#ian chandler

[fabledenigma]

In the Source Link, you will find a gif pack of Shane Harper in the short lived MTV tv show Happyland (2014).

Shane played the role of Ian Chandler, the younger brother of Theodore Chandler. A few secrets come out over the course of the short eight episodes.

Source - FabledEnigma

[person4924]

oh look it’s me always choosing the gay, neurodivergent, mentally ill guy in a show that had a traumatic childhood as my favorite character

[anakinsvoid]

Sarcastic boys are my favorite genre 🫶🏻

[chauchau64]

i cannot stop

[maybeimamuppet]

1 and 14 with cadnis and 2 with Chansaw for the drabble ask <3

hello dear ty for the ask!!

1 cadnis “come over here and make me”

“Aaron has been broken up with Regina for a month, why hasn’t he asked me out yet?” Cady whines, leaning fluidly over Damian’s shoulders with a groan. He reaches up and gives her a placating pat.

“I don’t know, but I wish you’d keep talking about it,” he says.

At the exact same time, Janis grumbles, “God, shut up about Aaron already!”

Cady is in the middle of sticking her tongue out at Damian when she processes what Janis said. “Why don’t you come over here and make me then?”

Janis raises an eyebrow at her. Cady shivers at the look in her eye. Before she knows it, Janis is stalking across the room, grabbing her face, and pulling Cady’s lips to hers. Cady feels her jaw drop and blinks her wide eyes a few times when Janis pulls back with a smirk. “Happy?”

Cady’s only response is to grab her by the waist and pull her back. Suddenly, Aaron is so far away. Who needs him? Holy shit, she’s a good kisser.

“Okay, ew,” Damian whimpers. Cady breaks away from the kiss to see him covering his eyes like a child seeing a naughty scene in a movie. Janis doesn’t bother and pulls Cady’s hips flush against her.

“Forget about Aaron,” she murmurs. “Stick with us.”

Cady nods eagerly. “Okay.”

Janis smirks again and leans in for a much more chaste kiss. “Good. Glad that’s handled.”

“Yeah. Good,” Cady breathes. She can almost feel her pupils dilating as she looks at Janis so close.

“Wanna come over after school? We can do that again in our own company,” Janis hums, jerking her head briefly in Damian’s direction. Cady nods. “Tits.”

“T…tits.”

“Yes!”

14 cadnis “hey, i’m with you, okay? always.”

tw for death mention

Cady jerks awake with her girlfriend, who bolts upright next to her with a shriek and bursts into tears. Cady slowly sits up and leans in to rub her back and rest her head on Janis’ shoulder. “Babe, what happened?”

“Stupid-stupid nightmare,” Janis replies in between heaving gasps for breath. Cady rubs her back a little more firmly.

“Deep breaths,” she murmurs. “It’s okay now, I got you. I promise.”

Janis’ sobs only grow heavier at the words, and she suddenly lunges to grab onto her. Cady grunts as her girlfriend is suddenly in her lap, but she squeezes her close and rubs her back as Janis tucks her head against her stomach and throws her arms around her waist.

“Shh, Jellybean, what is it?” she whispers.

“It was you,” Janis chokes, muffled into her own oversized shirt Cady stole to wear in lieu of pajamas.

“What was me?”

“The bus,” Janis sobs, clinging even harder to Cady, like she’s the only thing stopping her from slipping back into that awful nightmare world. “I was- I was on everyone’s shoulder’s agai-again and the bus just-just plowed into you! And-and I couldn’t get-get down! I couldn’t sa-save you, I just had-had to watch you bleed ou-out and die alone in-in the road! And I-I never told you I-I lo-love you.”

“Oh, baby,” Cady gasps. She pulls Janis up higher to hold her properly. Janis straddles her lap in such a way that Cady’s toes almost immediately go numb, but she’s sobbing so hard into Cady’s shoulder that she doesn’t even notice. “Shh, honey, that was just a dream.”

“But it almost wasn’t,” Janis wails quietly. “You-you were close too.”

“I was,” Cady admits, rubbing circles into Janis’ lower back. “And now I know not to stand near the road, especially when I’m in the middle of an argument. But it wasn’t me, baby, I’m perfectly healthy. I know you love me, and you know I love you. I’m right here with you, okay? Always. I promise.”

“You-you can’t promise that,” Janis hiccups.

“I can. I do everything I can to make sure I get to meet up with you the next time we see each other. I keep myself safe as much as I can,” Cady murmurs. “And even if something happens that we can’t control, heaven forbid, you’re not getting rid of me that easy. Best believe I’m haunting your cute ass.”

Janis chokes out a strange noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Cady echoes. “I love you so much.”

Janis sniffles and takes some deep breaths, letting Cady’s comforting words sink in. Eventually, she stops heaving sobs so heavy Cady’s part-worried she’ll actually heave, and Cady stops feeling her hot tears soaking into her shirt.

She gently pulls Janis’ face out of the crook of her neck and cups her cheeks, gently swiping her thumbs over them to rub away the tears. Janis sniffles again in a particularly cute way. Cady kisses her nose ever so gently.

“Come on, you need more sleep,” she whispers. Janis gets a panicked glint in her eye at the mere idea, but she looks at Cady with some interest as she lies down and pats herself. “At least try, come on.”

Janis hesitantly follows her back down and rests her head on Cady’s chest, right beneath her sternum.

“Listen to my heart,” Cady whispers. “You have it forever.”

She twists Janis’ hair together as their breathing slips naturally into the same, steady rhythm. Janis drifts off with a content smile on her face, and Cady follows when she sees it, and knows the universe is at peace once again.

2 chansaw “have you lost your damn mind?”

Heather sighs as she unlocks her front door. Her day has been so exhausting it takes a few tries, the key fumbling around the lock before finally slipping in and allowing her entry to her haven.

A tiny puppy running up to her was not even in the footnotes of her ideas of what she’d find inside. She tilts her head at the little thing sitting in front of her, its tail thumping against the ground the whole way.

“Veronica?” Heather calls, bemused. A head pops out at the other end of the hallway. Heather can see her face fall when she spots the dog and realizes she’s been busted.

“Hey, babe,” she greets without missing a beat. “How was work?”

“Where did the dog come from?” Heather replies before Veronica can even finish her sentence. Veronica deflates a little.

“I found her outside. She’s been abandoned,” she mumbles.

“Have you lost your damn mind? Why would you bring her home?!” Heather replies. She’s never been much of a dog person.

“She’s so cute! And she’s already housebroken. I think,” Veronica replies, scooping up the little dog and holding it at arm’s length as it scrambles to give her kisses.

“Muffin, you know I don’t like dogs,” Heather chides gently.

“But maybe you’ll like this one,” Veronica responds, her eyes brightening with hope. Heather sighs and looks at the little puppy she has held out like a sack of potatoes. It’s little legs dangle beneath her, but if the still-wagging tail is anything to go by, she doesn’t mind. “Look, she followed me home, I couldn’t resist.”

Heather looks closer at the dog. It is awfully cute. And clearly friendly. And if Veronica says she’s at least mostly housebroken, all of Heather’s furniture should be fine. Right?

Heather pinches the bridge of her nose. “Listen.”

Veronica nods eagerly, holding the dog against her shoulder and squealing as it licks her ear.

“You’re making sure she’s housebroken. Until then she stays in the sun room,” Heather begins. Veronica nods again. “And you’re responsible for buying her toys and making sure she doesn’t ruin our furniture.” Another nod. “And I am not picking up dog shit.”

“Okay,” Veronica replies immediately. “Can we keep her?”

“Yes, pillowcase, we can keep her,” Heather sighs. “What’d you name her?”

“Cherry,” Veronica mumbles shyly. Heather grins and carefully scritches the dog’s little head.

“Well then, welcome to the family, Cherry.”

[clay-the-pot]

@flavortowned who is this handsome young lad???

[mono-socke]

opening requests again, because I am bored

any character, or ship (or prompt if you have one) is okay and welcomed !!

that does include crossovers (and maybe aus). fandoms are in the tags

[that-thing-on-your-shoe]

About me

I’m just a high schooler w/ too much time to obsess over musicals.

Well, that’s not true. I don’t have nearly enough time, and there’s a million shows I haven’t seen, but just you wait!

I’m trying to get good at drawing so you might occasionally see some of that!

My favs are

Heathers

Mean girls

Ride the cyclone

Natasha Pierre an the Great Comet of 1812

Be more chill

Dear Evan Hansen

Beetlejuice

Six

Rent

Don’t ask me my favorite I love them all equally

Barrett Wilbert weed

My zodiac sign is Taurus though I don’t really care about that stuff (but a lot of people put it in there bio so I thought I would)

My personality type (way better than zodiac if you ask me) is ENFP

My dream roles are

Veronica Sawyer

Janis Sarkisian

Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg 

Sonya

The Squip

Zoe Murphy (although I’m more like Evan)

Lydia

Anne Boleyn

Mark Cohen

These are also the characters that match my personality the most! Especially the first three.

I love acting but I’m too much of a realist to pursue it so other than that I wanna be an engineer.

I wanna go to either Cal Berkeley or Michigan University!

I want to major in mechanical engineering and minor in theatre.

I’m a Slytherin🐍

My favorite things to text (if you know you know)

iitamcdtcoysihmhtvi

tgtf (not ‘tgif’)

wtwniplm

🙂💄🐾!

Flecked

dehwbwtootthbcaistwdttmbistytitoyenirmnasmwd

 Democracy rocks! 



[book-place]

Some of my many favorite couples in fiction

[dollythesheepp]

Endless Forms Most Beautiful, chapter 8.

You can read it on ao3 here:https://archiveofourown.org/works/39467289/chapters/98779098

The house is pitch black. The only source of light comes from the bathroom on the first floor, the brightness escaping from the gap under the door and illuminating the corridor. The owners don't know she is there, they don't even know who she is; she doesn't know who they are either, she just picked the prettiest house and let herself in. She grabs the needle with one trembling hand, the other one gripping the bathroom countertop to steady herself, her bloody fingers painting the pristinely white marble.

Blood, blood, blood. It's everywhere. On her wound, on her shirt, it drips on the floor like vermillion tears. Veronica won't bleed when she dies. The others didn't either —the dark red that flowed out of them, streaming out of their heads, or their chests, staining her knife and her hands, was just their sins trying to escape before their bodies gave out —but she does, she bleeds, she's real.

"I'm not Veronica...I'm not Veronica...Not Veronica..." she mumbles as she passes the needle through her torn skin, the pain burning her entire abdomen like fire. That copy, the one who stuck the metal bar on her stomach, the one who dresses like Veronica, drives her car, sleeps on her bed...Andriy didn't warn her about another one.

It doesn't matter, soon she will be dead too.

***

When Heather called her at 5 a.m. saying that the police knew the killer's latest pit stop, Janis expected it to be an abandoned house or something equally fitting for a psycho murderer; she didn't expect the address to match a beautiful craftsman-style house on a nice street just a few blocks away from Lawndale, the neighborhood where Janis and Heather got attacked.

Janis stays seated on the car's leather seat as she stares at the house, already filled with police officers coming in and out through the front door. A sudden knock on the car window makes her jump out of her seat.

"Sorry,"  Heather apologizes as Janis steps out of the car. "I'm jumpy too."

"How's your head?" Janis asks and Chandler lifts her shoulders in a shrug. Even after being attacked the day before, Heather still manages to look flawless, with nice clothes, high heels, and a full face of makeup and she is wearing her ginger hair down, probably in an attempt to hide the ugly white bandage still taped on her neck; Janis on the other hand barely had the energy to brush her hair this morning.

"Probably as bad as yours," Chandler answers as they walk towards the house. Despite the different scenery, the situation reminds Janis of the gravel quarry, with all the cops running around. In the living room, a woman in her thirties, who doesn't look like part of the staff, is talking to one of the police officers who write down everything she's saying; she looks like she is trying to hold back her tears.

"I slept through the whole thing. Trevor came into my room wet with blood," Janis hears the woman saying, voice shaking as much as the rest of her body. "He said it was an angry angel."

Heather walks in the direction of another man, one Janis recognizes from the station, his name is Peter Dawson, another detective. "Good morning, ladies," he greets them with too much energy for seven in the morning.

"What do have here?" Janis asks, trying to mimic the dialogues she's heard from crime shows and Heather, the only two sources of information she has.

"We didn't get him, but we do have a witness," Peter says. "And we also don't have any prints, but our guy wasn't exactly covering his tracks. Take a look."

Peter leads the two women toward the bathroom, where two other police officers are busy taking pictures of every inch of the room. Janis understands what Peter meant by 'not exactly covering his tracks when she sees the look of the bathroom, which looked like a murder scene, with dried blood spread like paint everywhere; on the counter and the floor, there is a pair of bloodied scissors and an open package of gauze. Suddenly, Janis feels her breakfast trying to crawl its way back toward her mouth.

"Self-surgery?" Heather muses over with scrunched eyebrows.

"Looks like it," Peter nods his head.

"The witness is ready," the man who was previously talking to the woman tells them. Chandler looks at Janis and gestures with her head for her to follow. When they get back to the living room, a little boy, no older than six, is seated on the couch; he is still in his pajamas —a black and red spiderman set— and a cozy bathrobe, and just like the woman, who Janis presumes to be his mom, he also looks like he's about to cry.

"He's the witness?" Janis asks Peter, who nods yes with his head. Janis tugs slightly at Chandler's red blazer to get her attention. "Do you mind dealing with this?" she asks. To her relief, Heather agrees and goes towards the little boy —Trevor— alone, all the while Janis does her best to keep her face out of the boy's sight, moving to a corner and using her hair to hide herself, in case he recognizes the killer. Heather spends a couple of minutes talking to the kid, who answers her questions with a nod of his head, either yes or no, that is until he uses his little index finger to point at Janis. Heather follows his gaze to look at her, a puzzled expression on her face; in the same instant, Janis starts going in their direction.

"The person in your bathroom was a woman?" Janis hears Heather asking as she gets closer and the little boy confirms with his head once again.

Janis puts a hand on Heather's shoulder. "Can I talk to him?" she asks, Chandler nods and steps away to give the two of them space. Janis mimics Heather and kneels to meet the boy's eyes. Janis has never been a fan of kids, she's never been around them enough to find them cute or amusing, but this little boy looks so fragile with his big and teary blue eyes that she finds in herself the want to give him a hug and reassure him everything will be okay, even if she's not sure of it herself.

"She told me you would come," he whispers. He speaks with a slow and drowsy voice like he's not used to being awake at such an early hour; granted, he probably didn't get much sleep after being scared like that.

"The angry angel?" Janis asks in a gentle voice.

"Yes," he responds, then takes something out of his bathrobe pocket. It's a paper fortune teller, like the ones Janis used to play with at school. "Pick a color."

"Black," Janis answers.

"B, L, A, C, K," with each letter, he opens and closes the flaps of the origami. "Now pick one," he tells her as he shows her the new paper petals that appear, on each one there is a small drawing of a stick figure, and on every one of those, a part of the stick person —their head, their torso, their legs— is covered in red. Blood red.

"Can I take a look at this?" Janis asks him, and he hands her the game without question. Janis unfolds the paper to see the inside of it smeared with dry blood. The commotion catches Heather's attention because in just a second she is standing next to Janis again.

"What is this?" Chandler asks.

"A souvenir."

***

Back at the station, Heather, Janis and the rest of the team in charge of the investigation gather around all of the information that they already have.

"According to our witness, Jane Doe's killer is female, with brown hair and brown eyes, and about Veronica's size," Chandler says.

"As for Jane Doe, it isn't easy to reconstruct a body that went through a gravel crusher, but we do have a cause of death, a 223 caliber," McCord, the coroner investigator, continues. He takes out of the many files spattered around the room a photograph of Edith Becker's skull —the hole on her forehead very apparent— and clips it to the board with the other pictures of the case.

"What's the profile?" Lieutenant Gowan asks his team.

"Female killers tend to suffer from chronic detachments " Detective Dawson speaks up this time. "And it's fascinating how careful she is, no prints on any of this so far.

"And the DNA evidence?" Gowan insists.

"We're still weeks away from seeing if it matches anyone on file," McCord explains.

"Sawyer, there's a call for you," a man taps Janis on the shoulder and says, so Janis excuses herself from the meeting and goes in the direction of her desk; on her way, she passes by Kurt Kelly, the clumsy IT guy who got coffee all over her clothes the other day.

"Woah, nice change!" he says eyeing her up and down.

"What?" Janis blinks in confusion.

"Your look. It's way better than earlier this morning," he tries to explain but Janis remains clueless as to what he's talking about so she simply thanks him and continues her way toward Veronica's desk.

"Detective Sawyer," she says when she picks up the phone.

"No, you're not," the voice that responds sends shivers down Janis's spine. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"Are you sad you didn't get to do that yourself?" Janis says. The killer chuckles before responding.

"I need to know who you are," she says with her heavy accent, one that Janis presumes to be from somewhere in Europe based on the way she rolls her R's, and her T's come out heavily at the end of the words. "I never got your name."

"I never got yours," Janis says back.

"Deborah," the clone killer answers. "You're doing police work but how long will that last when the real police find me?"

"That would be bad for the both of us."

"You're me, I'm you. We are both the victim and the cop," Deborah says. "So come meet me, if you don't want to get in trouble. I already gave you directions."

All Janis hears after that is the drawn-out dial noise at the end of the call. Janis is left staring at the phone, her eyes wide open and a nauseating feeling roiling inside of her. What does she mean by directions?

Janis swallows down the lump in her throat and runs her eyes over her desk. She would not be a good detective in real life because it takes her that long to notice how different her desk looks from the night before. The computer isn't centered anymore, her pens are scattered on the table, the KitKat bar she had gotten at the vending machine this morning but hadn't had the time to eat yet was open and had a big bite taken out of it, and the picture of Veronica and JD on the corner of the desk had JD's face scratched out with a black marker, and none of those things were her doing. She had been there...

Janis spends minutes fossicking around the desk for a hidden message from Deborah, she flips through all of the documents and files scattered on the table, until she encounters Dawn Schweitzer's case again, like a haunted object following her everywhere she goes; she looks through the photos again and this time one thing catches her attention, something she hadn't noticed before. Dawn had a winged fish tattoed on her forearm, one exactly like the fish carved on the killer's knife. Without much thought, she flips the photo to look at the back; on it, written in black, bulky letters is an address.

***

"Wait, show me the photo again," Cady asks. Janis obeys and puts the photograph of Dawn Schweitzer's tattoo in front of her cellphone so Cady can take another look. She stares at the phone intently, biting her lips with an intrigued look on her face.

"It can't be a coincidence, right?" Janis asks her.

"No, I don't think so," Cady presses her lips.

Janis runs her forehead, the headache she had since this morning  —probably from being toppled to the ground the night before— is getting stronger and harder to ignore. "So the clone killer and the woman Veronica shot are connected..."

"Looks like it," Cady agrees. "So Veronica probably killed her on purpose."

Janis leans her head on the seat of Veronica's car —the only place where she found some privacy to call Cady, she couldn't exactly discuss her clones in front of other people— and breathes in through her mouth in an attempt to calm down her nerves.

"I did some research on the winged fish ever since you showed me the knife yesterday," Cady says. After Janis got home the night before, she showed the blade to Lizzie and Cady to see if they recognized it, but neither of them had any answers. "Apparently it's some Christian symbol of fecundity from way back. And carved into a weapon...it could mean a personal crusade maybe?"

"God, is that all?"

"And now that we're seeing this branded on Dawn Schweitzer I'm starting to think this Deborah is not a lone warrior," Cady continues with her pondering. "To extreme creationists, you and your sisters would be considered abominations. Not God's children."

"Wow, thanks."

"Sorry."

"So they hate us and she is killing us even though she's one of us?"

"Well, if you were a messed up loner whose faith compelled you to belong and someone that you trusted told you that this was a way for you to redeem yourself in the eyes of God..."

"Then I guess I would have turned into an angry angel too..." Janis mumbles. Cady furrows her brows but doesn't question her. "I know I said I would try but I don't think I can keep doing this. She was here, Cady."

"Seriously?" Cady gasps.

"Yes, she pretended to be Veronica while I was away and now she's threatening to get us both busted if I don't meet up with her."

"Janis, that is not a good idea," Cady says. And Janis, just like any other sane person, knows that she is right. This is a terrible idea. It's almost laughable to think about how weeks ago Janis was so steadfast about not getting involved but now everything she does gets her further and further into the rabbit hole.

"I don't think I have another choice."

***

The address takes her to an apartment complex, the building is small and it looks mostly vacant and thrown to the winds, it reminds Janis of the crappy apartment she used to share with Caitlyin. To Janis's luck —or maybe to her misfortune, that is yet to be decided— there is no doorman in sight and the front door is open. She makes her way toward the second floor, her steps slow as if to evade the dreadful encounter for as long as she can. She walks the empty hallways with her gun in her hands, her finger on the trigger, and an agonizing feeling that something bad is about to happen weighing on her like a noose tied to her neck, one that gets tighter with every step she takes. She jumps when one door opens and a group of young men walks out of it, chatting without a care in the world,  they walk by her and Janis hides her gun quickly until they are out of sight.

Sooner than she wishes, she is standing in front of the apartment, number 205. The door is unlocked as well, an invitation for Janis to enter, so she does. "I'm unarmed," she hears the clone killer's voice before she sees her. But there she is, kneeling on the floor with her back facing Janis. Her thin camisole lets her arms and shoulders exposed, and the first thing Janis notices are the scars, red thin lines scattered across her back —some recent, some older and already starting to heal— sickeningly forming a pair of angel wings. An angry angel.

"Turn around," Janis demands, and the other woman obeys, though her injury makes her movements lethargic. She looks at Janis' face with big doe eyes. On her abdomen, the dark red stain contrasts with her white clothes and her sickly pale skin. The stain doesn't look dry, which means she didn't patch things up properly in that bathroom and she has been bleeding nonstop since the incident.

"I think I'm dying," she agonizes as if on cue.

"Yeah? I think I'll watch," Janis spits back. Deborah smiles at her.

"I did not know you," she says. "Where did you come from?"

"From the woodshop," Janis snarls. "How about you?"

"God send me," she says putting her hands up and looking at the ceiling.

"God send you?" Janis repeats with an eyebrow raised. "What God? The one branded on your friend Dawn Schweitzer?"

"Dawn...She helped making you," Deborah says. You, not us. As if she isn't exactly like Janis. "But then she saw the light and came to our side."

"So it's true, isn't it? Veronica killed her to protect us," Janis says, involuntarily walking closer to where the other woman stands, but the gun she raises at her head doesn't falter. "Is that why you wanted to kill her? What about the others?"

"They deserve it. You all deserve it," Deborah screams, the mention of the others riling her up, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring. If not for her current state, Janis would be even more terrified. "Poor copies of God's image of human beings."

"But not you? You're special?" Janis asks, and the expression on Deborah's face, one of superiority and hauteur, unfit for someone half dead, bleeding, and staring at the barrel of a gun, is enough to give Janis an answer. "They said you were the original didn't they?"

"You are all darkness, I am the light."

"What they told you is a lie. We're identical. You, me, Veronica, Edith, and all of the others you killed,"  Janis yells back, another vain attempt to reason with Deborah. "Whoever's told you differently hates you as much as they hate us."

"You're wrong!" Deborah grinds her teeth, burning with hate.

Their argument is interrupted by a third person knocking on the other side of the door. "Veronica!" Heather Chandler's voice becomes heard. Janis' eyes widen and she stops breathing for a second. In an act of desperation and the blinding fear of getting caught by Heather, she makes a not so clever decision.

"Leave! Now!" she whispers hurriedly to Deborah through the relentless knocks on the door. Deborah doesn't understand what Janis means at first, and Janis isn't sure either, but eventually, she obeys and exits through the open window. Janis gets one last glimpse of her wild curly hair just as Chandler swings the door open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Heather asks.

***

Heather takes her back to the station. She is fuming, Janis can practically see the smoke coming out of her ears. Janis still can't believe that she followed her. Lieutenant Gowan doesn't seem happy either once Heather tells him what happened and Janis ends up being called to his office; the feeling is exactly the same as going to the principal's office during high school, but with much higher stakes than getting detention for a week.

"We don't want excuses, we just want you to explain to us what you were doing there!" he demands.

"As I said, I was taking a walk to clear my head and I found myself there," Janis lies.

"You just found yourself at the apartment of the woman you killed?" Heather repeats skeptically. Janis hadn't realized that that was Dawn's apartment but it does make sense.

"Yes," Janis says, sticking to her fabricated lie so she doesn't crack and spill something.

"Sawyer, is there any connection between the shooting and this Jane Doe?" Gowan asks.

You have no idea, Janis thinks. "No," she says instead.

"Then what the hell is going on here?"

Janis looks at him and then at Chandler, who is leaning on the wall with her jaw clenching. Mentally, Janis apologizes to Cady Heron, Lizzie and Denise, then to Veronica as well, before speaking again.

"After the shooting, I came back to prove to myself that I could," she begins, the deceitfulness comes easy to her. "But clearly I'm not doing anybody any good so I quit."

"You what?" Heather asks incredulously. "After everything we've done for you?"

"Yes, I appreciated it but..."

"But you're leaving," Heather interrupts her. Her rage has not wavered but more than that, she looks disappointed. "Why?"

"Walking out is not the answer, Sawyer," Gowan says.

"Really? Then how does this go?" Janis says. She grabs the gun and the badge strapped on her waist and puts them on the table in front of Gowan. Without saying another word, and without meeting Chandler's eyes, she walks out of the door.

[pupsmailbox]

NEUTRAL LEANING MASC NAMES ⌇　abner.　 abram.　 adam.　 adrian.　 alex.　 alistair.　 andreas.　 ariel.　 arlen.　 arley.　 arlo.　 ash.　 atlas.　 auden.　 august.　 austin.　 avery.　 bailey.　 baron.　 barrett.　 baylor.　 beauden.　 bee.　 bellamy.　 bennett.　 blair.　 blaise.　 bowen.　 brayden.　 brendan.　 bronson.　 bryce.　 byron.　 caius.　 caleb.　 callahan.　 callan.　 calloway.　 callum.　 camden.　 cameron.　 carlin.　 carson.　 casey.　 cassian.　 chandler.　 chase.　 cody.　 cole.　 connolly.　 corban.　 corwin.　 cyrus.　 dallas.　 damion.　 damon.　 daniel.　 darius.　 davis.　 dawson.　 daylon.　 denver.　 desmond.　 devin.　 doran.　 dorian.　 drew.　 elian.　 elias.　 ellery.　 ellison.　 emery.　 ethan.　 evan.　 ezra.　 fallen.　 farren.　 finley.　 ford.　 foster.　 gabriel.　 gannon.　 garner.　 gavin.　 gentry.　 graham.　 greer.　 griffin.　 guthrie.　 harley.　 harlow.　 hartley.　 hayden.　 henley.　 henry.　 heron.　 hollis.　 hunter.　 ian.　 irving.　 isaiah.　 jace.　 james.　 jameson.　 jared.　 jeremiah.　 joel.　 jonah.　 joran.　 jordan.　 jory.　 josiah.　 jovian.　 jude.　 julian.　 juno.　 justus.　 kalen.　 kamden.　 kay.　 kayden.　 keaton.　 kellan.　 keller.　 kelly.　 kendon.　 kieran.　 kit.　 kylan.　 landry.　 lane.　 lennon.　 leslie.　 levi.　 leyton.　 liam.　 linden.　 lowell.　 luca.　 madden.　 marley.　 marlow.　 marshall.　 martin.　 mason.　 mathias.　 mercer.　 merritt.　 micah.　 miles.　 miller.　 milo.　 morgan.　 morrie.　 morrison.　 nate.　 nevin.　 nick.　 nicky.　 nico.　 nicolas.　 noah.　 noel.　 nolan.　 oren.　 orion.　 owen.　 parker.　 percy.　 perrin.　 peyton.　 pierce.　 porter.　 preston.　 quincy.　 quinn.　 reece.　 reid.　 reign.　 rein.　 remi.　 remington.　 renley.　 riley.　 river.　 robin.　 rollins.　 ronan.　 rory.　 rowan.　 russell.　 ryan.　 rylan.　 sam.　 samuel.　 sawyer.　 saylor.　 seth.　 shiloh.　 soren.　 spencer.　 stellan.　 sterling.　 talon.　 taylor.　 thaddeus.　 thane.　 theo.　 toni.　 tracy.　 tristan.　 tyrus.　 valor.　 warner.　 wells.　 wesley.　 whitten.　 william.　 willis.　 wylie.　

NEUTRAL LEANING FEM NAMES ⌇　abigaël.　 abilene.　 addison.　 adrian.　 ainsley.　 alexis.　 and.　 andrea.　 arden.　 aria.　 ashley.　 aspen.　 aubrey.　 autumn.　 avery.　 avian.　 ayla.　 bailey.　 beryl.　 blair.　 blaire.　 blake.　 briar.　 brooklyn.　 brooks.　 bryce.　 cameron.　 camille.　 casey.　 celeste.　 channing.　 charlie.　 chase.　 collins.　 cordelia.　 courtney.　 daisy.　 dakota.　 dana.　 darby.　 darcy.　 delaney.　 delilah.　 devin.　 dylan.　 eden.　 eisley.　 elia.　 ellerie.　 ellery.　 ellie.　 elliot.　 elliott.　 ellis.　 ellory.　 ember.　 emelin.　 emerson.　 emery.　 evelyn.　 ezra.　 fallon.　 finley.　 fiore.　 florence.　 floris.　 frances.　 greer.　 gwenaël.　 hadley.　 harley.　 harper.　 haven.　 hayden.　 heike.　 hollis.　 hunter.　 ivy.　 jade.　 jamie.　 jocelyn.　 jordan.　 jude.　 juno.　 kelly.　 kelsey.　 kendall.　 kennedy.　 koda.　 kyrie.　 lacey.　 lane.　 leighton.　 lennon.　 lennox.　 lesley.　 leslie.　 lilian.　 lindsay.　 loden.　 logan.　 lou.　 lyric.　 madison.　 mallory.　 marinell.　 marley.　 mckenzie.　 melody.　 mercede.　 meredith.　 mio.　 misha.　 monroe.　 montana.　 morgan.　 nico.　 nova.　 oakley.　 olympia.　 owen.　 page.　 palmer.　 parker.　 pat.　 paulie.　 perri.　 petyon.　 peyton.　 phoenix.　 piper.　 priscilla.　 quinn.　 raven.　 ray.　 reagan.　 reece.　 reese.　 remi.　 remy.　 riley.　 rio.　 river.　 robin.　 rory.　 rosario.　 rowan.　 ryan.　 rylie.　 sacha.　 sage.　 sam.　 sammy.　 santana.　 sasha.　 sawyer.　 saylor.　 severin.　 shannon.　 shelby.　 shiloh.　 skye.　 skylar.　 sloane.　 sol.　 soleil.　 sterling.　 stevie.　 sutton.　 swan.　 swann.　 sydney.　 tatum.　 taylo.　 taylor.　 tracey.　 valentine.　 vanya.　 vivendel.　 vivian.　 vivien.　 wren.　 wynn.　 yael.

[reportwire]

Mark Stone's last-minute goal sends Vegas past Kings 4-3

Mark Stone’s last-minute goal sends Vegas past Kings 4-3

LOS ANGELES — Mark Stone scored the tiebreaking goal with 24.9 seconds to play, and the Vegas Golden Knights punctuated coach Bruce Cassidy’s debut with a 4-3 victory over the Los Angeles Kings on Tuesday night. Arthur Kaliyev tied it for the Kings with 7:02 left, but the Knights capitalized in the waning seconds after the Kings made an ill-advised move up the ice instead of running out the clock…

[maybeimamuppet]

a few little drabbles

howdy folks! this is a tad redundant but i don’t think i’ve posted about this here. this is a compilation of (almost) all the drabbles and short stories (100-1k ish words) that i write as part of writing ask games i do here!

there’s all sorts of ships and a few different fandoms so feel free to poke around! as of today the most recent ones are chapters 5&6 posted today for my birthday as my present to you! but if i say so myself they’re all pretty good and i hope you enjoy!

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

So Many Questions Part 3

Prompt: You’re pulled in for questioning by NCIS and are quickly surprised to see your ex-boyfriend as your interrogator.

Notes: Some characters are post season 11. Some smut ahead! @kittenlittle24

Part 2. Part 1.

“I’m here to see Agent Gibbs,” you told the security officer. Making a quick call, he nodded and let you through, now adorning a spiffy visitor pass on your chest.

You entered the big orange room with a small smile, grateful this time you weren’t here to be interrogated. You spotted Agent McGee and Bishop sitting at their desks but no sight of Jethro.

“Miss L/N. Everything alright?” McGee asked as you rounded the corner and chose a chair to sit in.

“Oh yeah, everything’s good. Except for the whole phsycho investor trying to kill me. I felt too vulnerable at my office so I came here to see if I could help in any way.”

Both agents gave you a look that you could only describe as part fear part awe.

“What’s the problem?” you asked, looking around to see if there was a big spider somewhere.

“Uh, you’re just sitting at Gibb’s desk. No one sits there except Gibbs,” Bishop answered, laughing nervously. Jeeze. Is Jethro really that intimidating that his agents are scared of a desk chair?

“Well I saw an empty seat and took it. He won’t mind I’m sure. He’s not even here.”

“Oh but I am,” you heard, turning to see Jethro walking over with a cup of coffee in hand. He stopped to stand in front of you and for a few seconds you both just stared at one another, a silent fight for dominance happening. If the chair was so important, you’d let him have it.

You stood up, now close enough to him to smell his aftershave and gave him a smirk. You always loved challenging him, but loved it more when he challenged you back, as it usually ending with him on top in the literal and figurative sense.

Stepping aside, he took a seat and you moved some of his papers so you could sit on the corner of his desk. His team looked thoroughly shocked but didn’t say anything as Jethro barked at them.

“What’d you got?”

“Well Torres and Quinn are interrogating Cheryll Reznik. She told them Ian Chandler had been talking with a man named Dominic. Bishop and I were able to connect an electronic payment he sent for 10k to a Dominic Waters. Turns out Dominic had just been released from prison about a week ago for armed robbery and aggravated assault. Perfect man for a small hit job in need of cash.”

“Then go bring him in McGee. Take Bishop with you.”

They both quickly scurried off, not wanting to be in the awkward space that you had made. Once the elevator doors closed behind them, you spun around, legs now hanging over Jethro’s side.

“Well you certainly have them trained well.”

“Yeah, they listen. Unlike you. I told you to go back to work, we’ve got this handled.”

You leaned in slightly, watching as his eyes briefly glanced down at your slightly opened blouse and then back at your eyes.

“You know how much I love pushing your buttons Jethro. Plus, I’ve been at work all day and haven’t been able to get anything done. I didn’t feel safe there without you there.”

You picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. You forgot he liked his coffee plain.

“I’ve got an agent assigned to you when I’m not there,” he explained, taking the coffee out of your hands and taking a sip of his own.

“It’s not the same. Plus, I was thinking maybe we could get a bite to eat. Im starving and I’m assuming all you’ve had today is coffee.”

“No time. Got a killer to catch.”

“Yeah well you’ll be no good to anyone when you pass out from lack of food and an overdose on caffeine.”

He gave you the familiar look that let you know that he let you win the argument. He only ever gave it to you when he also secretly agreed with you.

Without a word, he got up and you hopped down to follow him with a triumphant smile.

————

“I don’t know why we couldn’t have gone to Duke’s. They’ve got the best beet salad,” you complained, sticking an overly cooked fry into your mouth. The little diner was cute but you were sure they weren’t known for their food.

“This place has good coffee.”

You watched him sip his probably 5th coffee of the day and rolled your eyes. Just then, your phone began ringing and you saw the caller ID as your next door neighbor.

“Hey Greg, what’s up?…What? Right now?….Can you see what he looks like?”

You listened to him give you a description and motioned to Jethro that it was important.

“Ok, no don’t confront them! We’re on our way!”

You hung up as Jethro had already gotten up and paid for the dinner.

“My neighbor just called saying someone was breaking into my place. His description was vague but it looked like they were looking for something.”

You both left the diner and sped off to your house. When you arrived, Greg was waiting out front and he gave you a hug, receiving a look from Jethro.

“They left just after I hung up with you. Took off in a blue sedan. I’m so glad you weren’t in there. I think I saw a gun.”

“Stay here,” Jethro ordered, pulling out his own gun and Greg’s eyes got wide.

“Don’t worry Greg. He’s a federal agent.”

The two of you waited as Jethro cleared the house and came back outside.

“What do you think he was looking for? Does this have anything to do with that crazy lady shooting you Y/N?” Greg asked as we all walked up the house steps.

“I’m not sure Greg, but I appreciate you calling.”

“Yeah no problem. I enjoy looking out for you,” he replied with a smile. Jethro gave him his classic hard stare and Greg cleared his throat awkwardly, smile fading.

“Alright. Well as long as you’re safe. Have a good-

The front door shut on him before he had a chance to finish his sentence and you looked at Jethro.

“He was just being nice Jet.”

“Mm-hm.”

You went around the semi trashed house, trying to figure out if anything was taken as Jethro picked up a little wooden boat from your shelf and inspected it.

“Your first gift to me. Made out of an old piece of driftwood I think you told me.”

He put it back and walked over to you as you finished putting back the couch cushions together.

“Well I don’t think anything was taken but honestly, I could be sure-

You were promptly interrupted by Jethro’s lips on yours and almost froze in shock.

When he didn’t make a move to pull away, you quickly matched his energy and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer.

You both took steps until you felt your back touch the hallway wall. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck as you pulled his jacket off.

“Bedroom. Now,” he spoke huskily, sparking a fire within you. Grabbing his hand, you led him down the hallway and into your bedroom that had also clearly been tossed. You could’ve cared less as the both of you got undressed, Jethro setting his gun and badge down on your bedside table and pulling you into bed.

He didn’t stay on top too long before grabbing you so that you sat atop of him, easily sinking down onto his more than ready length. You both moaned at the contact and you made quick work, rocking back and forth with Jethro’s big hands gripping your hips.

“Just like that baby,” he grunted, looking up at you as you let your head fall back in ecstasy. His hands traveled so that your breasts were being squeezed and pinched, quickly bringing you closer to your climax.

“I can’t last much longer Jet,” you panted, clenching around him, making his eyes close.

He sat up and pulled you in for another kiss, hands helping keep up your rythmic pace until you fell apart, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. He wasn’t far behind, groaning and holding you still as he filled you up, knowing you loved it when he came inside of you.

Breaths heavy as you both came down from your high, you stayed together, embracing each other. He tiredly peppered kisses on your shoulder and gently ran his fingers across your back, making you shiver.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss against your ear. “You were always so easily overstimulated.”

“Yeah well you make it so easy with your talented multi-tasking.”

Eventually, you two separated, you heading into the bathroom to clean up. When you came out, Jethro was on the phone but handed you your clothes.

“Yup. We’ll be right there.”

He hung up and finished tucking and buttoning up his dress shirt.

“That was McGee. They’ve got Dominic in interrogation. He wants to confess.”

“That’s great,” you said, getting dressed and walking over to him as he clipped his badge on and gun on. Fixing his dishelved hair, you smiled and pecked his lips.

“I hope you’ll still come by even after we nail this bastard.”

“Well someone’s gotta make sure Greg keeps his distance.”

You laughed and followed him out.

[fvcking-damage]

i multitasked the whole day today, so below the cut is the list of free agency signings as of july 1st, 2024, 7:30 pm est

NHL FREE AGENCY - JULY 1ST, 2024

- tyler bertuzzi 4x5.5m w/hawks

- sam carrick 3x3m w/nyr

- jake guentzel 7x9m w/bolts

- christ tanev 6x4.5m w/leafs

- brett pesce 6x5.5m w/devils

- yakob trenin 4x3.5m w/wild

- teuvo teravainen 3x4.5m w/hawks

- tyler toffoli 4x6m w/sharks

- jonathan marchessault 5x5.5m w/preds

- steven stamkos 4x8m w/preds

- oliver ekman-larsson 4x3.5m w/leafs

- anthony mantha 1x3.5m w/flames

- sam lafferty 2x2m w/sabres

- matt roy 6x5.75m w/caps

- elias lindholm 7x7.75 w/bruins

- david perron 2x4m w/sens

- brady skjei 7x7m w/preds

- anthony stolarz 2x2m w/leafs

- laurent broissoit 2x3.3m w/hawks

- brandon montour 7x7.14m w/kraken

- viktor arvidsson 2x4m w/oilers

- nikita zadorov 6x5m w/bruins

- brenden dillion 3x4m w/devils

- sean monahan 5x5.5m w/cbj

- danton heinen 2x2.25m w/canucks

- kevin sterlund 2x2m w/utah

- jake debrusk 7x5.5m w/vancouver

- jason zucker 1x5m w/buffalo

- william carrier 6x2m w/canes

- pat maroon 1x1.3m w/hawks

- cam talbot 2x2.5m w/detroit

- jake bean 2x1.75m w/flames

- jonathan drouin 1x2.5m w/avs

- alec martinez 1x4m w/hawks

- brandon duhaime 2x1.85m w/caps

- tyson jost 1x775k w/caps

- tomas nosek 1x775k w/florida

- derek forbort 1x1.5m w/canucks

- michael amadio 3x2.6m w/sens

- matt grzelcyk 1x2.75 w/pens

- zach aston-reese 1x775k w/vegas

- chandler stephenson 7x6.25m w/kraken

- max jones 2x w/bruins

- ryan lomberg 2x2m w/flames

- joel edmundson 4x3.85m w/kings

- josh brown 3x1m w/oilers

- tanner laczynski 2x775k w/vegas

- devin cooley 2x775k w/flames

- jacob bryson 1x900k w/sabres

- matt dumba 2x3.75m w/stars

- brendan smith 1x1m w/stars

- nicolas aube-kubel 1x1.5m w/sabres

- erik gustafsson 2x2m w/detroit

- anthony duclair 4x3.5 w/isles

- ilya lyubushkin 2x3.25m w/stars

- jack campbell 1x775k w/detroit

- taylor raddysh 1x1m w/caps

- craig smith 1x1m w/hawks

- max jones 2x1 w/bruins

- anthony beauvillier 1x1.25m w/pens

- nils lundkvist 1x1.25 w/stars

- ian cole 1x3.1m w/utah

- casey desmith 3x1m w/dallas

- jani hakanapaa 2x1.5m w/leafs

- vincent desharnais 2x2m w/vancouver

- alexander wennberg 2x5m w/sharks

- billy sweezey 2x775k w/bruins

- aj greer 2x850k w/florida

- alexandre carrier 3x3.75m w/preds

- bokondji imama 1x775k w/pens

- kaapo kakhonen 1x1 w/jets

- riley tufte 1x775k w/bruins

- cole koepke 1x775k w/bruins

- jordan oesterle 2x775k w/bruins

- troy grosenick 1x775k w/wild

- jeffrey viel 2x775k w/bruins

- connor carrick 1x775k w/oilers

- scott wedgewood 2x3m w/preds

- warren foegle 3x3.5m w/kings

- christian fischer 1x1.125m w/detroit

- sean walker 5x3.6m w/canes

- shayne gostisbere 3x3.2m w/canes

- colton white 2x775k w/devils

- blake lizotte 2x1.85m w/pens

- parker kelly 2x825k w/avs

- stefan noesen 3x2.75m w/canes

- kevin stenlund 2x2m w/utah

- colin miller 2x1.5m w/jets

- kiefer sherwood 2x1.5m w/vancouver

- eric robinson 1x950k w/canes

- eric comrie 2x825k w/jets

- calvin de haan 1x800k w/avs

- jeff skinner 1x3m w/oilers

- tj brodie 2x3.75m w/hawks

- zemgus girgensons 3x850k w/bolts

- ben meyers 1x775k w/kraken

- chris dreidger 1x775k w/florida

- ilya samsonov 1x1.8m w/vegas

[agentrouka-blog]

Have you read the last post of GRRM in Not A Blog? He wrote this:

That was all back in 2022, but very little has changed since then.   If anything, things have gotten worse.   Everywhere you look, there are more screenwriters and producers eager to take great stories and “make them their own.”   It does not seem to matter whether the source material was written by Stan Lee, Charles Dickens, Ian Fleming, Roald Dahl, Ursula K. Le Guin, J.R.R. Tolkien, Mark Twain, Raymond Chandler, Jane Austen, or… well, anyone.   No matter how major a writer it is, no matter how great the book, there always seems to be someone on hand who thinks he can do better, eager to take the story and “improve” on it.   “The book is the book, the film is the film,” they will tell you, as if they were saying something profound.   Then they make the story their own. They never make it better, though.   Nine hundred ninety-nine times out of a thousand, they make it worse. Once in a while, though, we do get a really good adaptation of a really good book, and when that happens , it deserves applause. I can came across one of those instances recently, when I binged the new FX version of SHOGUN.

Seems he is pissed at HBO?

Yeah, he was good at pretending he didn't mind the changes in GOT, but I remember reading that before the series, he had a lot of people come to him and propose how they would adapt the books, sometimes only focusing in Jon, or Dany, and he didn't like those ideas because they weren't taking into account they were not the only main characters. He was also against adapting his books because he knew the technology wasn't good and wouldn't be a good production.

With GOT, he defended the differences, but in the latest post you can read between the lines how dissappointed he was with the adaptation of his books.

I mean, he could have said that before SHOGUN he was fine with GOT (or HOTD), right? I imagine he doesn't mention them because... well, he prefers to be part of the writers and try to save some of his ideas, and you want to have a good environment, is better if you don't criticize them, right?

Whoa. That is not a subtle dig, isn't it?

He makes no mention of HOTD or GOT but the sheer omission itself seems incredibly damning to me.