this has been hiding in my drafts for over a week whoops

I’m God, I’m Always Watching

Pairing: Rob x Reader

Word Count: 606

Warnings: talk of pregnancy. It’s not that graphic. Swearing.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing Rob Benedict. We’ll see how it goes! This is something that I’ve had in my drafts for a while, and I’ve been looking for an excuse to post this, until I hit 150 followers! here is my thank you to all of you wonderful people who decided to follow me.


You were sitting on stage at a panel with Kim, Brianna, Osric, and Ruth when your water broke.

You tried to hide it the best you could, but the pain was getting to be a little too much. You looked to your left and saw Clif standing at the side of the stage.

You discreetly waved him over and he walked on to the stage,

“What’s wrong?” the bodyguard asked next to your ear.

You made sure the mic was by your side as you answered, “Get Rob, please. It’s urgent.”

Keep reading

Rizzoli & Isles, 5x08 (once again)

I guess, thenicecheese was right – the only way to write a review for 5x08 is to do it while still enjoying a buzz. So, let’s do this before I’ll run out of wine. How about some music to get us into the mood? Here, have some Dropkick Murphys – and for the record, this is NOT the show’s theme song, no matter how often some acoustically challenged fans claim it was.

We begin with a little PSA: Smoking is bad for you! Like, lethally bad. I’ll count that opening as a plus because, given how many young viewers are watching, it’s always good to sneak in some health advice.

But enough with the foreplay, let’s switch to the reason why we’re all watching the show, which is Jane and Maura and—wait, what?

Oh, boy. It’s – quite literally – a boy! No offense. Gjokaj is cute and all. But can’t he grow a beard or at least some stubble so he’ll look old enough to be allowed into a bar at night?

Leaving superficialities aside, here comes the writers‘ first ginormous blunder. In case you’ve forgotten: We had to spent half of last week’s episode cancelling our date with Mr. Jack (sorry, the name Armstrong and his babyface simply refuse to go together in my mind), and the writers made a huge deal about Jane finally meeting him.

And now? We’re already in the middle of the conversation! No awkward introductions. No “not a hugger” scenes. Nothing. All the setup from last week for nothing.

Instead, we get to hear the lame old “whoops, my fly was open” story. I’m so glad I had wine to keep me entertained.

So, let’s move o– … hold on, what? Jane and Maura went camping? In the Adirondacks? What the heck? Have the writers stolen my fanfic draft again? (No, I’m not currently working on a story that includes J&M staying at the Sagamore. Not at all. Move along. Nothing to see here.)

So, finally, we get a glimpse into what the show used to be. High-fives everybo—what? Oh… we don’t get to hear the story? No? Ohhh… I’m just… I… excuse me for a minute…

Well, we’ll always have the Adirondacks, right? At least in our minds…

That’s strike 1, writers!

Fine, let’s deal with the crime then. Apparently, this week’s motto is “Let’s pretend we’re making a cop show.” And a very serious one at that! 

There’s something about a dead (ex-)husband who was playing “I spy with my little eye” – except that he won’t be spying anything ever again. Oh, well… I think I’m supposed to pay attention but I’m still wondering what the embarrassing camping story might have been. Your bad, stupid writers. Don’t throw me a bone and withhold the steak!

Uh, steak… yummy! Wait, sorry, getting distracted…

Anyway, now we get to meet the new team member. Nina Holiday. I wish some of the writers would take off for some not-so-well-earned holidays and let me handle this. Ah, wishes can come true, right?

Nope, not on this show.

So, supposedly, Nina is hiding a little secret but has a clean slate. Let me guess: domestic abuse? Got raped? Lost a loved one in the line of duty? Yeah, it’s gotta be one of the classics. Just wait and see.

What’s most important about this scene though is another fabulous display of the writers’ laziness. Let me quote Frankie: “Welcome to Beantown, Nina Holiday.”
The thing is: No serious Bostonian calls the city “Beantown.” Why didn’t Russ Grant point that out? I thought he used to serve at the real BPD? Oh, wait, I bet he was busy taking buttcrack pictures, eh? Ah, too bad…

Let’s make up for this with some beautiful pictures from Boston, because at this point, that’s one of the main reasons why I watch the show. Look at the pretty:

More pretty. Oh, look, it’s the Constitution Marina in the background. Wanna read a fic about it?

And more pretty. (Oh look, it’s the Massachusetts State House, where Maura’s boss works!)

And more pretty. (You saw that one coming, didn’t you?)

Did I mention I love baseball? And Fenway Park?

Well, let’s move on. That magic enhance button has another appearance (me thinks, it’s getting more screentime than Maura…), Korsak once again reminds those who never want to accept it that Maura works for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and we learn that Korsak’s batting average was pretty bad. I’d totally play him for a few rounds of beer.

Speaking of alcohol, somehow I made it through the next scenes thanks to some fabulous wine. We get a few talking heads (the writers have learned NOTHING from last week’s disaster), then Jane meets Nina (because, obviously, that’s so much more interesting than letting Jane meet Jack for the first time), there’s more talking, and some computer magic and more talking. Whatever.

And finally, after more than ¼ is over, there’s a glimpse of what this episode could’ve been. We finally get a ticking clock – the big bad guy is determined to kill all witnesses. It’s a race against time! It’s exciting! It’s—

Oh, wait, we’ll have to interrupt this program for a completely meaningless never-ending little scene between Jane and Angela and a coffee-stained baseball. Initially, I thought this would be a little setup leading Angela to the realization what her new job could be, but nope, the scene was only in there to, uh, well… make me drink more wine?

That’s strike 2, writers!

We make another quick stop at the Boston Talking Heads Department, and then things get finally exciting again because we can talk more about that baseball and how to keep it clean. It’s so important. Seriously! The writing on my two baseballs has worn off, too. I really need to know how to fix this. Here’s the rest of what was important about this scene.

 

Never mind that Maura is a supersmart, successful, independent woman. Let her talk about bathtubs and baseballs. That’ll keep the annoying Maura fans happy, right? NO, FOR PETE’s SAKE! NO.

Anyway. More talking heads. Blablabla.

And then we get an eeeeeendless scene of Jane trying to convince the quota idiot on today’s episode to give her some information-whatever. About Tasha. Or Santa Claus. Or I dunno. I don’t care anymore at this point. Remember that the clock is ticking? Well, apparently it’s broken now…

And that’s strike 3, writers! You’re out!

*Sigh.* If only…

Well, finally, after ¾ of the episode are over, we get more of the stuff that could have been so great.

A containment thriller. Being stuck in the building. Getting shot at. Hell yeah! That’s the stuff that good and Emmy-worthy shows are made of.

But sadly, most of it is – once again – wasted potential.

Just imagine how great it could have been if the killer and Jane had played cat-and-mouse in/around the elevator. You know, going up and down… Shots being fired at the elevator door… The killer trying to get in instead of Jane trying to get out…

Oh, what a great and tension-filled episode it could have been.

But, alas, the most tension is derived from the fact that Jane – a homicide detective trained to pay attention to every frickin detail at crime scenes – conveniently forgets where she got out of her car so that we can delay the arrival of the cavalry.

That’s strike 4, writers!

Yes, I’m totally inventing new baseball rules for so much laziness on the part of the writing team.

And finally – thank God, I still have some wine left – we get the dramatic ending, which isn’t so dramatic after all thanks to the lamest lines ever given to a genius like Maura Isles: “You did good, Jane. You did really good.”

Gaaawd, even the newest member of my screenplay feedback group would’ve come up with a better line. In fact, in this case, NO WORDS AT ALL would have been an even better choice. THIS would have been the perfect occasion for their eyes saying everything that words would never be able to express.

STRIKE 5, writers!

And STRIKE 6 and STRIKE 7! Just for good measure.

And just like that, we’re already done with this episode that was supposed to be so amazing.

I have no words left. And no wine.

There’s much more that could be said. About how they messed up Jack’s story arc… About how they could’ve sped up half of all scenes by getting rid of unnecessary staring and stating the obvious… About so much more….

But at this point, it feels like a lost cause with those writers.

Well… at least we know that Maura is still part of the show… sort of. Just to make sure we all remember her face, here she is again:

*sigh*