#WHO thought if you folded a skinny little led screen over & over it would work out

[mildmayfoxe]

just got an ad for those new flip phones with the screen all the way through & since i knew the second i saw them originally that there’s no way they have a significant life span in use ive been asking everyone i encounter with one at work what they think and sure enough everyone has said they suck. one of the people i talked to was a mom who said she was on her second one already because the screen gets fucked up on the fold (big surprise) & her son was having the same problem & she regrets getting them even though they were fun for a while. why didn’t they just give it a normal hinge & two screens

[blue-mood-blue]

Juno’s vision fizzes out right around where the man’s face should be.

He rubs his eye. The interference doesn’t go anywhere, and he sighs. He’s already tired - always is, lately - but this, at least, is not on him. Will the wonders of modern technology never end, he thinks, and there’s a ping at the back of his head of what is probably admonishment. I’m right, he thinks back, stubborn.

The man sits down at his table. Juno leans back; the shadow already obscures his features, but something about not seeing the expression on the face of his unexpected guest makes Juno want to sink farther into the darkness. He doesn’t like being looked at - call it paranoia, call it being shy, whatever. When you have one person in the world - another ping at the back of his head - one and a half people in the world, being generous, most people’s attention loses its appeal.

Juno waits. He doesn’t talk much, anymore. His voice is... uniquely recognizable.

The man is probably smiling; his tone sounds teasing, and that’s about all Juno can glean from the unnaturally stilted sound. Audio distortion, too - whoever this is, the chip in Juno’s neck is throwing a blanket over Juno’s head in an outdated and unneeded attempt at protection. He would get angry, or suspicious, or march over to his partner in crime with a scalpel and demand it out of him, damn the consequences... but he knows the feeling of that shadow in his head, now. The chip doesn’t know why this is happening.

“Do I have the good fortune of speaking to one of the pair people are calling ‘the new Buddy and Vespa’?” The man is tall and skinny, and folds himself into the seat across from Juno like it was left out for him. Juno feels one of his fists clench and hopes the scowl isn’t clear on his face, visible or otherwise.

He’d like to correct the man; he’s not trying to be anyone else. Juno doesn’t speak. His voice would be a dead giveaway.

“Not much for conversation, hm? That’s fine. We don’t have much to talk about.” The man leans closer. Juno guesses that the look directed at him now is one of quiet intimidation; he can’t say, since the features are blurring out like static on an ancient television screen. “You’re here for the Maxine Rutherford job. I’m here to tell you to drop it.”

Juno tenses, and the thief - because that’s what he must be, if he’s here to talk another thief out of a job - must pick up on it, because he chuckles. “It’s a big ask, I’m aware. There’s a pretty penny to be had - that experimental technology is worth an incredible amount of money on its own, and that’s not even touching what might be gained from selling her out to a competitor.” There’s something in the way the thief is sitting, the set of his shoulders - or maybe it’s just the chip in Juno’s neck, setting off urgent warning signals. This is a threat. “But I need you to understand something. Maxine Rutherford is mine. And you do not want to be in my way when I get to her.”

Juno pushes the panic button in his head, the one that will bring Jet running. And he’ll need to run, because Juno’s about to do something incredibly stupid.

“Not if I get to her first,” Juno says in two voices. The thief is still, and if he’s afraid, Juno doesn’t blame him. He remembers the way he felt, the first time he heard the Theia layered under his words.

~~~

The detour wasn’t part of Buddy Aurinko’s plan. Even calling it “on the way” would have been generous; the Carte Blanche should have passed it like it had a hundred other space stations, and it would have. It would have, except for the seven names Rita had been listening for ever since she left Hyperion.

“It doesn’t hafta mean anything,” she’d told Juno, holding her tablet to her chest and looking nervous. He remembers thinking it wasn’t her usual kind of nervous, with fretful energy and too much talking - she’d been holding onto the tablet like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground. “Maybe it’s not even the same person, but. But I was doin’ some listening, you know, and a name came up, and.” Juno remembers thinking she looked almost sick, saying it out loud. “One of those names. And the soul.”

Juno doesn’t know what he thought he could do about it. He’d wanted to try, and when he and Rita went to Buddy, when he’d forced the bones of what happened in Hyperion from his throat and onto the kitchen table during a family meeting... they’d all wanted to try. Maybe that had been his mistake, Juno considers. He could have been quiet. He could have let it go.

It started with an infiltration. The Dogstar Space Station was small, relatively, but it was still the size of two major cities; finding Maxine Rutherford in the crowd would take some looking, with or without Rita’s ‘listening.’ Juno and Jet would go first, bumbling tourists who might, if they were lucky, stumble across a newly-acquired lab space. The idea was to uncover everything they could - location, security systems, layout, plans - and then get back to the ship to decide a next step. Juno packed for a short surface stay. He pulled the last Theia soul from where he’d stowed away in the back of a drawer and, after a long moment and with no clear reason, put it in his pocket. He squeezed Rita and whispered in her ear that he’d be okay when she had a hard time letting go. He kissed Nureyev and promised to call. He walked away and he didn’t look back.

Twenty-four hours later, the siege started.

That’s what the reporters on the hotel’s screen called it, while Juno and Jet sat on the edge of the couch and watched everything change. Some kind of hostile takeover, a grab for power or property or... something. The reporters didn’t know, and if the way they looked off-camera during their reports was any hint, there wouldn’t be time to find out.

If there are gaps in his memory after that, Juno thinks it can only be that he doesn’t want to remember. There’s him, running behind Jet through streets that are eerily quiet and terrifyingly loud by turns. Hiding, and running, and hiding - the thought that it’s a good goddamn chance Jet seems to know where he’s going because Juno is already lost, the shouting of soldiers behind them, the emblem on a ship Juno spends just a little too long looking at because something is wrong. The two of them finding a back entrance to the docks, using the chaos to cover them. The... wreck.

Juno will never forget the wreck.

They must have hit the docks first, is his first thought. It’s the last semblance of reason over the high, keening sound that’s enveloping the rest of his brain - they must have hit the docks first so no one could get out, they must have destroyed every waiting ship to keep the people of the Dogstar Space Station right where they were, because there is nothing but wreckage and broken parts.

Juno might have screamed. It might have been Jet. It might have been someone else, any voice out of hundreds speaking for all of them: loss, despair, desperation. It didn’t matter; the damage was done, and they were alone.

Jet held his hand. Weeks, months - however long they survived on the Dogstar after that, it was with Jet holding his hand and Juno clinging back. There were names they didn’t say for a long, long time but they held onto each other while the soldiers-who-weren’t-soldiers rounded up stragglers and led them to the government facilities that didn’t belong to any government Juno had ever heard of. They were lucky enough to have each other, but it didn’t feel like luck; it felt like borrowed time.

(He said he would call, and he did. He called, once, and he didn’t know what he expected - but he got no answer, and if he dropped his communicator the next time they ran, well, who was going to miss him?)

“I get it, if you hate me,” Juno said into the dark of the shelter they’d found, a hidden nook between big, steel beams of a bridge. “For her. For all of them.”

“I do not hate you, Juno.”

He didn’t know if that felt better or worse. “You should. You’re the only one left to feel anything about it, and they deserve -” He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t need to; Jet knew already.

A relapse, Juno will call it later. Healing is not linear, not when the wounds are torn back open every other day or so, and these things happen. Sometimes there’s a stumbling block on the way to better. And Jet will look at him, ask him if he’s any closer now, and Juno will tell him “a day closer than yesterday.” Jet will nod, because that’s all Jet ever asks of him.

Survival became an exhausting thing. When Juno knew the streets of a couple of districts of Dogstar like the back of his hand, he felt like a rat in a maze, nudged back and forth along pre-determined paths by uniformed sentries and reinforced vehicles. Jet had the kind of patience a person worked for, and Juno could see him clinging to the shreds of it; just shreds, because the hope of patching it back into a serene whole was less likely with every hole the two of them were flushed out of. It had always been only a matter of time before they stood outside of the lab doors and asked each other if they were going to do what they came here for.

Maxine Rutherford was on Dogstar. Maxine had been on Dogstar a long time, plenty long enough to set down roots for a research facility and collect a space station’s worth of subjects by force. If it looked like anything else from the outside, well, that was just a pretty face to convince everyone else that it wasn’t their problem and it wasn’t worth getting involved. The first news reports were of a siege, and that was the last outgoing message anyone received; by the time the theory fell apart, communication outside was an impossibility.

The reality was that Dogstar was a testing ground. Maxine had the Theia, and she had plans.

Juno and Jet became her personal annoyance. And it felt good, for a while; Juno felt alive, Jet laughed sometimes, and at last there was a purpose in being the ones left behind beyond dumb luck and timing. It felt good like another hit felt good, like dodging blaster fire close enough to feel the heat of it on your face felt good, and they would take what they could fucking get. There wasn’t anything else.

(They needed something, in that hell of a prison they were trapped in, with no guarantee that the people they saw were people the way they used to be. The reports they stole were horrifying and complex, and Juno was as frustrated as he was relieved he couldn’t parse the science of it. Bioengineering, maybe, or technology taught to behave like biology - a machine fed raw materials that grew them into circuitry, twisting and growing like roots into a person, along muscles and bones and into the brain and good luck, Hanataba, coming up with instructions to rid a person of an infestation that deep. Juno put down the reports. He pulled out his own Theia, considered crushing it under his foot - looked at the way Jet looked at it and knew he would understand if Juno gave in to that little violence - and then put it away. He talked about close escapes and running guards, and Jet laughed, and who cared if they were running along a cliff’s edge because they needed something.)

A relapse, Juno will call it later. An instinct he thought he’d put away, dragged back out of him into daylight. In hindsight, he could even see it coming.

Maxine had gotten sick of them, clearly; her guards were better armed every time Juno and Jet went in, and the escapes were getting closer. The thought of can we afford to do this anymore had been pushed back by well, what else are we going to do and it was a compelling argument, especially to a couple of people carrying their grief along with them everywhere.

It only took a second. Out of the corner of his eye, Juno saw it: one of the guards unclipping something from his belt. There was just enough time to think he wouldn’t, he’s too close, he’d get caught in the blast, just enough time to see the look in his eye and think if he has the Theia and he thinks this is for the greater good, he would. Just enough time to push Jet forward and press the button for the door.

Jet has to tell him what happened next, and he does, eventually - by stops and starts, in pieces, and it’s the way he tells the story that tells Juno how much it hurt. When Jet opened the door, Juno was... broken. He may have been dead already; Jet didn’t stop to check. He scooped him up like a doll and carried him away, deeper into the lab until he found a room with a reclining chair and a looming machine hanging over it.

Here, he always pauses. “I could not be alone, Juno,” he explains. “I could not lose you too, after everyone else. I could not.”

There were instructions. He needed a Theia and he had one, fished out of Juno’s pocket. He didn’t know if he was making the right decision, so he held his emotions at arms’ length, leaned into his work with the quiet, steady determination required of him in a dusty clinic hidden beneath Mars’ surface, and he knit Juno back together again with filaments of woven metal.

(So much later that it feels like a different life, Juno gets to see it. The scanner picks up the roots that wrap around him, concentrated on the back of his neck at the base of his skull. They’re in his muscles, his bones, around his brain. Tiny, delicate, firm, and Juno can trace the fault lines that would have killed him in their paths.)

Juno didn’t dream, he tells Jet later. When he woke up there was just a heaviness in his mind that he didn’t understand yet, the lab, and Jet standing next to him. When Jet looked down on him, he looked so angry that Juno was sure he was going to scream until he was hoarse - but Jet pulled him close and held him like he was something breakable.

“Never again,” he whispered, and he sounded so pained that Juno was already nodding into his shoulder, agreeing to whatever he said. “You will never do that again. You will not make that choice, for me or anyone else.”

They stayed away from the labs. Jet held his hand all the time while Juno remembered and relearned how to walk, how to move his body, how to deal with the heaviness of his mind. Every time he spoke, Jet squeezed his hand harder... and eventually, Juno just spoke less. He could hear it talking from his mouth. If he had more energy, that would have terrified him. But Juno had other things to be afraid of.

There was something else in his head. It didn’t speak; it could have, maybe - it had the last time it had been there, supplying him with information and rote instructions and orders. The Theia didn’t use words anymore, by choice or by limitation, and it’s presence was still inescapable.

Juno didn’t talk about it at first, the ideas and images that came from nowhere. They were tentative and reserved, and it was so unlike what he was used to that he was half-convinced it was all him and the disjointed feeling was just... the result of shoddily-repaired brain damage. That was a thought awful enough that it didn’t bear repeating to Jet, who already looked at Juno in the silence sometimes like he was asking himself how much he’d broken by trying to fix him. Juno shoved the whispers back into the shadows, and they went willingly; he never met resistance, and that convinced him he was right. His head didn’t work the way it used to, but nothing did; it was another adjustment while they picked their way over the ruined station.

And then he answered a question Jet hadn’t asked.

Juno stormed into his own mind. Jet saw the glaze of his eye, took him by the shoulders and called his name to coax him back out, but Juno was flooded by frantic, overlapping images of radio towers and the repair of something he didn’t know was still floating in his blood. For communication, the Theia said without words. For the kind of communication the chip knew better than spoken language - direct transmission.

Direct transmission.

It was the beginning of an idea. It was the only thing stopping Juno from doing something they’d all regret, ripping the chip back out and to hell with it.

Juno spent a lot of time in his own head after that. He poked, he prodded, he looked for traps. The Theia didn’t have anything to offer - the Theia didn’t have anything to hide. He was given the impression of a long, dark quiet, a nothing; even disconnected and not operating, something in the chip had... stayed awake. Being where it was now felt like a second chance.

There are a lot of other people I’d rather give second chances to, Juno snapped out bitterly, silently. The chip already knew. Hard to keep secrets in his own head.

Juno pushed farther. He pushed out, and sometimes Jet turned to look at him, a strange expression on his face. Sometimes, a radio hissed and whined with feedback, or a screen popped and shuddered, or he and Jet stopped walking when Juno’s view was suddenly too high. Whatever Juno’s head was doing, it didn’t work like it had before - where that invasion used to operate something like a two-way knife, now it was a battering ram, ungraceful and swinging wildly. The repair the machine and the chip had attempted in tandem was a miserable patch job at best, dangerous at worst, and Juno pushed anyway. Jet asked him about it once, and Juno let him into his head instead of answering, invited him right in to see the mess of complicated feelings and uncertainty. Jet reached for his hand.

Every day, Juno found something new. It was the worst kind of game, running up against walls: a new rat maze that he was running mostly alone, but never really alone because he was never really alone anymore. He stuttered like anything over Rita’s name, out loud and to himself. The chip caught stray transmissions and placed them right in Juno’s head, a disorienting mix of updates from the lab and tentative calls from survivors. Some memories took a long time to recall, and some weren’t his. And he ached, he ached with every step while his body healed around him.

They walked. They hid. They planned. And when they reached the dock’s communication hub, Juno leaned his forehead against a transmission tower, exhausted all the way through, and gave everything to one last attempt.

(“Symbiosis,” he says later, so much later in a different life and a different world, the kind of life that has room for beds and money for transport to other places; the kind of life that calls them thieves instead of survivors. Jet looks over at him with a raised eyebrow; if that word in two voices upsets him, he’s good at not showing it - but Juno knows better. He knows. “That’s the word for it.”

“The word for what?”

“For me. For... us.” Juno looks up at the ceiling. Jet knows which ‘us’ Juno means - he knows. “We’d be dead without each other. I get held together and it gets to exist. Symbiotes.”

Jet hums. “You are more than a chip’s second chance to be, Juno.”

“But I’m that too,” Juno says in two voices. “I’m always that, too.”)

They get away from Dogstar. Of course they do; if Dogstar and its destruction couldn’t kill them, if a tossed bomb and losing absolutely everyone and everything couldn’t finish them off, maybe they just weren’t meant for death. One call makes it through the communication barrier with enough memorized confidential information to send several planetary governments scrambling into action and Juno sleeps for a week, but no one besides two and maybe a half people know the connection. Jet carries Juno onto one of the ships sent in to clean up the mess and hides them in a distant corner; they don’t speak, and eventually concerned authority figures leave them alone. When they land somewhere - anywhere - else, Jet leads them away from the ship.

It feels like a rebirth. It feels like a second chance that Juno isn’t sure he deserves, but won’t waste - if not for his sake, for theirs. For Jet’s.

Maxine Rutherford gets away, too. She’s long gone by the time the authorities descend, no doubt trying to sink her roots into some new place, and when Juno picks up that transmission from a closed, secure line and shares it with Jet, there’s no discussion. They’ll do this, one more time, for the right reasons. After that? After that is anyone’s guess.

Jet and Juno waste no time; the flurry of criminal activity in their wake inspires rumors and nicknames, and when Juno thinks to ask Jet if that bothers him, Jet chuckles.

“The legend lives on,” he says. “I think they would be pleased.”

~~~

“I’m guessing that means you poached our contact,” Juno mutters. He’s annoyed enough about the waste of his time that he has no reservations about subjecting his guest to more of his voice - and the thief is unnaturally still, which is satisfying and offensive at the same time. “What, did the people who told you the nickname not warn you about the voice?”

“Let me see your face.”

The flatness of his tone is obvious, even with the audio distortion. Juno frowns; he can’t picture what kind of expression goes along with a tone like that, and it makes him uneasy. “...why?”

“Please.” He hasn’t moved an inch. Juno would wonder if he was still breathing except that he keeps talking. “I just need to... please.”

Not without seeing his first, Juno thinks. He doesn’t have to ask the chip to know that it’s working on it, but it’s the kind of work that’s going to take months of concentrated effort - reclaiming Rita’s name taught him that, and that’s still not a sure thing.

Jet, stop where you are.

I am almost there.

That’s great, big guy, but I need your eyes for a second and if we do that while you’re moving, you’re gonna run into something.

Juno can feel the skepticism; no lying to him in his own head. If you say so, he says anyway. What do you need?

Somebody stole our meeting and I need to see his face - the distortion on this guy is something else. Can you take a look and tell me what you see?

Jet doesn’t answer in words; he doesn’t need to. He looks, and the inside of Juno’s head is quiet for a long time. Juno, he thinks, and there’s a strange echo that usually only comes from him -

“Juno?”

Juno, it’s -

But Juno doesn’t need to be told. He knows. There’s no evidence for him to point to, but he knows the person who would say his name like that, can hear what it would sound like in the right voice in his memory.

Juno leans forward. “Nureyev?”

[aceademic]

Chapter 2 & 2.5 of Band on The Run

Feel free to bash me intensely. Here is Chapter 2 and Chapter 2.5 (mini chapter) from the one and only liz! Enjoy!

Chapter 2

“You see that one?” Mom whispered in my ear, pointing to the far east.

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“That’s where your Dad is,” she said. I turned to look at her. She had long and flowy dirty blond hair and the most intricate hazel eyes I had ever seen. There was a sort of glint in them, nostalgic and sad but also . . . wistful. The way she looked then, it made me almost believe what she was saying. Almost.

I gave a small pause. Unsure. “Is that so?” I asked eventually. Pops had told me that the doctors said that Mom developed selective amnesia because when my Dad ran off on her, it was too hard for her to deal with. So now she’s delusional with the idea that our father was a man from space that had to go back to his home planet. She never gave a reason why, her answer to that question was always, ‘He’s not gone forever. He’ll come back. He always does.’

“Yeah,” Mom whispered. “And when he does we’ll take the car out to the fields and sing Brandy at the top of our damn --”

“Geddup!”

I jolted upward and blinked, realizing it was just a dream and I was not at home, but in fact, in a spaceship. My heart sunk to the very depths of my inner ocean of self-pity as I pulled on my jacket.

“Give me a minute!” I answered. I heard rustling and saw Peter climbing out of the small bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Clean yourself up and meet me outside, okay?”

Peter nodded sleepily and I left the room, closing the door behind me. And there was standing Kraglin. He was wearing the exact same thing as yesterday and he look as fresh and awake as morning dew.

“Mornin’,” he said awkwardly.

“What’s going to be our orders?” I asked him, jumping straight to the point.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’ll have to find out yourself when we get to the hull.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be his second-in-command or whatever?” I asked dubiously.

“Just cause I’m his first mate don’t mean that he tells me everything,” he answered. “He’s a very private person.”

“I’m ready.”

Peter must have slithered his way to my side, because the door was now ajar, and Peter’s hair was slightly less mussy than it was before. I ruffled his hair anyways.

  I stared in amazement as we entered the hull. The walls had veins that pulsed an eerie, vivid red and the walls were a dark, shadowy grey. Chairs, consoles and neon green screens surrounded me. In the chairs were all different types of aliens talking in headsets and taping the consoles, speaking to each other in a language had never heard before. Alien technology scattered the room, and my gaze set upon the crowd of crew members standing by a window with a breathtaking view of the peace of space. They seemed to be staring, whispering and pointing at me and Peter, as if they had never seen a human before. Some frowned, some seemed curious, and some made me want to punch them repeatedly in the face – or faces, because apparently some aliens have two heads.

Kraglin led me to the back where everyone was, and kindly guided us to the back corner where we would get less weird looks. After a few more of the crew hurried in, I noticed Yondu, sitting on a big, comfy captain’s chair, staring down at us all.

“Everyone, meet your new crewmates, Avery and Peter Quill!” Yondu shouted, holding an arm out in our direction. Everyone turned to look at us. So much for being discreet.

“I thought we were giving them over --” a man started, but Yondu shushed him, very loudly might I add.

“I don’t want another word out of your mouth Horuz, or I’ll scrub it clean in the canteen,” Yondu hissed. Some of the men snickered and the other went immediately silent, looking absolutely furious. “If you don’t like how I run things around here, you can get your skinny ass up and leave, you hear?”

It seemed that either no one heard, or no one wanted to leave.

“Good.” A pause. “Gef, Yorker, I want you in the training room. You’re getting to fat for my liking. Retch, Halfnut, Scrotch, I want you on canteen duty. Oblo, Narblik, Huhtar and Tullk, I want you on hallway duty on deck 10 . . .”

The list continued, and as he called out names, people left the room to go to their assigned stations until it was just me, Peter and Kraglin.

“Kraglin, I want you to show them littles around the ship and when you’re done, I want them to go to Rof’in in the training room. He’ll know what to do.”

Kraglin nodded and led us out of the hull. “All right, let’s start with the tour. There are 10 decks in total. Right now, we’re on deck one, all the way at the bottom.”

He started show us around the first deck. We passed the brig, which was where I was kept when I was unconscious, and we went into the hold, muster station, and a small saloon. I made a mental note of what each room was and its purpose. We continually went up, going through the quarterdecks (two whole decks just for where the cabins are), the training room, the turret (which I have to admit was pretty cool), medbay, the promenade deck, the canteen, multiple saloons, the galley, the escape hatches and small bays holding random equipment and such. One oddly contained a whole assortment of mini figurines (most of which were broken).

As we made our way back to the hull, Peter’s stomach grumbled. Kraglin and I both looked at him. I had forgotten I was hungry. I had forgotten that we needed food. For the glorious bliss that was 1 hour, I had forgotten that I was kidnaped and that my head hurt and that my mother was dead and pretended that my good friend Kraglin was showing me around a spaceship. The fierce rage of fire that roared inside me returned along with a loud grumble of my stomach.

“We can stop by the canteen on our way back to the training room,” Kraglin offered. We both nodded hungrily, and I wondered what aliens ate. Probably not grilled cheese.

When we entered the canteen, it was mostly empty except for the people who were working there, cleaning dishes and mopping the floor. No one looked up. There were refrigerators nailed into the wall, full of silver packets and water bottles.

“We don’ get fresh food often, so we eat these,” Kraglin told us, opening a refrigerator door and pulling out 2 packets, turning them over to read something on the back. “Today’s Flicodian tentacles. Should have a similar taste to – what’s that meat thing you eat?”

“Chicken?” Peter asked. Kraglin shook his head.

“No, no, it started with a T.”

“Turkey?” I asked. Kraglin nodded. He walked over to some built in cabinets and pulled out two bowls, opening the packet and squeezing out what looked freeze-dried octopus tentacles. He went over to a nearby tap, and filled the bowls up, sticking them in what looked like some sort of microwave. When the timer beeped after a minute, he pulled the two bowls out, releasing a hearty aroma that did indeed smell a lot like turkey, and Peter and I found ourselves sitting at the long tables in the room, scarfing down the tentacles as if they were our last meal. Kraglin watched in amusement. I put down my fork.

“What?” I asked. He jumped in surprise, and suddenly the wall became very interesting.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. I shrugged, and continued to shove food down my throat, ad sat back happily when the last remnants of food were gone, and the bowl was empty. Back then, I didn’t notice the pink tint that haunted his cheeks.

  Chapter 2.5

Nebula kicked the punching bag. She kicked it again. Her father had given her another mission. And she wasn’t sure she would be able to complete it this time. At least she had Gamora to help. She kicked the bag again. Gamora wasn’t going to help. She would ruin her chances of ever completing it to keep up her status as most-favorable child. The star, his little-one. Nebula started to punch it repeatedly and finished it off with a roundhouse kick. It flew off its chain, and Nebula huffed, grabbing a bottle of water from the corner. She ignored the green alien with blue hair leaning against the doorway.

Nebula didn’t like the hair. This was the 5th time Gamora had attempted dying it and now it was a dark, ocean blue. It didn’t suit her.

“I know your upset with me,” Gamora said. She entered the room, her arms folded across her chest. Nebula gave another little huff, but other than that she screwed the bottle cap onto her bottle without a glance and went to pick up the punching bag.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Gamora said, her voice tense. Nebula turned to look at her with furious eyes.

“There is always a choice,” Nebula hissed. A ray of sunlight hit Nebula, and the silver prosthesis on her head glistened, causing Gamora to look away. “You had a choice not to fight me. To stand up to our fath – to him.”

She corrected herself. It was still hard for her to call him her father, the man who had slaughtered her family, her brother, her entire home planet. He who called her weak and worthless and forced her into impossible missions that almost always caused her to have to team up with Gamora, that back-stabbing wench of a sister. He who ripped out her eye for simply not besting her sister in a fight.

“You know that’s not how it works,” Gamora mumbled, grabbing her arm subconsciously. Nebula broke eye contact, grabbing the punching bag and attaching a new clip onto it, attaching it back to the screw in the ceiling.

“Did you need anything else, sis?” Nebula added a sneer on the last word, making Gamora’s stomach wretch horribly, her brows furrow and her heart twist.

“No.”

It was a lie.

[teenvogue]

Insatiable Isn't Actually About Fat People, and That's a Problem

In this op-ed, entertainment news editor Claire Dodson explains why Netflix's controversial new show Insatiable isn't really about its fat characters, and how, because of that, it's a wasted opportunity to show three-dimensional fat (and formerly fat) characters on screen.

When I was in high school, I was a 6-foot-tall, fat teen who was uncomfortable in her large body. I wore large t-shirts to cover up the folds of my stomach. I hunched over to make myself seem smaller. Every morning before school, I slipped a tight swimsuit on under my clothes to act as a corset. I did that for three years.

Every book I read, every movie or TV show I watched, reinforced the idea in my head that if I wanted someone to love me or if I wanted to be successful, I would have to lose weight. And I remember that feeling inconsistent with my actual life — I had great friends, I played basketball for my high school (a fat athlete, oh my!), I went out on weekends, I found things I was good at that have led me to my job today as an editor at Teen Vogue.

I wanted to see that on screen, instead of feeling ashamed and self-conscious everytime a fat character appeared in something I was watching with my thin friends. I wanted to be inspired by strong fat women so that I could overcome the urge to cover my body up and the internalized belief that even though my life seemed pretty OK, I was deficient in some way because I’m not thin.

For these reasons, I was hesitant to watch Netflix’s Insatiable. Why would I, a fat woman who has grappled with the lack of media representation, watch something that’s been called “obscenely cruel” and “almost unwatchable” as well as “racist” and “tone deaf?”. But, curiosity got the best of me, and I ended up watching all 12 episodes of season 1 in a night.

It was disappointing like I knew it probably would be. But it wasn’t just the blatant fatphobia that bothered me. While watching, I realized one of the biggest problems with Insatiable is that even though it wants to be about fat people, it’s not really about fat people, at all.

The trailer, which came out on July 19, frames the story like this: fat teenager Patty Bladell (played by Debby Ryan) is bullied at school — and basically everywhere else — but after an incident where she punches a homeless man for attempting to steal her candy bar and he punches her back (causing her to have her jaw wired shut for 3 months), she emerges 70 pounds lighter, skinny and ready to set out for revenge against everyone who ever mocked her (oh, and become a pageant queen).

But the trailer is a trap. It’s the television equivalent of clickbait. Because the show itself isn’t about being fat, and it’s not even really about being formerly fat, like Patty. Sure, Patty gets all the big action: she often goes into inexplicable rage spirals; she murders two people and almost kills a third; she pushes a classmate out of a wheelchair; she outs two closeted queer men. She joins a long list of fat villains (looking at you Crabbe and Goyle from Harry Potter, or Ursula from The Little Mermaid) whose evil is compounded by their fatness, even when Patty’s fat is all in her head.

Even though Patty is painted as the heroine in the trailer, she isn’t really. Over the course of 12 episodes, she gets almost no character development. She learns nothing from her (increasingly bad) mistakes. The audience is given nothing from her to win us over. But you know who does get that development? Every thin character.

Alyssa Milano’s Coralee, a struggling housewife-turned-entrepreneur, wins you over with her earnestness and vulnerability. Nonnie (Kimmy Shields), Patty’s best friend, is awkwardly charming as she works through her crush on Patty and starts embracing her queerness — I found myself thinking I would actually watch a show about her journey. Patty’s pageant coach Bob Armstrong (Dallas Roberts) and the district attorney Bob Barnard (Christopher Gorham) both become better people by the end of the series, as they each become honest about their sexuality and more thoughtful and caring towards their children. Even minor characters, like fellow pageant queen Roxy (Chloe Bridges), are three-dimensional, such as when she reckons with her estrangement from her father and her resentment at being sent into foster care.

Patty’s weight loss, however, acts as a stand-in for her character development. Beyond the head-scratching proclivity for murder, there’s nothing else to say about her that we don’t know at the outset.

Continue reading

📸: Netflix

[67-chevy-baby]

Obedience

Ship - Single!Jared x Single!Misha x Actor!OFC

Rating - 18+ Only!!!! 

Tags - Language, unprotected sex!, SMUT, light BDSM, bondage, rough sex, voyeurism, threesome (no Mishalecki), Misha is a total Dom in this btw…, oral (male and female receiving), spanking (with hands and a whip), hair pulling, fingering (female receiving), squirting, oh and also fluff! :)

Word Count - 3811 (Not even remotely sorry)

Beta - The amazing @kittenofdoomage :)

Written for - @holyfuckloueh

Being a guest star on a TV show was stressful. Kary had only been acting for two and a half years, so it still amazed her that she landed a spot on such a long-running series. Supernatural had a huge fan-base, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t heard of it. Watching the actual show was another story. She had meant to sit down and crank out the available seasons on Netflix, she really did, but her schedule was just too booked.

If she had known how drop-dead gorgeous the cast members were she probably would have canceled some plans and watched it sooner. She swore they were all hand carved by Michelangelo himself. Kary followed one of the PAs, Stephanie she thought her name was, into the Bunker’s kitchen. Even though her part wasn’t meant to be re-occurring, she still loved getting the tour of the place.

Just as she was about to get the rundown of what a day was like on set, Jared walked into the room sporting gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Kary couldn’t help but stare as he stood talking to one of the producers. Her mouth watered at the way his pants hung low on his hips, and how his arm muscles seemed to almost burst through the sleeves of his shirt. Her mind drifted off to thought after dirty thought of him fucking her repeatedly against the nearest hard surface. Stephanie followed her gaze and chuckled.

“So, you like Jared hm?”

Kary blushed furiously and prayed to whoever was listening that Jared nor the producer had heard the comment.

“Yeah … I mean he’s umm … really tall.”

Steph giggled and took her arm, pulling her towards the two men.

“C’mon, let me introduce you. Jared always likes to meet the guest stars. Well, all the boys do, but Jared especially does.”

Karyne could feel her heart thudding hard against her chest as Stephanie approached them. It looked like they were reading over part of the script, but she couldn’t be sure since they were whispering. Jared turned and smiled at both of them once they got in their line of sight. He looked down at her warmly and extended his hand toward her.

“Well hi there! You must be the new guest star. Karyne is it?”

Kary took his hand in hers and admired how his fingers almost completely covered her smaller ones. His skin was warm and calloused, and she couldn’t stop the image of him pressing three of his thick digits into her aching pussy flashing through her mind. She bit her lip to stop a moan and didn’t miss how his eyes traveled down to her mouth.

“Yes I’m Karyne, but uhh everyone just calls me Kary. It’s umm … very nice to meet you, Jared.”

She took her hand back and nervously played with the hem of her shirt feeling his eyes on her. Even though she didn’t think he was meaning to, he really emanated dominance. Jared looked her up and down quickly before turning his attention to another crew member whom she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Hey Jare, they need you in hair and makeup. We start shooting in forty-five minutes.”

Kary watched as he gave her a little smirk and a wave before heading off down the hallway. Stephanie led her to the costume trailer so she could get fitted for her proper demon attire. She would be playing one of Crowley’s minions who had information on his whereabouts. Her character would get kidnapped by the Winchesters and get tortured for said info. If she was being honest, it’s the torture she was most excited for. She’d heard stories from her friends of how sexy Sam and Dean were when they were the least bit authoritative.

Soon she was sporting her character’s edgy outfit and was being led to the threshold of the Bunker’s cellar. Kary was fitted into some black skinny jeans that hugged her waist perfectly. The red tank top showed a smidgen of her midriff and accentuated her cleavage nicely. A pair of black stilettos and her hair falling in loose curls down her shoulders completed her look.  Neither of the boys were there yet, but they couldn’t be far behind. The anticipation of acting out this scene with them, especially Jared, was making her heart race.

A few moments later another crew member, who she could only assume worked somewhere in the prop department, strode in the small area carrying a thick coil of rope. The woman laid it on the lone desk and motioned for Kary to sit. Once she was seated, a couple other people came in to remove the everything but her and the wooden chair.

“Hello Kary, my name is Tori, have you ever been tied to a chair before?”

If she wasn’t so nervous, she would have laughed because damn what an introduction that was. Instead, she shook her head and held her arms out in front of her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tori. No, I haven’t been, but I’m assuming you want me like this?”

Tori giggle and walked behind her and uncoiled the rope.

“Actually sweetie, I need you to put both wrists thru the openings in the back of the chair. I’m gonna tie your wrists back here instead. The rope will be kinda snug, but I don’t want you to be nervous. All you gotta do is say something and we will cut you free alright? Oh, and another thing, the boys can kinda be … what’s the word I’m looking for? … Intimidating, yes intimidating when it comes to torture scenes. If you need a break, don’t be afraid to let them know okay? They are hypersensitive to guest stars’ needs, and no one will blame you if you need to take a breather.”

Kary was glad everyone was so kind and approachable. This was probably one of the best sets she’s ever worked on. Just as Tori was securing the final knot on her restraints, Jensen, Jared, and Misha all walked in sporting their usual attire. They were all laughing about something but stopped when they noticed Kary sitting in the center of the Devil’s Trap.

She felt so exposed as they all stared at her. Jensen and Misha walked towards her, while Jared stayed rooted to the spot. Both men approached her and squatted down to her level, their smiles calming her overactive nerves.

“Hi, there sweetheart! It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Jensen, and this is Misha. You’re Kary, right? Jared told us he already got the pleasure of meeting you.”

She fixed her gaze on Jared who was blushing slightly. Turning her attention back to the two other leads in front of her, she gave them each a kind smile.

“It’s very nice to meet you both. I’d uh … I’d shake your hand, but I’m kinda tied up.”

Misha chuckled and patted her lightly on the thigh.

“With that sense of humor, you’ll fit right in!”

Just as she was about to come up with a witty reply, the director walked into the room with a clipboard.

“Okay, everyone, let’s get started shall we? We’ve only got Kary for a day, so let’s be on our best behavior today boys.”

Jensen and Jared both snickered while Misha rolled his eyes. They all took their places and took a minute to get into character. Kary closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them again. She tested her bonds to set the scene and felt how they dug into the sensitive skin of her wrists.

Once action was called, Kary could definitely see a change in the boys’ demeanor. It was as if they were completely different people. Jensen approached her, his eyes dark with menace, and pulled a knife from one of his pockets. He circled the chair, the thud of his boots hitting the concrete like a slow metronome. Finally, he stopped and knelt down so his face was mere inches from her own. The knife rested against her chest, the hard plastic pressing into her sternum forcefully. Even though the knife looked very real, it was most certainly nothing of the sort. It even retracted into the hilt when it stabbed someone so it looked all the more real on screen.

“Now, listen here you bitch, my patience is running thin. Just tell me where Crowley is, and I won’t drag it out.”

Kary smiled maliciously and let out a guttural laugh.

“You Winchesters always think you can just bully the information out of us. Well, I’ve got news for you pathetic lumberjacks, you might as well kill me now because none of you are worth my time.”

Jensen took the knife and sliced open a particular spot in Kary’s outfit. It didn’t look like much now, but on screen, it would glow and sizzle for added effect. She squirmed and screamed, letting her breath become heavy before replaying through gritted teeth.

“Is that all you got? Guess I better go tell the other demons that Sam, Dean, and their pet angel are going soft.”

Jared’s upper lip curled into a snarl, and Kary felt herself become wet at the sight. She was sure her panties were ruined, but she didn’t break character. The taller of the three walked around to her backside, while Misha came up to Jensen’s flank. Kary focused on his chrome angel blade that suddenly appeared from his trench coat sleeve and tried to break her restraints again to make it look like she was now nervous.

She felt someone grab her hair and yank her head back to expose the delicate skin of her neck to Castiel’s blade. Jared leaned down until his mouth was right next to her ear, and it took all of her self control to stay in her demonic character.

“You gonna talk now or are we gonna have to force you? ‘Cause, believe me, my brother, Cas, and I aren’t the least bit scared of a lowlife demon like you.”

Kary bit her lip right as the director shouted cut. Tori came in to cut her free while the boys commended her on the scene. Apparently, that take was enough, because she was told she could go get changed out of her character’s clothes.

Once she was back in the guest trailer, she stripped off her clothes and folded them neatly on the dresser. She didn’t need to shower since she took one just that morning, but she did need to cool off after shooting. Jared’s power over her was almost too much. Plus, it had been a long time since she was touched by another person sexually.

Kary grabbed a hair tie from her wrist and twisted her hair up in it before stepping into the shower. The cool liquid soothed the aching need she felt, but it didn’t cure it. Jared did more things to her with just a look than any other man had ever done.

Once she was cooled off she wrapped a white fluffy towel around herself and stepped out into the bedroom. This is when she started to notice things that confused her. Little things like a pair of men’s shoes, a t-shirt, and then suddenly it hit her. She wasn’t in the guest trailer at all.

Fear coursed through her when she heard the trailer door open. She had nowhere to go, so she just stood there holding the towel closer to her naked body. She wasn’t prepared for the shocked look Jared gave her when he rounded the corner to his bedroom. He stared at her momentarily before taking a step closer to her shaking form.

“Kary? What … what are you doing?”

Karyne felt her lower lip begin to quiver, her eyes filling with tears of shame as he slowly got closer and closer to her. Once he was in front of her, she let a single tear fall. He watched as it cascaded down her cheek, wanting desperately to wipe it away but decided against it so he didn’t spook her.

“I … I’m sorry I didn’t … I thought …”

She felt strong arms envelop her in a hug, his fingertips sliding over her exposed shoulder blades lightly. Kary looked up at him and sighed when the pad of his thumb wiped her tear away. Jared never thought she looked more beautiful than in this moment. Her raw vulnerability struck a chord in him, and he slowly leaned in toward her lips.

The moment he kissed her, Kary felt like a grand finale of fireworks exploded inside her. She wrapped her arms around Jared’s neck and allowed him to carry her towards his queen size bed. He broke the kiss long enough to drop her down onto the mattress. Tearing his shirt quickly over his head and fumbling with his belt shouldn’t be sexy, but Kary was literally panting at the sight. Finally, Jared was standing bare before her, his hardness jutting out in front of him proudly.

He climbed on the bed supporting himself on his knees taking a moment to allow his eyes to travel over her body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Kary. Wanted this since the moment I met you.”

Jared pulled her up so her nipples were pressed firmly against his chest, bringing them to hardened peaks. He began to roughly kiss her, pulling her hair like he did during the scene they shot earlier so he could kiss and suck at her pulse point. Kary cried out when he bit lightly at her neck and ground her pussy against the thickness of his cock.

He growled seductively and flipped them so she was on top of him. Jared motioned for her to turn around, and she looked at him confused.

“Wanna taste you, Kary. Wanna feel you cum on my face baby.”

She almost came by his words alone. No one had ever done this with her before. She’d barely done anything with a man before and had only slept with another person once. It wasn’t very enjoyable for her, so she never really tried to find anyone else. It hadn’t occurred to her that maybe the person she’d had relations with before had been doing it wrong. Kary got into position, placing each one of her knees parallel to Jared’s pectoral muscles. He greedily pulled her down and started relentlessly lapping at her soaked cunt. His strong arms held her in place as she writhed above him, crying out his name.

“Jar-Jared! Ahh! Fuck I-I’m close!!”

Kary was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t notice Misha standing in the bedroom’s threshold. For a moment, his jaw dropped at the sight before him, but he quickly felt himself hardening in his jeans. He began teasing his thickening cock through the denim, admiring how erotic the scene was before him. Misha continued to watch as Kary came undone on Jared’s mouth alone, her orgasm ripped through her like a current causing her to thrash and shake seductively.

“Fu-fuck!! JARED!!! Oh, shi-ahhh!!”

Kary climbed off Jared’s face and squealed when she was met with Misha’s lust blown eyes. Jared just smirked, clearly proud of himself for making the other man so worked up. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all, almost like he liked the thrill of getting caught.  

M-Misha?! What are you doing??”

His blue eyes darkened with want as he looked her up and down like she was prey.

“I could ask you the same thing Karyne, but right now I have something else in mind. Why don’t you be a good girl for Jared and I and kneel on the bed.”

Kary felt the familiar heat reignite in her abdomen as she climbed on the soft comforter, her knees spread slightly. Misha discarded his clothes slowly and pumped his cock a few times before standing in front of her. A bead of precum leaked out of the head, and she instinctively licked her lips.

“Be a good girl for us, and you’ll get rewarded sweetheart. Gotta do what we say though. Think you can do that?”

Kary nodded and looked up at Misha through her long lashes. Immediately she felt the sting of Jared’s hand land across her ass. She yelped, letting the lingering burn arouse her even more.

“I think Misha was waiting on an appropriate answer darlin’. How about you acknowledge him properly?”

Kary bit her lip and stuttered out what she hoped was the right answer.

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Misha groaned deeply and closed his eyes.

“Mmm good girl. Now open that pretty mouth of yours for me. I’ve wanted those perfect lips wrapped around me all afternoon.”

Soon they built up a rhythm. Misha fucked her mouth, while Jared teased her aching cunt with his tongue and fingers. He’d work her up to the point where she was about to tip over the edge but stopped right before she could. Kary pulled off Misha’s dick with an obscene pop to catch her breath. Before she could she felt two of his nimble fingers lift her chin up and saw his disapproving eyes.

“Oh sweetie, I didn’t tell you to stop did I? I think Jared’s gonna have to show you what happens when you disobey us.”

She whimpered when the tendrils of what had to be a whip slid over the curve of her ass. A second later, a loud crack filled the room as it blistered her skin. The impact of it sent a shockwave of heat straight to her core, her folds becoming slicker with need by the second.

“Pl-please … I’ll be a good girl sir. Please f-fuck me…”

Misha smirked and looked at Jared as he absentmindedly stroked his thick length.

“What do you think Jare? Should we give her what she needs? She has been pretty good.”

Jared ran his fingers over the pink welt that was now becoming visible on the flesh of her ass and licked his lips.

“I thought you’d never ask. Didn’t know how much longer I could wait.”

Misha chuckled and pushed Kary down onto the bed, admiring how her breasts bounced invitingly. He crawled over her and placed a loving kiss to her lips.

“I think you can wait a little longer, Jared. Seeing as you’ve already made her cum once, I think it’s my turn. Why don’t you go sit in that chair over there, and let me show you how it’s done.”

Kary thought for sure that he would argue with the other man, but surprisingly he didn’t protest at all. She watched as he took a seat and almost immediately begin running his hand over his sizable member. Her attention quickly reverted back to Misha as she felt his lips start to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her body. He looked up into her eyes, marveling at her little whimpers and pleas from just his lips.

“Oh god… please …need to feel you…”

Misha settled himself between her legs and lined himself up before pushing into her tight heat. Kary’s back arched off the bed as he thrust into her relentlessly, not giving her time to adjust to his size. Her screams reverberated off the trailer’s walls, her hands gripping the sheets to stay grounded, as she felt herself close to the edge.

“Mish-ahhhh! Oh right there… I’m gonna… gon-ah!!”

Misha snarled, positioning himself so he was hitting her sweet spot over and over.

“C’mon sweetheart, cum for me. Fuck! Cum all over my cock baby!”

His words were like a switch, sending her into pure bliss. Her walls contracted around his cock almost making Misha lose his load, but he had other plans. He didn’t want to cum just yet. As soon as he pulled out of her Jared was on the bed. Kary squealed as he picked her up effortlessly and placed her on all fours. He leaned down over her shoulder and spoke praises in her ear.

“You did so good darlin’. Took Misha’s cock like a champ, but now you’re gonna take both of us. Gonna take both of our loads like a good girl.”

Misha kneeled in front of her while Jared lined up behind her. He slid inside her eager cunt ever so slowly making Kary feel every inch of him. Her breath was ragged, her eyes shut tight at the sensation. Once he was fully seated, she felt the tip of Misha’s dick press against her mouth. She opened on command and took as much of him as she could. Both men groaned at began a steady rhythm.

Kary felt so full, her eyes watering as Misha assaulted her mouth over and over again. The burn in her throat making her all the more stimulated. Jared’s hips began to stutter, and sweat dripped onto her body.

“Kary.. oh fuck… not gonna last… c’mon baby cum with me.”

Misha gripped her hair to hold her still as he guided his cock into her hot mouth, his own orgasm just around the corner. Jared pistoned into her bundle of nerves at a brutal pace, and suddenly felt Kary start to shake. Her cries became louder as he felt her walls contract around him. Just as he felt the first ropes of cum shoot into her, he felt another sensation. Kary’s own juices spilled out coating his cock and legs just as Misha spilled himself down her awaiting throat.

She was too tired to move, the feeling of euphoria still resonating at what just happened. Misha scooped her up as Jared pulled back the covers. Kary was laid down gently, the soft material soothing against her skin. Both men laid down on either side of her, relishing in the skin-on-skin warmth.

Even though her role on the show wasn’t meant to be long-lasting, Kary knew that being between these two men wasn’t just a one-time thing. The past few years had their ups and downs, but now she felt like she had something to live for. Jared and Misha were her missing link, and she drifted off to sleep knowing that she’d never be alone again.

[semiwriting]

Grizzly Bears

On Wattpad

There’s a storm coming. That’s what the news said. I hopped off the couch and went through the screen door onto the porch. It was pretty sunny right now, not that hot, but I didn’t want the bother of the sunlight in my eyes anyway. “Daddy! A storm’s coming!” I yelled out to the field where Daddy was pulling weeds out from crops. He stood up to look at me. “How long?” He yelled back. “They say it’s going to be five days this time!” I retreated back into the house after seeing him nod and turn back to the ground. I heard Todd talking to Mama loudly and saw Russ hop onto the couch with a popsicle. He had slightly lighter brown hair than Daddy, unlike me who had more blonde-ish hair like Mama. Todd...didn’t really have much hair yet. I didn’t know if that was normal for babies. “Did Mama say you could have that?”

“Yes,” Russ swung his legs absentmindedly and reached for the remote to change the channel to a cartoon with bland and flat colors. Mama came into the living room and put her hand on her hip. “Did you tell your daddy about the storm coming?” “Yes, Mama, didn’t you hear me yelling?” “Okay, okay.” Daddy came back inside, the screen door slamming back and creaking as it moved. He pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into a pocket in his overalls; he rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and walked over to Mama, kissing her. “We should go to Lee’s house for the storm,” he said to the side, not really at anybody but also to all of us. “Is it just rain, or is there noise with it?” “The TV said just rain, but a lot of it,” Mama said. She leaned her shoulder against the wall and crossed her arms over the floral print of her dress. “Always is, isn’t it?” He circled back around in his spot, keeping a hand on the base of Mama’s back. “You kids pack, alright. A week’s worth, just in case,” Mama told us. There were a few mumbled yeses from us; Russ ran up the stairs excitedly having already finished his popsicle, and I grabbed Todd’s hand and led him up the stairs. We packed our little suitcases, with me helping the boys pack since Todd was too young to know how to fold clothes and Russ would just throw his toys into his bag. “Rita, can you tuck me in?” Russ looked up at me from his bed later that night. “You know, you’re going to be too old to be tucked in soon,” I smiled at him. But I complied anyway, bringing the blankets up to his chin and flattening out the space around him. “Goodnight,” I said to him as I left the room, leaving the door slightly open so the hallway light would comfort him enough until he slept. I went back downstairs, Mama and Daddy now out of their day clothes. Mama was in the kitchen, washing the dishes, and Daddy was hugging her from behind, probably kissing her neck or something. Daddy always doted on Mama like that; he says he’s been in love with her since their schooling days and their fire’s never gone out, whatever that means. I’ve never known love so I guess I wouldn’t know. I started tidying up the living room from the mild chaos that came with Todd and Russ whenever playtime hits. Mama thanked me from the kitchen and asked if I had enough to eat for dinner. “Yes Mama,” I answered her. “When are we going to Lee’s house?” Lee was Mama’s brother. We stayed with him whenever storms come because he had a cellar and we didn’t. Lee’s family were my cousins; we would see Laney and Danny and their mama Gracie. “We’ll leave in two. It’s three days until the storm comes, we don’t want to stay at Lee’s for longer than we have to.” “And we can’t stay too long, anyway, the crops need an eye,” Daddy input with a smile. He came over and squeezed my shoulders together, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “You should go to sleep soon, babygirl.” I smiled to myself. I was excited to go to Lee’s house. We don’t see him often and only go to his house when it’s a five-day storm or more. We usually let the rain irrigate the crops by itself. Especially for noise storms, it could be dangerous if you don’t have a cellar. On Tuesday, we took the drive to Angola; it’s where Lee lives. It was about three hours away. And since the days before storms are unbearably hot, we were allowed to have the windows down. I leaned against the frame of the open window, watching the barren land barely even spotted with skinny trees go by. There were tufts of grass by the road. I imagined the last of the surviving animals lived in those small tufts or the remaining leaves of the trees. Maybe they all turned small and minuscule when the world turned hot. There couldn’t have been that many that died. But Daddy told me when when he was in schooling, he learned that when all the grasses started dying, it hurt a lot of species, and they died too. I saw a small type of rabbit bounce around and stop and look at our car. He sniffed the air and then flew out of sight when our car went by. I looked back inside the car. Russ was sitting in the middle, drawing something that looked like a dragon mixed with a lion. He was always a pretty good drawer; Mama likes to hang his drawings in his room or around the house and stuff. Says it really livens up the place. Todd was sitting at the other end than me, asleep in his car seat. I don’t know how anyone could sleep when they’re sweating this much, but Todd could sleep anywhere. There was one time we were at the grocery store and Russ was trying to convince Daddy to buy some cereal or candy, so I was standing with Mama and Todd for a while. Todd was holding Mama’s hand and ended up nodding off to sleep standing up in the store. “Daddy?” “Yes, babygirl?” “When do I get to go back to schooling and learn about all those animals that died?” He chuckled. “That’s not all you learn in school, you know. But your Mama and I think you can go back this year. With Russ, too.” “I missed a year, though. Is that okay?” “Yes, it’s fine, babygirl.” I got taken out of schooling after my first year of high school because Mama and Daddy said that they didn’t have enough money for another year. So on my year off, I helped them with the farming and selling the crops that Daddy planted. I got to go to town and talk to the locals a lot. Sometimes Mama would come with me, carrying Todd, and walk around town for a little bit. I would stand with baskets of food, selling them to people, and she would talk with the other mamas and their little babies. I don’t know what they would talk about, but sometimes when we got home she would get really sad and hug us a lot. I didn’t like seeing her sad, but I didn’t ever know what to do. And when Daddy got home from the field or the labor work, he would dote on her extra that night and they would watch a movie. I was shaken out of my thoughts when the car suddenly slowed down and pulled up next to a house. Three hours had passed and we were at Lee’s house. He was already coming outside of his house when we pulled up. “Miss Maybelle!” Lee walked up to the car with his arms open. “Mister Leevi!” Mama got out of the car and hugged her brother tightly. I helped the boys get out of the car, and Daddy went to hug Lee as well. “Rita! You grow every time I see you!” Lee smiled widely at me. “Hi, Uncle Lee.” “That’s Lee, to you,” he scooped me up into a hug. “Uncle makes me feel like an old man.” He turned to Russ and Todd and squatted to be at a more equal standing to the two. Russ jumped into his arms with a giddy smile, and Todd tried to run to him but ended up falling flat on his face in the dirt. Daddy helped him up and pulled a tissue out of his pocket to wipe the dirt off his face. Todd wasn’t that discouraged and wobbled over to Lee; for a one year old, he doesn’t cry that much. “You have to face your age sooner or later,” Mama said to him. “You trying to pick a fight, Miss Belle?” He stood with Todd in his arms. “My kids are the same age as yours.” We all traveled inside, beginning to socialize with Aunt Gracie. She was a petite woman, more so than Mama, but somehow Danny was taller than both Aunt Gracie and Lee. Him and Laney came in, smiling despite the occasion. Danny hugged me first. He was seventeen, only two years older than me. Laney was five, the same age as Russ, but was going to turn six in a couple months. “How you been, Rita? Last time you came for a storm was three or so months ago.” He lingered a bit longer than usual when hugging me and kept his arm around me. “Yeah, it’s too bad we only visit during the bad ones.” “But this one’s not supposed to bring any noise, right?” Mama stepped into the conversation. “There was an update, actually. Apparently it’s noise and all,” Lee said, pushing Laney lightly on the back to come say hi to us. Mama bent down to hug Laney and complimented her little dress, making her smile and giggle. “Y’all had a long drive, I’m sure you’re all hungry,” Aunt Gracie smiled to all of us. I disconnected from Danny to reach for the plate of brownies Aunt Gracie set on the table. I gave one to Russ who ripped his in half and took a bite out of one of the halves. “Honey, give some of that to Todd,” Mama picked up Todd who was grabbing out with his little hand to the plate. In response, Russ yelled ‘no’ and shoved one of the halves in his mouth. “Russel!” “Don’t worry, Belle, there’s plenty to go around,” Aunt Gracie giggled. “Hey, city boy? Why don’t I help you bring the bags and stuff down to the cellar?” Lee has been making fun of Daddy since they were teenagers, Mama always said. He didn’t have an accent like the rest of us; he moved out of the city when he was in high school. That’s when he met Mama. “Yeah, sure,” Daddy grinned, heading out to the car with Lee. “Hey, can I show you something?” Danny touched my arm. I looked over to Mama still holding Todd. Her and Aunt Gracie were chatting about something as Russ and Laney ripped up some brownies over a paper plate. Todd was nibbling on a small chunk of brownie, not really paying attention to anything else. “Sure.” I followed him into one of the other rooms. I looked around the room. Nothing really stood out. I faced him. “What did you want to show me?” “I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you about something,” he looked down at his hands, fidgeting with them. “About what?” I stared at his face; he was a bit pink. I heard Lee and Daddy join the conversation back in the kitchen. “I...I know we’re cousins, but--but I have these feelings…” He still wasn't really looking at my face. I peered toward the empty archway to the room. It was the only entrance and exit, and we were far enough from the kitchen that we couldn’t really hear the other conversation, and they probably couldn’t hear ours. “What do you mean?” I said slowly. He looked up, nervous yet sincere. “I think I really like you, Rita.” Before I could respond or even react--I didn’t know how to if I wanted to--he grabbed my hand and took a step closer to me. What do I do? I didn’t want to be mean to Danny, but I didn’t like him like that. We were cousins for goodness sake. I saw him look at my lips; I started to panic. What do I say? Do I say anything? Should I just try to leave? He was coming closer. “Daddy!” I yelled frantically. Danny jumped back in surprise. Daddy popped into the doorframe a few seconds later looking worried. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” He stepped into the room and put a hand on my arm, scanning my face. “I don’t feel too good,” I glanced at Danny briefly who was now red-faced and ashamed, staring at the carpet. “I think I have a bit of a headache.” “Does your stomach hurt, too?” He asked, guiding me out of the room and away from Danny. “No.” “Do you need any medicine?” “No, I think I just need to lie down or something.” “Okay, sweetie. It might just be from the heat from the drive.” I nodded, sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table where everyone else was around. Looking over at Russ and Laney, it looked like someone forced them to wash their hands. Laney was showing Russ some of her toys in the family room connected to the kitchen, continuously taking out toys from the bin and setting them on the ground. When Danny and I were little and over each other’s houses, we used to play farmer. Daddy would be in the field pulling weeds or bad crops, and Danny and I would be in front of the porch, digging small holes, putting pieces of grass or dandelions in them, and then patting the dirt in. It was sweet, innocent fun. And when we were at his house, we would play cops. We’d take turns chasing each other with finger guns, rolling around on the couch like they would over car hoods in movies. Lee said something about the time and everyone started moving, shaking me out of my thoughts. I stood and followed Mama into the cellar, assuming the storm was going to start soon. The cellar was how I remembered it. It was a pretty large room. There was a pantry in the corner, filled with the necessary amount of food; a bathroom was on that side of the room as well. There were two pull out couches, a futon or two against the walls. Over the years, piles of toys have appeared and disappeared in the corner. Russ and Laney rushed the toys, hopping on whatever they could find giddily. Todd yawned in Mama’s arms, and Mama asked if he was sleepy. I sat, curled up, against the wall. Mama and Daddy were sitting next to each other, me near them. Russ was sitting with Laney on the floor at one end of the room, deciding on coloring as tonight’s activity. I set my chin on my arms, trying to think of when it all went wrong. The last time we visited and I saw Danny he seemed fine, he seemed normal. It was only a couple months ago, I think, maybe three months? The last storm was two months ago and it was a small one so we didn’t visit then. How could he have developed feelings like this in such a short time? We hadn’t even seen each other. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t make any sense. Having a crush on me… I buried the bottom half of my face behind my arms. When I was in schooling, I didn’t have any crushes. The girls were always talking about boys, and the boys were always talking about girls. It was kind of gross, if you ask me. I never really wanted a part of it so my friends didn’t talk much about it with me. I always felt kind of...isolated, but I tried not to get sad about it. I didn’t like boys, or girls, or anybody. But that was okay with me. I just had fun selling Daddy’s crops in town. That was good enough for me. The rain started soon after we came down here. I heard it faintly since we were underground. I looked over to the sound of dry heaving and saw Aunt Gracie leaning over a bucket, Lee holding her hand and rubbing her back. She usually got sick during storms. It was worse depending on how bad the storm was. It was kind of how when people had broken bones they could feel when it was going to rain? Except Aunt Gracie got sick. I heard it was because she got super sick when she was younger and now it affects her like this. I saw movement in front of me; Danny came by to sit next to me. I glanced to the side at Mama and Daddy. They were sitting close, talking quietly to Todd so he could fall asleep. I peered back at Danny cautiously. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of your mama?” I asked defensively. Danny smiled weakly. “My daddy takes care of her good when she’s sick. I don’t have to.” He paused. “I wanted to...can I talk to you?” He waited for me to answer, but I didn't. “I’m...I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong,” he looked at the ground. “I shouldn’t have, um, tried to come at you like that.” I didn’t say anything. “I’m really sorry, Rita.” I didn’t want to say anything. Without looking at him head-on, I could tell he felt sad. He didn’t move, he just sat against the wall near to where I was, silent. A couple hours passed, uneventful. I had gotten up to get a book about bears from the bookshelf. I was on page seventy-eight. Danny was chatting quietly with Russ and Laney. Laney jumped up happily, her dress bouncing with her; I think she stood just to show off her dress. It was light pink. Russ rubbed his eye with his fist; he was probably tired. I stared at the page of my book, not really reading it, but thinking about the bears in the book. This book was made after they all died off; the publication date was twenty years ago. The first chapter talked about how the global climate made it nearly impossible for the bears to continue living. Now they were all extinct. I frowned. The pictures of them looked so cute, it was unfortunate they weren’t around anymore. Suddenly, we heard the sound of glass shattering somewhere from above. We all looked up at the ceiling in vain. “Shit,” Lee said helplessly. “Probably one of the windows we didn’t get to reinforce yet.” Lee looked grim. The storm breaking one of his windows early on meant he was going to have a lot of water damage. The house will probably flood by morning. But there wasn’t much any of us could do. I looked towards Mama and Daddy. They looked equally as helpless. Our windows weren't really reinforced either. We were going to get home in a couple days and figure out how to deal with all the damage. A large crack in the sky boomed all around us. The lights flickered. Russ and Laney stopped what they were doing out of fear. Russ was afraid of the dark, and I think Laney didn’t really like noise storms. She stood up and held onto Danny’s sleeve. When the lights flickered again, Russ ran to Daddy; Daddy hugged him with one arm while he still had an arm around Mama. “What if the lights go out?” I heard Russ say to Daddy in a small voice. “We’ve got a generator, don’t you worry,” Lee chimed in. Russ looked to Daddy for clarification. He smiled. “That means that if the lights go out, the generator for the cellar will keep the lights down here on, even if the ones upstairs are still out.” I sat with my book, glancing at Danny for a moment, who I noticed was staring at me. He looked away. I looked back at my book. The grizzly bear. Similar to what we’re doing now, hibernate during the winter. They stock up food, huddle with their family, and wait for the storm to pass.

[theroguesharlequin]

Oh lala~ What do we even call this ship? Thoughts? Just go with coldflashray? I don’t want the Rays getting confused XD (I understand Mick’s pain)

————–

Leo and Ray are married couple of writers always in search of new inspiration for their books. Much of which are very adult in nature.

They are also owners of a book shop and an adult novelty store, and they have a favorite customer.

Barry Allen is a sweet and adorably anxious collage student who trips over himself every time Leo looks at him too long or talks to him about the latest shipment of books.

The sweetheart had the cutest and worst hidden crestfallen expression when he found out Leo was married.

Barry was equally disappointed when the handsome and gentle dom who owned the adult novelty and education store next door was also married. He had such rotten luck.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

It hadn’t occurred to him that they were married to each other, both were equally kind, smart, and bright but the way they presented themselves were so different.

That’s what he thought until they both propositioned him at a dinner party being held in the joined room at the back of the two stores. Apparently they liked holding parties for the local S&M and kinkster community. A party that was definitely turning out to be more risqué than he’d been led to believe when he had accepted the invite.

Why he had accepted the invite in the first place was beyond him. But despite the mistaken knowledge that he didn’t have a chance, they were still his friends. And he just liked to torture himself he guessed.

Something the dominant couple had apparently taken note of.

Which led to where he was now, at their upstairs apartment above their shops the following weekend of the party. After a long week of serious talks, medical screenings, and new personal hygiene regimes, Barry was finally ready to take the next step forward.

If he could just summon the courage to knock.

Barry chewed his lip worriedly and stared down at his outfit, wondering if he should go back home and change for the umpteenth time. It was what they had requested of him: something red, something cute, and something he felt comfortable in.

The soft and comfortable red and black plaid dress he wore over pitch black panty hose and shortshorts with converse definitely met the requirements. But should he have gone sexier? Or was this too much for an official first scene? Should he have worn the nice satin button down and skinny jeans with pumps?

He probably would have either debated another hour or gone home if the door hadn’t opened and Barry’s mind stalled out.

“Are you ready to come in Barry? You look very nice today.”

“Young boys like you should have better manners than to keep others waiting. But we can work on your manners later.”

It wasn’t bondage gear, leather, or lingerie but what they were wearing was enough to have him swaying forward the moment they crooked a finger.

Boots, gloves, slacks, dress shirts, and waistcoats. They were dressed like the finest gentleman Barry had ever seen and he wanted them to treat him like anything but.

“Ah, ah. Let’s get you comfortable before you start kneeling, Barry,” Leo scolded gently, a gloved hand gripping his arm and guiding him inside. Ray’s hand joined Leo’s, settling at the small of his back.

Barry hadn’t realized he hadn’t started to sink to his knees right there in the doorway until they had caught him.

“I’m sorry I’m late and I’m so sorry I almos-”

“It’s alright, Barry,” Leo reassured him. “We know you don’t have much hands on experience, there’s plenty of room for missteps on your part. Just let us lead and you’ll be just fine.”

“Your apologies are accepted, don’t worry about it now,” Ray smiled at him. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You’re all ours tonight. Everything that’s yours is ours. That includes things like anxiety. Now that you’re here with us, every worry, every flaw, and more is all ours. You have no other responsibility beyond being good for us.”

“Not a one,” Leo agreed.

Barry finally relaxed and melted as sweetly as white chocolate for them. “Okay.”

“Good. You look perfect tonight. Can we see what all you’re wearing, sweetheart?” Ray sat them down on a chair, handing Barry a cup of hot cocoa with cinnamon.

Barry nodded and leaned back into the couch, sipping his drink and being careful not to spill, as they worked open the buttons of his dress one at a time until they could pull it wide.

He spread his thighs a bit so they could take him in better, a flush of pride settling over his pale skin at their stares.

Black hose thigh highs, black sheer boyshorts with red lace trimmings and a little bow that did nothing to hide the red chastity cage fitted snuggly around his cock, and a red sheer teddie with black ribbons lacing through it.

“Absolutely stunning,” Leo praised.

Ray nodded in agreement and rubbed a hand alongside Barry’s jawline affectionately. “We couldn’t have chosen better ourselves.”

He beamed at the praise. “I’m happy you like it. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if it really suited me…”

“Can’t imagine it looking better on anyone else,” Leo kissed his cheek. “We really appreciate your effort. And you’re still wearing your cage even though we sent you the keys yesterday. Such a sweet boy.”

“Why don’t we get these off,” Ray leaned down and started unlacing Barry’s shoes and tugging them off. He placed them neatly beneath the coffee table. “We can talk while you finish your cocoa. It’s a bit a chilly out, you really should have worn a coat.” He rubbed his warm hands over Barry’s bare arms with a frown, feeling how cold they were.

“One definitely needs to be careful,” Leo leaned offer and gentle bit the tip of Barry’s nose. “Don’t want Jack Frost nipping at you.”

Both Barry and Ray groaned. Leo’s overt fondness for puns, especially temperature related ones, were infamous.

“How were your last exams? Did we do well?” Ray asked.

Barry was brimming with pride. “Top five of my class. Thank you both for all of your help.” He pecked them on the lips.

They talked more about school, Barry’s upcoming internship, Leo’s new order of books coming in tomorrow, and the bdsm event at one of the clubs Ray would be sponsoring next week.

Any and all nervousness Barry had about their upcoming scene vanished with the last few drops of his cocoa.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Leo guided him to his feet. Ray pulled his dress free of his shoulders and folded it to lay on the coffee table before leaving them to make last minute preparations.

“How are you feeling? Did you enjoy your cocoa?” Leo prodded.

“Much better and yes, Leo, thank you,” Barry replied contentedly.

“Good,” he kissed his forehead. “Now, you remember your scene checks?”

“Status and Cease,” Barry said without hesitation. “Status is to check how I’m doing, to which I’ll reply with either ‘green’, ‘yellow’, ‘orange’. Green is good, yellow is edging, orange is caution to ease or slow down when things start to border red. My safeword represents red, which means to Cease. If unable to speak, previously discussed hand signals will be used for a simple yes or no. A failure to respond after three seconds of an issued Status request will result in an immediate Cease. Cease is when the scene is brought to an end.”

Leo nodded as he spoke. “Very good, Barry, you’re doing so well. What is your safe word and safety signal?”

“My safe word is ‘book’,” he held up two fingers in a salute. “This is my signal.”

Leo leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft. When he pulled away, Barry wore a dazed expression.

“You’re the best boy we could ask for,” Leo smiled as Barry swayed just a little at his compliment. Their sweetheart had a praise kink a mile long.

“Ready,” came a call from the library.

Why a bookstore owner needed a home library in the first place baffled most, but they made good use of it aside from only reading. It doubled as their scene room, leaving less of a mess to take care of than if it all took place on the bed, which they would need clean for afterwards.

“Wait here and come when you’re called,” Leo kissed his forehead once more before disappearing off into the other room.

Barry stood swaying in place, his head already going to that safe warm place in his head just from a few praises and being doted on. His knees shook a little when wondered how high they would take him by the end of the night.

“Here, boy.”

He obeyed.

[mymusicmemories]

Brian Wilson - July 1st 2015 - PNC Bank Arts Center, Holmdel, NJ

Set 1 -

Our Prayer

Heroes And Villains

California Girls

Shut Down

Little Deuce Coupe

I Get Around

Drive-In

This Whole World

Then I Kissed Her

Cotton Fields

In My Room

Surfer Girl

Don’t Worry Baby

One Kind Of Love

Sail Away

Wild Honey

Sail On, Sailor

Darlin’

Wake The World

Busy Doin’ Nothin’

Surf’s Up

The Right Time

Runaway Dancer

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

Sloop John B

God Only Knows

Good Vibrations

Encore

All Summer Long

Help Me, Rhonda

Barbara Ann

Surfin’ U.S.A

Fun, Fun, Fun

Love And Mercy

On the morning of Wednesday July 1st, 2015, I woke up and went to work. It was just another nothing day, just like the day before and how the next day would be. Around 10am, I checked my email and opened what I thought was spam, but I opened it anyway. It said that I won two tickets to see Brian Wilson that night at the PNC Arts Center. I didn’t believe it, mostly because I didn’t remember entering any contest. I replied to the email and it was legit. I must have entered some Facebook giveaway months earlier. It was a little over cast so I called, still not fully believing I won anything, to see if these were lawn seats. They assured me that tickets are good seats and would be waiting at will call.

I called my wife and told her we were going to see Brian Wilson tonight, I told her about the emails and the phone calls and to be ready around 3pm. She then reminded me that we have two kids. So I was bummed, and said I guess I won't go and she suggested I take my oldest son, Patrick, who was 8 at the time. I really never thought about it, but it was a great idea. Patrick was at this time a big 60’s fan. Loved The Beatles, The Monkees, The Four Seasons and The Beach Boys. This was the perfect first concert for him.

Let me tell you a little about Patrick. He’s basically been a musician since birth. He got his first drum kit at 2 years old and he never stopped. When he was 9, I took him to jam with some guys I used to be in a band with and he not only held his own but he made them forget he was a kid. When he was 11, he joined a band and he’s gotten better and better. Now at 13 he’s a real musician, he’s an excellent drummer and self taught piano player. He’s actually playing drums as I type this. 

So, I pick him up and we go to the show. He was excited and we blasted the Beach Boys the whole ride. When we got there we had to park in the overflow lot, kind of sucked to walk half a mile with a little kid, but we made it. I go to Will Call, gave them my name and they had no tickets for me. Someone else came over and I told them that I won some contest and they said the tickets would be waiting for me at Will Call. This person looked and said they have nothing for me. I was just about to reach into my wallet and buy two tickets when a third person came over and asked if it was through Facebook. Told her it was and she came back with an envelope with my name on it. I was shocked it was real. 

We go in and walk down and down and down. Our seats were in the tenth row. Told Patrick to enjoy this but not to get used to it, these were some of the best seats I ever had for a concert. It was early and he nervously talked and talked and talked and just when I thought he ran out of words, he talked some more. It really wasn’t as annoying as I’m making it sound, it was actually kinda fun. This was a real experience for him and I got to enjoy it with him.

The opening act was Rodriguez. I had never heard of him but they billed him the “Legendary” Rodriguez. This tall, skinny guy, dressed all in black sat in a folding chair with an acoustic guitar and blew me away. I didn’t know any of the songs he played but it was incredible. Since then I have become a fan. He was supposed to play about 20 minutes from my house in March but the show was canceled due to quarantine. If you ever get the chance, watch the documentary “Searching For The Sugarman”, I think it’s on Netflix. I highly recommend it. He really has an incredible story.

Patrick was respectful but was looking ahead, can't really blame him. He wasn’t there for this guy, he was there for the Beach Boys. Rodriguez finished and light came up and the crowd started filling the empty seats around us. I’ll never forget when the light went back out, Patrick jumped to his feet and was clapping like crazy as the band took the stage. They opened with “Our Prayer”, not the best way to start for an 8 year old, but then right into “Heroes and Villains” and he was dancing and mouthing the words he didn’t really know. 

I was so impressed with Brian’s band. They were as good as any band I've ever seen. Brian’s voice is what it is, but it’s Brian Fucking Wilson and that’s all that matters. Al Jardine still sounds like he’s in his 20s. To me, one of the best things was that they all seemed like they were enjoying what they were doing. They would smile and laugh to each other, that kinda stuff shows in the music. The worst concerts I’ve been to have been the ones where it seems the band is just going through the motions. 

When they went into “Little Deuce Coupe”, Patrick looked at me smiling. This song was one we played together in the basement music room. We were singing along and Patrick was playing air drums. The lady next to him was really getting a kick out of him. When he was singing along to “Cotton Fields” she gave me a look, as if to say, “Sir, you are raising this kid right.” 

The second most memorable song of the show for me “In My Room”, I have always thought this was the most Brian Wilson song The Beach Boys have ever done. The harmonies were spot on and Brian’s voice, for the first time all night, really nailed it. It was also nice because we all sat down, I’m not as young as I used to be. To this point “In My Room” was the highlight for me.

The next big moment was when Blondie Chapman took the stage. This guy is a rock star. He looks like a rock star, he dressed like a rock star, he played guitar like a rock star and carried himself like a rock star. “Sail On, Sailor” has always been one of my favorite Beach Boys and Blondie did not disappoint. His vocals were perfect. It’s really no wonder why he was a Beach Boy or why he played with the Stones. He has “it”, whatever “it” is.

My next favorite Patrick moment was during “Busy Doin’ Nothin’”. Brian led the crowd in a sing along of “Row Row Row Your Boat”. The kid seemed confused, but he laughed and sang along. We all laughed and sang along. There was something so childlike and playful about Brian Wilson that was so contagious. We were all just having so much fun at this point.

The one part of the show I didn’t really like, I understand why, but I didn’t really like,, was “God Only Knows”. This is absolutely one of the very best songs ever written. I do truly love everything about this song. Perfect music, perfect harmonies, perfect lyrics and perfect angelic vocals by Carl Wilson. The band played it album like, it was so good, this Carl appeared on the screen behind the stage and sang the song. It was a recording from a Beach Boys concert from the 70s. I know most people like this but not me. It wasn’t bad, it’s just not my thing I guess. I would have much rather have heard Brian sing it.

The one thing I never explained to Patrick was the encore ritual. After “Good Vibrations” and the band left, he couldn’t quite figure out why no one was leaving and everyone was clapping and holding up their cell phones ( god I miss cigarette lighters ). I do believe he asked me, “what’s going on?” When the band came back, I think he got it. I have never been a fan of the whooping and hollering of the pre-encore. We all know what’s happening. But the kid was loving it, so I was too.

The second song of the encore was “Help Me, Rhonda”. Everyone was singing and dancing and no one was singing louder than Patrick. I still have video of him singing and me trying not to laugh. If there was one song that whole night I enjoyed most it was this. Patrick’s joy in this moment was something I’ll never forget. I’ll never show him the video and I would never tell him how funny it was. No one should ever be embarrassed by the way he sang or danced at a concert. This was a really priceless thing for me.

Next up was “Barbara Ann”. Now we were sitting in the center of the section in front of stage left. I could see the right side of off stage and there just off the stage, in blue jeans, a tee shirt and a baseball cap. Having a good time like the rest of us was Bruce Springsteen. I nudge Patrick, “I think that’s Bruce!” His response was not at all what I was hoping for. “Who?” I was crushed, no longer did I feel like I was raising him right. I, at this moment, was crushed. I shook it off when Al motioned Bruce to the stage and Bruce joined all on the mic and sang the backup.

Up next was “Surfin’ U.S.A.”. Now a roadie ran out a guitar. Brian Wilson, Al Jardine, Blondie Chapman and Bruce Springsteen. It was so crazy, Bruce was singing backup like he was in the audience. It was just so much fun to see. This wasn’t “Bruce Springsteen”, this was Bruce, a guy from NJ who is a fan Brian and The Beach Boys. He just happened to have the best seat in the house. The really interesting thing was Brian completely “no selling” Bruce. He might have even known he was out there or even who he was. Oh, man, I hope he didn’t think we were “booing” when we were “Bruuuuuccccce-ing”. This, of course, was my favorite song of the show. 

Brian closed the show with “Love And Mercy”. The perfect and to a perfect night. One the ride home I tried to explain to a very tired 8 year old, how special this show was. We saw real rock and royalty. We saw a great show. We had great seats. Patrick’s first concert. And a Bruce Springsteen pop in. This might have meant more to me then to him. I just hope he has the memories and this is a story he will tell someday.

[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

SIX

Blinking rapidly, you shook your head. Hands gripped the steering wheel in front of you, the sun washing through the windshield. You realized you were sitting in your driveway; how had you gotten home? This happened sometimes, you’d get in your car and end up at your destination with no real recollection of actually driving.

Stifling a yawn, you shove your key into the deadbolt securing your apartment and are immediately assaulted by the cats you’d left the day before. With how they complained, you’d have thought they hadn’t seen you in a year. “You guys are as bad as dogs, you know that?” Green eyes blinked up at you owlishly before they stalked off, tails twitching in annoyance.

Whispers invaded the edges of your dream, and, try as you might the figures became fuzzy before disappearing altogether. The effort of lifting your heavy lids prevented you from recognizing the person standing at the foot of your bed and you startled, sitting up too fast for the second time in as many days. Stomach lurching, you groaned as the contents swirled for a moment before settling again.

“Ugh, FINALLY!” Cringing as the light was flipped on, your voiced cracked; throat dry. 

“What time is it?” Handing you a glass of water, your sister bounded onto your bed and you had to hold the drink up in the air to keep the cool liquid from sloshing over the sides. 

“It’s five.” “Get up, we’re going out!” With her intentions made clear, the woman next to you let out an inhuman noise, marking her excitement, before rolling off the bed sideways, the cats trailing behind in hopes of dinner as she left the room.

Shuffling out several minutes later, you laughed under your breath as you noticed your sister perched on your couch, wiggling with too much excitement. 

“What?” 

“So uh, I got an interesting call at..oh...2:45 this morning.” 

Grimacing, you dismissed her, a hand covering your face as you sifted through the fridge; suddenly ravenous. 

“Oh yeah?” Feigning interest only got you so far. 

“Yeah, from your new boss.” “You really need to tell me everything, and don’t you DARE gloss over the good stuff.” 

Tilting her head back, she tossed a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth, which earned a slight smile from you, a sigh of defeat sounding as you nodded in acquiescence.

Folding your legs beneath you, you sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to settle for anything but a full account of what had happened the day before.

Recounting the events took less time than you expected, and after asking clarifying questions, a smile spread across her face. 

“When Misha called me this morning from your phone I thought it was you somehow playing a prank on me. I yelled at him and was calling bullshit the entire time until he sent me this.” 

Unlocking her own phone, she scrolled through her texts, finding the one she wanted. Turning the device around, you smiled and groaned as you saw the picture. You were curled up on Misha’s couch, his face framed next to yours on the screen. The man had just met you and he was already looking out for your well being as you vaguely remembered him gently, but firmly steering you away from his front door.

“SO, like I said earlier, we’re going out to celebrate you lucky bitch!”

You couldn’t even see your sister, her head was buried so far in the closet as she rummaged through your belongings. Her muffled voice drifted from the rows of clothing; “Wear this!” 

You scoffed as she pulled a mini skirt from the depths. You’d forgotten you had that to be honest. It’d been years since you’d worn anything even remotely resembling club wear. 

“I’m a little old for that, don’t ya think?” 

“HAH! Don’t be such an old lady - put it on!” 

Snatching it from her grasp, you narrowed your eyes at the jab before turning from her. Stepping into the garment, you grumbled again, complaining that it barely covered your ass. Turning, you grimaced when you saw yourself in the full length mirror hung on your wall. When you moved to tug at the hem, your sister slapped at your hands “leave it alone, you look great.” 

Pulling a distressed AC/DC tank top from a drawer, she threw it at you as she turned to find her own clothes. 

“You do know it’s November, right?” 

“Yeah, so? We’re gonna be drinking and dancing, you’re gonna get overheated, just like you always do.” 

You couldn’t deny her logic. Knowing she was right, but not wanting to admit it, you pulled the shirt over your head.

A frigid winter breeze whipped around your legs as you stepped from your car that evening. For a Saturday night, you had been pleasantly surprised to find parking downtown. Glaring over at your sister, you scoffed at her choice of skinny jeans and a halter top. 

“How come you got to wear pants?” 

She merely laughed at you, waving off your protests as she grabbed your hand, pulling open the door of Toro de Fuego, your first stop for the evening. 

“These guys have the best nachos, you have to try them!” 

An enormous black, wrought iron and glass bull statue stood in the middle of the room, a roaring fire flickering around it’s hooves. With a friendly greeting, a woman in a tight black dress led you to one of the many tables clustered around the massive beast. She handed out menus as you lowered yourself into one of the chairs, conscious of how very short your skirt was.

“We’ll have two orders of your awesome nachos, and I’d like a shot of whatever tequila you recommend.” Smiling, the waiter turned his head to you, silently asking for your drink order. 

“Uhm, iced te--” 

“Oh no, no you don’t. Make that two shots please.” Smiling, the man took your menus, nodding towards your sister before bustling away to fill the order. 

“Come on, you know what happens when I drink tequila,” you whined. You swore her eyes sparkled as she nodded her comprehension. 

Folding her hands on the table before her, she laughed. “I know exactly what happens, which is precisely why I ordered it for you. You need to loosen up a bit, ya prude.”

Stuffing another chip into your mouth, your eyes closed in bliss as the combination of beef, cheese and olives assaulted your senses. After the first shot of tequila, your apprehension had started to let up, and now after your second, you were laughing, completely giddy. 

“I can’t believe my new boss is Misha fucking Collins!” Squealing, you slapped at your sister, who chuckled under her breath. 

“Fuckin’ lucky bitch.” “C’mon, let’s head over to The Kiwi.” Throwing a few twenties down on the table, you pushed out from your chair, teetering only slightly as you wrapped your arm through your sisters, smiling as the two of you left the restaurant.

The Kangaroo and Kiwi was a bar down the street. Housed in an old library building, the multi-story establishment, aside from the sprawling bar, had converted the entire second level into a game room. Making your way to the back end of the first floor, your sister pulled her hand out of yours, shouting that she was going to find a table while you got drinks.

She watched as you threaded your way through through the few groups of people who’d accumulated. To call the walnut-stained structure a table was certainly an understatement, but she laid claim to two of the barstools surrounding the tabletop anyhow. Barely wide enough to support a couple of drink glasses, your sister folded her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair before sitting. Smirking, she pulled out her phone, bringing up the camera as she noticed you leaning against the bar, waiting on your drinks.

‘Having a great time celebrating [Y/F/N]’s new position! #girlsnight, #kangaroonkiwi, #drinksallround.’ Posting the update to social media, she put her phone down on the table just as you were returning, chilled cocktails held in each hand.

The raucous laughter intensified as the bar began to fill. At ten o’clock, most every table was now full, the melodic sounds of celtic rock floating over your head had you swaying in your chair. You loved this feeling, the slight buzz resulting from your third drink had plastered a perma-grin on your face. Chin resting in one hand, you stared out into space, seeing nothing but the memories of the previous night flitting through your mind. 

“ ‘Scuse me gehls, I couna ‘elp bet notice yer sittin’ here all alone. Ma naems’ Galen, will ye dance wi me?”

The man standing before you smiled, rich copper hair falling over his bright eyes. You grinned, about to decline when you felt a vice grip around your bare thigh. Leaning into your sister, you whispered into her hair “you’re staring, love.” 

Turning back to the gentleman standing before you, you smiled “I’m okay, but my sister would love to.” 

A small, strangled sound escaped her as the man turned bright green eyes to her, a slow smile spreading across his features. Holding out a hand for your sister, you laughed to yourself as he led her away, a worried expression shot at you over her shoulder as they disappeared into the crowd.

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

Vicki had left early that morning for a guest lecture assignment at a University in California. Shortly after [Y/F/N] had left, Misha had driven her to the airport; dropping the kids off at their grandparents house for the night. While he was often away from home for work, rarely did he have a quiet night to himself with no responsibilities. Clicking the power button on the remote control in his hand, he tossed it on the coffee table in front of him. 

Yawning, he rubbed his hands over his face and stretched. Picking up his phone from the couch next to him, he opened his Instagram feed, mindlessly scrolling through the images posted by his friends and followers. It had taken him only a minute to find your dash and he smiled as he scrolled through your pictures, clicking the follow button. His breath hitched in his throat as the feed updated, the picture your sister had posted now prominently displayed in front of him. 

“Fuuuuccckk” he groaned under his breath. In the black and white image, you appeared to be laughing while ordering drinks. Bent over the top of a busy bar, people flocked on either side of you. Your long [Y/H/C] cascaded in soft waves down your back, brushing the top of the mini skirt you wore. The lighting in the bar was dim, and the filters blurred the people around you, highlighting long legs as they stretched from beneath the fringe of material barely covering your ass.

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

Your sister returned from her dance, breathless, a sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead. The wide grin spread over her face evidence of the fun she'd had with Galen.

Seeing your phone vibrate on the table-top, you lifted the device into your hand, pulling your gaze from your sister to take a swallow of your drink as you looked down at the notification.

Swiping the screen to check the text message, confusion rolled through your eyes as you noticed it was from Misha. Flicking your gaze up to the time in the corner, you saw that it was approaching midnight.

“Hey babe, miss you already, can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

Babe?” Gods he was a tease. Noting the multi-media message, you assumed it was a picture of Misha, but you nearly choked on your drink when your screen lit up, the soft glow illuminating your shocked expression in the darkness of the room.

A shirtless Misha stretched the length of the frame, sharp hip bones framing the thick cock gripped in his hand. Unconsciously, your thighs snapped together as you clutched the phone to your chest, your heart thudding frantically. 

A strangled cry and the coughing that resulted caught your sister’s attention and her eyes narrowed “You uh, you okay hun?” 

Your eyes widened, mouth hanging open in shock as you lifted your gaze to your sister’s face. Unintelligible noises fell from your lips as she came around to your side of the table, looking down at the screen you held clutched in your hands. 

“Ho-Oh! Who sent tha--oh fuck! Uh. Wow. You, uh, you sure nothing happened last night?” 

Her eyes flicked back and forth between you and the image clutched in your shaky hands.

“Wha-what do I do?!” You were flailing a bit now, trying to calm your frantic pulse. Snatching the phone from your hands, your sister hit reply, typing out a message before hitting the send button. 

“There, taken care of!” Looking down at the sent messages, you paled upon seeing what she’d written:

“Babe? Really?! You’re killing me right now. Tease.”

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

Misha, concerned, glanced at the notification. “Why is [Y/F/N] texting me?” Flicking open the message, confusion chased over his features as he read the text. Scrolling back through his sent notes, he was about to ask for clarification when he saw it...

Fingers deftly moved over his keyboard, and he hit send before scrambling off the couch, running his hand through his hair.

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

You jumped as the phone buzzed in your hand, hesitant as you opened the message:

“Fuck.”

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

He’d meant to send that to Vicki. She was his assistant for fuck’s sake, what was she going to think now?

Grabbing the phone he'd abandoned, he clicked on Vicky’s contact image before highlighting the green call button. It was after midnight but he had to ask her what to do.

She answered on the fourth ring, sleep laced through her breathless voice. “Mish, babe, what's wrong?”

When he'd finished recounting the mistaken text he'd sent, she was quiet on the other end. For a space of heartbeats he wondered if she'd fallen back to sleep. 

“Vicki?” 

The laughter that assaulted his phone could have been heard by anyone, had he not been alone. It took her several minutes, but finally she calmed enough to let him know he was on his own. 

“Ah, ha. You uh, good luck with that one love. Lemme know how that works out for ya.” With a soft click, Misha held the phone out in front of him. Incredulous.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[losille2000]

A Saving Grace, Chapter 1

TITLE: A Saving Grace CHAPTER NUMBER: 1/? + Prologue AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH Henry/CHARACTER: Actor!Henry GENRE: Drama/Romance FIC SUMMARY: All press is good press, right? Not if you ask Henry Cavill. After recordings from a disastrous interview go viral, Henry’s life begins to crumble around him. He has no idea how to stop it from happening. Fortunately, he has a new assistant who could be his saving Grace. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: Um, nothing yet. Maybe there’s more language in this than I usually use. And I think Henry will be a little dominant. But other than that... none. AUTHORS NOTES: Enjoy!

Previous Chapter. Also on AO3!

A Saving Grace Chapter 1

 Grace slammed her fist on the desk, rattling the computer monitor and other office supplies sitting on it.  She pushed away from her computer and leaned back in her chair, groaning at the ceiling. That was the sixth boyfriend in two years who sent a breakup email instead of having the decency to say it to her face. And that didn’t even include the endless parade of first dates that never turned into seconds, or some that didn’t even last past the first hellos.

 She was done with Internet dating. And Tinder. And all the other horrible websites out there claiming they were going to find her the perfect husband with their scientifically tested matching algorithms and stupidly sweet commercials. None of this shit worked for women who weren’t the idealized version of the feminine form.

 “What’s your problem?” asked the voice beside her.

Grace turned to the thin man sitting at the desk beside her in the open floorplan office.  He pulled off his large headphones and set them on his neck as she frowned. “Do I look like a cave troll, Eli?”

 Eli pursed his pillowy lips and tossed back the dark hair that had fallen in his amber colored eyes. He tried looking like a tortured hipster with frayed skinny jeans, plaid button downs with rolled up sleeves, and that ridiculous floppy hair, but there was no hiding that he was just another pretty boy underneath it all. “Only when Aunt Flo visits, baby.”

 “Ugh!” She kicked the leg of the table harder than she intended, crunching her toes in her bargain brand heels. “I’m so fucking done with this bullshit. Why’s it so hard to find a man in this godforsaken town?”

 Eli looked at her and shook his head. Of course, he didn’t need to answer. She already knew why. That’s what happens to people who live in the most vapid and self-centered place in the world.

 He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and lifted it so she could see, pointing a finger at the screen. “Do I need to call Ty and tell him we’re taking our wifey out drinking tonight?”

 “No,” Grace said. “I’m just going to hang out with Ben and Jerry tonight.”

 “Don’t do that, Graciela!” he cried. “We’ve been doing so good on the food plan!”

 Grace huffed. Yeah, well, she started the blasted food plan because her now ex-boyfriend suggested she do it. She didn’t even know why she agreed; she should have known he wasn’t worth it. All her life she’d been rounder, but she’d never really cared about it, even enjoyed having the extra shapeliness. Until him. Until she began realizing all the men she had any interest in wanted an extremely specific body type in their women. Now, however, she knew it was simply due to her choice in men and nothing to do with her. So that meant she either had to lower her expectations in men or live the rest of her life content with vibrators and fantasies.

 At least Eli and his husband had agreed to do the diet with her, though neither of them had any weight to lose and simply wanted to sculpt their muscles further. And of course, they’d been spectacularly successful, because they were men. Why did they always get it so easy?

 “I’m done with this shit,” she said. “I’m eating all the elotes and frijoles I want, starting this weekend at my mom’s birthday.”

 “Now don’t be drastic,” Eli urged, wheeling closer to her. “You’ve put in so much work.”

 She suffered the disgusting green smoothies and tasteless boiled chicken breasts for months only to lose two pounds. Grace shook her head. “Nope. I like enjoying food more, thank you very much.”

 They were disturbed by Eli’s office phone extension ringing. Grace looked back at her computer screen and the constantly updating Twitter stream scrolling across it. She should get back to work monitoring her accounts, but she just couldn’t make herself do it. Not today. Fuck all these people trying to be something they most certainly were not to impress others. Why had she ever gotten into public relations, anyway?

 She groaned and wheeled forward with another grumble under her breath, reaching for the computer mouse, but froze when she heard, “Navarro! Get in my office!”

 “Now doesn’t that make my fucking day,” she muttered under her breath. Being called to the boss’s office in that tone of voice did not bode well for her, even though she always made sure her work was impeccable. What was he planning to yell at her for now?

 Her boss, Dave, always found reasons to pick at her work or created traps to trip her up. In the beginning, she ignored it because public relations was hard in Hollywood—one of the most difficult fields in the entertainment industry. Emotions ran high and everyone was expected to be on their A-game every single minute of every single hour they were on the clock… and honestly, even when they were off the clock. Their clients’ careers depended on it, after all. She understood his picking in the beginning. As time marched on, though, with men promoted before her and hired after with less education and skill, plus the shit always seeming to land on her head when something went south, she was at a breaking point. And that didn’t even include the number of times he sent her on coffee runs or asked her to make copies when his male assistant was perfectly capable. Dave was nothing more than a sexist pig.

 Grace stood up from her desk and smoothed the sheer blouse over her stomach, making sure it was still tucked into the waist of her pencil skirt.  She bent to look in the little mirror she and Eli kept between them and breathed in a sigh. At least she wasn’t crying after the email, or it would have destroyed her makeup. She refused to give Dave the pleasure of seeing evidence of her emotions smeared all over her face.

 She quickly moved across the office floor and stopped in front of Dave’s door, knocking lightly and letting herself inside the room. Dave sat at the round meeting table inside with another man who was probably in his late forties, good looking with graying hair. She’d never seen him before. He smiled brightly and stood up to greet her.

 “Fred Wellington, Grace Navarro,” Dave introduced with a curt nod between them. “Sit down, Navarro.”

 She shot him a pointed frown and pulled a seat out. “What’s wrong?”

 Dave sat forward and folded his hands over a thick file. “Fred is Henry Cavill’s agent, here on behalf of Henry’s manager, Dany Garcia.”

 “Ooookay,” Grace said, dragging out the word.

 She knew about Henry Cavill. Everyone knew about Henry Cavill and what had happened to the once Golden Boy of the DC movies universe. He had an appalling interview with an unscrupulous journalist who published audio for a very large pay day. The things that were said in the interview were career and character suicide, whether the audio was heavily edited or not, and whether the journalist purposely backed Cavill into a corner to get the incriminating answers she wanted. In PR terms, he was dead in the water and needed resuscitation.

 His previous PR agency dropped him, which led them to her company, Elite Solutions PR, in the hope of recovering his image. Being such a high-profile person, Dave placed the account with his senior staff, not with her, a lowly social media specialist. She hadn’t heard much about the plans to bring his career back to life after the initial intake.

 “Ms. Navarro, nice to meet you.” Fred smiled kindly and stretched his hand out to shake hers. At least Fred seemed like a decent guy.

 Dave blustered and patted his tie down a slightly protruding beer gut.

 Grace smiled back. “You, too.”

 “Fred and I have been talking about the targeted campaign we’ve put together for his client’s reintroduction to the public,” Dave explained. “Since Warner Brothers decided to keep him on as Superman, they want to use the Justice League promo tour to help springboard a new image.”

 She nodded, trying not to hope this was Dave offering her a promotion. As much as she could use the boost in pay and an office of her own—with windows—she didn’t want this one because Dave would micromanage the shit out of her. “Why don’t you just send him to rehab like everyone else who needs an image reboot? People love comeback stories.”

 Fred sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve floated that to him, but he refuses.”

 “It worked with Affleck—”

 “Right, but it works in Ben’s favor because he plays Bruce Wayne. Superman is a golden hearted country boy and a stint in rehab doesn’t suit the image, which WB then agreed with. And his business manager didn’t like it either. It’s why we’re here and signing with Elite. Our previous PR fired him because he wouldn’t accept that media plan.”

 So on top of being a chauvinistic idiot stuck in the 50s, he’s stubborn as fuck. Great.

 “I’m not understanding why you need me, Dave. I’m just a social media specialist,” Grace said.

 Dave cleared his throat. “We’re getting there, Navarro.”

 She flattened her lips into a line. Double great, she thought. From his tone of voice alone, she knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

 “Henry has, however, agreed to play the long game. To be better in interviews and follow the guidance of his PR assistant in future interactions with the public,” Fred explained.

 “We’re planning to get him in at several charity functions along the publicity tour to bolster the positive side of his image,” Dave explained. “That’s in addition to a few puff pieces we’ve hand selected to give him the best coverage. When it comes to film-specific interactions, we will yield to WB’s publicist, but our firm will always be represented.”

 Grace understood. “So you’re sending him a babysitter.”

 Dave’s beady shit brown eyes narrowed. “Precisely, Navarro. And you’re the babysitter.”

“Excuse me?” she asked.

 Fred gave her a tight smile. “He doesn’t have a personal assistant at the moment, either, so I thought whoever Dave selected for the position might take on a few of those tasks for the promo tour to cut cost. It’ll keep him out of trouble—away from clubs, women and alcohol. At least until this all blows over.”

 Grace puffed up her cheeks and blew out a long stream of air. “With all due respect, the man practically lives in a club. How do you think you’re going to keep him out of one?”

 “That’s your job,” Dave said.

 “And I am also a woman,” she replied. And I fucking love tequila.

 Dave glanced over at her, his eyes slithering down her body and back up to her face. He made his point without having to say anything, just like Miranda Priestly did to Andi Sachs in The Devil Wears Prada. She needed a scalding shower to clean off the slime now on her skin.

 “If I refuse?” Grace asked.

 “I’ll expect your resignation on my desk in the morning, then,” Dave replied.

 She rolled her eyes. What choice did she have anyway? It was fucking impossible to get your foot in the door at an agency like this anywhere in Los Angeles. She didn’t have the funds to move elsewhere in the world to a location with a high demand for publicists, and she certainly needed the funds she did have to pay her bills here. And then there was the matter of starting all over again, from the ground up, with no family or friends to help in a distant location. She sure as hell wasn’t about to do that with another boss who could be worse than Dave.

 Grace sank back into her seat and glanced across the table at Fred, who still looked apologetic about Dave’s behavior. At least there was someone with a little heart in this industry.

 “What about my other accounts?” she asked. She had no other suitable objections to the work but those.

 “We’ll split them between Elijah and Lachlan,” Dave said. “Your soul responsibility for the next two months is Cavill—make sure he stays on the straight and narrow and don’t let other people goad him into spouting off again.”

 She locked her jaw and gave him a swift, curt nod. She could do it; what could possibly be so hard about shepherding a wayward movie star? She just wished that someone else had been assigned the task. PR assistant was one thing, but they also wanted her to be part personal assistant. Knowing that Dave thought so little of her contribution to the office that he was willing to assign her a task rife with picking up dry cleaning and grocery shopping set her teeth on edge. Or maybe he had the greatest amount of trust in her that she’d do the job so well, that he felt comfortable giving her the responsibility?

 Grace looked at the balding man again. No, he didn’t trust her. Couldn’t possibly. She didn’t have the necessary appendage. But she was a woman, so he must have figured she’d be good at getting coffee and cleaning up after an arrogant actor.

 “When do I start?” she asked.

 Fred smiled. “Tomorrow morning. Say… ten? You can dress casually, though. No need for business attire…”

 …when you’re running around doing errands.

 Yeah, she knew what he meant.

 “Great,” she replied and turned to Dave. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish off if I’m handing my accounts over before I leave.”

 Dave waved her off without another thought.  She nodded at Fred and beat a hasty retreat out of his office. She went directly for Eli’s desk and held her hand out, wiggling her fingers. “I need a cigarette.”

 “Okay, I’m definitely not letting you have one of those,” he said, looking up at her. “You told me never to let you have another one when you quit last year.”

 “But I need one,” she groaned. “My life has just turned to shit in a half hour and I need something. Anything.”

 Eli squinted. “That bad, huh?”

 Grace groaned and raked a hand through her long black-brown hair. Her fingers snagged on a tangle deep in the voluminous tresses. She winced. “Please.”

 He reluctantly pulled out his latest pack and stuck one in her hand with the rainbow-colored lighter. Eli was never one for subtlety. “Don’t come crying to me because you’re hooked again.”

 She rolled her eyes and darted through the office for the exit leading to the outdoor smoking area. Even before she flicked the wheel on the butane lighter, she felt the tingle and burn of smoke filling her lungs, the eventual long pull relaxing her frayed nerves. God, she needed one of these.

 Grace sucked in another mouthful, resting her back against the brick façade of their first-floor office. The heat of the sun had baked the red bricks throughout the day, which in turn heated her back and scratched against her body like a five-hundred-dollar hot stone massage, which she definitely didn’t have the money for, so it was nice to lean there and enjoy the sensation. Small pleasures and all that.

 She turned her face up to the clear blue sky and hot sun. Sometimes living in SoCal had a lot of negatives like superficiality and traffic, but warmth in October was definitely a positive. It wouldn’t be this warm in the other places she would be traveling in the coming months; she figured it was worth it now to soak it all up. Why she even considered leaving LA a few minutes ago confused her. Between the sunny days and her family, she couldn’t imagine living any other place in the world.

 A clearing throat made her turn her head.  She blinked away the sun, allowing her pupils time to adjust to the shadow on her left. Fred was standing just outside the door, his hands in his pockets. He was taller than her, not by much, but he still gave her a feeling that he was powerful. Except he was also soft spoken and one of those men who didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard.

 “I’m sorry for intruding,” he said. “I wanted to talk with you a little more.”

 “About?” she asked, raising a brow at him. Her objective with their mutual client was simple: mollycoddle the hell out of him and don’t let him talk to anyone.

 He smiled. “About your new charge.”

 Grace dropped her shoulders and pushed away from the wall. She snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray to her right and stepped into the shade. Dark skin or not, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with skin cancer.

 “He’s a decent guy. I know what you must have heard about the story and it doesn’t paint that type of picture,” Fred said, “but I’ve never known him to be like that—with me or with women. Sometimes, though, he has word vomit. He’s almost… socially awkward, you know?”

 She nodded. Even though she’d worked in this business for five years and met a lot of famous people who always seemed to have it all, there was always something that they were desperate to overcome or hide. It’s why they hired publicists—to hide or minimize their brokenness or their problems. The public wanted perfection. They wanted to live their lives in dream worlds and fantasies based on these people who supposedly had it all. Unfortunately, the public usually didn’t get to see just how fucked up their idols’ lives were because of people like her.

 “He’s been my client for ten years now. He’s good people and I want to see him succeed, not just because he’s my star right now,” Fred said.

 She heard his earnestness. Fred was a good guy, whether he was a cutthroat in the industry or not. “I understand.”

 He coughed into his hand and stepped forward. “And I want to make sure that you’ll do your best. Dave can be—”

 “Yeah, I know,” she said. “But he’s the best fixer in this industry.”

 “Definitely.”

 Grace sighed. “Mr. Wellington—”

 “Fred,” he corrected.

“Fred.” She really did like him. He didn’t give off the air of sleaziness that so many in this town did. “I plan to do my job to the best of my abilities. Believe me.”

 And it was the truth. Even though she despised the reason for being placed in this role, she never shirked her responsibilities. She worked hard and took pleasure in hard work. Life was hard, too, but it could have been harder if she didn’t have such a strong ethic. Sometimes, though, it was a lot to handle all at once. By tomorrow morning, after having some time to cool down and re-center herself, she had little doubt she would perform admirably.

 Fred smiled again, looking her over, from feet to head, but it wasn’t in the smarmy way Dave had done in the office. This appraisal was one of measurement—measuring everything about her that wasn’t physical, if he could do such a thing by judging her exterior. “Have you had a chance to meet Dany Garcia, yet? She’s Henry’s business manager.”

 “Unfortunately, no,” she said.

 “But you have heard of her before today?”

 “Oh, yeah,” Grace replied with a nod. Dany was Dwayne Johnson’s ex and his wildly successful business partner with her own powerful management firm. “Who hasn’t? She’s created an empire.”

 “That she has,” Fred said. “You remind me of her. You have the same chutzpah. I think when you meet her and the team, you’ll hit it off. She didn’t come today because she can’t stand Dave, so she asked me to do the dirty work.”

 Grace laughed at his explanation. “I’m sorry you had to deal with it, too.”

 The man shrugged and stepped closer to her as though they were conspiring on some great plot. “Play your cards right, and I’ll make sure Dany finds a position for you on her team after the tour.”

 “Are you serious?”

 “As a heart attack.” He grinned and reached into his suit coat for a business card. Then he offered it to her. “If you need anything at all, please call my direct line. They have the dossier and all your information inside, but someone from Dany’s office will meet you at Henry’s tomorrow morning.”

 Grace looked at the card and ran her finger over the raised lettering and expensive linen cardstock. She looked up and offered her hand again. “Thank you, Fred.”

 “No problem, Grace,” he said and stepped away from her, toward the sidewalk that would lead him to the parking lot. “Remember, I’ll be watching you.”

 She saluted him as he strode away. He drove off in a shiny Mercedes. Finally, she sighed and looked at the watch on her wrist. “I guess break’s over.”

 At least, she thought as she opened the door into her office, the afternoon wasn’t a total waste. It was enough to get her back to her computer to close shop for the foreseeable future. The only problem left was breaking it to Eli that she wasn’t going to be around as much.