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winterscaptain · 2 years

Text

ulterior motives.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank you all so much for your patience and love while I was stuck! i have more ajf for you and we will continue to jump around while I work on the little roadblock in the season 11 arc. as always, it helps me write more when I hear from you! without further ado, here’s the internal affairs episode fic!

words: 7.9k content advisories: language, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, death, and discussion of sexual assault, alcohol use, alcohol mention, sex mention, use of a firearm, gun death, food consumption

summary: “i'm sure I've had my phone tapped for years, I don't think it's a crime against humanity they just ought to quit doing it, god damn it.” ― cornel west. december 2nd, 2015

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

It’s late, and Aaron isn’t home yet. He usually calls.

He always calls.

You try his phone again. Straight to voicemail.

Jack is long asleep, leaving you to worry without sufficient distraction. Concern wasn’t the only thing keeping you up. Little Man introduced heartburn into his symptomatic arsenal and he was delivering.

Propping yourself up further in bed, you stare at your phone.

Where are you?

As if he knows you’re looking for him, your phone rings - a picture appearing on the screen. A favorite capture of yours, it was taken close to four years ago down at Dave’s lakehouse. He’s looking up into the trees, a little squint around his eyes and the suggestion of a smile on his lips.

Gorgeous.

It always makes you smile.

You answer. “Hey, love.”

“Hi, beautiful. What’s your evening about?”

“Just about headed to bed,” you reply. “Your son is misbehaving just by nature of his size, so I guess it’s not really his fault. Did you get everything done with Emily? I know there’s a regional thing going on.”

There's silence on the other end of the line.

“Aaron?”

“Hang on, honey.” There’s a strange color in his voice - trepidation, maybe, or concern. “I’ll call you back.”

But he doesn’t. Not even after ten minutes, then fifteen, then thirty. You flip your phone in your hand, feeling the smooth screen with every pass.

+++

Director Cochran meets Aaron at the entrance in the secure parking garage, leading him into the building. “Chief Hotchner, it’s good to see you.”

“You too, Director.” Aaron reaches out and shifts the flowers he bought you into his left elbow, offers a firm handshake. “Is there anything I should be concerned about?”

Cochran shakes his head. “Not at the moment. We just wanted to read you into a couple of things.” He pats Aaron’s shoulder in an almost-paternal gesture and leads him into the elevator.

“It couldn’t wait?”

Cochran shrugs. “You know us by now, Hotch. Why would we inconvenience ourselves with niceties? I will get you a vase and some water for those flowers though. Would hate for them to wilt while we chat.”

Unfortunately, Aaron knows exactly what he means. He doesn’t reply, but lets an amused huff tumble down his nose. When the elevator opens, he catches sight of a familiar face.

“While I appreciate the ride and the intrigue, you could have called.” Aaron can’t keep the tinge of irritation out of his tone as he’s led into the NSA executive lounge. It’s cozy - armchairs and low tables cluttering the room lit by two fireplaces and little else.

Deputy Director Axelrod stands. “I would have just called to set up a meeting, so I figured we’d skip a step. Plus, this is a little more comfortable than a parking garage.”

Aaron shakes his head, almost amused, and offers his hand. “Good to see you, sir.”

The men take a seat, and Axelrod can see Aaron is a little preoccupied.

“Can I get anything for you, Agent Hotchner?”

With a rueful sigh, Aaron admits, “I could use a phone. My wife is expecting me home and I’d imagine she’s fairly worried by now.”

“Ah, yes. Congratulations on the recent nuptials. How are mom and baby? And your older son?”

Something about the knowledge this man has of his family makes Aaron deeply uncomfortable, but that’s the clandestine agencies for you. While Axelrod is low on the list of people who could pose a threat, Aaron figures less is more.

“They’re well. My wife is due in March.”

Axelrod smiles. “Congratulations again.” He pauses. “How old is Jack now? Nine?”

“Ten. But you knew that.”

He opens his arms in a gesture of guilty surrender. “Now, then. Down to business. A joint NSA-DEA investigation into Libertad, the online illicit drug site, has gone south fast.”

“I heard about it.”

“Yeah, well,” Axelrod says, tipping his head. “One DEA undercover agent is now dead, two are missing.”

Aaron’s eyebrows rise. “Someone in the cartel made them?”

“It would appear so. I’d like your team to investigate.”

That is… strange, to say the least. Aaron’s head is already abuzz with possible repercussions, implications, and red flags. “Why us? Surely, the DEA’s got leads.”

“True,” Axelrod relents. “You and your team are better.”

And that’s even more suspicious.

Aaron calls him on his bluff. Needless to say, he’s a little more than eager to get home. His patience for bullshit and politics dwindles fast, these days.

Good thing he’s grown savvier.

“What do you really want?”

The look on Alexrod’s face says Aaron’s got him. “Look, someone gave up those agents. I have good reason to believe it was the assistant DEA director in charge of the operation, Bernard Graff.” Aaron’s eyebrows lower, a squint appearing at the corners of his eyes. Axelrod continues. “I need you to get the proof.”

“Why not go to the Office of Professional Responsibility?”

“It’ll raise some flags. Graff would suspect an internal affairs investigation. You’re already involved in the Darknet with Giuseppe Montolo, so you have the perfect cover.”

Aaron can’t deny Axelrod’s logic. There’s already a good enough excuse to put together a task force even without a possible mole, given the circumstances. Really, both Aaron and Emily decided it wasn't worth the political game to get anyone else involved in the Dirty Dozen debacle until it was absolutely necessary.

So let’s find out if it’s necessary.

“What makes you think it’s Graff?”

“He knows technical details beyond the scope of his job.”

If that were a crime the entire BAU would be under suspicion. With an internal smile reserved only for himself, his chin tips in understanding.

“And there’s a flash drive that never leaves his wrist. I think it has the access code to the Libertad servers.” As if he can read Aaron’s mind, see his trepidation, he continues. “I did you a favor once. Consider this repayment.”

Axelrod gestures behind him and some lackey brings him a burner phone.

He passes it to Aaron. “All outside numbers are blocked but we have some workarounds. Go ahead and give your wife a call on this phone. Yours will be up and working as soon as you leave the campus.”

Aaron returns the gesture with a tense smile, dialing your number. “Thanks.”

+++

You’re dozing a little bit, sitting up in bed, when your phone rings. The caller ID is blocked. You answer it anyway, prepared for the worst.

“This is Hotchner.”

“Hi, baby.” There’s an apology in his voice, his tone quiet.

You heave a sigh of relief. “Where are you? What happened? When are you coming home?”

There’s a second of silence on the other side of the phone. He answers you after a moment. “I can’t tell you where I am right now or what I’m here for, but I am safe and I will be home soon.”

A memory pops into your head, one of staring at him, in bed, after your first night sharing a bed (in the biblical sense).

“And while I may have to keep things from you, I promise I will never fabricate a reality outside of the truth ever again. If you ask me a question I can’t answer, I will tell you as much. If you ask me if what I communicated is all the information I have, I will tell you that, too.” He huffs something that’s almost a laugh. “I will be as forthcoming as possible about the things I cannot be forthcoming about.”

It brings a smile to your face, soothes your anxiety.

“Okay. I mean, I tried your phone, but -”

“It won’t go through here.” He pauses. “I’m so sorry honey. I didn’t mean to worry you. I wasn’t able to call until now.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.” You mean it. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

+++

As promised, Aaron returns home within the hour. You’re still awake.

When he finds you in the bedroom, he immediately joins you on the bed, still suited, sans-shoes. You take him in your arms and he rests his head on your chest, his hand falling on your belly.

“I’ll be able to read you all into the op tomorrow,” he says. “They’re running audits on BAU security clearances as we speak.”

You rake your fingers through his hair, disrupting the pomade holding it in place. Aaron sighs and somehow gets closer to you.

“Scale of one to ten?”

You can feel his smile. “Political, national security implication, difficulty, or insanity?”

“Let’s start with political.”

He hums. “Twelve.”

Yikes.

You established this system when he was promoted, in the interest of observing the security clearance gaps while keeping the how was your day conversations interesting.

To date, there’s never been anything over a nine on the political sliding scale of nightmarish repercussions.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

You sigh. “Alright. National security?”

He wavers for a second. “Eight. Corruption isn’t inherently a threat, but this could get bad.” He taps your belly with his fingers. “Theoretically, of course.”

Everything is, of course, theoretical. In case anyone were to ask.

“True enough.”

“Anything else?” He asks. Apparently, this is a conversation consisting of two-word phrases. Often, you’ve come to find that’s just marriage.

You shake your head. “No, my love. I’m happy you’re home.”

He takes your hand and kisses your palm, pressing your hand to his cheek. Even though you watched him shave this morning, you can feel the stubble on his jaw. The exhaustion radiating from his every pore seems deeper than just the consequences of a long day. There’s something existential about it.

“Hey, Aaron?”

He cranes his neck, meeting your eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay, whatever it is.”

A little huff of laughter leaves him. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

He shakes his head. “Impossible.”

+++

Upon reaching the office a little early the following morning, Aaron closes himself up in Dave’s office while you tackle any emails that need your immediate attention. Dave and Aaron pass your desk on their way through the bullpen, but you don’t know where they’re going.

The floor is quiet, so you eventually get up and wander. It’s still early, so the traffic in the hallways is minimal.

You finally reach Penelope’s “apartments,” as she fondly calls her new room, and knock on the door.

“I’m halfway decent! Close the door behind you.”

With a little laugh, you follow instructions, leaning on her makeshift breakfast table. “You didn’t even know it was me.”

“It was either you, one of the handsome agents assigned to my detail or another equally gorgeous member of our team.” She shrugs, appearing from behind her privacy screen. Her fingers are fiddling with her earrings - getting them on, you imagine.

She wasn’t lying - she is only halfway decent. Her dress is open at the top, exposing the top of her adorable, lacy bra.

“I figured,” she continues, “you needed something to brighten your day.”

You let out another laugh. “Like your tits?”

She looks at you, wide-eyed and smiling. “Of course. Now can you hold this so I can pin it?” She gestures to a section of hair that seems to stubbornly slip through her fingers every time she tries to do something with it.

You’re more than happy to oblige, holding the locks with soft, gentle fingers. “Are you settling in okay?”

She shakes her head, but her face is obscured by her arm, blocking your view of the mirror. “I’d rather not get settled in. This will be done soon and it'll make it all that much harder to pack.”

“Ah.”

You can’t help but feel a little bad. Her sunny optimism, you’re sure, will only get her so far. Privately, you’re giving it another week before it really crashes and burns.

It’ll sink in soon.

“How’s little man doing?” She asks, turning. “Can you zip me up?”

“He’s good. Didn’t keep me up too much last night.” You slide the zipper up the middle of her back, linking the hook and eye at the top.

You can see her suggestive, almost wicked, smile in the mirror. “Why? Because boss man was busy doing that for him?”

“Penelope!”

“What?! It’s been like four years, I should think you’d be over the sex jokes by now.”

You sigh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” she replies, turning around and tapping your nose. “You love me.”

“This much is true,” you concede.

She leaves you, picking up a pair of blue frames from her hanging tree of glasses. You hear voices down the hall - familiar ones - and you cross to the door, opening it a little.

Before you can step away, you hear, “I assume you want to keep this between us for now?”

You turn, giving the impression of disinterest as Dave and Aaron round the corner.

“Yeah,” you hear Aaron reply. He reaches the door, knocking twice on the frame.

“Garcia, are you ready?” He glances at you and you just smile with a little shake of your head.

“Uh, hold on. Yes.” She turns, showing off her outfit and frames. “See, the blue plays off the knit, here. It’s complementary, but it’s not matchy-matchy.”

“You’ve been here a week,” Dave says. “Have you thought about unpacking? It might make things a bit easier.”

You glance over at Dave, tipping your head just the barest amount.

Careful.

“I took my hotplate out ‘cause I was sick of the cafeteria food, but I’m not going to be here much longer ‘cause of this new case, huh? You guys are going into the belly of the beast. You’re gonna find out who’s targeting me. Am I right?” She toddles up to Hotch, her heels bringing the top of her eyeglass frames to his chin.

“Among other things,” Aaron replies drily.

“It’s the Darknet – that’s where all Montolo’s cronies live. If anyone can find the answer, sir, it’s you guys.” her face breaks into a wide grin. “I know you can.”

+++

“The NSA and the DEA are both involved,” Aaron says. “So we’ll be part of a joint task force. Go ahead, Garcia.”

Aaron sits beside Emily, who reviews the information in front of her with a furrowed brow and pinched mouth. You know this has everything to do with Aaron’s little escapade last night, but beyond that you know there’s a whole host of things you don’t know.

Given the smallest bit of the conversation you overheard this morning, you know you’re not alone.

“Okay.” Penelope stands and starts clicking through the photos. “Uh, three weeks ago undercover DEA Agent Mark Bowers disappeared. He was based in El Paso, but five days ago his body showed up in Ciudad Juarez, just across the Mexican border.”

“Ciudad Juarez is one of the most dangerous cities in the world,” Tara says.

Penelope nods. “Not only was Agent Bowers found strangled, but he also had another human face covering his own face.”

“Another... human... face?”

JJ’s confusion, marred with disgust, almost makes you laugh.

Yeah. This job broke my sense of humor.

You’re almost sorry about it.

“Yes,” Penelope confirms, her lip curled up. “I guess skinned or scalped. I don’t know what you call it, but I couldn’t put the pictures up here. You can see them on your own tablets.”

“It is typical for drug cartels to use a corpse to send a message,” Derek says.

“Yeah,” you add. “Body parts sent to family members, that kind of thing.”

JJ, recovered from her shock, notes, “A face on top of another face could easily mean he’s undercover or he’s two-faced.”

“Which is bad news for the two missing agents,” Emily replies. “They were both undercover.”

Penelope runs though the last known whereabouts of DEA agents John Portman and Sarah Miles. It looks grim. “All of these agents were investigating the Libertad drug cartel.”

“Well, if someone knew that they were undercover, then there has to be a mole on the inside.” Derek glances around the table.

“Well,” Aaron says. “We have to consider all possibilities. This cartel is in fact unique in a few ways.”

Something colors the underside of his tone. He replied just a little too quickly, looked around a little too fast. You[‘re not sure if anyone else at the table would have caught it, but to you it was as obvious as a neon sign.

There’s a mole. That’s our real assignment here.

Security clearances don’t mean much when you can read him as easily as the words in front of you.

“Yeah,” Penelope chirps, “it appeared on the Darknet after the Silk Road was shut down. It has an online and an on-the-ground component based in El Paso. It’s run by someone named George Washington.”

“An identity that can be assumed by different individuals.” Aaron supplies. You try to catch his eye, but it’s almost like he’s avoiding you on purpose.

“El Paso’s just across the Rio Grande from some of the worst drug violence there is.” Dave shrugs. “Not a bad place to set up.”

Tara nods. “Yeah, you’re right about that. I mean, it’d be so easy to fly under the radar when there’s bigger fish to fly right down the road.”

“All right,” Aaron says. “You’ll all head to El Paso with Prentiss and find out what happened to the missing agents. Except you.” He points to you. “We’ll run the cyber part of the investigation from here.”

“Me?”

Typically, Aaron doesn’t pair off with you in the interest of discretion. This time, he just nods, meaningfully meeting your eyes.

Okay, you reply with a look. I’ve got your back.

Dave stands, wishing you and Aaron a cryptic, “Happy hunting!” before leaving the room.

+++

You and Aaron take one of the bureau SUVs to the DEA headquarters. It’s just up the road in Springfield, but the drive feels longer than it should.

“Are you okay, Aaron?”

He tips his head. “I’m alright.”

You reach for his shoulder, your thumb passing over the fabric of his suit. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing you need to know,” he replies. “I’d rather have you safer than more informed, at the moment.”

“Ah.”

That makes all the sense in the world. At least you know you’re right - there’s something going on, something deeper than a few missing agents.

You take a little bit of a chance, but know there wouldn’t be any real consequences anyway, not in the relative safety of the car. “Is it the mole? Are we finding the mole?”

Aaron’s face doesn’t change, save for the small crease that appears in the corner of his eye. “Again, I’d rather you be safe than informed. You know what to look for and how to communicate your findings.” He reaches for your hand. “I brought you because…” He sighs. “Because I can read you the best. I can see what you see.”

You bring his knuckles to your lips, feeling the dry, warm skin against your mouth. “I love you.”

He glances at you with a small smile, neatly making his own point. I love you, too.

+++

The inside of DEA’s Cyber Division is far...sleeker than you would have imagined. You’re not sure why you pictured something that looked more like someone’s basement, but then of course, you know what they say about assumptions.

“You must be Agent Hotchner.” A seasoned, rugged-looking man approaches Aaron with a hand outstretched. You immediately notice the flashdrive on his wrist - securely wrapped in a paracord bracelet.

“Yes sir.”

The man directs his attention to you and you do your best to keep your expression neutral as he attempts to subtly size you up. You’re used to it by now. A pregnant FBI agent isn’t necessarily the first thing people expect.

Can’t imagine why.

“One of your colleagues, I presume?” The man asks, glancing at Aaron.

“Yes, sir. My wife - Agent Hotchner. She will be assisting me with the task force’s cooperative efforts.”

You step forward and take his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am. I’m Assistant DEA Director Bernard Graff. Welcome to the cyber war against drugs.” He leads you both further into the room. “We could always use the extra help, but I’m surprised the NSA pulled you into this. Aren’t you busy hunting psychopaths who cut up prostitutes or something?”

“Well, we have a case and there may be some crossover.”

Graff glances at Aaron. “You mean Giuseppe Montolo and the online hitmen?”

“Yes,” you reply. “We’re interested in whoever the successor to the Silk Road may be, and Libertad seems to fit the bill.”

“Well, if you ask me, the NSA’s got it easy. All they do is monitor and analyze. But when it comes to putting away the bad guys, you and I have to do all the dirty work. Isn’t that right?”

You move to reply with some kind of quip, but Aaron stops you with a finger on the outside of your hip. There’s some kind of commotion near one of the offices before a man throws the door open, making a beeline for the elevators.

“No, no.”

“It’s not related.” A woman says, chasing after him. He stops, turning.

“Are you kidding me? My best friend did not just have a hiking accident. I’m out of here.”

He continues to flee. She takes two more steps toward him but gives up. “Simon.”

Soon enough, the woman redirects, approaching you, then Aaron. Graff supplies the introductions.

“This is Adrienne Mitchell, our head Libertad intelligence specialist. Agents Hotchner and Hotchner from the BAU - apparently the FBI is doing couples counseling now.”

Ignoring the jab, you reach out, taking Adrienne’s hand. “Pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“The man who just left was our confidential informant Simon Kahn,” Graff explains.

Adrienne looks over her shoulder for a moment. “He just learned his friend died. I’ll give him some space, then we talk to him again.”

“Our specialists have been posting online as buyers and dealers…”

You can’t help but notice the searching, suspicious looks Adrienne keeps throwing your way. You know she’s trying to be subtle about it, but it’s your job to notice. There’s a bit of a staring contest between her and Aaron for a moment, both seeming to sus each other out in equal measure.

There’s some part of your brain that keeps your attention on Graff, nodding along with what you assume is a quasi-original thought. You’re only brought back fully when Adrienne shifts, adding to the conversation.

“He’s a Tor network relay operator for them. He wants out but claims he’s not being allowed to quit.”

“Is he being threatened?” You ask.

“Apparently,” Graff replies, “but we haven’t seen the evidence.”

Aaron’s turn. “Does he know who the head of the cartel is?”

“The real ID of George Washington?” He waits for confirmation and Aaron nods once. “No. But he does know the number two.”

“It took months to get him to come in. He was close to giving us a name, but now he’s scared again.”

You almost feel bad for Adrienne - she looks genuinely distressed.

Graff offers to set you up while Aaron requests some information for Penelope. One of the agents at a nearby desk shows you to a small office space while Graff and Mitchell hang back. You can’t really see - only a warped reflection in the glass shows them leaning toward each other, but it looks like they’re talking about you.

+++

Aaron steps into the office from a phone call with Emily.

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head. “They’re doing good work. There are a couple of solid leads in El Paso. It looks like the unsub had some skill and patience while removing the skin of the face and spent some time with the dead victims. That alone is a good start on the profile.”

You tip your head. “Good enough.”

+++

Graff shepherds you both into his office later in the evening, pouring some scotch.

Graff looks to you and you put one hand on your belly, patting twice, while the other holds up your water bottle. “I’m good with mine.”

He looks at Aaron.

“Oh.” Aaron shakes his head. “Thanks.”

“Axelrod said you were a real straight arrow,” Graff says. “Like Eliot Ness reborn.”

You smother a smile, flipping the straw on your water and pulling a few sips. Aaron shoots a somewhat playful glare in your direction before one of the photos on the wall catches his eye.

“Is that your dad?”

“Yeah. That’s my dad. He was in the DEA, too. His father, my grandpa, was a G-man. It makes you all wonder, doesn’t it?”

“About what?” You ask.

“If what we’re doing really matters? In the end, we’re all just government employees, aren’t we? After we’re gone, someone will take our place. New criminals replace the old.”

“Does it make you want to give it all up for a different life?”

The blood in your veins runs a little cooler at the implication of Aaron’s question. You suppress a shiver.

Graff takes the bait. “I know why you’re really here.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, waiting him out. It doesn’t escape your notice that Aaron has placed himself between you and Graff. You’re also out of the sightline from the main set of windows. Anyone looking in would only be able to see the two men.

The observation closes your throat a little. All Aaron ever wants to do is protect you.

And your sons.

It’s true. In Aaron’s mind, it’s his sole function. The work, the excitement, the politics, it’s all secondary. In some ways, he only continues to do this job, to run divisions that catch ‘the bad guys’ so the world is safer for you.

And his sons.

You swallow, focusing back.

Where were we? Right. Graff knows why we’re here.

Doubt it.

“Hornet.”

Told you.

“Most people aren’t aware there are multiple Darknets,” Graff continues. “Tor network is just one of them. There are over two million users on Tor, which is slowing it down, making it too vulnerable. A lot of operations are jumping ship to other darknets, like Hornet.” He pulls the flash drive from the computer, clipping it around his wrist again.

“You think Libertad will?” Aaron ask

“Probably. But I bet Giuseppe Montolo's hitmen have already moved. You're here because you think we have undercover access to a Hornet router.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do you?”

“No,” Graff replies. You’re almost certain he forgot you were there. “We're still working on it. So your presence here is premature.”

Aaron’s phone rings. It’s Dave.

“Excuse me.” He picks up. “Yeah, Dave. Yeah, keep me posted. Thanks.” He hangs up. “My team has found evidence of a serial killer working in the El Paso area using the drug violence as a cover.”

We knew that.

What was that call really about? What does Dave know?

You keep your expression neutral, soft, as the thoughts pass through your head.

Graff doesn’t do so well in his weak attempt at neutrality. The irony is thick when he says, “Well, it's a good thing you're on this case, then, isn't it?”

+++

You lean against the glass, listening to Aaron’s side of Dave’s update. Given Aaron’s clipped, brief answers, it's likely Dave’s got good information for him.

“No,” Aaron says. “But something’s definitely wrong.”

You turn your head when the door to the bullpen opens, Graff at the handle. Aaron could probably see him through the glass as he approached.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Aaron hangs up and crosses past you, making a little lopsided triangle.

Graff looks at both of you in turn. “I thought you should know I'm having the ground investigation into Libertad suspended for now.”

“We understand,” you tell him. “I’m sure this is preferable to taking the risk of losing more agents in the field.”

Graff tips his head, looking at Aaron. “You know, I've been wondering. Instead of looking for Montolo's hitmen, have you tried looking for the Dirty Dozen?”

“Did Axelrod tell you about that?”

The space between the glass and the elevators shrinks all of a sudden - feeling much smaller under the blanket of tension Aaron just threw over the room.

“Aren't we all sharing information here?” Graff asks.

Before Aaron can reply, Adrienne throws the door open, almost running into one of Graff’s broad shoulders in her haste. “We got a problem. Simon Kahn, our C.I., is dead. His car exploded outside his apartment.” She swallows, her brows taking on that anxious bend you noticed earlier. “He was coming to meet me.”

+++

Aaron practically wrestles you into the elevator to head home later that night. Jack’s already asleep and Jess is crashed out in the guest-room-turned-nursery.

“I’ll stay here,” he says. “There’re a few more things I need to check out.”

You nod, reaching for him. He wraps his arms around you, getting as close as he can around your son. It’s getting harder by the day and you’re not even in the third trimester yet. “Be safe, please.”

He nods. “I will. Go home and get some rest.”

+++

You try to ignore the two black SUVs on either end of your block as you walk to the front door of your condo, unlocking it. A shadow on the far side of your porch startles you.

“Jesus, Anderson.” You put a hand to your chest. “You’re lucky Hotch is still at the office. Pretty sure he would have shot you if you gave him the chance.”

“Sorry.” Grant’s lips twist in a rueful smile. “It’s been quiet. Nobody in or out except Jess and Jack. You’re clear.”

You offer him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Of course. I’ll leave it to the Marshals - they’ve got you covered on the perimeter.” He gives you a playful salute and hops the porch railing, landing on the grass. “Good night.”

“Good night, Grant. Give my love to Jude when you get home, okay?”

“I will. He’s looking forward to baseball next spring. He wants to take Jack to a few Nationals games when the Mets are in town.”

That brings a smile to your face. “I’m sure Jack would love that.”

+++

In all truth, Aaron doesn’t have anything to do. He is, of course, hypervigilant about your safety and has a vested interest in getting you home and under the protection of your family’s detail.

His efforts to guarantee his own safety?

Questionable, at best.

When most of the agents have cleared out for the evening, Aaron stops pretending to read the Libertad files. There are inconsistencies - ones that absolutely caught his attention on the third or fourth pass through.

Whoever’s orchestrating this is good. Too good.

He stands, closing the files.

“Done for the night?” Adrienne asks, looking up from her computer.

Aaron nods. “Almost.”

He’s outside, walking to his car, when his phone rings. The number is blocked and he instinctively looks around before answering it.

“This is Hotchner.”

“It's Graff. We need to talk. It's urgent. Meet me at the Raleigh Hotel bar. I'm heading there right now.”

Graff hangs up. Aaron calls you.

“Yeah?” You sound groggy.

“Sorry, baby. I just - um.” He runs a hand through his hair, glancing at his car. “I love you.”

“Are you okay?”

He nods, though you can’t see him. “Yeah. I, uh, I just wanted to tell you.”

“You’re getting in your car, aren’t you?”

How the hell…

“Yeah.” After New York, he occasionally has a bit of anxiety getting near the agency SUVs late at night, especially in the middle of a high-profile case.

“Alright. Let’s go through it. Anyone weird lurking around?”

Aaron looks, stepping back into one of the stoops. “No.”

“Find some cover and unlock it for me.”

The vision he has of you, sleepy and sitting up in bed, powers his next breath. He unlocks the car. Nothing happens.

“Clear.”

“Good. Alright.” You take a breath. “Good job. Let’s go to that driver’s side door.”

Aaron steps out from the eave and down to the street from the curb. He takes a look inside - nothing of note. “I’m trying the handle.”

“Okay.”

Your soft breath in his ear keeps him locked in. He reaches for the handle and opens the door.

Nothing.

He glances under the breaks. “Brakes are clean.”

You’re quiet, but he knows you’re there.

+++

It’s safe to say your heart is in your throat. You know exactly what he’s afraid of. You remember New York like it was last week - not too far, not too close.

But close enough.

You swallow your fear and give your next direction. His brain, you’re sure, is entirely made of fear and adrenaline right now. It’s your job to be his rational center.

It’d be unfortunate to hear him get blown up again, but if it brings him peace of mind, that’s enough.

+++

“Start ‘er up. Let’s get that engine warm.”

Aaron checks for a pressure plate under the driver’s seat before sitting down. “Graff called me,” he says. “Said it was urgent.”

“Unfortunately,” you tell him, “you’re being responsible so he’s going to have to wait.”

“Right.” Aaron puts the keys in the ignition, the door still open, and turns. The engine starts up no problem, no fanfare. “Alright. Unless anything’s on a timer, we’re good.”

He hears you sniff on the other end of the line, but he’s not sure if you’re crying or if you’re just handling some of the weird sinus pressure that’s plagued you through the second trimester.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Go to your meeting. Thank you for calling me. I’m glad we did that together.”

Aaron sighs. “Me too. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

+++

It feels like you’re asleep only moments when you get a call from Penelope.

“Hey, pumpkin. Sorry to wake you, but it looks like Assistant Director Graff has been found dead in his car.” You can hear the grimace in her voice.

You’re fully alert almost immediately. “Where’s Hotch?”

For some reason, ‘Hotch’ is the thing that leaves your mouth when you’re terrified - something for your therapist to deconstruct later, probably.

“He’s arriving on scene as we speak. He was at the Raleigh Hotel, safe and sound.”

You take a deep breath. “Thank you, Pen. Does he need me on scene?”

“No,” she replies. “He just knew you’d be pissed if you woke up to a news of a shooting and nobody told you.”

He’s got that right.

Even then, you’re already awake.

What the hell.

+++

“Aaron?”

“I’m headed to Springfield,” he says by way of reply.

You tip your head, your fingers tapping the steering wheel. “That’s convenient. Me too.”

He huffs. “I thought I told you to stay home.”

“You did. I’m done with that.” You rush to add, “It’s not Penelope’s fault. She told me to stay home, too. But I just - I can’t.”

Glancing in your rearview mirror, you spot your detail - a lone black hatchback trailing you about two cars back.

“Alright,” Aaron concedes. “I’ll meet you there.”

+++

You end up arriving at the same time. He takes you by the elbow and practically drags you to the elevator. He’s gentle, of course, but his sense of urgency is not to be overstated.

“What happened?”

“Someone shot Graff in his car. Staged the crime scene.” He shakes his head. “This is bad.”

The elevator opens and you let him out in front of you, his long legs taking only two steps before he reaches the door. You see Adrienne on the other side of the glass.

“We need to talk,” Aaron says.

Adrienne grabs her upholstered bag, that signature concern and anxiety written all over her face as she approaches you both and leans in. “Graff didn't kill himself.”

“We know,” you assure her. “The question is, who did?”

“The mole.”

“What do you know about a mole?” Aaron asks.

“Graff told me months ago. He's the one who alerted the NSA that an insider might be running Libertad.”

“And you and Graff thought it was one of us, that we came to tie up loose ends.”

“Yes,” she says. “But then Graff said it wasn't either of you, when you were genuinely surprised that Libertad might leave the Tor network.”

Your brow drops. “Do you have the flash drive?”

“He gave it to me for safekeeping. He said he found something new.”

Adrienne leads the way into Graff’s office, where Aaron takes the lead. He clicks through files, sees inconsistencies even more egregious than the ones he caught that afternoon.

“Graff was storing evidence against the mole,” Adrienne explains. “It looks like someone requested a police investigation file.”

Aaron clicks twice more, revealing a familiar seal. His voice is quiet. “Someone from the NSA.”

+++

Aaron sends you and Adrienne home, offering one of your agents to her. She refuses.

“No. I’m happy to accept the consequences of doing the right thing. You guys are in far greater danger than me.” She offers you something you think could be a smile if it wasn’t so tense. “Thanks for your help.” Looking up at Aaron, she adds, “Thanks for not being the mole.”

The half-surprised twitch of Aaron’s eyebrow gives him away. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

Adrienne disappears into a cab that promptly disappears and you close yourself into the car, ready to drive home. “You going to confront Axelrod?”

Aaron nods. “It’s not that late. He’s still at the office.”

You check the clock, surprised to find that he’s right. It’s not even midnight.

Looking through the window at him, you tip your chin up. He meets you in the middle, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Get home safe.”

You hum. “Get in the car. I’m going with you.”

His brow pinches, but he doesn’t say anything. With a sigh, he rounds the front of the car and slides into the passenger seat.

+++

You wait near the doorway, in the hall, as Aaron gets clearance into the executive lounge. He’s full of confidence - entirely settled in Lawyer Mode.

Not for the first time, you can almost see that young prosecutor Haley used to talk about.

The door closes behind him. You wait.

About a minute later, your clearance comes through. The door opens for you as well, but you don’t go all the way in. You lurk, just inside the door, in the shadows. It’s advantageous for Aaron to have a witness.

“Do you have proof?” You hear Axelrod ask.

“Not beyond his dead body and the urgent call he made to me.”

“All right, so my hunch was off.”

Axelrod seems far too blasé for someone close to a treason accusation. Maybe he’s betting Aaron won’t go there.

I wouldn’t put money on that.

If you can bet on anything, it’s that Aaron will go there - no matter where ‘there’ is.

“Partly,” Aaron answers. “The head of Libertad is definitely an insider. And the evidence points to you.”

Axelrod scoffs. During his eyeroll, he catches sight of you. His eyes linger, a squint appearing.

“I'm going to give you one chance to come clean.” Aaron’s tone draws his attention again, taking the heat off of you. “If it is you, make no mistake, I will take you down.”

You shiver.

Aaron pulls a folded piece of paper from his inside pocket. “Do you recognize that number?”

“No,” Axelrod says. “But it's an NSA prefix.”

“Someone called Simon Kahn from this number a half an hour before he was killed.”

You can hear the prosecutorial bend in his tone, like he’s trying to convince a jury hiding behind the fireplace.

It never really leaves you, I guess. Even Aaron says law school scars for life.

“It could have come from any NSA office. It wasn't me.” Aaron has him on the defense now.

Good.

“A year ago,” Aaron says, unfolding the paper, “someone from the NSA requested a file transfer from the El Paso police department. It was about a serial killer investigation that started in Mexico.”

Axelrod takes it, reviewing the request. “This came from an onsite server. It means whoever requested this was in Fort Meade on December 2, 2014. I wasn't even in the country. I was in France at my niece's wedding.” He looks at Aaron, eyebrows raised. “Would you like to see the photos?”

“Who tipped you off about Graff?”

“My boss.” Axelrod’s eyes cast downward, his brows following suit. Aaron glances at you, checking in. You nod once.

Let’s do it, baby.

The small lift at the corner of his mouth speaks volumes.

The next afternoon finds you in the lounge again, a glass of water on the little table next to Aaron. After assurances from Axelrod that the Director would have limited contact and mobility, you both agreed to go home and get some sleep.

Well-earned.

As promised, Director Cochran breezes through the doorway for a ‘scheduled meeting’ with Axelrod. You stand as the door opens, placing yourself just off the wing of Aaron’s chair. Your intention is to haunt. It was Aaron’s idea, anyway.

When Cochran turns the corner to see you and Aaron, he pauses.

“Agent Hotchner. And...Agent Hotchner. This is a surprise.”

Aaron doesn’t move, doesn’t stand, doesn’t flinch. Even his fingers are still where they sit folded in his lap. “Director Cochran. Agent Prentiss’s team - my team - found the serial killer responsible for murdering the drug enforcement agents. His name is Jacob Dufour.”

“Excellent,” Cochran says, taking a seat. “I envy the work the BAU does. It must be so satisfying.”

Smug bastard. Didn’t even offer me a seat.

Aaron doesn’t buy into the informality. “Dufour wasn't working alone. He had a helpful partner putting the victims into his hunting zone.”

“Dufour didn't even know they were DEA agents,” you add.

“Who was the partner?” Cochran asks.

Aaron’s voice remains even, his head tilting ever so slightly in a move that reminds you, strangely, of Gideon when he set Reid in a checkmate. “You.”

“Me? And how is that possible?” Cochran’s questions are flat, serious. But then again, he is a politician. All directors are. It would take more than this to get a rise out of him.

Aaron stands. You sit, demurely placing yourself on the arm of Aaron’s recently vacated chair.

You watch, a soft smile on your face as you watch Aaron close in, that hawkish instinct seeming to draw him even taller, towering over Cochran in a chair that suddenly looks too small. “In 2011 there was a local investigation into a serial killer who was taking advantage of the drug violence. You requisitioned a file and figured out how the killer was operating.”

“I applaud your thoroughness, but this is really unwarranted -”

That’s enough.

Your turn. “There's five million dollars in Bitcoin in a Panamanian bank account that we have traced back to you.”

“Well,” he scoffs, “this is clearly a setup.” Axelrod appears with two armed agents flanking him. Cochran grasps at the apparent lifeline. “Axelrod, tell him. Tell him.”

Axelrod doesn't address the request. Instead, he directs the agents behind him. “Take him.”

“Do you mind if we borrow your pen?” You ask. It’s hardly a question. One of the agents, wearing gloves, picks up the pen from Cochran’s pocket. The agent unscrews the cap, revealing a USB drive.

“Something tells me the access codes to the Libertad servers are in there,” Aaron says, his voice without suggestion or inflection. He’s ice cold, down to his veins.

The agents take Cochran by the arms, but he resists. “Wait. Agent Hotchner -”

Aaron’s not having it. “You're under arrest on multiple counts of racketeering and conspiracy to murder a federal agent.”

“This is a mistake! You don't know what you're doing!”

The agents escort a struggling former director out of the lounge while the three of you look on.

Axelrod sighs, breaking the fresh silence of the room. “I could use a drink. How about you?”

“Sure.” Aaron tips his head

You press a kiss to Aaron’s cheek and shake Axelrod’s hand. “You boys have fun. I’m going home.”

Aaron scoffs. “Leaving me with what car?”

“You have a protection detail and the entire NSA fleet at your disposal. Right now, the mother of your child needs to prop her feet up.” You turn toward Axelrod. “Can you get my husband back to Quantico for me? He left his car there and he’s perfectly capable of driving himself home.”

He smiles, taking your hand and patting the back of it. “Of course, ma’am. Drive safe.”

“Thank you.”

You turn to leave, looking back just in time to hear Axelrod confess, “You know, Hotch, as long as you don't threaten to take me down again, I think we could actually be friends.”

+++

You rest at home with Jack as evening turns into night. Aaron finds himself in Penelope’s hideaway, his check-in sidetracked by a phone call with Dave.

“So Libertad's been completely shut down.”

“Yes,” Aaron replies. “But all of its competitors are stepping in as we speak.”

“How's Garcia doing?” Dave asks.

Aaron glances across the room, where Penelope pulls groceries out of a tote bag, compliments of Anderson. “She's disappointed she can't go home, but she's doing okay.”

“I'll bring her a new garden troll to cheer her up when I get back.” Aaron can hear the smile in Dave’s voice.

“That's a good idea. I'll talk to you soon.” When he hangs up, he looks at Penelope. “Am I right? You doing all right?”

She pauses. “Well, uh, I don't really have a choice, do I?”

“No.” It’s apologetic, empathetic. He’s not sure it’s an asset, but he intimately understands the pressure and stress of protective custody.

“Well, then, yes,” she chirps. “I am hunky-dory. I am.”

She begins to flutter, her voice filling with tears. “I'm, um... I'm gonna put some satin sheets on that, I'm gonna put a splash of color over there. I'm gonna put some tassels on that thing.”

As soon as she stops moving, she breaks, tears falling from her eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“I know, it’s hard.” He stops her, his hands ghosting over her shoulders. “But it's not gonna be forever.”

“And... You got Cochran.” There’s her everlasting hope, breaking through her tears like sunshine.

That’s good.

“True.”

“And he lawyered up, but he could talk at some point?”

This much is true. “He could.” Aaron moves to leave, but Penelope gets his attention again.

“Hey, I'm gonna make myself a vegetarian omelet for dinner. Do you want one?”

“Well, uh…” He checks his phone. “Jack's already in bed, so... You have jalapeños?”

“Uh...Uh…” She breaks out into a small bit of incredulous laughter. “I'm sorry. Um, do--do I have ja -” She grabs a cutting board, already adorned with a knife and three jalapeño peppers. I want you to know, I have had a love affair with all things hot and spicy since I was like twelve.”

Aaron smiles, taking the board from her and getting to work.

+++

When you check your phone, you find a text message from Emily.

8:57pm Attachment: 1 Image

The photo - clearly taken without either party’s knowledge - reveals an adorable portrait of Penelope and Aaron cooking dinner together. Penelope stands at her hotplate, flipping something that looks like an omelet, while Aaron finely chops chives and jalapenos at the table.

Another text follows up from Emily.

8:58pm Don’t let him trick you into dessert - she has brownies and he had three.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic #fem reader

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piratewithvigor · 4 years

Text

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously.

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged.

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

#I made this instead of doing homework #Classic Rock #Meme

331 notes · View notes

penaltybox14 · 4 years

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Decofiremen: Soon Be the Dawning Days

@darknight-brightstar @zeitheist Every single one of my attempts to write pleasant holiday-oriented things ends up ass-deep in character dissection and plot exposition. @squad51goals @its-skadi

In this installment, we talk about seasons, changes, and things to celebrate.

December darkens the days, and sharpens the nights. There is frost every morning, and the sun is a pale consumptive, waking feebly and slipping weakly into evening. The potbelly stove in the dorm is always burning, always someone up in the night to tend it, every hour. The lads spend a productive few hours one off day re-arranging their beds, recaulking the windows, and hanging curtains. When Josiah asks what they are up to, they explain the lads at the ends of the rows have been getting cold in the night, and they are trying to fix it up so that either everyone is warm, or everyone is cold.

"You mind, Captain?" Jules Menlo asks. He and Bertram Cochrane have taken up the lead, since Antoine and Ellis left for the City. They are raw to it, but they are learning yet.

"Not at all, boys, carry on."

Josiah is pleased with them. Neat and natty rows of beds can go to hell, the lads are making a fine hearth for themselves. They make sure to vent it properly, and Lufty nods approvingly at their work - a house inside of a house, a canvas-flanked beast breathing and snoring in the wind-snipped nights. Josiah only scolds them once, when he catches Davey at three in the morning carrying wood in for the stove. Sure, he is wrapped up tight as a beetle in a sack of flour, but Josiah reminds them that he's just a boy, yet, and needs his rest.

Young Cleary had stumbled a while, the days after Antoine and Ellis were graduated. Eddy had given him a scorcher of a talk for forgetting to include Davey in the proceedings, and he deserved it. That responsibility is still so new and giddy to him - where now, he can remember his own graduation, and think well on it, and not always be so bitter - and he had left the boy bereft. Fool that he is. Even Silky would've cuffed him for it.

My true friend Silky, he writes, one glassy morning when the sun had lost the strength to lift the frost from the grass, you would not believe me or maybe you would. Do you remember the day the bell sounded for us, at breakfast? In the good cheer of sending my lads to the city, I left out the boy who needs us most, our young Cleary. Your god, my friend, would smote me off the earth. It was a terrible mistake, for I frightened him so badly. I had to set him down later in the day and explain all the proceedings and the ceremony. I am not yet sure he forgives me. I am not sure I deserve it. Here he is, a boy who has already lost one family, and I am to take another from him. You can be sure Eddy let me have it.

yours irresponsibly, Birchy

In those following days, after Antoine and Ellis depart on the train from Troy, his heart aches, something like a tooth you want to forget, something a body can't escape from. The long hallway is there in his dreams, in the boy's dreams, and now he hears the piano, and the distant laughter. He smells the books in the study. When he wakes, he feels the far-off gaze of a man much his senior, cool-eyed but in such a way as a lake when the summer days grow taut about the city streets. An expectant look, a waiting. Far off down that hallway, as far from the boy now as the Bronx for him, as the dorm he once sweat out his sear in. He would want to look away, as the village folks and the oakbellies look at his scars and his brace.

He knows that hallway, and that's just the trouble, for young Cleary has walked it alone, trailing his fingers along the green wallpaper, and Josiah, trembling for the thought of the beam waiting in the ceiling, has not followed. Coward, he thinks. To let the child walk his hallway and stumble, smoke-wrecked, to his wide lawn, alone. A one-legged and half-hearted coward. Davey looks at him askance often in those following days - doesn't come to read with him or practice his Latin, doesn't follow the lads out on their drills no matter how they coax him. He walks down the pathway past the brambles and into the woods, his too-large coat down past his knees and his collar up so high it leaves just his dark curls tumbling out in the sharp wind, and when he comes in for dinner, he is quiet and small among the lads.

It is one of those long, weary twilights when the winter rattles like dry bones, and his leg aches. He is fixing the ledger, making notes, and Silky's reply is on the edge of the desk. Davey slips in so quietly he only hears it with his sear, so startlingly that Josiah leaves a blot on the end of a row.

"Capper?"

He puts his pen down and smiles like he imagines Silky would at an Antoine or an Ellis. Truth to say, he has missed the boy, even the sometimes frantic, fledgling winging of his sear. He is far too young to grieve such an emptiness as that long, black hallway and the smoke-torn sky.

"May I ask a question?"

Times, the boy's genteel raising surfaces, softly like the wave on the shore. Times, as now, he holds his cap in his hands as if he's in a holy place, and his eyes are the shyness of moss on a shadowed ledge.

"Course. Always."

"Eddy said firemen don't take holidays."

"Come sit. What're you onto?"

"It's almost Dawning Days, that's all..."

"Oh, ghosts above, Davey - " Josiah has to laugh. " - no, that's not how Eddy meant it. He only meant that fires and accidents and all our work, it can happen any time."

Davey sits in one of the clutter of chairs in Josiah's office, kicking his legs, the gesture of a younger boy, an apologetic sort of gesture.

"I don't mean to laugh, young Cleary, but we do know the Dawning Days."

From the sundown on solstice to daybreak on New Year's - the time of spirits, the time of the seasons shifting, the time to do good and remember that the sun is only resting for a grand debut. The oakbellies throw a grand to-do at New Year's, all the officers invited to come at their most festive. He has not gone - and the oakbellies are likely to be glad of it, he figures, for he would not cut such a charming figure in his full dress and a tin of polish on his leg. They would, as they did at his promotion, shuffle and swallow hotly above their stiff collars. He would probably stand the whole night out of pride and spend the week after in bed. Perhaps it would be worth it.

"Do you have a party?"

"As many as we can."

"And lights?"

"As many as the sills will hold. The lights and the cups left out for the ghosts. Eddy has probably got another little tree to plant - you know, that stand of maple by the stables, that's his handiwork."

Davey is looking as delighted as Josiah has ever seen him. His eyes are younger, now. He is more the boy that he must have been in golden days, before his long dark hallway.

"And you already know Bertram and his fiddle, and save us all, we've heard the lads sing."

"They taught me the fireman's song." Davey grips the chair, and then pauses, as if lost of a sudden. "Lyddie would've liked that song, I suppose. Mother scolded her because she called the music our teacher brought her 'musty old tunes'."

From far away, in the marrow of his bones, Josiah feels the soft carpet of the parlor under his shoes. Dark walnut bookshelves and rich, salmon-colored wallpaper embossed with an intricate pattern, the sort of thing a child would run their fingers over. The books are less a rainbow than a late-summer forest, greens and smatterings of red and orange. The girl playing the piano, with the bow in her hair, likes to spin cleverly from the plodding strains of an old mass to the bright chirps of ragtime and dance. The brother laughs.

The oak floors in their dormitory had what seemed to be a century of wax and polish creating glistening currents in the low lamplight. They could have greased the bedsprings with a gallon of lard per man and the damned things would've screamed like witches every time a man so much as thought of rolling over. A cold night outside, and a warm hearth within, each coat and helmet hung on its hook, each woolen blanket tucked neatly around each mattress corner. The brothers are singing and the brothers are laughing.

"Antoine wrote me a letter," Davey says, quietly. "He says he got his sear." Davey bites his lip. "He says everybody looked after him, and his captain Jack Prince gave him a pocketwatch. Does it hurt so much, always?"

"Every man is different. It's a hard hand of days. But we look after each other." "I don't remember, exactly. I hurt so long, I was in bed and the lady wanted to call the doctor, I think. I hurt so long, and then - then it just felt like - " Davey leans forward, puts his arms on the desk and his head in his arms and sighs. Muffled, he whispers, "I felt like - "

Like wandering, Josiah thinks. That strange stillness when the fever breaks, before you come around to your mates watching over you, before you pull yourself out of your bed weak and stunned and brand-new on foal's legs. A fresh and open field, the shaded place where the last dollop of snow lives nearly into June.

"I know," Josiah murmurs, and lays his hand - his scarred hand - on young Cleary's shoulder. "I do know, son, I do."

"I wished Antoine didn't have to hurt that way. Or Ellis. Or Jules or Betram." "I dunno what it was like - " Josiah sighs. " - but for me, I had my mates around, and my pal, we got it together. I never would've got through it, without him."

"Thomas."

Josiah starts.

"Sorry, Capper. I read it on the letter. Eddy talked about him once, too."

"Silky."

"Capper?"

"Silky. That's what we called Thomas."

"Why?"

"I don't remember, really."

"What's he like?"

"Oh," Josiah says. "I'll tell you. You'd like him a sight better than me - for one thing, he's got two entire good legs and he could take you down to the fish pond. Second - "

Davey is kicking his legs again, scuffing the toes of his boots on the wooden floor.

"Well, I'll tell you. The day I met him, here at Wynantskill, he very nearly ran me down with a horse, a big old dapple grey gelding we called Chubby..."

Davey leans on his hands.

Silky's letter, half-unfolded, is by his elbow. I never really got the brothers' whole forgiveness bit, it says, but I do reckon it's a little bit like when you turn over the ash of a building, and you find a little green thing growing underneath.

#decofire #decofiremen #yes I realize that's an 11 day span #and yes sometimes that's an eleven day food alcohol and music bender #but you also get plants

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timeless-hollywood-classics · 4 years

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Clara Lou Sheridan (February 21, 1915 – January 21, 1967), known professionally as Ann Sheridan, was an American actress and singer. She worked regularly from 1934 until her death, first in film and later in television. Notable roles include San Quentin (1937) with Pat O'Brien and Humphrey Bogart, Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) with James Cagney and Bogart, They Drive by Night (1940) with George Raft and Bogart, The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942) with Monty Woolley, Kings Row (1942) with Ronald Reagan, Nora Prentiss (1947), and I Was a Male War Bride (1949) with Cary Grant.

Born in Denton, Texas, on February 21, 1915, Clara Lou Sheridan was the daughter of G.W. Sheridan and Lula Stewart Warren Sheridan. According to Sheridan, her father was a great-great-nephew of Civil War Union general Philip Sheridan. She had a sister, Pauline.

She was active in dramatics at Denton High School and at North Texas State Teachers College. She also sang with the college's stage band.

In 1932, she was a student at North Texas State Teachers College when her sister sent a photograph of her to Paramount Pictures. She subsequently entered and won a beauty contest, with part of her prize being a bit part in a Paramount film, The Search for Beauty. She left college to pursue a career in Hollywood.

After making her film debut in 1934, at 19, in Search for Beauty, she played uncredited bit parts in Paramount films for the next two years, starting at $75 a week (equivalent to $1,400 in 2019).

She can be glimpsed in Bolero (1934), Come On Marines! (1934) (billed as "Clara Lou Sheridan"), Murder at the Vanities (1934), Shoot the Works (1934), Kiss and Make-Up (1934), The Notorious Sophie Lang (1934), College Rhythm (1934) (directed by Norman Taurog whom Sheridan admired), Ladies Should Listen (1934), You Belong to Me (1934), Wagon Wheels (1934), The Lemon Drop Kid (1934), Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch (1934), Ready for Love (1934), Limehouse Blues (1934), and One Hour Late (1934).

Sheridan worked with Paramount's drama coach Nina Mouise and performed plays on the lot with fellow contractees, including The Milky Way and The Pursuit of Happiness. When she did The Milky Way, she played a character called Ann and the Paramount front office decided to change her name to "Ann".

Sheridan had a part in Behold My Wife! (1934), which she got at the behest of director Mitchell Leisen, who was a friend. She had two good scenes, one in which her character had to commit suicide. Sheridan attributed Paramount's keeping her for two years to this role.

She followed it with Enter Madame (1935), Home on the Range (1935), and Rumba (1935).

Sheridan's first lead came in Car 99 (1935) with Fred MacMurray. She was in Rocky Mountain Mystery (1935), a Randolph Scott Western. "No acting, it was just playing the lead, that's all", she later said.

She then appeared in Mississippi (1935) with Bing Crosby and W. C. Fields, The Glass Key (1935) with George Raft, and (having one line) The Crusades (1935) with Loretta Young. Paramount lent her out to Talisman, a small production company, to makeThe Red Blood of Courage (1935) with Kermit Maynard. After this, Paramount declined to take up her option.

Sheridan did one film at Universal, Fighting Youth (1935), and then signed a contract with Warner Bros. in 1936.

Sheridan's career prospects began to improve. Her early films for Warner Bros. included Sing Me a Love Song (1936); Black Legion (1937) with Humphrey Bogart; The Great O'Malley (1937) with Pat O'Brien and Bogart, her first real break; San Quentin (1937), with O'Brien and Bogart, singing for the first time in a film; and Wine, Women and Horses (1937) with Barton MacLane.

Sheridan moved into B picture leads: The Footloose Heiress (1937); Alcatraz Island (1937) with John Litel; and She Loved a Fireman (1937) with Dick Foran for director John Farrow. She was a lead in The Patient in Room 18 (1937) and its sequel Mystery House (1938). Sheridan was in Little Miss Thoroughbred (1938) with Litel for Farrow and supported Dick Powell in Cowboy from Brooklyn (1938).

Universal borrowed her for a support role in Letter of Introduction (1938) at the behest of director John M. Stahl. For Farrow, she was in Broadway Musketeers (1938), a remake of Three on a Match (1932).

Sheridan's notices in Letter of Introduction impressed Warner Bros. executives. "Oomph" was described as "a certain indefinable something that commands male interest." and she began to get roles in A pictures, starting with Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), wherein she played James Cagney's love interest; Bogart, O'Brien and the Dead End Kids had supporting roles. The film was a big hit and critically acclaimed.

Sheridan was reunited with the Dead End Kids in They Made Me a Criminal (1938) starring John Garfield. She was third-billed in the Western Dodge City (1939), playing a saloon owner opposite Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland. The film was another notable success.

In March 1939, Warner Bros. announced Sheridan had been voted by a committee of 25 men as the actress with the most "oomph" in America.

She received as many as 250 marriage proposals from fans in a single week. Tagged "The Oomph Girl"—a sobriquet which she reportedly loathed —Sheridan was a popular pin-up girl in the early 1940s. (On the other hand, a February 25, 1940, news story distributed by the Associated Press reported that Sheridan no longer "bemoaned the 'oomph' tag." She continued, "But I'm sorry now. I know if it hadn't been for 'oomph' I'd probably still be in the chorus.")

Sheridan co-starred with Dick Powell in Naughty but Nice (1939) and played a wacky heiress in Winter Carnival (1939).

She was top billed in Indianapolis Speedway (1939) with O'Brien and Angels Wash Their Faces (1939) with O'Brien, the Dead End Kids and Ronald Reagan. Castle on the Hudson (1940) put her opposite Garfield and O'Brien.

Sheridan's first real starring vehicle was It All Came True (1940), a musical comedy co starring Bogart and Jeffrey Lynn. She introduced the song "Angel in Disguise".

Sheridan and Cagney were reunited in Torrid Zone (1940) with O'Brien in support. She was with George Raft, Bogart and Ida Lupino in They Drive by Night (1940), a trucking melodrama. Sheridan was back with Cagney for City for Conquest (1941) and then made Honeymoon for Three (1941), a comedy with George Brent.

Sheridan did two lighter films: Navy Blues (1941), a musical comedy, and The Man Who Came to Dinner (1941), wherein she played a character modeled on Gertrude Lawrence. She then made Kings Row (1942), in which she received top billing playing opposite Ronald Reagan, Robert Cummings, and Betty Field. It was a huge success and one of Sheridan's most memorable films.

Sheridan and Reagan were reunited for Juke Girl (1942). She was in the war film Wings for the Eagle (1942) and made a comedy with Jack Benny, George Washington Slept Here (1943). She played a Norwegian resistance fighter in Edge of Darkness (1943) with Errol Flynn and was one of the many Warners stars who had cameos in Thank Your Lucky Stars (1943).

She was the heroine of a novel, Ann Sheridan and the Sign of the Sphinx, written by Kathryn Heisenfelt and published by Whitman Publishing Company in 1943. While the heroine of the story was identified as a famous actress, the stories were entirely fictitious. The story was probably written for a young teenaged audience and is reminiscent of the adventures of Nancy Drew. It is part of a series known as "Whitman Authorized Editions", 16 books published between 1941 and 1947 that always featured a film actress as heroine.

Sheridan was given the lead in the musical Shine On, Harvest Moon (1944), playing Nora Bayes, opposite Dennis Morgan. She was in a comedy The Doughgirls (1944).

Sheridan was absent from screens for over a year, touring with the USO to perform in front of the troops as far afield as China. She returned in One More Tomorrow (1946) with Morgan. She had an excellent role in the noir Nora Prentiss (1947), which was a hit. It was followed by The Unfaithful (1948), a popular remake of The Letter, and Silver River (1948), a Western melodrama with Errol Flynn.

Leo McCarey borrowed her to support Gary Cooper in Good Sam (1948). She was meant to star in Flamingo Road. She then left Warner Bros., saying: "I wasn't at all satisfied with the scripts they offered me."

Her role in I Was a Male War Bride (1949), directed by Howard Hawks and co-starring Cary Grant, was another success. In 1950, she appeared on the ABC musical television series Stop the Music.

She made Stella (1950), a comedy with Victor Mature at Fox.

In April 1949, she announced she wanted to produce Second Lady, a film based on a story by Eleanor Griffin. She was going to make Carriage Entrance at RKO. They fired her and Sheridan sued for $250,000.

Sheridan made Woman on the Run (1950), a noir, which she did produce. She wanted to make a film called Her Secret Diary.

Woman on the Run was distributed by Universal, and Sheridan signed a contract with that studio. While there, she made Steel Town (1952), Just Across the Street (1952), and Take Me to Town (1953), a comedy directed by Douglas Sirk.

Sheridan supported Glenn Ford in Appointment in Honduras (1953), directed by Jacques Tourneur. She appeared opposite Steve Cochran in Come Next Spring (1956) and was one of several stars in MGM's The Opposite Sex (1956). Her last film, The Woman and the Hunter, was shot in Africa.

She went to New York to appear in a Broadway show, but it did not make it to Broadway.

She did stage tours of Kind Sir (1958) and Odd Man In (1959), and The Time of Your Life at the Brussels World Fair in 1958. In all three shows, she acted with Scott McKay, whom she later married.

In 1962, she played the lead in "The Mavis Grant Story" on the Western series Wagon Train.

In the mid-1960s, Sheridan appeared on the NBC soap opera Another World.

Her final work was a TV series of her own, a comedy Western entitled Pistols 'n' Petticoats, which was filmed during the year before her death and was broadcast on CBS on Saturday nights. The 19th episode of the series, "Beware the Hangman", aired, as scheduled, on the same day that she died.

For her contributions to the motion picture industry, Ann Sheridan has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 7024 Hollywood Boulevard.

Sheridan married actor Edward Norris August 16, 1936, in Ensenada, Mexico. They separated a year later and divorced in 1939. On January 5, 1942, she married fellow Warner Bros. star George Brent, who co-starred with her in Honeymoon for Three (1941). They divorced exactly one year later. Following her divorce from Brent, she had a long-term relationship with publicist Steve Hannagan, that lasted until his death in 1953. Hannagan's estate bequeathed Miss Sheridan $218,399 ($2.1 million in current dollars). On June 5, 1966, she married actor Scott McKay, who was with her when she died, six months later.

In 1966, Sheridan began starring in a new television series, a Western-themed comedy called Pistols 'n' Petticoats. She became ill during the filming and died of gastroesophageal cancer with massive liver metastases at age 51 on January 21, 1967, in Los Angeles. She was cremated and her ashes were stored at the Chapel of the Pines Crematory in Los Angeles until they were interred in a niche in the Chapel Columbarium at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery in 2005.

#ann sheridan #classic movie stars #golden age of hollywood #old hollywood

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marryat92 · 5 years

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I want to do a Dr. Macallan vs. Dr. Maturin comparison, but WHOOPS I only know Stephen Maturin’s characterization from the Master and Commander movie (and here’s a gif of Paul Bettany looking aghast at my ignorance.)

Obviously Maturin is the more developed and fully realized character: he plays a major role in 20 novels by Patrick O'Brian (and one unfinished novel.) Whereas the good Doctor “Marryat is bad at giving his characters first names” Macallan plays a part in one of Captain Marryat’s roughest works, The King’s Own. (Protip: if you are still messed up over the death of your 7-year-old son, DO NOT try to make him the main character of your next book.)

Here’s Macallan’s introduction:

The surgeon, whose name was Macallan, was also most deservedly a great favourite with Captain M_____; indeed there was a friendship between them, grown out of long acquaintance with each other’s worth, inconsistent with, and unusual, in a service where the almost despotic power of the superior renders the intimacy of the inferior similar to smoothing with your hand the paw of the lion, whose fangs, in a moment of caprice, may be darted into your flesh. He was a slight, spare man, of about thirty-five years of age, and had graduated and received his diploma at Edinburgh, —an unusual circumstance at that period, although the education in the service was so defective that the medical officers were generally the best informed in the ship. But he was more than the above; he was a naturalist, a man of profound research, and well informed upon most points—of an amiable and gentle disposition, and a sincere Christian.

Doctor Macallan’s friend and confidant, the suspiciously named “Captain M_____,” can only be described as a hybrid of Lord Cochrane and Frederick Marryat. There’s a lot of Cochrane in him, like all of Marryat’s “good” captains, but he shares a number of biographical details and traits with Marryat and takes on a fatherly role to the character based on Marryat’s own son. (Which brings up the thought: if Maturin owes something to Macallan, is there a little bit of Captain Marryat along with the Cochrane in Jack Aubrey?)

When Master and Commander travels to the Galápagos Islands, to the delight of the naturalist Maturin, I felt that it was a way of evoking Darwin’s famous voyage of decades later in the minds of the audience. It has the effect of making Maturin seem ahead of his time, a proto-Darwin, without actually depicting anything anachronistic on screen. Macallan, in contrast, has a few beliefs that are literally antediluvian. While lecturing a young charge on natural history he waxes poetic on unchanging rocks and mountains that have stood “since the creation of the world […] fixed by the Almighty architect, to remain till time shall be no more” and adds that the seas cover the ruins of a wicked former world thanks to the Biblical flood. (So much for plate tectonics.)

Marryat, himself a naturalist who named a genus of sea snails, takes care to further limit Macallan’s knowledge to the very early 19th century. When Macallan describes Ianthina fragilis as the only species of its type to live on the open ocean, Marryat adds in a footnote: “I am aware that there are two or three other pelagic shells, but, at the time of this narrative, they were not known.”

I was reminded constantly of Paul Bettany’s performance as Stephen Maturin in Dr. Macallan’s mannerisms and personality. Pompous and verbose, Macallan loves to infodump to uneducated and skeptical sailors (who take issue with Macallan’s description of coral as an animal), he demands detours to collect animal and mineral specimens, and he gets into a few physical scrapes to comic effect. Macallan slips on seaweed and falls into the ocean while passionately rhapsodizing on the glory of the natural world, and later, “absorbed in his scientific pursuits,” he unwisely dismounts from an elephant by sliding down the animal’s side—"he succeeded in reaching the ground, not exactly on his feet."

#master and commander #stephen maturin #patrick o'brian #captain marryat #the king's own #macallan #age of sail #frederick marryat #lord cochrane

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marginalgloss · 5 years

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the penknife through the boards

‘...days, even weeks later, he was sitting on the grey pebbles of an island, one of the innumerable cold grey Chonos islands, sullenly training his glass not on any wildly exotic migrant but the commonplace resident blackish (but white-footed) oyster-catcher wading about in search of its living. Farther along there was another, a lacklustre female; and neither betrayed the slightest interest in the other: clearly this was not their breeding season, whatever the snipe might think...He fixed it with his telescope, and there indeed was Jacob looking at him through another and making signs – untimely mirth? Whatever the signs were they were very soon lost as the brig rounded yet another great sea-worn cliff in the direction of Surprise, and Stephen’s attention was at once seized by a very noble sight – two black-necked swans flying steadily south, quite low over the water, so low that he could hear the rhythmic beating of their wings. ‘I cannot just sit here, watching pale-footed oyster-catchers,’ said Maturin aloud. ‘But what other course is open to me?’’

Blue at the Mizzen is the last book that Patrick O’Brian finished before he died in 2000, aged 85. There would be another unfinished novel published posthumously but, having worked my way slowly through this series, I don’t feel I need to read it. By all accounts it ends mid-sentence; I doubt it would contribute much in the way of what is fashionably called closure. As it stands this final book ends on a pleasingly optimistic chord. But there is nothing final about it, no sense of an ending close at hand. The writer Jo Walton has written an excellent series of short blogs on this series, and in her assessment of this one she mentions how it seems like O’Brian would have gone on writing this series as long as he drew breath. It’s hard to disagree.

With Napoleon out of the picture, the plot here is effectively a fictionalised re-telling of another episode from the life of Lord Cochrane, namely his role in the fight for independence of Peru, and the creation of the Peruvian navy. Earlier novels have mentioned this for some time, and the politics of it are quite complicated, but for the reader it is largely an excuse for an epic transatlantic sea voyage from Britain all the way to the Pacific. By this stage O’Brian’s descriptive writing is not what it was, nor is his pacing, but it’s solid, compelling stuff. The gentle wash of his long sentences, with their curious pedantry, nested sub-clauses and old-fashioned elegance, is never less than charming.

Even at this late stage, the author is setting up characters to play a greater role in future instalments (though of course there would be none). Christine Wood returns to Maturin’s attention and affection, and there is Horatio Hanson, the son of a Duke who is reluctantly accepted by Aubrey as a midshipman. Hanson redeems himself on a number of occasions, almost to the degree of being set up by the author as a sort of apprentice to Aubrey. There’s even some nice scenes back in England with Sarah and Emily where it seems inevitable that we must return to them at some stage to witness another stage in their lives. Here, more so than in the preceding novels, O’Brian really seems to be taking an interest in the younger members of his cast of characters.

It ends with something of a bang. There’s a big battle, and Aubrey is quite badly wounded in the melee. In fact he comes out of it far worse than in any recent confrontation. But once word of his exploits reaches home, his dream is granted, or at least he achieves that measure of security which he has long craved: he is made a proper admiral. Thus, I imagine, he sails home a hero. (That is assuming Jack survives his wounds. In another version of this story that happens only in my mind, he dies on the long journey home. But I can’t imagine O’Brian ever countenancing such a thing.)

Maturin has done all right, too; Christine Wood might have refused his initial proposal of marriage, but she does so in such a way that seems to leave it an open question. I imagine a future in which they live together in a sort of celibate, platonic ideal of more-than-friendship, residing perhaps in a quiet wing of the greater Aubrey household. There is a very striking sequence in which Maturin believes he sees a vision of Christine, while riding alone in South America:

‘On the next stretch they passed through an invisible barrier into a thinner, cooler air, and there were his – not illusions: perceptions might be the better word – of Christine again, clearer and sharper now, particularly as she moved across a dark wall of rock. A tall, straight, lithe figure, walking easily and well: he remembered with the utmost clarity how, when she was reading or playing music or training her glass on a bird, or merely reflecting, she would be entirely apart, remote, self-contained; and then how she would be wholly with him when he moved or spoke. Two strikingly different beings; and the delight in her company, as he delighted even in the memory of it, seemed to him essential happiness, fulfilment. Of course he was a man, quite markedly so, and he would have liked to know her physically: but that was secondary, a very remote stirring compared with gazing at this phantasm – this now remarkably clear and sharply-defined phantasm against the rock-face.’

This passage also serves as a fine summary of the relationship between Jack and Stephen. Two strikingly different beings delighting in one another’s company – each entirely apart, alone, yet coming together in movement and speech. This is about as intimate as people can ever get in O’Brian’s world.

***

I’ve now written something about all of these novels. (Unfortunately tumblr does not provide me with a convenient way to list them, but you can find all the pieces by clicking on this tag.) Summarising them turns out to be easy, in a way, because they are so continuous that after a while one blends into the next. They are so very much part of a greater whole that in a very real sense they might as well be part of a single endless manuscript. The final part of it might have been lost but that detracts little from what remains.

These novels are timeless in the sense that when you read them you forget the order in which they were written. There are machinations of plot, but these are mostly incidental. Nothing is allowed to disturb the beautiful essential routine of naval life in the early nineteenth century. Bacon and eggs and toast for breakfast, and coffee. The practice of gunnery in the afternoons, at captain’s expense. Port after dinner and toasted cheese in a silver dish, followed by a duet between cello and violin. There is something comforting about all this. The books are formed around a conservative vision of life which seems alien to life in the twenty-first century. It might even have seemed alien to most people in the nineteenth century. You could say with confidence that these books belong to no time at all.

It is the opposite to when we call something ‘dated’. When we say something is dated, we mean we notice the cultural residue of the time it was made in the details of its production. Almost all films and popular music are dated because they are reliant on era-specific technology as a means of reproduction. Most novels are also dated, for different reasons. O’Brian’s books are not dated. The first book was published in 1969, and the last book was published in 1999, and you would never know this from reading them. There’s no crack in the text against which we can press ourselves to glimpse the twentieth century drifting by.

Perhaps there’s a pedantic argument that says this cannot be the case. Perhaps we can find literary techniques at work in these books that would have been totally alien to a reader in the Napoleonic era. This may well be true. But what I mean to say is that these books do better than most in allowing the author to entirely disappear within them. Better to say, in fact, that the books themselves — all twenty-odd of them — speak with a singular voice best ascribed to the books, and not the author. It is as though they wrote themselves until one day they stopped.

But of course they didn’t really write themselves. In the last few years of his life certain facts about O’Brian came to light that were, at best, embarrassing; at worst, a minor scandal. We learned that he left (or abandoned) his first wife and child while the latter suffered from a disorder of the spine. He may have lied about being an intelligence agent and he may have lied about his sailing experience, or at least his did nothing to correct those misapprehensions amongst his fans. His name was not even O’Brian; his Irish ancestry was, apparently, a convenient fiction. Little of this is awful enough to be placed beyond the category of ordinary human failings, though much of it seems strange, or even cruel. But once known it is difficult to forget about. And if Master and Commander was published tomorrow it seems inconceivable that the same author could escape similar scrutiny for so long.

Today we expect artists to be good people. We need them to be exemplars of quality. We need to admire them. Our expectations for them are higher than they are for politicians or other public figures. It used to be the other way around: the politician would be crucified in the press for cheating on his wife, while artists could sleep with whomever and ingest whatever in the name of expanding the boundaries of the possible. Now, we already expect the worst of politicians. We expect them to lie, to cheat, and even to misbehave in their personal lives, perhaps because we have grown accustomed to accepting the line between personal and professional conduct. But the artist must be always at work. And we want them to be everything we can’t be: happy, secure, modest, successful. With moments of excitement, perhaps, but for the most part we want them to be dependable, capable, calm. We want them to be honest.

All of this is what is so appealing in O’Brian’s novels. Theirs is a vision of a world at work which is also, somehow, a work at rest. It is a very old English vision: the peasant in his field, the craftsman in his shop, the soldier at the gates, and the lord in his tower. All capable, calm, and happy in their understanding of what the world requires of them and how they must relate to it. The ideal mood is of things ticking over under the oversight of a supremely competent leader. An authoritarian? Well, perhaps. Democracy is certainly out of it; revolutionaries and radicals of all kinds are never to be trusted in these books. How much better to be ruled by a benevolent king of some sort. Rule by consent, of course, but it must be a rigid, unspoken sort of consent.

There is something wonderfully comforting about all of this. To give yourself over to someone else — to put all your trust in your own well-being in the judgement of that person — this is what these characters do for one another. The ship is only the symbol of all that: the thing which endures through ingenuity, in spite of everything, even though it is so desperately fragile. There’s a line somewhere in those books where Maturin remarks that he feels safe within the thick timbers of the HMS Surprise, and a seaman laughs, and says that there are parts of the Surprise so thin you could push a penknife through the boards and find the ocean. It is a haunting image, but a resonant one. The boards are always so thin.

#books #patrick o'brian #blue at the mizzen

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spaciousreasoning · 3 years

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Further Fiction

Jack’s introduction to his new life continues over lunch.

Cochran looked at his watch. “What say you and I go grab a bite to eat, Jack? Hungry? There’s this little lonchería over on Calle Ochoa that serves excellent birria. Ever had birria, Jack?”

Birria, Jack discovered after a ten-minute stroll that included crossing the international border, was shredded beef in a stock heavily seasoned with chili, with chopped lettuce and onions stirred in just before serving. Bowls of salsa fresca on each of the tables in the tiny space allowed patrons to spice up their bowls even further. The soup was served with a warm pile of corn tortillas, and Cochran ordered Bohemias to go with the meal. Jack was an immediate fan of both the cerveza and the birria.

Tucked into a small storefront around the corner from a side street a couple of blocks on the wrong side of the railroad tracks, the lonchería did not attract a tourist clientele. But there were Anglo faces among those crowded at the dozen tables, and some of them exchanged greetings with Cochran. A large man with a red face and a mottled, bulbous nose — as well as a few greasy, red birria stains on his white guayabera — stopped by the table and was introduced as George Wheeler, the executive director of the Chamber of Commerce in San Pedro. He made a big show of welcoming Jack and invited him to stop by for a basket of the cheap items that businesses give away to newcomers.

After a second bowl and a second bottle for each of them, Cochran led Jack back to the border crossing by a route that took them along a couple of blocks popular with tourists, and with the shopkeepers and other businessmen who made their livings off of tourists. Cochran ignored most of the come-ons, generally responding with a quiet but firm, “No, gracias.” But he dug into his pocket for some change to drop in the hand of a couple of dirty, raggedy children who approached them selling chicle. The gum went into the next trashcan they passed.

“Mexico is a beautiful, wonderful country in so many ways,” Cochran said, as they finally passed through into the United States under the watchful eye of the Border Patrol agents and turned toward the newspaper office. “Much like our country. And, much like our country, she leaves a lot to be desired. Entiendes?”

“Sí, entiendo.”

Cochran slowed as the two approached the Border Reporter offices, a low, long building that sat across a street from the tall fence that served as the international border. Jack matched his pace and turned his head to look at the older man.

“How soon can we get you down here, Jack? I’d love for you to sit down at a desk now and start working, but I know you’ve got to wrap things up in Flagstaff and move your entire life down here.”

“There’s not that much to wrap up or move,” Jack said, mentally counting off a few items before he spoke again. “I’m a mostly unemployed bachelor living in a furnished efficiency apartment at the end of a school year. The radio station doesn’t really need any notice, my rent is month-to-month. The largest thing I own is a stereo, and all my possessions will fit in the bed of my truck. If I drive up today, I can be back down Sunday and ready to work on Monday morning.”

Cochran laughed. “Make sure you’re giving yourself enough time, Jack, because I’ll hold you to it.”

“I’ve gotten used to moving around the last ten years or so. Life in the military, on the road, in college. I’ve learned not to get settled.”

They stopped in the newspaper’s parking lot. Across the street, beyond the fence, several young Mexican children played, shouting and laughing. A dog barked somewhere nearby. There was a dull roar of traffic from the nearby highway.

“Well, we want you to get settled here, Jack. We want you to stay and be happy. We want you to help us produce a good newspaper. When can you start?”

Cochran stuck out his hand. Jack took it.

“Thanks, Abe. I’ll be here bright and early Monday morning.”

“See that you do. Now come on in here and let’s see if we can do something about some temporary lodgings for you. Can’t have you living on the streets down here.”

They walked in the front door and Cochran stopped at the receptionist’s desk.

“Maria, let me officially introduce you to our new reporter, John Martin, though we’ll call him ‘Jack’ around here. Do you know if we’ve still got any comps with that motel? We need to find Jack a place to stay for about a week, starting next… When? Sunday night you’ll be here? Sunday night. Through Saturday, then. That ought to give a bachelor time to scope out some simple living arrangements somewhere.”

Maria was flipping through several folders in the file drawer in her desk, finally pulling one of them out and opening it on her desk. She took the top page and handed it to Cochran, who looked it over and handed it back.

“Thanks, yes, that will do. Call Enrique and let him know. Put it in Jack’s name, please. Jack, what time do you think you’ll get in? By eight or nine? Good. Maria will make arrangements with the motel. Get directions from her and then I’ll see you on Monday.”

They shook hands again.

“Thanks, Abe. I’ll be here.”

Maria smiled at Jack as she dialed the number, then she spoke to a couple of people on the other end, including Enrique, and finally hung up.

“It’s the Motel Coronado, just along Main Street the other side of City Hall. They’ll have a room with your name on it. Here’s the address and phone number.” She was scribbling on a piece of paper. “Abe’s number’s on here, too, just in case. And welcome to the Border Reporter.”

She pushed the scrap of paper toward Jack and held up her hand. Jack shook her hand and then folded the paper and stuck it in his shirt pocket.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it. How long have you been here?”

“At the paper or…?”

“Well…” He looked at his watch. “I don’t have time for your life story right now, but–”

She laughed. “You’ll fit in well here, you know. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” he said again, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll be glad to hear your life story when I get back.”

“See you Monday morning,” Maria said as Jack turned to walk out the door. “We open the front office at nine o’clock, but someone from editorial is always here before that, usually no later than eight o’clock.”

“See you on Monday, then.”

#fiction

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writing-good-vibes · 3 years

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brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: marriage

marriage isn't for everyone but if you did tie the knot, there is no way it wouldn't be a wild ride with all of them, one way or another. warning for smut (mild).

charles lee ray

no one could ever accuse this man of being a romantic

(except he really, really is)

legally he doesn't care if you get married or not

but you suggest it first (not a proposal) and you both mutually agree to it

then he sort of proposes (with a ring and flowers) after you've already agreed

if you want a legal marriage it would have to be before any of his murders are he is known to the police

(he's already known for petty crime but getting married would really blow his cover if he's already a wanted murderer)

you go to the nearest courthouse and have a bare minimum ceremony

he wears the nicest suit he already owns

and you go out and get a white dress that you could wear again to a bar

you sign the papers

then you consummate your love in the ladies toilets

whether you go on honeymoon depends on how much money you have at the time

either you go to a tacky wedding motel or you stay in and don't leave the apartment for a week

either way you're having a lot of sex

like seriously

jack dante

it's hard work to get him to actually go through with the wedding

he is actually the one to propose to you

after sex of course

"babe, we should like, get hitched"

he means it, he does, but maybe in a more metaphorical way??

it takes some nagging but you finally get him to go down to the courthouse with you

there is definitely a legal/financial aspect of your marriage

like he may be the wild card employee but he gets paid ludicrously well for everything he contributes to the company (and to try and keep a little bit under control)

if something happened to him (and he has no doubt one day bob might just have him bumped off) he may as well give everything to you, there's no one else for it to go to

neither of you dress up for the ceremony

but you do buy some tacky bridal lingerie to wear underneath

another bare minimum ceremony

it's not your first rodeo doing it in a public restroom

it's almost romantic, a repeat of your first time

the white lacy panties are surprisingly very appreciated

you have to convince him to move back to his old apartment together now that you're married instead of hiding away at CHAANK

he honestly probably forgets you're even married until you bring it up

billy bibbit

he proposes to you

one day while you're at home on a sunday afternoon

lay together on the couch while you read

"h-hey, i h-h-have sssomething to a-ask you"

his stutters gets a tiny bit worse and you worry something is up

"l-l-listen, I-I rrreally love y-you a-a-a-and I-" he has to pause and collect himself

but you already know what he's going to ask and you can't keep from smiling

"w-will you m-m-mmmarry me?"

you throw your book aside and throw your arms around him

"yes! yes, of course I will billy!"

billy is a good christian boy so you have a good christian church wedding (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

it's a very small wedding

only your favourite family members and closest friends come

same with billy

he feels incredibly guilty for not inviting his mother, but he hasn't seen her since he finally discharged himself from the hospital

you reassured him and remind him that this is the start of your lives together

he looks so dapper in his suit

you help him pick it out

he insists he doesn't want to see your dress until the big day

he cries when he sees you walk up the aisle

loves calling you his wife, and you calling him husband makes him feel wanted

puts your wedding photo in every room and carries it around in his wallet

sheriff brackett

he didn't expect he'd ever find someone he'd want to marry

(what with his last marriage ending the way it did)

when he realises he's truly in love with you, and you with him, he plans his proposal

it's nothing extravagant but it's absolutely perfect

you have a romantic dinner together and he does a whole speech about how much he loves you

and you see where it's going but you let him go on for a minute until you're like "do you want to ask me something?"

he flusters about it but is very cute and finally pops the question

"i - sweetie, i'd be honoured to make you my wife, will you marry me?"

you have a church wedding (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

close family and friends only

cries when you walk down the aisle

annie gets very invested in helping with the planning and is probably more bothered about it than either of you are

you have a (very) classy dress

loves that he can call you his wife now !! the sheriff's wife !!

reception at your house, classic buffet

lowkey you both cannot wait untl everyone just leaves

*wink wink*

you do have a first dance in private though after everyone leaves

you're both soft and giggling and the song is a cheesy love song but it's perfect

your wedding night is the height of romance

your bridal lingerie really does it for him

what better start for your marriage than him making you cum so many times that you lose count?

doc cochran

you and doc didn't think you'd get married at all

neither of you felt the need to make anything official

you both consider yourself as his common law wife anyway

but something happens (either you get pregnant or some unrest with the camp politics makes the future seem uncertain) you decide you may as well tie the knot officially

there's no real proposal, he just sort of asks

you go to the Grand where E.B (being mayor) unfortunately has to officiate

you don't intend to invite anyone, saying it is no one elses business

but people catch wind (i.e. al, trixie and jane, merrick, maybe sol and seth) and basically invite themselves

you wear your best dress

and doc doesn't half scrub up well

Al invites you both back for a drink at the gem which you accept

("only one though, al" "sure, sure, you gotta get back home - the marriage bed is waiting - I understand")

the marriage bed is waiting though and you get kind of emotional when you go home together for the first time as husband and wife

funnily enough no one shows up at doc's that night for treatment and you have the whole night to yourselves

grima wormtongue

it takes you both a long time before you admit your feelings for each other and commit to having a relationship rather than a friends with benefits situation

marriages move fairly quickly in middle earth

no sooner are you engaged are you at the alter

wedding is moderately fancy because grima is doing pretty well being the king's adviser

few people actually show up who don't have to be there though because neither of you exactly have a lot of friends

grima almost clams up when it comes the ceremony because he doesnt want to say all this personal stuff about how much he loves you in front of other people

but you both get through it and finally, finally you are properly married

he's very emotional when you consummate your marriage but he tries to hide it

(but you know him too well)

tommy ludlow

he proposes one morning after sex

it's only just getting light and you both have to get up for work soon

you're still sweaty and his face is pressed into your neck

and in hushed tones you whisper back and forth

"will you marry me?"

it takes you a second to process what he said, "you wanna get married?"

"if you'll have me"

you kiss him and whisper "yes"

it's a church wedding for you and tommy (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

he has a pretty big extended family and he has to invite them all

your dress and his suit are second hand

(because you're saving for better things)

laura takes a lot of photos for you

including the classic confetti toss one as you leave the church

takes you ages to comb all the confetti out of tommy's hair afterwards

cheesy first dance at the wedding reception

you can tell tommy is nervous so you joke around and make sure he doesn't take it too seriously

when you get home? goddamn you ride him like there's no tomorrow

(still in your wedding dress)

leo nova

it's go big or go home with him

80s fashion at its best

your dress is worth more than the rent on your old apartment

he doesn't see it before the wedding

you're surprised at how many traditions he sticks too despite him having the emotional range of a teaspoon

not many people get an invite to the ceremony but it's a wild after party

like a bunch of coked out 80s gangsters ?? amazing

the honeymoon is next level

you go to some tropical holiday resort (caribbean, thailand or spain) and it is all sun, sex and sangria for two whole weeks

tucker cleveland

didn't think he'd want to get married again

but in reality he just didn't like his first wife all that much

takes you out to dinner and proposes

when you say yes he is honestly relieved

but because he doesn't want to get emotional he calls over the waiter to get your free dessert

courthouse wedding

you do insist he wears a suit though and you buy a white dress

does the whole "just married" thing on the back of his truck

actually takes you on a honeymoon (sort of)

you go out of state and stay in a motel for a week

(vigorous sex ensues)

now you're married good and proper you can be his good little wifey

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thereviewsarein · 6 years

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Nice Horse is currently touring across Canada and we caught up with them before their show in Kitchener, Ontario on Tuesday, where they were opening for The Washboard Union.

It’s been a while since Boots and Hearts 2017 when we chatted with Nice Horse last and there have been some changes. Most notably there’s been a lineup change on the guitar. Tara McLeod has stepped in for Kaley Debra. Tara brings some serious guitar chops to the band. She’s been shredding since the age of 12 and joined acclaimed metal band Kittie in 2005. Additional credits include studio work with Before the Damned, Shawn Desman, and Fefe Dobson.

We met up in the dressing room at Kitchener’s Centre in the Square but we were fortunate enough to be experiencing a beautiful, warm, late October day, and we took full advantage of it and suggested we head outside for our chat.

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We had a few distractions before getting started including a puppy visitor, a fan who spotted us, and asked if he could get a photo with the band. There was a lot of laughter, and we may have even been told by people passing by, that we were having too much fun. We were having a lot of fun.

I started off the official questions by asking about their YouTube video series “Bandsplainin“. If you’re a fan of Nice Horse, you’ll know that in March of this year, they released a super fun video for their song Mansplainin‘. It’s gorgeous and carries a great message. The definition of “mansplain” is: (of a man) explain (something) to someone, typically a woman, in a manner regarded as condescending or patronizing. They took it upon themselves, during the year to turn it around and explain some things to some of our favourite bands.

Nice Horse has bandsplained Paul Brandt, James Barker, Aaron Goodvin, Midland, Clayton Bellamy, Jeff Dalziel, but our favourite bandsplainin’ video may have been Brett Kissel. Take a moment, watch them all. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

I wanted to know if there’d be more bandsplainin’ videos coming and Katie reassured me that there would be. She let us know that bands have been asking to be bandsplained, and we’re very glad to hear it. There was even talk of possibly bandsplainin’ The Washboard Union!

At this point, I switched gears and asked about Coalition Music. Coalition Music mentored the band before to managing them, and they were always available to answer questions. If they didn’t know an answer, they found someone who did. Coalition runs Canada’s Music Incubator. “Canada’s Music Incubator (CMI) is a not-for-profit incubator based in Toronto with a mandate to help artists and artist managers evolve from starter companies into sustainable businesses through hands-on networking, mentoring and collaboration.”

Coalition helped to guide them towards taking the Nice Horse project more seriously, and while they always have a fun horse pun for us, they’re taking this business very seriously. They support all of their artists, but they also expressed that the artists support each other. It’s the story we hear over and over again in Canadian music, it’s like a family.

I managed to sneak a question about Johnson Crook, one of my favourite Toronto bands because I knew they had a relationship. Turns out Nice Horse had a relationship with Johnson Crook before their Coalition days, and one of the first shows Brandi did was with Noel Johnson, before his Johnson Crook days. Brandi talked about being in a band with Krista, and the two of them bringing Noel out on tour. There were some fun stories, but we’re going to make you ask Noel about the PlayStation.

Katie mentioned that she knew Eric at Coalition through Simple Plan. Simple Plan used to record at a recording studio where Katie worked, and Sebastian pointed Katie in Eric’s direction. Simple Plan continues to support Nice Horse through their journey.

Next on my list of “Must Asks” was, “Tell one thing that your fans don’t know about you.”. Tara) “Everything! I have recently admitted to the world that I’m super domestic.” Brandi) “I’m a way more open book. I’m a total tea fanatic and my favourite thing about being off of tour, is going home, and I have my special tea kettle that boils the water to the perfect temperature, and Krista got me this milk frother for Christmas one year, and I dream about going home and making myself the best matcha latte.” Katie) “I can’t think of anything that people don’t know about me, let Krista go first.” After Krista answered, it came out that Katie is petrified of snakes and spiders and for that reasons, she’ll never go to Australia. Krista) “Most of my home decor I purchase during Halloween and the week following. I have little skull shot glasses, little plates with tasteful skeletons on them and Brandi just got me a pillow that has skeletons doing yoga on it.”

I had to ask about new music. Nice Horse has a brand new single out for Six String Outlaw, and they’re calling this one The Sundown Remix. The remix sounds very different, and part of that’s because Tara’s put her own spin on the guitar parts. Have a listen.

Katie also told us that they were just in the studio two weeks ago working on brand new songs and that we expect to hear them in early next year. Hopefully February.

We wrapped up our interview, and Nice Horse got back to preparing for the show. Later that evening they took the stage by storm. Full out energy and enthusiasm. They told us during their set that one of their very first shows was in this venue when they opened for Tom Cochrane. It was good to have them back.

Their set included Six String Outlaw, Jim, Jack, Johnnie & Jose, Tonight and more. They closed out with Pony Up and energized the crowd. They did an amazing job of getting the audience ready for The Washboard Union. As their set ended the ladies behind me asked “What was their name, they were great.” I was happy to tell them.

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Nice Horse plays in Red Deer on November 1st with Meghan Patrick, Medicine Hat on November 2nd with Lindsay Ell, followed by four dates with The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and then they’ll finish up the tour with The Washboard Union. Look for dates in your city and get out and see this band. You won’t regret it.

Before we let them go, we got Nice Horse to do a round of 5 Quick Questions with us.

5 Quick Questions with Nice Horse

Q1) If you’re in charge of the music on a road trip, and can only pick one album to play on repeat, what album do you choose? NH) “St. Vincent’s Actor.“

Q2) Do you have any pre-show rituals? NH) “Taking a nap, in a dream world.”

Q3) What’s your favourite season? NH) “Summer.”

Q4)Is there a band or artist you think people should be paying more attention to? NH) “Dan Davidson, all the ladies, any woman.” Q5) Is there anything else you want us to share with our readers that we haven’t touched on. NH) “The tour is the thing because after that we might take a small break. But during that small break, we’ll be shooting a music video in Hawaii, so.” We found out that the video will be for one of their new songs!

Nice Horse 2018 Fall Tour Interview and Review Nice Horse is currently touring across Canada and we caught up with them before their show in Kitchener, Ontario on Tuesday, where they were opening for…

#5 Quick Questions #interview #Kitchener #Nice Horse #review #Tour

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dom8888 · 3 years

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REPORT: RANGERS 5-0 HEARTS

RANGERS roared back from Wednesday’s disappointment with a terrific 5-0 defeat of Hearts at Ibrox in the Scottish Premiership this afternoon.

In a performance of boundless energy, determination and some real, top-class play, Alfredo Morelos netted twice and there were counters from Glen Kamara, Scott Arfield and Fashion Jr in the crushing win.

Boss Van Bronckhorst named four changes to his side for this afternoon’s Scottish Premiership match - from the team which lined-up on Wednesday, Leon Balogun, John Lundstram, Ryan Jack and Alfredo Morelos all came into the XI in place of Borna Barisic, Glen Kamara, Amad and Kemar Roofe.

That meant it was a back five today of Allan McGregor in goal with captain James Tavernier, Connor Goldson, Balogun and Calvin Bassey in front of him.

Jack and Lundstram were joined in midfield by Joe Aribo, with Scott Arfield and Ryan Kent providing support to Morelos.

All nine players named on the bench by van Bronckhorst this afternoon are full internationals – there for him were Jon McLaughlin, Barisic, Steven Davis, Kamara, James Sands, Amad, Roofe, Fashion Jr, and for the first time, Aaron Ramsey.

Rangers were after a fast start in this one, and they had Hearts under pressure in the opening minutes with a succession of corners and lots of positive play in the visitors’ half in the opening minutes.

Kent had an effort slide just wide of the far post when he cut in from the left on the end of a fine Gers counter, while Craig Gordon showed good hands to gather from a Morelos drive from just inside the area when Jack set him up.

The Light Blues really were playing at a ferocious pace, and they hit the front on just 12 minutes with a phenomenal opener.

From the left, Calvin Bassey picked a 50-yard, curling pass into the path of Ryan Kent that took out Nathaniel Atkinson and Taylor Moore from the equation.

Kent still had work to do, however, and he delivered wonderfully to the back post for Alfredo Morelos to turn home expertly on the stretch for his 14th of the campaign.

It was just what was required for Rangers, and they kept up their high-energy showing – Aribo sending a strike wide as blue jerseys flooded forward once more.

Kent then released Morelos from halfway to scamper into space down that left again, before Morelos found Kent in the area after he made up the yards to turn Toby Sibbick inside out, but he could only fire wide of the far post with Gordon beaten.

Tavernier had a 25-yard free kick only just clear the crossbar, while Gordon gathered a Jack snapshot from the edge of the area.

Gordon then made a super save from Morelos from 18-yards to ensure it was only a single goal lead at the break – but their play certainly deserved more.

Hearts then threatened for the first time in the match within a minute of the restart. Stephen Kingsley delivered to the back post for Atkinson to volley across goal.

Bassey was then short with a header back to McGregor that Cammy Devlin nipped onto to send wide of the target, while Jack had a volley at the other end that dipped just over.

Then on 64 minutes, Gers got their richly deserved second through that man Morelos. After initially trying to thread one through for Arfield, the ball cannoned off Kingsley and back into the Colombian’s path, and from the 18-yard line, he curled a beautiful finish beyond Gordon and into the top-left corner of the net.

Morelos then could have had a hat-trick when Aribo released him to go one-on-one with Gordon, but a combination of Moore and the goalkeeper denied him.

Where Morelos couldn’t finish, sub Glen Kamara could. It was Morelos who released him through, and he sold Alex Cochrane a dummy before sitting Gordon down and finishing past him for 3-0 on 72 minutes for his second of the season.

Three minutes later, it was four, as Gers again broke the Hearts offside trap. Scott Arfield was denied initially by Gordon, but the ball ricocheted back into his path for a close-range finish for his fifth of the campaign.

That was to be his final action of the game, with Aaron Ramsey coming on for his debut to huge acclaim in his place just afterwards.

A fine block from Sibbick again denied Morelos his hat-trick, before number five arrived on 85 minutes. This time is was Kent racing into space down the right to cut the ball back for Fashion Jr’s seventh Rangers goal – albeit Ramsey was queuing up just behind too. Gordon denied Morelos in injury-time, and five is how it finished. It’s on now to Hibs back here on Wednesday night.

#สล็อตเครดิตฟรี 300 บาท

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your-dietician · 3 years

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That's Entertainment 6/29/29 | Local Entertainment

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/entertainment/thats-entertainment-6-29-29-local-entertainment/

That's Entertainment 6/29/29 | Local Entertainment

Tuesday Night Blues online concert, Howard “Guitar” Luedtke and Blue Max, 6:30 p.m. today, viewable on Facebook, YouTube and at TuesdayNightBlues.com.

Tuesday Night Blues, live concert series, opens with Stefan Geisinger Band and Flaming Doublewides, 6:30-8:30 p.m. July 6, Owen Park. Food and beverage vendors on hand. Free. Information: chippewavalleyblues.com or the Facebook pages of the Chippewa Valley Blues Society or Tuesday Night Blues.

“Harps in the Park,” 6-7 p.m. Wednesday, the lawn at Chippewa Valley Museum, Carson Park. Part of museum exhibit “Listen Up! Folk Music in the Valley.” Concert is free. Ramone’s ice cream parlor inside the museum and the museum’s exhibits open until 8 p.m. Wednesday. 715-834-7871; cvmuseum.com.

The Thundermen, community concert, 6:30-8:30 pm. Wednesday, River Prairie Park’s Prevea Amphitheater, Front Porch Place, Altoona. Sponsored by the city of Altoona.

Eau Claire Municipal Band, 7:30 p.m. Wednesday, Donald “Sarge” Boyd Bandshell, Owen Park. Free. Information: eauclairemunicipalband.org or the band’s Facebook page.

Menomonie Moose Lodge senior dances, 1-4 p.m. Wednesday, 720 19th Ave. Everyone welcome. Information: 715-235-3747.

Shell Lake Arts Center concerts at Shell Lake Lakefront Pavilion: Jazz campers, 5 p.m. Friday; jazz faculty, 4 p.m. Sunday; jazz faculty, 7 p.m. Monday; jazz faculty, 7 p.m. Wednesday, July 7; jazz campers, 5 p.m. Friday, July 9. Free. Information: shelllakeartscenter.org/events/concert-schedule; 715-468-2414.

Good Morning Bedlam, folk, 7-8:30 p.m. Thursday, the lawn at Menomonie Public Library, 600 Wolske Bay Road, Menomonie. 715-232-2164.

Sue Orfield Band, jazz-blues-rock, fundraiser for Sojourner House, 3-6 p.m. Saturday, Knights Of Columbus, 236 Pumphouse Road, Chippewa Falls. Donations welcome. 715-726-2002.

Chris Kroeze, country, 10 p.m. Saturday, Riverfest, 410 E. Veterans Memorial Drive, La Crosse. 608-782-6000.

Release of “The Last Honest Man,” single by Davey J from upcoming album, “Blue,” Sunday, at outlets such as Spotify, Apple Music and other online retailers; short film titled “Last Honest Man,” broadcast Sunday on Davey J’s Facebook page: tinyurl.com/ys39yd8e.

Fusion at Four Seasons Concert Series: Margie and Teresa, musical group, 5:30-6:30 p.m. Monday, Four Seasons Stage, River Prairie Park, Front Porch Place, Altoona.

Kickin’ It Country Concert Series: Golden Band, 6:30 p.m. Monday, River Prairie Park’s Prevea Amphitheater, Front Porch Place, Altoona.

“Mixtape Live!” featuring a women’s trio performing styles including country, classic country, pop/rock, folk, showtunes and patriotic, various dates through July 12, Paradise Shores 4, 26364 Highway M, Holcombe. 715-595-4227; paradiseshores4.com/events.

Nick Anderson, solo, 5-8 p.m. today, Gathering Place Resort & Lodge, 2738 27½ Ave., Birchwood. 715-354-3029.

Kaiged Acoustic, joined by fiddler Jimmy Herman, 6-9 p.m. Wednesday, Barn Again Lodge, S683 Lovely Road, Mondovi. 715-946-3433.

Bear Creek Band, variety, 5-9 p.m. Thursday, Gilligan’s Tiki Bar, 2452 8 1/4 Ave., Chetek. Free. 715-924-3105.

Tommy Bentz Band, blues-rock, 7-9 p.m. Thursday, Music in the Park Series, Veterans Park, 1 N. Main St., River Falls.

Open mic hosted by Rock Creek Song Dogs, 6-9 p.m. Thursday, Dancing Yarrow + Farm to Fork Pizza, S193 Highway BB, Mondovi. 715-309-5238.

Bear Creek Band, variety, 5-9 p.m. Friday, Paradise Shores 4, 26364 Highway M, Holcombe. Free. 715-595-4227.

David Janakey, 6-8 p.m. Friday, Dancing Yarrow + Farm to Fork Pizza, S193 Highway BB, Mondovi. 715-309-5238.

Drumming and Music Medicine, 8-9 p.m. Friday, Dancing Yarrow + Farm to Fork Pizza, S193 Highway BB, Mondovi. 715-309-5238.

Josh White, live music, 5:30 p.m. Friday, Together Farms, W93 Norden Road, Mondovi. 715-210-4740.

Nick Anderson, solo, 8-11 p.m. Friday, Suncrest Gardens Pizza Farm, S2257 Yaeger Valley Road, Cochrane. 608-626-2122.

Rock Creek Song Dogs, folk-grass, 5:30-8:30 p.m. Friday, Brewery Nonic, 621 4th St W., Menomonie. 715-578-9078.

Backyard Jack, 7-11 p.m. Saturday, Jake’s Supper Club, E5690 Highway D, Menomonie. Free. 715-235-2465.

Bear Creek Band, variety, 4-8 p.m. Saturday, Roadhouse 25, 103 S. Highway 25, Wheeler. Free. 715-989-1021.

Late Night Jazz: Dean Granros Quartet, avant-garde guitarist with trio of Josh Gallagher on keyboard, Sean Carey on drums, Jeremy Boettcher on bass, 8:30-11:30 p.m. Saturday, The Lakely, 516 Galloway St. 715-839-0601.

Howard “Guitar” Luedtke and Blue Max, blues, 8 p.m. Saturday, No Name Saloon & Monkey Bar, 114 Broad St., N., Prescott. 715-262-9803.

Lou Carver, live music, 6-9 p.m. Saturday, Dancing Yarrow + Farm to Fork Pizza, S193 Highway BB, Mondovi. 715-309-5238.

Rock Creek Song Dogs, folk-grass, 2-4 p.m. Saturday, Rosario’s Pizza, 42 N. 1st St., Black River Falls. 715-284-0006.

Bear Creek Band, variety, 2-7 p.m. Sunday, Jake’s Tiki Bar, E5690 Highway D, Menomonie. Free. 715-235-2465.

Two Rivers, 3-6 p.m. Sunday, Northwoods Brew Pub, 50819 West St., Osseo. 715-597-1828.

Bear Creek Band, variety, 6:30-8 p.m. Monday, Music in the Park, Elcho. Free.

“Listen Up! Folk Music in the Chippewa Valley,” exhibit through Sept. 6, Chippewa Valley Museum, 1204 E. Half Moon Drive. Exhibit shows the great diversity of musical traditions in the Chippewa Valley. Hours: 5-8 p.m. Tuesdays; noon-5 p.m. Wednesdays through Sundays. Closed Mondays. Admission: $10 adults; $8 seniors 62 and up; $5 kids and students with ID; free for kids under age 5. 715-834-7871; cvmuseum.com.

Self-guided tours published by Chippewa Valley Museum: “Biking Into History,” three- to six-mile tours using Eau Claire bike trails, all three courses starting at Phoenix Park; and walking historical tour of downtown Eau Claire. Free for participants and family-friendly. For biking tours, maps available at the Chippewa Valley Museum, The Local Store, L.E. Phillips Senior Center. For walking tour: theclio.com. Information: 715-834-7871; cvmuseum.com.

“Campfire Stories: A Night of Fact, Fiction, & Fire,” 8-9:30 p.m. Wednesday, The Lakely, 516 Galloway St. 715-839-0601.

Chippewa Valley Writers Guild Virtual Writers Retreat program by Angie Trudell Vasquez: “Poetry for the People Workshop,” 7 p.m. today. Free. To register, which is required, cvwritersguild.org/events and click “Register Now.”

Party at the Park Storytimes, 10:30 a.m. Wednesdays through July 28, outside (weather permitting) at Chippewa Riverfront park. Presented by Chippewa Falls Public Library. Also at the library’s kids’ YouTube Channel: tinyurl.com/ahnfzy7s. Information: 715-723-1146; chippewafallslibrary.org.

Summer Storytime, 9 a.m. Tuesdays through Thursdays through Aug. 12, Menomonie Public Library, 600 Wolske Bay Road. Pre-registration required. 715-232-2164; menomonielibrary.org.

Family Storytime on Zoom, 10 a.m. through July 28, Baby/Toddler Storytime on Tuesdays, Family Storytime on Wednesdays. Presented by L.E. Phillips Memorial Public Library. Information/registration: 715-839-5007; ecpubliclibrary.info/kids/storytime-online/.

“Get Lost: A Walking Podcast of Eau Claire,” written and performed by 23 UW-Eau Claire students. Each episode features a different walking path through Eau Claire, with narrators sharing a mix of fiction and historical facts. Information: getlostec.com.

The Chippewa Valley Railroad, Carson Park, open noon-5 p.m. Sundays through Labor Day and on July 4. Tickets: Adults, $3; children, $2; 2 and younger, Free. Information: chippewavalleyrailroad.org, the group’s Facebook page, or 715-450-3330 during hours of operation.

The Mabel Tainter, tours of Victorian theater on the National Register of Historic Places, 205 Main St. E., Menomonie. 715-235-0001; mabeltainter.org.

“In a Roundabout Way,” virtual exhibit of works by over 20 artists, through Aug. 27. Presented by L.E. Phillips Memorial Public Library. 715-839-5004; ecpubliclibrary.info/art.

Artists featured through July 18 at ArtZ Gallery, 208 N. Keller Ave., Amery: Barb Tanner, jewelry; Ruth Ronning, pastels; Deborah Stull-Kinsley, paintings. Information: 715-268-8600, artzgallery.org.

“Recent Acquisitions: Gifts for Our Community,” through Aug. 15, Laurie Bieze Gallery, Pablo Center at the Confluence. Information: 715-832-ARTS (2787), pablocenter.org.

“Meditations,” art by Allan Servoss, through July 9, Heyde Center for the Arts, 3 S. High St., Chippewa Falls. Free. 715-726-9000; cvca.net.

“Eric Lee: Ignited Reality,” paintings in conjunction with a number of process-driven techniques involving flammables, water, ashes, concrete, aluminum, wood and others, through Sept. 12, Pablo Center at the Confluence. Information: 715-832-ARTS (2787), pablocenter.org.

The art of “Go Paint! Chippewa Valley,” virtual exhibit of work from weeklong plein air art festival, presented by Pablo Center at the Confluence. Information: 715-832-ARTS (2787), pablocenter.org.

“Hands of Peace,” virtual youth art production organized by local nonprofit BaredFeet, on facebook.com/baredfeetco. 715-497-3213.

Art in the Valley, gallery featuring local artists, 2533 E. Clairemont Ave. Hours: 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday, Tuesday and Thursday; 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Wednesday and Friday; and 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. Saturday. Information: 715-579-2097 or 715-577-1332.

Artisan Forge Studios, home to over 30 vendors specializing in arts of all forms, including artists of all media, 1106 Mondovi Road, Eau Claire. Artisan Forge currently is allowing only 10 people in the gallery at once and enforcing 6-foot social distancing. They are encouraging use of face masks, which are supplied at the entrance and gallery desk. For hours, special events and more information: 715-456-8573; artisanforgestudios.com.

Derek Hambly, Australian expressionist painter, premiering new work exclusive to B-Framed Galleries, many of which focus on mirrored images of rivers, trees and pathways, B-Framed Galleries, 313 South Barstow St. 715-832-4476, email [email protected], or message on Facebook.

Searching for Summer Scavenger Hunt, featuring 16 historic summer recreation sites around the Chippewa Valley, Saturday through July 11, and includes locations in Chippewa Falls, Lake Hallie and Eau Claire. Information: 715-834-7871, cvmuseum.com/searching-for-summer.

The 360-degree interactive virtual tour and a new virtual exhibit, “Hmong in Eau Claire,” Chippewa Valley Museum, 1204 E. Half Moon Drive. Other features at the museum: “Listen Up! Folk Music in the Chippewa Valley,” through Sept. 6; “Reinventing the Chippewa Valley: 1650-present”; “A Century of Change: Farm Life”; “RCU Children’s Gallery: History Quest”; “A Fantasy in Miniature: Kate Aitken’s Dollhouse.” Hours: 5-8 p.m. Tuesdays; noon-5 p.m. Wednesdays through Sundays. Closed Mondays. Admission: $10 adults; $8 seniors 62 and up; $5 kids and students with ID; free for kids under age 5. 715-834-7871; cvmuseum.com.

Wisconsin Logging Museum (formerly the Paul Bunyan Logging Camp Museum), four historic buildings, machine shed and interpretive center, noon-4 p.m. Thursdays through Sundays, 1110 E. Half Moon Drive in Carson Park. 715-835-6200; wisconsinlogging.org.

Chippewa Valley Museum and Wisconsin Logging Museum both offering a buy one admission, get one admission free deal. Joint tickets for the two museums. Fourth of July hours: Chippewa Valley Museum, noon-5 p.m., Wisconsin Logging Museum, noon-4:30 p.m. Discount made possible with Xcel Energy support. Information:715-834-7871; 715-835-6200.

Stanley Area Historical Society, 228 Helgerson St., 1-4 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays through September. Admission by donation. Group tours available by calling 715-644-5492 or 715-644-5880.

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gazellefamily · 6 years

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MTV TOP 100 VIDEOS OF 1992

Yo, Right Said Fred is extremely... European.

My mother would sometimes let my brother drive and I’d ride shotgun while she read The New Yorker in the backseat on the way to Thanksgiving in New Jersey. And we would blast Alice In Chains and House of Pain and she would yell at us to turn it down.

My brother and I saw Toad The Wet Sprocket live at H.O.R.D.E. I cherish these songs and I don’t care what anyone says. It’s Griff-core.

Gazelles don’t fuck with Weird Al. That’s Devin T. Quinn-core.

Bruce Springsteen rocking out shirtless and jacked at age 44 is a thirsty mid-life crisis and I am trying to have one myself. Human Touch.

Matty Gazelle and I have a thing about Extreme’s album III. I don’t know why but we always seem to discuss it.

Drug-rugs are coming back and I will be like ‘I told you, Tommy’

Def Leppard’s 1992 contributions are the raspy last croak of bloated hair gas. It’s over, gents. Off you go.

Bon Jovi’s “issues” monologue is a no-go zone.

Snap! Is Cool as Ice

My stepsister sung ‘Walking On Broken Glass’ in an acapella group and it’s been hard to fuck with since.

Axl was a rock god, but like also evil? Like is he a good guy or a villain? Who would he stand with in Secret Wars?

Is Isaac Hayes in that Madonna video?

What happened to Joe Public??? That kid could write a hook.

Black Crowes sounds good as fuck now. Like blues rock is oxygen?

I remember biking around my grandparents Arizona retirement neighborhood with AM/FM headphones and Mr. Big came on and I was like, ‘This is some campfire shit and I’m not sure”

Spin Doctors sounds as good as Black Crowes. Almost.

Bobby Brown was a very rebellious young man. Needed Jesus.

Tom Cochrane. Dude must still be like, ‘Did 1992 actually happen?’ as he punches in as floor manager at TruValue Hardware store.

Ugly Kid Joe is not welcome here.

Hunger Strike: 2 Jesuses.

PM Dawn guy def got bullied in high school for his interests.

Eddie Vedder wore cargo shorts in ‘Evenflow’ so its OK?

“Jeremy” was the most prophetic song of all time. Had there even been a school shooting at that point? Why is no one talking about ‘Jeremy’ now?

‘November Rain’ is one of my favorite movies

-Donnie Gazelle

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pagesoflauren · 7 years

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A Thousand Years (vampire!Jack Lowden x reader AU) - Part 8

Part 7 Masterlist

“I bought us tickets to go to the history museum,” Y/N states plainly one evening as she’s eating dinner. Jack is amusing himself with one of Socks’s cat toys when she says this and he stops. “Which museum?” “Museum of Modern History.”

Jack snorts a laugh.

“What?” “Nothing, it’s just…some of my stuff’s there.” “What do you mean?” “Like, I told you I sold some of my stuff to collectors and museums? That museum is one of those places.” “Did they pay you well, at least?” “Oh yeah. They paid for the TV, its mount, the couch and this table.” “Why did you even get a dining table if you didn’t eat?” “We didn’t see the point in getting another couch to face the kitchen. Plus, if we ever moved out of the house, we’d just leave the table and then the new family coming in would have one.” “How generous of you,” she quips. “Anyway, I got the tickets for the ‘overnight hours’ for you vampire folk so that we don’t have to worry about the sun coming out while we’re there. We’re going Friday night at 10:00.”

“What in the freaking world,” Y/N says, tilting her head to look at a teapot that was meant to look like an elephant, but looked more like an elephant that got its body parts mixed up. “The 1700s was a wild time,” she says sarcastically, filling out the questionnaire her professor had given her.

She had to be here for an assignment as part of one of her classes to complete a history minor, which didn’t have much to do with her psychology major, but she liked history, so why not minor in it?

“I’ve made better teapots than that,” Jack critiques, wrinkling his nose. “Do you know how to do pottery?” “Yeah, it was the, um, what do you kids say? The ‘OG’”—he uses air quotes—“pottery wheel and kiln. No electronics, just a bunch of gears attached to a tabletop and fire.” “I can’t believe you just used the term ‘OG.’” “I’m trying to be hip and with it!” “Shh,” she hushes when his voice gets too loud, “Yes, dear. You’re catching up nicely with the modern lingo.” “Thank you,” he says, smiling a closed lipped smile, causing his dimples to appear and eyes to crinkle up.

Y/N giggles. “Whenever you smile like that it reminds me of a teddy bear. Or Winnie the Pooh! Like a little Pooh Bear,” she says, patting his cheek, “It’s so cute.”

Jack’s eyebrows immediately knit together, his face dropping down into a frown. “I’m not cute,” he says as she rolls her eyes and begins walking away. “I’m a vicious, blood-drinking monster with...with fangs and a body count!” “You’re a 167-year-old grump with a fluffy black cat who fusses over his girlfriend and acts all bashful when she kisses his face.” “I do not!” he says indignantly.

She balances on her toes and presses a light kiss to his cheek. When he doesn’t soften immediately, she kisses him repeatedly until he melts under her touch. “Told you,” she says, her face plastered with a smug look. “Come on,” she smiles, grabbing his hand and tugging him to another exhibit, “I gotta answer questions about your time.”

She leads him to the 1800s wing. There’s a slideshow of old photos projected against a wall while other artifacts litter the floor in glass cases. “Y/N, here, look,” he says, finger pressing against the glass to point at an old opened diary, the pages yellowed due to the passage of time and faded curly handwriting scribbled on it. “Is that yours?” “No, it’s Thomas’s.” “Hm, yeah, I don’t think your handwriting’s that nice,” she said sarcastically, a teasing smile on her face. “I’ll have you know I had some of the best handwriting in Oxton.” “Right, and that town has how many people in it…?” “Anyway, what’s the next question on your paper there?”

She laughs at his not-so-subtle attempt at changing the subject, her eyes scanning the paper before landing on the question she needs to answer. “‘What two occupations did John Cochrane have?’” “Oh, I had a beer with him once. He was a lawyer and a chess player. Smart guy but he’d drink himself stupid. I think he preferred just playing chess and hated his job being a lawyer, but I dunno.” “What was he doing in Oxton?” “Passing by. He had to spend the night at an inn before going to Edinburgh.” “How old were you?”

Jack thinks for a minute before answering that he was sixteen.

“Dang, look at you, brushing shoulders with Scottish greats and all.” “Not just Scottish ones, had dinner with Winston Churchill once.” “You had dinner?” “Well, he had dinner, I was just sitting at the table.” “What was he like?” “Didn’t really care much for me. There’s a bit of a stigma against vampires if you can’t tell. But your generation isn’t as bad as previous ones.” “Lucky for both of us,” she smiles and he leans down to kiss the crown of her head.

They’re pulled from their conversation when a tour group passes by and the tour guide gestures to a portrait of David Dunbar Buick. Jack’s heightened hearing sensitivity allows him to pick up a small tidbit of what the guide is saying: “…he was known to be a very generous and kind man, very intelligent, obviously…” Jack leave’s Y/N’s side and begins walking over, “Actually he was a cocky zounderkite who got lucky.”

He feels Y/N’s warmth coming towards him before he feels her hand tugging at his arm. “Jack,” she warns quietly. She’s comfortable around Jack, but at the moment there’s a crowd of vampires looking at him and now her. She could be imagining it, but it seems like they’re eying her as if she were a Christmas feast.

“Just a second, love,” he says dismissively, patting her hand, “He wasn’t generous at all! He flaunted his money everywhere because quite frankly he had nothing else to his name.”

“Actually, I wasn’t gonna say anything but it’s true,” another vampire speaks, coming to the front of the group with a boy in tow. Y/N’s eyebrows raise in curiosity; this boy isn’t quite as pale as the rest of the group. “I grabbed a beer with him once and all he had to talk about was his money. He wasn’t very nice at all.” “Gentlemen, please, I’m just giving a tour and following a script,” the guide says, shrugging exasperatedly. “Yeah, love, c’mon,” the boy says, tugging the other vampire’s arm. He huffs and leads him towards Jack and Y/N, and she shrinks a little more behind Jack.

“Hey, mate,” the other vampire greets. “Hi,” Jack replies, holding his hand out, “I’m Jack.” “Garrett. This is my boyfriend, Ash.” “Nice to meet you, Ash,” Jack smiles, shaking his hand as well. “This is my Y/N,” he says, bringing her to his side. She smiles and shakes both their hands. Ash’s hand is warmer than Garrett’s. He’s human.

“Have you got Anderson as well?” Ash asks, pointing to Y/N’s clipboard with her homework packet on it. “I do! I’m in his 10:00 class.” “I am too. I sit in the back, though.” “Oh, no wonder I’ve never seen you, I sit in the front.” “What question are you on?” he asks, coming over to Y/N’s other side and looking at her paper. He’s only a little bit behind and she catches him up with her so that they can finish the worksheet together.

“So, how’d you meet?” Garrett asks as they trail after their significant others who are laughing animatedly and jotting down their answers to the questions. “Oh, I work at the bar across the street from campus, I don’t know if you know it, the Lion and Rose?” “Oh yeah, yeah, Garrett’s gone there with a couple of his mates after exams and stuff.” “Yeah, she just needed something to help her sleep and it was just me and her.” “Oooh, nice, did you tap it?” “What no!” Jack laughs, “No I didn’t. What about you, how’d you two meet?” “We met through a friend at a club. You know the one on Grand Avenue?” Jack shakes his head, “No, no, I’ve been—what is it the kids say—‘off the grid’ for the past twenty years or so. I’m catching up now since I’ve met her.” “Ah, I see. Well, yeah we met there, got a bit drunk at a club and did karaoke. I took him home and he asked me to stay, and I mean…I did, of course, cuz I mean, look at him, he’s adorable.”

Jack follows Garrett’s gesture to find them a good distance away, talking gesticulatively about a typewriter.

“And then he made breakfast for me and I just ate it away because I can’t say no to him—“ “I know that feeling.” “Right!? It’s so hard to deny him anything. I literally bought him a pair of shoes he didn’t need because he batted those damn eyelashes at me.” “Oh, I just spoil her. She gets mad at me then I just smile at her and then it’s fine.” “Aww, that’s so sweet. Oh, wait, right, the story. I mean, I didn’t wanna come out and meet the other uni students he lives with so I just stayed his room. We talked, watched movies and he kept feeding me. Then when the sun went down I was leaving and he started realizing that I didn’t eat. He started blushing—they’re cute when they blush, aren’t they?”

Jack chuckles and nods.

“Yeah. He kept apologizing and I just thought it was really sweet and endearing. We’ve been together for about four months.” “That’s so sweet,” Jack says.

“Do you know any other couples like…us?” Y/N asks. “I don’t, actually. But not a lot of people have really turned their nose up at Garrett. There were just issues when he met my parents.” “Yeah, I had the same thing. My dad is still such a stickler about it.” “I think they’ve come around to it now. Can I ask you though, have you thought about…the biting thing?” “Oh. Yeah, I have. I don’t want to be a vampire. Not yet, at least. I might change my mind later on. I’ve been wrestling with the idea of having kids. I’ve always wanted a family and I’d love to have one with Jack but I don’t know if it’s possible.” “Well I’m sure you guys can figure something out. I don’t think it’s impossible.” “Yeah. We’ll see. I’m just trying to graduate now.” “Same here. What’s the next question?”

Later, when Y/N and Ash have finished their homework, they make plans to have dinner together, Ash making a joke about how he’d love to actually eat with someone instead of eating while Garrett sits across from him.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Garrett says as he frowns. “Oh, please Garrett, you can’t possibly get upset over me actually wanting to eat with someone. And don’t worry, you’ll have Jack to grump about shit with.” “I am not grumpy!” both vampires say, scowling and crossing their arms. Ash and Y/N just laughed. “I’ll see you on Monday!” Y/N says, “And I’ll sit next to you now.” “Thank you, the people who normally sit around me are like rocks. They’re so boring.” “Don’t worry, we’ll be in the back talking shit about these two,” Y/N says, pointing at their boyfriends who only frown more. “Alright, that’s enough chatting for tonight, let’s go,” Jack says, reaching out for Y/N’s hand, who grabs it as she shares another laugh with Ash at their boyfriends’ eagerness to get the two gossiping humans away from each other.

They walk to the car, Jack having shed his coat to keep Y/N warm.

“You don’t actually think I’m a grump, do you?” “I don’t know, you’re kinda grumpy sometimes. But you’re also a big dork. And I love you, anyway. You’re like Hades and I’m Persephone,” she giggles. “Yeah, and Socks is Cerberus.” “And we’re all one happy little family.”

He laughs at that, leaning to kiss her cheek as he brakes at a red light.

“One happy, grumpy, mischievous little family.”

#Jack Lowden #Jack Lowden AU

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