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imbadatparking · 1 year ago

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The Wither’s

“The Ol’ Wither’s house ain’t nothin’ but snow and coal, now.

The gray winter pulls on its hinges and clings to it like rust on metal. The paint thickens and peels off like cracked nails, revealin’ molded wood underneath. The planks splinter and lay worn by the passage of time. It sags off the frame, like pale, dead skin too heavy for brittle bones. The windows that haven’t yet broken are cracked and half-boarded. They glow an eerie blue, curtains darkenin’ the light that tries to escape. The wind pushes against it, causin’ it to tremble.

The surroundin’ overgrown weeds grow in tangled clumps, lost in the grass that hadn’t been mowed in over a lifetime. Damn shame too – my grandaddy used to tell stories of the beautiful sunflowers that there yard used to grow, their thick, beautiful stalks that shot up to ten feet tall, the way their mustard gold petals turn towards the sun in youthful yearnin’. Now, the only thing that grows there is them vines, full of malicious intent, and there ain’t no sun they can turn too.

The dark oak front gate groans when the wind gets too heavy, a warnin’ against those foolish enough to approach. They’re a rare bunch, but they tend to come in abundance. The trouble-makin’ youngins who get adrenaline rushes from triple dog dares, teeterin’ on the edge of brave or just plain stupid; squatters that leave cigarette butts littered across the already gross property; CPS and CVS and all the other nonsense government spies with sticks up their asses and an itch to scratch. Jameson, who doesn’t know the difference between black and white, is certain the latter’s been comin’ ‘round just to find somethin’ wrong. I’m inclined to believe him, just this once – I can’t be the only one who’s seen them pokin’ around poor Molly’s trailer. It ain’t her fault she’s livin’ disability check to disability check.

Ain’t nobody ever been inside, and those who say they have are just flat-out lyin’. Everybody knows of the rot that sets in every year. The heat must be too much for the old wood, and the smell that wafts off it is like nothin’ I’ve ever encountered. It smells bad enough that the police did an investigation on it a while back. Someone said there musta been dead bodies in the walls, but when they tore apart the inside, the only thing they found was those nasty maggots. Apparently them nasty critters had been there for months.

The ‘Withers? Well, nobody really talks about ‘em no more. They’re just an ol’ part of this town’s lore. And, well, we’re not really sure how true their stories are, see –? They’re ghosts, now, too lost and sad to let go.

Between you ‘n me, they were an odd couple. Jamie and Sarah were the parents, the ones who started the beginning of the end of the Withers’ legacy. They’d inherited the two-story from Sarah’s grandparents – her father had earned it from his father, had earned it from his mother. you know how it goes. Who knows who owned it first, or how long ago it was built. Apparently it’s been such a state since their daughter went up and left to become some big city hotshot. She hadn’t been the same since her brother died in that fatal accident.

Terrible thing, the way that family attracted tragedy like nobody’s business. Or everybody's business, if you live ‘round here. Some people just can’t handle it. They drift away, dreamin’ of becomin’ somethin’ like an artist or a singer or a poet, and they end up dead, addicted to drugs, or back at the gates of this town, beggin’ to be let back in. You know how it goes – we all do. It’s the same song and dance.

It's just unfortunate that the house has got to be the one to pay for it, just sittin’ there, witherin’ away. Us too, of course. Whatever happens to one family in this town, affects the rest of us.

But those are just rumors and you didn’t hear nothin’ from me. All that really matters, all we really know, is that that house right there has more ghosts than a cemetery.

Some say it’s the same place where Missy Felps went and died – her innocence stolen like a final breath before drownin’. Her pinky piggytails were the only trace of her left behind, ‘cept for the stories the kids around the block whispered with exaggerated terror. Missy’s fate was left to be told by those with too wild of imaginations and middle schoolers with too much time on their hands. The adults ‘round here pretty much know better, keepin’ their mouths locked and sealed ‘bout secrets untold, as they should. Ain’t nobody want anybody talkin’ ‘bout them as Missy is talked ‘bout, so most had the half-mind and empathy to look the other way.

Missy had been the ripe age of six when her screams echoed through these ivy-clad streets. That night, the lights flickered low and yellow as they turned on, their dull glow illuminatin’ hopelessness and danger. Neighbors had run out into the street as the ambulance had wailed loud enough for the next town over to hear. News of her death had been known straight to Atlanta by the time mornin’ time had come. The sky had been colored in a hazy mix of oranges and pinks, and her headstone had been a black shadow ‘till the sun came out.

Most of the story had come straight from Missy’s ol’ neighbor, Georgia Smith.

I’m not one to talk ill on a lady, but Aunty Georgia could hardly be considered as such. She has more words to say than she outta be allowed. She didn’t just run the gossip mill – she created it. You can hear her whispers carryin’ through the cold wind if you listen hard enough. Her weathered hands knit the tales that laysthe foundation of this town like they knit her sweaters ‘n scarves ‘n gloves. She always sits in that same rockin’ chair, an ominous creak as she rolls forward, echoed by an ominous creak as she rolls back. She has as many stories ‘bout her as she’s created – kids sayher one blind eye was the reason she knew everythin’, that she was the one who killed the stray tabby that’d turned up in her front yard, that her wealthy, white collar grandson was threatenin’ to send her into one of them mental institutes – but nothin’ could be considered true, ‘less it came straight from her mouth.

Yeah, she’s one person to be wary of, especially around your secrets. Nobody outta blame her, though, Lord knows that mansion’s been awful empty since her good-for-nothin’ husband up and left her. You know, all her kids are adults by now, out in the real world. Empty nest syndrome ain’t for the faint of heart, and she’s had that condition for years now. Most the town’s got their bets placed on the day she clocks out and never clocks back in. Jameson says she’ll last ‘till May, but there’s no way she’ll survive past April.

No matter – the town’ll find a new Aunty Georgia once the mournin’ is done and the everyone’s done well to move on. There was an Aunty Georgia before I got here, and I’ll be damned if there ain’t when I leave. There always is, there always be. That’s the way things work ‘round here.

Don’t worry if you’re not used to it yet, sometimes it takes a while. New soil, new roots – we all get it. Though, most of us ‘round here have been ‘round here since pretty much the beginnin’ of time. Ain’t no reason to leave. We got a market and a gas station, and that’s all we need. None of those fancy academics with their billion dollar homes – makes the charm of this place dwindle and the economy crash.

In this town, life unfolds like the lazy river that runs along the fields of cotton and sunflowers. The drawl of conversation is as slow as the molasses in the sweet tea, and always has been – ain’t no point in rushin’ when we're all goin’ the same destination.

After all the Withers’ ain’t the only place where there’s ghosts, and they won’t be lonely for long. That’s just a fact of life.”

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vialott · 18 days ago

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10 Tips voor Effectief Personeel Werven in 2024

Het vinden van het juiste talent blijft een uitdaging, vooral in een concurrerende arbeidsmarkt. In 2024 wordt personeel werven nog belangrijker, omdat bedrijven blijven zoeken naar manieren om hun teams te versterken met gemotiveerde en gekwalificeerde kandidaten. Het succes van een bedrijf hangt immers sterk af van de mensen die er werken. Hoe kun je in deze dynamische tijd effectief te werk gaan in werving en selectie? Hier zijn waardevolle inzichten om je strategie te verbeteren.

Versterk je employer branding

Een sterk merk als werkgever trekt automatisch de juiste kandidaten aan. Potentiële medewerkers willen werken voor bedrijven waar ze zich betrokken en gewaardeerd voelen. Zorg ervoor dat je organisatie wordt gepresenteerd als een aantrekkelijke plek om te werken. Dit betekent investeren in een duidelijke missie, een sterke bedrijfscultuur en zichtbaarheid op sociale media. Door deze aanpak versterk je niet alleen je imago, maar maak je het proces van personeel werven ook veel effectiever.

Gebruik data en technologie

In 2024 is het gebruik van data en technologie cruciaal bij werving en selectie. Tools zoals AI en machine learning kunnen je helpen om de juiste kandidaten sneller te identificeren en te bereiken. Denk hierbij aan geavanceerde software voor CV-screening of platforms die automatisch geschikte profielen matchen met openstaande functies. Daarnaast bieden tools zoals Via Lott innovatieve oplossingen voor het stroomlijnen van je wervingsproces, waardoor je tijd en kosten kunt besparen.

Creëer een persoonlijke benadering

De tijd van generieke sollicitatieprocedures is voorbij. Kandidaten waarderen een persoonlijke aanpak waarin hun unieke vaardigheden en ambities worden erkend. Dit kan betekenen dat je maatwerk biedt in communicatie of dat je flexibel bent in interviewschema’s. Een gepersonaliseerde ervaring laat zien dat je het beste met de kandidaat voor hebt, wat essentieel is bij personeel werven.

Maak gebruik van je netwerk

Een goed netwerk is goud waard bij werving en selectie. Medewerkers kunnen uitstekende ambassadeurs zijn door potentiële kandidaten aan te dragen via hun eigen connecties. Dit wordt vaak ondersteund door referralprogramma’s die zowel de werkgever als de medewerker ten goede komen. Bovendien kun je platforms zoals Via Lott benutten om je bereik te vergroten en nieuwe netwerkmogelijkheden te ontdekken.

Focus op diversiteit en inclusie

In 2024 ligt er een grote nadruk op diversiteit en inclusie binnen organisaties. Dit gaat niet alleen over het naleven van regelgeving, maar ook over het creëren van een omgeving waarin iedereen zich welkom voelt. Diversiteit leidt tot innovatie en betere besluitvorming. Bij personeel werven is het dus belangrijk om een breed scala aan kandidaten aan te trekken en inclusieve processen te hanteren.

Bied flexibiliteit

Flexibiliteit is een van de meest gevraagde arbeidsvoorwaarden van dit moment. Veel professionals zoeken naar banen waarin ze een balans kunnen vinden tussen werk en privé. Dit kan bijvoorbeeld door hybride werken of flexibele werktijden aan te bieden. Organisaties die deze behoeften erkennen, hebben een streepje voor in werving en selectie.

Optimaliseer je vacatureteksten

Het schrijven van effectieve vacatureteksten is een kunst. Zorg ervoor dat je taalgebruik duidelijk, aantrekkelijk en inclusief is. Vermijd jargon en wees transparant over wat je biedt en verwacht. Platforms zoals Via Lott kunnen je helpen om vacatureteksten te optimaliseren, zodat ze beter aansluiten bij je doelgroep. Dit is een cruciaal onderdeel van succesvol personeel werven.

Bouw aan langdurige relaties

Een duurzame relatie met kandidaten en medewerkers is essentieel. Dit betekent dat je niet alleen gericht bent op het invullen van een functie, maar ook op het behouden en ontwikkelen van talent binnen je organisatie. Kandidaten waarderen werkgevers die investeren in hun groei en carrière. Een goede aanpak van werving en selectie legt de basis voor dergelijke relaties.

Meet en evalueer je succes

Het meten van je wervingsresultaten helpt je om te begrijpen wat werkt en wat niet. Gebruik metrics zoals time-to-hire, cost-per-hire en de kwaliteit van nieuwe medewerkers. Deze inzichten stellen je in staat om je processen continu te verbeteren. Met tools zoals Via Lott kun je eenvoudig rapportages genereren en analyseren, wat je helpt om je strategie te verfijnen.

Blijf flexibel en innovatief

De arbeidsmarkt verandert constant, en daarom moet je bereid zijn om je strategie aan te passen. Dit kan betekenen dat je experimenteert met nieuwe kanalen of dat je investeert in innovatieve tools voor personeel werven. Organisaties die vooruitdenken en zich aanpassen, zullen in 2024 succesvoller zijn in werving en selectie.

Door deze tips te volgen en gebruik te maken van tools zoals Via Lott, kun je je kansen vergroten om het beste talent aan te trekken. In 2024 gaat het niet alleen om wie je aanneemt, maar ook om hoe je ze aantrekt en behoudt. Zorg ervoor dat je strategie niet alleen effectief is, maar ook toekomstbestendig.

#business #hr #ict #it #recruitment

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masterofd1saster · 11 months ago

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CJ current events 14mar24

Still think DNA is too cool for school?

CBI scientist altered, deleted data in DNA tests in at least 650 cases, internal investigation finds

Investigators found Yvonne “Missy” Woods omitted relevant facts from criminal justice records and tampered with DNA testing by omitting some results, the agency said in announcing the results of its internal investigation Friday.

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And no, her name is not Lincoln

House Passes ‘Laken Riley Act’ to Combat Migrant Crime

CV NEWS FEED // Exactly two weeks after a University of Georgia (UGA) nursing student was brutally murdered by an illegal immigrant, the House passed legislation named in her honor. The Laken Riley Act, or HR 7511, passed the chamber by a 251-170 margin Thursday. Thirty-seven Democrats joined all voting Republicans in support of the bill. The remaining 170 Democrats voted against it.*** https://catholicvote.org/house-passes-laken-riley-act-to-combat-migrant-crime

Yeah, I know it's symbolic and not going anywhere.....

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BB bein' brutal -

You may recall -

In August 2015, Jared Fogle pled guilty to two counts of conviction for offenses involving the distribution and receipt of child pornography, as well as travel to engage in illicit sexual conduct with a minor. The district court imposed an above-guidelines sentence of 188 months in prison on each count, to be served concurrently. Fogle appeals his sentence, alleging that the district court committed procedural and substantive errors.

United States v. Fogle, 825 F.3d 354, 356 (7th Cir. 2016). His conviction and sentence were affirmed. The Bureau of Prisons says

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BB be killin' it

***

Good cautionary tale for prosecutors

Not sufficiently experienced. Talked too much to media. Not alert to confirmation bias. Struggled with routine admin like discovery & CLE.

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Dershowitz is usually reliable

https://www.newsmax.com/newsmax-tv/alan-dershowitz-fani-willis-georgia/2024/03/08/id/1156557

***"Even if you need an actual conflict, it's there. The evidence is overwhelming. The evidence is overwhelming that they had an affair before ... she hired him. The evidence is overwhelming that she benefited financially from it. The evidence is overwhelming that he was not qualified to do the job and earn $700,000." He went on to say: "This ought to be a criminal investigation of Fani Willis and the two witnesses ... but I don't know whether the judge will have the courage to actually look and say, I believe you committed perjury. I believe you committed obstruction of justice. I believe you tampered with witnesses. I believe you conspired to commit perjury.***

***

Voters awaken

***In San Francisco, voters backed ballot measures to strengthen the city’s police force and mandate drug tests for welfare recipients, prompting the San Francisco Chronicle to declare on its front page Wednesday morning, “Progressivism Is Out…” Voters also placed a host of moderates on the Democratic County Central Committee, which the Chronicle reported “could reshape who is elected in San Francisco for years.” Steven Buss, co-founder of the non-partisan organization Grow S.F., said of progressive politicians, “They had their turn. They failed. Now it’s time for the city to move on.” Ballot Measure E bolsters the San Francisco Police Department by creating new policies for officers “to report use-of-force incidents,” allows the police to use drones and set up security cameras to reduce and prevent crime, and authorizes the police to use “new surveillance technology,” with a board of supervisors’ approval. The measure also reduces the amount of time officers spend on paperwork, “with the goal that patrol officers spend no more than 20% of their work time on administrative tasks.” The proposal passed with just shy of 60% of the vote. The most controversial of the ballot measures approved on Tuesday was Measure F, which requires drug screening for welfare recipients. The policy requires single adults under 65 years old and with no dependents to submit to drug tests before being eligible to receive county welfare assistance. “When screening indicates a recipient may be dependent on illegal drugs, the City will provide a professional evaluation and may refer the recipient to an appropriate treatment program,” the Measure states.***

The deep-blue state of Washington also approved a host of ballot initiatives on Tuesday, aimed at undoing left-wing policies and legislation enacted over the past few years. *** Initiative 2113 reversed Democrat-backed restrictions on police pursuits, which have resulted in an increase in suspects evading or escaping police. One suspect even called 911 to cite the progressive legislation and tell the police to stop chasing him. The new policy allows police pursuit if an officer has a “reasonable suspicion” that an individual has broken the law and “poses a threat to the safety of others.” Initiative 2111 ended state and local income tax. All three initiatives were approved by the state legislature, while three others were not addressed by the legislature and will appear on the state’s ballots in November. None of the three citizen-led measures approved by the legislature require the governor’s signature to become law. Oregon also recently moved to undo disastrous progressive policies. Last week, legislators passed HB4002, re-criminalizing drugs three years after making fentanyl, cocaine, heroin, and methamphetamine legal. The prior policy, adopted in 2020 with nearly 60% support from voters, imposed minor fines on possession of drugs. The legislation passed last week moves possession of drugs from a Class E violation — punishable by a maximum of a $100 fine — to a Class C misdemeanor — punishable by up to a month in jail and fines of up to $1,250.*** https://washingtonstand.com/news/they-had-their-turn-they-failed-blue-cities-and-states-reject-progressive-policies

***

Ohio imitates Weekend at Bernie's?

Two Ohio women allegedly propped up a dead man in their car during a visit to the bank to withdraw hundreds of dollars from his account before they dropped him off at the hospital. Karen Casbohm, 63, and Loreen Bea Feralo, 55, are now facing felony charges after dropping off the body of Douglas Layman, 80, at Ashtabula County Medical Center emergency room on Monday and leaving, according to Ashtabula Police Chief Robert Stell and Ashtabula Prosecuting Attorney Cecilia Cooper. Medical personnel had no idea who Layman was when the women dropped him at the emergency room.*** https://www.foxnews.com/us/two-ohio-women-facing-felony-charges-after-propping-up-dead-man-car-driving-bank-withdraw-his-money

***

Fool me once....

The Missouri podiatrist who died unexpectedly in January — just over three years after her fiancé’s former lover was also found dead in mysterious circumstances — succumbed to a lethal drug overdose. Sarah Sweeney, 39, who was found dead at a home in the Westwood area of St. Louis on the morning of Jan. 13, died from oxycodone, gabapentin and diphenhydramine intoxication, the Frontenac Police Department said.*** Sweeney was found dead at the home she lived in with her fiancé, local fire captain Robert Daus, public records indicated. Nearly four years earlier, in July 2020, Daus had called first responders to his previous address in Creve Coeur to report that his then-fiancée, Grace Holland, had supposedly shot herself in the head in front of him. Holland — who had four children — was later determined to have taken her own life. Her family disputed the finding, and sued Daus for wrongful death — citing evidence that he controlled Holland’s finances and was threatening to end their relationship.*** https://nypost.com/2024/03/06/us-news/missouri-doc-found-dead-by-murderer-fiance-died-from-overdose/

***

Georgia case based on illegally recording?

***A new book from Mike Isikoff and Daniel Klaidman admits that a widely misunderstood phone call, on which Willis’ political prosecution rests, was illegally recorded. That means the entire prosecution could crumble with defendants having a new avenue to challenge Democrat lawfare.*** Willis ran on pledges to restore professionalism and sexual ethics to the Fulton County district attorney’s office and to begin to deal with a backlog of 11,000 unindicted homicides, assaults, shootings, and other crimes. Instead, the night before her official first day, word leaked of a recent phone call between Trump and Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger. *** Willis hoped that Raffensperger had been in Fulton County for the call, so she could prosecute Trump based on that false understanding of the call.*** However, the person who recorded the phone call wasn’t in Fulton County or even in Georgia. That’s a problem. Jordan Fuchs, a political activist who serves as Raffensperger’s chief of staff, was in Florida, where it is illegal to record a call without all parties to the call consenting to the recording. She neither asked for nor received consent to record. Fuchs was one of the main sources for Isikoff and Klaidman’s book, they admit in their acknowledgments. While they reward her with effusive praise throughout, she comes off very poorly.*** Covering up the Crime This is where the authors of the book admit that the very recording of the call was a crime: Fuchs has never talked publicly about her taping of the phone call; she learned, after the fact, that Florida where she was at the time is one of fifteen states that requires two-party consent for the taping of phone calls. A lawyer for Raffensperger’s office asked the January 6 committee not to call her as a witness for reasons the committee’s lawyers assumed were due to her potential legal exposure. The committee agreed. But when she was called before a Fulton County special grand jury convened by Fani Willis, she was granted immunity and confirmed the taping, according to three sources with direct knowledge of her testimony.*** https://thefederalist.com/2024/03/07/new-book-admits-fani-willis-get-trump-investigation-began-with-illegal-recording/

This Florida law may make 0 difference in Georgia. You can look it up.

***

Abercrombie & Fitch

Behind the preppy, all-American fashion brand was a sordid world of alleged exploitation and abuse of power

BY RIANNA CROXFORD

https://archive.ph/t006M#selection-585.0-599.15

***The legal complaint, brought by Bradberry and others, also accuses Jeffries and his partner of sex-trafficking, sexual misconduct and rape, alleging it’s likely more than 100 men were abused during his tenure. Jeffries’s lawyer has since called for the case to be dismissed, saying he “vehemently” denies the claims. Smith has echoed the call, saying that the lawsuit does not “detail any specific, factual occurrences” of an alleged sexual offense by him. At the same time, the FBI started investigating, and federal prosecutors have enrolled a grand jury to determine whether there is sufficient evidence to pursue a prosecution. Abercrombie & Fitch, which at the time of publication told us it was “disgusted and appalled” by the allegations, now says it has launched an independent investigation and suspended a substantial part of Jeffries’s retirement payments, totaling about $1 million a year. The company says its current leadership team were not aware of the allegations and have since transformed into “the values-driven organization we are today”, adding that it has “zero tolerance for abuse, harassment or discrimination of any kind”.***

***

Ultra violent girl fight

A 15-year-old is in custody and local and state leaders have responded with outrage after a video from Friday went viral showing one teen beat another’s head into pavement on a residential street near Hazelwood East High School as a group of young people watch. As of yesterday, the victim was in critical condition at a local hospital, being treated for a severe head injury. Reports that she had succumbed to her injuries were widespread on special media, but unfounded. The assault took place 2:30 p.m. on Friday, March 8, at Norgate and Claudine drives in Spanish Lake. That’s near near Hazelwood East High School, but not on school property, as was originally reported. The St. Louis County Police Department said in a statement that the 15-year-old was taken into custody on Saturday on assault charges and further investigation is ongoing. *** https://www.riverfronttimes.com/news/viral-video-of-beating-near-hazelwood-east-draws-anger-condemnation-42079257

Video shows the victim convulsing in the street.

***

Jewelry - from r/trashy

***

People notice terrifying things

SEATTLE (AP) — The Department of Justice has launched a criminal investigation into the Boeing jetliner blowout that left a gaping hole on an Alaska Airlines plane this January, the Wall Street Journal reported on Saturday. Citing documents and people familiar with the matter, the newspaper said investigators have contacted some passengers and crew — including pilots and flight attendants — who were on the Jan. 5th flight. The Boeing plane used by Alaska Airlines suffered the blowout seven minutes after takeoff from Portland, Oregon, forcing the pilots to make an emergency landing. Boeing has been under increased scrutiny since the incident, when a panel that plugged a space left for an extra emergency door blew off a Max 9 jet. There were no serious injuries.*** [NTSB's] chair, Jennifer Homendy, testified that for two months Boeing repeatedly refused to identify employees who work on door panels on Boeing 737s and failed to provide documentation about a repair job that included removing and reinstalling the door panel. “It’s absurd that two months later we don’t have that,” Homendy said. “Without that information, that raises concerns about quality assurance, quality management, safety management systems” at Boeing.*** https://apnews.com/article/boeing-ntsb-door-plug-emergency-landing-2d23408a25eff999579c88071836dbec

***Wed

Smoke all the weed you want, but tobacco is forbidden

BROOKLINE, Mass. (AP) — A Massachusetts town that adopted an unusual ordinance banning the sale of tobacco to anyone born in the 21st century is being looked at as a possible model for other cities and towns hoping to further clamp down on cigarettes and tobacco products. The bylaw — the first of its kind in the country — was adopted by Brookline in 2020 and last week was upheld by the state’s highest court, opening the door for other communities to adopt similar bans that will, decades from now, eventually bar all future generations from buying tobacco. The rule, which bans the sale of tobacco to anyone born on or after Jan. 1, 2000, went into effect in 2021 in the town of about 60,000 next to Boston.*** https://apnews.com/article/tobacco-ban-21st-century-brookline-massachusetts-e9d54d60ddfe23f9d7e06eb724f5449a

Of course, Massachusetts has recreational weed - https://www.mass.gov/info-details/massachusetts-law-about-recreational-marijuana

***

Florida being less Florida

Florida celebrated International Women's Day last week by treating the state's young women like children. On Friday, state lawmakers approved a bill banning 18- to 20-year-olds from being strippers or from working in any other capacity at an adult entertainment venue. Like a similar bill passed in Texas in 2021, the Florida bill claims to be a blow against human trafficking. As with so many attempts to "protect" people from sex work, this one has major potential to backfire and make abuse and exploitation worse. It's also part of a growing movement across the U.S. to push up the boundaries of childhood, making all sorts of things once legal for 18- to 20-year-olds now off limits.*** https://apnews.com/article/tobacco-ban-21st-century-brookline-massachusetts-e9d54d60ddfe23f9d7e06eb724f5449a

You might say that Florida stripped them of their God-given right to be sexually exploited.

***

Trump Georgia case

The judge overseeing the Georgia election interference case on Wednesday dismissed some of the charges against former President Donald Trump, but many other counts in the indictment remain. Fulton County Superior Court Judge Scott McAfee wrote in an order that six of the counts in the indictment must be quashed, including three against Trump, the presumptive 2024 Republican presidential nominee. But the order leaves intact other charges, and the judge wrote that prosecutors could seek a new indictment on the charges he dismissed. The ruling is a blow for Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis, whose case has already been on shaky ground with an effort to have her removed from the prosecution over her romantic relationship with a colleague. It’s the first time charges in any of Trump's four criminal cases have been dismissed, with the judge saying prosecutors failed to provide enough detail about the alleged crime.*** https://www.newsmax.com/politics/georgia-election-interference/2024/03/13/id/1157088

***

NJ lie in statistics? Say it aint so...

***

8 Million motives

Special Counsel Robert Hur on Tuesday directly disputed the White House narrative on President Biden's retention of classified documents after his vice presidency, confirming Biden "willfully" retained classified documents, indicated Biden lied to reporters when he said he did not share such information, and testified his report "did not exonerate" Biden of wrongdoing. He insisted in nationally televised testimony to Congress that Biden did "willfully" keep nationally secrets but that prosecutors did not believe they could prove it to a jury beyond a reasonable doubt. Hur was appointed special counsel by the Justice Department to look into Biden's handling of classified document after he left the Obama White House in 2017. Republicans, led by House Judiciary Committee Chairman Jim Jordan, questioned Hur in testimony likely to influence the 2024 elections, in which Biden is seeking reelection, and argued Biden kept the materials because they will help him write a book that earned him $8 million. Hur confirmed to lawmakers Biden did in fact share classified information with the ghostwriter for the book.*** https://justthenews.com/government/congress/watch-live-special-counsel-hur-testifies-house-judiciary-biden-classified

+++

The transcript of Joe Biden’s interview with Special Counsel Bob Hur showed the president frequently wandered off topic, even making “car noises.”***

Attorney Marc Krickbuam asked Biden: “Do you remember whether it was when the Corvette was coming back after the Jay Leno show? So, in other words, it goes out for Jay Leno, eventually it comes back.” Biden responded, “Oh no, it was, it was in and out for a bunch of reasons,” before starting to chatter away. “Because it drove me crazy; I wanted to drive it,” Biden continued. Krickbaum responded, “Got it. That makes sense. A beautiful car.” According to the transcript, Biden then proceeded to talk about his car, and make car noises. “And the worst part was, they said I couldn’t drive it outside the driveway. It’s a long driveway. So I’d get to the bottom of the driveway, tack it up to about four grand (indiscernible) (makes car sound) (indiscernible) (laughter),” it quoted Biden. Biden then started talking about cars in general, before Hur interrupted with, “Sir, I’d love — I would love to hear much more about this, but I do have a few more questions to get through.” Biden ignored him, and continued talking about cars, to which Hur finally said, “All right. So let’s — let’s launch into the next subject which relates to the Penn Biden Center.” Another portion of the transcript shows Hur asking Biden about the time he lived at the Naval Observatory as vice president that ended up with Biden discussing a man losing part of his testicles and penis. Hur asid, “So now let’s talk about the Naval Observatory. So you’ve been living there for eight years. So at the end of your vice presidency, what kinds of papers or documents or files were at the Naval Observatory as you were preparing to leave and move out?” Biden then launched into a long-winded story, where he talked about waiting for bar exam results and working for a law firm in the meantime that was representing a young man. “And this poor kid is down a hundred-foot vessel, chimney, scraping the hydrogen bubbles off of the inside. They were made to shut the plant down once every — whatever, about eight months or six months or a year, whatever it is. And he was wearing the wrong pants, wrong jeans, and he — a spark caught fire and got caught in the containment vessel and he lost part of his penis and one of his testicles and he was 23 years old,” Biden continued. After continuing on about how he got involved in politics, Hur finally interrupted him, saying, “So, sir, the material that you just — that you remember having, again, trying to steer us back to the end of your vice presidency and focusing on your move out of the Naval Observatory.”*** Biden continued to talk about how he was handed a bow and arrow and he hit a target on a hay bale. After that story, one of the attorneys requested to take a break. https://www.breitbart.com/politics/2024/03/12/hur-transcript-shows-joe-biden-made-car-noises-and-often-meandered-off-topic/

+++

CLAS material found seven different places - https://twitter.com/CitizenFreePres/status/1767617888947503588

***

Hazelwood East HS

After the assailant smashed the victim's head into concret multiple times, the girl lay motionless on the sidewalk until she began to have a seizure. She was taken to the hospital and has remained there since. James Clark, vice president of Public Safety and Community Response expressed concerns over the video and corresponding trend to the outlet. "That's a glimpse into the mentality and the culture of our young people today," he stated. "The social pressure is to be socially dysfunctional. Who can be the loudest? Who can be the most disruptive?" *** https://thepostmillennial.com/history-of-violent-fights-alleged-anti-white-racism-plagues-missouri-high-school-at-center-of-brutal-beating-controversy

***Thurs

In Junior Biden news....

A federal judge in Delaware on Wednesday set a June trial date for Hunter Biden on gun-related charges, the same month his trial on tax-related charges is set to begin in Los Angeles. U.S. District Court Judge Maryellen Noreika set a June 3 trial date after a status conference with the legal team for President Joe Biden’s son and prosecutors from Department of Justice special counsel David Weiss, CNN reported. Hunter Biden has pleaded not guilty to charges of unlawfully purchasing a revolver while using illicit drugs, and lying on federal forms about his drug use when he bought the weapon. Hunter Biden also faces a June 20 trial date on nine federal tax-related charges in California regarding an alleged conspiracy to avoid paying more than $1 million in taxes. He has pleaded not guilty in that case, as well.*** https://www.newsmax.com/newsfront/hunter-biden-joe-biden-gun-charges/2024/03/13/id/1157170

***

The award for strangest conspiracy ever goes to...

Defendant Worked to Traffic Marco Polo Sheep Parts from Kyrgyzstan, Clone Sheep, Illegally Inseminate Ewes to Create Hybrids and Traffic Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep Parts

A Montana man pleaded guilty today to two felony wildlife crimes – a conspiracy to violate the Lacey Act and substantively violating the Lacey Act – as part of an almost decade-long effort to create giant sheep hybrids in the United States with an aim to sell the species to captive hunting facilities. Arthur “Jack” Schubarth, 80, of Vaughn, Montana, is the owner and operator of Sun River Enterprises LLC – also known as Schubarth Ranch – which is a 215-acre alternative livestock ranch in Vaughn. The Schubarth Ranch is engaged in the purchase, sale and breeding of “alternative livestock” such as mountain sheep, mountain goats and various ungulates. The primary market for Schubarth’s livestock is captive hunting operations, also known as shooting preserves or game ranches. According to court documents, Schubarth conspired with at least five other individuals between 2013 and 2021 to create a larger hybrid species of sheep that would garner higher prices from shooting preserves. Schubarth brought parts of the largest sheep in the world, Marco Polo argali sheep (Ovis ammon polii), from Kyrgyzstan into the United States without declaring the importation. Average males can weigh more than 300 pounds with horns that span more than five feet. Marco Polo argali are native to the high elevations of the Pamir region of Central Asia. They are protected internationally by the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species, domestically by the U.S. Endangered Species Act and are prohibited in the State of Montana to protect native sheep from disease and hybridization. Schubarth sent genetic material from the argali parts to a lab to create cloned embryos. Schubarth then implanted the embryos in ewes on his ranch, resulting in a single, pure genetic male Marco Polo argali that he named “Montana Mountain King” or MMK.

Court documents explain that Schubarth worked with the other unnamed coconspirators to use MMK’s semen to artificially impregnate various other species of ewes – all of which were prohibited in Montana – and create hybrid animals. Their goal was to create a larger and more valuable species of sheep to sell to captive hunting facilities, primarily in Texas. To move the prohibited sheep into and out of Montana, Schubarth and others forged veterinary inspection certificates, falsely claiming that the sheep were legally permitted species. On occasion, Schubarth sold MMK semen directly to sheep breeders in other states.

*** https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/montana-man-pleads-guilty-federal-wildlife-trafficking-charges-part-yearslong-effort-create

***

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cv-nobody-and-associates · 2 years ago

Text

Nao found herself in a large grey box of a room. No visible doors on first inspection, she noted.

That was fine. She could always blast her way out. Energy hummed beneath her skin and her suit quivered with the sensation. Before she could fire, however, a voice began to play. There were speakers at the top corners of the room.

"Welcome." The voice said, with an ethereal sound that would have made it impossible to ignore even without the speakers. "I am Vortex, acting director of the Mythos organisation's D-cell." The name rung in bell to Nao. Connected to Solara, she was pretty sure.

"Well, D is about the best grade I'd give you." She joked to ease the tension in her body. She still shook a little as she watched the room carefully, waiting for a trap. "But I'm guessing it stands for something. Dimensional?" The voice hummed in what sounded like approval.

"For a shoddy copy, you think well." Vortex complimented. "We are indeed the dimensional branch of the organisation. One of the most crucial to creating a world of order and peace, beyond the failures that once called themselves gods. You're about to see one of our projects, in fact. You of all people should appreciate her."

The floor shook, and a set of tiles opened up, revealing a hatch that led deeper into the facility. It rose, and upon it was something that appeared to be a woman, or perhaps something that once was that.

The entity was a vibrant green colour. It wore no clothes, but nothing was visible. Much like Nobody, its skin appeared to be some form of suit as well.

It had the imprint of a face, like a mould to press a proper appearance into later. It also had hair, a spikey line across the middle of the head that was blue in colour.

"Meet Anybody." The entity growled as Vortex introduced them. "You of all people must appreciate the value of a copy, no? We couldn't get the process quite right, but with reverse engineering we have made our very own Fusion. This one bound to us."

Nao's eyes were wide. She hated everything Vortex had just said on a powerful, instinctive level. It made her stomach groan and her mouth taste of blood, heavy and metal.

"Fusions are sacred beings. This...this is an abomination!" She screamed, taking a fighting stance. Anybody did the same, their movements slow yet precise.

"Then what does that make you? A pale imitation of a Fusion, made as a temporary replacement for your own master. This being is closer to Nobody than you are by a mile. If you call her an abomination, what does that make you?"

Nao didn't have an answer. The question had haunted her since Nobody's return.

She couldn't respond in words.

So she tried with action.

She threw a lunging punch at Anybody, but she dodged it, twisting her body and kicking Nao in the back. Her momentum carried her into the wall.

Anybody pressed her advantage, putting Nao on the defensive by stretching out an arm to impossible lengths to grab at her head, throwing her down into the floor. Nao used her suit to make a shield, and once the impact was clear she released it and shifted the sleeves over her arms into long blades.

Not a moment too soon, as Anybody was already charging in once more. She stuck out her arms and pierced her chest. Anybody finally spoke.

"ARGHHH!" She screamed. "THAT HURTS! IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS SHE HURTS!" Nao raised an eyebrow. She?

She looked down at her suit, which seemed to be almost angry. It trembled with rage, as though Nao's willpower was the only thing keeping it back.

She wondered if she needed to?

She was pressed back onto the defensive quickly, Anybody unleashing a flurry of blows with a speed impossible for her to match as a physical being. Travelling as energy for attacks was one of Nobody's best techniques, and one it seemed Anybody knew how to imitate.

Cuts sprung up all over Nao's body. Blood, a mix of black and red and purple, all began to fall forth from every wound. A rising certainly grew in her like bile rising through the throat.

She was going to die.

Would that be okay? She wanted to stay, but did she need to? Wasn't her purpose fulfilled? Would...Would this be worth it somehow?

Could she accept it?

Even if she could, another couldn't.

"Get...away..." Nao's suit began morphing and shifting. A face grew out of it, one with long and oily black hair and burning red eyes like heated coals.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

"W-what is this?!" Vortex cried out in confusion as the strange being, a mix of slime and oil and untold fury, burst out. It stretched our further from Nao and grabbed Anybody with two sharp arms.

"You won't hurt her, and you won't hurt mama!" It called out in a voice that matched both child and demon. Anybody howled with pain and as Nao groggily lifted her head, she saw why.

The being in her suit - perhaps the being that was her suit, was turning Anybody to dust.

"How is this possible?!" Vortex screamed. She screamed it again and again, and it became clear she was somehow on repeat. A recording?

Just another copy.

There was a sharp BOOM and Anybody was no more. In her place, there was a green dust spreading through the room and a hole in the wall. The being from Nao's suit receded back into her.

"What are you?" Nao muttered, moving out of the room. A mouth grew onto the suit briefly.

"Call me Missy. I'm Nobody's child!"

That...only raised further questions.

She shook them away. Questions later. She had to catch up to Solara and find Katra.

It had been several months since moving to Creatorverse, and Katra still had no idea what to make of it. Besides a brief appearance in a now-cancelled tournament, she hadn't seen much of the city.

When Nobody, her new...room-mate? Mentor? The woman was rather evasive on anything specific. In any case, when it became clear she lacked much in the way of food and drink for physical beings, she leapt on the chance for a grocery run.

"How much did she give us again?"

"No clue." Katra sighed as she walked on her way back home. She held about six bags comfortably filled with whatever looked good. She didn't have any favourite foods really - her diet had usually been strictly controlled. "The card went through okay, so it seems all legitimate. But no ATM gives me a clear number."

"Wonder where she gets the money. Assassination work seems like her thing."

"If she were an assassin, we'd be dead." Katra reminded her spectral companion. Gold was more docile since the tournament., perhaps taking Nobody's advice on working together to heart. Or perhaps just biding her time before something big. Katra tried not to question it. "She's not after our bounty."

"He wouldn't be the first assassin to not kill you. Remember thar catboy you like?"

"Yukimi's an exception." She took a few more moments to register what her companion had said. "A-and I don't like him, okay?! Stop s-saying that." Gold barked out a laugh that Katra chose to ignore.

Which became rather simple to do when it was abruptly cut off.

"Oh hey, it works!" Katra spun, turning to an alley where she saw...herself? A grinning mirror image of her holding what looked like some kind of remote. "Soul interference sure is handy, huh? Betcha your friend's all quiet now! You're welcome!"

Katra dropped her shopping bags immediately, tensing and readying herself for movement. "Who are you?!" She demanded, sounding perhaps more desperate for an answer than she would've liked.

"I'm you, silly!" The doppelganger insisted. "And him, and her, and them. I'm whoever I need to be! But since that's unhelpful, let's go with Avi for now." It bowed theatrically. If this were an assassin, she suspected it was of the deranged actor variety. Surprisingly common in her experience.

"Deranged? How rude!" The doppelganger pouted. "I come out all this way only for you to criticise me in your head? Not cool." It shook its head. Katra's body shook in turn.

"You read minds?"

"Somebody does, and I'm everybody!" Avi extended its arms out as it spoke gleefully. "People have all sorts of powers in this city, and I have a taste of a lot of 'em. I only have your looks on the outside though. Can't get more until later."

"What happens later?" Katra took a fighting stance, expecting the answer. She wasn't ready for Avi to move faster than any eye of hers could blink, however.

"It'll be more fun to show you...!" Katra barely had time to turn before her vision was eclipsed with black. There was a piercing pain in her head, presumably from an attack. She couldn't tell.

Everything went dark.

...

"Katra? Pick up, please. I can't seem to reach you any other way and this infernal contraption is annoying at best."

"You're not there, are you? Dammit. Now I have to make some more calls."

...

Katra's phone sat in the street, it's power draining and cracked screen flickering.

She couldn't hear it.

She was busy listening to them.

"The subject has been obtained successfully, director." A muffled man's voice. It sounded low and strange, as though it was speaking without a mouth. She couldn't see anything.

"Excellent work, Doctor McGee. Your pet project has outdone itself." A woman's voice, strong and firm. Yet there was somehow also a weightless quality to it. It floated to your ears yet demanded your attention. "The data acquired from the primary target was helpful, then?"

"Yup!" Her own voice. Familiar yet alien. "The whole Z and P incident worked wonders! Now we know exactly how to deal with soul interference. I'd thank them, but I don't think they like me." It sounded almost sad about that for a moment.

"Their favour is not required, Avi." The woman said calmly, comforting the doppelganger. "Only the results matter in an experiment. Opinions are irrelevant."

"You're just sayin' that!" Katra heard her own mouth stick it's tongue out playfully. "Probably jut 'Cause she'd hate this, right Vo-" Katra tried not to flinch and thus give away her consciousness as she heard a sharp gasp escape the doppelganger, followed by a metallic impact.

"Call me director, pest." She could feel there were eyes on her as the voice spoke again.

"After all, you never know who's listening."

Katra struggled against it, but a hint of a whimper escaped her mouth unwillingly.

Screams came next.

#Mythos cv #The Unseen #Nao cv #Missy cv

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agenderhyde · 4 years ago

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Missy drank alien blood and loved it

#cloudy rambles #cloudy plays sims #missy #i need to shower and probably eat so i can do more hw #i stopped by cvs for cookies. not home yet.

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eissibee · 2 years ago

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God I knew this would happen

Got made redundant just before Christmas, after months of being given nothing to do by the company, despite begging and training and trying to make myself useful. Now I'm useless. It was my grad role opportunity and in 2 years I still don't feel like I know enough to even get the same role elsewhere. I tried to spend idle time learning but it wasn't enough. THEN my prodigal brother returns from a top London job to get several offers and a higher paying job within weeks of returning to the country. My company wouldn't even let me tell people I was leaving.

So it's back to this. Him back to 'help' me by pointing out my every flaw but the added bonus of saying my opinions are naughty bc I might be autistic and therefore don't know what is "usual". Him back to a great job and great friends who he goes camping with for new years before moving out into a flat with them.

And I'm still living at home. Almost no friends. No job. No direction, no motivation. One cat dead before Christmas and the other waiting for an appointment to go because she's got a growth under her tongue, and it's NOT FAIR because we JUST lost Mouse and she is happy and healthy as ever but we still have to kill her at some point but have no idea when is right. And I've got no support from the Great Modern Human Focused company I was booted from, one job lead that might go cold bc it's a family friend connection and that's not ethically sound, and my CV is an embarrassing mess just like I am. I had this stupid idea to make it fun and I KNEW. this would all hit as soon as Christmas was over.

I knew the pit would be waiting so I thought I could jump over rather than in, but I'm too weak for that. I leapt right in, right to the damn bottom, because I AM useless and weak. I'm "weird" and struggle with basic tasks, I claim to be an artist but never make art. I have all the time and opportunity in the world to make something or upskill or add to a UX portfolio I don't have, and I'm just. Lying in bed, making the pillow damp and hoping my parents don't try to get me to eat dinner cos idk if I can. It is pathetic.

My brother and dad and coworkers are right about me. I know nothing, my opinions have no value, I lack awareness and probably have a shit fucked work ethic anyway after months of nothing to do.

I miss Mouse. I need her. I told her that when she was diagnosed but it didn't matter. I was sobbing so hard next to her and she just put a paw on my leg. I begged her not to go and by the end she was so anemic and cold and thin I had to make that call myself. My parents were needing comfort and I was alone. I'm dreading having to face it all over again with Missie. I think hell is just hearing your mother sob in another room.

I know no one who knows me irl will see this. It's probably for the best. I feel like a useless jobless skill less unlovable nobody who will probably never find happiness or someone to care for me after my parents are gone. I'll never make that stupid picture book, or have a career, or dreams. It's just this, and then fog. Nothing I can see. What's the point?

See ya, 2022.

#tw animal death #tw depression #tbd #i think the saddest metaphor that sums up all this stupidity #is im still paying for a minecraft server that no one wants to play on #i dont know why im keeping it #its a nice fantasy ig #id put a read more but forgot how on mobile so someone lemme know and ill hide this mess

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usafphantom2 · 2 years ago

Text

US approves sale of Sidewinder and Harpoon missiles to Taiwan to try to prevent Chinese aggression

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 09/03/202022 - 18:25in Armaments, Military, War Zones

In a move that will certainly make China more agitated, the U.S. State Department approved on Friday the sale of 100 Sidewinder AIM-9X Block II missiles and 60 AGM-84L-1 Harpoon Block II missiles to Taiwan.

The proposed sale of Sidewinder missiles worth US$ 85.6 million, "will increase Taiwan's ability to combat or prevent aggression through demonstration of accuracy against air targets". Harpoon missiles, costing US$ 355 million, will help combat or prevent maritime aggression, coastal blockades and amphibian attacks," said the statements of the Security and Defense Cooperation Agency (DSCA) about the two approvals.

A military man inspects a cargo of an air-to-air missile AIM-9 sidewinder near the Harpoon A-84, an early missile on an F16V fighter at Hualien Air Base in Hualien County, southeast Taiwan, on August 17, 2022. (Photo: AP Photo/Johnson Lai)

Taiwan has been the subject of continuous Chinese intimidation in the form of overflights and navigation of warships near the island nation. The Chinese People's Liberation Army (PLA) held an exercise with the three services last month to simulate the landing of soldiers on the island to achieve "unification" (Chinese term for a military takeover of the island of Taiwan).

Sidewinder missiles are designed to fit Taiwan warplanes, including the current f-16 jets, as well as the newest F-16V warplanes that have been ordered. Harpoons are designed to be launched from air and sea platforms.

The acquisition of the two powerful types of missiles will give the Chinese PLA something to worry about, as they are considered by experts as better than competing missiles in the PLA inventory.

Taiwan has exercised caution in combating Chinese intimidation. However, earlier this week, it fired at an alleged Chinese drone after issuing a warning indicating a hardening position of the Taipei government.

While the Harpoon missies are manufactured by Boeing, the Sidewinders are manufactured by Raytheon.

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Tags: AGM-84 HarpoonAIM-9X SidewinderarmamentsMilitary AviationRoCAF - Republic of China Air Force/Taiwan Air ForceWar Zones - China/Taiwan

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. It has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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luckyrunawaysweets · 2 years ago

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Beware of Devaniux

Hey, guys!

Never heard of me? Doesn't matter. You probably will in the future. Why? ;) Because your beloved bitch queen Devaniux aka Chiine aka TIne is DEFINITELY going to hoot about me :D Sorry, darling, you are not the only one who loves to fuck Yami-Marik ;D Deal with it.

So, why this catchy headline, hm? I want to warn everybody not to get caught of her precious art and "vulnerable" posts and tweets. Tine (Devaniux) is a narcissist at the finest!

A person that wields the ban hammer if someone DARES to contradict her or worse: CRITIZE her! Goddamn!

A person who throws tantrums like a child if she doesn't get her will. A person who threatens to KILL herself, ONLY to get attention and "oh, please don't! you and your art are amazing, beautiful... blah... blah... blah..." On top, this person is a known scammer! The least you could demand for those unspeakable commission prices is a result that you, as the buyer, like! But no, missy walks her way and even calls you out, bans you and denies any changes, even though it was agreed beforehand. She then complains about you and sends her flying monkeys after you.

What are flying monkeys? Well, they are better known as the narcissist's little helpers. They will slander about you and attack you. They spread lies and death threats towards you and others. BUT: The narcissists leans back in their chair and can play the innocent ones. They didn't ask the monkeys to bash you, right? ;)

Oh, Tine... I have seen so many of your victims... I felt so sorry for some of the last ones... they really tried to help you. And you still pull the same shit only to say, it is never your fault... your behavior or your way to treat people:

Hm... why is that? Is it really only because of you not posting art regularly? Well, let me tell you a secret: If people love your art (and maybe you as the person you present on the social media), they will stay. But I assume, it is because of those tweets:

Talking about yourself, eh? You still haven't understood the game of action-reaction. People gave you a kind, constructive feedback. You insulted them. People asked you harmless questions or commented on your artworks (in a positive way!). You took it as criticism and set your white knights (flying monkeys) at those people.

Tine destroyed MANY LIVES by her entitled behavior! Be careful when interacting with her. As nice as her art may be, the worse the person behind it acts.

Guys, this was a first rant about a sheer ENDLESS topic... I know, I know, I didn't even scratch the surface... however, I don't want to have your time wasted entirely. So, here are some ways to deal with Tine/Devaniux:

She is the boss, you are nothing (you have to pay her... but you are still worthless :D)

She MUST be the center of attention! No exceptions!

You must kiss her ass 24/7. She says, life is pointless and she wants to kill herself? Well, promise to commission her and see how her mood changes.

Depression is a bitch. I have it myself and I can confirm how horrible it is. But you can learn how to deal with it. Talking about it is fine. But it is all to an extent. Be prepared, Tine uses her mental state to pressure you and abuse you emotionally.

If she ever opens a new discord, have your phone ready, take a screenshot of your timezone, post all your socials, your credit card number, your ID-card, and of course, your CV since your mother pushed you out. (I don't joke... okay, maybe a little.)

NEVER EVER talk about Yami Marik! That girl seriously gets hilariously mad if anyone dares to say "I like YM, too!" Don't! You will be blacklisted for all eternity.

Please don't mention that she once drew r*pe art, then felt uncomfortable with it and now does it again... she glorifies this act. I heard of victims who draw it as a way of therapy. But Chiine, oh Tine (those fucking self-inserts *rolls eyes*) actually wants to be taken by force - but only by Yami Marik ;)

Tine, my darling, I am sure you will read this. When you're not drawing, or threatening to kill yourself in front of real fans (that are too empathic and compassionate to sense the trap) you are out and scan the internet for posts like that about you, am I right? :)

You know how horrible you are. You know it deep inside your heart. And we know, you know. I am not alone... remember "S" and "T"? No? Nevermind. ;**

Oh, before I forget about it: Call me "K". ;)

#Devaniux #Yami Marik #Marik Ishtar #surviving narcissism #narcissist #emotional abuse

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novoaa1writes · 4 years ago

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sugar fixes everything (... hopefully)

pairing(s): marie laveau x reader

summary:

while out running errands one muggy afternoon in the baywater district, you come across a less-than-welcome face.

you’re loath to tell marie about it, as you know it’ll make her absolutely furious.

you figure that maybe if you butter her up first with treats and kisses, she won’t take it quite so poorly. (you figure wrong.)

contains: fluff, angst & light (hinted at) smut

word count: ~2,300

rating: mature

warnings: fiona being kind of an asshole, passing mention of men being creeps, swearing, light (hinted at) smut, a bit of possessive!marie

notes: bro why aren’t there any marie x reader fics

— —

It was a day like any other in the Crescent City—hot and muggy beneath a sweltering sun in cloudless skies above.

You’d been running errands all around the Bywater District for the better part of the afternoon—depositing money in the bank, refilling your prescriptions at the CVS, stopping by for some sweet tea and easy conversation over at Old Missy’s.

You’d just been taking a detour through the French Quarter before heading back to the 9th Ward—because sure, maybe you’d been living in New Orleans for just over seven years now, but even still, the city’s contagious spirit never failed to galvanize your mood.

Even now, you couldn’t help frequenting little trips over to Jackson Square. You’d gape up at the St. Louis Cathedral in awe, listen to jazz players on the streets, pop into quaint little shops to browse their awe-inspiring wares along the way.

Hell, sometimes you'd even cough up the insane $20 charge (tourist culture is no joke) for a Tarot reading.

Marie always scoffs when you rush back to tell her your newest readings—because of course, she could conjure a bona fide fortune-telling to put the rest of them to shame if you asked it of her. And it was precisely for that reason that you never did.

Regardless. Tarot readings are fun, and they make you smile. (Well, most of them, anyhow.)

This time, though, you make your trip through the Quarter fairly short.

You promised you’d meet Marie this afternoon even if only for coffee, as she was too caught up in witch business to do much else.

That was more than fine with you. Sure, you’d have preferred to see her for longer, but you’d take what you could get.

With her in mind, you allow yourself a small pit-stop at Café du Monde—an immensely popular eatery bordering Jackson Square that sells the best beignets you’ve ever had.

You don’t order many—just four in a neat little to-go box. You know that the moment you show up with them in tow, Marie will groan and chastise you. She’ll go on about how she needs to watch her figure, insisting that “all these sweets are gonna make me fat, ma chérie.”

She always eats them with you anyhow.

(And, if she’s in a particularly good mood, she’ll let you lick the remaining powdered sugar off her pretty lips.)

With two bags and a warm to-go box in hand, you make your way along Decatur Street.

Despite the heat, it really is quite a beautiful day out.

The streets are alive with a jazzy tune; there’s an adorable family taking a selfie on the street corner… the city’s natural charisma spreads its way into your very bones like a contagion—the best kind of infirmity.

The sun falls warmly across your skin as a slight breeze ruffles the hem of your uniform skirt—a little black thing that barely reaches mid-thigh.

It’s not your typical dress—a tiny skirt and black tank (no logo, thankfully); but you’ve been wearing it to work over at Eddie’s enough over the past few years that you don’t really mind it.

Besides, despite the color, it’s perfect for days like this—hot, sunny, damp.

Sure, some men are pigs about it, and you get enough misogynistic comments at work to make even the patience of a saint run dry, but you manage just fine. The money’s good, your boss is nice enough (if not a tad behind on the times), and at the end of the day, you get to go home to the most beautiful woman in the entire city.

God, even just the thought of her has your face breaking out into a blinding grin and a warm, giddy feeling exploding in your chest.

It’s her you’re daydreaming of when it happens.

You’ve just passed by the French Market, and are nearing the edge of the Quarter Proper, when a woman dressed all in black approaches you.

She’s got shoulder-length blonde hair, a sweeping cloak that looks hotter than hell (especially on a day like today), and big black shades covering her eyes.

And the way she’s moving… slowly but surely, like a predator stalking its prey. Like she knows you can’t run from her no matter how hard you try.

It’s something of a bland ensemble on its own—really, anyone from Miss Robichaux’s Academy might be seen donning it on any given day—and her large sunglasses do a solid job of concealing her identity, as they cover at least a third of her face.

It doesn’t matter. You know who she is.

You’ve never met her before (an intentional happenstance on Marie’s part), but her reputation far precedes her.

“Why, hello there, Y/N,” the woman greets, coming up to you and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear like you’re old friends.

You tighten your grip on the bags and your takeout box, but otherwise don’t make a move. You know better than to run. “Fiona Goode.”

The woman chuckles, baring a toothy grin. “That’s my name,” she confirms in a tone that’s as much chiding as it is teasing. “Don’t wear it out.”

You swallow thickly, looking her straight in those big, stupid glasses. You’re irked to note that your reflection in them looks a hell of a lot less intimidating than you’d like.

“What do you want?” you ask. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

Fiona raises a single brow. If she’s at all put off by your impudence, she does well not to show it. “On your way back to the 9th Ward, I presume?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

Fiona chuckles again. “I like you. You’ve got spirit.”

“I don’t care,” you tell her firmly, making as if to bypass her and continue on. “I’m leaving now.”

She shifts to block you, boring down on you with a shark-toothed grin. “I’ll walk with you,” she says. It’s not really an offer so much as it is a command. “After all, it’s so terribly dangerous to be out on these streets alone—pretty girl like yourself. I’m sure I’m not the first to tell you that.”

You grit your teeth, fix her with a glare. “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?”

Fiona throws her head back and laughs, curling an arm around your shoulders.

It’s all the confirmation you need as she tugs you close and begins to walk down the sidewalk, forcibly dragging you along with her.

— —

You maintain the charade for a block… maybe two.

But the moment you’re in a less crowded locale, you jerk out of her grip and turn to face her with a snarl. “What do you want, Ms. Goode?”

“Ooh.” Fiona takes off her sunglasses, folding and tucking them into the purse on the crook of her arm. Her eyes are a gentle shade of brown, lids shaded in expensive-looking black powder. “Feisty. I can see why Marie Laveau is so taken with you.”

“So, that’s what this is about?” You shake your head, glaring off to the side where two children kick a tattered soccer ball in a grimy back alley.

“What are you to her, exactly?” she questions loftily.

You turn back to look her in the eye when you say, “None of your business.”

Fiona appraises you for a beat or two, then advances closer. It takes everything within you not to retreat a step, even if it’ll land you directly in the street. “Everything is my business.”

“Why? ‘Cause you’re the Supreme?”

Fiona raises a single brow. “So, she has told you everything.”

You shrug. “Not everything, I’m sure. She has her secrets, and I have mine.”

Fiona doesn’t even seem to hear you; what’s more, the way she’s looking at you… intent and probing, a morbid fascination in her beady-eyed gaze. “She must really care for you.”

Despite the way your chest flutters at her statement, you remain impassive. “Are we done here?”

Fiona’s lips twitch, threatening a smile—but she retreats a step and brandishes her sunglasses once more, sliding them onto her nose. “Yes, darling,” she coos. “I think we’re quite finished.”

Dismissed, you turn and speed-walk down to the street corner and take your first right—though, not before Fiona can call after you, “I’ll be seeing you again very soon, sweet girl.”

The moment she’s out of sight, you break into a jog. Your pills rattle in the tote, the beignets thunder around inside their little box, but you really don’t care.

You need to get as far away from her as possible.

— —

“She did what ?!” Marie hisses, fury alight in her gaze as she tosses a half-eaten beignet down onto her plate. There’s a bit of powdered sugar smeared above the Cupid’s bow of her top lip. Under any other circumstance, you might find that quite adorable. You still kind of do, honestly.

As it is, you have to fight the instinctive urge to wince. “Marie, it’s fine—”

“It’s not fine.” She practically spits out the last word before getting to her feet and beginning to pace—a bad sign.

You’d decided to try slipping the whole ‘your archnemesis came to see me’ thing into the conversation as smoothly as possible when you showed up at the salon—buttering her up first with kisses and light conversation and a fresh (if not a little banged-up) beignet, then tactfully broaching the topic.

Then again, the rage splayed across Marie’s regal features is evidence enough that it probably wouldn’t have made a difference either way.

“That fuckin’ bitch,” she growls. “She’s got no idea who she’s messin’ with—”

“Marie, please,” you try, setting aside your beignet and getting to your feet. “You’re gonna wear a hole through the carpet.”

Marie stops briefly, glances down at said carpet—a beautiful, Persian-style rug—and promptly continues her pacing with a growl.

“Fuck the carpet,” she snaps, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. You can’t help but lose focus for a moment at the definition of her arms… the way her muscles jump and flex with every slight moveme—Ahem.

Focus, you scold yourself.

“Baby, she didn’t even hurt me—”

“Yet,” Marie reviles, finally stopping her pacing to bore down on you. It’s of little consequence. You’re not scared of her. You know she’d never do anything to harm you. “She has no right to even look at you, much less—”

She stops herself there before her temper can get the best of her, inhaling deeply.

Seeing an opportunity, you step into her space, gently tucking the stiff braids back over her shoulder until you can loop your arms around her neck.

She looks down at you with conflict in her eyes, and you don’t dare look away. It takes a beat or two, but finally, her strong arms come to curl around your waist—pulling you flush against her body even as her arms tremble around you like you’re spun from glass, like she’s scared she’ll break you if she holds you even a little bit tighter.

No matter. You’ll take what you can get.

“I’m fine, Marie,” you tell her earnestly, tilting your jaw up to let her look you in the eye so she knows you mean it. “She didn’t harm me. I promise.”

Marie purses her lips, but nods. You don’t think she quite believes you.

“I was a little scared, sure,” you admit, keeping your body lax as her arms tighten around you—holding you impossibly closer as if to remind herself that what you’re saying is true: that you’re here, and you’re okay. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle, okay?”

You decide to save the part where Fiona said she’d be seeing you again ‘very soon’ for later—not too much later, but maybe tonight, at least. Marie’s got more than enough to worry about, and besides—there’s nothing to be done about it right now.

If Fiona Goode wants to see you, she’ll find a way—come hell or high water.

Marie still looks torn, but eventually she nods, lowering her forehead to press against yours. “Anything like this happens again, you call me,” she says, voice trembling with emotion. “Got it?”

You lean in to place a feather-light kiss upon her lips, lingering just a little to lap up the bit of powdered sugar over her mouth.

“Okay,” you agree once you pull away, licking any remnants of powder off your own lips with a self-satisfied grin.

Marie huffs out a laugh even as the solemn—almost contemplative—look in her eye remains. “You’re mine, okay?” she murmurs after a quiet moment, her eyes searching yours. “Just mine.”

Immediately, you nod, lunging up for another kiss that’s wet and open-mouthed and desperate—just the way you like it. Her hands slip beneath the hem of your tank, creeping up your back until you whimper in her mouth—and fuck her, but she knows exactly what she’s doing to you, if the smirk pressing into your parted lips is any indication.

“Yours,” you pull away to whisper breathlessly before crashing your lips back into hers, suckling the tip of her tongue just the way she likes until she lets out a groan that reverberates through your bones—setting your very body alight with desire and want.

There’s something ferocious—almost wild—about her as she backs you up against the nearest wall, assaulting your lips with kisses hard enough to bruise, and tearing at your clothes until they’re nothing but tattered bits of fabric littering the floor.

(Whatever. You can go shopping before dinner.)

And you… well. You think that your feelings on the matter are perfectly clear—what with the way you’re whining and mewling and grinding against her thigh, smearing her tawny skin with your copious slick, begging her to let you touch her back because you need it so fucking bad.

Hm. Maybe you should piss her off more often.

— —

end notes: CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW DEFINED ANGELA BASSETT’S UPPER BODY IS??? HER ARMS ????

anyway, if you’ve ever been to café du monde, you know their beignets are fye. if you haven’t, you GOTTA go dude. they slap. also the french quarter (jackson square particularly) is lit at all hours of the night, especially during NOLA

also did anyone else find themselves lowkey attracted to papa legba and his super deep voice? asking for a friend

link to masterlist

#muST I DO EVERYTHING MYSELF??#kidding. (mostly)#might cross-post this on ao3 eventually #stuff i wrote #marie laveau x reader #marie laveau #ahs fic #ahs: coven fic #american horror story: coven fic #american horror story fic #reader-insert #f!reader #marie laveau x f!reader

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kinglivv · 4 years ago

Text

Distractions

Whittaker!Master x Reader

Summary: You're trying to participate in a Zoom class and the Master's trying to get your attention.

Warnings: Implied smut, corona virus mention

A/N: For all the people now doing online classes/meetings because they suck bro. Please let me know if you liked it :)

"And that is why, although fusion reactors are a genius solution to our energy needs, they currently don't work."

Your professor flicks over to the next powerpoint slide and you groan internally, willing for the class to be over soon. You were sat in the TARDIS library, attempting to get to grips with online learning - you might be able to escape a pandemic on Earth via the Master's TARDIS, but it was still very much going on down there without you and as a result, your university tutorials and lectures had been moved online.

You're leaning forward to copy something down into your notepad when suddenly you feel arms slide down around your neck and blonde hair tickling your cheek. You tear your gaze away from your laptop to look at the Master, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Morning." You comment.

"Morning." She grins. "What's this?"

"My tutorial."

She frowns. "Isn't that a thing you're meant to do on Earth at one of those... umniversity thingys?"

"University." You correct. "And there's a pandemic remember? 2021? Everything's online for now."

"Oh yeah," She says nonchalantly. "Although you know it's alright in the end, don't you?"

"Spoilers." You reply dismissively.

"Y/N?" Your professor's voice suddenly pipes up and you return your attention to the screen. "Can you give us the two types of nuclear fission?"

Trying to ignore the Master clinging to you, you turn on your microphone.

"Spontaneous and..."

"Induced." The Master whispers in your ear, lips brushing over it and sending a small shiver down your spin.

"Induced." You finish, and turn your microphone off when your professor seems satisfied with your answer.

"I don't see why you bother with this." The Master waves her hand at the screen.

"I started my physics degree long before I met you, and I fully intend to finish it."

"Why do a degree in limited Earth physics when I can take you all around the universe and teach you it myself?"

"Because me saying 'Oh yes, my psychopath alien girlfriend taught me it all!' on my CV isn't going to get me a job." You retort. You lean over and highlight something in your textbook and she follows, still wrapped around you. If it was anyone else, you would bat them away, but the smell of her cologne is intoxicating.

"Humans know nothing about physics, believe me. It's a waste of time." She tells you. "Besides I'm sure there's much more... interesting things you could be doing."

With that, she presses a kiss to your jaw, elicting a faint 'oh' from your mouth, quite involuntarily. You attempt to shake her off, but she persists.

"Master." You warn as she moves onto your throat, nipping slightly, but she pays you no heed, continuing her onslaught. You bite your lip and mentally thank your past self for not turning on your laptop camera for this class - you'd originally thought that the imposing background of the TARDIS library would raise a few too many eyebrows, but you hadn't even considered that the Master might decide to wander into shot.

A hand begins to slide down your front, and you catch it quickly before it can reach anywhere too receptive.

"Master." You repeat, trying to pay attention to your computer.

You lean foward to write something, deliberately attempting to shrug her off. To your relief, she pulls away, but when you sit back again you don't have a chance to stop her before she plonks herself down in your lap.

"Oi!" You hiss, and she just grins back at you sweetly.

Thankfully she doesn't attempt to do anything else and instead just idily flicks through your textbook, scoffing at the content.

"Please - this is first year academy stuff."

Suddenly, one of your classmates pipes up.

"Professor, could you please go over the Nuclear fusion content again?"

"Again?" The Master sniffs. "Human's are such nano-brains."

You swat her and she just smirks, wiggling in your lap.

"I just don't get the chain reaction part." The student says after the Professor's explained it again.

"Oh, for Rassilon's sake." The Master rolls her eyes and reaches out to ummute you, supposedly to tell the student off for being such an incompetent primitive numbskull, but you catch her hand just in time, yanking it away and earning you a glare.

"How can you put up with this?" She exasperates.

"You," You say pointedly, "have the temperment of a child. Or a cat."

Her face lights up.

"I was actually a cat once! Well, not strictly a cat, more of a cheetah-"

"Now... could you tell us Y/N?"

You freeze at the your teacher's voice. You hadn't heard the question.

It's at this wildly innapropriate moment that the Master decides it would be a good time to lean in and begin pressing her lips to your throat again. You bite back a moan.

"Y/N?" The teacher says again at your silence.

"She asked you how to calculate residual energy from a nuclear reaction." The Master mumbles helpfully against your jaw, no doubt smudging lipstick onto it.

Hastily, you reach forward and turn on your microphone.

"Sorry, E=mc squared - ah." You swallow a gasp as the Master bites down. Reaching up, you thread a hand into her hair and pull her away roughly, which only serves to make the Master whimper and her eyes light up. You frantically reach out and put yourself on mute again, praying they hadn't heard that.

"Aren't you meant to be cleaning the rotors?" You hiss. You had barely seen her all morning.

"I was." She loops her arms around your neck and gives you a grin that reminds you so vividly of Missy.

"Why aren't you now?"

"I got bor-ed." She drags out the word and then leans in, red lips finally landing on yours and you let her kiss you all sweet and deep, tongue swiping over your lips tauntingly.

"I really need to finish this lecture." You say, breath dancing over her lips when the kiss breaks.

"I could always just get on my knees for you right here, love." She teases and you feel your cheeks go red.

"I'm not missing class."

"I learned this stuff before I was even a teenager, babe. I could teach you everything you missed in ten minutes."

"They'll notice I'm gone." You try to protest, but there's really no resistance left in your voice anymore, not when her hand's stroking over your cheek and through your hair like that.

"Tell them your internet broke."

"We're on a very well functioning space ship, I hardly think-"

She silences you with another kiss, a hand reaching out behind her to close your laptop. Without another word, you allow her to pull you up from your desk and lead you out of the library.

How could you prioritise a Zoom class over someone like her?

Taglist: @truthbehindthemysteries @queerconfusionthings @xenteaart @actuallyanita @ateliefloresdaprimavera @persephonehemingway @fabulous-jj-style @anteroom-of-death

#doctor who #13th doctor #series 12 #the master #13th doctor x reader #jodie whittaker x reader #jodie whittaker #whittaker!master x reader #doctor who fanfic #whittaker!master #thirteenth doctor x reader #13 x reader #the master x reader #corona mention #13th doctor imagine

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Superheroes Don’t Take Sick days

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Reader

Word Count: 2,190

Warnings: Marcus gets sick with the flu and suffers the symptoms, including vomiting and passing out.

Marcus rarely gets sick. However, when he does, it’s bad. Very bad. Plagued by the flu, he has no one to turn to. No one except his PA and significant other, who demands he goes home to rest. When he refuses, they decide to take matters into their own hands.

“Mr. Moreno?” You knocked on the door to Marcus’s office, a stack of folders cradled in your arms. “Mr. Moreno?”

“Come in.”

You kicked the door open with your foot, doing your best to balance the various paperworks. Marcus lifted his head off his desk, staring at you. “How many times do I have to ask you to just call me Marcus?”

“We are at work,” you pointed out, setting the folders on Marcus’s desk. “At work, I address you formally. Because it is, say it with me now, a formal work environment.”

Marcus grumbled under his breath, opening the folder on top. “Huh. This is,”

“A lot?” You finished for him, leaning on the edge of the desk and examining Marcus. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped in and head bowed slightly. His glasses sat on the desk next to his phone, both of which were smudged to the high heavens. You grabbed his glasses and instinctively began to clean them, knowing he hated doing it himself. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yep!” Marcus said, leaning back and pressing his palms into his eyes. “Just tired. Missy was up all night, and so was I.”

You put Marcus’s glasses down. “Oh no! What happened?”

Marcus shrugged. “She’s just sick.”

You raised an eyebrow. “She’s sick,” you repeated, a familiar exasperation in your voice. You loved Marcus a lot and knew that he was super smart, but sometimes he could be really thick when it came to common sense.

“Yeah?” Marcus looked up at you, clearly confused. “Why are you using that tone?”

“Marcus,” you said plainly. “You are also sick. Go home.”

“I’m not sick!” Marcus insisted, putting his glasses on and moving closer to his desk.

You nodded, sliding off his desk. “I’m going to go grab Dr. Thirteen. We’ll see who’s right.”

The walk down to the medical wing of the building was quick, considering it was just below the offices. The doctor, a wonderful young blonde woman with an accent so thick you could hardly understand her half the time, agreed to come with you to check Marcus out.

“He did seem rather under the weather earlier,” she said as you two walked. “Came in asking for DayQuil.”

You swore under your breath. “I swear, if he’s got something serious I will murder him.”

Thirteen laughed, opening Marcus’s office door. “Oh boy.”

Marcus looked up, yet again, from his desk. He’d been using his arms as a pillow, glasses off once more. “Hey Thirteen.”

“Marcus,” Thirteen chided, going over to stand next to him. He kicked his chair around so he was facing her, letting her do her job. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh.” Marcus looked from her to you and back again. “Like shit?”

Thirteen sighed, taking her stethoscope out of her coat pocket and setting it around her neck. “Feverish?” She asked, resting her wrist against Marcus’s forehead.

“Little bit.”

“Cough?”

“Yeah.”

“Congested?”

“Definitely.”

Thirteen made a face. “Nausea?”

Marcus started to get nervous, hands twisting in his lap. “Yes?”

“Okay.” Thirteen looked at you. “Take him home, by any means necessary. I’ll tell the boss, but he’s on medical leave for the next week, with recommended bed rest for forty eight hours.”

“What?” Marcus said. “But I don’t feel that bad.”

Thirteen shrugged. “You will. You have the flu, which is unsurprising given the season.”

“Oh.” Marcus looked at his desk, eyeing the folders stacked up on it. “Can I stay and finish my work?”

“No,” you and Thirteen said at the same time.

Marcus sighed. “Fine. I’ll go home. Coming with?” He directed the last question at you, and you nodded.

“Of course. If Missy’s sick too, then someone has to be there to take care of you. Also, I don’t want you driving.”

You managed to herd Marcus to the car with little issue, but he really didn’t look good. You had to repeat yourself three times when you asked him to put his seatbelt on, and he kept getting paler and paler until you were actually really worried.

“We’re gonna make a stop at CVS,” you said, turning into the parking lot. “If you go in, you have to wear a mask.”

Marcus, ever the stubborn hero, staggered to his feet and went somehow even paler, the last bit of color draining from his face as he wobbled in place.

“And we’re gonna leave you here,” you said, standing in front of him and crossing your arms.

“But,” Marcus said, his voice thick with congestion.

You cut him off before he could continue. “You wanna walk by yourself through CVS? Okay, let’s see it then.” You positioned yourself barely ten feet away, maybe three or four steps. Marcus shakily shuffled forward before almost toppling right over. You caught him, turning him back towards the car.

“No, put your hand- oh my god! Marcus!”

Marcus didn’t respond. He’d gone entirely limp in your arms, eyes rolled back. You got him back into the car, and by then, he’d woken back up, still delirious.

“I’m going in,” you said slowly, buckling Marcus back in. “I am cracking the windows and locking the car. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Just as promised, it was the fastest CVS run you’d ever made. Some Gatorade, medication, tissues, Clorox wipes, Lysol spray, and a few cans of soup later, you were back in the car. Marcus looked over, eyes half open. “Huh?”

“If you’re like this,” you said, starting the car. “I hate to think what Missy’s like back home.”

Missy was not as bad as Marcus. Laying on the couch, she barely had the energy to turn her head as you practically carried Marcus inside, but she was conscious, which you appreciated. “Dad?”

You winced at her scratched up voice. “Hey honey,” you said, laying Marcus in his recliner. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like crap,” Missy admitted. “Dad said it was probably just the sniffles or something, but then it got worse.”

Nodding, you handed Missy a box of tissues, nudging the trash can closer to the couch with your foot. “I don’t think it’s just the sniffles this time,” you said. “Where’s the thermometer?”

You took Missy’s temperature. She was at 100.7, which you decided could’ve been so much worse. You gave her a decongestant and a Gatorade, rubbing her back as she coughed violently.

“Marcus,” you said, standing. Marcus hummed in acknowledgment.

“Here.” You handed him the thermometer. “Take your temperature.”

You turned back to Missy, who was zoned out. “Missy, honey, let me clean your blanket.”

She grumbled as you took the filthy blanket, muttering out that she was cold.

“I know you’re feeling cold,” you said, tossing the blanket in the laundry. “But your blanket is dirty. I’ll grab you a clean one.”

As you gave Missy a new blanket, you heard the thermometer beep, Marcus pulling it out of his mouth and looking at it.

“Let me see,” you said, holding a hand out.

Marcus tucked the thermometer to his side. “Just 100, like Missy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Give me the thermometer.”

“But-“

“Marcus Moreno, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give me that thermometer.”

Marcus handed the thermometer over, a guilty look on his face.

The thermometer read 101.5.

“Marcus!” You scolded, putting the thermometer down and pressing your wrist to his forehead. Sure enough, he was burning up. “No wonder you passed out earlier!”

Missy looked up. “He passed out?”

“In the CVS,” you said, grabbing another blanket for Marcus. “No biggie.” You really didn’t want to worry her, even though it definitely was a big deal.

By noon, everyone was sound asleep aside from you. You were sitting in the living room with a book, listening to Marcus’s and Missy’s labored breathing. Every so often, Missy would kinda wake up and shift, but Marcus remained solidly asleep until noon.

You put your book down, hearing Missy wake up as you rummaged through the kitchen. Grabbing a saucepan and a can of soup, you began to make lunch.

Missy trudged to her feet, joining you in the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Hey sweetie,” you said, checking her temperature. “Your fever’s finally starting to break.”

Missy perked up a bit at that. “Do I have time to go shower?”

“Sorry,” you said, stirring the soup. “Nope. After lunch though, absolutely.”

Missy ended up eating at the table, her blanket still around her shoulders. You, instead of joining her, did your level best to wake Marcus up.

“Marcus.” You shook his shoulder slightly. “Marcus. Darling. Sweetheart. Light of my fucking life. Missy do not ever repeat that! Marcus! Christ, what the hell?”

Marcus’s eyes cracked open. “The fuck?” He slurred. “Missy, don’t repeat that.”

Missy snorted and left to go bathe.

“I made lunch,” you said, holding up the bowl of soup you’d made for him. “Eat.”

“Not hungry.”

You raised an eyebrow, and yet again, Marcus shrunk back with that horribly guilty look.

“Fine,” he said softly, taking the bowl and fumbling with his spoon. You were on standby, which was a good thing, because barely ten minutes into the small bites of soup, Marcus startled to his feet, fell to his knees, and threw up on the carpet.

“Shit!” You yelled, helping Marcus away from the now dirtied carpet patch. “Oh fuck. Marcus, you okay?”

Marcus shook his head, eyes full of tears.

“Oh baby,” you said softly, hugging him and helping him up onto the couch. “Babe, hey, it was an accident. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Just fine. It’ll pass.”

Marcus clung to you, sobbing openly. You rubbed his back, letting him bury himself in your shirt.

At one point, Missy came back, peering into the living room. “Dad?”

You shook your head, waving her away. She glanced from Marcus to the carpet and then back again. “Oh. Okay.”

Eventually, you managed to get Marcus calm. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, and you laid a soft kiss on his forehead. “Marcus, darling, stay here. I’m gonna clean the carpet, okay?”

Marcus nodded, hugging a pillow tight as you got up to grab the cleaning supplies. He watched with half open eyes as you cleaned the carpet, never once complaining.

When you finally stood, he made a small noise, drawing your attention. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too Marcus.”

Everything in the Moreno household was calm throughout the rest of the day. Missy was getting better, able to make a phone call to Anita to reassure her that she and Marcus were okay. Marcus wasn’t feeling much better, so you and him cuddled on the couch, his head resting on your chest as you absently scratched through his hair. He napped for a bit, occasionally waking up and complaining he felt gross. You pointed out that he was still sick and encouraged him to drink more Gatorade before he fell asleep again.

Dinner was more soup, at which Marcus complained.

“Oh hush,” you said, putting the bowl in front of him. “Do not waste your voice complaining about soup you cannot taste.”

Marcus stuck his tongue out at you and took another bite of soup.

Missy went to bed shortly after dinner, the sickness sapping her energy. You sent her off with a kiss to the forehead and a promise to call the school and tell them she wouldn’t be going tomorrow.

“And you, mister,” you said, sitting next to Marcus on the couch and turning on Wheel of Fortune. “Aren’t going to work for the next week.”

“What?”

You smiled, feeling Marcus shuffle and lay in your lap. “You heard Thirteen this morning. Medical leave for a week.”

Marcus sighed, relaxing as you rubbed his shoulders. “Fine.”

Somehow, you two fell asleep on the couch, curled up in each other’s embrace. When you woke up the next morning, Marcus felt a bit better. But you had started to sniffle.

“Ha! Payback’s a bitch!” Marcus said when you took your temperature and sighed.

“Marcus. Sit the hell down before you pass out again.”

Marcus sat on the couch, a shit eating grin on his face. “Mhm. Kiss me.”

You raised an eyebrow, crawling across the couch until you were practically on top of Marcus. “Hmm,” you hummed, feeling his body heat underneath you. “Kissing you is what got me sick. I think not.”

You rolled off him, leaving one very betrayed boyfriend behind on the couch.

“Hey wait! You can’t just leave!”

Looking behind you, you smiled as sweetly as you could. “What? I don’t recall doing anything wrong Mr. Moreno.”

Marcus’s face twisted into a feral grin. “Oh you are so lucky that Missy’s in her room. Get over here.”

You laughed as he scooped you up, carrying you to your bedroom. “Marcus! You’re still sick! Be careful!”

Marcus plopped you down on the bed and quickly followed, trapping you under the warm blankets with his own body. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Oh Marcus,” you said, thumbing over the patches in his facial hair. “I love you.”

“Love you too babe, now get some sleep.”

Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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soulssung · 3 years ago

Note

2022 mudou a gente suhahusauhsauhashuhsuauhasusah

Mas vou te falar que quase te cobrei 12 reais pelo link do vídeo SHAHUSAUHSAUHSAUHUHSAUHSAUHSAHU Mas pensei 'Agora não, tá muito tarde' KKKKKKKKKKKKK

É pq ele é gratinado, na real. Então tu só põe mussarela por cima. É gostoso, c devia experimentar. Não é tipo "CARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALHOOOO QUE COMIDÃAAAAAAO GOURMET DO MASTER CHEFFF" Mas é bom KKKKKKKKKKKK

Aaaa ss

Eu amo frango de churrasco tbm, mas normalmente não como porque o frango de churrasco é MTO quente. Tipo, ele fica mto mais quente que a carne. Eu não sei pq (Minha teoria atual é que o teor de água no frango é maior do que na carne e alguma coisa física determine que assar isso exige mais calor, mas pode ser o contrário. Mas é que eu tenho a impressão que o frango tem mais água que a carne. Não sei, de vdd) e sei como é. É tipo caldo verde pra mim kkkk ou feijão vermelho

Sou contra o sol kkkkkkkkkkkkk Eu vou pegar prescrição pra fazer reposição oral, pq não vai dar pra pegar sol suficiente. Eu preciso passar protetor solar e isso diminui né a conversão. Mas é isso ou câncer. Aí vou ver de comprar via oral.

O Chan só não casou comigo ainda porque não quer e não me conhece KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK A gente é mto alma gemea, cara. Chega. Ta me machucando de novo.

SUHAHUSAUHSAUHSAHUSAUHSHUA Eu entendo kkkk Eu gosto de ficar informada da vida dos meus amigos, mas nao falo nada pra ngm kkkkkkkkkkkkk É só a sensação de q c tá atualizado da vida alheia, né, que vai ficar por dentro das referencias kkkkk

P.S.: To mandando 130 asks e elas são enormes. Perdão.

é uma ask pra cada dia que a gente ficou sem cv (aproximadamente trinta anos).

e VOCÊ VIU!!!! são os chakras do ano novo botando a mão na sua cabeça falando pra vc não cobrar. você é uma mulher nova missy!!!!

KDKDKKDKD o trem do masterchef. eu vou ver se testo um dia e te falo, afinal todo mundo sabe que eu sou mt crítica culinária ne 🙄

e concordo com o trem do frango, sai quente pra caramba (tb não sei pq) mas sinceramente é o melhor que tem, não sei se é pq pra grelhar ele vc pode por pra marinar e ai ele pega mais tempero, mas nossa bom de mais da conta. pode ser neura minha tb mas pelo menos os comprados pra churrasco parece que vem com menos trem tipo veia etc? eu sou bem chata com carne (eu juro que não tenho paladar infantil ok mas tem coisa que eu sou bem mais enjoada pra comer e carne é uma delas 😭)

e sinceramente missy vc ta tentando entrar pro crepúsculo??? mas não vou julgar pois eu tb não saio lá tanto no sol (apesar de que eu adoro andar). e será que aqui vende aquelas vitaminas tipo bala de goma?? vejo o han comendo direto nos vídeos e deve ser bom ne jjjjjkk

e SIM! certeza que se o chan te conhce ele não larga mais de vc jdjdj (o ngc é vc escolher entre ele o changbin ne 😝)

e SIM DKKDKD tipo a única pessoa que eu conto fofoca é minha irmã e ela me conta as dela, o que não faz mt diferença pq na maioria das vezes ela não conhece de quem eu falo e eu não conheço as dela jdjdjk

#✉️ asks #♡ : missy

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scullydubois · 4 years ago

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 9

Back in DC, Missy helps Scully get to the bottom of what's plaguing her. As Scully's journey gets a bit clearer, Missy drops a bombshell about her own life.

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

Scully’s stomach clenches as the plane touches down on the runway, jostling she and the rest of the passengers around like pawns in its game. Only forty-eight hours ago, she and Mulder had lifted off toward another mystery, another puzzle daring them to solve it. Now she is back, knowing scarcely more than she did then, with a mystery of her own to solve. She is forever chasing ghosts, and trying not to become one.

As the winged giant rolls into its gate, Scully glances out the window. Thick clouds blanket the sky, an unending greyness rolling out over the city as far as the eye can see. So much for there’s no place like home. She’s been realizing lately that home is a feeling, not a location. Sometimes she feels like she needs a map to navigate her own apartment, or like everyone in DC knows some language she never learned. Well, almost everyone. There are a couple people who speak the same language as her.

And she’s about to see one of them now. The crowd of passengers--mostly suits who had sleepless nights-- stand up in their rows, ready to file out into the bureaucratic machine. The man on the outside of Scully’s row opens the overhead compartment and pulls down his bag and the carry-ons of Scully and the woman next to her. Scully thanks him demurely. She can’t remember the last time someone other than Mulder did that for her.

As they fall into line and shuffle off the plane, Scully wonders what her life will look like next time she boards a plane. With any luck, this will all be a fluke and she’ll be heading back to Aubrey tomorrow. Then again, even if it isn’t a fluke, she’ll still probably join Mulder back in Aubrey. She knows herself.

What would she say to him, then? Having to admit she lied about her reason for leaving, coming back with the type of news that turns worlds upside down...it doesn’t seem fair to him. It hasn’t been fair to her either, but that’s out of her hands.

She had knocked on Mulder’s door before the sun was even up. She hadn’t expected him to be awake, and so was particularly surprised when he came to the door with a towel around his waist. Evidently, he hadn’t expected her either (though who else is coming to his motel door at 6am?) because the longer she stood there in front of his barely dressed body, the more his color drained away.

Needing a lie lame enough to be true, Scully told him that Melissa had sprained her ankle and would need some help getting around for a couple days.That she asked Scully to come home rather than go stay with their mother, because who better to be nursed by than a doctor? Mulder had nodded, told Scully to go, assured her he could handle BJ and the case. Scully is sure that Mulder knows what she told him is a lie. But he didn’t object, and that’s the permission she needed to feel settled with him and herself.

She follows everyone off the plane, through the tunnel, and into the terminal. Moments like this remind her of her obsolescence in the universe, and she is somehow comforted by that. She is no chosen one, no messiah nor martyr, no mother of a holy child. She would like to stay that way.

She surveys the crowd waiting to pick up their beloved passengers. All of her fellow fliers, mere faces in her vicinity for an hour or two, are someone to somebody else. She is, too. They are all emerging from obscurity into a realm where they are known, for better or for worse.

At the edge of the crowd, Scully catches her sister’s unmistakable smile and glowing red locks. She saw her sister only two mornings before, but Missy reacts as if they’ve been separated a lifetime. She engulfs Scully in a hug that just about sends the butterflies in her stomach into hibernation.

“How are you feeling?” Missy asks, pulling away to scan her sister’s face for the honest answer she won’t give.

Aware of this, Scully turns the corners of her mouth up. “I’m okay, really. My migraine went away at about four in the morning.”

“So you barely slept,” Missy interjects.

Scully frowns. “Well, I laid in bed from roughly eight to six. There was sleeping involved at some point, I think.”

“How about on the plane? Did you sleep there?”

“No, you know I can never sleep with strangers around.”

“Oh, right. Did they teach you that at the Academy or something?”

“The things I saw at the Academy taught me that.”

“Oh.” Missy regrets bringing it up. As they head toward the luggage area, she holds out her hand, lets her sister place the handle of her carry-on in it. A silent apology, an acknowledged acceptance.

“So what did you end up telling Mulder?”

Scully is endeared that she has successfully chipped away at her sister’s tendency to call him by his first name.

“Oh god, you’re gonna think it’s so stupid.”

Missy laughs. “What did you say?”

Scully’s voice is rife with amusement. “I told him that you sprained your ankle and needed a doctor around to take care of you.”

Melissa bursts into laughter. “Good girl.” Scully would kick a man in the groin if he ever said that to her, but coming from her sister, it’s high praise.

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

They ignore the elephant in the room until they make it to Missy’s car. The plastic of a CVS bag rustles at Scully’s feet as she settles into the passenger seat.

“Three pregnancy tests,” Melissa explains. “I stopped on the way.”

“You didn’t have to--”

“But I did.” That had been their father’s comeback whenever someone tried to, as he called it, ‘pity the helper.’ They both smile just a bit, their memory of him alive and well.

“Can I pay you back?”

“No!” Missy insists. “I’m living with you rent free.”

Scully decides this is a good enough reason to let it go. She crosses her legs, watches her sister pull out of the space. She lets a question float around her head until they make it out of the labyrinth of airport side roads.

“Do you think I would be a good mother?”

Missy flicks her gaze toward her sister. Dana is peculiar in her way. Instead of fishing for sympathy like most people when they ask questions of this nature, she expects punishment. She’s practically asking to have a nail hammered into her cross.

“You’d be a wonderful mother, Dana,” Missy soothes. “You’ve never had a bad intention in your life.”

“Haven’t I?...I killed a snake with Bill and Charlie once.”

“And you cried afterward. I remember seeing the tear stains on your face when you got home. Not to mention that you were what, five or six?”

“Well, what about Daniel? Surely my judgement was wrong there.”

Melissa sighs. “Okay, I’ll rephrase it. Any bad intention you’ve ever had was paid for with regret, and that’s not true about most people.” She frowns. “It’s always the purest souls who are the hardest on themselves.”

Scully stares through the windshield. She will expend no brainpower on her sister’s implication. She doesn’t believe it to be true.

After a moment--“Do you remember those Raggedy Ann dolls we had, Betsy and Betty?”

Melissa smiles, nods. “Of course. Betsy was yours, and Betty was mine. We had those little wooden bassinets for them.”

“Right.”

Missy lets the memories flow back to her. “We used to sing lullabies and rock them to sleep. Actually, I’d sing, you’d pray with them. Mom and dad thought it was the sweetest thing ever, and I would get so mad at you. I thought you were sucking up to them.”

Scully laughs. This is the first time she’s heard of her sister’s woes. “Missy, I was three. There was no conspiring going on.”

“Say what you will, but your stocking was always a little bit fuller than mine.” She smirks at her sister, who blushes and looks at her lap.

Dana has the unfortunate distinction, at least in Melissa’s mind, of being the favorite daughter. Bill Jr. always was and will be the favorite child. He molded to all their parent’s expectations of him, never deviating from the upstanding family man they imagined when holding him for the first time. Dana had done well up until she decided on the Academy. As Missy reminded her countless times, it wasn’t that they hated her going into the FBI. It just wasn’t in their vision for her, that’s all.

Missy doesn’t fret about her place, even finds it somewhat funny. She isn’t the least favorite child per say (thanks Charlie!) but she is the least favorite child her mother is still in contact with, and that’s a title that takes some maneuvering.

Scully laces her fingers together, rests them in her lap. “Do you remember telling me that I wasn’t a good mommy one night when we were putting Betsy and Betty to sleep?”

Melissa looks to her sister so quickly she practically forgets she needs to be watching the road. “No, of course not.”

Scully can’t meet her gaze. “Well, I know it’s a silly thing, and we were just children, but it’s stayed stuck in my brain for all these years.”

“Dana, you had probably just finished a ‘now I lay me down to sleep’ prayer, and I felt like I needed to knock you down a notch.” She pats her sister’s shoulder. “There was no truth in it, and I’m sorry it’s bugged you for so long.”

Scully shifts in her seat. The CVS bag crackles as her heels bear down on it. “I’m afraid it’s turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy at this point.”

Melissa won’t give weight to her sister’s worries, but won’t discount them either. “The good news about a self-fulfilling prophecy is that you can always change your thinking...You don’t believe in psychics, so don’t try to be one.”

Scully looks at the dashboard, then her sister. “I would hug you right now if we weren’t doing 75,” she coos.

Something has clicked in her head, some comfort she has long been depriving herself of. Sometimes words fill in the cracks left by those that preceded them. The right words go even further, it turns out. The right words give you permission to heal.

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

A dreadful anticipation plagues her as she and Missy walk up to the apartment. She wants to get it over with, even if it goes badly (and she knows it very well might). She craves the relief of surviving such an ordeal. Scully imagines that this is what the French must have felt on their walk to the guillotine. Except instead of the relief of surviving, they got the release of death. Scully is not ready for this yet.

Missy unlocks the door, ushers her sister in. Dana is not used to coming home and finding things in different places than before, Missy can tell from the inquisitive look on her face. She is surveying her territory, updating her memory bank. Looking for the exit signs, maybe.

Melissa closes and locks the door. Letting her sister set the pace, she leaves the CVS bag on the side table. Dana has already taken the carry-on and suitcase to her room.

Her room, Scully finds, is a shrine to sameness, everything looking exactly as she left it two days before. Untouched and completely under her control...these are the reassurances she requires now. She lifts the suitcase onto her bed but leaves it zipped. Its fate is no clearer than hers at the moment. Then she places the carry-on on her dresser, makes a mental note to let Mulder know she made it home safely, and returns to her sister in the living room.

“Have you eaten?’ Missy asks, edging toward the kitchen.

“I won’t be able to until we get this over with,” Scully replies, making her priorities clear.

“Okay.” Missy won’t fight her on this one. She retrieves the bag off the side table, perches at her sister’s side. “Are you ready now?”

Scully screws up her face. “No, but yes. I just need to know at this point.”

Missy takes her sister’s hand with a specific kind of gentleness, like a fairy godmother about to cast a spell upon her princess. Scully is willing to be led. She follows her sister into the bathroom and sits on the closed toilet while Missy pulls the pregnancy tests from the bag. Scully tries not to think about any moment beyond the current one as her sister opens each test, lines them up along the counter.

“Do you want me in here or outside?” Missy’s tone matches the sympathy that Scully needs.

“Outside, please,” Scully says sheepishly, wishing she could have some guts for once. If no one else witnesses this moment, then maybe it’s not happening. Flawed reasoning that even Mulder wouldn’t agree with, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Okay. I’ll be right on the other side of the door.”

Scully nods her thanks as Missy slips out of the bathroom and shuts the door quietly. Left alone, she feels the crushing gravity that has been trailing her all along. She’s almost certain that her heartbeat would be visible through her skin if she looked.

She stands, picks up the first test, opens the toilet. Her hands shake so violently that she thinks she might drop the stick in the toilet, which would be a pretty terrible way to return her sister’s kindness. She pulls it away and takes a deep breath to steady herself, holding her arms out in front of her like a sleepwalker. All the things she’s seen, and she’s never been as scared as this moment. Never felt the life she knows and has grown to love so acutely threatened. Never balked at the future in such a fervent way.

It occurs to her that she might seriously need her sister to come in and help her. The thought of that is just pathetic enough to kick her into action. Her hands are barely any more steady than before, but her resolve is ironclad.

On the other side of the door, Melissa listens as a long period of silence is broken. She’s sitting down, her head resting against the wood, a hand laid against the door like it’s the chest of a lover.

Silence again, ruptured by Scully’s quiet murmur. “Will you hold on to the test, please? And read the result when it’s ready?” She didn’t know she would need this, but she does.

“Of course.”

Scully cracks open the door, passes the stick to her sister. “I wiped it off.”

Missy suppresses a laugh. “I wouldn’t care if you didn’t, but thank you.”

Scully closes the door quickly, not wanting to hold eye contact with her sister, not wanting to accidentally see the result herself. “Two minutes, right?” Her voice is on the verge of breaking.

“Yes, Dana. Two minutes.”

“Should I wait to do the next one?”

Missy eyes the test, waiting for it to make up its mind. “You can go ahead. It’ll take two minutes too.”

“Okay.” Scully’s voice is barely audible.

“Or you can wait,” Missy offers. “I just suspect that you’d want to check the accuracy as soon as possible.”

“Uh-huh.” She grabs the second test, wearily sits back down.

Missy’s voice reverberates through the door. “I’ve done this before you know. For myself and for a friend.”

“Really?” Scully’s brain had tricked herself into thinking she was all alone.

“Mm-hm,” Missy confirms. “Mine were never positive, but hers were. I went to Planned Parenthood with her.”

“Oh.” There are things, Scully realizes, that she has neglected to think about. Or maybe she’s putting that off until she knows for sure. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more of an act of self-preservation. Her gut feeling is that she wouldn’t, but she never envisioned herself in a situation like this. If there’s any situation where it’s justified, it’s this, right? Not that she has a problem with it; women should be able to choose for themselves. She just always thought she knew what her choice would be.

Melissa lifts her eyes from her watch, looks at the door as if she can see her sister through it. “It’s ready.”

“It’s been two minutes?” Scully’s voice rises.

“Uh-huh. Do you want me to come in or…?”

Scully scrambles up, lays the second test on a fresh piece of toilet paper. “I’ll come to you.”

She opens the door, kneels to be eye level with her sister. Prayer position is in close proximity. She bites her lip, her dilated pupils begging her sister to either curse her or free her.

A thin smile appears on Missy’s face as she flips the test so that Scully can read it. “Negative.”

One line. One very defined red line set against the white space. Has anyone, Scully wonders, ever gotten a tattoo of that?

“I--” Tears burst out of her instead of words. She lands in her sister’s arms, utterly unsure of what she’s feeling. Relief, yes. Happiness? Not quite. Sadness? Something like that.

Missy smooths her sister’s hair down, holds her in the tightest hug she’s probably had in decades. “How do you feel?”

Scully is tempted to ask how her sister does that, always there with the tough questions. Instead, she gulps air until she’s calmed down enough to talk.

“I don’t know,” she laments, tears streaked down her reddened face. “I thought I would be glad but...I just feel numb. Like I went down the wrong fork in the road and missed something important, but I don’t even know what it is since it didn’t happen.” She sniffles. It sounds like a heart breaking. “I just know it’s supposed to be there.”

“I thought you didn’t want--”

“Not under these circumstances, no. But then...when else is it gonna happen?” Her voice is a sheet of glass. “Because it doesn’t look like any time soon.”

Missy hugs her once again, rocking her back and forth. She overflows with warmth, sympathy, and love. “Honey, you have plenty of time to make your life what you want it to be.”

Scully sobs into her sister’s neck. She feels like an emotional hemophiliac, constantly hemorrhaging pain. Every time she thinks she’s bottomed out, there’s farther to fall. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she says, wiping her face. “I didn’t know I would be.”

Missy pulls her in a third time. “Don’t ever apologize to me for anything, even the things you’re actually wrong about.”

Scully laughs half-heartedly. “Oh!” She realizes then. “We still have two more tests, don’t we?”

Missy nods, smiles empathetically. “The second one should be ready by now.”

Scully is about to get up, but Missy lays a hand on her back, beats her to it. “I’ll grab it.” She strides into the bathroom, picks the stick up off the counter, and takes a look. Again, she flips it so her sister can see. “Negative.”

Scully presses her lips together, a stopgap to any further emotional reaction. “We should do the third one then, just to be sure?”

Missy detects a lift in her sister’s voice, a space she’s made for hope. “Whatever you’d like, Dana.” It seems that her sister will always end up disappointed through no fault of her own, no matter what she wishes for. This chills Missy to the bone.

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

The sisters share dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets for lunch because this is the kind of food Melissa buys when left to her own devices. Missy dunks hers in honey mustard, Scully takes hers plain. Remnants of anxiety hang in the air; Scully’s plight remains unresolved, and they are well aware of that. Whatever path they are walking, this is just the beginning.

The phone interrupts their silent reverie, and Scully hops up to disguise the fact that its ringing made her jump. “It’s probably Mulder,” she tells her sister. “I meant to call him when we got home.” Missy nods, continues with her nuggets.

Scully grabs the phone off the wall. “Hello?”

“Hey, is Mel there?” It’s a sweet, flowery voice, very different from the one Scully expected. She furrows her brow. Could Mel refer to her sister? She’s never heard anyone call Melissa that. “Who is this?” Missy looks up, watches her sister curiously. It’s not Mulder, evidently.

The woman on the other line clears her throat. “It’s Trinity. Am I speaking to Dana?”

“Yes, this is Dana,” Scully says slowly, unnerved by the caller knowing her name. “Are you calling for Melissa?” Scully offers, hoping she might get out of this scot-free.

Hearing this, Missy wipes her hands on a napkin, gets up, and rushes toward Scully, holding her hand out for the phone.

Scully ignores her, keeps the phone to her own ear as the caller speaks to her. “I am, but I was actually wondering about you. Mel told me your worries. How are you doing, Dana?”

Scully is now particularly spooked. Who is this woman, and why does she know all of her business? Missy pokes Scully in the bicep, then gestures for the phone. Scully hasn’t seen her sister this greedily desperate since she snuck out the window when she was seventeen and needed Scully to unlock the front door so she could get back in before their parents woke up.

“Um, Trinity is it, Missy--Mel wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay! It was nice to finally meet you!” the cheery voice practically sings. Scully just nods and makes her usual ‘Mulder you’re crazy face’ as she hands the phone off to her sister.

“Hi, Trin.” Missy speaks in a rush. “I can’t really talk right now, but Dana is home and all the tests were negative so she’s doing okay. I’ll call you tonight, alright?”

Scully can hear the voice on the other line, but she can’t make it out. Her sister says “I love you, bye” into the phone, then hangs up.

Scully raises an eyebrow, feeling it her duty as the little sister to pry. “Who was that…?”

Missy puts the phone back on the wall, circles around to her plate, sits down. She answers calmly, casually. “That’s Trinity. She lives in Portland, we used to waitress together.”

Scully slides back into the seat across from her sister. “How come you’ve never mentioned her? She seems to know a lot about me.”

“Well, you’re the reason I moved to DC and all.”

“I didn’t know you were still in contact with anyone from the West Coast.” Scully picks a stray crumb off one of her nuggets, thankful that her sister is in the line of questioning for a change.

“I bounced around the area for three years, of course I have friends from there.” She grabs her own empty paper plate, points to her sister’s. “Are you done?”

Scully pushes the plate--with two uneaten chicken nuggets--toward Missy. “With the food, yes. Not with the questions.”

Melissa takes both of the plates to the trash, then rinses her hands in the sink. “Yes. Does that answer your question?”

“Depends. What do you think my question is?”

Missy dries her hands on the dish towel, swivels to face her sister. “Is Trinity my girlfriend? Because yes, she is.”

Scully’s mouth drops open the slightest bit. She had known Missy was bi, but she had never met any of her girlfriends, not even in passing. Missy tended to keep them to herself, fearing that the Scully family might encroach on the holy ground she created. “Really?” she asks excitedly.

“Uh-huh.” Missy sits back down at the table. “For nine months now.”

“Are you serious? That’s incredible, Missy! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Missy just raises her eyebrow. Scully feels like she’s looking in a mirror. “What? You know it doesn’t bother me.”

“Sure, but mom, and Bill…”

“I don’t think that mom would be upset by it,” Scully answers level-headedly. “Surprised maybe, but not mad.”

Missy balls up a napkin, tosses it back and forth between her own hands. “I don’t know that she would be, I just...don’t trust that she wouldn’t. And besides, nothing mom says or does will change how I feel about Trinity. So it’s not really a pressing issue. No need to cause a scene.”

“I can’t believe you moved here without mentioning her. I wouldn’t have let you leave her, you know.”

Missy laughs. “Oh, I do. That’s why I didn’t say a word.” Scully’s laugh is her first genuine one all day.

“She seems very nice,” Scully says, flicking a crumb off the table.

“Oh no, she’s a total bitch,” Missy replies. There’s a moment of silence while Scully figures out that was a joke, then they both laugh.

“Just kidding. I love her very much.” Missy’s smile could melt ice. “I’m glad you got to talk to her. Now my two favorite ladies have technically met!”

“I’m afraid to ask whether I’m in first or second place.”

Missy reaches out across the table. “I moved across the country for you, honey.” Then, with a smirk--”But I could move back any day now, so watch out!”

Scully smiles, nods. She can’t imagine what these past few weeks would have been like without her sister near. She hopes Missy never goes away again, as unrealistic a thought as it is. If there are angels on Earth, her sister is one. But Mulder too has emerged as a force in her life; no one destabilized her life quite like him, but he would be her rock if she let him, she knows this. She owes him a call. She knows that too.

#i think this is the best part so far #it's angsty as helllllllll #and two big reveals!!#the x-files #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf fanfic #txf #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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