#KOWALSKI'S FACE KILLS ME EVERY TIME
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Fic: Pepsi Raspberry
Fandom: Triple Frontier
Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader/you
Warnings: There's a fight and Reader's ex left her with some issues, but nothing super traumatic. Frankie is super cute (and a little needy). I just threw this together on a slow day at work, apologies in advance for errors.
Summary: You fight with Frankie. That's it that's the plot.
A/N: This was honestly supposed to be a piece about feminism and female independence in a relationship but I can't be trusted around Frankie, he totally bippity-boppity-booped me into forgivance. Dickhead. Also I struggled for two and a half hours with the title and that's why it's shit. I hate titles.
Words: 2,416
A loud noise wakes you up, your heart missing a beat. For a moment, you're completely still in bed, scared out of your mind. That was definitely the sound of the front door opening and closing, and someone crashing into a chair. You're as stiff as a board, your first thought being that this is it, this is how you'll die, by the hand of a home invader who's probably going to assault you first and then kill you, or maybe kidnap you and do god knows what to you…
You hear cursing and as you recognize the voice you also realize that if someone wanted to break in, they'd probably at least try to be stealthy about it.
"Frankie?" You mean for it to be a call but it's just a breathless whimper. You wet your lips, finding your mouth too dry.
Heavy, staggering footsteps bring the unknown visitor to the bedroom door and you reach out to turn on your bedside lamp. Blinking blearily towards the soft light is indeed Frankie, a sheepish smile on his face.
"The hell are you doing?" Your fright-induced stiffness leaving your body, you sit up in bed and glare at your boyfriend who was supposed to sleep at his own place tonight after his night out with the boys. His eyes are unfocused and his face shiny, and it's clearly been a good night. You glance at the nightstand, where the red light diodes of the clock tell you that the time is barely three am.
“Sorry, baby. Did I wake ya? There was… there was a chair in the entry. Did you move a chair? There never was a chair there before. Stubbed my toe.”
He limps over to the bed, trying to look as sober as possible while unbuttoning his shirt – “trying” being the operative word, as he’s clearly lost control of his fine motoric skills. He ends up pulling the flannel over his head, but it gets stuck, and he topples over his side of the bed. You draw back a little, wrinkling your nose. He smells of stale beer and cigarettes and moreover: he was supposed to go home. You had both agreed that you'd spend Saturday night apart for once, him catching up with his friends, you with yours, and he'd go home where he could spend Sunday nursing his hangover while you got some cleaning done in your apartment.
“What you are doing here?” you demand again, anger replacing fear. “Can I send you to the shower or will you drown?”
“I’m not a good swimmer,” Frankie acknowledges ruefully as he clumsily rolls over in bed and attempts the next step of getting undressed: undoing his fly and getting his tight jeans off. “Here, baby, gimme a hand, you’re so good at this…”
“You deal with it yourself,” you say sternly, in no mood to help. The whole idea of spending one night apart was to get a good night’s sleep – something you rarely get in the same bed as Frankie as both of you are usually too voracious for each other to think about sleep – and for you not to have to worry about a hung-over boyfriend the following morning. On top of that, you’re furious with him for scaring the shit out of you by stumbling in at three in the morning. You almost regret giving him a key but then again: if he didn’t have one it could have been even worse, he could have gone full on Stanley Kowalski outside your window.
“Ah, baby, c’mon… Don’t be like that. Help an old man out.”
Frankie tilts his head up and looks at you with imploring eyes, upside down from you. Half of him is hanging outside the bed and the rest is slipping off, and he looks like he might fall asleep any second. You might as well help him before he goes limp and ends up on the floor.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter and crawl over to his side of the bed before climbing out. As you bend over to pick up his legs and lift them onto the mattress, Frankie manages to slap your ass.
“Baby. Hey, baby. Let’s have sex.”
“Not gonna happen.”
You unzip his jeans and yank them down carelessly, pulling Frankie down the bed in the process.
“Whoa, wild thing,” he murmurs thickly, his eyes falling shut. “Careful of the joystick, you don’ wanna damage that or you won’ be able to fly anymore…”
You don’t bother with an answer, he’s not going to remember it anyway. You help him off with the t-shirt as well and when you’re about to tuck him in, he grabs you by your wrist with a move much quicker than you had thought him capable of in his state. He pulls you down over him, the other hand squeezing your ass.
“Sex,” he mumbles. “Love you, baby, and I wanna be in you fo’eva.”
You try to avoid the smelly, wet kisses that he keeps pressing to your neck and shoulder. While you can appreciate him being horny for you in any situation, you’re still mad about him being here at all.
“You need sleep and I want it,” you tell him as you squirm out of his hold. Returning to your side of bed, you ignore the puppy eyes look he gives you as you turn off the lights.
“Not sleepy,” Frankie protests weakly before he’s out cold. He starts to snore loudly and you sigh in exasperation.
You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.
You barely sleep for the remainder of the night and when you finally give up and get out of bed, you're in a pissy mood. Not even two cups of coffee and the fancy bread rolls you bought at the bakery yesterday to treat yourself this Sunday morning make you feel better. You down a painkiller to combat the beginnings of the headache you feel creeping up on you before starting on your chore list. The clearing of the closets in the hall is the first task and you get to it, trying to find some satisfaction in the fact that you're getting your things in order.
As the hours pass by, you do your best to work around the tasks on your list that would generate noise, such as vacuuming. You may be pissed at Frankie but you're decent enough to let him sleep for a little while longer. However, you finally face the fact that if you're to get everything done in time for you to actually enjoy the rest of your day off and open that novel you've been dying to read, you're going to have to start the vacuum cleaer. If Frankie wanted to sleep until three pm he should have gone home.
When you turn off the vacuum cleaner, you hear Frankie groan in the bedroom.
“Babe?”
You're not really in the mood to talk to him but you go check on him, just in case he needs help to get to the bathroom. Nursing his hangover is the last thing you want to do today but you also don't want to clean up vomit.
He looks like a wreck with his hair standing out in every direction where it's not plastered to his skull, puffy eyes, and pale face.
“Morning.” Your tone is short but he doesn't seem to notice. He grunts and rubs his forehead with one hand, the other reaching out of bed towards you.
“C'mere. I wanna cuddle.”
“You smell,” you shake your head. “Get up already, I want to change the sheets.”
He groans again and retracts his arm, draping it over his forehead.
“One more minute. Or hour. It's so early and my head is killing me.”
“Not my problem, Frankie.”
Frowning, he looks at you, clearly bothered by the sunlight washing the room in light. You don't offer any explanations.
“Is there coffee?” he asks eventually.
“No.”
“Can you make some?”
“Make it yourself.”
He blinks at you, surprised.
“What's wrong, baby?”
You go to the other side of the bed, grab the pillow and start to take off the pillowcase.
“Just get out of bed. I have shit to do.”
Frankie sits up slowly, his head clearly bothering him when he moves from a horizontal recline to a vertical seat. He takes a moment, eyes closed and hand on his bare, soft stomach, before looking up at you.
“What's up with you?”
There's a hint of accusation in his voice and that does it for you. You slam down the pillow onto the bed and cross your arms in front of your chest as you glare at him.
“You scared the shit out of me last night, Frankie! I thought I was being burglared!”
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he mumbles, his apology meaning nothing to you because you can clearly see that he doesn't understand the terror you felt last night.
“We agreed that we'd spend the night apart, what the hell did you come here for and ruin my sleep and my morning?” you demand, raising your voice a little despite yourself. Frankie hates yelling. “Did you think I'd take care of you, tip-toe around you all day, serve you coffee in bed and junk food on the couch while you get to feel sorry for drinking too much?”
“What, no, what are you – “ Frankie seems utterly confused, the state of him most likely partly to blame. “Can you please keep your voice down?”
You pull at the duvet, stuck partly underneath him. “Move.”
“Jesus...” he mutters as he slowly gets out of bed. He stands still for a moment as if to recalibrate as he adjusts his boxers, before sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom. You strip the bed and as soon as Frankie's out of the bathroom and heading into the kitchen, you take the sheets to the washing-machine and start it. And just because you're feeling like a bitch, you throw Frankie's clothes out of the bedroom, letting them land on the floor, before vacuuming.
When you're stowing away the vacuum cleaner into the cleaning closet, Frankie confronts you. He's now dressed but that doesn't help his half-dead appearance.
“Why are you being like this?” He's still struggling to understand you. It's typical Frankie: he always tries to talk about things, bring clarity into every issue.
“Like what? What am I like?"” You're being a brat, you know, but you have no desire to be an adult right now. Frankie really doesn't seem to understand: the frown seems permanently etched into his face and he looks so different from his usual soft, easy-going self.
“Mean. You're being mean!” The last word comes out harshly and you can tell Frankie's losing his customary cool.
“So when I have plans to spend a day apart from you and be my own person, I'm being mean?” you spit. He looks at you like you're suddenly speaking in a foreign language.
“What are you even talking about?” The exasperation is plain to see, and it somehow makes you even angrier.
“This isn't your mama's bed and breakfast that you can just check into whenever you feel like it, Frankie!”
“Fuck,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can't deal with this right now.” He pulls out his phone. “I'm getting an Uber.”
“Good!” you quip. “Fuck off home, like you should've done at three in the fucking morning!”
Without waiting for a reply, you stomp into the bedroom and slam the door. A few seconds later, you hear the front door slam as well.
[+++]
Sorry I showed up unannounced in the middle of the night. I just missed you. Didn’t want to go home and sleep without you. Call me, okay? I Love you.
You stare at the text message and feel bad, no, not bad: really fucking awful. It took you a few hours to calm down; hours that you spent playing angry music while finishing your list of chores. Afterwards, you didn’t feel that satisfying sense of accomplishment you usually experience after a good cleaning. Your head still hurt, so you went to your newly made bed which smelled fresh and nice even with the spread on top. You slept until late afternoon and woke up by the beep signaling the text.
You’re conflicted. The fact that he missed you is so sweet but there’s something about the statement that annoys you. He’s a grown-ass man, for chrissakes, and he should be able to be without his girlfriend for one single fucking night. And then guilting you into calling him with I-love-you’s and his fragile feelings? Fuck that noise.
And still. You know what Frankie’s like: physical, devoted, kind. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever been with. Not like your last boyfriend, who would pull shit like this all the time: show up at your place at all hours of the day (or night) whenever he wanted something from you. Sex. Comfort. Sympathy. Who would text and call you all the time when you were out with friends because he couldn’t find his way to the fridge without your help.
Reluctantly, you hit the speed dial button to Frankie, and he picks up almost immediately, saying your name with barely contained urgency.
“Hi,” you say quietly.
“Hi. You okay?” Such a Frankie thing to do, make sure you’re okay after a fight where, technically, he’s the injured party.
“Not really. You?”
“I’ve had worse.”
“You mean the hangover or this morning?”
You hear the smile in his voice. “Both, but I meant the hangover.”
You exhale in an amused little sniff.
“I’m sorry, Frankie. Do you… wanna come over?”
“I’d love to. Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Neither have I. I’ll pick something up. Burgers from that place you like?”
Your stomach rumbles at the mention of burgers but you’re more concerned with the sudden tears that rise in your eyes. Oh, Frankie.
“That would be great,” you manage, wiping at your eyes. Get a fucking grip!
“Parmesan fries?” he queries, but all he gets from you is a sob. “Baby?”
“I love you,” you sniffle. “You’re the best.”
“Aww, babe. I love you, too.”
You draw a deep breath to calm down, a little embarrassed at your emotional outburst. It’s not like you, but it’s been a weird day.
“You still there?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“Pepsi Raspberry for you?”
You start crying.
#my fic#francisco catfish morales#francisco frankie morales#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader
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the mad hatter — g. w. (chapter 2)
Summary: Chief Detective Y/N Weasley had questioned the bakery owner and earned some very important clues. George, in the meantime, had spent a recorder, talking about how he first met his wife.
Words: 2,770 words
Warnings ⚠ : mentions of food and drinks, mentions of murder, thriller, bickering, husband!george, dad!george, sadistic!george, mentions of masochism, fem!reader, mentions of feelings, angst (in a way)
Disclaimer: had to delay the second chapter for 15 minutes because my Word Document couldn't load on my desktop so I had to write the whole chapter down on my phone :') Anyway, Reblogs and Comments are highly appreciated! Enjoy!
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“Richard Kowalski?” Zabini’s voice caused the plump man to turn around and face them with a tray of freshly baked croissants in his hands. “Yes?” His American accent rung through the nearly empty bakery, it was after lunch hour and a lot of customers had gone back to work. You stepped up, “I’m Chief Detective Y/N Weasley and this is Detective Blaise Zabini, may we ask some questions?”
A few days after George had told you about the bakery, you had quickly informed the team to ask the owner of the bakery some questions. And because it was Zabini’s and Nott’s turns the last time, (and Lav actually coerced talked to Blaise), the tall lean man and you had to be the questioners of the day.
“Am I being arrested?” The question had raised your eyebrow, “Have you done something against the law?” You questioned back, and your suspicions heightened at Mr. Kowalski’s body language; gulping excessively, eyes darting everywhere, licking suddenly dry lips.
“N-No, ma’am.”
“Say, Mr. Kowalski, are you selling these macarons?” Zabini asked as he moved to a basket on the top of the counter. There were neatly placed red velvet macarons; three in one transparent plastic with a dark red ribbon on top. “Oh yes, I do. The customers really loved them, we sold them out every time!” Kowalski happily said, his lips etched a proud smile.
“Then, do you have the records for March 15th? We have the suspicions that a serial killer used your red velvet macarons to poison his victims,” You voiced out after a while being silent, and again, Kowalski paled before you.
“A serial killer? Y-You mean,” he inched closer to you, looking almost scared to actually say the name standing in his mind, “The Mad Hatter?” He whispered in fear.
You furrowed your eyebrows, no one outside of the Homicide department knew of this serial killer’s name yet, so how did he—
As if Kowalski read your thoughts, he froze. He looked around the bakery — empty — and sighed. He nodded to the kitchens, “This way,” he breathed dejectedly. You and Zabini shared a curious glance before following the baker into the kitchens.
After guiding the police officers to the back of his bakery, Kowalski ran his hand through his curly hair, sighing heavily. “What are you hiding, Kowalski?” Zabini asked seriously. Kowalski glanced at the both of you and looked away as if contemplating to tell you the truth. “Mr. Kowalski. If you have any direct contact with The Mad Hatter and you won’t tell us, you’ll be arrested for obstructing justice,” You said sternly.
The man before you genuinely looked conflicted, before he finally sighed harshly. “Fine, there was a guy.”
A clue!
“What guy, Mr. Kowalski?” You asked, encouraging him to go on. “On 15th March, I wasn’t here because I was visiting my gran, Queenie. But 2 months before that, a guy would always come after midnight to this very alley to buy some red velvet macarons,” He bit his lip, closing his eyes in despair. He opened them and turned to the right, an end of an alleyway connecting straight to the streets, noises of engines were faint.
You looked at where he looked, and as if a projector was playing, you could see the mysterious man walking into the alleyway to meet Kowalski.
“He would always buy 3 packets of the macarons. Not more, not less. And he would always give the exact amount of the price and asked for no receipt. After the first murder, Dave Busher,” He looked at you and you nodded in confirmation, while Zabini wrote all the important notes, “I didn’t want to sell him any more macarons at midnight.”
“What happened then?” Zabini asked. Kowalski gulped, “He started to come at daylight. Even without a black hat or a black jacket, I knew it was him. And he knew it too because he smiled every time he looks at me." He shivered at the sudden nerves running down his spine.
“How did you know it’s The Mad Hatter? We never let that name out to the media, Kowalski,” Zabini stated, tilting his head accusingly. You raised a hand to stop him, sometimes Zabini can be too intimidating; brilliant in the interrogation room, but asking around then not so much.
“He told me, that he’s The Mad Hatter.”
You narrowed your eyes, “He told you? When did he tell you?” Kowalski looked down to his feet, trying to remember the exact date. And when he did, he looked up to you, “26th February, that was the last time I saw him and I was so scared to my bones. He told me that he’s The Mad Hatter just like that and I,” a sigh, “I wanted to close the bakery to be safe, but I have kids at home and I’m the breadwinner of the family.”
He turned to you desperately, hands clasping to each other, “Please don’t arrest me! I thought he’s going to kill me if he knew I snitched on him!”
You two were silent. 26th February… it was the day you had received the case, the day of the murder of Spencer Gillard.
After questioning Richard Kowalski (and granted him witness protection), you and Zabini walked back to the car, driving back to the HR.
“Okay wait, how did The Mad Hatter know we call him The Mad Hatter?” Zabini questioned loudly, and you tilted your head in confusion. You were sitting on the passenger’s seat and Zabini was driving. “Is it possible we have The Mad Hatter around us?” You wondered lowly.
Zabini; Blaise glanced at you, “You mean one of us could be The Mad Hatter?” You sighed and closed your eyes tiredly, “Could be. I mean, we only told ourselves about that name and I only told George about it.”
“George? Your husband?” You nodded at his question. “Y/N,” Blaise licked his suddenly dry lips, “Did you ask Kowalski how does The Mad Hatter look like?”
You opened your eyes.
“What are you trying to say, Zabini? That George is The Mad Hatter?” You scoffed, “That’s ridiculous.” Blaise shook his head, “I’m not saying anything, Y/N. But… we all know that Nott doesn’t like telling his cases to people, and Lav and I have no other friends to tell it to. It’s not wrong to be cautious— ”
“This is my husband we’re talking about, Zabini!” You voiced out sternly, glaring at him. “He’s an amazing husband, and a brilliant father to Rafa. He’s the least on the list who could be that sick bastard!” You continued, huffing. “I get it, you and Lavender are dating, but you don’t see me accusing her of a first-degree murder, do you?”
Blaise sighed, used to your short fuse of temper by now, “How did you know about the bakery anyway?” He changed the topic, not wanting to sour your mood even further.
“George told me—” You halted on your words. Huh. George told you. How does he know about the bakery anyway? As far you know, he doesn't really go to this side of town.
And then you remembered Zabini’s first question.
“Did you ask Kowalski how did The Mad Hatter look like?"
Could it be?
“Turn around.” “What?” “I said turn around!”
Click. “Date. March 17th. Subject. None. I want to say something different this time.”
George looked down to his desk, a recorder slowly spinning its inner wheels, prepared to record anything he’ll be saying in the next few minutes. He pursed his lips, purposely pressing hard enough to feel the pain.
Is he a masochist? He’d like to be, in all honesty.
“I wonder what she would say when she found out that I’m The Mad Hatter. That I’m her case,” His lips curled into a growing smile, “That I, am that sick bastard she always talks about at home.”
“I didn’t know it was possible to be jealous of myself, but here we are,” George chuckled. And then he halted, “Jealous? I’m jealous?” He wondered out loud.
He huffed a cynical smile, in disbelief upon his own honest feelings he didn’t know he even has, “So I do have feelings for her after all.”
It was a silent moment of George gathering his thousands of thoughts before his lips moved to conjure a say again.
“I met Y/N about seven years ago, she had just graduated from the police university and I was running the shop with my brother. She came by to look around and I found her interesting when she told me she’s a police officer,” George continued to talk, staring at the window; watching the cars on the streets continuously moving, reminding him that time is indeed walking away tick by tick. He picked up a small metallic ball from his desk, twirling it around his long fingers in an idle manner.
“Y/N is… she’s innocent and naïve, yet still so strong and stern and confident. She’s fair and just and kind, the perfect idea of a noble police officer. The perfect idea of a perfect person,” the corner of his lips tweaked a bit, George didn’t realize he doesn’t see the window anymore, instead, he sees you, “My exact opposite. For I am flawed.”
“I wanted to play with her, probably just a bit before I kill her with my own hands, maybe strangle her or put something in her tea—” He didn’t realize his fingers stopped moving the small sphere around, “But then… I realized she’s more interesting than I thought.”
“The first time she said ‘I love you’ to me, which was 3 months after we met, I had the urge to dunk a pillow onto her face to not hear any more of the confession coming out of her mouth,” He said, and he laughed afterward, “But I didn’t, instead I told her I love her too.”
His laughter died down and his eyebrows furrowed in all seriousness, “Love… What is love?"
"... Everyone has an answer of their own and at the same time, nobody does. It’s so general, it's so vague that love is,” his fingers unconsciously moved to the metallic ring on his finger, twirling it slightly, feeling the surface shuffle against his skin softly, “Love is everything.”
George blinked slowly , “After that, we got married, she wanted children so I gave her what she wanted, and Rafael came by a while later.”
Rafael. Rafael, Rafa, Rafi. Their son. Their child. His child.
George was silent for a while. He’s… he’s clueless on how to put it appropriately and how it wouldn’t sound odd, especially coming from him, a serial killer.
“… I think the first person I have truly loved in my whole life is my son. I didn’t even know how I feel towards my own wife before Rafael comes along. He’s… he’s pure and innocent, just like his mother and he has the biggest heart there is and it’s,” George didn’t realize he was smiling wide talking about his son, and he paused at the realization he had come across, “It’s something that I don’t have.”
“I realized I had become comfortable with my current life, with my wife and my son. I-I needed to change that or else I-I would lose my mind,” George suddenly chuckled maniacally.
“I would lose my mind and I would be alone all over again. I would be alone all over again without my family because— ”
Despite the crazy cackles coming out his mouth, his eyes were watering profusely, wetting his cheeks and he whispered dreamily, “Because I would kill them.”
“He was a tall man, probably in his 30s, ginger, got a long face and a crooked nose. Why?”
The words of Richard Kowalski as soon as you asked him what does The Mad Hatter looked like had you speechless.
No way. No fucking way.
George couldn’t possibly be The Mad Hatter! Godric Gryffindor, that’s bloody ridiculous!
“Not a word to anyone, Zabini,” You voiced out sternly as soon as you got into the car. Blaise was about to open his mouth to protest, but a look from you was all it took for him to close it back dejectedly.
“There’s like a hundred of guys fitting that criteria, Blaise,” You sighed out, massaging your temples at the sudden stress. The lean man sighed, “I’m not saying anything, Y/N.” “Yes, you are,” You glared at him, “But just because my husband fits the same criteria of The Mad Hatter, it does not mean he is The Mad Hatter.”
“How do you even know for sure? Do you even know him?” His rude comeback had you scoffing in offense, “Excuse me? Of course, I know my husband! I married him for almost 10 years!”
“Then what’s his hobby?” “Playing with Rafa.” “What about his favorite meal?” “He likes hot chocolates and my roasted chicken.” “Do you know his family?” “Just Fred— wait,”
You groaned, “Why am I even answering you, you have no right to ask about my personal life, Zabini.” You shook your head in disappointment, looking away to the window, “This conversation is done. We’re not talking about this anymore, do you understand?”
A sigh. “Yes, chief.”
You leaned your head to the window, watching the trees passing by as the car driven by Blaise continued to glide the streets effortlessly. You sighed quietly, obviously upset that a good friend like Blaise would think such a thing about your husband. The father of your child! Unacceptable!
But that stubborn little voice inside of your head kept singing. It kept singing what-ifs. What if Blaise was right? What if George is the Mad Hatter? What if your husband isn’t so innocent after all? What if you don’t even know George Weasley truly?
What if?
That tiny screaming voice seemed to be volumized into the maximum height, because now on the top of your head, was ‘What if everything is true?’
With that one tiny push, Chief Detective Y/N Weasley found herself standing in front of her husband’s office room. The dark greyish door at the end of the hallway had never looked so intimidating.
You had never questioned why George would have it locked at all times, you only thought his office is strictly his own free space, and you wanted to respect that.
Taking a deep breath, you reached for the doorknob. Quietly gulping as you gripped the metallic handle with your palm, pushing it down to open the door and by your luck— or by someone’s plan— the door was unlocked.
But now, all questions ran through your head.
You stepped inside, taking in the unfamiliar space in your house that you had ever seen only once or twice during the 7 years of your marriage. The black walls with white simple baseboards had given the room a minimalistic aura, but considering you are now suspicious of your husband for being a wanted serial killer, you couldn’t help to feel the air in the space eerie and chilly.
You came back home at 3 pm, knowing fully well that your husband and Rafa’s schedule that they were in the park by now, and will be back home no later than 5. It’s a perfect time to snoop around your own house.
A monitor desk was right in front of the door, fully furnished with a computer and all the things needed for a workspace. You walked slowly to the desk, a simple set of metallic drawers had shown themselves to you. There was one particular large drawer, though, that was locked with a little lock.
You wondered, what’s so important in that drawer for George to lock it?
Fortunately, the skill you had picked up from police university had deemed usefully functional. A few friends of yours had taught you how to pick a lock before, and due to legal reasons, they didn’t teach you anything. You quickly retrieved two bobby pins from your dressing room, trying so hard to be quick as you realized the clock was ticking. You started to pick the small lock.
“I believe,” You started talking to yourself, a habit you hadn’t realized, “Johnson had taught me like this,” Turning the bobby pin to the right, “then this,” and to the left, “And then this,” and pushing the upper bobby pin into the lock.
Click!
You huffed in disbelief, an impressed look on your face, “Thank you, Angie,” You spoke to yourself again as you removed the lock quickly and pulled the drawer in your direction to open it.
As it rumbled under your touch, as you felt the weight of the drawer with your arm, as your eyes laid upon the content of the drawer, the only thing you said, and in confusion; may I add, was:
“… Recorders?”
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#george weasley#george-fabian-weasley#harry potter#george weasley x reader#george weasley series#george weasley fan fiction#george weasley imagine
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The New Addition
by: mldrgrl
rating: PG-13
Summary: Hanella welcomes a guest for the weekend
Even more rare than a call from Becca was a FaceTime. Texting was more her style. So, when Hank picked up his phone and saw the incoming video call, he answered immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“That’s how you answer your phone?” Becca said. “Why does something have to be wrong?”
“Many apologies, Daughter, but the infrequency with which you grace us with your face from a remote location are rare as natural breasts on a porn star.”
“Do you think that’s an appropriate thing to say to a daughter, Father?”
“Fuck no, but surprise calls make me nervous. What’s up, Kitten?”
“Don’t ever call me that again. Is Stella there?”
“Yeah, I think she was grading some exams or something, hang on.” Hank turned away from the phone and leaned over the sofa to try to see down the hall to the back room she was using as a study. “Stella! Stelllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
“Oh my god, why are you screaming at her?” Becca said.
“I like to take the opportunity to rehearse my Stanley Kowalski impression when I can. Here she comes.”
Stella came down the hall with her hands on her hips and her brows raised. Hank held his phone up so she could see Becca on the screen and she immediately dropped her hands from her hips and softened her brows, but she quickened her step.
“Becca, darling,” Stella said. “What’s the matter?”
“This is why I only text,” Becca said.
“Well, if you called more, we wouldn’t think shit had hit the fan somewhere.”
Hank opened up his arm as Stella came around to the sofa and sat down. She leaned against him and he adjusted his grip on the phone so they were both in the frame and so that she could also see Becca.
“I have someone I want you to meet,” Becca said.
“How the hell did you meet someone during a pandemic?” Hanks asked. “Oh my god, are you online dating? You know those people usually turn out to be serial killers.”
“Dad!”
“Darling, don’t worry, it’s still statistically a very low probability even if related crimes have been on the rise. Give me his name and social security number and I’ll run a background check.”
“Or her,” Hank interjected. “We’re still holding out hope she’s a lesbian.”
“This is the last time I am ever calling you,” Becca said.
“Does your mother know about this guy?”
“Or girl,” Stella added.
Becca sighed and rolled her eyes. She leaned down and tilted her phone at the same time so the view was of her ceiling and then she came back into frame with a small, brown poodle. “This is Ziggy,” she said. “A friend of a friend of mine was giving away her dog’s puppies and I picked him up this morning.”
“Lovely,” Stella said. “He’s very handsome.”
“I haven’t even met him, but I guarantee this is my favorite guy you’ve ever introduced me to,” Hank added. “Now you’ll be far too busy for online dating.”
“I’m not online dating, but I’m wondering if you can do me a favor?”
“What’s the favor?”
“Next month I have the writer’s retreat scheduled upstate. It’s just for a long weekend, Friday to Monday, can you watch Ziggy for me? He’ll probably be housetrained by then. Maybe. Hopefully.”
“Of course,” Stella answered, as Hank also said “Not a chance.”
Becca grimaced slightly. “It’s just that I’d really rather not have to put him in a kennel. I guess I can call Mom and see if she can pick him up, but it’s so far.”
Stella squeezed Hank’s knee. “You don’t need to call Karen,” she said. “We would love to watch him.”
“Fine,” Hank said.
“Thank you.” Becca smiled and held the dog closer to the phone. “Ziggy says thank you as well.”
Hank ended the call and then turned to look at Stella. She tipped her head back to look at him as well. He tried to scowl and she smiled.
“Why did you say no?” Stella asked.
“Why did you say yes?” he countered.
“I asked you first.”
“I asked you second.”
“Because I don’t see a reason to say no.”
“Because I got her a dog once and where do you think that dog is now?”
“I wouldn’t know, where is it?”
“I have no fucking idea, that’s the point. I went through all the trouble to steal the little fucker from the boyfriend of this woman I was...uh, actually it’s irrelevant how I acquired the dog, let’s just say I got a dog for Becca and fuck if I know what happened to the late, great Cat Stevens.”
“What in the world does Cat Stevens have to do with it?”
“That was the dog.”
Stella patted Hank on the knee and then tried to get up from the couch, but Hank pulled her back down. “I have to grade papers,” she said.
“I just wanted to make sure you knew about the naked shower party I’m having tonight.”
“Wouldn’t any shower party be naked by virtue of being a shower party?”
“That’s a very good point, Sherlock. I’d revise the invitation, but I’d rather just be redundant.”
“Mmhm.” She pushed on his knee and this time he let her up. “Text me the details, I need to get back to grading.”
“What, like a dick pic?” he called after her.
She glanced over her shoulder at him with one eyebrow raised. He waited until she was back in the study to unbutton his jeans.
*****
Becca dropped the dog off on a Friday morning, bright and early. Stella was awake to prepare for one of her classes, but Hank was still asleep. He didn’t hear the drop-off, but when he woke up and wandered into the kitchen to make coffee, he tripped over the dog, stubbed his toe, and shouted a ‘motherfucker’ so loud he was pretty sure he was going to get scolded for it later. The dog ran away.
“Yeah, you better run,” Hank mumbled, limping to the coffeemaker. “Fuck.”
Stella startled him not a minute later when she smacked him on the ass. He jumped and rubbed at his stinging backside, turning to her with a pout. She was holding the dog in her arms and it was whimpering and holding on to her neck with its head turned away from him.
“What was that for?” he grumbled.
“First, for shouting expletives whilst I was on a lecture.”
“I’m sorry, Sherlock, I didn’t mean to. Did they hear me?”
“No, fortunately, I was on mute. There are student presentations today. Which I must return to.”
“The damn dog tripped me and I stubbed my toe. It might be broken.” He leaned against the counter and lifted his foot up to show her his foot. “See.”
Stella reached out and took a light hold on his toe. He made a face at her and she gave it a rough tug to which he yelped and pulled his foot back.
“You’re fine,” she said.
“You’re mean.”
“Please don’t make enemies with Becca’s dog for the weekend.”
“He started it.”
Stella handed the dog over to Hank and gave it a scratch on the head before she walked away. “I put the instructions on the refrigerator,” she said. “Give them a read and then make yourself useful and take him for a walk.”
Hank pulled a sheet of instructions out from the magnet on the refrigerator and read through them. They were very detailed. Too detailed. He wanted to crumble them up into a little ball and burn them.
“Ridiculous,” he said to the dog. “When we left Becca with the babysitter the only unwritten rule was just not to kill her. You’re a dog, you should be pretty self-sufficient. Just don’t piss on the rug and don’t shit in any of my shoes and we’ll get along fine. Deal?”
The dog twisted and wriggled in Hank’s arms to be put down and so Hank put him on the floor. The dog sat down and then lifted a paw to scratch at Hank’s knee.
“Make up your mind, Zig. Up or down, what do you want?”
The dog barked once and then sneezed.
“I don’t speak canine.”
Ziggy whined softly and pawed at Hank’s knee again. The coffeemaker beeped behind Hank and he turned around to shut it off. He poured the coffee into a travel mug and left the cap off so it could cool a bit.
“Okay, Stella says you need a walk,” he said. “I need to put some pants on. Don’t lay anywhere where you blend into the floor. I need my toes.”
The dog followed Hank into the bedroom and immediately jumped on the bed. Hank shooed him off and undaunted, he explored from corner to corner, sniffing the walls and the furniture and the clothes on the floor. Hank snatched up the jeans Ziggy was nosing and put them on. He grabbed a fresh t-shirt from the closet and then went to dig through a duffel bag that Becca left for the dog’s leash.
It took Hank several attempts at getting the harness onto the dog. Number one, because he kept stepping out of it as soon as Hank got it on one foot. Number two, because he initially put it on backwards and didn’t know how the clip could possibly work when it was under the dog’s chest. He finally figured it out though and it seemed secure. He grabbed his keys, his wallet, a mask, and the coffee and headed to the elevator.
The half an hour walk with Ziggy made Hank understand the meaning of the term ‘boundless energy.’ If it wasn’t for the coffee, he couldn’t be sure he’d have made it. When they got back, he unclipped the dog from his harness and even though it felt like they’d just run a marathon, Ziggy dashed across the room and hurdled himself onto the sofa where Stella was now sitting. To Hank’s surprise, Stella laughed as she dodged excited kisses from the dog and didn’t scold him at all or tell him to get down.
“I am exhausted,” Hank said, collapsing onto the sofa beside Stella. He grimaced and let out a pained ‘oof’ as the dog stepped on his crotch and up onto his chest. “Fuck me, this dog is trying to kill me.”
“Have a nice walk?” Stella asked.
“That thing had to piss every five feet and terrorize all the squirrels and pigeons in the neighborhood.” Hank pushed Ziggy away when he tried to lick his chin and the dog laid down on his chest, panting hot and heavy in his face.
“How’s your toe?”
“What toe? Oh. Not broken, I guess.”
“Lovely.”
“He is a total chick magnet though,” Hank said, waggling his eyebrows at Stella. “Ladies were flocking to me like flies to honey. Almost got a few numbers.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t worry I told them my wife would kick my ass before she let me take a hot girl’s phone number.”
“I think I might join you for this afternoon’s walk.”
Hank chuckled and nudged Stella’s leg with his knee. “Kidding, Sherlock. Some kid did ask me if Ziggy had an Insta and then had to explain to me that any dog who’s anydog has an Instagram account and we should get on it the sooner the better if we want him to be a doggie influencer.”
“A what?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Looks like you have a new nap partner.” Stella inclined her chin towards the dog, who had dropped his head down to Hank’s shoulder and let out a deep sigh as his eyes closed. She smiled a little and stroked the dog’s back a few times.
“I didn’t know you liked dogs so much,” Hank said.
“More of a cat person, really. I don’t mind them though.”
“Did you read that list Becca left? It’s more complicated than the Treaty of Versailles.”
Stella chuckled. “It is a rather overly complicated schedule. For a dog.”
“I say fuck the list. I kept her ass alive for the requisite 18 years without a list, I can probably handle a dog for a weekend.”
“Tell that to Cat Stevens.”
“Oh yeah. Wherever the fuck he is. Okay, maybe we better stick to the list. Though I would like to point out, Cat was Becca’s dog.”
“Maybe that’s why she made a list this time.”
*****
Ziggy was sound asleep when Hank turned off the lights in the main room. The dog was passed out on his back, in his bed beside the couch, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Hank tiptoed past him into the bedroom and quietly shut the door. Stella was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. He came up behind her and pressed her into the counter with his hips, sneaking his hands up her shirt to massage her breasts.
Stella grunted slightly through her nose and pushed her hips back into Hank’s. She put her hand up to hold her hair back and Hank pulled his hands out from her shirt to do it for her. She leaned over to spit into the sink and he held her hair with one hand and stroked her neck with the other.
“Thank you,” she said.
Hank finger-combed Stella’s hair up into his fist at the top of her head while she wiped her mouth and then he let it go and rubbed her shoulders. She turned around and he held her by the hips.
“Where’s the dog?” she asked.
“Outside smoking a cigarette.”
“Do you think he should go outside once more?”
“He’s dead asleep. He was like…” Hank imitated the dog, rolling his eyes back and sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth.
“You’re the one that was worried about him urinating on the rug.”
Hank pouted his lips and then nodded. “Fine, I’ll take him upstairs. But, you better be naked when I come back, or else I’m sleeping on the couch with the dog.”
“I don’t think that’s the threat you believe it to be.”
Hank narrowed his eyes and pinched Stella’s hip before putting his mouth to her neck and nipping lightly at the back of her jaw. She laughed and pushed at his chest until he let her go. He playfully slapped at her backside on the way out of the bathroom and she swatted his hands away.
The dog was still sleeping when he opened the door, but he whistled softly and Ziggy startled to his feet and then shook himself. “Come on, hairball, we’re going outside.” He snapped his fingers a few times and the dog followed him to the door to the roof.
Ziggy was hesitant on the stairs, taking them slowly and pausing every few steps to get his footing as he hopped up. He ran around the newly landscaped deck, sniffing just about every nook and cranny and lifting his leg on half of them. It had gotten chilly since the sun went down and Hank, in bare feet and a t-shirt, hopped up and down a few times and rubbed his arms as he called the dog back.
Hank was forced to carry the dog down the stairs when he wouldn’t budge from the top. He made a few false starts, but ultimately sat down and wouldn’t move. When he put him down, Ziggy stared up at him and then stayed closed to his legs as he went back to the bedroom.
“You, stay,” Hank said, pointing to the dog bed.
Ziggy sat down next to the bed. Hank closed the door. Stella was sitting up in bed, reading a magazine or journal, which she set down on her lap and took her reading glasses off.
“Did you really think that’s going to work?” she asked.
“He’s fine.”
Before Hank even finished, Ziggy was yelping and scratching at the door. Stella raised her brows and Hank sighed. He opened the door and the dog came flying through, jumped on the bed and leapt onto Stella with his paws on her chest, wagging his tail and kissing her cheek and chin.
“Settle, darling,” Stella said, turning her face away and pushing the dog back. He gave a whining bark as he dropped down.
“Do they make ritalin for dogs?”
“He’s just a baby.”
Hank kicked the dog bed into the bedroom and then pushed it against the wall with his foot. “Go get in your bed,” he said.
Ziggy laid down where he was, next to Stella. He put his head on his paws and lifted his eyes up at Hank.
“Now he’s giving me puppy dog eyes,” Hank said.
“Shockingly, I believe that’s where that term came from.”
“Well, I don’t like it. It’s too effective.”
“Resign yourself to the fact that we have a little guest for the weekend.”
Hank grumbled under his breath as he went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He stripped to his jockey shorts and snapped off the overhead lights on his way back. Ziggy looked up from beside Stella like Hank was the intruder. He even had the audacity to give a little growl when Hank leaned over to give his wife a kiss. Annoyed, Hank flopped onto his back and the dog scooted closer and rested his head on his arm.
“Oh, now you want to be nice,” Hank said, reaching over to scratch the dog on the head. “I’m surprised Becca hasn’t called.”
“What do you mean?”
“To check up on the dog or let us know she made it to the retreat.”
“She’s been texting me all day.”
“What? What did she want?”
“Checking up on the dog.”
“She doesn’t trust us?”
“You didn’t question her motivations five seconds ago when you were surprised she hadn’t called.”
“I like to be fickle to keep you on your toes.”
Ziggy sighed and squirmed until he was on his back, all four paws limp in the air. Stella chuckled and rubbed his chest before she closed her magazine and tossed it onto the nightstand.
“We’re letting this thing stay up here, then?” Hank asked.
“Yes.”
“I think I’m more of a cat person too.”
*****
Hank was surprised that the dog was no trouble during the night. He woke briefly when Stella, always an early riser, got up and said she was going to take Ziggy for his morning walk and when she got back, would be entering in project results into her electronic gradebook for a bit. He grunted in response and mumbled a reminder to leave him some coffee.
When he finally woke fully, left the bedroom far more cautiously than he had the previous morning. Ziggy was nowhere to be found, but as soon as he started puttering in the kitchen, the dog appeared. Hank crouched down and gave him a few scratches.
“What were you up to, hm?” he asked. “Getting into trouble?”
Ziggy followed Hank as he went to the bedroom, most likely interested in the piece of toast in his hand. Hank held the toast between his teeth, wiped his hands on his jeans, and picked up his phone from the nightstand to text Becca.
Morning sweetheart. The furball is good. Not to worry. Haven’t shipped him off to a kennel yet and probably won’t. Have a good time at the retreat.
Hank took a bite of his toast and then tore a piece off and tossed it to the dog. Ziggy caught it mid-air. About thirty seconds later, he heard Stella calling his name and he snapped his fingers at the dog to get him to follow him out of the bedroom.
“What’s up?” Hank asked, and shoved the rest of the toast into his mouth.
“What did you say to Becca?”
“Hm?” he mumbled, mouth full.
“She just texted me and said you’ve implied the dog has been sent to a kennel and wants proof of life.”
“No I didn’t,” he said. “I said I haven’t sent the dog to a kennel so she doesn’t need to worry.”
“Why would you say that to her?”
“So she wouldn’t worry.”
“Well, she’s worried.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“I’ll send her a photo. Ziggy, come here, darling.”
Stella kissed the air a few times, but Ziggy thought trying to be caught was a game. He bounded away from Stella and then stopped and bowed down, his hind end in the air and tail wagging. She patted her knee for him to come, but he just jumped a few feet to the left and went back into the same pose.
“I’ll get him.” Hank started towards the dog and Ziggy barked and then ran to the kitchen. Hank ended up chasing him around the butcher’s block several times before he was able to catch him, but keeping hold of him was difficult. “Stay still, Zig.”
Stella knelt down and quickly opened the camera on her phone.
“What’re you doing?” Hank asked.
“Taking a photo.”
“A selfie?”
“Do you have another suggestion?”
“I don’t know, I don’t do selfies. Unless they’re dick pics.”
“Yes, I am aware, but we won’t be sending your daughter a photo of your penis.”
“Well hurry up, this guy is a bitch to hold onto.”
“Smile, darling.” Both Stella and Hank smiled as she held down the photo button, but Ziggy wriggled and squirmed.
“Anything usable?” Hank asked, setting the dog free.
“A little blurry, but they should suffice.” Stella got up and texted the photos to Becca. “She says thank you, and for you to never fucking text her again.”
“Brat.”
“You started it.”
*****
The day passed. They took the dog to the park. He napped when they got back. Hank worked on his book. Stella worked on a report for her class. In the evening, they lit a fire in the new firepit on the roof and cuddled up on the daybed with the dog between them.
“Should we get a cat?” Hank asked.
“Do you want a cat?” Stella countered.
“Not really.”
“Me neither.”
“It is kind of nice having this little hairball around though. Not that I want him to stay. He’s also annoying as fuck. But, nice to have around. For an hour or two. When he’s asleep.”
“Kind of like you.”
“Hey!”
Stella laughed and Hank pushed her down onto the bed, rising to his knees to lean over and nuzzle her neck. It was a ticklish spot for her, especially when caressed lightly, and it made her laugh harder. Ziggy barked from where he was wedged beside Stella and under Hank. He wiggled out from under them and then jumped on Hank’s back with his front paws, barking and growling.
“Relax, man,” Hank said, rolling to one hip off of Stella.
“He’s being a good protector,” Stella said, laughing when Ziggy nipped at the blanket over their legs and tried to pull it away.
“He’s being a cockblocker.” Hank wrestled the blanket back from the dog and then grabbed him under the chin, giving him a few firm scratches. “You know what, Zig? You be a cockblocker. You be the best cockblocker you can be, at Becca’s place. Cockblock the shit out of Becca, okay?”
Ziggy barked and wagged his tail.
“Good boy,” Hank said. “Good little cockblocker.”
“Don’t say that to him,” Stella said.
“Why not?”
“One day you will need to face the fact that your daughter is a grown woman who deserves a healthy sex life.”
“Oh my god, I’m going to throw up.” Hank groaned and flopped down onto the bed with his arm over his eyes. “Consider me officially cockblocked.”
Stella moved up onto her hip this time and put her arm over Hank’s chest. She kissed his chin and then pulled his bottom lip between her teeth. He grabbed her around the waist and grunted softly into her mouth. Ziggy trampled the both of them and stuck his cold nose into Hank’s cheek.
“Gah!” Hank groaned.
The licked furiously at the both of them and Stella released Hank’s lip with a laugh and a scrunched face. She buried her head down into Hank’s neck while curling into his side and Ziggy tried to wedge his snout down to keep licking her face.
“We are officially never, ever, ever, ever getting a dog,” Hank said.
“No argument from me,” Stella answered, sliding away from the dog and Hank and stepping off the bed. “Meet me downstairs and I guarantee you won’t be cockblocked.”
“Oh?”
“Naked shower party for two in ten minutes.”
“The naked is redundant!” he called after her as she walked away. He waited until she had started down the stairs to take Ziggy’s face in his hands. “Listen. This is a cockblock free zone, you got that? Keep it up and you just may end up like Cat Stevens. We good?”
Ziggy gave a short, gruff bark and then lifted his paw. Hank nodded and they shook on it. He got up and let Ziggy explore the roof for a few minutes while he folded the blanket up and put out the fire. Not for long though. He had a naked party to get to and he didn’t want to be late.
The End
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💘 Kowalski + Francis!!
Thank you for the ask! Full answer is below the cut because this is long ^^ A lot of these answers I am basing off of my A Scientific Match fanfic.
where they first met and how
They met the first time the penguins went to stop Dr. Blowhole’s plans. Kowalski spent much of the time fanboying over Blowhole’s inventions and lasers.
how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved
They have long flirt-bantered with each other for many years as they have been enemies, but in the world of my fanfic, they were flirting about a month or two seriously before anyone really started falling hard for anyone else.
who fell for who first ( if applicable )
Kowalski fell for Francis first.
where their first date was and what it was like
In my fanfics, their first date was to a karaoke bar. They drank, they sang, Kowalski was awkward, it didn’t go terribly.
who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )
I suppose in the fanfic Blowhole technically asked Kowalski out first, however Kowalski did sort of appear at his lair with an invention claiming they were each other’s “perfect match”....So I guess actually the invention asked them to go out together.
who proposes first
Kowalski would make elaborate plans first, but before he could actually carry them out, Francis would propose in a more classic manner.
if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away
Kowalski tried to keep it largely a secret, however he did tell a couple close friends right away because he needed pre-date anxiety help.
where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )
A nice dinner, maybe either beach side or in Francis’s submarine
if they adopt any pets together
Nah...unless Chrome Claw counts as a pet.
who’s more dominant
Francis.
where their first kiss was and what it was like
Technically in the fanfic, it happens right outside the zoo after the first date but it was very quick...So I think they actually count the kiss that occurred Halloween night while they were watching a movie.
if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )
They’d totally do thematically matching costumes for future holidays together.
how into pda they are
Eh, not very. They wouldn’t necessary care if anyone else is around if they were exchanging affection, but they typically keep that more private.
who holds the umbrella when it rains
Francis, mainly due to the height difference.
where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )
A karaoke bar.
who’s more protective
Depends, they are both pretty protective though at different moments. Kowalski is a little more violently protective.
how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )
They’d nap together looooooong before trying anything mating (mostly due to Kowalski’s wanting to be 100% sure Francis wasn’t going to just leave him). As for napping, not very far into the relationship, just a few months.
if they argue about anything
Yeah, they argue...sometimes about really stupid stuff...like toast.
who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )
Probably Francis, he has a biting tendency when he’s tired and grumpy. Though I’m sure they both get plenty of bruises from when Kowalski’s inventions go wrong.
who steals whose clothes and how often
Francis is lucky Kowalski is much to small to fit in his clothing, or Kowalski would. But I assume at least once Kowalski has tried to try on one of his suits and looked more likely a toddler playing dress up than anything else.
how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )
Spooning, Kowalski laying on Francis’s back, Kowalski sitting up against him, etc
what their favourite nonsexual activity is
Inventing and singing.
how long they stay mad at each other
Depends on why they’re mad, the reason will determine how long either will hold a grudge....as both can seriously hold a grudge.
what their usual coffee / tea orders are
Kowalski likes hot teas and only rarely touches coffee, Blowhole will drink either but drinks more coffee than teas.
if they ever have any children together
I have designed a fanchild for them. First, they test the parenting waters with building a robot together. Then Edmond was created via genetic engineering in the lab using both of their DNA.
if they have any special pet names for each other
Blowhole has nicknamed Kowalski Mittens or Kitten...because Kowalski purrs and kind of acts a bit like a cat.
if they ever split up and / or get back together
If they broke up, I’m not sure they’d get back together...Francis isn’t the most forgiving fella.
what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )
Pretty clean and organized. Kowalski is fairly disorganized though so Francis often has to get after him about cleaning up after himself, especially in the lab. The decor is very classy and nice because Francis has very good taste.
what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like
Chaotic. I doubt it went very well if they shared it with Kowalski’s team.
what their names are in each other’s phones
Kowalski for Francis: Francis ♥️
Francis for Kowalski: Mittens
if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )
So far it seems playing video games together for Valentines day.
who falls asleep first and who wakes up first
Francis sleeps first and Kowalski is up first.
who’s the big spoon / little spoon
Francis is big spoon, Kowalski is little spoon.
who hogs the bathroom
Well...Francis doesn’t really need one since he is a sea creature which uses the ocean, so I guess technically Kowalski though it’s not really hogged.
who kills the spiders / takes them outside
Neither...Though there might be interrogations to the spider for why it was entering the lair/HQ without permission.
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SG1
Season 3 episode 6
"POINT OF VIEW"
Notes by me
- area 51 here we gooo wheres the ark of the covenant
- oh god not the reality mirror
- Sam with a wig (bass boosted)
- omg Kowalski
- what does sga stand for. StarGate Ass
- in her reality her and Jack were together and he died :( and she has to look at our Jack and be sad :((((
- "is he talking about that alternate reality thing that Daniel futsed with" ahdhsaksh
- Sam watching herself on the tv
- haha whenever Daniel talks "and WHO are YOU"
-
- "nice hair" youre the one wearing a bad wig sis
- *gasp* is this a "in every reality Jack and Sam are endgame" situation bc hrng
- two sams in the same reality wow my thoughts are so dirty rightt now
- since they are staying what are they gonna do? Are they just gonna go live normal lives or stay at the base or what
- alternate!sam: I loved my Jack and he was perfect and I had to watch him die before my very eyes
Jack: I dont know how to respond to that
- "you dont even see her that way do you?"
*awkward silence*
- is Jack gonna fully realise his feelings for Sam after this . am I at least getting that in this episode pls ive been good
- Jack was about to say how he cant imagine how shes feelings but he stopped bc he CAN imagine. He once saw a different version of charlie and had to let go of him so he totally gets it
- time to brush my wig. Gotta keep up that hygiene
- Sam holding sams hand 💞
- when in doubt call the asgard 👽
- #twinning
- love Daniel learning about the mirror that almost killed him lol
- Jack when sams say stuff in sync:
- "I am not fond of wearing this uniform again" :( my poor tealc reliving nightmares
- Sam x Sam bonding
- jack: *hand motions*
Daniel: *hesitates*
Jack: *angry hand motions*
- evil!tealc is great but I wish he came with a razor bc oof that goatee
- tealc and apophis are besties with matching ugly goatees ✨
- um?? When tealc kills himself and Jack and Daniel are just. Shook. Like how do I react to this. Tealc seems like hes fine. I'm so confused and shocked what do I do
- kree means yoohoo
- alternate!hammond torture scene :(
- "you and Sam never had a thing your world?" Akdndowndbdsjdbd not YET
- how he caught the fact that mirror Sam was a captain so quick I'll never know
- I could never im blind and hes the one with glasses
- alternate!Sam give tealc big cheek smooch❤
- FACE!! FACE CHEEK SMOOCH
- HAHA im sorry. When they open the door and theres a SPOTLIGHT on Daniel kneeling in the middle of like 20 jaffa. Buddy how do you get yourself in these situations
- when Daniel gets stunned and both Jack and kowalski grab him to steady him. Its about the Hands
- HERE COME MY LITTLE GREY BESTIES 👽
- and they all run like cockroaches when the light hits them
- "you gotta love those guys!"
- daniels eyes are piercing blue in this shot for my viewing pleasure only
- hammonds not dead!!! Now they can restart the whole StarGate Ass
- "how could you marry such a loser?"
- 🚨SAM AND JACK KISS 🚨 I know its not really Sam but the way Jack just goes with it is Very telling
- Sam watching them suck face like?? Am I jealous ??? Or does this mean Jack actually likes me??? Am I turned on?? What is happening????????
~
Whump under the cut
Sam carter whump: alternate!Sam whump- pained face,frigidness, emotional, crying, noises, convulsions?
Daniel jackson whump: captured, gunpoint, bloody cut on face,forced kneeling, stunned, Jack and Kowalski caretakers for a few seconds
Jack Oniell whump: forced kneeling, gunpoint
(Kowalski was manhandled as well)
Tealc whump: kills alternate version of himself, forced kneeling, gunpoint, seems to have some blood or dirt on his face
Lots of Sam and Jack subtext for this episode 👀👀
#stargate season 3#whump#jack x sam#jack whump season 3#tealc whump season 3#sam whump season 3#daniel whump season 3
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title: cigars and constellations
warnings: implied child abuse / family issues, implied rape / sexual assault, mental illness, intrusive thoughts, toxic asylums and therapists
description: Gary remembered his first taste of cigar. He remembered sitting by his window on the second floor, his legs dangling.
His father's office was always filled with dust.
Gary wasn't sure why, as the rest of the house was always meticulously cleansed as if his father would drop over dead if it weren't. To Gary, it was almost fascinating, how the sunlight streaming through the window would catch on the individual particles of dirt and absolutely shine. Gary's attention would get drawn to this without fail, every time he would sneak in to steal one of his father's cigars.
Smith Sr. kept them in a wooden box. It was the only thing in the room that Gary particularly cared for, as it had a small dragon carved into the side, etched by skilled hands long ago. As his fingers drew over the carvings, he knew they were old, and it was only further proven by the creak of the box anytime he lifted it up to grab the bitter-smelling cigars from within. They smelled like wood chips.
Gary remembered his first taste of cigar. He remembered sitting by his window on the second floor, his legs dangling. He could hear his mother's scream from the other room, viciously torn from her, glass breaking as Smith Sr. demanded to know who the fuck was inside his office, and who the fuck took his lighter. He remembered putting it to his mouth, the smokey tasting flavor singeing his tongue as he lit it up with the bright red lighter.
The first inhale of smoke choked him, but it felt good, so he did it again. He could remember leaning further out the window as sobs filled the house behind him and thinking, if only I could jump, right now, then I could meet God.
The same thought followed him throughout his life until he was utterly obsessed with high places. He would climb out the attic window onto the roof at night and watch the stars, memorizing the constellations. He knew all of them. There was Auriga, and Delphinus, and Draco. He counted all of the consellations night after night until he could tell you a map of the entire sky. He'd think how nice it must be to fly.
Other times Gary would climb a tree with Petey, or with Mandy and Zoe before they abandoned him, and would urge them up with a soft c'mon, c'mon, please guys, we have to get to the top. It's going to be so beautiful. And Pete's eyes would shine or Mandy would giggle and follow him up or Zoe would laugh, loud and long, and tell him slow down psycho-boy, I'm coming if you'll give me a second.
Everything hurt when they left, dropping out of his life like flies and suddenly he only saw Zoe out at clubs with older guys where she refused to acknowledge he existed and Mandy would scoff at him everytime he passed her in the hallway. But he always had his constellations and his cigars, and the screaming that accompanied him everytime he returned home.
He nearly killed a kid in seventh grade one time, during a boxing match. It wasn't my fault, Gary pleaded with his mother and his therapist and his coach, trying, desperately trying, to get them to see. He had only hit a little too hard, had only been a little too much, just as he always had been. But the kid was still laying there with blood pouring from his eyes and when Gary got back to school the next week he heard the news with a sickening jolt that he'd be transferring.
Gary wasn't right in the head, and he knew it. He could feel it under his skin time and time again every time he picked up his father's rifle to shoot at the neighbourhood mailbox, or when he accidentely bashed Chad's dog's head in (I didn't mean to! he screamed, the dog was trying to hurt me! it was a mistake!) He desperately pleaded for someone to give him some sembelance of a chance but once the system gave up on him it wasn't long before Gary gave up on the system. Why bother pleading with something who will think you're wrong, no matter what you do?
Jimmy barging into his life was like the first puff of that cigar against his lips and while his chest hurt and it was hard to breathe, he liked it so much that he could only toss back his head and laugh. Jimmy was suddenly a promise, something sacred that Gary could latch on to. Jimmy listened to his plans with more enthusiam than Pete had given him for months, and Jimmy didn't seem to care when Gary got to be too much.
It wasn't until the thoughts came back that it all fell apart and he was heaving dry sobs in his bedroom as he pressed himself fearfully against a corner, anger and panic making his fists shake. They were hanging out together, Pete had let Jimmy wrap his arm around him and they didn't seem to care he wasn't there and he was useless and they didn't love him and he was going to be abandoned again and again and again and there was nothing he could do to fix it.
Solution? Cut them out. It was easy (no it wasn't), it didn't bother him (yes it did). He didn't really need Pete anyway, didn't need Jimmy either, only needed himself. If anything he had taught himself through packs of cigars that whenever you were alone you were truely safe, safe from anything that could ever touch you.
If this was safety, then why did it feel so awful?
He thought about God as he stood on the top of the roof, shrieking pain at Jimmy like a maniac. And he knew he looked stupid and he knew he sounded crazy but he had to let go of this bullshit and suddenly he was spouting if I hadn't of done this, you'd do it to me first and everything was out there except Jimmy didn't give a fuck because he was Jimmy and he just wanted Gary to stop but Gary was an explosion and he hadn't had his medicine in weeks and when he spouted out the insult he knew he had went too far as Jimmy's fist collided with his mouth and suddenly all he knew was pain.
If demons were actually angels then Gary wondered what he was as he plummetted into Crabblesnitch's office. He fluttered open his eyes, his breathing raspy and saw dust particles floating around Jimmy's face. He had fucked up but at least the particles still looked pretty around him, just like they had been in his father's office all those years ago.
He got locked up after that because of course he would, it was only logical. Visitation came and went without anyone showing up and Gary could feel himself aching as he realized he had successfully chased away anyone who had ever wanted him, who had ever cared about him. He broke one night in his cell and curled into his bed, silently crying, pain blooming in his chest as he realized he was only a little boy pretending to be a man, not knowing what the word even meant yet.
Therapy was rough when you were known as the boy who nearly killed a person. He could feel all his therapists judging him before he walked into a room and it felt so awful and intrusive and before he knew it he'd snap at them (leave me the fuck alone, you don't fucking care, do you think my father wants to waste money on your pathetic shit? You can't even do your fucking job right). He made three therapists quit by sheer violence and screaming. Every time he did so orderlies would storm his room and slam him down to the ground and he'd fight and fight but then the needle would be at his neck and they'd strap him down to the table and suddenly pain would blossom all over as everything went dark and all he could hear was his mother's scream as he thought about the shattering glass and his father's angry demands.
Nine months in and Gary was just tired, he was tired and he didn't know what to do. No one had come to visit him and fuck he was so lonely and he wondered if it was his fate to die here when they switched his therapists and that's when he met Dr. Kendrick, who didn't look at him like he was a lost little boy but instead smiled warmly at him and gently rubbed his shoulders. The touch felt good and fuck if he didn't want just one hug or one good job so he complied to the nice doctor. Even Gary Smith had to rest at some point.
He didn't expect it to go so wrong and he didn't expect the doctor to put the white cloth to his mouth and he didn't expect to choke on the intensity of the chemicals and he didn't expect the soft voice going relax, relax, you're just pent up baby boy and suddenly he was so fucking scared and he needed out he needed to get out he was sobbing and he couldn't die here not like this.
Months later he was able to find a knife on the doctor's table and he leapt at the chance, holding it close to him and screaming let me go or I'll fucking kill you, do you think I have anything to lose? I don't have any fucking family I don't have any friends, I have nothing, so you better release me right fucking now or I'll slit your fucking throat open, and the doctor, not stupid in the slightest, filed for Gary to get out on good behavior.
Integration back to Bullworth was just as shitty as he thought it'd be and every little scream or movement that was too sharp would have Gary flinching and going quiet. Everyone seemed to be waiting on him to do something but he didn't know what to do anymore and he didn't know what to believe. He missed the taste of cigars and the sight of the contellations in the stars above him.
He wanted to apologize to them when he saw them in the hallway but he didn't know how. He knew they were looking at him and thinking why is he so quiet now? What's wrong with him? but he didn't know what to do or say until one day he bumped into Petey and nearly fell apart as he whispered you never came, you never came to see me. Pete fixed him with a look of pity and Gary could feel his eyes lingering on his collarbone - I didn't want to, not after what you had become. And Gary was left thinking about that for the better part of a week.
He hated himself but he was suddenly sure he had to make it up to Peter Kowalski if not anyone else, and suddenly he was back - fake it till you make it, he thought as he laughed and poked and prodded but Petey seemed to see right through his act. It wasn't until Gary had curled against him in the living room that he broke and whispered gentle sorry's in a soft tone under his breath, promising that he'd try so hard to get better, that he just needed time and that everything was suddenly terrifying.
Pete said he understood but how could he, Gary wondered. Gary spent a lot of time picking at his skin after hours until one day Petey brought Jimmy along and, taking Gary gently by the arm, led him into the car where they took him to see a new doctor and got him set up with new medication.
They worked, for a while, and everything seemed relieving. Gary could finally press against Petey in the halls again and Jimmy had taken to gently patting his shoulder or holding onto his wrist as if guiding a small child. It felt nice to be herded like this. Suddenly Gary realized how lucky he was, to be let back in.
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does this boy look familiar to you? no? this is benjamin wheeler, shot to death in 2012 by adam lanza, the sandy hook shooter. look at him. the face of innocence. he would have turned twelve this september. i am ashamed of my own community, the tcc, of the people who romanticise the man who killed him.
i was deeply close with one of ben’s family members, and he’s torn over this. seriously. benjamin was six years old when he was brutally murdered. he was shot at close range, multiple times. his family has to celebrate christmas without him. they have to suffer thinking how old their precious boy would be on his birthday every year. i could hear the pain in his voice when he would talk about sandy hook. it was heartbreaking to hear him speak about it, about ben. but you sickos just don’t care, do you? now this isn’t aimed at the people who are simply interested. I’M interested in true crime. it’s the people who take things just too far.
many people in this community can name random fun facts about lanza. what he likes to do in his free time, what music he listens to, what his handwriting looks like, everything. but, could you name anything about any of the victims? well, benjamin loved the beatles. he enjoyed sports, specifically swimming and soccer. his favourite meal was bacon and eggs. he has an older brother named nate. he wanted to be an architect and a paleontologist. he wanted a model of the number 7 subway train for christmas. he could also play the piano.
if you idolise adam lanza, or any other murderer for that matter, unfollow me. there is nothing beautiful about a six year old being murdered. about anyone being murdered. look at these pictures again. look at the life in his eyes. lanza took that away from him, something no man should have the power to do. i am so awfully disturbed that some people log into tumblr and post aesthetic images and love letters about this man. he was severely ill and deranged and he is no saviour. he has caused so much pain to so many people.
don’t remember adam lanza. instead, remember the names of his victims. charlotte bacon. daniel barden. rachel d’avino. olivia engel. josephine gay. dylan hockley. dawn lafferty hochsprung. madeline hsu. catherine hubbard. chase kowalski. jesse lewis. ana marquez-greene. james mattioli. grace mcdonnell. anne marie murphy. emilie parker. jack pinto. noah posner. caroline previdi. jessica rekos. avielle richman. lauren rousseau. mary sherlach. victoria soto. benjamin wheeler. allison wyatt.
so, i dare you. i dare you to look at the face of this child and tell me that you still want to go out on a date with adam lanza. i dare you to say those things whilst pretending that his family can hear you. forget adam lanza, remember benjamin wheeler.
#adam lanza#school shooting#true crime community#tcc#sandy hook#shooting#murder#true crime#in loving memory#connecticut#december 2012#stop romanticizing it#stop romanticising killers
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a rose from rosa
It's Valentine's Day 2019, and the squad finds out that Jake and Amy have never celebrated the holiday together. And yet, for the past decade, Amy's been getting valentine gifts from a secret admirer who's not Jake. Or so it may seem.
for @letsperaltiago (from your secret valentine <3) read on ao3
2019.
“How have the two of you been married for years and years and not celebrated Valentine’s Day even once?”
“We haven’t been married years and years,” Amy denies, and Rosa only rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, Rosa. We got married like, last year. You were at our wedding. Keep up!”
“Rosa, I didn’t know you liked Valentine’s Day,” Terry remarks as he walks past, tearing open a new cup of yoghurt. Apple flavor, from Gina’s flavor of the month fridge thing she got him subscribed to. “Guess you’re a ro-“
“I don’t,” she interrupts, quick and harsh before he can carry on with this line of thought. “Valentine’s Day is a sham. Florists use it as an excuse to sell roses. Stores use it to sell candy and cards.”
“Oh,” Terry backs off, kind of terrified, and decides to dig into his yoghurt instead.
“Wait, Rosa, you don’t like Valentine’s Day?” Amy clarifies, holding her hand up in confusion. “But you get gifts every year. Why would you let anyone send you gifts if you hate the holiday so much?”
Rosa looks momentarily taken aback by this question. Lucky for her, her lack of response does not mean silence in the conversation.
“I mean, they’re probably all from ex-cons and criminals. She pulls in the interrogation room, Ames. Rosa has scared countless criminals into falling in love with her,” Jake says, obviously very impressed. “Wish I knew how to do that.”
“Hey, what are we talking about?” Charles asks as he returns from the break room. He’d been having some kind of fight with Hitchcock and Scully that no one else could really be bothered with.
“We–“
“We’re talking about how Jake and Amy have never celebrated Valentine’s Day. As a couple,” Rosa almost desperately interjects, as if she’s afraid of this topic of conversation to be focused on her. That’s not really suspicious though, because she doesn’t tend to enjoy being the focus of most conversations.
“What?!” Charles slams whatever he’s holding on the table, and everyone flinches at the sound. He glares at Jake and Amy. “Tell me that’s not true!”
Jake and Amy sigh.
“We’ve just,” Amy begins to explain, “we just haven’t had the time.”
2015.
“You’re as... sweet as gummy worms?”
“Jake, if you’re planning on getting me something for Valentine’s Day, I’d suggest you don’t run through your ideas out loud and in front of me,” she says without looking up from her paperwork, working on a report she’s been struggling with for a while. It hasn’t put her in the best mood. “And please, don’t compare me to gummy worms. That alone would be a great Valentine’s Day gift. In fact, I’d prefer it if I wasn’t compared to candy of any kind.” She looks up, her eyes widen, and she suddenly realizes how hostile she might have come across. “I mean, anything’s good though. So... keep up the good work, boyfriend!”
Her tone is light and awkward towards the end, she’s trying to sound as nice about this as possible, which, well, isn’t a shock. They’re uncharted waters, they’re a new relationship, and they haven’t even had a fight yet. It’s cute that Amy’s trying to be nice so that nothing gets ruined, because god knows it would kill him if this thing they’ve got going on blew up in their faces so quick. It would kill them both.
And yet, Jake yearns for a future where neither of them are quite so scared, where they don’t fret about stepping on the other’s toes just a little, where Amy bosses him around like she did in the past and now does in the bedroom. He knows he’d love her so much more for it.
“It’s okay,” he smiles, “this isn’t for you, it’s for Charles. When he found out Gina and I used to give each other friendship valentines as kids, he got super jealous so now if I don’t get him a gift every year he gets hella grumpy.”
“Oh wow,” Amy laughs almost relievedly. “That’s sweet.”
“Don’t worry,” his eyes light up with that sparkle they get when he grins, “your va–“
“Delivery for Amy Santiago?”
“Oh,” Amy turns around, and smiles as she receives what appears to be a basket of various Valentine’s Day gifts. “Oh wow, this is amazing.”
Gina walks past and looks up from her phone upon seeing the love-filled monstrosity. “Wow, you’re a little early, Jake.”
“Oh, this isn’t from Jake,” Amy says knowingly, almost pointedly, actually, and Jake gives a sort of awkward smile in response. “It’s from my secret valentine.”
“Your secret what now?”
Rosa walks by, groaning. “Damn it, we’re doing secret valentines now? Is secret santa not enough for–“
“It’s not a precinct thing,” Amy explains. “I was on a blind date about five years back and they send me Valentine’s Day gifts every year. It’s kind of a tradition. Don’t you guys remember?”
Gina and Rosa look at each other, indicating that they have zero recollection of this whatsoever. Jake is strangely silent throughout all this.
“Okay, that’s a whole can of worms,” says Gina, giving her an inquisitive look. “A blind date? So you’ve met them?”
“Met them? Not physically.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Rosa crosses her arms, looking stern. “Shouldn’t these gifts stop by now since you have a boyfriend?”
“She doesn’t know who this person is,” says Jake. “She doesn’t know any of their contact information, so there’s no way she can get the gifts to stop, unless she found out who her secret valentine was."
“Yeah...” Amy looks over at him. “That’s exactly right, Jake. I don’t remember telling you any of that though.”
Jake looks flustered. “Uh... I figured it out because I’m such a good detective and boyfriend?”
“Okay, but I still don’t understand this blind date thing of yours, Ames–“ Gina continues, but gets cut off when Charles barges into the conversation.
“Blind date?!” He looks very worked up. “Amy, if you’re cheating on Jake, I will kill you! I swear to god, I will kill–“
“I’m not cheating on Jake!” Amy retorts in exasperation. “I’m talking about a blind date I went on years ago on Valentine’s Day. It was... one of those things where you don’t see the person because there’s a divider put up and you talk to each other through these devices that mask what your real voice is.”
“That sounds creepy,” Rosa makes a face. “Why would you go on a date like that?”
2009.
“I don’t know, Kylie, I think I’m better off alone for now,” Amy speaks quietly into her phone, nearly shuddering at the thought of dating again. She only just broke things off with Constantine, and she already knew she didn’t want to be with him since... hours after their first sexual engagement. Imagine who she might get saddled with this time? “Plus, this whole thing seems sketchy.”
“It’s not sketchy,” Kylie insists, and she seems offended Amy would think so. “It’s a blind date.”
“Exactly. A blind date where I don’t get to see who I’m talking to. Or hear their real voice. You know what? I’ve changed my mind, it’s not sketchy, it’s downright creepy, Kylie.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!” There’s a lull in their conversation. “Okay, look, there’s some benefits to this thing too. If you don’t like the person you’re on the date with, you can just choose not to reveal your name and contact information. They won’t see your face or know how you sound like! Doesn’t that sound safe?”
“What if they seem nice at first, but then when I choose to meet them they turn out to be weird once we really get to know each other?”
“How’d that be different from any of your past relationships?”
Amy looks up, scowling. That wasn’t Kylie speaking, that was Jake, who’s apparently been eavesdropping this whole time. He’s fiddling with his pen and grinning at her, legs on top of his desk like the disrespectful degenerate he is. Kylie, on the other hand, is laughing her head off on the other line. Traitor.
“What? You forget how loud your voice gets when you get all anxious and stuff. What’s this about a blind date?”
“It’s none of your business,” she seethes, looking away from him and trying to keep her voice down. “Can we be done with this now, Kylie? I have work.”
“You always have work,” Kylie groans, “I’ll hang up if you say yes.”
“Fine!” She whispers harshly. “I’ll go on the date, okay? Promise me this is just a one-time Valentine’s Day thing?”
“I promise,” she says. “After this, I’ll put aside my guilt about getting married before you and I won’t force you to do anything ever again.”
“Okay, great. I’m hanging up now.”
“Wear something pretty!”
Amy shuts her flip phone harder than she usually does and this action coincides with a file getting slammed down on her desk. By Rosa.
She gulps. “Uh, hey... Diaz,” she says that deliberately, remembering how someone got punched the other week for calling her Rosa. She would rather go un-punched today, thank you very much.
Rosa snorts. “Hey yourself. That’s the Kowalski file.”
She fumbles in realization, dropping some papers, which she sees Jake snickering at from the corner of her eye. Asshole. “Thanks,” she says to Rosa, who picks a pen up for her. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she crosses her arms now, smiling slightly. “So. Blind date?”
“Oh yes, Rosa,” Jake chimes in, uninvited as usual. Amy hates how he seems to just know everyone so well and so deeply, and how he occasionally pretends to know her too. Sometimes he’s right about the things he claims to know about her, but those are probably lucky guesses. “Detective Santiago here’s going on a blind date for Valentine’s Day.”
He makes sure to emphasize that for effect, and it works.
“Woah,” says Gina, who’s returning from god knows where. “A blind date on Valentine’s Day? That just seems tacky, Santiago.”
“Not that this is at all related to work,” Amy says carefully but pointedly. “But I’m not voluntarily going on this blind date. Just doing it to appease my friend Kylie.”
“Wow. You must be a really good friend.”
Hm. Was that a heartfelt compliment? Amy’s not sure she expected it, especially from Jake, but she’ll take it. “I guess I am.”
“I mean, to go on a crazy bondage-themed blind date on Valentine’s Day just to make your friend–“
“What? It’s not bondage-themed!” Amy protests in an outrage, and the rest laugh at this. “Where did you get that?”
“You said it was a sketchy, creepy, thing where you couldn’t see your date. Sounds sexual to me. Hey, I’m not judging–“
“Because there’s nothing to judge,” she retorts, firm on this. “It’s just an anonymous blind date. Whether there’s a second date will be completely up to me. But everyone’s clothes stay on.”
“That sounds dumb and boring,” Gina says, disgusted. “I thought Valentine’s Day was supposed to be romantic. You’re ruining Valentine’s Day.”
“Eh, who cares,” Rosa responds nonchalantly. “Valentine’s Day is a sham. Florists use it as an excuse to sell roses. Stores use it to sell candy and cards.”
“Rosa,” Gina places her hand on her chest, clutching it dramatically. “You’re not telling me you don’t like Valentine’s Day, are you?”
“No, that’s... exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Well, then stop telling me! Because girl, I’m gonna change your mind.”
2019.
“Delivery for Rosa Diaz?”
Rosa looks like she’s just seen a ghost. She doesn’t move.
“Rosa Diaz?”
Everyone looks weirded out at her reaction. She still doesn’t move.
“Uh, she’s here,” Jake says, pointing to Rosa, and the delivery guy gives her a weird look before placing an elaborate basket filled with many Valentine’s Day themed gifts. There’s nothing surprising about the whole thing. Except Rosa’s reaction to it. She now appears to be gathering herself, shaking her head as she puts the gift basket under her desk.
“Rosa, what’s wrong?”
“What? Nothing.” She clears her throat. “Nothing’s wrong. Shut up.”
“You get Valentine’s Day gifts every year, why do you look so shaken?”
“Nothing I just,” her voice is choked up, “I just didn’t think I’d get one this year.”
“Why not? I mean—wait.”
“Oh,” Amy continues from Jake’s apparent silent epiphany. “All the gifts came from one person.”
“What?” Rosa denies, an octave too loud for truth. “No they didn’t. They were all, all from random losers I don’t know.” It’s almost pitiful to watch her like this. “Talk about literally anything else right now.”
“Okay... I’ve got something,” Charles begins hesitantly, not wanting to cross Rosa. She gets vulnerable from time to time, they all know this by now, but she never becomes less of a threat. “Why haven’t you two given each other anything for Valentine’s Day? I can’t believe I let this happen.”
“You let this happen?”
“We always get swamped with work, Charles. That’s all there is to it!”
“No! That can’t be all there is to it!”
2015.
“So,” Jake leans over to Amy’s side of the table. “Valentine’s Day is in a few days.”
She smiles, her face lighting up actually. She looks nervous yet excited. This would be their first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and that’s big. “You’re right. Got any... ideas of what we should do?”
“A few,” he winks, indicating that its sexual ideas he has.
Holt bursts into the briefing room, and they sit upright in shock. Or well, Amy is. Jake nearly falls off his chair. He looks like he’s not to be trifled with this morning, like he’s stressed out about something.
“Peralta. I need you on a week-long stakeout with Sergeant Jeffords. Your murder case just became a top-priority drug investigation.”
Terry nods. “Yes, sir. We won’t rest until we’ve got our guy.”
Jake and Amy look at each other. “Crap.”
2019.
“Oh wow, that really is all there was to it,” Charles nods, standing corrected. “How about every year since then?”
“Stuff just kept cropping up,” Amy explains, and Jake looks tense about this again.
“That’s no excuse!” he whines. “You can’t be married and not celebrating Valentine’s Day. Jake, normally I’d blame Amy for this–“
“What?”
“–but there’s something you’re not telling me here! You’re getting beaten out by some random loser who gives Amy Valentine’s Day gifts every year!”
2009.
A blonde woman rushes into the bullpen and makes a beeline toward Amy’s desk.
“Woah woah woah,” she looks up in shock. “You must be Kylie.”
Her shock melts into simple delight. “And you must be the Jake I keep hearing about.”
“Oh wow,” Jake reaches out and shakes her hand. “Amy talks about me a lot? Gotta say I’m flattered, can’t say I’m surprised.”
Kylie rolls her eyes, but keeps her smile. “She told me you’d be like this. If I didn’t know what a slob you were, I’d tell her to date you.”
Jake laughs nervously, and a bit too loud, but it’s chill, because it’s 2009, and Captain McGintley is their captain. No one gets into trouble for being a too-loud laughing slob, except for with Amy. He’s so glad for that. His desk is a complete mess and sure he sees the occasional ant but why should that have to change?
“Great!” His lips are frozen in a not at all convincing grin. “Just great! Hey Kylie, what are you doing here? Amy went to investigate a lead.”
The almost deranged energy to the way he talks never drops throughout this.
“Oh, I just came here to charge my phone. Amy and I have the same phone brand. My phone went flat. Don’t tell her I was here though.”
“Oh yeah, sure,” especially since Kylie being here violates many rules. He’s not sure how she got in so easy. Maybe this precinct could do with some tighter security. “Any pal of Amy’s a pal of mine.”
“Ooh,” she grimaces, “please don’t call me that."
“Not a fan of pal? Alright,” he looks down, and pretends to focus on his paperwork instead of letting Kylie know how distracting and terrifying her presence here is. Also he does not want to do his paperwork. He hears the faint sounds of her phone starting back up.
“Oh crap,” he hears, a few moments later. “This isn’t good.”
“Anything wrong, buddy?”
“Yeah, I don’t like buddy either,” she looks up from her phone. “I’ve just been told Amy’s blind date for tonight cancelled.”
“Aw man, and Amy was really looking forward to that!”
She doesn’t sense his sarcasm and begins to look panicked, the kind of horror that scares Jake into thinking maybe telling the truth would get him in even more trouble than this bold-faced lie.
“She did?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah, totally. She couldn’t wait to... get off work and go for that date.”
He’s hoping maybe at some point, she’ll just stop taking it seriously, and never bring it up again, and never tell Amy, and also agree to be his best friend.
“What am I gonna tell Amy? Oh, this is bad, this is bad—wait—a replacement. I just need a replacement!”
Jake claps his hands together. “Yeah! Yes! You go, Kylie! Four for you, Kylie!”
“Mean girls?”
“Best movie that came out five years ago. Because it’s 2009. And that movie came out... in 2004.”
“I don’t have time for movie release facts, Jake!”
“Sorry!” He holds his hands up. “Sorry.”
“I need a replacement date. So Amy doesn’t get stood up.”
“Yes!” He points at her in agreement. “You do need that.”
“You!”
“Huh?”
“You, you’re gonna be the replacement.” She smiles wide now, proud of herself for figuring it out. “Yeah, you’re gonna be Amy’s blind date.”
“Uh, no I’m not.”
“Uh, oh yes you are,” Kylie scowls at him now.
“Yes I am,” he says in fear. “Except I can’t!”
“And why not?”
“Because... Amy and I work together. That would make things weird.”
“Are you dumb? It’s just the one date. She’d never know it was you. If you’re afraid she’ll want a second date somehow, then just be terrible on purpose. Amy’s beautiful. She’s gonna find someone great. I only make her go on the occasional date so she doesn’t stay cooped up in here where romance goes to die.”
“What...” he bites on his lip. “This place is super romantic.”
“Uh huh,” Kylie snorts, unplugging her phone, which apparently got juiced up enough during their conversation for her to leave conveniently right now. “I’m gonna go. Don’t be late, and–“ she hands him a slip of paper–“here’s the place.”
“I won’t,” Jake says, not exactly a promise but a hopeful notion for himself, given his track record with attendance, which doesn’t really matter at work yet, because it’s 2009. “This is... gonna work out great.”
2019.
“Hey!” Rosa calls out, stern, her finger pointing straight at Amy who looks like she’s about to get eaten alive. “What’s that?”
She’s currently interrupting Charles who’d been cajoling (note: annoying) the rest of the squad with romantic (note again: gross) escapades with Genevieve on every past Valentine’s Day.
“Uh... nothing?” Amy is holding onto a very fancy looking card, concealing it in her hands.
“Don’t give me that crap,” her forehead wrinkles as she gets off her desk. “Give me that.”
“It’s just, it’s, it’s my ideas for Valentine’s–“ she throws the card at Jake–“Jake, catch!”
Jake looks at her in horror. He obviously wants to know who this secret valentine Rosa’s been hiding for years is, but he also doesn’t want to die. “Amy! Why’d you do that?”
“Partners in life!”
“Oh, right, love you–“
Rosa scowls at him, still grabbing onto Amy. “Jake, don’t you dare read that–“
“Oh, I already saw the card,” says Terry, to confused looks, “what? I thought if I found out who was secretly sending you gifts I could help you get together with them."
"Yeah," Amy assents, "I only looked at the card too because he put it down on the desk. I'm sorry, Rosa."
"Terry just wants his friends to be happy."
“Aw, Sarge,” Charles touches his chest. “That is so sweet–“
“That is invasive and a violation of–“
“Diaz, relax,” Terry says, holding his hands up to soothe her. “There was no name on the card. I wouldn’t know who it was any better than you.”
Rosa deflates in relief, and Jake looks down at the card. “Uh oh,” his eyes widen after he reads it.
“What, what is it?”
Jake looks up at everyone, just a little bit apologetic, a little bit wary of Rosa, who... looks like she’s given up. “I... know who Rosa’s secret valentine is.”
2009.
“Godiva chocolates?” Rosa holds up the pretty looking box, it has a pink post it taped on saying ‘from your secret admirer, xoxo’. She scoffs at Gina, who’s sat at her desk subtly grinning like she’s a hero. “You really think this is gonna change my mind about Valentine’s Day?”
“You really don’t know me, huh?”
Rosa smirks, proud as she crosses her arms. “No. And I don’t intend to.”
“Stop lying to yourself, sweetie,” Gina’s words flow slow like sticky honey, tender and unwavering. Rosa’s having a hard time convincing herself she’s not a bee. “Here’s something you don’t know about me: I don’t just do one thing and leave it at that if I’m trying to accomplish something. You think chocolates is all I have planned?”
“Whatever plan you have, I don’t want any–“
Gina’s phone rings, and Rosa hates how it gives her power, power that Rosa doesn’t have. She can’t say that about most people. She finds that she found her match when Gina Linetti first stepped into this building. No, not match like that, gross. She means it in a competitive way.
“Jake?”
“Gina, I don’t think I can do this.”
“Then don’t,” she says, and winks at Rosa. Rosa isn’t even sure why she’s winking. She elects to roll her eyes, but the fact that she reacts at all is Gina’s victory.
“What? Gina, you’re supposed to tell me that I have to do this!”
“Okay, then do it.”
“Okay, I’m doing it.” Jake takes a deep breath. “Thanks? I guess?”
“You’re welcome. Bye...” Gina puts her phone down.
“What’d Jake want?”
“Who knows?”
Jake, who’s on the line, who Gina unknowingly hasn’t hung up on yet, sighs and hangs up. He slowly walks back to his chair.
“Sorry about that,” he says into the microphone, and then he hears Amy say “no, it’s fine!” back through the speaker, her voice muffled to sound different but still easy on the ears. He misses her real voice. “Yeah, there was a line at the bathroom. So, about your question...”
Jake screwed up. Unlike what Kylie said to do, Jake didn’t play the asshole blind date who you never want to see again, he played himself. Which, well, he figured was enough to make Amy not want anything more. But the unthinkable happened. Amy... likes him. Well, she likes blind date unseeable him at least. She laughed at his jokes, they bantered back and forth, and he can’t see her face, but he’s pretty sure she didn’t make a single expression of annoyance. Not even once.
So what’s the issue here? Yeah, well... Amy wants a second date. In person. And that’s just too much for Jake, he can’t let that happen, because Amy finding out he’s him is one thing, but Amy knowing that they were on a date and she wanted a second one? That would just make things so awkward at work. For her, at least. And while Jake is usually a purveyor of Amy doing and saying embarrassing things... he feel like this one would cross the line. She’d never understand and maybe she’d even leave the Nine-Nine and they wouldn’t be partners anymore.
That scares Jake more than anything else.
“So? What do you think? I mean, not to sound too forward, but I thought the date went well... or was that just me?”
“No, it’s not just you,” Jake insists, because keeping this under wraps is one thing, but he doesn’t want to hurt Amy and make her think that there’s something genuinely wrong with her. “I loved this. You’re amazing, and I’m sure you’re beautiful, although that doesn’t matter because you uh, your personality is beautiful enough.”
She sighs, sounding disappointed. “Just get to the point, please.”
“I can’t see you. Ever. And it’s not that I don’t want to! I just—I just can’t—and I can’t explain why.”
“Okay...”
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs. “I know. It sounds sketchy as hell. But I’m serious. You’re great, and I’ll prove it. We just can’t ever see each other.”
She seems interested. “How?”
“Today’s Valentine’s Day, right? Yeah, I mean, that’s why we’re here. How about... I promise you I’ll be your valentine every year from now till... forever I guess.”
“That’s sweet, but what does that mean?”
“I’ll send you a Valentine’s Day gift every year,” he nods. “And that way you know how special you are. Every year.”
“That doesn’t sound fair,” she says. “If I give you my address and don’t know anything about you, what’s gonna stop you from breaking into my house and murdering me in cold blood?”
“I’ll set it up through this... is this an agency? I’m uh, the... the people in charge of this super anonymous blind date thing. They have both of our personal information, right?”
“Yeah, they do. I only put down my work address though, not that you deserve to know that.”
“Okay. I’ll... get this place to deliver it to you. We do it through the middleman, and that way this whole thing stays anonymous. And you get a valentine every year, no matter what. I won’t make the gifts too sexual, so whoever you end up dating won’t get jealous.”
She laughs. “You know what? That actually sounds nice. You have a deal.” A pause. “For what it’s worth, I really love the way you think.”
“Oh, thank you.” He refrains from saying ‘and I love you’, because even he knows that’d be too weird. “And... for what it’s worth, since we’re doing that now, I think you deserve to be so happy. Because you’re one of the best people... I know.”
“Wow, you got all that from one date?”
Uh oh. Making it weird, he’s making it weird. Time to tap out before he gives the game away.
“Uh... yeah! I have to, I have to go.”
2019.
“So, who is it?”
Curious eyes latch onto him, every pair looking but Rosa, who Jake is scared to hurt.
“I–“
“Just tell them, Jake,” Rosa says, defeated, and her consent only drives up the desperation of the crowd.
“Tell us!”
“It’s me!” He yells, and everyone shows a range of expressions, best described by confusion, perhaps a bit of disgust. “It was me all along, okay?”
“That’s a lie if I ever heard one.”
“Jake, you have a wife. You can’t really expect us to believe you’ve been secretly sending Rosa Valentine’s Day gifts every year, right?”
“What?” he scoffs. “No, I’m not talking about Rosa. I meant Amy. I’m Amy’s secret valentine. The one, the one who’s been sending her gifts all these years.” he looks sheepishly at Amy. “Surprise?”
“Oh, I knew that.”
“What?!”
Amy shrugs. “I found out years ago, Jake.”
“How?” His entire life has been a lie. Okay, maybe not his entire life. Just, the last ten years. Or whenever Amy found out about this.
“I’m a good detective,” she says, crossing her arms, “also that company who organized our blind date got investigated and shut down and I might have taken a peek at the files.”
“Oh, you’re good,” says Charles, nodding his head up and down in a creepily approving way. He suddenly scowls at Jake. “Why didn’t you tell her until now? You could’ve gotten together much sooner!”
Jake looks appalled by this accusation. “I didn’t tell her? Don’t you mean–“ he turns his attention to Amy–“why didn’t you ask me?”
“Why would I?” Amy snorts. “You’re the only one who supposedly had that information. When we weren’t dating, I just assumed it was because you weren’t into me like that and you were just being a good friend. Then you told me you liked me and, nothing, and then we got together, and then we dated for years, and then we got married–“
“I think we get the gist of it, Amy,” Jake says in embarrassment.
“I don’t understand,” Terry pipes up, “why couldn’t you just tell her any time during these last ten years? Especially after y’all got married. Terry hates secrets kept over a long period of time between couples who are supposed to love and trust each other.”
Rosa grins subtly. “Wow. That one was a mouthful.”
“Yeah,” he frowns. “Terry didn’t think that particular hatred through.”
“Jake didn’t tell me because he wanted to get more and more bad at hiding it until I got suspicious and asked him about it,” Amy smiles proudly at Jake, who looks impressed because she’s spot on, “I’m assuming.”
“No you’re not.”
“No I’m not, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you were going for,” she smiles again, sickly sweet and nauseating for all others but him. “You wanted it to be a dramatic reveal. A blaze of glory.”
“That I did,” Jake grinned. “You know me so well.”
“But I found that boring.”
“Oh,” he deflates completely, almost looking crushed.
“Because I already knew,” she explains, and it dawns on him that it was only her part of his supposed plan that she disliked. “And also–“
“Package for Jake Peralta?”
Jake’s face lights up and he turns toward her, bursting with excitement. The supposed delivery man is carrying a boombox.
“You got me a boombox?”
“Wait for it...”
The delivery man clicks on a button and upbeat music starts playing. Suddenly, several other people dressed up uber cool march in and there’s dancing, choreographed dancing, and ska is in the mix somehow, confetti is in the air, balloons rise to the ceiling, and someone kneels down in front of Jake holding up a banner that says ‘WILL YOU BE MY VALENTINE?’
Jake kisses Amy deep and messy and desperately happy. When he pulls away, they share a tiny giggle, and then he kisses her one last time on the forehead for good measure.
“Ames, this is the most romantic thing anyone has done. For me. No, wait, it’s ever. This is super cool. And yes, I will marry you.”
They laugh again, and Amy grabs his arm in a gentle grasp. “I knew I had to go big to top ten years of your work. Also, we’re married. That’s why it’s ridiculous you never told me until now.”
“Worth it,” he says, and he grabs a heart-shaped balloon that’s clearly customized to say ‘My Love For You Is Bigger Than The Nakatomi Plaza!’. “Can I keep this? All of this. This is all crazy awesome and I have no idea how no one pulled their gun out when these guys came in.”
“Oh, I sent a memo to everyone, it’s cool,” he laughs because of course she did, “hey,” she picks up the banner, “look at this.”
In fine print, at the bottom of the banner read the words ‘I Know You’re My Secret Valentine, Idiot. Look What You Made Me Do’.
He gasps, hugging her, “That’s a Taylor Swift ref! Oh my god, you listened to Reputation!”
“Not really it was just the one–“ she sinks into the hug–“oh, what the hell. Yes. I did.”
“Okay,” he releases her from his embrace. “I’m totally gonna top this next year, by the way.”
“You can try,” Amy smiles wide and haughty. “I’m already months into planning next year’s Valentine’s Day.”
They hear Rosa push open her desk drawer with a slam, and they watch as she pulls a rose out of it. Hm, a rose from Rosa. Nice.
“Diaz, where are you going?”
“My shift is up,” she tells Terry, clicking at the lift. “I have to... go see Gina.”
“Gina? Why, she already–“ his eyes widen–“oh.”
“Yeah,” Jake nods, already in the know about this. “Good luck Rosa!”
The doors close, and Jake goes back to smiling at Amy.
“Wow, so Gina’s been Rosa’s secret valentine all along?” Amy marvels. “And she knew?”
“Yeah. I guess... we all needed a push in the right direction today.”
Amy holds up Gina’s card, squinting at it. “I don’t get how you figured that one out. I’ve looked over so many reports written by Gina. This looks nothing like her.”
“Oh, this is her fancy handwriting that she uses when she writes love letters. I’ve known it by heart since grade school.”
“Did any of her penmanship... rub off on you?”
She’s teasing, and he chuckles at it. “No. I still have the worst handwriting in the world. Can I still be your valentine?”
Her next smile is one he’ll remember for centuries. So is the kiss she plants on his cheek. “You don’t even have to ask.”
“Lifetime valentine membership. I knew marrying you was a good idea.”
And really, he’s never believed anything more.
#text#b99#brooklyn nine nine#peraltiago#dianetti#peraltiago fic#b99valentines2019#hope yall like this? lmao#i swear the title doesn't have much to do w the fic i just liked it n went w it#and to letsperaltiago i hope u liked this!!!! hope i did u justice#happy valentine's day!!!
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OC shitpost
So, I notice a lot of u on here are into PJO/HOO/anything Rick Riordan writes.
@storm-broken-wings
@blackjacktheboss
@cindersart
@ananbeth
And that’s who I can think of off the top of my head. If you don’t read him you should, but I’m warning you that the second series (HOO) is slightly iffy.
While the man and his writing has some flaws, I’ll admit he made a damn good storyboard to work with. I have made several Riordanverse OCs, and would like to share them with you all.
First up, my anxious fire boy, Cal Kowalski! Note: I tried to do my research on Judaism and autism, but if I have offended anyone with this character, please let me know and I will change it!
Name: Caleb David “Cal” Kowalski
Hair: brown
Eyes: brown
Age-17
Height: six foot one, someone stop this boy from growing
Mother: Deborah Kowalski, fire chief for the Cleveland fire department. A force to be reckoned with and extremely inventive-once used a nearby lake to fuel the fire hose when there were no hydrants nearby
Godly Parent-Vulcan. A lot of people forget he’s also the god of fire, so when he saw Deborah risking her life to fight it, he was smitten. Completely fell for her when he admitted that he watched her work as a fire chief. Her response? “You’re a god, right? Stop watching people and buildings burn and start fucking helping.”
Sexuality: bi. Let’s be real, he’s admired Ichor and Jason more than once. Is completely devoted to his also bisexual girlfriend. More on her later.
Camp: Jupiter, Fifth Cohort. Has considered moving to Half-Blood, but dropped it after Octavian...oh right, there are people who haven’t read the books. Let’s leave it at that.
Nationality: Polish.
Religion: proudly (though not supremely devoutly) Jewish. Will make all the jokes about his religion. Was very confused when his mother told him his father was a god
Weapon: Roman infantry axe, or dolabra. Has heard all the woodcutter or lumberjack jokes. Has come up with a few of them
Personality: actual golden retriever, loyal, kind, hardworking, patient, and generous. Won’t fight unless it’s in self-defense, for training, or against monsters. Even then, does so reluctantly. Shy, clumsy, awkward introvert. Not great with public speaking, social interaction, or crowds, though he tries. Ride-or-die friend once you get to know him. Happiest when working at the forges or with his close friends. Autistic. Stims by lacing his fingers together or through card tricks, often says inappropriate things at the wrong time, tends to compartmentalize negative emotions, can talk about forging, metalworking, and firefighters for hours on end, needs systems and routines to function, thinks in very black and white terms. Goes nonverbal when angry, sad, or frustrated.
Powers/Abilities-
Geothermokinesis-can manipulate molten earth, phase change earth into lava and vice versa, cause magma to rise from deep within the earth, forming miniature volcanoes, turn nearby rock molten, and telekinetically project blasts of lava, magma, or molten earth at targets
Weaknesses-socially awkward, gullible, black and white thinking, tends to think badly of himself, survivors guilt, lava he creates can spread and cause more damage if left unattended, can be harmed by his own powers, powers are linked to emotional state so he has to keep his temper or things start to melt
History
-Fire chief mom with large extended family
-mom met Vulcan one night while firefighting, it was rocky at first but after some talking things through and some kissing they made it work
-cal was born that August
-when Cal was three, tragedy struck
-his mother was diagnosed with mesothelioma
-they suspected it was from a fire in a chemical factory shed fought
-the firefighters she was chief of helped raise Cal while his mother underwent treatment,as did his extended family
-He grew up shy and quiet, the opposite of his mother but very much like his father, had difficulty reading, and could never pay attention that well if he didn’t like something
-It took a few years, several theories (some well meaning, some extremely inappropriate, some both) and an official diagnosis at the age of seven before the people taking care of him realized he was autistic, dyslexic, and had ADHD, and that they had to respect that instead of treating him like a normal kid
-some of his extended family thought that meant he wasn’t normal
-he doesn’t talk to them anymore
-the firemen and ninety percent of his family were totally fine with it, even when other things started to happen
-they found him in the courtyard at age ten, a miniature volcano spouting lava into the air and him frantically trying to turn it off
-the Mist shielded them from seeing the entire thing, but they still sat him down and had a Talk about playing with fire
-but Cal knew what happened
-At age twelve, his mother took a sudden turn for the worse. When he went to see her with Hector and Brandon, two firefighters, he was turned away by a doctor that did not look at all like a doctor to him
-The Doctor insults him, only to be challenged by Hector, who can see through the Mist
-He tells Cal to run and see his mom before punching the doctor square in the face
-Cal makes it to his moms room, only to find her struggling and squirming as a monster in a lab coat shoves a pillow onto her face
-Terrified but furious, he scares off the monster with a blast of lava from the ground, which also sets the room on fire
-Making it out of the room, he turns to his mom, only for her to tell him that he’s the son of a god
-He predictably freaks the fuck out, running with her to where he last saw the firefighters
-Only to find that Darnell is dead and Hector is losing the fight against something that looks way too much like the estrie he’s read about once in the Sefer Hasidim
-Seeing Cal, Hector grins with bloody teeth before driving a fire extinguisher into the things head
-it collapses, but before it can get up again the building groans as the fire spreads
-They flee the hospital, forced to leave Darnell behind as the alukah pursues them
-When they get back to the house, everyone is in an uproar. Why is Deborah back, why is Hector’s mouth bleeding, where the hell is Darnell
-While everyone is arguing and taking care of Deborah, Hector and Cal’s aunt Aviva take him into Cal’s room
-He and Aviva confirm what Cal’s mom said, also telling him about the existence of Camp Jupiter. It turns out he is a former legionnaire, having come to Cleveland two years before Cal was born to look after him at Deborah’s request. Aviva can just see through the mist, though Deborah confided in her in case she died before she could do so herself.
-They don’t have much time. After what Cal did at the hospital, his aura is going to attract every monster from here to Columbus.
-He gives him a weird-looking axe, explaining that this dolabra was once his when he was a legionary but now he wants Cal to have it
-They all share a hug, with Hector telling him that everyone in the house has his back
-There’s a knock on the door, revealing the monster from earlier, now disguised as a human social worker via the Mist
-Uses a bunch of ableist language to explain why they should give Cal to him
-No one in the house buys his bullshit, even when he appears human
-The firefighters don’t like the government in general because they offered no workers comp for the cancer their chief got from the factory, and they’ve watched her fight against something that the government was supposed to help her with, the government draining her money all the while. But now this jackass is insulting their kid.
-The extended family are unwilling to give him up, and especially not to a man who insults and belittles him
-monster gets fed up, says that if cal stays here he’ll keep coming for him until he gets what he wants
-cue the entire family telling him to get bent
-Aviva tells Hector to take Cal and go, that she’ll explain to them why and that they all love him
-Roadtrip to California with monsters on their tail
-the estrie catches up to them in Oakland, flanked by its monster buddy, which Cal now knows is a telekhine
-it’s pissed at cal because he’s a demigod and because his father took over their forges
-they fight, and Cal uses the dolabra and kills the telekhine, burnt from his earlier encounter with it
-he’s extremely grossed out by this
-Hector intercepts the estrie before it can get to Cal and fights the estrie, but he’s out of practice and is fatally injured
-Cal watches him die and is furious, pleading to know why the estrie did it
-the estrie just wants to kill a Jewish human, it doesn’t particularly care that he’s a demigod. Hector was in the way.
-Using his powers intentionally for the first time, Cal opens up a volcanic fissure under the estrie and sends her down into the magma
-He then takes Hector to the camp tunnel before passing out
-He’s found there by Gwen, who stands for him
-Some time after, she pulls him aside and tells him that she read in the local paper (all praetors and centurions read the outside paper to get the news for the camp, fight me) that there was a suspected terrorist attack in Ohio around the time Cal came in
-He breaks down and tells her it’s his house, there are no confirmed survivors except for three firemen and his mother
-Alex comes along a month later, and they dance around each other for a while before making it official
Trivia
-he writes letters to his mother whenever he can
-Darnell taught him how to play cards and do card tricks, both for fun and as a stim if needed, he burns a card every year on the day he died
-he definitely had a thing for Jason before he started dating Alex. It never went anywhere though.
-he makes the menorah for the camp-wide Hanukkah celebration (cmon you’re telling me everyone at CJ is Christian or atheist or agnostic? Cmon man)
-he imagines his dolabra is a fire axe when he’s fighting monsters
-his aunt taught him to cook Polish cuisine, among other things, and his kotlet schabowy is to die for, but he’s recently branched out into Chinese food due to his girlfriend’s complaints about how the restaurant chains near them only serve shitty Chinese food
-can jump rope like a boss due to many hours with his younger cousins
-terrified of heights
-that’s all I’ve got so far! If you guys have any other questions about him, send me an ask!
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Love and authority II
Pairing: Newt Scamander x Female!MacusaPresident!reader
Warnings: ~
a/n: This is an image for the idea of : “IMAGINE Being the President of MACUSA and Newt falls for you“ by @imagination-of-fictional-men .
This is part 2 of “Love and authority” that I decided to upload again. This, because of problems that it didn’t show up properly.
There will be part 3, the last part of this.
Summary:
Newt and you lingered in the thoughts of the other one. The recent attacks of – whatever it was – caused you to take action in form of a conference. But with Newt's secret revealed in front of everyone, you couldn't help him this time … Or could you?
________________________________________
Murder.
As the owl with the letter reached you, you sat on the chair in your kitchen, making yourself breakfast and thinking about the mysterious man you met just yesterday:
Newt Scamander.
You wanted to get to know him better. You wanted to experience him. You wanted him to call your name again, with this beautiful thank you on his seemingly warm lips.
But your thoughts were stopped by the owl, landing in front of the window with the letter, that caused you to immediately make your way to the building of Macusa, calling out to every ministry in the magical world.
Rushing into your office, there were already different Aurors gathering inside.
“Tell me everything. Now.”
And they did. They told you everything you needed to know as the President of Macusa. About the death that occurred in the evening on the day before. The No-Maj that lost his life because of an invincible force, killing him right on the spot.
This is it.
This would be as far as it gets.
And you would make sure of it.
Right now, one of every country sent a wizard to you, gathering in an emergency conference. You, in front of everybody, looking at the body floating right in front of you like a ghost.
You've got too distracted by that man. And this was the consequence you needed to deal with. Maybe, just maybe, if you had taken this man with you, fulfilling your duties, you could have stopped it.
Maybe.
But you didn't know what could have been. You needed to learn out of your mistakes.
You needed to do what needed to be done, informing every important person on the conference about the latest happenings in New York and discussing a possible solution for this chaos.
“This is serious matter that threatens to expose us all” said the Swiss delegate, Heinrich Eberstadt. His eyes roamed over every person gathered, lastly you.
“Proud words of the man that let Gellert Grindelwald slip out of his grab” was your remark, looking right at him and returning his gaze with authority. “You cant' lecture me.”
You needed to have a good look on Eberstadt.
But your gaze lifted from him to the hologram of the dead body, floating in front of you.
“I think the most important thing now is to-”
But your word were cut short as Tina Goldstein stormed into the hall. She seemed stressed, but something like the faintest of a smile lingered on her face.
Instantly, your eyes were on her and you stopped as you recognised the case in her hand.
Newt.
“Madam President, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but this is critical-”
She stopped, just now realizing in what she ran into. Every eye was on her and her confidence seemed to get less and less. Everyone was silent, all too occupied with the surprising behaviour of the Ex-Auror.
“Mrs. Goldstein. I hope you have a good explanation for your rude and surprising intrusion” you said, with the thought of Newt in the back of your mind. Worrying what she was up to. No – you knew what she wanted to do.
At first, Tina looked at you with a nervous look. But she seemed to remind herself of the urgency of what she was going to say. So, she gathered all her confidence, stepping forward and looking directly at you.
“Yes, Ma'am. Yesterday, a man arrived in New York City, with a case full of magical creatures. And – unfortunately – some of them escaped. I hope you remember the person I brought to you yesterday?”
Of course you remembered him.
You actually had the chance to take the case from him that was placed in Tina's Hand right now.
But you didn't take it.
Your (e/c) eyes shifted to the case you remembered all to well, thinking about the man the first time after the letter arrived. Memories tumbled through your head, bringing you the same rapid heart-beating you experienced in his presence.
“Where is he now?” you asked, without any clue of the storm of feelings that raged inside you. This situation needed you to keep your cool, to act like the President of Macusa you were. Especially in front of the many wizards of the different country's.
Tina took one step forward and sat the case onto the floor.
You instantly knew.
She seemed to knock on the lid of it, taking a cautious step backwards and waiting for something – or rather – someone.
After some seconds, the case seemed to open itself from inside and a nervous looking Newt emerged. At first he didn't seem to register the situation he was in, as all eyes were on him. After him the No-Maj Jacob Kowalski, laughing at first, but realising the same thing Newt did.
Newts eyes landed on you and stayed. Taking you in, but with a nervous and cautious look in his eyes. You, on the other hand, tried to not really look at him for more than two seconds.
On the one side, the ginger man was glad to see you again. You, who roamed in his thoughts for the last hours, turning his heart into a roller-coaster. On the other hand … This was not (y/n) in front of him. This was the President of Macusa, Madame (y/l/n).
“Scamander?”
That was when Newts gaze flickered to the British Envoy. Rumours were heard inside the case, but you were just half listening. Something with 'Theseus Scamander? The war hero' and 'No, this is his little brother'.
You were too focused on the burning feeling inside your chest as you knew that you couldn't cover him up.
Not in this situation.
And never again.
Yesterday was a one-time-thing. Nothing you could do again, or you would risk your position. Especially not in front of all these gentleman.
So you did what you needed to do and braced yourself for the impact.
“Goldstein, who is this man next to Mr. Scamander?” you asked. Acted. No suspicion.
Tina instantly turned back to you, focusing on your question.
“This is Jacob Kowalski, Madam President, he's a No-Maj who got bitten by one of Mr. Scamander's creatures” was her answer, immediately causing another discussion to arise.
Newt's eyes found yours again, after roaming around the different persons in the hall. The pleading glimmering inside them left your heart aching, making you wonder how he could have gathered so much power over you.
He already had a chance.
Turning your eyes from him to the floating hologram of the dead body in front of you caused him to follow your gaze. Gasping, focusing on it, seeing the horror of the damage done.
“Merlin's beard … !”
Pretending to not really know this man, you needed to react on him.
“Is this the work of one of your escaped creatures, Mr. Scamander?”
Newts green eyes shot to you, biting his lip, then turning his gaze again to the hologram. He knew what you needed to do. He knew about your position, about your duties and that he had big luck yesterday. But his feelings couldn't accept this, hoping for his beasts that you would at least keep them safe.
The ginger was helpless in this situation. He didn't want to risk your job, but he needed to think about his creatures too...
“No creature did this, Madame President. And please, don't pretend to consider this option ...” he said with a short look towards you, disappointed about your words. “You must know what that was – I mean – look at the marks ...”
That was when your eyes flickered to the dead body, focusing on the evidence Newt pointed out for you. Trying to figure out what could do such things, until an idea struck you.
No.
“An Obscurus ...” you breathed.
Muttering broke out, everybody seemed to be alerted at this point. Much so, yourself.
But that couldn't be.
“This can't be possible. There can't be an Obscurial in New York ...” was all you could say, pressing your lips together and looking through the different faces of wizards around you.
Everyone looked at Newt like he was insane, but with worry in their eyes. Some didn't believe him, some considered his thoughts. But with or without the truth, you knew that you needed take the case away from him as a symbol of at least some security and authority.
Sighing, you looked at Mr. Graves, who seemed as alerted as everyone else. Although there was a strange feeling you've got, your instincts telling you something you didn't understand.
“Mr. Graves. Take that case away from Mr. Scamander.”
Panicked, Newts eyes shot to his case as the said one was gone and next to Graves with a flick of his wand.
“No ... No, no, no, no, no!” was all he muttered, taking some steps towards you until he, Tina and Jacob were forced to their knees. Spells hit them, forcing them into the strange and weak position, wands flying out of their hands.
“Madame President – this isn't right!”
“I decide what is right and wrong ... And I can't let you roam free with your creatures threatening New York.”
Your eyes met Newt's and you hoped he could at least see the true feelings buried inside of you. The silent plead, the silent scream of him to trust him with this, reached you. But it wasn't possible.
“Mr. Scamander, Mrs. Goldstein and Mr. Kowalski. All of you are under arrest” you said, as Graves stood with the case in his hand. Shoving the screams of the ginger into the background of your mind, you stood tall above them.
“No, please – don't hurt them. You need to understand – nothing in there is dangerous! Madame (y/l/n), you know that!”
Breathing in and out you shook your head, breaking Newts heart in the process. Rumours went through the hall, all about suspicion that you may know this man better than you wanted to admit.
“We will decide that, Mr. Scamander” was all you could say, trying not to look into his pained eyes, as the Aurors surrounded them, wands in hand. “Take them to the cells. We will decide what happens to them later.”
Trying to block out the desperate cries of Newt, you turned your head to the side, closing your eyes and breathing in and out. You needed to keep calm, despite the pained feeling spreading through every pore of your body.
“Don't hurt those creatures – there is nothing in there that is dangerous! Please don't hurt them – they are not dangerous ...! Please, they are not dangerous!”
(y/n)!
As much as you tried, all your attempts to ignore the pleading cries of him failed and caused them to rule your head even more. So much, sitting on your comfortable chair, trying to work through the papers in front of you couldn't keep them away.
Sighing you leaned back and allowed yourself a break, but no true break.
Was that the right decision?
Remembering the look Newt gave you made you flinch, making you feel his pain anew. The feelings in your chest told you that you needed to help him. But the reality was different: You needed to think about the safety of the wizarding world and the non-wizarding world. You needed to think about you.
But a tiny part inside of you made you stop.
(y/n)!
You had heard him shout your name, the last word from him before the silence.
Burying your head in your hands, you considered your options:
You could just get along with your life. He was one of many, just one wizard in this world, his beasts roaming free in New York. Maybe, just maybe, it is better like this.
Maybe is a strong word.
Maybe everything he said was true. That you needed to help him, even risking your job, because it is the right thing to do. And you had the feeling that only Newt Scamander, the man and his beasts, were able to find the remaining creatures.
You felt it, you felt the decision you would make.
Until a knock at the door of your office made you stop. A young wizard came in, one that was just in his development to become an auror, and he was looking concerned.
“Madame President, I apologize for this disturbance. But I have a message from Mr. Graves.”
“It's all right. What is it about?” you replied, finally sitting back in your chair, looking at the still nervous man in front of you.
“It's about the wizards and the No-Maj in the cells. Mr. Graves questioned them and saw Mrs. Goldstein and Mr. Scamander as a danger for the wizarding world. He made the decision to sentence them to death.”
Your heart stopped for a minute, your eyes growing big. But then, everything seemed to move faster and faster inside you, a fierce piercing rage bubbling inside you, mixed with concern.
Concern about Tina, one of the best former Aurors you had, and of course the man, who left you with your thousand thoughts of him.
Newt Scamander.
And you knew what you needed to do.
Like Queenie Goldstein and Jacob Kowalski new what they had to do.
Hearing the thoughts of her sister and the strange man, Queenie immediately needed to take action. She just got the case out of the office of Graves, with the help of Jacob, the No-Maj she became so found of.
Every nerve in their body's tingled as an alarm got off in the distance, causing many wizards to run around them, some into the opposite directions. They didn't know what happened, but they had no time to really care about it.
Just as they turned a corner, they saw strands of (h/c) in the distance and Queenie stopped. Jacob nearly bummed into her, making a surprised sound.
“What's wrong?” he asked at first, but followed her for him beautiful eyes towards a woman, making her way to them. And he recognised her. “Oh no.”
“Mrs. Goldstein?” you asked her and she held the case behind her, blocking your sight of it.
“Yes, Madame President?”
Eyeing her suspiciously, you immediately knew what she was up to. With the sight of the No-Maj behind her, trying to look into another direction and hiding behind her, with the case in both of her hands.
You knew about Queenie's ability to read minds, about the alarm that went off and the execution of her sister and Newt. It was easy to place everything together and your analysing look on her softened a bit.
The blond woman on the other hand panicked, even reaching out for her wand to use it and forgetting her ability to read minds. She couldn't let them do what they wanted to, she couldn't let Tina or Newt die. And she was ready to fight for them.
Jacob, on the other hand, watched her with a concerned look on his face. Until he gathered his courage, touching her wrist as her eyes shot to him. And with just one look into his eyes and the faintest shake of his head, she relaxed a bit, letting go of her wand.
“I can assume where you are planning to go, Mrs. Goldstein. Especially with that No-Maj behind you.”
Her gaze flickered to you again, smiling nervously. She didn't have an excuse for this and even with one … You could see right through her. Like she did with the thoughts of everyone.
You took some steps towards her, Queenie standing her ground under your fixated gaze on her.
“And I want to help you.”
Both looking perplex, they stared at you, clearly shocked at your words. A grin spread on your lips, amused at their reaction, until you remembered what you three needed to do.
“We need to hurry. It could already be too late ...”
That seemed to get them into the reality again. Nodding, now motivated and feeling somehow safer than before with the President of Macusa on her side, all of you hurried to the lower floor, hurrying towards the cells.
You a bit ahead of them, hoping that It wasn't too late.
“Madame President-”
“I think (y/n) is more appropriate in this situation” you answered, smiling at her just slightly and she returned it sweetly. “I'm not the President of Macusa in this situation, not any more.”
“Well then … (y/n)? Why do you help us?”
“Yes”, Jacob stormed in, “I thought you needed to arrest us. I mean – because of all this mess with Newt's beasts. And you seem to be – pardon me – in a quite strong position.”
Nodding at him and their question, you needed to gather your thoughts first, smiling a bit at them.
“Well … Like Mrs. Goldstein said, she brought Mr. Scamander into my office yesterday. But in the case she showed to me were no beasts. Strangely, there seemed to be baked sweets inside. I must say, they looked rather delicious, but I of course couldn't believe her.”
Jacob seemed to blush at the last sentence and you wondered why. But you didn't ask why. That would have been quite strange.
“But on the street, when the stars shined at the sky … I saw him hunt his niffler with you, Mr. Kowalski. And he showed his beasts to me. No, not beasts … His friends. And I could see that neither he nor them wanted to do us any harm. Of course, I needed to act like my position before, but I never wanted an execution to take place.”
Both of them looked at you with understanding eyes, nodding to themselves while you sighed. Queenie had a knowing smile on her lips, reading your thoughts and therefore knowing about the feeling inside of you. As for you, concern was bubbling inside your stomach and your steps seemed to get faster and faster ...
Until you bummed into someone, nearly falling to the ground.
Your hand shot to your wand, reflex taking over you, until you somehow recognized the smell of the man that prevented your harsh collision with the ground by holding you close to him.
Newt.
The name caused a storm to swirl inside of you for anew, making you numb but so much more sensitive at the same time. Your eyes connected, his beautiful green and your (e/c) ones, in a dance only you both seemed to witness.
The heart inside both of your chests seemed to explode and for a split second you thought that he would be mad at you. For sending him to the cells, for not covering you. But the glimmer in his eyes, the little smile on his lips and his hands at your lover back, radiating warmth, seemed to relax you...
“Darlings, I know … But we need to keep going” said Queenie, sending both of you out of your trance. A blush rouse on your and Newt's face, letting instantly go from each other.
Queenie and Jacob needed to chuckle, but Tina seemed to look a bit confused.
“Madame President, what are you doing down here?” she asked, looking at you.
“I've got a message about the death sentence” were your words, your face growing serious and rage growing inside of you. “I can't believe Graves just decided on his own about something as serious as this. And I want to help you.”
Looking up at you, Newt couldn't help but smile at your determined eyes, feeling proud and happy. At first, he needed to admit, Newt really did feel disappointed at you. The red haired man understood of course, but his beasts were more important for him in that moment … And now, here you were. Standing right in front of him, glowing in a pale light like the sun and the wonderful creature.
Catching his gaze you smiled at him, wanting to say something more, until you heard running and voices in the distance. Hastily turning around, you instantly shoved Queenie and Jacob towards Newt and Tina.
“I can buy everyone of you some time … But you need to hurry. I can keep them away for a short time. You need to get along alone after that. There will be chaos. Use that for your advantage.”
“But, Madame (y/l/n)-” Newt began, but you stopped him.
“Call me (y/n) … Newt.”
Even the bare name from him rolling off your tongue made his heart stop for a second, your eyes meeting again, until more voices cut the air around you.
“Now, go!” was all you said. Tina took a hold of Newts hand, dragging him and the other two away from the scene.
“Madame President!”
Turning towards the Aurors approaching you, the serious look returned to your face. You needed to buy them some time. And you knew how. Keeping the Aurors away from them for even a short moment would be difficult and they needed to have extreme luck getting out of this mess.
But you trusted them.
And that was what kept you going with it. Even when everything was a mess and you needed to regain a somewhat organized day, it was worth it.
#newt scamander x reader#newt scamander#newt scamander images#fbawtft#Harry Potter#fantastic beats and where to find them
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I just ran into Lieutenant Columbo once again. This time it’s an accidental murder by one of the all-time great villains in Columbo history.
Robert Culp makes his first Columbo appearance out of four in Death Lends a Hand directed by Bernard Kowalski. The others are: The Most Crucial Game (1972), Double Exposure (1973), and Columbo Goes to College (1990). Although he plays a man with a vicious temper, Death Lends a Hand offers a somewhat more innocent murderer, if there is such a thing, because he murders by accident. That doesn’t mean, however, that this guy is likable.
When our story begins we see Investigator Brimmer meeting with one of his clients, wealthy publisher Arthur Kennicutt (Ray Milland). Kennicutt had hired Brimmer to find out if his much younger wife, Lenore (Pat Crowley), was cheating on him. Brimmer reports that Lenore has been faithful and Kennicutt leaves a happy man. Unfortunately, Brimmer lied, not because he wants to spare feelings, but because he can use Lenore’s indiscretions to blackmail her.
As soon as Mr. Kennicutt leaves the investigator’s office we find out that Mrs. Kennicutt is in an office nearby listening in on the conversation. Brimmer takes the opportunity as a “see what I just did for you” and drops the bombshell – he will not share the photos of her affair if she shares secrets of her husband’s business partners. Clearly, Brimmer’s hobby is blackmailing people, which is how Brimmer Industries can survive fancy digs. Naturally, Lenore is shook, but after giving the matter some thought she surprises Brimmer at his beach house that night to let him know that she plans to tell her husband the truth about her affair and about his proposal. The hot-tempered Brimmer strikes a massive blow to Lenore’s face, which results in her death.
Mrs. Kennicutt surprises Brimmer
Brimmer, whose first name is never mentioned, may have killed Lenore Kennicutt by accident, but it takes him absolutely no time at all to decide how to discard of her body and make the whole thing look like a mugging. It’s a terrific sequence, by the way, as we are made privy to the clean-up and dumping through reflections on his glasses. Kudos must be given to cinematographer Russell Metty who photographed a slew of enduring classics including Spartacus (1960) (for which he won the Oscar), Touch of Evil (1958), and Bringing Up Baby (1938). His memorable photography is among the best reasons to watch Death Lends a Hand.
Anyway, now that the gutsy Lenore is dead, Brimmer loads her body in his car, removes her person and purse of all valuables, and dumps her corpse in a construction site. This guy is sure of himself. I mean, why not? He’s an ex-cop with lots of shady investigator knowledge under his belt. What he doesn’t count on was Lieutenant Columbo. The Lt. makes his appearance here while driving his dilapidated, blue Peugeot, which makes its debuts in this episode of the series as the Lt. is pulled over for a faulty headlight. The classic car was chosen by Peter Falk himself and fits Columbo to a tee.
Columbo’s car is introduced in this episode when the Lt. is pulled over
Lieutenant Columbo is called in to investigate the body found at the construction site the morning after the murder. He arrives as rumpled and seemingly fumbling as usual as he goes around asking for a light. However, that’s just a ruse as he notices something odd with the body immediately, something not mentioned by the coroner. We later find out that what he notices is that the victim had been hit hard on the left side of her face by someone wearing a ring. And now the fun begins.
Columbo goes to speak with Mr. Kennicutt at his home and lo and behold, there is Brimmer willing to assist. Before long the investigator has been assigned the case of Mrs. Kennicutt as a back-up to the police investigation. What better way is there to stay up-to-date with the news? During this first meeting, however, the Lt. confesses to being a fan of astrology and palm reading, which is news to me, taking a look at the palms of both men thereby establishing Brimmer as a suspect. We don’t know it yet, but Columbo zeroes in on his man at that very moment and plays him like a fiddle for the rest of the story.
Lieutenant Columbo is called in to investigate the body found at the construction site the morning after the murder. He arrives as rumpled and seemingly fumbling as usual as he goes around asking for a light. However, that’s just a ruse as he notices something odd with the body immediately, something not mentioned by the coroner. We later find out that what he notices is that the victim had been hit hard on the left side of her face by someone wearing a ring. And now the fun begins.
Columbo goes to speak with Mr. Kennicutt at his home and lo and behold, there is Brimmer willing to assist. Before long the investigator has been assigned the case of Mrs. Kennicutt as a back-up to the police investigation. What better way is there to stay up-to-date with the news? During this first meeting, however, the Lt. confesses to being a fan of astrology and palm reading, which is news to me, taking a look at the palms of both men thereby establishing Brimmer as a suspect. We don’t know it yet, but Columbo zeroes in on his man at that very moment and plays him like a fiddle for the rest of the story.
Needless to say Robert Culp is terrific as the murderer in Death Lends a Hand if perhaps less menacing than his subsequent appearances in the series. Like most Columbo murderers Brimmer tries his best to get as close to the investigation as possible, which always ends up being the undoing. In this case Brimmer goes so far as to offer Columbo a job in his agency in order to get the Lt. off the Kennicutt case. Columbo sees through the ruse, just as he discounts the tennis instructor who had the affair with Lenore immediately. He knows who the murderer is and wastes no time with anyone else. In fact, Brimmer’s attempts to “fool” the Lieutenant only serve to strengthen the case against him and Columbo ends up baiting the ill-tempered man at every opportunity. The best example of this is when Columbo makes up a story about Lenore having lost a contact lens at the murder scene. The Lt. has the body exhumed, which results in a confirmation that both contacts were intact. Yet, he makes sure to tell Kennicutt a contact is missing in front of Brimmer, which prompts the GOTCHA! as he is caught rummaging through his trunk to find it before Columbo does. I like the cat-and-mouse of Death Lends a Hand better than the GOTCHA! but it’s enjoyable to watch nonetheless. Brimmer is quite meek as he is caught red-handed searching for, and finding, a contact lens that has nothing to do with Mrs. Kennicutt. That contact lens is proof enough though and Brimmer argues not, but quietly apologizes to Mr. Kennicutt before he is taken away.
One more thing…although the murderer kills by accident in this episode, it is one of the most violent acts committed in any Columbo story. This one is personal with Brimmer losing his cool in memorable fashion. Mrs. Kennicutt surprises Brimmer at his beach house to tell him she is not falling for his blackmail. She is determined to tell her husband everything. As she goes to leave Brimmer violently pushes her back into the room hitting her violently with closed fist across the left side of her face. Lenore falls backwards onto a glass table and dies instantly. The violence here is depicted with a Hitchcock-style pov shot as if we, the audience, is being punched by this guy. It’s a memorable scene for its crossing of that line.
On other matters – it’s terrific to see Ray Milland in this episode. His character is a sympathetic one in contrast to the murderer he plays in The Greenhouse Jungle the following year. I also enjoy Pat Crowley immensely. Ms. Crowley was in what seems every conceivable classic TV show from the 1960s forward. Further, as mentioned, the visuals in Death Lends a Hand are stunning from the very opening, which is a target at a firing range with loud shots being fired into it. Culp’s walk away from the firing range depicts the arrogance that made him such a treat to watch as a villain and with a vérité camera the menace is present from the get-go. There’s a lot of humor here too thanks to brilliance of Peter Falk. Death Lends a Hand was the first regular episode of Columbo filmed although it aired after Murder By the Book and it is one of those staples that would make anyone a fan of Columbo.
The great Ray Milland plays the victim’s husband
Peter Falk is brilliant as always
Columbo: Death Lends a Hand I just ran into Lieutenant Columbo once again. This time it's an accidental murder by one of the all-time great villains in…
#Columbo#Columbo: Death Lends a Hand#Death Lends a Hand#Pat Crowley#Peter Falk#Ray Milland#Robert Culp
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Florida Kilos ≽ V.
Reader x Bangtan- Drug Cartel
Word Count- 8,800
Warnings- drugs, guns, blood, prostitution, violence, abuse, sexual content, betrayal, character deaths, ect.
≽ Links to previous chapters can be found on my masterlist in my bio because Tumblr sucks now! You can also click on the ‘Florida Kilos’ tag!
From the time that I was a little girl, growing up in poverty, I decided that my adulthood would be different. At a young age, I was more sure of myself than most of the people around me. As a result, I made my way down to Florida where I began to both make and deal cocaine- alongside the man of my life. We shared our dreams, our bodies, our business. I was in a drug cartel with responsibilities and a lot of talent. I made dangerous partnerships, million dollar deals, and a lot of money; that is where this story continues.
"Let’s wait.”
The serene look that the promise gave him abruptly dissolved from my sight. His face returned to the scowl that started to become second nature to him. He scoffed, his lips turning into a fake smile, rolling his eyes coldly.
“Wait? For what exactly?” It was like I had profoundly insulted him. His hand threatens to leave mine but I continue to hold on.
“We came here to do a job,” I explained quietly. Advancing toward him, closing the distance between us and having him near. I stretched up to stroke his cheek, “I want to get married in Florida- that’s where we belong.”
Yoongi intensely watched me. As if his eyes were striving to find a conviction in mine. But after a time he gave in with a simple exhalation. He cupped my hand that grazed the hollows of his cheeks. “I guess... whatever you want then.”
A delicate grin settled on my lips, considering the warmth of his touch and drawing him in closer. Our mouths meeting halfway, his tongue dropped over my bottom lip, breathing in deeply as his hand hooked around the spine of my neck. He rolled his mouth forcibly onto mine, causing me to lean back into his grip. I panted as he pulled away and roughly sucked on the supple surface of my neck.
“Yoongi…” I groaned.
“Oh! Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Hoseok suddenly announced as he came through the door unexpectedly.
“Damn it, Hoseok!” Yoongi’s curse bounced off the metal walls. His palm moved to my shoulder, forcing me to step behind him as he walked forward to shield my half-naked body. “Learn to fucking knock.”
“I did!” He objected.
I chuckled as he turned around to face the door and I assume the blood was flushing to his face in embarrassment.
“It’s alright Hobi,” I assured him and Yoongi before reaching for the robe that was hanging off the edge of my suitcase. Slipping the silk material over my shoulders, it's cold touch trailing goosebumps up my arms before tying it tightly around my waist. “What did you need?”
I moved out of Yoongi’s shadow to spot Hoseok still set with his back to me. Yoongi stepping back to take a sit on the corner of the bed while he began to speak.
“Just two things, (Y/n).” He replied rather stiffly. “Well first is that we gathered all the names to the organizations you wanted. There are only four that we need to take care of.”
“That sounds great- you can turn around now, by the way,” I answered looking under the bed for a pair of slippers to put on. “And the second?”
“The second is that I had an idea of how we could make them disappear.” He peered over his shoulder before he turned himself around to face me. “If you like it then maybe you can give me the green light. All it would take is a couple of chainsaws and a lot of -”
Hoseok was abruptly interrupted by the noise of shouting arising from downstairs. The voice bitter and clear as day.
“Are you sure?! Okay- okay. I got it!”
Yoongi and I followed Hobi out of the room, out into the staircase we looked below to Jimin. He stood by one of the white tables, with kilos accumulated upon it, his phone was pressed against his ear and he wore a lost expression.
“Jimin, what’s going on?” As I made my way down the stairs, Jimin hung up the phone and slammed it down onto the table.
Jimin damned under his sigh and gazed in my direction as the boys followed closely after me. He sighed again,
“Bad news.”
“That's not something I really want to hear right now, Jimin,” I told him, reaching my spot close enough to him. He was making little eye contact, his gaze meeting the floor. “Who was it?”
“A friend- an informant of mine. He called to tell me that...two of our main dealers have disappeared.” The atmosphere in the room thickened with silence.
“People don’t just disappear,” I stated the obvious. Running my hand over my forehead but I let Jimin proceed.
“They were probably taken for information.” He muttered, leaning back against the table with one arm to support himself.
“The question is- by who?” Yoongi mumbled. That was the problem.
I stepped to the side of them, pacing the floor as Jungkook appeared coming from the stairs. I thought to myself as Hoseok filled him in on the disturbing news we had gotten.
“Who do you think did it, boss?” Jungkook said but I simply shook my head. Of course, I had ideas but theories were all they are.
“It could have been the police, after what happened, they definitely have been sticking their noses in,” Hoseok replied, taking a seat on a nearby chair.
“It could also be Alessandro- his men could have been asking around and people are so afraid they could talk,” Jimin added, running his hand through his hair impatiently. “I’m positive about one thing though,- that they're being tortured to get information out of them.”
“How many of our people do we have on the streets?” I asked so that I could begin to calculate the odds that seemed to be turning against us.
“More than twenty, (Y/n) but…” Jimin could barely look up and it took him a moment to speak clearly. “those two moved a lot of product."
It was apparent that Jimin had established a trustworthy connection with the two dealers. He felt responsible and therefore felt guilty. As much as I would have liked to assure him otherwise, I needed to know all the risks we ran before anything else.
“Of those twenty, how many did you meet with face to face?” In other words- how many of them could rat him out.
“Just those two, they were in charge of distributing the coke to the others.” That didn't make this situation any better.
“What are you thinking of doing, (Y/n)?” Yoongi called out to me while I continued to pace the floor. Everyone but Jimin looked in my direction. “What Jimin said is serious.”
I could feel my scalp throbbing as so many different scenarios came rippling through my head. This wasn’t like the women in Miami, we didn’t have the Kim brothers to connections with the law. The truth of the matter was that there was literally nothing that we could do for them. Nothing that I could do.
“Focus on taking out those other organizations- anyone of them could be behind this.” I paused where I stood. “And if it is the police who has them, we’ll have to show them who they are messing with.”
“What about the Italian?” Jungkook asked.
“I already said that I would take care of him,” I stated, stepping back under the fluorescent lights where they were all stood. “I wanted to take my time with his death but- I will have to speed things up in light of what we know now.”
“When do you want us to start dropping bodies?” Hobi asked standing from his seat.
“Tomorrow- I want them one after another without any mistakes.” They all nodded, except for Jimin, who was still noiseless. “Two days is all you four should need.”
-
The next two days were chaos. On every news channel, every newspaper print, the only words that the wind carried; were how the bodies of New York’s drug leaders were falling. The first to sink was Horacio Zhang; a 42-year-old Chinese man who ran large amounts of cocaine from his territory of Chinatown to the northern parts of Brooklyn. He was found by two of his mistresses in the back room of his restaurant; three bullet wounds in his chest and spread across the floor, covered in Suga cocaine. That same day, only hours apart, the body of Abel Kowalski and two of his gunmen were found in his home in Queens. All killed with bullets in their head execution style and coke spread across the table where they had been drinking. The next day in The Bronx, Calvin Banks was shot dead through the window of his club before opening hours. 'Suga' written in white spray paint on the side of his building. Then late that evening Jake ‘four fingers’ Koch from Staten Island. His throat was slit and his gunmen were shot down in the top floor of his gambling lounge. Two days was all I gave them and they did not let me down. Two days to struck fear in the security of Alessandro Botticelli. So that he would know that I was keeping him for last and he would never see it coming.
-
“You don’t have to do this,” Yoongi continued with the same words for days. I was disregarding him at this point and concentrated on finding my heels. “Let me go with you.”
“I don’t trust- your jealousy is unruly Yoongi.” He groaned, swiftly moving to kick down a chair out of pure bitterness.
“Can you really blame her?” Hoseok chortled off in the corner. He didn't even bother looking our way and proceeded to load the guns with ammunition. Yoongi hardly giving him a sharp eye as Jungkook came trotting down the stairs.
“I found them!” He announced coming down with the red dagger pumps I had been hunting. He offered his assistance to me in order to get the heels on and deal with Yoongi’s fit.
“I don’t see why you picked Jimin to go with you,” Yoongi murmured under his breathing.
“I didn’t,” I said holding on to Jungkook shoulders as I shoved my foot into the shoe. “I told you already, it was Taehyung’s call.”
Even if Taehyung hadn’t ordered Jimin to be the one to come with me for the job, I still wouldn’t have taken Yoongi. His hatred for Alessandro was reaching a boiling point. I knew the big amount of his rage was projecting from his withdrawals after being clean for the past three days. I could recognize it in the cold sweats he would get the little that he was sleeping. It was the price he had to pay and I had to put up with.
“Where is Jimin anyway?” I asked, noticing it was getting rather late.
“He went upstairs to answer a phone call,” Hobi responded, closing the last of the chambers to the handguns.
I looked up the stairs case, looking past the railings, where the door to his room was shut. He only ever locked himself in his room when he was on the phone with Taehyung. I hoped he wouldn’t come out with more orders. From what Jimin had told me, it sounded like Taehyung had been rediscovering an interest in running his own business. He was ambitious and full of ideas however that began to worry me.
“There is something I want to talk to you all about,” Right now that Jimin wasn’t around. I settled into my second heel and standing upright. “An idea that I’ve had been creating.”
“Another idea?” Yoongi might as well have cut his eyes with that tone. Hobi, on the other hand, was drawn and settled the gun down on the table before walking toward the rest of us without a single sound.
“A new way of exporting cocaine,” I began, tapping Kookie's shoulder to join the others in front of me.
“Don’t you mean importing- as in bringing the paste from Cuba?” He suggested as he walked beside Yoongi and resting his hip against the table.
“No. I’m talking a way to get our merchandise out of the country- to sell it on a whole new continent.”
“What are you talking about (Y/n)?” Yoongi declared, his voice dropping to a new level of trouble. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing and locking on me. “Taehyung has never said anything about dealing overseas.”
“Taehyung- is convinced that he can own the whole entire country,” I spoke hushed, motioning Yoongi to do the same. “But there is no way he can move the product west and take over Mexican cartel territory- it would be suicide.”
“So what are you saying? That we should fuck him over?” Yoongi spoke defensively. As if I hadn’t been the one who was running the entire show. As if Taehyung was his dearest of friends. If he only knew.
“Of course not- as long as I stay by his side through his decisions I will try to steer him in the right direction.” None of them knew of the complications that I was facing with Taehyung after he confronted me the day of Jungkook’s birthday. My fear was that Taehyung would stop listening to me over our argument.
“But if something were to happen to me- where I can’t advise him otherwise; I want you guys to know how to cross the product overseas. Whether that means one of you convince Taehyung yourself or you have a way to start dealing cocaine out of the country without him.”
“What do you mean if something were to happen to you? That is why we are here- we look after you.” Jungkook opposed, while Yoongi and Hoseok fell silent.
“Jungkook,” I sighed. “Not everything goes as intended- It is just a precaution. It will ease my mind knowing that we have a backup plan just in case.”
I didn’t have enough time to go into full detail of my design. I told them where they would start and how difficult it will be to begin again. Though, I knew they were smart enough to figure it out without my every instruction. They maintained quiet throughout my plan, listening closely to the brief summary I managed to give them.
“Not until the day comes that he wants to keep expanding and he comes to choice, will we know what to do next. I refuse to let any of you get hurt for a hopeless dream.” The sound of Jimin’s door creaked open. “You cannot say a word about this to Jimin, much less Taehyung.”
We all looked up, seeing Jimin walk out of his bedroom, still scrolling through his phone. He stashed the device in his pocket and look to where we stood downstairs.
“What are you guys talking about?” He questioned after seeing us all huddled together. Everyone’s expressions turned into stone.
“We were waiting for you,” I said walking over to Yoongi and wrapping my arm around his torso. “Yoongi and I wanted to share some exciting news.”
I smiled up at him, gesturing my head for him to speak up. He hesitated for a second, double taking in my direction while he tried to figure out what I was talking about. His face lit up and he cleared his throat before speaking,
“Right- we’re getting married.”
“What?” They all responded in unison. Though with completely different reactions.
Hoseok jumped over the table and wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s shoulder. His screams of delighted filled his ears and echoed throughout the warehouse. “This is great!”
“When did this happen?” Jungkook asked staring confused.
“Aren’t you happy for us, Kookie?” I grinned and pulled him into a hug but his arm. He took a second to react and hesitated to wrap his arms around me.
“Well, yeah… if this is what you want.” He muttered barely loud enough for me to hear, his arms hugging me tightly. “Congrats.”
“It’s a weird time to get engaged but great nevertheless!” Hobi continued, bouncing from Yoongi over to me and pulling me up in the air. He spoke over my eruption of giggling, “Yoongi needs to settle down.”
He placed a kiss on my cheek but my laughing came to a halt as I saw Jungkook step silently toward Yoongi. Hobi placing me on the ground as we watched them stare at each other. For a second there was nothing but silence, but then Jungkook sighed and reached his hand out to him.
“Congratulations.” He said calmly. Yoongi not hesitating to except his gesture and we watched them shake hands.
It brought the most genuine smile to my face. Being in the company of the people who have become my family and sharing news that brought us closer together was a feeling that I would not take for granted.
“Well congratulations to you both,” Jimin said a bit carelessly as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “But maybe we should celebrate after we take care of Alessandro."
“You’re right,” I said stepping from Hobi’s arms. “Are you ready?”
Jimin nodded his head as he pulled his phone from his pocket as a notification ringed. “My informer just texted me- Alessandro just arrived at the bar.”
“Then I guess it’s time.” I looked over to Yoongi pushed some of his hair out of his eyes.
He walked over to grab my coat that I had left hanging on one of the nearby chairs. I fixed the hem of my red shift dress. Yoongi came over as he held the coat open for me to slip into. It was longer than my dress and the black faux far would protect me from the New York breeze.
Jimin walked over to the table were the guns rested, ranked from largest to smallest. Picking out his choice of guns to bring with him. Hobi himself reached for the one he had prepared just for me.
“This should fit in your pocket.” He assured me. An automatic Glock 17. I took the heavy metal into my hand, unlocking the chamber to check how many rounds I had. “You’ll need this too.”
He handed me a black rod silencer from his other hand. I took it and twisted onto the barrel of my gun. Perfect fit. I thanked Hoseok and smiled at him.
“Fuck. I feel like I’m in the Godfather.” Jungkook said taking a seat on one of the chairs. I laughed and walked over to him. “Is the Godfather even a godfather?”
“No. It’s just a term of endearment.” I ran my hand through his hair, it was as soft as always. “A godparent is someone you respect- someone you can look up to.”
He nodded his head slowly, looking up at me and taking my hand in his own.
“Someone like you…” He pressed a kiss onto the back of my hand. “Be careful, Godmother.”
“I will.” I simply laughed and shoved his shoulder.
“I’ll get the car,” Jimin announced.
As he walked off into the far part of the warehouse I returned to Yoongi’s side. Where he stood with a worried face.
“We could be in the lobby of the hotel, in case you need us for back up it wouldn’t-” I wrapped my hands around his shoulder.
“I just need you three to stay here and not leave for any reason. Alessandro’s men will be hunting us after we escape.” He held onto my waist, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “Hey- I can do this.”
“Just come back alive.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek before I let him go.
“I intend to.”
Yoongi walked me to the front door of the warehouse where Jimin was waiting with his car. He looked up from his phone and waited for me by the passenger door. I thanked him as he opened the door for me, closing it gently once I was settled in.
“Jimin...” Yoongi said before he could go to walk around the other side. “If she isn’t out of that hotel room in one hour, go in there and shoot everything that moves. I need you to bring her back alive.”
“You aren’t the only one- I’ll make sure of it.”
-
The car ride was silent, mildly uncomfortable even. I don’t know what was on Jimin’s mind but I knew what was on mine. Yoongi...Jungkook and Hoseok. Everything I had told them and if they would need to use it. I was sure of my plan but I had a bad feeling that burned in the back of my head. I didn't know how to shake the feeling.
“There is still a chance to change your mind.” Jimin suddenly said, breaking through the silence as he pulled up to a red light. “I can call them and they can come with us in the other car-”
“No, we’re sticking to the plan,” I assured him and secretly myself. I turned to look at him but he looked away when I did. His dirty blond hair was parted to the sides and he wore a white long sleeve. “What did you mean… when you told Yoongi he wasn’t the only one?”
“You caught that, huh?” He stiffened, inhaling deeply and letting out a small laugh. “Of course you did.”
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” I tilted my head at him. The light turned green and he began to drive once again.
“I don’t… trust you.” He said hesitantly licking his full lips.
“Have I given you any reason not too?” I questioned. Watching his body language carefully.
“No,” He glanced my way. “Not yet at least- but that’s because everything has gone your way so far.”
“So you think I’ll betray you once something doesn’t go my way?” I asked lowering the window of the car, pulling out a cigarette from the carton in my handbag.
“Don’t smoke in my car.” He said making me stop my actions abruptly. I looked at him to find him with smirked to my surprise. Not getting my way, huh? “Betray me? No. Taehyung is who I think you’ll betray.”
Put back the single cigarette in its box, and then in my handbag as he continued to talk. “I know how smart you are and I also know how...naive Taehyung can be.”
“I’m more worried about him betraying me- after what happened.” He laughed again, this time a more humorous laugh than anything else. “How don’t I know that the reason Taehyung made me bring you along, wasn’t because he wanted you to kill me?”
“Because, like I said, you’re smart. Taehyung is completely and utterly infatuated with you, you know that.” He almost spat the words at me. Annoyed. “He sent me because he knows I’m the best skilled out of everyone else. He sent me to bring you back alive- that’s...what I meant.”
“But why do I hear the jealousy in your voice?” I’ve never really seen Jimin upset or angry, he was always the calmest of everyone. I must really hit a nerve. “Do you have a thing for Taehyung or something? Is that it?”
“What? No!” He argued defensively. “I just don’t understand why everyone has to fall for you... Taehyung, Yoongi, Jungkook- Alessandro, that poor bastard.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep my composure from such an insulting remark. The car fell silent again as I stared out the window and this time I relished in silence after simply stating,
“Men want what they can’t have.”
-
Only when Jimin pulled up the end of the block, like the time before, is when I spoke to him once again.
“The plan continues exactly as we planned. You’ll go to the hotel first and I’ll go into the bar 15 minutes after you.” Jimin set the car in park and nodded his head slowly. “Once you’ve gotten everything ready, standby and wait for the signal.”
“Just one thing?” He says and I stare. “Don’t play with your victim, as soon as you get the chance- kill him.”
“I’ll see how it goes.” I shrugged. He sighed, without any final words, he moved forward to exit the car.
“Wait,”
“I haven’t forgotten…about the two dealers that got taken, ” He closed the door as soon as I spoke, he was looking back at me with much softer eyes. “If Alessandro knows where they are- I’ll get them back.”
He simply nodded his head in understanding, then may his way back to exiting the car. I watched as he walked toward the hotel, his figure becoming smaller by the second. Then he disappeared and I began to count the 15 minutes before I would go in. Before I would be met, face to face, with Alessandro Botticelli once again.
-
I stood in front of the same wooden doors that lead to the downstairs bar. It felt like it had been an eternity since I was last here. Though it had only been three days. The place was surrounded by Italian gunmen, no doubt a result of the other cocaine dealers dropping like flies. I went to open the door but was met by a locked handle.
I peered inside through the cross windows the doors allowed, mostly empty from the little that I could see. A man soon came in my line of sight, Vincent Romano, to be exact. Alessandro’s most dangerous gunman.
He recognized me right away and unlocked the door.
“Well look who it is…” His eyes scanned me from head to toe as he allowed me to step in. “We were sure that you were a ghost- the way that you vanished into the streets… without a trace.”
Another man came up behind him, from the deeper right side of the bar, where Alessandro must be. He landed on his shoulder to whisper something inaudible to me. Vincent shook his head and answered him in Italian. With his order, the man walked back to where I could not see him.
“We looked for you all over New York- Mr. Botticelli’s orders, of course.” He smirked, possibly trying to make conversation with me. Though, it didn’t take long for the other man to come back. He nodded his head at Vincent and he looked back at me. “He’s been waiting for you.”
I followed behind him into the back of the bar. Where the room was darker as there were almost no windows. The room glowing under candlelight.Where Alessandro was revealed to be seated at a table and eight other gunmen in nearby ones. The moment his eyes landed on me, he rose from his table, watching me as I walked in.
“Brava- Bravissima!” He yelled out as he slowly clapped his hands and made his way around the table. I smiled as he came to greet me in front of the table, he took both of my hands in his and leaned in to kiss them. “How are you doing, bella?”
“I knew that we would meet again.” He grinned and pulled out the chair for me. He leads me to take a seat and pushing it closer to the table as I did.
“Destiny, perhaps,” I smirked and he was in front of me in a matter of seconds. His full lips were parted into a full smile, one that almost made him look innocent. Wrinkles creased around the hazel eyes that stared intensely at me.
“Leave us.” He announced to his men. They exchanged glances at each other unsure but his voice turned cold quickly. “Out!”
The absence of his men brought ease to my body. I was a little less stiff and I could breathe better. He wore a wine button up shirt, with its sleeves rolled up and the same gold chain from before.
“Look,” He paired his clothing with black pants that he reached into the pocket of, pulling out a white silk fabric from it. “I have kept the memento of your lips for these past couples of days.”
“And I have kept the memory of your gaze.” I hummed as he held up the lipstick stained silk to prove to me. He leaned in, setting the cloth beside his drink.
“You won’t escape from me this time.” His eyes staring deeply at me as if I was an illusion he didn’t want to miss.
“Neither will you.”
“Does that mean…” He glances at the cloth under his elbow. “That tomorrow, I will wake up in the morning to something much more...concrete than this?”
I leaned in resting my chin on the palm of my hand.
“Of that, you can be sure of.” He reached over the small rounded table and touched the back of my hand. Close to grazing my cheek but I moved off my hand the moment his rough skin touched mine. “Can we go somewhere? Where we can be alone?”
“Of course we can.” He was quick to answer as if he had been waiting for me to ask him that. “How does my presidential suite sound?”
“Perfect.”
His men followed us out the door of the bar, all the way up the stairs, as we entered the main lobby of the hotel. His arm was wrapped around my waist as we walked, his much taller frame leading the way.
By this time Jimin should be getting into position and shouldn’t be in the main lobby but I casually scanned the floor of people just in case. There must have been some type of convention being held because the lobby was cluttered with people.
Alessandro spoke to his men in a combination of Italian and English. Repeating to each of them that for absolutely no reason should anyone come and bother him up in the room. My eyes finished scanning the lobby for any sign of trouble-and trouble I found.
Yoongi’s figure stood out to me, standing just a few feet away from us, next to a group of guests. Our eyes locked and it was like the entire room slowed down and became cold. His eyes darted behind, landing on Alessandro who was still talking to his men in the other direction but, who also, still had his arm around my waist and pulled in close to his side. I could see Yoongi’s face drowning in jealousy and rage. His body tightening and he reached into the inside of his blazer. Where he always kept his gun.
All I could do was lightly shake my head, trying to not make it obvious as I continued walking with Alessandro toward the elevators. I mouthed to him the word ‘no’ frantically trying to stop him from approaching us. Him, against twelve armed gunmen, was a chance he would gladly take. He took broad steps close but not close enough for anyone else to notice. My eyes on him were pleading as we entered the elevator. He stood behind and our eye contact broke through the closing doors.
“You have yet to tell me your name?”Alessandro chuckled above my ear causing me to shiver in disgust.
“It’s (Y/n)...” I try to say without showing the repulsion he brings me.
“As expected… così bella.”
The doors opened up to the very top floor of the hotel. A blue and white pattern displayed on the carpet leading us to Alessandro’s presidential suite at the very end of the hall. I stood by his side as he went to unlock the door with his card key. I looked around to see if any of his men had followed us up or were waiting for us. He pushed the door open and allowed me to step inside first.
“Ti piace? Do you like it?” I walked through the small hall that revealed a large living room and bar.
“I like it,” I said as we stepped into the dining area where stood a espresso wooden table under a white carpet. He pulled out a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket that laid on top of it, followed by two glasses. Two large naked windows framed either side of the wall. The heat from the sun had made the bucket of ice melt and condensate its exterior. “It’s the biggest room in the hotel, isn’t it?”
“Of course, a woman like you deserves the finest.” He hands me my glass and I thank him.
He pop opens the bottle, an icy smoke coming from it’s opening before Alessandro takes my glass and fills it. The glass sizzles to the top but soon dies down to reveal only half full. I strolled around the room as he filled his own glass up. I found my way to one of the windows where the view of New York was at its peak.
“The best view this hotel has to offer,” Alessandro notes following in behind me. “But nothing compared to your beauty, (Y/n).”
“Such a romantic.” I laugh setting my glass down the dining table. “Too bad all those bodyguards spoil the moment.”
“They’re necessary.” He insists. Alessandro sets down the whole bottle on the table and takes a drink from his glass.
“Are they? And why is that?” I question turning to look back outside. “To protect you from all the angry women whose hearts you’ve broken?”
“No, no.” He laughs with the glass still pressed to his lips, he takes another drink.
“What?” I smirk, stepping closer to him. “Are you telling me I’m the first woman you bring up here?”
“Absolutely!” He declares and I smile shaking my head.
“I’m not so naive, Alessandro.” I turn my back to him and walk forward. “Who are you trying to protect?”
“Let just say it’s a matter of business.” I reach into the pocket of my fur coat, gripping the gun in my hand.
“Who are you afraid of?” I slip it out.
“Nothing- no one.” With my back facing him he can’t see a thing. But then there was a knock at the door. “Ugh. Who is it?”
I slipped the gun back into my pocket and followed him back to the hallway. Alessandro looked through the peephole and opened the door. It was an employ from the hotel bringing room service on a cart.
“What’s all this?” I asked as Alessandro brings him to the dining table.
“I wanted us to have a nice romantic dinner, (Y/n).” He smiled. The employ setting up the table for us. It was two orders of stakes, pasta, and salads. I internally groan and want to roll my eyes.
“Do you mind if we order a bottle of wine?” I asked not wanting to keep Jimin waiting too long. Not with so many of Alessandro’s men roaming the hotel.
“You need to get a hold of one of the uniforms. Find a way to take over someone’s position so that you will end up at Alessandro’s room.” I told him. “By the time you get to the room Alessandro should be dead and you’ll be my way out.”
We took our seat and began to eat quietly. Though in the depths of my mind I was looking at my options- my chances of pulling this off and still being able to leave alive. Wondering if Jimin was even able to blend in as a member of the staff. No. I couldn’t doubt myself now. I couldn’t doubt Jimin.
“I want to make a confession to you, (Y/n),” Alessandro said breaking the silence. He wiped the corners of his mouth and adjusted the napkin back on his lap. “I do this because I don’t want this being the only night we spend together.”
I raised my eyebrow smirking as he grabbed his glass of champagne and brought it up to me. “I was taught as a child that a man mustn’t hide things from the woman he wishes to marry. Though, when it comes to business everything is different…”
“Oh?” I raise my own glass to meet his and tilt my head at him. “Go ahead, tell me.”
“I want you to know what it is that I do for a living,” No. He wouldn’t. “I’m a trafficker.”
Then again, maybe he would.
“W-what do you mean?” I set my glass down and pushed my hair away from my face. “Trafficker of what, exactly?”
“Narcotics- cocaine mostly.” Jimin was right. Alessandro you poor bastard. “I’m the largest distributor in New York. You know, this city has always had a vice abuse, first with alcohol, marijuana, and now coke is the best seller.”
“Wait-wait.” I shut my eyes, trying to hold a straight face, taking a deep breath. “You said that you were the largest distributor in the city. Does that mean there are others?”
“Yes, a few.” He grabs his drink once again.
“Well, I ask because in the movies dealers are always fighting for territory and money.” I reach across the table and take his hand. “Is anyone trying to hurt you? Are we in danger?”
“No, yes but no. You are safe here with me.” He set his glass down and placed his other hand above mine.
“Who?” I asked pulling my hand back and running it over my forehead. I took a deep, shaky breath as I leaned back against my chair.
“Someone who goes under the name ‘Suga’.”
“Suga?” I sit back up. “Just Suga?”
“That’s all we know so far but I’m sure that he’s a man not from New York. His product is from Cuba so he could very well be Cuban himself.” He put his hand on his chin, running it through the scruff of his beard.
“But if you don’t know anything else other than the name… why are you so sure it’s a man?” I ask.
“Easy. This is a man’s business.” He shrugged. “A woman simply wouldn’t have the cold heart to kill.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit of a sexist comment?” I had to look down, let my hair cover my face for a moment while the smile spread across my face. I hear him chuckle and I look back him to find him smiling. “Isn’t it? Women can be much more than just pretty faces. I’m sure we are capable of murder and even much more. Ruthlessness isn’t exclusive to only men.”
“Well, I see you know a thing or two about human nature.” Alessandro smiled leaning in on the table and watching me in awe. “To me, it sounds like the words of a woman who’s already committed murder.”
“What?” I scoff playfully. “How could you think such a thing.”
“I’ve been around murders all my life, (Y/n). I know how they act.” He laughed and I sigh theatrically.
“Well since you confessed something, maybe I should too?”
“What?” He raised his brow at me before reaching to pour himself another glass. “You did murder someone?”
“I could tell you about that or,” I take a drink of my own glass. “I can tell you something a little more interesting.”
“More interesting than murder? Go ahead.” I set my glass down and watched him continue to drink his sense away.
“I have a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend?” He laughed with eyes wide.
“A fiancé actually.”
“Not a big deal. We can get rid of him easily if he’s a problem.” I lowered my hand to the side of the seat, reaching for the pocket of my fur coat that hung around the chair.
“The thing is that we worked together.” My hand in the soft fur pocket, once again, gripping onto the cold metal. “I’m actually his boss.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the poor bastards name?” I laughed shaking my head.
“Yoongi…” I slide the gun out of the pocket and brought it to my lap. “but everyone knows him by a different name.”
“What is that?” He blinks.
“Suga.”
I pulled my gun out and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced through his right shoulder. Alessandro fell back in his seat, blood coming from the exit wound onto the white wall behind him.
He groans on the floor as I stood from the table. Still aiming my gun at him as he squirmed in pain. His left hand held his bleeding shoulder. He was breathing heavily with eyes wide and blood flushing his face.
“Accidenti!” He said with his heavy breathing. He looked up at me, his eyes blackening in rage and pain but a dark laugh echoed through the room. “I knew beautiful women would be the end of me...”
“But you never thought one of them would actually end you,” I said standing at his feet.
“I guess that seems like a pretty go way to go.” He breathed. I watched him scoot himself to the wall behind him where he sat up against the wall and tossed his head back. “So...you work for Suga? How theatrical.”
“Didn’t you hear me before?” He dropped his hand down to the belt of his pants, where his gun was tucked away. “Suga works for me.”
I pulled the trigger again, the silent bullet breaking through his wrist.
“Maledetta puttana! You’re a sadistic woman with a lot of nerve.” His face was becoming pale and his shoulder was still bleeding rapidly- I must have hit a major artery. “Why don’t you just kill me already? What are you waiting for!?”
“I’m waiting for my room service,” I said stepping over him and taking his gun from his belt.
Then gunshots fired from outside of the door. Alessandro began yelling out in Italian as I stepped back to find cover against the same wall he was leaning against. I pointed the gun downward and shot him in his outer thigh to get his attention back on me. Making it clear that no one was coming to save him.
“Two of my dealers went missing two days ago,” I said leaning down and grabbing him by the hair as he continued to groan and yell. “I know you're behind this. Where are they?”
My hand tangled in his thick curls forcing him to look up at me while I pointed the gun at his head. He scoffed and spit in my direction. The spit falling to the top of my heels.
I shoved his head free from my hold. Grabbing my gun by the silencer and swinging the handle across his face. He spits blood from his mouth, a gash opening and bleeding on his brow bone.
“Where are they!?” I repeat. He was losing blood so fast that he could barely maintain his head up. But I could see his lips turning into a smirk while the gunshots continued outside of the door.
“You’ll never make it out of here alive.” He said.
I felt the adrenaline in my body start to shake my arms and my mind was switching back and forth from Alessandro to the gunshots outside, to Jimin. My time was running out and I need to know what happened to those men. I put my gun down and lifted my foot, shoving the stiletto of my heel into the bullet hole in his thigh.
“Answer me!” I said forcing my heel down harder through his broken skin.
As he cried out the front door of the room opened loudly. The gunshots were still being exchanged with the door open. Was it Jimin? Was it the police?
“Signore?!” It was Vincent Romano.
I glanced down at Alessandro, his breathing was shallow and streams of blood had begun to collect under his hands. I reached down to find his pulse on his neck. It was so faint, he would be dead any minute. I had to try to escape, with or without Jimin.
I moved along the wall, closer to the opening to the next room where Vincent wouldl be coming from my left. Gunshots were still being fired outside of the door. I lined up at the edge of the wall, taking in a deep breath and holding my gun close, as I moved to peek around the corner.
The smell of bullets and blood lingered the cold air.
I looked into the dim lit hall slowly, Vincent Romano coming into my line of sight and I coming into his. With his gun pulled out, and no hesitation, he pulled his trigger. I try to move back as swiftly as I could but I felt the metal pierce my forearm.
I stumble back behind the wall, my head against it and a groan ripping out through my teeth. The pain shot up my arm, in a burning sensation, and tensed my muscles. Blood starting to pour down my arm, the warm liquid coloring all the way down to the tips of my fingers.
“Come out! You damn whore!”
I looked back down at the floor, where I had left Alessandro’s gun out of his reach. I picked it up and held it in my other hand. Glancing at his current state still on the floor beside me. He laid motionless, his once intimidating hazel eyes laid open soulless.
“There you are.”
I looked over my shoulder to see him now standing behind me. I let myself drop to the floor using Alessandro’s gun to shoot and aim at his chest. My motions caused me to miss the shot and he was able to move and hide behind the other wall.
I quickly stand on my feet and grabbed one of the wooden chairs from the dining table. I kicked it out into the hallway where he was, catching him off guard as he shot the falling chair. Giving me an opening shot.
I jump into his line of sight. Watching how his eyes darted from the chair to me. Then locking eyes with his boss's gun. The shot rings in my ears while his body jerked back. The blast had him against the wall. His hold on his gun is pressed against the wall and the other is clutching onto his bleeding ribs.
“(Y/n)!” I look behind me to see Jimin coming in through the door. He’s wearing the uniform of the hotel employees with his gun in his grasp. My mouth opened to speak but his eyes looked past me. “Get down!”
I do as he says. He brings his gun up and fires past me. My eyes searching for the bullets landing. Through the head of Vincent Romano. I watch him fall to the floor.
“We have to go!” Jimin instantly appeared at my side, wrapping his hand around my upper arm, pulling me on to my feet and dragging me out of the hotel room.
In the hallway, there were two Italian men shot dead beside each other. A room service cart was tipped over and full of gunshots. Laying beside it was the drapery that veiled carts- and beside it the bottle of wine I had ordered. I kept an eye down the hall as Jimin pushed the cart upright. Cloaking the drapery back over the top of it.
“Get under. Hurry!” He held up the cloth revealing the space open for me. I moved fast to get under the cart. I adjusted myself to a comfortable position on the cold metal of the bottom shelf, concealed by the blue fabric surrounding me. “Let’s get out of here.”
-
“You’re hurt,” Jimin said as the car stopped in front of the warehouse doors. Honking the horn so that the others could let us in.
I thoroughly observed Jimin and I could not find a single scratch on him. He had taken off the long sleeve of the hotel uniform, wearing nothing but a white tank top and dark blue slacks.
“It doesn’t hurt that much anymore.” That was a lie. I couldn’t even move my arm, blood was staining my skin and my dress.
Jimin honked again, this time causing me to jump, this time letting it bellow for a few seconds. He scoffed after getting no response, reaching for the handle of the car door. I watched him in the beams of the car lights, squatting down on his feet to push the doors over his head. The headlights pooled into the darkening warehouse but I could see the lights all the way in the back turned on. Jimin hopped back in the car,
“We have to get that bullet out of you.” He said driving us in.
We walked into the far back of the warehouse. The light of my room was on and soft talking could be heard from within. Jimin and I followed the noise.
“Didn't you hear us honking?” I said as I pushed the door open and was met by nothing.
The only voice that responded was the small TV that sat inside the wardrobe of Yoongi and I’s shared a room.
I turn to Jimin as a tainted feeling dropped in the pit of my stomach and was reflected in his face. He shook his head and he walked out of the room. Not wasting any time and kicking the doors to the other three rooms wide open. He called out their names. Jungkook. Hoseok. Yoongi.
Yoongi. Who I had last seen in the hotel lobby. How could have I forgotten? There was no one here besides us.
“Oh no…”
Jimin turned to ask me 'what'. But I could barely hear him. The pain in my arm was numbed by the heavy feeling in my stomach. I felt it pulling me down to the floor. My head feeling like it was detaching from my shoulders.
“Hey…(Y/n).” He came to my aid. His arm wrapped around my suddenly fragile frame as my legs were giving out. I held onto the door frame with my weak arm. “You've lost too much blood.”
He guided me to the bed behind us. Seating me at the edge before he squatted down to take a look at my arm.
“Yoongi was at the hotel,” I said scooping my hair out of my face. I flinched as his thumbs ran close to the bullet opening.
“What?” He paused.
“He was in the lobby when I was going up to Alessandro’s room.” He dropped my arm gently on the bed and stood back to his feet, looking down at me with puzzled eyes. “He wanted to come up to us but I stopped him. I didn't see where he went.”
“Did you see Jungkook? Or Hoseok with him?” I simply shook my head, carefully because it still felt light. “This doesn't make any sense.”
He stormed out of the room to walk into the bathroom. The bathroom is straight ahead of my room, I watched through the open doors as he frantically grabbed rags and the first aid box from underneath the sink.
But it made total sense. If Yoongi was there, Jungkook and Hobi would have surely followed him. Were they in the building when the gunshots when off? Did they make it out?
I pulled out my phone. Quickly and shakily looking for their names in my contacts. Putting the phone on speaker as Yoongi’s caller ID flashed on the screen. My head dropped as it went straight to voicemail. Maybe his phone is dead? I called Hoseok's, glancing at Jimin who was looking through the first aid box. It rang and rang but there was no answer and I was sent to voicemail again. This can't be happening. My chest was tightening as the stress and the fear tumbled inside me. Jungkook had to answer. He always answered my calls. And just as I was going to click on his name, there was a silence. Jimin had stopped scavenging around in the bathroom and I was holding my breath. The words playing off of the TV were becoming clear in my ears.
“We’re coming back to you live from lower Manhattan. With what started off as a bar altercation has turned into a police standoff. Now DEA officials have arrived at the scene, linking the suspect to the Madison Hotel. Where just an hour ago Alessandro Botticelli, Italian Mafia leader, and suspected drug lord, was killed along with three of his men.”
I called Jimin into the room. My eyes scanning the scenery behind the news reporter. Jimin coming to my side and following my gaze. There were police cars and officers blocking the entrance to an alleyway. Guns aiming far into the back where the sun was starting to set.
“The suspect has not yet been identified. He is reported to be armed and heavily intoxicated. We are getting news that two other male suspects have also been reported, apparently in an attempt to help the first suspect escape.”
Jimin and I watched in silence, mortified, as my phone rang.
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⋆ ◦ ° ☾ paul wesley + cismale + he/him — have you met Roman Kowalski? they are a thirty six year old known around town as the reticent. they’ve been in the gang life for eight years, and currently work for the gang as a arms dealer. they are a bisexual gemini, which means they are resilient + observant, as well as reticent + secretive. a trunk full of weapons, multiple passports with different names, worn leather boots. × kevin. twenty five. he/him. gmt. ×
it’s ya boy kevin, back at it again with another muse !! honestly i’m surprised i haven’t brought a paul wesley muse in sooner, but better late than never right? it’s past midnight so let me apologise in advance for this messy intro and its general sense of being all over the place.. i’ve had a hundred and one different ideas for roman in my head
CHARACTER INFORMATION
roman was twelve years old when his parents were gunned down right in front of him, leaving him an orphan and a bastard !! rather than being given to church or state, roman headed for a part of the city that had been dubbed THE BARREL. it was a cold, damp and ugly corner of the city for children who had no where else to go ( or somebody to hide from )
roman spent six years of his life living on the streets in the barrel, where he did unspeakable things in order to survive — he was a sad, scrawny, polish little thing when he first arrived. easy pickings for anybody, and that’s exactly what he was for the first year; an easy target. other wayward children stole his supplies he had scavenged, ate his food while he slept and kicked him until he stayed down when he tried to get up.
after that roman toughened himself up, he was going to die if he didn’t. he started breaking into what he thought was an abandoned boxing gym on the outskirts of the barrel, but he soon discovered it was owned by a local gang that was trafficking heroin, cocaine and other kind of narcotics through the gym ( turns out punching bags make a damn good hiding place for several kilos of cocaine )
the owner caught him one night, trying to steal his weapons && threatened to break his legs if he ever showed his face in his boxing gym again. roman laughed in the man’s face, he’d been stealing his product for months without him realising and only got caught now because he wanted to get caught.
roman was clever, meticulous and observant. every plan of his was planned out to the last minute detail, the wind didn’t change direction unless he wanted it to. so, what made this prick think he had caught the bastard of the barrel red handed? he explained to the man that the real reason roman was here that night was because he wanted his list of suppliers ( not for the narcotics, but for the weapons he was importing too )
a born survivor && a self made business man at barely nineteen years old, roman wanted to expand his distribution && stock on a larger scale to more than just street rats like him who wanted a gun for protection or a knife for payback. in a city as corrupt as this one was, trafficking weapons was a lucrative business and he was sick and tired of sleeping on wooden crates in the pissing down rain.
after that roman spent almost ten years travelling the country, selling firearms, knives and even military grade weapons to the highest bidder until he drew the attention of another ‘business man’ from Valdez, Colorado who wanted to get his hands on some teflon-coated bullets ( also known as cop killing bullets ) and was willing to pay a hefty price.
roman likes to think of himself as an independent contractor more than a full time member of the gang, he’s never been one for settling down in one place for too long ever since his parents had been killed !! If you keep moving forward, you can never build deep and meaningful relationships and get hurt again...
until he met one of caito’s hitmen, with the most peculiar name; buzz ( @buzzbarton ) they eventually dated for almost a year and a half, they even went as far as to moving in with each other ( a milestone for roman tbh ) until roman’s fears and hang ups about what his love did to others got the best of him and he skipped out on him, he told himself he’d stayed in Valdez for too long anyway, it was time to set up shop somewhere new.
he’s recently returned to Valdez following the death of Caito, strictly for professional reasons only. with their leader dead, he’s unsure of where their partnership stands and that’s the story he’s sticking with so don’t bother pressing him for more information. his lips are sealed !!
PERSONALITY
roman has always been more reserved and introverted than his peers, even before the death of his parents. that tragedy only closed him off more to the world, preferring to keep things close to his chest instead of out in the open.
he doesn’t have many friends, mostly a few acquaintances he’s made over the years through his job as an arms dealer. when speaking with other people, he’s a man of very few words — he says what he needs to say && doesn’t beat around the bush !!
he’s resilient and a born survivor, nothing can keep him down for too long && what doesn’t kill him better fucking run tbh.
WANTED CONNECTIONS
honestly i have a bunch of wanted connections for roman, but it’s nearly three am and i’ve rambled on too long and need to go to bed because i have work again in the morning but i’ll update this part of his intro tomorrow after work. until then feel free to hit me up if you like my new son of a bitch and wanna plot etc
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Sssssss (1973) SUMMARY
Dr. Carl Stoner (Martin), a herpetologist, sells a mysterious creature in a crate to a carnival owner. He later hires college student David Blake (Benedict) as an assistant, claiming that his previous assistant had left town to attend to a sick relative). Unbeknownst to David or anyone else, Stoner is a delusional man, convinced that humanity is doomed and is attempting to prepare for what he believes to be the inevitable by working out a method of transforming humans into reptiles that can survive pollution and any other ecological disaster that would wipe humanity out.
Stoner begins David on a course of injections, purportedly as a safeguard against being bitten by a snake in his lab. David’s skin slowly starts to change and even peel like a snakeskin. He begins to have strange nightmares and goes into a coma when having dinner with Stoner and does not wake up until a few days later. He also begins to lose weight as well, but Stoner tells him those are side effects from the venom. David begins a romance with Stoner’s daughter Kristina (Menzies), although her father objects and insists that she not have any sexual relations with him.
When David wakes up the next morning, he looks in the mirror and screams in horror. Later, a distraught David is in the lab, where Stoner gives him another injection. Meanwhile, a suspicious colleague of Stoner’s, Dr. Daniels, arrives to inspect the property, and as David begins to get weaker, Stoner hides him in a corner. But David gets enough strength to walk to the window, where Daniels sees that his face has become green and very scaly. Before Daniels can react, Stoner knocks him out and feeds him to a python, and David collapses.
Kristina visits a carnival freak show and is horrified when she sees a bizarre “snake-man,” whom she recognizes as Stoner’s previous assistant, Tim. Distraught, she races back home to save David who is currently mutating into a king cobra, brought about by the injections Stoner has been giving him. Stoner is bitten by a real king cobra from his lab and dies, just as David’s transformation is complete. Kristina arrives home and finds her father dead with the real cobra next to him. Growing suspicious, the police then arrive and shoot the cobra before heading to the lab where a mongoose is attacking David’s neck, attempting to kill him. But the police do not have a clear shot, and as Kristina screams David’s name, the movie ends abruptly, leaving their fates uncertain.
BEHIND THE SCENES
Released in 1973 by Universal on a double bill with The Boy Who Cried Werewolf. Sssssss was the initial collaboration of executive producers Richard D. Zanuck and David Brown who hired Twentieth Century-Fox’s head make-up chief, Dan Striepeke, to produce their first venture. Striepeke had worked with John Chambers on the unique simian make-up for the Planet of the Apes series at Fox, and was actually thinking about filming a man-into-snake movie at the time. While the problem of such a transformation seemed unfilmable. Striepeke hired screenwriter Hal Dresner to concoct a scary story with plenty of comedy relief, and then persuaded Chambers, along with Nick Marcellino, to provide a believable method of turning Benedict into a king cobra. Dresner’s original title for his script was King Cobra, but that really didn’t do anything for Striepeke, who came up with Sssssss when one of the hundred inhabitants recruited as supporting players from Hermosa’s hissed at him. All agreed that the unmistakable and universally feared sound.
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“The idea of turning into a reptile fascinated me. Other than that, my role was kind of… well, I don’t want to say boring, but rather ordinary. I was playing the helpless victim. But I’ve always been interested in makeup. I had just come from New York when I got this job, so as a stage actor, I was used to doing my own makeup.”
For Sssssss, he was in the capable hands of two veteran makeup men. “Dan Striepeke, who also came up with the film’s story, had been head of makeup at 20th Century Fox,” Benedict says. “Dan and John Chambers won an Academy Award for Planet of the Apes. So, it was exciting to work with them. Both Striepeke and Chambers were much more excited and proud of the snake makeup than they were of their Apes work. It’s much more difficult to turn somebody into a snake!”
It was also much more time-consuming, but Benedict looked upon it as an adventure. “Four weeks before filming, the made a cast of my head and then built a snake-head to fit it, like a diver helmet. Then, I was completely shaved, and snake scales made of latex were applied all over my body.
“It took seven hours to apply the final snake makeup. It took four makeup artists, who then painted and textured the scales. And the early transformations, where I’m still half-human, took about four hours to apply. Those are the scenes where my head is a snake’s, but I still have wisps of hair and my body is still human. It was a tedious but very interesting process.
“It was a fun film, and Strother was a joy to work with. Unfortunately, the movie was not a success. Universal had high hopes for it and they even had a couple of sequels in line, but it didn’t make enough money.” – Dirk Benedict
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Director Bernard L. Kowalski Interview
How did SSSSSSS come about? !
Bernard L. Kowalski: It was an original story idea that ! Dan Striepeke had: Dan had been a makeup artist, and he and John Chambers were credited with Planet of the Apes. Dan went to see Dick Zanuck, and Zanuck had responded to the story. It ended up being the first movie that Zanuck and David Brown made at Universal
And that’s where the film was shot?
Bernard L. Kowalski: We did it entirely at Universal, the backlot and a few of the street areas around it: back near the Psycho house, we used the Virginian ranch as Strother Martin’s place. We shot it, I think, in about 22 days.
And your budget?
Bernard L. Kowalski: Since we made it at Universal with their Overhead factors and everything else, it came to $1,030,000. We had high hopes for SSSSSSS, we owned a good piece of it, so there was a chance to be in a profit participation basis that might have proved quite lucrative. We’ve never really received any money on it in the way of profits, but that’s a tough thing to do at a major studio. It was quite well-received in Europe.
Were you happy with the unusual title, SSSSSSS (Don’t Say It, Hiss It)?
Bernard L. Kowalski: Yes, I found it to be a title that created a lot of word-of-mouth. Part of how the title came up was, Dan Striepeke and I went to the Hermosa Beach Reptile Emporium during our initial investigation on cobras. The store owner pulled a cobra out-a totally poisonous, lethal cobra-and put it down at his feet. He was between us and the cobra, but it was a very small room, and we heard the sound that it made. That’s where we picked up the title of the show. It worked for us.
Did you enjoy working on this one as much as you did the Cormans?
Bernard L. Kowalski: We had a good time making it. Dan Striepeke was a very bright, honest man, full of integrity; Zanuck and Brown were wonderful to work with, thorough gentlemen who had a lot of input; and Strother Martin was just a wonderful human being a lovely actor and a very funny man.
Did the snakes present any threat during production?
Bernard L. Kowalski: We had 155 reptiles, and of that, we had like 60 or 70 that were lethal. The king cobra that we used was absolutely regal in the sense that he didn’t make mistakes twice. All the other snakes would hit the glass any time you’d go near them, but the king Cobra did it once, and then he’d just look at you. There were a lot of silly, fun things that we shouldn’t have done but we did. The very first day, for instance, I said to my assistant Gordon Webb, “I want you to tell everybody here there’ll be no games, no playing around. We’re in a position where it could be dangerous, and we’ll deal very heavily with anyone that fools around with this.” Well, he makes this speech, and the minute he gets done somebody throws a rubber snake at him and he screams at the top of his lungs. That was the end of it: after that, everyone was doing terrible things to everybody else all the way through
One story I enjoy telling on Dick Zanuck: Dick, who was very athletic, very much his own man, would come up to the set every day to offer his comments on dailies, but he never got too close to the snakes. So one of the young snake trainers, who didn’t know or care who anybody was, walked up to him and said, “You’re one of the big shots with the company, huh?” And Dick said, “Well, I’m the executive producer.” And the kid came back, “You’re also scared shitless of the snakes, huh?’ Dick just looked at him. The kid went on, “Yeah, I could tell. You haven’t come anywhere near ’em, and you get away as fast as you can.” Dick is the type of person that would swing on a lot of people who would call him that, but he got in his limousine and left. He came back in two hours, walked up to this kid and said, “Put the boa constrictor around my neck.” The kid looked at him and said, “You had a couple of drinks, huh?” Dick said, “Uh-huh. Put the boa around my neck.” And so they did it. That was kind of fun
What precautions did you take to safe guard your cast and crew against the snakes?
Bernard L. Kowalski: We had a doctor there at all times, in case anyone had gotten bit by accident. I’d had all of the people that were going to be dealing with the snakes exposed to the hazards, dangers and limitations of the snakes prior to our filming Everyone was informed as to what we could fool around with and what we couldn’t fool around with. We had no problems, I’m very pleased to say.
One of the highlights of SSSSSSS is the effective makeup on Dirk Benedict.
Bernard L. Kowalski: It was done by the best people in the makeup business, Dan Striepeke and John Chambers. At that time they were the very finest–they were Academy Award winners. Dirk Benedict was very patient–some of that makeup that they put on him took six to eight hours to apply. He was a wonderful person, by the way, a super guy. Heather Menzies and he were a wonderful team. It was a little family, all the way through working the picture, we did everything together, Strother and them, all of us. We shared all the good and the bad moments.
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The most disappointing thing about SSSSSSS is its too-abrupt, let’s-get-this-thing done ending. Was that a last minute, money saving measure?
Kowalski: No, that was the original writing, We didn’t know where to go with it from the time that Dirk Benedict was killed. Being of the genre that it was the intent was to go out on the girl, Heather Menzies, screaming, and the terror of it. I can appreciate where you feel that it was abrupt. Obviously, in some senses, it didn’t work for us, but that was not done through an economy cut process.
Which is your personal favorite of the three horror/sci-fi films you directed?
Kowalski: The most recent one, SSSSSSS because the memories are more alive and fresher for me. I’m a giant fan of Strother Martin, and it was one of the latter experiences he had in films. He was such a joy to work with man into a snake. Strother Martin played the mad doctor whose specialty was reptiles. He had a serpentarium and hired aides, whom he then experimented on. One of the actors was an amputee who was without his legs and one of his arms. He portrayed the specimen who was a by-product of the drug that Strother Martin injected into his aides He was entered as a freak in a sideshow
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CAST/CREW
Directed
Bernard L. Kowalski
Produced
Daniel C. Striepeke
Written
Hal Dresner
Daniel C. Striepeke
Make Up Effects John Chambers
Strother Martin as Dr. Carl Stoner
Dirk Benedict as David Blake
Heather Menzies as Kristina Stoner
Richard B. Shull as Dr. Ken Daniels
Tim O’Connor as Kogen
Jack Ging as Sheriff Dale Hardison
Kathleen King as Kitty Stewart
Reb Brown as Steve Randall
Ted Grossman as Deputy Morgan Bock
Nobel Craig as Tim McGraw, the Snake Man
The Boy Who Cried Werewolf (1973) SUMMARY
Robert Bridgestone (Kerwin Mathews), a divorced father, takes his son Richie (Scott Sealey) to the family mountain cabin. During a moonlight hike, the two are attacked in the darkness by a werewolf. During the struggle, the werewolf falls into a ravine and is impaled on a wooden fence, but not before biting Robert. Upon investigation, they find their attacker to be human. Unable to identify the body, the local sheriff concludes their attacker was a crazy drifter. Richie insists it was a werewolf, but his father and the sheriff laugh it off as childish imagination.
Concerned with Richie’s story, Sandy (Elaine Devry) insists her ex-husband talk with her son’s psychiatrist. The psychiatrist (George Gaynes) says that Richie’s werewolf fixation stems from his inability to accept that his father killed a man and instead has concocted a fantasy wherein his father bravely battles a monster. He suggests Robert take his son back to the cabin, predicting that when Richie returns to the scene and sees that everything is normal, his interest in werewolves will cease.
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Returning to the cabin during another full moon, Robert experiences a wave of pain and sends Richie off to the stream. As he watches in a mirror, Robert changes into a duplicate of the creature he had killed. When Richie sees what is apparently the same werewolf resurrected, he flees to the woods, crossing a mountain road. The werewolf pursues, causing vehicles to crash. One driver is then dismembered by the creature. Richie comes upon two newlyweds camping. While they do not believe the boy’s story, they see his distress and agree to take him home. Arriving at the cabin, Richie’s father is nowhere to be seen, and Richie begs the man to let him return with him to the camper for the night. The next morning Robert, appearing dazed and confused, shows up at the camper and tells the couple he has been searching for Richie all night. Richie tells his father about the werewolf, but Robert is clearly losing patience with his son’s fantasies.
During the following night’s full moon, Robert transforms and searches through the house for Richie who, in anticipation, has hidden himself. The werewolf then seeks out the newlyweds, pushing their camper down a hill. He mutilates their bodies, carrying away one of the heads. Returning to the cabin’s shed just before daybreak, he digs a hole to bury the head. Richie, hearing noises, sneaks down to the shed and witnesses the werewolf’s changing back into his father. Moments later, the sheriff arrives to report on the previous killings, convinced of a connection between the attacks. On the drive home, Richie questions his father about his actions, but Robert dismisses everything, clearly irritable and bothered about his memory blackout. Richie jumps hurriedly out of the car upon arriving at his mother’s, telling her that he is scared to be alone with his father, because his father is a monster.
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Sandy talks with Robert about their son’s fears and how Richie thinks Robert is a werewolf. It is agreed that another visit with the psychiatrist is in order. The doctor tells Robert that Richie genuinely believes that Robert is a werewolf, and that these type of fantasies can be quite powerful for children. The doctor tells Robert that werewolf victims suffer from amnesia and their hands will become deformed the longer they are infected. As their session goes on, the full moon rises and Robert kills the doctor. Meanwhile, Sandy tells Richie this time she will go with him and Robert for a family weekend.
The next day, a reluctant Richie and his mom prepare to leave for the cabin with Robert, unaware that the headline of the morning paper reads “Local Psychiatrist Murdered”. The three set out for the cabin, stopping at a hippie commune on the way. The hippies, with their wild-eyed leader (Bob Homel), are forming a circle of power to drive away evil spirits. When the family stop to watch, the hippies shout at them to join in, and while an amused Sandy agrees, when Robert tries to enter the circle, he is stopped short and cannot move further, as if an invisible barrier were before him. A disturbed Sandy grabs him and they get back in the car and continue to the cabin, where they settle down for the evening. Sandy talks gently with Robert, confessing that she has really missed him and that perhaps they should get back together.
The full moon rises, and Robert turns his back on her, silently walking away. In the shed he finds Richie, digging up the bag he had seen his father (in werewolf form) burying on their previous visit. Robert grabs Richie, clearly in the first stages of transformation, and begs Richie to lock him in the shed. Richie does so, but as he finishes, his mother sees him and hears the noises in the shed. Richie tells her it is his dad in there, whereupon she scolds Richie and tries to open the shed. Richie screams at her just as a clawed hand bursts through the door. Richie and his mother run to the car, escaping just as the werewolf emerges, screaming and snarling. The werewolf attacks the hippie commune and as the sun rises, the werewolf weakens and collapses. The hippies witness the beast’s transformation back into Robert, and though not understanding what they are seeing, they pray for the creature’s soul. Upon regaining consciousness, Robert flees into the woods.
Richie and his mother seek help from the sheriff, but upon returning to the cabin they find the creature gone. The Sheriff leaves some men to stand guard, while Robert watches from the woods and sees that his index finger has now become deformed. Later that evening, as Sandy sleeps by the fire, the werewolf slips silently through a cabin window. Sandy awakes to find it staring her in the face. It starts to carry her off, but on hearing her screams, the deputies burst in, opening fire as the monster jumps out the window. Richie begs for them not to hurt his dad, but of course everyone still cannot accept that it is a werewolf, let alone Richie’s father.
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That evening, as the sheriff organizes a search party, Richie breaks away and heads off to try to save his father. As the moon rises, Richie finds his father, once again transformed, who grabs him and carries him off, with the mob close behind. Cornered, the werewolf attacks Richie, biting him on the arm, before a hail of gunfire distracts him. The bullets cannot kill him, but frantically attempting to flee, he stumbles and falls on the broken stake that held the hippies’ cross to the ground. It pierces his heart, and as a horrified Richie and Sandy watch, the werewolf transforms back into Robert. The last thing we see is Sandy examining her son’s bite mark, with dawning horror on her face (implying that Richie will be cursed to become a werewolf now).
BEHIND THE SCENES
The Boy Who Cried Werewolf is a 1973 Technicolor horror film directed by Nathan H. Juran, who came out of retirement to make the film as a favour to producer Aaron Rosenberg. Kerwin Mattews was closing out his career in 1973, with this film. “That was the absolute pits,” he relates. ‘ ‘The makeup took about four hours to apply, and almost as long to remove. The torture was immense. I couldn’t even eat during the day because I couldn’t move my face. The first time I saw myself in the full werewolf makeup, I thought: ‘Kid, this is definitely your last film.’ After that, I didn’t want to go on any more.”
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CAST/CREW
Directed
Nathan H. Juran
Produced
Aaron Rosenberg
Written
Bob Homel
Makeup Department Thomas R. Burman
Kerwin Mathews as Robert Bridgestone
Elaine Devry as Sandy Bridgestone
Scott Sealey as Richie Bridgestone
Robert J. Wilke as the Sheriff
Susan Foster as Jenny
Jack Lucas as Harry
Bob Homel as Brother Christopher
George Gaynes as Dr. Marderosian
Loretta Temple as Monica
David S. Cass Sr. as Deputy (as Dave Cass)
Harold Goodwin as Mr. Duncan
Tim Haldeman as First Guard
John Logan as Second Guard
Eric Gordon as Hippy ‘Jesus Freak’
Paul Baxley as First Werewolf
REFERENCES/SOURCES
Starlog#120
Starlog #247
Making a Monster Al Taylor and Sue Roy
Son of Guilty Pleasures of the Horror Film
Drive-In Double Feature Released in 1973 by Universal Movie Studio
Drive-In Double Feature Retrospective#01 Sssssss (1973) SUMMARY Dr. Carl Stoner (Martin), a herpetologist, sells a mysterious creature in a crate to a carnival owner.
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MVD Rewind Collection Set to Launch with ‘D.O.A.: A Right of Passage’ and ‘Attack of the Killer Tomatoes!’
MVD Entertainment Group is proud to announce the launch of the "MVD Rewind Collection" series celebrating "cult classics and more from the video store" in special edition Blu-ray + DVD collector's sets loaded with special features. Scheduled to debut December 2017 , the MVD Rewind Collection will launch with special editions of the never-before-released-on-disc punk rock doc classic D.O.A.: A Right of Passage along with Attack of The Killer Tomatoes on two-disc collector's sets.
MVD Rewind Collection #1 coming on December 8, 2017...
D.O.A.: A Right of Passage
D.O.A.: A Right of Passage is the ground-breaking classic "rockumentary" about the origin of punk rock. Centered around the Sex Pistols 1978 tour of the United States which ended with the group breaking up, the tour was the only one the Pistols played in the United States.
Director Lech Kowalski (East of Paradise) followed the band with handheld cameras through the clubs and bars of their seven-city U.S. tour. Mixing this with footage of other contemporary bands, trends in the fashion capitals and punks of all shapes and colors, Kowalski captured a grainy, stained snapshot of the punk movement at its peak (which includes the now famous footage of Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen in bed) along with rare interview and concert footage of the late seventies punk rock music scene.
With live performances by the Sex Pistols, The Dead Boys, Generation X (with Billy Idol), The Rich Kids, the X-Ray Spex, and Sham 69, along with additional music from The Clash and Iggy Pop, this iconic documentary is now available for the first time ever on home video in this 2-Disc set!
SPECIAL FEATURE
High Definition Blu-ray (1080p) and Standard Definition DVD presentation of the main feature.
Original 2.0 Mono Audio (Uncompressed PCM on the Blu-ray)
"Dead On Arrival: The Punk Documentary That Almost Never Was" - A feature length documentary about the making of D.O.A. A Rite of Passage produced by award-winning filmmaker (and former MTV Senior Producer) Richard Schenkman and featuring exclusive new interviews with PUNK magazine founder and Ramones cover-artist John Holmstrom, renowned music journalist Chris Salewicz, legendary photographer Roberta Bayley, Sex Pistols' historian Mick O'Shea, former Rich Kid guitarist and Ultravox lead singer Midge Ure, and original D.O.A. crew members David King, Mary Killen, Rufus Standefer, plus never-before-seen interview footage of Pistols founder, Malcolm McLaren. (HD)
12 page booklet with liner notes written by John Holmstrom, founding editor of PUNK Magazine
Reversible artwork
Rare Sex Pistols Photo Gallery
2-Sided Poster included
Original Theatrical Trailer (3:48, SD)
D.O.A.: A RIGHT OF PASSAGE
95 Minutes ASPECT RATIO: 1.33:1 (4x3) AUDIO: Mono LANGUAGE: ENGLISH ITEM# MVD0237BR UPC: 760137023784 Street Date: 12/8/2017
MVD Rewind Collection #2 coming on January 23, 2018...
UFOs! Bigfoot! Communists! The government has swiftly dealt with many a crisis... But can it survive the diabolical ATTACK OF THE KILLER TOMATOES?
Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the supermarket, you're face to face with terror so bold, so frightening it has never been seen on-screen before or since (not until the sequel, anyway).
After a series of bizarre and increasingly horrific attacks from pulpy, red, seeded fruit, Mason Dixon (David Miller) finds himself leading a "crack" team of specialists to save the planet. But will they be quick enough to save everyone? To save you?
You can't run! You can't swim! There's nowhere to hide!
The killer tomatoes are everywhere!
SPECIAL FEATURES
High Definition Blu-ray (1080p) and Standard Definition DVD presentation of film (1.85:1)
Original 2.0 Mono Audio (Uncompressed PCM on the Blu-ray)
Audio commentary from writer/director John DeBello, writer/co-star Steve Peace and "creator" Costa Dillon
Deleted scenes (SD)
Six exclusive featurettes:
- "Legacy of a Legend" (14:13, SD) is a collection of interviews, including comments from John DeBello, Costa Dillon, film critic Kevin Thomas, fans Kevin Sharp and Bruce Vilanch, future Tomatoes mainstay John Astin and actors Steve Peace, Jack Riley, and D.J. Sullivan- "Crash and Burn" (3:40, SD) is a discussion about the famous helicopter crash that could have killed everyone because the pilot was late on his cue- "Famous Foul" (2:21, SD) is about the San Diego Chicken and his role in the climatic tomato stomping ending- "Killer Tomatomania" (4:33, SD) is a smattering of interviews with random people on the streets of Hollywood about the movie- "Where Are They Now?" (2:51, SD) fills viewers in on what the cast and crew have been up to over the past couple of decades- "We Told You So!" (3:07, SD) takes a hard-hitting look at the conspiracy of silence surrounding the real-life horror of killer tomatoes
"Do They Accept Traveler's Checks in Babusuland" (the original 8mm short that inspired Attack of the Killer Tomatoes) (with optional audio commentary) (SD)
Original theatrical trailer (SD)
Radio spots
Collectible poster
ATTACK OF THE KILLER TOMATOES
RUNNING TIME: 87 Minutes ASPECT RATIO: 1.85:1 (16x9)AUDIO: MONO LANGUAGE: ENGLISH ITEM # MVD0703BR UPC: 760137070382
Street Date: 1/23/2018
The MVD Rewind Collection is the brainchild of MVD Entertainment Group's Eric D. Wilkinson and the home entertainment team. Wilkinson not only manages acquisitions for MVD, but is also personally overseeing this new line of product for the company...
"Having spent the last year curating and pouring over every last excruciating detail of these releases, I'm really excited to share these with fellow collectors. Most of these will be on Blu-ray disc for the first time here in North America and some of these (like D.O.A.) have never been released on any format. Each of these numbered collector's edition sets will include plenty bonus material and supplemental features. Our plan here at MVD is to approach the "Rewind Collection" not just as packaged media releases, but also like the popular, collectible trend category. With video stores being a relic of the past, collectors are building their own libraries and are now basically turning their basements into their own, personal video stores. Our goal is to create something that you can display right alongside your action figures, posters, figurines and collectibles. We intend to use original artwork (either the theatrical or original VHS key art) on all of our releases whenever possible (unless it's really, really bad). Each release with have a limited-edition slipcover that will have a stylized, weathered look as if it's been sitting on a video store shelf for years, complete with wear and tear, stickers and more. In addition, our titles will include a four-fold mini poster of the cover art on the inside too. Most collectors like me, attend cons, autograph shows or horror conventions and it's nice to have a frame-ready poster to get signed. Some of our releases will include reversible artwork; some may have booklets with liner notes along other collectible goodies. And the MVD Rewind Collection isn't just focusing on one genre. The MVD Rewind collection will encompass ALL genres. If its "classic" (and I can get it) we'll try to put it out! I'm a dedicated collector of movies on disc, with over 8,000 plus discs in my collection and I want collectors to know that the MVD Rewind Collection Blu-ray + DVD sets are being overseen by a collector and I will do my best to create the kind of releases you will look forward to adding to your collection every month."
MVD Entertainment Group is a full service music and movie distribution firm, exclusively representing thousands of audio and visual products for DVD, Blu-ray, CD, vinyl, and digital rights, worldwide. MVD also exclusively distributes a growing line of merchandise including limited edition collectibles, tee shirts, and more. The company stays on the cutting edge of new media with a huge catalog of audio and visual digital rights, and by nurturing its direct relationships with the major digital and VOD platforms. MVD works with a variety of up-and-coming platforms and is actively pursuing new relationships.
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#MVD Rewind Collection#Blu-Ray#physical media#physical media collector#MVD Entertainment Group#Attack of the Killer Tomatoes#D.O.A.: A Right of Passage#Sex Pistols#The Dead Boys
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Kowalski - A Francine Non-Adventure
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Now that I was engaged with the plot, it slowed to a crawl as I spent the next week reviewing the police’s files on the murder victims. Hours every day reading reports, looking at photos, and making notes that were little more than a list of questions without answers. In a tv show or novel, this would have been a montage or just a few sentences at the beginning of a chapter and not days of my life.
“Hello,” an officer said as he passed my desk. I watched Officer Kowalski fill a paper cup from the water cooler. It was across from the spare desk Detective Karter had found for me. Kowalski stood out as the only patrol cop I saw on a regular basis. Maybe it was just a coincidence he was always scheduled when I was in the station. That didn’t explain why I saw him several times during the day when he should have been out patrolling the streets. Most of the police people seemed content to ignore me. Kowalski said hello every time he passed my desk.
“Hey Kowalski,” I said. He turned to face me. “What do you think of this case?” I gestured at the reports and photos spread across the desk.
“I don’t really know much about it. Serial killer. Four victims, that we know of, unrelated. Kills every two weeks. Fakes the crime scene.”
“So, you’re all caught up. He’s scheduled to kill again tonight. I’m supposed to catch this guy.”
“It’s not your fault this guy’s out there killing people.”
“I know that but I’m the observant outside who cracks the case wide open. At least I thought I was.”
“This isn’t tv. Police work is hours of talking to people, finding evidence, putting together timelines.”
“I know that and I’ve put in the time. I’ve been reading these reports and looking at these photos for days and I have nothing to show for it.”
“I’m sure we’ll catch this guy. These guys always think they’re so smart but they always mess up somehow.”
“We got nothing right now. The crime scenes are fake. The “murder weapon” from each murder isn’t even the murder weapon. The victims didn’t live in the same neighborhood. One lived up here,” I touched the map in the approximate location of the first victim, “Another lived over here, the third lived across the city here.” I paused with my finger on the third victim’s home. “And the last lived here.”
I stared at the invisible points where my finger had touched the map. I pulled out the victims’ files and began marking the exact addresses of their homes. Using the edge of a folder, I drew straight lines between them. They made a perfect square. “How did I miss that?” I said out loud.
“Miss what?” Kowalski asked.
“The victims’ homes make a square on the map. They aren’t random. He chose these four men because of where they lived. But why?”
“I don’t know,” Kowalski said looking at the map, “They line up with the cardinal directions, too.”
“What?”
He pointed to the compass on the map and back at the square I drew. “North, south, east, west.” I flipped through the victim’s files. The police had checked the victims’ homes but nothing of note had been found. They didn’t know the locations were significant.
“We need to go to one of the victims’ homes.” I stood up and started gathering my things.
“Hold up, I thought you were a consultant. You can’t just go investigating on your own.”
“I’m not. You’re going to go with me.”
“I am?” Kowalski asked.
“Yes. I need a police escort and you don’t seem to be doing anything right now. Are you doing anything?”
“I have … paperwork,” he said uncertainly.
“Of course, you’ve been hanging around doing nothing. You’re my cop buddy.”
“I’m your what now?”
“Never mind that. We need to get going. I should have figured out the victims’ homes thing days ago.” Kowalski stared at me like I had grown a second head. “Look, I’m here to look at the evidence with fresh eyes but there’s no evidence from the victims’ homes because no one thought to look for any. The only way I can look at the evidence is to go to one of their homes myself. And you are going to take me.”
“I can’t just take you to a random location to look for … for clues.”
I paused putting on my sweater. Was I looking for clues? Was I too caught up in the crime thriller plot? I had said I would stay in the precinct where I was safe. It wasn’t like the killer would be waiting for me at one of the victims’ homes, would he? No, even that would be too coincidental. I was stalled working with just the police files. I had to do something to move the plot forward before he killed again.
“Call Detective Karter and tell him I’ve got a lead but I need to go to one of the victims’ homes.”
Kowalski stared at me. I waved him to the phone on the desk. He sighed and picked up the phone. After a short conversation, he hung up and said, “Get your stuff we’re going a field trip.”
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"Kowalski – A Francine Non-Adventure" was also posted on my website, Gillian's Notebook, home of my writing. Help support my writing by becoming a patron. Reblogs help to spread my writing to new readers.
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