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mrs-dr-reid · 4 years

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Found

(A Criminal Minds Fic)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Summary: The team often misplaces Spencer in a crowd, and the Reader usually has to resort to “drastic measures” to find him so they can get back to work.

Genre: Sooooo fluffy, my guy.

Warnings: A few swears. One F-Bomb.

A/N: Okay, so, I love those tumblr posts where a fictional character can’t find their friend/sidekick/partner in a crowd, and they yell something to make the other person respond, then go, “Found him/her”, so that’s why I wrote this. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1,630

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Spencer Reid is notorious for getting lost and/or distracted when the team has to enter a large crowd on a case. And funnily enough, Y/N L/N is most known for always being able to find him again so the team can keep working. Albeit through unorthodox means. Here are the top four best instances of how Y/N found Spencer, and one of how Spencer found Y/N.

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One.

The team was canvassing the Santa Monica Pier in regards to a series of drownings in the area. Only problem was it was the busiest day of the week, and it was teeming with people. Hotch, Rossi, and JJ were back at the local police station setting up the investigation board, which left Emily, Derek, Spencer, and Y/N on canvas duty.

They spilt into pairs, and Derek and Emily took the left side of the pier while Spencer and Y/N took the right. After about 20 minutes, Derek called Y/N and said, “You’re on speaker, L/N. We’ve got nothing so far, Little Mama. How’s it going for you and Pretty Boy?”, so she replied, “We managed to get a few things that could be helpful. We’ll have to compare them against the case info, but that shouldn’t be too hard once we get back to the sta...tion,” but trailed off when she noticed Spencer was out of her eyeline.

She said, “Hey, Derek? You or Emily got eyes on Spencer?”, so he responded, “Can’t say we do. Why?”, and Y/N said, “I seem to have misplaced him,” while craning her neck to look around.

Emily said, “Should we try his cell?”, so Y/N said, “No. I’ve got this,” hung up, then cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “GEE, I SURE DO WISH SOMEONE COULD TELL ME HOW MANY KERNELS THERE ARE ON THE AVERAGE EAR OF CORN!!!”

A few seconds went by, then she heard Spencer yell from a churro stand, “STATISTICALLY, THERE ARE OVER 800 KERNELS ARRANGED IN 16 SEPARATE ROWS!”, which made Y/N smile and say, “Found him,” before working her way through the crowd to get to Spencer.

He offered her a churro with a smile, so she accepted it and said, “Thank you. Alright, back to the station with you, Churro Boy,” before grabbing his arm and pulling him along with her.

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Two.

JJ, Hotch, Spencer, and Y/N were checking out the dumpsite for the latest victim in a series of strangulations in Shipshewana, Indiana. The body was found in an alley by a flea market, and while Hotch was talking to the local police on the scene and JJ was questioning the garbage truck driver who discovered the body, Y/N looked up from examining the body and realized that Spencer had wandered off when she wasn’t paying attention, making her whisper, “Goddamnit, not again,” and try to locate Spencer in the sea of heads flowing through the flea market.

Hotch walked over to her and said, “We’re heading back to the station. You know where Reid is?”, so she said, “Not yet, but we both will momentarily,” which made him shoot her a confused look. JJ came over to them, noticed Hotch’s confusion, then said, “You’ll see,” just before Y/N yelled, “I WONDER IF SHERLOCK HOLMES WAS BASED ON A REAL PERSON!!!”

Just before Hotch could ask what that meant, Spencer yelled back, “HE IS!!! SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE MODELED HIM AFTER ONE OF HIS MEDICAL SCHOOL PROFESSORS, DR. JOSEPH BELL!”, which made Y/N smile, say, “There he is,” and pat Hotch’s arm before going to get Spencer. JJ said, “Told you,” and went to get in the SUV.

Y/N found Spencer at a second-hand book stall, and he held up a slightly worn copy of Gone With the Wind and said, “Nearly mint condition for six bucks! Can you believe it?”, so she responded, “Crazy. Let’s get moving, Bookworm,” and grabbed his hand to bring him back over to the SUV.

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Three.

Rossi, Spencer, and Y/N were retracing an unsub’s footsteps through a farmer’s market in Nashville, Tennesse because Emily had made the connection that all four previous victims and the latest victim in a series of abduction-homicides had made purchases there before they vanished.

Rossi took the north end of the market while Spencer and Y/N took the south. After the two of them had interviewed five stall owners, Y/N noticed the absence of a 6’1” shadow looming over her. She took a quick look around her, let out an annoyed sigh when she couldn’t spot Spencer, then said to the owner of the strawberry stall, “Thank you for the information. Now if you’ll excuse me, I seem to have lost track of my colleague,” before venturing into the crowd.

Y/N called Rossi and said, “Did Spencer make his way over to you?”, which prompted his response of, “He did not. Why? Did he wander off on you again?”, so she said, “Yup. I swear, that man has the attention span of a golden retriever. I’ll find him, one sec,” then hung up and put her phone in her pocket. She yelled, “HOW COOL WOULD IT BE TO KNOW THE EXACT NUMBER OF RIVETS THERE ARE IN THE EIFFEL TOWER?!!”, and waited, apologizing to the patrons in her near vicinity for her volume.

Spencer’s voice came from a handful of stalls down with the reply of, “THERE ARE APPROXIMATELY 2,500,000!!!”, which made her mutter, “Bingo,” before heading in the direction of his voice. She found him at a homemade donut stand, and he held up a brown paper bag while saying, “She had my favorite! Chocolate frosted with sprinkles! And she had yours too! Homemade bear claws!”, which made her say, “Excellent. Remind me to put a bell on you when we get back to the precinct,” before taking his arm in hers and dragging him off to find Rossi.

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Four.

Emily, Spencer, and Y/N were tasked with scoping out the latest crime scene in a series of stabbings in Duluth, Minnesota. This particular crime scene happened to be right near a pop-up carnival, and while Emily was talking to the local police, Y/N was interviewing the witnesses, and Spencer was surveying the scene, Y/N turned her head to see that Spencer was no longer by the crime scene.

She whispered, “Son of a bitch,” just as Emily came over to her, which prompted Emily to say, “Reid go AWOL, again?”, and Y/N to respond, “And the man swears he doesn’t have ADHD,” making Emily laugh slightly before saying, “Do your thing, Girlfriend,” and going back to talk to the lead detective.

Y/N yelled, “IF ONLY SOMEONE KNEW HOW LONG PLAYING CARDS HAVE BEEN AROUND FOR!!!”, and a few seconds later, Spencer yelled back, “PLAYING CARDS WERE FOUND IN CHINA THAT DATED BACK TO AT LEAST THE TANG DYNASTY, WHICH WOULD HAVE BEEN FROM AROUND 618 TO 907 A.D.!!!”, which made her mumble, “Yep. Boy Genius located,” before trotting off to look for him.

She found him at the cotton candy vendor with a bag full of the sugary pink stuff, and when she shot him an exasperated look, he said, “What? I was done looking over the crime scene!”, so she grabbed his hand and said, “One of these days, I’m buying you a backpack leash,” before dragging him back to where Emily was, but not before she snatched a handful of cotton candy from the bag he was holding.

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Five.

The whole team was out on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, Louisiana looking to catch an unsub in the act of hunting for their next victim when Y/N got separated from Spencer and Derek. When Spencer noticed, he said, “Hey, Morgan. Did you see where Y/N went?”, which made Derek say, “Nah, man. I thought you two were joined at the hip. Y’all are coming up on three months now,” and wink at Spencer.

He scoffed and said, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she won’t wander off,” before the two men tried looking around in an attempt to spot her. Derek said, “Huh. Normally she’s the one that has to track you down, Pretty Boy. This must be one hell of a role reversal,” and ruffled Spencer’s hair.

Spencer shrugged him off, then said, “Hang on, I want to try something,” and Derek said, “Alright. Get your girl, Lover Boy,” so Spencer rolled his eyes, then cupped his mouth with his hands and yelled, “SPENCER REID IS THE WORST PROFILER IN THE BAU!!!”, and it took less than three seconds for Y/N to yell back, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!?!”, from a few yards away.

Derek burst out laughing, and Spencer smiled fondly before saying, “Found her,” and going to look for Y/N. He found her near some street musicians playing a variety of jazz songs, and when they started playing “La Vie en Rose” by Louis Armstrong, Spencer said, “It’s our song, Y/N/N,” which made her jump before saying, “Yeah, it is,” with a wistful smile on her face.

Spencer wrapped an arm around her waist, then led her back to where Derek was waiting while saying, “You’re never going to live that down. You know that, right?”, so she smacked his chest and said, “Yeah, I know. And here I was always teasing you for wandering away from the group,” before smiling and kissing his cheek.

Spencer smiled, then pressed a quick kiss to her lips before they rejoined Derek to keep an eye out for the unsub, but both Spencer and Y/N had a bit more pep in their step.

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Tag List: @homoose, @hurricanejjareau , @xgoldentigerlilyx, @therestisconfettis, @less-intelligent-spencerreid, @aryaarathornson, @thomasgibsonfan01

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

#logan writes #criminal minds #one shot #reader insert #dr spencer reid

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callunavulgari · 6 years

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TOP 25 FICS OF 2018

1. A Cornstalk Fiddle by @notbecauseofvictories | Devil Went Down To Georgia | The Devil/Johnny | 17k

Where Johnny goes, the Devil follows; where Johnny goes, the Devil is already there.

Heather Says: So. I never thought that my favorite fic of the entire year would be a fic written about a song - and one that I don’t even particularly like - but here I am. I read this fic the same night that I finally broke down and watched Moonlight, and ended up listening to Moonlight’s End Credits and Hello Stranger by Barbara Lewis on repeat while I finished that first chapter on my back porch. This is that perfectly atmospheric fic that you’ll find maybe once every ten years and could probably sustain you on its memory for just as long.

2. Work of All Saints by @kaikamahine | Coco | Imelda/Hector/Ernesto | 210k

Imelda Rivera (b. 1899 - d. 1969), a story that includes but is not limited to: the finest music school this side of the Santo Domingo, three traveling musicians and the mess they made of love, the twice-cursed assassination of Venustiano Carranza, all the patron saints, and ninety-six ways a man can try to cross a bridge.

Heather Says: This story blew my entire mind. It was lovely, and tragic, and hilarious, and everything that a good novel should be. The parts of this fic that map out the unseen lives of Imelda, Hector, and Ernesto, that hidden backstory that a movie can only hint about, were exquisite to the point that I was afraid getting to the point where, well, they die, would be a letdown. It really wasn’t. If anything, the story managed to get richer as it went along, until suddenly you’re in a room sobbing into a pillow at four in the morning and have to be awake in four hours. No regrets.

3. Under the Covers by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 87k

Steve is (maybe) a little bit still in love with Nancy Wheeler and (maybe) trying to figure himself out-- between the night terrors and the babysitting and the general weirdness that is Hawkins, Indiana-- before he graduates.

Billy Hargrove fits in there somewhere (probably).

Heather Says: Under the Covers was the first Harringrove fic that actually kicked me over the edge from ‘eh this ship looks like it would have good hate sex’ and into full-fledged believer. It’s an intricately crafted look into the world of Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington post-season two and it is absolutely glorious.

4. Bloody Ruin by esama | Castlevania | Alucard/Trevor | 37k

Vampire hunter and a vampire try to get along.

Heather Says: Written before season two came out, this was one of those fics that I clicked on because the pairing interested me and I wanted to see how it worked. It did not disappoint, and even after I delved through the tag on ao3 after I marathoned season two, this is still my favorite.

5. a road less traveled and a life less led by Azzandra | Dishonored | Billie & The Outsider | 9k

She took him out of the Void, as promised. And then she kept him, she supposed.

Heather Says: You know all that fanart that started cropping up after Death of the Outsider came out? The ones where Billie and the Outsider crept around Dunwall or Karnaca stealing fish and safes and graffiti-ing buildings? The ones with that found family vibe? Yeah. This fic scratches the same itch that all that art did.

6. But I’m Not There Yet by sarahyyy | Yuri On Ice | Yuri/Otabek | 71k

“Are you not going to read the article?” she asks, flopping onto his bed. “Look who ranked second, just after Phichit Chulanont.”

Otabek reluctantly scrolls down, and oh. #2 - Yuri Plisetsky

In the embedded Instagram photo just under that subheading, a very grumpy Yuri is cuddling a very grumpy-looking cat. The caption reads: I found the cat version of me at the shelter today. #iknowisaidnomorecats #canyoublameme

Heather Says: And here, in the stupid cute category we have teenagers navigating love through social media. What’s more, there’s a companion fic.

7. flowers start to bloom in every different hue by orphan-account | Coraline | Coraline/Wybourn | 1k

Coraline grows up, gets a tattoo, and falls in love. In that order.

Heather Says: I read this fic on a slow day at work, often in quick bursts while I was waiting for the kitchen to finish my table’s food. It’s short. It’s sweet. It’s perfect. And honestly? It’s everything that I was looking for when I ventured into the Coraline tag on ao3 because I was curious.

8. Victory Conditions by @astolat | Transformers | Megatron/Optimus Prime | 37k

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Megatron said mockingly. “You won’t like it, Prime. It’s not a very nice one.”

Heather Says: Fun fact, I’m not even in this fandom. I haven’t touched the Transformers fandom since the first movie came out in 2007 and I spent a very confusing week shipping a boy and his car. But Astolat has literally never lead me wrong, and I was having one of those bored days where nothing quite itches the right spot, so I sat down on the couch and spent two hours reading this. Worth it.

9. just in it for the game by grim_lupine | Thor | Thor/Loki | 6k

“It's excellent rehabilitation for my image,” Loki says, widening his eyes. “They love you, and because of that they'll trust me. You wouldn't ruin this for me, would you?”

Thor glares at him.

Loki’s mouth twitches. “Also, it's the funniest thing that's ever happened to me.”

Heather Says: The Thor/Loki bug never really bit me until after Ragnorak came out. I mean, sure, I read it and it was good, but hella’s Frostiron fics basically destroyed me for any other Loki pairing. HOWEVER. Ragnorak happened and screwed that all the way up. Also, you know, this fic is absolutely lovely and was just what the doctor ordered.

10. so this guy walks into a bar by MasterOfAllImagination | Pacific Rim | Newt/Hermann | 2.5k

“Bourbon,” Hermann says, hooking his cane on the edge of the bar and sliding by degrees onto a stool.

“Straight up?” the bartender asks.

“Please.” Does he look like the kind of man who enjoys having his nostrils fumigated by undiluted whiskey? “On the rocks.”

Heather Says: I coped with Pacific Rim 2 by reading a couple AUs and a couple very, very long fics full of tragedy and math. Weirdly, the AU of a chance meeting in a bar was the one that stuck.

11. cherry pie by @brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 133k

Billy Hargrove lives for summer. Endless sunshine, heavily chlorinated pools, roaming ice cream trucks, and unencumbered freedom? There’s nothing better.

Even being stuck in Hawkins can’t ruin the summer for him. He eats it up, devouring every day whole.

Heather Says: Yeah, okay, but this is the fic that made summer worth it. Highly recommend reading at the pool or with your feet hanging off the back porch. Every piece of this fic was dripping in summertime nostalgia. It was fan-freaking-tastic.

12. the ghost and the good queen val by Wildehack (tyleet) | Thor | Thor/Valkyrie/Loki | 27k

“What,” she says, her heart racing, “was that.”

“What was what?” Korg asks, frowning up at her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Valkyrie squints suspiciously at the ship.

“Oh my god,” Korg says. “You did! You saw a ghost!”

Heather Says: So, remember how I coped with Pacific Rim 2 with copious AUs? This is how I coped with Infinity War.

13. For Better or Worse by DragonBandit | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien | 22k

All Damien ever wanted was someone who wanted him. All Damien deserves is to die alone, stripped bare of any of the comforts or affections of humanity, a title he willingly shed.

Mark Bryant seems to be the Universe's compromise.

Wherein Damien and Mark are soulmates, and this changes enough.

Heather Says: I think I’ve read this one three or four time this year? It’s 22k of well-written fic for a fandom that has a max of like 100 fics all with lengths that tend to vary between a couple hundred words to 2 or 3k, max. This fic is the one that really catapulted me into the fandom.

14. in waves by @lymricks | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 38k

It’s March and it’s too cold for Billy to be shirtless and wearing shorts, but he hadn’t noticed until Harrington appeared and made him hold still. Harrington can’t seem to stop looking at the bruises. “What’s it to you if I miss a little school, Harrington?” Billy asks. He feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

“I don’t know,” Harrington snaps back, looking uncomfortable. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Plant your feet, Billy wants to scream at him. I’m going to bowl you over.

Heather Says: And here we have the first fic that wasn’t written by either @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger or @brawlite that made me realize that this fandom was gonna be a good one. So fantastic.

15. the cure by aquaexplicit | The Flash | Cisco/Harry | 43k

“I guess I don’t really get what you need to fix? Harrison Wells is a hot, rich genius that pays you to make cool stuff with his daughter and is totally into you. If you guys boning is the biggest problem you have, I think this officially qualifies as your best relationship ever.”

When Barry puts it like that, everything sounds so simple and not at all as angst ridden as Cisco has been suffering the past few months.

Cisco hangs up on him.

Heather Says: I remember a couple years ago, I fell absolutely head over heels for this one Sterek fic where Derek had twin toddlers and Stiles was the hired babysitter. So I think there’s something about dad + babysitter fics that get me, even if this one in particular the ‘baby’ in question is a fifteen year old genius. Still. Dad + babysitter. I don’t even know, but apparently it works for me.

16. pull out the insides by SpineAndSpite | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien | 3k

“Stop,” Damien says again, more insistent this time.

“I’m not doing it on purpose.” Mark's heart pounds in his ears and he sees Damien’s hands shaking. God. They shouldn’t have started talking about sex. Shouldn’t have filled in the colors and shadows to this pencil outline of a sketch forming between them. They shouldn’t have given it a name.

Heather Says: This year seems to have had a theme when it comes to fics that I’ve liked and it seems to boil down to: people who are bad for each other have sex and catch feelings. Mark/Damien is not the healthiest ship. But it also hurts in this stupidly tragic way and hell if I didn’t fall head over heels for it.

17. tell me, get my shit together by paperclipbitch | Star Wars | Han/Lando | 5k

“I thought we were actively avoiding each other after the Trandosha Shitshow,” Han says.

“We’re actively avoiding each other after the Iridonia Shitshow,” Lando corrects him, “the Trandosha Shitshow is That Which We Do Not Speak Of.”

Heather Says: So, guess what I did in the two to three hours after seeing Solo? If you guessed: ‘combed through ao3 until you ran out of fic’ ding ding ding, you are 100% correct. This one was very, very good, which makes sense, because paperclipbitch has some good shit.

18. chases, escapes, true love, miracles by pepperfield | The Flash | Cisco/Harry 55k

Just because the timeline has been restored, doesn't mean things are back to normal. Cisco's got 99 problems, and Harry Wells is approximately 38 of them.

In which Cisco makes a bunch of plans, fails most of them, narrowly avoids being disintegrated, receives a hug or two, finds his groove, and gets his man. More or less in that order.

Heather Says: This one was long and wibbly wobbly, because it was basically what season 3 should have been. But it was also really great, and had some super quality Harrisco interactions.

19. Your Pretty Little Heart by Ever-so-reylo | Star Wars | Reylo | 64k

Modern day AU in which Ben is an Alpha, Rey is an Omega, and they are way better at having sex than at communicating with each other.

Heather Says: Speaking of people who are probably a little bit bad for each other... This particular fic was new to me, not because of the um, extensive sexual content, but because I’m usually not a fan of A/B/O. But this one was extremely good, enough that I actually liked it for a/b/o aspect rather than in spite of it.

20. Draconia by perceived_nobility | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien | 4k

"So I was driving. One ex wife and one ex husband later, stopping at the same fucking gas stations you and I stopped at."

Heather Says: This fic actually prompted a 3 hour long conversation on the ‘adult’ Mark/Damien discord where we basically outlined an entire fic that I never got around to writing where Damien is raising a child, has a farm, and runs into Mark ten years down the ride. One day, I might write it, because vaguely domestic, meet-again-ten-years-down-the-road fics always bowl me right the fuck over and just. There needs to be more fic like this one in the world. But until then, the world can marvel at the beauty that is this one.

21. Artifice by buttpatrol | Wolf 359 | Hera/Eiffel | 23k

A story told in parts about colour palettes, identity, robot uprisings, sensational trials, space, and messy love.

Heather Says: As I’ve recently finished relistening to Wolf 359 I have a fresh appreciation for this fic, which is one of the only longer fics on ao3 that just grips you by the heart and squeezes the same way that the series does. It might have been written before the end of the series, but it’s honestly just as perfect.

22. (shoot the lights out, hide) till its bright out by lipgallagher | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 93k

The most dangerous thing walking around Hawkins goes by the name Billy Hargrove.

And he fucking knows it.

Heather Says: I’m kind of cheating here, because this is a series rather than a single fic, but I’m not picking just one part. I read the first four or so parts of this fic when I was visiting my family in South Carolina and spent the next few days wandering around the place half-in Steve Harrington’s headspace. It was an incredibly surreal experience, which lead to a pretty strong combination of mania, depression, and an indescribable craving for ice cream. So like, maybe don’t read this fic if you’re in a bad head space? But also it’s very good and features one of the most fucked up and intriguing Steve’s that I’ve seen yet.

23. Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by Reiya | Yuri On Ice | Yuuri/Viktor | 197k

‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’

Heather Says: I actually read this one on the plane ride down to South Carolina, and kind of didn’t like it at first? I’m not sure if it was just the act of putting Yuuri and Victor into the position of rivals that made me uncomfortable or the goddamn delays that turned half a day of travelling into a full one, but eventually I was able to get into and enjoyed it quite a bit. I really like the rivals to lovers trope, so I’d been looking forward to this one a lot.

24. Traveling Far by @astolat | Game of Thrones | Jaime/Brienne | 24k

Three weeks into their delightful slog across Westeros, during yet another charming day of shitting in the woods, eating half-raw squirrel, and trudging his feet bloody, the single most dour and uninteresting woman Jaime had ever met in all of Westeros stopped in the middle of a field, drew a deep breath, and said, “When I was seven, my aunt came to visit with her son. My father told me that as the daughter of the house, it was my duty to show hospitality to my guests and to be gracious to them. I wanted to make him proud. So for three weeks, I let my cousin follow me around and talk to me about spiders.”

Heather Says: I’ve become very fond of astolat’s Jaime/Brienne fics, and I think this one is my favorite yet. Featuring Starks, found family, and a whole lot of walking.

25. lilies of the valley (cover me with kisses, make my garden grow) by diasterisms | Star Wars | Reylo | 8k

Every girl is entitled to the mistake. That one colossal fuck-up that permanently alters the terrain of who you are. You'll either learn from it or you won't, so might as well have the time of your life.

Heather Says: I just. I really like flower shop AUs, and the idea of a Kylo Ren who owns a sleek flower shop being menaced by a tiny gremlin in a leather jacket just. Kills me. It was really sweet and all kinds of wonderful.

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joaquinwhorres · 7 years

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Broken Wings (Billy Hargrove x Hopper!Reader)

The Broken Wings Series

Read Part 2 >

Summary: Being a Hopper means you always step up and never give up. (And never ever mention how corny that is as a motto.) You’ve held onto these words for the past 11 years and they’ve never led you astray. But when another dimension and a huge asshole come into play, it’s hard to live up to your Dad’s standards.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Hopper!Reader (Slow burn)

Word Count: 1,737

Author's Note: So, before I wrote "Idiot" this just kind of came pouring out. It's a prologue more than anything else, but if you guys want to read more (knowing it will be probably a 10+ part series and I'm feeling a Billy Hargrove x Reader fic for this one) let me know because we can all use some Dad!Hopper, and frankly I'm feeling a little Billy x Redemption. Also, excuse the melodramatic title.

Warnings: Broken families. Child’s death.

You never had the luxury of a normal life.

From the moment you were conceived, circumstances with your family had been...different. Your parents met at a party. It was your dad's last hoorah before he got shipped over to Vietnam. Your dad once mentioned--while very drunk--that your mom had considered it an act of patriotism, a service to her country to slip away with the attractive young enlisted man.

This red, white, and blue spirit wore off about a month later when your mother found, well, you.

Letters were exchanged. Decisions were made. And when your dad came back, the two of them reconnected. They got to know each other. He got to know you. And, a couple of years later they got married, papers were signed, and you were all officially Hoppers. It was a testament to how things, no matter how convoluted they may be, tended to work themselves out.

You were six when they announced you were going to be a big sister and seven when you learned what that really meant.

You remember standing in front of your dad's chair in the hospital waiting room as he took both of your hands and looked you in the eyes. "Do you know what it means to be a Hopper, Y/N?" he asked. You shook your head, and he gave you a soft smile, running his thumbs over the backs of your hands. "Being a Hopper means you always step up. Do you know what that means?"

"Kind of," you drew out the words.

"It means that when you notice someone needs help, you don't wait to be asked, you go help them. And you don't give them enough help. You go above and beyond. You do whatever you can to help. Until they're good."

"What if they don't want help?" you asked. Your father moved back in his seat a little and looked you up and down. And then, almost in slow motion, his lips curled up into a smile.

"Well, Y/N," he said, leaning even closer to you. "The other thing about Hoppers, is we don't give up. Even if we should." You smiled back at him as he shook your hands twice before releasing them. "I want you to know this because when the baby's born, you go on-duty," he poked your belly and you giggled. "As the big sister, you have to show the baby what it means to be a Hopper. Think you can do that?"

You nodded and he smiled, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. Shortly after, your new sister was born and you were officially on-duty.

You took to your new role as big sister like a fish to water. It was as if at seven you just knew that you were born to do this. You made your own breakfast–cereal, every day. You set and cleared the table for your parents. You put yourself to bed at night and let your parents know they could come and tuck you in. In the morning, you made your bed. When Sara cried, you tried distracting her with toys. As she got older, you played peek-a-boo with her and tried teaching her rhymes (despite the fact that your parents explained babies couldn't understand rhymes.) By the time she was four you were routinely sneaking out of your bed and into hers so you could read her extra bedtime stories.

And then, at eleven, came the second piece of news that changed your life.

While starting middle school should have been your biggest worry at the time, instead it became whose house were you going over after school. You had sleepover after sleepover, and when that became too wearing for your friends' families, it was babysitter after babysitter as your parents took Sara to her different hospital appointments. And then, instead of the three of them going to the hospital to visit the doctors, it became the three of you going to the hospital to visit Sara. And one day, instead of the hospital, it was the graveyard.

Life was different after Sara. Your father never pulled you aside and sat you down to explain what it meant now that you were off-duty. There was no explanation of how you could expect your life to change now that you were no longer a sister. You had a feeling that the rules no longer applied, but like a true Hopper, you refused to give them up.

Even though you probably should have.

While you wished your parents would usher you into life after Sara in the same way that they ushered you into life with Sara, you understood, even at twelve, why they couldn't.

Your father was falling apart. It was all he could do to ask you how your day at school was and share a small tidbit of his work happenings before he sat himself down in his chair with a bottle of beer or a glass of something dark and listened to his records for the rest of the night.

Your mother was never home. She disappeared for days at a time to be with her friends or relatives or somewhere else. You had suspected it was because she found it hard to look at you. You had the same blonde hair. The same blue eyes. It wasn't until you came home early–on time, really–from school one day that you heard why.

You could still see her in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. The phone was stretched down to her, and she was crying into it, mascara leaving dark rings around her eyes. "Jim's always on me about how I'm not spending enough time with Y/N, but I'm the one who's dragging him to bed drunk. And Y/N always needs me to sign a permission slip or is asking me what's for dinner," she sniffled, wiping at her eyes and smudging her makeup further. "It's like they're suffocating me. And this house…this house is like a mausoleum. It's just full of dead people. I can't be here anymore." She shook her head, dissolving into tears. You had crept past her and locked yourself away from your room and decided it was time to step up.

You started making yourself breakfast, lunch, and basic dinners. At first, you had thought that you'd need to make a show out of it so your mother knew she didn't have to make dinner anymore. It didn't take too long to learn that your mother wouldn't make dinner unless asked.

It wasn't long after you started cooking for yourself and forging your mother's signature that she officially moved out.

One day you came home, and she was gone, leaving behind only a letter to your father. You had, out of curiosity read it. It was angry, bitter, heartbreaking, and unfair. You had been given a single line of thought.

Tell Y/N I'm sorry.

It had been a heartbreaking and surprising betrayal. For the first four years of your life it had been just you and your mother. Even though you hardly remembered that time, you'd assumed it would have meant something to her. But when Sara died, it was as if she took you with her.

After reading the letter, your father had taken down a half-drunk bottle of bourbon, gone into his room, closed the door, and put a Jim Croce album on. You had gone to his door and heard him crying over the sounds of "I Got a Name." You slid down the door the same way your mother slid down that kitchen wall and cried with him.

You were too sick to go to school the next day.

When the papers were signed, you were thirteen. It was a month after the divorce was finalized that your dad packed you up and moved you back to his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana. While at first you missed the big city feel and your friends from your old school, you met Jonathan Byers and the two of you became fast friends. Not the kind of friends where you went over each other's houses or hung out on the weekend or that you even talked about to your dad. No, you were the kind of friends who sat with each other at lunch so you didn't have to sit alone.

But then you left for high school, and Jonathan stayed behind, and you made new friends and made the shift into a normal life. Well, a normal life with an alcoholic and absentee father, but in Hawkins, as much as you could tell, detached parents was the norm. The days of you and your parents and Sara going out for walks in the park was a brief dream that you were lucky to be a part of. Going to school, getting involved in clubs, coming home to take care of your father, and sneaking out later at night to meet up with the boy you were currently seeing—that was truly what it meant to be a normal teenager. And you were ok with that. You were happy to be normal, and it seemed like for once, life had sort of settled into a predictable pattern.

And then junior year.

When Will Byers went missing, everything changed. And that's not just because Hawkins practically went on shut down because everybody was freaking out over a missing kid.

It was because your dad stopped drinking.

And you reconnected with Jonathan after stepping up to help him find his brother.

And, oh yeah, you also discovered that there was another dimension that monsters could crawl through to eat people.

Your world became a lot smaller that year. In a good way. It was almost as if all of the extraneous people who had been walking in and out of your life just disappeared and all that was left was who really mattered: Your dad. The Byers. Nancy Wheeler. El. The four goons. And, to some extent, Steve Harrington, who had saved your life.

You had never had the luxury of a normal life.

But you had the luxury of being a Hopper, and when your dad opened the door to your new home, your great-grandfather's cabin in the woods, and you saw El sitting in the dark, alone on the dusty old couch, you knew that was something she could use too.

And you were on-duty.

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junker-town · 5 years

Text

Walter McCarty has put Evansville back on the map

Evansville Aces basketball was once a small college powerhouse. Walter McCarty is working on bringing that energy back.

With a little over four minutes left to play, the only fans making noise in Rupp Arena are wearing purple and orange. They have plenty to celebrate: Noah Frederking had just drained a three-point shot to extend the Evansville Aces’ lead against the No. 1 Kentucky Wildcats to 61-55.

Evansville has been the better team for the entire game. A small contingent of Evansville faithful made the trip to Lexington, strategically seated in sections 36 and 236, off in the corner of the arena. As the game reaches its climax, those sections are loud enough to overpower the home crowd: “Aces! Aces!”

After Kentucky’s Immanuel Quickley’s missed three-pointer, Keion Brooks Jr. grabs an offensive rebound and lays it in to make it 61-57. But Kentucky isn’t supposed to be satisfied with trimming Evansville’s lead to four. Kids around the arena look worried, and their parents do too, even while trying to act like everything is fine.

With the score at 63-60 and Evansville in possession, the crowd wakes up, desperate for a stop. They’ve been working hard all game to try to get their team back into the contest, a testament to how good Kentucky fans are and how much trouble they’re in.

The Aces’ K.J. Riley goes in for a contested layup, misses, grabs the offensive rebound with two Wildcats over his back, and tips it in to give his team a five-point lead with 1:41 to go. The hopeful Kentucky cheers die down, replaced by a booming roar from the corner of the arena. The noise is both shocking and impressive, coming from such a tiny group of fans. Walter McCarty, Evansville’s coach, claps twice and doesn’t lose composure, immediately looking to the other end of the floor to watch his team play defense. He knows he has the Wildcats right where he wants them.

And now things are starting to feel very real: Evansville might beat No. 1 Kentucky at Rupp Arena.

McCarty, his assistants Bennie Seltzer and Terrence Commodore (better known as T.C.), and his best friend Troy White are eating Mister B’s pizza and wings in the players’ lounge on the University of Evansville campus. Their final practice at home had just wrapped up, and the team takes off for Lexington on Monday. On the TV, the 1-7 Falcons are playing the Saints.

“God dang, he’s slow,” Seltzer says of quarterback Matt Ryan after a scramble. Everybody in the room is laughing.

“I might be able to beat him in a race right now,” McCarty replies.

“Look at Matt Ryan’s face, look at the determination!” Seltzer says after a replay is shown.

Even the ability to gather in the players’ lounge, watch some football and eat in peace is a testament to the work that McCarty has done at Evansville. His players and staff enjoy being at the facility. They can relax there. It’s not rare for players to funnel in and out of his office. Their practice facility is a home for everybody involved with Evansville basketball, and McCarty wouldn’t have it any other way.

The 6’10, salt-and-pepper bearded McCarty was raised on the south side of Evansville, just on the western side of Highway 41, which runs north-south and splits the city in two. He grew up with one brother, two sisters, his mother and a stepdad who came around when he was in early elementary school.

Walter’s mother Joy worked at Eaton Axle in the assembly line across the river in Henderson, Kentucky, and would pick up waitressing at the American Legion or at a bar to make extra money for the family. His stepdad, Steven Lindsey, worked at Alcoa, an aluminum producer, and went to sleep early, having to start work at 4 a.m. When Joy was going into work, Steven was coming home, and vice versa. “[My siblings and I] weren’t alone,” McCarty says. “We were stable. But you know, they weren’t really strict.”

In sixth grade, he met Troy White while at Plaza Park in middle school, an East Side kid. The two bonded over basketball. As they got older, their relationship developed, and now they’re damn near inseparable. McCarty and White aren’t like peanut butter and jelly. Peanut butter and jelly are like McCarty and White.

”We kind of know how to play off each other,” McCarty says. “You know how they say like twins have a certain connection? It’s not like that, but we’ve been around each other so long, we’re almost the same.”

Basketball started clicking for McCarty at Harrison High School basketball camps. “I went from 6’3 in eighth grade, to the start of my freshman year at 6’7. It was crazy, but at the same time, it started clicking, and that’s when I knew right there, I wanted to play. Then like, when you grow to be 6’10, to me, I was like, ‘Man, this is my way out. I gotta do it. This is my way out.’”

It was. Basketball took McCarty to Lexington and the University of Kentucky, where he won a national championship in 1996 under Rick Pitino. While at Kentucky, McCarty forged a bond with Tony Delk so strong that he describes him as another brother.

“When I think about Kentucky, and I think about Lexington, I think about that brotherhood and the connection we had with each other,” he says. “I don’t think about Kentucky as the basketball mecca; it’s about the brotherhood that we had when we were there. Kentucky’s always had great teams and will continue to have great teams. But it’s about the relationships that I built there.”

”One of his nicknames in college was ‘Mr. Personality,’” White says. McCarty cracks up, adding that the nickname was “given to me by Jamal Mashburn.”

It’s an accurate nickname. When McCarty is in a room, he radiates an energy everybody feeds off. He has a deep voice, booming when it has to be, soft when he sings. He’s good about being kind to everybody, introducing himself to people when he gets a vibe they might be too shy to talk to him. If he senses somebody is having a bad time, he takes it upon himself to fix it.

”He knows how to work with people, he knows how to develop relationships,” White says. “He knows when he develops a relationship, how to maintain it. Never has his success gotten to him in such a way that he has forgotten who he is at his core.”

McCarty was taken by the New York Knicks in the first round of the 1996 NBA Draft, selected 19th overall. White followed McCarty to New York and spent his rookie season with him there. Just two kids from Evansville, taking on New York City.

”To grow up in Evansville, and to be able to have a friend that thinks enough of you to put you in a situation that could ultimately change your life, like,” he pauses, collecting himself, “Those experiences that he’s given me have changed my life. It’s not something I take for granted.”

After enjoying their pizza and wings, plus a surprising Atlanta Falcons’ victory, McCarty, White and Seltzer make their way to Mo’s House, a bar in Evansville’s Haynie’s Corner Arts District owned by Moriah Hobgood, one of the city’s most influential entrepreneurs.

The men enter, and head for the outdoor area that opened in April. It’s a beautiful day, 66 degrees with just a few clouds. McCarty and Seltzer have their cigar boxes, spark a couple, and ask for coffees with bourbon cream. White gets a hot chocolate, because he’s not a drinker.

McCarty pulls out his portable speaker and lets some Babyface play. There are hardly any people at Mo’s right now, but it won’t stay that way for long. For now, McCarty is letting the music ride, and is singing along. Conversation among the three floats all over the place, from college hoops to Lamar Jackson’s latest eye-popping touchdown to Dion Waiters having a panic attack over an edible. At times they let things pass in silence because they have the type of relationship where nothing needs to be said. Everybody is perfectly fine enjoying each other’s physical presence.

This bar is where McCarty wants to be if they beat Kentucky. “We going to come back here and tell Mo, ‘Mo, you’re opening, Mo. We’re going to Mo’s right now, off the bus!’”

As the bar gets busier, a fan comes up to McCarty, shakes his hand, and wishes him luck against Kentucky, but in a way that implied he had no confidence in McCarty’s team.

McCarty ignores the slight and replies, “Yeah, we’ll get ‘em.”

The University of Evansville has a rich basketball history. A small college powerhouse under Arad McCutchan, they routinely beat Division I schools, and even had an undefeated national championship season in 1965. Coached by the man they called “Mac” and powered by legends like Larry Humes and Jerry Sloan, the Aces won five national titles.

When the program moved up to Division I in 1977, a smooth transition seemed likely. There were talented players on the squad, and in Bobby Watson they had a fresh face who looked like a worthy successor to Mac after his retirement.

But on December 13 of that same year, as the team was traveling to play Middle Tennessee State, their plane clipped trees in the Melody Hills neighborhood on Evansville’s north side, and fell into a ravine. All 29 people on board Indiana Air Flight 216 died. More than 40 years later, the accident is still known as “The Night It Rained Tears.”

There’s no telling where Aces basketball would be today had it not been for that tragic night. The program’s most successful coach since the crash has been Jim Crews, who made four NCAA tournaments in 16 years and has a banner hanging in the rafters at the Ford Center, where the Aces play today. That’s fine for a mid-major, but because of the success the school had as a small college program, there’s always been a nagging feeling that Evansville could do better.

The legacy of the plane crash is a generational gap among Aces fans. Most that show up to games nowadays are older than the average college hoops crowd. They’re the ones who remember when the Aces were a must-see. For the past four decades, that hasn’t been the case. Evansville has long had the type of crowds that mostly cheer when a player is subbed out and had a good performance, or when the fight song is playing. But that’s changing.

When McCarty was hired in March 2018, Evansville immediately felt his presence. He is the most important hire that the university has made since Mac called it quits. The university needed a young, energetic, intelligent basketball mind, and now they have one.

McCarty, then an assistant with the Boston Celtics, had interviews with other schools, but Evansville ended up working out perfectly, even when it may not have seemed like it to him. The recruiting process went fast. After a phone interview, Evansville’s athletic director Mark Spencer had a chat with Celtics head coach Brad Stevens. Stevens later told McCarty, “Man, I don’t know what you did, but this guy, he loves you.”

After a second interview, boosters were lined up to call McCarty. McCarty was in New Orleans, with the Celtics set to play the Pelicans.

”I’m waiting on these boosters to call, I’m trying to find the Kentucky game, and go somewhere and smoke a cigar,” McCarty says. “I found a place, turned this game on, and a booster calls me and it goes great. The next booster calls me, and it goes great. The next booster calls, goes great. All I’m thinking is, ‘They hear all this shit in the background, this ain’t the guy.’ Because I’m watching Kentucky basketball, it was just like, ‘I blew that shit, I blew it.’ Not knowing that I did a great job.”

A day later, Spencer hinted to McCarty, “When you come home on your trip, I might not let you leave.”

But despite the reassurance, McCarty didn’t have high hopes. The Celtics were about to go to Portland to start a two-week road trip, so McCarty sent his bags on ahead with the team. He was planning on going to Evansville, doing his interview, and joining the Celtics in Portland afterward.

As Spencer drove McCarty back to his hotel in downtown Evansville with then-senior associate athletic director Lance Wilkerson in the back seat, Spencer showed McCarty just how badly the university wanted him there.

“Mark hands me the contract, and he’s like, ‘I told you I wasn’t going to let you leave. I don’t want you to leave,’” McCarty says. “He was really emotional about it.”

The trio went up to McCarty’s room where he signed the contract and became the eighth head coach in Evansville’s history.

McCarty was an easy choice, not only for the school, but for the assistants who have joined him along the way.

”Everything that our guys are trying to accomplish, our coach has already been through it,” Seltzer says. “So why wouldn’t you listen to him? Why wouldn’t that be a focal point of, ‘Hey man, this guy really knows what he’s talking about’? And I think that really translates to our guys. He’s done it in a way where – you know I’ve coached with guys that curse the kids out, talk shit to them and talk crazy to them. I’ve also coached with guys where once you leave the gym, you’ll never see them. You gotta talk to the secretary to schedule an appointment, that’s crazy. That’s crazy to me. And here, Coach is — he’s accessible as any coach I’ve ever been with and I think our guys appreciate that. That’s different; that hardly happens anywhere.”

The comfort the players have with coming in and out of the coaches’ offices is great, but can be a little much sometimes, as T.C. jokes, “They here so much we gotta run them off sometimes, like, don’t you got something to do?”

McCarty’s personality and energy are consistent, expressed in the culture he’s instilled at Evansville, his style as a basketball player, and his attitude as a head coach.

“I am a true kid that grew up across 41 and didn’t have a whole lot. And, shoot, I never thought in a million years I’d be the head coach at the University of Evansville. I used to pass this university every day, you know? I love sometimes on game days, I’m driving down to the arena, and I’m thinking, ‘Man, I used to go to church there,’ you know what I’m saying? It’s one of those like, ‘Damn. Good shit happens when you work.”

“I wanna be here for a long time,” he says very seriously. “That means we’re kicking ass and doing a good job. I’m here to create a program that’s going to be sustainable for a long time. That’s my goal.”

McCarty’s status as Evansville’s head coach is also significant because he is a black man. Evansville’s history as a city is complicated. Situated in a midwestern state, it also has many southern qualities. The city’s location in southwestern Indiana meant a quick trip across the Ohio River for Kentucky residents, who may not have always been as hospitable towards blacks as northerners.

When McCarty was hired, Evansville lost some big boosters. Was it because he was the university’s first black coach? “From hearing from other people in this program,” he says, “I felt that way.”

But he hasn’t let the defections faze him.

”I thought about this, coming here and being the first African-American head coach at this university. Our people here in Evansville, especially people of color — what leaders do they see, other than a parent, a pastor, or an insurance guy or something? There’s not a lot of people they can look up around and be like, ‘He’s really doing his job to bring his community together and people can look up to him.’ I gotta own that, and I got to make sure I do good by that.”

He’s not worried about the lost boosters. “Just like music, sports — those are things that bring people together, right? We’ll get ‘em back. We’ll get ‘em back. We win, we do the right thing, they’ll come back. They’ll come back. That’s what we’re betting on – building the right program, building this culture.

“If you’re an Aces fan, you love basketball, we’re going to win you back.”

White comes in through the side door around 11 a.m., just in time for practice. His arrival is timed perfectly: McCarty is making his way down the hallway right where he’s entering.

“You guys got film?” White asks.

“Yeahhh, man,” McCarty drags out in response.

White knows the drill, and goes to the practice court while the team looks over film of the Wildcats in the players lounge. Nobody is intimidated by the thought of playing against the country’s top team.

“After I got the job, I saw [John Calipari] somewhere. He comes up to me and just says, ‘Man, tell me what I can do. I’ll do anything for you, but I’m not coming to Evansville,’” McCarty says. “So I said, ‘Let’s get a game.’ He didn’t even hesitate, he’s like, ‘Let’s do it.’ And it got done.”

Film ends at 11:50 and the Aces are coming out onto the floor. Sam Cunliffe is the first one out and comes to White’s end of the court. He says something to White, who laughs and responds, “Get focused, get focused.” A couple of other players join in as the team is warming up with stretches from the baseline to half-court. White also encourages them to focus, and they do, because they respect him as much as anybody else in the building.

The pace picks up when McCarty comes out a couple minutes later decked in a gray Nike sweatsuit, a teal Jordan Brand T-shirt and some Air Jordan 3s in the Knicks’ colorway. He turns on “6 Man” by Drake, the music soon accompanied by the frenzied squeaking of sneakers on the basketball floor.

The practice court has changed since McCarty was hired. There are now banners on both ends of the gym, one with pictures of current players and the other bearing the names of Evansville Aces legends. The championship banners that once hung on the far side of the gym have been replaced by “EVERY POSSESSION MATTERS.” On the other end: “PLAY WITH A PURPOSE.”

Seltzer and T.C. walk over and start making conversation with White about the Aces win against Ball State the night before. White wasn’t able to make it because he was in Louisville at an Anthony Hamilton concert.

“I saw the score at half and I said, ‘Oh shit, they must be playing today!’” Troy tells them with a laugh.

And they were playing. Evansville jumped out to a 40-18 halftime lead, but nearly surrendered it, ultimately winning 79-75. Today, the coaches are going to try to iron things out, because a second half like that won’t fly against Kentucky. Seltzer and T.C. work their way over towards the team, which is done stretching and ready to get to work. They’re also joined by assistant coach Logan Baumann, who has been at half-court with Isaac McGlone, the director of basketball operations for the team.

Baumann takes the Aces through a play, giving very specific instructions not just on where to be, but the angle they should take, hand placement, everything. Baumann was a part of Louisville’s 2013 national championship winning team, and by the way he handles the Aces players you can tell he’s going to be a Power 5 head coach one day. On the floor, he’s a spitting image of a top-level coach, serious and meticulous.

Baumann seems pleased with how the guys are responding to what he’s telling them, and says, “If we can get this right, we’re going to be in good shape,” which was the overarching message of the practice. They know they can win the game. McCarty adds encouragement.

“After that, it’s just about effort plays. Who wants it?”

“If you do what we tell you to do, you will make baskets.”

McCarty’s coaching style is all about trusting his players. He puts them in the right spot and gives them the tools to succeed, and then it’s up to them. He’s taken bits and pieces from the men he’s worked under, but he’s his own guy.

He learned Xs and Os from playing all five positions throughout his career. Having learned the basics as a player, once he became a coach it was mostly about fine-tuning. “For me, I’ve always made it a point to figure out and ask, ‘Well why are you successful?’ Whether it was with Coach P (Rick Pitino), Mike D’Antoni, Jeff Van Gundy, Mike Dunleavy, Jim O’Brien, Brad Stevens, I’ve always done that.”

McCarty is confident in his players, and confident in himself too. He has to be. “In practice sometimes, I may go off script,” he says. “I’ll be like, ‘OK, board,’ and just start working. So I have that command and attention, but that confidence in the game for whatever I’m doing. Because if there’s any hesitation, if there’s any sign that you don’t believe it or whatever, shit, they see it. And then it really ain’t gonna work.

”I tell my guys, ‘Go make the right play. Just go have fun, go make the right play.’ We’re starting to build that confidence. What you’re doing is you’re letting them know that you trust them, but what you get out of it is, they’re going to run through a wall for you.”

That confidence and calm was still present as the team prepared to go to Lexington. On a cold and drizzly day in Evansville, it was business as usual for the Aces. Popeyes three-pieces awaited the team on the bus, though some players opted to go to the student center across the street and grab some Chick-fil-A.

McCarty was the last one on the bus, and looked like he had just walked out of his barber’s chair. McCarty knows when you look good, typically you do good: there’s an invincible feeling that comes with a fresh cut. He put off his haircut just so he would look his best for his return to Lexington.

The next morning, the team is at shootaround at Rupp Arena around 11 a.m. The guys are warming up, and McCarty is looking up into the rafters, where Kentucky’s old-timey banners hang displaying Final Four appearances, runners-up and national championships. He says, “It’s a great day to be a Purple Ace.”

The warmup line gets down to the baseline where he’s standing, and he says, “You see that?” to a couple of Aces, pointing to the 1996 championship banner. “I did that.” The players get a kick out of it, and keep on going about their business.

The team is doing one last walkthrough of what to expect later on in the evening, and players and coaches remain focused and detailed. When going through a play, McCarty tells his team, “You gotta ask yourself, ‘What can I do for my teammates?’” he says. “You guys are going to have open shots all night.”

After they break the final huddle concluding practice, the team sits on the bench they will occupy later that night. They are still very loose for a mid-major walking into an environment like this. Kentucky has a 39-game win streak as an AP No. 1 team at home against non-conference opponents, and the empty arena has an ominous feeling to it.

Then, redshirt sophomore DeAndre Williams gets loud.

“Great day to be a Purple Ace!” he yells. He begins to clap, and clap hard. “Give me that shit, coach! Great day to be a Purple Ace!”

Evansville’s Shamar Givance brings the ball down the floor with less than a minute to go. Kentucky’s Tyrese Maxey is sliding down the court with him step by step. With a late, tight lead, McCarty makes his guys slow things down. Clock is burning. His guys are calm, and they can focus on executing, which is exactly what he stresses in practice. They’re prepared for this moment, and they know it.

After a handful of dribbles at the logo, Givance gets the ball to K.J. Riley, who drives and kicks the ball out to a wide open Noah Frederking. Evansville’s bench rises at the same time Frederking’s shot does, and you could feel the soul draining out of Big Blue Nation as the ball hung in the air. If the shot goes in, the game is done.

It doesn’t, and the Wildcats get a quick two on the other end thanks to Immanuel Quickley. There are 44.5 seconds left, and going from the near-dagger to a quick Kentucky basket could have spelled doom for the Aces. Had Frederking hit that shot, Kentucky fans would be walking back to their cars. Instead, the Wildcats have life.

Evansville drains some clock on the next possession, but aren’t able to get a shot off, and a shot clock violation is called. With 13.7 seconds left, Kentucky opts a quick two-pointer rather than a three, sending Maxey on a drive to the basket, to make it a 65-64 game with eight seconds remaining.

Everybody at Rupp Arena is on their feet. Evansville has been the better-coached team up to this point, and their players have played harder. The 25-point underdogs just need to be better than No. 1 Kentucky for eight more seconds and they will have pulled off the biggest win in program history.

Sam Cunliffe is fouled after an inbounds pass, and calmly walks to the free-throw line. He gives all his teammates five on his way to the stripe. At the line, Cunliffe gets the ball from the referee, takes a quick dribble, and wastes no time putting the basketball through the net. It silences the Rupp Arena crowd quickly, before it can even reach peak volume. He does the same on the second free throw. The Aces lead, 67-64.

Kentucky’s Nate Sestina inbounds the ball to Maxey, who dribbles quickly down the Rupp Arena logo painted on the side of the court. He pulls up just to the side of the bottom of the K on the UK logo at mid-court while Evansville’s Artur Labinowitz carefully contests the shot, avoiding giving Kentucky three foul shots. The high arching shot falls short, and Riley dribbles the ball to safety. McCarty, cool as ever, walks down the court to shake hands with John Calipari and the Wildcats.

The Evansville Aces, under former Kentucky national champion Walter McCarty, have gone into Lexington and beat the Wildcats on their home court.

The elevator going down to the floor level is mostly Kentucky fans with mostly unhappy faces. But one older lady clutches her purse and says, “So Walter came into Rupp Arena and beat ‘em!? Look at that!”

Just inside the tunnel is White, who is jumping up and down, beside himself with excitement. “You come in this motherfucker and win!?” he yells. “That is fucking amazing!”

“I got to call my mom,” he says, pacing and jumping. “I got to call my mom.” He calls her. “Mama! I don’t know if you were watching the game, but Walter just beat Kentucky. Just beat them at Kentucky, Mom! They just beat Kentucky at home, Ma! Oh, my gosh!” He’s still jumping while on the phone.

Tony Delk makes his way into the tunnel and jokes with White, “Get off the phone, man! Get off the phone!” They exchange dap, and share an almost violent hug.

After doing his interviews on the court, McCarty is escorted to the locker room by Isaac McGlone and sports information director Bob Pristash. He daps up and hugs Delk, and starts to walk into the locker room, before seeing White. The two share a big hug, and as McCarty starts to walk away he turns around, leans forward a bit, and says, “What I tell you? I told you we was gon’ get ‘em.”

As soon as McCarty walks into the locker room, he’s showered with water from re-filled Gatorade bottles. He collects as many of his players as he can in his long arms, and hugs them with all his might. The white-and-blue checkered tile in the locker room is soaked, and it’s dangerous, but it doesn’t matter right now. Nothing matters. Evansville beat Kentucky.

The calm and discipline that led them into the game is long gone.

”We fuckin’ beat Kentucky! We fuckin’ beat Kentucky!”

”I’mma call you back!”

”A bunch, a bunch of notifications.”

”The best thing that happened to me since I come here.”

”I can’t even deal with it right now!”

”Is there a towel back there? Or all they all wet?”

”We’re probably trending No. 1.”

”We’re the No. 1 topic in the country on Twitter.”

”Who puts fuckin’ tile on the goddamn floor?”

McCarty’s first order of business is the press conference. He changes into an all-black team-issued sweatsuit. While he’s addressing the media, he lifts his hand to scratch his face, and the blue gems from his 1996 national championship ring seem to shine in the light with little more color than usual.

McCarty then goes out to greet the Evansville fans who stuck around. One of them waiting for him is Mo. They share a hug, and she agrees to open up the House when everyone gets back to Evansville late that same night.

He greets the others who have waited for him, a mix of Evansville fans and Kentucky fans who wanted to congratulate one of their own. He takes pictures, gives dap, squeezes out hugs, and signs autographs. One fan is standing in the bleachers just yelling, “I LOVE WALTAH!” over and over.

But McCarty’s just getting started with what’s about to be an overwhelming amount of media requests. He heads to the coaches’ locker room with Evansville’s sports information director Bob Pristash and director of media relations Michael Robertson. McCarty is seated in the corner locker, and finally has a chance to look at his phone.

The first person he calls is his wife Erin. Before he gets off the phone with her, he’s led to believe that he’s about to do the first of many national media appearances. Technical difficulties buy him some time, so he makes another quick call, then says to me, “Watch this.”

McCarty dials back a number, the tone rings a few times, and all of a sudden, somebody is yelling, “You bad motherfucker!”

It’s Patrick Ewing.

“Beast! What’s up, baby!?” McCarty replies with joy and laughter.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, boy!” Ewing yells back.

After hanging up with Ewing, McCarty turns his phone to me, showing off his 284 unread text messages. By the time his SportsCenter interview with Stan Verrett is over and he gets on the bus to go back to Evansville, there are 304.

”How stupid is that?” he says with a laugh that’s heavily coated with disbelief, “I really gotta go through that? I don’t even wanna do that!”

When McCarty finally steps onto the bus, and starts an impromptu speech with, “I thought we could do it. I knew we could do it. But when you do it.”

”Guys, we are the No. 1 trend in the world right now,” he continues. “Evansville’s the No. 1 trend right now in the world! Shit’s going crazy right now! Hey, we gotta keep building on this, man. Keep building! I know I say it all the time, we got enough guys. If we just play connected, man, we can do anything.”

Anything seems possible in the unreal moments after the game. On the bus, everybody buries themselves in their phones, absorbed by all the attention being thrown their way.

At one point, Charles Barkley calls to congratulate the team, so McCarty put him on speakerphone and walks towards the middle and back of the bus. Barkley tells them to enjoy the win but to get back to work. Once he gets off the phone, DeAndre Williams cracks, “Can we talk to LeBron now?!”

The coaches spend the rest of the bus ride reflecting, a perhaps-futile attempt to absorb the magnitude of what just happened. “Only time I’ve ever felt like that was when we won it all,” Baumann says, seated behind McCarty at the front of the bus. “That was crazy.”

Seltzer, who is across the aisle from McCarty, pulls up an old photo of himself while he was an assistant at Indiana. His hands are raised, and he’s running towards the court, and you can see a leg with blue and white shorts, socks, and shoes on. The picture was taken when Christian Watford and the Hoosiers sank No. 1 Kentucky in Bloomington in 2011.

Baumann tells McCarty that he just got word of a group of about 200 or 300 students waiting for the team outside the Carson Center, and that a pep rally is going to be held the next day to celebrate.

McCarty is incredulous, but Seltzer replies, “When you do something that’s never been done, you gotta do something that’s never done.”

The team is almost back to Evansville, and by now the bus is mostly quiet. McCarty looks up from his phone and shakes his head, smiling and laughing.

“Did we just do that?” he says. “That’s fucking crazy.”

0 notes

klovenhooves · 7 years

Text

Do You Feel Like A Young God, a Benwash Fanfiction, Chapter One

George loved playing golf in when September turned to October, when the leaves turned red and orange around the country club, and when the breeze was enough to make you shiver in the early morning and late evening. There was a moment, about mid-afternoon, when the sun would shine, the sky would be blue, and the weather was perfect.

He had been a member of the Culper Country Club his whole life, a legacy with automatic admission, and though he had sneered at the idea of a country club when he was a teenager who only cared about playing lacrosse, he was now much older than that. And he happened to like playing golf and squash and having brunch on the terrace.

It was all very opulent, and unnecessary, but he was bored, so terribly bored, and this was one of the only things that helped his boredom.

“Mr. Washington, two p.m. tee time?” Philomena’s voice was soft in the quiet lobby, but she caught his attention all the same. He nodded at her, enough that she could turn on the toe of her pure white sneakers and flounce back to the counter, her plaid golf skirt just a little too high to be coincidental.

“I love the girls they have working here,” George didn’t have to turn to know Benedict Arnold was sitting beside him, his eyes on Philomena as she typed something into the computer. “They’re all leggy, blonde, beautiful.”

“Probably specifically for your reaction,” George pointed out, trying to breathe past the faint smell of bourbon on Arnold’s breath. “Are you ready? Our tee time is in five minutes.”

“Oh, I’m always ready,” Arnold said, puffing out his chest, clad in a slightly too tight green sweater vest. “Ready to lose again, George?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t a competition?” George chuckled, waving one hand at Philomena, who perked up immediately. “It’s just for fun.” Philomena glided into his orbit, sliding him the key to a golf cart. “Thank you, ‘Mena,” he said kindly, sliding a twenty to her. “Put that toward your grad school applications, promise.”

“Of course, Mr. Washington,” she smiled a bright grin that told George she thought he’d forgotten that she mentioned going to graduate school. He loved those moments. Arnold narrowed his eyes at him.

“What the hell was that?” he asked under his breath as Philomena passed him another set of keys for his own golf cart, sans smile. “You trying to get with her?”

“Get with?” George repeated sardonically. “No. I was just…making conversation.”

“Well, when we get on the course, perhaps you can tell me what you know about her so I can also…make conversation,” Arnold nudged him with his elbow, the entendre crystal clear.

“I – I don’t mean to – I don’t think she’s interested in you,” George said gently as they pushed open the clubhouse door to the crisp fall air. “I mean…”

“What?” Arnold asked, casting his eyes about for his usual caddy. “Why wouldn’t she be interested in me?”

George ducked his head. “Well, she’s…she has a girlfriend.”

“Excuse me, sir, are you George Washington?”

A young man with an impressively enchanting pair of blue eyes was standing just behind him, squinting in the sun. He wore the same uniform as all employees of the country club, a pair of khakis and a pale blue polo shirt, brown shoes.

“I am,” George said, as Arnold continued to splutter in disbelief behind him. “And who might you be?”

“Benjamin Tallmadge sir, filling in for your usual caddy, Gilbert, if that’s okay,” he averted his gaze, but whether it was from the sun or he was waiting approval, George couldn’t tell. Either way, he found it much easier to think when Benjamin’s blue eyes weren’t fixed on him.

He extended his hand for the caddy to shake. “It is perfectly fine with me. Have you ever caddied before?” he asked, seeing the way the young man surveyed the bag of clubs with a cautious eye.

“You’re sure she’s a lesbian?” Arnold said behind him.

“Benedict, yes, I’m positive, please,” George waved him off as Ben’s eyes moved over to Arnold in alarm.

“I’ve actually never been…on a golf course before,” Ben said, his gaze coming back to George.

“Never seen…well, I guess I have a lot to teach you, don’t I?” George asked. Ben, who looked horrified at the beginning of George’s sentence, relaxed and released a smile that George returned.

***

“Benjamin, can you pass me the nine iron?” George asked. Ben, holding the golf bag, went wide-eyed for a moment before scrambling for the clubs. “It should be right beside the putter.”

“Come on, Tallmadge, it’s not like you’ve never touched a rod before,” Arnold’s caddy, a man known to George as only Bradford, sneered. Ben, in the act of pulling the nine iron out of the bag, flushed dark red. Arnold snickered.

George gently took the club from his caddy, searching his visage for any sign of distress. Aside from the blush, he looked unmoved. George suppressed an approving smirk.

“Do you know this…Bradford fellow?” he asked as Ben trudged after him, his nerves clearly ruining the experience. Ben glanced up at George for a moment, surprised to hear him speaking. He gave him a single nod. “From…school?”

“We went to college together,” Ben said quietly, trying not to be overheard.

“Oh? What did you study?”

“History.”

George took a moment to look the boy up and down. In his uniform, he didn’t look like a history student, but George could see it. A cardigan, a brown leather bag, and a cup of coffee in his other hand, and Benjamin was on his way to being a young Indiana Jones.

Indiana Jones didn’t study history, but that was irrelevant.

To give himself a moment to think, George turned away from Ben and lined up his next shot. Arnold had a killer slice that always knocked at least one drive out of bounds, but he had distance on George. But George was accurate, strategic.

He swung, satisfied that the ball was going the way he wanted. He turned back to Ben, and caught his eyes staring just a little too low to be looking at where the ball went. He smirked to himself and said nothing instead.

Let the boy stew.

By the time George and Arnold finished with their nine holes, George had shaved two strokes off his last score, and Arnold was satisfied that he won. George could hear him bragging about it in his cart to Bradford as they drove off to the club for lunch.

“Are you going to tell Mr. Arnold that you purposely knocked your ball into the little lake thing?” Ben asked sheepishly, scribbling the final scores on the little card with the tiny pencil.

George raised an eyebrow. “My dear boy, what makes you think I would endure a stoke penalty on purpose?”

“Because Mr. Arnold seems like a sore loser,” Ben said truthfully, shrugging.

“You are correct,” George replied. “But, unfortunately, he works with me, so I am forced to regularly endure his company.”

“I can see how that would be tiring,” Ben said ruefully. George had to turn away to hide his smirk. Once he relaxed, Benjamin was truly one of the wittiest and most entertaining caddies on the course. Most of them mumbled a lot and tripped when spoken to. Others, like Bradford, liked to take on the persona of the golfer they worked for.

George could see his opening now, as clearly as an easy put. He only needed to line up the shot –

“Speaking of tiring, I’m supposed to have lunch with him and his delightful caddy,” George began, leaning just slightly toward Benjamin as he spoke. “I’m sure I can’t convince you to join us, correct, Benjamin?”

“Of course,” Ben replied instantly. “Wait, no? You can convince me? Your question was posed in a very confusing manner, sir.”

“But you will come to lunch with us?” George pressed, holding his smile at bay for confirmation.

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, grinning when George finally smiled.

“You know you don’t have to call me sir all the time, right?” George asked as he turned on the golf cart.

“Of course, sir, but I like it,” Ben replied, studiously keeping his eyes on the path.

“Do you?” George asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Well…duly noted.”

***

Approximately ten minutes into lunch (that was more like dinner at six in the afternoon), George was convinced he’d made a terrible mistake. Ben and Bradford didn’t just know each other from college, they hated each other. And Bradford was the type of man to make any snide comment whenever the opportunity presented itself.

And it was constantly presenting itself.

“So, Mr. Bradford –”

“Please, call me William –”

“William, rather,” George amended himself. “What did you say you studied in school?”

“Political science,” Bradford supplied helpfully. “I had no interest in the past, just the future, isn’t that right, Benny boy?”

“Do not call me that,” Ben said firmly from his side of the table. “Only my friends call me that.”

“Come on, Benny boy, we’re friends, right?” Bradford asked. “I mean, we’ve known each other for years, went to the same school, played on the same squash team. That would make us friends.”

“That would make us acquaintances, Braford. If anything, all of this prolonged contact has only given me more reason to dislike you.”

George turned, surprised to Ben, who was gripping his fork with white-knuckled fury. Arnold, sitting beside Braford, took a hearty swig of what George assumed was more bourbon, and chuckled.

“Bradford told me that you two got into a brawl in the middle of the front lawn at Yale,” he said, lifting his glass as if toasting what was probably a drunken disorderly arrest. “Boys will be boys, right George?”

“Certainly,” he replied flatly, his gaze still on Ben. “So, Benjamin –” he said his name sharply enough to pull the boy’s eyes back to him. “Are you going to graduate school for a master’s degree?”

“Yes, sir, that’s why I got a job here,” Ben admitted. “My classmate, Philomena, she was my reference.”

“Oh, Philomena,” Arnold said suddenly, with a lurching movement that told George that he was getting drunk. “Tell me, Benjamin, is your friend –”

“I’m sure now is not the time to discuss this, Arnold –”

“George, it’s just a question – now, Benjamin, can you tell me if Philomena is…you know…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” George heard the omitted “sir” where it should have been said and had to hide his smirk behind his hand. “Could you explain?”

“You know what I mean, you little upstart,” Arnold was suddenly angry, as he usually was when he started drinking. “Is she a lesbo? A damn queer?”

George searched the younger man’s face for a sign that he was offended, but he gave away nothing in his face. If anything, he straightened up a little at the words.

“You mean, is Philomena gay?” he asked. “Yes, she is. Her girlfriend is actually a member here. You might know her…Margaret Shippen?”

“Peggy Shippen?” Arnold crowed, just loud enough to invite a hush over the room.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” George said sternly, fixing his gaze on Arnold so sharply that the man lowered in his seat. “I have allowed too much without saying anything. Benjamin, I apologize for his behavior,” he turned to Ben, who was still staring at Arnold, his eyes occasionally darting to Bradford, daring him to say something. “Why don’t you allow me to take you home?”

“That’s not necessary,” Ben said, dropping his napkin onto his plate as he stood, the food completely untouched.

“I insist,” George said, following suit. Ben regarded him for a moment sternly before nodding. He allowed George to lead him to the front of the club restaurant, the onlookers finally going back to their meals. “Why don’t you go get your things, I need to speak with Philomena.”

“Of course, sir.”

Philomena had changed from her clubhouse outfit into a sensible black evening dress in her shift from clubhouse cashier to hostess. She grinned when she saw George approaching.

“Mr. Washington,” she said graciously. “What can I do for you?”

He was suddenly irrationally angry at Arnold’s behavior all over again now that he was seeing her kind face. “My caddy, Benjamin Tallmadge, said you were his friend.”

“We are friends, sir, yes,” she said.

“Well, he’s had a rather unsettling afternoon, so I’m going to drive him home,” George explained. “Is there any way you can get one of the chefs to make my usual and box it up for him?”

Philomena nodded. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem, sir.”

“Thank you, ‘Mena,” he replied.

By the time Ben returned, changed into his normal clothes and carrying a bag over his shoulder, George was holding a bag of food in his hand and his keys in the other. He was only slightly disappointed to find that his fantasy of Ben dressed like a young Harrison Ford was slightly incorrect. He did still carry the brown bag over his shoulder, but he was dressed in dark wash denim jeans and a faded and worn Antiques Roadshow shirt.

George passed him the bag of food wordlessly and led the way to his car, waiting for Ben to speak. Ben had to deal with the more trying night, so he deserved silence or conversation if he sought it.

Finally, when the doors closed, George could no longer help himself.

“Antiques Roadshow?” he asked.

“Did you buy me food?” Ben shot back, and George was, for a moment, hard pressed to identify his tone. Was he angry? Was he surprised? He couldn’t tell.

“Well, you were so upset you didn’t get to eat,” George explained. “It’s nothing special, just a grilled cheese with truffle oil and some fries. It’s what I eat when I’m upset.”

Ben peeked into the bag experimentally and stuck his hand in, pulling out a fry. He chewed pensively, George still waiting to see if he was upset or not. Finally, after a prolonged silence that made George feel increasingly insecure, he passed the bag over. “Want a fry?”

“Want to tell me about Antiques Roadshow?” George asked instead, pulling out a fry and chewing.

“My grandmother had tons of antiques,” Ben said as George put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. “I liked to just go up into her attic and read where my brothers wouldn’t bother me, and so I kind of just got used to seeing them. Antiques Roadshow has some cool stuff on it.”

There was a challenging tone to his voice that George should have expected. He spent all day being teased by an old rival, and here he was, asking him questions about something he liked with a grin on his face like he was looking for an opening.

“Okay, since you’re telling me things about yourself, how about I tell you one about me?” he offered as Ben pointed to the right, indicating he needed to turn.

“I love reading James Patterson mystery novels,” he said in a rush. “I mean, not even just Patterson. Whichever trashy, cliché, predictable mystery novel there is, I read it. I have shelves full of them.”

Ben chuckled, another fry sticking halfway out of his mouth. “Not embarrassing enough.”

“Fine,” he said with a huff. “I have the bartenders pour apple juice into my glasses instead of scotch because I hate it but everyone I know drinks it,” he said. “How’s that?”

Ben was already laughing so hard he couldn’t answer the question. In his laughter, his free hand that wasn’t holding the bag of food landed on George’s arm, resting between them. He left it there, and George decided he was going to have to say far more embarrassing things if this was how he could get Benjamin to touch him.

“That is both embarrassing and kind of adorable,” Ben finally acknowledged. “Far more embarrassing than I asked for.”

“Looks like you’re going to have to make up the difference,” George pointed out. “Go ahead, embarrass yourself.”

They had pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex near the university. Ben squinted out the window toward the second floor.

“How’s this,” he said, his hand on George’s arm tightening for just a moment. “How about I thank you for this food and your patience with my terrible caddy skills –”

“You weren’t terrible –”

“Yes I was,” Ben insisted. “And you stood up for me at dinner. Why don’t I repay you by inviting you upstairs?”

George was about to say no, about to tell Ben that he was an old man, far too old for spontaneous one night stands with young men he’d just met, far too old and traditional for something like this, but Ben’s hand was on his arm again, sliding up to his bicep, to his shoulder, to his neck, where he traced the smooth edge of George’s jaw, his eyes that perfect shade of blue that mesmerized George the moment he saw him.

“Now, are you doing this because you think I need to be repaid, or because you want to?” George asked, swallowing thickly around the tantalizing feel of Ben’s fingers as they traced the column of his throat.

“The repayment was just a ruse, sir,” Ben said like it was a secret. “Come upstairs and help me forget that disastrous dinner ever happened.”

“Your wish is my command, my dear boy.”

#benwash #philomena/peggy #golf au

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ikagrp · 8 years

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Welcome Bru! You’ve been accepted as your first choice of Brie Larson as Rosemary Hames. Please send in your account within the next 24 hours. Also, please follow these tags: ikag starter , Ikag social, ikaghh , ikag important , ikag task , ikagfollow , ikagunfollow and ikag event.

NAME (AND PRONOUNS) /AGE/TIMEZONE:

hi bbs !! it’s bru (they/them) and i am 25, and i live in the east timezone

ACTIVITY

i guess like once or twice every other day !!

RP EXPERIENCE

a thousand years !!

WHO IS THE CHARACTER?

NAME: ROSEMARY HAMES

AGE: 32

LOCATION: NOVA SCOTIA, CANADA

FACECLAIM: BRIE LARSON

BIRTHDAYS: FEBUARY 29th, 1985

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: ALCOHOLISM, ADULTERY, DEATH, MISCARRIAGE, VIOLENCE

DR. ROSEMARY HAMES WAS BORN TO ENGLISH PARENTS IN CANADA WHILE THEY WERE ON A SABBATICAL. But once they had her, they decided to make the small province their home base. So, Rosemary spent most of the year in Canada, and then summers in England. Since she was an only child, she was very close to her parents, usually assisting them with her work as she got older. Both of her parents were researchers for National Geographic, and studied primal things such as animals and plants. Needless to say, she was born with a great head on her shoulders. Ever since she was a child, her head was filled with knowledge of the vast world, her eyes roaming book after book.

HER PARENTS WORK TOOK THEM TO A LOT OF NEW PLACES, AND THEY WEREN’T SHY ABOUT BRINGING THEIR CHILD. They knew she was smart and would follow all the rules that would entail accompanying them on these dangerous missions. It wasn’t until she was in ninth grade when they decided to stop. Apparently someone had called the child protective agency and told them all about her little shenanigans. After that, she stayed with her aunt and uncle whilst her parents jetted off, exploring all around the world. She was proud of her parents, but a little upset. That meant less time with them, and because she couldn’t go with them, she didn’t seem them a whole lot. She felt a small sense of abandonment but she understood why they did what they did.

BEING IN ONE PLACE WAS ODD FOR ROSEMARY. She had to get used to actually making friends and trying to get involved with school stuff. While she daydreamed about boating down the Amazon like Indiana Jones, she had to first past chemistry. Since she technically skipped the first two years of high school, her parents homeschooling her and then taking a test to prove she was sufficient in those areas. She then lived in England the “last” two years of her high school career and went to a small private school in London. There, she was the top of her class in science/math courses, and head of the debate team. She was active in photography club, but was no where near popular. She was still the nerd everyone copied their homework off of.

GRADUATING WHEN SHE WAS JUST 16, AFTER HIGH SCHOOL, SHE STUDIED AT CAMBRIDGE, CHOOSING TO MAJOR IN ARCHAEOLOGY STUDIES. That is when her whole life changed. When she was nineteen, and finishing up her last year of college/applying for grad schools, she met a girl. Persephone Willows. She was the type of girl the greats wrote poetry about. She was an art history major who caught Rosemary’s heart. Everything about her was wild and beautiful, like an elusive dream. They quickly fell in love and not long after their year anniversary, they got married. It was a hasty decision, one not entirely made sober, but Rosemary thought she had found the one. When she brought the girl home to her parents, they weren’t surprised it was a girl, but that they got married. Especially at 20; they thought she should be focusing on her studies, and her studies only. But she didn’t care, she loved the girl and that was enough for her. They were together for five blissful years, but soon Rosemary’s travels got in the way. It was no ones fault, they both still loved each other. But life had taken it’s toll, and they wanted different things. Soon, Persephone went to go live in Italy to be closer to her work. There, the loneliness caught up with the painter and she cheated on Rosemary, soon leading to her pregnancy. At first Rosemary was supportive — she was hurt yes, but she always wanted a family and Persephone made it clear it was only a one night stand. She wanted them to be a family and Rosemary was naive enough to believe they could be one. Their marriage was already on the breaking point and they were silly to think that a child would fix it. So Rosemary put her studies on hold to move to Italy to be close to her wife. Not long after, her wife lost the baby and that was the final straw.

THAT WINTER WAS THEIR TIME OF DOWNFALL. Rome had fallen and all that was left was shambles. Soon, Rosemary moved back to England to be close with her parents and they got a quick divorce. Rosemary was heartbroken, soon wallowing in self-pity and bottles of bourbon. After that, she resumed her studies and went to secret AA meetings. She told her parents she was fine on her own, but in truth, she was still hung up on the girl.

THROWING HERSELF BACK INTO HER WORK. Rosemary graduated when she was just 30 with a PhD in her field. Her parents couldn’t be more proud and when she was old enough, she joined them again. Since she was a child, she took photos of every single place she had been. She wanted to document them throughly so she could always come back to them, and recall the fond memories. She also picked up four languages, her brain craving, no requiring the knowledge. The Archeologist had been all over the world, but right out of grad school she was recruited on a team that worked for the Natural History Museum in London. They were to research a dying tribe in Africa. There she saw things, things no one should ever see. Apparently what her employers neglected to tell her was that she was going into a war zone, one ridden with diseases and killers. The violence, the death and the bloodshed that occurred had given Rosemary nightmares for months. The team barely escaped with their lives, and not all of them made it. When it was all said and done, five out of twelve members were left. Rosemary was a lucky one, and she documented their studies well with her camera. But she, along with the rest of her team vowed to never tell what really happened down there. So she burned the photos, all except the negatives. Perhaps it was some sick joke to keep them, something to keep her mind from dying. After that, she relapsed into a spiral of alcoholism and covered the pain. She came back to England and worked for the museum again, this time doing more lab work.

SETTLING IN LONDON, ROSEMARY DECIDED TO LIVE A QUIET LIFE, ONE IN MERE SOLITUDE. She had a small group of friends, but mostly focused on her work. She’s had a lot of experience for a girl her age. Soon, rumors started to speculate that one of her old colleagues from the Mission X, as they liked to call it was going to write a tell all book unless the museum paid him a large sum of money. Trying to talk her friend out of it, she saw it was no more than a case of PTSD that grabbed a hold of him. In a way, he thought money could cure his madness. His silent shadow frightened Rosemary and she secretly pledged to never turn out like that. A monster. Knowledge is power, but with power comes with destruction. And she was no monster. Or was she?

PARA SAMPLE

second time is the charm !!

ANYTHING ELSE

hi lovelies !! i am super excited to be here <3

#ikagaccepted #submission

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mikemortgage · 6 years

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Trump’s tariffs put GOP candidates in a bind in rural areas

SPANGLE, Wash. — In the aptly named Harvester Restaurant, wheat farmer Roy Dube makes clear he’s no fan of President Donald Trump’s trade policy.

“We get him elected into office and he pulls us out of trade agreements,” Dube said last week as local farmers gathered to hear Democratic House candidate Lisa Brown.

Dube says China is buying less wheat from eastern Washington farmers and Trump’s policies have opened the door for Australia and Canada to wrestle away business. His frustration extends to his congressional representative, Rep. Cathy McMorris Rodgers, who is the highest-ranking Republican woman in the House and running for an eighth term.

“I’m concerned that Cathy McMorris Rodgers didn’t put up more resistance,” Dube said.

The U.S. tariffs on agriculture products, sown by Trump, have grown into an election-year threat to Republicans in rural districts that are heavily reliant on exports for their economy. With the livelihoods of farmers at risk, opposition to the tariffs could make a difference in some races and help determine which party takes control of Congress.

McMorris Rodgers has made it clear she opposes the president’s actions on tariffs, but so far, the Republican-controlled House has not taken up legislation to block them. Democrats characterize GOP lawmakers as unable or unwilling to check Trump, who has declared that “tariffs are the greatest.”

“My opponent, though she would say she’s concerned and talking to the administration about these issues, she’s still mostly a cheerleader for the president,” said Brown, a former state legislator.

Facing what appears to be the tightest re-election race of her career, McMorris Rodgers is emphasizing that she has encouraged the president to “move from tariffs to agreement.”

“I have made it very clear that I don’t support the across-the-board tariffs, that we should take a more targeted approach,” McMorris Rodgers told The Associated Press.

Clues that the president’s trade policies will play a role in the November midterm elections can be seen in Agriculture Secretary Sonny Perdue’s travel schedule. Over the past few months, he’s been to Eastern Washington to join McMorris Rodgers in meeting with farmers. He’s also been to California’s Central Valley to meet with farmers in the districts of Republican Reps. Jeff Denham and David Valadao. He also went to Iowa, where Republican Reps. David Young and Rod Blum are both in close races.

The battle for the Senate could also be affected by the tariff issue, particularly in North Dakota, Indiana and Missouri, where Republicans hope to knock off three Democratic incumbents.

The president has tried to allay farmers’ concerns with an aid package of up to $12 billion to help them weather the trade war.

J. Read Smith, a rancher near St. John, Washington, said he shares Trump’s goal of seeking a level playing field in trade.

“But antagonizing our trading partners is not the way to do it,” said Smith, who emphasized that he is not a Democrat. “I’m an American.”

Aaron Flansburg, who runs a diversified farm near Pullman, Washington, said he’s skeptical the tariffs will change the way most farmers vote, though.

“Farmers often vote for Republicans,” Flansburg said. “Whether that will change, I have my doubts.”

McMorris Rodgers said it’s her sense that voters are willing to give the president time to negotiate better agreements.

“Yes, there’s a lot of uncertainty. There’s a sense that we need to get these trade agreements into place as soon as possible, but there’s also a recognition that for too long America has not taken action, especially against China,” she said.

The United States is scheduled to slap tariffs on $200 billion in Chinese imports Monday, adding to the more than $50 billion worth that already face U.S. import taxes.

China retaliated with its own tariffs on U.S. products. The world’s two biggest economies are clashing over allegations that China steals technology from American companies.

The Trump administration also imposed a 25 per cent tariff on imported steel and a 10 per cent tariff on imported aluminum that included imports from the European Union, Canada and Mexico — and just about everyone else — in the name of national security.

Those tariffs also drew retaliation. For example, the EU targeted bourbon, a key industry in Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell’s home state of Kentucky, where Republican Rep. Andy Barr and Democratic challenger Amy McGrath are battling in a close election.

Overall, about 6 in 10 Americans disapprove of how the president is handling trade negotiations with other countries.

Farm groups have testified in congressional hearings that retaliatory tariffs increase the cost of their products for customers abroad, giving foreign competitors an edge.

“The current tariffs, continuing back-and-forth retaliatory actions and trade uncertainties are hitting American agriculture from all sides and are causing us to lose our markets. Once you lose a market, it is really tough to get it back,” said Kevin Paap, president of the Minnesota Farm Bureau.

Rep. Ben Ray Lujan, who is overseeing Democratic efforts in House races, pointed to Iowa as a state where he believes the administration’s tariffs could backfire. He said primary turnout was up, in part because small family farmers and the businesses they buy from are worried. “I really believe that in those districts, you’ll see people come forward and hold everyone accountable not standing up for them,” Lujan said.

GOP lawmakers from Iowa, including Young and Blum, signed onto a letter calling on the president to act quickly to save rural economies. Blum also wrote Trump separately urging him to “consider the consequences tariffs have on American manufacturers.”

When the president visited Blum’s district a few days later, he thanked him for his “political courage” on trade.

“You’ve taken some heat for it in the short term, but in the long run, the farmers, the manufacturers, the employers are all going to be better off,” Blum told the president.

His Democratic challenger, Abby Finkenauer, has seized on that thank you.

“There is no way he should stand there and thank the administration for throwing the livelihoods of Iowans in flux,” Finkenauer said.

Republicans are putting their faith in the economy.

Rep. Tom Cole of Oklahoma said that he personally views tariffs as damaging in the long term but that it’s not an issue that constituents bring up.

“As long as the economy overall is doing well, it’s hard to see losing on tariff issues,” Cole said.

——

Freking reported from Washington. Associated Press writer Juana Summers in Washington contributed to this report.

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Trump’s tariffs could sow trouble for GOP in farm districts