Hay attempted to add strength to a sophisticated but rather light-weight Celtic attack. The son of Kilmarnock legend Jackie McInally, Alan had some family pedigree to live up to.

You might remember a goal he scored in the 1-1 draw with Rangers in May 1985 on the night that Police horses controversially charged down a packed Janefield Street, full of departing Celtic fans, and it is with God’s grace that no one was killed in that incident. This unprovoked and reckless charge of Police horses into a narrow street was never explained and received much less coverage that the unfortunate Police horse skelped with a Hamburger one Tuesday night in December down at Manchester.

Just after that game against Manchester City, CQN caught up with the player that the Celtic supporters called Rambo for a chat about his time at the club and how he sees thing progressing for Celtic under Brendan Rodgers. Rambo has some words of wisdom for young Paddy Roberts and delivers a message to Peter Lawwell that will disappoint the Celtic Chief Executive who has hopes of seeing Celtic move to play in the English/Welsh set-up in the coming years.

Here’s how our conversation went with big Rambo…

Hi Alan, first question has to be how much of an inspiration was your dad Jackie, who was a forward with Kilmarnock and Motherwell? Did you attempt to copy his style?

The one and only person who was my inspiration to become a professional footballer was always my dad. The Scots always say that you’ll never as good as dad and in this instance they were correct! He gave me great advice and encouragement yet he was also my harshest critic. We had different styles – my dad was more of an inside forward – but certainly he was my main inspirational to become a professional footballer.

Were you surprised when Davie Hay brought you to Celtic in a £100,000 deal from Ayr United in 1984?

No I was not surprised at all. My contract at Ayr United was coming end and I had numerous options to sign for clubs down south and both Celtic and Rangers came in for me. I weighed things up with my dad and decided to join Celtic. Gerry Collins, who was a great pal of the late great Tommy Burns – I loved that man – was at Ayr and he made me train in a Celtic top that he gave me and did some real hard selling to get me to go to Celtic. I was glad that I did. So I was wearing the hoops long before I joined Celtic!

Speculation persisted that you had been a boyhood Rangers fan – true or false?

Definitely false! No, I was never a Rangers fan or indeed a Celtic supporter. My parents were never religious people so there was nothing doing in that regard regarding picking sides. I’d put myself down as an Ayr United fan or even a Killie supporter, just because my dad played at Rugby Park. As far as Celtic or Rangers are concerned as I boy I don’t think I ever went to see either side play other than when they visited Somerset Park. So I didn’t support them then and I don’t support them now!

What was it like to play alongside Brian McClair, (Judas)Mo Johnston, Frank McGarvey and Mark McGhee in a team with an abundance of striking talent?

It was fantastic, actually it was a real highlight of career to be at Celtic, playing and training with the players that were at the club at that time and working with a great manager like Davie Hay. Mark McGhee came to the club a little later when he returned from his time playing in Germany – he is a really good friend of mine and incidentally I think that he’s a really good manager. I believe that he could get a top job in England again at some stage and that he’ll do very well at Motherwell, who are lucky to have him.

Playing with striking talent like that during my time at Celtic was brilliant. We all had our own goals and ambitions in the game but we were always working for the team. It was a pleasure training every day and playing alongside players of that quality.

How difficult was it for Celtic to compete with a Rangers team splashing record amounts of cash in the transfer market at the time?

We had had it our own way for a long time. Celtic were clearly the best team in Glasgow for many years and the rivalry was with Aberdeen and even Dundee United rather than Rangers in terms of winning honours. Then Souness came in and bought big, bringing in all the English lads like Butcher, Wilkins, Walters and so on. It became increasing hard for us to compete with this level of spending that was a completely new thing in Scottish football. At that time Celtic could not spend money like that – the club simply didn’t have that type of money. Aberdeen and Dundee United couldn’t either so it was a real game changer for Scottish football.

All we could do as Celtic players was to role up our sleeves and get stuck in. There was a league Cup Final that we lost to them that had little to do with the money they had been spending and more to do with them getting, let’s call it the rub of the green. So it was a challenging time for Celtic in more ways than just on the money front.

Were you frustrated at the lack of trophy success at Celtic?

Not really, we won title at that never to be forgotten afternoon at St Mirren and we won a very good Scottish Cup Final when Davie Provan put that free kick into the top corner and Frank McGarvey scored a wonderful winner. In football competition is a healthy thing and if there are more teams capable of winning trophies then that had to be good for the game, although all sorts of issues later emerged to make you think again about that. It has to be said that the frustration among the Celtic support at the big spending at Ibrox was not vented towards the Celtic players but to the Celtic board who simply weren’t up to the challenges facing the club at that time.

You left Celtic in 1987 for Aston Villa at the same time Johnston, McClair and Murdo MacLeod left the club. Why the mass exodus?

Celtic did offer me a new contract, a two year deal whereas I wanted a three year deal. But it was an offer that wasn’t anywhere near what I was looking for. However that wasn’t the main reason that I left Celtic. I left because I felt that they didn’t want me to stay. (Judas) Mo Johnston and Brian McClair had already left and I was therefore surprised and also a little disappointed that Mr McNeill didn’t make the necessary effort needed to keep me at the club. If they had offered me a 3 year contract I would have stayed. I wasn’t looking for a move, indeed I wanted to stay and play for the club, believing we could win the league and do well in Europe. I loved playing for Celtic. However it wasn’t to be and Celtic actually made it an easy decision for me as I didn’t feel particularly wanted. Every player likes a pat on the back, to feel wanted and I simply wasn’t getting that after Davie Hay was sacked so I signed for Aston Villa, when I was given the opportunity.

Frank McGarvey told CQN that when Charlie Nicholas signed for Arsenal a few years before, he increased his wages by a multiple of 23 times. What was the difference in pay you received from Villa and also from Villa to Bayern Munich?

Well I can tell you it wasn’t 23 times more! I think it increased by a factor of 2.5 times at that stage from Celtic to Villa and when I signed for Bayern Munich the wages increased tenfold, which was incredible!

Murdo went to Borussia Dortmund and you eventually caught up with him in Germany when you signed for Bayern Munich in 1989. How did that come about?

Bayern wanted a big centre forward for quite a long time and had looked at different players but none of them fitted the bill. Their scouts saw me playing for Scotland a few times and were impressed. They started to come to watch me play for Villa and that was of interest to the club because the manager at the time Graham Taylor had said to me that he wouldn’t sell me to club in England. He wanted to get me a move to the continent as he didn’t want me coming back to score against Villa. At the time there were very few players for the English league moving to the continent, I think it was only Chris Waddle who was playing for Marseille and then myself at Bayern Munich. As you say Murdo was also playing in Germany. Bayern made me an offer that I simply offer couldn’t turn down – as I have already said they offered me 10 times the wages I was on – so for 4 years in total it was simply stellar football and a wonderful,wonderful experience both at the club and in the country learning the language and the culture. It was a life changing experience for me.

Any regrets about not getting the chance to return to Celtic when you came back to Scotland in 1993 to sign for your dad’s old team Kilmarnock?

It would have been nice but to be perfectly honest I was simply not fit enough to go back to play for a club like Celtic. I only went to Kilmarnock because Tommy Burns was the manager – god bless him. I was relatively fit but perhaps only at 75% the player I had been due to the injuries. I went to Killie for Tommy and Danny Crainey George McCluskey and Billy Stark were all there too. Tommy had his own mini Celtic there and it was great to be part of it. Looking back on it now, it is a particularly special time, given that we have lost Tommy.

A newspaper reporter christened you ‘Rambo’ after the muscle-bound character in the Sylverster Stallone movie. How did you feel about the nickname?

Rambo! That came from the Jungle, so I’ve got to give them full credit for that. I’d scored a good solo goal in pre-season where I ran through the defence knocking players out of the way and putting the ball in the net. A journalist described the run as being a Rambo style goal. When we got home to Scotland and came out to play, funnily enough Aston Villa, in pre-season match the whole Jungle started signing Rambo, Rambo; Rambo Rambo. It was a sign of real respect from our supporters who were always first class, it was a nice compliment – some of the players still call me it even to this day! Anywhere I go in the world there will always be someone shouting ‘Hey Rambo big man, how are you doing?” and I’ll know it’s a Celtic supporter. At the time the Celtic players called me Al, but they’d tease me by calling me Rambo when it suited them. I loved the humour of it all.

On the current Celtic side, did you see the game on Tuesday evening? How did you think Celtic coped with Manchester City?

Yes I did see the match. Celtic coped very well indeed and I am delighted about that. Listen, I live down in England and I can assure you that all the chat I was hearing before the game was that Manchester City were were going to win 10-0 or 9-0 and how easy it was going to be for City. They simply under-estimated Celtic – as the English always tend to do – and in the end I am disappointed that Celtic didn’t win the match because they certainly deserved to. To be honest I am a little disappointed to be out of Europe because had they got into the Europa League then I think that Brendan could have taken his team very far in that competition. As far as doing something in the Champions League I don’t think that Celtic currently are at that level and with their lack of spending power due to the poor television money they get in Scotland then it is going to be a challenge to turn that around. But they can work hard and give as good as they get as they proved this season especially against Manchester City. With Brendan as manager I think that Celtic will be taken a lot more seriously in years to come in the Champions League.

Paddy Roberts, who is on loan from Manchester City, scored Celtic’s goal on Tuesday evening. What advice would you give him regarding returning to City or staying a little longer at Celtic?

Realistically he has little or no chance of getting into the Manchester City team. The best he can expect is to shine the bench with his bum and even that might be a challenge. A brilliant young player like that needs to play to get better. He doesn’t need my advice as he will have the right people advising him but for what it’s worth I would tell him to stay at Celtic, play in games and develop, win trophies, enjoy his football and build up his Champions League experience. If he goes back to City his career will stall, that would be a great shame. Look at the route Moussa Dembele has followed through making the intelligent move in the summer in joining Celtic. He is now one of the hottest young strikers in Europe. I would advise Patrick Roberts to stay at Celtic for a few years and forget all about being a bit player at City.

Have you been impressed by Brendan Rodgers in his time at Celtic and before that in the Premier League with Liverpool and Swansea?

Brendan is a top, top manager. He has gone to Celtic and has done what he had to do – he added pace into team. He added bite. Celtic, strangely had become rather tame in recent years and couldn’t put teams away or deal with certain situations. The supporters saw that themselves. So big credit to Brendan, they are a 100% better as a team with him as manager with mostly the same players. People down in England don’t appreciate just how how big a job managing Celtic is but it is a huge job. Brendan is limited in what he can do regarding signing top players – Messi etc won’t be turning up in Scottish football to sign for Celtic anytime soon– but he can be an intelligent manager when it comes to signings so he will improve the team year on year. I expect Celtic to win league every year he’s there and compete in Europe in a more meaningful way.

Peter Lawwell said this week that Celtic could be the biggest club in Britain if we had access to the English/Welsh leagues. Do you agree with him?

Did he say that? Listen, I don’t think one minute that the fan base at Celtic isn’t as big as any club in world football and I include Manchester United in that. As for the story about Celtic or Celtic and Rangers managing to get into Premier League – I don’t think that is going to happen, certainly not in my lifetime, so that’s a non-starter. What I would say is that Celtic are watched globally and have supporters all over the world. There are very few sides as famous around the world as Celtic with the green and white hoops.

Do you think Celtic can complete the season undefeated in domestic football?

Saturday at Motherwell looked difficult for a period in the game but they turned it round and all credit to the players for doing that. Only Arsenal have done it so it is a very difficult thing to achieve in any league. I know that there will be Celtic supporters rushing into the bookies betting on them going the season without losing a domestic match but personally I doubt it will happen. The fact that they are now out of Europe could help but I think there will be at least one slip up. It’s up to Brendan and his boys to prove me wrong!

Finally what was your own favourite personal memory of playing for Celtic?

That’s a hard one. I think it has to be the noise, it’s something pretty unique to Celtic in my experience. At Parkhead the support is very knowledgeable and they really do get behind the team, this is even more apparent in the magnificent new stadium but we had the Jungle, which was great. The expectancy of the Celtic support is fantastic. It’s unbelievable really, even if we won a throw in or a corner the decibels went up sharply. The fans support their team at Celtic – Celtic supporters stick with you as a player. That makes it a grand old team to play for. That’s why I loved playing for Celtic.

Thanks Rambo.

Hail Hail!

Special thanks to Will and Ian at Savile Rogue, suppliers of Luxury Football Wear for organising the interview with Alan McInally.

http://ift.tt/2juEHJA

#CelticNoise #Celtic #CelticFC #CelticQuickNews

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ionlyreadfivebookslastweek · 5 years

Text

Bless The Broken Road - 3

The next morning, the two women awoke to a text from Hotch telling them to all meet in the lobby in a half an hour. Another body had been found.

“Good morning,” Reid greeted Jane as she went to stand by him. She returned his greeting with a brief smile before turning her attention to Hotch.

“Let’s head out to the vehicles. We’ll talk at the station,” Hotch told the team.

Once the team gathered in their temporary headquarters, Hotch shared that the newest victim had been stabbed to death and raped postmortem. The UNSUB didn’t even bother to go to a secondary location.

“That’s different than the others,” Morgan said, stating the obvious.

“She must have fought harder and managed to get the chloroform away from her before it knocked her out,” Rossi suggested.

“There’s more. They managed to find a condom.”

“He’s unraveling,” JJ chimed in.

“Did they find any DNA?” Jane asked.

“They’re in the process of checking right now,” Hotch informed them. “Jane and Reid, why don’t you head to the M.E. Rossi and Morgan, head to the new crime scene. JJ and I will interview the victim’s roommate.”

A couple of hours later, the DNA test results came in and they were able to find a match.

“Kyle Wells, age 33. When he was 12, he was sexually abused by his nanny. It says it went on for over a year before she was finally caught and fired. There was a police report, but charges were never made,” Garcia shared with the team.

“That must be why he strangles them. His voice was never heard when he was abused and so he makes sure they’ll never be heard either,” Hotch concluded.

“The nanny passed away a little over four weeks ago. Did someone say trigger?” Garcia said.

The local sheriff knocked on the open door. Everyone looked towards him. “A woman has just been reported missing,” he informed them.

“Garcia-”

“Addresses already sent!”

The team quickly headed out to the vehicles and rushed to Wells’s address.

“Kyle Wells, FBI, open up!” Morgan yelled as he banged on the front door just minutes later. When there was no response, he kicked down the door and the other agents rushed inside.

After clearing the main level of the house, they found a door to a basement where Wells had the missing woman tied up. As soon as he saw the team coming down the stairs, he pulled the woman upright and held a knife to her throat.

They tried to talk him out of it, but before they could stop him, Wells turned the knife on himself and slit his throat.

Jane and JJ holstered their guns and moved forward to untie the victim. They helped her up the stairs and out to the ambulance that was waiting for her. Once they were sure the victim was going to be alright, Jane went to take a seat on the steps outside of the house.

She ran her face through her hands and let out a shaky breath.

“Hey.” She looked up to see Morgan walking towards her. “You alright?”

Jane nodded. “Yeah. Yeah uh...I’m just a bit shaken up that’s all.” Morgan took a seat next to her. “Does it get easier?” she asked him.

Morgan sighed and took a moment before responding. “You don’t really ever get used to it or over it, but you have to think of all the people you save and it makes up for the ones you can’t save.”

Jane gave him a half-smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. You ready to get out of here?” Jane nodded and Morgan stood up, reaching out a hand and helping her to her feet.

~~~ Jane set down her file after filling out the last of her paperwork before letting out a groan and rubbing her face.

“Tired?” Reid asked from his seat across from her.

“Exhausted,” she replied.

“You should try to get some sleep.”

Jane shook her head. “There’s only about twenty minutes left before we get back so there’s really no point.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. You don’t have long to wait until you can go home and sleep.”

“No, I can’t sleep at home. As soon as we land, I’m going home to pack a few things and then I’m driving straight to my brother’s place to stay with him for the weekend.”

“You really should just go home and rest and head to your brother’s in the morning,” he argued.

She shook her head. “I can’t wait. I have to get there as soon as I can.”

“It’s not safe for you to drive when you’re this tired. Driving while drowsy can be as dangerous as driving while under the influence.”

“Look, I can handle myself. You don’t need to worry about me,” Jane told him before he could spit out any more facts. She stood up and moved to sit off by herself for the remainder of the flight.

Jane pulled into the parking lot of Jack’s apartment. As she walked up the stairs, she took out her phone and saw that she had a message from Reid.

“I’m sorry about earlier. You’re right. You can make your own decisions.”

She smiled down at the screen and sent a quick text back.

“That’s alright. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I made it to Jack’s place, just so you know I’m safe. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

Opening the door to the apartment, Jane called out, “Jack? It’s me.”

She listened for a response but didn’t hear anything. After slipping off her shoes and setting her bag down by the door, she headed down the hallway back to his bedroom. The light was on but he was passed out on top of the blankets. He must have been trying to wait up but got too tired.

Jane went into the closet and found an extra blanket. She reentered the bedroom and laid it on top of him, tucking him in. As she kneeled next to the bed, his eyes fluttered open.

“Jane? You’re here!” He sat up quickly and reached forward to pull her into a tight embrace.

“Hey, little bro!” she laughed as she returned the hug.

“I fell asleep waiting for you. I’m sorry.”

“I can see that. Don’t worry about it. We should both get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning, ok?”

He nodded. “OK! Here, you take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch,” he offered.

“No, that’s ok. You stay here. The couch is fine,” she assured him. “Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight, Jane.”

~~~~~~~~~~

After a great weekend of catching up with Jack, it was back to work on Monday.

On the way, Jane stopped by the coffee shop again. As she exited the shop, Reid entered.

“Hey!” she greeted him while passing by. “See you at the office!”

She headed back to her car and set off for work. When she arrived, she noticed Reid getting out of his car.

“How’d you beat me here?” she called out. He spun around and saw her walking towards him.

“I guess I just got lucky,” he chuckled.

The pair began to walk in sync as they headed up to the BAU’s floor.

“So you read a lot,” Jane stated, starting up a conversation. “What about movies or TV shows? What’s your favorite?”

“That would have to be Dr. Who,” he shared.

“I’ve never seen it.”

“What? Seriously?!” he questioned, holding the door open for her to enter the building.

“Seriously.”

“Well, I think you’d really like it. What about you? What’s your favorite?”

“Well since we’re talking TV or movies, I’d have to say Harry Potter.”

“I’ve actually never seen or read the Harry Potter series.”

“What? Seriously?!” Jane mimicked.

“Seriously.”

“Well, I think you’d really like it.”

They looked at each other and started laughing just as the doors of the elevator opened up to their floor. They walked out and Reid held the door open for her again.

“Well, seeing as we both have never seen each other’s favorite, maybe we should watch them together sometime?” Reid suggested.

A beat of silence passed between them as Jane stopped to look up at him, seeing if he was serious. As she considered it, Reid couldn’t ascertain the look on her face and began to panic that she had taken it the wrong way. He was about to say something to retract his statement when she finally spoke.

“Deal, but you have to read the Harry Potter books first.”

His face broke into a grin. “Deal.”

”We have a case,” Garcia announced, passing by the two and bringing it to their attention that they had made it to their destination.

~~~

When Jane boarded the jet, she made her way over to Reid and handed him a pile of three books.

”Here you go, the first three books of the series. I figured you’d need more than one to start with since the first three are smaller than the rest,” she told him. He exhaled a breath of amusement. “Alright. I’ll get to it.”

~ Nearing the end of the flight, Reid moved to take a seat next to Jane.

”I finished,” he told her.

”Already? Wow!” she said, closing her own reading material and turning her attention to him. “So what did you think?”

”They’re great! I wonder though about the whole ‘I am Lord Voldemort’ bit in the second one? How does that work in other languages?”

She laughed. “I’m glad you asked. They actually had to change his name to make it work. For example, in the French translation, his middle name had to be ‘Elvis’!” As she spoke, her eyes lit up, much like Reid’s did whenever he talked about something he found fascinating.

”Do you have the rest of the books with you? Maybe I could finish them later in my hotel room or on the flight back.”

”Sorry, you’ll have to wait,” she told him.

”Dang.”

She chuckled. “I had to wait for each book to be released. You can certainly wait until the end of the case.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The team returned from the case on Wednesday and Jane gave Reid the rest of the series to read.

Thursday was a paperwork day. A little after lunch, Reid came over to Jane’s desk.

“So I was thinking that we could watch Harry Potter sometime this weekend.”

Jane set down her pen and turned her attention to him. “Yeah. You could come over to my place Friday after work and we could order a pizza. Then if it’s ok with you, you could stay overnight and sleep when we get too tired and finish the rest of the movies in the morning,” she suggested.

“Sounds perfect,” Reid agreed. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

Jane watched as he walked off to the break room. When he was out of sight, she let out a small squeal and spun around in her chair, unable to contain her excitement.

“Someone’s happy! Please share,” Garcia said, coming over to Jane’s desk. Jane filled her in on the plans she had just made with Reid. “Pizza and a movie marathon? Sounds like a great idea for a first date,” she cheered.

“Oh no, it’s not a date,” Jane told her, shaking her head.

“Oh yeah, sure it isn’t,” Garcia replied sarcastically.

“It isn’t! Look, Reid and I have been becoming really good friends. I’ve never really had any friends before so I’m a little excited that I finally have one.”

“Still...it sounds like a date,” Garcia insisted. She began to walk away but stopped and turned back, “Oh and Jane?”

“Yeah?” “You have more friends here than just Reid. I hope you know that.”

Jane smiled as she walked away.

~ Reid filled his coffee cup in the break room. As he stirred sugar in, he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Morgan pointed out as he approached his younger colleague. “You finally get some love from Addison?”

“No!” Reid argued. Morgan gave him a look and he explained to him the plans he and Jane had just made.

“Plans to get some love,” Morgan joked.

“No, Morgan! We’re just friends, ok? Friends hang out. Friends watch movies and eat pizza. Just friends.”

Reid moved past Morgan and headed towards the door. As he left the room, he heard Morgan call out behind him, “For now!”

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Quick note: This story started in May 2009 and so only the first five HP movies had been released at that time.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Jane popped over to Reid’s desk to ask what time he planned on coming over.

“Well, we get off at 5 and it takes 12 hours and 30 minutes to watch all 5 movies. Of course, that’s without taking into account breaks in between to grab snacks and go to the bathroom-”

“Reid, time?” Jane cut in, taking a seat on his desk.

“Sorry. Around 6-6:30.”

“Alright. I’ll have the pizza ordered to get there around then. I’m so excited. I can’t wait, this is going to be great!” Jane cheered.

“Morning, lovers,” Morgan greeted them, coming over to join in on their conversation. Jane rolled her eyes. “Talking about plans to make some sweet love tonight?”

“Harry Potter, Morgan. We were talking about Harry Potter,” Jane spoke through her teeth.

“Oh, role play!” Morgan smirked, causing Jane to scoff. She got up from Reid’s desk.

“I’ll see you later, Reid,” she told him before walking away.

“Way to go, Morgan!” Reid snapped. “Why do you have to be so infantile? She’s the first friend I’ve had that’s my age and is interested in the same things as I am. Why do you have to come in here and ruin it?”

“Hey, I’m sorry, man. You know I was just having some fun,” Morgan apologized.

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Jane.”

Morgan sighed and nodded before heading over to Jane’s desk.

“Addison,” he spoke. She looked up from her paperwork. “I’m sorry about what I said. I was just having fun, but I went too far.”

She set down her pen and turned her full attention to him. “I accept your apology,” she sighed, “I’m just sick of everyone hinting at Reid and I being more than friends. People would know if we were dating, but we’re not so they should stop joking about it.”

“I get it,” Morgan said. “We’re probably not going to stop, but I’ll try to tone it down.”

Jane chuckled. “Deal.”

~~~~~

“Hello?”

“Hey Jane, I’m just calling to see if you were coming to visit this weekend again.”

“Oh Jack, I’m sorry. I can’t, I already have plans. But I promise I will try to visit again soon, alright?”

She heard Jack sigh through the phone. “Alright.”

Jane heard a knock at the door. “Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll call you later this weekend. Love you.” Jack said goodbye and Jane hung up before going to answer the door.

“Hey,” Reid greeted as she opened the door.

“Hey! Come on in,” Jane said, moving aside.

“Thanks,” he obliged.

“I didn’t know you had glasses,” she commented.

“Oh, yeah.” He touched the frames self-consciously. “I figured if we’re watching movies late into the night, it’d be best not to wear contacts. I know they’re not the most stylish but they help me see and that’s the whole point, so who cares if they look nerdy,” he rambled.

“No, they don’t,” Jane objected. “Well, they do but that fits with your personality, which there’s nothing wrong with. They fit you and they’re cute.”

There was a pause between them and Jane realized what she had just said. Another knock came at the door.

“That must be the pizza,” she said, breaking the moment to get the door. Did she just call him cute?

The two settled down on the couch, ate their pizza and watched the first movie. Before starting the second, Jane took the time to clean up the pizza.

”I’ll turn the lights off since we don’t need them anymore,” Jane told Reid as she reentered the living room. She turned them off and sat back down.

”Actually, can you leave them on?” he asked.

”Why? Are you afraid of the dark?”

“Actually, yes,” he admitted.

Jane laughed. “You're a federal agent, how's that possible?”

“I'm working on it, alright?”

Jane laughed again. “Alright, I’ll go turn on the light.” She got back up and went to go turn it on. Instead of turning it on right away, she waited for a moment before jumping up behind him.

He screamed and fell off the couch.

Jane tried to apologize but couldn’t stop laughing. She went to go help him up, but instead, he pulled her down to the floor with him.

“Ahh,” she shrieked.

They both laughed and looked at each other. Slowly, the laughing ceased and for a moment, it turned serious as they both stared at each other.

Jane snapped out of it and got up, this time actually turning the light back on. The pair both got back onto the couch and started the second movie.

After the third movie, they fell asleep.

~~~

When Jane woke up the next morning, it took her a moment to figure out where she was. She looked around and realized she was in her living room, but she was laying on something. Turning her head, she saw that she had somehow ended up sleeping on Spencer.

Spencer turned his head and opened his eyes, looking up at her. Jane blushed and apologized. “We must have both fallen asleep at the end of the movie.”

She got up and ran a hand through her hair. “So what would you like for breakfast? We have cereal or toaster waffles, or I could make some eggs or pancakes,” she offered.

“Waffles sound good,” Reid said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Then waffles we shall have.”

After making the waffles, Jane returned to the living room and they started up their marathon again.

When they finished the movies, Spencer stretched his arms up and yawned. “I should get going, but we’ll have to do this again sometime with Dr. Who. You’re not getting out of watching them.”

Jane laughed. “Alright. This was fun.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“I’ll see you Monday,” she said as she held the door open for him.

“See you then,” he replied, exiting her apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bless The Broken Road Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~

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