From what I remember, the last season of The Closer involved massive problems for the team due to a leak, which, if I remember rightly, was due to Gabriel talking a bit about a case to his girlfriend, who turned out to be a mole.
And the whole squad was up in arms about it, and it was made very clear that talking about cases to people outside the squad was a bad thing?
Why has Rusty been allowed to run wild around the murder room for five seasons, sticking his nose into basically any case he wants to? Isn’t that, like, completely the opposite of what the final season of The Closer showed us is appropriate behavior in the LAPD? Why does Sharon, the woman who spent the whole of her time in The Closer displaying the most incredibly professional behavior in every way, and encouraging it in others, allow him to do this?
Continuity is not a strong point here, unless it’s endless unfunny jokes about Badge of Justice.
so like tbh i do not have another blog that i could use to post my writings honestly. so im using this blog. i wanted to write angst, and who else to write about than my fave cowboy hubby, mccree. no one really knows exactly how he lost his arm, we just know it was in his blackwatch days, so yeah, young, scared, traumatized mccree came to be. this might be triggering for some people, so don’t read it if you don’t like blood, because that is in this. welp this is my first real addition to this fandom, so hope you enjoy :3
Training had been so easy. He’d complained so fucking much, but it had been such a cakewalk compared to this. He hadn’t been ready to go out on the field, no matter how cocky he might have been about it at first. He realized how stupid he was.
I know you to believe you know me, But what you know is fragmentary.
A castle so imaginary Stands tall, becoming arbitrary In its restrictions and convictions; Have you quite found all the distinctions Between your demise and salvation? For in the tower which you reside I always found you tangled inside A web which you had long since woven. Yet your predators had left that sin Alone; you waited to speak again So that you could say your surrender.
I always brought my ladder along To climb, singing my song; I sat and gave you my company, But always, you sang my song off-key. And to that web, you were stuck tightly Because you did not try to break free; Yet you still sang of your woes to me.
You claim it to be a fleeting dream, Whatever I had managed to bring; You wish to be grounded with your head In the cloud that is that spider’s web.
I climbed, I slipped, I fell, while you stayed Still; still, I sought you out, unafraid. I wrote you a million love letters, But people made you hate “forever"s As your patience dwindled in waiting For long lost promises of saving From that web you had woven for them.
You were waiting for them, and not me, And whatever those past-lives could bring, So my persistence in escaping The tower that was wrongly shaping That mind that spun and spun endlessly Seemed little more than a flimsy scheme To build reality from a dream. I stood firm, immovable in spite Of your oppositions, defying fights; I never truly prepared for flight, Returning to make my wrongs a right.
Now I see our failure quite clearly: Your illusion of reality. So here I sit before your tower Wondering if you have the power To make the descent down the ladder Independently to accompany Me - to see where this journey can lead.
This is part of my Drabble Game and is written for @increasinglyweird
Prompts: ‘He held her for what felt like decade.’ and “It just…hurts.”
Ilona was numb. She could not hear the voices surrounding her, or taste the food in her mouth, nor could she see through the haze of shock threatening to boil over in tears. All she could do was sit and stare at the dark stones of the wall. Even as those around her shared in congratulatory mirth, she could not be shaken from her trance. Her breath barely kept coming as the news sunk like an anvil on her shoulders, weighing her down, crushing her beneath it.
Fili was smiling. That was what had hurt her deepest. When Thorin had told of his engagement to Andra of the Iron Hills, the rusty-haired dwarrow from the cousin kingdom. Oh, that smile had caused pain she could have never imagined. And Andra entering in her sapphire blue gown of cutout brocade over silver silk, looking more radiant than any dwarf should. It had all brought Ilona’s doom down upon her.
So out of the big 5 founding fathers George Washington is the only one not to have a formal education, His writing suffers greatly from it and often had his generals, and aids write for him.
This is the first comic in a series I hope to do more of. Basically it’s just Washington shirking his duties to help America write his weekly letter to England his aids (just to showcase their different personalities.)
This is Henry Knox and he was super polite and good mannered. Out of Washington’s generals he was the most pleasant and hardly (if ever) argued with Washington. Basically Washington would give him a job and Henry Knox would do it with no complaints and do it well. He also was great at parties and in conversion.