#ball mill operation

[labtroncc]

Benchtop Ball Mill

Labtron Bench-top Ball Mill features rubber-covered rollers driven by an electric motor, operating at 70-80 rpm for efficient roll-type milling. It minimizes noise and vibration, and its stable performance and simple structure ensure easy maintenance. A single grinding jar is subjected to circular motion on the roller.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

The Other Shoe Drops (part 21)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

As much as Jason and Danny did not want to get out of bed the day after their engagement, there were a lot of people who would be very upset if they found out about the engagement through the villain rumour mill, and Harley could not keep a secret like this. So after breakfast they turned their phones back on to start making calls, first to Alfred and Ellie, then Roy, then making their way down the line of various family and friends. They were ecstatic of course and Roy immediately started talking a mile a minute about planning an engagement party for both of them before forgetting to say goodbye before hanging up making them both laugh. 

Who knew when that party was coming and if it would be a surprise party (purposefully or because Roy forgot to tell them), but they were looking forward to it. Roy knew them both really well by then, he would do a good job.

“Should I be upset he just assumed he’s going to be my best man before I had the chance to ask?” Jason joked to Danny. 

“Hey if you don’t want him I’ll take him,” Danny said, draping himself casually across Jason’s lap, letting out a soft appreciative groan when the arch made his back pop a little.

“Fuck off, he’s mine,” Jason laughed shoving Danny’s shoulder, he didn’t budge an inch as he grinned up at Jason.

“Good, I want Harley as my best woman anyway,” Danny agreed easily. 

“She’ll do a great job, your bachelor party is going to be fucking wild!”

“Excuse you, it'll be my Bachelorette! And I’ll go with the Gotham Sirens,” Danny sniffed in lighthearted disdain. 

“Of course it will,” Jason chuckled indulgently. “Have a great time, Beloved. And when you do I hope you’ll wear the new gloves I made for you.”

“You made me new gloves?” Danny asked, eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

“Yes, I made us both new gloves, with bands carved into them so even when we have to wear our gloves over our rings people will know we���re taken,” Jason explained with repressed pride. 

“Aww you sap,” Danny teased with deep affection and pulled Jason down to kiss him  passionately. 

 ---------

They had a week to enjoy life as new fiances, they told all their friends and family and started discussing colours and potential venues. There would almost certainly be legal complications since Jason was pretty sure they were both legally dead, they’d have to hire lawyers to be officially married as Jason Todd and Danny Fenton, but they didn’t want to talk about that now. They were planning to have a long engagement anyway so for now they could just banter about if red was too cliche of a colour. 

But of course the universe wouldn’t let them get to their engagement party in peace before another one of the balls they had in their air dropped on their head. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Danny asked, dangerously soft into the phone. The tone immediately catching Jason’s attention from across the room. He got up and went to sit next to Danny, asking with his eyes if everything was okay. Danny gave him a look and shook his head slightly, then switched the phone to speaker so they could both listen. 

“-know how but they convinced the UN to have a meeting to hear them out. They’re pushing back much harder against the Justice League than we expected and want to prove ghosts are a threat and they’re methods are justified. We didn’t expect them to have enough resources to do anything like this, especially with our more covert operations ongoing.”

At least the voice coming out of the phone was J’onn and the disdain dripped from his tone. Jason thought that if it had been any other member of the JL calling to warn them about this situation Danny might have gone into a full rage. J’onn knew how awful and triggering this was and made no attempt at neutrality like some might, he was fully on their side in this. 

“Ghosts aren’t a threat though. The last time they tried to prove that, Dan and I worked it out without causing any damage to anything. That’s better than most heroes,” Danny responded flatly. “Most people in the world don’t even believe in ghosts, how can they say we’re a threat if we make so little impact we’re not even a certainty!”

“I know, and we will tell them as much. We will do everything we can to make sure the UN sees the GIW for what they are, and no matter what they decide I swear we will not allow their actions to continue unchecked. The Justice League is Moral, not lawful,” J’onn assured the two of them firmly. “I just wanted to ask you permission to use the presentation you gave to the Justice League to give a more human face to the real harm the Ghost Investigation Ward has done.” 

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll attend the meeting,” Danny said flatly.

Silence weighed heavy in the gentle electrical static of the phone, louder than usual in response to Danny’s anger. “I… Am not sure that would be wise,” Martian Manhunter said as gently and reasonably as any parent. 

“I don’t care if it’s wise this is my people we’re talking about J’onn. Someone should be there to represent them, and I think it had better be me rather than Dan or Ellie. She’s too young and he’s… well, Dan.”

Jason could feel J’onn’s hesitation through the phone as he tried to come up with an argument. “I assure you we will represent your case, and Deadman will be in attendance. But I just-”

“J’onn you can’t keep me out. Will it look better if me and Jason show up with you or if we crash the party?” Danny cut in impatiently.

J’onn sighed heavily through the phone, and Jason winced sympathetically, he suspected the Martian had one hell of a headache brewing. “I believe I’ll let you decide your own path,” J’onn said delicately. 

“Thank you, Sorry in advance J’onn. I have a feeling this is going to suck, for all of us,” Danny said. 

“Yes, I am sorry too Hyena. This is not how any of us wanted this to go,” J’onn lamented, and hung up without saying goodbye. He still sometimes forgot human politeness, and the conversation was clearly over.

Danny dropped his phone on the couch and immediately crawled into Jason’s lap and hid against Jason’s chest. When Jason wrapped his arms around Danny he could feel the smaller man trembling violently. Jason made a sympathetic noise and held him close, rocking them both slowly as Danny let out an involuntary wounded-animal whine.

“Breath Baby, breath,” Jason crooned when Danny started to hyperventilate. He couldn’t fast track through this panic attack, Danny needed to work through his feelings, no matter how much it hurt Jason to see his lover like this. It wasn’t, and couldn’t be, about him right now.

They rode out the waves of panic together, with Jason supporting and holding Danny together, and even once Danny was calm again they didn’t separate. Danny lay against Jason’s chest, his breathing slow and deep almost as if he was asleep though Jason knew he wasn’t. He was just too exhausted to panic anymore, so Jason waited for Danny to be ready to talk.

“Will you come with me?” The question softly muttered against Jason’s chest.

“Of course I will,” Jason agreed without hesitation. “I would never let you face this alone.”

“I have to go,” Danny insisted.

“I know Danny, I’m not going to try and stop you. You should be there. You have to know Ellie will probably come too though right? If anyone lets slip this is happening, if she finds out we won’t be able to keep her away, just like you.” Jason reminded, she was Danny’s clone after all. She was just as stubborn and selfless as he could be, and this was her fight too. 

Danny hesitated and sighed. “Well, let’s hope no one lets it slip to her, but be prepared for her to be there.”

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

Unsurprisingly they weren’t invited to the UN meeting, and no one communicated with them about it anymore. But that didn’t matter, Jason may not have been as good of a hacker as Timmy but he had still been a robin and he knew his way around a security system. They could have asked Tim for help, but that increased the channels through which Ellie might learn about the meeting and they didn’t want that, so Jason just did it himself and found out where and when they’d need to go to crash the party.

They didn't bother to go through the front door when they crashed the meeting. They wouldn't be let in anyway so they skipped the scene they would inevitably cause at the door and just walked through the wall and into the hall where the leaders were already gathered. They were dressed in full Red Hood and Hyena garb, they had considered coming as Jason and Danny, but Jason was still protective enough of his identity that he would rather not and Danny hadn’t fought him on that.

“Don't mind us,” Danny said cheerfully, waving away the ripple of fearful and angry murmurs that spread through the room. “This decision will affect both of us since we’re both flavours of undead, so we’re here to see how it goes,” Hyena said cheerfully. 

“So have I,” Said a familiar voice from closer to the ceiling.

Danny’s shoulders tensed for just a moment when he heard Ellie’s voice but then he forced himself to relax and turned towards her as she swooped down to join them. “And my little sister Phantasm is here too! Just be glad we didn’t also bring our big brother as well.”

“We don’t have any chairs for you,” Diana told them with gracious resignation, accepting but not condoning their presence. 

“That’s alright, we’ll stand. Or float in her case I suppose,” Hood said, gesturing casually to Ellie when she hovered next to him.

“Right, well, let’s carry on,” Diana sighed, turning back towards the podium.

“What? No! We can’t continue with them here. They are violent and dangerous creatures, it’s like casually having a meeting while there’s a bomb in the room!” One of the GIW representatives blurted. And to his credit, he did seem genuinely scared, maybe he did actually believe the bullshit they were spewing. 

“They are not, the justice league has worked with them multiple times. Phantasm is an established and well loved member of the Teen Titans and Hyena has been an invaluable consultant and ally when we’re in need.”

“Ya, like when you people purposefully released Dan from his containment before he was ready in hopes he would go on a rampage to add some legitimacy to your crackpot theories,” Hyena piped up helpfully. 

“Hyena, that is conjecture, we have no proof that they did that,” Batman warned, low and gentle. 

“Ya, except that they totally did right?” Danny said, getting a scowl for his trouble. He held up his hands in defeat. “Alright, I’ll shut up. Please carry on.”

Everyone continued to shoot nervous looks in their direction, besides the members of the Justice League who were forging ahead and forcing everyone around to keep up or get left behind, which no one could afford. So they carried on the debate with the JL going first, presenting the information they had on ghosts, and the evidence of the GIWs crimes. The evidence was extensive, if the world leaders believed that ghosts were sabient, or even could just feel pain, there would be no doubt about their unethical actions.

Hyena, Red Hood, and Phantasm managed to stay quiet, even while they showed the presentation Danny had made to show the JL. It was Ellie’s first time seeing it, but Danny was so proud of how well she held it together! When he wrapped an arm around her he could feel her trembling a little and her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but she kept a stiff upper lip and she didn’t make a sound. He wondered if it was cold to hope her emotion would play well to their audience. 

Unfortunately the worst was still to come, because the GIW had to present their case against ghosts, though Danny had no idea how the hell they were going to try to justify their actions. Danny had stopped breathing already because it helped suppress the rising panic as the GIW were called to present. Ellie had stopped breathing as well, and on his other side he could hear Jason breathing fast and shallow, the only one who still needed to breath betraying their collective fear. Danny hated that he caught himself practically praying to Clockwork that this would go well. Surely if this was going to go badly he would have interfered right? He’d done it before.

The GIW agent, a professional looking woman wearing a white dress suitable for business rather than the usual cheap looking white suit, walked to the stand, her white heels clicking ominously on the wood floor. She carried a small stack of notecards and a usb, the contents of which Danny absolutely dreaded. He did not want to know what footage they had, what ‘experiments’ they’d done that they would bring up today. He just hoped neither he or Ellie would have a panic attack.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed leaders. My name is Amy Watson, called agent W, and I’m here to present on behalf of the GIW,” The woman said as she put down her things. “You have heard a lot today about what our organization has done, none of which I will deny. Because it would be foolish to do so with the evidence presented. The Justice League have done their research, and with the information they have I’m sure they’re being genuine. However I suspect  they have been manipulated as well because you were told what we did, but not why, and we stand by all our actions no matter how gruesome they first appear.”

She plugged in her usb and pulled up a clip and Danny sucked in his breath when he recognized himself in the thumbnail, from before he was Hyena. It was a fight with Skulker, there had been no casualties but the show of force was impressive. Then that bitch Penelope Spectra, she really was a piece of work worthy of trying to prove ghosts were evil. Finally him again, as Hyena, fighting Dan, there were no casualties in that fight either but damn did it look bad. And last but certainly not least, footage of them in Penguins bar, which was much worse.

Wait, how did they have the fight? Penguin had cameras but he wouldn’t have given the footage to a government organization. And how would they have even known that would happen unless. Danny inhaled sharply and leaned into Jason’s side. It had been them, they had organized the whole thing for the same reason they had let Dan out. They were hoping that if Jason died Danny would go on a rampage retroactively justifying all the shit that they had done, and even if they hadn’t gotten the rampage they wanted the fact that Danny had actively killed a human in that fight did not look good. 

“Looks like we owe Penguin an apology,” Danny murmured to Jason who scoffed, but nodded.

“Ghosts are incredibly powerful and unkillable by all conventional weapons. They cannot be stopped by even the most advanced of our earth security systems. Without specially developed weapons they are unstoppable, and as those videos show, they are capable of tremendous harm. It is our firm belief that ghosts are simply the imprint people left behind, an emotionless echo no more capable of feeling pain than a recording. But even if it could be proven that they have feeling and thought, and that’s a big If, what we do would still be more than justified in the name of global, maybe even universal defense. 

“Through our experiments, and yes, a few sacrifices, we have been able to develop weapons, shields, and restraints that work on these beings. If it comes down to it, we might just be capable of defending our planet against these extra-dimensional threats now.”

“With all due respect ma’am earth does have defenses against this sort of threat,” Deadman spoke, floating into a standing position and nodding to those around them. “I have been part of a branch of the Justice League known as Justice League Dark for years, we have been in charge of handling all supernatural threats to this world and I assure you we have some very powerful members, capable servants of the public good.”

“Ya including me,” Hyena spoke up, gesturing to paused the video. “All three of those clips you saw involved me, either as I am now or when I was younger since I’ve been the GIW’s enemy number one for years. The first two fights involved no human casualties at all! Penelope Spectra- the spirit in the second clip, is a criminal who probably would have killed someone, but we have our own ways of dealing with our criminals and she is now serving a century in prison for her crimes. Brought to justice by myself and the ghost warden, Walker. The GIW have tried to paint us all with the same brush but we’re not all bad! There are bad ghosts like there are bad people, because ghosts are people, just dead ones.”

“I’m not sure that matters,” One of the world leaders mused, staring at the screen. “If ghosts are such a threat then we need a way to defend ourselves against them. Relying entirely on the Justice League is not always possible, or wise. Some of us might feel much more comfortable with the ability to defend ourselves.”

The Agent W nodded graciously, “Rightly so. Though the American Government has funded our efforts up until now we are willing to share information, or even set up branches in any countries willing to partner with us.”

“Wait, no, that is not what this meeting is about. It is to determine if the GIW and the US government are guilty of violating human rights laws and the meta-protection acts, not to get them new partnerships!” Diana interrupted with barely controlled rage.

“If they have, there are countries that would offer them sanctuary, because they value the safety of their own people over the hypothetical feelings of ‘ghosts’,” Someone else piped up in a tone of barely concealed disdain.

Danny could not believe what he was hearing! And judging from the way Ellie was trembling and Jason had clenched his fists they agreed. 

“You cannot be serious,” Martian Manhunter said. “This is another sovran species who has caused you so little trouble until now that most of you didn’t even believe they were real and you're willing to condone war crimes against them? Outside of an active war zone? Just because they have not been officially declared sapient does not excuse this especially when no independent tests have been done!”

“They’re hardly a sovran species, at best they're a bunch of thugs but truly, they're little more than animals.” Agent W dismissed. “And I assure you we have conducted extensive experimentation, all of our notes have been made available to you to look over for yourself. Please feel free to come to your own conclusions.”

“Conclusions from biased and unethical “Science” are bound to be just as biased and unethical,” Batman added in his low familiar rumble. But Danny wasn’t sure how many people had heard him, there was sounds of paper rustling around the room as leaders started to look through whatever research the GIW had provided. Things were quickly starting to devolve into bickering and whispers, the facade of dignity and poise quickly cracking and falling away.

Danny did not like the way this was going, the JL was losing control of the audience. Fear was a stronger motivator than righteousness and the GIW had a lot of practice in making people afraid. Maybe it was time to give them something else to fear.

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Please note new TWs in red!!! Reader is Mando's bounty, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, intimidation, physical abuse (not perpetrated by Din or reader), discussions of slavery and indentured servitude, power dynamics, trauma

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Three days later found the Razor Crest descending through the atmosphere of a planet quite unlike any you had ever seen. It was just barely sunset local time, and endless plains of black, volcanic rock and charcoal sand stretched out before you, painted in hues of red and gold as the sun sank in the pale sky. The matte black surface was broken up by a complex spiderweb of lava rivers, flowing almost too slowly to be perceived, throwing jets of steam into the air. Nestled in the valley of two large rock formations, a sprawling settlement of whitewashed buildings and colorful market stalls poured into the surrounding flats. A small spaceport could be seen just on the edge of it all, marked by glowing outlines of designated landing zones and manned by a variety of staff in yellow jumpsuits milling about the place.

“So that’s it, huh?” you asked from your spot in one of the co-pilot’s chairs at the rear of the cockpit. “That’s Nevarro?”

Mando nodded once, the bright light of the setting sun reflecting off the beskar dome of his helmet. “Yes.”

You brought your hand up to block the light from your squinting eyes. “Quite an operation. It’s bigger than I expected.”

“Most of what you see is a relatively recent development,” he explained. His gloved hands moved expertly, almost absent-mindedly over the landing controls, bringing the Crest into a steeper decline as you approached the landing zones. “The people in charge have become pretty invested in turning this place into a major trade center. Sure is a step up from the back-water Guild town it used to be. Looks like they’ve done even more with it since the last time I was here.”

“But your Guild agent is still based here?”

“Last I heard, he made himself ‘magistrate,’” he said wryly. You could hear the dry amusement in his voice even through the vocoder.

An answering smile tugged at your mouth, and you let out a soft laugh. You supposed it wasn’t entirely uncommon for members of the Bounty Hunters Guild to end up in positions of power. It was a lucrative profession, and credits could buy more than just material goods. Still, there was something entertaining about imagining a hardened Guild agent settling himself into the cushy life of a politician.

As the Mandalorian deftly settled the ship between the well-lit lines of the nearest landing zone, however, all of the good humor seemed to evaporate from your body, and anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach like a ball of lead.

This was it. Your time was up, for real this time.

“I need to go unload the others,” Mando announced, rising from the pilot’s chair.

You swallowed thickly, then nodded and stood, as well, Grogu in your arms like always. “What – what would you like me to – ”

“You’re not going with them,” the bounty hunter interrupted with a shake of his head. “I’m handing you over to Karga personally.”

You felt your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh. Okay. Sure,” you replied dumbly. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“You can come down into the cargo hold with me, but stay back from the rear doors. We’ll head into town once the other bounties are taken care of.”

You nodded and gestured for him to precede you down the ladder.

By the time you made it to the lower level with Grogu in tow, Mando had opened the rear blast doors, and the ramp was halfway extended to the dusty soil below. Before it could touch the ground, however, an unfamiliar face, bright and cheerful, popped up at the foot of it.

“Hey there, Mando! Long time, no see!” the man called out with a wave. His voice was chipper and warm, and he was dressed in one of those yellow jumpsuits you had noticed from the air, the ones indicating spaceport staff. He carried an official-looking datapad in a well-worn protective casing.

The Mandalorian greeted the other man with slightly less enthusiasm. “Darro,” he acknowledged, inclining his head in his direction.

“What can I do for you? The Crest looks in a much better state than she was the last time we saw her,” the man named Darro said. His gaze flickered over the ship, assessing.

“No repairs today,” Mando confirmed. “I’m turning over six quarries. I need them unloaded, cataloged, and prepared for transport.”

The lively expression on the dock worker’s face melted away, and he stared back at the bounty hunter with something akin to awe. “Six? You brought in six quarries? All at once?” Mando nodded. “Dank farrik, man! I hope you’ve got plans to live it up for a while. You’re gonna be rolling in credits.”

Rather than respond directly, Mando reached into a small leather bag tied to his utility belt and pulled out a handful of heavy, round disks. “Here are the bounty pucks for each. Feel free to verify their identities against them,” he said, passing them to Darro. “I’ll return the tracking fobs to Karga in town.”

Darro accepted the stack of pucks with a nod. “Sure, sure. The Magistrate should be in his office. You want me to get in touch with his protocol droid for you, let him know you’re on your way up?”

The Mandalorian seemed to hesitate slightly at that, as though taken aback by the question, but he recovered quickly enough. “That won’t be necessary. He’s expecting me.”

“Okay, no problem.” The dock worker shoved the bounty pucks into one of the many deep pockets of his jumpsuit before climbing up into the Razor Crest’s cargo hold. He raised his datapad, tapping it a few times as he began to examine the bounties suspended in carbonite on the rack near the door. However, he wasn’t at it for long before he seemed to notice you, still hovering near the ladder, watching silently.

“Oh, hello there,” he said in greeting. His thousand-watt smile was back in full force, and you watched as his stance shifted, affecting a more confident, masculine swagger. “Now, I know I’d remember that face if I’d seen it before. Who’s your new friend, Mando?”

The bounty hunter drew himself up to full height, stepping in the dock worker’s line of sight to break his interested gaze. “She’s no one. Just take the quarries, Darro.”

The other man chuckled good-naturedly, appearing entirely unbothered. “All right, all right.” He brought up his free hand and offered a placating gesture. “I can see she’s already taken.”

“The quarries,” Mando repeated. His voice was hard and cold as ice, and even though it wasn’t directed at you, you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound.

“I got ‘em, I got ‘em.” Darro peaked around the rounded pauldron on Mando’s shoulder and offered you one last smile, smaller than the first, and then turned back to the carbonite slabs. He flipped a switch on each one, and you heard the faint, telltale whir of repulsorlift projectors coming online.

Leaving the dock worker to his task, the Mandalorian finally turned back to you. “It’s time to go,” he said.

You worried on your lower lip and nodded wordlessly. “Do you mind if I say good-bye to the kid?” you asked, your voice small and weaker than you wanted it to be. Mando had informed you that Grogu would be staying behind on this trip for his safety, and while you trusted his judgement, you found it odd that he would leave the boy on his own for something like this.

A part of you wondered whether he wanted to avoid Grogu causing a scene when he handed you over. You supposed you couldn’t blame him, if that was the reason.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice solemn.

You offered him a tight smile in return before lowering yourself to your knees on the deck plating. You sat the child down gingerly, your eyes meeting his huge, black ones. His little wrinkly brows were drawn up and inward on his forehead, his mouth turned down. Tears welled behind your eyes at the pitiful expression, and you fought them down. Still, your voice trembled when you spoke.

“I am…so happy to have known you, buddy. Thank you for having so much fun with me while I was here,” you said earnestly. “Now, you be a good boy for your dad, okay?”

Mando spoke up behind you at that. “I am not his – ”

But you pushed onward and added, “He loves you very much. So you two have to take good care of each other, okay?” Gathering the kid’s tiny frame against yours one last time, you hugged him tightly. Grogu cooed and squealed in your arms, a distressed, unpleasant sound, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it. If you stayed with him for a second longer, you were going to lose the battle against your tears, and you couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. Instead, you let him go, rose to your feet, and extended your hands toward the Mandalorian.

“Okay,” you said firmly. “I’m ready.”

The bounty hunter stared back at you silently for a moment, glancing between your face and your extended hands, wrists together, fingers balled in tight fists. “What are you doing?”

“I’m your quarry, remember? You can’t take me into town and hand me over to your Guild agent without restraints.” You nudged your hands in his direction again, giving him a wobbly smile. “Promise I won’t try to bust out of them this time.”

Mando hesitated, but after a moment, he crossed over to the forbidden silver cabinet along the wall, punched a code into the control panel, and pulled it open. Inside, it was as you had begun to suspect – full of an intimidating collection of firearms, blades, incendiaries, and ammunition. He reached in and produced a medium-sized set of silver binder cuffs. Wordlessly, he closed the cabinet and crossed back to you.

You wondered if perhaps you imagined it, but as he sealed the cuffs around your offered wrists, you thought he might have swiped the warm, leather pad of his thumb across the inside of your palm. Goosebumps erupted up your arm at the sensation.

“There,” he said, his voice heavy and dark. “Now let’s go.”

___

“Welcome to the Nevarro Municipal Center.” The voice of the protocol droid behind the oversized reception desk was cool and posh, and Din felt his hackles raise instantly. “Do you have an appointment?”

At first, after leaving Darro and his crew to manage the offloading of the quarries in stasis, the Mandalorian had led you across town to the quiet, modest office space Karga had been renting the last time he had been on Nevarro. However, rather than finding his Guild agent, he had instead come upon Mythrol shutting down his computer console and packing up for the night, the desk across from him empty and covered in a thin layer of dust. It was only then that the bounty hunter learned that Karga had packed up and moved into one of the larger buildings in the city center, claiming a need for something more “official” to match his new political title.

Following the blue, fish-like man’s directions, Din had back-tracked toward the central plaza, and the two of you had eventually found yourselves in the polished, echoing lobby of a large building with a whitewashed exterior. You were conspicuously the only living beings in sight, the lobby’s only other occupant a bronze TC unit holding an official-looking datapad.

“Sir? Do you have an appointment?” the droid repeated when he didn’t respond.

The bounty hunter gritted his teeth and fought back a sigh of irritation. “I’m here to see Greef Karga,” he said curtly.

“Unfortunately, sir, the High Magistrate is otherwise engaged. I would be happy to set up an appointment for you, perhaps sometime next week?”

Din shook his head and took a step forward, closing the distance between himself and the desk. “He’s expecting me. Please tell Karga that the Mandalorian is here to see him – he will know it’s me.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir. The High Magistrate is currently in a meeting with a very important client – the senior foreman of the New Republic’s shipyards, if you can believe that!” The TC unit sounded deeply impressed, almost reverent. “I’m sure you understand – he will not be interrupted.”

Din, of course, was entirely unmoved. And it was becoming increasingly clear to him that this droid would be of no assistance. Swearing under his breath in resignation, he wrapped his fingers around your upper arm and swiftly escorted you down the hallway on the other side of the reception desk.

As he had ushered you through the city, he had watched as your clear sadness at saying good-bye to Grogu morphed into a profound, growing unease. You had taken to keeping your eyes on the ground in front of you, refusing to look him or anyone else you met on the street in the face, and your calloused, capable hands were balled into fists so tightly your knuckles shone white in the blue light of your binder cuffs. From where his hand held your arm, he could feel that you were trying not to tremble, and he could see you chewing mercilessly on your bottom lip.

You were terrified, and it set Din’s teeth on edge in a way he couldn’t fully explain. All he knew for certain was that he needed to get this over with, as quickly as possible.

As the two of you shoved your way past, the protocol droid let out a mechanical gasp of outrage and immediately began toddling after you. Din, however, paid it no heed and simply walked faster, urging you along. He refused to allow some stuffed-shirt bucket of bolts delay him any further.

Luckily, after a few turns and a brief flight of stairs, Karga’s glass-walled office came into view.

The cool protests of the protocol droid, who was still doing its very best to catch up, took on a shrill tone then. “Sir. Sir! I must ask you to – now, you wait just a minute! You cannot simply barge in – ”

But that was precisely what Din did. Before the droid could stop him, he turned his shoulder into the office door and slammed it open with more force than was probably necessary.

As the door swung inward, the Mandalorian took in the sight of two men standing in the center of the room, clearly in the middle of a tense conversation. One, he would recognize anywhere, with his dark skin, precisely trimmed goatee, and heavy, sumptuous red robes. Karga’s hands were extended in a placating gesture, but his eyes were tight and closed off. The other man was entirely unfamiliar, though it took Din less than a second to determine that he didn’t like him.

He was tall, thin, and human, with pale skin and almost unnaturally red hair – dark and rich like the color of wine. He was dressed deceivingly simply in a plain, gray uniform with black boots, though upon closer inspection, Din found the fabric of the uniform to be finer than any he had ever seen on a man of his profession, and his boots shone as though frequently polished. Everything about him was neat as a pin, not a single hair out of place, and his thin mouth was twisted in an ugly sneer that reinforced the impression that the two men had been about to argue before you two had exploded through the door.

The metallic, tottering sound of the harried protocol droid finally catching up to you broke the strained, stunned silence.

“Oh, I am deeply sorry, High Magistrate, please forgive me, this gentleman and his companion stormed right past me – ”

Karga startled out of his surprise then, his expression quickly shifting from taut to welcoming. “Mando! I thought I might see you this evening – I watched the Razor Crest dropping through the atmosphere from my window. Please, come in, old friend.” He stepped forward, beckoning you both further into the room. “TC-48,” he added, “you’re dismissed for now. Thank you.”

If the protocol droid had had any ability to create facial expressions, Din was certain that it would have looked quite taken aback at the dismissal. Its voice sounded confused as it stuttered, “Well, I… Yes, High Magistrate” before slipping back out the door.

Karga offered both you and Din a smile that didn’t quite reach his warm, brown eyes. “Apologies for my overzealous droid, Mando. He’s new, still getting used to the place.” He gestured then toward the other man in the room. “And may I introduce my client, Orron Halcard. Master Halcard, this is – ”

But before Karga could offer any additional information, the man in gray stepped forward and tucked his hands behind his back. “I believe you have something that belongs to me,” he said abruptly. His voice was cultured and cold, his expression aloof, and the moment he spoke, Din could feel all of the muscles in your body seize up in response. Immediately, all of his senses were on high alert. To you, this man was a threat, and the urge to protect you from it was almost overwhelming.

“I will see that my asset is in good condition,” Halcard continued. He brought one thin, wiry hand out from behind his back and curled his finger at the Mandalorian, beckoning. “Bring her forward.”

Every instinct at his disposal was screaming at him to keep you far away from his man, but Din knew he could not refuse, not with Karga standing right there. Not with the promise he had made, to ensure that the exchange took place as planned. Wrestling his raging emotions into submission, he forced himself to nod once and draw you forward.

As he did so, he risked a glance at your face. However, to his surprise, in sharp contrast to the fear and anxiety that had been there since the Crest had landed on Nevarro, he found your expression to be carefully, meticulously blank. There was nothing behind your eyes, no tension between your brows or in your jaw. You were entirely vacant, and a sense of dread coated his tongue like ash at the sight.

“Hello again, pet,” Halcard murmured silkily as you came to stand before him. His sharp, pale eyes trailed over you, from your head to your feet, and he brought a hand up to rub his jaw in thought. “Hm. Turn around. Slowly.”

The Mandalorian watched as you obeyed, turning slowly in place as you stared into the middle distance, not looking at anyone or anything directly. You stopped when you faced him once again, and wordlessly, Halcard closed what little distance there was left between you by grabbing onto your chin and yanking you toward him. Using his index finger and thumb, he pressed down hard on the muscles of your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “Hm. Very good,” he said softly as he tilted your head this way and that, appearing to examine your teeth. Once he was satisfied, he dropped your jaw, and you stumbled slightly before righting yourself, never making a sound.

Din could feel his blood boiling under his skin. The sight of that man’s hands on you, the thoughtless way he handled you was enough to make his trigger finger itch.

“Well, she seems none the worse for wear,” Halcard announced. “Put on a bit of weight, perhaps, but that can be remedied.”

He turned his attention back to Karga then, seemingly mollified enough to discuss payment terms, but his last words proved to be the last straw for Din’s restraint. He had been hoping to allow the conversation to continue to evolve naturally, to learn more about you and about this man and what precisely you were wanted for, but he found he couldn’t hold back any longer. The implication that Halcard intended to starve you was too much – he couldn’t not speak.

“What is the nature of your relationship with her?” Din demanded, making no attempt to soften the harsh growl of his voice.

Halcard paused and turned back around, making direct eye contact with the Mandalorian for the first time. His brow was arched, his head cocked in surprise. “I wasn’t aware you were owed such an explanation, bounty hunter,” he replied coolly.

Karga chuckled awkwardly, his gaze darting back and forth between his two guests. “Please forgive my colleague, Master Halcard. What he means is – ”

Din bristled at the intrusion. “I meant what I said,” he snarled. “I want to know what you want with her.”

“What I want with her?” the pale man echoed. His voice had gone dangerously soft. “What an impertinent question. I want only what I am owed. As she very well knows.”

Before Din could demand he elaborate, however, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he watched, relief flooding his chest, as you took your first autonomous step forward since you had left the Razor Crest. Your face was no longer carefully vacant. No – he could see sparks of fury in your eyes, and for the first time, you tugged against the restraint of your binder cuffs.

“I don’t owe you anything,” you spat, your tone steeped in indignation. “Not anymore.”

Your sudden surge of strength was short-lived, however. The moment the words left your mouth, before Din could intervene, Halcard swung. A powerful crack echoed through Karga’s office as his backhand landed across your face, and you were sent reeling away from him.

The bounty hunter was at your side in an instant, catching you as you fell. Your lower lip was split and had begun to ooze dark red, and you had begun to shake. Cursing under his breath at the sight, Din tucked you in close against his body, his other hand flying to his blaster holster.

You were bleeding. He had killed men for less.

Karga’s voice rang out then, cutting through the chaos. “Now, now – let’s everyone take a step back and just calm. Down.”

But the Mandalorian was the furthest thing from calm. The last few minutes had proven to him what he had already begun to suspect, what he had feared to be the truth from the moment he learned just how little information had been provided about you to the Guild. This man had not been seeking you out of any care for your well-being, nor had he been seeking you because you had committed any transgression against him. He had filed your bounty with the minimum amount of information possible to not draw any additional attention to what you were – what he should have known from the beginning that you were.

You were his possession.

“She’s a slave,” Din said then, finally putting words to the realization that had a sick, sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “You have slave labor working at the Chardaan Shipyards.”

Halcard scoffed at that, his face twisting into something cruel and menacing. “Hardly. She is my servant, indentured to me through a contract with her family line. The most talented bunch of starship engineers I have ever encountered. And she, unfortunately, is the last of them,” he sneered. “You cannot imagine how much time, how many credits her absence has cost my operation. But no matter. She belongs to me.”

Tucked tightly under Din’s arm, you stirred, seeming to regain some strength in the face of his claim. “My family’s debt is paid, Orron! It’s been paid for years, you know this, please just – ”

But Halcard wasn’t listening. Instead, he turned his back to both you and Din, dismissing you entirely and instead giving his full attention to Karga. “The exchange is acceptable. 7,000 New Republic credits, as agreed,” he said firmly, dropping a leather bag jangling with currency into the magistrate’s hands. “Have your bounty hunter take the binder cuffs off her. I won’t be needing them.”

Karga met the Mandalorian’s gaze then, his expression solemn and resigned. Curling his fingers around the bag of credits, he inclined his head, wordlessly ordering the bounty hunter to do as the client ordered.

Din’s jaw worked inside his helmet, his grip on your body tightening of its own volition as he stared Karga down. He knew what he had to do. He only hoped that you would permit him to explain after, that perhaps, with time, you would forgive him.

Silent as the grave, he slowly eased you from his arms and turned your body to face him. He permitted his eyes to meet yours for an instant, and you gazed back at him. He found himself watching, in real time, as you schooled your expression into something placid, something far away. It was a deeply unnatural look on you, you who were so full of life, you who wore your heart on your sleeve, and a heavy ache settled in Din’s chest at the sight. Forcing himself to look away, he thumbed a few controls on his vambrace, and your binder cuffs fell open.

“Stand aside, now, Mandalorian,” Halcard commanded, once again aloof and detached. “The deal is done.”

Din obeyed and stepped back a few paces, putting some distance between you and him.

“Very good.” The foreman approached you once more, and the beginnings of a smirk played on the edges of his thin, cruel mouth. Producing his own set of binder cuffs from a deep pocket of his uniform, he gestured for you to extend your wrists. You did so without a word, and in a moment, you were cuffed again.

However, Halcard did not stop there. Clutching onto your jaw with one hand, he yanked your head to one side, exposing your long, bare neck. With the other hand, he pulled a small, blinking device about the size of a Calamari Flan out of his pocket, and the Mandalorian watched, helpless, as your eyes widened in ice cold fear.

“No, no, no – Orron, please,” you begged softly, your voice trembling, your gaze locked on the mysterious device in the pale man’s hand. With growing dread, Din realized that the device had three wicked-looking metal prongs sticking out from the back side.

Before he could protest, Halcard rammed those prongs into your neck, sinking them deep into the column of muscle just below your ear.

You let out a single scream of pain, your knees buckling beneath you, the only thing keeping you on your feet the grip of the foreman’s hand on your jaw. A thin trickle of blood dripped down the side of your neck, soaking into the collar of your boilersuit.

The red was all Din could see.

Halcard watched, indifferent, as you regained your footing, and once you appeared more stable, he wrapped his fingers around the connector between your binder cuffs and tugged you toward the office door. “Come along now, pet. Our business is finished here,” he said. He offered Karga a single, stoic nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Magistrate.”

You were nearly out the door before the Mandalorian felt it was safe for to speak.

“Wait,” he called, stepping forward.

He could feel his Guild agent tense behind him. “Mando.” His deep voice, ordinarily so jovial, was hard with warning.

Din, however, paid him no heed. “How much to buy out her debt?” he asked.

Halcard froze in place, hauling you to a stop just inside the threshold of Karga’s office. Your head whipped around, and you stared at the bounty hunter, stunned.

Tense silence hung in the air for a moment until the pale man slowly, deliberately turned around to face the Mandalorian. “Excuse me?” he murmured, his jaw tight, his tone carefully cold.

Still, Din was undeterred. “Her debt,” he repeated, more confidently this time. “You say she owes you. And that her absence cost your business money. How much to pay it off?”

Halcard’s upper lip curled in a disdainful smirk. “More than you can afford, Mandalorian.”

“Mando…” Karga echoed, more insistent this time.

Again, Din ignored him, taking another step toward the door. Although he knew it couldn’t be seen by others, there was still satisfaction in the smirk he returned to the foreman beneath his helmet. “Try me,” he said.

Cocking his head, Halcard stroked his sharp, pale jaw in thought. It almost appeared as though he was giving the proposal true consideration. Din could swear that the whole room could hear how his heart raced in his chest as he tried not to get his hopes up. If Halcard cited a truly outrageous sum, or if he denied his proposal, there would be nothing left he could do to protect you.

After what felt like perhaps the longest minute of Din’s life, the other man finally spoke.

“25,000 credits,” he said, his smirk widening with triumph.

Clearly, however, Halcard had very little experience working with bounty hunters of the Mandalorian’s caliber.

“Done,” Din agreed instantly.

He watched as the man’s pale face dropped. “What?”

By his side, you were shaking your head furiously, your lips trembling. “No, Mando, please, you don’t have to – ”

Din met your gaze and raised a hand calm you. “It’s all right,” he assured you, making his voice as soothing and confident as he could manage. Reaching into his utility belt, the bounty hunter produced all seven tracking fobs from this hunt and dropped them onto the dumbfounded Karga’s desk. The metal components clattered on the polished surface but were otherwise silent, their beeping long since silenced. “Your men are unloading each of these as we speak,” he said, his gaze now directed at his Guild agent. “They will find all of them to be legitimate. I will take the payment now.”

Karga took a moment to study the tracking fobs, his wizened face, so purposefully neutral up until now, betraying his astonishment. Din knew that he was doing the math in his head, recalling which of his remaining bounties he had sent with Din and how much each of them were worth. Silently the bounty hunter prayed that his estimation of his payout was accurate. Din had never been one for academics, but when you made your living cashing in bounties, mental math was something you got a lot of practice with.

After a few more moments of fraught silence, Karga finally spoke. “Of course, my friend. 30,000 New Republic credits.” Taking a seat in his high-backed desk chair, the older man pulled out one of his desk drawers and laid his hand upon the print scanner lock atop the safe nestled inside. The safe clicked open, and Karga reached inside, pulling out three pouches made of deep purple cloth. “Yours,” he said, passing each of them to Din at a time.

The pouches had hardly been in his grasp for more than a handful of seconds before the Mandalorian sat one of them down on the surface of the desk. Carefully, wordlessly, he counted out 5,000 credits and tucked them into his utility belt. Then, he closed up the pouch, closed the distance between himself and Halcard, and extended all three bags to him.

“25,000 credits. Her debt is paid. You have been compensated for the absence of your…servant,” Din growled. “Now release the binders, and get that cortical tracking device off her.”

He watched with satisfaction as the arrogance melted off of the other man’s face. “You cannot be serious,” Halcard said through gritted teeth.

Din, however, did not deign to respond. He simply held the foreman’s gaze through his visor, the credits held out between them.

“Fine.” With a grimace, Halcard snatched the proffered pouches out of the air. “You want her that badly, she’s yours.” Hurriedly and with rough hands, he opened your binder cuffs, ripped the tracking device out of your neck, and thrust you toward Din. The Mandalorian caught you effortlessly and quickly gathered you behind him, putting himself between you and Halcard.

“Well. This has certainly been a…productive evening, gentlemen,” Karga said, clapping his hands together. “Master Halcard, if you are satisfied with this exchange, I will have my TC unit escort you back to your ship. I’m sure you’re a busy man. I wouldn’t want to hold you up any further.”

“Oh, yes. More than satisfied.” Halcard rolled the weighty pouches of credits around in his thin, wiry hands with a smile. “This is far more than that pathetic harpy is worth. This should fetch me…why, three replacement assets, at least.”

Din cocked his head at the foreman. “I’m sure the New Republic would be interested to hear that. I wonder what they would think…knowing their largest starship manufacturer is using slave labor in their hangars.”

For the first time, Halcard’s pale skin flared bright red, and he began to sputter indignantly, striding forward as though about to charge at the Mandalorian. “Now, you listen here – ”

“No, sir, I don’t think we will,” Karga interrupted, polite but firm. “Ah, TC-48. There you are.” The bronze protocol droid from the reception desk had pattered into the room behind Halcard, its posture expectant as it waited for orders. “Please escort Master Halcard back to his ship. And no detours, if you please. He’s on a tight schedule.”

“Gods damn you, Karga – ”  

“Of course, High Magistrate,” TC-48 said cheerfully. Taking ahold of Orron Halcard’s uniform sleeve, it ushered him inexorably toward the door. “If you would follow me, please sir.”

And Din Djarin watched with swelling satisfaction as the senior foreman of the Chardaan Shipyards was conducted, flushed and cursing, out of the office, down the hall, and into the city beyond.

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Lost Boys, Pt. 3

Inside the cave of the wildmen, Sheppard had left the dinner table to follow Ford in order to have a private word with him. Although Sheppard is unarmed, before Ford started taking the enzyme it is likely Sheppard would have won a bout of unarmed combat between the two of them, even with Ford's youthful vigor. But the tables have turned since then, and Sheppard knows that he would have little hope of taking Ford man to man. And what is more, he still does not actually want to harm him, so his first order of business is to try reasoning with him, knowing full well that Ford seems far beyond reason.

Ford: Let him go. Sheppard: Ford, look. I know what you're trying to do.

Ford allows Sheppard to accompany him and while he may have confidence that he might be able to take his former CO if it came down to it, he feels more protected by the fact that his men have Sheppard's team at gunpoint in the other room. He does know Sheppard fairly well, and hence can predict his angles. He would never let any harm come to his team. Sheppard first tries to establish rapport with Ford, using his training in psychological warfare to his advantage. Sheppard is so skilled at the art of manipulation and working people over that given what rudimentary training Ford might have, if he was any run-of-the-mill cave bandit, Sheppard might well have succeeded in getting him to play what ever ball he wanted to. But the wraith enzyme was clearly making Ford's mind unstable and unpredictable.

Sheppard: I get it, I do. But you're going about this all wrong. Weir isn't gonna listen to us if we're all hopped up on the enzyme. Ford: Your food was clean.

It is possible that Ford had left Sheppard without the enzyme for him to be able to stand witness to what ever operation he has going on here, but it could also simply be due to some residue of the respect that he had once held for his commanding officer and for Sheppard personally that had made him not want to tamper with him. But Ford is going about this all wrong as far as he is concerned, because Sheppard would have taken the enzyme a hundred times over if he could have spared his team from having to be exposed to it, most of all McKay, which he is obviously not going to even hint at. But look at the way he is using his hand to both soothe Ford and to hold his attention, how he is trying to establish this as "their" shared problem, like they have a united front against Weir. Like Sheppard is really on his side here. Whether his skill is natural, learned or the result of the Ancient DNA, Sheppard is really quite good at this.

Sheppard: Why? Why me? Ford: You're gonna be the witness. You're gonna be the one to tell Weir that her most trusted team is taking the enzyme and is better because of it.

There is a noticeably long pause before Sheppard asks Ford the question that Ford probably anticipated he would ask. Why him? This has nothing to do with Sheppard not realizing his own worth or station in the military hierarchy or in life in general, he has a healthy self-esteem and he also understands the way a young Lieutenant would view him. That is not why it takes him a moment to ask the obvious question. He seems to be thinking through Ford's possible unspoken motivations, trying to figure out what he could possibly say that would make Ford exchange him for McKay. It is not hyperbole to claim that this is Sheppard's motivation because later on, he specifically makes a deal to get Ford to spare McKay and only McKay. He allows both Teyla and Ronon to undergo a potentially lethal experiment in order to save McKay from having to endure discomfort, and this is a thing that very much happens. When he asks "Why me?" he actually wants to know why him and not McKay. This is what he wants to know but he knows better than to say it out loud to someone that may well harbour intentions of hurting him, given that the last time they had seen each other Sheppard had shot him.

Sheppard: Look, buddy. Why don't you come back with us, have Beckett look you over, huh? That's the best proof. Ford: No. No, I've thought this through. This is the plan.

What is really interesting here is that we hear Sheppard use this exact same tone, even to the point of using the moniker "Buddy" with McKay in The Shrine (S05E04) when McKay, losing his mental faculties, comes banging on his door in the middle of the night demanding to know why Sheppard is not in his room sleeping with him. It sounds especially similar to when he tells him "Come on, buddy, let's go" as he suggests that they go sit by the pier in the moonlight.

So why is he using that tone here? It is not that the situations are similar or that he views the two of them the same way. But in both cases Sheppard is, for different reasons, being cautious with what he can and should say to them, and he is trying to placate them. He is trying to navigate his way through a verbal minefield, and buddy is a word that is neutral enough but which still implies intimacy. He is using "buddy" with McKay because he is not quite sure how far he is gone at this point, but does call him Rodney when they are out having a heart to heart conversation, satisfied that McKay is not yet as gone not to be McKay anymore. Sheppard knows a hundred different ways of speaking McKay's name and there is nothing that he could ever say that would be more intimate than "Rodney".

But there, he needs some distance to the situation, the sheer horror of having to watch the person he loves most in the world being slowly erased. His intention here with Ford is almost the opposite of that, he is trying to establish a connection between them, of reminding Ford of the camaraderie they once felt so that he could talk some sense into him, or at the very least to let McKay return to Atlantis so that Beckett might look him over. Knowing about McKay's allergies, Sheppard is not assured that he isn't having a reaction of some kind.

Sheppard: Look, I don't know what you're thinking but-- Ford: You're free to roam around as much as you want. You're all part of the team now.

There is a lengthy pause again and Sheppard really seems to be watching his words. It is obvious to him that Ford is beyond reasoning with and while there might be dozens of angles he could try here, he is very much having to watch his step. He needs to figure out a way of getting his team out of here without setting off a bunch of militant bandits hopped up on an enzyme that clearly makes the user unstable, unnaturally strong and unpredictably violent. What is more, it is his fault that McKay is even stuck with them here now, he had insisted that he come along when McKay had wanted to stay back and do something that probably would have benefited everyone on Atlantis, if not everyone in the galaxy. It was because he was selfish and did not want to do this without McKay that he had strong armed him to come with, and now he had been drugged by his former Lieutenant that probably had some kind of a personal vendetta against him, and he got that. Sheppard himself did not have very warm feelings toward people that had shot him. But he needed to get McKay out of here. Most of all he needed to get McKay out of here safely. We see Sheppard do his self-soothing lip thing here, at the end, showing us just how agitated this situation is making him.

Next, we find that the team has roamed freely to the stargate that is situated in a beautiful meadows with long grass, and McKay is elbow-deep inside the guts of the DHD while kneeling in front of Sheppard. Or Sheppard is standing over him, watching over McKay's shoulder as he works which, as we have seen, is one of his favourite occupations.

Dex: OK, so why aren't these guys watching us? Teyla: Ronon is right. They went to great trouble to get us here. Why would they allow us to leave?

While we see McKay making all kinds of faces of concentration, biting his lip and panting as he feels up the DHD and we see Sheppard standing with his hands on his hips, jutting his pelvis out toward him (and let us just note how perfect they are in height for other activities that might happen in the same configuration), it is because we see McKay first in a separate frame that does not show Sheppard that the audience is given reprieve from having to see what is so readily right there. Why aren't these guys watching us, Ronon asks. Why are we not watching these guys? Both Ronon and Teyla are swiveling their heads in a way that indicates that they want to be looking at anything but McKay and Sheppard here. And this is not the first time that McKay has been kneeling in front of Sheppard, not by a long shot. The composition of this scene is clearly intentional.

Sheppard: Just waiting for the other shoe to drop. McKay: Oh, that little bastard! Sheppard: There it goes. McKay: This is what I was afraid of. Sheppard: What'd he do?

Sheppard is performing such an obvious crotch display here and he is so very obviously doing it to McKay. Teyla is the only woman on the entire planet and Sheppard is clearly turned away from her and toward McKay. They look each other in the eye as McKay gazes up and and Sheppard looks down at him, they make eye contact while they are positioned in a way that would make both of them feel uncomfortable if they were straight dudes. Sheppard is once more standing entirely unnecessarily close to McKay. He has chosen to stand this close to McKay.

McKay: He's taken all the necessary control crystals. Something I showed him how to do on a mission, I might add. Sheppard: Well, that's not good. McKay: That is the under-statement of the year. Sheppard: Alright! See what you can do.

McKay makes a reference to Home (S01E08) which, incidentally, is not only the episode in which McKay had showed Ford how to remove the control crystals of the DHD, is also the episode in which we saw Sheppard start his hobby of watching McKay work, and he was also doing it over a DHD then. We also saw McKay kneeling under one of the control panels in the Atlantis control platform with Sheppard sitting unnecessarily close to him, this scene also suggestive of something not only for the audience but also to Sheppard, who was clearly zoning out of the conversation lost in some fantasy at the time. Back then, Sheppard had not yet experienced what he, by now, has been on both the receiving and the giving end of with McKay.

We see Ronon and Teyla exchange glances here as McKay and Sheppard have a conversation in tones that are way too domestic for this to be a professional dispute. Even though McKay's irascible tone is clearly meant toward Ford, it is because Sheppard feels responsible for having gotten them--and especially McKay who had not even wanted to be here--into this jam that he feels like McKay is sniping at him. And hence we see that he has folded his arms defensively, looking away from McKay's intense look.

And it is because Sheppard is feeling guilty that he snaps at McKay himself. He is putting pressure on McKay to figure this out in a way that he usually wants to avoid but he really wants to get McKay off this planet as soon as possible. It seems like what McKay is looking for here is for Sheppard to acknowledge his feelings and because Sheppard seems so unperturbed, seems much too relaxed about this, it makes McKay think that he is not taking this as seriously as he should. But what Sheppard is feeling internally and what he lets other people see are two very different things because as a fighter pilot he has learned how to control his emotions and his responses, and he knows that freaking out and falling apart in the middle of a mission is not going to help them in the least. So he seems cool as a cucumber, which just annoys McKay at the moment.

Dex: OK, why don't we just take 'em? All we've gotta do is get our hands on one stunner. I can take 'em all. Sheppard: Maybe, but if we mess it up, whatever trust we might have been given will disappear. Teyla: You want to make them trust us?

If it had just been himself and Teyla with Ronon, he might have taken Ronon up on this suggestion. But with McKay there, especially since McKay had not wanted to be there to begin with, he simply cannot risk it. He does not want to set off a series of events that might even potentially lead to McKay being injured or killed. But like we see later, it is explicitly mentioned, Sheppard has no problem whatsoever sacrificing Ronon and Teyla. They both knew what they were signing up for and could take care of themselves. He is protective of his team, he would do anything for any one of them, Sheppard tells Teyla in Sateda (S03E04). But McKay has by this time become the one thing that he simply cannot lose. It is an unacceptable loss to him. He will keep McKay safe if it kills him.

And so he convinces both Ronon and Teyla to play it safe while both of them seem to prefer some other course of action. He even looks at McKay as he mentions that they may lose their trust, making it clear what his motivation here is. He also unfolds his arms here as he looks down at McKay, leaning his hand on the DHD. Even though he was feeling defensive as he folded his arms, there is only so long he can bear having any kind of a barrier between himself and McKay. He had made his point and was now again full on leaning into McKay's space. He also does not turn his body toward Ronon while he speaks to him. And this is not caused by Ronon, this is caused by him needing to have his body turned toward McKay.

Sheppard: We play it cool, we let them get comfortable. They're bound to make a mistake. Teyla: And in the meantime? Sheppard: We play along.

Sheppard sells this as strategy when what he is really doing is trying to figure out what the smartest move is, what he can do that would ensure both McKay's safety and getting him off the planet and back to Atlantis. Note that Sheppard is using the "we" language here, encompassing the entire team. He is placing himself in the same pickle as the others and from what he says next, it is not entirely clear the others even realize that he is not on the enzyme like them. He may not have told them. Also note that in the short time that it took Teyla to ask Sheppard a follow-up question, he had already returned his attention on McKay and had to draw his eyes away from him to look at her again.

Sheppard: How are you guys feeling? Dex: I didn't eat that much. I feel fine. Teyla: Perhaps if we were able to fast, they would be unable to administer the enzyme. Sheppard: I doubt that.

Sheppard very pointedly asks this question out of Ronon and Teyla. He is looking at the two of them but because McKay does not see his look, he (naturally) thinks that he is included in this question. But Sheppard was purposefully and very obviously asking them because he is afraid to know what the answer from McKay is. By asking them he can get like a preview, he can get some inkling of what the answer to a question he is afraid to even think about is. And make no mistake, Sheppard seeming not to care about how McKay is doing is entirely an act. He is trying to both keep it from McKay how anxious this is really making him and to convince himself that it is probably nothing, he is making a mountain out of a molehill. But like he had told Ronon in Condemned (S02E05), he is a worrier. And there is nothing he worries about more than McKay's safety.

Also note that neither answer Sheppard gets from them is really comforting to him. He saw McKay eat more than a little and he knows that McKay, as a hypoglycemic, will not be able to fast even if the rest of them could. He is also not keen to see McKay being force-fed. He is trying hard to come up with something that would convince them to stop administering the enzyme to McKay, and as we later see, he even succeeds in doing this. It is Sheppard that makes it all about McKay.

Sheppard: I don't think they would have a problem forcing us. McKay: Yeah, well, this thing is useless, and I ate my face off and I can tell you, I can feel it working. Sheppard: There's a good possibility that everything you're feeling at the moment might be psychosomatic.

As mentioned, McKay naturally felt like he was included in Sheppard's question and now that he has given up on the DHD and hence has nothing to occupy his thoughts with, he is free to start full-out freaking out about the enzyme again. And even though Sheppard appreciates McKay's directness and that he does not beat around the bush, this is precisely what he did not want to hear. It is painful for Sheppard to hear this especially because he is feeling guilty for having brought McKay here against his will, he feels entirely responsible for his situation and hence interprets McKay's every word, the vehemence of his tone, as directed at himself rather than at Ford and the other cave-dwellers. And that is not what McKay is intending, he is merely venting to relieve some of his own anxiety.

Sheppard suggests that McKay's symptoms may be psychosomatic (and some of them may well be) but do not mistake this for Sheppard actually thinking this. He goes through a lot of trouble to get Ford to agree to take McKay off the enzyme meaning that his concern for McKay's well-being is genuine. Here, his intention is to calm McKay down and to reduce his anxiety. Hyperfocusing on the feelings of his body, which is what McKay tends to do at the best of times, just makes the experience worse for him and as a soldier, Sheppard knows a thing or two about managing pain. Moving the focus away from it is the first thing, and so by getting McKay to focus on being annoyed with him and coming up with a witty rejoinder will allow him to change focus. But note how Sheppard himself bends down here, to look inside the DHD that McKay had just been working on, as though what he sees inside would mean anything to him. The reason for him bending down and looking was to get his own mind out of thinking about this for a moment, to reduce his own anxiety. He can keep a calm façade for McKay but that is not what he is feeling here.

McKay: Oh, is that right, Professor Science? Is that your expert opinion? Sheppard: Yes, it is. McKay: Well, I can tell you, when they up the dosage, the side effects will be very real and very unpredictable.

Sheppard seems to be on some kind of autopilot because just as soon as McKay takes off, Sheppard's body moves to follow him. We have seen this before although not this obviously: it is as though Sheppard is pulled by an invisible tether. His focus is still on the DHD, he is not even looking at McKay, but as soon as McKay moves, his body starts moving the same way wanting to maintain the (lack of) distance between them. He even takes a few faster steps to get closer to McKay just as they step out of the frame. And yes, their dialogue here shows them both acting like squabbling children and that was Sheppard's intention, getting McKay to focus on him rather than on his own body. If he had not been purposefully baiting McKay, being called Professor Science by him might have stung a little bit, just like McKay implying that he is not as clever than him always does, but this time he just sarcastically agrees. He is an expert on McKay's body and his expert opinion is that McKay has a tendency to catastrophize and even though Sheppard is preparing for the worst, he hopes for the best.

Continued in Pt. 4

[cedarxwing]

crying and throwing up thinking about you writing this

Brownham

Mamihlapinatapei

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

It’s late winter when Will comes home from the hospital, still hobbling with a cane from his gut wound. 

Matthew is sitting on his front steps, playing fetch with Will’s dogs. They pant with excitement around him, eyes trained on the slobbery old tennis ball until they notice Will’s arrival and rush to his side. They jump for attention, but bending down would set his stitches on fire.

He plays absently with the tips of Winston’s ears. “Out on good behavior?” 

“Yup,” Matthew says, glancing guiltily at Will’s cane. He’s not dressed for the weather, wearing only a light jacket and track pants, but he isn’t shivering. “They put me on mood stabilizers.”

“You feel more stable?”

“Not really, but I’m good at fooling the nurses.”

Will isn’t feeling particularly stable either. There’s a cavern in his chest where his heart used to beat, darkness heaving and coiling within. “What will you do now?”

“Not sure. I’ll probably go back to drifting. Pick up some work at a prison out of state.” 

The thought of Matthew going under cover as that lisping dullard again doesn’t sit right with Will, but he shakes the feeling off. Not his business.

Matthew helps him up the porch steps, a steady hand at the small of his back, careful not to let him slip on the black ice. Will’s instinct tells him to push him away, but the support is… surprisingly nice.

It takes a while for Will to open the storm door. The lock always sticks when it’s cold, and he only has one hand to fumble with the key.

“Here, I got it,” Matthew offers. He deftly unlocks the door and holds it open. The living room beyond is dark and dusty.

Will pauses at the threshold, his dogs milling around at his feet.

Matthew has that fresh-out-of-jail look: pale, jittery, hair grown out over his forehead and ears. He’s rumpled and scarred and could use a bath. It’s kind of cute in an ugly sort of way—Will’s worst weakness when it comes to strays.

The obsession is still there. His eyes are too wide, too fixed on Will, like they’re trying to absorb him entirely. But Will’s used to obsession, knows how to handle it. Hell, he has a bit of it himself these days. And it’s not like he has much left to lose. 

He rolls his tongue across his teeth before asking, “Do you know anything about boats?”

***

It takes several months to repair the Nola, but it would’ve taken much longer without Matthew’s help. He does all the heavy lifting for the first few weeks, hefting engine parts and sailcloth, operating the boom at Will’s direction.

“This is just like Castaway,” Matthew says as he watches Will rewire the bilge pump. “You’re Tom Hanks, and I’m the volleyball.”

Will wants to say that volleyballs don’t talk half as much as Matthew does, but the truth is he appreciates hearing a voice coming from outside his head.

Sick of the draft, Matthew takes care of the shattered living room window (“What the hell kind of mutant stag crashed through here anyway?”). In the evenings, he runs the dogs around the backyard until they’re too tired to jump all over Will. Once, when Will slips off the deck and lies face-up in the snow, paralyzed with gut pain, Matthew runs to him, carries him indoors, and frantically checks his stomach for tearing. Will isn’t allowed outside the house for three days after that.

Matthew cooks when Will doesn’t see the point of eating. Ham sandwiches, boiled hot dogs, and Kraft mac and cheese in cartoon shapes (“The extra crevices trap the sauce better”) are a welcome change from what he’s used to being served. Will doesn’t complain when his pancakes are burnt or when they have instant ramen for the fifth time in a row. He’s just happy to be completely sure of what he’s eating.

Mostly it’s nice to have someone else making noise around the house. The clatter of kitchen cabinets and the rat-tat-tat of video game gunfire keeps Will from getting lost in Hannibal’s kitchen, where he lies bleeding out on the floor, hands scrabbling uselessly at Abigail’s hemorrhaging carotid, distant footsteps echoing down the hall before the front door slams shut.

Matthew’s constant attention reminds Will that he’s not a ghost, especially in the middle of the night, when life is most like a dream.

Sometimes he comes down from the upstairs bedroom for a glass of water and finds Will staring out the newly-fixed window.

“Are the shadow people creeping around again?” he asks, peering over Will’s shoulder. For him, there’s nothing out there besides the gnarled hickory leaning over the driveway.

Will knows Hannibal isn’t really there, standing knee-deep in the snow, scarf snapping in the wind. The real Hannibal is done chasing. He wants Will to find him instead.

He glances back. Matthew’s shirtless—like always—except for the bathrobe he found buried at the back of Will’s closet when he first moved in. This close, he can feel the heat emanating from Matthew’s chest. He’s like a fucking furnace.

He’s tempted to reach out on a chilly night like this, if only to feel something, anything. He wants Matthew to press him against the mattress and make him forget. But Will’s teeth are growing sharper by the day, and his hands remember snapping Randall Tier’s neck mere inches from the bed. If he lets himself get too close, if Hannibal appears, sitting in the armchair by the fire, watching them…

Matthew places a warm hand on his shoulder. Sniffs subtly, checking for whiskey on Will’s breath, but he hasn’t had any tonight. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed.” 

Will wants to protest whenever Matthew plays the orderly—this isn’t a nursing home, and Will isn’t his patient, for Christ’s sake—but he can’t find the energy. He lets Matthew guide him under his covers and swallows a pill with the water held up to his lips.

Matthew sits on the floor, head resting on his arms crossed on the mattress. He studies Will, unblinking. No one has ever cared this much about Will without asking for anything in return. It’s an awful feeling. He doesn’t deserve it.

Right before Will drifts off to sleep, he feels gentle fingers brush through his hair.

***

Come June, Will’s all healed up and the boat is hooked up to a truck, gleaming with a fresh coat of paint, ready for launch in the nearest marina. He does the final checks in the early morning, when he knows Matthew is still asleep. Once he’s sure she has no leaks or loose wires, he hops off the stern and pulls out the keys.

Matthew is leaning against the truck door, blocking his way. “Thought you’d sneak off on your own, did you?”

Will squints at the empty green field and over the trees, toward the sun rising in the east. “Listen,” he says awkwardly, shifting on his feet. “Thanks for all the help.”

A muscle in Matthew’s jaw twitches. “It’d be easier sailing with a second hand. We could sleep in shifts.”

Will doesn’t trust himself alone on the open sea with Matthew, not for the full month it’ll take to cross the Atlantic. Already, he struggles with perception. People are flatter, washed out, like watercolor illustrations in a children’s storybook. He looks at Matthew and sees raw material. He sees meat.

“I only packed enough food for one.”

Matthew lets out a disbelieving laugh, voice thick with pain. “You still think about him, don’t you? All the time. After everything he did.”

It hurts to say it, but Will won’t lie. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, but—” He scuffs a foot in the gravel. “Stuff like that doesn't really go away, does it? Part of me probably will always think about him.”

Matthew’s face screws up, tilting to the side as he processes that. Will wants nothing more than to draw him into an embrace, but how cruel would that be, when he doesn’t know if he’s ever coming back?

“I’m going to kill him, Matthew,” he murmurs. “I’ll cut him out of me, one way or another, and then I’ll be myself again.”

Matthew nods, but he doesn’t seem reassured. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a hunting knife and folds Will’s hand around it. The wooden handle has a pleasant heft.

He pulls Will’s head close to his, forcing him to look into his bright green eyes. There’s anger there, but fierce determination, too. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here when you get back. Me and the dogs. Remember that, okay?”

Will swallows. “Okay," he says, but it feels like a promise he can't keep.

[gosecretscribbles]

Rise August Day 7: Disco

Donnie and Leo walked into Hueso’s, hotly debating the chronological order of the Jupiter Jim movies.  They didn’t even notice April sitting in a booth until she called out to them.

“Hey guys!” she waved.  “You eating here or to go?”

Donnie broke off his absolutely correct argument by shoving Leo face-first into the booth seat.  “Oh hey April!  What’s with all the paperwork?  Is it the systematic documentation of your descent into becoming a human drone?”

“Nah, I’m done with homework.  Hueso wanted me to brainstorm ideas for theme nights from the human world.”

Leo popped up from the seat.  “Ooooh, you’ve got an aquarium idea!  I’d love to see how that would work.  Fill the place with water?  It’s not like skeletons need to breathe, but I don’t know about some of the guests.”

All three of them looked around the room.  Most of the yokai present were obviously mammals, but a few were reptilian and one looked like an axolotl shaped out of bright green slime. 

Leo rubbed his chin.  “How mad do you think Hueso would be if I dumped water on the slime lizard?  In the interest of testing aquarium feasibility.”

“I am entirely in favor of scientific testing,” Donnie said thoughtfully.  “And also of becoming Hueso’s favorite in two seconds flat.”

“Aw…”

April rolled her eyes.  “Guys, he’d just bring in an aquarium and hire a few mermaids.  So far I’ve got ideas for Geocaching, Dungeons and Dungeons, Gothic Horror, Disco –”

Donnie gasped.  “<em>Disco Night?!</em>  April, this is by far the greatest presentation of sick beats I have ever laid eyes on outside of my own brain!  You <em>have</em> to pick this one!”

“It’s an automatic ‘no,’” said a voice from behind them.  Hueso had appeared with a pitcher of lemonade in his hands and a dour look on his face.  “I do not trust the judgement of someone who repeatedly encourages the idiota azul.”

“Hey!”

“I unintentionally deterred him less than five seconds ago!  Also!”  A few quick taps on his vambrace and a holographic slideshow appeared in the air.  “I already have a plethora of playlists and equipment that I’ve been saving since that time I used the mental intelligence reprogramulator!  I’ll design and install everything myself!  I’ll even have Mikey create a few disco-themed desserts.  I bet he could make cream puffs that look like disco balls!”

Hueso looked dubious.  “The last time I let two of you operate in my restaurant, it was half-devoured by unicorns.  Frankly, I’m only consulting with April because she’s the only human I know who hasn’t made a bone pun in my general direction.”

Leo whistled.  “Impressive, when there’s so much to work with.  206 things to work with, in fact.”

“This is why you are not my favorite.”

All three of them stared at Hueso.

“I don’t know what that look is for.  It is very clear he has <em>never</em> been my favorite.”

They continued to stare.  April raised an eyebrow. 

Hueso rolled his eyesockets.  “Your collective sense of humor continues to confound me.  Ms. O’Neil, let me know when you have picked the best two or three topics.  And keep in mind that their success will determine whether I use your ideas again.”  He turned on his heel and strode away.

April shook her head.  “Never seen denial so bad.  How much longer do you think he can fool himself?”

Leo shrugged.  “I mean, Hueso Jr. gave me a ‘Best Big Brother’ mug, so not much longer.”

Donnie grabbed them both by the shoulders, grinning maniacally.  “Enough with your emotional mockery!  This time next week, Run of the Mill will have transformed into an authentic discotheque!  WE MUST SUMMON OUR BROTHERS AT ONCE!”

April had to admit, the disco idea was fantastic. 

Donnie designed almost everything and spent the night beforehand doing minor renovations (minor, the way Splinter had a minor infomercial obsession).  The walls had been spraypainted hot pink and the ceiling purple with matching violet lights.  Three discoballs of varying sizes hung from the ceiling.  The tables had been pushed aside to make room for a custom-sized dance floor with checkerboard yellow and purple tiles that lit up when stepped on.  Donnie had a DJ setup in the corner. 

Per Donnie’s instructions, his brothers also had their assigned roles.  Mikey designed disco-themed desserts, including gingerbread men with bellbottom frosting and the disco cream puffs.  Leonardo and April went shopping in the Hidden City and thrift shopped items that guests could wear.  They stuck rhinestones onto tacky glasses and cut up fabric to make Velcro bellbottoms, crop tops, and adjustable metallic skirts, depending on the yokai’s anatomy.  Raph had done a lot of heavy lifting with the installation and was manning (or turtling) a small photobooth in the corner. 

April found Hueso about an hour into the event, taking a short break against one of the booths.  Correction: It was so packed that he couldn’t get back to the kitchen, and was waiting for a song break to make a dash for it.  April sidled up to him and grinned. 

“So, whadya think?  Human Theme nights a success?”

“Much moreso than I expected,” Hueso said.  It was hard to tell without facial muscles, but he looked stuck between excitement at the business and dread at who had brought it in.  “I had no idea the Hamatos could be so…industrious, given their usual destructive tendencies.”

There was a crash over the music.  Leonardo and Mikey had started dancing together, jumped onto a table, and overturned it. 

Hueso sighed.  “I brought it upon myself.  Although they are unusually tame tonight, all things considered.”

She shrugged.  “This meant a lot to Donnie.  And I told them they could take turns picking the next theme night if they were on their best behavior.  Mikey really wants an origami competition, and Raph is really into wrestling.  I think Leo’s caught between skateboarding and a comic book expo, but the others want him to go last since he’ll get two in a row.”

“He will get no such thing, as he is still not my favorite.”

April just laughed.  “Sure, Hueso.  Hey, you wanna try crowd surfing to the kitchen?  I don’t think Donnie’s going to let up the music anytime soon.”

Donnie shouted something over the crowd.  The music transitioned smoothly from ‘Le Freak’ to ‘Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now.’  Mikey threw a glowing chain over one of the ceiling beams and hoisted himself into the air.  Raph gave him a shove and he went soaring above the crowd, high-fiving every hand, flipper, and tentacle below. 

Hueso sighed.  “I’m glad we charged admission at the door, since only half the patrons have ordered anything.”

“Less clean up for your crew!”

Hueso grumbled something inaudible.  April just laughed again and jumped, reaching up with both hands.  Mikey caught her and they swung through the air together.  Finally, a party that went right – as long as there were no animatronics in site!

@sariphantom

[mosneakers]

As howls fade and glasses clink no more, the beasts that patron Grimtooth Bar and Bunker empty into the moonlit night, leaving Selene to share her intimate secrets with Brick beneath the ancient Moonwood trees. Her sponge mopping away not just spills from the night, but also the weight of her past since that ominous night.

Selene: So there I was. I had about 17 hours left before this illness either ran its course or took full effect, and a journal entry with a supposed werebies cure. I had my poor papa running around Moonwood Mill searching high and low for the ingredients listed in the entry while I experimented on the stove. So when the time—

Random Werewolf: Hey... Are you Monty's son? Brick Darling? Brick: [Balls his fist] Who's askin'? Random: Hey don't bite the messenger. I was just sent to let you know you're supposed to report to the Moonwood Mill pack leader.

Brick: I'm in the middle of a conversation with this nice, pretty, smart, young lady and you're all up in my shit, my guy. Random: I don't want any trouble, just following orders.

Brick: Why don't you let him know he can report to the Ligma pack leader.

Random: Look, whatever dude. [Scurries off]

Selene: Got em'. Brick: Damn right. [Fist bumps] Selene: But... Montgomery isn't who you think he is. I don't want to pry in familial business or anything, Brick... but maybe just hear him out. He's fiercely devoted to the pack. I have a lot of respect for him and the whole Collective. In fact, they're a huge part of the reason I have this bar. Brick: …That so?

Selene: Yes. You see, when I discovered the cure, I aimed to establish a sanctuary, providing an escape for those seeking refuge from our shared fate. The Moonwood Collective and the Wildfangs, despite their differences, united to aid in the creation of this haven. It not only serves as a place for werewolves to gather freely, transcending pack biases, but also offers the werebies cure and houses an operational bunker, extending a lifeline to those enduring the same plight as Lou and I did during that dreadful ordeal.

Brick: Damn you sound like a book, that's so hot haha. But seriously that’s really cool, Selene. You know, I'm a builder, if you're ever needin' help with anything. Selene: I'll keep that in mind! Feel free to take a look around. I'm especially proud of the bar. It's the heart of the place.

Brick: I mean, solid work. Especially for a beginner. Selene: Hey, thanks!

As Selene gets back to scrubbing the bar, Brick's gaze drifts over to her shoulders, noticing the severe scars marred across her back.

Selene: ...They're horrifying, aren't they? Brick: What? No. They're tough. You survived that shit, baby girl. And that ain't easy. You're tough.

Selene: Well sometimes... it feels like after Greg, and then Lou, I...[shrugs] I don't know. Brick: …You need one of us who's gentler with you?

Selene: Brick... I wanted to be sure of something. I'm not... your fated mate or anything am I? Brick: I... don't know how to answer that question. Last time I tried I pissed someone off. Selene: It's not a trick question. Just tell me. Brick: No. You're not.

Selene: In that case...

. . .

Brick: [Whispers] You're gonna have to explain this to me later, because I'm really confused...

Selene: That's fine, it's cute when you're confused. And I think I've done enough talking...

Brick: Now you're talkin' my language...

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mark Maxwell at KSDK:

GRANITE CITY, Illinois — A single staple might've cost a candidate her campaign for mayor of Granite City.  Kim Benda, who sought to challenge incumbent Mayor Mike Parkinson, was removed from the ballot on Monday morning after her petition papers were found to be unbound — a technical violation that election officials said could compromise the integrity of signature collection.  Two other first-time candidates for local office were disqualified from the April 1 election after election officials ruled their nominating petitions failed to meet strict legal requirements, a decision that highlights the technical hurdles facing newcomers in local politics. Jennifer Flores, running for Alderman, was also removed from the ballot for a similar reason, in addition to mismatching names on her petition cover sheet and her circulating papers. Colton Baumgarten, a transgender candidate for mayor, fell short of the required number of signatures after successful challenges to her petition.

Flores predicted the decision to reject their petition signatures would galvanize the community behind their campaigns.  "When we come back as write-in candidates, it's going to be a whole another ball game," she said.  The sitting mayor shrugged off their accusations as ill-informed excuses and said he had to play by the same strict rules when he first mounted a campaign for public office.  "I don't mind elections," Parkinson said. "I'm not afraid to run against people." Parkinson did not file the official complaint objecting to his challengers' nominating papers. Instead, Michalene Millas, a county government employee who works in the Madison County Clerk's Office, filed the objection. Granite City spending records shows Millas is also on city payroll as a part-time bartender at The Mill, an entertainment venue operated by the city.  Millas did not appear at the hearing on Monday morning, but her mother, Mary Ann Millas, showed up and defended the incumbent mayor. 

KSDK's Mark Maxwell interviewed two of the three candidates (Kim Benda [running for Mayor] and Jennifer Flores [running for Ward 2 Alderperson]) disqualified from the ballot at the Monday election hearing at the Granite City Hall that I was at (and spoke in favor of two of the three candidates). The third disqualified candidate was Colton Baumgartner, who also ran for Mayor, did not attend the meeting.

Disclosure: I supported two of the candidates in question: Colton Baumgartner and Jennifer Flores.

[hmshermitcraft]

It was a simple mission: Get into the royal ball, dance and mingle and everything else, get someone to let the information she needed slip and escape to go hand it to the people paying her

It was a procedure Gem had repeated hundreds of times in just as many courts for just as many employers, she'd refined it to an art form

This time was in the court of King Ren, on behalf of a resistance force determined to overthrow him. Looking around at all the lavish decorations she could hardly say she wouldn't do the same. Milling around the edges of the room, she decided her target should be the large zombie woman near the tables, judging from how she seemed to be sassing the king to his face Gem could guess they were someone of importance.

She waited for her opportunity and struck up conversation, going through the motions of carefully balanced compliments, a few leading questions, learning the lady's name - which was apparently Cleo, they were proving annoyingly good at avoiding giving Gem the info she wanted.

She wasn't expecting the offer to dance, but... Well it was another good opportunity and it certainly helped that Cleo was fairly easy on the eyes, a damn good dancer too, it turned out

She was being held in a dip just from the end of their dance before the woman leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I didn't know rebel spies were such good dancers"

Shit. Oh no oh no that's not good-

She was pulled out of the dip and lightly pushed away, a small nod of the head pointing to an unguarded window in a secluded corner of the room which Gem very quickly made her escape through into the night

Idly feeling around her pockets later, she found a scrap of paper. On one side: every little bit of information she could have possibly wanted to know. On the other?

a phone number

Gem was left in the dark about her mystery woman for some time. She wasn't even sure if her name is Cleo, because the idea of a royal court member betraying the king is... Farfetched, to say the least.

Yet, all the information on the notes checks out as true, and a plan is made up takeover the kingdom.

Gem is left with a choice. One she chooses the most foolish option for - naturally.

She sneaks back into the castle, this time without the cover of a ball. The occupants are mostly sleeping at this time, the tower-like structure a shadow on the landscape. Gem scales the edge with practiced ease, channeling every bit of the goat she isn't.

She knows where the bedchambers are from the information Cleo provided, so she knows exactly which room to slip into.

The woman is asleep, sprawled out in covers of silken blue. Gem hushes the few snakes that wake and watch her as she leaves a note tucked under an empty glass.

On one side is details of the operation. Gem knows it's inexplicable, knows she's being ridiculous, but she trusts Cleo won't sell them out. On the other side is an apology for not texting her yet - her role does involve some secrecy, after all. But after this operation, she's sure Cleo will receive a text soon.

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love:Barbie girl,not a Barbie World

God himself only knows how bad things got and what went down between Blitzo and his sister Barbie Wire for her to hate the imp so much that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him in her life. Christ on a stick she could only hope that shitshow at that Summer camp was the last that she'd ever see of that emotional trainwreck but somehow she had a feeling her luck would be that shitty. The very idea was enough to drive her to drink and that was just exactly what she did, chugging down some of the strongest stuff they had in whatever dive or watering hole she could find to kill her brain cells. Okay so what she got a hangover out of it, it’d be fucking worth it if you asked her!!

At least that was what she tells herself at the time but the splitting headache and blurry vision she had the next morning was a very different story. Her brain feeling like someone was banging a wrecking ball against it as the crawling of a roach sounded way too loud, she opened her eyes to find an unfamiliar ceiling of what was no doubt some cheap ratty speak easy motel. Her body numb and sore all over which could only be signs that she had gotten laid and pretty damn well, Christ on a stick she could smell and feel the stickiness. Wincing as she sat up, vision clearing and adjusting while taking in a mental survey of the damage to the room.

Barbie:”Daaaaaamn when I get drunk, I get drunk…”*Fishing around for her phone as she found it on the floor, she checked the time to find but noticed something peculiar. Apparently her notifications claimed her photo gallery was loaded enough to a point her phone’s memory was almost full.*”How in the fuck? It wasn’t even anywhere 50% last night…….”*Sweet Anti-Christ she hoped she hadn't done anything stupid and fucked up like her brother had, but it was hard to top the guy who stole Verosika Mayday's credit cards after boning her, ditching her then maxing said cards out on horse riding lessons. Seriously, what was up with him and the horses?*

Deciding to chance it and hope there wasn't anything too cringe or incriminating, she unlocked her phone and started with the photos first in order oldest and most recent. Feeling her eyes widen and her jaw drop in absolute shock to find herself in what were very borderline compromising, NSFW type positions and poses. Nudes, lewd selfies and the like all ranging from very sloppy, open air tongue kisses between herself and all too familiar face. That damn little crossdressing pipsqueak underling of her brother's who was undercover trying to bust up her little summer camp smuggling operation!!

Now that she thought about it, apparently something happened not long after she made her escape from Blitzo and his clingy bullshit that went viral involving him and Mill-something, christ what were their names? It still escaped her but each and every picture she examined brought back hazy liquor fuelled moments of the past night in a hazy yet vivid lucidty. Making out with him as he felt up her tits and ass, oh especially her tight bubbly crimson red ass, the phantom sensations of swift stinging slaps making those cheeks clap, the feel of his breath she hugged and held his face in between her perky tits.....Sweet unholy whore of Babylon was she getting wet right now?!! Looking down at her crotch to find not only was that the case but what in all the 9 circles, how much jizz was that?

On further reflection at how sticky she was all over and especially between her legs but also the trashed state of her motel room, Barbie began to wonder not how far she went with..Moxxie, yeah that was the little dude's name, but just how the fuck did get this way? Deciding her memory refresh had to take the plunge down the night before rabbit hole as she began to examine the videos and suffice to say, if she found her body getting treacherously turned on before? Any and all sense of shame went out the window as her morbid curiosity took the helm, tapping play on the first one. Her face soon blushing so badly that it was making her natural skintone look pale as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped further as the audio kicked in.

The Videos all varied in terms of length ranging from a handful of seconds to minutes but all the same as each one kicked in after the other, it came back to Barbie like the rush of pain from taking a mountain goat headbutt to the cooch. Witnessing herself giving Moxxie a blowjob, her eyes glowing with lust as she bobbed her head on what could only be called the biggest cock she'd ever seen!! One that she saw herself choking on in the video as the imp grasped her curved horns and gave her an intense powerful facefucking. Only just occurring to the rehabbed ex circus girl that if she and Moxxie had their hands occupied here...then who the fuck in all the 7 sins was holding the camera?!

A query of course that briefly became forgotten as the video of her blowjob in what could only be considered a corner of whatever watering hole she'd been in last night transitioned into a video of her in what seemed to be the back seat of a very large car, a limo perhaps even? All she could tell was that she was sitting back moaning like a pornstar as Moxxie was eating her out and goddamn if he didn't seem to have quite the gifted tongue. Especially with how her video self was holding onto his horns for dear life as if not wanting him to pry off away from her slit. But then what followed was what had likely lead to her waking up here and now.

There was no mistaking the motel room even in its current undemolished state as it began with her and Moxxie making out in drunken passion as they stripped each naked. Whoever their camera-man or woman even going by the voice(s?) cheering them on as the sequence of videos indicated the passing of time and the progress of the demolition of the room. A dent in the wall as Moxxie pinned her up against it and jackhammered into her like some kind of sex machine, the couch knocked and flipped over as she was bent over it to be taken doggy style before pinned in a mating press with her legs spread up in the air. And of course the absolute declining state of the mattress and bedsheets as she and the secret stud went through a veritable kama sutra of positions.

Each and every video filled in the gaps as her haze cleared with clarity and her body tingled with the phantom sensations of pleasure. The final video playing showing her sleeping, curled in a cozy foetal postion, cum oozing from her overflowing snatch and crimson red skin glistening with sweat. All the while the cutely sleeping little possum was being carried away by some hellhound girl who was cradling him gently so as to not disturb him as the camera turned to show an imp girl who shot her a wink and a smile. Barbie of course managing to recognise her as Moxxie's dam wife who kept her attention as she left her a message.

Millie:"If you ever wanna know how good it is when you're sober, left you a note. Just give us a call and I'm sure we can arrange something..."*Millie of course punctuated this remark with a little kiss blown at the camera. The video finishing leaving barbie to reflect on this media gallery filled with evidence of what had to be the best fuck of her life that she just barely would've remembered. her pussy gushing as it hit her that after that night? No other guy would be able to even come close to that!!*

Barbie of course tried to debate the pros and cons of this as she mulled Millie's words over, finding the aforementioned note pinned on the nightstand by a knife. On the one hand this risked the chance of running into her emotional headcase fuck-up of a brother buuuuuuut it meant getting herself another dose of Moxxie love. It took a few minutes that felt like an eternity before Barbie decided "Fuck it...." and reached for the note. If anything least becoming a moxxie sex addict would be better than the booze and drugs sending her back to fuckdamn rehab, that was for sure!!

[satureja13]

Underwater Love

~ Organisations ~ The Resistance

The Resistance are a loose association of supernaturals (and even a few non magicals). They are acting against the Council and save and support supernaturals who had been suffering from the actions of the Council and other acts of violence. They operate in secret and none of them, except the three witches, knows of everyone who is with them. So even if the Council get’s the grip on one of them, the others cannot be revealed.

The Council does not even see a connection between Dtui and the Resistance. They think she acted at her own behalf. They wish they could get lost of her but are too afraid of her powers.

Theme Song: No Boy, No Cry - Stance Punks (which is also opening no 6 from the Naruto Anime. MV is with scenes from the anime. Original Stance Punks MV is -> here)

Inofficial Leaders

The three Witches Dtui, Demon mentor of Kiyoshi and caretaker at the Temple in Mount Komorebi Francine (Witch), grandmother of Jeb and potion master) Ms Coombes (species unknown), teacher of the boys and involved in the rescue of Vlad, Ji Ho, Siawa and Jack. Partner of Dtui.)

Inofficial Members (since there are no ‘official’ members ;) The Boys: Vlad, Saiwa, Ji Ho, Jack, Jeb, Kiyoshi

Barfolomew (Mawg. Half man - half dog, he’s his own best friend ;). Owner of the ‘Space (Balls) Bar & Grill & ‘Residence’ in Copperdale where homeless and traumatized teenagers find a home. Saiwa, Vlad and Jack lived there for around two years and Ji Ho about half a year. Like Jack and Vlad, Barfolomew likes Star Wars a lot.

Noxeema Jackson, vampiric Drag Queen of Moonwood Mills and caretaker (and nurse) of the Wolves Of Letters Bunker there. Now caretaker of the Boys at the Belgraves Institute in Copperdale.

‘Beware of Greg!’ Lunvik (the Werewolf), former menace of Moonwood Mill, now PE teacher of the Boys at Belgraves Institute and partner of Noxeema (I named them Grexee ;)

LY, athena and Fel-IX (Droids) live at the STaCKS in San Myshuno and helped Saiwa, Jeb and Barfolomew when they tried to find out what happened with Vlad’s dead body.

The Doctor (species unknown) at the Gang Doctor’s Hospital. Since Supernaturals are not allowed at common hospitals, they get treated at the Gang Doctor’s Hospital. The Doctor (Droid) at the Clinic at the STaCKS in San Myshuno. Overly obsessed with Jeb’s eyes. Sells all kind of ingredients too. From Herbs to body parts ö.ö’

Hector (Crocodile). Friend of Ji Ho and informant. Like LY, you can find him on almost each of my lots (with a pool ;)

Claude René Duplantier Guidry (Ghost), owner of ‘Guidry’s Paranormal Investigations Bureau’. We haven’t heard from him since he left for Sulani to rescue Ji Ho’s brother.

Horatio ‘Bones’ McCoy (Skeleton). Roams the graveyard in Forgotten Hollow and opens the ‘Diner de los Muertos’ in San Myshuno once a year (The whole chapter is -> here)

Bonehilda (Skeleton) and Magenta (Ghost). Friends of Ms Coombes. They live at Saarburg and helped Vlad and Saiwa with information how to claim Ji Ho back after he got bitten by Genji.

The Magic Guitar of Toro (Magic Guitar). Relic in the sanctuary of the temple at Mt Komorerbi. Likes to witness the boys’ ‘romantic interactions’.

Aleki Mete and Enrico Wagner from ‘The Organisation’ in Strangerville. They tried to rescue kidnapped and tortured Saiwa and Jack along with 16 year old Jeb.

last but not least DEATH - he helped Jeb and Saiwa to find out what happened to Vlad after he had died.

Here’s an old photograph from my ‘The Family Business’ story! Resistance members from a paralel universe: fltr Giga/Saiwa, Greatuncle Stefan, Jack and Vlad (omg look at them!)

In my ‘Love Hurts’ story, adult Vlad’s Castle is a haven for supernatural refugees and adult Jack is headmaster of the Impossible University and provides education for supernaturals who are not allowed to schools from non magicals. (that was june 2018!)

From the Beginning   ~  Underwater Love   ~  Latest

[houseofbrat]

They should have never let Catherine take the blame for the photo altering. Even if she did alter it herself, it only adds to everyone’s suspicion. I think she felt the need to put a photo out quickly and it backfired. Why didn’t the RP cover for her photo blunder?

Right. Literally anything would’ve been better than her of all people personally taking the fall for this! William would’ve been better, a random, unnamed intern would’ve been better, one of the kids fucking with the computer lmao idk. Just such a strange strange tweet to send out.

Someone should call KP and tell them we’re on mega thread #4 over here and we can’t have our mods getting sick from the “stress and fallout”, so just trot her out for a second or an audio message or even just a true statement sans doctored photos. And if she’s too unwell for that well gee maybe a smidge of transparency would gain them public support back . Nobody wants her medical info , just them to stop acting shady and disrespectful.  She can have her privacy and also stop the shiftiness and theatrics.  Unlike Reddit mods, the BRF gets paid. 

I think Kate is refusing to play ball. It's entirely possible she's had setbacks in her recovery or drew a line in the sand and said "I'm out until x/y/z date, so quit pushing," but this is a woman who's been in the public eye for 20 years. She knows how the media vultures and gossip mill operate. The speculation has now turned dark. We're getting everything from she's passed and they're covering it up, to she was injured in an 'incident.' Papers are running articles on William's rage issues. Kate could easily clear this up but she's choosing not to. It leads me to believe she's pissed at her husband and is enjoying watching him squirm. 

Just found out my best friend has independently fallen down the rabbit hole—which just illustrates how out of control this has gotten.

we’re both thinking it’s just a series of ‘own goals’ but are seriously hoping Catherine makes an appearance at Easter. If not, I think KP will have to make yet another announcement, and given how inept they’ve been, it’ll probably just make things even worse.

I’m just hoping she’s chilling with her kiddos, and is either not paying attention to the whole debacle or is highly amused by the shenanigans.

I would think that she is making an appearance at Easter but then wonder why KP wanted it to be known that she isn’t confirmed the attend Trooping of the Colour? Which was stupid on their part tbh

Princess Diana’s former private secretary on the matter from a CNN interview.

He’s kinda repetitious but still clear enough. He comes out critical of William for poor communications. Williams’s office created the vacuum of information which fueled the interest which fueled the out sized interest and the conspiracy theories.)

They definitely mishandled this situation. Supposedly Prince William just got a new private secretary. Hopefully they get a proper PR team again soon. While I’m not on team conspiracy theories and believe what has happened is exactly what we heard (Catherine had major surgery and is now recovering), they were way in over their heads in how they handled this.

Crazily, her secretary, Patrick Jephson, was my neighbor 8 years ago, super nice and very genuine guy. I definitely put stock in his POV.

This has been extremely poorly managed by KP. They’ve done irreparable harm to their image. The pressure they are now under for the next step/stage/messaging is immense. This is a defining moment for the royal family. Charles is not well, to what extent is not known. Kate is MIA and now three very questionable ‘proof of life’ photos have been released. The state of Will and Kate’s marriage is under a serious spotlight. It’s an information black hole. VERY rocky overall.

Charles and Kate are unwell. That is all. Kate is obsessed with her looks and image and she doesn’t want to be pictured looking anything but perfect that’s all. She will be back once she is looking like her old self. I honestly don’t believe the marriage in trouble stuff. Kate will never leave William that too so close to becoming the Queen? No chance.

Is it possible, in light of everything that has occurred so far, that Charles is letting Will have enough rope so Charles can use this PR disaster as his excuse to shutdown Kensington Palace office so everyone falls under his office at BP? Get rid of Will's staff and his vanity projects so he has to get on with the everyday drudgery that being a royal entails? It's not just film premieres and photo ops. It's hands on in the community at events with little or no fanfare. Service rather than PR grandstanding.

With no more competing offices, Charles can have his people oversee everything. That at least might get some consistency.

I kind of doubt it. William has the duchy money now. He can spend it however he wants.

I believe the most significant thing is that - at the very beginning of this whole story- the surgery wasn’t planned at all… she had the agenda full of duties, included a trip to Italy…  The narrative from the Palace was inconsistent from the first day. 

Reposting, because I think my comment got removed.

My takeaway from all the conspiracy theories floating around out there is that no matter what the truth is, look at what the main themes have become. Essentially, there are several theories about Will's behaviour and being a less than stellar husband. Also, the feeling that KP cannot be trusted. No matter what the truth is, the fact that these are the themes that have emerged is interesting.

William has based his entire reputation on being a nice protective family man. He doesn’t really have any other accomplishments or character traits that the public cares about. He put all his eggs were in the good dad/husband basket. Somehow, the Harry & Meghan crisis only bolstered that image. Now Stephen Colbert is doing bits about his alleged affairs, and all the normies know about his anger issues. Now personally, I’m the kind of person who thinks where there’s smoke, there’s fire. But even if there aren’t any flames here, Kategate has done some massive damage to Will’s reputation.

KP PR team is giving toxic boymom energy. Anything to protect their precious son.

Is anybody else getting annoyed at all the normies acting like Rose is William’s Camilla? I mean, maybe she is. Maybe they never even slept together. We don’t really know. But the assumption is getting on my nerves. Not every side chick is a Camilla!!

My mum calls my dads best friend (another straight male) his Camilla.

I was filling in my husband about this mess, and his comment was that he thinks maybe the PR team WANTS this drama unfolding because it keeps the royals in the news. Like essentially, "all press is good press." What does this community think? I was inclined to think that as the figurehead of a political state and a future king, Charles and William really can't afford this type of bad press, especially about DV. Obviously, the royal family do bring in money and tourism for the country, and part of that has always been an uneasy relationship with paparazzi and gossip rags, but given that QE II is gone and there are a lot of people who find them irrelevant and an unfair state subsidy, I think this would be a terrible PR move. Thoughts? Could their PR team be milking this?

Their PR team are likely pulling their hair out. "All press is good press" applies to celebrities who need to keep their names front and center to remain celebrities. The Palaces never want bad press. I think the issue is that William is incredibly stubborn and won't listen to their advice.

I've never been the type of girl to need closure when things come to an end, but if the season finale to this saga doesn’t answer every single question and include some bombshells I’d never even consider, I’m going to cry.

“She deserves her privacy, though!” Shut up, we’re all here for the same reason.

I just find it hilarious that the most interesting thing Kate has ever done in her life is disappear.

The whole ''she went shopping and we saw it, trust me bro'' thing is bad for them any way you look at it.

Either she wasn't really seen shopping and the story was completely fabricated with colaboration from the media, which would be pretty sinister and in line with everything else we've been getting lately, and at the least it would be a very North Korean-esque way of deceiving the public.

or

She actually did went shopping, was in ''public'' no matter how limited and controlled the public was, which means that she's physically capable + her face isn't bad or disfigured or whatever, as some people have suggested. Which portrays her as very irresponsible and weirdly uninterested in keeping up her image and popularity. Amidst all those very damaging rumors that could directly influence and traumatize even her children (forget about adults and public), she has time and will for shopping but not for a 10 second video, which is everything needed to dispell all the rumors once and for all?

All in all, terrible PR one way or another. The clusterfuck continues.

Do they actually think it’s a good look that she went shopping on St Paddy’s Day? She’s involved with the Irish guards and cancelled her appearance at their annual event… so she can’t work but she can pop out to the shops with Willy? Sure, Jan. Just fuck the Irish guards then right?! I mean, not that I remotely believe she went shopping. But another terrible PR bungle. These KP PR people are fucking idiots and I don’t understand why they still have jobs when they’re so clearly incompetent.

Even if she wasn't capable of attending a quick video message expressing her good wishes for the Irish guards etc etc would have worked wonders in terms of restoring good feeling towards them from the public and simultaneously would have quieted the conspiracy theorists. I don't buy she wasn't well enough to do a simple 1 minute video but was perfectly happy with a trip to the shops and watching sports with the kids where she would have been seen and possibly photographed. My personal view is that the trip to the shop didn't happen. There's no way that there's not a SINGLE snap taken on a mobile phone that's made it's way to social media.

I'm continually amazed at how badly the Waleses are botching all of this.

To be clear, I've been a royal watcher since they got engaged in 2010, and I'd definitely fall into more into the "fan" camp than not.

I've thought the conspiracy theories about all of this are nonsense. And even now after "Photogate", I STILL think they're nonsense and that what is happening is what they said - Catherine had serious surgery and needs time to recover.

But the artificially constructed Mother's Day photo is such a huge unforced error, made worse by Catherine then taking the fall for it.

Catherine's clearly not ready to show her actual face as it looks right now, and that's fine.

But then don't fake a picture! Post a quick video of William and the kids making breakfast in bed for Catherine for Mother's Day, or making cards or something. It'd still have the conspiracy theorists buzzing about why we're not seeing her, but it'd have been SO much better received by the general public than what they did.

She's absolutely entitled to her privacy, especially while she recovers. But the deal that the Royal Family has had with the press for decades now is that they get privacy most of the time in exchange for occasional, official, REAL pictures. It's clueless at best - and outright deceptive at worst - to do something like this and think no one will notice or care.

With the farmer’s market story, I’m even more convinced that Kate’s story is a red herring and there is something else happening they don’t want people to notice or know about.

This is still so odd. Either something is up (and I have no knowledge and make no inferences as to what or why) or a lot of people are profoundly bad at their jobs. Ok, the photoshop happens. Then they lie about it, even when they are trying to apologize for it. Why not put out a quick official and genuine photo of just her. If she isn't ready for camera's yet, put out a voice recorded statement saying, "I appreciate everyone's interest in my well being. Rest assured I am recovering well and I look forward to returning to my royal duties as soon as I am able". They could so easily kill all of this speculation and non-sense if things are as they say they are (she is taking car rides and shopping and up out and about). It would literally take 1 hour of her time at most, and instead KP's continued silence invites more speculation. You know what happens in physics why you make a vacuum? It gets filled. The same happens in the media/press. So again I say, either something is up (and I have no grounds with which to speculate what it might be) or this is the absolute worst PR advice and self-made crisis in recent memory.

Edit: Grammar

I joked about this in one of the earlier megathreads, but what if the *plot twist* in all of this is that Kate handles her own PR. I just remember when they got married how one of the little factoids that came out was that Kate did her own makeup for the wedding day. Like, royals! They're just like us!

Can someone answer why Royal Rota media are publishing these pics if there is a deal that they don't publish unauthorized photographs or was this a planned pap walk LOL? Is there a thread somewhere talking about this. I was listening to the Times (UK) Radio on YouTube today and the Assistant Editor for the paper (Kate Mansey) was unfairly criticizing listeners as strange people who are conspiracy theorists and says there isn't a pact or agreement that the family has with the media...yeah right LOL (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIKUvQB2Z_M). Have these people read about the Royal Rota and the unprecedented-in-the-modern-era pacts the royal family has made with the British media.

If the British media are posting it its because they got the ok to do so.

Their PR team needs to pick a lane. On one hand they're selling that Kate is healthy enough to be out and about twice in one weekend, walking around a farmer's market, watching her kids play sports, but on the other she's unwell to the point she had to fake a Mother's Day pic and pull out of an event in June? Which is it? Their messaging is all over the place. 

I hope that if we all take away one thing from this whole ordeal its that no matter how bad at your job you might think you are, you're still probably doing better than the KP PR team over the last couple of weeks so give yourself a pat on the back for a job well done and don't be so harsh on yourself.

what gets me and i know royal fans will call me a conspiracy theorist is that it's kinda obvious there's a story here. the impact or actual matter of it isn't what i'm questioning, but the motivation behind so many blunders. i am a writer/journalist and this entire story feels weirdly on edge of being something, anything.

like yes, let's presume kp was truthful from the beginning and she had abdominal surgery that took too long to recover from. great, but why throw her under the bus? or if all of this is a distraction, overplayed to the nines, what for? 

i am sure any tea is probably regular people tea to the max, like relationship dynamics, family stuff and whatnot. it's not like i believed she was killed and it was hidden, but usually when there's smoke there's fire and i'm curious about what fire, you know? 

i would love to be a fly on the wall and know what they disagree about, their relationship with staff and other royals. 

i find kate stylish and their wedding hype was charming, if a little gauche. i am against royals in general, not specifically them, but they could be great philanthropists if they wanted. 

the thing with Kate's personality (in public) is that it's nonexistent? i suppose that's the ideal, princess-like behavior that's expected from her. but i do wonder what happens behind the scenes with that. how curated it is x how many other blunders happened before.

The story seems to be that Will and Kate are going to find it much, much harder to be the center of the slimmed down monarchy than they realized.  Though if it turned out that they’d never really thought about how that was going to work on practice, I would believe you.  There aren’t as many working royals so the attention is on them, whether they want it to be or not.  The disappearing and the stonewalling isn’t super unusual for Will and Kate, though not previously to this extent, but we’ll see if they make any changes moving forward.  Judging from how this debacle has dragged on, I am guessing they won’t.

Well, I for one am very impressed by Kate's ability to emerge from her grueling 3 month surgical recovery looking like a radiant, bouncy 25 year old yoga instructor who doesn't have a care in the world.

[resonating-kitty]

Ghostsoap 🎤🎤🎤

45: Tell me a Secret

-

Late afternoon and another mission completed found the members of Task Force 141 in the familiar bar not to far from their current base of operations.

The group was spread out, milling around with themselves and others as they came down from the high stress of the field and into a more relaxed state. Well as relaxed as a group of soldiers could get.

As per usual, Ghost had himself tucked away in a booth in a dark corner, wall at his back and the room stretched out in from of him so he could see everything. A glass of bourbon sat untouched in front of him, also as per usual. Sometimes he would drink it and other times he would not. He still ordered it anyway.

Usually that would be Ghost's night. Sat in a corner, observing the room until he deemed it enough social interaction and retired back to his room at base. But as of late - for months actually if Ghost were keeping up with it, which he was not thank you - Ghost never remained alone for long.

Tonight would be no exception to that. Soon the opposite side of his booth would not longer be empty if the brief looks Soap kept shooting his way was anything to go by. Which they were, they always were.

So Ghost counted the seconds before Soap pushed away from the bar and sauntered over, sliding into his spot opposite of Ghost.

Exactly 35 seconds.

Soap was getting quicker with his decision to join him. Ghost couldn't find himself to be annoyed. Not with what they had hanging between them. Not after the events of Las Almas when Ghost almost lost Soap. Twice. So instead he tips his head and in greeting says, "Johnny."

"Ghost," Johnny would say back, take a sip of whatever he was drinking. Beer or scotch, just depending.

They would sit in silence until Soap broke it, starting a conversation that Ghost would listen to intently and respond to if he was in the mood. Sometimes he just made noises and let Soap just rattle on about nothing.

Recently Ghost has found himself more and more interested in the Scotsman. He found himself responding back more and more just to keep Johnny speaking.

More and more, Ghost found himself breaking that silence between them with innocent little questions that would grant him more and more insight into Johnny Soap MacTavish.

Tonight was going to be one of those nights.

"Johnny," Ghost started, voice low as he lifted his bourbon to his lips, "tell me a secret."

Soap arched a brow and Ghost shrugged one shoulder in a silent, only if you want.

Soap nodded, eyes scrunching up in thought. More silence as Soap seemed to really think about what secret he wanted to share. Ghost saw the moment he found something.

"When I was in basic training, there was this Drill Sergeant, real mean bas. Hated everyone, especially the new boots. " Soap began, fingers playing idly with his glass - scotch this time. "He took an exceptional disliking ta me."

Soap's lips lifted in a smile but it was a sad one. It had Ghost resting his forearms on the table, leaning forward in the booth. Giving Johnny his undivided attention.

"He used ta drill me harder than all the rest. I never could do anything right, no matter how hard I tried. He would always find something to get in my face over, make me do pushups until I physically couldn't anymore then tear into me even more. He would tell me I would never be a good solider, that all I would ever do is get all my teammates and then myself killed."

Ghost hadn't realized his hands had balled into tight fists until Soap reached out, brushing his fingers tentatively over them. Immediately Ghost opened his hands, letting drag his fingers across his gloved palm. Those grey blue eyes had gone distant with memory as Soap continued.

"I remember one day he took us to the gym. Sparring lessons. I got the unfortunate luck of being the punching bag for him to us to demonstrate moves. That was possibly the worst day of my military career."

"Johnny," Ghost's voice was a deep rumble as anger surged through his veins. He wasn't going to make Johnny finish this. Was regretting even asking because he never imagined something like this.

But Soap shook his head, slid his hand down to squeeze Ghost's wrist. "I wanna. Haven't told anyone this before."

"No one?" Ghost questioned, eyes intense. "What about medical?"

"Didnae go to medical. He told me I better not. Pretty sure my ribs were bruised if not cracked. I remember that I couldn't breath. Everything hurt from the top of my head to the tips of my toes." Soap frowned, tipping his head down to stare at the table, "The bastard asked me if I'd had enough. If I was ready to quit and go back home. I realized then that all that time he'd been trying ta get me to leave the military."

Ghost watched, eyes widened, as Soap slowly looked up at him. He was smirking, eyes hardened in determination.

"Wasn't gonnae let him win. Wasn't gonnae ever give up. So I put my heart and soul into doing just that. I think he realized it in the end, that he would never break me, never drive me away."

"You ever think about leaving?" Ghost asked after a beat, curious.

"Aye. When I was nursing my ribs and before he said that to me, I thought about it. Back then I didnae know if it would be worth it." Soap answered, honest. He leaned forward, reaching out to brush his fingers across Ghost's covered cheek. "I'm very glad that I didn't quit."

Ghost grabbed Johnny's hand before he could pull away and pulled his mask up to briefly brush his lips against his knuckles. He couldn't say the words now, not here in this bar, but Soap's beaming smile told him that he understood loud and clear.

They sat there for a while longer. Ghost had pulled his mask back down but he still held Soap's hand loosely in his own.

"You ever know what happened to your old drill sergeant?" Ghost asked after a while.

"Nah," Soap shook his head, "As far as I know he's still tormenting boots."

Ghost hummed at that.

He'll need to have a chat with Price. Find out exactly which basic training camp Soap went to. Maybe even ask to take a little trip the next time they were in between missions.

[vjinstruments426]

Exploring the World of Industrial Machinery: Ball Mill Manufacturers, FBD Fluid Bed Dryers, and Spheronizers

In the realm of industrial machinery, three key players stand out: Ball Mill Manufacturers, FBD Fluid Bed Dryers, and Spheronizers. Each plays a crucial role in various industries, contributing to the global economy.

Ball Mill Manufacturers

Ball mills are indispensable in industries such as mineral processing, paints, and ceramics, among others. They are used for grinding and blending materials into very fine powders. The manufacturers of these machines are known for their engineering prowess and commitment to quality. They ensure that these machines are designed and built to withstand the rigors of heavy-duty operations, while providing optimal performance.

FBD Fluid Bed Dryers

Next, we have the FBD Fluid Bed Dryers. These machines are essential in the pharmaceutical industry, where they are used for drying granules, powders, and other particulate materials. The principle behind their operation is simple yet effective - hot air is introduced into a plenum below a perforated plate, and as the air rises, it lifts and mixes the material, allowing for efficient and uniform drying. Manufacturers of these machines prioritize precision, reliability, and energy efficiency, ensuring that their products meet the stringent requirements of the pharmaceutical industry.

Spheronizers

Last but not least, we have Spheronizers. These machines are used to form spherical pellets from a wet mixture or granulation. The process involves spinning the material in a friction plate, causing the particles to roll and form into spheres. This technique is widely used in the pharmaceutical industry, particularly in the production of controlled-release drugs. Spheronizer manufacturers focus on ensuring that their machines offer high levels of precision and consistency, which are critical in pharmaceutical applications.

In conclusion, Ball Mill Manufacturers, FBD Fluid Bed Dryers, and Spheronizers are key players in the industrial machinery sector. Their contributions are vital in various industries, particularly in pharmaceuticals, where precision, reliability, and efficiency are of utmost importance. As we continue to advance technologically, we can expect these machines to evolve and become even more efficient and reliable, further solidifying their roles in the industrial sector.

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

Could you make a brief description of your main/favourite OCs or other important things, I have a bad memory and am confused 👉🏻👈🏻

HELLO! hi hi hi uh. hellow sienna :3 yes of course. i will choose a VERY MINIMAL AMOUNT OF OCS just the ones i’m always ranting about. ALSO I KNOW YOU SAID BRIEF BUT. I AM VERY BAD AT THAT SO HERE’S WHATEVER THIS IS:

1. GEMMA. (Gemma the ??? technically)

Gemma is a green… bird. We do not know what kind of bird she is. She’s Bean’s mom and she runs the criminal underworld of hybrid mobians, trafficking, and mobian puppy mills. She’s not particularly mean or violent though, the joke being that she’s also omnipotent and can break the fourth wall, just with the dark twist that she’s always known everything ever and knows she’s an OC and that I’m even talking about her right now, hence why doing the immoral shit that she does is not ultimately a bad thing since no one she hurts is real. ALSO, she’s based off of Gemma Teller-Morrow from Sons of Anarchy so if you ever draw her, try to make her look like a bird version or Katey Segal :)

2. BRANDO. (Brando the Hawk lol)

Jet’s Dad. Looks like Jet but if he was an alcoholic who somehow manages a receding hairline. Hansu once drew him with a monocle and top hat as a joke but I found it so hilarious we might just keep it. He sounds like James Lance (actor) if his voice was more broken and growly and mumbly, and if he was human he’d have Lance’s hair as well. (He misses his wife, Sienna)

3. ADAM!!! (Adam the Albatross)

Adam is Storm’s dad and he looks like him but instead of being round and fluffy strong, he’s abtastically ripped. You see how I draw mobians you know what’s up LOL. anyways, he was a teen dad and did a really good job, and he works at Prison Island. Well, he did, now it’s blown up, so he works at the inland prison instead. He’s a bit of a manchild and his girlfriend is Jewel’s mom Opal (hehe Lea’s OC) because he sorta has a milf problem. He’s like if Jesse Pinkman was an adult instead of an oversized teenager, yet is still quite childish (in a cute way! he eats dino nuggets for dinner). Think “drawing Storm but for a thirsttrap” and you’ve nailed him

4, CAREY AND DARLA!!! (Carey the Jackdaw & Darla the Swallow)

You really think I’m gonna just include one??? These are Wave’s parents and I’m in love with their designs. Carey is a jackdaw with vitiligo which means he gets patches of white feathers in certain places due to black pigment being a recessive genetic trait due to the Salem trials (long story, you asked for the short version lol). He dyes his front feathers red to be like Party Poison from Danger Days, and often wears a pair of working denim jeans that are kinda stained with oil and paint but that makes them look cooler. He’s Eggman level smart and super witty, but extremely humble and only wants to use his knowledge to help other people. It’s a jackdaw thing. He loves shiny stuff (read: he loves machinery) and also adores his wife. Such a wife guy but in the genuinely good and wholesome way. SPEAKING OF, DARLA IS A BUBBLEGUM PUNK TO ME! She was part of all the mobian riots in the 80’s and operated an illegal shelter for homeless youth via her massive roller rink that’s dead centre in her city that she refuses to sell for luxury condos or parking lots. That is HER block of land and she’s not moving it, so she helps keep kids (especially mobian youth who are disproportionately affected) off the street. She loves wearing full denim and is an array of blue colours. Also, despite her husband being super fucking tall, she’s also pretty tall for a lady! Very round too though, like a feathery ball, very cute and round and pudgy I love her.

I actually have acceptable fanart of these two on hand because Infifi drew them once so here’s that:

[scotianostra]

On January 26th 1861 Edinburgh heard the sound of the one o'clock gun for the first time.

Walking along Princes Street when the gun goes off separates the locals from the tourists, one group stand in bewilderment, while the Edinburgh populace just walk on as if nothing has happened.

With an electric cable stretching over 4,000 feet from the rear of the gun to the Royal Observatory on Calton Hill, the original 18-pound gun was operated via a mechanical trigger at precisely 1pm each day apart from Sunday, Good Friday and Christmas Day.

The 94-pound artillery weapon was provided by the Royal Artillery, and intended as an alternative to the Calton Hill Time-Ball. This other method of telling the time, positioned atop the Nelson Monument, was hindered by the infamous Haar rolling in from the North Sea, causing the ball to be out of the line of sight, with the definitive report of a cannon favoured over the Time-Ball.

Since its early days, the gun has moved from the Half Moon Battery over to Mill’s Mount Battery, and the weapon of choice is now a L118 Light Gun. This particular weapon has been in service for over twenty years, and is traditionally fired by a volunteer District Gunner from the 105th Regiment Royal Artillery.

To date, the longest-serving gunner has been Staff Sergeant Thomas “Tam the Gun” McKay MBE, who fired the Edinburgh landmark daily from 1979 until his retirement in 2005.

His nickname was passed onto a GNER locomotive during a naming ceremony at Edinburgh Waverley train station in 2006 to commemorate his career.

Tam was never short of an audience, folk from all over the world wanting to witness the firing of Edinburgh’s one o’clock gun, the firing of the gun is still a highlight for those visiting the castle.

In 2002 he published a book of anecdotes and history relating to the gun entitled ‘What time does Edinburgh’s One O’clock gun fire?’ the proceeds of which went to t the Army Benevolent fund for whom he had undertook fundraising work for.

Tam is in three of the pics I have posted.