#listen i am in camp ‘Mac needs to be sexy’

[missing-sock-misto]

Macavity’s a Mystery Cat, he’s called the ‘Hidden Paw’,

For he’s the master criminal, who can defy the law.

[carnationcomplex]

Person who I secretly think is very cool and funny @aspeneyes tagged me to answer 30 questions and then tag 20 blogs I want to get to know better (I definitely don't know that many but I'll try my best...)

1. Name/nickname: Chrissy which is actually already a nickname for Christine and I've been going by that since 4th grade. Got tired of people calling me Christina but now I get Christy so not much has changed lol

2. Gender: cis woman

3. Star sign: scorpio (not that I really know what that means but apparently it's sexy of me idk)

4. Height: 5'8" last time I went to the doctor

5. Time: 9:59 p.m. est (well it's 11:30 p.m. when I'm finishing this but that's when I started)

6. Birthday: November 10th

7. Favorite groups/bands: I'm a kpop bastard as we all know so you got bts, dreamcatcher, txt, and a.c.e as the main ones. I also listen to twice, red velvet, everglow, itzy, stray kids, etc. more casually. Outside of that I do listen to fob and patd (although almost exclusively vices and virtues or pretty odd) and also Daughter because I'm unwell <3 Also the musical Nevermore about Edgar Allen Poe it slaps

8. Favorite solo artists: There are less of these but for kpop you primarily got chungha and then you got hyuna and sunmi and such. Outside of that you mostly got hozier and sleeping at last (isn't he technically a solo artist?) and Marina.

9. Song stuck in my head: honestly it's how you like that by blackpink which I am annoyed about because I don't really like it that much but oh well (I don't dislike all their music just this one song in particular)

10. Last movie: I watched Jingle Jangle with my friends before christmas and a few days before that it was Klaus (which i liked better) with mck and willow

11. Last show: the last show I finished was The Untamed (thank you birdie for the worms in my brain!) and I'm now watching House M.D. because I need something to act like background noise when I'm unwell

12. When did I create this blog: uhhhhhh I think 2017? Or 2016? idk I was in high school probably sophomore year

13. What do I post: basically whatever Fandom I'm in so I used to post about voltron when I was watching that (yikes!) and now it's mostly kpop and then theres that destiel/election meme I made that got an inexplicably substantial amount of notes

14. Last thing googled: 'cat tortoise' (to check how to correctly spell tortie because I was talking to birdie about how my cat has tortie like patterning to some of her coloring)

15. Other blogs: this is the only one we die like men on main and all that

16. Do I get asks: I used to get 0 but now I'll get a few when I reblog ask games and stuff but nothing outside of that

17. Why did I choose this url: the girl I was tragically in love with in high school said if I was a flower I'd be a white carnation because of my 'pure love' or whatever and I've been sad about it ever since

18. Following: apparently it's 126

19. Followers: 109! (It genuinely used to be like 10 until the Meme got over 60k notes and I gained nearly 100 which side note why are you guys still here this can't possibly be the content you signed up for but thanks for being here)

20. Average hours of sleep: uhhh somewhere between 6 and 7, 8 if I'm on my best behavior

21. Lucky number: 21 (which is funny)

22. Instruments: guitar!! (both electric and acoustic but I've played acoustic longer)

23. What am I wearing: a navy blue sweater with thin horizontal white dashes and stripes and grey cotton trousers (also fuzzy light grey socks it's cold in my room)

24. Dream job: it's a fight to the death between being a poignant little actor in poignant little films/plays and being a LPC working with children and teens

25. Dream trip: well I was supposed to study abroad this year, Oxford in the summer with 2 of my friends and South Korea in the fall all by myself, which obviously didn't happen so I'd desperately like to still get to someday. Also a road trip with all my friends would be nice...

26. Favorite food: my mom's mac and cheese

27. Nationality: American

28. Favorite song: there are way too many songs to truly pick one but at the moment the answer coming to mind is the gambler by fun.

29. Last book I read: technically the last thing I read was the script for my university's first spring production (it's an adaptation of Three Sisters by Chekhov)

30. Three fictional universes I'd like to live in: When I was a kid I uses to roleplay being at camp halfblood with my neighbors in the woods so the percy jackson universe has gotta be one of them. I'd say the untamed because it would be cool to magically kick ass with a sword but I'm a woman so I'd probably die... Other than that idk

Alright so like I said I don't know 20 blogs but I'll tag @korimi4 @holdingthispain @waluigiapologist and @restinpeas since you're all newer mutuals of mine! (but obviously no pressure if you don't want to!)

[jamiemac26]

Our Album - Part Six

Say Something - By Jamie Mac

A Taron Egerton FanFiction - Our Album Masterlist

Hayden studied the content of her small suitcase, mentally making a list of everything she had packed and what else she needed to stuff in there. “Olivia,” She shouted for her friend, listening for footsteps as they padded down the hallway.

“What’s up buttercup,” Liv leaned against the doorframe.

“Have you seen my blue heels,” Hayden shouted from her closest.

“Aren’t they right here,” Olivia toed at the pair of heels poking out from underneath Hayden’s bed.

“What? Oh, that’s right, I wore them the other night. I can’t seem to find anything.” Hayden picked up her shoes and carefully arranged them with her other belongings.

“You two have been together for how long?” Olivia bounced down on the bed, moving things around in the case. “Seriously, where is the sexy underwear?”

“Stop, I’ve got it all organized,” Hayden slapped at her hand. “It’s been eight months, why?”

“Have you two talked about what this trip might entail, ya know, for your relationship?”

Hayden nodded her head, “We’ve discussed it a little bit. We both want to continue to keep things quiet but we haven’t figure out just how we’re going to accomplish that.”

“Are you going to the show with him?”

“He wants me in the audience, so yes.”

“Do you think he’s going to say anything?”

“About what?”

“About the fact that he’s not single.”

“Oh,” Hayden tossed in her toiletry bag, zipping up the case and setting it on the floor by her door. “I hope not.”

“So you really don’t want people to know about you two, even though it’s been almost a year?”

“Why does anyone need to know Liv? It isn’t anybody’s business who he’s dating.”

“Hayden, don’t be daft.”

Hayden looked at her friend, a slight smile on her face as she shook her head. “I like my bubble Olivia. I like that no one else is involved. I don’t want any of that to change.”

“Hon, I know all of that and I love that you are so innocent and naive but you’re dating a guy who lives in the public eye and eventually you are going to have to face the truth of that.”

Hayden sat down on the bed next to her best friend, sighing deeply, “I know Liv...I’m not completely naive. I’m just not sure that I’m ready for things to change.”

“Then why are you going?”

“He wants me to go with him and I’m not sure I want to be away from him for an extended period of time again. If there was a downside to dating Taron, it would be the fact that he’s never around.” She leaned her head on Olivia’s shoulder, feeling the comfort of her friend’s hand on her arm.

“I have to say, I wasn’t entirely sure that you two would make it this long, but now, I don’t want to see the two of you split up. I like him kid...he’s good for you.”

Hayden chuckled, “You think? I’m pretty sure he’s trying to slowly corrupt me.”

“And that is exactly why I like him!”

Hayden sat up, slapping her friend playfully on the arm. “I do not need to be corrupted. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on the side of the person who makes you happy,” Liv stood up, grabbing Hayden’s carry on luggage and her small purse. “What time is he getting here?”

“He should be here within the next hour,” Hayden glanced at her phone. “I’m going to miss you Liv but please do not destroy our apartment.”

“Oh come on, have a little bit more faith in me,” Olivia placed Hayden’s belongings near the front door. “Everything will be cleaned up before you ever get back.”

Hayden laughed, knowing full well what the state their apartment would be in when she got back.  

His dressing room contained a counter full of snacks and drinks, everything specific to his liking. A suit hung on the back of the door, ready for him to slip on, making himself presentable for the live audience. Hayden had been allowed access to his dressing room while he waited until his curtain call, at which time, she’d be escorted to her front row seat. She shifted on the small couch, her nerves getting the best of her.

Taron tapped messages into his cell phone, his eyes glancing her way every few seconds. He finally stood up, plopping down next to her. He took her small hand in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “You’re awfully cute when you’re nervous.”

She smiled, shaking her head, “Are you trying to make me less nervous?”

“Man, how did you ever guess my evil plan?”

She leaned over, pressing her lips to his. “Thank you,” She whispered as she pulled away, her head resting on his shoulder.

Hayden hadn’t been to America’s West Coast for several years but the city of Los Angeles hadn’t actually changed that drastically. She had agreed to join Taron on this mini press-tour, only after he’d begged a little. She hadn’t wanted to come, mainly due to her need to keep their relationship private. Over the last few months, they had managed to hide the fact that they were together from basically everyone not in their inner circle. Taron hadn’t been dealing with too much press during that time, as he’d been in the throve of filming movies. Now that Robin Hood was nearing its release date, the need to start the media buzzing was pressing in on them both. Hayden wasn’t sure she was prepared for them to be ousted, but Taron kept reassuring her that if they were, they would be fine, they’d make it through the worst of it.

A knock on the door brought them out of their reverie. Taron stood, opening the door to a tall thin man adorned with headphones. “Mr. Egerton, your call time is in 15 minutes.” With that he turned and walked off back down the hallway.  

Taron shut the door, removing the suit from it’s hook. He stopped in the bathroom doorway, “You going to wait for me or do you want me to have them escort you out there now?” His eyes studied her as he waited for an answer.

“I think now,” Hayden stood.

Taron reached for her hand, pulling her too him. He kissed her, slow at first but quickly increased the pressure.  His hands cradled her cheeks, his tongue swiping along her bottom lip, begging for entrance.  She allowed it, greedily, her body beginning to melt into his as her nerves fled her body. She moaned loudly as he pulled away but he just chuckled softly as he reached for the phone. A few moments later and she was following the same tall man down the long hallway. He escorted her to a row of nearly empty seats and she was very aware of the many pairs of eyes there were clocking her every move. She was aware of their whispers as she took her seat. She had been standing next to Taron when he had been told that it was going to be a full house, many expected to be there to see him. She took a deep breath and focused on the stage. The band had just finished their quick run through and another man in a headset was standing in the middle of the platform.  

All eyes were now focused on this lone figure, and Hayden was grateful for their stares moving away from her. He chatted them all up, giving them the rundown of the rules. Hayden kept her gaze forward, moving only slightly as a few more took their seats in the row with her. The two young women who sat next to her were contest winners, their squeals of delight giving away their fan status. She gathered that they were there to see Taron from the movies and posters that they clutched in their hands. She wanted to lean over and say something, talk to them about the man that they were all enamored with but wouldn’t that instantly give her away. No, instead she just sat quietly, smiling at the girls when they accidently bumped her arm in their excitement.

The host came out. The crowd cheered. The host started his monologue and the crowd laughed. Hayden even found herself relaxing and falling into the pace of the show. Throughout the commercial breaks, the band would play and the crowd was entertained with video clips and prize giveaways. The host came back and after a few more humorous jokes he introduced his first guest. As Taron’s name was announced the crowd erupted in enthusiastic cheers and screams. Hayden found herself swelling with pride for him. She had been so wrapped up in their bubble for so long that she hadn’t been fully aware of the love the world had for him. Her grin grew, extending across her face. He ran out onto the stage, looking quite dashing in the well fitting suit. More hoots and hollers were elicited from the crowd and if it were possible, Hayden’s grin grew larger.  

Taron Egerton...welcome welcome. It’s good to see you again man. Please sit and I haven’t heard a crowd this excited for someone in quite some time.

Thank you, thank you.  It’s good to be back.

So we’ll get to all the juicy details about Robin Hood in a minute, but I hear that you’re off to film an Elton John movie next, am I correct?

Yes you are.. I leave next month to start filming. I will give away a little bit of a secret though, I’ve recorded all the songs for the film and you will all be very excited.

     Taron pointed out to the crowd and they squealed in response. Hayden was quite taken with the ease at which he held himself while in front of so many people. He was a natural and he acted as if he truly enjoyed this part of the gig.

What does a day in the life of Taron Egerton look like?

When I’m working, it’s insane… So when I’ve got downtime, it’s more down, like seriously inactive really. I’ll spend the nights with my girlfriend watching Netflix, or we’ll go camping. Friday nights, I like getting together with friends for a beer down at the pub. I’ve got this solid group of guys that I went to school with and when I’m home, we’ll spend a good amount of time together. I wish I could say I live this glamorous rock ‘n’ roll life, but that’s just not the case.

     Hayden sucked in her breath. No No No, he promised he wouldn’t say anything. He promised that their secret would stay a secret. She could almost hear their bubble popping. She felt light headed. ‘Calm down Hayden, calm down! He didn’t say your name, no one knows it’s you.’ She whispered to herself.

Would you ever consider moving to Los Angeles full time, or even maybe, New York?

Ya know, at first I found it a bit foreign, almost daunting but now that I’ve spent a solid amount of time in both places, I think I’d love it. If I had the disposable cash, I’d think about getting a place but man, that’s a commitment, enit!

     During the next commercial break, Taron found Hayden in the crowd, his eyes locking onto hers. She blushed, deeply and his only response was to wink at her. She shook her head, ducking her gaze as to hide the deep crimson dying her cheeks. The girl sitting next to her nudged her and Hayden looked to her right.

The girl smiled, leaning over, “Oh my god, he just winked at you. You’re so lucky.”

This only made Hayden’s blush deepen and all she could do was smile. She was panicking on the inside, praying that the girl didn’t connect the wink and the answer together. Praying that she didn’t figure out that she was the girlfriend.  

The commercial ended and Taron’s beaming face was back for the cameras.

So Taron, can we talk about this movie that you’ve got coming out soon… It’s a beginnings story right?

Yes, it’s an Origins story of how Robin becomes this champion of the people and I do this insane style of archery that allows me to fire in quick succession. We have a great villain in the sheriff played by Ben Mendelsohn. It’s a bit dark and gritty..not like any Robin Hood that we’ve seen before.

What made you decide to do a film like this? It’s a bit different than the stuff you’ve done before?

I think that the joy of this job is the diversity of the projects. I’ve been lucky enough that I’ve had scripts come my way that are different and I’ve had the freedom to try them. I really don’t like the idea of being stuck in a box. It’s my first foray into a big-budget film without Matthew Vaughn, so it’s a bit scary but it’s what made it even more appealing. I love taking on challenges that make me not only grow as an actor but as a person as well.

This is an all star cast, with the likes of Jamie Foxx and Jamie Dornan.. You have this great habit of starring in movies with some fabulous actors and there always seems to an amazing chemistry amongst you.

This cast is amazing, truly amazing. Sometimes there is just an ease between two people, or in this case there are several, and it creates a level of playfulness that comes through onscreen. I have been very blessed in the simple fact that I get to work with so many lovely actors from all different backgrounds. We have a ball on set, it’s a real laugh.

So how was the preparation for this film different from the Kingsman films? Were the workouts as intense?

No, no they weren’t near as intense. Well, I take that back, they were intense in the strictness of diet and weight training I had to do, but the stunt training wasn’t as crazy as it was for Kingsman.

Are the fans going to be pleased with what they get to see in this film then? Are we going to see you in tights?

Ha Ha, no man. I told them I wouldn’t be wearing any tights. My girlfriend was a little disappointed though when she found out. She said that even David Bowie wore tights for a film, but tights, no man they are not my thing. I will say this, there are quite a few scenes where I am shirtless, hence the strictness of the diet, but that’s all I’m saying.

She has a point. I think you could pull off the tights.

Jamie Foxx said the exact same thing but I don’t know, I don’t really have the legs for tights, there a little on the short side.

     The audience laughed. Hayden stayed silent. Taron winked in her direction once again and the girl sitting next to her wouldn’t stop staring at her. Hayden wouldn’t turn to acknowledge the unspoken question hanging in the air between them. The conversation between Taron and the host continued but Hayden couldn’t hear them. The blood pulsating in her ears drowned out their words. It wasn’t until the tall thin man with the headphones tapped her on the shoulder that brought her back to reality. She hadn’t even noticed that Taron had left the stage, that the interview had ended.  

     “Hayden, I am so sorry. It slipped out before I could stop it. I told you I wouldn’t say anything and I go and say it twice. God, you look really pale,” Taron fawned over her, taking her by the arm and guiding her towards the couch. “Please love, say something.”

Hayden looked at him. His blue-green eyes watching her with severe intensity. “I’m okay,” Was all she could muster.

Taron pulled her to him, his arms enveloping her in his warmth. “I know that we didn’t plan things this way babe, but it’s out there now and we need to start seeing this...us, differently.”

Hayden shook her head, “What if they hate me Taron?”

“What if who hates you?”

“Them, your fans.”

“Love, they won’t hate you. They might not like this at first, but my real fans will respect that I’m in love with a kind, funny, smart, sexy and beautiful woman and they’ll see how happy she makes me.”

Hayden felt like she was going to cry. Each one of his words ebbing away at the fear that threatened to consume her. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“Good enough for who? My fans?”

Hayden nodded her head, “What if they don’t think I’m good enough for you?”

“What does their opinion matter? You are good enough for me Hayden, far better than I deserve.”

The tears dropped onto her cheeks and he carefully wiped them away with his thumb.

“Please don’t cry. This will all be okay, I will make sure that it’s all okay.” Taron kissed her forehead, keeping his arms tight around her waist.

She relaxed into him, the tears subsiding. She pulled her head back, looking at him, “I trust you Taron.”

“That’s all I ask. You ready to get out of here?”

“Yes please. Can we get food?”

He laughed, “You realize that we’re both always hungry? I think our entire relationship revolves around food.”

She giggled, accepting his hands as he pulled her to her feet. “It could revolve around worst things.. At least with food we get something out of it.”

“You are the best,” His lips found hers, the kiss soft and sweet.

     They were all smiles as they exited the restaurant, the laughter having carried over from their conversation at their table. Taron’s arm was wrapped protectively around Hayden’s shoulder and her hand rested on the small of his back. Their bodies were pressed together, very much the picture of two people in love. Hayden was feeling safe again, like his slip during the interview was a thing of the past, a minor error that hadn’t affected them in anyway. Her head was thrown back, her hand clutching at her stomach as she succumbed to the giggles. They were both so wrapped up in one another that neither noticed the cameras or the men behind them. The flashes were blinding and for a moment, they both froze. Taron was the first to act, his body moving in front of hers, shielding her from their intrusive view. Hayden felt the fear and panic creeping back, exploding the protective bubble that she felt had been repairing itself. She ducked her head, hiding her face behind his shoulder. She stayed close as he moved through the crowd, trying to get to the haven of their awaiting car. Taron held the door as she climbed in. He’d taken his jacket off, and she used it as a shield, continuing to obstruct their view. Once he was seated next to her, their world backed out by the dark windows, Hayden let the dam break and the tears flowed down her cheeks.   

No words were exchanged between them on the ride to the hotel, and Taron thanked the stars that no paparazzi were waiting for them when they arrived. He exited first, making absolutely sure that no cameras were anywhere in the vicinity before motioning for Hayden to climb out. The tears had stopped but her eyes were still red and raw with emotion. Taron didn’t know what to do, or what to say to make her feel better. This was not the trip that he had planned. Everything had been so great at dinner and to have it shattered the way it was, destroyed him. This was his fault. He never should have said anything. He should have kept his promise to her. Damn his big mouth. The silence continued as they rode in the elevator to their floor, still no words were exchanged until the door to their room was shut tight behind them.

“Hayden, please say something,” Taron leaned against the door, his eyes focused only on the woman in the room with him. He used his foot, propelling him forward. He approached her but stopped short as he noticed her small flinch. His world starting spinning. He took another step towards her and she took a tentative step away from him. “Hayden,” He pleaded.

She looked at him.

“Hayden, please… will you please say something.” Taron tried again to approach her, this time she didn’t move. He extended his hands and waited.

She looked at them, her hands slowly reaching in their direction.

His fingers closed around hers and he gently tugged, wanting to bring their bodies together. She allowed herself to be pulled towards him and she melted into him as his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He softly stroked her hair, whispering in her ear, “Please say something.”

[wwesmutdonedirtcheap]

Two Faced

Prompt: TJ and the reader “can’t stand each other” and end up being forced to share a bed together. Then feelings get confessed. @caramara3

I’m combining with another request for Bad Boy TJ being in love and not telling the reader until she makes the first move saying she shouldn’t want him but she does. After they have sex, TJ admits his feelings. @irishpoetlover

I have written a Seth fic where the two share a bed so I hope I’m able to make this one different. I’m crossing my fingers that I can get my creative mind going.

Again, tags suck.

“What do you mean, you’re booked up?” I leaned over the counter, my face flushing with anger as I stared at the desk clerk.

She looked as enthusiastic to be there as I was. I was sure the overnight shift sucked but that wasn’t my fault. Neither was the fact they had double booked some of our rooms for the night, including mine.

Of course, I didn’t find out all of this until I rolled into the lobby at midnight.

“Ma’m, I am so sorry but there isn’t a single room available for tonight,” the woman lamented, trying her best to appear apologetic.

“What am I supposed to do?” I huffed, tossing my phone onto the counter.

“Since this was our mistake, perhaps the lobby could…”

“What?” I narrowed my eyes at her “I can’t sleep in the lobby. Are you serious?”

“Seems like the only option you’ve got, princess.”

I heard a loud pop of chewing gum and I felt my shoulders tense tighter than they already were.

“Perkins,” TJ walked up beside me.

The clerk, who was around our age, blushed when he smiled at her and hurried through the computer to find his reservation.

“Yes, Mr. Perkins. Room 450,” she slid a card across toward him slowly.

“No Mister,” he winked at her, taking it and shoving it into his back pocket.

“TJ!” I turned around as he started to walk away.

“What?” he laughed sarcastically, spinning his suitcase around to stare at me “What do you want me to do? Give up my room? I got a show to do tomorrow. I need to get some rest.”

“Excuse me?” I stepped toward him, my heels clicking across the tile floor “You aren’t the only one who has a show.”

“You do interviews, sweetheart,” he cocked his chin at me condescendingly “I actually need my energy.”

“Fuck you,” I growled, folding my arms across my chest.

“Yeah, that’s not the way to get me to change my mind,” he scoffed, popping his gum even louder.

Ever since TJ decided he wanted to play Mr. Tough Guy as Neville’s lackey, I wanted to punch him every time I saw him. He used to be so sweet, so polite. Any other night, he would have offered the room up to me. Now, there he stood enjoying the fact that I was most likely going to have to camp out on a pleather sofa in the lobby.

I walked closer to him, until we were practically touching. My eyes bore into his cold ones and I felt my blood boiling.

“I need a bed. You have one.”

“The key word being one,” he smirked “You sayin’ you’re gonna cuddle up all next to me until the sun comes up?"

“Can I sleep in your room or not?” I spat loudly.

The smitten clerk’s eyes were on us and I heard her gasp quietly. When I jerked my head around, she dropped her attention to her keyboard.

“Fine,” he shrugged “It’s a king bed. Won’t even have to be near you.”

“Good,” I grabbed my stuff and followed after him toward the elevator.

“You’ve changed, you know that?” he looked over at me as we waited.

“Me?” I laughed, running my hand through my hair “What about you? Playing lap dog for Neville, like some idiot.”

“You call me that again and you can sleep in this lobby, you hear me?” he rolled his things into the suddenly open elevator.

“Ok, harsh word,” I sighed, following him “But you’re so much better than that.”

“I’m doing what I gotta do,” he chewed obnoxiously on that gum “I wasn’t getting any recognition for my work on the roster. Shit, I’m the fucking winner of the Cruiserweight Classic. You think that meant shit to them?”

“Apparently not,” I fidgeted.

The elevator dinged and we walked out, heading down the hall with our eyes trained looking for the room number.

“How do you think I’ve changed?” I asked, as we both realized it was all the way at the end of the hall.

“You’re just different,” he shrugged “You got this snotty ass way about you now.”

“You’re calling me a snob?” I stopped walking and stared at him.

“I was gonna say prude but snob works too,” he shrugged sharply, hoisting his duffle bag higher on his shoulder.

“Prude?” I shrieked and he reached over, capping his hand over my mouth.

“It’s fucking midnight,” he hissed quietly “Keep your voice down.”

I shoved his hand away and he sighed in annoyance.

“How am I a prude?” I scowled “I want reasons. Give me some. Right now.”

“Fine,” he ran his hands over his face angrily “You stick that microphone in everyone’s face like you’re on CNN or something. You don’t go out with us anymore because you wanna look professional. You walk around like you’re better than everybody…”

“Whoa,” I rolled my eyes as we started walking again “You do the exact same things. I don’t go out with you guys, because I can’t stand Neville. Besides, since you think he has your back, you think you’re untouchable.”

“I am untouchable,” he looked at me with a dead serious expression “No more nice TJ Perkins. I’m in this for me now. Just me.”

We reached the room and clamored inside with our stuff. It was fairly large and the bed was a king like TJ said. I made a line straight to the bathroom and I heard him laugh outside the door.

“What?” I called through it.

“Take your time, princess. Not like anybody else needs to use it.”

“I will!” I shouted back, a smirk of satisfaction on my face.

I took a long shower, on purpose of course. About halfway through washing my hair, the door to the bathroom flew open.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shrieked as I saw TJ through the fogged up glass.

“I gotta piss!” he slammed the toilet seat up.

I groaned and shoved my head under the water.

Thirty minutes later, I came out in my pajamas to find him already changed and glued to his MacBook.

He didn’t have on a shirt. That immediately bothered me. Before he became such an asshole, I had actually had feelings for him. He was so kind and gentle and caring. He always listened to me and asked how I was doing. Back then, I did go out with him and some of the other guys. TJ was big on places with games and go carts. He always got the most tickets when we went to a Dave & Busters. He was so much fun then.

Now he was so serious and so moody.

Staring at him topless with nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants on, literally made me draw in a sharp breath.

“Finally,” he glanced up from his computer and his gaze held.

I wasn’t sure why. I had on a t-shirt and shorts, nothing sexy or inviting at all.

“What?” I raised a confused eyebrow at him as I sunk down on the bed.

“Nothing,” he shook his head “You just look more like yourself without all that crap on your face.

He was referring to the heavier makeup that Creative had suggested I wear. I was second in the interviewing spot now, next to Renee. I also did all the 205 coverage on my own. They were trying to bump up my appeal I guess.

“Feels good to take it off,” I admitted, rolling my side of the blankets back.

I glanced back over at TJ and saw his war wounds from the night. He always got scratched and bruised on up on his chest when he wrestled. He used to say it was a mark of victory…Now who knew what he said?  We never talked much anymore.

I pulled my own Mac from the bag I had set down by the bed and opened it. The next few minutes were filled with the tapping of keyboards.

“That’s really distracting,” he glanced over at me.

“What?” I asked, not looking up from my email.

“Do you have to type right now?” he popped his gum yet again.

“Yes. Why? Do you?” I started typing faster.

“I have things to do,” he sighed.

“And I don’t?”

He opened his mouth to speak.

“And don’t you dare say because I’m an interviewer that I don’t!” I pointed my finger at him.

He let the cocky grin on his face fade and slammed his Mac shut.

“Go to sleep,” I huffed.

“I can’t with you typing like that,” he folded his arms across his bare chest “What the princess wants…”

“Why are you calling me that?” I sat my own computer down “You never called me that before, you’re being so condescending…What ever has happened to you…Really sucks, you know that?”

He didn’t speak. He just stared straight ahead at the blank television.

“You used to be this really great guy. Someone I really respected,” I continued anyway because I had wanted to say something for months.

He shifted but never looked at me.

“You were my friend. You were supportive. Now you’re just this raging asshole who has absolutely no right to call anyone snotty or changed. Because you are the one whose changed, TJ. And it sucks.”

He let out a deep sigh through his nostrils and leaned back, spitting his gum in the trash can, adjusting his pillows and turning off his bedside lamp.

I sat there, anger building that I couldn’t even get a response from him.

“You have nothing to say?” I turned toward his back “Nothing?”

“I told you, I need my sleep,” he mumbled.

“What happened to you?” I shook my head “What was so wrong with the way you were?”

He sat up angrily, the light going back on and he turned to me with his whole face contorted with frustration.

“I told you what happened. I get no fucking respect in this company. Nobody takes care of you here, you know that? You’ve got to look for your opportunities when you can get them. I saw it. I took it.”

“And changed who you were,” I slid closer to him “Changed who you are for what? To get more air time?”

“To prove a point,” his nose was almost touching mine “To prove that I am the absolute best this division has and they are throwing away opportunity and opportunity to showcase that!”

He was so determined, so fired up and so passionate. It was kind of…hot. Yes, I had crushed on the old TJ and still wanted him back but the way he was being right now was sort of attractive in it’s own way.

“I shouldn’t want this,” I whispered.

“Want what?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“You,” I said barely above a whisper.

“What?” he laughed, as if he didn’t hear me.

“I cared about you TJ. So much. And when you changed…I thought my feelings did…But maybe they didn’t.”

“Wait,” he sat back a little “You had feelings for me?”

“Have, had, I don’t know,” I fumbled nervously “I just…I thought I’d lost our friendship….I know I have.”

“No,” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, propped up on his arm facing me “No, you haven’t…I’ve been really shitty to you.”

“Why?” I turned completely toward him.

“Neville basically has a list of people he associates with…a very short list.”

“And I’m not on it,” my smile fell and I shrugged.

“I guess, I guess I let all that get caught up in my head you know?” he sighed “But I meant what I said. I’m going to show everybody to never doubt me. Never bet against me….I’m sorry about you though…You didn’t deserve it.”

“No, I didn’t,” I whispered with my eyes trained to my hands “Let’s get some sleep.”

I reached for the lamp but I felt his warm hand on my shoulder.

“Which is it?” he asked quietly.

“Which…what?” I shrugged in confusion.

“You did or you do have feelings for me?”

“Does it even matter, TJ?” I shook my head.

“Yeah,” his hand trailed up my shoulder “It kinda does.”

His fingers curled in my wet hair and pulled my face closer.

“Don’t,” I pressed my hands against his firm chest “Don’t play with me right now.”

“I’m not,” a grin came across his face that I recognized “I’m being completely serious.”

His lips hovered in front of mine, our eyes staring intently into each other’s quietly.

“What if…I like calling you princess,” he ran his tongue over his bottom lip “What if…I wanna call you mine someday?”

“Someday?” I closed my eyes nervously.

“Everyday,” he changed it, causing me to open my eyes quickly.

“TJ,” I whispered softly.

“Come here,” he groaned, pulling my mouth the few centimeters it needed to reach his.

His lips were soft as they pressed against mine. Sweet kisses at first, then more hurried. His hands roamed down to trace across my jaw line and before I knew it, he had pulled me over to straddle his lap. His hands moved down my sides and brushed along my hipbones.

“You want me to stop?” he broke his mouth away.

“No,” I shook my head, as a smile spread across his face.

He ran his hands up my back, underneath my t-shirt. I reached down and pulled it over my head. Our mouths met again and this time, he was much more aggressive.

His eager mouth went to my ear, then my neck. He was being very methodical, his open mouth sucking and moaning against each part of me.

“TJ,” I sighed as I started to roll my hips as I sat on top of him.

“You like that?” he gasped against my neck “You want more?”

This was the bad boy side. The TJ that I never thought I wanted…But I did for tonight at least.

He rolled me underneath him and quickly glided his pants off. His dick was up against his stomach and I couldn’t help but stare at him.

“It won’t bite you,” he kidded, his tongue teasing the tip of my nose playfully “Come on…”

I reached my hand down between us, encircling him and he closed his eyes. He rocked forward, rocking his dick up and down between my tightening grip.

“Take my shorts off,” I whispered.

He looked back down at me, his fingers hooking into them and sliding them down to my ankles. I kicked them off my feet and he groaned, lowering his mouth to kiss along my collarbone.

His dick was getting harder, throbbing between my fingers.

“TJ,” I gasped, his mouth sliding down between my breasts.

He moaned, but he didn’t respond, as he ran his tongue all over them while his eyes trained on mine.

“Shit,” I whimpered, my hand going into the back of his hair.

“What is it, princess?” he teased, his hand sliding down to rub across my clit.

“Call me that again, and I’ll…”

I didn’t finish. I couldn’t.

His thumb and forefinger were working a number on my body and I finally released his dick, bucking my hips up against his hand.

“Fuck,” I gasped and he laughed against my ear.

“Not that prude after all,” he licked at the shell of it before moving his mouth to my lips.

“Fuck you,” I bit into his lower lip and he laughed again.

“Shouldn’t have said that,” he smirked, withdrawing his hand.

“TJ!” I snipped quickly, the yearning between my legs now throbbing in agony.

“I got something better,” he ran his tongue over the bite on his lip, before he plunged his dick up inside of me.

“Oh my god,” I gripped his chest, digging my fingers into his skin and leaving my own marks behind.

“Yeah? You like that?” he crashed his pelvis against mine “Hold on, sweetheart.”

He quickly rolled us over again, with me landing on top. His fingers started jerking my hips violently on top of him. I bared down on him, my ass bouncing from my quick movements. He must have noticed, because his hand railed down on it several times.

“Fuck yeah,” he would groan every time he did it.

I stood up off him and he grunted.

“What the fuck?”

Suddenly he realized, I was turning around and I sank down on him, my ass firmly in his face.

His hands immediately started gripping it, rolling the flesh tightly between his rough fingers. I leaned over, squeezing his knees between my hands.

“Ride me, that’s it,” he encouraged me and the sound of his voice, all dominate and commanding, made me even wetter around him.

“Shit!” I squealed sitting back up and propping my hands back on his chest.

I once again, dug my nails into him. This time it was his pecs and he hissed between his teeth.

“Too much for you?” I glanced over my shoulder, biting down on my lip.

“Fuck no,” he laughed, his hands guiding my hips to move quicker.

I felt my body starting to gain momentum and I moaned loudly into the mostly dark room.

“What do you want me to call you?” he asked.

“What?” I gasped, my orgasm rising by the mili-second.

“What should I call you?” he asked again, his voice more hurried.

“Baby,” I whimpered, as I clamped down around him.

He grunted and in a few seconds, his moans met mine. His body shuttered up against my weak one. I dropped down after a minute or two, sliding on my back to cuddle next to him. He reached down, pulling the blanket up over us in the cold room.

“Baby,” he whispered, as his hand danced in my hair and his lips finally landed on the crown of my head.

I nodded sleepily against his shoulder.

“That sounds like I’m your boyfriend,” he tilted my chin up to look at him.

“As long as you don’t act like a raging asshole to me or refuse to play skeeball with me, then we’re good,” I danced my fingers up his chest.

“You suck at skeeball,” he chuckled, grabbing my hand and kissing the knuckles.

“I know,” I smirked “But I like playing with you.”

“Can I tell you something?” he linked his fingers through mine “If you promise it won’t freak you out?”

“Promise,” I whispered hazily against the curve of his smooth chest.

“I love you,” he stated, his voice never faltering.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I felt my heart leap into my throat, but I was trying to remain calm.

“Because I’m an asshole,” he gripped my hand tighter.

“I know that,” I smiled, pulling myself up in the bed “This TJ, I love too…So much…That TJ, the one whose out there every night and goes drinking with Neville…I only like here…In bed.”

He laughed so hard his chest shook and I smiled playfully.

“I’m serious!”

“I know,” he grinned “And baby, you can have the best of both worlds…But just you….Baby.”

I burrowed my face in his side shyly and he ran his hand down my hair.

[sentimentalica]

THANK YOU FOR NOT WEARING PERFUME

The poster "THANK YOU FOR NOT WEARING PERFUME" makes it clear that this area of the hospital has other and more clinical demands for hygiene. Anti-bacterial gel dispensers loom at every entrance, where the duty of decontamination provokes fear of bringing any dangerous microbes into this establishment. One is even encouraged to wash hands before entering the unit where the very few patients rest, the kind that lingers in between life and death and the kind that have so many tubes in and out the body that the general memory of them once being active Homo sapiens with erect posture and bipedal locomotion, is undergoing a great deal of torture. My mother has just been transported here from the cardiac intensive care unit. I´m starting to understand the few available waiting rooms they have to offer as spaces of laborious distress, feverish uncertainty and acidic hope. As if the sanitisation here promise something that cannot be promised. The second nurse that knocked on the door sits down with us. Me and my family are piercing her with ambiguous desire for truth. We read her body language, voice intonation and pauses between words with such a suspicion that even the slightest deviation in any of these languages could turn us into birds falling off a stick. We´re scared, and even though we realise quickly that the nurse simply cannot consolidate us from the dire pain, we turn to her as if mother earth has re-incarnated herself into the nurse´s veins and we are witnessing the beginning of the world. For a moment I believe that she has secret powers that can be utilised if one manage to crack a certain code. A code that would absolve my mother´s artificial coma and further alleviate the pharmaceutical burden of hollow cylinders. I fantasise about my mother´s return to the real world where I would ask her how the deep sleep was, and tell her that the three weeks she´s been gone, nothing much has really happened. Christmas will come again next year. A week ago, one of the first doctors had brought us all in for a serious talk in a small office with dark windows. Apart from her low voice and general scepticism in regards to survival rates of heart ceases, all I detect is her sharp hair cut(right under the chin) and narrow thick glasses that reveal bad eye sight and not bad judgment, as I would have preferred in this case. I want her to simply be mistaken, and that she´s one of those doctors that always make you get a second opinion from someone else. Her age is close to my mothers and for a moment, I consider my stepdad by my side and think that if this goes terribly wrong, he must find another woman. I almost forgive myself for having that thought at the same time as I wonder if that will happen and who she might be. Hospitals ads so much pressure to life, and what life even mean outside of this building. I recall my grandfather after my grandmother died, where he would juggle at least three women at the same time at the age of 76. The last one he dated I think was even blind, so the bachelor scheming made it easier for him. Silver lining, even towards the end.

Out in the hallway, I sit down and try to fathom the severity of the dramatic timespan; from waking up to 21 missed calls and a taxi ride to the hospital on Christmas day at 7 in the morning to camping here not knowing whether the gozzip magazines help or make the perspective on life worse. All the white coated labourers that are rushing, sometimes slow paced in and out of string opening doors, wearing comfortable sneakers. One of the first encounters with a nurse was a young and blonde woman with this particular dialect that somehow render spoken Norwegian into a high pitched cantata. If she would have brought on terminal illness as a diagnosis, even the worst kind possible, I would have taken it as an optimistic verdict.  As she shifts her weight from one hip to the other, I notice a round shaped snus box in the bulging pocket of her hospital pants and a funky piercing on her left ear cartilage. From her earlobe to my brothers blue eyes checking her out, I can tell that everyone is sort of moved by her more as a character than a nurse conveying crucial information. She´s not exactly Elle Driver from Kill Bill, but the fantasy of a nurse, and not just the uniform makes a lot of sense to me in this moment. She speak of my mom´s current condition with youthful grace and maternal sincerity that make me google professions in the health care field, as I wished it was me in there, taking care of her body and not someone unknown. I feel useless in this room which is half-hearted installed with standardised christmas decorations, itchy pillows, flavourless cookies and sour coffee. The view from the window is blocked by a crane and a man in orange workers clothes. His face will become my most graphic memory from these three weeks. The sky has never looked so grey and insignificant, it has compressed any imagination of a possible heaven. The blonde nurse asks if theres anything else and we all say no and thank you so much, where she replies; oh of course, I´m just doing my job. I look at my stepfather who hash´t slept for 2 days, still wearing the same clothes as he wore the morning he followed my mother in the ambulance. I listen to my sister who talks more or less to her own self-conscience about how she never wants to drink aquevit ever again, and that showing up at the hospital after a party is lethal to your nervous system. Especially on a day like this. She wants to hold my hand and rejoice into sisterhood which I quietly recoil from, not knowing exactly why, only that her touch feels like a forced contract I haven´t felt compelled to sign. A knock on the door in this room is characterised as an angst driven sigh catalyst- but many of the knocks are in fact from muslim women that are looking for empty seats and a place to crash. My mother is not the only patient at this hospital, and no one will ever, I retell myself over and over again, will be the ONLY PATIENT in a hospital. Over the next couple of days, these women as a tight knitted group and us as a tight ruptured family is at occupational war in this unit. Firstly because there are not enough chairs, and there´s only one tiny waiting room which holds so many conflicting emotions, that even to consider both parties in one space would create cumbersome discomfort. The prerequisite for potential grief is a self-centred affair that I cannot simply explain. As if the skin is eroding and extra coats become necessary, and you still feel cold. The brain feels like clouds of cotton, and not like the woven fabrics circumnavigating these female bodies as they humbly nod every time their scarfed heads pop into the glitch of the door and realise that today, this room is also occupied.

It dawns upon me that the sharing is caring concept doesn´t abide to this floor. The women eat out in the hallway, seated a part and not longer as a family. They´re spread out on one wallflowerish line, filling the X and the Y of the corridor. The smell of spices lingers in the clinical air, carried seamlessly by light human traffic. Everytime I go to the toilet I try to look at their faces for some compassionate contact. It´s difficult to put on a smile for them, although I deep down know, that this will be my only facial and gestural path to redemption. My step brother has just arrived with two bags filled with Big Macs and chilled fries from a drive in nearby, and that particular smell of burgers in itself puts me off next to the more oriental affair enclosed in styrofoam- both at combat and both appealing as its food produced outside of this institution. The Big Macs bring me back to my fast-food forbidden childhood and as I pick one up and unwrap the ordeal, I add some ketchup to make it more colourful. I take bites without chewing while my oesophagus cracks and forces by nature the happy meal further down into the stomach where it will stay as long as it wants. A late afternoon in the hospital, my father rings and as with all the consecutive correspondences over the phone during this period; the calls are being held in the hallways while walking up and down the architectural alleys. While I try to feel his far away presence perceived only as a cold digital voice today, a woman from the segregated group approaches me, and as I feel annoyed by this interruption I give her the time of the day as I already feel bad for my white middle class family being superior to the waiting room as camp site. I remove the shaking phone from my ear for a reluctant second, as I am sure this device could need a break too, in order to hear what it is she wants to say. The woman reaches out her frail hand from under the loose garment, as Mother Theresa would do it, and touches me on that part between the elbow and the shoulder cap. This area of the arm a parent deals with quite a lot I am sure, especially when dragging a difficult kid around who refuses any form of behavioural obedience. She simply says; stay strong. I nod and accept the kindness and attention of this comment directed at me, and once uttered, I conform to the idea of the universal notion that we all, during difficult times, must stay strong. I once saw this imperative "stay strong" tattoed on a strippers but cheeks. The openness that emerge from empathy sometimes doesn´t fly with strangers, as this memory of the stripper didn't fit as an incident to be shared with this elder woman.

A week more, and we find ourselves in a new hospital. The main nurse this time belongs neither in the sexy Kill Bill category or holy Mother Theresa. She has this idiosyncratic tick, involving her eyes slightly rolling backwards whenever she is saying something that is stuck between a thought and the tongue. Her eyeballs go completely white while this is happening, and as freaky as it may sound, she does return with her eyes directed at either the grim edge of the sofa or the empty kleenex box on the table. She tells us about the 50/50. A number I relate to bidding, and not to the status of a human being. She also tells us about the possible outcomes of my mother´s condition if she survives. The word "vegetable" is mentioned. My sister is asking if my mom would be a "vegetable" if she wakes up from the artificial coma. The nurse correct her, and says vegetative is the right word. Being a long time fan of words and their meanings, the difference between vegetable and vegetative has never been so irrelevant to me. Another doctor arrive with a crew of the "rolling eyes" nurse, a skin headed anaesthesia supervisor and another nurse with a pony tail lowered to the bottom of her neck. The third member of this interchangeable staff strike me as someone who might be dating the doctor secretly. The mood is clay in here- and by that word I mean terribly dark grey and mouldable. Like the material I despise more than over cooked spaghetti. The patriarchal doctor begins to formulate something we have already been told million times, and before he can continue my mind wanders off to his fancy Mercedes(maybe in chromatic silver?) and a swiss villa on the West side of Oslo. He probably has two healthy daughters that both study law and goes skiing on the weekends. I have forgotten the name of this doctor. I imagine him in the shower, longing for a mistress and a new carpet. But before I get to build my bitter and societal judgmental story around him as a figure, he says: "It doesn´t look good." And as I think to myself that there are a lot of things in this world that doesn´t look good, this one better. Denial is not a bad status, I tell you. It´s just impossible to sustain unless you want to make the leap of becoming delusional. Mixed emotions at stake, as I for a second wants him to be my dad and adopt me into his high educated life that must include a jacuzzi and a rottweiler longing for emotional cues that would enable him to be tamed like a golden retriever. I connect that fleeting disruption to me just wanting to get out of a situation that simply can't be escaped. I apologise with my eyes. I look at my sister trembling in her denim jumpsuit and red knitted sweater. She tells me that this outfit was a joke between her and my mom. I give her a hug, and one, that will last longer than expected because anything that would make the interior of this space worthwhile would be of a human interactive kind. She's way older than me, but right now, she is a 6 year old girl sobbing because my mom is late and haven't been able to pick her up on time in those solitary hours at the end of the day in kindergarten. I gel my hands twice with the anti-bacterial liquid and ask to enter the room in which my mom is situated. The sky behind her is pinkish and baby blue, making my moms pale appearance more outstandish. Contrast, in life, can paint a far more interesting picture. I whisper something into her ear that I thought at that point she would hear, but like with most one-way monologues, the wall is your squash field, waiting for a bounce. They have given her 10 litres of water due to severe hydration, so my mother is simply not recognisable where she horizontally has taken up a hospital bed. After holding her hand for a while, another nurse enters in a jolly mood, and I immediately get hopeful as I´m sure one cannot be this smiling if they don´t think she will make it. The nurse tells me that she probably can feel that I´m here and says her name out loud as if a response is expected.  It´s New Years Eve and I´m wearing a mustard coloured dress. As the nurse leaves the room, I point with my finger to my mom´s closed eyelid and slowly lifts it up to get a glimpse of her eye. Like Medusa´s left or right eye in the painting by Caravaggio, it looks stirringly dead.

"We have tried everything, but we will give her one more day, as we need to see how she react without any traces of narcosis in her body." We are back at the cardiac arrest unit. The three rounds of different epileptic medicines are not working, because my mother doesn´t have epilepsy.  The "We have tried everything" doctor´s hair is remarkably long and heavy, bundled in a thick braid.  I want to grab it and pull myself up to the tower with it like the princess in the Rapunzel fairy tale. Maybe the view up there is better than this one. At least up there, a 360 degree angle awaits. Why is it that some womens hair stop to grow at a certain length? As we depart from the last seated waiting room, another family outside is ready to take over. They have worn blankets, bleak fast food and insecure faces, that evidently, we no longer look for.

[seahawkerspodcast]

3 IN, 3 OUT – This is RuUs – Texans v. Seahawks

by fellow 12 Clinton Bonner

Flock, what can be said but Holy Catfish!!! We laughed (see Facebook GIF party for proof), we cried, we shouted at our TVs, and we came out with an incredible 41 – 38 victory at the CLink over a Texans team that can put the biscuit in the basket!

There is just so much to get to, so instead of some long opening soliloquy, enjoy the image above … because This is RuUs

You know the drill by now, when we WIN we start with an …

IN – The Love of #29

I grew up in Deer Park, NY (Long Island for many who likely don't know) … and across the street from my brother and I were this trio of big hearted brothers we had the privilege of calling best friends throughout the 80s, 90s, and into our adult lives. If the Sandlot were real life, and all sports not just sweet, sweet baseball, these guys were stars in our movie.

Recently, the eldest of the brothers passed. He played and did all things with a bigness, and a smoothness, and an everlasting smile. He knew what you were going to do before you knew. He was the best kid on the court, or the field, or the rink and if he was on your team, you usually won, and you certainly were always better because of him. His name was John and he was #29.

I mentioned some crying earlier right? When our #29 read the rook Watson like a fine piece of literature and took it back 78-yards to counter-punch against the early Texans haymaker… I stood up, raised a fist to the air and long after Walsh knotted the effort at 7, finally fell back to the couch, smiling, crying, remembering this Deer Park kid who always made it look easy, even though we all knew we could never do what he just did.

Our love and our prayers to the entire Gorman family. #GlendaLove

Enjoy #29 doing his best impersonation of Deer Park's #29

The 78-yard INT return for the touchdown by #Seahawks star Safety Earl Thomas off #Texans rookie Deshaun Watson http://pic.twitter.com/sXi9Tg44KM

— Dov Kleiman (@NFL_DovKleiman) October 29, 2017

  OUT – Try Getting Me Wright

KJ Wright is kinda a silent hero on this team. With the much bigger on-air personalities of Big Perm, Big Sherm, the aforementioned Earl, and the overshadowing in the box scores that B-Wagz would do to any teammate, KJ just does his thing and that thing is usually really, really good.

On Sunday, us Flockers saw wayyyyyyy too much of #50 trying to chase their #10 around the yard.

A few things to clarify here.

I don't pin this on KJ. Clearly this Texans offense does some interesting things to say the least, and 50 million Elvis fans can't be wrong, right? The City, States can and do put up points and they certainly create mis-matches throughout any given Sunday.

What I'm wondering is if this Texans team, who had the bye week coming into this game, schemed up some brand new plays to earn these mis-matches OR if these were plays that were already on film, and they still burnt Richard time and time again? Anybody know???

We certainly saw less of KJ covering Hopkins in the 2nd half, thankfully, and you might be saying; “So what? Hopkins still killed us!?” … and while stats don't lie, we did get this HUGE INT to Hopkins' side of the field at a crucial, crucial moment of the match!

  INTERCEPTION SEAHAWKS!! Sherman es el ladrón ahora! Si despierta la defensa de Seattle van a ganar hoy. http://pic.twitter.com/OD6VVWfe4M

— Refrigerador NFL (@RefrigeradorNFL) October 29, 2017

And FTR… Wright led the team in tackles, with 14 !!!

  IN – All Day Disruption, Starring Michael Bennett

There are MANY worthy INs. Sheesh looking down my list we're not even going to cover P-Rich or that amazing Coach Carroll fumble-forward challenge that kept a crucial early drive alive!!! We won't spotlight Frank the Tank going off and we won't even focus on Russ!

That's how good #72 was in this game.

Bennett wasn't everywhere, he was exactly where he needed to be, seemingly always. On multiple occasions throughout the sunny PNW afternoon, Bennett was 1 to 3 yards deep into the Texans backfield, blowing up a would be Lamar Miller effort. He tallied 2 huge sacks (1.5 in the record books) and he cause havoc on the line all day.

Michael Bennett also saved this game for us. Awash in the headline stats was the most crucial tackle of the game.

2nd Down and 9, 1:56 left to go on the clock.

A hole opens up along the right side of the Texans line and Lamar Miller bursts through for what looks like will be a game clinching rumble.

Suddenly, Miller stumbles, and falls forward for a gain of 5, setting up 3rd and 4.

If you re-watched the game or caught it live, Bennett gets a paw on Miller's foot and literally, saves the day.

Yup, Bennett, in his 9th year, now has 5.5 sacks on the season. But on a day drenching with dynamite plays, this tackle gave our ‘Hawks the chance we needed!

  OUT – Tre Madden

I don't get it… If you need to understand how I feel, see Tom Hanks' “Josh” in BIG.

We're never trying to rip a guy personally, but I just don't get Tre Madden's value to this team.

He's sparsely used and when he's in he doesn't block well at all. As mentioned on the FB Sea Hawkers Pod Ring of Honor during the game… Not a great look for a FB!!! Multiple times during the game he either got blown up in the backfield OR failed to sustain or even chip a guy out wide on certain stretch plays.

I know, I know… Madden had a BIG catch and run netting us a Lemieux (in yards) setting up the game tying field goal in the 3rd quarter. Tip the cap to Bevell for using a player no one was thinking of, at the exact right moment and hey, Tre executed it … can't take that away from him.

But as far as Madden's value to this team… I just don't get it.

Flocktimus shared similar sentiment on Twitter and got a prettttty interesting reaction from a certain somebody:

  IN – Return of the McEvoy

Ever since training camp came to a pretty dramatic conclusion with the cutting of “Karen” Willams, most Seahawks fans have been questioning the decision to keep McEvoy on this team. Through 7 games, McEvoy didn't do all that many things to help his argument, dropping some easy passes and throwing a pick on a trick-play.

Sunday, he had a big impact. He set up the game tying TD in the 2nd quarter with this beautiful haul on a Sexy Deep Ball by DangeRuss:

  This beautiful deep ball from Russell Wilson to Tanner McEvoy. #HOUvsSEA #Seahawks http://pic.twitter.com/WBmTME7HAf

— (@3lone) October 29, 2017

  On the ensuing KO, McEvoy put a hat on the ball, jarring it loose, nearly resulting in a turnover deep in Texan territory!

Tanner McEvoy with the big hit, forced fumble. http://pic.twitter.com/bfF5KTO5Q9

— Matt O'Brien (@mattobrien31) October 29, 2017

  And of course… well … this from earlier in the week:

Techno Thursday. #ItsAMovementhttp://pic.twitter.com/SlFLplBE0L

— Seattle Seahawks (@Seahawks) October 27, 2017

It's role players like McEvoy that help you win championships… welcome back Mac!

OUT – Kickoff with Their Heads

This OUT is less about a singular game or crucial play… but it's an OUT nonetheless.

I do not thing Tyler Lockett should return KOs for us any longer.

He should still be our PR, he's really, really smart and most often makes the most out of every attempt he gets back there.

On KOs… there's just a little something missing from Tyler's approach that was there previous to his terrible leg injury. He's almost too patient and during KOs, where you don't get too many opportunities a game to make an impact, you don't need patience, you need one-cut decisions and explosiveness.

Let's not forget Tyler led the team in receptions (tied for 6) and yards (121) on Sunday, so let's not confuse the issue here.

On KOs… this 12 believes we should try our hand with JD McKissic and measure the delta.

  Don't Worry, Be Happy

Am I the only 12 not all that concerned that we gave up 38 points at home? Not to say we'd always make this ‘trade' but we had 5 sacks, 3 INTs and a pick 6 in this game. If we exchange TDs for FGs in the 3rd quarter, we win this game going away and even with that, our red zone O looked MUUUUUUUCH better.

We're 5 – 2, we're home against a very banged-up Redskins team, and we just acquired a Pro-Bowl level Tackle… so, don't worry, be happy now!

From the Flock

My favorite part of every Seahawks week is sharing this with all the Sea Hawkers Pod 12s who make this awesome. So, who got in the mix this week… a LOT of ya, so apologies in advance if I missed your #3i3o this week and enjoy the commentary below!!!

  Ella got right to the ‘heart' of the matter with this tweet

In: P. Rich! Out: The coronary I had during Wilson's interception. #3i3o

— Ella Esparza (@EsparzaElla) October 29, 2017

  Ross was none too pleased with Germain's early efforts… most likely sparked from false starts and another bonehead personal foul!

#3I3O Out #76 @clintonbon

— Ross Bell (@RossBell1984) October 29, 2017

  Flocktimus loves a good meme… and well, so do we:

#IN #3i3o @clintonbon http://pic.twitter.com/6Fm8RR8t6u

— Keith Ketover (@FlocktimusPrime) October 29, 2017

  DCH wrote it all in one succinct FB message …well done DCH!

  Gary is smart… here's proof:

  Kevin saw the elusive ‘pocket thingy' … and so did I … thx Kev!

  Annnnd let's end this where it all begins …

In: That's why we watch football! #3i3o

— Sea Hawkers Podcast (@SeaHawkersPod) October 29, 2017

  This is RuUs 12s… This is RuUs.

Until next week, Go ‘Hawks !!!

All Seahawks fans if you are not listening to and subscribing to THE best Seahawks podcast out there, you need to #DoBetter – Enjoy the Sea Hawkers Podcast today!!! 

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