#cause cards through stores report positively all year long even if you only used it once

[foldingfittedsheets]

Tried to call and change my name with a credit card. I couldn't do it online, so I called and I was somehow unprepared for her to ask, "What is the reason for the change?"

I stared into space and said, "Uh... gender."

There was a very long pause before she went, "Alrighty."

[unmaskedagain]

Teenage Rebellion

I wanted to do something completely different. And I realized I had never really used Adrien’s character that much. Apart from the standard salt. So I decided to give him a better voice. Test my skills with a new character.

Adrien didn’t know what happened. What snapped inside of him? But he just knew that, one day, while his father was giving him a lecture and laying out demands, a funny little word popped in to his head; no. Then he started to wonder if he could say no. Then he heard Marinette her new internship only allowed her to work so many hours because she was only a kid. Then he heard something magical; child labor laws. He looked them up and was amazed. He wanted to know more; wanted to know what his options were. So he went to Marinette and Nino. Then explained that he had rights. When he mentioned about getting taken out of school, they gave him options of how to retaliate.

           Nevertheless, it would be weeks before he decided to implement his new idea; not daring to yet. When he finally struck, he knew exactly what the final straw had bene.

“You’ll be taking Miss Rossi to the gala next weekend,” Gabriel told his son.

           Adrien blinked, “No.”

           The room went silent. Nathalie and gorilla looked stunned. Gabriel glanced at his son, “What do you mean no. This is not up for debate.”

Nothing ever was, Adrien thought, and that was problem.

“You’re right,” Adrien nodded. “Which is why my answer is still no.”

           Gabriel assessed his usually obeying son. “I’m not asking.”

“And yet my answer is no.”

“And if you could no longer attend that school of yours?” Gabriel threatened. It always worked.

           Adrien shrugged. “Then I will no longer model.”

           More stunned silence.

“Adrien,” Gabriel pinched his nose but was cut off.

           Adrien crossed his arms, “You can’t make me model.” He looked around at his three caretakers. “And if you try, I’ll scream loud enough for every reporter in Paris to hear me. And while we’re on the subject; I read something about child labor laws. You’re breaking them. I’ll scream that too. If that doesn’t stop, if I don’t start working normal kid hours and eating a healthy amount of food,” He threw the last part at Nathalie. She had been instructed to keep him on a strict diet. “I’ll go to the police. CPS. The news.”

           Gabriel opened his mouth to speak again but again was cut off.

“Even if you try to keep me in here,” Adrien added. “It will just look worse. People will question where I am. The Brand will hurt. My friends will look for me. They’ll ask questions. They’ll spread what it’s really like for me. How unhappy I am. My fans will riot. Even more when I finally do get out of here and go straight to the police, a reporter; maybe do a tell-all on Alya’s blog. Oh wait, I already left several copies of that already previously recorded interview that will be released if I don’t show up for class for a few days.”

           The three adults stood with opened mouths. Nathalie was the first to recover, “Adrien, we can discuss this…”

“No!” Adrien glared. “I’m done. You worked me to the bone, starved me, neglected me,” He threw that viciously at Gabriel who flinched, “Attempted again and again to isolate me from my friends. All of which is called child abuse. And now you want to control my romantic interests; tell that shrew Rossi to stay the hell away from me. I will never work with her again. Let me make this very clear. I have evidence of the child labor laws broken. I have video proof the various meals I’ve been served that never once met my nutritional intake. Recordings of various times you threatened me with my removal from school if I didn’t meet various demands and achievement. I have witness testimony from other models, my friends, current and former Agreste fashion employees of my treatment. I have no trouble releasing every last bit of information.”

           Adrien took a breath after his rant. “This is my life. I will live it my way. From now on, one third of every paycheck I earn, and I do know the amounts, will be deposited into my personal bank account. The rest of into the saving account mother set up for me. In fact, I want the last six months of checks deposited the same. I want freedom. And if I have to destroy you to get it, I will. Push me, and I’ll push back.” With that, he spun around and left the room. Gorilla followed after him dutifully.

“What do we do?” Nathalie asked. “About Adrien, sir?”

           Gabriel glared harshly at where his son at stood, “What can we do?” As much as it killed him to admit it, his son had them on the edge of cliff and looked rather happy at the idea of pushing them off. “I don’t look good in prison orange.” He sighed. “We’ll get him back under control soon enough.”

           Nathalie nodded. Neither did she. “I’ll call Rossi and tell her plans have changed.” Everything had changed.

           Later that day, Nathalie presented him with his bank card that she taken at Gabriel’s demand and gave him a stiff nod. He turned with a beaming smile to Gorilla, “We’re getting McDonalds!”

           Nathalie let out a cry of protest but was ignored.

           That day Adrien had his first big mac and fries. It was the biggest meal he’d eaten in months, so his stomach hurt a little, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

           He got a call from his father when he was finished. When his dad immediately began to yell at him about not following his diet; Adrian hung up on him. The blond shook his head. He had warned his father; push and Adrien would push back.

           He looked around and spotted some punk skaters skating down the street. Adrien smirked. Oh, he had an idea.

           Marinette had been thrilled when he called to see if she was free to go shopping with him. Less thrilled, when they wound up at Hot topic.

“Why?” The bluenette whined. “Just why? I have so many ideas.”

Over the last two years, the two had become really good friends. They got even close when Chat Noir and Ladybug revealed their identities to each other. Mostly because they lost their crushes on each other. Marinette on Adrien. And Adrien on Ladybug. It was just too weird for either of them.

“This is what I want!” Adrien smiled as he looked through the band Ts and a lot of nightmare before Christmas merchandise.

“But sunshine!” Marinette pleaded. She started to pull out shirts and accessories that look like they would fit Adrien’s build. “Happiness?”

           Adrien laughed, “Storm cloud. Make my father miserable.”

           Marinette paused. “Happiness.” She nodded. She had wanted to stick it to Gabriel Agreste for years; the rotten bastard.

           The girl ended up approving seven potential outfits from Hot Topic. Adrien bought them all. Then Marinette dragged the boy to other various stores. If Adrien was going to punk rock; then it would be a fashion and, dare she say it, chic punk rock look. Though she did have to drag Adrien away from the piercing salon.

           When Adrien got home, Gabriel attempted to discipline him again but was met with stony silence. Adrien pulled out his phone and played a recording of Gabriel chastising Adrien not being thin enough and that his diet would be limited to 1000 calories a day.

           The blond boy raised an eyebrow, “I can have this trending within the hour. Your move.”

           Gabriel growled and stomped off. He had honestly thought his son had been jesting about the recordings, about evidence, or at very least could be cowed not use any of it. He was wrong, apparently; very wrong.

           When Adrien left for school the next mornings, he caused his father to have a panic attack. Gone was the preppy, sunshine child the world was used to. The fifteen-year-old Adrien wore dark green ripped jeans; a studded leather jacket over a black My Chemical Romance shirt. He wore combat boots and eyeliner. “You were warned,” Adrien told his father on his way out of the door. “Keep pushing though.”

“Oh my god, he’s dead,” Nino said to Adrien when he got to class. “Gabriel Agreste.” He started to pretend to tear up. “You want something for so long. And when it finally happens. You wonder what to do.” He suddenly straightened. “I know let’s throw a party. It will end will a conga line over the SOB’s grave.”

“My father’s not dead,” Adrien rolled his eyes as he took his seat in the back. When Marinette had been moved there, he had follow much to the complaints of Lila. “Though it was a pretty close call this morning.”

           Most people hadn’t recognized him as he walked through the halls of the school. It was a relief to just be normal.

           When the other students arrived, he had gotten double glances. The first was when they said hello, then quickly looked again when they realized something was very, very wrong.

“Holy shit,” Juleka said loudly. The loudest anyone had ever heard her speak. She blushed. “Sorry. You look rocking, Adrien.”

           Rose just kept blinking at him. “But, but, team sunshine?” She whispered. Adrien cooed. The two had been dubbed that by the class after a bad storm came in and all the class got soaked but the two kept smiling and trying to cheer people up.

“Team positive?” He offered.

           A squeak let him know, Marinette had arrived. She looked over him, “What did I do?” She sat went to her desk. “What did I do?”

“Not enough,” Nino stated. “A little bit more. And we could’ve been doing the Cha slide over Gabriel’s grave right now. Step your game up, dudette. Cause you’re slacking.”

           Marinette just closed her eyes and prayed for patience; having boys as her best friends wasn’t easy. Adrien and Nino had become her closest friends, after Lila came and tried to tear everyone away from her. She sort of succeeded. Alya was no longer her friend. Neither was Mylene, Sabrina, Ivan, or Kim. Everyone else in chose to believe the girl they’d known forever over the some chick they just met. Unfortunately, this cause Alya and Nino to break up. Nino was fine with remaining a neutral about whether Lila was a liar, though he thought she was, to keep the peace with his girlfriend. But Alya hadn’t budged and kept harping on the situation; about Nino being friend with Marinette. Nino had no choice but to end things which just cause the girl to get even angrier.

“Group selfie?” Adrien asked. “Juleka, you too. Come on, Rose.”

           The five grouped together, and snapped a picture of Adrien’s phone, “Hashtag: new Look, new me. Hashtag: Smells like Teen Spirit.”

           More gasps were heard as Lila and Alya, their posse, arrived. “What happened?” Lila frowned.

“Got a new look,” Adrien grinned.

           Lila glared. She had been warned that Adrien had gotten out of Gabriel’s control but hadn’t believed it. “You won’t wear that on our date to the gala, right?”

“We’re not dating,” Adrien said bluntly. “I’m not going to the gala with you.” He shook his head. “I’ve told you too many times already, Lila. I will never date you. I don’t like you. I have never liked you. I’m sorry.”

           Lila huffed, “Your father!” She started.

           Adrien cut her off, “Can my ass!” He yelled. “I don’t care. Call it teenage rebellion or whatever. But It’s my life. Get over it.”

No, Lila thought, this couldn’t be happening. Adrien was her ticket in. At the gala she’d be on his arm and get attention from all sorts of celebrities.

           Alya bristled on behalf of her friend, “You don’t have to be so mean.”

           Nino glared back, “He wouldn’t have to be if she could take a hint. No means no.”

“He could give her chance,” Alya continued. “How will he know if he really likes or not if he doesn’t.”

“Because he said he doesn’t,” This time it was Rose who spoke. “Adrien, and everyone else, is allowed to decide that they don’t like someone; that they don’t want to date them. You should respect that.”

           Lila started crying, big fake tears rolled down her cheeks, “I like you so much,” She pleaded. “I know you’d like me too if you got to know.”

           Adrien scoffed, “I know exactly who you are, Lila. And that’s the root of why I don’t like you.”

           At this Lila had to force herself not to glare. Fine, she thought, if he wanted to be like that, then she had another card to play. “Marinette put you up to this, didn’t she? She’s been bullying me. And got inside your heard with all her mean words; that’s why you don’t like me.”        

  Everyone on Lila’s side turned fierce looks toward the Asian girl, accusation on their tongue.

“How could you?” Mylene asked. “You’ve changed, Marinette.”

“Not cool, Bro,” Kim added. He had been crushing on Lila for months and followed her around like a puppy.

“You’re as bad as Chloe ever was,” Alya shook her head. “I can’t believe you’d hurt Lila over your jealously!”

Adrien wasn’t having it, “I. Don’t. Like. You!” He yelled at Lila. “I didn’t like you the moment you first came to this class. It has nothing to do with Marinette. It’s you. You’re the problem. Get it?  Got it? Good.” He looked at Lila’s friends. “Marinette is not a bully. She is one of my best friends; my sister, even. And unlike you, she actually listens to me; what I want. Not pant after Lila’s every word.”

The class blinked, stunned because they never really heard Adrien tell anyone off before.

“Well, who are you taking to gala,” Lila asked snidely, and gave a quick mean look at Marinette.

“His boyfriend!” Nino suddenly blurted. “Ouch!” He hissed.

           Marinette had kicked the glasses-wearing boy’s chair as hard as she could.

           Adrien just went with it. He had come out to most of the class the year before and never made his sexuality a secret; he liked guys, or at least preferred them. His desire for Ladybug had come from his love had for the freedom he got whenever he was Chat Noir. He was happiest as Chat Noir, and seeing as Ladybug had always been present; he thought he’d be happiest with Ladybug. He was only a little right.

“He’s looking forward to it,” Adrien smiled, or at least, whatever guy he could convince to go with him, hopefully would be.

“What were you thinking,” Marinette hissed at Nino as soon as the bell rang ending first period, and they were in the halls.

“What?” Nino asked. “You’re the only who can make an attempt on Gabriel Agreste? Nope. Don’t think so. First best friend gets dips.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Adrien whispered.

“So, borrow Marinette’s,” Nino shrugged.

           Marinette gasped, “I’m not sharing my boyfriend with Blond Wonder over here.”

“What? Can’t take the competition?” Nino asked.

“I’ll end you, Lahiffe!”

“That’s not a no.”

           Adrien laughed.

           Juleka brushed by him, “I can ask Luka if he’s free,” She asked with a whisper. “If you want.”

           The three paused. It was a good suggestion. “Aurore would come for blood,” Their newest friend had the biggest crush on the guitarist.

           The rest of the school had been interesting. Adrien’s photo was trending; though nearly everyone in school had tried to get look at him.

           When Adrien got home from school that day, it was to Gabriel and Nathalie’s angry looks. They had tried to do damage control. But for everything they released, Adrien had been quick to either deny their claims via tweets. Or lease video on Instagram about his new fashion direction.

“This is enough, Adrien,” Gabriel stated calmly. “You’ve gone too far. You will be escorting Miss Rossi to the gala, and this look will never be seen again. Am I understood?”

           Adrien pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and put it on speak, “Hey man, do you still have that video of my dad pulling me out of school, during an important, test to go to a photoshoot?”

“Sure do.” Nino replied smugly.

“What about all the videos I sent you from overnight shoots?” He asked. “Where I worked like all night. Videos that clearly depicts that child labor laws were broken.”

“Saved on several different clouds.” Nino answered. “I can have them online in five minutes. And sent to the police and CPS in ten.”

“Thanks, talk later.” Adrien disconnected the call. “You were saying?” He asked his father. Silence was all he got. “Thought so. I’m taking my boyfriend to the gala.” He turned around. “I’m going out.”

           Gabriel pinched his nose, “He’ll ruin us.”

“No sir,” Nathalie said. “He’ll destroy us.”

           Adrien showed up at Marinette’s room an hour later, with a pleading look on his face and a box of hair dye.

           Marinette took it with a sigh, “Are you sure it’s not me you’re trying to hurt.”

“It’s not permanent?” He offered weakly. “Should last a week, maybe less. I wash my hair a lot.”

           When Adrien came to school sporting bright blue locks, three girls fainted.

“Awesome,” Nino high-fived the former blond. “How’s your dad?”

“Collapsed and fell down the stairs.” Adrien gave a small smirk. At the sight of Adrien’s hair, Gabriel had clutched his arms and just fell. “He was near the bottom so he was hurt too much.”

“Righteous,” Nino said and turned to look at Marinette in her seat, “What part of bestie gets dibs do you not understand?”

           Marinette crossed her arms and sniffed, “Maybe I’m not the one needs to step their game up.”

“What?” Nino gasped. “Oh it’s on!”

           Nino would later met Adrien and Marinette for ice cream, he’d come on the back of some guy’s motorcycle. “Hey,” Nino waved. The dude he was with gave them a stiff nod and a cocky smirk. He was blond with a cool haircut, tattoos, and two different colored eyes. “This is Jace. I know him through my cousin Simon. He’s seventeen. He has tattoos, drives a motorcycle, dress primarily in black and leather, and he’s been to jail. He agreed to be your date to the gala.”

           Marinette and Adrien just stared. Adrien blinked too hard to shake the shock away, “Wow you really want my dad dead.”

           He blushed red. Jace was rather attractive. He was the type who knew just how hot he was too.

“Hi I’m Marinette,” Marinette waved to Jace. “You’re freakishly hot. And if you manage to take out Nathalie too, I’ll be your best friend.”

           Jace chuckled. This could be fun. Maybe Simon hadn’t steered him wrong when he told him to hang out with his cousin if he had the time. He had research Nino and his friends to the last detail, just in case. “Hi Marinette. I’ll do my best to try. My sister Isabelle and my best friend Clary love your MDC designs. They’d kill for them. Won’t even make it look like an accident.”

           Marinette blushed, “Pull this off and I’ll design the dresses of their dreams for free.”

           Jace fought the urge to wince. Failure was no longer an option. Clary and Izzy would hunt him down if he failed. So would Magnus for that matter. He’d been wanting to meet the young designer since he saw Jagged Stone’s latest red carpet look. And then Alec wouldn’t be happy about his sulky husband… even if he turned Jace into a toad.

           Jace nodded and put an arm around the pink hair boy, “Let’s make it count.” The smaller boy blushed. Jace gave him a wolfish grin. “This is going to be fun.”

           The rest of week had Adrien dodging a whining Lila and her attempts at getting her hooks into him in time for the Gala. She had been Akumatized three times over it. A fourth when Adrien had enough and got her mother to come to school and where truths were revealed.

           Alya still refused to budge on the matter. Lila was Ladybug’s best friend after all. She couldn’t be lying, or so she said. Which caused most the class to groan. Marinette didn’t understand. After Ladybug had disavowed the Ladyblog for too many lies, asked Alya to take down Lila’s stories, and even went as far as getting a new fox hero (Juleka); she thought Alya would’ve wised up now.

           Sabrina who had been converted back to light side after Lila’s mom had confirmed they had only ever lived in Italy other than France, said that Alya was probably just stubborn. She would have to admit that she struggled that she turned her back on her best friend, ruined her relationship with her boyfriend, and been a bad friend to most of the class for nothing. It was a hard pill to swallow.

           Outside of school, his dad and Nathalie’s attempts to get him back under their thumb had gotten desperate. The first time they took his phone and his laptop. He had already gotten a prepaid one hidden in his room, once he got back to his room, he texted Marinette and Nino. Second later, a video of Gabriel ranting at his son for failing to be perfect during a photoshoot and threatening to remove him from school had surfaced. It took the media by storm.

           Less than an hour later, someone knocked on his door.

“Come in,” He called from his bed.

           Nathalie stared at him for a moment. “You posted the video.” She sounded like she still couldn’t believe it. “We didn’t think you would.”

“Now you know better.” Adrien stated. “My things.”

“This will hurt the brand,” Nathalie said as she place his phone and laptop on the bed. “Hurt the business. Stock prices will from the bad press.”

           Adrien put down the book he’d been reading and leaned forward, “Then maybe you and dad will finally learn this is a game you won’t win,” He said. “I’ll see Gabriel Agreste’s entire legacy burned to ashes before I give in.”

“…Your mother would’ve done the same,” Nathalie whispered and was gone from the room before Adrien could say anything else; door closed behind her.

           The day of the Gala, Saturday, Adrien had go to Marinette’s first thing in the morning. He left suit his father had laid out for him the day before in the fireplace. It wasn’t lit but he knew his dad would get the message.

           Marinette had designed him and Nino suits for the dance. Adrien had made sure to add his two best friends to the Gala’s invite list months ago. The host of the Gala’s daughter was a big fan of the blond; it took an autograph or two to get two more invites. Normally, Adrien would wear a classic black suit of his father’s design.

           Adrien wanted something different, something to make everyone talk, something to go with his pink hair. When he told Marinette this, she got a spark in her eyes, and he knew he’d get exactly what he wanted. And he did.

           The pink-haired boy arrived to the Gala on the back of a motorcycle to the stunned faces of the Paparazzi. The valet who took the keys from Jace had looked excited at parking the bike though.

Adrien wore a slim fitted glittery sliver suit, that under the right light reflected a rainbow look, with a black tie and shoes. Jace wore ripped jeans, tight sleeveless undershirt, and his leather jacket. His tattoos on his neck was plain to see and he had on a eyebrow ring he didn’t before. Jace wrapped his arm around Adrien and escorted him inside. Just as the paparazzi suddenly got their senses back.

The pair found Marinette and Nino by the refreshments. They walked right by an angry Lila who looked ready to kill. She’d come with Alya, and how his father managed to swing that on such short notice, Adrien didn’t know. Nino wore a black and green suit. Marinette wore a sparkly midnight blue pixie dress. Marinette’s boyfriend Connor had arrived not after. Connor brought his friend Cassandra who seemed interested in Nino.

           Adrien and Jace danced after speaking with the four a bit. As the two glided across the dance floor, Adrien found it hard to keep an eye out for his father when Jace kept looking at him so…

           Well in a way that left him frazzled.

           However Adrien’s first clue that his father had arrived was the sound of someone choking.

           And then Nino shouted, “Yes, I did it!” Was his second clue.

“Gabriel’s fainted,” Nathalie yelled. “Call for an ambulance.”

“That’s one,” Jace whispered in his ear. “Care to make it Two for Two.”

           Adrien looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding earnestly. A second later, Jace’s lips caught his own. Then they were making out on the dance floor.

“Nathalie’s down,” He heard Marinette cackle. “Poor thing. Must be the stress.”

           The kiss broke. Jace smirked down at Adrien, “Not bad Agreste; might make this a permanent thing.”

            Adrien hid his blushing face in his date’s chest; content to ignore the chaos erupting around them.

           Freedom never felt so good.

[unordinaryquotes]

UnOrdinary Chapter 192 Review

-At least John can realize Zeke’s just a bitch. How long is that gonna last though? We know our supreme king will has no problem using others

-Guys I’m crying. Arlo showing the caring side of him is amazing and the fact that he only really does it for Remi is sweet.

-Remi basically saying “If it weren’t for you telling me that, I would tear John apart” I’m also glad that Arlo and Remi are continuing with Arlo’s rest period.

-Get you a blonde tsundere who calls you by a nickname when tired.

-It’s not a club, it’s a treehouse gathering. Also, not Remi’s fault that literally everyone but you likes her and is willing to go along with her ideas. John admitting he’s new is kinda crap as well, weren’t you King in your previous school, you should have some experience. Oh wait, I forgot, he spent all that time terrorizing innocent kids rather than doing anything Kingly.

-I understand him being skeptical about Arlo, but the Blyke one is stupid. Blyke tried so hard to be nice to you and apologized for what he did. I get you were going through a hard time, but you can’t ignore the effort he made.

-Holden being included in things makes me so happy. I want him to get more focus in the story and develop cute relationships with the other characters (I’m holding out for a Holden and Evie friendship)

-John’s so mad that everyone else still sees worth in Seraphina, not our fault you dropped her the moment she started challenging you. Also John finally got the idea of the Safe House right, just people hanging out in a room. Not so sure about the shitty comment though.

-John just wants people to feel as shitty as he feels so when no one takes it he gets mad. Also proof that John isn’t doing this to help students, he’s doing it to exact revenge on the people who wronged him. While I’m not a fan of the saying “An eye for an eye makes everyone blind” John isn’t just taking the Royals eyes, he’s running around stabbing passerby’s eyes as well.

-John, you have just activated the trope trap card. Because of your foolish statement Safe House will now not only succeed, but make you the biggest joke since the chicken crossed the road. Though if I were to give my real thoughts, I do think the Safe House will start off shakily but eventually evolve into a great place.

-We finally got a name for Arlo’s aunt! Aunt Valerie. Guess both her real name and code name start with a V. This also might be the most relaxed we’ve ever seen Arlo. A casual way of sitting and loose fitting clothing really makes it seem like he’s relaxing at home. It could be that he’s a lot more comfortable with his aunt, probably even more than Remi.

-These two lines...these two lines made me go ballistic. Let’s unpack this one by one. First off, Valerie and Arlo haven’t talked to each other in a while apparently. From the voice comment I’m guessing the last time they spoke was when Arlo was going through or right before his growth spurt in second year. This is interesting for two reasons. One, cause this is around the time that Arlo had to deal with all the weight of becoming King and Rei leaving. Instead of relying on anyone or even calling his aunt for advice, he took on the entire thing by himself. That’s way too much stress for any kid to handle and the fact that he wouldn’t even give a call to a respected relative shows he was dead set on doing everything by himself, which led to extreme stress and a change in personality. Second is that Arlo probably hasn’t been going home for any holidays. Normally at holidays a school like this would have the choice for kids to go home or stay on campus, and his aunt not hearing him in a while could be signifying that he hasn’t gone home during these break times. Instead, he probably spent the holidays alone (or maybe during his first year he was invited by Rei over to his home, please Uru) which worsened his lack of communication and dependency. But why wouldn’t he go home...well the next lines are interesting

-Valerie asking how is Arlo’s father seems normal on the surface but if you think about it, it’s real fucking weird. They’re in the same family aren’t they? Shouldn’t Valerie be in contact with Arlo’s father, especially if he’s her brother. This makes me think that Valerie is related to Arlo on his mom’s side which will be important later. Still, why would two family members not be in contact with each other? A reason could be that the family was broken up for whatever reason or maybe the two hate each other. Notice how Valerie doesn’t ask about Arlo’s mom, could his mom be out of the picture? Either from divorce or possibly death. Could his fixation on finding out about Rei’s death be because his own mother died at a young age. Maybe she got into an accident or was killed? Or maybe, it was suicide. That would definitely break a family apart to the point of no contact between in laws. What if Arlo’s father is abusive and drove his mom to suicide? Maybe Valerie hates his father for basically killing her sister and she tried her best to be there for her son. She probably couldn’t win a custody battle but she always tried her best to be in his life to be a positive role model. Arlo himself doesn’t seem to pleased talking about his father. A simple “He’s fine” and a curt “Great” in response. The two have probably done this a number of times, neither of them really caring about Arlo’s father.

-Why can I already see the two of them ending up at the boba store in town, with Arlo suggesting the mango boba to her and Valerie looking absolutely bewildered that he would say something like that.

-Another weird thing though is the question “Are you still going to Wellston?” Wouldn’t she have already known this. I think it’s more proof that she and Arlo’s father aren’t in contact. Also could it be that Arlo actually moved schools a lot as a kid or that his family might have a more impoverished life style that couldn’t support a high end school. (Probably not but it’s an idea)

-So Valerie’s division just so happens to transfer her to the Wellston area when only a few months ago we got that Ember report stating they’re gonna start making their moves on the Wellston targets. Suspicious. People who’ve had family in the police, are transfers like this normal?

-We’re gonna get our Arlo and Valerie meeting soon and I’m gonna be living for it. I also want Valerie and Seraphina to run into each other and have a talk. Just give Valerie a chance to show a caring side to her and maybe even info dump Arlo’s backstory to Sera. But this is all so when Valerie is revealed not only Arlo will be betrayed, but Sera too. A 2 for 1 special

-What’s this look for though? Is he getting suspicious about his aunt? Or could it be that he’s reluctant to actually meet with her? Maybe he doesn’t want her to see what he’s become. Either way, I’m expecting a lot of drama when these two meet face to face

This entire review was actually just Arlo theories, the Remi things were just a way to trick you into seeing my inane ramblings

[noahser]

How do we treat game(no preaching, Using details and emotions)-- to put out your view on games

hold on for 3 secondsDon’t push yourself to answer this. I hope in the next few minutes, i can make you fell more confident when you are playing games.Background: games industries start to get boom steadily

Game companies start to recruit more people and headhunt talented people from other industries. salary in most game corporations gets their boost bit by bit.“ Shanghai claims itself as a global E-games city with the most considerable salary jump and heated recruiting. The biggest occupation demand gap is the producer of a game, TA(technology art), and engineering. In some shanghai companies, some graduates can get 500 thousand yuan a year, which is pretty considerable. Some scarce jobs’ salary can get double by job-hopping from another city”, cited from Times Zhoubao reporter named Jason.Some Chinese companies also make some excellent games possible: Forged In Shadow Torch, Tales of immortal, The Scroll of Taiwu, Dyson Sphere Program, Genshin Impact, and so on.▼Posters of gamesBut since not a single game company in China has made it through the game industrialization transformation process, we still can not forge a game that can be on a par with other foreign 3A games and get a long way to go. But, we are moving forward.Status Quo: People’s attitudes towards games have begun to change, and more and more people have started to pay attention to games. E-sports or live broadcasting are rapidly developing, and people have gradually adopted a more positive attitude towards games.Many games have also acted as social tools (Honor of Kings, Game For Peace, Mole’s World, Harry Potter), in games, people experience virtual worlds. Games are even changing the real world, and the influence of games is becoming more and more noticeable.The game has become a tool for connecting feelings among roommates in the dormitoryGames became a time killer for boys in the back row of college classesThe game has become a useful tool to alleviate the embarrassment when people are waiting for food at the table or the follow-up supplement activities after a meal when there is nothing to do in your mind.Do games seem to be needed by more people? Is the game really being treated fairly by more and more people?But wait, it doesn't seem right. These are something we are evading. Why do we choose to play games in these scenarios?You said that the dormitory relationship is not easy to handle. Finding some time to play games together could enhance our relationships.You said that you are socializing and your friends are all playing this game. If you don't play it, I could be regarded as withdrawn.You said that are there that many things to talk about when you hold an event together? Play a game together to relieve boredom. Isn't it good?You say that this is the ninth art. I am leveling up my aesthetic taste and experiencing different life experiences.▼An art form other than (painting, sculpture, architecture, music, poetry (literature), dance, drama, film)You said that I was so tired in class or work, I want to relax in the game.Wait, are we evading something? Do you need so many reasons for playing games? Can games only be used as tools? Games, can not they just be games?Let me tell my story. When I was in elementary school, I lived in my grandmother’s village. After school, what should we do after we have nothing to do? Of course, it was having fun. We go to play glass balls, play cards, throw sandbags, play top toys on ice, and use BB guns to shoot birds, which made me feel really regretful till now.At that time, the plastic bullet did not grant BB guns great power. The bird would fall off at most when it hits, and it could not fly temporarily cause it still hurts. At this time, we would happily rush over to catch the bird. Of course, birds were useless for us if we keep it. So we would release the birds afterward. But once, we hit a bird with a bullet, it fell off suddenly. I rushed over happily, only to find that the eye was hit with blood flowing. It was the first time we encountered this situation. I suddenly felt regretful. That was the first time I felt heartache for a bird. I held it up and put it under the alpine grass outside the yard to let it rest and prevent others from catching it. (Actually, I don’t know what to do). After a while, when I

went to check again, I found it disappeared. I don't know what fate it faced afterward. I blamed myself for a while and never used a BB gun to aim at birds again. After having such an experience, I began to understand "Whether it is a human or a small animal, the pain will make those who experience it feel intense discomfort whether you are the hurt one or not." When I picked up the BB gun, I didn't even think about what I could get from it. All of this may be an unexpected gain.Later, I get to know video games from a friend. A small game computer can be connected to the TV to play a variety of cool games just by plugging in a ROM cartridge. It really refreshed my cognition about games at the time. So, I spent all the pocket money I had saved for a long time on a family computer called Subor - a game console in the store, which is apparently a private version. But i knew that way later on. I was ecstatic and take it home. Whenever there was just me at home, I turned on the TV and browse a set of games on my “Subor”—— Mario, Contra, Nunchaku, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and other games, even these simple interaction logic of these games can make me fascinated. Later, on the basis of these games, I also came into contact with more excellent works, such as Mortal, Streets of Rage, King of Fighters, Street Fighter, and so on. . . Subsequently, the Internet swept up, and web games emerged, QQ Tang, QQ Pet, QQ Speed, CF, and CS Online showed on the desktop of my computer. Although I had been reprimanded for playing games, these games gave me a better understanding of games. I came to figure out that” wow, games can be like this”. Recalling now, did I want to get anything when I played the game? No, all of this may still be unexpected gains.Why, when we talk about playing games, we never admit that we are playing, and we always feel that we need to pursue meaning in order to justify our behavior of playing games.Looking back at the emergence of many things, when French photographers Louis Lumiere and Auguste Lumiere brothers put their invented "event projector" in a cafe, and when they played their films, did they mull the meanings from this thing that can bring to us? I'm afraid not. But we all know what the movie has achieved today."Today I have been busy, nothing can be done, I suddenly missed all the women of that day. After careful examination one by one, I found that their behavior and knowledge are all above me. Don't protect yourself because of my dissatisfaction, and also make them annihilate." This is Cao Xueqin's original intention to explain her creation in the first chapter of "A Dream of Red Mansions". Literature may not think about the meaning, but it captures the beautiful and subtle emotions that could not be written in words before and creates a world of New. For example, light enters a dark room, which is dark for a hundred thousand years, and it can be enlightened at once. , So we can see the “Bullet screen” like "Thousand-year dark room, a light bright the dark all", "Although it can't come, my heart yearns for it" "After that, if there is no torch, I will be the only light", not just "Olygi" at the ends of some high-energy videosSo, where is the meaning of playing games? I want to say: it can be meaningless. If it can bring me unexpected gains, of course, it is better, but if it doesn't, it doesn't matter.When we let go of the idea of ​binding the game to other meanings, we can really play the game.Stop deceiving yourself by saying that I play games to socialize, I play games to feel the ninth art, and I play games to relax my brain for better learning. stop! I play games because I like games, nothing else, just to play games. Because a game can only be a game.

[mrs-takami-keigo]

King of the Clouds

Hello all my fellow Hawks lovers! I decided to write a Hawks fanfic and I’m a little nervous about it because I haven’t written in about 6 years. So without further ado I give you King of the Clouds!

Description: She's a force to be reckoned with. She became the number three hero for a reason in the states, but why on earth is this lazy red winged boy in the number two spot. She's tired of him thinking he's the King of the clouds.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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Chapter one:

It was a quiet day for the No•2 hero. He’s only had a purse snatcher, a petty corner store robber and an old lady who had trouble picking her cart full of groceries up the stairs. The blonde male decided to perch himself on top one of the tallest buildings so he could keep and eye out one the city. ‘ I bet anything I look like some kind of weirdo sitting like this’. He sighed as he sat on the edge of the building instead to not look like some kind of Batman impersonator. Reaching into his pocket he took out his phone to see the time “It’s only 2:45 and I still have the rest of the day to do nothing.” Hawks sighed and he opened up the news app on his phone. Scrolling down the list of articles he saw that almost all of his colleagues were busy catching actual villains. Not that he should be complaining he always wanted to not be so busy but it was days like this where he wanted a little excitement. An article that was going on live caught his interest, he turned his phone sideways so he can watch the video on his whole screen ‘We’re here at shinjuku station where a villain has appeared! Hero’s are on the scene doing their best-‘

The reporter was interrupted by a huge explosion. The camera was shaky but it turned towards the sound and he saw this guy blast an entire building with just one hit, as soon as the villains hand made contact with the building you can see small ripples appear. “So it’s a super sonic quirk huh interesting.” Hawks mumbled to himself watching the rest of the live feed. ‘ He just took out a whole building with one strike! And it looks like some of the hero’s have been affected by his super sonic wave!!’

‘The revolution has begun meta humans will be back on top with no rules! Catch me if you can hero’s!’ and with that the villain shot into the sky causing more destruction to the surrounding area. The camera followed him and Hawks realized he wasn’t too far from that area and the direction that villain was going and his speed he knew he was gonna be pretty busy in a few minutes.

“Well looks like break time is over.” Putting his phone away the young man stood up stretching his arms and his red wings did the same shaking after being fully stretched. Squinting his eyes he saw a small speck coming in his direction. Smirking he crouched down ready to wait till the creep got closer to him before he took off in full force.

‘5,4,3,2,-‘ He was counting down ready for the take down when out of nowhere he felt a gust of hot wind which was odd considering it was still early spring and saw a flash. Pushing himself off the building he followed that bright light. Hawks had a hard time keeping up with it ‘who the hell is this?!’ He frowned as he tried to speed up. Everything happened so fast, the bright light caught up with the villain in mid air, and next thing he knew the villain was thrown to the ground causing what Hawks considered a small earthquake. He watched as the light hovered down, noticing that is was more like a ball of fire and not just a light. ‘Endeavor?’ He knew it couldn’t be cause Endeavor wasn’t faster than him. Flying closer Hawks was able to finally see a figure of a women, her hair blowing upward as she slowly went down towards the ground. Her right arm extended out as if to stay stop.

“It’s useless. I’m sure you feel that pressure that’s holding you down on you whole body, that’s me and your not going anywhere.” Her voice was very stern and cold as if she was ready to kill. “Stupid hero! The w-“ the villain stopped mid-sentence he was chocking. Hawks looked back at the women and saw her other hand looked like it was gripping something.’Was she choking him?’

“Yeah yeah we all heard it before it’s time for a nap big guy.” She held her hand position like that for another minute before he passed out. It wasn’t until then he realized she had flaming wings letting her float down to the ground next to the perpetrator, cops soon swarmed the unconscious male and handcuffing him before hauling him up and carrying him away.

Landing not that far away from the women Hawks finally was able to see her face fully and god was he surprised. She was stunning absolutely stunning.

“Miss! Miss! What is your name where did you come from?!”

“ Are you a new hero from UA?!”

“Are you single?!” Hawks watched as she was bombarded with questions from reporters and fans alike. She chuckled at the last question covering her mouth a little to hide her smile but Hawks still saw it.

“My name is Phoenix and I’m a new hero here in japan.” She bowed her head and that sent the crowed into a fit. Not only was she powerful and beautiful she was also respectful. “Please lean on me, I’m here for you!” She said with so much passion in her voice that even the red winged man had to applaud her like the rest of the crowd.

Hawks stood in the background as she answered more and more questions, not once did she sound unsure or confused. ‘The rookie has some talent.’ Having watched her he guessed she was around his age or maybe younger and from what he heard she’s from the state’s. ‘Interesting.’

“ I hate doing this but I have to leave now have to go fill out paperwork, you know the deal. I’ll be around so if you ever need help big or small just shout my name and I’ll be there.” She backed away from the crowd her flaming wings coming out of her back before she took of to the skies. Realizing this is his chance Hawks followed her leave but not before hearing people asking how long had he been standing there.

She wasn’t flying as fast as she was before making it easy for him to catch up with her. Right when he got close enough to call out to her he opened his mouth.

“So were you even trying to really catch that guy or not?” He heard her speak, it was an annoyed kind of tone. He stopped, hovering in the air staring at her. ‘Who in the hell?’ He thought to himself but he knew his face was saying it as well. Having stopped herself she turned towards him flying a little closer so they were in talking distance. “I mean for real you saw him coming, why wait that long?” She had crossed her arms staring at him

“Well nice to meet you too Kid. And I had it handled, just waiting for my moment to pounce.” He smirked floating closer to her until he was close enough to get a whiff of her perfume, ‘hmm spicy but still sweet.’

“First off Hawks,” his eyes widened he never said his name and from what he got when she was talking to the reporters she just got here late last night, “ take at least to flaps back and second I’m not a kid, trust me.”

Laughing he did what she said and took two flaps of his wings back. “ How do you know my name? When I just found out about yours from you interview down there.” He mirrored her stance.

“It’s my job to know all my co-workers names, especially boys like you.” She started to circle him, moving her legs as if she was walking on the ground. “Hero name, Hawks. Age,23. Height, roughly five foot eight. Favorite food, chicken. Quirk, fierce wings. You have the ability to have control of your feathers so they can assist you in saving people or to become weapons if need be.Also you have the ability to hear distant sounds because of your feathers. But the best fact of all,” she stopped right in front of him and was close, closer then he was to her before,” You are dangerous in many different ways, You’re a wild card.” She never broke eye contact when she said the last part. Hawks had to admit he was intimidated, very intimidated which never happens.

He didn’t want her to know that he was intimidated he smirked at her, “Okay so you had access to a computer is that supposed to scare me, Phoenix?”

She put her arms on his shoulders bringing him closer to her leaning towards his ear. “Oh no my little dove I’m just trying to tell you I’m just as dangerous, Keigo.” His eyes widened in shock. She used his real name! ‘How did she know my real name?! Who the fuck was she?!’

Pushing away from her he looked at her with a serious face. “Who are you?!”

Her face turned serious as well staring him down she said in a voice that sent chills down his spine,”Next time you have to stop a villain don’t be lazy, just get the job done.” She turned and flew away just as fast as she came.

Hawks was tempted to follow her but first he had to pay a visit to the hero’s organization and ask them exactly how the hell she knew his name.

‘Dear lord if I have to answer anymore are you single questions I’m gonna scream.’ Phoenix ran her right hand through her burgundy curls while her left hand took her phone out of her belt. She saw messages from her parents and friends from back home but what caught her attention was the five missed calls from her uncle. Rolling her eyes she could already tell he was pissed that she took down some wannabe when he specifically told her to lay low till he introduced her. But she couldn’t help it, she saw it on the news when she was settling everything in her office back at the agency and her hero instincts kicked in. Sure she wasn’t positive where the fight was happening but that’s what her gps on the phone was for.

Deciding the best thing to do was to call the hot headed number one hero back. The phone never had a proper chance to ring before she heard his booming voice over the small phone,” Didn’t I tell you not to go do anything yet?!”

“Oh simmer down will you everything is fine. I’m okay and the guy is in jail.” She said while she walked down the street getting glances from people on the streets. Some were questioning and some were of people that must have seen her on tv already. “I’m on my way back to the agency is Shouto there?” Smiling as she said that cause she knows if she brings him up her uncle would lose focus on her and talk about his pride and joy.

“Yes he’s here! He thought you were gonna be here as well but nope you took off without saying a damn thing!” Wincing she didn’t know he’d be that mad at her.

“Can you put him on the phone please?”

“What for?!”

“Just do it flame head!” She yelled in the phone. Sometimes anger issues run in the family and if there was one person she could always get mad at it was her anger management poster child of an uncle.

“Hello?” She heard her cousins monotonous voice making her smile. She loved her cousins but Shouto was like a little brother to her.

“I’m heading back, want me to pick up some cold soba noodles for you?”

“You don’t have to.” He was always a sweet boy that was one of the reasons she always felt compelled to protect him.

“Don’t worry I got you. I’ll be there in about ten minutes okay. Oh and tell your father to chill.” She heard him chuckle before hanging up.

Looking up the closest soba place on her phone she found one not to far. Taking a breath and closing her eyes she jumped up and her wings sprouted from her back letting her take off into the sky. Flying was her favorite thing to do and the sky in japan was different than back home. Here it was more peaceful and clearer, she smiled when she saw a bird flying next to her.

‘Who are you?!’ his voice rang in her head. Hawks, he was gonna be a handful. Her face frowned when she remembered seeing him there just sitting knowing that the villain wasn’t too far from him. Her research told her that he could reach over 100 mph on a slow day so for him not to do a damn thing was sickening to her. If there is a person doing evil things you are supposed to stop it not just wait for your time to pounce as he likes to say. But she did have to admit he wasn’t that bad on the eyes so if they had to be in the same business at least she had something to look at. Shaking her head of anymore thoughts on that red winged bimbo she flew faster passing the bird the was taking a nice fly with her.

Phoenix POV

“Anybody order a cold soba to go?” I said while holding up the bags of food I got from the restaurant. My little cousin turned his head away from his father who looked like he was explaining something to him.

“It’s about time you showed up Phoenix.”

“God Endeavor lay off will you and just spend time eating with us before we go back to the house.” I said while pulling the food out of the bags. I gave Shouto his food smiling at him. He looked at me and smiled back, it was a small one but you knew that he had a hard time expressing himself. My heart hurt for him sometimes, I knew what my uncle put him and my other cousins through not to mention my poor aunt. I’ve learned of his monstrous ways when my family came to visit a little after he sent his wife away, I was about 18 when it happened so I was fully aware of the situation.My mother smacked him but me, well let’s just say it was a dark time.

“I saw the footage and the interview.” Me and Shouto looked up from our food when we heard his father speak, “ I may not have liked you going off on your own but you did an amazing job Quinn.”

“Thank you uncle. And next time I’ll listen to you.” We may have our differences and I may have my reservations about my uncle. I still respected him as a hero and I know he is trying to make his family proud of him despite of what he did in his past.

He nodded his head at me while stuffing a dumpling into his mouth. “Did you run into and other hero’s.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed the noodles that were in my mouth. “Hawks. Can you believe he didn’t react to the villain that was so close to him. He was just sitting there ‘waiting to pounce’ that’s what he said to me.”

“He may come off as lazy and aloof but take him seriously. He’s number 2 for a reason.His skills are almost the same levels as you child.” I gave him a questioning look. I’ve never heard him actually compliment someone other than his son. I leaned over the desk that was between us pinching his cheek.

“What are you doing!” He swatted my had away rubbing the bruised area.

“I’m just checking if your really my uncle Enji is all. You never just compliment someone.”

“All I’m saying is there is a reason for everything. Don’t judge a book by its cover.” When he said that I heard my cousin scuff and mutter some not so great things under his breath. “Knowing you, you were probably rude to him weren’t you?” Out of all the people to know you well your uncle had to be the one.

“He deserved it!” I knew I was pouting I couldn’t help it that man irked me to my core for some reason.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do seeing as your almost thirty but just give him a second chance.” I nodded my head. I knew he was right but there are somethings I can’t look past.

“Let’s finish our food so you can go change and get ready for the party. Shouto will go with you back to the house.” Now that put a smile on my face. My uncle set up a party with some of the people at the agency and the organization to introduce me to them.

“Hey little cousin you ever fly before?” That was the first time I’ve seen him show a big smile in a long time.

‘Phoenix? We don’t really have anything on her other than she’s from the states and has a license.’ They were of no help to him. He had been flying around for a while now, pulling his phone out he saw that his patrol was over now.

He landed on top of an apartment building, not really ready to go home yet. “She knew I was there before I even had Time to register that she flew past me.” He spoke out loud to himself. Unlocking his phone he went on to the internet and typed in her name.

He clicked the first video that popped up and it was of a major disaster somewhere in America.

‘The building off of 54th street is currently on fire and it seems like firefighters are having trouble controlling the flames!’ Hawks watched the video closely, people were screaming and running. It looked like a fairly tall building with a lot of offices in them. He saw people dangling on the fire escape or contemplating on jumping.

‘Look it’s Phoenix!’ The camera man zoomed out pointing the lens towards the sky. There she was just like how she looked today, powerful and beautiful. He paid attention when she raised her hands facing the building and closed her eyes. She was concentrating, soon he realized she was checking to see how many people were in the building. Taking her left hand she pulled it towards her body and you can see the people trapped in the building come out as if they were being held up by a string. Phoenix guided all the people down to safety where the medics were waiting but the fire was still out of control.

‘She’s gonna use her power move! Every one get back!!’ an officer yelled to the crowed. Then she did the most astonishing thing he may have ever seen. Her eyes started to glow as she took a deep breath. The flames seemed to start blowing towards her. Soon it was as if Phoenix was pulling the fire to her and she absorbed it her body being engulfed in the flames. When the building seemed like it wasn’t on fire anymore Phoenix shot up into the sky. Next thing Hawks saw on the screen she turned into the big ball of pure light her body took in all those flames.

Then there was silence ‘She has done it again pro hero Phoenix has saved the city and its civilians! We can always count on our beacon of safety, our beacon of light! Phoenix!’ Hawks was amazed she hovered down to the ground to go make sure everyone that was being checked on by the medics was okay and to talk to the firefighters that were on the scene. The last frame was a close up of her face hugging a small child that had a doll of her favorite hero in her hands, Phoenix. But that’s not what caught the young mans attention, it was her face. He can see she took a lot of damage with that move, yes it’s very powerful but it took a lot of her basic energy.

“You’re so well loved there why would you leave?” He needed to know more about her, thinking he thought of the only person who might know and flew in that direction.

It didn’t take the winged hero long before he got to destination. Landing on the balcony of the building he just let himself in.

“Hey Endeavor! I got a question for you.” The older hero didn’t even jump it was almost routine for the kid to come and bother him at least once a day.

“What do you want Hawks?” Endeavor never looked up from his paper work.

“I need to know if you have any information on the hero named Phoenix.” Hawks took a seat in the chair across the hero’s desk.

Sighing he knew this was gonna happen especially after his wonderful niece said she had a run in with him. “How about you come back here at 7 and I’ll be able to tell you everything about her, she’s a handful. Just go home and shower you look and smell awful.”

Smiling Hawks got up, “Aw Endeavor didn’t know you cared about my well being. But I’ll be back 7 sharp.” Leaving the way he came in Hawks couldn’t help but smirk.

“The next time we meet Phoenix, I’m gonna be the one to intimidate you. Looks like you messed with the wrong bird chickadee.”

Phoenix pov

I was in the car sent by my uncle on my way to the event. Crossing my legs I looked out the window watching as the city passed me by. I thought back to after me and Shouto left the agency I flew both of us back to the Todoroki house.

“How was your first flight on Air Force Phoenix?” I gently put him down on the ground soon following suit.

“It was really fun Quinn. To see the city like that was something special.” I heard his low voice say as we climbed up the stairs.

“I knew you would like it.” I stopped on the top of the stairs before we walked in the house, I stopped him.

“Hey Shouto come here.” I motioned him with my hands to come closer. When he did I realized he wasn’t as little as he used to be. He had at least two inches over me. My arms found their way around his neck as I pulled him into a hug. I haven’t seen him since the incident I feel as if I couldn’t protect him. It was hard enough on me when Touya ran away I couldn’t let anything happen to Shouto too.

I felt his arms wrap around me hugging me really tight. His face buried in my shoulder. Stroking the back of his hair I felt the tears leave his eyes.

“It’s okay I’m here now. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” It hurt my heart to see him like this but I knew he wasn’t close to his siblings cause his father kept him in training but I made sure I texted him called him anything his father wasn’t going to stop me.

I pulled away from him making him look at me. “Now let’s get that face all washed and cleaned before you head back to the dorms okay?” He nodded at me and we walked through the door where I was greeted by my two other cousins.

Smiling to myself it felt nice to be here but I know the homesickness will hit me hard.

“Miss we’re here.” The driver brought me back to reality as he opened my door and helped me out of the car.

“Thank you sir.” I flashed him a sweet smile only to see the older man have a slight blush hit his cheeks.

Walking up to the building the doors opened automatically. The windows were so tinted you couldn’t see from the outside but the inside was gorgeous. Tall ceilings, wooden molds and accents throughout the lobby and some desks were some of the sidekicks sat. Pressing the up button to call the elevator I checked myself in the reflection of the metal doors. Nodding in approval I smirked. ‘Still a bad bitch Quinn.’ The room was full of people some people dressed for the occasion which was semi formal or people still in there costumes. As soon as I stepped off the elevator I felt everyone’s eyes on me.

“There you are Phoenix!” I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Endeavor making his way to me. He was still in his costume that man never stopped for a second. “I didn’t know so many people were gonna be here.” I said through my teeth at him. The amount of people in the room made it look like this was the hero billboard announcements. “Well word got out that this was for you and after your little stunt today everyone wanted to see the new bird in the sky. I know you hate crowds this big but let’s just try to get through it together.” I knew he wasn’t one for a large amount of people either. Smiling at him I hooked my arm in his as we made our way around the room greeting my new Colleagues.

An hour passed and I was still making my way around the room introducing myself to everyone. I was on my second gin tonic for the night cause we all knew I was gonna need it. Some of the people I met were really nice, but I did come across a few male hero’s that wanted more than just my name and quirk. Some of them were very much up front about it but the minute Endeavor came near me they would scatter like roaches.

“Hey uncle can I use you office for a second?” I need a moment to myself and he understood that. Nodding he guided me to his office so that no one would bother me as I made my way there.

Closing the door behind me I exhaled. At lot happened in a matter of twenty four hours, I moved to a new country, made an apprehension had a reunion with my cousins then had to come here and talk to people.

“This jet lag is kicking my ass.”sighing I plopped down on my uncle’s chair leaning back. I closed my eyes, I’ll just stay here for about thirty minutes.

I was sitting there for only ten minutes when I felt a cold breeze shoot through the room. Shivers went up my spine, if someone was trying to break in I’d have to stop them just wish it didn’t have to be in my skirt and heels. I heard someone shuffle in the door that was connected to the balcony. Trying to be as quick and as silent as I could I snuck around the chair. It was dark in the room and I couldn’t really see who it was, didn’t matter there was a lot of important people here I had to get a handle on the situation before anyone finds out.

Pressing my back against a wall that was covered on the darkness I stalked closer to the intruder. I could tell it was a male by the figure, when I was close enough I used my powers to throw the jerk to the ground on his back. Moving quickly I stepped on the his chest with my heels. I used my right hand to form a fire ball pointing it to the intruders face.

“Whoa there fire bird it’s just me!” I recognized that voice. Oh shit! “Hawks?!” “I don’t mind the view from down here but you might have a problem with it.” He smirked up at me.

Shoving him with my heel I took my foot off his chest. He was coughing and rubbing the wounded area.

“Why would you sneak into an office like that?” I went to go turn on the lights while he peeled himself off the floor.

“Why were you sitting here in the dark?” He finally lifted his head up to look at me and I could see in his eyes he was shocked. I watched as his eyes traveled up from my black open toed heels to my black leather skirt that came up right above my knees, up to my off the sleeve white lace top.

“Hey bird brain my eyes are up here.” The look he had was the same look the other guys out there had in their eyes. Before he could say anything Endeavor opened the door. Both our heads turned to him as he looked at us.

“Hawks, late as usual.” I watched my uncle close the door behind him as he made his way to stand in between us. Taking this moment to actually look at the young pro hero in front of me. I guess he didn’t get the memo about this being a semi formal event. I’m pretty sure my uncle forgot to mention that to him. He stood there black doc martens on his feet, dark blue jeans that weren’t too tight and not to baggy on his lower half. A nice black v neck t-shirt and a leather jacket over his shoulders. But what really got me was the accessories he was wearing, a silver necklace with what looked like wings hung from his neck, about three silver stud earrings in each ear and rings on his fairly large fingers. If this was a different setting and I didn’t know him and he wasn’t so much younger than me he may have had a chance. I shook my head trying to clear it of those thoughts.

“There was traffic?” Hawks shrugged his shoulders smiling at the older hero.

“Well you made it just in time anyway both of you come out. Phoenix let’s get you to make a speech.”

I turned and made my way out the door never giving Hawks a second glance but I could feel his eyes on me.

Following Endeavor up to the podium In the front of the room Hawks was right behind us. Climbing up the stairs I stood next to Endeavor as he started his introduction.

“Thank you for joining me on this special occasion. I would like to welcome a new hero to my agency, my niece Quinn or as you all may know her after her debut today Phoenix!” Everyone in the room applauded me as I made my way to the mic but not before passing a glance to Hawks who looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

I stood in front of the crowed showing them my brightest smile. “It’s my pleasure to be here. There is nothing I enjoy more than saving civilians and taking out villains. From this moment on I have everyone in this room backs as we work together to fight the evil that’s in this world.” Bowing to the crowed I walked off the stage making my way to the shocked Hawks.

“Seems like we know each other now don’t we Keigo?” I whispered in his ear as I passed him letting my fingers play with the chain that was hanging around his neck for a second before I walked to the group of reporters that seemed like they had questions for me.

———————————————— I know it’s long trust me but I really wanted you to get a feel of who Quinn is and the dynamic between her and Hawks. Like and comment! Comments let me know that people actually like my writing lol.

[qtakesams]

When Life Goes On, Go with It

Two years ago this month, I moved to Edgewater, Maryland, to complete a summer internship with the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center. SERC, as we call it, is a branch of the Smithsonian Institution that specializes in climate, coastal, terrestrial, and various other types of sciences. Their campus is an hour east of Washington, D.C. They own hundreds of acres of land, on which they house their laboratories and fields.

It was just after my sophomore year of college ended. As with many underclassmen years, mine was turbulent. I endured a drastic shift in my social circle which had, even if temporarily, left me feeling stranded on a campus I was still learning about. I’d had a rough spring semester, finding a lack of motivation to complete any assignment.

Most undergrads face that year: the one where nothing feels right, and each path feels like a dead-end. I had applied for a SERC internship on a bit of a whim. Entering college, I’d seen myself as a fiction writer and editor, planning to end up in a corporate publishing house. Sophomore had shown me I desired other things, and I applied for SERC’s science writing internship completely unsure if I’d actually like the work. What if I didn’t? What if it felt worse than the previous semester? What would I do if I couldn’t bounce back?

All of this, I decided, would be worth the risk. When I got an email from the internship’s advisor in March, offering me the position, I accepted it. The rest, as some might say, is history.

SERC is a hard place to find until you’ve visited a few times. The brown sign is easily skipped by the eyes. Coming from the west, you approach SERC on the left side of the road. Immediately, you forget that you’re technically in the suburbs, less than thirty miles from the epicenter of political heat in America. After a few turns, you arrive at the gate. When SERC is publicly open, you drive on through. When you’re an intern coming back from the bar at night, you have to swipe your ID card. You drive a few more turns, watching closely for deer, before that final right turn that drops you into the parking lot of the intern dorms and the labs.

I fell in love with SERC within days of my arrival. There were the intimidating factors of the place: fellow interns at Ivy Leagues and respected colleges, scientific labs into which the government itself funded millions, no meal plan, and the stick shift vehicle I would drive all summer. I was terrified when my mom drove away. I explored the floor of my building, admiring the kitchen, perusing the book selection. By eleven, I was in bed. I was tried from traveling, but more so, I didn’t know what to do. I’d briefly interacted with the other intern already on my floor, but I didn’t know him well enough to go say hi. There were four interns moved in below my floor, but I hadn’t seen any of them yet. I suddenly seemed wildly out of my element, though I had felt comfortable at SERC the moment I drove through the gate.

Of course, I grew happier at SERC. The happiest I’d been in years. Within weeks, I made strong friends, adjusted to my job, and began to close my GPS when driving to the store.

My work felt good. The articles I wrote and the media I created reached thousands of people, many of which gave positive comments. My words were reaching people, and the people were responding.

I was raised by a scientist, but more importantly, by well-educated, empathetic people. Loving my planet was part of the gig when I was growing up. In high school, I began to see where my privilege in this education existed. My friends at school didn’t seem to care about the things I’d be taught to care about. Water consumption, electricity, knowing the landscape on which your house is built. I knew important moments in history, and how they affected me. I had early knowledge of politics, to the point where I knew who George Bush was before his presidency ended (when I was 10). Ignorance and empathy tend to go hand-in-hand, mostly because ignorance leads to apathy. We’ve seen this cause-and-effect equation hold catastrophic, deadly consequences in 2020.

When I arrived at SERC, it didn’t slip by me that I suddenly had access to information that most people only dream about. Many of us are ignorant (I remain ignorant to 99.9% of what happens on this Earth) by circumstance, not by choice. Accessibility is one of our biggest problems of a global society attempting to function in a digital, climate change-riddled world. Sixty percent of the globe now has Internet access, but that leaves 3.08 billion people without the knowledge they need to protect themselves from the setbacks of climate change. Most of those people, as it would turn out, are terribly affected most by war, poverty, hunger, climate, social injustice, etc. These things intertwine and cause one another. Not always, but often.

My position at SERC gifted me access to science occurring in real-time. When the Pandemic would hit a year later, it would be surprising but not shocking. On a planet where politics and science are brothers, and the population is soaring too high to properly maintain, containing a spreadable virus is like trying to hold a cup of water in your bare hands. Sooner or later, it’s going to slip between the cracks and go everywhere. If it slips far enough, you’ll never find a towel strong enough to collect it all.

In March of 2020, when I moved home to isolate, I knew the rest of college was trashed. Not my degree, necessarily, but the experience of college. I would lose that experience in its normalcy, and therefore the skills which develop from that normalcy.

I did soon realize, however, that we are not always fortunate enough to do something about mass-casualties or problems. There’s not always an answer, straightforward or not. When there is one, you should grab it with both hands.

That summer of 2020, I decided I wanted to pursue a master’s degree after college. Higher education is not unknown in my family; we boast high degrees from prestigious universities. I am the opposite of a First-Generation student (one of my great-grandparents also had a master’s degree). Graduate school had already been on my mind when I started college, but I didn’t know what for. An MFA in fiction had felt the most logical to my teenage self in 2017, but by 2018, that felt out the window. What I had realized by the summer of 2020 was that, in the midst of the chaos and absurdity, was that I could in fact do something about what was going on. I can’t solve climate change, or house the homeless, or save every polar bear, or even eradicate a virus, but I can help in my own way. On some level, I can do something about the many crises. This, in itself, is “doing something”.

Science writing is a polarizing subject, of this I have been aware my entire life. Unfortunately, we’ve made science political, though politics are generally opinion (with strong empathy) and science is fact. It’s a tough, competitive field, but so is everything else. If you want to “make it” in this world, you have to willingly shed blood, tears, and probably sweat profusely. As I watched the COVID cases skyrocket simultaneously to the people I knew who cared not to stay home, I could tell something was off. People weren’t listening. If they were, it was usually to the ignorant voices on television.

I could feel my cheeks burning as I watched the Johns Hopkins map. It seemed cruel that we, as a society, could do that to ourselves. That we could allow this virus to spread and kill, but also that we had put ourselves in this position. I had already been envisioning myself as a science writer every day since my time at SERC had begun. Finally reckoning with the knowledge that not everybody is a scientist, nor cares to be one, was the icing on the cake. I couldn’t fix it all, but I could offer my help. So, I would.

When I began this blog two years ago, it was solely for abroad purposes. It was a fabulous way to let anybody who cared know what I was experiencing and how I was handling those experiences. Studying abroad, no matter how or where or how long, is difficult. Studying in general, for any length of time on any subject, is mindboggling tedious. I give kudos to my friends and family who have any advanced, foreign, or nontraditional education.

What I discovered after I began writing blog posts and sharing my thoughts is that there’s always more to the story than the words on the page. That’s why I’ve added to this blog in the year and a half since my abroad semester ended; there is always more to tell.

In a few weeks, I begin my master’s degree at Northwestern University in Chicago. My degree is in journalism, with a specialization in Science and Health reporting. I’m nervous to my core, as I am with any new adventure. I just graduated college last weekend, so my emotions are running wild. Yet, I have a feeling I’m about to finally be where I’ve wanted to be for years. I love words. I love messing with them, shaping them, using them to fit whatever project I want. I also love science. I love knowing what is happening around me, and why and how it is. Combining them already feels like a dream come true, so I’m sure the next year will feel magical.

The classes of 2020 and 2021 are probably the most resilient in history. A Pandemic, racial and social injustice, wildfires, remote learning, wifi issues. We’ve seen it all, and it’s made us stronger every day.

I think I’ve worn this blog out for this phase of life. My thoughts on what I’ve talked about here are valid and important, but they don’t exist alone. For somebody who’s pretty much been writing since she could hold a pencil, I hate journaling. I’ve tried so many times, and never succeeded, with the exception of this blog. That said, it gave me an incredibly strong, consistent manner of getting my thoughts on the page, for which I am endlessly grateful. If you’ve kept reading my thoughts and words, you should know I’m endlessly grateful for you, too.

All of this is saying that, whether you’re ready or not, life keeps going. Life can be cruel, it can be challenging, it can be beautiful. No matter what, it keeps going. As my friend Ferris once said, if you don’t stop and look around from time to time, you could miss it. So much changed so drastically in the last year. I’m still processing it. I might always be processing it. Most importantly, I think, is that I’ve learned to flow with it wherever it goes. It’s harder sometimes than other, but the result is usually worth the grind.

You might read my stuff in the Times once day, or (my personal favorite dream) National Geographic. I don’t know honestly know where I’m going, but I’m okay with that because I do know that I’m on my way. I’m still going. When life continues, you should go, too. You never quite know where the climb will lead, but you do know that the view will be great.

[hikingmysteries]

The (”Mostly Harmless”) Nameless Hiker

Arguably the biggest hiking story of 2020, the tale actually starts a few years ago. Though we love researching and writing our own pieces for Hiking Mysteries, it is tough to top Nicholas Thompson’s article from Wired magazine. So, here it is, along with images.

A Nameless Hiker and the Case the Internet Can’t Crack

The man on the trail went by “Mostly Harmless." He was friendly and said he worked in tech. After he died in his tent, no one could figure out who he was.

IN APRIL 2017, a man started hiking in a state park just north of New York City. He wanted to get away, maybe from something and maybe from everything. He didn’t bring a phone; he didn’t bring a credit card. He didn’t even really bring a name. Or at least he didn’t tell anyone he met what it was.

He did bring a giant backpack, which his fellow hikers considered far too heavy for his journey. And he brought a notebook, in which he would scribble notes about Screeps, an online programming game. The Appalachian Trail runs through the area, and he started walking south, moving slowly but steadily down through Pennsylvania and Maryland. He told people he met along the way that he had worked in the tech industry and he wanted to detox from digital life. Hikers sometimes acquire trail names, pseudonyms they use while deep in the woods. He was “Denim” at first, because he had started his trek in jeans. Later, it became “Mostly Harmless,” which is how he described himself one night at a campfire. Maybe, too, it was a reference to Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Early in the series, a character discovers that Earth is defined by a single word in the guide: harmless. Another character puts in 15 years of research and then adds the adverb. Earth is now “mostly harmless.”

By summer, the hiker was in Virginia, where he walked about a hundred miles with a 66-year-old woman who went by the trail name Obsidian. She taught him how to make a fire, and he told her he was eager to see a bear. On December 1, Mostly Harmless had made it to northern Georgia, where he stopped in a store called Mountain Crossings. A veteran hiker named Matt Mason was working that day, and the two men started talking. Mostly Harmless said that he wanted to figure out a path down to the Florida Keys. Mason told him about a route and a map he could download to his phone. “I don’t have a phone,” Mostly Harmless replied. Describing the moment, Mason remembers thinking, “Oh, this guy’s awesome.” Everyone who goes into the woods is trying to get away from something. But few people have the commitment to cut their digital lifelines as they put on their boots.

Mason printed the 60 pages of the map and sold it to Mostly Harmless for $5 cash, which the hiker pulled from a wad of bills that Mason remembers being an inch thick. Mason loves hikers who are a little bit different, a little bit strange. He asked Mostly Harmless if he could take a picture. Mostly Harmless hesitated but then agreed. He then left the shop and went on his way. Two weeks later, Mason heard from a friend in Alabama who had seen Mostly Harmless hiking through a snowstorm. “He was out there with a smile on his face, walking south,” Mason recalls.

By the last week of January, he was in northern Florida, walking on the side of Highway 90, when a woman named Kelly Fairbanks pulled over to say hello. Fairbanks is what is known as a “trail angel,” someone who helps out through-hikers who pass near her, giving them food and access to a shower if they want. She was out looking for a different hiker when she saw Mostly Harmless. She pulled over, and they started to chat. He said that he had started in New York and was heading down to Key West. She asked if he was using the Florida Trail App, and he responded that he didn’t have a phone.

Fairbanks took notice of his gear—which was a mix of high-end and generic, including his black-and-copper trekking poles. And she was struck by his rugged, lonely look. “He had very kind eyes. I saw the huge beard first and thought, ‘It’s an older guy.’ But his eyes were so young, and he didn’t have crow's feet. I realized he was a lot younger.” She was concerned though, the way she used to be concerned about her two younger brothers. The trail could be confusing, and it wouldn’t be long before everything started getting intolerably hot and muggy. “I remembered him because I was worried,” she added.

Six months later and 600 miles south, on July 23, 2018, two hikers headed out into the Big Cypress National Preserve. The humidity was oppressive, but they trudged forward, crossing swamps, tending aching feet, and dodging the alligators and snakes. About 10 miles into their journey, they stopped to rest their feet at a place called Nobles Camp. There they saw a yellow tent and a pair of boots outside. Something smelled bad, and something seemed off. They called out, then peered through the tent’s windscreen. An emaciated, lifeless body was looking up at them. They called 911.

“Uh, we just found a dead body.”

IT’S USUALLY EASY to put a name to a corpse. There’s an ID or a credit card. There’s been a missing persons report in the area. There’s a DNA match. But the investigators in Collier County couldn’t find a thing. Mostly Harmless’ fingerprints didn’t show up in any law enforcement database. He hadn’t served in the military, and his fingerprints didn’t match those of anyone else on file. His DNA didn’t match any in the Department of Justice’s missing person database or in CODIS, the national DNA database run by the FBI. A picture of his face didn’t turn up anything in a facial recognition database. The body had no distinguishing tattoos.

Nor could investigators understand how or why he died. There were no indications of foul play, and he had more than $3,500 cash in the tent. He had food nearby, but he was hollowed out, weighing just 83 pounds on a 5'8" frame. Investigators put his age in the vague range between 35 and 50, and they couldn’t point to any abnormalities. The only substances he tested positive for were ibuprofen and an antihistamine. His cause of death, according to the autopsy report, was “undetermined.” He had, in some sense, just wasted away. But why hadn’t he tried to find help? Almost immediately, people compared Mostly Harmless to Chris McCandless, whose story was the subject of Into the Wild. McCandless, though, had been stranded in the Alaska bush, trapped by a raging river as he ran out of food. He died on a school bus, starving, desperate for help, 22 miles of wilderness separating him from a road. Mostly Harmless was just 5 miles from a major highway. He left no note, and there was no evidence that he had spent his last days calling out for help.

The investigators were stumped. To find out what had happened, they needed to learn who he was. So the Florida Department of Law Enforcement drew up an image of Mostly Harmless, and the Collier County investigators shared it with the public. In the sketch, his mouth is open wide, and his eyes too. He has a gray and black beard, with a bare patch of skin right below the mouth. His teeth, as noted in the autopsy, are perfect, suggesting he had good dental care as a child. He looks startled but also oddly pleased, as if he’s just seen a clown jump out from behind a curtain. The image started to circulate online along with other pictures from his campsite, including his tent and his hiking poles.

Kelly Fairbanks works at the Army and Air Force exchange store on a Florida military base. She normally monitors the CCTV cameras for shoplifters, but if there’s no one in the store she might sneak a look at Facebook. It was a quiet moment, and suddenly the picture popped into her feed. There he was: eyes wide open and looking up. She recognized the eyes and the beard. “I started freaking out,” she says. It was the kind man she’d seen on Highway 90. The sheriff’s office had also posted a photo of the hiker’s poles, and Fairbanks knew she had an image of the same man holding the same gear.

She clicked right over to the Collier County Sheriff’s Facebook page and sent in two photographs she had taken of Mostly Harmless. She got a message back immediately asking for her phone number. Soon a detective was on the line asking, “What can you tell me?”

She told him everything she knew. And she shared the original post, and her photo, all over Facebook. Soon there were dozens of people jumping in. They had seen the hiker too. They had journeyed with him for a few hours or a few days. They had sat at a campfire with him. There was a GoPro video in which he appeared. People remembered him talking about a sister in either Sarasota or Saratoga. They thought he had said he was from near Baton Rouge. One person remembered that he ate a lot of sticky buns; another said that he loved ketchup. But no one knew his name. When the body of Chris McCandless was found in the wilds of Alaska in the summer of 1992 without any identification, it took authorities only two weeks to figure out his identity. A friend in South Dakota, who’d known McCandless as “Alex,” heard a discussion of the story on AM radio and called the authorities. Clues followed quickly, and McCandless’ family was soon found.

Now it’s 2020, and we have the internet. Facebook knows you’re pregnant almost before you do. Amazon knows your light bulb is going to go out right before it does. Put details on Twitter about a stolen laptop and people will track down the thief in a Manhattan bar. The internet can decode family mysteries, identify long-forgotten songs, solve murders, and, as this magazine showed a decade ago, track down almost anyone who tries to shed their digital skin. This case seemed easy.

An avid Facebook group committed to figuring out his identity soon formed. Reddit threads popped up to analyze the notes he had taken for Screeps. Amateur detectives tracked down leads and tried to match photographs in missing persons databases. A massive timeline was constructed on Websleuths.com. Was it possible, one Dr. Oz viewer asked, that Mostly Harmless was a boy featured on the show who went missing in 1982? Was it possible that Mostly Harmless was a suspect in Arkansas who had murdered his girlfriend in 2017? None of the photos matched.

The story pulled people in. Everyone, at some point, has wanted to put their phone in a garbage can and head off with a fake name and a wad of cash. Here was someone who had done it and who seemed to have so much going for him: He was kind, charming, educated. He knew how to code. And yet he had died alone in a yellow tent. Maybe he had been chased by demons and had sought an ending like this. Or maybe he had just been outmatched by the wilderness and the Florida heat.

It just wasn’t a normal story in any way. And, as Fairbanks said, “he was a good-looking dude,” which, she notes, might explain why so many of the searchers are women. In mid-October, one woman in the Facebook group posted a slideshow comparing his photos to those of Brad Pitt. “Actually I think MH looks better. 😉,” one commenter wrote.

The dude, though, seemed to have followed, to near perfection, the hiker credo of “Leave no trace.” None of the clues panned out. Nothing actually got people close to solving the mystery. An industrious writer named Jason Nark spent more than a year obsessively tracking down leads and then wrote an elegy to the hiker that began, “Sometimes I imagine him falling through space, drifting like dust from dead stars in the vast nowhere above us.”

Natasha Teasley manages a canoe and kayak company in North Carolina. As business slowed when the coronavirus hit, she started to spend more time online, and she started to fill the gap in her life with the hunt for Mostly Harmless. She sent flyers to the Chambers of Commerce in every city where people thought he might have come from, including Sarasota, Florida, and Saratoga Springs, New York. She tracked down details about every car that was towed out of Harriman State Park, where he likely started his journey. She scoured missing persons databases. I asked her what motivated her to spend so much time looking for a man she’d never met. She responded achingly, “He’s got to be missed. Someone must miss this guy.”

WHEN WE THINK of DNA tests, we normally think of their miraculous ability to give us a yes or a no. The unique thread of base pairs that make us who we are exists in every cell. So we take the genetic information found at a crime scene, or in the saliva on a coffee cup, or on the hand of a deceased hiker. Then we look closely at roughly 20 chunks, or what geneticists call markers, and we search in a database of collected samples to see whether the markers match. Imagine if a book, 1 million pages long but without a cover, washed up on the shore. And then imagine you could scan one page and search all the books in a giant database to see if that exact page appeared. That’s conventional DNA testing.

But DNA also can tell the story of human history. By running a different kind of test, you get beyond yes or no and into a million variations of maybe. The genetic markers in your body are closer to those of your first cousin than your third. And they’re closer to those of your third cousin than your sixth. There’s a little bit of each generation in each of us, from our parents to our great grandparents to the early apes of the forests of Africa. So now imagine that book, and imagine that instead of comparing one page, you could compare everything in the book with everything in all other books, to find similar words, syntax, and themes. You would need complicated math and pattern tracing, but, eventually, you might figure out the author. And so, early in the summer of 2020, the organizers of the Facebook group searching for Mostly Harmless’ identity sent news about the case to a Houston company called Othram. It had been started two years earlier and pitches itself as a one-stop shop for solving cold cases.

Othram’s founder, David Mittelman, is a geneticist who had worked on the original human genome project, and he was drawn to this odd case. The company asks the public for suggestions for mysteries to solve, and that’s one of the best parts of the job. “I like doing the cases from the tip line,” Mittelman told me. “Lab work for the sake of lab work is kind of boring.” If he could crack the hiker’s identity, he’d get attention for his technology. But there was something else, too, drawing him in, a riddle he wanted to answer. The hiker seemed to have found an internet family but had no connection to his real one.

Othram called up the Collier County Sheriff’s Office and offered to help. DNA analysis is expensive, though, and the company estimated that the whole project—from evidence to answers—would cost $5,000. The sheriff's office couldn't spend that much money on a case that involved no crime. But it would love Othram’s help if there were another way to pay for the work. And so three of the great trends of modern technology—crowdfunding, amateur sleuthing, and cutting-edge genomics—combined. Within eight days, the Facebook group had raised the money to run the analysis. Soon a small piece of bone from the hiker was on its way west from Collier County to the Othram labs.

The first step for Othram’s team was to extract DNA from the bone fragment and to then analyze it to make sure they had enough to proceed. They did, and so they soon put small samples of DNA onto glass slides, which they inserted into a sequencer, a machine that costs roughly a million dollars and looks like a giant washing machine made by Apple.

Unfortunately, it’s a washing machine that has a long run cycle. And it doesn’t always work. Sometimes the pages of the book you find are ripped or blurry. Sometimes the process is iterative and you have to tape fragments back together. So, as the sequencer spun, the Facebook hunters fretted that, once again, nothing would come of a promising lead. But by mid-August, Othram had a clean read on the DNA: They knew exactly what combination of As, Cs, Gs, and Ts had combined to create the mysterious hiker. A company spokesperson appeared live on the Facebook group’s page to detail the progress; posters responded with gratitude and euphoria.

Science sometimes gets harder with every step, though, and having the sequence was just the beginning. In order to identify Mostly Harmless, the team at Othram would have to compare his genetic information with other people’s. And they would start with a service called GEDMatch, a database of DNA samples that people have submitted, voluntarily, to answer their own hopes and questions—they want to find a lost half-sister or a clue about their grandpa. That collection of DNA has become a cornucopia for law enforcement. Each new sample submitted provides one more book for the library that can be searched and scoured. It was through this technique that investigators in Contra Costa County, California, found the Golden State Killer in the spring of 2018, connecting a DNA sample of the killer to GEDMatch samples of relatives. Just this past week, Othram helped law enforcement identify the murderer of a 5-year-old in Missoula, Montana, a case that had gone unsolved for 46 years.

It’s been over a month since Othram started looking through the GEDmatch database. It won’t say anything about what it has found, and the Collier County Sheriff’s Office is keeping quiet as well. But one source outside of the company who is familiar with its progress says that, while Othram doesn’t know Mostly Harmless’ name, it has found enough matching patterns to identify the region of the country from which his ancestors hail.

That isn’t sufficient though. Knowing for sure, for example, that his relatives came from Baton Rouge doesn’t mean Mostly Harmless came from Baton Rouge. His parents could have been born there and moved to Montreal. He could have been born in Louisiana and dropped on a doorstep in Maine. But, right now, the data scientists at Othram are combing through all the DNA samples in GEDMatch, looking for patterns and trying to circle closer to his identity. They’re most likely building out a family tree. Let’s say they found someone in GEDMatch whose DNA seems like a fourth cousin of Mostly Harmless, and then perhaps someone who seems like a third cousin. How do those two people connect? Through this sort of slow, painstaking analysis, they can get closer to an answer. Soon they might find his extended family, and then perhaps his parents’ names. And then law enforcement will be able to solve a case that has stumped them for more than two years.

They might get there, and they might not. A source familiar with the work suggests that the earliest we’ll get an answer is December. Unless between now and then, perhaps, someone reading this article or browsing a Facebook group recognizes his face. Or puts together clues that have eluded everyone else. Finally, he won’t be “Mostly Harmless”; he’ll have a real name.

And then, with that mystery solved, a new one will open up. Why did Mostly Harmless walk into the woods? And why, when things started to go wrong, didn’t he walk out?

[specdracers]

LANDON BENNETT + THE MOMENTS THAT MADE YOU 

"thought i got through it, maybe i didn’t ; thought it was over, maybe it isn’t.”

          he’s five years old in southern alabama, and he’s at the first foster home he can remember. landon’s happy. the parents are kind; there’s another little boy here, and they become friends. it’s like he finally has that brother he’s always been wishing for. at this point, he’s too young and naive, not having seen the harsh reality of the world. he thinks he’s going to be able to stay, the parents seem nice enough. his belly is full and the clothes are new, and the foster parents make it seem like he’s going to stay there for the rest of his life. he grows used to it, growing far too attached to the family, and there’s even talk about him being adopted! ( but he’s too young to really understand what that means. ) but he finally learns that all good things must come to an end when the social worker comes to the door and his foster parents have already packed his bags. he can’t remember what they tell him, probably blocked it out. but as he gets into the van and his friend waves goodbye to landon from the door, he can’t help but wonder what he did wrong as he’s being brought into the next house.

          now he’s eight and in the third grade. he isn’t too cynical yet, but he’s known to be a loner amongst his classmates. he’s so, so young and he’s already learned that things are better if you keep people at a distance. he does pretty well in classes, getting by with what’s available at the home he’s at. the foster parents are okay, but he’s convinced they’re just doing it for the extra money because the mom just got laid off. the teachers look at him with sad eyes most of the time but he’s grown so used to it. the report card goes home with comments about applying himself and getting out of his shell to make friends. but he always ignores it ; why try to make friends when everyone inevitably leaves him?

          middle school is rough for everyone, but for landon, at the age of twelve, he hates it with his entire being. kids aren’t kind, and he’s already gotten into so many fights. they think it would be easy to pick on the kid from the crappy group home on the wrong side of the tracks, but little do they know that he sometimes has to fight over his food when he leaves to go home at night⎯⎯ he’s learned how to throw a pretty nice right hook by now. but this time, they’re not picking on him ( thankfully ). instead it’s another boy, one that he knows just moved into the group home, and they’re talking about his clothes, or his shoes, maybe his hair? landon can’t remember, but he just thinks of how many times he’s been in that position and within seconds he’s on top of the bully, seeing everyone who has ever hurt him until the gym coach has to pull him off. 

          it’s freshman year of high school, and he’s on the bus to the town’s high school, knees pulled into his chest. and even though he’s trying his best to not get his hopes up, fourteen year old landon finds himself praying to every higher power in the universe that high school won’t be nearly as bad as middle school, he doesn't know how much more he can take of it. the bus pulls up at a huge building with teens all around the front, and he already begin to hide, drowning out the chaos with his headphones blasting 90s rap. a small part of him wants to make friends, but it’s been so long he’s forgotten how. so instead, he walks around the crowded high school hallways, hood pulled up as he ignores pretty much anything and anyone. it’s like this for months, him going through the motions and his teachers are always shocked when landon actually turns in work. they know he has the capacity of doing it, he just lacks the motivation for well, anything. 

          sophomore year, and his classmates are beginning to get their licenses and cars as they turn sixteen and he’s jealous. he knows he won’t be getting one, he’s not stupid. that doesn’t prevent him from walking around with a chip on his shoulders. landon’s developed quite the temper over the course of his adolescence, and he doesn’t take shit from anyone. he’s the poster child of teenage angst, a tongue that’s wicked quick and fists sometimes just seeming to itch for a fight. people take note of this and for someone who has always wanting to be invisible, he gains a reputation around the school. his teachers mutter it’s a coping mechanism, the poor boy’s never known a family. and they’re right, but they could at least have the decency to not say it when landon’s within earshot. 

          it’s about halfway through his sophomore year and all the rich kids are talking about their holidays down to florida for christmas when he’s approached by a group of boys. he knows who they are; while landon has a reputation of getting into fights some days, that’s about the most trouble he causes. but this group? it’s a whole other animal compared to getting into fights because someone looked at you wrong. they’re the type to get into trouble with the law ; it’s just petty robbery most days, but when they come to him asking if he wants to join, they say they need a driver, he can’t say no. he’s gone his whole life without being wanted, so he takes the first chance he can when sometimes says differently. 

          junior year comes around, and the boy just turned seventeen. he’s still with the same group of friends, and landon’s become the stereotypical stoner. comes to class high, sits in the back, and his teachers are still amazed at how landon manages to scrape by in his classes. it’s almost time for him to start applying to colleges ( as if he’s ever planned to go ) and he laughs in the counselor’s face when she says that he’s no future ivy league student but she knows he would have a good chance of getting into auburn ; what type of backhanded compliment is that for a seventeen year old boy? he leaves the office, throwing away the brochure for auburn as he leaves. 

          this is the year where landon knows he’s on the wrong path, but he doesn’t care. his friends and him wreak havoc on their town at night in a way of graffiti and breaking shit in alleyways. but one day as they’re walking down the street, his friends attempt at a robbery of a small convenience store ( the old guy was far too scary for these amateurs. ) too bad they were too dumb and didn’t even attempt to cover their faces and the store’s camera catches their faces. and after school the next day, the cops pull up arresting all of them. it’s quite a scene, and landon makes sure to smile for his peers’ cameras as he’s getting pushed into the back of a cop car. hours go by, and landon’s told that he’s free to go, considering the fact they didn’t steal anything and they are all minors. when he gets home, the old foster parents he had been staying tell him they’ve had enough of his bullshit. that they’ve tried to get through to him but he’s a lost cause. landon takes this as them basically pushing him out of the house, and he knows that the next day he’ll be whisked away to another home until he’s phased out of the system. with a quick and heartless ‘ fuck you ’ to the couple, landon stomps out of the door and to the closest bus stop with only a backpack full of clothes. after, he’s made his way to new york with the small amount of cash that he had saved for a rainy day ; he’s learned through his years that he always needs an escape plan. but just because he has an escape plan doesn’t mean he has a damn clue about what to do after the fact. 

          eventually, he figures out a way to survive. not many places hire high school drop-outs so he gets a job waiting tables. it’s not a lot, but it’s something. he’s staying in a halfway house that he found, and while there are plenty of unsavory characters around, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. he saves up just enough to get a shitty apartment that’s more like a closet, but it’ll have to do for now.

          he’s twenty now, and he’s working probably close to three jobs a week just to make ends meet. landon is many things, but the one thing that his friends in new york can’t call him is lazy. his friends are a slightly older than the twenty year old, and he never really knows what type of jobs they do, but he knows whatever they do pays well. they have the nicest clothes and shoes, and he tries his best to not get jealous of them. one day, his friends ask him about his driving, and he laughs, saying they’re in new york and he grew up poor; why the hell would he need a car? but they explain to him that that wasn’t the question, and landon’s confused. he’s never told them about fucking around as a high schooler with his friends, doing donuts in the grassy fields of his hometown. when he tells them that he’s pretty decent, there’s a special kind of glint in his friend’s eye. 

          a year later, and twenty-one year old landon is in the middle of a crime-ring. did he mean to? absolutely not, but it beats having to wait tables with rude customers anyday. he’s moved out of the closet that his landlord had marketed as an apartment and moves in with his friends. and for once, landon is happy. he has friends that want to be around him ( granted they’re all criminals but at least they’re bonding! ) his clothes are nice, and he drives a decent car on a daily basis. for the time-being, he forgets what it’s like to constantly be worried about everything being taken away from you. and then it becomes too late. 

          it’s a STUPID easy job, the words of nolan ring through his head over and over again as his torso is flush against the hood of the cop car. it had happened so fast, all landon had to do was just drive and he obviously couldn’t do that very well considering him and his friends are all going to be thrown in jail because of his own stupidity. he can’t look at his friends, knowing that it is his fault that it happened. it’s almost like he blacks out before he finds himself handcuffed in front of a detective wanting to know more information about who he and his friends work for. and even though it’s his fault for getting everyone into this mess, he’s not a snitch. at all his questions, landon sits across, silent with a stupid smug grin across his features. his only demands have been a lawyer. did law and order lie to him? he’s always thought they couldn’t interrogate him until a lawyer was present. and soon, someone walks in and the detective leaves and he can only assume it’s a lawyer. 

          but it isn’t. it’s some instructor from a school called gallagher and all landon does is laugh. he doesn’t take it seriously for the first couple of moments, but the eerie stare of the instructor shuts him up enough. at first, he refuses. he argues, what about his friends? what about their freedom? surely, there’s room for them at the school too, right? but the solemn shake of the instructor’s head gives landon all the answers he needs. he decides to go with them, the charges dropped and he’s free, but he isn’t happy about bailing on his friends. 

          at gallagher, twenty-two year old landon is majoring in driver’s ed. it’s such a lame name in his eyes for such an exciting major, but he loves it here ( despite always acting like he’s too cool for it ). he’s known to be a little shit once again, but landon makes it fun. for once, landon feels like he has a home.

[hookedontaronfics]

Aber Girl series - Saturday

Title: Aber Girl - Saturday Part 2 of 3. Find Friday’s adventure HERE. Rating: T Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Cursing and alcohol use A/N: Some confessions force Morgan to reevaluate her own memories as well as beliefs she has long held onto. Could giving one chance to Taron really be so bad? A Triple Shot [3-part] series. Plenty of cute fluffy Taron to come in Part 3. I hope you enjoy! x

I woke up to my alarm going off and my arm on absolute fire. The painkillers I’d been given at the hospital had long worn off, and I still needed to pick up my prescription at the pharmacy before my shift. I could already feel that this was going to be a long day as I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes. 

The events of the day before still lingered in my mind, and I tried not to dwell too much on Taron’s face, but for some reason found it difficult to do. His stupid, pretty face. I didn’t remember when he’d gotten so handsome, and I immediately banished that thought from my mind. It’d do me no good to think that way.

I stood up and shuffled across the floor, the cold seeping through my feet and making me shiver. I managed to get out of my pajamas and maneuver a clean shirt on around the cast, wincing slightly when the fabric brushed over my hand. I hadn’t counted on how difficult it would be to get myself into my jeans one-handed, and I ended up tipping over onto the floor with a shriek. I instantly heard footsteps running up the stairs and realized my bum was still hanging out in the air, clad only in my underwear. “I’m fine! Don’t open the -” I tried to say but my father swung it open anyway.

“Morgan, are you, oh… oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he said, turning a bright shade of red at my predicament. He instantly stepped backward and around the doorframe, but I could hear him standing there still, panting a bit because he was out of shape.

“Oh my god,” I agreed.

“Well, to be fair, nothing I haven’t seen before. I used to give you baths as a kid, you know,” he said awkwardly.

“Dad!” I yelled, absolutely mortified. I groaned, pushing myself upright and wriggling my pants on the rest of the way. I cursed a few times while I wrestled to get the button clasped.

“Language, dear,” my father reminded me, before peeking in again. “What in the world happened there?” he asked, concerned as I adjusted the sling around my body and settled my arm in it.

“Work accident,” I sighed.

“Honey, why didn’t you call your mom and me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek against the swell of pain that nearly made me gasp out.

“You didn’t walk to the hospital, did you?” he asked, stepping into my room again and pulling me into a careful hug, sweetly patting my hair like I was five years old again.

“No, I got a ride from-” I stopped myself, but my dad didn’t seem to notice.

“We would have come and gotten you,” he said as I extricated myself from his hug.

“I know, and I appreciate it, but I’m really running behind already and I don’t want to be late, so can we talk about this later?” I asked, shooing him out of the room.

“Sure, dear, your mum’s got breakfast ready downstairs,” he smiled at me, and I nodded my thanks as I headed to the bathroom to finish getting ready. I swallowed a couple over-the-counter ibuprofen, hoping it would take the edge off, and did my best to not jostle my arm too much.

I wisely chose a heavy wool peacoat this time, something I could manage to button on my own, if a little clumsily. As I hurried down the stairs, I nearly caught my purse strap on the edge of the banister in my haste. The last thing I needed to do was tumble down the stairs and break my other arm. I had that kind of talent for tripping over air, it seemed.

As soon as I breezed into the kitchen, my mom tried to worry over me too. I appreciated my parents’ concern, but I really did need to get to my job, a job I would probably be late for now. I likely had a good excuse with my arm in a cast, though; you had to use any advantage you could. “Love you guys, got to go!” I called, grabbing a buttered crumpet off the plate and stuffing it in my mouth as I let myself out of the house, the door slamming behind me.

Despite the sun shining fully that morning, a blast of cold air still greeted me and I pulled my coat collar up against the wind. Aber winters always made me wish I had my own car, but between student loan payments and saving to get my own apartment, I didn’t have any cash to spare. I hurried into town, finishing the crumpet and stopping at the pharmacy to pick up my medicine. I nearly cried at the price of the pills, but I needed them so I handed over my credit card. This was going to set me way back, I thought.

I was grateful when I finally turned the corner to the bookstore, rushing inside for the warmth and taking a moment to breathe in the scent of books as I always did before going to find my boss.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said, knocking on the open office door. 

“Couldn’t have texted me first?” my boss asked, entering some numbers before looking up from the computer. I dumped my coat off on the rack and sighed as she did a double-take over my cast.

“Had a minor mishap at work yesterday,” I said, as she quickly gestured to the other chair for me to sit.

“We’ll have to fill out an incident report then,” she said, and I groaned inwardly until she informed me my medical bills might be covered since it happened at work. I gave her the basic details of what happened but had to pause when she asked me if I knew who the customer was; Aber was a fairly small place and you got to know your neighbors if you lived there long enough.

The silence stretched out between us as she waited for me to answer. “It was … Taron Egerton,” I replied, a bit painfully. “He’s been visiting home again, I guess,” I added, biting my thumb while my boss did what most people usually do at the mention of his name - She grew flustered about the fact that he’d even been in our store and tried to pry details out of me that I couldn’t supply.

“I don’t know what he was here to get, I was busy doing my job,” I said in a huff. It was embarrassing, really, watching a 50-something-year-old woman get beside herself over him. 

We finally wrapped up in the office, got the store open and I went about my day, trying to put Taron out of my mind. Saturdays in Aber were typically busy for most retail businesses along the strip, and I enjoyed having a laugh with my co-workers who were also on my shift. Between helping customers, we’d come up with a game where everyone tried to spin the most ridiculous tale as to the cause of my accident, and we were in fits when Andreyah bounced through the door, the sun making her auburn hair glow brightly.

“Special delivery!” she grinned at me, handing me a cup of coffee, knowing my order by heart.

“Oh my god, I love you a latte,” I deadpanned, and Andreyah shoved me playfully in my good arm.

“You and your puns,” she groaned, as I breathed in the rich aroma of my drink.

“I know, it’s great right?” I giggled.

“Yeah, don’t quit your day job,” she grinned, leaning casually against the counter while I rang up a customer as best I could with one arm. Everyone so far had been patient, and I was grateful for it. I handed the customer, who was rather cute, his bag and gave him a cheerful good-bye, watching him walk toward the door. Andreyah caught my gaze and snickered at me. What? I mouthed to her as the good-looking man pushed his way out the door, just as an all-too-familiar face came in.

“Oh god, no,” I said, instantly crouching down behind the counter and upsetting a display of bookmarks in the process.

“Morgan!” Andreyah hiss-laughed, unable to contain herself as Taron strode in, having seen me despite my best efforts. He walked up to the counter and peered over it at me, his green eyes taking in my awkward position.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my tone probably on the far side of rude.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said, and I wanted to hate him for being a such a damn gentleman. 

“I survived,” I snapped, and he looked deflated at my tone. I stood up and we stared at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat and I looked away.

“Also, I never bought what I came here to get last night. I was wondering if you could help?” he pressed on. Andreyah made an “ooh” noise and wandered off to browse, leaving me with Taron. It was going to take me a while to forgive her for that.

“I can’t, I’m busy,” I said, righting the display and starting to pick the bookmarks up off the counter.

“Morgan,” he said, placing a hand on mine. Perhaps it had been an impulse on his part, but it both angered and thrilled me at the same time, and I was confused at my brain’s response.

I dropped the bookmarks back on the counter and in an attempt to distract myself I grabbed my coffee and took a sip, looking across the shop to try and find any other colleague who was available, but everyone else was already helping a customer.

“Oh fine,” I said. “And only because I’m doing my job,” I added for good measure, shoving my hand in my pocket. “So what are you looking for?”

“Well,” he said, copying my move and also shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s nearly Christmas and I wanted to get my sisters some books,” he said, his face lighting up with a grin at the mention of the girls. He adored them, and so did pretty much the whole town. I’d seen them in the store before with their mum, and they were polite and well-behaved and cute as a button. I had no problem with his family, as they’d done nothing wrong.

“Alright, well, what do they like to read?” I asked as I led Taron to the children’s section. “We’ve got everything from mermaids to unicorns. It runs the gamut of cute,” I said. 

“Gamut of cute, eh?” he said with a grin, his gaze passing over me for a moment, but I ignored that fact as I pulled some of my personal favorites off the shelf. I may have gotten distracted and read a kid’s book or two while shelving, but could you blame me?

I forgot that I hated him while I helped him shop, getting lost in my passion for books and actually laughing when he started to read one of the stories in a goofy voice. After about 15 minutes or so, we ended up with an interesting and varied stack of books, each one I felt the girls would love. Clearly, their brother had a generous heart and deep pockets.

I followed him as he carried the books back up to the counter, and started to ring his purchase up. I noted him rifling through the bookmarks out of the corner of my eye. “Ah here, add this,” he said, choosing one and adding it to the stack. I added it to the tab and ran his card, focusing on that part of the transaction while he bagged his own books. I wasn’t about to argue.

“Thanks again,” I said, giving him a not-entirely-genuine smile, just happy to have him out of the store.

“Wait,” he said, looking behind him to make sure no one else was in line. “Let me take you out for a coffee. Or a beer, something. Give me a chance to explain,” he fairly pleaded with me. The offer was actually tempting, as I would relish the chance to tell him off again, I told myself. Or maybe I was just curious to figure out a piece of my past I’d always thought I knew. He fidgeted slightly as I deliberated with myself. 

“Here,” he said, pulling out the bookmark he’d just bought and jotting down his number on the back of it. “You don’t have to decide right now. I’ll be in town all weekend. You can let me know,” he said, pushing the bookmark across the counter to me.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll uh, let you know,” I said, wishing I’d sounded more sure of myself.

“Take care of yourself, Morgan,” he said softly, giving me a half-smile before turning and heading out the door. I slowly ran my fingers over the tassel of the bookmark, spreading out the ribbons and lost in thought until another customer came up. I shook myself out of it, sliding the bookmark, and Taron’s number, into my back pocket before ringing up the customer a bit absent-mindedly.

“So what’d he want?” Andreyah asked, finding her way back to the counter, a couple of books tucked under her arm.

“Just books for his sisters,” I said, choosing not to tell her about the standing offer. I’m not sure why, but this felt far too personal to me, and her enthusiasm wouldn’t help me here.

“That’s really sweet,” she said with a dreamy sigh as I rang up her books.

“Don’t you get started on about how dishy he is,” I said with a laugh. “I need you on my side here!”

“Alright, alright,” she laughed, holding up her hands. “But he did come in to check up on you too, so…” she said, trailing off.

“So what?” I asked. “He’s the reason I’m hurt in the first place,” I said, realizing how much that reverberated through my life.

“Maybe it’s time to do some healing, Mori,” Andreyah said softly, staring me down until I felt uncomfortable. “Alright, I should go. Don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss. We’ll talk later, alright?”

“Of course,” I said, giving her a smile despite the cracks I felt opening up inside. I waved and watched her go, finishing my coffee and doing my best to survive the rest of my shift. I was grateful when I was free to go. I swung next door to The Grail, grabbing my favorite go-to snack, as their hummus and pita were the best around. When I took a seat near the window, I felt something snag in my back pocket. I’d completely forgotten the bookmark, and I pulled it out and stared at the neat digits printed there.

I pulled my phone out and stared at the screen for a long moment before finally dialing, waiting for the other end to pick up.

“Baby sister! So good to hear from you!” my brother answered enthusiastically on the second ring.

“Hey Dex,” I grinned, using my favorite nickname for my brother. I could never be in a bad mood around him.

“How are the old folks?” he asked.

“They’re just mum and dad, you know,” I said, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I was overwhelmed with everything that had happened, and hearing my brother’s voice elicited a pang of longing. I missed my brother terribly, even if he didn’t live that far away, just down the A487 in Cardigan. We’d always been so close growing up.

He must have heard the tremble in my voice. “Is everything alright, Morgan?”

“No, not really. I kinda need my big brother right now,” I said, trying not to cry in the cafe. No one needed salty tears in their hummus. “Can you come here?” I asked pitifully.

My brother paused for a moment. “Morgan, I’m an hour away. It’s a bit of a drive,” he reasoned.

“I know. But this is about Taron,” I said, listening to the silence on the other end of the line. “Hello? Dex?” I asked.

“What about him?” Declan asked quietly.

“He’s back in Aber and we’ve had a bit of a run-in. He said there was shit about what went down between you two that I don’t know.”

Declan sighed heavily, and I could imagine him running his fingers through his long hair the way he always did when he was agitated. “I haven’t thought about that in years. Why has it come up now?” he finally asked.

“It’s… a long story,” I replied. “I’m not sure I’ve been the kindest person.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Dex replied.

“Hey! What does that mean?” I asked indignantly, jabbing a piece of pita into the hummus with more force then I’d meant to.

“Morgan, I’ve known you my entire life and I’ve never once seen you give someone a second chance.”

“So you’re saying I should give Taron Egerton a second chance. Taron, of all people?” I scoffed around a bite of the pita.

“I just don’t see the point in carrying a grudge on something that happened over a decade ago. I’ve forgiven him and moved on with my life. He’s mostly the one that took the blame over his mates for what happened. Morgan, you should know he’s never said an unkind word to me in his life.” I nearly choked on the piece of pita I was chewing.

“What?” I managed to ask, an uneasy feeling beginning in the pit of my stomach.

“You’ve always been protective of me, sis, and maybe there was a time I needed it. But you’ve built walls around yourself to do that and I think you’re only hurting yourself now.” There was a reason my brother gave corporate presentations for a job; he had the motivational speaker thing down pat. Meanwhile, I just felt like I was crumbling.

We talked a bit further and when we hung up, I’d made my decision. I typed Taron’s number into my phone and opened a text message. <One chance.> I sent, feeling suddenly and stupidly nervous.

<One chance is all I need.> he replied back immediately, followed by a time and place. I was surprised, because it wasn’t where I’d expected him to choose. I finished up my snack and walked back home, having a little time to kill and feeling like my world had turned upside down. The revelations my brother had revealed tore a bit at the edges of the anger I’d held onto for so long.

When the time to leave arrived, I was almost a nervous wreck. I asked my parents if I could borrow the car for the evening, and thankfully they agreed. I didn’t want to charge a cab ride if I didn’t have to, as I couldn’t have walked to where we were meeting. I made the drive over to Ysgol Penglais, following Taron’s texted directions, wondering if he was half-crazy. I slowed my speed a bit on Cefn Llan since no one was behind me, searching for his car, and pulled off the road behind him when I spotted it.

“What the heck are we doing here?” I asked when we’d both exited our cars, my breath coming out in white puffs.

“Just trust me,” he said, giving me a wicked grin before walking up and down the hedge row that bordered the school. He must have found what he was looking for because he beckoned me over, and we managed to squeeze through the small break he must have known was there all along. We ran across the grounds, half-bent over as if that would conceal us in the open, but it was a Saturday evening and no one was there anyway. The windows were all dark, Taron leading me around to a particular one and, to my surprise and with a little effort on his part, he managed to slide it open. He clasped his hands together and offered it to me.

“Are you out of your bloody mind? We’re not breaking into the school!” I said.

“Oh come on, live a little,” he smirked. “My mates and I always used to do this back in the day.”

“I’m not your mate,” I said, cringing slightly as that sounded different coming out of my mouth than it had in my head. He just shook his head in amusement and beckoned me to put my foot in his hand.

“Oh what the hell,” I said, wondering if this was the dumbest thing I’d ever decided to do in my life. Taron was surprisingly strong, boosting me up into the window with no trouble, and I balanced on the ledge a bit precariously for a moment, finding it difficult to not use both of my arms. I managed to jump down safely to the other side and waited as Taron hefted himself up and over with no help at all. I couldn’t help but be impressed. The hallways were darkened, but the windows let in enough light for us to see, and after a few moments I knew exactly where he was headed.

He pulled the auditorium doors open, and we both turned our phone flashlights on as we bumped our way down the aisle, climbing the steps until we were standing on the stage, facing out to an audience that would have been there had this been a production. “I have so many memories here,” Taron said, his voice echoing a bit before he pulled out two bottles of beer he’d stashed in his coat. He took a seat at the edge of the stage, legs swinging over, and I joined him. We sat our phones down between us, the lights shining up and casting strange shadows on the ceiling, but I didn’t feel scared to be there with him. 

He popped the cap off one of the bottles and handed it to me. I took a swig and waited for him to say more; he knew why we were here, and I desperately needed to know what had happened. “I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am, and what’s done is unfortunately done,” he started, a slight tremor working its way into his voice as he tried to recall the events of those days. I sat and listened, drinking my beer and looking over at him every now and again. The way the light shone up highlighted the lines of his jaw, and when his eyes met mine from time to time, I could see the softness of his eyelashes. It wasn’t what I had meant to be thinking, but I’d have been truly blind to not see how he filled out the jeans and shirt he was wearing.

“We were 15, and we were stupid. I don’t think any of us meant to hurt your brother,” Taron finally said, drawing to a close. “I knew the bullying was wrong, and I should have stood up for him. But I was questioning myself, my own intentions and even my sexuality, and I thought if I defended your brother then I might’ve been the next one on the chopping block. It was cowardly, and I’ve held that close to my heart for a long time,” he spoke into the darkness, and I couldn’t help the sympathy that dug its way through me.

“Your silence made you complicit, don’t you see that?” I asked sadly.

“Of course I realized it later, after some counseling and maturity caught up to me. And I tried to talk to you about it, once. I was about to graduate and felt the need to make amends for all the dumb shit I’d done in school,” he replied, which was news to me. The few interactions with Taron I remembered from school days had mostly been him teasing me or showing off for his schoolmates.

“The thing is, Morgan, at some point you stopped being just Declan’s little sister and started being someone I rather fancied. I never said anything because I always thought you were off-limits.” You could have heard a pin drop in the auditorium; I’m pretty sure I had forgotten how to breathe. “Anyway, I’m sure that ship has long set sail for me. But I hope you can at least forgive me.”

I truly didn’t know what to say, stunned into silence at his sudden confession. I was pummeled every which way by the different emotions coursing through me, memories replaying in my mind that I suddenly saw in a completely different light. “Holy shit, I’ve been such an idiot,” I said. I’d been so focused on protecting Declan that I’d never once thought to ask what it meant for myself.

“No, not you. It’s always been me being the idiot,” he said, turning to me and sweetly cupping my chin with his hand. “For all my years of acting, you’d think I’d have gotten better at this. I’ve been the one too afraid to admit my feelings out loud,” he continued, his eyes boring into mine. I’d never experienced this kind of raw honesty from anyone before, and I couldn’t hide the way it made me feel. 

“And now I think I’ve gone and lost you,” he said, searching my face. “You’ve hated me for so long. I don’t know how I could possibly change your mind.” He seemed so crestfallen that I felt it echo in my own chest.

“One chance. One day,” I said with a sudden smile. “You get one day with me tomorrow to change my mind.”

I watched the grin spread across his sweet face, brightening his eyes, and it was all for me. “I could give you the world in one day,” he said, brushing his thumb across my lips. We stared at each other for a moment, the space between us suddenly feeling very, very small. I sucked in my breath as he leaned in closer and then the auditorium doors swung open, scaring the shit out of me. I reacted, banging my forehead into Taron’s nose. “Shit, I’m sorry!” I gasped as a disembodied voice called out “What are you kids doing in here!” I doubt the janitor could see us clearly either.

“Come on!” Taron giggled, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. He headed for the backstage, knowing the place like the back of his hand, and we weaved our way in and out of props until he found a back door. We pushed our way through it, laughing and breathless, the janitor’s shouts still echoing somewhere behind us as we tore off down the hallway, back toward the window and our escape.

I lay in my bed later that night, recounting our mad dash back to the cars in the waning light, the way he’d laughingly pulled the sticks from the hedge out of my hair and how he’d promised me the best day of my life tomorrow. I was still fairly buzzed from the beer and the way Taron had looked at me, like I was the only girl in the world. I finally understood that particular Taron effect now that I’d chosen to finally see the man he’d grown up to be. He was no longer that lanky, awkward teen straight out of my memories, the one I’d hung every last school-year ache upon. My insides felt like they’d been melted down to nothing and reshaped overnight; I was not the same Morgan I had been the day before. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face, truly looking forward to exploring Aber in a different way, with someone I found I rather fancied after all.

The sweet tale continues on Sunday. Read it HERE.

[t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o]

Announcement

Because Shawn killed me at the VMA’s and my heart went soft and mushy.

Please enjoy this little snippet.

~T-Rex 🦖💕

“Go! Go! You’re going to make this harder than it needs to be!” Estelle says laughing as Shawn dances around your hotel room.

“But I wanna watch my girl get all dolled up!” He whines, pouting playfully smiling at you as you sit in the chair. Your hair pinned up in a few places, pink silk robe on.

“You’re gonna see me in a bit honey.” You tell him giggling as he runs over to kiss you again.

“I love you, I’ll see you in a bit. Can’t wait to see you in your pretty dress.” Shawn whispers pressing kisses to your lips before hurrying off.

“Alright baby...lets knock his socks off.” The older woman says before spinning you to face her. Getting to work on your foundation, while Katie brings in your dress and heels.

~2 1/2 hours later~

“Holy fuck me.” Shawn gasps as you step out of your hotel room.

“Watch it Mendes.” Andrew teases laughing as he stands off to the side. Shawn’s eyes wide as he stares at you, a blush forming on your cheeks.

“What?”

“I am the luckiest guy in the whole fucking planet baby.” He says eyes bugging still as he looks at you.

“What are you wearing?” You ask before giggling as you see the two different colors of his suit.

“Did they just take two suits and sew them together? Tiff why did you let this happen?” You ask laughing still as he steps over to you, admiring the way your hair is curled.

“The designer wanted him, I worked with what I had!” She defends, laughing softly while smiling at you.

“Alright...are we gonna do this now? Or wait for the carpet?” Margaret asks as she looks at you both, holding her phone.

“Boomarang?” You ask your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow.

“Would there be any other way?” Shawn questions smiling at you sweetly. Pulling you closer and kissing your cheek while whispering in your ear. Both Andrew and Margaret filming with your respective phones.

“Alright...you’re sure about this?” Shawn asks looking at you, both of you holding your phones.

“I’m positive. It’s good, I’m sure it won’t be that bad...I just wanna be able to hold your hand in public.”

“Alright baby.” You both hit ‘post’ before locking your phones. You tucking yours away into your clutch, while Shawn tucks his away into his pocket.

~red carpet~

“You really are beautiful sweetheart.” Shawn says quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You look rather dashing.” You tell him, smiling gently as the car pulls up to the event. Cameras, reporters, and fans already waiting for their favorite celebrities.

“Good evening Mr. Mendes, Miss. L/N.” A security member says as he opens your door. Shawn getting out first and adjusting his jacket before reaching in for your hand.

You step out carefully, making sure to kick your dress out. Both of you waving and smiling at the crowds before beginning your walk down the carpet.

‘Kick, walk, kick, walk’ You think to yourself as you keep your eyes up and at the cameras. Letting Shawn help you move into different positions for photos.

“Shawn! Shawn! Over here!” He lets go of your waist as you pose for a few pictures.

“So you and Y/N L/N just announced your relationship a mere 45 minutes ago...was it preplanned or spur of the moment?” The interviewer asks as she holds her microphone to his face.

“We have talked about it a few times, but decided on doing it tonight. Wanted to walk with my girl.” Shawn says smiling at her, a glint in his eyes.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Almost nine months now, just waiting for the right time I suppose. Thank you so much.” He says before moving away, making his way back to your side. Arm curling around your waist while you both smile at cameras.

“I love you.” Shawn whispers once you’ve made it to the entrances.

“I love you too rockstar...now hurry up before Andrew has a fit.” You tease letting him press a kiss to your lips before running off. You walk with Margaret to your seats, smiling as you see the two empty ones for Andrew and Shawn.

“Seems fate was in the cards for us.” You tell your manager, making her nod her head.

“I know, I wasn’t sure if you two were going to be sitting together. But I’m glad we are, how are you feeling?” She asks, looking around for a water boy.

“I’m good, it was a lot of people. But I’m okay.” You respond, taking a deep breath and adjusting your dress. You both get swept into other conversations with different people. Different artists coming to say hello to you, having only been in the business for almost two years.

Not many people knew who you were, you still had no idea how Shawn had found out about you. You supposed it was from Teddy, the girl adored you and your work. Said you were going to be the next Alicia Keys all of the time. Shawn had become a confidant, someone who understood what you were going through.

You could talk to him about anything, because he got it right away. You had skirted around your feelings for him, until one night it had all come out when you were across the world from each other.

Then the rest was history, and here you were now. Announcing you were together, attending your first awards show together, and you were about to watch him perform his baby.

“I’ve heard he’s got a surprise in store for tonight.”

“I was gonna come watch him during rehearsals, but I ended up having that interview with Christina.” You say, sipping at a water Margaret had gotten for you.

“Hello my people.” Andrew says sitting down on your other side a seat away, smiling at you.

“Is he almost ready?” You question, he nods a bit and looks up as the lights dim down.

“Please welcome SHAWN MENDES!” Cardi calls after her speech, the opening music for ‘In My Blood’ beginning.

“Look at him go...he’s doing so good.” You whisper, keeping your tears at bay as you watch your boyfriend jam. A wide smile on his face as he plays his heart out with his most meaningful song.

“Wait for it.” Andrew mumbles, causing your eyebrows to furrow before you gasp. Water dripping down on your boyfriend causing the biggest grin to come on his face.

“Shawn Peter Raul.” You whisper shaking your head while smiling. Shawn looks over and makes eye contact with you, before playing even harder.

“Oh what am I gonna do with you?” You hum to yourself, heart pounding as you almost feel his adrenaline.

“I swear this boy is gonna be the death of me.” Andrew and Margaret both laughing at you, while all three of you wait for said boy to come over.

“Hi, excuse me, hi thank you.” Shawn murmurs as he finally comes to his seat.

“You’ve been 20 for not even two weeks yet...are you trying to kill the entire fandom?” You ask, looking up at him and seeing the flush on his cheeks.

“What are you...oh the water?”

“The water and the tank top...and those pants...how dare you.” You tease, smiling as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“And what exactly were my pants doing?” He murmurs in your ear, hand curling around yours.

“Why don’t I show you when we get back to the hotel?” You say just as soft, making him smile again. A whole new flush coloring his cheeks and neck, while you both turn your head back to Brendon Urie.

——————

@justanothershawngirl

[wittystiles]

The Bluff || Part 7 || Mitch Rapp

Author: wittystiles

Word Count: 4k

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader (one day)

Summary: Mitch and (Y/N) have a friendly outting.

A/N: Okay. So. I wrote chapter 6 and chapter 7 in one night. After drinking the night before and hardly sleeping. And while also sick. So. If this sucks, that’s terrible, and I can promise you, I can’t do better. My brain is oatmeal. This is the last chapter of this you will get until well into January of next year, so. Prepare for that. I hope this chapter was funny, and you enjoyed it. Merry Christmas, have some Mitch. (-:

(Y/N) shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside Mitch, watching through the plexiglass as the cab driver ran Mitch’s credit card. She couldn’t help but acknowledge that it wasn’t even really his, but rather that of someone named Mitch Kruse. She was wearing Mitch’s grey sweatpants that he reserved for sleeping, and one of his baggy black t-shirts underneath a slightly darker shade of black hooded zip-up jacket. She felt both exposed and too covered at the same time.

Accepting his credit card back from the cab driver, Mitch spoke in French giving the man what (Y/N) could only assume was a thank you. Mitch stuffed the card into his leather wallet, stepping from the cab. He held one hand out to (Y/N), helping her from the cab, as he stuffed his wallet into his back pocket with his other. He looked her over, sighing heavily at her. She looked like a child being forced to wear their dads clothes because they had gotten theirs dirty playing in the dirt. “You’ll have your own clothes to wear soon, (Y/N).” Mitch promised, not dropping her hand.

“Do we really have to do this?” (Y/N) asked, looking from the large store in front of her to Mitch at her side. He gave her a nod, taking a few steps towards the store. She pulled her hand from his, remaining in her spot. Mitch turned to face her, narrowing his eyes a little.

“Let’s go, (Y/N).” “I don’t want to go shopping, and I certainly don’t want to have to hold your cold hand.” “My hand isn’t cold.” Mitch argued, resting his fingers against his cheek. /Not cold/, he thought. “(Y/N). Please. I don’t have any patience for this, can we please just go into the store. It’s cold out here, and you have my jacket.”

“Who’s fault is that?” (Y/N) grumbled, holding her hand out for Mitch to take. He did, lacing his fingers with hers.

The two walked hand in hand into the store, Mitch looking quickly at the directory sign. “Womens is up the escalator.” He indicated towards the escalator with his free hand, keeping (Y/N)s tight in his other. The two walked to the escalator, (Y/N) stepping onto the one before Mitch, turning to look down at him as the escalator climbed.

“Do we really need to pose as a couple?” (Y/N) wondered, leaning her back against the railing.

“Yes. If you don’t want the two of us to be given weird looks and asked odd questions in a language you don’t understand. Yes, we do. Besides, still just following orders.” Mitch supplied, giving (Y/N) a fake smile.

“Orders from /who/?” (Y/N) groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “This all knowing, all important boss of yours, Stan? The one who calls you randomly and tells you what to do. Which, of course you oblige to. Because you’re a dutiful little lap dog?”

Mitch sighed and tugged on her hand, making her nearly fall, catching her before she did. “Don’t call me a lap dog.” Mitch warned, making sure she was steady again before removing his hand from her waist. “I do what I’m told because he’s my boss, (Y/N). No other reason. Now. Slap on a fake smile and we’ll get this shopping over with and we can return to the hotel room where you can be horrible to me without the eyes of strangers on us.”

(Y/N) almost laughed at that. At how little Mitch knew about the privacy he didn’t actually have.

“I would never date you,” (Y/N) said under her breath, stepping off of the escalator right before Mitch.

Mitch pretended not to hear her comment, knowing she was lying because she was mad at him. Not that he cared, oh no. Mitch would never be concerned with whether or not (Y/N) would want to date him. It’s not like I would date you either, Mitch thought to himself as he followed behind her.

“I don’t know why you’re upset.” Mitch acknowledged, stopping when she did. “You’re getting clothes. Something you’ve been complaining about since -” he cleared his throat to stop his sentence. He worried about letting others know he rescued her, and was glad she caught on.

“I am not upset because I am getting clothes, Mitch. I’m upset because I’m cold, and I’m hungry since someone ruined breakfast.”

“You ruined breakfast.”

(Y/N) shrugged, “semantics.”

Mitch loosely held (Y/N)’s hand, watching her peruse the underwear that was carefully displayed in neat rows. “How much are you willing to spend on me?”

Mitch shrugged, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “it’s not my money (Y/N). I don’t care how much you blow.”

“I will not say something about that. I will not. No, (Y/N).” She shook her head, returning her attention to underwear. Mitch raised his eyes to look at her as she spoke to herself, deciding to just leave it alone.

The two stood in front of the underwear for a moment, Mitch engrossed in reading a report on his phone about activity near their hotel, (Y/N) trying to decide the best underwear to get. “What about these?” She asked, holding up a black cotton thong with lace accents on the waistband.

Mitch sighed, “I couldn't care less about what underwear you choose (Y/N). Please don’t ask me to be a consultant.”

(Y/N)’s lips curled in the corners, “as my boyfriend I would expect you to care. You should put your phone away honey and show some interest in your girlfriend lest she go ask another man’s opinion.”

“Does it cover your ass?” Mitch questioned, keeping his eyes on the screen in his hand, his other gripping hers tighter.

“Not really.” (Y/N) acknowledged, spinning the underwear around her index finger.

“Then don’t get them.”

“Why?” (Y/N) pouted her bottom lip out a little. Mitch sighed, finally raising his eyes to meet hers. They soon lowered to her lips and finally to the thong revolving around in the air. “(Y/N). Please stop spinning those panties around.”

“Please give me your attention.” “I am.”

(Y/N) sighed, handing him the underwear. “Let me find a few more pairs. I guess I’ve /got/ to go with thongs since you want me to get something that doesn’t cover my ass.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh, dropping the underwear back onto the display before shoving his phone into his pocket. “I believe I recommended you getting ones that /did/ cover your ass.”

“I figured you were playing reverse psychology or something on me.”

“If I were doing that I would tell you not to get any underwear at all.”

“Why?” “So you would just to spite me.”

(Y/N) smirked, “that’s fair.”

He picked the pair she had picked out back up, holding them while she continued looking. She found another two pair, offering them to him to hold while she found a fourth. “Five pairs should do, right?”

“Double it, for safe measure. Always be over prepared.”

“Oh, like you aren’t?”

“I didn’t expect to have another person in my clothes, (Y/N). And I didn’t expect to be in Paris this long.”

“Always expect the unexpected, Mitch.”

He closed his eyes so as to not roll them at her before smacking her across the face with the four pairs of underwear he held in his hand. “Always expect the unexpected.”

(Y/N) snatched the underwear from Mitch’s hand, giving him a stern glare. “Do not ever hit me in the face with my own underwear ever again.” “They aren’t yours yet,” Mitch pointed out, scratching at the uneven growth of hair along his jawline and up halfway on his left cheek. “You’ve got to pay for them first. Then they will be yours.”

She picked up a final pair of underwear, checking that she had ten. “Can I get a bra?”

“Do you need one?”

(Y/N) looked down at her ample chest that was hidden underneath the clothing she wore. “Yes, Mitch. I think I need a bra.” She noticed a woman approaching them, offering them both a warm smile. (Y/N) groaned, “we’ve got company.” “Yes, (Y/N), I have eyes.”

(Y/N) elbowed Mitch in the side and he quickly twisted their hands, moving her wrist to an uncomfortable position causing her to yelp audibly. She turned her body slightly towards him, giving him a look that pleaded he stop holding her wrist that way. He obliged a beat before the woman reached the two of them, greeting them in French.

(Y/N) beat Mitch in responding, saying a cheery “hello” to her in English.

The womans face dropped for a millisecond, only Mitch catching it, before she launched into accented English. “Hello! What are you two looking for today?”

“Well,” (Y/N) sighed looking at Mitch. “My darlin’ here is looking to buy me a bra.” She smiled, feigning an accent of her own. Something that sounded nearly southern, but had too much of a boston twang to it to be solely that. Mitch wondered how long he could bear to listen to her speak like that before he broke her neck.

“Ah, wonderful. Our bras are right this way.” The woman smiled, noticing the underwear in (Y/N)’s hand. “One moment. I will get you a bag.” The woman bound off, and Mitch groaned.

“Don’t talk like that anymore, (Y/N). It is already wearing on my last nerve and you’ve said one sentence.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “you wanted me to act like your girlfriend, right? I feel like this is how your girlfriend would talk.” (Y/N) felt a wave of deja vu wash over her. How much acting would she really have to do in the time she would be around Mitch?

The woman returned with a small bag which (Y/N) stuffed the underwear into. “If you would please,” the woman indicated for (Y/N) and Mitch to follow her, which they did.

“Here are all of our bras,” the woman said with a smile, indicating the bra selection before them. “There’s a lot of A’s and B’s here,” the woman gestured to a selection of bras. “And the larger cup sizes are here.” She motioned to another section. "I'm sorry there's not much, but... To us, more than a handful is wasteful." She smile had a slightly superior air to it now as she looked down her nose at (Y/N)'s chest, which refused to be hidden by the baggy clothes. (Y/N) smiled and moved her hand from Mitch's grip in order to take his wrist in her hold. (Y/N) lifted their joined hands, holding his wrist while unlacing their fingers. She moved his hand via his wrist to her chest, having him cup her left breast. Mitch’s eyes instantly widened, fingers moving to cup her breast in his palm instinctively, noticing absently that she was cold. (Y/N) smirked as she jumped into her hodge podge of an accent. "I'm lucky that my sweetie here has big hands then. It fits just fine.” (Y/N)’s lips spread into a sickeningly sweet smile as she released Mitch’s wrist. His hand fell from her breast, finding her hand again. His fingers locked with hers, squeezing hard. (Y/N) was impressed with her ability to suppress her whimper. “I think we’ve got it from here, sugar. Thank you! If we need you again, we’ll find you.”

The woman looked briefly disappointed before nodding, leaving the fake couple to look at bras together. “Shouldn’t you walk away now too, Mitch?” (Y/N) wondered, reaching out to pick a bra in a soft pink color.

“You know, you’re wearing my jacket but somehow I think it’s still a bit nippy in here, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) stuck her tongue between her lips, biting down on it to keep from laughing. “Was that a pun, Mitch?”

Mitch shook his head, “no. Why would it be a pun, (Y/N)? Oh! Are you saying I would know the state of your nipple? I mean, it wasn’t just forced against my palm, was it?” Mitch sighed, “wait. No. It was.” He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “To address your earlier question, (Y/N), no. I shouldn’t walk away. Unfortunately for the both of us, I have to be glued to you. I would dramatically glue our hands together, however I don’t think that would be good for either of us. I’ve heard super glue is a real bitch to get off of the skin.”

“Not really,” (Y/N) shrugged. “I used to get super glue on my fingers all of the time when I was younger and putting an acrylic back on that had popped off due to my own stupidity. It was a simple removal process. Just took patience.”

“(Y/N),” Mitch looked down at their joined hands. “I have no patience, especially where you are concerned. To think I would have to endure the slow and arduous process of removing our glued together hands, that would be worse torture than I have ever seen.”

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, looking to him. “Where the hell did you learn the word arduous?”

“I have a basic level of education, (Y/N). I’m so glad that my word choice can shock you that much, however.”

(Y/N) groaned, “do you always have to talk like you’re addressing a college professor, Mitch? You can talk to me like a normal person.”

“I’m not your friend though, (Y/N). I am your protector. I talk to my /friends/ like I would talk to a ‘normal person’. I talk to people I’m being forced to protect because my boss is some sadistic prick who is out for my head like I’m talking to a college professor. Sorry.”

(Y/N) shrugged, “I think we should be friends, Mitch. You have touched my tit now. Twice.”

“Don’t call your breasts tits, please, (Y/N).”

“Why?”

“I asked you nicely.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “fine. You have touched my bossooms twice now, Mitch. I feel it would be nice if I could consider us friends. Even more so because you’re sworn to protect me. And I feel like you’re the type to want to protect friends.”

“If I agree to us being friends, will you drop the subject?”

“Will you talk to me like I am not a professor?”

“Sure.” “Then yes,” (Y/N) said with a smile on her face.

Mitch watched her find a bra, the conversation involving her bosom and his dialect seemingly forgotten. “I’ve noticed something about you, (Y/N).” Mitch started, following her towards another section of the store. “You say things to make me uncomfortable a lot. Like talking about your chest, and you’re kind of crass.”

“Yeah? I’ve been with you three days, Mitch. You’re slow on the uptake.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Mitch rolled his eyes. “I’ve noticed you do this because you are in no way as confident as you’re trying to convince me you are. It’s apparent, through everything you’ve done and said, that you don’t feel any confidence in yourself right now. Which, is understandable. You were abducted and restrained and held for however long. I wouldn’t have any confidence in myself if I were you either.”

“Gee! When did you get your psychologist patch in the boy scouts, Mitch?” (Y/N) wondered, looking through some of the shirts on the rack she had stopped at, her hand still firmly in Mitch’s.

Mitch shook his head when she stopped on a mustard yellow shirt, and she kept searching. “See. You did it again, just now. You use your words to hide behind, (Y/N). You think if you sound snarky enough, or crass enough, or hell. Even maybe mean enough, I’ll buy this act you’re peddling.”

(Y/N)’s heart began speeding up. Her cheeks feeling warmer, but her face unwavering. /He could not possibly know your secret/, she reminded herself.

Mitch continued, “you’re scared. And you don’t want me to know that.” Mitch sighed, using her hand to force her to turn and face him. “You don’t have to be scared anymore, (Y/N). Like I think I’ve said before. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

(Y/N) gave him a genuine smile, “thank you Mitch.”

He nodded, not bothering to return her smile. “I really do want you to hurry up though.” Mitch urged, watching her continue to peruse the shirt selection.

“Fine. I’ll try to hurry.” (Y/N) promised, beginning to look faster through the clothes. “You know. If I had two hands, this process would be a lot easier for me.” (Y/N) promised, indicating she wanted her hand free of Mitch’s with a slight tug away from him.

“You can have your hand,” Mitch said, releasing her fingers from his. “But if you try to run, so help me God, I will systematically break every bone in your right leg starting at the hip and working all of the way down to the last bone in your foot.”

(Y/N) stared at him with wide eyes, “Jesus. Calm down, Mitch. I’m not going to run. Why only one leg, though? Why not both?” (Y/N) wondered as she shook her head, turning back to face the shirts. She began plucking a few off of the rack, holding them out to Mitch.

“Bones are hard to break, (Y/N). That’s why they’re called bones. Not to mention, only breaking one leg would be a larger inconvenience to you than both. If you had both broken, you could use a wheelchair. With only one, you’d be given crutches. It would be a torture that lasted.” He took another shirt she offered him. “Am I your servant?” Mitch inquired, draping the shirts over his arm.

(Y/N) nodded, “sure. Now don’t drop them, now. I don’t want them getting dirty,” she teased.

(Y/N) watched Mitch unlock the door to the hotel room, her hand tired from having to hold the bags for so long. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You know I can only use my good arm to hold the bags, Mitch. I feel like my arm is going to fall out.”

“How does an arm fall out, (Y/N)?” Mitch wondered, holding the door open for her to walk into the hotel room.

“Off, Mitch. I meant off. God, you give me a migraine.”

“I’m happy to hear it.” Mitch responded while locking the door behind the two of them, tapping on his cell phone. “You should go shower.”

“You should change the bandage on my shoulder.” (Y/N) replied, dropping the bag of her clothes to the floor, wriggling her toes in the warm white hotel slippers she had had to adorn for the shopping trip. “And thank you for getting me clothes.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mitch walked past her into the bedroom, finding the first aid kit he’d used prior to stich her shoulder injury. “Come in here,” Mitch called, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. (Y/N) walked in and sat down next to Mitch, taking his jacket off of her shoulders, tossing it to his duffle bag at the foot of the bed. She then removed the shirt she wore, showing off the black bra she had purchased earlier at the store with Mitch. “Thanks for bein’ my nurse.”

Mitch shrugged, “I have quite literally no other choice.” “You’re welcome, (Y/N).” She said in a deep voice, mocking his. Mitch rolled his eyes at her, carefully removing the gauze from her shoulder, setting it down on the bed to be discarded later. “It’s healing.” Mitch acknowledged, leaning forward to see her wound up close. It was less inflamed than it had been previously, the edges looking less red.

(Y/N) nodded, “that’s what things tend to do. I’m glad my body is doing it’s only job. Healing like it is supposed to.”

Mitch took a cotton swab, dipping it into the bottle of hydrogen peroxide that he’d retrieved from the first aid kit. Carefully, and trying to avoid hurting her, he used the cotton swab to clean around the wound, ignoring her hiss of pain when he prodded the wound too hard. “You’re alright.” He said in his best soothing tone, trying to clean her wound quicker than before.

“Hold this here, please,” Mitch placed a swatch of gauze over her shoulder wound, waiting for her to hold it in place before tearing a few pieces of tape off of the roll. “Thank you.” He placed a piece of tape on each of the four sides of the gauze, smoothing it down gently with his first two fingers. “There. All gauzed up.”

(Y/N) smiled, “thank you. I’m gonna get dressed now, give you your clothes back finally.” She stood from the bed and shimmied out of the sweats she had borrowed from Mitch, folding them.

“(Y/N),” Mitch sighed, breathing heavily. “You’re uh,” he shook his head, lowering his eyes to his knees. “Do you have any idea what you’re wearing, or, rather what you aren’t wearing?”

“I’m getting dressed now, Mitch!” (Y/N) whined, leaving the bedroom to collect the bags of her clothes from the living room. She brought the bags into the bedroom, setting them down on the bed.

“(Y/N). You’re not wearing underwear.” Mitch pointed out, standing from the bed. “It’d be wonderful if you put some on.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and she dug frantically in the bags on the bed trying to find a pair of underwear to pull on. Once she did she tugged them on, breathing a sigh of relief. “Okay, okay. I’m wearing underwear now. You’re safe to look.”

“Are you wearing clothes yet?”

(Y/N) shook her head, “no?”

“Then I’ll be in the living room.”

(Y/N) watched Mitch walk out, her hands on her hips and her lip in a pout. “Fine, then. Go hide your boner in the other room.” (Y/N) huffed, turning her attention back to the bags to find clothes.

“Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you could /ever/ give me a boner, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) laughed, “don’t flatter yourself into thinking I care.”

~

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[hour13]

Fishbowl

Fishbowl

By Tim Carroll

I

           “Wanna know a secret?”  Persephone asked in a voice that was too loud for anyone but her to call it whispering.

           Margaret shrugged.  She felt that Persephone’s secrets were invariably either things that everyone already knew or things that she had just made up to feel special.  She looked over to see that Persephone was still staring at her expectantly.  

           “Fine,” Margaret whispered back, using actual whispers.  

           “Last night my grandma told me that the sky wasn’t always cracked.”

           Margaret looked up at the jagged web of fractures that stretched across the western plate-glass horizon of Dome 58.  Margaret shook her head, “Your grandma doesn’t know your name half the time.  I think she might have—”

           “No!” Persephone squealed, before remembering she was supposed to be whispering. “She said that one day a long time ago there was a loud bang.  She said that when she first saw the cracks they looked like a spider web and she was scared that there would be a giant spider who lived there and wanted to eat her!”

           Margaret shrugged, but Persephone continued in her non-whispery whisper, “She said everyone was scared, but then they weren’t allowed to talk about it.  The people at her school said that it was all normal and they whacked kids for discussing it.  And eventually everyone forgot that it wasn’t always there.”

           Margaret smiled at Persephone.  She had stopped scowling at her a long time ago-- it was too likely to make her cry. “That’s quite a story Pers.” Margaret replied causing Persephone to beam, “Now come on, we’re late to pick up our rations.”  

II

           It seemed like every aspect of the office of the director, from the old world paintings that covered the walls to the tapestry behind the desk, had been designed to awe visitors into a state of submission.  Simply walking through the door, Surveyor Peter Card felt like he had left behind the administrative offices of Dome 58’s town hall and stepped into another world.  A world that was run by the man sitting behind the desk, casually thumbing through an old world book – Director Edward Thornton.

           Peter approached the desk slowly, taking the time to admire the room’s centerpiece: A man-sized scale replica of Dome 58.  

           Peter figured that several years’ worth of art budget had gone into making the model.  Every detail had been perfectly attended to: tiny mothers walking to the birthing center, tiny children marching in double file lines behind the schools, and even a gaggle of people gathered outside the ration stations.  Somehow, the sculptors had even chiseled a perfect replica of the jagged crack across the western sky.

           Peter felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked at the crack.  If it were only a few millimeters deeper.

           Director Thornton flashed a grin at Peter as he approached, not breaking eye contact, the director grabbed the book off his desk and put it away on a small mahogany bookshelf.   Peter had never seen so many paper books outside of a museum or a picture of the old world.  Then the director got out of his chair and walked over to the surveyor.

            “Pete, how’re you doing?” he chuckled, clapping Peter on the back, “Take a seat.”

           Peter tried not to flinch.  He wondered if Director Thornton was this liberal with back pats and nicknames to everyone he called into his office.  He must be. Or maybe Peter truly was as special as Director Thornton claimed.  

           “Sir,” Peter began, as he pulled out the seat in front of the desk “Have you—”

           “Slow down,” Thornton smiled, “Would you like a drink first?  Some water?  Tea?”

           Peter gulped, “No, sir.  Thank you, sir.  If it’s all the same to you--”

           “Enough with this ‘sir,’” Director Thornton interrupted, as he sat down on the imposing chair behind the desk, “I get enough of sir.  Call me Ed.”

           Peter swallowed again. “Okay… Ed.” Peter paused and, sensing no impending interruption, continued, “Have you had the time to review my report?”

           The director tapped the black top of his desk, revealing it to be one massive touchscreen.  Almost instantly, every chart, figure, and equation detailed in Peter’s 30-odd page report appeared on the surface.  “Very impressive work, Pete.” Thornton mused, “I knew you were the right man for the job. That said, are you positive of your conclusions?”

           Peter nodded. “I would bet my life on them.  The cracks are not as stable as they appear and are growing at a rate of roughly 2 centimeters a year.  You told me that decontamination was causing the Earth’s atmosphere to rise in temperature. If this is true, and assuming that the temperature will continue to increase at a constant rate, additional thermal stress will be placed upon the dome, causing the rate of fracture to increase exponentially.   There’s too many unknowns for an exact prediction, especially since perfect measurement of the conditions outside the dome is impossible, but you’re looking at a 60% chance that the dome will be breached in the next forty years.”

           Director Thornton nodded, his smile drifting away, “Your report also says that there is roughly a twelve percent chance of no breach occurring in the next hundred years.”

           “Yes, but considering the low probability of that scenario, I think we would be far safer ignoring it.  I was hoping we could use this meeting to discuss exactly how repair would be implemented.  I would be more than happy assisting whatever team you choose for the job.  Seeing as the rate of fracture is unpredictable, I think we should try and start as soon as possible.”

           “Let me stop you there, Pete.” Director Thornton said, as he jabbed his finger at the section labeled Repair Costs.   “Pete, don’t take this the wrong way.  I consider you a friend, and you’re obviously the best engineer we have here, but it’s clear you’re not a budgeter.  And that’s not your fault.”

           “Sir…, I mean, Ed.  I don’t understand.  This is the dome we’re talking about, I don’t think we can take half measures. ”

           “Pete, looking at your report you seem to suggest we should use close to the entirety of Dome 59’s stock of formaldehyde in order to synthesize this Cy… Cyano…”  Director Thornton fumbled on the word,

           “Cyanoacryllate,” Pete finished, “It’s a type of glue. One that should be able to hold the dome together until decontamination is done.”

           “Pete, your heart, and much more importantly, your brain, are both in the right place here.  But I can’t authorize using the entirety of our formaldehyde supplies.  We need that for several other construction projects as well as producing a variety of medications.  You’re going to need to bring these costs down.”

           “Director, I have brought those costs down.  Frankly, our stores are insufficient for the type of more permanent repairs we should be doing.  The Cyanoacryllate we have will be sufficient for only repairs of the most major cracks. There’s still going to be a non-negligible rate of fracture.”  

           The Director shook his head, “I don’t know what to tell you Pete, you’re going to have to find a way to make it work.”

           Before Peter could protest, there was a loud knock on the door and a woman poked her head in. “Director Thornton, your next meeting is here.”

           “Give me a minute, Martha.”  Director Thornton shouted, before turning his gaze back to Peter. “Pete, I want to be on your side here, but I just can’t authorize that kind of expenditure, you’re going to have to make do with what we have. I have complete faith in you.”

III

           The doctors called it Constrained Habitat Induced Insanity.  Those who were less sensitive called it “Domentia.”

           Due to structural constraints, it had been much easier for the failing governments of Earth to construct hundreds of smaller domes before the Great Contamination instead of a few larger ones.   As a result, dome residents would spend their lives surrounded by the same 2,000 or so people in the same 10 or so mile radius.  For most domers, that was good enough.  But for some, the monotony was maddening.

           Allison’s birth mother had had Domentia.  Her mother had stayed up late at night, rocking herself to sleep, and staring at the horizon as though a creature might come out of the inky blackness and take her far away.  Even now, years after she’d been taken to the sanitarium, Allison could still hear the screaming rants in the back of her mind.  

           It was those same screaming rants that had driven Allison to pursue a job in the office of communications.  In this office, Allison knew she was never truly alone.  Everywhere else in Dome 58, interdome communication was strictly forbidden. But from her desk, Allison could send text-based messages to communicators in over a dozen other domes, brokering trade deals and discussing what life was like over a hundred miles of radioactive desert away.

           Allison smiled as she reflected on an interesting tidbit she had learned this morning. Apparently, the director of Dome 42 was trying to legalize bigamous family units so that he could take his mistress as a second wife.  Allison was typing a reply to her friend in Dome 42, when she heard a knock on the steel door behind her.  

           “Come in,” she shouted, without turning away from her desk. Reflected on her computer screen, Allison could see a blond-haired boyish face poking through the doorway.  

           “Hey, Ally,” the man said, “was wondering if you’d had your lunch yet.”  

           “Hey, John.” Allison replied, “I’m busy today.  Decided I would save my midday rations for a bigger dinner. You peacekeepers haven’t made that illegal have you?”

           “Not yet,” John replied, sauntering into the room, “But it could be argued that you working yourself to death is a seditious act against the office of communications, seeing as they’d never get on without you.”

           “Wow,” Allison whistled, “You give a peacekeeper a gun and suddenly he’ll look for any excuse to arrest someone.”  She gestured to the conspicuous holster on John’s hip, a sign that he’d graduated the academy with flying colors.  

           “Hey,” John chuckled, “First of all it’s not a gun…”

           “Really?” Allison asked, eyeing the pistol-shaped device, “It looks like a gun from here.”

           “It’s a dart launcher.” John clarified, “Bullets cause too much collateral damage and are too inconsistent.  A touch of one of these neurotoxin darts and a criminal will be dead in a few seconds.”

           “Doesn’t that strike you as a little risky?” Allison asked, “Isn’t a few seconds long enough for someone to pull a trigger of their own?”

           “That’s why they only give dart launchers to peacekeepers and not to every person who wants to steal some rations.  Speaking of which, you sure you don’t have time for a bite?”

           Allison shook her head, “Sorry, babe.  I’m going to be communicating with Dome 78 in a few minutes.  Their communicator is a friend actually, and I’m negotiating an important trade deal with him.”

           “Oh really, what are they sending to us?”  

           “Fertilizer,” Allison replied, turning back to her keyboard, “and if you want there to be a steady supply of vegetables in your rations for years to come, chances are you’re going to want me to have this conversation.”

           “Shame,” John said, as he walked out of the room, “Maybe next time.”  

           “Maybe,” Allison replied, as she flexed her fingers and got back to work.

IV

           Director Thornton whistled a soft tune to himself as he walked out of the town controller office for the evening.

           Without warning, he heard the sound of someone charging at him from behind. With a practiced casual air, he reached into his jacket and fingered the remote he kept inside it.  With a single button press, a team of security officers would be at his location within two minutes.  

           A second before he squeezed the remote, he turned to see that his would-be attacker was none other than Peter Card, the surveyor.  

           “Pete!” He said, forcing a smile as he moved his hand out of his jacket pocket, “What are you doing here so late?”

           “Sir…” Pete panted, “I had… an idea for the situation.”

           Director Thornton checked for anyone who might be listening before leaning in. “I think this is a very serious matter to discuss in a public place.”  

           Pete turned his head to the left and right before craning his head in for a whisper, “I think I know a solution, and I just need you to set me up with someone discreet from the office of communications.”

           Ed swallowed hard. “And why would you need that?”

           “We may have finite formaldehyde stores, but there certainly are other domes with their own.  Or possibly even the means of producing more.  I’m not sure what we have to trade but if you give me—”

           “Pete. Pete. Pete.” Director Thornton interrupted, “We’re supposed to be a self-sufficient community.  We can’t be asking other domes for their crucial supplies.”

           “Sir, we already participate in goods exchanges with at least a half-dozen other domes.  Certainly there are some luxuries we could offer them in exchange for formaldehyde. Even a 20% increase in our stores would vastly improve our long term structural integrity.”

           “Pete.” Director Thornton said sternly, “I told you to find a way to make it work.  You’re going to need to find a way to repair the breach with the stores you have.”

           “But sir…”

           “I’m sorry, Pete. I have to go.” The director said as he walked towards the waiting car, “If you wish to have another meeting, schedule it with my secretary.”

V

           Margaret stared at the half-written report on her desk and sighed.  It was supposed to be two written pages about why Dome 58 – with its job of maintaining the human population after the Great Contamination - was critically important, and what she as a citizen could do to help ensure that that mission was completed.  Personally, she’d always wished she had been born into one of the decontamination domes so she could actually help make the Earth livable again, but instead she was stuck here waiting for… nothing.  

           She heard the sound of footsteps behind her and turned to see her mom carrying a plate of beef-flavor rations over.  Her mom flashed a smile, “How’s the report coming, pearl?”

           “Not too well.”  Margaret replied, “I just think there’s only so much I can do to help Dome 58.”

           “Well there’s a lot you can do, hon.” Her mother replied, “Did you mention that you could volunteer as a birthmother,” she said gesturing to her growing belly.  

           Margaret nodded, though the idea of carrying a tiny baby inside her tummy always somewhat scared her. What if it bit on something important?  

           Margaret shook her head, and looked at her mother, “Hey, mom, can I ask you a weird question.”

           “What is it, baby?”

           Margaret turned to look at her mother, “Did the sky always have a big crack in it?”

           “Of course, pearl, why would you ask such a silly question?”

           “It’s just, Persephone said something today—”

           “That girl says all kinds of silly things.  Between you and me, I don’t think the teachers are doing a very good job with her.  Radical ideas like hers are what got Earth into this mess.”

           “Yeah…” Margaret said, “I thought so…”

           “Anyway, let me know if you need any more help.” Her mother smiled, “You’re a smart girl.  I’m sure you’ll figure everything out.”

VI

           John awoke to the sound of faint tapping beside him. His eyes peeked open, and he looked over at Allison, the curve of her back silhouetted by the light of the tablet on her lap.  

           “Ally,” he mumbled, as he moved closer to her.

           “Go back to sleep,” she said patting him on the head,

           “You first,” he teased.

           Allison smiled, and resumed scrolling on her tablet.  

           “If you have so much work you’re doing it past midnight, you can probably tell your superiors. You’d at least qualify for more rations.”

           “Not work,” she shook her head, “Not exactly.”

           John yawned loudly.  “And it can’t wait for the morning?”

           “I was talking to Claude from Dome 42 this morning.”

           “Your friend?” John asked.

           “I thought he was, but I referenced some of our old jokes today and he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.”

           “Sorry, babe.” John yawned, leaning back on his pillow. “I don’t think everyone has your memory.”  

           “I think it’s more than him being forgetful.  I’m looking back at our chat logs. Sometimes he seems like a completely different person.”

           “Babe, I… respect you… a lot.” John replied, “but maybe we can discuss this in the morning?”

           Allison sighed, set down her tablet, and rested her head on John’s chest. “Fine, we’ll talk in the morning.”

           John opened his mouth to reply, but he was asleep before any words came out.

VII

           Allison – Dome 58 Communicator has signed on. [12:58:14]

           Rebecca – Dome 46 Communicator has signed on.  [1:01:15]

Allison 58: This is Allison Dome 58. Do you read me? [1:02:36]

Rebecca 46: This is Rebecca Dome 46. I read you Allison. [1:02:52]

Allison 58: Security Check, what is your favorite color? [1:03:36]

Rebecca 46: What? [1:05:02]

Allison 58: We have had a problem with security recently.  [1:05:13]

Allison 58: Asking personal questions to confirm identity [1:05:23]

Allison 58: What is your favorite color? [1:05:58]

Allison 58: Did you not tell me this during our communication two weeks ago? [1:06:44]

Rebecca 46: Oh, right. [1:06:56]

Rebecca 46:  Rebecca Purple.  Like my name. [1:10:11]

Allison 58: Why the delay? [1:10:31]

Rebecca 46: Apologies. My boss walked in and had a question for me. [1:11:52]

Rebecca 46: She does not remember approving a security check. [1:12:08]

Rebecca 46:  So can we please talk about the trade? [1:12:33]

Allison 58: Sure, just one more question.  Where did you meet your husband? [1:12:59]

Allison 58:  Rebecca? [1:15:04]

Rebecca 46: My apologies. Boss came in again. There’s been an incident.  Will get back to you about my husband soon.  [1:17:03]

           Allison reclined back in her chair, massaging her temples.  Eight months ago, Rebecca from Dome 46 had adamantly insisted that she had not and would never marry.

VIII

           Director Thornton reclined back in his bathtub, scrolling through a briefing on his tablet. Bathtubs were technically a luxury that was only afforded to families of five or greater. But then again, if the position of Director didn’t have any benefits, Edward seriously doubted that anyone would apply for it.  

           Suddenly there was a pounding at the bathroom door. Director Thornton’s head jerked back, and nearly collided with the tile wall.  Steadying himself, he reached for his bathrobe.  

           “Martha?” He asked.  It wasn’t truly a question.  His secretary was the only other person with a key, and Thornton sincerely doubted anyone would be foolish enough to rob the home of the director. Clad in his royal blue bathrobe, Thornton opened the door.  Martha was standing on the other side, holding a pair of caffeine pills in one hand and a hanger with a suit dangling from it on the other.

           She looked at him sternly.  “We have a situation.”

 X

           Clad in black, Allison snuck through the bushes outside the office of the communicator.  She’d spent the past week-and-a-half staking out the building and watching the patterns of the guards’ movements.  Granted, the term ‘guards’ might have been a little generous.  Half of the night watch were asleep, and a third more spent the night either reading or playing games on their tablets.  

           Before she had left work six hours ago, Allison had left one of the first floor bathroom windows open a crack.  Resting her back against the wall, she wormed her fingers into that small crack and lifted the window to create an Allison-sized opening.  Once she was satisfied, she slid into that egress and closed the window behind her.

           Allison crept to the bathroom door and opened it a fraction of an inch. She saw the lone night watchman walking about twenty meters in front of her. Gritting her teeth, she closed the door and counted to thirty.  When she reopened it, he was gone.

           With each step she reminded herself not to sprint. Her heart was pounding and she could feel the sweat pooling under her black gloves.  This was her last chance to turn back. No, she told herself, I need to be here. I need to KNOW.  

           Allison made her way to the staircase and began descending until she reached the steel door to sub-level four.    She pulled out an ID card she had swiped from her boss’s desk when he hadn’t been looking and waved it in front of the scanner.  A half-second later, the red light turned to green.  With a beep and a mechanical hiss, the door swung open.  

           Allison crept inside and let out a long exhale, there wouldn’t be any guards in this room, so she could take her time.

           This room was supposed to be empty.  It was meant as an unloading dock for the ships that came in from other domes.    Dome 58 hadn’t received a trade in over a week, and yet the room was stacked floor to ceiling with crates.  Allison ran to a stack of crates labeled “Dome 75” and lifted the lid.  It was filled to the brim with medical supplies that she had negotiated a trade for on that very morning.  

           Allison dragged her gloved forefinger across the top box.  There was a thin layer of dust.  

           Allison spent the next half hour searching the room. All of the mechanisms for opening the docking bay to the outside air had been disabled and were covered in dust.  Even if there had been space for a trading ship to dock, there was no way for it to get in.

           Not that Dome 58 needed any supplies. All the trade goods she had negotiated for in the past month were already here.

           Had always been here, she realized.   All of the seemingly random things her supervisors had told her to ask for, hadn’t been random at all. They were planned out to create the illusion of trade with other domes.  Other domes that might not even exist.

           Allison shivered.  For the first time in her life, she felt alone.  

XI

           Margaret walked to the education center in a sleep-deprived daze.  She and her mother had been up two hours past curfew the previous night writing a list of ways she could benefit Dome 58 by stepping up as a birth mother.  Her mother had insisted that it wasn’t really lying; Margaret would feel that way eventually.  She just didn’t yet.

           Half-asleep, Margaret nearly walked directly into Persephone, stopping a second before she smashed into her classmate.  

           “Sorry,” Margaret mumbled, “I didn’t—” Margaret gasped. One of Persephone’s teeth was chipped, and there was a large cut under her right eye.

           “What happened to you?”

           “I…” Persephone stuttered. “I tripped.”

           “Are you okay? Should you even—”

           “I’m fine,” Persephone nearly shouted, “It’s just I need you to know something.”

           “What?”

           “All that stuff about the Dome yesterday…”

           Margaret nodded, “About how the sky wasn’t always cracked?”

           Persephone seemed to flinch at the words.  “I made it all up.” Persephone whispered, really whispered “It’s always been cracked.”  A tear rolled down her cheek. “Don’t tell anyone anything else. You might get in trouble.”

            “Sure, Pers.” Margaret nodded, as she rested a hand on her classmate’s back, “It’s fine. I never really believed you anyway.”

XII

           John sat on the bench in Pleasant Park and stared up at the dome.  The bench used to be his and Allison’s bench.  But John was beginning to doubt whether he and Allison were even a… well whatever they had been.  The two of them hadn’t shared a meal, much less spent a night together, in the past couple weeks.  

           John sighed and kicked a rations wrapper absentmindedly.  He’d been considering talking to her about filing for cohabitation, but now…  

           John crushed the empty paper cup in his hand and threw it at the nearby trashcan, missing the rim by nearly a foot. He considered getting up to pick up the trash when the radio on his hip sprang to life.

           “Attention all units!” The metallic voice squeaked, “This is a code 4.  Is anyone in Rim Sector 6!”  

           John pushed away thoughts of Allison and grabbed the receiver.   “This is Peacekeeper Mulligan, I’m in Pleasant Park. What’s the trouble?”

           “Roger Peacekeeper Mulligan.   An unknown figure has been spotted walking along the dome catwalks.” The voice barked, “Unclear what he is doing up there.  Investigate and report immediately.  This is a priority one objective.”

           “Copy.” John replied, as he pushed himself to his feet and began jogging to the cast-iron catwalks that butted up against the glass dome that surrounded the community.

           In theory, no one was supposed to go up there without passing a pair of guards, and the presence of a man on those catwalks represented a massive threat to the community.  In practice.  John was willing to bet several weeks’ worth of extra rations that a guard – equal parts bored and stupid – wanted to see the view during his coffee break and forgot to clear it with a supervisor.  

           Ten minutes later, John arrived at the catwalk access station.  John knocked twice on the steel door before electing to let himself in.  

           “Hello, my name is Peacekeeper Mullig---“ John stopped midsentence, and swore as he reached for his radio.

           “This is Peacekeeper Mulligan!” John barked into his radio, as he fumbled to check the two unconscious guards for a pulse,  “I’m at catwalk access station R,  both guards have sustained head injuries.  Both unconscious.  Requesting immediate medical support.  Requesting immediate backup!”

           For ten seconds that stretched into an eternity there was only silence.  

           “This is Peacekeeper Mulligan!” John repeated, “I am at catwalk access station R—“

           “We hear you Peacekeeper Mulligan!”  The voice on the other end of the line interrupted, “Backup and medical are on route!  Apprehend the figure on the catwalk.  Deadly force authorized.  Do you copy?”

           John swallowed a mouthful of air down his suddenly dry throat. “Deadly force authorized,” wasn’t a phrase he had ever actually expected to hear on the job.  Let alone directed at him.

           “Peacekeeper Mulligan.  Do you—“

           “I copy,” John replied as grabbed the dartgun from the holster on his waist and began climbing the uncomfortably titled steel stairs that led up to the side of the Dome.   After going up three stories, John saw a figure.   “Mystery man spotted.” John panted into his radio, “Engaging now.”

           “Roger, Peacekeeper Mulligan!”

           With the dartgun clutched in his sweat-slick hands, John approached the dark figure.  His boots clacked on the metal catwalk with each step, but the suspect didn’t seem to notice until John was only about a half a dozen meters away. The man appeared to be fiddling with a device that was affixed to the glass wall of the dome.  John was no expert, but it looked uncomfortably like an explosive.  

           “Suspect!” John shouted, “You are in violation of Dome 58 code.  Step away from the device and surrender yourself!”  

           The man turned and looked at John.  

           John gasped.  “Allison?”

           “John…” Allison replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you…”

           “What the hell are you doing, Ally.  This isn’t like you.  What is that machine.”

           “It’s not a machine, John.” Allison said, holding up a detonator, “It’s a bomb.”

           “Good lord, Ally.” John replied, “What the hell will this accomplish?”

           “There aren’t any other domes, John.”

           John tilted his head to the side, “What?”

           “The other domes, they’re all lies.  They don’t exist.  All the ‘clean-up domes’ we learned about in school were made up.”

           “Then why blow up this dome?” John shouted, “This one is real!”  John took a step forward.

           “Don’t come any closer,” Allison shouted, holding up the detonator. “Don’t you get it, John? Everything is a lie. There aren’t any heroes out there cleaning the earth.  All the sacrifices we make, all the rationing, all the forced families. It’s all for nothing!  There will never be a clean earth!  We are just living to die!”

           “Allison, please, come home!” John pleaded, “We can go home!”            “We’re not people, John…” Allison replied, tightening her grip, “We’re… guppies… guppies in a fishbowl!  Living for nothing!”

           “Allison…” John pleaded

           “I can’t live like this!” Allison sobbed, “I can’t live knowing that it’s all pointless!”

           “But I can, John replied, “Other people can.

           “They’ve…” Allison sobbed, “They’ve broken you. All of us. They’ve made us think it’s okay to live in submission.  They’ve played god with our lives.  We’re not even people John!  My mother was right!”

           “Your mother was nuts!” John shouted,

           “NO, John…” Allison said, suddenly quiet. “She was sane.  And now I am too…”

           “Allison, please!” John said, lifting his gun, “Don’t make me do this.”

           “I need to do this, John.” Allison sobbed, as she held up the detonator.

           “NO!” John screamed, as he squeezed down on the trigger.  A sharp hiss of air brushed against his hand as a trio of darts sped into Allison’s stomach.   Allison stumbled backward, her face twisting as the neurotoxin coursed through her system.

           And then, with a final breath, she pushed the button.  

XIII

           Even now, through the swelling and blood in his eyes, the office of the director still looked dazzling to Peter.  The two men, practically towers of muscle, standing beside him each held one of his arms in a stranglehold.  The two of them nodded reverentially as Director Thornton entered the room.    

           “Pete, Pete, Pete…” The director tsked, “I thought we were friends.”

           “Do you lie to the faces of all your friends?” Pete asked, spitting equal parts saliva and blood onto the carpet.

           “I do, in fact.”  Director Thornton responded, “It’s the price I pay for being director.”

           “Yeah, you sound real broken up about it.”

           “I have learned to cope,” Director Thornton responded as he poured himself a drink. “With the lies, the secrets.  And speaking of secrets.” The director took a long sip, “We let you in on a major secret when we told you the truth about the crack in the dome.  And now my men are telling me that you broke into the office of communications.  We trusted you, Pete.  And to abuse that trust…”

           “You didn’t trust me.”  Peter snapped, “You lied to me – to everyone – from birth.  You think telling me one truth makes up for that?”  Peter paused to catch his breath, “Was it even one truth? How did the dome really break?”

           Director Thornton sighed, “I supposed there’s no point in secrets, now.  Roughly seventy-five years ago, a terrorist named Allison Graham detonated a bomb while standing on the catwalks only a few meters away from the glass.  The dome held, obviously.  If it hadn’t, I doubt any of us would be here now.”

           “Why’d she do it?”

           “According to the officer at the scene, she’d leaned the truth about all the other domes that we had been in contact with.  The truth that I have been tasked with keeping from both you and the rest of the citizens of my dome.”

           “So, what is the truth?”  Peter asked, “Why aren’t they talking to us?’

           Director Thornton shook his head, “One hundred and forty years ago – roughly a quarter of a century after the great contamination - we actually were in contact with all the other domes.  And we truly did trade supplies with them.  However, for reasons unknown, the domes around us starting going dark, stopped sending supplies and communications.  Over the course of about two weeks, we lost contact with every other dome.”

           If the two men holding Peter’s arms were surprised by this information in any way, they didn’t show it.  Peter looked at their impassive faces, and then back to the director.  “What happened to the other domes?”  

           Director Thornton took another long sip of his brandy and shook his head. “We have no idea.  The domes went dark so suddenly that we didn’t have any time to do anything other than speculate. The last few domes we were in contact with didn’t seem to know any more than we did.”  

           “We have ships though.”  Peter responded, “Why didn’t we send them out to investigate?            “Why do you assume we didn’t?”  The director asked, “We sent out two ships.  One to Dome 75, one to Dome 46.  Those vessels never came back.  Seeing as are last few ships are irreplaceable assets, my predecessors decided to call off the search instead of risking more of them.  For the sake of preventing mass panic, we’ve kept this information from the general public.  However, the leaders of Dome 58 have spent the last century under the assumption that we are the single last surviving dome.”  

           Peter resisted the urge to vomit.  “But Dome 58’s not a decontamination dome.  We have none of the tools to purify the planet’s air or water.  That means…”

           “Yes,” Director Thornton responded, “If we truly are the last surviving Dome, then there is no one else who has the tools or knowledge necessary to restore the Earth to its previous state..”

           “But if that’s the case… if we’re all that’s left… then you need to fix the cracks”  Pete pleaded, “You need my plan.”  

           “You are correct, your plan for fixing the dome is absolutely necessary. More than you could have ever known.”  The director sighed and finished off his drink,  “However, you are not necessary.  Quite the opposite in fact.”  Director Thornton slid open a nearly invisible compartment in a bookshelf and withdrew a peacekeeper dartgun. “Thank you for your designs, Mr. Card. Rest assured, they will be put to good use.”  

           “Wait!” Peter shouted, as Thornton pulled the trigger. Peter continued to protest, his words slurring together as his body slumped to the ground like a ragdoll.  

           “Get him out of here,” Director Thornton told the two guards, as he returned to his desk.  

           The director waited until the two men were out of sight before pouring himself another tall drink.

 XIV

           Consciousness came back to John far too quickly.  One second he was lying on the catwalk, watching the spider web of cracks spread out over him. The next second, he was… well certainly not on the catwalk. He was in a bed, staring up at a featureless white tile ceiling.

           As his mind replayed the memories of the explosion- as if on cue – the aches spread down his body. With a grunt of exertion, John propped himself up on the bed and began to look around. It wasn’t heaven. Either that or Heaven looked exactly like the inside of Dome 58’s hospital.  And the man in the corner looked a lot like Director Sanders.

           “Director…” John grunted?

           “You can call me Jim if you want.”  The Director said, as he poured a glass of water from a plastic pitcher and handed it to John “Take this, the doctors said to get water in your as soon as you were awake.”

           “Thanks…” John panted, “Jim…”

           The Director – Jim – pulled up a chair and sat down next to John. “Peacekeeper Mulligan – may I call you John?”

           John nodded.

           “The doctors also told me that I should get them as soon as you were awake.  But unfortunately there’s a conversation that truly cannot wait.  Do you understand?”

           John nodded again, as he downed the glass of water. Jim reached for the pitcher, but John shook his head. “I’m good…” he muttered.

           “You’re far more than good, John.”  The director replied, “If the accounts I’ve heard are to be believed, you are truly extraordinary.”  

           “Is the dome…?” John began

           “The glass barrier is fine.” The director answered, “There’s a few more cracks in it than there used to be.  But it’s still holding.”

           John let out a sigh of relief. “And… Allison?” John asked, but in his gut he already knew the answer.

           Jim shook his head. “I’m sorry, John.  She… she passed in the explosion.  You have my condolences, I understand the two of you were somewhat close.  

           “We…” John began, “I guess we were...  I don’t know…”

           The director raised his hand.  “I won’t pry if you don’t want me to.  I know it’s always a shock to friends and family when these things happen.  However, there is something we do need to discuss about it.”

           “Don’t worry,” John said, lying back down, “You’ll have your full incident report once I’m out of this bed.”  

           “Actually, John, there’s no need for that.”

           With a groan, John pushed himself into an upright position. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

           “Peacekeepers have recovered a detailed suicide note from Allison’s residence, which I now have in my custody. The things Allison wrote down…” Jim shook his head, “There would be pandemonium if people knew.”    

           John lifted his eyebrows. “Knew what?”

            The director titled his head. “I don’t understand…”

           “What things don’t you want the people to know?” John asked, “Do you not want them to know that a woman with a bomb nearly shattered the dome? Or do you not want them to know that that woman believed… believed there weren’t any other domes.”

           “Peacekeeper Mulligan,” The director began, “You have an exemplary record of service. And taking a wound in the line of duty is something that we notice at the office of the director.  It’s the type of thing that lets us know who we can trust.  Who we can put on the fast track for promotion. Do you understand my meaning?”

           John looked at the director as though through a haze, “Just tell me two things. “

           “I’ll do my best.”

           “No, don’t do your best.” John replied, “Just tell me the truth.”  John looked the director in the eyes. “Was my girlfriend – was Allison – ever truly in contact with any other domes?”

           The director shook his head. “No, she only talked to actors.  People within the circle of trust.”

           John nodded. “The second thing.  If I don’t cooperate, are you going to kill me?”

           The director sighed. “You must understand, John, there are realities here that can’t be ignored.  You’ve seen yourself what this knowledge can do to people.  To good people, like Ms Graham.  It’s not pleasant, but it’s what we have to do.  You do understand, don’t you, John.”  

           John closed his eyes and lay back down against the pillow, “I understand perfectly.”

           The director smiled, “I’m glad, John.”

           “So… Jim,” John said, not bothering to open his eyes, “Could you do me a favor?”  

           “Certainly, John.” The director replied, “What do you need?”

           “Can you make it quick?”

           “Make what qui… oh… I understand.”  Director Sanders rose from the chair and withdrew a dartgun from the inner pocket of his suit.  “Thank you for your service, Peacekeeper Mulligan.”

           It was quick.    

XV

           It was 3:00, and the shouts of the hordes of children leaving the education centers reverberated against the glass windows of Director Thornton’s office.  Ed sighed and stared at the mountain of paperwork on his desk.  If he hunkered down, he estimated he would be able to get it done before 7:00.  The director reached for the next reacquisition form and sighed.  Finishing the last of his brandy, the director pushed himself away from his desk and headed to the door.  

           Martha eyed him as he was leaving, “Taking an early night?” she asked.

           “Just something I need to see.”  The Director responded, as he headed out onto the streets of Dome 58.  

           Ed’s driver, a redheaded woman in her thirties, stood up as he approached, but Ed gestured to signal that her services wouldn’t be needed.  “I need a walk anyway,” he muttered, not sure if she could hear. She had already returned to playing a card game on her tablet.

           It was a two mile walk to Pleasant Park, but Director Thornton was out of breath when he arrived.  Perhaps he truly did need the exercise.  Director Thornton walked to his favorite bench, the one that had the letters “AG & JM” etched into the side inside of a heart.  Director Thornton sat down on the bench and stared up at the crack in the dome.  From this vantage point it was so large it nearly dominated the crimson sky.  

           Before he even knew what he was doing, the director grabbed his tablet and opened up Surveyor Card’s – Pete’s – project.  He scrolled down to the conclusion section. The tables and graphs were crystal clear, so easy even a pencil pusher like him could understand them.

           With the entirety of the available stores of cyanoacrylate, used in exactly the right places, they could reduce the chance of the dome breaking in the next hundred years to just thirty-two percent.

           The director sighed.  Thirty-two percent.  

           It would have to do.  

Author’s Notes

·        It’s good to be back.  Life has made writing a bit more difficult this year, but I’m still very pleased with how this story turned out.

·        I believe this is my first story to completely unambiguously pass the Bechdel Test.  

·        The fact that Margaret’s mother calls her pearl is a pun.  Margaret is Greek for “pearl.”

·        This story was inspired by the idea of a tryptich.  Which is usually three stories or poems centered around one topic.  I planned to do a triple tryptich, nine chapters, alternating between the three plotlines. Once it became clear that the story was too big for that, I turned it into the fifteen chapter mess that it is now.  Margaret and Persephone’s arc however still works as a tryptich.

·        Ed Thornton was an interesting character, one who I wish I could have done more with.  It’s not a coincidence that he and his predecessor, Jim Sanders, both use pretty much the same manipulation tactics on John and Peter.  I’d imagine that each director has been groomed by the one before into being a master manipulator who doesn’t question the status quo.

·        I don’t think Ed’s a sympathetic character, but I do sympathize with him to an extent.  Not many of the options he’s presented with are good ones. I don’t believe he was lying to Peter during their final confrontation and I do think he saw the killing as absolutely necessary. I think lying and manipulation are things that have become so normalized to him that he legitimately doesn’t see another way out.

[surly01]

This Week in Collapse

If like us, you keep track of the disparate stories that track the decline of a collapsing civilization, the big news this week was the Evergreen container ship Ever Given stuck in the Suez Canal. Like an oversized lozenge stuck in the world’s throat, the ship got stuck in a narrow part of the Suez where about 30% of the world’s ocean container volume transits.

Beached by a raging sand storm and then jammed in to one of the world’s most important shipping choke points, at 1,300 feet long the Ever Given is slightly larger than the Empire State Building. And every bit as seaworthy at the moment.

Speaking of the sandstorm, the conspiracy types have had a field day, speculating that since the influence on the global trade and economy is so huge, it must be a deliberate act, amirite? Cui bono? Some see cover for an attempt to control the narrative around the big world-wide economic collapse that is just around d the corner. Some comment ranges along the lines of “my gut tells me it's not just an accident,” a position marginally more responsible than speculating that Israeli commandos had beached the stricken ship to prevent the transit of 50,000 children for Hillary Clinton’s sex-trafficking operations. My gut tells me to listen to reports from people who work in shipping, such as tug captains, who say that tankers with 100k+ GRT (Gross register tonnage, the total internal volume of cargo vessels) shouldn't sail under high winds because they can't adjust course quickly enough.

Efforts to refloat the Ever Given have so far fallen short; an array of heavy construction equipment and mammoth tugboats have been far less successful at dislodging the ship’s bow from the sand of the canal as at demonstrating the difficult-to-imagine size of the boat in photos.

Ships are already rerouting around Africa to avoid the delays, but every hour the Ever Given remains lodged in the canal puts stress on a global supply chain already taking water from the pandemic, which in turn puts upward price pressure on all manner of goods.

Perhaps you noticed a shortage of toilet paper, or baking flour, or antiseptic wipes to go with your empty supermarket shelves about a year ago at the beginning of the pandemic. A good summary explanation of the brittleness of our supply chain that is simple and straightforward, see Amanda Mull’s article, Why Everything Is Sold Out.

As is the case with America’s larger pandemic failures, the consumer system had begun to rot long before the coronavirus made its brittleness obvious. American corporations have spent decades squeezing every last dollar out of the market, largely at the expense of its flexibility and resilience. The worst of it started 30 years ago, [Steve Rowen, a managing partner at the retail-analytics firm Retail Systems Research] said, when Walmart crushed local competition across the country and popularized the “just in time” inventory model. Costs are kept low by keeping very little on hand, and shelves are restocked with freshly delivered products; there are no paper towels or sweatpants waiting to be called into duty. In a crisis, this means that store shelves empty quickly. People panic and start hoarding or hunting for things online, depleting those supplies as well. “Efficiency is great if there’s no interruption of any sort and if things go exactly as planned,” Rowen said. “Unfortunately, at least for the foreseeable future, there is really no ‘according to plan.’” It’s not just a pandemic that can cause this kind of logistical chaos. Hurricanes, wildfires, and major civil unrest can all tank the best-laid plans of executives trying to wring profit out of a business through “efficiency.” The United States is currently undergoing all four crises at once.

Not to mention a giant container ship Tokyo-drifting into a sandbar. We’ll see what happens, but although gambling is perhaps the only vice I’ve missed in this life, I’d be willing to bet there are higher prices in our future.

The Rest of the Week: Climate Change Doesn’t Care Whether You Believe in it or Not

Tiny Town, Big Decision: What Are We Willing to Pay to Fight the Rising Sea?

Avon, NC, a small town on North Carolina’s Outer Banks, is wrestling with the immediate effects of global warming and sea level rise: the encroaching seas. And residents there have opened up a large can of, “somebody ought to do something.” But in the spirit of NIMBYs everywhere, the only thing they can agree on is that someone else ought to pay for it.

Bobby Outten, a county manager in the Outer Banks, delivered two pieces of bad news at a recent public meeting. Avon, a town with a few hundred full-time residents, desperately needed at least $11 million to stop its main road from washing away. And to help pay for it, Dare County wanted to increase Avon’s property taxes, in some cases by almost 50 percent.

Homeowners mostly agreed on the urgency of the first part. They were considerably less keen on the second.

People gave Mr. Outten their own ideas about who should pay to protect their town: the federal government. The state government. The rest of the county. Tourists. People who rent to tourists. The view for many seemed to be, anyone but them.

The fact is that Avon is located on a narrow sandbar that is part an island chain, in a relentlessly rising Atlantic. As seas continue to rise and storms intensify, the question will echo along the American coastline from Norfolk to Miami. What price can be put on saving a town, a neighborhood, a home, and who pays? One suspects that an elimination of subsidized flood insurance will force the issue.

Kuwait Records Hottest March Temperature Ever Amid Dust Storms and Locusts

What, no frogs?

Nearly half the U.S. is in drought and conditions are expected to grow worse, NOAA says

Nearly half of the continental U.S. is in a moderate to exceptional drought, government forecasters said Thursday, and conditions are expected to grow more severe and persistent over the next three months.It’s the most significant spring drought to grip the country since 2013 and will impact roughly 74 million people, per NOAA.

The End of Industrial Society

Post-industrial society is neither the next vaunted stage of human progress, nor the prelude to a catastrophic reversion to pre-industrial ways of life. Our social technologies have not been upgraded in the wake of the Industrial Revolution’s conclusion; they have been exhausted before we even finished industrializing.

Two mass shootings within a week: America's gruesome "bingo card" total keeps growing

And a third in Virginia Beach Saturday AM. We are clearly getting back to what passes for “normal,” in which we become numb to mass slaughter.

So it’s been a week of supply chain disruption, droughts, sandstorms, rising seas, and mass shootings. Another week of downward spin as the American Empire unwinds.

[celiarollins]

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Home Insurance Made Easy is a brand of Fraternal Benefits of Columbus, Ohio committed to our mission. We love families and enjoy working with our families and friends to build strong homes. Fraternal benefits of Columbus make good on their homeowners that have an auto insurance company that offers them. Fraternal organizations of Columbus, Ohio are an excellent fit for families and individuals – families can also make a decision where the insurance carrier would be able to provide protection. A typical auto insurance policy can insure the following: A personal umbrella policy would suitably ensure that your family will be protected in case of an incident with a vehicle belonging to you. One example may be if your home was damaged by frost from a storm, and the landlord was sued as an innocent party. A personal umbrella policy would include coverage against claims made by a third party against an insurance company. Fraternal Insurance Services Insurance Company offers a broad range of insurance policies to all of our clients. Fraternal provides the necessary coverage to meet the many conditions of an insurance policy.

Get FREE Home Insurance Quotes

Get FREE Home Insurance Quotes! Call today and a licensed representative will help you find the perfect policy to protect your home and personal belongings. When applying for insurance you’ll need to determine if you want a standard policy, or a non-standard policy or a hybrid policy. Standard auto insurance is a big business. You don’t have a lot of money and you may only have a few claims. That’s why the best and cheapest car insurance policy is one that fits your needs. This is the reason why buying the same auto insurance and car insurance company can save you money and time. The best and cheapest car insurance company for you depends on your individual needs. The company that will provide you the best policy for the right price will pay claims after each accident rather than losing your rights of premium as a covered driver on your term. Car insurance is essential for many drivers because the risk of loss is much higher. If your vehicle or car needs repairs,.

Auto Insurance

Auto Insurance quotes on the internet. That said, we can still buy and we have cheap car insurance. So let’s see how they compare. Average Annual Premiums Compare Car Insurance Rates Off-Combined (northern county) $42.67 $101.67 $118.73 $400 $438 $4,926 $1,699 $330 $462 $4,874 $308 $418 $4,878 $260 $438 $4,743 $240 $474 $7,052 $244 $474 $9,951 $218 $474 $8,984 $228 $473 $9,054 $200 $478 $11,746 .

Get Home Insurance Quotes Now

Get Home Insurance Quotes Now And Get Your Rates Quoted On CheapAutoInsuranceQuote.com. You can be a little tricky to find, because you might not be able to compare rates from companies who sell auto insurance. But your current car insurance company might be able to be the best at a price you can reasonably afford, at which time, you could get a quote for a car insurance policy that has coverage options that are comparable. A common reason for buying auto insurance is to protect other people or people who are financially responsible. It’s a good idea to store additional valuables away from home – even if they’re not in your car. Auto Insurance Isn’t Required in Illinois If you are involved in an accident, you might only have coverage if there are injuries. If damage does occur to your car or you do not have car insurance, your claim against your personal auto insurance will be expensive, usually from two to five times the amount of the damage to the car you caused.

Life Insurance

Life Insurance, an independent agency, is committed to preserving the customer’s peace of mind through consistently effective and comprehensive insurance coverage with a quality customer experience. With its headquarters in Nashville, TN, W. W. Bankers Insurance offers insurance products underwritten by Metro Market Group, Nashville, TN. Metro Market Group, LLC is a subsidiary of Metro Market Group, LLC. “I m the Insurance Broker” is a licensed broker employee of W. Bankers Insurance. Our services are focused on you. We value what you buy and we want to hear from you, which brings us a long line of questions. The best thing you can do with this insurance is get the best prices you can by doing some research to get quotes in advance of moving on to the next term. Your home insurance company (or agents) have to know about your home from the start! They may also use our information to make decisions for itself. If we.

Top Rated Insurance Companies for Pitbulls

Top Rated Insurance Companies for Pitbulls It only took 15 years and a series of dog bites and the claims of dogs that were thrown by dogs has pushed those results back into the normal! Some dog owners have had to turn to the new breed, however, the dogs that are under the control of their owners are often not. It is often just a matter of time to have the dog that is on the road that gets injured, the dog that is being abused by a human, and the person that is being abused from other humans. The owners of the dog that is being injured have to report it to the insurance companies and have them look at the accident before issuing an answer. They will make a settlement payment, which, as mentioned above, is a total loss, meaning it will not pay out any one dollar amount. You can be sued at some point, like on an insurance policy if you hurt someone with a dog or have a dog bite. But the owners of a dog that is injured may not have an obligation.

The Best Alternative to Insurance - Cooperative Pet Health Plan by Eusoh

The Best Alternative to Insurance - Cooperative Pet Health Plan by Eusoham, et al. “Pet health plans are the best health plan in Europe” to take care of the pet health care for all the members while covering the costs of the pet from the day. We provide all discounts from different members to give you quality benefits while providing a range of discounts in particular for your business is also not only to sell and manage pets or if you take all services from a team and offer services to them that we provide.” The Best Alternative to Insurance - Mutual Insurance Company of the Netherlands by Weebbins, et al. “Our business is to provide Pet health Care at our own expense if our pet does not have the usual health status. The best Pet Health Care for every pet is the best way to save the amount of money you could have to spend on a lifetime of health insurance. We have to offer your best Pet health care, especially to help save the money that you pay with the extra protection for the pet.

Other Insurance

Other Insurance Agency Enter your zip code below to view companies that have cheap auto insurance rates.  Secured with SHA-256 Encryption When you’re in a car accident, you have a lot of personal and financial worries. Accidents can get pretty tiresome when accidents happen to you. Accidents can wreak financial havoc on you, and you need to be prepared for it. You can protect yourself by hiring a rental car company, but you can’t do your part to help out by carrying the minimum auto insurance required by Texas law. It’s a good idea to buy more auto insurance in the interim. By law, you’ll have to have bodily injury liability insurance, which covers others’ property damage. And under Texas law, you’ll have personal injury protection, which protects you if your own car is damaged in a covered accident. But the regulations for liability insurance vary by state. Some states,.

Health Insurance

Health Insurance Assistance I am a member of the Family and Personal Information Institute, which is an advocacy organization for consumers and professionals. The Institute collaborates with a range of insurance companies to provide coverage for a wide range of unique clients in terms of coverage, premiums and claims. Please visit directly to learn more about our services, and our commitment to provide the highest level of professional care and service. My personal insurance has been in my family for about 20 years. I am no exception. As a result of living in one of the country s leading insurance markets, I often find the market as competitive as a local business. My job is managing my product offerings, keeping my insurance and company on the same footing as if I were managing my own business. I find that a good company I am able to focus on provides the customer service I need. They are highly-professional and have the unique skills needed to lead a great operation. I enjoy the interaction and support I receive from management on a daily basis,.

Pit Bull Insurance Reviews

Pit Bull Insurance Reviews.com. As one of the top insurers in the nation, its ratings and reviews are generally divided by a number of factors. Here are some things it does best. It is backed by a strong and stable (in-and out-of-the-ordinary) financial strength rating from A.M. Best, though it’s only available to members of J.D. Power’s auto insurance suite. In addition to its standard homeowners policy, it also sells flood and earthquake coverage as add-ons. Most of its standard homeowners policies are also affordable, depending on your specific needs. When it comes to homeowners insurance, Allstate often provides the cheapest rates for those who have mortgages and/or who have purchased their own coverage for a home. If you are a homeowner, Allstate is probably one of the best companies. In fact, Allstate is rated as one of the best insurance companies to have, especially in areas where a shortage of homeowners are likely to be present.