If Jeremy And Michael Knew Each Other, Don't You Think The Bites Would Feel Rather Similar?

having some lunch and then I'm in the mood to write!!

Renfield, 2023

EMILY PRENTISS in THE RED TANK in CRIMINAL MINDS 3x03 | 'Scared to Death'

dinner soon then more writing 😈 i wanna get loads of replies done now bc i plan to play tlou later

having some lunch and then I'm in the mood to write!!

this clip felt soooooo lip gallagher coded

(source)

Disney muses are in the process of being added, lots are already on the muse list

severance muses also need to be added

@experimentx628 cont

JJ thanked whatever entity out there that the office was currently empty, save for their team. They'd just gotten back from a case, dropping off relevant files and paperwork before a well-deserved rest, and someone had jokingly mentioned how it would easier if they had another Morgan around to ease the amount of file boxes they had to carry.

Big mistake.

ONE Derek Morgan could be enough, let alone ten of him cluttering the office. Especially since each one seemed to be dumber than the last. How were they making less progress now? Jennifer sighed, hands settling upon her hips.

Blue gaze directed towards the companion beside her, eyebrow raised. " How exactly do we fix this? " The blonde questions tiredly, hoping there was an easy solution.

does anyone else watch the rig or am i a lone soldier

The sounds of the motion alarms being triggered had pulled the two men away from their lunch. Bill immediately grabbing his shotgun whilst Frank checked the cameras – a girl, young, being pursued by a large group of men. Whilst the pair tried to not get involved with outsider drama, it was difficult to ignore when it was outside your gates.. and when the victim was a poor young girl. Bill's morals may be shaky, but it didn't sit right with him at all.

Immediately, the couple was making their way to the gate. The girl's screams echoed in the distance, like an animal caught in a trap. A helpless sound, one of primal fear and desperation. Without hesitation, Bill raised his shotgun and aimed at the man closest to the fence. Then the next, and the next –

Frank, hands trembling, put in the gate code as fast as humanly possible. Barely waited for it to open before he pushed through, zeroing in on the girl. Gaze darts to her limping leg, the blood on her clothes as he grabs her as gently as possible, helping her back inside.

The last of the shots ring out, an eerie silence falling over them as Bill lowers his gun, gates closing with an affirming rattle. The couple exchange a look, a silent conversation. An ' are we really doing this? ' before Frank inhales sharply, kneeling down beside the girl.

Reaching out to touch her was a rookie mistake and he instantly pulls his hand away. Shushes her gently, holding his hands up to placate her. " I'm sorry, that was a poor move on my part, you don't need to apologise. " Frank keeps his voice soft, light. Concern fills his features at the sight of her injured leg. " That looks like it hurts – we have medical supplies, can patch you up if you'd like. Give you a bite to eat, somewhere to sleep, at least until you're better? " He gives her a choice - doesn't want to push her into staying with them, not if she's uncomfortable. " Or we can call some friends we have in the QZ... they could come get you, take you to shelter there. Your choice, no pressure. "

@fracturals x Bill & Frank She had been about to touch the fence so she could climb and run when the man had slammed into her, her fall making him tumble forward and hit the fence for her, electrocuting him with an unexpected explosion. But just when she thinks she can at least keep running she's grabbed again and lets out a blood-curling scream, adrenaline making her fight back and fall down with the other man.

She shrieks again, horrified, knowing his friends are coming, her flamethrower is empty, uselessly weighting on her shoulder, but she still tries to crawl away. She's never been so happy to see someone's head get blown off - though yeah, she's definitely adding that to the list of nightmares that also make her scream like that - and looks for the culprit, finding two men at the other side of the fence. They are also strangers, but beggars can't be choosers, and she doesn't even really get to beg for help because the one with the shotgun starts taking people out just like that. The other one, though, the other one opens the fence and comes to get her, looking worried. She's stunned, almost falling but held up so she can run on her injured leg, blood everywhere - hers, theirs - and terrified, but they let her in. They let her in. She barely realizes she's crying as the sounds of the fight die down, and her first reaction when one of their hands come too close to her again is to protect herself from the blow. The second one is to say "Sorry" because it can't be nice to be treated like savages when they just saved her, and "Thank you."

Dark curls bounced as Layla strode into the coffee shop, an air of confidence that didn't match the way her stomach churned the whole journey there. She knew the risks of meeting with people outside of her contacts, people she didn't know let alone trusted. But a friend of sorts knew someone that was suited for her needs, and Layla couldn't exactly be picky right now.

Not when Marc had just up and left. Disappeared completely, turned off his phone and cut contact with both her and Duchamp. Layla could feel in her gut that something was wrong – and she wasn't going to stop searching for her husband. Not even after the divorce papers had arrived in her mail. At their home, of all places.

She easily spotted the man she was there to meet, but allowed her dark gaze to drift by him. Instead strode up to the counter, ordering some sweet syrupy latte from the friendly barista. When Layla finally sat down, it was with a steaming takeaway cup in her hands and a determined look on her face.

" I've been told you're good at finding people, " the words leave her mouth immediately, not caring for introductions or small talk. This was important. " And I've got someone who needs to be found. Interested? " She raises her eyebrows, taking a sip of her drink.

@fracturals

Frank sat alone at a small table in the corner of the bustling café, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee surrounding him. He absently stirred his drink, his eyes scanning the entrance for any sign of the person he was supposed to meet. Micro had hinted that this individual either held critical information or had a job for him, one that could potentially change everything. As he waited, an uneasy feeling crept in.

Frank was well aware of the risks involved; if the meeting felt off, he would leave without hesitation. He casually adjusted the collar of his jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of a knife in his pocket and another concealed in his boot. Typically, he wouldn't venture out without his gun, but he opted for the knives this time. They were more discreet and would allow for a quicker getaway if things turned sour.

He took a careful sip of his coffee, the warmth spreading through him, and watched patrons chatted and laughed, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension that sometimes filled the air. Frank’s instincts were sharp; he knew to trust them. He focused on the door, every passing moment stretching his anticipation, as he waited for whatever—or whoever—might come next.