#i went ahead and submitted a message to the white house

[vergess]

@autismserenity​ said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here   

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 4

Hello everyone,

I submitted this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy.

This chapter is less action heavy, but just as important. Thanks for hanging in there and reading!

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 3812

Part Four: The Aftermath

           The weathered professor seemed very confused but stood her ground and insisted, “Miss King, take the summer off.”

           “I just need a week, that’s all—and then I’ll get the methodology section to you—Dr. Watts I just need another week, please!” Antha pushed back. Dr. Watts set her glasses on her desk and then waved her over to a deep-tufted-leather sofa.

           “Antha,” her voice lowered, “I’ve known you for what—five years? You don’t become a valedictorian because you don’t like to write. You have been moody these past few weeks, you barely passed the final exam, and you’ve pushed back the thesis methodology three times. Last class, you were so distracted I would have rather you skipped. I know you, talk to me, what’s going on?”

           “My sister and I had a Friday night out with some friends and something happened.” Antha murmured, staring down at her feet.

           “Friday nights aren’t what they used be; did you hear about the fight that broke out at that dive bar off of—oh, what’s it called? You know the place—well, it was all over the news,” she paused gravely, “you weren’t there were you?”

           The twin nodded slowly. She felt overwhelmed in front of her advisor. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut before replying. “Tessa’s date got into a fight with an old flame, it was a whole thing. But after…” She couldn’t continue. The advisor took her hand gently.

           “Did someone hurt you?”

           Antha’s eyes welled and all she could do was stare. As if she said the words out loud, it would become more true than it already was. The doctor’s forehead wrinkled as her brows gathered together. Having lived through the revolutions of the sixties and the proceeding struggle for equality, Dr. Watts knew the dangers women faced. She didn’t need an answer; she just wanted to offer shelter to a young woman. She knew just from looking at her student that whatever happened, it was beyond words.

           “You’re taking the summer and fall semester off—or at the very least take the summer off and go to a student counselor; its free, it comes with your tuition, so please use it. If you need anything you know you and your sister can come to me.” She wrote down her personal number and one for the counselors’ office. Antha held the little shred of stationary. She promised she would do just that.

        Shortly after, she left her advisor’s office and floated through the campus green and then waited by the bus stop. Her feet told her she was going home, yet her attention was somewhere far away. What can I say to a counselor? Who would understand what we saw at Hollow House? Without realizing, she had retrieved something from her pocket; she stared dumfounded at the pewter-colored iris that gleamed back.

        Antha couldn’t get rid of it. But in a moment of frustration, she chucked the marble-like eye into a nearby drain. She returned to her spot and tried to focus on scheduling a counselor. Moving forward, that’s what I need, she figured.

        A familiar wheezing crawled up the street. The sluggishness of a muffler that had seen better days filled her ears as she dazed at the phone number-laden scrap paper.  “—Antha!” Someone yelled. To her surprise she peered up to see Doug hanging out of his rusty Buick, looking just as timid as ever. He seemed anxious, for what reason she didn’t know. “I’ve been calling your name. You’ve gone deaf ol’ girl—you want a ride?” He asked with forced humor in his voice. She watched him blankly as his expression fell. “You alright?”

        Antha thought about it and suddenly felt stupid. All of her gusto about moving forward had evaporated; she lamely shook her head like a weary child. She felt like a little girl in a world that was too big for her. It all just seemed too much.

        The July swelter didn’t let up even with the windows down. The two didn’t speak as they made their way to their favorite pizza joint. Thrilled to be out of the unairconditioned Buick’s steel embrace, they collapsed into the far back booth of the pizzeria. All the servers knew it was Doug and Antha’s spot; they habitually kept it clean and empty, knowing they would eventually roll in. They made it to the “golden hour”. The sacred three hours between the lunch and dinner rush. It was their favorite time.

        “Whatchas want?” The straggly blue-haired waitress chewed her bubblegum like a goat.

        “The usual—uh hold on—when did you eat last?” Doug asked. Antha shrugged and realized she didn’t know. She couldn’t even think that far back. “Can we get a double order of the usual? But make two of them to-go?” The waitress didn’t even answer as she went to get drinks. “You want to talk about it?”

           “Nope. I said everything already.” Antha wasn’t mad at him, she was just tired. She was more annoyed that he would ask about the matter and then dispute the realism of what she explained. Doug grumbled when the waitress slopped the pitcher and straws down, vanilla coke-a-cola splashing everywhere.

           “—Hey, don’t we get like a punch-card or something? You know, for every hundred pizzas we buy, we get the next one free?” He politely suggested, his way of being confrontational. He was growing exasperated with the women in his life; he didn’t mind taking it from his close friends, Zoey and the twins, but he was having none of this waitress. She paused, chewed her gum, and left again.

           “Whoa, cool off killer,” Antha snarked, her spirits lifting with each sip of her fountain soda. She looked him over and thought on their friendship for a moment as he griped about that one particular server.

        Doug was a shy, lanky, ginger-bearded young man. He was passionate about things and supportive of the people he loved, but didn’t reserve much attention for the people outside of that parameter. He lived in vintage band t-shirts, had friendly light eyes, and a funny smile. No one could resist his unkempt wolfish hair or his corny sense of humor; he had a way of growing on a person. But he always showed up, his guitar in tow. That’s why Antha didn’t fight him when he asked about that night; she knew he actually cared and was trying his best to understand. He couldn’t help her though. No one could help.

        “How about we hang out this weekend, do a barbeque? Nobody grills a burger like you—and Tessa can make her sangria, huh, what do you think?” He tried to turn the conversation to open her up.

        “Uhh… I don’t know. I can’t plan that far ahead, I’m real busy.” She declined. The sausage pizzas arrived faster than expected and Doug dropped slices on their plates.

        “Busy yeah? Mmm-hmmm,” he bit into his slice, cheese tangling in his five o’clock shadow, “busy not writing your thesis, not eating, and not sleeping? Ant, the last time I saw you eat was a few days ago when I brought pizza over. You gonna talk to me?”

        Antha sighed loudly and glared at him. She was worn-through with the people in her life too. I’m too tired for this shit, she thought. She pushed her plate forward and abandoned her half-eaten slice. He saw her mild protest and his cheeks tinged pink. They silently stared each other down, him chewing as loud as he could manage while she obnoxiously slurped her soda in reply.

        Before they could hash out their issues a patron burst through the front entrance. “Hey—hic—you seen Ant? Where she at? The back?” Tessa was hiccupping and talking all sorts of loud, like she was in a club on a Saturday night. “Oh hey girls!” She pointed at the staff and sashayed herself to the booth; her bedazzled sandals slapping the linoleum like a jackhammer in the quiet place. The front door jingled again and in rushed Zoey.

        “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the front of the house and then chased after Tessa. “I picked her up because she was texting me weird messages—I thought I could calm her down with something to eat.” She explained to the table as she took a seat next to Doug.

        “I already ate today.” Tessa insisted, sliding in next to her sister and almost toppling over a pizza.

        “Oh yeah, what did you have for lunch?” Doug asked, his patience wearing thin.

        “GIN and uh—” she had to think about it but excitedly rebounded, “and uh water ice. Breakfast of champions!” Tessa thought she was quite funny, regardless how everyone else disagreed.

        “How about we have a little slice of pi—” Doug pandered but she wasn’t going to hear any of it.

        “Now who would put sausage on a pizza? Oh, no. I have enough meat in my life—you know what I’m sayin’ Zo—you feel me?” She howled.

        “That’s cute.” Doug’s patience officially went on vacation as of that second. He tore the sausage off some of the pie and then thrust the mangled slice in front of the drunk twin. “There ya’ go, just cheese—And you eat your damn slice too! This has gone on long enough—we’re going to have a barbeque and chill like we always do! It’s Fourth of July this weekend, did you know that?” He directed at the other twin.

        “This white boy’s hollering at you, oh lord…” Tessa cackled; her cheese dripped down the side of the table as she reached for some ice chips from an empty cup. Zoey was mortified and motioned to Antha for help, her friend was out of control.

        “Yeah—well this boy’s about tired of this foolishness! I don’t know all of what’s happened that night, but neither one of you will talk to me about it! Ant you’ve been practically dead, a walking zombie for three weeks—and Tessa, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, what the hell has gotten into you?”

        “Gin.” She giggled.

        “Hey Katy? Can we get all this to go, with some two liters?” He yelled across the full length of the restaurant.

        Zoey handled the food transport as Doug buckled the twins into his car. He mumbled to himself, “…goddamn vampires my ass…” as he cleared his fogging glasses. Tessa began to mildly complain about the heat when the car stopped at a red light. They all noticed a young man struggling to get into a car at the gas station across the way.

        “Is that José?” She whispered. They witnessed his mother trying to steady him, juggling his crutches and searching for a spot on him that wasn’t bandaged. Adorned in a neck brace, shoulder sling, full posterior elbow splint, and full left leg cast. Poor José appeared like he faced-off with a combine. Doug glared at the girls in his rear-view mirror. The light turned green and not another word was said.

        He parked the Buick under the tree closest to the house and got the girls inside. Zoey did the same and brought the provisions to the shaded porch. It was too hot to do anything other than sit around by the fan or stay in the AC. Tessa went to her room when they got in; she felt awful about what she had seen at the gas station.

        They worked together to set up the tall pedestal fan on the porch, because the porch fan just couldn’t combat Mother Nature alone. They were in the midst of dawdling about when Antha accidentally fell asleep on the porch swing while Doug played the guitar. Zoey elicited his help inside to leave Antha to nap. The two were shocked with the state of things.

        Momma’s house was a frightful mess. They never saw it in its condition before: Dishes with dust, articles of clothing haphazardly dropped, laundry either half started or half done, it was difficult to tell. “Momma would roll over, I swear…” Zoey whispered. They agreed to tidy up while the twins rested, lest Momma rise up and haunt them. That woman was meticulous and was not above coming back from the grave to tell everyone what’s-what.

        As if life had been frozen in time from the month prior. The twin’s incident hit like a meteor and their friends now saw the wreckage. While they hadn’t admitted it out loud, they had stopped living too; obsessed with what happened that night at Hollow House. Grasping for a truth that they couldn’t reach.

        The overloaded dishwasher whined as it cycled and it reminded Doug of seeing José, busted up and struggling. That’s what really happens after a bar-brawl. There’s always a winner and always a loser. He half-heartedly swept the floor and thought to himself: these are the parts they edit from movies. The aftermath. The guns, the glory, the blood all made the cut; but the estranged motions we go through to try and find the thread leading back to our lives doesn’t. These are the quiet moments without answers, like loose ends dangling.

        Zoey crept into the kitchen and signaled for him to follow her to the porch. She had just hung the last load of laundry on the line for the afternoon. They were both beat and sweat through from cleaning. They shimmied the big metal ice bucket to the front, fearing they’d disturb Antha. She was so far gone that an earthquake couldn’t wake her. They popped two well-earned beers and exchanged the bits and pieces of what they learned from the twins over the past few weeks.

        “…that’s crazy, right? Like there’s no way what Tessa told me could be real, right? Did someone roofie their drinks?” Zoey asked him as she tied his wavy hair into a top-knot.

        “I’m just worried that something happened they won’t say, like they’re traumatized—I mean, Zo, I was driving to the bar and I seen them covered in blood on the side of the road. Tessa was screaming in the ER that a vampire attacked her sister—and then Antha all of a sudden, calms her down and explains to the doctors that they were lost in the woods, came upon the bed and breakfast for help, and that a strange man assaulted them there. Said they used a fireplace poker in defense, bloodied him up real good, and they escaped to the main road.” Doug took a swig of beer to recuperate.

        He was getting worked up just relaying the story, “But the cops, they investigated that place and found six bodies—slaughtered—in the basement, two of them the owners. The bodies had been sitting there for days before the twins got to ‘em. I’m scared that maniac’s out there. I mean—I’m scared in my own damn apartment when I think about it. What if they were found in that basement? What if we couldn’t find them?” He shook his head.

        “What can we do for them? Are there groups for people like this, who think they’ve seen something supernatural?” Zoey mused aloud as she pinned her jet-black pixie cut hair out of her face. The two pulled fresh beers out of the ice bucket and vowed to do some research after the weekend. They agreed their first goal was to get the twins fed and cared for.

        They watched the sun set into folds of purple, pink, and orange over the high grass. The heat of the day receded with the light, but the humidity persisted only to remind them that it was an intermission; the threat remained that the summer’s full force would return at tomorrow’s dawn.

        The grasshoppers were summoned as Doug strummed his guitar, not truly playing anything particular. Zoey brought out cards to shuffle, waiting on Tessa to play. The evening began to set in peacefully until a rumble cut through the twilight.

        A huge pickup truck barreled down the long drive and parked in front of the house. Out jumped the infamous Flake. His blond hair contrasted against the lavender sky, budding starlight glinting off his aviator sunglasses, and a tooth pick in the corner of his mouth completed his redneck-chic visage. He swaggered up to the porch and was met with a startled Antha; she had jumped up like a viper at the sound of his wheels. He donned a large patch like bandage over half an eye and his hands were wrapped too.

        “Tessa around?” Franco didn’t even offer small talk which had Antha go straight from just waking up to furious.

        “Not for you.”

“Well, I wanted to check in on her—haven’t been able to call on account of that scuffle at the bar. Them boys got my tires and my phone.”

        “Looks like they got your eye too.” She scoffed.

        “Yep,” he laughed and pulled his sunglasses down to reveal those piercing big blues, “you should see the other guy.”

        “We did.” Her disdain seemed to suck the air out of the whole yard. Franco leaned on the porch banister and pulled a smoke from behind his ear. Her eyes burned so hot on him she could have lit his cigarette.

        “I can see you’re not much for visitors, so I’ll just leave this. If you could give it to Tessa, I’d be mighty grateful.” He handed her a number, but she walked away not even considering it. Zoey jumped up and took the note. “Night ya’ll.” Franco flicked his butt into the yard and made his way back to his truck.

        Long after he left and the noise of his truck faded Antha sat, her arms crossed, on the porch swing. Her friends idled by, every so often glancing in her direction waiting for her to speak her mind. The disgruntled twin couldn’t connect the pieces of her dislike for Franco. It wasn’t as simple as his jeans were too torn, his truck too loud, or his gaze too heavy; it was the fact that she knew nothing about him. No one did. Where did he come from—and where was he going? It didn’t add up to Antha that he was the first hillbilly she ever met without a tan. What working man doesn’t have a farmer’s tan? Finally, after a good twenty-five minutes of contemplation Antha announced, “I need a drink.” With a flutter of Zoey’s sundress, she presented a liter of honey whiskey, lemon wedges, and shot glasses.

        A few shots and some pizza in her stomach, Antha started to feel somewhat whole. The four-hour nap revived her a bit, or least lessened the haze she had been wading through. She could finally take in her surroundings: she was lucky to have her friends. When the mosquitos really started to bite they brought their party inside and relished the cool—and now clean—house. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two, I’m sorry I can’t,” she paused, “I just can’t right now.” Before Antha could work out her sentiment the queen bee descended from her room.

        “That’s it! I have decided!” Tessa announced, thumping down the stairs like a sentinel charge. “I’m going to visit José tomorrow—even though it’s not my fault he got his ass beat, I still think it’s only fair to show love.” She waited, her hands on her hips, for their unyielding approval or preferably a round of applause.

        “Look at you growing a conscious,” was the general consensus of the other three. Tessa saucily tossed her braids as she dusted her shoulders. They all scooted into the kitchen table and fed her dinner. Just like a heart, she had a way of pulsing life into a room. Before they knew it, they were swapping stories like always.

        Tessa was laughing and teasing Doug when she took a shot. She threw her empty glass down on the table as was customary, but when the glass met the table it then clinked as if something had been dropped into it. They all sat forward to see a silvery-gray eye in the bottom.

        “Did you just spit that in there?” Doug’s eyes were wide.

        The twins beheld each other knowingly.

        In the beginning, they initially freaked out over the eyes returning. Now it became a sickening fascination of what they could do to them. The eyes always returned. They burned them, they drowned them, and they threw them away; every time the eyes returned to the twins.

        “I tried to tell you, but you’re not listening,” Antha began, “these eyes are following us. Ever since we killed that thing at Hollow House, we’ve had them.” Doug and Zoey’s faces were pained in disbelief.

        “Here.” Tessa got up roughly and held the eye over the sink. She turned on the garbage disposal and dropped it in; it made a grotesque metal sound and then after a few rotations, crunched like glass. Antha showed the eye that was always in her back pocket and explained she threw it away in a drain across town earlier that day. She threw hers in too, directly into the disposal.

        “Well, how long does it take for them to come back?” Zoey asked.

        “They’re not coming back—this is a trick!” Doug looked like an angry leprechaun with his reddened face and stubble. The twins’ faces didn’t even shift with the accusation.

        “Sometimes its seconds, sometimes hours, or a day. It doesn’t matter, they’ll be back.” Antha confirmed and the twins took their seats at the table. The room became solemn as Tessa popped another round of beers and poured a flight of shots for them all, knowing the liquid courage was needed. Doug jumped up from his seat and began checking under cushions, searching cupboards, and drawers. The girls sat back and waited as he processed.

        He huffed, “…you got back-ups, or hiding ‘em somewhere—I don’t know why you’re playing with me right now…it’s not funny…” But then a loud plop sounded on the kitchen table, like a golf ball dropped from the ceiling. He turned to watch a second oversized marble drop seemingly out of thin air. He returned to the table and gawked at the two eyes sitting in front of the twins. “You got to tell us what happened at Hollow House.” Doug’s voice was hushed as he shakily accepted the whiskey shot from Tessa. In unison they saluted and threw back the shots with beer chasers.

        While the four friends went over the sordid events, in gruesome detail, a mysterious figure watched from the unlit porch window. The uninvited guest crept off through the yard, down the dirt-path driveway, and made a phone call:

        “They got them eyes,” it reported, “I reckon there’ll be a war.”

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @nildespirandum​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @latent-thoughts​ @emeraldrosequartz​ @villainousshakespeare​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @caffiend-queen​ @poetic-fiasco​ @lokimostly​ @dianamolloy​ @marvelgirlonamarvelworld​ @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0​ @cateyes315​ @mooncat163​ @nuggsmum​ @myraiswack​​​ @wolfpawn​​ @plastic-heart​​ @confusednerd09​

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #367

“i should warn you that you may fuck me, but chances are i’m gonna fuck you over”

Where was the last place you went for vacation? The beach. When was the last time you wore makeup? Halloween. Do you watch soaps or drama series? If so, which ones? Not currently. What’s your favourite tomato variety? I hate tomatoes. What was your very first pet like? Dad had a dog named Trigger when I was born, but I have no memory of her, so I'm excluding her. I consider our first family pet to be Chance, a cat my mom took in after finding her literally in the trash. She was... god, incredible. She was a loyal friend, and I can imagine no greater mother than she was (she legit fought off a rottweiler head-on to protect her kittens). She was so smart, so gentle, and just simply amazing. I'll always miss her. What was the best school project you remember doing? Looking back, despite the fact it TERRIFIED me before, that would be my senior project presentation. It was about snake misconceptions and fallacies, so I made a slideshow to present to the special ed class. I made drawings for them to color, word searches, all that kind of stuff. They were just the sweetest and seemed really into it. What’s your favourite type of fish to eat? None. What kind of an old person do you think you’ll become? I really... don't like thinking about this. Like I'm weak enough now at 25, I can't imagine how my, say, 60s would be. I hope and just about pray that my physical health will improve, but I'm just going to exclude that part entirely from this answer. Personality-wise and such, I have a feeling I'll be the quiet and sweet kind, the one that loves her (hopeful) spouse like crazy, and comes most alive on Halloween if I live in a place where children come trick-or-treating. I imagine I would LOVE that. I'd love to be the type that goes on morning jogs to help stay spry. Which well-known person’s death shocked you the most, if any? Steve Irwin and Chester Bennington might be tied. Both were so, so sudden. Steve was like, invincible to my childhood eyes, and when I heard about Chester's death, I thought it was just a sick rumor. Two amazing people that died way too soon. What’s the craziest colour you’d dye your hair? That would depend on personal opinions. I want to dye my hair LOTS of colors though, if that tells you anything. What’s the coolest hobby one of your friends has? Uhhhh. Idk. Name a video game you can play over and over again: Shadow of the Colossus. It's a pretty short game if you know what you're doing, and it's super relaxing to me and just so goddamn pretty to look at. Every time I've played it has just been a pleasant experience. Do you like meatloaf? Yeah, it's fine. How about Meatloaf? I know who he is, but I've never really listened to his music. Do you take time to do charitable work? If so, what do you do? No. ;_; Especially with all the free time I have, I really should... What is something that will make you laugh instantly? Okay, don't ask, but if I for a SECOND see that commercial of Mr. Clean dancing while he's cleaning, I will die because of memories. What is something you hope you will never inherit from a specific relative? Diabetes. It runs heavily in my family. Name a movie you wouldn’t watch solely based on its name: The Human Centipede. No. Thank you. Have you ever played in a stack of hay bales? No. What’s your dearest souvenir? The stuffed moose I got at Cabela's during a visit to Ohio. I named him Brownie, and he was my "childhood plushie" we all have. Is there a lot of graffiti around your neighbourhood? Not in the actual area I live in, but there are DEFINITELY places where it's a pigsty of distasteful shit. Have you ever made your own soda? (Soda Stream doesn’t count!) No. Do you have a hobby that forces you out of the house? If so, what is it? Nature photography. Have you ever been part of a theater group? No, that stuff doesn't interest me. What’s the most ecological thing you do? We recycle, and I also use metal straws. Would you stop eating meat, if you had to raise and slaughter it yourself? Absolutely. There is no fucking way I could do it. What’s your favourite board game? Why do you like it best? I like Clue just because of the mystery-solving factor, and I think it's kinda cool how you can think ahead and use other's findings to your own advantage to win the game pretty early. Besides English, what other languages can you speak? Some German. It's gotten pretty weak with neglect, though. Besides English, what other languages can you read? I can read German well. What thing/person/happening has made you the happiest you’ve been? This is a complicated answer that I just don't feel like elaborating on. What’s the most freeing thing you’ve ever done? Letting Jason go. Have you ever had a restaurant dish that was made with bugs? If not, would you even want to try one? No, and I'm not interested. Have you ever tasted birch sap? No. How about the young buds/shoots of spruce trees? No. Which edible flowers have you tasted? Honeysuckles. What has been your worst restaurant experience? Well, it's a fast food restaurant, but lemme tell you about my vegetarian encounter with Burger King. I ordered their veggie burger. Which they have. It's not a secret. These idiots gave me a bun with tomato and lettuce, and I think mayo on it, after sounding confused when Mom was ordering for me. Mom went back in there of course to tell them, and oh god was the manager pissed, lol. I got my veggie burger in the end. What’s the most immature, adolescent thing that still makes you laugh? Some sexually inappropriate jokes can still get me sadly, lol. Have you ever had a life-threatening condition? If so, what was it? Not literally, but boy do I think depression counts. Do you ever compare your life to somebody else’s? If so, why? Y E P. I can't tell you why, I just... do it. I look at other's successes and am just like, "Why aren't I there yet?", and beat myself up about being a failure. What is a food item or a dish you absolutely cannot stand? Brussel sprouts, asparagus, runny eggs, many other things because I'm just mega picky. Have you ever had a custom print done on a shirt? If so, what was it? Just the spray paint kind that vendors like to do at the beach and stuff. I don't remember any I got, though. What does your favourite mug look like? It's black with a Markiplier quote on it, given to me by Sara. :') Do you ever read other people’s survey answers? Yeah! Friends', anyway. I love learning all the obscure things about them. Do you like daytime or night time better? Why? Daytime, specifically early morning, because it's better for my depression. Are you more comfortable as a leader or a follower? A follower that isn't afraid to speak up when I'm really against something. What is your favourite song right now at this very moment? I've been really into "7empest" by Tool lately, and the synthwave edit of "Voices" by Motionless In White. If you watched The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, who was your favourite character? I don't remember it well, but I think I liked the butler. Was there even a butler? Who was your first online friend? Emma. :') Do you have any plants in your home? No. If you wear makeup, what’s the most outrageous colour you use? I only ever use black. What was the last photograph you took? My cat being adorable while sleeping. <3 Have you ever submitted a video to Funniest Home Videos? No. What was the first sport you learned how to play? I want to say soccer? I absolutely hated it. Do you have a headache at the moment? Yes, actually. I've really been attacked by the Covid shot side effects. Are your parents still together? No, thank god. What was the last hot food you ate? I made a chicken and I think pesto (some Italian noodles, idk) Healthy Choice bowl for dinner last night. Have you ever seen a meteor shower? No. :( Do you ever feel afraid people will question your sanity? I'm sure people have before, and back then? Rightfully so. Which X Factor audition(s) was/were your favorite? Never watched it. Were you a straight A student in spelling and grammar? Always. It's so weird how it's gotten worse with time since leaving school, even though I write... Were you a straight A student in math? Yeah, no. I usually got Bs or Cs. What is your favorite shade of yellow? Pastel. I don't really like yellow. What is something you want to accomplish before you turn 30? Have a stable job. Are you afraid of getting yelled at? YES. Do you feel a connection to the moon? It's not something I think about, so not really, but I do believe all things in the universe are connected in some way. We are simply a part of nature, as all else is. What does your heart long for? Contentment in who I am and where I am in life. I know I also miss being in love. Do you know what your purpose in life is? We have no innate purpose; we make our own, and I want mine to be to show others that there is always hope for yourself in yourself, and also to spread the message of love of all animals. Did you decorate a pumpkin this year? Last year I didn't. I really should change that this go around. Have you ever seen a fox? Yes! They're a kind of rare sight here sadly, so when I had the opportunity to photograph a fox tragically as roadkill, it was a photographic experience I won't forget. God, I wanted to pet it (I obviously didn't), but I did talk to it about how beautiful (s)he was as I got some shots. I never had a harder time leaving one of those angels I've taken pictures of. Do you find Halloween fun or scary? FUN!!!!!! Is there anything about Halloween you find offensive? Not at all. What do the trees look like where you live? I mean, there's a variety, but the staple that you see literally everywhere are pine trees. What is your dream vacation? Somewhere with mountains, clear lakes, cool weather, beautiful and various wildlife... What was the best vacation you’ve been on so far? Disney World as a kid. What is the best class trip you’ve been on? The zoo in the 5th grade. It was the one occasion I got to see meerkats. Did you like field trips when you were a kid? I lived for them. Do you find museums boring or interesting? I find science museums to be very, very fascinating. Art ones are great, too. What are three issues you are passionate about? LGBT rights, the pro-choice movement, and wildlife conservation, to name a few. Would you ever wear a shirt with your country’s flag on it? No. I'm not patriotic enough at all. What size is your bed? Queen. What’s a medicine that makes you sleepy? When we were experimenting with my Klonopin dosage, I learned that 3mg was enough to knock me on my ASS. Do you like bath bombs? I mean they're pretty, but I wouldn't waste money on 'em. Who are your favorite small YouTubers? Yikes, a looooooot. But this also depends on what you think qualifies as "small." Most of my favorite "small" YTers are tarantula keepers or sub-1M let's players. Who are your favorite big YouTubers? Markiplier obviously, Snake Discovery, Good Mythical Morning (even if I don't watch them anymore, they are veeery dear to my heart and I will always support them), Sam & Colby... Again, there's a lot. When you don't watch TV and YT instead, you really get attached to a lot of them. What was your favorite girl group when you were growing up? Would you believe me if I said Pussycat Dolls? haha Do you like Disney movies? Um, DUH. Were you ever in the popular crowd? No. Have you ever used an outhouse? UGH, at like childhood sports games, yes. I could NEVER nowadays, oh my god. Could you possibly write a successful novel? I think I have the creativity to, but not the dedication. Are there any foods that make you gag? Beans, for one. I just canNOT with them. It's a completely involuntary reaction. Have you ever had blonde highlights in your hair? I think I did? Who was the last person you video-chatted with? The lady who was seeing if I qualified for TMS therapy. Do you think sleeve tattoos look trashy? Definitely not, I love those. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? I don't actually want one, but if I did, I'd go to a serious professional to get THE Darkiplier smile. :') If u know u know. Do you have any stickers on any of your electronic devices? No. Do you think half blonde/half dark brown hair is attractive? It looks great on some people, but it's not my favorite combo.

[karenninaaa]

Chapter 11 of Across the Street

read entire fic on AO3.

The moment Tony stepped foot in his garage, Friday told him that he had 17 missed calls from his best friend.

“Boss, incoming call from Col. James Rhodes,” Friday said.

“Answer.” He sat on the worn-out swivel chair near the worktable.

“Why aren’t you answering my calls?!”

“Woah, woah, Yosemite Sam, what’s with the tone –what’s the matter-?”

“What’s the matter? I’ve been calling you for-”

“Yeah, this is like the 18th time to be exact. We’ve just talked 8 hours ago. Did you miss me already?”

“After hanging up on me and leaving some alarming message, how could I not call back? I was so close to calling out a SWAT team.”

Tony was confused. “Alarming message-?” Then it clicked. “Oh! The black car I told you about that was outside earlier.”

“Yeah,” Rhodes answered immediately. “What was that all about? Were they spying on you? Do you think they’re dangerous-?”

“He’s not spying on me. He was spying on my neighbor,” Tony explained. “Pepper’s the one who’s in danger.  I was at her house earlier to help her out. That’s why I wasn’t able to answer your calls.”

There was a beat of silence. “This is the second time I’ve heard of Pepper. Who is she exactly?”

Tony leaned his head back on the headrest as he stared on the ceiling. He spun around in his chair. “Just a neighbor.”

“That you’re helping out?” Rhodes continued.

“Yeah, I told you she’s in danger. There’s a psycho stalker lurking around her.” He sat up straighter. “Wait you said you can call in SWAT?”

“Yeah, do you want me to make a call?”

Tony sagged into his seat as he waved his hand. “Forget about it. It would be hard to explain to her how I  got a SWAT team on site. It might freak her out too.”

“Wait, doesn’t she know who you are?”

“She doesn’t know my surname and I have no plans on telling her just yet.” He reached for a small screw driver on the table and began to fidget with it.

“I’m a bit confused. Are we back to playing secret identity here? Does she look suspicious to you?”

Tony sighed. “It’s not that. She works at Stark Industries and it would be awkward if she knows who I am.”He was curious about her from the moment they had first met. So maybe he had done a bit of research about her way before. He paused and smiled. “Besides, I like that I’m just Tony to her, you know, just the neighborhood mechanic.”

“Now I want to go back to the States immediately,” Rhodes said.

“Why, because you miss me?”

“Cause things are starting to get interesting.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Are they?”

“This Pepper gal is making me curious, man. I want to know why you’d consider calling in a SWAT team, just for her.”

Tony sat up straighter once again. He waved the screwdriver in the air. “Tsk. You know how dangerous stalkers can be.”

“Since when did you start to care so much about your neighbors? All you cared about in the past was their car engines when they needed them fixed.”

“I. . .” Tony trailed off. He paused. He wasn’t quite sure how  to phrase out loud the things that had been on his mind lately. “She’s like me ten years ago. She’s got her own Unknown too. She doesn’t know when the Unknown is going to come for her. And we both know how maddening that can be, right? And I . . .” He exhaled. “I can’t just turn my back on that. I’ve got you, Happy and Obie. You all had helped me to be where I am today. I would have gone crazy if it wasn’t for you guys. And she . . . She’s so stubborn to go through all of that alone because she doesn’t want to burden the people close to her. Someone has to volunteer and step up and help her, just like what you did for me back then.”

There was only silence on Rhodey’s end.

Tony blinked. “Hey, Rhodey, you still there?”

“Yeah, I am . . .”

Tony snorted in laughter. “What? Were you moved by my speech?”

“I’m so close to tears man.”

Tony snorted back a laugh.

“Thanks.”.

“And you know, just proud. . . “

“You should be. You’ve got a genius best friend after all.”

“And my best friend has come a long way.”

Tony smiled.

“I expect to meet Pepper when I come by there.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Is she pretty?”

“She’s okay.”

“She’s really pretty then.”

Friday voice suddenly echoed. “Another incoming call from Thomas Patel.”

“Hey, hate to interrupt our lovely conversation, but I’ve got another call coming,” Tony said.

“You’re always so eager to escape a conversation when you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t try to fool someone who has known you since you were fifteen. See you next week.” He hung up before Tony could protest.

Tony glared ahead. Sometimes, he wondered if it was really okay to have a friend who knew how to get to him. He ignored the warming of his cheeks as he answered Thomas’ call. He rubbed his neck.

“Why did you not tell me that Ms. Potts is also working at Stark Industries?”

“Why do people keep on yelling at me on the phone? Nobody has any phone manners today,” Tony griped. “Hello to you too.”

“Sorry. It’s just that, I’ve looked her up.” Thomas elaborated. “Miss Potts is working in the Accounting Department.”

“And?”

“Did you forget to tell me that?”

“Sort of.” Tony shrugged.

“Yep you forgot to tell me this tiny but very important detail. What if we meet in the hallways? What am I gonna tell her? You’re the one who’s so adamant about keeping everything a secret!”

“Then do your best to hide from her, I guess.”

“Wow, I really love my boss. . .”

“I’m detecting sarcasm. And aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?”

“Should I just submit a resignation letter?”

“You’re not going to really do that.”

“You’re right. I can’t do it because I need this job to survive in this harsh world full of capitalism. How am I supposed to hide from her? We’re working on the same building!”

“Look, you two never crossed paths until now, so what are the chances that you’re going to see each other in the hallways like you said.”

“What if we do?”

“You figured out Poincaré Conjecture when you were ten. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. I’m hanging up. I’m gonna grab some lunch. Bye.” Tony hung up.

“I’m done installing the cams and they’re working just fine.” Tony gazed down at the tablet in his hand. Footage from every angle of the house were displayed on the screen.

He was back at Pepper’s house. Like he had promised, he went back to her house when her friends had left. He was standing in the living room. Meanwhile, Pepper was sitting down at the couch. The box containing the tech was opened next to her. Plastic and bubble wrap littered the floor. She tried to be helpful earlier, but after plugging in all the wrong cables one after another, Tony just made her sit down. Though, Pepper being the stubborn woman she was, refused to do nothing at all. She resorted to passing some screws and pliers to him and occasionally rebooting the system when needed to. Tony had learned that she was adept when it came to software.

“I am going to teach you how to work with the OS later.” Tony looked up at her.

Pepper was staring into space. She looked like she hadn’t heard any of what he had just said. Her forehead creased in a small frown.

He had the sudden urge to wrap his arms around her, and comfort her. He wished he could take his thumb and smooth the wrinkles out of her forehead. Instead, he awkwardly perched himself next to her on the couch.

Pepper blinked. She turned her head to look at Tony.

He picked up a white rectangular box on the coffee table, then peeled off the seal. He was aware that she was watching him, curious what might be inside of the box. He hadn’t told her yet what was inside the box, only that they would open it last.

Tony removed the lid. Inside was a digital wristwatch. A thick, black rubber strap was attached to both ends of a silver, square screen.

He plucked out the watch. “Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

He glanced at her as he held out his hand. “Your hand, I need it.”

Reluctantly and slowly, she extended her right hand to him. Tony held her hand as he fastened the wristwatch around her wrist. He noticed how petite and pale her hand was and how soft her skin was under his rough fingers.

“This wristwatch needs to detect body heat signatures to turn on the system. It doesn’t have an on switch on it, that’s why.” Tony explained. He locked the wristwatch. “But don’t worry, you’ll only have to do that once.  When the OS starts to work, you’ll only have your fingerprint to turn it back on. It will shift to sleep mode when not in use.” Moments later, the screen lit up. Several menus popped up.

“Oh! It already turned on.” He grinned at her and then looked back at the screen. He reached for her other hand as he settled down her right wrist on his lap. “Let me borrow your left thumb please.” He pressed her left thumb on the screen. The screen scanned her fingerprint. “It’s for identification. By default you’re the only one who can access this watch but you can always change it if you want. There, it’s done. I’ll tell you about the other features later. For now, you just need to know that it’s not just a watch.”

“How come . . .?”

His thumb caressed the back of her hand. Tony looked at her. “It’s also a panic button.”

“Panic button?” Pepper tilted her head.

He nodded. “If you’re in trouble or if you’re in danger or something, just press the screen really hard with your left thumb and I’ll get an alert and I’ll be there.”

“You?”

He nodded again.

“Why you?”

“Don’t you want me to be?”

“I mean it’s not that I don’t want to but with my anxiety I might press the panic button every minute-”

“Then I’ll be there.”

Pepper laughed.

“You can’t just be there every time I’m a little nervous, you have your own life I just can’t-”

“I told you, I’m the most reliable guy you could ever ask for. So I’ll be there.”

Pepper stared at him. Tony couldn’t gauge if it was because she doubted him. He was usually confident at reading body language and subtle gestures, but with Pepper he was always double guessing. Sure, sometimes, he could figure it out immediately. But there were times that Pepper was so composed and guarded, like right now. Most women wouldn’t hesitate to lay out their feelings for him. Why couldn’t Pepper be like that?

“Uhm, Tony . . .”

“Yeah?”

“My hands.”

Tony looked down. His face burned. He pulled his hands away immediately.

“Sorry,” Tony looked away.

“It’s okay. So uh, how are you going to know where I am if I pressed the panic button?”

“There’s a tracker-”

“Tracker?” She cut in. Her brows knitted together.

“Yeah.” It was his turn to frown. “Why? Do you feel uncomfortable-?”

“Killian put a tracker on me before.”

“Shit. I didn’t know you’ve got a peeve on it-if you don’t like it we can-“

“It’s alright.” She looked down at the wristwatch. She smiled at him. “Maybe it’s a good thing anyway. Like a reminder that trackers aren’t that bad.”

He’d known since the beginning that Pepper’s smiles were pretty. But now, Tony had realized that her smiles weren’t just pretty. Her smiles that came from her deepest fear and were drawn out by her unyielding courage made them extraordinary. Tony liked that even more.

Initially, Virginia thought that her heart was pounding out of fear.

And then, she realized that her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest for another reason.

Was it because of the way he looked at her when he had said that he was the most reliable guy she could ask for? Or was it the way he smiled at her? At that moment, she felt like she had momentarily forgotten the existence of fear. The time around them had warped-- every second felt like a long time where she was free from the crushing anxiety that had been weighing her down. She was left free to breathe and all she could hear was the giddy pounding of her heart.  Was it the excited look on his face when he explained the technicalities of the technologies she couldn’t understand? Was it the gleam in his eyes or the concentrated look on his face as his hands twisted and plugged the wires? Was it the hours that they spent together that told her that it was alright to trust this man, because unlike her who was light as a leaf that quakes under the influence of the slightest breeze, he was as steady as a boulder in a hurricane, as he confidently solved every problem he was faced with.

Or maybe, it was the way he held his hands oh so gently as if her hands were paper-thin porcelain. His hands that felt so warm in contrast to her hands that felt like ice because of the anxiousness that plagued her every moment.

In all those moments with him, her heart beat like it was scared, but she was sure didn’t feel scared. Contrary, it was those moments that she felt safest.

That night as she lay in her bed with her eyes closed, she could feel the coldness of the metal of the wristwatch against her skin. It was somewhat soothing. She thought about her day. She thought about how she was lying calmly in her bed instead of tossing and turning around, despite knowing that Killian knew where she lived. Perhaps, Tony was right. It was easier to go through the rough things with someone at your side, someone whom she could share her fears with and not worry that she was sharing her burdens with him as well.

She opened her eyes. She raised her arm and stared at the wristwatch.

In the end, her heart that was like a drum inside her ribcage was softly telling her that it was okay to believe in him, that he was going to be there when she called his name.

She was thankful though, through the years, she had mastered how to collect herself and hide her jittery heart. That no one but her who could see how fragile her heart was and listen to the agitated beating of her heart. And then, she had a fleeting thought. What if she let Tony listen and hear what her heart sounded like? Could he tame it and hold it like how he had gently held her hands before?

She drifted off to sleep with his name as her last thought and her first thought when she had woken up.

And funny, how she had woken up late in the morning on a weekend when she was always an early riser. Strangely, she’d had a goodnight’s sleep, which had become so rare.

She yawned as she climbed down the stairs tightly wrapping her silk robe around her. She was at the end of the stairs when her doorbell rang.

She froze.

Her first thought was Killian.

She swallowed. Her mind was suddenly on high alert. She wrapped her hand on her wristwatch. That was right. If it was Killian, she could easily call Tony. Might as well put the wristwatch into use and see if it truly worked. But then, knowing Tony it would definitely work.

She cautiously went to the door, gripping her wristwatch.

She opened it.

She blinked.

“Oh my . . .” Tony was standing at her door in his usual plaids. He looked at her from head to foot. “Don’t tell me you just woke?”

She nodded.

“It’s past 10 in the morning. You’re usually an early riser.”

“I thought so too.”

“I thought you were holing yourself up in here.” Then he smiled. “I’m glad you’re still getting sleep.”

There. That smile again. It wasn’t like he hadn’t smiled at her before. But what was different with his smile now that it was making her heart skip a beat? It was the kind of smile where the side of his eyes crinkled and showed all his perfect white teeth. It reminded her of the first time she saw him at Mayday and like that very first time, she couldn’t help but be drawn to that smile.

“So,” Tony spoke jolting her up from her thoughts. He rubbed his hands together. “I heard from my twins that you bake.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I was thinking of inviting you to join us. We are planning to bake some pastries for my twins’ bake sale at school. And they straight up told me that you’re a better baker than I will ever be.”

Virginia laughed then she tried to rein her laughter by pressing her lips together. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“No, it’s fine. I like that my kids were being honest with me actually.”

That made her laugh even more.

“So are you up for it or . . .?”

“Sure. Give me an hour and I’ll go to your house. I promised them that we would  bake some time anyways.”

“Cool. Then we’ll prepare the ingredients. See you later.”

Tony went back to his house. Virginia smiled as she closed the door. It had been so long since she last baked and baking was something she liked doing the most. Lately, it felt like there was no place for her where she could do the things she loved without feeling suffocated and overwhelmed. She only had this house as her own safe haven, but now it felt threatening all of a sudden because of the thought that Killian could show up in any corner at the least expected moment.

She didn’t know that something fun could still be inserted in the midst of the chaos she was in. Tony, in his own way, had managed to provide a small refuge where she could breathe again, even if only temporarily.

[jmeddows2]

Purple Thunder (Roger Taylor Series) - Part 2

(present/old) Roger Taylor x  Reader

**

Notes:** Sorry for grammar mistakes/ weird sentence structures. English is not my first language but anyways, I gave it a go. Enjoy and feel free to submit requests, feedback etc.

There are going to be some inaccuracies regarding song lyrics throughout the series. 

This is what I imagined Reader to wear: 

Part 2: You woke up the next day to an empty bed, because Josh had already gone to a band meeting for his upcoming tour.  You made your way into the kitchen to find a note on the counter: *Morning babe, I’m at the studio, coffee should still be hot. Have fun today, miss you already, I love you*

With a smile on your face, you pour the coffee into your own merchandise mug and grab your phone.

*5 unread messages*

*From: Ruf - Darkness*

“you’re meeting up with my dad today??? :O why didn’t you tell me? ☹ x ” – 7.03 am “oh sorry, good morning, (Y/N) :D  x” – 7.04 am “congrats on the Grammy by the way, I want to be you when I grow up 😉 x” – 7.10 am “my dad told me to take you home to his home studio in Surrey, if that’s ok x” – 7.20 am “I’ll pick you up at 11 x” – 7.24 am

You first met Rufus when your band was a support group for his band ‘The Darkness’, during that time you also had a short fling with his lead singer. Honestly though, it was all about the parties, coke and booze. On one of those drunken nights you ‘accidently’ expressed your love for Queen and especially Roger, to Rufus. He was so shitfaced that he probably forgot every word you said anyways.

You were a little disappointed, that Roger didn’t text or call you himself, since you exchanged numbers the night before.  Taking a quick glance at the clock you nearly dropped your mug. 10.33 am. ‘Fuck, how am I supposed to get ready within the next 27 minutes?’, you thought to yourself. You took a quick shower, brushed your teeth, put on a white lace bralette, some light ��� blue ripped jeans and a fluffy, short coat. A little exposing, but that was your trademark after all and you couldn’t just show up to Roger fucking Taylor’s house wearing joggers and an old, washed out shirt, right? While applying your eyeliner you received a message on your phone:

*From: Ruf – Darkness* “I’m outside x”

You took one last glance in the mirror, locked the door and made your way outside. There was Rufus, leaning against a red Ferrari 308 GTB. Once he spotted you, a smile appeared on his face and he greeted you with a big hug: “Ahhh, (Y/N)! Long time no see, how have you been?” “Pretty good, how else would a Grammy winner feel?”, you replied. “Congratulations, majesty. I meant what I said by the way, I want to be you when I grow up”, you chuckled at his comment. “Ruf, you’re older than me. Nice car you got there!” He opened the door for you, closed it, got in on the driver’s side and the car journey began.   “My dad actually gifted it to me, he bought it in 1983, but this bad boy is still in the best shape. You look very pretty today! Who’d you dress up for, though? We’re just going to see my dad and you’re going to be locked up in a studio”, he chuckled. His words made you blush, but thankfully he didn’t notice. “Thank you. But what do you mean, Ruf? I always wear this kind of stuff. How long is the drive anyway?” “About 35 minutes, I lived in Surrey my whole life. My sisters lived with my mum though. The only people that still live in the Surrey home are my dad and his wife.”, he explained. Right. You totally forgot that Roger was a married man. “I see, some embarrassing childhood pictures I could browse for then?!”, you tried to cheer yourself up. “Don’t even try, love”, he chuckled.

The drive went by quickly and you found yourself in front of the biggest house you’d ever seen. And you’d seen plenty of them. It was majestic, close to a castle, with lots of greenery. Hell, the garden was at least ten times as big as your apartment in the city of London, which was far from small itself.

“T- that’s where you grew up?”, you stuttered. “Yeah my dad owns a few houses. One’s in Ibiza, one in Switzerland, a mansion in LA, there’s also the apartment in Kensington. I used to live in Kensington one with my girlfriend, but we decided to get our own place in Soho”, he laughed. “So nice to hear, how’s Jessica by the way?” you asked as you both walk towards the front door. “She’s good, very good. But it’s so hard to have such hectic lives, my touring and her modelling job. Who am I to tell you about these kinds of things? You know exactly what I’m talking about. Greet Josh from me, by the way.”, he answered. Hearing those words, your mind drifted to your boyfriend, Josh, and you wondered what he was on about in this moment. Your thoughts were cut off as the door swung open. “Hi, there you are, kids.” Kids. Ouch. “Nice to see you again Mr. Taylor!”, you stretched out your hand. “C’mere”, he took you by surprise and pulled you into a big hug. When he released you from the probably best hug you’d ever received, a slight pink shade started to form on your cheeks. Thankfully the two didn’t notice, because he turned to Rufus and greeted him just the same way. Rogers expensive cologne still lingered on your chest from the hug and you swore it was your favorite smell already. “You two must be hungry, I prepared some ‘pigs in blankets’ for lunch. I know it’s not much, but Sarina’s not here and I suck at cooking.”, Roger stated proudly. “Sorry pap’s, I can’t stay over, I promised my girl Jessica to accompany her to a photoshoot. (Y/N)? I’ll pick you up at 8 to go back home?”, Rufus asked you. “Don’t bother, Rufus, enjoy your time with Jess.”, Roger said, as he turned to you “I can give you a ride home, (Y/N). I figured to stay in Kensington for the upcoming weeks, since my wife is gone to shoot a new movie. So if you don’t mind…” “I’d appreciate that, thank you, Mr. Taylor”, you smiled kindly. “It’s Roger for you, don’t make me even older than I already than”, he said with a sad smile, never leaving your eyes. “You’re not that old”, you decided to cheer him up. “She’s right”, Rufus chimed in. “..you still got it….. for an old man”, he laughed. Roger took it with humor and was quick to tell him: “Don’t you have somewhere to be, son?” A quick goodbye was exchanged, with the two of you left in the kitchen.

“Let me give you a quick house tour before we get to work, darling?”, his words sent shivers down your spine. With each room, your eyes grew bigger and bigger, it must have cost a fortune, made you speechless and Roger noticed your excitement, which made him kind of proud of himself. The mansion included seven bedrooms, a huge swimming pool, a Jacuzzi, several game rooms, stables and a tennis court outside. “Wow”, was the only thing you were able to mouth while you two stood in front of the lake, right beside his house. “You know, I always used to come down here, when things get too crazy. I’ve written so many songs here. It’s inspirational, peaceful.” “I can see exactly what you mean”, you agreed with him. “When things got too crazy for me, I never really had somewhere to go, you know? To blow some steam off. That’s why I literally exploded”, you sad with a sad smile. “Sorry to bore you with that.” “No, no, I know what it’s like, love. The constant pressure, people being complete wankers and judging your every move, I’ve been there before, don’t worry about that”, he gave you sympathetic smile. “…except that there isn’t a Grammy stood on my trophy wall”, he continued. You two started to laugh when a serious expression started to form on his face: “Seriously though, don’t let these wankers get to you. You’re a talented, pretty, young girl. If you should ever need some advice, help or anything, I’d love to help you out, to mentor you. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, this is only the beginning.”   “Thank you, that means a lot coming from rock royalty, Mr. T-, I mean Roger”, you blushed. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”, you asked to escape the situation. It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, in fact, you wanted to hug him and shower him with compliments, but that would be too weird, right? You two made your way to the back of the house where his home studio was situated. It was bigger than any recording studio you’d ever been in. You spotted approximately 20 guitars, a beautiful white piano, a ukulele, 5 drum kits in different sizes etc. You found yourself admire the walls, which held framed drum skins of his, one had his face on, another one had a simple ‘Queen’ written over it, and right next to that, one with the Queen logo. As you reached the last one a ‘smile’ crept onto your face, as it was the Smile band logo (see what I did there? 😉) You were so mesmerized by the drum skins, that you didn’t notice Roger standing right behind you. “I see you’ve found the old gems, love”, he made you jump. You couldn’t even find the words to say before he began: “So I’ve got this little song here and I’d like to release it sometime soon, but I’d love to hear your opinion on it, your honest opinion!”, with that the song began to play.

A heavy guitar started the song, while a steady beat kicked in in the background, accompanied by the lyrics ‘wake up, you boys; shape up, you girls; are you, aware; there’s gangsters running this world’. You lost it at the next part when there was heavy drumming involved, nodding your head to the beat, while Roger always kept his eyes on you, to get a great view of your reaction. Once the song was over, he broke the silence: “So? How’s that? Be brutally honest!”

“Honestly?”, you managed to keep a straight face which turned into a smile, “I love it, the guitars, the drums, the lyrics, it’s catchy and has a real meaning.”

“Are you sure? I could spend a little more time on mixing it to-“ “It’s perfect, Roger, I mean it”, you cut him off. He smiled at you. How could a rock legend like him be so self – conscious? As he fiddled with the buttons on the mixing board you found yourself staring at him. Admiring his beauty, blue ocean eyes, you could get lost in them. You dreamed of situations like this since you were younger, even younger than now. He didn’t look his age at all, his smile looked the same as it did in 1975. Damn. How could anybody be so beautiful?

“..did you just hear me?” “Sorry, what?” “I asked if you want to grab something to eat right now? We could take it down to the lake” “That sounds awesome”, you answered. “What’s the song called?”, you asked as you dipped your feet into the lake, taking a bite from the ‘pig in a blanket’. “Gangsters are running this world, actually. I also dubbed it to be the ‘purple version’” You nearly choked at his words. “Purple?”, asked. “Yeah, it’s kind of an homage to you and your band. You inspired me on the musical parts” For the literally hundredth time that day you felt speechless. You just stared at him searching for words, which you most certainly couldn’t find. This atmosphere inspired you to the fullest: peace, silence, only birds chirping, you decided to scribble down some lyrics into your notebook. You didn’t even have to think hard about it, it just came naturally. Once you looked up, Roger was already looking at you. “What? Do I have something on my face?”, you asked. “No, was just admiring the view, I must say you look very beautiful today. Not just today, you always do.”, he said. You thanked him and were quick to excuse yourself to the bathroom, even though had no intention to use it. Is this really happening? You splashed some water on your face to calm down a little. *Roger’s POV* ‘Wow you really outdid yourself once again’, he thought to himself. ‘What is this girl doing to you?’ He knew it was wrong to say such a thing, but he couldn’t help himself once he saw your face all concentrated, shining eyes flying over the paper, the tip of your tongue poking out to lick your lips slowly. *(Y/N)’s POV* You made your way back to Roger, as it was starting to get darker and darker outside. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable earlier.”, he apologized. “That’s not it, Roger, I’m just really tired, it’s been a long night yesterday and I’m exhausted.” Lies. You were literally asleep once you arrived home at 11 pm. “That little boyfriend of yours got kept you awake then?”, he laughed. “Stop”, you playfully hit him. You didn’t want to admit that it was actually him, you were thinking about right before you fell asleep. The ride home was quiet, mainly because you fell asleep after 5 minutes, cuddled into the seat of Roger’s spacious Range Rover. “(Y/N), love? We’re here!”, he gave you a light shake, got out of his seat, walked over to your side, to open the door for you.

“thanks for your help today”, he smiled down at you. “I wasn’t any help at all, but you’re welcome”, you smiled back. Roger pulled you into a hug, there it was. His smell, you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. And your heart started to beat fast. The warm, safe feeling was quickly cut off by the clicking of cameras. Fuck. Paparazzi. You exchanged quick goodbyes, escaping the situation and to prevent more pictures to be taken. Fuck. They had to ruin everything. Maybe it was for the best. Walking into the flat Josh had already been waiting for you on the couch. “What is that?” he sounded angry. “What is what?” He pointed to a picture on his phone which showed Roger and you hugging just a few minutes ago. Fuck, those paparazzi’s work fast.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

14th February >> Mass Readings (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Feast of Saints Cyril, Monk, and Methodius, Bishop (Europe)

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Acts of the Apostles 13:46-49

Since you have rejected the word of God, we must turn to the pagans

Paul and Barnabas spoke out boldly. ‘We had to proclaim the word of God to you first, but since you have rejected it, since you do not think yourselves worthy of eternal life, we must turn to the pagans. For this is what the Lord commanded us to do when he said:

I have made you a light for the nations,

so that my salvation may reach the ends of the earth.’

It made the pagans very happy to hear this and they thanked the Lord for his message; all who were destined for eternal life became believers. Thus the word of the Lord spread through the whole countryside.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 116(117)

R/ Go out to the whole world and proclaim the Good News.

O praise the Lord, all you nations,

acclaim him all you peoples!

R/ Go out to the whole world and proclaim the Good News.

Strong is his love for us;

he is faithful for ever.

R/ Go out to the whole world and proclaim the Good News.

Gospel Acclamation

Luke 4:17

Alleluia, alleluia!

The Lord has sent me to bring the good news to the poor,

to proclaim liberty to captives.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 10:1-9

Your peace will rest on that man

The Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them out ahead of him, in pairs, to all the towns and places he himself was to visit. He said to them, ‘The harvest is rich but the labourers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send labourers to his harvest. Start off now, but remember, I am sending you out like lambs among wolves. Carry no purse, no haversack, no sandals. Salute no one on the road. Whatever house you go into, let your first words be, “Peace to this house!” And if a man of peace lives there, your peace will go and rest on him; if not, it will come back to you. Stay in the same house, taking what food and drink they have to offer, for the labourer deserves his wages; do not move from house to house. Whenever you go into a town where they make you welcome, eat what is set before you. Cure those in it who are sick, and say, “The kingdom of God is very near to you.”’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

————————-

Thursday, Fifth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Genesis 2:18-25

Man and wife become one body

The Lord God said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone. I will make him a helpmate.’ So from the soil the Lord God fashioned all the wild beasts and all the birds of heaven. These he brought to the man to see what he would call them; each one was to bear the name the man would give it. The man gave names to all the cattle, all the birds of heaven and all the wild beasts. But no helpmate suitable for man was found for him. So the Lord God made the man fall into a deep sleep. And while he slept, he took one of his ribs and enclosed it in flesh. The Lord God built the rib he had taken from the man into a woman, and brought her to the man. The man exclaimed:

‘This at last is bone from my bones,

and flesh from my flesh!

This is to be called woman,

for this was taken from man.’

This is why a man leaves his father and mother and joins himself to his wife, and they become one body.

Now both of them were naked, the man and his wife, but they felt no shame in front of each other.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 127(128):1-5

R/ Happy are those who fear the Lord.

O blessed are those who fear the Lord

and walk in his ways!

By the labour of your hands you shall eat.

You will be happy and prosper.

R/ Happy are those who fear the Lord.

Your wife will be like a fruitful vine

in the heart of your house;

your children like shoots of the olive,

around your table.

R/ Happy are those who fear the Lord.

Indeed thus shall be blessed

the man who fears the Lord.

May the Lord bless you from Zion

all the days of your life!

R/ Happy are those who fear the Lord.

Gospel Acclamation

James 1:21

Alleluia, alleluia!

Receive and submit to the word planted in you:

it can save your souls.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Mark 7:24-30

The astuteness of the Syro-Phoenician woman

Jesus left Gennesaret and set out for the territory of Tyre. There he went into a house and did not want anyone to know he was there, but he could not pass unrecognised. A woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit heard about him straightaway and came and fell at his feet. Now the woman was a pagan, by birth a Syrophoenician, and she begged him to cast the devil out of her daughter. And he said to her, ‘The children should be fed first, because it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the house-dogs.’ But she spoke up: ‘Ah yes, sir,’ she replied ‘but the house-dogs under the table can eat the children’s scraps.’ And he said to her, ‘For saying this, you may go home happy: the devil has gone out of your daughter.’ So she went off to her home and found the child lying on the bed and the devil gone.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

[hellagaymccree]

Exposed Treasure pt. 3

In coming 8k part but I’ve posted the whole thing on AO3 for those who might come across this for the first time and in case it’s easier to read there.

[AO3 LINK]

Also heads up for very brief McCree/Gabe/Genji and hints of Genji76. I want to write more of the McCree/Gabe/Genji seen and surely add a foursome scene but they’ll come later. For now I just wanted to complete the main idea and focus on mcreyes.

[Part One] [Part Two] [More fics by me] [consider supporting me through ko-fi]

“Did you like what you saw?” McCree’s heart skips a beat when Gabriel asks him later that night in their weekly paper work session. He looks up from the file he’s reading and finds Gabriel smiling too tenderly.

“Sir?” McCree tries to keep his voice even.

“Ana is working on getting us a safe house in the Caribbean,” Gabriel explains and chuckles. “A low-key way of telling me you need a vacation.”

McCree laughs nervously and tries to make memory of the e-mail he worked on earlier after seeing the video he shouldn’t have. “Yeah, she’s sneaky, but I’m glad to have her on my side.”

“It’s not like it’s me that doesn’t want to give you guys more days off,” Gabriel defends himself.

“I know, Gabe. But I think she’s also sayin’ you need the days off, too.” McCree points at him with a pen. “When was the last time you have a vacation?”

“Before I signed a contract for Overwatch.” McCree laughs at his commander’s answer, but Gabriel’s looking at him in a way that tells him he’s not kidding.

“That’s just wrong, boss,” the cowboy drawls. “I hope Ana does get us that safe house. You could use a few days on the beach.”

Reyes scoffs, “Will I have a guy with bleached blonde hair come to my rescue if I drown?”

“Hey! Genji had dyed his hair before, I thought he knew what he was doin’!” McCree protests, knowing well his commander his teasing him when the cowboy went undercover as a lifeguard last year.

“Did it accord to you he had people doing that for him?” Gabriel tilts his head with a grin and McCree rolls his eyes and closes the folder before taking it over to a file cabinet.

After more teasing and more paperwork, Gabriel calls it a night and Jesse waves a lazy goodbye and leaves the office, leaving behind the colorful serape the cowboy wears when nights get chilly around base. The one Gabriel got him five Christmases ago and fixes up when it has a rip.

---

Genji first points out Reyes knows about their game to McCree after the commander tried to hide his phone as he walked down a hall in front of Genji and missed the pocket, causing the device to clatter to the floor. But Gabriel kept on walking until he turned the corner and never returned for it. Of course, Genji had grabbed it before anyone noticed and followed where the commander had gone, but he went on without a care.

McCree agrees it’s suspicious when the code is still the same as it was when they unlocked it the first time. But when the screen is covered by Gabriel’s moaning face as he fucks himself with a dildo, too big to have been an easy task, they forget about it for five minutes. Then forget about it again when they see pictures of Gabriel, parading in front of a mirror in what they assume are a new pair of lacey white panties under his tactical uniform. His pants are down to his knees, hiding most of the white stockings that connect to the underwear. McCree is actually furious there’s only one picture of him in those, which he sends to himself. Genji doesn’t ask for a forward, and McCree doesn’t offer.

When he’s cock is aching and tenting his pants, when he’s about to take care of it, Genji shoves the phone away and saddles the cowboy’s hips, making him groan when the pressure pushes his dick down. “I’m surprised you’ve let me see your commander this way.” McCree catches the way the cyborg says ‘your commander’, as if Reyes truly belongs to Jesse. And McCree wants to clench his teeth, sink them on Gabe’s skin to truly make the statement, in front of Morrison even, without a care. “I can leave you alone, I’ve had my fun.”

McCree chuckles, “Bet you wish we saw more of Morrison.”

“Of course, but from what I’ve seen, I think I can get it out of him, sooner or later.”

McCree raises an eyebrow, “Oh, yeah? Does it involve me?”

The cyborg nods with wicked eyes, “But for now, let’s take care of ourselves.”

---

Since you’re not getting the hint, come by my office at lunch to get it back

Jesse reads the message through groggy eyes when he wakes up, and the image attached to it doesn’t process in his mind even after his vision clears up.

Gabriel Fucking Reyes, laying naked on his bed, arching his back perfectly as Jesse’s serape drapes over certain parts of his body, one being the noticeable bulge. McCree sits right up and his morning wood twitches with more pleads for release.

He doesn’t show Genji, just tells him about it. Genji smirks at him before lunch and tells him: “Go get him tiger.”

The walk to Reyes’ office is longer than other times, he even thinks he got lost at some point after memorizing every turn. His palm sweat too much and his lips go dry too often for his tongue to slide between them. He thinks everyone knows what he’s about to do, or if something’s about to happen. He took the image as an invitation, but what if it wasn’t? Gabe said he didn’t get the hint; McCree could’ve lost his chance.

The cowboy shakes his head as he reaches the door and stands straight in front of it. He doesn’t think of that. Gabriel could’ve just handed him back the serape if McCree indeed had lost his chance. There was no need of putting something like that in front of Jesse’s eyes and pulling it away. From what Jesse had seen, Gabe was needy, and once he got in the mood, he needed to be satisfy.

He takes so long to knock, Reyes opens the door for him, but instead of the soft, welcoming gaze McCree expects, Gabriel just frowns at him and shoves the serape into his hands. “I can’t wait around all day, McCree. And from your schedule, neither can you.”

“Oh,” the sound slips from McCree’s mouth and he can’t hide the disappointment as he looks down at it. He does notice the new patch up tear it used to have before he left it behind.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him and crosses his arms. “You thought it’d be that easy, vaquero?” McCree looks at him again. “Because you saw me, you think you can waltz in here and I’ll bend for you?”

“No, sir.”

Gabriel scoffs and smirks at him, obviously mocking him. “If you really want this, you come back and show me.”

---

His schedule begins with running laps with the rest of the team. He and Genji slow down, letting the rest go ahead, while McCree tells him what happened. The cyborg has a moment of laughter once Jesse ends.

“What’s so funny?” Jesse’s grumpy at the fact he was practically humiliated in front of the guy who’s at fault for McCree’s lust.

“You need to let him know how you want him. You’ve seen the way Jack does it, now you have to do it too.”

“You mean I should’ve just walked in there and taken him on his desk?”

“Not necessary. You have to show him what you’d do to him, make him want to want you just as much.”

“Alright,” Jesse pauses for a while, brainstorming ideas, but he can’t figure out. By the time they’re done running, he asks, “Do you have any suggestions?”

Genji smirks, “Glad you asked, because I do. Let the others go first to wash, run another lap with me.”

They don’t do anything on the track. Genji’s plan involves walking into an empty locker room. He turns McCree around and pins him against the lockers while he gets on his knees in front of the cowboy.

“Genji?” McCree asks, taken back.

“Record this and send it to your commander,” the cyborg says with confidence. “Once he sees you ordering me around, getting what you want, he’ll start softening up for you.”

“Are you sure?” McCree asks as he pulls out his phone.

“I am, now, tell me what to do, cowboy.”

McCree smirks down at him before he presses the record button and starts caressing up Genji’s face to his hair. Once his hand is where he wants it, he grabs at the short dark hair and pulls Genji to rub his face against the growing bulge under his sweats. His friend mouths at it, not caring of the moist fabric or the smell.

“You were so needy out there,” Jesse drawls, “so eager for me. Like always.” Genji mouths some more while he hums in appreciation. His hands slide up to pull down Jesse’s pants, but he pulls Genji by the hair to stop him, causing the ninja to hiss. “Not yet.” Genji bites his lip in response before he’s allowed to get closer again. He keeps mouthing and rubbing his lips around McCree’s hardening cock as it begins to tent his sweats. McCree shifts on his feet, feeling ready to let the cyborg take him in his mouth. But he must show his own restrain if he wants to tame Reyes. He must show he can manage such a task. It seems easy when Morrison does it, but they’ve also been doing it for years. Gabe already submits to him out of habit. McCree will be someone new to test.

Genji does a good job at looking hungry for Jesse’s cock. His pupils start to blacken as he keeps looking up to the cowboy, asking for permission. “Go on,” Jesse permits as he outlines Genji’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Take my fat cock in that pretty mouth of yers.”

Genji licks his lips and pulls down Jesse’s pants and boxers in one go. He mouths up the length firsts and then licks the veins. McCree bites his tongue from sounding so vulnerable for Gabriel. Instead he starts talking again, “All pretty on yer knees fer me. Don’t even wait for me to shower. You like how I taste?” Genji hums in appreciation and kisses the swollen head of Jesse’s cock. “Course you do. Show me how much, go on.” Genji goes to take it in his mouth, but McCree moves it away and slaps it lightly against Genji’s cheek instead. Then he draws his lips before slapping it against the bottom one. “That’s right, know when you can.”

Genji whines as McCree keeps teasing him, only letting his head near the cyborg’s lips before pulling away. McCree laughs low and gravelly, and finally settles his loaded dick on Genji’s bottom lip to slide it inside. He moans as sensual as he can, and makes sure the camera catches the way his free hand fists at Genji’s hair, pushing him to take him deeper. Genji’s mouth is scorching around him, and the fact that this video will, hopefully, be viewed by Reyes makes the orgasm in McCree coil faster. But he has to hold on.

“Mmm, that pretty mouth feels great, Gen. You use it to make yourself look big, but look at ya. On yer knees in this dirty floor, taking my big, sweaty cock in you.” Jesse’s breath stutters when Genji’s tongue flickers under his dick. “Yeah, keep doin’ that. Such a good boy fer me.” The cyborg’s eyelids flutter as his cheeks hollow.

McCree continues his drawls and sweet words as he pulls at Genji’s hair or caresses his cheek and plumbed bottom lip to encourage him. He notices the video has been going for more than five minutes and decides its enough. He grabs Genji’s head and starts fucking into him, sending a message to Gabriel that he will be in that position, that he will be used just like Genji is.

“You want my sweet seed, Genji?”

Genji moans, “Yes.”

“Good,” McCree says, hopes his smile is heard in that simple word, before he thrust one more time into Genji’s mouth and comes down his throat.

---

After that, McCree can’t seem to stop himself. Once he’s showered and getting ready for an escort mission, he lies on his bed and rubs himself until his bulge is bigger than normal. He snaps a picture and sends it to Reyes, along with the words “all ready for another round if ya need me.” Gabriel hadn’t said anything about the video when McCree sent it as soon as he was done with Genji, but he know his commander had seen it. And quickly, the photo gets the green checkmark of also being seen. The cowboy scoffs before he continues getting ready, ignoring now the hard on between his legs and how much he wants to barge into Reyes’ office to take care of it.

Next, he makes sure to take a late night shower after the mission, and record himself slowly, and torturously, jerking himself off as he speaks to Reyes.

“Been thinkin’ of ya all day,” the cowboy purrs behind the phone as he watches his own hand jerking up the length of his weeping, wet cock. “Imaginin’ that beautiful mouth of yers around this fat cock. How gorgeous you’d look on yer knees, taking it all in.” He makes sure to drawl on the ‘all’, and groans when he feels his orgasm pooling in his stomach. He can pictures Gabriel, fully clothed, on his knees, wet from the shower, his own cock restrained under his pants, but McCree won’t touch him. He just wants his own pleasure. He comes with a breathless gasp and stops recording after giving a few more gentle strokes.

It’s Genji’s idea to record them fucking on the table where Blackwatch usually does their briefing. Genji’s back is towards McCree and the phone camera, as his round ass jiggles on top of McCree, taking his cock like life depends on it, giving Reyes a real show of how needy McCree makes him.

He sends more pictures sprinkled during the week, along with messages of what McCree will do to Reyes once he gets his hands on, because he knows he will get his commander. And he lets him know. McCree can see his own confidence growing the more he does it. He’s always had a high opinion of himself, and walked the earth like he created it. But this was different. He never saw himself playing this kind of game, this kind of possession and control, less with a man like Reyes.

But now all he can think of is being on top of Gabriel, using him as he wants, and giving Reyes what he needs. If he doesn’t get it soon, he will barge in to find it.

---

It’s almost two weeks after his encounter with Reyes, and Blackwatch is set around the table Genji and McCree used last week, if Reyes remembers or feels something about it, he doesn’t let it show. He reads from his tablet the information for his agents without breaking character. While McCree, sitting in the last chair, rubs himself hard under the table, and snaps a quick picture. He sends it through his e-mail to Reyes, making sure the subject is something to catch his eyes when he sees the notification, and waits, carefully watching his commander.

Reyes stops midsentence and McCree grins in victory. Then his commander continues like nothing, but that faltering moment is enough for Jesse to know he is getting a reaction from Reyes.

After the agents are dismissed, Jesse waits to be left alone with Gabriel, and stands up, his bulge still visibly interested . He walks to his commander, making sure every step is clearly heard over the carpeted floor. Reyes gazes up from his tablet, looking from his agent’s boots, up his legs. His jaw works when he spots the image he was sent earlier, and meets eyes with Jesse, who tips his hat at him.

“Lookin’ thirsty there, boss,” the cowboy comments. “Hope you’re likin’ my gifts.”

Gabriel breathes in and answers, “Hope you’re liking sleeping on that lonely bed.”

Jesse scoffs, not letting his grin fade, “You’ve seen what I’ve done in those videos, my bed’s hardly lonely.”

Gabriel drops his arms at his sides and frowns, “No reason to need me then.” He makes a turn to leave the room, but McCree is not ready to let him go and grabs his wrists.

“Don’t be like that, angel,” McCree says as softly as he can. “Lately, all I can think about is you. That time in the shower?” McCree steps closer to him and speaks close to his ear, murmuring the profanities. “I meant it, all you, on yer pretty knees, lips plumb from takin’ my cock and eyelashes fluttering in pleasure. What’d you think got me so hard?” The cowboy pushes his hips forward just a light bit for Gabriel to feel him, but pulls away quickly to tease. He notices the man swallowing hard. “Yer body, beautiful thighs apart, hole ready for me and yer gorgeous face against yer bed as is push ya down to take me.”

McCree maneuvers them around and shoves Gabriel against the table, making sure his groin gets pushed to the furniture. He presses his own body behind Gabriel’s and continues whispering over his shoulder. “I wonder if yer wearin’ that pretty little white thing I saw in the photo, you know the one. All lacey and delicate. I could rip it with my bare teeth and release your breathtaking body to me.”

“McCree,” Gabriel says sharply through clenching teeth as his hands fall to the table for leverage.

“You look like heaven in white, sugar. And I’m the right devil to drag ya down.” He works from behind to unbutton his commander’s pants and then digs his fingers around the waist band until they end up in the curve of his lower back. Gabriel’s breath hitches and McCree smiles before he lowers the piece of clothing and slips his hand inside, ready to search what he looks for.

There’s no lace, but neither boxers. In fact, there’s no type of underwear. But McCree does find a plug tucked between Gabriel’s cheeks and he chuckles. “I see yer ready. And this early in the morning, commander?” McCree hums. “This little thing better be for me, because I’m done waitin’. Or is it for Jack?” he growls the last part and though Gabriel arches his back to rub his ass against McCree’s hardening cock, he doesn’t answer verbally. And Jesse knows it is for Jack.

His free hand comes around to grab Reyes’ chin and holds him in place. He hasn’t come all this way, held his feelings for this long, and gotten himself this deep just to have the blonde with blue eyes take it from him. “Ya better cancel on him, because I’m in the mood to hunt tonight, and I don’t care if I walk in on you two. I will pry him away n’fuck ya right in front of him. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Gabriel moans and jerks his hips again, looking for friction, for some kind of release. “I’ll fuck ya in front of the whole base just to keep ev’ry one away. Thought yer affair with Jack would continue after ya sent me that delicious picture of yerself? No, sweetheart. Once I set my eyes and hands on you, no one else can touch you unless I say so.”

When Gabriel starts breathing heavily, and McCree feels he’s about to explode, he steps back. Gabriel’s shoulders drop and he looks over his shoulder, eye blown and foggy with want. “I’ll see ya tonight.”

---

‘On my way, and that plug better still be in place.’ McCree sends to Gabriel as he’s getting ready after a nice, warm shower. He wears regular jeans and a shirt. He thinks over taking the hat, but decides to also wear it, along with the boot with spurs, he wants Gabriel to hear his hunter getting closer.

When he arrives at Gabriel’s room, he knocks and doesn’t have to wait long before the door slides opened. Gabriel stands near, arms crossed, no beanie, his usual cargo pants and boots and a thight black shirt. “Evenin’, angel.”

“Jesse,” Gabriel greets.

“I’m assumin’ we have to talk ‘bout it before we start,” Jesse says as he steps closer.

“What makes you think something will starts at all?”

Jesse’s bravado falters for a second after Gabriel’s words, but he chuckles and continues his suave stalk to the commander. His thumbs are hooked on the bell hops, pants tight to showcase the goods between his legs and chest puffed out in victory. His right hand moves to caress Gabriel’s jaw and the fact that the commander allows him tells him enough. “C’mon, sugar,” Jesse purrs as he closes the remaining distances and his breaths brushes against Gabriel’s ear. “Ya want me, n’I want ya like crazy. And I will turn ya into a madman once I’m done with ya, trust me.”

Gabriel’s Adam’s apple bobs, giving away his vulnerability, “A lot of talk.”

“N’here comes the walk,��� Jesse finishes as he moves Gabriel’s chin towards him and captures his lips with his own. He tells Gabriel everything he has said through the videos in the kiss. Gabriel will be his. He will drive him crazy. He will break him. He will cherish his gorgeous body and make him scream until morning.

Gabriel answers with a kiss of his own, inhaling the cowboy’s clean scent and his head spins, the rooms feels smaller and he turns liquid when Jesse wraps his arms around him tight, not letting him escape. McCree starts pushing him back and around the small apartment until they reach the commander’s bed. “On your back, sweetheart,” Jesse orders and Gabriel obeys after giving him a quick kiss that makes Jesse smirks.

Gabriel lies down, so obedient, and sways his hips from side to side as he settles, obviously tempting Jesse to pounce on him already. Instead, Jesse undoes the button of Gabriel’s pants and his eyes widen when he sees a hint of white. “Fuck, angel,” he lowers the pants with the help of Gabriel and he sees the rest. The same white lace panties Gabriel had on the picture. Jesse doesn’t care if it looks desperate, if it’s not what Gabriel expects, he pulls Gabriel’s boots and pants off so his hands can roam freely over the tight stockings and trace the straps that connect to the underwear. Gabriel raises and lowers his knees, showing off his legs and how meaty his thighs are. “I just wanna eat ya up.”

The comment actually makes Gabriel chuckle lazily as his hand travels up his stomach, taking his shirt with him. Jesse follows it with his gaze and spots a matching chest piece under it. His pupils blown and a growl trembles in his chest before he leans over and kisses Gabriel again. The commander arcs to the pleasure, to the weight of his agent’s body over his own, trapping him in place. Jesse pulls the shirt off Gabriel and kisses down the man’s jaw, neck and spectacular chest. The lingerie pops exquisitely and obscenely. It’s a holy image disguising a sin.

“You are gorgeous, Gabriel,” Jesse praises against Gabriel’s hot skin. “So pretty fer me. So delicious and hot, angel. Mi luna.”

“Jesse,” Gabriel sounds dizzy and low on air.

“Mi cielo, mi angel, mis estrellas. Que delicia,” he continues to kiss and praise, to write words on Gabriel’s body that will fade with sweat as the night continues. He loves the way Gabriel’s body moves and the sounds from his plumb lips. He could just lie there and drink them all up until he’s drunk.

When Jesse has enough taste of Gabriel and the older man’s scent kicks in, he lets himself go. He becomes the man Gabriel saw in the videos. The smirk returns to his face as he undresses over Gabriel and enjoys the commander’s blown pupils exploring his body as he does it. Once there’s no clothing on him, he crawls over Reyes again. “There’s so much I wanna do to ya I don’t even know where to start, mi dulce.”

Gabriel’s jaw tenses, as if he wants to give and idea, but knows better. Jesse can’t keep his eyes off the man’s swollen lips and decides to kiss him again while ideas spiral in his mind. One comes to mind soon enough. He crawls and saddles on Gabriel’s chest as he hold the commander’s arms over his head. His hard, fat cock comes in contact with Gabriel’s lips as he teases him, pushing forward and back when Reyes opens his mouth. “Hungry, aren’t ya? Needy for this. How long have ya wanted to taste me, sugar? Do ya dream of it all the time?” His cock outlines Gabriel’s mouth softly and Gabriel’s eyelids flutter. “I sure can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya. At my mercy, with my cock in your mouth, then your little hole, dripping my come—yeah,” Jesse hisses when Gabriel licks his lips unexpectedly, brushing the tip of his tongue over the swollen head of Jesse’s cock. “Ya are beautiful, Gabe. As perfect as an angel, but dirty as the devil. Can’t wait to ruin this pretty piece, and this lingerie too.” Jesse laughs at his own jokes and gets a small groan from the commander.

Jesse actually enjoys the teasing, even if his gut coils with anticipation to feel Gabriel’s mouth around him. It still terrifies him. This is a moment he has been dreaming of for years and to finally have it coming true, it can either go bad—which he highly doubts it—or go beyond his expectations and blown him away.

When he thinks it’s enough, when Gabriel is pouting to have him, Jesse pushes inside the commander’s mouth and his world turns upside down. Gabriel gets to work quickly, lapping and sucking, mouth hot and velvety around Jesse. It’s better than his wildest dreams, greater than how he thought it would feel from his fantasies. His thighs quicker too son and he needs to hold himself with both hands planted over Gabriel’s head. The commander leaves his own hands laid where Jesse had left him, like he should. Jesse’s hips jerk, wanting more of Gabriel, wanting to feel his limits, wanting to break them. “Yeah,” he tries to speak as firmly as he can. “It’s just as good as I thought it would be.” The cowboy chuckles. “So perfect fer me, mi luna. So beautiful and obedient. Ya do this so damn well. I could stay here all night and tire that sharp jaw of yers.” Jesse rambles on anything his delirious mind can think of as long as it keeps him away from finishing too soon.

His hands scramble over the mattress until he tangles them with Gabriel’s and holds on for dear life, “Ya suckin’ the life at out me, sweetheart.” He laughs weakly and sighs, “Don’t dare to stop, Reyes. Don’t ya dare or I’ll have to wreck that throat of yers.” It’s a threat that makes Gabriel moan around Jesse, sending lightning through his cock and up his spine. “Fuck— I knew this mouth was so much better around my fat cock than givin’ orders. This is where yer meant to be, my sweetheart, on your back, takin’ me in all the way,” he drawls the ‘all’ like he did in the shower video, reminding Gabriel vividly how thirsty that scene got him, how he was about to find Jesse there and take him, but had stopped himself from rewarding the cowboy after a short time.

Jesse feels it’s enough and needs a break or he’ll collapse soon. When he pulls away, Gabriel tries to follow, causing Jesse to push him back with a gentle grip around his neck. The commander whines and his beautiful brown eyes twinkle with desire. Jesse almost gives in and lets him have it, almost.

“Now look at this,” Jesse says as he sits by Gabriel and notices the outline of a trapped cock under the lace. “So pretty and dirty, commander. My mouth is watering.” Jesse lowers and presses his mouth to the fabric, teasing Gabriel and mouthing as he coos, “I bet ya taste just as good as ya look. I can already smell ya. Sweet as candy.” Jesse hums and Gabriel’s hips twitch in reaction. The cowboy plays with the waistline of the underwear, sliding it between the fabric and the skin, causing a shiver where he touches.

Slowly he unveils Gabriel’s swollen cock and his mouth waters; it looks prettier and tastier up close and personal. Gabriel’s true musk comes and Jesse wastes no time on licking a stripe up the length. The cock twitches, finally feeling something human and intimate besides the lace, and Gabriel sighs along as his fingers dig into the mattress. Gabriel is shorter than McCree, but thicker. Jesse opens up his mouth to take Gabriel whole, not wanting to hold back or wait. His eyes roll to the back of his head as Gabriel weights heavy on his tongue. Jesse moans more than necessary, he wants Gabriel to know how good he is, to keep praising him without words. It seems Gabriel feels it all over his bones by the way he arcs and squirms under Jesse. The cowboy’s hands move over the commander, caressing his thighs and hips and wherever they can reach. Jesse traces the patterns on the lingerie until he comes across a perky nipple, so sharp in contrast to the delicate lace. McCree pushes the piece to the side so he can reach the knob and starts pinching and twisting playfully, adding a special touch to the moment between them.

“Jesse, please,” Gabriel pleads with a glossy gaze, “I need you.”

“Oh, ya have me, pumpkin,” Jesse kisses the Crown of Gabriel cock, “Just like I have ya.” Jesse pushes the pantie aside and brushes his fingers over Gabriel’s taint until he comes in contact with the plug. “Well, well, I see it’s still here, but I wonder…” The cowboy trails as he pulls away and his eyes become darker and dangerous. “Did it stay there or did Jack put it back in after using you?”

“It stayed,” Gabriel answers quickly, and Jesse isn’t sure he believes him.

“Let’s check, shall we?” Jesse moves over and grabs Gabriel’s phone from the nightstand, where he quickly spotted it when Gabriel laid on the bed. He unlocks it, using the same password. “Haven’t changed the password, huh? Ya lil tease, wantin’ to be caught n’seen.” Jesse checks the conversation between Gabriel and Jack and in fact sees when Gabriel wrote to him, cancelling their meet up because he was tired. Jack insisted on coming over and fucking Gabriel while he slept—an idea Jesse will save for later—Gabriel himself said it was tempting, but still declined. “What’s this?” Jesse asks, mocking, as he sees Gabriel sent Jack a picture as an apology for cancelling and a promise. Gabriel’s kneeling on the bed with a black lingerie, a piece that still looks beautiful on the man.

Jesse feels his chest swelling with pride when he realizes Gabriel cancelled on Jack for him. Gabriel isn’t tired at all, he’s right underneath Gabriel, gasping and begging to be fucked. Even if it was for one night, Jesse is still happy and it’s enough. He doesn’t care if tomorrow Gabriel will go back to Jack, he tells himself this is enough. When he locks the phone and looks back at Gabriel, dreamy gaze on Jesse and parted, plumb lips asking for more, Jesse is sure he won’t be able to stay away from the commander ever again.

“I want to take ya in so many ways, darlin’. Where do I begin?” Jesse brushes a hand over Gabriel’s body, admiring God’s work—and the SEP and years of training. Gabriel is his for tonight, and he’ll make sure to make it the longest night in their lives.

Jesse still grabs more lube and a condom from where Gabriel has them in the drawer of the nightstand, he whistles to the colorful toy Gabriel must have used to help him open up for the plug, but leaves it there, he doesn’t want anything else giving Gabriel pleasure but his own cock for now. He keeps Gabriel opened with his slicked fingers while he pumps his own cock with lube and thinks how to take the commander first. The many ideas break apart when he sees Gabriel’s decadent, round ass laid out for him, like two perfect hills for him to take over. He wants to pull them apart and squeeze between them, see them jiggle with every thrust and slap them until they’re red.

“Here I go, angel,” Jesse wants Gabriel as he settles on the back Gabriel’s thighs and rubs his ass cheeks. “Ready to take me?”

“Yes,” Gabriel murmurs, holding on to a pillow he pulled closer.

Jesse huffs and teases, “Think ya can handle me?”

“Please, Jesse,” Gabriel says, looking over his shoulder with a burning need in his eyes. “I need you, now.”

“Fuck,” Jesse curses under his breath, “Don’t need to tell me twice.” Jesse parts the delicious cheeks and spits into the gapping pucker before he starts sliding in. The tip of his cock enters and he grins as he decides to pull back and ford in short thrusts. He does it with the thought to tease Gabriel, but it ends up riling himself up, which he did not expect. Is the thought of not being able to push deeper, the idea that he can’t have Gabriel yet for some reason. He uses that to remain at bay and only gets a sneak peak of the hot ring around his crown before pulling away.

The man below him groans in frustration, pushing his hips back. “More,” he growls, like he’s entitled to ask.

Jesse chuckles darkly, letting Gabriel know how silly he sounds. “You’ll get what I gave ya, sunshine. Nothing more, nothing less, and it’ll be enough.” Gabriel groans again and buries his face into the pillow, partly from the words coming out of Jesse and from the little hints of what he’ll receive when the cowboy’s cock pokes his hole.

Finally, Jesse gives in and sinks deeper, watching his cock getting swallowed by Gabriel and trapped in his hot walls. “Oh, yeah… this is beautiful.” Gabriel can feel his face heating up, a natural thing in this situation. He’s exposed to Jesse now, vulnerable and free to use as the cowboy wants. There’s no turning back at this point. “I need to remember this forever.” Jesse grabs Gabriel’s phone and pulls one cheek apart to take a picture of the stretched ring around his cock. But it’s not enough. His hips starts moving and he records it. He records his soft moans and how they go higher the deeper in thrusts into Gabriel. He captures every jiggle Gabriel’s ass makes along with his hand slapping across it.

Jesse pulls out and the camera focuses on his shinny cock and a bead of come that drips out before he goes back in. He stops after a while, needing both hands to hold on to Gabriel’s hips as he picks up the pace, ramming into Gabriel, running after his own pleasure and wanting to pull Gabriel apart piece by piece.

Reyes can’t keep his mouth shut, he becomes more chatty and whimpery with time. More than in the videos with Jack, Jesse recalls. A wolfish grin forms on the cowboy’s lips as he thinks Gabriel is better with him than with Jack. They move on the bed like they’ve been lovers for decades and on the field is no different. They’ve been working side by side since Jesse joined, growing into each other’s style and filling in the missing gaps with what the other needs. It’s no surprise to Jesse it feels like the earth quakes when they clash like this. He’s been searching his whole life for someone of his level, for someone to make him whole. Gabriel is the one and he bites the man’s neck to mark him, to prove they belong to each other.

“Ya feel so good, mi luna,” Jesse pants against Gabriel’s sweaty shoulder. “Yer gorgeous, I can hardly contain myself. But I will break ya before ya break me, I promise. I’m gonna make ya feel so good, ya won’t need anyone else, but me.”

Gabriel bites his lip from saying how, surprisingly, he’s making him feel so much better than Jack has. There was something hidden inside of him that didn’t know he needed Jesse this much. He lets the cowboy use him and fuck him anyway he wants even if he won’t be able to walk. He doesn’t want to leave this behind. He’s even afraid to close his eyes and open them to an empty bed, having this all be a dream.

Jesse starts to slow down until he pulls out, forcefully. Gabriel cries to the loss and feels too empty, but doesn’t have much time to word out any protests as Jesse turns him around and kisses him passionately, drowning every word he was gonna voice. As they kiss and nibble on their lips, Jesse gets comfortable between Gabriel’s legs and pulls his thighs u around him, lining his cock with Gabriel’s entrance. “Here I go again,” he says Gabriel before ramming into him again, and Gabriel gasps in return.

This is when the bruises come. Gabriel holds on to Jesse’s shoulders and arms and bites down on his collarbones and neck hard enough to leave blooming patches. Jesse hisses and smiles to the burning, he was starting to wonder if he was good enough after seeing Jack’s bruised body, he wanted his own bruises as mementos of this night. He makes sure to leave mark of his fingertips under Gabriel’s thighs as he grips on them and continues his feral movements against the commander’s body. He moves like the wild waves of a raging ocean. Like a violent wind during a hurricane. Gabriel holds on like he will be swept away from Jesse as the orgasm builds in his gut. Jesse hits the perfect spot and his eyes widen as his brain tingles. Jesse catches the expression and laughs before he caresses the older man’s cheeks, cooing him with more words.

Gabriel’s starting to believe he belongs to Jesse alone. That he will be lost and missing a piece of him if the cowboy leaves the room. He’s not sure if he likes it yet. It’s terrifying to depend on someone that can walk away. That’s why he kept going to Jack. No matter what happened between them, they were each other’s safety net. They always fell back on their beds like nothing ever happened and their bodies would reconnect, making them feel like new.

He knows Jesse won’t walk away once this is over. He has come to know the cowboy this deeply and knows he gives it his all when he wants something. If he truly wants Gabriel as much as he says, he will remain through the night and piece Gabriel back together to break him once more when it’s dark again.

“I’m close, Jesse,” Gabriel murmurs and Jesse thrusts deep into him, both moan together, the melody of pleasure and passion.

McCree kisses Gabriel, pulling him to move on top as Jesse lies on his back. Gabriel saddles him smoothly, used to this. “Don’t look away from me, baby.” Gabriel whimpers to the name. “I want to see yer beautiful face as ya come.”

Gabriel nods as he lifts himself, desperate to ride Jesse. He holds on to Jesse’s heavy cock and sinks lower and lower, taking him by inch. Jesse’s toes curls when Gabriel sits on his crotch, his tight balls coming in contact with Gabriel’s ass. The commander sways his hips, adjusting to this new angle and his weight pushing down on Jesse instead. Jesse remembers the phone and desperately searches for it again to take a picture before he starts recording. He watches Gabriel looking lazily at the camera; high on the clouds.

“Bounce, honey, I wanna see ya move,” Jesse smiles and Gabriel blushes, but he starts bouncing in seconds. Soft jumps to starts, then lifts up to get off Jesse’s cock completely just to fall back on it. Jesse hopes the sound of skin against skin is caught on camera; it’s the perfect touch to the obscene moment. He stops recording when his hand trembles.

Gabriel rests his head back and closes his eyes, not afraid of Jesse running anymore by the iron grip on his waist. “Ya keep mesmerizin’ me, sugar.” Jesse slaps one cheek as Gabriel continues, encouraged by it more than anything. “Leavin’ breathless. I wanna pin ya against a wall. Break the bed as I bury ya in it. Fuck ya against the window, against that mirror to so ya can see yerself being wrecked by yer agent.”

“Jesse,” Gabriel sighs, his thighs quivering as his orgasm approaches.

“Nah, don’t stop,” Jesse’s grip becomes stronger as he lifts his hips and starts thrusting up into Gabriel. Gabriel’s eyes snap open from the hazy moment, getting him wide awake and aware how real this all is. Jesse is sweating under him. He can feel the cowboy’s galloping heart under the palm of his hand and his own up in his throat from the violent way Jesse fucks him.

“Jesse!” Gabriel cries as he comes. White ribbons burst to the air, across Jesse’s chest as the cowboy stops with a satisfied sigh and smile. He’s glad he didn’t reach out to record it with the phone. He didn’t want to miss a thing or worry it won’t show well on camera.

Gabriel blushes even more when Jesse wipes some of the commander’s come from his cheek and licks it off. “I’m gonna clean ya real nice once I’m done,” Jesse promises. “Now, turn around fer me, darlin’. I need to have the other great view of ya.”

Gabriel still moves even if his bones tremble. He wants Jesse to finish him off, to continue using him until he collapses. He aligns himself, lets Jesse hold and guide his own cock as Gabriel sits back to the familiar member. Jesse’s hands return to his ass, parting them and squeezing them with each bounce the commander makes. The cowboy can’t get enough of his cock being swallowed by the hot rim and the small peaks he gets of his swollen head. If he didn’t have the condom, he would’ve come already from how many times he looks at the obscene picture.

The commander stretches back as he continues to moan and make a show of it all. His hourglass figure drives Jesse crazy and his hands can’t stop traveling over every curve. He grabs the phone again and wipes the camera lens with the bedsheet before he starts recording. He coos Gabriel for him, says more filth and praises, enough for Gabriel to move the right way and bounce faster as well as sitting on Jesse for a longer time so his cock can be deeper in him. He stops the video when he’s close.

“I’m gonna come all over yer back,” Jesse informs him, aware that if Gabriel doesn’t want it, he would say so. The way Gabriel bounces faster makes him believes he wants it badly. To feel his hot seed over his skin.

Jesse pushes the commander off him lightly and grabs the phone again, feeling he won’t have time. He pulls the condom off and only needs to jerk himself a couple of times before he’s coming al over the older man’s back. Gabriel moves slowly, showing off his shoulder blades and muscles as they ripped with white strings over his dark skin. It looks as enticing as Jesse imagined. “On yer stomach,” Jesse commands and Gabriel is gladly to do it, to rest.

While Gabriel lies, Jesse has a nice quick photoshoot of the man’s still gaping hole and decorated back. He continues to call Gabriel sweet names that make him blush and words he wants to have carved in his feverish skin. Jesse turns him around and whistles to the already half hard cock poking out of the lacey pantie, and snaps a few pictures of it as well. He sends himself everything he recorded and took a picture of. He hears his phone ringing to every message and smiles to the idea that it will be like Christmas when he checks it.

Then he puts the phone back on Gabriel’s nightstand without deleting the photos and videos. He’s sure the commander will also appreciate the gifts. “If ya want, I know someone we can bring along to help out this time,” Jesse crawls closer and Gabriel meets him halfway for hungry kiss. “Just this once.” Jesse kisses him again and Gabriel whines. “Porque tú eres mi luna ahora. [Because you’re my moon now.]”

---

Jack’s phone pings when he’s brushing his teeth before bed. He smiles fondly when he sees Gabriel’s name in the notification along with the icon that he sent a photo. But his smile turns into a thin line when he sees the picture and its faced with McCree and Gabriel’s mouth around his cock while Genji Shimada fucks his dear friend and gives the camera the peace sign.

A new message comes up, a video this time and Jack doesn’t hesitate to press play. It’s from Genji’s angle as he fucks Gabriel with little mercy, holding to his hip while touring over Gabriel’s back and ass. Jack can’t help how he licks his lips to the scene of Genji’s cock, swollen under a condom, poking in and out of Gabriel. It’s a view he’s used to, but something new peaks his interest. Along the image, over Gabriel’s muffled moans, Genji speaks, “You shouldn’t have let your pet unoccupied, commander.” He sounds smug even with the cracking tone halfway when he thrust deep into Gabriel. “But you don’t have to be left out of this, Jack. And Gabriel is not the only one willing to be used by you.”

Jack huffs to the invitation, the kid has nerves. He’s dangerous, wild and unhinged. Someone who needs to be tamed by a firm hand and Jack hasn’t gotten a challenge in a while. He locks his phone, he will let them have their fun for now, let them keep Gabriel loose for the morning and Genji feeling like he’s in control before Jack puts him underneath him.

---

The sunlight starts to fade over Jesse’s closed eyelids and they flutter open. The first thing he does is smile when he feels a warm body against his own, then he remembers what happened. How he came and took Gabriel, how they both came together and let their hearts ran as fast as they could alongside each other. He looks to his other side and Genji’s there too, back towards the cowboy as he’s curled. The second round wasn’t bad either. He knew Genji needed some release after all the pictures and once Gabriel agreed he knew it was best to give him the satisfaction of being wanted by more than one person before Jesse really sinks his teeth into him.

“Morning,” Jesse sits up to the new voice and finds Jack at the foot of the bed in half a uniform like Gabriel was when Jesse came to the room the night before. The blonde examines the scene in front of him before he comments, “Seems you had fun.” He walks towards Gabe when the commander stirs and crouches down, placing a hand on his friend’s cheek. Jesse wants to growl at him, pull Gabriel into his arm. Jack already had him for too long; Gabriel wanted him now. “Did they treat you right, Gabe?” Gabriel nods with a lazy smile and Jack huffs, still caressing Gabriel, “Is he better than me?”

Gabriel hesitates, “I don’t wanna start a civil war, Jackie.”

Jack laughs, “Fair enough.” The blonde straightens and walks around the bed, Jesse follows him with his gaze as he leans over Genji and does the same. As if he was being pulled by strings, Genji the hand on his cheek until he sits up and his eyes soften to be so near Jack. Morison smiles down to him, tender, yet Jesse feels a bit of possessive towards Genji too, even if he knows he’ll be in good hands. “I guess it’s time I find someone new to claim.”

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/covid-19-news-live-updates-the-new-york-times-4/

Covid-19 News: Live Updates - The New York Times

California will allow indoor dining in San Diego and San Francisco as early as next week.

California took some of its first steps on Friday toward easing severe coronavirus-related restrictions imposed amid a summer surge in cases.

Gov. Gavin Newsom unveiled what he described as a simpler plan that would allow some counties, including San Diego and San Francisco, to reopen many businesses indoors as early as Monday under limited circumstances, such as gyms and houses of worship, as well as permit indoor dining. Bars will remain closed in most of the state.

“We’ve learned a lot over the last number of months,” Mr. Newsom said.

Most residents will see little change in California, which has tallied more than 695,000 cases and more than 12,000 deaths as the virus has steadily spread, complicating responses to the state’s other disasters, like the ongoing wildfires.

The new plan sorts the state into tiers, and the most restrictive applies to 38 counties, including Los Angeles and Orange, that are home to more than 80 percent of the state’s population. That tier keeps many kinds of businesses closed, unless they can operate outdoors, and forbids indoor dining. Hair salons, barber shops and malls can reopen indoors with modifications.

About a dozen more mostly smaller and more rural counties are also in less restrictive tiers that allow them to reopen bars and other indoor businesses at higher maximum capacities and with fewer restrictions.

The new plan is based on new daily case numbers per 100,000 residents, as well as positivity rates. In recent months, the state had shifted away from its initial reopening plan to a model in which restrictions were tied to a county’s status on a “monitoring list” of places where the virus was spreading rapidly. Critics called the list overly fragmented and confusing.

Now, counties won’t be able to move to a less restrictive tier unless they have met that tier’s criteria for at least two consecutive weeks.

They’ll be moved to a more restrictive tier if their numbers worsen for two weeks in a row.

“We’re going to be more stubborn this time,” Mr. Newsom said.

The state’s earlier moves to reopen businesses had been criticized for being too hasty and driven by the impatience of some businesses and some smaller, largely rural counties, rather than by evidence.

Two senior public relations experts advising the Food and Drug Administration have been fired from their positions after President Trump and the head of the F.D.A. exaggerated the proven benefits of a blood plasma treatment for Covid-19.

On Friday, the F.D.A. commissioner, Dr. Stephen M. Hahn, removed Emily Miller as the agency’s chief spokeswoman. The White House had installed her in the post just 11 days earlier. Ms. Miller had previously worked in communications for the re-election campaign of Senator Ted Cruz and as a journalist for the conservative cable network One America News. Ms. Miller could not be reached for comment.

The New York Times correspondents Sheila Kaplan and Katie Thomas report that Ms. Miller’s termination came one day after the F.D.A.’s parent agency, the Department of Health and Human Services, terminated the contract of another public relations consultant, Wayne L. Pines, who had advised Dr. Hahn to apologize for misleading comments about the benefits of blood plasma for Covid-19.

“I did recommend that he correct the record,” Mr. Pines said, adding that he wasn’t told why his contract was severed. “If a federal official doesn’t say something right, and chooses to clarify and say that the criticism is justified, that’s refreshing,” Mr. Pines said.

The Department of Health and Human Services denied that Mr. Pines’s contract was terminated because of his involvement in the plasma messaging.

It was “100 percent coincidence,” said Brian Harrison, the department’s chief of staff. “H.H.S. has been reviewing and canceling similar contracts, so I had it sent to our lawyers, who recommended termination. This was routine.”

The F.D.A. had been considering allowing the use of convalescent plasma as a treatment for Covid-19 on an emergency basis, but earlier this month, The Times reported that the decision had been delayed after a group of federal health officials, including Dr. Francis S. Collins and Dr. Anthony S. Fauci, intervened and expressed concern that the available evidence on the effectiveness of the treatment was too weak, prompting Mr. Trump to call the F.D.A. a deep state. Mr. Trump and Dr. Hahn made the inflated claim for the treatment’s value on Sunday, just ahead of the Republican National Convention.

Two organizations that represent thousands of local public health departments in the United States sent a letter to senior Trump administration officials on Friday asking that they “pull the revised guidance” on virus testing and restore recommendations that individuals who have been exposed to the virus be tested whether or not they have symptoms.

The letter — addressed to Dr. Robert R. Redfield, director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and Adm. Brett P. Giroir, an assistant secretary of health at the Department of Health and Human Services — was sent by the leaders of the National Association of County and City Health Officials, and the Big Cities Health Coalition. The organizations’ leaders wrote that their members were “incredibly concerned” about the changes.

The C.D.C. quietly modified its coronavirus testing guidelines this week to exclude people who do not have symptoms of Covid-19 — even if they have been recently exposed to the virus.

Experts questioned the revision, pointing to the importance of identifying infections in the small window immediately before the onset of symptoms, when many individuals appear to be most contagious.

After a storm of criticism, Dr. Redfield tried to clarify the agency’s recommendation and said “testing may be considered for all close contacts of confirmed or probable Covid-19 patients.”

The letter sent on Friday said, “As public health professionals, we are troubled about the lack of evidence cited to inform this change. CDC’s own data suggest that perhaps as many as 40 percent of Covid-19 cases are attributable to asymptomatic transmission. Changing testing guidelines to suggest that close contacts to confirmed positives without symptoms do not need to be tested is inconsistent with the science and the data.”

The letter went on to say that while the new guidance allows local or state health officials to make exceptions, it “will make their ability to respond to the pandemic even harder,” allowing skeptical officials or members of the public to blame and question them. “This revision and its resulting impact is adding yet another obstacle for public health practitioners to effectively address the pandemic.”

A public health laboratory in Nevada has reported the first confirmed coronavirus reinfection in the United States, and the first in the world known to have brought on severe symptoms.

The first three confirmed reinfections in the world were reported this week, one in Hong Kong and two in Europe, all mild.

Reinfection does not surprise researchers, given the millions of cases around the world, but it is not yet clear if such cases — particularly severe ones — are anomalies or will prove common.

The patient is a 25-year-old man in Reno who apparently experienced a second bout of infection just 48 days after his first, according to health officials in Nevada.

Experts have said that even low levels of antibodies and T cells in response to infection should last for a few months and provide some protection against the virus, which appears to have been borne out in the other confirmed reinfections.

The patient in Nevada had a sore throat, cough, nausea and diarrhea starting on March 25. He tested positive on April 18, recovered by April 27, and tested negative twice. He began to feel unwell again on May 28, and three days later sought help for a similar set of symptoms.

He was hospitalized on June 5 for shortness of breath and needed oxygen; an X-ray showed the “ground-glass opacities” typical of Covid-19.

Researchers genetically sequenced the viruses from each bout, and found they were too different to be accounted for by an extended first illness. The findings have been submitted for consideration to the Lancet Infectious Diseases journal.

The researchers did not test the man for antibodies after the first illness, but found that he had them after the second.

Some experts said the severe symptoms could mean that the patient had not developed antibodies after the first infection, or that his immune response was overpowered by a massive dose of virus the second time. It is also possible that he suffered antibody-dependent enhancement, in which the immune response may worsen symptoms on a second encounter.

The findings highlight the need for widespread testing and viral sequencing, said Angela Rasmussen, a virologist at Columbia University in New York who was not involved in the work. “You really are going to need to look at a lot of these cases to try to start to narrow down which hypothesis is probably right,” she said.

Education roundup

States and college towns in the U.S. are now cracking down on student partying.

Across the United States, state and local governments are bearing down on student partying as thousands of cases have erupted with the return of students to college campuses.

With cases spiking in Iowa, particularly among young adults, Gov. Kim Reynolds announced Thursday that the state would shut down bars, breweries and nightclubs in six counties, including the two with the state’s largest concentrations of college students. In Story County, where Iowa State University is located, more than 1,000 of the 2,129 total cases have been reported since the start of August. Similarly, Johnson County, home to the University of Iowa, is now averaging more than 100 new cases per day, up from about 25 new cases per day in early August.

On Thursday, Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo of New York outlined criteria that would require campuses to go remote for two weeks. Earlier in the week, campus and city officials in Tuscaloosa, Ala., announced that bars would be shut down for two weeks amid reports that more than 500 University of Alabama students had tested positive since the start of the semester. On Friday, the university reported an additional 481 cases — a daily average of 160 new cases over just the last three days.

And health officials in Butler County, Ohio, announced that they had quarantined all the student athletes who had returned to Miami University, many of whom had attended an off-campus party. The Newark, Del., city council passed an emergency ordinance capping attendance at house parties in an effort to control partying at the University of Delaware.

Here’s what’s happening in schools and universities across the U.S.:

The University of Notre Dame, which pivoted to virtual instruction earlier this month after a spike in infections, announced Friday it will resume face-to-face classes next week amid signs that the surge is receding. Over the past week, the county where the campus is located, St. Joseph, reported about 882 more cases, according to a New York Times database.

Texas Christian University reported more than 470 coronavirus cases in August, which school administrators attributed to parties that occurred last weekend. The university’s vice chancellor for student affairs wrote in a letter to students: “We literally cannot keep up with the pace of the spread we are experiencing this week. So, I ask you again today to live up to our expectations.”

With less than two weeks before the start of school in New Jersey, growing numbers of districts are pulling the plug on in-person instruction, citing teacher shortages, ventilation issues, and late-in-the-game guidance from the state on how to manage virus cases. The state — which had been one of the country’s worst hot spots, but now has a relatively low transmission rate — has left the decision to individual districts.

GLOBAL ROUNDUP

Cuba announces its first virus-related curfew as cases spike.

Cuba announced its first curfew since the start of the pandemic amid a spike in new cases. Starting Monday, freedom of movement in the capital, Havana, will be suspended between 7 p.m. and 5 a.m.

The island, which boasts the highest doctor-to-patient ratio in the world, seemed close to snuffing out Covid-19 when, for two rapturous days in mid-July, the Ministry of Health reported no new domestic cases. But the numbers have since jumped: The island has registered 241 cases in the past seven days, bringing the total to 3,866, according to a New York Times database.

The curfew is part of a package of new measures that restrict movement. Work in nonessential state jobs will be put on hold, inter-provincial tourism canceled, and supermarkets ordered to sell only to those with identification proving they live in the same municipality.

The shopping rule could worsen food shortages brought about by the pandemic and by hardened American sanctions. While essentials guaranteed to all Cubans — like rice, beans, sugar — have been stable throughout the pandemic, queues of hundreds of shoppers waiting under the searing sun are now a regular feature outside supermarkets. With so many empty shelves, Cubans trek from supermarket to supermarket to search out products like chicken and detergent.

Despite the rise in cases, Cuba has a lower infection rate than most countries in the hemisphere. Cubans are currently 57 times less likely to contract the virus than Brazilians, 13 times less likely than Mexicans, and 42 times less likely than people in the United States, according to data from the University of Oxford.

Children who are infected with the virus but show no symptoms may shed the virus for nearly as long as children who are visibly sick, researchers reported on Friday.

The findings, published in JAMA Pediatrics, suggest that the vast majority of infected children appear healthy but still may spread the virus to others. The study is hardly the final word: Research into asymptomatic children has been unfolding rapidly, some studies have been reconsidered, and it still is not clear to scientists how often they may transmit the virus and under what circumstances.

The new study is short on details, and does not indicate whether the virus the children shed is alive and capable of infecting others, or whether older children are more contagious than younger ones.

The researchers in South Korea followed 91 children under age 19 — with a median age of 11 — at 20 hospitals and two isolation facilities between Feb. 18 and March 31. They tested the children’s nose, throat and sputum every three days on average. (Anyone in South Korea who tests positive is sent to a hospital or isolation center.)

Twenty children, or 22 percent, remained symptom-free throughout. In the other children, the symptoms spanned a wide range, from lack of smell or taste to diarrhea, cough, runny nose and fever — “not specific enough for Covid-19 to prompt diagnostic testing or anticipate disease severity,” the researchers wrote. Only two children were sick enough to need oxygen.

Of the children with obvious signs of illness, only six had shown symptoms at the time of diagnosis; 18 developed symptoms later. The remaining 47 had unrecognized symptoms before being diagnosed — which is noteworthy given the tight surveillance in South Korea, the researchers said.

Asymptomatic children continued to test positive for 14 days after diagnosis on average, compared with 19 days in children with symptoms. But the researchers did not try to grow the virus to confirm that the tests were not just picking up remnants of dead virus.

Over all, the findings suggest that screening for symptoms is likely to miss the vast majority of infected children who can silently spread it to others. In their study, 93 percent of the children could have been missed were it not for “intensive contact tracing and aggressive diagnostic testing,” the researchers reported.

The virus complicates rescue and recovery efforts in areas pummeled by Hurricane Laura.

Southwestern Louisiana had experienced its most frightening surge in cases just last month, with the positivity rate of tests reaching 23 percent in mid-July. Weeks of testing and mask-wearing brought the rate down to near 10 percent in late August.

And then Laura showed up, making the immediate priority simply getting everyone to a safe place.

“It was rising water or Covid,” said Dr. Alex Billioux, assistant secretary for the Louisiana Department of Health. “And rising water kills faster.”

Buses taking evacuees out of the storm zone required passengers to wear masks, and were filled in most cases only to half-capacity. Most of the evacuees were then taken to hotel rooms in New Orleans and Baton Rouge rather than the large shelters that usually house people fleeing hurricanes.

All of Louisiana’s state-run community testing sites were shut down on Monday and are expected to reopen next week, and more testing is planned for evacuees staying in hotels.

Dr. Billioux said that when damaged neighborhoods start reopening, there are plans to set up testing sites at stations manned by the National Guard, where in storm recoveries past, returning residents would turn for food or supplies.

The Republican convention presented a distorted account of Trump’s record on the virus.

With no issue threatening Mr. Trump’s re-election like the virus, speaker after speaker at this week’s Republican National Convention painted a narrative of the administration’s virus response that was resplendent with distortions, exaggerations and outright falsehoods.

Addressing the convention on Wednesday night, Vice President Mike Pence proclaimed that “before the first case of the coronavirus spread in the United States, the president took unprecedented action and suspended all travel from China, the second largest economy in the world.”

Mr. Trump did place restrictions on travel from China on Jan. 31, but this porous “ban” ultimately allowed 40,000 people to travel from China to the United States from the end of January to April. It wasn’t until March that similar restrictions were placed on travel from Europe, and by then, a European strain of the virus was already widespread in New York City.

Mr. Trump falsely claimed again that the United States had “among the lowest case fatality rates of any major country anywhere in the world.” (It ranks in the top third around the world.)

He also declared: “We developed a wide array of effective treatments, including a powerful antibody treatment known as convalescent plasma,” which he claimed “will save thousands and thousands of lives.”

In fact, convalescent plasma has been used by doctors for decades, and with virus patients since the early days of the outbreak. Its effectiveness, however, is still in question and has most likely been exaggerated by the administration, and its availability is expected to be limited.

As for a vaccine, it is impossible to predict when one will become available with certainty, given a process that includes securing F.D.A. approval, ramping up manufacturing and setting up a distribution system.

Nevertheless, Mr. Trump said there would be “a vaccine before the end of the year or maybe even sooner.”

But thousands of other cases emerged in other corners of American life, often with little fanfare. Thirty-five cases at the Belleville Boot Company in Arkansas. Twelve at First Baptist Church in Wheeling, W.Va. Ninety-nine at Saputo Cheese in South Gate, Calif.

The clusters illustrate how the virus has crept into much of life, with a randomness that seems the only rule.

Elsewhere in the U.S.:

Four people who attended the Republican National Convention in Charlotte, N.C. — two attendees, and two people who worked on the event — have tested positive for the coronavirus, Mecklenburg County officials announced. Republican officials said they had “diligent safety protocols in place” in Charlotte.

Even after a warning from the U.S. Postal Service that it may not be able to meet deadlines for delivering last-minute mail-in ballots, more than 20 states still have not changed their policies, potentially disenfranchising thousands of voters whose ballots could arrive too late to be counted in the November election amid the pandemic, an expert told Congress on Friday.

South Dakota added more than 320 new cases and North Dakota added more than 300 additional cases, the second-worst day of the pandemic for each state. Both states set records for new cases on Thursday.

Reporting was contributed by Ed Augustin, Luke Broadwater, Alexander Burns, Jill Cowan, Sheri Fink, Jeffrey Gettleman, Maggie Haberman, Rebecca Halleck, Shawn Hubler, Mike Ives, Jennifer Jett, Sheila Kaplan, Corey Kilgannon, Sharon LaFraniere, Ernesto Londoño, Claire Moses, Apoorva Mandavilli, Linda Qiu, Motoko Rich, Campbell Robertson, Anna Schaverien, Christopher F. Schuetze, Mitch Smith, Sheryl Gay Stolberg, Katie Thomas, Tracey Tully, Marina Varenikova, Lauren Wolfe and Sameer Yasir.

[giancarlonicoli]

Submitted by Michael Every of Rabobank

Powell Play

“Central banks carry out a nation's monetary policy and control its money supply, often mandated with maintaining low inflation and steady GDP growth. On a macro basis, central banks influence interest rates and participate in open market operations to control the cost of borrowing and lending throughout an economy.” Investopedia

Really? That’s how it works, is it? At this point anyone who can’t see our real economic/financial market paradigm is either foolish, ignorant, or wilfully blind. The Fed has just admitted wages can’t rise except by making very rich people very much richer for a long, long time; then, finally, they might start to go up - perhaps. Moreover, the Fed has demonstrated yet again that it not only ignores asset bubbles --it will “never hold back support for the economy even if asset prices are too high”-- but that it wants those bubbles. How can this end well?

Look at the uneven distribution of stock holdings. Gallup states that as of 4 June 2020, 55% of the US owns some stock: 66% of those aged 50-64 and 32% of those 18-29; 58% of men and 52% of women; 64% of whites, 42% of blacks, and 28% of Hispanics; 85% of post-graduates and 33% of those with no college education. It is far from genuine equality of ownership by any means. But what Gallup does not say, and Goldman Sachs does, is that as of February this year 50% of the US stock market was owned by the top 1% of society.

Could we please have the intellectual honesty just to admit the system as it exists today functions to give more money to ultra-rich people? This is no longer a ‘free market system’. Water does not find its own level. It is channelled through canals cut by an establishment, and some fields are watered very well and others left arid. This is not ‘capitalism’ as anyone teaches or models it, where money is made from productively investing in making things. It is speculative financial-capitalism, where money is made by watching money being made by central banks, which is then channelled into the stock of firms who often don’t make things. Given the homilies that central banks are now coming out with about inequality, one could even say it is even oligarchy excreting noblesse oblige. Yet perhaps it is even worse: central banks saying “Let them eat stocks.”

For those who roll out the cliché: “Well, the central-bank toolkit only allows X, Y, or Z – what can they do?” consider that these toolkits seem to expand on a weekly basis – but never in a direction that means wages will go up ahead of assets. Never. All the feverish innovation goes into new channels to get house prices up, or stocks, or sovereign or junk bonds (some of which are the same thing).

Yes, Powell did say more needs to be done on the fiscal side. What we did NOT get was a clear message aimed at the public, who would then demand it of their government: “Spend more on infrastructure, and/or national security supply-chain on-shoring, and/or social programs to narrow inequality: we will buy all the bonds needed to pay for it.” You know, “Whatever it takes” – but this time for the many and not the few. It was more of a “Whatever” as the Fed described a bleak future US economic landscape where many millions of jobs may never come back…and the response is still to channel more money to the rich via asset bubbles.

Meanwhile, and far from unrelated, in Seattle six city blocks have been seized by protestors. As the Seattle Times notes “Welcome to the CHAZ, the newly named Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, where most everything was free Tuesday. Free snacks at the No-Cop Co-op. Free gas masks from some guy’s sedan. Free speech at the speaker’s circle, where anyone could say their piece. A free documentary movie — Ava DuVernay’s “13th” — showing after dark. A Free Capitol Hill, according to no shortage of spray paint on building facades.” When the rich get everything free, why shouldn’t everyone else? It’s a good question. Some people aren’t waiting for MMT from on high – they are trying to get it moving themselves.

Except that in a microcosm of this populist backlash itself --and recalling that free markets and capitalism were designed to deal with allocating finite resources and things not being free-- a plaintive tweet went out last night: “ALERTA#2: the homeless people we invited took away all the food at the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone. We need more food to keep the area operational. Please if possible bring vegan meat substitutes, fruits, oats, soy products, etc. – anything to help us eat.” The response to which on Twitter included: “Gotta say I’m impressed, it usually takes Marxists at least 3-4 months to achieve starvation.” The Fed’s free-money-policy-without-any-MMT will take a bit longer.

If you want to believe that the Fed is not aware of its own complicity in all this then one has to assume we are watching a man struggling to eat soup with a fork. It’s embarrassing, messy, stupid, and ridiculous. Except in this case the man gets paid billions of dollars for as long as it takes him not to eat the soup. Try to remember that.

I feel sorry for those who have to try to give a traditional vanilla write-up of what the Fed is doing; it’s hard to do so and maintain self-respect. One day this will all come crashing down in epic ruin and people will have to look at themselves in the mirror, or tell their kids what they did when this was all going on: “I described the hand movements of an idiot being paid a fortune to eat soup with a fork - at a time when many others desperately needed to eat.” A life well lived.

Yet for those who do have to play along with the charade: the Fed is on hold until end-2022 at least; will do USD120bn a month of QE split 80bn-40bn between Treasuries and MBS; and there is as yet no hint of negative rates or yield curve control. Stocks actually edged down slightly in response: buy the rumour, sell the sad fact, perhaps. Bond yields edged lower. And so did USD, which one can certainly sympathize with….until all the other central banks have to go the same route, of course.

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/united-states-of-america/how-an-abuse-victims-nerve-and-a-hidden-iphone-led-to-the-arrest-of-a-sundance-founder/

How an Abuse Victim’s Nerve and a Hidden iPhone Led to the Arrest of a Sundance Founder

Sean Escobar had been waiting for the moment for more than a quarter-century.

Over the course of an hour in September, Mr. Escobar sat at a dining room table with Sterling Van Wagenen, a founder of the Sundance Film Festival and a respected figure in the Mormon community, and asked him about a moment that had bothered Mr. Escobar since he was 13.

Why, he asked, had Mr. Van Wagenen touched his genitals?

Mr. Van Wagenen apologized and said that he had been going through difficulties in his career and his marriage, that he struggles with depression. He sounded sincere and penitent. He pledged, again and again, that he had never done anything like that before or since.

Mr. Escobar thanked him and showed him out. Then he walked over to a potted plant, retrieved the iPhone he had hidden there, and tapped the red button to stop the recording.

It is rare for a sex abuse victim to have the chance to directly confront an abuser, even in a court of law. But Mr. Escobar’s remarkable confrontation did not quiet his nagging questions:

Had the abuse, which was reported at the time to a local church official and the sheriff’s office, been appropriately dealt with? Mr. Van Wagenen admitted to a detective that he had touched the boy inappropriately, according to sheriff’s records, but he was not charged.

And could Mr. Escobar really have been the only victim?

“All my life this has bothered me about Sterling,” Mr. Escobar, 38, said in an interview this month. “It would haunt me.”

So he released his recording to the Truth & Transparency Foundation, an investigative website focused on religion, thinking it would encourage any other victims to come forward. It was published in February, and for the next few weeks, Mr. Escobar agonized over his decision.

“Oh my God, what have I done?” he said he thought to himself. “I’ve ruined this guy’s life.”

This month, Mr. Van Wagenen was charged with two counts of aggravated sexual abuse of a child, though not for anything he had done to Mr. Escobar. Prosecutors in Utah said he molested a girl younger than 10 on two occasions between 2013 and 2015.

A Nightmare Sleepover

Mr. Van Wagenen, 71, who declined to comment, has not entered a plea. He was released on $75,000 bail.

Though he never attained Hollywood prestige — one film he produced, “The Trip to Bountiful,” delivered a best actress Oscar in 1986 — he practically put Utah on the filmmaking map when he, along with others including the actor Robert Redford, began what became the Sundance Film Festival. (Mr. Redford’s wife at the time, Lola Van Wagenen, is a cousin of Mr. Van Wagenen’s.) A spokesman for the Sundance Institute said Mr. Van Wagenen has not had a role at the festival since 1993.

Mr. Escobar, the youngest of four children, lived three doors down from Mr. Van Wagenen in the Salt Lake City suburb of Holladay. He became friends with the two youngest Van Wagenen boys.

Mr. Escobar said he was sleeping over at the Van Wagenens’ house when the abuse happened. He was on a couch in the basement, with one of Mr. Van Wagenen’s sons on a different sofa. Another son slept on the floor.

Image

Sterling Van Wagenen, who apologized to Mr. Escobar in September, was a founder of what became the Sundance Film Festival and was a respected figure in the Mormon church.CreditDustin Finkelstein/Getty Images

In the middle of the night, Mr. Escobar said, he woke up to find Mr. Van Wagenen’s hand down his pants, stroking his genitals. Mr. Escobar stirred, hoping Mr. Van Wagenen would leave. Mr. Van Wagenen pulled his hand away, but a few minutes later, he resumed. The boy stirred again.

When Mr. Van Wagenen touched Mr. Escobar a third time, the boy jumped off the couch, ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Mr. Van Wagenen tried repeatedly to get the boy to come out, but he refused, saying he did not feel well.

Mr. Escobar stayed in that bathroom all night.

“There was this big orange cat that got locked in the bathroom with me,” Mr. Escobar said. “I just pet the cat all night.”

In the morning, he left the bathroom and went straight to the phone. He called his mother and asked her to pick him up right away. She took him to a drive-through for a breakfast sandwich. With his mother behind the wheel and his sister in the front seat, he told them what happened.

“I just remember my mom,” he said, “it just looked like she’d seen a ghost. She just turned white.”

Mr. Van Wagenen told a therapist what he had done, and because the therapist was mandated to report it to the authorities, Mr. Van Wagenen went to the sheriff’s office himself. According to a Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office report, he told a detective that he had touched Mr. Escobar “sexually, inappropriately,” though he added that he had not gone under the boy’s clothes. (Mr. Escobar said he had.)

But the case was dropped after Mr. Escobar’s father told the detective that the family did not want to pursue the complaint and that it was “supportive of Mr. Van Wagenen in working out this problem.”

The Greater Salt Lake Unified Police Department, which has absorbed the sheriff’s office, said sex crimes involving children “are handled very differently” today. A spokeswoman said such a case would now be submitted to the district attorney regardless of the parents’ wishes.

Mr. Escobar’s parents, Randi and Tony Escobar, said this month that they had been trying to protect their son from the stress of a trial, exposure in the news media and teasing at school.

“The only thing we could think about was, ‘We can’t drag our son through all this,’” they wrote in an email. “Today is a very different era, where the victims’ identities are somewhat protected.”

Mr. Escobar said he understood his parents’ decision, and they remain close. But he wishes they had let the sheriff’s office continue the case so Mr. Van Wagenen perhaps could have been stopped.

Instead, his life moved on. After Mr. Escobar’s parents reported what had happened to a local leader in the Mormon Church, where they were members, the church disciplined Mr. Van Wagenen with a two-year “disfellowship,” a partial exclusion from church life that is short of an excommunication.

But in 1993, the same year he went to the police, Mr. Van Wagenen went to work as an adjunct professor of film at Brigham Young University, which is closely affiliated with the church. He would later work as director of content for BYU Broadcasting, and then as an instructor at the University of Utah.

Mr. Van Wagenen also directed movies for the church, according to his Facebook page and other biographical materials. The church produces a variety of official films, used for educational purposes or in sacred ceremonies.

A spokesman for the church, formally known as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, said it had taken “appropriate disciplinary action in this case,” but he did not directly respond to a question about why Mr. Van Wagenen was permitted to have roles in the church after he was disciplined.

The spokesman, Eric Hawkins, said that at the time of the report, the church’s practice was to provide spiritual counseling to individuals, and that it was offered. (Both Mr. Escobar and Mr. Van Wagenen said during the recorded conversation that they recalled no counseling.) Mr. Hawkins added that two years later, the church enacted several new safeguards against child sexual abuse, including a 24-hour help line and rules requiring “annotation of the membership record of any individual who has confessed to or been found guilty of abusing a child.”

‘I Don’t Lie Very Well’

Today, Mr. Escobar lives in Salt Lake City and St. George, in southern Utah, with his wife, Crystal, and their four young children. He and his wife have done well selling nutritional supplements with a company called Isagenix. She has written a book on motherhood, and the couple host a self-help podcast.

The abuse did not derail his life, he said. But its effects have never gone away.

He started sleeping with a hunting knife underneath his pillow, and having dreams that adults were hurting him. He got in fights at school. He became distrustful of adults and church leaders.

As an adult, he said, he is compulsively protective of his children. He will not allow them to be alone with other men. He said that when his children were assigned male teachers, he demanded they be moved to different classes. When they had play dates, he called ahead to make sure a woman would be present at all times. After decades as a “rock-solid” Mormon, he said, he left the church last year.

And he could not shake the questions: What if there were other victims out there? What if the abuse was still going on? So in January of last year, he reached out to Mr. Van Wagenen’s wife on Facebook.

“I only want to make sure that there are strict provisions in place to keep something like that from ever happening again with grandchildren and so forth,” he wrote.

She did not respond.

Eight months later, he texted each of Mr. Van Wagenen’s children. He told them that their father had molested him. It was like ripping out his own heart.

“I’m so sorry,” said Mr. Escobar, wiping tears from his eyes, in a video message he sent to one of Mr. Van Wagenen’s children. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

One of Mr. Van Wagenen’s daughters suggested that Mr. Escobar and her father meet. He could offer assurances that he had never inappropriately touched another child. Maybe, she said, it could bring Mr. Escobar some peace.

For days leading up to the meeting, Mr. Escobar said, he could barely eat, sleep or function.

“I kept telling my wife, ‘I don’t think I can do this,’” he said. “It was like sending me back to my childhood. I was terrified.”

Mr. Escobar did not want Mr. Van Wagenen to know where he lived, so they met at someone else’s home. He said he recorded the conversation in case Mr. Van Wagenen threatened him. He attached a microphone to his iPhone and stashed it in a plant. His wife sat on the stairs just outside the room where the two men spoke.

After Mr. Van Wagenen sat down, Mr. Escobar ran through an excruciating list of questions, which he had written in a red spiral notebook.

Have you ever watched child pornography? He said he had not.

How would you have felt if this happened to your own son? “Awful.”

“How can I be the only one?” Mr. Escobar asked.

“I’ve never considered myself a pedophile,” Mr. Van Wagenen said. “That one instance was so horrifying to me. And I’ve carried the awareness of that — not to the degree that you have, for sure — but I’ve carried the awareness of that.”

“I don’t lie very well,” he added later. “I don’t.”

Afterward, Mr. Escobar said, he thought Mr. Van Wagenen was probably telling the truth. But probably was not good enough.

Through a friend, he connected with Ryan McKnight at the Truth & Transparency Foundation and handed over the recording. In the article that accompanied the recording, he went by a pseudonym, David. He is identifying himself publicly for the first time in this article.

Mr. Escobar said he heard from the parents of the girl Mr. Van Wagenen is accused of abusing that the recording had motivated her to come forward. The girl is someone Mr. Van Wagenen knew.

“This young girl, the other victim, is a hero to me,” Mr. Escobar said. “I helped her, and she helped me.”

He has not heard from Mr. Van Wagenen since he was charged. But after the recording went public in February, Mr. Van Wagenen’s wife, Marilee, sent Mr. Escobar a message on Facebook.

“It is all public now,” she wrote. “We are not angry and understand. I still love you and wish healing for you and all the best for your family.”

[bananagator]

Cat Rohan’s Bizarre Adventures

AU: Rohan is afflicted by a Stand that makes him start acting like a cat.   Characters: Kishibe Rohan, Hirose Koichi

Part 1/--?

Completely platonic.  Inspired in part by this fanart.  Takes place after the events of Part 4.  Feel free to send messages/asks.  A big thanks to @emberhaze for encouraging me.

Kishibe Rohan made his way down the sidewalk in a good mood.  He even hummed a little to himself.  The weather was sunny and warm.  He’d spent his morning sketching at the park and was pleased at how much he’d gotten done.  As he passed by some houses in the neighborhood, he heard a sound.  He glanced sharply to the right.

“Oh? It’s just a cat...” Rohan said to himself and relaxed.  It was stretched out luxuriously on top of the warm stone wall.  Rohan smiled and reached out to pet the black and white cat.  The cat scarcely bothered to open its green eyes.  It lazily watched Rohan’s hand, then glanced up at Rohan’s face.  Just as his fingers were about to graze against its side, the cat’s eyes glowed.  Faster than lightning it struck out with a paw, hissing.

“Ow!!” Rohan jerked his hand back.  He glanced down at the three bright red scratches and then glared at the cat.  “What was that for, you stupid cat?” Rohan demanded.  The cat hissed again.  Rohan shoved his hand into his pocket for his pen, but the cat was already on its feet and leaped over to the other side of the wall before he could do anything more.

“That damn cat... I can’t believe it would dare to scratch the hand of me, Kishibe Rohan-- that arrogant little--” Rohan continued to mutter darkly in this manner as he walked the rest of the way back to his house.  He went through the front door.  He did not notice the same black and white cat from before staring at him from a tree.  Its green eyes glowed ominously.

Rohan shut the front door with his foot, set his bag down by the stairs and went into the kitchen to wash his hands. 

“Well, at least the scratches aren’t deep,” Rohan said.  He applied some thin strips of bandage to his hand and thought nothing more of it.

--

The next day...

The phone rang.

“Hello, this is Kishibe Rohan speaking.  ...  Oh Koichi-kun!! What can I do for you? ... Hm? Sure, I don’t mind.  I was just about to head out for a bit anyway.  Actually I just finished up my morning work, so I’m ahead of schedule  ... Sure, I can bring some pages if you’d like.  Alright I’ll see you.”

--

“Ah!! Rohan-sensei!! Over here!!” Koichi waved his arm.

“Good to see you Koichi-kun,” Rohan said.  He set his bag down next to an empty cafe chair.  “Just you then?”

“I think Josuke and Okuyasu are gambling at the pachinko parlor, but they might come by later.”

“Hmph.  Well, never mind those two.”  Rohan refrained from commenting on his distaste of Josuke gambling.  He raised his hand.  “Excuse me, waiter.  I’d like a cup of tea, please.”

“Huh?” Koichi said.  “Um, Rohan-sensei? What happened to your hand?”

“Oh this?” Rohan said.  “Some stupid cat scratched my hand., that’s all.”

“Huh?! What did you do to make it mad?!”

“Nothing!!” Rohan said heatedly.  “Like I said that cat is the one that scratched me!! All I did was try to pet it!!”

“So that’s how it is.... Geez, you really don’t have luck with animals, do you, Rohan-sensei?” Koichi sighed.

“Hmph.  If I see that cat again, I’m going to teach it a lesson.”

“Take it easy!! It was probably just startled by you.”

Rohan scowled.  “You weren’t there, Koichi-kun.  I swear, it was as if that cat had a grudge against me.”

Koichi laughed.  “Oh come on, Rohan-sensei, I think you’re overreacting.  Why would it have a grudge? Have you met it somewhere before?”

“No!! I’ve never seen it in my life!!”

“There, see? It can’t be a grudge.  You gotta pay attention to a cat’s body language more carefully.”

Something still didn’t sit well with Rohan about that, but he decided to let it go.

“Well, whatever.  Anyway, didn’t you say you wanted to see some of my illustration pages?”

“Oh!! Yes!! Please show them to me!!” Koichi said.  His eyes sparkled with excitement.  Rohan smiled and procured his sketch book.

“These are the ones from yesterday when I was at the park...”

“Oh, wow!! The textures are incredible!! And those animals are so life-like!! You’re amazing, Rohan-sensei!!”

“Of course I am,” Rohan said smugly.  He glanced around and then pulled out a manila envelope from his bag.  “And these are some pages from my manga that I’ve been working on.  Don’t tell anyone, okay?” he whispered.

“I won’t!! I promise!!” Koichi said happily.  He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be able to see Rohan’s manga pages, and his other work, let alone the original copies.

“Here’s your tea, sir.”

Rohan thanked the waiter, who nodded and left.

“It’s about time,” Rohan said.  He brought the cup of tea up to his lips.

“Uwah!! This double page spread is so cool!!” Koichi exclaimed.  “The details!! The depth!! Not to mention the perspective shot and the type of ink you used to really make this pop!! It’s almost blinding!!”

“Heh.  I'm glad you like it,” Rohan said, momentarily lowering his cup of tea.  “You have a good eye for noticing the ink I used is different.  I wanted to test my skills.”

“Amazing!!”

Rohan smirked.  He never got tired of being praised by Koichi.  He took a satisfied slurp of his tea.

Crash!

“Shit!!” Rohan was on his feet as though electrocuted, coughing and spitting.

“R-Rohan-sensei?!!” Koichi gasped.

“K-Koichi!! T-The pages!!” Rohan managed to cry out.  He had, unthinkingly, dropped his cup of tea when it had scalded his tongue.

“Aaagh!!” Koichi snatched the pages up off the table.  Rohan was hunched over the table covering his mouth with his hand and gripping for dear life with the other.  The other patrons of the cafe were staring and whispering.  The spilled tea seemed to blur in Rohan’s vision.

“Rohan-sensei, are y--” Koichi started to say.

“The pages...!! Did the pages get damaged?!”

Koichi froze.  He was still holding them aloft in the air.  He trembled and slowly, ever so slowly, turned his head to look.  Color drained from his face.  He let out a squeak of distress.

“Well?!” Rohan demanded.  “Are they damaged?”

“Uh... w-well...” Koichi swallowed.  “That is...” 

“Show me,” Rohan said quietly.  Koichi swallowed and nervously held forth the manga pages.  Splashes of tea now decorated the corners of the pages.  Rohan’s expression became stone.

“Um, I-I’m sorry Rohan-sensei!!” Koichi burst out.  “It’s all my fault!! If I had only grabbed the pages sooner then--”

“No, Koichi-kun...” he interrupted.  “That... It’s... not your fault.  I was the one who dropped the tea.”

“M-Maybe the panels themselves are still okay to use.”  Koichi started to carefully leaf through them.  “It’s mainly on the borders...”

Rohan bit his lip.  His sharp eyes could tell that splashes of tea had stained on a few of the panels.  It was incredibly hard to notice if you were an average person, but Rohan was not average, and the idea of submitting damaged pages to his editor was unthinkable.  The waiter came over.

“Please allow me to clean this up...” the waiter said.  “Can I offer you another cup, sir?”

Rohan turned upon the unfortunate waiter.  “What do you think you’re playing at serving me this?!” he said loudly.

“M-My apologies--”

Rohan jabbed his finger at the tea spilled all over.  “This tea is way too hot!! Are you trying to melt a hole in my mouth?!”

“I’m very sorry...”

“That’s got to be illegal!! I always come here because the service is decent, but whoever made this tea is an idiot!!”

“Rohan-sensei...” Koichi said timidly.  “Take it easy...”  Rohan ignored him.

“You must be slacking off if you didn’t bother to check the temperature!! It’s got to be well over 500 degrees!!”

“W-We always brew our green teas at a temperature of 175...”

“That’s absurd!! Can you even prove that?! I ought to sue!!”

Koichi’s brow quirked.  He’d had tea while waiting for Rohan, and it hadn’t seemed that hot...  He stared at the tea spill.  He reached out with a finger and touched it experimentally.  It’s not hot at all!! It’s warm...  If it was really as hot as Rohan-sensei says it is, there’s no way it’d cool down this much already...  What’s going on here?

“Hmph!!” Rohan’s tongue lolled out.  “Just bring me some cold water!! You can manage that at least, can’t you?”

The waiter bowed again and hurried off. 

“H-How's your tongue?” Koichi asked.  “Is it serious?”

“Eugh... This is terrible...” Rohan said, salivating a little. 

“Maybe you could ask Josuke to heal it for you?” Koichi suggested.

“As if I need his help...” Rohan muttered through his mouthful of drool.

Koichi hesitated.  If he voiced his doubts, he was afraid that Rohan would only get more upset.  He didn’t want to seem like he thought Rohan was lying.

“Rohan-sensei...” he started to say.  But the waiter was now back with water.

“H-Here’s your water,” the waiter said nervously.  He carefully set it down in front of Rohan and stood by anxiously watching and waiting.  Rohan pierced him with a hawk’s gaze.  The waiter was sweating about as much as the glass of water with its ice cubes.  Rohan’s sensitive tongue poked out and lapped up the water with agonizing deliberation.  His brows were knit tight.  He made a face and glared again at the waiter.

“This water... tastes strange.”

“I-Is it not to your liking?” the poor waiter wheezed.  “I’m very s--”

“It’s stale and metallic!! Are you trying to kill me?! Is that it?”

“N-No, I--”

“Rohan-sensei!!” Koichi said loudly.  “Please just let it go already.  It’s not the waiter’s fault.  Let’s just go somewhere else, okay?”  Rohan turned upon Koichi, who was steadfastly staring him down.  He seemed a little upset.  “Okay?” he said again with more emphasis this time.  Rohan felt his muscles twitch.

“Hmph.  Fine.  The service here is lousy anyway.”  Rohan got up and stalked off brimming with haughtiness.  Koichi carefully put the damaged manga pages back in their envelope, bowed a hasty apology to the waiter, left some money on table, and hurried after Rohan.

--

Rohan was half a block away by the time Koichi caught up.

“Wait!! I said, wait!! Rohan-sensei!!”  Rohan still didn’t turn towards him.  “Geez!! You forgot your bag, you dummy!!” Koichi huffed irritably.  His words finally made Rohan stop.  He looked at Koichi.  Seeing the boy’s annoyance made his own vanish in an instant.

“S-Sorry... Koichi-kun...” Rohan said awkwardly.  “Thank you for bringing my portfolio along.  It was careless of me to forget... I... I was just--”

“This is important to you, Rohan-sensei...” Koichi said.  “So...”  He held it out to Rohan, who accepted it from him.

"Thank you, Koichi-kun,” Rohan said quietly.

“Um... why don’t we go the park?” Koichi offered.

Rohan smiled faintly at Koichi.  “Yeah... Maybe that will calm my nerves a bit...”

--

“Look, a water fountain.”  Koichi pointed.  “Why don’t we get a drink there? Maybe it’ll help your burnt tongue.”

“Sounds good,” Rohan said.  His words were slightly slurred.  He approached the fountain in silent relief.  The water from the park was always nice and cool.  As he pressed the button, a strange feeling came over him.  He blinked and then leaned forward, tilting his head all the way to the side.  His tongue lapped at the water.  Some of it splashed on his nose, and he pulled back.  He blinked in confusion but shook his head and tried again. 

Koichi was only half sure he wanted to laugh.  Rohan kept accidentally splashing himself in the eyes and nose.  “Uh, Rohan-sensei...  half of that is going on your face...”  By this time a line had formed behind them. 

“Hey, quit hogging the water fountain!!” someone called out, and they were met with a chorus of others in agreement.

“A-Alright, let’s just...” Koichi said laughing awkwardly and tugging on Rohan’s arm to lead him away.  Rohan insisted on continuing to lap at the water fountain even as Koichi pulled on him.  It was only to avoid falling over that Rohan shifted his feet to follow Koichi, but he was still leaning over the entire while.  Finally Koichi managed to guide Rohan to a tree with ample shade.

“Phew!” Koichi plopped down.  Rohan set down his bag and dramatically threw himself down upon the grass.

“Aaah!!” he shouted.  He rolled on the grass.  “That waiter makes me mad.”

“Like I said it’s not his fault,” Koichi said.  “Although I do understand why you were so frustrated.”

Rohan rolled back.

“Um, you’re on my feet..” Koichi said.  Rohan seemed not to hear and continued to lie there with his arms stretched all the way up over his head.  Rohan stared up absentmindedly at the dappled leaves.  Koichi sat and watched the people in the distance.  He chanced a peek at Rohan’s face, which, although no longer as heated, still bore the tell-tale signs of unhappiness.  Koichi squirmed a little.

“I’m sorry, Rohan-sensei...” he said.

“Hm? What are you apologizing for now?”

“B-Because!! I let your manga pages get tea on them!! I know how hard you worked on those!!”

“You still going on about that? Like I told you, it’s not your fault.”

“But--!!”

“Ko-i-chi-kun.  I’m not mad.  It’s okay.  I can still submit my pages on time.”

“... Still... what exactly happened back there...” Koichi said.  “Rohan-sensei... don’t take this the wrong way but... I ordered their tea while I was waiting for you and...  It was just fine.”

Rohan glanced at Koichi.  “What are you trying to say?”

“It’s just... strange, that’s all.  There isn’t anyone who uses water that hot for brewing tea.  Maybe...”

“Maybe?” Rohan prompted.

Koichi looked nervous.  “Maybe you just have a cat’s tongue.”

Rohan’s expression went completely blank.  He remained that way for such a long time that Koichi was incredibly uncomfortable.  Then Rohan rolled over onto his side and off of Koichi’s toes. 

“Ridiculous,” Rohan snapped.  “Are you saying I’m a liar?”

“N-No!! No, I’m not saying that!! Please don’t get mad at me.  I’m just trying to come up with other possibilities!!”

For a moment Rohan said nothing, then mumbled into the grass, “... Maybe you’re right.  Sorry.”  He heard Koichi sigh.  As Rohan lay with his face against the grass, he focused on the individual blades of grass and the cool sensation against his skin.  It felt pleasant and the blades were so pristine...  Absentmindedly, he plucked one grass blade and ground it between his teeth.  Doesn’t taste half-bad... he thought.  He plucked another blade of grass with his teeth.

“Grass is nice...” he said.

“Huh? Oh yeah... I guess it is,” Koichi replied, not understanding the true meaning behind Rohan’s words.  From where he was sitting, he couldn’t see that Rohan was eating the grass.

The clouds drifted lazily through the clear sky.  The sun shone cheerfully.  Gradually the tension eased in Rohan’s body.  He found he was content to simply lay on his side and chew on the grass.  His eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.  He was awoken by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Rohan-sensei? Wake up...”

He rolled over and saw Koichi.  “Nnh? Koichi-kun? ... Did... I fall asleep?”

“Yeah you sorta dozed off.  I didn’t want to wake you, but it’s getting late.  We should head home soon.”

“Ah, okay.”  Rohan arched his back as he sat up.

The two of them walked together in silence until reaching Rohan’s house.

“Well, I’ll see you later.  Take it easy okay, Rohan-sensei?”

“Heh.  Don’t worry, I will.  Be careful on your way back home, Koichi-kun.”

Once inside Rohan peeked out the blinds and watched Koichi until he disappeared from sight.  The second he was gone, Rohan spun about at once and made his way upstairs to his work studio.  He flicked on the lights and strode to the desk.  From within his bag, he pulled out the manila envelope of his manuscript, took out the sheaf of paper, and carelessly tossed the envelope over his shoulder.  The ugly stains had spread their blight through nearly every page.  He sat down and held each sheet up to the light with the scrutiny of a forensics expert.  He sat there examining every last one, front and back.  With each page, the stains lessened in size.  Yet, within Rohan something began to grow.

Teeth clenched.  Rohan let out a strangled noise of fury and scattered the pages off his desk.  He was scarcely aware of having stood up but he gazed at the paper which fanned out across his floor.  The tea stains seemed to mock him.  He swore.  His bandaged hand slammed against the wall.  “How the hell could I have let this happen?!”

Rohan exhaled sharply and pulled out a fresh stack of paper.

“Calm down...  I just have to redraw every single page... I can get this done...  That’s right...  I’m still ahead of schedule...  I can do this...  No sweat...”

He sat back down, clipped a sheet of paper to the desk, pulled out his trusted inking pen, and held it to the paper.  Rohan found himself gazing at the blank white paper.  A buzzing sound seemed to fill his brain, and spill gradually into the rest of him.  His pen didn’t move.  He frowned and shook his head a little.  Sweat dripped down his jaw.  He pressed the pen to the page but still did not start to draw.  His muscles were wound up tighter than the springs of a mouse trap.  He pressed harder.  An ink blot slowly formed.  There was a ringing sound now.  And something else.  Rohan shook his head once more.  It was almost impossible to tell if he was simply imagining the noises.  But the whispering rush of nothing was giving him a headache that concentrated itself in his skull just as surely as the ink blot blossomed beneath his pen.

He let out a frustrated cry and sprang to his feet. 

“Heaven’s Door!!”  In the air behind him, his Stand materialized.  It had the appearance of a young boy.  It did not speak.  However, in its large green eyes a mysterious glimmer of intelligence shone.  Rohan held his pen as though it were a dagger.

Swish!! Swish!! Swish!! The pen cut through the air with swathes of ink.  Adrenaline-fueled shouts accompanied each stroke and increased in volume.  Lines and backgrounds began to materialize.  Textures and shades followed.  Sound effects, too.  Rohan stood panting as Heaven’s Door silently hovered over his shoulder.  The pair of them approached the page, which was now full of vivid detail.  Rohan’s eyes swept over it.  He yanked it off the desk clips.  Heaven’s Door turned to look at him for but a moment.  If one had to try and describe it, the expression in its eyes seemed to be that of concern.

Rohan searched the page with fervor.  But the more he looked, the more one thing became glaringly obvious: it was all wrong.  He trembled.  There was no mistaking it: this was not worthy to be seen by anyone.  The paper began to crinkle in his grasp.

“Just what... the hell... is this....” He whispered in angry disbelief.  “This isn’t...  This is crap...!! Why... Why?!”  Rohan did something then that he had not done in a very, very long time: he crushed the page in his hands.  This time, Heaven’s Door seemed visibly alarmed.  However, Rohan waved it aside to dismiss it.  Heaven’s Door disappeared.  Rohan was halfway across the room by the time the wadded up paper hit the floor and rolled amidst the scattered, stained pages of paper.

--

Later that night...

Rohan paced about his house.  Tension coiled deep in his stomach.  He had attempted to lie down in his bed.  Scarcely had he flopped onto the comforters than he was up again.  Restless energy hot-wired itself through his body.  Back and forth he went along the upper landing of his home like a caged tiger. 

What’s more his eardrums throbbed.  It was maddening; Rohan grew convinced that he was not simply imagining it.  He paced faster and faster as though he could outrun the noise in his own mind.  Outside his work room, the thrumming, scratching, ringing, rustling, had only grown more apparent, but sleep was not an option. 

He shook his head repeatedly.  He sprang down the stairs three at a time.  As he approached the kitchen the thrumming grew louder.

“What is that?” he muttered.  “Wait... Could it be an enemy?”  But the answer was far less menacing.  “The refrigerator?” he said in confusion.  “... Was it always this loud?”

He walked out of the kitchen and wondered if he should get a mechanic to take a look at it.  He continued his rounds about the house.  The further he got from the fridge, the easier it was to hear other noises like an incessant scritch-scratching and rustling air.  Try as he might, however, Rohan was unable to find the source of those noises.  At last he hauled himself up the stairs.  He avoided the work studio and went to his bed.  Instead of pulling back the comforters like usual, he crawled under the comforters head first and squirmed around in a circle before huddling down and burying his face in the pillow.  By this time the thin fingers of dawn’s grey light were creeping through the window.  Rohan burrowed deeper and passed out.

[animationnut]

To Gravity Falls, From Piedmont: Chapter 19

Summary: It’s a long way until next summer. Until then, Dipper and Mabel share their daily antics and life problems with their lifelong friends and attentive great-uncles through an endless string of e-mails. Distance makes the heart grow fonder after all, and there’s no place Dipper and Mabel love more than Gravity Falls.

                                                   Chapter List

To: Dipper Pines (GhostHarasserfan); Grunkle Stan (StantheMan); Grunkle Ford (Highsixer)

From: Mabel Pines (ShootingStarRainbowUnicorn)

Subject: New Year Resolutions

Hey!

The New Year is almost upon us, and Dipper and I have planned a bash loaded with sugar and action movies. I've already got my resolutions figured out, so I totally have to know what your New Year's resolutions are going to be.

Much love,

Mabel

As Dipper carted several plastic bowls into the living room his phone beeped, indicating he had received an email. He set the dishes on the coffee table before checking the message. His eyebrows raised and he called, "Mabel, one of your New Year resolutions is to give up sugar!"

"I know!" she answered from the kitchen, over the noise of cupboard doors opening and shutting.

"Yet you just said to Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford that tonight was going to be a complete sugar fest!"

Mabel appeared, carting with her bags of potato chips, packets of gummy candies and a pitcher of Mabel Juice. "A sugar fest which is happening before the new year," she pointed out, starting to pour the snack food into the bowls readily laid out. "Once it hits midnight I'm stopping."

"I want to point out that you've never successfully completed a New Year's resolution."

Straightening at that, Mabel narrowed her eyes at her brother. "I have too! I'm great at keeping my resolutions!"

Dipper immediately raised his hand and started to tick the examples off of his fingers. "Last year you were going to finish making that house cozy. Year before that you vowed to take synchronized swimming lessons. Year before that you claimed you were going to start and finish your own web series. None of these things were accomplished."

"You've got a real nasty memory," said Mabel with the pout.

"Nasty for you, maybe," said Dipper in amusement.

"I thought synchronized swimming would be a lot more free and creative, but they wouldn't let me do my own routine."

"You wanted to include dolphins in your routine. Any sane person would have told you no."

"And that house cozy was just getting too big," she continued. "I was running out of wool and I had other crafts I needed to work on."

"On the bright side Dad has a car warmer."

"And the web series would have worked great if my lead actor would have cooperated with me."

"Ashes doesn't do anything but sleep."

Setting her hands on her hips, Mabel declared, "You're not one to talk. What about that model of the sphinx you were going to make out of building blocks?"

"You knocked it down!"

"It was an accident! It wasn't all of it, anyway. You could have started it over. And what about the research report you were going to submit to American Science Digest?"

Dipper shifted his eyes back and forth. "Uh…I ran into some obstacles…"

"Or what about the time—?"

"Okay, okay." Dipper raised his hands in a surrendering manner. "I'm a hypocrite, no surprises there. Look, it doesn't matter anyway. New Year's resolutions are hardly ever kept, anyway."

"I don't mean to break them," insisted Mabel. "I try but then it all goes kabloom. But it's going to be different this year."

"Mabel." Raising his eyes heavenward for a brief moment, Dipper retrieved the pitcher off of the table and shook it, causing drops of glitter-infused pink juice to splash over the edge. "Of all resolutions, you choose to cut out sugar. I'm telling you right now that you're not going to be able to keep it. You are ninety-five percent sugar."

"It's so hard having a brother who doesn't believe in me," lamented Mabel.

Before Dipper could respond, a dual-ping sounded, alerting them to their great-uncles' response. Mabel was typing out a response before Dipper had even wrangled his phone out of his pocket.

Mabel Pines: Hey! The New Year is almost upon us, and Dipper and I have planned a bash loaded with sugar and action movies. I've already got my resolutions figured out, so I totally have to know what your New Year's Resolutions are going to be.

Grunkle Stan: Yeah. Eat, sleep and be merry.

Grunkle Ford: Which has been the closest thing he's ever come to a New Year's resolution.

Mabel Pines: I don't think anyone is taking me seriously here.

Grunkle Ford: What makes you say that?

Mabel Pines: Dipper's picking on me.

Dipper Pines: I was making observations that you didn't particularly care for.

Grunkle Stan: What did he do this time, sweetie?

Mabel Pines: He doesn't think I can keep a resolution because I haven't succeeded in previous years.

Grunkle Stan: You're not supposed to keep New Year's resolutions.

Dipper Pines: Thank you.

Grunkle Ford: Come now, you two. Attempting to accomplish a resolution is an admirable feat, even if you didn't manage to finish it. What's your goal for next year, Mabel?

Mabel Pines: I'm going to give up sugar!

Grunkle Stan: …

Grunkle Ford: …

Dipper Pines: I really don't think any more needs to be said.

Mabel Pines: I can totally do it!

Grunkle Ford: Dear, I think you're underestimating the amount of food you consume that has sugar in it.

Mabel Pines: Well…maybe not all sugar, then.

Dipper Pines: Backpedaling already.

Grunkle Stan: Ssh.

Mabel Pines: Hey, there's nothing wrong with creating parameters! I'll give up all candy, all soda, all sugary drinks, anything that has a high percentage of sugar.

Dipper Pines: You realize that means no more Mabel Juice.

Grunkle Stan: Not that I don't have faith in you, but it seems like a tall order, pumpkin.

Mabel Pines: I don't see any of you making any resolutions. Not that you'd stick with them anyway.

Grunkle Stan: Whoa there missy.

Dipper Pines: Annnd here we go.

Grunkle Ford: I admit its been many years since I attempted to keep a New Year's resolution, but I think I have enough control to stay with it for more than an hour.

Grunkle Stan: Is that a jab at the time I gave up potato chips?

Grunkle Ford: Yes.

Dipper Pines: Which obviously lasted a pitiful hour.

Grunkle Stan: Hey, I was young and reckless. Now I'm old and reckless and competitive. I'm gonna trounce all you dorks.

Dipper Pines: There's the gauntlet.

Grunkle Ford: All right then. What's your resolution?

Grunkle Stan: To not eat vegetables.

Mabel Pines: Boo!

Grunkle Ford: Leave it to a conman to manipulate his advantage in a challenge he knows he can't win.

Grunkle Stan: I can keep any resolution.

Mabel Pines: How about you promise not to trick people out of money?

Grunkle Ford: Very good, dear. That shouldn't be a problem, right Stanley?

Grunkle Stan: No problem at all. Just as it shouldn't be a problem for you to give up all-night research sessions.

Grunkle Ford: …touché. You're on.

Dipper Pines: Am I the only normal one here?

Grunkle Stan: Don't fool yourself, kiddo.

Mabel Pines:  How about you, Dipper?

Dipper Pines: I'm not taking part in this.

Mabel Pines: You could give up going on those dumb conspiracy theory blogs.

Dipper Pines: Isn't the point to select your own resolutions?

Mabel Pines: What's wrong? Afraid you're going to lose?

Dipper Pines: Right. Consider the gauntlet accepted.

Grunkle Stan: You're all going down.

Grunkle Ford: We shall see.

Morning rays spilled through the kitchen window, creating yellow ripples across the tiled floor. Grabbing a banana for breakfast, Mabel ate it on her way out the door, leash gripped in hand as Waddles scampered ahead of her. She graciously stopped to allow excited children to pet her pig and they eventually reached town.

Mabel stopped by the post office on an errand for her mother and then went to the park. As Waddles sniffed along the grass, she paused by a white snack stand and bought a rainbow slushie. She cheerfully took the first sip, the sweet fruity flavour splashing against her taste buds.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh. No."

Shifting her eyes between the nearest trash can and her slushie, Mabel took another long slurp as she accepted her fate.

"Should have chosen something other than sugar…Dipper is going to be impossible to live with after this one."

…

Feet propped up against the arm of the couch, Dipper listened idly to the documentary playing on the television. He browsed the Internet on his phone, automatically clicking on the notification that alerted him that his favourite blog had just made an update.

"Aliens and Bigfoot; How They're Related," he read aloud. "Ooh."

He was halfway through the essay when he realized exactly what he was doing. Mabel arrived back home then, shuffling into the living room with Waddles. He stared at the slushie in her hand and she knew by the instinctual way he angled the phone away from her what he was reading.

After a beat of guilty silence, they both burst into laughter.

To: Dipper Pines (GhostHarasserfan); Grunkle Stan (StantheMan); Grunkle Ford (Highsixer)

From: Mabel Pines (ShootingStarRainbowUnicorn)

Subject: Well so much for that

Hey,

All right, so making a resolution to give up sugar was probably way too much, especially for me. I sort of forgot but then when I remembered I couldn't throw my slushie away, because that's like a crime. Then I thought about how I would have to avoid slushies for a whole year...so I kinda gave in.

Much love,

Mabel

See all messages in this thread (Expand)

Grunkle Stan: Yeah…I swindled a diner out of a free meal after complaining of a hair in my soup—the hair in question belonging to me. This may or may not have happened three hours into the new year.

Grunkle Ford: I don't have a very good concept of time. When I looked at the clock it was ten, and when I looked again it was five in the morning.

Dipper Pines: Yeah, completely forgot about my resolution. Considering it's only January the third, I think we're all pretty terrible when it comes to making resolutions.

Mabel Pines: It was a lot harder than I thought. I think I'll focus on my new resolution, which is to be a good person and try to make the world a little bit of a better place.

Grunkle Stan: How about we just elect Mabel president of the world?

Grunkle Ford: If only it were that easy.

Dipper Pines: Happy New Year, guys.

Grunkle Stan: Happy New Year, runts.

Grunkle Ford: Happy New Year, kids.

Mabel Pines: And regardless of our resolutions, let's do our best to make it a good one!

[tsukkibito]

The Moon over the Turtle’s Back

Several shafts of firelight pierced the bamboo walls of my heavily decorated room. Alerted by urgent footsteps and restless flickering of torches carried by several men, my eyes flew open while keeping still as I could manage. I may not be allowed to participate in defending our kingdom but I can still listen to the sentries and gather what information I can from their hushed voices.

Then came fear. An unwanted feeling that I am extremely familiar with. Wars amongst tribes was the only constant occurrence as I was growing up that it instilled in me this fear I know too well.

After listening for a while, loud footsteps overwhelmed the violent current from the nearby river. The voice of my father giving my servants stern instructions somehow calms me down. Although I’ve never seen his face, I know his voice too well. Our conversations were always formal and professional, between a Datu and a binukot, strictly done with a partition separating us. That definite rule, a law that only my kin dared to implement, made me the most valuable treasure in the kingdom and among the tribes.

What I look like, only Mother knows. I was immediately hidden from everyone after I was born; even my father and my brothers hadn’t laid eyes on me even once. Other kingdoms give their priests special permissions to correspond with their living scribes but ours do not. Performing my predestined obligation granted my noble family the highest honor and prestige. Even the citizens are willing to fight on my command. It’s a pleasure, knowing the significance of my existence.

“Mother, last night. . .”

Mother lifted her head and her eyes confirmed that what I heard, Father’s urgent voice and the angry clash of metal against metal, was indeed real. The Sultan’s troops took advantage of the storm last night and many more lives were sacrificed to protect the kingdom.

“Kinnara, have you ever dreamt of watching the sea?” she asked, refocusing on her weaving. Her slender fingers expertly tackled the stubborn threads. Loneliness seemed to grip her voice and I understand because we share the same fate. She too was a Binukot but Father granted her the warmth of the sun and the freedom to see the world until sixteen years ago when she had to stay with me and raise me by herself. I wonder if she ever regretted giving birth me.

“Mother, I am contented with this life I know. I do not wish to be anyone I am not and I do not want anything that is not meant for me.”

If she’s testing me, I’m confident that I passed. I wish my answer makes her happy. Happy, contented, loneliness; I knew all these words but really, I’m not too sure I understood what they actually meant. And although I knew what curiosity is supposed to be like, I am not interested. Knowing nothing about the normal world except from my mother’s stories is not a problem a problem in my standpoint. Weaving and doing my duty as a living scribe by memorizing epics and songs certainly would not be a burden to me.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Banog,” I call one of my servants, my eldest brother, who was standing guard outside my room. “Summon the Datu.”

Without a word, Banog leaves and Bukaw took over his post. I watched their shadows move and disappear. Mother silently continued her weaving and maybe, her prayers, because I am praying too. Desperately. We’re in the middle of a crisis after all.

After a while, Banog returned to inform me that Father was currently negotiating with the hostile tribe. There was a hint of worry in his voice but his concerns to me were insignificant.

“Do you know that the sea is salty?” Mother asked me again. Something was definitely troubling her and it's affecting me in a way that is both disturbing and upsetting. I stared at her intently.

“Do you hate me, Mother?” I asked her those things but inside my chest was a tangled ball of white threads. “I do not appreciate you messing with my resolve.”

Hate. These words spilling from my mouth were ideas borrowed from those epic tales that I’d memorized. The realization that I might never had an emotion of my own relieved me.

She shook her head crying but I couldn't sympathize with her. I’ve never cried. I have nothing to cry about. Maybe those tears were the evidence of her hate because that emotion was believed to weigh heavily on the heart. She must have been suffering.

She embraced me and whispered to my ear the most terrifying fate that awaited me. My mind went blank and all I heard was the creaking of the bamboo floor and the murmurs of the nearby river. The boiled bananas I ate for snack almost escaped me.

“I am too late after all,” I whispered but it sounded more like a croak. I was aware of the possibility but I could never believe my father went ahead for the final resort. He severed the thread and sacrificed me.

He sold me. He betrayed me.

I heaved a sigh to rid myself of the unfamiliar dark-colored emotions entangling with the plain white threads that I believed was my heart. Then I smiled, carefully wiping away my mother’s tears with the hem of my skirt.

Fearing for my own is an act of selfishness. I was not raised so I could live for my sake. The Heavens blessed me with this beauty for the benefit of our kingdom. My only option was to save the lives of my people.

“I will submit to the Sultan. It is the right thing to do,” I declared. I shivered at the thought but decided that from now on, I must talk of the Sultan in the most respectable manner. My future depends on him and to adore my future husband is going to become my sole duty.

Mother violently shakes her head with her fingers digging on my shoulders and her eyes so wide with unsung pleas. It’s strange, as if she’s a different person. She was supposed to be the most sophisticated woman in the tribe but I don't see a trace of that right now. Only the eyes of a frightened woman unable to say the things she wanted to say, silenced by her own upbringing.

“You are the treasure of our tribe, Kinnara. I cannot allow that monster to taint and enslave you!”

“He’s going to wipe us out. A farming tribe cannot stand for too long against a tribe that breathes war.”

I am the objective all along, anyway. Father chose to keep the reason hidden but I eventually realized the truth. I am privileged with the abundance of time to think and ponder things over.

The Sultan's warriors killed our people and burned down their houses. Even the domesticated animals were not spared. There was no looting involved, only a clear message left for us to consider. The wars existed because the Sultan wants the most valuable Binukot among the kingdoms. Obtaining me meant their kingdom's illegibility to be granted the greatest political power in all of Kalupaan. The remaining kingdoms will surrender and kneel under one supreme ruler.

It spells the worst possible future for the kingdoms, but who am I to challenge the inevitable? 

“Mother, I am afraid too, but I will cast it aside. I will let you bear these fears for both of us.”

I hoped it was the end of my mother’s protests. I know she’s worried because of what I am but the Sultan recognizes that fact and still wants me. That gives me hope. 

*

Strange noises –

I realize I fell asleep. I found myself inside my largest palanquin and Mother was nowhere near. I called for her and I called Bukaw’s name. Only the cicadas replied.

I’m not naturally curious of what lies beyond the walls the confine me. Every time I am transported, peeking doesn’t even occur to me. People could be executed just by looking at me so I figured I’d also discipline myself by completely accepting my seclusion. It is only fair.

But the strangeness of those sounds prompted me to take a little look.

I gasped.

I see the moon! And it’s better than the one I saw during the harvest ritual. Is it a different one? A bigger, brighter and prettier moon? A mother moon, maybe?

I wish Mother could give me answers.

“Where am I?” I whispered. Normally, I would just sit and wait but my common sense tells me that there is no one around to do my bidding. I gingerly touch the wall of my palanquin and my hand immediately retracted. The sighs and shivers startling me so much that I ended up speechless.

The walls were breathing and shivering. Really shivering, like a living being that is soft and warm to the touch.

“Get out,” says a deep, rusty voice that conjured in my mind images of a no good vagrant, or maybe a drunkard. Right then the walls collapsed and rippled beneath me that I bolt upright, almost touching the earth with my bare feet.

“I can’t!” I shout, repulsed by the thought of losing my status to mere dirt.

“Get out or I’ll kick you, brat!” the voice rumbled and the wood beneath my feet rippled again, more violently this time, and tossed me out off its wooden floor. While I struggled to get up, the palanquin reassembles itself, but not before slamming on my back and knocking me off-balance. It ran off toward the dark forest, laughing madly.

I stared at the darkness for a long time. It dawned on me that my worth just disintegrated along with my status and my whole life has been such a pitiful waste. Just because I stepped on the ground with my own two feet.

And I am all alone. I’m on the ground, barefooted, and for some reason; my palanquin is alive and shamelessly kicked me out. If I’m not dreaming then maybe the gods or the jealous diwatas are playing a trick on me. No wonder none of them answered my prayers.

They were jealous of the beauty that drove kingdoms into years of violent wars, I thought, feeling dark threads wrapped tightly around my throat.

Almost cursing out loud, I paused upon remembering the beautiful moon. I looked up once again, appreciating the fact that no trees obscured my view. The strange sounds came from the direction of the moon, so maybe mortals can hear the moon when it’s that close and big. I took one careful step, and then another, wincing as tiny sharp rocks cut the soles of my soft feet. 

“I can never be who I was,” occupied my mind as I struggled forward. Walking is awfully exhausting, especially since the path was sloping and the rocks were getting sharper. I stopped to tie my hair on my back and then gathered up my flowy garb to avoid tripping on them accidentally.

The moon kept on getting farther away whenever I believed that I’m getting really close. I ran uphill where a single boulder carved it's silhouette right in front of the moon. I might catch it if I go a little bit faster. 

“One can never run fast enough to catch the moon.” It’s a man’s voice. “Especially one as clumsy and slow as you.”

I panicked.

Someone, a person, saw me!

I cocked my head to the direction where the voice came from. I can’t believe I didn’t notice him. I thought he was a boulder from down the hill but now that I'm standing next to him, he’s a man with a huge stone bilao covering the entirety of his hunched back. His view was fixed on the faraway void so he looked kind of sleepy.

He took my breath away, just like how the moon did earlier.

“What are you?” I asked, breathless. I am not ignorant, I know that there are different kinds of people. But I haven’t heard of a person with a large stone stuck on his back. It looked bumpy, with flowering crystal spikes in the middle, but the edges were rounded, smooth and shiny.

“You’re a rude fellow,” the man points out, his voice sounded sleepy too. He didn’t even glance in my direction. Was he afraid of the consequences of looking at a binukot?

“I’m sorry,” I say because I really was. It might be an illness that I’m not aware of. I puffed my cheeks. Can't he see that I'm barefoot? Nothing will happen even if he stares at me because I am no longer pure.

But he was still fussing over the thin bamboo stick he’s holding, pulling it up and dropping the line again.

The cold wind blew and I shivered. The air smelled tangy but not unpleasant, like fish broth. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Fishing,” he answered, pointing at the vast rice field below our hill that expanded far beyond, reflecting the brightest moon I have ever seen.

“Fishing?! In a rice field?”

He laughed, his eyes closed and wrinkled at the sides. I found myself smiling too, because he made it seem so easy.

Beneath us, the strange booming sounded clearer than when I heard it from afar. What I believed to be a rice field was in fact something else,  mirroring the light of the moon like the inside of a clamshell.

“So it’s the first time you’ve seen the sea?”

I nodded but realizing that he isn’t paying attention, I said, “Yes.”

 “No wonder he's dancing more beautifully than usual.”

“It was the sea calling out to me.” I breathe. It was the strange noise, her song, that beckoned me to her.

“Sometimes, the sea wants an audience, especially when the moon dances on her surface. Then, a wish is born.”

I listened to his bizarre stories. My throat itched because of the cold and his sleepy voice made me drowsy but the tales he told me were so fun and mesmerizing. The people in it and the places he described were unlike the images I saw in the epic chants that I memorized.

Strong winds blew right past us that I worried I might topple over and plunge to my death but the man seemed unaffected by the elements and continued talking in his own pace. He would occasionally pull his fishing line and then throw it back downagain.

He’s a peculiar man, although I don’t know the extent of his peculiarity because I didn’t have anybody to compare him with. Unlike my mother, he talks like everything around us is alive and familiar. 

In the end, he didn’t catch any fish. Instead, he easily hauled the largest clam I have ever seen, filled with shiny pearls of assorted sizes that looked like eggs of different birds. He tossed the largest one to me and I catched it with both hands.

“Thank you,” I told him. The pearl was surprisingly warm that I pressed it to my cold cheek. At last, he stood up, leaving the thin bamboo pole on the rough ground. He staggered and seemed surprised by it.

“Oops, it’s gotten heavier,” he says.

"What is?"

"My shell," he answered, slowly turning to show me his back and I waited patiently for him to face me again.

“What happens if it gets too heavy for you to carry?”

He stared at me for the first time and shrugged. His eyes were black and shining, like the surface of the calm sea.

“I will probably turn into a rock. Or maybe I will turn into nothing.”

Something stirred inside my chest, like a tug and the threads started moving and recoiling. It made me queasy.

“Why would you like that?” I asked him. It was late when I noticed the accusatory tone in my voice.

“I don’t like it. But I can’t help caring for people, so I can’t escape my fate. We are the same, bound to our curses.” He walked away, like an upright, lazy turtle. I remember I saw a turtle once.

[ecotone99]

Isolated [MS]

The bright orange sun crept through the closed blinds in sharp slivers. The kitchen was cramped and dark barely showcasing the shadow of a man standing at the countertop mashing the medication into the food, she took them better that way. He loaded the tray with her food and his home-made remedies, lifting the tray up he strode into a grey empty hall and walked his routine path through the dust coating the black and white Lino floor. He then climbed the steps carefully as to make the least noise possible. Stepping towards the closest wooden door he turned the handle and walked to the bed. Placing the tray on the bed side table, he looked at her sweaty lined face and all his worries and anxiety cleared in his head, he whispered as to not wake her “hope you're getting better sweetheart, I love you” and crept out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind him the worry and dread filled him again, his one escape from the nightmare outside was also the source of his dread. He retreated back along the narrow path free of dust and noise back to the kitchen. He saw how little was left in the cabinet and felt for the first time in a while how hungry he was, he was afraid of going outside and had given most of what was left to his sweetheart. He hated leaving her alone in the house by herself and but also was wildly afraid to touch anything in the store without gloves or to go out with his face uncovered. He felt a pang of crippling hunger and eventually found something to ease the pain. Standing up he then traveled up to the room again standing outside for a moment, waiting for the day this would all be over. He entered the room again now seeing the plate was devoid of food and the bright orange bucket he had put out for her, as she couldn’t get out of bed, now again filled with vomit. She always disliked the taste of the pills and threw up half of everything she ate which exhausted her to the point of collapse. Picking up the tray he emptied the bucket. Once the room was reset, he left, once again quietly closing the door behind him only to be overwhelmed by his worries attacking him again with increasing heaviness. He went to the other slight dustier branch of the path in the hall that lead to the living room. He flicked on the old boxy portable tv and went to the news channel more desperate then ever for the news updates his world outside that room revolved around. For fifteen seconds he was more alert then ever reading headlines and listened out for that one piece of news he had been dreading but it never came so he was able to temporarily relax, the cycle starting again. He continued watching for a few more minutes until the hunger outweighed his anxiety and he prepared to travel outside. He put on a mask and long scarf that covered his face and pulled on a pair of his own disposable gloves. With the worry growing ever deeper he looked back in the direction of the room and shut the door.

He was nervous every moment he was away from her but his heart only plummeted further when he saw the police checkpoint ahead. Thick bullets of sweat lined his forehead betraying the anxiety he felt at leaving her back at the house alone and wouldn’t make a compelling case for his innocence. Pulse racing, he slowed down the car as he approached the officer noting that he was likely the first person to be checked as he was traveling on a dirt backroad rarely used by regular travers. Rolling down the window and trying to regain his composure, “what’s the purpose of your travel”, the officer asked “ just going to the shops for messages” he said as normally as possible trying to keep a quiver out of his voice as he avoided eye contact “Alright, go on”, the officer replied with a slight air of suspicion . The man sped on not rolling up his window for a full minute after the encounter.

Finally, inside the comfort of the front door the man breathed a breath of fresh air, now safe in the dark hall of the house. Walking to the kitchen he disrupted the dust that had laid there stagnant for weeks. He put the food back into the cabinets leaving that which he needed for her on the countertop. He looked at the clock and walked to the living room through his path, clear of dust, and into the living room, he sat on the tarp covered couch and stared at his reflection again in the tv. He flicked to tv on again only to have his heart plummet and his anger soar as he saw a picture of himself where his reflection had been coupled with the headline “prime suspect in kidnapping case located”

submitted by /u/David_Landy [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2CNPQjw

[actutrends]

Trump’s impeachment trial clouded by Schumer-McConnell feud

In a letter to his 99 Senate colleagues, Schumer argued the Senate should acquire records from the Department of State, Office of Management and Budget and the White House.

McConnell stays unmoved.

” He does a lot of namecalling, he does a lot of partisanship,” Schumer reacted at a news conference in New York City on Monday afternoon.

When he attended to local media on Monday morning at an event in Louisville, McConnell recommended the grinding halt could continue until January when Congress returns from its holiday recess. And he was a lot more interested in boasting of the windfalls to Kentucky in the year-end costs bills than discussing impeachment.

” Everything that might be said has actually been stated,” McConnell said of the upcoming trial. “We’ll discover when we return in session.”

The Senate is set to return on Jan. 3. Until then, the 2 party leaders and their allies appear content to take part in a messaging battle rather than relent on their entrenched positions.

That dispute might come at a rate: Senators in both celebrations hope McConnell and Schumer can offer the trial even the tiniest veneer of bipartisanship after the partisan impeachment battle in your home, which charged Trump with abuse of power and blockage of Congress.

” McConnell has revealed that he is going to utilize whatever powers that are readily available,” Sen. Chris Murphy (D-Conn.) stated. “I’m not preparing for that he’s going to provide an inch if he believes that witnesses are going to harm his members. I think Chuck really believes that there may be some critical mass of Republicans who do not desire to short-circuit this.”

The Senate can pass movements throughout the trial with 51 votes. Republicans control 53 seats and, with celebration unity, can disregard Schumer’s demands, though it is not a preferred alternative.

“We do not desire to do it that method.

Similarly, Schumer can force votes on movements even if McConnell doesn’t support them, putting senators on record about witnesses and files. Republicans are going into 2020 with a genuine chance at losing the majority, and Democrats believe if GOP incumbents vote versus collecting more information in the trial, it might affect hard races in Maine, Colorado, North Carolina, Arizona and Iowa.

Your home has actually unsuccessfully sought a few of the records and testament that Schumer is looking for. In his Monday letter, he referred to records to comprehend hold-ups in aid to Ukraine, the president and his allies’ demand that the nation announce a probe into Joe Biden, and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s pursuit of a White Home meeting.

” No good reason has been offered as to why the Senate needs to not hear all of the offered proof in this trial.

McConnell has actually argued the Senate ought to follow the pattern of Clinton’s impeachment trial. In 1999, throughout Clinton’s impeachment, the Senate voted 100 -0 to establish the trial’s basic specifications and later voted mostly along celebration lines to subpoena witness depositions.

McConnell and Schumer satisfied privately off the Senate flooring on Thursday and were not able to strike a deal on guidelines to govern the trial. On Monday morning, on “Fox & Friends,” McConnell stated the Senate won’t do the House’s work for it on pursuit of documents and witnesses.

” Your house went ahead without witnesses, and they didn’t pursue the witnesses in court,” McConnell stated. “They just blew right through that and implicated the president of doing something incorrect by simply invoking executive privilege, which every president has done.”

Schumer stated the 2 situations are different since of the documents and testament received by the House during Clinton’s impeachment. Schumer wants the Senate to at the same time develop guidelines for the trial and agree to witnesses and files, something McConnell appears unwilling to think about.

Schumer has likewise argued brand-new e-mails launched to the Center for Public Stability showing OMB communications boosts his case for additional information. The Democratic leader prompted his Senate coworkers to take the vacation recess “to assess whether it is possible for the Senate to carry out a fair trial and reach a simply result without evaluating all of the existing proof and thinking about all of the offered facts.”

McConnell said on Monday, “All I’m asking of Schumer is that we treat Trump the same method we dealt with Clinton.”

Pelosi has she said can’t pick impeachment supervisors and submit the impeachment short articles up until she understands “what sort of trial the Senate will conduct.” Democrats are mad that McConnell confesses he will not be an unbiased juror and is anticipating Trump will be acquitted in the Senate.

Most senators think Pelosi will deliver the impeachment articles in January. There’s no genuine expense to her withholding them now because the Senate was never going to start the trial up until next year, although her position has been analyzed by some Republicans as meddling in the Senate’s service.

” It puts in a level of control over this process that the speaker does not have,” Blunt stated. “I believe it’ll work out.”

The post Trump’s impeachment trial clouded by Schumer-McConnell feud appeared first on Actu Trends.

[thisdaynews]

Trump's impeachment trial clouded by Schumer-McConnell feud

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/trumps-impeachment-trial-clouded-by-schumer-mcconnell-feud/

Trump's impeachment trial clouded by Schumer-McConnell feud

In a letter to his 99 Senate colleagues, Schumer argued the Senate should obtain records from the Department of State, Office of Management and Budget and the White House.

McConnell remains unmoved. On Fox News on Monday, he said Schumer should “quit the charade” that either party leader is an impartial witness and reiterated that any witness decisions would be left until after the trial begins. The two leaders are “at an impasse,” McConnell said.

When he addressed local media a few hours later at an event in Louisville, McConnell suggested the standstill could persist until January when Congress gets back from its holiday recess. And he was much more interested in boasting of the windfalls to Kentucky in the year-end spending bills than discussing impeachment.

“Everything that could be said has been said,” McConnell said of the impending trial. “We’ll find out when we come back in session.”

The Senate is set to return on Jan. 3. Until then, the two party leaders and their allies appear content to engage in a messaging battle rather than relent on their entrenched positions.

That conflict could come at a price: Senators in both parties hope McConnell and Schumer can give the trial even the slightest veneer of bipartisanship after the partisan impeachment fight in the House, which charged Trump with abuse of power and obstruction of Congress.

“McConnell has shown that he is going to use whatever powers that are available,” Sen. Chris Murphy (D-Conn.) said. “I’m not anticipating that he’s going to give an inch if he thinks that witnesses are going to hurt his members. But I think Chuck really believes that there may be some critical mass of Republicans who don’t want to short-circuit this.”

The Senate can pass motions during the trial with 51 votes. Republicans control 53 seats and, with party unity, can ignore Schumer’s requests, though it is not a preferred option.

“Once we’re sworn in, that 51 of us could adopt the rules for [Clinton’s trial] that would still apply,” Sen. Roy Blunt (R-Mo.) said on Monday. “We don’t want to do it that way. Hopefully it won’t happen.”

Likewise, Schumer can force votes on motions even if McConnell doesn’t support them, putting senators on record about witnesses and documents. Republicans are entering 2020 with a real chance at losing the majority, and Democrats believe if GOP incumbents vote against gathering more information in the trial, it could affect tough races in Maine, Colorado, North Carolina, Arizona and Iowa.

The House has unsuccessfully sought some of the records and testimony that Schumer is seeking. In his Monday letter, he referred to records to understand delays in aid to Ukraine, the president and his allies’ request that the country announce a probe into Joe Biden, and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s pursuit of a White House meeting.

“No good reason has been offered as to why the Senate should not hear all of the available evidence in this trial. The majority leader has suggested that the Senate should begin the trial and decide later whether to call witnesses or obtain documents,” Schumer wrote. “The practical effect of that approach, however, would be to foreclose the possibility of obtaining such evidence because it will be too late.”

McConnell has argued the Senate should follow the pattern of Clinton’s impeachment trial. In 1999, during Clinton’s impeachment, the Senate voted 100-0 to establish the trial’s basic parameters and later voted mostly along party lines to subpoena witness depositions.

McConnell and Schumer met privately off the Senate floor on Thursday and were unable to strike a deal on rules to govern the trial. On Monday morning, on “Fox & Friends,” McConnell said the Senate won’t do the House’s work for it on pursuit of documents and witnesses.

“The House went ahead without witnesses, and they didn’t pursue the witnesses in court,” McConnell said. “They just blew right through that and accused the president of doing something improper by simply invoking executive privilege, which every president has done.”

Schumer said the two scenarios are different because of the documents and testimony received by the House during Clinton’s impeachment. Schumer wants the Senate to simultaneously establish rules for the trial and agree to witnesses and documents, something McConnell appears unwilling to consider.

Schumer has also argued new emails released to the Center for Public Integrity showing OMB communications bolsters his case for more information. The Democratic leader urged his Senate colleagues to take the holiday recess “to reflect on whether it is possible for the Senate to conduct a fair trial and reach a just outcome without reviewing all of the existing evidence and considering all of the available facts.”

McConnell said on Monday, “All I’m asking of Schumer is that we treat Trump the same way we treated Clinton.”

Pelosi has she said can’t choose impeachment managers and submit the impeachment articles until she knows “what sort of trial the Senate will conduct.” Democrats are angry that McConnell admits he won’t be an impartial juror and is predicting Trump will be acquitted in the Senate.

Most senators believe Pelosi will deliver the impeachment articles in January. There’s no real cost to her withholding them now since the Senate was never going to start the trial until next year, although her stance has been interpreted by some Republicans as meddling in the Senate’s business.

“It exerts a level of control over this process that the speaker doesn’t have,” Blunt said. “I think it’ll work out.”

Read More