#Injury Help Tampa
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Personal Injury Lawyer Tampa
When it comes to an individual’s basic human rights, there are a number of different factors one must consider – freeing them from possible damages. And while we generally consider personal injury damages to be in the form of a physical attack, accident or injury – in many cases, such damages can take the form of certain mental abuses and unwanted verbal assaults. According to Ms. Anissa Morris, of Spinner Law Firm, considered by many to be the best personal injury attorney Tampa has to offer, there is always a delicate balance between one person’s right to freedom of speech and another’s right to protect their good name. It is often difficult to know which personal remarks are proper and which run afoul of defamation law. The following provides an overview of defamation torts and defamation claims.
#Best Personal Injury Lawyer TAMPA#Personal Injury Lawyer Tampa#Injury Lawyer Tampa#Injury Help Tampa#Best Injury Lawyer TAMPA#Best Personal Injury Attorney TAMPA#Top Personal Injury Attorney TAMPA
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Delta Landscaping
Chapter 1: Welcome to Torrey Hills
It's here.
Series Summary: In this Triple Frontier AU, the boys start a landscaping business post-Colombia.
Series Masterlist
Rating: Explicit (18+). Not this chapter necessarily, but a blanket statement to this whole concept.
Chapter Summary: As much as we want to get to the thirst, there is some setup we need to do.
A/N: I first have to thank the amazing @goodwithcheese because, without The Layover, this idea would not have come to life. This entire concept was born from a scene in one of her chapters.
This AU stays true to cannon in some aspects (Tom is dead y'all) and not in others (the boys kept some of the money and Frankie does not have a kid). There is a main storyline, but also opportunities for extras/drabbles/asks … maybe a guest post or spin-off? I've included some Easter eggs and jokes throughout, some more obvious than others. From its conception this has been a group project, so let’s keep that energy going!
Finally, a big thank you to @gemmahale (our Technical Supervisor for all things plants and protective wear) and @trulybetty (the creator of our logo) for listening to my ramblings and for their advice and encouragement along the way! @patti7dc also contributed a hilarious idea for a commercial that had me cracking up.
Ok enough of my rambling, on with the show…(I hope you like it!)
_____________________
There's something kind of magical about when an idea finally comes together in your mind. Different thoughts, images, and words swim around in your head, some of them unconsciously, until they finally coalesce in the depths of your brain and bubble up. Going from abstract to clear and defined.
Benny had been grappling with forming an idea for months. It was right there, he could feel it. But it frustrated him because it never came together the right way.
_____________________
Nine months earlier
In the immediate aftermath of Colombia, the Delta Force boys tried to process what happened, each in their own way. Santiago took off for a few months traveling on his own, finding solace in discovering new places. Frankie came back with a renewed focus to get his life together, talking to a therapist Will recommended to him and going to weekly meetings. The more quiet and reserved one of the group, Will continued to find ways to help other veterans. He volunteered at the local VA and shuttled veterans to and from medical appointments. He found driving to be soothing for him – having a set path, a direction to go in, and accomplishing something. Sometimes his passengers wanted to talk, sometimes they didn’t. He was comfortable either way.
And then there was Benny. He needed to keep his body in motion to try and silence the whirl that went on in his head. Fighting helped. He continued training, getting booked for local fights in Tampa, sometimes making it over to Orlando or as far as Jacksonville. At first, it helped him numb some of the pain. He felt like dealing with physical injuries was easier than his mental or emotional ones.
When he wasn't fighting or training, he found himself returning to a love he had as a kid – drawing. At first, he didn't really draw anything in particular, just doodles. But eventually, his doodles started to form beautiful landscapes and vistas…pulling inspiration from places he had seen during his time in the service. The activity brought him a sense of calm, using his hands to concentrate and make something. It didn't have to be perfect or beautiful, it just was.
Months passed and the guys just sort of existed in this newfound reality. None of them really talked about Colombia to each other, leaving the hurt and pain largely unspoken. Benny, Will, and Frankie would see each other often throughout the week. Santiago would FaceTime occasionally depending on where he was in the world. Although the guys kept some of the money from their mission, none of them had really spent it. Benny never did end up buying that Ferrari.
One day while driving back home to the apartment he shared with his brother, Will decided to take a detour to drive through a few different neighborhoods. He and Benny tossed around the idea of buying a house together, even going so far as visiting some open houses together to check things out.
This neighborhood, Torrey Hills, was particularly beautiful, with a palm tree-lined entrance and expansive water fountain greeting you on the drive in. Will aimlessly drove around taking in the Mediterranean-style architecture. Lots of two-story homes, stucco and white brick, raw iron and metalwork. There were some ranch-style homes sprinkled throughout as well. He noticed one in particular that had a for sale sign – 319 Mulefall Court.
Parked on the street, he grabs his phone to do some quick research. He checks on the price of the house first, a lot lower than he was expecting just based on the looks of the neighborhood, which he confirms once he looked up some recently sold homes nearby.
"What's wrong with you?" He mumbled toward the house, wondering why it was valued so much lower than everything around it.
The housing market in Tampa was pretty competitive, something Will and Benny had already realized. Oftentimes by the time they found a house they both liked it was already under contract or had multiple offers. They conveniently kept the fact that they could pay cash for literally any house they wanted from their realtor; they wanted the house they chose to be special.
Will continued looking over the specs of the house. Four bedrooms, two and a half baths. Two-car garage. Pool. Pretty spacious backyard from the photos and from what he could see from the street. A beautiful, old oak tree in the front yard. He noticed there weren't too many photos of the interior of the house or much of a description.
Normally, he would text a listing to Benny to get his thoughts, but this time he went straight to calling the realtor’s number on the sign. The realtor, Ethan, picked up and was a bit surprised someone wanted to talk to him about that property. It had been sitting for a couple of months without an offer, so Ethan was eager to set up a showing for the next day.
When he arrived home, Will saw Benny sitting at their kitchen table, head down over his notebook with a pencil in hand.
“Hey man, what’re you doing?”
“Nothing just got an idea for something,” Benny said, not looking up.
Will heads to the refrigerator to pull out a beer, grabbing one for his brother as he goes to sit down in the chair across from him.
“D’you have a good day?” Benny asks, putting down his pencil and grabbing the beer from Will.
“Yea, Mr. Jacobs seems to be doing better.” Will pauses to take a swig of his beer. “So…I saw a house today.”
“What?”
“Well, from the outside. I have a showing tomorrow morning if you want to go.”
“Yea, where is it?”
“You know that Torrey Hills neighborhood? It’s in there.”
“Wooo, that neighborhood is nice! Are you sure you want to go all fancy?”
“It is a nice neighborhood for sure, it seems quiet. This place looks like it needs … some work.”
“How much work?” Benny is a bit skeptical of what his brother may be getting them into, but trusts that Will wouldn’t do anything too rash.
“It’s going to be a project.”
“A project?
“Yea. The house has been sitting for a couple of months,” he said as he fished out his phone from his back pocket, pulled up the listing, and handed it over to Benny. “Look, I figure we go in and take a look to see how bad it is. You know how much shit we built with Dad back in the day. We can even call Joel to see if he thinks it's doable for us to fix it up ourselves.”
Benny looks up from the phone and gives a little smile as he hands the phone back, “Sure, man. Sounds good.”
Will and Benny could buy any house. But rather than buy something brand new, they wanted to buy a house they knew needed a lot of love and care. They wanted little projects they could work on, either together or by themselves.
______________________________
As the guys walked through the threshold of the house with Ethan in tow, they realized they may be biting off more than they can chew with this place.
“Shit, how long has this place been empty?” Benny asks as he looks around.
“Well, the house was built in the ’90s and had the same owner for about 20 years before it became an Airbnb,” Ethan said as leaned on the kitchen counter. “Then, some guy bought it, trying to do some real HGTV-type shit in here. Bought it before the pandemic, but didn’t realize how much work goes into a complete flip, you know? It’s not like the TV shows. Anyway, he ended up getting in over his head with it and then the foreclosure happened. He left the place an absolute goddamn mess,” he gestured around. “The neighbors have been on my ass to get this place sold. The curb appeal is kind of bringing down the block.”
Will quietly walks around the living room, his mind working through logistics. He comes into the kitchen where Benny was checking out the cabinets and appliances.
“Ethan, can you give us a minute?”
“Yea sure, I’ll be out in the backyard, y’all take your time,” Ethan said as he attempted to open the glass door leading out to the back porch. Struggling, he decided to head back out to the front door and unlock the fence to the backyard.
“So, what do you think?” Will asked, arching his eyebrows.
“Psh, I don’t know man, this is kind of a shit hole, right?”
“Yea, but like … we could do this. Maybe get Fish to come over and we can demo the inside. Start from scratch?”
“We should call Joel.”
Their cousin was a contractor in Texas, so he would be able to give them his honest opinion of whether or not they could do this. They ended up calling him on FaceTime so he could see what they were dealing with.
“I mean, it’s not gonna be easy or quick, but I think y’all could do it,” his low Southern drawl reverberating in the empty living room. “Plus, when you’re all done I can come out and inspect it for you. Sarah has been bugging me about taking her to Disney,” he laughed.
“Oh hell yea, that would be awesome!” Benny lit up starting to see how it could all come together based on Joel’s suggestions.
Will hadn’t seen his brother get this excited about something in a while.
“Ok, Joel. We’ll talk to you soon … tell Tommy and Sarah we say hi.”
“Later guys.”
Hanging up and looking back at Benny, who still had a smile on his face, Will clears his throat.
“So, what do you think? Should we do it?”
“You already know what I’m going to say!”
“Alright, let’s go talk to Ethan,” Will says motioning to the front door.
Coming out of the front door, they head out around the right side of the house, picking their feet up high to walk through the overgrown grass and weeds.
“This fence looks a little rough,” Benny observed, jiggling one of the loose boards.
“Hey, stop that! Don’t fucking pull it out.”
“....that’s what she said?” Benny laughs.
Will rolls his eyes, slapping his brother on the chest. “You’re so fuckin’ stupid.”
As they head back, they notice the pool. Ethan was standing at the edge looking at his phone. He hears them traipsing through the overgrowth and turns around, “Hey guys, what do you think?”
“Well, it’s going to need a lot of work, that’s for sure, but, we want to make an offer.”
“Shit, really? I mean … cool. Yea ok, I’ll draw something up and send it over.”
Giving them both a handshake, the men start to walk back to the front. Benny pulls out his phone taking a few photos of the backyard and the front as they make their way back to Will’s Jeep.
Ethan gives them one final wave before pulling out of the driveway and heading out.
Will and Benny walk up to the driveway and give one final look at the house, Benny snapping a few more photos. They hear someone clear their throat behind them. Turning around they see a woman, around their age, walking a corgi.
“You guys going to buy that?” she nodded towards the house.
“Uh, yea we’re thinking about it,” Will said cautiously while Benny bounded past his brother to crouch down to pet the dog.
“Aw man, I love corgis!”
“Ha, thanks, he loves people so you’re making his day. My name is Megan, that's Bucky.” She extended her hand to shake Will’s first, looking down at Benny who got back up. Removing his backward baseball cap and putting it in his left hand to shake her hand.
“I live over there, the blue two-story with the basketball hoop,” she says pointing over to a house a few doors down and across the street.
“Do you play basketball?” Benny asks, reaching back down to give the dog some belly scratches.
“No, but my son does.” She reaches up to brush some hair out of her face and the boys both notice the huge diamond on her finger.
“What’s the neighborhood like?” Will could tell it was a nice neighborhood, but still wanted to do the proper reconnaissance.
“Oh, it’s pretty quiet. A few families, but some singles as well,” she eyes them both up and down. “You have some nice neighbors on both sides of you. We’ve been trying to have more events together, block parties, and stuff. Hopefully, you boys can fix up this piece of shit and we can all come over,” she smiles tilting her chin up at the house.
“Yea, well that’s the goal.” Benny looked up smiling, continuing to play with the dog.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you around hopefully.” She waves and continues her walk.
Later that night, Will was sitting in the living room playing some zombie video game when he noticed Benny head back over to his chair at the dining room table, notebook, and pencil in tow. Except this time Benny had some colored pencils with him too. Will saw his brother prop up his phone, using it as a reference for whatever he was drawing. A small smile on his face as he got to work.
______________________
The next month was busy getting everything together with the realtors. During that time, Santiago returned from his travels, wanting a bit more stability than the nomad life. He and Frankie had been helping the brothers pack.
Closing day comes and before they go in to sign the papers, Will pulls out his phone.
WILL: Headed in now to close on the house…should have the keys by 5. You guys want to come over and check it out?
FRANKIE: Yea, Pope and I can head over after I get out of work.
BENNY: Sweet, see you guys later. Bring beer!
“Goddamn, my fucking hand hurts,” Benny puts his pen down and massages his hand. “I didn’t realize we had to sign so much shit.”
“What did you think, we would sign one paper? We’re buying a house.” Will chuckles.
_________________________
The boys waited approximately one day before fully starting Operation Bachelor Pad, as Benny put it. Will continued to lean on Joel’s advice about what materials to buy and avoid and techniques to use. Joel even sent them a new set of power tools as a housewarming gift.
The sweltering weather made working outside on the yard a bit of a hassle, but one of Will’s first orders of business was to clean up the front so it wasn’t such an eyesore to the neighbors. Between the four of them, they were able to knock it out rather quickly. Will mowed the grass, while Frankie meticulously edged. Being the tallest of the group, Benny worked on pulling leaves out of the gutters with Santi’s help. They pulled weeds and removed a couple of dead shrubs. When they were all done, the boys sat in some folding chairs in the driveway drinking from their bottles of water.
“It’s so fucking hot out,” Frankie said as he took his hat off, wiped his forehead and combed his hair with his hand, before returning his hat to his head.
“How am I this sweaty?” Benny grunted as he peeled off his T-shirt, resting it on the back of his chair.
“What, you trying to give a show to all of the housewives?” Santiago teased him.
“Fuck off, it’s hot. If the pool wasn’t such a goddamn disaster I would jump in there,” Benny laughed.
Will looked up and saw Megan walking towards them holding a basket.
“Hey boys,” she smiled.
“Hey Megan,” Will got up, meeting her at the front of the driveway. “What’s this?”
“Where’s the corgi?” Benny yelled. Will turns around to glare at him. “Just kidding, hi Mrs. Megan!”
“Oh my god, Benjamin, please do not call me Mrs. It makes me feel old,” she chuckles. “Here, I wanted to bring something by, not sure how stocked your fridge is yet and I saw you had some friends over.” She nodded to the group behind Will.
Handing over the basket, Will sees she had arranged a few bottles of water and Gatorade, along with some homemade cookies and a gift card to a pizza place.
“Wow, thank you, this is so nice,” Will smiled. By this point, Benny had walked up to see what was in the basket too.
“Nice, this is awesome!” he said, pulling out one of the cookies and stuffing it in his mouth. He noticed Megan giving him a quick up and down, so he stood a little taller. “This is fucking amazing. Are you a cook or something?”
“Baker. And no, not professionally or anything. I just dabble.”
“Well, you can dabble with us anyti-” he chokes as Will hit him in the side of the stomach. “Shit. I, uh, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry,” he looked down bashfully.
“I know what you meant, all good,” she laughs. “Well, I should be heading out.”
“See ya later!” Benny waved, grabbing one more cookie from the basket before bouncing back towards the chair.
“So, are all of your neighbors hot?” Santiago asked with an arched eyebrow. “May need to move in here myself.”
“Fuck off, Pope. She’s nice. She’s actually one of the first people that has come by to say anything.”
________________
It was so fucking hot outside. Florida summers were no joke. As a result, the boys used the next few months to completely renovate the inside of the house. They installed new countertops in the kitchen, laid down hardwood floors, upgraded nearly every appliance or fixture in the place, and fixed the glass sliding door to the back porch. As the months went on, the house became a source of their collective pride and joy; they reveled in their handiwork.
Megan would come by every so often to say hi. She introduced the guys to a few other neighbors and it felt like they were starting to develop a home base. Even though Frankie and Santiago didn’t officially live there, they may as well because they were over all the time, even when Will and Benny were gone.
As the weather got cooler, by Florida standards, the boys decided to focus on the outside of the house.
One day as they were sitting around watching a football game on a lazy Sunday, Benny got up and headed out of the living room with a purpose.
“Where the fuck is he going?” Santiago looked over the couch to where Benny ran off to.
“Who knows, the kid has been really focused on something and I don’t know what it is,” Will said.
“Ok! I got it!” Benny ran back into the room with his notebook and a pencil in tow.
The other three looked at him with confused looks.
“I’ve been thinking about what to do with the yard, but I think I finally figured it out. This was the missing piece.” He quickly scribbled some things down and turned his notebook around.
“What are we supposed to be looking at Ben?” Will asked, confused and trying to read what Benny’s chicken scratch said.
“Ok, look,” Benny sat in the middle of the couch, Will and Frankie on either side and Santiago came over to sit on the back of the couch, looking over his shoulder.
“Let’s start in front. We need to replace the fence on both sides and put in a swing gate, that’s easy. I’m thinking we do some flower beds here in the front. I haven’t decided what kind of flowers yet. But leading from the front porch over to the fence we’ll put some flagstone pavers down. Yea, I think that’ll look nice. Oh, and a couple of planted pots here in the front,” he motioned to circles he drew on either side of the door.”
He keeps rambling as the other three look at each other, Benny oblivious to them.
“Oh and then on the left side of the house, I’m thinking some permeable pavers so that the water can drain, will help us not have standing water to avoid excess mosquitos and algae and shit. That side of the fence is bigger so we can easily get the lawn mower into the backyard that way and not fuck up the grass as much.”
Moving the paper closer, he points to the left side of the paper. “Ok, so once we get into the backyard, I think we line it with some raised flower beds. Near the pool, we’ll have some more perennials. We’ll add some more planted pots on the porch. Maybe some string lights or something.”
“And then this is what finally came together!” he smiled pointing to the back right of his drawing. “I think … wait for it … we build a gazebo thing.”
“Isn’t that called a pergola?” Santiago asked.
“Same shit. They’ll be a structure back there. With some shrubs up to the fence line. We can put a palm tree out there, some more flagstone pavers, and then we include a little water fountain in one of the perennial beds here.”
When he finished, he leaned back on the couch and exhaled, pleased with himself and excited that his idea finally came together.
“So that’s what you’ve been working on, huh?” Will smirked.
“Yea man, I … I don’t know. Ever since we came here for the first time I had this … vision. Like, I could see it, but I couldn’t. So I’ve been working on different designs.” Benny paged through his notebook showing numerous mockups of their backyard.
“Holy shit, Ben, that’s awesome,” Frankie looked over at Benny. “But what if you put a grass bed over here by the utilities.”
“Yea … yea, that could work Fish!”
_______________________
Over the next few weeks, Benny and Frankie continued to tinker with the design, sending Will and Santiago out on Home Depot runs to get things off their list.
As they did working on the interior of the house, they found themselves opening up to each other as they worked, finding that keeping their hands and bodies busy gave their minds time to process.
And they worked hard, completely rejuvenating the look of the house both from the inside and outside, so much so that the neighbors took notice.
Megan was the first to come over to ask if the guys could look at her lawn. Benny made a few easy suggestions, offering to fix it up on weekends. Then another neighbor and another neighbor. Before they knew it, the boys had worked on nearly every house on their block, which helped them get to know everyone.
One night as the boys were hanging out in the backyard, Benny came up with another idea.
"Ok, hear me out," as he opened the cooler to grab beers for everyone.
Frankie was by the grill and turned around to peer over at Benny. "What Benjamin? What job did you sign us up for now?" chuckling as he took a swig of the beer Benny handed him.
"Landscaping."
Cocking his head to the side, Santiago repeats back matter-of-factly, "Landscaping."
"Like what, do it professionally or something?" Frankie laughs.
Benny looks over at Will who was observing, taking it all in.
"Oh come on! Look at what we did with this place," gesturing around to the backyard.
They all had to admit they did a beautiful job with the backyard. It has been almost therapeutic for them, working on this house together.
“We’ve already been doing it! Megan’s lawn. Fish, you had a great idea for Melissa and Derek’s backyard, they fucking loved what you and Pope did with the place. We … we could do this for other people. Figure out how to make shit better.” He pulled his cap off, brushing his hair.
Although the other three had always seen Benny as the little brother, bouncing off the walls with energy, they had to admit he had a newfound focus when it came to the projects around the house. His brain was crawling with ideas. Plus, they were having fun working on projects for their neighbors. They had gotten very close to some of them.
"This could be a legit business for us. I even have a name I came up with. Wait for it…Delta Landscaping!" He beamed, clearly proud of himself and waiting for the guy's reaction.
Next Chapter
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first installment of this series! Seriously thank you to everyone who has sent me a message or a comment in the lead-up to this. I’ve had so much fun interacting with all of you and it has been a bright spot in my days for sure.
Let me know if you want to be on the tag list moving forward!!
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idk if youll do this but joe burrow x a hockey player? maybe y/n plays in the nhl (or wnhl) and theyre kinda a power couple or something?
NHL - Joe Burrow
*gif cred to owner*
I’m gonna do it as a woman forward in the NHL and I know the the timelines are kinda wonky considering NHL playoffs are way after NFL’s but just pretend mkay? Thanks.
_________________________________________________
“He plays a pussy sport.” One of the men from Tampa snarled as you lined up for the face-off, “Pussy sport for a pussy man.”
Your team, the Blue Jackets, were currently at home for a playoff series again the Tampa Bay Lightning.
“Who?”
“Burrow. Can’t even win a championsh-“
The ref dropped the puck before he could finish his sentence, you quickly winning the faceoff as it went to Nick Blankenburg.
“Fuck you.” You hissed as you hit him against the boards. He had went after the puck, you knocking the absolute shit out of him, that freeing up the puck, allowing you to knock it to your closest player.
What you didn’t notice until you heard the whistle was the man on the ice below you.
“Hmm. What’s that about a pussy man?” You asked as you skated away.
***
“Did you see the way she just took him down?” Ja’mar grimaced as Joe let out a laugh.
“Nothing new.” He replied, “i just hope she isn’t going to get hurt one of these days doing that.”
Joe and his teammates were on an off day, but the Bengals front office had worked with the Blue Jackets to get seats for the Bengals to attend the game
It had been an earlier game that day so it was easy for them to clear schedules to allow them to attend. Plus it showed support for the other teams near them.
One of the opposing players had went in for a hit on you. You crumpled to the ground, tightly gripping your shoulder, your head on the ice as chaos ensued around you, whistles blowing and you slightly getting nudged as you felt other skates hitting yours on accident.
You looked up to see your line mate, Cole Sillinger, with his gloves off as he had ahold of the players jersey.
Cole was protective over his line mates, especially you. And it got worse as he got older, knowing the injuries could be career ending.
He delivered a punch to the players jaw as your dropped your head again, the trainer kneeling next to you.
Joe was watching intensely as he and his teammates had a perfect view of you on the ground at center ice, writhing in pain as you held your shoulder. His heart was dropping even more as time ticked on and you still hadn’t gotten up off the ice.
“C’mon, let’s get you up.” The trainer sighed as you leaned up, your hand cupping your arm. Zach Werenski had your other arm around his shoulder, allowing him to help you to the bench easier than the trainer could as your balance was wonky.
“It hurts.” You whispered as you looked at him, tears in your eyes. This had been your worst injury yet and could potentially knock you out of the remainder of the playoffs.
“You’ll be fine kid.” He gave you a soft smile, “Go get help and get back out here with us.” He said as he patted your head, allowing the trainer to take back over as he guided you down the tunnel, you continuing to hear cheers from the crowd and stick taps from your teammates.
——-
“You about gave me a heart attack out there.” Joe said as he immediately brought you into his arms, carefully watching your, now, slinged shoulder.
You were going to be out a week or two- just to make sure there was no further damages while this healed.
And better yet, your boys had pushed forward and beat Tampa, sending you all to the second round of the playoffs.
“I’m sorry.” You muffled into his chest.
“How you feeling?” You heard someone ask from behind you, Boone and Cole walking up behind you as you turned around, Joe’s hand on your lower back as you spoke to your teammates.
“Sore.” You chuckled, “but I shouldn’t be out more than a week. The tendons are just sore, no tears and it wasn’t popped out so we’re all good.”
“Thank god.” Cole let out a sigh of relief, “I need ya out there. Who else am I going to set up for the league lead?”
Boone smacked the back of Cole’s head before rolling his eyes, “Good to hear though. Get some rest, get healthy, and get back out there with us. We need Mighty Mouse out there battling with us.”
“Will do Cap.” You said, “Plus, I’m pretty sure I’m in good care and won’t be lifting a finger.”
“Damn straight.” Joe added as you bided the others goodbye before you met up with Joe’s teammates that had attended.
“You about gave Joe a near heart attack.” Sam laughed, “Glad to see you’re doing okay though.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say okay, but I’m alive and it’s not serious so.”
****
Social media went absolutely crazy when there were photos of you and Joe snapped as you two left Nationwide, your arm in a sling and Joe’s arm around your shoulder.
It was bound to happen, but questions were everywhere when you showed up to the Bengals game against Kansas City, one that would send them to the Super Bowl, once again.
“I still don’t understand why you’re here.” Ally commented as she sat next to you in the press box, “If I was injured, Sam would be on his own here today.”
“He showed up for me, even when his ACL was torn.” You shrugged as you took a sip of your water- although you were eyeing her margarita that was in her hand. Due to the season, you chose not to drink because even though you were out for the next week or so, you didn’t want to mess everything you had achieved up to this point. With the second round around the corner, you didn’t want to risk anything that could jeopardize the teams chances of making the conference final.
“Okay you’ve got a point.” She said as as a few other of the wives and girlfriends sat down next to you two, getting ready for the game to start.
A few had asked how you were feeling, making sure you didn’t need anything, and just overall being good friends to you.
“I’m glad it wasn’t anything more serious that it was.” Ally said as she watched the offense come out onto the field, “I know they all like watching you play. Us too honestly.”
You gave her a soft smile, “Me too. If all things go like planned, I’ll be-“ you cut yourself off as you jumped up, cheering as Joe passed the ball to Ja’mar, him running it into the end zone, “Let’s go! Atta boy!”
Ally laughed and cheered next to you as you all passed around high-fives.
“What were you saying?” Ally asked as you all say back down, the celebration dying down.
“Oh yeah! I should be back by late next week as long as nothing else pops up on the scans.”
“That’s good to hear.” She softly smiled as your conversation fizzled out, you both going back to watching the game.
The game continued without a hitch. It was the final five minutes and you and the others had decided to make your way down to the locker room. There was a 24 point deficit so you all were certain that they would be making a trip to the Super Bowl once again.
Hearing the cheers of the fans and then the thumping of the music in the stands, you knew it wouldn’t be long before the boys would be heading your way. You could hear their shouting as they neared you all, grins present on everyone’s faces as the celebrations started.
Coach Taylor did his duties, giving speeches and passing out game balls before breaking the boys, allowing them to have some fun.
“Way to go nine.” You grinned as you neared him, “I’m so proud of you.”
“I wouldn’t be here without you.” He said as he carefully tugged you into his arms as he placed a soft kiss on your lips.
“Glad to know I’m an important part for you.”
“Oh trust me you are.” He laughed, “I’m just hoping I am for you too.”
“Oh most definitely,” you said, “but right now, this is all about you. Let’s get you that ring nine.”
“As long as it’s your turn after.”
“I think we can try and arrange that.”
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i love eddy so so much, can you do some fluff where either the reader or eddy has had a bad day and they just comfort the other
you were napping in ethan’s bed, waiting for him to come back from class, when the door slammed shut and your eyes flew open. a loud yell of “fuck” echoed around the room and you sat up, rubbing your eyes.
“shit, babe, i didn’t know you were here already.”
“yeah, second class got cancelled so i came after the first. you okay?” he could tell by your voice that he had woken you up, which only soured his mood even more.
“i woke you up didn’t i?” he dropped down onto the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
“s’okay. needed to wake up anyway.” you threw the blankets off of you and moved so you were sitting next to but behind him. you ran one hand up his back and let the other rest on his shoulder until the other got there, giving him a soft massage. “what’s wrong?”
“how bad would it sound if i said everything?” he asked, sitting up a bit.
“just because it feels like everything doesn’t mean it is,” you said softly. he let out a sigh, leaning back so he was laying on the bed, though his feet were still on the floor. you leaned back on one hand to focus on him still and the other fell to rest on his stomach.
“i failed that test. got the grade today.”
“that’s not the end did the world. i’ll help you study next time and we can get your grade back up. there’s still plenty of time in the semester.”
“i woke you up from your nap.”
“ethan, you know that’s not a problem. i would’ve woken up soon anyway.” he sighed, bringing one hand up to cover his eyes.
“hey,” you laid down next to him, sliding your hand on his stomach up to pull his hand away and cup his jaw. “what’s really going on?”
“i don’t think i’m playing in tampa,” he whispered, and you could see tears in his eyes.
“baby, i know it sucks but-“
“but you bought a ticket to fly there and watch me play! and my parents are coming. and this is such a big thing for the team and i don’t get to play with them! i don’t get to help them. what if they lose?”
“ethan, calm down, take a deep breath.” you waited until he did as you told him to and then you nodded. “frozen four is still a week away. you don’t know for sure how you’re going to feel by then.”
“but my wrist hasn’t been feeling any better since it happened.”
“and if you don’t get to play, it sucks. it really does. because i know you want to be out there playing and helping your team get the win but you know what won’t help them? you going out there with an injury and not playing your best. or worse, hurting yourself again.”
“yeah, i guess so.” he didn’t sound very sure of his words though.
“hey, i know you’re mad about it, it’s such a shitty thing to happen. but you have to listen to the trainer so you get better and not more injured.”
“i know,” he whispered, and you finally saw a tear roll down his cheek.
“and you know what?” he hummed, acknowledging your question. “i’m still gonna love you whether you play or not. because you’re still my super talented, super hot, super good in bed boyfriend, ethan edwards.” his cheeks flushed at that and you couldn’t help but grin.
“i love you too, no matter what.”
“good,” you said, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. “now let me tell you about this whack ass dream i was having.”
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Ronnie Antonio Paris was born in Tampa, Florida, on the 9th of December, 2001, to Nysheera and Ronnie Paris Sr. Two months after his birth, somebody reported to the state’s abuse hotline that his mother was not seeking medical help for him despite the fact he had been vomiting for more than 24 hours. Ronnie was admitted to hospital, where staff said his vomiting was most likely caused by his mother overfeeding him.
In April 2002, Ronnie was vomiting again and was suffering from dehydration. Caseworkers removed Ronnie from his mother because of her “failure to follow medical advice” which included failing to seek medical help and not giving him a recommended drink called Pedialyte. Ronnie was placed into the care of his grandparents, where his father, Ronnie Sr., was also living.
Just the following month, Ronnie was back in the hospital because he had lost a substantial amount of weight. While in the hospital, doctors discovered that Ronnie had fractures in one arm and one leg that were around three weeks old. Ronnie was removed from his family but the Florida Department of Children and Family Services. As per the police report: “The injuries are clearly nonaccidental.”
Ronnie was sent to live with Faye Bing, his foster mother, and she welcomed him as part of the family. He was just like a brother to her two daughters, and she taught him to walk. She described Ronnie as a playful and happy child who always laughed. Nysheera and Ronnie Sr. were allowed to visit their son at his home; Nysheera reportedly followed him around the house while Ronnie Sr. sat on the couch paying him no attention.
For the next two years, Ronnie remained with Faye, and she had expressed her desire to adopt him. However, on 14 December, Ronnie was returned to his parents after they completed parenting courses. The family lived in an apartment on Humphrey Street, and according to neighbours, they often heard blazing rows. Teia Davenport, who lived in the apartment above them, recalled how she frequently heard shouting, fists banging on doors and objects being thrown against walls.
Faye continued to visit Ronnie, driving up from Bradenton. Each time, Ronnie cried in her arms but he refused to talk. Concerns started to surface for Faye, particularly when she noticed what looked like a burn mark on his forehead and a bruise on his cheek during a visit in early January...
𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞:
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A cross-county chase involving multiple law enforcement agencies ended with a Tampa man under arrest.
The suspect, Walter Medina, was wanted out of Hillsborough County for allegedly inflicting months of torture and abuse on a woman he held captive.
On Tuesday afternoon, the Florida Highway Patrol was advised of an active pursuit of the suspect traveling east on Interstate 4 heading from Polk County into Osceola County.
Investigators said the suspect, driving a gold Town and Country Ford van, attempted to get away from law enforcement by driving at high speed and weaving in and out of traffic recklessly, endangering other motorists.
FHP troopers, deputies with Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office and officers with the Lakeland Police Department continued to pursue the suspect who they say began driving on left shoulder at more than 100 miles per hour.
Law enforcement attempted several precision immobilization techniques (PIT) maneuvers but were unable to stop the suspect’s van.
At one point, investigators said the suspect hit another vehicle and drove off the exit ramp at John Young Parkway and then, after running a red light, crashed into a raised median.
After the crash, troopers said the suspect refused to comply with commands, so FHP K-9 Rico was deployed, who apprehended the fleeing suspect.
Medina popped up on law enforcement’s radar on Monday after Hillsborough County deputies responded to a gas station in Seffner after a caller reported an injured female had just escaped from a van and needed help.
According to deputies, the victim, who had been panhandling in the area since 2024, met the suspect, Walter Medina during that time. Investigators said Medina initially provided the victim with food and narcotics before his actions turned violent and “subjected her to months of relentless physical abuse and captivity.”
Deputies said that Medina repeatedly assaulted the victim using a wooden baseball bat and a flathead screwdriver, inflicting severe injuries including broken ribs, deep puncture wounds, and extensive bruising.
Medina allegedly threatened to kill the victim if she fled or sought help.
The victim had the chance to escape when Medina briefly left her unattended at Walgreens, deputies said.
“I can’t imagine the torture this victim endured for months, but I can imagine the relief she felt when our deputies arrived,” said Sheriff Chad Chronister. “I have to commend the bravery of the victim for escaping her captor and seeking help. Our thoughts are with her as she recovers from this traumatic ordeal.”
“This suspect’s reign of violent terror is now over,” Chronister added.
Walter Medina was transported to Orlando Regional Medical Center after his arrest. When he is released from the hospital, Medina will be taken to the Orange County Jail to be booked on multiple charges, including attempted murder and kidnapping.
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in terms of the zegras trade talk, is there any way (in terms of cap situation etc) that it would be possible for him to join jamie in philly?
and which teams do you think it are likely for him to go to otherwise?
thank you in advance <3
Hi there anon! So so sorry for the delay on this, I hope you're not too mad at me.
Your question is incredibly intriguing, but it's not quite exact. Any team, theoretically, can pick up Zegras, as long as they move the right pieces back or conduct the proper cap gymnastics. That being said, many GMs will not find him worth the price, and, furthermore, not worth the hassle of potentially taking a sledgehammer to the future.
Moving Zegras during the season (as in before the trade deadline) versus in the offseason would play out drastically differently under the cap and mean different decisions from Verbeek and co. Meet me under the cut for more!
So let's talk about the cap. I don't know how much you know about it, anon, but let me give a quick refresher. The NHL has a "hard" salary cap; teams cannot surpass the limit, full stop. (This is contrasted with MLB soft cap, for instance, where you just pay more tax for being over the cap.) There is one notable example, however: LTIR. Standing for Long-Term Injured Reserve (well, not really, but we all call it that), LTIR allows teams to surpass the salary cap, as long as a player on the team is "bona fide" injured and will be out for more than 24 days and 10 games.
Now here's the complicated thing: cap "accrues" every day that you're under it. (Kind of like it gains interest.) So, as the cap is 83.5m, if your team only makes 82.5m, you have that extra 1m accruing. This is key at the trade deadline where that 1m can end up as over double that to play with in extra wiggle room. (At the trade deadline, you can trade for a 2m player and be at 84.5m, but since you accrued the cap earlier in the season it averages out and is okay.) However, when you have players on LTIR, your cap basically stops accruing. This is why you'll see teams keep season-ending injuries as regular IR and not LTIR if they can - it helps the cap accrue. (Two instances of this right now are Kirby Dach and Dougie Hamilton, both out for the season as far as we're concerned, neither on LTIR.) Notably, in the playoffs, you can activate players off LTIR and go over the cap because of some badly written rules that nobody wants to fix (literally). This is often colloquially termed "pulling a Kucherov" after the Tampa Bay Lightning did this in the 2020-21 season, putting Nikita Kucherov on LTIR for the entire year, using his cap hit to acquire players, then reactivating him game 1 of the playoffs and going wildly over the cap limit. And it's pretty dang successful too - the Vegas Golden Knights emulated that success with Mark Stone last season.
So here's where we take a look at Philly.
Philly has around $3m in deadline cap space. Zegras's contract has a $5.75m cap hit (for this year and two more). Now, he could be traded to Philly at 50% retained salary at the deadline, but this would likely require giving up a lot of extra capital in exchange for Anaheim holding that 50% of cap hit on Zegras for the next three years. (Generally, retaining salary on an expiring deal costs a lot less than on a deal with extra years left, for hopefully obvious reasons.) Philly won't do this. This would be stupid from Briere. If they want Zegras, they have a much better plan in their back pocket: Ryan Ellis.
Ryan Ellis is a defenseman with a $6.25m cap hit for the next four years. His career is most likely over; he has a rare back injury that he's probably not going to recover from in a way that will let him play hockey again. At least in theory, he plays for the Flyers. However, he's been sitting on IR all year. If Philly wants to acquire Zegras, they will (almost certainly) slide Ellis to LTIR and use that $6m in cap space to put Zegras in. The one problem with this is it forces Ellis to LTIR for the rest of his career, most likely, and disadvantages the Flyers in the long run.
Option three is just to make space with bad or nonvaluable contracts. Cal Petersen buries $3.85m in the minors. (Buried contracts are weird; essentially, if you send guys on certain kinds of contract - as in expensive - down to the AHL, you're on the hook for some or most of the salary.) Move that contract anywhere and Philly should have room for Zegras at the deadline. Plus it makes it easier for the team to deal with new contacts. Or you move Cam Atkinson, an aging vet making $5.875m, to a team that's not on his modified no-trade clause and free that space for Zegras. Or you move Rasmus Ristolainen, an underperforming defenseman making $5.1m... See what I mean? Any team you like has options to move around cap to pick up Zegras. Not only the teams like Chicago, Buffalo, and Nashville who have the obvious cap space, but also teams trying to retool into younger cores could be keenly interested. (I could go through all the teams in the NHL as potential suitors, but that might be too much information. Unless you want that. In which case, ask and I'll do it.)
That being said, it sounds like Zegras will be moved during the offseason - and that makes sense, as usually contracts with significant term and roster-forming implications aren't traded at the deadline. At that point, with UFA contracts going off the books, it can quite literally be anyone's game to pick up Zegras. However, it'll probably be costly - a young, talented center who will be in your NHL top six, has serious upside, is on a fairly cost-friendly contract for two more years and then retains RFA status? Those don't grow on trees. Expect him to be moved for either a blue chip prospect or a first-round pick. Maybe both, if Verbeek is smart. Genuinely cannot think of a trade of such a player in recent history. (The closest off the top of my head? The Matthew Tkachuk trade - that was two prime players, a first, and a prospect for him. Granted, his circumstances were much different than Zegras's, and Matthew was undeniably worth a lot more.)
Generally, you're not trading away or giving up young core players. Verbeek doing so with Drysdale opens the floodgates. Whether it's because Verbeek wants to sculpt this team the way he wants (neither Drysdale nor Zegras were drafted by him) or he simply sees no future for Zegras on the Ducks, it's incredibly puzzling, not least of all because Anaheim seems mired in this rebuild, and Verbeek may be adding years to it if he plays his hand wrong.
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SURVIVING ABDUCTION: Lisa McVey
Lisa McVey was a 17 year old girl who was abducted and raped by a serial killer in 1984. This woman is one of the smartest survivors I’ve ever learned about, as she was able to manipulate her captor into setting her free. I strongly recommend watching the movie based on this case, called “Believe Me.”
Who Is Lisa McVey?
Lisa was born in March of 1967, in Tampa, Florida. She had a really hard time growing up, as her mother, who was addicted to drugs and alcohol, forced her to move in with her grandmother and grandmother's boyfriend at 14. Prior to this, she was in and out of foster homes. Her grandmother’s boyfriend would molest her often for three years straight, while holding a gun to her head, and her grandmother never did anything to stop it. It’s because of this abuse that helped aid in her survival when she met serial killer and rapist, Bobby Joe Young. She knew how to handle herself in those situations, and she knew how to keep herself alive. Due to her abuse at home, she had planned to commit suicide after work that very same night she was abducted. Ironically, once she was in that life or death situation, she suddenly had the will to live, and decided it wasn’t time for her to die.
Who Was Bobby Joe Long?
Bobby was born on October 14th, 1953, in Kenova, West Virginia, and moved to Tampa in 1983. He was a serial killer and rapist who targeted women in the Tampa Bay area, and killed at least 10 women. He was born with an extra X chromosome, also known as 47,XXY, a specific variant of Klinefelter syndrome. This condition results in excessive estrogen production, causing some female traits such as breast development. Due to this condition, he was teased as a child for his large breasts and underwent breast reduction surgery when he was a teenager. He had also suffered multiple head injuries as a child resulting from diverse accidents. He married his high school girlfriend in 1974 and had two kids with her before she filed for divorce in 1980. Bobby Joe committed at least 50 rapes in Miami. Whenever he was with a woman alone, he’d go to the bathroom to take out his “rape kit,” come back, and rape and rob the woman. He was convicted of rape in 1981 but requested a new trial and somehow the charges were dropped. After moving to Tampa in 1984, he spent eight months on a murder spree.
Lisa McVey’s Abduction
On November 3rd, 1984, Lisa was riding home from work on her bicycle when she was found and snatched by Bobby Joe. She was thrown into the backseat of his car, held at gunpoint, blindfolded, bound, and raped. She was then brought to his apartment and repeatedly raped and tortured for the next 26 hours. Due to her experience with abuse, Bobby noticed that she wasn’t like the others. She didn’t try to run, she didn’t scream, she didn’t cry, and she obeyed. Later he would say that Lisa was “different.” Lisa relied on her memory and her ability to keep an eye out on specific details. How many turns were made from her abduction point, what she was able to see under her blindfold, the kind of car, the color of the cars interior, how many steps were taken up to his apartment, how his face felt, what his dominant hand was, that he was extremely clean (he made her shower once she was in his apartment), where his boots were placed, etc. Additionally, as part of her manipulation tactic, she tried to sympathize with him by telling him that he wasn’t really such a bad person, that she saw good in him and that he deserved to be loved, and even offered to be his secret girlfriend. Then, she tried to gain sympathy from him by telling him that she really needed to survive, as she is her fathers sole caregiver, and he was very sick and needed her. This was the final straw that persuaded him to let her go. He drove her to a remote location while blindfolded and told her to keep the blindfold on for 5 minutes so he could get away.
When she returned home, she was scolded and beaten by her grandmother's boyfriend, and neither of them initially believed her story. It took them 5 hours before finally calling the police. What makes matters worse, most of the officers didn’t believe her story either for some reason, besides one officer in particular. She told the police all the information she had, and even made sure she left fingerprints in multiple areas of the bathroom to prove that she was really there. Through her description of the man and the details of the route they took, they were able to find Bobby Joe’s apartment, and went to hunt him down. He was found on November 16th, 1984, at a movie theater looking for a sex worker. He killed two more women before he was caught. He said that the police never would’ve found him if he didn’t let her live. On September 23rd, 1985, he pleaded guilty to his kidnapping and assault of Lisa McVey, and to an additional eight counts of first degree murder, eight counts of kidnapping, and seven counts of sexual battery. He received life sentences on every count in Hillsborough County. Additionally, he received two death sentences for the murders of Michelle Denise Simms and Virginia Johnson.
He was executed by lethal injection on May 23rd, 2019, and Lisa and the one other survivor were present at his execution. Lisa later became a sheriff, and also works at a middle school as a resource officer, teaching students how to handle potentially dangerous situations.
THE KNOWN VICTIMS
Artiss "Ann" Wick, 20 – killed on March 27, 1984
Nguyen Thi Long, 19 – killed on May 13, 1984
Michelle Denise Simms, 22 – killed on May 27, 1984
Linda Nuttall, 33 – assaulted in May 1984; survived
Elizabeth Loudenback, 22 – killed on June 8, 1984
Vicky Marie Elliott, 21 – killed on September 7, 1984
Chanel Devoun Williams, 18 – killed on October 7, 1984
Karen Beth Dinsfriend, 28 – killed on October 14, 1984
Kimberly Kyle Hopps, 22 – killed on October 31, 1984
Lisa McVey, 17 – assaulted, raped on November 3, 1984; survived
Virginia Lee Johnson, 18 – killed on November 6, 1984
Kim Marie Swann, 21 – killed on November 11, 1984
#true story#blog#truecrime#true crime#blogger#crime#true crime blog#true crime community#blogging#blogpost#blog post#writing#writers on tumblr#creepy#horrorcommunity#horror blog#horror
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Pamela Colson, 31 (USA 1994)
Pamela Coulson underwent a first-trimester abortion when she was 12 weeks pregnant. The date was June 25, 1994. On that fateful Saturday, William Keene killed Pamela’s unborn baby and inflicted the injuries that would kill Pamela before the end of the month.
She had managed to get her friends to drive her to Pensacola, Florida for the legal abortion. When her friends tried to drive her back home, Pamela was bleeding heavily. According to her friends, Pamela began having trouble breathing when they were about halfway home. Sometime close to 7:30 PM, Pamela was unresponsive. Her friends pulled into the parking lot of a hotel to try to save her. Soon the hotel manager and multiple passers-by were involved. The hotel's manager said that two passers-by did CPR while Pamela's friends called for an ambulance. Somebody else attempted to wave down traffic to seek additional help.
Despite the help of both friends and strangers, Pamela did not have a heartbeat and was not breathing at all when the paramedics got there. They took her to Bay Medical Center where doctors performed an emergency hysterectomy in a vain attempt to save Pamela's life. Despite the best attempts at saving her, Pamela was declared dead just after midnight the next day.
Her autopsy showed bloodstained fluid in her chest and her peritoneal space, and "extensive hematoma formation in the pelvic area with the peritoneum denuded from the left gutter area caudually." Her uterus showed extensive hemorrhage and blood clots. Her uterine artery was also damaged. Several of Pamela's ribs were fractured, apparently during attempts to resuscitate her. (This is common in even properly performed CPR.)
Her cause of death: "irreversible shock from blood loss due to a perforated uterus occurring at the time of an elective abortion."
After the investigation into Pamela's death, William Keene was fired from Sarasota Women's Health Center, the other Florida abortion facility where he worked. The director of Women's Medical Service, where Pamela's fatal abortion was performed, on the other hand, ridiculed the idea of firing Pamela’s killer. "Of course he's allowed to perform abortions. That's a ridiculous question. Complications occur all the time," facility director Sandy Sheldon told the Tuscaloosa News. She also showed disdain for the press for covering Pamela's death, telling the Tampa Bay Times, "Patients die all the time, whether it's a gall bladder operation or a hernia or a tonsillectomy, and nobody cares. It's not front-page news. ..... Why is this different? We did everything we were supposed to do."
The abortion facility did not do everything they were supposed to do. Pamela had an internal organ torn, was not told about the damage and was discharged with lethal internal bleeding. The CDC has stated that there is never any legitimate reason for an abortion patient to bleed to death. ("Fatal hemorrhage from legal abortion in the United States," Surgical Gynecology and Obstetrics, November, 1983): “Deaths from hemorrhage associated with legal induced abortion should not occur. Yet hemorrhage was the third most frequent cause of death from legal abortion in the United States between 1972 and 1979. .... Deaths from hemorrhage can be eliminated by preventing uterine trauma during abortion and by rapidly diagnosing and treating hemorrhage if it occurs.”
Pamela's family didn't find out about her death until the following Tuesday because they were traveling at the time. Pamela's parents sued the facility on behalf of themselves and Pamela's two surviving young children, but the case was dismissed because of the plaintiff attorney's “failure to submit an investigation in a timely manner.”
Pamela’s death at the age of 31 was an injustice. She and her baby would be alive today if it hadn’t been for a legal yet lethal abortion.
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Butchy's Basic Info
Name: Biagio Antonio Bandoni
Now, I must say, it was only hard for me to pick one 60s - Michael Parks 80s - Tom Cruise (Top Gun) 90s - Barry Watson (7th Heaven) now - Cody Christian (All-American)
Nicknames: Butchy, Butch (close friends only), Babs (Lela’s first nickname for him when they were little that sort of stuck through the years), and Forty (his football number in high school that some of the locals call him)
Age: 21
Date of Birth: April 18
Zodiac: Aries
Birthstone: Diamond
Nationality: Italian-American
Sexuality: Straight
Birthplace: Their old family home in Tampa, Florida
Current Residence: Three Palms Point, St. Pete Beach, Florida
Occupation: Mechanic
Talents/Skills: He’s played piano since he was little, he’s great at keeping plants alive (unlike his sister), he can write pretty good poems and short stories if he has the chance to sit and focus, and he can fix almost anything if he puts his mind to it - not just cars and bikes.
Birth order: Oldest of two
Siblings: Lelanna “Lela” Charlotte
Parents: Enzo Ferruccio Bandoni and Stella Valentina Bianchi
Signature:
Height: 6’2”
Race: White
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Dark brown, almost black
Glasses or contact lenses: Just reading glasses and, though he can read without them, if he goes too long without them, he gets migraines.
Distinguishing features: Multiple injuries from a motorcycle accident, most scars remaining in the area around his shoulder, upper back, and ribcage. Also, he has two tattoos - Mick’s initials under his wedding ring to match the one she has of his initials, and a small moth on his ribcage (a representation of transformation, change, hope, and new beginnings).
Mannerisms: Constantly spinning his wedding ring, running his hands through his hair, and humming while he works on things
Health: He’s in pretty good health, but he gets pain in his back and shoulder when it rains, something he says makes him feel a lot older than he is.
Hobbies: Writing, playing football, drag racing on the weekends with friends (much to Mick’s chagrin), making incredible grilled cheese sandwiches, and playing piano on his days off
Greatest flaw (in their opinion): How stuck in his ways he can be. Butchy likes things the way they are. He’s used to doing things a certain way and he doesn’t like when things go off of their typical course. Butchy likes routine and normality - the usual ebb and flow of life - but when something or someone interrupts the flow of his life, he sometimes struggles to find a way to allow them in. You’d see this a lot when new people are introduced to his life who aren’t directly related to the people he cares about. While he was great at accepting Royce and Bentley into his life, allowing Carrie into the picture was a years-long struggle. Sometimes, he has a harder time letting new things happen, but he’s learning how to handle that at his own pace with the help of those around him.
Best quality (in their opinion): Selflessness. As the designated dad friend of the group, he’s forever putting other’s needs before his own - sometimes to his own detriment - but he’s proud of the fact that everyone sort of turns to him when they need something. They know he’s there for them no matter what and he loves it when someone comes to him, looking for help or even just someone to talk to. Regardless of whether or not he had plans already, he would set nearly anything aside for a friend or family member. His friends constantly come to him when they need help and he can’t help but smile and agree as he feels needed for something. When the kids come up asking him for help with friendship issues or drama problems or, heck, even dating issues, he feels like a proud dad/uncle. It makes him feel complete, in a way, that the people he loves would come to him for help.
Biggest fear: Being unable to protect those he cares about. He first realized this when he and Lela were younger and he found out she was being picked on. Being older and stuck in the next school up from her, he was unable to rush to her aid whenever she needed him, and it hurt. By the time Miles came into the picture, he was taller, stronger, and able to help, but he wasn’t there when Miles got jumped - another tally on the list of people he couldn’t protect. When Mick came around, he originally pushed back the idea of being with her to save himself from letting down someone else. However, that didn’t last long and he’s done everything in his power to keep her safe. When he sees the kids running around town on their bikes, causing their typical mayhem, he wants to join them to make sure nothing happens, but forces himself to stand back with the knowledge that he’ll be there when they fall. He hates the thought of being unable to protect the people he cares about, but he’s working on being able to understand that he can’t surround the whole world in bubble wrap just to make sure nobody gets hurt.
Hogwarts House: Gryffindor
Favorite ice cream: Banana cream pie
Favorite color: Blue
Favorite number: 40, for his football number, and 320, for the date he and Mick got married on - March 20th, the first day of spring.
Favorite songs: You Rang My Bell by Jamey Foxton, Somebody To Love by Queen, and I Was Made for Lovin’ You by KISS
A place they want to visit: Monte Carlo, Monaco
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Strength
Bea put her back into another rep on the bench press. She strained her muscles but cleanly lifted the weights. She heard an admiring whistle from one of the men who was watching her whilst another looked in horror. She lowered the weights calmly and did another rep, and another. "Holy shit" she heard one man say. She wanted to do one more and put all her might into doing so before asking Rayshawn to spot her and help put the weights back to their resting position.
"250lbs - right on Bea" he said as he helped her up. They clasped muscular hands, "right on" he said, impressed with her. Bea liked Rayshawn. He was a professional bodybuilder and they only knew one another at the gym but he was a good ally.
"Right on Rayshawn" she said, standing tall. She was slightly taller than him at 6 foot 4 inches but he was thicker. He had been a standout defensive lineman at college but injuries prevented him from being drafted and turning pro. Bea thought it was a shame he had not been able to pursue his dream - he had a great attitude that would have translated well into any profession.
"Fucking freak....weirdo". She heard the mutterings from some of the other men around the gym. She pretended not to notice, contenting herself that if she wanted to, she could crush any man she wanted. They were just pathetic, too scared of their inadequacy to realise her strength and power. Bea was tall and ripped, with not an ounce of fat on her and she knew that it intimidated weaker creatures.
She grabbed her towel and headed to the gym locker room where she had a relaxing shower. It had been a long workout today, but a good one. She was in peak condition. Bea had sometimes wondered about becoming a professional bodybuilder but in the end had decided not to pursue it. For her, a workout and maintaining her strength was about her and only her, not some competition for judges to prod and poke her.
After her shower, she grabbed her bag from the locker and changed in private. It was easier than getting stares from some of the other women, most of whom were petite and tiny and nothing like her own body shape. She still loved her femininity though - it was hers and she could make it work for her. She put on a red bra and matching high leg knickers followed by jeans and a black tanktop. Bea also believed in self-defence and attached her holstered Glock-18 to the belt on her jeans where it could be covered by her tanktop but was easily accessible if needs be.
'I need to go to the range' she reminded herself. It had been over two weeks since her last visit and she wanted to make sure she stayed sharp. Bea had a natural shooting ability. The muscles in her arms could easily control the recoil of any weapon and she was not just skilled with a pistol, she could also handle assault rifles and heavy weapons too.
She stepped out of the gym and into the warm Florida sunshine of Tampa. She had only gone a couple of feet down the sidewalk when she heard a familiar voice with an unmistakable accent behind her. "Hello Beatrice".
Bea turned around and glared at the speaker. "Don't call me that, Sandra," she said firmly. The British woman seemed to have not aged a day since she had last seen one another and was looking very comfortable in a long shirt, leggings and sunglasses. Sandra chuckled and Bea shook her head. "Is this a coincidence that we're meeting?"
"Of course not" Sandra said, "may I buy you a hot beverage?"
"Sure" said Bea. She was intrigued as to what the British woman would be here to talk about and tried to recall when they had last seen one another. It had been two years at least, maybe three but whenever Sandra showed up, she knew things would always be interesting. The older woman was well connected to a range of activities. She tried to remember the last time. She had been asked to help out on some business dealings between two shady gentlemen and a gang of small time crooks.
Sandra took her to a coffee shop close by and they both ordered herbal tea and sat down. "So tell me Bea" Sandra said, "what are you doing these days?"
"Not much" Bea answered honestly, "working security at a couple of clubs in town, staying out of trouble mostly. What about you?"
"Oh you know me, a little bit of this, a little bit of that" Sandra said whimsically, "actually I'm currently spending most of my time in New York".
Bea had read the news and eyed Sandra suspiciously. "You're in the midst of this mob war up there?" she asked. "Which side are you on?"
"Let's just say I'm working for a third party with an interest in the matter" Sandra said, "trying to put a new perspective on the problem, be a disruptor in the space".
Bea snorted. "Sounds like a startup".
"Well in a way it is" Sandra said. She leaned closer. "Are you doing any other work at present?"
Bea understood what she meant. "No" she said, "too many assholes in that game".
"Too many untalented men afraid of change" Sandra added.
"Right," Bea said, nodding. "Why do you ask?"
Sandra sat back. "You know I've always been an admirer of you Bea" she said, and Bea felt touched by the sincere tone in her voice, "you're an incredible woman with some unique talents. I'd like to provide you with some more opportunities to use them".
Bea was intrigued now. "Go on".
"I'm helping to assemble a collective," Sandra explained, "female-led, a place for all the talents, no matter their background or age or size. A place where we can all be free to be who we want to be, where we can be respected and wield the power that we should have". Bea saw the passion in her eyes. "I want you to be a part of that Bea. You're wasted doing security at a club, you should be ripping the world apart and building it fresh. Join us, and you can be free to do so".
Bea couldn't quite believe all that was being said, but knew that Sandra was not one to use her words so lightly about something so serious. The thought was an enticing one. It seemed impossible but yet Sandra made it seem like it was all in the works. She wanted to find out more. "OK" she said, "you've got me interested".
Sandra smiled. "I thought so" she said, "because there's a task we need completing here in Tampa. Have you heard of Carlos Munez?"
Bea thought the question must be rhetorical - everyone with a link to the criminal underworld had heard of Carlos Munez. He ran a group of thieves and robbers, specialising in collecting the lowlifes of society who pushed drugs and assaulted women. He was an evil piece of shit as far as she was concerned. "Yeah" she said, "yeah I know of him".
Sandra showed her a tablet on which there was a map of Tampa. There was a dot on the outskirts of the city. "Good" she said, "because this is the location of him and his base of operations".
"What the fuck?" Bea was stunned, "how do you know that?"
"Because he's also an informant at times to the FBI and we have....certain contacts and abilities within that organisation" Sandra said proudly. Bea looked at her, surprised. Evidently Sandra's startup was more advanced than she could have realised. "He's just come into a decent shipment of weapons that I feel could be advantageous to our cause and I want us to steal it, tonight" Sandra continued. "Are you in?"
Bea smiled. "Oh fuck yeah"
------
It was night time and yet still not chilly for Bea as she crouched looking at an abandoned mechanical factory on the outskirts of the city. She had changed into black figure-hugging leggings and a tight black vest top. In her apartment, she had shown Sandra the weapons she owned and in her waist holster was a suppressed Sig-Sauer P250 pistol and she had a suppressed assault rifle slung over her back.
Sandra was next to her in an all-black bodysuit. She pointed at the large door closest to their position. "The weapons are going to be in there" she said. It looked big enough to easily drive a truck through and there was a man in a jacket outside, smoking.
Bea nodded. She felt alive and ready. It had been a while since she had been in what might be considered a dangerous position but was excited to see what she could do again. She had no issue with killing. She had shot, strangled or knifed almost half a dozen assholes over her life and it had never been a problem for her. If Carlos Munez really owned this place, then every fucker in it could die.
She pulled her rifle off her shoulder and adjusted the scope. It was a large weapon but still felt tiny in her hands. Her strength gave her extra control of weapons like these and she composed her breathing, bringing the man guarding the door's head into the centre of her scope. Pfft. She squeezed the trigger and watched his brains paint the door behind him before he slid down it, dead.
"Perfect" Sandra said, looking impressed. She drew her suppressed Beretta Px4. "Let's go". Bea drew her own pistol and together they both moved towards the door, keeping their weapons low. They reached the door and saw it was padlocked to a chain. Bea smiled - it looked weak compared to her. She holstered her pistol and gripped the chain in both hands and pulled.
The muscles in her arms tensed and she focussed the energy she had on breaking the chain. After a slight strain, it broke apart and she opened the door to the room slightly to slip inside with Sandra, drawing her pistol again. She could hear voices inside the room and ducked behind some boxes. Sandra pointed to a small van in the room - that was evidently how they carried items back and forth. Bea could see several wooden crates in the room with ammunition and guns in them. One even had a military-style M60 machine gun and a long belt of bullets.
She tried to see the source of the noise. A man was talking on the phone as he wandered up and down the room and it seemed other people were elsewhere in the abandoned factory. There was a small room at the bottom that was also padlocked and she wondered what was inside.
Bea set about creeping from box to box, approaching the man on the phone from behind. She moved quickly and quietly and was soon behind him. He was only 5 foot 10 and she towered above him. Her hands moved quickly and she grabbed the man by the throat and mouth, muffling his shocked cries. A quick wrench snapped his neck and she felt him go limp in her hands.
The door at the end of the room opened and a man walked into the room. He looked up in shock as he saw his comrade lying dead beneath Bea but she was too prepared. The moment the door had creaked her hand had gone into her holster and pulled out her Sig-Sauer. Pfft-pfft, pfft. She downed him with her shots and paused, wondering if anyone else would follow him in. They did not.
"Good work" Sandra said. She began looking in some of the crates and going to the van, loading one or two in and directing Bea as to what to load with her but Bea kept being distracted by the small room she saw. Intrigue got the better of her and she left Sandra to go over to it. The padlock was simple and she yanked it off with just one hand before opening the door, gun in hand and ready to fire.
She skipped a breath in horror as she saw three women tied up in the room. They looked young and were all naked, with their hands tied to a pipe and gagged. She could see that one had been badly beaten and had a black eye. 'Motherfuckers' she thought in her head. There were rumours that Munez had some involvement in the trafficking game and this left no doubt.
"Quiet" she whispered to the women, who all looked at her in shock and surprise. "It's OK". She stepped into the room and took a knife from her back pocket to cut their ties. The women looked at her still in fear but she knelt down and spoke to them. "Keep quiet" she said, "we'll get you out of here".
One of the women took off her gag now she had free hands. "Th-th-thank you" the woman said. Bea could see she was young.
"Oh my god" Sandra said as she reached the door. "Bea..." she said, but Bea was not going to listen. She could hear the laughter of Munez and his men in the next room. "Bea, we don't know how many..." Sandra added urgently but Bea did not care. She strode over to the crate where the M60 machine gun was and loaded the long belt of bullets, slinging the belt over her shoulder. Chik-chik. She chambered a round in the gun and picked it up one-handed, holding it against her hip. It was time to make the bastards pay.
She kicked the door off its hinges as she entered the next room and saw three men, all drinking beer, rifles by their side, laughing and joking. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. She opened fire with the M60 without a second's thought, the high-calibre rounds ripping through them in moments.
Two men rushed into the room from a side room on hearing the shots. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. The powerful gun mowed them down. Bea moved through the room towards where they had come from. She could hear shouting. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. She started shooting before she had even turned the corner so as she did, another man was cut down. She saw another man trying to hide behind a crate but BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM, he screamed in pain as the M60 cut through it like a knife through butter.
Bea felt alert and smiled. She just wished that Munez was also in the area but there was nobody else that she could find. 'Another time, asshole' she contented herself with thinking before heading back to Sandra.
The British woman had hotwired the van and hurried Bea to it, where Bea placed the M60 into the back of the van before getting in the front. Sandra stepped on the gas pedal and the van flew out of the open door.
"Sorry if I fucked your plan" Bea said after a few seconds.
"No, no, you did....you did right" Sandra said. "I hope those women will be OK". Bea hoped the same - the shots would surely have brought the police to the area and they would be found and given refuge. "Was Munez still in the building?"
Bea shook her head. "No".
Sandra looked at her sincerely. "His time will come, I'll make you that guarantee". They were heading out towards central Florida and quieter roads.
"Where are we heading?" Bea asked.
"To meet my good friend" Sandra said, "deliver some weapons and then I'll be off to New York with some". She looked earnestly at Bea. "Come with me Bea. There's plenty of evil men in this world, come with me to New York and let's start to right this".
Bea looked at her and considered. It was an intriguing proposition…
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If your tags are about ada accommodations there will be a window at the show who will (most likely) be able to do that for you! I got last minute tickets in Nashville and was in ADA seats with folks who needed them last minute in Tampa and Atlanta from injuries. Plus I know someone who got last minute seats at the last show and got it taken care of too. The lady who helped me in Nash was soooo nice and even gave me an extra ticket so my service dog would have space to sit and wouldn’t have to tuck under me. The security teams are poorly trained on ADA issues, but I cannot speak highly enough of the ADA team at every stadium on tour that I’ve heard about folks going to.
thank u so so much for this!!! i’ve been speaking with someone from the stadium because i need an asl interpreter, and it’s my first time ever requesting this at a concert, but she’s been SO nice. it just makes me so nervous i won’t believe everything works out until it does.
that sucks to hear that security is like that with ADA sometimes :( but i’m so happy to hear that most people have good experiences :’)
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meagan tandy & she and her / cis woman ‷ watch out , jade sullivan has crash-landed into roswell !! they look thirty three years old and celebrate their birthday on august 22. they are from tampa, florida, reside in lunar crescent and are currently working as public relations agent. one thing you should know about them is that she’s the typical bougie hipster vegetarian lesbian with a love for soccer‷ ( ziggles, est, she/her, 33 ) + two ginger cats mango and yam
biography under the cut
car accident and ptsd mentions tw;
“That child is going to be trouble,” they said.
“I will rain so much legal brimstone on this school that it would make God jealous,” she said before taking her daughter out for ice cream. The crime? Punching a fellow student for bullying.
The daughter of two powerhorse lawyers, Jade Sullivan was raised not to tolerate nonsense from anyone. They wanted her to make a mark on the world, telling her to never go quietly. It wasn’t her grades they were impressed by; rather, it was the way she connected with people even from a young age, always fighting the good fight.
It was obvious what captured her attention as a young girl: soccer. Each year, she looked forward to summer simply because she could play every day without school to distract her. She kept telling everyone she’d make it big one day. If Jade Sullivan put her mind to it, she made it happen. Her parents knew she was not one to be underestimated, and put whatever resources they had to ensure her dreams came true.
“She’s too intimidating,” they said.
They always seemed terrified asking her out -- but those brave enough were quickly passed over, her interest in them minimal and fleeting at best. For the longest time, she figured it was due to her ambitious nature. Why date when she could focus entirely on her future? Once everything clicked, everything clicked. Coming out was a mixed bag of reactions in her family, some of them wondering why she insisted on making her life harder by being out and proud.
Popular simply because she looked out for everyone and if you fucked with her people, she fucked with you. She was nice until she wasn’t. Sometimes it meant a good, swift punch and sometimes it meant ruining your life through psychological means -- ruining your reputation, getting you kicked off the team, providing receipts to the parents. Her popularity meant she had eyes and ears everywhere. She was the kind of woman people owed favors to because she used them to help other people. Putting her high school soccer team on the map was merely an added bonus.
An unfortunate injury as a result of a freak car accident derailed her chances of being recruited to a national soccer team. Doctors said years of physical therapy was needed to return to a sense of normalcy. In the midst of it all, she had an unfortunate falling out with her parents due to her refusal to go to therapy for her post-traumatic stress disorder. The accident didn’t just hurt her physically; it took a toll on her mental state.
The woman had too much ambition not to make it big somewhere. With a natural affinity for manipulation and putting a spin on stories, she went to one of the best colleges for public relations. Taking on a full course workload while going through months of intense physical therapy was the Jade Sullivan way. An internship with a major league sports team turned into a full fledged career after graduation. She would soon find out a former classmate, who had found success with the team, insisted on her hiring, having regaled stories from their high school years. It was a frustrating thing to know because of the casual racism put on display -- she had been nearly passed over for a white man with less qualifications.
Her ambitious nature and work ethic had her climbing the ladder over the years. Despite not being at the top, she’d consider herself as the person running things due to her subtle machinations and blackmail material she held over them. She was friendly with those on the ‘lower rung’, so to speak -- they liked to talk. And naturally, she was more than happy to listen.
After seven years of working her life away, she had rendered herself important enough to request working from ‘home’ in Roswell, only coming in for meetings with the upper echelon of the team.
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Ronnie Antonio Paris was born in Tampa, Florida, on the 9th of December, 2001, to Nysheera and Ronnie Paris Sr. Two months after his birth, somebody reported to the state’s abuse hotline that his mother was not seeking medical help for him despite the fact he had been vomiting for more than 24 hours. Ronnie was admitted to hospital, where staff said his vomiting was most likely caused by his mother overfeeding him.
In April 2002, Ronnie was vomiting again and was suffering from dehydration. Caseworkers removed Ronnie from his mother because of her “failure to follow medical advice” which included failing to seek medical help and not giving him a recommended drink called Pedialyte. Ronnie was placed into the care of his grandparents, where his father, Ronnie Sr., was also living.
Just the following month, Ronnie was back in the hospital because he had lost a substantial amount of weight. While in the hospital, doctors discovered that Ronnie had fractures in one arm and one leg that were around three weeks old. Ronnie was removed from his family but the Florida Department of Children and Family Services. As per the police report: “The injuries are clearly nonaccidental.”
Ronnie was sent to live with Faye Bing, his foster mother, and she welcomed him as part of the family. He was just like a brother to her two daughters, and she taught him to walk. She described Ronnie as a playful and happy child who always laughed. Nysheera and Ronnie Sr. were allowed to visit their son at his home; Nysheera reportedly followed him around the house while Ronnie Sr. sat on the couch paying him no attention.
For the next two years, Ronnie remained with Faye, and she had expressed her desire to adopt him. However, on 14 December, Ronnie was returned to his parents after they completed parenting courses. The family lived in an apartment on Humphrey Street, and according to neighbours, they often heard blazing rows. Teia Davenport, who lived in the apartment above them, recalled how she frequently heard shouting, fists banging on doors and objects being thrown against walls.
This was only the beginning of the end for Ronnie...
𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞:
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atlantic division teams as paramore songs
as assigned by me (don’t take this seriously)
if the athletic gets to assign emo songs to nhl teams so can i
boston bruins - pressure
“tell me where our time went / and if it was time well spent”
“i can feel the pressure / it’s getting closer now”
ah yes, one of those teams that won it all before and are now trying desperately to bring that glory back. but with an aging core and uncertain contracts, do they feel the pressure growing?
toronto maple leafs - hate to see your heart break
“there is not a single word / in the whole word / that could describe the hurt / the dullest knife just sawing back and forth”
“for all the air that’s in your lungs / for all the joy that is to come / for all the things that you’re alive to feel / just let the pain remind you hearts can heal”
can i get an F for the leafs. i’m sorry but i couldn’t not use this song. the brutality, the let down, the heart break year after year? and maybe it’s just from my standing as a caps fan and the stunning similarity there but i assure you it’ll come. maybe. possibly. im sorry
buffalo sabres - last hope
“i thought i would be happy by now / the more i try to push it, i realize / gotta let go of control / gotta let it happen”
“it’s not that i don’t feel the pain / it’s just i’m not afraid of hurting anymore”
11 years since the sabres have least seen playoff action, 11 years of rebuilding and subsequently tearing down. Their savior, their golden boy, arriving only to be banished in disgrace to vegas the desert. shouldn’t they have been happy by now? or should they let go of control and pray for the lottery’s favor?
montreal canadiens - brighter
“so this is how it goes / well, i, i would have never known / and if it ends today / well, i’ll still say that you shine brighter than anyone”
“and i’ll wave goodbye watching you shine bright / and i’ll wave goodbye tonight”
oh the injury gods have not been kind to the habs. first their captain (originally i meant weber but now suzuki is also injured) and now with price’s future uncertain this song only felt like the right match. if it ends today, they still shone brighter than anyone.
detroit red wings - careful
“the truth never set me free / so i did it myself”
“when all that is waiting for you / won’t come any closer / you’ve got to reach out a little more”
for a song with such strong vibes of “fuck it, i’ll do it myself” what else could it be other than the wings? a team speed-running it’s dynastic rebuild by patenting it’s very own Yzerman™ technique of trades. when your future is waiting for you, you just have to reach out and grab it.
florida panthers - caught in the middle
“i’m just a little bit caught in the middle / i try to keep going but it’s not that simple / i think i’m a little bit caught in the middle / i gotta keep going or they’ll call me a quitter”
“i don’t need no help / i can sabotage me by myself”
cats i am so sorry, another team eternally damned to suffer in playoff limbo. cannot progress to the finals and no longer has the resources to kick in a partial rebuild. Having heavily mortgaged their future (draft picks) at the last trade deadline they gotta find a way to get out of this rut themselves. gotta keep going or they’ll call em a quitter.
tampa bay lightning - ain’t it fun
“you’re not the big fish in the pond no more / you are what they’re feeding on”
“you see it’s easy to ignore trouble / when you’re living in a bubble”
welcome back to the real world of suffering, tampa! it fucking sucks! no longer the defending champs: a dynasty denied. with rivals building their own respective rosters, you’re not the big fish in the pond no more. guess you’re on your own now in the real world.
ottawa senators - escape route
“paid my dues and i tried to be loyal / but now im done with all that”
“i’m in all the echoes that have faded out / so... im moving on / cause i just want to feel for once that i belong”
oh ottawa, how it does feel like they’ve quietly become someone over the offseason? and maybe im more so focusing on giroux here, but it does have this feeling in the air of “fuck it”, like senior spring. but maybe that’s just how it feels to have brady tkachuk as your captain. they’re not quite there yet, but nobody’s weighing them down with the expectations that they have to be yet. hell, after this offseason, “crossed the state line and called out a warning”, might be more applicable than previously thought.
#i am not tagging all these teams are you kidding me#hockey#nhl#panthers#red wings#like. thats it#all the other divisions have already been done ill post em later#i am not accepting constructive criticism at this time#paramore
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