#i just think that gerard constantly telling everyone to be careful in this dress was cute and very grandma of them i loved it

[sillyahhchana]

rough doodles of my grandma, she was absolutely slaying and so caring today

[hangovercurse]

Teeny Tiny Secret

After months of trying, you and Colson finally get those two pink lines… the day before tour starts.

Request: “I know that requests are closed, but I HAD to share this before it left my mind. When you have an opportunity, could you please write a story where y/n is in super early (not showing or anything) stages of pregnancy and on tour with mgk. She & Colson make a plan to keep it from the bandmates for now. It becomes difficult when he becomes super over protective (not letting her carry anything, not wanting the guys to crowd her), unconsciously put his hand on her stomach, and ordering non-alcoholic drinks for her. The band suspects something. Y/n talks with him to try to get him to calm down a little. It works until the guys ask you both about it directly and Colson's the first to crack.”

Colson Baker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Y’all are all up in that spring baby fever… this is like my 3rd or 4th baby request recently

Word Count: 2211

You and Colson had been talking about having a second kid for months but stopped trying a few weeks before tour started. You didn’t think it had worked until you woke up three days before tour and rushed to the bathroom, morning sickness wrecking your body. Colson felt you getting out of bed and followed a few minutes later, tiredly. When he found you hunched over the toilet, his whole demeaner changed.

You knew for sure the day before tour, after multiple pregnancy tests you had gone to see an OBGYN for confirmation. Sure enough, you were pregnant. The universe sure knew the definition of ironic timing.

Colson’s immediate reaction was to have you stay home. “All the traveling and partying isn’t gonna be good for him.” He said, pacing around your bedroom while you laid on the bed. “Tour life is not good for babies.”

You raised your eyebrow, “him? It’s been one day and you’re already setting unrealistic expectations for our unborn child.” You joked, a small smile on your lips.

Colson’s mouth gaped before he continued, “Y/N, we need to be serious about this. You can’t come on tour if you’re pregnant.”

You rolled your eyes, “Colson, I am not letting you leave me here while I am pregnant. I’ll be fine. I won’t drink and I’ll take it easy. You just have to make sure the guys don’t smoke around me and we’ll be fine.”

His eyes went wide. “Shit, the boys.” He paused to think as confusion crossed you. “If the boys find out about this they’ll freak out and then the whole tour is gonna be a shit show.”

It was kind of funny how much more worried he was than you were. “Babe, come here.” You motioned for him to come sit in the bed with you to which he complied. You leaned your back against the headboard, expecting him to follow. Instead, he laid so his head was next to your stomach. He pressed a small kiss into it, making your heart fluttered, the reality of the situation hitting you and making you insanely happy. “Why are you so worried?” You asked him softly, combing your hand through his hair.

He reached, moving your shirt up so he could kiss your bare stomach. He mumbled against your skin, “I think I wanna keep this a secret for now.” You hummed and he continued, “just for us, y’know? I wanna enjoy this.”

You nodded, “I’m still coming on tour with you, though. I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

He smiled against your stomach, finally moving up to sit next to you, pulling you towards him for a soft kiss. His hand went to your stomach, rubbing circles into the skin. “I can’t believe we’re gonna have a fucking baby.”

You smiled against his lips, a thought popping into your head, “can we tell Casie at least?” His eyes lit up at your suggestion, a quick nod of his head affirming the idea.

 The next day was hectic, as all first days were. You had gotten a list of everything you could and couldn’t do from your doctor, and the all-clear to fly for the first trimester. So, you and Colson found yourself with the crew at LAX airport bright and early in the morning. Ashleigh passed you an itinerary, letting you know that you would all be meeting the bus in Cleveland, where the first show was.

Colson’s arm hadn’t left your waist since you got to the airport, holding you to his side all morning. Occasionally you could feel his thumb rubbing circles near your stomach, something that was definitely becoming a habit of his. At one point he ended up standing behind you, hands resting on your stomach as he held you against him. You tried not to give anything away, but you found it adorable how excited he was. He wanted to be as close to the unborn baby as possible at all times, his hands constantly near your middle.

Eventually you arrived in Cleveland, walking down the long hallway to the baggage claim, taking in the small Cleveland hall of fame that the airport had created. You spotted your suitcase and went to grab it, but Colson beat you to it. “I got it, babe.” He gave you a look that let you know you wouldn’t be carrying anything.

You sighed, “I can get it Colson.” He shrugged, grabbing his bag off of the carousel next. The man now had a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder and two suitcases in his hands. “Seriously, it’s not that heavy.”

He shook his head, “I’m not letting you carry anything heavy. I can do it.” You sighed but let him, knowing you wouldn’t win this battle.

Unbeknownst to you, Baze had seen the whole interaction and was very confused.

 Later, once you had arrived at the arena, you were hanging in the dressing room with Slim and Irv on the couch. You guys weren’t really talking about anything in particular, mostly just cracking jokes about Rook’s outfit for the night.

When the younger boy heard Slim say he looked like “if Willow Smith and Gerard Way were put into a blender,” he came over, blunt in his hand.

Rook started jokingly arguing with Slim and you were all laughing at his distress. In the middle of their argument, however, Colson came over and grabbed the blunt out of Rook’s hand. He put it out in an ashtray before returning to you, squeezing himself between you and Irv.

Everyone, including you, stared at him, dumfounded. “Dude why the fuck-“ Rook started, only for Colson to cut him off.

“You shouldn’t smoke in here.” He shrugged, arms wrapping around you. He squeezed your waist, letting you know why he really did it. You were somewhat thankful; smoke was bad for the baby. But there are less obvious ways to have gone about that.

Rook grumbled but didn’t attempt to light another one. Slim looked at you, an eyebrow raised in question. You shrugged your shoulders, pretending to act innocently naïve to Colson’s behaviors.

Eventually the three boys travelled from the couch, leaving you and Colson alone. “Babe, you gotta try and be a little more subtle about that shit.” You mumbled, turning to face him.

He scrunched his eyebrows, “he shouldn’t be smoking around you. What else was I supposed to do?”

You sighed, “I don’t know, but that wasn’t subtle. If you keep treating me differently, they’re gonna figure out that something’s up.”

Colson lets out a breath through his nose, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want anything to happen to…” he trailed off, trying to keep a low profile.

“I know you’re just being careful. It’s sweet, and I really appreciate it. But either we tell the guys what’s going on or we figure out how to be more subtle.” You thought you guys were being quiet, but once again Baze was standing just within earshot, hearing your entire conversation.

 Colson demanded you stay backstage instead of in front of the gates like normal tours. “I don’t care if they think something’s up, you are not getting anywhere near that crowd.”

This was something you could actually agree on, not wanting any crazy fangirls to try and reach over the barricade and hurt you by accident (it had happened before). So, you were stood backstage before the concert, like normal, only this time you had a spot next to the stage picked out just for you to watch. Colson came over to you, jumping up and down in excitement.

You giggled at his happy demeanor, feeding off his energy. “Good luck kiss?” You offered to which he happily nodded. You pulled him in by his shoulders, intending to give him a soft kiss. Colson being Colson, however, decided that this was the perfect time for an extremely heated make out session.

You didn’t complain much as his hands explored your waist, paying special attention to your stomach, where a small bump would soon be forming. His lips against yours were heaven.

“Okay loverboy!” Ashleigh called, making him pull away from your lips but he kept himself close to you. “You’re on.”

He nodded towards her, giving you one last peck before running off to the stage. Before he left, his hands lingered on your stomach just a little longer than normal, his eyes glancing down to it for a split second.

Then you watched the love of your life run towards the stage, a grin on his face. “I love you!” You called. He turned to you right before he got on stage and mouthed the words back to you, knowing you couldn’t hear him anymore. You smiled, the sight of him living his dream making your heart melt.

Slim was on the side of the stage closest to you, and had caught the last moments of your intimacy, including Colson’s attention to your stomach. He perked and eyebrow at the sight but shook it off as Colson being into some weird new thing.

 After the show, everyone was hyped up on adrenaline and alcohol. The crew decided to move the party to a nearby club. Colson wanted to take you back to the bus and stay there with you all night, but you made him go. “Colson, I have been in this condition for all of 3 days. I am fine. You just finished the first show of your tour. We,” you pointed between the two of you, “are going out to celebrate, even if that means I can only drink water or pop.”

He rolled his eyes but gave in, letting you drag him down the street towards the rest of your friends. When you got to the club, you grabbed a table with Ash, Irv, Baze, and Slim while Colson took Rook to get drinks for everyone.

When the pair got back, they started handing out drinks. Colson set a glass of water in front of you, causing the group to raise eyebrows at you two, which you just shrugged off, sipping the water. As much as you would have loved to get wasted with your friends, you knew it would hurt the baby. You tried to act as nonchalant about it as possible, realizing that it was gonna be hard to hide your secret if you got water every time you went out.

This was going to be a long 9 months.

“I wanna dance.” Ashleigh said, grabbing Irv and Rook and dragging them to the floor. You grinned, about to stand up and join them when you felt a hand on your thigh. You turned towards Colson, who was currently stopping you from having fun, giving him a glare.

He shook his head slightly at you, leaning close to you to whisper in your ear. “There’s a lot of people here, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, whispering back, “can you ease up a little bit, please? I’ll be careful. I want to have a little fun before I’m not able to move at all.”

His face was stern, the two of you having a silent argument with your eyes. You pleaded with him, trying to get him to crack but he just shook his head.

Meanwhile Baze and Slim watched you two, trying to figure out how the hell you were communicating without actually talking. “Is everything okay with you two?” Slim asked, pulling your attention to the two men.

You nodded, smiling, “yeah, we’re great.”

Baze cocked his head, “you sure? Because he’s” he pointed at Colson, “acting like you’re pregnant or something.”

You felt Colson’s hand on your thigh tighten, his entire body stiffening. You giggled, trying to play off the comment. Baze started laughing the moment he saw Colson’s expression, which you turned to see was like a deer caught in headlights. Slim’s eyes went wide, “holy shit, for real? Congrats guys!”

You laughed, rubbing Colson’s shoulder, “good job, babe. You did a great job at keeping this between us.”

He looked down at you with a sheepish expression, “sorry, I thought we were being subtle.” He mumbled and you laughed.

“Cols, I was being subtle. You were acting like I was gonna die if someone so much as touched me.” Slim and Baze chuckled at this, and you turned to explain. “We found out for sure yesterday and didn’t want anyone to get freaked out or throw off the tour or anything. So, Colson here,” your head nodded towards your boyfriend, “thought we could keep it a secret for now.”

He frowned, his friends still laughing at him. “Dude, you are the worst secret keeper ever, man.” Baze said. “It took one push and you cracked.” You giggled, nodding your head in agreement. “But seriously, congrats guys.”

“Thanks, B.” You said, “but listen, both of you. If anyone on this tour tells me what I can and can’t do because I’m pregnant, I’ll cut their dick off.” The two boys nodded in understanding.

“Am I really that bad at keeping secrets?” Colson asked, still upset that he spilled.

You giggled and nodded, “Yeah, darling. You are.”

[qslovebot]

Midnight Escapade: Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer Reid and the reader have been crushing on each other since they met, but neither of them cared to admit it. When doubled up in a hotel room for the night, reader tries to convince Spencer to go with her at 12:30am to get frozen yogurt to cheer him up and it turns into much more than a snack run.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: Swearing, mutual pining (a long time of pining leads up to this fic), food, mention of Sept 11, 2001, self-doubt, fluff, kissing

Word Count: 4533

The case was solved, closed, and finally, your eyes could rest. The case you had just finished was particularly stressful to not only you, but your fellow BAU members as well. You all hadn't slept for nearly twenty-nine hours and Hotch decided it was best you all got the rest you deserved at a nearby hotel.

The ride there, you struggled to keep your eyes open, but Spencer Reid was on another greatly interesting rant about a show he liked, so you figured you would try to stay awake to hear it. You always listened to him because a lot of the time, the rest of the team dismissed him and his oddly accurate monologues. They grew tired of Spencer talking so much about things they didn't understand but you were rather the opposite- and that's probably because you liked Spencer so much.

The two of you met when he was introduced to the BAU. Praised for his mind, he introduced himself to you with a shaky voice and a meek handshake. You instantly admired him from his geeky personality outwards to his tall, thin self with a face sculpted by artists. Little did you know he did the same, but immediately thought of you as out of his league, so he stayed quiet.

You had been friends since then, pairing up on cases as your minds seemed to work like a perfectly oiled machine when together. Like Penelope and Derek, you two were known for the science jokes no one understood and shared looks of adoration that the both of you somehow didn't recognize as romantic. But everyone else saw it.

Derek Morgan teased a lot. He talked to Reid about working with the 'pretty girl' every day, poking him in the side and messing with his hair. The geek and the girl who was smart as hell, but didn't make it her dominant trait.

A doctor and the outgoing agent who matched the loudness of Penelope Garcia at times at karaoke night. You brought more liveliness to the BAU- more music, more spinning, more levity in dark cases. Spencer was always trying to hide a smile when you walked in, trying to pretend he hadn't been waiting for you to bring him coffee each morning. You didn't need an eidetic memory to remember his order and that, for some reason, always sent him over the moon.

But you were here now, listening to him wrap up his story as you fought the sleep that was looming over you as the car came to a stop outside the hotel.

"-And that was the end of it all. I think it's so fascinating how they wrapped everything up into this intricate timeline of interactions and moments and backtracks. We should, uh, watch it sometime." He said as he hopped out of the back, holding his small bag and yours.

You sleepily hopped out after him, hoping you didn't look like you felt, because you truly felt like hell. "Yeah, I'd like that," was all you could really mumble out. He passed you your bag and you smiled your thank you.

Emily held you up by the shoulders as Hotch sent through the check-in information. "Some case, huh?" She laughed as you rubbed your left eye. "I suppose we can't make this a girl's night of post-case celebration if you're dead asleep."

You groaned, "You wanted to do that? Damn it, Em, I'm sorry-"

"You need beauty sleep, (Y/N). I'm not mad or anything, I'll just take a bath and pull out an adult romance novel." A smirk played on her lips as she raised her eyebrows. You chuckled tiredly. "Seriously, no worries."

"Did I hear talk of a romance novel?" Derek shuffled over. "Which one are we reading? 50 Shades of Grey?"

Spencer stepped in, "Did you know that 50 Shades of Grey is actually fanfiction written about Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Saga? If you go further back, Stephanie started Twilight as written alternate universe fanfiction where the emo-slash-hardcore band My Chemical Romance were all vampires. But My Chemical Romance was started by musician and comic book creator- who published a series of comics called The Umbrella Academy in 2008, unrelated, his name was - Gerard Way, who created the band to make music that expressed the trauma he was given from witnessing the twin towers falling on September 11th, 2001."

Emily looked at him, jaw open. "So Nine-Eleven essentially created a badly-written and toxic sex novel, years later?"

Spencer nodded, eyes flickering to you for a brief moment. Derek grinned at Emily, "So you have read 50 Shades of Grey, huh?" He teased. She swat at his wiggly fingers away as Hotch walked over, brow furrowed.

"Rooms need to be doubled up tonight. Morgan, you can come with me. As much as you may hate it, I feel like (Y/L/N) here might collapse on the spot, so we can't go anywhere else." He handed Spencer and Emily a key, expecting them to make their own choices. Of course, Emily knew exactly what she needed to do when Hotch walked off. You were about to turn and go with her, but she bolted off, reaching for JJ.

You looked up at Spencer Reid who had his mouth in a shy, straight-lipped smile. You both knew what this meant, but you were glad you'd get to crash somewhere, floor or not. The room was on the fifth floor, so you took the elevator with Spencer in silence that you were sure he was granting you until you reached the door of your room.

"I will... take the floor tonight," he said, sticking the key in the lock. "You're tired and I'm just going to get dinner and um... read."

His watch read 4:34 pm- it was so much earlier than you had thought, but you were almost collapsing. "I'm sorry," were the last words you could reply with before you walked into the room, got into the bed, and you were out, cold.

You had never had such a fulfilling sleep. You woke up feeling clean, fresh, renewed and restored. There was no groggy feeling that you had accidentally travelled to another dimension while asleep. The room was dim, except for the lamp that was on in the right corner.

When you peered over the edge of the bed, there was Spencer, laying on his stomach with few pillows under his chest and elbows, a book in his hands. He looked peaceful, quiet, calm. "Spence," you whispered. He practically jumped out of his skin and you couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god, I'm sorry." You grinned.

He smiled sheepishly, setting down his book. "You're awake."

You nodded back, "How long was I out?"

"Since 4:34, so... 8 hours and 20 minutes. It's only 12:22am." Spencer sat up and against the wall while you adjusted yourself to sit cross-legged. You were still in your clothes from earlier and it surprised you to see Spencer in less preppy clothing.

Well, less preppy for him. No cardigan, no dress shirt, just a t-shirt that read 'math is as easy as pi' with the pi symbol made of cherry pie and his regular khaki pants. "Aren't you tired?" you asked, smiling from his shirt, back to him.

"No, uh, I actually got about four hours in the middle of your eight. I usually don't dream anymore but I actually dreamt I was falling, which is a sign of..." he stopped himself, but he was with another profiler, what was the use, you could already fill in the blanks. He continued, "Which is a sign of insecurity and inferiority, but I don't believe in dream analysis..."

You furrowed your brow, watching his eyes look down at his hands. "Are you feeling insecure and inferior, Dr.Reid, because need I remind you that 99% of the time, it's your brain that leads us to solve the cases."

He shook his head, "Thinking myself over, I'd-I'd say it doesn't revolve around work." The stutter was back. He hadn't talked to you with a stutter in months, you'd assumed it was just because he wasn't as comfortable around you then, but now it was back. Spencer Reid needed to be cheered up, something was wrong.

"Well you know you can tell me anything, right? I've kept secrets about my friends since grade one, I can keep yours." You slipped off of the bed and walked to your bag on the table in the far corner. You could feel Spencer's eyes on you as you went, so you shot him a smile over your shoulder. He reverted back to looking at his hands.

Through situations and being friends, you knew Spencer was insecure. He was bullied constantly as a child, some going as far as to strip him down and beat him. Disgusting, self-esteem-ruining acts you wished you could remove from his eidetic memory.

You took off your button-up blouse to stay in your white t-shirt that lay underneath. You hadn't the time to remove it before falling asleep. Thinking about that- you probably had bedhead too. Your balled-up shirt was shoved into your bag and you pulled out a brush in exchange, to get the knots out of your hair.

"I could really go for frozen yogurt right now," you said, running the wooden brush through your hair. Spencer narrowed his eyes at you, a little confused. "I haven't eaten dinner."

"It's nearly 12:30 am..." Spencer said. It looked like he was running through his vast mind to find a scientific explanation as to why you might have wanted frozen yogurt at half-past midnight. You let him, a teasing smile on your lips as you pulled the top bit of your hair up. "Are you pregnant?" He asked, out of the blue, entirely serious. Seemed like the only logical explanation he could find. You nearly choked on the air.

"No, Spencer, I am not pregnant!" You laughed. His face tightened as he went back to searching his mind. "I just want frozen yogurt. Regular cravings, not... pregnancy cravings. Are you coming?"

He looked at you, oddly surprised he was invited. "Why?"

"Why not?" You picked up his jacket from the hook and tossed it to him. "Nobody has to see your cheesy math shirt."

He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, but went right back to being analytical, a mumbling rant with hand gestures.

"The average half-cup serving of frozen yogurt alone has about 17.3 grams of sugar and plus various toppings, the sugar is upped to at least 25 grams. But, versus a half-cup serving of vanilla ice cream, the sugar is only about 14 grams and with toppings can be upped to about 22. Fat-wise-"

You interrupted him because this was seemingly the only way to lift his mood and he was making excuses to stay here and wallow. "Come on, for once, let's be able to act like the youngest members of the team. Once, Spence. I don't need a play-by-play on how much sugar is in it- though I did find that interesting-I just want frozen yogurt and I would like you to come with me. I'll pay for yours if you want any, just... please?"

He met your eyes with a curl falling down his forehead and quickly looked back at his hands. You'd been friends for nearly a year and four months and he still couldn't look you in the eyes for long. He really wasn't good at refusing you at all, either.

Spencer nodded and you practically beamed. Maybe this would help to take his mind off of what was bothering him, even if the distraction was brief. You jumped on the spot and slipped on your own jacket and grabbed your wallet, ready to go and by the door.

He had a small smile when the two of you stepped out, his hands behind his back. You locked the door behind you and the two of you walked silently to the elevator, careful not to accidentally wake anyone else in case they decided to peer out into the hall.

In the elevator, you turned and looked up at Spencer who was fiddling with his hands. "You look nervous, Spence. It's frozen yogurt, not a pretty girl."

"Well I'm with-" he stopped himself again and actually started laughing his breathy laugh, squeezing his own hand so hard his knuckles turned white while his cheeks and nose went a little pink. "You..." He finished, rocking on his heels.

You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. Though you mentally disagreed with him sometimes on your appearance, you smiled and looked back up at him. "Thank you. You're pretty too."

He shrugged himself further into his jacket, hands still wildly fidgeting. "Thank you..."

You both stepped out of the elevator the moment it got to the ground floor, looking for air that wasn't filled with odd tension neither of you could explain. You two walked through the lobby and into the cool midnight air outside, where things were open, dark, and still.

You shut your eyes for a moment and opened your arms to face the gentle, cool wind that blew your hair and hit your face gently. Inhaling deeply, you opened your eyes again to Spencer in a similar state, but much less relaxed looking. Instead, it looked like he was trying to calm himself down.

"Spence, you look out of it," you said, folding your arms over your chest. You had gotten him outside, now maybe instead of distracting him from whatever it was, you could help him through it. It was part of being a friend- profiling wasn't needed to see he was thinking long and hard over something that bothered him. "You can tell me what's wrong."

He started walking down the street toward the neon lights that shone bright with the word 'fro-yo', you stepped quickly to follow. "If I like a girl.. h-how am I supposed to go about telling her?" He asked, not even looking at you. His forehead was creased and his hands in his jacket pockets.

So this was about a girl he liked. Spencer Reid had a crush. Of course, you were oblivious it was you, but Spencer Reid was romantically interested in someone!

Yay?

An odd feeling of happiness came with finding this out and there was an uprising feeling within you like the first drop on a rollercoaster, but it lingered... and it was much less happy. You ignored it, of course, letting your outer emotions display themselves.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, the human encyclopedia- have you finally found a girl that puts you at a loss for words?" You teased, pressing the back of your hand to your head for dramatic effect, struggling to keep up with him.

His mouth twitched, "Maybe."

"Well, to be honest, Spence, just... tell her. Just go at it- ask to kiss her, maybe, then confess after. Or... or, you could confess, see how she takes it, then you can see if you should or shouldn't kiss her based off of if you get rejected or not." You told him, catching him by the shoulder to get him to slow down at the entrance of the frozen yogurt place.

He was much taller than you, so that came with him being that much faster, but that didn't matter now, he had stopped. Spencer looked at you, concern in his eyes, panic. You smiled kindly, "She won't reject you. I don't know any girl who would even think of it." Reassurance, because he needed it.

His eyes trailed to the ground and he ran a hand through his hair, opening the door for you. "And w-what do I say?" Spencer asked when you both went inside. You were the only two there and the cashier must have been in the back room.

You hopped over to the flavours, "I mean, whatever feels right, Spence. If you feel like going on a long, romantic, poet-written rant about how much you like her, do that. If you're afraid to bore her, you can wait for her to speak, but the truth is if she can't listen to you rant, she probably isn't worth going for."

He evaluated your words while you casually got yourself vanilla frozen yogurt. He also scanned the flavours, probably mentally shaming the company for marketing this as somewhat healthier. You giggled watching him try to figure out how to get the yogurt out of the machine as you put raspberries in yours.

"(Y/N), uh..." he said quietly, gesturing you over. The genius's mind was scrambled enough to miss the lever in front of him. You took his cup from him and pulled the lever, to which he made an 'o' shape with his mouth and nodded comprehensively.

"Chocolate mocha," you smiled, handing it to him as he stood there sheepishly again. "Good choice."

You spun back to your yogurt, adding a bit of honey over the top of it all. He followed, choosing raspberries as well, silently adding them. He still didn't seem at rest with the girl thing, you noticed by the way he was failing to open the scoop-box of cookie crumbs. He had long fingers, usually nimble ones, but not so much right now. Spencer was too stressed to work properly. Error in the system, you may have joked if things weren't so bad with him.

When you were both finished, Spencer tapped the little service bell on the desk and a little woman, maybe mid-30s came out wearing the merchandise of the shop. You both placed your cups on the scale and she weighed them for the price, but both you and Spencer pulled out your wallets.

He put his card out faster, so you swat his hand with your card and paid while he mumbled "Ow..." Of course, you checked to see if he was really hurt, but he had his small, crooked smile back on his face. He was okay, maybe he was feeling better?

Saying good morning/night to the lady, you both stepped back into the midnight air, starting to walk, but not back toward the hotel. You'd think with what cases you two had worked on you'd be a little warier, but with each other, you both felt safe. You walked a few steps, eating your yogurt, before Spencer spoke up again. "Is it a bad thing I'm so clueless as to what women like? Everything I know about women is scientific. Chocolate releases endorphins, flowers are associated with beauty and love, but... other than that... I don't know anything."

You swallowed your bite as Reid took his, waiting on your answer. Just as you always listened to him, he always listened to you. He probably valued your opinion over Derek's at times. You waved your spoon in the air when you spoke, "I wouldn't say bad. Everyone starts somewhere for everything. If anything, a man who is willing to learn is more attractive than one who wings it and doesn't ask comprehensive questions to up the relationship quality."

"Asking questions, got it. Should my confession include a gesture, though?" He spoke with his mouth full. Spencer really wanted to get this right- it was admirable. But there came that uneasy feeling again. It was more like an ache this time. Perhaps it was the awkward hours of sleep throwing you off?

You sucked it up, shoved the feeling down. "Really, Spence, it depends on the woman. Do I know her? Maybe I can help- that is unless you want to profile her to get her interests? I can help with that too-"

"No, I-I don't want to profile her, I want to stay away from that, we do that on a near-daily basis."

"We?" You questioned. Reid froze, but kept walking, looking a little petrified. He put more frozen yogurt in his mouth, maybe to shut himself up. You grinned, "We as in you and her are both profilers or we as in you and I profile others together, so you don't want to profile her with me?"

"I don't want us... to profile her," he cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

You sighed with a breathy laugh, "Good, because I was starting to think you were after Emily."

He chuckled, "Oh, no, not Emily. She's too scary for me anyway. Uh..." He swallowed hard, the way he always did was he was anxious or nervous. I saw in his face he'd come to some sort of conclusion. "Don't... don't yell at me for this, alright?"

"Yell at you? Spence, I wouldn't..." You were confused. He set his frozen yogurt down on the bench he had stopped in front of and stood back in front of you, pushing his hair behind his ears. He looked at you with his doe eyes and the wind blew his curls back in front of his face, he looked to the ground. His forehead still creased between his brows, but his eyes were soft and sweet, his nose was slightly scrunched and his mouth was twisted to the side as if he was once again mentally calculating something. You granted him back the silence from earlier, wondering what was going on in that mind of his. That was... until his eyes met yours and he looked so desperately lost and longing and like he ached inside... and you no longer wondered.

You let out another long sigh. She was you.

This girl that he was trying to understand how to win over, she was you. He asked you because he needed to know what you wanted. He was nervous because he was practically confessing to you and you, a profiler, were too blind to see that.

He watched your face for your reaction, waiting for something good, but you were too shocked to react right. He unfroze, hands flying to the roots of his hair and he spun away from you. He started rambling, obviously thinking everything had gone wrong. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, (Y/N). That- that wasn't how I had things planned and I was so certain that maybe you-hm- liked me too."

His words made it true. This was, in fact, happening at 12:56am in the middle of a foreign city. Your words spilled out, stern, focused, serious. "Kiss me then."

He spun around again, "What?"

"Confess, then kiss, remember?" You recounted carefully, looking directly at him, stepping closer.

"But I didn't get to do my whole monologue thing-" He was grinning pretty hard now, all signs of stress removed from his face. He looked brighter than the neon froyo sign, in happiness and disbelief right down at you. You were pretty sure you looked similar as all the pieces fell in place in your mind. It all fit.

"I don't care." You beamed back. "Do it after."

So without wasting another second, he grabbed your face and kissed you. He kissed you with a year and four months' worth of frustration, lust, confusion and past jealousies. His hands holding your jaw, his fingertips in your hair and your hands on his chest, holding fast to jacket. The kiss was a little messy the first two seconds, but every second after it was enjoyable and sweet and oddly powerful. He also tasted rich, like chocolate mocha, but you knew where that came from.

He pulled away first, which surprised you, but he didn't move very far, in fact, he mumbled against your lips as he tucked your hair out of your face. "I think I've liked you since you and I first met. You didn't hate my science jokes and instead of being annoyed with my informational rants, you listened to me. I wasn't expecting you to be so involved with me since you're, well... you're you and you're loud and fun and sweet and beautiful, but we worked so well together how could I ignore what I felt?"

His hand was a little shaky still, but his fingertips on your cheek were gentle. He continued to quietly ramble, "I decided maybe I'd do something with myself that wasn't devoted to the BAU so I thought maybe I'd- I'd tell you this. That I think you're beautiful and smart and talented and maybe you'd understand and feel the same way and now that I know maybe you do, I feel oddly put back to how I'm supposed to be. And... I think I'm supposed to be with you. If this is too soon or... ruins our friendship, I'm sorry and I'll slow it down, but I won't stop liking you."

You couldn't believe that in a three-minute span you had gone from painfully oblivious to so extremely wide awake. But it was in the best way possible after a year and four months of you also being painfully crushed by your secret feelings for Dr.Reid.

"It's fine, Spence," you said quietly, smiling at him with the most happiness you had found in months. "More than fine, I can't believe this is real."

He tucked the other side of your hair behind your ear, "You might have DRC, then. It stands for dream-reality confusion and is a difficulty or inability to determine whether an event or experience occurred during the waking state or whether it was part of a dream. I can assure you that you aren't dreami-"

You reached up and pulled him onto your lips by the back of the neck, smiling into it. This would be the first time you've ever shut him up. He welcomed it by kissing you back again, softer this time. Now that he was sure you wouldn't hate him for it, it felt a lot more natural, a lot more at ease. His passion was still there, as was yours, but this was how things were supposed to be. There was no longer a rush.

The two of you started laughing after it all. Both of you laughed at how painfully oblivious you both were and he went on a small explanation as to why we don't see our own tells and how feelings of romantic relation cloud the judgement. You went over every time the rest of the team had made a comment you both secretly loved or some you dismissed because it was an ache to hear.

Spencer opened up about his fear of rejection and you did the same and that too resulted in more laughing because here you were, so afraid, but you had both been in it for so long. You deserved to have each other after all this time not only because you fit, but because everyone saw it too, far before either of you did.

An innocent, fun, midnight escapade to cheer Spencer up turned into him finding a truly happy state of mind. You took that as a win and success as you tossed frozen yogurt containers in the garbage and found your way back to your room where you told Spencer it was okay to sleep in the bed as long as he was nice.

So he let you turn out the lights and lay next to him, your head on his chest in the way you had done before when it was only an achingly platonic move. He played with your hair, stared at the green walls, ranted about the history of the colour green and soon after, the both of you went right back to sleep, entirely happy.

Tagged: @ellyhotchner @softhairedhotch

[mychemicalficrecs]

While making the last list (Angsty Frank/Gerard), I realized that I have my own tag for works that give me feels. Several of these are on the angst list as well, but these are specifically works that make my heart hurt. For everyone who needs to feel something, let me recommend:

Frank/Gerard That Gives Me Too Many Feels

Can Never Wrong this Right by theopteryx, 24k, Explicit. Written for the hc_bingo challenge, for the square of 'forced soul-bonding.' It's 1949 and Dr. Way is a professor of Archeology and Frank is his constantly exasperated (and secretly pining) assistant. When their latest trek takes them to South America to locate the fabled Blood Stone, however, they both find more than they bargained for.

In the Music of Time by greedy_dancer, 13k, Explicit. It’s Frank’s last day off before the North American leg of the World Contamination Tour begins, so he’s not particularly happy when his nap is interrupted by a frantic phone call from Gerard. Gee’s clearly upset about something, but the urgent instructions he gives Frank as he rushes back to their hotel room are not making much sense. And why does Gerard keep asking Frank if he’s alone? Frank’s confusion only grows from there. The next thing he knows, Gerard is right there, kissing him - which should be impossible, considering Gee’s still on his way, and talking to Frank on the phone. It is Gerard kissing Frank, though. A blond Gerard. Gerard, circa 2006. And if that wasn’t enough to give Frank the mother of all headaches, it appears that there are actually not only one, not even two, but three Gerards come from various dark times in Gee’s past, congregating in the hotel room, looking for hints of a brighter future. This is the tale of Frank and the four Gerards, and of the afternoon that set everything in motion.

What Ships Are For by mwestbelle, 22k, Explicit. Gerard is most concerned when he finds that, while away at university, his father has taken in a new ward of his own brother's age. But upon his return home, he finds the young man to be particularly enchanting; unfortunately, according to the High Society he lives in, not only is Frank entirely too poor to be considered, but they might as well be brothers.

Bread and Butter by jjtaylor, 18k, Mature. Frank unfolds the extra blanket at the foot of the bed and quietly drapes it over the outline of Gerard under the covers. It’s Tuesday and Frank is headed into the bakery to do battle with brioche.

The Circuit by stoplightglow, 24k, Mature. In the world of competitive motorcycle racing, nothing is more prestigious than the Grand Circuit Tour. Americans everywhere gather to watch as the twelve best racers in the nation compete for the title of Circuit Champion and $100,000. Gerard Way is no stranger to the race. When he was a teenager, his name was practically legend - but after disappearing without explanation six years ago, he's become little more than a relic of the past. Now, at age twenty-six, Gerard is back on the Circuit with something to prove. It's Frank Iero's first year on the tour, but he's more than ready. No one has seen a kid blast through the ranks so fast since Gerard Way first appeared on the scene a decade ago. With a cocky attitude and the whole country swooning over him, nothing can slow him down. The stakes have never been so high. Welcome to the Fourteenth Annual Grand Circuit Tour.

In Repair by autoschediastic, 33k, Explicit. "Shit," Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he's gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he's gonna do. He's just gotta do it. Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It's dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He's pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate." Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging-- the thing's busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot's skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they're a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, "Am I dead?"

You Only Hear the Music When Your Heart Begins to Break by Solarcat, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank has high school figured out. His mom has given up arguing about the amount of time he spends in Gerard's basement, and he doesn't actually care if people think it's weird that he and Gerard hold hands in the hallways and go to the bathroom together. The only thing Frank cares about is figuring out why Gerard's suddenly avoiding him -- because what's the point of losing your virginity on Prom Night if you can't tell your best friend about it in the morning?

Fit to be tied by maryangel, 56k, Explicit. Frank is a bartender. Gerard is an alcoholic. They were clearly made for each other. Also, Frank is a werewolf.

Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, Gerard/Lindsey, Frank/Jamia, Lindsey/Frank/Gerard, 30k, Mature. Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.

Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, 43k, Mature. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.

The Detective's Secret and the Mystery of the Dancing Flowers by jjtaylor, 84k, Mature. Wanted: Replacement Valet for high profile Midnighter household. Must have excellent references, believable reason for leaving former place of employment, all Clan paperwork in order. Experience in filing, housekeeping, carriage driving, men's grooming, bookkeeping, scheduling. Highly desirable skills include: basic gardening, Daylighter legal practices, first-aid, hand-to-hand combat. Please contact Frank Iero for more information.

You'll Always Feel This Way by wakingup, 14k, Not Rated. It's Frank's birthday and he's gonna A) get drunk B) hit on Gerard C) get laid. Yeah, it's definitely going to work out like that. (Spoiler alert: it might not be that easy)

Rock and Roll Never Looked so Beautiful by corruptedkid, 58k, Explicit. Gerard Way is a rising solo artist, set to become the next big thing in the alternative scene. Frank Iero is a trashy punk with a reputation of his own as the frontman of Pencey Prep. When their paths cross, a love story is born, only to come crashing down when Gerard hits it big. As Gerard ascends to the A-list, Frank adjusts to life on his own. He almost manages it - until two years later, when fate puts him face to face with Gerard once more. Everything has changed, but the connection between them is still there. Their story has ended once before, but if they're lucky, they just might make a new one.

What Are You Made Of? (What Do You Dress It Up In?) by stoplightglow, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. “How’d you learn this?” Frank hears himself saying, words spilling out just to distract himself. God, it’s so fucking itchy, and Gerard is taking forever. “What, makeup?” Gerard says, not really a question. “Do you mean, like, how I got the techniques, or how I started wearing it in the first place? Because technique-wise, I mostly just stole my mom’s magazines and did whatever they said was right.” “How you started wearing it in the first place, then.” The pencil freezes, and then Gerard takes half a step back so Frank can see his eyes. “I haven’t told a lot of people that story.”

[girl-montag]

killjoys’ origin stories (part 3)

part 1 - jet-star // part 2 - cherri cola

kobra kid and party poison

this one’s a bit longer, sorry!

he was done with classes for the day. walking home, he kept staring at the ground like he always did. there were too many things on the streets that he didn't want to see, he didn't want to be hurt by. he opened the door of their house, sighing heavily, something he would only do when he knew he was alone. except this time he wasn't. he heard a noise, like a thump, coming from the kitchen, followed by a “fuck!!!”. he felt relieved when he recognised the voice and made his way towards it. 

his older brother was standing in the kitchen, cuts and bruises, dried blood all over his face and hands. a bag of (now broken) ice was lying on the floor next to his feet as he was trying to wrap one hand in a cloth. he finally looked up and saw mikey standing in the doorway. when he said “again, gee?”, sounding a bit disappointed, he just rolled his eyes. mikey pushed him into a chair and got a new bag of ice, putting it on the side of his head. “damn, you really had no luck this time, huh?”, he was now tying his hands in a towel to stop the scarce bleeding. gerard smiled, a smile made from trouble and mischief uncommon for a fifteen-year-old, that had always scared mikey: “you should've seen the other guy”. “mhmm, and what did the other guy do?”, asked mikey, knowing damn well that it was his brother’s fault, it always was, but not wanting to sound heartless or unsupportive. gerard looked tired now and mikey was sure it wasn't just cause of the injuries. he looked tired, but a kind of tired where sleep doesn't help. “he’s a typical brainwashed rich kid, mike. he was going around yelling shit about how this city is an oasis of tranquility, how we should all be thankful for the crows, how they do so fucking much for all of us... this guy that almost never leaves the house except when he’s in school and whose old man has a deal with bli is going to preach to us... he wouldn't shut up when i told him to so i wanted to make sure he did, one way or another, y’know?”. mikey nodded slowly. gerard continued then: “anyways, the teachers went crazy... i know this is like the dozenth time i've gotten myself in trouble this month but i think they’ve really had it now...”. he looked around the room trying not to meet mikey’s eyes, his gaze distant and full of guilt that he would never admit. mikey thought how the two of them weren't that different after all. “mom and dad need to have a meeting with the headmaster.”

                                    ***

“how don’t you understand!! you don’t take the pills, you finish in a bli detention centre and probably spend the rest of your life there, how is that better??!!”, mikey yelled. gerard was sitting on the floor next to him, arms crossed, defiance burning in his eyes. “taking their pills is equivalent to suicide. have you got any idea what you’re telling me to do? you’re telling me i should drown my own thoughts just because the city deemed them inadequate?? that i should become just another one of their puppets that obey everything, believe everything?? well guess what, mikey, yeah, i’d rather spend the rest of my life there, but at least i'll still be myself.”. the reason they didn't fight often, almost never, was that mikey made a promise to himself pretty early on: he won’t let anyone else be worried about him, ever. because everything hurt. the smoke in the air, the guns and night patrols, the rules, the way they were all constantly being convinced that they’re so fucking happy there. if mikey didn't try not to think about that he would’ve taken dad’s gun and ended it all a long time ago. one time he almost did, he almost pulled the trigger. but by doing that he would hurt everyone he ever loved. his brother, his dad, goddamn, his mom. and that’s the last thing he ever wanted to do. it’s not that he didn't notice the shit around him - he just decided to suffer in silence so the rest of his family wouldn't, not more than they already did anyway. and now his brother was doing the exact opposite. “how can you be so selfish?!...”, mikey screamed, scaring the living shit out of gerard, “i don’t care if it hurts, gerard, i don’t give a shit if it’s not what you want, no one ever gets what they want around here so why would you?! your parents, our parents, you think they’re going to survive losing a kid like that? you think mom...”, his voice broke for a moment and came out shaky and insecure after it, “...mom, who’s already fucking sick, that she’s gonna make peace with that?”. both of them were crying now, silent. “no one gets what they want”, mikey repeated and left the room. gerard was trying to wipe away the tears but there were too many. death has always lived here, he thought. so who’s it gonna be: you or them?, asked a little voice in his head. he went down to the kitchen and, still crying, swallowed two black pills.

but he wasn’t wrong. it was suicide. a couple of weeks after he started taking the pills, it’s like he wasn’t there anymore. whoever was that numb, quiet, obedient kid that was living in their house, that wasn’t gerard. there was no more laughter or joy, only shrugs and silence. their parents were terrified. terrified and helpless, thinking that just having him there, even like that, was better than whatever would happen to him if bli really got their hands on him. it was hard to admit, but mikey wasn’t sure which one was worse. but they all went with it. days, weeks, a couple of months. until mikey couldn’t take it anymore. he couldn't see gerard like that, not a minute longer, nor could he stay collected. he felt like he'd burst into flames if he had to spend one more night in that cage of a city. it was crazy, too crazy for him to pull off, but it looked like it was the only solution. they were going to run away. anywhere but here. he began by flushing gerard’s pills down the toilet. then taking a bag and filling it with water and food and clothes. then writing a goodbye note to their parents. and finally, waking gerard up: “come on, the desert is waiting for us”. the words ringed in gerard’s head for a while and he could’ve sworn his heart started beating just a bit faster for the first time in months. they were just down the stairs when they heard a noise behind them. they turned around quickly. their mother was coming down the stairs, in her night dress, the little hair she still had left hidden under a scarf, carrying a ray gun. “you’re going to need this”, she said and smiled, “i bet there are people out there in the desert who can teach you how to use it properly. and, well, get you another one”. they both wanted to say something - something like are you going to be okay without us, are you not against this, how the fuck am i supposed to explain how much i love you - but they got choked up on their own tears. “now give your ma a kiss before you go”. they did. and they all cried. and then the two of them stepped into the night.

[fyeahghosttrick]

Dancin' Fool

Cabanela x Jowd, Romance, Humour

October 25tth Hallway of secret place in the Police Academy Police Academy 10:45 P.M. Jowd thrust his hands deep in his pockets, sighing loudly as he made his way through the darkened halls. He wasn’t at all sure why Cabanela had asked him to meet him in this place; the lack of an explanation had nettled him much more than he cared to admit to himself or to anyone else. His brow furrowed. I just don’t understand why he insists on this idiotic cloak-and-dagger routine when we meet up. I wish he didn’t think this was necessary but  I suppose given the circumstances, that maybe he’s right about taking precautions. He made a face. Besides, we’re in enough trouble already and the last thing either of us wants to do is to strain the patience of the Chief Commissioner any further than we already have. He’d been startled earlier that day when Cabanela had casually brushed up against him in the mess hall at breakfast, slipping a piece of paper into his hand before gliding away with that loping stride of his that never failed to fascinate him. He wasn’t aware of the crowd of Rookies until he happened to see one out of the corner of his eye which startled him momentarily. Stuffing the folded paper in his pocket, he half turned and was surprised to see the curious stares of those assembled as they greeted him. Damned close call. He stopped for a moment, looking off into the distance, remembering the breakfast conversation earlier that morning. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX October 25th Mess Hall Police Academy 9 A.M. “What was that all about?” One of his seat mates asked him when he sat down at the long table, placing his tray down in front of him before sitting down. Jowd shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing much.” He grimaced. “Just another placation from the Head Sergeant.” He rolled his eyes dramatically before he picked up his fork and dug in. “You know how he is.” The red haired young man nodded, shuddering slightly. “What exactly did you do to get on his bad side?” Another Rookie, a young woman who’s name Jowd could not recall at the moment who was seated to his left, asked curiously. “He seems to have had it in for you ever since you started at the Academy.” “A small prank, actually,” he replied airily, adding mentally, And it’s all Cabanela’s fault for THAT one! “It seems a pair of his good dress  shoes went missing and…” He trailed off, the others bursting into laughter. Everyone in the Academy knew of the Head Sergeant’s shoes appearing tied to the top of the flagpole in the main courtyard of the Academy. Their timing, however, was not of the best since it was the Academy’s Open House where the mayor, other members in the public sphere and some celebrities came to watch and observe their day-to-day activities. What they made of the pair of shining black shoes tied up at the top of the flagpole he couldn’t imagine. The Head Sergeant nearly had apoplexy after he found out who was responsible for the prank and word had it that it was only the Chief Commissioner’s influence that both he and Cabanela weren’t sent packing after that one. Mite too close for comfort, if you ask me. Amanda Carstairs, a twenty-two year old blonde woman who was seated directly across from him, turned back to her food and began eating with gusto, her violet eyes wide as she stared at him, her expression a combination of disbelief mixed with healthy respect. “Geez, Jowd, you don’t pick your enemies lightly do you?” He laughed before digging into his mountain of scrambled eggs. “No, I suppose I don’t.” They ate in silence for awhile and Jowd was glad for the reprieve; he really didn’t want the other Rookies to know of the clandestine relationship he and Cabanela now had. Not that he didn’t trust them; he knew that they would keep their secret but the less that people knew about the two of them, the better. So far, no one suspected anything other than they were two mismatched Rookies constantly pushing their luck, and the Commandant’s patience, to the limit and Jowd was content to leave it that way. Maybe we might just be able to pull this off. He drained his coffee, bringing another forkful of scrambled eggs to his mouth. Maybe, just maybe… “How did you ever end up partnered with Cabanela in the first place?” Another young man, Rookie Paul Sandon who sat on his immediate left, articulated out loud, his blue eyes fixed on him. “I wouldn’t have thought that the two of you had anything in common, let alone ending up being partners!” We didn’t… at least not at first. But now… He swallowed. “I was supposed to be some kind of… steadying… influence on him,” he replied, picking up a strip of bacon and popping it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “The Head Sergeant felt that, by pairing up Cabanela with someone less flighty, and more stolid and responsible than he is, might help to take the edge off of him.” He grinned broadly, much to the amusement of his seat mates. “Didn’t do a lot of damned good, if you ask me!” Rookie Sandon chortled, picking up his glass of orange juice. “I’ll say! You two are the talk of the Academy!” He drained the glass before setting it back down on top of the table, leaning back and sighing contentedly, giving Jowd a lazy glance. “I’m surprised that you weren’t sent packing after that last escapade you guys pulled at Open House.” Jowd grimaced, spearing an orange slice with his fork. “Don’t remind me.” “What was it that Sergeant Holbrooke was calling him?” Another Rookie, Gerard Hanson, piped up, three seats down the row from Jowd. “Dancin’ Fool.” Jowd’s voice was soft as he said it, picking up a piece of toast and biting into it. “He called him a Dancin’ Fool.” He meant it as an insult but Cabanela takes it as a badge of honor. He grinned. And I’m pretty sure that he does it just to irritate Holbrooke. His black eyes took on a dreamy look as he chewed and swallowed. Still… that walk… so graceful… “Huh.” Carstairs’ voice reflected her speculation. “Wonder why he called him that. Doesn’t sound very nice, if you ask me.” “It wasn’t.” Sandon’s voice was firm. “He said it to make fun of him for that odd, loping walk he has.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Said he’d break him of that ‘damnable habit’ if it was the last thing he did.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Hasn’t said that in a long while.” Jowd laughed. “I’m certain he hasn’t!” “Sure, Cabanela IS a pain in the ass,” Sandon continued, “but if you ask me, the Head Sergeant asked for it by pushing him too much.” He swooned dramatically, everyone bursting into laughter around him. “I’d say he damned well deserved it.” Touche. “I’ll bet he’s hated him ever since he set foot in the Academy.” Hanson saluted dramatically drawing titters of laughter from all at the table. “Of every Rookie who’s come through, Cabanela’s the only one I’ve ever heard the old buzzard harping about on a regular basis.” I’m pretty sure I’ve made that list of people Holbrooke doesn’t like as well, Jowd thought with a half smile, peeling an apple and slicing it into four equal pieces, setting the peel and seeds to the side of his plate. Though you’re too polite to say it. “Well, all I can say it that life sure is interesting around here with you two around.” Sandon winked at him. “Gotta say it’s much more enjoyable watching your antics than it is studying!” You would, wouldn’t you? “Anyway,” Carstairs broke in abruptly, changing the subject, “what do you classes do you have for the day?” “Hmm.” Jowd paused a moment. “I have Martial Arts later this morning, Weapons training after lunch and then C.S.I. and Fingerprinting until supper.” She grimaced, her expression sympathetic. “Ouch.” “Tell me about it.” “I have radio duty.” Hanson looked woebegone, the others murmuring sympathetically. “I really hate doing that, especially since I’m paired up with Myers.” Sandon winced noticeably. “Can’t blame you. Not my favorite thing to do, either or a Rookie I care to be paired with.” “You’re tellin’ me.” Hanson’s voice reflected his distaste. “How about you, Carstairs?” Sandon asked curiously. “I have to go around to the area schools today.” She finished her orange juice and apple slices, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “Part of the joint Community Outreach program that the Chief Commissioner and Commandant are doing.” “Boy and I thought that I had it rough!” Sandon’s voice sounded horrified. She gave the unapologetic Rookie a hard look though Jowd noticed the corners of her lips twitching with unspoken amusement. “It really isn’t that bad, Sandon,” she retorted,”I really do love seeing the kids.” Hanson snorted in disgust, picking up his coffee mug. “Speak for yourself.” She snorted, turning away from him. “Anyway, Zeva will be going along with me; she loves kids and laps up all the attention they give her.” Jowd smiled at that. Zeva had been the unofficial mascot of the Academy since her retirement from active K-9 duty three years earlier. She knew how to work a crowd and went all out during her presentations; words had it that she’d received many kudos, and as many treats, hugs and pets from the children, that made her a perennial favorite of tall the schools in the district. Even though who were hard pressed to like dogs loved her which Jowd thought of being some kind of miracle. Hanson looked coyly at her. “I’d give you a lot of attention, too,” he murmured, fluttering his eyelashes at her who nearly dropped her fork in surprise before she fluttered right back at him, drawing another round of laughter from those assembled. They chatted for another hour before Hanson, Carstairs, Sandon and the other Rookies stood up, wishing Jowd a pleasant good morning before they made their way to the corner of the hall, where a table stood and plastic tubs lay for them to put their dirty cups, glasses, mugs, plates and utensils which they did, tossing their garbage in the garbage can located to the right of the table. Jowd watched them as they waved at him and exited, disappearing into the crowd that was now leaving the hall. He was the sole occupant at the now deserted table and he continued eating his breakfast with relish. He didn’t mind the company of Carstairs, Hanson, Sandon and a few of the other Rookies but he preferred to be left on his own, eating his breakfast in peace. Besides, he thought roguishly, I can think about Cabanela without having anyone else notice. After he’d finished eating, he’d exited and went quickly to their shared quarters, shutting the door before he sat on the bed, pulling the piece of folded paper out of his pocket and opening it, reading the words printed on it. Meet me tonight at 11 O'clock in the secret place. I will await you there.- Cabanela Really, Cabanela? He’d rolled his eyes at that; the cloak-and-dagger approach that his lover insisted upon was wearing thin but they had to keep their relationship strictly under wraps for the time being. As much as he hated to admit it. So far as he knew, he and Cabanela’s five month relationship was still a closely guarded secret, at least for now. Jowd didn’t know how long that would last before the truth came out and god only knew when that would happen. That nettled him; he wanted them to be open about their relationship but knew that they couldn’t go public with it at this time since fraternization was strictly against the rules. They had to be very careful; since that prank that he and Cabanela had pulled on the Holbrooke-exactly WHY was it that he’d allowed Cabanela to talk him into doing it?-they had been under close watch and it hadn’t been easy shaking the ever present shadow that followed the two of them around. Jowd sighed loudly. Not that Cabanela ever let that stop him. Damned adolescent. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 10:55 P.M. This is ridiculous, he thought with annoyance as he peered around the corner, having to sneak around like a pair of thieves, desperately hoping that we won’t get caught. why must he insist on this damned subterfuge every time we want to spend some time together?! He’d had a close call fifteen minutes earlier: Jowd had paused at the end of the hallway, peering around the corner and, much to his shock and dismay, right into the pinched face of Officer Cranston who was on duty that evening. To his gruff “What are you doing here, Rookie?” he’d been stunned into silence momentarily but managed to wheedle his way out of trouble by spinning a yarn that answered why he was here in the first place. Once he was finished, Cranston looked at him skeptically but seemed satisfied with the made up excuse, much to Jowd’s relief. he made his way down the opposite end of the hallway and, once he was out of Crasto’s line of vision and quietly retraced his steps in the opposite direction. He knew there was another adjoining corridor that lead to the secret room and he paused again at the end of the hall, staring hard into the funeral gloom; satisfied, he continued on his way. We’re lovers now, he thought with annoyance, his eyes darting right and left as he scanned the hallways for any sign of another’s presence and found none, you’d think that he would have told me why he wanted me to meet him here! He froze for a moment, a scuttling sound coming to his right. He waited for a few moments, holding his breath until he realized that the sound was a tree branch lightly scraping against the window. He allowed himself to relax a little as he continued on his way. It was a little known-unless you were in the know-room in the Academy; as far as he knew, they were only four people who knew about this place and two of them were himself and Cabanela. He stopped at the fork, staring hard into the funereal gloom that surrounded the hallway. He’s acting like a ridiculous adolescent. It wasn’t easy making sure that no one saw me coming here since we’ve been under strict supervision since the prank we pulled on Holbrooke. He squared his shoulders. Now why did he have to go and damn fool thing like that in the first place? And why did I ever agree to be part of it?! He reached the room and, with a quick look around, knocked five times in quick succession, waited a moment and then knocked again. For a moment all was silent and he wondered if he had even arrived. “Cooome in,” he heard Cabanela’s silky voice say and, with rolled eyes, Jowd opened the door, walked quickly in and shut it quietly behind him. In the gloom, he could barely make out Cabanela’s silhouetted form on the opposite side of the room and was startled when he became aware of his presence. His mouth went dry when Cabanela struck a pose, his chocolate brown eyes dancing with mischief as he slowly undid the front of his white suit, the red scarf he was wearing dangling languidly off of his right shoulder. The red certainly makes for an interesting… compliment to his skin. He sucked in his breath. Where did he get that red scarf?! Jowd swallowed. Hard. “Oh…my…” His tongue felt thick and he couldn’t conjure up one single coherent thought as he stared at him, his heart racing, his lips suddenly dry. Cabanela smiled saucily, his fingertips running slowly up his arm as he shrugged the top half of his suit off of his shoulder, his eyes looking smokily at Jowd who was suddenly having a very difficult time looking away. “Do yooou like what you seee?” His voice was soft, teasing though his tone was heavy with meaning. Jowd nodded quickly, his cheeks brick red, swallowing a few times in order to clear his throat. “Very…. much.” He could feel his fingers growing numb. “I-” He fluttered his eyelashes coyly, chuckling softly as he saw Jowd’s eyes widen and pulling his suit back up over his shoulder. Jowd tried again. “I-” He paused again, cursing his inability to speak, his face flushing a dirty red as Cabanela sauntered toward him, his hands outstretched, a soft, inviting smile on his face. “Shall we daaance, Jooowd?” “Dance?” Jowd blinked in surprise. “How? There’s no music and-” Cabanela grinned as he turned, and Jowd noticed, for the first time on the table adjacent from where he was standing, that there was a tape player resting on the top. Jowd’s eyes widened. When did he…? How…! Cabanela grinned broadly as he saw the look of stupefied surprise on his lover’s face. He did so enjoy shaking things up every once in awhile and throwing Jowd a curveball; in his opinion, it made life so much more interesting, and fun, when something unexpected happened. He looked at him once more as he pressed the 'play’ button and the first strain’s of Can’t Fight This Feeling by R.E.O. Speedwagon floated over the still, quiet air. My deeear, dear, Jooowd… His face shone with affection and love as he stood there, Jowd’s breath catching in his throat at the intensity of emotion he could feel emanating from him as he slowly took his hand, feeling Cabaenla’s slim fingers curl around his own. Hooow dear you aaare to me… aaand how much I waaant to show yooou. “You…remembered…” he managed to choke out, his throat so tight that he could hardly get the words out. He remembered my favorite song…! “Of cooourse I did,” he replied smoothly, pulling Jowd close against him as they started to dance, Jowd melting into the embrace. “Thank you, Cabanela,” he whispered, very moved. “Yooou’re weeelcome, Jowd.” Cabanela’s murmur in reply was tender, planting a loving kiss on his temple and Jowd smiled softly as he closed his eyes, basking in his lover’s warmth. They danced through the night, enjoying each other’s company, bright moonlight shining in through the half-open curtains. .:FIN:.

[fireninjadagger-blog]

Give Me All Your Hopeless Hearts

Synopsis: Frank didn't plan on befriending the art and music kids at school and he especially had no intentions of falling in love with Gerard Way. All he wanted was to get through the year as quickly and as painlessly as possible.  Frerard: Classic high school setting but I'm fairly certain this combination of characters has never been done before. My Chemical Romance, Tonight Alive, Set It Off, PVRIS, Panic! At The Disco, Paramore, Fall Out Boy. 

Chapter1: September 15th

       "This will be your class schedule," the secretary says handing me a printed form. I take the warm paper from her hand and scan it. Well, at least they got the guitar class I wanted and I was also given the early release I was promised. Though I didn't ask for math, history, or English but this is a school so I can't really complain there. I got what I wanted and looks like my study hall is the first hour. Good, I'm not a morning person. "Is there any other questions you have that I could answer for you?"        I glance up from my schedule and look at the woman. "No, that's all, I guess," I mumble.        "Well then, welcome to North Shore High," she says with a cheery smile. I stand and fling my bag over my right shoulder then shuffle out of here. I guess I should be going to class but I don't really want to. Due to the untimely cross-country move, I'm already coming to school two weeks after it started, making my transition a hell of a lot bumpier. As if the new kid from New Jersey dropping into a sea full of prissy teens living their whole lives in upstate Cali wasn't bad enough. I'd be worried I'd get jumped for standing out so badly but I have to remember I'm not at home anymore where not constantly looking over your shoulder is a death sentence. The worst thing that could happen here is you tan too dark for your eyebrows or someone else bought your $750 dollar shoes and you can't wear them anymore to be "original".        I know I'm just being spiteful here and I'm sure not everyone is as bad as I built them to be in my head. But I fought a one-man war about this move and tragically lost. I don't know how I planned on spending my summer but moving from New Jersey to California was definitely nowhere on the list. My top three would be catching up on sleep, finally relaxing, and saving up to buy an electric guitar. Turns out parents' job rearranges everything. When my mom and dad sat me down to tell me, I was expecting them to inform me they are finally getting a divorce. They've been fighting over the years and it kept getting worse and worse. I know deep down they don't love each other anymore like how they did when I was younger and I felt it coming soon, I felt in my heart. The fact they shouldn't be together is the only thing they could ever agree on in the past 10 years. But turns out they still haven't gotten around to the divorce so instead, both of my parents move to California and they drag me along biting and clawing the whole way there. How could I possibly move across the country and not be angry? I knew they were both offered jobs over in LA but I'm in school and my life is in New Jersey. I didn't want to go but I didn't get a say in the matter. After doing everything I could, I knew there was no way I could opt out of this move or convince them otherwise. So I lost the war but I did win one battle and it was the battle of my life. I managed to compromise and at least get to finish my sophomore year before the move.        I told my friends I was leaving but none of them took it as hard as I did. They were "bummed out" but nowhere near as distressed as I as. It seemed to constantly slip their mind I was leaving too because I had to keep pointing it out every time they talked about "next year" with me. I wasn't going to be there next year and they didn't seem to care. It was in that moment I realized you're not supposed to care much about your friends. I mean, the lot of us never really been close. We were all very different. Charlie and Luke were on the football team, Patrick was the super nerd in all the computer, science, and math classes, Darin was I dare say the delinquent of our group as well as the player. Then there's me: the metalhead who likes music too much for my own good. Friends aren't much of anything besides something to pass the time. I could never define friends until now.

       I climb up to the second floor and roam the halls until I come across the room number. The door is open and the teacher is sitting in the front at his desk typing on the computer while the class is working or diligently napping. A few kids have their earbuds in while writing homework assignments, some kids are talking to their friends next to them but a majority of them are either on their phones or burying their face in their desk asleep.        I walk up to the teacher's desk and he looks up at me. "Ah, you must be the new student," he says getting up and greeting me. "Frank Lero is it?"        "It's Iero actually," I correct.        "Oh, my bad," he says. "Well, welcome to our school. I'm Mr. Cee and this is your study hall. I know it's the first period of the day so you won't always have work. If that's the case, I don't mind you on your phone or relaxing before you go to your other classes. I also don't have assigned seats, you can find a place. And if you ever need to go somewhere else like a computer lab, library, any other class, just sign out with a pass and you're good."        "Okay, thanks," I say and awkwardly shuffle away from his desk and glance over at my options of open seats. A few kids noticed my arrival and are glances at me. Others are too busy to realize which is all for the better I'd say. Then I spot an empty seat in the very back of the room on the same side as the door. That's a good place. I head over to the empty seat and ask the girl with glowing hair next to it if it's taken.        "Huh?" she says still laughing at whatever funny thing her boyfriend or wannabe boyfriend said to her.        "Is this seat taken?" I ask again.        She brushes her neon, scarlet hair out of her face and looks up at me still giddy. "Oh, no. You can sit there," she says. I drop my bag off my shoulder and grab the strap before it thuds to the ground and I sit down. The girl starts giggling again and the guy with dark hair shortly cropped on the sides with longer bangs falls over on his desk. I roll my eyes at those two and put my music in. I just want to get through the day and then the week. I just want to get through this year and repeat for my senior year. I don't care anymore, I just want to get through high school in one piece and then I'm done. I don't ever have to deal with this again, I'm free. I just want to be invisible and make this as painless as possible. No time to bother making friends, I doubt any of them are worth it. There's no such thing as real friends. Just people to pass the time. I turn on my phone and look at my text messages. The last text I received was from my mother this morning. The standard "have a good day at school! Here's our address in case you forgot so you know how to get home" My dad hasn't texted me recently and my friends all forgot about me already. I've tried texting them in our group chat but they started talking about hanging out together, which I clearly can't do anymore. Then Patrick said they should make a group chat with all of them but not Frank and use it for when they hang out so I don't feel bad. I guess they started using the one without me and never went back. I tried texting them, both on the big one and individually. Some of them haven't responded, Patrick hasn't even opened my texts to read. The ones who to respond only send one-word replies and kill the conversation quickly. I eventually left the group chat and stopped trying a long time ago. I've come to see they don't text me, to begin with, which is why I no longer have friends and maybe never had any in the first place.

       After a period of sitting there contemplating my life while listening to Smashing Pumpkins, I make my way down to the music hallway for guitar. I really hope that this class is better than the last one, something to do but hopefully even less interaction with people other than a teacher. Sitting in the corner by the door, I notice in the back the same girl and guy from my study hall are here except they're with more friends. There's five of them all together. Another guy wearing a hoodie and two more girls with a unique hair. The brunette has really long hair down to her waist and it's wavy. The side of her temples are shaved completely and she wears all black and grey schemed clothes. Grey tights, black boots, dark grey skirt, light grey blouse and a very classy jacket. Then the other girl sitting next to the fancy lady is dressed similarly to the neon-haired girl. She too has ripped skinny jeans, converse, some sleeveless shirt that requires her to wear a black tank top underneath and a flannel tied around her waist. The five of them all sit in a tight circle laughing together and playing really obnoxiously on their instruments. Part of me really wants to start shredding Metallica because I know how to but I don't think that would be a good idea. Remember, low profile and invisible.

       History goes by. Gym goes by. Lunch is a real adventure trying to find somewhere to sit and then I have a brilliant idea of going down to the empty guitar room during my lunch period. No one is in here so no one can bother me. I'm almost done with the day when English comes around and I have an aneurysm. I go up to the teacher and instead of keeping her cool like the other teachers have, she makes a huge scene after the bell rings.        The last of the kids walk into class as the bell rings and they're all still talking when she pulls this stunt. "Class, we have a new student today." Everyone quiets down and starts looking around the room. I pull my hood over my head and try to avoid eye contact. Oh god... "Frank? Please stand up so we can all meet you." By now, a majority of the class knows I'm the new kid intruding on their lives. I reluctantly stand and pull my jacket down. I'm now showing the whole class how short I am. If I was a girl, I'd be average height except I'm a guy and I am pathetically small. "Introduce yourself to the class," the teacher says with her preppy voice.        "My name is Frank Iero," I reply.        The teacher waits for me to continue but I just stare at her wanting permission to sit back down. "Tell us where you're from and something about yourself so we get to know you."        This is not part of the plan. I'm just supposed to pass by here invisibly and unnoticed until I'm free. I don't want people to know who I am. I just want to hide. "I'm from Summit, New Jersey and I like the color red," I say flatly. There are some whispers going around over the fact I'm from Jersey.        "Oh, that must be exciting over there. Did you like it?" the teacher asks.        "Yes. And then I was dragged here to this land of sunshine." The teacher looks at me slightly uncomfortable sensing my attitude.        "Well, thank you, Frank. You may sit down." My knees collapse as soon as the words leave her mouth and I retreat back underneath the hood of my leather jacket and do my best to become invisible. God, that was utterly humiliating. I could have just died on the spot right there. Hell, dying on the spot right there would have been better. Man, this is a train wreck. I just want to go back to Jersey. I may not have had friends but I fit in with the people there. Everyone listened to the same music and it was a passion we carried deep in our blood. We fought for what we loved and we lived as though we'd die tomorrow. People were crazy, everyone was crazy and everyone was okay with being crazy. There was violence that made you fearful and knowing one wrong mistake may get you killed prevented the idiots from surviving. Everyone around had common sense and we weren't stupid. Knowing while walking home you might get shot made sure you never took anything for granted. We all sounded the same and we were never pointed out for how we pronounced words and we never pointed out when someone we knew spoke differently. I missed it back there. I don't belong in California.        The period is almost over when someone taps my shoulder. I uneasily turn around to see the girl from my guitar class wave at me. It's the girl with the flannel around her waist and sitting next to her is the other girl who dressed as if she just might go have tea with the queen of England at any moment. "Hi," she says cheerfully.        "Hi?" I say unsure and give a small wave.        "So you're new here, huh?" she brings up as a conversation starter. I really wish she didn't feel the need to talk to me for the sake of talking to the new kid.        "Yeah," I answer hoping to end the conversation.        "My name's Jenna and this is my-," Jenna looks back at the girl and gives a nervous laugh, "my friend Lynn."        "Hi," I respond towards Lynn.        "Yeah, well, I noticed I had a lot of class with you. Our friend Hayley said you sit next to her and Brendon in study and I saw you also in my gym class. You seem to be hanging by yourself so I wanted to ask you if in guitar tomorrow you wanted to sit with my friends and me."        "Oh, um, that's-wow-really nice of you," I say, sitting up. "Um, I guess if it's cool with them."        "Oh, totally. They're super chill. And Hayley and Brendon said they wanted to talk to you but you had your earbuds in so you didn't hear them.        "I didn't know they were," I say. "I didn't really want to bother those two, couples tend to get annoyed with others intrude I thought."        Jenna and Lynn start giggling. "Oh, no. Hayley and Brendon aren't dating. No, they're like brother and sister. And Brendon is dating someone else," Lynn explains.        "Oh, okay," I note. "So, I'll see you girls tomorrow then?" I ask.        "Definitely," they say in unison and then look at each other laughing. I smile warmly as the bell rings and I head to my math class. I resume my undercover op of remaining invisible however I kind of wished Jenna or Lynn were here, especially Jenna. They were really nice to me and Jenna seems like we'd make good friends. I can tell just by the way she dresses. And she's really nice, I don't know. God, what's gotten into me? One nice person makes an effort of being kind to me and all of a sudden, I'm hoping she's my best friend. I need to keep it cool, in case this is just getting to my head.        My math class ends and I don't have homework considering I used to be a year ahead of math at my old school and they put me in honors juniors math, which is technically the class I took last year. This is way too easy for me but all the better to get an easy A. My early release is after math class so when the bell rings, I walk out of the school. My phone had my new home address typed into google maps so I knew how to get back from here. On my way out, I see Jenna again with more of her friends. The girl she's with looks like her twin. It's not Hayley or Lynn but another girl. I think Jenna has a twin because this girl has the same 90's punk rock style cut and platinum, bleached blonde hair. They look like they both have an off style of Joan Jett's hair but bleached to an almost white. They also both have ripped skinny jeans, Jenna's grey and the other girl's blue. They have the converse, tied flannels, and sleeveless tops. The two of them walk together in front of the rest of them. Only one of the guys is familiar. I don't think it's the Brendon dude so it's the other one in guitar class. There are two more guys walking side by side. One wearing sports clothes and looks like a preppy athlete, the other kind of looks like me almost. Long, black bangs covering his face, wearing a leather jacket with the hood up and his bag hastily slung over his left shoulder. The only real difference between me and this guy walking out with Jenna and her friends is he's a few inches taller and he's carrying a bulky sketchbook.

Continue reading here! Hope you enjoyed :) Wattpad and Quotev: @.FireNinjaDagger https://www.wattpad.com/story/108061102-give-me-all-your-hopeless-hearts-frerard-high

[365footballorg-blog]

In the stadium, in the bars, in the streets: Russia a nation united in disbelief

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Russia will wake up across its 11 sprawling time zones to a new national hero on Monday.

In a land where goalkeepers are revered, Russia’s number one Igor Akinfeev inspired the World Cup hosts to an unlikely penalty shootout victory against highly fancied Spain.

The result sparked wild celebrations across Russia, as Patrick Jennings discovered while watching from a bar in the southern city of Samara.

The toast was to victory – “our victory” – and to “Lev Yashin the goalkeeper,[1] our greatest ever player”.

Dima’s voice was already hoarse before extra time even got started in this sweaty Samara bar where the air temperature was about 32C and the atmosphere was even hotter.

The mood was optimistic but still probably nobody among the packed crowd would believe it if you told them: in 20 minutes’ time, Igor Akinfeev will write his own new heroic chapter for Russia, the World Cup hosts who were so widely expected to fail before this special tournament started.

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Now they are in the quarter-finals for the first time in 48 years after a dramatic penalty shootout win over 2010 champions Spain in which CSKA Moscow goalkeeper and Russia captain Akinfeev saved two spot-kicks.

His second stop sealed the victory and provided a moment of realisation that said yes, there would be a new crescendo in the wave of optimism that has been building here since Russia’s two sweeping group stage wins made everyone sit up and take notice.

“It’s unreal, I can’t believe it,” Dima said as he was swallowed up by a group of friends that included two Mexicans. He described them as “our lucky charms”.

Russia stun Spain on penalties to reach quarter-finals[2]

How did Russia go from ‘butt of jokes’ to hosts supreme?[3]

A woman to my right could not believe it either. She had been watching the climax of Sunday’s match with her hands covering her mouth and as the TV screen showed Akinfeev mobbed by his jubilant team-mates she breathed deeply and turned unsteadily towards the door, finally ready to release humming nervous energy into total joy.

Everyone else spilled into the streets too, out from whichever place they watched.

When the match was under way all you could hear outside was birdsong and a few distant cries from some faraway open window.

Now it felt like the whole city was celebrating. Children with mouths dropped open and eyes spread wide watched their parents dance with strangers and get doused in beer.

The Mexican and Brazil fans, whose teams play a last-16 tie here on Monday, were part of it too as women in traditional dress hauled dancing partners in from the sidelines and towards the centre of a street ruled by their accordion players.

Samara’s old centre had been shut down and now the hordes of delirious locals were taking over. Is it all for one night only? Croatia will be next.

A speaker system outside a bar started up a Shakira song – appropriate given she is Spain defender Gerard Pique’s wife – while a few hundred yards away a string quartet played Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance and nobody cared what tune they were moving to.

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But all of that was drowned out by the cars honking constantly at each other as they drove round and round the perimeter roads.

Passengers shouted “ROSSIYA!” while holding flags to the wind and leaning deep towards the sun setting on the Volga down below. Bedtime would be late for everyone.

What I think of this Russia team has often been the first question put to me in each of the seven host cities I’ve visited during this tournament.

It has either been that, or whether British people really think bears can be found roaming Russian streets.

So many of those wanting to talk football started out by saying they actually had no interest in the game whatsoever but had nonetheless found themselves carried away by the country’s growing good feeling.

Expectations and interest before the tournament were low – but as manager Stanislav Cherchesov said in early June, half the nation would only wake up to the World Cup once it was under way.

Everyone is watching now. People tell you about their 90-year-old grandma who suddenly became an obsessive after the second group game, a 3-1 win over Egypt that sealed Russia’s place in the knockout stage.

It is a special mood that perhaps only a host nation can experience. Like England at the European Championship of 1996, it is a mood that will only grow stronger as the tournament goes on. We shall see how far it carries.

It was in Mexico in 1970 when Russia or the Soviet Union last reached the quarter-finals of the World Cup.

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Yashin – the great Soviet icon still so revered in this country, the only goalkeeper to win the Ballon d’Or – was part of that squad but did not play, already nearing the end of his great career.

Almost everyone out in the street in Samara on Sunday would have no memory of that tournament run, which was ended by an extra-time defeat by Uruguay.

But the hairs stood up on the back of your neck as you realised – the whole country will be like this tonight. The world’s largest nation, experiencing the birth of a new chapter in its football history, 144 million people and just as many smiles.

References

^ Lev Yashin the goalkeeper, (www.bbc.co.uk)

^ Russia stun Spain on penalties to reach quarter-finals (www.bbc.co.uk)

^ How did Russia go from ‘butt of jokes’ to hosts supreme? (www.bbc.co.uk)

BBC Sport – Football

In the stadium, in the bars, in the streets: Russia a nation united in disbelief was originally published on 365 Football

[twentyonephandomsjksuperluv-blog]

this prolly means nothing srry if it takes up too much of your screen

This is basically how I threw away my razors, some stuff from me, and me explaining a bunch or insanely inspiring quotes for yall i have horrible grammar ajfja So my mom cleaned my room while I was at school, but she decided to leave me to fix my closet. She told me a million reason why she’d appreciate it if I cleaned and made me feel sorry for her, then she left. I sat in my closet, crying because I needed distractions from my brain, but she took my laptop, so I decided to begin cleaning. I picked up a blanket, and I saw a razor glistening in the light, and I started to panic so I stared at it, I was too scared to touch it. So really quickly, I threw it out the closet door and just sat there staring at it, I was just scared and staring. I picked it up, and my hand just basically put it to the hole in my jeans, my brain was focused on my skin, my fingers lengthening my skin so it’d be easier, I realised it was getting close, so I threw it back. And I was just basically insanely scared; I told myself that this is horrible and I shouldn’t be scared of myself, so I told myself I was going to throw it away. But I told myself I was going to need it again. But I told myself, ‘no you probably won’t’ But I told myself, ‘what if you dooooo thoo’    ‘you might need it in a month maybe’     ‘maybe you need it right now’     ‘you probably won’t ever do it again tho, but just in case.’    ‘no you aren’t goi-’     ‘but jusT IN CASE I SAID!!!’    ‘NO YOU AREN’T EVER GOING TO NEED IT AGAIN YOU MENTALLY DISEASED SMOL BEAN’     And so I sat there basically repeating all these words in my brain, and I decided I was nEVER going to need them again. Not maybe. I won’t. So, my triggered bum decided to fight it, and get out my black box with my razors and other stuff just in case my mom opens it or my sis or whatever, and I opened it, immediately closed it and threw it. In a few minutes of telling myself those words again, I went downstairs, got some tissues, came back up, put the blades in the palm of my hand, covered them up with the various tissues I had, turned the tissue into a ball, ran downstairs, and I’d like to say I easily threw them away, but I was slightly hesitant, so I decided I was just not going to think, and I shoved them in the trash.  I ran upstairs and was just proud of myself while cleaning my closet. -I-don’t-wanna-cut-myself-ever-again- I am nOT going to cut myself ever again. I mean, if I wanna get better, I gotta try.and I know it’s very hard for some people to try, but you gotta do something.  If you have a “friend” that makes fun of you and uses you and steals your stuff and humiliates you when you say no, but constantly tells you she is your friend, she is not. GET RID OF HER. And you may think, ‘but shes the only person I have!!’ NO. YOU ARE THE ONLY PERSON YOU HAVE. AND SHE IS TRYING TO BEAT THAT PERSON TO THE GROUND AND MAKE YOU HATE YOURSELF, AND MAKE FUN OF YOURSELF, and basically do everything and more to you until, you feel like you are the most toxic person in your life. NO. You should never have to be afraid of yourself. If dancing makes you happy, dance silently in your room. If having the curtains open makes you feel an emotion diffrent from the usual, open them halfway. If you are so weak you don’t wanna try anymore, just get out of your bed every once in a while and walk a lap around your room. If there’s a person in your life that you want to stick around, but are scared of them not wanting you, ask them questions. If playing with a bouncy ball makes you forget your worries, play with it. If somebody calls you something you know you aren’t, or it shouldn’t be a problem to them at all, Its like being chubby but still being called straight up FAT. You can either choose to let that effect you, maybe get a disorder, cry every night, miss out on food, miss out on life, excetra excetra, or you can choose to say, ‘I’m not fat. I’m healthy, and I love myself, and the people who I love, and the people who love me, don’t care if I’m a bit chubby, then why should it matter to me anyways! They probably like the fact I can make myself happy by eating a doughnut every once in a while!” If you have a big mole, it shouldnt matter. If you have balding hair, it shouldn’t matter. If you are naturally skinny, it shouldn’t matter. “You are a human with one life and it is up to you to make it the best life you can.”-Daniel Howell “Do whatever it takes to be happy”- Daniel Howell  “Use your smile to change the world. Don’t let the world change your smile”.- Shane Dawson “Do what you do, do what makes you unique, do what makes you happy”-Sean McLaughlin “Being happy doesn’t mean everything is perfect. It means you’ve decided to look past the imperfections”-Gerard Way “Push yourself to do new things, go out of your comfort zone. Just do things that you enjoy, things that you’ve always wanted to do”-Christian Novelli(?) “Pancakes”-Daniell Howell These quotes are insanely inspiring. You know why? Because you always say you can’t live like this forever, and thats right. THATS EXACTALY RIGHT. SO MAKE A CHANGE. If you cut, you are insanely stupid. But only because there are so many things you could be doing besides that. It seems like you cut if you have just given up on yourself. Its stupid because the scars could stay forever. You won’t be able to get jobs from shallow bosses, you will always feel insecure about them, shallow people won’t date you, and you’ll wear long sleves, and you won’t feel that safe with the sting and regret the next morning. EVEN IF It’s just trying on cute dresses you like and twirling in them, do WHATEVER IT TAKES TO BE HAPPY. IF black clothes make you feel like you are hiding, change them. IF looking into the stars makes you feel happy, it may be small, but its a change. DO IT. “You’ll never know where life is gunna take you. You’ll never know where your life is gunna go, but you’ll never figure out if you end it”-Shane Dawson “DO IT. JUST DO IT. DON’T LET YOUR DREAMS BE DREAMS.”-Shia Labeouf  Exactaly. Make your dreams be reality. If you want to say hi to somebody, do it. If you know you don’t reeaallly wanna cut, don’t. If you want to be in a band, but think it’ll never work out, why waste the opportunity? YOU ONLY HAVE ONE CHANCE AT LIFE. Don’t let it go to waste by cutting and letting your mind take you over. You are only the best at being yourself, don’t let this mental illness get its way. “I’d rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not”-Miles McKenna “I feel really happy as me and i wouldn’t change anything for the world”-Miles McKenna “Normalness leads to sadness”-Phil Lester “You’re all very beautiful for spacious skies, don’t let anyone think you’re not”-Joey Graceffa “Learn your weaknesses and fears, embrace them, and then nobody will be able to use them”-Sean McLaughlin “They laugh at me because I’m different, I laugh at them because they’re all the same”-Felix whatever the fluck his last name is (pewdiepie) “Be yourself. Don’t worry about what other people are thinking of you”-Phil Lester “I can’t tell you the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everyone”-Ed Sheeran “I don’t wanna hate myself anymore”-Shane Dawson Don’t change yourself. People will criticise you your whole life because they don’t like one thing about you. Be yourself. I don’t care your religon, race, sexuality, identity, or even if you hate your chubby belly. BE YOURSELF AND DON’T LET ANYBODY TAKE THAT RIGHTTT AWAY FROM YOU!!!!! You’re unique. Thats amazing!! “Storms don’t last forever”-Sean McLaughlin “Everything is going to be alright. Maybe not today, maybe not tommorow, but eventually”-Sean McLaughlin “Treat depression as if its a storm. Yeah, it can get brutal and even scary, but if you hang on and keep fighting, the sunshine will come back. It always does.”-Greg Onision “Know this, you can start over each morning.”-Tyler Joseph “Sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind”-Tyler Joseph “Theres always a light at the end of the tunnel no matter how dim it may seem”-Adam Dahlberg “Everything will be ok in the end. If it’s not okay, then it’s not the end”-Ed Sheeran (ok im getting emotional) “Broken crayons still color”-Mark Fischbach IT WILL GET BETTER for me and for you and even though we might be broken, If you strive for happiness and do “whatever it takes to be happy” you will eventually be happy, and even if you don’t wanna right now, might as well do the little things so it’ll be easier to go all out when you are ready. It’s sickening to me the fact that at times I AM SCARED OF MYSELF. I don’t want to keep living like this even though I at the same time want to go deeper into it so MAYBE somebody will care. But instead of wanting somebody to care, MAKE THEM CARE, not by going on a killing spree, but sharing your story and helping whoever it takes.  YOU ARE NOT ALONE. YOU ARE NOT. YOU ARE NOT. All the posts next to this useless one are people going through horrible things as well. It’s ok to cry. Its ok to close your eyes for a moment. It’s ok to have this illness, BUT it’s not to hate yourself for feeling it. SO TELL YOURSELF HOW AMAZING YOU ARE IF NOBODY ELSE WILL.  “Celebrate your minor victories no matter how small they are. It’s important.”-Daniel Howell  I CARE ABOUT ALL OF YOU AND you might be thinking, ‘how tf does she care about me she doesn’t even know my flucking name’ I care about you because you look at the news “20 ppl killed in car crash” you might think, “oh its only twenty”  no. ITS TWENTY UNIQUE LIVES THAT COULD’VE DONE ANYYTHING twenty unique lives that could’ve made others or evEN THEMSELVES happy twenty people that go on totally diffrent paths then the others. I love every one of you sufferers and ending your pRECIOUS LIFE means that one amazing beautiful person is now gone. They can’t do anything about it. Gone. And they’ll never be able to change anybodies lives, including their own, EVER AGAIN. Do this for yourself. Not me. I’m kinda young but I wanna change lives from early on because this REALLY SUCKS and if I can makes somebodies day happier, then thats amazing. I TRULY LOVE YOU ALL.