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apprenticestanheight · 3 months

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kindly asking for hoffman taking care of a sick s/o (but also not opposed to the same prompt for amanda,,)

Hoffman and Amanda taking care of a sick s/o headcanons

Okay!! This is coming out literal months after it was sent into my inbox and for that, I apologize! I am notoriously terrible at time management and I will procrastinate as much as the day is long.

Procrastination in accompaniment with a couple of personal issues and mountains of demotivation and anxiety as tall as mount everest are not the best cocktail and again, I am very sorry for how long this has taken!

I do have it titled in a way that might be a little confusing but, just to clarify, I did do headcanons and I did two separate sets rolled up into one fic just so that I could make it a little easier on myself because I could not, for the life of me, choose between hoffman and amanda for this. I don't write enough for either of them so this is kind of how I'm compensating for that lol

Fic type - this is very fluffy!

Warnings - the reader has a sinus infection/cold, so there's likely to be symptoms of that discussed, plus mentions of medication

oooookay!! To start, we're gonna go with Hoffman!

You wake up sick one random morning at the beginning of February and Mark is immediately like "oh NO, did I give them the sinus cold that's been going around work?" bc he had it like,, two or so weeks beforehand

and when you say good morning in a way that tells mark you're groggy but also sick, he calls in sick from work on your behalf and then calls the precinct to waste a few sick days to take care of you

After he's called in sick from work, he kisses your forehead both because he wants to and also to check for a fever. He finds that you're burning up, which is a bit of a surprise given the fact that, the minute Mark had adjusted, you'd practically stolen all of the blankets from him.

So, he kisses you on the forehead again and then leaves your apartment to grab the essentials: ibuprofen for the inevitable headache, a combination pack Nyquil and Dayquil to ease the fever and also help you function like a person during the day and get some sleep at night.

He also grabs chicken noodle soup and bread for toast, plus a few of your favorite snacks.

When he gets back home, he tosses one of his older NJPD sweaters into the dryer so that it comes out warm once the fever has broken, finds you in your bed with nothing but a stolen pair of Marks boxers and one of his button ups to act as clothes. A thick blanket covers your legs entirely and you've sat up in the bed, clearly trying to will yourself to function like you would if you weren't sick.

Mark is at your side relatively quickly with a Dayquil and bottle of gatorade in hand, kissing your forehead as you take the pills and thank him for running the errand.

Generally, Mark is absolutely the type of guy who just wants to make sure you have the time to rest. He takes care of the house work, makes sure that the windows are open so that you're still getting fresh air but aren't practically drowning in the wintery cold, does everything he can to make sure you're resting well.

that also means he's with you lots of the time--he'll lay down with you in bed for as long as you want, happy to kiss the top of your head and act as your anchor when a migraine sets in.

It also means kisses after you've taken your meds--you'll pop a Dayquil, sip some gatorade, and Mark will kiss your forehead or your cheek and then say nothing when you fall asleep against his shoulder twenty minutes later

he's generally very sweet and absolutely one hell of a guy to have around when you have a cold

okay! It's Mandys turn

Amanda is super clingy and has herself a few connections, so when she finds out you have a cold she uses those connections.

the biggest connection that she has is lawrence (I am firmly of the belief that they had a sibling dynamic and also that they were both only children) and she uses it the second you're asleep while sinus-infected and bedridden

she calls him up like "hi. my partner has a cold. I need a prescription for the best cold meds you have or at least a bit of advice please and thanks."

so, Lawrence kind of like,, he gives her the play-by-play, right? He tells her what over-the-counter meds work the best and gives her advice on how to help you

she follows it bc she wants you to get better. She gets you the good stuff and benadryl, which has the tendency to knock a person out as it were and the night-time cold meds were out of stock at the pharmacy she went to.

She even goes to walmart and gets you a heated blanket. she is the fuckin--she loves you so much that she's willing to spend the 2001 equivalent of modern-day $20 for one of the decent ones.

And then she gets home and kisses you on the cheek bc emotional support, and you thank her while she sets up the heated blanket

generally, Amanda is like--she's on top of your care. She makes sure you're always comfortable, bribes you with kisses to get you to take the buckleys or whatever it is that she finds when she checks another pharamacy after a bit of apprenticing one day

you also sleep a lot, and Amanda pretty much acts as your body pillow??

the minute you're tiredly pressing your face against her shoulder, she's just kind of happy to let you sleep as you please because she wants you to get better

generally, she's very attentive and is quick to get you what you need when you need it.

#mark hoffman x reader #amanda young x reader #mark hoffman #amanda young #saw 2004 #saw franchise

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valeriixchen · 7 months

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a pawned wedding ring, skin tanned by the afternoon sun, sweat on your brow and grease on your face, hickies as a love language, a 1959 plymouth sport, cherry pie and red wine, growing up as one of the boys, switching languages mid-sentence, good food and good company, reminding yourself big girls don't cry, pretending you don't still miss her.

❝ I have love inside me. But I don’t know how to use love. --Sometimes it scratches like barbs. ❞

Supply list: tools and parts to repair machinery, police issue firearm and handcuffs, first aid kit and extra ppe from work, baking ingredients, an impressive wine supply, and a small herb/veggie garden growing in the window sill.

Gender & Pronouns: Cis Female & She/Her Sexuality: Lesbian Birthplace: New Jersey Room #: Studio 707 Years at the Wexley: Two

Valerii was born into blue blood; a family who’s connections to law enforcement ran deep through the generations. Being the youngest of six, and the only girl at that, Val spent most of her life fighting to be taken seriously. With her father as the commissioner of the NJPD, mom in the running for assistant district attorney, and brothers various ranks within the police force–choosing her career wasn’t a question of picking a job, but deciding if she wanted to be a bigger pariah than she already was. She went to school for forensic science and became a crime scene investigator with the Jersey crime lab, which was good enough to keep her in the family’s good graces.

She was married by her mid-twenties and divorced by her early thirties. The same drive for her work that led Val to a CSI level three promotion, also led to her wife serving her with papers for neglecting their marriage. After the divorce Val wanted a fresh start and crossed state lines to join with NY crime lab as a nightshift assistant supervisor. She got a condo at the Wexley and focused on building a new life–one that wasn’t focused on pleasing her family.

Val’s been able to devote a lot more time to her passion project of restoring classic cars. Her pride and joy is a 1959 cherry red Cadillac that’s been sitting in a storage unit downtown since the divorce.

Previous Zombie Experience: She was working a night shift at the lab when a body reanimated and attacked a coworker. Killing it with a scalpel through the eye, Val barely had time to process what had happened before another body began to rise.

#bnyintro

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byenycfm · 8 months

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Valerii Chen || 39 || #707 || Olivia Munn || Closed

Personality:

It takes time for Val to warm up to strangers, often seen as overly blunt or cynical. She doesn’t make friends easily but she’s very loyal to those she has. The only daughter of six children, Val was raised in a boy’s club and it shows. She’s worked hard for what she has and doesn’t believe in giving handouts.

Biography:

Valerii was born into blue blood; a family who’s connections to law enforcement ran deep through the generations. Being the youngest of six, and the only girl at that, Val spent most of her life fighting to be taken seriously. With her father as the commissioner of the NJPD, mom in the running for assistant district attorney, and brothers various ranks within the police force--choosing her career wasn’t a question of picking a job, but deciding if she wanted to be a bigger pariah than she already was. She went to school for forensic science and became a crime scene investigator with the Jersey crime lab, which was good enough to keep her in the family’s good graces.

She was married by her mid-twenties and divorced by her early thirties. The same drive for her work that led Val to a CSI level three promotion, also led to her wife serving her with papers for neglecting their marriage. After the divorce Val wanted a fresh start and crossed state lines to join with NY crime lab as a nightshift assistant supervisor. She got a condo at the Wexley and focused on building a new life--one that wasn’t focused on pleasing her family.

Pre Outbreak Occupation: NYPD CSI Martial Status: Divorced Children: N/A Residence: Studio #707 Years residing at The Wexley: Two Connections: N/A

#Chen #floor7 #olivia munn #closed

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elcorreodigital · 4 years

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Policía mata a conductor de Nueva York que huyó tras cometer infracción vial en Jersey

Portaba una pistola y tenía antecedentes por robo y conducir ebrio

Fiscalía de NJ investiga el caso

Por:Redacción | 29 de Abril 2020

Como Bradley G. Pullman fue identificado el conductor que murió baleado luego de una persecución policial en Wayne, Nueva Jersey.

Según la policía, Pullman (48) residía en Beacon (Condado Dutchess, NY), tenía antecedentes penales y portaba un arma al…

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#new jersey #njpd #NYPD #state police n.j.

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idgaf-what-you-call-me · 3 years

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I know I post about Destiel and SPN but I have to say this. I have to because I am an adult. I have to because Claudia is a child. I have to as a former NJ resident.

Kellyanne Conway should be in jail. Either for possession or for possession and distribution of CP.

Either way she should be in jail. Claudia needs to be in a safe home. CPS and NJPD have been called out so many times and do nothing to help her despite hours of video evidence showing the abuse.

Parents are supposed to protect their children.

#claudia conway #kellyanne conway

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eighth--wonder · 3 years

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alright fuck it

here's a lil story i'm writing. i have no idea where it's heading but i want to share it.

first | next

Stranger

“Do you have a minute?” asks the stranger that has taken a seat next to me. I just wanted to read a book in the park and NOT talk to people. It’s the reason I’m out here, to not talk to people. Well, that, and the fact that my therapist keeps yelling at me to go outside.

“Y-yes?” I said back to him, shutting my book. There it goes, that darn stutter.

“I’ve had a heck of a day. I got laid off from the only thing keeping me from living in my parents' basement, my phone shattered after this stupid kid knocked into me on his bike, I lost this really important family heirloom after my house was robbed by my step-mom, and, I have no friends to vent to, which why I’m talking to you, a stranger. No offense.”

I smiled. “None t-taken. That sounds li-like a pretty crappy d-day to m-me.”

He looked confused. “You…”

“I-i-i-it’s my s-stutter.”

“Oh. I’m Cody by the way.” He said, delivering a warm smile along with a hand to shake.

I shook his hand. “I’m Wil-Wilson. N-nice to me-meet you.”

Here is usually where the people who thought I could be a potential friend go away, but Cody was different. He stayed, asking me what book I was reading, talked about how the economy was failing, new shows on Netflix. Ya know, the usual.

Eventually, he decided that I was good friend material, and we exchanged numbers.

I walked home after Cody left, considering my social interaction bar had been used up for the day talking to him. Cody, the only person who judged me by how I acted instead of my stutter. He was nice, his appearance wasn’t anything out of the usual indicating he wasn’t a serial killer, which was always a perk. He also didn’t show any signs of isolation which is why I was surprised when he told me he didn't have any friends, but everybody copes in their own way, I guess. His tone of voice suggested that he goes to therapy, he sounded very on edge, possibly paranoia, but he did say he had a bad day.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. My CSI training tended to kick in from time to time. I had gotten “let go” from my CSI position at NJPD because of head trauma, also known as, “We don’t want a kid with a broken dream and a stutter solving murders.”

I opened the door to my apartment and stepped inside. Just as I had expected, nothing had happened. My living room was a mess, decorative throw pillows all pilled and smushed. The coffee table had empty coffee mugs littered around its surface leaving white rings on the table. I guess I should clean them up.

After cleaning up the coffee mugs and the white heat rings, I grabbed a cup of water, sat down in front of the TV, and flipped to the news.

As usual, the news delivered nothing but depressing news about how the president’s attempt to do something-or-other was succeeding. Or failing. I never paid attention to the news.

I turned the TV off and decided to go do something productive with my time and then did nothing because who has time for productivity and stared at the ceiling.

Eventually, my body started telling me I needed to sleep and listening to it, I changed into my sleepwear and went to bed.

I woke up to birds chirping and the sun shining through my bedroom window, which would lead you to think I would have a wonderful day, meet someone new, maybe go shopping for supplies to make a delicious meal, but no. My plan for the day was to update my laptop, watch some TV, then maybe mow the lawn.

While I was staring at the black screen of my updating laptop, my phone vibrated signaling a text message had come through. Getting text messages was not a usual occurrence for me. I only ever got messages from my data plan telling me I ran out of data. I looked down at my phone and to my surprise, it was Cody asking if I wanted to hang out today. After proofreading my response and then proofreading it again, I sent it to him.

Waiting for his response, I sat on my bed chewing my nails.

What if he isn’t really your friend, he’s just pretending to be?

What if it’s all a joke and he hates you?

No, stop that.

Why would anybody want to be friends with you?

You can’t even speak right.

Stop.

Nobody even likes you.

That’s it.

I got up and got changed, avoiding looking in any mirrors. My outfit wasn’t anything extraordinary, a pair of jeans with an old band t-shirt and leather jacket matched with Converse. Without waiting for a meeting place from Cody, I headed out the door, slinging my beige satchel over my shoulder. In my satchel was my phone, my wallet, a pocket knife and a lighter.

I arrived at the park searching for Cody: vitiligo, blonde hair, freckles, blue eyes, glasses, a pretty good sense of style. Judging by what he wore yesterday which was a pair of work pants, a long-sleeved light pink dress shirt, and a navy blue tie, he would wear something casual like jeans and a sweatshirt. What he wore yesterday was obviously his work clothes but as he said, he had gotten laid off from his job so he wouldn’t be wearing work clothes.

I had actually done research on jobs for him based on the personality gathered from him. I know, I know. I’m weird because somehow I know his entire personality after just meeting him for the first time. Yeah well, I don’t care. The job turnouts were nice, things along the lines of psychiatrists, therapists. Ya know, socially demanding jobs. Something I could never do.

Eventually, I found Cody at a coffee shop talking to the lady at the counter about how she should go see a therapist to cope with the loss of her husband. What a gentleman.

He turned around to find a seat in the crowded coffee shop and noticed me standing in the middle of the shop, staring at him like a loser.

“Wilson, you found me!” He said, walking up to me as if he had known me longer than a quick chat on a bench.

“I did,” I said, nervous that other people would see. “Now le-let’s go,” I said, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the door.

“Don’t you want anything?” He said, struggling not to spill his coffee.

“No, I’ll p-pick up a Mo-Monster on the w-way to the ma-mall,” I said.

Realizing I was basically holding Cody’s hand, I let go and turned to face him.

“S-sorry,” I said, turning a slight shade of pink.

Cody situated himself. “About what?”

“Nevermi-mind,” I shook my head as if doing that would remove the awkwardness from the situation.

Cody kind of smiled. “Okay. So, we’re we headed?”

“I was th-thinking the mall, m-maybe hit up H-Hot Topic,” I said as I started to walk down the trail.

The trail at the park was an absolute must if you’re a tourist. In the fall, the trail became covered in amber-gold leaves. Animals of all sorts rustled the leaves, burrowing to make their homes. Grumpy park keepers raking leaves into piles only to have children jump in them and ruin them. God, I love it.

“Sure. Doesn’t the mall have a food court? We could stop there and get something to eat.”

I turned to look at him. “Th-that would be g-great.”

We walked in silence to the mall. I could never quite figure out Cody’s shopping preference. He looked like he shopped at Kohls or Sears. Some relatively nice places. Maybe Boscovs. I, on the other hand, shop at places like Hot Topic and Journeys.

We arrived at the mall and made a direct line to a Hot Topic. I could tell Cody had never entered a Hot Topic in his life, considering the fact he scrunched up when he saw the cashier.

I walked up beside him and nudged him. “This your fi-first time?”

He took a sip of his coffee. “In a Hot Topic, yes.”

I turned back to the t-shirts. “I can te-tell.”

We browsed the store, Cody striking some conversation with other shop goers. How is he so social? He even got the kids in Hot Topic to talk to him.

“Wilson, c’mere!” Cody yelled from the other side of the store. The entire store, which consisted of like, 3 people, turned to look at me.

I chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, h-h-hi.” I gave a tiny socially awkward wave which was responded with an understanding nod from some kid in a Panic! At the Disco shirt.

I scurried over to the other side of the store. “Wha-what do you wa-want!” I hissed at him.

Cody gestured over to the shirt he had in his right hand. “Don’t you like this band? I saw them on your lockscreen.”

He was holding a Twenty One Pilots shirt that had the words: “I belive in Josh Dun” etched around the alien-like symbol that represented Josh Dun. The shirt wasn’t really my style, but Cody looked so proud of himself for finding a shirt that I could possibly like, that I couldn’t turn it down. I grabbed the sirt from his hands and slung it over my shoulder. I looked for other t-shirts, failed, and ended up in the pin section. A sign underneath the bucket read, “Buy 2 get 1 free”. I was always a sucker for deals.

“Watcha doing?” A voice was accompanied by a brush on my shoulder. I suspected that it was Cody’s arm, because his hand brushed against mine. As if that same hand had taken a paintbrush, my face was painted a light red. Well, more of a light pink. For some reason, Cody’s touch made my chest feel all weird, my stomach flutter, and my face heat up. Of course I knew what this feeling was, I’m not stupid.

“Uh, I’m l-looking for pi-pins. They’re b-buy two get one fr-free.” I said.

Cody was immediately intrigued. He rummaged through the pins, discarding ones he didn’t like. I already held two pins in my hand, a Fall Out Boy one and a subtle LGBTQ+ Pride pin.

Now, Cody wasn’t the type of person I would have thought to have also picked out an LGBTQ+ Pride pin as well, but here we are, Cody with an extremely flamboyant Pride pin in the palm of his hand.

My face tuned a medium shade of red. Holy crap, Cody’s gay. I mean, it didn’t bother me, obviously, but you never would have guessed it.

Somehow, I completed the transaction between the cashier and I, and me and Cody made a beeline for the Five Guys. Five Guys was a restaurant I had come to many times when I was a kid. I ordered what I usually got, a Veggie Sandwich. Cody ordered a Cheeseburger with Small Fries. An order I can respect. We searched for a place to sit before choosing a seat underneath the trees they put in the mall. It never occured to me why they put trees in the mall until now.

Seeing Cody smile at me from underneath the trees, a stray ray of sunlight shone through his glasses and making its way to his blue eyes, his smile making me feel warm inside. God, what I would do to take a picture of him right now.

“H-hey, can I t-take a p-p-picture of y-you, Cody?” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

“Sure. Where do you want me to look?” He said. I was honestly surprised by his reaction. He didn’t think I was weird or refuse.

I adjusted my phone camera to the light settings. “J-just look directly a-at the c-cam-camera and smi-smile.”

He did as I said, smiling directly at the camera. The shot was super cliche, but he looked great.

I took the picture, ignoring weird looks from other customers, and sent it to Cody. The picture came out nice.

“Put a black and white filter on it.” Cody’s voice sounded from my shoulder. His chin rested right where my shoulder met my neck.

I put the black and white filter on it. The ray of sunlight that passed diagnally on his face was turned to a light gray.

“But it l-look-looks better with col-colour.” I said, changing it back.

Cody stared at it for a few moments, his face looked rather studious, as if he wanted to remember every aspect of the photo.

“Yeah, your right. Keep it coloured.”

I smiled. “I’m al-always ri-right.”

Something about how quickly our friendship had formed made an impact on me. We met on a bench yesterday and now I’m sending him a picture I took of him in a mall plainly because I wanted to. Something wasn’t right; friendships don’t move this quickly. People weren’t just nice. As depressing as it sounds, it’s true. People aren’t nice with no reason. We’d love them to be, but they just aren’t.

Cody threw away the remains of his lunch and sat back down in front of me.

“So, want do you want to do now?” He said.

I shrugged. “I do-don’t know. May-maybe we c-could go to-”

Cody gasped. “What about a play! There’s a theatre down the street, and the admission’s free!”

I smiled. I friggin’ love plays. Especially musicals. Something about how people can change their person to a completely different personality always made me happy.

“I lo-love the sound of th-that.” I said, standing up and throwing the remains of my veggie sandwich in the garbage can.

We left the mall in a hurry, rushing to hail a cab to the nearest theatre. We both sat in the back of the cab as the driver drove us to our location.

“So, do y-you know wha-what play it i-i-is?” I asked.

Cody shook his head no. “Honestly, I don’t really care what play it is. I just love the acting behind it.” He said.

“Me t-too. I just lo-love how the pe-pe-people on st-stage can tra-transform into wha-whatever chara-character they ne-need to-” I was cut off by the cab driver.

“Ay kid, could ya knock it off with that stutter? It’s really annoyin’ and it’s gettin’ on my nerves.” He said. He had a heavy jersey accent, a contrast to our current location of New York.

“Yes s-sir.” I said, folding my hands in my lap and drawing my eyes to my feet.

Cody kept looking between me and the cab driver. “What? No.” He said, knocking on the glass that divided the passengers and the driver.

“Sir, can you pull over?” He said. His tone sounded like a mother who was about to scold her child.

The cab driver groaned and pulled over.

“What?” He said, twisting his body so he could see through the little window.

“My friend can’t help his stutter, okay? And for you to ask him to ‘knock it off’ was extremely impolite.” Cody said.

‘Friend’. I held back my smile.

The cab driver snorted. “I don’t care if he can help it or not, it’s annoying and it distracts me from driving.”

Cody laughed in disbelief. “Oh, I see. Well, in that case, can you stop talking in that obnoxious jersey accent of yours? It distracts me from enjoying the view. And, maybe stop smelling like rotten fries because it makes it hard to focus. And I would heavily enjoy it if you threw out that black ice smelly tree, because all it does is combine with the scent of feces back here and makes it smell worse.” He smiled sweetly. “Thanks so much, mmm-bye.”

He opened the cab door and walked over to the sidewalk to open mine. I got out, throwing a dirty look at the cab driver. We left without paying.

“Hey, th-thanks for standing u-u-up for me b-back there. It rea-really meant a lo-lot.” I said.

Cody smiled. “No problem! It just pisses me off when people are mean to others.”

We walked to the theatre. Cody was right, the admission was free and it was one of my favourite plays. Romeo and Juliet.

Cody and I walked up to the admission box, standing rather close to each other.

“One ticket for me and one for my friend.” He said.

There it was. That word Friend. Now that I think of if, I haven’t really had a friend before. Yeah, I know. You’re probably thinking ‘Wilson, I bet you had at least one friend.’ Nope. None of the kids in elementary school talked to me enough for me to develop a friendship with them, and middle school was, well, middle school, and after my accident in high school, no one spoke to me straight up. I’m honestly surprised I have the social skills I have.

We walked down the aisle and found our seats. We were seated in the 3rd row of the middle section. So right near the front.

“Have you ever seen Romeo and Juliet?” Cody asked.

I raised my eyebrows. “Have I ev-ever seen R-Romeo and Juli-Juliet?”

Cody smiled. “I take it you have. Well good, because I’ve never seen it.”

“Really?” I said. How?????

Cody shook his head. “Nope. Never seen it.”

I sighed. “Do you at le-least know th-the p-plot?”

“More or less. I know theres a thing with a balcony?”

“Yes.”

“And they,” He looked side to side, checking for people. “Both die?”

I smiled and nodded. “Y-Yes! So you kno-know the basic-ics. G-Good.”

We turned our attention to the stage as the lights dimmed.

yea that's it so far. ask me if you wanna be tagged!

#stranger #<- that's the name of the story btw #danny tries to write

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nate-the-content-creator · 3 years

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The Mercedes Benz Superdome is packed to the brim with fans, cheering and screaming their heads off in anticipation of what is to come. With an attendance record Vince McMahon would absolutely salivate over, it was truly standing-room-only in the completely sold-out arena. Already in the ring stand Brock Lesnar, Kazuchka Okada, and Maxwell Jacob Friedman. The three top challengers for the three best Duelists in the world from the three biggest promotions in the world.

Suddenly, the lights in the arena go out, the jumbotron crackling to life with images of the bayou and cult-like symbols!

A match strikes in the blackness, revealing a man in a red vest and white straw fedora, flanked by two men dressed in black. The central figure lights the lantern in his hand, shaking out the large match before looking into the flames. Jackson Corvus smiles softly, muttering almost to no-one...

"New Orleans...... We're Here."

With a gentle breath, the lantern is extinguished and the Dragons of Justice appear at the entrance ramp, greeted by 79,000 fireflies welcoming them.

The second this match was announced, ticket sales were through the roof. In fact, people were so hype for this match, as it was the first time since their Duel Academy days that the Dragons of Justice were teaming up, that tickets were sold out in exactly an hours time.

Sitting at ringside were the families of the prestigious trio. Fujin who was cradling the Ring of Honor heavyweight belt in her arms like it was her firstborn child (who was also in attendance), gave Alexis a rather smug grin. The reason for that, was rather obvious. “So, all those years of giving Yuki guff about taking a championship belt everywhere he went, and now you’re doing it.”

“I believe the phrase, is the pot calling the kettle black da?” Tali giggled, while fixing Alexis with the same smug look as Fujin.

Alexis’ face was as bright red as a Slifer’s jacket. The reason for that was rather obvious. She had the prestigious NWA heavyweight title cradled in her arms. Having only a month before, defeated her uncle Dusty to claim the very belt she now held in her possession. “Oh shut up!”

Not only did both of her friends get a good chuckle out of her embarrassment, but so did their children. The three members of the Dragon Club: Asuka, Viktor, and Io all got a good laugh. Though the three young duelists didn’t dare say anything, as the three of them all had championship gold in their possession. Viktor and Asuka holding not only the Duel Academy tag belts, but also the NJPD Junior Tag Division belts. Asuka even held the AEW Dynamite Diamond. Something that must have clearly miffed MJF. Io herself held possession of the Duel Academy heavyweight title. The Blue/Galaxy-Eyes dragon duelist having won the belt within six months of entering Duel Academy.

“Ladies and Gentlemen...” Howard Finkle spoke into his microphone, much to the excitement of the sold out crowd in the Superdome. “It is time for this evening’s main event! Already standing in the ring: Maxwell Jacob Friedman/MJF.”

There was a resounding boo from the sold out crowd, when MJF was announced. The young cocky duelist turned his attention to glare at Asuka, and the young dragon duelist showed off the Dynamite Diamond ... which was on her middle finger. Something the crowd thoroughly enjoyed, judging by the resounding cheers that Asuka’s one finger salute to MJF got.

“...Brock Lesnar!” There were some boos from the crowd, but were slightly drowned out by the cheers. At least Lesnar had some respect, judging by who his rival was within the WWE. “And the Rainmaker! Okada Kazuchka!” The cheer that rang throughout the arena for a man who was arguably one of the best in the world, was deafening. In fact, it was a few minutes before the cheers and chants of “Okada” died down, and Finkle could speak into his microphone once again.

“And introducing their opponents...!” Suddenly, the lights in the arena go out, the jumbotron crackling to life with images of the bayou and cult-like symbols!

"New Orleans...... We're Here."

With a gentle breath, the lantern is extinguished and the Dragons of Justice appear at the entrance ramp, the arena still dark except for the “fireflies” that were the flashlights of the phones of those in attendance swaying back and forth to the beat of the song.

Jackson stood as the head of the trio. A red flannel shirt worn over his black tac-vest, and the lit lantern still clutched in his left hand. Kai stood behind Jackson, standing on his right, a well worn and cracked Blue-Eyes mask on his face. Yuki stood behind Jackson and to his left. His black tac-vest spray painted with “Join Dark Order on the front, and his right gloved hand was raised in the air. Mimicking the salute of the AEW faction, as an obvious tribute to the late Brodie Lee.

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flowerfan2 · 4 years

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Sexting for Dummies

McDanno, T, A03

Part 4 of Group Texts Are Forever

Summary: Steve and Danny are visiting Chin and his family in San Francisco, while Steve continues to recover from his injury. While Danny is out with Abby and Sara, Steve gets bored...

DW: What the hell was that?

SM: Can’t you tell?

DW: Are you actually for real?

SM: Last time I checked.

DW: I can’t believe you sent me a dick pic while I’m at the movie theater. Sitting next to Sara. A child.

SM: You’re not still sitting next to her, are you?

DW: No, you numbskull, I’m out in the hallway, lurking like a creeper and looking at that pic you sent.

SM: Then there’s nothing to worry about.

DW: Oh, I’m still worried.

SM: Why? You’ve seen Mulan a zillion times. Maybe even more than Charlie.

DW: It’s the new one, and that’s besides the point. You should have seen the look Abby gave me when I got up.

SM: Maybe you just needed to use the bathroom, what’s the big deal?

DW: I guess it might have been the sound I made before I got up that got her attention.

SM: Surprised you, huh?

DW: You could say that.

SM: I thought everyone sexted.

DW: What are you, twelve? We’re public servants.

SM: As if that ever stopped anyone.

DM: What if someone sees our phones? What if the governor sees our phones? What if you sent this on the group text by mistake?

SM: Please, I’m not the one that keeps using the group text by mistake. Plus I bet Tani would get a kick out of it.

DW: I am so not going there. Let us hold on to just a shred of professionalism and respect for our teammates.

SM: You didn’t like it even a little? I bet you did.

SM: Danny?

DW: I liked the idea behind it.

SM: See? Goal accomplished. You should come back to the hotel now.

DW: I can’t do that, the movie isn’t over.

SM: I’m bored.

DW: You could have come with, you said you had a headache. And not the sexy kind.

SM: I did have a headache. This one-eyed thing sucks and I keep squinting. But I bet you could make me feel better ;)

DW: I’m not leaving in the middle of the movie, they’ll think there’s a crisis.

SM: Crisis in my pants?

DW: Are you sure this text hasn’t been taken over? Is this the group text? Tani, show yourself or I’ll fire you.

SM: You can’t fire her.

DW: Until you come back home, I’m still in charge. I can fire her if I want.

SM: But you wouldn’t.

DW: Depends whether she is giving me shit on the group text.

SM: It’s not Tani, it’s me. I’ll prove it.

DW: Oh my god, you did not just do that.

SM: Figured that would prove it was me.

DW: Yeah, I guess it does. Unless Tani has them stored up somewhere.

SM: How the hell would Tani have multiple pics of my cock?

DW: She’s resourceful, I don’t know.

SM: I’m feeling like your focus is in the wrong place, here.

DW: Hey – I’m standing in the hallway of a movie theater surrounded by kids, talk about the wrong place.

SM: So come back to the hotel.

DW: I can’t come back to the hotel right now, I told you.

SM: Danny…

DW: But I might be able to help you out.

SM: You’ll send me a pic?

DW: I’m not about to pull down my pants and take a pic for you in the movie theater bathroom. Gross.

SM: So, then… what?

DW: Tell me what you’re wearing.

SM: You just saw me an hour ago, you know what I’m wearing.

DW: Do you want to play this game or not?

SM: Ok, fine. I’m wearing your NJPD t-shirt that you always bring when you come to rescue me, and gray sweatpants.

SM: Danny? You still there?

DW: Sorry. I didn’t realize you noticed. I didn’t even realize I did it, actually.

SM: You do. Depends upon how you define rescue, I guess. But I definitely remember you bringing it when you came to get me in D.C. last year.

DW: You put it on when I was in the shower, and then I didn’t have anything to sleep in.

SM: That turned out ok, as I remember.

DW: You have a fascination with my chest hair that I truly don’t understand.

SM: You’re fuzzy. I like it.

DW: Every man’s goal.

SM: Fuzzy over your hard, hot as hell pecs. Is that better?

DW: Aw, yeah. Thanks.

SM: You wanted to kiss me that night in the hotel in D.C., didn’t you?

DW: What do you think?

SM: I think you’ve wanted to kiss me for about as long as I’ve wanted to kiss you.

DW: How long is that?

SM: Ten years, give or take.

DW: Sounds about right. And yeah, that night was pretty tempting. I definitely wanted to kiss you.

SM: Why didn’t you?

DW: I don’t know… you were so freaking sad. It didn’t seem right.

SM: I liked sleeping with you, though. Curled up like that.

DW: Me too.

SW: Didn’t even know how much I needed it until you insisted on crawling into bed with me.

DW: No way was I sleeping on the pull-out sofa.

SM: Because you flew all that way in coach next to a mouth breather?

DW: Because you were so freaking sad.

SM: Oh. Yeah. I was.

DW: Hey, Steve?

SM: Yeah?

DW: If you ever have to go off without me again, can you find a way to keep in touch? Like this time?

SM: I couldn’t, when I was looking for Doris. You know that.

DW: I’m just saying, it was a little easier this time.

SM: You mean the group text worked? Don’t tell Tani, she’ll gloat.

DW: I still missed the fuck out of you. But at least most of the time I knew you were in one piece.

SM: I don’t know if I can promise that.

DW: Think about it?

SM: Yeah, okay. I will.

DW: Thanks.

SM: You know what?

DW: What?

SM: I’m really glad you kissed me in the hospital. In front of Kono and the whole world. You finally did it.

DW: I did, didn’t I?

SM: I’m sorry I freaked out after. But I’m really glad you did it.

DW: The freak out was understandable.

SM: Still I’m sorry.

DW: It’s ok.

SM: Someone had to do it. It was brave.

DW: Let’s not overstate it. I wasn’t really thinking. I just couldn’t help myself.

SM: So you admit sometimes acting without thinking is a good plan?

DW: Again, overstating.

SM: But you’re glad you did it.

DW: Kissed you last week? Obvi. Maybe I should have waited, though. Until we could talk about it.

SM: Nope. We’re terrible at talking. We’d have just not done it again.

DW: True.

SM: Hey, Danny?

DW: Yeah?

SM: Is this how people usually sext? There doesn’t seem to be much sex involved.

DW: You’re an idiot.

*****

SM: Danny, you still there?

DW: Sorry, hallway got crowded. Black Widow just let out. Had to find a new spot to lurk.

SM: Fair enough.

DW: I’m good now if you want to, you know.

SM: Jerk off and think of you?

DW: Wow, romance is dead.

SM: And honestly I already did it.

SM: Danny?

DW: We are useless.

SM: I could be ready for round two in a little while. Come back to the hotel?

DW: How about you shower and change and meet us at Chin’s for dinner?

SM: That doesn’t sound sexy at all.

DW: Are you nuts? Chin is sexy as hell.

SM: This is definitely not how sexting is supposed to work.

#mcdanno #sexting like idiots #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #H50 #Hawaii Five-O #H50 fic

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missreynheartbreakprinceben · 4 years

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i cant get out of my head the idea of steve wearing dannys njpd shirt that its a bit short for him (so you get a little peak of skin) and danny using steve navy shirt that of course its a little big for him

and if theres a fanart with those things i would really appreciate it if you link it to me so i could give the artist love and appreciation since im broke

#hawaii 5 o #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #mcdanno

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pantasticuser · 4 years

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Hello! This is an au my friend (@jalexa-jayjay-alexa ) made about our ocs. Mine is Hunter and hers is Tyler. Hope you enjoy!

-----------------------------------------

Hunter looked around at the dimly lit warehouse in which he was supposed to meet a person who would lead him to the place that would make his career. If he could somehow live through this anyway. How in God’s earth did he manage to get here one may ask. Honestly? Hunter didn’t know either.

Hunter was just another cop. Nothing special really. Though, he did try to make his way up the ranks over the four years he had spent slaving away either sucking up to his boss (which had failed) and ignoring the whispers and murmurs that sounded behind his back every time he left a room at the precinct.

Then finally, finally, he had gotten the chance to prove himself. Just a stroke of good luck. When he had heard of an operation to go undercover and destroy the Queen Mafia from the inside out, he hadn’t even hesitated. It just so happened that he was perfect for the job too. He had no family in the immediate area and he wasn’t seeing anyone so the risk of going into the operation was minimal. Well, if minimal meant the only thing he would risk losing was his own life.

The quiet crunch of snow brought Hunter back to the present, looking in the direction of where the noise had come from. A petite young man in a deep maroon jacket with fur along the edge of the hood approached, wearing black jeans to go with the jacket. He was significantly shorter than Hunter, enough to have him look down at the man.

He wore an emotionless expression as cold, dark blue eyes stared into Hunter’s apple green ones. Not much could be seen from him like this apart from his pale skin. “Are you the new recruit?” he asked bluntly.

Immediately, Hunter gathered himself and nodded as he focused on the task at hand. The man looked him up and down a bit before turning his back on him. He motioned for Hunter to follow as he walked away.

'A little ominous but okay,' he thought as he followed the stranger. This was it. Follow this guy to the headquarters and boom, easy two-month operation. This would all be worth it; he'd have the respect of the other officers in the department and maybe even a promotion if he was lucky.

As they walked away from the warehouse to a completely different area, Hunter couldn’t help but wonder who this silent stranger was. The air was tense as the silence continued between the two, the only sound heard being the crunch of the snow beneath their feet as they continued their walk.

After a few minutes of walking, the man lead Hunter to the docks nearby and all the way to the end of one port. As Hunter was lead further in he became acutely aware of two more sets of feet now heard behind him. Before Hunter could act, a very heavy hand rested on the back of his neck. He tensed as the hand wrapped around his throat. It wasn’t squeezing very hard, but the mere weight and size of it shook Hunter to his core.

The Stranger before him stopped and turned around, his face of indifference changed to a serious “I mean business” face. “Hunter. Serrano. Ellis. Did you really think that we would just let anyone into our ranks? The Queen family is no laughing matter, so tell me: what is a former officer of the law doing trying to do getting into our business?”

Hunter swallowed thickly and took a quick breath to steady himself. They knew this would happen. The Queen’s had eyes everywhere. Good to know that there really was a mole in the department. “I want to take down the NJPD. I have a score to settle with them,” Hunter recalled the harassment he had experienced there to make his tone sound angry. For one moment, one fleeting moment, Hunter felt as though he had meant it. He brushed that thought aside quickly. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

The man raised an eyebrow and stared for a few seconds, really thinking about Hunter’s words. “…Alright then. But, if you want our help, you’ll need to do things for us in return. Nothing comes free. Meet here tomorrow at 11 pm. You’ll be reporting to me for all future tasks until you're deemed ready for bigger jobs.” He held his hand out to Hunter for him to shake.

As he did so, the heavy hand was lifted, giving Hunter a bit of relief. As he walked forward to shake the outstretched hand, Hunter glanced back to see two men of an even bigger build than himself standing side by side. Hunter did Not want to upset them.

Hunter looked into unnamed man’s eyes as he shook his hand firmly. And just like that, the deal was made and the other raised his hood as he started walking away.

“Wait, what’s your name?” Hunter asked. The stranger turned to him from where he stood just a few steps away, the two bigger men already walking away from the two. “You know mine, so it’s only fair I at least know yours.

This seemed to amuse the man as he chuckled and turned away again. “The name’s Tyler. Tyler Queen.”

#myoc #friendsoctoo #mafia #fiction #ocs #original writing #original character

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veteranwithacamera · 7 years

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Worked for the Weehawken City Council yesterday photographing a police swear in. - Sony GMaster 24-70m - #sony #sonyimages #sonyalpha #cityhall #people #politics #weehawken #newjersey #freelancephotographer #newyorkphotographer #veteranwithacamera #police #swearingin #thinblueline #njpd #court #municipalcourt #picoftheday #instagood #government #njgovernment (at Weehawken Municipal Court)

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apprenticestanheight · 5 months

Note

Can I get number 10 "Will you marry me?" For Mark Hoffman? And maybe for Adam

Onions- Mark Hoffman x gn! reader

Hi!! I went ahead and did this one for Mark as I feel I don't write for him nearly enough, but if you'd like me to do this prompt with Adam, just feel free to let me know (be that through a response to this fic or an ask in my inbox! I don't know when it'll be done as I still have a lot of writing to get through before I consider myself on top of the reqs I currently have to do, but at the very least I can promise it'll be done either before christmas, on christmas, or the day after!)

Thank you for sending this one in and here's the obligatory but still wholly genuine apology--I am so sorry that this has taken me so long! A lot of the time things get buried in my inbox and that fact in combination with a bad record with object permanence usually go together in a rather inefficient way. Life has also just kind of done it's thing and demotivation has kind of kicked me in the back a little bit. While it sucks that I can't say that super long wait times for requests are out of the norm, I hope this one was worth the wait!!

Fic type- this is super fluffy!

Warnings- kissing happens a lot and sex is passively mentioned once. This fic is also edited but I've been awake for eleven hours and had written it while awake for something like fourteen so the editing might be a bit off regardless--I apologize if it is and if it is, please feel free to let me know and I'll fix it right up!!

In the week or so leading up to the proposal, Mark was doing everything he could to make it seem like nothing special was happening on the getaway he'd planned for the two of you that weekend.

You both worked in the precinct but in different areas--Mark was a detective and you worked with the CSI team--so keeping the news from spreading really wasn't all that difficult.

Perez and Strahm had been the only ones who knew a lick of Marks plan, and while Strahm had asked him teasing questions about the ring and the plan for the proposal with a shit-eating grin on his face, Perez seemed genuinely happy for him. She asked about the location and if he'd written some big, sappy speech, reminded him to make sure that all of the camera angles would be perfect and not unflattering, jokingly asked if she was invited and told him to ease up on the coffee during the week before the getaway as too much of it could cause jitters.

So then the weekend came and you and Mark drove to a cottage that had previously been owned by Marks parents in the outskirts of the city. They'd given it to him but he'd never had much cause to use it before that weekend, and he was glad to see that it was just as nice as it had been when he'd last seen it.

You settled in, objecting to spend that Friday night in nothing more than a pair of boxers and one of Marks old NJPD sweaters, hugging him from behind as he made dinner and you talked about anything except for work because of how exhaustive talking and thinking about work had become after how long that week had felt.

Mark was trying to search for the time to do it--the ring was in the pocket of his sweatpants, and you'd discussed proposals before anyway so he knew there was no big expectation to do it somewhere good or while wearing anything exceptional. Your plan for that weekend was mostly just to eat good food and have good sex and Mark had honestly planned to do the proposal somewhere after you'd accomplished both of those goals.

But, on a Friday night somewhere in December of the year 2004, your lips are pressing against the back of Marks shoulder and he can feel them spread out in a grin as your hands move to his hips, and you've been together for a decade and Mark is wondering why he didn't propose sooner.

"I love you," you whisper against the skin of his neck, laughing a little as you watch Mark brace himself by pressing his palms into the granite countertops.

"Will you marry me?"

Mark kind of hates the way it comes out--he wanted to at least have it somewhat planned before he popped the big question, not say it over a pan of onions that were in the process of caramelizing while the sky displays the dark of a Decembers four o'clock. He wanted to look at you while he asked, get down on one knee and at least try to do the old fashioned stuff.

"What?" You ask, laughing a bit more. "Mark Hoffman, are you playing some kind of cruel joke on me? I like it when you get funny but not like this."

"No," Mark rushes the words out. "No! I'm being serious--I swear I meant for it to be less spontaneous than this but your fucking lips--I wanna get married to you. I have a ring and everything, but you kissed me and you know how I'll get when you kiss me the right way. I promise I meant to propose in a more serious way, all right? Not while you're in one of my NJPD sweaters from when we first started dating and a pair of boxers I bought you for christmas so that you'd stop stealing mine to wear as shorts."

You let him go, step away.

"Well, if you're so serious about doing it properly, I invite you to go ahead," you're grinning, and Mark wants to kiss it off your face more than anything, but he doesn't. Instead, the cook in him turns to the pan as you take his hand in yours and interlace your fingers.

"The onions might burn--"

"They'll be fine without your eyes for a sec," your grin widens. "Mark--I appreciate that you proposed the way you did but if you're gonna make a stink about not being able to propose all proper and gentlemanly, then I invite you to do so. I promise I won't change my answer."

Mark snorts, gets down on one knee and pulls out the ring.

"Perez told me that a big, soppy speech would make you more likely to say yes but I never believed that," he takes a breath in. "I just want to emphasize that, well--we've been together for ten years now and I've wanted to marry you for at least four but work has been so busy that I haven't really gotten the chance to do it. I love you, Y/N, and that is why I'm doing this and why I was so hellbent upon doing it right."

"Yes," you blurt, grinning like an idiot.

Mark scoffs, laugh falling from his lips. "You made a stink about me making a stink about proposing wrong, and you've answered before I even asked!"

You laugh, covering your smile with your hand. Mark feels the urge to pull your hand away but doesn't, instead lets himself smile so hard that it hurts.

"Will you marry me?" He asks. "Will you make me the happiest guy in the history of the--well--ever, and marry me, Y/N L/N?"

"Mhm," you hum, nodding quickly. "Yeah, Mark Hoffman. Absolutely."

Mark rises, slips the ring onto your finger and hums as he pulls you into a tender kiss, palms resting on your elbows as he presses you lightly against the fridge.

You pull away, and both of you are grinning like idiots but that doesn't really matter.

What matters to you is the fact that Mark has just proposed, and you've accepted, which means that you're engaged. That fact alone is enough to make you elated, and such is what you feel as you go back to your previous position, Mark watching the onions and occasionally stirring while you hug him from behind, hands on his hips as your lips rest against the back of his shoulder.

Mark is grinning at the onions, just as elated as you. It is the perfect ending to a perfect night.

#mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #saw franchise #sawposting

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yourdailykitsch · 6 years

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“mdceleste “Taylor - thanks so much for coming out to support our "Face Off to Fight Cancer" charity hockey event! It was great to have you in the lineup along with players from the NYPD, NJPD, FBI and the NHL. It's always nice to meet others who share a passion for the game, as well as a desire to give back. You're the best! More pictures to come, stay tuned...”

#taylor kitsch #new york #hockey #charity event

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thisislakewood · 5 years

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→ IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character Name: Nolan Anderson

Character Age: 32

Faceclaim Choice: Sebastian Stan

Gender and Pronouns: Cismale & He/Him

Birthplace: Andover, NJ, USA

Birthday: November 3rd, 1986

Occupation: Police Officer

Family: IN FAVOUR OF The Stone’s

Position: Corrupt Cop

→ BIOGRAPHY

TW: Death, Abuse mention, Mental Illness, Cancer

Given up for adoption at the tender age of six months, Nolan was taken in by a loving couple, and was raised in upstate New Jersey. When Nolan hit middle school, he had lost his mom to lung cancer, which in turn led to an undiagnosed and untreated personality disorder on his end. Nolan eventually grew to despise his father, knowing very well that even though his mom wasn’t a smoker, his dad was— in fact—- a chain smoker. Nolan blamed him every day since the funeral and it nearly drove his adoptive dad insane. With his dad working all the time, Nolan never saw him, but was instead taken in by one of his adopted uncles, where he was both sexually and physically assaulted until he reached the age of eleven. When Nolan finally gave in and reported him, his uncle was hauled off to prison, and Nolan was immediately put into the system where he’d attend group therapy to voice his opinions to other youth that experienced similar things, and if it weren’t for his stubbornness, he would’ve went. Nolan became a very assertive person, even as a child. One of his defining moments was when he expressed discomfort in group therapy and insisted on seeing a private therapist on his own time. It was then that his guardians realized; he was incredibly content with independence.

During his time at his foster home, Nolan met one of best friends that would help him through thick and thin with the promise of everlasting friendship. Lori was like a sister to him, and wanted nothing more but to help him along his journey to get over his past. Despite everything he went through, Nolan still wanted a life of his own. Once he graduated high school, with honors, he quickly joined the NJPD as an officer of the law to which he studied for years to reach the top of his class, pushing himself to excel in every challenge that was thrown his way. Nolan was a local commodity amongst the people of the small town, constantly in the eye of the public, even awarded the key to the city, but when opportunity reared its head to the detective, he couldn’t possibly refuse. So he packed up, and took a job across the country to work in the homicide department for the LAPD. He quickly fell in love with the idea and knew it was time to move on from this small town. To see if this was the opportunity he needed in his life. With tearful goodbyes to his foster family, the town and his best friend, he packed his bags and booked a one-way ticket to the city of Angels.

Within the time he was there, Nolan made a name for himself as head of his department. His radical motivations and spontaneous decision-making made him ruthless and quick-witted. After meeting the love of his life, there was no telling where Nolan’s life was to go from there, but like always— life had other plans. His partner left him and he eventually sunk into depression, causing him to make life-threatening decisions on the job, to the point he’d applied to the Armed Forces for kicks. Leaving for duty one foggy morning, he left the memory of his first love, his dogs, and his life behind in better hands in hoping he’d return to find them all within reach.

Two and a half tours later, Nolan reached the top of his rank, surpassing every single one of his superiors with the scars to match. He lived his life through his work and usually drove himself into the ground trying to finish it. It became less of a service and more of a way of life. He lived for the animosity but mostly, he enjoyed how numb it made him.

He returned to Los Angeles shortly after his decommission to collect his belongings without anyone but his closest friends knowing, and decided another move was in order. A small town just North of Los Angeles took him in, allowing him to regain the strength he’d need to face the bigger cities again. During his time in that small town, Nolan fell hopelessly in love, but it wasn’t long until Nolan saw the face of his old flame in his new one. He needed to escape his past once and for all. San Francisco was his next stop, and it should have been his last stop. Bartending at a stragglers bar in the downtown centre, he wanted a quiet, mess-free life for himself where he wouldn’t hurt anyone else, and it would’ve been that way had he not taken his co-workers shift one evening. Fate had brought the two back together. They were engaged to be married within months, taking care of an unruly amount of dogs and resided in a large house that catered to them all. All that was left was to find a surrogate for a planned child they were to have and have Nolan rejoin the force. In a tragic turn of events, a close friend of Nolan’s had passed, leaving the man’s three year old daughter behind. Through court-hearings and an abundance of legal documents, Daisy Guerra soon became Daisy Anderson and took up residency with the couple.

The plan Nolan had in mind didn’t include a child until after the two were married, in fact, not until Nolan was sure he was going to get his job back. He craved being back on the force, but with the lives of his own he had to look after, that dream seemed so distant. He needed his life to be quieter, more relaxed to accommodate the ones he loved. Settling on a decision, Nolan uprooted his family in search to find them a new beginning, and for a short while, they did. They fell in love with the smaller towns dotting the map, using every excuse to settle down in each one they came across. He knew he’d have to start small again, but with a small reassurance from the sleepy towns and his perfect family, he knew he wouldn’t have to go too far to prove he was serving and protecting again, especially with his family’s word right behind him.

Things were perfect— but that perfection had lasted less than a year and a half. Their marriage crumbled and Nolan left. For the past few years, he had nothing left to do with the other man or their daughter— and he preferred it that way. He returned to Afghanistan to finish duty for the last time before he was hauled back to the states where he was to begin anew. His sister taking pity on him, offered him Rosie, the twin sister of her son Thorn. Nolan gladly accepted his niece with open arms, knowing full well second chances were rare.

Living out his days with his daughter at his side, he knows he would do anything and everything to protect her from the cruel world around them. He distances himself from anyone trying to get close in fear of becoming attached. Even with hopes of finding love again, he just hopes fate and circumstance don’t come back to bite him in the ass.

→ PERSONALITY SUMMARY

+ Positive Traits: Intelligent, Charismatic, Adaptable. - Negative Traits: Arrogant, Self-Destructive, Bipolar.

#sebastian stan #mature rp #literate rp #semi appless rp #gang rp #mental illness tw #abuse tw #cancer tw #death tw #taken #civilian

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heavyburdensofficial · 6 years

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[REDACTED] | Intermission 3

Episode 1 || Episode 2 || Episode 3 || Intermission Collections

It is advised that you read all of Episode Three and Intermission Two before beginning this intermission.

“Where the hell is she?!"

His hands shook as he held the phone against his ear. He swallowed hard, to the point to where it hurt. He struggled to make a sound to answer her demand. The only things he would muster were stuttered and shaky sighs.

“Where the fuck is my sister, Nate?!”

Her tone against the speaker was so harsh it caused him to flinch. She had every right to be mad, but he had never experienced or even dealt with this kind of anger. It was to the point to where he was scared to speak.

“I-I don’t know. I truly don’t. Everything just went wrong, I—“

“Don’t give me that shit. You know exactly where she is, don’t you? You knew exactly what the dangers were, you knew that she’d be in trouble. And yet, you still fucking did it! My sister is missing because of you! My sister is gone because of your incompetence and lack of reasoning and patience!!”

The words hurt. He felt a knot in his stomach and his heart sank. He wanted to scream, but out came the tears from his eyes instead. He could feel himself begin to rock back and forth as he sat on the staircase. His legs bounced up and down, his nerves going haywire. His mind raced and he began spouting any and every apology he could think of.

“I’m sorry, Jazz. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Not at all. I—“

“And you expect me to believe that? You tricked me! You broke my trust! You had me believing that you were helping her by keeping a close eye on her. But you just used her! Like she was some sort of pawn! She had just got out of rehab and you had the absolute nerve to pull her back into the drug ring, because of your sick infatuation with this case. I don’t know what kind of best friend you are, but you should be absolutely ashamed of yourself, Nathaniel!”

“I’ll find her! Please, Jazz. I’ll make up for it! Even if it’s the last thing I do! I will find her!”

“No. You’ve done enough. The rest of NJPD will take care of this. Consider yourself on leave until further notice. And don’t you dare step foot in the station. Good-bye.”

He sat still, listening to the end-call beep in his ear.

Something broke.

He wasn’t exactly sure what caused him to act out in such a fashion. But he did. His hands weren’t shaking, his body wasn’t tight. His thoughts slowed, forgetting his worries and regrets until all he could hear in his head was a dissonant sine wave. The ringing he’d become too familiar with.

He couldn't hear much of anything else as he walked back to his apartment. He couldn't hear the monotonous beeping of his spare cell phone. He didn’t bother listening to the arguments against his idea from the other side of the phone. All he wanted to know if they were still in the plan to get her back. Yes, he knew he fucked up bad, but he could resolve this. Right? Nothing was going to get in his way from getting Jiji back, even if he had to do this alone.

“Are you nuts?! I’m not letting you go there by yourself, Nate! Listen,” he paused. “O-okay, I know a guy on the inside. Maybe he’ll know where those assholes dragged her off to. I don’t know, but it’s better than you busting in and getting killed yourself.”

“But are you still in this?” he asked back, the amount of vitriol in his voice rising unnaturally. The other side stammered in agreement, taken aback by the growls. That’s what he thought.

“Nate...are you sure about this? You don’t seem to be in the right mindset anymore, ever since this case got nasty. I mean, you even put your own friend on the line to get somewhere and now you’re bringing me in, too? Think about this, Nathaniel.”

“What’s there to think about, Connor? A quick scheme: get in, get out. I’ll gun down anyone that gets in my way of getting her back. If I also solve the case while I’m there then bonus points. Now, stop lecturing me and get to the stakeout point and contact your man. I want to finish this.”

Connor tried to argue back but was quickly silenced by the end of the call. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. He had a best friend to get back. He was going to correct his mistake and make sure everything was back to normal like before. And nothing was going to stop him.

II.

Treachery. It was like he was conditioned to follow every order, he’d been with him for so long. It felt like treachery going after the boy behind his back. He had had enough, he thought. The maniac had used an innocent man and picked him off like he was nothing, despite him risking his life and limb for him. He was over it, over this.

Despite him not wanting any more of it, he had to be covert. The smoker parked outside of the home, blocking the driveway. This was last order he needed to follow, just enough to get his boss off his heels. He knew the boy resided here for the time being; a commonplace he visited before the tragic event. The smoker tried his best to move him as far away from this town as possible, but somehow, in some mysterious way, the boy always found himself back here. Subconscious attachment, he assured himself, but he knew that wasn’t the complete truth. It was also His doing.

The smoker took in the last drag of his cigarette and crushed the butt into the center console before stepping out into the cold. His seeping smoke mixed with his warm breath creating a bellow of smog. He could never get used to the cold when it came around, so accustomed to the southern heat. He took another breath, the stiff air drying his mouth, and stepped onto the concrete leading to the front porch. With each step he recited his plan, making sure he says everything that needs to said. But knowing the boy, or better yet not knowing, something might throw this for a loop. The boss had always praised him for his improv (or more aptly, bullshitting). He just hoped for the best and prepared for the worst.

The smoker stepped onto the porch and paused, rehearsing once more. He cleared his throat and raised his fist to knock on the door, but his knuckled missed completely as the door swung open in a panic. The boy looked pallid, diseased almost, and scrawny compared to the built man he was tucked under.

“Oh, uh, good evening, Mr. Shou,” the smoker said, but backed out of the way as Mr. Shou pushed forward in a hurry. Of course, it had to go awry, but he could still save it. The smoker explained what he was told to say by the Boss: that his husband has gone missing and was presumed dead. He was used to lying and impersonation, he’d done it for years, but for some reason, this one struck him harder than the others. And seeing the distraught look on Mr. Shou’s face didn’t help matters either.

He couldn’t help but hesitate a bit as Mr. Shou tried to tuck the boy under his arms again, moving purely out of shock, shaken by the news. But it needed to be done, according to the boss. And if there was one thing the smoker always believed in, it’s that some things just needed to happen. So he waited when he pulled out the gun. He had Mr. Shou’s chest in sight when he aimed. But he waited. He knew the boy would throw himself over him. Subconscious attachment, he told himself. And that’s when he shot.

He watched as the pool of the drug poured into the snow, melting it and leaving a murky red patch on the ground. He stood still as Mr. Shou, crawled over to the boy in a panic, screaming for him to stay alive. He wanted to reassure that the boy would be fine. He couldn’t die after all. He wouldn’t let him until this business is finished. Instead, the smoker walked down the stairs, past the bleeding boy and pulled his phone out, dialing the second of two contacts in his phone. He stopped at the edge of the driveway and pressed the speaker to his ear.

His hands shook as he listened to the monotonous beeping of the line. Not because of the cold, but because of the man that stood in front of him. He swallowed stiffly, the cold air suddenly unbearable. The man in front seemed to tower over him even from a distance, his “work” uniform tight around his chest and his gloved hands bound into a fist.

The other side of the phone call finally answered. “Morrison, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” The boss yelled furiously.

“U-uh, Boss?” Morrison’s voice shook as he responded. “We’ve got a problem.” He watched as the gloved man walked closer to him and passed by, his blue eyes staring at him coldly while that stiff smile of his faltered slightly. It wasn’t Him, but Morrison had reason to be afraid—they were in the exact same position: a grunt that does all the dirty work for their bosses’ plans. But Morrison felt inferior, seeing as the gloved man was the lackey of a God.

“Is worse than your fuck up?”

“Much worse. Did you know that He has been working from the inside?” He stared at the man as he walked up to Mr. Shou and the boy, offering assistance. There was an unsettling pause, as the boss’ anger died and Morrison’s suspicions rose.

“Yes.”

#heavy burdens update #intermission #original fiction #writing #writers on tumblr

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