#and get told 'hey this is a chat for finding coverage. post about this in the app nobody looks at next time'

[headslikekites]

world's worst (exaggeration?) day of work and it's only tuesday

[moonlight0934]

Wake Up

Bellamy paces in front of the infirmary, waiting on Clarke’s shift to be done so they can get some dinner. It takes another twenty minutes for Clarke to come out. She looks surprised to see Bellamy.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I thought we were eating together.”

“I mean, we were going to, but I thought you would have gone ahead already, or that you would have come in to check what was taking so long. I had to finish up a few vaccines.”

“Ok, that’s fine. I had no problem waiting. Are you ready to go now?”

“Yeah, but don’t you have the night shift tonight?”

“Yeah, but that just means that we’ll have to cut dinner short. It doesn’t start for another half hour, so by the time we get food, we should have ten to fifteen minutes to eat.”

“That doesn’t leave long to talk,” Clarke comments, sounding a little sad.

“Don’t worry, Princess. You can tell me about your day while I’m eating, and you can eat while I’m at work.”

Clarke nods, seemingly placated, though still not particularly happy. They grab food and sit down at one of the empty tables. Clarke starts talking about her day while Bellamy eats his food, and watches her. Almost twenty minutes later, Bellamy gets to his feet.

“I have to get to work, but I’ll see you later.”

She nods, seeming disappointed. Bellamy shakes that thought out of his head, not willing to let himself think like that. He walks to work, signing in before grabbing his gear. It’s quiet for a little while before Murphy walks over.

“Hey, boss. They want you to do the first outside perimeter walk,” he says, leaning against the non-electric part of the fence.

“Ok, and you’re here to watch my post while I do that?”

“Yep, you got it.”

“Ok, I’ll be back in twenty minutes tops.”

Murphy nods, and Bellamy starts his walk around camp. He stops by each guard post to make sure that everything is good, and there’s nothing to report. Murphy is leaning back with his eyes closed when Bellamy gets back.

“Dude, you’re supposed to be watching. Something could get past you.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to get past me,” Murphy replies, opening his eyes, and straightening up.

“Yeah, whatever. Scram, and let me finish my shift.”

Murphy rolls his eyes as he walks away.

“I should kick his ass,” Bellamy mutters, settling back down.

The rest of the night is quiet, though he does end up doing all of the rounds himself, which he doesn’t question, but does find odd. Eventually Miller comes to let him off shift.

“Hey, you can head off now. I already signed in, and have all my gear.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy says, stretching.

He checks his gun back in before heading to breakfast. Clarke waves him over, but before he can join her, Kane walks over to him.

“Hey, I need to talk to you alone for a minute.”

Bellamy nods, following him away from everyone.

“What’s going on?”

“Did you see anything odd last night?”

“No, why?”

“Well, someone reported a shadowy figure in camp while everyone else had already gone to bed, and I was told that it was your section. Did you walk away at any point? Leave your post? It’s ok if you did. I’m just trying to figure out if this has any possibility of being a real issue.”

“No, I didn’t. I’m not a child, Kane. You should punish me if I did leave my post, but I didn’t.”

“Ok, and on your rounds, did you have coverage between one a.m. and four a.m.?”

“Yeah, I had someone there the entire time. I think it was Sergeant Miller who was covering at that point. He was on call for most of the morning.”

“Ok, I’ll speak with him, but it might have no basis in the first place.”

Bellamy nods, then heads back to the eating area. Bellamy continues his day, almost forgetting about the encounter all together. He ends up helping Monty with a project for a few hours, meaning he doesn’t get to sleep until almost three that afternoon.

It’s dark by the time he gets back up. Clarke is in bed, dinner is already over, and night shift is about to start. Bellamy chats with Miller for a few minutes before Miller heads to bed. It’s only a few minutes because Miller’s been on shift for almost twelve hours straight. Bellamy starts walking around camp to wear himself out so he can get some more sleep before his shift in the morning. He makes a few laps around camp before he sees a shadowy figure near the corner of the Ark.

Bellamy cocks his head, wondering who could be out that late. Then he remembers the conversation he had with Kane that morning, and takes a step towards the figure. Before he can do anything, another figure that he didn’t see flies at him, slamming his entire body weight into Bellamy. He feels his head hit a rock before everything goes dark.

Clarke wakes up early, a weird feeling swirling in her gut. She climbs out of bed, getting ready, then heading to the infirmary. She doesn’t even make it there since one of the guards, a man that she doesn’t recognize, is actively trying to wrestle someone else to the ground. The man is screaming while the guard looks startled.

There’s blood nearby, a lot of it. However, neither of them seems to be injured, and they’re definitely not bleeding enough to cause a puddle like that. Also, once she looks closer, she can tell that the blood on the ground looks older. The guard manages to knock the man out as Clarke runs over.

“What happened?” she demands.

“I’m not sure, ma’am. I was going to sign in, and this guy jumped me. I’m going to get some rope, and ask the guard if they saw anything.”

Clarke nods numbly, wondering whose blood is on the ground. The guard comes back with rope soon.

“Ma’am, can you get Kane? The guard on shift near here was asleep, and apparently has been all night. He has no idea who the blood belongs to, and claimed that something like that would have woken him up.”

“Yeah, of course I can go get Kane.”

Clarke runs off. She brings Kane back to the spot while explaining what happened and what they know already. Kane looks angry, and a little worried by the time they get there. He heads straight to the guard station while Clarke stays back. She looks around the area, finding a few other spots of blood, and one running trail that’s a few feet away from the large spot.

“Hey, I have a blood trail!”

The guard jogs over to her.

“I’m going to follow it.”

The guard nods, slipping his gun back into his hand. He walks slightly in front as they follow the trail of blood to a currently empty section of the Ark. It’s one of the parts that gets worked in, and it’s too early for almost anyone to be awake. The blood trail stops directly in front of a door. Clarke reaches over, and presses the button to open up the door while the guard stays ready.

Someone lunches at them as soon as the door opens, and the guard fires two shots, dropping him before he can reach them. Clarke pokes her head in the room, then runs in.

“Clarke, I have to secure the room,” the guard says, following her.

She kneels down beside Bellamy, who is on the ground, still bleeding from a massive head wound. His eyes are closed, and his skin is practically white despite his normal complexion.

“Go get my mom,” Clarke says, her eyes wide.

The guard nods, running out of the room. Clarke taps Bellamy’s face.

“Bellamy, wake up. Come on, can you open your eyes for me?” she whispers, her voice and tone soft.

Bellamy doesn’t move, doesn’t respond at all.

“Come on, Bellamy.”

She looks over his head, sucking in a soft breath when she sees bone.

“Shit.”

She puts a hand under his nose and over his mouth. It takes a few seconds, but she can feel the shaky exhale against her fingers.

“Oh thank God,” she whispers, putting her head lightly against his shoulder. “You need to wake up, Bellamy.”

She still hasn’t gotten anything from Bellamy by the time her mom shows up. Clarke is holding back tears, shaking as she holds onto Bellamy’s arm.

“Get her out of here, and send Marcus back this way,” Abby says calmly.

They end up heading to Mount Weather with Bellamy, but it’s still a few hours after they get there that Clarke is able to see him. Kane and Abby are talking when she gets in there.

“Is he ok?” she whispers, not able to look at her mom.

“He’s stable.”

“Did you figure out what happened?”

“Well, somewhat. Apparently those people were people that were missing in action after the assault on Mount Weather. They were half mad off of some kind of toxin made from plants nearby. We’re still unsure of what happened between now and the last time we saw them, or how they got into camp, but we’re working on it,” Kane says, frowning deeply.

“What’s his condition?” Clarke asks, turning to Abby.

“Well, I got him patched up. We don’t know exactly what his mental state will be. We can’t even be sure that he’s going to wake up.”

Clarke sniffles, and Abby wraps her arms around her.

“We’re doing everything we can for him.”

“I know, but he was supposed to be safe in the walls.”

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

1/3 of the Reality Stone fragments remained with its host, Ripley Ryan, in the hospital. Determined to finish what they started, the Black Widow and Winter Soldier headed to the Intensive Care Unit along with a team of mutants who were sent by Wanda Maximoff to cast a reality binding spell. Once their goal was achieved, there was nothing standing between them and Zemo at the Town Hall.

These events come AFTER the INN and MUSEUM and before the TOWN HALL.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky pushed through the hospital doors with both hands, metal clinking against the acrylic outer shell and double paned panels. He was hot on Natasha's heels, having made a pitstop for the both of them at the museum before the rest of the crew could cause too much of an issue. When he caught up to her just before she hit the stairwell, he slid her a twin set of guns and then readjusted the strap to his AR. "Sure we can't just shoot first and ask questions later?"

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Although not in her suit, Natasha had clicked on the two Widow’s Bites that Barnes had taken from the Museum. The two guns were a gift from a poor S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was now weaponless, but Natasha accepted them from James all the same. “You want to risk shooting the wrong person?” Checking how much ammo she had, the Widow shook her head. “Personal mission. Maybe bad form, but family first.” Knowing that Taskmaster was in the building - and still sore from their last run in  - Natasha quietly pushed the door open and raised her gun while she rounded the corner, coming face to face with a crying girl in scrubs. “Too easy.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked his tongue at that. "Fuck form. I would've taken more, but I know how much Barton is attached to his bow." he was only mildly joking, using it as a way to fill the space so he didn't spiral into his own mind. "Think we should've accepted back up?" And now he really was joking, mirroring Nat with his own weapon. He stopped short when they came around the corner and he instinctively tightened his grip on his gun. "It's never that easy."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Eyes rolling, Natasha quickly checked over her shoulder. “Easy to say when it fits the situation,” she hummed. “We do have back-up. Bobbi’s here and changing. She’s got the codes. Psylocke is somewhere looking for her friends. Apparently, Wanda is helping the mutants.” Whatever helped them through. Lowering her gun slightly, Natasha glanced from the sniffling young adult to the name tag she wore. “Hey, Astrid. Sad day at the hospital?”

YELENA BELOVA: Caught up in her own moping, ‘Astrid’ started at the sound of the woman’s voice and sat up as she quickly wiped at her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. No. I mean -- yes. It’s a hospital. But our patients usually are cured. Just bad dating experiences. Dumb, I know.” She nudged her magazine closed. “Are you here to visit someone?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Bad dating experiences?" he couldn't keep the question out of his tone, the laughable disbelief. He cocked the gun single handedly before dropping it back in his grip. "In fact we are. Wanna tell me who it is you're crying over?"

YELENA BELOVA: Although his tone was a little snide, the brunette didn’t notice. It was lonely at the front desk if she wasn’t making rounds and her friends were fine but the recent dumping had taken a toll. “His name is Jim. He’s a nice guy. Was a nice guy. We went on a few dates and he went all two-faced. Completely ghosted me. That was three days ago.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Natasha wracked her brain. “Helmut,” she swore under her breath. “Astrid, have you talked to ‘Jim’ since?”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky just...blinked at her. Then, all of a sudden he barked a laugh, shaking his head. "How mad would you be if I took out all of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asked, voice lower, only for Nat to hear. "Yeah, 'Strid, we just wanna talk to him. He's like family, you get it."

YELENA BELOVA: Finally really taking the guns in consideration, Astrid slowly stood and reached around her scrubs for her buzzer. “I should call Chris. He’s head of Hospital security and he can help you figure out where you’re headed.”

BUCKY BARNES: That wasn’t really part of the plan. “Yel-Astrid, Jim’s a little more important right now.” With a sigh, Bucky aimed the AR, barrel directed at ‘Astrid’. “We don’t need head of security.” A red dot appeared at the center of her scrubs, the buzz of the scope a sound only he could hear. “Just give Jim a call, yeah?”

YELENA BELOVA: “He’s not gonna answer,” she huffed as her eyes welled up again. “I just told you -- he’s not interested in me. I think it’s my thighs. It has to be.” Nearly crosseyed, she stared at the light on her scrubs and the demanding man. Fumbling for her phone, Astrid dialed with shaking fingers. Ring. Ring. Voicemail. “See? Thighs.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked off the scope, the red light disappearing before he lowered his gun. ”I’m just gonna hit her. You good with that?” he asked Natasha.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Watching the entire exchange, Natasha had shouldered past Yelena at one point to rummage through the cabinets behind the desk. They needed as much info about the Database as possible, and there a possibility some of Ripley’s medical records were there. At Bucky’s question, she glanced up. Yelena would be pissed, but the two of them had come for a reason. “Only if you’re done hearing about Jim.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Ha ha.” Bucky came over, keeping Astrid’s eyes on him as he came around the desk. “Hey, ‘Strid-“ he employed the same method he had used on the Wyngarde sister, slamming the side of his gun into her temple just hard enough to shake around some loose change. “You have great thighs.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “Oof.” Natasha exhaled as the gun connected with her sisters temple. Deftly moving to catch Yelena and ease her to the ground, the spy crouched down and inspected the welt that was already growing. It still didn’t look like Yelena, but she had stopped crying. “You could have been a little bit more graceful, but I’ll take it. Grab her.” Natasha rose. “We’re not leaving her for Taskmaster to find.” Best to let him think ‘Astrid’ had just abandoned her post or was doing her rounds. The S.H.I.EL.D. pager Bobbi had given her buzzed in her hand and Natasha pocketed it. “We’ve got a room. Intensive care unit, Room 8-1. You know, I always said Clint married up.” Grabbing Astrid’s badge for good measure, Natasha clicked the safety off on her gun. “Let’s go.”

KWANNON: Elsewhere, Psylocke and Laura had waited quietly in the shade of the building. The telepathic signal being emitted led the newly arrived X-Men to the hospital. Raven head tipped to the side, Psylocke held a hand out to gesture that Magik, Synch and Nico should enter the hospital. The door swung closed between them, faces flushing from recycled air. “Intensive Care Unit is the top floor. You know what to do?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Graceful?" it came out more as a scoff and Bucky crouched down, adjusting the AR to lay flat against his back again so he could sling Yelena's fake body over his shoulder. She hung limply, swaying back and forth when he stood. "When have you ever known me to be graceful." he said just as he twisted around, narrowly clipping Yelena's head on the edge of the counter. "ICU? What are the chances he'll be in a coma and I can just smother him."

EVERETT THOMAS: Synch followed Magik and the other witch into the hospital, trying his best not to let himself get too wrapped up in everything around him. This whole thing was pretty messed up of SHIELD, but his main focus was Laura. Even if she didn’t remember any of it, he still felt bonded to her in ways he could barely describe. And making sure she was safe was definitely high on his priorities. “Yeah, we’ve got it.” He responded to Kwannon, making sure to keep on high alert as he scanned their surroundings.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: The sneakers that she had worn as Lulu Gordon were more for show than actual practical use, and the treads were nearly nonexistent. Nat couldn’t actually remember working out in Pleasant Hill, just posing on her yoga mat for selfies instead. It was hard not to slide around with no traction but she pushed open a door to another stairwell and held it open for Bucky, watching to make sure he didn’t smack Yelena’s head into the wall. “You would have failed the Red Room,” she hummed. Presentation begets perfection, after all. Natasha had been the best. Yelena had been better. “Zemo’s at Town Hall. That’s not why we’re here. Ripley’s intubated upstairs. They’re making a play for the Infinity Stone. Did you read your file?” Stopping abruptly, Natasha flattened herself against the wall by the doorway of the next level. She could hear footsteps in the hall, and that felt deliberate in the quiet hospital. Gesturing with her chin towards the door, Nat pushed it open and raised her gun. She moved quickly to turn but still found her face connecting with a fist.

BUCKY BARNES: "I didn't care to read pages and pages of documents beyond who was who and what they were capable of." Which was a delicate way of saying, 'did you really think I would?'. Somewhere along the way of climbing flights, Bucky stashed Yelena's unconscious body in a medical supplies closet, knowing that she wouldn't wake up for a while and that he needed both hands. As soon as they both went into alert, hands moved too fast for Nat to dodge and him to barely skid to a stop and back up, gun immediately raising. He fired off a few rounds, the spray of bullets disoriented in the ambush.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Wiping blood off her nose, Natasha dropped her gun and kicked it to the side. Bullets never tended to work with Taskmaster. She’d keep it for backup. He had his shield and a collapsed bow. Claws in his gloves. Basically, he was as tricked out as ever. “Still sore about last time?” The ( former ) redhead squared her shoulders back. “Zemo can’t be offering you enough for this.” But he was silent, like always, and a moment later the two were locked in hand to hand combat.

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Sword pulled off of her back, Illyana cast a wary look around the hall. “I hate hospitals,” she muttered. Wanda’s spell was complicated but she had drilled it into the sorceress and witch. “It would be easier if we could teleport out after, but apparently we have to walk. No mutant left behind.” Lorna, Gabby, Rogue.

LAURA KINNEY: As the mutants made their way through the hospital, Laura paused and narrowed her eyes. There were more people in the hospital than their should have been. “Take the back.” She instructed Kwannon. “James Barnes is moving to the southern wing.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky dropped the gun, the strap catching on his shoulder before it banged against his hip. It was only Taskmaster, the asshole with the psuedo copycat style and a piss poor attitude. "Less talking-" he kicked at Taskmaster, just hard enough to diverge his attention and have him focused on both of them. "Glad I dropped our nice office secretary off, huh."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: He had got in three good hits but Natasha was at four. “Nursing student,” she huffed as she dodged a kick. “This is a dead end. He won’t quit. It’s called a distraction.”

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett followed closely behind, trying his best to keep close to Laura without making her feel like he was suffocating her. He didn’t want to make things weird in any way, but God was it hard. “Hey uh, are you okay?”

BUCKY BARNES: "So in all those times you've fought him, you never figured out a way to beat him?" They parried some more, moving this way and that. "I'm not going to leave you here to get your pretty yoga instructor face punched in."

BOBBI MORSE: One of the doctor’s personal offices had always been stocked for agents -- as a safety precaution. It was working well in their favor. Her locker held a spare uniform and set of staves that she gratefully hooked into their holsters before grabbing three disruptors. One went onto her own neck and her body shuddered in relief as her appearance twisted back to its regular self. She broke out in a sprint until she found Barnes and Romanoff, and Bobbi tossed them each a chip before kicking off the wall to strike Taskmaster with a baton. As she should have predicted, his bow separated into staves of his own. “What’re you guys still doing down here?”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: If she hadn’t been focused on not getting slashed in half with a sword, Natasha would have rolled her eyes. “It keeps evolving. More new heroes, more moves. We haven’t killed each other yet.” The elastic she had tied her hair up with was falling out, but then Bobbi was there. Nat caught the small chip and quickly fastened it on the back of her neck. There was a second before her body was her own once more, clothed in the uniform she had entered the town with. Even though she was lacking any of her weapons other than the Widow’s Bite, it felt good to see her own hands again. “How about my normal face getting punched in?”

BUCKY BARNES: "That isn't obvious?" Bucky said, arms coming up to cover his face when Taskmaster slammed a fist down. Jumping back, he caught the chip, using what he knew from the file to revert his appearance back into something a little bulkier, steadier, familiar. "It's not exactly easy to get to the reality stone harboring mad woman when there's 600 tons of body armor in the way."

LAURA KINNEY: Lips twitching, Laura pivoted on one heel. “I look like a cheerleader.” She had gone to pep rallies with pom-poms and enthusiasm. The whole nine yards. The worst part was that she had fun, on some level. That pretty much summed up how she was. “I want them to cast the spell so we can get out of here. No more Vaults, no more Pleasant Hill’s.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I have complete and total faith in this woman.” Bobbi held a hand to her temple to  stop her vision from swimming after a hit. “But we need to keep moving. Nat, you said you’re old friends. I don’t want to ruin the reunion.” When the redhead nodded, Bobbi arched a brow at Bucky before running into the nearest stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time.

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett couldn’t help his soft chuckle at the cheerleader comment as he nodded at her. “I mean, it’s not a bad look. Definitely not you, though.” He pointed out, nodding solemnly at her next words. But unfortunately, they were X-Men and this was probably not going to be the last Pleasant Hill. Or Vault. Before he could say much else, a scalpel flew through the air and stuck onto the wall next to them, revealing Bullseye standing down the hall. “Shit..”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian followed alongside the mutants as they made their way through the hospital, careful to be attentive to their surroundings. As they all rounded the corner, a scalpel was flung through the air, nearly hitting Viv in the face as it struck the wall and they were face to face with Bullseye. “We need to divide. We can’t let him keep us from the stone. Magik, Nico, I can phase us into her room? I think we’re close.”

BUCKY BARNES: "Shitty reunion." he looked over at Nat, only falling back from Taskmaster when he saw the confirmation in her steady gaze. Breaking off, he followed Bobbi up the stairs, finding no other obstacles before hitting a floor with double doors that read: Authorized Personnel Only: Intensive Care Unit. He slowed, weapon coming back around to rest in his grip. "They powered a whole town by putting a girl into a coma." he said it with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't exactly convincing me they shouldn't become a government section lost to time." The room was empty when they entered, the doors clattering behind them. He wasn't sure keeping quiet had any point anymore. Gun poised, he scanned the empty beds, not even noticing the low beep of the monitor and the occupied bed because his eyes landed on Yelena, seated and scanning through...something. "Didn't I leave you in a broom closet?" he said a little breathlessly, grip tightening on the weapon.

YELENA BELOVA: Was she mad? Yes. At Bucky and Natasha? No. At S.H.I.EL.D.? Of course. At Zemo, at the situation. Yelena had been pissed when she came to in a broom closet, tossed to the side like a basic cleaning supply. She remembered Astrid Massey, but her face wasn’t her own. Bullseye had met her in the hallway. He had given her the device Zemo was passing around to his teammates, the disrupter returning her to her former form. As Benjamin headed down the  hallway to meet the ‘heroes’, Yelena moved to the ICU and found the Database. The codes were already unlocked from whatever doctor had run away mid scan from the intruders, and when the door opened Yelena glanced back over her shoulder. “Seemed more fun out here. I saw Taskmaster downstairs, but this was a better opportunity. They never let me up here. Now I know why.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Natasha is handling it.” Bucky remarked, lowering his weapon just a little bit. “I know what you’re doing, and it sucks to say this, but it isn’t helping. We can handle the database later, we need to deal with Ripley now.” he spoke pointedly at her, knowing that any form of coddling or soft spoken words didn’t apply here. Not that it ever did. Bucky could never imagine babying Yelena in any situation. “Just trust me on this.”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian quickly grabbed onto Magik and Nico, not wasting any time as she phased the three of them past Bullseye and through to Ripley’s hospital room.

LAURA KINNEY: At his comment, the arch of a brow broke Laura’s deadpan. “Debatable taste.” She commented offhandedly. At the sight of Bullseye she crouched, lunging towards him without claws. Kwannon could follow Viv and the spellcasters. Laura had no problem being a distraction.

YELENA BELOVA: “Natasha is getting her ass handed to her. Again.” The sisters had a messy history with Taskmaster. She hit a key and the code flashed red, the page turning to a simple box for an access code. “We have to shut down the Database.” Yelena straightened up to look at him, her own gun holstered. “We can’t let them do this anymore.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky worked through the tic in his jaw, leveling his voice. By now, his nerves were frayed. “Do you Yelena?” he lowered the gun even more until the barrel was pointed at the floor. “Do you trust me?”

YELENA BELOVA: For a long moment, she just stared. Did she? It wasn’t easily answered. “I want to.” Yelena replied honestly. A finger hovered above the key before she moved, body tightening and constricting as she fell.

BOBBI MORSE: Running behind due to having to disable to alarms on the floor, Bobbi skidded to a stop as she lowered her stun gun. “--She was going to hit the key, right?”

YELENA BELOVA: “Fuck. You.” Yelena hissed from the ground, fingers digging into the tile as she tried to pull herself up. She wasn’t going to hit the key.

BUCKY BARNES: “Seriously?” he hissed, the metal plates clamping into place audibly as he tightened his grip. “Seriously, Bobbi?” he was pissed, clearly. “No wonder you’re a fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” Bucky snatched the stun gun from Bobbi’s grip on his way past her, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it until it was in a bunch of little pieces before he finished his walk to Yelena. “She wasn’t going to hit the fucking key.” he crouched down, helping Yelena back to her feet. “What’s next? You want to hit Ripley too? Do you more good.”

BOBBI MORSE: “Oh, c’mon.” Bobbi muttered as she had the stun gun ripped away and trampled. It wasn’t like that would have been helpful for defense or anything. “Tell me she’s not a flight risk.” Dark eyes narrowed. “I’d love to hit Ripley. Hopefully wake her up. That goddamn stone is fragmenting and destabilizing the town. If it collapses we all may be written out off reality. No happy reunion with your girlfriend then, huh?”

YELENA BELOVA: Yelena just spit towards Bobbi’s feet as James help her up, holding on to his arm even when she was upright.

BUCKY BARNES: “You think you’re the one to call that?” he shot over his shoulder, fully standing now. “Being written out of reality wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me this year.” he turned his attention to Yelena, looking her over but he didn’t ask her if she were okay. “You make an awful nurse, you know that?”

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Phasing in along with Viv and Nico, Illyana stepped around the broken black shards of a weapon. “Now this is where the party is.” She laughed slightly. Making her way to the bed, dark lined eyes narrowed at the woman. Tugging the hospital gown to the side, the red glow of the Stone was flickering under the white bandages. “They said you would have another fragment. We need two.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I think I’m deepest in the shit and have used the Database before, so I made a snap judgement call. It’s not like I shot her. We talked it out.” Bobbi didn’t flinch at the spit. “Maybe not for you, but there’s a lot of other people here.”

YELENA BELOVA: “Nursing student.” Yelena muttered. “The scrubs were ugly.”

RIRI WILLIAMS: She had smashed in the window of the wrong room during her entry, but Riri found the right one after checking for heat signatures. “You have a second fragment now.” The suit’s chamber opened to expose the Reality Stone shard. “Zemo’s got the third.”

BUCKY BARNES: “They were pretty ugly.” he agreed quietly, face pinched lightly at the edges. His head whipped sharply around at Riri’s entrance, completely ignoring Bobbi at this point. “So we go get Zemo.” he took a breath. “Finally.”

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: As the armored teen guided the Stone back to its host, Magik looked to Nico. “Are you ready?” It wasn’t really a question. With eyes glowing blue, she held a hand out over the chest of Ripley. “I’m going to be very unhappy if she chooses to smite us.”

NICO MINORU: Nico looked down at the incubated woman, trying her best not to be intimidated by the thought of all that could go wrong as she adjusted her grip on her staff and nodded. She looked towards Riri as she entered the room and smiled in relief at the sight of another stone. “Okay, yeah. Ready.” She agreed as she gripped her staff and held her other hand over Ripley to follow Magik. “Stabilize.” The staff emitted a glow as she focused herself onto the spell.

YELENA BELOVA: “Jim. What a nice young man.” Yelena scoffed. She paused, softening slightly as she turned to face Bucky fully. “Thank you.” Her tone was composed of genuine relief. Rising up to reach his face, Yelena pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do trust you.”

BOBBI MORSE: Determined to focus on the spell, Bobbi’s face twitched at Yelena and Bucky. Worse than high schoolers.

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: Drawing on Limbo, Illyana closed her eyes when she heard Nico’s staff and began chanting. Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormammu limbo ex angulis eminebant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. As she repeated Wanda’s words, the red began to glow and overtake the room. It burned so brightly that it overtook the space and ate everything else out entirely.

BUCKY BARNES: With his ungloved hand, bucky cupped the side of Yelena’s face. “I know.” he heard Illyana and Nico behind him but he didn’t look. He had a gut feeling where this was going and he was just…relieved to see Yelena again. It tugged somewhere deep in his chest, making him oddly angry all over again. He was exhausted, frustrated, but relieved. “Also, please don’t ever mention Jim again.” he said on what sounded like a breathy laugh. “C’mere.” Even though they didn’t do this, Bucky pulled Yelena in close, arms wrapping around her small frame.

NICO MINORU: Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormanmu limbo ex angulis emine ant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. Nico repeated alongside Magik, closing her eyes as the red glow overtook the entire room. Based on that, she hoped it was working. And she also hoped that they wouldn’t kill Ripley in the process.

YELENA BELOVA: Folding into him, Yelena stared at the two spellcasters. She hated magic. She hated how small it made her feel. She didn’t like Ripley either, but they all deserved better than this. “He was a victim too, at first.” The light was too bright then and Yelena had no choice but to avert her eyes.

RIPLEY RYAN: Every memory. Every life. Every backstory. The Town Database was comprehensive and the woman whose energy fueled it remembered every detail. For the first time since they had managed to restrain her, the stirrings of magic gave way to an elevated form of consciousness. Eyes and mouth open, red poured from them until reality was rattled by a burst of energy. Across the town, those left reverted to how they had looked before being changed. Faces returned and scarlet gave way to familiar bodies and clothes. When the wave washed over the hospital, it faded to reveal a blonde in a hospital gown standing in front of the mangled computer system. “I’m going to kill someone.”

LAURA KINNEY: The fight with Bullseye had ended, but Laura followed the scent of blood towards where the Black Widow and Taskmaster had fought. Natasha was fine, her adversary fleeing towards Zemo and the Town hall. When the redhead said she would follow him, Laura had left her to get to the ICU. Without her claws the fight had been a little different than she preferred, but not all of the blood on her was her own. By the time she got there, the room was awash in red. The force of the energy impact threw Laura against the wall, but when she straightened and came to, her cheerleading uniform was gone. The yellow and blue of her Wolverine suit had returned and when she flexed her hands she felt the adamantium.

BOBBI MORSE: Ripley looked mad, but Bobbi couldn’t blame her. She had every right to be. “That’s valid.” She limbed to her feet. “But can we raincheck? Your Stone -- it fractured. From what was being done. We got you a piece on it, but Zemo has a shard at Town Hall. Do I need to tell you how badly this could go?”

RIPLEY RYAN: Of course she didn’t need to. Ripley could feel Pleasant Hill destabilizing and reality growing thin. It Zemo accomplished his goals, he’d be taking her down. It was hard to live with a stone in your chest. it would be impossible to be fragmented. Even then, she could feel the other part calling out. Raising a hand, Ripley looked at the group. TOWN HALL. With that, the hospital was empty as they vanished in a flash of crimson.

[cilldaracailin]

Killer Queen

Hello my Tumblr lovely’s!

Who is ready for some more! It’s a good one if I do say so myself! ;) Hope you all enjoy!

Suze xx

6

“One of the most important things you can do on this earth is to let people know they are not alone.”

Robyn had left Taron just after four and it gave him some time to catch up with Lyndsey, quickly explaining to her about his little fan meet on the beach. While on the phone with him, his publicist did a quick scour of the usual social media outlets and as predicted the fan picture had appeared on social media but not received the backlash he thought it was going too and his posting of the Instagram picture had appeased most, though Lyndsey felt the need now to warn Taron that his visits to Ireland might not be completely media free as before, Taron’s whole body slumping onto the duvet in the tent as he listened, returning his answer with heated tones.

“I just need to give you the heads-up Taron, you know this. Don’t get crabby with me.”

“Sorry Lyndsey.”

“Look I know you want to protect her.”

“It’s more than that.” Interrupted Taron.

“And Robyn had proven herself very capable of dealing with the media Taron.”

“But it’s so different when it will involve her home.”

“And it won’t come to that and Taron, you know some reporters already have been at her home back in September and it was fine.”

Taron sighed heavily, rubbing his tired eyes. “Sorry Lyndsey.”

“Don’t be sorry. I know you love her and have this undeniable urge to defend her and watch over her but it’s not always possible Taron and at some point, you are going to have to accept that, especially if you keep inviting her to your events. It is going to get people talking as you bring her into the public eye more. If you want to protect her, you will have to leave her at home but if you want her by your side, now or in the future as something more, you will have to be ready to completely let her into your world.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry to me Taron.” Laughed Lyndsey. “Robyn has without a doubt gotten under your skin and believe me, I think the world of her and you know that.”

“I do.”

“Then trust me.”

“I do.”

Lyndsey smiled into the phone. She had worked with Taron for so long, she could read every emotion he was feeling from just the tone of his voice and his reactions and knew immediately he had a bad night’s sleep. “You are tired. I need to you to sleep tonight for me.”

“I will.”

“Taron…”

“I will Lyndsey and sorry again. It just rattled me. It’s not something I expected and wasn’t prepared for the photo.”

“And you dealt with it as you always do, with a cool and level head. You trust Robyn?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s just wait and see Taron. Normally stuff like this either blows up or floats around before it dies out. I am sure the premier will have more of a reaction than anything and before you say it, sure your picture and visit to Ireland will more than likely be a question asked of you while on promotion but you know how to answer these questions Taron and you know I have left it up to you as to how you want to do so. Robyn is a firm fixture in your life and most people understand it is because she saved your life and you don’t have to make excuses for that Taron. You should never make excuses for that.”

Taron nodded to himself. “Thanks Lyndsey. Sometimes I forget that part.”

Lyndsey rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that shit Taron. You can’t bullshit me.” She heard him laugh a little. “I want you to stop over thinking, go and enjoy Robyn’s show tonight and then sleep, as best you can and I will see you bright and early at the Radio One studio on Sunday.”

“Sure.”

“And get as many hugs in as you can and remember them because as far as I can tell, Robyn’s hugs are the only thing that can calm you down lately.”

Taron chuckled. “I will try.”

“See you Sunday.”

“Thank you Lyndsey. Sorry for bugging you.”

“You don’t bug me Taron. Frustrate me at times but I know for a fact you do that to all the women in your life.” At last she heard a genuine chuckle from him. “Go and enjoy your last few hours of freedom.”

Taron ended the call and let his arm fall away from his ear, his phone falling from his hand and onto the soft duvet. As always, he let his worries over take him and once again it was another woman calming his fears. With Lyndsey’s promise to further double check everything for him, he found himself breathing a little easier and putting the thoughts of the photo to the back of his mind. Instead he focused on the evening to come and another chance to watch Robyn on stage in her element and he was just a little excited to see her in her stage gear once more but his face frowned as he remembered all the kisses from the night before but Robyn had promised him it wouldn’t happen again.

“And I am not jealous.” He said turning his head to look at the two dinosaurs who still sat together inside the tent as he had left them earlier. They both grinned back at him. “I am not.”

But his beating heart and rise in body temperature said otherwise. Taron rolled over into his stomach and let a muffled scream out into the pillow, his anxiety about the photo, his upcoming tour and his love for Robyn causing emotions and feelings he was finding so hard to cope with. He reached for his phone and pressing number one on his speed dial, groaned once more into the pillow.

“Hello love.”

“Hey mam.”

“Taron, love what’s wrong?” Tina could immediately hear the deflation in her son’s voice.

“Mam I can’t do it anymore.”

“Do what love?”

“Robyn.”

Tina just about heard the whispered of the woman’s name who had wiggled her way into her son’s heart because his voice was laden with sadness. “Taron?” Tina listened to silence for a few seconds. “Taron, sweetheart?”

“It hurts too much to love her mam.” He turned his head sideways on the pillow. “Even more so because I can’t tell her because that fucker hurt her so badly she not only believes she doesn’t deserve to be loved but that it’s something that doesn’t exist and I can’t sit here anymore and not tell her that I love her because it is what she deserves and she needs to know that love is wonderful and thrilling and she is most definitely worthy of it and I want to be the one to love her. I need to be the one.”

“Ok Taron you need to slow down, stop speaking in riddles and start from the beginning.”

With a rush of words and long sentences, Taron burdened his mother with his worries and woes, once starting to speak, finding it hard to stop until he had managed to get everything off his chest, including the fact that he was actually very jealous of the stage kisses.

“Mam why are you laughing?”

“Taron this is what love is, what it does to you and I know you love her.”

“And you still stand by your advice of not telling her?”

“Yes.”

“Mam!” He groaned.

“Yes Taron I still do even more so after what that fucker as you call him did to her.”

“That was actually Robyn’s mam’s words, not mine.”

“I really need to get Robyn’s mam’s number. I would like to have a chat with her at some point.”

“Mam don’t change the subject.”

“You told me when you met Robyn, she wouldn’t let you in and it took a lot of trust for her to open up to you and it was a man who betrayed her trust Taron. The fact that she has let you in speaks volumes for how she feels about you.”

“I wish she would just tell me.”

“Women don’t think like men do.”

“Well I know that mam.”

“And I don’t just mean thinking with certain body parts.”

“Ugh mam seriously?”

“Well Taron you went into some detail about that kiss and a pair of short purple shorts so I am just returning with the information you have given me.”

“Maybe I should talk to Guy.”

“Taron, Robyn has been badly hurt in the past and I know you know that but because it was a man who did it, she will be very guarded when it comes to a new man in her life. She will be scared to let one in, to actually admit she loves one even if that one is you Taron. She won’t open her heart to someone for fear it will be broken again. A woman’s heart is a very delicate thing, especially a torn one.”

“Mam I know she loves me.”

“And I am sure she does but Robyn has to realise it for herself.”

“Her kiss made it pretty clear.”

“And that was a kiss from a bet. There is a difference I am sure between a kiss from a bet and a kiss she wants to give you of her own accord.”

“But it was a kiss.”

“Sweetheart, women are complicated.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.” Taron rolled over into his side. “I just don’t know how much longer I can wait to tell her.”

“As long as it takes Robyn to tell you. You want to protect her and show her that you love her than keep doing all the wonderful things you have been doing for her. She will come around Taron.”

“It’s so hard mam.”

Tina felt for her son. “Is she worth it?” She asked. “Is she worth the traveling and the tiredness and the longing that you have worth it for one hug, or one cuddle you get from her?”

“Of course.”

“Then you will wait Taron. I know you chose your career for your love of acting Taron and I don’t hold your choice against you and you know how proud me and your step-dad and your dad are of you but for a woman to step into your world, you are asking a lot. However, Robyn has taken it all in her stride and is joining you for your premier, one which will be filled with press from around the world, live TV coverage and more publicity than Robyn will have ever faced. I think it’s clear she loves you if she is willing to do that for you. Also, she cooked for you and baked. She definitely loves you Taron but please try and be patient with her. If you rush her, you could trigger some of those feelings of rejection she still has in the back her mind.”

“I don’t want that to happen.”

“Love is hard Taron. No one said it was easy.”

Taron sighed. “If it was easy it wouldn’t be real.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true. Just keep doing what you are doing love. Robyn has a beautiful heart and you know I adore her and how she looks after you but you keep doing these little things for her and soon, she will come to her senses.”

“How long…”

“As long as it takes her Taron.”

“Thanks mam.”

“Anytime love. You are not going to blurt it out this evening?”

“No mam.”

“Even after you see her dressed in leather.”

“Mam!” Taron’s scoff turned to a light laughter. “Though I have seen her in a towel.”

“Taron David Egerton!”

Taron chuckled at his mam’s scolding. “And she has seen me in one too.”

“Taron!”

“I love you mam.”

“Yeah and I love you. Be gentle with her heart ok? Like I said, it’s been torn before and still a bit brittle.”

“I will mam.”

“Taron, I truly believe you can heal it for her. Just give her the time to figure that out.”

“Thank you mam.”

“Ring me tomorrow when you get back to your flat ok?”

“I will do.”

“And tell Robyn I said hello.”

“I will.”

With a heavy sigh, Taron dropped his phone onto the pillow in front of his face. He trusted his mam’s advice and judgement more than anyone’s and although it was not what he wanted to hear; he knew she was right. Robyn had been treated horribly before and he knew himself she was guarded but when it came down to him, he also knew she trusted him and he would do nothing to break that trust but taking his mam’s guidance, he knew but hated that he would have to wait for Robyn to figure out that she loved him as much as he loved her.

After a nap, he hadn’t realised he had taken until he woke up, Taron quickly showered and changed, pulling his black hat onto his head again and made the quick ten-minute walk to the hall with five minutes to spare before the performance started. Robyn’s little head massage had helped to ease a niggling headache he had felt earlier, knowing it was from lack of sleep but the two paracetamol he had routed out from her drawer had lifted it completely and as he sat on the inside edge of the row four, he kept his hat on his head and his eyes on the programme, one that he bought from Jane on the way into the hall, ignoring the smirk on her face.

With his closeness to the stage and his second time watching the show, he noticed things he hadn’t before, including how tight Robyn’s stage outfits actually were and her facial expressions as she sang and danced and the wink she definitely threw his way before she slid down the fire pole and he chuckled as she smoothly slid down the pole with ease and grace.

The other thing he definitely noticed was the stage kiss between Robyn and Cathal just before the first act ended and he was sitting up in his chair, the programme twisted in his hands again as Cathal grabbed Robyn by her hips and pulled her tight against him and kissed her hard. What upset Taron the most was that he could see Robyn place her hands on her co-stars chest to push him away from her and the flicker of anger in her eyes before she put her arms around him and turned them around so her back was to the audience, Cathal’s face going straight into her neck. Taron glared at him, hearing his teeth grind and a very quiet growl come from deep within him. Robyn had told him that she had spoken to Cathal and he had been warned not to kiss or touch her and he had clearly leaped over boundaries once again and Taron was fuming as he sat, putting his hat back on his head as the house lights came back on.

He saw Jane walking towards him, selling raffle tickets and he motioned towards her.

“Hey you.”

“Is there any way I can talk to Robyn?” He asked quickly trying to keep his voice steady.

“To Robyn?” Jane asked.

“Yeah. Any chance?”

“Well I am not too sure. The cast have about fifteen minutes to catch their breath and change before they are back on stage.”

“Please Jane.”

She looked to him and sighed. “Come with me.”

Taron stood up and dropped his programme on the chair and followed Jane out through the main doors of the hall and around the front of the building and then through a side gate. They walked down a narrow pathway and out into a very small open garden with a picnic bench on which Robyn was sitting her head in her hands. Taron mouthed thank you to Jane and quickly walked over to stand in front of Robyn.

“You need a squishy hug?”

Robyn looked up in surprise to see Taron standing in front of her and without a word, jumped down from the picnic table and into his open arms, snuggling deep into his warmth, feeling his arms hug her tightly.

Before the show started and once she was dressed and ready to go, she had spoken to Cathal about the stage kisses and he assured her he wouldn’t try anything but he broke his promise just before the first act ended and their kiss after their duet was hard and fast and horribly wet and Robyn had tried to push Cathal away but he only pulled her disgustingly firm against him but somehow she managed to break their kiss, push him on his chest hard and turned their closeness into a hug, Cathal’s face immediately going straight to her neck, into where Taron always nestled his face so closely and Cathal’s hot breathe on her neck made her skin crawl and a cold shiver run right through her.

Once the stage went dark, Robyn shoved Cathal away from her, lifted her knee and aimed hard for his crotch before she ran down the steps ignoring all her cast mates who called her name and stormed outside, taking to pacing up and down the small garden before taking a seat on the picnic bench, her head in her hands. She was thoroughly frustrated. She hated being taken advantage of and had already been in a position like that with Keith and she had worked so hard to get over him and how he treated her and she could slowly feel her insecurities creeping back in as Cathal made her feel as small as a mouse. Keith often used his physical strength against her and Cathal was doing the same and Robyn hated feeling not in control.

She was running shaking hands down her face when Taron’s voice filled her ear and there he was standing in front of her, his arms open for a hug and she didn’t need to be asked twice if she wanted a hug. She was desperate for comfort that only Taron could give her and he did it with his wonderfully strong arms, warm chest and beating heart.

“Breath darling.” Taron whispered into her curly hair. “Take a breath.”

“I am going to murder someone by the end of tonight.”

Taron chuckled into her hair. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Robyn snuggled more into his shoulder and allowed herself to sink into him, feeling his hands rub up and down her back, the material of the cropped top moving so eventually his hands met with the heated skin of her back. He rested his hands flat on her lower back, his thumbs grazing softly back and forth over the dip in her skin above her skirt.

“Hey Robyn, we need to get that costume change going. Oh sorry!” Dee had walked out to once again locate one of the female leads of the musical to get her ready for the second act but she was wrapped up in a cosy looking cuddle in the arms of man who had appeared from nowhere. “I will give you a second.”

“Thanks Dee. I will be there in two.”

Robyn ran her hands in circles around Taron’s back before gripping his long sleeved stripped t-shirt in her hands. “Thank you.” She murmured into his t-shirt.

“You ok?”

“Not really.” Robyn felt how Taron’s whole body froze for the briefest second before he resumed his back rub for her. “But I will be.”

“I am going to have a word with him.”

Robyn pulled herself from Taron immediately but her hands were still wrapped around his back. “No you won’t.”

“Robyn he cannot fucking do that do you. It’s disgusting and almost harassment and I won’t have anybody do that to you.”

“True but you won’t go near Cathal.”

“Robyn…”

She placed her hands on his cheeks. “He is already going to find it hard to walk straight for a while. He doesn’t need any words.”

Taron grinned under her hands. “Stiletto?”

“Knee.”

Taron winced but moved to place a soothing kiss on her head. “Good girl.”

“I told him yesterday it was going to happen if he tried to kiss me again.” She felt her hands being taken, as Taron took them from his cheeks. “You can understand somewhat because like me you still get flashbacks of Florida but sometimes I get some from Keith and unfortunately unwanted kisses are part of them.”

“Robyn…”

“Not ours.” She confirmed immediately.  “But the force of what Cathal does is uncomfortable and unprofessional.”

The Welshman immediately engulfed her in another hug, desperately wanting to show Robyn what a kiss should be but her little confession only further confirmed his talk with his mam earlier and Robyn was definitely more than a little brittle and now was not the time for a kiss so instead he hugged her so close to him.

“Thank you Taron.”

“I am always here for you Robyn. Always.” He was trying so hard to keep his cool, knowing the arsehole who was taking advantage of her was only a few footsteps away and while on the outside he was showing himself to cool and composed, inside he was seething.

“Ahem.”

Both turned to see Dee once more standing at the door.

“I am really sorry Robyn but we only have five minutes. I really need to get you changed.”

“I am coming Dee.”

Robyn let Taron go and took in his concerned eyes which were frantically searching hers. She lifted her hands and fixed his hat so it sat straight on his head. “I will be fine. I always am.” She assured him, moving forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. My knight in shining white and navy stripes and a black hat.” She half smiled. “Go and enjoy the rest of the show.”

“That bastard better not touch you.”

“Well he has to…”

“Out of script I mean.”

“Don’t charge the stage Taron.”

Her words made him grin a little. “He tries anything and you may have a new cast member.”

“Robyn!”

“I had better go.”

“I will wait for you at the end of the show.”

“You had better.”

Robyn turned away from him and walked quickly back into the backstage area and through the curtain for the female dressing area.

“You have three minutes.” Dee said holding a make-up brush while Laura was beside her with a hairbrush. “And he is beautiful.” Robyn didn’t answer her as she sat in the chair but she whole heartedly agreed with the make-up artist but Taron was more than beautiful. He was perfect. “Might need to hold off on the blush for the second act.”

“That was some hug Robyn. You get them often?” Asked Laura as she stood behind her and quickly fixed her hair.

“How did you see the hug?” Robyn asked her with her eyes closed as Dee topped up her eye shadow.

“We all saw it.”

“You all peaked out the door?”

“Naturally.”

“Jesus.”

“And we are all a little jealous of it.”

“He gives good hugs.” Robyn confirmed. “Everyone saw it then?”

“Everyone but Cathal and Jude.” Replied Laura.

“Jude is livid.” Dee explained as she fixed some smudged eye liner. “Pulled Cathal outside the hall to talk to him.”

“Steve would be stepping in if he was able.”

“Just my luck that he happened to break his hand.” Sighed Robyn.

“Your male friend, that’s Taron right?” Asked Laura as she sprayed Robyn’s hair, seeing the curls bounce as Robyn nodded. “He’s something else.”

“Yeah he is.”

“Ladies, we nearly done? We have about thirty seconds.” They heard Jude call in through the curtain.

“Go and get changed.” Said Dee as she let Robyn up from the chair. “And hey, Cathal really struggled into his leathers. We watched.”

Robyn moved over to the clothes rail and quickly stripped down and pulled on her dress for the opening scene of the second act, making sure it was straight, her heart racing. She had never known a man like Taron before who knew her so well, who knew what she needed and she desperately needed the hug and it seemed he did too and she also knew he was mad. She could see it in him even though he tried his best to keep his anger in, she could feel the tension in his body and she had never felt protected and loved more than right there and then.

“You have about five seconds to get on stage. Just go from stage left.” Jude met her as she came out from around the curtain. “I am sorry I can’t replace him Robyn.”

“It’s ok.” She said as she walked past him and to the side of the stage.

“No it’s not. I have spoken to him and he knows.”

“We haven’t a chance of the AIMs award.”

“We have every chance. Now go and kill it like you always do.”

Robyn nodded, her eyes going to Taron as he sat back in his seat. She had been able to see him the whole show and when she thought it would have made her nervous, it was the opposite and knowing he was there only made her want to perform perfectly and hit every note and give the best performance she could managed because Taron had travelled to see her and support her. With a long breathe she skipped on stage a little later than normal, turning her focus on being Mimi, looking Cathal in his eyes, showing him that she was not taking any of his shit.

As Taron sat back in his seat, he was still furious and once more the programme was twisted in hands. He was so glad he had been able to see Robyn in between the two acts, thankful he could be there to give her some comfort but he was pissed off and his anger stull bubbled under his skin, even more so when he learnt that Keith had taken advantage of Robyn through one of the most intimate gestures a man can get from a woman. A kiss.

“Fucker.” He muttered under his breath as the house lights dimmed and the music for the second act started to play. Robyn took the stage a little later than the night before, going straight into her song and Taron could see her standing straight and keeping directly in character with Cathal. He didn’t understand how she could do it but like he was a professional actor knowing where his responsibilities lay so did Robyn and she showed that by her perfect performance.

He was on his feet cheering and wolf-whistling before anyone else in the hall and he didn’t care. It was what he had wanted to do last night but because he was keeping a low profile, he couldn’t but now that Robyn knew he was here, once the house lights went up before the cast took their bow and sang their final song, he was clapping hard. His standing ovation spurred everyone else in the hall to get to their feet too and when Robyn ran on stage to take her bow, Taron whooped and called even louder, seeing her laugh at him and she blew him a kiss and gave a curtesy.

He freely sang along as the cast took an encore of Seasons of Love and applauded until they had all left the stage. He side stepped from his chair, into the walkway to let the people sitting the row he was in to get out before he sat back in his seat. He was even more proud of Robyn compared to last night and as he sat on his chair, his joy for Robyn turned a little sad as he thought about how this time tomorrow, he would be back in London and up to his eyes in work. His flight was early the next morning and Robyn had promised to bring him to the airport as she always did but he wasn’t really looking forward to it. He never did enjoy saying goodbye but this weekend had been so special for him because he had been the one to spoil and treat Robyn and he loved doing it for her. He was so thankful it wouldn’t be another eight weeks or so before he saw her again, only two weeks until they hopefully would see each other for dinner in Paris.

“So, was it better the second time round?”

Jane walking over to him broke his thoughts. “Absolutely. Thank you again for getting me to her.”

“You are more than welcome.”

“Guess I really owe you that signed photo now.” He smiled as Jane blushed.

“Robyn told you about that then?”

“She tells me things.”

“I am sure she does.” Jane nodded. “It was nice to see you again Taron and that little smile. Good luck with your tour.”

“Thanks Jane.”

“I’d imagine she will be out quicker tonight. You can go and wait at the curtain if you want.”

“I think I will do that.”

Taron got to his feet, slipped on his coat and made his way over to where the curtain separated front of house from backstage and stood waiting patiently for Robyn to come out. He was looking forward to going back to hers, letting her shower and although he didn’t have any more surprises for her, he just wanted to give her the longest cuddle as they lay in the tent.

“I told you I have nothing to say to you. Just piss off Cathal.”

On hearing her heated tones, Taron ignored the shouts of entry refusal from the people at the curtain and barged straight through the black material into the private backstage area of the cast members, seeing Robyn and Cathal in a stand-off, some space between them. He briskly walked to Robyn and stood in front her, his back right against her chest.

“She said piss off, loud and clear.”

Robyn was more than relieved that Cathal had played the part of Roger as he was supposed to play it during the second act and didn’t even attempt to try anything and any kisses they shared were simple stage kisses and nothing more. Once their final bow was taken, she was the first off stage and into the dressing area, pulling her tattered dress over her head and hanging it on the hanger before she pulled on her jeans and Taron’s Hawaiian shirt. She had worn it to rehearsal, needing to feel a comfort and security from having a piece of him with her and after she had buttoned the middle buttons, tied the bottom ends of the shirt in a knot, so it sat on the waistband of her jeans. She was more than ready to say goodnight and go home, shower and change into her wonderful cosy dolphin PJ’s and another piece of Taron’s clothing, sit in her tent and eat the cupcakes Taron brought her yesterday and just be in her own home with him. As she grabbed her bag and coat, she said a quick goodnight to her other cast mates and director and made her way towards the curtain but she was stopped by Cathal who pulled on her hand, Robyn dropping it like it was a hot coal.

She was about to tell him to leave her alone again when Taron suddenly appeared and stood in front of her, saying it for her, his arms moving out a little so Robyn couldn’t get by him.

“I just wanted to talk to her.” Cathal frowned at the presence of the new man in front of him, blocking his view of Robyn from him.

“I don’t think she has anything she wants to say to you.” Taron replied, trying to keep his temper at bay.

“Look I just want to apologise to her.”

“And I really don’t think it’s good enough.”

“Taron…” Robyn placed her hand on his right wrist.

“You really have nothing to do with this.” Cathal said as he took a step closer to Taron. “You are not her boyfriend.”

“And neither are you.” The Welshman returned. “But I am a man who has respect for women and you clearly don’t. Touch her again and…”

“And what? Is that a threat?”

Taron laughed. “No mate, I don’t need to threaten you. Not when Robyn can do that all her own. How’s the prince jewels feeling?” He asked with a half grin. “Lucky it wasn’t her heel that made its mark.”

There was a titter of giggles from around the cast members as they stood watching the confrontation.

“I don’t need to be her boyfriend to show her respect. It’s what a man does but clearly you are not a man but a boy, taking advantage of a situation because you know otherwise you have no chance. She is much too good for you anyway.”

Taron had learnt his lesson from New Year’s Eve and with the training from Kingsman still fresh in his mind not too mention that still bubbling anger, he quickly dodged the oncoming punch that made its way to him, grabbing Robyn and pulling him with her as he side stepped to the right, Cathal falling over onto the floor in heap as he over balanced when his fist met with blank air.

“You never stood a chance. Tosspot. You ready to go Robyn?”

“Definitely.”

Robyn said a quick goodbye to her friends, not even apologising for Taron’s sudden appearance and keeping his hand in hers, led him out from the backstage area and out of the hall into the fresh night air.

“You are really following through with this knight in shining armour thing, aren’t you?” She asked him.

“I heard you tell him to piss off and I kinda saw red. I wasn’t going to let him even speak to you after what he did earlier and we are going the wrong way.” Taron turned his head as Robyn led him away from the bridge that brought them towards her house.

“I feel like a spice bag.”

“What on earth is a spice bag?”

[barbariccia]

X57: Bring Down The Sky

ok, i lied. there’s one last thing for me to get through in mass effect 1 - the BDtS dlc, which i’ve never played through before. it’s relatively short and available for free if you play on pc - included with the base game on origin, and can be downloaded on ea’s website for steam.

who wants some Additional Plot all crammed into one long post?!

in true ME style, you’re thrown directly into the action. once you enter the area this mission takes place on via the galaxy map, you’re shown a familiar looking world... and an asteroid slowly approaching.

and we’re dumped onto the asteroid itself in the mako.

it’s pretty easy to see the objective even if you weren’t paying attention to the distress call.

three giant fusion torches are propelling the asteroid at great speed toward a looming planet that looks rather earth-like, though we’re not in the local cluster at all. this is terra nova of the exodus cluster, one of the first planets colonised by humans after they discovered the mass relays and what lay beyond, and the second “extrasolar colony”, the first being no other than elysium, which we’ve heard about before.

there’re bases around the three tourches, all armed with heavy turrets, easy enough to dispatch of via the mako’s own gun, and once we make it inside the first base, we’re treated with a... rather unusual sight.

these charming fellows are batarians, outlaws and pirates for the most part, and while not seen in the base game, they go on to be the face of space-orcs, in a sense. vicious and seemingly war-hungry, they’re directly responsible for a ruthless shepard’s background, who was stationed on torfan and lived through their assault, the only person of their troop to do so.

we clear them and their varren out easily enough, and disable the first torch at a panel upstairs.

read the subtitles, shepard.

the communication line she’s using goes dead. on our way out...

we meet a man, who shoots and immediately panics when he sees the chest he attacked belongs to a human. eh, i’ve had worse.

this is simon, the chief engineer. he’s worried, of course - we’re heading right toward terra nova, where there are four million people living. not ideal.

well, that’s just fucking dandy, then.

Simon: It would be like millions of fusion bombs striking at once. Millions. The heat of the blast... a thousand kilmoeters away, clothes will ignite. There’ll be global wildfires. Air shock will flatten everything for hundreds of kilometers. Terra Nova will die, Shepard. Not just our colony - the planet. There’ll be a climate shift. Mass extinctions. The ecosystem won’t recover for thousands of years. Millions, maybe.

Shepard: Any chance it’ll land in the oceans?

Simon: That would be even worse! Tsunamis would sweep inland at hundreds of kilometers per hour. Millions of tonnes of water would be vaporized at the point of impact. Global cloud coverage. The plants could all die. And if they go, the whole ecosystem rolls over. I-- I’d have to run the numbers, but take my word for it: it’d be bad.

traditional mol nerd notes, since i was a dinosaur kid: the idea of the asteroid that decimated the dinosaurs (and began one of the 5th largest mass extinction events in eath’s history) was only first proposed in 1980, which is way more recent than i thought it was. the asteroid itself is thought to have landed in the area of chicxulub, mexico, and the collision itself is considered to have released around 100 teratonnes of TNT -equivalent in energy. so big boom. as of 2019, dr sean gulick has done research ⁽¹⁾, ⁽²⁾ on the crater itself and the rock record of the impact, and doctorial student robert depalma (and coauthor professor phillip manning) has excavated the Tanis area of Hell Creek ⁽³⁾ amd published a paper on the findings of deposits in the area ⁽⁴⁾, though the latter has been criticised for being potentially sensationalist, having been published by media outlets before it was accepted at PNAS.

either way, it’s commonly accepted that the impact would have thrown enough dust into the atmosphere to have caused an impact winter for up to a year, which was likely exacerbated by vaporised rocks in the atmosphere that helped to reduce sunlight reaching the surface, and causing acid rain. this in turn likely led to the oceans cooling and becoming more acidic. if wildfires were also on the menu, it would have contributed to a greenhouse effect.

whatever happened, the impact led to about 75% of all species on earth becoming completely extinct, so terra nova’s not looking especially peachy with twice the damage incoming.

tl;dr yeah seems pretty spot on

this comes out when you select the renegade’s “damn aliens” response, which is pretty incredible. even as shepard you have the option to be xenophobic... but batarians really haven’t proven themselves to be much more than as aggressive as krogans, honestly, if not worse, somehow. for a non-ruthless shepard to think this way... yeesh. goes to show just how much the attack on elysium affected the human psyche, even if you’re happy enough to bring aboard most other kinds of aliens aboard your stealth cruiser.

well, let’s get on our merry way. simon tells us that one of the torches is surrounded by proximity mines, which were going to be used as excavation tools once the asteroid was brought to terra nova - where it was en route toward anyway, by design - so we have to be extra careful going over them. yay.

never change, shep.

he also tells us that he had a crew working on the asteroid when the batarians hit. it’s easy enough to find them... or what’s left of them, once the batarians were through with them.

they’re, naturally, spread around the asteroid.

the message is cut off by the sound of an explosion.

and as for the third...

all three are very, very dead. but hey, on the way we at least got to turn on the transmission tower once again.

party on, dudes.

after you turn off the second torch, kate contacts you again.

we get the chance to see what’s going on with kate. there’s a man with her, and a small group of batarians that have them cornered.

spoiler: he doesn’t make it.

no time like the present to go turn that third and final torch off. after we do, there’s a small group of aliens waiting for us.

we have a little chat with our new friend, who tells us that he knows he’s in way over his head. another batarian by the name of balak is running the show, and “what balak wants, balak gets”.

[Renegade choice: Don’t be stupid.]

Shepard: Spoken like a true lackey. You get me out of here and I’ll take care of Balak. Or you can take your chances with me.

Charn: An, uh, interesting proposal. It certainly has benefits over the current situation. (to another batarian) Shut it down. This is Balak’s problem now.

he gives us a keycard, tells us where to find the boss, and scarpers. balak’s elsewhere, in a different facility, also guarded by turrets.

in case you don’t want to look at your map, the red gives it away. why’s it red? who cares!

there’s a hell of a shootout waiting for us in the final facility, but once we’ve cleared the area of what feels like every batarian ever conceived, balak himself deigns to come show his face.

Balak: I’m leaving this asteroid. If you try to stop me, I’ll detonate these charges and your helper and her friends are all going to die.

Shepard: You don’t get to leave, Balak. Not after what you’ve done.

Balak: What I’ve done? This is nothing compared to what’s been done to the batarians. We’ve been forced into exile. Forced to survive on what we can scrounge up. It’s been like that for decades.

Shepard: Why take it out on these people? They didn’t do anything to you or your race.

Balak: Didn’t do anything? Aside from colonizing a world that could have been ours? Aside from using resources that should have been ours? We were left to defend ourselves. But the humans were stronger than us. We knew that. The Council knew that. But it didn’t matter.

Balak: It was you. You and your kind are the only reason we’re in this position.

Shepard: How does killing innocent people make up for that?

Balak: We had no other options. Sometimes you need to get someone’s attention before they’ll listen.

Shepard: Is that was Elysium was? A way to get our attention? Well, you got it. And when we responded you ran like cowards. Now you want to start it all over again.

Balak: You couldn’t possibly understand... Actually, you just don’t want to understand. And I’m done wasting my breath.

the choice is, once again, in your hands. that’s a very interesting dialogue they have before this... and one i can understand both sides of. it’s worth noting that originally the batarians were welcomed into citadel space, but their aggression provoked more than one crisis intergalactically. their exile from the council is recent- they weren’t happy with humans colonising in areas that batarians already considered claimed (this is the skyllian verge and elysium, for those keeping track), and when they were told no by the council, they closed their embassy, severed all relations, and became a rogue state, retreating back to their own systems and becoming known primarily as pirates and slavers within the terminus systems, outside of citadel space. those in the terminus systems are actively rebelling against their own government, too, who prefer to stay in their space.

i don’t want to use the word self-imposed exile, but from the human’s point of view it’s very much a throwing your toys out of the pram because you can’t get what you want act. then again, from the batarian point of view, why should they stick with a council that doesn’t seem to consider them as on equal footing enough to grant them rights to colonise the land as they claim it?

i chose to let balak go, and save the hostages. we’re stopping the asteroid either way, and death for death is... well. not ideal. if we’re throwing away our ideals and doing the whole eye for an eye thing we should have started a long time ago.

worth noting here that the base game offers a sidemission i remember me to colonist shepards, where you meet a survivor of mindoir, a colony that was raided by batarians ~13 years before game’s start, and is the colonist equivalent of the sole survivor mission dead scientists. after the colony was attacked, the surviving girl was taken by slavers, and the sidemission deals with you taking her down from a suicidal response to systems alliance soldiers finding and killing her batarian slavers. provided you talk her down, she resurfaces in a minor way in the next game, with an email thanking you for helping her. i think it’s a damn shame that this sidemission is only available to colonist shepard, because in no way is this an isolated view of the batarians and the things they’ve done and would have been a nice bit of additional flavour text for the rest of the game, considering batarians are only mentioned in passing once or twice (and in basegame only get a concept art picture by their codex entry, even).

(laughs in virmire)

you tell simon about the dead engineers you found, and let the hostages go.

she explains that the man the batarians killed was her brother, who convinced her to join the team in the first place. you get the chance to ask her a couple of questions, mostly about herself, but also...

Kate: I don’t even think they knew. When they first arrived, they were talking about getting us back to their ship. They wanted to sell us as slaved. When Balak showed up, everything changed. It was his idea to redirect the asteroid. Said it was the will of the batarian rebellion, whatever that is.

considering balak and his contingency are the outliers of their society... well, buddy, i hate to say it, but you don’t speak for the rest of your people. sure, tensions are high with humans... but they are with the turians, as well, and the turians didn’t throw a hissy and exile themselves and have their people considered the worst of the worst by even their government for the practises of a few.

eghhh. this is one of those surprisingly complicated situations. this isn’t the first time bioware discusses this concept - dragon age 2 comes to mind, and i’m sure i’ll get around to that as well sometime - but we’re not really given any way of viewing the batarians as anything other than an enemy in BDtS. we do see more batarians in the future, and that’s its own thing. we’ll revisit this later.

Bring Down The Sky, complete in around an hour. not bad for a (now) free dlc mission, but the stuff i’ve done here today won’t carry over to mass effect 2. turns out the last save i had on the normandy was actually just after feros; all my other save states were in the middle of something of on the citadel at the end of the game where there’s no way to get out and do something else. thankfully, not having completed the dlc doesn’t affect anything in the future too much, though i think i won’t be getting some me2 background commentary. not that i’d know what it was, having never done this content before.

ah well. upwards and onwards, crew!

[lavenderbones22]

Angel-  Ben Hardy

Summary: His girl is one of the hottest model's in the world and she's about to walk the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. Incredibly aroused, Ben must wait until the show's over before he can see her and show her how he truly feels.

Requested: 'yeaa i think tumblr did eat my request >;( i sent u a few days ago about a ben hardy smut ; his girlfriend is a Victoria Secret model and he's at a show & ya noe'

Word Count: 3548

A/N So sorry about the absence guys, hope this makes up for it! 

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

I finally felt like I was being recognised for all of my hard work over so many years. My career had indeed reached it pinnacle; this was it, my defining moment.

My diet though leading up to the big day was extremely restrictive. I certainly wasn't a stranger to intense diet and workout regimes but this was unlike anything I had done before.

I could take the food restrictions and the workouts three times a day but the restriction I and not to mention my boyfriend Ben, struggled with the most was the ban on sex a week prior to the show. I had no idea why it was, apparently it was something that had been set in place since the very first Victoria's Secret show ,so unwilling to create a stir, I nodded and accepted what had to be done.

Of course, breaking the news to Ben was another story as our sex life was above average I guess you could say. We had sex pretty much every day, sometimes more if we were feeling particularly frisky.

Needless to say, when one of us was away working things were pretty tough.

"You're joking!" His brows were raised so high on his forehead that I thought they were about to be launched into space.

I bit my lip nervously, shaking my head. "'fraid not," I responded.

"W-what!?" He tried to spit his words out. "W-why?"

I shrugged my shoulders, tying my hair into a bun on the top of my head. "It's just what they said." I informed him. "I didn't want to question it."

"I can't believe you didn't!"

"Ben I wasn't going to jeopardise anything just to ask why I can't have sex with my boyfriend for a week," I crossed my arms defensively over my chest, shifting my weight onto one hip. "This is my dream come true."

Ben sighed, feeling bad for catechising me. "Baby," his voice cooed, stepping closer and pulling me into him. "I didn't mean it like that."

I looked up at him and into his bright, green eyes. "Believe me when I say it's going to be as difficult for me as it is for you," I said quietly with a smirk.

"That's where you're wrong my love. I have to watch you strut around on that runway half naked," he kissed underneath my jawline, down along my neck. "I'm going to be hard the whole time," his words were muffled against the heat of my skin. "I just know it."

***

BEN'S POV

Today was the big day.

I didn't get to see my girl for long before the show. She was up at 5am. I was barely awake as she pecked me on the cheek and said she'd see me later on. I think there were soft calls of 'I love you' but whose to know.

I couldn't wait to see her. I'd gone for an all black suit with a sheer black shirt underneath that was her favourite. I couldn't wait for her to rip it all off of me later on.

Arriving at the venue, I was stopped a few times for quick interviews as well as chat's with friends of hers. We'd been together for three and a half years so I was definitely used to all of the attention she received but sometimes, and I knew that tonight was certainly going to be one, I struggled with it all; especially when it came from the men.

I never really considered myself a jealous guy. I wasn't quick to anger nor did I ever have a lack of trust in the partner's I'd chosen. But when you're faced with a situation where your girlfriend is the object of many men around the world's wildest fantasies; it makes you feel some kind of way. I'd come across posts online, heard people talking in public unaware of who I was and even had men say to my face how much they'd love to spend a night with my girl.

So no, I wasn't jealous. I just didn't put up with having my girlfriend spoken and written about like she was some sort of public possession.

Sat in the audience next to her mum and sister, I was beyond excited for the show to start. Not having to wait long, the lights went out and The Weeknd came out to open the show.

She was the fourth girl out and the breath got knocked out of my body the minute my eyes landed on her. She wore a black lacy thong that laced all the way up to her belly button, her D cup breasts looking phenomenal in a match lacy, black bra. A sparkled long sleeved top that cut off just above her breasts covered her; I'd never been so horny in my twenty eight years of existence.

"Fuck," I breathed out. Her mum, who I was sat next to, looked over at me smiley widely-proud.

"She's beautiful," she sighed happily as she grabbed my hand in hers. "You must be so proud of your girl!" Her eyes that were identical to her daughters looked at me, tears were brimming in them.

"I really am. You must be so proud of your girl too!" I said back to her, squeezing her hand in support. I got along with her family extremely well, they treated me like the son they never had.

"Like you wouldn't believe Ben!" She said before she got up on her feet, cheering out her girls name. I laughed, clapping and using my fingers to whistle loudly as she strutted to the end of the runway, smiled widely whilst doing a cute little pose and turned around walking back. On her way back The Weeknd held his hand out to her which she took and did a little twirl under. Fuck, she was adorable. I loved her more than anything, I was so fucking proud of my angel.

Once the show was over, we had to attend the after party. I knew she had to get changed for it since I'd sat around whilst she had many dress fittings. Whilst waiting on her I took in my surroundings. It was mostly media. So many of them. The coverage of this thing was crazy, I'd never seen anything like it.

The second I spotted her, my heart starting thumping heavily.

"Ben!" She squeaked, running up and wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me.

"You did so well baby," I spoke into her ear, pulling back and kissing her hard. "I'm so fucking proud of you." She was in a pink Victoria's Secret robe, looking exceptionally adorable.

"Thank you!" Her energy was palpable; she was like sunshine. She left my arms and went over to her mum and sister who had been chatting to a few people. Unfortunately they weren't able to attend the after party so it was just me and my girl. Not that I was complaining of course.

"I'm just going to get changed into my dress for the party," she told me with a quick peck to my lips. "Won't be long."

***

REGULAR POV

I was on such a high. The show was over, a total success, I hadn't fallen and I was free to finally have sex with my boyfriend.

I knew Ben was raring to go the second his skin touched mine, I could feel the heat and arousal flowing through him. I think if my mum and sister hadn't been standing right there he would have whispered multiple dirty things in my ear. I wished he had anyway.

I changed into a silver, floor length dress that was 90 percent see through. It had chains that went around my chest and my neck, my tits nearly falling out. But I felt a million dollars in it and I knew it would make Ben loose his mind.

He hadn't expected me when I wrapped my hands around his mid section from behind, my fingers crawling along his abs. He was looking tasty as fuck tonight. The bastard knew how much I loved that shirt on him.

"I'm back," I sung, kissing his back. He turned around so quick I nearly fell over, his strong hands grabbing my upper arms to steady me, while his eyes wandered my scantily clad body.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "Are you sure that's legal?" His green eyes, nearly black from his hugely dilated pupils, lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

I nodded, biting my bottom lip. "In most places..."

He cupped his jaw, rubbing his fingers along it, lost for words. "Erm...I...well, fuck!" He laughed. "You look so fucking gorgeous." His hands now both placed on my body, moved down to my lower hips, creeping down over my ass and cupping both cheeks. "I don't even care if we're in public," he exclaimed. "I'm so horny I can't even stand it!"

I giggled and pulled him into a kiss. "Two hours max babe, then we can go back to the hotel!" A frustrated sigh followed by a reluctant 'fine', Ben and I put our socialising faces on and headed off hand in hand into the crowded venue.

I hadn't intended to drink so much, have so many shots and give my boyfriend a blow job in the disabled toilets but hey, things happen!

We stumbled out of the elevator onto the eleventh floor of the hotel we were staying in in New York, Ben hopelessly trying to locate the key card in his wallet.

"Hurry up!" I begged, my hand finding its way to his cock while he groaned in irritation at his own complacency regarding the room key. "I need you inside of me," I purred into his ear, biting his lobe.

Finally success in finding the key, Ben used it to open the door and drag me inside. I was in a fit of giggles, horny, drunk, excited from my dream having come true this evening. "Ben, help me take this off," I moaned trying to take the dress off but failing miserably.

"With pleasure." His eyes narrowed as he walked across the room towards me, untangling me from my dress and as much as I knew he wanted to literally rip it off of me from having been celibate for a week, it was far too expensive for him to do that.

"I'm so glad I have a boyfriend with respect for fashion," I giggled, running my hands through my hair.

"And I'm so glad I have a girlfriend with tits as perfect as yours," he replied, taking my right breast in his grip and bringing his mouth down to cover my nipple.

"Fuck," I moaned, my eyes closed and my fingers running through his hair. "Don't hold back on me tonight, yeah?"

He looked up. "Did you really think that I would?"

"No, but I thought I should remind you how much I fucking need it," I smirked.

"Love you," he kissed me quickly right before he got to his knees and ripped my thong off.

"Love...you too," I responded in gasped breaths as his tongue met my clit for the first time tonight. "Ahhh," I cried as his tongue kept moving up and down my opening, purposely avoiding touching my clit again. He had one hand gripping my hip, whilst the other he used to open me up to him.

My knees began to feel weak as he eventually found his way back to my clit, beating at it with such unrelenting focus that I could barely remember my own name. Before too long, his fingers then joined his tongue, stroking along me then pushing inside of me. His tongue sucked on my clit while he pumped two fingers in and out of my pussy. "Fuck yeah Ben," I moaned. "So fucking good!" My grip on his hair got tighter and I think that the more I pulled at the strands of blonde locks, the more he was getting turned on. The boy liked a little bit of pain, there was no denying it. I let out a little squeak when he bit at my labia, causing Ben to laugh with a mouthful of my pussy. "You freak!" I laughed, pushing at his shoulder.

"Don't act like you're not impressed baby." He was right, she had no comeback because she fucking loved it. His tongue was back at my clit moving at a ridiculously fast pace, his fingers rubbing against my g spot perfectly. My moans were getting out of hand and I hoped that we didn't have any other people on this floor.

Slowing down to help me control my orgasm, Ben started licking at me softly, moaning against me to create that little bit of extra stimulation. "Mmmm," I hummed. "So good." He had taken his fingers out of me, both his hands running up the back of my legs and cupping my bare naked ass as he continued to enjoy the taste of me on his tongue.

Although I loved the fast, radical pace he had began with, it was the slow, sensual licks that became my undoing; Ben knew this. I was yelping in his grip, his hands having to move to my hips again in order to keep me from falling over in pleasure since I was still standing. His tongue sped up a little, as he brought me closer and closer. "Ohhhh yeah, fuck Ben....mmmm," I cried. "I'm coming," I warned him, his tongue moving inside of me so he could capture my juices on the tip of it.  Once Ben licked me clean, he got to his feet and ran his tongue up the side of my neck. I moaned loudly, tilting my head to the side so he had more access, my fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

"I wanted to jump onto that catwalk and fuck you right there in front of everyone," he growled, picking me up with his hands firmly on my upper thighs. "Show everyone that this body is mine."

A high pitched squeal escaped me as Ben bit down on my collarbone, before soothing it with a lick of his hot tongue. My legs were tight around his waist now as he carried me over to the king sized hotel room bed that had yet to be touched. I loved it when he was dominant with me like this, he always was after we'd gone a while without having sex.

He laid me down on the bed gently while taking his blazer and sheer shirt off, holding himself up by his defined arms either side of my head. I pouted and ran my hands along his now bare chest. He cocked his head, asking without words what on earth there was to pout about right now. "I wanted to take that off." I said sweetly, looking up into his eyes, my hands running through his hair.

"Well I can always put it back on so you can?" He suggested, laughing a little before kissing me.

"It would be a sin to cover that gorgeous chest back up," I cooed, eyeing his defined chest that looked like it was sculptured from a Greek God. "But really Ben," I began as I looked back into his heavenly green eyes. "Thanks for being there tonight." I hadn't thanked him and maybe I didn't need to, but I wanted to. I wanted him to know just how much his support meant to me. I knew it was sometimes hard for him to stand back when so many people said stuff about me, particularly about how I looked. His natural instinct was to defend me, protect me, but unfortunately in this industry you had to let a lot of things go.

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything in the world," he spoke softly. "You are the most magnificent woman I have ever laid my eyes on," he littered my skin with soft kisses and occasional licks of his tongue that created shivers through me. His lips found mine again thankfully where he indulged me in a heated kiss. "But I would think that whether you walked the Victoria's Secret runway or not," he laughed.

Our soft moment was soon over quickly when I hastily flipped him over so I was sat on his midsection, my body on full display for him. My pussy was soaking, leaving a patch of wetness on his abs. I rocked my hips a little creating a whiney groan from Ben. "You like riding my abs like that?" His hands were on my hips guiding me while he wore a cheeky grin. "Leaving your juices all over me?"

I giggled, nodding my head but never losing my rhythm.

"You're such a good girl," Ben praised me, his hands leaving my hips and silkily roaming up my sides until he harshly grabbed each of my breasts. "So fucking sexy." Deeper now, his voice could have made me come right then and there. One of my favourite things about my boyfriend was his talking voice; smooth and calming. But when things got heated in the bedroom it reached a level that previously I would have thought impossible. The deepness exuded pure sex.

"I want your cock." It was getting too much now, I needed him inside me.

"Oh you do, do you?" He cocked a brow, a brazen smile on his face. Damn, those pink lips looked extra luscious from eating me out.

"Yeah. So take your pants off please." I climbed off him, his stomach glistening under the low lights coming from the lamps on either side of the bed. I pulled a hair band off my wrist to tie my hair up while I watched him undo his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down so fast if I blinked I would have missed it.

"Keen?" I giggled.

"Baby, keen is an understatement," he retorted, kicking the last of his pants off his ankles. "Now get back over here!" He reached out, pulling me over by the back of my leg. I threw one leg over Ben and hovered above his angry looking cock. Pre cum was leaking out the top, he was literally about to explode.

"Hop on baby, I'm bursting," he took my hips in his strong hold again as I impaled myself with his huge dick.

Mutual moans filled the room as I started to rock my hips in circles. The intrusion of him inside of me after a very long week had me yelling, my mouth falling open as high pitched moans constantly fell out. Usually Ben liked to gradually build up to the hard and fast art of fucking but not tonight, no he was right into it and I was loving every second.

I leant forward on his sweaty chest which Ben took as an opportunity to thrust hard up into me. "Oh fuck Ben.....mmmmm," I cried, throwing my head back in pleasure as my pussy took the full brunt of each hard thrust. His cock slide in and out of me with such ease at this point, the wet sounds and skin slapping all that could be heard among our loud, passionate moans.

It was becoming the most intense sex we had had in a very long time. I supposed the anticipation to it as well as how fucking sexy we thought one another looked tonight, I would have been crazy to think that this would have gone any other way.

I ran my ringers through his sweaty hair as I leant down further, kissing him, his fingers scratching down my back, which I arched to create a deeper angle. Our moans became lost in our kisses before Ben pulled away.

"Ahhh, fuck, you're so fucking wet, babe," he groaned, moving to leave multiple bites along my collarbones, just above my tits, finally almost taking my right nipple off by yanking it so hard.

"Shit," I squealed, making Ben laugh. "Do you not want me to have nipples?"

Ben chuckled, pumping into me even harder and pulling my attention right back to where it needed to be. We clung to one another, clawing at each other's damp skin as we both approached our peaks. Things were becoming fast and frenzied.

"Fuck yeah, harder!" I coaxed Ben on, to which he sat up immediately and dug his fingers into my hips. I took the hint, instantly starting to bounce up and down on him. My arms wrapped tightly around his neck, my tits still bouncing against his chest as I fucked myself on him.

"I'm gonna come," he groaned deeply, his fingers leaving red marks on the skin of my hips as he guided me up and down faster. Sure enough a few seconds later I felt him come inside of me which triggered my orgasm. Ben groaned again as I tightened around him and rode out my orgasm.

Once we both recovered from our orgasms, we remained in the same position, him still comfortably inside of me.

"Next time someone tells you to refrain from sex for work can you tell them to go fuck themselves?" His hands ran up and down my back in a loving manner.

"How about I'll tell them that I'll go fuck you instead?" Gruffly laughing, he proceeded to roll me over for round two.

TAG LIST: @galileoqueen-mama-mia , @fuckinghurricanesoul , @tanya-is-dead@ziggysstarrdust , @spidreling , @screaminggalileochickenwrites , @softbenhardy , @mortifiedmoon

[princessyennenga]

The Left Hand Rocks the Cradles - Chapter 2

Previously ...

Scott adjusted his blazer around his shoulders with a shrug.

“Someone with your talents should just accept that offer at a larger, reputable and profitable paper where she can build on the potential for a career legacy. Instead of chasing followers, likes and shares.”

After another 30 minutes, Iris had filled more pages with notes and quotes about the new hospital wing. After working this room, and Scott working her nerves, she was ready to wrap up this assignment. Then the message notification jingled on her phone and re-energized her. It was Barry. Instead of texting a reply, she stole away to a quiet spot near a water fountain and called him back.

“Hi Babe. So good to hear your voice,” Iris breathed.

“Oh yeah?” she could hear Barry’s face open up into a smile on the other end.

“Of course. You're my sunshine,” Iris laughed lightly, still touched that he appreciated her love so much.

“I do my best. So I take it that means your press conference and tour went well?” he said. Iris could hear the clink of heavy glass in the background. A young girl's voice rasped ‘Daddy. Dad! We don't have enough nitric--’ For a brief moment, Barry was distracted, probably by Nora wanting to ‘help’ him with his backlog of cases.

“Hang on just a second Iris, OK?” Iris gave him gave leave to help their daughter, the time traveler, get situated to begin her first round of analysis and reports for the day. He returned with a sigh.

“Just had to get Nora --”

“Situated, yeah, I understand. Listen, you’ll probably need to supervise her, so I’ll let you go --”

“Not so fast, Mrs. West-Allen!” he chided softly. “Catch me up on how things are going. I know you were wondering if Scrat Evans was going to show up …”

“It’s Scott, Barry,” Iris corrected, only half sternly. “And we agreed to take the high road about me having to see him for work every now and then, right? We're not going to be seventh grade about this?”

“Oh yeah! High road. Completely!” Barry assured so earnestly Iris could feel green eyes widen and his head nod. “I mean, I have no reason to dislike the guy. Feel bad for him, actually. Denied!” 

“Barry ...”

“He couldn’t even get a second date … and that coffee at Jitters was technically a story meeting, and not … ”

Just then Iris saw an elegant Black woman with thick salt and pepper hair, cut stylishly short, come into view just 20 feet away.

“Barry, I promise to fill you in when I get to S.T.A.R. Labs later,” Iris said. “I just spotted Theresa Merkel, and she would be good for the article.”

After Barry signed off with few endearments, Iris adjusted the strap of her large tote bag over her shoulder and bobbed through the crowd until she reached Theresa Merkel.

“Mrs. West-Allen. Hello again,” Theresa nodded calmly. “I didn't realize your coverage included the healthcare sector.”

Iris and Theresa exchanged greetings, but not too many pleasantries or small talk. Still, there was no awkwardness between them as Iris got straight to her questions.

“Mrs. Merkel, there was a small footnote near the back of the expansion budget report --” Iris said.

“The budget report?” Theresa was taken aback. “But financials are confidential. How did you obtain …?”

“Just. Connections, I guess,” Iris shrugged.

“And incredible resourcefulness! Well, continue.”

“It was a $13 million line item denoted by ‘PM’ …” Iris said. As she talked, Theresa’s mood shifted noticeably, but not toward hostility. She nodded slowly and took a soft, deep breath, and for a brief second Iris registered a very similar feeling to the one she read from Cecile when Jenna had kept her up for much of the night.

“Yes, well. A $13 million budget item, in my view, was a starting point to address some of the issues that have come to light in Central City recently,” she sighed. “I was not the only hospital board member to realize that many lives have been touched and changed in many ways. More than we can understand.”

Iris looked slightly puzzled, but before she could ask any more questions, a well-built man, fashionably bald, came along and looked eager to steal Theresa’s attention. Theresa recognized him instantly, as ‘Donovan,’ and excused herself from Iris. ‘More than we can understand’ echoed in Iris’ mind as she shook hands with several more hospital staff members while making her way to the coat rack. Most of the journalists for the city’s two largest newspapers had already fled to their offices to write up what they considered fluff pieces before moving on to meatier stories. Their hospital items might get boiled down to a full-page story in the Picture News, or a quick photo story leading the City section of the Central City Tribune, the city’s premiere broadsheet. 

The phrase was reminiscent of what Barry, or The Flash, then The Streak, had told Iris during their first rendezvous on the Jitters rooftop. As she tried to pry out of him how he could do what he did, he answered

‘There’s more to this than you can understand.’

Iris had felt slightly challenged by his answer. How did he know what she was capable of understanding and what concepts were beyond her grasp? His answer, almost a dismissal had fired her curiosity to really dig into who he was. It led Iris to a world of metas.

Barry was right when he excitedly drew a circle around that dot on his equation board in circle around that dot on his equation board in his CCPD lab. The particle accelerator had opened an entire field of science that Central City, and the world, were just beginning to explore.

‘Fully understand.’ Was Theresa Merkel saying that there is a $13 million pediatric meta research facility here? At the children’s hospital?! It was a theory that, if proven to be true, would impact the lives of every citizen of this city, population 1.7 million. A story like that would finally put the Central City Citizen on the map as more than just a “citizen journalist” blog, or “amateur researcher’s” blog or … the “how funny” blog, as Iris had overheard a few hardened career women describe her publication at networking events.      Iris pulled her jacket off the coat rack and rushed out of the hospital. She had her own fluff pieces and bigger stories to plan.

After an easier ride away from the hospital, Iris was energized. She stopped at Jitters to find a quiet, familiar spot so that she could focus. She ordered a chai latte and a small scone, then settled into a favorite spot near one of the tall windows. The winter sun easily reached through bare trees and poured through the uncovered glass windows, warming Iris so much that she had to shake off the duster that she wore over her long-sleeved, wrap silk blouse. She set her phone to 'Do Not Disturb' and opened her laptop. After almost an hour, Iris sat up high in her chair and stretched. She posted a 750-word story to Google Docs for her freelance editor, Julie Greer, to pick up and review. Then she picked up feature stories a couple of college stringers had turned in: a profile on a tattoo artist, and an organization bidding for a paralympic training camp. Over the next 90 minutes Iris swiftly edited the two stringer’s stories and passed them to Julie for a second read. Then they would be placed in the queue for posting, both to the main Web site and to subscribers’ e-newsletters. Another 30 minutes went by as Iris checked emails: a programmer had sent a link for a sample redesign; Emmet, the commission-only ad sales rep had great news about a rideshare service and fashion subscription Website.

And then a peculiar message: one from Theresa Merkel. Actually, her executive assistant. Iris leaned closer to her screen and craned her neck, taken aback at the outreach. Just as she had clicked it open and begun to read it, her video chat app intruded.

“MOM!!” Nora’s brown eyes wide with agitation, blocked the message. “Dad and I have been trying to reach you for the past hour. Where are you? What’s going on? Why is you phone going to voicemail??”

Then Barry’s face slid into the frame, his brows furrowed and his eyes peering into the lens. Iris suppressed a laugh behind her hand. Her adorable nerd husband forgot -- again -- that lenses do not always give up the secrets on the other end.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Iris uncovered her mouth. “Work got away from me a little bit.”

“Hey, no schr---!” Nora fired back.

“Nora!” Barry’s stern tone checked Nora’s language, but not her exuberance.

“Of course. Sorry Mom. But we have lunch plans, remember?” Nora said, glancing back at Barry. “You can’t just go offline for half the morning and not let us know. It’s like Dad says, ‘all family plans come first’.”  

Iris launched into a flurry of apologies as she snapped her laptop shut and collected the pens, notebooks and papers fanned out on the table. Just as she stood up and slid into her duster and camel hair coat, Iris heard the sound of a toddler giggling and babbling. She didn’t see a child, but noticed a brownie float off of another patron's plate, who was so distracted by her own phone that she barely noticed the brazen theft. Then, a young woman bustled past Iris' table, looking frantic. The alarm in the woman's face crested when she saw the dessert seemingly float away on its own. The young woman smacked the food away, causing it to hit the floor. She feigned clumsiness and apologized profusely to the woman who was sitting behind the empty plate, slapping a bill down on the table to pay for a replacement. Iris' interest is piqued when she noticed the young woman looking at the front door, as three more customers pushed the door wide open and walk in. The young woman hurriedly followed the swinging door and looked around. Then, thinking that no one had noticed her, she crouched down and appeared to grab thin air with her hand.

“Barry, Nora, I might be a little late for lunch …”

“Iris, come on! I haven’t seen you all day,” Barry took over the video chat while Nora was in the background grabbing their jackets. Of course, he had seen her just several hours ago, that morning, but to a speedster a few hours felt interminable. 

“Is it the blog relaunch,” he asked, “because you have to be careful not to overwork yourself.”

“No, no Barry, I’m on to something here,” then Iris lowered her voice to a whisper. “Of the *dark matter* variety …”

“Oh! Look, Iris be careful …”

“I will, I will,” Iris said hurriedly, and began to follow the young woman outside from a safe distance. “Look, Barry I have to follow up on this, but I’ll fill you in when I see you a little later. For lunch. Promise.”

After a round of “I love yous” Iris dashed off. She followed the young woman down a busy street, which was beginning to thicken with lunchtime crowds. Every now and then her arm appeared to lift away from her body, tugging her wildly. A couple of times the young woman stopped and looked around her, while Iris hid in a doorway. Finally, the young woman turned at the entrance to a quiet alley, where she crouched down again. She spoke quietly but firmly to *someone* until the air in front of her shimmered and a small child, about three or four years old, appeared. The young woman sighed and spoke to the child again, stroking his arm warmly. Then she took the child by the hand and they walked to a luxury sedan, where she buckled him into a carseat. Iris stayed out of sight as she watched the mother hand over a juice box before buckling herself in and pulling away.

[argyle-s]

Something Just Like This Chapter 13/?

Rating: Mature (For Later Chapters)

Notes:  The idea of how Cat and Carter communicate when he's stressed is lifted shamelessly from @unicyclehippo​'s wonderful fic Carter Grant, Super Sleuth which you should absolutely go read as it is one of the classics of SuperCat fandom, and a wonderful story.

(Also, I have edited one line for clarity since this was originally posted.)

Read at Ao3

Start at the Beginning

Cat and Carter have a talk about her new relationship.

Chapter 13 - Concern

Cat felt a moment of déjà vu as she walked towards the front door.  Four nights earlier, she’d been nervous because it was her first date with Kara.  Today, she was nervous for a far different reason.  What she had with Kara was turning out to be everything she’d hoped for, but it could all come crashing to an end in just a few minutes, because she was about to tell Carter about it.  She’d told Kara that this couldn’t continue if it wasn’t okay with him, and Kara had whole heartedly agreed with that.  Which made Cat love her that much more and made her that much more afraid of how much it would hurt if Carter reacted poorly.

She took a deep breath as she opened the door.  Anthony stood there next to Carter, but she ignored him and bent down, smiling at her son.

“Hey,” she said, reigning in her desire to reach out and hug him.  Carter was pretty good with it normally, but he was always a little skittish about physical contact after spending time at his father’s.  It was one of the reasons she stayed angry with Anthony almost constantly.  She wasn’t perfect herself.  She sometimes forgot to check in with him before she hugged him if she was scared, like she’d been after the train incident, but Anthony completely disregarded Carter’s normal shyness about physical contact.  It was also one of the reasons she was so stunned at how Carter had taken to Kara during the babysitting incident.

“Hey, Mom,” Carter said in a subdued tone.  She had to fight to keep from frowning.  Something was off.

“Why don’t you go inside,” she said.  “I’ll be in in just a minute.”

Carter nodded and slipped past her, his head down and his shoulders slumped, and Cat felt the anger burning in her.  She stamped it down, determined not to have a blow up on today of all days.  She stood up and looked at Anthony.

“Let’s go inside,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Cat reached up and placed her hand in the center of his chest, and pushed, forcing him back so that she could step out into the hall and close the door behind her.

“I have a feeling this isn’t a conversation I want Carter to overhear.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you splashed it across every gossip column in the country.”

“Anthony, as always, your mouth is moving, and you’re making noise, but nothing meaningful is being added to the conversation,” Cat said, but she felt a cloud of cold dread envelop her, because he could only possibly be talking about one thing.  She hadn’t checked the headlines that morning. Between worrying about how Carter was going to take the news that she and Kara were dating, and day dreaming about the three dates they’d been on so far, she hadn’t had time, but it was starting to sound like that was a mistake.

“You’re not really going to stand there and pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he replied.

“I have some notion of what you might be talking about, but  hope I'm wrong.  My opinion of myself might never recover if it turns out I was such a poor judge of character that I married such a small, narrow minded little man. So please, enlighten me.”

“It’s all over the news, Cat. You’re fucking your secretary. What’s her name?  Karen, or Christie or Katy?”

Cat raised her index finger in warning.  “First, Kara hasn’t been my assistant in months.  Second, I don’t see how who I date is any of your concern.”

“Oh, please,” Anthony said. “If you wanna get a piece on the side, that’s your business, but letting the help sleep their way to the top is beneath you.  And taking her out in public.  Really? What were you thinking?”

Cat stared at him for a moment, wondering what she’d ever seen in him.  Of course, she knew the answer.  He’d been kind and attentive when she was at a low point.  Adam’s father had just gotten married, and he’d asked her to sign the paperwork so his wife could legally adopt Adam.  And as husbands go, Anthony wasn’t the worst she’d had, but that was a fairly low bar.  He’d always been a little selfish.  A trait which had only gotten worse once she’d gotten pregnant, and which gave her a clue about why he was so upset.

“You should really thank me, Anthony,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.  “After all, this just proves you weren’t responsible for the failure of our marriage.  No one could expect it to last, since I’m just a frigged little lesbian ice queen.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Don’t be a bitch.”

“Oh, why not?  That’s what you’re really worried about, isn’t it? Everyone saying I switched because you couldn’t perform.”

“I’m worried about my son.”

“That’s funny.  You weren’t worried about your son a few weeks ago when Kara was the one to ride every roller coaster at Six Flags with him, because you were off fucking your… What did you call it?  Oh, yes.  Your ‘piece on the side.’”

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?  You want to talk about ‘not fair’?  Not fair is seeing the disappointment on *my* son’s face every time his so-called father fails to show up.  Not fair is having *my* son ask me why his father doesn’t love him.  If there’s something wrong with him, or if he did something to make you hate him.  That’s not fair.”

“I have found someone who cares about me, and who cares about *my* son enough to actually show up when she promises too.  If you care about your son, then you can take the hit to your pathetic ego.  If you can’t, I can have my lawyers draw up termination of parental rights paperwork.  But if you ever say one negative word about Kara in front of Carter, I promise you, we will revisit the divorce decree, and this time I won’t hold back.”

“Cat-”

“We’re done,” Cat said, cutting him off.  “If you take issue with the fact that my twenty-six-year-old girlfriend is a better parent to your child than you are, I suggest you take a good, hard look in the mirror.”

Without giving him a chance to reply, Cat opened the door to her apartment and stepped inside, closing it as quietly as possible, and locking it.  She took a deep breath, wishing she could take a few minutes and review the news coverage, but she’d already wasted too much time on someone who’s opinion didn’t matter.  She needed to be with her son.

She pushed off the door and headed into the apartment.  A quick glance told her Carter wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room, which was a bad sign.  It meant he was in his bedroom.  She headed down the hall, pausing a moment to pick up her tablet before knocking softly on his door.

There was no answer, then then, she hadn’t really expected one.  She lifted her tablet and opened her chat app.

‘Carter, sweetie, can I come in?’ she sent.

‘Yeah,’ he replied.

Cat opened the door and stepped into Carter’s room.  He was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, looking at his tablet. Cat pulled the chair from his desk over next to his bed and sat down.

‘Hey,’ she sent.  She sat patiently, watching as he worked on the tablet for a while, forcing herself not to reach out and touch him like she ached to. She waited, knowing he needed time and space to feel safe, so she gave it to him.  She spent the time pulling up the gossip sites, not at all surprised to find imagines of her and Kara at the theater on Thursday night, and a few from the Art Gallery Cat had taken Kara to Friday.   She sat quietly for almost half an hour, reading all the nasty comments about her love life on TMZ, until Carter sent her another message.

‘Are you dating Kara?’ he asked, not looking up from what he was doing.

‘Yes,’ she sent back.  She was silent for a few minutes, waiting for his response as she browsed the somewhat kinder comments on CatCo’s entertainment and celebrity website.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked after about five minutes.

‘It’s new,’ Cat sent back.  ‘We were just friends for a while.  I wanted there to be more, but I didn’t think she would feel the same, but we had a conversation on Tuesday.  I didn’t mean to say anything, but we were both upset about something that happened at the office, and I said something that let her figure out how I feel.  We talked more on Wednesday, and she told me she felt the same way.  We only went out for the first time Thursday night, but we’ve been on three dates so far.’

Carter didn’t look up from his tablet and she was careful not to look directly at him, instead watching out of the corner of her eye.  She was used to this.  It was how he coped when the conversation was too intense.  When they communicated through the chat app, he could focus on something else, and let it process in the background.  It drove his father nuts, which was one of the things she and Anthony fought about when it came to Carter.  Anthony thought she coddled him, and Cat thought Anthony had no respect for Carter’s special needs.  Under the terms of the amended and very detailed custody agreement, Anthony was required to adhere to the recommendations of Carter’s therapist, but Cat worried every time Carter left with him.

‘So you didn’t tell me because I was at Dad’s?’ Carter sent

‘Yes.  I was planning on talking to you about it today,’ Cat sent back.

Carter hunched forward a bit more, curling in on himself.  Cat recognized the signs.  He was trying to screw up his courage.  For a moment, Cat worried that everything was going to come crashing down, and she was going to have to choose her son over Kara.  The outcome was a foregone conclusion, of course, but it would hurt so very much.

‘I don’t want to see dad anymore,’ Carter sent.

Cat let out the breath she’d been holding, waiting for the axe to fall.  It only took a second for the dread to be replaced with ice cold fury.

‘Did something happen?’ she asked.

Carter curled up a bit tighter, and Cat knew she’d asked the wrong question, and started typing quickly.

‘Sweetie, if you don’t want to go back, you don’t have too,’ she sent.  While she waited, she gripped her tablet in her hands to keep from reaching out to him.

Carter uncurled a bit, and Cat breathed a sigh of relief as she watched him relax.  ‘Good,’ he replied.

‘I just want to understand. That’s all.’

Carter nodded, but still didn’t look up.  ‘I like Kara. I think she’s nice,’ he sent.

‘So do I,’ Cat sent back.

It was a few minutes before Carter replied.  ‘Dad doesn’t like her.’

Cat could see it perfectly in her head.  How the whole thing unfolded.  Anthony had come across the coverage that morning.  Then, like he always did, he forgot Carter existed, and said something horrible about Kara, or her, or both of them, while Carter was within ear shot. Probably mouthing off to whichever younger model he was seeing currently.  Cat had trouble keeping track, which is why she had a private investigator who vetted everyone her ex-husband dated.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ Cat sent. ‘I’ll go call Elizabeth, and we’ll see about getting it set so you don’t have to go back to your Dad’s unless you decide you want to.  Then, I’ll make us some lunch.  How does that sound?’

“Do you think Kara could come visit?” Carter asked out loud, making Cat smile.

“We’ll see,” Cat said.  “If she’s not busy, I’ll bet she’d like that.”

***

“How are you doing?” Kara asked Carter.

“Better,” Carter replied. “Thanks for coming over.”

Cat stopped just outside the doorway to the game room, not wanting to interrupt the moment between her son and Kara.

“I wish I could say anytime, but you know my job keeps me really busy,” Kara said.  “But I promise, if you ever really need me, I will do everything I can to be here for you and your mom.”

“Really?” Carter asked.

“Really,” Kara said.  “I mean, you obviously know how special I think your mom is.”

“Yeah,” Carter said.  “You always get mushy face when you look at her.”

“Mushy face?” Kara said.  “I do not!”

“You totally do!  Even the first time you took care of me, you’d get the same dopy face she gets when she looks at you.”

“You couldn’t have told me this a year ago?” Kara said.

“Mom says it’s not nice to tell people when they’re being stupid,” Carter said.

Kara laughed.  “Your mom said that?”

“I know, right,” Carter replied.

Cat couldn’t help but grin, just a little.

“The thing is, even if you and your mom didn’t come as a set, which you guys totally do, I’d still want to hang around with you.  You’re pretty awesome yourself.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Carter said.

“It’s true though,” Kara said. “Didn’t you help Supergirl on the train?”

“You were just giving me busy work, Kara,” Carter said.

Cat’s breath caught in her throat a little bit at hearing her son say that, but to her surprise, Kara just chuckled.

“What gave it away?” she asked.

“The Scar,” Carter said.

“Just don’t tell me the glasses are a stupid disguise, okay?”  Kara said.

“Sore subject?”

“One of my sister’s friend figured it out in, like, five minutes,” Kara replied.

“Well, just because I’m not saying it doesn’t make it untrue.”

Cat had to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“You’re as bad as your mother, who can totally stop eavesdropping and come in now,” Kara said.

Cat rolled her eyes and stepped around the corner, smiling at the sight of Carter and Kara sitting next to each other.

“What gave me away?” Cat asked.

“What didn’t?” Kara said. “I smelled the pizza and your perfume, and I heard your heartbeat and your breathing.”

“No seeing her through the wall?” Carter asked.

“Nope,” Kara said.  “Leaded glass lenses.  Trust me, X-Ray vision is not something you want use accidently.  I have seen things.”  She gave a dramatic shudder.

Cat sat the pizza down on the table, next to where Carter and Kara had set up Small World.  They were both a little frustrated after Cat had beat them two games in a row at Settlers of Catan and opted for a switch in games.

“Do I even want to know what the story is there?” Cat said as she sat down.

“Let’s just say no one involved still works at CatCo and leave it at that,” Kara said.  “Are you okay with this?”

“With Carter having figured out your secret identity?” Cat asked.

“Yeah,” Kara said.

“I’m actually a little miffed he didn’t think to share the information with his mom if he figured it out that quickly,” Cat said, giving Carter a mock glare.

“How long did it take you do figure it out?” Carter asked.

“The email leak,” Cat said. “Though I had my suspicions after the Earth Quake.  You seem to be taking Carter figuring things out a lot more gracefully than you did when I figured it out.”

Kara just smiled at her and reached down, picking her purse up off the floor.  “Carter can’t fire me because he things I should be Supergirl full time,” she said.  Cat felt a little guilty at the words, but Kara’s tone was light and teasing.  “Besides, I was going to check with you first to make sure it was okay that he knew, but I already planned on telling him.  I sat down and had a long talk with J’onn after our first date.  He agreed with me that it would be hard to explain where these came from without telling Carter the truth.”  She took two long, narrow boxes out of her purse, and handed them to Cat.

Cat took them and immediately spotted her name on one box, and Carter’s name on the other.  She opened the one with her name on it and was immediately taken aback.  The watch she was staring out was exquisite.  She didn’t recognize the designer, but it was the design was simple and elegant.  It wasn’t until she noticed at in place of the usual numbers or Roman numerals, there was symbols she didn’t recognize that she understood what she was looking at, and when she tilted the watch to get a better look, she caught sight of Supergirl’s emblem etched very finely into the crystal.

“The numbers are Kryptonian,” Kara said, blushing a little.  “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and have them changed.”

“No!” Cat said, clutching the box firmly in hand.

Kara smiled at her even wider, obviously pleased.  “They are more practical than they look,” she said.  “Press the crown in.”

Cat looked down at the watch as she pressed in the knob on the side, and the face swung up, revealing a button shaped like Supergirl’s symbol set in below what looked like a speaker grill.

Carter reached over and took the box with his name on it, opening it reverently.  Cat smiled approvingly as she saw that his watch was less a piece of fine jewelry, and something more appropriate to a teenage boy who happened to be a huge Supergirl fan.  The watch itself was in the classic diamond shape of Supergirl’s symbol, with a sturdy band that looked like leather.  The red, yellow and blue symbol was set into the face, and when he pressed in the knob, the face swung up revealing a similar beacon to the one in her watch.

“It’s a distress beacon,” Kara said.  She looked over at Carter, and Cat saw her put on her Supergirl face.  “These are for emergencies only.”

Carter nodded.  “I understand,” he said solemnly.

“I hope it’s okay,” Kara said, her voice a little timid, making Cat turn to look at her.  “I was afraid it might be a little too much too soon, but I just…  I want to be there if either of you ever need me.”

Cat reached out and took her hand.

“Thank you,” Cat said, and she meant it.  The watches might not be engagement rings, and Cat was under no illusions that they were that far along in their relationship, but the meaning was clear, all the same.  

On the same day when Carter’s father had reminded her that neither of them were ever anything more to him that status symbols to prop up his reputation and ego, Kara was claiming them as family.

[jasper-rolls]

i talked about this a bit on twitter but i wanna elucidate on it here so here’s another fucking post about the fucking dream daddy shit because i cant stop myself from being annoyed by the back and forth and misrepresentation and vague posts trying to act like they’re just talking in general when its very obviously about this

strap in cause this is gonna be a long one

there are three points i want to make

1) criticism of media is important and needed, particularly in the realm of discussing representation and creator intent, since its overall purpose is to further discussion and foster overall improvement in future. criticism of a work isn’t always an attack on the people who like it

i mean, we’ve all been there. it sucks to read when someone’s talking down something you like a lot, especially if its something that’s very meaningful to you. it happens to me too - i can’t count the number of times i’ve read an article or essay ripping apart something i love and found it very difficult to disengage my personal feelings from it.

but unless the person making the criticism is specifically going out of their way to say “and all the people who LIKE this thing are fucking gibbering idiots who wouldn’t know good quality if it punched them in the face”, then the criticism isn’t an attack on you personally, and you have to find the place to disengage that emotional attachment and at least tolerate the criticism of the work. you may accept and agree with it or not, but understand that the critic is (probably) not directly attacking you

and raising potential problems on the representation side of the work is important, because it highlights potential problems for people interested in it that they might not have been aware of before, like creator’s personal views influencing development of the work, or unfortunate implications of plot beats within the work

there’s definitely legitimate cause for concern in game grumps involvement with dream daddy. in my personal experience, the grumps aren’t particularly forward thinking in a lot of respects - arin and danny are quick to lapse into bottom of the barrel racist accent humor (particularly with asian characters), or “hey, isn’t being gay kind of weird” straight guy nonsense. the understanding they’ve showcased of lgbt concepts and issues leaves a lot to be desired (last i remember, arin still considered “cisgender” to be a slur despite being told what it actually means)

and every time this is brought up, i see fans saying “oh but they’re better now, they’ve learned!” and i have to say, i still watch them fairly regularly and...they really haven’t! the “progress” is minimal at best, its like watching someone push a boulder up a hill. they haven’t really changed all that much in the last few years to be frank. so the concern with them being involved with, and putting their name on, a game where the focus is on mlm (and has transgender characters) has definite grounding, given how they’ve acted before.

and the cult ending naturally has unfortunate implications - the idea that every character in the game is being tricked into being forever single, their misery being used to fuel some sort of demon...i mean, given how gay people have been treated throughout history and in media, at the very least it’s pretty regressive. you can’t fault someone for reading the transcript and feeling a little sick

the raising and highlighting of these things isn’t a personal attack. it’s overall, to help people make an informed decision, and be aware of the things that aren’t so great - that might be a dealbreaker, on a personal level. criticism is valuable, and useful, and we should recognize it as such

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

2) on the opposite hand, EVERYTHING we read, watch, or play is guaranteed to have a problematic element of some sort, and nothing you ever enjoy is perfect. expecting something to conform to a 100% ideologically pure standard is unreasonable and ultimately a fool’s game

my personal favourite game of all time, ever, is killer7. it’s the game that bought suda51 to prominence in the west. it’s a weird blend of first-person shooter, rail shooter, and rpg. the story is outright bizarre, with disorienting visuals and surreal events like a lucha wrestler headbutting a bullet out of midair, a ghostly man wrapped in bdsm gear popping up to give you advice, and giggling zombies that explode on contact

its also got quite a share of shitty moments - a rape scene, the female characters leave a lot to be desired, its got a frankly weird interpretation of a lot of psychological disorders, and a good chunk of the game is dedicated to character development of a pedophile

suffice to say it probably wouldn’t be a big hit with a lot of people here. but does this stuff mean its completely reprehensible, and not worth spending any time with? i did just tell you it’s my favourite game so you can probably guess how i’m going to respond to that rhetorical question. this post is long enough without me spending several more paragraphs explaining to you why i think killer7 is worth giving a shot, so i’m going to skip to the point that this example is illustrating - the things we love, our favourite things, are probably just as, or maybe even more problematic than the things we don’t.

i’m not going to cite any further examples since i don’t know what you, the reader, personally enjoys or loves, but like...i guarantee you, its probably done something pretty shitty with its running time. i’m fairly confident i’ve never read or enjoyed something that didn’t at some point play into some shitty trope about lgbt people, or people of colour, or women - and if didn’t somehow, chances are it’s because it never showed them in the first place, because its focus is on straight, white, cis men, which is, naturally a problem of its own

if you’re willing to shrug off shitty opinions of creators of things you love, or bad tropes and plot elements in things you love, then why is it so different for the things you dislike? to write off dream daddy entirely, because of the involvement of game grumps, and the existence of one bad ending with shitty implications, and ignoring its more positive elements while praising the things you love that have more than likely done shitty stuff too is...frankly ridiculous

it perhaps may not seem like much to you, but dream daddy getting the kind of coverage and attention it has is...kind of a big deal as far as i’m concerned! games with narrative tend to be pretty hostile towards gay men*, so for a game that presents an overall sincere and positive representation of gay men to see this much attention and get to no. 1 seller on steam a significant step forward, i think. it’s not revolutionary, but personally, as a gay man, it means a lot to me, and i know a few other gay men who would feel the same, and that surely counts for something

and as far as killer7 goes, well...waypoint explains it better than i could, but i would just like to say: that pedophile character i mentioned? that part of the game ends with you beating him in a duel so hard, he falls over and gets eviscerated by a machine designed to cut out organs. so it’s not all bad.

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

3) (this is the big one) this site has a big fucking problem with virtue signalling 

perhaps its bad of me to assume something of people, but i’m going to go out on a limb and say at least one person immediately closed the tab the moment they read that line, and i wouldn’t blame them, because the problem with saying something like “virtue signalling” is that the alt-right and gamergaters have tried their absolute hardest to make that phrase essentially mean nothing by throwing it at anyone who shares a dissenting opinion of any kind. but despite their efforts, virtue signalling is a phrase that does actually have a meaning, and its the meaning i’m using here

i’m going to take a quick excerpt from hbomberguy’s video on the subject (it’s worth watching, it’s only 10 minutes long and pretty funny)  - “The term was originally coined[...]to decry people who say, ‘I don’t like this thing very much’, in order to feel good about themselves, and then just, vote Labour every few years or whatever and take no stake in actually making things better.”

tumblr (or at least, the part of tumblr i engage with) does this, a LOT. it’s in the smug, one line “uhhhh, yikes, lmao 💅” rebuttals to arguments against the thesis of a given post. it’s in the strawman cartoons and chat posts that cast opponents of the OP as self-contradicting fools. it’s in the “so jot that down” responses, the “i’m side-eyeing everyone who isn’t reblogging this”, etc. etc. everyone has done this. you have probably engaged with this. i definitely have - at least one of my popular posts, if not more is, basically me, doing this thing! to be fair i had no intention those posts being popular, but then one never does, do they?

in the case of dream daddy, it’s “me: y’all:” image edits snarkily demonstrating how they’re SWERVING “that dad dating shit”, chat posts casting defenders points as “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST NEVER CRITICIZE ANYTHING EVER”, posts smugly announcing they’re going to pirate the game just to take money from arin hanson, as if that’s how game development works, and i think it’s what’s led to a huge amount of misrepresentation about this game in particular

i’ve seen people acting like the game grumps are like, directing and writing the game, when, as far as i’m aware, all they did was provide funding and voice acting. and the big thing that really got my goat, was someone describing the cult ending, and listing the implications i’ve already gone over myself, and then saying that this was the game’s true ending

this...literally could not be further from the truth. for starters, no-one has actually gotten this ending from playing through the game naturally. the reason? because you CAN’T. it was found through data-mining - it isn’t accessible through regular play. it’s either content that was cut from the game late in development, or, as the theory goes, intended to be a non-canonical or fake ending added in as halloween DLC come october (given the tone of the whole thing it sounds reasonable to me) which has, unfortunately, now been ruined due to this whole debacle

to do this kind of thing, to describe this as “the true ending” borders on being an out and out lie for the purpose of making dream daddy look way, way worse than it actually is. there’s no justice here, there’s no attempt to inform accurately. it’s “hey, check out how shitty this thing is! i’m good for disliking it, aren’t i? ignore the context, or the fact that i’m literally lying about what this is”

look, okay, i’m getting a little vitriolic - people can make mistakes, misunderstand things, it happens. everyone does it. me too. but this posing, this “look how good and cool i am, for not liking this thing”, it helps nothing at best and actively harms at worse. misrepresenting positions, context, and events for the purpose of satisfying the ego of whoever is making the statement - it helps no-one, except that person, in the most minor and meaningless of ways

i want to be clear - this final bit is just as much a memo for myself as it is for everyone reading this

be critical. don’t take things at face value. read into issues, understand context. get as close to the source of the issue at hand as you can, and determine the truth from there. resist the urge to be smug, detached, and dismiss those who disagree with your position - resist the urge to laugh at them, they may just not know. try and engage them in honest debate. if they resist that, if they don’t want to meet you on an equal footing you are within your rights to disengage.

be strong. support the things you love, and remember where the line is

we can all be better

*i’m not saying that other groups aren’t treated with hostility in games and gaming - trans women certainly get it really, really bad. just personally saying, in my experience as a gay man, the gaming community, and subsequently games with a focus on narrative themselves, have a sort of...special hatred of mlm. not necessarily worse, just...uniquely hostile

[storytimewithtara-blog]

Cracked Case

Sydney pulled up on Rodger Kit's ATV to see a cracked-dog, something that would have looked like a German Shepard if not for the bulging muscle growth that had broken skin in patches. This one had a crack all the way down the spine, the bones tinged red from constant bleeding at the fringed edges of the wound. The thing wasn't even dead, just snagged by a flap of skin on the belly and trying to free itself because of the irritation from the Salvage metal. Much longer and she assumed the thing would rip out its own stomach. She picked out a small stem of lilac from her box attached to the ATV and tucked it behind her ear. A light brown shoulder holster held the handgun Mrs. Carver loaned her. The woman had not explained why she had a small assortment of guns in the first place, but Sydney was thankful for it anyway.

The wind was to her back, the cracked-dog had smelled the lilac when she'd opened the box. The barbed wire fence swayed with the pulling from the creature. Sydney heard a rip of flesh and she whined right along with the animal. She aimed her gun, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. Shooting cans off the dock had paid off, she hit the thing between the ears and there was no more frantic struggle.

From the ATV's box she pulled out a hazmat suit and slipped it over her clothes. All reports so far suggested that only a bite would induce the brain killing fever that was followed by death, but Sydney didn't enjoy touching these creatures at all. Shorts and a t-shirt didn't do much for coverage. Her burgundy hair went into a bun and under the hood of the suit, the lilac stem poking out. Before she got messy she called Rodger's son, Mark, to ride out with stuff to burn the body. The guy was only sixteen, but eager to help her and her brother, Jack, when he could. He was punctual too and pulled up before she had the whole body off the fence. Once the body and her suit were burning, she left him to take care of the fire and tighten up the wire. She had to reassure the Miller's their fence was secure, and she still had the other half of perimeter fencing to cover.

Sydney, lilac stem still tucked in, made her way along the fence that surrounded her little riverside town. There were motion cameras to check in on and wires to tighten. A lot of the houses she past were empty, it hadn't warmed up enough yet for the summer families to be out here, but the ones that had permanent residencies was where she focused more on security. Faces poked out of windows, doubtless they had already heard about the cracked-dog at the Miller's and were checked that they were safe. That was the first cracked-creature in two weeks, not bad if you believed the news and their talk of attacks tripling in the last month. She was so mentally distracted when the first town gate came up, she had driven twenty feet past it before stopping. Hopping off the ATV, Sydney started back towards the gate and noticed Mac waiting nearby.

“Figured I'd catch you here. You almost kept going,” Mac said. He was leaning against a gate post with arms across his chest and pulling his shirt tight against dark skin, a view Sydney didn't mind.

Mac wasn't one of the normal community. He and four others had come into their area rather abruptly by crashing into their east gate. Initial tensions had been high between his group and her first responders, but their need for help won out. Mac had had two badly injured and a vehicle in bad shape. The two weren't bitten, but some sort of accident had taken place with the SUV before they had crashed into town. Sydney set them up in one of the unoccupied houses as his people healed and a new vehicle was figured out.

“I was sort of zoned out, sorry. What's up?”

His casual smile shifted to a more concerned look. “I heard a gunshot earlier. Was that you?”

“Yeah, a cracked-dog. Thing was big.”

Mac pushed off the post and took a few steps towards her. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “I've done it before. Not that I like it, but no way around it.” “You could always ask for help. Get some more people to take shifts on patrol.”

“Dad wants to keep things as normal as possible, for as long as we can. That means only the necessary numbers watching the fences. We might add more if summer vacation people come back this year. Or if more cracked-creatures turn up. But for now it's just Jack, me, and a few others.”

“Lot of stress.”

“Not too bad. The shooting and burning is kind of therapeutic in itself. I get free drinks at the bar. It all works out. This whole set up is just until this cracked-creature thing blows over anyway.”

“You think that's possible?” He didn't look so convinced.

“Someone is going to find out where they are coming from. Then they'll get rid of them for good.”

Mac opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He seemed to be debating about whatever was about to come out of his mouth next.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, digging it out showed that Jack was calling. She held up a finger to Mac so he didn't start in on whatever was so important. “Hey, whatcha need?”

“There is a camera down just inside the treeline on the west side. Last few shots show a deer running out and smashing into the tree, knocked the camera out,” Jack said.

“Told you to put it in a bigger tree.”

“Told you to meh meh meh blah blah,” he replied. “You're not far from, care to fix it?”

“No problem. I'll put it in a much better place this time.”

“I'd put it up your ass,” Jack said before hanging up.

Sydney shoved her phone back in to her pocket. “Have to go fix a camera.”

“What happened?” Mac asked.

“Just a deer, knocked it out. Jack didn't put it in a great spot.” Sydney popped the right side of the gate, swung it wide open.

“You need backup.”

“It's just a little run out and back.”

Mac moved toward the ATV. He seemed set on coming along. Sydney wasn't completely against the idea of company, but wasn't about to let him take over the job.

She got between him and the ATV. “If you come, I drive the ATV. You stay behind me when we get out there.”

There hadn't been a lot of chatting in the two weeks Mac and his group and been here, not with Sydney directly anyway. She'd heard bits from other families who had the group over for dinner, but they were still a bundle of mystery. Maybe she could make this even more worth her while and get some answers out of him on the way.

He stiffened at the 'stay behind me' part, seemed to be struggling with it. She watched him internally fight with himself again. Sydney stepped on the ATV and swung a leg over. “Train is leaving.”

Mac climbed on behind her, his hands gripping the bars on the sides for balance.

She was a bit miffed he hadn't opted to hold on to her, but maybe that was asking too much of the big man to do. Sydney turned the engine on and they turned around to go through the gate. When she slowed Mac hopped off, closed the gate, and was climbing on again in just seconds. Along the way she gave the wire and posts a look over, but mostly just glances as they headed for the corner of woods that cut in to their town.

Mac was looking past the fence, to the houses sprawled out before the river. He spoke up over the wind, “I don't think I've told you how nice of a town you have here.”

“Thanks! We're working hard to keep it that way.”

“I've been meaning to ask. What came first? Shepherd the family, Shepherd the store, or Shepherd  the town?”

“The family. My great-grandfather built the first house on this stretch of river. Others followed. Then the store. Another guy built it, but gave up and sold it to my grandfather, who renamed it for the family. He expanded with the town. For awhile all that was here besides houses was the store. So people used it as a landmark of where they were going. When there were enough people permanently here to call it a town, they just used what people were already calling it.”

“That's very...”

“Quaint. You can say quaint, I won't be offended or anything.”

They fell into a couple minutes of silence. Mac watching the homes go by. Sydney forcing herself to focus on driving and not the man behind her. She didn't want this to become an awkward silence though.

“Are, or were, you military of some sort?” she asked.

“Marines. Why do you ask? Or what gave it away?”

“The way you walk.”

“Really?”

“Totally.” That was a lie. Sydney wasn't about to admit that four days ago she'd spied him working out with his shirt off in the park and caught sight of a tattoo on his shoulder that looked military-ish.

They were nearing the treeline. Sydney came to a stop close by the fence. She pointed into the trees, “The camera is only a bit inside there.”

Mac reached out and ran a finger along the thin, ragged scar across the back of her arm. “When did you get this?”

The contact surprised her and resulted in an embarrassing jump. She tried to recover by making it look like one big move off the ATV, but her cheeks heated up and Sydney knew it was useless. “My first run in with a cracked-creature. Another dog thing, that's what we get mostly out here. This was before the fence and gates went up. Why the fence and gates went up actually.

“Was about ten at night. Everyone was in for the night. The thing got into town without seeing anyone, thankfully. You know how they sort of just jump at anything that moves. The first thing it saw was Mrs. Carver's dog, she always let George out to do his business and let him in a few minutes later.  The creature jumped the fence and tore into the dog. She heard the fighting and came out with a gun. The thing took a run at her, but she lined up a shot somehow and caught him dead straight between the eyes.”

Mac climbed off the ATV and moved to the box at the back, inside was another gun. He checked the magazine and put one bullet in the chamber. Hers remained in the holster, but Mac was already posed with it out before him. Sydney got in to the box next, grabbing out the bag of assorted zip-ties from the bottom. She tucked those into her back pocket.

“Be extra nice to Mrs. Carver,” she continued,  “no one knows what she did before coming here to be so good with a gun. That woman has been here ten years and never did anything more than make cookies for anyone who wanted them. Real sweet. Never a bad word towards anyone. But the look she had when I got to her house that night, terrifying.

“A few more people showed up. Everyone knew burning was the best way to get rid of them, so some people started on that. I went to look at the damage to George. One back leg was near torn off. Throat was in shreds. Mrs. Carver came up behind me saying she wanted him buried out front. I was going to move him for her and start on that.”

“Infected animals are just as dangerous,” Mac said as they passed into the treeline.

“We thought they had to be living for that to apply. Bitten, but still moving. He'd bled out over half the backyard from the cracked-dog throwing him around. Her dog was dead. Until I tried to pick him up. Thing jumped, scratched the hell out of my arm. Tried to snap at me, but having one bum leg threw him off. Mrs. Carver put a shot through her own dog's head. Then we had to burn him with the other creature. Spent a week in the hospital, they watched my arm in case it became infected.”

“Nothing like the monsters showing up in your backyard.”

“And eating your dog.” Sydney pushed a low branch out of the way, held it for Mac to pass. “What was your first encounter?”

“I was in New York City before this. Infected strays are becoming a real problem in the city. One night a cracked-cat, some domestic type but real big, was tearing into some bum it had cornered in an alley. Took care of that one.”

“Cat. Good lord. What happened to the world to make these cracked-creatures?”

Mac kicked a lump of dead wood. “These things are man made. Grown and bred in a lab.”

“If that's true, someone would have tracked down where they escaped from. Someone would have reported a breakout.”

“Not unless they were let out. Strategically. Left in the wild to reproduce on their own and then run rampant.”

Sydney had a small sigh of relief when she saw the tree spray painted with a black X, the camera had been posted there. This was an easy change of topic. “The camera should be close by.”

They took small steps in opposite directions around the tree.

Mac lifted a hunk of bark. “You do know those creatures didn't just appear one day out of nothing.”

So a not so easy change of topic, it seems. “Yes, I know that. Who would make cracked-creatures though?”

“Who's making money out of all this?”

“No one is making money off this.”

“Who made your gates, barbed fences, the knife I see you tuck in your belt, the door stoppers, sealants, doors, bullets, and probably fills half your home now?”

“Salvage Company.” Sydney's stomach dropped. Her mysterious and attractive road traveler was slipping into crazed conspiracy theorist.

“Seems strange that those creatures are allergic, burn at the touch, to their patent protected secret alloy.”

“They were around before all this. My mom bought me a whole bunch of Salvage kitchen stuff when I left for college. People only caught on to the reaction when one guy got on the news after he held off a cracked-rat with just a spatula from them. And they went right to making anything people could need for defending against the cracked-creatures.” Sydney spotted the camera a couple feet from the base of the tree, the camo cover seemed to be intact. She squatted down and popped the lid to check the camera equipment inside.

“Short of telling anyone else what their alloy is so that other manufacturers can reproduce it,” he said coming up to her side. “These things have been public for only a year and Salvage Company has grown to ten times the size it was before.”

“They're were just a housewares company a year ago. How would they know how to make monsters like that?”

“It's another group. Not officially connected to Salvage for protection reasons.”

“Who?” Sydney snapped the cover shut; a couple switches were jostled, but nothing serious. She turned to look at the trees nearby, they needed one sturdier than the one Jack picked. On top of that, she hoped it would make it obvious she was trying not to pay too much attention to this conversation.

“I don't know who.” He seemed upset by that answer. “But I'm working on it. Me and the others.”

Oh good, Sydney thought, I let a whole pack of nutjobs into my town. Dad is not going to skin me at all for this. She'd also left town with the guy, telling no one that she was with him. Jack at least knew where she was though. “Well, good luck with that.”

“We tracked down the spatula guy in Boston,” he said.

“He's kind of a celebrity,” she said. “Must have been hard.” Sydney spotted a good candidate. Lots of branches, higher than the last tree, to secure the camera to and was nearly the same angle they had before into the woods.

“He lives in a penthouse now.”

“Must not have to fight off cracked-rats with a spatula there.” Sydney handed the camera to Mac. She grabbed at the lowest branch possible and tried to pull herself up. That didn't work, so she attempted to swing a leg up to latch on. When her foot came falling back and hit the trunk of the tree, Sydney realized she'd been through this before. The difficulty of this tree was why Jack settled on the other tree.

Mac watched her hang in defeat on the branch. “Guy was living on food stamps and checks from his mom before all that. How'd he make it all the way to a penthouse?”

“Someone auto-tuned his interview. Someone else made a couple t-shirts. That stuff adds up.” She dropped to the ground.

“The guy was paid off. Then shacked up in a suite with enough security to keep him in check. We had to go through ten guys to get to him.” Mac handed her the camera and stepped up to the branch.

“What do you mean by 'go through' exactly?” She watched him do a short hop to get a grip and then lift his body straight up on to the tree limb.

He reached down to her for the camera. “You want it right here or higher?”

“There is good. Point it into the trees.” She handed him the bag of zip-ties.

“How do you think he managed to get the attention of anyone at a news station?” Mac wasn't done with this conversation. She'd hoped the camera would distract him.

“The anchor was paid off too,” she sighed.

Mac was nodding as he pulled a zip-tie through a loop on the camera. She'd guessed right apparently. “A good sum of money was left with a note suggesting they listen to the guy.”

“You have the note?”

“I've been told of the note.”

“Spatula Guy and an anchorwoman from Boston's Channel Eight news are in cahoots with the shadowy evil laboratory that is cranking out monsters to help raise profits for the company that solely sold housewares before this. What was their motive to start this? Not selling enough mixing bowls?”

“It's all about profit. Manufacturer a disaster that only you can fix.”

“You want money, they've made enough in this past year to last another six lifetimes. And the creatures are only getting worse. Why keep going?”

Mac was quiet as he pulled a tie tight against the bark. He didn't seem to have an answer and she was okay with that. Sydney remembered the lilac in her hair, she pulled it out and twirled it around in her fingers. She didn't look up again until Mac called out.

“That should do it. The angle okay?”

“Let me call Jack, make sure it's all running right.” She pulled out her phone and quick dialed him.

He picked up after two rings. “Hey, so you have a friend out there with you?”

“I'm guessing that means the camera is working?”

“Yep. Any chance I could get it a smidgen more to the right?”

She pulled the phone away from her face, “Jack wants to know if you can move it a little to the right? There is a ridge I'd like to see over.”

“No problem,” Mac said. He nudged the camera an inch or two, breaking the bark to do so. “Better?”

“How's that look?” she asked, but got no answer. “Hey, Jack, does it look better?”

“Get out of there,” Jack replied.

“Calm down, we're leaving as soon as you're clear on the camera.”

“The camera is fucking clear and I'm telling you to get out of there now.”

Mac stood up on the branch. “Everything okay?”

“He's freaking out about something,” she called up to him.

Mac looked out the direction of the camera. “I think I see the deer that hit the tree. I think it's...”

He didn't finish because the branch he was leaning on snapped. After another look over the ridge and he jumped out of the tree, hitting the ground hard and rolling back around to his feet. Mac grabbed her lilac filled hand and ran for the treeline.

Jack was yelling in her ear, “There's a god damn bear over there. I don't know if it's cracked or not. Just go!”

“There's a bear?” she asked both men.

“Big, black, cracked-bear,” Mac answered. “Chewing on deer parts. Looked right at me.”

A growl came over the ridge. Sydney looked back and saw the cracked-bear for the first time. A rip ran from the snout to the top of its head. Another up the left leg and wrapped around to the stomach. There was deer hide still hanging from one corner of blood stained teeth.

Sydney picked up speed, better matching Mac now. They reached the ATV before the cracked-bear broke the treeline. Mac went for the seat, but Sydney opened the box.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“That thing is just going to follow us to town.” She pulled the bundle of lilac out, threw pieces around them.

“Just get the fuck over the fence,” she heard Jack from the phone. Sydney ended the call, not needing another panicking voice right now.

The cracked-bear galloped out of the trees. Mac took one shot from the ATV seat and clipped a shoulder, but the thing kept coming. About ten feet from the ring of lilac, the creature slammed to a halt. Growling at the ground, it began pacing back and forth.

“What is happening?” Mac asked.

“They don't like the smell of lilac.” They had put the fact out to the public as soon as they'd discovered it, but there were so many people online shouting theories that information was lost fast.

“How did you figure that out?”

“Can we take care of this first?” Sydney pulled her gun and lined up a shot, trying to match the pace the cracked-bear had. She sent one shot through its jaw, but it stayed up.

Mac's second hit was between the eyes. They watched the creature stumble a few more steps away from the lilac before falling. Both were still for a moment, in case it tried to get up.

“So, the lilac thing,” Mac finally broke the silence.

Sydney tucked the gun away with a shaking hand, but went in to the story. “We were in the process of getting a fence up around the town, but there were open patches. Mrs. Miller came out her back sliding door with headphones in and a bunch of lilacs in her hand. They were for her patio table, she was having a nice lunch with her kids. Standing at the end of her patio was a cracked-dog. She panicked and threw what she had in her hand.

“The thing backed away from the lilacs. Stared it down. Mrs. Miller got back inside and told her kids to call someone to come take care of it. She pulled out her phone and filmed as the cracked-dog stood ten feet away from the bundle, growling. A couple times it moved around, trying to escape the smell and still get to her, but ran out of time before my brother got there.

“We're thinking to start trying to encourage people to try growing some inside their homes, a couple types work in those conditions. That way everyone might have some in case of an extreme emergency. For now we just order a large amount through a florist in town. Anytime I go out to the fences I have a bit with me.”

“That's pretty incredible.” He was staring at the carcass.

Sydney pulled her phone out again, Jack was already calling again. She answered, “We're fine. We got it.”

“Was it cracked?”

“Yep. Never heard of a cracked-bear before.”

“Jesus.”

“Come on out with a couple guys, bring lots of kindling. This is going to be a big fire.” She ended the call.

Mac squatted down to pick up a stem of lilac. “What's with these flowers?”

“We couldn't believe it without the video. It's on YouTube, you can see it. Unless you think Mrs. Miller was paid off by the lilac industry to raise profits.”

“No, I believe you. There was something that woman said. I'm trying to remember.”

“What woman?”

“The girlfriend of the head of Salvage Company. Met her at his house. She smelled like lilacs.”

“He let you in his house?”

“Wasn't invited really. Crashed a party he was throwing. What did she say? We'd been talking about the creatures. Someone pulled up pictures of some dead ones. She looked upset by the images. Somebody had asked what God might have meant by making these things. Other people were trying to be philosophical. She just said, 'God is bored with the world. God needed some of that old school wrath and bloodshed. Wanted to watch the world reshape itself to her new plan.'

“Yeah! She'd said 'her'. I thought she was a morbid chick. Maybe traumatized by what she knew her boyfriend done. I'd thought to lean on her if I got close, but my cover was blown and I had to leave quick. Damn it, I need to find out who she is.”

“I shouldn't have told you the lilac thing. You realize how sketchy your entire story sounds, yeah?”

“We were getting close to some answers over in Richmond. There was a guy who'd owned a pound that sold it for crazy money to some private buyer eight months ago. That's about how long ago cracked-creatures started showing up around this area right?”

“Jesus, now this pound guy is a culprit?”

Mac stood and came back toward her and the ATV. “No! Just unknowingly sold them the space to grow a batch of these things and let them loose as they get old enough. We came in a little louder than I intended and had a pretty quick exit. They had us going for-”

“No, no. Stop. I'm done. I can't go along with this story anymore.”

Her head couldn't handle any more of his story. Sydney's day was filled with constant dread of finding one of those creatures on the fences, which she'd done today. Or worse yet, breaking into her town at a weak spot, which that cracked-bear could have done. Jack and herself put in near endless hours of work to keep this town moving smoothly. They wanted to give people a safe place to live a near normal life and forget as often as they could that the world was falling prey to some ungodly creatures. They made this town work, but her efforts couldn't go past those gates. Not like they had today.

Mac leaned against the side of the ATV. “I told you all this because I thought you'd believe me. Or at least see some of the sense of it. You're smart Sydney, I know that from watching how you run this place. I do admit it sounds a bit crazy at first, but I do have some proof. If you come back to the house, I can show you.”

“No, thank you. I have this to take care of.” She waved to the dead cracked-bear. “That's enough for me.”

“Tonight then. Come over. Or I'll bring it to your place.”

“No, no you will not. My dad hears your talking like that you'll be thrown out of this town faster than you all drove in.”

“He can't be that ignorant of what's going on out there. How bad it's getting.”

“We're not out fighting some conspiracy war. We're not hunting for the root of all evil. We are just trying to survive this shit show. Make it out with our little town in as much of one piece as we can.”

“And if we stop them from making more, we can stop all of this. Just like you said earlier.”

Sydney caught sight of the gate swinging open again. Two ATVs and a truck with a bed full of kindling pulled out and turned their way. “I need to make sure my home is secure first. Then, just maybe, I'll come listen to you.”

Mac looked pleased. “We've got these doc-”

“Mac, no. Stop for now, please. I don't want anyone else hearing this theory of yours. Not till you convince me to believe it.”

“What if you don't?”

She frowned at him. “Then you're going to have to leave my town. I'm sorry, it's a bitchy move, but I have to look after my people first. If you just seem like a crackpot, I need you gone. You and your people.”

“We don't have a car yet.”

Sydney watched the vehicles get closer. “I'll make one happen.”

“Kevin is pretty banged up still.”

“Then you best be damn convincing later.”

Rodger, driving the truck, slowed down before the ATVs, giving himself room to turn around and back up closer to the cracked-bear. Jack pulled his ATV up right next to her and Mark was right behind him. No one bothered with a hazmat suit this time. They threw the small branches on top of the creature and poured gasoline over it all. Sydney wanted to watch it all burn, but the smell was too strong for her and she still had the rest of the fence to check over. Mac almost insisted to come along, but let her go saying he'd catch a ride with Rodger back into town. No doubt he was eager for her decision and, honestly, so was she.

[carnationbooks]

Author Interview - marswithghosts

We’re going to continue our series of interviews with fandom authors with this conversation with Check, Please! author @marswithghosts. We were really excited to chat with this author, who has written several popular fics in this month’s featured fandom!

Check out marswithghost’s fic on AO3 here!(http://archiveofourown.org/users/marswithghosts/pseuds/marswithghosts)

How did you first get into fandom? What was your first fandom?

I didn’t realize I was in a fandom until I was maybe fourteen or so? Fifteen? Because I think my first fandom was probably Animorphs when I was 8-10, then I got into Harry Potter, anime in high school (Gundam Wing, my love), then probably Supernatural and then Check, Please!. I sort of fell into everything by accident, just about! I’ve always had a huge imagination for things, and I’ve always wanted to be more involved with the media I consume. So I think that’s probably how I got into it. I started thinking, “What if this were to happen? Or this? Why isn’t this in the book? I want to read it.” And then I would just write it for myself at first. I didn’t start posting any of my fic until I was on fanfiction.net in early high school. Don’t go looking for it—it’s pretty…awful…

Other than writing fic, do you participate in any other fandom activities such as drawing fan art, podfic, gif making, meta, cosplaying, etc?

I legitimately have no other skills besides writing, to be honest with you. I enjoy everything from everyone else, but I am not a big contributor to fandom besides the writing itself! I have lots of friends who have cosplayed, drawn great art, made gifs, and their meta is so complex and interesting…but that ain’t me.

What inspired you to start writing fic?

I’ve always been a writer, ever since I was in about first grade. I enjoyed writing, I liked exploring my imagination, and I didn’t realize that what I was writing at first was fan fiction. When I wrote about myself being an Animorph, I never knew that was any different from any other kind of writing. It was only when I got into Harry Potter and Gundam Wing that I discovered fanfiction.net and started realizing that “fanfiction” is when characters belong to someone else but the words and the story are totally mine. This is always what got me interested in Alternate Universes—damn near everything I write is AU, and I probably enjoy writing AUs the most.

What is your favorite thing you have written so far?

Sheesh, this is a hard one. Honestly? Totally honestly? Probably A Little Bit Closer in Check, Please! fandom. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written in my life, and so much of it is really *mine*. It made me realize, hey—I actually *can* do a novel if I really want to. And so I am now working on an original novel.

What is your favorite fic by someone else?

There are a lot of them—too many to even comprehend at this point, honestly. My actual real-life fiancée is @annundriel​ (Ed. note: Annundriel on AO3), and I’ve always enjoyed her writing from way back in our Supernatural days. I think she has a really poetic way with words and imagery while staying very genuine and honest to the source material. I think that’s a really impressive feat that I’ve never been able to get the hang of…which is why I just make AUs :)

How did you get into Check Please?

This is actually embarrassing. I didn’t want to read the comic at all. But annundriel started reading it and gushed about it so much and showed me all these things that made absolutely no sense (there’s a character whose actually named Shitty?), but then I finally read it…and I fell in love with it…and she started writing fic and I loved her fic…and then I went on AO3 and found more fic…and then I wrote my own fic…and here I am a year later.

What pairings do you like to read in this fandom? What pairings do you like to write? Do you read gen fic?

My favorite pairings are Zimbits, Dex/Nursey, and—I have to admit this—Kent/Javier Martinez (my OC) (Ed. note: The fic is if this isn’t nice, i don’t know what is). I also like Kent/Tater as well! I’ll read just about anything if I like the writing, though, so I’m more willing to branch out now than I used to be even six months ago. As far as writing…I prefer Zimbits and Kent/Tater, Kent/Javier. I like doing Dex/Nursey, but still struggle with those characterizations; the others feel most natural to me. For gen fic: I would totally read gen fic, but I’m more inclined toward the ships. If it’s recommended to me by someone I trust, I’ll read anything.

What's your favorite fic trope?

Lord, there are so many. Fake dating, accidentally falling in love, tol and smol, etc. I also love coffee shop AUs, any customer service AUs (where’s the call center AU? oh right, that’s a WIP I’ve got…) Can you tell how I feel about AUs.

Do you ever get writer's block? What do you do to combat it?

I get writer’s block all the time. And with my anxiety, I also get panic attacks for sometimes no reason. When I get writer’s block, it’s intense. I have a lot of negative feels of worthlessness and self-doubt. When I was in grad school for my MFA, I kind of couldn’t afford to have writer’s block, since I had deadlines and workshops and my grades were at stake. Lately what I’ve tried to do is impose deadlines on myself—for example, I knew with my Kent/OMC story I wanted to post it for the very beginning of 2017. So I basically told myself “Okay, you’re going to get this done because you can,” and I went from there. Now what I do is I try to write by hand. I have several fancy notebooks and I’m currently obsessed with fountain pens and inks, so handwriting is enjoyable and soothing. It makes me want to put ink on the page so I can watch the pretty colors. This helps my anxiety a lot because I don’t feel quite as pressured as I do when I’m sitting at my computer and staring at a blank page. I’m so long-winded with my stories, even the short ones, that computer writing gets daunting really fast.

Do you have any recs for us to share with our readers?

— Because I’ve been so focused on my own writing, taking control of my mental health (and my physical health in general—yay for great employer health coverage), and playing video games (who’s ready for Mass Effect Andromeda?), I haven’t been reading as much fic lately. But I do have a list I’d done here: http://marswithghosts.tumblr.com/post/146909969360/wahs-into-ur-inbox-do-you-have-any-fanfic-recs And I super hard stand by those fics as well! So good. This fandom is tremendously talented and funny and brightening. I’m pleased to be a part of it.

We want to thank @marswithghosts again for such detailed and thoughtful answers to all our questions. One thing we love about this interview series is finding the similarities in how people tend to “find” fandom, while also getting unique perspectives about what fandom represents to each individual person. We hope you all enjoyed this perspective as much as we did. 

[deckthehollss-blog1]

Email Advertising And Marketing Lesson (3 )

Email Advertising and marketing LessonI moved into a brand-new workplace recently as well as was unpacking when I recognized I was fading quick and needed a caffeine fix. Appears my Starbucks coffee device had obtained shed with the movers. I panicked." residential doors Weatherford OK what?" I believed. I had never gone a full afternoon without a latte. I understood something would certainly happen if I didn't get one, and it would possibly be the example that would create my specialist, so skipping my caffeine solution was not an alternative. I currently had two pages of issues we were covering. I guess the unboxing would certainly need to be placed on hold.I established my Starbucks radar on full sharp and also complied with the route of laid-back organisation clothes. Indeed, 2 blocks later I located a Starbucks on the edge. As I drew open the door, a little gent whisked in under my arm. And that is exactly how I fulfilled Mr. Pibs.Mr. Pibs had actually been coming to that certain Starbucks considering that it opened up. Every mid-day regarding the very same time as my existing 'mind fade,' he also needed a solution. We got our coffees as well as made our means to the comfortable chairs.Mr. Pibs told me he remained in wholesale animal products and also had his own manufacturing facility. He launched 25 years ago with a small shop in his garage and currently leased a 200,000 square foot center and also used over fifty employees. We drank our coffees as well as chatted regarding company. I asked him exactly how he marketed his products to prospective retail outlets."We have a subscriber-based newsletter," he claimed. "About 2500 quality family pet stores throughout the United States."I was impressed! 2500 leads does not seem like much but these stores had asked to be gotten in touch with. The shops were real, prospective customers looking for product. "So do you keep in touch month-to-month or do you find seasonal jobs much better?" I delicately asked."Regular monthly!" Mr. Pibs said loudly in horror. "That would be $50,000 of postage a year! No, we send our full color sales brochure on a yearly basis, costs us about $4000 in mailing charges. I draw a couple of girls off the setting up line and also get them licking stamps as well as stuffing envelopes. We've been doing our advertising similar to this given that the second year we started. Certain is fantastic that printing is a whole lot cheaper nowadays. Conserves us a bundle!"I gagged on the foam in my cup and also really felt an acquainted feeling come over me. Prior to I knew it I was standing and swing my arms around my head in big circles."Mr.Pibs, are you ridiculous?" I chewed out the top of my lungs, and started to tirade, arms swing. "What marketing cave did you simply creep out of? Why not put your brochure online? Why not make use of a normal Email Advertising campaign to communicate with the family pet stores regularly? Are you anti-technology? Why are on planet are you sending out all that stuff by mail?." And also then I realized I rarely understood this man as well as was essentially informing him he was a buffoon. But I didn't have time to compose myself because at that very minute, when I was in mid-sentence of my Email Marketing tirade, in walked my grandmother.Crap! I had actually forgotten Grammy was going to satisfy me at my new workplace! She promptly identified me as well as made a beeline in my direction. As she got closer I discovered she had a very strange looking hat on her head. It was all bumpy and sort of appeared like a bag. I observed an acquainted looking tag: Victoria's Secret.Since when did Victoria's Secret make hats?But I did not have time to ask, I had to make Grandmother believe we were expected to meet at the Starbucks and I likewise had to make up quick with Mr. Pibs before my brand-new close friend assumed I was a lunatic.I looked to Mr.Pibs, as well as discovered he was frozen, mouth hanging open in shock at my Email Advertising, arm swing, soapbox speech.Grandma got hold of the uninhabited seat next to Mr. Pibs and plunked herself down, scooching her behind, frantically trying to get it past the arm rests.Mr. Pibs defrosted and also whispered in scary, "That females has a set of underclothing-- on her head."And also indeed my Grandma did without a doubt have a set of Victoria's Secret undergarments on her head, hiding a mass of curlers.I gasped."Child," my granny said, "I have actually been looking almost everywhere for you!" Noticing Mr. Pibs, as well as not aware he and I had been having a discussion, Grandma looked a little alarmed at my little frozen pal. Not a surprise; the lack of color in his face was tough to miss. "Tiny man," she said, "You look ill, is the coffee as well solid for your tiny tummy?""Granny," I spoke gradually, transforming toward Mr. Pibs. "This is my brand-new pal, Mr. Pibs." : "Mr. Pibs, I apologize for my Email Advertising tirade, this is my Grammy. We had a coffee day this afternoon."My grandmother extended her hand in a motion of welcome. Mr.Pibs rested still, looking at my grandma's hair curler cover."Woman, why is there underclothing on your head?""Oh this?" she claimed, as she whipped off the over-stretched skivvies, discovering a selection of pink and white curlers. "These are old and also all extended of form from too many years on the rear. This pair functions wonderful to keeps my curlers in position. I upgraded to organic cotton underclothing years ago."As well as with that said we, or instead Grandma and also Mr. Pibs, laughed as well as talked away the afternoon. Those two hit it off so well I located myself a little bored. Simply as well, I could not obtain Mr. Pibs"advertising and marketing method' out of my mind. Well, at the very least the United States post office would certainly not go out of company anytime soon with Mr. Pibs around. I rested there enjoying those two laugh it up, as well as drank my head in shock at my granny's Victoria's Secret curling iron coverer. Mr. Pibs' advertising and marketing strategy was a whole lot like those underclothing. Old, unfit, and all drooped out.I fulfilled Mr. Pibs once again for coffee (without the interruption of Grammy as well as her head gitch) as well as stated to him that any type of company that was not energetic online as well as making use of Email Advertising and marketing may wish to retire. He concurred that his whole method must be placed in a remainder residence. It was type of challenging explaining all that Email Advertising and marketing things to Mr.Pibs; he was an actual Email Advertising and marketing newbie.I battled for a little bit with examples as well as realized the photo of those droopy undergarments on my Grandma's head was a best location to begin. I kept selecting the gonch theme and also Mr. Pibs gradually began to recognize the difference in each sort of Email Advertising method. We talked Email Advertising and marketing method and exactly how a cabinet filled with a variety of undergarments styles was genuinely the most effective alternative for complete marketing support.If you are having a difficult time explaining Email Marketing to your antique boss or your customers, feel totally free to try out several of these. They worked with Mr. Pibs so I make certain they will certainly help you.Broadcast Messages are like Bands: These little numbers function excellent at introducing, "Hey take a look at me, look at all the things I need to use ... today!" You do wish to exercise some restraint, nevertheless. Much like you do not wish to be using a thong everyday, neither would you send a broadcast message everyday.Auto-Responders are like Complete Figured Female's Petty Pants: If you are not up on full-figured minor pants, they look extra like a pair of long tight shorts. Large figured women use minor trousers to stop the upper legs from rubbing with each other. In a similar way, auto-responders protect against the chafing away of your time and sources because of answering the same questions over and over as well as over. Female's minor pants make all numbers, regardless of dimension, resemble a million bucks. Auto-Responders make you look like a hero with prompt practical feedbacks despite if it is simply you running the program or a whole office packed with customer care reps.Regularly Delivered E-Newsletters are like 100% Cotton Briefs: For routine wear you can't defeat a set of 100% cotton briefs and also for client retention you can't beat a consistently delivered e-newsletter. Every person prefers a various cut of brief relying on the amount of desired coverage, and it's no different in the e-mail world. Every business has a various idea of what their normal e-zine will cover and also what type of promo it will offer their products and services.Mr. Pibs and also I still meet at the Starbucks once a week or so for our mid-day caffeine repair. His firm has actually truly taken off because he got on board with Email Advertising. I assume he will probably be moving right into a bigger warehouse in the New Year just to stay up to date with orders. He also released a new line of product (using e-mail, certainly)to commemorate - Pudgy Young puppy Petty Pants.And the notorious curler cover? We did not understand it till later on that day however Grandma's droopy underwear got left on the table at Starbucks together with a calling card I had actually taken out throughout my Email Advertising tirade. I question that discovered the saggy gonch? Would certainly I ever before discover? Would the discoverer of those skivvies come to be a future client? I'll maintain you uploaded if anything materializes.And me? My Starbucks coffee machine surfaced after 3 months of circumnavigating the western states yet I still locate my method down the block most afternoons. I have actually likewise been reworking my own regular email advertising project due to my decision to try a reduced cut short for routine wear. Revealing more product details is confirming to be very reliable. My conversion price suggests my customers are actually valuing the enhanced direct exposure I'm providing my products as well as services.Is your advertising and marketing technique a little sagged, over stretched and broken? Attempt Email Advertising and marketing on for dimension. It can be found in all type of cuts as well as designs assured to enhance your lower line. I observed a familiar looking label: Victoria's Secret.Since when did Victoria's Secret make hats?But I did not have time to ask, I had to make Granny assume we were intended to satisfy at the Starbucks and I also had to make up quick with Mr. Pibs before my brand-new good friend assumed I was a lunatic.I transformed to Mr.Pibs, as well as noticed he was frozen, mouth hanging open in shock at my Email Advertising and marketing, arm waving, soapbox speech.Grandma ordered the vacant seat next to Mr. Pibs and plunked herself down, scooching her behind, seriously attempting to obtain it past the arm rests.Mr. Old, out of form, as well as all drooped out.I met Mr. Pibs once more for coffee (without the distraction of Grammy as well as her head gitch) and also stated to him that any business that was not energetic online and also using Email Marketing could desire to retire. It was kind of difficult clarifying all that Email Advertising things to Mr.Pibs; he was an actual Email Advertising newbie.I had a hard time for a bit with examples as well as recognized the picture of those droopy underclothing on my Granny's head was an ideal area to begin. I kept going with the gonch theme and also Mr. Pibs gradually started to comprehend the difference in each type of Email Marketing technique. We talked Email Advertising method and also just how a drawer full of a variety of underwear designs was absolutely the finest alternative for total advertising and marketing support.If you are having a challenging time discussing Email Advertising and marketing to your antique employer or your customers, feel totally free to attempt on some of these.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME !!

STAGE I | PART VIII ( back to the future is bullshit? ) → with tony and clint now in attendance, things are able to heat up for real as the group tests their time travel to see if the new quantum suits will work. aka, this is a make or break moment for the time heist.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL COMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

TONY: Tony strutted through the facility, dragging pieces of equipment that went from over his shoulder onto the floor. He passed Thor, giving him a wink, and then continued on over to the talking furball. “Ratchet!” He shouted as he got closer. “How’s it going?”

ROCKET:  “it’s rocket!” he corrected him, mildly threatening him with the wrench in his hands. “and take it easy, you’re only a genius on earth pal!”

RHODES: The whole thing was a little crazy. Sure, Rhodey wore a suit of armor and flew around like  a living laser tag machine, but it was for a reason. Then again, the time travel was too. It was just a little hard to swallow. Seeing Lang in the mockup of the Quantum Suit with a Hulk on one side and a cybernetic alien on the other wasn’t as surprising as it once had been. “Time travel suit not bad.” He remarked as he entered the room.

SCOTT: Scott scrambled to take the Pym particles from Bruce's large green hands, "Hey hey hey! Easy-- easy!"

BRUCE: Bruce’s aggravatingly large thumbs were pushing the pym particles into Scott’s suit as if they were trying to fit an elephant into a dumbwaiter. “I’m being very careful,” he said with non-assuring confidence.

SCOTT: “No you’re being very hulky!”

BRUCE: He reared back, his voice rising defensively. “I am being careful!”

SCOTT: “These are Pym particles, alright?” he held up the vial for emphasis, “—and ever since Hank Pym got snapped out of existence, this is it! This is what we have. We’re not making any more!”

RHODES:  For a little man who was sometimes a regular sized man, Lang was flashing a lot of attitude. With his hands up in the symbolic ‘simmer’ gesture, Rhodey kept his voice even as he said, “Scott, calm down.”

SCOTT: “Sorry, we’ve got enough for one round trip each. That’s it, no do-overs— plus, two test runs,” he explained, placing the particles back in his own suit before accidentally activating the shrinking mechanism. Letting out a yell, he immediately returned to normal size, “One— test run." Hesitating another moment, Scott squeezed his eyes shut, fear coursing through his veins, "I'm not ready for this..."

RHODES: Rhodey just hung his head in an exasperated defeat.

CLINT: "I'm game," Clint responded, reclining against the doorway, "--I'll do it."

BRUCE: “Clint, now you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift. Don't worry about it.”

RHODES: Wait wait wait. Lemme ask you something.” Rhodey cut in partly as a thought crossed his mind. “If we can do this, y’know,” he gestured with his hands. “go back in time -- why don’t we just find baby Thanos, y’know and...” Unable to actually say it, Rhodey pantomimed tying a knot around a neck and pulling before holding his hands up in a what if?gesture.

BRUCE: Bruce got where Rhodes was coming from, but his charade was a little gruesome. “First of all, that’s horrible.”

RHODES: “It’s Thanos.” He rolled his eyes.

BRUCE:  “And secondly,” he ran right over Rhodes’ rebuttal. “time doesn’t work that way. Changing the past doesn’t change the future.” He said so pointedly, as if it were obvious information.

SCOTT: “Look we go back, we get the stones before Thanos gets them, Thanos doesn’t have the stones—” Scott said matter of factly.

RHODES: Lang got it. Rhodey held out a hand in his direction to drive the point home.

SCOTT: "Problem solved."

CLINT: "Bingo--" Clint muttered, nonplussed.

NEBULA: “That’s not how it works.” Nebula interjected as she worked on calibrating the suit. She had been listening and let them ramble on and on, but they were stuck in a concept that was completely false.

CLINT: “Well, that’s what I heard.”

BRUCE: “Wh-what by who? Who told you that?”

RHODES: “Star Trek, Terminator, TimeCop, Time After Time -” Rhodey began ticking off the films on each finger.

SCOTT: "Quantum Leap?"

RHODES: The list went on. He continued: “A Wrinkle in Time, Somewhere in Time -” 

SCOTT: "Hot Tub Time Machine...?" Scott added.

RHODES: “Hot tub time machine!” He piggy backed off of Lang. “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.” There were a lot of options and Rhodey was growing more assured in his argument with hand motions to prove it. “Basically, any movie that deals with time travel.”

SCOTT:  "Die Hard?" He continued, before immediately revoking his suggestion, "--no, that's not one of them."

RHODES: ...And their streak was over. That was getting ignored. “This is known.”

BRUCE: He splayed his arms out behind him, “I don’t know why everyone believes that, but it isn’t true. Think about it. If you travel to the past-“ he animated his words with his hands. “That past becomes your future. And your former present becomes the past. Which can’t now be changed by your new future.” His words were laden with passion and points.

NEBULA: “Exactly.” Nebula nodded. Bruce was the only one making complete sense.

SCOTT: “So Back to the Future’s a bunch of bullshit—?” Scott blinked, incredulous.

BRUCE: They were all standing around the platform now, eagerly anticipating the results of Tony’s additions. Clint was at the forefront, more than ready to take a mission that could end with him stuck in no man's land, or dead. “Okay Clint, we’re going in 3…2…1!”

CLINT: Bruce’s countdown ended, the Quantum tunnel whirred to life and Clint jumped— his body shrinking to sizes incomprehensible to the average human. What seemed like seconds later, the archer reappeared, breathing heavily and visibly shaken.9:01 PM

NATASHA: The second the machine stopped whirring and it was safe Natasha was leading the group as she ran up the ramp onto the - for lack of a better word - time machine. Her friend was on his knees and none of the sounds he was making sounded pleasant so she instantly dropped to his level and grabbed the quantum suit covered shoulders of Clint. “heyheyhey, look at me.” she took his face with her hands as the both stood. “Are you okay?” One hand tapped at his chest to try and center him.

Clint: He waved the baseball glove at Natasha mumbling, "It worked," before turning to the others, more confident now, "It worked."

[magicinherbones-blog]

Regaining our Pulse

It was graduation night for the group of cosmetologists at the hair school I work at, and I was unsure of how the night would unfold. Was I going to go out and celebrate? Was I going to meet up with the now graduates and some of the educators? Nothing out of the norm for a graduation night, but my friend, Ana, was visiting. I found myself sitting on the couch with her and another close friend talking about life and just having one of those good deep thinking conversations. It was too late when I decided I needed to get home and my bed sounded like the best idea.

I tend to be an early riser, but I woke up later than usual that Sunday morning. I glanced at my phone and noticed a slew of notifications.

“Alex, just tell me you’re OK. I’m worried.”

“Alex, I just saw the news. Are you OK??”

“Hey, girl. Please tell me you and the students are OK??? Text me back!”

Missed call after missed call. I was being tagged in Facebook posts. What the hell was going on?? I got online and my heart sank. “Mass shooting at Pulse nightclub. Several confirmed dead”. I still get goosebumps. I frequented Pulse. Pulse could’ve been a stop last night while celebrating graduation. I live less than 10 minutes down the road. My mind started to race. Did anyone tell me they were going last night?? Is everyone I know OK?? I started to text everyone in my phone; panicked. The number of deaths was rising. It would later turn out that I did know family members and/or partners of some of victims.

I spent that morning watching live streams of news coverage. Crying. Sobbing. Then going into leadership mode. Trying to figure out if everyone I knew and loved was safe. Helping those I knew who didn’t know if their loved ones were OK. Then back to crying. I remember answering texts back letting people know I was OK and them replying, “Thank God!” I remember breaking down at one point and saying, ” I am thankful it wasn’t me. But for so many it was. And I can’t handle that thought.” I felt guilt. I felt extreme sadness. I felt confusion. Why? Why? Why?

Ana picked me up only a few hours later and we were on our way to figure out how to help. Mister Rogers once spoke about seeing scary things on the news and his Mom would say, “Look for the helpers. There is always someone who is trying to help.” I couldn’t keep sitting at home. I had to get out with my friend – we had to help.

The sun started to set and we had way too many donations at our site. Some of the people we met decided that we’d all pack up our cars and drive the donations to another location that had nothing. We figured the families of the victims could use everything we had. We were told to head into a room and to just start dropping off the things we had in the corner.

I walked into a cold, drab room with white tile floors. It reminded me of my elementary school’s cafeteria. There were tables all around the room with what appeared to be law enforcement officers, detectives, and social workers. People were sitting at the table with them describing their loved ones. Some looked dazed and confused. Some spoke quietly and sadly while others cried uncontrollably. “He wore a bracelet that he didn’t take off. It was gold.” I heard a woman say. “Did he have anything else that you’d recognize him by? Tattoos? Where on his body?” the lady helping asked. At this point, the victims’ bodies were still at Pulse and had yet to be identified. As I was walking out to grab another cart full of food and water, I saw a police officer confirming to a woman that her son had been identified in the club and he was deceased.

There’s something about witnessing that moment – a mother finding out her child is no longer alive. It’s almost like I could see her world crashing down around her, I could feel her heart beat stop and I could feel the air getting knocked out of her. I could feel her suffocation and feel her losing herself for a brief moment in time. I walked out and immediately started to cry to Ana who had also witnessed it. We didn’t realize where we were being told to go and that we were walking in on these intimate moments. The group agreed that we would stop walking in and out of that room and drop off our donations in another area.

I heard from a friend in law enforcement that the cops were struggling as they walked around the club trying to identify people. Hearing the victims’ phones go off. A room full of vibrations, ringing, alert tones. Their friends and family I’m sure texting and calling the same things I had woken up to that morning.

I walked into work Monday morning like a complete zombie. My friend and co-worker, Mark, walked into my office looking the same. We sat in silence for a few moments before we started to cry. I walked downstairs and a student walked up to me. I remember his hug, so tight and so scared feeling. I could feel him cry into me. All I could muster was, “I’m sorry. I am with you.” as I cried with him. We suspended class and had a day of wellness. Letting students cry, talk, create art, etc. I left early that day and went straight to the memorial. Holding my candle while the city mourned together; listening to 49 bells ring eerily in a somber downtown. Everywhere you turned in the city there was artwork, posters, stuffed animals, etc. There were people praying. There were people crying. There was music both upbeat and sad. It was beautiful and it was tragic.

I spent that week creating a list of therapists and grief counselors that could come out and speak to our students and staff. I was even able to have therapy dogs come out. Watching those golden retrievers march in with their little vests that say, “Please pet me. I’m here for you!��� will make you feel all kinds of things even if animals aren’t your thing.

Those sad, gloomy days turned into weeks. The city was one big memorial site. The news was filled with the stories and accounts of those who survived and the stories of those who didn’t. All social media platforms were remembering the 49. It was a while before “normal” crept back in. Our own Orlando kind of normal. Showing the world why we’re called The City Beautiful.

There’s not a day I drive past Pulse that I don’t see people there. For a place that holds such sadness, you find such calm there. There are groups that go to give free hugs, counseling, to just chat, etc.

I remember visiting one day and a lady saw me and started to cry harder than she already was. “I’m sorry, you look like Amanda. She died here. Do you know her? You look exactly like her. May I hug you?” I nodded and held her while she cried. We were meant to see each other that day. Those moments remind me that there is something bigger than us.

In a few days it will have been one year. 365 days. I can only imagine what those days have been like for those affected directly. Filled with grief. Filled with healing. Filled with nothingness and and filled with everything.

I’ve never sat down and wrote about Pulse. I tried many times, but I’d find myself too overwhelmed. This week I feel a lot of that sadness resurfacing. I feel that woman’s pain and yet I feel the numbness. That deafening, frightening quiet creeps in and I’m back to that day scrambling to help and seeing all those faces again.

There are hundreds more like me. Who have their own memory of that day. Their own experience on June 12th. Who have a deep love for Orlando like me.

This is our city. This is our community. Our hearts may have been broken a year ago, but we beam with pride to call this city home. There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be or any place else I’d want to call home.

I encourage you to read the stories of those there that night or who knew someone there: Dear World: Orlando

Take a moment to pick out an Act of Love this month and honor the 49:

You can find out how to volunteer here: One Orlando Alliance

You can learn more about the Pulse Memorial here: OnePULSE Foundation

I remember spending nights where I’d just say their names out loud anytime I saw the list. I think that something I’ve learned is that we can’t allow them to fade away. Remembering how important these individuals were and are. We mustn’t forget. Say their names:

Only the best Orlando love and light to you all. Forever, for always. Love, love, love.

[aaronbhope84]

A Tale of Two Windows

Betty’s Story

Hi my name’s Betty! You’re probably wondering, but yes, I am a window. A 6-over-6 double hung to be exact. I know it’s unusual to find a speaking window but there are a few of us around if you’re interested enough to hear our story.

Next week I’ll be turning the big 150. It used to be a lot of my friends and family lived to 150 but not so much anymore. Most of my old friends are long gone, but here I still sit taking in the beautiful views of the Charleston streets.

It’s one of my favorite hobbies you know, people watching. Oh I can sit for hours and watch the passersby both outside on the streets and my owners inside. And I do have to mention, I have some of the kindest owners. They’ve been with me for years! They give me a nice warm storm in the winter, screens in the summer, keep my glass clean, and keep my paint and putty touched up every couple years.

Things weren’t always this great here in Charleston. I’ve had a few owners who were not quite my taste to put it nicely. I even went 3 decades without so much as a coat of paint. That was a rough time for me.

I was almost certain I was headed to landfill that last year before they moved and I got my new owners. When they moved in I thought I was a goner for sure, but they saw something different. They saw the potential in me to be beautiful again, for my wavy glass to sparkle once more and they did it. They believed in me and I am not one to let them down after the love and care they showed me.

Sadly, I’m one of these few old-timers left on my block. Henry, Charles, Gordon, Mary, Helen, they’re all gone now. Just last week we lost Walter and Mildred too. Poor girl, she got the rot, and rather than treating her they replaced her and hauled off Walter at the same time even though he was perfectly healthy! Who does that?

Right next door to me is one of those replacement fellas. I think his name is Marv. He seems nice enough, even if he is a little full of himself. Keeps yammering on about “R-values” and “U-factors” though I still not quite sure what all that means. I haven’t gotten the nerve up to tell him he’s the 5th window to grace that opening. I don’t assume he’ll be around much longer than any of the others.

Once the originals are gone these new replacements don’t seem to stay long. 10-15 years is about all they last in the neighborhood before the new model shows up to replace the replacement. Seems like an awful waste to me.

They’ve certainly gotten fancy over the years, They used to be just simple aluminum but now some of these folks are double or triple paned glass (personally I think they need to trim down a bit). One fella even had blinds between his glass. Crazy!

Anyway, I could talk for hours if you let me. I won’t keep you any longer I’m sure you’ve got to get back to your family or work or some other thing you humans entertain yourselves with. If you ever want to stop by and chat I’ll be here. I’d be happy to tell you all about the old days. I love telling stories. Till then.

Marv’s Story

Hey there, Marv’s the name, saving energy’s the game! I see you were talking with Betty over there. Nice old gal isn’t she? Doesn’t really do much, but which of those old fogies do? They don’t understand the huge responsibilities us windows have today.

Sure we have to let in light and create a nice view for our owners, but job number one has to energy-efficiency. If we can’t cut these people’s energy bills then we might as well retire, right? And I don’t plan to retire for a long, long time.

I can outlast Betty no problem. Heck, by the time I’m 150 can you imagine how much money I would have saved these people? That’s crazy money right there! They told us in the factory you’re only as good as the money you make us. I’m assuming that means energy savings for the homeowner.

There is one old timer here in my house and he keeps telling me not to get too comfortable because I won’t be around long. What does he know? I’ve got an argon filled double paned IGU with a thermally broken vinyl frame. He’s just wood and putty. Putty boy ain’t got nothing on me!

I have to say these old windows don’t seem to have much respect for us replacements. We work really hard to save energy for our owners and I don’t understand why they don’t appreciate it. I’ve heard tell of some of the other guys I graduated from the factory with catching “foggy panes”. Couldn’t see a thing and end up getting themselves replaced. These guys peaked in factory and were just destined to burn out anyway.

You don’t think our makers would have built us to fail do you? That’s would be crazy with all the technology I’ve got. I should be the longest lasting window of all time, especially compared to the putty heads.

After all they don’t even have a warranty! I’ve got a 10-year warranty with full coverage. I’m not really sure why they only did 10 years since I’m jam packed with all this technology. But gotta trust my factory, right? They’ve got my owner’s best interests at heart I’m sure.

Well, enjoy your stroll. I’m sure I’ll see you next time you come around!

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